Babe Wake Up, Pedro Literally Gifted Us Christmas Pics And We Should Be Thankful

OMGGGG finally being able to post now! So sorry everyone. REQUEST ARE BACK OPEN

So uhm… ive been absent for so long 🥹😀🙌

Not posting anything really… yk

Busy with life and reading and work

I miiiight post some short stories that ive got going on

oye please can u do one of miguel o'hara with an teen reader(15) thats a guarani/mexican girl?,ikno thats highly especific but please

pretty please <:3

Is this platonic or father and daughter 🤨🤨

Coming from my last post what size should my nails be?

Im thinking of making a tsukishima x reader series… a slow burn one!

Pick a trop!!! And whatever one wins ill do!

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDING MEEEEEE

Bruuuh

Ugh. Did this on my laptop. 💻 im kinda obsessed with him rnnnn

a small tsukishima x reader blurb

tsukishima x fem!reader – “annoyingly in love”

You’re convinced Kei Tsukishima is allergic to affection.

He says he’s “just not the type,” with that same bored expression he always wears—half-lidded eyes behind his glasses, lips drawn in a line that doesn’t quite hide the smirk trying to break through. You roll your eyes at him at least twice a day, and he rolls his right back, like it’s his full-time job.

Still, you catch him doing things. Annoying things. Like holding his umbrella slightly more your way when it’s raining. Like giving you the last bite of his strawberry shortcake, even though he always pretends not to like sweets. Like pulling you closer by the sleeve of your hoodie when you’re walking home and a car gets a little too close.

“You’re kind of sweet, y’know,” you say one day, poking his cheek.

He glares at you. “Take that back.”

“But it’s true.”

“I’m not sweet.”

“You’re literally blushing.”

“I’m literally cold. Shut up.”

You grin and loop your arm through his anyway, because he’ll complain, but he won’t let go. He never does.

_______

what'd yall think?!?! i might be obsessed with him rn... EXCPECT MOREEEE

bye my minionsssss

My writing game has been off- so i tried to write some aizawa x UA teacher! Reader smut, its smut but its cute at the same time? Im thinking of writing for

Present mic, edgeshot, fatgum, sir nighteye and maybe others

What we think?!

MINORS DNI

⸻

Title: “Empty Office Hours”

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x Teacher!Reader

Rating: NSFW (18+)

Tags: Fluff & Smut, Office Sex, Tension Release, Soft Dom!Aizawa, Praise, Light Hair Pulling, Creampie, Aftercare

⸻

You were just trying to grade papers. Really. That was your story and you were sticking to it.

But it was hard to focus with him in the room.

Aizawa Shouta leaned against the doorframe of the empty faculty office, arms crossed over his chest, tired eyes fixed on you like he’d already read your mind and wasn’t impressed with what he saw. He said nothing at first, only watching. Like always. That unreadable, simmering look of his that made your throat tighten.

“Need help?” he asked finally, his voice a gravel-soft whisper.

You looked up slowly from your papers, your pen frozen mid-word. “Only if you’re good at grading essays on hero ethics.”

“I’m better at watching people squirm when they’ve been pretending they don’t want something.”

Your breath hitched—barely—but he caught it. Of course he did.

“I don’t know what you mean, Aizawa,” you said, setting your pen down with a forced calm. “I’m just doing my job.”

“You’re also looking at me like you want to do something else.”

You tried to bite back the flush spreading across your cheeks, but it was too late. He was already moving—slow, deliberate steps as he closed the door behind him with a soft click. Your heart jumped. That little sound felt dangerous.

He crossed the room and leaned over your desk, bracing himself on either side of your chair. His scent—coffee and clean laundry and something just him—wrapped around you like a noose.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me in meetings?” he murmured. “How your eyes drop to my hands when I talk. How you shift in your seat like you can’t get comfortable. Like you’re trying to squeeze your thighs together without anyone noticing.”

Your breath left you in a shaky exhale. “Maybe I was hoping you’d notice.”

His eyes darkened. “Careful. I might just act on that.”

You smiled—nervous, but full of something more. “Is that a promise?”

He kissed you before you could finish that grin.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss—not at first. It was all teeth and tension, weeks of stolen glances and bitten tongues spilling out in the way his hands gripped your waist, pulling you up from your chair and into his arms like he’d been holding back for way too long. You gasped against his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck as he guided you back until your hips hit the edge of the desk.

“Up,” he said, breath hot against your ear. “Desk. Now.”

You obeyed, gasping again as the cold surface met the back of your thighs. He stepped between your legs, lips trailing down your throat, hands pushing under your shirt with practiced hunger but surprising tenderness.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he muttered into your skin. “Every damn day.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair. “Then do something about it, Shouta.”

That name on your tongue made him groan, deep in his chest. One hand fumbled with your pants while the other cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head to kiss you again—softer this time. Sweeter. Like even in his hunger, he wanted you to know you were wanted. Needed.

The stretch of him inside you pulled a gasp from your lips. Your hands gripped his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he began to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that made your toes curl. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, whispered your name like a prayer.

“Feel that?” he breathed. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you smile at someone else. Every time you act like this isn’t what we both want.”

Your moan answered him.

He rocked into you, pace building, one hand fisting in your hair to pull your mouth back to his. Your kiss was messy now—needy, desperate. You broke apart only to gasp his name as your legs shook around his hips.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

And you did—shuddering in his arms as he held you through it, still moving, chasing his own release until he came with a low groan into your neck, arms wrapped tight around you like he never wanted to let go.

The office was quiet afterward—just the sound of both your breathing and the rustle of clothes as he pulled your shirt down and brushed your hair out of your face. Then, gently, he kissed your forehead.

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

You smiled, dreamy and dazed. “More than okay.”

He smirked, finally—just a hint. “Good. I don’t think we’ll get any work done the rest of the day.”

“Guess we’ll have to schedule another… staff meeting.”

His chuckle was low and warm against your skin.

⸻

Idek if this is any good

I’m sorry what😭

Why is he so zesty