#Hashtag's fics

[hashtagdrivebywrites]

Hello, yes, howdy, welcome to...

✨Hashtag's Fic Masterlist✨

A little about me:

She/her pronouns

I write and sometimes make art

Here is my Ao3!

Asks are open! or you can drop me a message if you want to

I like ask games, but I might be late or accidentally lose track of them before I can respond to them (whoops!)

I'm into a lot of stuff so this blog/page/black hole will be a mixed bag of fandoms

[Updated June 16, 2025] - Fic links below:

Published, In Progress:

Imprint (DPxDC) (Baby G.K. Danny, Halfa Dad Jason, Fright Franklin Pickle Girl Knight, oddball co-parents, attempted qpr relationship) 6/16: Chapter 13 posted - making minor adjustments to the fic, started on 14 and planning on revising 1 soon to correct the tense.

Meandros (AC: 3 x AC: Odyssey) (Time travel/Reincarnation, Kid Desmond, OC's, Deimos!Kassandra, dumb mercenaries with a big bro/dad complex, Desmond "I'm Done" Miles) 6/16: Chapter 13 posted - started on 14.

Published, Complete:

As Long as Stars are Above You (TMNT (mostly Bayverse and Next Mutation)) (Family Fluff, Surprise Baby Acquisition, Good Big Bros, Momma April) 15 Chapters; 39k words; Sequel in progress

Our Mother Breathed Fire (GOT) (Dragon POV, kind of a character study? I don't know) 1 Shot; 2k words

Your Blood That I Bleed (AC 1, 2 & 3) (Family of Choice, Immortality, Cat Dad Desmond, Assassin Dads) 10 Chapters; 74k Words

"In The Drawer" - On Hiatus until I can give it the attention it needs:

A Place For Us (Batman (mostly Arkham Knight)) (Families of Choice, Kids, Adoption, Bat Fam coming back together) 6/16: My first fic on Ao3 and it's been set aside for a complete overhaul because there's no structure/direction and there's a lot of issues with how I was writing/presenting the characters.

Unpublished, In Progress:

And Longer Still If I Can - sequel to As Long As Stars Are Above You (TMNT) (Family and Found Family, Kid Fic, Adventure Fic, Larval Form Mutanimals) 6/16: On pause!

Red Devil Rowdy (title may change; DPxDCxSDxSPN) (Paranormal Mystery/Detective Fic, Family Reveal, Identity Reveal) 6/16: 5 chapters done but putting it on pause because I'm still trying to figure out how to write a mystery that actually reads like a damn mystery.

And Still You Stand, Sturdy and Smelling of Smoke (DC x Spider-man) (Peter Parker Fist Fights the League, Catatonic Jason, Hyper Independent Tim) 6/16: On pause!

Illin' and Able! (title may change; DSxTMNT) (Time Travel, Older Turtles (21), Mom Friend April, Gratuitous Use of "Bro", "Dude" and "Yo") 6/16: First arc finished! Didn't get published with Imprint and Meandros because I didn't want to start a new fic right in the middle of changing ao3 accounts - but we'll get this one up soon.

Holy War is On The Phone (DPxMHA/BNHA) (Ghost Prince Danny, Undercover Investigation, Fake Family, Pissed Off Danny) 6/16: On pause!

Redline (DCxMHA/BNHA) (Robin!Jason, Jason has the Metagene, Accidental Dimension Travel, Pro-Heroes/Older Class 1-A) 6/16: On pause!

(Recently fallen head over heels into a Star Wars hyperfixation, which has naturally spawned a bunch of WIP's of its own, so expect some content soon (EDIT: there's three independent SW wips and three crossovers with other fandoms in progress - will list them soon on the WIP list (10/10)))

[tio-trile]

Listen I ship Lawrenitez and Bellesco as much as anyone but sometimes Benitesco vibes is truly unmatched (Partially referenced from official pictures, and "如同聖潔的火" by Doubting_Luigia on Ao3)

[jiauro]

just wanna post something HASTAG W.I.P.

[2tarbell]

rafey who wants you to hold onto him at all times, but especially at a party with a bunch of douchey guys around… just holding onto his strong bicep or even wrapping your whole fist around his finger. he loves having you hang off him!!!

and of course he’s keeping a hand on you the entire night — looking ever the part of scary boyfriend as he looms behind you. hand on your hip loosely as you dance on him, tightening when a dude gets too close to you, shooting daggers over his red solo cup.

the stern expression on his face turns sweet when you spin around & snake your arms up his sturdy chest and around his neck. morphing into that charmingly boyish grin that makes you flush and bat your eyelashes. then he’s whispering praises & compliments into your ear all sultry like he knows you love.

“lookin’ so beautiful tonight, baby. s’all for me? atta girl — show these assholes who you belong to, yeah?”

[jacksamiras]

oh, hey 💜 —

abbot struggling to orgasm bc meds, right? it’s a rare thing, but not a never thing. samira, naturally, isn’t deterred in the slightest when they start hooking up casually —

(so casually, they insist - y’know, like liars)

— and jack might have trouble coming, but he’s going to make goddamn sure samira never has trouble again. ever. she will come whenever and however she needs.

(and, y’know, there’s a whole subplot here about them discovering and choosing nonsexual intimacy together before they’re even properly dating)

anyway.

when he does come for the first time with samira, it’s the biggest release of tension he’s had in years. it builds and builds and he can’t articulate it as it’s happening, but samira can tell he’s close. rasps out a ‘oh my god, you’re gonna come in me, aren’t you? fuck, jack, c’mon. c’mon. you got this.’

she scratches blunt nails down his back, between his shoulders where he can feel it to the small of his back where the nerves are so fucked that he can’t. gasps her name and stills inside her for the most intense orgasm of his life.

one that is also accompanied by an orgasm headache, spreading from the base of his skull up around to his temples and down the length of his neck.

he’s shaking and nauseous, manages to mumble something about the headache and makes to move off of her. but samira’s arms just tighten around him; her fingers press into the ache at the back of his head and down over his shoulders, shushing him when he tries to quip about how ‘… his head just can’t ever let him have anything nice, huh?’

but she’s telling him it was nice. it was what she wanted, what they’ve both wanted for so long. just — this, the intimacy and the shared afterglow and the having someone. feeling so close that it’s like their souls are touching.

he’s twitching and going soft inside her, trying to catch his breath and roll the ache out of his neck where the muscles are still tight from his release. he kisses her collarbone and her jaw, the curl stuck to her temple with sweat. presses his forehead against the cool silk of her pillowcase next to her hair.

‘don’t pull out,’ she whispers, thighs lazily falling open again underneath his hips. ‘not yet.’

he can still hear his own heartbeat. exhales harshly at a particularly pleasant digging of her thumb into the base of his skull. but he doesn’t move. lets himself relax against her.

‘i have propranolol in — ‘

‘the bathroom cabinet, I know. and i’ll grab a zofran from your drawer, right next to the biofreeze and the contact solution. and the receipt from our first date.’

that gets him to smile, a hidden thing against her pillow. ‘it was a good date.’

‘mm. the tiramisu was terrible.’

‘yeah. but the company wasn’t.’

samira’s fingers tug so, so gently at his hair until he’s moving, sitting up and kissing her as the throbbing in his head steadily dulls. eventually, he pulls out and rolls onto his back. watches her as she moves through his bathroom, reaches out to touch her as she digs through his bedside table, breathes a soft ‘thank you’ when she crawls back into bed next to him on her knees, one hand holding a glass of water and the other a pair of pills. he takes the meds from her and then lays back, dragging the backs of his fingers up her thighs as she straddles his lap.

‘rest, yeah?’ she murmurs, leaning down until their chests are pressed together. ‘just for a few minutes. I’ll be here when you wake up.’

‘right here?’ he whispers, thumb catching at the corner of her mouth on the way to the edge of her brow.

her dark, brown eyes are so fucking bright when she’s this close.

jack wants her to always be this close.

‘right here,’ she promises, tapping a finger against the line of his jaw. ‘i’m not going anywhere, jack.’

he manages to sleep for twenty minutes. dreams of samira’s left hand tangled with his right as they walk through the backyard. feels a smaller hand tucked into his left. looks down to see a boy walking with them — curly hair that glints red in the sun; bright, brown eyes blinking up to meet his; a smile that lights up his whole face, tugs a little more to one side than the other.

….

anyway. is this anything

[licoryce]

what used to be

i wasn't joking. i love them way too much someone tranquilize me plS its the only way i can be saved

[ksukiii]

canon bakugou texts 😜

don’t slander pls i’m new to tumblr😔

but i’m open to any suggestions 👍👍

[iinarizaki]

pro freak

things just don't go so well on a call for poor Aizawa...and he needs you 🫵 tags: 18+, 4.0k, aizawa x f!reader (sorta, I don't think I used any pronouns or gendered petnames with this one), guys it's sex pollen there's like unprotected marathon sex, cunnilingus, cum, sweat, masturbation (m!), dry humping, things are happening.

“Ha! Even the great Eraserhead can’t beat me. So sad how the heroes are falling since All Might’s retirement!” The lanky twenty-something currently attempting to do circles around him taunts him with that annoying, grating voice of his. 

Attempting is the key word here. While still being surprisingly fast, Aizawa has still managed to stun him twice but there was some stupid counter to his quirk that is proving full capture a little challenging. And the– admittedly foolish as he knows much better– added distraction of being almost late to a dinner date with you is tugging his full attention from the urban jungle that he chases this young idiot through, swinging from buildings and lamp posts like that one fictional American superhero All Might compared him to one day not too long ago… Spider-boy or something. 

It’s just the thought of disappointing you, of missing the expensive reservation that he somewhat reluctantly booked six months in advance at some hyper popular restaurant you wistfully mentioned wanting to go to after seeing an instagram reel…

Just to see you happy. 

Knowing it’s work related and you would forgive him easily is a weak comfort but he would rather not have to ask for forgiveness in the first place. Having you in his life is something he never realized he needed until one day you just seemed to show up and he quickly realized that it would kill part of him if you weren’t around. 

He just needs to hurry and wrap this guy up, then alert the police or Best Jeanist or whoever else is close enough to pick him up. It’s not like he really cares if he gets all the glory…

Especially on a minor incident like this. The guy was stealing from an improperly unsecured bank truck and knocked out the guards. It’s basically kid shit. 

As he tries to quickly consider his options and form a plan, an opening appears when his opponent turns his head to taunt him further, only to clip the side of a building, falling to the ground with a heavy thud, his plastic helmet cracking on the sidewalk. He dives forward with his scarf, activating his quirk and using his scarf to carry him closer to further incapacitate him when he passes the opening of a street and out of his peripheral he sees something coming towards him at speed.

Before he can react, a cloud of something pink is thrown at him. He flinches when it slips through the slats in his visor, the powder burning his already sensitive eyes harshly. Thinking quickly despite the burning sensation that now spreads down his neck, rolling over his shoulders and making him shudder. 

Taking a literal blind chance, he flicks one end of his scarf out to suspend himself from a street light. Unable to stop his momentum, he swings wildly, bumping his leg painfully as he wraps his other scarf around the second perpetrator.

His shoulder protests holding his weight, Aizawa forcing himself to bite back a grunt and the growing hot feeling beginning to thrum through his veins. He carefully drops himself to the ground before launching the now freed second end of his scarf to wrap the first of the hooligans that still lays unconscious. 

“What is this?” He asks sharply to the grumbling form on the ground, trying to open his eyes but every time he tries it just burns so badly that his eyelids can only flutter. 

“My quirk. You got hit with a full dose of my love dust!” 

Aizawa grimaces, and not just at the corniness of the bullshit these young villains have been spouting recently. 

“And what does it do?” He asks sharply as he uses his chin to bump the comms button on his watch. “Eraserhead here. Need assistance.”

“Already have your location. Best Jeanist is in the area and on his way. Hang tight.” Dispatch crackles back via his earpiece. 

“It’s in the name, wise-ass.” His aggressor snaps back with a clear grin that Aizawa can hear in his voice while the dispatcher spoke. Honestly he couldn’t be more happy that he can’t see the full expression on their face, though the burn is starting to subside, leaving more of that weird pleasurable tingle in its wake that seems to be intensifying. 

“We’ll just have to ask you two more questions at the station.” He sighs, forcing himself to breathe normally when that pleasurable tingle spreads past his shoulders in earnest, snaking down towards his groin. 

“If you make it that long.” The dust villain mutters before they start to laugh, earning a renewed glare of disgust from Aizawa. 

Before he can inquire further into whatever the hell that means, the sound of confident steps approaches from behind as Best Jeanist interrupts them. 

“Good evening, Eraserhead. Seems like you’ve gotten into a bit of a situation.” Best Jeanist’s proper tone clips along, never overly friendly, but that’s something he’s always appreciated about him. All professionalism and getting the job done so they can just go home. 

“Yeah, uh, hey, Jeanist. There’s just this one and the kid on the corner.” 

“Understood. I have backup on the way.” Best Jeanist just nods, strings whipping out to secure the two of them so Aizawa can undo his scarf.

“Ugh but c’mon, you need to let me go, I have class tomorrow! We didn’t even do anything!” The whining would-be villain at his feet huffs. 

“Should have thought about that before throwing weird dirt at me.”

“It’s not dirt.” 

Well that can be said for sure. The the initial burn was closer to lightning, sparking through him harshly, but now burn is slowly licking its way down his spine, over his abdominals, almost too uncomfortable at first before it subsides into a pleasant buzz, his thoughts drifting to you now– in compromising positions, whimpers and breathy moans replaying in total replay. 

Everything in him begs to go see you, very nearly overwhelming him as he attempts to stay professional and alert…except he brings his hands up to his eyes and makes the mistake of rubbing at them to see if he can open them yet. 

The heat that explodes immediately catches him off guard by how potent it is. He staggers forward, the sensation almost bringing him to his knees. 

“Are you alright, Eraserhead?” Best Jeanist asks curiously. “Do I need to call for a medic?” 

“No, it’s fine. I will go see Recovery Girl myself.” He says quickly, not really wanting anyone else to know about whatever this ‘love dust’ is. 

Getting attacked in battle was easier than now having to sit in Recovery Girl’s station, his scarf unraveled from his neck and strategically placed in his lap while she finishes running her tests. 

It’s not like he can just knock out their well-meaning nurse, nor does he want to but the embarrassment is terrible and invasive, and being rock hard while she shakes her head at him and chastises him is even fucking worse. His skin feels like it’s on fire, desire to be with you heavy in his gut and balls even heavier. 

Fortunately between texts to you to let you know that ‘yes, I’m safe’ but ‘sorry I won’t be home in time to go to dinner. Go ahead and take a friend. We’ll go another time.’ and keeping his hands and mind busy with an end of his scarf keeps his thoughts from wandering too badly. Folding an edge, then smoothing it out, folding it back down, rinse and repeat.

“You need to be more careful.” Recovery Girl scolds him. “But you’ll be fine. It’s just a case of um, well, increased libido for at least the next several hours. Nothing I can do about it unfortunately.” 

A fresh fat bead of sweat rolls down his neck uncomfortably and Aizawa fixes her with a tired, blank stare, only to be taken aback completely by her next question: 

“Have you ever heard of sex pollen?” 

“Excuse me?” He half asks, half says way too quickly. He was young and curious once and some of the stupid things he’s confiscated from the students over the years from drawings to handwritten fanfiction have been wildly inappropriate in nature…But he’s not going to talk to Recovery Girl about sex pollen. 

He must maintain some shred of distance and self respect today. 

A beat goes by as Recovery Girl debates explaining it to him before she just waves him off. “Eh, forget about it. It’ll probably go away by tomorrow. Maybe if you found a partner it would go away quicker?”

Clearly a reference to you, but he does feel a little…weird about seeking you out when he finally gets home just to work out the lingering effects of a villain’s quirk. Even if the craving he has for you right now physically hurts him. 

“I’ll just head home and wait it out. Thanks.” With that, he quickly stands, still trying to keep the mess of his scarf in front of him to conceal the biggest issue with him wanting to stay lowkey about all of this. 

“Good luck.” Recovery Girl offers as she finishes her report, what he’s fairly certain is a grandmotherly giggle managing to sneak through the crack of the door as it shuts behind him. 

By the time Aizawa gets to the apartment he shares with you and starts to unlock the door, he’s feverish. His thoughts are cloudy, he’s hot and sweaty all over, and worst of all, his cock has throbbed painfully nonstop at not being paid any attention to in the last couple hours since his initial exposure. 

Separate warring feelings of relief and disappointment flood through him when he steps through the door and it’s dark, only the hum of the appliances in the air to suggest that the power is on, and the place you usually occupy on the couch by this time of the evening is empty and cold. Maybe, hopefully, you did take his suggestion and took a friend to your reservations. 

But God, his heart and cock aches for you. 

At any rate, he quickly undresses and throws his still contaminated clothes in the washer before he finds himself attempting to remedy the issue himself in the shower, the leading thought of removing any remnants of dust that hasn’t soaked into his skin yet quickly forgotten when he accidentally grabs your body wash instead of his own. 

Cool water running over his defined back and surrounded by the scent that has become so you, he finally begins to palm at his cock, red and swollen and begging for attention. His head falls forward to rest on the shower wall, long dark hair curtaining his face as a pant escapes his lips. 

It feels good, a slight relief to take some of that gnawing edge off, but his hand is not your hand, and pulling from his expansive memories of experiences with you is not helping the same way it usually does. He strokes himself, squeezes, tries all the tricks he’s come to enjoy over the years with growing desperation to cum, but every time he’s so very close it fizzles out. 

The water runs freezing by the time Aizawa gets out and dries off, pulling his wet hair back in a loose bun, yet the heat that burns under his skin still rages, and he’s more frustrated than he has ever been in his entire life. 

He curses under his breath as he strides to the bedroom. Heading straight for his wardrobe, he grabs a pair of boxers to wear, the thought of putting on any more clothes than that right now makes him feel as if he very well could die. And the only person who can help him is…

Well, Aizawa needs to check his phone to see if you’ve texted him back since he was in the shower. It’s been nearly an hour judging by the time on the clock by your side of the bed. He pads back out to the living room, a small groan rumbling in his throat as sweat starts to roll down his back and chest again. 

As he picks up his phone from the kitchen counter, the front door opens and it takes all he can possibly muster not to immediately sweep you off your feet. 

“I’m home!” You call. “Shota?” 

“In the kitchen.” He calls back, attempting to clear his throat when his voice comes out a little husky. 

“How are you feeling? I stopped to get some things for you and I sweet talked them into letting me bring you home some takeout from that restaurant.” You flounce in with a sparkle in your eye, setting plastic bags down before moving in to hug him. Something he immediately dissuades by holding a hand up that stops you in your tracks, a confused frown pinching your brow as you wait for him to explain. 

“Don’t come too close right now. Sorry.” It’s a dagger to his heart to have to refuse you right now. Aizawa bites his lip, looking away from you, one of his hands coming up to rest on the back of his neck, “Thank you for dinner.”

“What's wrong?” He looks back towards you, watching as your concerned gaze roams him, searching for any obvious signs that he is hurt but coming up with none aside from a bruise forming on his calf from his slight collision with the light pole during the chase. 

“I was attacked by a villain with a, uh, quirk that makes you very horny for a while.” 

“Oh.” The frown turns into a look of surprise, before you start giggling, the sound even sweeter than usual and so fucking dangerous but the final nail in his terrible coffin is when you pair it with a gesture to the treacherous bulge in his boxers. “I was wondering why you were so happy to see me.” 

His face feels even hotter, and he pitches forward to rest his elbows on the counter, planting his head in his hands with a long groan. 

“Don’t bully me.” He grumbles, muffled behind his hands. “It is so hard not to drag you off to bed right now.” 

What answers him is another giggle that is both his salvation and his destruction. 

“Awww, poor thing, how can I help you?” Your voice gets closer, all but purring in his ear, and he wants so badly to bury his face between your legs, sink into your pretty cunt over and over again, hear you cry out in pleasure until you’re hoarse, leave you covered in love bites and cum and— 

He starts to deny you but the second your lips plant a soft blissful kiss against his shoulder, one of your hands starting to rub over his tense back, letting your nails drag down lightly, his brain short circuits. He moans into his hands, dropping them down to turn and seek you and your pretty lips instead. 

You meet him halfway, soft lips brushing against his and another needy noise rumbles in his throat as one of your hands rubs over his chest through his dark, neatly trimmed chest hair. A scrape of your nail over his nipple and he pushes you up against the counter, hips rolling against your half perched thigh. 

Stars sparkle behind his eyelids with the friction against his cock, the relief almost palpable. He breaks from the kiss to mouth at your neck, hot breath fanning out over your skin as you hum so sweetly.

“Thank you.” He breathes, fucking himself against your thigh desperately, “Fuck, thank you.”  

“Come, Shota. You’re doing so good.” You purr, stroking fingers along his scruffy jaw and down to drag your nails over his shoulder lightly again.

Quickly and with the force of a train, finally his first orgasm drowns him, vision whiting out as he clutches on to you tightly, tensing as he fills his boxers with ropes of warm cum. 

Aizawa shudders while the last sparks of pleasure roll through him, rough pants and soft hums tucked into the crook of your neck. But he only gets to enjoy how satisfied he feels for a moment before that awful hot thirst grabs him by the throat again. 

“How do you feel now?” You ask, continuing to rub your hand up and down one side of his back soothingly.

“Hah, we’re not done yet.” He rasps against your neck, easily hooking his arms around you and picking you up to sweep you away. You laugh in his arms as he quickly strides down the hallway and into your bedroom, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

You’re so satisfying in his arms, substantial and gorgeous and everything he could ever hope to get lost in as he drops you down onto the soft covers of the bed. Immediately you start shedding your clothing, everything thrown off in a rush to the four corners of the room. 

A few sticky rogue webs of cum take their sweet time to break as Aizawa steps out of his boxers. His cock lurches upwards, tapping against his stomach before he’s kneeling on the bed and draping himself over you with a blistering hunger and need you have only rarely seen before. 

He kisses you again, all teeth and tongue and whimpering desire, his breath catching when you return his kisses with the same desperation. As much as he needs to fuck you with abandon, he forces himself to slow down, beginning to kiss down your body until he’s half off the bed, supporting most of his weight on one outstretched foot before he spreads your thighs a little wider to reach your soft glistening cunt. 

“You’re so pretty.” He compliments before he spreads your folds with his nose, bumping your clit as he licks broadly with his tongue. He moans against you, not usually minding your taste, but today you just taste incredible. Like the finest fresh strawberry in the world. 

“Oh, god.” You whine under the overwhelming onslaught of his mouth. He smiles when you cant your hips into his mouth, feeling a fresh gush of wetness on his tongue. He introduces two fingers, so gently stroking over your folds before they delve into you with abandon. 

Ever aware, Aizawa knows all your spots. All the little tricks to have you coming completely undone before he’s even been inside of you yet, anything he can do to hear you crying out his name and leave you struggling to walk on boneless legs, he’ll do. 

And he takes advantage of that now, latching onto your clit and crooking his fingers to brush against that rough spot that always makes you see stars, fucking into you with punishing speed and accuracy as your hips jerk and you desperately try to muffle yourself even just a little bit, but he doesn’t care about the neighbors hearing tonight. 

His thoughts are filled with only you and fucking this quirk bullshit out of his system. His hips grind against the edge of the bed with every sweet moan of his name, his cock twitching when you tumble over the edge, cunt clenching tightly around his fingers. Your hands tangle into his hair tightly, loose pieces falling over his drenched face. 

Pulling his fingers from you, he sucks them clean, wiping the spit and remainders of your juices off on the covers before he pushes back up onto the bed, tendrils of still damp black hair brushing against your collarbone. 

“So, how was dinner?” He asks between heavy breaths as he reaches down and grabs his cock, angling it down to slip into you easily and to the hilt with one stroke. 

You keen at the fullness, still sensitive from your orgasm just a few moments ago, the most gorgeous sight to him when your head tilts back into the blankets and exposes your neck for him to mark up, let everybody know that you are his. 

It’s so juvenile, Aizawa is more than aware, but he saw Hawks flirting with you the other day and it ignited a little something in him, even though he knows you would never betray him like that. 

“Ah, it was sooo good. There was—Ah, Shota,” You start off strong, voice dying off into a whine. “Wish you had been there.” 

Obscene noises fill any silence as he rocks his hips into you, barely pulling out before he’s hitting himself again roughly, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t. I tried to make it.” 

“I know, baby, I know.” You coo, “I’ll tell you more about it after you’re done railing me as long as you tell me how you got hit by— harder, please, oh fuck —this sex quirk.” 

Aizawa snorts though heavy breaths, “Deal.” 

The sight of you underneath him, sweat slicking your skin from the heat radiating off him, smelling so sweet and musky and sexy, he dips his head down and licks over your chest, up to just under your jaw as he snaps his hips into you, salty and sweet and driving him wild. 

Every stroke inside of you feels like the first one, the pleasure leaving his head swimming as he continues the quick pace of snapping his hips into you once more, another orgasm blinding him harshly as he falls forward onto you, barely braced by an arm he throws out to catch himself. He continues to grind into you, curses and whimpers of your name are panted against your collarbone as warm ropes of cum paint your walls.

“Sorry.” He groans, relieved as it seems to be wearing off now, that sense of urgency gripping his body and mind easing off. “I think it’s over.”

“I don’t know, I think this is pretty hot.” You laugh. “Seeing you so wrecked is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, Shota.” 

“Glad someone is enjoying this.”

“And you aren’t?” 

“Oh, I am. You taste so fucking good.” He kisses you, slipping a little tongue before he pulls away and licks at a bead of sweat on your chest. “So good.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” You laugh, pushing a stray damp strand of his hair back behind his ear.

“Uh huh.” He rolls his eyes, a sense of dread filling him when that now familiar heat fogs over his mind again, racing down his back towards his groin. “Fuck.” 

“Again?” 

“Uh huh.” He shudders when you purposefully clench around him. He begins to rock into you again, his hip popping and starting to ache. 

“I heard that.” You comment. “Let me get on top. Have a rest.” 

He rolls the two of you so he’s underneath you, carefully enough that his cock barely moves from where it’s buried in your warm cunt. You sit up and Aizawa can’t help but moan when you shift and the erotic sight of the mixture of your fluids slips from your pussy down his shaft, pooling on the dark hair around the base of his cock. 

You start to move your hips and his eyes are fixed on how gorgeous you look like this, his cock disappearing between your thighs, the slick sound of wet skin on skin, the way your chest jiggles, he remains transfixed as you push yourself to keep the rough pace he set a few moments ago. 

“Shota,” You moan, “Touch me. Please.”

His heart hammers in his chest as he meets the rhythm of your hips, pistoning up into you desperately as he brings his fingers up to caress your chest and rub at your clit in short fast circles that leave you keening. 

When you fall apart on him and Aizawa cums again with a hoarse cry, disgusted yet beyond turned on by the slick mess he’s making out of you, he’s so grateful that it’s you by his side. 

The effects of the quirk subside by the morning after a night filled with exhausted love-making, leaving the two of you sore and soaked in cum and hickies and exhausted— and throwing this set of sheets out as soon as possible.

[pru-dle]

So I read a fic that I’m totally normal about and did not hyper fixate on at all nah 💀 but I’ll be damned it’s so good and it’s so well written, it mixes humor and angst near seamlessly I’m in awe. Anyways belated (?)happy birthday @erinwantstowrite you legend and happy birthday Peter 💪🏽💪🏽

Yes I did learn blender just for this

[darcyolsson]

my only true 911 hot take is that i dont think chris sees buck as his dad, at least not consciously. i think their bond is only as strong as it is because the relationship he has with buck is unaffected by the abandonment issues/negative view he has of his parents. it's why he ran to him when he found out about eddie dating ana, and why he felt comfortable expressing to buck that he feels like "girls just end up leaving anyway" bc that's what his mom did: because buck does not belong to the same mental category as his parents and that's why he can go to him when he feels his parents are betraying him. even if eddie and chris do have an overall positive relationship chris has shown repeatedly that he has issues because of how eddie and shannon behaved during his childhood and buck being a trusted adult that is not a parent is specifically why he feels safe to chris the way he does. that's not to say that buck doesn't essentially function as a second father to him a lot of the time, he does, it's just that chris does not register him that way

[aarkady]

the initial tense exchange between Benítez and Bellini in the book, as well as the scene in the script where Bellini can't place a finger on why he is reacting so strongly to the ordination in pectore, is something I wish the film had not cut off...

because what we are looking at here is not jealousy or "hate", I don't think so. Aldo Bellini has (valid) diplomatic concerns, but I also think he perceives that the previous Pope had something going on behind his back. his close friend and mentor had been machinating without telling him the whole story...and, as the plot thickens, we learn that he had been taking steps to ensure someone worthy would take the chalice, because he knew that Aldo wouldn't get enough support.

In Aldo's eyes, Benítez represents the realisation that, maybe, the Pope had never seen him as the number one pick for a successor; that's the idea that he's so immediately, instinctively opposed against.

and it also makes it all the more powerful that, after all his character development and acknowledgement of fault during the film, he would understand that Benítez, and not him or Lawrence, is the best pick for the future of the church at large. and it is all the more meaningful that Benítez would choose him as the Secretary of State by his side.

[untitledderplord]

editing is so weird but I needed to do a thing with this goobers and this audio- I only saw someone do it with S1 Tag and Star so I wanted to do it with my post S3 bs I got in my brain for Another Place, Another Prison

while Hashtag and Starscream may not be to this point /yet/ I think this is totally the flavor of dynamic theyd be able to get where Tag can just pull him out of his feralness and not even think twice about it

individual frames under the cut

[myokk]

His lips brushed against hers when he spoke again. "Whatever it is, I can help you."

Eloise shivered at his proximity and leaned in a bit closer. Their lips were touching now, an approximation of a kiss, but neither of them moved to break it from its liminal meaning. Maybe if she breathed the words that she couldn't speak into his mouth, they would be swallowed whole by him. Maybe he could help her. Maybe putting them into reality somehow, not just allowing the events to remain some nebulous thing that was consuming her, could help.

"I..." the feeling of his lips brushing against hers as she tried to speak made her stomach clench in that strange way it had before, and all she wanted to do was lean into his embrace again. Eloise closed the distance again between them, her lips moving softly, sweetly against his as she whispered what she could not tell him about that weekend. She didn't know if he could understand her, but did it really matter?

She whispered everything she didn't have the words to articulate otherwise.

Sebastian tried pulling his head away, to better listen to her, perhaps, but Eloise chased his mouth with her own and before she knew it, he was as lost in the kiss as she was. It was...addicting, to be so close to him, to smell the faint cinnamon scent that always seemed to cling to his robes, to hear the small breaths coming from him - from her - as the kiss deepened. Eloise's wrapped her arms around Sebastian's neck, soon abandoning any words as she gave herself to him completely. She pressed herself tightly against him and his hands moved down to her waist, going up and down her back, causing her to shiver at the touch, grabbing at her and pulling her even closer but it wasn't enough. Sebastian's mouth broke away from hers and she whimpered in protest that soon turned into soft gasps as he started to kiss her jaw, her neck, going down as he slid her robe slightly off of her shoulder and kissed her collarbone.

It was as if his touch was sending jolts of pure magic through her body every time he made contact with her skin. Eloise hadn't known that anything could feel like this, so intimate, so lovely, as Sebastian's lips on her shoulder. But then, whispered softly, feverishly to her collarbone, lips brushing against her skin causing a shiver to run down her spine -

From chapter 25 of Before It Felt Like A Sin 🫶

[specific-dreamer]

i love paul holden but don’t ask me anything about paul holden. every hc i have for him starts and ends with darry

the quote “Barbie has a great day every day, but Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him.” but paul is literally ken

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

"What flowers do you like?"

Wriothesley asks one day, trying to seem nonchalant. Trying to make it look not as obvious that he's already mentally running through a list of Fontanian florists.

But you hm to yourself, frowning. "I... don't know. I've never really received flowers before," you say with a shrug, acting like it's no big deal. Wriothesley, though, has to catch himself before he drops the pen in his hand.

"Never?" He asks with wide eyes, head snapping in your direction, jaw dropping the slightest bit. "None of your past relationships ever got you flowers?"

You shake your head, not really bothered by the fact, and although you're nonchalant about it, Wriothesley immediately feels the gears in his head turn. That mental list of florists runs through his mind at double the speed. His finger absently taps on the wood of his desk, mind racing as he does some rough estimations. Unaware and unsuspecting, you merely go back to perusing the books in his office, running your hands over their worn spines, oblivious to the clench in Wriothesley's jaw and the determined glint in his eye.

A week later, and Wriothesley returns from the surface with a bouquet in his hands. It's nothing too big or ostentatious— that's not really his style. Instead, it's simple in its beauty and easy on the eyes. All sorts of flowers have been included, even ones not native to Fontaine. Cecilias from Mondstadt, Glaze Lillies and Qingxin from Liyue, Padisarahs from Sumeru, and even Fluorescent Flowers from Inazuma's Chinju forest, among others. All arranged by hands more skilled and talent more honed than he could ever hope to achieve.

Wriothesley knocks on your door, heart stuck in his throat, and can't help but laugh a little at how cliche it all looks. Him, standing in front of your door with a bunch of flowers in hand, desperately trying to fight down his blush when he hears a 'coming!' faintly behind your door.

When you swing it open, your greeting is caught in your throat, eyes wide as they behold the blue and white blossoms Wriothesley brought for you.

"What... what's this? What's the occasion?"

But he shakes his head, and at his behest you take the bouquet into your arms, holding it carefully. When you bury your nose among the petals, they smell sweet but not saccharinely overpowering. It's enough to make you want to cry.

"No occasion," Wriothesley says, one hand going to scratch at the back of his neck, his smile shy and bashful. "I just wanted to get them for you. Wanted to be the first person to ever get you a bouquet of flowers, you know? But importing them took longer than i expected and, well, I told the florist that I was giving it to someone very special so they spent some extra time on the arrangement..." He trails off, clearing his throat nervously. "...Do you like it?"

And that sets loose the tears behind your eyes.

Wriothesley panics a little when he sees how you blubber, sobs making your shoulders shake as you hide your face in the flowers. His eyes widen, a frantic apology on the tip of his tongue while he fears that he messed up somehow. But then you tackle him into a hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close until you can bury your head in his chest and cry. His arms wrap around you almost hesitantly, but when you nuzzle closer into his embrace and they tighten around you.

You're barely able to speak through your tears, words muffled around his undoubtedly ruined shirt.

"I love it." I love you, you really mean.

And how can you not? This sweetheart of a man bought you flowers just because he wanted to. Because no one else had before, and he wanted to be the first person to do so. All his sporadic trips to the surface for the past week make sense— you doubt procuring so many imported flowers so quickly was an easy task on top of troubleshooting the various hiccups of the fortress and sorting through some documents that found themselves on his desk. But he did it anyway, just because he thought it'd make you happy.

"I'm glad," Wriothesley murmurs. He rocks you back and forth in his embrace until your happy tears begin to subside. Then he clears his throat. "So, can I buy you another one next week, too?"

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[alexalblondo]

Alex: I love Suzuka. Fave track fr

Suzuka: