#randoms.

[all-americanbitch]

@vampurzz and @hafuovulates4u don’t fight pls there’s enough of me to go around

[st4rbwrry]

fucking cryingggggg.

[jazthestampede]

Nighteye levels him with a stare, “Don’t take this lightly, Aizawa. I know how you—”

“How I die,” Shouta interrupts, taking a drag and letting out a bellow of smoke, “I know. You wanna tell me exactly how that happens this time?”

Nighteye’s glare could freeze lava, “I won’t. But don’t make your death come sooner than it needs to and prove my sight wrong.”

Shouta turns to leave the office, “Alright then. Sorry you’re stuck looking into my life for another,” Shouto tilts his head up to look at the clock, “Forty-five minutes.”

“Toshinori’s rubbing off on you. Just as headstrong, but less stupid.”

“He sends his love, by the way.”

“Get the fuck out of my office.”

[jazthestampede]

A deep sigh escapes their lips as they squirm under his ministrations; his beard scratching deliciously across the soft, uneven texture of their skin, lips trailing soft kisses against the irritation before he moves lower, closer to where they want him most—but he fools them, comes up for air and presses whiskey-tinted kisses against their mouth instead.

“I love you,” he breathes, his weight warm and grounding as he traps their body under his, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

They sigh softly, running their hands across his broad back—nails digging crescent moons into his shoulder blades, one trailing carefully where skin bleeds into cold, cold metal. He pushes himself up onto his knees, moving his hands from where they’d been resting high up on their ribcage down, down, down to their hips and pulling them flush against his.

“You with me?” he questions, then growls, “You hear me sugar?”

“Yes,” they groan, shivering, “I hear you.”  

[i97dante]

green x pink !!

[angel-on-fyre]

I love going through people's spotify wrapped posts and glancing through their tags. The aura thing this year was sososo cute and I love finding new music through another person's love for a song or artist!

[jazthestampede]

Humans… come in all shapes and sizes, they observe. Like this tiny, fair, waifish thing with red-rimmed eyes too big for his skull and the beginnings of 5 o’clock shadow smattered across his jaw. They can see the strenuous train of thought on his face, and the look of fond exasperation on the young, dark-skinned man’s face behind him. They tilt their head to the side, observe the nervous fidget in the waif’s hand, and conclude that they must protect these two at all costs.

“Who… hurt you?” Their voice comes out gruff, gravelly from disuse, and deep to even their own ears.  The waif jumps with a guilty look on his face. That look doesn’t belong on his face. “Tell me,” they demand, “please.”

The waif turns to the dark-skinned one and buries his face in the other man’s chest. “Tones,” he starts.

“It’s okay, Honeybear.” The waif interrupts, “Tell them. I don’t care. Not like it matters anyway.”

“It matters.” They say, “Who hurt you?” The dark-skinned one points to a sharply dressed brunette in the crowd. “Her?” The waif nods. “Okay.”

They rub their hands together, already feeling lava in their veins. They feel the skin on their arms burning, turning to ash, exposing the delicate bones underneath.

“Holy shit,” the dark-skinned one whispers. They turn to him with a smirk on their face and snap their fingers, igniting the sharp dressed girl’s jacket in a plume of flames.

The three of them watch—two faces filled with fond, if incredulous amusement, and the other with sheer disbelief.

They move toward the waif, carefully placing an already fully healed hand on their head. “No one hurts you now. I’ll protect you.”