i DO indeed want to hear about you jerking off to me and all the perverted stuff you thought of you must inform me about it expeditiously. how is it fair that you get to jerk off to me and i don’t get to jerk off to hearing about it 😒
"It doesn't taste the same," Tomura muttered, letting his spoon clatter against the table in frustration. The two of you had been trying, unsuccessfully, to recreate the ochazuke Kurogiri made for Tomura growing up.
"What about it is different?" You asked, watching the toppings swirl in your bowl. Nori, sesame seeds, chopped scallions—Those were the toppings Tomura remembered.
"I don't know," he grumbled, scratching his neck at a rapidly increasing ferocity. "Kurogiri was a high level cook, he did everything in seconds. It was hard to tell what he was putting in, or in what order. Maybe if I was a higher level, I'd understand."
"Maybe he used a different instant dashi?" You suggested. "Or a different kind of tea? We have time to figure it out, Tomura, maybe we can go to the store tomorrow and—"
"Shut up," Tomura snapped, carving deep, bloody lines into his neck. "How do you know we have time? We don't know how much time we have left! I thought I had more time with him, and look what happened! What if we don't have time? What if you die tomorrow, or the next day, and we never—" hot, angry tears began to leak from his eyes. He looked down at his clenched fists. "What if we never get to try again?"
You never knew what to say, or what to do when Tomura was like this. You understood why he had outbursts—why he cried and screamed. That didn't mean it didn't hurt when he yelled at you, or that it was any less scary.
Pushing your chair back, you made your way around the table. "Scoot over."
Wordlessly, Tomura made room for you on his chair. You squeezed into his negative spaces, resting your legs over his. It was a tight fit, made easier by Tomura wrapping himself around you. "I'm sorry," he hooked his chin over your shoulder, grasping your shirt in tight fists. "I don't wanna lose you too."
"I know," you turned to press a kiss into his hair. "You won't. I'm right here."
Slowly, his breathing evened out as you quietly played with the ends of his hair. He'd gotten a haircut recently—his first one since everything. The League. The war. It made him look boyish, the same way he did when you first met him. When he didn't look so sad. So tired.
It took a long time for him to speak again. "I miss him," he burrowed his face in your neck.
You wished there was something more you could do. Steal a time machine, raise the dead. Instead, you said the only thing you could think of, holding him tighter. "I know."
The Night Court assumes Eris Vanserra’s mate is nothing more than decoration at his side.
They learn very quickly that some females do not need to raise their voice to remind a room exactly where power sits.
Requested by @alexof90s — I hope this is close to what you were picturing! (Once again I didn't proof read this at all so feel free to let me know if there are any spelling errors!)
The first mistake the Night Court made was assuming you were decoration.
Not intentionally or obviously.
They were too polite for that.
But you saw it in the way their eyes moved over you when they entered the meeting room.
Briefly, if not dismissively.
A female beside Eris Vanserra.
Something ornamental, perhaps.
Something placed at his side to soften the image of Autumn’s new High Lord.
You did not correct them.
Eris noticed.
Of course he did.
The corner of his mouth shifted just barely.
You didn’t look at him.
“Try not to look so pleased,” you murmured.
“I am not pleased.”
“You are nearly smiling.”
“That would be unbecoming.”
“Then by all means,” you said softly, folding your hands in your lap, “continue suffering.”
Across the table, Cassian’s brows rose.
Azriel’s shadows shifted once behind his shoulders.
Rhysand, to his credit, noticed the exchange for what it was.
A warning.
Mor noticed something else entirely.
Her gaze lingered on Eris with the same familiar disdain it always held.
Cold and sharp. Nothing if not practiced.
“You’ve redecorated,” she said, glancing around the council room. “How charming. I almost forgot where we were.”
Eris did not respond.
He only looked down at the treaty papers in front of him.
You watched the movement.
The restraint it took him not to bite at her.
Rhysand cleared his throat.
“We’re here to discuss the border villages.”
“Then let us discuss them,” Eris said.
His voice was smooth.
It always was in rooms like this.
The meeting began as most meetings did.
With maps and numbers. Along with men pretending history had not shaped every inch of land they were negotiating over.
Rhysand spoke well.
You would give him that.
Azriel said very little, but missed nothing.
Cassian shifted in his chair like diplomacy physically pained him.
And Mor…
Mor watched Eris like she was waiting for a monster to show its teeth.
You let it continue for twenty-three minutes.
Twenty-three minutes of clipped words. Quiet tension. Little glances that held nothing but daggers. Along with subtle jabs dressed up as moral certainty.
The last straw was when Mor finally said, “Forgive me if I find Autumn’s sudden interest in protecting vulnerable people difficult to believe.”
Eris’s fingers stilled on the paper.
Only for a moment.
You gently set down your tea.
The cup barely made a sound against the saucer.
But somehow, the room noticed.
Mor’s eyes flicked to you.
You smiled.
Not warmly. Not cruelly. Politely.
The sort of smile court ladies were taught to wear even if swallowing poison.
“Difficult to believe,” you repeated.
Mor lifted her chin.
“Yes.”
“How interesting.”
Cassian leaned back slightly.
Azriel’s shadows went still.
Eris did not move beside you.
He knew better.
Mor’s gaze narrowed. “Do you have something to say?”
You tilted your head.
“I was deciding whether it would be rude.”
“And?”
“Oh, it’s terribly rude I’m afraid.”
Rhysand’s attention sharpened.
You turned your cup once, slow and deliberate, before looking back at Mor.
“But since we are clearly past the point of pretending this room is governed by courtesy, I suppose I might as well.”
Eris exhaled once through his nose.
Almost amused.
You continued.
“You speak of Autumn’s cruelty as though anyone at this table intends to dispute it. We do not. Autumn has teeth. It has always had teeth.” Your gaze swept briefly toward Eris. “Some of us have spent years removing them one by one.”
Mor’s mouth tightened.
“But what fascinates me,” you went on, voice still calm, “is the Night Court’s remarkable talent for selective outrage.”
Cassian straightened.
Rhysand’s face went very still.
There it was.
The shift.
The moment they realized you were not decoration.
You smiled again.
Softer this time.
“You condemn Autumn for what it allowed to happen beneath Beron’s rule. Fair. You should. But I do find it curious how rarely that same scrutiny turns inward.”
Mor’s eyes flashed.
“Careful.”
You looked at her then.
Truly looked.
“I would advise caution, Morrigan,” you said softly. “Not because I fear what you might say, but because I know what you have chosen not to.”
The room went still.
You leaned back slightly in your chair.
“Careless would be asking why the Court of Dreams feels entitled to sneer at every cruel tradition in Prythian while still ruling over the Hewn City.”
Cassian’s jaw flexed.
Azriel said nothing.
Rhysand did not look away from you.
Good.
At least one of them understood where this was going.
Mor’s voice was low. “You know nothing about the Hewn City.”
“No,” you agreed. “I know what survived the retelling.”
You tilted your head slightly before continuing
“Interesting that you speak so confidently for someone whose version of events requires several omissions to survive.”
Mor stood slowly.
“You have no right to speak to me about what I survived.”
There it was.
The part you had been waiting for.
Your smile faded.
Not because you were afraid.
Because some things deserved seriousness.
“No,” you said. “I do not.”
The room stilled.
Even Eris glanced at you then.
You met Mor’s gaze without flinching.
“What was done to you was monstrous. No one in this room should deny that. I certainly will not.” Your voice lowered. “But your pain does not make every omission holy.”
Mor went utterly still.
“You have allowed them to believe one version of the story because it is easier than dragging the whole thing into the light,” you said. “And perhaps you had reason. Perhaps silence was all you had. I will not fault a girl for surviving the only way she could.”
A breath.
Then another.
“But I will fault a court for building policy around half a truth and calling it justice.”
Rhysand’s eyes flicked, briefly, toward Eris.
Eris remained expressionless.
But his hand had shifted closer to yours on the table.
Not to stop you.
Not to guide you.
Just there.
Mor’s voice was colder now.
“And what truth do you think you know?”
You folded your hands again.
“The kind men leave out when the facts are inconvenient.”
A sad smile played on your lips.
“The kind women bury because being believed costs too much.”
For the first time, Mor had no immediate response.
Good.
You had not wanted to hurt her.
Not really.
But you were very tired of watching Eris bleed quietly under everyone else’s certainty.
“You may hate my mate,” you said, and only then did your tone sharpen. “That is your right. Hate him forever, if it comforts you.”
Eris’s gaze moved to you.
You did not look at him.
“But do not sit in his court, at his table, beneath laws he bled to change, and pretend your hatred is the same thing as truth.”
Silence pressed against the walls.
Cassian looked between you and Mor, unusually quiet.
Azriel’s shadows curled close to his shoulders.
Rhysand leaned back slowly, expression unreadable.
You picked up your tea again.
It had gone cold.
Mor did not sit.
Not immediately.
Her face was pale with anger, but beneath it there was something else.
Something older. Something less certain.
Eris finally spoke. Calm and measured.
“My mate raises a wonderful point.”
Rhysand looked at him.
Eris’s eyes did not leave Mor.
“Do you intend to discuss the border villages,” he said, “or continue mistaking personal history for governance?”
Your mouth twitched.
Only slightly.
Mor saw it.
Cassian definitely saw it.
Rhysand looked as though he was reevaluating several decisions at once.
Good.
That meant they were listening.
You took one careful sip of cold tea and set it back down.
“Now,” you said pleasantly, as though you hadn’t just gutted the room and asked for the next topic. “Shall we return to the villages, or would anyone else like to confuse emotion with policy first?”
Guys, I know I say this every time BUT IM BAAACCCCKKK😔🫶🫶
But trust me I’ve been cooking. If yall want pics send me fic requests of every and any fandom my creative juices are flowing out of my pussy right now
⊹₊˚‧ ୨ asking mha boys stupid questions PART 2 ୧ ‧˚₊⊹
⟢ various x partner!reader, smau!
⟢ fluff/crack
⟢ masterlist
⟢ read part 1 here!
⟢ a/n: omg thank u guys sm for the love on the first one??? im glad u enjoyed it that was actually wild 😭😭 also pls feel free to request other characters you'd want to see!!
bakugou who—quietly yearns for you ever since he laid his eyes on you, which became his favorite habit.
𖦹 content. k.bakugou x reader. fluff
Katsuki Bakugou liked to think he wasn’t the type of person who got distracted.
He trained harder than anyone else in Class 1-A. He didn’t waste time daydreaming. He didn’t stare out windows. He certainly didn’t spend entire lessons watching someone instead of paying attention.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
The problem was you.
Bakugou still remembered the first time he saw you. It wasn’t dramatic. No slow motion. No grand realization.
You had simply walked into class on your first day, looking mildly annoyed because your bag strap had gotten caught on the door handle.
Most people would’ve ignored it.
Bakugou didn’t.
And somehow, after that, he never stopped noticing you.
At first, it was accidental.
He noticed how you always arrived a few minutes early.
How you tapped your pencil against your desk whenever you were thinking.
How you scrunched your nose when reading difficult material.
How you secretly slipped snacks to Kaminari whenever he forgot breakfast.
Tiny things. Meaningless things.
Things he absolutely shouldn’t have remembered.
Yet somehow, they stayed.
Watching you became a habit.
Then the habit became his favorite part of the day.
He’d catch sight of you laughing with your friends in the hallway.
See you practicing your quirk after class.
Hear your voice across the training grounds.
And every single time, something inside him settled.
Which was incredibly irritating, because Bakugou Katsuki didn’t do feelings. Especially not whatever this was.
Unfortunately, his classmates were beginning to notice.
One afternoon, everyone was gathered in the common room.
You sat across the room, completely unaware.
Bakugou wasn’t even trying to stare.
He just happened to glance up.
And then glance up again. And again. And maybe a fourth time.
“Bro.” Kirishima’s voice cut through the silence.
Bakugou frowned. “What?”
Kirishima looked between him and you.
Then back at him. “Oh.”
Bakugou immediately hated that tone. “Oh what?”
Kaminari suddenly sat up. “What? What happened?”
Kirishima pointed. At him. Then at you.
Bakugou’s stomach dropped. “No.”
“Oh my god,” Kaminari gasped.
“NO.”
“You like her!”
“I DON’T.”
“You’ve been staring at her for fifteen minutes.”
“I HAVE NOT.”
“You literally smiled.”
The room went silent.
Bakugou froze. “…What?”
Kaminari looked horrified. “Dude.”
Kirishima looked equally shocked. “Dude.”
Bakugou’s eye twitched. “What are you idiots talking about?”
“You smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I DID NOT.”
“You looked at her like she just won the Sports Festival.”
Bakugou felt heat crawl up his neck.
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
He was careful. Nobody was supposed to notice.
Unfortunately, at that exact moment, you looked up.
Your eyes met his.
For one terrible second, neither of you looked away.
Then you smiled. A small one. Soft and warm.
Only for him.
And Bakugou forgot how to breathe.
Across the room, Kaminari slammed both hands over his mouth.
Kirishima looked like he was witnessing history.
Bakugou immediately stood. “I’m leaving.”
“You’ve got it bad.”
“SHUT UP.”
He stormed out of the common room while laughter erupted behind him.
But as he walked away, one thought lingered stubbornly in his mind.
Because for all his efforts to hide it—
for all the years he’d spent pretending not to care—
bf!kirishima who never shuts the fuck up about you. ; 0.3k
you don’t even notice at first. that is until bakugo comes knocking on your door at the ass crack of dawn.
you’re in your pajamas, cuddling with bf!kirishima, and then someone starts knocking on your door very persistently.
“i’ll get it.” you say gently, knowing your boyfriend is fast asleep due to the training him and bakugo decided to force themselves to do.
you gently open the door trying to make as little noise as possible.
“if your fucking boyfriend mentions your name ONE more time, i swear to fuck you will be a widow.” katsuki threatens as you can baisically see the steam coming out of his ears. “your name didn’t leave his mouth the whole. time.”
you feel a pair of arms wrapping around you from behind.
“hey bakubro! why ya’ yelling so much, hm?” kirishima feigns innocence as his best friend gets even redder in the face.
“i’m never training with you again, ya’ hear me?!” the door shuts with a thud as eijiro closes it.
“don’t know what midoriya’s been feeding him.” he shrugs with a knowing smile, ready to go back to dreaming about you. he’s almost at the bed before you call out to him.
“eijiroooo” you whine slightly. he turns around quickly.
"yes baby?" all his attention is immediately back on you, sleep leaving his mind.
your hands are covering your face in embarrassment. your face has gone completely red, matching his hair color.
"that's was embarrassing, eiji." he signs as he carries you back to bed.
"shh bakugo's just bitching about shit that doesn't even matter, you know him." he lies you gently onto the sheets and kisses your forehead.
"if you say so."
both of you know katsuki wouldn't be this mad over 'nothing'.
the five hottest things a fictional man can be are 1. highly intelligent 2. terminally ill 3. emotionally unavailable 4. full of trauma and regrets 5. lying about their identity
people always talk about someone getting fucked stupid but what about a top going stupid while fucking someone? their brain shuts off and they just become a horny mutt with the only goal of getting off as hard as they can, breeding their sub. incoherent whimpers and moans of pure lust and desire. just a thought
"What's that?" Sokka asks, pointing to the bit of fabric sticking out of Aang's pant pocket. He leans in a little, narrowing his eyes for a closer look. "It doesn't look like it's yours because, I'm not gonna lie, it looks skimpy and...lacy—"
Aang immediately stuffs the fabric further into his pocket, his entire face aflame. Sokka stares at him, startled, before something clicks as the puzzle pieces slot themselves together.
Sokka smirks, wiggling his eyebrows as he claps Aang on the back. Aang who looks like he's seconds away from setting himself on fire or turning into the very breeze itself.
"Nasty perv," Sokka says jovially and Aang groans, closing his eyes and debating on if earthbending his way to the earth's core to escape this is a good idea.
Not that he's apologetic—after all, he was the one who pocketed your panties before feasting on the sweetness between your trembling thighs. No, he doesn't regret that part at all.
What he does regret is his past self's inability to properly think and act after a mind-blowing orgasm...or two.
Then maybe he would have remembered to hide your panties well enough.
⡴ utterly whipped gojo forcing you to praise him during sex [kinda a pt 2 to this ? ] ⡴ didn’t even touch word count
he’s balls deep in you, and yet of course he’s still spouting stupid bullshit.
“i’m doing good, right baby?” he moans (moreso whimpers), still thrusting in that half-romantic half-what it’s actually supposed to be—a hookup—rhythm. his normally porcelain cheeks are completely flushed, his cool white hair falls in his face, some strands sticking to his forehead glistening in sweat.
“i—what?” you manage to say, still out of breath from how he’s fucking into you with his unfairly big cock. every perfect ridge and vein of it is dragging against your walls as he thrusts in and out of your sopping cunt—though you’ll deny how wet you are because of how large gojo’s ego will be if he knows he actually arouses you.
“say it.” he pouts above you, gripping harder on your shoulders he’s deemed a perfect leverage point in you to help with his strokes. “say i’m doing good… please?” his blue eyes pleading to you like a puppy dog.
“gojo, i’m not fucking doing th—” he shoves all the way back in and stops his thrusts. you moan without even meaning to from the sheer amount of girth being stuffed in you. he juts his lower lip out further, clearly upset by your answer.
“c’mon,” he looks physically pained as he restrains himself from continuing his thrusts. “just say it and i’ll keep fucking you.” he whines out, sounding a lot more weak and less intimidating than he thought he would.
you breathe out. you know he’ll hold on to this for the rest of the foreseeable future but you’re close anyway. you’ll come then kick him out like always and if next time he keeps mentioning it, you’ll just stuff his face with your pussy.
“you’re doing so good, gojo.” you moan out in a shaky voice.
he moans, loudly, near pornographic, and he gets back to thrusting immediately, except he seems more motivated. his strokes are fasting and more like he’s trying to impress you. his sounds are more desperate and huffy than before.
he reaches around your waist to hug you closer and shove his face deep in your neck, right below your ear.
“haaah, fuck, baby—say i’m the best you’ve ever had, please.”
“mm, god, gojo you’re the best i’ll ever fucking have.” he cries out. cries out and actually cries. tears start streaming down his pale face and cupping along your neck and collar bone where he’s found solace. he’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon.
unwantedly but admittedly, you say this next one yourself. it’s almost like you’re starting to… like him. ew.
“such a g’boy for me, satoru.” he nuts. immediately thick cum oozes into your pussy, spilling out from how overstuffed it already is with his girthy, oversized, genetic lottery winning cock. his whole body shakes and shivers while he releases, still trying to thrust so you could finish like the good boy he is.
unfortunately he forgets he’s not god and ends up overstimulating the hell out of himself by the time he gets you to cream by his thumb pressing along your clit.
he brings his head up, covered in sweat as he’s still shaking from the feeling of nutting the hardest he ever has.
he looks nearly completely out of it before his lips curl into a smirk. “you finally called me satoru!” and then he’s attacking your lips and shoving his tongue so far down you’re throat like he’s wasn’t just near seizing from cumming.
Imagine falling asleep on the Breath of the Wild boys
Link would probably keep still, but relax his arm so as not to bring you discomfort. The two of you had stopped at a campfire in a relatively safe spot, and as the moon traveled through the sky, exhaustion had finally caught up with you. When Link noticed you, asleep on his shoulder, a rare smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. He stays wide awake, keeping an eye out for any danger that may try to approach. However, when you make a noise in your sleep, he turns to you, and finds himself falling for how peaceful you look when sleeping.
Revali would roll his eyes and scoff. He'd spent the past few hours training at the flight range, and the one time he decides to take a break (one that you had nagged at him to take), you go and fall asleep on him! Really, he wanted to be annoyed at you, but seeing how you cuddled into his wing subconsciously, that irritation melted like ice next to a fire. Very carefully, he would move you to rest against his chest so that he could wrap his wings around you properly. Don't fear the cold, dear, he will keep you warm.
Daruk would be nervous, at first. He knows he's not the softest guy around, after all! He figures he should have seen it coming though. He'd spent all day showing you around Goron City and giving you a tour of the inside of Vah Rudania (even though, technically, he wasn't supposed to do that). It's no wonder you're tired! Very carefully, he picks you up and cradles you in his hands as he guides Rudania back to Goron City. He'll find a good place for you to nap, don't you worry little one!
If you thought Daruk was nervous, Yunobo is ten times worse. This poor boy is already nervous as is, but through in a cute little thing like you falling asleep on him? He doesn't know what to do! So he stays perfectly still. He's stiff as a board, and frantically shushing anyone who tries to talk to him. The last thing in the world he wants is for you to wale up. Because as nervous as he is, he has to admit... it's nice, knowing you feel safe enough to sleep near him. Now if only his leg hadn't gone numb...
Teba doesn't outwardly react. One would assume it's because he hadn't noticed, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes, he was still fine tuning his bow, but if you look closely, you'll see a certain slowness to his movements, and you'll notice how the arm you're resting on isn't moving very much. Believe it or not, he's used to being slept on. Tulin once had a tendency of climbing into his lap and falling asleep back when he was a little chick, and this isn't much different. Still, Teba is quiet and gentle with his movements. He's not the kind to wake others unnecessarily.
Sidon would be surprised, but not unpleasantly so. He had brought you to a quiet, secluded cave just outside of the Domain so that the two of you could have some time away from prying eyes. The Zora prince had noticed you looked a bit worse for wear, tired and run ragged by adventuring and helping out around Hyrule. He had hoped a quiet outing would revitalize you, but it seems that a bit of rest is what you truly needed. Still, it surprised him that you would fall asleep against him so easily. Seeing you in this vulnerable state, trusting him to keep you safe... his heart fluttered in his chest. Yes, he thought, pulling you close to him. Yes, he will always keep you safe, should you permit him. You have nothing to fear while you are by his side.
Summary: Requested!RevalixReader! Revali gets a little jealous as you spend a lot of your free time in the village with all of the little children. Although he won’t admit it, you could tell something was off.
Pairing: Revali x Reader
Word Count: 890
Warnings: jealousy, fluffy, kind of sad towards the end
Author’s Note: Yay, this is finally out! I was a little nervous to write for Revali, so I really hope I did him justice! Coming up next will be Revali x Zelda, Ramsay Snow smut, Jon Snow, Cassian Andor, and Hux x Jedi!Reader. So excited for these to get posted! Hope you enjoy this story!
Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Zelda or the characters. Also, I do not own this GIF, found on GIPHY
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