My Babymama’s Y’all They Just So Breathtaking ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽

They can do more than that if they want (≧◡≦)

i gotta go and think about golfer! john price and his buddies who frequent the country club you work at and they tip extra nice, and sometimes they like to slip it in the waistband of your skirt!!

My man (づ￣ ³￣)づ

That’s my Man y’all forever and always ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

touchstarved!sero who is naturally really flirtatious and friendly so he craves physical touch like a fucking drug

touchstarved!sero who finds every excuse to touch you—pulling out your chair at dinner functions, guiding you through crowds with one hand at the small of your back; fuck, he’ll even pull your palm into his lap and pretend to examine your lifeline just to get his hands on you

touchstarved!sero who does not fuck around as soon as he knows you’re interested

touchstarved!sero who's pressing you up against the door of the storage closet, cupping your pussy through your underwear and smirking against your lips when he feels how wet you are, "damn baby, is someone a little worked up?"

touchstarved!sero who 100 percent uses his quirk to restrain you even as you're begging to touch him, "sorry honey, gotta get my fill of you first" while prying your legs wide open and diving in between your legs

touchstarved!sero who wants you as messy as he can get you, teasing out orgasm after orgasm from his tongue alone. will not stop until you’ve squirted in his mouth, “sweet as fuckin’ candy, pretty girl, always knew you’d have the best fucking pussy”

a/n: i've never written for him before but this had me feeling a type of way. other touchstarved!mha boys here

This right here THIS IS IIIIIIT

Men that still get shy when you tell them how attractive they are to you :((

Their cheeks get all hot and flushed, they still get a weird, funny feeling in their tummy. They still try to cover their mouth to hide the bashful smile that makes it’s way to their face, but it’s fruitless because you’re always pulling that hand into yours, lacing your fingers together.

They still get flustered when you tell them that you want them to fuck you, that they’re so hot and you’re so wet, even though he hasn’t done anything to warrant such a reaction. He’s simply manspreading on your living room sofa, mindlessly scrolling through channels when you make yourself known on his lap.

It’s subtle, at first. You press innocent kisses to his cheek and he can’t help the quirk in his lip. The smile itching its way. You trail to his neck, kisses getting a bit slower, wetter. He’s not so sure it’s innocent anymore. You start sucking on his jugular and he has to grit his teeth to prevent the groan that’s aching to come out. And when you add teeth? He’s gone.

You don’t even have time to register before he’s got you pinned underneath him on the sofa, veiny hand gripping your throat to suck his own marks into the skin. “Can’t even relax on the couch without you trying to fuck me.” He tuts, annoyed, though you know he’s anything but. 

He grinds his hard length into you and you can’t help but moan at the delicious friction. “You just looked s’good. I can’t help it!” You whine into his neck, and he’s thankful you can’t see the slight blush that makes its way to his face.

He composes himself before deciding to take pity, pulling his shorts halfway down his legs while you pull your panties to the side. You’re both too eager so you settle for rubbing against each other. The head of his cock brushes your clit just right, and you’re so wet, he’s sure he could just slip in.

It doesn’t take long before you’re both cumming, your clit throbbing against his cock, while he paints your cute, pudgy tummy white. 

It’s just not fair, you make him feel like a schoolboy.

— TOJI, NANAMI, YUUTA, Geto, BAKUGO, Iida, Izuku, AIZAWA, Enji, LEVI, ERWIN, Reiner, Armin, IWAIZUMI, Ushijima, OSAMU, Tsukishima, RINDO, Draken, Giyu, SANEMI, ILLUMI, ZORO, Ace, LAW

visions — abby anderson.

summary: a love letter to trying (or the time when you met your favorite people in the world, an overly stressed med student and her overly adventurous one-year-old, in your apartment's hallway).

notes: constantly suffering from chronic baby fever so this is a present from me to you because i spend way too much time thinking about abby as a mom <3

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

You’re stepping out of the elevator when you suddenly hear it— a series of light thumps on the floor, fast but determined like a tiny little elephant who really has somewhere to be right now. Another step and then you stop clumsily when a flash of golden hair comes rushing past you. You follow the sight with your eyes, tilting your head. A little girl is walking, no, stomping through the hallway. She’s no older than two years old, her thin shining hair in two short braids, blue jean overalls and red socks on her feet. She moves so confidently that you almost don’t think about it, almost have the instinct to look away as if to not accidentally appear nosy, but her tiny stature and wobbly sense of direction keep your attention.

You look around the hallway, expecting surely the sound of the little girl’s parent calling her name (something sweet and pretty and classic, you imagine; it’d suit her). You picture her name being followed by a tired sigh before her patents rush to catch up, maybe rolling their eyes in a way that pretends to be annoyed but unmistakingly holds a million times more affection. A perfect family, a tiny glimpse of a full life somehow existing right in your unimportant building.

The hallway is long and terribly empty. You look back at the little girl who is striding forward in less of a rush now, with no worries, like this is the same route she’s taken for years.

What are you supposed to say to get a kid’s attention when you don’t know their name? What’s something concise, yet nice, yet simple enough to be understood? Babysitting as a teen has prepared you for a lot, just maybe not all of it. It's been a little too long. You linger on it for just a second before spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hi, princess,” It’s a little awkward, but you’re relieved when she immediately stops and spins around, like something about it sounded familiar— could be your sweet tone or the nickname, you’re not sure. The little girl tilts her head to the side, round cheek lightly squished against her shoulder. It's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you giggle like a charmed kid. “Where did you come from?” you ask, but before you have the chance to reach her she pouts her lips, as if just now realizing that you’re not who she thought you were. And then she turns her back, like there's no time to waste, to return to her journey with renewed enthusiasm.

In a scarily fast moment, you realize that she’s going for the stairs. It would maybe be a slightly less terrifying idea if that stupid door actually worked— but it doesn't, it broke sometime last May and now it's awfully easy to open, no strength or shove required. Sometimes, if it's windy and quiet enough, you can faintly hear it swing back and forth from your apartment. The little girl reaches a hand out, not intimidated by the tall door more than three times her height. If you weren’t this terrified, you’d find it amazingly admirable. 

You don’t register you’re running until you reach her, don’t register the sound of fast steps behind you or the scream of Rue! or anything else other than the heavy relief on your chest when you lift the baby by her armpits and hold her over your hip against your side. She’s fussing in your arms immediately, upset that she’s being interrupted, especially by a stranger. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” you coo, though trying to be soothing when your heart is beating this fast is admittedly not the easiest task.

“Rue!” Someone repeats, and this time you do hear it. A woman is running down the hallway, hand coming down to mindlessly drop a tote bag bursting with groceries on the floor by the time she’s in front of you. The little girl reaches out her arms immediately, tiny fists opening and closing furiously and you sigh with relief as you carefully pass her over to the arms of the tall stranger. Her hair is blonde but darker than Rue’s, held back in a braid that looks both pretty and messy, like it was once pristine and then slept on. She’s wearing jeans and a half unbuttoned white shirt, a black tank top underneath. Her chest rises and falls and you notice that yours is no different. Adrenaline is a strange bond to share with a stranger, but it does make things less awkward, knowing you’re both here, feeling the same thing. You meet her expertly focused eyes for just a second before she turns to look at the little girl, searching for anything that could be wrong. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay, right? You’re okay,” the baby flashes a precious, wobbly smile at the sound of her voice, but she’s quickly distracted by the endlessly fascinating rainbow of groceries that lie on the floor. Her tiny head peeks over her mom’s shoulder to observe and it’s like you both can take a more soothing breath now, knowing she’s okay. “Thank you so much,” Abby says. You blink a couple times before you realize that she’s talking to you. “Sorry, I really don’t know how that happened. We were— we just got home from the store and I hadn't even put down all the bags yet and I thought— I was convinced that I shut the door, but…” her rambling drifts off and the stranger takes another breath, reddish embarrassment crawling up her neck.

You understand, suddenly, that she’s not only struggling with the stress of losing and finding her baby, but also the shame of having to face a stranger who might judge her for it. It feels insane to you, to think that she would be forced to prioritize that right now. “Oh, no, it’s okay!” you rush to respond. “I saw her immediately, and you were here in seconds! She wouldn't have gotten any further than that,” your smile is soft, but you speak with enough confidence to be reassuring (babysitting lessons, perhaps), “It was just a scare— don’t be too hard on yourself, please.”

Abby looks disarmed by your answer, her eyebrows raised in surprise. A short moment passes before she nods and smiles back, a small gesture without any less warmth. It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her so far and it suits her beautifully, enough to make your face feel warm. Her blushing is much less forgiving though, more physically evident on her skin, spread over her cheekbones and the bridge of her pretty nose.

Rue giggles and it distracts you both, her hand waving excitedly at the colorful bird printed on a box of cereal as soon as she spots him. Abby looks at you for a second too long before she clears her throat, joking, “Sorry, she really loves that guy.”

You hum. “He is pretty cool, to be fair.”

Abby tilts her head, copying your sincere tone. “I don’t know, I always thought he’d be kind of a dick in person. He just looks like the type.”

Your startled laugh makes her smirk but she's frustratingly good at hiding it, free hand covering her mouth casually enough that you don’t notice. You look at the grabbing motion of the baby’s hands and pout with sympathy. “She loves him, though. We should probably get him off the floor.”

“Yeah, I should get that— I guess I just ran out with the bag, huh?” Abby huffs. She looks and sounds, physically, a lot less anxious now, less ashamed and more annoyed at herself.

“Would you like some help?”

“That’s okay, I got it,” she’s not sure that she does but she says it anyway, instinctively. Abby tries to lean down and Rue clutches her shirt, pulling enough to communicate that she is not ready to be put down yet. Abby straightens her back quickly enough to communicate that she is not ready to risk getting her any more upset for today. She meets your eyes for just a second. “Well, maybe some help.”

“Sure, just some,” you chuckle. “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it.”

People say that to Abby a lot— don’t worry about it! She hears it from her colleagues when she inevitably asks for the notes from the last class she ran a little late to, from a few of her kinder professors when she’s a day past some assignment’s deadline, from the guy at the grocery store that picks up the packets of M&M bags from the floor when Rue’s curious hands knock them over, from her dad when she asks if he’d be okay with babysitting for just a tiny bit longer. It always makes her stomach turn with guilt, some cases more intense than others, her lips usually pursed as she turns around and takes a breath. This time when you say it, she finds the guilt passing through her with ease, a short visit that makes her shoulders tense before it gets replaced by something else. She believes you, for some reason. Her brain is quiet except for thinking, for once, that there could really be nothing to worry about.

Your hands move casually as you pick everything up, resting on your knees like it’s not uncomfortable, like they might as well be your groceries. The idea is startling. Abby thinks, suddenly, that if someone were to walk into this scene, they wouldn’t read you as a kind stranger. Your ease would hint to something else, a friend, a lover, a picture of a family. Abby finds herself looking at your hands again, brought back to reality only by the slight tug of her hair. Rue plays with her braid distractedly, mumbling to herself about her froot loops friend— except she hasn’t quite learned to pronounce it yet, so it sounds more like oot oops.

Abby chuckles, brushing some of her loose baby hair behind her ears, mumbling back answers to her gibberish to keep her entertained even if Rue doesn’t seem to need it. She’s always endlessly thrilled to just be outside, perhaps the one trait she got from her grandpa rather than her mom. Other than her light snoring.

“She loves you a lot,” you comment, rising from your knees with the bag hanging on your shoulder. You don’t ask and Abby doesn’t think about it—  you just start walking back to her apartment together. “Don’t you, Ru-Ru?” the baby giggles, her head turning to you, blue eyes sparkling. You laugh, “Oh, you like that name. It suits you, Ru-Ru.”

“That’s what my dad calls her,” Abby explains.

“He sounds like a man with taste,” you say. “What do you call her?”

“Princess.”

Your smile is wide and pleased. “That suits her even more, I fear.”

“I think so, too,” Abby agrees, a proud little glimmer in her eyes. She stops in front of her door, B06 engraved in silver. Is it always such a short walk from the elevator? She’s seriously thinking about it until, after realizing in an embarrassing second that she never introduced herself to the person kind enough to chase after her baby, help pick up her groceries and carry them home, Abby suddenly turns to you with widened blue eyes and pretty, reddened cheeks. You forgive her before she even says anything, and forget your traitorous reason before it gets a chance to warn you about how dangerous that thought is. “God, sorry, I never told you my name. I’m—”

“Abby, right?” you smile softly at her surprised face, chuckling before you explain, “One of our neighbors is an old friend of mine and she kinda threw this welcome party for me when I moved in. I promise we weren’t gossiping, but I think someone mentioned you.”

“Oh,” Abby nods casually, brushing it off as if she won’t be spending all night thinking about what your first impression of her might’ve been like. Rue fusses in her arms, a little grunt as she kicks her legs to be put down. “Sorry— I‘ll be right back,” Abby shares a quick look with you and you wave goodbye, not surprised to be missing Rue as soon as she turns around. You watch them walk inside together, a tiny hand waving back at you and making you smile as she excitedly makes her way to her playpen, shrieking bye-bye! Abby places a kiss on top of Rue’s blonde hair and makes her laugh with some noise that you don’t quite catch. She’s comfortable here, walking amongst colorful toys and biology books. She moves like an expert, pulling down her shirt where it rode up somewhere along the way. You make half an effort not to stare, but it’s half more than the effort Abby makes to not let it get to her head. The most confident she’s felt so far, she asks you, “Did that totally innocent welcome party of yours happen, like, two weeks ago? I think I heard some music.”

“It was extremely innocent,” you insist, eyebrows raised teasingly, “And no, sorry, not sure what that was— I moved here like a year ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You grace her (or yourself) with a second of silence before you laugh at her awkward expression, the way she brushes a hand over her flushed face and huffs. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I’m kinda terrible at keeping up with this type of, uh, social stuff.”

“It’s not embarrassing, I promise. It’s a big world,” you reassure her. “Even bigger when you’re doing a million other stuff.”

You tell her your name and Abby, who is young like you but also highly knowledgeable on little specific human interaction cheat-codes that come with being a mom, nods her head and makes her eyes light up with what seems, to the naive eye, like recognition. “Oh, that’s right!”

You stare for a second before squinting your eyes. “Are you lying to me, Abby from B06?”

Abby grins, wondering when was the last time she found being caught this funny. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

You laugh the loudest you have so far and a daydreamed life flashes in Abby’s head— in that big, dramatic way that it does only when you’ve been watching too many rom-coms every night, or when you’re getting too much dating advice from your friend who’s been married since eighteen, or maybe when you fall in love with a pretty stranger who seems to be able to read your mind. It’s an idealized vision of an idealized world, and Abby finds herself being completely okay to clutch it in her fists to keep, because it’s fucking lovely.

“Well, I forgive you,” you tell her, unaware (maybe?) of the chaos that you’ve induced inside of her. “You’re a busy girl.”

Abby tries to think of a good, smooth way to tell you that she could see herself saying your name everyday, placed adoringly after good morning and I miss you. All she comes up with is, “I got enough time to learn it.”

—

You play with the hem of your shirt, pajamas made of mostly Abby’s clothes every night, a scent on them that’s not yours but it might as well be. It’s yours in all the ways that matter, in the same sense that she is. Abby walks out of the bathroom wearing her usual pajamas— a shirt that fits too loose and boxers that are a little too tight around her thighs. She doesn't seem to mind them, and you don’t seem to wanna complain. She knows by the way you look at her. You’re leaning back on your palms, your head tilted, the same shyness and sparkly adoration in your eyes that you’d get when you didn't know each other all that well. It’s not too often that she sees that nervousness anymore, but she still gets glimpses of it, a blink of something on your face or your tone or your breathing that says I have a crush on you and I’m hoping you can’t tell. She likes that nervousness the best right now, the way it’s timid and then settles into something like cockiness when you remember that she’s looking at you just the same, when you remember how much you like the way she copies the tilt of your head and teases you as if she's not also smiling like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

Abby loves every moment like this, loves getting home and helping prepare dinner and making Rue laugh before kissing her goodnight, loves doing the dishes with you and flirting and talking about the day. Today, she’s especially looking forward to the latter.

“So, how was it?” she asks, the back of her thighs resting against the dresser. She’s trying to play it cool and she's annoyingly good at it, even now.

“Hm?” you hum, leaning further back to rest on your elbows, your back almost fully touching the bed. Abby feels a little bad keeping you up, but she knows she’ll be tossing and turning all night if she has to wait until the morning to ask.

“The school meeting.”

“Oh,” you smile wide enough to look silly and beautiful, sweet enough to rot teeth. She feels like she could sink in it, your smile and the relief it brings to her well hidden nervousness. “I loved it so much, Abs.”

Abby is smooth when she walks closer, soft when she cups your cheek, but there's something anxious in her eyes if you know where to look. “Yeah?” she insists.

You nod your head and kiss the palm of her hand, your lips pressed together in that funny way of trying to hold back an excited giggle. Abby smiles and feels nostalgic for the time, many many months ago, when she’d bring a finger to her lips to shush you and then remind you in an expert whisper that Rue is sleeping in the other room. She doesn't have to teach you much at all anymore, and every moment that proves that to her feels like the most beautiful, unfamiliar peace.

“I’m so happy,” you announce, looking up at her. You’re tired enough that it feels almost like being drunk, which is maybe why a short giggle manages to escape. Abby finds it contagious, your joy moves through her as naturally and importantly as the pumping of her blood. “I’m so excited for all of it.”

It’s the second parents' meeting that you’ve attended at Rue’s school— but you spent that first one sitting quietly by her side, practically hiding behind her, too aware of yourself and of the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing. “Nobody knows,” Abby confessed on your way home, a hand on the steering wheel and another over your leg, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm. “Parenting is beautiful, it just comes a lot less naturally than you’d think. That thing about a biological, primal wisdom or whatever— it’s a nice concept. But the best things I know came from me actively trying.”

Her words echoed in your head when you said yes to attending this school meeting alone, when you smiled and made the effort to look as calm as you could, kissed her cheek and said “of course!”. Being Rue’s parent doesn’t always come naturally, but it comes from the most genuine love, every single time. Of course you can go to her meeting when Abby can’t reschedule work, because of course you want to know about how Rue is doing in school. It’s an honor to be there for her, to speak for her when you know she needs you to. This is you actively trying.

“How were the other parents?” Abby asks, lying on her side now, her finger tracing unreadable patterns on your cheek. She craves physical contact more than she’d like to admit— but it works great, because you never ask her to admit it if she doesn't want to. The pads of her fingers say enough.

“They were cool, they were all very sweet to me. Well, Leo’s mom is a little passive aggressive but she’s that way with everyone,” you comment through a yawn, the side of your face comfortably pressed against your pillow. Abby hums, agreeing. “Sophie’s mom was the nicest, she sat next to me and invited me to join her and Jade’s mom for brunch.”

“Which Sophie?”

“The one that gave Rue a Valentine’s gift, that milk chocolate that she loves.”

“Oh, I like that Sophie.”

“Me too. I think I wouldn't mind joining a weekly brunch cult with her mom.”

Abby laughs in the way that she only does when she’s sleepy, where she sounds almost like her teenage self, shy and sweet. By the time it dies down, you’re almost asleep. But then, softly enough that you almost don’t hear it, she asks, “How do you think you would feel if she called you that?”

You make a questioning little sound that sounds like "what?" but not quite.

“If Rue called you mom.”

Your eyes open in a second, though not without effort. You look at Abby’s face, her pretty, relaxed features, and answer honestly. “I would probably cry. And then kiss her cheeks for as long as she let me.”

Abby chuckles. “Like when she fell off the swing and got the tiniest scratch on her knee?”

“Yeah, just— the joyful version of that, I guess. They would be the happiest tears ever spilled,” you explain, so sincere that Abby almost tells you. And you know her enough to read it on her face, the way she barely parted her lips and then pressed them back together quickly. Your head lifts from the pillow. “Wait, why? She told you something? Did she ask about that?”

Abby is great at keeping it cool, but less so once she’s been caught. Her nervous chuckle says it all. “I…”

“Abby, I swear to god, I will not let you sleep until you tell me.”

She more than believes you, but a flash memory of her pinky finger wrapped around Rue’s holds her back from spilling any more details. “Sorry, baby, I’m not allowed to say.”

“Oh my god,” you drop back onto your pillow, this time lying flat on your back. “You think she’s gonna say it?” you ask, and Abby is unsure if you’re asking her or the ceiling or a godly presence way above it. Or yourself, most likely. “It’s okay if she doesn't, maybe she was just curious. Maybe she needs time. I mean, obviously. She probably won’t say it, like, tomorrow, right?” you turn your head and look at her, so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you don’t process the amusement and adoration that’s all over your girlfriend’s face. “What if I react super weird and she doesn't say it again?”

Abby’s lips stretch into the softest smile, so in love that she almost forgets to answer and instead holds her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close to press a kiss against your forehead. Your eyebrows are still furrowed worriedly when she pulls away, and she brushes her thumb over your cheek as she lets out the kindest hum, acknowledging your question. “You’re not gonna react weird, sweetheart.”

Momentarily flustered, you shake your head to remember the point that you’d been thinking about. “But I shouldn't cry, imagine how confusing that would be for her— what if she thinks she made me upset?”

“That won’t happen. She cried happy tears when you moved in, remember? She knows what they are,” she says. It’s one of the best memories you have, the nervous look on Abby’s face when she asked you, rambling, “It would be a big change, but not the worst, right? You’d just be a couple doors down the hall. It would be a lot of the same in a lot of ways, just with us.”

After that came the late nights at your apartment, dates hidden behind the excuse of packing, half empty boxes on the floor and Abby stuck to you like glue, a kiss or ten whenever she got too carried away with excitement. A couple weeks later came your clothes in her closet, your favorite blanket on the couch, and Rue’s eyes glimmering with happy tears as she hid her face on your neck and tried to understand her feelings. Then, after a few minutes of patiently rubbing her back, came her little frown of concentration and the way she attentively listened to you and Abby explain that her reaction was normal, that sometimes happiness feels like too much to hold in just a laugh or a dance. “Oh, okay,” she’d said, in this cute proud tone that she gets whenever she learns something new that makes sense to her. It was the sweetest thing. She’s the sweetest thing— and you can’t believe this is your life, that you get to take care of her and hang out and teach her new things to be proud of.

“You think she wants me to be her mom?”

Abby smiles. “You are her mom, baby.”

Rue doesn't say it the next day. You don’t overthink it— couldn't if you tried. It's a nice feeling to be so happy that you don't feel the need to think. She doesn't call you mom that morning, but she runs to the doorway where you’re putting on your shoes to get to work and wraps her arms so tight around your legs that you have to balance yourself with a hand against the wall. Her hair is messy from sleep, her yellow pajama shirt wrinkled, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at you and asks, “Back soon?”

“Soon as I can, princess,” you promise, leaning down to kiss her head. What is there to overthink? What more could you possibly need?

You can do this forever, have mornings like this and feel grateful in a way that you didn't know existed until now. You love the way it comes at random times, the way you’re still you, still grumpy when your coffee tastes watery, still a little bad at getting to the train station on time, still learning not to burn the first batch of pancakes. It’s a big change, but not the worst, right? It’s a lot of the same in a lot of ways, except Abby is there at the kitchen kissing your cheek, and a tiny head of blonde hair is peeking from the back of the couch, gummy smile and freckled cheeks, saying, “I like my pancakes like that, mom!”

thinking about pro-hero!touya having a crush on you.

tw: fluff, mentions of body-related insecurities, touya is an idiot but also whipped for you💓💓

chubby!reader x dabi

this was a commission for Sheep Anon (Alice!!) if you want a similar piece, check out my ko-fi + commissions page!

—

a company event at the aquarium isn’t touya’s first choice in saturday afternoon activities.

to be fair, he doesn’t think anything would feel great after a friday night full of tequila shots and techno music. he’s still hungover from last night, bass echoing in his ears from the deafening DJ set.

“what is this shit? the only fish i care about are the ones in my sushi,” keigo grumbles, sipping some pedialyte. he looks just as terrible as his best friend, purple half-moons under his eyes from his night of debauchery.

“we could make some here,” touya mutters. “you fly into the tanks and grab the fish. i cook them with my flames. bingo.”

“oh shit, good idea. bet it would taste delicious, there are some super rare creatures here-,”

“i heard that,” mirko snaps, thwacking him across the head. “we’re supposed to be the best pro-hero agency in the country. if you two morons do that, i’ll throw you to the sharks.”

“come on! it would be the most exciting thing that happened in here anyway.”

“this place blows,” touya scoffs. “who picked the aquarium anyway?”

suddenly, mirko’s eyes slide past touya; her eyes widen in alarm. touya uncaringly glances over his shoulder, wondering what mirko looks so worried about-

he double-takes.

you are standing behind him, looking utterly crestfallen. touya can do nothing but gape at you for what feels like an eternity.

because you look like an absolute dream, your face glowing and an emerald-green skater dress flowing over your curves. the sapphire light of the water reflects off your soft skin, turning you utterly ethereal.

“holy shit!” keigo grins, slinging an arm around your shoulders. touya has to fight the urge to shove him off you. “look at her! doesn’t she look gorgeous?”

“god, you’re so pretty,” mirko whistles. “you’re going to have to tell me where that dress is from.”

but you’re not looking at either of them. instead, your gaze is fixed on touya, face downcast.

“i’m sorry,” you murmur. “if i knew you didn’t like aquariums, i wouldn’t have picked this.”

and touya’s heart feels like it’s shattering to pieces. if it were anyone else, he would’ve laughed in their faces, sneered, yeah, you shouldn’t have.

but it’s you. shy, sweet, beautiful you. the girl he watches from the corner of his eye, while he’s surrounded by people as the life of the party.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he utters.

but you don’t look reassured.

come on, you idiot, think. turn this around.

“since you picked this place, you’ll have to show me a good time,” touya drawls. you let out a yelp of surprise as his fingers dig into your plush skin, drag you away from keigo.

“what the hell?!” mirko calls behind you.

but touya doesn’t care, pulling you behind him until you’re in an exhibit called the tropics.

“let me go, you’re hurting me!” you exclaim.

“sorry,” touya’s hand flies off you like he’s been burned.

you resentfully stare up at him, rubbing your arm. families and couples and tour groups surround both of you, cheerfully bustling around the glass tanks and gasping at the exotic animals.

“can you just leave me alone?” you snap. “i know this isn’t the strip club, but i actually really love this place. i wanted to have a good day today.”

you march away, leaving touya stammering and speechless.

“give her a few minutes, son,” a kindly old man advises.

“i didn’t-,” touya winces, swallows down his annoyance. “yes, sir.”

your face lights up when you stare into the water, touya idly observes. it’s the same look you get on your face when you’re reading a novel in the breakroom, chewing your straw in anticipation as you turn the pages. touya thinks you’re breathtaking when you’re excited.

slowly, he steps over to you. gingerly takes a seat on your bench.

“they’re really pretty,” he quietly admits.

you don’t respond, but your smile fades a little.

“those are... crystal jellyfish, right?”

touya’s heart skips a beat- your’re grinning.

“crystal jellyfish make you itch. now these are box jellyfish. one sting and you’re screwed.”

“scary.” touya shakes his head. “i went to this bar opening once-,”

“oh, boy,” you roll your eyes.

“no, just listen. it was supposed to be jungle-themed- they had all these safari cocktails and tropical decor. but in the middle of the room was this pretty aquarium full of exotic jellyfish.”

you clap your hands to your mouth, dread washing over you. “no. don’t tell me-,”

“yup.” touya grimaces. “some drunk idiot stuck his hand right inside and tried to pet the jellyfish. i think he’s suing the bar right now.”

“that’s insane. people are idiots when they’re drunk.”

“that i agree.” touya props his head on his hand, cheekily smirking at you. “so what else in here can kill me?”

you excitedly grab his hand, eyes alight in mirth.

“let’s find out.”

at first, his hand starts against your palm; then it’s laced between your fingers; then it’s wrapped around your waist, pressing into your luscious curves as he gapes at a brilliant red-grey discus fish.

“now that would make some delicious food,” he teases.

“shut up, idiot.”

“what? you’re saying you wouldn’t eat it?” touya playfully pokes your side, causing you to shriek with laughter. “are you really saying no to high-quality, gourmet sushi?”

“it’s not the fish i’m worried about, it’s my stomach. i don’t trust your cooking at all.”

there’s a devilish grin on his face as he looks down at you. “yeah? i’ll prove you wrong. how do you like your eggs made in the morning?”

you roll your eyes, gagging. “oh, is that how you pick up girls at the club?”

“it doesn’t just work on girls. watch.” touya cockily swaggers up to a tank full of darting grey minnows. “hey, there. what do you want for breakfast after i show you the best night of your life?”

“ew, stop it,” you giggle.

touya’s laughing, pointing at the fish and saying, “hey, i think they’re into it, you have some competition-,”

and then a horrified gasp echoes through the room. everyone’s heads jerk around in alarm, finding the cause of the commotion.

“villain!” a small boy screeches, pointing at touya’s scars. “mom, ‘s a villain!”

“rui,” his mother gasps, yanking him away. “i’m so sorry, sir- oh my goodness! dabi!”

touya’s not laughing anymore.

“rui, apologize. do you know who that is? that’s shouto’s brother!”

the boy’s jaw drops. “no way!”

“mhm. would your favorite hero be happy if he heard you being mean to his big brother?”

“i’m sorry, mr. dabi,” the boy goofily smiles.

“my deepest apologies,” his mother swallows, bowing deeply to touya. “i very much appreciate the work you do.”

“no worries,” touya utters. the good-natured humor is gone from his face, replaced with his usual mask of cool indifference.

your stomach’s twisting to pieces as you both leave the exhibit. it’s absolutely silent between you two; you could cut the tension with a knife.

“hey,” you whisper. “i’m sorry about that.”

“i don’t care. it happens all the time,” he drawls.

your melancholy intensifies.

this whole time, you pegged touya todoroki as nothing but a degenerate. a rich party boy whose powerful quirk carried him to adoration and success. he was the poster boy for hero culture: a handsome, cocky fire user who’d been so dedicated to growing stronger he’d nearly destroyed himself.

you hadn’t thought of all the consequences.

“come here,” you murmur, pulling him through the crowded halls. he’s frowning, calling, “hey, where are we going?” as he maneuver him through a door.

“what the- whoa.” touya stops dead in his tracks.

you’re in a pitch-black room covered with radiant bioluminescent light. electric-blue eels glide across the dark walls; candy-pink starfish glow against the glass of their tanks. it’s all so stunningly beautiful; and judging by the amazed look on touya’s face, you can tell he thinks so, too.

“this is my favorite place in the aquarium,” you whisper, holding his hands in yours. “i come here when i’m feeling down. on those days when i think i’m the most hideous thing in the world, and i want to curl up in a ball and hide.”

“but why?” touya questions. “you’re the most gorgeous girl i know. when have you ever felt that way?”

and it’s his small, quiet voice that gets you. because he isn’t saying this in a flirty way, or as a sleazy pick-up line. he genuinely believes you are the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“i’ll let you feel something,” you murmur.

under the cover of the darkness, you are able to take his scarred fingers, move them up your dress to your hips. he slowly glides over your soft, raised stretch marks, hands trembling anxiously.

it’s so intimate; you’re cupping his rough cheeks in your palms, swallowing as he kneads the fat of your waist, the plush softness of your thighs.

your breath quickens along with his- gently, you rest your head against his arm, eyes fluttering shut as touya needily takes more.

“the first time i came here was after a doctor’s appointment,” you mumble. “it was just... awful. and stressful, and shitty, and i left feeling so bad about myself. i just wanted a place to be alone. surrounded by something i love.”

“i love this place,” touya breathes. he draws your hands out from under your dress, pulls you into a comforting embrace. “i might just have to take it from you.”

you let out a huff of amusement. “it can be our place. didn’t you ever learn to share?”

he smirks, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “not the important things.”

touya’s lips are rough, coarse, but his kiss is so soft. for a pro-hero with a reputation for being a troublemaker, he holds you like you’re made of glass, pretty and delicate and precious. like he’s scared to ruin you. his hands gently caress your hips as he holds you close, tongue sliding through your parted mouth.

“sorry,” he breathes after bumping his teeth against yours. “i’m nervous.”

you blink up at him in confusion. “nervous?”

“yeah. i, uh,” touya coughs. “may have had a crush on you for months.”

“what? but- wha- i’m not even your type!”

“how?”

“i don’t know.” you fidget with your foot, eyes downcast. “because you’re popular and stuff, and i’m... you know.”

“popular? you know everyone at the office loves you, right?” touya chuckles. “just because you’re not as loud as keigo and i doesn’t mean that people don’t like you. the reason sero, tamaki, and nejire started reading again is because they saw you freaking out over a book.”

“wait, what? what book? they saw that? that’s so embarrassing!”

“no, it’s cute.”

“i just-,” you swallow. “are you sure this isn’t some sort of joke?”

“hey, if you don’t like me, it’s fine,” touya laughs, but there’s something forced in his tone, something nervous and scared. “i’m not the greatest-looking guy. i won’t take it personally-,”

“no, you dummy! it’s because i feel like i’m one of those movies where the cool guy asks the nerdy girl out on a bet!”

“what? there are movies like that?”

“i-,” you blink up at him in shock. “have you never seen she’s all that?”

“that can be our first date, then.”

“touya.” your eyes are wide, anxious. like you can’t believe he’s standing in front of you right now, being so blatantly honest about his feelings. “are you sure?”

he gently presses his forehead against yours. “promise.”

for a moment, a tense silence hangs in the air. touya’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

and then your face splits into a bright smile.

“we can go watch some 90s romcoms, then.”

“dude, finally!” keigo exclaims, grinning when he sees his hand intertwined with yours. “it’s about time you asked her out.”

your jaw drops. “wait, you both knew?”

“he was so obvious about it,” mirko snorts. “he spent half the time in the office just staring at you.”

“and talking about you when he got drunk,” keigo adds, rolling his eyes.

“shut up,” touya growls, heat rising in his cheeks. “did you both even look at the animals? this place is fucking awesome-,”

“excuse me.”

touya turns. the old man from the tropics exhibit is standing behind him, accompanied by a few stray passerby.

“hey, your advice worked,” touya says, raising your locked hands.

“what?” you frown.

“we saw what happened in that exhibit,” the man smiles gently. “children can be cruel. but we all wanted you to know that you are an incredible man.”

“yeah, i was there when you blasted those villains in shinjuku!” a freckled teenager pipes up. “it made me want to go pro!”

“can i get your autograph?” a little girl pipes up.

an incredulous look flickers across touya’s face.

and then his lips spread into his handsome, rugged smile- the one that graces billboards and instagram fan accounts alike.

“oh, we’re definitely coming back here,” he murmurs to you.

“told you it was the best.”

—

if you want to commission a piece, check out my ko-fi + commissions page!

firefighter!ichigo who met his pretty wife by saving you from a burning building. You never thought you would meet your husband in such a devastating situation, a day where you thought you were going to die but if wasn’t for Ichigo, you would have been dead.

firefighter!ichigo who made sure to keep in touch with you on a personal level because even when you were covered in dust and dirt, you were still as beautiful as ever when he carried you out from the burning fire. 

firefighter!ichigo who looked even sexier out of uniform, took you on little dates and really made a lot of efforts to get to know you. Ichigo just had a feeling in his stomach and a voice in his head telling him to make you his and he was eager to make you the mother of his children. 

firefighter!ichigo who wasted no time breeding your pussy anytime he got. Ichigo was an anytime-and-anywhere type of guy. Ichigo ate your pussy like a starving man that never had a meal a day in his life. Ichigo loves going back to the house on his lunch breaks to have lunch with and eat pussy but mostly just spend time with his baby girl.  

firefighter!ichigo who took the risk and fucked you on the firefighter truck because you wouldn’t stop asking him about it and Ichigo could almost never say no to you so either way you were going to get what you wanted in the end. 

firefighter!ichigo who ended up becoming a dilf when you had his daughter, she was a splitting image of ichigo, she had your melanin of course but she took that man's whole face. 

firefighter!ichigo who told you not to work anymore and come stay with him in his nice beautiful family home that was closer to his job so he can make sure you guys were safe. It wasn’t a bad idea either, those were shopping centers near the house, and with Ichigo always giving you money to go shopping for you and your baby girl there was nothing to really complain about. 

firefighter!ichigo who was in love with your post-pregnancy body and you swore it made him even more hornier for you by the second. This one time Ichigo and you fucked so hard when your daughter Isla was with your mother that your wig was practically unrecognizable and the straight backs under your wig cap were sweating. You were so mad at Ichigo but he promised you two new wigs to make you feel better about your fucked up wig. 

firefighter!ichigo who had all his coworkers jealous that he had such a pretty family and he would talk about you guys every chance he gets because he’s proud of his pretty wife and his pretty daughter and what he worked for.

have a request? they are open :)

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Imagine toji leaving the room after about 4 rounds and comes out with a full motorized scooter. “Y/n where the fuck did you hide my scooter, you know my legs are ancient artifacts these days.” @violxtbxbyy @kazushawty

I woke up in a new bugatti 👨🏽‍🦼💨💨💨💨

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓

pairing: professor! nanami kento x chubby reader

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

warnings: cunnilingus, dubcon, prof! nanami is a pervert, university au, reader is adult.

a/n: it's definitely @starrbright fault for letting this thirst rot in my brain.

synopsis: he finally indulged himself into something and unfortunately, it's you.

it's not so long before professor nanami have given up to his urges to his good student and now you're sprawled out in his desk, his head between your thighs.

"s-sir, i—" before you can finish your words, a harsh suck in your clit steal a mewl out from you. it's wrong. it's not right to be at this position with your professor. eating you out at his desk but nanami seems to ignore. not minding of someone walking in the middle of this session with you. he's lax and you're scared but it doesn't stop your cunt from gushing all over his tongue.

oh fuck. what was he doing? it might cost him his job and license if he get caught while doing this to his student but you look so tempting, begging to be his and taste so amazing. seated in his chair while you're on his desk. your lower clothes in the desk below him.

nanami swipes his tongue to your folds and he swallows, groaning at the taste of your pussy in his mouth before going back to you again, flattening his tongue and he looks up. Peering at you in such lust state, you're biting your lips, trying to cover your pretty moans and the way your breathing seems to get shallow. it encourages him more to give you the utmost pleasure.

you're soft down here too, he thought. nanami did get lucky with you. he deserves it. from the sleepless nights to a mountain work of grading papers. it's a reward and he'll claim it.

he watches in amusement as your thick thighs squish in his table, the roughness of his palm contrasts to the creaminess of your thighs and it felt good. his hands massaging the skin there while his tongue laps in your soaked folds.

your shirt riding up and shows the skin there and nanami is mesmerized to see your stomach fold, the love handles begging to be touched and he watch ripple as you grind your hip closer to his mouth unconsciously.

nanami stops licking your fat cunt, occasionally nips your thighs before slowly inhaling your scent. his hands grabs yours and places it in his head. encouraging you to hold his head while eating you out. feeling your fingers run in his blond locks. nanami pressed his lips into your cunt once again.

the way you grip your hair sends nanami into overdrive. his licks getting intense than it already was. you dared look in the man between your thighs, your professor nonetheless and it was fucking embarrassing. seated in his desk and thighs around his head.

you didn't know your professor has been lusting for you for so long. you weren't anything special but fuck did it feel good. the fear of being caught and the small stimulation of his tongue mixing with your nerves and it made your stomach twist in anticipation.

nanami meets your gaze and he can only smirk under your cunt. his good student above him while tasting your juicy cunt made him dizzy. fuck this job he hates but there's always a silver lining in his endeavors, you.

with every lick he can feel your pussy clench and nanami did want to taste you deeper so he did. his tongue thrusting into your hole. the spasm of your cunt in his tongue and you unconsciously grinding into him, god, does he love this and he thinks of doing this with you before class and after class. a motivation worth lasting for his shitty job. you on his desk or he could be checking papers with his cock buried to the hilt in your fat pussy.

darting your gaze away from him, your blond professor slaps your thigh, making you look at him again with a gasp. his watch that's worth more than your tuition glints in the room. he steals another moan from you again when you can feel him swirling his tongue around you. his mouth completely engulfed in your cunt and your thighs quiver in his ministrations.

you can feel the tears welling up in your thighs and a choked moan caught you by surprised when he particularly brushed a certain spot inside you and nanami did notice your reaction and his tongue assaulted that spot and with that your fingers grips his hair roughly. too lost not to care wether you have pulled a few strands of his hair.

his nose bumping in your clit and the more juices flowed out of you, nanami can feel it you were getting close. such indulgence will bring him down but he doesn't care. he wasted too many chances to get an interaction with you and with his current situation he's savoring it all the way he savor the essence that's dripping out in you.

he was taken aback when you suddenly clamp your legs tightly around his head and your hips rolling in his and smothers your cunt deeply in his face, made his cock twitch. desperate to come in his face, nanami eagerly licks your pussy. his grip in your butt cheeks holds like vice.

with one harsh suck you came undone. the knot in your stomach bursting and it made you cry in euphoria. while relishing in your release, nanami continues to lap the juices out of you. slurping it with such want and he burns the taste in his tongue. memorizing the taste in his mind which he'll have in many. he helps you ride out your orgasm and he was more than satisfied. after he cleaned you up, he presses his lips into your thighs.

standing up, nanami waited for you to catch your breath, watches your chest heaves with breathing from the orgasm he just gave you.

he can see a tear rolling in your cheeks and fuck you look beautiful this close.

nanami holds your chubby cheeks with hands before crashing his lips with yours. heavenly. it was the first word that came in his mind whilst kissing you. your fist holding his tie while he puts his hand behind your head. deepening the kiss and he swipes his tongue across you lips which you gladly opened for him.

he didn't waste a second in engulfing your warm mouth with his. heads tilting to just feel the emotions being shared with each other.

oh, you can taste yourself in his tongue and you broke the kiss. shame filling up in your body. what happened between your professor beyond forbidden. you felt embarrassed.

nanami holds your face in his hand and he can see more tears rolling down in your cheeks, your face holding clear evidence of embarrassment and shock.

"i-i'm sorry, sir. i understand it was heat of the moment and i-i....."

nanami was baffled at what you were saying, heat of the moment and dread courses through him. he just coaxed his student in engaging this unwanted experience with him but you both wanted it right? and he believed that.

"ssh. it's alright." he comforts, his hair still disheveled from the way you were pulling it earlier.

"no! it's not!" you were beyond incoherent, trying to find the right words but none of it came to your mind.

nanami only hugs you, your head on his chest while calming you down and you seem to be calmer. you breath in his scent, for some reason it eases your nerves but it doesn't stop the guilt from what happened.

you gently pushed him away, gathering your discarded clothes below his desk, wiping the tears in your eyes before putting your pants.

"goodbye, sir." you mumbled before running through the doors and nanami stands there dumbfounded.

did he just fucked up? of course he did. and just like eve, everything was doomed but nanami was willing to risk it all for you.

it was too late to catch you up, tomorrow he'll see you again. not that you'll be absent. nanami knows you'll be attending his class tomorrow and that's a relief, for now. he'll fix himself up.

his hands running through his blond hair which you were gripping earlier and it felt good. he can still taste you on his mouth and he's thirsty again. you're like water that can never quench his thirst.

but the only good thing for now, is he have your panties in his pocket and he'll hold on for it until you came back to him.

Okay but.... imagining myself breathless, lying into the pile of pillows only to be asked, "wanna clean it off for me" as they dangle the dripping strap above my lips.

Maybe even a "good girl, just like that" as I breathlessly lap my tongue around it, cleaning it just as they wanted while they have that smug look on their face.