@thewanderingkaya / thewanderingkaya.tumblr.com
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INTRO INTRO !!
hii! i'm KAYA .. a 19 yr old who's obssessed with fictional characters ; even aliens..
im okay with spamming , just don't overdo it . (i do it too..)
✘ i can and will block blank blogs , and blogs that are under 18 / have no age .
✘ viewed best in dark mode .
tags
#kayas.writing (my works)
#kayas.blabbering (me talkin)
#kayas.drabbles (small thoughts)
STATUS !!
requests are OPEN . asks are OPEN
request rules
masterlist (in the works)
word count: 4k ish pairing: din djarin x reader a/n: [old timey radio voice] interrupting your regular schedule of bat boy to bring you [does jazz hands] yet another man that could kill u! i will apologise for not updating wtssf and instead giving this but i do not control the brain worms <3 hopefully this is still tasty for sum of y'all ! title from NFWMB by hozier
synopsis: Din gives you an unexpected gift. A dagger crafted with beskar, a fine weapon, a courting gift. You misunderstand. It doesn't take long for you to catch back on. inspired by a convo with my beloved @djarinova
By now, the constant hum and rattle of the Razor Crest around you was nearly unnoticeable.
You travel enough light-years with one stubborn screw in your cot, almost always returning to the spacecraft with one injury or another, and eventually the low lull becomes something more familiar.
Almost, if you'd let yourself admit it, a comfort.
Sleep is funny on the Crest. You'd been a light sleeper for most your life and it had saved your skin more time than you cared to count. Yet, it was the simple knowledge that a Mandalorian roamed in the cockpit above that allowed sleep to drag you deeper than usual.
It had taken months to let your guard down, to realise there wasn't going to be blade buried in your gut as you slumbered defencelessly. In the safety of his company, for the first time in decades, you dream when you sleep.
He hates having to wake you, only doing so if it's absolutely necessary. It's always with the lightest of touches, the leather of his gloves pressing softly against your shoulder, your name murmured and diluted through the modulator of his helmet.
Despite his gentleness, it never stops you from jarring awake.
501st + Fox — search histories
Can you guess who's who? Some of these contain some running gags from the 501st shitposts on my blog.
From left to right: Rex, Hardcase, Fives, Dogma, Kix, Tup, Fox, Jesse
This surely took a while, troopers. Apologies again for the delay! We've compiled every single fanfiction entry to Delta Squad Week 2025 into this masterlist, so here are some points you should pay attention to:
Enjoy 75 FANFICTION ENTRIES brought to you by our very talented writers for DELTA SQUAD WEEK 2025 below the cut.
this is a joke post... okay half-joke
Hunter: the straight woman bait
Echo: the bad takes magnet
Tech: the reason the fix-it fics exist
Wrecker: the underrated one with the most dedicated fanbase
Crosshair: the "i can fix him" character, born sopping wet in a cardboard box
Fives: that one character nobody dislikes
Hardcase: the explanation for whenever something chaotic or random happens in a post
Tup: the soft and sensitive boi
Rex: gets put into every genre of fic, every scenario, every ship under the sun and every AU
Cody: that one character whose tag is 80% ship content
Jesse: placeholder in incorrect quotes
Kix: the nice one
Wolffe: baby's first yandere
Fox: the homicidal one who really likes head scritches and snuggles and being wrapped in a blanket—
>>> Clone Commander Edition
Reaction: Sips. Freezes. Stares into the cup like it betrayed him.
> “…What. Is. In this.”
> His entire personality resets for two seconds. It's caramel. You added caramel. And a lot of it. He glares at you over the rim like you insulted his ancestors, but continues drinking anyway.
> Quietly finishes it. Secretly likes it. You catch him ordering it again two days later — grumbling.
---
Reaction: Confused sip. Soft blink. Emotional damage.
> “…Did you… put marshmallows in my caf?”
> He sounds so betrayed. Stares at the floating puffballs like they’re Sith artifacts. Doesn’t stop drinking it though. Fives is in tears. Rex gets flustered and swears he doesn’t like it, but he definitely does.
> Finds one leftover marshmallow in his cup and stares at it like it holds secrets to the universe.
---
Reaction: Spits it out. Growls. Death glare unlocked.
> “Who. Did. This.”
> You smile. He scowls. The caf was spiked with cinnamon syrup and a dash of glitter sprinkles. He’s furious. His men are terrified. But he still drinks it. All of it. While aggressively maintaining eye contact.
> You are in danger — but it was worth it. He makes you pay next time: black caf, no sweeteners, extra bitter.
---
Reaction: Absolute panic. Suspicion overload.
> “…Why does it taste like happiness? What did you do?”
> Drinks it. Pauses. Glares at the cup. Glares at you. Thinks he’s being set up. Demands to know if this is a prank. When you confess it’s just vanilla syrup, he looks ten years older.
> Drinks the rest in silent judgment. Is secretly touched. But files a complaint anyway.
---
Reaction: Thoughtful sip. Then a full analysis.
> “Hm. I detect notes of hazelnut. And… rebellion.”
> Doesn’t mind. In fact, he goes into full sensory breakdown mode like a caf sommelier. Describes the “flavor profile” with the intensity of a wine critic. > You find out he’s been cataloging every variation of your “experiments.” Kind of loves it.
---
Reaction: Chokes. Coughs. Smiles anyway.
> “What—spice?! Did you put spice in this?!”
> You added a tiny bit of hot sauce. Just to see what would happen. He blinks tears out of his eyes, laughs through it, and calls you “vicious.”
> Finishes the whole cup. Starts sweating. Asks for a second one. You monster.
---
Reaction: Laughs mid-sip and nearly spills it.
> “You tried to sabotage me? Adorable.”
> Finds it hilarious. You swapped his caf with whipped cream and sugar syrup. He drinks it like it’s battle fuel and starts assigning you ridiculous drink names: “Little Miss Sweetshot.”
> Gets you back by replacing your water with caf the next day. It escalates. Quickly.
---
Reaction: Silent. Terrifying. Sips once. Nods.
> “…Acceptable.”
> You spiked it with chocolate. Like, full-blown cocoa-caf. He stares at you. Says nothing. Walks away. You think you’re safe.
> Two days later, your entire bunk is filled with empty caf cups labeled “Sweetner Unit 1.” You’ve been claimed. Somehow.
---
Reaction: Doesn't flinch. Just stares.
>“…Why does it taste like cinnamon frosting?”
> Sips it like it’s a lab sample. Makes direct eye contact. Does not stop drinking. Gives you a 43-second monologue on how sugar affects tactical response.
> You’re unsure if he liked it or is plotting your downfall. He requests it again tomorrow with a note: “Control Group B.”
---
Reaction: Sips. Freezes. Blushes.
> “W-Wait. Is this… strawberry?”
> You turned his caf into a strawberry milk monstrosity. He panics. Fives is screaming. You pat his back and say, “Just a little love.” He nearly combusts. Drinks it anyway.
> Forgets what he was supposed to be doing all day. Later asks, shyly, if you have any more.
Almost all cybertronian names are single-word names (ex. Shockwave, Aftermath, Howlback, Cosmos, Wheelie, Twitch, Aerial) or two-word combinations, normally without a space but sometimes with one (ex. Starscream, Grimlock, Spitfire, Star Saber, Hot Rod). Much more rarely, names can be portmanteaus (puns or not), such as Predaking (Predacon+king) or Airachnid (air+arachnid). And sometimes names are instead word shortenings or elaborarions (ex. Strika from "Strike", Spittor from "Spit", Amalgamous from "Amalgam", Cheetor from "Cheetah", Rhinox from "Rhino", Elita from "Elite"). Word shortening/elaboration names are also often used when naming bots after the Primes — just using the Prime's exact name isn't seen as appropriate, but shortening (ex. Megatron), combining part of it with another word, or elaborating the name make it okay. For example, if you want to name your kid after Optimus Prime, you can't use "Optimus" but "Optima" would be fine.
Most organic species cannot pronounce cybertronian words, so they usually translate their names. On Earth almost all names are rendered in English, but some, mostly the ones that are Old Cybertronian, are commonly rendered in Latin instead, for style (ex. Dai Atlas, Optimus Prime). Optimus Prime also prefers the Latin translation because he doesn't want to tell people to call him "Best First". Extremely rarely, bots might also combine two different languages such as Lightningwing who goes by "Blitzwing" while on Earth because he likes the word 'blitz' better, and Road Emperor and Lion Emperor, who use "Road Caesar" and "Liokaiser" — but that's often viewed as an classless attempt to be special or fancy.
Speaking of animals and other things that present difficulty for translating names; in case of animal names (ex. Bumblebee, Hound, Wasp), Cybertronians tend to label the animal from their planet with the name of an animal from the alien planet that has a similar appearance/behavior/associations; If a bot was named after a star or a constellation, their name will be translated as the name the aliens they interact with have given to the star/constellation (ex. Orion, Optimus Prime's birth name).
If a name doesn't fall into any of these categories (ex. Lyzak, Leozak, Jhiaxus, Solus, Quintus, Straxus), it propably comes from some language other than Cybertronian or Old Cybertronian. Often, the bots involved do not actually know what the name in question means, and instead try to approximate the sound. Or if it sounds like letters, it might be the bot's initials (ex. Arcee = R. C. = Red Charger).
Cybertronian given names are all completely genderless, regardless of what they sound like to a human ear, so transgender Cybertronians don't change their names, and male bots being named after female bots or vice versa is very common.
While it has never been popular, some bots might name their kids after themselves or their own mentor or somebody else important to them, for which they have an equivalent to the english "x Jr."/"x Sr.", using numbers (ex. Elita's son would be Elita Two if named after her, and she'd be called Elita One; and Megatron of Cryotek is sometimes referred to as Megatron II).
To differentiate individuals with the same given name, Cybertronians use their mentor's/parent's name as a matronymic/patronymic (ex. Rubble of Bumblebee, Megatron of Terminus, Orion of Alpha Trion, Megatron of Cryotek). If there's two or more mentors/parents, it's the one who's socially deemed most "important" whose name gets used as the matronymic/patronymic (ex. Strika is deemed more important because she's a general, while Lugnut is just a combat flier) — though bots often use a "less important" parent's name when they don't want everybody to know about the relation for whatever reason. It can be controversial which parent is the "important" one if they both have some kind of notoriety, especially if it's in different fields and thus can't really be compared (such as arts vs. politics). For example, Optimus Prime is viewed as more important by bots that fought away from Cybertron during the Great War, while bots who fought on Cybertron put more importance on Elita (especially as millennia passed) because she was the actually there.
Matronymics/patronymics are also used by transformers to refer to bots who do have surnames because one or more of their parents/mentors is from an alien culture that does use surnames and doesn't use matronymics/patronymics, often regardless of the bot's wish (ex. Nightshade of Dorothy, Stardrive of Rom). In the rare case of a bot raising an alien, they also get a matronymic/patronymic (ex. Jan of Star Saber).
There's a few unorthodox cases where a bot replaced their matronymic/patronymic with something else, most notably "Damus of the Decepticons" which is what Tarn called himself before becoming the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division, presumably as a show of dedication to the Decepticons or some kind of a severance from his mentor(s)/parent(s), whoever that was.
Bots may also use "of (city)" as a byname when they're outside of their home city (ex. Megatron of Tarn, Ravage of Stanix), but that's much rarer and most commonly used for historical figures.
When a bot becomes a Prime they take a new name, often but not not compulsorily from Old Cybrtronian, which bots on Earth usually render as Latin (ex. Optimus Prime, Nova Prime). Primes do not use and are not referred to with any patronymic/matronymic.
𝟏. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫. ♡ WC. 3,765
There was a reason you didn’t do parties.
It wasn’t because you were antisocial (although you absolutely were).
It was because the moment you walked into a room, you didn’t see people.
You saw what they really were.
Your cursed System Ability: Veritas Sight — the Eye That Sees.
(You would have named it something cooler if they'd given you a choice. But no, the System likes its high-drama Latin. Asshole.)
They always tell you the same thing when you're a kid.
"People are good at heart," they chirp, flashing plastic smiles, pressing crayon-stained fingers to your forehead like that would somehow drown out the screams only you could hear.
You tried to believe them. For about five minutes. Until you realized "good" was just another one of those words that adults threw around when they wanted you to shut up and stop asking questions.
You see through people. Not just the smiles and lies, but the real, rotten core buried in their marrow. Their secrets. Their hungers. Their leeches and litanies and little broken truths.
(He beats his wife but cries about it afterward.)
(She wishes her baby dead because it ruined her figure.)
(They’re smiling at you but fantasizing about your corpse.)
You dress them up, strip them down, and cash out every time.
❤︎ Synopsis. In Sex City, flesh is currency, desire is power, and you sit at the top, pulling the strings. Your men dance, strip, and fuck under neon lights, their moans echoing in back rooms where love is just another transaction. They worship you like a god, but gods don’t bleed—do they? In a world where bodies are for sale and obsession turns deadly, the real question is: who owns who?
♡ Pairing. Yandere! Omegaverse! Sex City AU! Various x Fem. Omega! Reader
♡ Characters Include. Pornstar! Gojo, Enemy Kingpin! Sukuna, Virgin Stripper! Sunday, Brothel Escort! Boothill, Sugar Baby! Alhaitham
♡ The Master’s Collection. Five for Sale - Part 1
♡ Word Count. 10,065 (about 1.5k each character)
♡ TW. dom + top + older + scumbag + false sub yanderes, evil psychopathic + false dom and switch + apathetic + black flag reader, toxic + abusive relationships, non-con + dub-con, BDSM + DDLG, inappropriate use of kinks, degradation + humiliation, implied blackmail, dystopian setting, general manipulation + gaslighting + abuse + trauma, implied incest, abuse of authority, omegaverse inspiration, kidnapping, drugging, prostitution and sex industry + sexual exploitation and abuse, implied domestic abuse + unhealthy coping mechanisms + desensitization + unhealthy family dynamics, abandonment, god complex + religious analogies
♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.
The city bleeds for you.
Neon veins pulse through the streets, flashing filth in candy-colored lights—pink, violet, crimson, flickering over bodies pressed together in alleyways, moans drowned beneath the bass-heavy thrum of Sinthral’s heartbeat. Everything here belongs to you. Every touch, every dollar, every gasped-out name whispered in the dark. The men who fuck for you, the women who kill for you, the desperate souls who pray to you with trembling lips—they are all yours. You, the anomaly. The Omega who should have been broken. Who should have been sold, collared, made to kneel.
Instead, they kneel for you.
You sit at the top, high above the filth, in a tower of glass and steel where the scent of blood is scrubbed from the walls, where the air is cold enough to bite. Your name is whispered, breathed like an incantation, a warning, a promise. They call you The Master. The Devil. The Queen who made herself King.
𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬! 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐓𝐒𝐃: 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐦 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. ♡ WC. 2,822
♡ Synopsis. You were just a child when you first died. Good news: you respawn. Bad news: you always respawn — right back into the same nightmare masquerading as real life. Every day is a new quest to survive stalkers, sabotage, and suspicious playground equipment, while your "reward" is slowly losing your mind in high-definition 4K. You can't die. You can't quit. You can only suffer — and maybe, if you're lucky, unlock a new trauma achievement.
♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.
You are the most successful author in human history.
And nobody knows who you are.
They know the name. The myth. The eldritch horror in the shape of a bestselling "little nobody" who spits out Pulitzer-level humor, Nebula Award-winning sci-fi, Booker Prize-trampling psychological thrillers, and horror so chilling it makes grown men piss themselves while clutching their therapy dogs.
You are a legend. A ghost story authors tell each other at 3AM, whispering about the "One Who Writes It All."
And why? Because you have a secret. A nasty little secret stitched into your spine like a parasite. You were born with something most people would call a "superpower." A gift from the heavens.
Except it's not. It's not even close.
Your reality isn't reality.
You live every waking moment under the brutal, indifferent laws of a "game." Not a fun game. Not a "haha funny" MMORPG where you run around picking flowers. No. You live in a "Dark Souls got molested by Danganronpa and was left to die in Silent Hill" type of game.
You see everything as stats, quests, hidden enemy placements, "surprise" death flags. It all scrolls over your vision like an overclocked HUD. And the best part?
You can't turn it off.
You can't die.
[Masterlist] [AO3]
18+ Only | 4k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Supe!Reader with telepathic and mind-altering powers. Less established relationship and more fuck buddies. Lewd mental images. Office sex (kind of?). Exhibitionism (also kind of?) Overstimulation. Creampie.
Summary: As the only telepathic, mind-altering member of the Seven you take Homelander for a vivid ride in his mind during an important meeting. Homelander can't handle being reduced to less than his perfect manicured self and he decides to teach you a lesson.
Written for this request💚(thank you for the inspo!)
Boring. Boring. Mind-numbingly fucking boring.
Ashley’s testing out her new ‘VP of Hero Management’ wings that Homelander graciously gifted her and what does she do with them? She parades around the meeting room, putting up a front of a resilient and driven businesswoman while on the inside her heartbeat is in the hundred-tens and her muscles are strung so tight he could shatter them with a flick of a finger.
Now she’s wasting their time with this? So much for filling in Madelyn’s boots with someone capable.
He rolls his eyes.
Beelzebub(Record of Ragnarok) x female reader who is like Castorice from Honkai Star Rail
Summary: beelzebub spent his life alone ever since the realisation of Satan.. he never made effort to interact, that is, until he met you.
Pairing: Beelzebub x Castorice!Reader
wordcount: 2.1K
a/n: requested by anon! Yay - fulfilling my first crossover fic/request in general!! Reader has gloves because things die when they touch em, thats all the stated info the rest of reader’s description is vaguer. BEELZEBUB WANTS DEATH. The hardest part was finding the right behavior to give beelzebub I hope it didn’t stray from his character. I tried to dig up as much info as I could about castorice, (read every single lore article I could find) kinda HC’S but it’s mixed with story telling kinda writing enough of me yapping go and read!! x
Dividers : @fae-and-wolf
The first time Beelzebub ever set his eyes on you was when he was taking a brief stroll in the enclosed garden of Valhalla. His gaze flicked up from the deep purple of the blossoming buds to your form, sitting poised on one of the marble benches carved. His hand dropped from the stem as his whole body turned to face you, studying your appearance. This is the first he’s seen of you - not that he emerges from his quarters full of research often - at the sanctuary where he would go to clear his mind. There are rotting flowers and dying soil surrounding you, but Beelzebub takes little thought to that, just kind of… blankly staring. He doesn’t approach you though, instead peeking at you from between the leafy stalks.
His intrigue dissipated quickly as he hadn’t stirred from his quarters for days, engrossed in his findings an experiments. Nails dug into scattered papers as Beelzebub grits his teeth with frustration. Sooner than he can fight it, his feet are planted at the threshold of the greenhouse. Beelzebub didn’t expect you to be there again, he hadn’t really given you a thought after that one sighting, though he found himself scanning the controlled foliage for your figure.
pairing: teen!gojo x reader
summary: your bond with Satoru has an intricate history together, starting from the former years in Jujutsu High..
wordcount: 1.6K
a/n: g/n reader, I love teen Gojo, and I love friends to lovers, so why not combine the two? this doesn’t have any suggestive just reader and teen satoru bullying each other. I feel like it shows a stronger and more intimate bond. this is mainly about the relationship and funny little shenanigans gojo and reader go through. Live laugh love high school sweethearts <3
dividers : @vesearartistry
TEEN GOJO who pranks anyone and everyone in Jujutsu High, including you. Giggling as he crouches by the corridor; ready to observe your pitiable fate. Poor you falling victim to his stunts, stepping out of your room freshly showered and clean, that is until you step across the threshold. Water collected ina bucket from - as you could guess - the ditches douses your hair, trickling down your shoulders as your frame freezes up. Your ears are pierced with cackles of laughter, looking over to spot the little nuisance responsible for this practical joke. White tufts of hair bouncing as he snickered away. Your response - simply the most mature thing to do - slip a few insects with one too many limbs into his pillowcase. Shrieking with laughter as you heard satoru’s own shrieks with pure horror, followed by thuds and unnerving crashes. The next morning, your sight is blessed with a mattress and a bed frame strewn about in the hallway, a very suspiciously bed-shaped hole in the wall of Satoru’s dorm room.
