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xoxoavenger · 1 year ago

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How You Get The Girl

pairing: Pope Heyward x Fem!Reader

summary: Broke your heart, I'll put it back together I would wait for ever and ever And that's how it works That's how you get the girl

word count: 1752

warnings: none

1989 masterlist main masterlist

"Are you insane?" She asks, blinking at him. He's shaking, freezing from having run to her house in the rain. But this couldn't wait. He risked getting grounded forever for sneaking out just to see her.

Y/N cannot believe Pope Hayward is at her door.

"Can I come in?" He asks. Besides the fact that it's freezing, he also knows he needs to talk to her before the police release the actual story of where he was, or even before the town gets word of the Pouges being back. He knows it'll be worse if she finds out he's back before he can see her.

"Where the fuck did you go?" She yells. Instead of letting him in, she walks out and pushes him. He stumbles back a few steps, and she follows. She's starting to get wet from the rain, but by the look on her face he guesses she can't tell. They're standing so close; every nerve in his body can feel her proximity.

"I didn't mean to leave, I swear, especially after everything that happened," He tells her quickly, but she's already talking over him.

"Everything that happened? Really? You mean how you finally asked me to be your girlfriend after months of dates and cuddles and kisses and me waiting for you to make a move, just to fuck off to God knows where without telling me?" She's rightfully pissed, and now they're both getting soaked from the rain that will not let up. There must be a hurricane incoming.

"I know, I should have said something before I left, but I didn't think I'd be gone that long. But we got stuck on an island, and then kidnapped, and I swear I would have been here earlier except my parents are freaking out and didn't want me to leave." She's shocked into silence as he talks, because she had never thought that Pope was actually stuck on an island while he was gone. "But I wanted to tell you that I'm back. Before word gets around." They're silent for a moment, both staring at each other and blinking the rain away.

"What the fuck?" She finally says, and before Pope could defend himself any further she walks forward and hugs him tightly. He's confused, because a second ago he was sure she was going to slap him, but he wraps his arms around her and takes it in.

"I missed you." He whispers, pulling her as close as he can. Their bodies are wet and they're both colder than shit, but it feels too good to be with each other.

"I missed you too." She says, pulling back. She's glad for the water running down her face, making the tears blend in. "But I can't be with you."

Her words break Pope's heart.

He watches wordlessly as she walks away, back into her house without looking over her shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" She asks as she opens the door to Pope only a day later. It's not raining today, just gloomy and humid. It made his hair more frizzy than usual, sticking out widely.

Pope is glued to the spot, only able to blink at her.

"Hello? Pope, are you okay?" She asks, waving a hand in front of his face. He shakes his head before focusing.

"I'm not just giving up on us." He blurts out, causing Y/N's eyes to widen.

"I thought I made it pretty clear yesterday that I couldn't do that again." She frowns, because it hurts her too. She doesn't want to end things with him, but she doesn't have much of a choice. He doesn't know what she had to go through, how worried her friends were when she stayed home from everything, even school for a couple days. She had been so worried about Pope, until someone brought to her attention that they probably ran away.

And it broke her heart.

"I also wanted to bring you this picture. I framed it." He passes a picture of them at the beach, one Y/N took on the day he had officially asked her to be his girlfriend. She had taken it from a high angle, Pope's arms around her waist visible, his lips pressed to her cheek. She had her hand holding his chin, her face frozen between a smile and a laugh.

It was the picture she had cried over, the one stuck on her phone while it was pressed to her chest. It was the first one she deleted when she had the thought that he had to of run away. And here it was, in Pope's hands, framed.

She didn't know what to say.

"I just, I wanted to explain myself." He tells her, and she finally looks up at him.

"I thought you did that yesterday." Her heart is racing. She wants it to stop, wants him to stop, because she can't take this anymore.

"I did, but I wanted to give you the full story." She turns to let him into her house, trying to take a deep breath when his arm brushes past her.

"This doesn't mean that we're getting back together." She says as she shuts the door, not looking at him. In the back of her mind, she can feel the doubt, but she can't bring herself to question it too hard. She doesn't want to know what it means if she doesn't fully believe herself, the same way she doesn't want to think about what it would mean for her and Pope if she kept her word.

"That's okay." He says, and her heart flies a little higher because he sounds like he's actually okay with it, despite saying that he wasn't going to give up on them. Maybe, for him, the two aren't mutually exclusive.

After a couple weeks of Pope coming over, Y/N knows she's losing the battle with herself.

Pope hasn't even confessed to anything. He hasn't said anything about them being together since he came over with the picture, hasn't asked her how she would feel about the two of them getting back together. They've simply just been themselves, a pair of feelings that stay in the dark. It all comes to a head when Pope spends the night accidentally and she wakes up in his arms, head on his chest and feeling the most relaxed she's felt since the day on the beach when they fell asleep in the sun, warm and at peace.

She can't take it, the feeling she knows all too well that makes her heart race. She rolls over and pretends that it didn't happen, hoping that Pope isn't awake. He doesn't even have the decency to pretend like he was asleep when she leaves his arms, instead sitting up on an elbow. It's quiet as she ignores him, eyes squeezed shut in a silent prayer that he'll think she rolled over in her sleep.

"I can't do this." He says it softly, as if by not yelling it the words won't break her heart. It's enough to get her to turn back and look at him.

"What are you talking about?" She asks, her voice in an equal whisper. She knows what he's saying, but can't bring herself to let him go.

"You told me you didn't want to be with me, and I respect that. But I can't do this; I can't hold you in my arms and then watch you turn away. I know you're afraid of getting hurt again, and I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but I promise I will never leave again. I would never put you through that again." He sounds so sincere, she can't even begin to think about how much it took him to get the words out.

He knows about what she went though when he left. During a late night, she had confessed how much she had struggled, how much she had hurt when she learned he was missing. He apologized endlessly, and she knew by the look on his face she had broken his heart.

"Pope," She doesn't know what to say, which is fine because she's pretty sure she would cry if she did try to get anything out.

"I want you, Y/N. And not just in a friend way. I want to be the one you fall asleep with at night, the one you wake up to. I want to put your heart back together and hold it so tight that no one will ever be able to break it again." He can see her face, see the hesitancy, so he continues before she can cut him off. "I'll wait. If you don't want to jump into anything, I'll wait. I'll be here as long as it takes. But if you give me the word, if you could just tell me that you want me too, or will want me in the future," He doesn't know how to read her now, and he's worried he's gone too far.

It scares her, what he's saying. It scares her to fall for him again, to somehow fall even deeper this time. She doesn't know if her heart is capable of it, doesn't know how she can trust him.

But then she thinks back to the beach day, thinks back to the feeling of being in the clouds when he had finally asked her to be his. She thinks back to him recounting his days on the island, how he told her that he had thought of her so often the Pouges banned him from saying her name. How hard it was to fall asleep, how he would pretend he was with her just to get through the night. And sure, she could reject these words. She could say she doesn't care, that she thinks he's lying. But she knows he's not. She knows he's telling the truth. And she does care. She cares about him so much it hurts.

"Okay," It's so quiet that she thinks Pope may have missed it, but the way his eyes widen makes her smile so big she's sure her jaw will be sore. "I want you too, Pope." The words aren't even out of her mouth before he's tackling her, squishing her against the bed as their laughs create a perfect harmony in the air.

And then he's kissing her, and she wonders why she had ever doubted him in the first place when he kisses her like she's the only thing in the whole world that matters.

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler

#pope heyward x reader #pope heyward #pope heyward imagine #obx #obx imagine

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ciaossu-imagines · 11 months ago

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Could you do Bleach and Host Club? With any character of your choosing because I love them all to various degrees.

Of course I can, my lovely anon! Thank you so much for sending in the request and I hope you'll enjoy the headcanons!

Okay, I feel a little bit like I'm cheating here, since this is the second AU set in a high school setting but I'm setting this AU firmly in the same universe as Ouran High School Host Club. It still takes place at Ouran Academy. It's been a long time since Tamaki and the other Hosts have graduated and honestly, the Host Club became a sort of school fixture even after they left, a tradition of the school. However, in the past couple of years, the club became abandoned because of lack of student interest in becoming 'hosts'.

The Academy has new headmasters this school year though. Shunsui is the new Headmaster, with Jushiro being his Deputy Headmaster. Shunsui, being the man he is, laments the lack of what used to be such a fun tradition and takes it upon himself, with Jushiro's blessing and support, to reinstitute the Host Club.

It's how he goes about it that's rather amusing though. Since there was still a real lack of student interest among the males in becoming Hosts, Shunsui told his teachers that certain male students, the ones selected by the teachers and the Headmasters, who received consistent detentions would now get a choice - they could face further detentions and possible suspensions, or they could choose to become Hosts for the Host Club.

While the idea seemed rather…stupid as one particular teacher put it to most of the staff, they all begrudgingly agreed to it and act upon the new rule, especially since they all know that neither Shunsui or Jushiro will give up on their idea, especially because it seems to amuse both of them greatly.

The first student to become a Host is Renji Abarai. He did get frequent detentions for uniform violations and fighting, almost all of them given to him by the Japanese teacher Byakuya Kuchiki…and it might have been Byakuya who made sure he was the first one sacrificed to this new rule. A little bit of it might have been Byakuya's own seeming dislike of the boy, especially given how close the boy was to Rukia Kuchiki, Byakuya's younger sister. Renji gets deemed the 'Bad Boy type' and honestly, he's pretty popular as a Host, though he really doesn't much like being one. The rare times he seems to really be enjoying the club is when Rukia comes around and spends time with him.

Renji is quickly joined by Ichigo Kurosaki, who does receive frequent detentions for uniform violations, tardiness, skipping school, and getting into fights. You think with all that he'd be a 'bad boy' type as well but it's decided there can't be repeat types inside the club and he gets branded as the 'Athletic type' due to his outstanding performance in athletics and prior place on a couple of the school's sports teams. He was really pissed off about even being in the club at first but kind of mellows out to it. He makes a show of not really caring about the club or his other Hosts but the truth is he makes friends out of most of them, gets along well with most of the girls who comes to see him, and besides, his best friend Chad was recruited at the same time as the 'Foreigner type' and his other good friend Orihime comes to see them often so there are some perks to this whole thing.

Yachiru takes it upon herself in the early stages of the club becoming a thing again to take her place as the Club Manager and she has so much fun bossing all the boys around and making them bend to her whims, which are many and mostly off the wall and insane but very fun. She makes her adoptive father, Kenpachi, the school's physical education teacher, give two students detention a lot so that she can rope them into the club because she wants them to be Hosts.

And that's how Hisagi and Kira both get forced into the Host Club on very trumped up detention charges, both of them will argue (and rightfully so). Hisagi is also head of the school's newspaper and also part of a band, so while he does actually enjoy his duties as a Host, he's always complaining about how much of his time the club takes up. He really wanted to be billed as the 'Rock Star type' but Yachiru shut him down and said it sounds too cool for him, so she dubbed him the 'Literary type'. It's actually rather fitting, especially since one of the things he does that makes him so popular with his guests is that he'll sometimes recite poetry to them, either from classic poems or his own original poetry and song lyrics.

And Kira says he got off lucky with the 'Literary type' moniker, given that Yachiru dubbed him the 'Emo-Boy type'. He's really very popular with a certain subsection of the school and actually gets to discuss a lot of really big issues with the guests who frequent him, from the meaning of life to what might come after death. He frequently complains about having to work so hard for the Club and about having to dress up and do all these insane ideas, but he's having a lot more fun with it than you'd suspect.

Other students forced into the club because of teacher's unfairly picking on them or because it made the teacher's themselves very amused include Hanataro Yamada, who ended up puking during Biology teacher Mayuri's lesson and promptly got punished severely by automatic enrollment as a host. The shy boy is probably the worst host, having troubles really talking to his customers and is so awkward the entire time. He just wants to go home and it is so clear but as the 'Shy Type' that's really his appeal to the customers who request him.

Chemistry teacher Kisuke, meanwhile, just thought it would be amusing to watch brilliant but lazy student Akon be forced to be a Host. Dubbed the 'Mad Scientist type' by Yachiru, Akon really just kind of sits around and smokes, doesn't cause too much trouble and goes along with what's expected of him. He wouldn't really be such a popular Host if it wasn't for the fact he's become known for helping his 'guests' with their homework.

Shinji volunteered for the Host Club. It sounds like fun to him and he really does like the ladies. Yachiru dubs him the 'Wild type' because he's very changeable, with his hosting style constantly changing to fit the customer.

Both Ikkaku and Yumichika earn their way into the club though, as both get a lot of detentions for fighting and mouthing off to teachers. They're the least popular of the hosts and mentioning that will piss them off, even though they claim to hate being forced to join the club. Yumichika dubs himself the 'Pretty Boy type' and won't hear anything to the contrary. When he does get customers, he's well known for doing their hair and makeup and giving them styling types. Ikkaku, meanwhile, gets branded the 'Delinquent type' and has a really hard time keeping his customers happy. He almost never gets repeat customers but gets a lot of the host-hopper types.

Jushiro keeps trying to find reasons to give Toshiro detention and Toshiro knows it. The other teachers and especially Rangiku try to help find reasons but Toshiro is wise to their game. He's not going to be trapped in such an infantile club and he's the model of perfect student behaviour just to prevent Jushiro's seemingly relentless desire to see Toshiro become a Host.

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lonelylonelyghost · 1 month ago

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I don't see many people talking about it here, but one thing that bugged me about Lovely Runner kdrama was how, despite starting with characters that have disabilities, the show actually didn't address or expand on the topic at any point except using it as a hook at the start.

****

Im Sol has been disabled for many years and uses a wheelchair to get places. She doesn't get a job at her dream company because they don't have a ramp (or just an elevator) that would lift her to the second floor. It's straight up discrimination, and it's so incredibly unfair, and she's rightfully pissed and upset.

But then she travels back in time and regains her ability to walk. And she's happy about it, obviously, but then the drama just... drops this subject. Later she gets a job at the same company that she failed at the last time, because she can walk now and is not inconveniencing the coworkers with her ridiculous demands like "being treated like a person" and "needing a bit more assistance with movement". And she doesn't try to persuade the company to make the building more wheelchair-friendly, she doesn't have any resentment for how they were treating her when she didn't have full-functioning legs, nothing. I mean I get that she might not want to be reminded of how she was before, but like

come on???

The only time that her former disability is remembered was when she saw a girl on the wheelchair on the streets randomly and was like, oh yeah, I remember that time when I was in the same state! Anyways, back to my life of being able-bodied and not having to think about it, ram-pam-pam😜!

****

Regarding Ryu Seon Jae, it's a bit different. At the start you, again, feel like he is struggling with depression and exhaustion from being in the entertainment industry for so long. Constantly in the limelight, under insane pressure to perform, looked at and analyzed by people who will no doubts crucify him if something, anything is not like they would want him to be. I think that anyone who's even remotely familiar with Korean entertainment knows what horrific price people involved have to pay every day.

We're told that he committed suicide.

I thought that the show has to say something about it.

And then it turns out that he wasn't depressed. He wasn't struggling with mental health, it was a serial killer that pushed him over the balcony. And it was unexpected, yes, good twist! But again. Why would you introduce this very painful and relevant topic, use it to gather an audience and then completely drop it in the next moment? (And I'm not saying that being targeted by a serial killer is all fun and games, but it's a different kind of struggle).

Later, with their time-travel shenanigans, this topic is completely abandoned too. It's almost used as a joke like, remember that time that I thought you were struggling to keep yourself afloat and wanted to kill yourself? But you were actually fine, even if you have been working in the industry with an alarming death rate, it was just a crazy taxi driver's fault lmao

Depression was used as a trick to mislead the viewer, which felt quite unpleasant, if I'm being honest.

****

Idk, maybe I'm overly sensitive snowflake or whatever, but it was cheap and it was dirty, and I didn't like it

#lovely runner #kdrama #tw suicide mention #disability #ghost.fm

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nutzworth · 5 months ago

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its 6/12! i HAVE to read homestuck! i didnt read ANY last month. oops

DAY 9: JUNE 12, 2024

STATS: read for 2 hours and 30 minutes pages read: 1903-2068. 165 pages. act 5!!!!!! page 2000! slur count: 13 + 0 = 13 silly count: 13 + 0 = 13 piss count: 2/3

THOUGHTS: ohhh my god. ok not much original thought here but by god did a lot happen

ok LOTS OF TROLLS. this time. but we will get into that later

johnkat is so funny. karkat just kind of sucks. i guess were getting into it now HES SO FUNNY! hes so mean. esp to his troll friends in act 5. he has no whimsy and no fun. he loves to lie. hes oppressed hes a MUTANT yet he wants to join the military. even though the military would KILL HIM for being who he is. ohhh my god. his clean ass room. his romcoms. he loves romcoms. he sucks at programming. he keysmashes in here WHATEVER. back to the kids

soooo much guardian lore... so much LORE. i love nanna and i love pa harley. and their upbringing THEYRE SO WEIRD.

(about pa harley) ADVENTURE!!!! oh my god. "She can handle it, he tells her. He believes in her." AHHHHHHHH!!!!!! HOPE PLAYER! i love the hope aspect im gonna go crazy in act 6 when jake is there. but right now? this is FOOD. im EATING IT UP!

michael guy bowman is so john egbert voice. its canon that dave strider is a whiteboy and that michael guy bowman is literally john egbert and thats IT.

dave is being so rude and mean to terezi. for the girl that said to john "WOW. MAKING FUN OF A BLIND GIRL? FUCKED UP!!!!!" she sure does turn a blind eye (LOOOL) to dave being like "yeah me and this guy? all up best friends. you know why? we can both see. and were going to this see party and theres so much shit and paintings and its great. to look at. and FUCK YOU. for being BLIND." and terezis cackling about her wonderful D4V3 1S TH1S YOU? drawings. theyre funny

[S] DESCEND!!!!!!!!! oh my god. what a flash. this would make me crazy if i was an upd8 reader. JACK NOIR IS INSANE. HE JUST KILLS EVERYONE! the music is sooo good too. it matches so well. its SCARY.

speaking of jack noirs destruction: ok here's more about wv. this is probably so surface level but it drives me crazy i need to restate it ok wv is a regular ass farmer. hes normal. the WAR comes. hes like GOD THIS SUCKS! he starts a revolution. he unites both sides. hes radical hes powerful and by god is he AWESOME. he faces jack noir. him and his big ass army. jack noir KILLS ALL OF THEM. ALL OF THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEYRE ALL DEAD! except wv. which hussie puts it in the recap "Jack then killed the entire rebellion army, sparing only WV?. Perhaps to leave a survivor to tell the story, or perhaps out of respect for a fellow mutineer. Only he knows." WHAT????? WHAT!???? OKAY and so wv is surrounded by his brethren. his friends. his army. ALL DEAD. and at the same time prospit falls to skaia. and out from it is johns dream self. and a PLUSHIE. OF JACK NOIR.

this is insane. its like humiliating. its awful. its like jack is laughing at wv's face. oh my god. anyway wv rips it apart and hes real for that. I LOVE YOU WV!!!!!!!!!!!

not to mention PM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! let me just put some badass images in here. so you know

SHES SICK!!!!!!!!!!!!! shes pissed off shes SO pissed off. she kills hb and uses his walkie talkie to call over jack noir. shes standing on that hill with the blood of jack's coworker flowing in the adjacent creek holding both the crowns covered in blood. she gets the promised package and SHOVES it in johns arms and storms off. shes PISSED OFF!!!! RIGHTFULLY SO! OH MY GOD!

and then the PACKAGE.... obviously you KNOW im crazy about the jake english cameo. but also....

this made me crazy. i like almost cried. oh my god. shes JUST DEAD. ON THE FLOOR. JOHNS SITTING THERE READING THESE LETTERS AND JADE IS DEAD!!!! IN FRONT OF HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sob. oh my god. and he sheds One tear. and then jack comes to kill him

i loooove how homestuck goes panel-heavy sometimes... along with the short "a [...] is [...]. [...], [...]." which makes no sense in writing. let me give you some examples

i love it. it makes the reading more poetic and slow. its like, make your own opinions on the subject matter. its matter-of-fact. its simple. its SAD. its like this event is so disconnected from everything were going in third person to describe it. its curt and its AWESOME. I LOVE IT!!!! i think if skaia had dialogue or narration or anything this is what it would sound like. it would give you pictures and a short description, and it would say "go fetch".

ok recap. not much but hussie says "Back in the meteor lab, John began the ectobiology session which appeared to have been prepared for him in advance by the guardians who had just been there." which i think is so cute. the guardians prepared it FOR him.... homestuck is truly a story about kids and the things that control/lead them. guardians/skaia/fate/each other/first guardians(bec, doc scratch). even the story itself. so awesome

THEN ACT 5!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the silly name for alternia translates to "turd odor fuckball" which is funny. and karkats silly name translates to "nookstain bulgereek" which makes sense

whats REALLY interesting to me is karkats parallels with dave. even in these first few pages karkat is SO SIMILAR to him. both slice their teasing names in half and say that they dont have time. theyre "Kind of a big deal, ok?". they have a need to seem "cool". karkat narration has the line "This was not the coolest thing you could have done just now." which threw me for a loop: i never thought of karkat needing to seem Cool. but he does he wants to. hes a leader. he pretends to be a leader. he doesnt want to show to sollux that he thinks highly of him cus he needs to seem COOL. i love karkat

alternia is a planet full of tragedy. they need to sleep in sopor slime to assuage the nightmares of "blood and carnage". theyre surrounded by so much evil and destruction that they need DRUGS EVERY NIGHT to be normal. auuugh.

honestly i pity gamzee waaaay more than i pity karkat. karkat has it good for all i care in the beginning. hes just not sharing his blood color. GAMZEE THOUGH? everyone thinks hes annoying. you can tell hussie writes him as if he's a joke; its clear hussie hates gamzees character and wants you to hate him too. but i cant. hes a hippie and an addict and a black boy. and i feel SO BAD that hes written like that. he could have been great if he wasnt in this situation :-( im sorry gamzee

rip sollux you would have loved reddit

karkat at the end of the karkat/sollux convo kills me. "hey i know we just bantered about how much we hate each other and stuff, but are we still friends?" hes so cute. are we still friends. yeah... yeah. and sollux is like "you say this EVERY TIME. are you joking" and karkats like "Yeah. Yeah im joking haha. Sure am" the poor guy. just wants friends THEYRE JUST KIDS!!!!!! SOB!!

i love terezi. shes so ANNOYING. and i love her for it. shes just fooling around all the time. she wants to piss people off. "Ohhhh karkat youre sooooo handsome and heroic!" hahahahahaha. she does NOT care. "But all of your scalemates are alive to you. ... At least you pretend to believe that to annoy people." SHES SO FUNNY! she gives NO fucks. i love how shes drawn too

then karkat comes in all like HEY TEREZI. IM THE LEADER!!!!!!!! FUCK YOU! what an asshole. but terezi dont care. you know what she does? "lol ok." and then "yeah the leader goes on this badass and seriously cool heroic adventure and hes awesome. and me (the second in command) gets to sit down and do nothing and be bored and its no fun" and karkats like "YEAHHH!!!! IM THE HERO! WOOOO!" and then it cuts to the actual game and terezis been fooling around with her gamey god powers. hahahahahahaha so awesome

okay thats it. i love aradia i saw like 2 of her. maaaybe ill read more this summer :-) bye bye thanks!

#me #nutzworth hs reread #WOO WOO!!! HAPPY 612! KARKAT VANTAS! TROLLS!#im getting really into putting pictures in these. i think it makes them more interesting on the eyes. tell me if you like them #it makes the posts a little long. but thats okay. theyre always long when its me #HEART! YAAY! BYE BYE!

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corhore · 1 year ago

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So… Zeb Wells totally intended on the kids actually being MJ’s and Paul’s biologically and chickened out (rightfully so, fucking idiot) at the last minute right?

Because in issue 24, Rabin has no idea the kids exist, nor that they’re in the bunker. In issue 25, it’s implied he creates them and the first person he meets when he attacks the bunker is one of the kids. And then issue 26 reveals he created them as a tracking beacon to follow MJ back to her universe, except he could already travel universes and follow and locate her at will way back in issue 21, BEFORE the kids were ever a thing. And the farm life that the “happy family” lives shows they were safe for years, not under constant attack/danger like we assumed, meaning MJ and Paul totally had time to *make* the kids the old fashioned way. Plus Rabin saying he made the kids look like them so they’d get attached more easily feels like some quickly made-up bullshit to justify why she’d stay with Paul if the kids were adopted, instead of co-parenting with Peter.

And in the MJ/Black Cat spin-off, MJ is repeatedly said to have vanished for six months, whilst issue 25 reveals she was gone less than one and her kids are referred to by a demon lord who has been told nothing about them - he just knows stuff because he’s a demon - as MJ’s progeny - not adopted, biological.

They changed it last minute to save his ass.

And then in issue 26 they have Rabin call Paul ��Your precious Paul” to MJ, have MJ defending a genocide enabler against Peter, which certainly seems intended to imply she loves him, especially when she compares the two, tells Peter she knows everything about Paul and tells him Paul has never lied to her (which he has, about many very big things, so gaslighting too now) and has MJ protesting “Spider-Man is not my boyfriend!” when Kamala calls him her bf. Yeah he definitely wanted to make his OCship canon and is pissed he wasn’t allowed (GOOD, fuck him).

Fucking idiot genuinely thought he could permanently split up Peter and MJ, remove the possibility of Mayday from canon for good and fans would be ok with it.

I think your giving Wells too much credit.

The truth is that he has NO plan for the kids or Paul. If he did then they would actually get explored and fleshed out in the book. The fact that Paul and the kids have had zero spotlight other than one issue (and the girl having two names cus the editors/Wells didn't remember her name) is evidence that Wells didn't care. Hell they only appear in like 7 issues across 27 issues most of which they do nothing.

From the very beginning he didn't care at all about the Kids/Paul nor MJ. He just wanted to writer a Spidey book with Peter working with a "reformed" Norman and be with Black Cat. Paul and the kids was just a dumb way to get MJ outta the way.

The truth is you can make this premise MJ dating another guy and adopting kids good. You can, but the execution has to be fucking spot on especially with MJ, but Wells not only isn't a good enough writer to pull that off, but he didn't care about the premise to begin with. Paul and the kids are nothing characters. They are props. Literal props to stir up controversy and to make people angry.

What were left with is the kids are gone, Paul is still around and MJ is sad. Are they still a couple? Were they ever even in love? What happens to them now? All questions everyone wants (good) answers to, but Wells doesn't care to answer for at least several months cus MJ isn't appearing in the book for the foreseeable future.

And then theres the legit textbook fridging of Ms Marvel a character whos appears in a whopping 12 pages overall.

Its legitimately insane how baffling poor this book is. This is career endingly bad. I fear Zeb Wells isn't writing another Marvel comic for a very long time after this.

Btw he's also writing Deadpool 3 and The Marvels.

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javasquats · 1 year ago

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Okay so, you may notice that a lot of the names have to to with god, directly or indirectly. Praising him, telling his goodness, receiving gifts from him. Tribal names are given very intentionally, and in a now vey Christianized context, very often have to do with god, in some way ascribing the blessing of the child to him. Sewuesedoo, it is good to thank god [for this child], Aondodoo, god is good [for giving us this child], etc.

Traditionally, names had more to do with the circumstances surrounding a child's birth rather than the child itself. An aunt on my mom's side is named "Nanier": "nan" = what, "i" = in this context being you plural (pronounced "ee"), "er" = to do/to be/to happen (pronounced "ay"). Altogether, it basically means "what did you (all) do?" or "what happened?" What happened was, back then, extended families lived in large compounds together with individual homes to a family/couple. But my grandfather pissed off one of his uncles (by flirting with said uncle's wife), and so he, my pregnant grandmother and my oldest aunt were kicked out of the compound. The family farm was quite far from the compound, so a small hut had been built out there for people to rest in if they got tired instead of going all the way home. My grandparents stayed there waiting for the uncle to calm down and let them come home, and it was there that my grandmother gave birth to my aunt. When her mom came by to see the baby, she was surprised to find them all the way out there, so she asked them "Nanier?" basically, "wtf are y'all doing out here???" and that's how my aunt got her name which is kind of hilarious.

A bunch of my aunts and uncles on my dad's side have names having to do with power struggle, because around the time my paternal grandfather was having a bunch of kids, he felt he was being cheated out of a position of power that was rightfully his. Mbadum: "mba" = they are (the m is basically silent so it's pronounced "ba"), "du" = to remove, "m" = again, to make it personal, so essentially "they are removing me (from the position I deserve)". Mlumun: "m" = to make it personal, "lumun" = to release, basically "I have left it", I guess when he gave up.

I can't remember all my maternal aunts' and uncles' tribal names off the top of my head, but by the time they got to kid number five (of eight!), they had more to do with god. Ngusonun: "ngu" = is (the n is basically silent, pronounced "gu"), sonun = looking after, "[god] is looking after".

Certain names used to be a lot more gendered, for example Doosuur is typically a girl's name but the cousin I have named that is a dude. A lot of names still are, like Dooshima, Adoo, etc. are still mostly girl's names. Ngutor, Tersoo, etc. are more masculine. It's not like taboo or anything, it's more like how you'd probably do a double take if you met a guy named Jane. Lots of other names are gender neutral though, Sughnen, Sesugh, etc.

The phonestics of Tiv aren't too complicated, although you may have noticed some silent letters. These are almost always at the beginning of words, and basically give the next letter some umph. Like the town of Gboko, the g is silent but it gives the b some extra umph to it that's hard to convey in text.

There are a BUNCH of homophones though which drives me INSANE. The words for yam, house/room, honey, and [one's own] body are all basically pronounced the exact same way and the only difference is stress and sometimes context. I grew up in America until I was ten, so my Tiv accent is abysmal, making it nearly impossible for me to say some of these things correctly, even thirteen years later (I will admit I kinda gave up after a couple of months because I was sick of my cousins teasing me about it, and only picked it up again when an older girl in boarding school found out we were the same tribe but I couldn't speak the language and then ONLY spoke to me in Tiv).

There are some words which basically mean the same thing but are used in different contexts. For example "zege" and "kehe" both basically mean "big", but "zege" conveys more size while "kehe" conveys more weight. Basically, you would describe a house as large (zege), but a dog as heavy (kehe".

Then there are words that don't have specifics. The word to describe food as being good is "nyoho", and although it's used more to describe sweet foods, there isn't really a distinction between sweet and savory. So you would describe the really good fried chicken you had for lunch and the really good cake you had for dessert with the same exact word.

One interesting little fact is what Tiv shares with Hausa. The word for church/worship is the same in both languages, "aduwa", and the words for school are very similar "makaranta" in Hausa and "manta" in Tiv. The words for for food are not the same, but are built the same way: "abinci" in Hausa, "abin" = something, ci = to eat, "something to eat", "kwayan" in Tiv, "kwa" = something, "yan" = to eat, "something to eat". Tiv people allegedly came from somewhere east before settling in the Benue River basin, and Hausa people are decidedly northerners, so this is likely to do with interactions in trade than a common ancestry, but I think it's interesting anyways.

Back in the day, Aondo was the name of the almighty, supreme god. There were a myriad of smaller dieties, spirits and powers under him. Basically, if you had a problem, you went to one of the little guys, offering prayers or sacrifices or whatever. If the problem wasn't fixed, you went to a bigger guy, all the way up to the big guy, Aondo. When the missionaries came, Aondo became the name for the like Yahweh, because the idea of being supreme over all is basically the same. Like I said, both in worship and in naming, "Ter" (meaning father) and Aondo are used fairly interchangeably, Aondo being more formal. "Ter Aondo" specifically refers to god the father. "Jijingi" just means spirit, but in a chrisitan context refers to the Holy Spirit, more formally "Jijingi u Civi", that is, "the spirit of purity/holiness". Jesus is just Yesu, or Yesu Kristu for Jesus Christ. "Tor" also a title that's used sometimes, although less often. It means "king", and heaven is called "Tar Tor", the land of the king. "Msen" means "prayer".

The Tiv people were traditionally a very decentralized people, having clan heads of families and groups of families rather than an overall king. My people are from Kwande, so there's the Ter-Kwande, "father of Kwande". When the British came they didn't like that very much though so they put someone in charge so they could just refer to one person instead of having to deal with a bunch of elders and chiefs and whatnot. He's called the "Tor Tiv", "king of Tiv" which is something of a misleading title. Although it's a very important position with power and wealth and all that, it's not a line of succession. When the Tor Tiv dies, rather than one of his sons becoming the next Tor Tiv, a new one is elected. There have been I think around Tor Tivs total, which shows you how recent the development is, only about some hundred plus years

This is all so cool holy moly. That’s so interesting that by that traditional naming convention, tribal names sort of mark family history!! I can’t get over the fact that your aunt got her name from her grandmother basically saying “Ayo wtf happened??” That’s incredible.

Also please note that after reading this last night, I went and spent an hour looking at articles on Tiv phonology (instead of washing dishes), because that’s the type of stuff that I fixate on I guess. I was curious about the sounds you were saying had more “umph” but couldn’t find a specific explanation. Maybe I’ll be able to find a video where I can pick up on the sounds, idk I’m just curious to hear them after reading your description. I did read that Tiv is a tonal language, which like. Yeah picking back up on learning that after 10 years in the US sounds Tough lol

Re: the word stuff, it’s always fun to see how different languages vary in the ways they divide meaning! Like two concepts that are grouped together in one language will have distinct words in another. Also, the Hausa overlap is really neat too! Hausa is a Chadic language, so it wouldn’t share ancestry with Tiv. The similarities would instead be from language contact as you said, like how English has borrowed from French, Latin, Spanish, etc. but is not a Romance language.

It’s also very interesting hearing about how the religious and political systems changed under colonialism. Leave it to the British imperialists to just group people together regardless of culturally determined distinctions.

Thank you so much for the mini language cultural history lesson!! I love learning things

#fr so fun to read these asks thank you!!#Tiv #phillycheesesteakcore #ask #asks #javasquatting #linguistics

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theforgottendrummajor · 1 year ago

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Day 94 of Being a Drum Major

Hey.

I’m just gonna get into it. I hate myself right now.

**rant incoming— TW: car accident and self-hate**

Last night, the band leadership team was hanging out at one of the section leader’s houses. And as my co-drum major and I are leaving, I ran my car into another section leader’s car.

I hate myself.

He was pissed (rightfully so) and I had at least three anxiety attacks last night. Add onto that two more this morning. It’s been fun.

But, yeah. I’m actually so fucking scared to see everyone again on Friday. I think they all think the problem is my parents, and how badly I’m gonna be punished. But what they don’t know is the amount of self-loathing I’ve gone through within the past 24 hours. I’m not kidding. The amount of times that I’ve thought it would be so much easier to be unalive is insane.

And there it is. My co-drum major texted me. And now I want to cry.

I hate myself.

Don’t worry, little tiny people in my phone reading this. I’ll talk to my therapist about it when I see her next week.

But I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been contemplating quitting marching band. If my director hears about this, I’m even more dead. Like, how the fuck do you see someone who’s supposed to be “the face of the band” as the girl who hit the trumpet guy’s car?

Yes, it was on accident. Yes, it was pitch black. Yes, I couldn’t see shit. Yes, I’ve hardly done anything but stare at the wall. I made myself sleep on the floor, using my mini sundress as a blanket last night (but I couldn’t fall asleep). I really have no idea how low you have to get before you start thinking of yourself as the worst thing in existence, but it’s there.

But yeah. I hate myself.

I feel like shit, and it’s not gonna change. I don’t want to see anyone, or do anything.

I see my drum major (she’s alum now) tomorrow, and I swear to God, I might break down when I see her. She wasn’t there. She knows nothing. But just seeing her…

She’s been there for me through everything. And I’m telling you, I wanted so bad to call her last night and ask her to take me home. Because I didn’t want to see my family.

Of course, I didn’t do any of that.

I hate myself.

I haven’t even been able to get the drum major experience, and I’m already about to take myself out of it. Which I don’t want to do. But I feel so bad, I hate myself so much that I’m willing to ruin my entire future. And to think that my drum major and I were talking yesterday (before the accident) about college auditions and shit.

I really don’t know what to do anymore.

See you on the field (or not, because I won’t be there)

—theforgottendrummajor

#my castles crumbling down #castles crumbling #block me out #i hate my existence #i hate my liiiiife #band kids #drum major #marching band #musicians #fuck cars #fuck the world #i hate everything #i hate it here #hate me #still don’t know what i’m doing

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jellybellyblimp · 2 years ago

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I’ve got this weird little hot take: Book fans for years have tended to say Lestat never stopped seeing Claudia as a little girl/doll he could dress up, while Louis saw the tragedy of her maturing but never growing and this played a big part in the deterioration of Claudia and Lestat’s relationship. HOWEVER, I think it’s the opposite. So recently I reread IWTV and TVL and I honestly think the problem was Lestat did see her as a woman, while consciously Louis could recognize she had grown but he couldn’t ever actually treat her with the weight that deserves. Lestat loved her and the books make his love for her very obvious, but as she grows up, acts out, and does stupid shit that will get all of them in trouble, he believes these actions should be treated with the weight befitting the actions of an adult. He’s often rightfully pissed, but every time Louis intercedes on her behalf and she’s allowed to get way with things Louis would never have accepted Lestat or any other adult doing. This results in a deterioration between not just Lestat and Claudia but Lestat and Louis as well. Lestat is increasingly frustrated that she is allowed to act petty, rash, and angry, while he is not (because let’s be real he’s a big fuckin baby). It’s also why (and I think justifiably) he begins to see her a legitimate rival for Louis’ affection. Because they are vampires and she is an unaging five year old, she mentally passes all the milestones, but will never be able to move out and flourish as an independent adult. They are frozen in this format and she goes from just their child to basically what Lestat feels is a third wheel in their relationship.(And like yeah who’s fuckin fault is that Lestat) Louis however excuses and dismisses her behavior for literally the entire book. He’s even kind of self aware about it. He comments on his own treatment of her because when he sees others treat her as a child he can recognize that he has been as well, but he’s never really able to stop. Because well she looks fuckin 5 and he’s her father.

Anyway my point is Claudia herself said Louis was easier to manipulate, but I think a big reason for that is that he still saw and treated her as a child.

We could also have a discussion about how this recognition of Claudia as a vampiric adult, despite physically remaining five, might have to do with his relationship with Armand or even his own turning.

(Ironically I think the show mirrors this very well, but takes it a step further because I don’t think he saw her as a rival for Louis’ affection until the moment she comes back. Because by aging her up, they made her capable of moving out and flourishing as an adult, but she still came back and asked Louis to leave with her. In that moment she goes from his dumbass child to a legitimate threat to his relationship with Louis. Not that Louis and Claudia have a romantic relationship but it’s basically “I heard your hearts dancing” all over again. He’s got some truly insane jealousy issues.)

#interview with the vampire #anne rice #the vampire chronicles #the vampire lestat #lestat de lioncourt #louis du pointe du lac #claudia de lioncourt

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limmastyles · 2 years ago

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This new article Olivia complained about the hate that she gets and how people say awful things about her and her children and her as a mother and the fact that Harry is well aware of all the shit that people say and has never once come to her defence is funny to me. Just pretend for a quick second that this relationship is real. If I cheated on my fiancé who I share two kids worth of nine years to be with a guy who is 10 years younger than me, Cast of him in my movie knowing that he’s not a very good actor, made the entire workplace aware of the affair that we were having, put my reputation as a Director and a professional on the line constantly I would expect something from this guy. On a daily basis for the last year and nine months Olivia has been subjected to a lot of vitriol and hate. Sometimes rightfully so. They have attacked her career, her relationship, her physical appearance, her as a human being, and her children. They have gotten some of the most heinous things said to all of them but also have sent death threats. If my boyfriend didn’t do anything to stop it even though he’s the cause of why I’m receiving all of this heat I would break up with him. Because Olivia would have not gone through any of this if her and Harry were not involved. I am travelling the world leaving my kids every other week sometimes missing my week with the kids to make my boyfriend happy and i’ve got about him in interviews but can barely ever really speak about him and he goes and says that he’s never been in a public relationship I would be fucking pissed. Harry has shown that if this relationship is real(which it’s not) he’s not a good boyfriend to Olivia. Because not only is she getting slaughtered online so we’re her children. I can’t imagine every single day waking up and finding a new headline about me or having people make fun of me for everything, my age, my body, my appearance, how I dance,. I know for a fact no matter how strong she likes to claim she is and how above everything she is I know for a fact that this woman has some new insecurities. Shit that she probably never even was insecure or thought about are probably on her mind on a daily basis and you can tell by the amount of Botox she’s gone. Harry does not give a fuck about this girl which is why I know for a fact this relationship is not real. But also in a fantasy world which it was Olivia has Had her reputation completely slaughtered. The movie was terrible. It has a 48% on Metacritic, a 44% on rotten tomatoes, and a three Out of 10 on IMDb. This movie is not good. This is also a movie that she put her own money into and a big reason why this movie isn’t really good it’s because of Harry and his terrible acting skills. Also after seeing how she treated Florence Pugh in this whole production there’s a lot of people in this industry who won’t want to work with her again. Not even for production companies and studios I’m talking about actors and actresses. What Florence Pugh went through it and you know for a fact that they know what really happened on that so why in the world would they wanna work with Olivia Wilde. Not to mention all of the shit that fans have dug up about her it’s insane. She went from being one of the most exciting female directors to a laughing stock in just under two years. And all of that is because of Harry and he still refuses to claim her. She has sacrificed all of this shit has gone through all of this and most of it is her own fault but still it’s because of Harry’s fanbase and he won’t even defend her. Anytime she tries to reassure the fact that the relationship is real this man continuously makes her look like a fucking fool. Ignoring her at Venice and we saw the amount of times that she try to make eye contact with him or have some type of interaction with him and he gave her the cold shoulder. This stunt was truly the downfall of Olivia Wilde and she has nobody else but herself and Harry to blame. She went into this movie being a new exciting female Director to someone Hollywood can’t stand. And it’s 100% all on her.

THIS THIS THIS

#fauxlivia #holivia is fake #holivia stunt #pr stunt #holivia #publicitystunt #pr relationships #olivia wilde #holivia pr stunt #publicity stunt

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matthewtkachuk · 3 years ago

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why do you think that strangers gonna mind with PLD??? 💚💚💚

hi love, hope you don't mind this being a little late ❤️

pairing: pierre-luc dubois x reader

warnings: mentions of cyber bullying, fangirls being mean :/

word count: 1k

why do you think that strangers gonna mind

You’re not a stranger to unsavoury comments made about you on the internet. In the eighth grade you’d pissed off the wrong group of girls in your school and ended up drawing their ire vis a vis facebook. At the time it had been the worst thing ever, with constant harassment and even a private facebook group made to shit talk you, but looking back it was pretty funny that they were threatened by your friendship with one of their (and you use the term very loosely) boyfriends.

Now? Now every bit of social media you had was locked down or deleted. Instagram and twitter? Private. Facebook? A variation of your first and middle names that you’d told everyone was because you didn’t want future employers finding you. LinkedIn and Pinterest? Deleted. Spotify? Fake name.

The reason for that was simple.

Your boyfriend was a professional athlete and fangirls be crazy. You’d managed to fly under the radar for a lot longer than you thought you ever would, lasting more than a year and an international trade before an errant ponytail on your boyfriend’s wrist during an interview had the internet sleuths of instagram on your tail.

The tiny, insignificant detail had brought attention to the fact that he was likely dating someone, and from there you can only speculate it was a careless tag that led them straight to you. In the beginning, you’d never thought of making your account private. Really, you had 300 followers tops, and most of them were people you’d gone to school with throughout the years. It never crossed your mind in the early months of dating Pierre, especially since you’d never actually posted him on your feed, only tagging him in your insta stories that disappeared alongside the experiences together.

Even after you’d been found out, it hadn’t been a cute selfie of the two of you on your couch that nailed the final nail in your coffin. In fact, it wasn’t Pierre at all, it was a totally cute, totally innocent picture of Pierre’s bulldogs sleeping alongside your lab daschund cross. That had been enough though, firmly cementing you as the mystery girl whose ponytail had been around Pierre’s wrist.

Very quickly, you’d had to limit your comments and not much longer you went private entirely. Yet, somehow, particularly determined fans were able to make their way to your filtered messages and sent you insults through the messaging systems of other less conspicuous apps. You can’t really explain why, but you don’t really tell Pierre the whole truth behind your social media cleanse. Deflecting a little, you minimize the situation, stating it was ‘only a fan or two’ and it was just a good idea to lock it down before things got too insane.

And then they’d found your LinkedIn, the one you’d made in college because the career guidance staff told you that you’d needed one. Luckily, you hadn’t updated it since you were a sophomore and so the only information anyone was able to glean from it was long outdated and didn’t tell them much. Although you were pretty sure that the restaurant you’d worked at part time through college was receiving an uptick in patronage. Honestly good for them, if they’d offered a better salary and health benefits and your boyfriend hadn’t been traded to Canada of all places, you might have stayed long term.

As it stands, you’re in Winnipeg and Pierre is too, and above anything else you’re young and in love and Pierre, rightfully so, wants to plaster you all over his instagram. It should make your face warm, cause your heart to beat a little faster than is medically necessary. It doesn’t though, it just fills you with an awkward sense of dread that is proven rational by the comments Pierre doesn’t see and the messages you don’t show him.

You’re relatively confident in yourself, having learned to love the body you were blessed with a long time ago, and you know that more than anything you have a good and kind heart, but yet you can’t help but let the awful things that strangers say about you take root in your heart.

It has you protesting the next time he wants to post a video of you playing with the dogs onto his story - at first, playfully wrestling for his phone to delete the photo until the air turns thick with tension as you all but demand he not post it.

It’s not until he asks what’s going on that you break, pulling your dog onto your lap and tearfully admitting you don’t want to hear what strangers on the internet are going to say about you.

“Why do you think that strangers are gonna mind?” he asks and you can’t help the sarcastic laugh that leaves your lips. Your dog whines quietly at the heartbreaking sound and you comfort her with a hand running down her back.

You admit it all then, the taunts and the insults and the threats. The real reason behind your social media purge and the twinge of fear that lights up your insides every time you see the little notification pop up on your phone.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you tell him after he asks why you never told him what was going on.

“I want to know what’s going on with you always,” he protests and you relax into his embrace on the couch. “If you don’t want me to post you on my instagram anymore I won’t, but I like to show you off.” The grin on his face is so endearing, canine teeth on display that you can’t resist the urge to kiss it right off him.

You let him post it, and every other post he wants that features you, including one a year and a half later that focuses on a pretty little ring on your left hand.

After all, who cares if a stranger minds?

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb #pierre luc dubois fic #pierre luc dubois imagine #pierre luc dubois imagines #pierre luc dubois blurb #pierre luc dubois x reader #shelb writes #shelb writes blurbs #shelbs 1.5k

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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seven

Rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. Todoroki Enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki enji (endeavor) x fem!reader

warnings: edo period!endeavor (king henry viii inspo), forced marriage, alcohol consumption, 18+, smut, non-con, dub-con, size difference, breeding kink, rough-sex, pain, degradation, & mind break

word count: 5,750

a/n: fuck that family who started the fire in socal. my campus is literally raining ashes up in oregon. im so tired. two exams monday. im going to be going on meds for anxiety and adhd soon, so thats new. uh,,, this is like LOL its a bit bad,,, but I really, really lust over asshole enji who only wants to breed bitches and thats it. this is for the bnharem fantasy au collab, i wan’t that creative sorry see ya later skaters.

PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

One.

Fate: Spared.

Two.

Fate: Executed.

Three.

Fate: Died during childbirth.

Four.

Fate: Spared.

Five.

Fate: Executed.

Six.

Fate: Executed.

Seven.

Fate: Unknown.

Silks and expensive cloth held a scent that was irreplicable.

The smooth smell of the layers upon layers of fabric wrapped around your body did nothing to quench the building layer of ice in your stomach.

You were scared.

Rightfully so.

Six women came before you, and if you wanted to live, you would have to do better than them.

Marrying the Todoroki Clan head was something that most women could only dream of accomplishing in this day and age. The Todoroki’s, after all, are strong, rich, powerful, undefeated. They held the real power in this age, more influential and notable than the emperor that repeatedly begged the family for support, be it in power, strength, or money.

But, it was also known knowledge that the man who sat at the head of the clan, who held the power of the Todoroki name and future, was a man not to be trifled with.

Todoroki Enji was an endeavor of a man.

There had always been whispers about the head of the family, how he stood eight feet tall, and how his body was not lean like most warriors, but thick and savagely sturdy. His hair was red, blessed by the sun some claimed, or cursed by the devil others alleged. His temper and barbaric nature on the battlefield were, of course, rumored by the people on your lands, who had been indebted by the Todoroki Clan because of their protection and profits.

Todoroki Enji was not a man to be trifled with.

Especially not if the rumors were true.

He was painted as a demon by everyone. Still, Enji was no demon, he was human, and if he was to allow the Todoroki Clan's legacy to continue, he needed an heir… but since he was human, he was aging.

Six women.

You knew that it was six women because you had been alive to experience five of them.

You remember the newly married couple being paraded through the streets.

Todoroki Enji remained hidden within his vehicle's confines while his new wife, doe-eyed, smiling, effervescent, would greet the gathered crowds. You often wondered what they thought when you would conjure in respect for the man who ensured your childhood and adolescence were not corrupted by thieves and horror.

You wondered what she thought when promising the village elders that she would produce a strong, male heir. You raised an eyebrow at the thought that maybe, just maybe they believed that they would be different -- be able to birth a strong, capable male heir.

Six wives.

Twenty children.

Two weak, sickly boys.

A whole clan of girls.

Were they idiotic, blind, or batshit insane to ever believe that they would be different?

You undoubtedly didn’t know.

Three of the six had been executed.

Three of six had been proud to state they would produce a strong male Todoroki heir, noting that his two sons -- Touya and Natsuo -- would be removed from the family as soon as their strong son was born.

One of those three birthed a weak, sickly baby boy. She passed in childbirth and took him with her one day after.

Another of those three birthed four girls, two sets of twins because, of course, they were given two chances. She was executed on treason.

The final of those three had simply pissed him off; rumor had it. Her pussy was too tight, unwilling to sheath the thick massive cock that belonged to him… no point in breaking something that wouldn’t bend when there was more pussy out there (you remember she had been ugly too).

But what you didn’t expect was for his clan members to come through your village's streets with an announcement in hand.

Of the six women before you, three had held significant political power -- the three that survived.

Of the remaining three, there was a poet, the other a woman soldier of his, and the last being a clan member.

You had never known what the decision process was, not even a little bit, so when men dressed in dark robes with the Todoroki sigil and katana’s strapped to their sides infiltrated your village, you were on edge.

“All women who are fertile and beautiful, line up, and no, we don’t care if you’re married,” was the short, almost taunting order, and you had never felt sicker.

You were among the seventy females in your village that matched the requirement they demanded.

Your sight was almost glued to the floor as they walked through you all, your fists grabbing your light blue kimono as the men groped the women in line, teasing the breasts of the pregnant women, rutting their poorly concealed cocks through the valley of asses, shoving between some girls thighs with loopy, proud smiles on their faces, beating any man who attempted to protect any one of their honors.

But you were towards the end of the line, standing where they decided to save for last, and you were helpless to it all. You watched knowing that of the sixty-something women ahead of you, none of them remained.

The whimpers, cries, and whines grew louder by your ear, your spine rigid and sore with its tightness as the girl beside you dropped to the floor in her fear. You couldn’t bother looking at her as the parting of their robes seemed to be akin to gunpowder going off in your ears. The horrified squeal on her tongue being silenced when a cock slammed through her lips, the tears pouring down her face useless, if anything, only encouraging their roughhousing.

Your lip curled at the sound of her pathetic whining, the incessant need of her to tell them that she was not okay with this was nails on an iron plate. It annoyed you, it pissed you off.

“Look at this one,” the snickering laughter of a man breathed by your ear, instantly stilling and freezing the anger that was once radiating like fire from your chest. “She doesn’t look ashamed… she looks like she’s jealous. Maybe these common bitches do have someone good enough for Boss.”

Spluttering gasps and hiccuping cries came from the ground, and you couldn’t even bother glancing at the woman you had known all your life laying on the floor, kimono ripped open, and white, sticky cum dripping from her mouth.

“Well, there’s nothing like taking her out for a test run,” came a sleazy smile, and when two hands gripped at your clothed breasts, you didn’t so much as raise a brow at their perverted actions.

You had won in the end against them. Each perverted, twisted intention they placed against you, dirt crusted fingernails digging into your arms, purpling, throbbing cocks pressed into your backside… it hadn’t mattered.

You didn’t budge.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t make a noise.

A simple smirk remaining on their faces at your inevitable victory against the other women in your village -- against the crying, cum stuffed women who stared at your victorious and stubborn form without a clue on how you managed.

And where did that land you?

In a room with only one window too high up for an average person to reach, white silks and fabrics adorning your body, and ceremonial ornaments in your hair.

Six women came before you, but today, you would become the seventh.

With you, there would be seven women to have wed Todoroki Enji, but you weren’t scared because you feared the fate of the six before you. No, you were much better than them; you already knew that for a fact.

The anxiety that coursed through your veins created that ice pit in your stomach came from one place and one place only.

Your cunt already sobbed at the thought of even attempting at taking his thick, veiny cock you knew was the size of your thigh later tonight.

A virgin like you had no chance of survival.

The doors to your room soon slammed open, and your back stiffened at the sight of a familiar face of an escort you had. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they were focused at the wall, his face tense and tight.

“It’s best we leave now, y/l/n, Todoroki-sama doesn’t like waiting.”

The weight of the white silk on your body felt like a brick when you stood up from your position, and you wondered if the sweat from your pits and palms would damage the kimono -- if it was noticeable. But you had a duty, and as number seven, you had no motive to be executed before even getting the chance to prove yourself.

You knew how wishes worked; the secret was in being silent about your desire… never reveal what your wish was, or the world wouldn’t grant it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself every time you heard the all too familiar words of: “I’ll produce a fine Todoroki heir,” through the lips of the dead and the divorced. They had spoken it to the universe, acknowledged what they needed, and the cruel world failed them each and every time.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, so consumed by the idea of what would happen tonight, you hardly realized that with the heaving puffing breathes you took to keep up with the man’s ridiculous strides, that you had made it to the shrine that you had been brought to wed.

But you couldn’t even take in the beauty of the shrine to your left because you were more interested in who was standing in the pathway towards the shrine.

Todoroki Enji.

He stood on the stone-paved path, his bulky, beefy arms folded across his chest, the fabric of his kimono taut and tight against his flexed muscle, and a sour frown on his face. It was as the rumors had spoken, you realized when you stopped mere strides away from your future husband, he was a man that looked both godly and cursed.

Bright red hair glistened like copper pans under the sunlight, waving and flickering like a raging fire with every small burst of wind. He stood at almost eight feet high, maybe eight feet, you had no idea. All you knew is that as your feet stumbled when getting near to this man, you were dwarfed, feeling like a child next to their father as you gazed up at his unmoving, scarred face. His eyes didn’t look down at you, but even you could see the clear, sharp blue in them, and for the first time, you questioned reality.

Was this man truly human? Was he genuinely Japanese?

Seeing him before you made your knees buckle in fear, arousal, and anticipation.

You wanted to see what had made the sixth scream to stop.

You wanted to see just what he was hiding behind the ridiculously tight fitted kimono, but your thoughts were yanked away when his hand -- no doubt bigger than your head -- pressed to space between your shoulder blades and pushed you.

“We’re on a tight schedule,” he merely growled, his eyes burning at something a million miles away, and with a small, pitiful whimper, you allowed him to lead the way.

The wedding ceremony was… odd, to say the least.

While you had never been married, you had attended a few weddings within your lifetime already, and never once had it felt so disturbing dead and raw as it had today. This Shinto ceremony, typically doused with symbolism and motifs for the greatest possible outcome for the union between you and Todoroki Enji, was stripped from the shrine walls, leaving the walls barren and cold as both he and the priest proceeded through the ceremony at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t something Enji wanted; you realized that clearly the moment he refused to meet your gaze; his blue eyes remaining on the priest.

Everything the both of you performed together was done haphazardly, the lack of symbols you had always wished to see in your wedding ceremony forgotten, undoubtedly seen as a farce by a man like Todoroki Enji, but still, your heart ached.

You hadn’t noticed when the ceremony had ended; Enji never once allowing you to move, or do anything for that matter, by yourself. There was no use in fighting against a man who’s entire hand fit around your forearm, his thumb even resting against his fingernail -- oh yes, this man was huge.

There was no telling when he paraded you through the streets of his territory, allowing you to numbly speak to the village elders, to allow your parents to press their sweaty palms to your cheeks because god, please, please survive this, their touch practically sobbed. You smiled at them, eyes numb with the reality of what this was going to be for you, but the cheerful tone on your tongue remained optimistic and bright with every passing word.

The scornful thoughts of the sixth woman being too weak to handle Enji had dissipated, and you wondered just what the other five did to survive what you knew was a massive fucking cock hidden beneath the shrowds of his black kimono.

You would survive, you would survive, you would survive.

But far before you were ready to, you arrived back at the Todoroki front, the wooden estate standing sturdy and strong, the air of power and aura almost tangible. The samurai and clansmen who had undoubtedly awaited for you and your now-husband (that was still odd to think about) to return. Pairs of warm, weathered hands helped you from the carriage, and without so much of a whisper of thanks, they escorted you away, heads bowed at the mercy of their leader.

Once more, you were abandoned in your room.

The window no longer allowed the streaming setting sunlight in, your room was in the eastern part of the estate, and with the nighttime coming, the setting sun was merely a memory to you.

And in that room, the tiny, unspacious room that seemed much more for a prisoner than the seventh wife of Todoroki Enji, you tried not to cry.

The door slamming open hours after you had fallen asleep had taken you by surprise.

Enji had left you to your own entertainment, and long after you were served dinner, and informed that no, Todoroki-sama would not be visiting you right now because he was busy, you had sat on the bed in your silks and robes, numbly looking at the star-filled sky. Sleep was the only thing you could do, and with the last servant visit being past midnight, you took to sleep.

Except that you forgot a sparing, important detail.

This was Todoroki Enji’s world, and you were merely his legal fuckhole.

The heavy footsteps of Enji entering the room echoed in your ear, and the door closed behind him, solidifying the end of the beginning of what you once knew.

“Seven,” he growled into the night, and your spine snapped straight.

He loomed above you, the tatami mat suddenly feeling like a brick wall against your side, and you swallowed pathetically at the way his deep, raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

This had been the first time you had heard him speak, all other forms of communication between him and the priest and he and his clan members had been nonverbal, solely told through those piercing blue eyes that only let you dream of what he sounded like -- of what he was demanding. But you lay confused, your eyebrows scrunched at just why he had called out the number seven?

Seven what?

You twisted where you lay, your eyes meeting his own, and despite the lack of light in the room, you could see the cold, distant glint in his eyes.

“Oh good,” he mocked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes squinted in his apparent lack of approval. “You can hear.”

“S-Seven what?” you stammer, your elbow pressing into the mat, pushing you up so that you could look at your husband, uncertainty and discomfort scorching every nerve in your body.

You didn’t know what to do.

Then, it hit you. The bitter, numbing smell of alcohol coated in a fine layer around his skin, the small puffs of angry air from his mouth letting you know that your husband was inebriated, and your throat clenched when he began to dismantle his kimono.

“T-This isn’t a good idea!” you stammer, the white silk robes you were still dressed in because they refused to allow you a set of sleeping clothes because the marriage needed to be consummated, felt stiff and not protective enough. “You won’t produce a proper heir if you’re intoxicated.”

Enji raised an eyebrow at you, and your thudding heart failed to cease as his robes hit the floor with an unceremonious thud.

Whiskey dick wasn’t something foreign to you; the countless men you had sucked off in your time, the numerous sex stories you had been shared with always had some instance of a man getting drunk and being able to get their cock hard, but this…?

If this was Enji’s whiskey dick, you weren’t sure what to expect of his sober cock.

His cock was already hard, the veins in his cock large, plentiful, and bulging in many areas. It was thick, without a doubt thick enough where it would take both your hands to circle around his cock, and it was long, the swollen weeping tip leaking against his abdomen. His cock was magnificent yet deadly, and your pussy spasmed in fear of having that monster all twelve plus inches shoved into your virgin cunt.

“The fuck are you doing, seven?” Enji snarled, his powerful naked legs moving toward you, his feet pressing into the mat, and his hand reaching out to you. “I didn’t marry you for you to just stare at my fucking cock like some piss-shit baby.”

There was no time to panic, protest, or even prepare yourself for the sudden sharp, dull ache in your jaw when he pressed his monster cock past your chapped, chewed lips.

Immediately, it was overwhelming.

The engorging cock had barely passed your lips, but you were already gagging against the unwelcomed size, the horrid ache sending spilling tears down your cheeks, doing nothing but annoying the man before you. His hands gripped your hair, his eyes not even bothering to look at you as he fucked your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting,” Enji snarled, his hips coming to meet your mouth in a vicious, unpleasant snap, the head of his cock pressing down your clenched throat, and so much of his cock still remaining far from your mouth. “Take my cock like the fucking whore I know you are, seven.”

You gasp for air, but with his cock ramming further and further down your throat, the scalding heat emitting from his skin burning your throat, making you gag and choke around him in your fear. You couldn’t breathe, you realized in a panic, and your eyes widened in fear, drool and spit spilling down your chin pathetically as Enji hums contently.

“Don’t feel so scared, seven,” Enji cruelly smirked up at the ceiling, his hips lazily, sloppily, yet powerfully delivering his cock into your bulging throat. “I heard what you did to my men, how you let them fuck you however they saw fit, how you scoffed and scowled at the other pathetic weak bitches who couldn’t handle a little groping… I thought you would like this? What is it? Never had a real fucking cock before? A little whore like yourself only gotten shitty little cocks?”

Wordlessly, you begged to be shown mercy, your vision blackening as he choked out all forms of oxygen, his war weathered body unbothered by your clawing fingers on his thighs. No, you were too weak for it to hurt him.

His hands left your hair, and you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, choking, and coughing for oxygen that only burned all through your system, sitting unpleasantly in your lungs while tears and saliva mixed on your throat.

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going, seven?” Enji barked, his body suddenly looming over yours, and you felt trapped, unable to move as the mountain of a man trapped you between his sturdy arms and legs. His cock, warm and sticky with your spit and his precum, sat heavily on your stomach, the size difference between the two of you even more pronounced when the tip of his cock rested at the bottom of your ribcage. “All you did was lube up my cock for your stupid, tight pussy. Don’t think I was satisfied with that childish blowjob -- next time, if you want to cry, make sure it’s loud enough that I feel it against my cock.”

You pathetically moan at his words, the tears still falling from your eyes because your throat and jaw hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please,” you gasped as his cinder hot hands pressed to your breasts against your kimono, he quickly enveloped your tender flesh in his hands despite the fabric. “Please, no more.”

“I don’t remember this marriage being about you,” he mocked, and with no more of a glinting snarl of his mouth, he tore the kimono straight off your body. The horrified scream that left your lips was silenced by the echoing slap across your face.

Pain blistered at the side of your face, and the resulting tears couldn’t be felt against your numbed skin as Enji continued his conquest, his fingers pulling and ripping any and all fabric pressed against your body.

“Get away!” you weakly whimpered, body trembling and twisting as you attempted to escape the man looming above you, finally ridding you of all dresses, hands pressing to the back of your thighs to push you into a position that he liked. “Leave me alone, leave me alone…”

There was no fire in your words, nothing but the aching fear and undeniable terror.

But the words did nothing to Enji, who continued to move you so that your tight, virgin cunt lined up with his throbbing, red cockhead. Even like this, your face was pressed into his chest. His body unworldly larger than yours, incredibly goliath compared to you.

“You know, seven, if you keep trying to escape me and you keep trying to save yourself, then why are you so fucking wet with everything I’ve done?” he growls down at you, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through you, the tears falling down your face doing nothing but encouraging him because he was right… your cunt, just like his cock, was wet, dripping with the undeniable pleasure of this all. There was a fire, a shameful fire, in your pussy, throbbing in time with the stinging pulse in your face that begged for Enji’s cock despite it all. “You fucking tiny little slut… I can feel just how my actions -- how my words -- affect you, getting you off like a bitch in heat! Your efforts to hide it are pathetic, fucking useless.”

Pain.

If you thought you knew what pain was before right now, you had to be wrong.

Enji’s girth was overwhelming, nearly splitting your shuddering tight walls while he buried his cock entirely within you. Nausea builds in the back of your throat, a soundless shriek breaking past your bleeding lips, your hips bucking in their relentless attempt to adjust to the way that he was splitting your walls in two, and your face flushed in pain and lust press into his chest, the only part of him you could touch.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!” you cried, fat and painful tears pushing past your eyes, dripping down the apples of your cheeks while Enji sighed at the feeling of your hot cunt against his cock, blood seeping out of your pussy in such a pretty way he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve got a really tight cunt,” he observes, his hips slamming against you without warning, his mind only caring about him, setting off another round of painful screams while he situates within you. “Mhm, this is nice. A tight, young pussy always means a good womb, you’ll give me the heir I need… I’ll make sure to fuck you full of my cum.”

His hips then begin to thrust upward into you, the tip of his cock unable to reach the beginnings of your walls that he seemed to attempt to get to with each powerful blow. But it was his girth that had your body tensed, back arched in pain, eyes clenched in nothing but pain.

Pain.

“Hey.” SLAP. Your head snapped to the side, a burning, stinging pain on your cheek, alerting you that your eyes were closed. Your piqued breathing spluttered and so spaced between it was as if you were having some sort of asthma attack. Enji looked down at you, blue eyes burning demonly down at you (you wondered if this was the same look those who survived to see him on the battlefield claimed he had), his lips curled into an unapproving snarl while his hands pushed at the bottom of your knees. You pressed further into the tatami, the angle of penetration only furthering with your desperate screams to be gentler. “Shut the hell up, you’re annoying me with all this fucking screaming. Don’t waste my time.”

You whimper loudly, the feeling of his forcibly moving hips not becoming any easier on you, no longer a wave of intensive horrifying pain, but still a throbbing pain than had your fingernails cutting into his skin. “You have to be gentler! Be gentler, please be gentler! You’re so much bigger than me!!! My pussy can’t… my pussy can’t handle this!”

The fabric of the kimono under your body seared with heat when Enji shoved you further onto the mat, your legs twitching almost pathetically around his waist while your sight nearly blackened with his next action. He slammed your knees into the mat, increasing the angle of his penetration by a tenfold, sending you into another round of howling pain and pleasure as his cock slammed into your cervix -- bruising and scalding your puffy, sensitive walls with every powerful thrust. With his drilling hips and snarling speed, your screams and shouts of pain and pleasure and fear were cut off by an enormous fist around your neck, and his voice echoed from above you.

“Didn’t your dad teach you fucking whore to be quiet, seven?” Enji hisses, his thick hand clenching around your neck. Oxygen refused to flow to your lung, you went light-headed and limp, choking noises emitting from you while he continued to slam his cock in you, your clenching and splitting walls unable to keep up with the speed of the esteemed nobleman of Japan. “You’re my breeding whore, do you understand? You have no value to me except to be breed, to be full of my cum, to carry my child. You are nothing more than an object. Do. You. understand?”

Your head throbbed, the blood forcibly kept in your head, and the lack of oxygen made your world spin.

“Y-Yes!” you choke on your tongue.

“Repeat it!”

“I’m your breeding whore! Fill me with your cum, I wanna… fuck, I w-wanna carry your children! I’m your object, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“There we go,” Enji sighs contently, his broad chest pressing your thighs further into the bed, cutting off what limited oxygen you had left, and increasing the jabbing pleasure within you by a tenfold.

“Shit, such a filthy fucking cunt you have,” he groans, your walls spasming against him with his wild, obscene thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, your legs then wrap around his body, shaking as he makes no effort to slow in his advances, your finger drawing blood from where they raked down his back because he was burning an outline of your body into the mat. Your strangled scream goes unnoticed by Enji, a desperate plea for him to be softer.

But he wasn’t someone who cared.

You were only here to be bred, to give him a son, the strongest son the entire country of Japan -- nay, the world -- has ever seen.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up to meet him, a prayer that it would ease this brutal force he was using. It was too much -- his cock easily overpowering your throbbing cunt.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that made you cry in embarrassment. Your face felt like it was seconds from popping out, Enji’s weight crushing you on top of the abhorrent position he was fucking you in, but he found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are warnings in your ears as his cock finally hits your cervix with consistency that makes you wail. The stretch he gave you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gouge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal, your breath hot and sticky between the valley of his chest. Your tongue pressing against his skin akin to some infant looking to suck their mothers tit.

The force in which Enji slammed his hips to meet yours. Above your ear, the growling pants that mocked you for enjoying this demeaned you for thinking you were anything more than his breeding whore sent a liquid fire that could never match the heat of a conflagration to your core. When your head smashed against the mat because you could no longer keep your head up.

“That’s fucking right,” he laughs, drool pouring past your lips with your mindless babble, your eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure drowned in pain sobs expelled from your lips, invigorating something powerful within the entire family who watches on with impatient stares at the sight of your squeezing cunt around Eniji’s cock. “Take my fucking cock, bitch, don’t fucking pass out yet, we’re far from over.”

Enji was raw power, destruction, and strength. He pistoled into your sobbing core with the intent of getting his sperm into your cunt, to get his sperm that would get him a son into you, other than that, he was uncaring, unmotivated by your pathetic whining and crying. Your thrashing and wailing do not stop Enji, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the floor begins to creak with every powerful thrust.

“I needa — holy shit, r-right there! M-More, more, more, more--”

“What? Do you need to come already, seven?” Enji mocks you pushing up off you so his back is curved, and your body so small underneath him. “Do you really think I’ll let you cum before me?”

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is snarl quietly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. His balls bruising your ass where he hits you. The feeling of Enji’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you pathetically whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure.

Each powerful snap of his hips sending your back arching to the heavens, the balls of your feet digging bruisingly into his back. In and out he goes, your cunt nothing more than a cocksleeve for him, and your wanton screams and mewls taking him further and further.

Enji all but laughs into your ear, his hand moving from pressing onto the tatami mat and pushing into your opened mouth, pressing onto your tongue. “Suck my fingers like a good whore, show me that you’re not gonna disappoint me. Suck my fingers.” you sob in the thought, not because you’re fearful of disappointing the man, but because the feeling of his fingers in your mouth makes your cunt throb ludicrously, your tongue desperately wrapping around the appendages, pushing through the space of his fingers. “I’m going to fill you up so good, breeding whore. You’ll be leaking my cum for days. I’m going to make sure you carry the Todoroki gene, and I hope that it’s my son you carry.”

The words incite clenching heat in your core, your lips unable to form anything but a weak, pitiful moan because the thought of being filled to the max with Todoroki cum makes your mind spin. More, you want to milk them all dry. You want nothing more than that. With a ragged breath, a consecutive full thrust that sends his cock slamming against your cervix, Enji cums fully within you. His load is long and heavy, your belly feeling like it’s bulging when he finally emerges from your cunt. His once hard cock limping in his hands while you lay there defeated, his and your intermixed cum spilling from your pulsing cunt.

Your mouth opened, sobbing at his absence, a need for him to return despite your core's undeniable tremor and ache. He’s off your body as well, and oxygen floods your lungs in dizzying and shallow pants, your vision fuzzies out, and you stare almost brokenly at the window painted with the rising morning sun.

Your room was in the east wing, after all.

You didn’t even protest when he pressed a smooth wooden plug into your cunt to “ensure you were bred to succession.”

He would soon leave your room, stumbling out with a drunken hiccup, leaving you to lay on a once white kimono… a once white kimono drenched in cum, blood, sweat, and tears.

You wouldn’t know until two weeks later, but Todoroki Enji had succeeded in breeding you, and you would eventually lay in a birthing room with blood and sweat and tears soaking your skin as a silent baby boy was placed in your arms.

“And what will his name be?” the midwife asked, her eyes wide with joy for you and Enji.

“...Shouto.”

#endeavor x reader #todoroki enji x reader #endeavor smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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