CERAMIC LIPS Just A Little Drabble Of What It Would Be Like If Kirishima Was Into Pottery.

CERAMIC LIPS — just a little drabble of what it would be like if kirishima was into pottery.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. kirishima eijiro x reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. gender-neutral, high school au, no quirks au, fluff, not proofread so beware

kirishima eijiro, the quiet boy in your 6th-period ceramics class.

he has loud buddies, though. you recollect on the time you saw a blonde boy with yellow eyes leap onto his back, closely being pursued by a black-haired boy with awful posture and piercings, and the blonde-haired boy with crimson eyes and a frown craved on his face. you already knew his name from all the times your science teacher seated you two together for a project. you guys work together well she would say.

in here, however, kirishima is all straight face and silent since his friends aren't here to deflect. you know he's mrs urumi's favorite, she's always gloating about his works or peaking over his shoulder.

you didn't want to select ceramics as an elective for your second semester, but since you waited so long your only options were photography or exploration of ceramics. without delay, you picked ceramics.

kirishima was advanced in ceramics, always modeling extract sculptures or heads with intense care. he always looked so in love with his final productions.

while spinning your grossly saturated clay on your potter's wheel, you green-eyed him. you weren't confident if your jealousy was bred by noticing how elegant and diverse his creations came out while you only knew how to make a cock-eyed teacup, or how he cradles the life-size head so gingerly while enhancing details on its gray lips. His crimson eyes possess so much tenderness and warmth in them.

so much love and...

and your feet slowly add more pressure on the foot pedal the more you gawk at him. eventually, it builds a lanky, clay tentacle that was spiraling from the acceleration of the wheel it dangled on. the clay tentacle sprinkles portions of itself onto other tables —causing them to groan in annoyance— and attaches slivers of sludge onto your apron.

your teacher shrieks, yelling at you to stop the wheel, jerking you out of your trance. you lifted your foot from the pedal and watch your limp, mud tentacle slowly swirl to a break.

the girls in the corner giggle at you, though they're the ones all blemished in scars of clay. you feel the temperature rise in the room when you sense a pair of red eyes flick at you. Maybe photography could've fitted you better than this shitshow.

unbeknownst to you, he grins and continues working on his piece. he might look like he's in love with his work, but this personal piece has his heart beating out of his chest.

IT'S YOUR FUNERAL — your assaulter believes you're fucking around when you say you'll go get your boyfriend. It's his funeral.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. k. bakugo x reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. assault, reader kinda fits in the damsel in distress role, katsuki knocking them out, gender-neutral, not proof-read, re-uploaded

When you shouted to the man who was currently attempting to squeeze your waist, the loud music drowned out your voice. Your words only became apparent when you pushed his hands away and salacity-filled eyes connected to those of your more adamant ones.

"Hm? What d'ya say, baby?" You shivered upon hearing the nickname he gave you.

"I said to leave me alone," you yelled again.

"Uh-huh?" he grins, finding your discomfort extremely amusing, "you want me to leave you alone?"

Firstly, you responded by asserting yes, but after some consideration, you decide that including, or else, is necessary.

When his head falls to his shoulder, he says, "or else what, baby? Whatchu gonna do if I don't?"

Frumpily, you reply, "I'll get my boyfriend."

"You'll go get your boyfriend?" He smirks, "where is he then?"

You point behind yourself at your golden-headed brute, decked in his finest. That would be some baseball cap and jeans adorned with a red wives-beater showcasing his enlarged biceps. "See him? He's got blonde hair. You can't miss it."

Unfortunately to your attacker, he does. He views you as pointing at the smaller, scrawnier blonde boy, with latte eyes rather than the much larger, bulkier, and crimson-eyed one he's talking to. The grin on his face only beams from knowing he would win if a fight broke loose because of his size and strength.

"Go ahead and get 'em, babe," He licks his lips as he anticipates victory, "I wanna talk."

Rolling your eyes at him, you contemplate how dumb and wacky he must be, but you keep that to yourself. Under the tinted lights, you see the aggressor's eyes watching you squeeze past sweaty bodies that flashed purple to blue and settles on pink before it shortly resets the rotation again.

As you catch how his eyes appear to magnify with uneasiness and how he clenches his jaw tight as you steer towards the larger blondie, you observe how he displays skepticism. Despite this, he holds firm.

From the corner of his eye, Kasuki notices you shakily emerging from the dancing bodies with a grimace glued on your profile. With a scowl on his face, he stares at you. "What's wrong?"

"Katsuki, some dude keeps trying to touch me," you whine, pointing to the guy who remains awkward in the middle of the dance floor. His stance reminds you of the stand you would take in front of your asleep parents to alarm them that you had vomited just moments ago. "He wanted to talk to you when I told him to leave me alone."

In response, Kaminari, the assailant assumed to be your boyfriend, whistles before smoothly vacating to bother Kirishima, as he does not want to be caught in Katsuki's wrath which occasionally tends to end up affecting everyone's day.

As Katsuki's eyes follow those of the guy who suddenly turns his attention to the people around him, he deepens his scowl even more. Your arm wraps around the arm of the man who kicks his feet off the wall, moving toward your aggressor. Contrary to you, he has an easy time crossing the dance floor, simply shuffling anybody off with a fuck off who tries to disrupt him.

As Katsuki approaches him further, it's hard not to assume the man is pissing his pants. Despite their similar height, he recognizes that he is standing in front of a fanatical hero who has doomed villains to the slammer half-dead with melted faces. The hero then asks, "Why are you bothering them?" But the man know it's bait to give him a story to fuck him up.

And as you expected, he turns into a little bitch. Although his mouth opens, closes, and opens again, he doesn't say anything. Rather than his randy stare that used to flit from your eyes to your waist, he now looks at you straight in the eye with fear as if he was begging for redemption. You don't grant him that kind of safety.

In the realization that he dug himself into this dilemma and only he can effort to dig himself out, he finally chokes out with his hands raised in the air, "L-Look, I didn't mean— It was a joke! I-I didn't realize they would take it—" before his words are cut short.

Katsuki's glare is venomous, "so you never took a hint after they told you to fuck off multiple times?"

It wasn't until the cold breeze that swept under your hair that you realized Katsuki was directing the man outside the club. Away from onlookers.

You could hear the man's heart drop before eventually, he is. Nevertheless, before that, he spewed out a topsy-turvy mess of "I-I— the music, it was— I couldn't—" before ultimately being clocked out by a fist that linked with his head. He falls backward onto the packs of stuffed garbage bags that end up ripping upon impact.

"Thanks, Katsuki," you say, depositing a stained, red kiss on his cheek.

In the end, Katsuki is content with the fact that the slimeball is sure to leave you alone, despite his irritation with the lack of brawl that the man seemed to be seeking before and was so confident about.

"Just doing my job, princess."

KIND HEARTS — k. bakugo

𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅. Using isolation, you seek to escape a miserable and painful past. However, you meet somebody who might be able to help you cope.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. bear shifter!bakugo x witch!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. the reader is referred to as a witch so female reader, trauma, PTSD, comfort, angst, fluff, the reader is a bit awkward and forward but nonetheless a fucking badass, "smelly lemons" or any other strange named fruit/vegetable mentioned is make-believe, POC friendly, magic au, witch au, 1500s au, enemies to lovers

THE MAN-MADE MAN — BEGINNING (word count: 1k+)

INSTINCTS — MIDDLE

SURVIVAL — END

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (open):

@the-witches-you-couldnt-burn , @osiris1rhi , @skbakusimp, @smashboxgirl26 , @bakucuddles , @esloao , @r-royce , @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore , @izhetttttt , @atsushiki , @gonnafyourmom24-7

𝐓𝐀𝐆:

𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗗 𝗛𝗘♡𝗥𝗧𝗦.𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀

HELLO HELLO!! PLS I LOVE YOUR WRITING AHAHWMSJN I JUST FOUND YOUR ACCOUNT FROM THE “ROOKIE DAD MISTAKES” POST AND I JUST HAD TO FOLLOW YOU AND SAY HI OML <333

🥺🥺🥺🥺 t🥺h🥺a🥺n🥺k y🥺o🥺u 🥺🥺🥺🥺

a/n📓: I seriously can't get mascot!kirishima outta my head

𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅. your boyfriend is on the football team. Your boy-crazed best friend is desperate to know who he is and what position he plays.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. mascot!kirishima x reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. no quirks au/high school football au, no gender revealed, fluff

"—Y/n, you said that your boyfriend's on the team, right?"

Hikotori's unexpected grating voice makes your entire body feel like it's being squeezed for a spilled moment. You huddled tighter into the frosted, metal panel from the bleachers to give you a little space from her. "Huh?"

"I asked if your boyfriend was on the team," gray air escaped from her mouth when she mumbles from beneath her yellow scarf, "but you never told us who. Which one? is it Bakugo Katsuki?"

You took a glance down at the runner-back with blonde hair sticking out of the cavity of his blue helmet. He propelled his way towards the opposite side of the field, toppling the protestors that clung to him. You cuddled your coat closer into you, unsure whether or not it was from him or a brush of cold air.

"No, he's too aggressive." The referee blows his whistle that catches the player's attention. He just only has to lift one arm in a sealed fist for all hell to let loose.

"Too aggressive? So, what about Sero— Or Denki? It takes a minute to light a fire under their asses." She speaks.

Your eyes don't leave the scene unfolding but you eye how the two wide receivers, lanky and all, try to aim to prevent a man who's built like a bull from chancing to berate the referee, shouting something amongst the lines of, "how the hell was that a foul— I didn't touch him!" while the poor referee whistles his lungs out. It's a mess.

"Mm-em," you shook your head.

"Then who is it? Midoriya?" she sighed, surrendering. "He's cute but isn't he dating that girl in graphic designs?"

You don't even give the green-haired boy a single glimpse. Your attention is arrested by your school mascot parading to the music concerning your school's band, unbeknownst to the chaos happening behind him. "Nope."

Your school mascot is a red bear with a round head and round ears. His name is Gnarl, Gnarl the Blushing Bear. He has two black dots as his eyes and a cute cat-like smile. He had only a large striped blue and white jersey that had a design that looked like an "A" displaced in the middle. This was a gloss for innocent. The rest of his body, however, is decked out of stuffed muscles to give it a "don't-fuck-with-me-or-my-crew" kind of vibe. It wasn't the bear that controlled your thoughts, however, it was the man inside it.

"Nope as in, I'm not dating him OR he's not dating Uruaka?"

You let Hikotori's words be left in the air, ignoring her frantic pleads for the rest of the tournament.

When the game expired with UA devouring Shiketsu High School in points. You don't waste a moment on it though, hustling gingerly down the aluminum steps so Hikotori couldn't notice you while she talked to her other friends. While the team is rejoicing, you take a shift into the boy's locker room. The room is empty until an enormous silhouette cast's upon you. "You shouldn't be in here," the voice announced.

You turn around his a big grin. Gnarl the bear decapitates himself, but what comes after he was beheaded is a beautiful red-haired man inside it. Kirishima is so saturated in sweat that even his signature hairstyle remains nearly unrecognizable, but with his face being red, he sports a sharp grin from ear to ear that you can identify.

You walk up to him, "you did good today," you say, planting your hands on his shoulders, "why aren't you celebrating with them?"

He shrugs, "I knew we were gonna win anyway, plus it's so fervent in this suit."

You smiled then leaned in for a kiss. Sure, it might've left a flavor of salt on your lips, but did it matter? Not really, you think.

You just love your boyfriend.

what fandoms should I start writing in or get into??