#and his collar bones and forehead

[pinkyjulien]

Valentin & Mitch | 617/?? Warm evening at the Motel

[mooningningg]

"ᴡʜᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴅɪᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ?"

...In which someone gets violent with you in front of him.

sukuna, gojo, megumi, and suguru.

genre, fluff? warnings, violence! notes, ughhh i love when men...

★ RYOMEN SUKUNA

It happens fast. Too fast. One second you’re blinking back shock from the sting of a slap across your cheek, and the next—

“You fucking dead piece of shit.”

The air shifts. A blood-red blur barrels past you before your heart can catch up. Sukuna’s fists connect with the guy’s jaw, a bone-snapping crack echoing through the corridor. He doesn't stop. A punch to the stomach. A kick that slams the boy against the lockers. Then another. You think you hear the guy trying to say something—maybe apologize—but Sukuna’s boot is already crushing into his ribs.

“Touch her again, and I’ll feed you to my dogs, limb by fucking limb.” He seethes, voice venomous and brutal, spitting insults like poison while pinning the guy by the throat. "You wanna bleed, huh? I'll fucking gut you right here—"

“Sukuna,” you whisper, breath catching.

He turns. Blood streaks his jaw, knuckles raw, eyes still wild like an animal fresh off a kill.

But when he sees you— that violence quiets.

“...You good, baby?” His voice drops. Gentle, like the softness was always meant for you and no one else. He walks over, still panting, grabbing your chin with his blood-stained fingers and tilting your face to inspect the damage. “Did he hurt you bad? Fuck, I should’ve ripped his goddamn hands off—”

You shake your head. “I’m okay now.”

He exhales slow. Then kisses your forehead, lips lingering like a silent promise.

But when he pulls back, he’s already turning over his shoulder. “I’m not done with him.”

★ GOJO SATORU

You stumble back, almost losing your footing—and before your brain can process what just happened, there’s a hand on your waist, steadying you.

Gojo’s fingers curl protectively around you, his other hand gently brushing your hair behind your ear. He’s silent for a moment, unnervingly still, before he presses the softest kiss to your temple.

“Baby, stay right here, alright?” Then he turns.

His usual smirk is still there, but something’s different. It doesn’t reach his eyes. The guy who pushed you barely has time to say a word before Gojo’s already in front of him.

“Wow, shoving people smaller than you?” Gojo says with a mock laugh, “That’s cute. What’s next, kicking puppies?” And then— Crack.

His fist slams right into the boy’s jaw, and he drops like a bag of bricks.

Gojo adjusts his sunglasses, like that didn’t just happen. “Oops. My hand slipped.”

He turns back to you, grin bright as the sun. “You okay, sweetheart?” You nod, a little breathless.

“Cool, cool. Wanna grab some ice cream? I think you deserve a treat. That guy’s jaw sure got one.”

★ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

You yelp when someone pulled your hair. It’s not just the pain—it’s the shock. But the guy doesn’t get to enjoy your reaction for long. Megumi's already there, eyes blazing, hands grabbing the guy by the collar and shoving him back so hard he stumbles.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Megumi growls.

Before the guy can even defend himself, Megumi grabs his hair and yanks it downward, hard.

“You think that shit’s funny? Huh?” he snaps, voice dangerously low. “Pulling someone like that—what are you, five?”

He drags the guy down, practically hissing insults with every breath. “You slimy, brainless waste of air. You’re lucky I don’t throw you off a roof right now.”

And then—slam—he pushes the guy to the ground. Hard. Spits out a final, “Pathetic,” before dusting off his hands and turning to you.

The anger drains from his face in an instant.

“Hey… are you okay?” His hands hover before they gently cup your cheek, checking if you’re hurt. “Did he pull too hard? God, I swear people like that don’t deserve to breathe—”

“I’m fine,” you say quietly.

But he doesn’t let it go. He slips his hand in yours, squeezing. “Come on. Let’s go home. I’m not letting anyone else near you today.”

★ GETO SUGURU

It wasn’t even subtle. A full, deliberate splash of red punch, drenching your shirt, staining your chest. You freeze in shock, blinking down at the mess—

And Suguru sees red.

Without hesitation, he grabs the nearest lunch tray—full of food—and storms toward the guy who did it. The boy barely turns before Suguru slams the tray into his face, sandwich and all. The cafeteria gasps. Suguru leans in, towering, voice low and venomous.

“You. Fucking. Monkey.” He drops the tray. “Stupid, brainless animal. Is that how you get off? Staining what you’ll never have?”

The guy tries to stammer, backing away with mashed potatoes on his face, but Suguru just glares him down with pure disgust before turning to you.

“Oh, baby…” His tone flips completely. Gentle. Sweet. He takes a napkin and carefully wipes the juice off your arm. “Hold on, I’ve got extra shirts in the car.” He brushes your damp hair from your face, eyes soft now. “Let’s get you changed, yeah, doll?”

You nod, a little stunned by how fast it all happened.

He wraps an arm around you, guiding you away from the mess, shielding you with his body. “You’re not walking through this place drenched in sugar."

[aquasoftware]

DON’T CALL ME SELFISH I AIN’T SHARING !!

CW | Smut/drabble (18 ↑) jealous séx, dōm! Reader, sūb! Kento, oblivious kento, petnames, shóóting blànks, rīdng, + overstīm.

WC | 0.6k ➜ ML

Kento Nanami, the same man who swore he’d never date a jealous woman because it’s “insanely childish,” ended up with you.

And now there he is–panting beneath you on the couch getting worn out.

This whole jealousy brewed at that party you both attended.

Women flirted with Kento all the time, but this was different because this lady in particular had clothes on so tight someone had mistaken it for paint.

The worst part is she clung onto his arm like a koala, giggling so loud as if she were a hyena at his jokes all while staring you dead in the eye.

Kento, the polite gentleman he is, only assumed she was being friendly—completely missing the way your jaw was locked and a vein threatened to burst in your neck.

The car ride home was silent. Your leg crossed over the other, fingers digging into your own thigh like it’d help you calm down. He glanced at you a few times but didn’t say a word.

Not until once you got into the house, immediately shoving him down onto the couch with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs.

Not wasting a single second your lips crushed against his, sloppy and furious, all tongue and teeth. His tie was yanked loose from his collar and flung somewhere across the living room. Pants and briefs shoved down with no mercy—your hand lazily stroking him while your eyes dared him to say something.

“Sweetheart—fuck, what’s this about?” he attempted to ask.

But your thighs were already caging his hips, your cunt sliding down onto him like he was just something to fill the ache between your legs.

He grunted, jaw falling open, as you started to ride him. Not slow, or sensual how you almost always did, just punishing.

“I don’t…” You paused moaning at the way his cock occupied your guts “Want other women touching you like that, you’re all mine.” you snapped, breathless—hips slamming into his pelvis like your pride was on the line.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t even notice—hah...” he choked out, his voice breaking on a groan when you clenched around him.

“Sure you didn’t.” you sneered, leaning down just enough to kiss him again—biting his bottom lip hard enough to make him hiss.

When you pop your hips up and down at that ruthless speed until he’s shooting blanks? This man goes feral, he doesn’t know whether or not to beg for more.

Your tits bounced with each snap of your hips, and he couldn’t take his eyes off them. One hand flew to your waist, trying to steady you. The other latched onto your breast like it was his only crutch, thumb flicking over your nipple as he gasped, “Too much—s-slow down, wait—hah, don’t stop—”

You listened, only barely. The rhythm slowed, but you kept grinding down like you wanted him to feel your jealousy in his bones.

“Poor thing, you don’t even know what you want me to do.” you whispered gently nibbling his jaw.

His answer came in the form of a deep, broken moan. Hips jerking up against yours, neck thrown back, lips parted in a gasp. He came hard, eyes fluttering shut as he spilled his last drops into you with a choked groan, your name tangled in the sound.

But you didn’t move.

You stayed seated right there on his cock, heart pounding, hands braced on his chest.

Only when his fingers brushed over your thigh—soft and reverent—did you lean forward and rest your forehead against his.

His breathing was shallow, shaky. But he was smiling, and breathlessly chuckling as his length twitched helplessly inside you—entirely drained.

“I might just make you jealous again if this is what happens.”

Divider creds | fic-dumpster.

A/n | @jup1tersuccubus asked me to write jealous sex w nanami so I wrote this.

[blanc-ci]

I KNOW his ass is hitting the

“ is it hot in here or is that just you? “

Where are his two beautiful boys to help make sure he gets home safe?

I wrote a silly drabble for this and your warnings are: not explicit, McCoy is drunk and horny, and this is pre-established mcspirk so there’s quite a bit of un-spoken understanding about the consent around that.

—

In the after-party of a frankly excessive diplomatic wedding, Jim had one of McCoy’s arms slung over his shoulder and was attempting to drag him out of the reception hall. With Spock two steps ahead, leading the way. Bones was humming drunkenly, or mumbling something, it was kind of hard to tell over all the noise, but the vibrations against his side were distinct and endearing.

"I think we should let him drink champagne more often, never seen him cut so loose,” he half-shouted at Spock’s back and, as if to prove his point, Bones started giggling from his spot pressed into Jim’s side.

"Would cut loose be referring to when he began stripping or when he nearly climbed on stage to join the dancers?” Spock called back over his shoulder, not looking for an answer and not slowing his pace as he neatly parted the sea of bodies.

Jim pursed his lips, honestly considering it, in the right context he doesn't really think he'd mind either of those things. Though stripping is a little exaggerated, it was just the outer layers really. But, fine, he’ll concede, to the cultured eye McCoy’s rolled sleeves were not unlike lingerie. He’d rag on Spock for that if he wasn’t already having trouble keeping pace with him.

Thankfully, the air was getting cooler, and the crowd thinner. Soon Spock was ushering them out of the venue and into the brisk other-worldly night. Jim glanced around. Definitely not the main entrance, i.e. they'd have to walk the perimeter for Spock-knows how long to get back to the hovercar- but he did appreciate the lack of people.

He took the chance to readjust McCoy’s body against his and, equally, their good doctor took the chance to lean into the crook of his neck. Mumbling something giddily against Jim’s collar. He shivered and gave a sidelong smirk down at the man,

“Hm? What was that?”

“Should’ve let me dance,” Bones lolled his head up to look at him, and then across towards Spock, sloppy grin and dropped lashes making him look particularly debauched,

“I could’ve given you one helluva show~”

Spock turned and stepped in close, tidying the disarrayed mess of hair clinging to McCoy’s forehead,

“if you wish to dance for us, you can do it someplace with much less of an audience.”

McCoy gasped, glittering,

“a private show? Spock, you sly dog.”

“That is not-“

“Oh it definitely was, let’s get to the car, then I can-“

They bickered in flirtatious circles, though Jim could see McCoy was definitely more checked into his own fantasy than their actual conversation. He feels warm and pleasantly exasperated,

“Bones, you had like four glasses, I’m a bit more worried about that impending hangover you have to look forward to.”

Than any other impending issues.

“Hmm- It might’ve been more,” McCoy tilted his head back looking up at the night, after a distracted pause he turned back to them, scowling- more like pouting,

“Can’t I take advantage of our time before the massive impending hangover?”

Before he could even reply, Jim watched the man consider his own words, and start giggling all over again,

“Or.. can’t you take advantage of my time?”

McCoy’s fingers moved to try and re-start their much earlier work of undoing his top buttons. Pretty unsuccessfully. Jim continued to watch, entertained, as Spock huffed and lightly smacked Bones’ hand aside, fastening the buttons all the way back up. More chaste than ever but still undeterred, McCoy leaned in suddenly, jostling Jim out of his adoring, doe-y eyed revelry.

Bones began whispering heatedly into Spock’s ear, and though Jim couldn't hear every detail, the not-really minute reactions Spock gave were enough of a clue. He cleared his throat,

“Back to the hotel then?”

When they parted Spock raised a brow and said nothing, turning to walk- presumably- in the direction of the car park. Jim followed, making interested half-noises to Bones’ continued horny rambling.

It was dark, but if he squinted could just make out the lovely deep green flush gracing their vulcan’s ears.

[datshitrandom]

Darren Criss at the Atlanta Symphony Hall | M&G | November 21, 2023 | 🎥 via Jenny Corcoran

[softaestluv]

Grease & Grime Won’t Break Your Bones

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

Mechanic! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! reader

Tags: dirty, greasy, grimy, sweaty, blue collar worker, yeah I’ll take one of those! you own a pick up, & I actually don’t know anything about cars, eventual smut

Pt . 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Ao3 | masterlist

Contrary to popular belief, you weren’t completely daft when it came to cars. There were a handful of things you could do, as simple as they might be. You knew how to change a flat tire, how to change your oil, the oil filter and air filter. Even knew how to change the bulbs in your headlights— yours had gone out more than once.

Kept up with basic maintenance, topped off all fluids when necessary, rotated your tires, visited a shop when needed.

Though, the piece of shit pick-up you owned seemed to have more problems than one. Sticks on wheels, lemon of a vehicle, engine light flashing more often than not. You were quite exhausted from all the maintenance, worked too hard to keep staining your clothes in grease and ruining your manicured nails.

A pretty thing like yourself shouldn’t be doing such hard work, but you put entirely too much time into the old truck for price gauging and scamming mechanics to stereotype you— a woman, naive.

Simple.

Maybe you had been lucky when you stumbled across ‘Ghost’s Garage’ and the mechanic was anything but, even if his shop was a rundown brick building on its last leg. Old, dinky, mortar deteriorating, cracks and chips in the bricks. It was honestly a miracle it was still standing, but he worked in auto-motives after all, not construction.

Maybe you were a little biased when the mechanic seemed to walk out of a Men’s Health magazine.

Blonde hair, white t-shirt hugging his biceps, coveralls low on his hips, grease stained arms and fingertips, tattoos curled over his ridiculously tanned skin. It was almost cliche the way he approached you, dirty rag pressed to his forehead, wiping the sweat that dripped down his temples before using the same rag to clean the grease off his fingers.

“What can I do for ya?” He asked with shallow breaths, thick accent twined around each word.

You swallowed thickly, “My oil, I just need my oil changed.”

He raised his brow, gesturing to your blue truck in the service drive, “This your C10 right ‘ere?”

You nod, “That’s me.”

“Y’can sit in my office if you want, ‘ts hot out here. Shouldn’t be long.” He explained, pointing to a small room in the corner of the shop.

It was a typical mechanics office, small, a little dirty. Papers scattered across the desk and floor, plain beige walls, spare parts thrown in a corner. One frame on the edge of the desk, a picture of him and three other men, one of which he’s not really smiling in, just a slight lift to the corner of his lips.

You’re quite grateful that he let you sit in his office rather than being stuck in the summer sun; it was hot, scorching. Even the shorts and t-shirt you wore clung uncomfortably to your skin, thighs pressed tacky to the leather chair.

Despite the fact that it’s a bit too stuffy, a bit too cluttered, you don’t entirely mind. Not when it gives you a perfect view of the mechanic bent over the hood of your truck through the rooms only window.

Now you could really look at him, appreciate the absolute hulking mammoth of a man he is. Burly, brawny, sinewy, can’t even begin to think of all the adjectives to describe him.

Sweat drips down his thick neck, over broad shoulders, and around stout biceps, accentuates each dip and curve of his beefy muscles. It soaks his white shirt wet, makes it cling to his back and abdomen, displays every defined contraction of muscles.

Makes your body burn hot.

You feel like an absolute pervert, mouth salivating at the sight of a mechanic changing your oil. Maybe there was truth behind loving a man in a uniform, even if it was dirty, filthy, soiled, and half off.

You never thought you were attracted to grease and grime, sweat and exhaustion, definitely needed a shower and scrub, but no one has worn it like he is.

It isn’t long, less than 10 minutes, and meanwhile you appreciate the efficiency, a part of you is a little disappointed at the loss of the show.

“All set for you.” He says once he enters the room.

You jump up, “Ah, thank you so much!”

“Nice ol’ thing, ‘aven’t worked on one of ‘em before,” He compliments, zipping up the rest of his coveralls— ‘Simon’ printed on a pocket patch.

You laugh, real low from your chest, “That’s what you think. Just wait ‘til I come back next week cause the engine light came on.”

Simon chuckles, “No worries, bring it t’me for whatever you need.”

“Depends on how much you’re charging me for today’s services,” You joke, rummaging through your bag for your wallet.

“‘ts on the house,” He responds, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against his desk.

“What? No, I didn’t mean like that,” You stammer, shaking your head, “I’ll pay you.”

Simon just shrugs his shoulders, “Just be back for your next oil change.”

Your smile is wide, “I’ll see you in a couple thousand miles then.”

✦.─Masterlist ─.✦

[lilaccmilk]

The City Needs Me (But I Need You More)

He had to go to patrol the city at night.

You knew that. He knew that. But the thing was, you both were ignoring the said fact. He’s the city’s protector for heaven's sake, but here you were—on his lap as he continued kissing you. His lips trail over your neck, your jaw, your hands—anywhere he can reach. “Just one more,” he whispers, but you both know that's a lie. He was into the whole superhero thing wayyy before you came into his life. And now? You're his world, his everything, he feels that he should rethink his decisions. He so desperately wants to spend his time with you, to not cut dates short every time the city 'needs' him. He needed you more. He wanted to spend time with you, to be normal, to be by your side.

So yeah, nothing about his kisses was mindless, in fact, his mind was full of you— your breath, your heartbeat, your scent, your touch. His lips chase yours like a sinner chasing salvation, with such raw desperation, it lights up your heart. He pulls you closer— impossibly so, and trails his kisses up your neck, marking you, owning you. His breath mixes with yours, clouding your senses in a haze that numbs your mind. Fuck, it was so hard for him to let you go to breathe without following up with small pecks. Trailing kisses over your collar bone, softly sucking a mark over your skin.

"You have to go patrol" you softly start, his lips worshipping you still, "the city needs their strong hero."

"Your kisses make me strong," he murmurs, voice soft, "and I need to be the strongest for you." Your fingers curl into his suit, holding him close. "You don’t need to be the strongest," you whisper, eyes searching his, "just be mine." And he freezes. A quiet, strangled noise leaves his throat as he drops his forehead against yours, completely destroyed by your words. His breath is shaky as he chuckles, brushing his nose against yours. His hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer, mumbling against your lips.

“One last kiss, pretty girl.”

superhero au: Gojo Satoru, Yuuji Itadori, Ino Takuma (JJK), Xavier, Rafayel (L&DS), Peter Parker, Miles Morales, Dick Grayson, Ken Sato, + your favs!

[lohotine]

``Oh, You Liar!``

Multi Char Fic x AFAB! Reader (NSFW)

Ft: Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla, Affogato

CW: Cookiefucking(?) Cockwarming, oral, fingering, blowjob

°•《 AN: oh dear, did I miss valentines?》•°

MINORS DNI! NSFW FIC BELOW CUT

Shadow Milk Cookie;

oh, how you hated him! you knew he was mean, but you never thought it was to such an extent...

not letting you move, even though he was so close to your g-spot. he said he'd let you once he was finished going over some paperwork, but... he's taking forever! it's just not fair.

your shift your thigh ever so slightly. (you've been good for how long now? don't you deserve a little friction?)

the jester notices it instsntly and clicks his tongue in response. "ah ah ah- didn't I tell you to sit still?" he looks at you with lidded eyes, a faint expression of some sort of twisted amusment present through them.

"shadow milk.. you're s'mean to me... you're taking a long time on purpose-"

he grins at you, pressing his forehead to yours. "it'll only take longer if you keep distracting me like this... c'mon, it'll be over soon. just behave for a little while longer, yeah?"

hah! a little while longer my ass! knowing him, he'd probably continue stalling until your breaking point... the thought made you pout.

"what's that look for?" he asked, only to be met with your stubborn silence.

how unfortunate... he prides himself on getting reactions out of you, you know?

he presses a hot kiss to your collar bone, lightly sucking on the dough.

just what did he think he was doing? was he expecting you to sit still during this as well?

"mmph- shadow milk--" you grind your hips. (you just couldn't help yourself! not when you've been stuffed full for nearly an hour now...)

he places a hand on your knee, preventing any further movement. "that wasn't permission to move."

you can't help the whine that escapes your lips. "you're not being fair..."

he scoffs at the statement. didn't you know that he wasn't a fair man? "punishments aren't supposed to be fair. now stop moving, 'kay? i promise i'll be done soon..."

Pure Vanilla

"you... ah- said you were inexperienced!" you muster through hot breaths, hair sticking to your flushed face.

he spread your already soaking folds with two fingers, thumb resting on your bud. "mmm, but I am..."

one of your legs rests on top of his shoulder. he presses a kiss to your thigh, slowly moving closer to the spot where you actually want him to be.

(he sure was taking his time... there's no way he didn't know what he was doing to you!)

he places a kiss right on your cunt, and you can feel his hot breath at your entrance. still, he doesn't give you what you want.

"hurry up already..."

pure vanilla can't help but chuckle. "so impatient..." though, he obliges. he quickly darts his tongue in and out of your clit; its only purpose to get you even more on edge.

and before you can even say anything else, he pumped both fingers in, setting a steady pace. oh- and the way his tongue circled around your clit;

once... twice.. fuck! it drove you insane.

your mouth fell slack, unholy moans falling from your lips. tufts of his golden hair became tangled in your fingers as you grasped it.

of course, he didn't mind. it was only a sign that he was doing his job right. "ngh- pure vanilla-" you managed to choke out between moans.

he looked up at you, mouth never leaving your pussy. "mmhm?" the sound only worked as extra stimulation as it vibrated throughout your body.

what were you even asking for again? you couldn't even remember over how good the blonde was licking you up...

oh, it didn't even matter anyway! so long as he kept sucking on your cunt, you couldn't care less.

Affogato

having you here between his legs... doe eyes looking up at him-

it turned him on much more than he'd like to admit. your tongue licking the slit of his already leaking tip...

he sucked in the cold air through gritted teeth. he wasn't supposed to be getting so worked up over this, but the intoxicating feeling of your mouth on him was a pleasure he found much too enticing.

"you feel so fucking good, baby," he'd say, more labored breaths spilling from his lips.

how strange... the royal advisor was never a person to use such foul language. how did you manage to pull that from him?

you took more of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length and wrapping your hand around what couldn't fit into your mouth.

he grinded his shoe against your clothed entrance, trying to give himself at least some edge in this interaction...

he swore that he held more power over you, and he desperately wanted to prove that fact to be true.

"come on, don't you want me to touch you? don't you want my fucking hands on you?"

he became so desperate like this... so much for holding power over you! oh well, he was always a bit of a liar anyway.

each flick of your tongue sent another shiver up his spine. god, how were you so good at that?

he grabbed a fist-full of your hair and pulled you further onto his dick, gaining a gag from you.

oh how he loved the tears that picked the corners of your eyes!

though, he loved your mouth on him so much more...

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when an overworked magical girl from another anime franchise crashes into satoru gojo’s world?

a/n : consider this as a pilot or something so pleeeasee do tell if y’all see the vision hehe. i might write this either as oneshot or series, crack treated seriously, fluff and fix it :3 this is pre-hidden inventory arc.

the sky tears.

satoru doesn’t notice it at first. he’s too busy kicking the hell out of a training dummy, sweat clinging to the back of his neck as the sun swelters high above jujutsu tech’s back field. his shirt clings damply to his back, white hair tousled and sticking to his forehead in unruly, sweat-drenched clumps. every kick sends a dull echo through the otherwise quiet yard, and his brows are furrowed, teeth gritted—not out of effort, but boredom.

it’s supposed to be a solo mission—a recon exercise, or so yaga said, but more like a punishment for cutting class again. the kind that comes with no supervision, no curse threats, just him, a dummy, and the blistering heat. satoru checks his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. detention by any other name would still be just as tedious.

then the air goes still.

the cicadas stop screaming. the clouds part with unnatural precision, like curtains pulled by unseen hands. the temperature spikes—no, drops—and something surges through the atmosphere with a pulse so loud it rattles his bones. his body stiffens, spine prickling with instinct. midnight blue eyes narrow behind tinted lenses, sensing the shift in reality before his other senses can process it.

and then you crash into the earth.

not fall. not descend. crash. like a meteor. like a magical girl-shaped missile. light explodes in a pastel burst of ribbons, iridescent butterflies, and shattering sakura petals. the air rings with the high-pitched chime of otherworldly bells, the tinkle of crystal stars, and the unmistakable sugary pop of transformation magic gone sideways. the ground trembles beneath it.

the training field goes silent except for the sound of scorched grass and the faint, whimsical hum of residual transformation magic. a stray butterfly, translucent and shimmering with cosmic dust, flutters past satoru’s ear before dissolving into sparkles.

satoru blinks behind his sunglasses, now slightly askew on his nose. he adjusts them with a slow push of his index finger, head tilting, brows raised beneath snowy bangs that flutter faintly in the shifting breeze.

“…huh.”

in the crater, you groan.

you’re face-down in a shallow pit, skirt ruffled, hair scorched at the ends, and your transformation outfit—sky-pink bodice with cream lace trim, crystalline brooch shaped like a winking star, thigh-high boots with wing-shaped heels that somehow remain pristinely white despite your crash landing—is smoking gently at the edges. your star-shaped wand lies beside you like a fallen weapon of cosmic justice, occasionally sputtering pathetic little sparks as if trying to reboot itself.

above your head, a tiny, winged creature that looks like a deranged mix between a rabbit and a plushie on its fifth espresso flutters in frantic circles, trailing stardust and anxiety in equal measure.

“you’ve breached the astral veil! the interdimensional tether’s fried! we overshot by three star realms!” it shrieks, voice unnaturally high, paws clutching at its fuzzy cheeks in distress. “this is NOT how galactic school exchanges are supposed to go! we’re so off-schedule! the stellar alignment council is going to have my tail!”

satoru approaches cautiously, one hand in his pocket, the other hovering near his weapon just in case. his steps are deliberate, almost lazy, yet somehow soundless. the breeze tugs lightly at the hem of his uniform jacket, ruffling his collar and loosening the tension in his shoulders. cursed energy flows through him, ready but controlled, his limitless technique humming just beneath his skin.

“uh,” he says, peering over the crater’s edge. “you okay down there?”

“no,” you groan, rolling onto your back. your eyes are half-lidded, voice hoarse, lashes clumped with ash and what might be leftover mascara from yesterday. there are dark circles under your eyes that no amount of magical transformation can hide. “i have two essays due, i haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, i still have cram school, i fought six darklings at dawn, had to seal a nightmare portal during lunch break, my transformation pen is running on fumes, and now i’ve apparently crash-landed in a world with no ley lines.”

you pause.

“…and mipple won’t shut up.”

“you ripped a hole in space,” mipple screeches, buzzing frantically around your head, leaving a trail of panicked sparkles. “this is not sustainable hero behavior! you need rest! regulation mana! a snack! the magical girl handbook specifically states that cosmic defenders should maintain a balanced sleep schedule and nutrient intake! page forty-seven, paragraph three!”

satoru blinks, slowly crouching beside the crater. his weight settles on the balls of his feet, elbows resting loosely on his knees. his expression is unreadable behind the glare of his glasses, but there’s a hint of genuine curiosity in the tilt of his head. “you’re not from around here, huh.”

“gee, what gave it away?” you mutter, dragging your gloved hand down your face. a heart-shaped gem on your glove catches the light, flickering weakly. “was it the interdimensional wormhole or the talking plushie?”

satoru grins. his teeth flash white in the sun, a hint of mischief curling at the edge of his lips. “the sparkles.”

mipple flits a fast, nervous circle around him, sniffing the cursed energy. its tiny nose twitches, ears flattening against its head. “her readings are flat. nothing’s reacting. it’s like this whole place runs on… rot.” mipple’s eyes widen to comical proportions. “this isn’t a darkness realm, is it? please tell me we haven’t crashed into a darkness realm. the paperwork for that is a nightmare.”

“charming,” you deadpan.

“you’re leaking glitter,” satoru says helpfully, pointing to the trail of iridescent dust that seems to be following your every movement like dejected confetti.

you sit up with a scowl, brushing at your skirt with short, angry movements. flecks of glitter and ash catch the sunlight, making you shimmer like a very irate disco ball. the ribbon in your hair droops sadly to one side, and your magical girl tiara is slightly crooked. “great. fantastic. this is exactly what i needed today. another crisis. do you people have dimensional transit hubs or are you still in the dirt age?”

“dirt age?”

“never mind,” you sigh, pushing back a strand of hair that falls immediately back into your face. “point me to your nearest leyline stabilizer and maybe i can reverse the jump. preferably before i miss another math test. i’m barely passing as it is.”

“uh,” satoru squints, pushing his glasses higher with a knuckle, fingers smudged with sweat and dust. “we’ve got vending machines? and i think i saw a fortune teller at the corner store once.” he pauses, then adds with complete seriousness, “the milk bread is pretty good.”

mipple facepalms in mid-air with an audible poof, leaving a tiny puff of glitter.

“okay,” you say, standing slowly, wobbling. your knees wobble like a newborn deer’s. “okay. it’s fine. i just need a second. maybe ten. maybe an hour. or a nap. or the sweet release of death. or caffeine. ideally all of the above.”

you stumble.

there’s a flicker of light. your form glitches slightly—one ribbon vanishing, then another, your skirt shortening then lengthening, your magical aura flickering like a dying lightbulb—and with a tired sigh and the sad deflating sound of a party balloon, your transformation dissolves into a shimmer of pale light. your star-shaped wand vanishes with a chime, and the magical embellishments melt away like soap bubbles.

you’re left in a rumpled high school uniform: blazer, skirt, tie askew, one sock missing, the other scrunched around your ankle. your hair’s a mess, sticking to your cheeks. your face is streaked with dirt and interstellar ash. your school bag materializes with a sad plop beside you, spilling out a half-finished homework assignment, three empty energy drink cans, and what appears to be emergency chocolate.

satoru catches your elbow without thinking, touch light and instinctive. “whoa there, sparkles.”

you slap his hand away with the strength of a very tired moth batting at a streetlamp. “don’t touch me, i’m radioactive with stress. also, i shock people sometimes when i’m low on magic. it’s not pretty.”

he snorts—then, belatedly, catches a proper glimpse of your face.

he goes still.

there’s ash in your lashes, a scratch on your cheek, and you look like you’ve clawed your way out of a magical apocalypse—your hair is a mess, your uniform is wrinkled in ways that defy physics, and there’s a sparkly band-aid on your knee with little moons on it—but still, for some reason, all he can think is: she’s pretty.

heat prickles across his ears. he shoves his sunglasses back up his nose, suddenly very interested in a patch of grass beside his foot. he scratches the back of his neck, pretending to study a dandelion like it’s the most complex thing he’s ever seen. like he hasn’t faced down curses ten times more dangerous than a tired high school girl who occasionally sparkles.

and for a second, everything’s quiet again. awkward. your breathing slows, the wind picks up. somewhere, a cicada remembers how to scream.

“listen,” he says, voice a little lower, a little softer. “this isn’t a leyline whatever, but we’ve got a place to crash nearby. and sugar. and air conditioning. i mean, if you don’t mind hanging out with some weirdos.” he gestures vaguely in the direction of the school building. “though, from what i’m seeing, you’d probably fit right in.”

you glare at him, narrowing your eyes like you’re trying to set him on fire with sheer willpower. you cross your arms, wobble slightly, then uncross them when you realize it’s taking too much energy to maintain the posture. mipple lands on your shoulder, tiny paws patting at your cheek in a comforting gesture.

“mipple,” you say slowly. “scan him for monster corruption.”

“he’s clean,” mipple says, whiskers twitching as it sniffs the air around satoru. “just stupid. and full of something weird. but not evil-weird. more like… chaos-weird.” it pauses, then adds helpfully, “he smells like blue raspberry slushies and bad decisions.”

“fine,” you grumble, bending down to stuff your homework back into your bag. “lead the way, mister. but if you try anything funny, i still have enough magic to turn you into something small and amphibious.”

satoru flashes a grin that tugs crooked at the corner, brushing a hand through his damp hair. it fluffs back into place, soft and silver, catching the sun in a halo-bright sheen. “that’s what i thought.”

the glitter trails behind you as you limp off the field, exhausted, annoyed, and absolutely, cosmically done with today. a butterfly manifestation charm falls from your pocket, too depleted to even flutter. your magical girl compact beeps once, twice, then falls silent, the battery icon blinking sadly in the corner.

satoru watches you from the corner of his eye, still grinning, a faint pink on his cheeks. his hand drifts briefly to the spot where your elbow had been, fingers curling slightly. the residual warmth lingers, along with the faintest trace of stardust.

he’s never met anyone like you before.

and watching you now—dragging your feet but still holding your head high—he knows he never will again. behind him, the training dummy collapses with a defeated thud, like even it can’t keep up with the kind of day you’re having.

you don’t notice.

you’re already walking off, one hand adjusting your sleeve like you didn’t just nearly destroy the field. it’s the kind of tired that comes from trying too hard, too often. but you carry it like it’s nothing.

satoru watches you go, something warm and strange curling in his chest.

yeah.

he’s definitely in trouble.

[mattsbestgirl]

angel ⋆˙⟡

୨ৎ - smut, inexperienced!reader x fuckboy!matt, p in v (unprotected don’t do that!), pet names, slight breeding kink (?).

________________________________________________

“matt— i don’t think this is good” you stammer out nervously, as matt hovers on top of you kissing down the soft skin of your neck. “s’fine baby, feels good doesn’t it?” he smirks up at you, as he trails kisses down the valley of your breasts; causing you to whine and squirm under him. “jus’ relax sweetheart, no one’s gonna see you.” matt reassures you, as his hand find the waistband of your lacy panties, that are already wet with your arousal. “you gonna be good f’me, and let me fuck you’re preeetttyyy pussy hm?” he coos, kissing and nibbling at your collar bones.

“please- i need you matt.” you whine nodding in response. he scoffs at your plea, his hands tugging down your panties. “ur so wet and i’ve barely done anything, that desperate huh?” he teases with a knowing smirk, while he stands undoing his belt as he takes his own jeans. you watch in awe as he frees his hard cock, already leaking with beads of precum. “s’not nice to stare angel.” he chuckles lightly, letting out a low groan as he spreads the precum down his shaft pumping himself in his hand.

matt walks back over to you, gently caressing your soft thighs as he spreads them open. “you look so pretty like this, all needy and ready for me.” he brings a hand to toy with your slick and puffy clit, eliciting a soft moan from your pouty lips. “mmph - mm - matt” you whine as his hand picks up speed on your bud. “ah ah ah, not yet baby, wan’ you to cum around my cock yeah?” you nod in response, whimpering as he glides his tip up and down your sopping folds. “deep breaths, okay angel? i’ll be nice and slow” he assures, sliding into your tight heat with a groan. “thaaattssss it baby, relax.” he hisses, his hands holding your hips as he bottoms out. you moan when he does, your manicured nails pressing small crescents into his back at the sensation.

as he starts to pump in and out of you, your head falls back in pleasure as you bite down on your swollen lips. “you look s’fuckin’ pretty like this.” he praises, as he quickens his movements finding a steady pace. “mmph matt s’good, s’good.” you practically chant as you moan from the feeling of his cock stuffing you perfectly. “mm that good angel? yeahhh that’s right.” he moans lowly, his hips moving now relentlessly against yours as his tip repeatedly kisses your cervix. “matt i-mmp close.” you can barley form a sentence, your mind clouded with how good he feels plowing inside of you.

“yeah? gonna let me cum in this perfect pussy? m’gonna fuck you full of my babies, angel.” you whine, nails digging even more into his back as you reach your peak; walls fluttering and squeezing around his cock, as a creamy ring forms at his base. “fuckkk, m’right behind you baby.” and with that, matt’s movements still as spurts of his white sticky cum paint your walls, making you moan at the sensation. he presses a kiss to your forehead as he pulls out, both of your releases spilling out of your aching hole. matt groans at the sight, his fingers moving to push the mixture into you. “fuck you’re s’perfect angel.”

©mattsbestgirl

🏷️ - @ch6rm @frattboychris @raesturns @matthewsroses @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @slvt4chriss @chrisspussygang @harls-sturn @beela696969 @slut4chris888 @luvvnai @graciebrams @wastelandzella @wassupleticia @mattsbug @phosphns @courta13 @pixie-sticks-are-good

[chrattho1]

chris sturniolo smut

filthy

warnings: unprotected sex, use of petnames, established relationship

inspired by this prompt by @muwapsturniolo

the kids are fast asleep, the house stands still, nothing but the sound of dishes clinking under the water as you washed and dried them.

a small frown tugs at your face, worried thoughts invading your silenced mind when you realise your husband is unusually late tonight.

it wasn’t until you were washing the last of the cups when you heard the main door creak open, your head snaps and hand subconsciously reaches to turn the faucet off before grabbing a towel from the side to dry your palms and quite literally sprint towards the hallway.

not even halfway out the kitchen your body was pressed to another.

chris’s sweaty broad frame right in your face when he stops you by holding onto your shoulders.

his long-sleeved white undershirt is no longer white, his blue button up rolled across his arms when he pulls back to look at you.

“woah there, what’s the rush ma?” his tired eyes still glinting with playfulness, a grin spread across his spent features.

his hat turned backwards, small locks of hair peeking out. a tiny cut on his lip evidently showing his habit of biting on it when he is focused or working.

he has had a long day.

you don’t respond to his rhetorical question, simply bringing your palm to his cheek and wiping off the black car grease from under his eye.

“missed you” your voice below a whisper, but he catches it perfectly.

a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth, slowly pushing your body back with his until your ass hits the edge of the kitchen counter.

“missed me?” he mockingly pouts, his calloused palms trailing down from your shoulders to your back and resting on your hips, giving your ass a little squeeze.

you nod softly, pulling his head down desperately for a kiss but to your surprise he pulls back.

“hey now, im dirty” he spoke chuckling, clearly enjoying your state.

“i dont care” you mutter, pulling his head down again, this time more fiercely, kissing him open mouthed and sloppy.

chris giggles into the kiss before tilting his head, lips complying with yours.

you press your tongue onto his bottom lip before taking it in between your teeth, tugging on it as you taste the dried,salty sweat that probably ran down from his forehead.

his hands roam aimlessly around your body and settle on your hips each time, his nose digging into yours which makes both of your breathing sound heavy and shaky.

your fingers tangle in his hair slightly pulling onto some, you need him bad.

it isn’t long until he grips the back of your thighs, pulling you up and setting you down on the counter—all while not breaking the kiss.

your wet lips recede from chris’s, making their way to his jaw, placing small scurried kisses along the prominent bone then down to his neck.

“slow down, im right here” you can hear the smirk on his face, feeling his chapped lips graze your earlobe.

your small hand clutches the hem of his shirt, pulling it down.

he pulls himself off of you finally getting rid of the worn out shirt around his forearm and grabbing the round collar on the one he is wearing to draw it up his head making his hat fall off in the process.

he was quick to get back to your mouth, hungrily kissing it now. his hand comes up to grab your chin firmly, angling your face to his liking.

his dirt filled nails dig into the skin of your cheeks, his palms that were covered in grease leaving faded splotches on your face.

chris’s free hand drops down to undo his belt hastily, making you pull back and help him out to fasten the process.

“missed me so much huh?” he speaks with a mischievous scoff.

you successfully pull his pants down and look up at him to catch him grinning down at you. his index finger reaching to hook on your shorts and you buck your hips to help him pull them down.

his boxers were down the next second, his hard length springing up to his stomach. tip swollen and aching to be inside you.

his digits find their way to the corner of your panties, pushing them aside in a swift motion, his knee nudging your legs apart before his strong hands wrapped them around his torso.

his breath still ragged from the intense make out, lips red and his mouth hung slightly as he focuses on aligning his tip with your entrance.

he doesn’t warn you before slamming his hips into yours, filling you up completely.

chris lets out a low groan as he starts thrusting hard and deep, gripping your hips tightly.

your head falls back, hands stretched out on the counter.

his pace relentless, each powerful stroke sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“holy shit—” he pants out, his eyes dark with lust.

chris’s jaw drops watching you arch your back and bite your lip, moaning loudly.

the sound of your wet bodies and your ass hitting the cold marble counter with each thrust echoes through out the room.

“oh—fuck chris..” you moan out loud, pressing your eyes shut.

chris grins wickedly, your moan spurring on him. he thrusts deeper, hitting a spot that he knows makes you squirm.

“thats it ma, take it” his voice strained.

his nails dig into the flesh of your hips, plowing into you with intensity.

“nngh…chris” your face scrunched up in pleasure, the knot in your stomach getting tighter.

“fuck, y’feels so good..” he growls, one hand sliding between your bodies to rub your clit furiously.

“oh—oh fuck-” your thighs quiver around him.

“like that? huh?” his breath hits your face and you nod frantically in response.

he knows you’re about to cum when he sees the familiar sight of your eyes rolling back pornographically.

your gummy walls clench around him and his hand comes off your clit to grip the edge of the counter to stabilise himself.

with a screech you cum undone on his dick, forming a white ring around the base.

the sounds you make go straight to his dick, queuing his orgasm.

with a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you and comes hard, filling you with his hot cum.

chris stays buried inside you, his dick twitching as he empties himself completely. he is breathing heavily, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours as he comes down from his intense orgasm.

chris smiles softly, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

he slowly pulls out, making you both shiver at the sensation. he watches as some of his cum leaks out of you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“so you like it when i am filthy huh” his eyebrows quirk up when he looks up at you and you nudge your elbow into his chest at the comment.

he chuckles at your embarrassment.

not proofread, english is not my first language

taglist: @rhionapp @theboredknightcat-blog @tits4matt @surfer-sturn @whore4mattsturniolo @ncm9696 @tezzzzzzzzz @espressque @sturniolosymphony @ellssturn @mattandchrismakemewett @herewegoagain-b @shadowthesim237 @grace-sturnz @devotedlyteenagemusic @chrislover696969 @iluvvmeeee @sweetshuga @sturnsblogs @ivysturnss @cockettechris @sophand4n4 @joanakaulitz @brianaluvschris @chrepsi @sturniolooluvv @k4urltzx @mattsbunnyxx @bee-43 @mattscoquette @sosasturns @slutforchrissturniolo2 @starsforu @snoopychris @cvnntagious

[dee-writes-anime]

OK IMGINE IF READER SACRIFICES HERSELF FOR BAKUGO WHEN HE DIES?!?! SO INSTEAD OF HIM ITS HER BUT SHE SOMEHOW LIVES DUE TO HER OMNIPOTENCE QUIRK?!

And their dating too!

And how people dont realise that she’s able to heal herself while she was dead for a good 10 minutes while bakugo is crying over her ‘dead’ body???

WHAAAAA IM EXCITED TO SEE WHAT YOU COME UP WITH THIS ONE DEE!!!!

-monty , EAT SLEEP AND DRINK!

Ten Minutes

FEATURING Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

SUMMARY How dare you jump in front of him like that. What is he supposed to do without you?

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, descriptions of death, greif, and anger, talks of battlefield settings

AUTHORS NOTE I love writing pain, maybe that makes me a sadist, maybe not. We shall never know I suppose... hope you enjoy my loves! <3

The battlefield was a corpse.

Sky cracked open like ribs, scorched and splintered with the bones of broken cities. The fragments of land—suspended only by the last gasps of Monoma’s warped portals—floated like driftwood in a sea of ruin. Smoke choked the air. Blood slicked the ground. Every breath burned.

And Tomura Shigaraki—monstrous, half-formed, and pulsing with raw hatred—stood at the center, grinning with something feral behind bloodshot eyes.

Bakugo had never felt so close to the end.

He was fast—faster than ever, lungs rattling, arms trembling from the sheer heat surging through his veins—but not fast enough. The second Shigaraki’s body twisted and launched one of his barbed, sharpened tendrils straight toward him, Bakugo knew he wasn’t going to make it.

He didn’t have time to dodge. No time to think. Just instinct. Just the air being sliced apart like paper.

And then—

You were there.

You didn’t scream.

You didn’t hesitate.

You stepped in front of him and took the hit.

The spike impaled you clean through—back to chest. Your body jerked. The force of it knocked you off your feet and straight into him. He caught you with a grunt, stumbling back, arms instinctively curling around your body, but—

You weren’t moving.

He looked down.

And his world— Collapsed.

Blood. So much of it. Your uniform was already soaked through. The exit wound bubbled with gore, your skin torn and blackened around the edges from the heat. Your mouth opened. A gurgling sound came out. Blood slid from your lips. Your eyes—half-lidded—searched for his face, unfocused.

And then they stopped moving.

You went still.

“No,” Bakugo whispered. He shook his head, once. “No—no.”

He dropped to his knees.

The rest of the world dropped with him.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice cracking. He shook your shoulders lightly. “No. Wake up. Wake the hell up. You don’t get to do this.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard. Shigaraki was still moving in the distance—he heard Jeanist shouting, felt a blast of heat from Endeavor's flames nearby—but it was nothing.

His whole universe had narrowed to you.

“You don’t get to leave me,” he whispered, lower now. Raw. “Not like this. Not without saying anything. Not for me.”

His hands were slick with your blood. He pressed down over the wound without thinking, not caring that his gloves were soaked. His palms trembled as he forced pressure over your chest, his vision blurring.

“You should’ve let it hit me,” he said, gritting his teeth, jaw clenched like it would break. “I should’ve been the one.”

His voice shook. “I’m the damn reason this whole war’s a mess. You were always the one who held us together—you were the light, you—fuck.”

The words choked out of him like smoke.

And still—you didn’t breathe.

Your head lolled in his arms. Your skin was already starting to cool. Your hair was matted with dust, blood, the scorched remnants of battle. His fingers curled in your collar as he bent over you, shoulders heaving in silence.

No sobs.

Just shaking.

Silent. Guttural. The kind of grief that doesn’t have sound because it lives in the marrow.

“I love you,” he whispered into your neck. “I never—I never said it enough. You knew, right? You had to know.”

Five minutes.

Six.

Time became a cruel thing.

And then—

It changed.

A shift.

Like gravity holding its breath.

He pulled back sharply. Your body glowed.

Softly. Weakly. But undeniably.

And then—

You gasped.

Your back arched violently in his arms as your chest heaved for air, blood surging like fire beneath your skin. Your mouth opened in a choked cry as your lungs dragged in oxygen. Energy shimmered along your veins—pale and gold, like stardust stitching your soul back together.

Your eyes opened.

White-hot. No pupils. No irises. Just pure power.

“…What the—what the fuck—” Bakugo's words snapped from his throat. He almost dropped you.

Your breath hitched. “Hurts,” you croaked. “Everything… hurts.”

He blinked, wide-eyed, as your wounds started closing. Not fully—your blood still ran, slow and thick—but he could see it, watch the skin knit itself back together. You were glowing. Flickering. Your Quirk—Omnipotence—was dragging you back from the edge of the grave.

“You’re—” he swallowed, voice failing. “You were gone. For ten goddamn minutes.”

“I know,” you whispered, coughing. “I counted.”

“You idiot.”

“You cryin’?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, voice catching.

And then he was pulling you in again—cradling you against his chest with every ounce of strength left in his body. His fingers tangled in your hair, his grip fierce but shaking.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he muttered into your blood-soaked collar. “You hear me? Don’t you ever do that again.”

You were trembling, but your lips tilted upward just slightly. “Only if you don’t.”

He let out a broken, strangled laugh.

“Deal, you pain-in-the-ass goddess.”

He pulled back just enough to see your eyes—still glowing, but soft now. Human again. You were here. Still with him. Still breathing.

And Bakugo Katsuki, heart-wrecked and still trembling, pressed his forehead to yours again.

“I love you,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “I love you so much it fucking hurts.”

[2tarbell]

i need some blue collar rafe pls. i love that man

can u pls do something with like sweetheart!reader !!

maybe like some slow soft passionate sex before he has to go to work at like 5am

and it’s jus so loving n aww ☺️

anyways i love u and ur mind mwah mwah

BLUECOLLAR!RAFE + SWEETHEART!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

it was no secret that rafe had a soft spot for you. the hardworking, calloused man melted into a puddle for those puppy eyes and that little pout.

he knew you hated when he left, but you’d hate it even more if he didn’t wake you up to say goodbye. what started as kisses on the way out turned into sliding his morning wood into your warmth — watching with sleep glazed eyes as the intrusion slowly woke you.

now he can’t even get out of bed without you pulling on his strong arm, dreamy voice begging for him to stay. you were half asleep, eyes still practically closed, but he couldn’t do anything other than indulge you.

it was how you found yourself being spilt in half at 3:45 am, an hour before he needed to be on the road ‘abandoning you’. rafe never laughed at that joke.

he was holding himself above you, forearms caging in your head. with your hair all disheveled and practically drooling — he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“fuck, how’re you so tight?” he heaved.

his gravelly words raised goosebumps across your pleasure-fuzzy, warm body. you were always so pliant this early, letting him stretch your legs over his muscular shoulders. the deeper press of his cock to your g-spot left you unable to speak coherently.

your hands clutched at his head, holding him close and brushing your soft lips against his with every precise thrust. rafe loved you like this — hips canting and so desperate for release, for him to stay.

“please, daddy— please—“

his hips stayed slapping against yours, the creamy ring of your arousal creating a sopping sound. his pubic bone kept hitting your clit perfectly and pulled whines from you. swollen lips letting out a hiccup when he thrusts in to the hilt.

rafe hummed, a low sound in acknowledgment of your state. he lifts his hand to your mouth, your lips parting against the intrusion of his thumb, taking it in to the knuckle.

“god, you’re takin’ me so well,” he mutters, his hips rolling against yours, “bein’ so good… so perfect for me.”

you let out a garbled moan, eyes drooping from sleepiness and the pleasure he was providing. he just knew — knew how to make you unravel and turn dumb.

sucking on his thumb eagerly as you could manage, languid from sleep and the kiss of his mushroom head against your cervix. with a pop he pulled the digit from your mouth, sliding between your bodies and rolling it over your puffy clit. the gathered spit mixed with the sparkling sheen of your arousal, making the flicks of his thumb smooth and effortless.

“oh my god—!”

you choked out, head diving back into the pillow behind you as his slow, deep thrusts make that coil in your tummy feel almost too tight. the feeling all consuming and unfamiliar.

rafe takes the advantage to sit up on his knees, wrapping a large hand around your throat — tight enough to let you know he’s there, he’s got you.

“mmh, i know, shhh — oh, shit — look at that…”

his hand slides around to the back of your neck, tilting your head down to see what he sees. you watch dumbly as you squirt all over him, coating his abs and dick with your cum.

it’s like you’re out of your body, watching yourself come undone while your hearing goes fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm.

suddenly flooded with warmth as his pants get more whiny, indicating his own imminent release. he leans down, pressing his forehead tightly to yours and giving a few more thrusts for good measure — squelch sounds punctuating each inward movement.

he shudders against you, feeling tingly from the overstimulation of your pussy still clenching around him. he huffs, trying to catch his breath and shifts your leg off shoulder. you whine lowly at the loss of his weight on you, eyes fluttering and struggling to focus on him.

with a ‘okay, shh, kid’, he reaches out, wrapping his arms tight around your waist, leaning down on you again.

your small voice, already halfway back to dreamland, reached his ears in a contented sigh, “looove you, daddy…”

“mmh, i love you, my messy girl,” his teasing voice made a lazy smile spread across your face, wrapping your limbs all around him. trying to keep him as close as possible.

kisses are peppered along your neck, trailing to your lips with a playful smack. your giggles filled the space, light and airy in the quiet of your shared bedroom.

rafe smirked and pressed his hips forward into yours, swallowing the heaving sound you let out as his cock rubs against your pulsing walls. he spoke lowly against your mouth, pushing in and out — skin sticking to yours.

“how ‘bout… you squirt f’me again and i’ll think ‘bout callin’ out...”

[likesomeoneinlovee]

Need to sit on Abbots dick when I'm on my period, have me keep him warm while he massages my sore tits while I'm all whiny and soft over him

Jack never minded the mess. He’d encouraged it.

His strong arms cradled your form against his, pressing, and firm. You’d rock steadily and rhythmically on his cock, not rushed in the slightest, feeling how you stretched around his width, how your cunt swallowed him and was still left pulsing for more. Needy girl.

One of his soft, cotton sheets jumbled around the close-knit pair of tangled limbs, Abbot’s forehead rested upon yours as hot, puffs of breath fanned over your face. A broad, weighty palm crept up your side, squeezing and molding the skin as he tickled upwards. Your hips would wriggle against his, involuntarily twitching at the tentative touching.

“Jack…” You’d moan, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

“I know, baby.” He hummed.

It hadn’t been the first time his name left your lips in no less of an impatient lamentation that fateful night. Jack’s cock twitched once, still nestled comfortably inside your tender walls, that just moments ago had been fluttering out and in with an orgasm. He was already missing that.

Clinically.

He shifted, just the teeniest of amounts against his soft, cushy pillows. One of those massive palms you just loved so dearly cupped the underside of your breast, and squeezed. The one symptom of your menstrual cycle that’d never fall short of getting Jack off is those tits. Suddenly, almost too tender, so full and ripe.

On his second squeeze, you’d whine, your body squeamish. And you’d let out a long, strangled,

“Jaaaaaaaaackkkkk…”

Jack, then would only add to the stimulation with a second hand to your untouched breast.

The warmth of his palms only made matters worse, your lazy body arched towards those meaty fists that gripped onto the mounds of hearty fat. A calloused, cruel thumb brushed over your hardened nipple. It was almost unkind of him to do so. Ultimately forcing the return of a throbbing ache in your clit. The same little, sensitive pearl that had been being beat by his fingertips for the last couple of hours.

Jack’s nosed brushed against yours, nibbling on your top lip.

“I know, honey,” He cooed, too soft, too abate to be lulling, “So sore…So heavy too…”

He’d kiss the top of your bust before licking a long, hot stripe over your collar bone, as his fingers sunk deeper into your tits. Adjusting his thighs, pressing you close, tummy to tummy. Shaky, your palms went to brace on his firm pectorals, every moan wavering out of your throat.

Jack had just continued on worshiping those two, pretty things he got to call ‘his.’ Something he had finally gotten used to, now it came easy for him to chant ‘Mine mine mine mine mine…’ While fucking you deep and slow, filling you up with hot, thick spend and pecking your shoulders. Something urgently pulled the corners of his lips upwards the more you tussled on his dick. Only egging on his relentless ministrations.

“Just relax, pretty girl,” He’d punctuate the gentle, breathy words with an open-mouthed kiss to your nipple. “Daddy’s here…Daddy’s got you.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

deadpool getting jealous when you’re giving wolfie too much attention in a poly relationship!!! 🙏

‘Wade. Stop pouting.’ Logan grunted from against your neck, eyes closed shut as he tried to focus back on you and tightened his grip on your waist.

‘And how the fuck do you know I’m pouting! You’ve got your eyes closed!’ Wade exclaimed, pouting from the other side of the room, watching on in jealously as you continued to shower Logan with more affection.

‘I don’t need to open my eyes to know your pouting dipshit.’ Logan growled but his temperament was easily faltered when he felt you run your hand through his hair and scraping at his scalp deliciously, you almost swore you heard the gruff Logan Howlett purr like a domesticated cat.

‘Wade what’s wrong? You’ve been like this all week and when I go to kiss you or anything, you completely brush me off.’ You said as you looked over at him in his ridiculous pink unicorn pyjamas with matching slippers, squeezing his unicorn plushie tighter and tighter that you swore the poor thing was going to pop. You didn’t like it when either of your partners was upset or angry, they’ve been down those roads before and all you wanted was to love them as much as you can while you can; however you couldn’t do that if one of your partners was too stubborn to tell you what was wrong.

Thankfully after a total record of fifteen minutes of sighing and huffing, Wade looks over at you with the most dramatic pout on his lips. ‘Fine since my gorgeous, fantastic, sexy, hot pookie insists that I tell them what’s wrong, I’ll shall.’ He then takes a deep breath and points to the half asleep Logan cuddled up against you. ‘You have been giving lumberjack over there far too much attention lately Where’s my affection because I don’t see it! I’m being neglected! I want to be cuddled! where’s my cuddles!’ You couldn’t help but chuckle at Wade’s outburst, which only made him pout harder as he showed you his back which had a massive cartoon unicorn rearing on its back legs.

‘Great now my sexy, cool, gorgeously handsome partner is laughing at my pain, I must truly be in hell.’ He mutters to himself as he burrows his head into his arms, only then did your laughter subsided as finally spoke. ‘Don’t be like that, you know I love you and Logan equally.’ You tell him, only to hear him scoff, which made your heart hurt a little, before you the. patted the spare space of the couch with your hand, wanting to make it up to your boyfriend. ‘Stop it with the pouting and get your fine ass on over here handsome, we’ve got room for one more…if you want it that is. I’m not forcing-‘

Before you could finish your sentence, Wade bolted from his spot across the room, and clung onto your other side as he nuzzled his head against your chest, his arms latching onto you waist just beneath Logan’s own arms. ‘Thought you’d never ask sweet cheeks!’ Wade replied as he peppered kisses across your collar bones, causing your to giggle as you ran your free hand up and down his back soothingly, now feeling happy and content with both men that you love dearly being cuddled up on either side of you.

‘Good. I don’t want you to ever think I don’t love either of you because I do.’ You said as you kissed both Wade and Logan on their foreheads, noses and finally their lips as Logan sluggishly reciprocated his kiss in due to being half asleep, just as Wade almost devoured you eagerly with his own kiss.

‘I think we both know that very well peanut, and we love you all the more for it.’ Wade uttered softly as he made himself comfortable against your side, feeling his eyelids grow heavier. Wade knee you’d never made him feel jealous, not intentionally nor accidentally, but sometimes he felt a little lost whenever you spent just a small fraction more time with Logan over him. He just wants so time with you too! And so now as he burrows his head under your chin, ready to drift off, he couldn’t help but reach a hand over to squeeze Logan’s firm ass; only to find that he was one step ahead of him and quickly gripped his wrist.

‘I wouldn’t think about it bub.’ Logan murmured.

‘How is he doing that with his eyes closed.’ Wade whispered to you as you both looked at Logan as he dropped wade’s hand.

‘It’s a mystery we’ll never find out sweetheart.’ You replied as you kissed Wade on the forehead, giving his ass a little pat and a loving squeeze. You knew Wade expresses his affection in rather bold ways but only did so as long as it alright with you and Logan. He didn’t want to put you out of your comfort zone to accommodate him but you weren’t so easily fazed by his actions, not when you have been friends with him as long as you have been partners. So needless to say it wasn’t at all surprising when you suddenly picked up Wade’s tendency to squeeze and or slap your partners asses affectionately.

Much to Logan’s dismay no less but he took it in stride for your sake and occasionally Wade’s but mainly yours.

‘The author must’ve gotten pretty lazy or had a brain fart if this is how the fanfic ends.’ Wade yawns, ‘i could’ve done a far better job that’s for sure.’ He adds before falling asleep. meanwhile you stayed up wondering who the fuck this ‘author’ he was on about, and what did he mean by ‘fanfic?’

[miedei]

hashtag bring back dry humping (I LOVE YOU)

yupp real

i took this super overboard :) drabbles mlist

thinking of spencer who gets so overwhelmed by his infatuation for you sometimes. comes into the living room and sees you curled up in the corner of the sofa wrapped up in one of his caltech shirts and feels all this love and desire bubble up in his heart.

can't help but shove himself into your side on the sofa, fiddling with the the shirt's collar as an excuse to put his arm over your shoulder (he doesn't need an excuse anymore but he gets nervous sometimes). you hum softly, imagining that he's watching your show with you, but he's never been more distracted, staring fixedly at the curve of your throat, the soft skin of your collarbones.

it takes a while for you to notice, but when you do, you can't help but giggle to yourself, the lovesick look in his eye only slightly distracting you from the desire lingering underneath it.

"spence."

"yeah?" he barely looks up, his finger having dropped to trace the plane of your shoulder.

"y'want to give me a kiss, please?"

he looks up fully at that, eyes sparkling. he knows you're throwing him a bone, giving him an in where it would've otherwise taken him a solid half hour to get there. he appreciates it anyway.

smiling softly, he leans over you, taller frame engulfing your eyeline until you can't see anything but him. lips touch, and he lets out a sigh, tasting the sweetness of your laugh as he attempts to pull you as close as possible.

it gets away from you quickly, minds playing droning static as you move against one another. at some point, you've moved to be on top of him, thighs bracketing his, as his hands rest heavily on your hips.

"angel," he gasps out against your mouth, hands tightening on you.

it's only then that you realise you've been moving steadily, hips dragging softly against his. you stop, and he lets out a pitiful sound.

"i- i'm sorry," he chuckles breathlessly at your words, laying another kiss on your lips.

"don't be. do you want to?" the rest goes unsaid, but you know what he meant. you know what you want.

"i just want to do this, if that's okay."

he nods softly, leaning up to capture your lips with his once more. slowly, with the encouragement of his hands on you, you begin to move again.

the drag of his corduroy pants agains the thin linen of yours melds to create a haze of pleasure bubbling in your gut. you can't help but gasp into his mouth, moving desperately against him.

he echoes your sounds, fingers digging into the softness of your hips as he follows suit, rutting softly against you.

it's achingly intimate, soft sounds swirling into a bubble around you, both of you hyperaware of every place you touch. his lips on yours, your tongue in his mouth. your arms draped lazily over his shoulders, his gripping you tightly. your hips pressed against eachother, unable to get closer.

it amps up, rapture zapping up your spine until it's all you can focus on. you teeter on the edge of living in your mind and something else.

it takes one, two, three more movements of his hips against yours until you fall apart, pressing your forehead into the crook of his neck with a whine. he follows right after, choked sounds ripping themselves from the back of his throat.

you stay there for an uncountable amount of time, tangled up in each other, not saying a word.