STOP I JUST REALIZED I DIDNT PUT THE PHOTO OF MINE I Got The Mary Sue One LMAO FHSJKSKA

i am once again asking how much money this state-funded school gets, there is NO reason for classes of 20 kids each to have a whole mansion for themselves like what! also brave to let the girls and boys live underthe same roof i feel like thats not very realistic, i think two big dorms for boys and girls would have sufficed but no there's like 6 mega mansions on the supercop campus now..... if bnha town used my taxes for these kids to live like this id joing shigaraki's little terrorist cell, too!!

I think people have talked at length about the fact that bnha ended up basically being super pro-cop and delivered nothing on its narrative critiquing hero society. but one thing I haven't seen commentary on yet is how bizarre the narrative on abuse is. bnha is a series where abusive father figures (e.g. endeavor, overhaul, shigaraki's father) and neglectful parents (e.g. toga's family) have been the origin for marginalization of children and, in the cases of the league, their eventual descent into actual crime and villainy. yet the single most prominent abusive father figure of the series (endeavor) got a redemption arc, while the second-most prominent abusive father (overhaul) got to survive. yet the children who suffered abuse (toga, shigaraki, touya) were not worthy of redemption nor even survival. it has very bleak implications on who gets a second chance in life and who doesn't. this is possibly the worst narrative on childhood abuse I have ever consumed btw lol

"You don't have to walk me home."

"It's nothing." Iruka rubs the back of his neck when he lies, flat palm against his skin as he smiles sheepishly. "It's not out of my way."

It is. He lives on the complete other side of the village, down by the schoolhouse. There's no real reason for him to meandering down here by the main gates, so close to you that the back of his hand brushes against yours intermittently.

It's rare that Iruka even comes out with the groups for dinner, let alone a couple of drinks. His cheeks are tickled pink from the alcohol, the smooth skin of his scar silvery white against it. Whenever you glance his way, it crinkles in the middle as he smiles.

"Really," he insists, "It's my pleasure. Besides, it's what boyfriends do."

Boyfriend. The term sounds so childish, but it makes your chest tense with excitement. Your relationship is still shiny and new, glimmering with a future of unknowns, polished with unfettered affection. Tonight was the first time you introduced him with that word 'boyfriend' and tonight was the first time his hand found yours under the table, out of view from the rest of the world.

The street lights barely illuminate the road, puddling weakly in their own respective spots and pulling weak shadows across the front of your apartment building.

"You should come in for a coffee," you say as you turn on your heel, stopping both of you short, "As a thank you."

"I don't drink coffee, but..." Iruka looks away for a moment, rather sheepish despite no one being around to witness, "I'd still like to come in, if I could."

Your face splits into a smile as you bounce on the pads of your feet, purely excited at the insinuation. Dating has its own set of rules, most of which are outdated, but appease the elders and their watchful eyes. Dates are usually done in groups, public displays of affection are kept to a minimum, and, most importantly, men aren't to come into a lady's home this late at night without pretense.

Like coffee.

You step forward into the dim, halfway there light of the lamp, and place your hand on his arm. He follows suit, but more daring, his hand finding the dip of your waist.

Appearance is important to him. Teachers are judged to a different standard than everyone else. These little rebellions only exist when there's no one else to hear them.

"I could make some food?" you offer, thing soft lilt to your voice more playful than anything. Iruka leans in, bonking his forehead against yours, and says:

"I don't want that either."

His hand scoops around the base of your neck, pulling you up and guiding your lips to the press of his own. There's an edge of innocence in the chasteness, physically buzzing with anticipation of more as he hums into you. Every breath between you is used to get closer; each exhale your chest deflates and he crushes you closer, that hand on your hip now snugly behind you, curling your back into him.

Each inhale he takes advantage of, tongue sneaking past your lips and lewdly pressing into yours. The lewdness of it all -the wet, spitty, desperate way he engulfs you deeper at every chance, the way his hand has drifted to squeeze the fat of your ass- surprises you so much that it's all you can do it keep up, holding on by his shoulders. The heat of his breath mingling with yours makes your whole body searing hot.

As if he knows, Iruka starts working his knee in between yours, thigh firm against your pussy and giving you some of the friction you desperately need. When you buckle into the contact, he moans like a wanton whore, open mouthed and deep, eyebrows crumpled together in rapture-

A low wolf whistle echoes down the street.

"Aw, get it, sensei-!" By the time you both scramble apart, the gaggle of youths (much too old to be his current students) is nothing but shadows running in the distance, guffawing as they go.

"You- hey-" Iruka's face is scarlet with embarrassment as he staggers over his words, both trying to yell and stay quiet enough not to wake your neighbors, "Go home, boys."

"They can't hear you, Umino." You pat his arm and a half-hearted laugh. You'd care more if you were younger, but age gave you thicker skin.

Your boyfriend apparently doesn't feel the same.

"Aw geez," he laments. Somehow, the kiss has mussed his hair, pulling a couple long strings in front of his face. "How embarrassing, people are gonna talk-"

"They were going to talk anyway-- people love gossip," you laugh, tugging at his sleeve, "Come inside and let's give them something to talk about."

His jaw flexes as he comes around to the idea, physically swallowing the shame of being caught.

"What happened to the food you were offering?" he teases, voice low and rolling. You turn away, walking towards the stairs to your building.

"Don't worry," you hum, "I'll give you something to put your mouth on."

here y'all go, just a simple fun one this time around! take this quiz and tell me what kind of cat you are! (=^･ω･^=)

[1:46 AM]

characters: suna rintarou x gn! reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.2k

warnings: suna carries you, food, one curse word

a/n: this took a concerning amount of time to write, requested by @svnaskink :]

there’s no time to sleep; not when suna’s cravings have been a pain in his ass the entire day.

what exactly has he been craving for though? don’t ask him because he doesn’t know either. all he knows is that he wants to eat something and he wants it now. perhaps a trip to the store could lead him to the answer.

he props his body up with his elbows, half of his back on the bed, and glances over to his side to see you sleeping. you look very peaceful. time to ruin it.

he generously gives your arm quick, firm pokes, but receives no reaction. “babe, wake up. hey. hello?” he pauses. “if you love me you’ll wake up.”

his heart shatters when you don’t.

now fully sitting up, he cautiously grabs his pillow from behind him and he really hopes you’ll forgive him for this but he also thinks you deserve it for cuddling your pillow instead of him. he hasn’t taken his eyes off your figure for a second, looking for a sign that you’re actually conscious and he isn’t welcoming death with open arms.

yolo, he thinks, then he winds his arm up to gather momentum and slaps it down on your torso.

you wake with a startle, eyes darting around the room even though it’s too dark to see anything and you worry when you don’t feel a warm body in your arms. “rin, are you okay?” your voice is scratchy, laced with sleep, and it’s just how he likes it.

he’s touched that he’s the first thing on your mind; consider his heart repaired.

“did you just fucking hit me with a pillow?”

suna pretends he didn’t hear you. “no, i'm not okay. far from it.” his voice, too, is scratchy and it would have been really nice to hear if you weren’t woken up so rudely.

you’re half-dead right now, so your ability to differ between his serious voice and his joking voice is basically nonexistent. you decide to blame the surreal atmosphere of the night and whatever is going on with suna for his poor decision-making skills and roll on top of him, hugging him tight because maybe he’s just sad that he woke up without seeing your pretty face in front of him. he loosely wraps his arms around your waist and you find yourself on the brink of falling asleep again to the steady beat of his heart.

“i want to eat something,” suna admits, dipping his fingers underneath the bottom of your shirt then softly rubbing your lower back.

you sigh, satisfied. you think suna should quit volleyball and pursue a career as a masseuse. “go ahead, we have a kitchen two seconds away.”

“but there’s nothing to eat here,” he almost whines. “let’s go to the store.”

“that didn’t sound like a question.”

“‘cause it’s not.” suna opens his eyes wide and raises his eyebrows to emphasize the meaning of his words.

“it’s—” you try to reach for your phone on the bedside table, grabbing at air until you feel something solid. even on the dimmest brightness setting, you’re still blinded by the screen and you have to squint to make the numbers out clearly. “— two in the morning, rin. can’t this wait until the sun rises?”

suna rintarou (25) literary genius, replies with an eloquent “no. let’s go, time to wake up,” and rapidly taps your back.

you lift your head up to his ear to mumble “over my dead body,” then bury your face into the crook of his neck (it always fits perfectly and you and suna both think you were made for each other), and close your eyes.

—

it’s your fault honestly. you’ve known suna for nearly half of your life so you should know that if he really wants something, he’s getting it. that’s how you got stuck with him for the past few years.

you don’t even want to know how you slept through suna carrying you out of bed, into the car, out of the car, and into the cart of the convenience store. hopefully no one saw any of that happening, but the worker eyeing the two of you warily makes your face heat up in embarrassment.

no longer are you in the comfort of your warm home, in your warm bed, and in suna’s warm arms. instead, you’re met with the opposite as you watch suna open a door to the freezer and pick up something that looks strangely similar to the ice cream tub you have at home.

suna feels a pair of eyes gazing at him so he turns to look at you, on the verge of becoming single, and gives you his signature charming half-smile.

“good morning,” he waves to you. “you look beautiful and i love you.”

“good morning,” you say with a scowl on your face. “you look ugly and unlovable.” you cross your arms and turn away from him, finally realizing that in this very uncomfortable cart, you’re covered by the emergency blanket suna keeps in his car for late-night rendezvous.

suna chuckles as he places the ice cream in your lap, which sucks out all the little warmth in your body and you’re pretty sure he did this on purpose to give you frostbite. he starts to push the cart toward the checkout counter where the same employee you saw earlier is currently at and you instantly hide your face. you make a mental note to never come to this store ever again.

he’s quick though, using a tactic he’s perfected over the years: making the cashier feel awkward to make them rush through the scanning and payment process. if you weren’t in the store’s shopping cart sometime at two in the morning, you might have subtly intervened; for now, you make a valid point in your head that you can’t be a good person all the time.

sometime during your internal talk, suna had wheeled you out of the store and now, as he helps you get out of the hard, metal cage, you stumble a bit.

“don’t go falling for me, sweetheart,” he says as he steadies you, and you want to wipe that stupid smirk off his stupid(ly gorgeous) face. he reaches for the blanket hanging off the side of the cart and wraps it around your shoulders, and smoothly tugs you forward to land a peck on your forehead. “wouldn’t want that happening, now would we?”

he goes to put the cart away while you fawn over your boyfriend wait in the car with the ice cream in your hands, and you remember that you have a very important question for him.

when he comes back, you allow him to put on his seatbelt first and as he puts the car in reverse, you ask him, “did you forget that we have ice cream at home?”

he purses his lips for a second, then mutters, “i ate it when you fell asleep again.” he gently pinches your cheek when you laugh and you can spot the faintest pop of red appearing on the tips of his ears.

and as he exits the parking lot of the store, well-past two in the morning, you take his hand in yours and kiss the back of it and say, “i love you too.”

in which suna and you babysit osamu’s daughter for an entire day

CLICK HERE FOR PART.2!

-> this is the consequence of being moots with the queen of baby fevers @tsukkisfatsimp

-> genre : fluffy af, but the ending is even fluffier :0 | word count : 2.4k (yeah….)

-> timeskip!suna x f!reader (ft. osamu and a tiny bit of atsumu)

it’s 8am when osamu’s familiar knock on your front door pulls you out of your thoughts and makes you put your coffee cup down. breakfast isn’t ready yet, but you sure are.

you’re rather quick to open the door, behind which osamu seems to be much more struggling with the two bags swung over his shoulder than with his daughter happily sitting on his left arm.

« i’ll pick her up around 8 if that’s ok with ya » he tells you as you outstretch your arms to relieve him from her featherlight weight. « lemme guess, suna’s still asleep ? » he asks, putting the bags down in your hall with a sigh of relief.

you nod evasively, already too busy poking the soft chubby cheeks of his undoubtedly well-fed daughter, who’s eyeing you with curious eyes.

« does he know that- »

« he doesn’t know anything » you whisper with a smirk at the thought that he still has no idea of what your day is going to look like.

« well, she’s been callin’ for him all mornin’ so he better brace himself - she might be clingy »

i sure hope she will, you think to yourself as osamu gives you some last-minute instructions, before leaving a kiss on his daughter’s forehead and walking back to his car - not without one last wave and blown kiss.

« alright sweetie, now that daddy’s gone… let’s go wake your uncle up » you smile mischievously at her and she immediately mimics your expression with a toothless grin.

Keep reading

isagi + rin both get bricked up when you put like a lollipop or candy you were sucking on into their mouth. especially if you tell them to open up and then close their jaw all soft

KUROO DJKSKSOWKALSOS I LOVE U

take my quiz: which haikyuu captain deserves to kiss u passionately under the moonlight in the pouring rain

With a single word from Netanyahu, the crossing was closed. With a single word, two million people were starved and buried! We are just numbers in the archives of this dark world. How long will this injustice continue? Our lives in Gaza are like those of prisoners. No food, no water, no electricity, no medical treatment. No basic necessities of life.

thunderstorms and reheated prawns

pairing; suna x g/n!reader

genre; domestic, fluff

warnings; puking, lame jokes, suna endearingly calls reader "(y/n)-chan"

a/n: a fanfic inspired by all the rain ive had lately, and the fact that my Ma made me prawns yesterday 🤷🏽‍♀️

The rain is relentless today.

It comes down in buckets as it hammers mercilessly at your window, running down the glass in thick streaks and sending the trees outside into a violent flurry. The sight of it alone is enough to make you shiver.

Luckily, it's far warmer inside your bedroom.

You're sitting on your bed with a heavy duvet thrown over your head like a makeshift tipi. There's a chill lofi beat playing quietly in the background, a warm cup of hot chocolate sits deliciously between your hands and you have no chores to tend to, having already sought to them the day before.

To put it simply, it's bliss.

That is until you get a text and you turn your head towards your phone that buzzes twice against the bedside table. Leaning over to retrieve it, your brows furrow a little when an odd message pops up under Suna's ID.

2 messages from Sunarin <3

hello (y/n) can you come over today big brother has a tummy ake and mummy and daddy are out

please thank you

You blink upon realising it's Suna's little sister who has his phone and you can't help but laugh at her message. You don't know what's funnier; his little sister not knowing how to spell "tummy ache" or the fact that she actually had to reach out to you for something as trivial as that.

Either way, after finishing the rest of your hot chocolate, you reluctantly crawl out from your little den, slip on some comfy clothes and head out the door.

*

"Knock, knoock."

You smile as Suna's little sister opens the door for you, albeit with a struggle since the handle was still a little too high for her. Like you this morning she's wearing her PJ's, giving her an overall relaxed appearance, save for her face which looks rather distressed.

"You need to come quick, onee-san! I think big brother's dying!"

You snort as she ushers you into the house, barely giving you time to take off your shoes as she pulls you towards Suna's bedroom. As you walk up the stairs you begin to wonder just how sick her brother really is. He seemed fine the last time you saw him— then again, Suna did always have the pesky talent of fibbing when it benefits him, like how he sometimes lies to his teammates about needing to babysit his little sister on Fridays just so he can have a longer weekend, or when he tells the twins he's deleted the videos he takes of them, only to bring them up for blackmail purposes later on. You wonder if perhaps this was another one of these instances and he'd simply faked an illness just so his little sister would leave him alone for the afternoon. (You knew how clingy she could get, especially when their parents weren't home.)

Still, you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt as you push open his bedroom door, only to wince as your boyfriend promptly vomits into a sick bowl.

Oh.

This time he's definitely not lying.

"Perfect timing, lil sis. Make yourself useful would you and fetch me a— (y/n)?"

You're torn between bursting out laughing or coo-ing at the sad scene before you. Your attractive boyfriend, usually standing tall (sort of) and looking all slick and sexy is reduced to nothing but a lump hanging off his bed, hair disheveled and sticking slightly to his forehead, his head half in the sick bowl, looking at you with the most disheartened, most sullen face you've ever seen.

"Just end me now, I guess."

This time you do laugh when Suna rolls back onto his bed, pulling the covers over his head like a moody teen.

"Wow, you really are worse off than I thought," you say as you start to approach his bed. His bedsheets rustle however as you take another step closer and you stop in your tracks when he speaks from under the covers.

"Out. I don't want you to see me in my decomposing state."

"Oh, don't be silly, Sunarin. This is what partners do. I'm supposed to help nurse you back to health." You walk to the other side of Suna's bed where the sick bowl isn't lying on the floor and gently rock him against the mattress. "Plus, didn't you just say you wanted your sister to fetch me?" You add with a smirk.

You watch as Suna worms an arm out from the duvets, blindly grabbing your wrist to stop you from shaking him.

"Stop moving me, you sadist. Or next time I'll aim it at you," he says, making you scrunch up your nose in disgust. "And no I didn't call for you, you just so happened to waltz into my bedroom."

You roll your eyes at Suna's usual bite, knowing it's nothing but bark. "You rather I tango in here instead?"

You bite back a laugh as your terrible joke makes Suna emerge from his bedsheets, the green eyes that poke out looking truly disappointed. "You dare come into my room and sully it with jokes like that."

"I know, I know. Sorry," you lie, before a grin makes its way to your face. "No but seriously, should I? Might bring a smile back to your face."

"Please don't," is all he says as he finally fully comes out the covers, sitting up against the bedframe, and although you know he's trying his best to fight it, there's that telltale twitch of his lips that indicate your goofing around has actually effected him. "What you can do is fetch me that glass of water." There's a short pause. "Please."

You smile, relieved that he's finally letting you take care of him. Then you notice that the hand he'd grabbed you with earlier is still holding your wrist. Switching roles, you take his hand in yours and bring it up to your lips, planting a small kiss to his inner wrist.

"Coming right up."

*

A glass of water with ice later and it's Suna who decides to join you downstairs. You hear his almost cat-like footsteps pad down the stairs and as you turn around you notice that he's freshened up a bit. His hair's no longer the hot mess it was earlier, instead it remains neat and unstyled, he's also wearing different sweats from earlier, that is to say the black joggings with the red stripe down the side of the leg that you'd gotten him for Christmas, along with the black sweater that you always love to borrow.

"Oh look, it's alive," you tease.

"Only just," he sighs before flopping heavily on the couch. He busies himself by switching on the TV and opening Netflix, which you recognise by the familiar opening screen sound.

"How're you feeling?" You ask as you place the cold water on the coffee table. Suna utters a quiet 'thanks' as he leans over to grab it, bringing it to his lips before taking a few swigs.

"Could be better," he drawls after downing almost the entire glass. "'Least I'm not blowing chunks in front of my s/o anymore," he mutters, voice still carrying traces of previously felt embarassement.

You chuckle at that, watching as Suna lays down on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes. "Don't worry, Sunarin. I'm sure other couple's have seen worse," you say as you take a seat beside his head.

He stays silent as you gently pull his arm off his face. At first he looks at you with a cocked eyebrow, most likely wondering what you were up to, but once you place the back of your hand against his forehead, he allows himself to relax and closes his eyes.

"What's the verdict, (y/n)-chan? Am I dying?"

You snort and roll your eyes at his theatrics. "You're not dying, you big baby. How did you even get sick anyway? You don't seem to have a fever."

After concluding that Suna's forehead wasn't any hotter than it should be, you gingerly brush a stray piece of his chestnut hair from his eyes, smiling when he exhales pleasantly at the gesture.

"I think it was the prawns I made yesterday. I was the only one who ate them and I'm the only one who's sick."

As Suna tells you this, you immediately start to see where this is going.

"Were they pre-cooked prawns?" You ask. "And did you reheat them more than once?"

"Yeah."

You sigh. Yup. "That'll do it." Shaking your head, you poke Suna's forehead as a scolding, making him squeeze his eyes shut and knit his brows together. "You're not supposed to do that, you know. You can get really sick."

"You don't say," he drones, shooing your hand off with his. "How did you know I was sick, anyway? If I didn't know any better I'd say you were stalking me."

Your nose scrunches up jokingly. "Ew, why would I do that? If I wanted to stalk someone I'd at least go for one of the twin—"

You're promptly cut off mid-sentence when a pillow collides into your face with a dull thud and you giggle when you're met with Suna's eyes narrowing warningly up at you. "I'm just messing with you, Sunarin. Your sister told me. She somehow got access to your phone."

"The little toe rag."

"You trying to say you're not grateful I came over?" You ask with a raised brow, crossing your arms defensively.

"Didn't say that now, did I," he replies cooly, sitting up to face you before a tiny smirk forms on his lips. "After all," you make a small yelp as Suna suddenly worms his way into your personal space, his long limbs wrapping around your body like a koala and purposely giving you no means of escape. "Now I have the perfect pillow to hold onto. One that'll nurse me back to health too."

You gawk, trying to wiggle out of his hold, only for him to pull you closer. "Hold on a minute— What if I need to pee?!" He ignores you completely and deliberately, and instead lazily nuzzles into the area between your chest and collarbone.

"Night night, pillow-chan."

You throw you head back against the couch.

Looks like you're not going anywhere.