U Kiss Isagi In The Parking Lot And Now Yall Have To Stay In The Car For 20 Mins Till His Dick Goes Down

shoko in her twink era

Reblog if you're bisexual and sleepy

There’s no way reo’s mom doesn’t hate you the first few years (at least) that youre with him. She doesn’t think your good enough to be with her son but Reo doesn’t give a fuck about her opinions. Keeps bringing you to family dinners and makes a show of kissing you passionately in front of her bc he loves you and he’s sick of her treating you like you don’t exist

sunarin + hiding their face in the other's neck 🙇‍♀️

you told him you didn't want to watch this movie. "but it'll be fine," he said. "you know it's fake blood, don't you?"

fake blood or not, the movie's 'killer' hopping out of the shadows was enough for you to hug rintaro against your chest, torso fully turned toward him instead of the tv. you clenched your jaw, heart racing, as you curled into his chest which, suspiciously...

"were you waiting for me to get scared?" you gasp.

you earned yourself a side-eye from your boyfriend. the very same boyfriend whose arm wrapped around you the second you shuffled closer, who rolled his shoulders until you leaned your head against him.

guilty is what that looks like to you, and his unwillingness to admit it convinces you.

"you were," you pressed, jabbing him in the side with your elbow. "you're so mean; scaring me just so i'd cuddle you."

"you're missing the movie," he complains half-heartedly, but he's already turning toward you to poke your nose. "and you're not that scared."

"i'm plenty scared."

"yeah? prove it then."

as if on queue, a character in the movie screams and you gasp again; this time, it's not to tease rintaro, but because your stomach jumps into your throat and you jump into your boyfriend's lap.

breathlessly, you swat at him. he dodges, because of course he does. "you planned this."

with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, now, rintaro buries his face in your neck, and you feel a smile against your skin. "yes i did."

send an ask with a number from this list + a hq character and i’ll write a snippet!

Impending, part 1

Matsukawa Issei x afab reader

Word count: ~1.1k

Tags & warnings: a bit of drinking, eventual smut (in the next part)

Note: Oops, this was supposed to be 500 words of porn without plot but now it’s going to be a multi-part porn with feelings. I’m the only one who didn’t see that coming. Here you go mica :* @princesskazuya

“Thought I’d find you down here. Mom and dad want you to make an appearance before grandma has to leave.”

Hiro grunts, eyes glued to the television where Princess Peach is gaining on Wario.

“Oh. Hey Issei.”

Unlike Hiro, he greets you in response, sidelong glance lingering for just a moment before returning to the tv.

You make your way down the rest of the basement stairs to flop onto the ratty old couch behind them, beer swishing at the movement. The boys lay side-by-side, splayed out on their stomachs on the carpeted floor. They’re both so tall now that they barely fit between the couch and the tv all stretched out like this. It makes it hard not to think about the last time you saw them together. They used to be the same height as you and so scrawny, bony limbs poking out of baggy t-shirts and gym shorts. You could’ve taken them both in a fight, easy — and more than once you did.

But if you thought Hiro’s grown … Somehow Issei got even taller than your brother. Bigger too.

In the lead now, Princess Peach rounds the bend for the last lap. Wario is slowly closing in after an unlucky shell shot sent him tumbling off a cliff.

You tuck one leg under the other and sip your beer. Their bottles sit forgotten on the table as they jostle for the lead. What’s happening on screen is not much different from what’s in front of you as they try to knock the controller out of the other’s hands, shit-talking and shoving each other aggressively.

By the time they’ve reached the last quarter of the track, they’re just full-on wrestling. You hurriedly pull your other leg up out of harm’s way and snatch up their beers so they don’t get knocked off the table. The other racers pass by as they grapple in earnest — Hiro’s laid out on top trying to put Issei in a headlock but Issei hunches over, arms bulging as he grabs Hiro’s thigh and flips him onto his back with a thud.

You just roll your eyes.

They’ve always been like this — rowdy and obnoxious. You’d think more boys would make things more chaotic, but their other friends somehow kept them in line when they all hung out together. When it was just the two of them, they were a way bigger pain in the ass.

“Takahiro, get up here!” A muffled yell comes from upstairs.

“Dad’s calling for you.”

When they don’t stop fighting, you kick Hiro hard in the ass. “Hey!”

“Ow! What the fuck?” Hiro kicks back, missing you by a mile.

“Dad’s calling for you,” you repeat.

“Ugh,” he grumbles and pushes himself up off the floor, still catching his breath. He grabs his half-finished beer out of your hand and flips you off before heading upstairs. “Don’t touch my game.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to win for you,” you call after him.

“I said don’t touch it!”

“No promises!”

When you turn back, Issei is already holding up Hiro’s controller, one thick eyebrow raised and a wicked grin on his face. You mirror his grin.

A whiff of something clean and citrusy tickles your nose when you lean forward. It freezes you in place for a split second before your brain kicks back into gear, trading his beer for the controller and settling back comfortably cross-legged.

“Ready to get wrecked?”

It used to be so easy to rile them up. Issei just chuckles at your taunt now. Sitting up, he pulls down the shirt that’s ridden up his stomach in the tussle, covering the churn of muscle underneath. His shoulder brushes against your knee as he leans back against the couch. His hair has gotten longer, resting in easy waves atop his head. From this angle, the light catches the sheen of sweat on the back of his neck where a few curls lay plastered against his nape. This close, you can smell the salty tang of sweat sneaking through the cologne.

“You remember how to play?” The bass of his voice rumbles through you. That’s new too.

You startle when he twists around to look up at you through hooded eyes.

It’s cool down in the basement, perfect for escaping the heat of the afternoon, but you’re out of the frying pan and into the fire it seems because he’s practically laying his sweaty torso in your lap, one elbow draped over your thigh, his heavy bicep propped on you…

“Yeah, I remember.” Your voice comes out like a purr instead of a sting and he smirks.

You straighten up, shoving his arm off you. “Just hurry up.”

His eyes dart down to your chest with a hum and he scrutinizes you one last time before turning around. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else before he starts the race.

Hiro clomps back downstairs just as you cross the finish line. You’d eked out a win, barely. Mostly because you got lucky with the items. Without a word, Hiro plucks the controller out of your hands and resumes his earlier position on his stomach. Issei makes no move to join him. Instead, he plants a palm on your knee to push himself up off the floor and sinks down next to you on the couch.

You keep your eyes trained on the tv, not on him, and not on his hands. Not on his long fingers or the size of his palms.

Your senses become distinctly attuned to his proximity and the itch of his leg hair against your skin with every slight shift. You swipe through your phone wondering if it’s a distraction for him too.

“Anything catch your interest?”

A breathy murmur against your neck makes you jolt. The last race has already ended and they’re waiting for the next to start. When you turn, he’s only a hair’s breadth away, expression hesitant but goading.

Hiro yawns and you’re suddenly reminded of where you are.

You push Issei off and spring to your feet.

“I’m going to grab another beer.”

Matsukawa lets out a low groan as you scurry toward the stairs.

“What?” Makki twists around to look at him, then follows Mattsun’s line of sight up the steps until his eyeline hits the back of your thighs. “Gross, dude. Stop that.”

“No.”

“Fuck you.”

DEI does not mean lower standards.

You are thinking of white privilege.

different types of kisses w hq men !

good night kisses - kita, akaashi, atsumu, TSUKI, sakusa, hinata, bokuto, oikawa, suga & osamu

kisses in which, you've already said goodbye but he can't help stealing another one. - OIKAWA, kuroo, atsumu, matsun, SUNA, hanamaki, daichi & kunimi

kitchen counter make-outs - ATSUMU !!, kuroo, suna, oikawa, IWAIZUMI, sakusa, meian, ushijima & aran

soft kisses while cuddling in bed - kenma, tsukishima, osamu, atsumu, sakusa, tendou, bokuto & kageyama

i missed you kisses - oikawa, suna, atsumu, kenma, sakusa, ushijima, kageyama, MATSUN, hinata & sugawara

a kiss on the cheek that turns into a kiss on the lips - KUROOO, akaashi, iwa, ushijima, yamaguchi, osamu & komori

one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other. - suna, ATSUMU, sakusa, KAGEYAMA, tsukishima, kuroo, IWAIZUMI !!!, meian, romero, daichi & matsun

top of head kisses - SAKUSA, tsuki, kuroo, ushijima, meian, AKAASHI, sugawara, daichi, semi & iwa

I think people have talked at length about the fact that bnha ended up basically being super pro-cop and delivered nothing on its narrative critiquing hero society. but one thing I haven't seen commentary on yet is how bizarre the narrative on abuse is. bnha is a series where abusive father figures (e.g. endeavor, overhaul, shigaraki's father) and neglectful parents (e.g. toga's family) have been the origin for marginalization of children and, in the cases of the league, their eventual descent into actual crime and villainy. yet the single most prominent abusive father figure of the series (endeavor) got a redemption arc, while the second-most prominent abusive father (overhaul) got to survive. yet the children who suffered abuse (toga, shigaraki, touya) were not worthy of redemption nor even survival. it has very bleak implications on who gets a second chance in life and who doesn't. this is possibly the worst narrative on childhood abuse I have ever consumed btw lol

ok but lazy makeouts with suna?? you and rin are sitting together and so close that suddenly you're kissing and rin doesn't even remember who started it because all he can think about is how pretty your sighs are and how sweet you tastes.. and then he's pulling you up onto his lap and running his hands down the curve of your back and your fingers are in his hair and your body is pressed up against him and all he want to do is stay there forever, kissing and worshipping you that makes your head spin.

SAY MORE ABT DAD NANAMI W SWIM TEACHER READER RN !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘kay!

minors & ageless blogs dni, i am an 18+ blog!

gn!reader, one mention/reference to drowning, no powers au, single dad nanami au, nanami is oblivious (or is he)

"excuse me."

you almost drop the teetering pile of foam bubble belts you're carrying.

actually, you do drop them. it's just that nanami kento—father of one and the oblivious bachelor of the year for the entire swim school despite his blunt demeanor—catches them without pause. his bicep flexes with the movement, the muscle rippling beneath his skin.

you swallow.

(your friends all grumble about how lucky you are to have little yuuji in your class.

you are not lucky.

yuuji is darling. you always hear him calling out a delighted, chirpy 'hi!' to everyone he passes before his little head of hair—the soft pink of still-ripening strawberries—pops into view. he's got a smile like the sun and an energy output to match. you think he could probably power a small city.

but lucky people do not have to try and keep a handful of young children from drowning as they learn to swim while nanami kento is busy being attractive by just existing, raking a big hand through his damp golden hair until it feathers out, gleaming beads of water trickling down the thick column of his neck to pool in the dip of his clavicle.

you should have been a camp counselor, you think miserably, looking away from his broad form just in time to catch the kickboard that's rocketed out from under nanase, a powder blue foam missile. at least then the parents keep their shirts on.)

"sorry. i didn’t mean to startle you,” nanami says. he’s acquired stickers since you last saw him, the bright little stars sprinkled across his cheeks like neon freckles. you suspect that yuuji has matching ones.

"it’s okay, nanami. thanks," you say, reaching out for the belts. "for uh, catching those. i just rinsed them, so—"

he brushes your hands away gently, adjusting his grip so he has a better hold on the belts. “i wanted to speak to you.”

“okay—what about?” you ask, your hands lingering before you let them drop to your sides awkwardly.

“i’d like to know which of your coworkers conduct private swim lessons and of those, who you feel would be the best match for yuuji.”

“oh.”

nanami’s brow raises a bit. he examines you for a beat, his umber eyes keen. “you know yuuji’s skill level better than anyone,” he tells you. “and i assume you know which of your coworkers would do best with his personality.”

“i find it hard to believe that there are people who don’t do well with yuuji’s personality,” you say.

his lips quirk into a tiny smile. it’s small, but you’ve learned to catch them over the last few months, those little flashes of contentment. of pride. he briefly glances back to where yuuji is chattering at his friend megumi.

(even your boss had commented on how yuuji managed to pry stoic little megumi out of his shell.

having witnessed it firsthand, you’re not sure that ‘pry’ is the right term. it reminds you more of when seagulls smash clams against the shoreline rocks to break their shells open. megumi never stood a chance against yuuji’s weaponized sunshine.)

you reach out for the belts again, desperate for something to fidget with as that hint of a smile melts through you. nanami gives you half of them; you don’t bother to protest. it’s not the first time he’s helped you put things away after class has finished. 

“true,” nanami concedes. “but yuuji can be difficult to keep up with.”

“i guess,” you say, tugging at your lower lip with your teeth.

for a breath, you think nanami’s eyes drop to your lips. but you blink, and he’s simply looking at you, waiting for a response.

“yahaba would probably be best, i think,” you say softly. “she’s a great teacher. yuuji’ll like her. she likes to play games with her students a lot.”

“thank you,” nanami says. “it’s appreciated.”

“sure.” you bite your lip again, fidgeting with the edge of your swimsuit. “do you have concerns about what i’m teaching yuuji?”

he blinks. “no. have i indicated that i do?”

“no, i just—i know it’s come up that i offer private lessons too. of course you don’t have to use me, it’s completely up to you, i understand if you want someone else to teach him, but the group lessons don’t end for another few months, so i guess i wanted to be sure that you felt like he was learning? in case that’s why you wanted to go with someone else instead of me. that’s—that’s all.”

“ah,” nanami says. it’s almost a hum, the word rumbling low in his chest. if he was anyone else, you would say he looks faintly pleased. “no, i have no concerns. i wouldn’t have kept yuuji in the class if i had any.”

your cheeks burn. “oh.”

“it’s simply that i don’t start personal relationships with people i employ,” he says, matter-of-fact. “which means that hiring you isn’t an option, because then i couldn’t ask you to get dinner with me once the group lessons have ended.”

you drop the bubble belts again.