#this idiot has one brain cell

[purpleblch]

what do you mean you don't want to dress up in Rhysquez cosplay and have dirty sex!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[light-wrath-paradise]

Animorphs Book club book 8

My reaction can be summarised as this (yet again):

I don't have many thoughts because uh. That was depressing as hell and I need to stare at a wall.

But I DO gotta say that the subplot with the dead "wife" was so telenovela-esque that for a good minute it was more funny than depressing. Then it got depressing. But it was so jarring and so far out of the left field that for a good second my friend and I had to pause the audiobook and laugh because ????????? Unhinged to just appear, go "I am Eslin, I have a G U N. My secret wife was killed. By my boss. Now I yearn for sweet sweet revenge." and not elaborate. Like. Damn dude ok. Sorry about our wife also. Fucking killed me that he continued like "So anyway I reacted adequately by killing all of my boss' friends. Starvation style." Like ???? Jjhsgdjsdfghsjdfh what????? I mean damn I do respect the grind set but also that's such an absurd escalation out of context. Did your boss kill your wife? Kill all of his friends! And in context the most absurd part is probably the notion that Visser 3 has friends??????? Like??? Wait no Eslin. Eslin wait. I love your John Wick-esque "fridged wife" trope swag but you need to slow down. I need details. I need you to tell me HOW your boss even has friends.

In my heart I do not believe we will see that madman ever again but on god I do wish for an insane telenovela-esque sequence of him just showing up at the most random moment to do exactly one thing and that's to pull a gun on Visser 3. For no reason, I just think it would be kinda funny. Like,,,did your boss kill your wife?:

Kill all of his friends

Acquire a G U N

Attempt to make the local Andalite youth assassinate your boss for you

Pull the gun on your boss

???????

Profit (probably die)

Aside from that, I also need to say that the moment when Ax called Tobias his close friend at the end was so sweet. Also ngl kinda...concerning/harrowing how much Tobias really doesn't give a shit about not being a human. Like it doesn't seem so concerning from other points of view but the way Ax gets increasingly weirded out by Tobias not asking him about the nothlit (idk if I'm spelling that right rn) really reminds you that it IS kinda worrying. Like I get it, I mean...Tobias has no family that cares about him, he has no friends outside of the Animorphs friend group, why would he care? But it's still kinda...yeah.

Also unimaginably surprised by the amount of collective guilt present in the Andalite society. You'd think they're Catholic or something the way they keep beating themselves up and force everyone to also beat themselves up and their system itself is saturated with the guilt and shame and they teach it to kids at school from an early age. Like. Jesus Christ calm down. Stop that. As the Animorphs said at the end of the book - the Andalites made an oopsie once. It sucked, yes, it continues to have consequences that suck, yes, but it happens. Sometimes you think you're doing something kind and it turns into a disaster. That does not mean you should beat yourself up for it or, god forbid, tell other people that they should not be kind lest they make a mistake. Damn I guess we should all be cold assholes forever, huh? I'm sure that can't have any negative consequences.

Andalite society in general seems kinda unhinged. Like...do I get why it is like that? Yeah. But do I find it unhinged? Also yeah. Like ok duty and the collective being the most important things is totally sensible for a prey animal. Safety of the herd and all that. But it's still kinda unhinged that they do make everyone have duty as their number 1 priority and that they have rituals devoted to it. Not all rituals are spiritual or religious in nature, but the morning ritual is kinda...borderline religious in a way. More spiritual than religious, I suppose, but yeah.

Also I love Ax so much. 10/10 character. He has it all: an incredibly hilarious desire for cinnamon buns, the inability to act like a human being (same dude), spitting random facts at completely random times, a thirst for blood only a 13(?) years old could have, a dysfunctional obsession with duty and doing what is right that only a 13(?) years old could have (also lol yeah dude I was like that when I was 13 too. dw you'll grow out of it), he can even code. And he might even be bi (I'm joking but I' referring to the fact that he was like "Yeah so when I morph into a human form I suddenly agree that Rachel is beautiful and that Marco is cute.").

[cakesunflower]

coming onto tumblr after ages and i’m loving all of the elriel posts i’m seeing but like?? stop showing me gwynriel posts?? no thank you?? i don’t live in delusion?? elriel or nothing baby

[cienie-isengardu]

Khaos Reigns (2)

So far, my two biggest complaints about new Mortal Kombat storytelling is the lack of Tomas in Lin Kuei-focused  Khaos Reigns and lack of sensible logic behind characters’ choices. This is not really about how characters behave toward each other as this is rooted in the previous game, but how weak is the reasoning that pushes the story forward. Which sadly is how the whole attack on Kuai Liang’s wedding feels to me. We have Bi-Han’s lie 

Cyrax: I still cannot believe that Liu Kang capitulated to Outworld. That he agreed to break up our clan.

that has no backing up. A certain time has passed between MK1 and current story mode, right? So if Liu Kang capitulated to Outworld, then logically Outworld forces should showed up in Earthrealm or the Fire Lord would knock on their door to say sorry guys, no more Lin Kuei; something Lin Kuei would be first to know. Even more, since apparently Lin Kuei were asked to protect Earthrealm in dire need in the previous game, something they refused to do (as we were told by Tomas). Liu Kang capitulating to Outworld would be a political change hard to miss. So it is no wonder why Cyrax is not buying it, as this lie makes little sense.

(Personally I think it would be better if Lin Kuei were not “deceived” but simply wanted their independence and supported Bi-Han for this goal alone, while Sub-Zero letting his father die still works fine as the shocking revelation to cast a doubt in Cyrax’s mind.)

Then we have Sektor and Bi-Han acknowledging Cyrax suspecting their deception

but apparently this is not a concerning enough to, you know, not including her in the attack or not giving her the top-technologically advanced armor, if you can't be sure of her loyalty.

Bi-Han said they will be ready when Cyrax learns the truth but as the story goes, there are no backup plans for that scenario. Sub-Zero does not deny he lied or killed his father and I really wonder what he or Sektor expected to happen? Yeah, so much for being ready to deal with the problem they were aware of from the start.

Same with the stealth attack on the wedding. Lin Kuei warriors successfully got unnoticed inside Wu Shi place,

where the wedding was happening. And instead of some of those ninjas quietly opening one of the gates, Sektor was using her guns to destroy the main gate, losing the element of surprise.

A tactical surprise that she and Bi-Han wanted to use it to their advantage.

Not to mention Lin Kuei warriors had no problem with getting past the not-even-so-high walls so it is not like the main gate was so necessary for their army to get inside. Or if they have such great firepower, they should thrown some grenades over the walls or set bombs before frontal attacking. Just saying.

Okay, that could be just Lin Kuei arrogance or testing the armors in battle (something they could anytime anywhere), but one would think a clan that for ages was doing commando-like work for Liu Kang would get the stealth attack correctly. Especially since one of the first things Sektor told us on screen was that Lin Kuei were not trained for Tournaments but for war.

Cyrax is overall a fine character, but for me she lacks an edge the MK9’s male Cyrax had and thus feel, well, meek. The story shows her as a person with a strong moral sense, however Bi-Han literally said to her the mission is to attack Kuai Liang and his clan. Harumi chose to fight back so why is Cyrax so surprised that Lin Kuei warriors were ready to kill her? It’s not part of their missions, she said when attacking her own people to save Scorpion’s fiance/wife-to-be, but for me this shows how much Cyrax is just naive and detached from reality. The previous game showed us that Lin Kuei brothers are ruthless fighters (Bi-Han was ready to decapitate defeated Shang Tsung, Kuai Liang effectively killed his opponents with no hesitate), so Cyrax jumping to rescue a woman that killed her own comrades kinda made me wonder, why she is even that important to Sektor or Bi-Han to be involved with them so close? Like, there is little I can see that could interest Bi-Han or Sektor in her, as she is presented from the start as disrespectful toward her superior and mentor (Sektor) and way more idealistic than any of them is. Literally the first argument she has with Sektor and her criticism about ambush & sneak attack tactics feels a bit off, considering this is what Lin Kuei were doing even as the good guys, presumably for centuries and with full approval of Liu Kang (as was seen in previous game).

Sure, we could say Cyrax is new! She knows no better… but then storyline openly claims she and Kuai Liang knew each other before he left the clan and even were once friends, so it is not like Cyrax just joined the Lin Kuei. On one hand, I understand why NRS went with Cyrax’s personality in such a direction, on another, she feels so un-Lin Kuei, I have no idea why Sektor and Sub-Zero even bothered with her in the first place. Like... what was so special about Cyrax for the whole fuss about her from their perspective?

In all fairness, I’m also a bit confused how MK1 and Khaos Reigns follow the same storyline. In the previous game, Bi-Han was captured by Kuai Liang after the ill-fated mission and presumably imprisoned. Then somehow Lin Kuei was asked(?) to aid Liu Kang in the battle against the sorcerers

so how is that the news of Sub-Zero allying with Shang Tsung is still a secret to anyone  if Lin Kuei already made a decision to abbadon Earthrealm in need - story wise, after Bi-Han was defeated by Scorpion and captured? So I’m to believe Scorpion took compromised Sub-Zero to Lin Kuei headquarters like nothing happened, did not mention the whole allying with enemy, then left to honor tradition and dad and joined Liu Kang and some time later he is angry at Cyrax she believed in a not-well prepared lie? Is this me, or did NRS not connect all the dots together between the first game and the additional storyline and kinda every character took damage to intelligence so the story could go from point A to point B?

The relationship between certain characters is frustrating, I won’t lie about it. But I’m much more frustrated by how the logic and consequences of events feel either forced or make little sense. I do not except a brilliant, smart storytelling from a fighting game, but when characters that are supposed to be competent and/or trained for a specific job suddenly share one brain cell - and no one is using it at all - kills a great chunk of enthusiasm I had for Mortal Kombat.

I may not like my fav characters being robbed of their original complexity and yet still enjoying the fact they are part of the storyline. I do however take a great offense when story mode turns them into incompetent idiots just to push plot from point A to point B.

[thedragonkinproject]

PLEASE, PLEASE someone make a cute 10k> merthur fanfiction based on this reel https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6NDRvZIsQm/?igsh=MXA0eGxxcmUwd2dnZA==

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[iriysse]

Aredhel watching other people in ships: aww lookit these adorable nerds. They're fucking hilarious. Omg that one is blushing awwwww it's cuuute. Dorks.

Aredhel in her own ships: ASDFGHJKL H E L P

[romanianseba]

rewatching gotg vol 3 and it's adorable how everyone is the parent and everyone is the child at the same time

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

New crackship idea: Jolinar x Ancano

Nin, I love the way you think.

Truly the most hilarious of all possible Jolinar ships.

[ode-of-odr-archive]

‘  you touch me  &  my skin burns  &  it burns for you,  always you.  ’ (hhhhhehe)

Well, his touch may set her skin ablaze but her comment about it incenerated his cheeks, and the inferno was spreading down his neck.

"That does not sound good. Might be a reaction of my blood and the divine blessing of your goddess. You should ask Shadowheart about that." he stammered out.

Gods, was this what it was like to be flirted with? How in the hells was he supposed to respond and for the love of Ilmater when did it get so damn hot?

The demon spawn looked over at Gale and Wyll, desperate for an out so she didn't have to see his body just go up like he was the one with an infernal heart.

Gale unknowingly when he made eye contact became part of this man's escape from being flustered.

"Gale, you were complaining about the alchemical pack getting to heavy, yes?" Raserei blurted out quickly.

He looked back at Eira, looking like a spooked deer. Such an odd sight for a man of his stature. But he managed to smile. She was beautiful.

"Sorry, need to help Gale, but talk to Shadowheart, make sure you are okay."

[archivistofnerddom]

And this is the most competent person out of the three people coming to rescue her:

seeing mon and kleya’s thrilling escapes from coruscant makes leia’s first reaction to luke and han even funnier. leia must’ve heard about these highly skilled rebels but then when she gets captured, she gets a hillbilly farmboy and an idiot smuggler to rescue her

[talubld]

@wingbeatz liked for an emerald starter!

" MANECTRIC - use SHOCK WAVE on that tree--! "

it's been a short while since the former hoenn runner-up has commanded their team, perhaps too long, because the moveset they had once taught their team members no longer held the same punch they used to and that needed to change.

the electric dog's move powers up once more, charred trees with various degrees of burn dot around the landscape where their walrein stands ready to put out any electrical fires the two accidentally start, that is until they spot a figure coming right through the forest.

in a panic, emerald shouts out to stop the attack and manectric doesn't seem too pleased with this, cutting it off with a huff while barking at their new, somewhat familiar companion.

they don't notice that, though, too worked up on having to stop their training so abruptly. " what the hell, man?! take a hint when y'hear someone commandin' a pokémon to maybe NOT go where they are?! " always so quick to temper.

[mooningningg]

"ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴀʙʏ?"

...In which someone calls you 'baby' in front of them.

sukuna, toji, gojo, and nanami.

genre, fluff. notes, jealous jjk men series?

Sukuna.

You had to beg him to wear the stupid headband. “You’ll look so cute,” you’d said. “I’ll look like a fucking idiot,” he replied. And yet… here he is. Sukuna Ryomen. The King of Curses (or, well, King of Trash Talk), six-foot disaster with literal pink cat ears on his head and a soda in one hand.

You're mid-laugh when someone calls out, “Hey, baby!”

You turn — and your ex is standing there. Grinning like a damn fool, like he didn’t cheat on you with a girl who draws her eyebrows on with Sharpie.

Sukuna’s soda stops mid-sip. His entire soul pauses.

“The fuck did you just call her?”

Your ex blinks. “Uh… it’s just a—”

“Just a what? A brain cell you’re missing? You blind, dumb, or both?”

He’s marching over now, cat ears bouncing, which should make it less intimidating but somehow makes it worse.

“You don’t get to call her that. You had your shot, buddy. And you fumbled it like a crusty little clown.”

“Sukuna,” you hiss, but he’s fully activated.

“This is my girl now. Mine. Look at me. Look at these ears. Do you think I wear this shit for just anyone?”

Your ex sputters. “I-I was just being friendly—”

“No, you were being a bottom-shelf loser with the emotional maturity of a wet sock. Scram.”

And he does. Walks away without a word. Sukuna adjusts his cat ears, scowling. “Tch. That guy had the same energy as a lukewarm gas station hot dog.”

You burst out laughing, grabbing his hand. He squeezes it — and for a second, you catch a soft grin beneath all that bite.

Toji.

You’re standing in line for churros. Toji’s behind you, arms around your waist, chin resting lazily on your shoulder.

A guy walks up — some old college friend you haven’t seen in forever. You go in for a quick hug.

“Damn, baby, you look good.”

Toji straightens up. You feel it immediately: the shift. The silence.

Then:

“The fuck did you just say?"

The guy chuckles nervously. “It’s just a joke, man—”

Toji’s hand slides back to your waist, pulling you snug against his chest. He leans in, whispering — but loud enough for the guy to hear:

“You got jokes, huh? Want me to tell one? Knock knock.”

Your friend blinks. “…Who’s there?”

“The guy who calls my girl ‘baby’ again. Say it one more time, and I’ll show you the punchline.”

You slap his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

The guy’s laugh dies completely. “Uh, yeah, okay — see you around.”

“No, you won’t.”

Toji’s lips graze your temple as the guy speed-walks away. He grabs your churros from the counter and hands them to you with a smirk.

“How many people you flirted with in college?”

You grin. “Only, like, five.”

“…Make that four. One just relocated to Canada out of fear.”

Gojo.

You’re holding his hand, swinging it back and forth, when someone shouts from behind you:

“Baby! Yo, it’s been forever!”

You turn around — and it's that guy from your campus club. The one who always joked about marrying you one day. Ha ha. (Gojo never laughed.)

“Oh my god, hi!” you greet. “This is—”

“Baby?” Gojo interrupts, smiling wide. “That your government name for her, or are you just publicly embarrassing yourself?”

The guy chuckles awkwardly. “It’s just a nickname, no offense.”

“Sure, sure,” Gojo hums. “And I call your mom ‘Sweet Cheeks,’ but we’re not making it official either.”

You slap his arm, but he’s not done. He casually loops both arms around you from behind and starts pressing kisses to your cheek — obnoxiously loud ones.

“My baby, huh?” kiss “The one who wakes up drooling on my chest?” kiss “The one who stole my hoodie and never gave it back?” kiss

Your friend is fully regretting this interaction. You giggle, red in the face, and Gojo beams.

“But hey,” he says with that dangerously sweet smile. “Thanks for reminding her how lucky she is.”

The guy flees. Gojo rests his chin on your head and says, smug as hell:

“I should’ve called him sport. Or champ. Next time.”

Nanami.

It happens at the souvenir stall. You’re comparing overpriced keychains when a voice pipes up behind you:

“Still cute as ever, baby.”

You turn around, confused — and it’s someone from your old job. That guy who always tried to flirt when Nanami picked you up.

Nanami’s right behind you. No expression. No hesitation.

“Don’t call her that.”

The guy blinks. “Chill, man. It’s just a joke.”

Nanami steps between you two, straightens his tie. Looks the guy dead in the eyes.

“A joke implies humor. I don’t find you amusing. She’s not your ‘baby.’ Not your anything.”

It’s not loud. It’s not aggressive. But it lands.

The guy raises his hands. “Alright, alright.”

Nanami turns to you, places a warm hand on your lower back.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

You leave, no drama, just quiet satisfaction. Later, when you’re eating dango on a bench, he wipes your cheek with a napkin and murmurs,

“You’re mine. I have no intention of sharing that.”

[2kidult]

✶ local girl shifts realities, finds god in a small town & lavender linen spray (storytime)

GUYS. GUYS. GUYS. I SHIFTED. I SHIFTED I SHIFTED I SHIFTED I SHIFTED I SHIFTEDDDDDDDD. i haven't had a successful shifting attempt in almost 2 years. TWO YEARS. i was starting to think it wasn't going to happen again??

i woke up in a bed that wasn't mine but also was. u know the type. perfectly rumpled, cloud-level soft, the kind of bed that has seen gentle mornings and lavender linen spray. sunlight pouring in through my window like god personally decided i deserved a cinematic morning. like okay??!!?? i stared at the ceiling like some idiot. and just. laid there. not thinking. not blinking. just existing. like some tragic victorian window except instead of mourning my dead husband i'm mourning clarity. or a single functional brain cell. for a second i thought i had died. it was too peaceful. too quiet. just birds and the soft sound of the curtain moving slightly in the breeze ❪ it also smelled like pines and clean laundry??? ❫

ANYWAY. i got out of bed like some dainty renaissance wife. the floors were wood, warm, and sort of creaky. i explored my very own apartment. because yes i have one. my very own. no parents. no siblings. just me. my kitchen had a espresso machine and a bowl of white peaches on the counter. there were books stacked on the windowsill, a vase with oriental lilies on the table, and a mug that looked like i had already made tea and forgotten about it.

it's above a bookstore. A BOOKSTORE!!!!! the kind with a crooked wooden sign out front and a little bell that jingles when the door opens. shelves that go all the way up to the ceiling. books in piles on the floor like no one had the heart to organize them. i went down just to look and somehow ended up talking to the shop owner about poetry for like. 40 minutes. i think i love her.

i made my way to the university i'm attending once the summer break is over. the campus is stupidly gorgeous. ivy on the walls, girls reading poetry under the trees, some guy with headphones on sketching something on a notepad under a gazebo. the buildings smelled like rain and old books and just the right amount of despair.

i didn't do much on the first day, i think i was just overwhelmed. i mostly just wandering around town with my hands shaking and my brain was switching between being too loud and too quiet.

and yes. i woke up in my cr and i think something inside of me has died. back where everything is too light and too bright and smells like bad decisions and capitalism. how do you return to normalcy after shifting? how do you go to your 8am classes and pretend nothing happened?

[panpan-37]

How I think SJ and SY would meet if there wasn’t any sibling or Shizun/disciple au going on:

At Huan Hua Palace

Shen Yuan is a traveling renowned scholar. His name is known and praised in both the human and demon realms (he unknowingly helped Su Xiyan and Tianlang-Jun with their relationship and prevented the original disaster from happening so Tianlang-Jun sings his praises every time he shows off his wife and son.) he is also the third son of a noble family.

To sum it up, he’s a snobby self confident bitch. And no one can stop him.

Shen Jiu, as the head disciple of Qing Jing peak, has gone to Huan Hua Palace for a conference. It’s his first alone with no observations from his Shizun. He’s a bit worried, which just means he’s extra bitchy today.

Shen Yuan approaches Shen Jiu—with no clue to who he is or his status—because of the book he has in his hand. It’s one of his favorites. And this guy says he’s going to be speaking at the meeting he’s going to in order to discuss some points in it and relate them to current problems and make solutions. Shen Yuan is now actually excited about this meeting!

And then, halfway through a very interesting conversation with someone with actual brain cells (both of their thoughts) some Huan Hua disciple cuts in. He starts spouting some nonsense about how they shouldn’t be in this hallway and that if they didn’t leave he would be forced to remove them. Choosing to ignore the idiot, they keep on their conversation about the book in Shen Jiu’s hands.

Seeing himself being ignored for a book, the disciple decides to take it from their hands and go on his whole speech once again.

Big mistake.

Twenty minutes later, the Huan Hua disciple is covering his eyes and crying in a ball on the ground as Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan collectively humiliated the disciples entire bloodline, made him wish he was never born, and gotten the boy to completely withdrawal from being a cultivator or anything else of any importance ever again because he was clearly too incompetent for anything where he had to look over himself.

The sect leader, watching from afar to report back to Shen Jiu’s Shizun, nods in approval. He’ll have to invite this Shen Yuan boy to Cang Qiong if his speech is any good.

SY and SJ become bitch buddies. Then maybe more. But anyone who tries to question them ends up questioning their entire life choices, so it’s not a very popular topic. 

[kxsagi]

Salutationsss, hiii, I'm the same anon that sent a request, something abt a nerd readerr, I'm sorry for requesting when you weren't taking at the time! I didn't see 😔. But could I req that same trope again?? Thank so much you for your time!

“𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 🤓☝️”

a/n: hiii you’re all good, but unfortunately i don’t have that request anymore so i’m not sure what specifically you requested

bc of that, i turned this into headcanons and i hope you don’t mind! 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, bachira meguru

isagi yoichi

yoichi thought he was smart until he started dating you. like sure, he knows tactics, he’s got game IQ, but you? you’re out here solving riddles on a whiteboard like it’s nothing. 

he once asked if you wanted to watch a documentary with him and you said “only if it’s narrated by joe dispenza or has a plot twist at the 30-minute mark.” 

he genuinely thinks you have a superpower. how else do you know this much random stuff? 

"you know how many stars are in the milky way galaxy?" you ask. "no," he says. "good. neither do scientists. but i will ruin your sleep schedule by explaining dark matter." 

yoichi gets this glazed-over look when you go off, like he’s watching god speak through you. 

“bro, how do you know all this?” he whispers in awe as you explain entropy using a sandwich. 

he’s not even mad when you correct his grammar in front of people. in fact, he gets a little flustered. "did you just… teach me something in public? … hot. whatwhosaidthat." 

itoshi rin

rin fell for you after overhearing you quote dostoevsky and then immediately say “but also, the scooby-doo gang was gay-coded.” 

he will die before admitting how hot he finds your brain. like, he’ll glare at you when you start infodumping about the history of the guillotine, but that glare is just him trying not to fall for you. 

you send him 20-slide powerpoints at 3 AM about why light yagami was right, and he reads every single one. he’s unwell. 

once he saw you organizing your bookshelf by theme, subgenre, and emotional damage, and he just… stood there. watching. blinking. 

“you okay?” you ask. “… can i kiss you right now or is that, like, a breach of the fibonacci sequence or whatever.” 

he has an entire notes app folder full of weird phrases you say. once you said “i want to kiss you under the fluorescent lights of an abandoned lab” and he had to take a walk. 

god help anyone who tries to outsmart you because rin doesn’t even jump in to help. he just steps aside like, “yeah, go ahead. she’s got it.” 

itoshi sae

sae met you once and immediately started saying “shut up, nerd” in the most loving tone imaginable. 

like yeah he acts unbothered, but if you stop talking about your interests for five seconds he’s like “… why’d you stop?” 

you once brought a clipboard and a graph to explain how his sleep schedule is ruining his skin elasticity. he hasn’t eaten sugar since. 

he’s obsessed with how you argue. like, someone will say, “i didn’t really like that movie” and you’ll go, “well actually, the entire point of the cinematography was to mimic isolation, so your brain’s just too small for the themes.” 

and sae’s in the corner nodding proudly like “yeah. eat ‘em alive, baby.” 

he won’t ever admit it out loud, but if you ever stopped being smart? he would simply perish. 

also: he absolutely starts fights on twitter just to screenshot them and send them to you like “babe, look what this idiot said. go ruin him.” 

kaiser michael

oh he lives for this. the way you ramble about history and sprinkle in “violence”? he is down BAD. 

kaiser will interrupt you mid-rant just to be annoying. like you’re explaining molecular structures and he goes “explain it to me like i’m five… and make it sexy.” “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” “well then i am the powerhouse of this relationship.” “please stop talking.” 

if you cosplay? he is fully in character. fake accent. dramatic monologue. he once spent $200 on a fake sword just to match your anime aesthetic. 

calls you “my little google doc” or “professor schatz” in public and refuses to stop. 

he 100% cheats off your notes if you take a class together. 

also once used your obsession with linguistics as an excuse to kiss you mid-sentence: “wait wait, how do you pronounce lo–” smooch “oops. distracted you. guess i win.” 

you're the only person on earth that can out-argue him. and he loves it. even when you humiliate him in a debate club meeting in front of six people. especially then. 

mikage reo

rich. nerd. simp. this man once bought you a whiteboard wall so you could explain conspiracy theories and niche film symbolism uninterrupted. 

he funds your hobbies like it’s a government project. need 72 highlighters in pastel? boom. got ‘em. a limited edition sailor moon notebook with gold foil? already shipped. “i just need this for journaling, reo.” “you mean world domination. say less.” 

he loves pretending he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about just to hear you explain it like a teacher. 

he’ll sit there all wide-eyed like, “woah, tell me more about black holes.” 

you once built a 3D model of the solar system for fun. he walked in, saw saturn, and said, “hey babe. just like saturn, i’ll adorn you with the most beautiful rings in the universe.” 

he once got jealous because you were paying more attention to your manga than him. “you’ve been reading for three hours.” “i’m at the part where they confess their undying love, you can’t interrupt now–” “… i’ll confess my undying love right now if it gets me eye contact.” 

nagi seishiro

nagi doesn’t understand a single thing you’re talking about, but he loves the way you talk. 

you could be explaining the lifecycle of a parasite and he’d just go “cool... say that again but slower. it sounded pretty.” 

he gets very attached to your reading time. you’ll be curled up with a book and he’ll just drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and nap while you whisper lore. 

you tried to teach him a game strategy once using chess pieces and he got bored halfway through and started kissing your neck. “sei, focus.” “i am focused. on the smartest person i know.” 

he secretly loves it when you make schedules, take notes, organize everything – he feels calmer with your brain leading the way. 

you once said, “i’d choose you even in a logic simulation.” and he got so flustered he forgot how to hold his phone for five minutes. 

shidou ryusei

you are the one person on earth who intimidates him. not because you’re loud, but because you’re smart and savage. 

he’ll say something like “gravity’s a myth” and you’ll deadpan, “so is your personality.” 

he flirts with you just to hear what kind of insults you’ll hurl back. 

you’ll be like “actually, that’s a misinterpretation of the theory of relativity” and he’ll be like “wow. you wanna kiss me or correct me harder, nerdzilla?” 

he once called your bookshelf a “nerd shrine” and you kicked him out. he came back with snacks and a post-it that said “i’ll behave if you teach me about the holy trinity”. 

he thinks it’s hilarious when you use big words. starts repeating them wrong on purpose. “you’re being extremely cacophonous right now.” “aw, thanks. i try.” 

he says he doesn’t care about your trivia. but the next week, he quotes you during a fight with a ref. “well actually, statistically speaking, you’re 73% more likely to suck.” 

karasu tabito

karasu walked in on you doing sudoku while eating spicy ramen and watching a documentary and went, “yep. that’s my girl.” 

he teases you constantly but don’t let that fool you – he brags about you to everyone. “yeah, she solved a murder mystery in two minutes. sexy, right?” 

he once found your annotated copy of crime and punishment and was like “damn, she’s not just a menace, she’s an educated menace.” 

he makes fun of your color-coded calendar, but then uses it religiously. 

calls your bookbag your “bat-nerd utility belt.” 

you once said “i organize chaos with knowledge” and he choked on his water because how are you both terrifying and hot at the same time. 

he 100% made you a trivia quiz as a date activity and cried when you got a perfect score. 

“i can’t even spell aesthetic,” he sniffled. “but you… you're a weapon of intellect.” 

bachira meguru

bachira thinks your brain is the eighth wonder of the world. he stares at you when you talk like you’re casting a spell. 

he mimics you when you start nerding out. “so actually, the evolution of language–” 

“babe, are you possessed again? blink twice if you’re still in there.” 

he brings you weird niche books from secondhand stores and is like “i got this because it looks cursed. i knew you’d love it.” 

he once watched you do a sudoku puzzle and got jealous of the numbers. “why are you smiling at that box like that.” 

loves playing study music and drawing you while you read. your “reading face” is his favorite thing ever. 

he doesn’t get half the things you say but if someone else calls you a nerd? he’s biting ankles. no hesitation. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[strawberry-nugget]

In which, you meet up with Tomura Shigaraki in an abandoned building after patrol and he fucks you against a wall like the good little hero you are. 😮‍💨🫶🏻

Pairing: Shigaraki x fem!reader

Tags // Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, p in v sex, degradation, humiliation kink (kinda?), hero x villain relationship, creampie, unprotected sex, shigaraki being a freak lowkey (??) guilty pleasure sex, pwp

Secrets are saccharine.

At least that’s what your friend always told you. That secrets are sweeter when they’re well kept—mouth watering when you go back and forth on letting anyone know. The thrill. The rush. The utter shock of pleasure your friends give you when you finally voice the things you’ve kept. Secrets taste like nectar.

And to whom it may concern, secrets are carbs. They’re salt and sugar. They’re nicotine. A substance that makes you obsessed—wanting to know everyone’s truths, wanting to cradle the things that don’t concern you, or clamp your own between your teeth and take them to your grave. Whatever they are, secrets pull humans in. Your friend said they’re the most humane thing after sex.

But you know better.

Secrets are vile and predatory. They crawl into bed with you at night, shimmy your brain out of your skull, and plant their roots in your chest. They spread like fire—like old creaking wood being nailed into the floor of a beautiful home, just to hide the rot underneath. The hide that’s really beneath you, the things you can’t say. Your secret, the one you’ve kept safe for so long—you made sure there was no sooner or later in the quarry of when you’d be found out.

You won’t.

The meeting place changes each time, naturally. A warehouse near the docks. A gutted school. Now, this to-be-renovated apartment complex, hollowed out like a ribcage. The disastrous fate of being seen entering a building with a criminal hasn’t even left your mind— it could ruin you—but the thrill of snooping around like this, folding yourself and your ethics like origami, sends shivers down your spine.

Your lip trembles. Ankles clashing. Your feet are loud when they shouldn’t be. The mere thought of Shigaraki Tomura waiting in a dark corner behind the jagged teeth of broken glass is enough to get your ribs aching—nerve endings pinched every time your mind replays his face.

You step through the silence like it’s alive. Broken glass underfoot answers for you. You look for the familiar tint of that white-ish blue topaz—his hair, always messy, always untamed. It peeks out from beneath his hood like a tell, and your breath hitches.

He’s already watching you.

“You’re late,” he mutters. His voice barely makes it through the sounds of comatose debris, but you hear it like it was said inside your mouth.

“My shift ran late.”

“Ever the hero.” He scoffs, turning his head like it offends him to look at you.

You gulp. There’s something in you that wants to walk away, to treat this like a mistake you haven’t made yet. But you don’t. You bite the inside of your cheek, tongue thick in your mouth as you stand there like an idiot waiting for him to do something, say something, start something.

He doesn’t.

So you stomp—on purpose, like a tantrum, like you can’t pretend you’re better than this—and walk right up to him, pressing your forehead to his like you’re about to start a fight.

But your mouth crashes into his instead.

There’s no point holding back. The reason you’re both here has already been talked to death. This thing—this itch in your blood—it’s kept you up at night, left you wrecked in the shower with your hand between your legs and your name nowhere on your tongue. His name however, is a different story.

And if anyone saw this? Saw you, fresh off patrol, lips locked with Tomura’s? You’d be imprisoned. License revoked. Stripped of your title. Labeled a traitor. They’d look down on you even in your cell.

But the way he kisses you back, it shreds all your logic into silk ribbons. His gloved hand grabs your collar, yanking you close. His teeth catch your bottom lip like a snare.

And you? You’re split apart on it.

Because it feels good. Too good.

Because he kisses like someone who doesn’t get kissed. Who doesn’t get touched. Like it’s a threat and a promise all at once.

Your hands, shaky but hungry, find the hem of his hoodie. You curl your fingers underneath, feel the heat of his skin just above his waistband. His hips twitch forward when you touch him, and a noise gets caught in his throat—frustrated and soft.

“Still dressed like a good little soldier,” he breathes against your jaw, dragging a hand down your thigh, over your belt.

“Still playing criminal in a hoodie,” you snap back, even as your breath stutters when his fingers hook into the waistband of your hero suit, dragging it down an inch—just enough for the cool air to kiss your hip bone.

He groans, the sound low and near a growl. “You talk too much.”

You smile against his mouth, biting his lower lip this time. “You like it.”

His grip tightens.

Glass crunches as he presses you back, pinning you to a half-broken pillar. Your thighs part for him instinctively, traitorously. You shouldn’t be like this—you shouldn’t want this.

But your hands are already under his hoodie, nails dragging down the ridges of his scarred back. Your hero gloves fall to the floor. His mouth is on your neck now, tongue hot and slow, teeth grazing the place no one’s supposed to touch.

You gasp. He groans again, this time less controlled. His hips press into yours like a threat, like he’s daring you to stop him. To be the better person.

But you’re not.

Not here. Not anymore.

And when he grinds against you—slow, hard, through the layers of your uniform like he doesn’t care how long it takes—you start to think secrets might really be sweeter than sin.

His hands are on your waist, gloved and rough, but hungry. They dip under the hem of your suit like he’s tearing open a present he doesn’t deserve—fingers tracing the shape of you like he’s memorizing it for when you’re gone.

You gasp into his mouth when he pushes his thigh between your legs, and your hips betray you—grinding down on him with aching need. The friction sends a shock through your spine.

“That desperate for it?” he whispers into your neck, voice hot and broken. “You risked everything for this?”

You can’t answer

Your fingers are already working at his belt like your body’s on autopilot—like your mind checked out five minutes ago and left your hands to handle the sinning.

He watches you with that glassy, obsessive stare. The kind of look that makes you feel small and desired at the same time. His cock twitches against your palm when you finally free him from the layers—thick and flushed, already hard, already leaking at the tip like he’s been waiting all day for this.

You stroke him once—slow and tight—and he curses under his breath, grabbing your wrist.

“Don’t fucking tease me.”

You raise an eyebrow, lips parted. “Then shut up and let me have it.”

And he does.

He turns you around with a growl, bending you over the half-demolished windowsill. Your palms slap against the concrete, fingers digging into dust. Your hero suit is halfway off, tangled around your thighs, your cunt already wet and aching and on display. You hear him spit into his hand. Then feel him—hot, solid—rubbing the head of his cock between your folds, coating himself in everything you shouldn’t be giving him.

Your breath catches. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

Not even a prayer.

He pushes in slow. Thick. Relentless. The stretch makes your eyes flutter, hips bucking back instinctively, chasing the burn. He groans behind you, low and guttural.

���Fuck. You—” he cuts himself off, grabbing your hips like he’s anchoring himself to reality. “You’re so fucking wet f’ me.”

“Shut up,” you whisper. It’s not anger—it’s shame, it’s desperation, it’s don’t ruin it.

But he starts to thrust, slow at first, then harder, deeper—like he’s trying to bury the whole goddamn war inside you. Your body jolts forward with every thrust, the windowsill scraping against your thighs, your cheek pressed to concrete. Every drag of his cock feels like fire and ice and something close to the thrill of the destruction of his quirk —all at once.

Your eyes roll back.

You’re making sounds you can’t swallow. Gasps and moans and little broken pieces of who you used to be. He leans over your back, lips at your ear.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he rasps. “To be ruined by a villain?”

You nod, throat dry, eyes teary. “Harder.”

He growls and slams into you—hard enough the sound echoes off the walls. The slap of skin on skin is filthy. So is the wet slick every time he pulls out and thrusts back in. You’re clenching around him like your body knows he doesn’t belong there and doesn’t care.

One hand leaves your hip. Moves to your front.

Fingers—gloved, unforgiving—find your clit and rub tight, fast circles that make your knees buckle.

He fucks you like the world’s already ended.

Like you don’t wear that suit. Like you don’t save people. Like he hasn’t watched you on the news with your lips pressed into a grim line, pretending to be righteous while your thighs squeeze together behind the podium.

The derelict building groans around you. The walls are bowing from age, glass shards shimmer on the floor like teeth, and the air smells like rust, old cigarettes, and something sickly sweet—like rot pretending to be candy.

His hips slam against your ass, relentless, each thrust pushing you forward against the cold windowsill. You brace yourself on your forearms, knuckles white. There’s nothing soft about this. He fucks you through guilt, through concrete dust, through the kind of shame you’ll never be able to wash off.

“Listen to you,” he growls, voice raw, forehead pressed to your spine as his cock drives in again. “Fucking soaked for a killer. Getting off on the sound of glass breaking while I ruin you.”

You gasp, tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

“Tell me what the Commission would say if they saw you like this,” he snarls, one hand gripping your jaw and twisting your head just enough for your cheek to scrape the brick. “What would they call you, huh? Little hero? Sweetheart? Or just a fucking traitor?”

His other hand is between your legs again, middle finger working tight, brutal circles on your clit—matching the pace of his cock pounding into you from behind. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

You’re shaking. You’re so close again you can barely breathe.

“That’s it,” he hisses into your ear, fucking you harder now, losing rhythm in the filth of it. “I can feel it. You’re gonna cum all over me like a goddamn whore, aren’t you? After everything? After arresting villains like me last week—you’re still fucking coming for me.”

Your voice catches in your throat. “Tomura—”

“Say it again.”

His voice is low. Dangerous. The kind of voice that crawls under your skin and rewires the good parts of you.

You moan his name again, louder this time, fucked out and shaking. He slams into you deep and stays there, his cock twitching inside you as he grits out a curse and spills himself with a low, guttural groan. The warmth floods you, wrong and thick and claiming.

But he doesn’t pull out.

Not right away.

He lets it sit there—lets the stretch and the fullness and the mess of it all marinate as he leans over you, breath ragged, body pressed close.

“Hope you feel it dripping out of you when you put that suit back on,” he mutters against your ear. “Let it ruin your patrol.”

You shudder, cunt still fluttering around him as the last pulses of orgasm fade into tremors.

“Tell me,” he murmurs after a beat, hand still between your thighs, two fingers lazily rubbing at your overstimulated clit. “When you hug people after saving them… do your hands still shake? Knowing you let me fuck you like that?”

You whimper, body spasming, legs unsteady beneath you.

He finally pulls out, slow and wet and unforgiving. You feel it drip—down your thighs, onto the concrete. You don’t even move to fix your suit. You just breathe.

Shigaraki zips himself up, but he doesn’t look away. He just watches you from the shadows—half-lit in the glow of a broken streetlamp bleeding through the shattered glass.

“You’ll come back,” he says quietly, almost like it’s a fact. Not a threat. Not a plea.

Just truth. And he’s right.

Because even as you pull your suit up with shaking fingers, even as shame slams into your chest like a sledgehammer, even as your comm crackles to life with your sidekick’s voice searching for you on an open frequency—you know this wasn’t the last time.

You know the rot is in you now, too. It has been for a long time.

And you hope that later, during the war, you're not placed on the Shigaraki battlefield.

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

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