#this fuckin font was everything back in the day

[crimsonred-hi]

Everything, Everywhere

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Warnings:

Summary: his lover is laying there, laying under 6 feet under the grass. Gone to the world. The love of his life: gone. Yet, he stills comes every week, to smile at her, and tell her that one day he’ll join her, but he promised her to live to the fullest… so he will.

He sits there, in front of the stone. It’s a pretty stone, with flowers painted on it, because his mother tried to make the stone pretty by painting on it.

He smiles at her, cutting the ends off the flowers he bought for her, making sure to cut them at a 45 degree angle so they last longer. It’s a bouquet of spring flowers, because the season is changing and he is going to the U.S. for a couple months, he wants the flowers to look right of the time.

He places the flowers out, making them look nice. He’s always known that the fact he never got over her was considered weird, but how could he: she was perfect and now she’s gone.

“How are ya doing, love?… I hope your well, I’m well. My life is going well… it’s weird, not having you around to fight of the groupies.”

He laughs warmly, smiling with that twinkle in his eyes, taking a memory of her arguing with a groupie because the girl was getting too close to him.

___

“Honey, why were you being like that?”

His lover grumbles from the side of him as they walk home form the pub, her arms crossed and his jacket over her shoulders.

“She was too fuckin close! She was too close. I didn’t like it.”

He sighs, moving closer, arm draped over her shoulders, pressing his lips too her forehead.

“Y/n, I’m not going to leave ya for some lass in the pub…”

She grumbles again, but she becomes a little less tense with his words.

___

“You were a funny gal… you really made me happy…”

The light in his eyes is lots at the need to use past tense when talking about her… she’s gone.

He can’t admit it, he doesn’t want to: why would he want to. He loves her, he can’t stop his love for her, but she’s not coming back. SHE IS NOT COMING BACK. He can’t say it out loud…

“I’m going on tour soon, I’m going to (your home city)… I’m gonna see your parents, celebrate your birthday with them… I’m so thankful that they let you stay in Ireland with me… I’m so thankful…”

He smiles back at the stone, her name cared into it with a curvy font. ‘Loving Daughter, Sister, Friend and Wife’. They weren’t even married, they never got the chance to get married, but her parents surprised him by putting wife on it: he cried when he read it. He wept and wept.

He still weeps.

He fiddles with the flower on her grave, trying to distract himself from the pain.

“Ermmm… I’ve got another album coming out… and I read that book you got me for my birthday, why didn’t you tell me you annotated it? I cried when I read your handwritten…”

He laughs warmly, running his hand through his hair.

“Your handwriting is so messy… and what possessed you to write in that awful purple pen?”

___

“Christ! Why are ya writin’ like that?”

She giggles, poking the pen into his arm, drawing on his arm and hurting him at the same time.

“Oi, I like this pen, it’s a nice colour.”

“It’s also blinding.”

He grumbles standing behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, kissing the back of her head and nuzzling into her hair.

“Come on, ya couldn’t have just written in black or blue?”

That sets her off, now she’s talking his ear off about how much she hates blue pen, his heart just melts as she talks with her hands.

___

He laughs that full belly laugh, the laugh that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and makes his smile wide, gorgeous.

“God! You were so fuckin funny! Good God… you were extraordinary…”

His thoughts break through, usually he would think about his own music when he was at her grave, Work Song is a constant in his mind… but he did that song with Noah Kahan recently, all he can think about is Everything, Everywhere… the title alone makes his breath shoulder, she was everything, she is everywhere.

“We cried, ‘oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh’

Everything, everywhere

I wanna love you ‘till we’re food for the worms to eat

‘Till our fingers decompose

Keep my hand in yours…”

The lyrics are soft on his lips.

He’s sang to her before, dead or alive. He felt like she was listening, he knew she wasn’t. He never believed in ghosts or the afterlife, it’s a warming concept, but is it true? He doubts it is. But he finds warmth in knowing that the plot next to his lover is bought and waiting for him.

It’s sad… he bought it the same day he bought hers.

He knows he’s still young, he knows he could find another, he could find many more… but the sheer idea of having another woman the way he had her makes him sick. It feels like cheating.

“Ya know, I made a song…. I make loads of songs, you know that… I made one about us… well, I’m telling the people it’s about characters in Dante’s Inferno…… it’s about how I would do it again… I would love you again even with the knowledge of what’s to come…”

“It’s a nice thought… well not nice, but ya know what I mean… I love the idea of meeting you again… even if it’s in hell.”

He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Christ… what I would do to have you here or be there with you?”

He sighs, looking at the time on his phone… he’s gotta go. He doesn’t want too.

“I’m sorry, honey… I’ve gotta go… I’m sorry… I’ll visit when I can… I’ll be back I promise.”

His words are too soothe a nonexistent being, the being is gone, yet he still acts like he’s talking to his living lover.

He blows her a kiss, and leaving her grave behind. His heartbreaking yet again at having to leave. Wishing he could lie in the ground with her forever…

Im sorry. Im so, so sorry.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #hozier x reader #hozier imagine #hozier oneshot #the hoziest #hozier my beloved #unreal unearth #angst #hozier angst #im so so so sorry #i’m sorry #Spotify

[idesofrevolution]

Never Enough

I wanted so badly to be like him. I’d stare at him from afar every day I commuted home from work. He was tall, he was stacked, he was dark, he was fuckin perfect. Each time I saw those arms, twice the size of my head, I had to stifle til the little moan I knew would escape my lips. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know anything about him except he must have lived nearby, since he was jogging nearly every day down the main strip. No shirt, beadlets of sweat glistening on that ebony skin, trailing down a set of washboard abs into a soaked pair of black shorts.

He was everything I knew I could never be. Surely a couple roid rages helped him along the way, but there’s something to be said about genetics. He had the genes I wouldn’t ever have. So I would sit there like creepy voyeurist every day and drool over this sweaty lug of a man I’d never met but so heavily admired.

I couldn’t tell you what the catalyst was for my google search that day. Maybe it was the fact I was bored out of my mind at work, or maybe that angst just kept compiling subconsciously until I finally did something about it. Either way, I found myself seeing what could be done about the way I looked, about who I was. A few pages down the line, well past 20 or so, I saw one result which piqued my curiosity.

“MelaSculpt” was the product. The little snippet of description on the search page described a fitness supplement for black men. I didn’t really think as I clicked the page that I would find anything of use to myself. After all, a black man I am not- but male is male right? And health supplements aren’t discriminative to my knowledge. The page for some company named VitaCorp opened quickly, and the page did take me back a bit. A studly mocha skinned man smirked back at me, flexing his vascular biceps while shoving a small orange pill into the foreground.

“MelaSculpt is the newest addition to VitaCorp’s growing list of nutritional supplements, which is aimed at improving the wellness and physique of men of color. Specially balanced for peak performance and quick results, this supplement will help YOU get the body of your dreams.” I scrolled past the ingredients list and disclaimers, much more interested in seeing the before and after photos of previous clients. The results were staggering. One man was easily 300 pounds overweight in his before picture, and after one treatment he was cut, lean, and healthy. Another was the opposite: gangly and paper thin before, ripped and bulked after. I kept swiping the pictures, before realizing the gallery was almost 200 photos. Before I could stop myself I had already purchased the bottle.

The rest of the day went by as normal, the draining, soul sucking grind of a day working had made me forget entirely that I had bought the supplements. So imagine my surprise upon arriving home when I saw a nondescript black package in my mailbox with a bright orange VitaCorp logo on it. It wasn’t possible! I looked, the company was out of Australia, I wasn’t even close. Unless they had a fulfillment center here in town, this couldn’t be it. Though, sure enough, as I ripped the plastic open, the matte black bottle rolled out into the palm of my hand.

I booked it inside, immediately rushing to my bathroom to examine the contents further. The futuristic font glistened the MelaSculpt name, teasing me as I ripped the plastic ring off the cap and twisted it open. The inside was full of cotton, and after pulling out what seemed like an inordinate amount of it, I saw two large orange pills in the bottom of the bottle. For a moment I was beyond pissed. What kind of rip off scheme did I buy into this time? I grabbed the package, shaking it upside down, hoping for a set of written instructions or a receipt. Luckily, a small card labeled “USER GUIDE” toppled onto the cold tile floor. I picked it up and began to read.

“Thank you for your purchase! We sincerely hope your experience with MelaSculpt enhances your life in every way you might hope. To begin your journey, take a test amount of a 1/4 pill to ascertain tolerance. Do not exceed 2 pills per person in totality.

WARNING: MelaSculpt is designed for use in men of color only. Side effects may include…”

I tossed the card aside, eager to get started. The orange pill glistened in my palm, presegmented into four doses. I broke off the first portion and swallowed it, washing it down with water from the tap. I stood a front the mirror, preparing myself to say goodbye to this corporeal prison and hello to a hunky Adonis like the jogger. It didn’t take long.

It had been merely second before I doubled over. I could hear the bubbling and groaning of my stomach, feeling it gurgle and pulsate. Immediately, I was convinced I was poisoned. Some random website I had found on Google supplied me Arsenic or Ricin… and I was dumb enough to take it. The first burp escaped my mouth, and I could feel instant relief. I stumbled into the bedroom, leaning on the dresser before actually looking down at my midriff. Beneath my shirt, which once was ill fitting and awkward, my stomach seemed to strain against the fabric. I ripped the shirt from my torso, buttons flying off it.

Beneath that cheap polyester were six little bumps vaguely protruding from my former gut. Another belch, and my swollen love handles seemed to collapse in on themselves. I was shocked, no, thrilled to see my waistline shift and bulk as two cumgutters started to balloon out. That was all fine and good, until my head began to spin. Yet another belch. I grasped onto the dresser, trying desperately to balance myself. But just as the world began to warp and blur, I thought I saw the slightest pinpricks of dark skin begin to cascade down my fingertips before it all went black.

I woke up on the ground. My head throbbed with a migraine straight from hell, rubbing my pulsating temples. Light streamed through the blinds, it was the next day for certain. As my throbbing eyes finally began to adjust, the world around me became clearer. Immediately, I saw them. Toes. My toes. BLACK toes. I wriggled my big toe, just to make sure they were in fact mine, before looking down at my hands. They were a dark ebony, tattoos sprinkled on my wrists and up my thick forearms. I scrambled to my feet and looked in the mirror.

What met my gaze were two meaty pecs, cobblestone abs, arms the size of a cantaloupe… a snaking bulge creeping further and further down my shorts. I hadn’t even looked at my face, I was too scared to look. No, scared wasn’t the right word, it was the mounting anticipation of just who I now was. I looked up, and my breath was taken away. My hair was a wild jumble of black curly locks radiating out into an afro. My chiseled jawline had a light stubble, the only two places on my entire body where I had hair. Every single inch of this sculpted, godlike body was smooth, chiseled, and powerful.

Taking a breath, the light scent of sweat emanated from my pits and feet. Just one whiff gave me a head rush as if I’d taken a hit of poppers. I panicked in the moment, refusing to believe this was who I now was. I pulled and prodded my face as if I were wearing a mask, but alas, this was my face. This was real. And a devilish smirk crept onto my face.

————

That was seven months ago. Truthfully, I’d adjusted pretty naturally into being Jabari. After a day or two of no showing at work, when the boss called the apartment I just explained I was the new tenant. I have no idea what happened to the guy before me. I was Jabari Jefferson, I’d just moved to town from Baltimore and was looking for a gig in personal training. The landlord just kinda accepted I was the new tenant, as long as the rent was paid she didn’t really care.

I started to get more comfortable going out in my new body, appreciating the winks and stares of those who passed. That kind of admiration changes a guy, you start to kind of believe it. I found my own new style, I found a gym to work at down the street from the house. I hit up the bars and happily took home any sexy adult I could find. They couldn’t get enough of that subtle, salty funk which seemed to linger around me; that testosterone laden musk which, admittedly got me and my 9 inch cock off after nearly every session on the basketball court. I made a name for myself around the neighborhood for being “that guy.” The one everyone wanted to be, the guy I always dreamed I’d become. That however, leads us to todays events.

The sun was beaming down on me, as I contently shot some hoops before I hit up my date at a bar down the street. The energy I felt every single day. It was so strong and powerful. That virility, that libido, that strength… it was addictive. I plopped down onto the bench, prying my size 13 LeBron 19’s from my damp, socked foot. Taking a not so guilty whiff of that sharp, satisfying scent of a damn good game, just as I did after every hoop sesh. I tossed the sneakers into the bag and pulled out my slides, only for something to roll right out of the bag as I did.

I looked down at my wet feet on the pavement to see the black bottle of MelaSculpt had fallen out of my bag. Truthfully, I’d forgotten where I put it months ago: out of sight, out of mind. But as I looked down at it, that little nagging voice in the back of my head began to pick at me. Those feelings I felt that day, that euphoric rush. The power of my flexing muscles, the taste of my sweat, the touch of my skin… it all came back to me at once.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That sensation, that lust for power and strength more than ever before is as enticing as it sounds even now. I opened my eyes, and delicately grabbed the bottle. The pill and 3/4 rattled around the bottom of the black container, teasing me even further. I looked down at my glistening muscles, slick with sweat, and imagined just how much more I wanted. It wasn’t enough to be sexy and strong, I had to be the strongest. I had to be the one.

In that moment of irrevocable weakness, I twisted the cap off and swallowed the remainder of the pill I’d used the first time. I didn’t remember the instructions, I didn’t remember the warnings, I remembered that feeling. It was the only thing in my mind as a triple dose made its way down my throat. Just as the first time, I doubled over on the bench, my stomach rumbling audibly to even passersby. I groaned and let out a cacophonous belch, one that even surprised myself. My chest ballooned out almost comically as a cartoon. Veins bulged prominently out of my thinning skin as my necklace burst from the base of my throat, too fragile for the force of my widening neck.

I scampered and stumbled blindly into the locker room, fortunately empty at the time. I let out another cavernous burp, which echoed throughout the room. My thighs bubbled outward in grotesque disproportion to the rest of my musculature. I crawled on the floor toward a shower stall, making it in before just as the time before the world began to spin. I got one final glimpse of my biceps contort and spasm before it all went dark.

I awoke in that shower stall in agony. Every muscle felt stiff and stone like in the cramped stall. I couldn’t even fit my entire body in the stall, my feet stuck out from beneath the door. The smell, it was strong. I enjoyed that savory, delectable scent of masculine musk before, but this was different. The only word I could describe it with is pungent. Like high quality Gorgonzola, and it was pouring out of every crevice of my body. I pushed the stall door open, which nearly came off from the force of my strength.

Getting to my feet, I crept slowly toward the sink, feeling every contraction of every muscle, thinly veiled behind my hairless skin. I got to the mirror. I had tripled in size. Muscles bulged from every direction, built far past the natural threshold I even knew existed. My dreads had all but fallen off, leaving a buzzed hair which exposed veins protruding from even my own scalp. I could feel my heart pumping every single beat, and the blood flowing across my entire body. The power was incomprehensible, it was incredible. It was… far too much for me. I scrambled back to my bag, tossing my favorite sneakers across the room, never to fit my rank size 17 feet ever again.

The bottle seemed tiny in my massive hand, I strained to see the instructions printed on the card I’d left inside. The only thing I could make out was the final words at the bottom of the paper: “Effects permanent. Use with caution.” My heart skipped a beat, I looked at myself in the mirror, a roid-inflated version of the Jabari I had built, nurtured, valued, loved… this wasn’t me. It felt wrong. I looked down at my phone desperately trying to look up the VitaCorp webpage to no avail. I screamed and punched the wall, my fist going straight through the tile and plaster.

My breathing labored, heavy, and hard, I looked down at the bottle again, chucking it into the bin. I looked at myself in the mirror, accepting there in that moment that Jabari was gone. This walking muscle was who I now was. I now had to concoct an entirely new persona yet again. But the only thing I could think of, was how much I wanted what I had lost.

#male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #jockification #musk #musky #bodybuilder #racial change #racial transformation #basketball #VitaCorp #muscle inflation

[chaibewriting]

A DOLLAR MAKE ‘IM HOLLER! (( pt. one ))

yandere! gang leader! sanemi shinazugawa x chubby! black! fem! reader x yandere! gang leader! bakugou katsuki

-> NOTES: sanemi and bakugou are basically the same person but in different fonts and i don’t think anyone can convince me otherwise???

-> WARNINGS: she/her pronouns for reader, afab reader, violence, misogyny, piggy as a pet name, noncon touching, sanemi is an asshole and a creep, bakugou is a sarcastic dick and a creep.

THE sky is on the edge of darkness, the inky blue hues threatening to spill over into the horizon. This particular neighborhood that you’re starting to call home is a little on the… raunchy side. Infested with gangs and criminals, garbage cans fostering fire meant to keep the homeless warm. The streets weren’t exactly the safest place to be but that didn’t matter, it was all that you could afford at the moment but that may change if you play your cards correctly.

Y’see, in this raunchy place you live in, you were currently working as the store manager for a restaurant that specialized in a few different things, mainly tits and wings, maybe a little ass on the side if you looked from the right angle. Another name for the establishment would be referred to as Hooters, a place where women could work with a little less clothing than most waitresses but a bit more clothing than your average stripper. It was an empowering place to work at as long as the patrons kept their hands to themselves— which was a rarity.

This particular franchised store was welcoming to all walks of women which has been a turning point for you, considering how often Hooters likes to stick to hiring the slimmer women, not that it was a bad thing. However, it was refreshing to see how the Hooters you managed had a variety of women working there, some short, some tall, some average, some skinny, some thin, some fat, some thick, some Black, some Brown, some White, some Asian… No one was left out, all they needed was to show they were a hard-worker and could prove that they wouldn’t fuck around on the clock too much. You were on the chubbier side yourself so the environment only seemed to invite you in more.

You had an every day shift of eight hours, sometimes going over the clock to help open and close up shop but you weren’t complaining nonetheless. It was getting a little closer to closing time but you still had some hours to go before you could leave, everything was going particularly well with little-to-no-incidents.

Unfortunately, though you were currently unaware of this since you had been in the back helping with things, the night was soon going to take a turn for the worse.

“Boss, we’ve got trouble in the front, but- you should be careful. They’re from The Explosivos,” a voice said from behind you, causing you to turn and peek at the voice of who had spoken. One of the hostesses, Pony had approached you, a little nervous about whatever she’d just witnessed.

You stood up straight after setting a box of napkins down onto the storage room floor before approaching her, “Huh? What happened?” The two of you then began to walk back to the eating area as she explained what had happened.

“Chlöe made a mistake and pissed off the customers. All she did was give them the wrong meal order and one of them started yelling at her. I tried to calm the situation down but they told me to get the manager so— yeah.”

You nodded at her words and then glanced around, trying to find who had been causing the ruckus, “What table?”

Before Pony could answer you, a crash was heard along with the sound of something cluttering to the floor, along with a shout. “YOU DUMB BITCH, I ASKED YOU TO GET ME A NEW ORDER. Are you FUCKIN’ stupid?”

You snapped your head towards the loud noise and watched a well-dressed man with scars on his face and silver hair lift his hand, about the strike one of your servers. Moving towards them at the speed of light, you grabbed the man’s hand in mid-air and stopped him from slapping Chlöe across the face. Said girl had shut her eyes and began cowering in fear, preparing for the impact that never came.

The stranger stared you down, his unblinking eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he kept eye contact with you, attempting to psych you out. His expression held anger but then twisted up into a sinister grin before he spoke in a low voice, leaning in so that he was only a mere few inches away from your face, his eyes boring into yours, “What’s this? A little piggy coming to the rescue? I’ll destroy you.”

With a flex of his forearm, he removed his wrist from your grip but kept the closing distance between the both of you, his eyes running their way over your body as you remained silent and willed. His eyes lingered on your chest for a bit longer before he scoffed, no doubt having noticed your name tag. “Ah, so you’re the manager here. I was expecting to talk to someone a little more logical— a man, perhaps.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. This is a business ran by women, made for adults mainly. We don’t usually allow children in here but somehow you managed to get seated,” you replied, pretending to be shocked, “I think we may need to amp up the rules for this establishment.” His smile dropped from his face and he squinted at you, the corner of his lip quirking up in irritation, “Whadyou just sayta me…? Repeat it.” You stared right back at him and then sighed, stepping away from him to place your hands onto Chlöe’s shoulders. She had been standing there behind you, shaking like a leaf. “Take the rest of the night off, and tomorrow if you need to. I’ll handle this, okay?” She stared at you and then looked at the man who was staring daggers into the back of your head, her eyes then flickering to the blond at the table who’d been watching the scene unfold. She then squeaked before nodding and scurrying off, as much as she wanted to stick around so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the two of them on your own, she was scared shitless and wanted to leave as soon as possible.

At this point, you had just realized a few patrons had stopped to watch what was going on which meant you had to clean this up quickly before it dragged on too long. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir,” you paused when a second well-dressed man suddenly shifted around in the booth, scratching the back of his head a few times, before you finished what you were saying “Oh excuse me, I meant sirs.” “For what reason?” The blond spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave you a questioning look.

You made a face at him, almost silently asking him if he was being serious. And when he made no change in expression you cleared your throat and spoke again, “Well, you’re disturbing the other customers. You threatened violence against one of my employees and—“

Stopped in your tracks by a sudden grip on your chin, you yelped in surprise when the bug-eyed man turned your face to his, squeezing your cheeks stopping you in the middle of your sentence. “Y’know who we are, dontcha, piggy?” The unnamed man questioned, lavender orbs glancing over your face as he watched you register the predicament you were in. He then let go of your face, giving you the time to recollect yourself before he was expecting an answer.

When he let go, you rubbed at your face that stung a little from having him grip onto your face in such a way, it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d left some bruises on your skin.

“Am I supposed to know or even care?” You spat, slowly losing your patience with every coming second. “Y’know what? Get the fuck out before I call the police.”

“Call ‘em. They ain’t gonna come to some shitty neighborhood like this. Plus, we own this area,” the blond spoke up, tilting his head ever so slightly, a grin spreading over his face, “It’d be in your best interest to give us a refund if you know what’s good for you, pretty piggy.”

You squinted at the weird compliment, shaking your head at him, “Fine. If it’ll get you the hell out of here.” Turning your head, you called for Pony to get the receipt for the table as well as the money that was owed. She quickly did as you said and scurried over to you like a newborn deer before hurrying away again. It was thanks to a recent uptake in dine-n’-dashers that your franchise has started requiring for payment upfront immediately after orders were made. It seemed like a surefire way to keep the restaurant from being stolen from, but you were starting to question if you should keep the policy going. When you turned back to the two males, the man who’d grabbed your face like he was trying to examine your teeth held out of his hand, awaiting the refund. You hesitantly placed the bills and change into his hand, about to put your hand back at your side when he drops the cash and grabs your hand instead, pulling you towards him flush against his front, his other hand on the small of your back.

“Gimme your number too and I’ll leave, piggy,” he grinned, blinking once as he moved his hand from your back to the curve of your ass, feeling you up, “Promise.~”

This fucking man… who did he think he was?

You’ve had enough of him.

With a few swift movements, and the use of some defense classes you’ve taken, you’ve turned the man around and held one arm behind his back, slamming his face down onto the table to keep him in place.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to touch people without their permission you fucking asshole?” You asked, squeezing his arm.

He said nothing, more shocked by how quickly you had managed to overtake him when he left his guard down. A chuckle and the sound of a few clicks soon rang in your ears and you looked up, seeing that the blond man had started taking pictures of your compromised position, a look of amusement on his face, “Wow, never seen him get tossed around like that before. Consider yourself lucky. Or, perhaps… unlucky.” The male’s use of words caused your brows to furrow in confusion, why was he speaking in riddles?

Since you were a bit too distracted by attempting to decipher the blond’s words, you failed to fold the man down who’d you pinned down to the table, and the tables, literally, turned. He had broken from your hold and stumbled back before standing still yet again, glaring down at you like he was on the very edge of murdering you with his bare hands. The intensity of his gaze caused you to flinch but you quickly sprung back, glaring back at him with your own death glare, waiting for him to try something.

“If ya wanna get froggy with me, then fucking hop already, jackass.” You threatened, your tone remaining calm, though you couldn’t hide the way your knees trembled a tad bit, almost as if they were about to give out beneath you. The staring contest continued for a bit longer, the rest of the restaurant quietly watching in interest at what had been unfolding nearby. Talk about a dinner and a movie.

Neither of you were the first to move, instead, the male that was still seated slid out of the booth, pocketed the refunded cash on the table, and elbowed his comrade as he started heading towards the door. Taking the hint, the silveret who’d been staring you down flared his nostrils before straightening up and moving to exit as well, but not without a final word. “Don’t worry, this won’t be the last time you’ll see me, piggy. Bet your bottom dollar.” And with that, he left, leaving you to clean up their mess while also profusely apologizing to your other customers.

-> AUTHOR NOTES: yooooo, it’s been a while since i’ve posted anything on this account, but that’ll change soon enough. i’m excited about how this is going to progress. this reader in particular isn’t your typical reader and she sure as hell ain’t gonna let some weirdos try and kidnap her without a fight. stay tuned! taglist is always open, feel free to comment, reblog, or dm me to lemme know if ya wanna be added. and if you’re too shy to do that but still wanna keep updated on updates for this multichapter story— follow me or turn on the notifications for this post! thanks!

NEXT

#sanemi shinazugawa #x black reader #katsuki bakugo #yandere #yandere x black reader #yandere x reader #yandere x chubby reader #kny #bnha #mha #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #boku no hero #my hero academia #angst #bakugo x black reader #sanemi x black reader #bnha x black reader #mha x black reader #demon slayer x black reader #kny x black reader #boku no hero acedamia x black reader #my hero academia x black reader #my hero academia x black girl #anime x black reader #black! reader #anime x black!reader #black writer #fem reader #gang au

[msallurea]

Yall are pissin me tf off

Sadly darlings I have to be the tough cookie of 2024 today...so brace yourself but do know if you have any issue with anything I say just know you may be part of the bunch that is proving my point in everything I'm about to say.

I would first like to say that everything I'm stating right now isn't directed towards anyone specifically and I'm only speaking generally but I am not about to sugarcoat when I say this post are about the anons...and unfourtanetly I have to give yall the donkey of the day. (AGAIN this isn't towards anyone specifically I'm speaking generally)

First and foremost anons, QUIT SENDING THE SAME GODDAMN QUESTIONS TO MULTIPLE LOA BLOGS!!!!KNOWING SOMEONE!! ALREADY!! ANSWERED!! YOUR!! FUCKIN!!! QUESTION!!!!!????

At first I really didn't understand what loa bloggers meant when they said that anons can sometimes be pretty annoying and honestly before really taking my loa blog seriously I never knew what they meant til now and honestly this THIS first reason is why I'm so upset with yall anons right now. While it isn't everyone it is very very VERY annoying when anons come on here and ask questions and while asking questions isn't an issue at all, IT DOES become an issue when you decide to take your ass to not just 1 not just 2 hell not even 3 but damn near EVERY! SINGLE! LOA! BLOG! YOU KNOW ASKING THEM THE SAME GODDAMN QUESTION YOU JUST ASKED THE LAST ONE and will still have the NERVE, THE FUCKIN AUDACITY, THE BRAIN CELLS to still sit up here and say "omg I don't know what to do" "I don't know how to manifest" oh and the crowd favorite "I've tried but nothing is working because..." 😑😑😑😑 loa bloggers could tell you the ABC 123 version of how to consciously apply the law and manifest your desires and you will STILL sit up there asking multiple blogs just to see if something will change in what we're saying. Honey let me tell you RIGHT NOW, everything loa blogs have said is literally the EXACT. SAME. THING the ONLY difference is how it's explained and the millions of different fonts it's written in 😑😑 and the worst part about it is that if a loa blogger decides that they don't want to tell you because they already know that YOU ALREADY KNOW THE DAMN ANSWER TO YOUR OWN QUESTION all of a sudden they're mean, they're rude, they aren't helpful, etc. Do yourself a favor AND GO TOUCH SOME GODDAMN GRASS!!

This leads me to my next point:

Loa blog or not WE! ARE! NOT! YOUR! THERAPIST!!!

I know I said I was speaking generally but this is specifically for the anons who come on here and decide to TRAUMA DUMP on loa blogs KNOWING they've already done it before. Now before yall come in my comments attacking me do understand, the problem isn't you venting and wanting someone to listen and hear your cry and you needing a slight shoulder to cry on before you can finally say enough is enough and pick yourself back up again. That isn't the problem. The problem comes in when someone who's an loa blogger who btw, unless it is said by the blogger personally that they are actually licensed for,ARE NOT THERAPIST!!! YOU ARE CONSTANTLY TRAUMA DUMPING ON THIS PERSON AND TO PUT THE CHERRY ON TOP YOURE NOT EVEN TRYING TO TAKE THE ADVICE THAT THIS PERSON HAS GIVEN YOU!! to make it even worse, it isn't just when you don't actually try the advice and listen to the help you've been given but you have the NERVE, THE AUDACITY to not only go to 1 not 2 hell not even 3 BUT MULTIPLE bloggers with this same story. Yall finna hate me for saying this but knowing that I too was once this way I don't give a fuck how yall feel about this because you NEED to hear it: STOP LOOKING FOR SOMEBODY TO FUCKING BABY YOU!! IF YOURE NOT GONNA ACTUALLY TAKE THE ADVICE GIVEN QUIT TRYING TO DRAG OTHERS IN YOUR DAMN SOB STORY!! YES YOU MAY BE A VICTIM TO YOUR HARDSHIPS BUT YOU ARE NOT! A! DAMN! VICTIM! WITH HOW YOU CHOOSE TO HANDLE IT AFTER RECIEVING HELP. STOP FUCKING CHASING ATTENTION!! STOP TRYING TO MAKE OTHERS FEEL SORRY FOR YOU!! AND GO ACTUALLY HELP YOURSELF!!

This leads me in with my final point and honestly I think this one has pissed me off more than anything in the world and actually ties in with what I said in my first point.

While I love and admire all anons because of course there was a point in time where your fav loa blogs you see now living there dream life amd have there success stories and what not were once like you where they too struggled and had there ups and downs with the law of assumption...these many different blogs took time out of there life to commit to helping you guys so just like them, you can live your dream life as well. They have created countless post and advice and tips and even the cutest fun ideas to make consciously applying the law daily a super fun and cute experience all the time no matter the situation....with this being said, if you as a anon are looking to find out how to manifest your dream life or whatever desire, and you fix you FUCKING FINGERS TO TYPE IN VERBATIM "I don't feel like going through all these post" and "omg that's too much work" and "I'm not reading all that" and "I don't feel like going through that masterlist" ....while literally not only the question you're asking has already been answered for you SO THE ANSWER TO YOUR QUESTION IS FUCKING AVAILABLE but I've seen time and time again of loa blogs showing anons where to find the info they are looking for, not only is it for FREE but it is also WRITTEN OUT AS SIMPKE AS POSSIBKE SO YOU CAN UNDERSTAND AND YOU FIX YOUR DAMN FINGERS AND SAY YOU DONT FEEL LIKE GOING THROIGH ALL THAT. Let me just be the tough loving logical one out the bunch and say to anyone who is in fact like this: YOU!! ARE!! FUCKING!! STUPID!! AND YOU DO NOT DESERVE THE HELP YOU ARE RECIEVING FROM THESE BLOGS ...at least not for free and honestly your wasting not only the bloggers time BUT YOURS AS WELL. If you seriously don't wanna take out a couple minutes to really get the gist of the law FOR YOUR DAMN SAKE BECAUSE YOURE THE ONE WHO IS "STRUGGLING TO MANIFEST" FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST LEAVE THE DAMN COMMUNITY. I'm not saying that you being here isn't your right but if you're here just to be here and to just follow a trend and complain to others while at the same time being LAZY ASF not even TRYING to truly better yourself and your life by USING THE KNOWLEDGE GIVEN..seriously you are quite literally worse than a lazy person YOU. ARE. AT. THE. BOTTOM OF BOTTOMS!!!! At least someone who is lazy can work themselves to be a bit productive by tweaking what they know to suit who they are as a person so it works for them...but if you're really about to come on this loa blogs pages ans don't do ahit but mindlessly scroll, criticize, shame them, judge them for THERE MANIFESTATION JOURNEYS, constantly asking questions you ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWERS TO AND WILL STILL HAVE THE AUDACITY TO NOT APPLY IT!! With all due respect fuck you. Like deadass. Because you're not really hurting the bloggers you're hurting yourself and dont sit up there coming and crying in these loa bloggers asks talking about "my life is just so miserable" "nothing is working" "I'm so sick of everything I'm just gonna leave" ..knowing GODDAMN WELL YOU DIDNT EVEN TRY TO APPLY THE LAW EVER SINCE YOU STARTED AND JUST OVERCONSUMED EVERYDAY TIL YOU WERE TIRED AND READY TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN TOMORROW. Like real shit this is NOT FUCKIN FUNNY AT ALL, loa bloggers have a life and are human JUST. LIKE. YOU. We are NOT your parents, your babysitters or your heros. We are simoky people who found the law just like you, applied the information given and actually succeeded just as you could to if you STOP FUCKING PLAYING AROUND.

The most sickening part is that yall expect loa blogs to baby yall and be all soft with yall. Honestly this doesnt even just apply to situations with loa bloggers but also many other blogs specifically self help and beauty blogs and really any blog that gives advice on certain aspects of life you may or may not need help in, want to enhance or are interested in...literally bloggers being nice isn't the problem. The problem is when loa blogs like myself and others help you and you do absolutely NOTHING and eventually when we get to a point of no longer wanting to help you because we already know that you know exactly what you have to do...then you wanna have THE GODDAMN NERVE to disrespect them and calling them all kinds of things all because your little ass ego was hurt and you can't handle the truth. NOBODY IS ABOUT TO DO SHIT FOR YOU THIS IS WHY YOU WANT WHAT YOU WANT AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. SO QUIT BEING SO GODDAMN VICTIMISING AND ACTUALLY GIVE YOURSELF A FUCKING REALITY CHECK!!

Ima be 100, I genuinely could've said WAY more in this but ima just say this for now because it's plenty of yall anons who either needed to heat this or you've witness anons like this and this is also for any loa blogs or just helpful bloggers in general who take time out of there life to come on here and share you knowledge to the world in hopes that it may help others as well as enhance your growth in your own journey. Bloggers I completely understand that with what you do naturally we help but PLEASE for the love of God we are in 2024 ..I dont want to be a mean person but in all honesty, if you're running into anons like this that genuinely fit the description please just block them or something. You as a blogger are a person as well, yes you help others when they are in need of assistance and guidance but because you are a person who needs help sometimes too...please don't forget that YOUR PEACE, YOUR SANITY is just as important that person you're helping amd do not forget. And to the anons that hopefully don't fit into anything I've said above, thank you so much for supporting loa blogs as well as other helpful blogs such as mine and many others. Yall are the reason why we do this despite if the foundation of it is to improve ourselves, knowing that we inspire others is why we continue to do what we do and why spreading our knowledge of things we've learned is all the more valuable and for that, for THOSE anons, on behalf of loa blogs WE FUCKIN LUVS YOUUUUUU💗💗💗🎀🎀🎀

Xoxo, Ms. Allurèa

#msallurea #my blog #i guess i had time today #loa blog

[alethiometry]

Rules: list eight shows for your followers to get to know you better.

Tagged by @aeide!

1. black sails. OBVIOUSLY. it's got everything. drama, intrigue, ocean gays, lying little wet rat twinks, anti-colonialist uprisings, caribbean history, grimy period-appropriate costumes, heartbreak, monologues, toby "saturday chillin don't fuckin @ me i'm chillin" schmitz calling himself daddy. everybody slays absolute cunt. it is THEEEE most perfect show ever created.

2. parks and recreation. rewatching p&r is an interesting experience because it was such a product of obama-era liberal america and the optimism just oozes out of every scene. also we don't like crisp ratt anymore. but it's also so genuinely funny and heartfelt and comforting! this show had a massive impact on my sense of humor, as well as i think framed failure in such a positive light: every character failed drastically at something over the course of the show, but through caring for each other were able to pick themselves back up and never let their shortcomings define them. i first watched it at a point in my life where i really needed that, so it has always stuck with me.

3. leverage. my comfort show to turn to when living in a post-capitalist hellscape that continues to reward billionaires for their moral bankruptcy while shitting on everybody else gets too depressing (so… like every day). is it campy and unrealistic? yes. do i care? no. sometimes you need escapism via direct action, heist hijinks, and extreme displays of bisexuality. also aldis hodge is one of the most beautiful human beings on planet earth.

4. supernatural. yeah yeah it's the hehe destiel meme show. but it was also tons of fun to watch every week, the worldbuilding started out fantastic (and then got progressively more and more insane), i think it's really the epitome of "really cool ideas with mostly lackluster execution". the bloody mary episode remains one of my favorite episodes of tv ever, and the fandom drama just keeps giving! i also met some of my dearest friends through the fandom, so maybe the real destiel love memes were the friends we made along the way.

5. twin peaks. the only show that made me so insane i went and got a tattoo of it. impeccable vibes, the experience of watching s3 and then memeing about it on reddit with everyone else who were all equally confused is an experience that will never be replicated.

6. love island uk. listen. fucking listen. i don't want this show to be listed here any more than any of you do, i'm sure. absolute bottom of the barrel brain rot that consumes my life and brings my workday to a grinding halt (thank you timezones) for the 2 months that each season is running. i absolutely have nothing good to say about love island uk other than it's sometimes really funny, usually unintentionally. but iain stirling's voice and those stupid neon pillows/beanbags and atrocious cursive font and catchphrases have wormed their way into my brain and nothing short of a complete lobotomy can remove it.

7. how to get away with murder. this wouldn't even be on here if saff and i didn't go on an insane binge of all six seasons last fall. but since we did… here we are. michaela pratt is an icon and has never done anything wrong ever in her life and i will die on this hill.

8. cunk on earth. this is probably recency bias speaking but oh my god i adore this show. it is exactly my brand of humor and i have so much respect for all the experts and miss diane morgan herself for making it through those interviews without breaking, because i would be fighting for my fucking life. this is the show that i will henceforth be recommending like a madwoman to all my friends.

honorable mentions: american vandal, derry girls, naruto, south park, dexter, elementary, orphan black.

i'm tagging: @winedark @seance @assassiyun @thatsouthernanthem @potsticker1234 @ciaramedba @doomcountry @thychesters <3

#tag games #cool story charlotte

[sad-boy-mono]

Y'all it's been hours since the ending to genloss and it's still in my brain, so please enjoy the notes I took during the finale (copy and pasted from a Google doc). Before the notes I just wanna say how fuckin amazing the finale was and Ranboo's acting at the end gave me CHILLS. Super proud of everyone involved :]. Anyways, here are the notes I took. Just little things that were interesting/important/I wanted to note.

Ooo timer is different. More sinister, music isn't the chippy uptune elevator shit it was for g1 n g2. Numbers are red, font is different. No showfall logo

Cool opening. Drone footage of the mall. 

People in masks and suits. Same mask that "calmed" sneeg 

Almost thought he was gonna face reveal.

He's talking to the camera. Someone's on the screen. Hedge? Hetch? Hedge. Sure. Taking control.

Only way Ranboo can talk to Hedge is if they keep the mask on. Hedge is… good? For now?

Masked people seem not very observant.

Everyone did die. 

All the locations of the mall aren't what they used to be. Are they all showrooms now? Have more people have been put through what Ranboo went through?

Ranboo can't leave yet. Everyone is actually still alive? (I think Hedge is playin) 

They were reprogrammed for the next episode? Ranboo has seen them come back before.

ENARD FROM FNAF??? (Security thingy)

Masked people are brainwashed. Doing busy work until the next show.

The company sees something special in Ranboo. They set up missing posters in case he escaped. Not sure how long, but he's been here a long time.

4 codes, security upped, we choose which one. Ranboo chose instead. They chose wrong.

Enard escaped. There was blood.

Streamers are set up in the mall, they don't see Ranboo. Dream stream scenario. Million watchers, sub goal ect. Showfall is keeping them in a fantasy scenario?

CHARLIE!!!! 

Headphones keep them from seeing him(?) 

The puzzler died RIP

Charlie is waking up. He doesn't understand.

Alarm is going off. 

Suba

Found a mall map. One of the masked people died. Killed by Enard. All the masked people woke up.

Charlie has an ax, Ranboo has a knife. Hell yeah.

Nevermind Charlie took the frying pan(?)

Bucket of blood labeled slime. 

Long hallway, more masked people. Good shot. Back at Charlie's stream set up.

Masked people can't go up or down floors?

Charlie remembers, but is confused about what happened. Found the day 2 set.

Actually I think it's Hetch. Hetch is alive, but not for long. Ranboo and Charlie have to finish his job.

Ranboo and Charlie don't remember who they are before the show.

Aspect ratio changed I think. Ranboo is blinded by rage? The task? Is he still under control? Loud beeping noise drowning out Charlie.

Masked people full of wires. (Ranboo stabbed)

Found the cabin set.

Charlie attacked by Enard. Think he dies again :[

They shut down the show? Masked people shut down. 

HETCH IS ALIVE AND EVIL? Kinda knew it tbh.

MASK LIGHT TURNED BACK ON. RANBOO WAS AN EXPERIMENT. 

Ranboo's in a trap, mask is on but cracked. Minute face reveal slay.

Crucifix (religious trauma slay)

Holy shit Ranboo's acting is really good.

Live on in the cast until you can't entertain or die now. 

He saw everything that he did, even under control. 

We chose for him to die. Box closed with spikes.

The show ended, the tape ejected. Put on a shelf and was the only one labeled.

#mono stop talking #ranboo #genloss #generation loss #generation loss 3 #genloss 3 #generation loss day 3 #generation loss finale #ranboolive #the social experiments #generation loss spoilers #generation loss: the social experiments #genloss 3 spoilers #gen loss

[seroqueldreamer]

We don't talk about Pete

Hey! Heads up, this contains spoilers, because I just... didn't like how Sophie went along with everything when they were talking abt killing Pete, when she's shown several times to stand up for other people, so obviously, this is a "Don't like, don't read/interact." I have finished both chapters of TUC. But that one moment just rubbed me the wrong way. And hey, thanks for reading!

Sofia Lee Bicicleta couldn't believe what she was hearing Kingston Brown from uptown, say about Pete. "Take him out"? He's brand fuckin new to this just like she fuckin was. 

Sofie felt her irritation rise higher and higher until even fuckin Esther was agreeing. Sure, he shouldn't have tried to sell to Alejandro's granddaughters, but somethin told Sofie they're not strangers to the charismatic plug.

Finally, Sofie had enough. "So what, I'm fuckin new to this too! You gonna fuckin take me out too if I don't listen to ya fuckin bullshit? Gawd, you're all worse than the fuckin tourists who stand there gawkin in times fucking square." Sofie snarled, and La Gran Gata's presence was curled up in her lap. 

"What?" Kingston was the first to ask.

"If I can't fuckin control my powers from the oath I swore to a cute bodega cat, became her fuckin chosen, you gonna fuckin take me out? Put me down like a lame fuckin horse? For someone who hasn't fuckin left New York, you act like someone from fuckin Jersey City." Sofie hissed out, narrowing her newly heterochromatic eyes. 

"I wouldn't fucking kill you! You have better control over shit in a day than fuckin Pete has had in a week!" Kingston said, voice level but slightly elevated, pitched up in annoyance. 

"Because guess fuckin what! Gata fuckin had someone come and fucking teach me today the bare fuckin basics! D'you think Pete has fucking anybody like that!? Or do you think he got fuckin kicked out of the place he was livin', has nowhere to fuckin go, and is probably sleeping in some fucking alley!? God fuckin knows he wouldn't be allowed to a homeless shelter, less likely if he tried one run by Salvation fuckin Army!" Sofie, holding up a finger, took a moment to breathe and re-wet her throat. 

Misty started trying to talk, using a moment to ready her thoughts and then before she could she was cut off.

"I AM NOT DONE! He doesn't have fuckin shit, Mr. Brown from uptown! You say you're the voice of the fuckin city, but you sure as fuck sound like the voice of the society that looks down on people, who aren't fuckin familiar with this crazy ass bullshit! We're all living in a fucking cartoon! Where's the fuckin anvil then? Pete and I? We don't know this crazy ass bullshit and old magic! Even Mr. Fuckin March over here seems more familiar with this shit, and he's as dense as a fuckin door!" Sofie all but yowls, her magic forming around her hands. 

"Hey! Watch it!" Esther yells, coming to the defense of Ricky. 

Kugrash, who's been quiet for this long, clears his throat. "She has a point. The kid could use a teacher to control his powers before it becomes dangerous. Sofia, go take a fuckin walk." Kugrash says, ears pinning back against his head, tail swishing in irritation. Sofie grabs her shit and all but throws the empty Tupperware container at Kugrash. 

"I'm gonna go fuckin find Pete because Lord knows none of you fuckers would! How's that for a fuckin walk! You rat bastard!" She yells, heels clicking aggressively against the floor, slamming the door on her way out. 

The room sits in silence for a while, before Alejandro finally speaks, looking at the Juul that had been given to him by Pete. "Having someone teach him would be a good idea. That's plan A. Killing him is plan B. Still not locking him in a cave for eternity, Misty." Alejandro speaks with finality. 

"... Jersey fuckin City?" Kingston muttered to himself. "Says the one from fuckin Staten Island. Same thing, different font."  Kingston muttered to himself without much heat. 

Sofie struck a nerve in Kingston though, she was right. He was being unfair. Too much shit happening in his city though. Tony Stark is fucking dead, there's some devil running amok in Hell's Kitchen, and now there's a fucking Vox Phantasma. Great. 

#dimension 20 #kingston brown #Sophia Lee #Sophia Bicicleta #Kugrash (my beloved) #Ricky Matsui #Alejandro Ortiz #Misty Moore (implied) #Esther Sinclair #Pete the plug (mentioned) #the unsleeping city

[the-zebra-dragon]

Hi hello I have more King and Zoey and Egos thoughts and who better to have them with than good ol’ Prison Boyfriend? The colored dialogue near the end is technically them speaking their own language. It’s a Thing™ in their canon

If you read this: thank you I love you have a great day

Summary: King and Zoey are Not In Their Proper World™ and it’s causing a lot of problems. Yancy is a himbo.

~~~~~~

Happy Trails was abuzz with excitement: there was a new inmate transferring in. A troublesome new inmate. According to Tiny, their soon-to-be inmate was busted for smuggling something into their previous holdings. On the file that Yancy definitely didn’t look for during cleaning duty, what was being smuggled had been marked out in black sharpie. He’d put the paper against the light streaming in through a window to see if he could un-redact it. Pets. Robots. Flamethrowers. Weaponry. Secret Military Drone? And the last entry just read, What the hell was that thing?

Yeah, he was going to have to ask.

He made sure to stick around the area the new inmate was being checked in at- technically he was forced to be out in the yard, but the windows were open, and no one could really help it if the prison gang overheard everything. Especially if the guards were also listening in at a different window.

“Are you sure,” an unfamiliar voice asked, “you know how to keep this one in line?”

Murderslaughter laughed. “We’ve never had a prisoner we couldn’t handle here! This one will fit right in, I’m sure.”

Heapass near-audibly rolled his eyes.

“You have seen her file, right?”

“Of course, of course! We’ve got our best guards looking out for…”

“Zoey.” A small voice said. Yancy made a mental note- that was the prisoner’s… whatever they kept getting in trouble over.

“No one told you to talk.” The unfamiliar officer snapped.

“No need to be rude.” Murderslaughter said. “King, was it? Why don’t you head out to the yard, that’s where everyone else is.”

King’s ‘okay’ was nearly lost under everyone jumping back from the wall like they’d been burned. Yancy made his way toward the door, quickly pretending he’d been waiting there the whole time. The door opened with a screech (it always screeched, no matter how much oil was applied) and out stepped…

“Ey, shouldn’t you be in Juvie?” Sparkles yelled from the basketball court.

King’s shoulders went directly to her ears, casting worried glances around the yard. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, her frame hidden under a far-too-baggy prison uniform. Her hair had been dyed in streaks of green and purple, and she wore rather large, thick glasses.

She really did look like a scared child.

Out in the yard he couldn’t do his whole routine (well, the most of it, anyway) and so he’d have to settle for the next best thing- being ‘Yancy’: italicized, bolded, underlined, maybe in a cool font or something.

“Don’t be fuckin’ rude!” Yancy shouted back, turning all of his attention to King. “No filter on that one, honestly.” He fake-griped, jabbing a thumb at Sparkles. “Don’t youse mind him.”

King furrowed her eyebrows at him. She was wary still- that was okay. Natural, even. Someone who would have been shuffled around the judicial system as King had been likely didn’t trust easy.

“I’m Yancy.” He introduced himself. “And youses… King, right? I heard through the grapevine.” It was easier on her if he pretended not to know.

She nodded a little, eyes darting around. “King, yeah.”

“Good, suits you somehow.” Yancy said. “Let’s get youse settled in, yeah? Come on and meet the gang!”

~~

Yancy was… bizarrely nice, compared to welcome committees King had previously had. The fact that Zoey hadn’t come barreling out of the sky to tear him to shreds was… probably a good sign. Then again, Zoey also hadn’t shredded Cassius yet, and he was arguably worse than this.

Speaking of Zoey… just as soon as Yancy was done introducing her to the gang, King needed to find her. Somehow. Probably. Where Zoey would hide out in the yard… There was a big tree juuuuust out of reach of one corner of the outer fence, which someone had hung a pathetic-looking swing from. King glanced up into the branches. There we go.

“And that’s everyones! Now youses’ all settled in.” Yancy was saying, clapping her on the back with far more force than necessary. She wondered if that was on purpose, or if he was just unaware of his own strength. What would Zoey think?

Probably… good geez, what’s his deal? Why’s he trying to be my friend so much? Does he want something from me?

“We’ve still got a while out here, probably.” Yancy continued, leading her out away from people. Thank goodness, that was a lot. “So whaddaya’s want to do?”

She pointed back toward the tree. “What’s up with that? Nowhere else has had a tree.”

Yancy shrugged. “Breakout risk? I dunno. Youse want me to push ya on the swing? I can do that.”

She was sorely tempted to say yes just to see what would happen. Instead, she led him to the trunk, picked a sturdy looking branch, and reached. “Gimme a boost?”

“Youse can’t get over the wall from up there.” Yancy warned, offering his hands for her to step into.

King rolled her eyes. “Is it a crime to want to sit in a tree? Maybe I’ll see a bird or something up here.” Or something.

“Just thought I’d- oof!” He grunted as she put a foot on his shoulder for leverage. “Just use me as a ladder, why don’t ya?- warn youse.” Oddly enough he didn’t seem in the slightest bothered.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m too short for this.” She grasped at a branch and lifted herself the rest of the way, using the trunk of the tree for support. Swinging one leg up and over the branch, she paused to plan her next move. “Hey, um… don’t look up here for a bit? This isn’t an escape plot, I’m just…” she fumbled for a suitable lie, forcibly settling for a nonspecific noise and a hand wobble. “Y’know?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Alright, but if it goes south, I was suspicious of youse first. Can youse get down on your own?”

King frowned, kicking her legs slightly. “Um…”

“How’s this sound: I’ll stand guard down here, and when you wanna come down, you holler. Alright?”

She grabbed a branch and shakily hauled herself to her feet. “Alright. Thank you, Yancy.”

“No problem.” He dropped onto his butt at the roots and began to tear up some of the clovers growing there.

Going up was more difficult without help- some of the footholds she was eyeing were too far apart for her to use steadily. Up here, some of the branches had clearly been trimmed- enough to climb, not enough to climb well. And oh boy, King was not used to this sort of climbing. Just about as high up as she could get, one of her footholds snapped away, and the twig she’d grabbed for stability snapped when she tried to shift her weight.

Something fuzzy and black and white filled her vision, and she grabbed it without thinking. “I gotcha King!” A voice shouted, and she’d never been so relieved in her life as she found solid footing again.

“Zoey!” King exclaimed.

The zebra-dragon waved a wing. “Put your left foot a little more to the right, see that thick branch there?”

“Gotcha. How’d you get up here with no one noticing?” King shuffled in place a little to prepare for her next move.

“Went roughly bird sized and came down from above. They just assumed I was a minor sidewalk nuisance.” Something dark pointed into King’s face. “Grab my wing, I’ll keep ya stable.”

King reached for the black wing in front of her face, using the leverage to ease herself onto a sturdy branch for sitting. “Glad to hear it. I’m so glad to see you again! This soon, too.”

The companion wrapped her wings around her. “Glad to see you too, in one piece and out of handcuffs.” She pulled back, then smirked in a way King knew all too well. Her eyes snapped down to the inmate still sitting at the base of the tree. “Sooo? Who’s your new guard dog?”

#TSB x ISWM #the space between #in space with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #ahwm yancy #yancy markiplier #GOD OH NO I POSTED BEFORE I COULD GET THE TAGS #King voice: oh Zoey we’re really in it now #I’d like to think at some point during this AU Yancy’s knuckles change to KING and ZOEY

[tteokdoroki]

assistance please! | e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: eijirou kirishima x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.6K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: workplace!au, internship!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: eijirou kirishima loved being an intern, he had great co-workers, had a shot at his dream job, his boss had taken quite liking to him and of course, being the favourite intern had many, many perks.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut,  ( kirishima is in his twenties ), power dynamics, sub top!kirishima + power bottom!reader,   heavy!praise kink, heavy!miss + mommy kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral ( female receiving ), squirting, tummy bulges, cumplay, creampie.

♡ author’s note(s): hihi everyone!! today i present to you my contribution to the bnharem on the job collab! i had a lot of fun playing with different dyanimics in this fic, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! make sure you chek out the other works from the other amazing creators!! <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“oi! ‘shima! you’re needed in the boss’ office right away, she’s got important business for ya!, wants t’have a word. now.”

eijirou ducks his head politely in a sign of gratitude, thanking his co-worker and superior, keigo— for the heads up. keigo, or better known as hawks around the office ( for his fast speeds in completing work and luring lonely interns into his bed ), was a nice guy— second to the lady in charge and way too chatty. he was a bit of an air head, got the job done when it needed to be but that’s what kirishima was for, the replacement while keigo took his vacation time in the middle of the year like an idiot.

he wasn’t too sure why you kept the blonde around, he supposed it was because he was pretty but eijirou wouldn’t dare question you— he needed this internship if he was going to make it big in the sports news reporting scene. he’d been majoring in sports and healthcare at college, two years away from graduating when the opportunity to work for yn ln, one of the biggest sports journalists in japan had landed right in his lap. of course he was going to take it, of course he was going to do everything he could not to fuck it up.

in the cubicles beside him, the other interns try to muffle their giggles and titters of curious laughter as the red head gathers himself for the meeting.

“oooo, i wonder what you did this time,” kaminari teases from the right, leaning over his side of the cubicle to fiddle with the odd bits on kirishima’s desk. denki kaminari was another person kirishima wondered how the hell he got into the programme, but then again he was pretty to look at and brought a lighter air to boring office days.

“nothing! i’m innocent!” eijirou defends, hands releasing his files to fly up in defence.

the other interns, going by the names of mina ashido, kyouka jirou and hanta sero snicker amongst themselves at the interaction.

“don’t believe it, s’obviously more than nothin’ if you’re always getting called down’ta the boss lady’s office.” bakugou, another intern, grunts out with his nose deep buried in files for upcoming reports. he was a little too rough for the journalism lifestyle but got the job done. his attitude wasn’t for everyone. “they’re probably fuckin’.”

mina giggles and kirishima steps out into the paths between desks. “don’t be such a sourpuss ‘suki, just ‘cause you’re not her favourite.”

a lose ‘shut up’ is huffed, before katsuki turns to face his taller, buffer companion. “just don’t be late, bunch of us are goin’ for lunch later.” he adds and turns back to his paperwork.

“affirmative, catch ya later!”

the group waves the red head off as he heads to the elevator directing him to the main floor— this is where all the higher ups worked. the journey wasn’t unfamiliar to the intern, he wasn’t like the others and had the steps to your office memorised by heart. sometimes it was like walking home, to his comfort and sanctuary away from the stressors of work and the outside world— he knew that was bad, but you were so kind, such a sweet and understanding boss he couldn’t help but develop some level of comfort towards you.

to most, it seemed like eijirou kirishima was just unbelievably close to his boss, that you’d taken him under your wing.

he however, knew what you had, meant more.

a fluttering warmth spreads across the intern’s chest as he approaches the door to your main office and he knocks. behind it lay mountains of secrets upon secrets, things that kirishima knows about you that no one else does. the walls have hidden words, written across them in fonts of passion and admiration and it’s all that he can think about. you’re all that he can think about, and it’s still wrong. there’s a shuffling deep in the room and some flitters of paper here and there before your soft, velveteen voice breaks through the barrier between you. the one thing keeping you apart.

“come in,” you call smoothly and kirishima follows your orders swiftly, if not eagerly, entering the four walls of your office. ruby eyes dart across the room to locate your position and his heart skips a beat when he finds you, body leaning over your dark oak desk, papers scattered across it while you frantically sift through numbers and stocks and nonsense way above the level of a journalism intern. but even amongst the chaos, you’re beautiful— eyes sparkling with productivity, lined in little flecks across the colour of your orbs. the way you dress never fails to steal away eijirou’s breath— a tight fitting leather skirt that hugs your mature curves and a white blouse with the bottoms popped open— just enough for him to get a peek at your cleavage.

the poor intern has to hold himself back from blurring the lines of work and pleasure to shove himself deep into your chest, suck and lick at your plush breasts until he was high off the taste of your skin. but he wouldn’t do that, yet. not without your permission. “oh eiji baby, there you are!” you coo to the red head, bright smile stretching across blood diamond painted lips. you cross the room in three short strides, tall black heels clacking against the smooth white marble until you’re standing in front of and looking up at kirishima. “was starting to think keigo had ditzed like a pretty boy and had forgotten to send you my way, darling.”

eijirou’s cheeks flame at the smoothness in your syrupy voice, like sweet honey to his hears, the pet name striking a familiar heat deep within him. you always had a way with your words— enticing, almost like a siren calling out to him despite the taboo aura that surrounded what you had. whatever it was— he just knew it was more than your typical boss-intern relationship.

“even if he had, ‘m more than happy to be of service to you ma’am,” he responds almost a little too quickly, large hand rubbing the back of his neck and tugging at his baby hairs to ground himself.

you cock your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “always such a helpful, good boy eijirou,” you hum, lips pulling into a devilish red smile and the praise causing a new spark of lustful electricity to crackle through the air. “i could use a little assistance, please, i have this awful meeting with the board today, spent all night preparing and couldn’t go home, i could use some stress relief,”

kirishima’s gaze becomes hooded as he looks down at you, a familiar and bright desire burning in the pits of his stomach. “oh yeah? sucks that the paperwork kept you up all night ma’am…” he trails off, choosing to let his fingers dance up and down your sides— snaking an arm around your waist to pull you into him. you couldn’t or you wouldn’t go home. he’s not sure if he cares about the answer right now— not when you tremble in his grip, itching for something, anything from him. “how long do you reckon we have ms. ln?”

“ten to fifteen minutes sweetheart, give or take,”

you grin widens, taking an impossibly closer step to your intern— pressing the swell of your breasts against his hard chest. he can feel your nipples pebbling through your blouse, almost visible behind the white fabric and god the way you look up at him— he can no longer wait, he needs you. right here and right now.

“will you be needing my assistance throughout, ma’am?” kirishima asks, voice dropping a few octaves until it falls into a low growl.

“i expect it. you are my intern after all.”

the words laced with deep huskiness, the proximity of your bodies and the rising heat in the room is what leads you both to tumble into the next series of events. before he can’t register it, your mouths are slotted together in a fast paced and sloppy kiss, kirishima’s body manoeuvres you around the office, marking out a familiar pathway to your desk—his tongue remains sliding over yours in rapid movements as he commits your taste to memory, refreshing those from the last time he had you like this. yet every time you kiss and his tongue glides over yours, you taste sweeter than before; like peaches and morning coffee— you feel softer in his grip, every dip and curve to your body like it was built for him.

eijirou can't stop thinking of that last time, tucked away in your office after dark when your dainty hands pawed desperately at his hips to bring him closer or scratched at his back from sheer pleasure— kirishima wants to see you like that against, using his own hands to tear through your shirt and send buttons flying across the room. something in him just wants to do good for you, have you ache for him and earn himself some of your sweet praise. even as you step and stumble towards your work desk, the red-head lets his lips break away from yours, connected by a string of your own saliva before he drops to your neck, lapping tracks over your skin with the temptation to bite down and paint it shades of deep purple and blue.

but there are rules that you both have in place; ways to keep what you have a secret and hidden away from the public eye so that you don’t lose all that you’ve worked for and so kirishima can keep being your precious little intern.

“jump for me, please ma’am,” he whispers heavily into the junction between your neck and your shoulders, breath laboured and warm against your skin that begins to shine with light perspiration. mindlessly, you follow his orders, jumping up while your fingers curl into the mass of red on kirishima’s head and ankles lock around his waist—his hands meet the backs of your doughy thighs, squeezing the flesh between calloused digits while you toe off your heels.

“eiji, you’re so good,” you manage between feather light breaths as they clatter to the floor as the pair of you somehow make your way to the desk chair, pushing and tearing the clothes from one another’s bodies— including your crisp shirt. now seated and left in nothing but your bra, you tug harshly at your intern’s locks and bring his mouth down to yours, allowing them to move together in a dirty, messy kiss. there’s barely any time for you both to mess around, for him to tease you until your limit and you’re crying out for any type of touch from him, so eijirou quickly

flips down your bra, exposing your chest to cool, air conditioned air—not even bothering to unclip the material as his fingers descend on your nipple, pulling and twisting them until your back arches from the stimulation. “hurry, please eijirou,”

obedient as ever, your favourite boy drops to his knees in front of the chair you stay slumped in and with his height, he still manages to tower over you, practically at eye level with hunger framing the ruby of his own. large hands knead at your plush thighs, hiking your skirt up and up to give you room to spread your thighs, cunt growing sticky from anticipation— all from a few measly touches in familiar places. but this is kirishima, and he knows how your body works from countless hours spent after the office closes up— using one another to blow off extra steam. he knows just what makes you tick and moan his name.

logically, eijirou knows that your meeting could start at any minute and even though you’re both in a stickler for time, he still wants to get a taste at your skin before devouring your most intimate parts. he’ll make time to explore every part of you, to assist you in your stress relief. “‘m sorry miss, yn,” he whines needily, watching your chest rise and fall with want, feeling your body heat up and twitch from the ghost of his fingertips across your blemished skin. “gotta have a taste of you before the real deal, hope’ya don’t mind…”

latching onto the left mound of flesh at your exposed chest, kirishima sinks the point of his teeth into the area around your nipple— just enough to graze your skin and pull a sweet mewl from your mouth. you’re both lucky for the soundproof walls, your head thrown back in a lewd moan he lets his pink tongue roll over your bud in vicious circles. heavy, fat globs of saliva pool over the pink muscle, pouring down kirishima’s chin and painting your skin with a slick shine. “h-how...how could i mind angel, not when you treat me s’good,” you heave, vision fading in and out due to the overwhelming amount of pleasure flashing through your body in waves of hotness. “always doin’ so well for me eiji, aren’t you such a good boy?”

“yes ma’am,” the intern confirms with a erogenous slur, pacified and content on his knees for you— sucking, licking and biting at your chest to his heart’s content. “‘m your good boy,” he corrects you, however. eijirou feels most happy when grazing his tongue over the swell of your breasts, watching your face carefully for any twitches of delirium, it lets him know how hot aroused he makes you feel— that knowledge shoots straight to his cock, rock hard in his slacks while the redhead watches his boss writhe in her seat all for his eyes only.

such a dazzling view, and it’s all for fucking him.

your perfectly manicured nails run through red hair, scratching deliciously at his scalp until you’re forcing his head back and pulling kirishima off of your breast with a pop. “as much as i love seeing a pretty boy suck on my tits like a baby, we’re pressed for time angel, gonna need you to speed it up a little,” despite the softness to your face and the sudden evenness to the tone of your voice, the words that you speak to eijirou are vulgar, nasty, and turn him on to his wits end. “want you to eat me out eiji, can you do that for me?”

shaking his head, yes, beautiful claret eyes shining with acquiescence, kirishima wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand— like the tainted, dirty intern he is. you sigh down at him salaciously, ready to tear his innocence apart all over again. eijirou was always so willing to please, both in his work and behind closed doors— you would be a fool to not take advantage of that. with brute force, your intern forces your legs apart, eyes rolling back in his skull from the scent of your sex, dripping with your juices right through your underwear and stockings. overexcited, he rips through the flimsy material at your cunt, exposing your panties for him to see.

“you’re so...so wet ms.ln,” kirishima comments observantly, not even bothering to pull your stockings the rest of the way down your legs, instead opting to pull on the whole until it’s wide enough for his mouth to fit. “smell s’good, bet you taste even better,” there’s a patch on the crotch of your panties, darker than the rest of the material from where you leak and without a second thought, the red head instantly surges forward to lick a stripe over it, letting out a choked gripe as the taste of your cream from over the fabric invades his tongue.

you let out a shrill cry, hips jumping up at the first brush of his tongue against your untouched, clothed pussy. you wriggle even as kirishima holds you down, needing the heat of his mouth against you before your meeting starts. but he’s so good, so well trained, reaching up to your hips to yank your panties down in one fluid motion. leaning forward, kirishima savagely buries his face between your doughy thighs, hiking them over his shoulders from beneath the desk. his nose bumps against your clit, swollen from the lack of touch as he greedily inhales your scent once more— without warning, the intern kicks a stripe up the length of your pussy, sucking your juices into his mouth and smiling against your heat.

“d-don’t tease baby, be good for me,” you remind kirishima, your body trembles with anticipation, craving an orgasm to expel the stress of your work days out. the boy between your legs only hums, the sound running straight though cunt and vibrating against it, causing you to gush and spill your arousal out onto the leather seat beneath your cheeks. eijirou feasts on the slick that seeps from your fluttering hole, gliding his tongue up and down your sex, allowing the occasional pressure from his nose to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

the pads of his thighs burn marks into your legs, using them as leverage to pull your heated core further into his mouth, “can’t help it ma’am, y’got such a pretty pussy...s’only right that i worship you…” eijirou breaths right against your puffy folds, eyes trained on the way your hole clenches around nothing. a primal urge flares in his chest, a desire— no, a need— to see you filled with something, any part of him that can make you see stars and fuck you dumb. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry you jus look s’fucking pretty miss…”

attaching his lips to your clit, the redhead pushes the spit gathered on his tongue right over your sloppy sit, hazy ruby stare watching as his saliva mixes with your juices and slides over your empty hole. he follows the oozing trail with his tongue, lapping it up and spewing it back into your sex until the pink muscle slips past your entrance— slipping inside of you with no prior warnings. your knuckles that grasp the arms of the chair as you’re spoiled between your legs by your top intern, his hands snaking their way around the tops of your thighs to spread your sticky pussy lips apart in order to bring more of you to the cool air of the office.

“you like this don’cha? dirty little boy,” you tease the poor boy, watching as his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “being a naughty little intern between your boss’ thighs all to keep on pleasing  her, keep your position at her company, huh? fuck eiji, you just love miss riding your naughty tongue—ohmygod—“

the way you sound, voice smooth like chocolate over the obscene slurping that fills the thats air heavy with the scent of sex and, makes eijirou’s cock jump up, precum oozing from his tip as he begins to rut against the hard floor beneath your desk. he makes an attempt to respond, but your thighs lock his head in place and his words come out muffled against your core. “mph, luh it, you’re s’sexy, please ma’am—“ he mumbles sordidly against you, practically humping the ground at your feet as you pick on him.

for a brief moment, kirishima pulls away to watch you roll your hips into nothing, hot tears beginning to brew into our hooded eyes from the satisfaction he brings you with every flick and flit of his tongue against where you need him most. written in your eyes is the command to keep going, your hands twistingly sharply in red roots to bring the intern back to your sluice, spasming cunt. so he does as he’s told, shoving his tongue deep inside your ribbed, iron hot walls and dragging tip along them to collect and taste strings of your viscous juices.

biting your lip, you do your best to hold back a voracious howl, bucking your hips feverishly into your intern’s face and staining his cheeks with everything that you have— he thrusts his tongue into you to the pace of your own hips, moaning against your slippery slit until your eyes are rolling. “gonna cum from this eiji, from you eatin’ me out like this...jus need a little more— need your fingers pretty boy,” you can feel the twist of the knot in your lower tummy starting to unravel, signifying your oncoming high, and the room starts to spin while kirishima eats you out with new vigour.

“yeah? miss? you’re gonna cum for me?” the intern practically whines and pulls his tongue from your hear, almost crying as his hips thump against the floor desperate for friction. “wanna see you come undone s’bad, please cum for me, please, please—“ eijirou chants, replacing his tongue with two of his thick digits, watching as your slick cunt stretches around them accommodatingly. he jackhammers them inside of you, grunting lowly underneath the slaps of his palm against the meat of your ass, as he returns to your clit to suckle on it hungrily. his fingers curl instantly in search for the spongy spot inside of you— bearing down hard against it once it’s located.

“oh—hah, right there baby— right fuckin’ there—!” you squeal, only egging him on as white starts to cloud your vision, everything sounds so nasty and wet, while eijirou stimulates both of your pleasure spots. it becomes hard to breath, legs wobbling around his broad shoulders, but your intern doesn’t let up, determined to bring you to cloud nine.

“that’s it ma’am, right there—you’re almost there, can feel you clenching around my fingers...please cum, fuck i want your cum, wanna taste you so bad, cum. cum. cum!” and that’s all it takes, eijirou’s pleading voice between your thick thighs to make the coil inside you snap and for your orgasm to wash over you. you convulse in your chair, nectar gushing freely from your raw and overstimulated cunt, spewing all over the redheads face as he continued to lap at your clit to ride out your high.

but he doesn’t stop there, scissoring his fingers deep within your velvet walls as you continue to cum, making you shake your head and wail from the high levels of ecstasy.

“please eiji—n’more, can’t, no—“

“you can miss, i know you can—fuck you look so pretty when you’re about to squirt for me, please…”

as quickly as your first high ended, another one comes crashing over you in harsh waves— rocking your world as clear liquid floods from your pussy— the sheer force of you squirting, pushing kirishima’s fingers out from your tight, sappy hole. your release hits the floor with a crude slap, both of you moaning loudly almost for the whole world to hear. he doesn’t stop sucking, clearing up your pretty cunt even as you fade in and out of consciousness from pleasure— he stays lapping at you with burning, languid strokes of his tongue between your folds even as you weakly attempt to answer the phone now ringing from your desk.

clearing your throat, you muster up the strength to sound professional over the line before picking up the phone and bringing it towards your ear. “good afternoon, this is yn ln of shinku sports reports, bringing you the latest sporting news, how may i help you?”

‘this is the board, we need to discuss this month's stocks and reports.’

from the corner of your eye, you can see kirishima rise from his place underneath your desk— standing tall over you once more while you converse with the directors on the other end of the phone. as quietly as he can, the redhead tears through the buttons on his shirt in a similar way to you, prior to you fucking and unbuckles his slacks. he pulls down his boxers and pants in one go, revealing his thick, hard girth that stands tall and slaps against his stomach— tip an angry shade of red as precum smears across his lower belly.

you nod into the phone, forgetting that the board can’t see you as kirishima lifts you from the chair and lays you on your back across the desk littered with unread papers. “ah yes, i’ve been expecting a call from you…” you whisper so quietly instead, not caring if they’ve missed what you said. you’re hardly paying attention, choosing to wrap a fist around eijirou’s cock, slickly pumping him to prepare him to take you— he parts your thighs, eyes closing and body shuddering above you while you continue to converse with the board.

spreading the droplets of precum across his slit and iron hot tip, kirishima takes his cock from your grasp— heavily slapping it against your sensitive and swollen clit to see you jolt up the desk. “gonna fuck you so good miss, jus’ be good ‘n stay quiet for me okay?” he says, a whimper catching in the tail end of his words. you nod to him, rushed and way too eager, laying your head back on the hard wood your swimming gaze settles on kirishima as he taps the head of his cock against your hole, teasingly pushing it just past your entrance before withdrawing again.

‘ms. ln, are you still there? we really are pressed for time so we would love to start by discussing interviews for the next issue—‘

you forget that you’re still connected on the line, settling for wriggling impatiently underneath your intern, who’s caramel tinted skin glistens with sweat and his cheeks begin to flush with unadulterated desire— all from watching the way your puffy folds lube up his shaft with every push through them. you can see him losing his resolve, just as sensitive as you since he’s been holding back an orgasm and without the hint of a warning, eijirou’s hips jump forward and drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex— brushing against your cervix. you gasp out in surprise, finally losing focus and barely manage a more comprehensive response to the board you have waiting on the line. “y-yes!— yes, yes, i’m still here… you may proceed with the meeting.”

he’s big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had— and you’d seen a lot being a woman of your caliber this high up in the industry...but no one could compare to the way your sweet, doe eyed gentlemanly little intern filled you up, fat cock stretching your walls even with the shallow thrusts into your cunt he gives you to adjust. the weight of his girth sits heavily inside you, twitching as kirishima slides into you easily due to the stickiness lining your gummy walls, breath shaky and uneven as he holds out for you during this time. you can tell the poor boy isn’t going to last long, fingers sinking into your thighs with a harsh grip while he tries to hold himself back.

such a good boy, always waiting for your every command.

‘so we’d like to talk about the main feature for next month’s issue, do you have anyone in mind?’

the monotone voice of the board member is drowned about by kirishima’s shaky breaths above you, his pleading puppy dog eyes while he stills himself inside your spasming, puckered hole— he waits for permission, following orders like a trained pet even though he can hardly stand it, overwhelmed by the flutter of your sex around him and heat from your body despite thrown over the desk. “y-you’re s’warm...god ma’am...need to—need to move,” the redhead huffs weakly in order to keep himself quiet, a line of sweat dotting his brow. “please,”

you sit up on the desk, legs locking around his slender waist to draw him closer, sheathing more of the poor boy inside of you until he’s completely bottomed out and balls deep inside your pretty cunt. he drops his neck to your shoulder, tongue lolling over your salt licked skin before biting down to pacify himself, sharp teeth almost drawing blood while you adjust the cord of the phone. “i was thinking…thinking that we got the hockey player— the oylmpic champion…” your eyes drift to kirishima’s complacent face, giving him a nod to start moving while he sucks another bruise further down his onto your collarbone. “t-touya...touya todoroki—!”

you hiccup but play it off with a cough when kirishima pulls back his hips, so far that his girth completely leaves you, before he drives himself forward with one powerful thrust and fills you right up again. looking down, you see him bulge in your tummy, the line of his girth prominent against your body— slightly dwarfed in kirishima’s arms. you rock your hips, coaxing your intern into your warmth to help him build up a momentum of thrusts.

‘sounds like a good choice, do we have anyone who could interview him? i believe we can have PR set up an interview this week.’

the desk creaks below you, hard wood groaning along with the red head who hides himself in your neck, squeaking pathetically as he moves inside of you— precum smearing along your gummy walls that welcome his hardened shaft. your pussy opens up for eijirou like it’s welcoming him home, still growing used to the pleasure-filled burn and stretch of him pushing in and out of you. the nerves on his head catch amongst your inner ridges, making his toned body shake in ecstasy.

“m-ma’am, feel s’fucking good, so fucking good...” your intern hums against your salty skin mawkishly, large palms dropping to the flesh of your ass— kneading it to bring you closer to his body— cock barely leaving you due to your proximity. with slow strokes, eijirou fills you up, painting you with what leaks from his tip— prodding at your cervix and brushing up against your sweet spot in ways that make sweet nectar dribble from your hole.

your digits curl in his hair once more, the phone slipping from between your neck and creating rustling on your end. “eijirou,” you sigh breathily, humping back his cock while you squeeze around him selfishly, keeping your intern inside of you. “i-i mean eijirou kirishima, he’s an intern— such a… a good one at that…”

a immodest whimper brews in the base of eijirou’s throat, bubbling against his bruised lips  while you shower him with praise, indirect to him, hand snaking up to the back of your neck— tangling in your baby hairs as he pulls you up to a sloppy kiss, slotting your mouths together and running his tongue over yours. “f-fuck mommy, ‘m i your good boy? please tell me yes, fuck, yn— ma’am,”

kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does devoir and pathos, vulnerability stays written across his handsome features as he succumbs to the mind break the heat of your damp, creamy core as he fucks into you. you throb at his use of mommy, shakily pulling the phone away from your ear to reach up to his own, nipping the earlobe and tugging on it gently. “you’re my good boy baby, keep being good eiji, be quiet...you gotta stay quiet if you want to keep fucking mommy okay? you wanna cum inside me right?” you say, words aberrant and low toned  on your tongue, your intern hisses and whines in response— nodding his head again and letting out a barely coherent ‘yes’. “then shh, baby, let mommy talk yeah?”

“hm’kay,” he babbles, dropping his ruby framed gaze to where your bodies meet, hiking your skirt further up your thighs to get a better view of your cunt staining his heavy balls with a layer of your slick.

‘ms. ln, are you sure that you want an intern to cover this case—’ the board begins to ask you, muffled from the distance away from you both.

picking up the phone again, you pull the line towards you again— mindful of capturing eijirou’s weak little mewls over the device as he languidly pumps himself in and out of you. “i know what i—fuck, what i want. eijirou, will be—oh— on the case. that's final.” you huff, watching your intern fall into a pussyhaze, his precious mind fogging with thoughts of only painting you white inside and out as a reward for helping relieve you of stress. the slow roll of his hips into yours are accompanied by the soft slaps of his skin against your own, wet and sticky— determination to make you feel good crackling across his mind.

‘there’s no need to curse, ma’am, do you need a moment to recollect yourself before we proceed with discussing the other features.’

“i’m fucking fine,” you growl, in anger or need you don’t know. but kirishima frowns, you can feel it as he start nosing up your cheek— swiping his tongue over areas of skin he hasn’t touched just yet— he grunts possessively , unhappy with the use of your title coming from anyone other than him. to prove his point, he pushes your thighs wider apart, letting you drip all over the documents sitting below your ass and ruining the ink— important or not he starts a brutal pace into your cunt and presses down on your tummy so you can feel exactly where eijirou is inside you and know that only he can make you feel this way.

‘ms.ln—‘

“i’m fine. keep going.” you grit your teeth, biting your lip to hold down your panting— again you don’t know who you’re speaking to. your intern who slows the movement of his hips, postponing in and out of your tightened hole, clamping down on him eagerly or the stupid board member giving you grief on the phone.

they proceed to talk, barking out suggestions to your sports magazine, that you hate— even considering bringing in good for nothing athletes who’d treated you like shit in the past, and you’d sworn to never work for them again.

but it’s almost silly, how kirishima lets out small moans of mommy and ma’am, trying to keep your attention on him like you would give up grinding down on your intern’s dick for some prissy member of the board over the phone— but you love the slight possession eijirou has over you, moulding your iron hot walls into the shape of his fat dick that presses up against your pleasure spots, makes you convulse and drawl and become addicted to everything that is him. eijirou kirishima.

“takin’ me so good, so well ma’am...don’t think i can hold on anymore…please,” eijirou warns you, losing control of his body as he takes you for his own like he’s done many times before after hours— your gazes lock, you can see his desperation to ruin you, moan for you despite the people on the phone and the people outside your office.

if he grows too loud, he could give you away— they could be listening in to your poor needy little intern humping you like a feral dog and whining your name. and as much as that thought makes your hole spasm around his fat cock, make his thrusts stutter and eyes screw shut while you moan in sweet, almost silent harmony, you love your job and so weakly, you take two of your fingers, shoving them deep into eijirou’s mouth as it hangs open in heavy pants of warm air. you press down on his wet tongue, fucking into his mouth in tune with the pace of his hips plunging deep within your walls, churning up your syrupy and sticky insides.

“keep quiet, baby,”  you hiss to the redhead, who’s eyes start to brim with fresh hot tears from the overwhelming pleasure. “let mommy take care of this, yeah? finish up so you can let it all out on me.”

he sucks on your fingers to calm himself down, shallow breathing while he paws at the flesh on your sides and circles his hips into yours— letting his leaky tip bare down on your sweet spot and forcing the air out of your body. white hot pleasure flashes through your bloodstream, replacing any air of professionalism flooding through them. you can’t, you physically cannot hold back either of your orgasms— you can’t concentrate as your mind starts to fall away with the world and your gaze hones in on the way kirishima takes your fingers in his hot mouth so deep in an attempt to hush himself.

the coil in your tummy begins to unwind and the room swims once more. ‘ms.ln is everything okay over there— we need to progress with his meeting if we’re—‘ the annoying board member sounds underneath kirishima’s sloppy groans, saliva dribbling down the sides of his mouth. your dirty, good boy.

“i’m going to need to take a rain—hah— a rain check on this meeting. you’ll hear from me when my interns and i are ready—“ you huff, cutting the staff off and quickly throwing the phone onto the hook, you’ll have keigo deal with the consequences later but for now you focus on kirishima who picks you up by the ass, lifting you up and down on his cock in frantic movements as he finally loses all connections to his control. “ohmygod—eiji baby, slow—fuck, down—“

he shakes his head, latching onto your collar bone as he revels in the way you leak down his shaft and drip between his balls, lewd squelching sounds fluttering through the air hot, sex scented air at full volume. “‘m sorry ma’am— i can’t… i’m really close, i really need’ta cum...please ma’am...mommy, i’ve been good—please let me cum...“ eijirou groans heartily, from deep in his chest as if he’s finally releasing what he’s been holding back— arms flexing and the sweat from his body slicking up your own.

limbs shaking you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your foreheads against one another, while you nod. he worked so hard to make you feel good, all day long to do the best job that he can— pressing small kisses to his lips encouragingly. “you can do it baby, one last thing for me— fill me up eiji, cum for me.” you whisper between bites and sucks on his lower lip, lined with a vibrant shade of red.

“cummin’, cummin’...miss yn, mommy—!” and then his hips come to a halt, his dick pulsing as waves of his cream line your insides with an opaque white, thick and seeping down your thighs. his fingers drop to your sensitive cunt, slipping quick circles over your swollen clit to bring you to your high. his cock never stops pumping in and out of you, pushing his seed further into your sex while you writhe and fall over the edge into your orgasm— gushing so hard you force him out of plugged and full hole.

losing his strength, kirishima collapses on top of you, pressing out both to the hard wood seat which you’re surprised  is still standing, his lips pressing fleeting kisses across your face and neck while you both come back down to earth.

and then he looks up at you with a weak smile, “did i do good?” he asks you lazily and almost sleepily— refusing to budge from laying atop you and almost crushing you with his weight.

pushing back his hair to soothe him. “always eiji, you’re not my favourite intern for nothing,” you coo at him, pulling him up to press your lips to him in a soft kiss.

“i sure hope you don’t have any other favourites, i want to be the only one who assists you like this,” kirishima says, remaining tangled with you for a moment more in your office, content with snuggling into your exposed and bruised side.

you share a sleepy giggle, intending to clean up later— eijirou completely forgetting about the lunch he’d promised the other interns after your meeting.

oh well, assisting you was a much better treat than spending time with any one else.

#tteokdoroki #bnhacity #kirishima #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha imagines #bnha fic #bnha fanfic #mha x you #mha x reader #mha smut #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fic #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima imagine #kirishima smut #bnha fanfiction #kirishima scenarios #kirishima fanfic #kirishima headcanon #kirishima eijirou #eijirou kirishima smut #kirishima eijiro smut #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijirou kirishima imagine #kirishima eijiro headcanons #eijiro kirishima x reader

[morgana-ren]

👉👈 Spare thoughts on like Crystal Lake/Friday the 13thesque camp counselor au with the Lov or mainly Shigaraki. I was thinking about watching Fear street and suddenly this was all I could think about

So I wrote this bit and yes, I’m painfully aware it’s not plot-perfect or polished but I LOVE the concept and wanted to put something out for it to show my appreciation that you shared it with me. Warning: it’s very nasty and I took a lot of liberties here. I hope that’s okay. Tomura is the gross incel-y killer. It wasn’t QUITE Friday 13th style, more “creepy counselor gone mad” because when I started writing it, I was a bit out of it.

I hope it’s okay!

-

A slippery hand clutches yours- stark red and slicked with sweat and blood, trembling bones and quivering fingers- clinging to yours as if you alone could keep her anchored to her quickly fading lifeforce. She’s been stabbed repeatedly, but it’s the wound on her chest that pulses most noticeably with her breath; A font bubbling from the cleave a few inches beneath her collar bone, a scarlet brook staining down the front of her pastel camp uniform.

Her mouth open in a strangled, wordless cry: A petrified 'o' shape that seems terribly uncanny alongside her sallow cheeks, fear and pain reflected in her wide and panicked eyes as her grip on consciousness rapidly fades. Crimson stains her slippery ivory teeth, gurgling on her own bile as she struggles to make out a fragmented sentence between her presumably collapsing lungs and the blood pooling in her throat.

Her face, the perfect mask of fear covered in dirt and her own fluids, begins twitching, blinking tears through the muck that cakes her cheeks. The hand not wrapped around yours in an iron grip curls into a point -shaky and pale and borderline indiscernible- and it takes you a brief moment for you to realize she’s pointing directly behind you. It’s only then that you rip yourself from your traumatized stupor and hear the footsteps approaching from the cabin door.

You’re ready and willing to defend yourself if need be, shooting to your feet with lips pulled in a snarl, but you’re not greeted with the sight of a terrifying killer brandishing a knife: You’re met instead by the familiar face of your fellow camp counselor and long time friend.

“Tomura!”

You can’t help it. You throw your arms around his scrawny neck, almost knocking him over in your relief as you bury your head into the swell of his black hoodie. He’s a welcome sight- been close to you ever since you started attending even though he’s years older than you are, and he’s always made you feel better- safer somehow.

You’ve never been more happy to see him than you are now, thanking whatever God is looking out for you that he’s alive and that he found you. You squeeze him with every ounce of strength your little body can muster as he wraps his own gangly limbs around you and cages you to his chest in turn- almost too tightly.

“I looked for you! I couldn’t-“ Breath escapes you, tearing up in his embrace. “I couldn’t find you! I thought he’d gotten you too! I was so scared-”

He gives a firm shake of his head, shaggy silver hair ruffling over his shoulders. He reeks, as always, of slight mildew and something vaguely earthy- like ash or cinder, even as he hasn’t ever been allowed on fire duty. “No. He can’t be far behind though. We need to go.” 

“Okay!” You nod, wiggling free of his reluctant arms and dropping to your knees again by your wounded friend. “Just help me with Maureen- she’s really hurt- We need to get her to a hospital and fast-” “Leave her.” His knobby fingers encircle the rounds of your forearm, jerking you back to your feet at his side again with a bruising yank. ”We don’t have time- she’ll only slow us down.”  “How can you say that? We can’t just leave her here! She’s bleeding out- We can save her, we just have to-” 

A quick peek back at her and you realize she looks- if possible- more terrified than she did only moments ago in the face of death. She’s shaking like a leaf- Her wide, milky eyes focused in on Tomura as she attempts another gasped word.  “Look- Just look at her. She’s done for. Let’s go- I can keep you safe, I can-.”  “You don’t know that- You don’t know that- Please Tomura, we don’t have time to argue, just help me!” 

“I do know that,” He insists, trying again to tug you towards the door. “She’s in shock, and the blood loss is too much for them to be able to save her even if we could drag her out of here. It was obviously intentional. I can protect you but we need to leave now-” 

Your eyes flick back to Maureen and the pooling beneath her prone body that seems to grow larger by the second. Her mouth trembles, choking on the words that are trapped in her flooded throat. 

You shake him off once more and lean down to her as Tomura groans in what seems like, if you didn’t know better, annoyance. You ignore him, trying to coax her into your arms carefully, but she only quivers in your grasp, still trying to hiccup out something between her pained gasps and slipping mortal coil. 

“C’mon Maureen- You can make it, I know you can!” But she remains limply, dead weight on the cabin floor, more fearful of something directly in front of her than the inevitable death that awaits. You lean forward once more to try and get a grip beneath her arms to hoist her upward, but she holds firm, puffing a final wheeze in your ear that takes a moment to process.  “Him.”

Blood bubbles up through her throat following the words and she spits it up over her blouse, eyes going blank and body falling into limpness. The wounds across her body still ooze a steady stream of blood but the last of her spirit seems to still, light fading from her eyes in one final moment.

“Tomura, help-” Panic threads through your voice, still trying to drag her forward.

But he doesn’t move to help you. He only stares blank faced and cold as Maureen seizes in her death rattles; Her pallid fingers still coiled in an accusatory gesture at her side. 

“Please-”

“I told you, she’s dead.” He pulls you away by the collar like a kitten, knocking your center of balance clean from the sheer force of the grab as he coaxes you once again into his arms. “Can we go now? We need to go, need to get away from here-”

Something catches your attention, something solid in his hoodie’s kangaroo pouch that pricks you slightly as you fall into his chest. A slight sting on your arm as it collides with his torso. 

”Ow!” You pull away once again, his body stiffening as you inspect a fresh little cut on your arm where something sharp pricked at your flesh. “Tomura, what the hell is in your pocket? That hurt-”  ”Nothing! Quit wasting time- Come on! We need to leave.” 

“It cut me...” You pluck at the skin once more, hissing in slight pain as the small laceration pulls apart under your attentions. “Do you have a knife in your pocket?”  “What? No- well, yeah. I picked it up in the kitchens when I was trying to find you. I thought I could defend myself with it if he caught up to us-” 

You turn and narrow your eyes at him, shaking your head. “We don’t have knives that sharp. We have butter knives. It’s not safe for the kids, and after you got caught last time-”  “We have one, remember? The one we keep in the drawer for the barbeques.” “I looked! When the girls cabin scattered after the attack, I went and looked and it was gone!” “I must’ve grabbed it before you got there. Is this really important right now? We need to go! Stop being difficult!-”  “How is that possible? The boys cabin didn’t know anything was going on until we fled there when he attacked Stacy and Becky. You didn’t even know what was happening until- You- You weren’t even there-” 

“Well I have it, alright?” He interrupts you, face contorting into a sneer. “Shouldn’t you be happy? It means you’re not fucking defenseless if he shows up again.” “How-”

“Don’t worry about it!” He grabs your arm again, bruising grip deceptively strong for such a lithe man, crushing the bones in your wrist with his fingers. “Come on- Lets go! We can finally leave here together- You’ll be safe with me-”

Him

It could be the ferocious expression, or his demands that are cloaked in the facade of a benevolent request. Maybe his story that doesn’t add up or perhaps you’ve simply known all along somewhere deep down. Either way, It hits you in one terrible moment- one world shattering instant where everything suddenly clicks into place.

Tomura- quiet, eerie Tomura with the sharp mind and the eyes sharper still. Tomura with boundary issues who always found a reason to touch things he wasn’t supposed to. Tomura who only ever had a soft spot for you because you were kind to him when everyone else kept a mile berth. 

Tomura, who’s only friend to speak of is you.

‘He’s so obsessed with you! It’s fuckin’ creepy! You should get a restraining order before he, like, snaps and corners you and makes you suck his dick or something. He’s not even supposed to hang around with the younger group but he’s always following you around like a lovesick puppy.’

‘What? No he’s not! That’s a horrible thing to say! He’s a nice guy, you guys are just awful. You don’t even give him a chance-’

‘He’s always staring at you like he wants to eat you! I bet he’s the one stealing your stuff. I’ll bet he has one of those weirdo shrines to you in his cabin and jerks it over your picture like ‘Oh, oh yeah, ride me harder, oh fuck me faster- Oh!-’

‘You’re disgusting! He’s just nice to me because I’m nice to him! Everyone else is such an asshole to him- Including you! God, you guys are so fuckin’ mean for no reason! Just because he’s a little different-’

‘He gives me the creeps. He’s been like that since we were kids. Remember when he was a teenager but still only ever hung around you? He couldn’t even make friends his own age! Even the other councilors are wigged by him. The only one who even talks to him is you. I’m telling you, he’s a fuckin’ weirdo. There’s something totally off about him. He’s going to snap one day. We’re not the only ones that avoid him, you know-’ 

‘Fuck you guys. You guys are such fucking judgmental dicks. He’s never even done anything to you. You’re just a mean spirited bitch.’ 

Tomura who would sneak you into the woods and show you rotting animal corpses with macabre excitement in his wide red eyes. Tomura who used to sneak knives in his bag as a camper and show you how to sharpen and hold them until he got caught and the entire camp had to institute a new safety policy. Tomura who had to be scolded repeatedly for trying to sneak into the girl’s cabin as a young boy to try sleep next to you, and that it wasn’t appropriate for him to wait outside of it for you as he got older either. Tomura who has distain for everything and everyone in a world that shunned and rejected him in equal capacity. 

Everyone but you. 

Your friends are dead, slaughtered like animals and strewn across the camp in a grotesque tableau of vicious murder, the only knife in the area conveniently tucked in his pocket, his hand clasping your wrist in an iron hold that doesn’t ask, but demands you obey him. 

“Tomura- Tomura tell me you didn’t- You couldn’t-”  You’re shaking now, feeling more in danger than you did before the man in the mask who conveniently never chased you or even gave you a second glance even as he had every opportunity to do so. The murderer just as gawky and gangly as Tomura, lean, wiry muscle and imposing height almost too tall for his own body and manic, scarlet eyes. The killer who held the knife with the same practiced grip that he’d shown you so many years ago-

“What are you even talking about? Let’s go-” 

He rips you forward, taking you into his arms again and squeezing.

‘He’s going to snap one day-’

“Tomura- Tomura no! Tomura! God, please tell me you didn’t do this! Look at me and tell me!” 

He looks at you, mouth opening to form a sentence before abruptly cutting short. He studies your face, your quivering body, the blood across your cheek. You think, for a moment, he might break down. But he doesn’t.  He laughs. A nasty, cruel chuckle directed at you and only you; there’s no one else alive to hear it.

“You always were too smart for your own good.” 

The facade of panic and adrenaline falls from his pallid face, replaced with his stereotypical look of total nonchalance and almost boredom. Your stomach plummets, limbs paralyzed in abject terror as his pale hand reaches forward, thumbing at the swatch of blood across your face. 

“I had to, you know. Wanted to for years. But I had to wait until you were a counselor with me. Had to wait until I could do it before the kids arrived. Too many variables I couldn’t control. No one is coming for days, and they’re finally dead, and by the time anyone finds them, we’ll be long gone.” 

A stab of ice down your spine at his words, the uncanny horror of it all whirling your vision to a blurry abyss. “You can’t- what have you done? What have you done?”

“What I had to! They were insufferable and stupid- your harpy friends wouldn’t let us be. But now they’re dead.”

“-Have to get help- we need to call the police-“

“Stop being stupid.” He brushes the hair out of your face with a tender finger laden in blood. “We’re leaving here and never coming back.”

“You need to turn yourself in-“ you stammer. “They’ll know it was you, God, Tomura-“

“Do I look like I care?” A snarl lifts his scabby lips, bearing the sharp canines beneath. “I don’t give a fuck if they know. I hope they do. They’ll never find us. I’ve had so long to plan-“

“No! Tomura, this is insane!”

“It’s over. Come to peace with it.” He hisses, wrenching you even closer, his dry lips on the shell of your ear. “You’re coming with me, baby, and we can finally be together. You can finally show me all those dirty little things you never got the chance to because your friends made you feel ashamed.”

The edge of the blade in his hand flicks up through the thin threading that binds the top buttons of your counselor uniform, baring your cleavage and the top part of your bra to him. You scramble to try and cover yourself, but he’ll have none of it; he quickly swats your hands away and presses the tip of the knife to your sternum.

“I’ve waited so long for you-“ A ragged breath escapes him, chest shuddering with the force of the exhale. “To touch you. To take you. Do you know what it’s like? What you fucking do to me?”

“Tomura- this- this is wrong! Please! Please let me get help! We’ll get you the help you need- I will! But you can’t do this! It’s not right!”

“There’s only one way you can help me, babe.” The hand not threatening you with the knife slides down and squeezes your breast, your entire body stiffening in visceral disgust. “Something I’ve wanted as long as I can remember. If you’re eager enough for it now, we have some time-“

“No! No! Don’t- stop touching me! This is sick! They’re dead! Tomura- stop it!”

“They are. And I could never, ever hurt you, but I’m sure there’s someone still alive that I could to calm you down- to make you see sense.” He squeezes hard enough to make you cry out, nipple catching between his fingers through the thin fabrics you’re wearing.

You blink up at him, bleary eyes full of silvery tears that trail down the slopes of your cheeks. He doesn’t look like Tomura anymore- not your Tomura. He looks like something twisted and uncanny, some feral beast that’s inhabited your friend’s brain and driven him to the brink of madness. He leers down at you lasciviously, thick pink tongue swiping across his teeth and you’ve never felt more uncomfortable in your own skin under his gaze than you do right now.

“It’s not fair when you cry like that. I’m already painfully hard-“ He releases your tit in favor of clutching your wrist, bringing your trembling hand down to his crotch hidden by the length of his sweatshirt and forcefully rubs the length of his throbbing erection against your palm. “But it always did things to me when you got all weepy.”

You’ve been defending a monster.

“Remember when you would cry into my lap because that group of girls was mean to you and I had to keep adjusting you every few minutes?” He barks a laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “God, it was so hard not to sink you down on my cock right then. Fuck, I would have destroyed you if I let myself- all sniveling and delicate and weak. You always needed me to protect you, didn’t you? So trusting. Naive, really. You had no idea what I was thinking about at night. What I’ve been planning to do to you for years-“

You can only give a broken, disbelieving cry of his name- trying to bring back the boy you knew. The sweet boy. The shy one. The quiet one with morbid curiosities and wild ideas on the world.

“Your friends knew, of course. But you didn’t listen, you silly, dumb little girl. Tried to warn you, but you just wouldn’t listen. And now they’re dead.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you bastard! You’re a monster! You’re-“ You batter your fists uselessly against the steel panes of his chest and he barely even budges.

“Remember when you could come to the woods with me and I would show you all the cool stuff my dad taught me? You thought it was weird but you still came because you’ve always been so sweet to me. My dad’s dead now, but I made sure he left me his remote cabin. I’ve wanted to take you there for so long, and now I finally can.”

He advances on you and even in your rage, you instinctively backpedal. Before long, he’s got your back flush against the scratchy wood wall, toe to toe with you with his imposing frame trapping you to the surface behind you in a gangly cage of his spider-like limbs.

“Fuck- It gets me so hot when you act like a little brat. When you fight me even when you know there’s no way you can overpower me. You never could. Even when we play-wrestled. I could make you scream without even trying. So fucking precious to see you bare your teeth at me like you’re capable of lifting a finger against me.”

“I hate you- I hate you!”

“That’s okay, babe. I can learn to forgive you. Tell you what, why don’t you wrap those pretty lips around my cock and start sucking out my forgiveness with your sharp little tongue and we’ll take it from there.”

“Go to hell-“

“If I go, you’re coming with-“ He puffs into your ear, one hand swirling into the front of your shirt, the other slicing from hem to collar in one swift motion, leaving your torso bared to his greedy eyes. “I’ve earned you. You’re mine now- you belong to me and anyone who has ever tried to say otherwise is dead!”

And the worst part is he’s right. Maureen bubbles a lifeless pool of blood a few feet away. The ones who tried to fight slashed repeatedly until they were too weak to stand and died a slow, painful death into the grass. The ones that tried to run cut down from behind- a cowardly act that shows his true nature. You can scream and cry and wail your sorrows to the terrible moon that hangs through the trees, but no one will come to help you; there’s no one left. No one but him.

And no one is coming for days.

“I was going to wait until I got you home to fuck into your guts but you’re just not getting it, and I don’t think I can wait.” He thrusts the knife back into his pocket temporarily, opting instead to fumble with the front of his jeans. Dread pools in your stomach, threatening to overturn the contents into the filthy floor, but all you can do is watch in terror as he unzips the front of his jeans and fishes his pale cock from behind it.

“Go ahead and get on your knees for me and stick your tongue out. Think of it as a practice round.”

You shake your head, weakly resisting as he shoves you to the ground and taps the hot, purpling tip on your face, smearing his precum across your ruddy cheek.

“Don’t be shy. I promise once you get a taste, you’ll love it. You will learn to love it. You don’t have another choice. Just wait until I get you back home. I’ve learned so much since last summer. I can’t wait to show you.”

#morgana and friends #reader x shigaraki #nsft #tw dacryphilia #tw implied noncon #tw blood slaughter and all the fun stuff #him being gross and disgusting #not my best work but I wanted to get it out #just a snippet really #think of it as a cute fun lil thing I’m puttin out for funnies

[justanotherblonde23]

I Want You - A Din Djarin Story

Author’s Note: Hey there, internet friends. So I had an ask from my friend @hdlynnslibrary that I can’ find to save my life. Luckily, I wrote it down! “Hi Kat! My darling! I must admit to feeling #horny okay? Soooo what about a prompt for my fav space man Din? Like maybe with an #inexperienced reader?” Oh Heather, my love, ask and you shall receive! What started out as a little somethin became 14 pages, double spaced, 12 point Times New Roman font. So my darling, I hope you enjoy this Din x reader fic, it was made with LOTS of love <3

Warnings: SMUT, there is definately sexy times going on over here, all aboard the horny train, leaving the station as we speak. Choo-fuckin-choo! Also, language because I am me and since I was born and raised in Boston and I have been swearing like a goddamn sailor since, well, ever lol. Oh, and there’s a slight breeding kink, just an FYI. I’m sorry, it just all came out and I couldn’t help it and Din Djarin wants his clan to expand, okay? 

Thank you to all who read, like, comment, reblog, etc. It warms my heart that you all are enjoying my work. Please let me know what you think of this one :-)

You had been traveling with Din on the Razor Crest for the past year or so. He found you on Arvala-7, working alongside Kuiil. You were good with your hands, fast with a blaster, and most importantly, you connected with the Child. From the second that kid saw you, he decided that you were his. He was the largest reason that you were here right now. How anyone could resist those big eyes, his floppy ears, and that cute baby smile. He turned your heart to putty. 

Your days were spent mostly on the Crest, keeping an eye on the little one and tending to the ship the best you could. The baby required a fair bit of effort, but you didn’t mind; he had become like your own child without you even realizing it. 

Somewhere along the way, you had become closer with the Mandalorian that you traveled with. Clipped sentences became more extended conversations as you gently urged him out of his shell. Soon, he became curious about you, asking all sorts of unimportant questions, ranging from where you grew up to what your favorite color was. Dinners alone with the kid turned into Mando joining you, lifting his helmet ever so slightly so that he could take a sip of the broth you made or a bite of the ration pack you heated up. Every time he did this, you made sure to keep your eyes on your plate, never wanting to disrespect his Creed in any way. 

As the months progressed, your feelings for one stoic Mandalorian grew. You caught yourself lingering in the cockpit more when after you put the little one down at night. You also caught yourself staring on more than one occasion, and you knew for a fact that Mando saw you, too. How could you not stare at that imposing figure that you shared a home with? The duality of the man was awe-inspiring, to be sure. He was a fearsome warrior, and you had witnessed his prowess first hand many a time. He brought bounties in nonstop, always jetting off to the next one before the last quarry had been frozen away in carbonite for a day. And then there was the gentleness that he had with the baby. You could tell that this was his first time taking care of another person by himself. Sometimes he was a bit rough around the edges, but he did try his best. He was learning how to be the best parent he could for the kid, and watching that play out warmed your heart. 

Often times, when he took the kid up to the cockpit so that you could use the refresher and wash the day away, you could hear him up there talking to the kid gently. Sometimes he speaks in Basic; other times, he speaks in what you assume is Mando’a. Every once in a while, you hear him sing the baby a lullaby on those restless nights where nothing seems to calm that sweet baby down. The first time you heard him sing softly to the kid, you knew that you loved him. 

You never felt right acting on your feelings; you didn’t know how he thought about you. Also, you were terrified of making a fool of yourself. Truth be told, you have never been in a man’s bed before. The life of a refugee of the Empire didn’t leave much time for amorous encounters. By the time you found Kuiil, all you wanted was to keep your head down and do your work. If you happened to meet someone along the way, fantastic, but you had more pressing matters to attend to, like surviving in the desert. 

That all changed one night when you least expected it. Mando had taken the kid to soothe him and put him to sleep, so you took the opportunity to use the fresher. You had been working hard that day, repairing areas of the Crest that needed maintenance while juggling an inquisitive little one. You took your time, relishing the way that the water felt against your bare skin, the warmth seeping into your muscles and soothing your bones. You wouldn’t tell anyone, but you viewed water as a gift from the Maker itself. For the first time in your life, you didn’t have to scrounge and save every last drop. You’d never had the luxury of using actual water the bathe daily; you’d never been in the financial position to have such a thing. For the Galaxy working class, a sonic was the best you could hope for most of the time. It cleansed the body of dirt and grime just fine, but it wasn’t pleasant like water was. 

In all honesty, your idea of a luxuriously long shower was well under ten minutes, but it was a dream come true for you. After you were clean and smelling of the fresh soap that you used, it was time for you to get out. You grabbed the small towel, drying your body, and then reached for your clothes. Your hands floundered around a bit until you realized that you had inadvertently forgotten to bring a new pair of clothes or your sleep shirt in with you. You had been in too much of a rush to hand off the baby and get just a few moments to yourself. 

You groaned at your flightiness. Kriff, that only left you with two options: you could either put your dirty clothes back on, or you could try to make your way back to your sleeping quarters wrapped in this tiny ass towel. Neither option particularly appealed to you, but your desire for cleanliness finally won out. 

You gathered up your belongings and quietly opened the refresher door, careful not to be too loud. It usually took a bit of time to calm the baby down enough for him to go to sleep, and you didn’t want to interrupt that process. The lights in the hold were dimmed, leaving you with the ability only to see a few steps in front of you. 

Unfortunately, your quest to be stealthy was in vain. You had forgotten that you had moved a particular toolbox during your work project this morning. Said toolbox ended up being placed right where you could smack your little toe on it. You yelped in pain, dropping everything in your arms in favor of hopping up and down on one foot and clutching the other in your hands. This caused the towel to also fall to the ground, leaving you bare. A noise drew your attention up, and your eyes met a helmet, staring right back. Mando was standing right in front of you, apparently drawn by the noise. 

You dropped your foot, standing up straight, eyes wide in shock. You didn’t move; you barely breathed. Your mind was short-circuiting, and you didn’t even have the sense to pick up your towel off the ground. Your body was overflowing with embarrassment, horror, and- was that arousal? Stars, you were standing here, completely bare, across from the Mandalorian who has every inch of himself covered. 

Ever so slowly, he reached down and grabbed the towel you had dropped, carefully wrapping it back around you. His hand accidentally brushed your breast, causing you to suck in a breath of surprise. He murmured his apologies, beginning to withdraw his hands, but you were faster. You reached out, stilling his retreating hands and placing them back on your body. You wanted this, you wanted him, and you wanted to make sure that he knew it. 

He tilted his helmet curiously, waiting for you to give him a prompt. He took in your labored breathing, your increased heart rate, the way you bit your lip. Your eyes met his visor, and he could barely even see your eye color because your pupils were so blown with lust and desire. He groaned a deep, low sound in his chest at your obvious reaction to his presence. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?” he ground out, trying to keep himself in check. 

You moved your hands, gently cradling his helmet where his cheeks would be, breathing in his scent swirling so close to you. You could smell the blaster residue, the leather, the metal of his beskar, the soap you both used in the shower, and that smell that was uniquely his. You’d never get tired of it, not in this life or the next. 

“I want you,” was your reply. “Touch me, Mando, please.”

“Din,” came his reply, almost in a whisper, as if it was something sacred. 

You frowned, your nose scrunched up in confusion. You studied this helmet, eyes searching for answers. 

“My name, it’s Din. Din Djarin.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, eyes wide with confusion. You knew the sacredness of a name in this Galaxy. Stars, you hadn’t even told him your own name for a solid three months. The only reason he had found out was because he overheard you talking to the kid one day. A name was even more sacred to a Mandalorian. It was precious, something to be guarded with the utmost care. You’d never even wagered that he’d give it to you, ever. 

“You can use it, but with just me and the kid around. No one else gets to know it, no one but you.” 

You nodded, understanding just how much it had taken for him to tell you. His name was a gift, something that you would keep close and cherish. 

“Din,” you spoke the Mandalorian’s name for the first time, testing it on your tongue, relishing the taste of it in your mouth. It was a good name, a solid name, a name fitting for the warrior before you. “Din Djarin, a beautiful name.” 

Hearing his name in your mouth set Din’s soul on fire. The way you spoke it, the way you had considered it and acknowledged the importance of what he had just given you, it made him want to hear it again and again. He wanted to listen to you moan his name in ecstasy, begging him for more, begging him for pleasure. He wanted to hear you yell it, mutter it, say it in everyday conversation. He wanted to hear his name drip from your lips for the rest of his life. 

That night was the first time he took you and gave you pleasure. You had come on his tongue and fingers three times before you were strung out and exhausted. You fell asleep in his bunk wrapped tightly in his arms. That was two months ago. 

You still had yet to take him fully, to allow him to be inside of you. You had admitted that you were nervous, that you had no experience to work off of. Din had been nothing but patient and kind, never pressuring you into anything that you weren’t comfortable with. He had told you that, “We have all the time in the world, sweet girl. There’s no need to rush.” You believed him wholeheartedly, but in the past weeks, you had found yourself wanting more. Sure, you were still frightened, you didn’t know what you were doing, but that burn and ache inside of you kept getting more intense as the days went by. You know that Din would take care of you. 

It’s been a rough day, and that’s an understatement. You helped with the bounty this time because the information you were given indicated that this quarry was heavily guarded. Mando couldn’t say no to an extra blaster covering his ass. Thankfully, this mission was on Tatooine, meaning that you could leave the little one with Peli. Maker knows that woman loves your little green bean; how could she not? Green bean loves her right back and seems to be particularly fond of the pit droids. You think it has something to do with the fact that he can bonk their noses to make them spring to life, but you can’t be sure. 

Unfortunately, it turns out that this asshole was much more protected than you had been led to believe. You would have some choice words for Greef Karga to pass along to whoever had commissioned this kriffing bounty. You both had more or less emerged unscathed, but there would most certainly be bruises covering you two from head to toe. 

Once the bounty was frozen away in carbonite, you could breathe a little better. He wouldn’t be giving you any trouble now. When Peli saw that state you were in, she insisted that she keep the little one for the night, which was a relief. As much as you loved that sweet little boy, you needed a breather. Hopefully, you’d be able to spend some much needed time with just you and your Mandalorian. 

You found yourself on Din’s lap with a blindfold covering your eyes so he could kiss you. You would rather not see anything at all and have his lips on yours than have your sight with his helmet on. You both were in your underclothes, your legs straddling him. 

That’s when the kisses began. There was something about kissing Din Djarin that was otherworldly. The way he poured all his love and care into a kiss never ceases to blow you away. He always started so gently, building you up and setting you on fire. How could anything be that good, that pleasurable? He licked into your mouth, moaning at your taste. Your Mandalorian loved to kiss you. He nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp, pleasure shooting straight down to your core. 

He moved his kisses to your jaw and down the column of your neck, leaving bruising in his wake. Din whispered in your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how good you tasted, how you were just for him. The thought that you were his, that this fearsome warrior had opened himself up enough to let you in, it urged you forward. 

You began to rock back and forth on his thigh, chasing that feeling of bliss. He stopped you for a moment, helping you wiggle out of your panties, before urging you to start once more. This felt even better, your slick dripping out onto his thigh, helping you create beautiful friction. By the sounds he was making, Din was enjoying it, too. The feeling of his muscles hard beneath you, your clit rubbing deliciously against him, was heavenly. You could feel the sparks in your tummy, the clench of your cunt around nothing; you were so close. 

Din urged you on, his hands at your hips, moving you. He muttered about how gorgeous you were as you took your pleasure on his thigh, how he wanted to see you cum on him, how he wanted to taste your sweet pussy after you came. His words were what finally did you in, the dam bursting and your orgasm hitting you full force. Your hips began to stutter, but your Mandalorian kept you moving, riding the waves of pleasure, extending your bliss. Finally, your whines led him to stop; you were far too sensitive to continue. You panted, trying to catch your breath. 

As you sat there, your head on Din’s shoulder, centering yourself once more, you realized what exactly was pressing against your thigh. You could feel his rock hard, dripping cock, just within reach. The thought of it made your pussy clench and your mouth water. You wanted Din Djarin, all of him, in every way possible. You wanted to feel him inside of you, wrecking you and making you see stars. 

“Din,” you murmured, “I want you.” 

He nuzzled his nose into your hair, breathing you in. “You have me, Mesh’la, any way you want me.”

You sat up straight on his lap, facing him. If you didn’t have a blindfold on, you’re sure you’d be looking him directly in the eye. “No, I want you. I want you inside of me; I want your cock, Din.” 

Your Mandalorian groaned at your admission. There was nothing he wanted more. He took in the earnest expression on your face, looking for any sign of hesitance or anxiety. He never wanted you to feel pressured into doing anything that you didn’t want to do. He didn’t want you to feel as if you needed to do something to please him. He wanted you to explore sex at your own pace, never another’s. 

“Cyare, are you sure? There is no rush for us. My satisfaction comes from the fact that I can satisfy you and that you trust me enough to allow me to be the first to touch you in this way. There is no timetable besides your wants, needs, and desires, mesh’la. I don’t want you to pressure yourself.” 

You smiled at his words, his voice so soft and sweet for you. He was always so considerate, never rushing you or telling you that you were going too slowly. The kindness and care this great warrior continuously showed you reminded you of this complicated man’s duality. You felt safe with him, and you wanted all of him. 

“Din, baby, no, I don’t feel pressured. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now. I want to feel you inside of me; I want you to make love to me, please.” 

He cradled your face in his palms for a moment, his thumbs gliding over your cheeks. Then, he kissed you. It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was full of passion, sinking you deeper into arousal. He kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that he loved, and maybe he did. Perhaps you and the kid were his whole heart. His tongue expertly explored your mouth, causing you to mewl and moan. He knew just what would get you going. 

He pulled away, sucking in precious oxygen as you did the same. Carefully, he turned the both of you around and laid you down on his cot. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the galaxy, not by a long shot. It was designed more for efficiency than comfort. The thing was, though, you didn’t care. It was Din’s, and he was willing to share it with you. You could feel him hovering over you, his breath warm against your face. 

“Let me taste you, sweet girl. Let me get you ready to take my cock.”

You gasped, feeling his cock rock back and forth, covering himself in your slick. You were at a loss for words, so many sensations happening all at once. All you could manage was a nod, and a whimpered, “Please, Din.” 

Your Mandalorian kissed his way down your body, leaving behind bite marks and bruises where he wanted to cause heightened sensations. Before he even made it to your pussy, you were already painfully wet for him. You could feel his breath ghosting over the place where you wanted him the most. You lifted your hips in an attempt to spur him on, but all it got you was a muscular arm forcing your hips back down to the cot. 

“Patience, cyar’ika, I want you to feel every ounce of pleasure that I can wring out of you. Enjoy the moment, feel the suspense, don’t simply rush to the finish line, little one.” 

You yelped as you felt him bite into the juncture of your hip and thigh, sucking in hard to leave a mark. He soothed the skin with his tongue, so close to where you needed him, but not close enough. He repeated the process on the other side, marking you in a place only the two of you would ever see, like a secret that you both would share. 

Unexpectedly, his tongue licked a broad stripe from the bottom of your slit to your clit. You sighed; that was the feeling you so desperately wanted. He lapped at your cunt like a man starved, and you were the best thing on the menu. He knew how to work you into a frenzy, and quickly, he played your body like an instrument that he had been practicing on for a lifetime. You quaked and shook as your second orgasm of the night took hold, bursting and pulling you ever forward into the bliss you so desperately craved. 

Even after you had ridden out your orgasm, Din didn’t stop. He worked you over, inserting one finger and then another inside of you, hitting that one spot inside you that made you see stars over and over. His mouth never stopped, his tongue lazily drawing loose circles around your clit, never slowing down, but keeping a steady pace. Your hips fought to lift off the cot, simultaneously fighting and chasing that feeling of ecstasy. When he scissored his fingers inside of you and twisted his wrist just so, you lost it once more. A scream that sounded something like his name tore out of your throat as the stars exploded behind your eyes. 

You felt like you were floating in space, freely and without a care in the world. You reached a new height of pleasure that you’d never even imagined before. You could touch the sky and would never ever come down. You thought every encounter with your Mandalorian was pure rapture, but this was beyond anything you had ever felt before. You were panting, gasping for the oxygen your body so desperately needed, and you felt better than you ever had before. As your head left the clouds, you realized you had a dopey smile on your face, and your lover was covering you with kisses everywhere he could reach. 

Vaguely, you heard his whispers in the dark. You were so good for me, mesh’la. You looked so beautiful cumming on my fingers and tongue. You taste divine, starshine. Those words went straight to your heart and to your pussy, flooding you with more arousal than you had ever thought possible. A deep kiss on your lips finally brought you back to the present, the warm body on top of you centering your mind. 

“Are you ready for my cock, sweet girl? Do you still want to feel me inside of you? I promise I’ll go slow.”

You nodded in response, your words failing you. 

“I need to hear you say it, cyare. I need to hear you tell me that you want this, that you’re sure.” 

Your head lolled a bit as you processed his words, still feeling slightly hazy. 

“Din Djarin, I want you inside of me. Please, please, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.”

He chuckled at your pleas, a smile pressed into the crook of your neck. 

“I’ll be most delighted to give you what you want, sweet girl. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Are you ready for me?”

You breathed out a yes as you felt him coat himself in your slick, making sure he could ease into you. You knew he was quite large. You had curiously wondered aloud one day if all men were built like that. Even though his size intimidated you, you wanted everything he could give you. The excitement fizzled in your belly; you were getting wetter by the second. 

Ever so slowly, your Mandalorian lined himself up with you and began to press in. You gasped at the feeling of just the head of his cock inside of you, the blunt tip spearing into you. He paused before he began to move again. Slowly, inch by inch, he pressed himself into you, stopping ever so often to make sure that you had time to adjust to him. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the girls in your hometown had made it seem. Maybe they hadn’t been with the proper lovers, or perhaps the boys they were sleeping with were just inexperienced and too young. All you knew was that there was a pinch of pain, yes, but the pleasure outweighed any discomfort you may have felt. 

You could feel every delicious inch of him inside you, splitting you open and filling you up like nothing ever had before. You could feel every ridge and vein as he inched his way into you. You couldn’t even put a name to this feeling, but you wanted more. Eventually, he was fully seated inside of you; your hips flush against his own. You felt so full, stuffed to the brim, and Maker, you loved it. He waited for a minute or two, allowing you to adjust to him and have a chance to take in all these new sensations. You had thought his fingers were terrific, but they were nothing compared to the feel of his cock deep inside of you. 

He kissed you. It was all teeth, tongue, and lips, and stars; it was perfect. He devoured your mouth, taking what was his. You couldn’t help the little sounds that sprung up from your throat when he did that. He answered you with guttural groans of his own. You could feel the way those sounds made his chest rumble; you could feel it in your chest pressed against him. 

He grabbed your leg, propping it up on his hip, and he began to move. He never went too fast for you or too hard, keeping a steady pace that kept you comfortable but still dragged you forward to a fourth orgasm. You didn’t even know you had it in you until Din used two of his fingers to assault your clit, encouraging that bundle of nerves to give you one more burst of pleasure. The combination of his cock deep inside you and his fingers on your clit was enough to send you toppling over the edge once more. This orgasm was more intense than the others, blazing white-hot through your veins and setting your soul on fire. If you thought you had been screaming before, you were mistaken. You writhed and squirmed under your lover, your pleasure causing your body to shake like a leaf. You sobbed his name over and over, tears spilling out of your eyes from sheer ecstasy. 

Your Mandalorian groaned deeply at the feel of your pussy clamping down on him like a vice. You were so tight, to begin with, and your orgasm grabbed him and shoved him into his orgasm. As he emptied himself deep within you, he couldn’t help but mumble praises. “Oh Mesh’la, you’re so tight for me, so beautiful laid bare just for me. You’re such a good girl, a sweet girl, my girl. I’ll give you whatever you want, baby. Adventure, new experiences, my love- fuck if you want it, I’ll give you warriors, children of our own.” 

You both laid there for a while afterward, basking in the glow of post-sex haze. You carded your fingers through his curls, gently scratching his scalp as he pressed sweet kisses into your skin. He was still inside you; neither of you could bear the thought of being parted just yet. You could stay like this forever, caught in this in-between time, not yet floating back into reality. 

“I would like that,” you murmured, never stopping your movements in his hair. 

“Like what, cyare?” 

“For you to give me warriors of our own, Din.”

You could feel him twitch inside you, clearly interested. His head shot up, studying yours closely, looking for any falsehood or hesitance in your blindfolded face. 

“You mean it?” He breathed out. 

You grinned, feeling around for his face. You traced his sharp jawline, the proud cure of his nose, the pout of his plump lips. This was the face of the man you loved, the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Wherever he was in the Galaxy, that was home. 

“Yes, my love, I mean it. We have our little green bean, and eventually, he’s going to need some friends to play with. We wouldn’t want him to be lonely. And besides, there’s no one I’d rather raise warriors with than you.”

You heard a faint sniffle before his lips were on yours once more. You had a family, but there was always room to add more to this clan of three. 

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x fem!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x female reader #the madalorian fic #din djarin fic #star wars fic #requested #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fic

[wing-ed-thing]

Group Project (Shino x Reader x Kisame x Temari)

Request: 

Word Count: 2,282

Tags/Warnings: Language, Alcohol Mention, Gender Neutral Reader @brokennerdalert​ @narahanabi​

Notes: I have never written for Temari before. I think I got her spot on tho. This was actually too fun to write. Enjoy, y’all.

The only time that worked for everyone was 10 o’clock. Which, by the way, sucked ass. At least, that was what Kisame said in the groupchat just ten minutes before you dragged yourself out of your dorm and into the rain. You trudged through the puddles, holding your jacket closed over your body to protect your backpack-encased laptop. Shino had a night lab. The earlier he finished his work the earlier he could leave. Temari had been insistent about that. She had some sort of circle and you remembered Kisame asking her why she couldn’t just skip for the week only to be met with a passive aggressive response. And Kisame himself had hockey practice. Even the sports houses were off campus, only impeding your scheduling efforts.

When you got to the longue, Temari had already set up all of her belongings. She sat herself in a cluster of four shallow armchairs and spread out a flurry of papers on the long coffee table. With the packed schedule that she threw into the chat, you wondered how she got there so quickly. Temari looked up at you with one long, slender brow raised.

“Oh good, at least you’re here.” Unsure, really, of what to make of her backhanded compliment, you sat down in the chair across from her and wordlessly unpacked your laptop.

You never liked general classes. At the end of the day, you worked on a few big, group projects, ultimately learned nothing, and your grade depended on the work ethic of others. You glanced over at Temari. She likely didn’t even have the same major as you. Granted, that was probably the point of the class, but nonetheless, it weighed on your already drooping eyes knowing that you’d have to pour so many late night hours into a project that would amount to nothing.

You pulled up your school account and sifted through your notifications.

“I signed us up for a research question. I thought that censorship in the classroom was an easy and relevant one. I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to get into the intricacies of drones at this time of day.” You couldn’t help but nod. Temari sure pounced on top of things quickly and for that, you were thankful to have received an easy prompt.

“Sounds great,” you mused and the heavy door from the outside to the longue slammed shut. You glanced over your shoulder to find Kisame, still in athletic clothes grinning as he approached.

“Well this is bullshit, isn’t it?” Those were the first words to come out of his mouth and you could practically hear Temari groan in exasperation. Kisame plopped down in the armchair beside you, offering you a wink as he did. “What kinda professor assigns a project on Tuesday only for it to be due Thursday? Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

You averted your eyes back to your screen, pretending to sort through your notifications. You hummed in response, too easily flustered and too tired to process. Temari’s fingers flexed over her own keyboard.

“It’s the beginning of the semester. It’s to test out organizational skills and teamwork,” she managed through half-gritted teeth. You looked between your two teammates, wondering what exactly happened between them that made them so hostile to each other. You made a mental note to not get in the way of whatever that was. Kisame scoffed, sitting back in the arm chair and reaching for his own computer.

“I don’t really care what it is and why it is. What I care about is that I’m wasting my Wednesday night…”

“Ah, yes, Wednesday night,” Temari repeated mockingly, “Because I know that I like getting plastered in the middle of the week.” Kisame leaned towards you on his left arm cushion.

“Soy Sauce over there is just sore that her brother picked a fight with one of my boys and lost. Sasori’s a short guy too, you should link with us sometime.” You heard Temari scoff.

“Yeah, like Kankuro would lose to any of the thugs you hang around—”

“Who are you calling a thug?” Temari met Kisame’s pointed glare. Even so, he sank farther into his seat, lifting one ankle to rest on his knee. “Though, I think it says something that you knew exactly what I was talking about—” He punctuated every word with a smug swing of his head before Shino walked in.

“Nice to see that things are lively in here.” He made his way across the lounge before plopping down next to Temari. A white piece of cloth hung out from his backpack, something that Temari didn’t miss as Shino prepared his materials.

“That’s a hazard.” She bit the inside of her lip.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s been grumpy since before you came here,” Kisame quickly explained, much to Temari’s disdain.

Looking across from you, you almost wished that you had just been paired up with Shino. You didn’t know him that well, but he seemed smart, capable and overall, quiet. Temari had drive, but her approach felt intense. Meanwhile, Kisame seemed like he couldn’t care less about the project. Or perhaps, it was more that he couldn’t care less about Temari.

“So the paper,” you began out of sheer nervousness. “And the presentation…” The three sets of eyes turned to you. You glanced at the clock. You had already wasted more than a half hour.

“Let’s be real here, a five page research paper is nothing,” Temari said, also crossing her legs. “It’s the presentation that we should worry about.” Kisame let out a breath.

“Well, here I was about to say the opposite.” He turned his neck to the side and you heard a few audible cracks. “What about we split it up if the paper is so easy for you?”

“I’m not just doing the paper by myself. Besides, I’d need to find sources and by the time I’ve found sources and written everything up, I’ll have done most of the work.” Temari wrinkled her nose at your partner next to you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what you were banking on.”

“Here.” Shino’s low voice broke through the room. With one exaggerated click on his keyboard he looked up at the three of you. “I just put a list of sources in the shared doc. There’s ten of them which should be more than enough. I pulled a few articles and a few academic papers which should meet the criteria from the rubric.”

Temari blinked down at her computer, furiously switching tabs. Her lips formed a round ‘o’ shape.

“Nice work, Shino,” you praised only to receive a shy nod. “I think if we take an anti-censorship stance, it’ll make out work easier given the time that we have to finish. Maybe Temari, you can start the paper and I can start the slides.”

“I can help you with that,” Kisame offered and you typed his email into the share box.

“I’ll help Temari with the paper,” Shino said with another nod.

“Start with the counterarguments. I’ll work from the top, you work from the bottom.” Temari gestured widely to Shino’s screen and you let out a relieved sigh. Maybe you’ll be able to get all of this done after all.

Time flew during the late hours of the night. You didn’t know what it was about the nighttime that made time feel quicker than usual. Soon enough, the clock struck one. Temari plucked ferociously at her laptop and it surprised you that Kisame hadn’t asked her what she was punishing her keyboard for. Shino, on the other hand, liked to stand. About an hour ago, he had stood up from his seat, and with one foot on the low level of the coffee table, kept at writing his part of the paper. Temari and Shino didn’t speak much. Rather, their side of the table mostly sounded of clicking.

Meanwhile, you and Kisame were having a great time. He made you laugh much to Temari’s annoyance, but knowing that you were getting your parts done, she didn’t comment. Despite his outward physique, Kisame had a sense of style when it came to design and organization. You flew through fonts and images quickly and by the time you had cleared the first few slides, even you were impressed by how professional it looked. The clock read two o’clock.

“This was your conclusion, right?” You turned your screen in your hands to face Temari. She squinted over and her eyes lit up.

“Actually, that’s a way better wording. Imma just steal that…” She clicked some more. “That’s some great work.”

“It was actually all Kisame.” And to your surprise, he didn’t gloat. Instead, he remained eerily focused. Temari glanced at him before glancing away.

“Like I said, great work…” she muttered.

“We’re almost done with the slides,” you announced, “Do you guys need help with the paper?” Shino shook his head. You found that he preferred non-verbal answers.

“We’re wrapping up over here, too,” Temari answered.

“Good, because I’m fuckin’ starving.”

And with the one mention of food, you all looked up at each other.

***

There was only one place open this late at night and it was one block away from campus. Fast Food, of course, but no one in your group complained. The dining halls were closed and most of you didn’t keep your rolling pantries stocked with anything worth eating at two in the morning, so you packed up your things.

It felt odd walking down the road with this group of people. You chattered amongst yourselves about anything other than your assignment.

“Me? I’m a biology major. I want to study beetles but I have to get my undergrad before I can do anything really specific.” By far, Shino had to be the most interesting of you all. You made your way off of campus, the restaurant in your sight. And as the walk continued, so did your conversation.

“I’ve wanted to try the new place that they opened up by admissions but they’re always closed when I try to go.” Temari pouted and you crossed the street together. You wondered if spending four straight hours having to communicate with any three people could make talking to them this easy.

“Marine biology?” You stared up at Kisame. “I don’t think I would have guessed.” He let out a hearty laugh that sent a few birds flying.

“Oh yeah, they have us go out of labs for the whole day. And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. I’ve always loved the ocean, but I think I’d have to transfer if I had to wake up at seven and come back at eight for more than one day a week.” Kisame reached for the handle, only for it not to budge in his grip. He tried again.

“Are they closed?” you asked, getting slightly agitated at the prospect.

“No.” Shino cupped his hands around his eyes as he stared through the window. “Wet floor signs are out. This must be the time that they clean the dining room.” Shino hardly had to finish his sentence before Kisame was already on his way to the drive thru.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Temari yelled after him as she jogged to catch up. “You can’t just walk through the drive thru.”

“Sure you can.” Kisame stood directly in front of the speaker with his hands in his pockets. “There are no cars around and even if there were, they’d have to take our order to get us out of the way… Hello?” The speaker crackled and Kisame shot a pointed look at the rest of you before moting for you to come closer to order.

“What can I get you?” the apathetic worker droned.

“Can I get a number nine?” Kisame started.

“Oh me too,” you whispered to him, not entirely sure why you spoke with such a hushed tone. He crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Make that two number nines? One large—” He stepped back to let Temari come up to the speaker.

“May I please get a number six with extra sauce, please? And, uh, a number seven too, please.” Like Kisame before her, Temari stepped to allow Shino to talk.

“Two number forty-fives, one with cheese and a large soda.”

With nowhere else to sit, you claimed a spot in the empty parking lot. Temari ended up paying. You put up a fight, but she insisted. You were secretly convinced that she was loaded anyway.

“You two got a lot of food.” Kisame handed you your fillet burger. Temari hummed, taking one of her backs and folded it behind her.

“One’s for my boyfriend,” she said, and before Kisame could get out a snarky comment about how Temari could ever land a boyfriend, Shino answered,

“I just usually eat all at once. Can’t usually grab dinner while doing night labs.” You all grimaced to yourselves. You knew the feeling of skipping meals because of your schedules.

You looked out at the city. Your school sat on a hill just outside of the twinkling lights. You found comfort in the blinking that came from below and your surroundings made the atmosphere feel completely still.

“You know, if we have a choice, we should just stick together for the rest of the semester.” Shino’s monotone voice cut through the air. You turned to the rest of them. Temari shrugged.

“It’s less of a gamble since we know each other, I suppose. I know that most of you won’t mess up our assignments…” You and Kisame nodded along, both stuffing your faces with french fries.

The decision was unanimous.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: 

Shino’s lab coat was in with his regular supplies which is technically a hazard when working in chem and bio labs since lab coats should be sealed. 

Not all fast-food places well take your order without a car, but if you block the line they’ll give in (that’s what I did). Don’t blame me if you get arrested for doing that though. 

"I'll have two number 9s, a number 9 large, a number 6 with extra dip, a number 7, two number 45s, one with cheese, and a large soda."– Melvin "Big Smoke" Harris

#kisame x reader #shino x reader #temari x reader #kisame #shino #temari #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto scenarios #naruto scenario #x you #x reader #reader insert #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #college au

[missmonsters2]

Taste of Candy

Requester: @thatgirlwholikesgirls 💘

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/OFC

Prompt: Kiss me again, like you mean it.

Note: You heard the girl, kiss wanda again like u fuckin mean it. God, I kind of want to do a series for this? Like in full detail of their adventures. (Also dw bby i have your other request in the queue too)

Warnings: screaming? Fangirling? Crying?

Genre: Fluff

Count: 3438

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It starts with an umbrella and sour cola candies.

If there's one thing that Wanda can say with certainty is that she hates the small town she lives in. She hates her conservative parents, who are both lawyers. She hates that they only expect her to win, and if she isn't winning, then she isn't anything.

So, she was the student council president, the cheer captain, and they're naming her prom queen right now in her senior year.

She's got the hottest and most popular guy as her boyfriend and prom king, and even though he's a kind of an annoying know-it-all, he likes her.

It's supposed to be the best night of her life. This was supposed to be everything she wanted. Her parents were proud of Wanda because, after this, she's supposed to get married to Vision and be a housewife like her mom.

That's supposed to be her happily ever after.

So, why is it that while prom is ending, she's sitting outside on the bleachers in the rain crying?

And when she feels the rain stop pelting her on the head, she looks up. It’s you.

She’s never talked to you during all the entire years of high school because you’re not popular.

You’re not unpopular, either, but she can’t be friends with people who aren’t popular. People say you’re kind of weird as you don’t conform to any social norms or expectations, but you’re nice and smart, always willing to let people copy your homework, so they don’t bully you either. 

And you’re always eating sour cola candies.

You’re standing with her on the bleachers, coincidentally close enough that she’s under your umbrella. You’re not even looking at her as you offer her a bag of those sour fucking cola candies. 

Wanda can’t help but snort because it’s prom, and you’re not even wearing a prom dress. Just there in your ripped jeans, shirt, and a leather jacket.

“Get lost,” Wanda sneers in her mean popular girl voice because she doesn’t need you here while she’s fucking having a breakdown. 

But all she gets is a yawn as you sit down next to her, making sure she’s under your umbrella as you shove the bag of candy more obnoxiously towards her. 

Unsure what else to really do, Wanda reaches in the bag and pulls out a piece of candy, putting it in her mouth. 

It’s way too sweet, Wanda thinks. The first bite makes her jaw tingle as saliva rushes to her mouth due to the sourness.

But she likes the sweet aftertaste when all the sourness is gone. 

And for the moment, she’s not crying. 

The two of you sit in silence, watching the empty field as it continues to rain. 

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m out here and crying?” Wanda asks, not looking at you still. After all, she’s the most popular girl in high school, wouldn’t this be the most amazing news to spread.

“No,” you quietly reply, popping another candy in your mouth. Wanda thinks your voice is soft, not at all how she thought you’d sound (which is gruff for how you look). 

“Why? Aren’t you curious about why the student council president, cheer captain, and prom queen is out here crying on what’s supposed to be the best night of her life?”

You hum, “Don’t care.”

Wanda’s jaw drops a little. 

“Well--what--why are you here then?” Wanda demands as she half-sputters in disbelief. 

Wanda watches as you lull your head side-to-side and can’t help but agree with people you’re weird. 

“Well, you were crying, and you were getting wet. I have an umbrella, and I have candy. You’re under my umbrella, so you’re not getting wet anymore. You ate a piece of candy, and you stopped crying. So, your reason doesn’t really matter anymore,” you reason with her, but that doesn’t really explain to Wanda why, but she suspects that within your answer, you really meant to say there was no particular reason. You saw she was crying and getting soaked, and you had the means to stop it. So, you did.

“But,” you continue, dragging Wanda out of her thoughts, “I have other things to do that I can’t put off anymore, so...”

Wanda sighs, not expecting the slight disappointment that you had to go. She’s not even sure she understands this entire interaction. 

But suddenly, you’re shoving your umbrella in her hand, dumping the candy in her lap, before you take off your leather jacket and putting it around her shoulders. You get out into the rain, letting yourself get soaked. 

And for a moment, Wanda has a passing thought that you’re beautiful.

“That’s my favorite candy and last bag, so stop crying,” you tell her, but then pause.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t cry in the rain,” you finally say as if to soften your command of her to stop her tears.

And then you’re gone.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Prom ends without any further incidents, and after drying herself off in the washroom, she goes back to her friends who didn’t even notice she was missing, and her boyfriend, who only had a mild concern about the leather jacket and candy she brought back.

Wanda can’t explain why she didn’t share one piece of candy with anyone who asked.

And then school starts again, and she sees you in the halls, but you don’t even look at her.

It’s like you don’t even remember being out in the bleachers with her while she cried.

And somehow, with everything else in her life, it makes her feel worse. Graduation day comes, and Wanda can’t help but feel like the end of her life is coming closer.

She’s valedictorian, and she’s giving her speech, looking in the crowd only to realize you didn’t even fucking show up to graduation. 

Wanda has her diploma in hand, her parents take two photos with her before they flitter off to network with other people. Her boyfriend is fooling around with his friends as they take pictures and throw their football around for one last time.

And Wanda...Wanda just feels like the world is closing up on her as she stands there frozen.

But then a bag of sour cola candies comes into her view. Stunned, she looks past the bag to see you again. 

Perhaps because Wanda stands there too long without doing anything, you end up taking her empty hand out, dumping a couple candies into it. Without saying anything else, you turn to leave.

“Wait--” Wanda softly calls out, and you turn back with a brow raised.

“I’m not giving you the whole bag this time,” you frown slightly.

Wanda ignores the comment, even the little sting that you won’t give her the entire bag like last time, but maybe there are rules to getting an entire candy bag from you.

“Why are you here? You didn’t show up to walk the stage,” Wanda asks instead. She’s not even sure what she wanted to ask in the first place when said asked you to wait.

“I’m not interested in walking the stage, but I want my diploma,” you say, waving the piece of paper slightly around to show Wanda in your other hand.

“Why?” Wanda emphasizes because everyone else doesn’t care about a stupid flimsy piece of paper that said they’ve graduated from high school. They just want to walk the stage in front of their peers. 

You tilt your head, holding it up better for Wanda to see.

“The font is hilariously terrible. I wanted a copy to remember.”

The reason is so stupid, Wanda thinks, but she can’t help the chortle that comes out because it’s true, the font is awful.

Wanda finds you staring at her and clears her throat from the laughter. 

“So?” Wanda asks, “Now what for you?” 

You lick your lips, an action that Wanda thinks she was entirely too fixated on, and then nod your head outside the arena. It’s a clear sign for Wanda to follow you.

At first, she hesitates because she really shouldn’t leave the arena when her parents are bound to come back soon. But then you shake your bag of candies like you’re fucking trying to lure her out with you and Wanda makes the split decision to go.

She goes outside and sees your car out in the front. A well-kept convertible Mercedes Benz that you didn’t have before. 

“Nice car, how’d you get it?” Wanda asks, inspecting the rest of the car and finds a suitcase in the back.

“I won it in a street race,” you say so offhandedly even though Wanda whips her head towards you. You don’t offer any other explanation, though.

“What--when did you even--” Wanda doesn’t even know what to ask. Should she ask why you were street racing? Where? How did you even know?

“Prom,” is all you offer, and Wanda is in disbelief you left her because you were going to go street race.

“Okay,” Wanda breathes, “So, where are you going?” 

She saw the suitcase. 

So, you’re getting out of this shitty small town, and Wanda can’t help the stab of envy that comes.

Maybe it’s a university far away that you’re going to. University that Wanda didn’t even get a chance to apply to.

Because she has to go back.

Wanda’s going to get married and then follow the footsteps of her mother.

“Anywhere,” you say, looking at Wanda seriously. 

“You don’t have a plan?” Wanda can’t help the shallow laughter. 

“Sometimes having no plan is the plan,” you say.

“That’s stupid,” Wanda says hollowly.

“It’s better than following a plan you don’t want,” You comment, and Wanda whips her head to look at you.

“Excuse me?” The mean popular girl tone comes out.

“What now for you?” You ask, ignoring Wanda. 

Wanda doesn’t answer because everyone in this stupid small town knows what her plan is. 

And she wants to scream. 

“Come with me.”

The words hit Wanda like a freight train, and she’s staring at you as if you sprouted three heads.

“What--no, why would I--”

“You know, for the 4 years I’ve known you, all you’ve ever shown was that you were the top of the hierarchy gunning for prom queen like it was the only thing that existed in the world. And then the night you were crowned, you were crying on the bleachers. Now you’re here, graduating, and you look like you’re going to vomit.”

Wanda flares because she’s well aware of that night. Like something ugly spilled over and now won’t stop spilling.

“What would you know--” 

“It’s okay to want more than what’s planned for you.”

The words make Wanda breathless. 

Because maybe that’s the deep-rooted secret Wanda has been carrying underneath the perfect girl her parents groomed her to be.

But...

“I can’t,” Wanda’s voice cracks. 

Because this is all she’s ever known is everything that’s in front of her. How could she turn back, abandoned everything she’s done so far to get here? Her parents would never speak to her again. 

And so, Wanda turns around and goes back into the stadium, leaving behind a possibility of what could’ve been.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

That night, Wanda’s family hosts a dinner with Vision and his parents. Everyone’s laughing and enjoying themselves. Her brother is joking around with Vision, and their moms are already talking about wedding plans.

It’s just so overwhelming. 

They’re talking about coral flowers, white tablecloths, and being in a church.

They talk about Vision going to Harvard and taking over his father’s company. They talk about how Wanda’s going to have the cutest children, and it’s making her stomach churn.

She feigns sickness and excuses herself for the rest of the night to go to her room. 

It’s probably hours that pass, and the house is dead silent, signaling everyone has gone to bed.

She lays in the dark, facing the ceiling with her hands folded gently together over her stomach. 

And then she hears something hit her window gently.

Tap tap

Wanda gets up, walking over to the window and looks out confused. She sees you standing there, convertible parked out in the front, and throw pebbles at her window.

She opens it and hisses, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Wanda already said no to you. Why would you come again?

“I came to get my leather jacket,” you say, blinking. 

And it occurs to Wanda she never gave back your jacket from the night in the rain. 

She huffs, stalking back in to grab the clothing before appearing again at the window and throwing it down to you.

You catch it with ease and look back up at her.

“Wanda,” you call softly, garnering her attention, “come with me.”

She frowns.

But instead of no, she asks, “Why?”

And it’s quiet, and Wanda thinks it was dumb to ask because there’s no reason she needs to go and leave the life she has now.

“Wanda, you’re always going to be more than this small town. You don’t belong here.”

And Wanda left breathless again by you. It’s like the words ring in her ear and make it to her heart because maybe that’s what she wanted someone to confirm all along.

Of course, she wants more, but is she enough for more?

And then you pull out a bag of candy from your jacket pocket and offer it to her. 

And suddenly, Wanda turns back into her room, grabbing her small suitcase and shoving in all her clothes and belongings she’ll need. She pulls all the cash she has and her passport and then sneaks out the front door. 

It’s insane, she thinks as you take her suitcase and throw it in the back. 

It’s doesn’t make any sense at all as she gets into the car with you, someone she’s never really even spoken to, and watches her house get smaller in the side mirror. 

It’s a little scary, and she’s worried that her family will absolutely lose their shit.

But she doesn’t know how to explain the absolute fucking euphoria that’s spreading through her when she sees the sign they’re leaving their small town.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Months pass. 

Her parents did immediately freak out when she was gone. All she had sent was a simple text to Pietro that was she doesn’t want to get married to Vision and become a housewife. She wants more. 

And her parents won’t even talk to her and don’t want her to come home anymore, and while it had gutted her and took her months to get over, she was still happier out here.

Wanda feels the wind in her hair, a feeling she thinks she can’t live without now and looks over to you subtly. 

You’ve got your sunglasses on and playing the same song the two of you have been listening to for weeks now, and she thinks back to everything.

You’ve taken her to so many places now. 

She’s been to Washington to California, Arizona to Texas, Florida to New York, and now they’re on their way to the airport to go live in Hawaii for a little while. 

When going state to state, the two of you always picked up jobs here and there, saving up cash for your next trip, and Wanda’s just never felt so free.

She’s never laughed like she has now, sang like does in the morning, joke around with anyone like she does with you. 

Wanda’s not sure what any of it means. 

But sometimes, she’ll put her hand on the shift stick and likes when you place your hand over hers.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

They’ve been in Hawaii for 2 weeks now, and Wanda thinks she likes Hawaii the best out of all the places they’ve traveled to.

It’s a wonderful vacation spot, and she loves living on the beach every day. 

The two of you are working at a hotel, and Wanda managed to get off earlier than you. Tonight, they’re hosting a luau and Wanda’s sitting on the beach again with a paper and pen.

She’s been working on her admission letter to Princeton with your encouragement. 

“Hey,” Wanda hears and looks up to see you in one of those ugly Hawaiian shirts that you claim will be all the rage in a few years.

You take a seat right next to Wanda, your shoulder bumping gently as you sit down, and hand her a drink in a pineapple cup.

Wanda hums happily, seeing the tiny umbrella and takes a sip from the straw. 

“How’s your admission letter going?” You ask with your sour cola candy bag. 

Wanda doesn’t understand how you can eat them so often. She really stopped having them after that night you whisked her away in your car. Wanda doesn’t like the sour part even if she likes the sweet aftertaste.

“Going,” Wanda sighs. There’s so much she can write about, but it just seems like word vomit on paper at this point.

“You’re doing wonderfully, it’ll be amazing,” you reassure her with an ease that makes Wanda’s heart flutter. She doesn’t understand how you always seem to say the words she wants to hear. 

Wanda sets the paper down, holding it down with a pile of sand on top as she resigns to just enjoy the rest of the night with you. 

The breeze feels good against her skin, and she loves hearing the sounds of the waves against the shore. 

She’s sipping her drink and leaning her head on your shoulder as she listens to the music of the luau in the background. 

Suddenly, she feels you fiddling something in her hair. Her hand comes up to feel a flower resting against her ear. She pulls out her phone to see a red and yellow hibiscus in her hair. You’re looking to the side as you chew on your candies, and Wanda smiles.

“Where’d you get it?” Wanda asks, resuming lying on your shoulder.

“I saw it in Mr. Kahale’s backyard. I thought it would look pretty on you, so I asked him for one,” You explain as you look back at her.

“And he gave you one?” Wanda asked in a surprised tone. Mr. Kahale was known for being stingy with his flowers.

“No, so then I took it when he wasn’t looking,” you grin as Wanda slaps your arm with a laugh.

“He’s going to notice, you know,” Wanda tells you, and you shrug.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me like the last 7 times.”

And suddenly, Wanda feels a wet drop on her cheek. It starts to drizzle, not enough to cancel the luau, but she can see people in the distance, making their way back to find shelter.

She hasn’t been in the rain since the night on the bleachers. Wanda straightens herself and looks up at the rain. 

“This sure brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Wanda laughs a little, and she sees you looking up as well, the finished bag of candy forgotten. 

“You must’ve thought I was crazy crying out in the bleachers,” Wanda comments offhandedly.

“Not at all,” You say, looking over to Wanda, getting her to look at you too.

Wanda snorts. “Alright, what really made you come over to a girl crying in the rain.”

Even after all this time, Wanda still can’t believe you came over for the sake of coming over.

You sit up, brushing your hands to get the wet sand off.

“Same reason. Pretty girls shouldn’t cry in the rain,” you smile, and Wanda laughs again.

“Alright, what do pretty girls do in the rain?”

You lick your lips, and Wanda suddenly has that feeling she’s been often getting when she’s with you. 

“They get kissed,” you lean over and press your lips softly to Wanda. 

All Wanda can taste is the sour cola candies, but she’s getting the best part of it, the sweet aftertaste. It’s soft and quick. But it’s still better than any kiss she’s ever gotten from the boys she’s dated.

It makes her skin hum, and her stomach explodes with butterflies. It makes her sigh when you part from her.

Her head is swirling, and she opens her eyes to see yours staring back at her so seriously.

It’s too quick, Wanda decides. 

“Kiss me again,” she husks, “like you mean it.”

And when your lips descend on hers again, Wanda decides that she likes the candy as long as she can taste it like this.

And as long as Wanda gets her way, she’ll be the only pretty girl you’ll ever kiss again.

#mm: my fics #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x OFC #wanda maximoff #Wanda Maximoff Imagine #scarlet witch x reader #Scarlet Witch Imagine #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers reader insert #modern avengers au #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel au #genre: fluff #genre: soft angst

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/12/21

sometimes, one must retreat into a big pile of fictional settings. i didn’t do that this week but it’s the thought that counts

don’t want to keep up with the rest of my bullshit/want to be alerted specifically for tuesdayposts? follow @tuesday-again​ , where i will reblog each week’s post Once to archive it.

also i forgot to drop the 2021 tuesday again no problem playlist last week so here it is now if you want to follow along throughout the year

listening exoflash, by fever the ghost feat lealani. this is some dreamy-surreal alt electronica? alt electropop? i have significant hearing loss (TM) and so i think i am missing out on some of the melodies in the base bc i have lost that frequency range. like i can feel my headphones pulse but i can’t hear anything

do i know what the song is about? not a fuckin clue. do i like the mouthfeel of the lyrics? yes! rhyming intonation/incantation off each other charms me, bc i am a simple woman with simple tastes. there’s a very deliberate, enunciated delivery that i enjoy, again bc of the hearing loss. i do think some of the lyrics on genius are wrong (i hear “crown your enemies” in the first line instead of “prawn your enemies” for example) but i can’t really. back that up with anything

reading y2k is back babey- this popular mechanics article is a good quick read of why a common fix back in ye olde 1999 is failing again. everything is a teetering pile of precariously balanced quick fixes relying on legacy code. i myself worked in COBOL more times than i want to think about in my undergrad career, often alongside the octogenarian profs who had written it. pop mech’s oral history of y2k is also extremely good.

the thing i came here to talk about is this autostraddle article on making a go-bag. it is more of a personal essay than a list of practical tips, but it does not fearmonger. this is the point of mutual aid: it is important it is to make sure the people and community around you are more resilient. mutual aid is not just running a cool decentralized thrift store so you can declutter, although that can be very helpful in many communities. if you are all better prepared for various flavors of disasters, your neighborhood or community or circle will come out of it better.

i’ve lived in hurricane zones almost my entire life, and i’ve had a go bag my entire life. i can see mine right now from my bed, i think they’re important things to have, and i would be happy to answer questions privately via ask or dm. the infographic above from the city of seattle is pretty decent- yours will probably be region-specific. new year, new check on all your safety measures. make sure your smoke alarm batteries and carbon monoxide batteries and go-bag are all topped up. test your fire extinguisher while you’re at it.

watching i was going to watch the first few eps of the new arsene lupin show on netflix and write a charming little thing about my personal history with detective stories, and then i had a less than ideal weekend. so i am making less work for myself and linking a food crime. i hate layered pasta dishes with a burning passion but i want to taste this. just to see. their faces at the end are SO good. thank u ms el-waylly

playing one of the most exciting arcs of early january is my dear acquaintance @believerindaydreams becoming a fallout blog. now that i am relegated to an underpowered laptop while i wrangle getting my desktop fixed, i am back in new vegas bc it’s a ten-year-old game, it runs on fuckin anything. i had a truly bizarre configuration of mods on this thing we’ll see how well it plays with (checks notes) ignoring whatever the fuck i was doing in the main storyline and fucking around in Big MT.

making ending big things makes me anxious. and i am really nowhere near finishing this! i still have a lot of time left with it! at least an hour weaving in all the thread ends i didn’t bother with the first time around, some unknown dozens of hours backstitching various details and outlining the blue frame, and then the whole washing/pressing/framing rigamarole that (counting drying time) will take up a full day. i started this last summer, put it aside for weeks at a time, and it’s been with me in a very real way through a lot of bullshit.

part of the bad adhd brain is having difficulty forming and maintaining new routines- when i no longer have this to fall back on as part of my crafting routine i uhhhhh don’t really know what i’ll do. i don’t really have another Big Project lined up.

unlike knitting, where i find the act soothing and i knit as more of a process thing as opposed to an end-product thing, embroidery is very much a “i want the end product very badly” thing. and i can only have so much cross stitch displayed in my home. besides the smaller glitch version of this sampler, which is literally almost done and needs perhaps another hour of finishing before it gets washed/pressed/framed, i don’t have anything really on the docket. i want my own version of the “wretched hive” star wars sampler i made my sister, and i have a small pillow in the fun chromatic aberration font planned, but both of those have fewer complicated color changes and shifts and should stitch up fairly quickly.

i dunno. might go back to traditional embroidery for a bit- there’s an old project where i need to rip out a bunch of satin stitch and redo it in long-and-short BUT i also need to buy a whole bunch of new thread for that. might sew some more patches on my jacket for if i ever go outside again. i’m trying to get through the backlog of half-finished projects with shit i already have rather than ordering a bunch of shiny new things bc uhhh money.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

[chelsfic]

Might I request #23. “I’m bulletproof…but please, don’t shoot me.” with Coco Cruz?? Very happy to be following your hyperfixations and all iver cloenwer and I can't wait to see what comes next!

A/N: @joalsglasses​ Thank you for the Coco love! This helped me break out of my funk of not writing for a week. Hope you enjoy!

---

“Aw, shit…” Angel murmurs, trying to steer Coco away from the sight of you on another man’s arm. “It looks busy, let’s try someplace else--”

It’s too late, of course. Coco’s intense brown eyes focus on you as soon as he parks his bike in front of the diner. His girl...out with some preppy, whitebread-looking douchebag? He feels Angel’s restraining hand on his shoulder. He knows he should walk away. He knows this isn’t exactly fair after what he said to you...but he can’t stop himself. 

He jogs over and calls your name, watching you turn and visibly wilt as you see him approaching. It’s only been a week since your fight. When you finally got up the courage to demand that Coco get serious with your relationship. You’re grown. You have a kid. You don’t want to be Coco’s casual hook up forever. When he said no...it just about broke your damn heart. But you’re not one to sit around and pine. And Dan is nice! So what if he doesn’t make your heart race like Coco does…? At least he respects you enough to treat you like more than a booty call.

“Coco...,” you sigh with an edge of warning. “Almost didn’t recognize you in the light of day.”

He eyes Dan over your shoulder before leaning down into your space and whispering, “What the fuck, Y/N? What are you doing with this guy?”

You have to laugh. Seriously? After what he said about being “too busy” with club business to have a girlfriend? About you being a liability...a weakness that he’d always have to worry about protecting? Is he fucking kidding right now?

“Uh...what I’m doing is going out to brunch. On a date. Something civilized people do from time to time…,” you know you’re goading him, but you’re pissed. How can he think after everything he said that things would just go back to normal between you?

He looks at you with those big, brown eyes--liquid and soft with emotion and you can’t help but feel yourself melt inside, even if you keep your face set in a stony expression. How can this tough, hardened man be capable of such a gut wrenching puppy dog look?

“So, it’s like that, huh?” he says, his eyes finally darting away as he takes a step back. He looks gutted. 

“Coco, come on. This is...this is what you wanted,” you say, slipping into a pleading tone. You can feel Dan bristling behind you, unsure if he should intervene. You turn and wave him down. You guess this is probably going to be your one and only date with this guy. Great.

Coco forces a grin on his face as he backs away toward his bike, “Don’t worry about me, baby. I’m bulletproof.”

***

You’re not surprised that Dan doesn’t call. The run in with Coco...looking quite intimidating in his club gear...was too much for simple, innocent Dan. In your heart you’re relieved. It’s stupid--beyond stupid--but you’re still hung up on Coco. Maybe now that he sees you’re serious about moving on he’ll finally come to his senses. 

You’re pondering this as you down the dredges of your margarita and watch your friend, Andrea, making out with a girl in the back of the bar. You sigh. At least someone won’t be lonely tonight. You settle your tab and head out to the sidewalk, opening the Lyft app on your phone. You notice a familiar looking bike parked on the side of the street and do a double take. Had Coco been in the bar and you hadn’t even noticed? Fuck--you really are distracted tonight. You walk back over to the large window at the font of the building and, sure enough, Coco, Angel and Gilly are sitting around a table near the front. You immediately catch Coco’s eye and stumble back out of sight. Great. He probably thinks you’re stalking him now. For a second you lose your balance and have to catch yourself up against a parking meter. Damn...how many margaritas did you have again?

“Hey, you alright?” you hear the sound of a male voice, pitched in a mockery of false concern and you wince in annoyance. You so don’t want to deal with some asshole pretending to care about your well-being so he can get in your pants.

“Fine, thanks,” you answer in a clipped tone, subtly shifting back closer to the window to be in sight of the other patrons. The street is dark and deserted.

“You need a ride home?” he offers, following you and getting up in your personal space. Take a fucking hint, Chad. He’s tall, well-built. Looks younger than you, maybe college-age. He’s probably “slumming” it at the towny bar.

You glare up at him and answer, “No. Go away.”

His eyes go from mischievous to hard and angry in a flash and you’re suddenly aware of how much he’s swaying on his feet and the strong scent of spirits coming off of his breath. He crowds you up against the brick building and snatches the phone from your hands, “You fuckin’ bitch. You can’t even be polite when a man offers you help? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He’s caging you up against the wall and your whole body is shaking. You can still hear the boisterous noises from inside the bar but out here you’re utterly alone with this suddenly dangerous man. Without thinking you slide your hand into your purse and your fingers curl around the handle of the pistol Coco gave you, insisting that you needed a way of protecting yourself. You had scoffed at the time--but you had to admit, it did make you feel safer walking alone at night. Now your fingers shake as you slowly remove it from your bag. But before you have time to do anything the asshole is suddenly attacked from the side and he crumples onto the sidewalk like a bag of bricks. Coco stands over him, shoulders heaving as he gasps for breath. 

“Fuckin’ scum!” he shouts, kicking the dude in the stomach and causing him to curl up into a ball. Angel and Gilly are hot on his heels and the three of them drag the kid into an alley. You catch the sounds of fists and shoes colliding with soft human flesh. In a few seconds Coco reappears and he makes a beeline for you. His brows are drawn together with concern even if his mouth is still set in a firm, angry line. He’s almost reached you when he stops short and slowly reaches out his hands toward you, “Hey...hey, you’re alright now, querida. You can put that gun away, okay? I’m bulletproof...but please, don’t shoot me.”

Your hands are shaking, your whole body is shaking and yet you’re frozen in place. You froze. Like a deer in the headlights, that’s what you did in the presence of danger. The truth stabs at you. You are a liability. Can’t even take care of yourself with a damn gun in your hands. Coco wraps his fingers around yours and gently pries them loose, taking the gun from you and stowing it in the waistband of his jeans. 

“Baby,” he coos, running his hands over your arms, his eyes flicking over your body looking for damage. “Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, still a little dazed but forcing yourself to respond, “No..no he didn’t. Thanks to you…”

Suddenly he’s dragging you into his arms, pressing his lips to the crown of your head and kissing you over and over again, “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…”

“What are you talking about?” you’re still in shock and the sounds from the alley have stopped leaving an ominous silence in their wake. 

“I didn’t mean what I said. I want you, Y/N. I can’t stand to see you with anyone else. I can’t stand to think that something might happen to you because I wasn’t there...I need you, baby…”

“Oh…” you reply, finally looking into his eyes and seeing the truth gleaming in their depths. “Well, good. Dummy.”

And you grab the collar of his worn leather vest, pulling him down to your height so you can press your lips to that lop-sided grin.

#johnny coco cruz #coco cruz #Johnny coco cruz x reader #coco cruz x reader #richard cabral #mayans mc #chelsfic #chelsfic clown show reaches 900

[aloera]

The ask prompt is too long to fit into an ask TT_TT but here's the doc for it docs(.)google(.)com/document/d/1yDI7iFRhOJ8ENv_IwZAo3rDSUqj80EiJROS10RzRbj4/edit

the lengths u are going for this,,, much appreciated you're very sweet!!!

prompts + answers under the cut!!

INTRODUCTION

Name: aloera

AO3 account: aloera

Fandoms you write for: bnha

How many stories have you written so far: 19

FANFICTION PROFILE

What's your favorite fandom to write for? hmm,,, used to do pjo and eah (ever after high) and eah was fun as fuck i will say!!! i think bnha is my fav mostly bc i made the most friends in this fandom :D

What's your favorite character/person to write for? bkg and kirishima!! cannot choose do not make me <3

Fic you'd want to improve? probably what we deserve? i rushed the beginning and the confession is a bit stilted imo

Hardest fic you've written? between lion and men -_- bc there is so much canon compliant stuff i've gotta write out before i get to the divergence and its HARD

Easiest fic you've written? come home to me!!! it happened so easily,,, no second guessing no writers block just vibes <33 was lovely i miss it

What would you say is the most "famous" fic you've ever written? also probably come home to me? its got the most interaction

first line of the first fic you've ever written and published. [not including my 2014 ffnet fics] "The bell rings, class starts, and Katsuki and Midoriya are inexplicably absent." from come home to me

Have you ever done a collab with another writer? yes!!!!! on two separate occasions and its so fucking fun i highly recommend trying it out its the best

Do you beta? if asked but honestly im a shit beta lmao

Do you like joining fic fests/exchanges? depends on what i have going on irl but in general yeah!!

FANFICTION PREFERENCES

Fluff or angst? definitely fluff

"OCs" or "Reader" inserts? reader inserts!! have been going ham on them recently

Blurbs or drabbles? blurbs!!

One thing you love about fanfiction i just. i really love slice of life romance?? and most media doesn't give you that bc its dedicated to plot and action and that's valid!! but fanfiction fills in the gap which is really nice

One thing you don't like about fanfiction most of the stuff i don't like is less about actual fanfiction and more about how people behave about it

What is/are your favorite fandom author/authors? IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! TURN IT UP!!!

bnha: hiuythn, rae_tnub, Moniix, Ata_Lanta, wrunic, chezka, PurplePersnickety, surveycorpsejean, mahadevi, arxaris, deviance, Oceanbreeze7, MikeWritesThings, bonnia, wonhaebunny, dinosuns

voltron: hiuythn, Oceanbreeze7, DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee, arahir, dinosuns,

and honorable mention to loveclouds im not even in the haikyuu fandom i just love their fics So Much

these are just the ones off the top of my head i have so many favourites idc if i'm only supposed 2 have one!! die mad about it!!!

What is your favorite trope? secret relationship + relationship reveal til the day i die babie <3 <3

Least favorite trope? hm,,, probably just like. angst lmao i cannot stand 90% of it

A fanfiction cliché that you can't help but love? coffeeshop aus,,,, so good

Do you have a type when it comes to pairings? the otp where its like. piece of shit + himbo = love. ex. krbk, catradora, jade/beck

Favorite setting/au? hm,,, truly i cannot pick one KGKSJNHKj but i really like college aus!! and modern aus!! and roommate aus!!

Explain the meaning of your favorite line of dialogue you've written as if someone hasn't read it in context. “He doesn’t know,” Katsuki says, softly. “My timer stopped and nothing happened. He’s not mine.”

the line is from what we deserve!! it's a soulmate au where your timer counts down to the moment that you meet your soulmate!! bakugou's timer ends at USJ when he and kirishima attack kurogiri at the same time (impulsive kings <33) but kirishima's timer doesn't end until kamino because that's when he accepts himself as bakugous soulmate!! unfortunately, when bakugous timer has reached 0, he turned to see that kirishima's was still ticking and therefore believes that kirishima isn't his soulmate.

this line just,, idk. it's really sad. bakugou is such an action-driven character? if something doesn't go his way he Makes it go his way. he's got this insanely volatile quirk and he's got impeccable control of it!! but his love for kirishima isn't something that he can change and he's not going to ruin kirishima's chance of finding his own soulmate because he loves him and wants him to be happy. i really wanted to focus on how resigned he is? and how unusual that is for a character like him.

Favorite trope/genre to write? again, secret relationship with relationship reveals <33 fluff in general is my wheelhouse!!!

A trope/genre you haven't written but think would be a fun challenge? idk if this counts?? have been working on some dead dove concepts!! its super different from what i normally write so its a cool challenge

The one trope/concept you'll never touch and why probably cheating/infidelity?? it just looks,,, super difficult to write well and i don't have enough of an interest in it to try it out

Which do you prefer to write: longer or shorter fics? shorter!! low attention span gang <3

Ideal length to read? 5-10k?

Ideal length to write? 4-8k!!

How long was the longest fic you've ever written? control fraek is around 28k i think?

Have you ever written an AU? yeah!! i've done restaurant au's, soulmate au's, pro hero aus, and fantasy aus (general, not the bnha fantasy ending)

What's your favorite AU trope? hm,, probably when two people in authority are in a secret relationship? ceo's/uni professors/etc etc

Have you ever written smut? yeah!! was. difficult tho

What's your comfort genre? (the one you fall on most in writing/reading) fluff,,, hurt/comfort,,, fix-it fics with happy endings <3

If you were to start writing in other fandoms, which would they be? maybe jjk?? the characters are really cool!!!! fr i might go back to my ever after high roots i love the characters and setting so Much its so fun!!! idec if no ones into it anymore!!!!!

Is there a trope you think you could be easily recognized by in your writing? i've had people say they saw the mention of buff hagakure and recognized it was me so. probably that skdjhnksjd

WRITING STYLE

How would you describe your style? i tend to use shorter sentences and pretty simple words i think? and i gravitate towards lighthearted concepts that allow for ensemble casts and humour!!

Describe your style in three words romcom but fanfic

Favorite words to use when writing? the word reverent!! fuckin love including it!!

Dialogue tags or no dialogue tags? (she said, he said, they said, etc) dialogue tags!!!

Favorite dialogue tag (other than said, if you use them) again idk if this counts but "they said softly" is unmatched

Long sentences vs short vs a mix short <33

What colors would you use to describe your writing? hm,,, depends on the fic i would say?? control fraek is dark green to me?? kinda like a forest at night yk?? scary but there's still life there. sugar cookies is yellow like early morning sunlight, when it rains is yellowy-orange like a caution sign. not gonna list all of them cause theres a lot its just. do u get it? the colours change based on the vibe of the fic.

What song or music genre would you use to describe your writing? think. i am constantly trying to emulate that moment at the end of wasteland baby when hozier goes "im in love/im in love with you."

What kind of metaphors do you rely on? religious metaphors my beloved <33 they're just so pretty!!! i also love comparing stuff to water for some reason?? like that ocean vuong quote thats like "what are you now?/water." it goes hard!!!

What's something you'd say is experimental in your writing at this time? definitely action!! i have,,, no idea how to write it so anything i do is really just me playing around and seeing what works and what doesn't

Do you prefer to write by hand or to type? i've tried both!! personally i prefer typing because it goes way faster but i will say that writing by hand lets me get words down when i'm going through writer's block

What is your preferred place to write (notebook, laptop, cellphone, etc.)? laptop!!

What app/apps do you use to write (word, notepad, etc.)? google docs skjdnkjh its fine on desktop but mobile is,,,,, disgusting

Do you keep a notebook or file/notes page in your phone/device for notes on your writing? ngl i just have everything organized in my drive?? one folder per fandom and then sub folders for ideas+hcs, unfinished wips, and finished fics. multichaps get sub sub folders so i can organize outlines and drafts

Do you listen to music to help you write? yeah!! playlists organized by fic vibe :D

Where do you usually go to write (bedroom, living room, etc.)? mostly in my bedroom??? but moving around to different stops helps too i think!!

How long does it usually take for you to write? again this depends on what i have going on irl, how attached i am to the idea, my mindset at the time, etc!! i am,, the least consistent person skjnhdkjh.

What's your favorite font to use when writing? times new roman my beloved

Other writing habits? sometimes i'll write in the dark?? bad for my eyes but for some reason it gets the words flowing

CONCEPTUALIZATION

How do you conceptualize your ideas? (See specific moments like they're a movie, writing specific lines in your head, don't know until you put the words on paper, etc.) i tend to get inspiration from movies, books, poems, or other fics!!! sometimes one line just makes me go oh,, i want to write something like that,,, and then it helps me create an idea that makes me feel the same way?? i did this with control fraek!!!! i wanted a scenario where bakugou was cold and calculating and i was like hm. to do that he’d have to be focusing on something important. and from there i was able to flesh out the rest of the idea.

Which comes first: the pairing or the plot? with krbk its always always the pairing,, i'll be sitting there like wow <33 i love them <33 what if one of them had amnesia <33 (which, yes, wip!!) otherwise it's usually the plot!! and i slot in characters that i feel make sense

Have you ever used a prompt? yeah!! used a prompt for wlw week 2020 and it was fun as hell

Do you write around the story around a specific scene you want to get to or do you start from a plot idea definitely the first!!!! i almost always write like,,, a super messy scene thats 90% dialogue, keep it in my head, and then write the entire fic around that one moment

Do you find that you include a projection of some part of yourself in the way you write a character? a lot of the time when i write love confessions or love in general i'll have one of the characters think or say that the other person makes their head quiet? and it's because that's what i feel whenever i'm in love?? a quiet mind. i project on characters yeah but i think most of the projection actually goes to the way that i write love

Do you research some of the things you write deeply, partially and kind of wing the rest, or play entirely by ear (in this case, go with whatever base knowledge of the subject you have)? most of the time if i do research it'll be about the setting (ex. the izakaya in to have and to hold) or if i'm having the characters interact with an object that they like. need to know how to use (me, in control fraek: google. hey google. does someone die if they get shot in the foot??? no???? awesome thank u <3)

Have you ever had an idea for a story and forgot about it? lmaoo yeah all the time i'll find like 500-2k words of concepts in my gdocs like i do. not remember this at all

Is there a trope you think you could be easily recognized by in your writing? probably krbk secret relationship lmao

Are there concepts you've tried that turned out better than expected? yeah!! i fully thought the action in control fraek would be awful but it turned out not bad??? which im happy with

Are there concepts you've tried that turned out worse than you expected? again, what we deserve, i personally think it would have worked out better if i'd paced it slower and drawn out the pining but i. do not feel like going back to fix it so its staying the way that it is. pining is so fucking hard to do AHHHH i get so tired with it!!! im like just date already!!!!

PROCESS

How do you come up with titles? in rare occasions (literally. all my multichaps for some reason) the title comes after writing like .5 words of the first chapter im like YES this is it!!!!! sometimes i write the whole thing and pick out one line that fits (what i did with come home to me) a lot of the time i just. steal from songs or poems that i like

What's your favorite emotion to cause on your readers? i like making people happy!!!! love when people comment saying they're cheered up

What's your favorite emotion to write? lovelovelovelovelovelove

Have you ever cried or felt any emotion while reading something you've written? never cried?? but sometimes i'll rereading my hurt/comfort fics 4. yk. comfort

Do you write in order or whatever comes to you? in order!! unless i have a scene that i Need to write and i'll quickly jot it down so that i don't forget

Usual way you procrastinate while writing? ...doing asks like this, making playlists, discord, watching netflix. what don't i do smh

Do you outline or free write? i am. so shit at outlines. i mostly free write and write lil notes for stuff that i wanna add later

Do you set word goals or scene goals (scenes you want to include)? yes!! like i said i'll write loose notes for scenes that i want to add later!! it gives me something to write towards :D

What do you consider when writing your scenes? what goes into making the atmosphere and mood you want? to set a scene i do two things? the first is like,, the five senses bc that always sets the scene really well and makes it feel Real. i'll visualize stuff in my head like its a movie and write out what i would want to tell the set designer?? if the lights are low, if the space is busy, if it's supposed to exude comfort or not.

for putting forward the character's mood one thing i've found that makes a difference is sentence length!! long sentences are good for making a character seem flustered and nervous or not really in control of their emotions? good for love confessions. short sentences are good for when the character is focused on something or short on time. good for fights!!

What's something you never considered to include in your writing that you can't leave out now? def buff hagakure,,,, once i thought of it i was like. if i don't include this at least once in every single fic how could i look at myself in the mirror!!!!!! how could i face anyone!!!!

How do you start a story? establishing a fact about the character or describing the setting! option a is one single thread of gold, option b is between lion and men

How do you end a story? either by tying it back to the beginning or doing like a funny kind of closing??? option a is sugar cookies, option b is a godless society

How do you get out of writer's block? change something!! move something!! i go from typing to handwriting, moving from my bedroom to my living room, switching wips to work on something else!! i do sprints as well?? give myself like fifteen minutes to write something and sometimes 200 words opens up the way for another 2k. sometimes i'll just delete like 500 words and start fresh

Do you edit? or do you toss your writing out there? i edit!!! i'll go over it myself then send it to one or two betas (bee my beloved <33)

How do you edit? do you use spellcheck, grammar checkers, etc? bee is my grammar checker bc he is So Good with grammar. i use grammarly as well for spellcheck stuff mostly?? sometimes my edit process is just like "am i tired of looking at this!! yes <3" and then i post it

PROGRESS

Do you usually like what you write? yeah!!! i post stuff that makes me happy and that i'm fine with rereading!!! i write stuff for self-indulgence reasons first and foremost and i think my writing reflects that sjhnksj

Have you ever written something you didn't like but posted anyways? nope!! even what we deserve i LIKED even if i see a lot of room 4 improvement!! if i don't like smth it's not getting posted

Do you find yourself rereading your writing often? yeah!! the reason i wrote so much krbk secret relationship is because i loved it but i'd read all that there was so i just,, wrote more,, ngl its kinda nice being in a place where i actually like my writing bc i can write stuff that i want to see and really enjoy it!!

Can you tell us anything about your current WIP? sure!! i'm currently working on when it rains which is a fic where bakugou gets hit by a crying quirk!! i'm gonna be using it to explore So Much of all might's character and his relationships with bakugou and aizawa (and i think some people from his past!!)

Can you give us a sneak peek on your current WIP? “You did something. What the hell did you do?” Kirishima sounds pissed off. It would amuse Katsuki if he wasn’t fighting just to stay standing.

“Nothing he didn’t ask for,” Shinsou replies.

“K’ri… shima,” Katsuki croaks out. “‘S fine. Not him.”

His chest collapses back into the familiar dry heaving after that but Kirishima shuts up. He doesn’t apologize to Shinsou.

Kirishima’s a good friend, stubborn and loyal. He stands by Katsuki’s side like an attack dog, blocking him from the view of anyone ogling at his tears.

The last line you've written Ochako knows more than she'd realized. She knows enough to keep her guard up.

It’s not enough.

Open a wip. what’s the first line?

Katsuki wakes up feeling like absolute fucking shit.

INSIGHT

What's your favorite thing about writing? touched on this before but it's mainly just being able to write the things that i want to see and actually enjoy them!!! actually reread them!!!! i thought "wouldn't it be cool if bkg and kirishima owned a restaurant together" and then i wrote it and i like it enough to reread it!!!! being able to create content for myself makes me. so happy

How do you keep yourself inspired? this is gonna sound narcissistic maybe but honestly i'm just really excited about my ideas and where i'm gonna take them and the idea of "i'm gonna get to That scene" keeps me going through the entire thing. also my friends!!!! i'll talk to them about fics and their reactions keep me hyped up enough to finish!!!!

What is your favorite thing to write? just,, slice of life romance,,, stuff thats silly and makes people laugh!!

What do you think your strengths are in writing? i'm good with dialogue!! i do lil voice acting sessions with myself to make sure everything sounds natural and like it's coming from that character skhjnskj

i'm comfortable with my portrayal of love as well??? i spend a lot of time thinking about what it is exactly that i'm trying to get across and i think it turns out well!!

What are things you wish you could practice more? on one hand i wanna get better at writing angst on the other hand i dislike writing angst. do you see my issue

One way you've improved your writing since you began? characterization!! i think i've gotten better at writing characters that are all Different and bring different things to the table!!! i used to project a lot more and it would compromise the characterization because the character was like 70% me and 30% them? not to say that projection is bad but if you do it too much it just,, doesn't read like the character and from a reader's standpoint the narrative can become less compelling

One aspect of writing you're still working on? writing action!!! i. literally hate writing it but i write for a fandom about superheroes so. Unfortunately i gotta learn.

A piece of writing advice you've learned while writing saw this on another tumblr post but they said sometimes if you're struggling with a scene, the problem is five lines back. i've found that to be true!!!! sometimes u gotta delete a chunk and start a little ways back!! i did this with too busy being yours because i was stuck for Weeks and i deleted like 25% of what i had but it helped me actually finish it :D

A bit of writing advice you can't stand when people shit on show don't tell for being overrated lmao bc when u read their writing you can Tell

Something you wish you knew when you first started writing? ,,,,honestly i kind of wish i could know some of the stuff that i used to when i first started writing?? technically i'm better now but creatively i was must better when i wasn't stressing about whether anyone would like what i was writing. so i guess i wish i knew that i should keep that confidence? i kinda wish that i wasn't as insecure about other people's writing styles because i never used to be!!

Something you've learned in life that you apply in writing there's no point in feeling inferior?? writing one genre isn't better than the other. being in one fandom isn't better than being in another. the kind of language you use or the length of your paragraphs- none of that stuff like. matters. what matters is that you're having fun and happy with what you're creating!!!! enjoy other peoples writing but don't let it make you feel worse about yours :D

#AHH ive wanted to answer these for so long...... bro fr i was so happy when u sent these!!! like wow!! finally got sent one!!! #sorry for how long the responses are idk how to be concise #asks #anon #a(lore)a