#tysm🥺

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

I'm Speechless...Ty Ty Ty Sean!!! 🥺You're an actual angel 😍 💕💕💕💕

[zestyaahbutler]

🫡 thank u willow for reading my chapter 2

[berrys-hide-out]

BERRYYYY CHAAN HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

THANK YOUU

[schumigrace]

<33 sorry your day is off to a tough start, but don't forget to be kind to yourself and drink lots of water !!! <3333

JD!!!! ily I hope u have a good day today <333

[gotchibam]

Lunala and Pikachu ko-fi doodle for Bunnygirl678!

[jayparked]

88 + jake 👀 ??

also luv ur writing sm!!

"ugh, jake. what are you doing?" you groan annoyedly, pawing at your boyfriend's locks to try to push his lips back to your clit. he keeps wandering off to the side, kitten licking at your puffy lips instead of focusing where you really need him.

"hm? am i doing something wrong? tell me what to do, baby." normally, in any other situation, you'd feel a pang of guilt for making him doubt his abilities. but the smirk on his face while he slowly sticks out his tongue and continues to lap and suck in the wrong areas has you feeling more annoyed than ever.

"are you doing this on purpose?"

"doing what, sweetheart?"

"pretending like you don't know what you're doing."

nuzzling against your thigh, jake sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he caresses your skin. "maybe i just need you to guide me."

the frustration of not getting to your high mixed with intense impatience is making your brain dizzy in all the wrong ways. you sit up and grab jake's chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

"i know that you know how to eat pussy. especially my pussy. if you don't stop playing around i'll go and find someone else to do it. and you can watch and learn because i'm tired of having to explain this to you every single time you try to eat me out." your words are harsh and more so filled with empty frustrated promises. but the image of a whimpering jake while he watches someone else do what he can't is somewhat exhilarating.

pouting out a huff, jake's pleading eyes turn wicked, half lidding as he bites the corner of his bottom lip.

"why are you looking at me like that?"

"fuck, you're so hot when you're bossy. say more things." jake moves his head out of your grasp and is hovering over your heat again, the warmth of his breath fluttering around your ignored clit.

"go on," he encourages, holding your eye contact, "tell me what you want me to do. do you want me to do this?" his lips wrap around your clit, finally sucking and pulling against the flesh as his tongue swirls around it. you lean your head back and groan, feeling your body weep with how happy the contact feels. your hands are gripping his curly black hair again, desperate to keep him in place. but one taste is all he gets. jake pulls himself back, tapping at your thigh with a 'hmm?'

"you cannot be serious right now, jake," you groan, hands falling defeatedly at your sides.

"i told you to go on." there's a bite in his tone, one that sends chills down your spine. it's one that doesn't come out often and it finally clicks that you've fallen right into his trap.

eyes blinking slowly, you finally muster out, "you're playing with me," you state completely dumbfounded.

"no shit, sherlock," he huffs, brows furrowed, "now, please, humor me and take all your anger out on me while you tell me what a bad muncher i am. if you do it good enough i'll show you just how bad i can be."

your cheeks start to burn, your lips pulling inward as you rub your thighs against his shoulders. jake's nuzzling his cheek against your thigh again, eyes pleading at you once more while he waits oh so patiently.

sulking from your stalling, jake juts his bottom lip out, exhaling sharply so that his breath clings to your wetness. "can't believe my baby actually thinks i don't know her body like the back of my hand. took you too long to realize i'm doing this on purpose. have i fucked you dumb too much? do you need me to pound into you again to knock some sense back into that pretty brain of yours?"

finally finding your voice, and your courage, you take your hands and grab his face, shoving him completely down onto your aching cunt. "you fucking talk too much," you continue to guide his head across your slickness, sighing as you feel his tongue poke out to slurp at your arousal, "flick your tongue against my clit a few times before sucking on it- yes! just like that jake oh my god!"

jake is holding your hips down tightly as he deeps himself into your heat, full on making out with your clit in a rushed and hungry manner.

"fucking finally," he growls. "and, by the way, i am the only one who can eat you out like this and i'm not sharing what's mine." he pulls your clit between his teeth, only letting go once you're gasping in surprise. "hope you're comfortable, sweetheart, we're gonna be here for a while."

part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[figloom]

Lil Welcome back gift Because I noticed something Hehe 🤲💕

THEY ARE HOUSE RIBBON BUDDIES YOUR HONOR😭😭 god your artstyle is so fucking cute ai, I exploded when I saw that

[felassan]

( ˶°ㅁ°) !! This blog was shouted out in this video by Kala Elizabeth, "Dragon Age Veilguard: COMPLETE BREAKDOWN - Character Creator, Combat, Gameplay, & MORE!".

"Thankfully I went over to Felassan's Tumblr and was able to find everything that I missed. If you're interested in news and seeing everything about Dragon Age and Mass Effect, Felassan's Tumblr is an amazing archive of information." [link]

[terezicaptor]

these guys are so comfortable....... so sleepy.....

[sugarcandydoll]

here's how i imagine myself as deer!reader based on @princessbrunette 's fics hehe ♡🦌💕 feel like deer!reader would sew her own clothes sometimes hehehe! ♡🏹 n it'll always turn out sooo cute considering she just collected snippets of cloth n lace etc etc n sewed it into smth so cute!!

pics not mine ♡ n deer!reader belongs to @princessbrunette ♡🧸 n header by @dollywons ♡🧁

[guy-girlfriend]

my art? little old me's art? wow...

sometimes you gotta stare at @guy-girlfriend’s melshian art for a long time it’s energizing like caffeine

[brambeag]

i managed to pop out the three white haired guys at least☝️🤓!

[mobius-m-mobius]

Hey! Change of subject. I thought of an answer. To what? Your question.

Lokius + reflection for anon

[willowser]

now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to. 

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress. 

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought. 

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek. 

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon. 

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his  heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

[lotus-pear]

TWELVE KAY LETS FUCKING GO we are back to an even number i’m so glad ‼️‼️‼️‼️

[jayparked]

heyyy snail, congratulations on 1k you deserve it bub! i’d like to request 26+32 for Jungwon (keep up the wonderful work ilyyyy 🎀)

it's no secret that the parties your friends host can get a little bit...wild. not in the sense of destruction, cop cars, and illegal activity. no, instead it's a whirlwind of intense party games, everyone always giving it their all.

and tonight is no different.

everyone is decently drunk but sober enough to not be slurry messes. it's amazing the party fouls remains in the single digits so far. but the night is still young.

the party game of the night is having everyone sit in a circle, drinks readily available to chug if you answer yes to any question that is directed at you. if you choose to answer the question instead, the person who originally asked you has to chug not only their own drink, but yours as well. there's no official name for it but you've been jokingly calling the game 'wheel of misfortune'.

"okay...y/n...your turn," smirks your best friend who's sitting opposite of you in the group circle, "when you're getting yourself off do you picture anyone in this group when you do so?"

she's evil. absolutely evil. of course she knows the answer to that question and it takes everything in you to remain calm and sneak in a deep breath. you try to communicate to her with your eyes, widening them slightly, but she just smirks and glances to her left at a certain boy you've been desperately trying to not think about.

you look down at the concoction sitting in your cup. after chugging this you'll be absolutely tipsy, dangering the drunken state zone. you bring the cup up to your lips but stop at the array of boo's from all your friends.

"all you ever do is drink, y/n."

"yeah, why not answer one for once?"

you allow yourself a glance at the boy with curly brown hair, those brown eyes sparkling at you as he chuckles, deep dimples presenting themselves to you. his cheeks are flushed pink from the alcohol and he shakes his head with a smile, hair falling into his eyes as he tries to fix them effortlessly to no avail.

"jungwon," you say as casually as you can fake, sipping on your drink anyways.

"hmm?" the boy replies, glancing over at you. when your only response is a coy eyebrow raise, his smile fades and his eyes darken. jungwon bites his bottom lip, eyebrows raising up at you again as he tilts his head slightly.

"oh shit!" someone cheers.

"i can't believe she actually said it!"

you and jungwon are lost in an unbreakable staring contest; you're desperately trying to figure out what he's thinking but you can't read him at all.

you catch your best friend chugging her drink quickly before crawling over to you and snagging your cup out of your hands, quickly downing it with a proud sparkle in her eyes.

"i think we should have jungwon and y/n have a lil seven minutes in heaven fun. what do you guys think?" the response is a loud array of hooting and hollering, everyone gather to push you and jungwon towards the other room.

it isn't until the door closes and you turn to face jungwon, nearly chest to chest that it finally hits you what you've said.

"jungwon i- i'm so sorry i don't know why i-"

“so…you touch yourself to the thought of me? i’d like to see that.”  

he closes the gap between you two, backing your body against the door and placing his knee between your legs, his gaze never breaking from your own.

"or you can show me some other time and we can just have a little fun in the meantime." his voice has dropped to a register you haven't heard from him before. your legs feel wobbly and you can't for the life of you look away from his plump lips.

you nod your head frantically, eyes half shut while you raise a cautious hand up to his shoulder.

"do you want me to kiss you?" jungwon chuckles, moving his face close enough that you feel his lips ghosting over your own.

you nod your head again, afraid that if you open your mouth words will be replaced by obscene whines.

“I wanna hear you beg for it" his lips brush against yours in a light, feathery way as he speaks and you feel dizzy.

"please," you gasp, "please kiss me-."

that was all jungwon needed, pressing his lips against yours before you can even finish your sentence.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist