#w : shadow-ab

[idontmindifuforgetme]

So inspired by girls as little as three years older than me bc the self-assuredness and elegance to even the way they walk is crazy

[oh-no-its-bird]

Hatake Ichigo being forced into the academy would be honestly hilarious. “no NO LET GO OFME FUCK OFF IM NOT GOING TO SCHOOL FUCK YOU FUCK YOUR FAMILY FUCK YOUR ANCESTORS FUCK YOUR COW” and all that. getting dragged by her feet into the classroom because she bit the first person that tried to carry her.

I'm in fucking tears actually, SO accurate.

She is going to set the entire classroom on fire to try to prove a point. She's going to frame several students for theft of other students belongings to try to start a war. She's going to go to the younger, impressionable classes and "inspire" them to "rebel against their homework" via ganging up on and tying up their teacher and locking them in a closet as they trash the classroom. She doesn't wanna be here let her out let her out leT HER OUT LET HER OUT LET HER OUT LET HER OUT (the school doesn't fucking want her either holy shit)

Shes on the floor throwing an actual tantrum like the 11 year old brat she is, high pitched shrieks and all. If you try to touch her she bites to draw blood

In her original timeline she probably never went, the academy being established around when she was entering the field as a shinobi herself (at like 14ish maybe) and it's first class being a very select group of clan kids (aka the only kids they could manage to convince the parents of to join, bc even then the clans were dead set on home schooling their kids, and itd take a while more to convince everyone to make the school the norm)

It's for the best shed never go originally tho, she did/does NOT get along with almost any kids her age. Any classroom with her in it would go to SHIT, she's the trouble maker and the teacher is this 👌 close to actually attempting to harm her

(it's only bc she and the hyuuga heir are so young that they haven't started an actual blood feud w all their fighting, but they are not allowed to be around eachother without supervision for a reason. Them being in the same class would be,,, bad. Very, very bad.)

[carry-on-my-wayward-gays]

Tumblr thank you guys for being fucking Normal about Scott Smajor jesus christ

[m3nyas]

twitter artists on a competition to be the most feminist women objectifier

[ironmanstan]

Ill forever be mad ab the pink diamond reveal tho btw

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.

(wordcount: 4.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia member!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, public sex, spitting, unprotected sex, gagging dazai w/your panties, switch!dazai, switch!reader. lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOOWWWWWWW u all can thank tumblr user mioblobby for this one, she sent in an ask 3 days ago and this consumed me so badly that i dropped all of my wips to write this. anyway, enjoy dazai & pmreader being absolute FREAKS in public

His gaze hasn’t left you once all night. You can feel it dark and heavy from where he’s leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room, black coat hanging around his shoulders and a cold, unapproachable expression on his face, looking every bit the wraith people claim him to be. 

Chuuya is off somewhere to your side, smooth talking two of Mishima’s daughters, surely planning to end the night in one of their beds to get those loose lips moving about the meeting that their father had with Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber two weeks ago, something he’s been unnervingly tight lipped about when Mori pried. 

You’re entertaining two of the younger members of Mishima’s upper echelon, Abe Kimifusa and Ibuse Masuji—they can’t be much older than you, early twenties max, and they’re delighted by the attention you’re giving them. Ibuse is half hanging off your shoulders, arm wrapped around you, too many drinks in as he leans in close and laughs at some comment Abe makes about one of their fellow executives. You smile idly as you listen, resting against him as you take in their words, trying to pretend to be engaged with the conversation to not give away how you’re hyper-focused on a certain black-haired executive in the distance. 

Usually, he would join you and Chuuya in your attempts to gather some easy intel on the Sun and Steel—that’s what he’s done the past year and a half, at least, targeting some of the older members of Mishima’s upper echelon who would sell half of their organs and their soul for a night with the untouchable Demon Prodigy. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now, knowing what he told you, but you still can’t help but be a little surprised that he’s not even trying to put up a facade of charm and wit, rather spending his time skulking in the shadows watching you, especially when his usual targets are so blatantly staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.

You think it’s hypocritical the way you’re so pleased over the fact that he’s not entertaining anyone tonight, because the thought of him letting any of those men drape themselves all over him like Ibuse currently is with you leaves a very sour taste in your mouth.

You also think that’s why you’re letting Ibuse take it as far as he has—to see Dazai get wound up about it. You don’t typically let people get touchy with you unless you plan on taking them to bed, and you have absolutely no intention of fucking Ibuse Masuji. He’s pretty enough with dark hair and a nice smile, but too stupid for your taste—maybe that’s a good thing though, if he’s already so loose-lipped now with only a few drinks in him, you can’t imagine how much he’d let slip in a post-orgasm induced haze.

You start to reconsider your decision on Ibuse, looking up at him contemplatively as he makes a snide comment about Kamatsu Sakyo—an older executive of the Sun and Steel, one of the ones you know have spent a night, or more, with Dazai, so your smile is a bit more genuine when you hear the way Ibuse drags him for being incompetent and useless.

“The older generation has to go,” Ibuse hisses, shaking his head as his arm tightens around you, leaning back against the wall. “They’re running us into the fucking ground. That fucker Kamatsu wants us to take that deal from the Red Chamber-”

“Masuji,” Abe warns, giving you a careful look, not as drunk as his companion. You raise your eyebrows at the comment from Ibuse, looking at him questioningly.

Ibuse waves off Abe haphazardly. “The Port Mafia did it right,” he says bluntly, taking another sip of his drink. “Wiped out the whole old regime after the previous boss died. That’s what the Boss should’ve done when he took over from his father. All of these old fucks need to drop dead.”

“The meeting with Xueqin went that poorly?” you ask casually, sure to keep the interest out of your tone as you look up at Ibuse.

“Don’t even get me started,” Ibuse scoffs. “That fucker wants-”

You’re careful to keep the irritation off your face when you hear the telltale sound of Mishima preparing to give his annual ‘thank you, fruitful alliances ahead!’ speech that always bores you to tears. Next to you, Ibuse sighs and pulls his arm off of you, pushing off the wall.

“We’ve gotta go up there with him. I’ll find you later?” he asks you, eyes a bit too hopeful, voice eager as he waits for your response.

“Definitely,” you say—the things you do for information.

With most of the attendees of the ball distracted by Mishima’s speech, you slip away to make your way over to the far corner where Dazai is waiting. Still, he tracks you—from the moment you make your subtle escape from the crowd until you’re standing right in front of him in the shadows where he’s lingering, his gaze remains trained on you, intense in a way that lets you know that he’s unhappy, if the way his jaw is tight didn’t.

“You’ve been having fun tonight,” he drawls, voice low as he looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.

“Is that what it seemed like?” you say lightly, taking a step closer, casting one last glance behind you to ensure that all eyes are pinned on Mishima before hooking your fingers into his belt loops to tug him closer to you. “At least I’m doing my job properly then.”

“It’s your job to let Mishima’s whore of an executive drape himself all over you?” Dazai tilts his head to the side, one hand sliding behind you to close the small distance between the two of you, leaving your chest pressed to his.

No, you let that drag on just because you could tell how irate Dazai was becoming over it, but Dazai doesn’t have to know that. So instead, you play coy.

“I have appearances to keep up,” you say, tilting your head up with a simpering smile, enjoying the way his gaze immediately darts down to your lips, lingering there before he has to forcibly drag it back up to your eyes. “You know that.”

“Yeah?” Dazai hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze drifts above you. “Maybe I should be making more of an effort with appearances then, Kamatsu has had his eye on me all night.”

Your eye doesn’t twitch at his words, but your grip on his belt loops tightens. “You don’t want to play that game with me, Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice deceptively mild.

“And why is that?” Dazai drawls, looking too smug for your liking as he looks down at you as if realizing how much his threat bothered you.

“Because I’ll win,” you say easily, fingers slipping from his belt loops to slide your hands up and down his sides before settling them on his slim hips, relishing in the way his lashes flutter at your touch. “You know that. It’s unlike you to pick losing battles.”

“I won’t lose,” Dazai says with a scoff, and you walk him backward until the back of his knees hit a chair, guiding him back to sit down in it as Mishima finally starts a long-winded speech that’s going to last at least twenty or thirty minutes.

You give Dazai another teasing smile as you stand in front of where he’s sitting, lifting your hand to his chin, tilting his face up toward you. You lean down, lips brushing his as you murmur, “You already have.”

“Have I?” Dazai asks, amused. He unconsciously leans forward to capture his lips with yours but you shift just out of reach before he can, raising your eyebrows pointedly at the annoyed look he gives you.

You make quick work of undoing his tie, slipping it from his neck before wrapping it loosely around your wrist, hyper aware of the way his gaze is trained sharply on your face, studying your every move. You bring your other hand back up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, and your breath catches as he leans into your touch, eye lidded as he looks up atwith you. He tilts his head to the side to press his lips against your palm, keeping eye contact as he lifts his hand to cover yours, shifting it so he can graze his lips against the pulse point on your wrist.

“You have,” you agree, grateful that your voice isn’t as breathless as you feel from the combined intensity of his gaze and his lips on your skin.

“How so?” Dazai looks entirely too smug, probably can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, and you itch to wipe the smugness right off of his face.

“I’m meeting Ibuse after this speech,” you tell him, now entirely too smug yourself as Dazai expression drops and goes icy, fingers stiffening from where his hand is still pressed over yours. “Need to get him to spill about the meeting with the Red Chamber, he already started getting into it before. If I get him alone, we’ll know everything we need.”

“Go ahead,” Dazai sounds deceptively calm, you’d almost believe he didn’t care if the look in his eye didn’t betray him, cold and promising bloodshed. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll start a war,” you say absently, the tips of your fingers brushing through his dark hair.

“I don’t care,” Dazai replies, and you know that he’s serious—it should worry you, he could throw all of your work with the Sun and Steel out the window in a split second, but instead you only find yourself giddy, tongue pressing behind your teeth and a smile curving at your lips as you look down at him.

“Careful, Dazai,” you breathe out, “almost sounds like you care.”

He does care, you know that and he knows that, but he refuses to admit it out loud. Refuses to put a label on anything between the two of you. You think it’s his way of maintaining some semblance of control over things; he thinks that if he actually admits what’s going on between the two of you, it’ll be a loss of control over himself that he can’t afford. 

As if threatening to start a gang war with the Mafia’s most important ally because you’re planning to sleep with someone for vital information isn’t a loss of control in itself. 

You also think it might have to do with the broken gasps he’d let out over the phone during the assassination plot on you a few weeks ago, when he thought that he’d miscalculated and they called his bluff, that they were going to get to you and no one was going to be able to get there in time to protect you. 

“Everything I never want to lose is always lost the moment I obtain it.”

You wonder, maybe, if he thinks that not making things official with you is his way of protecting both you and himself. 

But it’s fucking frustrating. It’s frustrating dealing with his hot and cold—days where he’s so clearly enamored with you, spending hours laid up with you admiring you while you do work, looking at you with eyes that should only be reserved for long time lovers, and then there are days where he can hardly bring himself to look at you, avoiding you at every given chance, cold and aloof. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhausting, you just want to be with him.

His eye darkens, jaw clicking at your words, but he doesn’t respond other than that.

You’re not sure what exactly compels you to take another step forward, you watch as his gaze tracks down to the low cut of your dress, as he shifts in his seat, legs spread, clearly withholding the urge to adjust himself in his pants. A dangerous thought crosses your mind, one that you know you should toss away because of where you are, how many people are just on the other side of the room, but you find your body moving before you can stop yourself.

You watch him inhale, gaze tracking down to where your hand has slipped into the high slit of your dress, casting one last look over your shoulder to make sure the two of you are at an angle that no one would be able to easily see you before pulling down your thin black panties—the ones you know he loves and wore just to see the way the pupil of his visible eye becomes blown wide at the sight of them, breath hitching.

You shift closer to him, balling them into your fist, one hand sliding behind the back of his head, fingers entwined with his dark hair as you tilt his head back, eyes tracing the exhilaration on his face as he looks up at you, realizing what you’re going to do, where you’re going to do it.

“You’re crazy,” he breathes out. The words are reverent, he speaks them in the same way you imagine he would tell you he loves you, it makes your breath catch. “Here? What're you gonna do if one of them looks over and sees you stuffed with my cock, hm? How're you gonna explain why you're full of cum when you go meet that clown?”

“You talk too much,” you note, stepping forward. “Open up.”

Dazai’s lips part instinctively, but before you stuff his mouth with your panties, you lean over him, fingers hooking around his bottom lip as you force his mouth a little wider, watching as his breath hitches and his lashes flutter when you spit right into his open mouth, swallowing it immediately. 

Your lips curl up as you lift the hand holding your panties, taking in an unsteady breath as he lets you push your panties between his lips; he lets out a muffled groan around them, eyes sliding shut as if savoring the taste of them. You shift your dress around slightly so you can comfortably straddle his thighs. His hands immediately fly to your waist, but you click your tongue lightly, pushing them off and sliding his tie around his wrists once you’ve got them behind his back.

He tilts his head to the side, giving you a heavy, judgmental look. He doesn’t even have to speak to know what he’s thinking: “You really think this is going to stop me?”

You give him a sweet smile, leaning in to graze your lips against his jaw, feeling the shaky breath he lets out around your panties. “If you free yourself from them,” you murmur, lips brushing his ear as you speak, “I’ll stop.”

You don’t wait for his reaction, directing your attention down toward his slacks, loosening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You ease his cock out of his briefs, weight heavy in your hand, tip flushed pink and leaky. You give it an experimental pump, using his own precum as lube, and watch as he tilts his head back, giving a full body shudder.

“You’re so easy to rile up,” you sigh softly, shifting forward so that his cock slides between your slick folds, you press your lips to the underside of his jaw to smother the moan you almost let out when his tip catches on your clit. “I love it.”

You know he’s trying to shoot you a withering look, but the effects of it are severely diminished with how his face is flushed pink and his eyes are unfocused. You give him another saccharine smile, and that’s the only warning he gets before you’re sinking down on his cock. 

You can feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you up until the tip of his cock is nudging right up against your cervix. It takes all of your self control to bite back the loud gasp that nearly rips from your lips, not wanting to have to bury your face in the crook of his neck just yet, watching as he lets out a choked noise that’s loud even with your panties stuffed in his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Careful,” you warn, leaning in to drag your lips up his neck to the corner of his lips. You lift one of your hands to hold the back of his head again, gripping his hair as you force him to look at you again, fingers tugging hard at his hair. His gaze is unfocused, lips parting as he heaves around your panties, throat spasming—he looks fucking divine, and for a moment, you regret doing this here because you might have to kill someone if they see him when he’s looking like this. “You don’t want them to see you like this, yeah?”

You can hear the whine that builds in the back of his throat, trying to rock his hips up into yours. The sloppy sound of his cock driving into your cunt is too loud—Mishima is still speaking loudly, drowning out any noise that could possibly be coming from your secluded corner, but it’s so risky, you almost don’t know what’s gotten into you. If anyone happens to wander over this way…

“God, what do you do to me?” you gasp, leaning in so you can graze your teeth against his neck, threatening to bite down. 

You’re never this reckless—not when it’s your reputation on the line, you’ve spent years honing it into the weapon it’s become, and here you are risking it all just because Dazai Osamu decided to give you bedroom eyes during one of the most important events the Port Mafia attends. Fuck, he drives you insane.

His head lolls forward, forehead resting against the side of yours, lips brushing your ear. You can feel his heavy pants, each one catching over a moan muffled by your panties. You rock your hips back and forth quickly, each drag of his cock against your walls making you hot and lightheaded. Whether it’s just from the sheer pleasure of it all—the way the tip of his cock pressees right into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the way he’s so quickly coming undone beneath you, body trembling and drool pooling at the corner of his lips around your panties—or if it’s because of the way anyone could wander over in this direction, catch you fucking Dazai so brazenly when there’s a crowd of one hundred and fifty, two hundred of the most important people in the Japanese underworld just on the far side of the room, you don’t know, but heat pools in your abdomen so quickly that it’s almost impossible to control. 

You can feel his breath ragged, his body tense, each roll of your hips against his has Dazai falling apart, and you can feel the telltale sign of his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he’s about to finish. You tug his hair, pulling his head back from where it's fallen against you, and you lift your other hand quickly up to his lips, pushing them inside of his mouth to hook your fingers around your panties, pulling them out of his mouth.

Instantly, Dazai is pushing himself forward to press his lips against yours, freeing himself of his own tie so his hands can fly to your waist. You let out a low moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue into yours, one hand sliding from your waist to your back, keeping your body flush to his as he grinds you down on his cock hard.

“Fuck,” Dazai groans into your mouth, voice choked. You can see the way he can hardly keep his gaze steady, the way he’s gripping your dress to try to keep himself grounded. “I-ah, shit-I’m close. I’m-”

You lean in to swallow his moan, kissing him hard as his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips stuttering as he spills his cum deep inside of you. Your breath catches at the feeling of his cum filling you up, warm, heavy, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling out from where his cock is still stuffed deep inside of you; it’s the last thing you need to push you over the edge, mind blank and jaw falling slack as your body shudders in his arms.

Black dots spot your vision, your nails dragging down his black coat, your whole body consumed with pleasure—it hits you so hard that you think maybe you might’ve passed out for a split second. The feeling of your release sends a shockwave through Dazai, you can feel the way his body spasms and jerks when your walls suddenly tighten around his sensitive cock.

“God,” Dazai breathes out against your lips, eyes glazed over as the two of you come down from your high, an expression so adoring on his face that you think for a moment, you might be imagining it. “You’re so…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, leaves it to your imagination, and you want to press, but you don’t have the chance because you’re slapped hard with reality when you hear Mishima’s speech coming to an end, eyes widening. Your legs are shaky as you push off of him, hissing at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your cunt—you almost snort when you see how Dazai twitches and winces at the sudden movement, still sensitive.

“Clean yourself up,” you tell him sharply, straightening your dress and fixing your hair, trying to catch sight of yourself in the reflection of a nearby glass, watching from the corner of your eye as Dazai stuffs himself back in his pants, wiping your cum off of his expensive black slacks before sucking it right off of his fingers. He grabs his tie from where he’d let it fall to the ground, and then your panties, winking at you before he stuffs them in the pocket of his jacket. 

His gaze lifts to you as he rises to his feet, drifting lazily over your form, lingering on the way your skin glows with a soft sheen of sweat, the loose strands of hair that cling to your forehead—something you hope you can play off considering the air condition in the ballroom isn’t on. Then his gaze settles down on the lower half of your body, lips curling up into a slow smirk.

He takes a few steps closer to you, holding his tie out to you. “Re-tie it?” he hums, and you roll your eyes because you know he can do it himself and you know he has some sort of ulterior motive right now, but you take it from him regardless.

You quickly slide the tie around his neck, trying to tie it quickly before anyone catches sight of the two of you, but with you so focused on getting this done, you miss the way his hand sneaks forward until you feel it slip into the slit of your dress. 

“Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice low, but your breath catches when you feel him gather up all of the cum that had dribbled out of your cunt, head falling against his shoulder as you try to force yourself not to react when he uses two fingers to stuff it right back inside of you.

You can feel the wicked grin against your ear as he leans down to tug your earlobe gently. “Good luck explaining this to Ibuse.”

Then he steps away, dark eye glittering dangerously as he looks down at you.

“I’ll find you later,” he says before turning to walk away.

You’re not sure if it’s a threat or a promise and you don’t have time to make a snide comment asking, because you hear Ibuse approaching you from behind, giddy and excited until he catches sight of Dazai’s infamous black coat retreating, swallowing thickly and eyes flickering nervously between the two of you—a common reaction to the executive’s presence, knowing how dangerous and unpredictable he can be.

You wonder if Dazai would make Ibuse half as nervous and uncomfortable if he’d known he just spent the last fifteen minutes with your panties stuffed in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back, whining and whimpering, muffling all of his sounds so people didn’t overhear the two of you. But you dismiss that thought—that’s knowledge for you to keep to yourself, you don’t like sharing.

“Let’s get out of here?” you hum, drawing him out of his thoughts before he can spiral.

He lights back up again, but you can tell he’s still nervous from Dazai’s brief appearance. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Two hours later, you wander out of one of the back rooms in Mishima’s mansion, intent on getting back to headquarters. You don’t get more than two feet before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you backward hard until your back meets a familiar chest.

Your heartbeat stills from the brief bout of erraticness when you felt someone grab you, relaxing back into Dazai, tilting your head back and to the side to look up at him as he holds your hips, keeping you flush to him.

“Did you fuck him?” Dazai asks, voice low and expression unreadable.

You have half a mind to say yes, just to see what Dazai plans to do if you did. He can’t kill Ibuse, not even he is reckless enough to start a war with the Sun and Steel right now, but you don’t think you want to risk it.

“Didn’t have to,” you say honestly. “He was babbling out everything I wanted to know before the doors even closed.”

Dazai searches your face for a moment as if trying to decide if you’re being truthful, when he does, one of his hands slips off your waist into his coat, and you hear the familiar sound of Dazai flipping the safety of his gun back on.

“Dazai,” you snap. “You can’t just-”

“I can do whatever I want,” Dazai interrupts you with the type of confidence that lets you know he had every intention of putting a bullet through Ibuse’s head if you fucked him, regardless of the consequences. The thought of that alone makes your blood run hot, pupils dilating as you look up at him; Dazai’s lips curve up slowly as if he knows just what’s going on in your head. He looks behind you curiously before focusing back down on you asking: “Is he passed out in there?”

“Mhm,” you agree, watching him curiously as you try to figure out what he might be thinking. “Drank too much.”

“Good,” Dazai murmurs, walking you right back into the room you’d come out of, a sharp smile on his face. He closes the door behind the two of you, gaze flickering over to where Ibuse is unconscious on the couch before he backs you up until your knees hit the corner of the bed, pushing you back onto it. “Let’s see if we can wake him up then.”

[doumadono]

Happy sinful Sunday y'all 💙❤️ I decided to try my luck with submitting a request. How about a reader riding Shoto's cock to help him get rid of the tension after a busy day?

Warnings: smut w/o plot, cowgirl, overstimulation, slow sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, pro hero!Shoto

A/N: this request got the second highest number of votes during the Sinful Sunday poll I held. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA & MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Your fingers trace the lines of his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your touch, the rhythm of his heartbeat against your palm. 

Shoto's dual-toned eyes, one a striking turquoise and the other a deep gray, watch you with a mix of hunger and tenderness. 

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow from a single lamp casting shadows that dance across his bare skin.

His breath hitches as your lips brush against his collarbone, leaving a trail of heat and moisture. 

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coil and uncoil beneath your touch, responding to every kiss, every caress. You shift slightly, feeling the warmth and hardness of his cock pressing against your naked inner thigh as you straddle him. Your own arousal pools between your legs, a liquid heat that makes you ache for him.

For days now, you've watched Shoto come home exhausted, burdened by the weight of his demanding shifts. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, had been clouded with stress and fatigue. Tonight, you decided to take matters into your own hands, to help him rid himself of the negativity and tension that had gathered within him.

Slowly, you rise up, positioning yourself above him. 

Shoto's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, his lips parting slightly. 

You can see the restraint in his expression, the effort it takes for him to remain still, to let you take control. With a slow, teasing motion, you change position a little so your pussy is hovering just above his throbbing cock. Gripping his cock with your hand, you line the tip of it with your pussy. Moving your hand up and down, you jerk him off nice and slow, mere millimeters from your entrance. The action turns both of you on as you can hear his breathing starting to become heavier and deeper, and the juices from your pussy start to flow out of you, covering both your hand and his cock. Finally, you lower yourself onto him, feeling the exquisite stretch as his cock fills you. The sensation is almost overwhelming.

Shoto's hands tighten on your hips, his breath coming in shallow pants. "God, you feel so good," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. 

You begin to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm that has both of you moaning in pleasure. The slide of his cock inside you is maddeningly perfect, hitting all the right spots. You lean forward, your breasts brushing against his chest, your lips finding his in a heated kiss. Building up more and more rhythm, moving faster and faster, you ride yourself up and down on Shoto’s cock.

His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve, every dip. Shoto's hands are a duality of their own, one side searing hot, the other icy cold. The juxtaposition of temperatures as he touches you, caressing your skin and sending shivers and warmth through your body, intensifies every sensation. 

"Shoto," you whisper against his lips, your voice trembling with need. "I need more."

He responds with a low growl, his hands guiding your hips faster. 

You put your hands down on his abs and started riding him faster, bouncing up and down his hardened shaft. 

The change in pace is intoxicating, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. You can feel his control slipping, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. 

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I want to feel you come on my dick.”

The words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. The intensity of it leaves you trembling, clinging to him as your hips still.

Shoto follows you over the edge, his grip on your hips tightening as he spills his thick, lukewarm seed inside you. 

The feeling of his release, the warmth of his cum filling you, is the final push that sends you spiraling into another orgasm, and you’re screaming his name, your body milking every last drop of his release from him.

You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. 

Shoto's arms wrap around you, holding you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. "You're amazing," he murmurs, his voice soft and tender now, the raw edge of desire replaced by a deep, abiding affection. "I love you."

"I love you too," you reply, your heart full to bursting. 

In this moment, with him, everything feels perfect. 

As you lay there, still entwined, you can't help but trace the contours of his handsome face with your fingers. 

His eyes flutter closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips. 

You smile, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. The exhaustion that had clung to him for days seems to have melted away, replaced by a serene calm.

You gently push yourself up, straddling him once more. 

Shoto's eyes open, a spark of curiosity and renewed desire flickering within them. “Babe…”

Yet you can feel his cock stir beneath you, still sensitive from your shared climax but ready for more. "I want to make sure all that tension is completely gone," you whisper, leaning down to kiss him deeply as the tip of his cock teases your wet folds. You swing a knee over Shoto, put a hand on his throbbing cock, and direct it toward your drenched pussy. After a moment, you impale yourself on his rock hard shaft,  and Shoto moans at the feeling of reentering your wetness. “I don’t give a shit about how overstimulated we still are.”

His hands find your hips again, and he groans so sweetly you feel butterflies in your stomach.

You begin to move once more, your pace slow and deliberate. You can feel every ridge, every vein, the way his cock stretches you just right. The friction is exquisite, each movement sending ripples of pleasure through your entire body.

Shoto's hands guide you, his grip firm yet tender. He watches you with an intensity that makes your heart race, his dual-colored eyes dark with desire. "That's it," he groans, his voice a low, husky whisper. "Just like that." He thrusts his hips upward to meet all of your movements. "Fuck, you're so tight, babe," he groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

You increase your pace, the sound of your bodies moving together filling the room. You close your eyes and let your head fall back as you slide up and down his cock, riding him as if he was a stallion. 

He leans forward to lick and kiss your tits, and you moan for him. Shoto's hands roam over your body, caressing your breasts, your waist, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

You start bouncing harder on his cock as he worships your tits for a while. 

With one hand he starts rubbing your swollen clit, and your pussy spasms around his throbbing cock.

Your body can't decide whether to shiver from the cold or melt from the heat, the contrasting temperatures driving you wild. "Shoto," you moan, your voice breathless and needy. "I can't... I can't hold on…"

"Let go," he urges, his grip on your hips tightening. "I want to feel you come again."

The intensity of his words, the command in his tone, sends you spiraling towards another climax. You can feel the pressure building, the coil tightening within you, ready to snap. With a cry of his name, you come undone, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm.

Shoto's own release follows closely, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his seed once more. The warmth of his cum, the way his body shudders beneath you, is making you moan, just for him.

You collapse against him, both of you spent and breathless. 

His arms wrap around you yet again, holding you close, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your temple. 

The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing.

As you lay there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath you, you can't help but smile. "I love you," you whisper, your voice filled with all the emotions you can't put into words.

"I love you too," Shoto replies, his voice equally tender. "Thank you for taking my breath away."

[celebtf]

what do you think about a story with Alex Sampson? He's a cute singer and songwriter and was really good a America's got Talent

ALEX GOT TALENT

Alex Sampson had always been the golden boy of America’s Got Talent. With his golden locks, dazzling smile, and natural talent, he was the kind of star people couldn’t help but adore. But admiration wasn’t the only thing Alex drew from others—he also attracted envy.

Tyler, a stagehand who had spent years working behind the scenes, was consumed by that envy. He’d watched Alex shine, effortlessly winning hearts while Tyler faded into the background. Every smile Alex gave, every cheer from the crowd, was like a knife twisting in Tyler’s chest.

And Tyler had decided it was time to do something about it.

The trap was simple. Tyler waited until the rehearsal ended, lurking in the shadows of Alex’s dressing room. Alex walked in, humming to himself, completely unaware of the danger.

“Hey, Alex,” Tyler said, stepping into the room with a forced grin. “Mind if I grab an autograph before the show? My niece is a huge fan.”

Alex turned, ever polite, and flashed that winning smile. “Of course, man. Got a pen?”

Tyler didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out an ancient-looking amulet from his pocket. Its surface shimmered with an unnatural light.

“What’s that?” Alex asked, his smile fading.

Before he could react, Tyler muttered an incantation under his breath. The air in the room seemed to crackle with energy, and Alex stumbled back, his body trembling.

“W-What’s happening?!” Alex cried out, his voice strained with panic.

A strange glow enveloped Alex, his limbs locking in place as his body began to distort. His arms flattened, his torso compressed, and his legs seemed to fuse together. His skin turned soft and fabric-like, his features melting into smooth, black cotton.

His screams faded into silence as his form twisted into something unrecognizable. Moments later, Alex was gone, replaced by a simple black tank top crumpled on the floor.

Tyler knelt down and picked up the tank top, holding it up to the light. The fabric felt warm in his hands, almost alive. He could feel Alex’s presence—his fear, his confusion—trapped within the threads.

“Not so perfect now, are we?” Tyler sneered, a dark satisfaction curling his lips.

Tyler stripped off his own shirt, tossing it aside, and slipped the Alex tank top over his body. The moment the fabric touched his skin, the amulet around his neck pulsed with energy. His body convulsed as it began to change.

His wiry frame filled out, muscles rippling under his skin. His chest broadened, his abs tightened into a perfect six-pack, and his arms became toned and strong. He felt his posture straighten, his skin smooth and flawless. Tyler’s reflection in the mirror shimmered, and when the glow faded, Alex Sampson stared back at him.

Tyler ran his hands over his new face, marveling at the sharp jawline, the perfect smile, and the piercing blue eyes. He flexed his arms, tracing the definition of his biceps, then ran his fingers through the thick, golden hair.

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice now Alex’s deep, smooth tone. “No wonder everyone loves you.”

Tyler leaned closer to the mirror, flashing a grin. “Look at these abs,” he said, lifting the tank top slightly to admire them. “And this face... perfection.” He laughed, the sound dripping with malice.

Turning to the tank top still on his body, he smirked. “Bet you’re loving this, huh, Alex? Watching me be better at being you than you ever were.”

The next day, Tyler—now Alex—walked onto the stage, soaking in the applause. The judges praised his performance, calling it his best yet. Fans online couldn’t stop talking about how “Alex” had outdone himself.

But the real Alex, trapped as the tank top clinging to Tyler’s chest, could feel every moment. He could sense Tyler’s heartbeat, hear the cheers of the crowd, and even see the stage lights through some twisted connection.

Tyler, meanwhile, basked in the stolen glory. Every time he passed a mirror, he admired himself, flexing and posing. He’d whisper to the tank top, mocking Alex.

“Your life is mine now,” Tyler said one night, his reflection smirking at him. “And you? You’re nothing but an accessory. A piece of fabric. No one’s even going to miss you.”

Weeks passed, and Tyler perfected his act. He knew exactly how to mimic Alex’s charm and mannerisms. The world believed the lie, and Tyler relished every second of it.

But beneath the surface of his stolen identity, the tank top—Alex—still burned with anger. Every thread of his being screamed for revenge. Would he find a way to break free? Or was he doomed to remain a silent witness as Tyler lived his dream?

[rogdona]

HIHI!! IF U FEEL LIKE EXPLAINING how do u make the shadows look so good in this drawing? llike how do u decide in which spots to put the pretty reflective blue colors and the warm orangy-red colors?

HIIIIIII💕💕💕 not quite sure how to explain but ill try!!!👍👍👍

theres not much of a process at all tbhh JDSDHSHD i usually paint everything one color before starting to paint properly, in the case of the drawing ur asking ab its a desaturated brown which i assume is what looks blueish in contrast w the bright oranges!!🙌🙌🙌

as for choosing where to put the reds theres not much thought into it JSDHGJ i just use it as an inbetweeen shade between the darkest and brightests and move it slightly in the color wheel to give the drawing some variation since i dont like sticking to the same place in the wheel for the whole part🙌🙌🙌

[maevebabyy]

i know i would like that drabble ☝️

TRANCE (alt. vers.)

daniela avanzini x reader

summary - comforting your gf ab her curls

a/n - here you go anon! 😁😁 this is the other vers i had in mind for this fic.

w/c - 708 (drabble)

the final bell rang, signalling the end of another school day. as students flooded the halls, daniela felt a familiar weight settle on her shoulders. she gazed at her reflection in a nearby window, seeing the loose curls that framed her face. they looked great like her girlfriend, y/n, said continuously throughout the day. but, she couldn’t help but feel a bit insecure.

she hesitated, feeling the familiar flutter of vulnerability. it was silly, really– she loved her curls, but today they felt like a spotlight highlighting her insecurities. memories of the last few hours echoed in her mind: whispers from classmates, glances that lingered a little too long. had they been admiring her hair, or were they judging her for wearing it differently today?

“earth to daniela?” you chuckle, breaking through the curly-headed girl’s thoughts. 

daniela turned to her left, met with the expectant gaze of her girlfriend. your smile was warm, anchoring her once more.

“yeah, just… lost in thought,” daniela replied, forcing a smile in return.

you stepped closer, your eyebrows knitting in concern. “you sure you’re okay? you seemed a bit off today, dani.”

daniela bit her lip, glancing away. “it’s just… my hair,” she admitted softly, the words slipping out before she could second-guess herself.

“what about it?” you grin softly, taking daniela’s hand and intertwining it with yours. “you look amazing today.”

amazing. it was a word that echoed in daniela’s mind, but he doubt that lingered like a shadow. she tugged at a loose curl, watching as it bounced back into place. “i don’t know… i just feel like i’ve been under a microscope all day, y/n.”

daniela cringed internally at how how whiney sounded, taking note of the shift of expression on your face, the understanding dawning in your eyes. “what do you mean?”

the cuban took a deep breath, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. “it’s like… everyone’s staring. i’m not used to this, you know? i love my curls, but today, it just feels like they’re too much.”

you squeeze her hand gently in response, your thumb brushing over her knuckle in a comforting rhythm. “they’re part of you, dani. beautiful just like the rest of you.”

a soft sigh escaped daniela’s lips, the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease. “it’s just hard to feel beautiful when it feels like everyone’s judging me. i know it’s silly, but…”

“it’s not silly,” you interjected, your voice firm yet soothing. “it’s completely valid to feel that way. but you should never feel less than because of your hair. you’re absolutely stunning, and if anyone can’t see that, then they’re the ones missing out.”

daniela’s heart swelled at your words, a mixture of warmth and gratitude washing over her. she felt so lucky to have someone she could always fall back on. someone she could show her insecurities to. someone she could be vulnerable with.

“see? you’re smiling!” you said, your grin wide.

indeed, daniela was now smiling. her curls highlighting her features perfectly. her self-consciousness that had felt so heavy was starting to lift, replaced by the warmth of your belief in her.

“i guess i just need to get used to it,” daniela murmured, her voice softer now, more contemplative. “i’ve always straightened my hair because i thought it’d be easier to blend in.”

“you stand out either way,” you chuckle. “curls or not. but i think you’re even more breathtaking with your natural hair.”

daniela blushed lightly, warmth flooding her cheeks as she processed your words. it was amazing how you always knew the right things to say, how you could always see the beauty in her that she sometimes struggled to recognize. she was losing the battle of trying not to fall for you harder. which, ultimately, she lost– gladly though.

you laugh lightly, glad to have lifted your girlfriend’s spirits. “just think, the more you wear it like this, the more comfortable you’ll get. it’s like building confidence muscle.”

“confidence muscle,” daniela repeated, the phrase making her laugh. no one else could make her laugh at a stupid line like you could. 

it felt good to share this moment with you, to lean into your energy instead of her doubts.

a/n - was emailing my prof throughout writing this for an extra 2 marks on my code LMAOOO

[vinjinssunglasses]

—————————————————————————

character: kim gitae

summary: him in a relationship w u <33

start: 23 aug

end: 25 aug

a/n: we don’t know much ab him yet, so this definitely had me thinking but he is definitely a red flag 🙏

—————————————————————————

✮ Not the type of guy to chase after people, but he was thrown off balance after you left him a bitter taste in his mouth. It stirred a yearning within that was hard to ignore. That’s when he found himself having a tendency to shadow your every move, unable to overcome the need to be near you, even if it meant watching at a distance.

✮ Gitae wouldn’t outright ask for your affection; instead he’d either catch you off guard or simply command you. Softly whispering, ‘Kiss me,’ into your ear as he’d edge his face closer to yours. You respond with a quick peck on the lips, the sudden close proximity and his soft breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine, all getting you flustered. Even after you fulfilled what his request, he’d still give you an intense, expecting look. That’s when it hits you — he’s craving more than just a small peck, he has an appetite for something that’ll leave you both breathless.

✮ Gitae takes you out in the most expensive and extravagant of dates, preferring a candlelit table and a glass of the finest wine. In his mind, a girl like you deserves nothing but the best, so he effortlessly swipes his card on whatever you ask for, ensuring you have whatever your heart desires.

✮ Gitae’s a ruthless guy who’s never shown affection properly, until you came and taught him how be loved properly. He hates how you tug his strings and push his boundaries, yet loves how you gently coax him to confide in you, bit by bit. It’s a long, slow process that’ll make any impatient person want to pull their hair out, but seeing how docile and cute he is in your arms, you remain determined.

✮ His love language is definitely verbal (as well as physical). Words like “I love you” don’t come out of his mouth easily, he only reserves them to the most intimate of moments, which is why he holds it in such high regard. But Gitae’s undeniably weak in the knees for praises like: “you’re perfect”, “I’m so lucky to have you”. These words have their own way of lifting his spirits for the rest of the day, leaving him unusually distracted as he savours their impact.

✮ Gitae struggles with emotional intimacy; telling all his deepest thoughts to another is almost impossible. Yet when you ruffle your fingers through his hair and whisper endearing words in his ear, Gitae finds himself accidentally spilling some of the emotions he’s been desperately bottling up.

✮ Gitae lacks the ability to express himself correctly, when he pushes you away suddenly you don’t even know what to think. What went wrong? You replay the events that took place in your head —second-guessing yourself and this relationship— but nothing adds up. Then, when you awake the next morning after a late night, you notice a handwritten note with a bouquet of flowers resting on your nightstand. A simple gesture like this speaks volumes louder than anyones words could — his way of expressing the words that he can’t verbalise, attempting to make things right again after he realised his own mistake.

✮ He’s terrible at cooking. After the waking up, you stumble to the kitchen, drawn the smell of eggs and bacon — but you can’t help but notice something about the smell seems off.

“Good morning.” Gitae calls out as he flips an egg, yet you just can’t take your eyes off his muscular, scarred body which was unexpectedly softened by your pastel pink apron tied around his waist. At first, you despised that apron for its childish design, but now you can’t help but love it. Putting the pan aside, he dishes the plate in front of you and leans over the counter, proud and eager to hear your thoughts. As you stare at the plate with a forced smile, a mixture of disgust and guilt churning in your stomach. Gitae’s your boyfriend, and the last thing you want is to disappoint him, however you can’t even imagine having that anywhere near your mouth, let alone near you.

✮ He can come off as controlling, especially when the grip on your waist tightens as you talk to another man, masking his sour expression with a strained smile.

ׂ╰┈➤ On that note, he’s easily jealous and possessive, and successfully hides it under his composed exterior. If he feels that another man is flirting with you, he’ll subtly assert dominance to let him now that your his —and only his. He doesn’t share, and he ensures it obvious.

✮ When he gets close to you, he starts to relax and become clingy, a stark contrast to his usual, unapproachable demeanour. He typically dislikes being in such close contact with others, keeping others at an arms length. But when it comes to you, it’s different. He finds warmth in your touch, when you run your fingers through his hair and rub his back. It’s as if his hands have a mind of their own, wandering all over your body as though possessed. He can’t help but let his lips brush against yours, pulling you in closer for a deeper embrace. ׂ╰┈➤ Despite everything, he’s still the same guy. After a night spent cuddling you wake up with an unfamiliar chill in the air, you impulsively reach out for Gitae for warmth — only to find the space beside you is empty..?

What is he even afraid of? is it getting too attached to you? Being to vulnerable around someone? Getting too attached to you? Or having you as his weakness? He disappears for a day or two, but when he returns, you can see the internal struggle written over his face as he eagerly clings to you. The familiar blend of cigarettes, alcohol and men’s cologne, a bittersweet reminder of what it felt like to have his arms around you again. Rightfully, you were angry, distraught and confused, but the relief took over as you cuddle him for what felt like hours.

Having been subjected to a live of crime, money and harsh realities, he’s learned to put walls up around him to learn how to survive in a world of deception and bloodshed. He yearns to let you in, to show you the world he’s confined himself in, yet, the walls only grow thicker and higher than before despite his hardest efforts.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

You guys don’t know how much yearning for Baghdad takes up of my mental real estate

[oh-no-its-bird]

Special edition Christmas fic where genin aged team 7 decide hatch their newest plot to see Kakashi's face: using mistletoe

Because if they trap him under it with someone, he'll surely have to take his mask off to give them a kiss! ...Right?

(Sasuke thinks this is fucking stupid)

The entire thing is just a fucking slapstick comedy as Kakashi goes "what's the funniest way I can go along with this." And decides he will in fact lower his mask and give a kiss to everyone the kids corner him with. But only when they look away / blink / their view is obstructed

The kids are chasing him around with a string on a stick w mistletoe tied to the end of it, and every time they miss seeing the kiss (and his face) hey scream even louder

Reactions range from "???!?????!?!??????" (Iruka) to straight up passing out (Gai) to laughing hysterically with a bright red face (Kurenai) to just sort of freezing up like a deer in headlights (Asuma)

Kakashi, having way too much fun, makes a shadow clone to pull the Sukea thing again. And the kids get "Sukea" on board, thinking he can take a photo the second Kakashi pulls his mask down for a smooch. Kakashi has WAY too much fun, essentially role-playing with himself and swooning dramatically. Then, at the end, Sukea goes, "Oh no the camera's memory card is gone, Kakashi must have stolen it :((" and the kids all scream in agony

They try to get him to describe Kakashi's face and Sukea gets all coy and goes "umm... its kind of... indescribable?"

(They get another person to try to snap a photo of him but they turn out to be a freezer so they don't take the picture. When the kids harass them ab it they just giggle a little maniacally ab his face)

This does escalate to doing this shit w enemy nin btw. Funniest option is obviously Tobi but I'm also raising u a really freaked the fuck out Itachi looking like an angry, surprised cat after Kakashi gives him a peck on the cheek (Sasuke is gonna fucking KILL HIMSELF)

Obito gets the full makeout session bc its funniest.

He shows up looking for a dramatic fight but like halfway through his villain speech, team 7 dangles the mistletoe over him, and he's so thrown off guard he just kinda "???? excuse me I'm kind of in the middle of—"

Kakashi, who is a) in too deep to stop the bit now, and b) recognizes a good way to throw off an enemy, fucking launches himself at him, pushes Tobi's mask up just enough to kiss, and starts to make out w him

His back is turned to the kids and they're all scrambling to try to catch a single glimpse, but he keeps his back to them as they scream and run around (thus prolonging the kiss)

Kakashi is totally checked out of the actual kiss, this is all fun and games to him. Obito is having a fucking religious experience wrapped in a manic episode flavored internal breakdown topped off with a very loud high pitched kettle noise that may or may not be confined to his brain

This lasts for like a solid minute before Kakashi releases him and readjust his mask, pats him on the shoulder and goes "sorry about that teehee"

Obito just kinda 🧍‍♀️ and they stare at eachother for another solid minute as team 7 screams and cries and throws up in the bg

Kakashi, seeing the opportunity to leave and avoid what was for sure going to be a potentially devistating fight: "cool. So, anyways. Bye lmao." And runs for it w his students

Obito is left tanding still as a statue in the middle of the clearing. After like 20 seconds alone he starts hyperventilating.

Merry Christmas everybody 👍

[carry-on-my-wayward-gays]

Sharing weed is my love language

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → insecurities, fluff, angst

Summary → Seven minutes in heaven, what could happen?

(gif not mine)

Parties had never been your scene. The loud music, the dim lighting, and the sea of unfamiliar faces always made you feel out of place. But when Betty insisted, practically dragging you along with MJ, you found yourself reluctantly agreeing. Betty and MJ were your best friends, and as much as you didn't enjoy parties, you hated the idea of being left out more.

The moment you stepped into the crowded living room, you stuck close to MJ, your safety net. You shared a knowing look, silently agreeing to stick together for the night. But that plan quickly fell apart when Betty spotted Ned across the room. With a playful wink, she ditched you two in favor of her boyfriend, leaving you and MJ to fend for yourselves.

That’s when the trouble began.

You didn’t know how, but before you knew it, you were dragged into a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. The circle of players quickly formed: you, MJ, Betty, Ned, Flash, Cindy, Abe, Tiny, Jason, and Peter. The moment you saw Peter, your heart skipped a beat. You had a crush on him for as long as you could remember, but he had liked Liz back in sophomore year. Now that Liz was gone, you didn’t know if he was interested in anyone else. You hoped, silently and fervently, that the bottle would point to him.

It was your turn. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and spun the bottle. It whirled around, the tension in the room thick as everyone watched. The bottle slowed, and your heart pounded in your chest as it pointed directly at Peter.

Your excitement was short-lived, though. Peter’s face was expressionless, almost cold, as he got up. He didn’t seem excited at all. In fact, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. A lump formed in your throat, but you forced yourself to keep calm. Maybe he was just as nervous as you were.

The two of you were ushered into a small, cramped closet. Flash and Jason slammed the door shut with a loud laugh, locking you both in. The dim light from the overhead bulb cast shadows on the walls, making the small space feel even smaller. Peter stood as far away from you as possible, his hands shoved into his pockets.

You tried to swallow your disappointment, but your insecurities were already creeping in, whispering that he didn't want to be here with you. You cleared your throat, trying to break the awkward silence. “Um, hey.”

“Hi,” he replied, his voice flat.

You shifted uncomfortably, your nerves getting the better of you. “W-we don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’d rather be in here with someone else. We can just stay where we are.” Your voice trailed off, growing quieter with each word.

Peter’s expression softened slightly, and he finally met your gaze. “It’s nothing to do with you. I’m sorry I seemed rude. I’m just really stressed out lately, and parties aren’t really my thing. I only came because of Ned.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Me too. Betty practically dragged me here.”

He chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension between you. “Seems like we have something in common.”

For some reason, his words gave you a burst of courage. Maybe it was the small space or the fact that you were alone with him, but you suddenly felt braver. “Hey, Peter, I… um, I wanted to tell you something for a while.” You swallowed hard, nerves bubbling up again. “I-I really like you. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. You don’t really know me, so I get it.”

Peter blinked, clearly stunned by your confession. His expression was unreadable, and your heart sank a little. But then, to your surprise, he spoke. “Yeah, I don’t really know you… but maybe I’d like to. Maybe we could go on a date sometime? Get to know each other? And if it goes well… who knows.... maybe we could start dating.”

Peter had never dated anyone or even gone on a date, so he was hopeful. You like him, so maybe it will be good.

“Yes! I-I mean, yeah, sure,” you replied, trying to sound casual despite the excitement bubbling inside you.

A shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Hey, we still have two minutes. Do you want to… maybe… kiss?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you nodded. “Yeah.” Your voice was just a whisper.

The kiss was soft, tentative, and a little awkward, but it was sweet in its own way. It was both of your first kisses. Neither of you were experienced, but you both tried, and by the time you leaned in again for a second kiss, it felt a little more natural, a little more right.

Suddenly, the door was yanked open, and Flash’s voice rang out. “Yo, Parker’s kissing Y/n!” He sounded half-amazed, half-amused. Ned cheered loudly, and you pulled away from Peter, your face burning with embarrassment. Peter glared at Flash, clearly annoyed.

MJ gave you a thumbs up from across the room, her smirk evident even in the dim light.

“Shut up, Flash. Leave us alone,” Peter snapped, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the closet. Without another word, he led you upstairs, away from the chaos of the party.

Peter guided you to a quiet room at the far end of the hall, away from the noise and the teasing. He closed the door behind you and turned to face you, a soft smile on his lips. “Sorry about Flash. He’s an idiot.”

You giggled, still a little flustered from the kiss. “It’s okay. I’m just glad we got out of there.”

He hesitated for a moment, then took a step closer to you, his eyes meeting yours. "So, about that date… h-how about tomorrow? Maybe we can go to the movies or grab some coffee?" His voice was hopeful, a bit nervous.

You smiled, your own nerves finally settling. “I’d like that.”

Peter’s smile grew, and for the first time that night, he seemed genuinely happy. “Me too.”

As the two of you stood there, you felt something shift. The awkwardness of the game downstairs was replaced with something new—something exciting. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips.

Peter caught your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside that small room didn't exist. He leaned down slowly, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one more sure, more confident. It was sweet and gentle.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling, a little breathless but incredibly happy. "We should probably get back downstairs before they start making stuff up," you said, though you made no move to leave.

"Yeah," Peter replied, his voice soft, "let's go."

As you left the party that night, walking side by side with Peter, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something wonderful.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[danikamariewrites]

i took a look at my room and started fantasizing ab azriel as usual. And it got me thinking ab his room aesthetic blended w his mate who is super girly. Like pink covers, satin pillows, baby pink everything. And imagine az with a mate who moves into his room and starts to bring in her own stuff, and he one day walks in and his dark room has pink bedsheets with the cutest stuffed animals. And to the right side of his bed are the weapons he uses to kill enemies. Like the sudden change in aesthetics is comical. He doesn’t even mind he just loves it, he’d ofc never let anyone else in his room, but his mate? yeah she can do whateverrr she wants in here. Could I please request this? Maybe the ic walk past his room and sees pink cutesy girly stuff and their jaw drop

Combined Aesthetics

Azriel x reader

A/n: I think this is so adorable. He would love the pink and all your stuff in his room and have heart eyes every time he sees you sitting on the bed that’s now the bed you share 😍

Warnings: none

You and Azriel have two very different aesthetics as you lovingly pointed out at the start of your relationship. While he gravitated more towards darker and minimal decor you preferred colorful and cozy.

At the start of your relationship Azriel mostly stayed the night at your apartment. He said he was comfortable there, plus he liked all your little knick knacks and decor. Your place felt like home to him. It’s a safe space for him and he feels at peace with you. A warm feeling always rising in his chest when his with you.

Even though his home is with the IC and his permanent room is at the River House with everyone else he can’t help but think of you as home. The first time you stayed the night in his room was when you met the IC. Azriel invited you over to finally meet his family who you became instant friends with which made Azriel very happy to see his two worlds no longer be separated.

Cassian grilled you immediately about your relationship of course. You joke back and forth with him and Rhys making Azriel smile. You and Nesta clicked instantly as well. And you were planning on spending time with each of them already. And of course Nyx stole your heart. The little boy clung to you instantly, wanting you to play with him all night.

Once dessert wound down the two of you headed up to his room. Azriel stopped outside the door gripping the handle so hard his knuckles turned white. You rest your hand on his to get his attention. Az looks at you like he forgot you were there for a second.

He felt like a teenager bringing a female to his bedroom for the first time and mother above did it feel nerve wracking. Az wasn’t nervous for you to stay the night. Truthfully he was embarrassed by how bare and dark his room is compared to yours.

“Hey, you ok baby?” He nods, “Yeah it’s just…I want you to feel at home here.” You sweetly smile up at your boyfriend. “Of course I will Azzy. It’s your room how could I not?” He nods stiffly and pushes the door open. You walk in first, Az follows and turns on the lights.

You stop to take in your new surroundings. Your heart broke at how empty his room is. You knew Azriel was minimal about how much space he takes up, but even in his own room? His personal space? It felt a little cold like his shadows.

The floor was wood, no carpet anywhere. Just a large velvet arm chair and foot rest by the fireplace. A simple clock on the mantle. Thick black curtains cover the floor to ceiling windows and balcony doors. His bed was simple. A black duvet with two pillows resting against the headboard. You were positive that if you pulled the cover back you’d find black sheets as well.

Tears pricked your eyes. You know the reason why too. Which broke your heart even more. It was the same reason why it took you months to convince him to have a section of your closet and a drawer in your dresser. Azriel never wanted to be a burden and take up too much space.

It had been minutes since you moved. Azriel was starting to get concerned. He turned you by your shoulders, instantly becoming concerned by your tears. You answer the heartbreaking look on his face with your own question, your voice coming out small, “why don’t you have anything?”

Azriel just shrugged. You pulled him into a tight loving embrace. Az rubs small circles on your back. “It’s ok love. I have enough. I don’t need material things, not when I have you.” He gently brushes the pad of his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears.

You nod giving him a small smile. “I love you so much Az.” “I love you too sweetheart.” He kisses the top of your head, leading you to bed.

——

A year later Azriel asked if you would move in with him. The mating bond had snapped and been accepted and he couldn’t handle the distance from you. Besides, you wanted out of your tiny apartment. This was just a stepping stone until you got a house for yourselves.

“Make yourself at home love. This is your room too, put anything wherever you want.” Your eyes light up at the opportunity to make Azriel’s room homey.

You put your two snow globes from the Winter Court on the mantle next to some other souvenirs you picked up from your travels. You even found stuff Az got from missions in a closet, adding it next to your stuff. A marble vase now sat on a low laying table in front of the hearth. And your pink fluffy arm chair sits across from Azriel’s velvet one.

When he helped you move it in he asked if you wanted to buy matching chairs to which you said no. You love the vast difference in style and want to keep it that way. You said mismatched items made his room feel homey. You wouldn’t say no to buying a carpet though.

A month later Azriel came home from a mission before dinner. He wanted a bath and a nap. Opening the door he found you snuggled up in his large arm chair, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket reading a book.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the ridiculous amount of decorative pillows on the bed along with a new duvet, the plush doll from your childhood and the stuffed animal he got you.

You stared at him apprehensively, not knowing if he’ll be happy with this drastic change of color. You never wanted to disturb his space but you couldn’t have the bed so bare. It made you sad.

Azriel walked over to the bed running a scared hand across the white fluffy duvet. His hazel eyes finally met yours and relief flooded your features. Azriel is smiling at the new change. “It’s like your apartment. I loved everything in there, it was homey. I’m glad you got this.” You clapped your hands in excitement, “Yay! Oh and you’re going to love the bathroom. I got new products and added a few candles. Oh! And new towels!”

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips as you led him into the bathroom to point out what you purchased.

——

While Azriel was in his meeting with Rhys you were cuddled up in your chair waiting for him to come back. You had been sitting in his lap while he worked and desperately wanted his warmth back. Now that winter had settled in you were constantly shivering.

Another chill runs down your spine as you unwrapped the blanket from your shoulders. Padding across the bedroom you head down to the kitchen for some hot chocolate, leaving the door ajar.

Cassian whistled while walking down the hall to his room. He glanced sideways into you and Azriel’s room, stepping a few more paces Cassian freezes quickly, turning around and rushing back to poke his head in. The Generals jaw drops as he takes in the brightness of his brother’s room.

He was never really allowed in Azriel’s room. His brother liked to keep his life private and Cassian respects that. However…the door is open and he isn’t going to miss his one opportunity to look around. After finding the pink sheets, the flowery soaps, and vanilla candles Cassian smirked to himself as he took one last look around before leaving.

Turning to face the doorway he jumped at the sight of Azriel. His shadows flowing angrily around his shoulders and an unpleasant look on his face. “What are you doing in here?” Az asks in a dark yet oddly calm tone. Cassian began to stumble over his words trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t get Truthteller chucked at his head.

Azriel moved swiftly, grabbing Cassian by the collar of his leathers. “This is me and my mates room. So why are you in here?” He asked again with a more gruff voice. “I-“

“Az?” Your voice breaks him from his anger with Cassian. Your mate whips around to face you, letting go of Cass. “Hi my love. I was just asking Cass what he’s up to.” “Oh,” you say tilting your head curiously. “What do you think of the new room Cass?” You smile up at him hopeful.

“Uumm,” Azriel nudged him. A reminder that if he was rude Azriel would kill him. “I love it.” He says genuinely. “I always thought Az could use some more color and fluffy stuff in his life.” Cassian shoots Azriel a shit eating grin that you miss as you go to put down your mug on the table.

Still looking at Azriel, Cassian continues speaking, “I love the contrast between Azriel’s weapons just layin’ around and your pink sheets.” Azriel pushes Cassian out, slamming the door in his face. Cassian’s howling laughter reaches your ears through the thick wood.

You give Azriel a questioning look. “He had to leave, things to do and all that.” Az says. You nod and giggle seeing through his silly little lie.

“I’m still really cold, can I sit on your lap again?” You give him a small pout which Azriel melts at. “Always my love. I could never let you be cold.” Az sits in his arm chair holding up your fuzzy blanket, ready to wrap you in it. You settle into his embrace and he leaves small kisses across your forehead. If you two could stay like this all day you would be content.