fatgum-sugarplum

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"kats, your tag's stickin' up."

katsuki hums in some kind of recognition, your remark of no particular interest to him at the moment. he's sitting with his back to you at his kitchen table, hunched over a bowl of cereal—the boring kind that's good for you, the kind of stuff your grandma likes—and a textbook that's been meticulously highlighted and has notes written in the margins. you reach towards the back of his neck without thinking, pinching the little tag between your fingers and tucking it back down under the collar of his t-shirt. your fingertips brush against the warm skin at his nape as you do so.

the boy in front of you grunts in surprise at the unexpected contact, his shoulders lifting all the way up to his ears as he pitches himself forward across the table away from you. he almost knocks his bowl of cereal over in the process, and he chokes loudly on the mouthful he's chewing as he goes.

"the hell was that for?" katsuki barks out hoarsely after he's managed to swallow down the cereal lodged in his throat, he doesn't turn to look at you as he says it.

"jeez," you remark incredulously, startled by his reaction to such an innocuous gesture. "i was just tucking in the tag!"

"never asked you to do that," katsuki grumbles as he settles back in his seat. you watch as he fiddles with the spoon in his bowl, but doesn't take another bite, and you can't help but notice the pink flush that's crawled up his throat all the way to his ears.

"hey," you remark curiously, still standing behind him with your hands on your hips. "is your neck ticklish?"

he finally turns in his seat, glaring at you over his shoulder.

"no," he snaps.

his cheeks are pink too.

you and katsuki have only been hooking up for a few months, so there are lots of things you don't yet know about each other. sure, you've been superficially acquainted since high school—at least enough to recognize each others' names—but knowing someone in passing and knowing the intimate intricacies of their body are two vastly different things. hell, this is only your second time spending the night at katsuki's apartment, and the first time ever on a school night.

your eyes glance over to the clock on the stove at the reminder. it's still only 7:30—katsuki had risen at the ass-crack of dawn, much to your horror. his first class isn't even until 11:00 while yours is at 9:30, and you would have happily slept in for another hour if not for him waking you as he crawled out of his bed.

"hey, you mind if i borrow a shirt or something to wear to class?" you ask him, scratching at the warm skin of your tummy under the oversized hoodie you'd pulled on when you rolled out of his sheets that morning. you wouldn't be opposed to keeping it on, but it's a nice brand—and one of his favourites, given how often you've seen him wear it—so you don't dare request it.

katsuki turns to look at you again, cheeks still pink, eyes still narrowed.

"a shirt?" he asks. "why?"

"you got cum—"

"for fucks' sake," katsuki interrupts you, looking away—largely, you suspect, to hide the renewed reddening of his cheeks. "didn't you bring a change of clothes?"

"i would have," you chirp, "but if i recall correctly, the text you sent me at 11:30 last night seemed like me getting here right after i left the library was suuuuuper important."

"just.. wear that one." katsuki waves his hand dismissively over his shoulder, and you stare at his back a little dumbfoundedly. you hadn't expected that at all.

he shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

katsuki sure has been full of surprises these past few months. you learn more about him every day. and not just about his body and what makes him feel good—that's sort of a given with casual, no-strings relationships like this one—but about his likes and dislikes, his quirks and eccentricities too. like what he eats for breakfast, or how his neck is ticklish, or the way he organizes the shoes on the shoe rack just inside his front door. you're not sure you dislike it, either, unravelling him bit by bit.

and katsuki doesn't say it, but he feels largely the same—realizing with every passing day that he's uncovering more about you than he ever thought he would that first night the two of you ended up fooling around after running into each other at a bar near campus.

katsuki had just gotten out of a long-term relationship. well, just meaning five months prior—though his friends often remind him that there's nothing "just" about five months. but contrary to popular belief, katsuki had always been a serial-monogamous dater, going from one long-term relationship to the next without any flings in-between. he had no intention of hooking up with anyone, least of all you, that night.

but one thing lead to another, and now here you are: shuffling around his kitchen as you try to find where he keeps his mugs, wearing his favourite sweatshirt. and katsuki knows you take two sugars in your coffee. knows you'll wait until the absolute last minute to head to campus for your 9:30 class. knows you'll take your notes in purple pen through your lecture because you claim the colour helps you remember the lesson.

but it's not just you who katsuki's learning things about these days.

for example, he's learning that maybe he's just not cut out for casual dating.

because every little thing he learns about you is starting to feel a lot like a string.

#Im kicking my FEET AND GIGGLIBG

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"You guys are so lucky."

Ochako takes Izuku by the hand, that sweet, rosy smile filling her cheeks. The whole table whoops and hollers as Izuku brings her hand to his mouth and places a kiss directly on the engagement ring.

"I think we're pretty lucky too," Izuku whispers. Sero gags, finger in his throat, and Denki collapses into giggles. From across the table, Iida joins in, covering his smile with the back of his hand.

Tomorrow night, they'll be married. The ceremony is small, just a handful of friends and family, so most of you here won't be attending. You're fine with that- a couple of fancy cocktails is enough celebration for you.

"High school sweethearts," you sigh, "How romantic. I wish someone liked me in high school."

Sero snorts and Ochako sighs; you immediately know something is up. When you glance around the table, everyone is either avoiding your gaze or sniggering, partaking in some sort of shared secret. Turning to Iida for information, you find that he's the worst of them all, adjusting his glasses over and over again.

"You mean someone else," Denki says after a while.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Denki jerks his head to the side with a conspiratorial grin, "Iida was rock hard for you all through high school."

The man in question sputters-- hard. Iida chokes on his beer and dissolves into a round of coughs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he tries to gather himself again. The rest of the table is a cacophony of sound: Izuku thumping the poor man's back, Sero and Denki are howling with laughter, Ochako scolding the gang. You want to laugh too because the idea feels impossible -Iida, the collected, calm, polite one of the group, certainly couldn't have been 'hard' for you-- but then you see his face.

"I-" Iida's glasses are halfway down is his nose, "That is not--"

"Oh my god, dude-- you're bright red!"

Iida really is scarlet. It runs down to his chest, shirt unbuttoned just enough that you can get a peek. He can't meet your eye, looking up and down aimlessly. You've never seen him like this before-- not with his exes, not with crushes; that makes something inside you flutter.

"Are you guys just teasing me?" You manage to laugh.

"You didn't know?" Izuku asks.

"No!"

"Are you kidding? Everyone else knew. This guy-" Sero pats Iida's broad chest, overly familiar - "Would lament about you all the time. About how you walked, how you dressed-"

"Sero Hanta-" Iida chides.

"-how you rolled your skirt after training," Denki finishes.

"I did not!" Iida quickly defends himself. His hands are wringing around his beer, tracing the same pattern over and over again as he glances around the group. His eyes never make it your way.

"Oh, you kinda did," Ochako cuts in with a giggle.

"Sorry, Iida. You did," Izuku agrees.

"Well, it wasn't- It's not because I thought you were--" he huffs, "The school dress code said skirts had to be past fingertip length, and yours were- You rolled the hem and--"

Iida swallows hard and finally meets your eye. He looks miserable, lips drawn into a straight line.

"Well, I wish you would have told me you liked me-"

"I did not like you."

"I would have rolled my skirts shorter."

The table breaks into laughter again, but Iida just grows pinker.

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anytime you cry Sero immediately goes "oh, baby, your mascara!"

#I need someone like Sero 😭😭😭😭😭

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I saw some #discourse go by about how adults shouldn’t be in fandom writing about younger characters because it’s uncomfortable and gross to younger people to have adults ‘thinking about them’ in romantic/sexual terms.

1, This is not a restriction that any writers in any other venue have to deal with, wtf, or the entire YA genre would be banished; 2, Excuse you, children of Tumblr, no one is thinking about you.

If other people in fandom are older than you, by definition, they have been your age. When fans write about younger characters, we’re not peering through a keyhole at young people now and creeping on them.

We are drawing on our own experiences, thoughts, feelings and memories of what it was like when we were that age.

No one has the right to ask older writers to cut themselves off from their own past just because young’uns don’t want to acknowledge that people in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, all of them, were also young once. I’m 41, but I remember vividly what it was like to be 14. If I write a high school AU, it’s about my high school experience, even if I were to set it in the present day and decorate it with some (probably comically out of touch) Stuff The Kids Are Into Now. If I write a high school AU with sex, it’s because I remember that too! I’m not thinking about kids today, why would I– I have my own experiences to draw on. And honestly, sometimes there are things about being young that you don’t really understand until you’re much older and have some perspective– and that’s worth writing about.

If someone is genuinely a creeper, you’ll know, because they’ll ask you questions about you. But people who aren’t even directly interacting with you, who are just expressing themselves in fiction, are not a threat to you, and it’s not creepy for them to draw on their own experiences and their own past to write about younger characters.

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You’ll be taking his fat cock all night long. ✨

[fatgum-sugarplum]

Waking up in Vegas married to handsome stranger Eijirou Kirishima.

#WE'LL MAKE IT WORK

[fatgum-sugarplum]

ur sukuna favorite wife blurb has rotted my brain like that is a NEED now

cw: sukuna has multiple wives, a bit of wlw fetishization, degradation

"Why am I your favorite?"

Sukuna doesn't try to deny it. He can't, not when you're tucked into his bed, draped in only the jewels he's gifted you. None of the other wives are even allowed in his bedroom without permission, and yet you're here, just like you are almost every night.

He shrugs his robes from his shoulders and then he's bare, two half hard cocks hanging between his legs. It's been a while since you were frightened by this true form of his, but you can't deny it's monstrous. Four arms, a twisted mouth, a forever grinning maw across his stomach: it's be a horror if it wasn't your husband.

"Does it matter?" His lip curls as he speaks.

"It does to me," you say as you pat the bed beside you. Like a dog summoned, he eagerly crawls forward on to his hands, pulling the sheets down as he approaches.

"Maybe it's because your tits are so suckable."

First, he kisses the string of pearls across your neck and runs his tongue across the diamonds, savoring the salt of your skin on them. Then, he moves to the swell of your tit. His dagger edged teeth nip the skin and a bloom of heat stirs inside you. A bruise is already coming to the surface.

"Mai has bigger breasts than me," you pount out, breathless.

"Your skin is soft," he retorts. His free arms are clutching for you, digging into the fat of your ass.

"Gena is younger. Her skin is much more supple."

"Your cunt is sweet."

"Not as sweet as Lyla's."

Sukuna pauses for a moment, mouth half closed around your nipple. He leans back after a moment, a dark chuckle on his lips.

"Have you been licking the other wives while I've been away?" He leans in like he's angry, but the wicked grin across his face tells a different story. "Whore."

He says the word with such joy. One of his cocks is hard against your inner thigh, twitching to go back inside you, where it belongs. The mouth across his stomach has begun to drool, warm droplets of spit wetting your lower stomach and pubic hair. When you move your thighs, you aren't sure if the slick is from you or from him.

"I've tasted her on your cock, sire." You keen forward for a kiss and he lets you take one, even letting you linger for a moment, "And on your lips."

"I'm tempted to summon her now, just to see you between her legs." Sukuna gathers both cocks in one hand, guiding them towards your core. The thought of stretch to fit both makes you squirm, but his sturdy hands keep you in place, "Her cum in your lips must be a heavenly delight."

"Does that mean she's your favorite now?"

Real anger flashes across his gnarled face. With gritted teeth, he leans back onto his knees to tower about you.

"Woman, you are more hassle..."

He suddenly grips your hair and tugs, dragging your face centimeters from his. He moves your body like it weighs nothing to him, and yet he's careful not to hurt you.

"I will say this once and never again, so listen." Sukuna's eyes are sharp and narrowed, "You are the only wife I love. That is the reason you are my favorite."

Just as suddenly as he grabbed you, he lets you go. Your fall is softened by the mountain of pillows-- all of which bought just for you.

"Now, spread your legs and never ask a stupid question again."

#IM LOSING #my MIND

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to be sukunas favorite wife

#Im screaming without the s frankly

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[fatgum-sugarplum]

currently thinking about. . .

satoru who goes absolutely crazy each time you put it back in after it slips out.

cw. female!reader, vaginal sex, tit-sucking, implied creampie, slight dom/sub dynamics (dom!satoru, sub!reader).

the first time it happens is on accident. 

he’s too caught up in the way the fat of your ass jiggles with each deep thrust, too mesmerised in the feel of your soft skin between his fingertips as he gives one of your cheeks a firm squeeze. satoru’s lust-riddled brain simply didn’t take note of the way his hips started to move a little too fast, a little too quick. 

all he’s able to focus on as he takes you from behind is you, you, you—and certainly not the way his heavy cock suddenly slips out of your slippery cunt. a few drops of pre-cum dribble down the base as he involuntarily pulls out, some of it staining the back of your thighs. there’s not a lot of time to process the fact, as he’s back inside your dripping pussy almost instantly. 

your greedy hands reach for him immediately, securely wrapping around his base and slamming your hips back against his once he’s lined up again. there’s not even a chance for him to miss the warmth of your sweet pussy.

you wouldn’t even let him. 

satoru is pretty sure he’s going to cum on the spot at the realisation, and has to really, really fight himself not to finish prematurely. a deep groan rumbles from his chest, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head, as he thinks about how quick, how disguistingly eager you were as you scrambled to put him back inside. 

as if that slutty hole of yours can’t even go a second without being filled by him. 

a string of curse words tumble past his lips, and he fucks you a little harder than usual that night. 

since then, satoru’s been subtly letting himself slip out of your cunt each time the two of you have sex. the physical aspect of it isn’t hard; you’re always so incredibly wet, he’s out in a second. mentally, he’s at war with himself—though, seeing you whine and whimper as you hastily reach for his cock again makes those few agonising seconds without your warmth all worth it. 

something about the gesture makes you look desperate, impatient, and it’s all for him. and fuck, did it turn him on. 

there’s one time where he briefly suspects you’re onto him and his antics, as you insist on riding him. on being in control. it’s not something you do often, though usually he fucking loves it when you do (he still does, admittedly)—but with you on top and holding the reigns, it removes his opportunity to see you scramble to put his fat cock back inside. 

but, he’s nothing if not an optimist, so, of course, he’ll make the best of the situation. 

with the way they bounce so prettily in front of him as you rock your hips back and forth, he’s almost incapable of not sucking on them. and so, he decides to stifle his previous complaints by taking a mouthful of your tits. there’s always next time, and as he sucks on your breasts and feels you move up-and-down, he completely forgets about his former plans. 

riding him was simply one of your whims, it turns out, and the next time the two of you have sex he’s back in his usual spot. and the time after that, and after that, and after that—and as long as he’s there, he’ll keep making you desperetaly stuff his cock back inside. 

satoru’s breathing heavily now, the mere thought of it (combined with your walls griping around him like a vice) almost enough to make him dizzy. with your legs over his shoulders and thighs pressed up against your chest, cheeks stained with dried tears and soft, high-pitched moans and hiccups leaving your lips—he can’t help but feel the familiar itch to ruin your fun.

even if it’s just for a little bit.

he does so at once. the mixed release of both you and him from previous rounds leak out of you as he does so, and your pussy twitches around absolutely nothing. 

immediately, you frown. it’s small, cute, almost, and then your hands search for his cock again. though, this time, the position he (very purposefully) put you in makes it difficult—satoru fights off a grin as you scrunch your nose in dissatisfaction. 

“. . .’toru,” you mumble, and attempt to grab him again. your voice is hoarse, broken from the sweet noises you’ve made for him so far. “wh—what’re you doing?”

“hm?” he hums. 

a little smile settles on his lips as he prods your entrance with his tip, smearing the cum—most of it his—along your puffy folds. he toys with your pussy, the squelching sounds as he moves his cock near your cunt (but never quite in it) feeling like absolute music to his ears.

he hears you sniff. “. . .’toru,” you mumble, voice a soft whine. you try moving closer to him, to push yourself down on him, but he simply pushes your thighs harder against your chest. “please, j—just. . .”

satoru fakes a dramatic sigh. “you’re so spoiled,” he comments, and relishes in the way your eyes roll back as he slides back in all at once. “so, incredibly spoiled.” he tuts, starting his thrusts again. he brings his face closer to yours, as if it’d make him hear all your pitiful sounds better. “can’t even go a second without my cock, can you? ‘t slips out for a second, and my pretty girl’s already whining.” 

he doesn’t get a proper response out of you, but that’s okay. he doesn’t need to. there’s no sweeter sound than your fucked-out babbles, anyway.

and they often sound even sweeter after he temporarily deprives you of his cock. 

satoru smirks as he looks down at you.

no, he’s definitely not stopping this any time soon. 

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

[fatgum-sugarplum]

gojou satoru who suffers with migraines due to his six eyes and the oversensitivity that comes with it.

gojou satoru who point blank refuses to be around you with a blindfold or his glasses on because he wants to see you, not just your energy.

"y'know if you just wore your glasses this wouldn't be happening," you shake your head as you lay a cool flannel across satoru's forehead. having once again opted to not wear his glasses for your date to the local theme park, you were now once again finishing your day with satoru's brain completely overwhelmed. thus ensuing the migraine.

satoru grins, opening just one eye to take a glance at you, straddling his waist as you take care of him. "and miss being treated by my favourite nurse?" his voice is full of amusement but he closes his eye too quickly and with a wince and it feels so wrong to see him in physical pain - he is the strongest, after all.

you lean forward to press delicate kisses to the tip of his nose, then each of his cheeks, then just above his eyes... you hover over his lips for a few excruciatingly long seconds.

"it's doctor," you retort, "shoko said so." satoru stifles a laugh (unsuccessfuly), given the fact that shoko herself hadn't exactly earned her doctorate in the most reliable manner.

"is dr gojou better?" his lips tilt into a small smirk and he's baiting you, his girlfriend with your own last name. not his.

"if this is your way of proposing," you shift to the left to whisper directly into his ear, "i'll glue your eyes open. forever."

"what!" satoru gasps, clutching his shirt just above where his heartbeat, "that is so unnecessary. why is my wife so mean?" your heart jumps at the endearment and you've never felt as full and content as you do when you're with him. no matter how he proposed, you'd only ever say yes, yes, yes, yes-

"you're so lucky i love you." you roll your eyes, leaning down to kiss him properly nonetheless. he smiles widely against you, his teeth lightly knocking into yours as he tries to pull you in closer, one hand on the back of your neck.

"i know baby," he agrees, muffled by your lips. he blindly pats the space on the bed next to him. "come lay with me till i'm better. can't make it without you."

gojou's dramatic, he's always been dramatic, but he's your drama queen and if he decides that the only way he's going to survive this headache is by holding you close to him then who were you to deny such a thing.

#I'm screaming this is so cuuuute

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so u are not against writing a part 2 if someone asks for it in a certain way?

i mean there’s no guarantee i’ll write it if i get asked a certain way but what i’m trying to get at is that if you actually word it in a way that makes writers feel like you thought something was enjoyable enough that you would rly enjoy more, they would feel motivated to maybe expand. simply saying “pt 2 pls !!” just makes me feel like im something u expect what u want out of me instead of someone sharing their hobby

#Fic writers aren't a fucking gumball machine

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I'm squealing I'm kicking my feet I'm giggling like a schoolgirl salgjsalkgjlasjglkasj

fieldreporter!reader x pro-hero red riot who blatantly flirts with you live on the news

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sero gives you piggy back rides whenever he walks you home

#I LOVE HIM!!!!!!!

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