Me When I Download A Text App So I Can Make Smau Where Jjk Men Have To Grovel 🤭🤭🤭🤭

Real

satoru wants you to ask him to be his egg this easter so he can inseminate you 🥀

So instead of bird that got zapped, I’m like a hairless chicken who was wrapped in live wire and then thrown at the president.

I fucking love this holy balls my face hurts from smiling and giggling so much y

welcome back to frat boy, bf! katsuki, but you're taking a nap and you miss his calls for the first time...

k<3 :

u home yet??

2 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

yo. you said you were leavin class 20 mins ago.

stopped somewhere?

4 missed calls – the loml <333

k<3 :

sweet girl. answer me

not fuckin playin

7 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

i swear to fuck if ur phone died again im gonna duct tape a charger to ur bag

10 missed calls – the loml<333

k<3 :

come on

please

just text me

by the time the clock ticks past 10 minutes, katsuki’s spiraling.

he’s already speed-walked home from campus—snarled at kirishima when he offered to tag along, ignored denki yelling something about pizza—and practically slammed the front door open.

he checks every room with increasing panic.

kitchen? empty. bathroom? lights off. your shoes? by the door. your bag? slung carelessly on the couch.

his heart’s in his throat now. he storms to the bedroom and—there you are.

sprawled out across the bed in your favorite hoodie (his, of course), wrapped in a nest of blankets like some cozy little shit, hair a mess, cheek smushed into the pillow. dead to the world.

katsuki just stops in the doorway. halfway between furious and relieved. he exhales so hard it sounds like a curse, raking a hand through his hair. “fuckin’ hell, woman.”

he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, the tiny puff of breath from your lips, the faint twitch of your fingers as you shift slightly, still completely out of it.

he pads over slowly and crouches beside the bed, bracing himself on the edge of the mattress. just watching you sleep like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen and the most infuriating thing he’s ever dealt with.

you don’t even stir.

“called you ten fuckin’ times,” he whispers, brushing your hair away from your face gently, thumb lingering at your temple. “had my heart about to claw outta my chest.”

he glares down at your peaceful expression. “you couldn’t send one goddamn text?”

you snore a little.

he huffs out a soft, involuntary laugh and leans forward to kiss your forehead, lingering there for a moment.

“stupid girl,” he murmurs, voice rough now—not angry, just overflowing with that messy blend of worry and love and the kind of fear he doesn’t even want to name.

“you scared the shit outta me,” he says, voice barely audible now.

he kicks off his shoes, strips down to his hoodie, and climbs into bed beside you, dragging you into his chest like he needs to feel your heartbeat under his palm.

and maybe he does.

he buries his face in your neck, breathes you in, and closes his eyes—like maybe if he holds you tight enough, you’ll never slip away without him noticing again.

“you ever ignore my calls again, i’m gonna kill you… then bring you back just to yell at you.”

it takes a minute for your senses to catch up. the first thing you register is warmth—a lot of it. the solid wall of heat behind you, the weight of an arm slung heavy around your waist, a hand gripping your thigh like it belongs there.

you blink awake slowly, the sunlight slicing through the curtains, warm and golden against your cheek. your mouth is dry. your head is foggy. your entire body feels like it sank into the mattress and refused to surface again.

you open your eyes fully, only to find katsuki awake. already looking at you. already scowling.

he’s lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, messy blonde hair sticking up in every direction. his eyes are sharp—wide-awake, unblinking, trained directly on your face.

“you almost died.”

you blink. “what?”

“you almost died,” he repeats flatly, voice low and grumpy. “that’s the only excuse i’ll accept.”

you shift slightly, throat dry. “what are you—?”

“my calls,” he snaps, cutting you off. “my texts. ten fuckin’ calls, sweets. not a single goddamn word.”

you glance over at your nightstand. your phone is there. fully charged. blinking with a whole list of missed notifications.

“oh my god.”

your brain stutters through memories. class had wiped you out. you’d come home, tossed your stuff down, meant to take a quick nap—and clearly crashed harder than you thought. hard enough to sleep through ten calls and a boyfriend having a full panic spiral.

you roll onto your back, face him, voice small. “i didn’t mean to worry you.”

he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t answer. you could’ve passed out, gotten jumped, gotten hit by a fuckin’ car for all i knew.”

your stomach turns with guilt. “i’m sorry…”

he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, frustration fading into something a little softer. “i came home ready to break the door down. thought i’d find you hurt or... i dunno... fuck.”

his voice breaks a little on that last word.

your chest aches. you sit up slowly, sliding into his lap and cupping his face with both hands. he doesn’t resist. just leans into you, his arms wrapping tight around your waist like he needs you right there, like it’s the most natural place for them to be.

“i just passed out,” you whisper. “like… sleep coma status.”

“you didn’t even flinch,” he mutters. “thought i was gonna have to check your pulse.”

you snort softly. “i was probably dreaming about you yelling at me.”

he squeezes your thigh, resting his forehead to your collarbone. “not funny. you’re not allowed to scare me like that again.”

you can feel his heart thudding against your chest—still fast, still a little shaken. you lean against him and whisper, voice quiet: “what happens if i do scare you again?”

he pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. something soft settles in his expression. that sharp edge in his gaze dulls just a little—not gone, but mellowed, focused. it’s the look he only gives you, like you’re the only thing on the planet worth softening for.

he thinks for a second.

“first,” he says, tone completely serious. “i panic. obviously.”

you snort.

“then,” he continues, brushing a thumb along your jaw, “i break into your phone, make it so the ringtone screams your name at full volume. every time. forever.”

you giggle. “that’s horrifying.”

“i’m not done,” he deadpans. “next, i put a gps tracker in your backpack. and your keychain. and maybe your bra.”

you raise a brow. “my bra?”

“don’t question my methods, woman. i need intel.”

you laugh again, leaning fully into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. he goes quiet. arms wrap tighter around you, firm and warm.

“maybe... i’d hold you like this,” he says, low and sure. “and not let go for a long time.”

you close your eyes as his hand slides up your back, smoothing slow circles into your spine. the rest of the world fades out, tucked away beneath the weight of his embrace and the soft beat of his heart against your cheek.

“and,” he adds, voice barely a whisper now, “i’d make sure you never forget how much you matter to me.”

your throat tightens a little. you bury your face deeper in his neck, smile trembling.

“okay,” you breathe.

“yeah?” he murmurs, holding you a little closer.

“yeah. i promise not to scare you again."

there’s a beat of silence. then—

“good,” he mutters. “’cause i might start showing up to your classes and shit.”

you snort into his shoulder, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. “i promise i’ll keep my phone on ring from now on.”

“you better,” he grumbles, then pauses. “swear to god, i aged five years in seconds.”

you smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “you’ll still be hot, even gray.”

he gives you a dry look. “tch. you’re lucky i love with you.”

you grin. “i know.”

his eyes narrow. “oh, do you now?”

and that’s when it happens—he pulls back just enough to stare at you, eyes narrowed, before reaching up and squishing your cheeks between both hands, mushing your lips into a pout.

“you have to say it back,” he barks, holding your face like a grumpy old man scolding a puppy, his thumbs digging into your squishy cheeks. “or i’ll keep doin’ this.”

you try to speak, but it just comes out as a muffled, “i lubb youuuu.”

he snorts, his grin slowly tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“i love you more, sweet girl,” he mutters, releasing your cheeks.

your lips are still puffed out from where he squished your cheeks, but he kisses them anyway—warm and slow and just a little too soft for someone who was grumbling about murder five minutes ago.

his palm stays on your jaw, thumb brushing lazily along your cheekbone, as if he’s still making sure you’re real. your cheeks are still tender from where he squished them, the warmth of his palm lingering.

you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, and you let yourself melt a little further into him.

wrapped up in warmth and safety and the ridiculous, overprotective heart of the boy who loves you more than he knows what to do with.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ this happened to me last week and i missed the opportunity to buy what i want from mcdonalds 💔 (the minecraft toys here are ASS) hope you guys enjoyed, also how do i make them fuck any suggestions 👉👈

it's the last day you can rb this

Larry Johnson who…

Refuses to let you out of bed once he has his arms wrapped around you. Back against the headboard, you between his legs with your back pressed against his chest.

You’d been moving around Larry’s apartments the entire day, cleaning every single room until it was spotless.

Larry couldn’t understand it, poor man just wanted to wrap you up in his arms, smoke a blunt and get cozy for a movie.

And it took all damn day to get you into bed with him. And when he had you with him, you wouldn’t be moving for the next four hours.

His long hair was tied into a messy bun, courtesy of you skitzing about his hair tickling your neck, and he rested his chin on your shoulder. Watching as you rolled a blunt with the manga flavored cigarillo shell you’d snagged from Sal earlier that day.

“I don’t think mango’s gonna taste good.” Larry mumbled, his breath fanning your neck.

“Hush now,” reaching behind you, you blindly touched at his face till you found his mouth, “it’ll taste amazing.”

It in fact did not. Larry coughed like it was his first time hitting a blunt and cringed. His nose wrinkling as he immediately handed it back to you. “Like I said, it doesn’t match.”

“I dunno what’s wrong with you, but this shit slaps. Thank you very much.” You just huffed, and took a deep drag before blowing it in his face.

“You are so lucky I’m in love with you.” Larry rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around you.

“You’re obsessed with me.” You grinned before paying attention to the show Larry had begged you to watch with him.

I'm in my Sally Face era for the billionth time 🤭

Gojo who fucks you in outrageous positions just to be petty.

(This is short as shit)

“O-oh fuck—“ Your nails dragged down his back. Your muscles aching but the pleasure was just too good.

“You can take it-, fuck, don’t run from it.” He had that annoyingly sexy grin on his face. Knowing damn well there was no possible way you could run from his cock.

He had you pressed against the wall, leg straight up, and ankle by his head, while you balanced on one foot and leaned against the wall. He’d called it the ‘lustful leg’.

Gojo had an arm wrapped around your thigh, and the other on your hip as he slammed in and out of you. This position, thank god for your flexibility, had him going so much deeper. Way too deep at first because you swore he was in your guts.

And that wasn’t just the only position. Because immediately after this bastard busts a load inside you, he is hoisting you up. The back of your thighs are flush against his chest, and his hands have a bruising grip on your ass as he once again bullies his cock inside you.

This wasn’t just sex. No this was a fucking work out. Suicides runs couldn’t wear you out as much as these damn positions.

“So, what if we try the ‘socket’?” Gojo looked at you with an eager grin but you just flipped him off.

Your body ached but at the same time felt so damn good. You finally let it melt into the mattress with a groan as your spine decompressed.

“What book did you buy?” You pulled your face out of the pillow and glared at him.

“…the Kama Sutra-“

“I’m burning that book.”

“Baby nooo!”

Would people join if I made a discord and we talk about crazy shit and smoke weed or like if you don’t smoke that’s fine you can sip some bug juice

Like I just wanna talk some like crazy weird one braincell I hate sience type shit

Pelase

Please

why is privacy so eroded. I get treated like a nutcase if I say no, I don't want strange companies taking pictures of my home and putting them online for maps or whatever. I don't want to be in the background of your tiktok, and I think it's weirder for you to assume I'm okay with it than it is for me to politely ask you to refilm it so my face isn't in the frame. I don't enjoy handing my employer a list of every online account I have and feeling under surveillance when I'm just shit posting or sharing pictures of my cats or garden harvest. I don't want to hear your private calls on speaker on the bus, esp when the person on the line doesn't know you're broadcasting their words to strangers. I don't want an algorithm guessing what will piss me off the most so I spend more time online, engaging with shit I don't want to see or hear out of outrage. I don't want any of this. it's total ass.

Larry Johnson at a metal concert.

—How Larry acts and what he does when he's at a metal concert with his gf.

A/n: This is just a little headcannon, but I'm prob gonna self-indulge and make a full fic about it. Just got back from the Atlanta concert for White Chapel, 200 stab wounds, brand of sacrifice, and another band I can't remember the name of. I got my shit rocked in that mosh pit but yk, it was fun. Ppl were passing around blunts in the stairwell beside the parking so that was dope.

During a metal concert, especially a heavy one (like white chapel or 200 stab wounds), yall will either be in the very front or in the back because the center is the mosh pit. And unless you like it, he’s not going in it without you.

He’s the type of boyfriend who will be behind you at the rail, arms either side of you like the whole time. And when they’re crowd surfers, he’s making sure you don’t get kicked or hurt.

Like he is putting his hands up to push the person to the guys end of the stage before you can even think to try and help lift the surfer.

Larry, if you’re in the back and you’re short, will lift you onto his shoulders so you can see. We’ve all seen Larry when they’re like in college, I think it’s chapter four, but man has got some biceps.

Larry is head banging like a mf with you.

He learns how to growl and death growl, and will say “we have Will Ramos at home.”

Larry will grab your hips to pull you close to him if people are being pushy. Like he’s all about concert vibe and the mosh pit n shit, but he’s making sure you’re safe.

If there’s a wall of death? He’s not letting you in it. He’s totally gotten black eyes or stupid injuries from doing that.

Larry who is also fucking you in the car to Sanity’s fall. I mean you are grabbing onto the arm rest between the seats and he’s sitting in the back, hands on your hips and fucking up into you. It’s either really slow because he’s tired or high, or really fast and aggressive because he still has a lot of adrenaline from the concert.

And when you get home, even if he doesn’t want too, you’re forcing him in the shower. Because being shoulder to shoulder and covered in 30 different flavors of B.O is not it.

foods ive been into lately