#How far do you think you will get with that? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafesangelita · 3 days ago

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♡ after a nasty break up, you and rafe find yourselves at the same valentine’s day party, both of you on a mission to distract yourselves for the night. what started as a petty competition to piss each other off, soon turned into a competition to see who would tap out first..

warnings: toxic!rafe, mentions of stalking, jealousy, oral (m. receiving), fingering, face fucking, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, degradation, dirty talk, orgasm denial, hair pulling, slapping, choking, biting, asphyxiation, very little blood, multiple orgasms

a/n: now presenting… ‘EXES AND O’S’ 🤍 this was originally a fluffy prompt with frat!rafe.. idk how we ended up here but i hope you love it nonetheless <3

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 2.5k

“what about him? he’s cute.” you followed chanel’s line of vision, your eyes landing on a guy with curly brown hair, a soft smile, and freckles that dusted across his cheeks. “he’s too cute.” you looked away, sighing to yourself as chanel snickered at your side. “oh, i’m sorry, i forgot you only like guys who look like they’re damn near unapproachable.” just then, you spotted rafe in the corner with another girl, that stupid flirtatious look adorning his face as he spared you a single glance. he knew you were looking at him, his hand trailing down the stranger’s back until he grabbed a handful of her ass through her dress.

truth be told, rafe didn’t really care about the girl in front of him. he was at this party for one reason, and one reason only; pussy. after you two ended things in a fit of rage, rafe couldn’t stop thinking about you, even going as far as stalking all of your socials and camping outside your house just to catch a glimpse of you since you enforced a strict ‘no contact’ rule. at the end of the day, he had needs, and his preferred need didn’t want shit to do with him, so now he was here; telling this girl whatever she wanted to hear in hopes he could ‘hit it and quit it’ as soon as possible.

he hated how sexy you looked sitting there. hair freshly done, your face was in what you called ‘full glam’, but your outfit? he was on the verge of dragging you out of the house and taking you home with him just for wearing it. a black see through dress, that he indeed could see through, black strappy heels that hugged your calves perfectly, and his personal favorite; a black lace choker with a ribbon in the front. to put it simply, you looked like sex on legs. “are you even listening to me?” rafe snapped out of his trance, a shit-eating grin playing on your lips while he cleared his throat awkwardly.

he was so pathetic, he had a free opportunity to get his dick wet standing right in front of him and he still couldn’t help but get distracted at the sight of you. if he wanted to make you mad, he needed to have actual competition, and just like both of you knew; there was no such thing. if rafe was going that low, you were going to go even lower. getting up from your spot on the couch, rafe’s eyes followed your every move as you made your way to the crowded living room. the lights grew dim, one of his favorite songs playing over the speakers as you started dancing.

you weren’t even by yourself for a full minute before you felt a pair of large hands snake around your waist, the person’s frontside digging into the soft flesh of your ass as your hips moved against the mystery man. rafe felt his eye twitch, his jaw clenching as you looked up just in time to hold your new dancing partner close by the back of their neck. “you fucking bitch..” he whispered to himself. as if you could read his lips, you turned around, looking up at the hottest guy in the room. besides your ex-boyfriend, of course. he had dark hair, a chiseled jawline, and was exactly the type to make rafe pissed.

pulling him down to your head level, you leaned in and kissed him, your eyes staying on rafe’s the entire time. at first, rafe was just gonna let you have your moment and let you think you got the last laugh.. but then he saw the guy’s hand slip underneath your dress and your tongue slip out of your mouth. “fuck it.” rafe nudged the girl off of his arm and stormed upstairs, your chest blooming with pride as you watched him disappear. once he was out of your sight, you pulled away from the stranger with a roll of your eyes, leaving the poor guy confused in the middle of the living room.

now that rafe was gone, you were bored once again, your phone going off inside your purse.

[10:10 PM] chanel <3: come upstairs!! hottie alert..

your eyebrows knitted in confusion at the message. ‘hottie alert’, chanel did not talk like that. adjusting the hem of your dress, you made your way upstairs where a line for the bathroom wrapped around the hallway. you could feel everyone’s gazes burning into your skin, your eyes scanning for your bestie in the crowded area. walking past some of the bedrooms, you paused once you reached the last door on the right.

“give me my phone you fucking psychopath!” the voice belonged to none other than chanel, your nails clicking against the metal knob before you swung the door open. “what the fuck are you doing?!” you shoved rafe in the chest before ripping chanel’s phone out of his hand. “i wouldn’t have to text you from your friend’s phone if you didn’t have me blocked on everything.” he spat, a teasing smile gracing his lips as you whispered something in chanel’s ear. “..are you sure?” you had just told her to give you a moment alone with him, your bestie feeling a little uneasy at the idea.

“trust me, i’ll be fine,” you scoffed, “look at him.” both of you turned around just in time to see rafe stand up with a wince.

you may or may not have pushed him straight into the chiseled edge of the hardwood dresser that sat in the corner of the room..

chanel accepted her phone as you handed it to her, making sure to shoot rafe one more glare before shutting the door behind her. rafe watched you click the lock, his figure towering over your own as he caged you between the wall. “posing as my friend to get me upstairs.. really, rafe? you look desperate as fuck.” you laughed, the degrading sound turning him on. he laughed along before wrapping a hand around your neck, the smile dropping from his face the second he leaned into you. “so what does that make you? ‘over here shoving your tongue down some random dude’s throat.”

you scoffed before rafe pressed into your windpipe, your eyes fluttering shut at the force. “you started it.” your voice barely came out above a whisper, a shiver running down your spine when you felt his breath fan against your cheek. “yeah? well, then i guess that means i should finish it too then, huh?” before you had a chance to get out some catty remark, he gripped the sides of your neck, dragging you over to the bed before pinning you down by your wrists. he took this time to examine your outfit closely, his nostrils flaring as your nipples were visible through the fabric.

“looks like you came here for the same reason i did,” he laughed, “what? you don’t got any panties on either?” you struggled against him, thrashing in his hold while your heel clad feet dangled off of the plush mattress. “why do you care? you’re not getting anything.” rafe smirked, his eyebrows lifting as if you just proposed a challenge. taking one of his hands off of your wrists, you wasted no time in landing a slap across his cheek, the action only making him grow hard in his boxers. “the fuck was that supposed to do?” he laughed, “that’s just foreplay for me, baby.”

you groaned, rolling your eyes before you felt rafe’s hand slip underneath the waistband of your panties. all objections died in your throat when his fingers worked skillfully around your clit, your body jolting at the familiar stroke of his digits. you hated that you let him get to know you like the back of his hand. the man knew what it took to get you purring, your hips chasing his touch for more friction. “look at you, you’re so fucking easy.” you shoved his chest in a poor attempt to get him to back off, the action deemed useless as he took your hand and pressed kisses to your knuckles instead.

“i hate you.” you moaned. without warning, rafe slipped both his middle and ring finger inside your soaked entrance, your arousal contradicting your words. “hate me? it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it..” you cried out when he curled his digits, the tips of his fingers pressing against your sweet spot. it didn’t take long before you were trembling, your thighs threatening to snap shut around his wrist. one look up at rafe and you could see just how much he was enjoying this, the erection in his pants catching your attention. you decided right then and there you weren’t going to be the only one coming undone.

palming him through his jeans, rafe’s mouth opened as he let your other hand free, your dark gaze meeting his own before you were working him out of his pants. he gave you a little bit of leeway, allowing you to sit up just enough to be eye level with his throbbing cock before he ran his tip across your lips. “you know what to do with it, baby.” poking your tongue out, rafe groaned as you held him at the base, taking the first half of him between your lips. “see? this is what your mouth is for.. ‘it’s not for all that fucking attitude you give me.” he stroked the side of your cheek before cradling your head with both hands.

just as you rested your hands on his thighs, rafe tugged on the roots of your hair before forcing himself to hit the back of your throat. you whined, your nails digging into the denim of his jeans. asshole, you thought. rafe could see the combative look in your eyes, a knowing smirk gracing his lips before you swallowed around his length, drawing a hiss from the man above you. he continued dragging your mouth up and down his length until he was panting, his eyes rolling back the same way they did before he was going to shoot his load. pinching his side, rafe groaned as you pulled away with a gasp, slipping out from under him.

his cock was standing straight up against his stomach, your saliva running down the underside of it while his chest rose and fell with each breath. “you were just waiting to do that shit to me, weren’t you?” he stood up, kicking what was left of his jeans off of his ankles before wrapping a fist in your hair and slamming you against the wall. you yelped, a teasing grin taking over your features as he hiked your dress up, lifting you off of the floor with ease. rafe held you, his large palms squeezing the globes of your ass before slapping the flesh there harshly.

rafe leaned in to kiss you, his ego taking another hit when you moved your head to the side. “i’m about to fuck you stupid and you can’t even let me taste you?” he tsked, “is that really how you wanna be on valentine’s day?” you scoffed at his words, your eyebrows knitting together as he pulled your panties to the side. “you don’t even care about valentine’s day. you said it was corny, remember?” he ran his leaking tip between your folds, a whimper leaving your lips when you felt him nudge your sensitive bud. “yeah, i said a lot of shit, i know that, alright?” rafe grabbed your chin, forcing your head to stay in place, “but i want that to change.. ‘want things to be different between us.”

it was hard to deny him when he was sliding into you, your arms wrapping around his neck as he moaned in your ear. “you say that every single time..” you grumbled, your walls fluttering around the girth of him. rafe bit down on the sensitive part of your neck, a small gasp emitting from your mouth before he started rocking into you. “i mean it, though,” he grunted, “i want you back at home, at tanneyhill.” slowly but surely, rafe kissed up your jaw until you hesitantly gave in and let him take your lips with his. it was searing— the way your mouths melted into one was nothing short of addicting.

rafe’s hips slammed into your own with a precision that turned you into a puddle of nothing, your nails running along the back of his head as his chest pressed into yours. “you want me back home?” you bit his bottom lip, tugging on it until he cursed out loud. you ended up pulling a little too hard, a small bead of blood pooling in the indent you managed to make with your teeth. rafe was turned on out of his mind, his hips moving faster as he began thumbing at your clit. “fuck— yes, i need you back home. m’gettin tired of this stalking bullshit.” you giggled at the revelation, pulling him in for another kiss.

both of you moaned at the metallic taste on your tongues, your hand snaking down to fist his t-shirt. “prove it then.” that was all rafe needed to hear before he went all in, his thrusts growing rapid and hard— your head knocking against the wall behind you. your moans were so graphic, rafe couldn’t believe he lasted this long without hearing them. pretty soon, you were gasping for air, the band in your tummy snapping as rafe watched the way you lost yourself in his arms. you were so fucking pretty like this. swollen lips, heated skin, sparkly eyes and your now fucked up hair. you looked absolutely perfect.

having been denied an orgasm the first time, he had no idea how he hadn’t filled you with his seed yet, his climax just in arm’s reach. “please let me cum,” rafe pleaded, his abs constricting as the familiar heat began to simmer in the pit of his stomach, “i haven’t finished in fucking months.” you did a double take, your eyes widening slightly. “are you tapping out, ��cameron?” the man in front of you rolled his eyes before burying his face in the curve of your neck. “are you really gonna make me say it?” your cunt was sucking him in like a vice, his eyes screwing shut as he started falling over the edge.

“of course i am. tell me i win before i unwrap my legs around your waist.” rafe gave in immediately, a pathetic ‘you win, you win, baby!’ was grunted into your flesh as you felt the hot ropes of his cum paint your insides. he stilled, his cock twitching until you took him for all that he had. rafe’s fingers dug into your skin, leaving crescents engraved in their wake. “shit.” he sighed, peppering your exposed chest with kisses. very gently, rafe carried you over to the bed where he adjusted your dress. “as much as i love the way this looks on you, you’re keeping this dress inside the house and that’s it.”

grabbing your phone, you opened your text thread with your best friend. rafe could hear the rapid clicking of your nails on your screen, his eyebrows knitting together as he pulled his jeans back on. “what are you doing?” he asked, craning his neck to steal a glance over your shoulder. “i’m just letting chanel know we didn’t kill each other.”

fair point.

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 days ago

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Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

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littlelamy · 1 day ago

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𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓸𝔀𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝔁

lamy's notes: something for you guys to read during the game

the game is on, but rafe doesn’t give a shit. doesn’t care about the screaming commentators or the roaring crowd on the screen, doesn’t care that his friends are in the other room, glued to the tv. all he cares about is you—spread out beneath him on the couch, legs wrapped tight around his waist, eyes glassy with need.

“keep quiet,” he mutters, but it’s pointless, because he doesn’t actually mean it. he likes the way you squirm, likes the way your breath catches when he presses his cock deeper, stretching you open in slow, deliberate strokes. the noise from the tv masks your soft moans, but he hears them, feels them vibrating against his lips when he presses his mouth to yours.

“rafe—” your voice is a whisper, a plea, and he groans, gripping your hips tighter, dragging you closer until there’s not a single inch of space left between you. “they’re gonna hear—”

he smirks, nipping at your jaw, at your neck, at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “let ‘em.” his voice is thick, wrecked, dark with something possessive. he wants them to know. wants them to hear just how good he’s fucking you, how you’re unraveling under him while they sit oblivious in the next room, thinking football is the most exciting thing happening tonight.

his thrusts get rougher, deeper, each snap of his hips pushing you further into the couch. your nails dig into his back, a desperate attempt to ground yourself as pleasure coils hot and tight in your stomach. he can feel it, can see it in the way your body trembles, in the way your lips part on a silent gasp.

“gonna cum for me?” he breathes, his hand slipping between you, fingers rubbing tight, teasing circles over your clit. you nod, too far gone to form words, and he groans, his own release creeping up fast. “fuck—go on, baby. let go.”

and you do. you shatter beneath him, muffling your cry against his shoulder as your body clenches, pulses, drags him right over the edge with you. he buries himself deep, cursing low and rough as he spills inside you, hips stuttering, body shaking.

for a moment, neither of you move. the only sound is the distant roar of the crowd from the tv, the aftermath of a touchdown neither of you saw. rafe lets out a breathless chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “guess we missed that play.”

he pulls back just enough to see your face, to watch the way you smile, dazed and satisfied. “worth it,” you murmur, and he grins, already thinking about round two before halftime.

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kisakunt · 3 days ago

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HAVE YOU TRIED THIS ONE?

their favorite position!

S. GOJO

yab yum.

Sue him. Gojo is a loud man, and a freaky one too, but God forbid he enjoy a little bit of intimacy. It’s a bit awkward when you first try it; his legs are so long that even criss-cross, there’s a little too much room in between each thigh, once you have yours around his waist and your arms around his neck it’s awkward trying to even get it in, and the rocking is a rough start. But when you perfect it? Gojo is through the fucking roof. Satoru’s eyes hurt like hell, but he loves eye contact during sex and there’s no better time for it than in yab yum. He lets himself go; the closeness between you two, the way he can feel every inch of you, the fact for once he’s not in control. He’s vulnerable, he’s connected, and it feels so fucking good. When he cums, his legs tense a little bit more, making it easier for you to keep up with your pace. He falls apart under you, grabbing your face weakly as his head falls back. Literally perfect position for him.

T. FUSHIGURO

full nelson.

The motherfucker. Toji is strong. He’s a big guy, it doesn’t matter how tall you are or how much you weigh, he can support it. Part of the appeal is how defenseless you are, how much he gets to show off, the fact you’re like prey to him basically. It never goes too particularly deep, so if he’s itching to bruise you, he’ll let go of your legs and have you put your feet on the bed while you lie on him so he can fucking hammer you. But, in the real full nelson, he keeps it up for as long as he can. He knows just how to hit your g-spot with it, he curves to where you clench on him just right in that cute little way you do, he’s mean in the shortness of each stroke. He loves feeling your body go limp on him, he loves watching your head struggle to fall with his arms behind your neck, he loves feeling your ass move perfect against him. He’s got good stamina, too. If you begged and pleaded, Toji could cum quick— but he never would. He likes to torture you with his dick. He likes to make it hurt, make you weak, make it to where you can’t walk for days after, and the full nelson gets you sore fast.

C. KAMO

the hook.

Another intimacy lover. Choso worships you. He loves everything about making love to you. He loves your noises, the way your body folds on itself when he contorts you, how wet you get for him. The hook is perfect. It’s deep and, above all else, he thinks it’s the position you feel most good in. Whenever he can, Choso has each of your legs up on top of each of his shoulders, angled up perfect with you. He likes looking down at you, seeing your face all scrunched up and beautiful. He likes the way you beg for him. He likes how simultaneously close yet far he is from you. And when it gets all too much, he throws his head back and you get to look up at him and watch him fall apart above you. Your moans intertwine, he strokes perfect, and when he’s about to cum, he’ll break position and lower your legs just to wrap his arms around you and pull you incredibly closer.

R. SUKUNA

hands behind the ankles.

The fucking freak. No, seriously, the fucking freak. It doesn’t take him long to suggest— demand— the position to you. Obviously, Sukuna likes control. There’s never been a moment he hasn’t liked control and there’s never been a moment he’s had to worry about not having it. So that’s hardly been any different in your sex life. But when he first pulled out a pair of police grade handcuffs, you laughed— albeit a little anxiously. It’s a fucking workout for you, honestly, to hold yourself up with your legs in the air and your hands cuffed behind them. Sukuna lives for how you’re even more at his expense than you already were. He fits snug in the place between your legs, balls slapping against your lower ass every time he thrusts, pelvic bone meshing with your plush. You’re weak like this, defenseless, a perfect little toy for Sukuna to fuck, and he’d be damned if he weren’t obsessed with it.

#like tmi but the hook will do it like no other #had to give it to choso #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru smut #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #gojo satoru x reader #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 3 days ago

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As someone a bit too young to have seen Bleach the first time around, AEIWAM is still consuming a crucial portion of my brain cells. So imagine my surprise when I looked up Tousen, the reason you started this behemoth of an alternate universe, on TV tropes.

Among other shocking revelations...

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE JOINED AIZEN OF HIS OWN FREE WILL IN CANON???? What do you MEAN, TITE KUBO, that the reason your Tousen wants to destroy the Shinigami is that his crush died of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE???

Who is this man and what has he done with my eternally suffering Tousen?

You understand why I had to take custody of this poor bastard.

I can respect what Kubo was going for- Aizen was right in the fact that Soul Society does suck, and the extended canon is that Tousen's crush was killed by her husband, everyone knew it, and nobody would prosecute the husband because he was a Noble. Canon Tousen is, more or less, suffering from the same kind of rage-based brainrot that is unfortunately so common these days- the idea that because a system is imperfect, or ever corrupt, that it's a good idea to tear the whole thing down/restart the universe (the real Path Of Least Harm is of course, the much more complicated and frustrating work of Dis-and-re-mantling the system piece-by-piece without leaving vulnerable people to fend for themselves, but that isn't as emotionally satisfying or fun to draw as senseless destruction, but I digress).

but his arc is only barely on the page at all, mostly after his death and contains one of the blandest and most obnoxious tropes- fridging- and the whole thing falls flat. It also fails to explore the FASCINATING angle of disability and tbh, racism in soul society- two VERY fucked up things that would very much justify his rage. But it's shonen and the series was deep in production hell at that point, and tousen was far from the only victim. I still don't know what the fuck Gin's deal was.

ANYWAY,

Notable changes between Canon!Tousen and AEIWAM!Tousen and some art under the cut:

Kakiyo is Kaname's adopted sister, and despite looking nothing alike, since they re-incarnated in soul society at the same time, they regard themselves as twins.

Kakiyo does kind of a lot in the plot before her demise- she's responsible for introducing Kaname and Komamura, teaches Zaraki and Yachiru how to read, and unintentionally helps Aizen by recommending him to be promoted to third seat in the 5th division, because she and Kiganjo were thinking about starting a family soon, and Aizen would make a good stand-in for her while she was on maternity leave.

She also gets to do a bunch of stuff after she dies too!

The characters in Tousen's name approximately mean "Necessary Scholar" and make an allusion to a legendary scholar from China who came to Japan to find the elixir of immortality for the emperor. He returns with an elixir that stops the emperor from aging, and the emperor kills him so he can't make anyone else immortal (the emperor doesn't age, but he's still vulnerable to stabbing, and gets stabbed). I thought that was an extremely fun literary allusion so I'm leaning into it- before he becomes a Shinigami, AEIWAM!Tousen took over the library run by his ans Kakiyo's adopted godparents, and ran a children's literacy program. he has a special interest in information sciences and educational methodology. even among nerds, he's a mega-nerd.

Kakiyo meets and marries Gosuke Kiganjo, who goes back to West 51 to meet his beloved's brother and the weird giant monk that runs the library with him. Kaname is immensely fond of Kiganjo, and has no qualms being the best man at their wedding. He and Gosuke are good friends for the first few years of the marriage, until Aizen gets his claws into Gosuke and slowly drives him insane.

In AEIWAM, Tousen is cursed into going along with the plan by Aizen. Aizen was just going to make Kiganjo kill him, but Gin is getting impatient with Aizen's hogyoku progress, and persuades Aizen into cursing Kaname into compliance instead with a Forbidden Bakudō: Kyuunodo — Ningyō Kugi Saiyaku (人形釘誓約, Puppet Nail Covenant)

I do keep the canon!Tousen's reputation for being pedantic, unecessarily critical and generally kind of boring. The reason for AEIWAM!Tousen's reputation is different: He is kind of a pain in the ass, because he is in Horrific Pain and Deeply Traumatized and that makes people irritable to say the least, and he deliberately cultivates a reputation for being Boring to keep people far, far away from him- and hopefully, far from Aizen as well.

An underrated bit of Canon!Tousen is that Suzumushi is not his zanpakuto. Suzumushi was Kakiyo's zanpakuto, and we see him take the sword from her coffin in the manga. Which is insane because it means HE ACHIEVED BANKAI WITH A ZANPAKUTO THAT WASN'T EVEN HIS. Dude is SEVERELY underrated as a swordsman. In AEIWAM, Suzumushi is still Kakiyo's zanpakuto, and only BARELY clings to life on the last reserves of the Spiritual power Kakiyo put into her before Kaname finds her. Suzumushi persuades him to take her up, enter the academy and bring Kakiyo's killer to justice (Suzumushi has fallen to Aizen's illusion and doesn't know who the killer is). She kind of glosses over how they bond, but she more or less crawls into his soul and supresses Kaname's native Yume-kon that would have been his own Zanpakuto spirit if it had been allowed to awaken. She did make an entirely new Shikai and Bankai for him- the chime that makes people lose conciousness is entirely new, the AOE of Just A Shitload Of Swords was Suzumushi's original Shikai. The Bankai of a space where anyone not touching the sword experiences no sensory input? Suzumushi made it first and foremost as a refuge for Kaname when the pain of the curse became to unbearable.

The biggest difference, of course, is that Kaname lives through the Aizen Arc and gets a Happy Ending: Once he wakes up after the battle, he is free, and chooses to marry the wolfman he's been in love with for centuries. Here's some art of them, finally home:

#kaname tosen #kaname tousen #sajin komamura #AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic

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bitchy-craft · 2 days ago

Text

PICK A CARD: What you need to work on (it can hurt a little)

Hello and welcome to this new reading! I will tell you what you need to work on. I hope you all enjoy it!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Patreon Masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

pick a card

Pile 1:

You need to find balance in your emotions, you need to know and figure out what is good for you, and what you want. And the moment you do know, make sure you do it, even if it hurts, even if you are scared of the outcome. You need to get a hold of your true wishes, your true beliefs and thoughts, and take the control you wish to have. Leave those insecurities, and those fears behind, get through them, and think about your true wish, even if it hurts.

It’s hard to look back at what you’ve been through, the happy moments, the sad and conflicting moments. It’s hard to realise that these good things must come to an end, and hurt is okay to have, you are allowed to feel and acknowledge that hurt, you need to accept it be able to work on it and grow through it.

Extended reading

Pile 2:

Be happy with the little things. You can’t be happy with little progress, because the greater goal hasn’t been accomplished. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sometimes have progress but it still makes you frustrated because it wasn’t the full thing that you wished for.

Learn to realise that little progress can and must be celebrated too, you’re allowed to be proud of yourself for the little things, even if you get disappointed by it. You need to learn to leave those disappointed thoughts behind, accept them and move on. You can be happy and relieved while being disappointed that you didn’t fully succeed. But those little things, those little things are worth celebrating, they can help you gain more confidence and believe as long as you let them, they can make you stronger.

Extended reading

Pile 3:

Don’t just sit around and do nothing while waiting for the luck of the draw. If you want to accomplish something, then go do it. The universe won’t bend for you, you must bend the universe yourself. Don’t think your success will come from nowhere, don’t think the journey to this success will be easy without any obstacles. Every journey has obstacles, and every journey has moments where you want to quit and not continue.

If you want something, go do it. Just because something small happened that you didn’t want to happen, which made you disappointed, it doesn’t mean you should give up. Do not give up and believe the whole universe is against you. Of course, not a single journey is the same, but that doesn’t mean your journey should come easy to you, nor does it mean it should come hard to you. Every journey also teaches you something, and maybe for you, this journey wants to teach you that you must work hard and continue even though certain moments suck.

Extended reading

Pile 4:

You are not better than anyone else, so please stop trying to act like you are. Even if you are not aware of the fact that you act like that, you do. Please watch your words because a lot of things happening around you are just a roll of the dice. If something good happens you’re lucky, and if something bad happens it was just something that would happen one way or another.

Being confident in your knowledge is good, but don’t make yourself believe you know so much, because you don’t. Don’t put your insecurities so far away that your way of coping becomes a burden for others. You can be insecure yet have knowledge, you don’t need to be over-confident with it. And even if you are not confident, don’t try to mask it off. You need to learn how to balance these things. You do not know how much you don’t know, and as you grow older and experience more and more you will realise that you will never know a lot; because there is too much out there to know for your knowledge to be ever considered a lot.

Extended reading

Pile 5:

Go for it, don’t wait around and be scared, do it. It is good that you think about possible dangers and the wish to do it correctly, but over-thinking is also something that exists, and it’s not good. Don’t sit and imagine everything, being able to control everything, if you want it to happen you must do it. Get a grasp of that wish, stand in confidence and become the person you’ve always wanted to become, do the thing you’ve always wanted.

You are insecure, and being insecure is okay, but just because you are insecure it doesn’t mean everything and everyone should handle you with care. Everyone should be treated the same, which includes you. Do you want to do this? Well, it’s a tough world, get ready for it. Don’t be scared and wait around doing nothing, do it or don’t, in the end, you’ll know what you want.

Extended reading

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solxamber · 3 days ago

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Hi there! For the valentines event can I request Ace with romantic implications with the song "30 Second Love Story" by PEGGY with inspired by these specific lyrics? "There are millions of people, and millions of lifetimes And maybe in one of them, I found my voice And I told you I liked you, and then came for coffee In five years we're married, a house and a family" I know you said you are getting a lot of Ace requests but the brain rot is real if you're getting Ace-fatigue you can go with Sebek instead!

"I spent my whole life in a moment with you" || Ace Trappola

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: 30 Second Love Story by PEGGY

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 890

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Pining, Confessions

Ace is in love with you.

Painfully, irreversibly, hopelessly in love with you.

It hits him in flashes, in moments so ordinary they shouldn't feel life-changing—but they do. Like when you pass him a drink without him asking, already knowing what he likes. Like when you shoot him a grin after winning a game against him, smug and shining. Like when you nudge him with your shoulder while walking side by side, laughing, your warmth so close yet so far.

It happens when you hold his hand casually, fingers laced without a second thought, as if you don’t notice the way his heart hammers against his ribs. It happens when you lean into him during a movie, your weight comfortable and trusting, completely unaware that his pulse is racing.

He thinks about a future where this is normal—not just fleeting touches and teasing words, but something real. Something that lasts.

Mornings where he wakes up to you tangled in his sheets, sunlight catching in your hair. Breakfasts where he sneaks up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as you make coffee, pressing his face into the crook of your neck just to hear you laugh.

Lazy afternoons spent wrapped in each other on the couch, sharing popcorn and complaints about a bad movie. Evenings where he watches you from across the dinner table and still thinks, Damn, I love you.

A life with you. A future where he’s yours, and you’re his.

He dreams about it more than he should, and every time, he tells himself to stop.

He can’t ruin this. You’re his best friend. If he messes up—if he confesses and you don’t feel the same—then what? He’d lose everything.

So he stays quiet, keeps it locked inside his chest, lets himself drown in his own longing.

Until the day he doesn’t.

It’s a golden afternoon, the kind where the sun paints everything in its soft warmth, and you’re sitting next to him, talking animatedly about something—Ace isn’t even sure what, because all he can focus on is you.

The way your eyes light up when you get excited. The way your hand moves, expressive and unguarded. The way your fingers are wrapped around his, absently squeezing like it’s second nature.

And that’s when it happens.

His heart stutters, skips a beat, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

Why is he waiting? Why is he so scared?

You are his best friend. The one who laughs at his stupid jokes. The one who sticks by him even when he’s being a pain in the ass. The one who makes life better just by existing in it.

How could he not love you?

And how could he keep pretending that he doesn’t?

Before he can think, before doubt can creep in, he moves.

His free hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek gently. You blink at him, startled, lips parting—ready to ask something, maybe—but he doesn’t give you the chance.

He leans in and kisses you.

It’s soft at first, tentative, his breath catching as he waits for you to pull away. But you don’t. You freeze for only a second before melting into him, fingers tightening around his.

The moment you respond—when your lips move against his, when you kiss him back with just as much warmth—it feels like something inside him clicks into place.

He’s never believed in fate, but this—this feels damn close to it.

When he pulls back, his heart is pounding, his stomach twisting in nervous anticipation. But the way you look at him, stunned and breathless and smiling—it’s everything he needs.

You don’t say anything. You just squeeze his hand, as if to say, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

And that’s all he needs to know.

Ace wakes up to the weight of you in his arms.

Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the sheets, and he takes a moment to just—breathe. It's been five years, and he still can't believe this is real.

Your head is tucked beneath his chin, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Your warmth is familiar now, expected, like it’s always meant to be there.

He shifts slightly, his fingers tracing absent patterns along your back, and you stir with a sleepy hum.

“Mm… Ace?” Your voice is drowsy, muffled against his chest.

“Morning,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You tilt your face up to look at him, eyes still heavy with sleep, and he thinks, I’ll never get tired of this.

Never get tired of the way your nose scrunches slightly when you wake up. Never get tired of how soft you are against him, how safe you make him feel. Never get tired of the matching rings on your fingers, the quiet proof of the promise you made to each other.

“Five more minutes,” you mumble, nuzzling into him.

Ace huffs a laugh. “You say that every morning."

“And yet, I still get five more minutes every time.”

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair.

This is it.

The life he dreamed of—the one he was once too scared to reach for—is now his reality.

And as he kisses you awake, slow and sweet, he knows he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #twst ace #ace x reader #ace trappola #ace

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champagnesupernoel · 17 hours ago

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not op but thought i'd try and answer/give my two cents. i live in the deep south / gulf coast which is mostly rural and suburban so there's not a lot of options compared to more urban populated areas (think newly popular eco friendly , water burial, etc type deals) but for legal, financial, and all other ways accessible reasons. looking at my state laws specifically, it's not uncommon for a cemetery to Not require embalming. if you went embalming free you'd still need a container most likely, possibly a burial permit depending on what land you're using. but if you're wanting to stick to a cemetery, you would just find one that doesn't require embalming. my state doesnt have ground water rules or a lot of regulation on this but some states do. i feel eco-friendly is somewhat more accessible than families realize but there are still major barriers such as financial and location etc. i mean to say it's not the most far fetched idea, but depending on /how/ rural you are, it could be less accessible. i wouldnt call them functionally impossible and i do think there's less knowledge about them which contributes to the inaccessibility. cemeteries probably dont advertise that they don't require embalming. you'd likely have to speak with someone there and find out. at least i dont often see ones near me advertising that. but like i said, looking at my state laws etc, it's not uncommon for them to not require it but they aren't making it super publicly known either. as far as how special the site is in terms of regulations depends on the state. if you're rural, have a plot of land deemed fit, you coudl theoretically start a small family cemetery. again looking at my state, you get your land approved and get the burial permit. if it's your own cemetery you *may* be able to figure out a way to go container free if you want. again my state doesn't have a ton of regulation regarding this so there's probably a legal loophole or lack there of allowing it.

fun funeral facts

embalming, the process of chemically preserving a corpse, is typically not required by law. unless you need to transport the body long-distance or postpone the burial, it’s 100% a vanity thing.

a body still rots in air-tight conditions. so “protective” or “sealed” caskets are basically a scam, and anything fancy like metal is a waste of money.

want a beautiful casket for a viewing, but think burning or burying an expensive piece of hardwood is a waste of money and trees? rentals exist.

you don’t need a coffin for cremation. the minimum requirement is that the body be in a “cremation container,” which is a simple cardboard box.

home funerals are an option. you don’t need to hand the body over to a funeral home, and you can keep their involvement to a minimum.

natural burial sites exist. you can have your unembalmed body straight up thrown in the dirt to be tree food, if you want.

there are a lot of funeral homes that will prey on your ignorance and vulnerability in order to get as much money out of you as possible. they may imply optional certain services are legally mandatory, steer you away from cheaper options, charge additional costs for what’s supposed to be all-inclusive services, etc.

one person’s death is another person’s profit. know your rights, do your research, and apply the same scrutiny you would to any other business.

#death #sorry forgot to tag

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fushiguruuzzzz · 2 days ago

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KUROO loves skin to skin contact. it’s not a sexual thing — he sees you as much more than that, but the gentle intimacy of running his calloused hands over the plush expanse of your body is something he longs for every moment he isn’t experiencing it. his hands always find a way to snake beneath your (probably his) hoodie, gently nudging the fabric up and feeling the way your stomach rises and falls with each breath. when he can, he presses his cheek to your chest, the gentle thrum of your heart in your ribs coaxing him into a far less cruel universe, one where it’s just the two of you. his body is a crushing weight, but an undeniably fulfilling pressure as he envelops you in his warmth. his presence is mildly suffocating as is the way he cages you in, but the lack of breath makes your head spin and your pulse quicken just right.

the press of his nose into your neck as he mumbles to you. the squeeze of his palms as he works the stress of the day from your shoulders (which he insists you let him do, no matter how much you insist on being fine, because he knows you need it). and, his favourite of all: peeling his shirt off after a long day and bathing in the silence that comes with your presence.

“mmph…” he hummed, the sound muffled and nearly consumed by your chest. your fingers ghosted over the skin of his back, drawing gentle, barely-there shapes. he shifted, weight pushing you further down into the mattress as if he could possibly be any closer.

“you know,” you began, a hint of fond amusement deep in your tone. “if you put any less distance between us, we might just merge into one.”

I wouldn’t mind that, he thought. he wouldn’t mind your very souls stitching themselves into each other if it meant staying like this forever. he thinks that might already be the case, for now. because yes, tomorrow there is work and stress and the chaos of everyone but you, but today he is comfortable and quiet and goosebumps rack up his spine with every touch — and there is nothing in the world but your humble abode and the love between you. so he smiles, lazy but affectionate nonetheless, and lets out a hot breath against your skin as he speaks.

“that wouldn’t be so bad.”

a/n: do I tag gen taglist in these typa things yeah or nah. also forgive me for not doing recs or thdla im sick so this is what u get

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literallyjusttoa · 2 days ago

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I think I'm gonna make a reblog chian of all the little phrases and Apollo uses throughout ToA, now that I'm rereading it. Bc like, he has such a unique way of speaking, and I really wanna dig into it, you know? Ok let's start.

He says "heavens help me" instead of "heaven help me" using the plural the same way demigods do with "oh my gods". I'm guessing this is an acknowledgment of other pantheons? Or I'm looking too far into it, I've just never heard this phrase with a plural "heavens" before.

He calls Cade and Mikey "Ruffians" . And he makes fun of the arrow for being Shakespearean.

He also refers to people as "Mortals" a lot here, which I remembered him doing, but now I want to keep track and see if he keeps that up throughout all the books, or if it peters out near the end.

"I thought how amusing it would be if I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to death" I honestly love how violent Apollo's thoughts can be sometimes. Like, you can tell he's someone who has done shit like this before.

I also want to keep track of all the little anecdotes Apollo brings up, so we'll start with the guitar contest against Chuck Berry in 1957, which apparently ended with him getting repeatedly stomped on.

"But something told me this was not she" II love how it's the little things that really get across how old Apollo is. Rick could've easily just said "It wasn't her" or something, but instead he had Apollo phrase this in a way that is far more formal, and more reminiscent of the grammatical patterns of old english. Idk it's just really cool.

(Side note that's not connected to Apollo: Meg's glasses are black? I feel like I've been living a lie, I've been coloring them red for years lol)

God his metaphors are just so striking. Like, I can imagine the phrase "Whatever was left of my pride turned into ice water and trickled into my socks" but I don't want to, because that's such a visceral feeling. I like that Apollo inadvertently proving how poetic he is by making the reader as uncomfortable as possible.

I think I'm gonna start crying out "Horrors!" when I'm upset to. I think I deserve that level of drama.

ahh the classic "My blessings upon you!" Again, I love how every little line characterizes him. Either it's overly formal, like before, or subtly arrogant, like here, or both. It's so fun.

I need to write him saying "Sacred Sibyl!" more. Because that is such a fun little term. Rolls right off the tongue, honestly.

I think I'm gonna leave it there for now, but trust that I will definitely be adding more to this later. Bc Lester-speak is so fun to really look into.

#trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #meg mccaffrey #sunny speaks #long post #shut up sunny #what should I tag this specifically #Lester-isms #Yeah I think that's it #This was only the first 3 chapters + the first page of chapter 4 btw. This is gonna be so long lmao #hope that's not annoying to you guys

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suksatoru · 20 hours ago

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if there's one thing sae itoshi knows about you, it's that you are shameless when it comes to his back muscles.

he's used to feeling your curious hands rubbing up and over the slopes and expanse of his back in the early hours of the morning. and you're cheeky—you make him shiver under the duvet whenever you place those feather light kisses all over him.

you start by moving the hair resting at the nape of his neck, pressing a single kiss onto the soft skin before gliding your lips downwards, your path traveling to his shoulder blades. and from there, you move down to his back.

sae is used to it now. the moment he feels your fingers brush against his cheek and move towards his neck—he hides the small, rare smile threatening to break out onto his face by smushing his face into his pillow. today, you start by pressing a soft kiss onto his cheek.

"good morning, handsome," you giggle, eyes gleaming and far too lively for it being six am in the morning as sae hums sleepily, his voice gravely and deep with exhaustion. instinctively, sae rolls onto his stomach for you, folding his arms and resting his head onto his forearms in the process.

you're crawling onto his back moments later, with your thighs pressed flush against his bare skin. the light streaming from the open balcony window shines directly onto sae, and you pause—taking a moment to admire the sight in front of you.

the sunlight makes him appear like he's glowing—pink tufts curl and wrap around his head like a halo, and the particles in the air look like shimmering glitter in sae itoshi's presence.

sae had that effect on things around him. your eyes move down to his back—your favorite part—and you're trying so hard not to sigh at the mere sight. his muscles flex with impatience when he doesn't feel your sweet kisses worshipping his body like they did every morning, and he squints an eye open to glare at you from where he laid.

"y/n," he mumbles, moving a hand backwards to tap your thigh impatiently as you shush him

"shh...let me grab my phone. my 'sae itoshi's wet hair out of the shower' wallpaper is about to be replaced by my 'sae itoshi's back in the morning' wallpaper," you laugh quietly, leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table as you snap a quick picture—tossing it onto the edge of the bed once you get a good angle.

sae is the perfect muse—he stayed still for you while you took your picture. whether it was out of laziness or the fact that he just didn't care, you were grateful either way. he rolls his shoulders, and you watch his muscles ripple like waves as he lets out a quiet come on now.

and so your sweet assault begins. sae's entire body relaxes, and he feels like butter melting under you as your lips and tongue paint their devotion in the most passionate manner he'd ever have the pleasure of knowing. no one does it like you do—loves him, that is. those words are muffled by the pillow he's smushed his face into as he speaks them, and sae wonders how he ever woke up peacefully before you came into his life.

your lips transverse sae's back longingly—and you're peppering kisses onto his milky white skin, creating your very own constellation of stars. and sae thinks nothing, absolutely nothing in the world could bring him out of this moment of pure serenity with you.

well, that is until you bite him.

"fucking—ow!"

"oops! sorry baby!"

blue lock masterlist! :P

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glorioustidalwavedefendor · 2 days ago

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I think it ALL of that plus the middle class is shrinking

And not becasue they are becoming upperclass

But becasue they become workingclass

SO peopel who grew up in the safety of white middleclass

-> I mean class here simply as how much money is available, these days you can have a white coller job like teacher and still be workingclass as far as money is concerened

Where police is your friend

are now workingclass adults

Where police is not your friend at all

So it kind a starts to dawn on more people who used to live in teh ignorance of, "if police treats you bad that is on you for not complying" ...

Not becasue POC have never spoken up

But becasue they have never spoken up to the peopel whos bubbled is now getting popped

Becasue they (or their parenst) didn't have poor friends

And now they are poor themslefes AND have friends in teh same economic braked ...

Think, that man who worked under his female coworkers name for a while and suddenly realised that she wasn't inexperience, incompetent or rude

She just was a women in teh workplace and that's why costumers treated her liek that ...

Some people DO need to walk a mile in someone elses shoes before it dawns on them ...

Early Simpsons episodes said FUCK blue lives

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artisiumstudios · 2 days ago

Text

Au where Stan finds the duffle bag.

HEAR ME OUT-

Basically it’s like a week or two before the science fair, Stan is minding his business (sort of) and while he’s going through a closet/cabinet trying to find some supplies, either for the Stan’o’War or his car, he finds a duffle bag. Curious he rummages through the bag, inside are some toiletries, 20 bucks, and clothing- wait a second. Those are his; his shirt, his pants, his socks— all stuff he has been missing for a couple of weeks. He’s confused, scared, and worried.

Why would his stuff be in here? Why are there toiletries? Why is there money? And who put them there? Unfortunately he already has his answer. Pa was always clear that none of his children would continue leech off of him. If you had nothing to prove then you had nothing to take. The conversation behind the principal’a door swarmed through his mind. How long had pa had his bag packed? Was this always the plan? Was Stanley really that worthless?

But that didn’t matter because Ford wouldn’t choose a school over him! They were going to sail the world together and that would be that, to hell with Pa if he wanted Stan gone then fine he didn’t need him, he didn’t need anyone but his brother and the sea!

At first Stan wants to tell Ford about what he found, but decides not to because in the end it won’t be important. So he keeps quiet and decides to take the bag into his car, after all hey 20 bucks and he gets his stuff back! He can’t leave it in his room cause if Pa finds out he was snooping through his stuff, well he’d rather not think about that.

Then the conversation on the swing set happens, and Stan’s head starts spinning. So it wasn’t just Pa who wanted Stan out, Ford was willing to ditch him too. Stan feels betrayed and hurt, he doesn’t know what to say or what to do. He starts to question his theory, did ford help pack his bag? Was that why he had been so distant lately, feeling guilty for letting his Pa kick him out and even helping him with the bag?

Did ma know? Eventually Ford leaves, huffing from Stan’s lack of enthusiasm and response, mumbling about being jealous that he has a better future up ahead, not just some silly childish dream. Stan snaps, not physically, not with his words: just emotionally.

Fine if they don’t want him there then he’ll just leave. That night while everyone is asleep he grabs all of his money, more clothing, a sketch book, his comics— a picture of him and ford on the stan’o’war— and some other things he thinks might be valuable or just handy. And he drives away.

Nobody notices Stanley’s disappearance the next day, not until night has fallen. Ford cheerfully excited with his new full ride scholarship, goes and tells his parents. Caryn is happy, tears of joy falling down her face as she hugs her intelligent baby boy, his father gives a small smile and a nod— he gives his approval. But the mood changes once he questions where Stanley is. No one has seen him in hours, actually his car has been gone since early morning. They wait awake all night, hoping for some sign, some clue!

Filbrick grunts as he walks up to the closet, his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, his lips pressed in a tight line. He sighs deeply.

Eventually a report is filed, but there is not much they can do, if Stanley ran away then he isn’t missing, and the police refuse to do anything about that.

Anyways thats like yk the beginning of how this whole thing happens but here are some other thoughts and ideas:

Stan:

Without Filbrick telling him he’s not allowed back into the family without a million dollars, Stan isn’t as driven by money as in canon. He doesn’t have a need for large amounts of money therefore he doesn’t have a need to do sketchy jobs just to satisfy his need to have his family back. In other words he doesn’t have as much trauma as in canon and is actually more able to settle down without being on the run or in survival mode. The first couple of months he just spends driving as far away from the East as possible making his way over to New Mexico where he settles down, first as a bar tender then eventually as a mechanic, he lives comfortably in a crummy apartment but hey he doesn’t really need much

Unfortunately he does get bored, even if it’s not with his brother he does crave adventure. And while fixing a this guys truck he overhears of a town called Gravity Falls, where weird creatures tend to reside in. So you guessed it, he picks up and drives from New Mexico over to Gravity Falls Oregon.

He gets a small but nicer apartment this time around and first he works as a mechanic. Immediately he starts to get a sense of the place and its weirdness and he loves it! (Ford would love it here-) .

Since the blind eye isn’t a thing people have two reactions to the weirdness of gravity falls: freak tf out or shrug and go on with their day. Stanley being Stanley gets the great idea to act sort of like a monster hunter/ putting small attractions up with the less violent creatures, not the mystery shack, but more like the mystery circus!

Eventually Stanley gets the name Monster-Lee for his ability to be able to fight off creatures so easily (mostly through bribery or fists)

Ford:

He still leaves for West Tech, but now he's fallen into extreme stress/anxiety and a bit of depression. Why did his brother leave? Why didn't he say anything? Is he okay? Why did he ever let their father get between them, he should've spent more time with him when he had the chance-

Unlike canon, Ford has no resentment/grudges to hold over Stanley, rather he holds that anger towards Filbrick especially when he found out that he had planned to kick Stanley out-- for being the reason Stanley left.

While Ford does still want to study anomalies, he also takes engineering classes, he wants to develop better technology and hopefully resources for run away teens/homeless teens.

While he doesn't meet Fiddleford as his roommate, he does meet him at a robotics convention where they instantly become friends. After college they develop a small company based around the idea of being able to find people, now expanding into different areas.

Ford is a lot more open with the fact the not only is he a twin, but he likes to talk about his younger twin brother who supported him and always stood up for him.

Part of the development with the technology involved finding people in forest dense areas, especially with a lot of caves (please tell me someones seen that one chart) Which then leads them to gravity falls as their first test area, small enough to test their tech, but still forest dense to get sufficient results.

and then these three bozos find each other lol. anyways thats all i got , i thought of this in the shower like 30 minutes ago and decided to procrastinate on my HW writing this lol. anyways

#gravity falls #stanley pines #gravity falls au #stanford pines #stanley pines angst #fiddleford mcgucket #this is probably the happiest au ive come up with #which says something #okay i seriously need to do my homework lol #oh also idk if bill should make an appearance or not #like i want him to but like idk how #also im calling this au the disappearance au #disappearance au #lol

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butchizuku · 3 days ago

Text

Limerence ᥫ᭡; Midoriya Izuku + Bakugō Katsuki

ᨳ Synop. Getting hit by some hentai-esque wasn't on your thursday afternoon agenda but fate had a cruel, yet funny way of working. Finding yourself the damsel to two heroes, you struggle between giving into want and remaining level headed.

໋𓈒 Details. 18+ minors dni, gn afab, they/them pronouns used to refer to reader,extremely dubious consent, sex pollen quirk,threesomes, love confessions, oral (reader/katsuki receiving), fingering, anal (izuku), unprotected sex, creampies, no lube, no prep, unrealistic sex implied past relationship between izuku and katsuki, post manga timeskip, izuku is a teacher, katsui is a pro-hero, mild manga spoilers run time; 7.2k ৎ

(՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞) Director's Note. This spiralled into something even I couldn't fathom but please, enjoy <3

Every Thursday, Izuku walks you to the train station. The two of you work late most days but on Thursday you find yourself staying until the custodians shooed you out of the building with a mildly annoyed look. It was his first year teaching and your first year teaching at a hero school. U.A, was unprecedented in its unconventionality and unique approach, it left you and Izuku constantly crushed beneath a mountain of half graded homework and lesson plans neither of you had time for.

It surprised you more than it probably should have, that Izuku was struggling. He was an alumni, he knew exactly how the system operated at a far deeper level than you did, but he was drowning. He wore a smile on his face nonetheless, he may have been drowning but he was doing it happily. You weren't sure if it was for his students sake or for his own, you’d assume it was the latter. Everyone needs something to keep themselves tethered and sewed together. You didn’t judge. There was something to knowing that a great hero like Izuku needed something to keep himself a float.

That’s why you stayed late every day after work to lend him a helping hand. The first years could use all the extra help they could get and so could he. Their English grades had been abysmal, apparently the worst Principal Nezu had seen in years. As their homeroom teacher, it was Izuku’s job to get to the bottom of things. That leads him to you, again and again. In search of an answer, you weren’t sure but you didn’t mind shouldering the burden. You learned in the first few years of your career, much of teaching meant relying on those around you for support. You leant on your mentor teacher and shared resources with the other newbies who filled the staff room early in the mornings. Izuku didn’t like to lean, he’d shoulder it all alone if he could help it. That’s how hero training shaped him, you think, you couldn’t be too sure.

“I appreciate the company,” you say, finally cutting the silence that sat in the air between you, “But, I don’t want to inconvenience you since you live on campus.”

The slowly setting sun rays prick at your irises forcing you to squint as you peered at Izuku over your shoulder. His neatly styled suit that he wore to work everyday was half crumpled, missing his blazer and bright red tie. They were slung over the back of his chair in his office, never lasting more than half the work day.

Izuku’s lips quirk up slightly, the glint in his eyes is the same one he uses to teases his childhood friends who stop by U.A, “Haven’t I told enough you that you’re never an inconvenience to me,” he grins, slinging his arm around your shoulders. He’s a few inches shorter than you, even shorter when you wear your platform oxfords, he has to stretch himself to reach your height, “Besides, it isn’t safe for you to walk home this late in the day.”

You roll your eyes, your face warm. It was one stop to the studio apartment you were renting in the heart of Musutafu. You were certain if he didn’t have to check up on the students in their dorms he’d likely walk all the way home with you. But, as a homeroom teacher, it was his job to ensure class 1.A didn’t burn down the dormitories before the tenth anniversary of them being added to the campus.

“Still, you have enough work on your plate, I don’t want to add to it.”

Stuttering out the last few words made the very tips of your pointed ears burn. Under the warm, golden glow that bathed the city sky, you hoped your blush wasn’t too apparent to the naked eye. Something akin to butterflies fluttered in and out of your ribcage, tickling your chest until you were squirming for reprieve. Though he was now quirkless, Izuku was still as strong as he was during the war. He easily kept you pinned against his side as the two of you strolled down the sidewalk.

“Walks are good for the body and soul!” He chirps, chuckling at your petulant frown, “If anything, I should be thanking you for letting me accompany you.”

Squinting at him, you heave a sigh, “So if I said no, you wouldn’t walk me to the station?”

Izuku paused for a moment as though he were thinking before a sheepish expression bled onto features. Colour filled his round, freckled cheeks as he chuckled.

“Well, no!”

The exasperated breath of air that passed your lips was melodramatic and half dramatized as if to cover your tracks. But, you liked this cat and mouse game that you and he played each time he walked you home. You liked him.

You weren’t supposed to like him, not in the way you currently did but your heart was weak to his kind eyes and the soft way he regarded you and his students.

“See! So, why would I even bother,” you murmur, turning your face away to hide the growing smile that played at your lips, “I know you, Izuku and I know how persistent you are!”

“I’m just trying to do my civic duty and keep you safe.”

You aren’t a hero, the words almost rolled off your tongue. As if the crushing reminder of all that was lost to him was some playful foible for you to tease out when the mood was right.

“I can keep myself safe just as well,” you say instead, “And, I carry that taser I confiscated from one of Gang Orca’s students at lunch.”

Izuku stares at you, long and hard. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if your lack of quirk or desire to be a hero worries him. Most had pipe dreams of the glory that came with the title hero. There were fewer people who didn’t care for heroics than those who were quirkless.

“Really?”

His eyebrows dart into his hairline as he openly gapes at you, shock marring his features.

“You know those are illegal, right?” He asks, his tone climbing higher and higher, “Isn’t that why you confiscated it in the first place?”

Letting out a nervous chuckle you blanched, “It is?” You question, biting the corner of your lip, “I confiscated it because it’s dangerous for kids to be in possession of, even when they’re super powered heroes in training.”

“Yes!”

The two of you pause in front of the subway station, silence washing over you for a moment.

“Why don’t I stop by your place and pick it up,” Izuku offers, his calloused fingertips brushing your elbow, “I can take it off your hands and get rid of it, no one has to know that you kept it.”

His hands are scarred, much more than yours could ever be. It’s a sobering reminder of the life he used to have, the life he could one day have. The two of you were so different, sometimes it was easy to forget that. You and he wanted different things, and your commonalities could one day disappear. The thought made your stomach churn in discomfort.

You liked his presence and his friendship. But, you knew if he still had his quirk he wouldn’t be teaching. It was a hard pill to swallow.

“Yeah, alright,” you mutter, forcing a smile to your lips, “If you’re coming all this way then at least let me treat you to dinner.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Izuku turns a deep shade of red, “No, it’s alright, I want to help you out!”

Before you’re able to protest, the air is stolen from your lungs as a stranger's body barrels into yours and you’re knocked to the ground. Your palms are skinned from the pavement, blood blotting along the surface as you groan in pain. A strange scent fills the air, it's nauseatingly sweet and forces a choked gasp from your lungs.

“Are you alright?” Izuku coughs, crouching down to help you off the ground, “Did you hit your head?”

You shake your head, lips tightly pursed as your face scrunches up. Warmth melts through your body, every hair standing on end as a shiver trickles down your spine. Try as you might, no words can pass through your lips. They get stuck somewhere in the back of your throat, leaving only the slightest of whimpers to slip through. Your cheeks burn even hotter with embarrassment as Izuku helps you to your feet, but you can hardly stand. Your knees threaten to buckle and your thighs shake.

“Let me… Let me call someone,” Izuku stutters, his body flush against yours.

You can feel his heart racing and the muscles in his arms trembling as he holds you. He was so strong. His muscles practically bulge out of his crisp white button up shirt.

“I feel fine,” you murmur, blinking nervously, “Just let me go home, Izuku.”

Your ribs rattle out a wheeze as you press your fingers into the meat of his well toned shoulders. Izuku smells good, really good. The hint of cologne that's melted into his skin and mingled with his sweat and musk lights your body aflame with desire. The urge to reach out and lick the throbbing vein on the side of his neck, getting a closer taste of him and his sweat crosses your mind. It’s frightening how commonplace it feels within your discombobulated thoughts, as if it were meant to be there.

“You’re burning up.”

Whatever else Izuku might have said falls on deaf ears as your brain zeroes in on the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Your lashes flutter and your nails dig into his flesh as you will yourself to calm down. But, he’s hot, dangerously so. Izuku worsens the heat that laps at your belly and your cheeks. You feel as though you cannot breathe, each breath heavy and ragged as he speaks to some far away person over the phone.

“Izuku,” you whine, whatever was to come next spills off of your tongue in a needy little whimper as he presses the palm of his hand to your forehead.

Smoothing his rough hand over the curve of your cheek, he shushes you like a mother does a child, “Shh, you’re alright,” he coos, offering you a soothing caress, “Just remember to breathe, okay?”

Your eyes grow lidded as you lean into his touch. Each soft coo sends your mind deeper and deeper into the hole it's fallen in. The feel of him against you is almost too much for your quickly fading willpower. If not for the tiny, logical voice in the back of your skull screaming to remind you that the two of you were in public, you might’ve reached out to take a bite.

“Okay.”

You can’t remember what you were agreeing to, but the sigh of relief Izuku heaved made the pleasure centre of your brain light up in delight. It’s that measly, weak willed part of your brain that keeps you preoccupied with fantasies as heroes move all around you. Some of their voices are familiar, you think they must have stopped by to speak with your students but they’re not speaking to you. Everything is directed to Izuku who speaks in a harried manner, the worry evident in his tone. It doesn’t match the way he paws at your body or that thing poking at your thighs.

But, it’s his touch that grounds you and keeps you from losing it completely as the two of you are shoved in the back of an ambulance. The blaring sirens do little to keep this situation discreet, like you heard one of the heroes had requested. They’re sitting in the bay with you, their body a sea of orange, black, and green. Their rough, scraggly voice barks out frustrations to Izuku, to the paramedic, to the distant voice who rambles over speakerphone.

You squint at them and their jagged, pointy attire in vague recognition. They must have visited U.A. at some point, heroes were always brought in for some lesson or another.

“Kacchan, I’m fine!” Izuku’s voice squeals, you crane your neck just in time to catch him slapping the hero's hand away, “Their quirk didn’t hit me.”

“You know that's not how emitter quirks work, Deku,” ‘Kacchan’ gruffly barks out, “You’re getting looked at when we get to the hospital, end of discussion.”

“But-”

“End of discussion.”

Izuku wears a sheepish expression, his wide green eyes darting between you and the hero, “I was going to say, they’re quirkless and a civilian,” he says, “I’m worried.”

‘Kacchan’ barks out a laugh, “So are you, Deku.”

“It’s different.”

“Right you’re a special little boy, I forgot,” he sarcastically mutters, “Who somehow is immune to others' quirks, I almost forgot.”

You don’t have to look at Izuku to know he’s rolling his eyes, you could tell by the tone of his voice and the small huff that passes his lips. When his students asked for extensions an hour before the assignment was due, he’d roll his eyes and huff, but he always said yes.

“Yup, that's totally what I meant,” Izuku snips with a frown.

Your languid gaze settles onto his pink, freckled cheeks. His eyes are pointedly fixed to his shoes, shirking away from ‘Kacchan’s’ intense stare. The oxygen mask pinches uncomfortably at the bridge of your nose but your arm is strapped to the gurney, keeping you firmly in place. Izuku spares a quick flit of his eyes over your body before he returns to his avoidance. ‘Kacchan’ leers almost menacingly.

“Stop bein’ such a damn brat,” he barks, gripping Izuku by the chin, “Your face is all red and you’re sweating, this isn’t normal.”

Izuku’s cheeks are a ruddy red and puffed into a pout. His freckles spill out from between the other man's rough, calloused hands. A beat of silence passes between the two of them. It’s suffocating, the tensed air that fills the cramped ambulance bay. You should look away from them but they’re so wrapped up in this silent exchange that they wouldn’t even notice your intrusion. They weren’t noticing your long, tiresome stare or your wide eyes that flit between them.

“Fine.”

Izuku concedes surprisingly quickly.

He squirms in his seat, he must be embarrassed to be bossed around like that. You miss the quiver of his upper lip and the nervous sweat that breaks out on his brow. A low whisper is hissed between the two men, your hazed mind can’t even begin to make out what might’ve been said but it stirs a whimper like sound from your colleague. Wrenching the heroes hand from his face, Izuku sulks with a flush melting down his neck. The other man wears a smug, satisfied smirk— one where the corners of his lips curl upwards

The ambulance halts to a stop, hardly jostling them but it sends your head spinning. You have to squish your eyes shut to keep the ringing in your ears at bay. Somewhere between being pulled into the emergency room and being rushed into a private room, your consciousness fades. When it returns to you, you’re not in the sterile hospital room you imagined you’d be in.

You’re splayed across a plush couch, there’s a chunky knit throw wrapped around your legs and tucked up beneath your chin. The air is musky, filled with something warm and welcoming. It worsens the burn that itches your skin.

“Where am-”

“You’re awake, good,” a familiar voice chirps.

Izuku’s freckled face fills your vision, he wears a strained smile. His cheeks are ruddy and his skin is glistening with sweat. Perching himself on the arm of the sofa, he reaches forward to rest his hand on your ankle. His hand is scarred with rough skin that trailed up to his elbow, a memory of a past lifetime sealed within the confines of his youth. The feel of his skin against yours makes you jolt, skittering away from the explosion of heat that travels up your calf and snakes its way up your thigh.

“Izuku,” you pant, blinking at him as if he were some mirage that might soon disappear, “What happened? Where are we? Why aren’t we at the hospital, I remember being in an ambulance.”

Slinking into the plush cushion beside you, Izuku raises a hand, “Woah, slow down, I can explain.”

“The two of you got hit with a sex pollen quirk,” a gruff voice chimes in, heavy footfalls accompanying them, “End of story.”

“What?”

The hero from before materializes behind Izuku, no longer clad in his hero suit but instead a pair of soft grey sweatpants and a thin black muscle tank top. It’s a stark contrast to the messy suit that hangs off Izuku’s frame and the rumpled sundress you excitedly picked out to wear this morning. The spiked blonde hair and sharp, ruby eyes lined in smudged black were familiar but you couldn’t quite place where you knew him from.

“Kacchan do you always have to be so crass?” Izuku shrieks, “This is why you’re number fifteen because you refuse to use any of the media training we did in school!”

“Is that why I feel so … Funny?”

Your face burns with shame and embarrassment. While ‘Kacchan’ was reticent, the picture of nonchalance as he leaned against the sofa, his chest flush to Izuku’s spine.

“But, why are we here? Why aren’t we at the hospital?”

“There’s nothing they could do to reverse the effect of the quirks,” Izuku murmurs, gently caressing your ankle, “Kacchan offered a private place for us to wait it out.”

“I figured if you were going to fuck to get it out of your system, here was better than your lodgings at U.A.”

A shiver trickles down your spine, forcing you to curl into the corner of the sofa as confusion muddied your mind. ‘Kacchan’ snorted a laugh as you stared off in a mix of horror and confusion, “A sex pollen quirk?” You echoed, speaking to no one but yourself, “I thought those were just a trope in those bodice rippers to sell to lonely moms.”

“Apparently not,” Izuku winced, lightly elbowing his friend, “So now we’re here.”

“We’re here.”

You look around the room like a trapped animal in need of an escape.

“Sorry but, what is your name?” You question, your lips dipping into a frown, “If I’m going to be staying in your home until the quirk wears off, I should know your name.”

“If it wears off,” he mutters, eliciting another elbow to the gut and a shrill call of his name, “Whatever, the name’s Bakugō Katsuki or as you may know me, Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight.”

You nod to show you’ve retained what he just said but the ripple of his muscles as he leaned over to shake your hand distracted you. Izuku bounces anxiously between you, chewing on his lip until the skin cracks and ichor tinges his tongue. The urge to lap it up swirls in your belly and you find yourself reaching forward and grasping at his slacks.

“Get it out of our systems,” you whisper, your mind stuck on Bakugō’s earlier words.

That damned smug smirk creeps onto his face once more, almost as if he was pleased by the situation before him. You had heard in passing of heroes wearing righteousness as a facade and enjoyed certain unsavory situations and chaos just as much as some villains did. You didn't think Izuke would have remained with someone who had such little honour but you could feel the smug satisfaction roll off Bakugō in waves. It was as though he wanted this to happen.

“Mhm,” Izuku all but purred as he leaned closer to you.

Bakugō knotted his fingers into Izuku’s sweat dabbled, unruly curls pushing his head closer to yours until you felt his warm breath fanning across your lips. The hair on the back of your neck stands and your breathing grows laboured. All you could think about since joining the faculty back in April was him, what his tongue may taste like, and if he would moan in your mouth like he did in your dreams. It was wrong of you to want him so bad but your wanton, lust filled mind was begging you to take this chance to have him with no repercussions, and no regrets.

Your rumination came to an end as Bakugō pressed Izuku’s mouth to yours. A puppeteer relishing in his work, he snorts as you eagerly lap at Izuku’s mouth, pawing at his torso with wanton lust. His fingers are quick to tangle in your hair and grip the back of your neck. The feel of his rough, scarred skin against your tender, flush neck makes your body burst out into goosebumps which drives you closer to him in search of warmth in spite of the burning balm that’s settled over you.

Lucidity melts your mind further. The longer you’re awake, shaking off the fog and allowing the adrenaline to settle in, the more your desire grows. It’s spiralled out of control and your body acts without your mind's permission.

“Izuku,” you whimper into his lips, wrinkling his dress shirt between your fists, “Please… Give me more.”

Bakugō roughly pats your head, tussling your hair around as if he were trying to give you a noogie, “Don’t you worry, Deku here is a good boy, he’ll give you what you need.”

Izuku moans into your mouth, his body reacting to his friend's words. His hands tremble as they curl into the nape of your neck. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, lapping at his molars and gums to memorize every inch of his kiss and the way he tastes, if gum or some other thing might cling to his teeth.

“Oh that’s it, atta boy,” Bakugō barks, his rough fingers tug at the roots of your hair as if to guide your tongue further into Izuku’s mouth.

Your eyes flit open on their own accord, perhaps to peer into Bakugō’s. They’re a dark shade of red, his pupils large and imposing as they peer, fixated on the sloppy slip and slide of your tongue against Izuku’s. They press close soon after they meet Bakugō’s for but a moment, forced by the nervous thrum of your heart that rises when he notices your staring.

Izuku notices the stall in your movements and the sloppy slip of your tongue, “Hey,” he coos against your lips, “Are you okay?”

You nod a bit, not minding the way your head knocks into his. You’re all but about to crawl out of your skin. Discomfort and discontent with being watched like a bug pinned beneath a microscope, sharp and calculating eyes dissecting your every move as if they determine your worthiness for his best friend. Oh, but the haze that clouded your mind and soaked through your panties kept you glued to the soft sofa and Izuku’s warm embrace, searching for something to quell the overwhelming, wanton need that choked your delicate throat.

Izuku tosses a spare glance over his shoulder to Bakugō, calculating and sizing the man up, “Kacchan do you mind?” He murmurs, it's less of a request and more of a statement but you’re unsure what it’s meant to mean.

Their eyes catch for a moment, a million words silently pass between them. They speak a language you can’t understand but the incessant throbbing in your cunt keeps the insecurity from eating away at you.

“He can stay if you want,” you whisper, your voice a stranger to your ears.

“Kacchan’s gonna leave,” Izuku’s voice is clipped as his emerald green eyes slide back to gaze into yours, “Isn’t that right?”

The two pause for a moment, a beat passing between them. The weight of their history is heavy in the air, tension palpable. You attempt to squirm away, to put some space between you and Izuku but his calloused hands keep you pinned firmly between him and the sofa. Your clit throbs with need, no amount of discomfort could cloud the fact that you found his strength immensely attractive.

“I was?”

The heat that emanates from between their exchanges burns you. Lapping at the tops of your thighs and licking your belly. You feel it deep within you, the staunch, growing need that’s driving you half mad. Whatever history laid between them, however complicated and rich, mattered not. How could it, when heady desire so thick laid itself over your feeble body?

“You wanna kiss him?” You murmur to neither man in particular, squishing your thighs together to quell the throb.

“No, angel,” Bakugō says, shoving his face over Izuku’s shoulder, “I want to kiss you, to know what you taste like.”

He leers at you in spite of the nervous glance his friend gives him but you pay it no mind. Your ego triples in its size, as does your fervent lust. You may not have cared enough to pay attention to the current hero ranks or the thriving celebrity culture, but you knew well enough to be flattered. Not just because anyone would want to be vied after by an affluent pro hero, but because Bakugō was stunning in his own right. Somewhere in the back of your mind, exists the pieces of him you’ve come across. Though mystified and shrouded by confusion, somewhere, he existed beyond the stretch of this one meeting.

“I know all about Izuku already.”

“Me?” You dumbly point to yourself, as if there were a fourth person in the room that he might have been conversing with.

He nods his head and the glint in his eyes feels predatory. You wither under his stare, fawning to him like a prey animal.

“Okay.”

The word is whispered and you have a feeling no matter what you said in that moment, it’d end with your mouth on his.

Bakugō’s body all but engulf’s Izuku’s frame. You had thought before that Izuku was large with well cared for muscles and thigh shoulders but his friend made him look small in comparison. With only a few extra inches of height to his name, Bakugō was big and burly, with muscles that tapered off into a surprisingly trim waist.

Izuku pouted as he was pressed in between the two of you, his neck bared as he cocked his head to the side to allow Bakugō some room, “Don’t be like that Deku,” he rasps against the shell of his ear, “You knew how I felt about them.”

The confession hangs heavily in the air but it doesn’t linger long. Bakugō presses a balmy, open mouthed kiss to Izuku’s jugular, the light highlighting the glint of his teeth as the nip at his freckled skin. A moan melts off Izuku’s tongue and that seems to satisfy both men. Bakugō crowds into your space, his nudge nudging yours.

You languidly blink at him, waiting for him to take what he wants. His rough, calloused fingers grasp the tip of your chin, his warm breath fanning across your lips. You find yourself leaning in, your lips brushing his, a small coquettish whimper sticking to the back of your throat.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to know what you taste like,” his voice is surprisingly soft, it makes your heart skip a beat.

Bakugō takes his time with kissing you, as if he knows the moment this quirk wears off the only pieces of you he’d get to have are short glimpses in the halls of U.A. He smells of sweat and ash, tastes like a hot cinnamon heart candy. That must have been the flavour of gum he was chewing on in the ambulance. His tongue laps at your gums and flick over your molars as if searching for all the hidden pieces of yourself. If intimacy lay in the knowledge of one's body, Bakugō was skipping all the pretext that comes before such closeness. He kissed you like the two of you had been simmering on low for years, a shared heat enveloping you. Maybe those months felt like years for him as you only had eyes for Izuku.

You’re unsure who you touch as your hands explore the expanse of clothed shoulders and biceps. The tickle of hair brushes your skin but the dizzying warmth shrouds your ability to discern the who and the wear. Both men were all over you, all at once. Izuku, nuzzling himself into you, sweet kisses pressed to your collarbones and sternum. He stroked the side of your abdomen, sneaking his fingers beneath your dress shirt. This morning, you had woken up extra early to iron your shirt in the hopes of looking nice. The fabric was now crumpled and soaked with sweat, the cuffs dabbled with blood from when you fell.

Bakugō’s lips are red and kiss bitten when he pulls away, swiping his thumb along the length of his bottom lip, he grins at you, satisfied with himself.

With a whine, you roll your hips against Izuku, searching for stimulation.

“What’s wrong?” He coos, his brow furrowed as he cups his cheek.

A haggard breath leaves your chest, “I’m so hot,” you all but squeal, “And needy it, I need you Izuku please.”

“You heard them, they need you, Deku.”

Izuku freeze’s for a moment, his face flush and hot. If he had some sort of emitter quirk you’re sure he’d be spitting flames from his cheeks, “Need me where, sweetheart?”

Cupping his hand with your own, you guide it between your legs. The thick tweed fabric of your slacks is uncomfortably wet with your arousal. The press of his hand to your cunt feels near euphoric, you can’t help the wanton moan you release. Izuku needs no further instruction as he flicks open the top button of your pants and begins to peel them down your hips. Your underwear is pulled down your thighs and bunched up, tossed somewhere in the living room with your socks and shoes.

Izuku moans when your spread your legs to give him space, his bottom lip squished between his teeth, “Fuck, your so…” He trails off, blinking a bit.

“Your cunt is perfect,” Bakugō finishes for him, sprawling across Izuku’s shoulders.

Bakugō roughly gropes Izuku’s erection through his dress pants, his free hand threads itself in his unruly green hair and pushes his head towards your throbbing cunt. Your eyes roll into your skull when the tip of his nose brushes against your aching clit. Your fingers tangle with Bakugō’s as you grip the roots of Izuku’s hair.

“Please,” you beg, twitching your hips upwards, “Lick my pussy, please Izu’.”

Izuku makes for an obedient puppy. In another life, one without such ambition, he might’ve made a good soldier with how well he took orders from you. His tongue lolled out to kitten lick your cunt, his green eyes peering up at you in concern. They shut quickly as he loses himself in your taste, groaning into you as he slurps up every last drop of your thick, sticky arousal that gushes from your cunt.

Bakugō wastes no time in unbuckling Izuku’s belt, pushing his pants and briefs down his thigh. Your mouth grows dry at the sight of his cock, heavy, hairy, and twitching with need. Precum drips from the ruddy tip onto the fuzzy carpet but neither man pays no mind. His wrist snaps as he gives Izuku’s cock a languid stroke. The groans of pleasure are swallowed up by your pussy, the vibrations from his vocal chords making your head spin. The muscles in your tummy are pulled taunt as they’re wound up. The tension that settles in your shoulders threatens to tear you apart.

Your orgasm washes over you with a startling quickness but it isn’t enough. Your nails dig into Izuku’s scalp as you keep his mouth pressed to your cunt even if he’s choking on your squirt. It drips down the leather cushions of the sofa and it squeaks obnoxiously as your skin slides against it. Bakugō pulls Izuku closer to him by the hips, bringing you with him. His sweatpants are bunched around his hips, pulled down just enough for dick to sit over the waist band. Unlike Izuku’s thick, curly bush and freckled pelvis, Bakugō’s pale blond pubes blend in with his skin but you can tell that he’s kept it trim. Trickling from beneath his belly button, his sparse happy trail guides your eyes to his cock. It’s thin and long with a bruised bulbous tip that leaks when he gives it a firm squeeze at the base.

With lidded eyes, you watch with intrigue when Bakugō spits on Izuku’s ass, rubbing it around his asshole with his thumb.

“Katsuki…” Izuku murmurs from between your thighs, “Are you gonna…?”

Bakugō silences him by pushing his mouth back into your cunt and like the obedient little runt he is, he latches his lips to your clit. Pressing the tip of his dick to Izuku’s eager hole, Bakugō stifles a grunt behind a wicked grin. It’s difficult to focus on one thing and how can you, when Izuku’s thick fingers prod at your weeping hole and he’s moaning like a whore with tears in his eyes as Bakugō splits him in half with not a moment of reprieve. It's sloppy, the way Izuku fingers your cunt, slick and squirt squelching loudly like an erotic symphony.

“Come on now, don’t slow down now” Bakugō chides, the hem of his muscle tank inching up his stomach as he snaps his hips into Izuku, “Be good now and put your mouth to use.”

Somewhere in the alphabet soup of your pleasure addled mind, you manage to string together a sentence, “You’re so mean to him,” you whine, writhing in Izuku’s hold, “Izu is so nice an’ he smells like sage.”

“He likes it,” he chuckles, leaning over Izuku’s back to peck your lips, “Would you rather I be mean to you?”

You try to shake your head but another orgasm hits you and you’re forced to gulp down a few breaths before you can attempt to speak. The two men call your name in synchronized echoes like hymns of worship bouncing off stone temple walls.

“No, just play nice with us.”

Izuku’s nails bite into the fat of your hips as he uses you for stability, his head bobbing like he’s brainless, “Shh, it’s okay sweetheart,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on your hip, “Kacchan is all bark.”

His chin is shiny with your spend, it’s dripped down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. Your body prickles with shame but it’s nothing in comparison to the snarly beast of want that claws at your chest, begging for more than just fingers and tongue.

“I wish he’d bite me instead.”

The two laugh, there’s a knowing look again, that look in the eye that makes your eyes flit away from the intensity, “I do if asked nicely.”

Blood prickles at the surface of your skin when Bakugō picks up the pace, roughly slamming his cock into Izuku’s poor battered hole. You’re almost mesmerized how his cock flops uselessly against his tummy with each deep thrust. His nails leave raised streaks in your skin that stirs something exciting in your chest. Your name is said like a prayer as Izuku cums, his cock twitching as his cum pools atop the carpet.

Somehow, Izuku’s cock becomes even stiffer, standing to attention in search of the warmth of human touch. Bakugō kisses the nape of his neck, whispering something to Izuku as he buries his cock into his ass.

“Sweetheart, can I…. I want to… no,” Izuku starts and stops himself like he’s talking to his boss. Beating around the push, unsure of how to make his request palatable, “Can I please fuck you?”

The soft, nervous lilt of his voice makes your cunt throb, you nod before you can choke out a “Yes,” breathed and painted with excitement, “Yes please, please I need you inside of me.”

Untangling himself from Bakugō’s reach, Izuku pushes you deep into the plush of the sofa. He wears a timid smile that threatens on wild. The apples of his cheeks are flush, you can’t help but reach up to pinch them, your thumb smoothing along his scar dappled skin. Pushing some of your sweat damp hair away from your forehead, Izuku settles between your thighs.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart,” he whispers to you like he’s confessing a secret, giddy and drunk off the feeling, “How are you so pretty, so perfect?”

His question goes unanswered because he presses the slick tip of his cock to your cunt, sliding it between your sticky folds, “Hurry up!” You bark, simpering when you realize the tone of your voice is scarily demanding and petulant, “I can’t wait any longer, please.”

Caressing the side of your face, Izuku coos at you a soft apology with a kiss to placate your nerves. He’s far slower than Bakugō, who paid no mind to taking his time in stretching Izuku out. The fat head of his cock presses inside your pulsing hole and sits there for a moment as your chest heaves from the mind numbing stretch. Bakugō saunters around the other side of the sofa standing where your head hangs off the arm. His dick stares directly at you, a taunting treat that is just begging for you to take a bite.

Your jaw falls slack and your tongue follows suit. Izuku takes it as an invitation to kiss you, clumsily like it was his first. He’s eager and all over you, the snap of his hips jaggad and haggard.

“So pretty,” he whispers into your waiting lips, “I can’t believe I get to fuck you, I like you so much.”

You think you hear Bakugō chuckle. If he does, it's hidden but the wet squelch of his cock as he fists it over your faces. Either way, you’re too distracted by the operative word Izuku uses, “like”, you wanted it to be love. It’d only been a few months since you met him but you think you might’ve loved him the moment you laid eyes on him. You wanted him to love you too, to want more than just fevered kisses in the midst of an aphrodisiac fueled bacchanal. But that was asking too much, you wanted too much. You were greedy and wrought with selfish desire. And you couldn’t breathe.

Pulling at the buttons of your dress shirt, your pluck at the fabric until it gives way. The tepid air feels heavenly on your sweat slick skin for but a moment before you’re shrouded by the heat of two bodies. Bakugō slots his cock between your two open mouths and you suckle on the long throbbing vein to pacify your bleeding heart. Izuku’s tongue slides against yours, laving over Bakugō’s length as he pumps into you.

Warmth spreads in your abdomen and spills down your thighs. It bites at the edge of your vision, stars and bits of black swimming along until your consciousness fades. Sleep greets you like an old friend. It cradles your head and swaddles you in a cocoon of comfort. Your anxieties and that horrid pit in your stomach fade away with the sweet dreams that visit you.

You’re unsure how long you slumbered for but when you awake, the room was bathed in the golden glow of morning. There’s a grey duvet tucked up to your chin, it smells of laundry detergent and musk. Your bare body is battered, sore to the bone with bruises littering your thighs and hips. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you survey the room. It’s barren and hardly lived in, if it weren’t for the pile of clothes hanging off the wicker basket hamper in the corner of the room.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Izuku’s cheerful voice rings out, he peers around the doorway with a tray of food, “How are you feeling?”

Your throat is dry, the words stick to the sides of your esophagus, “I feel…” You rasp, shaking your head, “Fine, how are you?”

Izuku offers you a smile, “I’m alright,” he offers you the tray, there’s a glass of water and a bottle of Advil, “Here, you should drink up.”

When you make no movement to grab the glass, Izuku plucks two pills from the bottle and brings the water towards your lips. Pressing the medication to your mouth, you swallow it down with his quiet instruction. He coos small praises into your ear, the way he does with his students. Your stomach flips with nerves as flashes of yesterday come rushing back.

Before you can speak the ensuite door flies open, a plume of steam coming with it. Bakugō stands in the doorway in nothing but a pair of loose gym shorts, toweling off his short spiky hair.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Kacchan!”

Silence fills the space uncomfortably.

“Did you tell them yet?” Bakugō says, nodding towards you.

“Tell me what?” Your kiss bitten lips ache but you chew on them anyways.

Izuku shakes his head, “No,” he mutters, “They just woke up.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Bakugō huffs through his nose, his gaze cutting through you as he pins down Izuku with his eyes,“They deserve to know.”

“To know what?” Anxiety bubbles in your belly. The pills that sit at the back of your throat threaten to make a reappearance. Blood coats your tongue as you split the skin of your lips. You think you know what they might say. It was all a mistake, likened to a drunken affair between a married man and a spring flower, decades younger, still in bloom.

“That we both have feelings for you.”

Oh.

And suddenly, those pesky wants of yours didn’t feel so far away. You didn’t feel so hard to love or desire. But, the thought of it stole your breath. It prickled you with anxiety and fears akin to not enough.

All you could say was, “Oh.”

Because whatever you felt for Izuku had no name and if it did, you weren’t sure such a word existed in Japanese nor English. And Bakugō, the guilt crept up for all the things you didn’t feel or couldn’t. Maybe you did feel something, not flattery but something concrete that pushed its way through the thick heat of desire that made you act so foolishly. You thought maybe he was just stroking your ego, that wanton lust to know the taste if another could be just that, lust. No feelings that were any deeper than a kiddy pool.

One of them calls your name, but it all sounds like static.

“And here I thought it was all in my head.”

And maybe it was. Maybe you were still dreaming.

You think that might be it until Izuku surges forward to kiss you long and hard. Your head is filled with the same intoxicating rush. The quirk must not have been as strong as you thought after all.

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