"We shouldn't be doing this," Aizawa says, the pads of his fingers pressing into the squishy skin of your cheek as he grips it with one hand, prying your lips off of his. "This is- it's inappropriate, you're my-"
You kiss him again, and despite his objections he reciprocates. His beard tickles you, not quite as scratchy and unkempt as when he first hired you. He has time to take care of himself now. The bags under his eyes- well, they're still there, but much less deep and purple. You know that taking you on as Eri's nanny is the best decision he's made in a while. And with the way you can feel him beginning to grow against your thigh, perhaps the worst as well.
"That's what makes it fun," you say, trying to convince him as your hands snake into his hair. "That's what makes it sexy. Fucking the hot, young babysitter- it's a cliche for a reason, Shota."
"Fuck," he grumbles, nipping at your lip. "Fuck. I'm not that guy. That's not me, I don't fuck younger women who- who I pay to care for my child, I-"
"You're a man," you moan, gripping his hair and pulling it taut. "A man who's been lonely for too long. Wouldn't it be nice to have a wet, hot cunt to sink your cock in?"
"Was this your plan all along?" He growls, walking you back against the living room wall. "Put on your sweet little dresses and take care of my daughter just to seduce me?"
"No," you giggle, arching into him as your back meets the wall. "I'm too good at my job to just do it for a fuck. Getting you to bend me over the sofa and rail me is just... An added perk."
"You're a minx," he says, defeated. "I shouldn't do this."
"But you will... Won't you?"
In a movent so quick and smooth you'd think he was getting laid nightly if you didn't know better, he hooks his hands under your thighs and hoists you up, his erection pressing against your cotton panties. You whimper at the contact, trying to buck against him for an ounce of friction.
"And burn in hell for it."
*cracks knuckles* okay let’s try this
it’s still me!! your favorite leigh!!
rbs are appreciated!! <3
I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you..I̵̛̛͇̰͔̳̟̦̩͐̒̒̏̄̚͘I will kill to kiss you. I will kill to kiss you. ̷͍̗̻̰̹̝́̓̑̍̀̏͆̏ẁ̵̻̱̤͇͍̱̅͐̍̅̅̀͘͘ḯ̵͍̰̹̲͍͎̹̯̓̐̿̓̆̄̈́͝ͅl̴͉̀͂̈́̃̄͌͒̽̚ļ̶̧̯̯̲͙̦̑̿̽̚͜ͅ ̸̯̟͆͆̓̑̂̊̚͜k̸̨͙͉̞̺̬̳̉͆̓̈̽͂̍͘͘̚i̷̯͎̯̇̽͐̈́̎͐̒̐̕l̸͎͐̚ĺ̵̺̥͖̥͒̔̋͗͌͒̍ ̵͚̙̗̑̂͊͗ͅt̶̛̹̤̳͛̒̌̔̂̿̅̽ǫ̴̲̘͈̰̺̝͌̐̾̕ ̴͔̥̘̝͖͇͓̦͉́̎̎̀k̶̡͓̥͍͓̝̙̊͛̈́͘i̵͙̩̺̮̦͖̖͍͛́s̴̡̹̳͎̠̗̞̭̞͐̅̍͝͝s̵̨̨̨̢̢̡͓̭̜͈̓̆ ̷̨̖͍̝͙͓̼̬̐͒̆̐̂̇̇͑̌͝y̷̨̺̞͕̦̦̔̄͂̍̿ŏ̸̖͊̀͋͆͆͝͝ṳ̴̡̡͔̝͖̰͆͜.̷̝̪̮̺͍̖͔̋̄̾̈́̎̇́̈͗̏ ̷͕̾̂́̀́̂̄̂̉͝I̴̮͒̑͂̑́̍́̀͋ ̶͚̲̩͈̝̩̓ẅ̵͉̯́i̵̧̤̱̺̮͚̖̒̒̓̐l̵̤̜͈̹̊͊͌͒̕l̵͔̺̘̼͎̤̠̞͙̯̓͑͂͂ ̸̺͎̦̲̩͕̟͂̃̽́̅̽̓k̴̗͎̖̯̹̈͐ḯ̶̧̙̥͈͚̰̪̥̀͒̓̇͛̊͆͝l̸͖̺̫̺̺̱͈̱͑̋̚l̶͕̓̑̚ ̶̦̼̰̈́͒͂͊t̷̡̥̟̤̭̳̉̋̂̂͐͂͠o̷̡̬̟̝̿̅̑̌̏̒͘ͅ ̵̢̹̹͚͍͆̔̿̆k̸̪̟̱̪̞͆̐́̊̀̉̍́̔͝ỉ̷̛̮̜̈́̆̿͌̾̕s̷̡̰͔̯̠͎̯̰̜̮̑͋̔̓̾s̷̟̜̒͑̀́͆ ̷̢̧̘̦̳̼̜̟͌͝y̵̟͐̽o̴̧̧͍̳͖̎̈͛u̷͓̍͋́͠.̷͎̖̺̙̫͐͋̈́ͅ ̸̢͖͙̺̹̫̊͌͒̉̚͝Ì̸̧̡̞͕̲͔̳͖̦̑̏̿̎͋̀ ̸̠̟̻̬͔́ẉ̷̣̲̼̒̽͛̄̓̑͆̽̚i̷̳̪̫̞͇̳͇͈͂̄̅̀̚̕͘͝l̷̤̗͎̽̾̽͝l̶͚̺̘̀͑̀̔̾̅͝ ̵͖̟͖͙̭̭͉̒̉̈̎͜͝ķ̶̛͓͚̱̠͎͕͋̈́͋͂i̵̳̜̭͖͗̉͒̓̐̉͂̆͘͝l̸͖͇͈͂̇́͌͂͝l̵̡̜̪̩̙̘̂͂̀̂̈́̏̈́̂ ̶̠̩͓̀̎͒̀͗̈̍̓̚ͅt̸̛͙́̀̒̾͝o̵͙̞͔̤̲̮̅̇̐̍͌̃̅ ̸̨̘̈́̽́̄̒͂̄̒͂͝ķ̸̰̮̱̣͎̪̪̆͜ḭ̸̛̭̖͕̖̪̤͎̮͎̋š̸̛̩̰̦͕̰̿͒̈́̔̈́͘s̸̳̦̺̏̄̈̍ ̶͈͓͖̠̃̅y̸̛̥̙̝̍̽̈́̊̋̾́͑̍ͅͅͅơ̶̢̞̙͓͎̣̳̙͉̊͌̄͐̇ư̷͎̲̼̮̪̝̪͛͐.̸̣̲̳̼͎̪̳̩̭͂̇̾̀̈́̿͜͝ ̷̣̥̜̥͎͍̞̼̻̗͂̃͆̆͘͠I̶̭̅̓̒͐̇̇̓̑́͝ ̷͈͇̫͂̓̇̿̍̅͛w̴̧̦͑̐̽i̴̧͔̘͔̠̠̍̀́͘l̶̢̹̙͔̰̳̘̫̻̱̏́͛̀͠l̵̢̠̤̤̄͌̾̔̕ ̴͉̝̈́̎k̴̲̮̙̻̭͉̲̗̣̬̇̎̑͘͘i̴̪͕̙̪̻͚͔̊l̶̠̟͕͉̪̓̉̾̽̂͝͠l̴̳̲͝ ̴̨͍̜̘̤̈́͊͌͛̉̈͒̓t̸̩̤͎̖̲̔̑̔̑̈́͆̕̚o̶͍̖̺̦͔̿ ̷̨̨̭̠͙̠̗̟͕̯̎͗͐̃͠͝k̴̘͛i̶͓͍̭̻͙̮͍̞͗͗̋̏ş̷͕̟̹̯̊͑́͊͑̐s̵͕̰̓̆̅̑͂̽̕ͅ ̵̫̝̫̜̦̹̼͚̱͗͊̎̎̎͌̒̓̎y̴̧̲̥̱̺̅̂́͋̂̇̉͠ō̶̱̼͍͓u̵̬̥̔.̶̙͈̍̂̕͝ ̸̥͉͕̍͜I̵̫͙͇̘̞͗͊͆̑̒̒́̅̀͠ͅ ̸̝͖̜͚̻̞̣̟̘̂̈́̊̂̍̎͊̄̾ͅw̷̡̘̠̙͕̪̗͈̣̟̌̒i̶͔̱͎̔̑͆̄̎l̷͚̖̰͇̜̯̩̃̎͐͗̓̄͊̽͘l̷̼̳̑̚͜ ̸̨̼̘̣̫̜̀̈́͂͆k̵͔̀̂̽̅̑̎̏̂̉ȋ̸̱̺̟͆̆̇̂l̷̡̛̛̗͖͔̗͇͕͋̿́͊̋͛͘̕ḷ̸̑̽̈́̾̀͊͊̍̓ ̵̲̩͚̝͎̣͕͖͉̓̿t̸̡̂̀̂̌͑͠͠ŏ̵̤̗̭̺̟̍̌̽͂̆͛̇̕͝ ̴̬̭̈̽̎̐̏̽͐̈́̚k̶̛̹̣̦̞̞͒̈͑̔͌̆̀͜͝ì̷̪̗͙̯͛̔̀̈́̅̍͜s̷̟͎͉̖̗̲̮̣̋̄̈́̽͑̀̎̅̀s̵̹͕͇͕̥̘̥̳̭̻̈́̑̈͐̀̐̈̕͝͠ ̴͕̖̱̣̀͒y̷̦̹͖͊̌̓͒̚o̸͚̤̦̺̲̦̅u̶̧̮̲̤̻͚̪̣̞̇̑.̶̣͇̂̔̓͑̃̂̈́͆ ̶̨̢̰̭̪͚̣͎̩͙̾͌̄̆̽͋̓Ī̶̢̛̝͍̭̜͇̜͚̊͑͊̇̒̐̄̚ ̴̡̘́w̷̝̩̋̑̈́͋̊̐͛͜ỉ̵̧̗̼̗̪̱͙̮̙͑̑l̵̘̦̈́̐̇ḷ̵̟̒͑̄͌̕ ̷̧̩̰̞̬̥̮͈͒̇̀k̶̢̢̟̩͋́̏̈́i̵̢̝͍̐̄́̓̈́͋̑̕͜ļ̴͚͍̟̮̟̀ͅl̷̩͙̔͗͌͑̐ ̸̺̊͜t̵͍̅̒o̵̢͍̘̤̩͉̫̩͊͑͒͑̌̀̀͋̃͠ ̶̢̥̰̒̽̀̉̈̀͛k̵̪̈́͆̍̊͘͝ì̶̪͑͗͠s̷͙͉͂̏̍͋̑̚͜͝s̴̗̖͉̋́̇̇̑̕̚̕͝͝ ̸̣͙͙̆͂̓̈́̆ỳ̶̭͝o̴̮̪͍̲̣̠͙̫̮̗͊͐͂͛͗͋̈́̐u̷̟͔͂̈́̌͊͒̄̔.̷̟̀̂͌̉̌̀̕͝ ̴̡̰͈͖̪͓̹̲̽̀̇͜Ĩ̸̱̜̠̑̃͒́̍̚͝ ̷̰͉̜͍̭̱̟̫̀͌̃̓̾͗̓͝w̸͖̭̺̓̋̐͑̓̈̄͠ỉ̶̢͔̫̠̘̟̻͕̑̍͠͠͠ͅl̸̤̓̽̾̔̓́̆l̸̹̪͙͇͔̘̈́̕ ̸̨̜̙̖̝͚̪̅̑ͅk̶̞̊́̒͒͋̿͝i̶̧̢͇̙̫͚̭̥̲̼̒̀͐̎́̑̔l̶̯͔͖̫͔͐l̶̯̭͉̭̝͖͈͈̃̐̔̉̀̀͐͝ ̴̣̉͝͠ț̸̺̝̫̜̣̠̯̀̃́͘͜o̴̡̫͔̺̣̼͖̤̿͆ ̶̢̡̡̘̣̖̲͉̓̅̆̕͠ͅk̵̟̞̇̅̔̌̊́̔̈́͠͠i̸̩͎̠͚̲̮̇͗̌̌̈͋̓͘͜͝s̶͕͓̱̩͈͒̆̃̑͐͘͘͠ṣ̸̠̅́͐̄̓̕͝ ̸̝̻̯̦̲̼̻̓̓̓͛͒͜͝ỳ̴͚̗̻̤̲͆̀̏̌̾̉̌ͅo̷̘̯͇͂̈́̏u̴̡̩͖͖͎̦̒̒̔̋́̐͐͂͆͜.̴̙̮̥̗͈̻͈̞̗̦̐ ̴̧̮̹͍̾͝I̵͖̊̑͋͂̍̄̒̂̍ ̸̨͕̲̳̱̙̼̓̊͒̑̕̚͠w̶̻̦̮͇̿̔͋̊̄͊͆͝î̵̛̗̜͇̈̈́̎̀͒͊̚͠l̵̻̭̿̓l̷̡͚̞̬̄̒͋́̽̕ͅ ̷̡̛͍̼̜̝̄̎͛̓k̸̨̪̗̺̼̳͍͔̈́̂́̈̎͑ị̴͔̱̲͓͇͎̮̫͓̓́͑͐l̴̛͕̗̫̰̗̙̆͛̿̽̕ͅl̸̢̞̳̱̿ ̵̮̮̼̗̰͕̺͚̃̈͘̚ͅt̴̬̞̠̣̣̹̩̲͙̞̅̽̀̑̈́̄͒̆̚ǒ̸̩̔̽̉̕̚ ̶̛͖̫̜̰̜̥̣͕̍̽̐̔͑̇̓͝ͅk̸̳̫̩̆́̍̃ḭ̷̼̩̊̾͒͝͝s̴̻̠̻̙̜͙̐͐̎ͅs̸̡̗̖̾̈́ ̸͉̼̌̀̐́͝ỹ̸̝͚̣̗͉̰̦̜̤͂o̴̧̹͉͋͝ū̸͍̤͍̀͗̀̈́.̴̨̠͚͕͚̮̦̝̻̃͑̕
Men who love how you look in glasses. They fit your round face so well, they made you look smart(er than you already are), they made you look sexy. All you had to do was look at him from behind your frames and his dick got hard.
He especially loved the times you’d find your head between his knees, his thick cock stuffing your mouth. You’d pull back kissing and sucking on his sensitive tip, your glasses a little crooked from your vigorous head movements.
“Fuck baby, you look so cute with my cock in your mouth.” He’d shakily breathe. If he was feeling nice he’d fix the placement of the spectacles, but on the occasions where he felt mean, he’d make it his goal to make them even more disheveled.
He’d make sure by the time he’s done, they’re fogged up, hanging hallway off your face, and speckled with his cum. He’d reach for them, feeling nice enough to clean them himself, but you stop him, taking them off scooping the liquid with your fingers and sucking it off. He’d feel himself get hard all over again once you place them back on your face with a little smile.
He’d groan, cupping your face in his hand and bringing you up for a nasty kiss.
Kakashi, Aizawa, Sasuke, Iwaizumi, Kuroo
pairing: shouta aizawa x f!reader summary: You’re not expecting your day to fall to pieces at 8:21 a.m., but life hasn’t really been going your way lately. A string of lackluster dates, followed by two dead vibrators (with missing cords!), and the only outlet left for your mounting sexual frustration—the smut blog you diligently update—has been discovered by the one person you never wanted to find it: fellow teacher Shouta Aizawa. Who might just be the inspiration behind most of the fantasies you post about. content warnings: coworkers-to-lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, forced proximity, there was only bed trope, explicit smut, phone sex, bondage, impact play, degradation, use of slut and whore, D/s, subspace, aftercare
chapters: one two three four five epilogue
chapter one: live 3/31 at 7 p.m. PST
pull our red string of fate harder i'm trying to jerk off
giving head to a guy you actually like is such a joy, seriously
it’s like “thank you for making me laugh, i hope you like your tip at the back of my throat”
hi hi !! :3 first off ur new theme is soo so cute!! n for your valentines event i wanted to send in one for satoru + an amusement park date as the gift !! you can make it sweet or spicy but i don’t have a specific kink in mind for it so that’s free range for ya ehehe
⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. swipe spicy: high on you.
about. boom, it’s a match! satoru gojo has always come up with creative ways to celebrate the most romantic day of the year. this time, he decides to make things a little naughtier atop a ferris wheel ride ( 1.4K ).
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, established relationships, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism, also ik ferris wheels don’t exist at amusement parks shuddap!! fem!reader.
・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !
every valentine’s day you’ve spent with satoru has been unique. different.
for your first, he’d filled every corner of your apartment with every type of flower he could possible find because he wasn’t sure what type was your favourite (he was too nervous to ask). for the second, he’d rented out an entire aquarium for you to walk through and dragging him through each exhibition with pure unfiltered joy. for the Valentine’s Day that he had proposed — your third or fourth, satoru had rented a plane that carried the message ‘will you marry me?’ to fly over your rooftop dinner date. you’d said yes, of course, and every day with satoru since had been a wild ride.
even now, years into your life together, he remained just as crafty and as adventurous as satoru’s gojo had always been.
“s-satoru!” you squeal needily, tucking your face into your lover’s shoulder in a weak attempt to muffle your weak cries and trembling voice. “‘toru please. n-not here. n-not now,” you add when his slender and inquisitive fingers dip past the waistband of your jeans and the scalloped edge of your cotton panties. he’s been like this all day, feeling you up in line for different rides, licking the sugar from your fingers outside overpriced concessions stands dotted across the amusement park he'd taken you to. and now, satoru’s ravenousness has come to a head — with him trying to finger fuck you at the top of the ferris wheel. “p-people are around!”
while typically a romantic spot to watch the world go by, the white haired man has his heart set on making you squirm and cry at the highest peak of the ride. “that’s what makes this all the more fun, right baby?” his digits flex under the rough denim of your jeans in an attempt to get a feel for your wetness all while gojo whispers sinful words against the shell of your ear — hot breath cascading down the back of your neck and sending shivers down your spine. “relax for me, we’re too high up for anyone to notice. let me make you feel good, yeah?”
your hips buck down against your lover’s hand for a taste of friction — chasing the blistering hot sensation that spreads through your lower tummy once his fingertips come into contact with your swelling, pulsating clit. the very notion of your body succumbing to a few of gojo’s simple touches has him chuckling breathily in your ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. you can’t help the instinctual response of your quivering, a stream of wetness gathering in the seat of your underwear too.
“do you think i can make you cum by the time we reach the top?” satoru mumbles huskily, lowering his head to your neck so that he can place hot, sloppy kisses to your exposed skin — contrasting with the night air. tufts of white hair tickle at your jaw, sending you into a fit of shakes and shivers that make your cart of the ferris wheel rock back and forth. “don’t answer that, i know i can.” he’s cocky when he teases you and has every right to be, your thighs twitch apart instinctively to make space for satoru’s hand between them.
he skilfully massages your pretty little pussy even from underneath tight denim jeans, circling in your entrance as it dribbles sweet salacious nectar for him. so much so, that you might soil the fabric of your clothes. if your arousal seeps through, would you drip and gush on all those people below? the thought crosses your might and only serves to turn you on even more — evident in the way you clench around nothing as gojo plays with your empty hole.
“m-mph, satoru,” you hiccup, only tilting your head to face his. your noses nudge slightly, lips ghosting over one another’s while your hot breath mingles. to anyone else — you appear a couple in love, innocently kissing, enjoying a date to the amusement park, and a ride to the top of the ferris wheel. but you’re far from that, and you know it, two delightfully sinful individuals who can’t keep their hands off of one another. “m-more!”
gojo obliges, and you thank whatever diety is up above for blessing him with such magical fingers. two of them slide past your entrance without resistance, stretching your gooey and sensitive walls around their length easily. “hm? what’s the matter, baby?” comes the silver haired man’s lazy response, a sleazy smirk spreading across his plush pink lips at the sound of you squelching around him already. you shake your head at his question, eyes screwed shut since you’re too far gone with the pleasure to answer coherently.
from your side, gojo uses his free hand to keep you nice and spread for him — sapphire eyes glowing in the dark night whilst remaining trained on the way your hips jut down to push back against his fingers inside of you. “god you’re so fuckin’ wet. you really like this, huh? all tbose unsuspecting people below…having no idea that i’m fucking your pussy open right above their heads,” he purrs hungrily and curls his fingers, instantly finding your g-spot because he’s mapped out every inch of your sopping walls and knows them off by heart. “taste yourself for me.”
your lips part on command and tongue rolls out of your mouth to make room for the fingers that have been inside you — sucking on them diligently when satoru presses down on the palette of your tongue. he gets off to the way you taste yourself, moaning around him nastily. you should feel shame and humiliation for acting like this in public, all desperate and needy, but you’re as ravenous and as depraved as satoru is. it’s what makes you a match made in heaven.
with his fingers now tainted with a crude mix of your saliva and arousal, satoru returns them to your temperate and sopping mound — stuffing you full of him once more. he’s knuckle deep in your cunt before you can even moan his name, stroking your insides into the shape of him while you drool syrupy evidence of your arousal into the seat of his palm.
“we’re almost to the top, brace yourself, pretty girl. i gotta see you cum. it’ll give me the prettiest view.” satoru coos to you patronisingly, making sure to grind his wrist against your puffy clit — refusing to let it go unattended. “can you do that for me?”
everything is so sticky and hot, especially with all of the layers of clothes in the way — shielding your dirty act from any onlookers on the ground or in the carts below you. strings of your slick tie satoru’s fingers to your honeyed sex and glue this thumb to your sensitive nub, tucked away between your puffy pussy lips. you claw at the silver haired man’s arm trapped in the middle of your quivering thighs band writhe around in the cart so much so that it creaks with the weight.
you whimper into the cool night air, but satoru lights your body on fire from the inside out — your gut lurching and twisting with an unbearable sense of yearning. “‘m close… think i’m gonna—“ you begin to stutter, bleating like a lamb being sent to the slaughter. you remain at the mercy of your boyfriend’s fast paced fingers, pumping in and out of you with no regard to the painful stack of ecstasy building up inside of you. “please, i can’t hold it, ‘toru,”
“you don’t have to,” your lover tsks in reply, never slowing the speed of his digits stroking at your ribbed walls, slipping and sliding against pleasure spots only he knows exist. “why don’t you let go for me, yeah? there you go. that’s it… just like that and all for me,” satoru’s mouth find yours in the final stretch, sloppy praises whispered against your kiss swollen lips while he rubs over your luscious and equally swollen folds like his life depends on it. “let the people down there know how fuckin’ good i finger fuck this sweet pussy. cum for me baby, i know you can do it.”
each syllable, each impassioned word that escapes him and that he pours into you drags you by the ankle towards your high — and you don’t even try to fight it. once you reach the very top of the ferris wheel, your peak reaches a crescendo. satoru flings himself over you, arm arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you in place in the cart as your orgasm crashes over you in drowning waves. you slip beneath the surface of pleasure, your cunt rushing like a river while you cum all over satoru’s masterful hand with a muffled cry of his name.
“satoru!”
“shh, quiet…that’s my girl, my sweet sweet girl.” he sighs dreamily, fucking you with your fingers throughout your high — only pulling out of your greedy cunt to slap down on it, dragging more spurts of arousal out of you. you squirt through your jeans, onto the metal seat in your ferris wheel cart and all over satoru. who happily praises you through it all. “i bet you’re just drippin’ on all those nasty strangers below. i’m sure they’d love it.”
catching your breath, you tuck your face into satoru’s neck while you come down from your high (and literally too — your cart begins to make its descent back town from the top of the ferris wheel). “y-you’re sick.”
satoru smiles, slow and sexy. “but you love me,”
“mhm, sure,” you quip, somehow finding the energy to pull away from your debauched lover to shift to your knees in front of him — the cool metal digging into your knees. “maybe i love you just a little.”
“only a little? then why are you on your knees for me?” he asks, spreading his legs to make room for you between them.
“it’s your turn, i want to see if i can make you come before we get to the bottom of the wheel.” you say breathlessly and with mirthy eyes, teeth descending on gojo’s zipper while you bat your eyelashes up at him.
celebrating valentine’s day with satoru was always…unique. different…but you’d be lying if you said you failed to enjoy his unconventional methods of gift giving with the person you loved most.
꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
21, minors DNI Thinking about all of my favorite people
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