#spinner oneshot

[imagineanime2022]

My Hero Characters W/ S/O Like Black Widow

Mr Compress X Fem!Reader, Spinner X Reader, Fatgum X Reader, Eraserhead X Reader

Requested: @supernatural-hunter1

Request: I got the perfect idea for you? Mr. Compress, Spinner, Fatgum, Aizawa, dating Black Widow the shield agent?

Warning: Talk of not being able to have kids (Mr compress), general trauma

Mr Compress

🔮 No one knows how Compress had ever managed to get your attention but it was a story that you both kept to yourself, something that was yours 🔮 You are probably the reason behind the success that he had outside of the LoV. They honestly had no doubt about that. 🔮 He liked that sass that you’d often give back to anyone who challenges you, he’d often sit back and let you take care of it. 🔮 Will be there for you when you need him to, anything that you want to talk about, he’ll listen always.

You sat in the room provided for you and Compress, you had spent the whole day getting to know the people that you would be working with and most of them were what you expected, everyone except for Toga. The young girl had latched onto your side, probably because you were the only other female in the group. The act itself was harmless but given the life that you had lived it reminded you of something that you couldn’t have.

Compress had noticed that you were missing the moment that you disappeared from sight, heave you a moment after all you could have just gone to the bathroom, when you didn’t reappear he decided that he was going to look for you. It didn’t take long to find you in the bedroom “are you okay love?” He asked. “I’m fine.” You answered. “Then what are you doing hiding in here?” He asked as he closed the door, slipping off his mask and the fabric underneath, allowing you to see his face. “No I just, it’s Toga.” You answered. “The young girl?” He asked. “What did she do?” “It was nothing that she did, it just reminded me of something that was taken from me.” You answered. “Taken from you?” He asked. “You remember when I said that the people that made me this way, took some things from me, things that I could never get back?” You asked. “Yes.” He answered as he crawled onto the bed after kicking off his shoes sitting behind you, where he wrapped his arms around your waist as he listened. “One of the things that they took from me was my womb.” You answered hands lacing with his over your stomach “I will never have a child at least not of my own and I saw that girl, when she said that her family did nothing to help her, I just…” You trailed off and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before resting his chin on it, fingers tightening around yours. “Why don’t you help her then, she seems to like you, she’s a delightful young lady.” He answered, you looked at him over your shoulder. “Take her under your wing and see what happens. At least if something ever happens to me then I know that you had someone else.” “Nothing is going to happen to you.” You insisted and he shrugged. “I’m sure with you around that is true.” He answered. “And we’ll make everyone regret ever taking anything from you on the way to our happy ending.”

Spinner

🦎 You were the one that taught Spinner how to use his abilities to aid him in a fight, your stealth instincts were on point and he’d trust you over anyone else. 🦎 When he decided to join the league of villains he offered you a chance to go with him, of course you said yes. He worried that you would end up killing someone before the mission starts. 🦎 You became the information gatherer, you were good at disguising yourself and blending in with the crowd, you got everything that you needed with no one ever knowing that you were there. 🦎 And the people who did know never lived long enough to tell anyone about it.

You were quick on your feet as you moved around the destroyed Mafia base, the heroes had been guarding it so well or so they thought. Shigaraki had asked you to get any information still left there that related to the bullets that he had taken from them. You didn’t think that there would be anything left but if there was even one more computer you could extract information from it.

You easily snuck through the corridors dodging the night guards and into the ruined building, it didn’t take long to find a room with a computer in it, it looked like one they had marked for removal but it hadn’t been done yet. “How is it going?” Spinner’s voice sounded through the ear piece. “No spotted yet, found a computer that they haven’t moved yet, looks like they want to though, so there might be something on this one.” You explained lowly as you put the memory stick in, you didn’t need the screen, the memory stick had a programme on ti that would take everything the computer had to offer but that did mean that you would have to go through all the information and pick out what Shigaraki would want to hear about, so even after you get out of here you’d have some work to do. “Good then you can get out of there.” Spinner urged and you hummed eyes moving to the corridor, there was movement outside, the room had no door but it was pitch black in the room, you were careful with your steps as you slowly moved around him as he checked the room, you got behind him, your arm wrapped around his neck cutting off his airways while taking the walkie from his pocket to stop him from calling anyone else, noting the soft beep telling you that the extraction was finished. You dropped the body to the floor when he stopped fighting you and grabbed the memory stick before getting the same way you had gotten in.

You met Spinner at the car where he had been waiting for you, you both made tracks ditching the car before heading back to the hideout, you had been working for hours when Spinner brought you food and water for the long night ahead “anything good?” He asked, leaning down behind you. “Nothing yet, just normal stuff at the moment, but there is something behind a lot of passwords and security so maybe that’s what we’re looking for.” You answered, pressing a kiss to his cheek “thanks for the food and water.” “No problem.” He answered, a small blush on his cheeks. “You should get some rest, you don’t need to stay up too.” You said softly, he looked at you for a second before shaking his head. “I’m not tired.” He denied as he sat in the chair next to you. “You're too sweet for this world.” You informed him, he just looked away from you mumbling something you couldn’t hear under his breath. It was only 15 minutes later that he was asleep in the chair, you moved him over to the sofa where he would be a little more comfortable, you could not be happier with the partner that you had found.

Fatgum

🍭 Fatgum was completely different to anyone that you had ever met before, kind and encouraging, he seemed to see something in you, something that you definitely didn’t see. 🍭 You didn’t believe that you could be a hero, so he kept you close and show you that you could be a hero despite your past. 🍭 It took a long time for you to stop responding to physical touch negatively, he understood completely after a life where physical touch was used as punishment or training he was surprised that you didn’t have more of a reaction. 🍭 Slow and steady wins the race for him, he never forces you into anything and he makes sure that you have a safe space to explore everything and make new opinions about the world you are now a part of.

Fatgum hadn’t heard you come into the room but that was nothing new, you were light on your feet always had been, you glanced over his shoulder to see that he was sorting out paperwork. Perfect. You had been feeling like you needed to be closer to him and hoped that he was doing something stationary so that you could just climb on his lap and stay there for a few hours. “You alright Darling?” He asked. “Mm.” You hum, not sure how to ask him for what you wanted, it was his home office so you didn’t have to worry about someone seeing you, you stood there for a moment before walking forward worming your way under his arm he moved them so that you could get into position easier dropping the pen he was using his hands moving to your body. “You wanna sit with me until I finish?” He asked. “Yeah… Is that okay?” You asked. “‘Course it is sweetheart.” He answered “You're okay though right?” “Hmm.” You hummed, he had always encouraged you to tell him what you were feeling so he could understand where you were at. “I just wanted to be with you, close to you.” “You should have said something sooner, I always want to be close to you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he leaned back moving you to a more comfortable position across his lap, he was in his slimmer form so he had less surface area to work with, you rested your head on his shoulder pressing your face to his neck to hide your eyes. “This is good.” You mumbled. “I’ll only be a couple more hours, after that we can go lay down, how does that sound?” You asked. “Great.” You mumbled softly slipping into relaxation easily.

Eraserhead

🐛 Aizawa had worked hard with you, when he had found you on the mission to take down the smudging ring. You had refused to talk to anyone but him and that was where the relationship started. 🐛 When you were well enough you started helping others, you became one of the most loved heroes using everything that they had taught you to help others. 🐛 You and Aizawa were dangerous on stealth missions, you were usually the ones called when information was needed or a job needed doing quietly. 🐛 When Aizawa got 1A, you expected to spend less time with him but instead with all of the villain attacks and the danger that followed the class meant that you spent more time together in the dorms than you ever had before.

You sat on the sofa in the room that they had given you in the dorm with the kids, you were waiting for Aizawa to do his last sweep of the dorms to make sure that all the kids were in their rooms and everyone was okay.

Your mind travelled back through everything that had happened since Aizawa had saved you, everything that he had helped you through, everything that you gained just from him helping you through your recovery. When he saved you, you didn’t even know what it meant to want something for yourself, or to deal with something outside of violence.

Your attention was drawn back to the present recognising Aizawa crouched in front of you “there you are, you back with me?” He asked. “How long have you been back?” You asked. “A couple of minutes later, I came back and you were crying.” He answered “what were you thinking about?” “Just everything that’s happened, I didn’t even realise that I was crying.” You frowned as you lifted your hands to your face wiping away the tears that were still on your cheeks. “Your okay?” He asked, you knew what he was asking, checking in to make sure that there was nothing that you needed physically, emotionally or material. “I’m okay.” You answered, throwing your arms out, he leaned forward accepting your affection and then lifting you easily from your place on the couch heading towards your bedroom. “Come on, let's get some rest.” He said softly as he took you to bed. “Yeah okay.” You nodded.

Request Here!!

[codenamesazanka]

rereading Oumagadoki Zoo oneshot!

Unfortunately, because I am this tweet:

I will drawing comparisons of it to bnha. specifically, Shigaraki and the League, because the parallels are pretty obvious.

If you haven't heard of the oneshot Oumagadoki Zoo before, it's one of Horikoshi's earlier works, a oneshot that became his first serialized manga. Premise of both the manga and the oneshot is the same: Aoi Hana, a high school girl, applies to work at a zoo, only to discover too late the zoo is a magical one where the animals can turn into humans, while the zoo director, Shiina, is a human cursed to look like a rabbit-man; she then gets dragged along into crazy adventure as the director attempts to break his curse.

The oneshot is much less zany-comedic in tone, with Shiina a more serious and ambitious character and leader, but still deeply caring for his friends, who are all outcasts animals he helped. I've compared Serialized Manga Shiina with Shigaraki before; but I've always found Oneshot Shiina to be even more similar, especially with later series Shigaraki.

In the oneshot, the first mission we see Shiina and his team go on is to rescue a talking alligator that's been captured and smuggled by people wearing skull-masks. Obviously these guys are not the good guys. They acknowledge that the talking alligator might as well be considered a person, but are still keeping him caged and ready to be sell him.

So I always wondered if they were the basis of the bnha's CRC - skull-mask wearing criminals who looks down on Spinner, a person whose quirk make him looks like a lizard. But this time they're even more evil.

In the manga, it's due to Shiina's cursed magic powers that allows the animals to turn into human form; in the oneshot, however, the animals are born with magical energies that transforms them into human form - and Shiina is only someone who finds and gathers them in order to harvest their magical energy to break his curse.

If this sounds kinda selfish, it is - which Shiina acknowledges. Shiina didn't save the talking alligator out of the goodness of his heart - he needed the alligator's magical energy, and says so bluntly.

But when Hana accuses Shiina of using the animals to his own ends, Uwabami, a snake woman, says no, all the animals are here of their own free will.

The explanation Uwabami then gives Hana about why they stay with Shiina, why they follow him, actually mirrors Spinner's last dialogue with Deku on bnha a lot:

Uwabami describes the animals that have magical energy as beings whose forms have bent away from normal and turned 'grotesque'. In Japanese, the word she uses is 'igyou', which is the same word used to describe people like Spinner - translated as 'heteromorphs' in MHA. Uwabami implies that these 'grotesque' animals had suffered, had stood out with negative consequences, and that was how Shiina was able to find them. Similarly, Spinner says that he was oppressed for being a heteromorph, for having a quirk that altered his appearance.

The context is of course different, but I think the underlying feeling is still the same. Uwabami explains Shiina and the animals' situations are similar, that in helping Shiina break his curse, the issue of the animals' magical grotesque forms may also be solved as well. Shiina's mission aligns with their desires as well. In Spinner's case, Shigaraki told the League that he'll destroy everything, which at first also seemed like it was his specific dream; but within that destruction is also promised the changes and goals each of the League wants - Shigaraki represented him.

For the animals of Shiina's zoo, they were never able to fit in, they were unneeded and unwanted - and yet Shiina would still consider them comrade and friends, and gathered them together. Much like Shigaraki did for the League: he gave someone like Spinner a dream, a chance to be someone. Gave a bunch of strays, the dregs of society, a place to be.

So both Shiina and Shigaraki - leaders loved and respected by their friends so much that those friends - Uwabami and Spinner - are both willing to so straightforwardly spill out their hearts and feelings to near strangers.

anyways, I recommend the oneshot a lot. Read here at mangadex.

[insomniamamma]

Forever's Gonna Start Tonight: Joel Miller X F! Neurodivergent!reader

A/N: hey, you all remember how Spinner was supposed to be a one-shot? LMAO. I am incapable of one shots. I started this around last Valentine's Day and felt too intimidated to finish it. I guess most of the fandom wanted to take Joel to the big dance. So I shelved it for a bit, and then, while struggling with another WIP, I revisited this and found that I still really liked it. And you know what? Fuck it. Two cakes.

Warnings: A smidge of angst. A bit of awkwardness. Mentions of crappy people in Spinner's past. Spinner is neurodivergent. This is a direct sequel to this fic, so you should probably read that one first. Dancing. Very soft kisses. Spinner is meant to be a reader inset, but she's right on the line between RC and OC.

Ellie’s already up and  gone when Joel comes downstairs, scrubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Of all the teenage orphans he could’ve ended up with he’s stuck with one who has no concept of sleeping in on a Sunday.  A mug of herb tea waits for him on the table with a saucer placed over top of it to keep it warm, and he feels himself smile, Ellie looking after him in her way, a curled scrap of paper pinned by the mug, marked with her laborious printing. Joel frowns. Ellie likes to leave him little notes when she makes it out of the house before him. Usually a shitty pun. Ellie collects puns the way a crow goes after shiny things. He cradles the mug in his hands for a moment before making his eyes focus on the note. 

Valentine’s in two days. Ask her to the dance you pussy. Joel groans. Her. You. He’s been thinking of you. More than he expected to. Paired up with you on patrol and the weather went to shit. Bad luck and punky wood that wouldn’t do much more than smolder in the stove. Your hands were so damn cold. He knew from the moment you’d finally stopped shivering and relaxed against him and started snoring into his neck that you’d become a problem. The same way Tess was a problem, Ellie is a problem. Tommy is a problem. And now there’s you. He has to remind himself sometimes that he’s safe, that Jackson is safe, that he and Tommy and Ellie are safe here. And now you are counted into that worried toll.   

He’s been thinking of you. The way your eyes will flick up and hold his before darting away. Your eyes turn away but then you smile, just a little. a soft dimpling of your cheek, like the two of you have a secret. And you do, he thinks, that night curled together, your freezing hands cradled in his, zipped your sleeping bags together like a couple of kids on a camping trip, the feel of you going lax against him, your face, your cold nose tucked into his neck, curled his arm around you and you burrowed in closer. A thread of tenderness strung between you.

 Walked you home after he found you in the square. He knows you’re not brave, but you were brave that night, even though you shook as he pulled you up from the bandstand steps, walked you home, your arm hooked through his like he’s some old time gentleman but it made you smile even if you wouldn’t quite look at him.   This is me, your porch light flickering slightly, power from the dam isn’t always consistent, there’s so much to do, so much maintenance, so many things left to rot, and he doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but you surge forward and hug him, arms banded tight around him, feel him stiffen and then his arms come up around you, tucks you tight against him, cups the back of your head and draws you close, nestles you into the column of his neck, feels you relax in to his hold.   “Thank you,” you breathed against him, allowed yourself to be held and then withdrew, caught your cold hands in his and squeezed.  “Anytime, honey,”  Your eyes didn’t quite meet his, but your cheek curved in a smile and then you closed the door between you. 

 He thinks about the two times he’s held you, the two times you’ve relaxed into his arms, but you still can’t meet his eyes. You might never meet his eyes. Joel decides he’s okay with that. The soft arc of your smile is enough.

 He settles beside you, bowl in hand, venison chili and cornbread. Your eyes flick up to him and you nod, acknowledge his presence and then go back to eating, the cornbread is nice and grainy and sweet, the chili is thin but warm and decently spicy, more potatoes and sunchokes, tough beans than venison, this is the deep of winter and things are lean, find yourself daydreaming about Olive Garden of all places, the soup and breadsticks, so much food that you always had to take some home and you feel a nudge at your elbow. Joel says nothing but slides you a bit of paper folded into a compact triangle, and you feel yourself smile, glance at Joel and he’s busy sopping up his chili with his cornbread, looks nonchalant but you can feel the bounce of his leg beneath the table, tuck some cornbread into your mouth and chew, unfold the complication of paper, yellowed with printed blue lines, ripped out of some notebook.  Will you come to the Valentine’s Dance with me? Yes. No.  The implication being that you circle your choice and hand your answer back to him. You pull a nubbin of charcoal out of your pocket and draw a circle around the “Yes”. Hold the fiddly bit of paper in your palms, not sure how to turn it back into it’s triangle shape, so you press it into orderly thirds and slide it back to him. Steal little glances at him as he reads your answer. His leg stops bouncing under the table, and when you look at him, he’s smiling.   “See you Saturday, Spinner, Joel murmurs. And you think you hear the smile in his voice but your are never sure.

 

Saturday. Saturday. Shit fire and save the matches. You said yes. You circled yes on that stupid note, like a stupid high school kid. Your experience of dancing is limited to court dances on the Ren Faire circuit with a dash of square dance and reels. You’re not sure how to act, you’re not sure what to wear. Do you have to dress fancy? Do you have to paint up your face? You have no idea what to expect so you do what you always do when some social expectation evades you.  You go and ask Maria. Bring the tiny pair of socks you’ve been working on, still not entirely pleased with the final color, more brown than yellow, still working through different mordants. You wish they’d managed to snag a display of Rit from that Walmart, but nobody thought it was important.   “Spill it,” says Maria, knows you well enough to know when something’s bothering you.  “I don’t like the color, the mordants—“  “I know all about the mordants. C’mon. Spill.”  “Joel asked me to the dance.”  “And you said yes.”   “I said yes.”  “So what’s the problem?”  “What if he’s messing with me—“ Maria laughs but then rests her hands lightly on your upper arms, a touch that means grounding, that means truth, something you would not tolerate from anyone but her.   “Do you know that man to have a sense of humor? Other than those terrible puns he saves up for Ellie?”  “Guess not. It’s just--“ You’re not sure how to word it, did plenty of dancing at Ren Faire, carefully proscribed steps and agreed upon roles, danced at your wedding reception with your ex mouthing the steps into your ear so you didn’t fuck it up, semi-formal dance in the seventh grade your mom fixed your hair and put you in a powder pink dress with a sailor collar and you’d spent the whole evening the darkest part of the gym you could find, waiting for it to be over.  “I don’t know what I’m doing, do I need a dress because—“  “It’s not prom, says Maria, No one’s gonna be fancy. Except Tim.” You feel yourself smile. Tim with his his button down shirts and fussy little bowties, tall, whip skinny and twice the age of God. No one quite knows how he made it through the outbreak, but he knows how to make explosives so no one is in a real hurry to ask.   “Tim’ll probably show up in a three piece suit.”  “Wear something with no holes and you’ll be fine.” You frown and Maria grins at you.  “That’s not exactly helpful.”  “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

 Through the next couple of days, Joel is there like he always is, a steady, unobtrusive presence, the two of you side by side over the deep sink in the caff, dish duty but you don’t mind. Soap and scrub and pass them along to Joel who rinses and sets them in the racks to dry.   “Joel?”  “Hmm?”  “I can’t dance.” He huffs laughter.  “I’ve seen you dance.” And you feel heat rising in your face, ears going hot. Someone had played the Chieftains on the juke in the Bison (hang out there more often now that you know Joel is there) and the bit of step-dancing you’d picked up on the Ren Faire circuit had come out.  “Not like normal people do.” Scrub the dishes and hand them off to him. Normal people, you hear him mutter, hold out a bowl for him to rinse and rack but he doesn’t take it.   “I could show you,” says Joel, “You know, so you’re not worried about it.”  “I’m not worried,” you say.  “Yes you are,” he says, wipes his wet hands on the towel slung over his shoulder, “Come here.” You wipe your soapy hands on your pants and stand facing him, lip bit in a frown, he holds up his hand like he means for you to give him a high five. “Give me your hand.”  Lay your palm against his and he laces his fingers through yours. “Put your other hand on my shoulder.”    “Like this?”  “Yep. I’m gonna put my hand on your hip,” he says, “That okay, Spinner?”  “Sure,” and he rests his hand on you, not gripping, not grabbing, starts swaying, foot to foot, back and forth and you mirror him, warm weight of his hand, gentle pressure that swings you around.  “That’s it? There’s no steps?”   “No steps,” says Joel. “Just like dancin at prom.”   “Never went to prom.”  “Really?” You shrug.  “We played Shadowrun instead.”  

 You settle on the wrap skirt, sewn from an old cotton bedsheet. Dyed yellow with a dusty box of Rit you found on the top shelf of a cabinet in the house they gave you. Didn’t turn out as bright as you wanted, but it’s still a nice yellow, like softened butter on a plate, and you like the patterns that the knotted twine made. Pair it with a rust colored v-neck, looted from the Walmart around the time you arrived in Jackson. You know it won’t hold up so you rarely wear it, but it looks nice with the skirt and clings to your curves in a way that isn’t entirely horrible, longies underneath your skirt because February in Jackson is fucking cold. 

 The caff looks different set up for the dance, long tables with their legs folded up, stacked against on wall, folding chairs around the perimeter, paper and fabric hearts hung from the rafters, all hung with old Christmas lights, cast your eyes around and worry, you’ve been stood up before, it wouldn’t exactly surprise you, and then you find him, tucked back by the DJ, cobbled together equipment from the high school’s AV club, too-rah loo-rah too-rah loo-ray-aay— he sees you and smiles, dimples sunk into his scruffy cheeks, stands and hurries to you, takes your hands in his.   “Wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”  “I wasn’t sure either.” Runs his thumbs over your knuckles. He’s beautiful in the low, shifting light, disco ball with a third of the little mirrors missing, little blots of light passing over the walls, catching the silver threaded through his hair-and Everything I do start’s playing, that goofy song from Robin Hood movie, and it’s on the tip of your tongue to talk about how ridiculously inaccurate the movie is, Kevin Costner’s accent was so bad, his hands folded warm around yours.  “Wanna dance?”  “Yeah. Okay.” And you let him lead you onto the floor, his hand laced with yours, your hand on his shoulder, just like you did by the deep-sink, close enough to feel his warmth but not quite touching anywhere beside where your hands rest, and in hand and his hand on the swell of your hip, the two of you turn and turn, Joel doesn’t push. He doesn’t dig his fingers in, just sways you side to side in a slow circle. It’s nice in the anonymous murk, he doesn’t try to dip you or change the pattern, Bryan Addams fades into Cindy Lauper, time after time, and he pulls you closer always liked this song, he murmurs into your hair and you nod, tuck your face into the join of his neck and shoulder unthinking, and then you stiffen, this is where he will push back, drag you back to arm’s length, and maybe ask you what the fuck you think you’re doing, but instead he breathes out a contented sigh and you turn and turn and tun in the broken light, his pulse thrumming beneath your ear, if you’re lost and you look then you will find me, and for a moment the world isn’t broken, and then Time After Time Fades out and the fucking Chicken Dance comes on.  “You wanna—“  “Absolutely not.”  “You don’t know the chicken dance?”  “Of course I know the chicken dance. I fucking hate it.”   “Let’s sit this one out then—“ and then Tommy enters like a meteor, grabs Joel by the arm   “C’mon man it’s the Chicken Dance!”  Joel shoots you a beleaguered see what I have to put up with look and lets his brother haul him onto the floor. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet, but he knows all the moves, the contrast of his grim expression and the shimmy of his hips as he wiggles his imaginary chicken tail is too much for you and you laugh bright and bold, the loud bray your parents said was unladylike, your ex said made you sound like a donkey, and for a second that old fear spikes, but no one’s looking at you, no one notices. Joel glances your way and smiles before his brother grabs his hands and swings him in a delirious apple hooch fueled arc while the accordion does it’s thing.   The music changes again and Joel extricates himself and plops down in the folding chair next to you.   “No Macarena?”  “Gotta draw the line somewhere, Spinner.” 

 A string of fast songs plays and the kids take over the floor momentarily, some recognize and some you don’t, Joel rests his hand on your knee and you lay yours over his, sit back and let them have their fun, sip strong apple hooch out of pitted plastic tumblers, burns a little going down, but makes you warm inside. You lean against him and his hand leaves your knee, arm comes up around your shoulder.   “Is this what prom was like?” Joel frowns.   “The music’s kinda the same,” he says, “But everyone was dressed up all fancy. There was lots of drama. Lots of people crying about who asked who and who dumped who.”  “Sounds stupid.”  “Yeah, I guess it was. All that shit seemed so important and now—“  “We didn’t know.” Your eyes hold his, deep wells in the dim shifting light, even though it makes you want to squirm, too many times told look me in the eye when I’m talking to you, too many times told to stop staring, stop being weird, “Joel. We didn’t know.” He turns from you and stares out over the floor, nods his head, and you wonder if you’ve said it wrong, but his arm is still draped warm over your shoulder, looks troubled, but then the lights drop and a few familiar piano notes sound and the kids scatter into the dark, confused—turn around every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you’re never comin round turn around  “Oooh this is a good one—“  “C’mon, Spinner, let’s dance.” The floor fills with couples, mostly harried survivors like you and Joel, the folks of Jackson old enough to have danced to this song in stuffy school gyms hung with crepe paper streamers and balloons, Love’s Baby soft and Darkkar Noir and flop sweat.  Maria and Tommy sway with their foreheads pressed together and eyes closed, Ellie dances theatrically, mouthing the lyrics like a cartoon opera singer to the delight of a cluster of sugared up kids who’ve formed a loose ring around her. The configuration has shifted, both your arms draped around his neck, his hands on your hips, the pretense of space between you forgotten, some murky memory of the your middle school English teacher reminding people to save room for Jesus when you danced, had no idea what that meant at the time, but now you have some idea, Joel warm and strong and flush against you, gentle susurration of his breath in your hair, warm beat of his pulse beneath your ear.   “Joel?”  “Hmm?”  “You remember this video for this song?”  “There was football players or somethin. People with glowing eyes.”  “And Ninjas. Don’t forget the ninjas. I think there was an angel too.”  “And a guy in a fencing mask,” says Joel, “I think?”   “You’re right! Glitter poured out of it when he lifted it up!”    “Then she was just some professor all along, like she dreamed the whole thing.”  “Just a dream.” You whisper against his neck and he holds you all the tighter.

 Eventually the lights come up. Happy Valentine’s Day! Ez’s voice booms through the mic and you wince, for those of us lucky in love it is time to take that noble sentiment elsewhere—  god, I hate that guy.   — For those on clean up duty now is your time to shine. Everyone else needs to skedaddle. I will now play some skedaddlin music. And true to his word, that shit techno cover of Cotton Eye Joe starts playing at migraine levels, stagger out into the frigid night, clear and still and biting cold, got a bit more tipsy than you intended. Cider for when the seasons turn, applejack for the dead of winter, but Joel is right beside, hand hovered just over your hip in case you falter.   He’s walked you home enough times that it’s not a question any more. You don’t have to. I know. Got nowhere else to be, Spinner.   “This is me,” you say, you always say, faint flicker of your porch light. Power from the dam is not always the most steady. So many things left to rot, so many things to fix.  “I know,” he says, like always, You hug him, squeeze your arms around him tight.  “Thank y—“  “Stop that, Spinner. You don’t have to thank me for loving you-“  “You love me.” You draw back from him. It comes out as a statement and not a question, and here’s where he will retract, will back pedal,  say he didn’t mean it, it was the applejack doing the talking, the applejack and the music from when you were both young and none of this had happened yet.  “Yeah, I do.” And when you hook your eyes to his, they are wide and deep and dark with worry, and you can’t look at him, gaze slides to the curve of his shoulder, the shape of him against the starshot sky, so much brighter now that everything is over. His hands find yours and, his thumbs brush back and forth over your knuckles. And you have so many questions, since when? That freezing night on the trail? Before? After? Why?   “For real?” Is the question that comes out, and you hate how small you sound, how your voice wavers. Squeezes your hands in his.  “For real.”  “Since that night?”  “I think so. I don’t know. Holdin you, it felt right. Feels right. Shit. I’m real bad at this-“ You laugh, breath plumed out like dragon smoke,   “Me too.”  “Tommy used to make fun of me. Said I could never tell when girls were tryin to flirt with me.”  “I can’t flirt to save my life. Never could. None of that ever made sense to me.”  “Good thing I didn’t try some crappy pick up line, huh?”  “Very good thing. There was this one guy in high school he started walking around me like this—“ You drop Joel’s hands and start orbiting him, watch that lovely smile crawl it’s way up his cheek.  “—and when I asked him what the fuck he was doing he said, I’m part wolf, baby, we always circle our prey.”   Joel guffaws, his eyes screwed up in crinkled crescents, rests a desperate hand on your shoulder as he doubles over— “That is. The dumbest. Goddam thing I have ever heard in my life—“  “I didn’t know whether to laugh at him or punch him. So I just kind of stared at him. And he went away.”  “I bet he did.  Look, Spinner, I didn’t mean to blurt it right out like I did but I do mean it. You don’t—“ He swipes his hand over the back of his neck, “If you don’t feel the same m’not gonna push. Shit, I’m sorry-“ You reach for him unthinking and cradle his stubbly cheeks in your palms. His eyes are big and wide and shining, he’s scared, you think, at least as scared as you are, and the words aren’t coming. In a movie you’d have some perfect come-back, something you could say that would make all the things roiling in your mind seem clear and concise. In a movie there’d be a declaration, something that would roll out of you and the music would swell, but now there’s only Joel’s warm, dark eyes and the yellow thrum of your porch light and the brittle chill in the air. You can’t say. You can’t make what you’re feeling, what you’ve been feeling, resolve into words, so you kiss him instead, press your lips to his and he kisses back, mirrors you, warm, calloused palms cradle your face.   

Not sure if it’s you or him who deepens the kiss, mingled breath and gentle touches, soft meeting of lips and tongues and hands, feels fevered and rushed and right,  he tastes like applejack and when you break for air he rests his forehead against yours.   “Wow.” He breathes against your lips.  “Yeah.” Leaned into each other, foreheads pressed together, swaying together, a bit like dancing together in the caff, no disco ball just the bright and brittle sky, a million pin-point stars stitched through the black.   “You can come in if you—“  “We both been drinkin”  “You don’t want—“  “I do, but I wanna do this right,” draws the backs of his fingers down the curve of your cheek, “I want to love you the right way, honey. We’ve got time.” You wrap your arms around him and tuck your face against his neck where it feels safe, cups the back of your head in his warm palm, cradles you close.  “Does this mean we’re going steady? Do people still say that? Going steady?” Joel chuckles, and you feel it, low rumble of laughter transmitted from his chest to yours, threading beneath the beat of his pulse in your ear.   “Yeah. I think we are.”

[adel-memes]

I want to write something about Vio & Blue or Blue & Shadow or all three but I don't know what 😩

[kanrachan483]

Pillangóház (Dabi x Reader) (on Wattpad)

Főszereplő hölgyünk az éjszaka egy nemes pillangója. A többi hasonló sorsú lánnyal együtt szórakoztatják vendégeiket, a Pillangóház nevezetű piroslámpás épületben esténként. Hősnőnk életében már sok férfi megfordult, de munkáján kívül nem fordított rájuk nagyobb figyelmet. Azt gondolta már nem lepheti meg senki. Közömbös mosolyát magára öltve, ül le újabb és újabb vendégek mellé minden este, azonban a sors összehozza egy olyan férfival, aki felkelti érdeklődését nehéz természetével. Vajon ez a férfi kiérdemli a lány teljes figyelmét? Vagy ő is a feledés homályába merül?

Boku no Hero Academia (My Hero Academia) sztoriját Dabi múltjával kapcsolatban érintjük!

A történet +18-as részeket tartalmaz, ha érzékeny vagy az ilyesmire kérlek ne olvasd!

Jó szórakozást!

Kép forrása: https://twitter.com/a___0___i___7/status/1646144522609389571

Történet:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/352139353-pillang%C3%B3h%C3%A1z-dabi-x-reader?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=KanraChan483&wp_originator=dmAECRunUAX7s1mN1ArOwZOgryNT3T9lpTshd8NWPXyao0Y1Ecv4xOyuGcBtpbAbwOi%2Bola6osR95wVEgtpLdw5QVYgy5CxkF%2B8C0f6vee%2Bi35M4YtHv64hiWUwZhiJ4

[rueclfer]

not a lot, just forever // oneshot part three

a/n: the last of the bday oneshots for my favorite trio <3 this one hit a little different for me and i think its because i've never written post war canon-adjacent shigs before so this was really healing <3 happy birthday tomutomu i love you foreverrr

keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

it’s still so frustratingly embarrassing for tomura; the glances glazing over him by the passersby, being present, taking up space, all of it. despite all of the time that had passed and the constant work in therapy and counseling, nothing was harder than existing.

“i want to go inside,” tomura mutters, his gloved fingers tapping against his outstretched legs. 

it was a bit humid, and the sun was beating down on the two of you, but you knew tomura was itching for a hoodie to hide under. he desperately wanted to be invisible.

“this is nice though, isn’t it?” you sigh in content, leaning your head back and letting the sunlight engulf your face. “i don’t remember the last time i was able to sit in a park like this.”

“it feels too open.”

“does it feel too open or are you just too used to being trapped?” you squint your eyes open, slightly peering over at him next to you on the bench.

he scoffs and kicks your foot with his. you catch the end of his eye roll and take it as an opportunity to scoot in closer, letting your thighs graze together.

“sorry,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. “i know it’s hard.”

hard wasn’t the word tomura would use to describe his recovery process. he felt lost- as if he had been dumped in the middle of the desert with no sense of direction, and the worst of it all was that it was lonely.

spinner had written his book. dabi was in his family’s care. toga was off in quirk counseling. you were rapidly progressing. he was nothing.

“what do i do now?” he whispers back to you- something that you two often did for a private moment when you caught each other in the hallways of the rehabilitation center.

“we,” you emphasize, looping your arm in tomura’s, “are free to do whatever we want.”

“we…” he slowly repeats, “you know, you don’t have to stick with me anymore,” he half heartedly chuckles, “you can do whatever you want now that we’ve graduated from this bullshit.”

you think back on those late nights at the hideout when you two would be the only ones up. you'd be sitting at the bar, knees to knees, closely leaning into one another, talking in hushed tones, and exchanging light touches as you pass an energy drink back and forth.

you remember those times fondly where you could pretend to be anyone else, but there was always that looming dread in the back of your head during those days.

this won’t last forever.

i can’t get too attached.

i’ll love you for as long as i can.

here you were now, side by side as things turned out wildly different from what you expected- that the next time you’d see tomura would be in the afterlife.

you’ve spent too long shutting down any thought of the future that envisioning it now leads to a scribbled mass of grey in your mind. you couldn’t visualize it. no plan. no expectancies. nothing. you had nothing to be sure of except for the fact that you and tomura were here and alive.

where else would you want to be?

you don’t say anything except for a hm that you breathed out.

tomura’s deep exhale almost nudges you off of his shoulder. you’re half tempted to peer up at his face to gauge his expression, but the fidgety hands in his lap already gives away his feelings as the beat of silence passes.

“you remember what we talked about? all those years ago when we were hiding out at that shitty bar?”

“we talked a lot, babe,” you lightly chuckle, “you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that.”

“about what we’d do if things were different.” 

“rob a bank and leave japan with new identities?” you joke.

tomura deadpans, “dumbass, i’m talking about the last night that… you know.”

the last night you were you?

“oh that conversation,” you mutter, uncomfortably shifting in your seat, "remind me what we talked about?”

“you don’t remember?” 

truthfully, it would be impossible for you to forget when that conversation was the only thing that got you through the agonizing nights in the hospital room when you thought you had been the only survivor.

“i do, but i like hearing you talk so remind me anyway.”

tomura responds with an annoyed huff, “well if you remember, then i’m not going to repeat it. i just mentioned it because clearly neither of us know what the fuck we’re going to do with our lives after this.”

you unloop your arm from his and sit up, making him snap his attention towards you. it was the first time today that he looked you in the eyes. his cheeks were flushed from the sun- the first sign of life in his face in a long time after the limited outside time allotted from the rehab facility.

“we talked about wanting a quiet life,” you quietly say, reaching your hand up to tuck a tuft of his shaggy hair behind his ear. “not in the country though. you wanted to stay in the city for the convenience, so maybe a nice little apartment. you still want that?”

he slowly nods his head. “think so.”

from his ear, your hand trails down to his jaw and neck, running across old scars from deep scratches.

“and i specifically remember you being so mad at me when i laughed at you when you said you didn’t give a fuck about anything else as long as you could have a dog.”

“still want one,” he mutters.

“and then…” you continue slowly, resting your hand on the rough skin of his neck, “i told you that i was a cat person, but i didn’t care as long as we…”

you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. it had always been an unwritten rule to never talk about the “what ifs” and “what could’ve beens” in the hideout, but you always loved breaking the rules, and tomura loved entertaining your thoughts.

the tips of his ears began to match the blush on his cheeks. 

“keep going,” he barely whispers, keeping his eyes locked on yours- one of the small meaningful things that he had grown to do over the last few years in therapy.

“as long as we could be together. i just wanted to be with you.” you quietly say. “i still do. if that's okay."

a beat of silence passes. a life with you. a dog and maybe a cat. nothing else. no expectations. just you and whatever "normal" life you two could live.

“we should…” he trails off for a moment, thinking of the right words to say, “get married?”

you blink one. twice.

“hah?” you exclaim, recoiling back.

your hand slaps onto the back of the bench to leverage yourself through the motion.

“what?” his face deepens in color “what else are we supposed to fucking do?"

“how did we go from yeah i want to move into an apartment and raise a dog with you to marriage?” you laugh, almost unbelieving.

“i don’t know? just shut up,” he grumbles, “forget i said anything.”

tomura turns his head away from you, looking off in the other direction as he curses at himself. he doesn’t know how to tell you that yes, that’s exactly what he wants too- that existing may be hard, but he wants nothing more than to do it with you.

his face is burning from the embarrassment, but you’re still giggling to yourself and he can’t resist himself from turning back to watch. 

you two have never dared to utter “i love you” to one another before, but in that moment , he felt it on the tip of his tongue and for once, he’s not afraid to let it out.

“i love you, okay?” he says confidently, but his eyes are unable to meet yours until you force them to.

you reach up and hold his face in your hands, bringing him in closely. “i love you,” you lightly run your thumbs across the apples of his cheeks as his eyes dart back and forth between yours, “and we should get married."

[d1s1ntegrated]

Imagine Shigaraki with shy bookworm reader, who just hides her face blushes behind a book when she feels like he’s nearby?🤭

bookworm (nsfw)

shigaraki x shy!reader oneshot

summary: shigaraki catches you reading a verrryyyy dirty novella, and makes those chapters feel real.

btw this wasnt proofread, sorry if there are some minor mistakes!

cw: dirty talk, p/v, rough sex, overstimulation, corruption kink, slight breeding kink?, oral (fem rec), groping, shiggy is a hugeeee perv, mean shiggy, shy reader, missionary, teasing, dacryphilia, begging, minimal use of y/n, degradation, slight book abuse (sorry! but its for the plot)

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

"what are you doing?" shigaraki's voice cuts through the paragraph you were halfway through, causing you to jump. you slide your bookmark slowly between the pages.

"just reading" you answer him softly, and he scoffs.

"tch, again?" he rolls his eyes, "are you gonna do anything else today?"

you shake your head, reopening to the page you left off on. "probably not. it just got good" you retort, and refocus your eyes onto the dramatic scene. you look up at him over the top of the book- he's perched up on the arm of the old couch, picking at the already-ripped hangnails on his calloused hands. you watch him secretly for a few seconds before you plant your nose back into the book again, sighing contentedly. he suddenly interrupts you again by sliding down the arm and plopping down onto the worn seat. he audibly sighs and groans, and you tilt your head at him.

"is something wrong, shigaraki?" you ask innocently, and he huffs.

"tch. no. i'll leave you be" he slinks off the couch and heads over to the bar. you watch as he runs his slender fingers through his baby blue hair, and smile to yourself. he throws himself onto a barstool dramatically and you giggle lightly, but catch yourself.

"you know" he starts from across the room, "if you spent half as much time with the league as you do reading, you might actually learn something useful" he says matter-of-factly, and you bite your lip, fighting the urge to say something back.

its not that you weren't involved with the leagues missions- you were their perfect alibi. a small bookshop owner who just so happened to settle into the wrong part of town. it wasn't your fault the league found you useful, and it certainly wasn't your fault that their bribe was far too good to pass up. keep the shop, and you, out of chaos's way, and they use your place as not only a hideout, but a resource for information.

over the past few months playing pretend with them, you actually grew comfortable with the villains. toga came to the shop regularly with magne to read every trashy romance novel and gossip with you about boys. kurogiri would pop in and out on the premise of "needing information per tomura's request", and twice and spinner both enjoyed the comic section from time to time. you didn't see much of dabi, but when you did, he'd flit through the horror section, then secretly the romance section, ultimately to leave without a word, with a few books tucked under his coat. you acted like you didn't notice, because after a week or so, they'd return to their spots on the shelves. the only one you didn't see regularly was shigaraki.

shigaraki avoided seeing you as much as possible, and you subconsciously did the same. he liked to stay in his secluded hideaway, left to his own devices (literally, his devices. aka his PC). but when you started living at their base because your lease ended, and you didn't have the money to renew it AND keep the bookshop running (undercover work is hard, y'know!), you realized fast why exactly you didn't like coming face to face with tomura.

not only was he kind of an asshole, not to mention competitive, with a sharp and venomous tongue, he was so, so hot. his scars decorated his face like little strokes of paint on a canvas. his angular nose and carmine eyes were placed so perfectly on his pale skin. his thin lips dragging upwards into a predatory grin whenever he spoke of all things horrid. withal, the little birthmark just below those lips, that you found yourself fantasizing about kissing from time to time. just to see what it'd be like, of course. pure curiosity, nothing more. overall, the man was a picture-perfect portrait of your worst nightmare antagonist from the books you loved so much.

you weren't afraid of him per se, but you damn sure were intimidated. so you kept your head low, and your voice down around him. you were typically the quiet type, but something about him made you silent. as if one wrong word would cause him to turn and grip you tightly with all five fingers, turning you to nothing more than a fleeting memory.

he got off on your timidity. he looked at you like a helpless bunny, and he was the big scary wolf. you'd never admit it, but you got off on it equally the same. so when he'd approach you, you'd shove your face further into the pages of your book, as if getting closer to the words would save you from his vermillion gaze.

"i'm sorry, shigaraki. i just figured the further i stay away from the league's...well, anything, it would be safer for us overall." you masterfully answer him as to not provoke him. he stands from his seat and cracks his knuckles, dragging out his next reply.

"that doesn't mean you have to be completely oblivious to the world around you." he slowly approaches the back of the couch, and you feel yourself heat up at the proximity. he leans over the couch slightly to get closer, and you instinctively raise the book to cover everything up to your eyes. you blink at him and he smirks.

"what are you reading, anyways?" he snatches the book from your hands with three fingers and flips through it, eyes widening at the passage he lands on. he raises his eyebrows and you sink into yourself, covering your face with the sleeves of your oversized jumper.

"please," you croak out, "can i have it back?". your pleading sends a devilish smile to creep onto his face, and he shoves the book back into your hands.

"i didn't know our perfect little y/n was so, so filthy" he draws your name out with a teasing tone.

your face flushes and he chuckles.

"and here i thought you were the spitting image of innocence. seems as though i thought wrong for once" his face is inches from yours, his fingers tapping against the back of the couch. you can smell the combination of redbull and musky cologne on him, he's so close. you inhale sharply, breath hitching in your chest as he saunters around, swinging himself back over onto the unoccupied seat of the couch.

you don't answer as he asks another tantalizing question, causing him to lean over onto your legs, repeating it.

"i said," he raises his eyes to meet yours, "why'd you turn so quiet all of a sudden?"

you shake your head and look up at him, hovering over you.

"i'm always quiet..." you reply shakily, and he laughs.

"you're so pitiful, y/n, you know that?" he snakes a hand up to your thigh, drumming four fingers against the exposed skin under your shorts.

you nod and try to ignore him best as possible by reopening the book. this makes him even bolder, as he pinches your thigh, between thumb and forefinger, causing you to gasp out from behind the novel.

"don't act like i didn't see what you were reading there, slut." his voice is lower now, and his words slice through the core of your stomach and send pangs of heat through you. you giggle nervously as he creeps further, covering your very obvious desire with chapter 32 of your now clearly smutty book. he chuckles and drags his fingers under your sweater, tucking his ring finger down as not to hurt you. he trails up, underneath the hem of your bra, and forcefully pinches at one of your already-puffy nipples. you stifle a moan as you feel your core liquify, and he groans at the contact of your soft flesh on his cold, rough fingers. he pushes himself on top of you, your legs automatically spreading open for him as he drives his still-clothed hips down to meet yours. the friction alone drives you both wild, and he growls.

"you ever read any books where the villain gets the girl?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. you don't answer, but peer at him over the top of the book again and nod.

"is this one of them?" he flicks the back of the book and you jump, but nod again.

he hums passionately at your reaction and answer. then, without warning, he grips onto the hem of your shorts with all five fingers, sending them off of you into a pile of dust. your eyes widen, and you frown slightly. at least they were old, and already kind of ready to be replaced. he laughs and undoes the button of his jeans, yanking his pants and boxers down with them. you watch as his cock springs free, taken aback by the sheer size of it. it's not huge, but it's lengthy still, with a pretty dusty rose tint to the tip. it glistens with precum already, and he strokes it with three fingers as he watches you squirm, body clearly acting faster than your mind.

he grinds his dick down between your legs, brushing against the soft cotton of your underwear. he exhales sharply at the contact, and you bite your lip, feeling your wetness pressed against the material.

he pushed the seam of your panties to the side and dips a slender finger inside of you, and you gasp. he curls it, massaging one of your spots before promptly removing the finger and placing it into his mouth, sucking your essence off his finger with a slick pop, moaning.

"fuck, you taste better than i expected" he grumbles, and you whimper out a "hmm?"

"i don't know why i expected you to taste like paper or somethin'" he snickers and lowers his head down to your heat, licking your clit lazily. you moan out loud this time, with breathy little pants as his tongue dips into you. where he learned this, you're unsure, but his devouring sends your head back against the arm of the couch, unable to stifle your desperation anymore. he shoves a finger back inside while his mouth licks and nips at your swollen clit, and you feel yourself cresting towards orgasm. your eyes flutter shut as the tension inside of you builds, further and further, driving you insane. you whimper at his rapid movements, and the tight strings inside of you snap suddenly, sending white-hot currents to ripple through you. you clench tightly around his finger and he laps up your cum greedily, groaning at your collapse.

"i'm gonna show you why it's so important to pay attention to the outside world, baby" he whispers in your ear as he positions his cock to your opening. you nod and he presses the tip in slowly, emitting a small gasp from the both of you. he shudders as he slips it in, feeling you already clenched around his length.

he yanks the book from your hands, uncovering your face. he tosses the book to the floor and wraps four fingers around your neck gently.

"need you to pay attention to me baby, those words aren't gonna fuck you like i will" he thrusts into you hard, disallowing you to adjust fully. he pulls out and you breathe deeply, but he doesn't wait. he shoves it back in forcefully, the tip smacking against your cervix. you groan out in a mix of pleasure and pain, and he tightens the grasp on your neck slightly.

"look so good like this, slut, taking the big villains cock like this" he grumbles out into your ear, and you melt into a pool of desire. his words are enough to send you, but you hold back, craving more of him. he begins rutting into you rhythmically, slamming into your core with soft "slaps". he brings his hand off your neck to grab your face, pressing his cracked lips to yours. he shoves his tongue into your mouth and you taste yourself, sending a shiver down your spine. his moans tangle with yours as he picks up speed, and you feel as he sequentially grinds against your clit, the soft hair creating friction on your sensitive spot. you whimper at the contact and he bites on your lower lip.

"tell me how much you like this, filthy whore. tell me how badly you want my vile seed inside of you." he growls against your lips and you shiver again.

"i, shigaraki, please, i need it" you stutter out, and he groans.

"you're so pathetic. you want me to ruin you, huh?" he ends the question with a hard thrust, a shockwave of pain coursing through you. you nod and he continues, "what a depraved thing you are. you sit in front of me every fucking day and tease me, you know that?" he snarls.

"yes, i'm sorry, shigaraki, i'm sorry for being so filthy" you cry out, and he sends a swift slap to your thigh.

"don't apologize. i don't need an apology. i want to hear you beg." he sneers.

"please, shigaraki, please" you follow his orders dutifully, and he smiles wide.

"please what, wicked baby?" he thrusts into you hard and fast, his breathing staggering.

"please, let me cum, please, i need it, i need you to break me" you admit with tears rolling down your cheeks. he growls again and smacks your thigh again, digging four fingers into the pliable flesh again.

"break you? oh no, slut. i'm going to make it so that even the gods will turn their backs to you. you're mine, and by that, you're just as sick as i am now" he snaps, his voice a raspy and heavy breath. you clench tightly around him, his cock stretching you painfully still as you feel every ounce of purity in you dissipate. your moans and cries permeate the air with a sharpness that the whole city could hear, and you shatter forcefully around him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer as your hips buck up, riding up to the intensity of the orgasm with a rushed mantra of "fucks, please's, and yes's." your own voice shocks you as the peak hits you, causing you to shout his name out with offensive indulgence.

"fuck, tomu, oh fuckfuckfuck, tomura" his name spills from your lips like honey, and he fractures inside of you at the sound. he pushes himself as deep as he can, hissing as he spills inside of you. the heat seeps through your entire body, feeling the stickiness coating your walls deeply. he twitches inside of you as he crashes down from his own orgasm, and sucks in air sharply as he pulls out slowly. the pain immediately hits you, choking a sharp cry out of you.

he hovers over you still, nipping at your neck. you sob out from overstimulation as he pumps his cum inside you more with a finger again for a few seconds before pulling it out.

"had to make sure it was really in there" he whispers, and you huff weakly.

"so?" he asks quietly, growling next to your ear, "was it comparable to your shitty book?" he teases. you nod and glance at the book strewn on the floor.

"better than." your voice is strained from the screaming, and he chuckles. you reach down and grab the title off the floor, shoving it into his hands, and on instinct he grabs hold of it with only a few fingers. you shake your head and motion with your hands.

"get rid of it." you say dismissively, and he gives you a confused look.

"it was only a placeholder for you anyways" you shrug, and with a snicker, he wraps his hands fully around the book as it crumbles to dust in his hands.

"does this mean you're done with the reading?" he asks snarkily, and you shake your head.

"no, it just means i'm done trying to compare you to a few chapters."

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

eeeenjoy! i went kinda hard with this one ngl. i lowkey really wanted a reason to write a little out of my usual loser!shiggy style, and something took over me for this.

thank you as always for the request <3

[givetomurasomechapstick]

League of Villains and a Baby Toddler

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Is THIS an epilogue? I have no idea anymore.

Oneshot/Part 1: League of Villains and a Baby

Headcanons: Epilogue headcanons (?)

Notes: Fem Reader implied! Btw fighting over you + a free side dish of slight feral Spinner.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Just imagine how this would all go down.

We already remember how much Tomura DIDN'T want the baby.

So just think about how it is now.

A four year old child running around a villain lair? With unsupervised weapons? AND the most wanted criminals in Japan?

I feel like this is something we already went over.

Let's just make sure you don't touch Toga's knives.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

"Spinner, I can't take this anymore!" Shigaraki half yelled, vigorously scratching his neck. The little toddler running around the room, with Spinner closely chasing behind. "Don't worry boss, just give me a minute and I'll-ack!" Twice, who was also chasing the child, had banged his head into Spinner's as the kid stuck her tongue out at them.

"You gotta be kidding me." Shigaraki scowled, his itching toning down a bit. "I see where she gets her energy from." Dabi mumbled, sparing a glance Toga's way, which she quickly caught on to. "Hey! At least she isn't a brat like you!" She growled.

Meanwhile, Spinner was almost crying. Literally, the child is like the only thing that makes him cry. And often. I feel like (Y/N) is secretly tearing him apart slowly. "S-Star... Come here PLEASE and stop running around." He called out to, which you reacted with a pout. "Hey! Don't do that-" "Baby (Y/N), come here." Toga opened her arms and you ran into them, shifting it into a hug.

Spinner was heartbroken though. He's the one who found you, took care of you (well technically, the entirety of the League does), and most likely loved you the most out of all of them. Why don't you listen to him?!

"See, Baby (Y/N) listened to me. Maybe that's just because she likes me more." Spinner was triggered by those words and lunged at Toga, who was still holding the child, only to be held back by Compress.

"Now now, no time to get feral. It was most likely meant to bother you." Compress told the lizard, pulling him into a straighter position. "Maybe crazy is right and the brat does like her better." Dabi remarked, turning his back to the rest of them.

Spinner literally growled at that. Showing his rather sharp canines before snatching (Y/N) out of Toga's arms. "She's MINES. I only shared her because I thought it be easier for me but it isn't! But she's always been mines!" Spinner held the child close to his chest tightly, not letting go.

"(Y/N) doesn't belong to anyone but herself." Compress sighed dealing with this scenario again, shading his face with his gloved hand.

"Spinner. If she were yours then you wouldn't announce her to us and you would keep her a secret from us until I threaten to decay you." Shigaraki grumbled. Now glaring at the bundle of energy in Spinner's arms.

"No! I would never!" "Because you wanted all of us to take care of her, not keep her to yourself." While Spinner and Shigaraki were bickering, (Y/N) slipped out of Spinner's firm grip somehow, and ran off to her room.

Sighing as she closed her room door and locked it behind herself, she looked through the window. "(Y/N)!" Practically everyone yelled out in unison.

"Where is she?" Dabi muttered. "How could you lose her while talking about she's yours? While holding her?" Shigaraki hissed, frantically itching his neck again. "She couldn't of gone too far." Compress said, in a much calmer tone than the others. "How could you?" Toga growled, taking out her knife and slowly creeping up on Spinner. "Yeah, how could you?!" Twice yelled, as he re-entered the room after sneaking away earlier. "Wait, what are we yelling about again?"

"(Y/N)!"

Some of them yelled out the name, one of them spoke calmly one of them growled and the other said it barely audible.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)?! You mean like, our child?" Twice asked, before Shigaraki made a look of grimace and Spinner just growled again. "Please don't word it like that." Shigaraki muttered, while at the same time Spinner yelled "She's MINES."

"She's probably just in her room." Compress spoke up quite loudly to catch everyone's attention. Everyone turned to face him, which led to Spinner noticing how Toga had a knife against his neck in the corner of his vision.

Before you know it, they were tripping over eachother getting to the child's room, slamming open the door to find an open window but no (Y/N) in sight. That definitely caused chaos.

Spinner was practically crying on his knees, Toga was throwing everything around to find you, including Twice, Compress was looking around the room for maybe other clues where she went, Dabi had already walked out and so did Shigaraki, who were both separately secretly planning to look outside for her.

However, she quickly walked into the room with a glass of milk in her hands. No one notices though until she lightly tapped Spinner's shoulder, and quickly handing him the milk she had originally got for herself.

"Here daddy. Sorry if I worried you... all." The words ran through his head, and he quickly brought the child into a tight hug, tearing up. Compress just patted his shoulder when she started muffled speaking in his chest. He also slightly parted the two.

But Toga quickly broke the endearing moment by stealing (Y/N) away from Spinner, holding her close to her. "Mines." Compress sighed. "I thought we got over this. "Got over what? Not at all!" Twice remarked, because he wasn't there, remember? Actually, maybe you don't, but that's why I put that there.

Anyways,

Dabi peaked inside the room after hearing all the commotion from even where he was at, to find that (Y/N) was found. He let a barely hearable sigh of relief before walking away.

Shigaraki, however...

"What do you mean she just walked in?" He scowled, having big thick gloves over his hands holding the child right to his chest. Rare protective Shiggy moment. ~

"Idiots. She should be mines." "But you hated her." Twice comebacked before slowly making a peace sign and walking backwards into the hallways as Shigaraki growled.

"Not anymore. She needed help a long time ago and still needs help." "Yeah, that's why we took her in. So we could raise ber." Compress reminded him, before getting shouted at. "NO, she still needs to be saved from you dumb NPCs." "You didn't just call us-" Spinner got cut off. "Yes. Yes I did. Now stop testing my patient and LEAVE."

Anyways, at the end of the day we learn that the LoV are still terrible with kids.

[scary-grace]

one way to live (not recommended) - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

Tomura doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about his one and only ex-girlfriend, but winter always brings back the memories a little more strongly. When he runs into you again, ten years after the breakup he instigated, he's not opposed to seeing where things go. After all, he hasn't changed much -- but you have.

This fic is for @deadhands69, who prompted me with #8 from this list: but me I'm not a gamble/you can count on me to split. I went a little into the weeds on this one, so if it's not your speed, please let me know and I'll write you a new one for this prompt (or you can pick another!) I apologize for the wait. Modern AU, no quirks, 4k words, angst.

Tomura wakes up facedown on his keyboard to the sound of ping after ping going off through his speakers. For a second all he can think about is how much his neck hurts, so much that he might actually message Magne for the name of that chiropractor she keeps going on about. Then he remembers what he was doing before he fell asleep and sits up in a hurry. “Fuck!”

He was streaming. He was streaming, with hundreds of people watching, and he fucking fell asleep in the middle of it. Tomura thinks about apologizing for a split second, but given the number of pings still going off as he sits up and blinks sleep out of his eyes, the chat isn’t exactly mad about it. Tomura looks a little closer.

MD_DEVICE self-care livestream whennnnnn

my man’s avatar has been doing the funky chicken for three hours and I can’t look away

f in the chat if you think he looks cute when he’s sleeping

bro go to bed

seriously go to bed

sleeeeeeep

i will pay you to log off and go to bed

whose name were you saying just now

The longer Tomura spends reading through the messages, the worse it gets. Three hours? People were debating whether he looked cute? He doesn’t see a single F in the chat, but somebody’s sent him money to log off and go to bed. Multiple people have sent him money to do that, like he’s an e-girl who has to catch up on her skincare routine or some shit. But as annoying as that is, the last question in the line-up is worse. “I wasn’t saying anybody’s name. I don’t talk in my sleep.”

bold words for a guy who’s been dead to the world for the last few hours

Tomura knows that username. “Dabi, get the fuck off my stream.”

lol no

whose name were you saying again?

Now that Tomura looks, Dabi’s username isn’t the only one he recognizes. He sees Twice’s username, and Dabi’s, and Toga’s. Tomura’s mod is supposed to kick them out if they show up in his streams. Speaking of Tomura’s mod – he pulls up a direct-message and messages Spinner. get rid of them. why didn’t you wake me up?

I tried! What was I supposed to do, come over to your house? Spinner must be multitasking, because Dabi’s, Toga’s, and Twice’s usernames vanish in quick succession. People were still watching. I figured it was a bit.

Tomura catches a glimpse of himself in the corner of his screen. His eyes are bloodshot, he’s almost definitely been drooling, and there are keyboard imprints on one side of his face. What the fuck kind of bit could he possibly have been running? Whatever. It won’t matter as long as he gets out of this fast. He faces the camera again. “Since you all want me to go to sleep so bad –”

sleep

sleep

sleeeeep

whose name were you saying

^

^

^

^

 “We’re going to finish this later,” Tomura growls, fighting the urge to yawn. “Thanks for sticking around for – that – and remember, the enemy’s gate is down.”

He cuts the feed about two seconds after he says his stupid catchphrase, then slumps back in his chair and yanks his headphones off. His head hurts. His mouth tastes like garbage. Spinner sends over the earnings report from the – fucking hell, seven-hour stream, and Tomura sees that he can apparently make as much money drooling on his keyboard as he can actually playing the game. Somehow that makes him feel even more like shit. He looks stupid when he sleeps. Everyone was probably laughing at him. He doesn’t need to go back through the chat log and check.

Messages start popping up on his screen, this time from his groupchat with his friends, all of whom he’s pissed at right now. Toga’s first up. Don’t be mad, Tomura-kun! We only logged on because Spinner said you were sleeping in there.

Don’t throw me under the bus like that! I was just asking you what I should do!

You look like shit. When was the last time you went outside? Dabi sends that, then sends another message, rapid-fire. Were you seriously saying your ex’s name in your sleep?

What? Tomura’s face heats up so fast that it’s a miracle he doesn’t burst into flames. If this had happened five seconds earlier while his video was on, he would have nuked his account. Twice chooses this second to chip in. you can’t pine for a girl you dumped. I’m kidding! Pine away! Pine until you start sprouting cones!

I’m with Dabi, sweetie. You look like shit. Magne sends a heart along with that message, like that makes it any better. I think you need to get some outside time. What do you all call it?

Touching grass, Toga says. Tomura-kun go outside challenge.

Tomura’s not going outside. It’s fucking cold.

That sounds like a you problem, Dabi texts. Get your crusty ass outside or

Or what? Tomura’s pretty sure he’s got nothing.

A new name pops up in the chat. Or I’ll make the party do a side quest before they can break your sleeping curse, Compress says. Tomura swears. Go outside.

Compress is the DM for this round of D&D, and he’s not as much of a hard-ass as Dabi was when he was running it – but Tomura knows damn well that he’s not screwing around. And there’s no way Tomura’s spending another session sitting off to one side under a stupid sleeping curse while everyone else gets to play. if I go get coffee will all of you shut up?

Take a selfie! For proof! Twice insists. If you get coffee you can stay awake while you pine!

Tomura’s not fucking pining. He levers himself up out of his chair and goes looking for his jacket. And his scarf.  And his shoes. It takes him so long to find any of them that he starts wondering if his friends don’t have a point about how long it’s been since he left his apartment.

While he searches, his friends keep messaging. I logged on late. Was he really talking in his sleep?

Not really talking. Mumbling. Except the name.

HER name. Toga sends a Star Wars gif for some reason – some old guy saying he hasn’t heard something in a long time. I haven’t thought about her in forever! did we ever find out what happened to her?

Tomura finds his jacket, then his shoes, and glances back at the screen to see the rest of his friends answering in the negative. He closes the message window, powers off the computer, and heads out the door. By the time the elevator hits the lobby, he’s already regretting leaving his apartment. The doors to his apartment building are glass. Even inside the lobby, it’s way too cold.

But he said he’d go outside, and he’d send proof. Tomura steels himself, steps outside, and starts down the street. There’s a coffee shop two blocks away. Maybe he won’t even stick around to buy coffee. He can just go inside, take a selfie, and go home. Tomura checks his phone while he’s waiting for the traffic light to change and sees that his friends are still lighting up the groupchat. It looks like they’re debating whether it’s more embarrassing to say your ex’s name in your sleep or during sex. Most people are saying sex, but Toga’s arguing that saying someone’s name in your sleep is worse. Sex is just sex. If you’re talking about them in your sleep it means they’re on your mind the rest of the time too.

Tomura’s not weighing in on that conversation, but he sort of wants to set the record straight. You aren’t always on his mind. He doesn’t think about you all that much. Sure, the two of you dated for a couple years, but that was at university, almost a decade ago – and Tomura’s the one who ended it. He just thinks about you a little more at this time of year. You always loved the cold, almost as much as Tomura hated it. Just one more thing you didn’t have in common.

That’s not why Tomura broke up with you, though. The two of you were different people, but Tomura would have gotten bored with somebody exactly like him. The important thing was that you understood each other, that you didn’t try to make each other something you weren’t. You never asked Tomura to be anything except who he was. Tomura felt safe with you, like he’d never felt safe with anybody. Safe to have whatever feelings he was having, knowing you’d be there for him no matter what.

You never asked Tomura to be something he wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. Your last year at university, things started to go wrong for you. You needed help, and Tomura couldn’t be who you needed him to be. It wasn’t in his programming to be there for you the way you were there for him, and he didn’t want to stick around and watch your resentment grow with every time he let you down. He’d rather leave first than watch you fall out of love with him. So he did.

He should have known you wouldn’t take the breakup lying down. I never asked you to do anything like that for me, he remembers you saying. I just want you to be here. Is that really so hard for you?

This isn’t some in sickness and in health thing, Tomura said. It’s not that serious.

He saw you flinch, and he knew he’d hurt you. Hurting you made him feel sick. It was serious to me, you said, your voice shaking, and you turned away. My mistake.

It was serious. Too serious for where Tomura was at back then, no matter how much he loved you. He felt like shit afterward, and when he ran it by his friends, they didn’t exactly help. Spinner made it pretty clear he thought Tomura was nuts. Dabi made a point of telling Tomura there’s no way he could do better than you. Twice pitched a fit because you were the only person who’d watch Star Wars with him, and you were never going to talk to any of them ever again.

The only person who sort of got it was Toga. Something about the right person, but the wrong time, and that made sense to Tomura. Maybe if the two of you were older it would have been different. Tomura usually tells himself that, when he thinks about you. It wasn’t on him. It was just bad timing. The fact that he’s never dated anybody since is bad timing, too.

He thinks about you a little more in the winter, but maybe he’s been doing it a little more than usual this winter, because he’s been thinking on and off about looking you up. Not for any real reason, just to see where you’re at. What you’re doing. If you look the way he remembers you, or if you’ve changed so much he can’t recognize you. If any of the dreams you used to talk about ended up coming true.

By the time Tomura gets to the coffee shop, his hands are basically numb, and the coffee shop is jam-packed. He has to get a lot further into the personal space of the person ahead of him in line than he wanted to, but he’s not going to freeze his ass off by standing there with the door open behind him. The person who gets in line behind him apparently didn’t get the memo about the door, and Tomura snaps at them without glancing over his shoulder. “Stay outside until there’s room.”

The door shuts, and Tomura faces front. There are so many people in here that the windows are steaming up, and the air would probably smell like sweat if it didn’t already smell so much like coffee. Tomura’s only consolation is that the baristas look just as done with the whole thing as he is. Hopefully the line will move fast.

It moves pretty fast, fast enough that Tomura’s hands haven’t warmed up by the time he reaches the head of the line. He also hasn’t been checking the menu. It feels stupid to order black coffee for ¥600 when he can make it at home for free. He scans the menu, trying pick something he won’t hate before the person in line behind him decides to murder him for taking too long, and settles on – “A hot chocolate,” the barista repeats. “Really?”

“Is there a problem or something?” Tomura snaps. “It’s on your menu.”

“No problem. What size?”

He’ll be cold on the walk home. Tomura orders the biggest one, and orders it extra-hot so his hands won’t freeze. The price is ridiculous, but Tomura can’t make decent hot chocolate at home. He only knows – or knew – one person who could do that. He reaches into his coat pocket for his wallet. Then his other coat pocket. Then both back pockets of his pants. The barista is drumming his fingers on the counter, and Tomura can hear discontented mumbling from the line behind him. This can’t be happening. He left his apartment specifically to buy coffee. There’s no way he forgot his fucking wallet.

Except that’s exactly what happened, because he can’t find it anywhere. “You can pay with your phone,” the barista says. Right. Tomura yanks his phone out of his pocket, but his hands are still frozen, and he loses his grip. The phone hits the tiles corner-first and a web of cracks spreads across the screen. “Wow –”

Tomura swears and scoops it up. He drops his phone all the time, but the screen doesn’t usually do that. “It still works. Give me a second –”

“No chance. There are other customers waiting –”

“Add a peppermint mocha to that hot chocolate. Same size.” The voice of the customer behind Tomura in line sounds weirdly familiar. “I’ve got both.”

The barista starts typing in the order, and Tomura turns to argue with the person who’s trying to pay for his drink, only for every last thought in his head to evaporate. The person behind him isn’t some stranger who’s trying to move the line ahead. It’s you.

You nudge past him to pay for the order, and you give your name for it, in case there was any doubt in Tomura’s head about who you are. There wasn’t, really. You look like you used to, almost. Your voice sounds almost exactly the same. The gestures Tomura sees as you take out your card to pay, the way you hesitate way too long over the tip screen before giving one that’s too big, are almost familiar. You look like Tomura remembers, except more like yourself. Which is –

“We should probably go this way,” you say, and Tomura snaps out of it. “Right now we’re holding up the line.”

“Yeah.” Tomura follows you to the pickup area. He’s expecting you to say something else, something about how you recognize him, but you don’t say a word. Maybe he’s the one who changed, or else you’re pretending not to recognize him to teach him a lesson. “So, uh – I don’t know if you remember –”

“Tomura? Yeah,” you say, and Tomura’s face heats up so fast that he has to look down at his phone to hide it. “I wasn’t going to say anything, in case it would be awkward. Is your phone okay?”

“It’s fine. The screen’s just fucked up.” Tomura burns a few seconds poking at it, trying to get himself under control. People run into their exes. It happens all the time, probably. People probably run into their ex-girlfriends who they still liked when they broke up with them, who were hot to start with but somehow got hotter in the ten years since the breakup, every goddamn day. “I’m fucked if it doesn’t wake up soon. I have to send the League a selfie to prove I left my house.”

Tomura’s probably said stupider things, in worse situations. He just can’t remember when they were. “You’re still close with the League?” you ask. You sound interested. “That’s really nice. I’m not close with anybody from school.”

It’s Tomura’s fault. Most of your friends were Tomura’s friends first. Somehow he doesn’t think telling you about how he and the League hang out at least once a week and usually more is the right move here. “Have you lived here the whole time?”

“No. I moved away for a while. But I always figured I’d end up back here.” You smile slightly. “Sometimes I think things happen when they’re supposed to.”

Things happen when they’re supposed to – like Tomura running into you, the same day as he got caught napping on a livestream and saying your name in his sleep. Toga’s going to lose her shit when she finds out about this. “So why’d you come back now?”

“A few reasons. Work, mainly,” you say. “Did you move away at all?”

“No. Stayed. Everything’s here.” Tomura keeps trying to revive his phone. If he looks at you, he’s going to stare. “Where’d you go?”

“You don’t have to ask me that,” you say. “I know you hate small talk.”

“If you know that, then you should know I’m only asking because I want to know,” Tomura says. “After we – uh, after. Where did you go?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” you say. “They’ll be done with our drinks way before it’s over. What are you going to do about that selfie if your phone doesn’t wake up in time?”

“Tell them I went but it broke.” Tomura’s already resigning himself to spending the next D&D session stuck under the sleeping curse, but it’s almost worth it – definitely worth it – if he got to run into you. “Look, is there somewhere you have to –”

“I can take a picture of you and text it to you,” you say. “That way you’ll have the evidence on your phone as soon as you get it working again.”

“Do you know my number?” Tomura asks without thinking. You give him a weird look. “What? Are you telling me you didn’t block me?”

“If it’s the same number you had back then, I still have it memorized,” you say. You glance down, searching through the pockets of your winter coat. The coat looks sort of familiar to Tomura. Maybe you had it when the two of you were together. “The League probably won’t buy it unless you’ve got the drink with you, right? So we should wait until it gets here.”

Tomura nods. It’s a great plan, except that he’s not going to be anywhere close to done talking to you by the time the drinks get here. He manages to coax some life into his phone, drops it in his pocket to conceal the evidence, and asks as bluntly as possible. “I just finished up a stream, so I’m free for the rest of the day. If you don’t have anywhere else to be, we should talk.”

You blink. “Why?”

“I want to hear the long story,” Tomura says. You look surprised. “I have stories, too. So we should –”

A barista shouts your name, and you turn to retrieve the drinks before Tomura can finish the sentence. He doesn’t love the interruptions, but it’s loud as hell in here, so he can forgive it. You hand Tomura his drink, then raise yours to your mouth for a sip. You’re holding it in both hands, and that’s when Tomura sees it. That’s the only reason he sees it. You’re wearing a ring on your fourth finger. On your left hand.

He can’t keep the shock out of his voice, and he’s damn lucky that he speaks before anything else has time to hit. “You’re married?”

“Engaged. The wedding’s in December.”

It’s January. “It takes that long to get married?”

“If you’re planning a big wedding, then yeah,” you say, and sigh. You shift away from the pickup counter, towards the door, and Tomura follows you, even though the impulse to jump out the coffee shop’s front window and go into witness protection is growing stronger by the second. “His family’s – traditional. If doing things in style makes them happy, it’s not that hard to put up with.”

Tomura thinks it probably is, or else you wouldn’t look that tired when you talk about your wedding. Shouldn’t you be excited talking about your wedding? Or maybe Tomura’s just reading what he wants to read on your face, instead of the truth. That for you, running into Tomura is the same as running into anybody else. That his heart’s the only one that skips a beat when he makes eye contact with you. That you’re fine, that you’re happy. That the four years you spent with Tomura didn’t matter to you at all.

“So,” you say, into what Tomura’s realizing is an awkward silence, “should I take this picture?”

“Uh, yeah.” Tomura’s planning to just stand there, staring into the middle distance and trying not to look like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, but you shift him around so he’s standing with his back to the coffee shop instead. You take one, two, maybe three pictures. “That’s enough. Thanks.”

“I’ll text you,” you say. Your phone vanishes into your coat pocket, along with the hand that’s not holding your drink. “Stay warm, okay?”

You’re leaving. Tomura’s not anywhere close to done talking to you. He doesn’t care that you’re married or engaged or whatever the fuck, he still wants to know – what happened to you, where you went, how you ended up here. He tries to think of something to keep your attention, to make you turn back around and look at him, and realizes with a sick rush of guilt that this must have been how you felt, when he was breaking up with you. Searching for something that would get a response and coming up permanently empty.

He finally finds something, when you’ve almost made it to the door. “Hey. Thanks for – uh, the drink. It was good to see you.”

The old you would have said any time. You’d have said it was good to see Tomura, too, and maybe you’d have slowed down a step, let him catch up. Instead you incline your head. “Goodbye, Tomura,” you say, and then you’re gone.

It’s freezing, but Tomura has to walk. He can’t stay here. He hits the street, then spends too long trying to figure out which direction you went, like an idiot. What is he going to do, chase after you? All his stupid thoughts about looking you up – what did he think was going to happen if he saw you again? Tomura doesn’t know, but it wasn’t this, and it should have been. Why wasn’t it? Whatever it is, he can deal with it at home. Tomura drinks half his hot chocolate, burns his tongue, and sets off into the cold.

By the time he’s slammed the door of his apartment behind him and found his wallet sitting on the kitchen counter, he’s gotten a text from you, with two pictures of himself attached. You must remember what the League is like about proof, because you framed the picture so well that Tomura’s friends won’t be able to accuse him of editing his face into an existing shot. But Tomura can’t send this picture to his friends. He can’t send it to anyone. Anybody who looks at it will see exactly how Tomura feels.

How does he feel, really? He doesn’t know, but he knows he had it backward, all this time. He left you. Ten years ago. He even ghosted you to make it easier – for him or for you, he’s not sure which. He might think of you more in the winter and have been thinking about looking you up and have felt his heart race when he saw you again and say your name in his sleep, but he’s over it. Tomura’s been over it, because he left you.

So why does he feel like you’re leaving him?

part ii ->

[cemeteryangel725]

Control, a Good Omens Of Fire and Falcons oneshot by CemeteryAngel725

I was SO SO thrilled to be paired with @bea-n-art for the @goodomensafterdark Spring Fling Kink Sling! We were assigned orgasm control and latex, so here's a smutty little peek into the married life of fire spinner Crowley and falconer Aziraphale. You can also catch Bean's amazing art on Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/beatenossart! And make sure to click through to the fic to see the full-length version of this art - it is so hot that Tumblr wouldn't let me post it!

Rated E (obviously), 2,142 words

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

They’re back!

After a dismal opening weekend at their local Renaissance Faire, Crowley asks Aziraphale for some help with letting it all go. Aziraphale gives it to him in the best way he knows how.

Excerpt (slightly edited because this fic is filthy):

Crowley shuffled forward and laid his cheek on Aziraphale’s thigh, bracketed by his husband’s knees, nestled against his warm bulk. Aziraphale reached out to stroke his hair, brushing the scarlet strands behind his ear before rubbing a broad hand under his aching jaw. Crowley’s body was clamoring for some sort of relief, but he ignored it, content to breathe in Aziraphale’s scent, one hand wrapped around his ankle.

Aziraphale only let them rest for a moment. “Up here now, my love. I want you on my lap.”

[r2d2lover]

The Truth Slips

Paring: Fred Weasley X Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Shameless smut without plot. Loss of virginity. Prevalence of a drinking game.

Summary: request: “i wanted to request a fred oneshot where reader is shy/bashful and a virgin and fred's his usually cocky self but sorta fuckboy-eee and yanoo they do the dirty… my guilty pleasure”

My guilty pleasure as well. Fuckboy Fred is my creme de la creme. uncanon fun silly Fred one shot.

Part 2

You nervously watch the bottle in the middle spin around. And around. And around. Until it jolted with a stop on you.

Your glance hesitates as it trails up to meet the bottle’s spinner, who’s green eyes light up with glee.

“This is gonna be so good,” Fred Weasley exclaimed with a wicked smile. He leaned back on his elbows, waiting for your next move. Gulping nervously, you reach towards him wondering how a post-Quidditch party turned into a scene from your nightmares.

Everyone who decided to partake in the game whoops and hollers as you finally reach in the middle of the circle and claim your shot glass of the clear liquid. George had suggested that the house play “Veritaserum Roulette” with a stolen bottle of the potion. While preparing N.E.W.T-level potions was a grueling task, the fun came in seeing who was able to snag a bottle from the professor’s watchful eye to share amongst the house. You decided not to inspect your shot glass and threw the liquid back down your throat, then set the shot glass upside down on the ground like you saw in the Muggle movies. You immediately felt your face get hot but you knew it wouldn’t be because you ingested any serum, rather it was the pressure of having all the 7th year Gryffindor staring you down with intense concentration.

“S-someone has to ask a question,” You stuttered, picking the shot glass back up to fidget with it. Initially when the game was introduced, it was simply truth or dare. You could’ve easily backed out if that. Now, you couldn’t stop anything that was to come out of your mouth if you chose the glass with Veritaserum. You hoped that the two questions chosen for you would spare you any embarrassment.

“Do you fancy anyone at this moment?” Angelina leaned forward, taking her hands off of Fred. She was laying herself across Fred all night, non-discreetly showing off the fact that she was his latest… “conquest” as you overheard one of his friends call the girls that swooned over the redhead. Fred shot to popularity after bringing the Gryffindor Quidditch to back to back championships and it only inflated his ego more so than it already was. Despite his poor reputation, you couldn’t deny that the girls dreaming about Fred were warranted in their pursuit. Fred and George didn’t become the star Beaters without a rigorous workout regiment that hardened their muscles and broadened their shoulders. Their rugged appearances paired with their reliable and goofy personalities made them unstoppable.

Fred also happened to be your first friend at Hogwarts, finding you crying after a particularly embarrassing flying class during your first year. He sat with you and assured you that it wasn’t a show of your skills but the result of faulty school broomsticks. From that day, Fred guided you on flying while you tutored him in Potions.

All this time later, you didn’t need flying lessons anymore, but Fred still needed Potions help. You would never admit it, but your favorite part of the week was sitting in the library with Fred absolutely engrossed in homework. You would steal glances as he nipped the end of his quill in deep thought or when he would push his falling hair out of his face. Fred’s worst trait was his lack of spatial awareness and he’d always lean in too close while you explained the more difficult concepts to him. He was always chewing a sharp minty gum and smelled of a piney cologne that reminded you of Christmas. It distracted you often and made you turn beet red when he noticed the change in your diction. This would only make Fred lean in closer, inquiring about your odd behavior. All this time, you fought off any feelings you could have developed because you were realistic. You weren’t the Quidditch player, social butterfly types that Fred dated. Angelina was a prime example. Speaking of her, your desperate attempt to avoid answering her question was null and void when you felt as if you were being puppeted to speak.

“I do,” You squeaked out. Your hands flung to your mouth, but the attempt was feeble. Everyone quickly muttered amongst themselves to figure out the next question to ask you. At this moment, you felt like a criminal on trial. The easy next question was “who?” but the chatter alluded to a deeper question. It surely appalled everyone that you had a crush. You largely avoided the dating scene despite the relentless attempts from Oliver Wood. You thought Oliver was sweet and went on a singular date with him last year, but he was only focused on Quidditch. Much like Fred.

“Who is it? Is it Oliver? If it isn’t, who?” A younger Gryffindor blurred out in excitement and you felt the same puppet feeling in your gut and as you began to answer, Fred reached over and clamped his hand on your mouth. Your face was burning so hot at this moment you were sure you were sweating.

“Hey! We can only ask one more questions. We gotta make them good. Don’t answer those,” Fred instructed, removing his hand from your face. He brushed a piece of hair that fell out of place back behind your ear, making your stomach flip. This was such a ridiculous feeling. “Did you ever bed Oliver?”

“No? N..no!” You raised your eyebrows at Fred, appalled he would ask such a question. Once you opened your mouth, more words flowed out like a broken faucet. “I’ve never bedded anyone. Oliver was always on the Quidditch Pitch and it isn’t exactly the sexiest place in the castle.”

Your statement made the room laugh, which only increased your self consciousness. You shrugged and admitted you weren’t embarrassed at the fact for never having done anything with Oliver or any man. You were already covering your face with both hands, definitely sweating at this point. The group decided to refill on butterbeer, leaving you to seal your mouth shut with a cup of water. Fred stayed next to you, his green eyes filling with a mischievous glint.

“Has the Veritaserum worn off?” Fred asked, tilting his head up to look at you. He kept unwavering eye contact that made your mind go blank.

“Not yet,” You answered, still under the influence of the potion. Hopefully Fred wouldn’t press any further or that it would wear off before then.

“Ah… So, while I have you here, you really never slept with Oliver?” Fred leaned in closer, a smirk forming across your face. You shook your head and reaffirmed what he already knew. “Why not? And don’t give me the Quidditch answer.”

“I was waiting for the right person,” You said lamely, unable to fight the potion’s effect. Fred lifted an eyebrow.

“You’ve never fantasized?” Fred blocked you from grabbing a cup of water that would render you voiceless.

“Not about Oliver. Wh-why are you asking?” You fought your thoughts hard to answer Fred’s question as vaguely as possible.

“Hey, I thought I was asking the questions here. I just wanted to know what makes the timid girl that tutors me in Potions tick,” Fred moved so close to you that you could clearly smell his cologne. Luckily, his statement wasn’t laced with a question and the potion took no effect, allowing you to shake your head shyly.

“So you said not Oliver, so who do you think about?” Fred figured out how to narrow his question and before you could stop, your mouth betrayed you.

“Us,” You said, feeling like you broke the dam. Fred’s eyes grew wide, but his body language didn’t change. You were waiting for him to recoil out of instinct or turn red. But he continued to look at you coolly, turning a cup of butterbeer in his hands. Your heart jumped to your stomach and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your flight instinct kicked in, but before you could flee from the conversation, Fred grabbed your arm and forced you back down.

“What do you think about us?” Fred’s eyes darkened with an excitement you’ve never seen before. Arousal. You could only take a big gulp before your dirty fantasies about the boy you tutored that you kept locked away spilled out of your mouth for the world to hear.

“I think about you sliding a hand up my skirt in the library. Telling me to be quiet. I want to kiss you until I can’t feel my lips. I want to see you without a shirt on. I think about you pulling my hair back to look at you while you f-“ Your mortification overtook your entire body and you collapsed before you could finish your sentence with a yelp. Fred took a hold of you before you could hit the wall, making sure to take a long look at you. His face still had the cocky smile that you’d grown to love. His strong arm that was wrapped supportively around your waist and got tighter as he tried to figure out his next question. Your squirming didn’t help and you had no choice but to be stuck in his investigation.

“Are you thinking about it right now?” Fred’s eyes flitted from your eyes to your lips and if your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest, you would’ve had half the mind to kiss him.

“Yes,” You practically slurred, unable to calm down from the situation unfolding before you. Fred ran a comforting hand up and down your back, soothing your nerves only slightly.

“Do you want to go up to my room to show me some of these fantasies?” Fred said blatantly. Of course you did and of course you let him know.

“Yes but,” You took a large inhale trying to ease your racing heart. “But what about Angelina?”

“I don’t want her. I want you,” Fred said definitively, sending a chill down your back. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to pressure you into anything just because you don’t have control of your thoughts right now.”

“I want you, Fred,” You said with a confidence that surprised even you. The words were genuine, the feeling of being puppeted by your mouth was gone. As you focused on Fred’s words and realized what he was proposing, you felt a simmering heat between your thighs and that you had been rubbing your thighs together to cause a reliving friction between them. But the clarity brought another realization. “You… you don’t even like me. I’m. I’m not going to be one of your conquests or whatever.”

“Gods, really are clueless are you?” Fred laughed at your out-of-character quip. He used his free hand to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “Did you really think I was spending all this time in the library thinking about Potions? Why the hell would I take N.E.W.T-level Potions if I was bad at it? I just had to pretend enough for you to keep studying with me.”

Fred’s confession stunned you silent. Without second thought, you wrapped your arms around Fred’s neck and leaned forward to meet his lips with yours. He gave an amused noise, kissing you back gladly. The kiss was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You were fulfilling a need you didn’t know you had, pressing deeper and deeper into the redhead’s mouth. Fred skillfully nipped at your bottom lip, slipping his tongue into your mouth when you moaned at the unfamiliar feeling. You were a little intimidated by his knowledge and your lack thereof, but the hand he was rubbing on your waist made you forget about anything besides him. He started to move a hand towards your chest and smirked wildly when you whimpered because he pulled away.

“My room. Now,” Fred said breathlessly, practically dragging you up the stairs. He hastily cast a locking and silencing charm before pushing you on the bed. Fred hovered over you, obviously delighted by your misshapen appearance. He had you pinned to the bed with one leg between your thigh and his arms at either side of your head.

The burning in your stomach only grew and Fred continued to kiss you, tasting every bit of you. He snaked a hand up your shirt, palming you through the fabric of your bra. When you least suspected it, he pulled the fabric down, pinching your firmed nipple in between his forefinger and thumb. The sensation made you moan loudly into his kisses and buck your hips up on his thigh.

“That’s a good girl,” Fred purred, continuing to flex his fingers around your breast. “Stop me if you want at any moment.”

“Take off your clothes,” Your voice was so whiny with need that you hardly recognized it. Fred only chuckled and moved his hand away from your chest to start removing your clothes instead of his. You batted his hand away and ran your fingers down his broad chest. You slowly undid his buttons, shaking from nervousness and exhilaration. Every button revealed more of his tanned muscular body that made your mouth watered. Fred continued supporting himself over you, enjoying your desperation.

When you finally managed to shed his shirt, you could barely focus. Your eyes trailed down his chest to the trail of hair on his stomach that pointed directly to the tension in his pants.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” You admitted to Fred, tangling your hands in his hair nervously.

“It’s okay. I think it’s time for me to teach you something to thank you for the last few years,” Fred said cockily, amazing you at how he stayed the same while you were falling apart under his touch. He quickly removed your clothes, tossing them somewhere in the middle of the room.

You felt vulnerable laying there in only your underwear, but Fred dragged his Quidditch-calloused hands down your body as he planted reassuring kisses on your mouth. His mouth followed his hand down until his lips were biting at the sensitive skin of your neck and his hand was rubbing circles on the soft skin of your inner thigh. You moved your hips down to meet his hand pleadingly and he took pity on you.

Fred moved his hands up to feel your arousal, circling his finger just around the bundle of nerves that begged to be touched. He knew exactly what he was doing and held your hips down with his free hand when you let out a whining groan. After teasing you, Fred slipped your underwear to the side, dragging his middle finger up your slick.

“Just how long have you been fantasizing about me?” Fred joked, breathing in as you moaned. He was barely making any movements and he had you reacting like this. Fred dragged his finger back and forth a few times before slowly pressing his middle finger into you, making sure to look up at you in order to spot any discomfort. You squirmed a little at the feeling, but once Fred started curling his finger, your body relaxed around the pleasure.

“More,” Your head sunk into Fred’s bed as your body grew accustomed to the feeling. Fred audibly smirked as he slipped his ring finger in as well, kissing you deeply. You realized his pants were still on and his fingers were speeding up from impatience. You reached down tenderly, running your fingers gently over the tent in his pants. He let out an airy breath before breaking the kiss to look at you.

“Feel it,” Fred encouraged you. His working fingers paused as he directed your hand with his free hand to his pants. Fred placed his hands on top of yours, simulating a squeeze. You copied his movement, earning a low groan from him. “Fuck… I need you right now.”

You shed your undergarments as Fred fumbled with his belt, too overtaken with lust to focus on unclipping the buckle. He finally released the leather binding and dropped his pants quickly, letting his cock fall as well. You watched with big eyes and Fred took your hand again to wrap it around his base.

“Just like that,” Fred praised as you moved your hand up and down. The friction was uncomfortable for you, so you pulled your hand back to lick a stripe up your palm and return it to his cock. The action made Fred roll his eyes back into his head and let his head drop as you continued to pump your hand up and down. “You’re so good, baby.”

Fred’s praise only made you want him more and the wanting in between your thighs got to be unbearable. As Fred was closing his eyes in bliss, you sneakily reached a hand down towards your folds to mimic his earlier actions in an attempt to ease the pressure. Fred felt you moving and quickly opened his eyes, catching you in the act. He tsked and removed your hand, pinning it by your head.

“Impatient are we, love?” Fred chuckled, sending vibrations through your stomach.

“Please,” You begged. “I want to feel you.”

Fred was impatient as you were and shifted his weight back to line himself up with your entrance. You were filled with such an excitement and nervousness that you subdued by reaching up for a kiss. Fred dragged the head of his cock against your slick folds, almost as if he was waiting for permissions.

“Fred. Fuck me,” You drawled, dizzy from anticipation. Fred let out a string of curses, then entered with a slow thrust. You let out a cry at the satisfying pain of feeling your walls stretch around Fred. He checked in again with you to make sure you were comfortable and you gave him a kiss on the cheek for assurance.

“You feel so amazing,” You slurred, eyes shutting from the pleasure. Fred slowly rolled his hips against yours, intertwining his hands with yours. He still had your hand pinned against your head and he was starting to lean forward, delivering soft grunts to your ear.

“You’re so… tight,” Fred mused aloud. You bucked your hips up to meet the friction the penetration was creating and Fred took that as a sign to go faster. He picked up his rhythm that made you sing a chorus of moans that melted into his name. Fred let curses fall out of his mouth and he picked up the speed of his thrusts, fully fucking you into the bed. Your cries only encouraged him.

Fred planted his lips on yours, creating a messy and heavy kiss that dripped with want. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging whenever he would move to a certain spot that made your vision blur. A knotted feeling built up in your stomach like you never felt before.

“Fred… I- I’m-'' Fred understood what you were trying to get at and dropped a hand to your clit, rubbing soft circles that only tightened your stomach. With a cry, you broke from his interlocked hand and wrapped your arms around him as you nipped at his shoulder from the immense wave that washed over you. Fred laughed with such confidence it brought you back to life as he slowed down his thrusts.

“I’m almost there. Do you want me to keep going?” Fred panted, brushing a hair out of your face and kissing you on the forehead.

“Yes, please,” You relaxed back, feeling absolutely crazed. Fred dropped his head again and you reached up to trail kisses down his neck. “You fuck me so well, Fred.”

Your praise sent Fred over the edge and he unsheathed himself with a groan, spilling himself on your stomach. Fred collapsed beside you with a heave, then moved quickly to help clean you off. He climbed back into bed with you, pulling you close with a kiss.

“Telling the truth pays off, huh?”

“That, or Potions class.”

[imagineanime2022]

League Of Villains With An S/O Like Marceline The Vampire Queen

Tomura Shigaraki X Reader, Dabi X Reader, Spinner X Reader

Requested: @supernatural-hunter1

Request: I’m thinking the LOV (Dabi, Spinner and Shigaraki) with a girlfriend, who has a vampire quirk like Marceline, the vampire queen (from Adventure Time) she has a bass guitar in a shape of an axe, she’s a great singer, she can fly, and she only drinks the color red (or eat the color)

Tomura Shigaraki

🤚 You were introduced to Shigaraki when you were young and as you started to develop your quirk became his protector. 🤚 He’d often find that his hand rested on your neck, two fingers over the bite marks in your neck. He matched skin tones with someone… Even if they were a vampire. 🤚 Indifferent to the guitar really, he often thinks that it gets in the way on more stealthy missions but he liked that you were able to fight without it, and found more joy in watching you punch someone across the room. 🤚 Sometimes people didn’t see you until it was too late, you might be the last thing they see after disrespecting Shigaraki or injuring him in some way.

No one could see you, you had been sitting on the bar behind Shigaraki, your legs dangling down behind him as he leant against your shins looking at the new recruits, Dabi and Toga. You were watching them carefully, your guitar rested behind the bar close enough to grab if you needed it, they talked but you noticed the movement of Dabi before Shigaraki did, you grabbed the guitar from behind the bar swinging it around stopping just short of Dabi’s neck “be careful now.” You warned, you held the forearm of your free arm resting on top of Shigaraki’s head and you rested your chin on your own arm. “Are you sure that you need him?” “We need them all unfortunately.” Shigaraki answered “Plus as annoying as he is, I believe he’s going to be useful.” “He does seem like the most capable of a lot.” You shrugged. “Mmm.” He hummed “you can drop the axe.” You sat up as you pulled back the axe, it rested on your shoulder as you slumped forward. “What?” Shigaraki mumbled as he looked at you posture. “I don’t trust him.” You answered as Dabi smirked at you, eyes easily moving over you seemingly assessing you. “So who’s the bodyguard?” Dabi asked. “None of your business.” Shigaraki answered as he turned his back to them, the conversation over as he rested the handheld console that he was playing on your thighs, as you played with his hair and Kurogiri showed the new arrivals to the rooms they could use if they wanted.

Dabi

🔥 Dabi met you before he ended up in the league, he actually went looking for you after hearing about you through the thugs that he was beating to a pulp. 🔥 Dabi then watched you like an absolute creeper for a couple of weeks, gathering information and trying to figure out just what your quirk was. 🔥 He definitely liked your style, the way you dressed, carried yourself and spoke to other people. 🔥 He approached you when he got all the information that he could from watching you.

You were sitting on the roof of the building watching people go by, there were a number of different objects next to you that had been drained of their colour, Dabi didn’t think that it was sunny enough to warrant the hat that you had decided to wear “thought vampires couldn’t sit in the sun.” He finally said, you glanced back at him, eyes moving over him for a second before going back to the people milling around under you. “Vampires can sit in the sun as long as we’re protected from direct sunlight.” You answered. “You’ve been watching me, what do you want?” “You knew?” He asked. “Thought you were sneaky?” You asked. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me.” “Yeah?” He asked, he stepped forward and you leaned back resting on your hands. “I wouldn’t get too close, you know that guitar isn’t just a fashion statement.” You warned him. “I know.” He nodded “I’ve seen you use it, impressive.” He continued forward until he was sitting on the ledge next to you. “What do you want?” You asked. “You seem bored.” He mumbled. “I’m bored of you dodging the question, what do you want?” You asked. “I want to offer you a prospect.” He answered. “Uh huh.” You grunted. “I want to take down someone and you could help me.” He answered. “Who?” You asked. “What?” He asked. “Who do you want to take down?” You asked. “Endeavour.” He answered. “Now that is a challenge.” You smirked, your fangs flashing in the sun. “You’d better tell me how you plan to do this and I’ll decide whether I join you.”

Spinner

🦎 Spinner was very good at withholding judgement until he'd met someone or seen someone in action which is why he never judged you for your supposed vampire attributes. 🦎 He honestly thinks the guitar is pretty cool, an instrument that doubles as weapons, and always loves when people question whether it’s a real weapon or not. 🦎 On that note Spinner never gets tired of you singing, whether you're just singing to yourself or singing for the rest of the gang (Magni and Toga are often the ones that make requests). 🦎 Your ability to go from a warm presence to a threatening entity, was honestly amazing to him.

Spinner had lost track of you a while back, you had been split up during the ambush by Redestros men, he had seen evidence of you being around considering there were objects that were primary red that had lost their colour, if you were drinking during battle you were having you use your abilities in excessive amounts. Spinner should have been paying more attention when the hulking weight smashed into his side, he recognised the grunts, it was you in your larger bat form. “You need a hand?” He asked. “I mean if you're not too busy.” You shrugged as he looked behind you at the group that had followed the larger man, he noted that you were changing back to your humanoid form and bass guitar thrown over your shoulder. “Are you hungry, do you need anything?” He asked. “No there was enough around here to get what I needed now, I just really want these guys to go away.” You answered, swinging the axe end of the base cutting the closest man’s head clean off. “Wow.” He mumbled eyes widening and cheeks heating, if his skin wasn’t green you would have seen a blush. “You okay?” You asked a smirk taking over your face as you dodged a hit from one of others, Spinner napped out of it throwing a dagger landing it straight in his heart. “I’m fine.” He mumbled as you giggled, killing yet another one of them before moving over to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Come on let’s finish this, find the boss and get this over with so we can get back to doing nothing.” You ordered. “Sure thing.” He chuckled, cutting down another attacker.

Request Here!!

[aurantiumred]

saw @manygeese do this! does this count as a chain or something should i have reblogged them? anyway, i need to decide what to work on.

im so sleepy. heres estimated lengths in more detail:

SoN jercy re-write: same length as it's book! maybe a few more chapters, maybe a few chapters cut. one work.

valgrace strawberry picking oneshot: this is probably gonna be just a silly little thing. 5k words maybe?

dc crossover w/ jason grace, which i have dubbed "Saving Grace" (with an outrageous amount of double meaning in that title btw) for now: have been plotting with @moth-monarch (tagged the wrong person the first time lol, sorry!) and @whosthatredguy for a while (you guys are great). multiple works. long. probably wont finish, because im chasing dopamine and the only reason im doing it is because this dc hyperfixation has hit me harder than the brick that hit jason grace and the crowbar that hit jason todd combined. will require lots of research into comics n shit. i cannot think if im not thinking about my adventures with superman. someone help.

cryptid fic: dude i came up with this on the spot. i want to give the demigods noticably inhuman traits (gills for percy, wings for hermes kids, give jason grace the curly white cloud hair he deserves) i have no IDEA how long it could be. could be 10k, could be 45k, could be more, could be anywhere in-between. im a mess.

superbat wingfic: *slaps cardboard wings on batman* tada!!! anyway this has mostly come about because the way superman flies atm is BORING!!! give that man big bulletproof wings he can protect people with please!! that'd actually be so cool. uh... hmm... ??? no idea on length. look at my estimated length for the cryptid fic. also playing on the idea that belief makes gods and cryptids, not some sort of divine right. (thinking about this harder. so hard. autism husbands...)

and then it'll probably take me like a month to annotate the lost hero. depends. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ if this ties im gonna say fuck it and grab a wheel spinner app lmao. by the way, if you see one of these ideas and happen to want to write it, feel absolutely free. take it and run!!!

[biggestxsimps]

So Close, Yet So Far

A/N: This is a male villain Y/N x Hero Izuku Midoriya oneshot. There's a bit of flirting occasionally and mentions of killing and deaths.

"So close. But so far." Y/N's voice rang throughout the field.

Somehow, Izuku had found himself in this situation with his ex boyfriend. It was something he never thought would occur. Y/N, out of all people. Becoming a villain and taking the leagues side? Who would have thought.

"Why? Why would you do this?" he asked, his fist clenched tightly as he watched the other taunt him from afar.

Y/N had bumped into Izuku on the way to another mission, but for now, the mission could wait. He wanted to tease him and taunt him a little bit, see how much progress the hero's made since they last met. "Do what? I haven't done anything. It's fun tagging along. Causing trouble, stirring up Spinner and Muscular for no reason at all. The rush of adrenaline that I feel everytime we're on the run. It's truly amazing..." he announced.

Izuku continued looking at Y/N, keeping his eyes on him at all times, making sure he didn't do anything behind his back. It was a fight or flight instinct, He didn't know whether to stay or to leave. Something inside of him wanted to go, but his gut was telling him to stay. He knew Y/N definitely wasn't as sane as what he used to be. Just by looking at him, and their previous conversation just before he had left. "What? You left cause this is more fun? Can you even hear yourself! Don't you understand you're either going to get killed or be sent to jail for the rest of your life? This isn't a joke Y/N. You've still got time to turn yourself around."

Y/N rose a brow, chuckling softly as he crossed his arms, hovering slightly over the ground. "This lifestyle is just more...thrilling. The thrill of being on the verge of death sends such chills down my spine.." he sighed softly, tilting his head back. "I love you Izuku, I really do. But no villain or hero could ever be seen with each other. But again...the risk is something I'm willing to take.." he smirked, shaking his head a bit as he deactivated his quirk, lowering onto the ground.

Izuku sucked in a breath, noticing one of Kurogiri's portals spawning. Y/N looked behind himself, sighing softly and looking at Izuku. "Looks like this is my signal to be heading off now! It was lovely seeing you again Izuku, please..We should go out sometime again." he spoke in a flirtatious tone, smiling slightly as he blew a kiss before he walked into the portal, the mist shutting behind him.

Izuku watched as Y/N left, his cheeks heating up slightly as he clenched his fist slightly tightly, grumbling softly to himself as he walked away, Y/N on his mind.

- Written by Owner 2

[lucien0501]

LETTERS (Wolfstar Oneshot)

Summary: Letters from Sirius Black to Remus Lupin from Azkaban. He isn’t allowed to send the letters so they’re only one sided, which definitely makes it sad. There are a few mentions of fun past Marauders moments/pranks!:) Harry Potter Marauders Fandom

Note: I do not support the views of the author (I am a trans person so....no🤬) but I love these very gay characters so much that I had to write about them!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Hints of mental instability, losing memories because of dementors, definite angst, mentions of Lily and James’ death, brief mentions of sex, swearing, Sirius’ hate for Peter Pettigrew, death threats towards Peter Pettigrew, and overall kind tragic because Sirius is stuck in Azkaban.  Let me know if I missed any!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Moons

I'm not sure why I'm writing to you--we're not allowed to send or receive post from Azkaban, but you know that already. You always seem to know everything, you're smart as hell.

I'm not going to waste parchment explaining everything, I already spend too much time rehearsing what I'm going to say. Lily and James, Remus. I still can't make myself believe it, I'm not sure I want to.

I want to ask you not to forget about me, not to believe I'm a traitor. No, that's a lie. I want to ask you to wait for me. I'll come back to you one day, I promise. It’s selfish of me, to hope you won't move on. But I've always been a selfish bastard, you know that too.

I can't remember your eyes, Remus. Or your laugh. I try, every day to conjure you up from my memories, but the Dementors are slowly sucking you from my mind, one day at a time. I'm terrified of losing you--our years at Hogwarts, for good. I'm scared that one day I won't remember what you taste like, your oversized jumpers, the sounds you make when you come. I love you, Remus, and the Dementors prey on love, it's a feast to them.

But they can't take away my hate, my need for revenge. I fucking hate him, I hate him I hate himIhatehimIhate--

Pads

*

Moony

Do you remember the time we shagged on the big couch in the common room and James found out? He was so disgusted he didn't sit there till Christmas.

Do you remember the time that we all got drunk and played Seven Minutes In Heaven and I charmed the spinner so I'd get you? That was our first kiss. I remember.

Then there was that time that we slipped Snivellus a potion that turned his hair pink for a week. We thought it was the most brilliant thing we'd ever done. Did he retaliate? I'm not sure anymore.

Remember when we snuck out to Hogsmeade through the secret passage and almost ran into Professor McGonagall? Did we get caught? I don't remember.

I'm trying to remember. I have to remember

Padfoot

*

Rem

Half my bloody family is in here, you know. It makes for a wonderful reunion, lots of cursing and threats of murder-- just like old times! 

I wonder if my parents are proud of me now, after what they think I did. After what everyone thinks I did.

I'm sorry. I'm so damned sorry for all of it, for the way I must have hurt you. I wish I could actually send these letters and wish I could talk to you again. Just for a few minutes.

There are so many things I should have done differently. So many things.

Sirius

*

Remus

I wonder where you are, now? What you're doing? 

It's been five years now, for all I know you could be dead or married or finally realized you're better off without me. I wouldn't blame you for the last one. 

That thought haunts me every day, that I'll get out of here and I'll find you and you'll say that you've moved on and none of it matters now.

Cause I will find you. I'm getting out of here, one day.

Sirius

*

This will be my last letter, I'm almost out of parchment and there's no way in hell they'll bring me more. Maybe I'll write on the walls to keep myself from going mad. 

I'm so sorry for everything that I did. For everything that I failed to do. I never told you enough how much I loved you and now it's too late.

I'm going to get out of here, I promise. I have to. 

I'm going to kill him, fucking rip him apart with my bare hands, damn my wand. 

And then I'm going to find you. And everything is going to be alright because then I'll be in your arms. 

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: Don’t know how this college will show up on tumblr, so let’s see. This is an old, old idea that I got one day after I drew all over my arm in eyeliner when I was in class. It was actually really pretty, and thus the idea for this was born. Due to my ADHD it’s hard to focus in class, and because of that I need some sort of stimulation to make my brain think. This was written with an attention disorder in mind for the reader.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F! Reader

Location: Marvel > Natasha Romanoff > Oneshots

Warnings: None, just a small drabble with fluff

Words: 900ish

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~

“We need to move in from this direction instead and then we can carry them out.” Bucky voiced from his place against the wall. 

I didn’t bother to follow the conversation, as this was the fourth time that they’ve been over editing the plan even when the first plan was perfect. 

I inwardly groaned and leaned my head back, moving my arms and stretching. Enjoying the feel of my back popping. The debate about how we were to get in was still going, and I ended up digging through my jacket pockets. Damn, I had a fidget in here this morning…

Still tuning everyone out, I found an eyeliner pen. Wait, wasn’t I looking for that yesterday?

You have got to be kidding me. I was. My habit, or rather, unconscious habit of losing things wasn’t fun. I misplaced things often enough to where I kept trackers on several items I used daily. Everyone idolizes having an attention disorder until you realize just how fucking shitty it is.

Seriously, I can’t get through the day without misplacing something. Or caffeine. Both. 

I ran a hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ears as I pulled the cap off the pen. It was one of the oil-based ones, which meant it was easy to clean off of skin. Laying my hand on the table I started sketching some bones on my fingers, then moved to my hand. Keeping tabs on the conversation, I finished my hand and moved to my arm. Instead of bones I just drew swirls, some small stars, and honestly whatever came to mind. I did the same with my other hand, albeit a bit messier because it wasn’t my dominant hand that was doing the drawing.

“We’re done with this for now. Let’s go over this tomorrow.” Steve said as he clapped his hands together, and shut off the screen. I glanced up only to meet Natasha’s eyes. As soon as she caught my gaze she smiled. I smiled back at her.

Everyone in the tower knew I had an attention disorder, and if just given my fidgets I would be fine. It turns out both of the scientists and I share that in common, and more often than not we were inventing some sort of new fidget toy. Of course, after the lighter-knife-spinner combination, we were a bit limited on our creations. Still, we got along great.

Everyone slowly got up and headed out to wherever they would be going, and I pulled out my phone and earbuds. Donning my jacket and tugging my phone in a pocket, I started my music and headed out, headless of Natasha calling after me.

I got to my floor and immediately shoved my shoes and socks off, along with my jacket and pants. I was bored enough that the thought of doodling over my legs sounded entertaining enough that I discarded my pants as well, kicking them over the back of the couch and flopping down onto it. I grabbed the remote and started from where I left off of (Favorite show) and went back to work. Eventually my feet were covered, and I moved up to my calves, then my knees, and soon enough my entire legs were covered. I drew up my arms as best I could, and fixed my hands. 

“So, this was the result?” Natasha’s voice scared the shit out of me, causing a huge streak of eyeliner to mess up my doodles on my arms. I turned towards her, mouth open in shock. She huffed a laugh and went around the couch, sitting down next to me.

She held out her hand. “May I?” She asked. I handed her the pencil and she gently took my arm, and continued my drawing up my arm and onto my shoulder, before lightly drawing them on my neck, and eventually my cheek. 

“These are really pretty...have you considered getting these tattooed?” She asked me as she switched sides and started working on my other arm. 

“I have, but I also realized that I’d want them different as soon as I saw them.” I replied. 

“That makes sense. You typically don’t like things to be permanent, they always need to be changing.” 

“Yeah, some permanent things. Such as tattoos, furniture, clothes. I change those often. But people however...they’re always changing.” 

“Ah, so in relationships you wouldn’t be deterred if someone wanted something permanent with you?” She questioned, tracing the pencil up my neck and onto my cheek, leaning closer to me. 

“No, I wouldn’t. I prefer that type of stability in my life.” I whispered as she leaned closer to me. 

“Do you want something permanent?” 

“I do.” I leaned closer and closed the gap between us.