#:loverboy

[forgottenloverboy]

trying to seductively get on my knees for you but my knees crack so loud it echoes and i’m stuck there for five minutes

[transgenderboobs]

if mangoes didnt have the pit inside of them they would have to invent a new 8th deadly sin to describe the way i act around them because greed gluttony and lust wouldn't even Begin to cover the heinous depraved things i would do if there wasn't a piece of wood lurking inside to humble me

[teddybeartoji]

suguru kisses your temple as he places your coffee in front of you, softly laughing at your still half-asleep expression before taking his seat right across from you. messy strands of hair cascade down over his shoulders and he tucks a few stray ones behind his ear, so his view is as clear as day – suguru needs to be able to see the way your eyebrows furrow as you yawn or he'll die. he needs to be able to see that sliver of skin that peeks from under your shirt, his shirt, as you stretch and rub your eyes or he'll die. he needs to be able to see the way your eyes widen just a tad at the first taste of the coffee, of the affection suguru offers you through a simple drink. it's him, it's all him.

he's everywhere – he's on your tongue as you swallow, he's in your nose as you inhale. he's on your skin as you get dressed every morning, he's in your head when you wake up. your shoes are clean and you know it's him, your laundry is done and you know it's him. there's a cup of coffee waiting for you and you know it's him. a pair of soft hands, a brush of lips against the shell of your ear and it's always him. he's everywhere you look, guarding and protecting, loving, and all he needs in return is the little sweet 'aahh' that tumbles from your lips just as you meet his eyes across the table.

you see the grin tugging on his lips before he hides it behind his own mug, the very same one you gifted him last christmas. his hands cup the ceramic with utmost care; he likes the warmth of it – of the coffee and of the adoration stored inside it.

under the table, your knees knock together.

under your ribs, your hearts stutter.

you're laughing and he's in love.

[shurisneakers]

cillian murphy accepting the award with his wife's lipstick all over his face and asking the crowd if he's got lipstick on his nose and continuing even when they said yes. this is making me feel. things

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[cloth-fabric]

charles jeffrey loverboy - spring rtw 2024

[kachowden]

Thinking about a deeply romantic man. Possibly a bit old fashioned in the ways of love. The type to sweep you off your feet to dance in the rain, the type to buy you flowers, just because. Maybe even to thank you simply for being beside him. The type who stares out into starry skies and thinks of your smile, cushioning it amongst the glowing lights. The type who watches couples pass him by and yearns to be by your side once more, even if it had only been mere hours.

The type who writes poems and songs about the way your hands fit against his. Who sings your bodies praises, every inch of it enchanting him more than the last, seeping into his fingers that strum the chords of an unknown melody. Who kisses whatever causes you insecurity, because his heart aches to think you don’t see yourself in the radiant light that he does. That you aren’t breathless with every glance at a mirror- like he is everytime your eyes meet.

Oh and is he ever so breathless. The way you sigh. The way you glance around at the world. Even the way you may duck your head after finding something you did to be silly or embarrassing, he adores it all. There is not a moment that goes by where he, all of him, is not encompassed by your every moment.

Perhaps there had been a time where love had felt nonsensical. Illusionary, to him. Perhaps there had been a time where he scoffed at the notion of such a thing, and sneered at the couples that passed him by, trapped in their own little bubbles of affection. Perhaps he even scorned them. Cursed them for partaking in something he had never experienced. Something he did not know to be true. Something he did not believe in.

And yet you, my darling, had taken all of that bitterness and loathing, and crushed it deep down into the recesses of his very being. Your hands so delicately cupped his beating heart, and let it pulse mindlessly in your warmth. You carved yourself deep into his lungs and stomach, pouring butterflies that fluttered and tickled his veins, making him feel as if he was a child again, frolicking through the saturated hues of the world. No longer colorless. No longer dull. His world breathed with the very essence of you and he could not find it in himself to ever let go.

He belonged to you. Forever. Constantly. Without a moments hesitation, without a skip in time and without ever missing a beat. He was yours. And you were his. You would be his till time had wrinkled the corner of your eyes, had sapped the warmth from your skin, and had laid to rest the beat of your heart. He fantasized about the moments your bodies were laid together, snug into a box and hoisted down below. About when your flesh would deteriorate and your bones would creak against one another.

And one day when your souls had sprung from their warm cages; he dreamed of the way you two would become the air you had once breathed, the rain you had once danced in, and the stars he had gazed into, and recalled the curve of your lips with a feverishly, beating heart.

[industryhbo]

Pride and Prejudice (2005) dir. Joe Wright

[toyogamii]

.｡.:*☆ satoru gojo going out of his way to buy you flowers ☆*: .｡.

"megumi, you can handle this curse while i go run some errands, right?" satoru asks, a knowing smirk on his face.

megumi scowls and wipes sweat from his brow.

"you're really just gonna leave me here?"

satoru shrugs and turns from the battle scene in front of him.

"it's a low level curse, you'll be fine, i just remembered something i have to do."

before the dark haired boy can get another word out, satoru is gone.

"asshole," he growls to himself.

meanwhile, satoru finds himself walking through the streets of the closest town. had he had any doubt in megumi's ability to deal with the curse problem he would have stayed, but as luck would have it; it was an easy mission and he now had time to turn his thoughts towards you.

you.

satoru smiles softly as he thought of the cute grin you'd give him when he brought you a gift. how'd you gasp and exclaim 'toru! you shouldn't have!' just like you did every time. he licks his lips thoughtfully as he scans the various stalls, looking for the perfect thing to get you.

his eyes land on a small flower cart and he grins. you always love when he brings you flowers. he strolls over to the cart and carefully picks through the arrangements till he finds one that was a beautiful display of colors and has your favorite flowers nonetheless.

by the time he got back to megumi, the boy was sitting on the curb, a glare etched on his face.

"all done?" satoru asks cheerfully. megumi scowls,

"you blew me off for flowers?"

"not just any flowers, y/n's favorite flowers," the sorcerer proclaims, holding them up proudly.

"i'm going to kill you."

"not before i give them these flowers you're not."

on the ride back, megumi refuses to talk, only saying a word when ijichi doesn't make a turn towards the school.

"where are we going?" he grumbles.

"i'm going home to my beautiful partner, you're going to give a mission report to the elders. you did most of the work after all."

again, megumi scowls and mumbles under his breath as satoru kicks his feet up on the dashboard and leans back with a content sigh.

he's giddy as he walks up with steps to your shared home, flowers held behind his back. he knocks on the door and hear's your voice calling out,

"just a minute!"

a few seconds later the latch clicks and you open the door, giving satoru a confused smile.

"why'd you knock, sweetie? did you lose your key again?"

he gives you a huge grin and presents you with the bouquet. you gasp excitedly, just like he knew you would.

"oh 'toru you shouldn't have!"

"saw these after the mission, knew i had to get them for you," he mumbles as he wraps his arms around you and gives you a lingering kiss.

you smile when you pull away.

"you mean while you were supposed to be working?"

"you're way more important than work," he kisses you again, pulling you inside the house and closing the door.

"oh toru, what am i going to with you?"

"gimme another kiss?"

you laugh and lean into him.

[prettyboykatsuki]

bakugou is Too Rough in general. he knows that but i dont think he really feels self-conscious about it until he tries to woo you or some shit and he keeps fucking up in stupid and little ways. too aggressive. too brash. just abrasive in how he talks and acts. your response to that is always so frustratingly mild. like you can smell him being a try hard and it's the funniest shit ever to you. you always give him a look when he pulls something dumb and feels mortified, a small laugh before brushing it over. you're being considerate in a way he despises completely. it just seems like he can't stop fucking up around you

it takes him a while to realize you're endeared by it. you call him cute to his face once (even more ridiculous) and when he goes to argue - he notices that you're genuinely smiling. like you mean it. and he stills stupidly clumsy but fine. fine. it's better than you thinking he's a loser and hating him over it even if he'd prefer you thought he was cool and awesome.

[hysterixa]

bitch is sleeping

[bluebugjay]

One thing about Edwin is that when he's not insulting people, he's complimenting them.

He'll go from calling someone an idiot to calling them a genius within minutes and both times it's entirely sincere

[transgenderboobs]

summer break should NOT only be a school thing it should be universal forever. like i should be able to take the summer off from my job to go play with my friends and go swimming and eat ice cream on my porch at 11 at night

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; fem!reader

satoru loves it when you intertwine your fingers with his as he eats you out. it's romantic. he's making out with your cunt while his eyes are still glued to your fucked out face; eyebrows scrunched and lip between your teeth, threatening to draw blood – you're gorgeous.

every once in a while he pulls back just to press kisses to your thighs and smiles to himself when he feels you squeeze his hands. you squirm and wriggle, desperate for him to kiss her again but he's taking his sweet, sweet time. he just wants to taste you, to have you. to love you. this is intimacy at its peak for him – lips on lips, he will eat you like he's starving (he is), like you're his last meal. he won't let you go until you can feel his adoration run up and through your whole body.

pre-cum stains his lower abdomen as he humps against the mattress below him but he doesn't care – his own pleasure is secondary at this moment. his cock aches and his balls twitch but it just doesn't fucking matter. he will gladly make a mess of the sheets underneath if that means he gets to devour you like this.

a mixture of his spit and your own slick dribbles down from your messy cunt as he laps at your heat like a starving dog. he can't get enough, he needs more and more and more. he sucks on your clit and he tongues at your hole, grinning into you when you give his hands another squeeze. when you sob out his name with tears brimming in your eyes, he gives you a knowing hum – the vibrations make your body burn and it only takes him another 30 seconds to have you gushing on his tongue.

thrashing and twitching, you throw your head back into the pillow. satoru doesn't let go of your hands, no matter how much you try to pull away; he watches your chest rise and fall, he watches the sweat shine on your neck and he cannot help but smile again. his lover – under him, completely overwhelmed by pleasure and affection, there's literally nothing else he could ever possibly want<333

[gfguren]

bakugou, alcohol mention, 300ish words

bakugou is soooo cute when he's drunk, all flush cheeked and hopelessly lovestruck. his eyes find you, pour with affection, deep and lazy vermillion half moons bleeding through dark lashes.

his wine glass sits empty and it shows, in the way he blinks slow, drinking in the way your hips sway when you stand, a waver in your step from one too many glasses of your own. you manage two whole steps before his fingers cage the soft flesh of your wrist, a thumb at your pulse and a palm at your waist.

you blink, world spins, knees give way, and suddenly you're trapped atop toned thighs, confined within strong, scarred arms, and drinking in his cologne—cinnamon, warm and spicy, a lick of vanilla when your nose brushes past his collarbone, trails the expanse of his neck until your lips meet his adam's apple.

his head tilts, chair creaks; a shiver strikes you, zips skyward in tandem with the fingertips trailing your spine to curl around the base of your skull. the pads of his fingers are rough but he's gentle with you, a groan rumbling in the caverns of his chest, echoing softly when the point of your teeth skim the brink of his jaw.

he's warm, more so than usual, late april turned july, the sun at its peak. your arms curl around his shoulders, soaking him in at arms length. there's a trail of sticky lipgloss, artificial strawberry and glitter from collarbone to cupid's bow; and you laugh, forehead knocking against his own.

in the shadow of your smile, his lips flicker, flicker, flare—like a solar anomaly, stretching past the point of his canines until he's grinning like a fool in love. and maybe he is. and maybe with a glass or two more, he'll tell you just how much.

(just to deny it in the morning).

[heich0e]

katsuki is so funny because one minute he's stomping around barking about whatever it is he's disgruntled about today but one smooch and all the sudden he's soooooooooo docile