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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆˙⟡ welcome to the girlblog

rhea 🎧🎱

9TEEN !! - she/her -

﹒₊˚ master list ﹒₊˚﹕₊˚ abt me ﹕₊˚ rules&dni ﹒₊˚﹕₊˚

created 12.31.2021

#i change my theme too much #xo sorry

gojosbf

Higuruma Hiromi — Jujutsu Kaisen Season 3 Episode 8

mariasont

1 year + 4k celebration event

when: march 30 – april 5, 2025 tags: #mariasspringbreakgetaway #mariaversegetaway

text message thread - penelope's invite - main event post

daily extras

☀️ sunday (day 1) -> maria's beach playlist - what's in everyone's bags? - bau arrival texts - airbnb listing

☀️ monday (day 2) -> bau fit check texts - beach fashion inspo magazine

☀️ tuesday (day 3) -> bau drink texts - bau drink menu

☀️ wednesday (day 4) -> bau secret admirers text - find out who your secret admirer is

☀️ thursday (day 5) -> bau social media texts - readers instagram pages

☀️ friday (day 6) -> bau texts - unsent messages

☀️ saturday (day 7) -> bau packing up texts - 1 year report

drabbles:

serosluv2

Only followed for abt 3 minutes now but OMG the amount of EFFORT AND LOVE this user puts into their fics is UNMATCHED 🩷

realcube

mean co-worker! tsukishima kei becomes sooo affectionate and praises so much when he's drunk

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

tw // inappropriate workplace relationships, slight bullying, drunken sex, vaginal, slight impact play, creampie, slight degradation, overstimulation & praise — 1.3k

he's such an asshole at work. he micro-manages everything you do and scrutinises your work to an unfairly harsh degree. he doesn't pay attention when you speak, or he just rolls his eyes and dismisses what you say. he talks shit about you behind your back but never leaves a trail so you can't report him to HR.

you didn't want to attend this stupid work night-out, if he was going to be there.

hence, it's honestly quite jarring how the night spins from laughing and having one-too-many glasses of wine with your colleuge at the bar, to you sprawled across his bed while he hits it from behind.

all your clothes have been discarded, and you're so drunk you can't remember whether you took your shoes off at his door or if you lost them during your uber ride home (during which you could hardly keep your hands off each other; the poor driver was probably mortified.)

regardless, none of that mattered now that you were collapsed on his sheets, letting his fat cock ram into your hole over and over, abusing that senisitive spot inside you. he stood at the edge of the bed, holding your hips firmly in place while he drilled into you, but he was so hammered that he was on the verge of losing balance with each rough thrust of his hips. the only way he could steady himself was by leaning forward, so his chest was against your back and his body is pressed closely against yours.

#OH MY GAWDDD #nah this is nasty #I love it #I love u mean kei

harpyhush

I dont want Matthew gray gubler, I don't want prison reid, I dont want REID, i want spencer. Baby Spencer who stutters, baby Spencer who avoids eye contact, baby Spencer who falls asleep pretty asf, baby Spencer who gets interrupted mid rant, baby Spencer who has 0 experience with women.

I also kindof want reid, shut up

#SPEAK ON IT #so many ppl make him this dominating #rough man but no.#my Spencer gets nervous and stutters and rambles

mrshargreeves

missing early seasons criminal minds </3

i don’t know what happened

sincerelybubbles

⋆｡°✩ criminal minds ⋆｡°✩

°✩ back to general masterlist °✩

→ || s. reid || it wasn't meant to be this way (angst) || pt 1 || pt 2 ||

→ || s. reid || it's a date (fluff) || pt 1 || pt 2 ||

→ || s. reid || i've noticed you

→ || s. reid || mouthful of sunlight (18+ MDNI)

→ || s. reid || spineless (18+ MDNI)

→ || s. reid || the being (un)known

→ || s. reid || quiet night at home

→ || s. reid || waking up

→ || s. reid || arguments

→ || s. reid || don't shut up

→ || s. reid || i love you

→ || s. reid || sweet daydreams

→ || s. reid || sleepless

→ || s. reid || the being (un)known

→ || s. reid || weightless

→ || a. hotchner || firsts

→ || a. hotchner || crawling through your window

→ || e. prentiss || breathtaking

♡ shy!bau!reader ♡

→ || a. hotchner || shy reader || first date || pt 1.5 || dinner and delights || dinner afterthoughts || reader takes down an unsub || first kiss || getting comfortable (slipping into the light)

♡ bubbly!bau!reader ♡

→ || s. reid || everywhere you touch || alarms || an ode to quiet mornings ||

buy me a coffee

bloomness

so we all agree denki would say “mama” the same way beast boy does right

bowtiepasta-deactivated20260309

hanta sero going from the little boy down the street who helped you find your way home in the new neighborhood, to your first friend in middle school, to your first kiss in high school, to the one who teached you how to french inhale, to your emergency contact in college, to the best man at denki’s wedding; staring at the very familiar—very cute, maid of honor.

“you’re ogling again,” kaminari snickers, swirling his drink like he’s even remotely classy, tie tugged loose and eyes gleaming. “real subtle, romeo.”

sero hums, eyes not peeling away from the petal covered lawn, where you’re talking to jirou’s little cousin, crouched so your heels don’t completely sink into the grass. still wearing that scruffy old varsity jacket over your dress. his varsity jacket.

“she steal that from you?”

“it’s not a big deal,” sero says, but he’s smiling ear to ear. crooked and tipsy and head over heels.

mina drops into the chair next to him. “you’ve got the same look on your face you had when she agreed to be your stand-in valentine freshman year.”

“that was a big day,” he mumbles.

tentypos

“charge it to the game”

thursday 17:34

motive; katsuki's place for after class study sesh hopefully some munch, i'm fucking starving

“yknow your flat smells like wet concrete and leftover kebab.”

📎 ⋆ 🗒️ ⋆ 📐 ⋆ 🖇️

katsuki walks fast.

you’ve known this since first year — back when you still tried to match his pace and ended up winded before you reached the library. you don’t bother anymore. now, you just lag half a step behind, headphones in, volume low, pretending you’re not jogging to keep up.

the sun’s gone down, but the city’s still loud. it always is this time of year — spring has that kind of manic energy where everything’s blooming and breaking down at once. someone’s blasting jungle out of their car a street over. someone else is yelling into their phone on the corner. a fox darts across the road like it’s late for a date.

katsuki doesn’t blink at any of it. just keeps walking, black hoodie pulled tight over his head, tote bag slung over one shoulder, full of god knows what — probably resistors and rage. you don’t ask.

you stuff your hands into the pockets of your too-thin jacket and breathe deep. everything smells like rain and engine oil and wet pavement. you haven’t eaten since breakfast, unless you count a protein bar and two stolen fries off a coworker’s tray. you probably should’ve said no to this. should’ve gone home, microwaved noodles, and stared at your ceiling.

but here you are.

you follow katsuki down a cracked side street, past a half-lit corner shop and a skip full of broken furniture. he buzzes open the door to a skinny brick building that leans like it’s tired of standing. the stairwell smells like damp socks and weed. third floor, no lift. you’re already regretting this.

“you better have snacks,” you mutter as you climb.

“we got ramen and instant coffee. pick your poison.”

“bastard.”

“freeloader.”

you grin a little. it’s easy, like it always is with him. you hate this program, you hate this semester, you’re running on fumes and caffeine pills, but katsuki? katsuki’s solid. katsuki gets it.

he unlocks the flat with a keychain shaped like a tiny dumbbell. you don’t ask.

the first thing that hits you is the warmth.

the second thing is the smell — something sweet and spicy and definitely edible. maybe teriyaki? maybe weed again? could go either way.

you step in and immediately have to dodge a pair of sneakers and a skateboard by the door. the hallway’s narrow, the paint’s peeling a little, and the walls are covered in a mix of ikea prints, beer posters, and whatever ancient wifi password was scratched onto the wall in sharpie.

the whole place hums with life. messy, yes. but lived-in.

katsuki calls out, “yo,” like he lives here — which he does — and kicks off his boots.

a voice from the kitchen responds:

“living room’s free, circuit boy.”

you blink. not because the voice is unfamiliar, but because it’s smooth. like — too smooth for a guy apartment. like a voice from a better-lit life.

you follow katsuki through the flat, passing the kitchen on the way. you glance left and — yeah. that must be him.

sero hanta is in sweatpants and a tank top, hair tied up, half a joint tucked behind his ear. he’s leaning over the counter, stirring something on the stove with a chopstick. the kitchen looks like a warzone. half the drawers are open. there’s soy sauce on the ceiling. you don’t ask.

he looks up and grins like he was expecting you.

“you’re real,” he says.

you blink. “…huh?”

“we thought bakugou was making you up. y'know — the girl who actually gets his references? who doesn’t wanna punch him in the face every three minutes? mythical creature type shit.”

katsuki rolls his eyes and shoulders past you, muttering, “ignore him. he’s always like this.”

you don’t respond right away. you’re still looking at sero. he’s… weirdly charismatic. kind of golden, in that long-limbed, half-awake way. his smile looks like it could get him out of parking tickets. his collarbones are showing. you look away.

“you want a bowl?” he asks, nodding at the pot. “udon. not poisoned, i swear.”

you hesitate.

katsuki nudges your shoulder with his. “just say yes. otherwise he’ll fuckin' narrate your hunger like it’s a drama.”

“…fine.”

sero salutes. “respect.”

katsuki leads you into the living room. it’s bigger than you expect. two sofas, one held together with duct tape. a coffee table covered in mugs and usb sticks. a pile of extension cords in the corner. and, most importantly — the whiteboard wall.

it takes up the whole left side of the room.

floor to ceiling. clean, mostly. a few doodles, some equations already scribbled along the top. a reminder to buy milk. a very well-drawn diagram of a butt. you don’t ask.

you drop your bag and pull your hoodie off, already moving toward it. you feel your brain kick on, finally — it always does when there’s a whiteboard in front of you. it’s like muscle memory. like survival instinct.

“markers?” you ask.

“top drawer,” katsuki says, tossing his bag onto the sofa.

you fish them out and uncap a black one, already mapping out the structure of your project — the main components, the time estimates, the failure points. katsuki joins you after a minute, adding boxes and wires, cleaning up your mess. you’ve done this dance a hundred times before. this part’s easy.

ten minutes later, sero walks in with two bowls and flops onto the couch like he’s been about to pass out cold.

he watches you work, head tilted, expression unreadable. not judgmental — more like… curious.

you feel it. not in a bad way. just in that someone new is watching me kind of way.

“you’re intense,” he says, finally.

you glance over. “you’re shirtless.”

“i’m in my house,” he says, mouth full of noodles.

you squint at him. he smiles like it’s a dare.

katsuki doesn’t look up. “ignore him. he’s like a stray cat. if you feed him, he follows you around.”

sero shrugs. “don’t threaten me with a good time.”

you snort.

and sero finishes his noodles with the kind of grace you expect from the kinda guy who leaves the toilet seat up. he sets the bowl down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“denki should be back soon,” he says casually. “he went on a snack run. said something about craving ‘milk with vibes.’ whatever that means.”

“that means he’s gonna come back with one arizona tea, four types of gum, and like… a watermelon,” katsuki mutters, erasing part of your diagram and rewriting it neater.

you raise a brow. “denki as in denki kaminari?”

katsuki pauses. “…yeah?”

you blink at him.

“you live with denki fucking kaminari?!”

he squints. “you say that like it’s a threat.”

“you say that like he’s not the reason i almost got banned from the student club two semesters ago.”

from the couch, sero sits up straighter. “wait — no way. you were there that night? the fire escape? the traffic cone?”

you cover your face. “i thought i hallucinated that.”

sero cackles.

and you turn just as the door opens.

denki walks in backwards.

hood up, arms full of plastic bags, one headphone still in. he’s mid-story, yelling to no one: “—and i told the guy, if you’re gonna dye your hair neon green, you can’t wear orange, that’s basic color theory—”

he turns.

freezes.

blinks.

then gasps. “you!”

you point at him. “you!!”

“holy shit,” he breathes, stepping forward like you’re a unicorn in a campus hoodie. “you’re that girl who made me do tequila shots off a clipboard.”

“you’re the one who dared me to challenge the dj to a dance-off. i fell down the stairs.”

“and i carried you to the vending machines! you asked me if crisps count as medical treatment!”

“they do,” you say, totally serious.

“okay but,” denki says, shaking the plastic bags for emphasis, “tell me you didn’t eat that expired muffin.”

you’re about to answer when katsuki clears his throat so violently it sounds like a threat.

“can you not scream in my goddamn house?”

“bro,” denki says, still looking at you, “you're friends with a legend and you didn’t tell me?”

katsuki looks deeply regretful about his life choices.

you just smirk. “i can’t believe your roommate is the guy whose contacts melted off in the strobe lights.”

“they were cheap lenses!” denki protests.

sero claps once, loud. “new rule — club stories at dinner. circuits now. anddd, y/n i’m assuming you don’t mind sleeping in bakugou’s room when we marry you into this house?”

“i literally just met you.”

“so did denki, and you made him eat floor mints.”

“…that’s fair.”

someone else laughs from down the hall — a warm, real kind of laugh — and then there’s a thud, and then—

“yo!” kirishima enters like a full-body exhale. he’s towel-drying his hair, wearing gym shorts and a tank top with a bleach stain shaped like hawaii. “sorry, shower took forever, what’d i miss?”

he grins at you like he’s known you for years.

and katsuki —

katsuki, who’s been all scowls and sharp edges this whole time —

just goes:

“hey.”

like that.

just that.

but it’s soft. barely there. easy.

he doesn’t look at him, but he says it soft.

you clock it immediately.

your eyebrows rise. your mouth curls slow. you glance at katsuki.

he catches your expression and immediately growls, “don’t.”

you grin wider. “i didn’t say anything.”

“don’t think anything either.”

kirishima plops on the arm of the couch and ruffles katsuki’s hair, laughing. “he always says that. hey, what’s your name? you working on the project with him?”

you tell him. he nods along, bright-eyed. “ah, yeah, heard about you. you’re the one who threatened that TA with a soldering iron?”

“they deserved it.”

“totally.”

katsuki’s already back at the whiteboard, head down like he can ignore this entire interaction into the void.

you step beside him, marker in hand, close enough to bump his arm.

“you’re soft,” you whisper.

“i will throw you out the window.”

“you have a tone when you talk to him.”

“dead.”

“gone.”

you laugh into your sleeve, and somehow — somehow — that’s the moment you realize you might actually have fun this semester.

piedpip3rrr

Minas insta feed (pt 1 )

ka039

ATTENTION ALL GIRLS AND LADIES: if you walk from home, school, office or anywhere and you are alone and you come across a little boy crying holding a piece of paper with an address on it, DO NOT TAKE HIM THERE! take him straight to the police station for this is the new 'gang' way of rape. The incident is getting worse. Warn your families. Reblog this so this message can get accross to everyone.

something-spectacular

I will always reblog things like this, it won’t ruin your blog or the look of it, and this could potentially save a life.

PLEASE reblog this.

nogistuneobrien-deactivated2016

I have reblogged this about three times now and I will never not reblog it

eyeslikeonyx

i actually heard of this happening in atlanta not that long ago. that shit is terrifying as hell.

nici-reads-deactivated20190926

idc if it may ruin my blog look or whatever, if it means word gets out about these bastards then imma reblog x1000

sunflower-flow

reposting on my friends account

wolffuchsart

BECAUSE THIS IS IMPORTANT!

thatssorandomgirl-blog

REBLOG THE SHIT OUT OF THIS

leecantdraw

Does the MHA fandom still exist on Tumblr these days? Anyway timeskip BKDK

habken

post-431 conversation

poemeater-deactivated20250927

YOU HAVE 3 MESSAGES FROM : maki zenin x f!reader maki is typing . . . !SUGGESTIVE CONTENT, language REPLY NOW ? . . . “ i know we’re fwb but i love you… ”

rosy-hollow-deactivated20250826

Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t a man for sweet things.

That was the first thing you noticed about him when he first came into the coffee shop.

The CEO of the well known company known as Dynamight, he came in to the cafe where you worked regularly with a pretty woman you eventually came to realize was his girlfriend.

They were a nice pair, and though you felt a little guilty for it, you couldn’t help but check out the CEO himself. He had gone viral on the internet only a year ago for becoming one of the youngest successful entrepreneurs of all time, launching his spicy food globally. With striking red eyes, spiky hair that looked like it would be soft to the touch (not that you would, even though you really wanted to), and his voice, god his voice, you could go on and on about how husky and gravelly his voice was, deep and commanding, one could immediately tell he was a businessman just from his authoritative tone.

However, he was kind. You could see it in the way he always opened the door for his girlfriend, treating her with the utmost care.

They were the perfect couple.

From what you could tell, he was a man of routine. Because every single day, without fail, he’d order the same exact thing. Two medium iced americanos, one with milk, and one without. It came to the point where you’d always start off your morning by making said two cups before anything else, knowing they’d come by to pick it up anyways.

Until one day, he came alone.

He didn’t order anything this time, instead just quietly shuffling into the booth he normally took with such a hollow expression on his face it pained you as well.

You weren’t close, you and Bakugou, but seeing his gentle demeanor gone in an instant, replaced with such a cold and hard shell made your heart clench.

It was strange, though you felt fleeting moments of attraction for the man (you’d never overstep boundaries though, respecting his relationship (?) ) and yet, you…cared.

It was strange, you thought, how you frowned and told your coworker to cover for you for a few minutes, and this time, stepping out of the routine you were used to.

It was strange, not making the americano you were used to, now trying something new.

Thinking about Bakugou, and what you noticed of him from the past few months of daily coffee visits, you decided that maybe, just maybe, he needed something new too.

Adding a few ice cubes to make the coffee relent its hot temperature, you put a lid on the cup and walk over to his booth, placing it on his table.

“Here.” you say softly. “On the house.”

Bakugou looks up at you and blinks, surprised, staring at you as if he was drinking you in for the first time ever.

You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to do, internally panicking that you overstepping your boundaries.

“You looked a little, uh…downcast? I figured getting something in your system might make you feel better.” You smile gently. “I know it’s not what you usually order, but I figured a change of pace might be nice.”

Bakugou clears his throat and coughs out a thanks, under his breath. It’s not much, but you feel your heart warm all the same.

You watch as he sips it gingerly, eyes widening as he tastes the sweet flavor.

“Is this…caramel?” He murmurs, surprised.

You swallow thickly, nervous. “Yeah, I made a caramel macchiato for you..! …Do you like it?”

Bakugou smiles, a rare, genuine soft smile, as he clears his throat and takes another sip. “Yeah,s'good...I think you're right. Maybe I needed a change of pace.”

You smile warmly and look back at your coworker, who’s calling you over to help out in the kitchens.

You look back over at the blonde apologetically, his eyes still trained on you, nodding in understanding as you tell him that you’re needed elsewhere, but to not hesitate to call you if he needed anything.

As you walk away, you don’t notice the red eyes still trained on your retreating form.

Bakugou scolds himself. His ex-girlfriend had dumped him only two days ago and now he can’t get your damn smile out of his head.

When you return from the kitchen, you see Bakugou’s booth empty, save for a $50 tip and a card that reads “Call me.” with a number on it.

You can’t help but feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach, trying to tame your flustered face as you quickly pocket the money and card and rush back to your counter, now replaying your interaction with the man over and over in your head.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t a man for sweet things.

But you? You might be the exception.

A/N this was smthn i wrote for an event a while back... but i liked it a lot so repost!!

#CEO BAKUGOOOO

iheartrocketlaunchers

i need more support course reader

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