fuck it, i never ever do those “reblog for X, this one really works!” posts, but this one doesn’t have any of that BS, this is just straight up wishing us good things; and then the comment doesn’t even say any of that either. Zero claims on this post, all positive vibes
May you end this week feeling ever more certain of a future you’ll love
hello denizens of the internet! whether you’re friend, fan, foe or ambivalent to my presence: i have spent the last few months technically homeless. (don’t worry too much! i have a roof over my head.)
but even though the generosity of my current housing patrons has extended my stay, i still want to honor our original agreement of my stay being limited to august 31st.
and i am, to put it bluntly, poor!
i already have a full time job, which does cover the majority of things, but i am still relying on the state to help with food and healthcare & my job is a 30-minute commute from the place i'm staying (about a gallon of gas a day). finding an apartment where i am currently living has been a 6+ month long struggle (mostly due to roommate issues, not me). so... yeah. that’s where y’all come in!
to be very clear: i am not asking for donations. i am willing to do services for extra money. i write, i draw, i even do tarot. so if you’re willing to throw me some coin, my dms are open! if not, a reblog helps immensely. ALSO, I'M SO SORRY: I HATE E-BEGGING/SELF ADVERTISING AS MUCH AS Y'ALL HATE SEEING IT. CHEERS.
hello denizens of the internet! whether you’re friend, fan, foe or ambivalent to my presence: i have spent the last few months technically homeless. (don’t worry too much! i have a roof over my head.)
but even though the generosity of my current housing patrons has extended my stay, i still want to honor our original agreement of my stay being limited to august 31st.
and i am, to put it bluntly, poor!
i already have a full time job, which does cover the majority of things, but i am still relying on the state to help with food and healthcare & my job is a 30-minute commute from the place i'm staying (about a gallon of gas a day). finding an apartment where i am currently living has been a 6+ month long struggle (mostly due to roommate issues, not me). so... yeah. that’s where y’all come in!
to be very clear: i am not asking for donations. i am willing to do services for extra money. i write, i draw, i even do tarot. so if you’re willing to throw me some coin, my dms are open! if not, a reblog helps immensely. ALSO, I'M SO SORRY: I HATE E-BEGGING/SELF ADVERTISING AS MUCH AS Y'ALL HATE SEEING IT. CHEERS.
hey everyone i’m here to do my monthly e-begging since i don’t have a job!!!! ((/sarcasm if you couldn’t tell))
i have to pay rent/utilities by march 5th,, i also need money to buy groceries. rent alone is $515 and this is what my bank account is looking like at the moment… yeah.. not too hot.
i offer various divination services here and i just recently started my mini apothecary services here!! i can do multiple readings for the price of one and i can give a discount if you purchase more than one apothecary/spell working item as well :)
i have p*yp*l, v*nmo, and c*sh*pp
please share this post!! anything helps,,i’m super appreciative of everyone who likes/reblogs. i’m sorry i have to make posts like this often, i’m just stuck in this gross cycle until someone hires me full time.
summary - after you die and deku comes to collect your soul he takes personal responsibility for you.
cws - monsterfucking light, he's got horns and a long tongue and is 7 feet tall, sleeps in a nest, collects souls ready to pass on. reader is dead, she's been murdered by her abusive boyfriend, but the story picks up after she's passed. breeding, deku's a gentle dom, huge cock,, uhhh yeah honestly this is pretty soft,
MINORS DNI - please have an age in your bio to interact with this fic.
It’s not that he liked his job, Deku reminds himself as he feels the tugging towards another soul ready for departure, it’s that he feels a sense of duty. He was a shepherd, to most of the people he visited, death was a kindness, a release, and he was sure, already leaping over rooftops, his tattered black cloak dragging behind him, that you would be no different. Like most people, you barely notice his figure darkening the doorway, but oh you poor thing, you can barely move.
“Ohh,” he can’t help it, the sympathetic sound pouring from his lips, what a helpless little human, “So many broken bones,” he muses in a soft coo, squatting beside you. You’re leaned up against the wall of an empty apartment, blood trickling down the side of your face. You let out a little breath, and when he rests his hand on your shoulder the pain dissipates. “I haven’t seen one this bad in a while,” he says, and you gasp in shock, looking up at the dark figure that suddenly appeared next to you.
He was tall, and broad, with a tangle of dark green curls that matched his glittering verdant irises, a smattering of freckles across his nose. He reaches a scarred hand out to you, and you take it, bursting into tears as he pulls you to your feet.
“I’m sorry,” you choke out, “I’m sorry you probably deal with this all the time.” Your voice is softer than he expects, little more than the whistle of a teakettle. He wraps his arms around you, folding your body into his warm chest.
“Actually,” He says, “Most people are angry.” The lump in your throat only grows as the hot tears spill down your face. “They want more time, another chance, and I can’t give it to them.”
“I-I-I’m ready to go,” you blubber, “I’m so t-tired, and everything hurts.” He rubs comforting patterns into your back.
“Let’s take a second,” he says, looking down at the top of your head. “It’s alright, no more pain where we’re headed, okay?” You only cry harder.
“I never,” you sniff and look up at him, “I never had a chance.” He moves one of his hands higher, tangling it in your hair, a question he never asks on his lips.
“Who did this to you?” He says, and you turn around to glance at your body but he catches your chin with a kind smile. “Better not look, hm?” You nod
“W-we could go to my kitchen?” You hiccup and he lets you lead him forward.
“I can make you tea.” He says, opening the cabinet with your mugs in it on the first try.
“Death can make tea?” You ask, and he nods without turning around.
“I’m not death.” He clarifies. “I work for death.” He turns the stove on, filling a teapot with water and looking over his shoulder at you. “I asked who did this to you?”
“M-my boyfriend.” You mumble. “No matter how hard I t-tried, he was never happy with me, and when I tried to leave,” You tremble, unable to finish the sentence.
“No,” Deku coos at you with surprise, as if he hadn’t heard this story a million times before, as if this was new information, “Sweetheart, that’s not love, you deserved to be loved.” You nod slowly, your eyes burning with fresh tears, and the need to comfort you nearly overtakes him.
“No one else wanted me.” You press your lips together. “I never had a chance at all.” Deku takes a box of tea down from the cabinet and inspects you carefully, your skin in the moonlight, your red-rimmed eyes.
“You don’t have questions for me?” He looks over his shoulder at you and you shake your head. “You know it’s not true that no one else wanted you.” He says, sitting down next to you at your kitchen table. “You’re very beautiful, so I’m sure that’s not true.” You sniff.
“Thank you.” You say, and he reaches over and brushes some hair out of your face, his hands ghosting your skin and then returning to his side.
“Tell me what happened?” He murmurs, “I have time.” You swallow, and nod.
“He, he came home, and he was drunk.” Dekus eyes never leave yours while you’re speaking, “And he was upset, about, about something, maybe sports, maybe me. He wanted me to have sex with him, and I didn’t want to, I just, I didn’t feel like it.” Deku gets up, takes the kettle off the stove, and pours the boiling water, setting the steeping tea in front of you with a soft thump. You touch it, half expecting your hands to go through the ceramic, but they don’t.
“This isn’t your fault.” He says, joining you.
“You didn’t make yourself tea?” You ask, eyes widening a little.
“I don’t really, eat.” He explains. “You won’t either, when we leave.”
“Where are we going?” You ask, cupping the mug in your hands, it’s warm on your cool skin. He thinks about it before responding.
“The next phase of existence, it’s different for everyone.” He stops himself, closing his eyes, “I’m, I’m sorry, you’re not,” he swallows, “You shouldn’t be, you shouldn’t be okay with this,” the pain is evident in his voice, “You should be fighting me, you should be kicking and screaming, you should be begging for a chance at revenge!” You take a long slow breath in, lower lip trembling.
“I know this isn’t what you meant,” You mumble, throat tight, “But what I heard was that I can’t even die correctly.” You bury your face in your hands. “Can we just, can we go, to whatever’s next?”
“No!” He says, scandalized. “No, we can’t.” He takes your hand and pulls you out of your chair, “There had to be things that you always wanted to do?” You wipe one of your eyes. You’d had dreams once, maybe as a child, in those limited golden-tinged memories, you’d had things you’d sworn to do before this, the most human of inevitabilities.
“I can’t think of anything.” You whisper, and he shakes his head.
“Sure you can, is there a place you thought of going?” You think about it hard, at one of the jobs you’d had, at one point, your life was already blurring together, one of your co-workers had a
“Um, I guess I wanted to see Venice?” He yanks you down the hallway, and out into the summer drizzle. “What the hell are you doing?” He doesn’t answer, pulling you up into the clouds, you’re not flying exactly, there’s hardly any movement, except the turn of the planet beneath him. “Hey,” you try to get his attention hanging from his forearm as you move higher into the sky. He holds his posture, but you dangle like a christmas ornament, “Hey,” you say again, louder, and with a soft grunt he lifts you, holding you to his chest while he flies, wrapping his cloak around your body. After a few seconds, you’re flying over an ocean, moonlight sparkling on the dark waters, clinging to him, shivering in the cold.
“We’re obviously going to Venice,” He says, a touch of frustration in his voice. “I want you to see, something, something you can mourn, you need to. It’s human, it’s healthy.” You look up at him.
“Why are you so concerned?”
“It’s part of my job.” He says, “To guide humans. To take them to the places they need to go. And I decided you and I go to Venice, now.” You wrap your arms around his neck and feel his hands on your waist. As you touch down on the cobblestones, the moon is high, glittering on the canal. He leads you down the street, people don’t stop to look at you, you gather after he walks straight through a lampost, because they can’t see you. You’ve been walking for a few minutes, he doesn’t let go of your hand. You look down at it, his nails are varnished black, the fingers long and thick. Everything about him is big, you realize, even more so on the tiny Eurpean streets.
“Am I dreaming?” You wonder out loud, and he looks down at you.
“No.” He confirms. “Does this help, though, being here?” You sigh, shivering, the air is cool and wet. You swallow.
“I don’t know.”
“I could get you ice cream.” He says, a touch of desperation to his tone.
“I had a dream, once.” You say, so softly, he has to lean in to hear you at all. “I wanted him to love me.” You breathe the last word, “I want him to touch me softly, because,” you gesture around the piazza, remembering that it was the honeymoon in your co-workers photo and not the sinking city you’d longed for, “I wanted a real love.” Your lip trembles. “And I’m never going to get it.” The tears fall again. “No one ever touched me softly,” you look up and meet his eyes, his face is completely unreadable, “And I’ll never know what that’s like.” You gesture weakly. “This is pretty but, when the people go, it’s just stone, and water, and spores.” You look at the lichen climbing up the side of the fountain. “And now I’m dead.” He swallows and looks down at you.
“I’m not sure how to fix that.” he admits. “I don’t usually do this.”
“Take someone’s soul to Italy before you take them on?” You sniff, wiping your face. “I’m sorry I think, I just want it all to be over.” Deku presses his lips together and frowns before speaking again, a touch of childish desperation creeping into his voice.
“It’s just that, the little parts of being alive are so fascinating to me,” he giggles at the thought, “Did you know some humans, when they date, take pictures of each other, and make it their little um, their phone screen?” You nod. “And I’ve seen,” he keeps chattering excitedly, I’ve seen them ah,” he stops himself, searching for the word, “Do this thing, where they’re lying down together, and they kinda fit their bodies into each other?”
“Spooning?” You offer, and he beams.
“IS that what it’s called?” He fidgets, and you can see his long dark nails, more like talons in the darkness. He was so excited, so sweet.
“Um, I could, if you want I could show you, more of the things humans do when they’re in love?” He brightens, and when he smiles, the hood of his cloak falls off his head. In the dark moonlight, you can seek the skeleton underneath his skin, underneath the human glamour part of him.
“Oh, sorry.” he says, jerking the cloak over his head again, his ‘humanity’ restored. “I would, I would like that though.” He takes your hand. “Like, this, did I do this right, when I was comforting you, I’ve seen movies I-”
“This is fine.” You say, giving him a tiny encouraging smile that just cuts all the way through his chest. “But isn’t it better like this?” You carefully interlace your fingers with his. His hand is cold to the touch, but his face warms, a long breath escaping from his chest.
“Oh,” he says, “Yes it feels, so much closer?” You squeeze his hand, and he gets redder.
“You were good, ah, especially when you um,” You step into his personal space again and bury your face in his chest, he nods, understanding, cupping the back of your head in his free hand.
“Like this?” He asks, and you can feel the rumble of his voice from his chest.
“Yes,” you sigh, a little more warmth to the sound. “It helped.”
“What else,” he says, the desperation back in his voice, “Please I want, I want to understand better, for the people I guide.” You nod into him.
“You could lean down, and kiss the top of my head.” He follows your orders, his mouth lingering on your scalp, inhaling your scent. You smell like cigarette smoke, and vanilla perfume. “And I would do this,” You breathe, wrapping your free arm around his waist, and going to wrest your other hand from his but when you pull at it, his grip tightens, and an animalistic snarl rips from his chest. You jump and gasp with fear but apologies are spilling from his lips immediately.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he says, “I just, I guess, I’m feeling protective, I want to keep holding your hand, please, ah,” you look up at him, his face is so genuinely contrite it breaks your heart, “May I please keep holding it?”
“Ah, yes.” You say, and he smiles at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Can we keep walking?” You ask, and he nods. The two of you stroll through the streets of Venice at night, and the temperature drops considerably as the moon gets higher. You’re standing at the dock, looking out at the ocean, when you start genuinely trembling, and he speaks again, handsome face contorted with concern.
“Ah, are you cold?”
“Y-yes.” You choke out, still in only the tank top and pajama shorts you’d died in.
“I can um, I can give you my cloak if you don’t mind that i’ll look less human.” He offers, and you shrug.
“I can’t imagine that after all that,” you remember your crumpled form, the black spots appearing on your vision as your boyfriend stumbled out of the room, so drunk he was blind to what he’d done, “That I looked human.”
“No, I suppose not so much.” he says, remembering a scene from a movie he’d watched on a day off, taking your chin in his hand roughly, then jumping back and releasing it, “Sorry, I wanted to touch you, but I, I did that wrong?” You nod quickly, and he looks sheepish, reaching back and touching his own neck. “Sorry.” He repeats.
“No it’s alright,” You say, taking his hands and arranging them on your face so that he’s cupping it, his thumbs resting on the top of your cheeks. “Like this.” He strokes your skin for a moment, lost in the high planes of your face reflecting in the moonlight, the only sound the water lapping the dock you're standing on, the boats nudging each other. But then another shiver runs up your spine, and he practically rips off his cloak, draping it around your shoulders, bending down so that he can properly arrange it on your shoulders. In the bright silver moonlight, he stretches into a truer form. He’s a little hunched, and much closer to seven feet than six. There are two white bony horns peeking out of his green hair, and his canines are long and sharp in a distinctly inhuman way. In the direct moonlight, you can see right through his skin. But other than that, he’s built like a man, the largest man you’ve ever seen, but a man nonetheless.
“Wow,” you stammer, drawing his cloak around you. He laughs.
“You’re not afraid?” He asks, and your mind flashes to the fear you knew in your life, the way you’d come to jump at loud noises, the way just the scent of whiskey could send you into a tailspin, and you shake your head.
“I’ve seen worse.” You say softly, and he nods, understanding.
“Ah.” He offers you his hand, now with long talons at the end. You take it, and he carefully, painstakingly interlaces your fingers. “Can I,” he starts, and then you watch him stop himself, second guess, and then barrel forward, “Can I, what I mean, is that,” he pauses, struggling for the right words. “I would like to, to kiss you, if I can.” Your eyes widen.
“Oh!”
“I mean, not if, not if you don’t-”
“No it’s just-”
“It’s totally okay,” he flashes his palms at you, “I get it if you-”
“I want to.” You cut him off again, and he looks at you, shock coloring his handsome features. “I just um,” you look around, “I know no one can see us, but I’d prefer if we could go somewhere um, private?” He nods, squeezing your hand.
“My place?”
“You have a place?” You ask, as he lifts you back up into the air, and you watch the moonlight glitter on the dark ocean.
“My shift’s been over for a bit.” He explains, a little guilt creeping into his expression. “We work for three weeks about, your time. You were my last job.”
“Oh.” Something twinges in your gut. “Can I ask you something?” You look down, Venice is tiny below you, nearly disappearing into the sea. “What ah, what are you?”
“I serve death.” He explains, lifting you easily so that you’re cradled against his chest, swaddled like a baby. “In all of their forms, as the raven queen, as the devil, as the moon, whatever form you’ve given them.” He shifts you a little so that your head is resting on his pectoral. “You might call me ah, a demon, I suppose, but that comes with such a negative connotation.”
“What should I call you, then?” He glances down at you, it’s incredible to him, how easy you’re taking this, how quickly you accepted death, how you don’t seem to be afraid of him, it feels, dreamlike.
“Call me Izuku.” He says as you break through a huge white cloud. The world around you blurs and suddenly you’re not flowing up, but down, down towards a ground that looks like a rocky mountainside. “It’s a reflection,” he explains, seeing the look on your face, “Sometimes when you’re looking in the mirror and you see something behind you, you are seeing us.”
“Izuku,” you say, and oh god his given name on your lips is heavenly, so sweet and short, a cooing, breathy sound. His mouth goes dry as he lands on the dirt path, leading to the mouth of a cave. “Is this allowed, I don’t want you to get in trouble.” He stretches a little, setting you on the ground, you’d have to go back, eventually, he thinks, but there was a way, a way to ensure you’d be his forever.
“They might notice, in a century, that you didn’t report to where you’re going.” He yawns. “But it’s so kind of you to care.” He leads you to the mouth of the cave, which has a huge nest of blankets and twigs, the occasional moss accent softening a corner. Flickering torches hang on the walls, creating long dancing shadows on the floor. He helps you into the nest, lifting your body up and over the lip of it so that you slide to the soft bottom, then leaping into it after you. It’s cozy and much less fragile than it looks,
“I like this,” you breathe, startling even yourself at how, right it feels to be here. He blushes a deep crimson.
“You like my nest?”
“It seems,” you shift your weight a little, “It seems sturdy.” Warmth spreads across his chest.
“Thank you.” You’re sitting cross-legged on the blankets, with him kneeling in front of you. “Where do I um, how do I start?” he asks, and you take his huge hands guiding them so that one of them rests on your waist, and the other is cupping your cheek.
“Now press your lips to mine,” you say, eyes wide and kind, full of the most beautiful innocence - god he was going to - “Softly, at first.” You instruct, speaking the words almost into his mouth. “And you can use your hands to move me where you want me.” His hand on your waist tightens, digging into the softness of your skin there as he leans farther forward, experiencing the gentle ecstasy of closeness. Your body is warm, so warm compared to him, he can’t help it, he wants more, using his leverage to push his tongue between your lips, guiding you down on your back so that he can feel every curve, every contour of you against him. It’s been so long, he works so hard, and there are so many intricacies to your anatomy, so many places he can press his lips to make more music spill from your mouth. Where he’s hard and cold, you’re plush and warm, and the little gasp you make when he accidentally grazes his teeth against your lower lip practically sets him on fire, a low growl ripping from his chest. You tug on his hair, guiding him from your mouth to the crook of your neck, pulling another hiccupping gasp from your lips.
“I-izuku,” you choke out, it feels good, his tongue long and rough on your skin, but, “It’s o-okay, you can touch me,” another sound rumbles from him, somehow even more feral, as both of his hands move up to palm your chest, rutting his hips desperately against yours.
“Want you, gotta get your ready for me,” he growls, “Please, fuck, I need-”
“It’s okay,” you breathe, more sure of this than anything in your life, “I want you, I want you, I can handle it.” He pulls off of you, face flushed, heart racing, as he rips your pajama shorts off of you and dives between your legs. It’s like he’s sucked the air from your lungs, bright lights exploding behind your eyes as he presses his nose against your clit and slides his long tongue into your core. “Mmmmm,” He groans, rolling his hips against the ground, roughly taking your thighs in a bruising grip as you writhe with pleasure, the vibrations of his voice only sending you higher.
“‘Zuku,” you choke out, as he laps at you greedily, “Feels, feels so good.” He growls into your warmth again, pressing himself deeper into you. You tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his movements against you, he lets you set the rhythm but any time you try and squirm away from him, any time the pleasure becomes too much, he locks his arms around you tighter, holding you in place. You meet his gaze, eye narrowed and intense.
“Mine,” he says, before slipping a finger inside of you. You keen at that alone, the possessive undercurrent to his voice making your face hot and mouth dry. “Mine,” he says again, knuckle deep inside you, pressing against your velvet walls as you gasp and mewl. “Say it.” He demands, his demeanor completely different. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m,” you swallow, he curls his one finger inside of you and your back is practically forced into an arch, pleasure building, the hot coil in your stomach growing tighter. “I’m yours, I’m yours, Izuku,” you cry out over the lewd squelch of his finger inside you. He adds a second one, scissoring them inside you, and he marvels at the way it sends a shudder throughout your entire body, you just can’t stay still for him, even yelping when he sinks his teeth into the soft skin at your hips, delighting in the way you’ve completely come undone at his touch. He can feel his cock straining against his pants, with every wanton moan that escapes your lips, it gets harder, desperate for some kind of friction, to replace his fingers in your warm, wet, cunt.
“Fuck,” you choke out, looking at him again, soft eyes glistening with tears, and somewhere inside of him, a damn breaks. With a feral grunt, he takes you roughly by the waist and lifts you in the air, flopping on his back as he positions you above his crotch, watching your eyes widen with fear as he pulls his length out from his pants. He’s huge underneath you, shoulders wide and flat, his shirt sticking to his sweaty abdomen. You reach for it, tugging it over his head and leaning back, bracing your hands against his hips, raking your eyes down his scarred muscle to the trail of green hair leading to the largest cock you’ve ever seen, purpled with need and curving slightly.
“C’mon,” he growls, “C’mon baby, take it, you can do it.” You swallow, heart thrumming as you sink down, your walls stretching taking even the head of him. “That’s it,” he says, dark eyes glittering, as you let out a soft whine.
“S-so big, ‘Zuku,” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel a light slap on your thigh,
“Look at me,” He says, “Focus on me,” You lower your hips a little more, your mouth dropping open as the stretch starts with a sharp pain that melts into pleasure. He sits up a little, taking your thighs in his hands, kneading at them before pressing another kiss to your lips. “Take it baby, you can take it,” he says, as you keep sinking lower, your eyes completely losing focus as your soft walls flutter around him.
“Ah,” you moan, biting down on your lower lip, you’re still only about halfway. It’s not just that it’s the longest cock you’ve ever seen, it’s wide, and there’s so much space between your hips and that tuft of green hair at his hilt.
“Look at me,” He says again, authority seeping into his tone, and you obey, shivering with pleasure, “Look at me,” you nod, “You’re gonna take my cock, angel, alright, like a good girl, and then I’m gonna make you feel so good no one else is ever gonna matter,” you nod, and keep going, ignoring the stretch, tuning everything out but his loud groans.
“‘Z-zuku,” you mumble, trying not to break eye contact with him.
“No one else,” he says, his voice dark, his eyes narrow and possessive, “‘M gonna ruin you for anyone else.” You roll your hips a little as you finally, finally take all of him, settling down on top of him as you feel every inch, every vein, pulsing, so hot inside you.
“So f-full,” you breathe, reaching for him and instinctively, he holds your hand, just like you taught him.
“What a good girl,” he coos, and watches you preen at the praise, squeezing your hand, “Ready for me to move, baby, ‘m gonna fuck you so good baby,” You whimper, and he sits up eyes wide with concern. “Is it too much I-”
“I want you to kiss me,” you mumble, embarrassed at your desire for intimacy, but he beams at you before crashing his lips against yours at the same time as he thrusts his length inside you, letting you moan into his open mouth, not letting go of your hand as he slowly begins moving inside you. You collapse into his chest and he takes it in stride, burying his face in your neck, biting down on your soft flesh, as the pleasure overtakes him.
“So good,” he chokes out, moving you up and down his cock, feeling your walls flutter and squish around him, “Such a good girl, baby,” he breathes, “F-fuck, takin’ all of me, so good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he snarls the last word, slamming into you hard, eliciting a sharp keen from your lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from the way you’re stretching to accommodate him, watching his cock disappear between your soaking folds, groaning loudly at the way you squeeze around him.
“More,” you beg, holding his hand more tightly, “More please, ‘Zuku, I can take it.”
“Fuck yes you can,” He breathes, picking up the pace, fucking you harder, letting you completely relax against his chest as he thrusts upward into you, watching your chest bounce with every roll of his hips, lifting your head up so that he can kiss you sloppily again as he feels himself scrape against your walls. “Fuck yes,” he repeats, speaking into your mouth, refusing to let go of your hand,
“Can I,” you stop speaking as a particularly hard snap of his hips against your sucks the wind from your lungs, “Can I cum?” He blinks up at you, the idea of it registering, and then whatever self-control he’d been holding on to dissipates. He flips you on your back without pulling out and pins both of your hands next to your head as he fucks you into oblivion.
“Cum for me,” He snarls, “Cum for me, I want it, I wanna feel you cum on my cock, baby come on,” you writhe underneath him, completely lost in the sensation the coil in your stomach hot and tight, you’re teetering on the edge of your high as he leans down and speaks in your ear, his breath on your neck, “I said,” he growls, voice completely different, dark and threatening, “Cum for me.” It’s like you’ve been shoved off a cliff, you clench down on him hard, losing complete control of your limbs and your mind, babbling praise as he carries you through your orgasm. He chases his own high, thrusts sporadic, in time with short low grunts, as he explodes inside of you, staying hard with the single-minded thought of getting his cum as deep within your cunt as possible, of marking your womb and your body as his.
“Mine,” he says, over and over as he watches you unravel, your tongue lolling as your orgasm rips through your body, noticing the marks he’d littered on your neck and chest, the bite marks and bruises making him somehow even harder. It’s a few minutes, before he finally stops cumming, collapsing on top of you, still not releasing your hand. He crushes you against his chest, wrapping himself in blankets as you come down, finally pulling out of your pussy with a soft groan.
“Izuku,” you breathe, still barely present. “Izuku, am I,” you swallow, “Is this, ah,” you pause, catching your breath but he presses a single finger to your lips.
“Shhh,” he breathes, “You’re mine, baby, all mine, nothing bad, is ever going to happen to you, ever again.” You lift your head sleepily.
“Yours?”
“Mine.” He confirms and feels you relax against him. He watches you drift off to sleep, stroking your hair, peppering your face with kisses, whispering praise. After all, his hands brush your stomach, if you weren’t pregnant yet he’d just have to try harder next time.
“I’m not asking your permission,” he says quietly, nestling you in his lap, “But just so you know, I’m going to kill your boyfriend.” You blink up at him, brain still operating at 1%.
“Really?” You breathe, eventually, and he nods.
“Yeah.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” You snuggle against him, sleepy, fucked out, in a demon's nest, about to fall asleep against his chest when he speaks again. “And you’re gonna give me the sweetest babies,” he coos, and your blood turns to ice, nerves overtaking you.
“What?” You ask, suddenly wide awake, staring up at him. He just nods.
“I don’t know much about romance,” he says, with a sheepish shrug, “But I do know you’re gonna be so beautiful,” you feel his lips on your neck, “Carrying my babies.” You swallow, remembering your mother, doing everything on her own, barely present.
“Y-you’ll help me, right?” You beg, and he pulls away from you, scandalized.
“Of course!” His eyes widen. “Of course, I will.” You close your eyes, putting the cold darkness of your human lift behind you, wrapping your arms around your demon's neck.
“Alright, then,” you wrap your legs around his body. “I’ll be yours, Izuku.” He pets your head, “Can we sleep?” He pulls you down into his pile of blankets, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, nestling you against his chest, and the only sound in the cave is his soft, even breath, and the crackling of the flames of the torches affixed to the wall. “Oh wait,” you sit up, and his heart breaks into a sprint, he could stop you from leaving, from running but he’s not sure he can handle the idea of being rejected - “We could spoon, um, if you want?” There’s a moment, where he processes what you’re offering, letting him lie down on his side and lying down behind him. You hook your arms under his, pressing your chest against his back. “Do you feel safe?” You ask in the tiniest, sweetest voice, his heart shatters, his hands ache for you, but he answers simply, voice trembling as tears spring to his eyes.
“I think,” he says, “No one’s ever touched me softly either.” You bury your face in his neck. “Hmm,” you sigh sleepily. “I’ll teach you.” He swallows, nodding, and his next thought hits him like a train. God, was he going to make your boyfriend fucking suffer.
if you enjoyed this please consider reblogging/commenting. it really helps my reach - much more than liking will.
First time doing something with lineart. My style is usually on the semi-realistic side, so I still haven't found my style for more "simple" drawings and this is just an experiment I did >.<
the first and last time bakugou katsuki received a solid, heartfelt confession, he was twenty-three.
of course, people have certainly crushed on him—especially once he became a pro hero and made such a huge name for himself. it didn't help that he had the looks to rival a god's, his face and body all chiseled angles and features that pronounced the ruby glow of his eyes and ash-blond of his hair. anyone with eyes knew he was handsome as hell—the only problem was when he opened his dirty, dirty mouth.
that didn't stop people from coming up to him in an attempt to spill their feelings, though.
but katsuki was... well, katsuki. he wasn't fucking dumb—he might not know how to deal with his own emotions, but that didn't mean he was fucking oblivious. he could read a room—he was perceptive. he didn't have time for people's stupid feelings. he shut them down immediately—before they could even get out a single word—not paying them any attention as he scoffed and carried on with his thunderstorm of a life. he was a goddamn hero. he had people to save, villains to fight, battles to win.
all his fans liked him for his hero persona anyways—great explosion murder god dynamight, the one to call when the toughest villain wreaked havoc on the streets. the one who went into battle with a wicked grin on his smooth face. the one who emerged victorious every single time, fist raised in the air triumphantly.
they didn't like him for him—bakugou katsuki, the one who always sat quietly in a corner to observe the people around him. the one who loved to cook in the kitchen, carefully crafting meals with rough, calloused hands. the one who woke up at the dead of night, sweating, shaking, due to the ghosts that haunted his dreams—his nightmares.
katsuki ignored it all, powering through his life surefootedly as he focused on his job, his work. he didn't let anything distract him—throw him—from his course as he aimed high enough to brush against the clouds.
but when he got confessed to by someone he was close to—someone he hadn't realized he was harboring feelings for until they stood right before him—he found himself stumbling, tripping, for once in his life.
katsuki, with all his strengths and weaknesses, had never gotten a full, heartfelt confession before—not one told directly to his face, and certainly not one he wasn't able to quickly shut down before.
it came from you—pretty, little you—with your hands wringing together as you nervously spilled out everything you liked about him. his confidence, his consideration, his sarcasm—fuck, his dumbass humor. you liked him for him, for katsuki, flaws and all. for his scars, for his fears. for the stupid fucking laugh he made, all raspy and grating. you touched his heart. you touched his soul.
and katsuki didn't know how to react.
how could he? he had never allowed himself to be put in this kind of situation before. he was shocked into silence, a flush crawling up his neck as he stood there and stared at you. his brain felt like it was short-circuiting, his throat was parched, his hands felt sweaty.
he was an asshole, yes, but he wasn't so much of one to not feel how sincere you were being. how hopeful you were as you looked up at him and told him it was fine if he didn't reciprocate. it was fine if he broke your heart—because of course you were selfless like that.
but katsuki wanted so badly to open his mouth and tell you he felt the same. he wanted so badly to give you a confession in return that ripped open his heart for you to see all that it had within. but he couldn't. he couldn't.
katsuki cared. he cared and he cared and he cared so much on the inside that he couldn't find the words to express it. he couldn't let himself be so fucking vulnerable, too afraid of what would happen. for all the strength he had, he couldn't open his mouth to tell you the words you deserved to hear.
so he gripped you by the shoulders. and he kissed you like his life depended on it—like you were the only thing that could keep him from drowning in the emotions he had no idea how to deal with after so many years of denying others and ignoring anything other than his work, his duties.
and he could only hope that you wouldn't leave his heart bleeding at his feet.
Well i do have a request! Can you please make a og form sukuna x reader getting married? just pure fluff please! I saw your latest post hehe so i decided to send a request!
Thank you for such a request that makes my heart flutter while writing it up and I do apologize for how long it took to get this written up and done.
I looked up some traditional Japanese wedding traditions and given how Sukuna is tied to the Buddhist religion it just kind of flowed. I also feel he would be very traditional but in his own way of course.
Again I will always be open to Requests and I absolutely loved writing and re-reading this.
The King of curses is of course very particular and he just has to make the reader all his. So I hope I have done justice to daddy Kuna.
Pure Fluff between Reader and Original Form Sukuna <3
✧ Word Count: 2k
✧ Word Explanations:
Wagasa-Traditional paper Umbrella used in Japanese culture
Secular Wedding- it is a wedding ceremony that is “free”. It has no legal or religious value, however. it is a wedding ceremony, which is primarily based on the wishes of the bridal pair Aka What Sukuna wants, Sukuna gets in his own way.
Kakeshita Kimono- The kakeshita is a wedding kimono with a slightly padded hem. The bride can either wear a colorful kakeshita, or a all white kakeshita called a shiro kakeshita.
The day had finally come, your heart was pounding in your chest, butterflies were doing cartwheels in your stomach.
Carefully the heavy weighted fabric of a kimono was placed over your shoulders as diligent fingertips worked the layers out.
Not a crease or accidental fold to be seen
Looking into the mirror, you watched yourself become almost transformed into someone you almost didn't quiet recognize
Today is the day
You keep reminding yourself.
It has to be perfect
You repeat non stop.
" You shouldn't be stressing" a calm voice reminds you
Turning your head to the side, you glance a look at Uraume and gently smile. They had been so helpful with planning and helping you with the traditional values of marriage it was almost hard to believe that both of you had gotten off the wrong foot so many years ago.
Who started what, you couldn't remember but you had always clashed heads, Uraume and yourself. And it was always over who was the most loyalist to him, to Sukuna.
The King of curses.
Now it seemed both Uraume and yourself had become a team, friends in a lot of ways.
So to you it only seemed appropriate that it should be Uruame helping you into your wedding kimono.
Like a best friend assigned such a significant task as this.
" Sorry" with a sweet smile you turn back to the mirror and stretch your arms out.
Earlier you had bathed in beautiful hot water, oils and cleansed every inch of your body. The scent of lavender and rosemary lingered on your skin.
Your hair is so perfectly done up and adorned with beautiful decorations, smelled of sweet argan oil and mint.
With all the layers to the kimono you truly felt the weight of the fabric upon you. Even so, it was beautiful. A kakeshita kimono with a soft white and blue flower pattern.
Resembling not just a white and brightly coloured kimono, but one so similar to Sukunas.
Even the sash Obi to be placed upon you was a deep blue like that of Sukunas.
It seemed bright in its colours but it reminded you of Sukuna in so many ways.
" Don't move" Uruame muttered as they lifted up the fabric of the obi sash and placed it gently around your stomach.
done up in the back in a beautiful and traditional bow, it pulled the kimono in defining your waist and chest area all the more.
Your heart skipped a beat as you gazed upon yourself This was the sign it was almost time, time to become a Ryomen.
All that was needed now was to enter Sukuna's personal shrine where the king of curses himself would be awaiting you.
Were you afraid? No not in the slightest, more so nervous as you folded your hands In front of you, allowing the sleeves of the kimono to perfectly sit by your side.
You are perfect.
You mentally say to yourself.
Your hair was perfectly done in a traditional Japanese style bun. Your features are beautiful and illuminating with only small makeup on your lips and eyes in traditional Japanese style.
You blushed looking at yourself. So noble in appearance, you fluster a little. So traditional you mentally remark. Fit for the king himself.
On such a day it had to be perfect, you had to be perfect. It was a dream come true to marry the King of curses. Sukuna had chosen you above all others and that meant something.
Not just to yourself but to everyone that would come to know you as a Ryomen too.
Gesturing to follow, Uraume lead the way outside and into the courtyard. Snow littering the ground.
As your feet touched the ground, hearing the crunch of ice beneath, you could feel the tension within you.
So close now.
Closer than you were five minutes ago.
Everything had been perfectly orchestrated by Sukuna. A secular Buddhist wedding in traditional Japanese style. It was still traditional but wasn't your typical white wedding.
Everything held symbolism towards Sukuna and his title.
The sound of drums and chanting echoed throughout the area. Monks remained within their places, for this wedding even they did not have the right to enter Sukuna's personal shrine. Only chant and rejoice in their ways of your union.
Sukuna was particular; he wanted it to be special, just you and him. Maybe a little possessive too but you admired that.
With a wagasa(umbrella) in hand, Uraume raised the brightly red wagasa over your head to shield you from the snowflakes that gently danced down to the ground.
Most royal or noble weddings involved groups of people, family, that would lead you to the shrine to await your soon to be husband. Sukuna could have allowed the monks to take that place, to polish the path before your feet.
Yet he did not. Only Uraume was worthy enough to be the servant to do so. Hearing the chanting of the monks was enough for you.
It wasn't that the wedding was a secret. For many far and wide in villages and cities would hear about the one who took Sukunas heart.
To become a Ryomen and serve by his side.
With a deep icy breath in, you followed the path that whined down toward the shrine. Garden beds remained still in flower despite the cold.
Sukuna loved winter, he loved to watch the snowfall each year. So there was no surprise he ensured everything during this time of year remained resilient against the snow and cold climate. It was his idea to marry in this season and you didn't blame him either. All the more reason to wear so much layering to your kimono as you gracefully walked. Almost like millions of people were watching.
Approaching the shrine, the outside walls were adorned with banners showing Sukunas symbol which gently drifted in the faint breeze that blew by.
Just before the arch way of the temple entrance, Uruame stopped. From here on you would enter. Only you.
That was Sukuna's command as you looked upon the arch way and drew in a deep breath as you stepped within. Almost like entering into another world.
If anything was obvious it was that Sukuna wanted you all to himself. No one could look at you let alone touch you. Only his most trusted servant, Uraume was permitted with any sort of task revolving around you and your cares.
Perhaps that was why Sukuna was so hasty to marry you. To quickly make you all his. Instantly you blushed at the thought as you stepped into the inner courtyard of the shrine.
There was a small path that led further to the inside where Sukuna awaited. Your heart drummed to an unknown beat as you looked up towards the area.
Eyes big and wide in awe of the structure, how the snow fell over the building but also the fact Sukuna was so nearby.
If anything, you also wanted to be all Sukuna's. You wanted the world to know you belonged to him and him alone. If another man was to look at you, you would glare daggers in their direction.
Both Sukuna's heart and your own were aligned as one and the same.
Graceful steps down the pathway led you into the sanctum of the temple where you felt the bathe of warmth. The aroma scent of incense over filled the air as smoke trailed off the burning sticks and upwards towards the shrines ceiling of the temple.
Hunched over in a bowing position, Sukuna remained with head bowed towards the temple altar. Not a monk priest or person was in sight.
Just Sukuna.
The man was a giant compared to you, but the size comparison between Sukuna and yourself kind of made you want to giggle. You liked it a lot, you also assumed so did Sukuna.
Bowing your head by his side, you kneeled carefully and bowed alongside Sukuna.
The smile on your face radiated, you just couldn't help it. Even the blush on your cheeks stood out, like a porcelain doll.
" Nervous?" Sukuna teased with that wicked smile on his face.
"No, you?" You jest back in a playful nature.
Only a faint chuckle from Sukuna told you that he was pleased. Pleased with the situation of your wedding and pleased with you by his side.
There was no temple priest, only Sukuna and yourself. How dare anyone look upon your beauty besides Sukuna. His possessive nature wasn't just adorable but comforting. You liked that a lot about Sukuna.
You felt secure, no one would dare bring harm to you without the wrath of Sukuna.
Tilting your head a little bit to glance. Either at Sukuna from the corner of your eye, you nodded while remaining silent.
Only Sukuna softly made a faint chuckle beneath his breath. His side eyes watching you. Already you wanted this distance between you over and done with. All you wanted was to hold him, to touch him. Gently store his face and plant kisses on his lips.
Sukuna loves how you paid so much attention to him. Such loving and caring nature. Even how you looked at him and smiled was comforting to him.
For a man, a king of curses, to finally be comforted by a woman so petite was rather pleasant to him.
If anything was known about Sukuna it was how he loved to be adored by others. Having you care for him, cook for him and even make love to him made the king of curses feel more godly.
For a moment you both remained in silence but in unison both of you sat up and looked ahead.
Normally a Monk would have been present, but Sukuna himself had ensured only his eyes were to be on you. There was no secrecy, only possessive.
Turning your head you looked to Sukuna as he looked to you. You swore up and down that there was a reddish hue in his cheeks. Never before had the king of curses married. Never before had he even allowed anyone of any gender to touch or care for him like you have.
You couldn't take your eyes off him. Even though he wore his traditional kimono, the blue scarf around his neck, Sukuna just seemed…different in a way.
" Y/n" Sukuna started off with " Under my regime I will promise to protect you, care for you and love you until my dying breath. Do you accept my eternal love?"
You could see it in his eyes, all four of them. Sukuna had the look of despair, as if afraid you might reject him or get cold feet suddenly.
Only your smile cheered him up as you gently nodded your head.
" Of course, my king, my love, my soul is eternally yours. I shall care and love you for all my life and again in the next life. " You leaned in and smiled as you spoke your words so sweetly and only audible to his ears.
Sukuna didn't hesitate as he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your lips. Yet this ceremony was far from over. Just one kiss and you wanted more, you could feel Sukuna wanted to hold you in all four of his arms but even he had to restrain himself. As he broke the kiss and looked into your eyes.
" It is with tradition that you be marked. Please give me your hand " so soft and gentle. One might say Sukuna spoke with respect as he held out one of his four arms towards you.
Gently you raised your hand and placed it in the hand of his much larger one, feeling the radiant warmth from his touch. Another one of his hands came across and with two clawed fingers he drew two lines across your wrists with the nails having dug into your skin ever so slightly.
A burning sensation scorched your skin as you winched a little but the pain faded fast. Where the faint marks were drawn from Sukuna’s nails, now visible to the whole world, had burnt into your skin a dark ink similar to Sukunas own two Tattoo wrists.
A binding vow to the Ryomen name, you smiled and looked up at Sukuna with pure joy in your eyes. Such a marking was to be honored as your face burnt a bright red.
Holding out his other hand, you raise your opposite and untouched hand which remains unmarked.
Much like before Sukuna drew two lines with his nails across your wrists which formed into two black lines over your wrists.
Now you were a Ryomen as you looked and examined both your wrists with delight and joy before returning your gaze back to Sukuna once more. Glee and happiness beaming off your face like the warm sunshine.
Marked by Sukuna was an honor that no others had ever had. The binding vow tattoos held far more significance than any other kind of marking made by Sukuna. You were his and his alone.
A gentle smile crossed Sukunas lips as he looked upon you, seeing you this happy made him feel far less murderous and more like his former human self. Having only faintly harmed you with a curse technique which imbued you with a binding vow of marriage, to see you this happy…
Well Sukuna had to admit that he rather enjoyed it, wanting to see you like this all the time. Harming you wasn't his true intentions, this was tradition. For a Ryomen even more so.
Carefully Sukuna took both your hands in his and raised them to his lips. Softly he kissed the tattooed area with such care and gentleness that it might seem alien to others.
But to you, and only you, had seen him so soft and caring. Like a gentle giant.
Leaning forward you plant a kiss atop his forehead and hear him softly hum. United in marriage, marked as Sukunas, what more could you ask.
Maybe a child? You jokingly thought.
Wrapping his other two arms around you, Sukuna pulled you in against him. His head resting atop yours, your face pressed against his chest.
You could hear it, the beating drum of his heart. You couldn't help but feel filled with such joy and happiness you thought you could never ever achieve until you met Sukuna.
Both of you were picture perfect.
The ideal couple.
Married to the king of curses.
What a strange delightful happiness that filled you as you sunk into his warmth and remained in his arms knowing that for all eternity you were his and he was yours.
fanfiction culture is when you don’t wanna tell people you write fanfic but you do want to talk about writing, so you just say, “oh yeah, sometimes I write little short stories here and there!”
