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@inkyteaart
EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS
!5 usd sketch, 15 usd flat color!
Hey yall, I wasn't gonna open up commissions just yet, but I am flat broke till next week. And I have both myself, my two roommates, and three animals to feed till then.
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Hey guys, my friend really needs help. I reblogged their post on this, but thought I'd make my own as well. They lost their job, and need help with keeping a roof over their two cats and their own heads!
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Hey guys, my friend really needs help. I reblogged their post on this, but thought I'd make my own as well. They lost their job, and need help with keeping a roof over their two cats and their own heads!
Please even $1 - $5 helps so much!
If you can't donate, reblog! Need to get this seen by more people to help them get to their goal!
Hello. I am a nonbinary person about to lose housing for myself and… Crystina Moore needs your support for Help a Nonbinary Person and Thei
I hate doing this but I'm stuck
Hello. I am a nonbinary person about to lose housing for myself and… Crystina Moore needs your support for Help a Nonbinary Person and Thei
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 💥⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SOMETHING LIKE SPITE | k.bakugo
↳ table of contents + ao3 link
previous | next
SYPNOSIS. The aftermath of the party leaves Bakugou reeling. Unable to shake the memory of your dismissal, he spirals into a week of obsessive "reconnaissance" (aka stalking) trying to figure you out. When his friends finally call him out on his misery, Kaminari proposes a solution that might just be the worst idea in history: a bet.
TROPES: College AU, 10 Things I Hate About You inspired, Bet Trope, Enemies to Lovers, OC has a backbone
TAGS: bakusquad being supportive but also roasting him, kirishima is the voice of reason, kaminari is chaotic evil, bakugo katsuki has never been rejected in his life and it shows, he is spiraling, DOWN horrendous, downright stalker behavior, if this wasn't fiction i would call the police, scary dog privilege is the only reason he hasn't been reported, sero almost died for this 😔, aizawa is tired, kaminari definitely started this bet just to watch the world burn, you remain unbothered as usual, quirk is a metaphor for your heart (🙂↕️), she ordered black coffee and he fell in love instantly, kaminari denki is the villain of this story actually (still love my boy though), kirishima is the only one sharing a brain cell with logic, mina is just here for the tea, men will literally enter a high stakes bet instead of going to therapy
WC: 9.7K words
Bet On It
Monday morning hit like a sledgehammer wrapped in bureaucracy.
Bakugou Katsuki had been awake since five—earlier than usual, which was saying something—staring at his ceiling and mentally cataloging every reason why the past three days had been absolute shit.
The party was Friday.
It was now Monday.
Seventy-two hours.
And he was still thinking about it.
Still replaying the moment in his head like some kind of fucked-up highlight reel he couldn't turn off. Your face. Your voice. The way you'd looked at him like he was background noise you'd already learned to tune out.
"You think being loud makes you right. It just makes you easier to ignore."
He'd heard worse. Had people scream at him, curse him out, throw actual punches. He'd been called every name in the book and a few that probably weren't even in print yet.
But no one—no one—had ever looked at him the way you did.
Like he wasn't worth the energy to hate.
Like he was just... tiresome.
His alarm went off at 5:30. He didn't need it. He was already up, already dressed in his training gear, already lacing his boots with more aggression than the task required.
He needed to move. Needed to hit something. Needed to do literally anything that wasn't lying in bed thinking about some girl whose name he didn't even fucking know.
The fact that he didn't know your name was eating at him.
He knew everyone. Or at least, everyone knew him. That was how it worked. He was Bakugou Katsuki—top of the class, one of the strongest quirk users in their year, future number one hero. People paid attention. People cared.
But you didn't.
And that was the problem.
more... MORE!!!
⊹ ࣪ ˖ 💥⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SOMETHING LIKE SPITE | k.bakugo
SYPNOSIS. Friday nights are for true crime documentaries and avoidance, not frat parties and socializing. But when Kendo drags you out for "just one hour," you end up face-to-face with UA’s loudest ego, Katsuki Bakugo. He thinks he can make you the punchline. You decide to make him the example.
TROPES: College AU, 10 Things I Hate About You inspired, Bet Trope, Enemies to Lovers, OC has a backbone
TAGS: you woke up and chose violence, bakugou fucked around and found out, RIP bakugou's ego, he thought he was the main character, you said 'bet', kendo just wanted you to socialize and you started a war, true crime documentaries, bakugou katsuki gets humbled, social interaction, mineta catching strays as he should, katsuki likes them mean
WC: 7.0K words
The Party
THE THING ABOUT Friday nights in your third year at UA University is that they all blur together into one long exercise in avoidance. Avoidance of people, of noise, of the desperate performative bullshit that passes for socializing when you cram a bunch of twenty-somethings with hero complexes into too-small spaces and add alcohol.
You'd gotten good at avoidance.
Tonight's plan was simple: sweatpants, the leftovers from yesterday's convenience store run, and a true crime documentary that had been sitting in your queue for two weeks. Not exciting. Not aspirational. But it was yours, and it didn't require you to pretend to give a shit about anything or anyone.
You were three minutes into the opening credits—some grainy footage of a crime scene in rural America, the narrator's voice settling into that familiar cadence of detached fascination—when the knock came.
Three sharp raps. Confident. Persistent.
You didn't move.
Another three knocks, louder this time.
"I know you're in there," came the voice through the door. Itsuka Kendo, your next-door neighbor and the human embodiment of sunshine trying to burn through your carefully constructed cloud cover. "I can hear the murder show."
You considered pretending you'd fallen asleep. Considered just... not answering. She'd give up eventually. Probably.
"Don't make me use my quirk on this door. You know I'll do it."
Fuck.
You paused the documentary—the narrator frozen mid-sentence, some detective's face caught in an unfortunate expression—and hauled yourself off your bed. Your feet hit the cold floor, and you shuffled to the door in your socks, already regretting the decision to answer.
When you pulled it open, Kendo was standing there in a cropped sweater and high-waisted jeans that actually fit her like a normal person, her orange hair pulled back in a high ponytail. She looked... ready. Like someone who had plans that didn't involve dissecting the failures of small-town police departments.
"No," you said immediately.
She didn't even blink. "I haven't said anything yet."
"You're dressed like you're about to drag me somewhere. So: no."
Kendo's smile was patient, which was somehow worse than if she'd argued. She leaned against your doorframe, arms crossed, and gave you the look. The one that said she'd already anticipated every excuse you were about to throw at her.
"There's a party," she started.
"Absolutely fucking not."
"—at Sero's place, off-campus, and before you say no again—"
"No."
"—you've turned down every single thing I've invited you to this semester. Every single one." She held up a hand, ticking off fingers. "The Class A and B mixer. The movie night Tetsutetsu organized. That dinner thing at the izakaya. The—"
"I was busy."
"You were here. Alone. Watching people get murdered on TV."
"I was busy," you repeated, leaning against the doorframe now too, mirroring her stance. "And yeah, I like my murder shows. They're more honest than whatever performative circle-jerk you're trying to drag me to."
Kendo sighed, but it wasn't annoyed. It was that specific flavor of concern that made your teeth itch. Like she thought you were some kind of project. A puzzle to be solved.
"Look," she said, her voice softer now. Dangerous territory. "I'm not trying to fix you or whatever you think this is. I just think... you can't hide in here forever. It's our third year. This is supposed to be—"
"The best time of our lives?" you cut in, your voice flat. "Yeah, I've heard the speech. Make memories, build connections, network for our futures as pro heroes. Blah blah fucking blah."
"I was going to say it's supposed to be the time when you figure out who you want to be," Kendo corrected, unbothered by the interruption. "And I don't know, maybe that includes actually talking to people once in a while."
You stared at her. She stared back.
She was good at this. Too good. Kendo had a way of making you feel like the asshole even when you were the one being reasonable. It was infuriating.
"I talk to people," you said finally.
"You talk to me. And even that's like pulling teeth half the time."
"Maybe I just don't like people."
"Maybe," she agreed, and there was no judgment in it. Just... acknowledgment. "But you also don't let anyone get close enough to find out if they're worth liking."
That one hit a little too close. You felt the familiar prickle of defensiveness crawl up your spine, the urge to say something cutting, something that would make her back off.
But Kendo wasn't pushing. She was just... there. Steady. Annoying as hell, but steady.
"One hour," she said, switching tactics. Her voice was lighter now, almost teasing. "Come with me for one hour. If you hate it—and you probably will—you can leave. I won't guilt-trip you. I won't follow you. You can come right back here and watch..." she glanced past you at the TV screen, "...whatever the hell Serial Killer: The Untold Story is."
"It's a documentary about systemic failures in investigative procedures," you muttered.
"Riveting."
"It is, actually."
Kendo grinned. "One hour. That's it. You owe me after I covered for you when you bailed on hero ethics last week."
"I didn't bail. I was sick."
"You were hungover."
"Same thing."
She laughed at that, and you hated how it almost made you smile. Almost.
You looked back at your room. At the dim lighting, the unmade bed, the laptop still glowing with the frozen image of some detective's constipated expression. It was comfortable. Safe. Exactly what you wanted.
And that was the problem, wasn't it?
You wanted to stay. You always wanted to stay. And maybe Kendo had a point, even if you'd rather chew glass than admit it out loud. You'd been at UA for almost three years now, and what did you have to show for it? Decent grades, a solid handle on your quirk, and a reputation for being that girl who didn't show up to anything.
Not because you couldn't. Because you didn't want to.
Because it was easier to keep everyone at arm's length than to risk them getting close enough to leave.
Your mom had left. Not by choice, but she'd still left. And everyone else? They'd proven over and over that people didn't stay. They didn't care. Not really. So why bother pretending otherwise?
But Kendo was still standing there, waiting. And she'd used the friendship card, which was a low blow, because Kendo was one of maybe two people in this entire school you actually tolerated.
"One hour," you said finally, your voice resigned.
Kendo's face lit up. "Yes! Okay, go change. You're not wearing that."
You glanced down at your sweatpants and oversized hoodie. "What's wrong with this?"
"Nothing, if you're planning to sleep through the party. Come on. Jeans. A shirt that doesn't look like you stole it from a dead guy. Five minutes."
"This hoodie is perfectly fine—"
"Five minutes," Kendo repeated, already backing toward her own dorm. "I'll meet you in the hall. And I swear to god, if you try to sneak out the back stairwell, I will hunt you down."
She disappeared into her room before you could argue further.
You stood there for a moment, door still open, staring at the empty hallway.
One hour.
You could survive one hour.
You'd survived worse.
Five minutes later—closer to ten, because fuck her timeline—you were standing in front of your mirror, staring at your reflection with the kind of dull resentment usually reserved for jury duty or dental appointments.
You'd changed. Barely. Black jeans that actually fit, a dark green long sleeved shirt that was tighter than your usual oversized armor but not so tight that it felt like you were trying. Combat boots, because if you were going to suffer, you were going to do it in footwear that could double as a weapon.
Your hair was... fine. You'd run a hand through it. That was enough.
Makeup? Absolutely not.
You looked like someone who was going to a party under duress, which was accurate.
Kendo knocked again—of course she did—and you grabbed your phone and keys, shoving them into your pockets.
When you stepped into the hallway, Kendo gave you a once-over and nodded approvingly. "See? You're a functional human being when you try."
"Fuck off."
"There she is."
You fell into step beside her as you headed toward the stairs, already planning your exit strategy. One hour. You'd show your face, stand in a corner, maybe grab a drink to make it look like you were participating, and then you'd bail. Easy.
Kendo was talking—something about who was going to be there, some drama between classmates you didn't care about—but you were only half-listening. Your brain was already three steps ahead, calculating the least painful way to endure the next sixty minutes.
"—and I heard Bakugou's going to be there, so that should be entertaining," Kendo was saying.
You blinked. "Who?"
"Bakugou. You know, from Class A? Loud? Angry? Wins every training exercise by sheer force of will and explosions?"
Oh.
Him.
You didn't know Bakugou Katsuki personally, but you knew of him. Everyone did. He was one of those people who took up space just by existing. The kind of guy who made sure you knew he was in the room, whether you wanted to or not.
You'd seen him around campus—hard to miss, considering he was usually either yelling at someone or blowing something up in training. He had that brand of confidence that bordered on arrogance, the kind that came from being good at everything and knowing it.
You'd never spoken to him. Never had a reason to.
And if tonight went the way you planned, you never would.
"Great," you muttered. "Can't wait."
Kendo shot you a look. "You're going to behave, right?"
"I'm always a fucking delight."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
You stepped outside into the cool October air, and despite everything—the reluctance, the dread, the bone-deep certainty that this was going to be a waste of time—you followed Kendo toward the party.
One hour.
You could do this.
Probably.
The house was exactly what you'd expected: too many people crammed into too little space, music bleeding through the walls before you even reached the front door, and the kind of chaotic energy that made your skin crawl.
Sero's off-campus rental was one of those old two-story places that had probably been nice once, back before it became a revolving door for hero students who needed somewhere to throw parties without campus security shutting them down. The front yard was already littered with red cups, and you could see silhouettes moving behind the windows—shadows of people who were definitely having more fun than you were about to have.
"Ready?" Kendo asked, her voice bright with anticipation.
"No."
"Perfect."
She opened the door without knocking—because apparently that's what people did at parties, just walked into someone else's space like they owned it—and the noise hit you like a physical thing.
Music. Laughter. Shouting. The bass vibrating through the floor, up your legs, settling somewhere in your chest where it didn't belong. The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, cologne, perfume, and the distinct undernote of too many bodies in an enclosed space.
Your jaw tightened.
Too many people. Too loud. Too much.
The entryway was packed—people clustered in groups, talking over each other, red cups in hand. You recognized some faces from Class A and B, a few from general studies, others you didn't know and didn't care to. Everyone seemed to be mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-performance of whatever role they'd decided to play tonight.
Kendo grabbed your wrist—gentle, but firm enough that you couldn't immediately pull away—and tugged you further inside.
"Come on, let's find—oh! Tetsu!"
And just like that, she was gone.
Not physically—she was still standing next to you—but her attention had shifted completely. Tetsutetsu from Class B was waving from across the room, his wide grin visible even through the crowd, and Kendo was already moving toward him, her hand slipping from your wrist as she got pulled into the orbit of her classmates.
You stood there for a moment, suddenly alone in a sea of people who all seemed to know exactly where they were supposed to be.
This was fine.
You'd expected this.
Kendo was nice, but she wasn't a babysitter, and you didn't need one anyway. You were a grown-ass adult. You could handle a fucking party.
Your eyes scanned the room—automatic, instinctive. Exits first. Always exits first.
Front door behind you. Kitchen to the left, probably a back door through there. Stairs to the right leading up to the second floor, and if this place had the same layout as most houses like this, there'd be a side door or a window you could slip through if things got unbearable.
Good. You had options.
Next: the landscape.
The living room was the epicenter. Couches shoved against the walls to make space, a makeshift dance floor where people were packed together, moving to the beat. Not quite dancing—more like swaying and grinding and pretending they knew what rhythm was. The coffee table had been turned into a bar, bottles of varying quality lined up like soldiers. Someone had strung up shitty string lights that flickered intermittently, casting everything in a dim, gold-ish glow that was probably meant to be atmospheric but just made everyone look slightly jaundiced.
You hated it already.
The social hierarchy was on full display, as it always was at these things.
There were the performers—the ones in the center, laughing too loud, moving too much, making sure everyone could see how much fun they were having. Mina Ashido was in the middle of the dance floor, pink skin glowing under the lights, surrounded by a group that fed off her energy. She was good at this. Being the center. Making people feel like they were part of something.
Then there were the clusters—smaller groups scattered around the edges, people who weren't quite confident enough to be in the center but didn't want to be alone either. They stood in tight circles, cups held like shields, conversations that looked intense but were probably about nothing.
And then there were the desperate ones. The people who moved between groups, trying to find a foothold, laughing a little too hard at jokes that weren't funny, agreeing a little too enthusiastically with opinions they probably didn't share. You could spot them easily. They were the ones who looked like they were working, like socializing was a job they hadn't quite mastered.
You felt a familiar curl of contempt in your chest.
This was all so... performative. Everyone playing their parts, pretending this mattered. Pretending that standing in a crowded room with people they barely knew, drinking shitty alcohol and shouting over music, was somehow meaningful.
It wasn't shyness that kept you out of it. It wasn't social anxiety or fear of judgment.
You just didn't see the fucking point.
These people didn't care about each other. Not really. They cared about being seen, about being part of something, about filling the silence with noise so they didn't have to sit with themselves for five goddamn seconds.
You'd tried it before. The socializing thing. The making friends thing. And every single time, it ended the same way: people left. People got bored. People realized you weren't fun enough, weren't easy enough, weren't worth the effort.
So why bother?
You took a breath, forcing yourself to relax your shoulders. One hour. You just had to survive one hour, and then you could go back to your room and finish your documentary in peace.
You moved toward the kitchen—anywhere with fewer people sounded good right now.
The kitchen was marginally better. Still crowded, but the crowd was thinner, more focused on the task of acquiring alcohol than on performing for each other. The counters were covered in bottles, mixers, half-empty bags of chips. Someone had attempted to make jungle juice in a large cooler, and it looked exactly as toxic as you'd expect.
You grabbed a cup from the stack and surveyed your options.
Beer? Too weak. You'd need four of them to even feel anything, and you didn't plan on being here long enough for that.
Vodka? Reliable.
You poured a generous amount into your cup—more than was probably advisable, but fuck it—and added just enough cranberry juice that it didn't look like you were trying to forget your own name. It tasted like regret and bad decisions, which felt appropriate.
You leaned against the wall near the doorway, positioning yourself so you had a clear view of the living room but weren't technically in it. Close enough to look like you were participating. Far enough away that no one would try to pull you into conversation.
Perfect.
You took a sip. The vodka burned going down, sharp and unpleasant, and you welcomed it.
From here, you could observe without being observed. Watch the patterns, the dynamics, the little performances everyone was putting on.
Kendo was still with Tetsutetsu and a few others from Class B—Kuroiro, Komori, people whose names you knew but whose personalities you'd never bothered to learn. She looked happy. Relaxed. Like she actually wanted to be here.
Good for her.
A group of Class A students were near the makeshift bar, loud and animated. You recognized Kaminari—electric blond hair, that goofy grin that made him look younger than he was. Sero, the host, was next to him, laughing at something. Kirishima was there too, red hair spiked up, his whole demeanor radiating that aggressively friendly energy that some people mistook for depth.
And then—
Your eyes caught on movement near the center of the living room.
Him.
Bakugou Katsuki.
He wasn't hard to spot. Even in a room full of people vying for attention, he commanded it effortlessly. He was standing near the couch, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a drink he didn't seem particularly interested in. His blond hair caught the shitty string lights, and even from across the room, you could see the sharp lines of his face, the permanent scowl that seemed to be his default expression.
He was surrounded, as you'd expected. Kirishima was next to him, saying something that made Kaminari laugh. Mina drifted over, looping her arm through Kirishima's, saying something that made the whole group react.
But Bakugou... Bakugou wasn't really with them. He was adjacent. Present, but separate. Like he didn't need to participate to be the center of gravity.
People looked at him when they talked. Angled themselves toward him. Waited for his reactions.
And he gave them, occasionally. A smirk. A scoff. A comment that you couldn't hear from here but that made people laugh—not with him, exactly, but at whatever poor bastard he'd just verbally destroyed.
You'd seen his type before. The ones who confused cruelty with charisma. Who thought being loud and abrasive was the same as being confident. Who got away with being assholes because they were good at what they did, and people were willing to overlook the asshole part if it meant staying in their orbit.
Magnetic, sure.
But magnets could repel just as easily as they attracted.
You took another sip of your drink, eyes still on him.
He said something—you couldn't hear it, but you saw the way Kaminari's face twisted in exaggerated offense, the way Kirishima tried to play peacemaker, the way Mina rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.
Everyone just... let him be like that.
And maybe that was what bothered you most. Not that he was an asshole—you could respect a good asshole if they owned it. But the fact that everyone around him enabled it. Laughed it off. Treated his cruelty like it was charm.
Your grip tightened on your cup.
You didn't know him. You'd never spoken to him. And if you had any say in it, you never would.
He was everything you'd come here to avoid: loud, performative, desperate for attention even if he'd never admit it.
✦⁺₊✩☽⋆𝓢𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓝𝓾𝓭𝓮𝓼⋆☾✩⁺₊✦
CW: f!reader, Vox's POV, boss/employee dynamic, unsolicited 🍆 pics, reader is a lil shit, teasing, blowjob, vox being slightly insecure, @peach-flavored-flambe brain infected mine and gave birth to this and it won't go back in so now it's out, fluff (?), attempt at humour
Vox sends you a dick pic (that he totally didn't spend all morning working on) and waits for you to shower him with grandiose praise, except you had other plans instead. (vox x reader)
Vox bounced his leg so hard the floor practically vibrated, his eyes snapping between his phone and the live feed on his monitor. The camera was aimed at his not-crush...
maybe the real treasure was the codependent relationships we formed that led us to do morally questionable things along the way
To my favorite game and gang!
It’s been a hot minute since I’ve made any art. Work and life has kept me busy and I just haven’t had the chance to get back to my ipad. But I miss drawing so bad!!!! I will get back to it I promise.
In apology, here is a Shikamaru pen sketch I did at work lol
ᡣ𐭩 fratboy!dick grayson is surprisingly good at aftercare ⸝⸝ .ᐟ
Your bodies are both damp with sweat as you come down from your highs. A panting Dick Grayson is laid on top of you with his annoyingly toned arms wrapped around your waist, smiling into your neck while peppering lazy kisses all over the skin like he didn't just fuck you into oblivion for over an hour.
It’s… weird.
When the vodka decided for you that you'd let yourself be taken upstairs to fuck the president of a frat, you expected him to pull out and roll over. If he was extra nice, he'd get you some water before you left. That was supposed to be the extent of it.
He's been cuddling you like this for five minutes now.
"You okay?" he asks quietly, his voice almost tender as he presses one final kiss to your neck before looking up at you. "You did enjoy yourself, right?"
You'd laugh at the question if his weight wasn't almost crushing your lungs. He just had you doing an orgasm marathon and now he's acting like a teenage boy who's scared he didn't find the clit.
"No, it was great. 'm just... recovering." You eventually manage to say, giving him a small smile. He seems visibly relieved.
"Cool, good," he whispers with a kiss to your nose, finally rolling off you to lay next to you. His arms stay wrapped lazily around your torso. "Did you, uh, wanna get cleaned up?"
You hope he doesn't see the visible surprise on your face. "I can go clean myself up. Bathroom?"
He points to a door to the side of his room. Of course he has an ensuite. He slides out of the bed and grabs some sweatpants along with a t-shirt from his dresser, a slightly faded Metropolis U logo adorning the front. "You can change into this, if you want. Figured it'd be comfier." He whispers, handing it to you with a kiss on the cheek.
You smile awkwardly, muttering a small thank you before heading to the ensuite. You like how sweet he's being. The whole thing just feels unexpected.
He's dressed in some sweats by the time you walk back into the bedroom, a sweet smile already on his tired face when he sees you. He gestures for you to come back in bed, lifting the blankets up.
"You want anything to eat? Drink?" he mutters as you settle back into his hold, pressing a kiss on your temple.
"No, no. I don't wanna overstay my welcome."
"Well you're welcome all the time. Always welcome. If you want to be," he immediately says, almost nervously.
Dick Grayson, president of Delta Phi Rho, the guy who's weirdly a genius in your forensic psych class, is nervous to ask you to stay the night after fucking you.
"I think I'd maybe like that, yeah," you whisper back with a small chuckle, looking up at him from your place on his chest.
He grins, subconsciously holding you tighter, practically cradling you. "Me too," he murmurs, now nuzzling your shoulder, arms snaking under your shirt to gently rub your bare back. "Wanna see you again."
"Mhm?" you hum, your body growing more exhausted by the second. He nods into your shoulder, sleep slowly taking over his body as well.
"It's a date," he mumbles, sleepy smile on his face as he faces up to kiss you softly.
"how are you a virgin and this perverted?" ☆
your best friend geto looks like he's been accosted. eyes wide, jaw slack, face all but screwed up in surprise at the words that have just come out of your mouth. what was it you said you were reading about? triple penetration? he might pass out.
you can't help but laugh at the look he's giving you. "what? you didn't watch porn when you were still a virgin?"
without warning, he snatches your phone right out of your hand and squints at the screen. "my porn was tasteful," he tsks. "this is... uncouth."
"uncouth?" you try to take back your phone, just for him to roll over in bed and hold it out of reach. you're half on top of him in seconds, clawing at his bulky arm. "give it back!"
"what is dac..." he stifles a laugh at the way you try so desperately for your archive of erotica. "...dacryphilia?"
"you don't know? what, no game? no hoes? bitches?"
"i manage, thank you," he rolls the both of you over and pins you down against the mattress, which has your breath hitching in your throat for some reason. it makes him smirk like a fucking idiot. "what, nervous?"
no... yes? you don't know. suguru has never made you feel nervous... jittery, maybe. you'd use nauseous, in both the good and bad way. sometimes he gives you this look that makes you feel like you have food poisoning. your body seems to react to him at the extreme.
you've always been touchy with each other. your friendship has been physical since day one—if you aren't touching, you're not in the same room. it's just how it's always been, a hand on his arm as you walk together, or his arm around your shoulders when you're seated. it's... normal. familiar.
so this —suguru pinning you down by the wrists, his long black hair falling down to tunnel your vision right onto that pretty face of his—probably shouldn't get you this wet.
or wet at all, really.
"tears," you say, for some fucking reason. "dacryphilia, it's crying, or making someone cry. like being overstimulated, or... humiliated, to the point of tears. or just crying for the sake of it."
geto looks down at you, and you try not to watch the muscles of his arms bulge as he keeps you locked beneath him. "i know."
you frown. "you know?"
"i just wanted to hear you try and explain it," he laughs. "fucking pervert."
"i'm going to kill you slowly," you wriggle beneath him. "get off me, suguru."
"or what? you'll cry? i think you're into that..." he teases, and manages to shift both of your wrists into one hand so that he can reach for your phone again. he thumbs it open and resumes your 'history' tab with a shit-eating grin. "virginity loss... best friends to lovers... size kink... corruption... breeding ? really?"
"shut the fuck up," you hiss. you buck your hips up, not to throw him off—because you can admit he's bigger, heavier and a whole lot stronger than you are—but out of pure frustration. except your movement only presses you tighter against where his thighs cage your hips, and you freeze. you think something pathetic leaves your lips, but you can't quite hear yourself over the mortification bubbling up in your chest.
"oh?" he notices, of course.you want to claw his stupid handsome face off. "don't tell me this is working for you."
"it's not," you snap. "you are so fucking full of yourself, geto."
"suguru," he corrects you. "say it properly. and by the look on your face right now i'd wager that you'd rather be the one full of me."
god you hate him sometimes. "embarrassing me isn't funny."
"it's a little funny."
"fuck you."
"you look like you'd love to," he lowers his hips a little, and for the first time in your life, you feel the weight of a rock-hard cock pressing against you. "tell me to stop and i will. we can go get food or something, forget this happened."
the switch in tone from teasing to gentle makes you smile, which makes keeping up the disgruntled act a lot harder. the thought of verbalising your need right now makes you nauseous, so you opt instead for a shake of your head.
"great," he nods, and slowly releases your wrists. "you can take that back whenever you want, just tell me and i'll back off."
"what are you..." you're cut off when suguru hands you your phone back with a scrunched up nose.
"read it," he says. "out loud. if you stop, i stop."
you're confused only until you check your screen and see that geto has opened up one of your most recently read pieces and scrolled down to a rather graphic scene of the main character being eaten out by her best friend. it's a little ironic, considering the state you're in, but you can't bring yourself to be embarrassed when your own best friend is kissing down your stomach and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your shorts.
he's going to go down on you? but he's hard, and for as much porn as you've read, most of it depicts the guy taking what he wants.
"aren't you going to... you know? fuck me?"
your shorts and panties are pulled down in one swift movement, and suguru buries his face in your thigh to stifle his laugh. his body shakes with the force of it, which makes you frown. your pussy is a few inches from his face, and he's laughing like the prospect of taking your virginity is funny.
"you couldn't take me," he smiles up at you. "now read."
suddenly self-conscious, you try clamp your thighs shut, just to (once again) find yourself pinned down by his strong arms. "this is weird," you whine. "you're my... i mean we... you know? friends. best friends ."
holding eye contact, suguru slowly lowers himself down to press a chaste kiss to your clit. it's not much contact, but it makes you jolt nonetheless. doesn't feel like how you had imagined it when you'd lay in bed late at night with your nose in a book and your hand between your legs. this is... better. feels right.
"still weird?" he asks, to which you nod without really meaning it. "weird like your porn on that phone?"
"suguru i swear to god if you don't—oh my god."
you forgive that man for all of the teasing he'd one as soon as he gets to work on you. flattening out his tongue against your pussy and tasting you for the first time has him already grinding against the mattress, and has you squeezing your eyes shut as you try to process this new realm of pleasure. you're glad he doesn't tease you for being so wet, but that he instead uses it to his advantage and starts making an even bigger mess of you.
his lips latch around your clit for only a few seconds. he hollows out your cheeks and you think you might die with how overwhelming the sensation is, but it's over all too soon. geto pulls back to do two things:
one, tie his hair out of his face, and two, tell you to start reading.
not wanting to miss out on these newfound pleasures of the flesh , you unlock your phone and start on a random spot on the screen, your voice a lot more shaky than you want it to be.
" he, uh... he ducks down and licks a stripe from entrance to clit, collecting... collecting her wetness on his tongue and falling in love with the taste of her enjoyments. "
suguru, suddenly good at following instructions, does as written and leads his tongue upwards. you moan at the contact, but notice suguru starting to pull away at your lack of reading, so you go on.
"she loves the way he feels. he kisses her, uh, sweet center, before continuing to use his tongue to toy with her."
you can feel suguru smiling against you. "sweet center?" he laughs, but continues his ministries nonetheless. you roll your eyes, this has been a lot better of a read when your brain was fogged with unsated need. longing for the man that is now between your legs.
"growing messy, his focus shifts to her clit. his tongue dances with the bud of nerves as he brings two fingers of his left hand, ring and all, and pushes them inside of her. curling upwards until she—"
"is that what you want?" suguru cuts you off.
"yeah, yes. i think. just go slow."
"keep reading."
you clear your throat as suguru starts tracing circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue. he looks a little silly doing that, you note as you glance down to enjoy the view for a moment, but god does it feel good.
"curling upwards until she's an ecstatic mess of fulfilled wants. he completes her, in both soul and now flesh. fills her with his fingers in preparation for his—oh god, suguru, right there."
you hadn't even noticed him pushing into you, you were that eager to feel more of him. his fingers curl up as described in your reading material and suddenly he's brushing over a spot you've never discovered on your own. it blurs your vision, sends your skin hot.
"can't.. can't read anymore," you whine, bucking your hips up in some masochistic need for more. anything bigger than this and you'd keel over, you think, but you'd take anything suguru was willing to give you. "gonna—"
he allows it. encourages it, even. quickens his pace on the fingers plunging in and out of you, and starts making out with your pussy like a drunken virgin would. it's good in a way that shouldn't be: messy and needy and you think perhaps that suguru is just as close to coming as you are.
your orgasm is intense. your back arching off the bed and your body trying hopelessly to get more of sugurus touch. you think you moan his name, though it could be a babbled string of 'i love you's that you'll refuse to acknowledge later on in hopes that giving you head wasn't enough to ruin your friendship.
suguru moans loudly against your pussy as he tastes your release, the vibrations no help for your sensitivity, but his hips are stuttering against the mattress and you can tell even through your haze that you've made the cocky idiot cum in his pants.
serves him right.
and because the two of you are friends before you are... whatever this is, the both of you are falling into a fit of laughter upon your comedowns. suguru's lips glisten and your chest heaves with each breath you take, and he's climbing up the bed to press a kiss to your cheek.
"better than reading about it?" he asks.
"nope," you grin, which earns you a mean look that soon gives way to another laugh from him. "you could do it again some time if you wanted, though."
"please. i want to find out what skills you've picked up reading all of that weird shit." he pulls you into his arms and, despite being a little sweaty, you find yourself melting comfortably into his embrace.
"you couldn't keep up with me," you sing-song.
"yeah? try me."
"ever heard of male sounding? whip it out, sugu."
"ha. shut the fuck up."
this is a repost from my old account. still me tho i did not #steal this this is a repost from my old account. still me tho i did not #steal this
part two here bestfriend!geto masterlist here
Dragon age origins is like…. You’re nineteen, new in town, and it’s your second day at pizza hut. You don’t even know how to work the register yet and you just watched your manager get carted off by the paramedics. You have no contact info for him, his next of kin, or corporate. The only other employee is the guy who’s been here for two weeks and is a bit of a doofus, and neither of you really know what you’re supposed to do now. You both desperately need this job though, and the doofus at least has a drivers license and *kiiinda* knows how to use the oven so you just. Shrug, and start taking orders and making pizzas and praying to god that the bills are on autopay.
And weirdly enough you’re really good at this: making pizzas and dealing with shitty customers and breaking up fights in the parking lot and pretending to be Duncan’s cousin on the phone so the utility company doesn’t cut off the power. But running a store is a lot of work for two dumb kids, so slowly you start accumulating a bunch of competent weirdos to help out, like the nun who left her convent because god told her to help you make pizzas, and the elderly school teacher who just survived a mass shooting, and the guy the papa johns down the street hired to run you over. And really there’s no way any of this should be working as well as it is - you’re absolutely committing fraud of some kind here - but you’ve managed to dodge the landlord every time he’s stopped by, and the health inspector never shows up to tell you to stop letting your dog hang out behind the counter and you’re all still kinda looking at each other and asking ‘are we allowed to just do this?’ before shrugging again and continuing to make pizzas, until somehow, through a series of unlikely technicalities, your doofus coworker ends up on the ballot for governor.
And after like five months of this the regional manager wanders in out of nowhere and you’re sure he’s about to chew your ass out for this mess, but it turns out he’s pretty chill and honestly kind of impressed with how you managed to keep the place up and running all on your own. So now you’re all thinking ‘thank god, there’s someone here who actually knows how to run a Pizza Hut’ only for him to get hit by a car two days later on the night of the Super Bowl.
Meet…crash?
✶⋆.˚ In which you hit a vigilante with your car
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Word count | 671
Tags: Fluff, Meet cute, accidental injury
Having a car in Gotham was a blessing—no late-night walks, no muggers, and no leering men catcalling you. It was a wonder how much more bearable the crime-ridden city was when you had a car.
Yet, even from inside your glorious vehicle, disaster still managed to strike you in the form of a man.
Or was it the other way around?
Either way, your hands gripped the steering wheel, sweaty and shaky as you stared up ahead with wide eyes.
All you saw was a blur of red before your foot slammed on the brake a second too late. There was a big thump while the car shuddered with you.
With a muffled, hysterical cry, you wrenched open the door and stumbled out.
“Fucking hell,” you whispered, brows furrowed.
On the road was a groaning man in red. Your heart skipped a beat. At least the guy was still alive. Fear vibrated through you, your mind replaying the moment over and over.
You made your way closer to him, as if he were some rabid animal and not a helpless man you’d hit with your car.
The closer you got, the more you could make out the form of Red Hood.
You cursed and wondered if you should run. What if he tried to kill you for fracturing an important bone or—
Your thoughts were cut off by his strained voice.
“You gonna help or stare at me?”
You steadied yourself and forced your mouth to work.
“I—shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you running. Obviously I didn’t do this on purpose—fuck.” You said it as calmly as possible, which sounded more like you were being held at gunpoint.
He didn’t move a muscle, just stared at you like you were the insane one. His helmet had been removed, his jaw was clenched, and his raven hair was a mess. Oh. He was one of those people who looked hot while frustrated.
You swallowed and crouched down, awkwardly trying to help him up. You weren’t much help with lifting a six-foot-something man.
“I’m so sorry,” you said again while the vigilante leaned on your smaller form.
“It’s fine,” he grunted.
“It’s not. I mean, you could have died.”
He snorted as you helped him onto the sidewalk where he stiffly sat, not showing any signs of major injuries. You could barely read the man, and the mask covering his eyes didn’t help.
“Eh, been there, done that,” he replied, watching you intently like he was enraptured by the person who got him temporarily incapacitated.
You gave him a weird look, your face screwing up. You opened your mouth to ask what that meant but decided against it. Was it rude to ask people about their death? You assumed it was.
“Okay…” You trailed off. He wasn’t saying much and you didn’t know what to do. So, you rummaged through the pocket of your jeans and pulled out a lollipop. You winced—it was all you had.
You held it out to Red Hood with a hopeful look in your eye.
“A peace offering,” you added when he didn’t move, white lenses fixed on your face rather than your offering.
He sighed, a white strand of his hair falling across his forehead, and you wanted to brush it away.
You willed yourself to stay still—you would not embarrass yourself. But the way he was looking at you made you feel like it was too late for that.
“I already said it was okay, sweetheart.” His voice was low and rough.
Your mind decided to focus on the last word, zoning in on the way he said it. You numbly pushed the candy closer to his face.
A reluctant half-smile formed on his face, gloved fingers brushing yours as he took the candy from you, lingering a second too long to chase the warmth.
You cleared your throat.
“Next time, you should look both ways before crossing,” you told him.
His half-smile deepened.
“And deny myself the pleasure of meeting you again?”
Masterlist
some trans anders ,, if u care
♢ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ♢
ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ, ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ, ᴋɪʙᴀ, ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ, ɴᴇᴊɪ & ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ
a/n: sooo my first headcanons yeiih!! this just came flowing out of me while watching boruto tbh because i'm delusional lmao,,,, anyway, very self indulgent as always :) ignore typos pls i cant spell aaaand enjoy xx
likes & reblogs appreciated <3
warnings: none! SFW :) not proofread
masterlist
♢ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ♢
✿sUCH a messy sleeper
❀he'd toss and turn throughout the whole night, ending up somewhere completely different than where he fell asleep on the bed
❀matching pyjama sets !!!
✿especially seasonal ones, he adores them
✿BLANKET HOGGER !!!
❀but not on purpose really, he just pulls it with him due to all his movements
✿u always wake up with it either on the floor or him laying atop of it
❀sometimes he hits u with his elbow or his feet, but pls don't tell him he WILL cry
✿just push him away, boy will not wake up under any circumstances
❀the both of u alWAYS cuddle when falling asleep
✿the usual position is with his arms around your waist, legs thrown over ur own and his face resting next to ur shoulder
❀for that exact reason he's a BIG SPOON !!
❀so so quick to fall asleep, and wakes up after u as well
✿but not at all groggy in the morning !! he's energetic from the second he opens his eyes and sees u preparing breakfast
❀overall just the softest boyfriend ever
♢ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ ᴜᴄʜɪʜᴀ♢
❀now thIS dude sleeps like a corpse
✿he's not particularly prone on cuddling u, but he fairly enjoys having ur head on his chest and feeling ur fingertips draw circles against his skin
❀he'd never admit it tho obviously
✿mostly wears a black lose t-shirt and some short sweats or sumn
❀just comfortable all around
✿i'm a firm believer in the back position
❀laying flat on the mattress, one arm either around u, or both resting on his belly
✿light sleeper, if i may
❀takes him pretty long to fall asleep as well, but counting ur breath usually calms him and makes it easier
✿u make everything easier for him actually
❀doesn't really care about a blanket, it all really depends on what u prefer while sleeping
✿often awoken by nightmares, but won't ever wake u up or tell u the next day because he thinks it's embarrassing
❀refuses to leave the bed in the morning, but isn't moody at all just very quiet
✿always helps u make breakfast and makes the bed without having to ask him to
❀overall just a calm lover
♢ᴋɪʙᴀ ɪɴᴜᴢᴜᴋᴀ♢
❀without a doubt, a snorer
✿like IM SORRY LADIES but c'mon
❀but not annoyingly loud, just breathy lil snores
✿the problem with it is: he won't move an INCH away from u ever, he's all up in ur business while sleeping
❀doesn't matter how, he's always got to feel u next to him somehow
✿i take him as a sleep talker too, mumbling incoherent words against your neck which only make u laugh tbh
❀akamaru's got his own bed next to the two of u, but some nights he crawls in between ur bodies, practically suffocating u
✿you really don't mind on colder nights, but in summer kiba makes him get off, due to having such a high body temperature already and he doesn't want u to complain even more
❀wore a shirt and pants at the beginning of ur relationship
✿but now??? u'd have to FORCE him to wear anything more than boxers
❀hates when u don't want to cuddle :(( might as well kill him fr
✿why need a blanket when he has you??
❀doesn't leave the bed AT ALL in the morning, u literally have to grab him by the feet and drag him out of it
✿he's a sweetheart, really
♢ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ ɴᴀʀᴀ♢
❀dude HATES cuddling at the beginning of ur relationship, me thinks
✿but fear not, it just takes a bit of convincing from ur side and he's in on it
❀but it's subtle touches really, like holding his hand or having ur feet intertwined
✿if u've had a bad day, he'd definitely play with your hair to make u fall asleep, he's not a diCK
❀grey sweats all the way !!!!!
✿rarely ever wears a shirt, except for when it's cold of course
❀he seems much more like a light sleeper than not, but he's so grouchy when something wakes him up it's a drag really
✿has to be completely dark and quiet in his room or he won't be able to close one eye
❀always sleeps on the side closest to the door
✿big on talking about both ur days at night because he's a very private person and loves spending time with u ALONE
❀deep talk at 2am?? u can bet on it
✿forehead kisses!!! once u wake up and neither of u want to get up and start ur day
❀he's such an attentive lover in general, i'm actually going insane
♢ɴᴇᴊɪ ʜʏᴜɢᴀ♢
❀oh my lovely boy
✿i feel like he wouldn't move a MUSCLE while sleeping
❀sometimes you have to poke him to make sure he's still alive
✿AHEM
❀a light sleeper foshou
✿also ????
❀he would 100% wait for u to fall asleep first
✿would always run his fingertips over your back to make you tired
❀unfortunately, the closest to cuddling u two do, is ur head on his chest
✿he gets sweaty quickly, so he'll often sleep without a shirt (which u don't complain about obviously) and that's the reason why he doesn't necessarily NEED body contact (in this situation only!!)
❀but HUGE PLUS he'll sweet talk you to sleep almost every night
✿asking about ur day from begin to end
❀he wants to know it ALL
✿in general, he's really big on making you as comfortable as possible before bed
❀would even wait till the morning to go pee because you look so peaceful laying on his chest
✿don't mind him watching u he just thinks ur so pretty ok
❀u wake up to the smell of coffee almost every morning
✿overall, as we been knew, the gentlest gentlemen to perhaps ever gentleman goodbye
♢ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ ʜᴀᴛᴀᴋᴇ♢
❀poor baby's the king of light sleepers
✿always ready to jump into battle and protect u if he has to, even if u convince him that ur safe and nothing's going to happen :(
❀casually wears a black tanktop and some sweats, mask and shinobi headband easily reachable on the bedside table at his right side
✿definitely enjoys u playing with his hair too much
❀he prefers to fall asleep with his head either on your chest or tugged just under your chin so he can hear you breathe and ur heart beat
✿he's so tragic oh my days
❀anYWAY light snores but only when he's REALLY gone and u rarely ever see him in this state so,,,,,
✿loves listening to ur stories before falling asleep
❀legs & arms intertwined and allathat
✿you will never lay in bed without him picking up one of his books at least ONCE
❀it really calms him down u know
✿but start a conversation with him, and he's all urs, book long forgotten next to his mask and headband.
❀always wakes up earlier than u, preparing breakfast with said book between his fingers
✿(he swears he'll close it once ur awake tho)
❀((he does))
a/n: AHEM i hope u liked it ???? pls tell me ??? AAAA i will see u beans next time bye bye xx
devider by @enchanthings
