#lionuse

He bite the smore, He nut some more

ROUND FOR ROUND

hamzah celebrates with you first thing after his victory.

“and the winner is.. blue corner!”

the moment you heard those words, closely followed by cheers erupting throughout the venue, you knew what was in store for you.

hamzah did promise, after all. he made it abundantly clear that you were the first person he’d want to see if he won the match.

watching him land powerful hits, moving with precision and accuracy throughout the ring was undoubtedly making you feel some sort of way. you knew hamzah was strong and he’d most likely win, but god was it enticing to watch him fight anyways.

when the referee raised hamzah’s arm to crown him the winner, instead of looking out to the crowd - his eyes immediately met yours, an exhausted but cocky grin plastered on his face.

and — only about a half an hour later — the two of you were back in his ‘locker room.’ his nose is bruised and bloodied and he’s still slightly winded but he wants you all the same.

“shit.. wearin’ my name, screaming all loud for me out there,” he whispers in awe between kisses, slipping his hands underneath the blue fabric of your shirt printed with the words TEAM HAMZAH, his fingers tracing the curves of your body. “gonna keep this on while i fuck you.” he mutters under his breath, grabbing a fistful of the fabric.

he has you laid across the couch, his body slotted between your spread legs. he was impatient, greedy, for his reward. your pants lie in a crumpled heap on the floor, next to the tattered lace of your underwear that hamzah just had to completely rip off your body.

“you’re so pretty,” hamzah breathes out, relishing in the sight of you beneath him, wearing his name. “my fuckin’ prize.”

he meets your gaze, looking like a man starved. the only thing he needs after that fight is you.

he’s running purely off the adrenaline he has that’s left over from the boxing match, or else his body would probably give out and collapse on top of yours right now.

“fuck,” he says, his voice gruff with desire. “baby, i need to feel you right now.”

“yes,” you breathe out. “please, hamzah.”

he hums lowly against your neck as he impatiently bites and kisses at your skin, eliciting small moans from your lips. his hand reaches down between your bodies to sloppily tug down his own shorts and boxers, carelessly leaving them pooled around his knees.

“y’okay?” he asks lowly, his lips skating across the shell of your ear as you feel his length press against your inner thigh. “don’t go holdin’ back on me. m’not that weak.” he taunts.

a small breathless laugh leaves your lips, your hands finding his shoulders and loosely holding on. “who says i’m holding back?”

he pulls away, grinning down at you, expression full of sin. “good,” he replies darkly. “cause i’m not, either.”

you can hardly register his words before he’s lining himself up with your entrance and bottoming out inside you with a single movement. your breath lodges in your throat, only a small choked whine escaping.

“oh, god,” he groans, relishing in the feeling of your walls adjusting to him. “fuck — y’take it so well, baby.”

you nails sink into his shoulders, making half moon indents in his skin as he starts snapping his hips into you, his cock filling you completely and utterly.

mindless moans and chants of his name tumble from your lips. his tip bumps against your cervix with each thrust, making your body jolt with pleasure.

“hamzah,” you whine, your spine arching off the surface of the couch, his rigid chest pressing up to yours, your bodies only separated by the shirt you wore to support him.

that’s what hamzah loves to see. you, his number one fan, unconditionally encouraging him in his endeavors. it drives him crazy. he wonders how he got so lucky.

“hmm?” he hums with a slight grin. “feels good, huh?”

each slam of his hips steals your breath away. he’s so deep. your mind is fuzzy and every word you try to force out gets caught on the tip of your tongue.

“c’mon, honey. you can tell me, i know you can.” he growls, needing the affirmation. “be a good girl f’me.”

“ye — yes!” you whimper pathetically, your stomach clenching as your arousal intensifies, building tension with each smack of his skin against yours. “it’s.. it’s so good,”

“thaaat’s it,” he purrs, his breath fanning across your neck. “my girl, my perfect girl.”

hamzah’s fingers squeeze and grab at every inch of your body underneath your shirt, trying to ground himself impossibly closer to you. he touches on your tits, your hips — until his hands find your legs, and he’s suddenly straightening up to grab your calves and hook your ankles up over his shoulders.

you squeeze your eyes shut, crying out in pure ecstasy as the new position allows him to slip even deeper into you, pounding into you under a euphoric, adrenaline-and-lust-filled haze.

“fuck,” he grunts, his jaw hanging slack between each word he grits out. “fuck, i’m gonna cum already — shit, baby.”

“mmh — hamzah, i c-can’t.. you’re so.. fuck, just.. don’t stop!”

he exhales an evil, breathless laugh. “shh, baby. jus’ finish f’me, don’t get all dumb now.”

his teasing words and his cock ramming into your dripping cunt finally tip you over the edge. your body shutters as your climax hits you in white-hot waves of pleasure.

the groan that hamzah lets out is downright animalistic, his head lolling backwards. he struggles to keep his release in with the added pressure of your pussy squeezing his length. he’s completely buried inside you, letting you process through your own feelings before he loses his self-control.

“shiiiit,” he murmurs lowly, his grip on your legs tightening as they tremble with the intensity of your orgasm.

he stares down at you through hooded eyes, and the sight of you completely undone beneath him nearly makes him finish on the spot.

as you finally start to calm, he just can’t contain himself anymore. he begins to pull out, making you whine softly before the noise is cut off with a sharp gasp as he suddenly plunges right back inside.

“fuck!” you whine, your hands desperately gripping at the couch as you finally feel his cock twitch, his warm release spilling inside of you.

“oh, o-oh, yes, fuckin’ perfect..” hamzah gasps, stilling inside you as he comes down from his own high.

“baby, if beating up martin is what it takes for a reward like this.. i’m goin’ for a damn knockout next time.”

a/n: i started this when the fight first happened and i just now finished it oops. sorry for not being consistent <\3

xoxo giulia

For the two anons!!!! The outfits were the strongest pastel couple vibes and I refuse to believe they’re not on a cute pastel date

(x)

top 10 most cursed m&g pics to keep you up at night

im begging for you to make a drummer bakugou based on that "i hate attention" video on tiktok of the girl on his lap

⊹ ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ divine agnes ! the coincidence that i also saw the video on my feed just as i was reading this ask. a bit suggestive, though not full-blown smut. fem!reader ♡

this was the part of the show everyone waited for.

it had started as a half-serious joke during rehearsals, but now, it was a signature moment—where the band performed shirtless and invited fans onto the stage. it was chaotic, but the fans loved it—always ate it up. every. single. time. katsuki, ever the showman despite his usual preference for controlled chaos, played along because, hell, why not? it wasn’t like anyone would hinder his ability to play the drums anyway.

tonight, as dunce face—their lead guitarist—went off stage and picked a handful of lucky fans onto the stage, his eyes locked onto you.

you stood out, not because you were screaming or jumping like the others, but because it felt like you were anticipating what is to come. a black, skin-tight dress that clung to your curves, highlighting the physical attributes of your chest, the stage lights making the fabric shimmer in a way that made katsuki’s throat feel dry.

before he could second-guess himself, he stood up, walked towards you—past eijirou and hanta, who were getting to know some of their chosen fans—and met you halfway on the stage.

“c’mere, princess,” he called, his voice rough but somehow carrying over the background music. “you enjoyin’ the show s’far?” bakugou took your hand—warm, steady—and guided you over to where his drums were and sat you carefully on his lap.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear over the music.

you looked down at him, smiling in a way that sent a slow burn through his chest. “yeah. i—yeah,” you whispered, unsure of what to say.

“relax, i ain’t gonna bite you,” he chuckled, letting your arms search for a place to ground yourself without feeling too awkward and uncomfortable. “hold on to me, yeah? wouldn’t want you fallin’ for someone else.”

katsuki barely had a second to brace himself before getting back into the rhythm. his hands moved on instinct, drumsticks striking with practiced precision, his legs pumping the pedals without missing a beat.

which was when he realized the problem.

his legs were moving.

you were sitting on his lap.

and every time his foot hit the bass pedal, every slight motion of his thighs—you moved with it.

you had your hands on his shoulders, gripping them lightly for balance, your pretty, sparkling nails pressing into his skin—he was sure it’ll leave a mark (good). every shift, every flex of his muscles beneath you made your body press just that much closer, and—fuck.

your dress.

that damn dress.

his eyes kept flickering down, catching glimpses of smooth skin, the curve of your chest barely restrained by the neckline, and the way the fabric clung to your waist. it was a distraction in the worst way possible, his brain fighting between focusing on the setlist and the fact that he had a gorgeous girl practically grinding on him in front of thousands of people. that particular friction had his mind reeling from thoughts, his pants suddenly feeling tighter from the straining of his throbbing cock.

you didn’t seem fazed at all, though. you were smiling down at him, completely unaware of the way his jaw had locked, how he had to dig his heels into the stage to stop himself from reacting.

“you look prettier up close,” you say, sultry whispers close to his ear that had katsuki huffing shortly.

this girl, fuck.

he forced himself to keep his cool, to rely on muscle memory to get through the song, but every little movement—it was practically humping at this point—sent another spark of heat racing through him. his fingers tightened around the drumsticks, knuckles white with the effort of keeping himself under control.

the worst part?

you were enjoying it.

not in a teasing, intentional way—but you were clearly having fun. there was nothing forced about the way you laughed when the crowd cheered, nothing fake about the way you met his eyes and grinned like you belonged there, like you knew exactly what kind of effect you had on him.

he almost fucked up a beat. almost.

katsuki never messed up during a performance, even if he’s had a hundred girls on his lap before, doing the same thing you were, but you were making it damn difficult to keep his head in the game. the exception above all to all of this.

and just as suddenly as it started, the song was over.

he helped you off his lap, graceful as ever, and for the first time in his life, katsuki found himself staring at a girl as you thanked him before you walked away—not because he was annoyed, but because he wasn’t ready for you to go.

before you disappeared into the crowd of fans being escorted off the stage, he caught your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“you liked it?” he asked, forcing his voice to sound steady, even though his heart was still pounding for an entirely different reason than adrenaline.

you tilted your head, considering. “i don’t really like too much attention,” you admitted. then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you added, “but… i wouldn’t mind if it came from you. in more ways than one, pretty boy.”

then you were gone, melting back into the sea of fans with your friends.

katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the lingering heat crawling up his spine. suddenly the cold air of the place gave him chills, as if he hadn’t been shirtless for an hour and a half by now. he was about to turn back to his drum kit when he noticed something.

a small, folded note is sitting on his stool.

his name was scrawled on it, and when he opened it, he found a simple message—and a phone number. maybe you’ve expected this from the very beginning.

his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but not quite anything else either.

tonight just got more memorable for him.

12:58

I’m sick to my fucking stomach

The map flag had the same color scheme as the pan flag and now they’re switching to the bi flag

If you see anyone with this flag or any variation

Run

Don’t fucking hesitate to block because pedos are now using this new “flag” and other forms of it

Can I get a signal boost from larger accounts? Start tagging people so this will spread

Cutest Girl Alive~

tw: explicit content. brat!reader, gojo is not a brat tamer he is a brat enjoyer, hate sex vibes, very very tsundere!reader, gojo is hilariously oblivious about how annoying he is, reader is kinda mean (not without reason...)

satoru gojo who just doesn't know what your problem is.

he really doesn't! suguru doesn't believe him, of course, but it's true - he didn't do anything. at least not anything that would warrant you asking if his "inbred, illiterate ass is too important to file a report".

ichiji said it was just because his paper backlog made things difficult for everybody. but the inbreeding comment was uncalled for!

his mom is super hot, though. he told you as much, and offered to set up a date, just in case you swung the other way.

unfortunately, the only thing that swung just your hand against his face, which didn't make contact, but it still hurt his feelings!

(you'd looked him dead in the eye. "good." walked away.)

and that wasn't just an isolated incident!

he'd caught you at the vending machine, bent over. satoru had politely refrained from slapping your ass and loudly announced how hot it was.

perfect gentleman!

whereupon you had turned around, smiling tightly, and offered him the soda.

"see," he teased, cracking it open, "i knew you could be nice if-"

the soda sprayed all over his face. your smile looked a little looser, a little realer, and your laugh - while awful and wicked - had been terribly adorable.

when he started to laugh with you, though, you just glared. rolled your eyes, and walked off in the middle of the conversation.

and just. random moments! your face falls into an admittedly cute pout (suguru says it's a grimace) whenever he walks into the room.

"how's your day been?"

"good, until you got here."

like, he's not crazy here. you're just being mean.

honestly, it's kind of funny. or it would be funny, if it didn't kind of hurt a little.

suguru doesn't get the same kind of response. when he begs, pleads, and bribes suguru into asking you what you don't like about him -

"if i had to say... everything."

whereupon suguru had burst out laughing.

mean!

but that's the thing, though. you were nice to suguru, to everyone else.

you're not a bitch. you're a bitch to him.

he's special.

you don't treat anybody else like this.

why is that, satoru ponders. why do you especially dislike him?

suguru says it's his shitty personality. joke's on suguru because his best friend has been some guy with a shitty personality for about a decade now! loser.

anyways, he comes up with a plan. he texts you from another phone and number, something perfectly random and polite. a picture of a cat he found on the street.

(you love cats so you'll definitely respond. he knows because he's been popping in on you for several weeks now. it's not stalking because he doesn't follow you! and that was so rude of suguru to say!)

the conversation that follows is perfectly pleasant. sweet, even. he enjoys it, right up until -

mean girl <3: hey could you do me a huge favor actually? satoru gojo: anything 4 u kitten!! mean girl <3: kill yourself gojo

his number is blocked.

whoops. wow. do you have a built in satoru gojo detector or something? what is he missing? what gave him away???

suguru looks over the texts and just stares at him blankly at the question.

"well? what could have clued her in?"

"oh, god... satoru, if you can't tell, just forget about it. and stop trying to fool her."

he probably should. stop, that is.

he's not following you but he's definitely teleporting into places he knows you'll be. trying to run into you. constantly. daily. hourly, even.

he likes to stay updated on all your missions. your favorite restaurants. maybe he watches you a little.

there's just something that draws him in. your quick wits, your derision. the way you look at him with all that fire.

you want to laugh at him. he wants to laugh with you.

and yeah, he gets rock hard when you yell at him. he'd let you slap him but you don't bother trying anymore after hitting his infinity that one time. bummer.

it's a late summer evening - sun still up, orange on the horizon. he's stuck filling out reports, you're stuck grading papers.

in silence, as always. you'd never speak to him unless it was to insult him.

"hey," satoru says all the sudden, "you wanna fuck?"

the silence that fills the room is colder, harder -

"are you fucking serious?" insulted, outraged - that's about what he expected.

but... if he looks with the six eyes... if he glances at your sympathetic nervous system, if he squints really hard and swears three times over, maybe he can convince himself -

"you're not totally against the idea, are you?" he draws himself up from the table, smirking.

hooking a finger in his blindfold like he's trying to remind you just how long they are.

you stare at him.

"dead serious," he confirms, "right here right now. i can be fast."

"i don't doubt it." oooh, there's that bite again, "i doubt i'd enjoy it."

his smile bares teeth.

"wanna bet?"

and fuck, just look at you now. look at you!

with all six eyes he is. and satoru likes what he sees.

hunched over, teary eyed. face bright red. you used to scowl at him with that face, that pretty face, all hard lines and snarled lips -

and look at you now! so cute and precious and soft! so sweet he wants to take a bite out of you.

you even yelp, adorably, when he nips at the inside of your thigh. sensitive, twitchy.

he's dizzy with it. with the taste of you, of your cum. your high pitched little whimpers in his ears are still ringing in his ears, along with your mean retorts.

"where's your smart mouth now, baby?" he teases, lips glossy with your slick.

and god, it's even fucking hotter watching you try to glare while blushing and trembling and blinking away tears of overstimulation.

"sh-shut up and put your dick in me, gojo," you bite out, "if you even know how."

you jolt when he kisses your cunt, looking you in the eyes while he does it.

"awh, you poor thing," he cooes, crawling up your chest to go face-to-face, even as another hand goes to dig his cock out of his pants, "so impatient."

he can tell it riles you up. that you don't know what to do, trapped in his gaze.

"fuck off, gojo."

"i'll fuck you," he says with a snicker, kissing your throat. like he knows you won't let him kiss your lovely little pouty face.

how could he not have seen it before?

(well, he had his blindfold on for one. but the principle of you being unsettled by your attraction towards him still stands!)

he lines himself up, nice and easy. feels your unsteady hands reach, cling to his shoulders, and that's almost as hot.

you look down to avoid his gaze, but then your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. huge and pink and throbbing.

"yummy, right?" he croons, "you can have a taste after if you want. you're so sweet, you deserve a lick or two."

you make this sharp gasp, the most adorable, helpless noise, your whole body jerking as he plunges into you, and satoru nearly cums just from that.

cute. cute cute cute cute so fucking cute he's gonna go crazy.

he bites at the place your shoulder meets your neck just to sate himself. soft skin, tender flesh. salty and slick from sweat.

you melt in his mouth. around his dick. whimpering and sniffling and mewling little demands.

"get on with it, gojo, fuck, is this your first time - "

"first time fucking a cunt this wet?" he purrs between sucking marks on your neck, "yeah, baby. it's crazy, how much you want me."

"you went down on me for like," another high-pitched squeak as he nips your ear, "t-ten minutes, dumbass. of course i'm wet!"

your hands claw at him, trembling just like your voice.

he shoves himself in, all the way to the hilt, disintegrating any coherence you had left. all you can do is cry out, wailing when his long fingers brush over your poor, swollen, tender clit.

"awh, baby, you can take it," he croons. his heart does a little delighted flutter when he sees your (utterly kissable) lips purse in annoyance, only to fall apart again when he pumps back into you.

"run out of nasty things to say, huh, baby?" satoru swears he can feel your pretty little clit twitching and pulsing at his touch, just like his cock throbs inside you.

his eyes glitter as he thrusts in and out. god, your hot fucking body tensing and shuddering against him, the exhaustion warring with pleasure and aggravation on your face.

there's not a single part of you that isn't utterly fixated on him. in this moment he's the most important thing in your world.

and it's glorious. your cunt is clenching him like a vice, unraveling him almost as far as he's already unwound you. little moans spill from your mouth, music to his ears.

that face, god, that fucking gorgeous face that's always frowning at him. so pretty now.

"look at you," he pants, close so close, "god, you're - such a bitch all the time - you just needed a good fucking, huh?"

satoru snatches your face by the jaw, looking you straight in the eyes.

they're all wet and messy and a little bit red. he's so close he has to press hard, fast circles into your clit to get you closer, closer -

"f-fuck," you sob, "fuck, hngh, you-"

he licks your tears off your cheeks, "just needed some good cock, huh? that's all it takes to shut your mean little mouth?"

clawing at his back. he feels you squeezing him for all he's worth, milking him -

"fuck, i'm cumming," he groans, bursting hot and liquid in your tight cunt.

you gulp down heavy, airy breaths. delicate noises as you tremble in his arms.

fuck, you're so gorgeous. satoru lays you back, your lashes fluttering, face flushed, spread out on the desk all limp and exhausted.

his ravished beauty. his little spitfire.

"see," he cooes, cupping your cheek, "all sweet for me now that you're filled with my cum. see how nice it feels when you're good for me?"

your hands shoot up, slapping his hand away, covering your face.

"your mouth is literally only good for eating pussy."

he laughs, leaning in to hold you against him. "and yours is only good for talking shit."

"maybe if you weren't such an asshole you'd know better." you snap, pulling back, sliding him out of you with a little gasp that gets his cock twitching again.

he whines at the loss of you, "awh, come on, don't be like that."

you roll your eyes. it's pretty incredible how well you're composing yourself, fixing your clothes and hair. taking a deep breath as you pointedly ignore his pestering and prepare to leave.

his bitchy, pretty baby. so much less intimidating when he's seen you moaning and cumming in his mouth - but he thinks you're even more adorable now.

"i gave you more than your fair share of orgasms, didn't i? show me what else it's good for~" he sings, staring at you the whole time.

you ignore him until you're dressed again. glancing at him from the corner of your eye. turning away.

"...next week after class." you say, stopping just before you leave, "i don't like owing people."

"heh." satoru watches you dart out the door, shutting it briskly behind you, smiling to himself.

maybe you thought he couldn't see it - as if he isn't always watching your face - but just before you left, he could tell.

the faintest dusting of pink on your cheeks...

you really are the cutest girl alive, huh?

(megumi tells him to stop whistling that day - he doesn't stop for an entire week.)

we’re so back.