#fanfiction material?... yeah

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

no but like. does bad know what that book meant. does he know. because if he did then he gave it to forever Anyway. he gave it to forever as part of a GAME. bad never tells people how he feels about them to their faces (rememebr the 14 elegant letters in festa junina! the 14 anonymous letters that were so fucking lovely!!) and he always plays with people and he gave forever a book. that says eu te amo. as part of a GAME.

[danzainosolitude]

Once again I read fanfiction that seems to have been precisely written to deal psychic damage to me.

[waitineedaname]

who are some of your favorite fanfic authors?

oh god this is such a hard question bc I'm really bad at keeping track of fics I like. I really should use the bookmarks function, but I do not <3

of the fic writers I can actually remember, I've got a couple from various fandoms I've been in the past few years! for hlvrai, it's absolutely @localdisasterisk. their narrative voice is so distinct and yet matches each character they write so perfectly, and I adore their dialogue. Scorched Grounds is to this day one of the funniest fics I've ever read. even if you know nothing about hlvrai, you should read this fic because it is hysterical. also risk has done the impossible, which is to incorporate ocs into fanfiction in a way that not only makes me care about them, but also makes me cry about them. what the fuck.

in the mp100 fandom, @scribefindegil definitely takes the cake. I'm realizing this is revealing what I really look for in a good fanfiction, but just like what I said for risk, scribe's narrative voice is fantastic and matches the pov characters spectacularly well. also scribe's handle on the themes™ and tone and tension?? chef's kiss. The Brassica Heresy is a masterpiece of vegetable based horror, but I'm especially partial to In Case Of Emergency because I love the ensemble cast and I really like the non-espers having to solve a psychic problem

also I haven't been able to keep up with most of the fics bc they've been coming out at a dizzying rate, but @thatneoncrisis deserves a shoutout for doing truly insane shit in the locked tomb fandom. no one is doing it like quinn. it's amazing. go read We Have Always Lived in the Apartment, it is truly something special

[mifithemuffin]

oh author who writes fucked up and violently uncomfortable fics for character exploration purposes I hold you so gently

[mirror-to-the-past]

I am but a measly 2:00:15 into the genre-defining "Riku is Gay" video, but like. Damn, Tennelle Flowers is a cinematic genius. I've remained so thoroughly enthralled by the tasteful spacing of audio commentary, clips from the games, and excerpts from the novels/writer interviews that I've hardly even noticed the time passing. What is this video laced with, man- I love video essays, but usually I have to rewind a gazillion times due to my attention slipping against my will.

That collage of comparison clips from KH2 Beast's arc and Riku's KH1-KH2 arc is killing me, man. Ever wish you could tattoo a part of a video to your forehead? Apparently, now I do.

[craybii]

Surely it’s unofficial canon that Daemon, Rhaenyra, Harwin, Laena and Laenor all had a fivesome at some point, right? And I need someone to do a fanfiction about that ASAP (and who did what lmao)

I needed the friendships, the affairs, the orgies in the show. Leaving out the 1x05-1x06 inbetween is HBO’s biggest crime... right after S8.

[wheelercore]

The "fruity four" thing really was a great example of this fandoms strange relationship with the character's sexuality (excluding robin because she canonically a lesbian ofc), and by that I mean have you ever seen that tumblr post about how people will hc a characters sexuality completely based on their personality? That's like. Exactly what I'm talking about here, in particular this weird Asshole = Heterosexual thing going on. So you'll end up with people (fans aren't already invested in Gay Mike Truthism (tm)) who are like Nancy is actually a lesbian! Steve is bi! Dustin in pan! Lucas is bi! Mike is the Token Straight Friend though because he's a dick and I don't like him! And it's just weird to watch because ofc I have no problem with hcs, god knows I have my own, but it's like trying to hit the bullseye with a dart and instead you pluck someone's eye out with it.

And this fandom attitude just doesn't mesh with any media that actually seeks to tell a complicated story about a gay boy in the 80s who feels all the worst feelings about himself and the people around him. Yeah of course he's going to be a bit of a grouch. Maybe a bit of a meanie head as he has to pretend to be heterosexual. Maybe he does actually deserve to be with the boy he's in love with though?

It could be that it isn't explicit yet that Mike is very possibly gay, fair enough, but something similar is done with Will. From the beginning its been pretty obvious that his character was queer, but you even still get people (who aren't fans of will and mike obviously) who will be like oh he cries too much. Oh he's so pathetic. Or he's so weak when he's giving monologue about being different and how that makes him feel like a mistake, how he's clearly suffering from the long term effects of the abuse he's suffered from Lonnie and from bullies.

Idk it just feels to me like the point is being missed. Badly.

[dino-anarchy]

being rlly obsessed with dog sees god is funny too cuz i dont know shit about peanuts

[bucketofbugz]

got a 90 on part 1 of my Latin final

Part 2 is the one where I have to translate a Latin passage

why did my mom tell me to choose Latin instead of ASL

[primatechnosynthpop]

hey! this is the same person who messaged you on ao3 and i'd love the links to the nkotr fics, thanks for recommending them!

Hey there! Ok so first off, @mouth-dreaming's fic "How To Undo A Traffic Accident" can be found here! It's inspired by some of the comments on Ryan's "How To Cause A Traffic Accident" video, and is very fun in a way that feels perfectly in line with the source material.

...As for mine, there's a few with varying levels of polish... a couple are literally just google docs and one is just a screenplay, but if it's in my writing tag and isn't posted to wattpad or ao3 then I'm listing it here for posterity. Also they're in order of when I wrote them so maybe you can track how my writing style's developed, idk

New Kitty Cats on the Rock- a storybook-style retelling of the first episode wherein the guys are replaced by cats. The compressed and blurry ms paint drawings leave much to be desired, but I'd never dream of removing them since I think they add to the vibe

Unnamed fic from Old Man Cooper's POV which sprung forth from my notes app. Kind of a moody atmosphere and played mostly straight, making it an arguably less entertaining read than some of my other works but still worth checking out if you're interested

It's A Sad Webisode, But We Film It Anyway- keeping the theme of spooky manor going, a canon-compliant fic set between episodes 4 and 5 in which Neil and Ryan venture into the underworld to get Kevin back. Mostly following the source material's goofy tone but with a little more heartfelt emotion

The Vigilantes (Plural) Redux- a rewrite of one of my wattpad fics which you may or may not have read (if you haven't seen the original, it's probably because I put it in the watchmen tag rather than any nkotr-related tags). A canon divergence fic for episode 5 wherein a case of mistaken identity just might spell tragedy for the new kids

Temporal (Talent) Agents- a screenplay based off a post I once saw about the new kids originally being from different time periods, which dares to ask the question, what if Ryan's throwaway line in the money tree about having raised Kevin was something that could actually be so personal

Like A Catabolic Seed- canon divergence fic for the lost episode (y'know the one where Neil picks up a clover and gets struck by lightning). Here, the demonic curse does worse than mess with his luck--it alters his very personality, to a degree which may prove deadly

[vulcanhello]

anyone trying to argue fanfic is inherently better than the films, books, and other stories they originate from i just KNOW doesn’t actually watch movies or read or engage with anything outside their favorite ao3 tags

[lovelybucky1]

Currenty thinking about sitting with my back against wade’s chest whie logan is eating my pussy and wade is playing with my tits and telling me I’m such a good girl for them 😫😫

being the meat in that sandwich is the absolute dream.

logan is a pro at eating pussy, there’s no doubt about that. he dives right in and isn’t afraid to get messy. he will look up at you from between your thighs, a feral, lust-blown look in his eyes that drives you wild. you grip his hair and tug it every which way, and every bit of pain makes him grown into your pussy.

while logan’s mouth is busy, wade’s is free to talk as much shit as possible. his hands roam all over your body, grabbing, gripping, pinching, pulling at your skin possessively. he takes two handfuls of your tits, nips at your neck, and keeps your legs pinned down with his own.

“is wolvie treating your little cunny good, honey? yeah, pull his hair, he likes that. oh shut up, grandpa, i know you do. i thought i owned that pussy but it looks like she’s a greedy one.”

logan tries his absolute hardest to tune wade out and focus on making you feel good, but it’s hard when wade ropes him into his dirty talk.

“once he lets you finish, we’re takin’ you to paris, babygirl. eiffel towered by wolverine and deadpool? this is fanfiction material right here.”

“put your fingers in her, peanut. rub that special spot in there and she’ll scream. i bet you can make her squirt, too. you’re gonna be a good girk and squirt all over daddy’s face, right? please, angel, do it for me. i wanna see him all wet and messy.”

logan isn’t a big fan of wade ordering him around, but his advice is pretty good, because you do end up gushing all over logan’s face.

[strawburrymeadows]

working at an ice cream shop is so fun because you know all those fanfiction tropes about ice cream shops?

yeah most of those are true.

we’ve had a coworker romance (one of them quit but the other still works there).

a couple was once making out around the corner of our shack, which was still very much visible from the order window.

and tonight an employee from the restaurant across the street came to get an order for his coworkers, and my manager genuinely considered asking for a trade for food (we both weren’t hungry, so we decided against it).

but yeah. it’s very interesting. only one we haven’t had is the employee-customer meet cute but. thats often hard to do in the middle of scooping ice cream.

[selene-ella]

"Relics of the Past"

Pair: Qimir×female!reader

Summary: you shared the beginning of your journey with him. You were his ride or die, until life choices separated you. He remained to walk on the dark and you walked the middle one.

Warnings: improper use of the force, allusions to intimacy and nudity

Notes: English is not my first language and this is the first piece of fanfiction I ever posted so enjoy!

Part II , Part III , Part VI(final)

The memories of him lingered, impossible to forget. How could you? Pain and shared experiences had etched themselves into your very being. Days like this, when your quest led you to relics of the past, resurrected those feelings.

You stood before a collection of artifacts from the Old Republic era: ancient manuscripts, data holocrons, and one peculiar item. The scavenger, a dubious character with a knack for extracting credits, eyed you as you assessed the treasures.

“How much for all of them?” you demanded, your voice firm.

He scratched his chin, feigning uncertainty. “These, uh... how do you say in your language.. ah, rare items—5000 credits.”

His lack of credibility amused you. “5000 credits for some scrolls and dust covered metals!?"

“Business is business,” he replied, undeterred. “For you, 4500. Final offer.”

You take a look again at all of them, trying to figure out which one could bring you the most use. "What about that one?” you asked, pointing.

"Ha, that one... ehh it's useless. It doesn't work. Not turning on, ehh...broken I think yeah." He said while slamming the metal piece on the counter.

"I'll give you 300 credits for it" you make your offer.

He hesitates to give a response.

“Well, you did call it useless. So 300 is my last offer" you tapped your fingers on the counter.

" Fine, 300. But don’t blame me if it’s a scam.”

As he turned away to collect your payment, you deftly concealed one of the scrolls in your robes. “I’m in a hurry,” you quipped. “Consider it payment for the entertainment.”

With a chuckle, you left the alien scavenger behind, happy with your purchases.

Back aboard your ship, you left both acquisitions on a small table before heading to the cockpit. The coordinates punched in, you exited the planet’s atmosphere and slipped into hyperspace. Your attention returned to the two objects—the old scroll and the secrets it held.

Years ago, you and Qimir had scoured the galaxy for these ancient Sith relics. Clues were scarce, hidden and those who knew bout them were either dead or hiding. Some relics had been seized by the Jedi Council, while others lay buried in forgotten temples on distant, obscure planets.

As you scanned the inscriptions on the aged paper, your ship’s autopilot guided you to your destination. You stowed the relics in a small leather pouch next to your lightsabers—the familiar weight of purpose and history.

The place hadn’t changed: the cool ocean breeze, the salty tang of water mingling with damp soil. You navigated the rocky shore, wondering if Qimir’s hideout remained where it once was. The air was fresh, and the memories fresher still.

Then, the unmistakable hum of a lightsaber reached your ears. You followed the sound, drawn inexorably toward the lone figure training on the cliffside. Qimir. It had been four, maybe five years since you last saw him.

The wind whipped your hair and robes into a trail behind you as you approached. But you got too close—dangerously close. His blade materialized inches from your face, and you instinctively parried with your armored forearm.

“Still wearing the armor?” he quipped, lowering the hilt of his lightsaber.

“It hits pretty hard when you want to smack a nasty bounty hunter,” you retorted.

“Still a scavenger, I see,” he remarked, stepping back.

“Part-time relics collector,” you corrected.

“Well collector, care to join me in a fight? Or are you too scarred you’ve lost your spark?” he asked.

You drew your saber, assuming a battle stance. “Who? Me? The only thing here without a spark is your lightsaber.”

The clash began—a dance of blades. His malfunctioning weapon met your cortosis armor, and the Force became your ally. “Who’s out of spark now?” you taunted.

His red blade regained its power and answered with a powerful strike. You fought fiercely, but perhaps you’d lost some edge over the years. Cornered between rocks, you pushed him back with the Force, then drew your second saber. Three blades intersected dangerously close to his neck.

“That wasn’t fair,” he grumbled, lying on the rocky ground.

“Maybe I had an advantage” You extended your hand. “And since when are you interested in fairness?”

He accepted your help, rising to his feet. “You could have killed me.”

“I know you,” you replied. “That would be impossible.”

His eyes lingered on your white-bladed lightsabers. “Our ways are far apart.”

You remained silent, watching him shove some belongings back into his bag.

He turned away, but you caught up.

“What brings you here after all this time?” His back remained stubbornly turned.

“This!” You pulled out the scroll—the relic you’d taken from the scavenger.

“What’s that?” Curiosity laced his voice.

“We searched for it years ago. One of the Sith relics—supposed to unlock more pathways to the dark side of the Force.”

Your gaze is still fixed on the relic. “I had no time to decipher it.”

Qimir’s eyes bore into yours. “Where did you find it?”

You stepped closer, examining the ancient parchment once more. “Some outer rim trash heap of a planet. A peculiar character peddling these items as pricey rarities.”

“Why did you get it?” His question cut through the air, sharp and direct.

You hesitated. The dark side no longer held sway over you; you’d broken free from its grip. Now, you considered yourself an unaligned Force user—no allegiances, no rules except your own. “I got a good price for them,” you replied, evading the truth.

He hummed, placing the scroll among his scattered belongings. You turned away, drawn to the artifacts and tiny objects he seems to have collected as well.

As you stood there, the scroll nestled among Qimir’s belongings, he traced its edges with his finger. The Force whispered secrets to him—the ancient ink, the forgotten symbols. But deeper still, he sensed your presence, your return.

"Why had you sought out this relic? Was it merely about obtaining a good price, or did it carry another purpose?" Qimir’s mind spun possibilities. Perhaps you wanted to reconnect—with him, with memories long buried beneath the weight of time and choices.

He turned toward you, eyes narrowing as if seeking answers in your expression. But you remained elusive, your intentions veiled. The old companion who had once walked the precipice now stood before him, and the scroll held more than its cryptic inscriptions—it held the promise of something unfinished.

"It- ...we spent a lot of resources and energy trying to get at least one of them back then. I figured it would be of use to you still"

"How’s your power?” Qimir asked, accentuating the last word.

“Of pretty good use for what I do,” you replied, setting down the small metal cup you were holding. “Getting into people’s heads was never easier.”

He stepped closer, the air charged with tension. “That… or…”

“Or?” you prompted, your pulse quickening.

“No one is presenting a challenge to you?” he continued.

“Not gonna do it,” you answered firmly.

“Why?” He moved past you, taking a seat on his bed.

“You were always asking me to get into your head for all the wrong reasons,” you said, sadness tingeing your tone.

“I wanted to test my strength,” he replied nonchalantly, chewing on some fruits placed on a near table.

“You were torturing yourself, Qimir,” you whispered.

“Oh maker, you’ve gotten even softer than when you left me,” he laughed.

Your anger flared. “And you remained the same—stuck deep in your pain and past!” Silence followed, heavy as the memories that bound you.

“You’ve never offered me a real chance to test my abilities,” you continued. “It was all for your gain—to access your deepest emotions and use them to harness the power of the dark side.”

Yes, you had softened. In your eyes, conquering your past, pain, and fears meant no longer tethering yourself to the dark side. It didn’t weaken you; it set you free.

“Don’t try to turn this against me,” he retorted. “If I was such a menace, I wouldn’t have let you go.”

You closed the gap, your hand finding its way to his face, brushing strands of hair behind his ear. He leaned into your touch, arms encircling your waist.

He looked up at you. “So… not even once? For the good old times?”

Your fingers traced down to his temple, cheek, and partially rested on his parted lips. “This looks like another win for you.”

His voice was muffled by your hand. “But you won against me earlier.”

“You can’t remember your past?”

“It’s more exciting when you’re involved.” His hands slipped past your robes, finding the small patch of skin you’d exposed on your back.

He used to ask you to slip into his mind, amplifying whatever he felt tenfold. It helped him connect with raw emotions and harness the Force’s power—a skill that cost you your Jedi Knight title and led to your expulsion from the order.

“It depends on how it’s used,” you murmured. “Bright corners of the mind, holding our light, peacful emotions or the corners of the datkest and deepest desires.”

“I knew you’d do it,” he exhaled, your hand supporting his neck. You glimpsed recent memories: fights, betrayal, murder, his apprentice.

He was annoyed. “You’ve found someone eager to learn your ways, I see.”

“Useless,” he scoffed. “Betrayed me and then ran away.” Your pulse raced.

He longed for someone to learn from him, to face their deepest darkness. It had started with you, but you were different—an equal, not an apprentice.

He removed your robe, pooling it at your feet. “Why so much clothing?”

“It’s windy on Arvala-7. Sand gets everywhere.” He remained silent.

You gently pushed him back onto the bed. In moments like these, you held the upper hand—the only person he felt safe surrendering to.

“Shall I continue, then?” Your lips hovered inches from his.

“Please,” he breathed.

You delved past surface emotions. He felt lonely, lost. His apprentice was just a tool.

The Force pulsed between you, a current of memories and unspoken longing. You had held back, wary of what lay beneath your calm demeanor. But Qimir sensed it all—your hesitations, your buried desires. Your minds were entwined, bound by shared history and unfinished business.

Breaking the kiss, he studied your face. “Still afraid?” His voice held a mix of challenge and invitation.

He was right. You feared the floodgates—the rush of emotions that threatened to drown you both. Yet, here you were, drawn to him after all this time.

His scarred skin cradled your touch as your fingers slipped fully under his shirt. The fabric yielded, revealing the contours of muscle and vulnerability. His breath hitched, and you felt the tremor—the awakening of dormant feelings.

“No need to hide from me,” he murmured against your lips. “Let yourself go.”

And in that moment, you surrendered—to the Force, to him, to the memories that surged forth. Desires resurfaced, amplified by the connection you shared. The past and present collided, and you wondered if this reunion was salvation or damnation.

But there was no turning back. Not when his lips met yours once more, hungry and insistent, and the Force whispered promises of both ecstasy and reckoning.

You used to do this in the past, whenever he felt lonely. It sometimes translated to real intimate connection, but the feelings behind it were never spoken about.

His room's stone walls whispered secrets, and the air hung heavy with memories. Qimir's lips tasted of insight—a blend of determination and vulnerability—as they met yours. The kiss was a collision of past and present, a bridge between your minds.

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer. The texture of his scarred back against your fingertips was both rugged and tender. His breath hitched, and you felt the tremor—the awakening of dormant feelings.

"Still afraid of what might lay underneath your calm demeanor?" he murmured, lips brushing yours.

You leaned into him, your heart echoing the rhythm of shared history. "Maybe I'm afraid of what it means," you confessed, your voice a fragile thread."

His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, mapping each part of it. "We were bound," he said, his gaze intense. "By choices."

"Choices," you agreed, your pulse racing. "Only choices?"

His kiss deepened, and the Force surged—a tempest of desire and danger. You shifted, aligning your bodies—the electric tension pulling you together. His heartbeat synced with yours, and you wondered if this reunion was salvation or damnation.

His other hand slid up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair. "Fate's pull," he whispered against your mouth. "We're suspended between past and present."

You surrendered—to the taste of insight, the touch of connection. His lips, like whispered secrets, traced forgotten paths across your skin. “What do you want?” he asked, voice rough yet tender.

"Answers," you replied, your arms winding around his neck. "Redemption."

His lips found your pulse point, and you gasped. "And me?" he murmured, teeth grazing your skin.

"You," you confessed, "after all these years, I find myself back here."

Qimir pulled you into his lap, the weight of unshared words settling between you. “So it is me,” he mused. “Who would travel all this way for an old piece of paper?”

Your head rested on his shoulder, mind racing. You didn’t need much to understand your purpose—the pull of fate was undeniable. “I oftentimes regret leaving you,” you whispered, “but these years served me well. I have my own path now.”

He inhaled your scent, fingers digging into your lower back, drawing you impossibly closer. Vulnerability had always been his armor, but this moment held a different kind of surrender.

“I searched for you,” he exhaled, “in those I sought to mold into my pupils. Yet, you eluded me.”

“You looked for the wrong kind of companions,” you murmured, brushing your lips against his. “Maybe.”

He cupped your face, eyes intense. “Are you leaving soon?”

“No,” you said, examining the cut on his forearm. “By the looks of it, you’ve tangled with something significant. I’ll stay—for a while.” Your smile held promises of healing, and new shared battles.

[jade-len]

wait was it you that made a cishet guy read svsss and he kept saying a bunch of gay shit? how's that going

lmao yeah that's me. i lowkey forgot about giving updates lol (and got a bit scared because he was a little too close to finding this account), but he finished it a while back already!

i'll just provide some key thoughts and things here:

he was traumatized by the maigu ridge incident and had to skim that section. hated lbh for like a day but then began to self project onto him, sooo

kins luo binghe. heavily.

favorite character is shang qinghua. he's a proud moshang shipper

made an ao3 account just to read locked svsss fanfiction (he swore he'd never touch that site)

his favorites are "Pride Is Not The Word Im Looking For" and "Tarnished Gold"

wants to make a fanfic where sqq adopts sha hualing after the invasion, teaches her morals, and becomes a girl dad ??? "gay son (lbh) or thot daughter (shl)?" "both."

dream place is at bai zhan peak. he has a bai zhan gym routine. i will not elaborate.

"hates" svsss and me for tricking him into reading it but we all know he loves it (and me)

"WHY IS BINGQIU FUCKING EVERY OTHER CHAPTER" -him reading the extras

says he'll strangle me if he ever finds out what my account is and the site/app i've been using to showcase his torment.

overall he really likes and enjoys it. he's like, the only irl person i can actively talk to about sv and will reciprocate the convo. svsss actually made us way closer and better friends! so thanks mxtx for creating bonding material!

⬆️ him coping abt his love life through bingmei

edit: btw sorry to some of you guys who were expecting us to get into a homosexual relationship lmfao (im a third wheel to his very straight feelings for a woman)

[angel-sweets666]

Cast me spell

Barbarian bakugo x witch afab reader

warning : smut

part 2

read part one here first before reading this, then it will make more sense

a/n I’ve heard your prayers and I’m writing part 2 bc I’ve been asked to. I genuinely didn’t think this fanfiction would actually be good to read bc I don’t think I’m a good writer but some people like it and I’m going to try and get better. I downloaded grammarly so I could get better at writing for you guys

You slept well that night, cradled in the arms of a certain blonde barbarian. Bakugo kept you safe as you lay on his chest, his hand tangled in your hair. You whined softly and buried your face into his broad chest, his skin scattered with scars. Carefully, you traced the marks with your fingers. "Can I try something?" you asked softly, looking up at him with big doe eyes. "Yeah, go ahead, darlin'," he replied groggily, his voice raspy and deep. Your index finger began to glow as you pressed it against a scar that stretched across his chest. Suddenly, the scar began to glow around the edges and slowly closed up, starting from the left side and moving to the right. Bakugo watched in awe. Witches could do magical things, but he didn’t think they could do this! He looked down at his chest, then back up at you. "How did you do that?" he asked, puzzled. You snickered and placed your head back down on his chest. "Magic…" you murmured.

Bakugo accepted your answer and stared up at the ceiling. The silence was comforting, not awkward at all. He rubbed your back soothingly, occasionally tugging softly at the ends of your hair. He smiled down at you and kissed your forehead. "So… will you take me up on my proposal?" he asked.

"Didn't I already answer that?" you replied.

"I want an answer when you're not all sexed up, a sober answer," he said, his voice serious.

"Oh… then… yes, I will marry you." It felt like a big step to be honest, but to him, this was completely normal. It was a part of his culture. Perhaps it was strange, but this was what he knew. Maybe you could understand him better if you did this? You reached up to play with a lock of his blonde hair. It was soft, but it was clear he didn’t take great care of it as you picked pieces of dirt from it, probably from all his time at war and hunting.

"You will…?" he asked, needing to be sure.

"Yes, I will." His face lit up and he grabbed your waist, suddenly standing and spinning you around. You squealed in excitement, wrapping your arms around him for security. He slowly placed you back on your feet. "Sorry…" he murmured.

Many preparations were made for the wedding of the future chief. After this marriage, Bakugo's parents could step down, allowing Bakugo to step up. Becoming the chief was a big deal to him since it was all he was expected to be; it was what he was raised to be. Knowing that it was so close was… scary to him. He would have many responsibilities, and so would you. He was expected to be strong for his tribe, to protect them and keep them in line. You were expected to cast spells for the tribe because you're a witch, in addition to fulfilling the usual expectations of a spouse to a chief.

The day of the wedding arrived with the tribe bustling with excitement and activity. The air was filled with the sound of drums and chanting, a rhythmic melody that echoed through the forest. Colorful banners and decorations made from woven fabrics and wildflowers adorned the central clearing where the ceremony would take place.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the area , you stood at the edge of the clearing, dressed in a traditional gown made from soft, flowing materials and adorned with intricate beadwork and feathers. , your fingers tingling with the familiar hum of your magic.

Bakugo stood at the center of the clearing, dressed in ceremonial garb that highlighted his powerful physique. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, he looked angry most days however his gaze held a softness meant only for you.

The tribe’s shaman, an elderly woman with wise eyes and a staff decorated with charms and bones, began the ceremony. She spoke in the ancient language of the tribe. As she chanted, the flames of the central bonfire danced higher, casting flickering shadows around the clearing.

You stepped forward, guided by a gentle push from the shaman’s assistant. Bakugo extended his hand, and you took it, feeling the rough calluses of a warrior against your soft skin. Together, you walked to the center, where the shaman held a bowl filled with sacred herbs and oils.

With a nod from the shaman, you and Bakugo knelt before the fire. She anointed your foreheads with the oils, muttering incantations . The flames flaring brightly and then settling into a steady, calming glow.

Next, she handed you a small, intricately carved knife. With steady hands, you made a small cut on Bakugo’s palm, and he did the same to yours. You pressed your palms together, allowing your blood to mingle—a symbol of your unity and shared strength. The shaman wrapped your hands in a strip of cloth, binding the wound and sealing your bond.

As the final words of the ceremony were spoken, the tribe erupted in cheers. Bakugo leaned in and pressed a fierce, tender kiss to your lips, sealing your union. For the rest of the evening, the tribe feasted and danced, sharing stories and laughter under the starlit sky. You and Bakugo remained close, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist.

you showed the tribe witch craft, potion making and doing spells, but the night of the wedding was mostly partying and drinking, youyou and bakugo stayed sober however. You two spent most that time dancing and leaning on each other, cuddling and kissing. Even after knowing each other for such a short time you seemed to be happily in love. The night was over before you knew it and you two were walking back to your hut, he couldn’t keep his hands off you the whole walk there. His hands groping you, your face turning pinker with each grab and caress. The moment you were inside of your tent and in your own space he picked you up by the under arm and threw you on the bed “why are you so pink? This is was spouses do on their wedding night~” he leaned down and kissed your neck, you whimpered and grabbed his hair. The space between your legs feeling a familiar warmth or… wetness..? He grabbed your thighs and massaged them with each kiss and suck of your neck, he left purple hickeys all around the side of your neck. He reached down between your legs “already so wet huh..?” He slowly got down on his knees, sitting himself right between your legs “want me to keep going..?” He asked “mhm…” you nodded, giving him consent. Bakugo pulled you by your hips towards his face, licking your clit softly. You moaned and grabbed the bed sheets under you, he managed to slip his tongue inside which only intensified the feeling. Bakugo used his hands to keep your legs apart, the buldge in his pants getting larger and larger. He began to get impatient and stood up, pulling away from your pussy “hey… why’d you stop..?” You whines before he slipped a finger inside “wanna… be inside you” he grumbled, you moaned softly at the finger wiggling inside of you “is that good…?” Bakugo cooed to you “mmmph.. nghh.. y-yea…” you reached down and gripped his wrist. Feeling him slip a second finger into your hole, you held tightly onto his wrist. He slowly pulled his hand out and stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting you on them. “Good girl, that’s a good girl.. tell me when it hurts” and before you know it, bakugo had the tip of his dick at your already wet hole and was slowly pushing inside, he groaned and laid his head on your chest. Gripping your thighs tighter with each inch that was sinking inside you, he bottomed out and he paused to catch his breath. Bakugo pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into your pussy, you moaned loudly and buried your face into his shoulder in a attempt to muffle out the loud noise of your voice, the huts don’t exactly drown out loud noise… he put his hands over your head for balance, the bed shook with each thrust and he was grunting lowly ontop of you “is that good…? That’s what I thought” he smirked and pet your hair “my wife..” he leaned down to kiss your head “ good girl..take it like a good girl” he pressed his forehead against yours as he continued his deep thrusts into you, the pleasure resulting in moans and grunts from you two. After what felt like hours of teasing and pleasure, the knot finally snapped. He buried his cock deeply inside you and then came. He panted softly, bringing you to his chest “you did so good, I’m so proud..”