Riding Gojo So Good That He Starts Yelling Out His Card Info When He Nuts

i just thought of social media outlets just over analyzing every celebrity interaction (as they always do) but they were speculating for a while about your relationship with number two pro-hero dynamight. the two of you sat at a table together at a gala a while back and the live broadcast happen to capture you leaning in close towards dynamight for him to whisper in your ear for only just a quick second.

naturally they start asking a million prodding questions over one seemingly innocuous interaction between the two of you.

you and dynamight were spotted together at most three times since that captured moment on television but once again, there was nothing particularly romantic or intimate captured by the cameras. dynamight hardly makes any personal posts on his socials and you’ve switched up to becoming a little more private with your social media this year as a resolution for yourself. so there’s radio silence on both ends about the romantic speculation between the two of you and it dies out as quickly as it had risen up. the media moves on to the next thing.

then a few months later, paparazzi capture you on a outing to get some pastries and people are quick to see that you have your hand on a small baby bump. it’s a decent photo captured and the one posted online is of you actually seeing the paparazzi and giving them a smile and wave. of course they analyze how far along you look like you are and the discrepancy of your last social media post where you definitely didn’t have a little pregnancy bump on you and compare it to the recent sighting. outlets have sources that confirm that you haven’t had any public romantic involvement with anyone throughout the year and everyone starts weighing in on who the father is.

it’s a bare string for the celebrity news outlets to hold onto but they vaguely recall when everyone wondered if you and dynamight were an item. one celebrity news Twitter posts the photo of you with the caption ‘could bakugou katsuki, #2 hero in japan, be the father??’

bakugou retweets the post from his account with only two words: ‘i am.’

oh. oh my. I am thinking about fuck buddy sukuna.

baki baki ni ore‼💃🏽 nani wo🤔❓kokoro wo dayoooo😁🤍‼konagona ni kudake🕺 nani wo❓❓🎤🎤

inspired by the gq heatstroke shoot. it's a hot gojo summer, 18+ mdni.

contrary to popular belief, gojo satoru is still prone to nasty sunburns. his infinity can only go so far, unfortunately.

as his assistant and very reluctant friend, you've chided him many times over about the importance of sunscreen but he simply tunes you out while he sprawls across your lap so you can lather aloe vera over his toned and inflamed back after his mid-afternoon runs. you think it might be an ego thing—running through the streets of tokyo in the tiniest little shorts and a cropped tank that flatters years of hard work cultivating the strongest sorcerer in the world.

"keep it comin' sweetheart, that's it," satoru sighs as your fingers work diligently over hard muscle, sweat slicked skin, and tan lines while satoru innocently sucks on a watermelon popsickle. you hear the wet smack of his lips and you don't even have to look to know he's smiling wickedly, like a petulant little child.

when he turns over in your lap prematurely, you shriek, the cold fluids smearing against your brand new pencil skirt. instead of acknowledging your annoyance, he merely pouts, taking one of your hands to lead them to his collarbone, cherubic and aching. "you have to get my whole body with this stuff, ya know. 'm not just hurting back there."

you narrow your eyes. spoiled rotten, audacious, and fluttering his white lashes at you, wondering whatever you will do next.

there's a couple of options available, you muse. you could formally file for your resignation and promptly push him over so that he can land on the unforgiving wooden floors, or⸻

satoru's making the most delicious, little sounds on your lap, his whines falling deaf over your ears as you pump his cock with the aloe vera that's cool to the touch, his eyebrows furrowing as he gets lost in the sensation, rutting his hips up to meet your thrusts. "oh fuck, oh god, doin' so good, sweetheart, don't stop!"

he drools, he whines, and he cums so prettily, white streaks staining your pencil skirt further. you're going to bill it to him, he already knows, but he can't really find it in him to give a shit as your hands soothingly run over his pink, overheated skin.

oh, how he loves summer.

playstation controller - matsuhana x fem!reader

an | based on this image, for my dearest @rrazor <3 happy birthday cw | anal, fingering, oral, mdni 18+, 700+ wc

there’s something incredibly erotic about watching matsukawa fuck hanamaki.

you sit with hanamaki’s head in your lap, letting him hold onto your soft thighs as matsukawa wrecks him from behind. 

“does that feel good, ‘hiro?” your thumb strokes his cheekbone. 

hanamaki thinks you look like an angel. he cranes his neck up to stare at you, pretty and illuminated by the bedroom light, replying with a slight nod. 

“y-yeah, fuck. feels so good, issei,” he groans when matsukawa’s cock grazes a particularly delicious spot. 

matsukawa’s tan skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, his fluffy eyebrows drawn together. no matter how many times the three of you have sex, it feels so mind-meltingly good that he might as well be a born again virgin. his hands dig into hanamaki’s hips as he fucks him at a steady pace. the room is filled with the sounds of skin on skin, and stuttered groans from both males. 

hanamaki nuzzles into the flesh of your lower belly. he likes it, calls it your cute lil’ pooch, despite your protests.

“baby.” he presses a kiss to your hip. “wanna eat you out. please?”

you hum. matsukawa moans at the thought. 

“someone’s greedy today,” you muse, but open your legs anyways, letting hanamaki eagerly dive into your warm pussy. 

he’s gentle. he’s always been that way, always been that kinda guy, to hug you from behind and lend you his cardigan when you’re cold. conversely, matsukawa’s charismatic. he walks on the side of the pathway that faces the road, and tilts the umbrella towards you when it’s raining, even if he gets soaked. 

hanamaki swirls his tongue around your clit and you whimper. your legs part even wider, fingers threading through his short hair. matsukawa picks up speed and his hands explore the expanse of hanamaki’s naked skin, making the male beneath him tense. matsukawa’s thumbs fit perfectly into the divot of the dimples by his lower back. almost like a playstation controller, he thinks. 

hanamaki’s saliva mixes with your slick and he’s so hard, the head of his cock is redder than his flushed cheeks. he eats you out like a man starved, anyways. you gasp when his fingers push into your swollen pussy.

"'h-hiro!”

you tug on his hair and hanamaki nearly cums there and then. he’s so easy when it comes to you. matsukawa thrusts into hanamaki hard and he makes a surprised noise, head bumping between your legs. 

“fuck, sorry,” matsukawa pants. 

hanamaki’s nose and mouth are drenched with your juices, his pupils so blown out you swear he’s pussy-drunk. matsukawa’s so close. his cock throbs with the need to cum inside, but he wants to see the both of you finish, too. he slips a hand over hanamaki’s hard-on and tugs, his other hand holding his hips up. 

hanamaki keens. his mouth returns to sucking on your clit, flicking at it with his tongue as his fingers thrust into you. the vibrations of his moans around you make your legs tremble. 

“s-so close, 'hiro. fuck, feels so good,” you cry. 

one more thrust against your g-spot and you’re cumming, humping into hanamaki’s face as he moans and shudders. he cums all over matsukawa’s fist and the brunet follows soon after, gasping and bucking his hips as he paints hanamaki white from the inside. 

the room stills, all three of you riding out your highs and catching your breath. the smell of sex fills the air. 

“shit.” matsukawa’s chest heaves. 

hanamaki lies where he is, unwilling to move from his slumped position. his cheek is pressed against your inner thigh. you move his bangs out of his eyes and he hums, leaning into your touch. 

matsukawa pulls out and leans down to kiss hanamaki’s lower back. his thumbs ghost his back dimples again. 

“‘hiro, you’re like a playstation controller, you know?” he grins.

hanamaki looks at him over his shoulder. “what the fuck, dude.”

you stifle a giggle. 

matsukawa moves his thumbs this way and that, the rest of his fingers digging into the flesh around hanamaki’s hips as he pretends to be playing forza on his ass. you laugh even louder when hanamaki kicks at matsukawa’s knee and the both of them collapse over one another, effectively suffocating you beneath their bodies. 

“can’t believe i got my pussy eaten out before gta six,” you say.

hanamaki gives you an annoyed look. matsukawa snorts. 

ugh i need to drink with post-graduate suga i just know it would fix me >_>

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

deaf!Bakugou teaching you sign, his rough hands over yours as he shows your fingers what to do, his red eyes intense as he watches you practice, the soft huffs of laughter when you mess up. deaf!Bakugou patting your head as he leaves, the only sign that he's pleased with your progress. you'd never guess his heart was pounding in his chest as he taught you the sign for "together."

taste test- poly vampire!matsuhana/f!reader (lil follow up to 'cutting teeth')

“Okay, try this.”

Hiro’s knees knock against yours, overeager and a little clumsy as he presses a glass into your waiting palms. He keeps his hands cupped around yours, lifting them in time with your own as you bring the drink up to your lips, his eyes watching you intently over the brim all the while.

“What is it?” you ask before you risk taking a sip, the cool edge of the cup resting against your bottom lip.

“It’s nothing bad,” he promises you.

“Takahiro, you’ve said that about everything else, too,” you complain, your eyes sweeping across the various items that litter the floor around you both—a selection of food items in bright plastic packaging and neon-coloured beverages discarded haplessly after you’d tasted them and voiced your dislike.

“Well, they weren’t bad either,” he says with a laugh, “you just didn’t like them.”

“They tasted awful,” you sniff, and the scent wafting up from whatever is in the cup Hiro’s waiting for you to sip from makes your stomach turn. You pull your face away from it and press the cup back into his hands. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Hiro whines. He takes a big sip from the cup. “It’s strawberry flavoured!” 

You wrinkle your nose. 

“Why would I want to drink that?” you pout a little as you say it. “None of this stuff tastes nice to me anymore.”

“Hiro—“ 

Your head snaps towards the doorway where you see Issei standing, quietly watching you both. You’re not sure when he arrived, but you suspect that was his intention. He approaches, crouching down behind you where you’re sitting on the floor in front of your pink-haired snack pusher.

“—If she doesn’t like it, don’t force her.”

“I know,” Hiro sing-songs in a disappointed key, pouting. “I was just trying to see if she got any of her taste back.”

You blink a little, peeking again at the treats that surround you. They’re all things that you had once enjoyed, things that you distantly remember craving and enjoying. Now a single taste or the mere smell is enough to make you feel nauseated. 

There’s only one thing you like the taste of now.

“Will that happen?” you ask quietly, and Hiro’s red eyes flicker from Issei’s face to yours. He nods enthusiastically.

“Not like it was,” Issei is quick to temper Hiro’s enthusiasm. His large hands slip up your arms gently, squeezing when he reaches your shoulders. “But over time, food will become a little less unpalatable than it seems to you now.”

You tip your head back until it rests against his chest, peering up at him.

“Does any of this taste good to you?” you ask him.

Between the two, Hiro has a much greater fondness for food. It’s not unusual at all to see him snacking on or slurping some processed, deeply unhealthy bit of junk food. The kind that people are supposed to eat in moderation—if at all. Issei rarely consumes anything as far as you can tell, maybe a glass of wine here and there. A whiskey every so often. A bite of something Hiro offers him, if only just to please him because it always earns him a kiss.

Issei laughs a little at your question, brushing a piece of your hair back from your face. “Not particularly. My sense of taste is still muted, so I tend to prefer the things that humans find bitter since the flavour is sharp enough to come through. Coffee. Dark chocolate. Aged liquor. Cigarettes.”

You frown. “But you’re old.”

Hiro laughs gleefully. “If he’s old what does that make me?”

You tip your chin down again to look at Takahiro, who’s watching you warmly. He grins lopsidedly, propping his chin up in his hand with his elbow resting on his knee. His mouth is stained pink from the drink in his hand.

“Ancient,” you supply wryly, smiling a little yourself. 

It’s easy for you to say, not least of all because it’s true. The entirety of your existence in comparison to Takahiro’s is a mere blip on the timeline. A drop of water in the ocean’s depths. Even Issei has been around long enough that your short life would seem, well, inconsequential by comparison. But if in the hundred years since Takahiro had turned him Issei had still only developed a taste for the few foods that he had, your own newly-immortal lifespan in comparison would surely prevent you from deriving any pleasure from the things Hiro is trying to feed you at present.

“If you knew I wasn’t going to like any of this, why did you make me eat it,” you complain, batting at a bright red candy-bar wrapper resentfully.

“I’m trying to get you started early,” Hiro counters, like a parent might justify their decision to feed their child vegetables. He shakes his head ruefully. “The sooner we start the quicker you’ll get used to it. I spoiled Issei and look how he turned out.”

You tilt your head back again, slumping into Issei’s broad chest. 

“I think he turned out just fine,” you say softly, and a small smile pulls at the corner’s of Issei’s mouth. He runs his fingers over your cheek, dipping down and kissing you softly with a hum.

By the time his lips part from yours, Hiro is right in front of you. He’s on his hands and knees, with his palms pressed to Issei’s thighs behind you, so close his nose brushes yours when you tilt your head back down. The speed that Hiro moves used to startle you sometimes, but you can follow it with your senses now. You laugh breathily at his proximity.

“That’s not fair,” Hiro says, but he’s not genuinely upset by the show of affection. He knows you care for him as much as you care for Issei. He cares for Issei as much as he cares for you, too.

You kiss him next to placate him, his mouth soft and warm and eager as it always is as he parts his lips against your own. He crowds closer until you’re properly pressed to Issei’s chest, and you feel Issei’s hands begin to wander as Hiro takes more and more of the ground you freely give him—sucking noisily against your tongue when your lips part in a quiet gasp at the feeling of Issei’s fingers creeping up under the hem of your dress and pressing against the front of your panties.

Hiro's kisses always make your head spin, always make you feel warm and flustered and inundated with a want so sticky-sweet you can almost taste him on your tongue. It's always been like this, ever since the beginning.

And as Issei's fingers loop under the waistband of your underwear, and Hiro helps to lift your hips so he can pull them down, you realize that you were wrong when you said there's only one thing you like the taste of now, because there are three—and two of them are crowding you in their embrace from either side.

thinking about the groan that comes out of mattsun’s mouth when you climb into his lap, bury your fingers in the soft strands of hair at the back of his head and pull until his lips part and his eyes go dark.