kiki 🔮

synopsis: sleepy sex with mirio

pairing: pro!mirio togata x fem!reader

a/n: mirio mirio mirio mriomrironkasfoi mmfgghhh...wrote this while actively falling asleep #miriofatcockagenda

divider cred: @cursed-carmine

Mirio’s so perfect. So handsome under you as his fat cock fills you up, repeatedly fucking that gummy spot inside of you that makes you drag your nails down his chest and have your eyes roll back.

He’s such a sweetheart, a giver in every sense, a true hero. That’s why it’s so hot when he gets like this, big hands wrapping around your hips so he can do the work for you, his pretty face scrunching up at the feeling of you around his length. Having sex with Mirio feels like having a gift bestowed upon you. Something about the fact he was letting you see him in a light that no one else got to see. It feels like he’s giving a part of himself to you.

“Th-there we go, sweetheart…so good..” he gasps out, his pace consistent with each one of his heavy thrusts.

“You feelin’ good, beautiful?” He whispers softly, gazing at your face, your jaw dropped, your head slightly tilted back. “Mmm…?” He hums when he doesn’t get a response from you, smiling fondly, knowing.

“Nghhh…mhm..Mir..Mirio..” you mumble out softly, letting out a whine as his calloused thumb goes to rub at your puffy clit.

“That’s me, baby. I gotcha..” “Jus’ let go for me, mm?”

It doesn’t take long for your body to listen, shuddering above him as his name leaves your mouth, choked out and breathless while your hips buck in little bursts.

“Good girl, beautiful…good job..” “Just a little more for me, yeah?” He asks, the pace of his thrusts speeding up, sloppy and desperate as he chases his own release.

“Oh..oh god..” he pants, kind eyes staring into yours like he’s begging for it. “Oh..honey, mmffghh..nnagh..!” He groans as he cums, hips holding themselves deep inside of you, like he’s sure you’ll have it all. That you’ll have him all.

Huh. Maybe having sex with Mirio really is like receiving a gift.

synopsis: tamaki loves doing things for his wife

pairing: pro hero!tamaki amajiki x wife!reader

word count: 686

tags/warnings: fluffy domestic moments w/tamaki, established relationship, dogging on husbands who don't help their wives

a/n: so so so many thoughts ab pro!tamaki....the shorter hair, the general aura of confidence he has now..mmffghh..i just feel like he'd be the best husband ever and that the acts of service way of communication he developed in his youth would carry into his adulthood....dont get me wrong, shy tamaki is cute, but self-assured tamaki is sooo attractive #QUOTEME

divider cred: @cursed-carmine

Tamaki loves doing things for you. He really does.

There’s not much in the world that’s more fulfilling to him than doing things for you. He never understood when he heard other husbands complain about chores or being called on to do tasks by their wives. Why would you be? He thought.

That was simply because Tamaki lived to see you carefree, relaxed and happy with as much of the world off your shoulders that he could afford to take from you. It made him beam with happiness, a warm fuzzy feeling of contentment that only grew when you’d pad up to him, throw your arms around his shoulders and give him all the praise he could ask for.

It’s always been this way. Even back at UA when he was a hell of a lot more shy and lacked the confidence he has now. He supposes that was how he communicated with the people he cared about, how he communicated with you specifically.

Tamaki makes sure he can do stuff for you. During his breaks while on patrol he thinks of what can be done around the house. Maybe he’ll be getting home late that night; then he’ll be sure to unload the dishwasher so you won’t have to do it the next day. Maybe when he goes home he can stop by the convenience store to pick up some face wash for you and restock on the toothpaste you guys are running out of. Maybe he’s got a day off, so he’ll repair that door hinge you were saying you might do yourself since you “don’t want to give him more work.” (He knows you might scold him a little for that one, but you’ll be grateful—and that’s why he does it!)

Tamaki is never too exhausted to help you out. He thinks that it would be outrageous to say so, not when you’d be doing it all anyway on top of caring for him. That’d be a selfish cop-out. Tamaki’s not like that—he’s got some class, unlike the executives he spends his work life around.

The smile on your face is enough for him. You’re just so beautiful. Everytime he does something for you it acts as a simultaneous reminder as to why he does it. He fucking loves you. Tamaki is obsessed with you. You rank so high when it comes to what’s important to him. His best friends know it all too well. A pair of cuties—you two.

“Tamaaaa…” you call out for him as you step into the apartment, hearing him hum back. Your keys jingle in your hand as you slip off your heels, sighing as you breathe in the cool, air-conditioned space.

“I’m here, hon’.” He says, appearing from around the corner.

“Oh..! You are home…” “I didn’t know if you would be..” you slur out sweetly, shuffling over to him.

Tamaki laughs softly, hands finding your waist as he squeezes gently, letting you cup his cheeks.

“I told you I would be..” he says, all muffled by you squishing his cheeks.”

“Mmm…I must’ve forgot..”

“Then you must’ve…all tipsy and off your feet, hm?” He teases, eyebrows raising.

“Hey…’was girls night..” you whine, hands falling to hug him instead.

“Mmm..I know..” he chuckles, picking you up.

As Tamaki carries you to the bedroom, he’s already grinning at the thought of pampering you. It’s never work for him when it’s for you. It’s nothing he can’t take, it’s far less taxing than what he experiences on the job almost daily.

And so the rest of the night goes on that way. Tamaki takes off your makeup. He bathes you, peppering kisses over past marks and laughing at your drunken rambles—confessions of love and stories from tonight.

Tamaki picks from your pile of unfolded laundry (he’ll do that for you tomorrow), your favorite pair of pajamas. He helps you into them, dodging your grabby hands that tell him he doesn’t have to but he knows you well enough that you’ll complain about being cold in the morning.

That’s just how Tamaki is. Responsible, caring, secure. The whole package deal. 

It's funny how grief works. Robert's father grew less present in his life the more entangled himself with his duties as Mecha Man and he used to hate it so much, green with jealousy for something that wasn't even human but impacted the lives of many. The irony of it all. Look where Robert ended up. Distancing himself from everyone, pushing Chase away, letting you go without putting up a fight. The only fight Robert had left in him was fighting as Mecha Man and fighting to keep his family line's pride and joy alive even though he kept failing.

You understood as much as your big heart could, Robert could see that well. He's always known you as an empathetic individual and it was thanks to your company as well as Chase's that he didn't wound up such a troubled child.

Robert didn't think it was cruel when you stepped away, giving him the space he wanted but never explicitly ask for. What was cruel was the way fate dangled you right in front of his face again as the new dispatcher. Wasn't it enough for his family legacy to be questioned on television, or Chase being near death for the sake of his astral pulse? It just had to be you. The one person he dreaded seeing again, plastered with confrontation all over and unspoken conversations.

The anguish hit him first. Because you remind him of his rock bottom. Then came an unfamiliar feeling that made his chest hurt- like his heart was juiced of everything he's ever felt in his life before things went wrong. He was being rewinded back to a decade ago just from getting a glimpse of you.

Lovers Rock .ᐟ.ᐟ

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ✉️# 🎸⭐

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 batboys x rock-star!reader loml @kikisoda goated request once again

╰┈➤ 📎 reader is a bassist ╰┈➤  📎  not  beta  read,  masterlist! thank  you  4  reading  ily  :)

Dick Grayson

One thing dick will and die on this hill for is always attending your practices. You don't expect him to attend your concerts all the time—he was a busy vigilante who can't always travel the world with you, but he made it his life's mission to watch you during practice, late or not. And your band looks for him more than you.

You could be an hour late and they're only trying to look behind you if that 182 inch guy is there holding a plastic bag full of goods, aka snacks and energy drinks. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"He'll be late."

"Tell him to run to the convenience store for us."

Despite all that being said nothing will beat the dopamine of making people wonder why the worlds rock-star is out with Nightwing of all people.

Rehearsal, practice, recording, late night interviews—nothing is stopping this man from walking you home in his full vigilante costume while holding your bass like he owns it.

It's the suspense that the public will never know who you're dating, and how the both of you will never confirm or deny anything. The pride he gets dating the biggest musician while being a well known vigilante is quite a story to tell, and being dubbed the ideal duo will never get old for him—he makes sure you never forget that.

Jason Todd

Jason knew you before your established relationship. He's seen your underground era until the day you were able to go to different places locally or not just to perform gives him a sense of pride of knowing you for so long.

So if you told him a few years back how he'd be dating one of his diehard favorite rock band member he'd probably curse you out and call you schizophrenic.

Now he cant believe he's holding you in his arms, in his apartment.

He's still not used to it, and it's funny just seeing him space out while looking at you, having to speak up just for him to able to snap his thoughts back into place. "Jason?" You hummed patting his cheek lightly. He blinks shaking his head lightly, tilting his head—you really think his pupils dilated even more. "Oh. So this is real."

One of his most favorite moments? Definitely when you sing him to sleep or your guys' small little personal concerts. He knows how to play guitar, you know bass—best believe you guys did a duet at least once.

Just because you're a rock star doesn't mean your vocal range isn't wide. Sleepless nights has you playing his hair, softly singing to Jason while his weight crushes you, and you'll never have it any other way.

"I love you" Jason whispers, snuggling closer to you, his ears filled with nothing but your voice, brain fuzzy and mushy before he finally drifts into a calm slumber.

Tim Drake

Tim definitely has a secret anonymous account just meant for him to make thirst posts about you and show his photography he's taken during your concerts, public sightings, interviews etc etc.

He's genuinely so well known in the community people started speculating who this person was, and who was Tim Drake without being a vague shit. He's posted your bass in his apartment just letting it lay there like it belongs where it is—which it did—and people couldn't stop making theories about it—best week of his life he says.

You can't really complain either because seeing him always taking pictures of you while keeping your lives private was the best entertainment you could ask for.

Your phone has been blowing up since yesterday and you don't even know why.

"People are mentioning me everywhere—what did you do." You shoved his face away, eyes narrowing in the slightest. "I wonder." He giggled out before pulling your wrist away, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You still haven't really found out about the account, Tim hopes you don't—because he really does act like he's in heat with whatever he says there.

And his room is filled to the brim with your bands mech. Posters, vinyls, CDs, if he's missed anything special edition he's going to bother you about it before finally giving in and sneaking him some.

Damian Wayne

Damian can not fathom the thought of being with someone the complete opposite of him—well, that was before he met you. His classical, violin playing nature always made him think he's going to attract the same kind of person—not a rock-star.

He never thought he'd get along with you the first time, standing side by side was like watching heaven and hell unfold—two conflicting sides in a singular room. Not like the interaction was random, son of a billionaire, one of the most well known musicians, now invited to a special occasion. It was bound to happen at least once.

Ever since then he can't seem to stop seeking out for you again. Making tons of excuses just to see you again, paying for you to get a day off just to meet him, anything is pretty much possible with Damian.

Favorite thing of all? When you finally let him play your bass, with your help.

"Stop being so stiff you played the violin, I can assure you this is easier." Damian only tsked, yet following when you told him to relax. He isn't listening, really.

Your warmer hands guiding his colder ones from nervousness as he strum, your soft whispers of 'up and down', your chin laying on his shoulder, he could fully feel your presence while you shifted behind him—he's getting so hot.

"Are you listening?" You questioned, hot breath hitting his neck making him stiffen up—again. "Yes."

this all culminates to one day where he seems to finally give in to his resolutions. even if he’s accepted the fact that he’ll always end up alone regardless of his actions yet because of his actions, he’ll let himself bask in your comfort for once #heh

(X) = Smut The library

jason todd x gn!reader request by @kikisoda ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 mentions of blood and getting shot

‘Happy birthday. I promise I won't call.’

Beep.

It was a complete blur for Jason since he heard your voice through the line, nor does he know why he decided to run full speed instead of using his bike. 

Cool air bit through his skin, that Gotham smell always changing every block he bolted past, but always ranging to grimy moist air filled pollution or rarely enough the distant smell of a café.

Running as if he knew every nook and cranny of the alleyways and its shortcuts, every land of his feet would meet a faint splash of water from yesterday's weather. 

He’s been running for—what? Ten minutes? Ah, why does he care. His ragged breathing from exerting too much energy to move his legs to catch up, sweat continuing to drip down from his temples till his chin, eyes narrowing while his mind wandered to multiple instances of worse case scenarios of what happened to you. 

It was past midnight from what he last saw.

Smells like shit. Laying down in a random alleyway where you got shot was not how you wanted your life to suddenly end.

You're slowly losing too much blood. You could feel continuous liters of red pool beneath you, the smell of vomit you've let out earlier, heart thumping inconsistently, clothes damp, breathing slowing down rapidly, and it's freezing.

Putting pressure on your shot side was futile, you're weak and pale. Body slowly starting to feel cold as sweat continued to form all over your body in attempts to lower your adrenaline. 

Shivering, nauseous, lightheaded, gushing wound, and the only person you've decided to call was that guy.

The noise in your ears only started to ring louder and longer, and—is that running?

With the last ounce of strength you could muster up, turning your head to see Jason rush and kneel to your limp threatening to die body. Hissing when he cupped your face, warm hands a complete contrast to your face thats barely circulating any blood at this point. 

“What happened? You're cold. Don't say anything.” He was rambling to himself while ripping strips of his own clothes to be able to tie you a makeshift bandage hoping it'll be able to keep you opening your eyes for longer. “Ack—!” you let out a pained sound when Jason put far more pressure than you once did earlier. 

“Sorry.” He whispered before placing your hand under his. Staking like that before finally picking you up. Wiping off the spit and vomit that painted the corners of your mouth, watching as your eyes fluttered close. His movements were unprofessional and nervous, he probably couldn't think as well as you could either. 

Jason has done makeshift surgery to himself more than once, so trusting him in this was quite literally the least of your problems. “Move and you’ll make me touch something other than the bullet.” With sanitized tweezers, gloves, and a metal bowl, you averted your gaze.

Teeth and jaw hurting from how much you're trying to not make too much of a noise, holding onto whatever you could to squeeze away whatever agony you've been put through. Tears streaking your cheeks as groans and screams left your lips.

The mattress was soft, yet the towel under you was wet with your own sweat and blood, feeling the cold tweezers pull out that metal bullet far slower than you'd want. 

“Thats it. Just a little more. You’re doing good.”

“C-can you—hurry up.”

It's been hours since you were fully stitched up and bandaged, new clothes that were 100% his. The room still faintly smells of antiseptics, and the glow of the lamp and city only gave light to the dark surroundings that engulfed you both. 

Jason sat beside you the whole time, running his hands through your hair, but to be honest it's more of a jerky movement for him to calm down his stressed nerves since earlier, or—just a reminder you're still here.

“Calling me instead of EMS?” he blurted out. Your half lidded eyes moved to look up at him, voice strained but able to talk nonetheless. “I hate the hospital.”

…

“Sorry for calling on your birthday.”

“Being ashamed of that won't change anything.”

His face slowly gravitated closer to yours, a firm kiss on the lips. Something warm spread through you, and it didn't have to do anything with your wound. You could see his flushed face once he pulled away, that sparkle in his eyes, his warm breath hitting your skin. “Call me again, anytime.”

Everything still hurts, definitely, but this is fine. 

Being with Jason is fine.

jason todd x gn!reader request by @kikisoda ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 mentions of blood and getting shot

‘Happy birthday. I promise I won't call.’

Beep.

It was a complete blur for Jason since he heard your voice through the line, nor does he know why he decided to run full speed instead of using his bike. 

Cool air bit through his skin, that Gotham smell always changing every block he bolted past, but always ranging to grimy moist air filled pollution or rarely enough the distant smell of a café.

Running as if he knew every nook and cranny of the alleyways and its shortcuts, every land of his feet would meet a faint splash of water from yesterday's weather. 

He’s been running for—what? Ten minutes? Ah, why does he care. His ragged breathing from exerting too much energy to move his legs to catch up, sweat continuing to drip down from his temples till his chin, eyes narrowing while his mind wandered to multiple instances of worse case scenarios of what happened to you. 

It was past midnight from what he last saw.

Smells like shit. Laying down in a random alleyway where you got shot was not how you wanted your life to suddenly end.

You're slowly losing too much blood. You could feel continuous liters of red pool beneath you, the smell of vomit you've let out earlier, heart thumping inconsistently, clothes damp, breathing slowing down rapidly, and it's freezing.

Putting pressure on your shot side was futile, you're weak and pale. Body slowly starting to feel cold as sweat continued to form all over your body in attempts to lower your adrenaline. 

Shivering, nauseous, lightheaded, gushing wound, and the only person you've decided to call was that guy.

The noise in your ears only started to ring louder and longer, and—is that running?

With the last ounce of strength you could muster up, turning your head to see Jason rush and kneel to your limp threatening to die body. Hissing when he cupped your face, warm hands a complete contrast to your face thats barely circulating any blood at this point. 

“What happened? You're cold. Don't say anything.” He was rambling to himself while ripping strips of his own clothes to be able to tie you a makeshift bandage hoping it'll be able to keep you opening your eyes for longer. “Ack—!” you let out a pained sound when Jason put far more pressure than you once did earlier. 

“Sorry.” He whispered before placing your hand under his. Staking like that before finally picking you up. Wiping off the spit and vomit that painted the corners of your mouth, watching as your eyes fluttered close. His movements were unprofessional and nervous, he probably couldn't think as well as you could either. 

Jason has done makeshift surgery to himself more than once, so trusting him in this was quite literally the least of your problems. “Move and you’ll make me touch something other than the bullet.” With sanitized tweezers, gloves, and a metal bowl, you averted your gaze.

Teeth and jaw hurting from how much you're trying to not make too much of a noise, holding onto whatever you could to squeeze away whatever agony you've been put through. Tears streaking your cheeks as groans and screams left your lips.

The mattress was soft, yet the towel under you was wet with your own sweat and blood, feeling the cold tweezers pull out that metal bullet far slower than you'd want. 

“Thats it. Just a little more. You’re doing good.”

“C-can you—hurry up.”

It's been hours since you were fully stitched up and bandaged, new clothes that were 100% his. The room still faintly smells of antiseptics, and the glow of the lamp and city only gave light to the dark surroundings that engulfed you both. 

Jason sat beside you the whole time, running his hands through your hair, but to be honest it's more of a jerky movement for him to calm down his stressed nerves since earlier, or—just a reminder you're still here.

“Calling me instead of EMS?” he blurted out. Your half lidded eyes moved to look up at him, voice strained but able to talk nonetheless. “I hate the hospital.”

…

“Sorry for calling on your birthday.”

“Being ashamed of that won't change anything.”

His face slowly gravitated closer to yours, a firm kiss on the lips. Something warm spread through you, and it didn't have to do anything with your wound. You could see his flushed face once he pulled away, that sparkle in his eyes, his warm breath hitting your skin. “Call me again, anytime.”

Everything still hurts, definitely, but this is fine. 

Being with Jason is fine.

Her love is in your head .ᐟ.ᐟ

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ✉️# Batboys and their horrendous nightmare of seeing their lover kiss another man

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 batboys x actress!reader

╰┈➤  📎  not  beta  read,  masterlist!  thank  you  4  reading  ily  :)

Dick Grayson

“Not fair… that should be me.” His voice was muffled against your clothes, face buried between your chest. He was pouting, throwing a tantrum since the last 20 minutes after you guys finished the new show you took part in. Both of you laying down while he laid on top of you, arms encircled around your waist.

Having to kiss your coworker was all a professional business act, you even warned him about it months before while it was in shooting.

A playful scoff left your lips, he was actively avoiding looking back at the screen that continued to play a different movie per his request. “I can kiss better, right?” Dick looked up, batting his eyelashes like he was trying to convince you that he kisses better than someone you met only a few months back.

You blinked confused tilting your head in exasperation “Dick—yes. You kiss better than him.” instinctively leaning back when his face inches closer.

He only stopped jutting his bottom lip out when you kissed him all sloppy, a silver string of saliva connecting his grinning lips and your small smirk. The ghost of his breath mingling with yours “My baby is too pretty for this job.”

He’s witnessed you do this more than once and he always does that thing of squeaking then covering his eyes like a toddler when seeing any of those scenes. Yes he will beg for a kiss after

He’s never shut up since news went around by paparazzies and journalists about you guys being dubbed ‘Blüdhavens hottest couple.’

Dick fully believes it's harder to not crash out seeing you on set with another love interest that's not him than being a full on crime fighting vigilante. He swears he can act with you in a show.

Jason Todd

Dragging Jason out of your own show premiere was the last thing you expected your night to go. You've dragged your boyfriend around with your other premiere projects of course but those roles never really intended for you to have to be intimate with any of your coworkers. Having to make out with your co-star was not on Jason's wants right now.

He never rages or lashes out to you when jealous, albeit he does cry. 

Swerving a sharp turn to the back—somewhere more closed off—cupping his face that still had his evident glare, downward turn of his lips, tense, and furrowed eyebrows while side eyeing your co-star back in the theater. “Don’t cry now…” His brows only crinkle more, eyes starting to get glassy, his lips look like they're starting to quiver. Oh he's so sad and in love with you.

You had to cancel your meet and greet from there on, excusing it as an emergency. Big lie because now you're in bed with Jason. Limbs tangled, hands intertwined, repeatedly kissing his face while murmuring how special he is to you. You guys couldn't be bothered to change, him still in his suit and you in your own formal wear. 

Either that or he’s wiping off your mouth with skin safe sanitation before kissing you the way he deems is better—what you deserve. His kisses were always so feverish when kissing you in front of anyone, let alone the other man whose had his lips pressed against yours from earlier.

Best believe he’s mumbling about how you're too pretty to be kissing a man like that while cupping your jaw tight brining you centimeters closer than before. “He can't handle all of you like I can.”

Jason knew it was all professional at the end, and he promises to support you—even if he’s vibrating from sheer jealousy.

Tim Drake

Being in a role where you have to be intimate with someone is more of a nightmare for you than it is to Tim. 

“It feels like im getting consensually cheated on.”

“Can you not word it like that!”

Well that's what he tries to convince. Every time you tell him about needing to kiss someone for the new movies you're casted in, expect him to do well researched background information to the man you've mentioned. If said man has the most dreadful footprint expect him to yap your ears off about how he’s 100 percent better than the fraud you need to kiss. 

“I don’t get why they keep casting these kind of men! I could probably act better than him with a half assed attempt.” You hummed nodding along to his ongoing tangent that lasts longer than it should, your cheek was pressed against his shoulder while sitting beside one another on the couch. His hands were flying in exaggeration while he kept shitting on your co-star.

“Youve been glaring at that photoshoot for the last 5 minutes, stop.” You plucked the phone Tim has been glaring at, setting it aside on the coffee table. “Did they really have to make a photoshoot of you guys kissing…” He bit the inside of his cheek, hand grabbing onto your wrist slowly pulling you closer.

“Prolly not.” You shrugged before getting pulled into another kiss. He’s suddenly into kissing you every minute now, weird.

And if they aren't a bad person, the second you come back inside the shared apartment his hands are all over your body while telling you how he’s making you forget about any other person than him. 

Damian Wayne

Bringing Damian to your set during your only kiss scene was probably the worst decision ever. 

“Are you sure you're okay with this?” You asked, arms around his shoulders, his on your hip, while your guys’ chests were pressed firmly together. Having some sense of privacy in the comfort of your own backstage area. “Mhm.” He hummed indifferently, though he stiffened before leaning down to kiss your jaw.

He watched—glaring as the scene continued on for two minutes. He knew the facade, how good you were at acting, yet he can't help but narrow his eyes further. Standing next to the director just made it worse after hearing how you’d have to retake this again. 

“Another retake?” 

“Technical issues.”

Since then he’s been overly touchy. Arm around your waist or shoulder, finger holding onto your belt loop, him leaning down whenever he wants to press a kiss. He doesn't admit it or openly tries to show his jealousy, he thinks it’s stupid blaming anyone for something like this—but just know during backstage breaks he’s caging you in with his knee slotted between your thighs while trying to pry your mouth open with his tongue. 

“You're jealous.” You were breathless—panting—yet you wanted to tease him for something he tries so hard not to show. “You’re letting things get in your head.”

He tries to prove another point he’s much better by carrying you princess style out of the building when work is over, your colleagues think he's overprotective and crazy lmao.

Okay, maybe bringing him wasn't so bad.