Fruit’s public diary

I do it all for black women 18+ Blog

[oldfruitloop]

18+ Blog 🤍

Don’t expect much from me

Minors go bye bye 👋🏾

||𝑁𝑎𝑁𝑎|| 20 || 𝑆ℎ𝑒／𝐻𝑒𝑟|| Bisexual

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜- 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚑-✨🥞

𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑- 𝙵𝚒𝚌𝚝ional beings

𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑖𝑛’𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡 

“Hi I’ll be your Guide 🫶🏾 your G.U.I.D.E to the other side”

[nonscathingbullets]

I will ALWAYS advocate for chubby girl representation in fanfiction!!!

Chubby girls should be able to feel like their favorite characters could/would love and desire them!

[kitorin]

reward.

in which, lohen gives you a lil surprise for your praise kink...

contents. lohen x gn!afab!reader, NSFW, improper use of gold stars, blowjob, spitplay (he's kind of filthy ngl), praise kink, pet names (sweetie, bunny, sweetheart, darling, love), mild breath play (one half assed chokehold), nipple play, might come off as condescending but he's not mean, no beta we die like my dignity writing this, MDNI

a/n. this was inspired by this post by erk198p (i hope you don't mind !!)...i have never written smut so don't expect much from me. as shy as i got writing this, it was fun trying something new !!

“How do I give someone head?”

The first thing Lohen did was laugh at you. His amusement had him pleading for air with unbridled wheezing, as an immediate warmth crept onto your cheeks.

“Is that…bad?”

After fighting for air, Lohen composed himself, a chuckle rumbling in his throat as his red eyes gleamed with mirth. “Not at all, bunny. You just looked so tense and serious, I thought something bad happened to you.”

“N–no, not at all. I just wanted to make you feel good.” You trailed off, his gaze now far too intense for you to handle.

Lohen sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you in. “I know, I know. You just need to be more specific.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y’know.” With a forceful turn, your back was pressed against his chest. He leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “Head means a lot of things, someone means a lot of people. Did you know that there’s 8 billion people in the world? That’s a lot of people. Who are you trying to give head to, hm?”

You gulped, embarrassed out of your mind. “...you.”

“And what exactly does head mean again?” Lohen’s forearm settled around your neck. “Go on. You’re smart. You can do it.”

The praise was mind numbing, whether it was because of his condescension or his approval, you don’t know—all you were aware of was the pool of arousal between your legs.

“Sucking…your dick.”

Lohen’s smile grew. “Good, good. What’s another word for that?”

What is wrong with this guy? “Uh–cock.”

“Another?”

“P–penis.”

His arms tightened around your neck. “I meant fellatio, silly. Irrumatio could work as well.”

Bitch. You cursed in your head. Correct me the first time then, idiot. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who dedicated every free moment of his to you; the one who memorised your every preference by heart, the same man who made sure that forgetting you were loved was impossible.

“So.” He pinched your cheek, amused at how soft and squishy it was. “What are you asking for? Use your full sentences.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled. “Can you teach me how to suck your dick?”

“Hmmmm.” Lohen taunted, his chokehold bit into your neck even harder. “I need manners.”

“P–please teach me how to suck your dick.”

Lohen grinned, releasing his headlock. You savoured your reward, gasping for air. “Well done. Should’ve said so earlier, love.”

You’re on your knees, by Lohen’s bed.

You’ve got no idea how long it’s been, nor did you know where Lohen went off to. Your hands remained behind your back, courtesy of the instructions your boyfriend left you.

Wait on your knees by the bed, alright? I’ll be back soon.

There was no reason why you had to wait like this. Yet you obliged, unable to bring yourself to disobey him. The air conditioning made you tremble, goosebumps littered all over your skin, despite being fully clothed.

The door creaked and your head immediately turned towards it, excited to see him.

Lohen stifled his laughter before striding over to the bed, in front of where you waited. “Everything okay?”

You nodded and he smiled, settling down before discarding his shorts somewhere in the room. His fingers slipped underneath his boxers and out came his cock, pre-cum peaking out of the tip. Apprehension made you sweat. You avoided eye contact at all costs, feeling tiny and insignificant in front of him.

Even looking at his cock felt wrong. You’ve had sex before and was all too familiar with it, but being eye-to-eye was unsettling. It appeared far more bigger than it actually did when you thought about it going into your mouth.

Lohen petted your head, and the sensation went straight to your core. “Relax. Just breathe. It’s not scary, you’ve seen it before.” He held it from the base, and his other hand hooked you in from the neck, dragging you closer. Gently, he slapped his dick all over your face, smearing precum on both of your cheeks. “It won’t slide in nicely if you’re not relaxing.”

His fingers caressed your cheek, the silver ring on his index finger felt freezing compared to how hot his touch was. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” You breathed out, gulping.

His hand patted your cheek. “Make it wet first.” Lohen instructed.

You looked around for lube. Usually, he kept it in his bedside table.

A gentle slap caught your attention. “You have a mouth. Use it.” His hand stroked his cock. “Spit on it, lick it. I’m not strict. Just remember this is up to you. I can’t help you if you slack off.”

“R–right.” So you did as he said—gathering as much spit as possible, you spat it all over, and licked the areas you missed. Unsure of what else to do, you kissed it all over, your own spit blemishing your cheeks.

Lohen sighed, a breathy moan escaped his lips as he leaned back. “Good, good. You’re doing great. My balls are lonely too, y’know?”

Relief washed over you at his validation, the world left the usual warm, funny feeling in your tummy. You licked at his balls too, pubes tickling your face. It smelt musky with hints of salt, and you could vaguely pick up the cologne he usually liked to wear. 

Lohen grunted at the stimulation, slowly peeling your head off him. “That’s enough. Now open up.”

You did as he said.

“Hmmm. I don’t think it’ll fit like that, bunny.” His thumb and pointer fingers slipped into your mouth, spreading your upper and lower teeth apart. “You’ve got space. Use it.” He leaned forward, as if inspecting the insides of your mouth. “Hm. Hang on.” He said casually, before two fingers slipped in, sliding across the roof of your mouth. The sensation made you writhe, a hand held the back of your head and his legs locked you into place. “How deep is your gag reflex?”

You gripped his thighs, leaving little crescent moons.

“Aw. You’re ignorin’ me. Guess I’ll have to see for myself.” He pushed deeper and deeper, until an ugly gurgle came tumbling out.

Hacking and coughing, you felt a surge of thick saliva pooling in your mouth, trembling from the sensation. Lohen cupped a hand in front of you. “Spit it out.”

You obeyed, panting once your mouth was unoccupied.

“Where should we…oh!” Lohen mumbled. You stared at the spit in his hand, glistening, as it clasped around his dick, pumping up and down intently. “Now you’ve got extra lube.” He groaned, lathering your spit all over his cock. “Well done bunny. Truly impressive.”

Embarrassed and hot, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Yet your gaze didn’t budge from his dick, your spit squelched with every moment.

Lohen chuckled, as if he no longer had air in his lungs. “C’mon baby, open up f’me, will you?”

This time, you opened up as wide as possible, realising you were too far gone to feel shy, embarrassed, or anything of the sort.

“Awww, you really do love cock.” Lohen cooed, as if coddling a baby. One hand slipped under your chin, stroking the flesh lovingly. His other hand grasped the roots of your hair, slowly pulling you even closer. “Well, my cock loves you too, sweetie.”

It slid into your mouth, dragging itself against your tongue. Your eyes widened at the sensation, eyelids fluttering as he sank deeper.

It was hot, as if it’d burn a hole in your throat. Your jaw stretched to accommodate him, and your tongue uselessly struggled, unfamiliar with such circumstances. The musky scent attacked you brutally, sending you into a dizzied fluster.

Your mind raced, overwhelmed with everything. Your nose raced for air and your eyelids squeezed shut, as a helpless whimper trembled in your throat.

With a hand resting in the locks of your hair, Lohen sighed, rubbing reassuring circles. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He groaned. “I won’t move until you’re ready, alright? Just feel me properly, yeah?”

You nodded, tried to—but the message got across. Your boyfriend chuckled, petting your head. “Good bunny.”

Your thighs tensed at the praise, and your cunt was pleading for some sort of attention. 

Carefully, your breathing finally paced itself, chest slowly rising and sinking. Your hands were perched onto his thighs, enjoying the hard muscle under their touch.

Lohen’s thumb pressed against your forehead. Your eyes shot open, as he smoothed out whatever he placed there.

“Hnnngh?” It was hard to speak with his dick in your mouth. “Mmmhnn—”

You looked up, and there was Lohen, fiddling with a stickerpad. Gold flashed from under the lights; gold stars, the kind that children were rewarded with.

Bastard. 

“Bunnyyy, you have to stay still.” He tutted, stroking the first sticker on your forehead. “That one was for waiting so patiently f’me. And this—” He pressed another into your skin, onto one of your temples. “—is for being so perfect and wanting to please me like this.”

Every protest came out muffled, and was always met with shushing from him.

“For getting my cock niiice and wet.” He slurred as he planted a sticker on your right cheek.

“And this one’s for givin’ me extra lube. Oooh, you look cute cross-eyed. Do it again, please?” A tiny star on your nose, which you made the mistake of trying to watch, accidentally furthering your humiliation.

“Oh, and an extra big one because I looove you~ ”

You can’t imagine how stupid you look right now. Never in your life, did you think that the stars adorning your spelling tests as a kid would end up on your skin like this.

Yet your hips rocked gently and drool spilled from your lips, addicted to his validation. It came in sickly sweet cooing, words that would’ve been demeaning, had anyone else said them to you.

(They still were. Except with Lohen, arousal accompanied instead of disgust.)

“Mmmmph.” Stop it. Giving a blowjob for the first time was embarrassing enough, the stickers made it worse. You tried to pull away, but his hands locked behind your head. “Ngh.”

“Sorry bunny, you must be feelin’ lonely.” Lohen peeled off another sticker, it waited patiently on his fingertip. “I’m gonna start moving now. I'll make sure you won't gag. Tap my thigh twice if that’s okay with you.”

You did as he said. A bit too eagerly, even.

Slowly, his hips pushed forwards, your eyes widened, watering a bit at the corners. Your brain went into overload, freaking out at how far he was going. Fingernails dug into his thighs, you’re sure you’re going to make him bleed at this rate.

In. Out. In. Out. You recited to yourself, regulating your breathing as his cock pumped in and out. It was consistent yet gentle pace. Your tongue circled around it, to the best of its ability and Lohen let out an obscene moan. 

A sticker kissed your undereye. “Well done, darlin’!! You’re doing so, so good for me.” A groan punctuated his praise, and you heard him peel off another sticker. “Oh, fuck. I love you~this feels amazing.”

Pride swelled in your chest at his flattery. The world began to spin as you propped yourself up, and bobbed your head back and forth. Your hips now rocked shamelessly as your cunt throbbed, desperate for more.

“Fuuuck, you’re so cute. So fucking cute. You have no idea how pretty you look right now. I need to take a picture.”

Another sticker on your face, the adhesive felt cool against your burning skin. A shaky hand stroked your hair, as his moans echoed in a satisfying chorus throughout his room. 

You’re making Lohen feel good. Lohen’s happy. He even wants to take a photo of you ruining yourself for him.

Suddenly, oxygen wasn’t necessary. Optional, if you had to put a label on it.

You picked up the speed, possessed by an aroused frenzy and a determination to make him come. You want to make a mess of him, to moan even more than he already was, and to watch him tremble with the aftermath of an orgasm. You just wanted him to tell you that you did a good job again, as you relished the control he had over your pace.

The squelching echoed alongside your whining. Each hand planted itself onto your cheeks before pull you off, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. “Keep it open.” Lohen grunted, fervently jerking himself off. “T–tongue out, ngh—”

You did as told, watching the viscous white dribble onto your tongue. You took a moment to swallow, the bitter saltiness permeated your throat, before you started panting, catching up on all the air you missed out on. “Was that good…?” Your posture slumped as you mumbled, resting your cheek against his thigh, your spit smearing all over it.

“You were perfect, bunny.” Lohen chuckled. “So fucking good. Let’s wash up now, yeah?”

Even the constellations of the night would be jealous of how you looked.

As the bathtub filled itself, you inspected yourself through the bathroom mirror, clothes discarded in the wash as your fingers glided over the stickers.

Lohen didn’t hesitate, you were covered in them, with your chin being the only untouched area. You reached for a large one on your cheek, but your wrist was captured first.

“Keep them on.” He whined, also unclothed.

“I look like a clown.” You grumbled, but you obliged. “Where did you even come up with that idea?”

Lohen shrugged. “You have a praise kink.”

Your cheeks flared up even more. “W–well yeah, but did you really have to—y’know…” You didn’t have a response, earning a smirk from Lohen.

His arms wrapped around you, a tight vice around your waist. “Awww, well, I love you tooo.” His chin settled on your shoulder, before his fingers ventured across your chest. “Oooh, this one's excited.” He poked a nipple, making you squirm and whimper, eliciting a mischievous giggle from him. 

Out came the sticker pad. “God Lohen, n–no more—when did you even bring those here?”

“Does it matter?” Lohen peeled off another sticker. “Need to reward it for getting turned on for me too.” He inspected the almost empty sticker pad. “Aw. ‘m running out already.”

You conceded, letting him stick a star near your nipple. “You’re not gonna ever let this go, are you?”

“Nopeee, because I love you waaaay too much. Your fault for looking this cute. Blame yourself, not me.” Lohen drawled, before planting a wet kiss on your lips. His brows furrowed with concentration, fingers pinching and tugging at your other nipple. "C'mon..." He mumbled. "You can do it." A calloused thumb kept stroking at your nipple, determined to get it needy and erect.

You writhed, clinging onto the edge of the sink. Lohen was unbothered by this, entertained, even.

With a final pinch, Lohen celebrated with a devilish grin, flicking your nipple before it earned a sticker. "Theeeere we go." Lohen pressed a kiss on it, ignoring how you bit your lip to stifle a moan. "Well done."

The bath was long ignored, it was probably more than ready by now.

Your gaze drifted downwards, watching his cock slowly come back to life. It trailed back up to his face, where a devious smirk awaited you.

Lohen's fingers slithered down between your thighs, feeling around for your arousal. "Wanna find out how else I can reward you, bunny?"

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[zaynezone]

happy birthday pt 1 @studiosuni

"Oh we don't need the dessert menu, thank you."

Valko and Zayne glance at each other, then back at you. The waiter is gone before they can interject, which is almost the (non existent) cherry on top.

"You don't want dessert?" Valko pouts, and you have to resist the urge to call the waiter back immediately at the sight of his sad puppy dog eyes.

"We don't always need dessert, right?" You grin, meeting Zayne's gaze with probably too much mirth in your eyes. He raises a brow at your antics, but shrugs as he concedes.

"I agree. We can always eat dessert at home."

In hindsight, you should have just let them have that damn chocolate cake.

"Please! I can't-can't cum again!" You nearly scream as you fall apart on Zayne's tongue, hips jerking against his mouth as he works you through the aftershocks.

"Come on, one more? It's only fair I get a taste too." Valko grins, canines flashing as he nudges Zayne over. They're both situated between your legs, happily sharing for once.

"You-you already had your turn" You whine, feeling his tongue drag over your inner thigh.

"Mhm but Zayne got to go twice. I want another turn too." He knows exactly what he's doing, hot breath making you squirm under him.

"O-okay okay you can go a-again." He dives in the moment the words leave your lips, making you cry out immediately. You're still so sensitive, but it's hard to complain when it feels this good.

"Having fun?" Zayne murmurs, leaning in to kiss you. You didn't notice him move to your side, though the distraction is welcome.

"It-fuck-it's too much V-Valko!"

"Don't worry, you can take it. Besides...it's almost time for your dessert."

[swansolstce]

𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐋

alhaitham x reader ⤀ synopsis: you, and your vanity, and your affinity for pretty things... beauty has always been meant for admiration, so where else should he direct you, but to the fairest one of all? ⤀ cw: fem!reader, established relationship, mirror sex, fingering, praise, rough + unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, a lil bit of dom!haitham, overstimulation, cervix kisses, multiple orgasms, squirting, subspace, vry sweet he’s actually so in love — mdni || ꒰ 5.1k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: mirrors in his playable kit -> mirror in the bedroom... repost from my old blog; this was originally an extra from an old series, but I’ve changed some of the wording so that it can stand as its own fic

You, and your vanity, and your affinity for pretty things...

Where Alhaitham lacks in idle conversations, he makes up for in his acute observation; taking note in particular of the way you glance at your reflection—not only in the mirrors of a merchant’s passing display, but at every turn, and every corner. In the stained glass windows of the Akademiya, in the bronze vessels decorating Lambad’s second floor…even now, on your excursion through the Grand Bazaar, he catches the quick flit of your head as you peer at yourself in the fountain beneath Zubayr Theater.

Not that he’d ever fault a star for its beauty, when even the sweltering Sumeru sun is roped into your orbit—bending to your will as it dazzles behind you, like a halo in your backdrop. Perhaps the world is, but a shell…and a pearl such as yourself—beautiful and rare—ought to shine on a more veracious display. A familiar smirk plays on his lips, painting his handsome face in a devious shade of sly.

It’s clear from just your peripherals that he must be devising something terrible… Yet there’s a dance to your step when you stop him in his path; your hands clasped coyly behind your back, as you dip into his vicinity with your feigned innocence.

“And just what are you smiling for?” you lilt, shifting your weight forward onto your tiptoes. He leans over to honor what he can only surmise to be a wordless request, but you pull away before his lips ever have the chance to meet yours. You gleam in that coquettish smile of yours—one that sits so perfectly atop your playful flirtations.“Thinking about me?”

Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. “Am I not allowed to smile?”

By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyes…all in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shameless—any of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to you…

So he cuts you off while he’s still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the waters’ surface once again.

“Just thinking about how pretty you are…”

And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows you’d keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness. 

Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, it’s resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truth—the one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one you’re clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. It’s a shame, really. For although he’s never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the world’s truths, then he’d gladly partake down this endless road—as a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all? 

Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe. 

“I know how you love to admire your own reflection…” His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. “So don’t you want to see how pretty you look?” 

“No. That’s—” Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. “‘s embarrassing…”

He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But there’s nothing to tempt, when there’s no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out. 

“Haitham…” you breathe, and he knows you’re close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that he’s pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover ‘whyyyy?’, if only for the fact that he’s simply…faster. 

Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head down—away from that safe corner by his neck—so that you’d come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.

“If you look away, I’ll stop.” 

…And so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until they’re well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.

“That’s it,” he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at the…discomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as it’s become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. “Look at you…” 

Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visage…but it’s hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forte—especially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how he’s scissoring you open.

It’s almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.

Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you are—until like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.

“Haitham…” you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stop… 

But it’s tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and out—slowly, steadily—so that you’d see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isn’t nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.

“Please more… ‘m so close…” Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that you’d persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time you’ve spent in the Nation of Wisdom, it’s certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.

“As you wish,” he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though it’s hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most. 

Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and it’s gone—as if the plug had just been pulled from your very being—and like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.

A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck.  

“Keep looking,” he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. “I want you to see everything I do to you…”

“Like how pretty you are when I touch you…” He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. “Here,” he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, there’s nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass. 

It's obscene. You’re obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think it’s almost pathetic how far you’ve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, so…distorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display. 

Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shine…everything to flaunt how you need to cum—how you need him and anything he’s willing to give. 

Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your lover’s reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarity—one too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.

Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaitham’s prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation. 

“Do you see how,” Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, “erotic you are…” Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.

You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighs…there’s a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil you’ve chosen to submit to. “So show me what I look like when you fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he chuckles, and there’s a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines. 

A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lap—spread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip. 

Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at you—the real you, in the flesh—before he fucks you into oblivion. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you don’t quite catch. “‘Ayouni,” he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyes—as precious as the gift of sight.) “Nour ‘ayouni…” His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insides—a resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as you’d take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)

Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his hands—a doll to maneuver and fold as he pleases.

A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. It’s never truly occurred to you how big he really is—at least not until now, when you’re confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on… (it’s no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how he’s always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)

The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, it’s one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behest…? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.

Still, you’ve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, it’s clear that he’s yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptiness—your insides so cravenly wanting what is amiss—because it’s just so inherently wrong that you aren’t full enough, that he isn’t deep enough.

An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. “Want you,” you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. “All of you, all the way…please…?”

“Aren’t you, ngh,” he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. “Aren’t you shameless today?” 

“Don’t care.” Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that he’d finally fill you. “Just n-need you.” In such a deliriated state, it’s difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bones—the resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your being…but it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when you’re asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course he’ll drop you lower onto his shaft. 

Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural ‘fuck.’ He’s never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, it’s suffice to say he’s reached... 

“Too..d-deep…” you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness that’s engulfed your thoughts. 

A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hips…and suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)

There’s little time to process any of his wordless cues—especially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. “Like what you see?” he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length. 

All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when you’re so overcome by the feeling of Alhaitham…everywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.

“Show me where you feel me,” he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your hand—no doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legs—but he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin. 

“This…” Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. “... is how far I am inside you…” 

You can’t help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seems…taboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on you—dirty work done by the fog that’s settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition. 

“Don’t believe me?” Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocation—too human to act as if he’d been left unscathed.

For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move… Which he obliges to of course—adjusting ever so slightly, until he’s perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whatever’s left of you, as you’re made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so. 

“Keep singing for me,” he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented  whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. It’s clear his words are largely lost on you—displaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core. 

“That’s it…” Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. “My beautiful girl…who always…” 

His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your knee—effectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open wider—before a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.“…takes me so well.” 

You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirror’s shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monster—inhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go. 

“Come on, let go…” Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. “I promise you’re just as ravishing when you cum,” he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. “Maybe even more so…”

The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girth—they’re all things you’ve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praise…to hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instincts… 

It’s a dangerous combination. It’s too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaks—your muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight. 

“‘m c-cumming…” you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.

The name ‘Haitham’ tangles with your cries, and he loves it—addicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of you—finds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.

He’s close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as you’d allow him to follow. “Just. Like. That.” 

And so, when it breaks, it shatters—like skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destruction—until your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure. 

Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he were…impressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that he’s pleasured you this far beyond belief. It’s surreal—the only word in any of the languages he’s studied (including yours)—that could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow draw…only to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets. 

Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumane…but then again, a mermaid like you isn’t quite human after all.

“Can you, ngh, hold out…a little longer…?” His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)

“‘kay…” The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that you’d do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longer…(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams ‘too much,’ as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)

Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, it’d cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppily—too busy drowning in your deluge to care—while the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum. 

Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you don’t feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts away—replaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more. 

Alhaitham studies the ‘you’ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shoulders—each one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.

‘How…beautiful…’ 

You shake your head in dreamy opposition. “W’nna stay like this…for…a bit longer…” Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.

notes2: as always, thank you for reading, reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

© swansolstce — do not feed into AI, steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[snekysonjr]

Mirabel *officially* joins the waiting room 😌

[plushworldz]

trust i got yall fr 💯💯💯

[oldfruitloop]

Post Downstairs Dj room temp Redbull

[anas-fromgaza]

Here you can donate to the families in Gaza. We have collected $3,912 / $20,000.

This video shows ongoing, systematic demolitions in Gaza.

Homes are being destroyed, neighborhoods cleared, and entire areas wiped out even now, while a ceasefire is supposedly in place.

People are watching their houses disappear piece by piece.

Not during fighting.

Not in the middle of airstrikes.

But after everything, when they were told it was safe to breathe again.

The destruction didn’t stop.

It just became quieter.

These images show displacement tents set up right next to a heavily damaged building.

The building was hit before and is leaning, at risk of collapsing at any moment.

Families are living in these tents because they have no other place to go.

There are no safe areas left, no intact homes, no shelters to move to.

Leaving this spot doesn’t mean safety it just means being displaced again.

So people stay.

Not because they feel protected,but because this is the last option they have They sleep knowing the building beside them could fall.

They wake up hoping it doesn’t.

This is not temporary living This is forced survival.

Donate for GAZA

This donation campaign is for ANAS family. Not for strangers, not for a cause I'm distant from but for the people who raised me, the people I love, the people I'm terrified of losing.

They are in Gaza, trying to survive something no human being should ever have to endure. Constant bombardment, displacement, hunger, fear, and the feeling that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Every day is about staying alive one more night.

If you choose to help, you are not donating to an abstract crisis. You are helping real people with names, memories, and lives that matter to me more than anything.

[kenforty]

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⚡︎ˎˊ˗ Zap.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader x Kaminari Denki

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

warning: mmf threesome, entirely focused on the guys, dick sucking and ass eating, handjobs, rimming, mention of spit, cum and precum. (felt like a degenerate whilst writing the warning)

Part 01, Part 02, Part 03 (here)

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"So, where do you want us?" You rub your hands together, looking up at Kaminari in anticipation, still clad in your shorts and Bakugou's t-shirt, the only one among the three to be still clothed. "I'll be happy with whatever."

Kaminari sat on the edge of your bed, completely bare are he stared down at you and Bakugou kneeling before him, his cock hard and throbbing between you three, messy from his previous load and ready for his next, "You guys can take the lead, I don't—"

"I'll take his dick." Bakugou grunted, already placing hands on Kaminari's thighs and spreading them, shuffling closer, lips inches away from his weeping tip.

"Hold on." You wrapped your arms around his neck, yanking him back, side eyeing him, "You can't take him all for yourself," you scooch closer too, forcing Kaminari's legs wider open, "We need to be in a position where we both can have him."

"Or." Bakugou raised his hand, pointing an index finger up, "We can take turns and both have our way." Already reaching for Kaminari again, eager to toy with him.

"You are just jealous I'll be better." You huffed, sitting against the side of the bed, tapping against Kaminari's thigh, "Sit on my face, while he sucks your dick." You instructed, helping him settle his ass over your chin, watching him contemplate.

"I don't want to hurt you," Kaminari mumbled, afraid to fully settle his weight on your face, hands clutching Bakugou's shoulders.

"Oi, put your weight on my shoulders." Bakugou reached over, grabbing his thighs, while he himself crawled onto your lap.

Final position being with you the floor against the bed, Kaminari standing with his hands on Bakugou's shoulders, puckered hole inches from your lips and Bakugou kneeling in your lap.

You craned your neck up, peppering kisses against the back of Kaminari's thighs, slowly inching up till you reached his hole, multitasking as your hands reached for Bakugou's cock, teasing the tip before stroking the base.

At some point, there is precum and spit smeared all over your cheeks, fluid dripping down your neck and seeping into the t-shirt you wore.

You didn't have any complains though, how could, especially when Kaminari was moaning so prettily for you and Bakugou.

Kaminari moaned, grinding his ass down, pushing your tongue deeper, hands tangling in Bakugou's hairs, cockhead a lovely shade of peach embellished with pearly beads of white.

"He's close." Bakugou hissed, tongue pressing into his taint occasionally lapping at your chin, rutting his own hips forward, precum coating your hands.

You doubled your efforts, working Bakugou's cock in your laps, one hand on the base of his length, other tugging his balls, neck aching as you craned your head to reach deeper into Kaminari.

Bakugou took his cock back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and taking his entire length in one go, bobbing his head, as Kaminari coated his throat with dripping precum.

Your hands dipped forward, one cradling and massaging Bakugou's balls, while other circled his rim, feeling his cock helplessly twitch against your belly.

"Quit distracting me woman." He hissed, breath fanning against Kaminari's cock, grinding against your palms without a hint of shame.

His words only made you double the efforts, hands making a quick work of his cock, jorking it with renewed vigor, gliding your palm against the sensitive head of his cock.

Bakugou curled his back, hips humping your hands with urgency, balls tightening as he painted your torso white, cum splattered on your (his) t-shirt.

Following him, "I—I'll cum, fu—fuck," Kaminari moaned, pulling him off his length, fisting his cock, as he painted Bakugou's tits white, chest heaving as he slumped down, between you both, Bakugou scooted back, arm around his waist, making sure neither their weights were on you.

"Denks." You whispered, hands pressing along his sides, rubbing shapes along his skin as the three of you finally caught your breaths, "You alright?"

Eyes meeting Bakugou's over his shoulder, he reached over, wiping the sweat from your shoulders with the back of his hand.

He nodded against Bakugou's collar bone, slowly crawling to the side and off your lap, limping against the bed beside you, "I think—I think I saw the light."

Bakugou snort at his words, leaning to press a kiss against his forehead, before pulling back and smashing his lips against yours, "With the way he was riding your face, I thought you'd see the light."

"Come on, if I can handle your fatass I can handle anything." You lazily rubbed his thighs, head leaning against Kaminari's shoulder.

Kaminari pulled you close, lips ghosting against the column of your throat, "It's your turn now."

"I know, but we'll do me tomorrow." You pulled away from them, stretching your arms above your head and stripping down to your underwear, heading towards the bathroom, "let's clean up and sleep, you'll need alotta energy tomorrow."

Oh. Oh.

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a/n: lowkey I need to work on on-going series instead of drabbles or starting new series, anyways hopefully you'll enjoy this little fic that has been in my drafts for like months.

[tokkushin]

SECRET QUIRKS & NAUGHTY PERKS!

pairing: (timeskip) pervy!prohero izuku x fem!reader

summary: Izuku Midoriya is the perfect neighbour - kind, helpful, and dangerously attractive. But is it true that the most innocent ones hide the dirtiest secrets?

wc: 5.3k!

warnings: lots of talk about underwear, masturbation (m), horny thoughts, panty stealing, he puts a pair in his mouth, brief choking, oral (f!receiving,), fingering, clothed sex, unprotected sex, cum fetish, restraining, teasing, praise, she wears underwear after he cums in them! ><, brief neito monoma slander lolllz

credits to @/hornetpills on X for the banner!

Laundry day.

Possibly, the most dreaded part of your week. Trudging down to the apartment's basement laundry room every Wednesday and Saturday felt like a punishment. The rows of humming machines, harsh fluorescent lighting and the faint smell of detergent clinging to the air. 

Lately, though, there had been one thing that made it all a little more tolerable.

A certain green-haired pro hero.

Izuku Midoriya. 

Your neighbour from across the hall … and dangerously hot.

You've seen him around the building a few times, never really having too many chances to talk to him aside from when you run into him in the basement.

He lived a quiet life, totally different from the side of him the world sees. The only people you'd ever seen filtering through his apartment were his mother and some of his high school friends.

He was well-known in the building, and he definitely brought the establishment a good name - the kind of person to carry groceries for neighbours, or treat the building staff to dinner as a thank you. It seemed like hero duty never really stopped for him, even when he was off the clock.

Yet even someone so perfect can hold secrets so shameful.

Today was one of those not-so-dreadful days.

You chose to go downstairs later than usual in hopes of not running into the man. Work was kicking your ass, already running late to an important meeting at the agency. The bags under your eyes would be noticeable to anyone, even if they were standing 20 feet away. And although you're sure an interaction with Izuku Midoriya might make your day a little better, you wouldn't want to be caught dead looking like this. 

But of course, the universe had different plans.

"C'mon, please," you huff. You're on your knees in front of the machine, the loud noises echoing repeatedly, as if it were angry. Frustrated, you settle on choosing a different one. The sounds of the former still playing in the distance.

Before you can make it to the next one, you feel your body collide with something. The hard force sends your freshly washed clothes tumbling to the floor. You groan at the sight of multicoloured fabrics covering the ground, heat rushing to your cheeks before you bend to pick them up. 

A scarred hand reaches out at the same time as you, fingers brushing as you pick up the articles.

Just great. And of course, he's caught you on the worst possible day.

"I'm really sorry," he says, placing the clothes back into your basket. 

You watch as he picks the items off the floor, each piece slightly more provocative than the last. A faint blush covers his cheeks as he picks up the last piece on the ground, a green ball of lace sitting between his fingers. You try to ignore how he holds them for a moment longer than the rest before you snatch them out of his hands, shoving them to the bottom of your basket.

"No, it was my fault, I didn't see you there," you say, standing up awkwardly with your laundry basket resting on your hip. Your gaze finds the pile of now dirty clothes resting in your arms. 

He notices the slight gloss in your eyes, shoulders raised and arms fidgeting with the plastic basket. You've never been the most talkative type, but he can tell the usual whimsy you carry is missing today.

"Looks like I'll have to wash these again," you giggle, hoping to break the awkward silence and calm your racing heart. Silently, your mind is spiralling. The clock on the wall mocks you with every tick, your boss's voice growing louder and louder in your head. When he stays quiet, you're certain he's thinking that you're a total mess. 

"I can wash them," he says.

You blink at him, a small hesitation before you speak.

"Are you sure? I can always do it when I come back," you question.

"No, no. It was my fault anyway, so please, I insist. If you stop by my apartment after work, I can have it ready for you," he says, bright smile plastered on his face. He doesn't leave much room for debate, taking the hamper from your hands and making his way towards an empty machine. 

Eyes fixed on his back, you watch as he throws your clothes and his into an empty machine. The appliance is surprisingly much more obedient for him than it's ever been for you. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"O-ok. Yeah, thank you. I'll come by tonight," you say, your words rushed, legs already guiding you to the exit. The clock's ticking fades into the background as you ascend, green hair disappearing in the distance. You don't hear his response as you rush up the stairs, worries long forgotten, and your mind already shifting to the next task that awaits you. 

As soon as the door shuts, Izuku feels his shoulders drop. His hands coming up to cover his face as he feels heat spread throughout his body. He finds a seat in the corner of the room, thighs pressed together tightly as he tries to ignore the growing sensation.

You live in the apartment across from him. Your door is constantly decorated for the nearest holiday, and the sweet scent of baked goods and vanilla drifts through the cracks and into his complex. You leave dog treats for the neighbours' pets, water bottles, and granola bars neatly arranged on a little stool in the hallway.

It was hard not to know who you were, and he's never considered that a problem before. Until knowing so little about you stopped feeling like enough. 

Subconsciously, he started seeking out more chances to see you, timing his laundry trips so they lined up perfectly with yours. Over time, the two of you would fall into easy conversation in the basement laundry room, passing the hours talking about things like work or the current hero rankings. And slowly, it became his favourite part of the week.

And not just for the conversations the two of you shared. Especially not today.

He's always been proud to be a pro hero, helping people was his pride and joy. So, when he finds himself getting hard just at the sight of your underwear, the guilt is immense. Every time he sees you, he can't help but be infatuated, studying every blink, every twitch, the way your tongue brushes along your teeth.

He's not sure why you've got such a hold on him.

It was unethical. He knew that. What would the world think about the current #2 pro-hero imagining such suggestive things about an innocent civilian?

The creaking of the stairs pulled him out of his spiralling thoughts. Mrs. Tadashi, the elderly lady from two floors up, graces him with a small, warm smile.

"Could you help me with my laundry, dear?" she asks, arms already reaching out to steady herself.

He ignores the way his heart races, moving to her side in aid, grateful for the distraction as he tries to mask the flush creeping across his cheeks.

…

Work was brutal. You somehow survived the day after being completely chewed out by your boss. Your head is pounding, even the soft click of your apartment door closing reverberating through your skull. 

Before you let yourself get too comfortable, the interaction with the pro floods back into your mind. 

Of course, the one time you're looking and feeling your worst is when you run into him. The thought of your clothes scattered on the laundry room floor, the way he blushed at the sight of your panties - makes heat rush through your body.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face, suppressing the thought as you head to his door.

The first time you knock, you're met with silence. The only sound was small groans from the other side of the door. 

'Maybe he's working out,' you think.

After a few more knocks, the door swings open, and the green-haired man is standing intimidatingly close to you. You can't resist the way your eyes trail over his body, realizing that he's not anywhere near as put together as he looked before. 

Hair dishevelled, and his face flushed light pink. His abs are on display, boxers peeking out from the waistline of his sweats. If he was working out, he definitely didn't look nearly sweaty enough for the amount of noise he was making a moment ago. 

He notices you're staring, clearing his throat before asking you to step inside while he grabs the clothes from his room.

"Sorry! Hope I didn't bother you…" You trail off, eyes wandering as you take in the sight of his apartment. It's modern. Sleek. The All Might posters and figurines on the shelf are the only real pop of colour. 

Well, that, and something else.

On the arm of his couch rests a small mound of green decorated with small flowers, a white substance barely visible on the material. 

Your face flushes as soon as you see it. You did not just walk in on your neighbour having sex, did you? 

As he returns to you, laundry basket in hand, the floral scent of the dryer sheets fills your senses.

"Here you g-"

"Thanks!" you say, cutting him off, grabbing the basket and heading out the door, "promise I won't make a habit of this. Enjoy your night!" you yell, door shutting in his face, leaving him at the entrance, both confused and flustered. 

You dump your clothes onto your bed, folding them before putting them in their rightful place. You've been at this for an hour now, since the interaction with Midoriya. Constant excuses popping up in your mind for what could describe the scenario.

Maybe he was just working out, or maybe he'd pulled a muscle. Maybe he spilled something on the couch and used a lace towel to clean it up?

That last one didn't seem too likely.

…

Where the fuck was it?

Your clothes that were once so neatly folded now covered the floor as you rifled through drawers and laundry baskets. 

You've never been the type to dress up just for a man, of course not. But even you deserved to feel nice after the week you'd had. Nothing wrong with wanting to wear nice panties on a first date, right?

The only problem is, they're nowhere to be found.

Your favourite pair. The only pair in your closet you'd ever justify spending over fifty dollars on. It had your initials embroidered on the waistband in white lettering, contrasting with the black lace of the fabric. It was an impulse buy on a random night, your best friend flaunting a matching pair. It didn't cover much, but that was sort of the point.

You'd taken a load down to the laundry room earlier today with Midoriya, having gotten a little closer to the green-haired man since your last interaction. It was possible that it got mixed with your other clothes, though it was highly unlikely. And weirdly enough, this hadn't been the first time things had disappeared for no real reason.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Fuck.

His hand freezes around his length, the material wrapped around his fingers suddenly falling to the floor. 

Knock. Knock. 

A soft call of his name came from the hallway.

He stumbles to the door, stuffing the fabric into his pants pocket. 

When he opens the door, you're standing there. A small smile sits on your face, eyes bright as you look up at him.

His gaze drops to your outfit before he can stop himself. The way the dress hugs each curve as if it were made for you. The way your breasts spill just over the top of the material, thighs exposed, and the curve of your ass visible to the naked eye.

He's never seen you like this, and he's not sure if he should be anxious or horny.

"You going out?" he asks, hands clasped in front of him, as he leans against the door. His mind races as he waits for your answer, hoping, praying that maybe you were just overdressed for a night out with friends. He tries to hide the way his smile falters, fists tightening at the thought.

"Yeah, just some guy from work I met the other day. Which brings me to why I'm here, actually," you start, eyes inspecting his face. "I'm missing this … thing from my closet, and I just wanted to know if maybe it got mixed up with your stuff a few weeks ago." 

He blinks. Green eyes squinting before he speaks.

"Oh? Well, you'll need to be a bit more specific…" he starts, scratching at the back of his neck. What you do miss is the way his heart pounds in his ears, his stomach twisting as he awaits your answer. 

You hesitate before you respond.

"Well, it's a little embarrassing, but I'm missing a pair of… unmentionables."

"Unmentionables?"

"Mhm," you hum.

"You mean, like underwear?

"Something like that," you start, the embarrassment of your request suddenly hitting you like a freight train. 

"Uh-huh… Well, what's it look like? Describe it to me," he hums, smiling at the way your thighs clench at the thought of the fabric. You roll your eyes at his question, annoyed at how he seems amused by your embarrassment. The question hangs between you two in a beat of silence.

"Well, it's black," you start, the door frame around his stature suddenly becoming much more interesting. "It has white lettering on the waist-"

Odd.

Barely visible from the angle that you're standing at, but clear enough to recognize the initials on the waistband. Your initials. 

In Izuku Midoriya's pocket.

There was no way.

"You know what, it's really not important," you laugh, pushing the thought down to the deepest pits of your mind. To think your neighbour had stolen a pair of your underwear was ridiculous. A pro hero at that.

He's confused at your withdrawal but doesn't think much of it.

"If you say so. I'll look around my place and see if I can find it. You still need me to grab those clothes from the dryer?" he questions, closing the door behind him and stepping out into the hallway. 

The realization of just how alone the two of you are settles, the faint hum of the elevator down the hall being your only companion. 

Right. 

You'd forgotten that you asked him to bring your clothes up, already predicting you'd be running late for your date tonight.

Your gaze flickers back down to the pocket of his sweats before you can stop yourself.

Black lace. White Stitching.

Your initials.

Your stomach flips.

Izuku Midoriya was many things: awkward, polite, almost painfully sweet. He was not the kind of man who stole a woman's underwear

..Right?

And if he did, what could he be doing with it? The thought lingers longer than it should, images of possible scenarios flooding your mind. The idea of him having the material wrapped around his fingers, intricate black lace between each digit. His hand wrapped tightly around his cock. If it were your underwear, does that mean he'd be moaning your name? 

You can't deny that he's popped into your head a few times at night, when you're so close to release and need just a little something to push you over the edge. And it does, he does without fail.

Heat creeps up your neck, quickly shoving the thought away with a shake of your head. You clearly needed to get laid if you were jumping to that. 

"Yeah, if you don't mind. Hopefully, this will be the last time, but I promise, dinner. I'll make it up to you." You smile, eyes coming up to stare at his green ones. The small freckles on his more visible now than ever before.

He nods, a curt smile on his face as he wishes you a 'Good night' before shutting the door. A hand comes over his face as he tries to suppress the heat in his body. 

What the hell was he doing?

He looks down at his pocket, where the faint outline of lace presses against the fabric. Embroidered letters barely visible.

He told himself it would be a one-time thing. He promised that he'd come clean about it, tell you that it had just gotten mixed up with his clothes from the first time.

His chest tightens. You were going on a date. 

The idea of you sitting across the table from some jerk, laughing at his jokes, getting to see you in an outfit he so greedily wants all for himself. It makes his jaw clench.

He doesn't know you the way he does. The way your eyes shift when you're embarrassed, how your thighs clench when, or how you wear darker coloured lingerie, cause that's when you feel you look your best. And he definitely didn't deserve to see you in that dress.

But he's not sure he really deserves to either.

He shouldn't be thinking about you like this.

..So why couldn't he stop?

The guilt of his actions is all he can think about. As he tries to ignore the raging hard-on between his legs. He figures a distraction is the best option; maybe Mrs. Tadashi needs more help in the laundry room.

As he makes the trip downstairs, filling the basket with your clothes, his imagination runs wild. There are 4 pairs in this load, excluding the ones that should barely count for fabric. So many colours, and so many designs.

One last time won't kill him, right?

Wrong.

The thought of you in that dress has made him impossibly hard, so much so that his hand alone won’t get the job done. What starts with one wrapped around his fist quickly turns to two, the third clenched between his teeth. He watches as they move skillfully along his length, hands working to feel every inch. His head thrown back in pure ecstasy, hips bucking into the tightness of his palm as he teeters on the edge of release. 

He's so, so close. 

His hands move faster, eyes shut tighter after each pump. Images of you wearing each pair racing through his mind, a wet spot forming where your pussy and his fluids meet. He bites hard when he cums, white spots coating the material held tight in his hands. Tears swelling in his eyes at the feeling of his release and small moans of your name muffled behind the fabric in his mouth. 

His chest heaves, and his grip around himself loosens. The fresh pile of laundry is sitting tauntingly in the corner of the room. The underwear in his mouth falls out of his mouth, the lace material sopping wet as it collides with his chest. His cock sits against his stomach, angry,  red. Enough so that it hurts for him to move. 

His chest heaves as the last tremor leaves his body, the room around him slowly coming into focus.

If he does want anything to come from this, he definitely needs to say something. 

This had to be the last time.

…

By the time you step off the elevator and walk down the hallway toward your apartment, heels clacking against the tile, you want nothing more than to get out of this dress and forget the night ever happened.

That date couldn't have gone worse. 

Neito Monoma had to have been the most self-centred person you'd ever met in your life. 

The topic of conversation never got the chance to stray too far from him; he would never allow it. And in the brief moments when it did, your mind wandered somewhere far less appropriate.

Green hair. Freckles.

And the very clear outline of your black lace panties in Izuku Midoriya's pocket.

You know the idea of your neighbour stealing your underwear should be disturbing. But you just can't see it that way. 

And that makes this whole thing feel so much worse.

You don't have much time to dwell on it before a knock sounds at your door, the man of the hour now standing in front of you, laundry basket in hand.

"I heard you come back," he says quickly. "I thought I should return these". 

If this were true, and Izuku Midoriya was in fact stealing your underwear, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to find out why.

I mean, you did owe him dinner.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," you start. "Did you want to come inside?"

"Huh?"

"Did you want to come in? I do still owe you that dinner," you smile, grabbing the basket, pulling him into your complex. 

As he walks through the threshold, you notice just how out of place he looks in your cozy apartment. The way he stands awkwardly at the door before you offer him a seat, eyes wandering, taking in the decorations around the complex. His eyes also can't help but land on you. Still in that dress from earlier, the way it rises slightly when you reach for ingredients on the top shelf.

That familiar feeling rushing through his body once again.

"You know," you say, opening another cabinet, "I've been thinking about that thing I lost earlier."

He freezes in the chair.

"The thing?"

"Mhm, my 'unmentionables'," you giggle. Laughing at the name while placing a pot on the stove. "Did you ever find them?"

Green eyes snap to yours, intense, calculating. "Oh, right. The green pair you lost, right? With the flowers on it?"

You pause, brows raised and a smirk on your face. 

"I didn't mention anything about them being green."

He doesn't answer right away. 

His eyes flicker to the pot long forgotten on the counter, then to you. His jaw tightens as he runs through a dozen different excuses he could give you.

"…right," he says quietly, a faint blush on his cheeks as you laugh at him.

"Maybe you need to get your story straight, Midoriya."

The words come out light, almost teasing. But he knows what you mean. The look on his face changing instantly.

For a second, neither of you moves, before he changes that in an instant.

You're surprised when his hands grab at your neck, thumb tracing along the length of your windpipe. His hold is gentle, but tight. Like he's afraid that if he lets go, you might not be there. Like, this might not be real. You moan into his mouth as he squeezes, the movement forcing your mouth to open. He wastes no time slipping in his tongue, the muscle colliding with yours without hesitation. 

"Fuck you're perfect," he groans, hands wandering the valleys of your body. You slip your hand under his shirt, his abs tensing at the feeling of your cold fingers. Your hands fidget with the waistband, slipping into his pants and grazing over his cock.

Reluctantly, your lips part. Hands fidgeting with the zipper of your dress.

"Help me take it off' you ask, turning around and placing your hands on the counter. Thighs shifting against each other as you get more antsy by the second.

His hands trail up your sides, fingers tracking along the teeth of the zipper before they disappear.

"'M not sure I want to. Do you mind keeping it on?" he questions, hands rubbing along your thighs. 

You pause before looking back at him. He's on his knees between your legs, his eyes glancing at the spot between your legs.

"N-not that I don't want to see your body, you're gorgeous, just that, you look so good in it."

You smile at his answer, eyes rolling back when you feel him lifting it over the curve of your ass. 

You notice the way he pauses, eyes trained on the pair of panties hugging your curves.

"Izuku? Is everything okay?" you question, the position of your body suddenly seeming a bit too vulgar for the moment.

"Yeah just that, I've seen this pair before," he starts, thumb moving along your slit. The small patch of wetness growing with each stroke. "Couldn't help but picture you in it. Almost lost my mind just thinking about it."

You don't get a chance to respond to him, the feeling of him pulling the fabric down to your ankles being the only thought in your mind. You whine when you feel him nearing your heat. Hips writhing in anticipation.

"Please. Please, I need more," you moan, hands pushing your body back further in search of his tongue. He smiles at your desperation, gracing you with a small lick along your folds.

Your hands fly to his hair, breath hitching as he flicks his tongue. Each one reaching deeper than the last. Izuku Midoriya was acting like a starved man, hands holding you still as his tongue does all the work. Each time his mouth separates from your body, thin lines of your substances still connect you both.

Your thighs shake when you feel his finger press against your entrance, pushing it in until it reaches his knuckle.

"Is this okay?" he asks, standing up from the spot between your legs. His upper body pressed comfortably against your back, and his finger continuing its assault. You moan when you feel his cock against your ass, slowly grinding against your cheeks.

"Fuck. A-another one. Please. Izuku, hurry up," you whine, head turning to look at him. His lips find yours in a heated kiss. Not nearly as gentle as it was before. He smiles against your lips as he pushes another finger inside you, your slick allowing him to move effortlessly. He watches as your teeth dig into your lip, hole clenching as you near your release.

"Didn't like seeing you so dressed up for some other guy, baby. Made me feel so lonely," he says, fingers picking up in speed. You'd honestly forgotten about that guy, the only person on your mind that whole time being Izuku. The one who was fucking you so good right now.

"'M really s-sorry. Promise he was a j-jerk. 'M never gonna talk to him again. Only want you," you choke out, pussy clenching tighter around his digits. 

"You gonna cum?" he asks, fingers thrusting harder, faster. He smiles when you nod your head, coaxing you through every moment. His hand holds you steady when your legs twitch, his guidance being the only thing keeping you from smashing your head onto the counter.

He lets you catch your breath before he moves again, kneeling between your legs to lap at your juices. Not a single drop going to waste. 

Your legs are bound by the material around your ankles, wetness collected at the base. It was even better than he could've imagined.

His tongue trails along your neck, open and wet kisses moving up to your ear as he frees himself from the confines of his pants.

He was bigger than you'd imagined. His cock grazes his stomach, small beads of precum sitting on his tip. A faint blush grows on his cheeks when he notices you're staring.

"'M gonna put it in now," he says, lining himself up with your entrance. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

When you nod your head, he pushes in slowly. His tip disappears, and then the midline of his cock. He doesn't get to continue at this pace, though; the feeling of your hips pressing back against him forcing him to bottom out.

Your eyes shut at the sensation, a faint burning feeling mixed with absolute pleasure.

"So needy for me, hm?" he asks, slowly picking up the pace with his thrusts. He watches the way your ass collides against his hips, the base of his cock disappearing each time. You're clearly not in the right headspace to give him a verbal answer, mouth agape, cheeks pressed against the cold marble. Small puddles of drool collecting on your face. The only thing you can do is nod your head, before you're moaning again. Your hole squeezing around him after each thrust.

Your arms flail, searching for anything to keep you grounded as his thrusts get harder, deeper. Izuku, ever the gentleman, takes hold of them. Both of them held in one of his hands, crossed tightly behind your back. His body leans over yours, dark green hair tickling your ear. When he's this close, you can hear everything: the small moans when you tighten around him, the way he tuts as he watches the tears flow down your cheeks.

"Do you know what I was thinking about when I had your panties around my cock?" 

You groan, arms resisting against him as you try to cover your face. He was so close, lips just a whisper away from yours, his thrusts unrelenting against your hips.

"Ah, fuck."

"Yeah? You wanna know what I was thinking about? Need you to answer me, princess."

You turn your head to face him, tears glossing over your eyes as you look into his.

"Was thinking about how - fuck, how perfect you'd look on my cock. And what you'd look like walking around with my cum between your legs."

Your eyes squeeze shut, the overstimulation of it all pushing you to your climax. You can tell by the small stutter in his hips that he's close to, his dick hitting depths just short of reach before.

"Please, baby. C-can I cum inside? Need to. Need you so bad." 

Your small moan of approval is lost in the sound of his groans. His head thrown back as he thrusts deep into you, fearful of the idea of a single drop going to waste. 

Your legs are shaky, the feeling of his body against your back being your only solace. Warmth flows throughout your body, small drops of cum dripping onto the material beneath you. The once dark coloured fabric is now painted with spots of white.

Hesitantly, he looks at where your bodies connect, the sight making his eyes shut, reluctantly pulling out of you before he starts something he's not sure will ever end. He takes to his knees again, face aligned with your heat. He watches as his fluids seep out of you in globs.

His hands reach for the panties by your ankles, dragging them up until they cover your ass. 

You whine at the feeling, the cold substance mixing with the heat of your pussy.

It was just too good.

He presses a small peck to the damp part of the clothing, pulling your dress down to cover it. He laughs when you don't move, body seemingly frozen against the countertop.

"Hey. Still with me? " he asks gently, arms moving to pull you up. He's startled when your legs almost give out, body fully resting in his arms. 

After opening a few doors, he finds your room, your body resting comfortably in his hold. He places you down gently before flopping on the bed next to you, an arm draped lazily across your chest. 

For a moment, neither of you speak. A comfortable silence taking over the apartment.

Your fingers toy with the waistband of his shirt before you glance at him.

"…So," you say quietly, "how long have you been stealing my underwear?"

His eyes shut for a moment as he lets out a small breath, like he's been anticipating this question all day.

"So you knew?"

"I had my suspicions. But when I saw my favourite pair in your pocket, it kind of sealed the deal." You laugh, turning your body to face his. Your eyes squinting in discomfort as you remember the substance between your legs. "'M gonna need those back by the way, they weren't cheap."

"Yeah … I'm not sure you can wear those anymore," he smiles, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips.

You blink at him slowly, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling inside you.

"Oh, Izuku … you're lucky you're cute."

a/n: yayy pervy izuku is here. i'm thinking if this does well i'll make one for bakugou cause i've already got some thoughts! Also this is not proofread yet, I'm so tired. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, mwah! 💋

[nearlytrue]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ── ❀ part one. university au!

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ is so mean. he makes you cry, spits out venomous insults when you try to get too close, but you're so in love with him that it doesn't even matter.

⋆ tw / cw (18+) note that if tags don't show up it will show up in the next part! ; dumbification, slight angst, hurt/comfort (??), smut, praise & degradation kink, slight angst, missionary, katsuki fucks reader in his lap, blowjob, cum-eating, pussy eating, size-kink (unedited).

ac; lapin (hegi)

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ was horrible to you. you knew that the day you made the grave mistake of loving him, confessing to him.

high school, late afternoon with golden rays spilling through tinted windows. your heart in your throat as you stumbled and blabbered through your well-prepared confession you'd rehearsed a hundred times in your tiny bedroom. you didn't even finish before he laughed.

a sharp, incredulous chuckle that echoed off the walls and rank through your ears.

"you serious?" katsuki scoffed, lips curled handsomely in disbelief. "that's pathetic."

you stood there, frozen, as he cocked his head and stared you up and down like he was reassessing something he'd already thrown away.

"get a grip," he added flatly, briefly scanning his phone for whatever was on his schedule. "you really thought you had a chance?"

when katsuki disappeared from your sight, you couldn't control the molten tears pouring down your face. 

from that moment on, you were no longer invisible in the eyes of katsuki bakugo.

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who was insufferable. you should have never confessed to him.

he was smarter than you. smarter than anyone for that matter. he was involved in many extracurriculars. he was good at drums, and you knew that he done boxing outside of school. 

and you to him? wouldn’t have made any sense, and that feeling became apparent even more with time. 

he singled you out in class when you tried impressing katsuki. 

"the answer's 147.19!" you called out eagerly, heart thumping wildly against your ribs.

a scoff was heard from the front corner of the room.

"wrong, dork." he shot you an amused look, as if you'd actually believe you'd done something right. "it's 150."

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ didn't need to utilize brute force to crack your heart. on the day university applications were sent out, katsuki caught sight of yours.

"yuuei university?" he repeated, brows lifting softly. "mechanical engineering?" then, he laughed. it was breathless, disbelieved, as if you'd just told him the joke of your life.

you stood beside him, fingers curling into the fabric on your sleeve, smile gentle on your face as he slung a bag over his shoulder.

"did you just pick the hardest major you could find to sound impressive?" he asked lazily, eyes racking over yours. "or are you actually that delusional?"

you went home crying that afternoon, snot dribbling down your nose as you stared at the low-scores on your practice exam. he was right. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ had a way of making doubt blossom where confidence once lived comfortably in your gentle, fragile heart.

even after you were accepted — after the acceptance email sat glowing on your screen like genuine proof he was wrong, that you'd fought through finals for this spot — it wasn't enough.

on orientation day, he'd spotted you sticking out like a thumb in the crowd, all pretty in the softest, ironed skirt you could find, paired with the glossiest shoes you could muster.

"tch," he muttered, eyes flickering back to the front, already surrounded by a group. "guess they're letting anyone in these days."

you told yourself it wouldn't matter — that high school was over. that maybe your relationship with him could blossom from what had already been wilted. a clean slate.

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ made sure university was worse.

he had the same sharp eyes, silver rimmed frames hanging handsomely on the slope of his nose bridge. same posture of ownership, like he belonged in every room he entered.

he laughed when you asked questions with solutions that already seemed to register to those around you. took over group discussions without acknowledging your presence. corrected you publicly, voice sharp and precise.

"don't touch that. do you even know how to use it?"

"no, that's not how it works."

"did you even pass high school physics?"

every insult landed heavier because you knew why, because he remembered your confession just as clearly as you did; with the only existing mystery being why he took it so personally?

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ nearly exploded, brows furrowing, lips curled into a menacing scowl when both of your names appeared side by side on the same group project list.

"you've gotta be kidding me," he snapped to himself, before turning to the tutor, eyes narrowed. "i'm not—"

denied.

for his excellent mid-semester results, his prevailing intelligence spreading like wild-fire across the cohort, the one known for increasing the threshold of the bell-curve, the one who always knew what he was doing. he had no authority.

by the end of the week, he was sitting across from you in the study room, laptop open begrudgingly, eyes lidded in disbelief as he skimmed your calculations.

"...wow," he said quietly. "you're still this bad?"

you swallowed, shaking your head with a soft curl to your lips, cheeks flushing. "no— well, this stuff's just new and hard... i'll get used to it."

he leaned back, legs spreading in those black-washed baggy jeans, lips curling into that familiar grin of annoyance.

"better not fuck up my grade, yeah?"

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who absolutely loathed dusty afternoons spent at his cafe – the one he ran to when libraries felt too loud, the one he resided in when quiet rooms retched of sweaty underarms on sizzling hot days. 

he fucking hated it, seeing you across from him in that leather cushioned chair, legs crossed politely as you stared at him with those gentle, understanding eyes. he hated how you raised your head everytime he spoke, or when your eyes would shrink into kind crescents when he had an idea that was so ordinary to him, but to you, sounded like the most intriguing thing ever. 

“...that’s a really good idea, katsuki,” you beamed, fingers moving rapidly across your keyboard to note the idea down. “i can do that for you– yeah! that’s looking great.”

“bakugo,” he corrected coldly, eyes locked in on the way your face flushed cherry plum red. 

with a scowl, he had no other choice but to cooperate. atleast you weren’t slacking off. god, that might’ve been the bare minimum of the task, but there was nothing else he could do. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ really hated that the cafe became routine. 

he hated that it started feeling inevitable – the sun slipping low and staining the windows with warm amber while the air inside stayed cool and dim. he hated that the barista stopped asking for his name – because he never used to order drinks – and he hated it even more that they already knew yours. 

he sat across from you for the nth time that week, wondering why such a group project required this much contact time. his shoulders were tense with irritation, fingers wrapped tight around a paper cup he’d already forgotten to drink from. 

and the way you leaned slightly forward in that leather chair, posture performatively neat and attentive. it made his skin itch. 

because you always listened, brows lifted in consideration of every syllable that dripped from his tongue. 

and the way you nodded before he even finished, fingers already moving, typing things out with a quiet diligence. it pissed him off.

did you think that just because you followed him like a puppy, obeyed every single call he made, listened to every idea he had, that it’d be enough? 

“you don’t have to write everything down,” he muttered once, gruff, irritation slipping into his tone. “i’m not gonna forget what i just said.”

you looked up at him then, blinking once with wide eyes, a little smile tugging at your lips once more. “i know. it just helps me think, too.”

he clicked his tongue, gaze flickering away. there were only thirty minutes left and he’d be free. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ noticed when you started getting too comfortable. 

you didn’t feel the need to look at him for validation anymore before adding your share of ideas to the shared document. you didn’t hesitate before suggesting alternatives, and sometimes you’d speak first – softly, still, but with a steadiness as if you’ve finally made your mark into his life.

“what if we approach it from this perspective instead?” you suggest one afternoon, voice a little wavery, but bright. 

he glanced over your logic, the calculations, your assumptions. it actually made sense. 

“hm,” he grunted after a moment, genuinely considering your perspective before leaning back. “fine. do it your way.”

and that pathetic, stupid smile of triumph? 

something ugly spread thick across his chest, invasive. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ absolutely couldn’t stand that you still treated him the same. 

still with that soft greeting, still following him like a lost puppy to shared destinations. still glanced at him with hopeful eyes when something amused you, like his reaction was validation to whatever soft and mushy feeling you keep safe in your chest. 

one evening, as the cafe began to filter out, he caught you staring at him without realizing it – eyes warm, thoughtful, full with admiration. 

“what?” he groaned out, elbows perched defensively across his chest. 

you startled, cheeks blossoming, you shook your head quickly. “oh– nothing, sorry.”

katsuki hated how he could practically feel your affection oozing into him, untarnished and full of life. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ went home angry that night. angry at the way your competence crept up on him. fuming at the way your kindness hadn’t soured, but instead sweetened into something contagious. he hated that you’d actually grown into someone worthy of his time and effort without shedding the parts of yourself he’d once mocked.

he was angry because it was actually fucking getting to him. you in his routine. 

everything cruel he’d said to you was no longer about superiority, and it was now becoming something laced with fear and inner insecurity. 

once he found himself at his desk, papers laid clean in front of him with precision, thoughts filled with your soft smile and your polite hands, he glanced down uncomfortably, noticing the strain in his sweats. unexpected.

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who gave in eventually to his erection, fingers wrapped tight around his cock, tip raging a warm pink as he pumped himself from tip to brim. 

with his head thrown back, jaw slack, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. every time he tried thinking of something else to get off to – the image would swirl to you instead. all pretty across from him, soft lips caught between your teeth in concentration, that low cut top you wore one time, sunlight pooling on your skin. 

with a reluctant vacant hand, he swirled a palm over his tip, panting softly and fogging his glasses up. he couldn’t fucking believe he was jerking off to you. getting off to you. fucking fisting his cock to you and cumming everywhere.

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who was more snappy than usual. 

this time, it was in that low, condescending, venomous tone. laced with hatred and everything on that spectrum. 

it happened on a night at the cafe that felt too quiet – just the two of you, warm auburn lights of the city stretching across the glossy tabletop, your notebooks and laptops open and untouched. 

you were smiling pathetically again, practically sneaking into something far from strictly educational. you were genuinely trying to talk about something other than the group project, absentmindedly tracing circles in the margin of your page, glancing at him like the world had finally softened. 

he hated it so much. he hated how easy it was for you. hated how you got too comfortable that you genuinely thought he cared what you had to blabber about.

“stop staring at me,” he said suddenly, annoyed. 

you paused, fingers still around your cup. “i wasn’t–”

“yeah, you were.” his voice was flat, sharp and intentionally crude. “you always do.”

your smile faltered for the first time in a while, just a little. “i’m sorry, i didn’t realize–”

katsuki, with cold movements, closed his notebook. “that’s the problem,” he grimaced. “you never realize anything.”

the words landed wrong, awfully wrong. but he didn’t care in that moment, because of how uncomfortable he was emotionally. 

at his words, you straightened slowly, fingers curling into themselves. “uh… what do you mean?”

he scoffed, sinking back into his chair, arms crossing. “you follow me around. you nod along. you look at me like i’m” he stopped himself, jaw tightening, consciously selecting the most harmful combination of words. “like i’m something i’m not. like i’m just a figure in that delusional head of yours.”

your throat bobbed, face warm, eyes still present despite his words. “i just… like being around you.”

that softness, that consistent prying into his chest, his mind. that, was what pushed him over. 

“that’s stupid,” he said coldly. “fucking stand up for yourself for once. you should know better by now.”

this time, you didn’t know how to respond. just plain, cold, silence. 

the cafe noise faded into a deafening dull hum, and all you could do was stare at him, eyes wide, like you’d been slapped. 

“...just thought things would play out different, is all,” you whispered, lips tilting to a frown. 

he laughed once, bitter. “don’t flatter yourself.”

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ watched your face crumble in real time. 

your eyes glossed over first, lashes fluttering as you tried – tried so hard – to keep it together. your lips parted like you wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. 

it didn’t take long for the tears to fall. 

“i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you said, voice wobbly, syllables messy. “okay– i’m sorry. i’ll try to stop, i promise.”

you were already standing, gathering your things with trembling hands, wiping at your cheeks like you were embarrassed to be seen like this – and not like the other times you were embarrassed to display your admiration and affection. 

“i’m sorry,” you choked out again, indefinitely softer this time. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ didn’t go after you. 

he watched you leave – watched the door swing shut behind you, watched the space you’d occupied stay empty – and then he sat back down like nothing had happened. like he hadn’t just made you cry. again. 

it was better this way, he told himself. distance was what you needed, what he needed. the feeling in his chest would die down on its own. it’d rot into something forgettable. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ he avoided you like the plague from then on.

he left quickly before you could reconcile, opting to take different exits from buildings, sat a few seats away instead of beside you. when group work forced you into the same space, he kept things curt and professional. 

no venomous insults, no malicious teasing laced with condescension. 

you noticed. of course you did. you always did. 

katsuki realized something scary and unsettling. nothing was going to change when it came to you, and how you felt about him. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ hated the way you still showed up. 

you still smiled at him when you spoke to him, but this time, it was careful now. practiced and methodical. you were measuring every word before letting it leave your mouth. 

you lived true to your words. 

you didn’t hover annoyingly around him, didn’t look at him like you used to. and things were finally settling back into natural order. katsuki never felt more relieved. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who caught you wiping your eyes in the engineering hallway one afternoon – quick, discreet, like you didn’t want anyone to see. 

and of course, he didn’t turn around to comfort you. if he didn’t, he knew exactly what would happen. 

you’d shove your face into his chest, all mushy and fragile. then, he’d have to say something. he’d have to push you away, or even worse, pull you closer. and you’d look up at him regardless with hope, trust, and that quiet, delusional belief that he cared.

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ noticed you at the cafe before you noticed him.

you were already seated when he arrived — same leather chair, same corner with that practiced straightened posture — but you looked off. your shoulders held stiff like you were bracing for something, almost too hinged. your eyes were dull around the edges, spark forced as you stared at the screen in front of you with an intensity that didn’t quite land.

your fingers flew across the keyboard, typing and deleting, typing again. you nodded to yourself every few seconds like you were convincing yourself to even stay awake. 

katsuki recognized it instantly. fake concentration, performative.

“…great,” he muttered, dropping into the chair across from you. “you gonna actually look at me or keep pretending you’re busy.”

you startled slightly, then smiled, the motion not quite reaching your eyes. 

“sorry,” you said, laughing softly. “yeah. i’m here.”

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ watched you struggle through the session.

you answered when spoken to, contributed when needed, but your responses lagged by just a second too long. you rubbed at your wrists absentmindedly, nails pressing into your skin. 

you laughed when he made a sharp comment. laughed when he mumbled to himself about something. it was still you, all attentive, but something about it was uncanny. 

“…what’s up with you.” he asked eventually, irritation threaded with his workload.

you nodded immediately. “yeah, i’m sorry. just tired, long day.”

he scoffed, but his eyes narrowed.

liar.

he didn’t see you again that night.

you packed up quickly when the work ended, mumbled something about needing to go, and disappeared before he could say anything else. the chair you left behind stayed empty long after he finished packing his own things.

something twisted unpleasantly in his gut.

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ wasn’t prepared for the next day that you came in, practically bawling your eyes.

you were late, and you were never late.

he was already seated when you stumbled into the cafe, breathless, eyes rimmed red like you’d been crying for hours. your hands shook as you clutched your bag, knuckles pale, movements uncoordinated.

“…you’re late,” he snapped automatically.

you opened your mouth, closed it, then your face crumpled, brows knitted together devastatingly.

“shit—” he started.

you were crying before you even sat down. your shoulders shook as you pressed a hand to your mouth, trying—and failing—to keep it together.

“hey,” he said sharply, standing up. “what the hell—”

you dropped into the chair like your legs had given out, tears spilling freely now, breath stuttering, words coming out in messy blabbles. 

“i– i think i did something really bad,” you choked out, fingers shaking. “i really messed up.”

“what?”

your hands trembled as you wiped at your cheeks, smearing tears uselessly. “i— i got scammed.”

the words tumbled out broken, ugly, cracking on each vowel.

“the tutor,” you continued, voice cracking. “he took the money and— and he said i wasn’t improving fast enough and then he just— he ended it. and i thought i was doing okay but i’m not and—” you sucked in a sharp breath, glancing up at him beneath your clumped lashes. “i’m failing,” you whispered.

“…failing what,” he asked, dangerously calm.

you shook your head, sobbing. “the math. i tried so hard to catch up but i didn’t realize how bad it was until i checked my grades and i don’t–- know what to do.”

your hands clenched into fists in your lap.

“i didn’t want you to know,” you said softly. “i didn’t want you to think i was useless– so– so...”

something cold snapped into place behind his eyes, something green swirling in his gut.

“you got a tutor.” he said flatly.

you flinched, nodding. “yeah—”

“you let some asshole take your money,” he continued, voice low. “when you could’ve just– nevermind..”

you nodded, tears dripping onto the table. “i was scared– not of you, but of failing...”

he dragged a hand down his face, breathing slow and controlled. of course, why would you come to him? a day ago he wouldn’t have offered you help if you even asked. 

but with your pretty lips jutting out, tears bubbling in those soft, sad rounded eyes. cheeks blotchy and puffy. 

he wouldn’t go as far to call the feeling inside him pity, but maybe something else… adjacent.  

“…how much were you scammed.”

“like around… sixty per session.”

his jaw clenched. “fucking sixty? and you’re still failing?”

you nodded again, miserable, shoulders curling inwards.

“…right,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, completely aware of the situation he was about to put himself in.

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ took it upon himself after that.

not with an apology, god no. he didn’t ask if you wanted help — he told you, blunt, final, like it was already decided, that he’d take over. free of charge. your notes migrated back into his hands, hidden scrutiny behind his gaze as he mulled over your handwriting. 

before you knew it, your schedule quietly rearranged itself around late nights and earlier mornings. he started bringing printed past papers without explanation, circling questions with a pen and shoving them toward you like it was obvious you’d need them.

he was still rough around the edges, that was to be said without a doubt.

he still snapped when you took too long. still scoffed when you made careless mistakes, annoyance simmering beneath his skin as you asked the nth stupid question of the night. but the insults dulled — caught behind clenched teeth, swallowed down with sharp exhales. he learned when to pause, when to bite down his venomous words. when to start again slower, how to navigate your mind. when to grit through explanations instead of cutting you down.

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ found himself in your room more nights than he’d planned instead of the cafe.

sitting on the edge of your bed, papers spread messily between you, his shoulder brushing yours every time he leaned in to point something out. it wasn’t intentional at all.

the room was quiet except for the scratch of pen on paper, the hum of your cheap, rip-off lamp, your soft voice reading questions aloud.

sometimes it was past midnight before he noticed. and he hadn’t known why he bothered staying.

but, somewhere in between those late nights, he noticed the way your confidence rebuilt itself. the way your questions sharpened, the way your eyes lit up when you got something right. the way your hands stopped shaking when you wrote, all bubbly and enthusiastic whenever he spoke.

in a way, it was really getting to him, but this time, it seeped. bleeded through the stubbornness in his heart. because at night once he returned back home, he found himself once more, hand wrapped firm around his cock, fisting himself to the thought of your pretty face. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ watched you after the exam. he’d finished early and expected to leave immediately. 

you burst out of the building breathless, faster than he’d expect, eyes bright, searching the crowd until you spotted him. the moment you did, you didn’t hesitate — you ran straight into him, arms around his middle, laughter spilling out as you told him how good that exam felt. 

he froze for half a second, arms catching you without thinking. uncomfortably and disgustingly invasive, your joy hit him harder than any achievement ever could. he couldn’t help but push down that pride he felt knowing it was him – not the other pathetic tutor. not anyone else – who helped you. 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ didn’t plan to be in your room that afternoon.

it was supposed to be quick, final edits, finishing touches on the group project then everything would be over. nothing more, just a quick drop by to save you the hassle of getting home so late.

but the air felt different, closer. and it seemed like you noticed it too, or maybe it was you making it that way.

you lingered near him longer than necessary. your touches were ‘accidental’ until they weren’t. a soft peck to his cheek — hesitant, testing, appreciative and slow — that made his breath hitch and his patience finally snap. 

“thanks for… dealing with me.”

it just happened…

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ never said when the line blurred, nor in that moment did he care. only that somewhere between tutoring sessions, late nights, and watching you believe in yourself again — he stopped pushing you away, because in that moment – with your breasts spilling through your top, eyes staring up at him like you fucking wanted him inside – he had no restraint. 

it felt inevitable, like it had always been heading there, and soon enough…

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who was so fucking easy.

he has you bouncing like a rabid bunny all over his cock, up and down, slamming your hips right down onto his pelvic bone, pants fogging up his crooked rims.

grip tight on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh like he's claiming every inch of you as his personal fucktoy. each upward thrust met with your frantic bounces has you mewling into his mouth, ass slapping against his thighs as he took you on your bed. 

he didn’t know where the degradation came from, and where it stemmed from, but the way you looked on his lap so fucking slutty and desperate like you’d finally won had him seething whimpered through parted lips.

“fucking look at you,” he sighed out, his voice mocking and pitched a little higher than he’d intended, eyes locked on the way your tits pressed against his chest. “always wanted this, huh? my cock inside of you?”

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who embarrassingly swells inside of you, his thick shaft spreading you wide, pounding deep into your gummy walls with every slam of your hips.

it doesn’t take long for his balls to tighten. 

you felt so good– too good. his vision blurred, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he let you bounce all over him. he was getting close, so fucking close. 

the friction felt incredible, warmth engulfing him whole as you let out a needy whine, whispering affection into his ear. 

“s–so close, suki! i can’t…!”

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who senses your rhythm faltering, thighs aching as you struggled to maintain your bounces. 

pulling back, katsuki’s eyes scanned over your expression. parted lips, teary eyes, flushed warm cheeks. 

“need…need to cum!” you cried out, your bounces turning into lazy, tired grinds.

the sight pitiful, his expression softened just a fraction, hips moving deliberately to compensate. with two beefy arms, he wraps them around you, lifting you up, then slamming you down to the hilt. 

“aah! f–fuck! ‘m close, i’m–”

your whining into his neck, blabbering and completely drunk on his cock. so soft in his arms, pliable and needy. with a free hand, he strokes your back almost tenderly, mind swirling with lust as he inches closer and closer to his own climax. 

“i’m close to… fuck, you feel so good–”

and with that, you cum instantly, thighs shaking around his side. you twitch in his hold, a loud cry escaping your lips as you clench impossibly around him. 

“holy shit, y-you’re so fucking tight– did you just?”

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who absolutely registers you’ve got a praise kink. 

should’ve been obvious by the way your eyes sparkled every time he validated your working out, or that one time he caught your thighs pressing together when he said ‘good’ to some mediocre, bare minimum, correct solution you conjured together. 

he hated how much power he had over it, but at the same time…

“that’s right,” he muttered, glancing over your working, leaned over your shoulder. “you did that part clean.”

you froze, then smiled. that faint, soft glimmer in your eyes. 

“...yeah?” you asked. 

he frowned, seeing the way your cheeks heated up, body tense. “yeah. don’t make me repeat myself.” 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ who realizes he’s just as filthy are you are.

he doesn’t remember, or know how the line blurred, but somewhere along the way his usual degradation faded into sweeter, honeyed words. 

without meaning to, his words turned into frequent physical touches. a hand on your shoulder. a hand moving up your thigh. and before he knew it, he was craving what you’ve been wanting for a long time. 

nights dedicated to study turned into quiet, muffled whimpers, legs intertwined, cum spilling everywhere. 

he should feel ashamed that the measly girl who had a crush on him since high school had finally gotten her way. 

“you fucking like that?” katsuki groaned out, thumb pressed against your clit as he hammered into you in missionary. “like having my cock inside of you? taking care of you like this?”

“mmhmm! i–i like it so much!” you cried out, nibble hands moving to his jaw, pulling him into a kiss. “i like you so much…”

worse of all? katsuki would selfishly sink in it. indulge in it, feed into your soft affection. 

“you do?” he smirked, hands moving to press your knees to your ears. “i can tell…doing so good for me, aren’t you?”

expectantly, and intentionally on katsuki’s end, he’d feel you clench around him, walls fluttering on his cock as he kissed that soft gummy spot inside of you.

“ngh mhm! just for you…” 

♡ ɴᴇʀᴅꜱᴜᴋɪ realized he liked threading sweetness into your ears.

it came as habit, and something he genuinely wanted to do. he was growing fearful that he was truly basking in your presence, and that one day, he’d actually want something more. 

he wasn’t too sure if he had the time or effort to invest in you fully like this.

but for some reason, fucking you senseless in his arms and keeping you well–lit under the cafe lights felt easier than chucking a label on top. 

꒰taglist! ♡ ꒱; @mariinktg @solozxo @rednicotine @dotalicious @peachiezz @gotaradiobutmightneedahead @sia7666 @solarquartzz @txntcleswhxreuwu, @dotalicious @rosesforblues @mochiiks @lonelyfooryouonly @mooncherrix @poptxrts @katscherry @r1qka @girlyglues @vynn01 @mrsicon @thearcaneenthusiast @katscherry

꒰ note: typed on my phone. so sad to go back to uni tomorrow. so tired from working. so tired at the thought at going to uni, and everything lol

[darkkissdiary]

when i discovered i could read stories about having sex with my fictional husbands

[hopeful-recoveryy]

From one Gen-Z to another, let’s continue to deprogram ourselves from the idea that 30 is old and you need to have your shit together before 30.

You can go back to school after age 30!

You can fall in love after age 30!

You can find a best friend after age 30!

You can find a passion after age 30!

You can find a job you love after age 30!

You can recover from an addiction after the age 30!

You can pursue a large goal after age 30!

You can travel the world after age 30!

You can move after age 30!

You can change your appearance after age 30!

You can ask for help after age 30!

You can make discoveries about yourself after age 30!

You can come out after age 30!

You can fix your finances after age 30!

You can be attractive after age 30!

You can fix your life after age 30!

You can do anything after age 30!

Idk what so specifically about the number 30 has bewitched so many of us into believing that means your life is over, but it’s just so far from the truth!

You have so much more time after 30 to accomplish all that you want to do.

Your life isn’t over until it quite literally is over. Stop giving yourself a deadline that doesn’t exist!

[theunsanctionedgoth]

the joy I get when my favorite fictional men are written starved, depraved, and longing for reader like it's the best thing in the world

[foragedmoonlight]

Excaliburs Geode № 48

[tteokdoroki]

izuku is so boyfriend who lets his girlfriend do anything to him in public but then has her submissive and obedient in private in this essay i will

[sems-diarie]

everyone feels so bad for him because you are certainly not the easiest partner in the world. by no means—you put izuku to work. testing his patience, the boundaries of his kindness.

just for him to touch your neck a little when you guys get home and you bend over preemptively. in anticipation.