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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

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what's a cabin konig? Just stumbled across your amazing drabbles about cabin!konig but i have no clue what that actually means (im sorry 😭) and like, i can't really visualize it?

ALSO I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LIVE YOUR MINOTAUR!KONIG WORK OMG ITS SO GOOD LIKE *chefs kiss* IT CHANGED THE TRAJECTORY IF MY LIFE FR

Ohhh cabin!König is just this broody nasty man who has hauled you to the Alps for breeding. He comes close to off the grid!König who's a much more benevolent fellow, whereas cabin König is driven by a single purpose and that purpose is to coax you inside this cute little mountain cabin and get you pregnant :/

He's very territorial and doesn't want anyone to disturb his mating season (which lasts approx. 4-6 months) so while you spend your days trying to choose whether to bake him Apfelstrudel or cinnamon buns, König is walking around the cabin's perimeter with a hunting rifle in his hands, checking "animal traps"/de facto killing any poor travellers who had the odd chance of wandering too deep into the wilderness...

Basically just a guy who decided that you're the perfect mother for his kids! You met him on some dating app and things got pretty serious pretty fast, König made his intentions clear right away... So now you're spending a romantic holiday up in the mountains because he said it's a stress-free environment. He also makes sure you stay nice and cozy and warm, eat properly and of course take his seed, every day just in case <3

#lmao I have no idea what or who cabin König is #it just seemed fitting to call him that!#somehow I'm seeing him as this traditionally dressed Adler König guy but without the crazy beard #then again you found this guy on a dating app??#it's modern day König so why would he flaunt those kind of clothes...#one of his many quirks I guess

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willowser · 5 months

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alright alright i know i just clowned him BUT there is something so endearing about bakugou being a little fucking nerd and getting his nerdy things 🥺 continuing on the shoes thing—imagine him hearing about the re-release on his super small all might media forum and he's like 😤 fuck yeah 😤 WHAT A LOSER 🥺🥺🥺🥺 and then he's waiting up, refreshing his phone for when they drop so he can buy them before they sell out 🥺 and he gets a pair and he's soooo 😤😤😤 let's goooooooo 😤😤 bc he remembers being a kid 🥺 seeing them advertised and thinking how badly he wanted these stupid shoes !!! 🥺 and now he can finally get them !!! 🥺 and they come in the mail and they fit and he's so !!! 🥺 thrilled 🥺 bye i'm eating him alive

#getting the all might shoes of his childhood dreams like real-bakugou-smile moment 🥺🥺🥺#BYEEEE he makes me so crazy i'm EATING him up i love a nerd #i love a nerd so gd much #i just think so much of his life has revolved around his quirk and training to be the best of the best and like #what did he get to slow down and enjoy #as a kid it was the hero cards maybe #but like....between 7-17 ??? what did he DO for FUN ???#what did he ENJOY #he was DEAD AT 17 SKCNFUSJAN LIKE ?????#i just want him to happy i'm so obsessed with him #✿ thoughts: bakugou

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figofswords · 4 months

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somebody rec me some good books. and they do actually have to be good. don’t rec me something just because it’s gay or it’s popular, it has to also still be good. like both the story and the writing have to be good none of this good concept bad writing or good writing horrible story. fantasy or soft scifi preferred, especially if it’s nontraditional fantasy. I am bored and sick of the internet and I want to get back into reading more but I’m kinda meh about most of what’s on my shelf

*edit: when I say “soft scifi” I don’t mean cozy I mean not hard scifi, as in stories that are more fantastical than grounded in hard science. for example the Martian is considered hard scifi, so not that. Star Wars would be closer to a soft scifi bc it’s all bullshit on the science end and it’s more about the vibes

#I started the jasmine throne and that was good but then I noticed a somewhat repetitive quirk of the writing style #and once I noticed it I couldn’t STOP noticing it which was extremely distracting and made it hard to pay attention to the story #the problem with books is I am sooooo hypercritical and so many ppl are bad writers and get published anyway #and booktok can’t tell the difference so these shitty books become bestsellers just bc they’re gay and tropey #not that jasmine throne is bad writing. it’s ok writing I just can’t stop noticing they overuse one particular sentence structure #and now it’s driving me crazy #but there are plenty of other bestselling books that ARE legitimately bad writing #I’m reading a psalm for the wild built rn and that is genuinely really good and next is the second book #but I’m almost done with the first one and both are like. really short. so I need something for when I finish those #(carefully does not look at the stack of comics I bought at SPX that I haven’t read yet)

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stellamancer · 11 months

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bkdk x reader 👀

Okay BYEEEEE 🏃‍♀️

I can't believe you, omg.

You open the door, expecting to find the bag of food you'd ordered to be delivered, and you do.

But you find Katsuki too.

And he looks positively livid.

Katsuki glowers at you, teeth bared menacingly. "You can order fuckin' DoorDash, but ya can't answer your fuckin' phone?"

You open your mouth, hoping an excuse will come out, but it doesn't— anything you could possibly say is trapped, lodged behind a lump in your throat that you can't get rid of. Katsuki stares expectantly, oddly patient as he waits for you to explain yourself.

Not that you intend to.

In hindsight, it would have been better to just shut the door in his face, saying you'll talk to him and Izuku when you're good and ready— a promise you don't intend to keep. But, Katsuki is nothing if not relentless, and worse than him is—

You duck down, and push past Katsuki, running. It's nothing short of a miracle that he doesn't catch you then and there, his speed and reflexes far, far superior to your own. You barrel down the hallway of your apartment complex, and you can hear him chasing after you. It won't be long before he catches up to you, and if he does you'll be forced to talk. And you don't want to do that.

So you do something a little crazy.

You reach the stairs and instead of attempting to run down them, you latch onto the hand rail at the top and using your momentum from running, you swing yourself over the side to jump all the way down the entire flight of stairs.

Behind you, Katsuki yells something, your name or maybe it's—

As you're falling, something grabs you, and you know the feel, the ghostly sensation of Black Whip wrapped around your body, the tendrils buzzing with a gentle vibration.

Izuku.

You hadn't seen him, but you should have known he'd be here. Would have insisted on it even. You're lowered to the ground, but you remain wrapped up. Katsuki may be the more fiery of the two, but ironically enough, you think Izuku is the more merciless one.

He appears, approaching you with a frown deep set into his features, his eyes wide and concerned. You're hit with a pang of guilt and you don't know if Izuku means to wield his expressions like a weapon, but it's effective.

"Please," he pleads, stepping closer. Katsuki appears behind him, looking to have hopped the stairs as well. He watches, frowning still, as Izuku does the dirty work. What a perfect pair they are, you think in annoyance. Izuku takes another step toward you, repeating. "Please. We just want to talk, okay?"

#requests #erika tag #nikuniku fics #it's not explicitly reader x bkdk #i'm sorry erikaaaa #it's only implied #i actually don't even know what the fuck is happening here #lmaoo i thought of something cute intially #and then thought no #that's how we got here #i just wanted to write a chase scene LMAOO #i didn't want to go too crazy so it's short lmao #that and i don't think anyone could outrun these two working together for long if they didn't have a quirk

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gentrychild · 8 months

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Anyone! Is afo deluding himself into thinking that izuku will never get strong enough to kill him head on, or does he have some scheme planned or something?

Oh, that's pure denial on his part. Izuku is sixteen and managed to give him one hell of a fight while half dead. The more quirks he gets and the closer AFO is to being killed and since he doesn't want to consider his eventual unaliving, which will probably happens with Izuku's teeth ripping his throat, he is still hanging on to the fact that he is stronger and surely, since he will keep collecting quirks, Izuku will never bridge the gap of power between them.

#AFO can get all the quirks he wants but in the end Izuku will ALWAYS be better than him at using his limited amount of quirks #But please do assume that AFO in the next chapters is working out like crazy (off screen) so his son doesn't catch up to him too soon #anyone fic

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hawnks · 11 months

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You’re ESPER Keigo’s designated Guide. How you landed that role is beyond you, given that you’re a B-class to his S-class. But things work out fine, despite the discrepancy in your abilities. He hangs out in your office a lot more than you think his supervisors appreciate, but it’s not like you have any other business to take care of. All you have to do is be available to service your ESPER whenever he wants, otherwise you’re free to screw around to your hearts content.

You do feel a little bad for the other Guides who still have 10-20 clients each, so when you catch a friend from your old department letting an ESPER know she won’t be able to see him today because her schedules full, you chime in to offer a bit of help.

That is, until Keigo steps between you two, silent, dark (when did he even get here?), grabbing your hand and pulling you into the cover of his wings.

“That’s not a part of the deal,” he tells you, voice eerily chipper for how tightly he’s clinging to you. “Our contract is exclusive, remember?”

“It’s just one guiding, Keigo,” you return, exhasperated. “It’ll take ten minutes, tops.”

You can tell he’s displeased that you’re fighting him on this. He releases you, turning and striding back down the hall. Toward your office.

“Do it if you want me to kill him,” he calls over his shoulder. “Now c’mon, I’ve been feeling a little sluggish this morning. I think it’s time for a session. Alone.”

#guideverse #tw yandere #full yandere #he would for real too #well maybe not if his supervisor told him no #however #he is EXTREMELY possessive over you and pulled a whole bunch of strings to get your contract #he wants you to leave the company altogether and become his personal guide (and live in his house and never leave)#but the benefits are good at your current company so you keep telling him no #(also you don’t yet know how crazy he is about you <3)#guideverse works so well as a bnha au how did I never realize :0 #they can all keep their quirks AND there’s an excuse for reader inserts in-world

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willowser · 10 months

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the idea of ua teacher bakugou honestly makes me so sad, because you have to consider the possibility of him not making it to the end as a hero which !! is heart-breaking !!

but at the same time — there is something really cathartic i think about him growing up and growing out of measuring his worth by being number one, by being the best. and i like to think of him as a grumpy professor !! a bit like aizawa !! or him keeping a close eye on the shy, quiet students, watching out for them and always there to bully them (affectionate) along their path . or for him to be an all might to someone, a young kid that looked up to dynamight in his hay-day, now getting to follow directly under his lead.

#so sweet 🥺#i think he'd be a good teacher #he's learned so much already from his relationship with deku #going from a lil bully to realizing his mistakes #to knowing you have to work as a team with your other heroes and that you cant do it all on your own #that being number one isnt everything #that you'll never grow if you think you're too good to learn from anyone else #i think his relationship with aizawa and jeanist would really help him in that aspect #and whenever he does something cool with his quirk all his students get all crazy excited and it makes him all 😏😏😏😏😎#still makes him feel good lol #also bakugou in his unbuttoned white shirt with a loose tie and some glasses sitting in the teacher's lounge #coming up on him by surprise PHEW #HELLO SIR #okay bye #maybe will write something for him one day #blast from the past: hiatus q #edit to say: i wrote this in january and just found it in my drafts 🥺🥺🥺🥺#✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou

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puppyguppy · 5 months

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You’re coherent – for the moment.

At least, you think you are. Which, you suppose, confirms the suspicion. The theory. Since you’re thinking in general. Lucidly so, and about something other than – emptyheatdeepneedfilledtouchtouchtouch –

You’re still warm, you still ache, and your head and insides still throb with the same pulse of your heart. Your head feels heavy. You’re sweating, and shaking still, but it feels like the crash of a fever. Something you’re familiar with, at least, at last. Your fingers and toes hurt from flexing and curling so much, into the sheets and into themselves. And you’re still so - so wet. In places you shouldn’t be, at least not naturally; not that any of this is natural, technically. Just some fucked up side effects from a quirk. Despite how saliva pools thick and copious between your tongue and teeth, your throat feels dry. Parched. Unsatisfied. Denied, like a desert is sometimes denied the promise of a monsoon. Not that you’d been promised anything.

Nothing more than your safety and security, anyway.

Which was actually pretty amazing. More than what most people would end up with in the same situation as you. More than what you could’ve ever expected. After all, it’s not like you’re dying, even if you feel like you are. Like you will. Not like, right now, not in this sudden, blissful second of reprieve, but. Soon. Soon. Especially if you don’t get something more than some easily eaten food and fitful sleep and sponge baths. They’d told you that the quirk could wear off anywhere between three to seven days. That that was the average, though some sweat it out quicker than others. You’re not sure what day it is. Or if it’s even been a day. Of course, there was an ‘antidote’. A so-called ‘cure’ for the quirk. A ‘remedy’. A quick fix. But, not for you. Because you are single. Single, and currently under the constant, careful watch of a Pro-Hero that’d been dubbed as one with the strongest self-control. And damn-near nonexistent sex-drive. Which was, you know. Fine. Great, even. For him. And really none of your business under any other circumstances. But. You’d been hit by a quirk that more or less sends you spiralling into a horny, hazy heat like some stray street cat. Basically, you just really want some dick. Need some dick. And, supposedly, said dick would fix you right up – if you could just get it. Alas.

They considered you too dangerous to be left on your own. Since you’re single and all. They figured that if they just dropped your ass back at your apartment that you might do something you’d later regret. Which was fair. You couldn’t consent, not confidently, not completely. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, this stupid quirk also, apparently, changes your biology. So, no matter what bits someone may or may not be rockin’, they could still end up…pregnant. And you definitely didn’t want to get pregnant. Don’t. Don’t want to get pregnant. So, you are grateful. For now. For the food and the water (when you can get it down), and the sponge baths and safe place to sleep. Since that’d also been a worry, what with how hard the quirk hit you; they’d been worried you wouldn’t be able to take care of yourself while rolling through the waves. They’d been right. You’d probably be dead by now, were it not for them. Were it not for him. The Pro-Hero taking care of you. The one with unshakable self-restraint and a below zero libido. Supposedly. And long, dark, fluffy looking hair. Dark eyes, darker circles under those eyes, the shadow of stubble across his jaw…broad shoulders but lean muscles, more hair on his forearms and dusting down his knuckles, long thick fingers that only ever touch you through the filter of damp, cool fabric. Or, well, you think – maybe, maybe you remember him holding you up by the back of your head, or tilting your chin up, while you ate and drank, but it’s hard to say. You could’ve made that up. It could’ve been just one of many, many fantasies muddling your brain. Even now, they linger just on the outskirts of your thoughts, lapping at them like white noise but red. Like the Indian Ocean’s lowtide, just waiting for the right moment to swell again and drown you.

It’s crazy to think about, while you can. There are so many heroes, and yet, only one has been deemed safe enough to take care of you. As if any other wouldn’t, or couldn’t. As if it might be too much; the sight of you, the sound of you, the scent of you – whining and moaning, and writhing and crying, begging. Like they might take advantage of you, how much you think you want it, how much you think you need it, how you just might forget it. You don’t think you’re that irresistible, even under an influence such as this. Are heroes just that desperate? That greedy? Some of them, obviously. Yeah. Of course. But not this guy. Not Aizawa, who feeds you jelly pouches and bone broth, and wipes you down between fits and naps. Not Shouta, who stays an appropriate, responsible distance away from you unless absolutely necessary, and murmurs soothing nothings to you through the worst of your haze, your hunger.

The ceiling above you is some shade of grey. As are the walls, and the bedset you’ve almost melted your way through. None of them are the same shade of grey, but the lack of color is oddly relaxing. It reminds you of overcast, of rain. Of a thunder outside of your head. You crave the cold drizzle of raindrops down your spine, the chilly whisper of words along your neck, the prickle of gooseflesh beneath a blooming bruise sucked spit-soaked into your skin and left to cool. Your stomach muscles quiver, and your next inhale is a bit of a soft choke, airways slightly suffocated by spit. It’s your body warning you; you’ve waded too close to the riptide again, and you’ve got no other choice but to get dragged under. You know you won’t actually drown. You know you won’t die, even if you don’t get dicked down. And yet, something akin to fear still spikes through your chest. You’re alone, and you don’t want to be alone, you’re empty, and it hurts, you want, you need, please, please – “Please - !” “Hey,” you’re not alone. Fingers skim through the perspiration over your forehead, four of them, like sturdy logs that create a liferaft out of the back of a hand. You’re floating again, breathing again, even if all the hero’s done is prolong the inevitable. “How’re you feeling?” He asks, and while he pulls his hand away, you catch the glint of your sweat on his skin, like dewy branches in the morning. Fleetingly, filthily, you wonder what would make them snap. What would make him snap. If anything at all, could it possibly be something like you? Someone like you? How’re you feeling? “I thought heroes were supposed to help people.”

You’re pouting. You’re pissy, though that’d been unbeknownst to you until this very moment. You’d been – well. Better. Ish. Before Aizawa had started asking dumb questions. Like, how are you feeling? Like, how are you supposed to answer that?

Aizawa heaves a sigh from where he stands at the bedside, arms crossed and shoulders slouched. He looked tired. More tired than when you'd met him. He’s not always in the room with you, but is he sleeping when he's not?

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He tries again, with the patience and forgiveness of a saint.

Yes? No? Maybe?

You're not sure.

So instead, you ask, “How long has it been?”

He blinks at you, as if startled by the question, and maybe that’s a reasonable reaction if this is the sanest you've sounded in –

“Four days, just about.”

Fuck.

So, this shit could wear off any time now. Hopefully sooner rather than later. Maybe it already is. Maybe that's why you can just barely keep up a decent conversation with the man. You hadn’t been lucky enough for three days, but maybe you won't have to make it through five. Hell, it’d probably be over now, if Aizawa just – your stomach clenches again, and this time, so do your fingers and toes. It's pleasure-pain, it's hot but hollow, and you have to force the sound from your throat into words through gritted teeth.

“I’m close,” you warn him, like you might warn a partner that you're close to cumming. But you're not. Instead, it's coming, coming towards you with all the heat and weight of a steam engine. The blare of the horn is loud between your ears, harmonising with the desperation of your own scream. You pant in time with the rhythm of wheels over the tracks; the same tracks you're tied to, squirming against iron and rope. Of course, the train isn't real, but you are tied up. Bound to the bed by something between a ribbon and a rope. It squeezes you tight, just on the wrong side of right, just like your insides could be squeezing –

“Enough.”

He growls loud and low, and it rumbles through to your core like the color of the ceiling had cracked, while white streaks across your vision, blinding like lightning. You try to look at him, but it's hard to focus through the growing storm. Through the confusion and desire howling through your head, opposing winds of hot and cold – you need to get under. Under something, someone, safe – you need the tornado chased out from inside of you, forced out, you need the eye of your storm calmed with cock – it's ridiculous, humiliating, and the last shred of your sanity rips away with the sound of tearing fabric.

Aizawa is no longer standing by the bed, but sitting on it. He’s looming over you, shoulders visibly rising and falling with the exertion of his breaths. Like it's suddenly hard for him to breathe, too. His hair obscures his eyes, the way it falls into his face, but his lips are parted. One hand is braced beside you, caving in the mattress, and the other is -

is wrapped around the handle of a knife.

The blade of that knife, however, is plunged deep into the layers of the mattress, sheets creased right up against the hilt. His grip is white-knucked, and you should be scared. You should wonder where that knife came from, worry about what it is doing here, but. The only thing you feel is jealousy; the bed getting filled instead of you. And you’d settle for that blade right about now, because it'd be better than nothing. Better than your own fingers, and you wouldn't even care where it goes. Your throat, your chest, your stomach – between your eyes, between your ribs, between your legs. Your blood is just as wet as the rest of you. If you can't sweat this damn quirk out, and he won't fuck it out, maybe at least you can bleed it out. The quirk made you horny like a cat. It didn't grant you the nine lives of one.

You tip your head back and moan like the neglected animal you are(n’t). Your eyes sting with the salt of sweat and tears. Wordlessly, you beg for that blade. Plead for him to plunge it inside of you, something surely much more satisfying than a mattress. When he starts to untie you, you think yes, yes, finally. His hands shake, his limbs like branches bending against the strength of your storm, and you realise –

He’s affected.

It shoots through you like a wildfire, and your heart stops, stomach drops, before you roll. Right onto your side, then your stomach, ass up. You're naked, have been since day one, but you haven't really considered that until now. And by considering it, you appreciate it, in pleased passing because it makes for easier access, and your brain purrs over the natural, animal state of it. In this position, fill me turns into breed me, and he’s…he’s off the bed and across the room again. You're alone again, all alone and empty, sharing the bed with a stupid knife. You’re crying, frustrated and damn near delirious, nuzzling your face into a pillow as if you can rub the quirk out that way. You can’t. And he won’t. But…you lift your head and peek at that blade through a bleary eye. Your body then moves on its own, guided by each silent syllable of thought in your brain, and before you're even fully aware of it, not that you're really aware of anything right now, you’re poised above that blade. Up on your knees, thighs spread and shaking, you’re dripping; and again, before you slowly sink yourself down onto the handle, you wonder if this will make him snap. It settles inside you lukewarm and stiff, but easy, and you clench around it like a cat’s teeth in a canary's neck. It's yours now. Your knife. And you have every intent to ride it for all it's worth, until you collapse and pass out, but before you get the chance, everything stills.

It leaves you reeling.

You almost topple over, but brace yourself with a hand against the bed. The abrupt silence within yourself leaves your ears ringing. You can't believe it – you don't believe it. That it's all over, just like that. You're still shaking, still panting. Still sore, and still seated on the handle of a knife, but you feel…fine? You blink, and then you sniffle a little, before finally looking around you, and –

“You with me?”

Aizawa's hair is standing up on end, and his eyes are glowing. Red, red, just like the color you've been feeling. It's like he's looking through you, inside of you, and it makes you shiver. You're not sure what's happening, or how his hair is doing that – moving, but you nod.

“Good. This is my quirk. I haven't used it on you yet because it only works as long as I don't blink, and I didn't want to tease you with it. I can't completely erase the quirk’s side effects, but I can momentarily ease them. Do you understand?”

You nod again, but your gut twists with a little bit of anger. You understand, but you wish he would've done this sooner. Like, maybe before you decided a knife made a decent enough dildo.

“Okay. I'm going to have to blink soon, but before I do – would you like to ride something better than my knife?”

Your eyes widen as, for the first time in days, you finally feel shame again. A blush burns all the way down to your toes.

“With the quirk’s effects currently paused, I’ll consider whatever answer you give me to be coherent. And consensual, depending.”

You should just say yes. You don't need to say yes, you know you don't. But, you want to say yes, even now, with a mostly clear head. But, you don’t say yes.

You say, “Do you want me to ride something better than your knife?”

His voice doesn't crack, it snaps. Like a twig beneath a hunter’s boot, eyes glued to his prey. His hair flutters back down around his face, leaves returning to a tree.

You hold still, hold your breath.

And wait to be shot.

“Please.”

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #gender neutral reader #aizawa #regrettably based on yet another tiktok #quirk accident #sex quirk #dubcon #dubious consent #inappropriate use of a knife #kinda went crazy with the purple prose here

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pinkvaquita · 3 months

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Listen, I'm not saying that deep down Shadow Milk is still a bit of a dork. All I'm saying is once you make him blush, is over for him. Not only because is almost impossible to win him in his mind games, but because a part of him stills goes crazy with what he would call: "hillarious silly emotions"

oh how he hates those hillarious silly emotions-, it makes him remeber that he wasn't a total asshole all his life

#listen i need to find a way to cope with my insanity for this man #and if for that I have to make hc after hc about him and his little quirks and manerism. then so be it #and you would have to watch me go crazy about him #anyways. shadow milk kicking his legs and internally screaming like a teenage girl #and then realizes what he is doing and pretends it didn't happen #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #shadow milk cookie

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