Designed My Own Spiderzuku !!

— hq boys as soft, flirty moments

♡ suna r., atsumu m., osamu m., oikawa t. -> hq masterlist

♡ missed writing for them (suna) so much

— suna’s palm flattens itself against your lower back, he brushes past the crowd and bends down to lowly speak into your ear. a compliment can barely be heard over the blaring music but a heat spreads through your body nevertheless at the smirk that’s spread itself on suna’s face.

— atsumu is always asking for simple favors. only for his hands to wrap around yours when you hand him the waterbottle, or the remote, or his phone…he can’t help it, really, he just gets a little nervous around you and forgets how to flirt.

— osamu has made it a habit to bend down and give you a kiss on your cheek every-time you leave a gathering. he’s very slick with it, the action almost unnoticeable to everyone. well, everyone but atsumu, who shoves his twin and whispers, “make a move already, dumbass.”

— oikawa’s gaze meets yours. the group continues to laugh at a joke he’s made and yet the only reaction he really cares about is yours. you give him a small smile, nodding in his way, to which he returns with a wink and a nod. it’s a small gesture, one you know you shouldn’t read too into, but you can’t help the warmth your heart feels.

not to be horny on main, but thinking about the height difference between hobie and his s/o and how he likes teasing them whenever, be it in public w/ him putting his head in theirs, wrapping his arms around their waist, getting things for them… and also ofc, pulling them onto his lap, trapping their hands with one of his, dwarfing them in pretty much every position, hobie using it to his as advantage when getting frisk in a wall…

i am so delusional for this man!!!

─ : 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

★ cw: smutty themes, explicit phases, size kink.

★ notes: thinking thoughts...

𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 loves hugging you, he loves to smother your face into his chest absolutely crushing you, you whine about it but he knows otherwise. He can trap you within his arms for as long as he wants and you cannot get out because of his spidy strength. He’ll trap you there and place kisses everywhere on your face just cause he likes to make you giggle. 

He loves to pin your hands above your head and suck hickies all over your neck, using his strength as an advantage once again. When he’s balls deep inside you, he often does the same thing, imprisoning your hands in between his while pounding hard and fast into your tiny pussy. He laughs at your pathetic attempts in trying to free your hands. 

During spider society meetings he’ll keep one hand secured tightly around your waist, squeezing your hip every now and then. 

He’s the kind of person who likes to have eye contact while talking, he’ll hook one finger under your chin and tilt your head up, making sure you look at him properly while he speaks, of course, he knows how flustered this makes you and he enjoys every second of it. “Look at me while I speak, babe.” 

While he’s practicing a new song on his guitar, he likes to have you sit on his lap, sometimes even letting you play, his voice low and raspy against your ear, while his veiny hands guide you to the right string. This usually ends with him thrusting his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt.

french toast

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

an: enabled by @babiemay thank her for giving me the BIGGEST best friends older brother sukuna brain rot i've ever had in my life. (ooc sukuna again btw)

**part of my best friends (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

--

based on the seventeen years that sukuna has known you, he figures that you’ve already worked up some type of overthinking storm in your head when you arrive at his apartment two days later. and he knows for a fact that he’s right, because you’re at his doorstep with a pinched look on your face, clutching your purse like you’re about to get robbed. 

“hi pretty girl. did someone make an attempt on your life today?” 

you can feel your cheeks burning at the term of endearment, so phased you can barely coherently respond - or understand - what it is he said. 

“no?” you respond, nearly sweating under his eye contact as he smiles. 

“then why are you looking at me like you think i’m going to eat you?” he asks, annoyed as he gestures for you to walk into the kitchen. 

you feel your head run in a spiral, at the implication of his words, as he places his hands flat on your shoulders, and guides you to sit at the stool on his little kitchen island. the entire ordeal - the breakfast, the fact that he’s peeling off your coat and pressing a kiss to your temple, and the lingering touches - they make your skin burn, almost itch with nervousness. 

he stands on the other side of the counter, leaning forward on his forearms, as he smiles at you. and you try your best to figure out what exactly it is that’s beaming in his eyes as he leans forward. 

“pick your poison.” 

you feel yourself pale. 

“huh?” 

he frowns, as he leans back. 

“for breakfast? what did you want to eat?” he clarifies. 

you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“anything’s okay. don’t trouble yourself. i-i can even help.” 

you walk over to his side, pulling up your sleeves and giving him a peachy smile, as he takes the opportunity to step towards you. your back hits the counter and sukuna makes it a point - resting both of his arms at your sides - as he traps you within his hold. 

“talk.” he states, almost sternly. 

“hm?” 

sukuna leans closer, leaning his forehead against yours, as he takes a deep breath. it reminds you vividly, of two nights ago, when he pulled you straight onto his lap. and murmured into your skin that you were his pretty girl. and that he was going to prove it to you. 

“talk.” he states, the tone in his voice irritated. 

you look up at him, at his eyes razor focused in on yours, and spot no inclination of irritation on his face. despite the fact that you were almost positive that it was dripping from his tone. though, you always found him particularly hard to read.  

“now.” he murmurs. 

you sigh. 

“what are you trying to do right now?” you ask. 

he rolls his eyes. there’s the irritation you were hearing. 

“make you breakfast.” he deadpans. 

“is that all?” 

“what are you getting at?” he asks. 

sukuna often finds that talking to you is like digging a hole. that it takes patience. because he’s not going to find what he’s looking for forthright. but he knows for a fact that there’s something down there. 

it’s aggravating. but he persists.  

“promise you won’t make fun?” you ask. 

“i will do no such thing.” 

“sukuna.” you whine, crossing your hands against your chest. 

sukuna finds this part of you endearing. because it reminds him of all the different ways he’s seen you. when you were four and barging into his house to play wii with his little brother, explaining barbie movies at the dinner table, and tagging along on his family vacation when he was fourteen. 

and how after all this time, you still have the same tendencies. you bounce your right leg when you’re nervous, tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re finished rambling, and curl your hands into little fists and cross your arms - entirely unable to meet his eyes - when you’re embarrassed. 

sukuna clears his throat, as you look up at him. and you know the expression all too well. that he’ll wait all day if he has to. 

“no making fun. i’m serious, sukuna.” 

“it’s almost like you know you’re going to say something stupid.” 

“don’t call my feelings stupid.” you murmur. 

“well, i’ll keep calling them stupid until you tell me what they are. i’ll be honest if you let me.” 

this is something you can appreciate about sukuna. that he won’t beat around the bush. or say things just to coddle. it’s the same as the other night, where you told him about what happened at the bar, when he didn’t rush to your defense like almost everyone else does. and when it comes to this, you figure that he’ll be straightforward. 

“are you trying to have sex with me right now?” you ask. 

you look at sukuna, specifically at the way his eyes widen, before he breaks out into a laugh. and not just any laugh, because he’s nearly keeling over with how amusing he finds it. howling even. and it makes even more blood rush to your cheeks, humiliated for even bringing it up. 

sukuna grins, lifting his hands up from the sides of the counter and wrapping them around your neck.you can feel your breath hitch in your throat, as you instinctively shut your eyes. he’s going to be straightforward. 

“your feelings are stupid.” he whispers, right into your skin. 

you pull back, staring at him dumbfounded, as he places one of his hands on your waist. and he’s staring back at you, the expression in his face slightly amused. 

“that’s not nice.” 

“i’m not a nice person.” 

it’s frustrating. the tone that he uses with you. it teeters between placating and teasing you and you find it hard to decide which one exactly it is. and it seeps right under your skin, lets your irritation come to a head faster than it usually would.

“okay, well. sue me! you had no problems doing god knows what in my room the other day. and-and then you were making jokes about how you were going to eat me. the second that i got here. and-and you know how you are-” 

“and what’s that?” 

you pause.

“what?” 

“you said you know how you are. well, i don’t. enlighten me please.” he clarifies. 

sukuna’s pleased with himself. because he’s figured out exactly what it is, that’s brewing in that head of yours. and naturally, he has every intention to make you mince your words. 

“you-” 

you’re not sure how to say this. if there’s a polite way to call him what he is. 

“i’m what? a manwhore?” he asks. 

“no! you-” 

“you think i’m a horny freak, right? that i want to lift you up, take your skirt off, and have you right here on my kitchen counter?” 

you feel your eyes go wide, as you swallow hard, and feel the nervousness take residence in your stomach. sukuna senses it fast enough and makes his efforts to diffuse it. 

“do you think i would only invite you here because i want you to please me? do you think that’s the only way i can enjoy your company?” 

you can feel yourself getting too overstimulated, your head nearly steaming - at the implication, at the way he’s looking at you, and the fact that his lips are a few feet away from yours - and his smug grin crawling underneath your skin and making you twitch. 

you cover your face with your hands, feeling the warmth on your palms, as you feel his hands curl around your wrists, prying them off of your face. and when you look up at him, at the soft smile on his face, as you can’t help but frown at him. 

“no…” 

sukuna smiles. 

“are you lying to me?” 

you deflate. 

“maybe a little.” 

sukuna secures his hands around your waist, before fully lifting you up and placing you on the counter. and he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek before he wordlessly starts rummaging through different cabinets in his kitchen and the fridge, fully intent on making you the breakfast you were promised. 

you can’t help but watch him, as he muses around his kitchen, slicing vegetables on the cutting board and fruits on the side. at how he entirely discards the conversation you just had like it was nothing. 

from two feet away, sukuna is very, very appreciative of you. because you’re not very proud. and despite your first attempts, you’re honest too. because he knows for a fact that your hesitation to state your thoughts is because you don’t want to write sukuna off as something so…lewd. even if you think it’s true. and that of course, any hesitation on your part comes from something deeper than him. 

the deep seated distaste you seem to have for yourself. though sukuna’s entirely unsure why it’s there in the first place. he slices a strawberry in half, letting the eggs cook at his side, before he makes a residence standing in between your legs. 

he hands you one of the halves of the strawberry, before popping the other in his mouth and leaning into your space. 

“i don’t think you’re a manwhore.” you clarify. 

“okay. i don’t think you’re one either.” he responds. 

you smile.

“but you do think that’s the only reason you’re here?” he pokes. 

“no! no, i don’t think that. i just-” 

you sigh, placing your hands flat on the fabric of his hoodie, as you crumple it into your fists. 

“sorry. i’m not very good at this type of thing. and-and you’re like…you know. reputation. and you obviously have needs! and megumi thinks you’re a womanizer.” 

sukuna snickers, as you release his hoodie, and you deflate slightly. mainly at the fact that he’s not offended. and letting you ramble - and say ten different things you shouldn’t - openly. 

sukuna doesn’t shy away from what exactly it is that you think of him. or what that godawful sea urchin megumi thinks either. because it’s naturally, quite simple. and somewhat true. because he finds it hard to stay in one place for a long time. and as you very keenly put it, he had needs. 

though, that rule, as sukuna was painstakingly reminded of, didn’t apply to you. because again, you transcended any normal guideline that sukuna had. which is why he was keen on making you breakfast two days later, on his day off. and make your favorite, which he specifically remembers from the camping trip. 

“i’m not sure what thing you’re referencing. and make no mistake. i don’t talk in tongues like you do. if i invite you over for breakfast, it’s because i want to eat breakfast with you.” he responds. 

“you were the one who said you were going to eat me.” you defend. 

“you were looking at me like you were scared of me. like how prey looks at a predator before it gets eaten?” 

“oh.” 

sukuna pushes off the counter as he starts plating the food onto and feels his ego inflate when you jump off the counter and cling to his arm when you realize what exactly it is that he made. 

“sukuna. i love french toast!” 

“yes. i’m well aware.” 

"how'd you know?" you ask.

sukuna looks over at you, the look in his eyes so devious, that you know you've certainly walked into something by stating it.

"you told us. on the camping trip. you've always been my pretty girl. even when you were fourteen."

you barely have time to even stomach what it is that he said as he lifts both plates as he makes a gesture for you to follow, seating the two of you back on his kitchen island. and when you settle in, sukuna gets to pick at your mind, with the questions that have been stuck in his head for the past two days. 

“before i divulge my manwhore adventures for you, you have to indulge me first. how many guys have you dated? or talked to?” sukuna asks. 

you hate sukuna’s choice of words sometimes. indulge. it’s almost like he knows he’s saying words that make you nervous. that make the sweat accumulate on the palms of your hands. 

“where’d you learn how to make french toast like this?” you ask, deflecting. 

“i asked first.” 

you swirl the eggs around on the plate - moving them from the left, to the right, and back to the left - before you answer. 

“i had a crush on this guy named dean from sixth grade to eighth grade. all of the boys in school got dared to slow dance with different girls and he picked me. it was an awkward four minutes of halo by beyonce but i loved him after that. he was funny. and cute.” 

“did you date?” he asks. 

“oh, of course not. he started liking this girl named kimi in eighth grade.” 

sukuna’s not exactly sure if this is the question he asked. but you keep going. and it’s intriguing to him nonetheless. 

“in my sophomore year of highschool, i had a crush on this guy named parker. he was kind of nerdy, like the stupid type? my english teacher would always put us in group projects together, and when i asked him why, he said it was because he wanted us to get married.” 

“that’s an appropriate thing to say to a fifteen year old.” sukuna bites. 

“no! my teacher had this dream to go to two of his students weddings, that met in his class.” 

“and what killed that extremely inapprorpiate dream, dead in its tracks?” 

“my best friend. we all somehow ended up in the same friends group our junior year. and they kind of started flirting. dated all the way till our freshman year of college.” you respond. 

sukuna curbs the question that comes to the forefront of his mind. because it occurs to him that his plausible answer to it, one that he despises, is exactly what’s going to be the answer. that if they liked each other, you were going to let them. despite the fact that you liked him first. 

“any more for me?” sukuna asks. 

“my first boyfriend was in my senior year of highschool.” 

sukuna feigns shock, as you fight the urge to laugh. 

“have we finally arrived to a real boyfriend?” 

you laugh, as you settle your hand into his underneath the table. there’s something so inviting about him, the way he’s hanging off the ends of your words and listening intently, that makes you continue. 

“we don’t speak his name.” you state. 

“oh?” 

“he’s not a good guy. we dated until….my freshman year of college. december. and we officially stopped talking the summer of my sophomore year.” you state. 

sukuna bites the urge to ask every question in his mind. on who this guy is, why you continued to talk to him almost an entire year after, and most importantly, why you haven’t talked to anyone else since. 

except for him anyways. for the first time, sukuna finds himself being the exception. in a way that’s favorable to him. 

“that’s all of them! your turn.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s all?” 

“mhm! it’s kind of boring, i’m assuming. in comparison to you.” 

sukuna concludes one thing. that all three of these men, especially the last, were not deserving of you. in the slightest. and that each one had wrecked a sizeable amount of havoc. he curses himself for not paying attention when he was still there.

“oh definitely. you’d need to stay here all day if you wanted to here that.” 

you smile brightly. 

“that can be arranged.” you respond. 

sukuna leans forward, lips a few feet away from yours, before he speaks again. 

“you like to play hard to get, don’t you?” sukuna asks. 

“what? what do you mean?” 

sukuna places his hands on the rung of your chair, before pulling it flesh with his own. and he tests the waters, by placing his hand on your bare knee, right near the pleats of your black skirt. and he feels you instinctively press your legs together, but make no moves to push him off. 

“i didn’t make the list?” 

you swallow hard, entirely embarrassed. though, your first real crush you supposed is naturally the one that you’ve denied, vehemently, since you were four years old and yuuji asked you in passing. 

because when your eyes lingered on him for too long, after he fixed the wii controls and dutifully handed you both your controllers back - of his wii, that he was letting you play on - yuuji halfmindedly asked the question. 

why are you looking at him like that? do you like him or something? 

it was a joke, of course. because yuuji just asked so he could start the match of wii tennis while you weren’t paying attention. that in the rush of it, you never got to consider the answer to it in full. though you suppose there’s no better time to answer it than now. 

“i have this best friend. his name is yuuji.” you start. 

sukuna’s alarmed. so alarmed that he pulls his hand off of your thigh, retreating it behind his back. 

surely you didn’t really like yuuji. because that would stop whatever it was that was blooming right now. because he was not his brother, despite their identical pink hair. the farthest thing from it actually. 

“i met him when i was four. and i barged into his house because he wanted me to play wii with him. you see, his big brother didn’t really like to play with him so he figured that i was the next best thing.” you state. 

“he had greasy hands. so did you. it was disgusting.” he states. 

“and yuuji didn’t know how to turn on the game. or-or remember which one it was in. so he called his very cool, much older brother, to help us. i’d never met a six year old before, and naturally if i had, i wouldn’t have thought he was so cool.” 

“shut up.” 

sukuna desperately wants you to continue. 

“seemed like the real serious type. kind of quiet. dark blue shirt, black shorts. the socks that only go to your ankles. i didn’t even know that his name was sukuna until a few days later, when he walked with us to school. he didn’t even introduce himself to me.” 

“did you want to know him that badly?” 

“and he fixed the remote, obviously. had some six year knowledge we didn’t clearly. and-and he turned to me. gave me a smile before he handed one to me and walked away.” you state, shrugging at him. 

sukuna’s satiated with your answer. mostly because, it seems you seem to remember the ordeal in as excruticating detail as he has. that you were wearing a pink dress, gold earrings, and a ribbon in your hair. that your skin was the softest he had ever felt, that you were the first girl who had brushed fingers with him when he handed you the remote, save for his mom of course 

sukuna brings his hand back into your hair, feeling the fabric of the blue ribbon in your hair today, matching with the short cardigan that you were wearing. and he wants to keep this one too. yank it out of your hair and secure it to his keys next to the pink one he refused to return. 

sukuna looks down at the fabric, at your hair sprawled over your shoulder. he can make out the length of your collarbone from underneath your tanktop and settles his lips right into divot, before pressing a lingering kiss into your skin and feeling you keel over in his arms. 

“france.” he murmurs, right into your skin. 

“what’s that?” you ask, dazed from the contact. 

“i learned to make the french toast in france.”

he kisses up the length of your neck, making no inclination to stop even as you barely stutter your words out. and for the second time, can't resist and places his hands on your waist just to pull you straight on top of him.

"makes sense. that's just-just toast for them." you mumble.

sukuna can't help but laugh. he's never going to tire of you.

--

an: ask for a part three I DARE you. (no I really don't but if I did write one reader is meeting sukuna's friends AND the guy who called her ugly ends up being one of them. anyways.)

taglist: @ghostreadersthings @porridgesblog  @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks

his fantasy!au design is something..

favourite t-shirt

notes: hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader (2.4k words)

warnings: insecure makki, talk of having children, suggestive

heavily influenced by favourite t-shirt - jake scott this song has had a chokehold on me forever

masterlist

there wasn’t an ounce of his attention on the film. he’s only looking at the screen but the thoughts in his head are elsewhere: you’re close enough to him to distract him from the action movie he picked out twenty minutes ago.

even after seeing you for a few months now, he still couldn’t believe you were his. of all the thoughts running through his mind its the one that’s making him question what he did to deserve you that’s running fastest.

what did he do to make you, the former manager of the aoba johsai volleyball club, change your opinion on him? what did he do that made you start to look at him like you do now? what did he do right to deserve the place by your side when he knows you’re loved by anyone and everyone?

he might not know what he’s done to deserve this but he’s making the most of every second he’s got you there. he doesn’t know if or when this will end.

you’re so invested in the film you don’t even realise you lean against him the way you do. he’s tense for a second; it’s not the first time you’ve been close to him like this. there have been more private moments shared but there’s something even more intimate about it this time.

his arm moves around your shoulder, pulling you as close to him as you can be. you only notice for a second, glancing up at him with a smile that has his mind whirling with even more with thoughts he wished would go away.

it’s too soon for what he thinks next.

the words are on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out before he can fully think them through. with just that little smile; one that lasted maybe a second before you were looking at the tv screen again, he knows you’re the woman for him.

he’s fallen hard and fast. in four simple months, he’s discovered so much about himself: he’s hopelessly in love with you.

he wants to say it. to shout it from the rooftops in fact, but he doesn’t know if you’re ready to hear that or if you even want to hear that from him. why would you, the girl of his dreams, want him when he can’t even keep a job?

it’s almost as if you can sense the worry from beside you, your hand coming to take hold of his in a simple, comforting grasp. you’re looking up to him again, the light of the screen reflecting the colour of your eyes beautifully.

the thoughts are back and he’s fighting with his own mind in fear he’ll ruin everything with three little words.

even as you stand from the couch, coming back to sit on his lap comfortably with a leg on either side of his torso. he almost stops breathing as your hands come to his shoulders and a sweet, innocent, sultry smile sits on your face. you’re one move away from him telling you everything in his mind that’s screaming he wants you.

you only kiss him once, much to his dismay. it’s not short; it’s not long but it’s enough to have his heart pounding in his chest as your hands wander from his broad shoulders to his chest and he’s praying you can’t feel how nervous he’s got with such a simple thing.

after everything you’ve done together, he shouldn’t be so easily riled up but he can’t control it.

you kiss his cheek. you kiss his jaw. you kiss his neck.

with every peck on his skin, his heart is hammering in his chest and his hands squeeze your waist in an attempt to calm himself down.

he could laugh at himself with the way he was acting; he could hear mattsun’s mockery at the idea a woman was making him this nervous. he would be the subject of every joke for a month; he’d tell all of their friends.

or they’d think he was playing some sort of joke.

they could hardly believe he was even in a relationship: he hadn’t been able to keep on longer than a week for some time now and matsukawa loved to remind it of him constantly. even if the two of you had been dating for months now, he was convinced you would end it eventually, if hanamaki didn’t.

he’s brought back to reality when you’re hands sneak down his abdomen and he flinches when your cold fingers touched his bare skin. his breathing hitches as your hands push further up, his shirt bundling up as you pull back and look at him.

he’s a mess below you with a blush painting his face and his hands barely secure on your waist. he’s certain if he moves them it’ll be even more obvious how nervous he’s gotten.

looking at your face he feels his nerves even more; his breathing now speeding up he’s watching the way your lips curve into a smile. you’re leaning down again with your mocking smile still sitting on your face, kissing him rougher than before.

his arms snake around your waist again, pulling you as close as possible as his lips moved in synch with yours. by the time you’re pulling away you’re giggling at the way he’s panting. he can’t say anything; he’s not got the breath to do anything.

the way you’re looking at him with your lipstick smeared around your lips reminds him of the first time the two of you were in this position sat in the back of his car with a blanket wrapped around you.

that time your hands were more focused on other things that left him breathless but it’s almost the exact same situation as he’s in right now with you just barely grazing his lips with your own; leaving him yearning for more.

that memory is enough to spur him on at the moment, his arms keeping hold of you securely as he stood. your legs wrap around his waist tightly as you squeal with a laugh. he’s kissing you now; he’s decided it’s his turn to take the initiative.

waking up the next morning, he can’t feel your warmth like he expected. instead, the covers are pulled back on the side of the bed you fell asleep on; your clothes are still scattered around his room; he knows you’re still in the house but he’d much rather wake up to you in his arms.

however, you opening his door while towel drying the ends of your hair is enough of a sight for him to stop caring that he’s alone in bed. especially when you’re wearing the dumb shirt he loves with the crappy sexual innuendo scribbled across your chest.

it’s covering the tops of your legs but, when you’re reaching up in a stretch it rises up enough for him to see the marks he left on your thigh the night before. smirking to himself, he averts his eyes before you can say anything.

you walk to the side of the bed, leaning down to kiss him only to be grabbed and pulled onto the bed; he rolls over so you’re trapped under his body unable to move. “hiro.” you giggle, your arms around his neck as you hold him tight against you–you may joke and complain about his recent clinginess but you’re just the same.

he hopes you can’t feel his heart hammering in his chest against you when you kiss the top of his head. he could fall asleep against you like that until the offer of you cooking breakfast comes up. as much as he would love to stay in bed with you all day the idea of you in an apron is just as appealing.

you're bouncing down the stairs, leaving makki in bed lying on his back as he realised he wasn’t just in love with you. there was something more there; you were his everything.

he’s following you shortly afterwards, his heart skipping a beat once more when you’re in his sight standing in front of his stove. he’s behind you in an instant, hands coming around your waist and holding you close.

it’s a sight he’d pay to see again. maybe every morning. maybe, when you’ve grown together, he can have your children on his hip while you look like this to give you a break from the constant screaming and crying of the newborn, or you’ll be holding your son while he’s cooking a meal.

he’s found a solid job by then.

you turn in his grip, unaware of the hypothetical plans he’s making in his head, and stare up at him with doe-like eyes and a smile on your face. your hands stroke up his arms; resting your arms on his shoulders you’re on your tiptoes to give him a soft kiss.

he pulls you in closer when you try to pull back; kissing you harder not caring that the food might be burning. in fact, with his hand roaming your body just like they were the night before, you’re switching everything off and enjoying the moment with him.

the food can always be reheated.

it’s stupid how giddy he feels when you’re near him; it’s crazy how his skin is covered in goosebumps at the lingering touches you leave on him. just a tiny scrape of your fingertips on him is enough to drive him insane; he loves every second of it.

you’re back in the shower after the breakfast interruption and makki finds himself in need of advice; there’s only one person he thinks of contacting. he’s quick to explain it all and iwaizumi lets out a small chuckle at the thought of his nonchalant friend struggling with his own feelings.

“just tell her.” is all he can say but makki’s not ready to say it yet.

you’re back in his shirt when you’re out of the shower, instead this time you’d opted for a pair of legging to go underneath and you’re climbing back into bed beside where he’s sat. you’re tired again and in need of a small nap before you head home for the day.

you don’t want to though if it wasn’t for the afternoon shift you were scheduled in for he would be trying to keep you there beside him.

you’re groggy when you wake up. wiping your eyes and moving so your head is in his lap. you’re immediately distracting him from the video playing on his phone. “morning.” he jokes, his free hand coming to stroke through your hair. you smile up at him, returning the greeting before you’re lifting yourself up.

it’s almost time for you to leave. in fact, it’s already too late for you to do everything you usually would before work.

“i’ll drive you.” he’s saying, throwing a jacket over his clothes whilst you pick up the few pieces still scattered. you smile thanks to him; grabbing one of his jackets over the t-shirt you’ve forgotten you’re wearing.

he grins when he follows you out; he’s glad you’ve forgotten it's his clothes you’re wearing because that means he’ll be seeing you again very soon when you realise you need to return it.

you’re chatting away to him happily as he drives you to your building, dreading the moment you walked away the entire time. but you’re in a rush now and you’re jumping out of the car the moment it’s parked, running over to the driver’s side and smiling at him as he lowered his window.

“i’ll call you later.” you assure him with a smile kissing him through the window one more time before you’re running inside.

and hanamaki is left with his thoughts once more as he watches you; making sure he doesn’t even think about leaving until he sees you turn, wave and safely enter your building.

his head falls forward, resting on the back of his hands gripping the top of the steering wheel as he lets out a sigh–he’ll blurt it out the next time he sees you for sure.

he’s reaching the point of desperation when he calls oikawa tooru through the bluetooth of his car, the man complaining about a wake-up call the second he picks ups, reminding makki of the time difference, but he’s also concerned as to why his friend is calling at this time (for him).

he doesn’t explain much: the full story isn’t needed but what is needed is advice. advice from someone who won’t relentlessly tease or laugh off his worry as something that wasn’t a big deal.

makki loved his friends; how could he not after this many years of them being stuck in his life? but, of all of them, he knew the only one that would be brutally honest with him was oikawa, especially when he’s slightly agitated from being woken up with a sudden call.

oikawa’s silent as makki finishes filling him in and makki’s growing more nervous as he waits for the man, that’s had much more like with the ladies, to give him a needed piece of advice.

“are you an idiot!” oikawa’s fully awake now. there’s no way he couldn’t be with the stupidity he was hearing from his long term friend. he’s completely amazed with the thought that you’re probably in the exact same boat as your boyfriend but neither of you thinks the other feels the same (had oikawa kept in touch with you too he’d be phoning you in seconds to subtly spill the beans) and now you’re tiptoeing away from happiness.

makki doesn’t know how to respond, choosing silence instead as oikawa groans and finally gives his advice.

“tell her.” he pauses like that’s all he has to say when he’s trying to find the words that will go through makki’s, apparently, thick head. “she’s seen you date people, yeah you’re relationship's lasted longer than usual this time, but she won’t think that it’s because you love her.” frustrated with his friend, and wanting to go back to sleep, he hangs up after one more piece of guidance and a mumbled goodbye.

“if you love her, you love her. time has nothing to do with this. you’ve known her for years anyway; you won’t lose her that easily.”

makki sighs to himself as he hears the tone signalling the end of the call and, for once in his life, he’s agreeing with oikawa. who cares if he’s moving quickly, he loves you and what’s the point of that if he can’t even show you?

so, when you finally remember to return his favourite t-shirt and his jacket, he’s ready to tell you everything.

you beat him to the punch, however. nervously stammering out the three words he was once scared of; praying he feels the same and, if the bright smile on his face wasn’t obvious enough, he does.

student sukuna au inspired by this beautiful art by inkedberries (galaxy brain moment), please check their other arts as well!

get a taste // tomura shigaraki

a/n: in the gc talking abt vape and cig discourse between dabi n shigs -> fujos out a bit -> wait this is kinda hot -> sick n twisted brainrot aaaahhh

you reach over and press your index finger right in between his eyebrows.

there's nearly nothing that could melt that scowl from tomura's face- especially when everyone's behind him obnoxiously crowded around the bar with playing cards and drinks in hand, the music's a bit too loud for his liking, and he's having a hard time focusing.

"tomura, i can't take you seriously with that thing attached to your mouth like a fucking binky." you call over the music, dropping your hand back into your lap.

his eyes slowly travel up from his phone screen to meet yours. you weren't even sure if he caught anything you said over the blaring music, but you could still read the irritation in his face. his gaze flickers back and forth between the clash of clans running on his phone and you.

he blinks once. twice.

tomura drops the vape from his mouth, letting it fall into his lap, and without missing a beat, blows the intoxicatingly sweet smoke into your face, engulfing you whole with a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

"better than whatever the fuck you're smoking over there, right?" he nods towards the half smoked cigarette in between your fingers that you stole from touya's pack.

"better?" you roll your eyes, waving away the lingering smoke. "grow up, tomu. you're smoking birthday cake flavored nicotine. you haven't even smoked a cigarette before."

"i don't need to smoke it to know it tastes like shit." he stretches his legs over your lap, leaning back against the armrest of the couch.

you turn your hand around, facing the orange filter of the cigarette towards him. with your eyebrow slightly cocked and mouth parted into a smirk, tomura knew it was less of an invitation, but rather a dare. a challenge.

"go ahead, babe. give it a try if you're not a bitch."

tomura wets his lips with his tongue. his gaze drops down to the lipstick stained orange filter hanging from between your fingers. he wonders if he could taste your chapstick residue on it, or what your skin smells like brushed against his nose.

would you put your lips on it right after his drag? willingly taste him?

he silently cursed himself.

"pass." he scoffs, turning his head to the side, unsure if the heat crawling up his neck had taken form in a flush. 

he was halfway surprised that you hadn't noticed his piercing stare every time your lips wrapped around the cigarette for a drag. he swore the desperate look in his eyes was so obvious- a silent wish that it was him between your lips instead.

you press your lips together in a line as you take another glance around the room. everyone seemed occupied. drunk. sloppy. no one's paying attention.

you lean forward, catching his face in your free hand, and forcing him to look up towards you.

"the fuck-" he starts.

"don't freak out, tomu." you interrupt. "you know what to do."

you hum to yourself as you bring your fingers up to your lips, deeply inhaling the bitter tang of burnt tobacco.

your eyes remained locked onto tomura's. he's looking at you in a sickly satisfying horror with his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and mouth slightly gaped open from your firm grasp on his jaw.

he squirms a bit under your grasp, but tomura doesn’t look away from you- he doesn't dare to. not with you over him like this and your face only inching closer to his.

you pull yourself down over him, mere millimeters away from connecting your lips.

the smoke slowly wisp out of your mouth and into his- a slow acceptance before both of your eyes flutter shut and you empty your lungs into his. 

you feel his hands climb up the side of your thighs and rest on your hips, lightly squeezing you through the fabric of your pants.

"fuck." he mutters, trails of smoke escaping his mouth.

"yummy?" you chuckle, exhaling any remnants of smoke in your lungs.

it doesn't seem like you care or noticed at all, but all tomura could think about was you straddling him on the couch and your warm thighs hugging his torso.

he felt hot all over, his lungs were burning, there's a bitter taste in the back of his throat, his head feels light, and despite it all, he wanted more.

"do you, um, wanna taste mine?"

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0

I miss friendly neighborhood spider-man!sero :(

BUBBLE POP ELECTRIC

♥︎ ﹑ TOUYA TODOROKI

while you’d usually ignore texts from numbers you didn’t recognize, this one has your curiosity piqued. what did he say his name was again? touya? main masterlist ♡ mha masterlist ♡ more touya

CW. language, crude & dark humor, crime talk, petnames, freader, legally inaccurate and probably impossible. I’m obsessed w him CRED. divs by animatedglittergraphics-n-more and cafekitsune

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