TEN 🗣️‼️

who’s desperate to please and hates his expressive tail and grips it in his hands with his ears flat to his head

who drools at the sight of you esp when he’s fucking you or eating you out

IF ANYONE KNOWS ANYWAY I CAN GET MY ACCOUNT BACK, PLEASE LET ME KNOW

I was scammed really badly 😓

I'll just put what I was trying to post

I don't even know if this will send, I don't even know if I can come back to tumblr. I was scammed by a girl here that told me I was reported multiple times for fraud and scamming incidents, which I never gotten before.

I followed her instructions and thought I was hooking up with a Tumblr support member on discord.

I had sent 750 to this guy (but I got 250 back.)

After he told me a warrant was going to be sent to my house.

If there is anyway I could get this money back, or get it raised, please let me know.

This was all from my savings account because I was genuinely scared for my life, as I'm literally graduating high school in two days!!!

PLEASE BE CAREFUL AND DON'T MAKE MY MISTAKE AND SAVE YOURSELF

𓏲˚ ۪ ❤︎⊹. ݁ Everyone watch out for this scam going around !! They literally almost got me yesterday .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. !! TUMBLR support will never try to contact you on DISCORD ! Don't send any personal info, do not send any money. 𓐇˚ִִ𓈒 ۫ 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

𓏲ྀི.˳˳.⋅꒰৯ If you can help this person please reach out to them. ೀ

older sister's best friend drummer!ochako uraraka 18+ MDNI!!!

your garage had been your older sister’s band’s practice spot since you could remember, music playing throughout the house at all times of day and night— oftentimes resulting in both her and her friends getting scolded by your mom. with time, your house became the default hangout spot, so it wasn’t unusual to find some of your sister’s bandmates casually lounging around. you basically grew up with them.

and it was probably the most cliché of clichés, getting a big fat crush on one of them— ochako uraraka, the band’s drummer. in your eyes, she had always been the textbook definition of cool, and childish admiration soon turned into something much, much hotter.

you don’t know how long you’ll be able to survive with these barely containable feelings, especially when she just keeps showing up like…this. on your couch, in a tiny top and even shorter shorts to fight the scalding heat of the season. yeah, surely someone up above wanted to kill you today.

“oh, hey y/n!” ochako greets you with a big smile. “wanna watch some tv? i’m sooooooo bored.”

“where’s my sister?” you asked, circling the couch to go grab a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. “don’t tell me she’s still at her boyfriend’s? i though i’d heard her this morning.”

“hm?” she turns around. “hey can you throw me one?” she makes grabby hands at you, and you laugh before tossing a grape in her direction. she successfully catches it, plopping it into her mouth. “—to answer your question,” she mumbles with her mouth full, “she’s going to get kyouka because her car broke down, and since she usueally picks up mina, your sister has to detour to her house as well.”

“jees, she’s getting the full tour of the city,” you snort. “tell me about it,” ochako shakes her head. “i told her she could’ve just told me to come later, but then she said that you were home and could’ve kept me company.”

you raise a brow, skeptical. “did she say that? is she actually capable of saying nice things about me?”

“nope,” she giggles. “she just said you were home, i drew the conclusion from it that you might’ve been good company.” there’s something in the way she says it that makes you falter, heat creeping up your neck, and you pray she doesn’t notice how flustered you became just from her words.

“o-oh…” you shake it off with a chuckle, then try to come up with a way to change the topic. “uhm, i put up that poster you gave me! thanks for that, by the way, it’s so cool and it looks so good. i put it on the wall where my record player is.”

ochako beams at that. “really? would you like to show me?”

oh, how that backfired.

the thought of ochako being in your room has you stalling once more, your brain filled with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be having right now. you realize you’ve been waiting too long to reply when she tilts her head. “s-sure!” you finally croak out. “o-of course, let’s go upstairs.”

“i’m sorry for the mess,” you look over your shoulder as you open the door to your bedroom. “i still haven’t finished unpacking so…yeah, it’s not too pretty.”

you weren’t exaggerating. since coming back from uni, you’ve been grabbing the clothes you wanted to wear directly from your suitcase, uncaringly dropping what you didn’t need on the floor. the only thing you did was putting back up your posters and other decorations, as well as reorganizing your figures and manga volumes on the shelves— it was still very much a work in progress, though.

“don’t worry!” ochako chuckled reassuringly from behind you. “you should see mine, even when i don’t have stuff to unpack.”

rambling is your only way to ignore just how fucking nervous you are at the moment. sure, ochako has been in your room before, but the two of you were never quite alone like this. it was either her, kyouka and mina dropping by to say hi when they came to practice, or to slip you a jell-o shot - or two…or three - during parties.

this…this was much different.

“well, i see you’ve unpacked the essentials only.”

and you’re about to come up with a playful reply before you’re following her line of sight, your face contorting into an expression of pure horror when your gaze falls on the vibrator lying on your unmade bed, only half-hidden by the sheets but still very unmistakably vibrator-shaped.

you want to die.

no, you need to die. like right now, with the floor cracking beneath your feet and sucking you into the depths of the earth.

“ah, uhm…t-that’s…i-i don’t…” you whimpering, overwhelmed by shame as ochako simply looks at you, clearly trying to fight back a laugh as she watches you squirm, not wanting to make you feel any worse. “i-i’m so sorry! this is so embarrassing,” you scramble to the bed, trying to hide it under as many pillows you can, hands shaking as you fumble with them.

ochako can’t hold back, bursting into laughter, doubled over with both hands clutching her stomach. the fact that you look like you’re about to throw up doesn’t help. “oh my gosh, sorry, sorry,” she wipes away a tear. “that’s…that was too funny, sorry. but there’s nothing to be ashamed of! if that makes you feel better, i own a few of those myself, it’s completely normal!”

you’re kneeling on the bed, hand still clutching a pillow as you look back at her. she has toys too? if you weren’t mortified enough before, the image of ochako touching herself is—

“stupid boys weren’t treating you right?”

when did she get on the bed!?

she’s sitting right next to you, so close you can smell her perfume mixed with a bit of sweat from the heat, big brown eyes staring right into yours. rosy lips stretched into a grin. you’re pretty sure she can hear how loudly you gulp.

“ah, t-that’s not—”

“or maybe girls?” she leans in, her nose only a breath away from yours.

your heart shouldn’t be beating so fast, the sound of your own blood thundering in your ears, and you’re not sure if you’re more scared or embarrassingly turned on. “i haven’t, uhm…i-i don’t really…”

admitting that you’re a virgin would surely make you look like even more of a loser. sure, there was some rubbing situation once, with an equally as intoxicated girl who was a year your senior at a party, but nothing more. because that girl wasn’t ochako.

“hm? no one, really? oh, poor girl,” she coos, and the faux sympathy in her voice has your thighs clenching together. “and i’m sure your…friend doesn’t satiate you enough, am i right?”

you can only nod.

“i can fix that.”

and you’re not sure how you end up with your shorts and panties discarded to the floor, shirt bunched up to let your tits spill free, red marks decorating the skin. ochako’s kiss is like a drug, obliterating any rational neuron in your brain and overriding it with something primal and depraved.

“oh, look at her,” she holds your thighs apart, marveling at the thick coat of glistening slick on your cunt, drooling hole clenching around nothing. “already so puffy and needy…no one’s been giving her the attentions she deserves, am i right?”

your chest heaves with panting breaths, ochako’s calloused hands manhandling your thighs is a sight that makes every fantasy you’ve ever had pale compared to the real thing. she isn’t even looking at you, tucking a strand of auburn hair behind her ear to get even closer as she talks to your pussy, breath fanning over your sensitive core as her thumb spreads your folds.

“chako…” you call her name in a shaky whimper, but it quickly turns into a loud sob when three of her fingers come smacking! flat down on your poor cunt. your legs instinctively close shut, but she doesn’t let you, wrenching them open once more. “i wasn’t talking to you,” she chides. “i was talking to her. now, where were we—”

the sound of the front door opening downstairs has the both of your bristling. “ochako? ochako, are you still here? i brought mina and kyouka!”

you almost fall off the bed as you rush to grab your clothes and fix yourself, while ochako calmly gets up and stops on your doorway. “yeah, i was in the bathroom! i’ll be down in a minute!” she turns to you then, making sure you see her putting in her mouth those same fingers that had been coated in your juices only moments ago, licking them clean.

“thanks for keeping me company,” she chirps. “i’ll come by to say goodbye later. don’t miss me too much, ‘kay?”

┊┊a/n. i don't really know how much older ochako is 3 years at best? her and reader are a senior and a freshman in college respectively? dunno man...i wish i could've made this longer but i was revising for my exam the whole day...wish me luck for tomorrow chat :(((

a mha college au feat. DENKI K. & HANTA S.

“ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the chocolate starfish, and the hot dog flavoured water…. BRING IT ON!”

mdni

cw: “HELP!! MY BESTFRIEND WANTS ME TO SUCK HIS DICK SO HE CAN RECORD IT AND SEND IT TO HIS SITUATIONSHIP?!”

wc: 2k

starting track….

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

…….

“dude, you’re fumbling with the thing—”

“—i’m not, s’literally fine—”

“you’re gonna— you’re gonna smudge the cam— oh my god—”

“shit, i dropped it, hold on….”

“…you’re a fuckin’ mess.”

“me?! i’m the mess??? this was your idea.”

sero snatches his phone back from his bestfriend with a half-scoff half-snort. it was a bad idea asking denki to do this, the guy never takes anything seriously.

not that this is serious.

this, this is the funniest thing of the century.

this, this is him proving how fucking petty he can be.

because you, oh god, you’ve been taking the piss. ignoring his messages, acting like you don’t know him when he sees you in public, posting another guy on your story. really? and the dude wasn’t even all that.

he had to get his lick back, obviously.

but he has to be smart about this.

posting himself with a girl wouldn't do anything other than push you further away, and while he does enjoy your little games. he does actually, sorta-kinda like you.

he needed something, something good, something smart, something to make you jealous, but also hot, bothered, and horny.

how could he pass up an opportunity like this, a gift from above, or below, however you wanna look at it, in the form of denki kaminari.

because you're aware, he told you himself, offhandedly, about how he and denki used to fuck. not heavy, just two bisexual best friends, down on their luck, fried as shit, sometimes denki's dick in his mouth was just the natural progression of things, he can't help that.

but he remembers what you had said in reply.

“that's hot.”

and he was tickled, ego stroked, he prodded you further, because what exactly is the hot part, him, denki, both of them together? and you, in your own words said you wouldn't mind watching.

something about, yaoi, hentai, and something else about heated rivalry, and something else that he wasn't fucking listening to, because he was already filing this away for later.

you wouldn't mind watching.

but you’re not here. in fact, he hasn’t seen you for weeks, he thinks you might be mad at him for something he forgot about.

but just because you're not here doesn't mean he's just gonna fuck his fist, and mope about. not when his roommate is the denki kaminari.

the camera flips around.

they’re in hanta’s room, low blue lighting, nu metal on the speaker, loud enough to mask the noise they’re about to make, but not loud enough to distract from the task at hand.

denki’s leaned against the headboard, face lit by the blue light of his phone, probably scrolling on reels.

because sero was right. denki is not taking this seriously, at all. because this is stupid, you and hanta always fight like this, and he has to hear all about sero’s new ‘get back plan’ every fucking time.

at least this time he gets a good fuck out of it.

“hey princess,” the blonde says when he realises the camera’s facing him now. he throws a lazy peace sign at sero’s phone with a grin.

yeah, he’s gonna get a good fuck out of this.

he can already tell. sero came to him with an ‘idea’ which was just cornering him in the kitchen and pressing his boner into the crease of denki’s ass and murmuring lowly in his ear, asking him to come up to his room and ‘help him out with something’.

if he had known then, that he was about to make a sex tape with his bestfriend, he would've oiled up for the camera.

instead he's shirtless, hair tousled, the corner of his shitty sonic tattoo poking out from under his waistband, and emoting like a dickhead.

just before he can do one last bicep flex, the camera flips back round to sero. eyebrow raised in distaste, the piercing catches the flash of the phone, he's rolling his eyes and scratching the corner of his nose.

"anyway," hanta clears his throat, slips back into that stupid fake nonchalant tone he gets when he’s sending you voice messages, “i remember you said you were into that whole ‘yaoi' thing.”

he snorts, like he's mocking you, "me n' denks were gonna bang, so, i figured," he's collapses onto the bed next to denki with no grace or care for where he lands, you can hear denki complain in the background. "why not show you what you're missing?"

he grabs the blonde by the face, squishing his cheeks with his palms and drags his face into the picture. both of 'em cheesing at the phone, with matching hazy eyes and drooping smiles. like ying and yang with equal degrees of swag and stupidity across them both.

denki runs his tongue across his teeth, he’s been waiting for sero to do something for a minute, to touch him, to touch himself, a kiss, anything.

instead sero’s still fumbling with his phone, trying to figure out where’s he’s gonna put it to get the perfect angle.

and denki’s tired of waiting.

“dude,” the blonde’s voice is lower now, softer, two steps away from a whisper. “dude, dude— hanta.”

there’s a shiver that snakes it’s way up sero spine when he hears denki say his name. it’s weirdly intimate, in a way it’s not normally. it scratches an itch somewhere deep in his gut.

denki sighs again, impatient, borderline pouting at the lack of attention. but his gaze is heavy lidded, and his voice is syrupy. “just hold it for now, you can put it down later.”

and sero’s easy. they both know this. that’s why denki takes it upon himself to crawl over to where his best friend is still sat on the edge of the bed.

“you’re thinking ‘bout this too much,” he winks at the camera, hands running up and down the faded material coating hanta’s thighs.

as he curls his fingers around hanta’s waistband, nails gently tracing the exposed skin, “let’s just do what we normally do.”

hanta’s disembodied groan echoes, “yeaaah—ngh, yeah,” denki palming his erection through the fabric, “yeah, you’re so fuckin’ right.”

denki smirks at the shaking camera, because he knows, whenever you watch this, that you’re thinking what he’s thinking.

he traces the tip of hanta’s weeping cock through the fabric, softly, barely there, so easily pulling groans out from his friend. it’s so easy to get sero worked up, a bat of your eyelashes, the promise of a blowjob, he’s already half way to busting.

“hanta,” denki coos again. coy. so fucking coy. batting his pretty eyelashes with that doe-eyed look on his face, of course sero was a goner. the camera is visibly shaking from where he’s trying to keep the screen tilted. the blonde paws at his waistband, “lemme suck you off, real quick, i promise.”

what’s a guy to do?

fuck, he can’t do anything. except gulp, audibly. and nod his head like an overeager puppy.

but denki wants to have fun, why not. isn’t this supposed to be a show, a show for you, something sweet to wash out the bitter taste of the toxicity of your ‘relationship’ with hanta, in the first place.

“that’s not an answer,” slow, syrupy, as he licks his lips, eyes directed at hanta through the phone screen. he’s gone back to featherlight touches.

you both know sero loves this the most.

the build-up, the steady climb upwards. and every breath, every stutter, every sigh, every moan, in between then and now, he inhales all of it. almost like he enjoys this more than actually getting his nut. the act of dangling the pleasure in front of his face, just out of reach but so easily obtainable.

“m’sorry,” he exhales, eyes fluttering at the mere idea of denki’s mouth on his cock, “wan’ you t’suck my—fu-uck—”

shit, he would’ve dropped his phone if not for the burning desire for you to see this too, because denki’s mouth is like velvet.

the fleshy walls of his inner cheeks coax thick dribbles of pre-cum out of hanta’s throbbing cock. that perfect fuckin’ tongue of his glazes the underside in hypnotic waves, and all hanta can do is sit there and take it, let denki make a mess outta him.

it feels disgustingly good as the blonde pools his saliva and spits it right back onto him, that hanta can’t help but whine, low in the back of throat.

it’s a shame you can’t see his face. the way he tips his head back exposing the deep flush that blooms underneath the hickeys layering the column of his throat. his eyes, dark, dazed, and actively rolling back into his head, then fluttering closed, automatic, the puppet strings of his pleasure being pulled taut.

but you’d be able to hear how he hisses, “shii-it,” you’d be able to hear the pants pattering within his lungs increasing in volume every second, and the broken groans echoing in his chest with each bob of denki’s head.

you’d definitely get a clear view of denki. you’d see his mouth stretched around the base of hanta’s cock, bulge pressing against his cheek, visible from the outside, nose flush against the dark hair of his crotch.

and you know exactly what that smells like, if you inhaled now you’d probably still get notes of it. of that musk, the sweet sweat, that thing that is so uniquely hanta, that you could recognise with your eyes closed.

unlike denki, who’s dewey eyes are half lidded and fixed directly onto the camera. he’s a show off, he can’t help it, it just comes naturally to him at times like this. he might be laying it on a bit thick, swollen lips glistening with spit and jizz, eyelashes wet like lily stalks after rainfall. tears beading in his water line. the soft pout on his face as he slaps hanta’s cock against his lips, again, and again, and again.

but the dick-drunk daze in his eyes is real enough.

enough to let you know, whenever you do watch this, that denki’s cock is probably just as leaky as hanta's. in fact, if you're paying attention, you'd be able to see the way his hips roll, ever so slightly, and the friction making his mouth water. every subtle shift is just another drag of his cock against, either hanta's mattress, or, plainly, the material confining him.

either way, it's hot as fuck.

hanta seems to think so, "t-that's it, yeah, all the way into-nngh, shit, just. like. that."

deeper and deeper, all the way down into denki's throat, all the way down—

and that's where the picture goes black. muffled. fuck.

lucky for hanta.

because i doubt he'd want you to hear how wrecked he sounded, how animalistic. or see the primal instincts that caused him to grab denki's hair with both palms, white knuckled grip, and breed his throat. or watch him lose all composure as he forces the blonde to swallow every last drop.

and i doubt denki would've wanted you to see the way he limply accepted it, came back for seconds even, licking up every last spurt of his best friend's frothy cum. or the way he whimpered pathetically when he matched pace, and made a mess all over himself.

or the way he said thank you, afterwards.

or how hanta had grabbed him by the face and yanked the blonde back down on top of him. or how their mouths mashed together, hanta slurping the remnants of his own cum from the crevices of denki's mouth.

and i seriously doubt either one would've wanted you to see the electric current of overstimulation that phased through them both, after their sticky spent cocks made contact, in matching, delicious, pathetic humps.

or the way they spent the next twenty minutes torturing each other with the sensation, twitchy bodies and dazed grins.

…end of playback

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

ermmm… haiiiii thank you for waiting 🫪

ᝰ.ᐟ cw: 18+, suggestive, awkward, playful/gentle teasing, embarrassment, light degradation, namecalling, light flirting, light humiliation (?), touya and shiggy may be a little mean, pervy!fem!reader, pre-relationship, features: kirishima, denki, sero, shigaraki, shoto and touya todoroki ( possibly ooc, don’t kill me, okay ?)

ᝰ.ᐟ synopsis: catching print w/ the boys

ᝰ.ᐟ a/n: multis are hard … sorry if some of the dialogue is hard to see (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞, but i changed my layout once again ! tumblr now has black text instead of purple and i like the way it looks on my enddd yayayay

𐔌 e. kirishima .ᐟ

“you got me, right?”

eijiro’s voice is a little breathless already, shoulders settling against the bench as he adjusts his grip on the bar. you’re right behind him, hands hovering where they should be, close enough to help — but not to touch.

you nod, giving him a quick “yeah! yeah, go ahead,” and he doesn’t hesitate for even a second, he trusts you completely.

his reps start smooth and steady. you’re watching — at first. tracking the bar, his breathing, the rhythm of it. but somewhere in the middle, when he shifts slightly to steady himself, your focus slips. just for a second. your eyes drop without thinking, catching the way the fabric of his shorts pulls and settles with each movement, and before you realize it — you’re staring. not even intentionally, right?

your eyes slip lower to the solid print straining against his gym shorts, thick and unmissable, and you stare at his bulge there, mesmerized by how it fills out the fabric, mentally ranking him high: definitely a girthy one, the kind that'd stretch you just right—

“…you still with me?” he asks, voice strained but light, snapping you out of it as he sits up.

you realize your eyes were glued way too low, staring at his bulge as it moved with him. “y-yeah,” you answer quickly, eyes jumping back up. “you’re good!”

he finishes the set with a sharp exhale, racks the weight, and sits up, rolling his shoulders. everything feels normal for about half a second — until he pauses mid-reach for his towel and glances at you.

he’s quietly aware, his gaze dips for a split second before returning to your face, softer now, a little amused. “y’know,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a small, awkward laugh, “usually my spotter’s watchin’ the bar.”

he tilts his head, following where your attention was. “were you... checking me out?” there's no accusation, just playful curiosity, his red eyes sparkling.

your cheeks heat up. “no, i was just— zoning out.” but even as you say it, you steal another glance, staring briefly at his bulge again, confirming his solid d.

he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, a little flushed himself. “zoning out, huh? looked pretty focused to me.” he flexes his legs a bit, like he's testing, and damn if it doesn't make the outline more pronounced, feeding right into your pervy thoughts as you stare once more.

heat floods your face instantly as you try to recover, words tripping over themselves, but he just shakes his head, he shifts a little where he’s sitting, suddenly aware of himself too, like the thought hadn’t crossed his mind until now. “…that a thing you do?” he asks after a moment, genuinely curious.

you hesitate, then sigh, giving in. “n-no, it’s called catch printing…”

he repeats it slowly, then glances down again, this time with some actual understanding. there’s a pause while he processes, shoulders shifting slightly before he clears his throat, a quiet laugh slipping out under his breath.

“…so you were—” he starts, then cuts himself off, shaking his head. “man…”

he tries again, softer this time, a little shy but still curious. “…did you, uh… come to a conclusion?”

“eijiro!—“ you groan, covering your face.

he laughs, hands coming up in surrender, but he doesn’t move away. if anything, he stays right there, warmth lingering in the space between you.

“…sorry, sorry. just caught me off guard,” he says, still smiling faintly. then he shifts again—subtle, but noticeable now that you’re both more aware of it.

there’s a small pause before he adds, quieter, almost to himself, “…kinda makes me wanna prove you right, though.”

𐔌 d. kaminari .ᐟ

“nah, wait, watch, this is the best part—”

denki sprawled on the couch beside you, legs manspread wide in those loose joggers, already halfway into your space, shoulder bumping yours as he shoves his phone closer, replaying the same instagram reel like it somehow gets funnier every time.

he’s laughing before the funny part even shows, leaning into you without thinking, completely caught up in it.

you lean in too, trying to follow along — really, you are — but the proximity makes it a lot harder than it should be.

somewhere between him shifting closer and getting comfortable, your attention slips. just briefly. your eyes flick down without thinking, catching the faint curve there, not huge but teasingly curved, enough to spark your imagination, and you stare at his bulge, eyes tracing the shape through the fabric, slotting him mid-rank, possibly a b.

“…yo,” he’s already watching you, just grinning wide and knowing. “whoa, what’s that look for?” denki says, pausing the video as he peers at you.

you freeze instantly, like you’ve been caught mid-thought, and slowly look up. “huh? nothing,” you reply too fast, but your mind's still tracing that print, wondering how it'd feel twitching under your touch, your eyes having just been staring at his bulge so intently.

he smirks, shifting so his thigh brushes yours. “you sure? ‘cause your eyes were like, laser-focused down there.” he wiggles his eyebrows, but there's a hint of real curiosity, his own gaze dropping briefly like he's checking himself, aware of how you were staring at his bulge.

you laugh it off, but inside you're buzzing — pervy habit kicking in hard. “n-nobody’s worried about you, denki.”

“…you weren’t even watching,” he says, tilting his head, eyes flicking down deliberately this time before returning to yours. “were you?”

“i was—”

“mm, no,” he cuts in, laughing under his breath. he shifts his legs slightly just enough to feed into those perverted thoughts of yours — and leans in closer. “you were definitely lookin’ somewhere else.”

your face burns as you try to deny it, but he’s not buying it for a second. if anything, he looks more entertained the longer you try. “that’s crazy,” he murmurs, like he’s genuinely impressed.

you huff, crossing your arms, trying to recover some dignity. “…it’s just a thing.”

“…a thing,” he echoes, clearly amused.

you hesitate, then mumble, “catching print.”

there’s a beat of silence, then his expression lights up instantly. “ohhh,” he drags out, grin widening. “nah, i’ve heard of that.”

of course he has, that chronically online bastard.

he nudges you with his shoulder, clearly enjoying this way too much. “you just look and guess, right? people be ranking it and everything.”

you don’t answer, which is basically enough confirmation for him.

“…damn,” he laughs, leaning back slightly before glancing down at himself like he’s actually evaluating. “so what’d i get?”

“denki, please—“

“what?” he presses, grin sharpening. “you started it.”

you hesitate, then mumble it under your breath. “…an a.”

there’s a moment of silence — which is rare when you’re with denki, just long enough to make you regret saying anything.

“an a?” he repeats, mock offended.

then he readjusts slower this time and looks back at you with narrowed eyes, playful but a bit intense. “…you sure about that?” he murmurs with a lick of his lips.

your breath catches as he leans in just a little closer, voice dropping into something quieter, more teasing. “wanna test that theory, pretty liar?”

𐔌 h. sero .ᐟ

“hold on— don’t move.”

hanta’s voice is absentminded, attention focused entirely on your notebook as his pencil moves like he’s been given full creative control. one arm hooks loosely behind your chair, leaning into your space like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you glance down and, sure enough, there’s another little spider-man doodle creeping into your notes.

“you’re ruining my work,” you mutter, though there’s no real attitude behind it. you love hanta and his random doodles.

“nah,” he hums, tilting his head as he adds another line. “i’m improving it!”

you roll your eyes, but your attention doesn’t stay there. it drifts without meaning to, pulled downward for just a second. then a second longer.

“something on your mind?” hanta asks, voice light as he feels your eyes drawing down to stare at him.

“not at all,” you say, but your pulse quickens, pervy gears turning as you imagine unwrapping that, your stare having been so obvious.

he chuckles softly, “you’ve got that look... like you’re measuring me up or something.” his dark eyes glint with amusement as he continues sketching.

you shrug, playing cool, though your gaze flicks down once more — staring at his bulge to confirm the promising length. “….just watching you draw.”

“…mhm, y’know,” he says casually, causing you to freeze. he’s still drawing and hasn’t even looked at you yet. “…that’s not really what you’ve been starin’ at.”

your head snaps up too fast, denial already forming as he finally glances over, one brow raised, a small, knowing smile tugging at his mouth. “you always this obvious?” he murmurs with a smug smirk.

you look away immediately, heat creeping up your neck. “just... catching print,” you admit under your breath, the words slipping out after all that staring.

“…ah,” he tsks out loud, with no surprise.

you blink, surprised. “…you know?”

“kinda,” he shrugs, spinning the pencil between his fingers now. “seen it on tiktok, denks showed it to me.”

you groan under your breath, which only makes him laugh softly. “so what,” he continues, leaning just a little closer, voice dropping slightly, “you really are sizing me up or something?”

“n-no!”

“mm,” he hums, unconvinced. then he shifts where he’s sitting — casual enough to pass, but not accidental, then taps your notebook like he’s bringing the focus back, even though his eyes are still on you.

“c’mon,” he adds, quieter now, “don’t go quiet on me, i would like to know…”

you don’t answer, and that silence says more than anything else could and he watches you for a second longer before his smile deepens into something a little more playful. “…guess i’ll just have to give you something better to focus on next time, maybe i’ll give you a taste later,” he mutters with false nonchalance laced in his voice.

𐔌 s. todoroki .ᐟ

“wait, you skipped a step.”

shoto slides your notebook back toward you, pen hovering as he points out the mistake with quiet precision. you nod, following along, trying to stay focused on what he’s saying — but your attention slips, just briefly, right? your eyes dart, catching the straight, firm print against his uniform pants.

"is there something wrong?" he asks, interrupting your thoughts as he’s looking up at you.

you blink. “what? no.” your voice comes out too quick, and you shift in your seat, hoping he doesn’t notice the heat creeping up your neck. “just... the equation’s tricky. keep going?”

"...you stopped writing," he notes as he tilts his head slightly, heterochromatic eyes steady. "you seem distracted." he sets the pen down, shifting in his seat — the motion making the swell more apparent for a breath before he picks up again, voice even. "if it's the notes, I can go slower." but the subtle pause in his gaze suggests he knows it’s not that at all.

you stiffen slightly. “i-it’s fine !— i’m listening.”

he doesn’t respond right away. instead, there’s a small pause and then his eyes drop subtle, like he’s retracing whatever just pulled your focus.

when he looks back up, his expression hasn’t changed much, but there’s something more thoughtful behind it now. "...what were you looking at?" he asks, completely serious.

you hesitate. “…nothing.”

there’s a pause as he studies you, quiet and observant in a way, before his gaze lowers again — this time slower, more deliberate. you feel it, the way he’s putting it together piece by piece. "was it something here?"

your stomach tightens. “it’s nothing, really.”

he doesn’t drop it, geez shoto.

"...it didn't seem like nothing," he replies, voice even. another pause follows, then, quieter. "...you were looking at me."

your face burns instantly as you grit out. “i wasn’t!—”

he tilts his head slightly, watching you. not convinced. "where...," he asks with a slight hesitation, "were you looking...?"

you stare at him, mortified, but he doesn’t look away — he just waits, patient in that way he always is when he wants an answer.

you exhale sharply. “…it’s just a thing.”

"what kind of thing?"

you hesitate, then mumble, “…people look and try to guess.”

"...guess what?"

you gesture vaguely, already regretting this. “…size.”

there’s a pause as he processes that quietly. "...based on how it looks through clothing," he repeats, slower now.

you nod, avoiding his eyes. “and they rank it. like — a, b, d. it’s stupid, sorry, shoto.”

there’s a little bit of silence for a bit, then, "...i see." you risk a glance at him, but he’s already looking down again. "..and you were doing that?.." he says.

you cover your face. “shoto—”

"was your estimate correct?" he asks.

you choke. “w-what?!”

he looks back up at you, completely serious. “if the point is to estimate, then accuracy would matter.”

you make a small, mortified noise of embarrassment, and his gaze softens as he watches you with a small grin. “if it makes you feel better, i’ll let you see…”

𐔌 t. todoroki .ᐟ

the patio is quiet, touya’s sprawled across the couch, legs spread, one arm thrown over the back while the other loosely holds a cigarette. smoke curls lazily into the air as he talks, voice low and disinterested.

you’re across from him, nodding along, trying to pay attention — but your focus slips, your gaze drifts downward into his lap and stays there.

“…you done?”

your head snaps up immediately and he’s already looking at you, expression flat but edged with something faintly amused. not surprised in the slightest, though. “huh?—”

“what are you doing, huh?” he cuts in, sharp enough to stop you mid-sentence. your stomach twists as he exhales slowly, eyes dropping — following the exact same path yours just did before lifting again. “…you’re so fuckin’ weird,” he mutters.

heat floods your face as you try to recover, shaking your head, but he doesn’t give you much room to.

“you were so,” he adds, more firmly this time and you go quiet, open to his possible scolding.

he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you. “…that get you off or something?” he asks.

you hesitate, then mumble, “…n-no.”

he scoffs under his breath. “uh-huh...”

you huff, a little defensive, but he just watches you for a second longer before leaning back again, settling deeper into the couch. “…so what,” he continues, voice lower now, “you tryna figure it out?”

you don’t answer and he clicks his tongue, unimpressed. “…well if you’re gonna stare,” he mutters, “at least don’t act shy about it.”

there’s a pause, the air heavier now, before he adds. “c’mon, weirdo.”

𐔌 t. shigaraki .ᐟ

the game glitches at the worst possible moment and he loses instantly.

“tsk, fuck!—” tomura leans forward, his irritation immediate. all of his fingers except his pinky tighten around the controller like he might snap it, but then he pauses mid-motion, something else catching his attention.

in the midst of his rage, your eyes drifted and settled on the way his loose pants slightly bulged, the outline capturing your attention. you found yourself mentally assessing him, considering him a risky b+, something that could easily decay your self-control. “…the hell are you staring at?”

you freeze, realizing too late that you’ve gone completely still, your gaze still longing on him. “n-nothing!—”

he turns his head slowly, eyes landing on you before dropping and following your line of sight without hesitation. “…you’re a pervert,” he says flatly, but there's a rasp to it, like he's not entirely mad — more so intrigued, scratching at his neck as he shifts, making the print more evident.

you swallow, heart pounding, “…caught me,” you mutter, voice small but laced with that thrill, after staring so blatantly and feeling bad.

he huffs, controller forgotten. “yeah, you’re fucking obvious. what, sizing me up like some creep?” his eyes bore into you, but he doesn't move away, legs parting just a fraction, inviting the stare, or maybe challenging it, despite himself.

“shiggy…,” your face burns as you look away, trying to deny it, but he cuts you off just as quickly. “no, no, don’t give me that. yeah, you are.”

you shrink back slightly, but he just leans into the couch, one hand coming up to scratch at his neck while the controller rests loosely in the other.

tomura's lip then curls, almost a smirk. “you're into that shit?” but his voice lacks bite as he leans back.

at your silence, a faint huff leaves him, something almost amused under it. “…hm,” he breathes, glancing over his shoulder, “…alright then.”

HE’S ALL THAT, AND A BAG OF CHIPS!

❤︎ SYNOPSIS: it’s a high school reunion for jujutsu high, a religious school hidden deep in the woods. you don’t want to attend, but do—and don’t regret it. apparently, Kentō nanami, that little loser you had a crush on in high school, is officially…hot?

❤︎ CONTENT: non-sorcery!au, prom, non-linear story, light hurt/comfort, frenemies to lovers lowk, making out…18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.

❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: semi-unrelated to this fic—high school!au geto is like…chad from hsm, in the sense that he says he doesn’t dance while dancing, and then fucks ryan right after. yk?

♫ NOW PLAYING: seems like old times, vaughn monroe ver.

read on ao3 | 8k words | the barbie ad | masterlist.

TO BE HONEST, you don’t even want to be here.

For you, high school was…an era. In the moment? You had a blast. Looking back? You wish someone had put you on a leash, or placed a shock collar around your neck to buzz every time you did something socially unacceptable. What the fuck were you wearing?

You didn’t have much cognizance of the world around you until college. You barreled through life like the fastest bullet train in Japan—nose-first at 320 kilometers per hour, a little too noisy and definitely too friendly. You had a hand dipped in every clique, every social pot you could find. It took some time, but you found your people—and got comfortable under stairs for lunches, went to arcades and KFC’s just before closing. That summer before college was the highlight of your life.

(Even if your ‘people’ included Satoru Gojō.)

You and Utahime send twin glares across the long limo as Satoru pops a bottle of champagne, just as the car rolls to a stop in front of the venue. He winks at the appalled look on your faces behind a pair of black rimmed Diors.

“What?” He asks, innocent, spreading his arms in a shrug, cork in one hand and bottle in the other. Then, before taking a swig, he catches your eye. “Just because you’re nervous to see Nanami, doesn’t mean you can take it out on me.”

You manage to flip Satoru off before reverie comes over you like warm water.

Ah, Kentō.

"shh," he hushes, his other hand splayed across your stomach and pushing down so you can feel the slight bulge of his cock in there, your eyes rolling back. "keep quiet, my love. wouldn't want everyone else to hear us."

a mha college au FEAT HANTA S.

“and that’s that loving sound, it went uhh”

mdni cw: m. masturbation, fantasies and such, he's actually toxic, like bro, he's toxic ANNDDDD he's a Freak! CAPITAL F!!! i do not condone his behaviour.

wc: 1.3k

for, @updownandbatty & @plutooowo

starting track…

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

sero is such a fucking weirdo.

it wasn’t even a real argument, small shit, minuscule shit, honestly.

the kinda of thing that could’ve been solved in like three texts max, the kind of thing that, in his opinion, you were dragging.

he thinks you enjoy being angry at him, and he doesn’t help himself, not when he lives for pushing your buttons, not when being deeply irritating is his favourite pastime.

you left your phone charger in his car by accident two nights ago, so you called him, y’know, reasonably, asking if he could drop it off at yours.

he was in the middle of a game though, and he’s not your boyfriend, was he really about to drop everything just to drive over to yours and give you a charger, if you wanted it that badly you could come and collect it yourself.

you did not like that.

he rolled his eyes when he saw it.

you were typing… and typing… and typing…

and then.

voice message, after voice message, after voice message.

he snatched his headset off with a groan, not even pressing play on the audios yet, just checking his pockets for his keys, about to drive over to your place and give you your stupid fucking charger— and maybe talk to you nicely, sit on your couch, smoke your weed, eat whatever you got in your fridge, maybe eat you, if you let him.

yeah, he had a decent gameplan.

until he accidentally clicks the play button on the first voice note.

your voice comes tumbling through his phone speaker, lazy, pissed off, carefully crafted insults.

hanta smirks.

there’s something about the way you talk down to him that always did the job.

you just sound so effortlessly sexy when you’re annoyed. hanta can imagine the way your top lip would curl in disgust, the little wrinkle that appears between your brows and, you talk with your hands.

if you were here, you would have a finger pressed into his chest, all up in his face, practically itching to bite him.

it’s always been hot.

he flops back onto his chair, phone on in one hand, the instagram chat between you two open, the 2, 3, 4, 5 voice messages from you staring down at him like a dare.

he pulls his cock out.

spits on it, a huge wad of his saliva landing directly on the tip, it makes him flinch, finger grazing his phone screen, restarting the audio as he softly starts thumbing the tip.

“don’t piss me off right now,” there’s a pause where you chuckle, sarcastically, god, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever fucking heard, straight porn crackling down the speaker, “i’m so serious, you’re such a piece of shit.”

a piece of shit? him? never….

“i can’t be fucked to deal with your shit today…., i’m so fucking serious.”

yeahhhhhh, okay, okay, you’re being overdramatic as usual, but he’s weird in the head, and his cock jumps when you—

“…y’know what…. honestly hanta, fuck you, yeah, fuck you….”

his head tilts back, he practically crumples into the chair, he loves when you say his name, especially when you spit it out like that, the same way you spit out his load when he breeds your throat, the frothy cum that bubbles over your lips, paints your face.

he can see it now, his hand moves on autopilot, his palm caressing his cock, the friction makes his eyes roll, as he imagines shutting you up like that, his cock just stuffing your mouth full, your teary eyes looking up at him, with your cheeks all puffed up, and those soft lips of yours, the way they curl, the way they sneer, the way they look so good parted in ecstasy—

“….don’t understand why you make such a big deal out of this shit….”

he nearly laughs, he’s making it a big deal? you’re getting yourself so worked up over what, a fucking cable?

“it’s not even about the charger.” of course, “it’s about you…..you just wanna drag everything out.” drag his cock across your soaked pussy lips, up and down and up and down, drag his cock in teasing circles around your clit, round and round, get you all worked up and achey and needy.

“….you always wanna piss me off…” maybe you’d wanna suck on his fingers while he plays with your nipples, soft skin bulging around his palm as his digits toy with the puffy buds, he knows you like that, like his fingers, you tell him that all the time.

“….i just don’t understand how a guy can be so fucking stupid…..that’s probably why you got that dent on the back of your head, because you were dropped as baby and it….”

mmmmmm, you love running your hands through his hair though, the dark strands bunching between your fingertips when you tug on it, like a fucking leash, like he’s a misbehaving dog, just thinking about it makes him leak.

he pumps faster, the messy, sticky, fap-fap-fap echoes around his room, mixing in with his breathy groans and cries of your name.

god, he's so fucking pathetic.

but he can't help it, you're so fucking hot, and he really does like you, your face, your eyes, your f-fucking voice--

".....don't play games with me hanta...."

there you go again, saying his name, practically spitting it out like a curse word, and he's giggling as he looks down at himself, at his throbbing erection, do you even know what you do to him?

"...you're a fucking joke, y'know that right...."

nah, what's a joke is how quick he cums when you jerk him off. you're so good at that, you know his body so well, know how much he goes crazy for a sloppppyyy handjob, the messy kind, with one of your hands placed on his chest, holding him down, as the other hand massages his balls, your nails digging into his thighs, his tip drooling at the sensation.

"....so fucking stupid.....such an idiot...can't deal with your bullshit..."

fuck yeah, yeah, he's an idiot, a nasty piece of shit, he knows, he can't help it though, it's not his fault, it's your fault really, for enabling him, for giving him a taste of you in the first place, a taste of your pussy, god, your pussy, always so slick, and warm, and inviting. she treats him better than you do, she would never say mean things to him like you do, she just takes his cock, grips him so fucking tightly, fucking milks him every time.

ohhhh, he can't help himself, bucking his hips up into his fist like a wild animal, pretending that it's you. you look so gorgeous underneath him, all fucked out and whiney. and he’d let you bite all over him, sink your teeth into his skin, leave your fucking mark on him, stake your claim, all f-fucking yours, fuck, okay, okay, okay, shit, he almost forgets to breathe, your voice just swimming in his ears, changing his brain chemistry, holy fuck.

"you can't do shit properly, always half-assing shit.... can't even fuck me properly."

he knows you said that as a last resort, the final push.

he knows you, and you know him.

and hanta, like previously mentioned, is a fucking weirdo, so, of course, that’s what pushes him over the edge, because he knows, he knows for sure, that is a big old lie.

because, that's not what you said when this whole thing started, when you were in the backseat of his car on tuesday, and you squirted all over his leather seats, and the car reeked of pussy and sweat, and he could taste you in his mouth the next morning.

he runs a tongue across his teeth, the phantom taste of your juices in his mouth, and spurts everywhere, all over his hands, all over his sweats, accompanied by sorry's and thank-you’s and holy shit’s

he doesn't even bother to send you a reply, just likes that last voice message you sent, and starts cleaning himself up, because of course he was gonna come over, probably dangle that wire out of your reach, and then let you push him against the door, hands down his pants, your mouth on his neck, yeah.

solid gameplan.

…end of playback.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

@kamislop @dotalicious @lonelyfooryouonly @tsushimimi @tokkushin @realbadgyalll

this is a mixtape madness fic, drop a request and i’ll get back to you:

You decide to tease both your fans and your bf by saying “i dunno who cellophane is guys, wth???”

“Yes, I have a boyfriend, and I’m honored you guys think he’s hot enough to be a pro hero” to which sero scoffs and walks into frame saying “yes, I’m dating this beautiful woman, and YES, it’s me pro-hero cellophane. We wanted to keep things quiet but, oh well.”

denki has been waiting a year for this. a year of watching from the sidelines, of side hugs, of laughing at his jokes…always with him by your side. the prick whose hand always lingered a bit too tight around your waist, whose words would dim your spark for the rest of the night, from a bubbly girl having fun at a party to non-verbal. he never liked him, and god knows how guilty denki has felt for saying nothing, just like the rest of your friend group.

but now he had a chance.

you didn’t tell him when you and your ex boyfriend broke up, he got a whiff of it from hanta before mina flooded his phone with texts about it— yeah, he didn’t do a great job at keeping his so-called crush very hidden. he was sure you had caught onto it at some point, but never showed any signs of it.

and that’s exactly why hanta had made him a tinder account, because everyone knew that denki couldn’t hold a conversation with a pretty girl in real life to save his life. one time a girl asked him for his number and he said he’d lost his phone (even if it was literally in the back pocket of his jeans).

perhaps it was his sign when, among the countless accounts he’s scrolled through, he sees you. it had barely been a week since the breakup, you being on tinder was definitely a bad decision on your part, but hey, who was he to pass up on this chance?

he didn’t swipe right away, guilt rearing its ugly head at the back of his mind when he’s already shoved a hand down his pants. he remembers when you took that picture in your bikini, on that summer trip of torture— torture being the fact that you’d slept in the room next to his, and all he could do for a week straight was jack off to the barely muffled sounds of you and your ex having sex.

denki’s already palming himself through his boxers, his dick having started to jump obnoxiously the moment his eyes had registered you on the screen. he looks through the other photos on your profile, snorting when he sees the one you’ve obviously cut your ex out of, before going back to his favorite one.

he could’ve masturbated to every other one of your pictures, but the one you took at the beach is just so beautiful. he remembers you running in the sand, coming up after a swim in ocean or just sunbathing. your laugh when denki got hit in the head during beach volley, and how you were the only one to ask if he was okay.

his dick twitches impatiently, a groan rumbling in his throat when he finally lets it free, spitting on his palm before wrapping it around his shaft. denki knows this is so wrong, but at least now you’re single, so in his mind it’s not as bad as the other times he's done it when you were taken.

precum’s already beading at his flushed tip, hand stroking in slow, up and down motion with the slightest rotation of his wrist, and he’s already gone to delusion land. imagining it’s your hand instead, or your mouth or - if the universe will ever grant him - your cunt. warm and gushing around his cock while you use him, tugging at his hair while you beg him to fuck you harder, because he’s such much better than him.

or it would still be his own hand, but his mouth would be stuffed with your pussy, tongue lapping up at your juices like a madman, thighs bracketing his ears, muffling the moans he would be wrenching out of you. and his eyes would be open the entire time to watch you gyrate on top of him, to watch you come undone. and he’d be the one who did it.

the mere thought of making you cum is what makes him spill embarrassingly all over his hand, a choked cry of your name on his lips. and shit, some of his cum got on his phone, too.

only after he’s cleaned himself - and his phone - up, and has recollected some sort of rationality, does he sit back down, thumb hovering over the screen before he swipes right. denki almost faints when it lights up.

IT’S A MATCH!

┊┊a/n. FINALLY GOING BACK TO MY KAMISLOP TRUTH!! also this might or might not be half based on my actual lore...who knows...