eebbapanda1

[eebbapanda1]

dating shinsou would feel so fucking solid - like you would never doubt that man's interest in you. not once. even when you're having a meltdown in his arms or howling with rage, like - he's there. he's gonna continue to be there.

he doesn't think you're too much; fuck, he's so in tune with every move you make that he's anticipating what you need before you even need it. dude is the type of guy to lock in with a partner and not let them go.

(plus the way his palm always sits right at the small of your back so he can slide between your shoulder blades to collar the back of your neck when you're getting overwhelmed out in public. like *topples over*)

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i’m consumed with the idea of bakugou thinking he lost his marbles when he fell for you because he keeps questioning himself like. is it mentally okay that he wants to spend time with you? how creepy is it that thinks about asking you out? why does he like your laugh so much? how inappropriate would it be if he bought you your favorite drink? you’d probably kill him if he did that.

and it’s all just the most basic and normal reactions to liking someone romantically, but the way his heart feels so warm and full when he thinks of you makes him think he should be institutionalized lolol.

[eebbapanda1]

also in this neighbour au, there’s a silly misunderstanding that keeps you and bakugou from dating. you tell him one day that you usually have a hard time expressing yourself to other people, which might make you come off as cold, rude, etc, but he makes you feel comfortable and talking to him is always such a pleasant time.

bakugou unfortunately thinks you’ve read through him and are now kindly friendzoning him, to his utter despair, while you think “hell yeah, now he knows i want him. time to lie and wait >:)”

so for like a month you can invite him to your house and practically be naked right in front of him and he’ll think it means nothing even though it’s frying his brain to be that close to you.

[eebbapanda1]

anyway. onto better things

[eebbapanda1]

18+ - older roommate! aizawa *barks*

you've only been aizawa's roommate for a couple months, but it's long enough to develop an absurd crush on him. he mostly keeps to himself, although lately he's taken to bringing you extra blankets when you fall asleep on the couch watching atla re-runs.

personally, you find it impossible to ignore him. he's broad and gruff and just manly in a way that makes your thighs press together whenever you see his chest hair poking out of his sleep shirt.

(the first time you saw the happy trail ducking into his sweatpants, you waited for him to leave for work before fucking yourself on the thickest dildo you own. you saw the outline of his cock; you know he's hung.)

the only saving grace of working your thankless job is that you can work remote, which usually leads to late nights hunched over the desk, blearily sorting data in cells.

just like how it is tonight, music blasting in your ears and an excel spreadsheet four inches away from your nose.

a hand falls on your shoulder.

flinging your headphones off, you whirl around to see aizawa backing away from you with his hands held up in surrender. he points at his ear. "your music will blow out your eardrums."

god, he's such a fucking dad sometimes.

(you do not let that thought linger longer than it has to.)

your voice comes out squeaky. "you scared me half to death!"

his lips quirk up, and fuck him for still being devastatingly handsome when he looks bone tired. "i should have announced myself. you okay?"

you rub your neck, one eye on the computer. "yeah, i'm fine."

aizawa zeroes in on the movement. "does your neck hurt?"

you can't help laughing. "i'm wound tight as a drum, so it's kind of par for the course."

he steps forward. "where does it hurt?"

"ummm..." your brain short-circuits. "sort of around here?" you gesture vaguely between your shoulder blades. "it's always the worst at the end of the day."

"turn around for me real quick, y/n."

you obey, and immediately, strong fingers sink into the muscles on either side of your neck. you shiver in his grasp at the unbelievable relief in tension.

"feel good?"

he's joking, right?

you manage a nod as he continues to work out the knots along your spine. "it feels really good."

he says nothing in reply, just keeps working the delicate muscles in your neck and shoulders until you're practically as loose as melted wax.

(later, when you've gone to bed, aizawa finally unbuckles his pants and releases his cock, flushed red and sticky with pre-cum and so sensitive to the touch that the second his palm slides over the shaft, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to distract himself from cumming all over his belly)

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[eebbapanda1]

hii !! looove your roommate aizawa post

just wanted to add with a thought of like — imagine this MAN getting jealous over the idea of you going on a business casual dinner with your colleagues

his daring eyes when seeing you all dolled up and pretty — making his head spin when you ask for his opinion on how you look. giving him a little twirl before leaving the shared apartment and just urueueueuue anyways love your blog, just finished reading through your mha stuff <3

omg I’m having an aneurysm thinking about this

---

“so…” you trail off. “what do you think?”

what does he think?

what does he think?

he thinks that you look so fucking cute in your miniskirt and sandals and some flimsy top that shows off a sliver of skin every time you shift—so what he thinks is what he wants, which is to tongue the sliver of skin along your tummy until you're giggling and squirming underneath him; what he thinks is that you look far too fuckable to leave the house to go see a bunch of coworkers who are probably little more than boys—

"ummm." you mistake the silence for disapproval. "yikes. it can't be that bad, can it?"

aizawa can't believe he's thinking like a fucking teenager, seething with jealousy. you're going to a dinner, for fuck's sake.

and you're not even his to worry about.

but he can't stand that you look uncertain now because all of his blood rushed south (fuck, what would you even think about some pervy old man checking you out), so he says without thinking, "it looks great, sweetheart. you look gorgeous."

you let out a breath really quickly, eyes wide.

"that's good," you say, and your voice is squeaky and too-bright. "well, bye!"

and then you bolt out the door, leaving aizawa to flounder in his "mistake" while you sprint to tell your friends what he called you

[eebbapanda1]

Add realism to your fantasy stories by having characters from different backgrounds struggle to pronounce each others' names.

"My name is [low guttural sound] but I don't want to hear you butcher it. So you may call me She Who Arises With The Cold Mountain Sun."

"...Is that what your name really means? All that in just one word?"

"Yes. If you stress the wrong syllable it comes out as 'She Who Coldly Wakes Up The Mountain Sun', or 'The Cold Woman Who Wakes The Mountain Sun', and you will not call me that."

"Oh, huh. Could we just call you Mountain Sun, for short?"

"Hmh. It's boastful, almost bordering on blasphemy, but it is flattering. I accept it."

[eebbapanda1]

[eebbapanda1]

A fantasy story starting with the protagonist minding her own business gathering firewood, when a demon appears out of nowhere announcing that she belongs to him now. The protagonist demands to know on what grounds, she's never signed no damn contract. The demon is kind of baffled by this, and awkwardly explains that just now her father had promised his firstborn for something, and she is his firstborn.

The protagonist digs her heels in and says no, she never knew her biological father and by the way the demon explained the situation, evidently her father also doesn't know that he already has a daughter, so therefore the man who had made no contribution to her life after he bred and fled has no claim to her as something he could barter.

Not giving a shit about the fact she's gambling her life in doing so, the protagonist makes contact with the local woodland fae, asking them to negotiate on her side. The fae think that this is fucking hilarious and go with her. So, having lawyered up and with a reluctant demon in tow, the protagonist heads off on a quest to find her father and do whatever it takes to wrangle everyone involved into unmaking the contract.

[eebbapanda1]

Sometimes it feels like you've lived your whole life in a house that's always a little bit on fire. Like it's usually just in one room and you make sure to wet the walls around it so it doesn't spread and that usually works. You were expected to take more responsibility over fire containment when you were like seven because it's not like you can expect your parents to always be 100% on guard about making sure the whole house doesn't catch fire, and you figure that's just how things are like.

And sometimes as a kid you visit your friends' homes and some of then whisper to you - grimacing with embarrassment - about how they're not supposed to tell anyone this, but there's a whole room in their house that's currently on fire. And you're like yeah it's ok I'm not supposed to tell people about the way our house is a little bit on fire all the time, too. And then you visit some other friend's house and there's no trace of fire anywhere, and you think "wow, these people are really good at hiding their house fire."

And one day you show up to work like "hey sorry I'm late, I forgot to wet the walls before going to bed last night and my whole house burned down", and you're startled by the way people react, acting like that must be the worst thing that has ever happened to you. And you're just like "chill, it's been years since the last time this happened, and it wasn't even that bad this time", and that just makes people more shocked, acting like that's the weirdest and most concerning thing they've ever heard anyone say, which only confuses you more.

And then someone tries to explain to you that people aren't supposed to have an ongoing house fire. Most people actually never experience a house fire in their lives. Like not even once. Not even a little bit. The normal amount of having your house be currently on fire is zero.

[eebbapanda1]

[eebbapanda1]

Emo Toshinori the night before one of the most important finals during finals week, save me😭

Note, he does not help out with Japanese no matter how much I remind him of his heritage and how nice and kind and superhero it would be of him to remind me what in the fuck the kanji for parliament is

Don't expect much more from me until this week is over, I'm so drained, it's insane

[eebbapanda1]

The Babies 💖

Still a WIP but getting there to the backgrounds. I needed a break from my other works for something less serious. Pretty much a base.

[eebbapanda1]

fuuuuck i just realized that the future idealized version of myself cant exist without current me being the catalyst for change and doing hard things. has anybody heard about this

[eebbapanda1]

“Emotional abuse works like this: You are screamed at, and then, not knowing any better, you stand up for yourself. You think this is a way of being strong. You think this is a defense tactic.But this only provokes more screaming. Going silent provokes more screaming too, but usually it keeps the threats to the minimum. It keeps it just at screaming and not: a shove down the stairs, or order to pack your stuff and get out. So you learn how to go silent. How to play dead. How to cry without making a noise. How to swallow noise. How to wipe your cheeks, get out of the car, and go about your day. You learn. And when the screaming has stopped, when the two of you are in the car or out to dinner and they’re all smiles, all asking for favors, all questions, you are still hurt and annoyed and want to ask them, how? How can you speak to me like that? How can you pretend you did not say those things? How can you have forgotten? But you’ve learned. So you listen to, “Can I borrow your key”s and “how was your day”s and you play dead. You swallow the noise. And sometimes it doesn’t matter who is speaking to you, it doesn’t matter if they’re a friend, it doesn’t matter if their criticism is constructive, it doesn’t matter. You’ve learned. Any sort of speaking, any raising of the voice, any insult and you play dead.”

— Good Girl, Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)

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