Dan: *pulls Out Flowers*

if u reblog this in 45 seconds u will meet ur favorite musician(s). no matter what. they will be raised from the dead 4 u.

🌵 @amazingphil’s new merch inspired drawing 🌵 hope you like it! ✨

just want everyone to know, david dobrik, dan howell, phil lester, and jessie paege own my whole heart.

im begging for you to make a drummer bakugou based on that "i hate attention" video on tiktok of the girl on his lap

⊹ ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ divine agnes ! the coincidence that i also saw the video on my feed just as i was reading this ask. a bit suggestive, though not full-blown smut. fem!reader ♡

this was the part of the show everyone waited for.

it had started as a half-serious joke during rehearsals, but now, it was a signature moment—where the band performed shirtless and invited fans onto the stage. it was chaotic, but the fans loved it—always ate it up. every. single. time. katsuki, ever the showman despite his usual preference for controlled chaos, played along because, hell, why not? it wasn’t like anyone would hinder his ability to play the drums anyway.

tonight, as dunce face—their lead guitarist—went off stage and picked a handful of lucky fans onto the stage, his eyes locked onto you.

you stood out, not because you were screaming or jumping like the others, but because it felt like you were anticipating what is to come. a black, skin-tight dress that clung to your curves, highlighting the physical attributes of your chest, the stage lights making the fabric shimmer in a way that made katsuki’s throat feel dry.

before he could second-guess himself, he stood up, walked towards you—past eijirou and hanta, who were getting to know some of their chosen fans—and met you halfway on the stage.

“c’mere, princess,” he called, his voice rough but somehow carrying over the background music. “you enjoyin’ the show s’far?” bakugou took your hand—warm, steady—and guided you over to where his drums were and sat you carefully on his lap.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear over the music.

you looked down at him, smiling in a way that sent a slow burn through his chest. “yeah. i—yeah,” you whispered, unsure of what to say.

“relax, i ain’t gonna bite you,” he chuckled, letting your arms search for a place to ground yourself without feeling too awkward and uncomfortable. “hold on to me, yeah? wouldn’t want you fallin’ for someone else.”

katsuki barely had a second to brace himself before getting back into the rhythm. his hands moved on instinct, drumsticks striking with practiced precision, his legs pumping the pedals without missing a beat.

which was when he realized the problem.

his legs were moving.

you were sitting on his lap.

and every time his foot hit the bass pedal, every slight motion of his thighs—you moved with it.

you had your hands on his shoulders, gripping them lightly for balance, your pretty, sparkling nails pressing into his skin—he was sure it’ll leave a mark (good). every shift, every flex of his muscles beneath you made your body press just that much closer, and—fuck.

your dress.

that damn dress.

his eyes kept flickering down, catching glimpses of smooth skin, the curve of your chest barely restrained by the neckline, and the way the fabric clung to your waist. it was a distraction in the worst way possible, his brain fighting between focusing on the setlist and the fact that he had a gorgeous girl practically grinding on him in front of thousands of people. that particular friction had his mind reeling from thoughts, his pants suddenly feeling tighter from the straining of his throbbing cock.

you didn’t seem fazed at all, though. you were smiling down at him, completely unaware of the way his jaw had locked, how he had to dig his heels into the stage to stop himself from reacting.

“you look prettier up close,” you say, sultry whispers close to his ear that had katsuki huffing shortly.

this girl, fuck.

he forced himself to keep his cool, to rely on muscle memory to get through the song, but every little movement—it was practically humping at this point—sent another spark of heat racing through him. his fingers tightened around the drumsticks, knuckles white with the effort of keeping himself under control.

the worst part?

you were enjoying it.

not in a teasing, intentional way—but you were clearly having fun. there was nothing forced about the way you laughed when the crowd cheered, nothing fake about the way you met his eyes and grinned like you belonged there, like you knew exactly what kind of effect you had on him.

he almost fucked up a beat. almost.

katsuki never messed up during a performance, even if he’s had a hundred girls on his lap before, doing the same thing you were, but you were making it damn difficult to keep his head in the game. the exception above all to all of this.

and just as suddenly as it started, the song was over.

he helped you off his lap, graceful as ever, and for the first time in his life, katsuki found himself staring at a girl as you thanked him before you walked away—not because he was annoyed, but because he wasn’t ready for you to go.

before you disappeared into the crowd of fans being escorted off the stage, he caught your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“you liked it?” he asked, forcing his voice to sound steady, even though his heart was still pounding for an entirely different reason than adrenaline.

you tilted your head, considering. “i don’t really like too much attention,” you admitted. then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you added, “but… i wouldn’t mind if it came from you. in more ways than one, pretty boy.”

then you were gone, melting back into the sea of fans with your friends.

katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the lingering heat crawling up his spine. suddenly the cold air of the place gave him chills, as if he hadn’t been shirtless for an hour and a half by now. he was about to turn back to his drum kit when he noticed something.

a small, folded note is sitting on his stool.

his name was scrawled on it, and when he opened it, he found a simple message—and a phone number. maybe you’ve expected this from the very beginning.

his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but not quite anything else either.

tonight just got more memorable for him.

pro hero! katsuki bakugo drabble .

y'er so much trouble, aren'cha. includes blowjob, very vague? writing, fem! reader, slight perv! kirishima mention lol and adult themes, so mdni!!

you try not to, you really do. but sucking on katsuki's throbbing cock in the elevator of his agency is just so much fun. on the outside, you're just his secretary, sweet girl who god knows how, tolerates all those late night and early morning calls. your colleagues feel so much pity for you, ever since kirishima saw you sneaking out of leaving bakugo's house just in time for their early morning run, he came back to the office, loudly lecturing bakugo on how he can't overwork you like that.

so it makes it so much fun, to slide into the elevator, right after katsuki's blown his head off at some silly intern, fumes practically coming out of his ears as he repeatedly presses the button for the third floor. everyone stares at you in awe as you run right into the elevator. only you could face bakugo right now.

literally.

as he's about to scoff and grumble something stupid about how he's not in the mood to play around with you when the door finally closes and you smash him against the wall. normally katsuki bakugo wouldn't move an inch, but for you.

for you, baby, anything.

one hand of his is gripping your hair and fisting it into a ponytail as your head slowly moves closer to the base of his cock and then back to the tip, while his other hand struggles to find the emergency stop button of the elevator. "fuck fuck fuck- y/n, f-fuck, " he's throbbing in your mouth already, you can feel it deep in your throat as you hollow your cheeks against his girth, looking up at him with those fucked out eyes that he likes so much. he finally finds the button and smashes it right before it opens up on the third floor. and you can hear people outside groaning about how this is the fourth time this month.

as you're quickening your pace, hands wrapping around the excess of his length to help him finish, you can see him poke his tongue in his cheek, eyes shut as he tries so hard not to moan your name when you swallow all his orgasm. when he opens his eyes, it's to see the string of saliva and slick connecting your swollen lips to his softening cock as a few droplets of his cum drip down your chin. and that, is a sight he would never not want to see.

slowly, you get up from your knees, making a silly comment about how he's so much hotter in his winter uniform, and roughly brush your thumb against your bottom lip, collecting all the excess liquid and sucking on it as you watch color return to his cheeks.

"y'er so much trouble, aren'cha" he grins, eyes narrowing in fondness as he pulls you by your neck and sloppily smashes his lips against yours.

pulling back, he sighs before pressing the emergency stop button, eyebrows raising as he notices the crowd of people there, "get back to work you little shits, 'm not paying ya to loiter around-! and use thegoddamn stairs if the elevator ain't working! " and that classic workaholic bakugo act would've fooled everyone else, but when kirishima notices how everytime the elevator has acted up it's been the two of you going down, or coming up, he feels like he's connecting some dots, so he moves forward to catch a better glimpse, and there you are, oh, not to mention the very suspicious white stuff on bakugo's shoes. but it's okay, Kirishima won't tell anyone, maybe he'll take a quick check of the security cameras though, just to erase any evidence that might hurt his manly friend's rep, right? at least that's what he tries to convince himself of as he jolts downstairs with a boner harder than his quirk.

© starreo 2024. do not copy, translate or repost .

you know that feeling when you 😂🤣

danielhowell’s instagram story 02/08/2018

i’m sick

you’re unsure how he can look at you like this and not feel the same as you.

bodies bare, clothes scattered around his bedroom. lips plump and dry from being kissed so many times. you both lay on top of the covers, wrapped so tight in each others arms, his fingers always sneaking to link with yours. you keep your head on his bicep, the perfect spot to stare up into his eyes and guess what he’s thinking.

or really to wonder how he can stare at you with his thick stone walls down, his lips slightly parted like he will duck down for a kiss at any time, his eyes slightly drooped from his orgasm a few minutes ago. his arms are looped around your back, pressing you with no air between and you wonder perhaps the reason you’re overanalysing everything is to commit it all to memory. soon enough you’re going to be in the uber back to your home and he’s not going to be yours again. just a contact in your phone that maybe you text a little too much and although you’ve been seeing this man for months, you’re still unsure what he wants. and you’re too scared to ask incase it’s not what you want to hear.

he presses a kiss to your cheek, it’s so innocent it makes you laugh so he presses another, then another just so you get louder and as he pulls away you first think why, why why don’t you want me? how can you do this and not want me? then you wonder if he’s kissed all the makeup off your face.

a thick finger traces your spine as he lays on his back, bringing your body with his like there’s no choice that if he’s moving, you are too. another comfortable position, your thigh across his legs, a perfect position for you to sink your teeth into his pecs. he begins to talk about himself. often, you both drift to childhood. wonder if you’d be friends, in the same classes. if you can still see you at fifteen inside you now and staring at him, you know your answer is yes. the deep longing, yearning to be liked by a pretty boy still burns inside you now, in fact you think you hear her scratching the walls for you to beg him to tell you everything he has ever thought of you. but you don’t since you’re older now. you just nod and reply how you miss her.

you share a tidbit about your family, a follow up part from what you told him about through text. your father randomly bought cats and he asks why don’t you go visit them. he stares at your lips when he asks before flicking up to your eyes to read your expression. there’s still a few things he doesn’t know about you which is okay. you’d let him in if he let you. you know later your friend will tell you how can you share your body with somebody and be to scared to share your mind but she doesn’t get it and it feels like you’re the only person to go through this age old, what are we? do you want something serious? i think i like you more than you like me.

it’s time to go home because he has work early tomorrow and then some athletic class in the evening. it reminds you that you need to keep busy too, because clearly he doesn’t spend every waking hour thinking about you like you do about him. you’re pulling your clothes back on, thinking about getting into crochet while he lays in bed and stares at the bending of your limbs. you catch him and frown, so he says you’re beautiful. truthfully you believe him, in some capacity you know he thinks you’re not ugly. or maybe that’s stupid, you know he thinks you’re pretty. but you can’t accept it wholly because if he thinks you’re oh so beautiful, staring like you’re a piece of art, why doesn’t he want you? why isn’t he begging you keep you in his bed, willing to be late tomorrow because even though you wake up on time, you spent way too long kissing?

so you just shake your head, foregoing a thank you to scan the way he shifts around to pull on his underwear. he doesn’t ask why you stare, it feels as if he always knows what you’re thinking but he never mentions it. he asks if you’ve ordered your uber yet and you’re unsure if he’s simply just asking or he’s now kicking you out his house. if you knew he wanted you, a label on what you are, you think moments like these would be easier. then you know he’d want you to come back as soon as. you make another mental note after starting crochet to distance yourself from him. let’s see how long that will last.

he kisses you goodbye once the car is outside at 3:17am and your feet are shoved in your shoes. you rest your hand on his cheek during the kiss, pressing your lips to his knowing the next time you do this you’ll probably still be in the same spot. confused and out of control.

when you finally step out his front door he tells you to text him when you’re home. you reply that he will be asleep and you ignore how he says “so?”

once you climb into your uber, not turning around to check if he’s still at the door because you know he won’t be, you think about crying. you have before in an uber so that won’t be anything new. instead you sit, thinking about him and the god awful radio station the drivers put on.

when you’re finally home, pyjamas on and climbing into bed, you get a text.

him: Home?

you: yes

Pretty boy detected