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thestuffedalligator
There’s always a stuffed alligator
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government funded buildings in the us are unbelievably sad and lacking
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hold on. let me tell you about this irl protagonist i met today.
there’s a new line cook at one of the stores and i go to introduce myself to him. he takes off his glove and shakes his sweaty hand with mine and goes,
“my name’s (so and so) and i’m gonna be your next sous chef!!”
and then waltzes off back into the kitchen while i stand there stunned
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your parents’ fridge has the drawing he made of you and him holding hands at a 6 year old’s rendition of a playground.
reno ichikawa is that younger boy in your neighborhood that follows you everywhere.
#reinas.inretrograde#30 years later. your guys kid comes home with the same exact picture#just this time. there’s a mini between you two
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If only...
(have you catch up with BNHA recently)
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overworked tsukauchi. bro. take a 15 minute break with me in the supply closet. i got you
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you’d make him tamago as an after school snack and years later, the morning after sleeping together, he feeds you tamago for breakfast.
reno ichikawa is that younger boy in your neighborhood that follows you everywhere.
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reno ichikawa is that younger boy in your neighborhood that follows you everywhere.
#reinas.inretrograde#he has a step stool where you scrub the dishes and he rinses them#beside you at every errand your moms make you run#until one day he doesn’t need that step stool anymore. and the feeling of his wet elbow rubbing against yours is no longer endearing but#but something that flusters you.
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based on that tiktok trend
“yo, is that good?”
atsumu’s mid chew as he answers, “hell yeah.”
osamu’s brother cuts a piece of meat and stabs through it. he watches the juices spill out with a watering mouth.
“wanna try?”
he nods, quickly swallowing past his bite.
osamu leans forward to meet atsumu’s offered fork. his tongue meets it first for a taste. the salt and fat spreads across his tongue and down his throat. his salivary glands pool below. and just to fuck with him, osamu’s tongue slides beneath the meat, widening his maw as he uses the muscle to pull it into his mouth.
his eyes flutter. exaggerated for the most part, if his brother asks, he won’t admit it because it’s fucking good. osamu’s eyes look up to meet his brother’s the moment his lips close around his utensil, a smile gracing his lips. he keeps his brother’s disgusted gaze as he chews. he parts his lip, plump and greasy, and wipes the small bit of liquid at the corner of his mouth.
“damn, that is good.”
atsumu throws his fork at him, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
osamu’s only answer is a belly heavy laugh.
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pocket of sunshine
#reinas.inretrograde#feeling normal again#had lunch with my childhood friend. talked about being close to 30. and retirement funds.#but we also did what we’ve done since we were five which is talking about boys and the people we love and our younger siblings
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there’s this image in my mind and i hope yall see it too
but it’s a video of hajime at the gym with his camera set low and he positions himself to squat, bending his knees and ducking his head low, hands pressed underneath the bar, repeating day after day.
one day he’s in sweats and a black tank. another in basketball shorts and his uci tee. airpods. headphones. his seijoh track jacket.
then finally, it’s him at a rave. shorts too short for everyday life, but perfect for tonight. buttons popped to reveal a defined chest. he’s bent in the same position but instead, when the bass drops, he’s lifting you on his shoulders and above the crowd
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oh god stripper samu
#reinas.inretrograde#ty to the person who put it back in my notifs#the draft is… ugh. wish that girl finished it
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there’s this image in my mind and i hope yall see it too
but it’s a video of hajime at the gym with his camera set low and he positions himself to squat, bending his knees and ducking his head low, hands pressed underneath the bar, repeating day after day.
one day he’s in sweats and a black tank. another in basketball shorts and his uci tee. airpods. headphones. his seijoh track jacket.
then finally, it’s him at a rave. shorts too short for everyday life, but perfect for tonight. buttons popped to reveal a defined chest. he’s bent in the same position but instead, when the bass drops, he’s lifting you on his shoulders and above the crowd
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miya osamu x reader who buys fish by the pound off him. who falls in love with you when he finds out you feed his back alley cats
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i had the roughest week at work. like this was the worst week in the past month and i’ve grand opened two store in that time.
but then i stopped by one of our stores and got a chance to say hi to everyone and ask people about their lives and one of them said my outfit was giving california opulence when im only daiso certified and then im hearing the gossip about our next door business neighbors and work is fine again. i love them and im glad that i get to do what i do because it really is all for them.
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cw: gone girl inspired; reader has perfect teeth and is referred to as wife; unreliable narrator
you’re beautiful, idyllic, a picturesque vision of a wife.
isagi looks up at the mantle from his seat in the couch. it’s well loved and morphed to the shape of his ass that he needs to arch his back uncomfortably as he does so.
the blown up image is barely edited. nature has treated you well. just as headlines have said, it’s like the gods handled you with extra care with your pristine smile, white and ruler straight. evolution even is no match for you with every single one of your wisdom teeth still intact.
isagi recalls meeting you outside a cafe in only casual clothes with no idea that anyone would be able to recognize him. you’d congratulated him on his most recent goal, touched his elbow when he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, and then offered to grab him a quick coffee. how could isagi turn you down? so the rest is a history.
a spontaneous encounter that only years down the line, you admit you had carefully devised. but you were so smart, so endearing, saying i was just such a fan, yoichi! you would have never noticed me in a crowd and though you may be (most certainly because you always are) right, isagi would like to think his eyes can always find you. the two of you, he believes and so does the rest of the world, are meant to be.
it’s unnerving how perfect the two of you are that isagi cannot help his thoughts from wandering. how are you real? how are you his? when you smile at him, he wants to unhinge your jaw to inspect your maw tooth by tooth.
how is it that your enamel has not eroded with the acid you spit at him? are these the molars that chew on his ego until it’s whittled down to mush?
he wonders how much blood you’d lose, if iron stains ivory, if he were to pull them out one by one. you don’t scream enough and isagi would love the chance to hear it more often.
“isagi yoichi.” said man’s spine swivels. it’s only then does he realize that his back has gone stiff from its position. he shuffles in his spot from the couch. only now that he’s fully present, does he realize his breath is loud. “answer the question.”
he doesn’t need to fake the quiver in his voice. glancing to your newly married visage, a coldness travels past his body.
“my wife. the last i heard from her was the morning… i was upstairs still in bed when i heard her scream.”
and just like everything else, it was beautiful.
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the way the hem of osamu’s boxer briefs droop because he packs so fucking heavy
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pirate! osamu has a gold molar that you only notice when he’s a little tipsy and lets his smile loose. his has a golden dangly earring that matches his brother’s. he makes his own mead and it tastes like shit but the boys drink it up every night in tankards that kita hollowed and his belt is always buckled one notch too tight and he keeps the knife his mother gifted him tucked at his back, hidden underneath a loose waistcoat. which has deeefinitely come in handy whenever atsumu gets them in… situations
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