ARCHIVED

[kenuis]

𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚

༊*·˚ 29 ༊*·˚latina ༊*·˚ brat

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝐁𝐘𝐅. ⋆·˚ ༘ *𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬. ⋆·˚ ༘ *𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋆·˚ ༘ * Selfships

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ NSFW and Dark Content friendly. ˚⋅ꪆৎ •｡ᡣ𐭩

𐀔˖ ִֶָ𓂃 Multi Fandom 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

all work is property of @kenuis do not repost anywhere.

[kenuis]

pops in very late and briefly to let you guys know this blog is officially archived! I love all of you stinkies.

[kenuis]

pops in very late and briefly to let you guys know this blog is officially archived! I love all of you stinkies.

[kenuis]

pops in very late and briefly to let you guys know this blog is officially archived! I love all of you stinkies.

[kenuis]

Also while I was gone I got a comm from @twilightakiishi and let me say she fucking KILLED IT. White haired wakasa just hits so different

[kenuis]

I miss it here.

[kenuis]

hi im popping in again, wow life has been very full and crazy but I am grateful for it. gonna usher in a new era soon. <333

[evergreen-endo]

the first time virgin endo feels you squeeze around his fingers he cums in his pants.

he has you sat between his legs and has been playing with your clit for what feels like an hour. an arm wrapped around your waist, one dipped between your legs, nose nestled into the side of your neck to bite and kiss and listen to all the sweet sounds you make.

when you tell him you can’t take it anymore, need him inside, he coos and teases like he’s hot shit, but you can’t see the way his eyes roll back into his skull with the press of his middle finger inside of you. you’re so warm and fluttering around the digit and you’re a bit too caught up in the relief of it to notice his cock twitching against your back.

he huffs and puffs against the column of your neck as your cunt clenches around his finger when he curls it up against that one spot, and you can’t ignore the warm feeling of his cum shooting out in spurts through the thin fabric of his sweatpants.

[varukaart]

You are..me?

[dynapuff]

Dragon King Bakugou speaks to your tummy the night he comes back from battle. He lies naked on the plush soft fur of your shared bed. His ear is pressed to the tight skin stretched over the swell of your belly.

He hums deep and growly in his chest, an ancient melody, one his father sung to him when he was young. The archaic psalm details a powerful king, one blessed by fire itself and the son he gave birth to.

Your husband places a red tinted hand over your belly and sings in high draconian the story of the Dragon King and the Morning Star.

His voice fills the intimate space of your bedroom, the fire seems to sway lazily with his voice. The shadows dance gracefully along the walls. As the tale ends, he kisses your belly and mutters something more familiar to your ears despite the ancient lost language.

My Son.

He lowers his voice as if telling him a secret.

“I poured all that is good in me into your mother’s womb to make you. You will burn bright like your parents before you. Fire, Sun, and Star.”

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Full look at Hanma's birthday outfit, his new card art and his birthday sign!

[aryomengrande]

kabukicho’s infamous reaper; happy birthday, shuji hanma !⎛ |⎝ 𓌹 •̀ᵥ·̫ᵥ•́ 𓌺 ⎠| ⎞

[mintmatcha]

you ask bakugo about "his other bitches" and he has a category three meltdown over it

[katsukikitten]

So anyway then I baby trapped him

[tatakaeeren]

If Craziness was Vanilla and strawberry flavored

[theloveinc]

non-quirk/small town!au where pierced/tatted Dabi comes home from prison and is forced to work in Rei’s cute, quaint mom and pop shop off the side of endeavor’s farm🥺selling tea towels, perfume and fresh flowers !!

[theloveinc]

I’ve decided this might work in a beach town too…. surfer!au … Dabi eventually needing to give you cpr ….

[theloveinc]

(warning: I don’t name him but this is dabi, rest assured!!! suicidal ideation, slight regurgitation, not much but you know, etc.)

-

There’s someone new manning the register where you pick up your weekly bouquet of flowers.

The guy’s got this grown out, half black hair that sticks up every which way, the white roots underneath curling up much softer where he’s chopped it short for bangs. He’s got tattoos, over most of the skin you can see—his hands, under the sleeves of his cotton shirt, neck creeping all the way up to his ears and jaw, and even his feet, where otherwise, his toenails are painted black, sticking out of the oldest pair of Jerusalem B.C. 11’s you’ve ever seen. He’s got all these piercings, also: through his chin, cheeks, nose and ears, probably elsewhere, too, if you were to think of it; all silver, all shiny, all new, like the jewelry is fresh from a shop.

And by the way he’s staring at you (pointedly, petulantly, with a snarl on his lips like a dog bracing for some sort of attack), you must not have said what he was expecting you to say when you first walked up to pay.

It’s true that you wouldn’t’ve expected someone of his type to be running the shop where it’s usually beautiful, silver haired Rei Todoroki or one of her children at the counter…but it’s not like you actually care some punk got the job instead of some other well off teenager from this town. It’s honestly hardly any of your business what the Todoroki wife does when everyone already loathes the fact she stays with her husband; you wouldn’t be surprised if this were another thing the kids did just to piss the guy off: hire a delinquent to sell his flowers and his homemade, elegantly boxed up soap.

You set the flowers down on the counter, petals in reds, yellows, and lilacs. He raises an eyebrow.

“Just these, please.”

He moves to plug the numbers manually into the old till, and the total pops up in green. Then he stares you down.

“1500 yen.”

You stare right back at him.

“That’s 300 yen too much. A bouquet this size should be 1200.”

He sneers.

“You telling me my own prices?”

“Rei’s prices.”

His thin eyebrows shoot up, then come back down in a bitter annoyance. He bears his teeth.

“She changed them.”

You’ve been coming here nearly twice a week for what could only be the past two years. Every Saturday for flowers to decorate your apartment with, and every Wednesday for your boss at the motel, to pick up hand soap refills and candles by the only company in your town that has any relevance to the world, Ranch Endeavor. By this point, you know Rei and her kids as well as you know any and every friend you have here in this town. You’ve run errands for her and dropped off pie for the youngest son more times than you can count.

“She wouldn’t.”

You both leave it at that for the better half of the next minute, just staring one another down, until finally, begrudgingly, he clears the register and reenters the correct balance, 1200 yen, still in green, which you pay with an exaggerated frown and then a huff, when he (sloppily, might you add) starts to wrap the stems in navy blue paper instead of white.

-

You see the man from the shop again when you find yourself returning to consciousness at the feeling of him slapping the hell out of your back.

You barely process it’s him at first: you’re too busy coughing up a lung to register who exactly’s got your swimsuit by the straps, your throat stinging with the salty combination of icy seawater and warm, thin mucus that floods your mouth, threatening to spill over your lips and onto… everywhere.

You’re on your back, clearly having been dragged like a sack of potatoes from the water to the sand, and are barely able to take one giant heave of a breath before—

“You fuckin’ dumb or what?” a man spits in a voice you only barely recognize but don’t a name to place.

(You only remember his hair, the smear of his tattoos, and the twist of his lips when turned to walk out of the store. You can still smell Rei’s perfume, the salty musk that lingers in the decorative tapestries and calligraphy ink that she sells, hinted with smoke.)

You do your best to shrug despite the lag the wet sand clinging to you causes, trying to gulp in as much oxygen as you possibly can, as if you’d been starved of it before, as if it were something that you wanted, or missed, even.

“Getting sucked into a rip?” he sucks his teeth. “You cannot be serious.”

You don’t open your eyes to check his expression.

“Why’d you save me?”

Again, you must not have said what he was expecting you to say, because there’s a longer pause than you think is necessary for the type of man he most likely is and the type of question you definitely asked.

He barks out a laugh.

“You’re joking?”

You shake your head, finally trying to look at him at least so you can glare…even if it doesn’t look like much given your eyes are already swollen out of your head and stinging in the setting sunlight.

“Mom’s been worried about you.”

You’re not sure what he means—mom? Whose mom?Your family’s all the way back home, and you don’t think you know this guy beyond how far one interaction gets you. Maybe in your attempt to…get swept away by the current, you somehow woke up in another body on another planet, and there’s a whole new life waiting for you once you’re able to walk off this shore.

It’s a nice idea, almost as nice as the thought of not actually being awake at all, and instead being somewhere like heaven. Unfortunately, however, you have a feeling you recognize your chipping toenail polish.

You don’t think your confusion is all that obvious, though, until he’s clarifying.

“Rei. Mom. From the shop. You haven’t been in all month.”

That’s right, you think. I stopped buying flowers. I quit my job.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. Because that’s all you can say in your post-failed-suicide attempt. He must be another one of her kids. You didn’t know there was a fourth. “I guess you can tell her you found me.”

“I wasn’t looking,” he responds.

“You pulled me up.”

“I had to.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” he says. Then, as he moves to stand up, stumbling to find footing on the wet dunes, “actually? Screw this. I’m leaving, ungrateful pest.”

And he leaves you there on the sand. Breathless and alone, lungs still full of salt, but alive.

[aransmind]

they want to play a game...