#bakugou and dogs

[puppyeared]

these two are so interesting to me

characters belong to @canisalbus

[tmrajax]

sugar daddies who buy them and their babies matching red bottoms.

laying on his pristine black leather couch scrolling on your phone with your legs hoisted up on his lap, his pretty hands massaging your feet, you make a comment of how cute you think couples who match shoes are, and he goes all out with it. humming a little with a nod of agreement before immediately going to safari and looking up christian louboutin and purchasing the both of you a pair. letting out a small chuckle when you make a follow up comment on how you two should get matching converse. “sure sweetheart.”

seeing the way a cute little smile plasters itself on your face when he says he got the two of you a matching present days later, sitting you down atop the lavish dining room table and telling you to close your eyes as he gets the box, allowing you to open your eyes once he opens the box and grabs the first heel out, kneeling down and grabbing your foot between his long fingers gently placing the shoe on your pretty foot.

kissing up your legs as he puts the second heel on your other foot, commenting about how gorgeous you make them look, and about how cute the two of you are going to be wearing your matching shoes.

GOJO, geto, TOMURA, DABI, bakugou, HAWKS, CHUUYA, FYODOR, pm dazai, mori, tachihara, giyuu

[woahjo]

the first time the high lord katsuki touches you, he drags his fingers lightly over your clothes. his palms slide against your shoulders, your waist, your hips, and your thighs. he's careful to not overstep, moving slowly over your body as if any sudden movement would shatter the illusion.

he'd asked you to come look at something on his desk. a book or some other thing, and you'd obliged because you appreciate the things he shares with you. but you had stood so close to him, so close that katsuki could smell you, that he could lean forward a little and put his face in your hair.

"tell me if you don't like it," he'd mumbled, his voice tense and gravelly. there was a bite to it, a nervous one that he'd struggled to conceal.

then, he'd moved his hands to touch your hips. lightly at first, then with a bit more urgency. you had not turned around to face him, instead content to let him touch you this way. almost like worship.

his hands now roam gingerly over your clothing, catching momentarily on the heavy fabric before letting it fall again. he spends a lot of time simply feeling your shape, greedy hands that tremble with his desire to take you. katsuki touches you because you let him, because you want him to.

katsuki doesn't fuck you today, but he does other things. he lets his hand slip to your inner thigh and you part your legs with a small step to the side. neither of you speaks a word and the room is so silent save for your breathing that you could hear a pin drop. kirishima is outside of the door, but he won't enter unless he's called. the silence and secret of this wraps you both in a film you can't seem to break free from.

slowly, he pulls your dress up to run his fingers along the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps along your skin and causing you to shutter and lean back against him. he sighs a little, leaning forward so that his breath hits the shell of your ear. then, he places a small kiss on your exposed part of your shoulder where it meets your neck.

then, his fingers dip to cup your cunt, pressing lightly until he finds the spot that makes you gasp and lean forward, bracing yourself with both hands on the table. his thick finger rubs circles into your slit, pulling aside your underwear to collect your wetness on his fingers before pressing it again to that sensitive bud.

you sigh, letting your head fall forward and katsuki steps closer to you, close enough that you can feel his hardness against your ass. he groans when he realizes the extent of your wetness, no doubt thinking about how long you've been like this, how long he's let you go unsatisfied and neglected.

katsuki doesn't make an effort to enter you, nor does he move his fingers from your clit. he just rubs circles into it, finding a pattern that makes you tremble and sticking with it. you sigh softly as he touches you, your skirt hiked up over his wrist and legs spread ever so slightly to give him room to pleasure you. choked moans and whines threaten to escape your lips and you can feel katsuki's face and breath beside your head, his eyes fixed on you as he watches your expression twist into one of mounting pleasure.

his hand comes up to brace your hip when you get close, pulling your body against him so that his hard cock is flush against you. it's a possessive movement and the roughest he's ever been with you, harshly jostling your body against his as if to have you close when you reach your peak.

you're leaning forward, fingers digging into the fine wood of his desk, as he repeatedly rubs at your clit, occasionally dipping to your entrance to collect your slick. you'd love for him to put them in you, to curl his thick fingers inside of your body until you cum, but this seems to be all he allows himself to do, as if he's holding himself back from ultimate pleasure.

what he does do for you is certainly enough, though. soon, he's crowding your body, his figure hunched over yours as you twitch and writhe against him. he keeps his fingers firmly rubbing at your clit, soft circles that grow more intentional with each twitch of your hips against him. then, you tense up and sigh deeply, then tension in your body fleeing as you cum hard against his hand and rut your hips into his fingers.

katsuki watches and groans softly as you finish, still moving his fingers and breathing heavily in your ear until you collapse forward against the desk with overstimulation. your legs tremble and squeeze his hand between your thighs and your breath comes heavily and quickly. he breathes like this too, as if he's just exerted some great physical force, and you can still feel his cock twitching against you in his pants as the fingers on his free hand dig harshly into your hips.

katsuki doesn't move his hand until you've stopped your twitching, content to leg you squeeze it between two plush thighs. then, he removes it, briefly holding your skirt up and peering around you to see the supple flesh of your leg, before letting it drop. you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and katsuki lingers behind you for a moment before letting his head fall forward to rest against your shoulder.

neither of you says anything about the reality of what you've just done. it's a great crime. one that is not easily undone should anyone find out about it. the two of you sit in silence as it settles over you.

[puppyaulait]

Flower shop x tattoo shop (and the little emo gang)

[gojoidyll]

Boyfriends who get angry when you don't let them do stuff for you.

They give nastiest of glares and side eyes as you go about your day. Why didn't you let them get the door for you? They were already doing the dishes, they could of washed your dish too. For fuck's sake, let them help you put your coat on!!

They just about pull out their hair at how independent you are. It's so frustrating sometimes.

"Why won't you beat up that guy who was harassing your s/o???"

"Cause...," distant screams in the background, "they can handle themselves..."

Make no mistake, your boyfriend is definitely waiting for the day that you finally rely on him for a change.

Bakugou, Rin Okumura, Aza Chobe, Fushiguro, Kunikida, Chuuya, +your favs

[eggsdrawings]

barking buddies 🐾

[with-my-calamitous-love]

REASONS NOT TO END IT ALL:

1) all the unreleased songs from your favourite artist

2) all the dogs and cats waiting to be loved by you

3) GOTTA OUTLIVE THE HATERS

4) THE HATERS GONNA BE HAPPY IF YOU DIE

5) potatoes. boil them, mash them, fry them up till golden and crispy

6) we got 2 more fnaf movies to go

7) dr. pepper

8) you have so many hugs left to give and get

9) you might eat your favourite meal tomorrow

10) keep telling yourself “not today.” one day you won’t have to.

please, REBLOG + ADD MORE REASONS!

[habken]

losers !

[shiftythrifting]

1. Someone's abandoned anime husband (no idea who he is)

2. Someone donated two copies each of Blade 2 and 3, would've grabbed em if Blade 1 was there

3. Dog island for the PS2 that I ended up bringing home

[cvnt4him]

I am Alaa from Palestine, Gaza, and I need help to get out of the war. We have a war of death and hunger for the sake of my children. I to me with any amount of money or me publish the accountIt is not easy for me to ask for help, but I lost everything. Do not hesitate to help me. $15 or $10. A little helpsplease donate and help this family!!!

🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🍉🇵🇸🇵🇸‎‏,I hope you and your family are well.Can you help me Share Or Replog the post my Family on account? 🙏

https://gofund.me/fc02c7cd

Unfortunately I myself cannot donate, however everyone else who can I urge you and push you to please do so.

Please interact with this and their account/other accounts to help push this out there and gain others attention.

Their go fund me!

Don't forget to do your daily clicks!!

Yes I'm tag mashing or wtv

[ibarkatpeoplewoofwoofbitch]

Some fandoms and otome game creators "forgetting" y/n isn't just fem aligned and y/n is everyone, and y/n isn't some straight brown haired white woman and other people exist:

-------------------------------------------------------

And still, some writers on here tag it as #male reader. And make the character have female pronouns,wear a dress, talk about them having big boobs. Like theirs already not a lot of masculine aligned y/ns in stories so stop using #gender neutral reader or #male reader if you're so fucking clearly making it a women 💀🙏.

[tmrajax]

men that would bend you over a counter and fuck you from behind while holding your underwear in their mouth, panting with muffled mumbles about how naughty you’ve been, leaving their lips. littering bruises on your pretty skin in the shape of their fingertips, purposely marking your skin in places it can be seen.

gojo, geto, inumaki, TOMURA, bakugou, dabi, hawks, SANEMI, tengen, chuuya, DAZAI, NIKOLAI, TACHIHARA

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou likes to remind you to breathe whenever you two have sex. It can get so overwhelming for you—the pleasure, the intensity, the intimacy, the eye contact that he never lets you lose. It’s a connected feeling, when you’re at the height of it all, the precipice of climaxing.

“Hey, hey, eyes on me, baby,” he’ll whisper to you, tapping your cheeks once, twice, gently to gain your attention. Your eyes flutter open, rolling once before they settle on his, whining when you catch a carmine gaze, filled only with a type of passion and adoration that it makes your hole clench around him.

“Breathe through it, will you do that for me, baby? Huh?” He talks to you like you’re some airhead and, in a sense, you guess you are at the moment. Only able to gasp, mouth dropping open for his tongue to swipe the inside of it, hands pawing at his shoulders and nape.

“Cmon, baby, breathe with me. Gonna make you feel so good,” he promises, watches how your eyebrows screw up, how your eyes struggle to stay open.

You’ve always had the bad habit of holding your breath when you orgasm, and Bakugou’s heard somewhere that breathing through it makes the feeling all the more powerful. And he’s been doing it with you ever since—pressing his chest to yours, his mouth against your own, his breath in, your breath out.

When you cum, you remember to suck in your deep breaths, eyes hopelessly rolling to the back of your head as you shake and tremble all over. Bakugou praises you the whole time though, groaning and whispering about how good you did for him, how tight you are, how you listen so, so well.

His own breath stutters as he follows you, toes curled against the mattress as his breath slows until his balls finally unclench and he can relax into your body. You’re both boneless in seconds, and you figure the mess can wait until you gain feeling back in your body again.

[burquillos]

Sparky sparky boom men and how to keep them in line

[ay-chuu]

SHE'S A BEAST. I CALL HER KARMA

(We make bad boys in love with karma, not toxic. DNI toxic writers. Fem!reader)

He didn't want to fall in love with you. him and love are distant concepts. He was just greedy. He achieved what he was passionate about and enjoyed it. He thought of you as a greed too...

'Damn,I think I love her...'

But when he realized he was in love with you despite all the inner rejection, he felt the dice roll again. What if he's an ambition for you? Maybe he was just a man of ambitions you thought that couldn't have... (harem rizz) But he didn't care. The strength of your love was all he cared about.

Shawty so bad, I'm sprung and I don't care.

But he was safe in your hands. He knew. Maybe he didn't even need to be real. All he wanted was your special and only love. It was the only real thing. The vows he had made over the years and the ambitions he had sought to earn had finally given him a blessing. Love... Was it karma? Maybe it's just karma between you and him. A karma that returns with love everytime.

Her love is like a d**g, i was tryna hit it and quit it.

But he knew in inside that he only hopes that your love is fake since he cant handle that much of powerfullness. You love him raw. You love him for him. Did he deserve you? He didnt know but if you let him after showing your sincereness, he will gladly.

But lil'mama so dope! I messed around and got addicted.

Tagging two of my favs: @fukashiin @senpaiofotome

DAZAI, Fyodor, Chuuya, LEONA LEONA LEONA... (I wanna write REALLY bad a fic with that song for him) , SCARAMOUCHE, Jouno, Jamil, Jade, Diluc, Lucifer, Satan, Barbatos, BAKUGOU, DABII, Idia, Rook. (And maybe your favs)

[willowser]

bakugou + strawberries ; 2.7k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

mina suggests speed-dating.

first as a joke — you think — after the two of you spend too many weekends in a row watching sappy rom-coms on her couch while crying into a bowl of trail mix, and then a second time, and then a third time, after you refuse.

in her last attempt, she pulls out the big ones: her upcoming birthday. it will be so fun!! she tells you, with her big eyes and bigger pout, looking at you as if you'd hung the stars by saying yes. it's a cheap shot, really, because she knows you or anyone would do pretty much anything when it comes to mina the birthday girl.

— and that's how you find yourself here, sitting in too nice of an outfit to be spending your allotted time listening to a man bash his ex-girlfriend.

you might have found him a bit cuter if he wasn't doing that, or if he showed even an ounce of interest in you whatsoever. instead, he's treating this like a therapy session, and you're not getting paid for it.

when the timer rings, you're more than thankful. irritated enough, even, to spin around the room in search of mina — who is happily watching on as two men grapple with each other for who gets to sit across from her next. you suppose being a top hero is good for that, finding someone who is willing to give you their all.

to yourself, you sigh quietly and turn back to the little bowl of strawberries in the center of the small table, the flutes of champagne on either side of it. mina's bottle, you noticed, is almost totally empty; your last date hadn't even looked at yours, nor did he seem to think to offer you a drink.

it's not that you're jealous. really. you wouldn't even say that you're interested in dating right now, finding your job at the agency to be too much of a whirlwind to balance, anyway. you love mina: she's your closest friend, your home away from home, your cheerleader and personal hero — but working for her is nothing short of a full-time job.

sometimes your bed is a little lonely, when she's not staying the night in it after another rom-com evening, but you really can't think that you'd like someone in it, anyway, much less a stranger. it's hard to explain where your time goes, who it goes with; having to share that with someone, you think, would take more emotional energy than you have right now.

and maybe it also sorta, kinda has to do with the fact that the one and only man you're thinking of outside of work — is the same man you see inside of it every single day.

the very thought of bakugou has your stomach turning, painfully. the image of him in the late afternoons with the sun glowing in his hair, the gentle look he spares you as you wait for the elevator, how he'd looked at you today, when you told him where you and mina were going; you don't know how anyone could make you feel the way he does, at least right now.

the seat across from you is taken up suddenly, then, and you look up into the eyes of someone that looks — nice. a little shy, a little nervous, as they introduce themselves. they decide to pour you a glass of champagne, and they even tell you, openly, voice shaking, how nice you look tonight.

you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, much to your own surprise.

"i'm actually allergic to strawberries," they tell you with a laugh, gently pushing the bowl closer to you. "that would be a hell of a first date, wouldn't it?"

you agree. "definitely one to remember!"

"well, in that case—" they joke, suddenly leaning forward as if they're going to pull it back towards them, and it's so earnest and sweet that you feel your heartbeat in your throat a bit. "i sound like i'm kissing up to you, but—you have a really nice smile, also."

you have to sit back in your seat, fanning your face dramatically as you both laugh. "wow, i'm not used to someone—"

"time's up, extra."

you blink so hard that your eyes are crossed when you open them, and you look up at the man standing there, waiting for his turn, just as the timer dings and the room comes to life with a bustle. the person across from you only frowns, too timid to say anything in response before they're getting up and casting you a regretful glance. they're barely a foot away before the chair is taken, so aggressively that it scrapes against the floor and shakes the table.

you can't believe what you're seeing. you can't believe bakugou is sitting across from you, right now, ruining everything.

"what—are you doing?" you hiss, though your feelings — with a mind of their own — flutter like butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

the scowl he gives you is ugly, as always, but his face is smoother than you remember it being today; freshly shaven, maybe. the cologne he's wearing is strong, woodsy, potent enough that it dizzies you from across the table, that you can only imagine how sweet it smells soaking into the soft skin of his neck. even the shirt he's wearing, you notice, is a button down that you've never seen him in.

"the hell do you mean?" he growls, face pinched as he leans closer, so that his voice doesn't carry as it usually does. "'s'it look like i'm doin'? saving you from some sorry dumbass."

"bakugou," you grit, though the room quiets as everyone takes their seats again, and you have to swallow back your annoyance so you don't draw anymore attention to yourself.

you're not dumb enough to think he'd get away without some people fighting for his attention, too, the same way they did to mina, and — as irritated as you are, suddenly, at his appearance — you're not exactly keen on sharing him, either.

"they were very nice, thank you very much,"

"psh," he rolls his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "couldn't even look me in the eyes to tell me to fuck off—"

"maybe because they were worried you would blast them through the window—"

"and i would have—"

"oh!" you clench your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your anger back down. losing your cool isn't a good look, especially in a room of people that are trying to get to know you. "are you serious right now? why are you here?"

"you really wanna spend our five minutes doin' this?"

and there's something about the way he says it — our five minutes — that has your stomach turning in that horrible way it always does, whenever you bite into the softer parts of him. the look on his face is pensive, nervous if you thought that he was capable of being nervous. his shirt, his shaven cheeks, his alluring cologne; he's here, right now, on a date with you. pushed his way into it, even.

you straighten in your seat and sit back, dropping your eyes to the table, ashamed at the fire you've just thrown at him. "can you at least tell me why you're here in the first place?"

bakugou is silent for long enough that you can't stand not to take him in, how appealing he is to look at, how your heart sings when he looks back. one shake of his head has him sighing and then he's leaning back, too, staring only at the strawberries.

"this is her birthday thing, ain't it?"

"yeah," you murmur in agreement quietly, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap as your nerves harden into bitter disappointment. he's here for the same reasons you are, you tell yourself: for your friend, only.

distantly, you try to remind yourself that this nothing out of the ordinary. that you shouldn't be thinking of him this way, getting so hung-up on someone that's never expressed an interest in you to begin with. there have been a few late night conversations in the stairwell, that ran longer than they should have, that revealed more than they should have — but it doesn't make him yours. not in the way you want it to.

in an attempt to swallow down your own sourness, you reach for a strawberry, picking through them until you find the fattest one, and then bite it to the stem. a little stream of juice sprays out, dripping down over your bottom lip as you scramble for your napkin. you lick after it before patting at your face, spreading the sugar, the sweetness.

bakugou leans across the table so suddenly that you startle, mouth twisted like he's struggling to say what he's about to say. "alright, look—"

the timer rings, horribly, but his ruby stare never dims, never leaves yours and yours never leaves his, either, as if you're both suddenly trapped in a weird limbo of in-between; in-between the quiet moments, in-between the loudest ones, in-between everyone else, together.

and then mina notices.

"oh my god, blasty, you came!" she shouts, springing up from her seat to wave at you both from across the room. her earrings jingle loudly, bracelet beads knocking together as she leans too far to the left, champagne-drunk already. it snaps the moment between you and him, worry filling the gaps as you think about how you're going to get her out of here, once the night is over.

bakugou sinks a little further into his chair, as if it will hide him, before grumbling to himself. cheeks reddening, you realize; strawberry-kissed. he heaves a heavy sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes, deep enough that an ache develops in your own, and he opens his mouth to speak again when someone else approaches the table.

"okay, time to switcheroo!" he sings, grinning too cheerily at you, enough to make you laugh at his enthusiasm.

it darkens bakugou, considerably; "piss off," is all he says, scooting his chair further into the table as if to claim it. he barely gets another word out before the man is starting to protest, and the look he gives him then is awfully viscious: nostrils flared, looking up from beneath his long lashes and furrowed brow, as if this stranger had pissed in your champagne. "i said, fuck off, before i howitzer you through the—"

"okay!" you interrupt, reaching across the table with both hands to close one of bakugou's. his fingers are curled dangerously, and you swear you can see little sizzles of steam slipping between your linked fingers. "let's just—do an extra skip this time, okay? how about you just gives us this one, and you go to the next table?"

the man frowns — which is a bit flattering — but ultimately takes the lifeline you offer, trailing away without another word down to the next table. you can feel the couple on the other side watching you and bakugou now, a little open-mouthed, and your heart quickens at the worry that they're noticing him, that your new five minutes are going to be wasted, too.

—but his hand hasn't moved from yours and his eyes have returned, full to the brim with some emotion you can't read. if you had to guess, you'd say regret, maybe, but you aren't sure how to take that, and so you don't.

you should let him go, literally and figuratively, but the solidity of your logic is no match for the soft beat of butterfly wings in your gut.

"what are you doing?" you ask him again, softly, surely, because you want to hear the answer whatever it is. he either needs to deny you, here and now so you can move on — or he needs to acknowledge the confliction on his face, the soft intertwine of his fingers into yours.

bakugou looks at you now the way he does in the stairwell, the way he does when the sun is painting you warm, too. "i told you," he murmurs, "savin' you from some dumbass."

"but why do you even care?"

another heavy sigh falls from him and you can feel your glass-fragile heart breaking when his hand slips from yours, a little roughly. it surprises you when he grabs the champagne bottle from the center of the table and pours himself a small glass, downing it in one, bitter go before filling up your flute, too.

liquid confidence, maybe; his cheeks darken, noticeably, before he's running a rough hand over his face, still struggling to wash out the words.

"why the hell do you think?" he finally says, though his harsh question lacks the abrasive tone his voice usually has; instead it's gentler, more sincere, bakugou — katsuki — in his rawest form. "why d'you think i do—any of this shit?" one hand waves around to gesture to the span of the dining room, but you know he means more than that, much more. "you think i spend that much time after work just 'cause i have time to waste? jesus."

"i don't know," you say, earning a flat look. "why do you?"

"why do you?"

you take the glass from the center of the table and peer down into it, how it bubbles. maybe you're playing dumb and maybe that's what's really bothering him, but — someone like bakugou deals in absolutes, and you need him to do it now.

the struggle is clear, though, across his face, thickening how he swallows and turning down his lips that much more. you feel a bit bad in the silence, when the timer rings and the muscle in his cheek jumps again.

before anyone can even approach the table, he simply sticks his hand out, and the man beside you was definitely watching on, because he doesn't spare you a glance before going around.

and maybe, you think, decidedly, that's enough.

"because i don't want to go home yet," you tell him honestly, trying to ignore the blood rushing in your ears with his mouth twists and he starts to squirm at your truth. "because i'd rather spend the night with you in a stairwell, than anywhere else."

there's a ludicrous amount of tension that leaves his shoulders then, so much that you didn't notice it until it was gone, and he slumps back into his chair with pink ears, now. the sight makes you smile, widely, as if the sight is a confirmation.

maybe for him, it is.

"yeah, well," he grumbles, eyes dropping to the strawberries before darting away, as if he'd thought of something he shouldn't have. "that's what 'm sayin', too."

"no, you're not!" you laugh, nose crinkling when he side-eyes you with a frown. "you're not hardly saying anything!"

"i'm here, ain't i?" he argues, huffing like a bull. "makin' a damn idiot of myself just to stop you from—"

"—going home with some dumbass?"

"well, yeah!"

"so you want me to be going home with you, then?"

"yeah! no! i mean—" he scowls when you laugh again, lip pulling up over his teeth as if he means to bite into your softest parts, too. the thought is more thrilling that you're willing to admit — at least for now. "quit laughin'!"

but it's not just you; across the dining room, you realize mina's giggling, too, turned around in her seat, ignoring the chatty man that wouldn't shut up about his ex. when bakugou turns around to glare at her, she nearly tips out of her chair by throwing her head too far back, and when he moves to stand up like he needs to help her, all she does is wave at him to turn back around.

and he does, to you, cheeks flaring as he grabs the bottle of champagne again, pouring himself his own glass to glare into. he mutters out another quiet, "jesus" before slamming both his elbows on the table, rudely, and holding his glass up for — what you belatedly realize is — a cheers.

behind him, the afternoon sun has long since set, replaced now by nightfall and stars that shine through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows — but he glows regardless, and the look he gives you is just as warm.