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coexistentialism · 4 months

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did anything in particular help u get over denial bc u don’t know much abt your alters? I feel like a silly to think I could have this disorder bc I’m very clueless

Hmm... Other than my diagnosis and generally teaching myself, I'm not entirely sure.

Note here when I say "you" in this post, I'm not directing this at you, Anon, specifically!

Mostly just a lot of research. Like so much research. Please, PLEASE do research - actual research - if and when you can, even if you have to find audiobooks or find alternative ways to research, as long as you are not solely getting your information from social media! Including me man! Do your own research! I am a human being too and I am capable of being wrong! I would LOVE to share places where I research, how I research, etc. if anyone is interested in a post like that.

Talking to other systems, being in (...good..) system spaces, and learning about other systems' experiences, both different and similar to my own. You can browse blog pages, forum posts, Reddit, Tumblr, read books, watch short films made by people with DID/OSDD, find other YouTubers to watch, etc. I can also share a post about some stuff I recommend, like Forums and Reddit posts and blogs.

Throw out OSDD versus DID. I'm so serious. I think some people who question DID/OSDD have treated questioning it like way too seriously and I kinda just wanna go. Who cares man. If you suspect you have DID or OSDD, who cares, just say you suspect DID or OSDD. You. Don't need to narrow it down to one, I promise you it doesn't matter as much as the internet acts like it does. I think the DID criteria could do with changing and to be less restrictive in order to include a wider variety of presentations and experiences. At the end of the day, when somebody says they're an OSDD system, this means SO many different things for SO many different people. You ask one person with OSDD what that means for them and they might have a totally different answer than someone else with OSDD. I just think people should learn to be okay with saying "I suspect DID/OSDD, I don't know which" more often instead of attempting to figure out which one they have. The reason it's so confusing is because OSDD doesn't have criteria. It doesn't have criteria for you to meet and the internet makes shit up about OSDD, so you get fed misinformation about it and things don't add up and don't make sense because it's misinformation. So just throw this out and learn to be okay with not knowing whether it's DID or OSDD. It's okay. You don't have to narrow it down. Relax NFDKJASKD

Tips:

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, ANYTHING THAT YOU READ ABOUT DID/OSDD ONLINE THAT YOU FOUND HELPFUL - SAVE IT SOMEWHERE! I promise you will want to look back at them and read them over and over again several times and each time you do, you will realize things you hadn't before. So often, I've gone back and read research papers that I've read in the past, or books, etc. and found that I understood them much better, that they made me realize a lot more about myself, etc. than the first time I read them. Or the second time, or the third time, etc.

Lots and lots of journaling, even if you think it's useless/pointless, even if you think it's unhelpful, even if you don't understand the point. I did not understand how journaling would help me figure out my alters because I was expecting myself to magically find something written there like the next day with no memory of it, and it. Does not fuckign work that way LMFAO at least not for most people. I was expecting the wrong thing, I was assuming that that was the indicators of switching I was looking for, that I was supposed to communicate to my alters in that way, but I knew that that wasn't an experience I would have, and I obviously didn't experience it, so I didn't understand the point. It soon became clear how wrong I was NFKSDNFJKADNKJDASF

It's okay to be ""cringe."" It's okay to be ""weird."" Let yourself be weird as Hell. Let yourselves be "cringey." It's okay. Be free. NFDJFNKDSA

Allow your experiences to Just Be. You don't have to figure out if that experience was a switch right now, you don't have to figure out if that voice you heard was Truly An Alter right now, I just mean that you don't have to overthink it and you can allow your experiences to simply happen and then analyze them later. It's okay. Even if they are weird, even if they are cringey, even if they're embarrassing. I mean, so long as no-one is harmed, but even in that case, it's okay to put safety measures into place, or find alternatives, find coping skills, or if something harmful has already happened, to attempt to mend it, and analyze things later, etc. Things will come to you as long as you let them, but you won't be able to figure things out if you refuse to allow experiences to simply happen instead of overthinking it, like I used to do where I constantly just felt like "but that's not truly an alter, so-" and just refused to let things Just Happen.

Most importantly: take your time. seriously. this is a process that can - unfortunately - agonizingly take several years. but the pay-off is worth it and when you start to feel that denial lessen, you will look back and feel as if no time as passed (or is that the dissociation NFJDASNFK

I think that's about everything I can think of so far!

#inbox #my posts

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fillinforlater · 10 months

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Monday of Appreciation: Part 92

Hello everyone, Smite here.

Third attempt at trying to post this. Tumblr, if you fuck this up again, I swear, I'll lose my mind. Anyways, fuck this week, it was mostly bad to downright terrible. I really appreciate all the small nice things and amazing people that have helped me through this. There will be a lot other weeks like these, please be there for me.

Enough of this shit, let's get some good stuff:

-1-

@sinswithpleasure: Trans-generational collaboration ft. IU, Mina, Heejin

Let's start of with a quick smut, simple and addictive. Enough cum to fill each of the hotties holes with cream, God I wish. It seemed simple enough at first, the twist when Mina... and IU... nah, you better read it yourself lol.

-2-

@ggidolsmuts: Rose in the Concrete Jungle ft. Riina (H1-Key)

Thank you, ddeun, for appreciating and showing us underrated and very hot idols. Who, if not the legend himself. This was well done, a cute story to get us introduced to Riina. But when she suddenly started... nah, you better read it yourself (and go listen to H1-Key!).

-3-

@capslocked: Starlet ft. Miyeon

There is no hyperbole I can use to describe the brilliance of this fic. I could go on and on about the base setting, the first scene, the ... scene and oh God the ... pointed skyward while... nah, you BETTER read this masterpiece yourself!

-4-

@worldsover: Hourglass ft. Saerom

Talking about Masterpiece: Levi, you are a madman. The kissing scene alone made my head pop and melt, I couldn't help myself amd read the entire thing in one go, as fast as possible. It felt like a second, a moment yet it was an hour.

Oh, y'all better fucking read this!

See you around, cutiesa

#kpop smut #mondayofappreciation #male reader smut #female idol smut #girl group smut

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elizmanderson · 11 months

Note

"a kiss to anger a third party," perhaps from this post? elizmanderson. tumblr. com /711617943947067392

okay so fun fact, I am actually an idiot who read right over “another kissing prompt” on the post this kissing prompt came from and rb it just intending to like save the list of different kisses for later

but then I was too embarrassed to admit that in response to this ask WITHOUT writing something so long story short instead of researching lighthouses today like I was supposed to, I wrote a 1,700-word short story about fake girlfriends who kiss in the hallway outside grandma’s sewing room to piss off some shitty relatives

so. yeah. uh. enjoy I guess.

A KISS TO ANGER A THIRD PARTY STORY THAT I DIDN’T MEAN TO WRITE BUT HERE WE ARE

Fake dating has been going shockingly well, considering you’re terrible at real dating and also at lying, and somehow faking dating is both. Then again, family get-togethers are always awkward as fuck. Your cousin and his wife always share a chilly silence; your uncle has a casually off-color comment for every occasion; your mother judges everyone like doing so is an Olympic sport; and your grandparents desperately try and fail to keep the peace. So no one notices that you and Maeve stand across the room from each other instead of holding hands and melting into each other’s bodies the way two lovey-dovey newlydatings should allegedly do.

Rather, if anyone notices, they figure it’s normal. That’s how relationships are in your family, grandparents aside, and everyone has long since written them off as sweet old weirdos. The only reason you don’t think the lingering gazes you share with Maeve are more action than your relatives have ever had is the existence of multiple generations of biological children.

You share a gaze now. Not because you’re actually into Maeve, although you’re not not into Maeve; you picked an attractive fake girlfriend. Tall, with an undercut and dark eyes and a crooked nose and muscley arms that sometimes you think would be really great for picking you up and throwing you onto a bed, before you remember this is fake and please brain do not.

The corner of Maeve’s mouth turns up. You look away, biting back a smile.

You would like to stand here not-smiling at Maeve all night—or at least until the end of the torturous family cookout, which hasn’t even technically started yet because your uncle decided to “help” Grandpa with the grill and ended up setting all the food on fire instead, and the second attempt at dinner just went on the grill three minutes ago—but you seriously have to pee. In lieu of food, you’ve downed three cans of Coke from the drinks fridge in the garage. You cross the kitchen, accidentally-on-purpose brush against Maeve as you exit, and head down the hall to the half bath.

When you come out, you hear voices. Snatches of words. Your mother and cousin-in-law, sitting in your grandma’s sewing room. They’re supposed to be organizing it for her, but instead they’re sitting on bolts of fabric, gossiping.

“...tried to tell me they’d found someone, but they look absolutely miserable with that girl they brought,” your mother says. With a jolt, you realize she’s talking about you. “Maybe they’ll sit together at dinner, but with how far apart they’ve been standing since they arrived, I doubt it. And that girl has been scowling at everyone.”

“She’s worse than Luc,” your cousin-in-law says smugly. “And god knows he has the worst resting bitch face I ever saw. Sometimes I don’t know why I fell in love with him. No offense.”

“None taken. He’s not my kid.”

You don’t even like Luc, but your fingers curl into fists. As usual, you wonder what the fuck you did in a past life to be born into a family of people who spend all their time hating each other.

“Anyway” —your cousin-in-law examines her nails, fresh from a day at the salon, where she surely treats the staff hellishly— “I don’t think it’ll last. They’ve hardly spoken two words to each other all afternoon.”

Your fists tighten. She’s one to talk. She and Luc have hardly spoken to each other since the day of their wedding; on the rare occasion you do hear them speak, they’re picking fights. She gushes about her perfect marriage to anyone who will listen when her husband isn’t around, but their marriage—your uncle’s marriage, your parents’ marriage, every marriage around you except your grandparents’—is exactly the reason you’ve been so reluctant to date. The reason you asked Maeve to fake being your girlfriend, so your relatives would stop offering to set you up with someone. They all make each other fucking miserable.

And they think you and Maeve won’t last?

Okay yeah sure fine, you and Maeve aren’t a thing in the first place. Not really. You’re neighbors, and coworkers, and maybe friends now.

But since Maeve agreed to fake-date you, you’ve shared more with her about yourself than you have with...anyone, maybe. Definitely more than you’ve shared with anyone in your family. Definitely more than they share with their respective spouses, or each other.

Silly things, mostly. You like it when the front door of a house is painted bright, aqua or magenta or chartreuse. Your favorite flowers are all the yellow ones, like dandelions or forsythia, even though otherwise you’re not that fond of yellow. You always like the sad songs and love ballads more than the fun, fast-paced songs that steal the show. Things that don’t matter, except that they do, because now Maeve points out all the brightly colored doors when you walk back to your apartment building together after a shift.

Your mother and cousin-in-law are still talking. The conversation has moved on now—apparently your uncle has cheated on his wife, again—but you’re angry. Your skin prickles. Your nails bite your palms. You could nudge the door open and confront them, but confrontation has never been your forte.

Instead, you tiptoe to the kitchen and touch Maeve’s back.

She half turns, an eyebrow quirked. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just. I need you to come with me.”

“Why?” Maeve asks, but she’s already following you back down the hall.

“Because my relatives suck and I need you to kiss me.”

You stop far enough from the sewing room that your mother and cousin-in-law probably won’t hear you. You turn toward Maeve, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. It hasn’t occurred to you that the words I need you to kiss me actually just crossed your lips. Maeve’s dark eyes flicker over you, but she mirrors your posture and waits.

“They’re all in shitty marriages,” you say in a low voice, “except my mom, because she’s in a shitty divorce that was so shitty it was almost as bad as the marriage, except that it was over faster. But because we’re not attached at the hip or making googly eyes at each other, they think my relationship with my new girlfriend is a dead-end that’s going to end before it’s begun.”

Maeve snorts. “Fuck them. I may not make googly eyes at my fake girlfriend, but they’re nuts if they think I wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth and back for my fake girlfriend. Or, like, bring home takeout every night after work, or always do the laundry because they hate doing laundry, or whatever.”

That gets you for a second, because okay yeah sure fine it’s all fake, but Maeve still just kind of said she’d go to the ends of the earth for you. And bring you takeout. And always do laundry, which honestly might as well be a marriage proposal, because someone doing the laundry so you don’t have to is well and truly your love language.

“So.” Maeve’s eyes rove over your face. “Not that I object to kissing you, but how exactly is kissing going to help this situation?”

Right. You asked her to kiss you. Or more accurately stated slightly desperately and angrily that you need her to kiss you. You tense, trying to sound cool and nonchalant when you’re now thinking about kissing Maeve.

“When my mom and cousin-in-law come out of that room,” you say, nodding back toward the sewing room, “I want them to see us kissing. Like, really kissing. You know.”

The corner of Maeve’s mouth lifts again. “Really kissing. Gotcha.”

You flush. “Yeah. That. I just. I want...” You want some really great kissing. Focus. “I want them to see that we’re actually fucking into each other and super affectionate with each other even if we don’t feel like turning it into a performance so everyone else will believe we’re in love.”

Maeve tilts her head. “Even though it’ll literally be a performance so everyone will believe we’re in love?”

Your flush deepens. “Yeah.”

Maeve shifts closer, her eyes flickering over you. God, her eyes. Dark and intense and always just a little bit sad.

“I think I can sell being fucking into you,” she says quietly.

Shit, you think vaguely, poor choice of words on your part, because fucking and you are the only things you can think now that Maeve has repeated them back to you. But the thought slips away, because now Maeve is an inch away, her tall body curving over you, and her hands are cupping your face and oh my god she is actually really for real going to kiss you.

Her lips brush over yours, soft and sweet. Your breath hitches.

The door opens down the hall. As your relatives step out of the sewing room, Maeve crushes your lips under hers. Her hands slip into your hair, your arms wind around her neck, you pull her down, closer, closer, and now you’re kissing her back, your fingers playing in her hair just because they can, your eyes closed, your skin glorying in the warmth of her breath, the press of her body against yours.

Behind you, Luc’s shitty wife makes a sound of disgust and says, “Oh my god, get a room!” Your mother hisses, “Do you want to give your grandmother a heart attack? Right outside her sewing room!”

But (a) your grandma is safely outside by the grill, far away from the sudden make-out session, and (b) your grandma, if she saw you kissing a pretty girl, would almost certainly say something along the lines of “isn’t that sweet!” or “good for them!” And frankly you don’t remember why it was important to kiss Maeve where your mother and cousin-in-law would see it. Or whether there was a point to kissing Maeve at all, unless kissing Maeve was the point.

Your brain is preoccupied with Maeve’s lips on yours, her hands cradling your head, your body crushed beneath hers. But as your relatives slink past and disappear, as the sliding door in the kitchen opens and slams, as Maeve goes on kissing you like her life depends on it, as you fail to say something along the lines of okay we can stop now—as you fail to say, in fact, anything at all—you think, distantly: maybe this dating is less fake than I thought.

#answered #writing prompts #kissing prompts #short story #e's writing

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celestial-sapphicss · 2 years

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So if this is how we're meant to bid farewell, eroding in time, little by little. I shall find a tree and carve our names there, so when one gets lost, a mark will guide us back here.

kilometer zero × bad buddy

patpran, in their safe zones, being each other's homes.

(translation based on subtitles from the episode)

#bad buddy #vi.edits #badbuddyedit #ian pangilinan #THIS IS NOT A SAD EDIT OKAY? THIS IS A HOPEFUL ONE #this is what I've been upto since Friday instead of studying for my finals #this is the last time i post about gaya sa pelikula #i promise trust me #favorite locations #this is my third attempt at posting this please tumblr gods help

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starryevermore · 3 years

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Congrats on reaching 2k!!!

For your sleepover, I'm thinking Modern!Tatted Lee Bodecker + fluffy smut with prompt #41, please?

the sweetest treat

prompt 41: "it's like watching a chihuahua provoke a rottweiler."

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, fluff, smut, pet name (princess), fingering, very small daddy kink

note: because of the prompt, i'm including this in the main storyline of modern tatted!lee which surrounds lee's relationship with tiny!reader (tiny referring to height, which is 5'2" or less)

i DO NOT consent to my works being reposted, translated, or published on any third party site or app. if you see my work posted on any platform that is not my tumblr, my wattpad (starryevermore), or my ao3 (illiterate), it has been stolen and reposted without my permission.

reblogs and feedback encouraged.

my blog is strictly 18+. by clicking on the links or read more, you are agreeing that you are an adult. any minors found interacting with my blog will be blocked.

"I can be intimidating!" you argued, glaring at Lee from across the kitchen island.

He cocked a brow. God, you hated it when he looked all smug and self-assured like that. Like he knew you better than you knew yourself. And damn him for being right most of the time—only added to his ego, made him more cocky. Like he needed it. "You sure about that, princess?"

"Yes, I am," you said, stomping your foot and putting your hands on your hips. "I could kick anyone's ass!"

The argument was, admittedly, stupid. You'd told Lee that you were planning to head out for some drinks with some friends, and he said something about being worried that some guy would hit on you. You'd responded that you could handle yourself, that you weren't afraid to get your knuckles a little bloodied and bruised to defend yourself. And the bastard fucking laughed, said that you punching someone would be like a kid playing the strongman game at the carnival.

"Oh yeah? Hit me." He walked around the island, stopping in front of you. "Go ahead. Hit me in the stomach. Do your worst."

You snarled, curling your hand into a fist and hitting his tummy with all your might and—

Oh fuck him!

He barely even wheezed, and most of that was him trying to hold back a fucking laugh.

"Oh, god, it's like watching a chihuaha provoke a rottweiler!"

"I'll have you know chihuahas can be very vicious!"

He took a step forward, reaching out to cradle your face in his large hands. "That's right, sweet cheeks, you're so very vicious," he cooed, leaning down and brushing his lips up against yours. He swiped his tongue over your bottom lip and, though you wanted to prove your point that you could handle yourself, you found yourself melting into him. "Bet your bite is so much worse than your bark."

You almost laughed, but you wanted to prove you couldn't just be teased like that, so as he leaned down to kiss you again, you bit as his bottom lip. Not too hard, but enough that it shocked him.

He pulled away, his eyes darkening with lust. "Oh, so that's how we're playing it, sweet cheeks?" One of his hands left your face, sliding down to your the hem of your sundress, bunching it up as he pawed at your panty-clad core. He pushed your panties to the side, his rough fingertips coating themselves in your slick. "Oh, little girl gets all wet from playing tough? Well, if that's not the most precious thing I've ever seen."

He barely gives you time to adjust to just one finger curling inside you, letting the second follow the first in almost immediately. You threw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he scissored his fingers. Damn him for being so good at this, at knowing how to play your body like a fiddle.

"Can barely fuckin' move in your tight little cunt. Keeps just suckin' me back in."

You rocked your hips against his hand, trying to get more stimulation, and he could only chuckle at your attempts.

"That's it, sweet cheeks, help your daddy get you off. Shit, you think you can be tough? Look how easily you succumbed to me when I came onto you."

"Different! It's different...Fuck, know no one else can make me feel this way."

"Yeah? That right? You only come for your daddy?"

"Only you, promise. All yours, please, let me come!"

"Go ahead, sweet cheeks, come for me."

A wave of pleasure overtook your senses. You fell forward, your face buried in Lee's chest as he removed his fingers from your cunt, bringing them up to his mouth to suck off your juices.

"Mm, the sweetest treat you could ever make, sweet cheeks." He kissed the top of your head, before saying, "Go ahead, go have fun with your friends."

"Huh?" you mumbled, still coming down from your high, too fucked out to process what he was saying.

"I trust you can handle your own. 'Sides, no one messes with my girl anyway. I just like seeing you all riled up."

"Damn you, Lee," you said, but your words held none of the frustration you'd felt earlier. "I'll go, but you owe me for making me so mad."

"Oh, don't worry, I got plenty of plans for you and that cute little pussy."

come celebrate with me!

#starrysleepover #thedarkplume #modern tatted!lee #lee bodecker #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker x tiny!reader #lee bodecker x fem!reader #lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker fan fic #lee bodecker fanfic #lee bodecker fan fiction #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker fanfiction #starrywrites #starryevermore

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pseudo-possum · 3 years

Text

One by one, I'm posting my fanfics to tumblr in no particular order... Firstly, this one...

A Night in the Woods

(Nsfw) Risotto Nero x reader

(yes, I'm bad at titles)

Warnings: NSFW, sex pollen, cum, smut

You fidget with your hands in your lap, trying not to bite your lip. You breathe deep, making a futile attempt to control the heavy breaths you can't help but let out. There's a fire in the pit of your stomach, burning throughout your entire body. Every inch of you is hypersensitive, your clothing feels too hot and heavy, the pressure of your tight panties only making the arousal burn brighter. You look down at the small wet patch on your crotch, and then quickly up at Riso in the driver's seat. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. His eyes are intently fixed on the road. You dare to look down and have to bite back a low moan as you see the bulge in his pants, tip of his cock leaking a dark stain on the fabric.

You cross your legs, trying desperately to ignore the burning arousal. Big mistake. You yelp at the intensified sensation, trying desperately to uncross your legs, but your uncoordinated movements catch your shoe under the dash, trapping you. You struggle, the movement only adding more friction. You can't help but moan a bit. Risotto looks at you, a short, pained glance before poignantly staring back at the road. You manage to get your legs uncrossed, spreading them far apart to minimize friction. You see that the wet patch has bloomed to twice its size. It's very noticeable. "You're feeling it too…" he nods, not looking at you, hands somehow gripping the wheel tighter. "The enemy stand… you got hit…" he nods again. "So why don't we…" this isn't the first time you've thought of him this way, but now, every iota of lust you held for your handsome capo is turned up to eleven.

"I wouldn't want to… take advantage of you… in this state…" god, Risotto wished he could touch you. He'd been desperately in love with you since the day you'd saved his life six months ago. He'd always been too afraid to approach you romantically, worried he'd ruin your professional relationship.

"Please… it… it burns… I need you Riso…" these words send a chill down his back. The desperation in your voice, the use of the pet name, oh god everything.

"Are… are you absolutely sure you want this?" He hesitates.

"Yes… please please please… why don't we consider it… a part of the mission… to recover from an enemy stand… ok?" He looks at you for a long time, before nodding slowly and pulling the car down a dark side road.

"If you need to stop… just tell me… ok?" He says as he pulls over on the side of the road. You immediately take off your seatbelt, climbing over the seats to lay in the back. You shimmy out of your pants, kicking your shoes off before he even opens his door. You lay, spread out on the seat, every inch of you burning as he opens the back door. Instead of getting in, as you expected, he pulls you to the edge of the seat, taking your underwear in both hands, he tears them in two, exposing you to him. His eyes glaze over a bit as he sees just how wet you really are.

"Please just put it in me!" You beg, interrupting his reverie.

"I need to prep you…" he counters, beginning to lick some of your slick off your thigh. Shudders of pleasure course through your body.

"But I'm so wet… please…" the arousal is more painful than ever. You need to be touched. You feel that if you don't get the attention you so crave, you might die of lust.

"If I don't prep you I might hurt you… I'll try to make it quick… I want to be in you just as badly." Without further hesitation, he buries his face between your thighs, eliciting a choked moan of absolute bliss. His tongue feels like sweet relief after so long. He inserts a finger into your desperate cunt, then another. They go in easy, and you moan and flex around them, trying desperately to pull them in deeper. He sucks at your clit, and you feel like you're close to an orgasm already, but nothing comes. It feels so good, but it isn't enough. You whine and beg for him to take you.

When a third finger slides in easily, Risotto decides that you probably don't need as much preparation as he thought. His erection throbs painfully. With a growl, he pulls away his fingers, eliciting a squeal from you. He lifts your hips up, unzipping his pants and freeing his erection. That's when he sees it, a light around the corner. Headlights. Thinking quickly, he shoves you into the backseat, diving on top of you, pulling both your legs in, and slamming the door with metallica.

You don't see the car until after he's on top of you, well muscled arms enveloping you, his chest against your too tight shirt, leaking erection pressed against your inner thigh. He pulls you into a desperate kiss as the car passes. "It's too cramped in here. We're going to the woods." It isn't a question. Once the car is out of sight, he gets out of the car, pulling you out by the legs and throwing you over his shoulder. You go limp in a blissed out haze. Being manhandled like this turns you on so fucking much. He leaps over the ditch, impact of his landing sending shocks of pleasure through your body that make you leak more of your juices onto your thighs.

Risotto gently lays you down on the soft moss of the forest floor. He's on you at once, licking and sucking your neck, kissing you, telling you you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Every touch leaves you wanting more, his mouth is so intoxicating. You let out a choked moan as he tears open your shirt and bra, and the night air washes over your chest, cooling your burning skin. He descends upon your chest, licking and sucking your nipples and breasts. Impatience gets the better of him though, and he pulls away, taking his cock in his hand. You feel your mouth fall open at the sight of it. It's even larger than you expected. He strokes his massive length, looking down at you. "Are you sure you want me?" He asks softly. You nod frantically, a burning physical desperation telling you that you NEED him.

He picks up your hips, pulling your legs around him as he lines up with your soaked entrance. He slides in surprisingly easy, your inner muscles pulling him in deeper. You let out an almost shamefully loud moan, clapping a hand over your mouth. He groans a bit as he penetrates you, filling you slowly, though you want so desperately for him to fuck you into the dirt. Every inch of him fills you so divinely you want to scream. He presses in all the way, stretching you out completely, but there's no pain. He lets out a little gasp. You look down, seeing the cause. There's a slight bulge in your stomach, from where he's so deep inside you.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Risotto breathes heavily as he stares at the bulge he's created. Your response is enthusiastic, but incoherent as you writhe on the ground beneath him, begging to be fucked. He leans in to kiss you, beginning to rock his hips against yours, whole body shaking from the strain of not pounding into you with everything he has. You're gripping him so tightly he can't think straight, but his will is stronger than his urges, and he knows he'd never forgive himself if he hurt you.

"Please fuck me harder!" You beg, grabbing at the straps criss crossing his chest, nails catching his flesh oh so briefly, his oversensitive body shuddering at the pleasure pain. He begins to go harder, marvelling at how you respond, slick soaking his pants, mouth agape in sheer, unadulterated pleasure. He accidentally goes harder than he wanted to on one particular thrust, watching you for any sign of pain, but you only cry out, begging him to let go, to fuck you into the dirt. He complies, giving in to the stand that Haze's his mind. Speeding up feels so good, he moans, sweat beginning to run down his face as the heat of an orgasm builds within him.

Oh god, the feeling of your insides being pummeled is better than anything you've ever felt. Each thrust sends electric fire surging through your veins, making you tighten around him further and further. You can feel every vein on his engorged member pulse within you, his finger finding your clit as you rocket towards an earth shattering orgasm. You come around him, body tensing, twitching, gripping him tight like a vice.

You're so fucking tight. Risotto can feel his own orgasm swiftly approaching. He redoubles his efforts, pounding you harder through your orgasm. A thin strand of rational thought enters his mind. Birth control. Are you on birth control? He doesn't know. He feels his orgasm begin to wash over him, and, despite how much it pains him to pull out, he does, covering you in a hot, pressurized spurt of stick white. He looks down at the shocked expression on your face. "Sorry… I didn't know if you were on the pill…" he says. And even as he says it, he notices, he's still hard. The painful need is filling him again.

"I don't care! Fucking breed me!" He can tell by the desperation in your voice that you're feeling it too. Your words awaken something primal in him, something that doesn't obey thought or reason. He pushes inside you again, fucking you harder than ever. He loves the way you writhe and moan under him, your body taking him so well.

Both of your orgasms come quicker this time, somehow, even more intense than the last. He finishes inside you this time, and again, and again, a total of 6 times before he collapses, exhausted onto you. You're practically numb from pleasure as he rolls over onto his back, pulling off his coat and dragging your limp form onto his chest. He covers the two of you in his jacket, and you fall asleep there, safe and warm on his chest.

…

You wake up feeling sore. You're thirsty, sticky, and there's a dull ache in the pit of your stomach. You look up at the face of your capo, memories of the night before flooding your mind. You blush hard, feeling something sticky between your thighs. You stare at him, pale eyelashes catching the light of the sun. He looks so handsome when he's sleeping. You've never seen him so peaceful before.

He stirs, eyes opening slowly. There's a look there that you've seen before, but never recognized. It's a deep affection that he's always had for you, a love that goes beyond a professional respect and delves into something deeper. He plants a kiss on your forehead.

You look up, the sun is high overhead. Oh no! The team! They haven't heard from you since before the stand! You express your concerns to Risotto, who simply says "Fuck." You try to get up, but your legs won't support you. You collapse back onto his chest, looking down at the imprint in the dirt where he dicked you down the night prior. "I'm gonna get your pants from the car. Stay here." He says, groaning as he gets up, leaving you with his coat. You look down at yourself, realizing what a .ess you look. Your shirt is buttonless and covered in dirt and semen, there's cum in your hair and on your face, not to mention the mess between your legs. You need a shower and a change of clothes before you face the team.

Risotto returns with your pants, a stack of napkins, and a water canteen. You get cleaned up as much as possible, stuffing a napkin into your pants to catch the cum that's still steadily dripping out of you. You drink half the water before he helps you back to the car. He drives while you answer all of the missed calls and texts. You say that there were complications with an enemy stand that delayed you. Which isn't far from the truth.

That truth, however, can't be hidden from your teammates. "YES!" Melone shouts. "YOU OWE ME $20 FORMAGGIO! I KNEW THEY WERE HOOKING UP." he's silenced by a glare from Risotto as he carries you upstairs for a nice hot bath.

#fanfic #la squadra x reader #risotto nero x reader #risotto nero #smut

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libra-kirishima · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 7- Hate Sex (Katsuki Bakugou x Reader)

(I actually posted this already. This repost was to test the Tumblr tag system but it seems to have worked better so I'm keeping this and deleting the original.) If you catch the movie reference i made in this fic i will give you $3 worth of my love and affection.

Warnings: NS/FW Content (including some dub-con moments, degradation, humiliation, choking, and public sex), brief mentions of past Midoriya Izuku/reader.

---

This was so not how you had wanted to spend your Saturday night.

After a week that seemed to be made up of one bad event after another, all you wanted to do was relax. But, of course, the cosmic forces of the universe decided they weren’t done beating you up just yet.

And so here you were,

Assigned to a case where you’d have to guard the agency you worked at

For twelve hours

With the man you can’t stand.

“For fuck’s sake, can you stop tapping your goddamn thumbs so loudly?” His gruff voice snapped you out of your own thoughts.

“Can you mind your own fucking business at least once this evening?” You snapped back.

“If you weren’t so annoying, maybe I’d be able to.” He answered.

You crossed your arms over your chest , pushing your breasts up. Bakugou sat and stared for a moment wondering what the soft flesh would feel like, but averted his gaze before you could notice. “Even your thoughts seem annoying.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I’m watching you sit here and think to yourself and it looks like you’re even annoying yourself.” He elaborated. You scoffed

He was absolutely right, and your own thoughts were annoying you. But you would rather die than give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right. How dare he think that he-

“I’m right, aren’t I?” The arrogant tone in his voice cuts through you like a knife.

“You know, you are so fucking arrogant.” You snapped.

“It’s not arrogant to be good at something and know I’m good at something.” He snapped back. “And I just so happen to be great at a lot of things.”

“It absolutely is arrogant to-” You stopped, remembering that it’s useless to fight with him. You looked at the clock on the wall. Six hours to go. “Whatever,” you groaned. “At least one of us can fly, and it’s not you!” At this point you were just being petty but at least it felt good to-

“You’re just hovering, it’s not that impressive.”

“God, do you have to undermine everything that I do?”

He let out a smug laugh.

“What’s wrong princess? Deku not hitting it right?”

That was it. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“We broke up last week.” You answered coldly. “And don’t fucking call me that!”

Bakugou bit back a bitter laugh. Who says he had no self control

“No kidding…” He marveled to himself. “No wonder you’ve been so cranky.” You rolled your eyes so hard that you’re surprised they didn’t pop out of their sockets. “Hey don’t be a fucking brat with me. I told you he didn’t deserve you! And you-”

“Didn’t listen,” You finished for him. “I know. I know I didn’t. But can you really blame me when you followed that with ‘Maybe if you let a real man dick you down you’d open your fucking eyes a bit more.’” Changing your voice to mock his as you quoted him.

“That offer still stands by the way.” He stated, crossing his arms over his chest to mirror you.

“You?”

“Me.” He stated. You stared at him in disbelief, although you could have help but let your eyes wander down his toned arms and back up to his sharp facial features. His gaze pierced into you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

He grinned.

“I’m not looking so bad anymore, am I babygirl?”

“I fucking hate you-” You were cut off when he moved closer to you and placed a hand on your inner thigh. “Don’t touch me-” you started, but the words died on your lips when his hand slid up to play with your clit. You but your lip to keep silent, determined to keep your façade.

“Mhm, sure you do.” He kept working at your cunt, determined to get you to crack. You refused. “God, you are so fucking prideful.” He complained. You swore he knew exactly what to say to piss you off.

“I’m prideful? I’m not the one who-” he pushed your panties to the side and slid his middle finger into you, which caused you to let out a moan that would put a camgirl to shame.

Got her. He thought to himself.

“If you could only see yourself right now.” He mumbled against the skin of your throat before biting into the skin there. “A desperate slut begging me to make her cum. His free hand slid up from your clothed breast to wrap around your throat. "Isn’t that right?”

You were so overwhelmed that all you could do was nod.

“More.” you mumbled.

“What was that babygirl?”

“More.” you whined. He smirked against the skin of your shoulder, adding another finger and curling them upwards. “Fuck.” Your hand instinctively reached up to claw at his bicep, determined to keep him in place as he fingered you until you soaked the floor beneath you. He slid in a third finger, slowing his speed to let you feel the stretch. Your nails raked down the flesh of his arm, red marks being left in their wake. Bakugou grinned widely as he watched you fall apart beneath him. His eyes watched you like a wild tiger watched its prey before striking.

“Deku’s never seen you like this before has he?” He chuckled. Your blood would be boiling right now if you weren’t so desperate for him to rearrange your guts. His movements started to slow. Anger flooded you when you realized that he wouldn’t do anything until you gave him an answer. You shook your head and frantically clawed at him to move again. That wasn’t good enough for him. He moved again slowly. Just enough to make you miserably needy for him.

“No.”

“What’d ya say, baby?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Come on, use your big girl vocabulary. Full sentences. I’m not giving you what you want until you give me what I want.” Bakugou’s thumb languidly brushed over your clit.

“No.” You groaned. “No, he never-” You cut yourself off with a moan. “Izuku never fu- fuck that’s good- he never fucked me like this.” You were babbling, but Bakugou made no attempt to stop you. “It was so different with him that I-” He sped up, intentionally keeping you on the edge until you spilled all your secrets to him. It was sick, and you couldn’t stand him. But none of it mattered when it felt so right. “God, right there- I thought I was broken for a while.” You continued, caught between a dry chuckle and a low moan. “Now will you please shut up and rearrange my guts for me? The right way?”

His grin spread so wide it was almost sadistic. Katsuki quickly pulled your panties and skirt off, and flipped you over with a hand fisted in your hair.

“With pleasure.”

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #ns/fw #pronouns used: she/her/hers

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bilgisticallykosher · 3 years

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Superheroes in Retail

Aka Oh god I am the maple syrup drowned enemies

Masterpost | AO3 link

Hey, remember that time Lime posted a fake fic titles meme, then I accidentally posted half of this as a reblog because tumblr mobile bamboozled me and then I said I'd post this after no content November but then didn't realize December was now?

Warnings: Blood and bruises.

Word count: 1,140

Virgil had definitely seen and experienced a lot in his short life. He'd crashed a local parade in costume, spreading a wave of chaos and fear throughout the city, block by block. He'd faced down a horde of black Friday shoppers the day after an accidental two-for-one coupon had been printed in the circular. He'd even come in third place in a talent contest that he hadn't even entered in the first place.

But now, well, he was in a Situation. It deserved the capital letter. He'd just been innocently stocking shelves, on the late shift as usual, trying desperately to fade into the background so customers wouldn't bother him, to no such luck. He visibly cringed as he heard the damnable automatic doors open and someone call out to him.

"Ex...cuse...me..." the customer wheezed out. Virgil sighed to himself, assuming that this idiot had run all the way to the store to get his late night bulk maple syrup that was on sale to put onto his breakfast foods, or use as moisturizer, or chug shots of, or drown his enemies in, or whatever. Maybe he'd just ask Virgil several times where an item was, while staring the giant signage for said item dead-on.

He plastered on his best customer service smile, which he was proud to say was not that good, and turned.

"Hello, how may I help oh my god." And there, clutching onto the caution wet floor sign (which, it wasn't, he had no idea why they left it by the entrance,) was one of his mortal enemies.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but it was one of the heroes that was always trying to best him and save innocent people and prevent him from doing his evil deeds and blah, blah, whatever they were always prattling on about. He knew, in fact, that it was SuperNerd, or whatever he was actually called, because he was still in costume... mostly.

The right arm of his suit had been completely torn off. On top of that, he was bleeding from several different cuts, and had a big gash on his leg. From what he could see of his face, it looked like he had a nasty bruise, too. He had bruises other places, and looked generally roughed up, and his costume frayed.

Virgil gulped. Okay, so there was no way he knew who he was. Even if he did, Virgil had no impact on why he was so beaten up right now. This was just a coincidence. An unfortunate coincidence. A very big, bad, unfortunate coincidence.

He idly wondered where Dudley Do-Right and His Royal Whineness were, and damn, that was a good one he'd have to remember that for another time. The trio was almost always together, whether staking out a place, or working together to defeat him, and wasn't that a little overkill, he was only one guy. Although, it was also kind of flattering that they needed the three of them to take him down...

But in the meantime, his harrowed hero was still there, starting to slump over where he stood, one eyelid flickering, ready to close. So, Virgil did the only thing he could think of.

"Hello, sir, welcome to Kalmart, I see you're in need of some assistance," his customer service smile, already strained, twitched a little as he watched the hero jolt at his loud, firm tone. He tried to ignore his instinct to jump behind a building to protect himself from what was sure to be an incoming attack, but then immediately gave in to that instinct as he ducked into the next aisle to grab the first aid kit that was hanging there on the wall.

He speed-walked back, and all but shoved the kit into his hands as he repeated the 'difficult customer mantra' to himself. CALM; be Calm, Apologize, Listen, and get a Manager.

"I was assaulted in a villainous attack, while attempting to protect the city, and am in dire need of medical assistance." If he weren't so sure he was out of it, Virgil would have sworn that he was being deadpan on purpose.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath in and out. Calm. "I'm sorry that you're inconvenienced." Apologize. "If you could describe your problem to me, then I could do my best to resolve it." Virgil watched as the hero blinked slowly, then his head lolled to one side, as he peered his eyes together, squinting at him.

"I'm sorry that that's happened to you, sir," Apologize again for good measure, "and rest assured, we'll make sure you get the medical treatment you need," Listen, "I'll just need to get my manager, he'll be more than happy to help you." Get. A. Manager.

"Wh-" But Virgil had already swiftly turned around and walked away. As he headed towards the breakroom, he stopped by the customer service desk where his manager was tiredly explaining to a woman that she couldn't get the product she wanted, because the factory had temporarily closed, therefore they didn't have any in the store.

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt," Virgil interrupted, not sorry at all, even as the woman glared at him, "but there appears to be a superhero bleeding out by the paper goods, if you'd like to take care of that." Remy leaned forward, peering past the shockingly long line considering the late hour, until he spotted the hero, still dripping onto the tile.

"Well, do you know when they're getting it in, then?!" She huffed, "I came all the way out, it was a forty minute drive, just for it, could you call me when it comes in?"

The effect was instantaneous, Remy stood bolt upright, already stumbling out from behind the counter.

"Bitch, why didn't you page me, this is important, I swear if you're pranking me, I'm moving you to the customer service desk for a year," he pulled out his personal store intercom, hitting an extension, and slammed the 'Sorry, we're closed' sign down on the counter. He ran, speaking into his device, calling for someone with access to an outside line.

Virgil shoved his hands in his pockets, continuing the leisurely stroll to the breakroom. He pushed through the door, then swung around to the phone, letting it close behind him. He picked up the reciever, punching in the extension for store-wide announcements.

"Maintenance," his voice was light and smooth, "please report to aisle ten for a biological spill, maintenance, aisle ten for biological spill, thank you." As he hung up, he knew Remy would probably get him back for that, but, he flopped into a chair, kicking his feet up onto another one, he decided it was worth it.

-----

Fun game, try and pick out which of these things are based on my real life job in a supermarket.

Taglist from the Repository and from anyone who expressed interest in the concept in the original post.

@demoniccheese83 @thatgaydemigodnerd @arya-skywalker @rainbowbowtie @aceawkwardunicorn @lookingforaplacetosleep @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @thefivecalls @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @just-your-typical-trans-guy @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @idont-freaking-know @entitydark @llamaly @psychosnowfox @picazos-angsty-typist @enby-phoenix @callboxkat

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #my stories #superheroes in retail #delimeful

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kaysayshey · 3 years

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lunch break || s. aizawa

Kay's Notes: Hey, y'all. I think this might be my first time ever posting my writing on Tumblr, so bare with me. I've been using mobile exclusively, and let's just say that my theme is going to be a work in progress. If there is anything you as a reader would like me to change in either tagging or formatting, please let me know! I'm always open to comments, suggestions, critiques, whatever. This work is edited from an OC x Aizawa fanfic that I am working on. I'll be writing more reader insert type works in the upcoming months, as I now have an embarrassingly long list of them.

Summary: Aizawa and Y/N decided to meet up for lunch. That sounds simple enough, right? Ha, wrong. Lunch for two turns into lunch for one.

Warnings: AFAB reader, NSFW, minors DNI. Non-established relationship, oral (f! receiving), praise, slightly insecure reader near the end. Reader is a hero and has a quirk, but it is not defined.

The hellions were too much. Administering the written portion of the final exam had Shouta questioning his choice in career path, if he was being frank. How some of his students had passed the entrance examinations was beyond him at this point, and the thought of grading them sent a chill through his body despite the day's heat.

Despite the impending horror that was Kaminari Denki's handwriting and subsequent answers, Aizawa had a small smile on his face as he made his way to Y/N's apartment. Their last encounter had him yearning for more, anything to learn more about the angel that had graced his presence.

How could he even describe it? She had been nothing like his expectations, instead defying them one by one. Snarky in the best ways, quick-witted enough to leave him holding back chortles. Powerful enough to keep almost any other hero on their toes. Gorgeous, too gorgeous. And she had admitted feelings to him? What was there left to say? He felt honored to be attempting, well, whatever it was they were calling their relationship. Kisses and lingering touches be damned.

"Meet me for lunch after the finals? I'd be more than happy to cook for you at my place."

And meet Y/N for lunch he would.

She had left her door unlocked, obviously expecting him. But when Shouta made his way through the foyer of her apartment, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen. What happened to lunch?

“Oh, Shouta…”

There was no chance in hell. He had to keep every muscle in his body taut so as not to sprint to her bedroom, the stiffening of his member almost instant. It took all of his willpower to casually make his way to her room, the door wide open.

That little minx. She was laid out on her bed completely bare, hair splayed beautifully beneath her. Her back arched as she rubbed slow circles over her clit, slick all the way down to her mid-thigh. Another breathy gasp escaped her; her eyes squeezed shut as she moaned out his name once more.

He couldn’t help himself from slowly making his way to the edge of her bed, unraveling his capture weapon as he walked. “Kitten, is this all for me?”

Y/N's eyes shot open immediately. Those incredible breasts were on display for him, finally. Her thighs clenched together over her hand, blocking him from viewing anymore of her dripping folds.

“I – I thought you’d be later,” she gasped, snaking her free arm over her chest.

“I’m glad I’m not.” The words came out in a murmur as he pulled his top off in one fluid motion, dark eyes taking in every inch of her form. Achingly slowly, he kneeled onto the bed, one hand creeping up her side, relishing in the soft skin beneath his fingertips. He moved to grasp her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his lust-blown gaze. He gently pressed a kiss to her lips, sighing when she responded so eagerly.

“Who knew I’d be having you for lunch, angel?” At his question, Y/N moaned, the very phrase sending goosebumps all over her body. The slightest heave of her breathing sent her chest up closer to him, and God be damned if he wasn’t desperate to pull every part of it between his lips.

“Sho-Shouta, please,” she stammered, her head rolling to one side of the pillow. He took that as an invitation to press his lips to her neck, nipping lightly at her skin, groaning at the sound of her voice. God, this was too much. He was suckling at her skin like a man starved, ravenous for her crying out for him. But he knew better than to push too far. He’d make her beg for it. Not just today, but for as long as he could get away with it. Until she couldn’t go a single day without pleading for him to fill her completely, to give in to her wanton need for them to become one.

“Easy, kitten. I’ll take care of you.” Shouta’s voice was low and gravelly as he moved further down her skin, lips endlessly exploring every part of her flesh. He stopped at her collarbone; another suckle that had her bucking her hips, leaving a lovely bruise in his wake. To her sternum, lazily licking between her breasts. Y/N heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair and subsequently whining when he wouldn’t move. A soft tug to his locks made him smirk, eyes flashing up, mesmerized by the expression on her face. Her eyes were half-lidded and those pouty lips were plump and parted. He could only imagine how it would feel to watch as her lips wrapped around his cock, to have those beautiful eyes staring up at him from where she was settled on her knees.

Finally, he allowed himself to wrap his lips around one perky nipple, giving it a quick suck before leisurely stroking it with his tongue. Shouta slid a hand down to gently push her thighs apart, anxious to feel her heat for himself. God, she was overwhelmingly wet. How could he keep himself from smiling when he knew he was turning her on so well? As he languidly continued to work his tongue around her breast, he inched a finger to her folds, chuckling softly when she arched at the touch.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” Shouta whispered the words, pleased when she gasped out as he rubbed a soft circle over her clit, the lightest touch to keep her on edge.

“Ba-baby, please,” she groaned, releasing her vice-like grip on his hair when he moved from her side to kneel at the edge of the bed. It was followed by a squeak as he pulled her by the hips to meet him, keeping her thighs spread for him to enjoy. The hums she emitted were low, interrupted by soft whispers, his name a prayer between her lips. But in Shouta’s eyes, her body was a temple, and he was here to worship it, eager to finally have a taste of heaven.

His tempo was torture, agonizingly slow. The up and down of his thumb over her clit kept her rolling her hips, wordlessly begging him for more.

And when she looked down, the smirk he gave her was brash, an arrogance she would never have expected to see on Shouta’s usually stoic face. But the moment he gave her one long, achingly slow lick from her entrance to her clit, she learned why he was so cocky. He knew that he was going to leave her breathless. He repeated the movement for what felt like forever, leaving Y/N running her hands through his hair once more. Those easy strokes evolved into Shouta focusing his attention to her clit, lapping at it greedily.

Shouta couldn’t get enough of her. The taste of her, the feeling of her hands keeping him exactly where she wanted him. The way she would moan out softly, following it up with a whine when his licks turned into soft sucks. He fervently slipped a finger inside of her, curving it as he slowly pumped.

“More, more, please.” Her mewls were desperate, and he chuckled against her folds, obliging her. The movements were deliberate, his pace steady as he continued to thrust into her, reaching the spot that made her groan. Looking up again, he was mesmerized by the carnal desire in her eyes, by the way she deliciously rolled her hips against him. And as much as he yearned to just take her then and there, Shouta kept his focus on her pleasure. He gradually increased the pace of his thrusts, continuing to suck on her swollen nub.

Her walls started clenching, and Y/N’s breathing grew more labored with every minute.

“Shouta, wait, I'm going to -” Her words were strangled in her throat, and he had no problem ignoring them. He wouldn’t wait. Not when she was writhing from his touch, from the way he devoured her. No, he wouldn’t stop, not when she was on the edge. This was what he had been aching for. Shouta added a third slender finger into her folds, groaning as she started to flutter around him. Her hands were gripping the bed sheets like she was afraid they’d fly away, and the movement of her hips was erratic.

He held one of her thighs down with his free hand and thrust into her furiously, knowing just how close she was.

“Oh my God, Shouta, I -”

“Come for me, angel.”

Her walls spasmed around his fingers, and those luscious hips lifted off of the bed, furiously writhing against his hand. Y/N’s moans were the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Shouta watched in awe as she came, keeping his pace consistent until she begged, pleaded for him to slow down, no more, please, Shouta.

Y/N shuddered on the bed, her legs finally closing together when Shouta laid himself next to her, gingerly running his hands through her hair. Gentle kisses against her cheeks, her neck, her forehead. God, she was sacred in his eyes. Those brilliant eyes fluttered open, and a radiant smile graced her lips.

“You’re absolutely divine, Y/N,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her skin was damp to the touch, but he wanted to feel it all the same.

“You can’t say things like that, Shouta. A girl just might believe it.” The words were light, but they held a hint of sorrow behind them. As if she didn’t think he’d ever mean it. He took her chin in one of his hands once more, begging her to meet his eyes. And she did, albeit it begrudgingly.

“Y/N, you are an angel on Earth, and I will make you believe it, whether you like it or not.” A devoted kiss to her lips. He’d remind her every single day until it was ingrained in her – she was incredible.

#kaysayshey #mha #bnha #bnha aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x female reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #hi i'm super anxious to post this #please let me know how you like it!#anywho #stream butter for clear skin #oh god why am i like this

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sofreddie · 3 years

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Friday Feature: July 16, 2021

Welcome to the Friday Feature, where every Friday I feature a different Fanfic Writer’s blog. This week’s Feature Blog is:

Link to Masterlist

About the Author:

Hello everyone! My name is Mert and I go by superfanficnatural on Tumblr. I started out writing right about when quarantine began and while I’ve been mostly on and off for a few months, I still love everyone that I have met on this amazing site! I write both male and female reader since I feel comfortable writing both and I write for a multitude of fandoms (just haven’t been able to post any other fandom than SPN aside from a few one shots). Spanning from random video game characters, to real people, to fictional characters, you can see my thirst goes far and wide haha.

I love it when people who read my stuff or even just people I haven’t interacted with send me a message so I can meet new people so please, don’t be shy and reach out!

Author’s Fave Personal Fics:

The Boy/Girl Who Cried Wolf

Summary: A wolf hunt gone wrong results in an investigation. When things begin to not add up, will you be the girl/boy who cried wolf?