#bee.requests

[get-shiggy-with-it]

ALSO! Because we were talking about that beefy Natsuo pic the other day imagine him being a little shit and making reader fuck him in his dads home office (OR BED) and she’s shy and embarrassed over it but he’s just cooing down at you that it’s okay, you’re having fun right. And he DEFINITELY leaves evidence for daddy Enji— okay, okay now that is out of my head back to Bakugou😂😂😂

✧ pairing: Natsuo x afab!secretary!reader

✧ wc: 1.8k

✧ warnings: dubcon, office sex, references to exhibitionism, Natsuo talks about his dad a lot, Endeavor gets a lot of shit, mentions of 'daddy' but not in a hot way, Natsuo calls it cucking but it isn't really, 18+ MINORS DNI

✧ a/n: thanks for putting this in my brain jo, it wouldn't leave so here we go. Natsuo is 10000% sexier when he's hating on Endeavor and showing him how to properly fuck his hot secretary. I'm getting to bakugou I promise 💖

“Hey.”

Natsuo leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of the ornate record room and looked down his nose at you kneeling on the floor, surrounded by stacks of file folders.

“Hi, what can I—”

He cut you off quickly with a wave of his hand.

“You wanna help me piss off my dad?” he asked in the most matter of fact tone he could muster.

Watching Endeavor's little assistant pretend to gape at the mere mention of slandering the big boss man never got old. It took quite a lot of effort on Natsou’s part to stifle the laugh bubbling up from his chest at the mock pout on your lips. As if you haven’t been undermining his father for years. As if he hadn’t noticed all the conveniently missed appointments and conflictingly scheduled interviews.

As if he didn’t know why his father kept you around anyway.

“I don’t know why you’d think—”

“Oh really?” he kicked off the wall, sauntering over to stand right in front of where you knelt. “Can’t think of a single reason? Or was that last twitter scandal not you?”

A pause, then—

“It isn’t my fault he leaves his accounts logged in,” you shrugged and went back to sifting through manilla envelopes until Natsuo dropped to his knees next to you and held your wrist in his palm.

The whole thing was swallowed by the girth of his fist.

“No, I guess not,” he agreed, leaning closer and dropping his voice to a whisper. “But I think we could come up with something a bit more creative together, yeah?”

You looked hard into his eyes. That false look of polite professionalism had dropped entirely, leaving you with a thoughtful scowl, growing ever slowly up at the corners as the moments passed.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” you asked, eyes still skeptical but pretty lips pulled into a grin only inches from his.

Natsuo couldn’t help but match the expression with his own.

---

“Are you sure about this?”

He rolled his eyes, as he tugged you a bit harder along behind him.

“It’s a bit late for second thoughts don’t you think?” he shot over his shoulder he tugged open the door to his father’s office and tossed you inside.

You fixed him with a glare worthy of Endeavor himself.

“No, actually, I think we’re actually a bit too late in general,” you hissed, hands shoving pointlessly at the wall of his chest. “Your father’s meeting started half an hour ago!”

“And?”

Your eyes were saucer-wide and flaming like a certain someone’s ridiculous costume. Natsuo shifted slightly as his pants grew uncomfortably tighter.

Endeavor was a grade A asshole, but he did have good taste.

“And? And we barely have twenty minutes before he gets back—”

Natsuo’s hand crept up the small of your back, pulling your chests together as you fisted the fabric of his shirt in your hands, eyes flicking nervously at the door.

“And?” Natsuo groaned at the adorable little indignant shake of your head.

“What if he catches us?”

“Babe,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours and feeling the wave of excitement rushing straight to his dick when you shivered in his hold. “That’s kinda the point.”

“You’re not—”

With a grin and a flurry of movement, you were successfully silenced and laid out on your back across the expensive, mahogany desk top.

“C’mon,” he mumbled against your lips, which were definitely moving against his despite all your protesting. “How’s it gonna piss him off if he never knows?”

He didn’t get a response apart from another pointed glare and two deft hands tugging at the fastenings of his pants. While you busied yourself with freeing his cock from the confines of his underwear, Natsuo let himself drift into the moment a bit. Certainly this would be a wonderful dose of revenge against his father, but Endeavor wasn’t blind and neither was he. You’d caught his eye from the day you started trailing his dear daddy around like a very reluctant lap dog. It was gonna sting so sweet when he walked in to see your pussy dripping with—

“So do you finish that fast or what cause we’re on a bit of a time schedule here if that’d slipped your mind,” you mused, surging forward to bite at his lower lip, skirt already hiked up around your waist and panties hanging off one ankle.

“No,” he groaned, when you wrapped a loose fist around his length and pumped, spreading the beading precum at the tip to slick your way, “but you will.”

“Some bold claims you're making there.”

He suspected you had more to say, but the words died somewhere on their trip from your brain to your tongue which was currently occupied being twined around his own as he eased two fingers easily into your soaked folds and scissored them open.

God he couldn’t fucking wait to be buried in that.

Finders keepers Enji.

Natsuo smirked doubly at the thought and the way your eyes were rolling already into the back of your head as he added his thumb to the mix, rubbing little sloppy circles on your clit. He wondered if you put ‘prime cut pussy’ on your resume, and if you didn’t, you definitely should start.

“He’s gonna be so mad, you know?”

Slick was already dripping down his palm and squelching with every slow, hard roll of his fingers in your cunt. He pulled away a moment later—cause you were right, there was a bit of a time crunch to complete the mission—and grabbed your wrist to guide the tip of his dick against your folds.

“I think anyone would be if you fucked on their desk,” you grunted, head thumping against the paperwork piled underneath it and locking hazy eyes with him as his cock caught your entrance.

“Nah, I mean he gonna be so mad,” Natsuo grinned as he slammed his hips home in one thrust, overcome and twitching at the feeling of warm, wet, tight walls squeezing his cock, “Cause I’m fucking you here first.”

A bit like a child licking the last piece of fruit in the bowl, he gripped your hips tightly in his hands and fucked you on his cock—coating that pussy he knew Endeavor was simply dying to have with his cum. Staking a claim on the cute piece of ass, only made cuter by the smirk forming on your lips at the feeling of your combined juices dripping down onto the desktop.

“Care to—holy shit, you’re fucking huge—elaborate?” you moaned, hooking your legs over the curve of his ass and urging Natsuo deeper into your soaking cunt.

He huffed a laugh that broke off into a low groan when you clamped down around him just as the sensitive tip breached your walls again. And maybe it was just the adrenaline, the rush of knowing Endeavor was somewhere on the estate, walking his sorry wannabe cuck ass back to this office while Natsuo took the finish off his desk with how wet he’d gotten you—but fuck, it had never felt this good before.

Never felt like his whole body was burning with the fire contained somewhere in the tip of his dick. His head was light with lack of blood and the words that tumbled from him, unmitigated by inhibitions, were filthier than anything he’d ever generally be willing to say out loud.

“You gotta see the way that piece of shit looks at you,” he mumbled, watching enamored as your face contorted in pleasure when he angled his hips up and you bit hard down on the back of your fist to keep from screaming. “He wants to have this so bad—so fucking whipped and you won’t even fuck him.”

Natsuo chuckled again at the thought of how desperate Endeavor was that the sad asshole would keep you around despite how clear your opinions of him were. But now, having gotten a taste of what you hid under those stupid-short skirts, he couldn’t really blame him.

“He’d have you on your knees under his desk every second if you’d just look in his direction,” he grunted, releasing your hips in favor of caging you to the desk with his chest, frantically thrusting his aching cock into you, chasing a high he hadn’t thought possible. “You won’t, though. You wouldn’t touch him even if he paid you to do it, but you’re letting me. You’ll let me fuck you so good and fill you up cause I’m so much better than him.”

He’d heard of cock drunk, maybe that’s what this was. Pussy drunk on you in your skirt on his daddy’s desk and knowing you were both getting off on it.

Every creak of floorboards sounded like approaching footsteps and only served to make him impossibly harder, pulsing against your walls.

The way you looked up at him in the small space between your face and his, drove him swiftly over the edge, worked up from his own depraved tirade and the steadily increasing tightness of your pussy milking him for all he was worth.

He ripped the fist from between your teeth with a moan and slotted your lips together just in time to catch your eyes rolling to show the whites and feel the way you clamped down on him in a vice, cumming all over his big fucking cock and that just about killed him.

Two pumps, maybe three of his length deep in your cunt had him spilling hot, white ropes of release inside you, pulling out until just the tip remained, oozing down your folds and onto the desk.

Panting, Natsuo licked clumsily into your mouth, not quick a kiss but more of a sloppy gesture of 'job well done.'

You carded a lazy hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp, the sting of your nails melting him further into your chest. The sound a door slamming down the hall was the only thing to drag him away from his fucked out stupor.

“That’ll be him,” you mumbled, pushing on his chest and squirming to hop off the desk.

But Natsuo stopped you with a single hand, lightly placed on the center of your throat, pinning you easily on the desk as he tucked himself away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked with a raise of his brow and a smile that had you frowning though he felt the shiver it sent down your spine.

“Out,” you hissed. “Before he gets back.”

“Oh no,” Natsuo smiled as the sound of heavy boots down the hall grew ever closer. “We’ve gotta make sure he knows exactly what happened.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” you struggled harder beneath him before collapsing flat on your back.

The knob faltered halfway through turning as the man on the other side picked up on the voices within.

Natsuo flashed you a wink as he called over his shoulder.

“Come in dad,” he said as the door creaked on its hinges. “I’ve got something to show you.”

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Care to elaborate on Shigaraki sitting on your face? 😳

Bro do I ever 👀

Warnings: face sitting, punishment, degradation

When Shigaraki sits on your face, he’s just trying to share with you all the joys that position brings. He loves when you suffocate him with your thighs and your ass, drench his face in slick and tug on his hair to keep him buried between your lips. With your hands braced against the headboard or just planted flat on the wall, he has so many options.

Tomura can let you grind on him, use his tongue to get off. He fucks with that a lot, the times when he can just be a thing, a body, a toy for you to make yourself cum on. And when he thinks you need to get knocked down a couple pegs, he can lock his hands around your thighs and make sure to hover the last finger of his grip just above your skin before he digs into his meal. Overstimulated or under, either way you’re in for a hell of a fucking ride and he loves how fucked stupid you get, how much you need him to get you toppling over the edge.

Your mouth is free to whine or cry or tell him what a good boy he’s being for you.

Honestly, what isn’t there to love?

And Tomura Shigaraki is never selfish. Of course not. He only wants you to experience the same kind of high he gets whenever you drown him in your pussy.

It has absolutely nothing to do with how pissed he is. How you pushed him just a bit too far, those teases hitting a bit too close to home. He likes when you take control for him, but you can’t let that power go to your head. Can’t forget that those hands never stop being deadly, even when they’re cradled in your tits or pawing at your hips to grind harder against him.

Nope.

Not at all about the fact that the smug grin on your face as you jeer at him won’t be there when you’re choking on his fat balls.

Tomura likes it when you take control. But only when he lets you.

Now he’s gonna let you try out his most favorite position, and he intends to stay there for a while. Makeup for all the lost time you spent on top.

He’s so painstaking about it, showing you exactly how you should wrap your hands over his scarred thighs and use them to spread his cheeks, so his pretty little hole is on display. You’ve never done anything like this before and it’s only polite that he tells you exactly what to do, right?

Not that he’s really all that certain what he’s doing either but that’s besides the point

So Tomura’s got your hands spreading his ass and one of his, signature four fingered grip, on your scalp before he fucking drops. Just presses all the skinny weight in his body onto your mouth and nose. And the little yelp, the whimper, the slapping at his thighs when you realize there’s not a ton of air reaching your lungs—fucking hell now that’s a delicious sound.

“Aw, can’t breathe can you?” he asks, sticking out his bottom lip the way you love and staring into your wide eyes. “That’s part of the fun.”

Then he’s grinding, yanking tight at your head so your tongue slips out and lap up the bitter taste of him. He shudders almost instantly, cock jumping and working itself up to stand straight against his stomach. It’s a strange but somehow phenomenal feeling—part power trip, part his own natural sensitivity—and he didn’t really expect it to be this good, though he gets why you like it so much now.

He lets you wet his hole, precious little kitten licks that loosen him up and make him crave being full. But then he finds your eyes have closed and your brows are pulled up the way you get when you’re really having fun, little moans escaping in the short times you can catch a breath.

And that is not what you’re there for.

So he huffs and sits back, slipping the hand in your hair down to your jaw and squeezing until it pops open and he can shove his balls, tight and heavy and so ready for release, past your lips.

The stretch of them, the musky taste, the smell that must overwhelm you has tears budding in the corners of your eyes and—

Fuck.

Yeah, that’s what he wanted.

He drops his body down again, lets you gargle his fucking balls and strokes his aching dick until there’s cum in your hair and it drips down his wrist.

But you’ve trained him so well, your sweet boy barely needs any time between rounds now.

And he is certainly going to be using that little skill to his advantage.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Hi , I hope your day is going well. If requests are still open: I’d like to request from the smut prompts for a Fem reader with mr. Compress

74. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

it can have dark content (obviously nsfw).

I also hope you have a safe flight 💖

✧ pairing: mr. compress x fem!reader

✧ word count: 2.1k

✧ warnings: yandere themes, kidnapping (not the reader), exhibitionism, spreader bar, dubcon/noncon, drugging (not for reader), bondage, stalking mentions, implied murder, use of pet names (darling, dear, my love, etc...), choking, dirty talk, dominant compress, lots of theater metaphors, afab reader, she/her pronouns, 18+ Minors DNI

✧ a/n: hi yeah sorry I have no idea how this happened, my brain saw dc and ran with it. I was a bit loose with the prompt also. I don't usually write yandere stuff but it just sort of called to me, so enjoy some devious Compress. Thanks for your request nonnie!

He doesn’t exactly plan to do it. Not quite premeditated, but the opportunity was just too perfect to pass up, Compress thinks as he hoists the man’s body over his shoulder.

It's doubtful you’ve discovered the secret admirer you managed to picked up a few weeks ago, but it hasn’t escaped his notice. This man, this brute, has miraculously appeared on every train ride you’ve taken, every trip to the store, every walk through the local park, and has posted himself up at the streetlight a block from your apartment.

At first it was simply a nuisance, though now it’s more a matter of principle. He’s spent months meticulously learning your routines, committing all the lovely mundanities of your life to memory, and this fool thinks he can win you over in only a fraction of the time.

It's an insult to the art.

Compress is a performer after all—he could never pass up the chance at a show.

He has to admit, though, the man has potential. He looks quite good all trussed up in rope, bound to the chair across from your bed. Sedated—of course—though just enough to keep him from struggling too much and ruining the play.

And you, yes you, are stealing the spotlight as always. So demure, so peaceful as you sleep. You barely move as his thin, nimble fingers latch the bar to each graceful ankle. He trusts you to match his energy on stage, but he can’t have you hiding the real lead at any time. Better that he help you just this once. Your wrists are also decorated with the best silk ties he owns. The color glows against your skin in the dim light.

He couldn’t ask for a better co-star.

And it’s time for the show to begin.

“My love,” Compress murmurs, settling behind you on the mattress, letting your back rest on his chest, your head on his shoulder. His mask stares from across the room, a second audience member in the darkened bedroom. “It’s your time for the spotlight.”

The man across the room is stirring, eyes fluttering and met with the delectable sight of your legs forced open by the black metal bar, your perfect pussy on display. It’s more than he deserves to see, but it’s necessary for the lesson to stick.

You mumble a bit as you’re pulled from your dreams and into his waiting arms—naked as the day you were born and ready for the magic to begin. He lets himself indulge a bit as you wake, one hand settled securely around your throat and the other idly circling the nipple of your left breast. By the way it peaks so quickly under his thumb, Compress can already tell you’ll be a true showstopper.

“Now, sir, since you’re so keen on stealing my darling away from me,” he makes sure to project as he speaks angling his face just so that the man’s blurry eyes catch him, “I think it’s time I taught you how to properly please a woman, as you're clearly misinformed.”

You’re starting to squirm under him as you enter back into consciousness. He understands how nerve wracking the performance can be, but he can’t have you getting any stage fright. The hand on your throat tightens just enough to stop anymore sounds from distracting him, though he can’t say the same for the movement of your ass against his lap as you writhe in his grip.

“Don’t worry dear,” he purrs as your breathing picks up. “When I’m finished, you won’t remember worthless excuse of a man at all.”

The statement doesn’t seem to have calmed you much, but the whimper you let out as he releases some of his hold is positively sinful. You really were meant to be his perfect assistant, just like he knew you’d be.

But the spotlight is on him now, his audience awaits and he has yet to disappoint a crowd.

“Make sure you pay close attention,” Compress begins, groaning at the feel of your flesh under his fingers. He’s not ever dared touch you this intimately while you were awake. It’s electrifying. “The lead up is key to the success of the main event.”

His hand leaves your chest, skimming over your stomach to slide through your expose folds. The bar between your legs is doing wonders for his little spectacle. Compress can feel your thighs tighten as they try to clamp shut, force his hand away from where he knows you need it.

Well.

He’s never asked. But your body tells all the truths he needs to know. He might even be kind enough to give you his name after this is all said and done with. Won’t that be a treasure for you. The name of your lover, to cry to yourself when he’s away and your own hands are the only devices to you have to bring you pleasure. You’ll be happy to find you have such a devoted man in your life.

“Please,” you whisper, trembling from just a simple finger running through your slit. “I don’t—“

“Hush, darling,” he places a gentle kiss to your burning cheek. “You don’t have any lines in this scene.”

It’s so delightful to see you this way. Compress is losing his composure faster than he’d expected with his pretty thing all shaky and desperate for him. His cock is already standing at attention, aching in his trousers with the knowledge he’d soon be enveloped in you.

“We always start slowly,” he continues, collecting the slick that’s begun dripping from you and running teasing little circles over your clit. “Be certain your darling is relaxed and receptive to your touch.”

His middle finger prods your entrance, slipping easily inside. Your head rocks against his shoulder as you try to dig your heels into the bed and push against him. Obviously trying to escape from the spark of his touch. It's a lot for you this first time, he's sure. Intimating to have such an experienced lover play you like the first chair violinist in his orchestra.

What an impatient little dear you are too. He’d thought you might be a bit resistant to his touch, but the expression on your face, eyes drawn and teeth bared—you were clearly hungry for his cock to split you open.

Unfortunately, he’d have to keep you waiting a little longer.

“Look at how well she takes me,” his hand at your neck slips up to tilt your chin. He needs the man panting and fighting against the drugs in his system to see how badly you want him. “She’s so tight inside, you know. We’ll need to help her prepare for the next bit.”

You’re eyes are wide, pupils blown and staring at him as your chest heaves with rattling breathes. He needs you calm now though, you should be saving all that for the climax.

Compress dips his head down, lips brushing against yours soothingly as he avoids the nips at his tongue to lead you towards a more languid, less violent tempo. He’ll let you be rough later if that’s how you like it. But now he needs you soft, pliable to his masterful hands. When a second finger slips into your pleasantly soaked cunt, you cry into his mouth.

That strangled sound almost has him breaking character. It’s incredible the things you do to him. Incredible how long he’s waited to claim this prize.

Compress pumps his fingers deeper into your core, stroking against your walls until he feels you jump in his arms.

“Ah, there is it, love,” he says as he pulls always from your lips, a string of saliva keeping the two of you attached. “That’s where you like it, yes?”

Your back is arching away from his chest, arms pulling against the restraints as he massages that spot. His free hand reaches down to rip open the fastenings of his pants while another finger plunges into your heat.

“Now now, you mustn’t squirm so much,” Compress lets a bit of an edge creep into his tone, dropping the hand at your throat to your breast and using the leverage to force you back against his body. “See how needy she's gotten? Just a bit of teasing and the poor thing is dying for a cock in her.”

The man in the chair is starting to come to just a bit more. Compress can see it in the way his sweaty hair shakes as the man struggles against his bonds and chokes at the gag in his mouth.

He ought to enjoy the show while he can.

Enjoy this selfless act on Compress’ part. Your sweet pussy will the last thing he ever sees.

“I suppose we won’t keep her waiting any longer then.”

His length pulses against his stomach, trapped by your flailing body. With some effort and a sharp pinch to your nipple, he’s able to slip his dick forward so it slaps against your dripping core. You keen when he pulls his fingers from you, and he drowns the sound out with his tongue licking at the backs of your teeth.

It’s a bit of a feat, lifting up your hips enough to sink himself into you, considering the bar ensuring your hole that stretches to take each inch is on display. He hears a dull groan from across the room and smirks.

Or he tries to.

He does break the facade just a bit as the overwhelmingly wet heat of you overtakes him. You go limp in his arms after the tip breaches your entrance. Falling like a rag doll with your head on his shoulder—face slack—as gravity drops you the rest of the way onto his cock.

It’s maddening, the intensity of your body wrapping around him. So much so that even a seasoned performer such as himself can’t retain his control.

“Oh darling, that’s what you needed isn’t it?” he asks, voice velvet and drunk off the pulsing of your walls. “Needed your lover’s cock to fill you up?

You whine and burying your face in his neck, tears slipping down your cheeks at what he’s sure must be insurmountable pleasure.

“Now for the main event,” he grunts. “Let’s make that pretty pussy cum.”

As glorious as you feel, sliding up and down on his length as he grips you by the hips and thrusts up into your heat, Compress can admit that he’s a tad jealous of his audience.

They get the joy of watching you fall apart from the front row. Only a tad though. Not even the view of you being ruined on his cock could compare to the feel of it.

“You need more?” he’s only talking to you now, licking a stripe up your cheeks and tasting the salt on your skin. “Want my fingers on your clit too, you greedy thing?”

Your head lolls against him as he presses his cheek to your forehead, beads of sweat soaking through the balaclava still firmly in place on his head. He despairs at the lack of your hands sliding through his hair, tugging at the curls to draw every bit of him closer to you. But that would be for the next time, far too intimate for a performance such as this. He drops a hand from your hip to rub at your bud, unable to hold back the moan that clawed its way out of his throat when you clamp even tighter around him.

When you do tip over the edge, the only intimation you give is a small whimper that losses its way in the fabric of his shirt and the pulsing of your walls around him, ankles fighting against the solid bar between them to close your legs against the pleasure. Compress would have to give you a note on that later. If only for the show of it, though he fared no better. The rhythmic clenching of your cunt coupled with the weight of you on him simply too much for any man to endure.

His cock pulses with his release, painting your walls until he pulls out to let the rest coat your stomach and dribble out of your hole.

Your body continues to shake against him, even as he cradles your head and slips a hand against your cheek to kiss you—a sweet reward for an even sweeter performance.

“I—who-“ you gasp as he parts from you, eyes flicking to the man in the corner, tear tracks running down his forgettable features and hard in his pants.

“Atsuhiro, my dear,” he supplies you, stealing another kiss before detangling himself from your body. “That’s who you’ll be screaming for from now on.”

You stare at him wildly as he stands to replace his mask, throwing you a wink before his face is covered and his pants reaffixed. The man in the corner began to stir a bit too vehemently as Compress yanked at the bindings.

Oh well.

A shame he couldn’t linger. Couldn’t remain to go another round and fill you all over again, but he knows you—like all the best starlets—wouldn’t appreciate so many repeat performances.

He’d make sure the audience was ushered out first, at the very least.

There’d be plenty of time to untie you later, after all.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Okay what about Shig + “I like it when you call me a drunk whore" but Shig is the drunk whore?

✧ pairing: tomura shigaraki x gn!reader

✧ word count: 1.6k

✧ warnings: drunk sex, alcohol consumption, shigs is sloppy little slut 18+ Minors DNI

✧ a/n: we've all heard about sub!shig supremacy, now get ready for slut!shig supremacy

The bar is unusually lively, alight with the adrenaline rush of a successful mission and the revelry that always follows not far behind.

“Never have I ever,” Dabi slurs beside you, the rest of the League seated cross legged in a circle on the filthy hardwood, “crashed a fucking car.”

His eyes, sparkling with the glow of dim light and cheap whiskey, are settled pointedly on Spinner who groans. The head of wild, bubblegum hair shakes when he rolls his eyes and tosses back his fourth shot of the night.

“Man, you can’t just keep picking things that only apply to one of us, you dick,” Spinner chokes down what could have passed for nail polish remover, the only bottle that Kurogiri would part ways with for your impromptu celebration.

“Don’t be a sore fucking loser,” Dabi chides, shoulders brushing against you as he sways under the influence of his own multitude of shots. “Boss, you’re up.”

Ah.

You’d been avoiding looking across the room where your leader sat. Shigaraki had shockingly plopped down with the rest of you, taking the glass Twice offered him and even occasionally participating in the drinking games. You found yourself struggling to maintain your composure a bit not long after when it became incredibly evident that your boss was either a fucking lightweight or was sneaking sips while you weren’t paying attention.

The flush that spread across his bare cheeks, leaked down the column of his throat and under the stretched out shirt collar was making your clothing stick to your skin and warming your face faster than the alcohol could manage.

He’d always been some strange sort of alluring, but now with his face bare and pink and that dopey, liquor infused grin—honestly you didn't know how you’d kept it together this long. Cause as much as you aren’t looking at him, he's sure as hell looking at you.

You couldn’t begin process whatever jab he sends Dabi’s way, only registering the movement beside you as he takes the last shot from the bottle. There’s a thump from the other side of the room where Twice had finally passed on on the floor, but your eyes are too honed in on the tug of your boss’s lips, the way he looks through his lashes and spreads his legs without breaking his stare. A pale hand runs slowly up his chest to tug at the loose neckline of his shirt, exposing even more flushed pink skin. Your teeth ache with the need to sink into his flesh.

And that little shit knows it.

It’s clear in the little raise in his brow, the peak of his tongue between those torn lips. Shigaraki has always had a certain air of arrogance confidence that made him attractive to you. The kind of somewhat delusional self-assuredness is what drew you in, made you weasel out your place here amongst the team, but he’s always been far more withdrawn. This is flagrant, purposeful, and the implication behind that look he’s giving you now is impossible to mistake.

You are being propositioned by your boss—your drunk boss nonetheless—and now you’re beginning to wonder just how subtle you’ve been these past few months with the League for Shigaraki of all people to feel comfortable enough to stare at you like that in public.

Maybe it’s just the liquor. The drinks coupled with the sweet high of victory that’s got him loosening up just a bit too much.

Either way, the rest of the group is rallying for another round—for full glasses and more games—so you take the opportunity presented to you by the rush of noise to slip away, stumbling a bit more than you’d like to admit on your way up the stairs.

It’s hard to cool down though when your whole body feels like a live wire and the source of that spark is sneaking through your door only a few minutes later.

His shirt is hitting the floor the second you hear the hinges creak and shut behind him.

“The fuck..?” your voice comes out in a liquor laced gasp and doesn’t get much farther than a few inches from your lips before another, rougher pair is tonguing the words back between your teeth.

Tomura Shigaraki kisses you clumsily, whether from inexperience or the inherent, sloppy nature of drunk mouths you don’t know, but you are sure that it’s the most alive you’ve felt in ages.

“Boss, what are you—”

You’re trying, you really are, to retain some of your rationality in this situation. Not that anything about you is strictly professional, but you’re aware of the risks involved with fucking your leader. It’s generally regarded as a terrible move, though your hips still give way when he paws at them to grind against the outline of his dick.

And oh no, it’s big.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he hisses, grabbing the hem of your shirt in a full fingered fist and grinning as it dusts away to reveal your skin to his wandering gaze. It would have been an incredibly intimidating display of power if he wasn’t also letting out little whimpers at the same time, pulling your thigh between his and rocking the bulge in his jeans feverishly against the muscle.

You can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up as you watch him pant and hump your leg and drool over your exposed chest.

“Oh my god, Shigs,” you relax a bit into the movement of his hips, grabbing his bare waist to help him roll into you. “You’re a fucking whore when you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

The smirk you receive in return is both unexpected and greatly appreciated.

He leans in, licking a long strip up your throat and biting hard on the soft skin of your earlobe. “I like it when you call me that,” he whispers.

You aren’t sure what the hell happened to you boss and who this man is that's tugging his tight jeans down under his ass so he can rub more of his leaking cock on you, but it doesn’t seem like now is the time to inquire. So you keep your mouth shut until Shigaraki decides he wants to lick the backs of your teeth again and pushes you down onto the bare mattress that serves as your bed.

“Take these off now if you wanna keep them,” he grunts, hovering his fingers threateningly over your bottoms.

You raise your hands up in horny surrender, wiggling out of them to lay bare under him as he rids himself of the last fabric barriers between your bodies.

“You gonna be a good little whore for me then?” you ask, partly to see the little pout that forms on his scarred face and partly to see just how far you can push until he snaps—and what that might entail for you.

What the hell, right? Fucking your boss, just once probably wouldn’t hurt.

Probably.

“No,” he huffs against your lips, nipping and sucking the skin between his teeth until they’re kiss swollen and you’re both panting.

You were right before, of course. His cock is heavy and long in your palm when you reach down to stroke him as he straddles you, hands on either side of your head. It’s got the same pretty flush that spreads down his cheeks to his chest and makes his pretty nipples stand out. The tip gushes against your thumb as you swipe across it, slicking your fist so that you can pump him easily while he shudders and sucks at your neck.

His hips eagerly meet the movements of your wrist, so much so that you learn to keep your hand still so he can fuck into the space between your fingers, groaning and burying his head in your chest as you move so your thumb circles the sensitive head.

A few strokes later and you feel the tell tale twitch of his cock just before he’s painting you from the chin down in thick, white ropes of release. It’s almost unending, how much pours from him only to dribble over your fist and seep into your skin.

Shigaraki collapses roughly onto you, his body draped over yours in the mess he’s made without a care for the sticky combination of sweat and cum.

You lay, panting along with him, reveling in the knowledge that you made your boss cream himself with just a few strokes of your hand, but still frustratingly turned on and more than a bit disappointed.

Though the feeling is short lived.

Only a minute later, the labored breathing in your ear dissipates, turning once again into breathy moans as the softening cock trapped between your bodies hardens again and slides along your slick stomach.

“Didn’t think I was done, did you?”

That voice and the dry laugh that follows ought to be outlawed for how quickly it had you stopping dead in your tracks.

“Course not, boss,” you mumbled, letting him hike your legs up over his hips and stare down at you sprawled on the bed.

Whiskey dick seemed to have absolutely no meaning to Tomura Shigaraki as he grinned at you, curtains of hair framing the scarred expanse of his throat that you couldn’t wait to paint with marks and bruises as you tested out just how many times your newly revealed whore of a boss could go until he really was finished.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Number 125 of the smut prompts for Shiggy pls 🥺?

✧ pairing: tomura shigaraki x gn!reader

✧ warnings: smut, mentions of choking, soft sex, implied longterm relationship, 18+ minors DNI

✧ word count: 700

✧ prompt: “Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.”

The pillow under your head was soaked in spit and sweat. Your face dragged through the mess every time Tomura rolled his hips and sank his length deeper inside you. The room melted around you, fading in and out with the sounds of pitched gasps and the wet slap of your walls sucking him in.

It was so good.

That overwhelming kind of pleasure that boiled in your gut and made you squirm, made you insatiable for more.

It was always this way with Tomura—always maddening, never enough even when you were stuffed to the brim with his cock, his tongue, his release painting every available inch of skin.

He keened above you, chest draped over your back and hips nestled against your ass, pausing in his thrusts to press deeper. The stretch of his cock, the burn that licked at places not even you had reached before was better than any grocery store romance could ever put into words.

But when your eyes fluttered open to glance over your shoulder, finding Tomura’s eyes squeezed shut—the wrinkles in the soft skin around his forehead raging red with exertion—you couldn’t help the pang you felt at the frustrated arch of his brow and the lip bitten bloody between his teeth.

His hands were balled into knuckle-white fists in the sheets next to you.

Like always.

Buried to the hilt in your body, touching at every point except those lovely, delicate, deadly hands.

Tomura pressed harder into the mattress, the curve of him fitting puzzle-piece perfect against your spine. You reveled in the feeling of his length pushing impossibly deeper, but the loss of his hands to compliment the roll of his hips and the glide of his tongue against your neck was suffocating.

“Tomura?” you panted, arching up and rocking your ass into his thighs as you clenched around him.

From behind the curtain of wild hair, a single red iris peaked out and found your face, whimpering as he nuzzled deeper into your shoulder. You nudged him with your nose, until your mouth found his ear and bit lightly at the lobe so you knew he’d listen.

“Look, I’m not into choking, but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while,” you tried to laugh while you said it, but it was forced out of you as Tomura reared his hips back and landed a particularly hard thrust.

The mood in the room certainly shifted, though you weren’t sure it was for the better.

“That’s not—” he mumbled, pulling away and you clenched hard around his cock before he slipped out entirely.

“Just touch me,” it was harsh, but you were desperate and too far gone for shame, “please, god, touch me.”

There was a pause, long and painful but so worth the pay off. You felt the physical relief, a release of years of tension when finally, finally, those pleasantly rough fingertips trailed up from the mattress and across your hips, painting pretty little spirals as they went. It was spell-work, his hands on you. You longed to have the paths inked onto your skin as he felt up your back and lightly gripped the column of your throat with four lovely fingers.

That was when the coil snapped.

A second was all it took, a second of indulgence, of your flesh molding to his touch and there were hips slamming into you once again.

The cry that left you was strangled by the delicious burn, the searing pleasure of Tomura carving out a space for himself inside you. The hand at your throat pulled you up as he raised himself to his knees with your back to his chest and one hand on your hip while he finished what you started.

And when you were coated in him, dripping with him, marked and sated and gloriously at peace—there were fingers tangled with yours.

Fingers cupping your chest, fingers smoothing across your cheek, greedy hands making up for so much lost time.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Bee! I would love to request whatever comfort Toshinori Yagi would want to give reader to cheer them up! ;)

✧ pairing: Yagi Toshinori (All Might) x gn!reader

✧ warnings: hurt/comfort, emotional breakdowns, bee can't help but slip in just a tiny bit of angst, no explicit content but still 18+ Minors DNI with all my work

✧ word count: 1k

✧a/n: hello Marie, my love. I hope you enjoy whatever the fuck this is. Honestly, I just think Toshi would be the most clueless man ever, but it's so painfully endearing that I wouldn't want him any other way.

Comfort from Yagi Toshinori is situationally dependent.

He’s a hero, first and foremost. Above all else, it’s his job to be comforting.

But Christ, when you breakdown in front of him in the teachers lounge over a spilled cup of coffee—he’s at a loss. He’s cast adrift watching his relatively distant and generally professional coworker ugly cry—complete with snot tracks and all—tears dripping onto the coffee and porcelain shard covered linoleum.

What the hell is he supposed to do with that?

He can hold a life, hundreds or often thousands of lives, in his palms and grin through the smoke, but this isn’t life or death. It’s just life. There is no end of the world, only a spilled cup of coffee and too many compounding, tiny problems that multiply amongst each other like spring rabbits until all it takes is a crack and a splash for the sobbing to start and once it does, it doesn’t stop.

It’s a run-on sentence with too many clauses and life is a teacher finally going in with the red pen.

Toshi knows what that feels like, but empathy and sympathy are not the same things. That’s why they came up with different words for them. You’re not bleeding, you’re just too damn tired for this shit. But It doesn't really feel like the time for commiserating. So instead, he flounders like a freshly caught fish with a hook in its cheek, watching you sniffle and hiccup and it’s so pitiful he almost has to look away.

He’s half fucking tempted to just leave.

But only for a second.

Cause he likes you, you’re one his favorite coworkers actually and he can’t just leave you to full-blown, shoulder-shaking weep in the teacher’s lounge alone. But you don’t need a hero, you need a friend, and he hasn't been one of those in awhile.

For you though.

For you, he’ll try.

It’s a lot of awkward back patting—a lot of snot stains on his blazer and mumbled apologies—but then the mess is swept (quite literally) under the rug. You sit next to him on the couch, sniffling still though exponentially less than before, letting out a stumbling laugh at his horrendous attempts to lighten the mood.

He can tell it’s at least a bit effective.

There’s a cup steaming in your hands a minute later. And the room feels heavy, but you look lighter. Toshi sees it in the set of your shoulders, the clench of your jaw, and the small bit of tooth that peeks out from your lopsided smile.

It’s reluctant and embarrassed, but it’s there.

“Better now?” he asks, a massive hand still resting on the small of your back.

You seem to appreciate the weight of it.

Grounding, he thinks.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Your voice is halting, but not unkind.

Just tired.

“I understand.”

He says it without really meaning to. Doesn’t want to make this about him, to overshadow whatever stitches broke open, whatever wound of yours is leaking blood, sweat, and tears.

But then you’re grabbing his other hand, palm full with just two of his fingers, and squeezing in this affectionate, shared human experience of life’s gut punches kind of way that almost brings a tear to his eye.

“This fucking sucks,” you sigh and squeeze and he finds himself easily agreeing with you.

It does fucking suck.

He’s not really sure what ‘it’ is, but he knows you’re right. Things have been rough, and maybe they had never been anything else now that he thinks about it. Toshi had been so caught up in his legacy, in his work and leaving behind something that mattered, he hadn’t given himself the opportunity to ever acknowledge that the path to greatness was full of potholes and flash floods and lined with roadkill.

He admires you to an extent. Admires how you can let yourself reach a breaking point.

Or maybe it’s envy.

Maybe he wishes he could allow himself that kind of crack in his armor.

But this isn’t about him.

So he shoves those thoughts away and squeezes your hand and sighs with you even as his poor lungs protest at the effort.

“Yes,” he mutters. “Yes, it does.”

When you hug him, he’s so shocked he doesn’t get the chance to reciprocate. You just throw those arms around his shoulders and tighten your grip just a bit before you let go. Like you might leave your own cracks behind in him. Like he might find the same relief.

Might cry over spilt coffee and be all the better for it.

“Thanks again,” you whisper in parting, slipping from the lounge.

Toshi is left behind then with two cups of tea and the distinct feeling that he’s just learned something incredibly crucial far too late.

Hero work is cut and dry. You know you’ve got the right solution when no one dies, or at least you should. Because death is simple, and life is sloppy. Life is sobbing in front of your coworkers and screaming at the stars and anger with no place to go.

Or maybe this is where it goes.

Into someone else. The comfort isn’t in the words or the semi-professional back pats. It’s in the transfer. The reminder that this experience, while varied and gloriously horrific, is universal. Shared and hated and loved and there is comfort in the camaraderie that comes from being born into the grand mess of the world together.

He didn’t get a chance to ask you what was wrong.

Though Toshi supposed he didn’t need to, nor would you have likely had an answer.

What’s wrong?

Well, what isn’t really?

His hand is still warm where you held it. He imagines yours must be as well. There is no real loneliness, no escape from others and their disastrous lives. The truth remains that whatever heart wrenching joy or excruciating tragedy, some poor soul has felt the same and knows what it is like to break.

Which is the only thing that matters.

In short, Yagi Toshinori is a bit shit, a bit unwieldy and cumbersome, in his methods of comfort. But he doesn’t need to be anything else. He offers his presence and his role as another clueless human being fumbling their way through this mortal coil.

And that is often enough.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

heyo friend, I hope you’re doing well 🖤 What about the “You know I hate it when you do that, right? Keep doing it” smut prompt + shigaraki? With a gn!reader?

✧ pairing: tomura shigaraki x gn!reader

✧ warnings: brat taming themes, smut, references to violence, blood mention, handjobs, villain!reader, 18+ minors DNI

✧ word count: 1.5k

✧ a/n: hey mootie! thanks so much for your request. I know you were looking for some brat taming so take my subtle, sleep deprived attempt at some lowkey bratty behavior.

“You idiot, what the hell was that?”

The door slammed hard enough to reverberate through your chest. The momentary shake in your ribs was nothing compared to the adrenaline trembling in your fingers as they flailed in front of you, catching your fall. The bar top was cold and unforgiving in your grip.

Just like the floors under your feet and the roof over your head and all the people uneasily asleep upstairs.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

Tomura Shigaraki cut a menacing figure—and when didn't he?—as he stood cloaked in the darkness of the hideout. You could still feel the ache of his grip on your arm, can feel the dull throb of forming bruises there. He left faint crimson footprints behind when he stepped fully into the dim, overhead lights.

The short, baby curls around his head shone in the glow like some blasphemous halo.

But he is your savior tonight, so the comparison seems a bit less jarring.

“You’re gonna have to be a lot more specific than that, boss,” you tried to sound less winded than you are.

For someone so skinny, Shigaraki had some fucking stamina. Both beaten and well bloodied, the two of you certainly cut a striking image. And while you were panting from your escape—legs on fire after carrying you down innumerable alleyways and feet numb from the slap of the pavement through worn out soles—your boss seemed barely winded.

Untouched by the fight and subsequent flight halfway across the city while tugging you along at his heels.

Though, he also didn’t get his ass straight up hyperdrive blasted into a brick wall. You’d give yourself some credit where it was due.

“I don’t need you taking hits for me,” he snapped, coming nose to nose—well, hand to nose with you.

Every muscle in your body protested as you stood straight and stared him down, feeling how the bruises cut deep through your skin and stained your ego like rotting fruit.

“Really?” you asked, not quite delusional enough to be incredulous, but getting there. “Cause that fucking black eye says differently.”

There was a nasty red and purple mark spreading from the side of his temple that disappeared under the hand that hid most of his face from view. You’d watched him take that kick straight to the side of his head and not even stumble.

He was right.

Shigaraki didn’t lie—that’s why you followed him.

That’s why you couldn’t help the strange, second nature movement of your feet as you had watched one of the dozens that ambushed you wind up to fire a super-powered punch off at Shigs chest. The whole moment existed as a slow motion memory, something you watched from above—a voyeur in your own mind. The way your boss’ eyes went horribly wide, the glow of the man’s fist, the way your body went limp like a rag doll in mid air and slammed against the adjacent wall.

How your assailant was nothing more than a pile of ash only seconds later.

Though you tried not to read too much into that particular detail.

“You know I hate it when you do that right?”

You became peripherally aware that the ache in your chest was being exacerbated by his body weight pressing you back into the polished wood of the bar. As two hands caged you in with their pinkies comically raised to keep you trapped, you felt a familiar rush of defiance in the face of this show of superiority.

“What? When I save your dusty ass?” you tried to smile but his unwavering gaze made it die on your lips.

To be completely fair, you had just watched him take so many hits that should have killed him outright and keep fighting like the inevitably fractured bones were nothing but pinpricks.

You’d always known Shigaraki was intimidating, in his self-assuredness and confidence you knew was not unfounded. But you’d never seen him put his money where his mouth is before, only heard the stories from the rest of the League.

Now you understood.

“When you talk back to me,” he hissed.

He didn’t bother to correct you. He didn’t need to. You both very well knew that if anyone had been saved tonight, it was you as he retreated from the fight, pulling you to safety and not stopping until he—and doors of the bar—were firmly placed between you and feral city streets.

“Oh come on—” you were halfway through an eye roll even Dabi would be proud of when he reached up to grip the hand on his face and pulled it aside.

The smell of formaldehyde dissipated as it landed with a thunk on the bar and Shigaraki stared at you with newly unencumbered intensity.

“Keep doing it.”

You blinked in stunned stupid silence.

“What?”

It was only then that you realized it, and once you saw the subtle flush of his cheeks and the twitch in his fingers, you weren’t sure how it had ever escaped your notice.

Villainy had always been attractive for the rush, alluring in the sense that it afforded you the feeling of being so painfully alive. The adrenaline fueled, full body shaking that flooded you with invincible endorphins—that made your face hot and your blood sing. That was what called to you. That was what had you flinging yourself in front of punches and sprinting down the worn out city streets.

And that was what Shigaraki was feeling now as you held your own against him.

Challenged his authority.

Took what you were given and gave just as well.

You could imagine most people would have given up the smartass act after one too many brushes with a dusty end, but you were a stubborn piece of shit.

In fact, you were a little fucking brat.

And Tomura Shigaraki liked it.

“I won’t tell you twice,” he said, and when exactly did that gravel road rasp in his voice become so spine tingling?

His chest was flush with you now, and the familiar firmness pressing against your thigh only confirmed your revelation.

And only strengthened your resolve.

A grin on your face, you locked eyes with your boss.

“Oh, Shigs,” you mused, shivering at the way he smirked down at you in all his bloody, beaten glory. “I think you absolutely will.”

The bar behind you creaked under his grip and you suddenly missed the power in those deadly hands, pressing fingerprint bruises into your skin. You doubted you’d have to wait much longer for that though, not with the he twitched against your hips as you shifted to press back into him.

“Maybe you’ll listen better with your mouth full.”

One of those long fingers was trailing softly through the gashes in your top, running across your chest and tapping at your lips. He rolled what was undeniable a fucking unfairly large dick against you just so there would be no mistaking the direction this was clearly going in.

And what a hot fucking turn of events it was.

“Now boss, if you want me to keep talking, you’re gonna have to fill up something else.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little proud of yourself at the ability to formulate comebacks even as the hand at your lips slipped down to yours and drew it to the fastenings of his jeans.

“Don’t think I’m going to reward you for being so fucking irresponsible.”

He seemed at once so simultaneously wrecked and completely untouched by you that your head spun. Shigaraki kept his voice even, his face stuck in that same pleased expression. The only thing that gave him away was the raging hard cock you now palmed easily through his underwear and the pink flush that was spreading slowly down his neck and under the low collar of his shirt.

“Bold of you to assume this isn’t a reward,” you muttered, entranced by the way the blush lit around the razor edges of his scars, thin silver lines prominent against the blood rushing under his skin.

Your mouth watered and Shigaraki—Tomura? Should you call him Tomura now that his length was falling free into your palm and leaking across your fingers?—did nothing to stop you from leaning forward and latching onto one of the rough patches of flesh.

Shigs didn’t seem ashamed in the least or try to hide the gasp you yanked out of him with your tongue pressing deeply over the veins in his neck.

However, he also didn’t allow either of you to indulge for long. Seconds later a hand gripped the back of your shirt and the wrist that was currently pumping your boss’ deliciously heavy dick, stopping your movements entirely.

The rational part of your brain was not quick enough to catch the whine that left you when he moved to step away.

Shigaraki’s rare chuckle almost made it worth the embarrassment.

“Yeah,” he was grinning again but it was different this time. Predatory—a beast caught scent of blood, ready for the newest struggle to the death. “That’s what I thought.”

When he finally guided your hand back to his cock, warm with a beautiful red tip that gushed enough to slick your palm, you found it incrementally harder to formulate a response.

But you hadn't quite given up the fight yet.

When you smiled back at him, it was all teeth.

All claws.

Ready and waiting to be tamed.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

REQUEST INFO

✧ Obviously, you must be 18+ years old to interact or send requests

✧ I will update my bio and make an announcement post if/when my ask box is open for requests. Generally I’ll link to some prompt lists, but you are free to send in anything as long as it adheres to my boundaries.

✧ I won't get to everything submitted. If the request doesn't vibe with me, I just delete them.

✧ I overwhelmingly write some brand of angst, I don't enjoy doing hurt/comfort, so please don't ask me for specific comfort scenarios. If you're looking for more lighthearted stuff, I love humor or talking about aus so feel free to send that!

✧ I do not write scenarios for specific mental illness

✧ Most of readers are body neutral, meaning I avoid describing them physically as much as possible, so please don't request a reader with a specific body type.

✧ Please keep in mind the style of my writing and what fics I've posted in the past when you request.

✧ I prefer to write for a more dominant reader (and I'm not super great at anything else), so keep that in mind while requesting

WHEN FORMATTING A REQUEST:

Please only include one character at a time unless you’d like a poly relationship piece.

Feel free to offer a prompt as well from one of the lists or if not, give me a general idea of what you’d like (just don't give me whole plot summary or very detailed scenarios)

I don't do headcanon requests in the list format at least. Most of my work is long form/drabbles.

Specify if you’d like a fem, male or gender neutral reader.

Let me know if you’d like it to be sfw/nsfw/dark content

WHAT I WON’T WRITE

✧ anything relating to pregnancy/children

✧ underage/age play/ddlg

✧ scat

✧ incest

✧ piss kink

✧ daddy kink

✧ pet play

✧ exclusively submissive readers

WHO I WRITE FOR

✧ Tomura Shigaraki

✧ Dabi | Touya Todoroki

✧ Keigo Takami | Hawks

✧ Yagi Toshinori | All Might

✧ Atsuhiro Sako | Mr. Compress

✧ Jin Bubaigawara | Twice

✧ Kenji Hikiishi | Magne

✧ Shuichi Iguchi | Spinner

✧ Katsuki Bakugou | Dynamight (@kingkatsuki exclusive <33)

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Hey folks! I have a day off and have been lacking in ideas to write, so I’m gonna open up my ask box for requests if you’d like to send some in!

Here are a few prompt lists as options: smut prompts, angst prompts, types of touches

Please only send 1 character per prompt (unless you'd like a poly ship x reader) and check my rules/request info pages for characters I’ll write for and my list of wont‘s

Feel free to send in requests without prompts from the lists, just check the rules!

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Hey y'all! I'm gonna be traveling again tomorrow and it looks like my flight might be delayed so if you'd like, feel free to send me some requests to mull over while I'm trapped in the airport.

Here are a few prompt lists as options: smut prompts, angst prompts, types of touches

Please only send 1 character per prompt (unless you'd like a poly ship x reader) and check my rules/request info pages for characters I’ll write for and my list of wont‘s

Feel free to send in requests without prompts from the lists, just check the rules!

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Could we get a one shot follow up from the shiggy century lit fic? Just to kind of see what they're up to, smut or not. Thank you!! You write so incredibly well !!

Here it is anon! Thank you so much for your request and your interest in the au! 💖

[get-shiggy-with-it]

✧ - TAGS

bee.writes - all my writing

bee.requests - requested writing

bee.recs - any fic/author recs

bee.reads - reblogs of fic I've read

bee.talks - original text posts

bee.rants - text posts but add a little ~spice~

bee answers 🐝 - ask posts

✧ - FAQ

-> what characters do you write for?

check out my rules page here for who I write and my list of wills/wonts

-> how do I request from you?

click here for my request rules and you can check the tag 'bee.requests' for some examples

-> I requested something awhile ago and you haven't answered?

not super unusual lol, I'm a student and also like depressed. I use requests to fill the gaps between fic motivation so I may never get around to it unless inspiration strikes. That's just how it be here folks, apologies in advance.

-> do you take character anons?

I do not! No tea no shade, I just don't rp as myself. When I have in the past, I tend to do really long response type, plot driven stuff and it burned me out quick. I do occasionally drop in as characters for others tho, so I get the appeal.

-> do you do emoji anons?

Yep! Just please for the love of god make sure you are old enough to be interacting with this blog. Drop me an ask and I'll be glad to add you to the list. Just don't go trauma dumping in my inbox, I'm just a gay dumbass on the internet. I can't go helping y'all with that stuff.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Sooo I am gonna be traveling tomorrow if anyone would like to drop some short requests in my inbox to entertain me while I'm at the airport, please feel free 💖

[get-shiggy-with-it]

I've got space for about 4 more then get them out the rest of today and tomorrow!

Hey folks! I have a day off and have been lacking in ideas to write, so I’m gonna open up my ask box for requests if you’d like to send some in!

Here are a few prompt lists as options: smut prompts, angst prompts, types of touches

Please only send 1 character per prompt (unless you'd like a poly ship x reader) and check my rules/request info pages for characters I’ll write for and my list of wont‘s

Feel free to send in requests without prompts from the lists, just check the rules!