#charming!reader

[yuwuta]

you hook up with izuku drunkenly at someone’s birthday party and it’s not even that you regret it in the morning it’s just that your post nut clarity hits that you slept with the boy you’ve known since pre-k all because of a couple of drinks and when he wakes up you’re still freaking out and you make him pinky promise that this won’t mess with your friendship, “izuku do you hear me? we are NOT going to be that pair of sad best friends that fucks everything up just because of sex. sex is nothing. we’re never gonna do it again, so we’ll be fine right?” and the whole time he’s nodding along with wide, glassy eyes not listening to a goddamn thing you’re saying because he’s been in love with you since middle school, and last night you said you loved him, too. granted he was inside of you, and he said it first, but you said it back, and by that point it was well after one in the morning so the only thing you two were drunk on were each other. it’s probably why the very next day he is at your doorstep with a notebook in hand and a grin on his face that’s something right in between cocky and sweet when he says “i think we should sleep together again. and before you say no, i made a list about why 😁 number one: we’re really good at it. number two—”

[drgnflyteabox]

Fem!reader x 141

Honestly might be able to to something with the gross stuff I saw at the hardware store I used to work at (except make it hot and 141)

Imagine you're a cashier, the only one with early morning availability so you're there at 5:45am for the 6am start. It's always the worst kinds of contractors there: rude, tired, dirty, leering gazes and sexist comments

You're pretty sick of it, but you get paid a bit more than minimum wage and you're done by 11am so, you take it with a cheery smile and fast service

The 141 contracting company starts spending at your store. So much, in fact, that your manager personally takes you aside to mention just how much they do - nearly a million a year - and how no matter what, your job is to be nice and please them

Well, you can do that. You've dealt with crazy, awful old contractors screaming in your face about lumber prices at 6:30am more than once, heard them talking about your tit's or your ass right in front of you - you can handle it

Until the masked one comes in first and hes huge, dark hoodie and cargo pants hanging low on his hips. He hands you 3k in bills only there are bloodstains on them and he watches you closely the whole time you count them out

It's... not a first, but the look he gives you makes you shiver. Pale eyelashes, tall, intimidating

The second is nicer. Too nice, in fact. He charms you before you're even fully awake, and your shift goes by quickly thinking about that winning smile and the way he'd touched your fingers while he handed you a stack of bills... not to mention those soft brown eyes

The third is... intense, for 8am. He rolls on the balls of his feet, stares at you harder than the masked one. He offers to buy you a hot chocolate at the coffee shop next door and grins like you made a joke when you decline

Their boss is fucking dreamy. Even you have to admit it, trying not to look up at his mustached, frankly porno-esque face. He's huge, as tall as the others but thick, with a little pudge around his belly. He trudges in with thick workboots and a stained t shirt, pays for 24k worth of material with a lazy smile on his face like it's nothing

You might ask head cash to move you to the garden center after all...

[caramelcove]

Cat distribution system had a bit of a malfunction 😬

Stay tuned for the continuation 🥰💕💞

Part 1.5

[hungharrington]

show-time

request: i cannot stop thinking about asking steve if he ever got himself off to you before you got together. he’d be so blushy and sheepish about it but man it’d be fun to watch him squirm 🤤

2.1k words, established relationship, masturbation (steve), gn!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s a universally awkward experience to have a sex-scene come on in a movie. Unless one’s watching it alone, of course.

You are not. Cuddled in behind you, cushioning you against his chest, Steve lounges, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Sure, in terms of awkwardness-rankings, watching this with your boyfriend who you also have sex with isn’t as bad as, like, watching with parents.

But still. You kinda can’t tell if you should be watching or averting your eyes — and you don’t want to peek over your shoulder to figure out what Steve’s doing.

The man in the film grunts, his hand in his pants jerking furiously, his eyes fixed on a polaroid of the film’s love interest.

You squint—surely this is stretching the truth a bit?

Yeah, yeah, guys jerk off, you know that - this isn’t your first day on earth.

You just didn’t think it would be like, romantic style. People in movies kiss in the rain and run through airports, so they’re hardly known for being grounded in reality.

The man in the film groans lewdly and you feel Steve shift slightly behind you, his fingers looped around your middle twitching.

Did he-? When you-? You suppose you’ve never really thought about it.

You’re asking before you can second guess yourself.

“Did you do this?”

Steve’s attention switches idly from the screen to you as you crane your neck to look back at him. His brows pinch together.

“Did I do what?” He asks, doting brown eyes searching your face.

You fluster a bit. This is certainly moving you up through the awkwardness rankings. But now it’s in your head —now you’ve said it — you can’t turn back.

The thought of it blazes hotly through your mind.

Steve, all those months ago, still just crushing on you, but never quite making a move. He’d told you, whispered his secret, when you’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to be your boyfriend officially, that he’d been sweet on you far longer than you knew.

But the image of it is what has you interested. You imagine Steve, his fist stuffed into his tight jeans, working himself over and biting his fist to hide his moans, at the mere thought of you.

You’d had plenty of long, late night conversations on the phone before officially getting together.

The thought of if he’d ever touched himself while you talked, none the wiser on the other end, wanders into your mind — and your stomach clenches hotly at the thought.

Clearing your throat, you tip your head towards the screen.

“Like, before we got together?”

It takes Steve another glance at the screen to realise what you’re asking. A simmering, pink colour crawls up his neck and in a moment, you go from feeling awkward to feeling downright devious.

Steve clears his throat, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth from the screen to your face. “Uh, I- I mean, why do you ask?”

A coy smile curls at your mouth. “I wanna know how accurate it is.”

Steve stares down at you, the pink now creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. God, he looks delectable like this.

Is this how he looked when he did it too? Blushy and embarrassed to commit such a filthy act thinking of someone that wasn’t his? A hot buzz drizzles through your core, fringed with endearment.

Steve licks his lips nervously. His hands on your stomach stiffen and then relax. The film plays on in the background. His expression shifts towards something sheepish.

“It’s — I, uh, well, yes.” He stammers. “It’s accurate, yes.”

“How many times?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, but his face gets redder. “What is this, an interrogation now?”

You giggle, drinking in his evidently embarrassed state. The confirmation of him doing it solidifies the perfect image of him in your mind, your own film-scene imagining Steve in the same position as the character on screen. In real life, Steve moves his hand to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“I’m just… enjoying the idea of it.” You muse.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, tongue jammed into the side of his cheek. “Not just—” He fumbles for his words. “Just enjoying seeing me, I don’t know, like—”

His words trail off and his head tips back with a groan, exposing the delicious expanse of his throat. It begs you for kisses and love bites. He moves both hands up to cover his face.

You wait til he pulls them away to nod. “Absolutely, baby. Watching you squirm is far more interesting than this film.”

In the background, the man on screen gives a pornographic shout as he finishes in his pants. Steve manages to turn redder, even if he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

“But I’m just,” You huff and pout. “Put out, I guess. You did all that for me and I didn’t even get to see it.”

At the exact same time, you watch as Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing out in obvious lust, and something pressed against your back thickens up.

Steve, to his credit, only makes one strained noise which he immediately smothers with a cough. You feel his hips twitch beneath you and make a quick decision, confidence built on the sweltering heat of Steve’s face.

You push forward and up, then quickly turn, slotting your knees across either side of Steve’s thighs, perching atop them nicely.

You’re not outright in his lap—there’s room between the two of you for what you hope will happen.

It takes Steve another long moment to catch your drift.

“Wait, you want-?” He inhales sharply. You can see the twitch of his cock through his loose sweatpants. “To see?”

“To watch,” You clarify, smiling almost mischievously. “Yeah.”

Then just to check, “Is that okay?”

Steve’s breath shudders out of him but he’s nodding before the question is completely out of your mouth.

“H-Here?” He checks. You nod, resting your hands atop your thighs to show you don’t plan on using them. Steve’s hungry eyes scan you up and down, the tent in his pants pitching up in arousal.

“Just show me how you did it,” You murmur, words on the side of sultry. Your own excitement, that faint thrum of pleasure, has already started to pool low in your gut.

“Yeah, but I normally don’t have an audience for it,” Steve mumbles, his left-hand reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats.

They come undone with a simple tug. Steve stretches the elastic out a bit and then slips his hand in.

You know the moment his large hand settles around his cock from the flutter of his lashes, the soft groan that curls out his throat, rough and sweet all at once.

This… This is new. You usually don’t get such a focused look at Steve’s pleasure, at the little shifts in his expression, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to pay proper attention. Getting this much detail sends a delicious throb between your thighs. You hardly want to blink.

Steve’s hand moves slow to begin with, slow, gentle strokes to get himself properly warmed up.

After a moment, he draws his hand back and some part of you worries he’s too weirded out now. But he only brings it up, to his mouth, and you realise what he’s doing.

Quickly stealing his hand, Steve’s eyes widen as you let spit drop from your lips and pool in his palm. Another soft, jagged noise drags from his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs, more to himself. “This is not what it’s like when it’s just me, this is, like, ten fucking times hotter.”

His hand sneaks back into his sweatpants but this time when he grips his cock, the reaction this time is immediate.

Steve moans, louder this time, his eyes crushing closed and his hand starts moving faster. With the help of your spit, it doesn’t take long before you can hear it, the slick sounds of him fucking his cock desperately.

His head tips back against the couch and a piece of hair flops over, into his eyes.

You reach out and brush it to the side and Steve’s eyes crease open at the same time a whine threads through his moans.

“Fuck,” He grunts. He sinks in teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes desperately roaming your face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

“That what you thought bout?”

You’re impressed with yourself for the cool, calm demeanour you’re portraying. Steve nods, the motion a little wild, his hand still making those lewd, wet noises.

“Uh huh,” His voice shakes a little. “Just, fuck, dunno, like, your face and-uh-what y-you’d sound like.”

Your eyes glitter with interest, ego raring at the devotion your boyfriend is spilling out.

“What I’d sound like?”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers, his breathing heavy. “Like, doing this.”

Now that’s a picture; Steve jerking off to the thought of you, hot and bothered with your hand between your thighs. You give a breathy gasp without meaning to.

Steve hears it, groaning louder as he quickens his pace. You sort of want to reach forward and ruck up his shirt, so you can see the glorious clench of his stomach as he rolls his hips up into his warm hand.

“Can I see more?” You ask tentatively. “Please?”

This time, it’s more like a whimper that creeps out of Steve’s throat.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles through a stilted moan. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He swallows heavily, his free hand reaching down to push at his waistband. You help, lifting up to help tug the fabric out of the way.

Obstructions removed, your mouth salivates. Steve’s cock is pretty — and it looks that much more enticing when it’s worked up, pink and the tip of it leaking all over his hand.

Steve’s a fucking vision. His head still lolled back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His throat, dotted with moles, crawling with pinkness. His big, veiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it steadily.

You think about how much you’d like the lick the trail of hair on his tummy, down, down, down.

“You seem close,” You say and it earns you a reedy whimper in response. “Is it- does it normally happen this fast?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve whispers back. His eyes are closed and after a moment, you realise he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly, even as his hand doesn’t slow. “I—ngh— n-normally don’t have such good, ah, material. My imagination is— is not this good.”

You’re equal parts flattered and flustered, heat twinging in your gut.

“Can— can I?” Steve whimpers out suddenly.

The question nearly throws you. You almost say Can you what? when the meaning of it douses you in fire.

He’s asking permission.

Oh, that does something to you.

“Yeah, Stevie,” You say, voice lilting closer to a coo. “I wanna see it, please.”

Something shifts in his motions, changing gear as Steve’s hand suddenly starts moving in smaller, tighter strokes, just over the head of his cock. His head tucks forward, his eyes scrunched closed, and he’s whimpers out, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It only takes a few seconds, the whine in Steve’s voice pitching higher and higher, until something gives.

His hips take over, something desperate and primal shoving them up, his thrusts rapid and frantic. His hand doesn’t stop moving, not even as his cock starts to leak out ropes of cum, shooting out enough to cover the back of his knuckles. It joins your spit to rub slick against his cock.

He keens pitifully. For one long minute, you listen to Steve’s breathy whines get softer and softer, watch his desperate thrusts abate til an overstimulated shiver wracks through his body. Then, and only then, does he collapse back, sinking into the couch.

He’s a bit ruined, truthfully.

And you’ve soaked through your panties.

“You’re welcome,” You croak, throat dry. His hair is back in his eyes and lean forward, tenderly brushing it out of the way. You leave your hand there, cupping the side of his face, and Steve leans into it, still panting.

“What?” He asks.

“You were thanking me,” You point out cheekily.

Steve’s face plunges back to that scarlet colour you’re beginning to adore most ardently. He turns his face further to hide away in the palm of your hands.

“Shut up,” He mumbles.

“So you don’t wanna do that again?” You tease.

Steve pulls back and eyes you. “Now, hang on, I didn’t say that…”

[yourstrulysylus]

CRE: https://m.weibo.cn/u/2006315655 ✨

[jjslaybank]

a short rafe smut involving somnophilia + daddy kink. MDNI. enjoy!

the sound starts off as a small, almost inaudible whimper, but rafe picks up on it quickly. he decides to pay it no mind and continues to sleep.

"mm, daddy," you mewl, tossing and turning. "n-need cock..."

now rafe is fully awake. he turns to look at you, a small smile on his face as you throw one leg over a pillow and start to hump it.

"please, daddy," you whine in your sleep, a desperate sigh leaving your lips as your hips grind against the soft thing.

"aw," rafe coos, palming his growing cock as he continues to watch you. "need your daddy's cock 24/7, yeah? even when she's sleeping my girl's desparate for cock, hm?"

he gently moves the pillow away from between your legs, straddling you instead. you immediately groan at the lost of contact, your hips desparately grinding the air in search of friction.

"i got ya, baby," rafe says, gently rubbing circles on your arms before pulling down his pants. he slips you out of your bottoms and rubs your clit with his thumb.

"fucking hell, baby," he mutters, rubbing your clit. "you're fucking wet. crazy fuckin' wet."

"daddy," you whimper in response.

"i'm giving ya this cock, sweets, don't worry."

he aligns himself with your hole and pushes in.

"holy shit," he groans. "y'so fucking wet, baby. daddy slid right in."

he rocks his hips gently into yours, noting with an amused smile how even in your sleep you fuck yourself back onto him. it surprises rafe how quickly his orgasm builds.

"fuck, give it to me," rafe mutters to himself, rubbing your clit quickly. you squeak in response. "cum for daddy, sweetheart. fuckin' cum for your daddy. come on, baby, all over his fat cock."

your back arches off the bed as you tremble violently through your orgasm. your pushed up shirt hikes even further up, exposing your breasts and hard nipples. rafe can't help but pinch your nipples gently as you continue to cum.

the feeling of your cunt clenching around his length sends him over the edge. he cums into your spasming hole, thrusting forward to fill you completely.

"fuck, you're such a good girl for daddy," he smiles, slowly slipping out of you and fixing himself before going back to sleep.

©️ jjslaybank, 2024.

[shotmrmiller]

re: rugby team ghoap

it'd been a one-off, seize-the-moment kind of thing. casual hookups aren't really for you, plus you distinctly remember your ex prating on about how the team would only be here for the weekend hence the absolute burning need to go, and you've got work monday.

goodbye, great knowing them. you'd traipsed out of the hotel room with your sneakers in hand, soap's used jersey in the other- a memento of sorts, a trophy. mild serial killer behavior but you reckon since you just became another pearl in their long string of conquests, the least you could do is take something with you that won't be gone with a warm epsom salt bath and a couple of days rest.

("would ye believe yer the prettiest we've ever brought back with us?" right. you know where you stand on that scale, and people like you don't typically pull men like them. another cringe-worthy comment like that and you'd mistake their interest with pity.)

you'd put both jerseys in the wash later that day, and the rattling of your washing machine marked the end of your exciting weekend.

or so you'd thought. from your side of things, you'd wiped your hands clean of their sweat, spit and come and went home, once again falling back into semi-familiarity, expecting to go to work feeling completely relaxed and loose, in more ways than one, while ignoring the photos taken of you and the "star players" at the stadium on social media.

(no one caught your face, what bloody luck.)

when you see them again, it's by pure chance. you'd been ordering a sandwich at a deli down the street, hand already reaching for your wallet when an arm curls around your shoulders, dark, coarse hair of a forearm brushing against your cheek.

cedarwood and citrus. it clings to your senses— a sharp, tangy reminder of that time you'd only look back on when the familiar pang of want pooled searing hot between your legs. small world, you suppose.

"didnae leave a note. stole my jersey. 'm surprised ye didnae leave us money on the table, bonnie." warmth flared beneath your cheeks but you didn't cow to his crude joke.

"i suppose i could've left a tip. what do you want?"

the playful lines around his eyes smoothed as his lips straightened into a firm line, his eyes frostbitten. you ignore the way his touch makes you feel trapped, tethered, a cage made of velvet.

"took my shirt and then didn't show up to a single game after tha'. jus' gettin' wha' i'm owed. unless he's yer favorite."

how can he be your favorite when you know nothing about the sport they play and have no interest in knowing?

"too bad. we come as a package. get yer food, we've a place nearby."

(simon had been nowhere near as good-natured as johnny had about you leaving without a word. made you spit out apologies with swollen lips, only accepted the ones that came with a fluttering of your raw pussy around the splitting thickness of him while soap condescendingly cooed in your ear about lessons having to be learned the hard way.)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

"ahh… that was a close call."

the wind nips at your skin. you're held in place, supported by a larger build — his arm looped around your body, steady, as the curse in front of you wails, fizzles and swirls into an orb on his open palm.

geto cradles it, for a moment. a perfect marble. it’s pocketed, swiftly, as he helps you stand up.

"t-thank you."

a smile. when he lets go, you almost stumble. unsteady on your feet; embarrassed, because a second-grade shouldn't have spelled any trouble for you. you're familiar with techniques of concealment, but you still didn't see it coming, and the gash from its sharp talons would have been in your flesh by now if your classmate hadn't reacted — a splat of crimson on the cobblestone of the temple grounds.

"you should be more careful," he hums, and you wonder if he knows how much it stings. he must, because his next words are softer, a kind tilt of his head. "are you alright?"

"yeah," a shallow breath. "i'm fine."

a breeze curls around your spine, counts the vertebrae. cold. goosegumbs blooming across skin. you shiver, hugging your midriff with your arms in a pitiful attempt to shield it from the evening air sneaking in through the torn shreds of your uniform, sharp cuts through sturdy polyester. you'll have to ask for a new one, but that's a problem for later — right now, you just feel exposed.

geto parts his lips, a silent oh.

then he reaches for the golden button right above his heart. you watch him fidget with it, until he's slipped it through the gap, his own uniform unbuttoned — the soft muscles of his arms twitching idly as he lifts them enough to take it off. you've never thought of what he wears under it, if he wears anything at all. the button-up beneath shields you from those improper thoughts, a pure, uncreased white.

"here."

when you look up, he's got the jacket folded over his wrist.

offering it to you.

"… are you sure?" you ask, with mismatched blinks, meekly receiving the bundle of black cloth. geto nods, still smiling. "won't you get cold?"

"i'll be fine," he insists. "it's a little big, but it should keep you warm."

under the shade of the plum tree behind him, its branches flecked with burgundy, buds long past bursting into soft, foam-like blossoms, the brown of his eyes is barely visible. they're dark, abyssal, something like the surface of a frozen lake.

but still warm. somehow.

(you're long past agonizing over why it is you feel so safe around him.)

geto turns around, his broad shoulders on full display — the expanse of his back, the skin at the nape of his neck, loose strands of ink-black sticking out from his bun. he slips his hands into his pockets, and hums:

"you can change. i won't look."

your heartbeat sputters. it's not like you don't believe him — he's not like gojo or shoko, geto can be trusted with things like this — but it's still embarrassing. cautiously, you eye his uniform, held in place against your chest. standard, smooth fabric, a night sky expanse kind of black to hide bloodstains and grime. geto's is clean, though. geto doesn’t bleed at all.

(a boy blessed by god. favoured by the world. that's what your parents would have called him.)

with a shake of your head, you discard the thought — the voice in your head saying he's not even from a clan and he's still better than you, isn’t that funny? just turning around, sheepishly, finding it hard to look at him. glancing left and right, just to be safe, but no one. gojo still isn't back. a stroke of luck; you'd rather not have him see you in such a shabby state.

you're glad it was geto.

once you've shrugged off your tattered uniform, all that remains is to drape yourself in his own. and you do; you stick your arms through the gaps, fix the collar, and button it up. it's warm, soft, you're practically drowning in it, waves of polyester like a blanket around your shoulders — and it smells like him. rich and sweet, a hint of something earthy, homemade herbs and wooden oil. laundry detergent. it makes heat bloom at the nape of your neck, a pinprick, the feeling of him surrounding you.

when you turn to look at him, his back is still facing you. you wonder what he's thinking about.

"i'm done."

geto was right, you think. it is big on you. the hem cuts off right above your knees, the sleeves dwarfing your hands and slipping down your wrists when you lift them up to rub the dust from your eyes. it makes you feel smaller than you really are, somewhat shy.

but it feels nice. nuzzling against the collar, absently, a soft smile blooms on your lips — tuft-like petals dancing just behind you, with the swaying of the evening air. you inhale it, taste the sweetness, burnt incense and clusters of soon-to-be fruit.

with gentle eyes, you lift your head, and there he stands. just watching you. watching your lips part.

"thank you, geto-kun."

the words fizzle out in the space between you.

the boy before you offers no response. he stands there, strangely silent, like a marble statue — eyes wide, for a moment, looking you over, up and down, you can see his gaze stray — before finding its way back to your own. his adam's apple bobs.

(is that a flush to his ears?)

"ah," he clears his throat, regaining his ability to speak, a raised fist covering the parting of his lips. "— it's no trouble at all. as long as you're comfortable…”

"i am," you quip. "it smells good."

a moment passes. geto angles his head to the left, away from you, breathing in through his nose.

"i'm… glad."

in the shadows of the trees, the wide temple gate, his neck simmers cherry-pink.

(your cheeks bloom with heat.)

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air feels thick with something, a pleasant awkwardness, the tips of your fingers still buzzing with warmth. finally, he speaks; seemingly composed, a mask slipping back into its rightful place; eyes crescented, half-moons.

"we should head back, then." he turns towards the stairway, leading back to the village, meeting your gaze with a seamless smile. "are you hungry?"

you follow him, pliantly, as he begins his descent. the view from the top of the mountain is breathtaking, clusters of trees parting to expose riverbeds on the ground below, tiny wooden houses, fields of golden wheat; the silhouette of a cityscape at the edge of the horizon. a sparrow takes flight overhead, singing softly. the breeze ruffles your hair, smooths geto's bangs out of the way, gives you a good look at his pupil, the deep sea of cedar surrounding it — flecks of amber, like the first spark of a match catching aflame. when you don't answer, it catches your stare.

"um — a little bit," you sputter. averting your gaze.

geto smiles. you can hear it in his voice, honey-slicked and sweet. "let's stop by a restaurant, then. the one by the station didn't look so bad."

"… sure."

the stairway's steps give out a crunch, when your feet make contact, soiled by dirt and gravel, patches of grass breaking through the slate. you're careful not to lose your balance, with nothing for you to hold on to — nothing but the ripped uniform in your arms, his sleeves, the added length nothing but a distraction. you exhale, softly, fidgeting with the hem.

"… it's a little embarrassing to be seen like this, though…"

a humoured breath. geto turns to look at you. ”you have nothing to be embarrassed about," he reassures you, a solid quality to the intonation of his voice. with the way he's speaking, you could almost believe him; his gaze mulling you over, softening, something breezy to the smile on his lips when his lips part. "really."

… it only makes you feel more exposed.

once you finally reach the end of the trail, feet finding solace on steady ground, a head of white hair crosses your vision. he must have been waiting for you to get back — black frames catching the light of the sun just before it disappears behind molten clouds, blinding your eyes to anything else. gojo, watching the sky. when you take that final step, entering his line of vision, he snaps his gaze towards you.

"suguruuu…" he whines, turning on his heel to face you. you linger behind, letting geto take the lead, watching as your classmate strolls closer. "what's the deal with this place? the gashapons were all —"

a pause, when his gaze falls on your frame. slides down to your uniform, and then back up, to meet your eyes. he glances at geto, the white of his shirt.

for a moment, his expression is blissfully blank.

then he grins.

"… oh?"

heat sparks at the tips of your fingers, the sides of your neck, all the way to the shells of your ears — gojo looks delighted, looking back and forth between you and geto like a toddler deciding between two bags of candy. it makes you feel small, but geto only rolls his eyes, bumps his shoulder against yours; a gentle, silent don't mind him.

when he walks past his friend, he mutters something, just under his breath.

"shut up."

[03den]

charm! hamzah smau

hamzah knows enough about you to like you, but is it enough to keep your relationship stable? he wants more, and it's up to you to decide, under the eyes of thousands of people, your future together. ( hamzah x youtuber gn reader )

c.w: angst w happy ending. situationship. secret relationship. reader is emotional unavailable. miscommunication. ghosting/break ups oops. one-sided feelings but not really. arguing. brainrot humor. nsfw innuendos but nothing explicit

a.n: i do not know hamzah personally and in no way do i believe this portrays how he is and/or acts irl, and neither should you. refrain from connecting him and his personal life with my writing. i only do this for fun :)

taglist: open (send an ask or comment here with your username to join)

each chapter is paired by a song from clairo's album charm (2024).

sexy to someone 1 2

part i

second nature

echo

pier 4

slow dance

part ii

nomad

add up my love

thank you

part iii

juna

terrapin

after a couple requests here it is! i rlly hope u like it even tho its kind of different from what ive written before

[kaivenom]

How you meet the Descendants' boys HCS

Masterlist

Carlos de vil

You are the only one hacker in Auradon, so when you saw another person on lind doing your thing on the Auradon network, you decided to discover who that person was. After some digging on the internet and some observation on the real life, you discovered that your oponent was the son of Cruella d Vil.

You approached him on his way to the school and he seemed really happy that someone shares his hobby and can teach him something.

Jay

Your fathers were Yasmine and Aladdin and Ben had the incredible idea of introducing you to the VK because your parents were enemies. He tried to impress you but your father taught you how to deal with tricksters and that led to him having the personal goal of getting you flustered.

Chad Charming

You were a tansfered student from Arendell, emparented with Ana and Elsa, Audrey was your guide on Auradon. She presented you to Chad and well, you being a princess so beautifull with such an attitude (ice Kingdom=strong personality) made him get speechless and start to follow you like a puppy.

Ben Florian

Your father is the chesire cat so you can somehow travel between worlds and barriers so when Ben saw you with Island clothes on the lake he was captivated. You are not used to talking to people so you escaped with a smile. A couple of days later you came again and he was waiting for you with a basket full of food and invited you to talk.

Doug

You were Evie's sister, the black ship of your family because you were always really nice and good and couldn't hide it. So you were the first one to apologize to him about the team's behaviour and you always greeted him on the halls. That make him took the courage to ask you on a date.

Gil

His father knocked him out of the house for the night and he was wandering around the Island, you saw him and thru him a piece of bread. He was really hungry so he took it and then went to sit next to you. You didn't know why he did that but he was pretty funny and a little dumb so you didn't considered him a threat and let him sit.

Harry Hook

You are Scar's daughter (hibrid or witch human-lion) and you were on Lady Tremain's hairdress store, this was now your territory. Harry entered the place to recolect the money of the month and when you confronted him about the new situation and took the money away from him, he proposed to himself to take on your nerves everytime he could.

[simply-mei]

“James hook is my man”

“morgie is my man”

your man WANTS a man 💀

[floatyflowers]

Please pleaseee more Yandere male Cinderella!!!!

You are from a wealthy noble family, whose family are friends with the Tremaines.

When you saw Elliot's (Male Cinderella/Ella) condition, you felt sympathy at how the Tremaines treats him.

He's soft-spoken and charming at first, after he accept your kind acts, mistaking it for romantic gestures.

"This gift is for me?...but I don't deserve such kindness!"

And he may have a fragile sense of self-worth, making his need for your approval obsessive.

Cinderella's cruel stepfamily could serve as an advantage, showing why he clings to you so desperately.

Or perhaps one of the step siblings develops feelings for you, igniting Cinderellon's jealousy.

But what really sets him off is when you say that you will go to the ball held by the king to have his son, the prince, choose a wife.

Elliot is determined to attend the royal ball to capture your attention, even though his charming intention hides an intense possessiveness, as he vows to not let anyone else dance with you.

When his step siblings destroy his outfit for the ball, he decides to kill them by poisoning their food...and the food of his step mother.

Then a fairy appeared after he buried their bodies in his backyard.

Well, he was going to kill them anyway, so he can have his home and status back.

Elliot believes that providing you with the best life style is what you deserve.

The fairy godmother granted him his wish to go to the ball in the best clothes and carriage.

He also asked for a little something from her, a magical necklace that would enchant you in falling for him.

When he arrives to the ball, everyone was entranced by him, but you were already too focused, dancing with the prince.

He walks over to you both with a gentle smile, before offering his hand to you.

"If you allow me, my prince, I would like to steal my fiancee for a dance."

The prince was shocked as you were, but the prince agreed despite wanting to spend more time with you.

"Elliot...you look different tonight, and those shoes are beautiful."

"I want you to see me in my best as you saw in my worst."

Through the dance, Elliot leans and places his lips against yours, confessing his love.

And you also confessed yours.

Resulting in a happily ever after with him.

Or is it a happily ever after? I mean prince charming seems to also want you.

[miedei]

heyoo🫶 idk if your spencer requests are still open but all I've been able to think about for weeks is s4ep9 spencer being the most adorable nerd when he was warning the women at the club about the serial and them being the reader's friends going back to the reader with like drinks or whatever laughing about "that nerdy loser" at which reader's practically frothing at the mouth asking them "WHERE" and then hardcore flirting with an oblivious (and/or blushing mess) spence to the team's amusement and reader just thinking "need me a pathetic loser like that" (affectionate). im not even sure this makes sense but i just go feral for nerd reid. im really looking forward to reading this and thank you in advance if you do write this🥰

REAL REAL REAL need me a pathetic loser boy

peacocking

spencer gets hit on at the club!!

cw: none i think?? spence is cute and pathetic, r is the kind of flirty i only aspire to be

wc: 1.2k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

The club is busy, lighting dim, the music so loud that you can feel the bass thumping in your chest. It's a stark difference from the brightly-lit bathroom you just emerged from, wearing three new products of makeup courtesy of the drunken friends you've just made.

The crowd is thick, and you can just barely spot your friends, huddled around a hard-won table. You push through people, not bothering to apologise, until you've returned to the group.

You're greeted with whoops and cheers, and a drink is pushed into your hand before you can even sit down. Alcohol-fueled shouts leave their mouths, and you get the distinct feeling that they've somehow had at least two more rounds in the time you've been gone. You can barely focus on one person's speech, the words overlapping in their excitement.

"-and he was, like, the hottest guy I've ever seen!"

"-but he wouldn't take my number because he was working, and-"

"-his friend was pretty awkward though-"

"-like a string bean! Nerdy as hell, think it was his first time in a club-"

"-was like he'd never spoken to a woman before, kept talking about the serial killer-"

You hold up a hand, a little bewildered at the bombardment of information.

"Hold on- serial killer?" One of your friends shakes her head a little, as if clearing her mind.

"Not here, at least they pretty sure. Some creep's been picking up women and killing them at clubs, so there were cops or something here giving out fliers." A flier is thrusted into your hand, a sketch of a guy looking up at you.

"And, one of the cop guys was gorgeous! Adonis, Casanova, whatever the fuck you'd call him, he was so pretty..." She sighs wistfully, pointing across the room to a gaggle of women surrounding a well-built guy holding fliers like the one in your hand.

"The other guy was a little sad, though. Real nerd type."

Another voice butts in. "Yeah! I mean, look at him, I feel a little bad for him, he's clearly striking out and he's here for his job."

The pointing finger shifts, and your attention is directed to a lanky guy standing towards the edges of the crowd, near the bar. He looks nervous, hands fiddling with the stack of fliers he's got, and he doesn't seem to be trying to approach anyone anymore.

He's clearly uncomfortable, skittish in his stance. A nerd to his core, probably never the type to be wading through a crowd like this. He looks a little pathetic.

You've got to have him.

You tell your friends as much, and are met with drunken encouragement, slaps on the back and reminders to use protection. Setting down the flyer and your drink, you steel yourself, smoothing back your hair before walking with purpose across the room.

Once you near him, you slide onto a barstool, flagging down the bartender and pretending not to notice the new love of your life. He's clearly clocked you, and seems to be trying to work up the courage to approach you. Once you've given your order, you decide to make it easier for him.

Turning on the stool, you look up at him, eyes slightly hooded.

"You not having fun? It's a club, you should probably unbutton that shirt a little." It's thrilling, the way his eyes widen and he looks around him, as if you could be speaking to anyone else right now.

"Well, I actually- I'm actually here for my work, so..." His cheeks flush, and you continue with the oblivious act.

"Work? I've got to say, you're gorgeous, but I didn't think you were the type to be hired as a waiter here." You gesture to the scantily-clad waitress that passes you. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, before seemingly remembering something. He rifles through his leather bag, producing a wallet with ID.

"Um, no, I don't work here. I'm- I'm an FBI agent. Doctor Spencer Reid. H-hi." Cute and smart? It's a wonder you haven't slid right off your stool.

"Yeah? And what are you doing here, Doctor Reid? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate being able to ogle you, but this doesn't exactly seem like the place for the FBI to be doing their investigating." You nod your thanks at the bartender, and run your finger along the rim of your glass, eyes locked onto Spencer's.

"Oh! Yeah," He fumbles with the papers in his hand, before holding one out to you. "There's a, um, serial killer? He's in the area, and he's targeting women at clubs like these... so," You lean forward, eyes not wavering from his, relishing in the way Spencer's eyes widen at the motion.

"So?" You prompt.

"So, uh, we're handing out those sketches," His hand, trembling slightly, comes up to point at the flyer in your hand. "and warning women to be on the lookout, not go home with anyone they don't know."

Your lips pinch slightly together, exaggerating your concern. "Oh god, Doctor Reid, that's really scary. What can I do to keep safe?"

His shoulders drop from where they were tensed near his ear, seemingly in his comfort zone here.

"Well, the unsub- the suspect is seeking validation from people, he wants women to chase him. If you meet any guys who try and play hard to get, possibly dressed flaboyantly, stay away and tell the police." You tilt your head questioningly, prompting him to continue.

"He's peacocking. It's a method that some people use to draw attention away from their faces. By using some ornate and distracting piece of clothing, he's diverting attention away from his face." His hands fly around him wildly as he speaks, long fingers wriggling and punctuating his words.

"Uh huh? So this... sweater." Your hand comes up, nearly unconsiously, to fiddle with the woolen texture of the sweater he's got on over his shirt. His hands still midair.

"It's distracting me plenty. Is that peacocking? But I've gotta say, I don't think anything would draw my attention away from that face." His eyes widen further, lips quivering as if he's struggling to come up with words.

"Um, I- I don't think, this isn't- isn't peacocking. This is just... how I dress." Your smirk widens further, hand still twisted in the collar of his sweater. The other agent, the one your friends pointed out earlier, sidles up behind him, but pauses, observing your conversation without butting in. You've only got a little time left.

"Well, I guess you're just that captivating then. You got a pen?" You let go of his clothes, watching him flounder for a second before pulling a pen out of his pocket, holding it out to you wordlessly.

Taking it with a smile, you begin to scribble your number down on the corner of the flyer in your hand.

"I think I'm missing out, if you dress like this every day." You finish writing with a flourish, tearing out your number and tucking it in his pocket along with his pen.

"Call me, okay? Keep me safe from the killer." You pat his shoulder, brushing past him with a smile.

(If the music were any quieter, you would've heard Spencer being interrogated by Derek the moment you leave, and the subsequent call to the rest of the team to inform them of the news. Penelope falls off her chair in excitement.)

[princessdreamss]

me at my literal job checking the tags every 5 seconds to see if anyone posted new in-ho x reader

[jjslaybank]

so good - drew starkey

inspired by this video

warnings: this shit is pure filth and not proofread. i'm just a girl 😩

also OMG HAPPY BDAY DREW <333

"yeah, baby, get your ass through that door." he commands as he pushes you through the entrance of your shared apartment. his firm hand makes contact with your ass, the slapping sound of flesh on flesh ringing through your ears.

you whimper, the skin stinging from the force as drew shuts the door behind him. his hands begin to fumble with his top, unbuttoning his shirt with haste.

"mm, need you, drew," you whine, dropping to your knees in front of him.

his eyes widen in amusement. "my girl's so eager for me, hm? eager for her daddy's cock, yeah?"

your brain goes dumb at the condescending tone of his voice as he speaks crudely, your pussy dripping wet and soaking through the thin material of your panties. drew helps you undress till you're fully naked in front of him.

"cock, daddy..." you mewl.

"not yet, love. you have to earn it."

"how?"

"by wrapping your pretty lips 'round my fingers, 'kay?"

you nod dumbly, your lips parting to accommodate his digits. drew pushes two fingers into your mouth, groaning at the feel of your warm, wet mouth.

"suck it good, baby. like how you'd suck my cock."

you begin to suck his fingers with gusto, your thighs squeezing tight to help relieve the ache between your legs. drew's cock hardens at the sight and he suddenly pulls them out of your mouth. the force knocks you forward, your body falling flat on the floor.

drew straddles your body, grabbing you by the ribcage and fixing your position on the floor. he quickly undos his pants and pulls down his boxers, hissing as his rock hard cock bounces against his stomach.

"bet you're so fucking wet that i don't have to prep that tight cunt, huh?"

you stay silent, your brain hazy with lust.

"answer me, slut." he punctuates this with another slap to your ass.

"mhm! y-yes, drew... so wet for you..."

"good girl," he breathes, spitting onto his cock for lubrication before lining up with your entrance.

as he pushes in, a delighted moan slips past your lips. drew chuckles.

"you just need cock, hm? it's all you need in life. ain't that right? fuck, you're so damn tight, baby..."

he rocks his hips into you slowly, letting out a moan of his own as he feels your snug walls wrap around his big cock.

"fuck!" you cry out, trying to lift your head to meet his gaze.

"i gotcha," drew says, grabbing onto your ribcage as he lifts you up into the air with his cock still buried inside you.

he carries you to the sofa and sets you down gently before continuing to fuck you missionary. he picks up the pace - the lewd sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the empty room punctuated occasionally by moans and gasps of pleasure.

"oh, fuck, you're taking me so well," drew nearly growls, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

you wrap your legs around him and his cock fills you fully, hitting that spot inside you that makes you cry out in pleasure. hearing this, drew begins to pound you even quicker.

"yeah, baby? fucking love this, don't you? fucking hell, your pretty pussy is milking me."

he slips out of you and flips you onto your stomach before reentering you, his hips snapping into you at a frantic pace.

"you're so good to me, baby..." he compliments, sighing in pleasure. "i'm gonna cum soon. cum with me, okay? wanna feel that pretty cunt flutter 'round daddy's fat cock."

you whine at his words, going dumb as drew rubs your clit furiously to help bring you over the edge.

drew groans, feeling his release approaching quickly.

"shit, drew, 'm close!" you announce, reaching back to grab onto his arm for support. it flexes under your touch.

then, it happens.

"fuck!" drew cries out, burying his cock deep into you as his balls empty inside you. you cum at the same time, your walls pulsing around him, milking him for all he's worth.

after a few moments, he slips out of you. a small chuckle leaves his lips as he bends down to kiss your lips.

"hey, baby."

"hi." you smile back at him.

"you did so well for me," he praises, grabbing a cloth to clean you up. "too rough this time, or just right?"

"you could go harder," you suggest with a smirk.

"oh really now?" his eyebrows raise in amusement.

"i can take it harder, i'm a big girl."

he crouches down and traps you between his arms.

"guess we'll have to see about that," he says before kissing you again, his cock stirring back to life.

©️ jjslaybank, 2024.

[teddybeartoji]

bakugou hates it when you don't take good care of yourself. no matter whether he's your friend or a lover, doesn't matter if he's just your roommate, he can't stand it at all. it pisses him the fuck off.

he sees way more than he lets on, making it impossible for you to hide; when you brush past a question about whether you've eaten or not, he'll clock it immediately and when the bags under your eyes grow darker, he'll see that too. he notices the stupid things you think nobody would and it's weird to feel so seen by him.

he'll check the fridge and take note of the food that's still there, but he won't say anything – without asking whether you want it or whether you need it, he'll make you something on his own. he knows what you like and he knows what you don't like, he knows exactly what'll make your eyebrows raise up in surprise and what'll make your nose scrunch up in disgust. he'll prepare the meal and he'll give it to you with a huff.

sometimes he'll just let you eat in your own room but sometimes he'll try to lure you into the living room with him. and it's not even about him making sure that you'll finish it or anything, he just wants to eat with you. he's trying to be as gentle as he can because he realizes that a lecture would only make the matters worse; so, he'll simply put on a film he knows you'll like and he'll take his seat on the couch while waiting for you to join him. no pressure, no harsh words.

there are times where he'll be a bit more straightforward, though.

if he catches you ignoring some of his questions, about you drinking water etcetc, the likelyhood of him calling you out on it is high. he doesn't have time for that – he'll interrupt whatever you were rambling about and he'll demand an answer. silence will do, if that's all you have for him. he won't even give you a reaction, he'll just urge you to continue on with your talk while getting you a glass of water.

he gets straight to the point and there's really no point in trying to fight him.

you not dressing correctly is also something he'll immediately reprimand you for because where the hell are you going like that? no scarf on a windy day? he'll click his tongue and throw you his. no gloves during winter? he'll come back the next the with a completely new pair that he'd gotten for you. at the time, he might even chuck a pillow at you and tell you all about how he won't take care of you if you were to get sick.

and you'll laugh because you know he's lying, and he'll tut and avert his gaze.

because he knows he's lying.

oh, and he will nag about your messy room.

while cleaning it.

at first you think he's just there to mock you but then he's actually dusting your shelves and folding your clothes and taking away your dirty dishes and when you finally pull yourself together to tell him to stop, he gives you a glare that would seem harsh to a stranger, but you know better.

just let me do it.

if you try to thank him for it, he'll pretend like it never happened. like you don't have anything to thank him for, even less apologize for, because well... in his mind, you don't.

he isn't mad at you, he's just mad at the situation. this isn't laziness and he knows it, and so, he'll do his best to make it better, to make it easier for you. he'll make you something to eat and he'll clean your room and he'll bark at you for dressing too lightly and he'll let you fall asleep on his shoulder without a complaint because this is his way of letting you know that he cares for you.