archived

that's a sentence and a half isn't it 🧍‍♂️

but yes, i don't wanna beat around the bush for long, so i'll just say a few things and then archive my stuff

i still remember when i first started this blog. after reading tons of works from extraordinary authors i decided to give myself a shot at sharing my own writing. it's safe to say i was scared, would anyone ever read my stuff anyway? was it even worth it?

every single person who has ever read, liked, reblogged, or even talked to me through this platform really made the difference. i will forever cherish every friendship and experience this side blog has given me.

but,, that has changed. after being diagnosed, going through month after month of ups and downs, i've come to the conclusion i need time. not only to come to terms for once with my content and motivation, but also to find what really inspires me to get out of bed and write.

a lack of engagement and exposure will do that to ya 🤙

i will not come back to this blog - if i ever do find the drive to share my writing it'll be under a different blog. if that ever happens, i sincerely hope to meet some of you again!

“quit staring.”

unsurprisingly, bakugo’s hoarse voice was the one to snap the thread of peace in the atmosphere. although peace was an overstatement, tension seemed more fitting, it was still scoff-worthy.

hugging the pitying covers closer to your bare figure, not once did your gaze abandon his position. “my house, my rules.”

“this isn’t even a fucking house, stinks like prime college hobo in this pathetic one-room egg.”

bakugo always made it his goal to drive you mad; you looked cuter when annoyed, as he once put it into words. nevertheless, the scorn in his tone was hard to miss. “best i could do on short notice, not even half of my stuff is here.”

“i might as well sell the rest on ebay, maybe then something about this could actually be fucking profitable,” his free hand motioned from your side of the bed to his, emphasizing the never-ending arrangement happening.

he always knew how to twist words to get you riled up.

without a single care for the phone in his calloused hand or your crumbling mental stability, you threw one leg over his stupid, tiny waist, quickly stradling bakugo like a magnet would—attracting each other. inevitably, the phone bounced off the mattress and to the ground, and for a split second you worried over the overpriced device. then you remembered it was bakugo’s.

was that really important while the man under you rapidly lost the single drop of chill he had?

“i was using that, shithead.”

“and i was having a good night until you knocked on my door - life’s unfair isn’t it?”

instead of giving in to his anger, bakugo allowed himself to bask in the sight. from bruises to marks his teeth left on every inch of skin they could reach, which was admittedly a lot, a mundane feeling washed over his pride. throbbing blemishes complimented your nude self in the best, worst way. it wasn’t a product of love, it was a derivative of the lack of.

his narrowed eyes drank your body—from curve to stretch mark, to birthmark and scratches—like fine wine.

“quit staring.”

and just like that, all his self-restraint went down the drain; wine pouring down the sink carelessly.

with a rough yank, grabbing onto any limb he could prey on, bakugo pulled you down to shut that damn mouth. he feasted on the snarkiness the words had left on your tongue, stealing and erasing the leverage you thought you had with teeth and growls.

not like you seemed to mind.

had you not broken the unsparing kiss, bakugo would’ve drowned in the odium your taste intoxicated him with—forgetting oxygen for the feeling of superiority.

“get dressed, i have plans tomorrow morning,” your thumb grazed against his bottom lip, eyes half-lidded and drained from watering the rose before you. thorns scarring your soul, ruby-red carving his name in your thoughts, arm in arm with layer upon layer of petals clouding your common sense.

after prying yourself away from his burning grip, bakugo complied with your demand, albeit rather annoyed. “what, you seeing someone tomorrow?” in spite of having his back facing you, his sweats covering him hastily, the undeniable smirk plastered on his face could be felt from a mile away.

you weren’t stupid, picking up on the hidden meaning behind his words was child’s play. bakugo knew getting over him was a bitch and a half, booty calls only adding on to the emotional baggage.

as if to give yourself a pat in the back for comfort, you thanked your dishonest lingo and experience—lying wasn’t hard after years of practice. “so what if i am, kacchan?”

suppressing a giggle, you indulged in his sudden flinch, clearly taking the certified prick off guard. short-lived, yet highlighting your entire night, your glee was cut short as he turned around, twitching eye landing on your face half-hidden against a pillow. “keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, or else i might have to keep you up ‘nother hour or two.”

you rolled your eyes, looking up from the comfort of the now caramel-scented pillow. “gross, leave before i call your mom.”

one middle finger later, bakugo bent down to retrieve his dropped phone, not even bothering to check whether it had survived the fall or not. even if he prided himself in not giving a shit half the time, the curiosity of just who would be replacing him prodded at his train of thought. the question died just to be reborn in his throat once again, never once escaping and meeting the shy moonlight waving through your window.

he underestimated your fed up self though, forgetting just how good you were at reading him. “if you couldn’t bother to tell me about your date last week then you shouldn’t be poking your nose in my business.”

tou-fucking-ché.

you glanced at the window as he left without another word, briefly considering giving your wobbly legs a shot to walk and open it for some fresh air.

withered flowers had an obnoxious smell—sweat, hot breaths, and genuine rancor swaying with the particles of dust revealed by the light of night.

your everything needed a good wash.

maybe you’d meet that gentle, green-haired neighbour of yours again once you took your sheets and clothes down to the laundromat.

black lives matter resources / masterlist / ko-fi / taglist.

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