“He’s A Villain! You Only Like Him Because He’s Hot.”

wonder trio : favorite type of date ?

shoto todoroki is in need and has been yearning for tranquility and quiet all his life. away from loud voices, and chaos. his heart is the embodiment of soft, and gentle love. the kind where both of you would find each other planning a future together, but without uncertainty or hesitation. the kind of love where the sound of papers crinkling under your hands as you attempt to make paper rings sound like wedding bells instead of actual paper. shoto adores going into art museums, adoring the many pieces of art— including you.

katsuki bakugou is the personification of fiery passion and unstoppable energy. the tough walls that surround him is as tough as his own personality— mirroring his physical strength, his love for training and competition. talking about strength, the blonde would love gym dates, where you two challenge each other with beating hearts, passing your limitations while the air is intoxicated by thrill and andrenaline. it’s a stupid thought, but does he have his sweat— which is like nitroglycerin, in his heart? maybe that’s why it suddenly feels like on the verge of exploding every time he looks at you.

boundless curiously was something that seemed to swim in izuku midoriya’s heart daily. his favorite date is one spent in a cozy bookstore, where each aisle is a treasure trove of stories waiting to be uncovered. with izuku, the simple act of browsing through shelves becomes almost an ethereal act, his love for adventure and learning shining through with every page turned. being in that bookstore with him, surrounded by the scent of paper and the promise of new worlds and visions, feels like living in a storybook where every moment is filled with happy endings and endless possibilities.

© 2024 JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites or copy my work without permission. ty!

When you're trying to find plot but you keep seeing porn without plot

gym bros 💪

yall ever read a fanfic so majestic it completely altered your entire life

Bakugou who just loves to look at you when you’re getting ready, it’s like he’s in a trance. As your putting on your clothes, doing your hair and makeup his eyes will never leave your figure till you’re done. He likes to get ready fast first so he can see you get ready. The first couple of times his eyes are on you, you get flustered and shy and tell him to stop looking at you while you’re getting ready. He’ll just grunt and mumble how he isn’t looking at you and looks away from you, but not even a minute later his eyes are drawn back you. As time passes you’re soon used to his eyes staring at you, now you love it and get giddy when he looks at you. Making getting ready feel intimate and special. He will never get sick and tired watching lovely you get ready.

THIS WAS SOOO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN WOWW

The Weight of a Shadow | G.W.

George Weasley has spent his life as one half of a whole, his individuality often lost in the glow of his twin’s boundless charm. Beneath the laughter and mischief lies a quiet struggle, a longing to be seen as more than a shadow. But when you enter his world, something shifts, and for the first time, George finds himself seen, not as a twin, but as a whole. In this universe, you chose him.

Click here to read an alternate universe where you chose Fred instead of George.

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

Fred always seemed to burn just a little brighter. His laugh, bold and wildfire-strong, lingered long after the echo of their pranks had faded. Applause always found him first, the crowd magnetized by his magnetic confidence. Even in quieter moments, it was Fred they gravitated toward—his charm effortless, his presence undeniable.

George would smile through it all, as though the comparisons didn’t sting, but deep within, an ache brewed. A quiet storm he kept to himself.

Maybe it was the way Fred's grin tilted, sharper and more self-assured, or the ease with which his voice commanded attention. Perhaps it was something intangible, something George couldn’t touch even if he tried. Whatever it was, it gnawed at the edges of his heart, a silent weight he carried alone.

And then, there was you.

You arrived one sunlit afternoon, a quiet force with a magic that had nothing to do with spells or wands. Unlike so many others, you didn’t lose yourself in Fred’s blaze. You didn’t mistake George’s laughter for an echo, or his presence for half of a whole. The way your gaze lingered on him felt like sunlight on frozen ground, a warmth he hadn’t realized he’d been yearning for. You saw him. Truly saw him.

At first, George doubted it. Surely, you’d mistaken him for Fred, like so many others had. But you disproved him at every turn. You caught the subtleties. The way George’s humor leaned toward sharp wit, while Fred’s was louder and bolder. The precision in George’s hands as he worked on their inventions, where Fred’s energy was a chaotic whirlwind. You noticed the faint scar above George’s brow, a remnant of a long-ago experiment gone wrong. And when you touched it one day, your fingers brushing the mark with such tenderness that it left him breathless.

For the first time, the ache began to fade. Slowly, it dissolved into something lighter, something warmer. When you laughed at his jokes, it felt like the world cracked open to let the light in. When you spoke his name—just his name—it was a melody that played only for him. And when you reached for his hand, your fingers tangling effortlessly with his, it felt as though the universe had quietly clicked into place.

Fred noticed, of course. He always did. He had been George’s mirror for as long as they had existed, and the change in his twin was impossible to miss. George’s laughter came easier now, his smiles unguarded and brighter. And Fred saw the way you looked at George, with a kind of quiet adoration that pierced straight through his own bravado.

But Fred never spoke of it. Not when George’s smiles grew wider, not when the light in his eyes burned brighter than it had in years. For the first time, George seemed to stand taller, as if the weight of comparisons had finally lifted. And Fred, who had always been the center of attention, found that he didn’t mind stepping back.

One evening, as the sun painted the sky in fiery hues, Fred watched from the doorway as George sat beside you, your head resting gently on his shoulder. There was something in his twin’s expression. A peace Fred hadn’t seen before, as if George had finally found his place in the world.

“You make him happy,” Fred said later, when it was just the two of you in the kitchen. His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual bravado. “And that’s all that matters.”

You turned to him with your brow furrowed, searching his face for some trace of resentment or longing. But all you found was warmth, tinged with something unspoken.

“Fred,” you began, but he waved his hand with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “Really. George deserves this. He deserves you.”

And he meant it. Even if there was a small, quiet part of him that ached for something he couldn’t name, Fred would never let it show. For all his charm and bravado, his heart had always been his most closely guarded secret. And in that heart, George’s happiness mattered more than anything else.Still, as he watched you and George from the shadows, a quiet thought took root in his mind — a thought he would never voice aloud. If your opinion mattered so much to George, it mattered just as much to Fred. Perhaps even more.

tom riddle in a pea coat covered in blood. tom riddle standing in the snow covered in blood. tom riddle panting from exertion covered in blood. tom riddle kissing you like he needs you to breathe covered in blood. tom riddle who killed men for you covered in blood.

would u write riding best friend’s brother!sirius’s thighs??😳😳

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"Y'think he's jacking off to you in the shower?" Sirius asks, and you bite down on your tongue where you've buried your head in the juncture between his neck and his shoulder.

"Stop," You beg, hands fisted tightly in his worn out band t-shirt, some muggle noise you've heard coming from behind the typically-closed door of his room. You're balanced on his thigh as he reclines on his mattress, and he's delighting in watching you grind down on him while he's free to tease you.

"Oh, Y/N," Sirius imitates a voice that's very unflattering to his poor brother, and you feel white-hot guilt pierce your chest and warm the space between your legs. Regulus has... a crush on you. That's all it is: a puppy crush. He'll get over it, you know he will, once he wises up and gets over the inevitable 'I'm-in-love-with-my-best-friend' phase. Perhaps you'll wise up and get over the 'I'm-in-love-with-my-best-friend's-brother' phase someday, but for now you drag your cunt across Sirius's thigh, and your clit catches on the rough fabric of his jeans- another fashion choice his mother degrades him for.

"Stop- stop, please stop!" You beg, shame and guilt and lust roiling inside of you and blending to twist your stomach into knots, a fire burning just below it, "Sirius, don't make fun of him-! Please, he's- he's my friend."

"He's your best friend," Sirius snickers, "And you're in his brother's room, grinding all over my thigh. Do it again, darling, rub your pretty little pussy all over my lap. Get it nice and wet, sweetheart, leave a big wet stain- it's Reg's turn to do laundry."

Dragon King Bakugou speaks to your tummy the night he comes back from battle. He lies naked on the plush soft fur of your shared bed. His ear is pressed to the tight skin stretched over the swell of your belly.

He hums deep and growly in his chest, an ancient melody, one his father sung to him when he was young. The archaic psalm details a powerful king, one blessed by fire itself and the son he gave birth to.

Your husband places a red tinted hand over your belly and sings in high draconian the story of the Dragon King and the Morning Star.

His voice fills the intimate space of your bedroom, the fire seems to sway lazily with his voice. The shadows dance gracefully along the walls. As the tale ends, he kisses your belly and mutters something more familiar to your ears despite the ancient lost language.

My Son.

He lowers his voice as if telling him a secret.

“I poured all that is good in me into your mother’s womb to make you. You will burn bright like your parents before you. Fire, Sun, and Star.”

You roll over as gently as you can, even though you want to flop angrily against the mattress. The brief satisfaction you would get from the tantrum would be quickly overrun by guilt if you woke up the man sleeping soundly next to you.

Even that small movement is too much. Not even a moment passes before a muscular arm slips over your waist and a sleep slurred voice murmurs against your back, "Can't sleep?"

You mumble an apology, making to get up so that at least one of you can rest before your next patrol, but you're stopped by Shoto's arm tightening around you. You can't help but smile despite your frustration and fatigue; he's always clingy when he's sleep warm and soft around the edges.

He presses his face into the nape of your neck, and you feel his lips brush against the delicate skin there. It's instinctive, the way you relax into his hold, letting him press the lengths of your bodies together, not a millimetre of space between you as he moves to hook his chin over your shoulder, pressing a clumsy kiss to your cheek.

"Go back to sleep, Shoto."

"Rather stay awake with you." A sweet statement; one which makes your heart clench even as you hold back a giggle - he's barely conscious, his reassurance of you muscle memory at this point.

His hand moves to your hip, rubbing soft circles into the sliver of skin between your pyjama shorts and the t-shirt of his you stole back when you were both still students.

"I'm okay. Really. No nightmares, no injuries - just restless." You snuggle back into him, lacing your fingers through his and pulling his hand up from your hip so you can lay a kiss to his palm, "Go back to sleep."

You feel him nod against your neck and moments later, his breathing evens out again - your sweet boy really was holding out just for you. The thought warms your heart and suddenly, you don't mind so much that you can't sleep. Not if it means you get a little extra time to bask in his love.