Got addicted to yet another sports anime uhhh anyway love me some point guards! :D

Different POVs In Writing

POV - Short for Point Of View, meaning that the audience is experiencing a story from the perspective of a specific person or outside entity; they are part of the story in one way or another

• 1st Person POV - Experiencing a story from the perspective of the main character. Pronouns will be I, me, my, mine, etc

• 2nd Person POV - Experiencing a story from your own perspective as if you were a character within the story. Pronouns will be you, your, yours, etc. Stories are rarely written from this perspective outside of Choose Your Own Adventure style stories

• 3rd Person POV - Experiencing a story from an outside perspective. No personal pronouns will be used for you, but other characters will be referred to as he, she, they, it, etc

• 4th Person POV - Experiencing a story through a collective perspective. Pronouns include we, us, someone, anyone, etc. I’ve never seen a story written from this perspective. Fourth person perspective is mostly used in livestreams, in which the chat forms a non-specific collective presence that are all addressed as one

im going insane here but kirishima with his resting bitch face gf who turns into the cutest little doll when he’s around :( ‘let me fix your shirt for you’ ‘here, let me top up your lip gloss’ ‘want me to feed you baby? yeah, of course you do’ and it’s soo embarrassing for you because you usually like to do everything yourself, you hate being talked down to, hate to be babied but kirishima spoils you sososo much and you just let him. cause he’s kirishima and he’s the only one who’s a sturdy enough presence in your life to rein you in.

‘just let me do it for you baby, i know you want to be taken care of.’ UGH

Just a reminder that this blog IS dark content friendly 👍🏻

Shouji, Izuku, Kirishiman, Sero, Fumikage, Toshinori, and Shouto

"I miss you" is not enough. Send a video of you fucking a fleshlight moaning my name so I know it's real 😞

the "gifted kid" to "likes being called stupid in a sexual way" pipeline

this is genuinely hilarious, bc old ladies love him canonically

“what a great strong young man, we need to feed him immediately 💪”

Sucking on Nanami’s fingers while being sat in his lap, his fingers curled into your wet pussy with his thumb toying with your little clit. Drawing the cutest moans and whimpers past your lips as he whispers little praises into your ear. Kissing your neck softly with little hums of his own as you slumped against him in shaky cries.

“That’s it sweet girl, taking my fingers so well. Let it out sweetheart, let it all out…”

thinkin abt shoto and his alt girl. you know, the one who turns his world upside down, their lives so different yet paralleled. he was the only one in his life who wasn’t surprised when he fell head over heels for the girl with piercings and ripped jeans instead of floral perfume and tight pencil skirts.

shoto and his alt girl who doesn’t care about money or social status; she says it’s hard to care about things she’s never had much of. she isn’t enamored by his hero ranking or the people he’s surrounded by. she’s most enamored by him - pretty, strong, and kind - every bit the hero the media makes him out to be and more.

shoto and his alt girl whose face is rarely done up, and he loves her that way. he thinks she’s beautiful every day of the week; her makeup doesn’t change that, and she knows it. most days, she’d rather spend her mornings in messy braids and worn out band tees, drinking coffee next to him than on dolling herself up only to wipe it off later. shoto’s alt girl who sometimes does a little bit for him anyways because she sees the way he stares at her eyes, how he drinks in the bold lip colors that adorn her smile when she’s up for it.

shoto who listens to his alt girl ramble about the things she really cares for as he runs his fingers through her hair, whether it’s romance novels or video games, or perhaps something deeper in herself. he carefully laces up her worn out sneakers and leather boots, plays with the fraying of her jeans and the hem of her skirts when she lets him, runs his fingers along the smoothness of her tights. shoto who loves her thigh highs and short dresses because he knows they’re just for him. he helps her with those pesky fishnets so he can stare at her thighs and leave a trail of kisses behind.

shoto’s alt girl who doesn’t care what the media wants her to be - she’s unapologetically herself, and he loves that about her. even when the world tells her to be less of this and more of that, it’s rare that she truly gives in. he sees the sides of her no one else does - the soft, gentle parts she’s not always quick to show. the world doesn’t hear the way she cries out his name when he holds her close at night. they don’t see the way she clings to his frame, digs her nails into his back, turns to putty in his hands with a few tender words. they don’t know the way she loves him, wholly and completely, imperfect though he may be.

just shoto and his alt girl, the one he swears he’ll never let go of… and proves it every day for the rest of his life.

inspired by izu’s alt girl by @dcsiremc

Victor Nizovtsev

Inexperienced!Choso who looks down at your as you spread your legs for him, wondering what he should do, but too timid to ask you for himself. His cheeks burn red as he stares, so intently that it has you suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

“Choso…” you pout, your delicate hand caressing his face and you smile. As if reading his mind, you take his bigger hand in yours and place it on your thigh. “Just touch me, anything you do will feel good.”

Inexperienced!Choso who all of a sudden isn’t so inexperienced once he gets the hang of you, taking a mental note of all the spots that have you squirming and moaning under him, his fingers moving in and out of you so fast it had you had your head spinning.

His digits filled you so nicely, fit inside you so perfectly it was uncanny. Your noises spurred him on, making him feel warm and his cock hardened in his sweats.

Inexperienced!Choso who makes you cum with his fingers faster than anyone you’ve ever slept with, pride shining on his face as you look up at him with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. But once he had a chance—a taste—he couldn’t stop.

Inexperienced!Choso who shyly begins to rut himself against your leg, a silent plea to take you. And you nod, not knowing what you signed yourself up for.

Inexperienced!Choso whose pace is fucking inhuman as he drives his girthy cock into you, even when he’s moaning and whimpering in your ear—and suddenly you feel like the inexperienced one.

Here's me! @bakubunny couldn't make myself bald tho 😭

Starting new picrew bc I find this one super cute and pretty so lets go! LINK

No pressure tag @wyvernslovecake @bby-deerling @nina-ya @ringdabel @im-stuck-in-fandom-hell and everyone who wants to join! 💛

i support all dark content writers and artists and readers and enjoyers; i don’t have to love everything that you love to respect you and to have your back.

          — 爆 豪 勝 己.

Don’t mind me, I’m just objectifying old men again.

𝐂𝐖 ✦ musings about grief, wlw. that’s really it. this was sitting in my drafts because i thought nobody would care about it but fuck it we ball.

You think about her in those quiet, happy moments. Like when your coffee is perfectly warm, or when the sky turns a particular shade of orangey pink. Not when you’re exhausted, or when you’re having a bad day, but when everything feels decidedly okay.

Grief is funny that way.

In every moment of contentment it’s like Nobara is right there with you, but just out of reach. When you try on a pair of jeans that hug your hips perfectly and you feel the urge to throw the fitting room door open to show her. Or when you’re sitting in a restaurant and overhear the table next to you discussing how so-and-so got too drunk and kissed so-and-so despite the fact that he’s so-and-so’s boyfriend, and you can’t help but snicker as if she’s there to snicker with you.

Or when your sheets are freshly washed and warmed by your body, soft on your bare legs and the back of your hand, and for one fleeting moment you swear you can feel her fingers lacing into yours. But when you open your eyes she won’t be there. Her hair won’t be splayed out on the pillow she’s claimed as her favorite, and the sleeve of the t-shirt you’d lent her won’t be bunched up awkwardly on her arm from all her tossing and turning. She won’t open her eyes finally and call you a weirdo for watching her sleep with that little smirk on her face. She won’t circle her arm around your lower back and pull you into her, ignoring your giggly protests as she rolls you on top of her and kisses at your jaw.

Memories like these once gave you butterflies. After her death they twisted into something heavy, not fluttery but aching. Now it’s like a mixture of the two. A dull pain and a soft smile.

You miss her, but not like something dead and gone. You miss her like she’s just out of sight, hiding in your peripherals. But when you turn to look at her, she’s ducked into your blind spot again. Out of sight, but always on your mind.

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements