hot girl.

[sleepy-moons]

☆ hoes hate me cuz i’m the it girl…

✬ ☆ jamila, 20s, she/her, black, ko-fi. ☆ ✬

✬ thee hot girl. - about.

✬ pipe up. - asks.

✬ warning! - rules.

✬ all of it. - masterlists.

✬ recents: nanami’s stress reliever.

✬ currently: busy | active | thinkin’ bout mitsuya

this is an 18+ blog. minors/ageless blogs will be blocked.

...i aint never asked to be the shit, girl! ☆

[mewzette]

his dumb girl.

bakugou katsuki x fem reader smut | ~400 words cw: dumbification, size kink, manhandling, praise

18+ only. minors, do not interact.

bakugou loves to watch as you fuck yourself silly on his cock, drool steadily dribbling from your hung-open mouth while you bounce on his girthy dick.

each movement pushed you deeper into a bottomless pool of ecstasy, your knees threatening to give out as you slam down on him, your ankles quivering underneath your weight. when he had you like that, the only thing you could ever focus on is your need for him, the delicious fullness he provided that made your cunt weep with lust. it was such an ego boost for him, letting you tire yourself out from the overwhelming pleasure until he inevitably flipped you over, ready to abuse your sore hole himself.

bakugou never hesitated to manhandle you, large calloused hands gripping your hips to position you however he wanted, making you arch your back. you looked so beautiful; your face pushed into a pillow, your ass in the air, your cunt dripping, impatiently waiting for his large member to push inside of you once more.

the way your pussy fluttered around him when he bottomed out inside of you was addicting, your warmth tightening around his thick length. even when he could tell you were struggling to take him, you always did without a complaint. the sweet, muffled whines that escaped from your lips only motivated him to fuck you harder, the rough slapping of his hips against yours a whisper compared to your deafening pleads for more.

"mmh- please, katsuki, oh my god. i need you.. 'nd i need your dick. please," you begged, your mouth moving faster than your brain could function. your entire mind revolved around him in that moment, the satisfaction of being a good girl all you needed to take his overwhelmingly large cock. even with your brain so foggy, your core took note of every vein on his member, the familiar pressure throbbing against your insides. you clenched around him, pleasure swirling inside of your body as orgasm threatened to overcome you.

"what a dumb girl, all you need is to be fucked until you can't think, isn't that right? my personal fuck toy," he growled from behind, his hand firmly kneading your plush ass. he gripped your hair, pulling it to force you to look at him, your eyes closing themselves with each harsh thrust.

"you're such a good girl when you're fucked stupid on my cock," he smirked, releasing your hair once you let out a drawn out whine. his thrusts continued as he felt you rapidly tighten around his cock, your cunt clenching around him rhythmically as pleasure kissed frozen goosebumps onto every inch of your skin.

reblogs and other interactions are greatly appreciated <3

do not repost.

[pricegouge]

Okay look I love dacryphilia as much as the next person but I really wanna see more love interests that simply fold at the barest hint of your pathetic wet eyes. Just instant, fucking you or not. You wanna cum now, sweetheart? Okay, just stop your crying. He was being mean, wasn't he? You want him to come home? He's moving mountains as you speak. Dry your tears, honey. You want it to be official? You want a ring? Oh he's so sorry he ever made you feel like he was just killing time with you, darling. You'll go shopping tomorrow. Can't tonight, shops closed, sorry doll.

[nikkento-writes]

When you tell Nanami on the second to last day that you're staying with your grandparents overseas for the summer, he doesn't have much of a reaction. You thought the two of you had bonded quite a bit since Haibara introduced you at the beginning of the term. Nanami was always quieter, more reserved compared to his best friend, but you gradually began to pick up on his little mannerisms and subtle cues. The way he slows his pace to match yours while you eat lunch, even though Haibara always inhales his food at warp speed. Whenever you walk beside each other, whether in the hallway or on the way home, Nanami switches which arm he holds his bag so that it doesn't hit you. Your favorite is when he shares his headphones with you to listen to a song he thinks you'd like, and you always do. But maybe that's because you get to listen to it with him.

When he doesn't say much about your plans for the summer, you can't help but feel disappointed. You thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd miss you just as much as you'd miss him. It's always been wishful thinking, though. This is what you get for having a silly little unrequited crush.

The last day ends as usual, with the three of you walking home together. Haibara always leaves first as he lives the closest to the campus. He says his cheerful goodbyes and promises to keep in touch the next few weeks, leaving you and Nanami alone. You've grown used to the comfortable silence that sometimes surrounds you two. That's just one of the many things you like about him; you never feel like you need to fill the space with useless chatter. The two of you can just be happy together, like this. This is good enough for you.

You arrive to your house, ready to say farewell. "I hope you have a good summer, Nanami," you smile at him. "I'll see you in the fall."

He stands awkwardly, avoiding your gaze, fidgeting in his bag for something. When he retrieves it, he hands it over, still not looking at you. "I made this. For you."

Your heart starts to race in your chest as you reach for it, grazing his fingers. It's a CD case with a list of songs displayed on the cover. You recognize all of them, the same ones he played for you, listened with you. You hold it in your hands like a precious treasure. "For me?"

"Yeah. Something that reminds you of me. Of us." His cheeks are flushed, clearly embarrassed. But he lifts his head to meet your gaze, smiling softly at you. "Just in case you miss me just as much as I'll miss you."

[aquadenks-deactivated20250725]

Have a small soft dom Shinsou thought before I sleep <3

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” He talks softly, voice husky in that way he knows you like. He speaks gently, lets you have control, or most of it. “Hm?”

“It’s my pussy.”

“Yeah?” His hooded eyes stare up at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He’s smoked out, and so are you, but he swears that is what makes these moments that much better. There’s no background noise in his head, just him on his back and you on his lap.

“Mhm.”

“And whose cock is this?”

“It’s mine, too.”

“Yeah? This your cock?” He presses slowly into your hole, just the tip. “Fuck your cock, then, baby. Fuck your cock.”

[shibaraki]

roommates to lovers with osamu but instead of some big confession he randomly kisses you goodbye at the door as he’s leaving for work one day like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you don’t register it happened until he’s already gone and he spends half an hour sitting in his car head on the steering wheel having a crisis

[shibaraki]

osamu likes to think that unlike atsumu, he has some semblance of control over his impulses. it’s a fine art. when you softly touch his waist as you squeeze past, or dig your feet under his thigh on the couch, or lean into his side as you share the small bathroom, he can will his body still and maintain the equilibrium you’ve crafted together.

but this morning he is frayed at the seams. shadows under his eyes, sleep crusted in the corners. osamu stares back at his reflection as he combs wet fingers through his unruly hair, attempting to give it direction and fluff up the impression left by his pillow. thinking is a luxury; its on days like this that he falls back onto muscle memory, navigating his routine in a fatigue induced haze.

his gait is heavy, unsteady on his feet as he pulls his work shirt over his head, ruining the progress he had already made with his appearance. osamu can hardly find it within himself to care—because as he follows the satisfying, dull knock of a knife to the kitchen, he sees you.

the shift is immediate. pale morning sunlight pools in through the open windows and halos your silhouette. what was a stifling weight on his shoulders moments ago lightens with the warmth that spreads through his chest.

your attention is drawn away from the cutting board to where he stands in the doorway, a lazy smile curling at your lips. “morning,” you murmur, setting down the knife and wiping your hands on the nearby towel. “guessing you missed your other alarms?”

osamu opens his mouth with every intention of complaining. yet words fail him as his eyes drag over your figure—clad only in his old shirt, stretched and tattered, and a mismatched pair of socks. your thighs look soft, he thinks, and then that thought plays in an incessant loop, conjuring endless images of his face nestled between them.

“yeah—ah, shit. ‘a should probably get going,” he replies, voice thick even to his own ears. something indiscernible passes over you expression. whatever it was, you’re studying him with a look that he could only call fond, and it chases him out to the genkan.

the issue is that when his mind hasn’t yet separated the veil between sleep and reality it will steer him too close to the sun. because sometimes, when osamu is tired and the world is a buttery haze he can imagine there is more to all of this—that a future beyond being just roommates waits on the fringes, entirely within his reach.

you are standing behind him as he bends to tie his shoes, speaking to him in that gentle tone that never fails to work out the ache in his bones. “sorry, ‘samu. I really did try to wake you but you sleep like a rock. I shoulda tried more,” you ramble, taking a backward step as he gets to his feet.

he notices you’re holding a bento to your front. it’s wrapped clumsily in a blue onigiri patterned cloth. “take this,” you thrust it into his hands and flash a sheepish grin. “I know it won’t be as good as your cooking but I still wanted to do something for you”.

osamu blinks slowly. he turns the box between his hands and feels the heat seeping through. it smells good, like tamagoyaki and grilled fish. your eyes dip low, and you wring your fingers to avoid his gaze.

a calm settles over him. the longing that exists inside of himself rears to pick at the promise of more, more, more. osamu leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips, now parted slightly in shock—somehow it doesn’t feel quite as dramatic as he thinks it should. it feels normal, like maybe he was simply revisiting a dream. “thanks. I’ll make sure to savour it,” he says before kissing you again, short and chaste, lost in the moment yet conscious of his tardiness. “see ya after work”.

and then he’s ducking into the mild morning air, the bento cradled to his chest. osamu climbs into his car with a loud yawn, sets his work bag on the passenger seat and sticks the key in the ignition. the radio starts abruptly as the engine rumbles to life and he pauses, staring out the windshield at the quiet street. then it clicks into place and realisation washes over him like cold water.

“…shit,” he breathes, dropping his forehead on the steering wheel. the horn blares in one long, dragging note, playing a requiem for the utter mortification he felt. “what the fuck”

[sleepy-moons]

Hello! Seen you haven't posted in awhile just wanted to know if your ok?💖

hi yes!! i am alive and well, thank you for asking <33 i know I don’t really post anymore, but I do come in every so often to read and such. I’ve considered deleting my page, but I know there’s still folks who enjoy reading my (honestly, poorly written LMAO) fics so I’ve decided to keep her up for the time being

maybe one day I’ll get back into writing, but I feel the community isn’t quite the same, so I’m not entirely sure.

(Sorry this was kinda long winded LOL tldr; I’m living my best life, i check this hellscape every so often, i kinda miss writing, and i appreciate you checking in!!)

[sleepy-moons]

gojo constantly tells you he'd die for you. at the start of your relationship, you would kind of roll your eyes at the comment. he's so dramatic, you'd think to yourself, though you'd appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. but as time went on, and as your relationship blossomed, you began to feel a pang in your heart every time he said it.

an ache so deep in your spirit, that you could cry whenever he'd go on a mission. because you knew, that while he was fighting for a better society, for the eradication of curses and corruption, there was a large part of him that was fighting solely for you. for your safety. and if that meant he had to die for that to happen, so be it.

i don't want you to die for me. words you never thought you'd have to say to the love of your life. you want to spend the rest of your life with this man. why must he insist on showing his love in death?

he'd always give you a little smile when you'd say that, because he knows tears will be following soon after.

i know. there wasn't much more to be said after that. just a mutual understanding that a devastating heartbreak is lingering somewhere down the line, inevitable. he just hopes that in his next life, he gets to spend more time with you.

[sleepy-moons]

mila, i see you every 3 months for like a week then you disappear again 🤨 we need to have a talk because this is unacceptable 😤 (ily and missed you, babe 🫶🏾)

omg. I’m so sorry for replying to this MONTHS AFTER YOU SENT THIS IM SO HORRIBLE. I don’t have notifications on for this app and I only check it every once in a while (now being one of those times 😭). I hope you’re doing okay bby 💗💗💗💗💗

[heich0e]

“Miya-san!”

Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.

You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.

“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”

“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.

“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”

“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry for contacting you so late,” Kimura says, flinching as you slump away from him unexpectedly in your drunken stupor. Osamu is quicker to react than the younger man, stepping in and catching you in the crook of his elbow before you can go toppling off the bench onto the sidewalk. He keeps you steady.

“Don’t apologize, I appreciate ya callin’ me to come get her—and thanks fer lookin’ after her,” he says down to the younger man, who seems relieved now not to be responsible for keeping you upright. “Tell her to bring ya by the shop for a meal sometime as payback. She owes ya one.”

Kimura’s eyes widen and he shakes his head like he couldn’t possibly accept, but before he can decline the offer Osamu turns his attention back to you. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he gently pries you from your seat.

“Up ya go,” he mutters encouragingly as he eases you onto your feet.

Your eyes flutter slowly open, looking around blearily for a moment as you take in your surroundings.

“Samu?” you ask, his name slurred on your alcohol loosened tongue. You perk up noticeably in his arms once you realize just who’s holding you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take ya home, Cinderella,” he says with a light laugh as your fingers twist into the material of his sweatshirt against his chest. He looks to Kimura again, who’s also risen to his feet now. “We’ll be off, then.”

“Thank you, Miya-san!” Kimura bows deeply forward, a nearly perfect 45 degree angle at his waist.

He’s a sweet kid, Osamu can’t help but think, even if does follow you around like a puppy.

Osamu helps you down the sidewalk towards his waiting truck, then up into your seat on the passenger’s side. He makes quick work of buckling you into your seatbelt even as you squirm counterproductively, then he jogs swiftly around to his own side of the truck and climbs in behind the wheel.

Kimura waves from outside the restaurant as the truck pulls away.

“Seems like ya had fun tonight,” Osamu remarks as he drives in the direction of your home. You hadn't even wanted to attend this work gathering, but had been forced to by your director. Now look where it had gotten you.

You’re fiddling with the controls of the radio, stations crackling in and out as you switch rapidly through the channels. 

“Drank too much,” you complain, settling on a talk radio station (of all things) that seems to be midway through discussing prefectural bylaws.

“Don’t I know it,” Osamu quips in reply and you swat at him harmlessly over the centre console with a laugh.

You’re turned in your seat, your body facing in his direction, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel your gaze tracing over him, but doesn’t glance back.

“Hey,” you whisper, something conspiratorial in your tone. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure thing,” he plays along with your antics, fighting back a grin.

It’s silent for a moment—only the voices on the radio discussing trash collection to be heard. Osamu pulls up to a red light, and finally looks over to meet your gaze.

Your eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused, but they’re bright with affection.

“I have a crush on you,” you tell him with a giggle.

Osamu’s chest pangs.

The light turns green.

“Well,” he remarks, returning his gaze to the road ahead and proceeding through the intersection. “That’s good.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees your shoulders slump dejectedly. 

“I’m being rejected,” your next words are positively morose. You turn away from him and lean your body over to the side. He hears a loud thump as your forehead head hits window on your right.

“Hey!” Osamu chides you in concern, reaching out and grabbing the collar of your blouse to tug you up a little straighter. It’s not the most elegant motion by any means, but he’s fairly limited with his other hand on the wheel and his eyes still on the road.

“Owww,” you complain, rubbing your forehead weakly. You bat the hand he has clutching the collar of your shirt away. “You’re so mean.”

“How’m I mean?” Osamu guffaws beside you.

“I just confessed my love for you, and all you had to say is ‘that’s good’!” You turn your body in your seat to waggle an unsteady but judgemental finger at him. “A woman’s heart is a precious, fragile thing, y’know!”

“There’s nothin’ fragile about ya,” Osamu mutters under his breath, thinking about how much you had to drink that night as a prime example of this fact. “Yer tough as a brick wall.”

“Mean!” you jeer at him again, your mouth agape in the wake of his words.

Osamu flicks his turn indicator on before he pulls his truck over to the curb, putting it into park. You’ve stopped outside a convenience store, and when he turns to look at you, the fluorescents from inside the shop bathe you in a backlit halo where you sit in the passenger seat.

He grabs your hand. The one you still have lifted to point at him.

“D’ya see this?” he asks, holding your hand up in front of your face. The ring on your fourth finger catches in the glow of the convenience store lights.

Your eyes widen.

Osamu holds up his left hand where there’s a ring that matches your own.

“I said it’s good y’got a crush on me ‘cause we’re married, dummy.”

Your lips form a surprised little ‘o’ as your eyes flicker rapidly from the band on your finger to his own and back again. 

After a moment you grin, your eyes squeezing shut with how high your cheeks lift. “What a relief!”

Osamu is quick inside the store, just popping in to buy a vitamin drink for you and a pack of cigarettes for himself. He doesn’t smoke as much these days—you’d nag him incessantly if he did—but every so often he gets a craving, and tonight is one of those instances. 

The two of you sit side by side on the curb in front of the shop, the truck parked a little ways down the road. 

Osamu takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing in contentment with wispy plumes of smoke slipping from his lips. He peeks over at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Ya feelin’ better?” he asks.

You’ve got the little bottle of vitamin drink cradled in your hands, working your way through it slowly. You hate the taste of them, he knows that, but you’d regret it more tomorrow morning if you didn’t force it down tonight. You nod a bit, and seem to have sobered up in the time since Osamu arrived to take you home.

“This reminds me of when we first started datin’” Osamu laughs to himself. And he means it. Everything about it. Being out so late. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue. The way you keep creeping a little bit closer to him unconsciously, as though his space isn’t already yours to freely take. “I can’t believe ya forgot we’re married.”

You groan in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He bites back a grin, trying not to revel too much in your misery.

“And I’m sorry I made you come pick me up,” you mumble after a moment, taking another sip from the little bottle in your hand and wincing against the bitterness. “I planned to just take a cab.”

“It was that little junior of yours who contacted me,” Osamu laughs, lifting the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he rifles in his pocket for his phone. He holds the device out so you can see the conversation where your subordinate had commandeered your phone, remorsefully messaging Osamu asking him to come and collect you from the bar. He’d even used a funny little sticker of a bunny with tears in his eyes bowing apologetically—it bears a striking resemblance to Kimura himself. 

“That kid,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly as you rub your temple. Your eyes suddenly widen and your face snaps towards your husband. “Wh—“

“Tsumu’s there watchin’ ‘em,” Osamu laughs, reaching up and plopping a hand down atop your head. “Not that there’s much to watch since they’re in bed. He was still at the house when Kimura-kun messaged me.”

You lean into Osamu's touch as you think of your twins at home, tucked up in the little bed they share, and it makes your heart ache a little bit. You wonder if you’ll be able to creep in and give them a kiss goodnight when you get home without waking them. 

You go terribly quiet for a moment, and Osamu finishes his cigarette. He stamps it out on the curb beside him and then slips the extinguished stub back into the pack to throw into an ashtray later.

“Samu?” you call to him, your voice quiet.

He glances over at you, and sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around your knees. The anxious posture worries him.

“I didn’t forget you, I promise,” you whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”

Your husband watches as you admire the ring on your finger that reflects the streetlight overhead.

Osamu smiles to himself, scooting closer to you on the curb.

“I know,” he reassures you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. Your head naturally falls to his shoulder. Familiar and instinctive. “I was just teasin’ ya.”

You smell like alcohol. He’s sure he smells like cigarettes. You're in rumpled business casual, and he's dressed in the sweats he planned to wear to sleep. He reaches over and takes your left hand in his own—your wedding rings overlapping. And for a moment, in spite of all the ways the two of you have changed over the years and all the ways that life is different now, everything is exactly how it’s always been.

He tilts his face and presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

‘I’ve got a crush on ya too, by the way.”

[ethjayy]

Choso 🩸

[sleepy-moons]

gojo constantly tells you he'd die for you. at the start of your relationship, you would kind of roll your eyes at the comment. he's so dramatic, you'd think to yourself, though you'd appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. but as time went on, and as your relationship blossomed, you began to feel a pang in your heart every time he said it.

an ache so deep in your spirit, that you could cry whenever he'd go on a mission. because you knew, that while he was fighting for a better society, for the eradication of curses and corruption, there was a large part of him that was fighting solely for you. for your safety. and if that meant he had to die for that to happen, so be it.

i don't want you to die for me. words you never thought you'd have to say to the love of your life. you want to spend the rest of your life with this man. why must he insist on showing his love in death?

he'd always give you a little smile when you'd say that, because he knows tears will be following soon after.

i know. there wasn't much more to be said after that. just a mutual understanding that a devastating heartbreak is lingering somewhere down the line, inevitable. he just hopes that in his next life, he gets to spend more time with you.

[augustinewrites]

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

[melodramaticmatter]

Miya (palms himself while he eats you out because he's that into your taste) Osamu

[lvmimis]

cw: semi-public sex, izuku's a fucking liar a/n: a repost!

the fast, sloppy, wet and repetitive slap of skin vs skin is heard loud and clear in the dark, muting the muffled and distant music from the house party still in full swing.

izuku's in full swing too, his thrusts into you showing no signs of stopping any time soon, nudging and knocking every part of your insides as though he is anxious to make space inside you for him to stay forever. his kisses are pleasantly bruising, and equally as eager and numerous; you can barely speak through gasps and moans, the muscles of your thighs clenching around his thick waist as your body sucks him in and demands more.

breathless still, your arms wrapped around his neck, you remind him that he lied.

"y-you said you'd never done this be-" your breath cuts suddenly as he angles just slightly upwards, a calculated and deliberate move that has you seeing something - stars, god, your future? - then stills, looking down on you curiously as your soul resettles back into your physical form.

his eyebrows raise and he stops, propping himself up by his elbows as he waits for you to stop cumming and you unwittingly let out a whining sound that you never want to hear come out of your throat again.

the fact that he still says nothing, like he's unfazed, angers you even further and you resist the urge to slap him for making you look this stupid.

in one rushed sentence, you nearly hiss,

"yousaidyouwereavirgin!"

he blinks as though confused, and then as realization sets in, he laughs at your shocked expression, pulling away quickly and you use all your might to not press him back against you.

"i said i hadn't done this before," he clarifies.

"you've clearly had sex before," you snap.

he frowns. "well i mean yeah, i've clearly fucked."

the wanton way he says it as though it is meaningless, as though he hasn't just snatched your soul makes your tummy turn.

"s-so why did you lie?"

why are your teeth chattering?

"i didn't lie. i meant i hadn't had sex at a party before," he replies sheepishly.

your eyes widen, and he's not sure if you're angry or distressed, but he laughs again, raising himself over you and you swallow hard reflexively.

you miscalculated.

he dips down to kiss you, biting teasingly at your lip again as he pulls back. he looks positively demonic.

"is it okay if we keep going? i didn't cum yet."

[missmeinyourbones]

gojo is a sucker for pet names. you’re mid yelling at him like “satoru, honey, why are these dishes still in the sink when i’ve asked you to wash them four times now?”

and he’s like 💞💕💓💗 honey? 💕💗💓💞💗

[takaholic]

The "come here baby" and pulling you into their arms as soon as they see you start to tear up. The one hand smoothing over your hair while the other rubs your back. The press of their lips to your forehead as they wait for their soothing to sink in. The "you're not dumb" when you can't even put into words why you're feeling miserable.