c l o u d

cloud • 22 • she/her

[chaiwithmybeloved]

Let's have some chai?

♡ Hello! I'm Cloud. I'm 21 and from South Asia.

♡ Fandoms: Haikyuu, Jujutsu Kaisen, My Hero Academia, Attack on Titan.

♡ I used to write a lot of fanfiction during 2020, but somehow lost my motivation. I'm trying to get back into writing.

♡ I reblog (and write) nsfw/suggestive fics, art and posts in general. Do not interact if you are a minor/ ageless blog/ blank blog. You will be blocked.

☆ masterlist.

[digitalvampyr]

i’d rather be waterboarded than realize i don’t mean as much as i thought i did to someone again

[snoopylovessoup]

[calicofae]

social media has really warped our perception of creativity and hobbies. Stop doing things to post them. Just write. Just journal. Just sketch. Just read. Just annotate. Just sing. Just crochet. Just do the thing you’re going to do with the assumption no one will ever see or know you did it. Stop performing. Just enjoy it.

[scribeherself]

I understand the heart of this, and I agree that creativity doesn’t always need to be witnessed to be worthwhile. There is something deeply sacred about making privately, about writing or sketching or singing simply because your soul needs somewhere to put itself. But I also think we’ve flattened the conversation too much when we imply that sharing creativity automatically turns it into performance, or that posting your work means you’re only doing it for praise.

Humans have always shared what they make. We read poems aloud. We pass around books. We hang paintings. We sing in rooms full of people. We tell stories beside fires, at dinner tables, online, in letters, in journals someone might one day find. Art has always had a communal pulse. Sometimes posting is not about accolades at all. Sometimes it’s accountability. Sometimes it’s archive. Sometimes it’s connection. Sometimes it’s the joy of letting something you made leave your hands and find the people it was meant to find. I have always said: create because you love it, not because you want to be loved for it. But the problem isn’t sharing; the problem is when visibility becomes the only reason you create. Enjoying your own creativity and wanting to share it with others are not opposites. Being proud of what you make is not the same thing as performing. Let people make privately. Let people make loudly. Let people be witnessed without assuming their joy is insincere.

[divorce-enjoyer]

why go to the grocery store or to a restaurant when you can just get food delivered why go to the mall when you can get same day shipping on amazon why go to the library when you have kindle why make art when there’s ai why go to the cinema when you can stay at home and watch netflix. we are in a loneliness epidemic btw

[divorce-enjoyer]

the loneliness epidemic was invented by BIG SHIT to sell you more SHIT

[decompositie]

[stellarspecter]

Fucked Up But True: If You Don't Do Anything With Your Day, The Day Will Keep Going On Without You

[ninanation]

Come to think of it, it really is insane that my entire country is burning alive and literally no one in the rest of the world cares. Thousands of Indians are dying every day from the heat, it's 45+ degrees in multiple areas, the government couldn't give two fucks, we're getting severe warnings and red alerts, and not a soul outside of South Asia is speaking about it because why would you ever care about brown people

[ninanation]

please keep talking about how Becky from Maryland doesn't like the rising gas prices. It's clearly the more pressing issue.

[creacher-art]

USA folks, that is a consistent temperature range hitting 113°. Death Valley temperatures. In Banda, it hovered between 116°-118° (47°-48° C) for a week straight.

This has been happening all month with little to no international media attention. Here are a few organizations you can check out for resources or to support:

ActionAid India

SEEDS India

GlobalGiving

Raise India (Project Tapan)

[ruhaniya]

"for you, i would" is such a gentle and sweet love language like no maybe i wouldn't usually do this but i would love to do it if it would make you happy.

[batfig-deactivated20250903]

there is something erotic about irritating a man. i’m really enjoying pissing you off. do you want fuck me yet

[bfbkg]

coming home from a tiring day and expecting bkg to be up and ready and cooking but to find him on the couch snoozing :(

nom nom nom

for the next move in your relationship with bakugou katsuki, he gave you the key to his apartment. it’s a fancy word, apartment. not flat, not your student shared house you lived in a few years ago or your family home with your tiny bedroom and snacks that will be snatched by your siblings.

your boyfriend’s apartment. it’s a skyscraper bachelor pad which, with the integration of you in his life, has become a home of more. or really katsuki’s house, with mini shrines to you all over it.

your favourite cereal and fruit bars in the cupboards, your favourite biscuits you dip in your tea and the fridge with a tub of the only yoghurt you eat. his living room which before had no blankets, has four. all chosen by you every time you go shopping with him and his inability to say no. then about three books you’re currently reading, your nintendo switch you leave at his house. his bathroom with your spare toothbrush, makeup wipes and a duplicate skincare selection of the one you have at home.

however, even though it might look like you live here for half of your week, your boyfriend still loves to treat you like a guest.

cooking for you every time you come over. fluffing up his cushions so you don’t think he only comes to his apartment to sleep and leaves for work. cleans up, showers, resprays himself with cologne and deodorant.

with all that said, you know what to expect with katsuki, especially when you use his front door key for the first time. no need to knock and wait to hear him rush over to the door, waiting a single second to pretend to look like he didn’t just run before opening the door.

this time, you opened the door yourself and instead of seeing your boyfriend in his kitchen, mixing something in his wok, adding soy sauce somewhere and veggies somewhere else, you can’t see him anywhere. you know he’s home though, he texted you an hour ago to say he would be.

you kick off your shoes and pull off your jacket. dumping your bag on the floor, you wade your way through his apartment.

“katsuki? are you on the toilet?” you call but as soon as you enter his living room, you go silent. a smile springs up on your face instead.

“awe,” you mumble and the feeling you get when you see a cute puppy, a little tiny kitten or a chubby sweet baby, fills up inside of you. warmth and love, everything pink with the urge to squeeze.

this grown ass man was dead to the world. laid out on his cloud ivory L shaped sofa, on his back, chest softly breathing up and down, up and down. in through his nose and out through his lips.

it’s rare you witness katsuki sleeping. he’s always up before you for his work and on weekends when you get to sleep in, he’s always in that half awake stage when if you try and sneak out under him, suddenly he gains all consciousness to drag you back.

the size of him is a shock. to see a man that large resting. he feels like a lion, ready to pounce at any hint of a predator. he’s in his comfy clothes, wool hoodie and grey joggers. both his hands on his stomach, resting over each other like an old man. you coo at the sight of him with no frowns nor is he on the edge of a bark.

you kneel at the edge of the sofa, knowing that if anyone where to see you now, you’d be framed as a loving girlfriend or an utter creep.

you couldn’t care less. you brush katsuki’s damp blonde strands off his forehead, wondering whether kissing his cheek is worth it to wake him up.

until one eye snaps open. bakugou jumps out of your grasp, onto his elbows with a yelp, “fuck!”

he makes you jump too, eyes wide as you watch his cortisol slowly level back to normal.

“it’s just me!”

“shit, i wasn’t expectin’ you to be there.” he lays back on the sofa, forearm over his eyes. sleep causes his voice to be a deep growl, every word delicious. “didn’t even realise i fell asleep, was supposed to be startin’ dinner for ya.”

“it’s okay, you must have been sleepy,” you say quietly, hands back on your lap and bakugou swings his head over to look at you.

he licks his bottom lip. eyes with creases around them, skin stiff but the endearment in his eyes is undeniable.

“how are you, sweets? sorry, i’m outta it.” he reaches for your waist, urging you to sit up next to him on the sofa.

you do eagerly, flinging your body over his like he’s your life boat, head on his shoulder. bakugou wraps his arms around your back.

“i’m fine. you’re such a cute sleeper.”

bakugou scoffs, closing his eyes, “shut up.”

“you are! like a baby, one who’s eating all their meals.”

“yeah?” he entertains.

“hm,” you hum, “wanna kiss all over your sweet cheeks.”

he peels one eye open. one thing about the prohero, he loves your attention. “go on. then i’ll start cookin’.”

you sit up, hands on his shoulders, “we can always order in. you’re clearly exhausted.”

“i like cookin’ for you,” he mumbles when you press your lips onto his cheekbone.

immediately bakugou grins, hands resting on your hips.

“but you don’t have to.”

another kiss to his right cheekbone. then his chin.

“i would rather lay here with you,” he murmurs.

“nice. i’ll look for something for us.”

a kiss on his eyelids, then his forehead.

“proper kiss now.” he pushes, tilting up his chin to keep closer to your face.

“so bossy,” you smirk before pressing your lips onto his.

[exitwound]

“Death Blowing Bubbles” made out of plaster by Johann Georg Leinberger in the Holy Grave Chapel, Michaelsberg Abbey, Germany, 18th century. remained intact despite the building becoming a hospital in 1803.

[missdynamighttt]

acidentally snooping on bf! katsuki's phone and seeing something... kinky.

you were just on katsuki’s phone, playing subway surfers. you honestly didn’t even remember because the moment you accidentally swiped to his notes app, your eyes landed on a particular note titled “shit to try w/ her” and curiosity got the best of you.

at first, you thought it was something mundane—maybe new date ideas, training routines, or even a new recipes. but as soon as you opened it, your face went hot.

because it was a list. a very detailed list of all the filthy things katsuki wanted to do to you. some of it was stuff you’d already done—rougher, filthier things that had you squeezing your thighs together just remembering them. but then there were the others. the things he clearly hadn’t brought up yet.

shit to try w/ her

- overstimulating her (worse than usual. she looks so pretty when she cries on my dick)

- mirror sex while making her watch (want her to see how fuckin’ pretty she looks fallin’ apart.)

- recording it (for us only).

- thigh riding while i just sit back and watch (bet she'd whine so fuckin pretty too)

- more praise. (she likes that. she gets all shy. cute as fuck.)

- see how many times i can make her come in a single night.

your eyes widened at that last one. oh.

you kept scrolling, your thighs pressing together involuntarily. you knew katsuki was a freak, but seeing it written out like this, with all the little notes and thoughts he’d clearly been holding onto—made your breath hitch.

this was… a lot. not that you were opposed to most of it, but the fact that katsuki was sitting on this list, keeping it to himself, planning? that was almost hotter than the list itself.

you were still staring at the screen when you heard the bathroom door open. before you could react, a shadow loomed over you.

“the fuck you doin’?” katsuki’s voice was gruff, but he sounded relaxed—like he was toweling off his hair as he walked into the room.

you scrambled to lock his phone, but it was too late. the second he saw the look on your face, the way you were gripping his phone like you’d just uncovered a government secret, his eyes narrowed.

“…what did you see?” his voice was cautious now, tinged with suspicion.

you slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “me? what are you doing making a list of all the filthy things you wanna do to me?”

katsuki froze .a slow, deep flush crept up his neck, spreading to his ears. his jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides like he wasn’t sure if he should snatch his phone away or act like nothing happened.

“…you weren’t supposed to see that.”

your smirk widened. “oh? and when was i supposed to?”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “dunno. when i fuckin’ brought it up.”

you leaned in, voice teasing. “well, damn. didn’t know you had all these filthy little fantasies about me.”

“shut up,” katsuki sputtered, face burning, his hand swiping for the phone. he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “fuckin’ kill me.”

you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “y’know, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

his fingers dug into your waist, his jaw clenching. “don’t—”

“i can’t believe you wrote it all down,” you teased breathlessly. “you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”

katsuki groaned, muffled against your neck. “i’m gonna kill you. you keep runnin’ that mouth, and i’ll start checkin’ shit off that list right now."

you bit your lip, feeling bolder. “you know… we could. cross something off the list.”

his eyes snapped to yours, darkening in an instant.

“…get on the bed.”

and then, without another word, he crushed his lips against yours and, well—you did end up checking something off that list that night. particularly, the last one.

you lost count somewhere after the third orgasm, but katsuki didn’t. oh no, he kept track. every time your body seized up, every time you sobbed his name, every time you gasped that you couldn’t take anymore—he whispered the number into your ear like a reminder.

“four,” he’d growled, dragging his thumb over your swollen clit. “look at you, fuckin’ cryin’ for me.”

“five,” he rasped later, his grip on your thighs tightening when you tried to squirm away. “told ya you could give me more.”

by the last one, your body was boneless, your voice gone, and your mind a hazy blur of pleasure. katsuki finally relented, collapsing beside you and pulling you into his chest.

you felt his lips press against your temple, his breathing uneven as he whispered, “fuckin’ champ.”

the morning after, you were sprawled across katsuki’s chest, his arm draped lazily around your waist as the sun peeked through the curtains. your entire body ached in the best way possible.

you groaned softly, shifting to get more comfortable, and his chest rumbled with a low chuckle, his fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare back. "you alive?"

"barely," you mumbled into his chest. "my legs hate you."

he chuckled, the sound vibrating beneath your cheek. "told ya you could take it."

you huffed a laugh, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. his crimson eyes were soft in the morning light, the usual sharpness replaced with warmth—and just a hint of smug pride.

“well, i didn’t know you were gonna go for the damn world record,” you teased. “how many times was it?”

his smirk deepened. “seven.”

your jaw dropped. “seven?”

“mhm,” he squeezed your waist. “you were real fuckin’ cute, too. cryin’, beggin’, squeezin’ me like that. thought you were gonna pass out on number six.”

your cheeks burned. “oh my god, stop.”

“why? can’t handle hearin’ how fuckin’ pretty you were last night?”

you covered your face with your hands, groaning. but katsuki was having none of it—he pried your hands away and pinned them to the mattress, leaning down until his lips brushed yours.

“seven,” he repeated against your mouth, grinning when you squirmed beneath him. “and next time? we’re goin’ for eight.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[marinella-ela]

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

I need a soft dom in my life

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

I want him to spoil me and take care of me and make sure I'm happy and healthy and fuck me ruthlessly and make me cum so much i can't even think and then i want him to coddle me after

[bisexualgoth]

santa clarita diet is so fucking criminally underrated. not only is plot a Drew Barrymore and Timothy Olyphant killing nazis rapists and misogynists so drew Barrymore can eat them, plot b is about their daughter becoming an ecoterrorist. like. you can't beat this

[takaholic]

“I’m terrified of showing you my heart” gf & “I’ve already seen it because you’re terrible at hiding it” bf

[corpus--incorporated]

you don’t have to match my freak you just have to think whatever’s wrong with me is fascinating and perhaps even sexual