amgirl

errands for mom

satoru gojo x reader. they have kids. nsfw.

"Come on. Just touch it a little bit?"

"Fuck off," you laugh, turning your face away from his. He licks your cheek in retaliation, then nips at your earlobe.

"But they're outside," he whines.

You roll your eyes. He pushes himself further into your space, rutting against your thigh. "Please? It's been, like, 3 weeks."

"It's been three days," you hiss, lifting your chin to get away from him. He seizes the opportunity to mouth at your neck, and you feel your resolve start to crumble.

"Come on. Just for a second." He's playful, bordering on desperate. He's no better than a dog in these moments. Then again, you indulge him sometimes, so he knows he can get to you.

You frown at him when he lifts the elastic waist of his sweats away from his body to reveal himself. He's flushed and leaking, and his abdomen caves with every breath he takes.

"Please?" he says again. When you dare to look in his eyes, they're brilliant; pupils blown around a blue ring of a fire that burns too hot.

When you curl your hand around him and give a little squeeze, he groans. Too loud. You slap your other hand over his mouth. "Quiet," you warn. He nods. You can see the way his eyes smile and feel the curve of his lips against your palm. You stroke him a few times and indulge him in another sloppy, wanton kiss, then pull away.

He looks at you, incredulous. "Why'd you stop?"

"Are you kidding? We can't finish this here."

"So you're saying....we can finish elsewhere?"

"Later," you tell him. "After they go to bed."

"But I need you now." Oh, how he whines when he's horny.

You almost give in to him. Almost. But the back door swings open, and you hear the telltale signs of a sibling squabble filling the hall. You glare at Satoru, who slinks away like a pup with his tail between his legs. and you go to quell the storm of your children's argument.

— Ran eyes the stairs that lead to his childhood home with hesitation. He glances at the rusted metal on the railing in remembrance — staring at the chipped paint on the walls next door. His initials are still carved into the wood below — his brother’s mirroring his own underneath. 

Ran hasn’t seen his mother in a long time. He hasn’t been back home for even longer. 

He's not sure he would even call this place home. 

He'd messed up terribly at the age of thirteen, and had spent a good amount of time in a correctional facility to make up for it. By the time he was out, he'd decided to leave the apartment he’d grown up in behind. He didn't give his mother much room to object — she didn’t have it in her to do so either. She'd grown weary of her words falling on deaf ears. She loved her boys, she really did. But there was only so much her heart could take — there was only so much destruction she'd allow them to partake in under her roof. She’d simply nodded when he told her he was leaving, not bothering to meet his gaze. But he remembers the fight she’d put up when Rindou had said he was coming too. He remembers the ache in his heart at being cast to the side. And he wonders if he would’ve stayed if she had begged him to. He wonders what it would be like for her to fight for him too. 

You hate not bringing your phone to the bathroom.

But in your defense, it was an emergency! Katsuki was so caught off guard as you push off of him and all but dash away, just so you can use the pisser before you pee yourself. You didn’t even think about grabbing it; it wasn’t like you needed it anyways. You’re sure it’s fine on the couch.

But your breath hitches in your throat when you come back, and Katsuki’s thick thumb is scrolling casually through your phone.

“What are you doing!” You gasp, eyes darting around the scene.

He gives you an indifferent shrug, “lookin’ through your phone.”

“How did you get into it!”

“You left it unlocked, dumbass,” he scoffs, thumb scrolling through your phone. “When you sprinted to the can.” Your heart rate speeds up and you quickly shout “no, no, no!”’s as you reach for the device in his hand.

Offended, he holds the phone away from you, brows furrowed in anger, “the fuck you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t look at it!” You whine, stretching as far as you can. Instantly, you see the hurt splay over his face, but he’s quick to cover it with fury.

“What,” he snarls. “You scared I’m gonna find your other fucking boyfriend or something?” Despite him not wanting you to see it, the idea that that’s why you’re so worried about him seeing your phone fills him with rage and hurt and-

“No!” You assure, making one final grabby hand. “I just talk a lot of shit about you and I don’t want you to know what I say!”

“…what.”

He tries more than he ever has to fight the smirk that wants to spread on his face, desperate to keep the facade that he’s beyond furious to your secrecy.

But that little pout on your lips his making him crumble, and you huff before petulantly crossing your arms, “I constantly tell our friends how much of an idiot you are, and you don’t need to know what exactly I’m saying.”

“So you’re going to look me dead in my fucking eyes and tell me there’s no other man on this phone?”

“I barely deal with your stubborn ass, dickhead.”

“And you expect me to actually believe it?”

At this challenge, you narrow your eyes, “I told the group chat about how you made fun of one of my teddy bears, and Eijiro kindly told me that you keep the stuffed pig I bought you in your desk drawer.”

His face loses all color, and you proudly smirk as you hold your palm out for your phone. “I tell Midoriya about the countless times you blow me off for date night, and he so generously told me that you keep cute polaroids of us on your desk. Sometimes you cry-“

“I’m gonna fucking destroy them,” he snarls, throwing your phone at you and crossing his arms petulantly. “Next time, just cheat on me, will ya?”

You snort and lean over to plant a kiss to his cheek, “sure. I’ll get right on that the second Shoto tells me where you keep my engagement ring-“

Immediately, Katsuki pops up on his feet, his brows buried deep into his face as he stomps off towards the bedroom. “I’ll fucking kill that IcyHot bastard!” He roared, but all you could do was smirk on the couch happily.

Because you didn’t know there was a ring. Until now, of course.

Surely Shouto will forgive you when he hears the news.

LOST IN THE FIRE FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI

synopsis: katsuki has never thought about children, but today the thought consumes him from the inside out, and so do you.

contains: female reader. adult pro hero bakugou. established relationship. unprotected sex. a creampie. parental themes ie; mentions of pregnancy and children + reader being a mother. kats has a raging breeding kink and is so super in love! 3.1k wc.

you drive katsuki insane.

sure, you have your moments—times when you’re unimaginably annoying and butt heads with him over every possible thing, but that’s not what drives him up the wall—it’s the thoughts.

the pesky, never ending thought of you. you’re always there—day or night, rain or shine, like a pretty little parasite living between his ears.

he almost mistook it for a quirk, the way you spread like wildfire through his brain, scorching every inch in the process—but he’s since learned that that was just his way of experiencing love, which, at the time seemed a lot worse.

to this day, you burn hot in his mind—an eternal flame that has no sign of dying out anytime soon.

some days you’re dull, a soft yellow hue flickering in the background as he’s on patrol—too focused on whatever bastard he’s pursuing to ignite the thought of you. some days you’re bright, a fiery orange blaze glowing behind his eyes as you kiss down his torso—intensifying the lower you go.

and every so often, you’ll do or say something that threatens an all out explosion inside his head.

cw: no smut but it’s all pre smut so minors dni. fondling and bkg praise kink lol

okay so quickly bkg laying on the sofa and you laying back to his chest in his arms. it’s comfy and it’s warm. it’s netflix without the chill. bakugou’s hand goes to the remote, turning the volume up, then down flicking between what he wants to watch and mumbling in your ear, “how about this?” you, easy to please on this evening after a long day, just nods along, wanting to just lay on your lovers chest and close your eyes.

it’s only about ten minutes in, the sleepiness about to settle into your limbs when you feel a hand with on your stomach. the span of his hand covers so much of your skin, his hot palm warming you up and his breath on your neck tickling you. you both are quite touchy alone so you don’t flinch or say anything. it’s only until the hand inches up to your breast and he lightly pinches your nipple. then again. then your boyfriend rubs his thumb against the perked nub and one eye peeks open.

it feels good, of course it feels good. bakugou’s fingers are skilled, knows how to make you feel whatever he wants you to and you even hear a snigger behind you when one of your hands sneak up to his bicep to encourage him.

you bite your lip when he pinches your nipple again, adding a light kiss to your neck. you’re throbbing between your legs, going from zero to hundred quicker than you thought was possible with some fondling.

Bakugo changes his voice when he's around kids. He doesn't do that silly, gurgling voice like the rest of you extras. It's something more subtle, but still insanely him.

The first time you hear it, he's helping two dads get a balloon down from a tree for their baby in a stroller. Sure, he still grumbles and drags his feet when he realizes it's not someone recognizing him for his awesome strength, but he's willing to help all the same. A single tug dislodged the pink balloon, thankfully without popping it, and he hands it back directly to the tiny tot with a pat on the head that's only slightly too heavy. Before he walks away, Bakugo gives a warning the young one definitely won't understand.

"There ya go, brat. Don't lemme catch you cryin' over something small like this again, got it?"

His voice is still husky, but it's soft this time, so soft you're almost tempted to say it's deeper than usual. All of his syllables are rounded and the lightly accented words tumble out of his pink lips so gently that you think you'd be lulled to sleep by it if the time were right. His words are still pillowed by a layer of smoke but it takes on an earthy quality rather than a fiery one this time.

When he finally meets your wonder-filled gaze, you realize it's not only his voice, but his eyes have gone soft as well.

"Oi. What're ya starin' at me like that for? S'not like you've never seen that side of me."

And it's true. It seems impossible, but the way he speaks to you now is even kinder, even sweeter than it was thirty seconds ago, because now, he's talking to his baby.

they called me…a white man’s whore. *sniffles*

i know it slaps against his leg when he walks

touya sometimes wheezes in his sleep.

not enough to cause concern, but if he's overtired and lying on his back, he'll choke a little bit, cough a time or two before shuffling until a cheek is pressed down into the plush of your pillows. doesn't even interrupt his dreams, just stirs him enough to blindly turn into whatever comfort he can find.

it's hard to know when it started waking you up; it just did, and now it's something you're too used to. even before he completely knocks out, you find yourself reaching for him — hardly conscious yourself — until your hand meets the rough edge of his jaw, and then you're pushing his head until it's flopping over with a low, grating sound of annoyance.

and then there are times when you're nestled deep into his warmth, listening to every strained breath that leaves his lungs, counting the rise and fall of your own hand on his chest. waiting, maybe, just in case.

of course he thinks you're baby-ing him, when you tell him over breakfast, but you can't help but to watch him struggle in his contentment, to wonder who checked over him when he was alone out there in the world. if he'd stopped breathing or started choking — who would have been there to know? to turn his head for him, to listen for the slow beat of his mottled heart? would anyone have even known that he'd died again?

touya grunts when you lean away to wipe your hands across your face, embarrassed at the wet sniffle that sounds too loud in the tender space of your bedroom.

he rasps, "'s'wrong?" and for just a moment, his face scrunches up as he clears his throat, swallows until the dryness has left his tongue, and then he's lifting his head the tiniest bit to look over at you.

"nothing," you have enough awareness to laugh at yourself for being so soft and touya takes the dismissal, dropping his head back to the pillow he's hogged from you. when you rest your cheek back on the scars of his shoulder, he hums lightly, tired enough to be so affectionate. "i love you, you know?"

and his breathing does still, then, and you can see the flutter of his lashes in the moonlight from the window. how slowly he blinks at your wall, and the heavy bob of his adam's apple.

"yeah," he croaks once, dried out yet again, and turns his face back to you and tightens his fingers in your shirt, already asleep. already content. "i know."

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐆𝐎

↳ a foul-mouthed, aggressive, pro-soccer player on the verge of being disqualified from the biggest game of his life, is tossed into a fake relationship with a spoiled heiress to salvage their bad public reputation. what exactly could go wrong?

𖨆♡𖨆 itoshi rin x fem!reader

cw. mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, sexual tension, mean!rin, fake dating, language

masterlist | playlist

#1: BLACK OUT DAYS

The silence in the room fell prey to the steely glint in Rin Itoshi’s eye. 

Mugs of coffee started to run cold from the increasingly stretched out minutes; nails scraped the lacquered wooden table in short intermittents, and the nervous PR manager before him started to stutter. “I-It will only be for a few months—”

“Why?” 

Rin noticed a brown stain on his collar. It reminded him of tonkatsu sauce, and he inwardly sneered at how little this man cared for his personal hygiene.

The younger Itoshi brother wasn’t exactly the neatest person in his whole team if they were to compare him with Barou, but at least his outward appearance didn’t have such a damning dot. He sat back in the leather chair, a migraine beginning to fester in his right temple.

“L/N Y/N is a philanthropist and well-loved on social media. She’ll help boost your popularity vote before the big playoff season and get you a bigger cut—”

“She was seen puking on the street after a night of clubbing.” He recalled the glossy pages filled with an over-the-top glittery dress, heels delicately hooked in a lax grasp and one intoxicated woman slumped against the wall. Rin was hard-pressed to understand how a person like that could be one of Japan’s most popular influencers.

A wild child.

A socialite.

Some immature woman partying around on daddy’s money. 

Definitely not a woman he would think of dating without a metaphorical gun to his head.

─ Rin doesn't mind you too much; in retrospect you weren't that bad at all. But he hates that you take away from the time he could be playing football with Sae. He hates that he has to sit idly in his room, huffing to himself as he watches you color. He should be outside. He should be with his brother.

It's not your fault, it really isn't. Your mothers were close friends and thus by association, he'd been asked to keep an eye on you on the days that the two of you came over. You're little, a few years younger than him, but you looked at him with stars in your eyes. You just wanted to play. You'd only wanted to play.

He's eight and you're five when he leaves you alone in his room to go meet up with his older brother. You're five and he's eight when he ruins any chance of friendship between the two of you ─ when he destroys the awe you held for him.

He comes back to find you on the verge of tears. Your lip wobbles as you stumble over to him, tiny fists trembling as you wipe at your face. You'd accidentally broken something in his room while you were alone. You're not even sure what you broke, though you'd desperately tried to put it back together. You didn't mean it, you tell him. You're really, really sorry.

Dabi sneaks into your room while you shower, makes himself entirely too comfortable when he sprawls out on your bed. You’re in the conjoined bathroom showering, completely oblivious to his presence until you step out. You gasp at the sight of him, hands instantly clenching onto your towel before you relax, rolling your eyes with a huff as you go about gathering your lotion.

“Who the hell invited you in my bed?” You ask him, voice holding much less malice than he had expected. Dabi only chuckles under his breath, stretches like some stray cat getting entirely too comfortable in their found owners home. You cut your eyes at him, watching his Cheshire smile as he rests his hand on his folded arms behind him.

“Didn’t know I needed an invitation, sweetheart.” He tells you, pouts a little when you throw an empty water bottle at him. “Last time I was here, you were begging me to stay—“

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just announce yourself next time, I damn near had a heart attack.” You snip at him, turning your back as you drop your towel. It doesn’t do much to hide you though, as you stand in front of your floor length mirror, cutting your eyes at the man who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you entered the room.

“Can I do it?” Dabi asks quietly, finally sits up when he sees you picking up your lotion, hands splayed and ready. You eye him warily, trying to figure out what he’s up to you, but the sincerity and wonder that gathers in his eyes is enough to sway you. Your answer to him is a hum as you hand over the lotion bottle, turning on your heel so you can face him head on.

Dabi stands quickly, stares you down as he makes his way to you, his form lanky and tall, heavy boots loud in the quietness of the room. When he grabs the bottle, his fingers glide against yours, and he makes quick work of lathering it into your arms. He rubs cheekily at your chest, grinning up at you when he flicks your nipples just to watch your nose scrunch as you mutter about him being a little creep.

He kneels in front of you, rubs the lotion between his hands, warms it just so with his quirk, works it into your legs and calves. You rest against the mirror placed on the wall behind you, head thrown back as you hum under your breath, moaning slightly when he lifts your foot and rests it on his knee to slather your toes down in the lotion, cracks the knuckles there to feel you jump before relaxing.

He guides you to turn around, works on the backs of your thighs, kisses the cellulite and dimples there as you reach a hand back to stroke his hair. When he stands, he crowds you, hands squished between your bodies to massage your back gently.

“I’m hard as a rock right now,” Dabi admits under his breath, eyes glancing up at your own in the mirror reflection. You tut at him, smiling softly, as his evidence is pressed into the small of your naked back, and you welcome him with a little wiggle of your hips.

“You’re obsessed with me.” Is all you give him, biting your bottom lip when Dabi nips at your neck, when he grinds against you, fits the shape of his cock between your cheeks.

“Yeah.” He agrees, breathily, easily, as if the sentiment is as simple as breaking into your house and admiring you like some lazy, domesticated stray that you always seem to welcome with open arms.