#then you will be pointed at and laughed at no matter what fuckin race you are

[wittyworm]

officially in my anarchy era i cant fuckin take this anymore lol

[gh0stsp1d3r]

IDEA FOR UR TEENAGERS SERIES THINGY

Reader discovers how to use her super speed powers again while shes hanging out with all the other spiders (miles, gwen, pav, ofc her bf hobie) and they decide to go swinging around the city on her planet while shes running instead (maybe theyre having a race or something idk)

OOO

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬... 𝐏𝐭 𝟏𝟏

“Okay, so basically, you have super speed and you can control time?!” Miles exclaimed, as he drunk his shake.

“Well.. I used to be able to. I can’t do either anymore. I don’t know why but..” you shrugged, taking a sip of yours and Hobies drink.

“I definitely did not see that coming.” Gwen mumbled.

“Yeah, my girl is even cooler now, ain’t she.” He put his arm around you.

“Your girl? Thought you didn’t like labels.”

“I don’t. And you ain’t no one’s property, and you are a free woman to do whatever you want, but you are my girl.”

You looked at him in confusion but laughed. “All right then..”

“Nothing of what you just said made sense, bro.” Pavitr said.

You all laughed.

“I say.. we all have a race. Like a swinging race.”

“What about me?” You asked.

“You can run.. who knows maybe your power will come back.” Miles said, as a joke.

“Ha ha, very funny. Sure, that’s cool.” You hit his arm.

“Sounds good to me.” Pavitr said.

“Sure.” Hobie shrugged.

“Cool.” Gwen said.

You all left after a while, everyone getting ready to start swinging.

“Okay, so where do we meet?”

“Just like uh…that one park we went to.” Miles said.

“Alright.” You said.

“That’s like… 3 miles away.” Miles looked at you.

You sighed.

“If it’s too much I’ll get an Uber or something.” You shrugged.

“Alright, suit yourself.”

“1, 2, and… 3!” They all started to swing, feet off the ground. As soon as you ran, something felt off. You didn’t run often, and it was odd.

First you started off normally, then the speed increased. It increased to the point where your shoes went on fire, and you were at the park in a matter of seconds. The whole team stopped for a moment and stared in shock.

“What the-“ you mumbled, yelling as you realized your shoes were on fire. The kids and parents staring at you.

You put out the fire, and sighed.

“What?” You looked at everyone staring.

You looked and saw everyone still swinging. Hobie with a giant smile on his face as you stood there in complete shock.

“This is crazy. This is absolutely fucking crazy.” You mumbled to yourself, pacing back and fourth.

Hobie raced down to you when he got on the ground, around him turning a bright pink as his eye lenses were wide.

“Holy shit, that was so cool! We were all like ‘oh fuck mate, what the fuck is that?’ And I haven’t gotten a scooby doo on how it happened but-“

“Hobie what the fuck am I supposed to do?!” You grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna live my life running like the fuckin’ flash!”

“Don’t know who that is, but I’m sure he’s cool.”

“He is but I don’t want this.. these stupid.. oh my god. Does this mean my time powers are back to?”

“Holy shit. My future wife is so fuckin’ sick.” He said.

“Hobie! This isn’t a good thing-“

“It should be! This is fuckin’ amazing, darling.”

You sighed. “How am I gonna explain this to Miguel? He’s already pissed that we keep jumping dimensions to meet up.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“What?”

“If you don’t wanna tell him, I will.

You sighed. “All right. I’ll tell him.”

Hobie smiled and kissed you.

“Also, I kinda ruined your converse..” you said.

He looked at the shoes you had on, you lifted your leg and showed the bottom of it.

“Ehh. It’s whatever. I’ll get new ones.” He shrugged.

“By her do you by any chance mean steal?”

“You know me so well.”

“I sure do.”

Tag list:

@enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn

@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @artsykerfuffleplus @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh

[fieldsofbats]

simon riley x waitstaff! reader : getting coffee

okie dokie, the second part of the waitstaff au bc i like it when authors have a reoccurring au and i write what i like to see from others. i am also open to exploring other peoples au’s and discussing ideas. i don’t like the idea of having requests because i don’t wanna put that pressure on myself but i want to work with people and explore lots of ideas i see from people. tl;dr, send me ur ideas but not requests.

part one, part two

ghost would take the longest to ask you out, like he is a confident man (have u heard his lines???) and isn’t afraid of confrontation or anything, just doesn’t like the idea of potentially ruining anything you guys have going because he has ~feelings~

would make sure to do it either after your shift or when it is very quiet and you are the only floor staff on, wants it to be the two of you in an open and casual environment

your comfort and feelings are of the utmost importance to him always thinking: “are they okay with his?” “i’m not over stepping?” “this is okay, right?”

personally strikes me as someone who needs verbal confirmation of others feelings.

he can read a battlefield no problems, can predict movements from a mile away. your feelings??? nah, dude has no clue and needs verbal reassurance, not that he would ask for it but is amazed when you figure that out yourself. ‘fuck they are literally made for me.’

i don’t think he could actually say the words ‘let’s go on a date’, strikes me as a ‘when r u free? Let’s do this…’ kinda person. 

would have the whole thing planned out though, has prepared himself for every possible response and outcome. thinks of it as a sort of mission. 

i like the idea that he did get advice from price (daddy)

it wouldn’t be the actual task of asking you out that freaks him a bit, but the uncontrollable factor of your response. 

he can’t plan for that so is anxious about what you might say or think, hence the over planning and the private obsessiveness.

BUT YOU SAID YES, “yeah, I finish my shift at 4, we could get a coffee or snack if you want?” YES WE CAN GET COFFEE “sounds good.” SOUNDS AMAZING.

waits out the front of the restaurant for you, has been waiting since 3.

figuring out who he should wait, wants to appear casual but wants you to think he is cool. leaning on his bike? no, a bit asshole-y. casually smoking? no, you might not like that. just standing? why does it fuckin’ matter?

oh shit here they come, fuck they look so nice in the sun light. 

you smile that sweet smile of yours to him and his knees buckle as he turns to face you fully. he grips the door jam so he doesn’t fall in front of you. He’s already fucked it. 

“where were you thinking?” you asked him, completely ignoring his near face plant into the pavement.

he directs you over to a close by coffee shop, you’ve been there before so wave politely to the staff and point to the best seats in the shop. he nods and follows to the back, a small semi-private nook at the back.

he thinks it went well, he tried to avoid the topic of his work and asked you as many questions as possible. but it wasn’t to the point you were talking the entire time.

he could feel himself blushing under his mask, the slightly larger surgical style mask reaching just under his eyes. He was thankful you didn’t push him to take the mask off or tell you his real name. 

you understood that military people have a lot they can’t share, particularly someone in SAS. those folks are intense and have extremely private lives. 

one coffee turned into two, a few biscuits turned into soup for dinner. then into being asked to leave by the owner. 

“oh sorry matt. thanks for putting up with us.” you laughed and began to pack up to leave. ghost, ever the gentleman, paid and you thanked him. 

“next one is on me.” NEXT ONE?! dudes heart near leaves his body and race through the street at illegal speeds. 

he nods and quickly walks out of the shop to hide his little shiver of excitement. you ask him about his bike (i fuckin love motorcycle men omg), something he is more than happy to chat about and explain to you. 

you patiently listen for about ten minutes before he notices he hasn’t taken a breath since he started. “sorry, I’m keeping you.”, you quickly shake your head

“i like hearing you talk, mostly about things you are passionate about.” omg he lov- likes you so much. 

he nods and looks away, hiding the massive blush that comes over his nose and cheeks. 

“i’ll see you next week ghost.” you smile and wave goodbye.

he waves back and whispers to himself “for the rest of my life darling.”

okay this is kind of shit but i have written this in one sitting in the evening. feedback is always welcome as well, be respectful though. i will probably come back and edit this but enjoy :)

[youaintnothinbuta]

Fuck it out - racetrack higgins x reader

Summary: you and Race cannot get along. You fight and fight and fight— finally you get on Jacks last nerve and he shoves the pair of you into a room and won’t let you leave until your issues are solved. You and Race end up fucking the frustration out.

Pairing: fem!reader x Racetrack Higgins

Word count: 2000 (it’s worth the read though ladies, I promise)

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, coarse language, angst, arguing

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Race loathed you more than anyone in the world, and the feeling was entirely mutual. It was a deep-seated animosity that festered between you two.

He hated the way he could hear your laugh over anyone else’s. He hated the way you walk into a room and suddenly everyone’s eyes are glued to you. He hated how your arguments left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. Most of all, he hated the way you teased him.

From the moment the pair of you laid eyes on each other, you just utterly despised each other. All the Newsies knew it. At first, they tried to mediate the situation, to convince you both that the other wasn't as unbearable as you thought. It didn’t help though. Now, plan A was keep you two separated, and if that plan failed, plan B was to not leave you alone together, and plans C through Z were to simply ignore your arguments and let you two yell at each other.

You did feel guilty, of course, for putting your friends through that. The arguments- that is. You just couldn’t help it— you couldn’t see how no one else was this bothered by him.

This day, you and the newsies -including Race- were hanging outside the lodge. It was a nice day, late afternoon, sunny but not too hot, everyone was laughing and messing around like they always did. Everyone was enjoying themselves, except you and Race, who were predictably at each other's throats, bickering, it was a constant competition to see who could say the most hurtful thing to the other. Jack, who was sitting next to you, sighed heavily.

“I’m getting desperate. Please, just stop fighting for once.” Jack’s hand reached for your wrist.

“Tell him that to him then, not me!” You pointed accusingly at Race, who found it quite amusing that Jack’s telling-off seemed directed more towards you.

“Hah! See! Told you you’re the problem!” Race snickered.

“Enough!” Jack shouted, standing up. His one hand gripped onto your wrist again, the other found a handle on the back of Race’s shirt collar. He pulled you both off of your asses and dragged you up the steps and into the housing lodge, yelling at everyone to get out of one of the rooms as he shoved the pair of you in there.

“I am sick and TIRED of this. I’m done! Grow up and figure your shit out, there is no reason why you need to be fightin’ all the time. I don’t care what you need to do, yell it out, fuck it out, fuckin’ beat it out of each other- Just make it stop!” He slammed the door behind him as he exited, leaving you and Race to stare at each other like embarrassed little kids that had just been told off in front of their classmates.

You immediately went for the door knob, but to no avail. Jack must have taken one of the door stops and kicked it underneath, locking you in. Didn’t matter. You knew Jack, if you got out he’d just drag you back in again until everything was resolved. And what was that he said?

You just stood, back leant against the door, watching Race peek out the window to see Jack back down with the Newsies. It did sort of hurt him to see how much happier everyone looked the second you two weren’t around. You stood for a while, without moving, so did he, neither of you knowing what to say or do.

“I ha— I hate that we bother them so much.” He muttered, breaking the silence, still looking out.

You paused, momentarily taken aback. Race had just said something you actually agreed with? Unheard of.

“Me too,” You spoke quietly, peeling your back off the door, making your way over to Race. As you joined him at the window, your intent was to see what the boys were doing outside. He occupied most of the space in front of the window, leaving you at his side, your shoulders lightly brushing against each other. Your focus shifted from the view through the glass to the view beside you. You found yourself watching Race’s face with a newfound intensity, your gaze tracing the lines of his features as if you were seeing them for the first time.

You took note of the subtle curve of his lips, the way they naturally sat in a slight smile. Your eyes moved lower, and you couldn't help but appreciate the defined edge of his jawline.

Race could feel your stare. His gaze shifted to meet yours. His eyes locked onto your face as he too began to study your features. It was a silent exchange, a dance of mutual observation that sent a shiver down your spine.

You watched his eyes move down your face, tracing the contours of your neck, before returning to meet your gaze. The intensity in his stare was palpable, yet still so gentle, and you couldn't deny the way it made your heart rate increase.

The two of you lingered in front of each other, locked in an unspoken exchange, carefully observing each other's features as the space between your bodies continued to dwindle.

His eyes drifted shut, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation. Was Racetrack Higgins about to kiss you? And more importantly, why weren't you doing anything to stop it? Your heart raced as your own eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer, until your lips met his, bridging the gap between you. His hand instinctively sought out the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him. Your fingers wove into his hair as the kiss deepened, and Race couldn't help but release a soft, involuntary moan. The sound made you laugh against his lips.

He gripped your hips in response, pressing them into his, letting you feel his growing bulge, dragging you over him. You let out a needy cry, it was his turn to laugh at your desperation.

With a sense of urgency, your fingers began to undo the buttons on his shirt. Race responded to the rising passion between you by swiftly pushing you against the wall, his desire growing more intense. Sensing your hesitation with the buttons, he decided to take matters into his own hands, pulling his shirt over his head. His undershirt came along with it, dropping to the floor beside his feet.

Your gaze lingered on the enticing sight before you—the defined contours of his chest, the sculpted muscles inviting exploration. He watched you with a smile as you studied him, thinking it adorable the way you unconsciously bit your bottom lip. You couldn't resist the temptation to trace your fingers along the lines of his torso, feeling the warmth and strength that lay beneath his skin.

As his fingers traced a fiery trail up your legs, your hands reciprocated his movements, gliding over his back and savoring the warmth of his skin. The intimacy of the moment deepened as you kissed and gently sucked on the tender skin of his shoulders, his fingers tugged at the seam of your panties, wanting a feel of the fabric that had been rubbing against you.

“All because of me?” He looked up at you, grinning as the pad of his fingers glided across the slick that had coated your underwear.

“You’re not one to talk.” Your hand reached between his thighs, cupping the bulge in his pants, his mouth fell agape at the feeling of your hand against him.

He scoffed, laughing, before attacking your neck softly with his lips, his tongue dragging over the curve of your jaw. He nipped lightly at the skin of your neck, moving a little each time, searching for the spot that would—

“Oh.” You sighed.

Found it.

You dropped your face to reconnect your lips to his, the pad of his thumb pressed into where your clit was located below your underwear. He felt you nip at his lip at the action, tugging at it as another moan slipped from your mouth.

“You here to fuck me or tease me?” You mumbled between kissing him.

“I dunno, teasing you is kinda fun.” He smiled.

“Don’t think I’ll beg for you. I won’t.” You snarked as you nipped at his ear, kissing his jaw. He let you continue to place hot kisses all over his neck and jaw, taking the opportunity to get his pants off from around his waist, dropping his underwear with them. You felt the warm, soft skin of his cock against your thigh, a small gasp escaping your lips as you looked down at what your body was about to take in. He dipped a finger inside of you, then another, preparing you for him.

“Race.” You sighed his name, asking him to hurry up. Race’s fingers were soaked as he pulled them from your core. The tip of his cock slid between your folds, being coated by your juices as he pushed inside of you. Race didn’t care to hold back the volume of his groan as he felt your body stretch around him. Your eyes squeezed shut as you breathed out, god, any more of him and you’d be torn in half.

Race took a thumb to his mouth and collected a string of saliva on the tip of it before bringing it to your clit, drawing small circles, trying to replace your discomfort with pleasure.

He struggled to pull out of you, your walls so tight they practically sucked him back in, slowly he pushed back inside of you, picking up the pace slightly with every thrust. Both of your eyes were fixed on the sight of his body pushing into yours, until he looked up at your face, making your cheeks burn red as the realisation of what you were doing set in.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare, hm?” He cupped your face. Your mind was racing, never in a million years would you have considered Race to be gentle. The tip of his cock slammed against your cervix, releasing a series of angelic moans from you. His fingertips curled around either side of your hips, gripping you as he continued thrusting into you to hit that exact spot again and again, and he felt your legs begin to shake against his own.

What the hell? How was someone like him bringing you to orgasm this quickly? It took you longer on your own.

Race had barely even begun to feel his orgasm build, and already he had you on the verge of release. He seemed just as perplexed as he felt your walls begin to contract and spasm around him. The cry of his name and the way your body became limp as he held you against the wall, he knew just as you did- it took only minutes to get you off. The way your pussy gripped his cock during your release made it almost impossible for him to move, not that he wanted to, it felt far too good. He watched your face as pleasure rolled through your body, jolting you forward periodically.

His lips brushed over your flushed chest, your pussy loosened its grip on him, and he left you no time to breathe before going back to thrusting himself in and out of you. You caught him off guard when grinding against him, pushing his cock deeper inside of you for him. You took in every detail of his face. The swear that started to bead around his hairline, the way his jaw hung slightly open with focus, the blush that was creeping up his ears, the way his eyes seemed an even brighter blue when they were so full of lust. Even through all your hatred for him, you couldn’t deny how he beautiful he looked while railing you.

He couldn’t hold on much longer but he’d be damned to give you the satisfaction of knowing how quick you could make him cum if he wasn’t trying to keep his composure. Your legs were threatening to give out on you. If it wasn’t for his grip on your waist holding you flush against the wall you might have collapsed into a heap of convulsing pleasure at his feet. Your now not-so-swallowed moans increased, there wasn’t any hope for trying to choke them back. Race had ruined every moral you had that day. His moans began to mix with yours.

“Look at me.” He mumbled, you didn’t even realise your eyes had closed. His hazed filled eyes bore into yours, the pleasured smirk that painted his face was only ruined by his own groans. It was too much. Too much pleasure. Too much hatred. Too much desire. Race shoved a few more erratic thrusts into you before pinning the skirt of your dress around your waist and spurting his cum out onto your thighs, a string of satisfied moans coming with it. He watched as his hot come dribbled down your thighs, taking a thumb to rub some of it against you, feeling his seed coat your soft skin.

The room that was just engrossed by moans and whines and sex was now left with the quiet sound of heavy breathing.

Your body trembled with residual pleasure as you tried to comprehend what the hell just happened. You hated Race; yet he was the one who left you so full of pleasure and indulgence you couldn’t even think straight. He took a step away from you, giving you some space as he caught his breath. You breathed out, your legs unsteady as tried to take a step forward.

Race chuckled, re-approaching you, wrapping an arm around your head, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You, too, let out a shy laugh, he tried to hide a grin as he pulled his pants back up.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “You look like you live in a bawdy house.” He quipped, tossing a shirt off the floor to you to wipe yourself clean.

“Should I remind you who just came all over me?” You argued.

“Should I remind you how quickly you came?” He retorted, laying on his bed, an arm extended inviting you to lay with him. What the hell was happening? Race Higgins had just fucked the daylight out of you, went immediately back to arguing with you, and now was holding you as you laid on his chest.

You didn’t say anything as you laid together. You felt gross. Not internally. Physically. Like your underwear felt soaked against you- and not in a sexy way.

“You alright?” Race asked, feeling your sigh sink into his chest.

Why did he care?

“My own bodily fluids are squelching against me. What do you think?”

He chuckled, “Someone’s grumpy. Was one orgasm not enough?” He teased, reaching his hands down to push your underwear off of you. You sat up in shock, thinking for a moment he was going for round two.

“Relax, just getting these off so you’re a bit more comfortable.” He pulled them off your ankles and dropped them on the floor, his hands finding your back, guiding you back down to lay on him again.

He reached for his comforter, pulling it up to cover your back. “You just relax, sweetheart. I know you’re probably tired.”

Why was he caring for you? Why was he looking after you? God, you hated him. You hated how this was the safest you’d ever felt. Your expression on your face loosened as your mind drifted further and further from consciousness, your eyes slowly closing as the rhythm of his breathing underneath you lulled you into a nap. He too, with the comfort of your weight on his body, was able to drift off into a nap, forgetting entirely about the fact that Jack and the rest of the newsies were just downstairs.

[sunnyie-eve]

4 | Flickering

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: none

| MASTERLIST |

~

"I think it's that way." Nick points as Sam and Colby forgot how to get to Samantha's painting.

"I think it's that way." Chris point in a different direction.

"Where is Samantha?" Colby thinks.

"Definitely that way." Dani agrees with Nick.

"You agree?" Chris asks here.

"It's that way." Matt agrees too holding all the balls for Samantha.

"I would actually bet $100, it's that way." Nick tells Chris as Colby jokes about an alone invitation to which Nick says no to.

"He's not that confident." Dani laughs at him.

"I'm very confident right there to the left." Matt says pointing into the direction.

Sam ends up asking who was the smartest out of the tree and Chris says Matt wasn't then says he's dumbest so the other two agree with him, "I wasn't gonna say it but if you're gonna say it." Nick nods his head.

"Okay, three of us know where to go, so Matt, please." Dani tells him and he leads the way.

"Cause we came out that elevator and went all the way around through here." Matt recalls to the group, mostly Sam and Colby.

"Just trust us Colby." Dani rubs his back as they walk side by side.

"I think Samantha would've liked Rupaul's Drag Race if she got old enough." Nick says stopping by the painting.

"If not she'd miss out on some iconic queens."

"See, one of the reasons we're best friends." Nick says so Dani wraps her arms around him smiling as Colby pulls candy out of Sam's backpack.

"We want Samantha to follow us for the rest of the night." Colby tells them, "She's a nice ghost." He adds, "I'm gonna lur-," Colby and Chris start to laugh realizing how it sounds. "This was a better idea on paper."

"Guys, don't cancel us please." Sam turns the camera to himself, "She's a ghost that's 120 years old. It's not creepy."

"She's technically 124, not four." Matt adds.

"Little kids literally see ghost, I'm convinced." Chris speaks up, "Little kids and dogs."

Dani sees the look on Matt's face making her laugh a bit, "Dude, Matt you okay?" She snaps him back.

"I guess," He puts on a smile.

Colby talks out the rumor that Samantha might also be Ruth so Chris makes joke about Ruth being Samantha's green counterpart before they all take a piece of candy to put at the painting for her to follow them.

Going back down to where Samantha passed, Matt and Dani both see the light flickering. Colby says that's what Samantha is known for and they point out it's only the one by the stairs.

"So what happened when she died is she was chasing after a ball and that made her tumble and break her neck." Sam tells the brothers, "So,"

"Yeah, and you are fuckin makin fun of her." Colby tells them as Chris's jaw hags open hearing what happened to her.

"I feel bad now. Sorry Samantha." Chris apologizes.

''Samantha, if you can hear us there's two flashlights here at the top of the staircase." Sam lets her know.

"You can go up to either one of them it doesn't matter." Dani adds so a flashlight comes on.

"The ghosts like Matt and Dani the most." Chris says as the flashlights go off while they talk and ask questions.

"If it's multiple do you wanna shut the red flashlight off?" Nick asks the ghosts and the red one turns off for them, "Oh my god. That was crazy."

"Wow." Matt stares at the flashlight.

"Samantha, did you come down here with us?" Dani asks so the blue flashlight turns on.

"I can't believe how lucky you guys are tonight." Chris looks at Matt and Dani.

"Samantha are you happy we brought you some balls?" Sam asks her making Colby chuckle which makes Matt and Chris laugh too.

The flashlight turns on, "She likes balls." Colby stats making Matt keep laughing as he looked at him.

"If we were to toss these down the stairs. Will you show yourself?" Sam asks making Dani look at him.

"Sam, you wanna add another to your list?"

"I-, Dani, I can't relive my bad past with little girl spirits." He shakes his head at the thought.

"He had a little girl stuck in his ass one time." Colby sums it up for the three making them laugh at Sam.

They break out the SLS camera to see if they could capture Samantha on camera but she never shows up for them.

Matt asks her a few questions and both flashlights turn on at the same time since she didn't know which one she wanted to pick.

They leave the stairs and head to Carlota's room next, "Does it have a different scent in here?" Colby asks as they enter the mezzanine, "Smells like grandma."

"It does give off that scent." Dani agrees.

"We have to rizz Carlota." Colby tells the boys while Dani just stands around looking at all the mirrors in the dark, "She's in here with all her vortex mirrors. That are nine million dollars."

"You should steal at least one." Chris tells him.

"Hey there Carlota, there's five single men here. Expect one is off limits." Matt tells her

"Yes." Nick nods his head, "Yeah." Everyone laughs at him, "I got nothin for ya." He adds.

"But he makes a great friend. Especially to rant to." Dani rests her head on his shoulder.

"And we have Dani here as well if you need a girl friend as well." Nick puts an arm around her giving her a side hug.

"Saw a picture of you, you're pretty hot." Colby tells her.

"Oh, straight to it." Chris laughs.

"I feel like that won't work on her. She's way too classy for that. She's an Empress." Dani tells her brother.

The boys try to think of back then rizz so they just say she's really pretty because they couldn't think of anything.

"I hate that I can see my own reflection like forty times." Chris stands in front of his mirror and the others agree with him that it's scary.

"Empress Car-lota,"

Dani laughs at Colby, "You fucked her named up dude." Nick then says it correctly for Colby.

"I'm sorry," Colby apologizes, "Empress Carlota," He says right this time making Nick and Dani quietly laugh so hard they hold on to each other, "My beautiful maiden. Please come into this room and talk to us. We would love to get to know you.

"Alright, I'm up guys." Chris says, "Empress Carlota, we'd love to have some conversation with you tonight. We got some fine handsome, handsome, gentleman. We're ready to rizz you up."

Dani places her hand over her mouth to stop her from laughing at him, "That was terrible." She giggles to herself while Nick tells him to be serious.

"Hey Empress Carlota. If you wanna talk to us tonight we're ready to communicate." Nick says on his turn.

"Hey Empress Carlota, if you wanna come out here and talk to us. Feel free to do it. And if you're not even Empress Carlota, and you're in this room, come on in."  Matt speaks up.

After Sam goes they get the EMF rope out that basically does the same thing as a regular EMF but covers a longer area.

"Why are these on Sam, over here?" Colby asks as some of the lights were already lit up.

"Ugh, that shouldn't be." He goes to move the string but it stays lit up.

"So they're all supposed to be pink right now?" Nick asks them.

"They're supposed to be this color, yeah." Colby tells him.

Sam goes on about how there might just be some electrical wiring under the floor right there so the pick up the rope to move it to the side.

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

SO. SEVERAL POINTS TO MAKE. So many severals that I’m gonna make this a read more.

S Rank for Majima Everywhere, was gonna go to the ‘final showdown’ (which can’t actually be final cause I KNOW I can get to Triple S Rank, right? but whatever) but we’re not ready for it to end, so me and bestie were like “okay we’ll save it for later, for now let’s do more plot” because we have no side missions to find.

Yall won’t fuckin believe this. By doing more plot, we managed to get to the bit where Majima himself texts us to warn us about some guys who are after us (look, this makes me emotional okay? Nishida didn’t email or call, no, Majima got a fucking phone and personally messaged Kiryu telling him he was worried for him. I just....I need a minute okay). And I immediately go OH NO because then it’s the fuckin bit where he helps us kick ex-Dojima family ass (very beautifully btw) AND IS SHOT INTO THE FUCKING SEA.

AND KIRYU.

DOES.

NOTHING.

I was laughing, I’ll admit, because it’s so funny for Kiryu to see Majima get fucking shot and just be like “he’ll be fine lol”, but I am actually really annoyed by it, and more importantly, so are bestie and bae. (Bear in mind, bae hasn’t really understood why I love Majima but he’s grown fonder of him, probably from doing all the Majima Everywhere stuff in quick succession).

For me, it’s the fact that Kiryu straight up says he doesn't have time, Kazama is a priority rn. Okay, ignoring the fact that I’ve been playing a bug tiddy card game and racing plastic fast cars and hanging out with hostesses instead of the Actual Plot so God knows why he’s got a problem with prioritising anything other than that, it honestly makes me so sad how Majima just...isn’t a priority for Kiryu.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Kiryu, I don’t hate him (bae currently does), but Majima is so clearly fucking obsessed with him and cares about him, and Kiryu just...doesn’t get it?? I’m kinda joking when I call them boyfriends but I’m also not. Mad as he is, Majima cares about Kiryu and everything he’s done has been for his own sake. He’s always got his eye on him, always trying to help him get his strength and skill back, trying to hang out and play games with him for God’s sake, and Kiryu gives him nothing. 

I think to him, Majima is....a fact. He’s the Mad Dog of Shimano, he’s everywhere, no matter what he’ll be there to barge his way into a fight or a game or whatever Kiryu’s up to. He doesn’t have to worry about him, the man’s unstoppable and unhinged, no matter what, he will be fine. But, even if that were true....I feel like he should still care. What would Kiryu do if one day, Majima wasn’t there? If the guy he rolls his eyes at and considers a nuisance, but a consistent nuisance, suddenly wasn’t there? Was truly out of commission, truly hurt? What then? Would he care? What would it take for Kiryu to see that Majima is mortal, that he’s human?

He keeps giving us glimpses behind the mask, let’s it slip for just a moment here and there, and Kiryu just goes ‘damn Majima-san is so weird, you never know what he’s thinking’ WELL MAYBE IF YOU TRIED TO LEARN TO READ HIM KIRYU YOU’D KNOW!!!!

Again, I knew this happens, but bae and bestie didn’t, and they’re genuinely really upset at Kiryu for it. They even assumed he drove the truck into Shangri-La because he was pissed at Kiryu but to their surprise, no!!! He doesn’t even bring it up!!! He just wants to fight Kiryu cause that’s what he’s into, and he calls him amazing before passing out. They’re mad at Kiryu on Majima’s behalf which I find very funny but I’m also vindicated because yes, they too are starting to see Majima as Boyfriend Material.

I will reiterate, I DO NOT HATE KIRYU. I just really really love Majima and I’m sad he doesn’t get shown even a fraction of that love by anyone in this game. Poor baby :(

[texasthegreatdestroyer]

I reiterate. Unhinged.

This dumb broad just assumed that this person was from lolcow, and wasn’t just an onlooker from tumblr. Hey Gyaru? You’re still in the wrong here. Someone POLITELY asking you about your heritage does not warrant telling someone to go off themselves with bleach. If you suspected they were from lolcow and you didn’t feel comfortable sharing, you could have not made an ass out of yourself by assuming their intent, but instead say “Sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable answering this.” Also take a good look at the time stamps on this screenshot. It’s pretty fuckin clear this bitch went to google and searched up sub groups, considering the post was originally made an hour ago as of the time the screenshot was taken, and then 45 minutes ago when she finally stated her ethnicity, there’s a 15 minute time lapse between the og post her finally answering the question. On top of that, she does a literal self report here, because look at the phrasing when she says which subgroup she’s apart of. She also adds in that the Wikipedia says that the Sintesa Subgroup isn’t considered romani. Granted, that’s incorrect, I looked at the Wiki, and the wiki specifies that they are considered romani, but that’s besides the point, Gyaru, you aren’t a very smart liar. It looks pretty damn sketchy when it takes you 15 minutes after your original post that takes place after an encounter where someone asked you this the first time to finally say what group you’re from. It’s not a mathematical equation dummy. You don’t need a degree in rocket science to answer the question. It’s a simple answer being either one word because you tell them the subgroup, or it’s as simple as saying. Nah. I’m not divulging that info. Additionally, why does what the wiki say matter in this context? You’re the only one who brought up the wiki in tandem with you finally mentioning what subgroup you’re part of. The fuck kind of crack are you on? Lol. You know though. I can kind understand why you chose to brand your sims account after Gyaru. It’s a western influenced Japanese clothing style that’s quite heavily known for it’s usage of borderline black face. With how often you transition races apparently, it’s quite fitting. I’m legitimately laughing my ass off about this shit. Like my guy... I don’t even need to embarrass her at this point. She’s embarrassing herself! I’m just added commentary for those who can’t wrap their tiny brains around it, and I’m living for every second of this shit. Everyone’s being caught with their pants down today mother fuckers!

[crushmeeren]

♡ Bakugou / Fem Reader

☠ Master List Link

♡ Summary; sucking Katsuki off while he’s wearing his hero mask as a bandanna? Yeah… sucking Katsuki off while he’s wearing his hero mask as a bandanna. Enjoy.

ヘ( ^o^)ノ＼(^_^ )

“Fucking — shitty hair will you shut the hell up for one second? Tell the other idiots I’ll be on in a minute. Impatient bastards.”

Katsuki’s irritated voice filters through your open bedroom door and you laugh softly to yourself. He’s definitely speaking to Kirishima on the phone in reference to the guys blowing up his messages all day long. Badgering him relentlessly to get on his Xbox and play Elden Ring.

You pad into the living room, planning on dropping down next to your boyfriend on the couch and taking part in the entertainment that is Katsuki carrying his friends on his back, but you stop short once you see him.

Now, Katsuki is always smoking hot, but there’s something different about his current appearance that’s filling you with the urge to squeeze your thighs together more than usual.

The hero’s just standing in front of the couch, hands casually resting on his hips and half heartedly paying attention to whatever anime he had playing. So you take the ample opportunity to eyeball his figure while he’s distracted.

He’s clad in his normal attire. A black tank top, black athletic shorts, black quarter length crew socks — Jesus Katsuki, do you wear anything else besides black?

Katsuki’s monochromatic fashion choices aside, nothing seems out of the ordinary. You scan him from head to toe once again and zero in with wide eyes on the hero mask that’s currently pinning his bangs from his forehead.

A jolt of something electric buzzes throughout your limbs, warmth curling in your belly and creeping up into your cheeks. You can’t even fathom why the sight is so salacious, but it’s got you stunned — worked up to an embarrassing degree.

Katsuki twists his torso first, then shifts his entire body to face you and suddenly your lips are so chapped you have to lick them.

“What is that?” You ask incredulously, pointing to the black material securing his hair. Katsuki’s shoulders instinctually hike to his ears, hackles bristling as his chin inches upwards in defiance.

“What’s what?” His lip curls slightly, fingers subconsciously lifting to trace the cloth decorating his hairline.

“Are you….wearing your hero mask as a bandanna?”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but there’s a petal pink blush pouring over his cheeks. You shift your weight from foot to foot, gawking at Katsuki like he’s an exhibit on display and the blonde grumbles to himself.

“Yeah and? I lent my other ones to Ei and my hair’s gettin’ too fuckin’ long.” Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest and arches an eyebrow irritably. You gnaw at the inside of your bottom lip, a thrill racing down your spine.

Your eyes flicker all over his face and you’re hit with the same jarring sensation of awe and thoughts that this man cannot seriously be this pretty you had the very first time you laid eyes on your boyfriend.

The mask beautifully accentuates his sharp features and saliva gathers behind your teeth. You want to kiss and bite and suck on whatever skin you can get your mouth on, preferably the silky skin of the thick cock you know he’s got hiding in his briefs.

You realize you’ve been silent for too long when you notice Katsuki’s face start to twist, jaw clenching tightly and yet all you can come up with is a measly —

“Oh.”

You take a step closer then, maneuvering until you stand in front of the blonde and between your coffee table. Katsuki narrows his eyes, scarlet gaze starting to simmer as he gets visibly irked.

“The hell’s the matter with you? You got a prob — ack!” You cut off his complaint with a shove to the center of his chest. The amount of force you used to knock him down equated to child’s play, so clearly he’s not opposed to… wherever you’re planning on taking this.

In the blink of an eye you sink to the floor in between his spread legs, shamelessly glancing up at him from under your lashes. Katsuki wears a thunderstruck expression, lips parted slightly and brows shooting upwards.

“No, no problem,” you assure, smoothing your hands over his sinewy thighs, muscles jumping the closer you get to the hem of his athletic shorts.

Katsuki regains his composure faster than you would’ve liked and the blonde snorts in amusement, snatching your wrists to keep them from snaking under his shorts to grab at his cock.

“You sure bout that baby?” He taunts playfully. “Cuz you knocked me on my ass for wearing my fucking hero mask.”

You push your lower lip out, straining in his grip but ultimately unable to break free.

“No! I swear, you just..” You trail off with a sigh, gazing darting to the couch and back to his face with a flush so hot it burns the tips of your ears. “I can’t explain it but you look stupid fucking hot with your mask like that Kat.”

The arrogant smirk he sports gets even bigger and you almost regret not biting your tongue. He squeezes your wrists once before letting go, instead folding them behind his head as he reclines on the couch’s backrest, looking entirely too self satisfied.

“Yeah? So hot you wanna suck my cock?” He winks, looking downright sinful spread out in front of you but you manage to hang onto a shred of dignity and roll your eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Sure as hell looks that way. Go ahead princess, I won’t bite.”

Internally you war with the flash of annoyance his cocky attitude brings and the strengthening urge to get his dick in your mouth. Nevertheless, as soon as Katsuki hums appreciatively when your playful fingers push his tank top up to his collarbone you make up your mind.

It’s a breeze to yank off Katsuki’s shorts and briefs, letting them pool on the floor nearby. It’s effortless to leer at the way his hard flushed cock bobs free, leaky tip leaving a sticky kiss along his happy trail as it gently smacks his lower belly.

Katsuki shifts so his ass is closer to the edge of the couch and you brace your hands on his thighs, eagerly closing the distance to lick the taught skin between his balls and up up up his shaft to the rosy pink tip.

“Fuckkk,” he hisses lowly, hips chasing your mouth of their own accord. His head tilts to the ceiling and you shift forward with a hand curled around his base to steady him. You brace your free hand on his inner thigh and push his tip between the purse of your soft lips.

The satin like skin and hefty weight of his cock on your tongue is a deep satisfaction you didn’t realize you were pining for. The barely there hint of sweat and salt excites your tastebuds, and you swallow half of him in one easy glide.

Deft fingers thread through the hair at the back of your skull, pushing gingerly to encourage you further down. You allow him the freedom to guide you before resisting the pressure and dragging your lips back up along his shaft.

You bob your head steadily, tracing the underside with your tongue and your toes curl in your socks the more Katsuki loses his too cool demeanor. His moans are breathy and raspy, spilling unabashedly into the air.

You keep going and going until a few moments later sees you sucking harshly on the upstroke and it tears a yelp from Katsuki’s chest, hips jerking into the tight suction and choking you by accident.

Tears gather at your lash line and you squeeze your eyes shut to clear your blurry vision, forcing them to cascade down your cheeks and under your chin.

Katsuki starts to pant erratically, these little breaths that start out as soft gasps and end as huffs. The sound of nails scraping over fabric seems deafening when Katsuki claws at the couch with his free hand.

“Oh my god — baby that feels so fucking good,” Katsuki whines through gritted teeth, white knuckling his grip in your hair. “Fuck! Look at me princess, please, I wanna see your face when I cum.”

The words send heat flaring in a direct line to your core, clit pulsing and pussy clenching desperately around nothing.

Your eyes flash open and take in Katsuki’s expression. He’s flushed down to his nipples, gaze gone half lidded and pupils dilated wildly. Katsuki wrenches you back by your hair until only his head rests between your lips. Your scalp stings and you ponder for half a second whether you’ll have a knot there or not, but still you wait for his direction.

“M’gonna fuck that velvet throat and make myself cum, okay princess?” You flick your tongue over his slit in lieu of a response and Katsuki’s thighs tremble under your hand.

Then, he’s framing your cheeks with large calloused palms, snapping his hips frantically into your mouth and suffocating you more than a few times.

His keeps whimpering, the noise dancing in your ears and it’s a tale tell sign he’s close. You’re using every ounce of will power to keep your eyes open but your jaw aches something fierce, your knees are smarting on the floor and your lungs are burning.

Mercifully Katsuki pushes you away by the forehead and you gulp down much needed air. Katsuki fists his cock deliriously and bites his lower lip, the defined muscles of his stomach rolling and clenching as his hips lift off the couch.

“Paint my face Katsuki, c’mon,” you all but demand, voice scratchy and wrecked from getting utterly fucked.

He cries out your name, paying the most attention to the sensitive area under the crown of his head as he cums. Stripes of warm release streak your cheeks and you stick your tongue out to catch what you can. With a groan Katsuki deflates into the couch, chest heaving as he tries to recover.

Your arousal is dire, burning through your veins and saturating your panties but you try to quell it so Katsuki can catch his breath. You rise up on shaky legs, twisting to flop down next to him on the couch and coughing to clear your sore throat.

“Here, use this.” Katsuki thrusts his balled up tank top in your direction, the other arm thrown over his eyes to cover his bright blush.

“Thanks baby.” His embarrassment makes you giggle. You take the shirt and wipe as much nasty cum off your face as you can

Katsuki peaks an eye out from under his arm before lowering it completely once you finish cleaning your face. He hums, hand reaching over to tangle his fingers with yours and you notice his palm is sweaty. A sweet warmth unravels in your chest at the affectionate gesture.

You look him over and take note of his state of undress. He’s only wearing his mask now. You cover your mouth trying to stifle your snort of laughter but Katsuki just stares at you quizzically anyways.

“You going to play your game naked?” You ask with amusement. He glances down at himself and laughs roughly, standing and pulling you to your feet as he goes.

“Fuck that. I’m taking your ass to bed. Like hell if I’m not makin’ you cum now.” He grins slyly, canines poking out.

Your desire resurfaces with a vengeance and you jump forward, yanking on his hand as you lead the way to your room, telling him to hurry the fuck up. He barks out a laugh at your eagerness and follows obediently.

When he gets online later all the guys gang up on him for taking so long. Katsuki just yells over them and states with a smug tone and puffed up chest that he had something much better to do than watch them die like fucking idiots. You grin from your cozy spot beside him, leaning up to brush the edge of his mask with your finger tips and he sends you a playful wink in response.

Katsuki deliberately starts wearing his mask as a bandanna more often after that.

[carli-meows]

my favourite thing about my stories (and what little is written so i better get on that)

is that there are a select few characters who have justified "god complexes" (i have to look into if that's the right term i mean)

VehkTeeri and the entirety of the Yalíe family are very certain they themselves are gods of the world they live in, due to them having met me

i self inserted and had a little fanfiction in my head and after deciding that no one would take me serious if i walked up to one of my OC's and go "it's me your god" they would laugh my ass away

Every single Yalíe believes they are the bringers of mischief as a necessity in a drab world, which isn't true since the world ive created is fuckin stupidly filled with plot holes and undiscovered cultures, but they did inadvertently (oh god please) create the Scurra (The one's responsible for bringing all 3 races of Jyezter together and also saved the world those 2 times) and The Enlightened (The two entities responsible for guiding Yalíes to their destiny, wherever that may be (ex: Caliko Jack, Queen with the Biggest Cock).

Given, they're pretty cocky about their existence, one of them is literally a cowboy spider at one point and acts like they're the fuckin whip. they're fun.

VehkTeeri has connections to 4 different bloods and has been cursed by the Gladiator Black Hole, part Cloune, part Myme, part Lizard, and part Time Lord. She believes her destiny will come to her, and it's only a matter of time, which, yeah, that's partly true.

Given, she also is very burnt out from the whole "every family ive ever been apart of is lost, they're not dead i just keep shifting through time and ending up on the other ends of universes" thing, which is why she's EXTREMELY pissed off during her time with the Deranged Myme Crewe, she's tired of losing the ones she loves, she's tired of people who dont take these moments seriously, she's tired of having people pull up and not take HER seriously. she's fun.

I love how no matter how much i try to create a world where nobody has anything super serious life ruiningly bad to complain about, I create characters who are extremely bitter and constantly miffed at the world. like we all know a motherfucker who will walk in a room on your day off chilling enjoying the day and just go "DAMN MAN FUCK" for no goddamned reason, you ask em whats wrong, bam, some shit they could've fixed moments ago. but you're a decent fuckin homie, and you know venting is important.

I love what I've found out about myself in every character i created, I love GizMoe for how little he cares about image, it's all about being there for those you love. his show your strength though your glare and only soften it to the ones you care for kinda shit. I love Davvy, for her "go with it, laugh through it, and make it to the next one" attitude, she lives everyday to keep her life relaxing and interesting no matter what. she's unable to be intimidated, and only persuaded.

i love my creations, I wish i could be immortal for that only and literally nothing else.

i dont want to live forever, but god damn it i want to keep creating.

[earthtooz]

bakugo fluff to heal the soul!

bakugo katsuki was fuming in his seat.

it’s not necessarily strange for him to be doing so, but normally it was due to the antics of kirishima and kaminari that gets him all riled up. this time though? it was you.

it all started the moment you stepped foot into the classroom because as soon as mina noticed you, she was already shouting her heart out at this hour of the morning (not that the time mattered much to bakugo because he wanted her to shut up at all times of the day).

but it was what she said that ticked him off even more.

“y/n! you’ve got an admirer!”

bakugo katsuki had to watch in slow-fucking-motion how your face lit up in a (beautiful) smile that almost had his anger raging as wildly as his explosions because it wasn’t him that was making you smile like that.

it wasn’t his love letter that had you giggling and flustered, it wasn’t his bouquet of flowers that you were fawning over and it wasn’t his box of sweets that you were admiring. only he had the right to make you feel like that. 

bakugo is brought out of his misery with the familiar voice of a certain red-haired. “oi! thought you’d never confess to y/n, finally grew a pair?” kirishima asked, bending down to match the blond’s seated position. 

bakugo scowls harder as he gruffly murmured, “that wasn’t me.”

“oh man! really?” kirishima looked back at your desk, noticing the gentle way that you were handling the gifts, setting them down on the floor beside you. “i guess y/n is popular, better shoot your shot before it’s too late.”

small explosions spark from bakugo’s palms as he screams, “i know, dumbass!” 

for the rest of school he had to witness the dazed, delicate expression you wore, paired with a gentle smile that never seemed to fade from your lips the whole day. he even found you fiddling with the card you received, reading it over for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. 

bakugo could write a better one. 

and if that wasn’t enough, he had to watch the way you held the gifts closely in your arms, cradled protectively to your chest as you tried to preserve their sacredness, hearing about how you were going to ‘put the flowers on my windowsill. they’ll be so pretty!’. 

he was going to blast those stupid floras into pieces, not understanding why you were feeling so special over some stupid extra’s ‘chivalrous’ actions because you deserved far better.

and you better fucking believe that he could make you smile wider than anyone else 

that’s what he did, knocking on your door ferociously the next day, bakugo katsuki was holding an even bigger bouquet of arranged flowers, far more grand than the small one you received yesterday, as well as some of your favourite pastries from the local bakery that you always took him to. and as a card? well, it was him. did you need any more? 

was his heart racing because of nerves or because of spite? he didn’t know.

“coming!” your voice comes from the other side of the door and sure enough, the telltale sign of a door unlocking reaches bakugo’s ears. you greet him with a smile, “oh, hey! bakugo- whoa, that is a big bouquet of flowers.”

“‘s for you,” he grumbles, unable to look away from your expression, gauging for a reaction. you’re silent for a moment before pointing at yourself. 

a weak ‘me?’ slips past your mouth.

“who else, dumbass? you’re the only one worthy of fuckin’ flowers.”

he dumps them in your arms and you gape at him. “wait- was it you that gave me-”

“nope, but you best believe i outdid them.”

you laugh, a sound that bakugo has grown to cherish over the time you’ve spent together. with a softer, adoring look in your eyes, bakugo thinks he’s reached the peak of life as you meet his gaze. “thank you, bakugo,” you say quietly but there’s something in your voice that tells him that you’re trying to keep your giddiness on the low. he can tell in the way that you marvel at the flowers with a wondrous expression, holding them to your heart.

he scoffs, not in a dismissive way, but in a manner of content.

“oi, i’m takin’ you out tomorrow night, on a date.” bakugo tells you and your chest flutters in the way that it always does when you’re around him. “you’re always pretty so i don’t need to tell you this, but dress nice.”

you beam at him and his heart stutters, “‘kay, only for you though.”

“don’t say shit like that!” the blush on bakugo’s face tells you enough as he stomps away.

he’s happy when you send him a picture of his flowers that sit pretty on your windowsill.

[chil2de]

Your sharing a bed with the JJK men hc's were incredible 😩 special mentions for Megumi's bed head, Nanami being a secret cuddle bug, and Yuuta having to drink both iced coffees (that fucking sent me fjdndnfd I could picture it so clearly).

You're super talented so could I, er, possible get a NSFW version? 👀 💳💥💥💥💳💳💥💳💥

Thank you so much 🥺💕

hello anonie!!! thank you dear i’m so glad you liked them!! please the credit card emojis had me cackling LMFAOOOO you really made my whole day out here!!!(THE ICED COFFEE WAS MY FAVOURITE PART TOO)

well i managed to hit the max amount of characters allowed in a tumblr post with five characters alone so i’m going to have to split this up into several posts. it just kinda happened ig

characters in this post: itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro toji (megumi was supposed to be here but i had to reserve him for next post😔)

this work is nsfw. if you’re new here, please read my disclaimer before proceeding. thank you and enjoy!

based off of this post

itadori

- itadori would prob be a ‘deer in the headlights’ if you woke him up in the middle of the night

- but after that? shit, he’s so nice to you. so kind and generous for his baby girl. whether he’s fucking you ‘cause he thinks you might be able to sleep after an orgasm or there’s just an incessant desire for him- doesn’t really matter all that much to itadori. he loves you either way :)

- gets horny so easily LMFAO

- would 100% dick you down if you asked him to and i like to think that he still keeps his really sweet personality during sex cause aaaa he would be so soft and reassuring

- hardcore dom yuuji sounds sexy as all hell but let’s be real… this man won’t kill a fly and apologises for stepping on ants. only exception being angry sex but overall reserving hard dom for sukuna :)

you pepper tiny kisses onto itadori’s face, treating him with the utmost care like handling fine china. his skin feels so soft against your lips, and he smells very faintly of milky soap. there’s some traces of brand cologne on his shirt, as well as his natural scent.

“yuuujiii-“ you coo, blowing air very gently. when he doesn’t stir, you run your fingertips through a bundle of his cotton candy tainted hair. it evokes a reaction from him, so you continue to press him.

“y-uuuu-ji!”

after a few moments, itadori lets out a soft whine before grumbling incoherent blabber. “i won’t eat the pineapple! kugisaki will scream at me!”

you giggle before prodding him again, when finally he relents and jolts awake, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted at how close your face is to his.

“‘s it morning yet?” he wrinkles his nose, stifling a yawn. you emit a hum in thought before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you into him. itadori squeaks in surprise when he feels you latch your lips onto his neck, suckling and carefully breaking the bonds underneath his sensitive skin. his moan comes out groggy, still laced with sleep.

“that drives me crazy, you know that, right?” itadori laughs, though his voice comes as a wobble.

“i know. and they look so good on you too, hm?” you giggle, caressing one hand from his neck and then down to the hem of his shirt. your fingertips flutter against his bare skin and he shivers physically and audibly. you smooth your palm flat along his chest, dragging your nails carefully against his muscles.

“kinda.. wanna.. go to.. sleep.. but i don’t.. wanna fall asleep…” itadori mumbles against his pillow. the fabric muffles most of it, but there’s a strain in his voice that leads you to believe he’s moaning lightly. guess after sukuna ripped his heart out, this area hasn’t been quite the same, huh?

“so? then go to sleep, yuuji. i’ll be fine-“ “-no way! i gotta take care of you”

“so why don’t you?”

“‘m going to! i was asleep just half a minute ago!”

“and besides-“

he shifts himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headrest. itadori opens his arms, motioning for you to crawl on top of him. without any haste, you clamber over his built frame, ghosting just over the print of his hard dick.

“not that i mind but- we did, you know, in the morning already-“ “oh, shit, sorry- it’s totally fine if you don’t want t-“ “-just messing with you!”

itadori pulls your neck down and gifts you with the same treatment you were offering him earlier. his tongue is hot and wet against your skin and you can already feel the precipitation forming at the back of your knees. calloused yet tender hands smooth around your waist and he smooths his palms over your shoulder blades.

after itadori’s satisfied with the mark he left, you can’t help but groan a little into his mouth when his lips suddenly claim yours. he drinks you up, relying solely on your taste like he’s drowning and you’re the air he needs.

itadori takes his sweet time cherishing you, or rather it’s still his state of half slumber, but you can feel a dull ache prick your abdomen. you scratch up his shirt, motioning for him to take it off. you’re unsure what comes over you, but shit, you don’t want him- you need him.

“heyheyhey, ‘s okay. don’t worry, i got you.”

“i’ll take care of you.”

“just relax, okay? i got this.” he only coos with sweet reassurances, peppering small kisses and handling you with the utmost precision.

you whimper, balancing your palms flat against his abdomen for additional support as you sink down onto itadori’s cock. he lets out a hum of content, forehead bumping against yours as he allows you to adjust.

“you good?” he murmurs after a few moments, capturing a few strands of your hair in between his fingertips. you nod meekly and itadori hisses out a breathy exhale. he’s sure that if he goes rough as shit you might end up more broken than being able to sleep, so he screws his eyes shut and exhales to maintain his composure.

blazing hot lips scrape against your ear, and his voice comes out in a husky tone.

“tell me how you want it.”

by the lords of everything and all that is holy, itadori only chants the same phrase over and over in his mind. it’s a miracle that he’s able to think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock. he’s more than happy to take it slow, reward you with slow and long strokes while he showers you with high praises. but he can’t ignore the twitch that he experiences when he envisions that pretty lil fucked out face of yours, all messy and ruined for him.

you mutter that you have no preference, that you don’t care because anything he’ll do for you is perfect, and it only gives him a beaming smile at your words.

itadori grabs the scrunched up ball of his shirt that he was wearing before ripping the fabric into half with his bare teeth. you watch his eyebrows perk when he notices how fucking hot you just found that, evident with the way your walls fluttered around him.

“here, babe.”

you part your lips and he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, there’s a little bit of excess hanging out, but he reminds you that you look sexy as hell either way, on top of his dick like that with your hands on his chest, legs spread, face flushed and ready for him.

“don’t wanna be wakin’ anyone else up.”

yuuta

this man is about to end my whole career

yuuta wouldn’t bring it up on his own accord just because… respect.. and he doesn’t want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable into doing things you’re not ready to.

it’s kind of a gray area for him because he doesn’t relish the idea of bringing up sensitive and/or extremely awkward topics so he really said ‘i’ll leave it up to future me’s problem’

but holy shit. let me absolutely tell you.

the second you hint at it? anything of the sorts? 0 to 100. he is FREAKY you cannot tell me he’s innocent just LOOK at the man

can make you scream with ease. all that practice he’s been doing with handling katanas? he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum. will gladly lick up your leftover juices and remark with a smile on his face how ‘it tastes good, angel’

similarly to itadori, i think he would be sweet and patient when asking for your preferences, etc, but after that you’re gonna have to find something to bite onto

“and? what’d you tell her?” yuuta remarks from over his fanned out deck of three cards. his gaze flickers to you as he awaits a response before using his index and middle finger to lay down a +4 card.

“red, by the way.”

you huff and glare at your boyfriend, picking up four cards and attempting to hold them in such a way that they don’t all fall and rattle to the floor. truth be told? you’re seriously a sore fuckin’ loser. you don’t know how he does it, but you’ve never managed to win a game against yuuta.

“i told maki-san that it’s her problem, not mine. if she’s so pressed about people taking them, why does she keep noodles stored in the fridge? really, noodles in the fridge? they’re really spicy as well! made my nose run like hell.” you scoff in distaste, throwing down a random red card on the pile.

“you totally ate them didn’t you?” yuuta giggles, beaming you a wide smile.

“also.. told her that i didn’t see them instead but- yeah.”

“aren’t you worried she’ll find out? oh, and, uno.”

“she might just beat me up to be honest, and, uno, you say? not anymore, love.” you sneer, throwing down a +4 card.

“i want green.”

“i’d protect you.” yuuta states over his cards. you feel like cracking a joke and laughing, but there’s absolutely zero implication on his facial features to show that he’s joking. that, and his serious tone, of course.

you flip your cards down onto the table and yuuta squeaks, pointing towards them.

“uh- i can see your cards-“

“it’s okay, not like i was gonna win anyway.”

at this point, yuuta’s mind races a hundred miles an hour. he’s panicking, blood pressure raised, heart thumping and throat clogged. oh, shit, did he do something wrong? did he upset you? is it ‘cause he said he’d protect you with no regards to the fact that you’re perfectly capable of fending yourself off against maki? fuck, he’s such a god damn screw-up, can’t even take care of his girlfriend correct-

“hey.”

your fingertips slide around his neck, hands interlocking at the base of his head. your thighs balance on his lap and you straddle him, legs either side of his.

he can’t help but hitch his breath, holding it in as though one wrong move and you would dematerialise.

“what’re you thinking about in that head of yours?”

whether you’re referencing his mini panic attack just now, or if you’re referring to all the multiple times he’s battled just bending you over and railing the absolute shit out of you, there’s not much room for debate when you brush your clothed sex up against the print of his dick.

yuuta snakes his slender hands around your throat, holding it in place. you can feel the arousal pool and wash over you, and you’d be more than surprised if you hadn’t soaked through your clothes.

he lets out a breathy laugh, devastating your stomach with butterflies due to how attractive he sounds. yuuta’s soft lips brush the shell of your ear and his other hand moves to rest on your waist,

“why don’t i show you?”

before you can utter a tease something along the lines of “show me what? how you’re too scared to hit me in bed?” you’re already down, flipped over and bent over the table you and yuuta were using moments prior ago for uno. the cards have splattered all over the wooden floor and you only hiss in discomfort as the cool surface scratches against your delicate skin. your boyfriend towers over you, leaning down as his torso clicks into place against your back. even through his titanium white jacket, you can feel his calm and collected heartbeat. he rests his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into you.

“don’t scream, okay? or, try not to, at least-“

his warm fingertips ghost over the curve of your ass, where he pinches the skin there before delivering a loud slap. you squeak, back arching as you jolt from the action. he proceeds by grabbing the inside of your thighs, long middle finger hoisting around your underwear and pulling it to the side. he makes note of the red lingerie you’re wearing and gives you a small chuckle, peppering a kiss to the side of your face.

“-unless, of course-“

“-you’d prefer everyone hear me fuck you stupid.”

“safe word’s blue, angel. i love you and thank you.”

truth be told, you were never sure what to expect from yuuta. hell, you’d never really seen the man’s dick before, sure you caught glimpses in the morning whenever he’d wake up but it’s really not the same. nothing in the world can compare to the first time you felt his piping hot tip brush up against your slicked cunt. and it was embarrassing, actually, the way your pussy was seething for him already.

with a firm hold on your tailbone, yuuta utilises his lower body strength to ram his dick all the way inside. there’s a garbled and choked moan that hisses from you when you feel your walls wrap and deform around the girth of yuuta’s dick. you whine even more so when you can physically feel a thick vein that decorates his shaft.

“the mirror.” yuuta commands in a low tone, redirecting you to glance at the same mirror you’d always fantasised about him fucking you in front of.

his eyes are half lidded, riddled with concentration. it reminds you of that feral and focused gaze he gets during serious battles.

“don’t look at me. look here.”

you trail the outline of yuuta’s arm veins as a result of him rolling his uniform sleeves up; following his v line that points towards his dick. you can only gawk in awe when you realise you’ve taken him to the base of his shaft.

his gaze locks with yours for a split second and he snaps his hips out until just about his tip is visible inside your cunt.

and shit, if his pretty pink cock isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, especially with that attractive curve. you’re sure the gesture is just to wind you up, but you can’t help but swoon at him showcasing his pride to you.

“so- mmhf- pretty-“ you whine, words jumbled and breath caught when he slams his dick inside without any prior warning. you can only shriek in exclamation when his tip bruises your cervix, and you’re unsure whether you lament the sensation or not.

he only gives you a cheerful hum, reminding you of his usual cheery disposition. it’s not until then that you realise how much of a fucking beast he’s acting right now.

“right? i’ll put it to good use, i promise.”

gojo

- i know we’re all thinking the same thing here lmfao

- trying to sleep? good for you, now, open your legs for satoru.

- oh you can’t sleep? atta girl, down on your knees for satoru.

- bye i can literally imagine gojo saying some dumbass shit like “think you were trying to sleep but i couldn’t help but think how good my dick would look down your throat like that. sorry, love, you’re not sleeping tonight.”

you blink your eyes in turn with the cicadas chirping aside, stifling a yawn. everything around you down to the very last detail screams at you to sleep, but you just cannot. from the pitch black night that floods the room obscurely, to gojo’s even and quiet breathing beside you. you’ve tried it all. you’ve counted an excess amount of sheep, you’ve tensed and relaxed your body more than you can remember. hell, no matter how many times you’ve flipped the pillow you always seemed to feel less exhausted each time.

you can’t watch netflix, because you’ve binged all your favourite shows. it’s not that you’d wake gojo up because, who cares? by the time you finish scrolling through the endless lists it’ll be time to get up.

you ponder over the things you can do, continuing to subconsciously blink furiously. that is until gojo makes note of your stupid actions and starts giggling like a high schooler at his first sleepover.

“what the hell are you doing?” he snorts, cackling into the pillow like it’s the best joke he’s heard for quite some time.

“shut up, satoru. i’m trying to sleep you ass.” you tut at him, berating him for ruining your divine concentration.

gojo audibly shifts onto his stomach, his right arm crosses over the back of his head as he lazily rests his palm onto his scalp. the other arm preoccupies itself by landing it smack bang onto your chest, fingers wandering up to cup your breast.

“satoru, huh? that’s daddy for ya” he remarks, still giggling in a state of half asleep.

“uh-huh. goodnight.” you dismiss him and his nonsense.

“just go take a shower. always helps me whenever i can’t sleep.”

“hm? you’re giving me actual good advice and being a normal boyfriend? i think i might be asleep already, this is the best dream ever.” you remark sarcastically, prying gojo’s glued wrist off of your breast and sitting up. you could go for a shower, actually. you’re not sure why but it’s always so therapeutic to take one at night rather than the morning.

“huuuh? how could you say that? you’re so mean, (y/n)-chaan! i offered you my love and the world and this is how you repay m-“

“-goodnight satoru. i love you.”

“don’t think professing your love for me will change my mind! i’m still upset at you right now, young lady!” gojo shouts from over his pillow, exclaiming and irritating you in the way he knows how to best.

“yeah, yeah. okay.” you mumble softly to yourself, bearing a wide grin from ear to ear nonetheless.

when you move to crank the water on in the shower, you realise that you didn’t bring along a change of clothes. you momentarily pop back into the bedroom to ransack the drawer for anything that you can find.

“are you back to apologise for being so mean to me?” gojo whines and you can see the pout evident on him even when it’s pitch black.

“no, i’m just here for clothes, satoru.”

you hear him mumble something but it’s muffled by the sheets he’s underneath so you don’t heed any attention to it and resume in taking a shower to help keep your insomnia at bay.

with a ginger step and a small ‘oopf’, you heave yourself into the large shower that only a headass like gojo would bother buying. it’s reminiscent to what a hot tub looks like on the inside, with surrounding jets practically in a full 360 degrees. the things so steep that there’s a small step up in front of the shower outside the actual structure. it must have cost quite the fortune.

you reach in for the built in shelf to grab ahold of some of your toiletries as you allow the water to fall in a gentle sprinkle, almost like rain. there’s an audible squeeze reminiscent to trying to get the last ounces of ketchup as you apply some body gel to your hands, lathering it up.

despite standing, the warmth of the water leads your muscles to feel less tense. the only noteworthy downside is that the running water is tremendously loud. how on earth is gojo sleeping through all that racket?

slender fingertips ghost over your inner thighs. you can feel his wet and sturdy chest in place against your spine.

“surprised to see me?”

“you know i can’t let my baby talk shit like that.”

really? that’s his issue at hand here?

“so which is it?”

“acting like an intolerant brat because you’re tired or ‘cause you wanna get dicked down?”

gojo loops his arm underneath your leg, bending it up. you almost topple over in the process and you lay one hand flat against the tile.

“don’t answer that. sometimes it’s so obvious that you’re such a whore for my dick.”

“huh?! what the shit are you saying?” you snap at how correct he is.

gojo yanks your face back, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he forces you to face him. it almost sends your neck into two pieces, straining to look back at him.

“oh, really princess? just the other day you were begging me to fuck you”

“remember that? couldn’t wait so you rode me in the car? you know, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”

your legs tremble and psyche wobbles when he pries your mouth open with his thumb, promptly before spitting into it.

“don’t bother with the bullshit. i’ll play the games, not you.”

he drags his hard cock against the curve of your ass, slapping it against you.

“i don’t think i feel like fuckin’ you right now.” gojo sneers, humming sardonically. his lips quickly latch onto yours when you spin around to meet his gaze. like the fucker he is, gojo moans and whines into the kiss- lips ravaging you whole and tongue capturing your essence.

“baby girl, i was gonna let you top me. you know i don’t let anyone do that.”

his long middle finger prods against your cunt, forcing itself in with ease.

“damn, you’re soaked. you really wanted to milk me dry that bad?”

you hate him. hate him so fucking bad. he flashes you that attractive smile of his, azure eyes sparkling and snow white hair disturbed with water.

gojo pulls his finger out before sucking onto it in front of you, lapping all the excess arousal off.

“i’m not playing with you tonight.”

toji

- i literally don’t even need to say anything here

- just be sure to make a hospital check up appointment or something

- um-i uh- please remember to breathe after this one? maybe touch some grass? ALSO my first time writing for toji AAA i hope he’s okay

maybe if you don’t breathe? nah, that wouldn’t work. there’s still air acting around your limbs when you move so you’d be disturbing the barriers there. let’s see… maybe bit by bit? surely if you slowly inched his shirt up? then again, wouldn’t toji chew you out halfway through? maybe you should just give it to him straight up? just slip your hand under his shirt. come on. but he looks so peaceful, sleeping like that.. long eyelashes fluttered closed, lips relaxed and not scowling. his eyebrows are softly arched. he looks so soft, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath.

fuck it. just do it. cuddle him already.

you muster up all your courage in one fell swoop and you bend one leg over toji, resting it just above his groin. your right arm sprawls out over his chest and your hand rests against his toned arm. he’s already sleeping with one arm bent up with his hand supporting the back of his head, so you utilise the free real estate to nestle your head in the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet.

when he doesn’t move after a while, you deem your life to be safe and exhale with ease.

“you’re not asleep.” toji states in a groggy, husky tone. it’s supposed to be a question, but, coming from him it almost sounds like a challenge.

“yes?” you squeak out meekly.

“‘yes?’ you asleep or not?”

“i can’t sleep again.” you murmur against his shirt and he exhales a small sigh. the arm that you’re clinging onto moves to draw small circles on your thigh that rests on toji.

“when’d you notice?” you inquire, glancing down at his large wrists.

“like five minutes ago. nice try, kid.” toji snorts indifferently, chuckling at your behaviour.

when you don’t make an effort to respond, toji’s interest peaks and he lets out a small hum of intrigue when he follows your gaze.

he turns his head, brushing his lips up against your temples.

“see anything interesting down there?”

“as a matter of fact-“

you nestle yourself in between toji’s large and built thighs, digits curling around the waistband of his boxers. he only smirks at you through the dark, cock twitching through the fabric. you notice toji hover his hips up so that you can slide his boxers off for him and you happily oblige.

“-i do.” you chime, licking your lips.

it’s cute, though, if you thought toji was gonna let you handle him like that all by yourself.

as you kiss a trail up his thick shaft, toji yanks ahold fistfuls of your hair before grabbing your face off of his cock.

“who said you could suck my dick? that’s real cute.”

“thinking you actually have a place in my house.”

“i didn’t train you to be such a depraved slut. know your fucking place, because this isn’t it.”

“how many times do i gotta tell you? you don’t belong here. look around. do you see anything that shows a woman lives here? no? that’s because you’re nothing but a fuck doll for me.”

toji hisses out profanities at the gag you spew when he slams your tiny little mouth back down on his dick.

“lose the teeth you imbecile. unless you’re trying to tell me that you can’t suck my dick properly.”

incessant whines and garbled sentences are muffled by toji’s cock. whatever remnants you had of your vision are nothing but a blur as tears stream your cheeks, nose running and sniffles resurface in a repeating pattern over the slick sounds of slurping and gagging. your mouth stretches as far as it can go and the corners of your lips shriek in despair. you can feel the skin there stretch and pull beyond what’s considered normal.

even through all that, you manage to glance up at toji through your water logged lashes. you’ll be a good girl for him. you need to be.

“fuuuck. that’s a pretty sight.” he grumbles and a deep chuckle resonates through his chest. within a few moments, toji fumbles to reach for something.

you can only wince and screw your eyes at the suddenly blinding flash of a light in front of you. one can only assume he’s taken a photo of you in your humiliating state.

you can feel the fear settle into your veins when that telltale ping of a message being sent vibrates throughout the room. if you were to listen hard enough, you could hear a notification go off in the next room over.

your throat feels raw, jaw tense and locked open. it’s been a good twenty minutes of toji face fucking you to teach you a valid lesson. it’s all in the will of him wanting to drag this on, savouring every miniscule slurp, whimper or gasp. when his strokes start to feel sloppier than usual, you can’t help but feel relieved.

as you squirm about due to toji shooting hot ropes of his thick cum down your throat, the door softly clicks open.

“megumi. you’re just in time.”

“she’s way more obedient than your mom ever used to be.”

[kumzume]

Bakugou sitting on your lap sucking on your fingers ahhhhhh 😍😍😍🥰🥰🥵💕🙌🙌

ok m rlly starting to think i have a problem cs this but + exhibitionism?1??1?1??2??

katsuki gets extremely needy sometimes — his body craving the weight of you on his tongue, the taste of you in his mouth — to the point where no matter where he is or what you’re doing, he’ll find you and demand you to give him what he wants.

his bratty, precious little princess act is obviously to cover up just how fuckin obsessed with you and your fingers he is and how embarrassed he is by that fact.

it’s why it’s a true treat when the neediness fills up and boils over, making him disregard anyone or anything in his way in favor for you.

it happens at a party. denki’s throwing some kind of rager (he doesn’t need a real reason to get drunk off his ass) and he invites you and kat. kat already didnt want to go, much rather preferring to cook for you and take care of you (& eventually let u take care of him) but you were so excited! he can’t let you down.

so, the pair of you go, both decked out to the nines, looking every bit of the hottest couple in the world that you are. once you arrive, you break apart from him with a soft but passionate kiss, your hand gripping his jaw possessively before sending him on his way. you find yourself socializing and having fun while katsuki sulks in a room full of people he doesn’t know or care about when hed much rather be at him, sucking on your nipple while watching a shitty movie.

but, again, he doesn’t want to be a burden. he’s determined not to be that clingy boyfriend who can’t be without their s/o for more than a few hours at a time. so instead, he settles against a wall, crossing his arms and starting to wait.

he doesn’t last 10 minutes.

katsuki pushes off of the wall, that familiar feeling swirling in his chest, his mouth suddenly aching for your fingers in it. he needs to find you and fast.

he travels throughout the house, searching for a glimpse of you when he finally gets it — you’re sitting on a couch surrounded by his friends (dunce face, shitty hair, plain face, deku, etc), your face light and mirthful as you laugh at something stupid denki said.

his heart tightens in his chest and he decides to go back to his wall and wait for you to get him to leave — he doesn’t want to ruin your night. but before he can, you make eye contact with him, your eyes sliding to half mast as you look him up and down, your gaze hungry and animalistic.

katsuki fights the urge to squirm, his hands clenching at his sides as if that’s going to keep him from launching himself at you and begging you to fuck him.

you cock your head at him and motion him over, the action alerting the rest of the room to his presence. the rest of his idiot friends turn and look, lighting up and calling him further into the room as well, all the attention sending a bright flush across his cheeks.

he shrinks into himself as he makes his way over, scowling at the floor before lifting his eyes only to notice there’s no space beside you on the plush furniture.

humiliation thrums right beneath his skin and as he’s about to say fuck it and go hide in the bathroom for the remainder of the party, you grab his hand and yank him down.. right onto your lap.

katsuki cant hide the gasp that escapes him as all 5’9, 210 lbs of him collapses on you, his body automatically seeking your warmth and touch. his friends laugh about the position for a few moments but they’re quickly distracted by something else, giving him time to be distracted by something else entirely — you.

your arms are wrapped around his waist and your face is pressed against his shoulder, your body all encompassing, making his head feel hazy and eyes gloss over. you’re too busy talking to notice him pick up your hand and start toying with your fingers, sliding your rings up and down, twirling them around your digits.

as he holds them, his mind races, supplying him with all the dirty, amazing things you’ve done with those same hands, the thoughts making him throb a little in his tight jeans.

kat does his best to ignore the hardening of his cock but what he can’t ignore is the all-encompassing desire for him to belong to you, right in this moment, in front of all these people (some of which he knows have a crush on you).

if the two of you were alone and he was feeling these urges, he’d have no problem opening his mouth and wordlessly asking for you spit inside, claiming him in a way that made his tummy burn and eyes water but that’s the problem. the two of you aren’t alone. besides, he doesn’t want to interrupt your conversation — that wouldn’t be very good of him and that’s what he wanted to be for you. good.

so, he picks the next best thing. he lifts the hand he was toying with from around his waist and lifts it to his mouth. he’s so lost to you that he doesn’t notice the room falling silent, all his friends staring at him with wide eyes and red cheeks.

suki takes two of your fingers and lightly brushes them against his plush, pink bottom lip, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth dropping open further to accommodate the rush of arousal that just shot through his gut and your incoming claim, ready to posses him.

his tongue comes out to give your fingertips a kitten lick, moaning at the taste of you before pushing both fingers all the way against his tongue and towards the back of his throat. he doesn’t gag at all, even as he closes his mouth and sucks and swallows, his mind pleasantly swimmy and light.

by now, some of his friends have gotten hard themselves, adjusting pants and pressing thighs together but you pay them no mind, instead watching your beautiful boyfriend take what he needs from you with adoring eyes.

katsuki cant even see your expression, his whole mind, body, and soul devoted to you and your hands. he takes you by the wrist and presses your fingers further down his throat, sputtering a little around the intrusion but ultimately pushing past the feeling to start throat fucking himself slowly, carefully, trying to emulate the way you do it, the way he loves so much.

someone groans behind him (hanta? or was that izuku?) but he doesn’t care, whimpering when you finally move and press the pads of your fingers against the back of his tongue.

you allow him this pleasure for a moment longer, curling, spreading and scissoring your fingers inside his mouth before withdrawing, laughing silently when he whines and tries to chase your hand.

katsuki pouts, trying to look fierce but with his watery, red eyes and swollen lower lip, he just looks fucked and debauched, another groan resounding in the room (kiri?).

you pat his face lightly, apologetically with wet fingers, letting him nuzzle the palm of your hand in forgiveness, your eyes shooting up to look at all the voyeurs around the pair of you, each one looking turned on and tiny bit guilty.

a grin shines across your face — even as katsuki takes your fingers back into his mouth with a pleased little sigh and squirm — choosing now to address the room.

you should see what he looks like when he’s getting fucked — he gets insolent though without anything in his mouth. any volunteers?

[feelin-woozy]

Title: Stoke The Fire

Word Count: 1984

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x female!reader

Warnings: Daddy kink, breeding, degradation, dumbification

Thanks @slasherrabbitmadness for the inspiration and the absolute brain rot that she has given me with the idea of dilf!Bo :) go check out her dilf Bo stuff because it's,,, chefs kiss.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend time over at Bo’s house; it became almost like a second home over the years. Your father and Bo have a relationship that bloomed from the moment they entered business together a few years back. It wasn’t easy to imagine what life was like before Bo became so close to your family.

A warm summer breeze blows past you, ruffling the soft saffron colored cotton of your dress against your thighs. Of course, you don’t miss the way Bo’s blue eyes dart to the newly exposed flesh of your thigh, but beyond that, he doesn’t make a move, just sips the beer in his hand and takes another easy drag off the cigarette.

Your dad is prattling on about this and that, talking about some jackoff who tried to rip him off the other day at work claiming that his rate was ludacris and that there were a dozen other mechanics that could do it for cheaper. And sure, that may have been true, but the quality wasn’t there. It wasn’t biased, perhaps a little, but it was still a well known fact that your dad and Bo ran the best mechanic shop in town; it’s why they got away with the rates they charged. And there was always a sense of taking care of the community, their community, that had the townsfolk whipped and willing to shell out the money.

The lively strumming of guitars swirled around you, and you bounced your leg to the steady beat of the Seether song that played over the speakers. It was heavier than the usual stuff that your dad played around the house, but then there were many things about Bo that were heavier. Perhaps that’s why they worked so well together.

Your attention is drawn away from the melodic beat and easy going conversation between Bo and your dad when a small hand tugs at the hem of your dress. You turn your head to look down at the young girl, blue eyes staring up at you with a smile that lacked a few teeth. You return the smile to her, waiting for her to speak and voice whatever thoughts swirled around in that head of hers.

You had nearly forgotten that Oliva was here with the three of you. Bo’s time with her split with his ex-girlfriend, who he had some choice words about every time she was brought up. The young girl was undeniably Bo’s child through unruly brown hair bouncing with every shift she made and blue eyes that were carbon copies of her father’s. You couldn’t help but wonder what she got from her mother; Bo didn’t have any photos of her around the house.

“Will you come play with me?” She reaches for your hands, her skin slightly sticky from God knows what, but you don’t pull away; you just give her hand a small squeeze in return.

“Olive, sweetie, don’t bug her. Go play by yourself okay?” Bo says softly, a sort of sternness shining through his words. You lift your gaze to look at Bo, and you catch a glimpse of fondness that softens the lines of his face. Olivia whines, eyebrows furrowing as if she’s about to pitch a fit at Bo’s words.

“It’s okay Bo,” You smile at him, wide and radiant as you get to your feet without letting go of Olivia’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

Bo just nods his head with a bit of a shrug before turning his attention to your dad again. However, you don’t miss the way his eyes surveil you as Olivia drags you to the small backyard park that Bo and your dad had built together the previous summer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s almost two weeks later when you find yourself bent over the laminate countertop, hands scrambling for purchase as you’re pushed forward again and again. You hadn’t even been here for five minutes, coming by only to grab some tools for your dad to borrow, wearing that same saffron dyed dress you had worn last time that you were over here. Bo’s worn trucker hat lost to the linoleum, jeans pushed only half way down his thighs, leaving his belt to jangle incessantly with every movement. The edge of the countertop digs into your hip bones saved only for the dress that’s bunched up over the curve of your ass. It does little to pad and protect you against the vicious rocking of Bo’s hips, but it’s better than nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy every fuckin’ day,” Bo groans, grimey fingers curling into your hips and dragging you back against himself. He stays put for a moment, keeping your bodies pressed flushed together. “Been thinkin’ about knocking you up.”

The way your pussy flutters around his length is indecorous, the whimper you let out even more so. But it can’t be helped; hearing the filth that dripped from Bo’s lips always had that effect on you, but there was something about the way he said it that made your insides churn. The serious edge to his words that wasn’t there the times you had fucked prior, the way his words turned from a pipe dream to something that could be a reality.

“Does my baby like that idea?” Bo titters, the noise breathless and broken. A testament to the effect that this was having on him as well. “Like the thought of me fuckin’ a baby into you?”

“Fuck, Bo.” Your head drops, cheeks pressing into the chilled countertop. You don’t even pretend like this wasn’t doing it for you, hips rocking back against his to tempt him into staying true to your word. “Yeah, yeah fuck.”

He leans over you, the thin cotton t-shirt dragging along your sweat-slicked back as he pressed his lips to your neck, teeth catching the rosy skin. For a moment, you think that he was about to leave a mark to bloom against your skin, a small sign over ownership that would have you avoiding your parents’ home till the skin healed, and you could look them in the eyes once more.

“Gunna have to get you off that birth control of yours,” Bo murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away again, looming over you and admiring the way he has you splayed out like a wrecked mess in his kitchen. The windows open, and the back sliding door cracked so neighbors would be able to hear every little indecent noise that passed your lips like a mantra. You were glad for the arborvitae that lined the fence. It gave you some privacy, even if it wasn’t much, and it did ease your nerves considerably. “After that, maybe I’ll just keep you on my cock day ‘n night till I know it took.”

Your hands curl into fists at the thought, knuckles blanching under the force. The idea has your mind melting; nothing has ever sounded so perfect to you. It was almost insane how easily Bo got you cockdrunk, how easily he bent you to every whim that crossed his mind. But there was something about his smile, his scent, the way he could play you as if the two of you were made for each other that left you a strung out fanatic.

“Tell me how badly you want it,” Bo growls, nails cutting crescent shaped moons into your hips. If he wasn’t dragging you so perfectly through the trenches of pleasures, the pain might have brought you from the lust addled fog, but instead, it only shoves you down further. It made you feel like you were drowning, drowning in his words, the scent of sex that hung headily around you, the obscene noises that sounded like your own but were so far away, the way skin slapped against each other and the wet noises of your pussy dripping around his thick cock. It was all too much, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before your orgasm swept you pitilessly under the current. “Come on baby, if you wanna cum you gotta tell Daddy how badly you want it.”

A sob tears through your chest, thighs shaking as you’re forced onto the points of your toes with each thrust. Bo laughs above you cruelly, not once slowing down and allowing you a moment of reprieve to find your words. There was a satisfaction in seeing the way he strung you along, bringing you so close to the edge, and you knew that if you didn’t give in, give him what he wanted, he would pull away.

It wouldn’t have been the first time. There had been many times he’d pull out only to jerk himself off to completion and paint your pussy, or your panties, only to force you to wear his cum as a reminder. So you try with a renewed desperation, to try and formulate anything of sense before Bo had the chance to pull out of you.

“I-I fuck,” You stutter, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Every time the words were cocked and loaded on your tongue, the way he brushed against that spot within you had them rolling off your tongue in the form of drool. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, it would’ve been beyond humiliating.

“You look fuckin’ pathetic like this,” Bo sneers, hips stuttering. You knew he was close, his words coming out a sharp rasp as each thrust was punctuated with a guttural growl. “Just an empty headed slut made to be knocked up. S’okay baby, Daddy will take care of you.”

That’s what sends you over the edge, cunt clenching down like a vice around the cock plowing into you. It must have been good because you’re distantly aware of the sound of Bo choking on a noise within his throat. And God, do you wish that you were more aware and not floating listlessly through the waves of pleasure so you could see just how wrecked Bo was. You wanted to acknowledge the way graying brown hair clung to his forehead, cheeks flushed as he gritted his teeth. It was always one of your favorite sights. A low moan tumbles from the two of you at the feeling of warmth filling you, the gentle pulsing of his cock as he empties himself within you.

The two of you remained like that for a moment, and you silently wished it would never end as you tried to quell your racing heart and the rapid movement of your chest. Then, when Bo begins to pull out, you whine, but he only snickers, fingers moving from your hips to dance along your folds, running through the slick and cum that dripped out.

“Ya mean it?” You whine softly, pressing back as he pushes cum back inside of you.

“Mean what, baby?” Bo muses, fingers moving at a taunting pace. You crane your neck a bit to stare up at Bo, catching the post sex bliss that overlays his face, the smug look that only makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching.

“Are you going to knock me up?” Your tongue flicks out over your lower lip, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you open once more. Bo groans low in his throat at the thought, and you peek your eye open to catch sight of the twisted grin on his face and the dark intent that swirled within blue eyes.

“Course I am,” Bo says matter of factly as he pulls his fingers out of you, reaching down to grab the lace panties you wore and pull them back up over you. With a pat on your ass, he begins to tuck himself back into his pants, walking over to the fridge. “Would be a shame to let that pretty pussy a’ yours to go to waste.”

[thoughts-of-a-trying-tree]

marry me

word count: 2712

warning(s): references to fics i've never written, cursing, dialogue heavy, and my brand of self-indulgence (also the word uwu is said. im so sorry)

Read on AO3

-----------------------------------------------

"Peach, toss me the wrench, would you?" Clang! "Thanks, and also the—" Clang! "Oh, yep, that's better actually." Bzzzzzzzt. "Perfect, marry me." Thwack! "I meant thank you!"

'*'*'*'

"Harleyyyy! HAAARLEEEEEYYYY!"

"What? Where's the invasion?" Slap!

"Pick your stupid fuckin' socks up! Tits and their respective gods, I have to do everything around here and there ain't no pay in New York Cit-ay."

"You could always marry me for tax benefits if you're that worried—"

"And pick your stuff up for the rest of my life? I would rather eat my shirt. Better not see anything in the lab!"

"Mhm."

"..."

"…"

Wham! "Harley Fuckin' Keener, why did you leave YOUR socks on MY stuff? Stop laughing!"

'*'*'*'

"Babe. Fox News thinks we're married."

"Fox News? Hell the why?"

"We are, ahem, and this is beautifully written, 'promoting an ideal of relationship that does not prioritize the continuation of the human race nor its wellbeing and,' get this, 'are worse than the aliens invading New York.'"

"I thought they agreed not to call them that, now that we have so many extraterrestrials on Earth? 'Cause it's offensive, right?"

"Is that really the first question you have? Not even the implication that our marriage would be worse than the Chitauri?"

"I mean, I'm down if you're down, peach."

"Down bad? Down under?"

"Why not both? Ahem! Peter Middle Name Parker—"

"Everyone knows my middle name, get off the floor—"

"—will you make me the most horribly selfish man in the world—" Sniff. "—and marry me?"

"Oh my God. You're ridiculous. Get off the floor."

"Is that a yes?"

"I would rather marry DUM-E for their intelligence."

"Hey!"

'*'*'*'

"So I've been thinking—"

"Should I call an ambulance?"

"Omigod, you're so funny aha, marry me uwu—"

"Alright, get on with it."

"I've been thinking—stop it—I was thinking—"

"Spit it out!"

"You won't let me!"

"Fine, I'll shut up."

"I've been. Thinking."

"...And? Go on?"

"…"

"…"

"I forgot!" Snicker.

"No. For real?"

"Yeah! Fuck you!"

"Please, that's the most you thing ever!"

"It's all your fault!" Whack! "If you had just shut up!" Whack! "This wouldn't!" Whack! "Have happened!"

'*'*'*'

"So when are you two getting married?"

"Haha! Can't say we have plans for that, huh Harls?"

"Ha, no, guess we can't! I mean, would you marry me, Peter Parker?"

"Haha, don't be so funny, Harls! Maybe after we've finished all the restoration work we can answer silly questions about our personal lives that no one should have an investment in, right Harley?"

"Yeah. I was expecting a little better, Peter." Click-click-click-click shhhh.

"T-that's a wrap! Thank you Peter Parker and Harley Keener for coming to represent the Stark Relief Fund and Stark Industries! Stay tuned for an interview with Shuri on behalf of King T'Challa of Wakanda after the break!"

'*'*'*'

"The charity ball has us down as Harley and Peter Parker."

"Oh, that's good. One thing off the list. Pass me the fluid, please?" Clink. "Thanks."

"No, they have us down as Harley and Peter Parker."

"Yeah? What's wrong?"

"They have us down as a couple. As in Harley Parker and Peter Parker."

"Your name sounds so weird with mine."

"Rude and not even the point, peach."

"No, I mean like. Different." Whirrrrrrrrr click! "As if you'd take my name anyway."

"Hey! I don't have that big of an ego. Besides, would you take mine?"

"Sure, I guess. It's my first name that matters, right?"

"Nah, because I wouldn't want to ruin your little alliteration. Was that what you were going for when you picked Peter anyway?"

"Shut up."

"Wait, actually? Ow! For real? Ack! Why is that such a transgender and you thing to do, you absolute idiot, OW, marry me!"

"Too late babe, according to the guest list, we've been there, done that."

"Mhm, but if we don't want to ruin the alliteration, we can't do a hyphenated name either, so maybe we could combine them or something? Like... Pareener?"

"Ew. That sounds like a vacuum brand."

"Parkner?"

"Why are we even having this conversation?"

"Uh. Hm. Oh! Charity ball, cross it off the list."

"Right. What else is on the list?"

"Our wedding—"

"Don't annoy a man with a scalpel in his hand!"

"Why the FUCK do you have a scalpel?"

"Tinkerin' the toys, honey."

"Fingerin' the—Ow!"

'*'*'*'

Peter stood like a bird on a branch, shaking and yet, perfectly still. Watching Harley walk towards him had eased the beating of his heart, but now it was swelling and pulling him into the sky with it, though through anxiety or elation, only time would tell. He drew in a breath and willed himself to stay still. Harley took his hands in his and stared into Peter's eyes, beaming.

An excited voice. "Do you, Peter Benjiman Parker—" Ned crashed into Peter from behind.

"Dude! There's this ginormous hologram of you in the middle of the floor!"

"Ned, you fucking stole my thunder!" Harry groaned, throwing an arm over Harley's shoulders. "Pause and rewind. Do you, Peter, have a clue of how big these people think you are? Well, my friend, allow me to show you!" Harry grabbed Peter's elbow and steered everyone through the legs of a white A in the colossal STARK EXPO sign in front of the tower. Peter found Harley's hand again as he ducked through, and immediately tightened his grip as he made eye contact with a giant hologram. Of himself.

"Holy fuckin' shit. I'm huge." Harley snickered.

"For once, you're taller than me." Peter shoved him, laughing.

"I'm not done growing! And FYI, tall people are assholes so—"

"Peter!" Tony Stark jogged towards him, flashes of light trailing behind him.

"Mr. Stark!"

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I just choked on the world. But I think I'm ready."

"Good, because Harley can do the Heimlich, and you're up in ten."

"My cans–?"

"Behind the forehead section of the audience. Get 'em, kid."

"Will do, Mr. Stark." Harley took both of his hands again and Peter turned to face him.

"You got this. You've practiced your ass off and planned out a show like no one's ever seen." Peter resisted the urge to laugh. If only he knew. "You're amazing. You're gonna do amazing."

"Thanks Harls."

"I love you, peach."

"Love you, too."

"Now go show this crowd what they're been missing out on." Peter pressed his lips quickly to Harley's and practically skipped to the backstage area, which was really more underneath the stage.

Time passed like frozen honey until, finally, someone called his name. "Peter Parker, up now." He walked up the coordinator, who smiled down at him. "Good luck, honey."

"Thank you."

He shook out his hands, channeled his inner Tony, and ran up onto the stage, grinning wide like he didn't have a care in the world. His heart raced at the size of the crowd as it cheered for him, and his eyes landed on Harley. He nodded at him, and Peter slid to a stop center stage.

"Hello, New York!" The crowd screamed louder, and Peter took his cue. He pressed a button on his earbud, and small black dots rushed out of the blue cans in the back of the room. The crowd went silent before bursting into confusion. The dots raced between their feet and hopped over their shoes, some breaking off their streams and crawling to the ceiling and covering the chandelier. The dots on the ground gathered around Peter, and then came together and formed a hand.

The chandelier flashed red and blue. The dots fell off like raindrops and connected with the hand on stage, revealing that the chandelier was now in a completely different design, and the crowd gasped. Peter wiggled his fingers at the crowd, and the hand on stage followed suit.

"Hello, New York," he called again. "I'm here today for three different reasons. The first?" He grinned, almost wolf-like. "I think the tower needs some renovating, don't you?" The dots making the hand – microbots, now everyone could tell – fell in a crash and surged to the wall near the stage, forming a black box across it.

Everything went still.

Then they fell through the metal and plaster, revealing empty space, and the microbots moved through seemingly nothing – until they moved farther out and left new floors, ceilings, and walls in their wake.

"Welcome to the new addition to the Stark Tower. Would anyone like a tour?"

It all went perfectly. Rooms Peter described appeared in front of astonished eyes in seconds, before the black mass moved on ahead of them. The separate rooms were furnished, and refurnished as Peter playfully designed them, and he explained on the tour what the bots were.

"3D printers. Armed with magic – although a friend would say that on Asgard, magic and science are one and the same – and Wakandan technology. Combined, they form a future we never thought possible. Skyscrapers built in minutes without error or human endangerment. Imagine a world where your dream house is exactly how you imagine it. Imagine a world where renovations take the time it takes you to have a cup of tea."

By now, the crowd and Peter were near the end of the new wing. The bots were finishing up the last wall, the dead end, and Peter turned his back to it.

"I told you I had three reasons for being here. This is one. A new way to build, with lower cost both monetarily and in a human sense. These little guys will be released within six months, with this wing as their final test." The bots had finished and were now forming different animal shapes and moving through the crowd, delighting them with shapeshifting. A little spider rested on Harley's shoulder. "But what's the point of a new wing with nothing to use it for?"

A few of the bot-animals scrambled back to the dead end and shifted through random letters of the alphabet. "That brings me to my second reason." He hesitated dramatically, enjoying the awe of the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are here to witness the launch of the next generation of Stark Expo." The bots fell back and revealed gleaming letters on the wall.

STARK EXPO: UNRESTRICTED

"The Stark Expo has been limiting to young people, people of color, people who don't have the resources for innovation, and more. That changes today." He paused, giving the audience a moment to take everything in.

"Stark Expo: Unrestricted is a unique mix of a nonprofit scholarship program, internship, and expo for anyone who has something to show. Those in New York can apply online at SEUnrestricted at no cost and with no requirements. No restrictions."

"Those outside of New York have an application process also at no cost, in which an essay, the details of which are on all sites connected to Stark-owned organizations, should be submitted. Those chosen will not have to pay a penny to receive the resources of Stark Industries or, if wanted, to come to New York and work side-by-side with the best."

The bots melted back into streams and formed a cruise ship next to him. "It's an all-expenses-paid trip and we can make it happen. Who wants in?" The crowd burst into a shock of loud applause and Peter grinned wildly, letting it die down as the all the bot creations separated and slowly returned to their cans. All but one. His eyes landed on Tony, who cupped his hands around his mouth.

"What's the third thing, Peter?" He yelled. Peter laughed.

"So glad you asked, random citizen!" He took a deep breath. "I couldn't have done all of this alone. Through breakdowns at three a.m. over miniscule details and hours on end locked in the lab with me as I spent all my time not paying attention to anything but these bots, I've never been alone." He started making his way into the crowd, which parted around him.

"As I enter this next chapter in my life, everything will change. But there are some things I hope never do, and so this last reason may be the scariest of all." Peter stopped in front of Harley, and the spider hopped down from his shoulder and formed a thick, spinning O in Peter's hand.

He sank to one knee and Harley took a step back, eyes wide.

"Harley Keener. I never want you to change. I never want to go anywhere or do anything without you. Through the past few years of my life, you have been the brightest point." Peter had a whole script but he could barely remember the words now. "You've asked me this before as a joke, but I've never asked you, and—" He fumbled, nearly tipping over. "God, this is not easy." A couple in the crowd glanced at each other, and the crowd rustled with mirth.

"Harley Keener, I love you with my whole heart and all of my life." The formerly spider bots stopped spinning and skittered into Peter's sleeves, revealing a ring with blue and red stones set into the top of a band with the tell-tale gleam of vibranium.

"Harley Keener—"

"Yes—"

"Let me finish!" The crowd laughed, but neither boy noticed.

"Harley Keener." He was nodding, tears sliding down his cheeks. "Will you make me the most horribly selfish man in the world– " Harley choked out a wet laugh. "–and marry me?"

Harley fell to his knees and pressed his face into Peter's, planting kisses where his tear-streaked face could reach. "Yes, you absolute idiot, I will, I will, I will—" He broke off to kiss him again, and Peter's eyes sparkled with wetness.

"You didn't even put on the ring, Harls," he whispered through kisses.

"Oh!" Harley pulled back and held his hand out, and Peter slid the ring onto his finger. Harley stared for a moment, then looked up at him.

"Do you... like it? Because I tried to find a normal one but I didn't think you'd like any so I thought I could make it and—" Harley interrupted him with a hard kiss.

"I love it. I love you." Peter laughed wetly.

"Okay."

"Okay." The crowd cheered again behind them, and Tony and a few Avengers all started ushering them away. Once the room had cleared, Harry, Ned, and MJ ran in, Ned squealing.

Harley laughed and got off the floor, pulling Peter up with him and picking him up bridal-style.

"You guys knew?" Harley went ignored through all the excitement.

"Peter!" Ned yelled. "You're engaged! To Harley!"

"Yeah!" Peter laughed and curled up into Harley more. He kissed Peter's forehead.

"No," MJ groaned. "You guys are gonna be even grosser than before!" Harry pretended to flick a tear from his eye.

"It's like watching my babies grow up, so sweet." MJ punched Harry's arm, and Ned awkwardly hugged them both.

"I'm so happy for you guys," he sniffed.

"Ned, are you crying?"

"No, it's just allergies, don't worry!" Everyone laughed, and Peter leaned up to kiss Harley.

"We're engaged," he whispered.

"Hell yeah."

'*'*'*'

In the end, it was a small party. Abby was the maid of honor, and Morgan the flower girl. May sat with Tony and Rhodey, and Bucky and Steve were guardian angels, keeping the reporters away and staying within six feet of the happy couple for anything they needed. Thin strips of peaches decorated the top of the cake and, if you looked carefully, seemed to form a spider web and Hello Kitty whiskers. Coincidence, of course.

May cried her eyes out and pretended she hadn't, and Pepper made sure everything went smoothly. Harry, Ned, and MJ sat first row, and if Ned and May were in a competition over who cried the most, the judge would've started sobbing in sympathy.

Harley and Peter had whispered their vows to each other, low and soft so not even Steve with his super hearing could understand them. They were riddled with inside jokes, cracking the other up, and each word was said with such love that both of their hearts felt full afterwards.

"How are you feeling, peach?" The first dance.

"Like I'm holding the world." Inexplicably new.

"I'm holding my world." Inextricably linked.

"And I'm holding mine."

And that love would last forever.

[arrowflier]

serotonin boost prompt whenever you find the time: gallavich date with secret smiles, sweet kisses and the handholding we all deserve ❤️❤️

"We're gonna miss it, Mickey," Ian says for at least the third time, eyes on the ever-ticking clock over their fireplace.  Mickey, kneeling on the floor in front of the worn sofa they had grabbed off a curb when they found out they had to get their own, just shrugs.  He picks out a bright red crayon to pass to Franny, who's laying on her stomach next to him scribbling on the back of an ad for the local co-op.

"Calm down, man," he tells Ian.  "She'll be here soon, can't do anything about a late train."

Ian sighs, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes.  "Since when do you stand up for Debbie?"

Mickey eyes him warily from the floor.  "Since it's not her fault," he answers, then asks, "Why you so worked up about it, anyway?  It's not a big deal."

He sounds honestly confused, and it only makes Ian more upset.  This was supposed to be their night.  Their one night, all week, to just do something nice together.  And Debbie had to come to them for last-minute babysitting while she went to an interview, then had to be late enough getting back to send all Ian's plans circling the drain.

He doesn't say any of that to Mickey.  "It's nothing," he mumbles instead, knowing it sounds unconvincing but not really caring at the moment.

Sure enough, Mickey's eyes narrow and he opens his mouth to reply, but gets interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Mommy!" Franny cries, jumping off the floor to race to the apartment door.  Mickey is slower to rise, grumbling about getting too old for sitting on the floor; if Ian we're in a better mood, he'd tease him for being perfectly fine with lying on it the other night.  Ian stays put, leaving Mickey to follow their niece with a concerned glance back at him.

Ian listens to Mickey opening the door, reminding Franny to let him do it, and greeting Debbie.  He knows if he followed, he'd say something about her tardiness, so he lets Mickey make his excuses and wave the two of them off.

He braces himself when he hears the door click closed again, and Mickey's footsteps come back around into the living room.

Mickey doesn't say anything about his sour mood.

"Kay, you ready?" he asks instead, grabbing his wallet from the crate temporarily serving as a coffee table.

Ian laughs humorlessly.

"I was ready an hour ago," he points out dryly.  "But we missed our reservation already, Mick, we're not going anywhere now."

Mickey frowns at him.  "Nah, fuck that, man," he says.  "This is our night, right?" he asks, and Ian would be lying if he said that didn't warm him up a little, hearing Mickey call it that.

"Yeah," he agrees, and Mickey nods decisively.

"Let's go then," he orders, gesturing to the door.  "I ain't givin' up on tonight that easy."

Ian can't help but grin, even as he asks, "go where?"

Mickey smirks, and slaps Ian on the ass when he gets up and walks past him.  Ian starts, twisting to look at him with wide eyes, and Mickey waggled his eyebrows just to make Ian laugh.

"You let me worry about that, tough guy."

--

They end up outside the restaurant they had picked out together, some weird new mexican fusion place that advertised world-class margaritas.  Mickey had gotten fond of the drink back in Mexico, and Ian figured it was something they could enjoy together.

"Mickey," he says as they get closer, " it took us two weeks to get in here, there's no way they held our table."

Mickey shakes his head.  "Gallagher, I'm disappointed in you," he says as he leads Ian to the door.  "Ain't conning you way into places your family's shtick?"

Ian just looks at him, brow furrowed, and Mickey rolls his eyes.

"Just hang back a sec, til I wave you over, alright?" he demands.  "Watch and fuckin' learn."

And he's off, through the crowd at the entrance and straight up to the podium at the front.  Ian can't hear what he says, but there are some wild gestures and hushed but tense words exchanged.  At one point, Mickey gets out his phone and taps at it impatiently, pretending to wait for a response before waving it in the host's face.

That bit seems to do the trick, and Ian is waved over, picking his way through the other waiting groups without looking any if them in the face.

When he gets to the front, Mickey is saying, " and you're lucky he didn't have to hear any of that 'overbooked' bullshit, he'd have your fuckin' job for that," before taking off into the restaurant with Ian trailing behind.

He stops at a booth toward the back, and gestures Ian in first, sliding into the bench on the other side.

"What did you do?" Ian hisses lowly, leaning across the table toward him.

Mickey grins, and taps their feet together, catching one of Ian's and drawing it back to his side. 

"Told 'em you were Ed Sheeran," he jokes.  He reaches under the table to grab Ian's leg, pulling his foot up to rest on Mickey's lap.  Ian has to lean back to make it comfortable, but the stroke of Mickey's thumb against the bone of his ankle is worth it.

"You did not," Ian pokes, but Mickey shrugs.

"Does it matter?" he asks quietly as a waiter approaches.  Ian pulls his leg back, aware of how they must look, but takes Mickey's hand over the table instead.

"Guess not," he accepts, squeezing Mickey's fingers and feeling the metal of his ring.  "Thanks," he adds, and Mickey's smile turns soft.

"Anytime," he murmurs, then grabs the menu to give his order.

--

"That was amazing," Ian groans an hour later, a stack of empty plates between them.  Mickey hums his agreement, taking a final bite of fried ice cream dessert before tossing his spoon down with a clatter.

"Fuck yeah it was," he says with a burp that has the couple at the nearest table eying them with distaste.  "Except the margaritas," he adds with a scowl, taking a long drag from the bottled beer they had quickly switched to.  "Too fuckin' sweet."

"Thought you liked 'em sweet," Ian teases, leaning closer, and Mickey licks his lips.

"Nah," he says slowly, "that's just how I like my men."  He winks, and Ian flushes immediately.

"Oh my God," he manages to squeak out, hands flat on the table.  "You did not just say that." 

Mickey laughs, open and free, and grabs Ian's hand again without prompting.

"The drinks were shit, though," he muses.  "Now that I think of it, maybe I was just drinkin' straight tequila down south."

It's Ian's turn to laugh--"only you, Mick"--and they're both grinning like fools when he stops.

"Ready to get outta here, Red?" Mickey murmurs, tilting his head toward the end of the booth.

"Sure, Mick," Ian agrees easily, then let's go if his husband's hand to fumble for his wallet.  "Let me just..."

"Hey, no," Mickey interrupts.  "They gave away our reservation, man, we ain't payin' for shit."

"What--Mickey!" Ian whispers, but Mickey is already up and moving quickly toward the back, where he catches the door to the kitchen before it closes behind a surprised waiter and slips inside.

With a muffled groan, Ian takes off after him.

He almost makes it, but before the door shuts behind him, he hears the host yelling, "Hey, you can't go in there!"

"Shit, shit, shit," Ian mutters, faced with at least one sous-chef staring at him across the bustling kitchen.  Before he has time to panic, though, Mickey is back at his side, grabbing his arm and pulling.

"This way, dipshit!" he hisses as they wind through counters and racks and boxes toward the door to the back alley.  "Should've known you'd get caught," he pants, out of breath, "it's the fuckin' hair, man, too bright."

"You like my hair," Ian offers stupidly.  Mickey stops long enough to make sure Ian sees him roll his eyes, and grabs a folded tablecloth and a bottle of something fancy from next to the door before he shoves it open with a hip and pulls Ian out into the cool night air.

Ian looks back for pursuit, but the kitchen workers couldn't care less.  One of them even salutes him with a bread knife, lips twitching, until the door closes and breaks their line of sight.

They run for a few blocks anyway, until Mickey tugs him into a different alley to catch their breaths.

"That was some date night," Ian pants, hands on knees and a wide grin on his face.

"Night ain't over yet," Mickey disagrees.  He pushes off the brick wall he had leaned against, motions back to the street with the arm not holding what he pilfered from the restaurant kitchen.  "C'mon, man, we got somewhere to be."

Then he's off again, albeit at a more sedate pace, and Ian laughs again as he follows.  He catches up with a few long strides and grabs Mickey's hand, letting his husband lead him once again.

--

This time, they wander farther, only stopping when they come to a park with overly green grass and a neatly manicured baseball diamond.

It isn't their field, the one with the dugout they used to frequent; that field is back Southside, and they haven't walked that far.  But it's close, and Ian's heart pounds as Mickey leads him around the open fencing and toward the outfield.

They stop at the greenest point, and Mickey releases Ian's hand to throw down his stolen tablecloth, kicking the edges until it's more or less flat and open.  He plops down immediately, just off center, and motions for Ian to do the same as he uses his pocket knife to uncork the stolen bottle of booze.

Ian sits as Mickey takes a swig of the mystery liqour, then accepts the bottle when he passes it over.

"This is nice," he says after a long sip of what turned out to be a moderately pleasant red.  "How did you know it was here?"

Mickey reaches for the bottle again, taking another swallow before he answered.  "Was helping Debs look at schools," he admits.  "For Franny, when she's older."

Ian doesn't press.  He loves how much Mickey dotes on their niece, but he knows talking about it makes him uncomfortable still, their own future hanging over them.

He lays down instead, and looks up. The stars are out, glittering above them in patterns he doesn't understand, but thinks must mean something good.

"Thanks for tonight," he says softly to the sky.

The tablecloth rustles as Mickey leans on his elbows next to him.

"Anytime," he replies. He looks down at Ian, and turns on his side so he can brush red hair back from his face.

"Gonna tell me why you were so upset, earlier?" he questions, voice light but serious. "Not like you to freak out like that."

Ian nuzzles into the hand on his face, and closes his eyes. "Just wanted to do something for you," he admits. "You were so excited about finding that place. And you're always doing stuff like that for me."

His eyes flutter open again, fixing on Mickey's face. "Figures the first time I try, everything goes wrong and you have to take over again."

Mickey doesn't respond right away. He watches him, thumb stroking his cheekbone, hand curling around behind his ear.

When he does speak, it's quiet. "I like doin' that shit for you, Ian," he says. "Makes me...happy. To see you smilin'."

Ian's lips stretch into a gentle curve, and Mickey returns it. "Yeah," he whispers, leaning down until their noses brush. "Like that," he finishes, the words lost against Ian's lips as they kiss.

Ian doesn't know how long they stay there, laying on that thin piece of fabric over the grass, making out under the stars. He doesn't care. Because it's Mickey. And despite everything that went wrong tonight, being there with Mickey was perfect.

They're eventually interuppted by what feels like rain, but turns out a second later to be the timed sprinkler system switching on. Mickey yelps into his mouth at the cold water as they break apart, scrambling to dash across the field and to the relative safety of the sidewalk. They leave the tablecloth where it is, a sad heap if fabric wet with water and remainder of their overturned bottle of red wine, and fall against each other as they turn to head toward home.

"Still wanna thank me?" Mickey jokes on the way, teeth chattering as his skin dries.

"Yeah, I do," Ian says, nudging him with a hip before pulling him back, wrapping a long warm arm around his shoulders.

"Tonight was perfect."

And if they stop again to kiss against under the L on their way, Mickey's back pressed to the support and legs hugging Ian's waist, well. It is still their night, after all.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

pt.1: the swapping begins

-> 4-fking-am masterlist <-

b:katsuki / f.reader

genre: neighbor au, pro-hero bakugou

warning(s)!!: bakugou's potty mouth (ofc)

status: on-going!

synopsis: you had just moved into your new apartment and like every other college student under the sun, you had the worst sleep scheudle known to man.  due to this, you find yourself playing music through your speakers at 4 am. your neighbor slides you a note under your door about your ‘shitty’ taste in music, thus the note swaps begin.

a/n: the first part has arrived! hopefully, updates on this particular series won't be so drawn out since i'm planning to keep all written parts on the shorter side along with the smau parts being just easier since it's all just dialog LOL (ive done smau in the past for other things but they weren't so hot but hopefully i'm better now lol rip)

-x-x-x-

w.count: 1.3k

-x-x-x-

Why did you decide to go back to school to pursue further education again? If it wasn’t to stress yourself into early grey hairs or to rip out those grey hairs until you were bald, then why?

Collapsing over your desk- textbook open and notes out in messy piles with doodles across every edge and corner from wandering concentration- you groan. Exams were right around the corner, but you couldn’t for the life of you get your brain to focus on one thing- much less multiple things- for more than a couple hours, so studying quickly turned into a failed attempt to study.

Normally, studying wasn’t so difficult for you and you actually found it therapeutic in its own weird way. You enjoyed learning new things and the pride and wholeness you felt after succeeding to teach yourself something new was well worth whatever the process to get there was to you. But, this current college burnout was making all those end results hard to get to.

You glanced at the clock on one of the elevated shelves of your desk, the dimly glowing orange letters showing the time of 3:54 am. You groaned again, pushing your forehead into your written words and definitely smearing pencil lead on your forehead while you were at it. Maybe you’d soak up the words this way and have the knowledge transferred automatically into your brain if you pushed just hard enough.

Another dull and unrelenting amount of minutes pass you by before you officially call it quits for the night. Giving up, you walked to the other side of the room and plopped down on your bed’s edge next to one of your nightstands, your wrist rubbing your forehead to hopefully clear away the mess of leftover lead on it. On this nightstand was your radio and beneath it along the shelves and below the drawer was a collection of CDs.

In a world where albums were digital and everything was Bluetooth compatible and no one carried around a portable CD player anymore, you felt somewhat awkward sometimes at the seemingly large and ridiculous collection of yours. There were still plenty of people with CDs and even vinyls, but still- the awkwardness of your ‘retro’ thinking at your age did make you feel a bit self-conscious; no matter how idiotic it sounded.

You leaned over the bed and down to the bottom shelf cubby and grabbed a thin, plastic album case. Popping it open, the cheap plastic threatened to break and bend as you pushed open the top of your radio and placed the CD inside, shutting it again and turning it on.

A small little baby blue boombox that resembled a sort of bubble-like structure- a late birthday gift from your friends back in your hometown.

You figured if you didn’t absolutely blast your music, it would be fine to play aloud. Plus, you decided to put your bedroom in the backmost room, and the second room closer to the front room of your apartment was used for storage- since renting a storage unit was way too expensive. In your mind, the room closet to the door for a single living tenant would definitely be their bedroom- so you did the opposite when you moved in.

With your legs still handing off the side of the bed, you threw yourself back onto the mattress with your arms out to your sides. You stared at the ceiling of your room, thinking that at some point you’d need to purchase some cheap glow-in-the-dark stars to tack up there just for nostalgia’s sake.

As you heard the radio read the CD in small hums, you shut your eyes and smiled when the first track started. To be honest, you weren’t really pressed for what music you were going to be listening to, so you just kinda pulled from your cubby and popped the CD in without even looking at what you grabbed. You almost laughed when an older album your mom used to listen to started playing.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened or when, but the next thing you knew, you were staring blankly and tiredly up to your ceiling again. The sun outside had risen and you heard birds, outside chatter, and basic roadside living outside. Even being up on the fourth floor, you could still hear the world below fairly well since you almost always had your window open with a fan inside of it.

Your body was sore from how you were laying on your back with your arms out, and you felt stiff. Legs partially numb from hanging off the bed all morning when you turned to look at your clock on the desk with squinted eyes.

Almost noon.

“God,” you moaned, forcing yourself up and wobbly making a path out of your room and into the kitchen to solve the problem of your severe cottonmouth. Stepping out of your narrow, short hall, you yawned and stopped before stepping into the kitchen when you saw a note at your doorstep. It had been slid under the front door and was face down, small blotches of black bled through to show that the other side had something written on it in marker.

More intrigued with the mysterious note than ready to deal with your dry mouth and throat that demanded water, you trotted to the paper and flicked it up. Your eyes quickly scanned the note and you gasped, slightly slapping a hand over your mouth.

‘Your taste in music really fuckin’ sucks’

Oh my god, someone heard that? Were you too loud? Was it annoying? Who in their right mind has the further room from the door other than you who did it on purpose so that this situation could be specifically avoided? Would you need to move rooms? No, then you’d have your other neighbors slipping you notes or even knocking on your door.

Maybe this neighbor has a roommate and had no choice but to take the room furthest from the door. Would you need to move out now before you died from overthinking the situation?

Racing back into your room, you tore out a sheet of lined paper and a mark erfrom your jar of pens, pencils, highlightser, what have you, and began to write in large letters a note back.

‘I’m so sorry about the noise! I’ll make sure not to play it that ungodly early again! (also, no it doesn’t, my taste in music is fine).’

You felt a little silly putting the added small text at the bottom of the paper in parentheses, but you felt the need to nip this particular neighbor’s opinion about your music in the butt- you boiled the choice down to comedies sake.

Making your way back to your door, you unlocked the bolt and unlatched the chain as you poked your head out. For it being almost the middle of the day, you made sure no one was in the halls before you jogged out your door and to the left. Your room was the furthest left room and they heard it, so clearly it had to be the left side neighbor... right?

Taking one last left-to-right look down the hall, you knelt at the door, pushed your paper under it, and dashed back into your own apartment before locking it back up. You let out a breath, as you pushed your back into the door, feeling awkward and almost embarrassed at the idea of passing notes with your neighbor. Trying to be secretive about it and acting like if someone saw you push a note under their door you’d be looked at strangely.

In a somewhat awkward way, you felt like some weird criminal.

“Whatever,” you shook your head, slapping your hands on your cheeks and heading to the kitchen. Finally ready to get that glass of water you had been craving to soothe your aching throat with. You had other things to get done today anyway. Now that you were awake, better get your day started.

Even if you may have just completely fucked your sleep schedule.