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YOU HAVE 3 MESSAGES FROM : maki zenin x f!reader maki is typing . . . !SUGGESTIVE CONTENT, language REPLY NOW ? . . . “ i know we’re fwb but i love you… ”

LEIGH REPLIED TO YOUR MESSAGE : getting lowkey pornographic here in eaterville…anywayssss how do we feel about the new smau layout are we eating it deown ayeee 😇😇 also let’s all collectively think about this meg song rn bc this is the vibe mhm

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i’ll be chicken wings with u (as long as my gf and ur bf say it’s okay) 🫶🏼

tell me why my bf js played me a song and went: “this is us.” and i was like “wait this is so dbhwks coded.” and he looks me dead in the eye and says: “no! i don’t wanna be chicken wings!”

he meant hotwings

A Cursed Forest

Synopsis: in which you journey on with dragon!sukuna who runs into someone he knows Word Count: 2k Warnings: cursing, not proofread Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

You have been walking for hours and hours since dawn break when the first light lit up the entrance of the cave. On that morn, the Cursed King had shifted into the form of a man — hulking and terrifying, a true beast — and strode forth from the cave with no instruction to guide you. Yet, you knew better than to utter a query or seek command, for his will was plainly wrought: follow him wherever he pleases. 

So you did. 

The ground was dry, cracked, and parched as if no rain had ever lay even but a kiss upon it. The sky darkened with the threat of tempest, though no breeze stirs the air, nor no sound, and no sign of life in the forest. It frightened you impossibly further, for you were so certain the trees were alive all through the night, but then, as your captor, or your saviour, you’ve yet to know, marched along, with you in tow, you knew then that it was his very presence that commanded an eerie stillness upon every branch, every leaf, and every critter that had made this place its home. 

Sore and bruised, your feet ache with every step; you dare not complain. Instead, you pray to the Heavens that your stomach will not grumble so loudly and that this destination the King has in mind arrives soon, for there is not much more you can give. 

Power coursing through his veins, he does not seem affected by this long journey through the forest. He is not lost, he does not thirst or hunger, he does not stumble or slow his pace. He is as steady as time and just as silent and merciless. 

A step for him is a leap for you, and you are struggling to keep up. When you stop by a tree, leaning against the rough bark to catch your breath, he stops, too, but he does not meet your eye. He simply stands tall, his unclothed back rippling with tension, and you rush to your feet, not wanting to irritate him with your weakness. 

He journeys on wordlessly. 

Midday passes, and you have not eaten, drank, or rested. Your mortal limitations are dragging your limbs down, forcing your mouth to dry and your vision to spin. 

“M-my Lord,” you stutter, nails pricking your palm, “if I m-may, I do not think I can go on much longer.”

Halting ahead, he turns and regards you with his full attention. He’s looking, really looking, and what he sees displeases him greatly. With a sneer, he makes a sharp turn and mists away. 

You slump to the ground, ashamed of the way your knees quiver and how blood so easily leaks from shallow cuts on your bare feet. You are just as your family says: weak, pathetic, and useless. Nothing had ever prepared you for this twist of fate, from being cast out to being offered as sacrifice for the drought and then to taking on the role of companion to the most monstrous beast that plagues the Kingdom of Eden. 

It is a mockery. 

The salt in a wound that runs deep and defines you. 

“Drink.”

Your eyes had shut without your realisation and when they open, you think perhaps you are delirious, because you are somewhere different. Still imprisoned in the Dark Forest, you are now at the river that pierces straight through. Rushing forward, you slurp down the fresh water. Life pulses in your very heart. It is cool and refreshing and everything you needed.

Dripping down your chin, the water you cup in your hands is soaked up by your dress more so than your own lips, but you cannot find the decency to feel shame in front of the King. 

Heat blasts your back, sudden and light, and you feel it tickle your skin. Behind you, your captor holds a charred bird, smoke curling out of his mouth. He throws it in your lap when you turn, staining your dress and threatening to burn your thighs. 

“Eat.”

It is as delicious as the meat he had allowed you to feast on the previous night. Strength floods your stomach, rich and filling. This is the most fortunate you’ve ever been when it comes to food; your family would throw scraps at you, watery oats and bones to gnaw on.

Warmth dancing inside, you’re much more comfortable now and ready to journey further, but you do not want to let him know just yet, lest he drags you onwards for another half-day. Slowly, you pick at the meat, pretending to savour it.

“Thank you, my Lord,” you mutter, barely above a whisper.

He grunts. Leaning against a tree himself, he watches you, lip curling slightly in something that might have been amusement or disdain. Your eyes dart downward, and you know what he sees—the dark mark upon your chest, a twisted design resembling his dragon shape, now burned into your skin. The heat beneath it intensifies under his stare, but neither of you speak of it.

Swallowing and carefully, you find the courage to ask, “To where do we venture, my Lord?”

“The nearest town to the north.”

That would be Agartha — a bustling place nestled within the heart of the northern mountains, a haven for traders and merchants. It is a place you have only heard whispers of in stories uttered of by those in your home who dared not venture beyond the village borders. It is said to welcome all manner of folk and creatures, so long as they have something of value to trade, but few have dared to travel its roads. 

It’s over a day’s travel, and the closer one gets to that part of the land, the more likely they are to encounter a cursed being, even if one avoids passage through the Dark Forest, skirting along the edge instead. 

“Why?”

His amber eyes cut through yours, and with disdain, he orders, “Finish your food, and do not question me anymore.”

“But why walk when you can fly?”

The question leaves your mouth before you could mull the thought further and the flex of his hand makes you gulp. You know not where the stupidity came from and you resent yourself for it. A moment passes, the leisurely flow of the river the only sound filling this gap between you. 

Assessing you with a cock of his head, you wonder what he’s thinking. Perhaps he’s regretting his choice of companion, or perhaps he’s considering whether you are better off as a meal. You hope it’s not the latter. Or either. You hope he likes you. 

Why, you cannot bear to ponder. 

“Because you cannot.”

His voice…

It’s softer than before. Not quite gentle — it is still very much rough, raspy, and deep in a way that rattles your bones — but there’s a vulnerability, a sincerity that leaves you reeling. The mark on your chest burns, and you grow breathless, shivers running up your spine and tingling in places you cannot linger on for too long. 

He grunts, his large hand clutching a pec. His eyes meet yours with disbelief. Something clicks inside again, that turn of a key, that slotting of a puzzle piece, which he seems to feel, too. But that can’t be. 

“You,” he hisses, and then he shakes his head. Inhaling deeply, you feel the forest rumble beneath you, shaking with the force with which he’s gripping the tree bark behind him. “If you are finished, get to your feet and walk before I drag you by your hair.”

He is already turning away, walking ahead with more force than before. You quickly wash your hands and mouth before you rush after him, afraid to be left alone as the afternoon falls. 

Hiking closer to him than before, you cannot help but eye his marked back. The black lines are pigmented and clean. They do not appear like the marks you’ve seen on other men in your village. No, they look to be a part of his body, just as any of his limbs are. 

You wonder how they feel under your fingers. 

Another hour or two passes in silence. You do not ask questions and he does not offer answers. This is a mere glimpse of how the rest of your time with him will pass, you gander. Though, it is unclear for long he will tolerate your existence. A man like him, or rather a creature like him, does not seem like the type to desire company, and yet here you are.

The temperature drops considerably. Goosebumps rise along your arms. A sharp crackle sparks in your chest.

You have unknowingly ventured somewhere odd. The branches are sparser, the grass is balding and dull, and fog is blanketing your feet. Somehow, the sky has darkened quickly, as if the clouds had thickened within seconds. You feel a chill prick your spine. 

“Stay close, rat,” the King of Curses snarls. 

When you approach him, he gives you a firm look and then jerks his chin. You press closer. In the distance, you can hear whistling —mocking and taunting. Your breaths get more and more shallow. You are being watched. 

Hesitantly, fearful you might set something off, you whisper, “Where are we?”

“We are on the brink between the edge of this forsaken forest and the land surrounding Agartha. There will be dangers around these parts. Do take care to not allow yourself to be ripped apart; you will stain my skin with your filthy blood,” he growls. 

You have only heard of tales from drunken men in taverns you’d pass by. Tales of hunched beasts ranging in height, some with the ability to tear into your flesh and kill you instantly and others with magic that lure you to your death. And though you’d like to know more about what exactly the King is sending along these parts, you are far from keen to learn first-hand. So, you follow the angry man’s lead. 

The recent turn of events has you reeling, but you are given little to no time to ponder anything. Indeed, you have no choice, just as you have never had a choice in life. 

More whistling. 

It has grown nearer. 

“Fuck,” the King growls. He flexes his arms, hands closing to fists as he marches ahead. You cannot tell how he feels, whether he is afraid, anxious, or enraged. Best not to find out. 

“If it isn’t the great King, out of his domain,” a woman’s voice sounds out.

It is melodic and enchanting. Bumps on your skin rise. There is something frightening in her tone. Too sure, too confident, too in control, you cannot breathe with the weight of her presence, though you see her not.

“And with a mortal girl, no less.”

The voice, bodiless, float around your head, lifting locks of your hair as if marveling at the tangible feel of your body. 

Squealing, you run to your companion’s side, holding his arm in spite of yourself. He glances down at your quivering form and rolls his eyes. “Spare me the theatrics, Kuchisake. We are merely passing. Answer me: Is Agartha still as it once was when I was awake?”

The voice chuckles and replies, “It has not changed. Time does not pass by in that corner of the kingdom.” 

He nods and moves to continue on his way before she speaks again, and the underlying threat in her voice stops him in his tracks. 

“I know what you seek. But Mother has made her intentions clear; you must see through the bonds that tie you down.”

A force knocks you back into a tree and away from him. The impact knocks the breath out of you but it does not hurt.

It is impossible to tell who pushed you, and you dare not dwell on it. They are having a stand-off, asserting power over each other, whilst you remain as mere collateral. That is how it has always been with these cursed beings, indeed with any who held power over you. 

“Mother has chosen to play a cruel joke, one in which I want no part. Not even she can stop me. So keep your advice to yourself, Nymph.”

She hums a melancholy tune, it is low and slow, a bastardisation of a sacred melody. She sings the wedding march.

Sukuna flicks his wrist and you’re lifted up, floating in the air until you land on your own feet next to him. Then he walks on, with you in tow, feeling red tendrils of smoke tied around your wrist, keeping you from running or being snatched away. It is as if he has collared you, his very own pet.

Still invisible to the human eye, she hums that tune all the way through the forest, even once you’ve left the border of those crooked trees, and only stops when a mountain in the distance comes into view. 

That is where you are headed. And deep inside, there is something the King of Curses wants desperately enough to stomach mockery from, who you can only guess to be, his sister. 

What lies ahead, you do not know. 

You have no choice but to trust him, and you hope that at the end of this cursed journey, you will make it out in one piece.

❦︎.ᐟ more than a dance

.ᐟcw: stripper!reader, lap dance, light mirror play, fingering

"𝐻𝑒𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑖𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑊𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑎, ℎ𝑒𝑦 (𝑚𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑎, 𝑚𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑎, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡? 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡?)" - 𝑚𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑎 𝑏𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑡𝑡

ᵎᵎ🍒⋅˚✮

You’ve seen your fair share of men. But sae itoshi? He’s on another level of cold, collected, and disinterested, a regular now. Always comes at the same time on the same days. Watches your dance for the night and books you right after.

He’s considered somewhat of a VIP guest, so you had no choice but to dance for him. Not that you minded, considering the amount he paid.

He always sits in the same seat, center couch in the dim VIP lounge. Legs spread, hand curled lazily around a glass of something expensive. Dark green eyes watching you—every sway of your hips, every time you drop to your knees for the crowd and let your tongue skim your bottom lip.

Sometimes you think he’s getting bored of you. That was until now.

Your set ends and you walk off the stage, getting stopped by your manager. “He wants you. Again. VIP private room 013.” your manager says, tilting his head in the direction sae went.

“Sae?”

“Yeah, he said to hurry” You nodded, going backstage to freshen up before walking towards the room. Heels clicking against the floor.

You push the door open—dim lights, a velvet couch, mirror wall behind it, and him.

Sae’s already seated, legs spread again, head tilted slightly. Eyes dark and unreadable as ever.

“Took you long enough” swishing the glass of whatever around, staring you down as you walk up to him. Placing your hands on either side of his face and climbing onto his lap.

“You don’t talk much. Thought you’d like some silence, you know?” you tease, whispering against his ear. The almost deafening music in the background only adds to the tension under neon lights.

His hand curls around your waist instantly—tighter than expected. His voice is low.

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

You start slow, hips rocking as your fingers trace the collar of his shirt. Your lips graze his ear when you mumble, “Still pretending you don’t like this?” Sae scoffs softly, that condescending smirk breaking through. His hand cups your ass, pulling you down flush.

“You think you're in control just because you’re on top?” he murmurs. “Cute.”

Then his hips buck. You dig your nails into his shoulder. Fuck, he’s already hard? He definetly been holding back.

“Ride. i never said you could stop” You roll your hips, the friction driving heat straight between your thighs, but it’s not enough. He doesn’t even move—just lets you grind yourself against him until you're panting, staring at him through your lashes.

You flinch as his hands move away from your waist towards your inner thighs. His knuckles brushing over the soaked fabric of your thong. A mean smirk tugging at his lips.

“You’re soaked” he tilts his head, knowing damn well he’s the one who’s in control right now. “Just from a dance?” you looked down, prying your eyes away from his menacing glare. Staring at his large hand resting between your bodies. Face flushed a deep shade of red. Thank god for the neon lights which masked your blushing face.

You look at him with a pout, wanting to say something back but he’s already pushing the fabric aside, back of his fingers rubbing against your folds. Torturously slow. Your body spontaneously grinds up against his fingers.

“So fucking desperate.” he laughs, clearly degrading you. “Desperate for me, isn’t that right?”

“Fuck- sae-” you gasped, 2 of his fingers invading you. Your soft walls clench around the thick digits. His fingers get meaner, deeper.

“Say it.” he repeats, thumb pressing against your clit. You bit down on your plump lower lip, nodding.

“Words, yn. Words.” the words come out rough, like an order. “And look in the mirror while you say it”

Your pussy throbs at his words. You look behind him, eyes coming in contact with yourself. Your cheeks flushed red, lips parted.

“I.. i’m needy for you” The words tasted bitter on your tongue, especially while watching yourself say it. It’s like he was forcing you to lose all self-respect.

“I don’t need your stripper act anymore, yn” he says, curling his fingers up, making your stomach clench, your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Then what do you need?” he smirks at your breathy, moan-like words.

“You to cum all over my lap and fingers” you let out a high pitched moan, his fingers pushing in deeper, your gummy walls swallowing him up, keeping them warm in your cunt. “And to make sure everyone out there can hear who you belong to”

Those were more than words. They were a promise. Your hips tremble against his lap.

“Ride.” he repeats from earlier. You grinded down on his fingers, rolling your hips as tension coils in your stomach, your thighs clamping around the side of his. One last curl of his fingers, thumb applying gentle pressure on your clit while he circles it and you finish around them, you choke his fingers, knees digging into the sofa. It’s like your entire body shook from that orgasm. You scream his name against his shoulder, shameful but sweet. Your body rocks forward, head buried in his neck as you ride it out, pulse pounding in your ears. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t rush you. Arousal dripping down his longer fingers, past his knuckles, dripping onto the couch beneath him.

“God, look at yourself” he muses, your eyes flickering up to your reflection in the mirror making you drop your head onto his shoulder. The strong scent of cologne coming from his suit puts you in a daze.

“Do you have no manners?” his words catch you off guard, you look at him confused.

“Sorry?”

“What’re you supposed to say when someone does something for you?” you didn’t know what he was talking about. Until it hit you. He wanted you to thank him for letting you ride his fingers. Oh wow, what a jerk. A hot one.

You hate how fast you obey, looking down at his lips.

“Thank you, sae” you said quietly, voice shaking. Maybe from embarrassment or maybe from finishing so hard around him.

He lets out a pleased hum, finally pulling his fingers out leaving you empty and cold. He fixes your thong, not that it changes much.

He takes his fingers pressing them against your lips. You part them, taking them into your mouth, tongue swirling around them, cleaning them up real good.

“Good girl”

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A/n: not edited

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

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mutuals i am politely asking you what color i remind you of

Leather and Lace

BikerBakugou x Ballet instructor

Part 1

It wasn’t uncommon for you to not pay attention to your surroundings, especially when it came to crowed surroundings. You often got lost in the vibrations the rippled across the floor and climbed up to your ankles as what ever song boomed from the stage that you purposely stayed far away from. Crowds weren’t your thing, but they were certainly called to your friend who always seemed to rope you into coming to things like this. If Mina knew a lot of people would be some where, best believe she planned to be there first.

Your phone is set to silent and slid into your back pocket just as your finger pressed send on your last message to the ass hole you’d just met this morning. If his sheer disinterest and lack of human decency wasn’t enough to scrunch your nose in disgust, his teasing messages about paying attention to ‘the set’ surely were able to send a crippling anxiety up your spine. You knew from the moment you met him you didn’t like him one bit- and judging by the cocky glint in his eyes that were set on you as you look up to the stage, you knew you never would.

“I’m going to get some air.” You call to Mina, who was swaying to the music that had yet to start playing. “It’s getting stuffy in here.”

“What!? Jiros about to start playing.” You recognized the high pitched whine in her voice and recoiled as her hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you planted as you desperately wished to run. “They’re only playing 3 songs, we’ll head out after! She said she’d meet us in the side alley anyway! You’ll get your air later.”

You knew that even if you wanted to (which you did) Mina wouldn’t let you miss your friend’s debut as the new lead guitarist. You just couldn’t shake the burning feeling of disbelief and anger as your eyes scan the stage, locking Eyes briefly the the drummer. You felt guilty for wanting to ditch Jiros performance but after the very short interaction and the texts from the man still watching you- you wished you could.

-

Thirty minutes pass painfully slow, every song was followed with a talking segment that lasted far too long and every song seemed to play in for hours opposed to the few short minutes they actually echoed around you. On top of your clear distaste for one of the members onstage- the crowed had begun to go wild with every passing second. You’d been bumped, elbowed and stepped on more times than you could count before Mina excitedly pulled you away from the crowed and into the ally to meet Jiro.

“Babe what gives!?” She all but shrieks as the cold wind brushes over your warm skin. “She was killin it up there and you didn’t even bib your head!”

“Sorry Mina, I just-.” You pause, unsure of what exactly you should tell her. It wasn’t fair to Jiro that a man you met a single time could ruin your night and take away any effort you had to support her. “The drummer is a dick and I didn’t know he’d be here. It just put me in a sour mood to see him up there with our girl.”

“You know Bakugou?” She asks in bewilderment, her eyes glued to the door that opens beside where the two of you stood. “Well come back to this- Jiro!! You rocked!”

Jiro was the first of four people to join you in the ally, her smile the brightest you’ve ever seen, making your guilt grow further. You really should have ignored your personal feelings and supported her the way she deserved. She was glowing, and pulling Mina into and offering you a happy wave.

“Not a fan of our music?” The gravely voice you’d heard speak a single sentence laughs from beside you. With Mina gushing to the only other person you knew here, you had no choice but to turn to face him. “I thought we did pretty good up there, so why were you scowling?”

Your breath hitches as your head turns, he was far too close for comfort and it offered you the perfect view of his very sweaty tshirt that held his crossed arms. You can’t help but take a step back, moving your eyes from his chest to meet his eyes quickly. Just like before, he seemed absolutely uninterested in your presence dispute is attempt at getting a rise out of you.

“Because your presence makes me sick.” The shaky undertone of your voice was evident, and it made his smirk grow even further. “You’re an ass, and frankly if I knew you’d be here I’d have stayed home.”

“A nameless face in the crowd wouldn’t be missed anyway, extra.” His voice was wrapped dangerously with arrogance driven venom, and it made your neck burn to hold eye contact. “The nerd sent me the money you owed me.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Finally, you find the courage to cross your own arms and glare at him. “You didn’t deserve a single penny.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for replacing the shit your dumb ass damaged?” The wind blows around you, picking up scattered pieces of trash as he waits for an answer he knew he wasn’t getting. “Curious why he paid your debt though, the guy can’t pull so I know you aren’t dating the guy.”

“For your information jackass, he has a girlfriend and has for a while.” If there’s one thing you’d put your sudden nerves away for, it would be to defend someone as kind and sweet as your neighbor. “He paid for it so I wouldn’t tell my dad what you do for a living. Again- you’re welcome.”

The others have begun to make their way toward the two of you, happy smiles and upbeat conversation traveling between them as your hate filled conversation with their friend remains obvious to them. You weren’t sure if he’d told any of his band mates how he knew you or why you’d been staring holes into his head during the performance, but you were sure none of them were aware of your fathers career or how easily you could ruin the cocky blondes beside you.

“The hell would I care what your dad thinks?” It’s sad to admit but you enjoy the fact that he’s unaware of how easily you could get him in legal trouble. You have half a mind to tell him, but he opens his mouth before you can. “You aren’t the only person who knows a police officer.”

“How-?” Your friends look between you, worried and confused glances shared between you and Bakugou as your mouth hangs open. Did Izuku tell him? “Did-?”

“Don’t think that you could ever put me in a position to ask you for a favor, including keeping your mouth shut.”

———

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I hope you enjoy

This Katsuki AU

-Parchy💖

———

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so who’s making this band with me?

wait wait wait mutuals rb this with a description of ur voice

ARE YOU DONE WITH S1 FOR BL? I NEED YOU TO AEE THIS EDIT

I AM YESS IM ON EPISODE 8 OF SEASON 2

toke….you have crushed my soul…i was so excited too 😔 i hate this day so much 😔😔