#booka writing

[booksooks]

𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝑭𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓

Author's Note: i have raging baby fever. help me.

Content: hitting it from the back, creampie (?)/pregnancy talk/general baby fever

Word Count: 467

Summary: Hawks wants a baby. Obviously he's gotta fuck it into you first.

Keigo has baby fever so bad he can't stop pointing out any baby-related items whenever you go to any store together. He'll scoop up a pair of shoes and come bounding over to you with that boyish grin of his (because, let's face it, the chin scruff really didn't do much to dissuade the babyface allegations for the poor hero), and dangle them in front of your face like they were a treat.

"C'mon, aren't they cute? At least admit they're cute - so small I can hold them in one hand, look!"

And then he would almost reverently put the shoes into one of his palms, and look up at you like an excited puppy. It really is the pleading look on his face that does you in. Plus maybe the way he always looks so very briefly hurt when you roll your eyes playfully and tell him to put the baby shoes back because: you're not even pregnant!

Which is how you found yourself on all fours in your shared bed, face pressed into the pillows, hands scrabbling for purchase on the rumpled sheets as Keigo slams his cock into you as hard as he possibly can.

The sound of your muffled whimpers echo in the empty room, Keigo's grip on your hips tightening as he continues to thrust into you with reckless abandon. The bed creaks beneath your combined weight, the headboard slamming against the wall in rhythm with his movements.

"Just like that, take it just like that," he growls, one hand sliding up your spine to grip a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back roughly. "You're mine, all mine, and I'm gonna fill this tight little cunt with my cum until you're swollen with it."

His words are punctuated by the lewd slap of skin on skin, the obscene squelch of your dripping pussy as he drives into it again and again. His balls are drawn up tight against his body, and his stomach flexes with each powerful snap of his hips.

"Gonna breed you, knock you up good and proper," he pants, grinding his pelvis against your ass as he bottoms out inside you. "Get you all round and ripe with my kid, maybe two if i'm lucky. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being stuffed full of my kids?"

All you can manage is a weak moan, and maybe a nod. You're not really sure - your head is foggy with pleasure and sparks of electricity keep running up your body from your cunt.

His hand leaves your hip to roughly palm your stomach, already imagining you round and heavy, dependent on him and the perfect mother. His thrusts become erratic, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he feels you clenching around his cock.

"You ready to be a mommy?"

End Notes: Hope you enjoyed! god i have babyfever so bad someone help me

ABSOLUTELY NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK TO ANY SITE.

[b33lz36u6z]

imagine if in rainbow rowell's "carry on" trilogy they just say fanfiction tags instead of nursery rhymes

[thewildwaffle]

I had a thought about bookas last night

They are afraid of the dark. Since their fur basically looks like and glows like fire, they are light sources (of various brightness depending on their moods and health) wherever they go and thus don't really know what true darkness is.

Humans fear the dark because of the unknowns that may be hidden in its shadows. Bookas fear the dark because it IS the unknown.

[nottheweirdest]

Wait..... there is a tag where is says trilogy.... will there be another book after Fractured Reflections? Idk, I am just hyperfixating on you works rn, they are so good!!

There is!! Clean Slate is meant to be 1/3 and always has been. There are breadcrumbs that build to the third booka already in the first 😁

I am over the moon you're enjoying my stories!! This ask gives me so much joy 💖💖💖 if work would actually let me use my PTO I request maybe I could get some writing down for it 😅

[abysscronica]

At first, I didn't like Booka that much because he's so burlesque. But his role as the "I do and say what others do not have guts to" really grew on me! Especially in the last few chapters. I love his relationship with Birdie so much. If Heat is the supportive oniichan, Wire is that friend in the group you didn't talk to much but still got your back, Mohican (he has a name!) is assclown you fool around with, Booka is that loud crude pervert friend that annoyed you at first but you couldn't help but love him in the end.

The main reason I come here though is that Booka love big women.... and *eye Black Maria* his dream is about to come true.

That's right!! I didn't even think about that, now I gotta put in a scene where Booka sees Black Maria at least! 😂

And yess, you're right about all of them. ❤️ I'm so grateful that Booka conquered the heart of readers, he's such a fun silly brute to write!

[viasdreams]

oh they definitely will lose

how are you doing today??🪼

ahhh soz for the late response >_<

im pretty good tho!!! i got an A on my ecology exam so now i dont have to take the final!! but i am sicker than a mf dog rn so thats not great 😞

great for yall tho because if im in bed all day, all i can do is write 😬

how r u booka!

[streetlamped]

IM SO SORRY BUT WE CANNOT LET LUMITY BEAT THE LITERAL LITERATURE CHANGING BEST SHIP IN THE WHOLE OF LITERAL GREEK MYTHOLOGY?

Does Lumity have multiple real booka dedicated to them? Have they changed literally the way how writers write love? No.

#votepatrochillies

[leatahleigh]

Devil's Peak: Book Review

About The BookA  crime fiction novel, Devil’s Peak, is about a drunkard of a cop who just got handed over a massive case – will he not mess up? A father who just lost his son and is out for revenge – vigilante or murderer? A prostitute who gets messed up with a drug cartel – will she live to tell the story? In the end, all these stories turn out to be intertwined. Writing styleThe book is told…

[nr1chaedickrider]

i love your writing booka🫶 the tzuyu angst was so good but ouch??

thank u so much!!!

hoped you enjoyed reading it even tho its sad!!! <3

[vickyvicarious]

I happened to read an MCU daemon fic the other day, and it gave me an idea:

Part of the torture by the Ten Rings involves severing or killing Tony's daemon - probably the final straw before he 'agrees to do what they want' and sets his escape/revenge plan in motion. However, when he builds the Iron Man armor it (perhaps increasingly with each new upgrade) takes on the role of the armored bears' armor - he is forging himself a new soul. Rebuilding himself in more ways than just the arc reactor.

It just seems like the perfect fit with all the "I am Iron Man" emphasis, especially if there is no panserbjørne equivalent on Earth in this AU, so no one else really understands how much he means that (hence Natasha's assessment split between Iron Man/Tony Stark, or Pepper trying to get him to give the armor up). They simply think he has lost his daemon and is maybe less trustworthy/stable as a result (and he probably does too, for a good while at least).

This could also be a good lead-in to a FrostIron or IronThunder fic, if maybe dwarves (or any other space race) take the armored bears' role, so Asgardians understand what's going on. Maybe not initially, but definitely after getting to know Tony.

[booksooks]

hihiii what do u think tomura x civilian reader would look like 👀👀👀

𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬𝑺 𝒀𝑶𝑼

Author's Note: HELLo! ty for the ask, i hope this was what u were looking for!

Content: Like... one? Death threat. You'll be fine. Lots of dialogue.

Word Count: 1430

Summary: Shigaraki decides he likes you.

The first time you ever met Shigaraki Tomura was at your local bookstore slash game shop. You were, as per usual for this store, weighed down with an armful of books, and you were about to make your way around a shelf to head to the checkout, when you stopped, intending to look at an interesting looking book. Instead, your foot collided with someone else’s, and you watched in horror as the person attached to the foot lost their balance and fell back on their ass. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You cried, immediately plopping your stack of books on a nearby shelf. You picked up the person, no, the man’s game cartridge, and put that on another shelf before you reached out your hand to help him up. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was putting my feet.” 

The man only glared at your outstretched hand, a black medical mask covering the lower half of his face. It did nothing, however, to hide the downright murderous scowl that contorted his forehead. His eyes flicked up to yours, red and full of hate. 

“It’s fine,” he spat out, but you could tell he was not happy with you, or the situation. He completely ignored your hand and stood up by himself, brushing himself off and snatching the game cartridge from the shelf you had put it on. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, trying to catch his eyes again, but he stubbornly kept his face ducked, which caused his hair to blur any noticeable features. “I’m really so sorry.” 

“I said it’s fine.” 

You bit your lip, hesitant, before you blurted, “look, I know we’re not supposed to use our quirks in public, but if you’re hurt I can take care of it for you. It’s the least I can do.”

That gave the man pause. His scowl dropped, and although he still didn’t look at you, he wasn’t actively trying to run away from you. “You can?” 

“Yeah!” You chirped, a bit too loudly, and you winced. “I-I mean, yeah, I can. Where does it hurt, I’ll help.” 

You saw him swallow, reach a hand up to scratch at the base of his neck, and then he stopped. He held that hand out to you, shaking ever so slightly, and turned it palm up. His wrist had the ittiest, bittiest bit of rug burn on the inside, it was nothing really. It would heal by tomorrow. But you had told him that you could help, so you activated your quirk and raised two fingers to wave above the wound. You didn’t even touch him, but he still flinched back, as if you were burning him.

Something in the back of your mind snorted at the idea of calling the tiny patch of raw skin, barely red, a wound, but you were nothing if not someone who followed through. Either way, it was gone in a moment, fading to pink, and then his wrist looked like it had never been injured. 

“Better?” You asked, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Unauthorized quirk use could get you in major trouble. 

The man made a face underneath the mask; the only reason you even noticed was because the mask itself wiggled slightly. “It itches,” he whined, using two fingers to scritch at the spot, 

“Yeah, that’ll go away in a sec.” You took a step back and grabbed your stack of books. “I’m really sorry again. Have a nice day!”

The only response you got was the feeling of his eyes trailing after you as you made your way to the front of the store. 

Over the next few months, you saw the man with red eyes again. And again. And again. And again. And one day, you figured he was trying to get your attention. You hadn’t known he was Shigaraki Tomura at first, not until your third or fourth encounter, when the features lined up just-so with the man you had seen on the news a few days earlier. 

Which spurred you on to do the stupidest thing you could possibly have, which was corner him. 

“Holy shit,” you hissed, shoving him into a back corner, behind several shelves and where no one ever really looked. “What the fuck, what the fuck, you’re that villain guy, Shigaraki Tomura, what the fuck! What the hell are you doing here?” 

Shigaraki, for the villain that he was, didn’t put up any fight as you practically bullied him backwards, his mask still over his nose and mouth. “Kind of surprised you didn’t recognize me earlier.” 

You furrowed your brows and looked at him incredulously. “You’re a little hard to recognize without that whole,” you paused, and made a general “covered” motion over your face, implying the hand that usually sat on his face. “You know?” 

Shigaraki shrugged. “The video games here are good.”

You dropped your hands and blinked at him. “This is… too weird. I should- I should be dead.” 

“I can still kill you if you want.” 

“N-No, it’s okay,” you insisted quickly, backing up. “I just… What? ”

“What ‘what’?”

You rubbed at your face. “I mean, what, why am I not dead, what, what do you mean the video games here are good, what on god’s green earth?” 

Shigaraki scratched at his neck, a habit you had noticed in a previous “innocent” meet up. “I mean I like the video games here. And you’re useful.” 

You nodded, pretending to understand. When it was clear that Shigaraki wasn’t going to elaborate, you shook your head in defeat. “How? ”

“Your quirk.” 

Oh. He had prodded you a bit more about it the second time you had met, and you had elaborated, thinking, ‘What the hell? What’s the worst that could happen?’ 

Well.  

“I see. Well um. Great meeting you, I guess.” 

“Wait.” Shigaraki shoved his hands in his pockets, awkward. You stopped backing away, knowing that your only chance of escape was dissolving like sugar in warm water. 

“Yes?”

“Join us,” Shigaraki said, looking directly at you. “We could use someone like you.”

You sighed and blinked at him, confused. “I-I have no reason to.” 

Shigaraki snorted and you were very suddenly reminded of the danger that was simply his hands. 

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” 

Shigaraki shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled beneath his mask. It wasn’t the most comforting look. “No.”

Which was how you found yourself joining the league. Actually, join was a strong word, it was more like you were on retainer when needed, or when not needed. It was really up to Shigaraki’s discretion. He popped in whenever someone was in need of healing, or when he was bored. Which, as the months passed, seemed to grow more and more often. 

And… well, you weren’t really afraid of him. Yeah, he threatened you often enough. But he never really seemed into it, nor did he ever follow through. So you entertained him, learned how to play his favorite video games with him, and even, on days when he was angry or frightened or just plain upset, he would let you read your favorite books to him. He would huff and pout, crossing his arms and kicking his feet up onto your coffee table, but he’d let you read without interrupting until you got to the end of the chapter, and then the flood of questions would pour out. 

He cared. You knew he cared, you could tell in the way he listened and took notes, remembering everything you said. He’d bitch about you bitching, but he wouldn’t let a problem linger around you for long, and you were never left wanting for anything for long. 

He never spoke up either, never admitted it was him leaving little gifts around your apartment for you to find. That was, unless, you went too long without mentioning it offhandedly. 

“How are you finding that new pan?” He would ask, not looking up from his Switch. 

“It’s fine,” you would reply, swallowing back any hint of a smile. “Food doesn’t stick to it like my old one.” 

“Good to hear.”

“Mmm.” 

And then you would move on. 

It was simple. It was quiet. Maybe society wouldn’t consider you a good person anymore, but you didn’t care. You lived a peaceful life, with people who relied on you, and made you feel needed. And the world’s scariest villain, Shigaraki Tomura, liked you. 

So yeah, you were doing pretty damn good, if you did say so yourself.

End Notes: i'm not sure how to feel about this one. anon, i hope you enjoy <3 feedback is always appreciated.

AO3 Link

ABSOLUTELY NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK TO ANY SITE.

[whosafraidofvirginiawoolf]

By the mid-1890s, Henry James's supernatural tales grew increasingly complex. In full command of his medium, he engaged in larger mystification—gave his readers so few "facts" that the tale seems suspended in a kind of glass jar: nothing can be added to it, nothing subtracted. Is the woman who tells the story a hysterical, jealousy-crazed creature? Or has she really seen a ghost and had some kind of supernatural experience? We will never know. The tale seems to be written in the tradition of Defoe: the facts seem right; in the end the reader isn't sure whether he has been with a ghost or a living person.

— Leon Edel in Henry James: Stories of the Supernatural; for an introduction to "The Friends of the Friends"

[thewildwaffle]

Speckled

“Mabruk, have you seen the new human yet?” The silvery tools clinked delicately on the tray as they were put down. The slumped figure that had been holding them straightened up from their work and sighed. “Which human? The new ones from half a partec ago, or the new new one from last solar cycle?” “The newest one!” The speaker, an easily over-excited booka sprang excitedly into the room, eager to share the latest news that had been spreading across the ship. His bushy fur had a strange effect of both muffling his footsteps and creating a rippling ‘whooshing’ noise as he moved. “They were supposed to arrive with Human Marius, but they apparently got held up with some last-minute medical testing. They got here about ninety moortiks ago, you need to come see!” Mabruk brushed back a flowering sprig from their face and stood slowly to carry their tray from the table they were working at and moved it next to the washbasin. They turned on the mixture of cleaning solution and water and began washing their hands, scrubbing at the speckled, woody skin. They took a moment to admire the light and dark patterns made by their bark. Mabruk didn’t consider themself to be overly vain, but, well… when you’re this pretty, it’s kind of hard. The cleaning solution felt nice, but they focused on making sure they didn’t absorb any. It wouldn’t have been that bad if they had, but still, it wasn’t pure water and absorbing too many chemicals was bad for the bark. Satisfied that they were clean, they turned to grab the tray to wash it as well, but the booka had jumped up on the counter and had shut off the faucet.

“Sarni, what are you doing? I’m not done.” The Booka stepped towards them and pushed them toward the door. “No time, you can finish washing up later. You neeeeeeeed to see the new human!” Mabruk took a step to the side and away from the counter, causing Sarni to lose his balance and fall back to the floor. Mabruk might have felt bad about that, but the Booka had no problem landing on his feet, leaving Mabruk to return to cleaning up. “We’re on a ship set for a two partec exploratory mission. There’ll be plenty of time to meet the newest human. This tray on the other branch,” they held it up and twisted it for emphasis, “Needs to be taken care of now before the old clay samples dry up.” Mabruk’s movements were slow, or well, they may have felt slow to Sarni, but for a dappled toanaktree, they moved at quite a reasonable speed. Finally finished, Mabruk set the tray onto the drying rack. “Yes! Let’s go, let’s go!” Sarni all but bounced impatiently. Mabruk sighed. They’d have to go along eventually, Sarni was never one to give up on things like this, but it was always just a little bit funny to see how worked up they could get him by being “slow”. Though Mabruk would never admit that that’s what they were doing. Instead of turning to the door, they stepped toward their food storage box. “Mabruk!” Sarni whined, fur ruffling and turning two shades darker. Mabruk smiled coyly as they pulled out a nutrition orb and squeezed it, allowing the nutrient-rich juices to seep down their arm. It didn’t even get to their elbow joint before it was completely absorbed. Stars. They were more dehydrated than they thought. They rubbed at their arm, tracing the lighter brown stripes and speckles that patterned their bark. It must have been longer since their last break than they thought. With that done, there were no more reasonable excuses to delay. After a bit of insistent tugging from Sarni, they were off down the main corridor. Mabruk’s mind wandered as they watched their booka companion nearly bouncing off the corridors. What’s so important about the newest human anyway. They’d met plenty of humans in the past few standard solar cycles. They seemed to Mabruk to be a friendly enough species. Strong, sturdy, very handy to have around. They had a lot of strange quirks about them, granted. New ones of which were being discovered and recorded every quarter. But there was no denying that they as a race had become nearly essential components of every crew in the Galactic Confederation. Still, Mabruk thought as they tucked a few stray vines back from their face, it wasn’t nearly as big a deal as it used to be to get a new human on the crew. As it was, they already had had seven. Three of which were still stationed here, not including this newest human. They turned the corner and Sarni paused and looked around. “What is it,” Mabruk asked after a moment. The booka’s tail twitched. “Uh, hold on. I thought they’d still be here.” “Where, here in the middle of the hall?” “Well, everyone was talking to them here earlier. They must have moved on.” “Evidently.” Sarni’s tail flicked and a few faux flames rolled off the tip. “Well, we probably would have made it if you hadn’t been so slow, you overgrown scratching post.” Mabruk chuckled. “I’m not slow, I had work to do.” “You were being slow on purpose. You always do that.” “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mabruk smiled, but seeing Sarni’s fur darken to a deep orange, they headed for the adjacent hall. “Come on, I’m sure they’ve probably moved on to the cafeteria.” As it turned out, that’s exactly where they had gone. Mabruk and Sarni approached a small group at a table. They could see Human Fatima standing near the middle. She’d been on the crew the longest out of all the humans as head security officer. Mabruk, as well as everyone on the crew had a deep respect for her. She’d saved everyone’s life at least two times since she’d been stationed here. Of course she’d be here to help make the new recruit feel welcome and make introductions. “Mabruk, you’re here!” Fatima looked over and her face broke into a dazzling smile the way only humans can do. “Did Sarni find you after all? Where is he?” As if to answer, Sarni jumped up on the table with a smug smile on his face. “I did,” he stated proudly as if this was some grand feat he had achieved. Mabruk shook their head gently as they approached. Krend, a grib who was part of the engineering team shuffled aside to make room. “Human Elise,” Sarni started before Fatima began introductions, “this is who I was talking about earlier. This is Toanaktree Mabruk. Mabruk, this is Elise. Look, she looks like you!” Mabruk thought he saw Fatima frown, but quickly forgot when they were able to actually get a better look at the new human named Elise. They were stunned. Sarni was right. They did look alike. Well, apart from the fact that she was a human, not a toanaktree. But her skin- they knew humans came in a range of shades and tones, but they’d only ever seen, only ever heard of humans coming in solid colors. They didn’t know humans came in spots! Which is exactly what Sarni exclaimed immediately after. “Sarni, that’s… uh, you can’t just… that’s not…” Fatima stammered and looked apologetically between Elise and Mabruk. The new human smiled shyly and nodded. “That’s alright. I, uh, not all humans do, well,” she glanced briefly at Fatima and back again, “well, obviously not. It’s not super common. I do because I have… it’s called vitiligo. It’s where some of the cells in my skin that produce melanin don’t work. That’s why I was late. The Medical Administration Board wanted to run a few extra tests and double-check that I was going to be okay. They didn’t know about it before.” She took a small breath and shrugged. “I am. Okay that is. It’s not life-threatening and it’s not contagious, it’s just how I am.” Mabruk continued staring. Elise looked down and stroked her hand. “I… back on Earth I would sometimes wear makeup to cover up, especially on my hands or face, but…” she looked up suddenly, her shoulders back and a soft smile on her face. “I decided not to anymore. I’m in space, for crying out loud. This is who I am. This is how I look.” “You’re beautiful!” Mabruk blurted out. Everyone looked at them and so they continued. “You are. On my planet, many toanaktree and nidabu grow bark with one color, or two but it usually only manifests as a gradient up into the new growth,” Mabruk motioned to their own younger branches and sprigs, “but there are some, like me, I’m what’s known as a dappled toanaktree, I mean, there are others and different varieties with many different patterns and colorations, but among my people, they are considered extremely handsome.” Mabruk ignored Sarni who sniggered something about vanity under his breath. “I have never seen a human with such coloration before, but… well, you’re absolutely beautiful!” The smile Elise gave could have melted the ice caps of Kiribi. “Thank you. Your name is Mabruk, right? You look great too.” Mabruk smiled. So did Sarni, but his grin was near-on giddy.

[lalis-fandom-stuff]

Ok but if no one adapts The song of Achilles and Circe by Madeline Miller into musicals and/or animated movies then what's the point!?

[halfblood-demigods]

So I just had an idea about a story I really want to write and I want to know if any of you think this is a good idea.

So I want to write about a “young” girl (probably around 4th grade) set now.

I have 2 little sisters and the older of the two just started getting into chapter book and I realized how dayed most of middle grade/young reader chapter books are. They are almost all set in the mid 2000s and life for a kid is very different nowadays, eith the internet and everything.

Would y’all want to read a story like that?

[omoghouls]

I keep saying I need to write

But here I am

Not writing😤