izzy's playlists!
roma★
NASA
YOU ARE THE REASON
shark vs the universe
Discoholic 🪩
h
Origami Around
tumblr dot com
Today's Document
🪼
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Monterey Bay Aquarium
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d e v o n
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sheepfilms
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i don't do bad sauce passes
oozey mess
seen from Singapore
seen from Indonesia
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seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia
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@lun3z
✰ 𝖉𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖊, 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊, 𝖒𝖞 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑✰
𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖞𝖆’ 𝖉𝖔𝖎𝖓, 𝖒𝖞 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖘?
➮ 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎
➮ 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 (𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢)
➮ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
➮ 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎
⊹𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝⊹
✎ 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞! 𝚒 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝!
I can't be the only one who thinks this is better than those naked mods. He's hot because of that goddamn shirt istg
“Caught You Boy.”
MDNI. Puppy Hybrid! Leon was clingy, and hated being away from you. While you were showering, he decided he’d like to join you!
tags: fem reader, switch! leon, breeding kink, shower p in v, knotting, dirty talking, mentions of lactation kink.
The thing about Leon is that he was clingy. You could’ve sworn he had separation anxiety, or something that made him want to be up under you all the time. He would crawl into your bed, (even though he had his own.) Or lay in your lap while you tried to relax. At dinner, he’d be at your feet rather than the table.
One evening when you thought you were having some alone time in the shower, Leon would be entertaining himself one way or another while you bathed. On that particular day, he noticed you didn’t lock the door—and took advantage of that.
katsuki Bakugo doesn't beg....but currently he is!
The rain is drumming a relentless, heavy beat against the window of his dorm room, but the only sound filling the space between you two is the ragged edge of his breathing.
Katsuki Bakugo doesn't beg. He commands. He demands. He takes what he wants by sheer force of will and explosive talent. Everyone knows this. You know this.
Which is exactly why the sight of him right now is completely short-circuiting your brain.
He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched forward, broad back curved in a rare show of defeat. His hands usually lethal, sparking, and steady are gripping his own knees so tightly his knuckles are stark white. He isn't looking at you. He’s staring at the floorboards, his ash-blonde hair falling forward to shadow his face.
"Just… shut up for a second and listen," he rasps. His voice is lower than usual, stripped of its normal explosive volume, leaving behind something raw and dangerously scraped thin.
"Katsuki, I should go," you say softly, taking a half-step back toward the door. You’re exhausted from the circular arguments, the miscommunications, the walls he keeps building up just to blast away.
He flinches. The movement is so fast, so uncharacteristic, it makes you freeze.
"I said listen," he snaps, but the usual venom isn't there. It’s panicked. His head snaps up, and when his crimson eyes lock onto yours, your breath hitches. They’re bloodshot, fierce, and terrifyingly glossy.
He shifts off the bed, his heavy boots hitting the floor, but he doesn't bridge the gap to crowd your space like he usually does. Instead, he drops his weight onto his knees right there on the floor. It’s not a clean, submissive kneel—it’s a desperate, heavy collapse. He hooks his fingers into the fabric of your jeans, his grip white-hot even through the denim.
"Don't walk out that fucking door," he breathes.
You stare down at him, completely paralyzed. The top hero prospect of UA, the guy who swore he'd surpass All Might, is grounded at your feet, looking up at you through his bangs.
"Katsuki… get up. What are you doing?"
"No." He buries his forehead against your knee, his shoulders trembling. It’s a microscopic movement, but to you, it feels like an earthquake. "If I get up, you’re gonna leave. You’ve got that look in your eyes. The one where you’ve already decided I’m too much of a monster to deal with."
"That's not—"
"I’m not finished!" he barks, a flash of his usual fire sparking, but it dies out instantly, swallowed by the sheer desperation in his voice. His hands slide up to your waist, clutching at your shirt, pulling you just an inch closer.
"I know I’m a loud, short-tempered bastard. I know I don't say the right shit. I know I ruin everything I touch because all I know how to do is blast it to pieces. But don't do this. Don't just give up on me."
He takes a sharp, shuddering breath against your clothes.
"I'll be quieter. I'll… I'll think before I opening my fucking mouth. Just tell me what you want me to do to make you stay, and I’ll do it. Anything.
Just don't leave me behind."
He’s never said those words to anyone. Don't leave me behind. It’s his ultimate fear, wrapped up in a confession he’d probably kill anyone else for hearing.
Slowly, you sink to your knees too, matching his level. The moment your knees hit the floor, Katsuki's hands fly to your face. His palms are warm, rough with calluses, and trembling as they cup your cheeks. He hovers close, his breath hot against your lips, completely unraveled.
"Look at me," he whispers, his voice cracking on the edge of a sob he refuses to let fall. "Please. Just look at me."
The word please tastes like ash in his mouth, but he swallows his pride anyway, offering it up to you like a sacrifice. His eyes are searching yours, pleading for a savior, begging you to tell him that his explosive, chaotic soul hasn't finally driven away the only thing he actually cares about keeping.
fucking katsuki with a strap on
long distance relationship - suguru g. 18+ MDNI!!!
“i missed you so fucking much, suguru,” you throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck. “gosh, it feels like it’s been centuries.”
“oh baby, i’ve missed you too,” he coos, pressing his lips to your hair. one of his arms envelop you, the other still holding the heavy duffel bag around his shoulder. “can i put down my stuff? or are you going to cling to me like a baby monkey?”
you whine something unintelligible into his skin, making him laugh. oh, how he’d missed you. rubbing your back in soothing circles with his thumb, he lowers his head closer to your ear. “just let me take my coat off and i’m all yours, okay? i’ll unpack later.”
you unlink your arms and take a step back, watching suguru shed his long coat, revealing a navy blue turtleneck sweater and black slacks. the apartment finally feels right with him filling the space again, carrying that familiar, comforting scent that you associate with home.
just a little longer of this, you remind yourself, and the next plane will be a one-way ticket.
“hey, something’s wrong?” suguru’s honeyed voice pulls you back from your thoughts, and you shake your head. “not at all. you’re here, how could anything be wrong?”
he smiles, then open his arms for you to throw yourself into them again, and he can finally hold you right. every inch of you molding perfectly to every inch of him, as if it was exactly where you belonged, all along. you breathe in the scent of his cologne, face smushed into his chest like you needed it to breathe.
his long fingers map out the outline of your waist, soothing in their trail, committing everything to memory even if he knows you better than he knows himself. “missed you so much, pretty girl,” suguru peppers light kisses over the crown of your head. “have you been good while i was gone?”
you look up at him with a grin. “mhm!” but once you meet his face, half-lidded eyes and the corner of his mouth curled up slightly with that smile. “yeah?” he hums. “want to show me?”
apparently your bedroom was too far for suguru’s liking, the couch a much more appropriate solution to have your pretty body folded in two, knees grazing just shy of your ears like he instructed your to hold them. his nose is pressing against your clit, puffy and sensitive after your orgasm, but his tongue is still deep in your hole, drawing out the lewdest squelches.
“s-suguuuu—” you sob, choking on your own breaths. “fuck, ngh— ‘s too much!” you wish you could card your fingers through his silky, raven hair, but he keeps it tied in a messy ponytail to keep it out of his face, the whole lower half glistening with your slick.
and you wouldn’t be able to move your hands even if you wanted, keeping them tightly wrapped around the underside of your knees. your hamstrings have been screaming in protest, but the way suguru’s greedy tongue is lapping at your soppy cunt overrides the pain.
“suguru,” you plead again, a salty tear trailing down your parted lips. “p-please…wan’ your cock now, please—”
“oh really?” he purrs, finally withdrawing, big hands are still cupping the globes of your ass. “you know i just wanted to make sure my pretty girl was ready to take me properly.”
your clothes - along with his - lie in a messy puddle on the floor, but suguru still has his boxers on, stretching across his throbbing erection when he stands back up on his feet. you’ll never get tired of this sight— all chiselled muscles, the fine work of art of some power up above, no doubt.
“—because there’s something i’ve been meaning to keep as a surprise, so i hope you’ll be able to forgive me,” his words pull you away from your daydreaming once more, brows furrowing in a questioning look. you finally relax your legs a bit, shifting from your cramped position.
“a surprise?” you tilt your head, eyes following suguru’s descending hand, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers before he tugs them down. “it’s…it’s still a bit sensitive, i honestly don’t know why i listened to satoru’s dumb idea but i thought—”
”oh. my. god.”
your jaw is positively unhinged, eyes wide and focused on the metal bars protruding from underneath the skin of the underside of suguru’s cock.
“you got a fucking jacob’s ladder!?”
his cheeks turn a pretty shade of dark pink, suddenly feeling too self-aware and flustered. “is it…is it bad? i didn’t really have any feedback on it since i got it other than watching myself in the mirror, it’s not like i was going to snap pictures and send them to satoru.”
“let’s be real, he would’ve done it,” you snort. suguru chuckles, “yeah, he would’ve.”
you sit up, face only inches away from his pierced shaft. “did it hurt when you got it?” you ask, fingers coming up but not quite touching just yet. “a bit…” he pauses. “a lot. but it’s fine now, it healed pretty well, you can touch it.”
your hand tentatively wraps around the base of suguru’s cock, the hiss he draws in between clenched teeth causing a wave of heat to rush deep in your belly. you angle it forwards, then lean over to press the lightest kiss to each piercing, smiling when he starts huffing n’ puffing.
“baby…” he whispers, hips jerking involuntarily, body craving more of your touch. your tongue rolls out, licking a looong stripe along his pretty flushed tip, collecting a salty bead of pre. your eyes gleam with something feral when you look up.
“i want it inside, suguru.”
he doesn’t waste a moment, shedding his boxers in record time before he’s manhandling you on all fours. the cushions force your back into an almost painful arch, cheek pressed into the leather of the backrest. you hear suguru spit once— twice, the first to coat his tip, the second right in your hole, still shiny from your earlier release.
“i have no idea how this might feel for either of us, so tell me if it hurts or if it’s uncomfortable, okay pretty? fuck…so pretty and wet for me.”
your answer slurs into a moan when the fat head of his cock presses against your cunt, velvety walls fluttering with hunger, already trying to suck him in. “oh fuck, suguru!” your hips move backwards, needing him to stuff you full, but he stops you with a large palm smacking! down on your ass.
“aht, aht,” he warns. “patience, my love. pussy’s been missing her sugu this much?”
but you can tell he’s holding back as well, allowing himself slow half-thrusts, easing into your drooling cunt little by little. you bite into your bottom lip with a whine, then comes the stretch.
”fuck!” you’re moaning out unanimously, the first pierced portion of his length slipping in. “did i hurt you?” he manages to ask. “n-no,” you shake your head. “feels a bit weird…g-good weird, though. does it hurt for you?”
“never felt…fucking…better.”
each word is followed by more of his cock filling you up until he’s fully sheathed inside. your walls clench against the textured ridges. “o-oh my god, suguru,” you gasp. “please fuck me or i think i’ll go insane.”
“yes ma’am,” he chuckles, both hands gripping your hips before he goes all in, setting a punishing pace. your hands hold on for dear life to the backrest of the couch, your shrills muffled by the thick leather, and you’re sure the crescent indents aren’t going to leave anytime soon.
the slap of skin against skin is lewd, your pussy gushing with each thrust and forming a frothy ring around the base of suguru’s cock. “so loud, baby…” he stutters between groans, hunching over until his chest is almost flush against your arched back. “don’t want the neighbors to make a noise complaint, now do we?”
one of his hands leave your hips, and soon two of his thick digits are filling your mouth. your lips close and start sucking shamelessly, coating his fingers in copious amounts of spit. “shit, haah— dirty girl,” suguru grunts, head falling on top of yours as he keeps drilling into you.
the piercings have made him way more sensitive, the coil of his orgasm dangerously tight. he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by cumming too soon, but when you’re so deliciously snug around him he can only resist for so long. “forgive me, my love, but i think i’m gonna—”
“please, please suguru!” you cry out, spluttering around his fingers. “please cum inside, i’m close too!”
you’ll be the death of him, he’s sure.
his body start convulsing, a loud groan of your name announcing his release, spurts of thick, white seed spilling deep inside, coating your gummy walls. you topple over alongside him, milking every last drop.
once you both manage to come back to your senses, suguru picks you up and walks you to the bathroom to draw a warm bath. when you’re both submerged in the bubbly water, he holds you tight to his chest, peppering the sides of your neck and shoulders with kisses as you update each other on your lives.
“you know, that was a very pleasant surprise. you should do it more often,” you say playfully, looking over your shoulder as he dutifully washes your hair. he mirrors your grin. “i’ll keep that in mind.”
now he’s worried the engagement ring in his suitcase will be anticlimactic.
┊┊a/n. i have no idea how i keep ending up with almost 2k words every time i want to write a quick drabble but oh well
(ʚᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈).ೃ࿔* ┊thinking about nanami's hands..
your husband had many things about him that you found incredibly attractive. no matter how long you two have been together, you can never seem to get used to it. it's the way his shoulders stretched, broad and firm. it's the way his body always looks as if it's trying to break free from his clothes, no matter what he wears. it's the warm baritone way his voice comes out when he speaks, and how it slightly softens when he speaks to you.
you don't think you could list everything you find attractive about your husband, even if you had all the time in the world. but one thing always stuck out to you in particular.
his hands.
big and calloused and so, so sexy. you could stare at them for hours, and you have.
you came home later than usual. by this time you're normally there waiting to greet nanami when he returns from work, but today you got a little too sidetracked shopping with your friends and you came home to see him already sat on the couch.
legs spread, tie loosened, head thrown back, exhausted, sexy. just from looking at him you could tell he had a hard day. he doesn't notice you at first. you quietly put your things down near the door and walk over to him. you were so excited to show him all the new things you bought, but you had forgotten all about that once you saw him.
"...ken?" you broke through the silence, making yourself known. he sluggishly lifts his head to see you and his worn, irritated expression instantly softens. "my beautiful girl." his voice is low and he shifts in a way you know means he's telling you to come closer. you sit in his lap and for the first time that day, his body relaxes.
you stroke his hand sympathetically. your heart always tightens a little when you see him like this. "are you okay?" you ask. he doesn't answer your question and instead begins to stroke the side of your face and tuck your hair behind your ear. "you're so pretty," he hums appreciatively. he looks at you intently through his heavy lidded eyes, studying the way your expressions shift.
your face grows warm against his palm and you avoid his gaze. he lets out a breath which was more like a slight chuckle. he loves you like this, bashful and sweet. he decides he wants to see more.
he brushes his thumb over your lower lip and you instinctively shift in his lap. bad idea. you immediately feel him stiffen underneath you as he lets out a slight groan and grips your hip tight with his free hand. "fuck baby, don't do that." at this point you're no longer thinking clearly, you're not even sure if you've had a clear thought since you came home. all you can think about is the very sexy man in front of you, and the very sexy hands he has on you, and you begin to lose any self control you've ever had.
you shift in his lap more, and you both find yourselves in a steady rhythm. you're already soaked and he's already fully hard underneath you. you both can't look away from each other, the sounds of both of your breathing fills the room, too focused on the moment and on each other to speak.
but the longer he has his hands on you, the more your head spins. they're intoxicating, he's intoxicating, and before you can really even think it through, you hold the hand on your face and slip his index and middle finger into your mouth with a look of complete and utter desperation in your eyes.
he groans again, but it was different this time. it wasn't louder, per se, it was truer, animalistic. "fuck, good girl, sweetheart." his eyes are glued to the way your plush lips struggle to wrap around his big fingers. he attempts to push them further into your mouth and you let out a small gag. "cute," he thinks.
"relax your throat, baby... little more.. goooodd girl.. fuck." he continues to mumble more nonsensical things of that nature in between grunts and groans until your eyes begin to water and you're drooling over his fingers and down your own chin.
you look up at him and and attempt to say "please," but with the fingers in your mouth and the desire taking over your brain it came out more like a weak whine than anything else.
a split second later you find yourself thrown over nanami's shoulder and carried into your shared bedroom because despite your very vague request, nanami knew exactly what you wanted.
and he was going to give it to you.
my first post and my first time writing anything like this.. please be nice and kind advice is appreciated ♪( ´▽｀)
kisses,
kat
Tenya is reprimanding you for the umpteenth time this week.
You're in the agency hallway, just after the team meeting. He stands straight, arms crossed, his gaze stern behind his impeccable glasses.
"Your outfit isn't appropriate, Y/N," he says in a firm, clear voice, loud enough for the few colleagues still present to hear.
Your heart races. Three buttons of your white shirt are undone, revealing the lace of your bra. Your pencil skirt is riding up a little too high on your hips, and the thin black thong you're wearing is clearly visible against your skin.
You know perfectly well that he chose this outfit this morning, in the privacy of his apartment, whispering in your ear how much he wanted you to look "inappropriate" today.
You lift your chin, a small, provocative smile playing on your lips. "So what?" you reply in a light, almost mocking voice. “Are you going to punish me, Tenya?”
An awkward silence falls among the colleagues still lingering in the hallway. Some look away, uncomfortable. Tenya, however, remains outwardly impassive.
Only you and he know the truth: behind that rigid facade, he loves it. He loves to humiliate you publicly, to make you feel embarrassed in front of others, and he knows you love it just the same.
He takes a step closer, lowering his voice slightly so only you can hear him: “I could…”
Those two words, whispered softly, are enough to make you lose your composure. A liquid heat immediately spreads between your thighs. You can’t help but discreetly rub your legs together, seeking a little friction to soothe the rising excitement.
Tenya notices your gesture. A dark glint crosses his eyes. He leans in even closer, his voice low and dangerously calm: "Have you lost your tongue, baby?"
You swallow hard. Your face burns. In front of the others, you come across as the slightly rebellious employee who's getting reprimanded again by the strict Iida. But between you, that simple word, "baby," spoken so softly, so possessively, makes you instantly wet.
"I... um..." you stammer, your voice suddenly smaller, almost submissive.
Tenya gives a very slight smile, almost imperceptible to the others. He adjusts his glasses with a precise gesture, then continues in a louder voice: "I'll be expecting you in my office in five minutes. We'll sort this out properly."
"Yes, sir," you reply, looking at him and anticipating what will happen in his office.
˖ (🐋) mlist _
Tenya makes you squirt. 18+ mdni.
Tenya has you with your legs spread wide, his large hands firmly anchored on your hips to keep you in place. His fingers dig into your flesh with just enough force for you to feel his control.
His tongue explores every inch of your pussy with an almost desperate hunger. He licks your entire soaked slit with a slow, heavy stroke, then turns sharp and insistent, swirling rapidly around your swollen, hypersensitive clit before diving deep inside you, probing your inner walls.
“Tenya… I feel like I have to pee!” you suddenly blurt out in a trembling, panicked voice, your body wracked with shivers.
Tenya growls against your hot, wet flesh without stopping for even a second. The vibrations of his deep voice travel straight to your clit.
“Mhh… let it go, it’s a good sign,” he murmurs against you, his mouth full of your taste.
“Are you sure?? I really have to go, Tenya!” you moan, almost whining, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. A burning pressure building relentlessly in your lower belly.
He lifts his head slightly, chin and lips glistening with your juices, and thrusts two thick, long fingers into you in one go. He immediately curls them to massage your g-spot with perfect precision.
“I saw in a video that when that urgent need hits… it means you’re about to squirt,” he explains in his serious voice, even though his eyes are burning with pure lust behind his slightly fogged-up glasses.
You can’t help but let out a weak laugh despite your state, breathless. “You watch videos like that?”
“That’s not the point! Focus,” he replies in a firm tone, almost an order, before diving back between your legs with even more fervor.
His tongue attacks your clit with fast, circular movements while his thick fingers continue mercilessly massaging your G-spot. The pressure in your lower belly becomes enormous, burning, almost painful.
You writhe violently on the bed, grinding your soaked pussy against his face, your hips moving uncontrollably. “Ten-! Ahh ugh! It’s too much! I’m gonna… imgonna-”
Your orgasm hits you like a violent tidal wave. Your entire body tenses, your thighs clamping around Tenya’s head like a vice as a long, high-pitched cry escapes your throat. A powerful clear jet bursts out of you in several intense, successive waves.
You squirt abundantly, soaking his face, his chin, and a large part of the sheets under your ass. The pleasure is so strong that your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and your body is shaken by uncontrollable spasms for long seconds, wave after wave.
When the final tremors finally subside, you lie there completely breathless, body limp, trembling, and hypersensitive.
You look down and see the extent of the mess: the sheets are completely soaked beneath you. An intense wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you.
“Oh no… I soaked the sheets…” you murmur, red with shame, hiding your face in your hands.
But when you peek through your fingers, you see Tenya. His face is covered in your glistening juices. He looks… satisfied. Almost proud. His eyes shine with a possessive and admiring glint. You can’t help but burst out laughing despite your embarrassment.
Tenya lifts his head and laughs softly with you, a warm, rare laugh that vibrates through his chest. He slowly crawls back up your body, towering over you with his imposing, athletic frame. He kisses you tenderly, sliding his tongue into your mouth so you can taste your own sweet-salty flavor.
“You’re so beautiful when you squirt like that,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse. “Don’t be embarrassed. I personally loved every second of it.”
He pulls back slightly to look at you better. In one smooth motion, he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it off, revealing his muscular, perfectly sculpted chest glistening with your squirt from years of training.
Your gaze drifts lower… and you immediately notice the massive bulge straining violently against his pants. His dick is visibly rock hard, almost painfully so against the fabric. A large wet patch spreads across the front of his gray pants, betraying just how turned on he got from your orgasm and squirt.
You bite your lip, both embarrassed and terribly aroused by the sight. Tenya follows your gaze and smiles, a little embarrassed himself, but mostly proud and full of desire.
“See what you do to me?” he says, slowly running a hand over his cock through the fabric. “I’m completely soaked because of you.”
He places a knee on the bed and leans over you again, his gaze burning behind his glasses. “And I’m not done with you yet, baby.”
˖ (🐋) mlist _
ᣞ ᜓ᛫ ⋆♱ surfer boy kirishima
cw: smut, surferboy!kiri, praise, fingering, public sex, slightly nerdy kiri, biting, fluff, overstim, orgasm denial, cockwarming, slight somnophilia, cunnilingus, lmk if i missed anything >_<
a/n: finally home for the summer so I’ll have time to write again, send recs!!!
Surfer!Kirishima who’s always at the beach before sunrise, chasing waves with you on his mind. He’ll spend hours combing the shore afterward, pocketing smooth shells and pretty rocks he thinks you’ll like, already imagining the way your face will light up when he presses them into your palm later.
Surfer!Kirishima who tries to teach you how to ride his board but can’t stop laughing when you immediately tip over. “Baby, you’re supposed to stand on it, not wrestle it,” he teases, hauling you back up by the waist. He’s merciless about it, calling you his “little sea turtle” every time you wipe out, but he always kisses the salt off your lips afterward.
Surfer!Kirishima who pretends to hate it when you tease him about his sun-bleached ends, grumbling under his breath—until you’re carding your fingers through his hair for hours while he melts into your touch, eyes half-lidded and content.
Surfer!Kirishima who gets relentlessly teased by you for being a “shark boy.” You’ll poke at his sharp teeth and call him Jaws whenever he grins too wide, and he always retaliates by chasing you into the water, growling, “Keep talking and I’ll show you how much of a shark I can be.”
Surfer!Kirishima who gets so excited showing you the tide pools, pointing out every colorful fish and rambling about how great whites are actually “the biggest misunderstood sweethearts of the ocean.” His voice goes soft when he talks about them, like he’s trying to make you love them as much as he does.
Surfer!Kirishima who has your name written in small, neat letters on the bottom of his surfboard. He did it one night when he couldn’t sleep, carving it carefully near the tail. He never tells you, but every time he paddles out, he glances down and smiles to himself, like having your name there keeps you with him even when you’re not.
Surfer!Kirishima who pulls you onto his board at sunset, letting the two of you drift farther out while his fingers slip beneath your swimsuit. He works you open slow and deep, murmuring praise against your ear the whole time. “That’s it, sunshine… just like that. Such a good girl for me.” He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking and cumming around his fingers, then kisses your temple like you didn’t just fall apart in the middle of the ocean.
Surfer!Kirishima who grinds against you in the water when his friends are only a few feet away, voice low and teasing. “Quiet, baby. Don’t want them to hear how pretty you sound when I’m inside you, right?” His hand stays firm on your hip, keeping you close while he rocks into you beneath the surface.
Surfer!Kirishima who drags you back to his little beach house after a long day, too tired to do anything but strip you both down and slide into you from behind. He falls asleep like that, buried deep, one arm slung over your waist, the sound of the waves drifting in through the open windows.
Surfer!Kirishima who eats you out so slow and thorough that you’re half-asleep by the time you cum, the ocean breeze cooling your skin while he licks you through it. He loves the way you go boneless under his mouth, murmuring, “Love tasting you like this… all relaxed for me.”
Surfer!Kirishima who invites his friends over for a late-night swim but spends the whole time behind you in the water, two fingers buried deep while he whispers against your neck. “Don’t cum, baby… be good for me.” He sounds so sweet about it, but the second you break and cum anyway, he’s praising you in that low, rough voice. “Fuck—there you go. Couldn’t help yourself, huh? My needy girl.”
Surfer!Kirishima who has a habit of leaving bite marks all over your thighs. He loves spreading you open on the beach towel after a surf session, sinking his teeth into the soft skin just hard enough to leave pretty red crescents. He’ll soothe each mark with his tongue afterward, murmuring against your thighs, “Can’t help it, sunshine… you taste too good. Everyone’s gonna know you’re mine when they see these.”
Surfer!Kirishima who waits until the beach is empty at dusk before dragging his board higher up the sand. He lays you out on it, the wax still warm from the day, and fucks you slow and deep while the waves crash a few feet away. One of his hands stays wrapped around your throat, the other pinning your thigh open as he groans against your ear, “Fuck, you look so pretty like this… all spread out on my board.” He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking and crying out his name, the sound nearly drowned out by the ocean.
© sorenellebrair
My fyp knows me from the heart 😋
HEAR ME OUT ON TSUNDERE FOX BOY...........................but with Ino 👀👀
sukuna's voice was unfairly sexy. and when i say unfairly i mean it's really unfair to sound so hot when asking or saying something that should be normal. he doesn't really understand where you're coming from — but you swear his voice lowers anytime he's serious, with that sharp edge and yet trying to sound gentle at the same time.
his voice usually sounds the hottest when you're injured — doesn't really matter if it's because you fell on your own or someone else hurt you. when you're alone with him for no one else to see he sits you on the couch and knees infront of you — something he would never openly do infront of anyone but his wife — taking your injured ankle in his hand, analysing the severity of it while literally talking you through it — asking questions almost tenderly.
you're sitting there silent, appreciating the situation even while being hurt — it's not everyday he's so compassionate. the man inbetween your legs is gently touching the wound, thumb brushing where it looks the worst. and then like always, his voice dips deeper like he's more bothered — maybe even worried, about you being in pain than yourself "does it hurt here?" his fingers thighten just enough for you to feel the pressure, making you nod with a frown on your face.
"what about here? it hurts, yeah?" he's applying the same pressure and it stings way worse than the other point — you wince, leg flinching slightly at the feeling — it's not a obvious movement but he notices anyway. "mhmm i see. my poor wife. i will get uraume to tend to your injury. after you're done i excpect you to come find me and tell me how you're feeling."
there it is — his voice sounding strangely comforting for such a scary man — but there's nothing scary about the way he gets on his knees to tend to your injury, or his almost soft voice distracing you from the pain. and somehow, your cheeks getting warm from the intensity of it — the tone he's using usually reserved for the bedroom and yet — it has the same heat.
you just nod — barely listening to what he's actually saying — wanting nothing more for him to keep babying you like he always does no matter the seriousness of the injury. maybe you should start saying it hurts between your legs...
bf!sukuna comforting gf!reader
(pure fluff, comforting + i cried writing this)
The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside rain tapped lightly against the windows, streaking the glass with silver lines while the clock on the microwave blinked 2:13 AM in dull green numbers.
You sat curled on the kitchen floor in one of Sukuna’s hoodies, knees against your chest, staring blankly at nothing and still you hadn’t turned the lights on.
Hadn’t answered your phone.
Hadn’t moved for almost an hour.
And when the front door finally unlocked, you didn’t even look up.
Heavy footsteps paused immediately.
Then—
“Baby?”
His voice changed instantly.
Not the rough, cocky tone he used with everyone else. Soft. Careful. Like he was approaching something fragile.
Sukuna dropped his gym bag by the door and crossed the apartment fast, crouching in front of you.
“Hey,” he murmured. “What’re you doin’ down here in the dark?”
You shrugged weakly.
He looked at your face for a long moment, red eyes scanning every little thing—the exhaustion under your eyes, the untouched tea beside you gone cold, the way your fingers trembled inside his sleeves.
And his entire expression softened.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
The nickname nearly broke you.
Your lips pressed together hard as tears burned suddenly behind your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered automatically.
His brows pulled together immediately. “Why the hell are you apologizing?”
“I dunno… I just—” Your voice cracked. “I can’t stop feeling like this.”
Sukuna exhaled slowly through his nose, like he was physically forcing himself to stay gentle.
Then he reached out carefully, sliding both hands under your arms.
“C’mere.”
You resisted weakly. “Kuna, I’m fine—”
“No, you’re not.” His voice stayed soft anyway. “And that’s okay.”
Before you could protest again, he lifted you effortlessly into his lap and sat against the kitchen cabinets with you tucked against his chest.
Warm and safe.
One large hand rubbed slowly up and down your back.
“Have you eaten today?”
“…No.” A tiny shake of your head.
He sighed quietly and pressed his lips to your temple.
You hated how pathetic you felt. Hated how dependent this moment made you seem.
“I’m ruining your night,” you mumbled.
That made him pull back immediately.
His hand came up to cradle your jaw firmly, forcing you to look at him.
“Don’t say shit like that.”
“But—”
“You think I care about anything else when you’re hurting?”
Your throat tightened.
Sukuna wasn’t good at pretty speeches. He wasn’t poetic. Wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things.
But he loved hard.
Completely.
“You don’t gotta pretend around me,” he said quietly. “If getting through the day is hard right now, then it’s hard. Doesn’t make you annoying.”
A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.
He wiped it away with his thumb instantly.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
And there was nothing cruel in his face. Nothing impatient.
Just worry.
“You stay alive long enough for me to love you through this, aight?”
That did break you.
A sob escaped your chest before you could hide it, and Sukuna immediately pulled you fully against him, wrapping his arms around you tightly.
“I got you,” he whispered into your hair. “I got you, baby.”
No rushing.
Just his warm hands rubbing your back, fingers threading through your hair, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.
Eventually, when your breathing calmed a little, he shifted enough to stand—still carrying you.
“Kuna—”
“Nope. You’re not walking.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you.
“There she is,” he murmured with a faint smile.
He carried you to the couch, wrapped you in blankets, then disappeared briefly into the kitchen.
You heard cabinets opening.
The microwave humming.
A minute later he returned with instant ramen, cut fruit, and water balanced carefully in his tattooed hands.
“You’re gonna eat a little,” he said. “And then I’m putting on that stupid baking show you like.”
“You hate that show.”
“Yeah,” he said flatly, handing you the bowl. “But you smile at the old lady with the cupcakes, so now I’m emotionally attached to Brenda.”
You laughed again—small and watery.
Sukuna pretended not to notice the way your hands shook when you reached for the chopsticks.
Not because he didn’t care.
Because he knew you hated being watched when things got bad.
So instead, he leaned back into the couch beside you, one arm stretched across the cushions behind your head while the baking show played quietly on the TV.
Some overly cheerful woman was crying over sponge cake.
You sniffled. “She dropped it for like… three seconds. Why’s she acting like someone died?”
“She’s weak,” Sukuna said immediately.
A tiny smile tugged at your mouth.
There it is.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Sukuna always noticed.
You managed a few bites before your appetite disappeared again, and when you started absentmindedly stirring the noodles instead of eating, his eyes flicked over.
“That all you can do?”
You nodded guiltily.
“Okay.”
No disappointment.
He took the bowl from your hands and set it aside before tugging you closer until your legs rested over his lap.
Sukuna’s fingers kept tracing slow patterns against your calf through the blanket.
Your head eventually tipped against his shoulder, exhaustion dragging at you now that the worst of the crying had passed.
Quietly, you whispered, “Do you ever get tired of me?”
The room seemed to still.
Sukuna looked down at you slowly.
“Tired of you?”
You instantly regretted saying it.
“It’s stupid, forget it—”
“No.” His hand slid up to the back of your neck gently. Don’t ask me something and then take it back.”
Your chest tightened.
He studied your face for a second before speaking.
“I get tired of the way you talk about yourself.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
“I get tired of seeing you hurt,” he continued quietly. “I get tired of watching you apologize for existing.” His thumb brushed your skin softly. “But you?” He shook his head once. “Never.”
The sincerity in his voice hurt worse than anything else.
Because part of you still didn’t understand how someone like him could say things like that and mean them.
“I’m hard to love,” you whispered.
Sukuna actually frowned.
Like the statement irritated him.
“Says who?”
“…Me.”
“Well, your brain’s a liar sometimes.”
You stared at him.
And he looked so genuinely certain.
Like loving you was the easiest thing he’d ever done.
“You know what you do when I come home?” he asked suddenly.
You blinked. “What?”
“You peek through the blinds when you hear my bike outside.”
Heat crept into your face immediately. “I do not.”
“You do,” he said smugly. “Every damn time.”
“That’s creepy. Why are you watching me watch you?”
“Because you’re cute.”
You groaned softly and hid your face against his shoulder.
He chuckled under his breath, deep and warm, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“And every morning,” he continued, quieter now, “you make coffee and forget your own cup because you’re busy making mine exactly how I like it.”
Your throat tightened again.
“And when you think I’m asleep, you fix the blanket on me.” Another kiss against your forehead. “You remember what days are hard for me without me saying anything. You leave little notes in my lunch even though your handwriting sucks.”
A weak offended noise left you.
“There she is again,” he murmured softly, smiling.
Then his expression gentled.
“So don’t sit here and tell me you’re hard to love.”
Your eyes burned all over again.
Sukuna noticed immediately and sighed dramatically.
“Ah, shit. C’mere.”
He pulled you fully into his chest before the tears could fall again, wrapping both arms around you and laying back against the couch with you on top of him.
You listened to his heartbeat while his hand stroked slowly through your hair.
Steady.
Patient.
Safe.
After a long silence, you mumbled against his shirt, “You’re too good to me.”
“Nah,” he said easily. “Just good to the right person.”
And for the first time in weeks— the heaviness in your chest didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.
By the third episode of the baking show, you were practically glued to him.
Not that Sukuna seemed to mind.
One of your legs was tangled with his, your face buried in his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his waist beneath his hoodie like you were afraid he might disappear if you let go for even a second.
Every time he shifted even slightly, your grip tightened again.
He noticed.
But instead of teasing you immediately, he just rested his chin on top of your head and kept rubbing slow circles into your back.
“Tired?” he murmured.
You shook your head against him.
(what a lie)
He could feel it in the way your body melted heavier into his every minute.
Still, you clung tighter.
Sukuna glanced down finally, amused warmth flickering in his eyes.
“You tryin’ to crawl inside my ribcage or what?”
“Maybe.”
Your voice came out muffled against his throat.
A quiet laugh rumbled in his chest.
“Dramatic.”
But his arms wrapped around you even tighter anyway.
You inhaled slowly, comforted by everything about him—the smell of his cologne and rain, the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
It made your chest ache.
Because lately everything in your mind felt exhausting and heavy and loud— except him.
With him, things went quiet.
“You’re comfy,” you mumbled sleepily.
“I better be. You use me as a damn weighted blanket every day.”
“…You love it.”
“I tolerate it.”
You lifted your head just enough to squint at him.
He was already smirking.
Liar.
Your expression softened before you could stop it.
God, you loved him.
Loved him so much it scared you sometimes.
Sukuna noticed the look immediately.
His brows lifted slightly. “What?”
“Nothin’.”
“Bullshit.”
You hid your face again.
He snorted softly. “Baby.”
One hand slid under your jaw, gently forcing your face back up toward him.
His expression shifted the second he really looked at you.
Not teasing anymore.
Just soft.
“What’s goin’ on in that head?”
You stared at him for a second too long before the words slipped out quietly.
“I really love you.”
The room went still.
Not awkward.
Just full.
Heavy with something warm and overwhelming.
Sukuna’s entire face softened in a way almost nobody else ever got to see.
His thumb brushed slowly over your cheek.
“Yeah?” he murmured.
You nodded, eyes already getting shiny again from how intensely you felt everything tonight.
“So much,” you whispered. “Like… too much.”
A tiny crease appeared between his brows immediately.
“There’s no such thing.”
Before you could respond, he leaned down and kissed you.
Slow. Careful.
You melted instantly, hands grabbing the front of his shirt while he held your face so gently it made your chest hurt.
When he pulled back, he stayed close enough for his forehead to rest against yours.
“I love you more than anything,” he said quietly.
And Sukuna almost never sounded vulnerable.
But he did now.
Raw and certain.
“You hear me?” he murmured. “More than anything.”
Your eyes filled completely this time.
“Oh, c’mon,” he sighed softly, smiling a little as he wiped beneath your eyes. “Why’re you cryin’ again?”
“You’re just…” You laughed shakily. “Too sweet.”
“That sounds fake.”
“It’s not.”
“Hm.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with me.”
You smiled for real then. Small.
Beautiful enough to make his chest ache.
There it is.
Sukuna stared at you for a moment like he wanted to memorize the sight.
Then you suddenly climbed fully into his lap without warning, wrapping yourself around him again.
He blinked once.
“…Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“You cling harder than a haunted doll.”
But his hands were already settling securely on your waist.
You tucked your face into his chest with a content little sigh.
“I just wanna be close to you.”
The honesty of it nearly killed him.
Sukuna leaned back into the couch, one hand smoothing through your hair over and over.
“Then stay close,” he whispered.
So you did.
And sometime later, long after the baking show ended, Sukuna looked down to find you fast asleep on top of him— still holding onto his shirt tightly even in your dreams.
He smiled so softly no one else would’ve believed it.
Then he pulled the blanket higher around you and kissed your forehead carefully.
“Love you too, clingy girl.”
hai! Ive been so busy this month, i wrote this after several episodes in which i felt 100% like reader and I thought it was a good idea to write something, so as not to make other people feel alone.
original work, do not stole, copy, plagiarize my work - sturduststrails
its also my birthday yey🦄🍪!
HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR ACADEMIC RIVAL, AN ESSAY BY IZUKU MIDORIYA.
❤︎ SYNOPSIS: you and izuku are academic rivals. he as a plan—a semi-stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless—a plan to make you fail your last final of the semester. he just has to figure out how to seduce somebody, first.
❤︎ CONTENT: f!reader, college!au, enemies to lovers, crack treated seriously, know it all!izu vs know it all!reader, battle of the know it alls, glasses!izu, eventual smut, big bakusquad cameo bc fuck it we ball, i said izu is a babbler so i made him babble, dacryphilia, blowjobs, doll!pet name…18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.
❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: inspired by @/dyhun’s academic rival fic, but they deactivated, so i can’t link it :((. if they still exist somewhere else, pls let me know! somebody! also, i know nothing abt debate. or smart ppl stuff. I WRITE IN MY ROOM ALL DAY, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME I—
♫ NOW PLAYING: she did it again, tyla ft. zara larsson.
read on ao3 | 8.4k words | masterlist.
YOUR MAJOR doesn’t have that many students. Apparently, those interested in the overlap between Philosophy and Classics at Yuuei are about twenty a year.
The first semester of college is easy, as expected. You’re the top of your classes, also as expected, and comfortable. Whether graduating summa cum laude matters to collegiate professors is beyond you, but it mattered to you in high school, and it matters to you now—being the best. And, you thrive behind books instead of the fields, so academic prowess it is.
Your second semester is a little different.
A guy with forest green hair transfers into your Advanced Philosophy Seminar period (and, you later realize, he moved around to fit Debate Club into his packed schedule—your Debate Club). You didn’t think anything of it, until you did.
Anytime you present a thought you’re proud of, his voice from across the room squeaks an ‘um, actually’ with a smile, before he’s flipping to precise page that proves you wrong. Naturally, you ‘um, actually’ him back, without a smile, and before long, you’re both send hostile glares across the room. (His, hidden beneath a veil of civility, which makes him annoying. Especially in Debate.)
Competition begins to exist outside the classroom—you both search for it. Occasionally, you’ll get a text, accompanied by a picture and a red 100% marked across a piece of paper. And, a middle finger emoji. Occasionally, you send one back. You begin to hate Debate Club—that’s the only reason he got your number in the first place. All because of that stupid group chat.
That led to texting the evidence of every test, every final. Now, it’s tradition. Rubbing a win in the others’ face.
Izuku Midoriya’s ability to absolutely undermine your every exhale makes you want to grab him by the neck, and throttle him.
But, right now? Right now, he’s acting…weird.
