#x oc

[avocad0ess]

I wonder who I would be today if I didn’t develop an obsession with fanficion when I was 11

[polkadoli]

stop putting ur shitty ass oc in the x reader tag

[ghouljams]

it's just that you have the perfect look, exactly the kind of vibe that pornstar!ghost wants in a costar. innocent eyes, perfectly parted lips when you look up at him, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of the baby doll dress the producers put you in, his mouth waters, fingers itching to grip and grope. he wants to eat you alive.

"I'm excited to work with you," you tell him, voice like bells in his head. darkness starts to fuzz his vision, his zipper biting at his hardening cock.

"'m gonna rip you apart." He grunts.

"what?" your lips part wider and ghosts fist clench tight.

"dont fucking talk to me."

[clarkssqt]

[yummymatti]

Sometimes I have the URGE to read a fic where the reader is a sadistic manipulator, instead of being the manipulated, and their husband is a little bitch who is manipulated by them.

Sometimes I just want to humiliate men.

But definitely we need more disgusting reader

[mirapril]

when the author tags x reader when it’s really just their oc.

[daniieyy]

Katsuki Bakugou fetching up his wasted girlfriend

Being a hero is exhausting… especially when your crush just so happens to be the number five hero in the country. Add a little alcohol, some rambling, and a very impatient boyfriend, and… well, let’s just say things get messy.

Warnings: tipsy drinking, flustered/clingy Reader, romantic content, mild language.

“…it’s just so tiring that we have to keep walking during paaaatrooplll” you hiccuped.

Being a hero comes with its downside. You find to your heart that you enjoy saving people and seeing a smile plastered in your face but what you don’t like is the walking. The infuriating long walks during patrol.

“I mean…i grt it that its part of the job but….” How you wished you have something to lessen the walking. Maybe boots that can make you fly would help. You made sure to note that and go to the hero design works department of your agency tomorrow.

You were rambling and rambling with your friends. The bar you were in was noisy but you could’ve sworn a bunch of girls were yelling as soon as the door opened. You have been so through with the hero craze and you’ve been guessing a hot hero just came up.

“Wow…that’s some massive fan base he got there. Ah, he’s heading here” your friend at the agency said as she tapped you with your palm, signaling that you should look back as well.

“Huh..?”

And there he stood in front of you. The all-mighty, stubborn, infuriating, firecracker-of-a-hero, impossibly hot, annoyingly perfect, heart-stopping, soul-flipping, eye-crossing, why-is-he-even-real, too-handsome-to-exist, definitely-too-intimidating-but-I-can’t-look-away… Dynamight.

He’s arms where crossed as he look down to the shot bottle on your hand and then back to your figure. He was still in his winter hero costume which you so deeply love because you think it flexes more his muscles…whoops.

“Dynaaaamigh!” You said so wastingly he had an ick on his face. He was saying something to your friend which they come into terms and the next thing you know, you’re being carried be Katsuki Bakugo himself.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs crossing at his back. You were so embarrassed because he could’ve carried you on a more romantic way than being carried like a baby. You were about to complain but you couldn’t muster up the words you were supposed to say when the alcohol was kicking back 10x you could’ve imagine. You were never a strong drinker, in your defense.

“Dynamiiiighh..! I shuff tell you now that am drunk thag i haaaaaaave a huuuuuuuuuge crush on y—“ you hiccuped and let your head fall down on his neck. You could’ve sworn he smelled like caramel, something sweet and home-y. You smiled as you unknowingly plant a kiss on his neck.

“Dumbass. I’m your boyfriend.” He scoffed. You could’ve sworn he was smirking that little, impossible smirk—the one that made your stomach flip, equal parts exasperated and amused, like he was secretly loving every second of your drunk confession.

He leaned just a fraction closer, his nose brushing your hair, and you felt that warmth radiate through you, hiccups and all. “…I know,” you mumbled, face pressed against his neck, “…I-I know…” He shook his head, smirk never fading, and muttered lowly, almost to himself, “You’re ridiculous.”

You hiccuped again, letting out a tiny, shaky laugh. Your words were slurred, breath warm against his skin. You could feel your heart hammering, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as your tipsy courage bubbled up. “I just… wanna stay here, with you… forever…” you hiccuped as you nuzzled to him closer.

“Kats….”

“Hmm?”

“I want se—“

“Tempting but no”

“Mph...whyy nooooooot”

“Because you’re drunk and I love you.”