#SAP MM US

[medicinemane]

Ok, the part of the endless stair that I actually designed seems to all be in other than the cave stuff at the very top cause that requires putting in the redstone, and also getting out onto the side of the mountain... neither of which I remotely feel like doing today cause my insomnia means I'm still awake and pretty tired

I'll have to go back over all the schematics once I've got everything in and confirm that I'm not missing a block here or there (I actually found a missing gilded blackstone in a totally other part of the base, so that just shows how easy it is to miss stuff), but then I'll be done

So not bad, having got like 25 layers at a shallow slope designed, and then putting more or less the whole thing in all in one go

Told you this was the easy part

[baurem]

cw: children, bakugo being a tired dad and then some wc: 604

with the soft patter of small feet and the door’s hinges quietly crying as it was pushed open, you feigned sleep. through ajar lids, in peeked your mixture of love, your husband and your own affections personified into something you both cradled and loved undoubtedly.

biting back a grin, you listened for the shuffling of your bedsheets as your daughter forcefully settled in between the spooning position that bakugo held you in. 

“papa..” your three year old called out in a whisper, her palm lightly tapped his cheek.  still in his drowsy in between, bakugo hummed roughly to let her know he was listening. 

“move over..” she whined as she pushed his shoulder to create more space for herself

“no, i was here first.” bakugo’s tongue languid with sleep but unmoving to your daughter’s attempts.

her little lips pursed like yours and her brows furrowed like his as she conceived a way to convince her hard-headed father to move. she turned her body to you, preparing to wake you up until a large hand interrupted her. 

“no, don’ wake y’er mama up.” his voice mellowed by fatherhood and patience. katsuki’s daughter turned with a pout at his whispered chiding, the same one he often wore against you.

  still, even while unconscious and in his grasp, he sought to preserve your sleep though there wasn’t a need for it (not that he should know). 

he lured her back with his hand splayed out on her tummy which earned yet another whine from her as she sat back into the tight space between you and your husband. 

she stared back with a disgruntled expression he knew all too well; cheeks puffed up, eyes narrowed that were still swollen with sleep, and a deep frown all at the lack of space her father provided. 

katsuki stared back, now more awake than before, but still just as adamant and stubborn as the red-eyed girl before him. 

“gotta use your manners if ya wanna be here.” 

after a beat of contemplation, your daughter spoke up, “papa..?”

“hm?” katsuki hummed, attentive.

“can you— can you pleeaase move over?” she asked, softer as to not disturb her mother. 

katsuki deemed it good enough since it was too early in the morning for a lesson. abiding by her plea, he shifted over which opened up the space for his little one. 

“mm.. thank you.” his daughter murmured as she squirmed into her place under the sheets and between her parents. 

katsuki hummed in a quiet response. his attention on the way her eyes fought sleep, nestled in the warmth and scent of her parents. once he’s sure she’s asleep, his attention shifts over to you.

“were you going to help at all?” he huffs. 

“i knew you had it.” you toss over to gaze to your family with a sapped grin at his discovery of your consciousness; your husband furrowed his brows at you like your little girl would when she didn’t get what she wanted and your daughter’s face squished on the pillow like his would whenever he came home from a long patrol.

katsuki saw you too in that moment, you think; with her hair disheveled in the mornings just like yours would be and the light snoring from her— the snoring you both vehemently denied though he insisted on it. 

he must’ve also been feeling that same swell in your chest too, the overflowing of love seeping out of your chest and into your throat. the kind of feeling that only mornings like these could bring out of you both; you, your husband, and the whole of you both combined snuggled in bed together.

“you always do.” 

[moechies]

rrr the yummiest threesome with phinks and shalnark <3 head so fuzzy about big cock phinks pulling your little white panties to the side for easy access to that plush little cunt, and having no remorse despite your little cries of how big he is and how it hurts. and shalnark <3 he’s so baby and yes .. he does feel bad for you in the slightest so he helps to satiate the pain by suckling at that pretty little clit and jerking himself off. he can’t have a pretty lady in even more stress than phinks has bestowed upon you …

ʚ♡ɞ

“stop squirmin’ around…” phinks grunts, readjusting your leg previously propped up onto his shoulder. he tugs at your hips, nudging himself impossibly deeper against your plush walls. “p—phinks!” you mewl, chewing down at your bottom lip to halt your cries. your nails drag down against his bicep, eliciting a hiss.

“fuck,” phinks sighs, peering down at the sight of your swollen cunt swallowing him whole. “t—this is the shit.” the brute grunts, thumbing at your folds and tugging the sticky fabric further to the side.

“no kidding.” the blonde man besides you grins, meeting your teary eyes with a soft hum. “so good for us, girl. mhm.” shalnark hums, pressing down harshly at your clit. “s—shal..” you drag out a whine, a subconscious beg for mercy. “s’—s’mean..”

“mm, it’ll be okay.” he assures with a hum and a soft peck to the tip of your nose. “doing so good for us already. hold out a little, yeah?” he presses a gentle kiss across your eyelids, blocking your view off from the perverted sight of his right hand reaching into his pants. your eyes flutter open anyway — especially when you hear a soft groan fall from the plush lips of the man.

“hnn !” you’re caught off guard by a harsh thrust to your cunt,

“little thing, you best not forget who’s fucking you here just ‘cause shal’s sweetmouthin’ you.”

“s—sorry!” you whine damn sweetly, making phinks scoff.

you’re damn pretty. phinks wouldn’t admit it out loud — shalnark would though — but your pretty little body, the back pliant against the snow sheets, the front against the two men, a gorgeous gleam of sweat painting your soft skin — you’re a perfect little thing. he’s sure shalnark’s thinking the same thing.

he continues his mean strokes to your cunt, humping sloppily against your plush thighs with load groans. you reciprocate with soft whines and hiccups, mewling loudly when you feel warm, sticky balls slap against the fat of your ass.

“fuck, wan’ taste.” shal groans from besides you — removing his thumb from your clit and wasting no time before replacing it with his plush lips. your back arches almost painfully, a shrill squeak elicited from your lips when he suckles meanly at the bundle of nerves, humming against the sensitive flesh. you don’t miss the way the mattress recoils gently from shalnark’s mean pumps to his heavy cock — lewd swipes across the dewy slit of his cock head to soothe the ache. “so shweet,” shalnark whines, “like sap or hh..honey..”

“y’rarely c—cuss, shal. pussy’s got ya in a chokehold?” phinks hisses, not missing the new angle he’s fucking you at after your sudden arch. with another brutal thrust, you feel phinks’ pudgy tip browse across your cervix, causing a loud yelp. “p—phinks h.. hurts!”

“my bad, pretty lady. i can’t say s’all my fault though, y’r asking for it with a damn pretty body like this.” phinks hums, hips stuttering and growing sloppy as his pace quickens. shal’s losing himself too — moaning endlessly around your abused clit — accidently swiping his tongue over where you too connect. “s—shal, damn pervert.” phinks growls, and shalnark only whines in response.

you feel your pussy flutter around the man, stomach aching and yearning for release. “p—phinks, shal.. gon’ cum, gon’ cum, please!” you hiccup, pretty manicure etched into his forearm. “phi—phinks, help me..”

“you got it pretty lady.” the man huffs, pressing his shaft wholly deep into you with no remorse. shal does his job effectively as well — softly nibbling at your clit and that does it.

your pussy clenches endlessly around phinks’ aching cock, slathering the shaft in warm white cream — the two returning the favor. “fuckin’ choking him,” phinks grunts as he cums his thick, viscous spent into your worn cunt, so much that it drools from the sides when he pulls away even in the slightest.

you whimper at the loss from inside, and even shalnark’s detachment from your clit. you turn your head slightly to meet the boy’s cerulean eyes, met with lidded eyes and blushed cheeks. you peer down and don’t miss the viscous nut that coats his hands and dirtied the cloth of his pants —

spiders spin webs after all. ♥︎

[ilydeku]

izuku loves to talk about you during interviews

- anything and every topic it will ALWAYS be about you

- the question won't even be remotely related to you and still izukus answer will revolve around "y/n, my wife!!" <3

- oh, the glint in his eyes, the peaking smile when he speaks about you, lover boyyy

- the media knows he LOVE LOVES you, they think it's funny for this big, confident, mighty hero to be reduced to sap when it comes to you

- it's like his whole personality is HIS WIFE

- the journalists lowkey get so SICK of him for this, they don't want to invite him anymore 😭

- but they kinda have to, due to to his status as #1

"Good evening everyone and welcome Hero Talk! Tonight we'll be staring someone you all know and love, single handedly the greatest hero of all time, Deku! Alright, Deku how are you tonight?"

"Feeling pretty good! This is one of my wife's favorite shows, so I'm even more grateful to be here. And how are you?"

"Oh, same old. Really, just living. Now, we wanted to ask you some fun questions. Let's start with this one. Why did you want to become a hero?"

"Wow, haha! That really brings be back to my youth. When I was kid, my biggest influence was All Might, and he miraculously became my mentor. He was a good hero, and a good man. I wanted to be just like him: fearless, persevering, saving people with I smile. I would beg my mom everyday to watch this video on the computer of him saving a bunch a people. I was really swayed by All Might. I wanted to become a hero to make an impact in the world. I wanted to save people with a smile too."

"That sounds really endearing, Deku. I remember All Might's reign. He wasn't number one on the top charts all those years for nothing. So, did you ever think you'd be standing as Japan's top hero?"

"Well, it was never really my goal to become number one. That was Kacchan's- Dynamight's. My dream was, like I said, to become a hero and save others. But I have to say, it really is a blessing. I'd like to thank my Mom, All Might, my friends, and especially my wife for who I've become. My Mom has really done a lot for me growing up: protecting, encourage, and just always caring for me. All Might has kinda been that father figure for me when my Dad was away. My friends have shown me what it's like to work together and really be part of a heart. And my wife? Haha...I can't thank her enough for all the times she's been right by my side, even before we were together. Nothing I can say or do will ever be enough to express how much she means to me."

"Mm. Quite the supportive group. Your wife sounds like quite the lady!"

"She is. She's wonderful."

"Moving on to the next question, do you use social media often?"

"Occasionally, yes?? My wife uses it regularly, posting about us when we go out and stuff. It's mostly for her family to see how she's doing. She handles most of my official accounts. She says it's to be more appealing to the public, and I guess to show that there's more to heroes on the inside?? I'm not really sure, but I trust her process. Although, I'd rather be appealing to her alone."

"The public will always interested in a hero's private life! Now, Deku, what is your ideal setting of relaxation?"

"My wife doesn't like places that are too crowded or noisy, so maybe a cozy day at the beach?- but early in the morning or in the evening when the crowds calm down. Maybe a movie theatre, but days after the movie is released so it's just us together. Actually, a lazy day at home together is great too! Cooking meals and watching a movie on the couch? Really, any place is relaxing if my wife is with me."

(am i questioning Deku's wife or Deku!?) "How scenic! Those sound very fitting for you!! How about any restaurants?"

"Not really. My wife really knows how to cook, it's amazing! I love her home-cooked meals, so there's no way I'd go out of my way to a restaurant. But if my wife is feeling it, I'll be sure to make reservations."

"(sigh)"

"(smiling warmly)"

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mrs. R

Part Two

Notes: You know what anon, great point. This is gonna be a two-parter. Not beta-read.

If you read this and you haven't seen The Pitt....Come on in, the water's fine.

Warnings: Angst; fluff; all that good stuff

Summary: For as amicable as the divorce had been, the two of you had problems. When Michael was stressed, he shut you out from the source of it, determined not to bring it home. But as hard as he tried, the strain and drain of his work hung on him. You'd wanted to be a safe space for him, but as the pressures of his job mounted, he'd never allowed you to be.

"Didn't think you'd be working today."

It's the most you've said beyond your answering the basics. He hasn't said anything beyond asking the routine questions. He'd had the good grace to school his expression when he'd asked about any medications (blood pressure, cholesterol, birth control), and you'd said no to all.

“We’re slammed. All hands on deck.”

“Yeah, I know.” You wince as he takes careful hold of your wrist, lowering himself onto the stool beside your hospital bed and getting a good look at the jagged cut stretching the length of your palm. 

"So you were replacing a lightbulb in the living room?"

"Uh-huh."

"What were you standing on?"

"...A book."

He shoots you a disbelieving look from beneath his lashes.

"...On top of another book."

A further tip of his brows, and you sigh, finally conceding, "On top of a cardboard box."

He looses a soft, almost grudging laugh as he looks back down at your hand.

"Surprised you didn't stand on the coffee table."

"It's rickety."

"But the carboard box-book combo was stable? What happened to the lightbulb?"

"I lost my balance, my grip tightened and uh...The lightbulb didn't like that."

"You hit your head on the way down?"

"No."

"Alright." He fishes into his pocket for a small flashlight, leaning in to get a closer look. You hold still as he diligently examines the wound.

"It broke pretty cleanly, I don't think there are any other bits in there. I was able to piece it back together—not to use, you know. Just to check."

He hums, giving a small nod. "Couple of stitches and then we'll get you on your way."

"Not gonna summon one of the ducklings for the demonstration?" You ask, unable to stand the relative quiet. "Dana says it's their first day."

"Hm? Oh," He shakes his head with a smile. "Far as I could tell, they were all occupied when I headed back here."

“How are they doing?”

“Well, we’ve got a fainter, a nicknamer, a high-fiver—Local anesthesia—little pinch, don’t look,” He warns, and you turn your head, wincing as the needle dips into your palm. “There we go…And uh, a kid who’s wearing a different pair of scrubs every time I see him.” 

“Fashion show?” 

“Unfortunate series of fluids.”

“Yikes.” 

“Mm.” 

You tentatively glance back down, watching him draw the needle through your palm.

“How are you doing besides that?” You press. 

“...You know.” 

But you don’t know. For as amicable as the divorce had been, the two of you had problems. When Michael was stressed, he shut you out from the source of it, determined not to bring it home. But as hard as he tried, the strain and drain of his work hung on him. You'd wanted to be a safe space for him, but as the pressures of his job mounted, he'd never allowed you to be.

You sit in quiet for a few moments, allowing him to zone in on his work as you let yourself just focus on him.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him in months, though not the first time you’ve spoken. You’ve exchanged the odd texts for holidays, birthdays. The last time you’d seen one another had been brief—hauling a box of things from your car to his car. It marked the official end to your divorce, your possessions and daily lives extricated entirely from one another (save for one of his hoodies, which you'd tucked into your closet and sworn up and down that you simply couldn't find).

But that hadn’t stopped the hurt or the ache of your loss. It hadn’t sapped the warmth, the comfort of the memories of your good days together. It hadn’t lessened what you knew about him, what you could tell from a look.  

"You need a haircut." You tease, tipping your head to get a better look at him. You just manage to see the way a smile tugs at his lips. You hesitate to add anything else, to keep him in a good mood, but you just can't help yourself.

"You're not sleeping," You accuse softly. Robby draws in a slow breath as he threads the needle through your skin again. 

"No," He admits. You wait for him to set the needle aside before you reach out, gently combing your fingers through his hair. His shoulders sag, head tipping into your hand as you gently run your nails down to the nape of his neck.

"What's goin' on, Mikey?" You murmur. His chin tips up to meet your eye, and your palm slides around to gently cup his cheek, thumb smoothing across his beard.   

“…You know what today is?” He asks.

“Adamson?”

“Yeah.”

“S’why I didn’t think you’d be in today.”

“So you stood on two books and a cardboard box to change a lightbulb today, just in case you needed to go to the ER so that you wouldn’t see me?”

“No. Purely coincidental. Besides,” You lean a little closer. “I like seeing you.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, brighter and wider than the last, and your stomach flutters with his admission:

“I like seeing you, too.”

“You two sure you’re divorced?”

The sound of Evans’ voice makes the two of you reel away from one another, your hand lifting from his cheek guiltily. She casts a mischievous smile between the two of you before nodding over her shoulder.

“We’ve got incoming—pileup on the I-79.”

“Be right there.”

Evans casts you one more cursory glance and adds, “See me before you leave, Mrs. R,” before turning, tugging the curtain closed behind her. You try to get a good look at Robby after she calls you that, but he’s up and moving before you can.

“Let’s get you bandaged up and on your way,” Robby pats your knee before stepping around the bed. “We’ll need you to come in for a wound check in a couple of days, make sure it’s coming along nicely.”

“…Can’t be a home visit?” You venture, glancing back toward him. You don’t trust yourself to meet his eye; you still can’t believe you asked it. But you haven’t gotten a good enough look at him, and you just want to know what’s going on—really going on.

You’re not sure it’ll work. He didn’t trust you with those feelings when you were his wife—why should he trust you with them now? 

“We need it on the record.”

It’s a diplomatic answer, and you’re certain that it’s all you’ll get. You nod a bit, watching as he neatly wraps the bandage. 

“You’ve still got tylenol extra strength in the house?” He asks. 

“Mhm.” 

“Take that as needed, up to—”

“1500 milligrams a day, I know.” 

“Still gotta say it.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“There.” 

Robby looks up at you, his hands still wrapped warmly around yours. He draws his lower lip into his mouth, and for a moment, you’re certain that he’s going to say something else—but the curtain is drawn back again.

“Hey Robby, there’s a—Oh. Shit."

You close your eyes, fighting back your own curse before you turn your head, shooting the doctor a tight smile.

“Hey, Frank.” 

“Hey, Mrs. R. Am I interrupting—”

“Nope! I'm all set here. And you guys have incoming, so I should skedaddle.”

Robby lets go of your hand, scooching the stool back as you slide off of the bed, standing. 

“Nice to see you.” 

“Yeah, Frank, you, too.” You pat his shoulder with your good hand before turning to face Robby again. “I’m gonna head out.” 

“Take it easy with the hand. Rest it.”

“I will.”

“I mean it.” 

“Robby—” 

“I know you. You’ll get all cocky with the local anesthetic in your system and you’ll be in agony when it wears off. You drive yourself here?”

“Uber.”

“Good.” 

“Mhm.” You turn to the sandwich cart, eyeing the labels before fishing one out. “I’ll see you around.”

“You’re taking that, really?” 

“It’s for Earl,” You insist, taking a couple more steps back. "Get some rest, Robby."

“Yeah.” 

You let yourself get one last long look at him before you turn away, striding determinedly toward the exit. You just manage to skirt by Evans, taking advantage of the fact that she’s deep in conversation with one of the orderlies. You give the attendants at the front desk a quick wave before you pass down the rows of chairs, holding the sandwich out to Earl. His face splits with a wide grin as he takes it. 

“You’re the best, Mrs. R.”

“Take care’a yourself, Earl.”

“Hey, you, too!” 

-- 

You make it all the way into the parking lot before your phone buzzes with Robby’s message:  I can change that lightbulb when my shift ends

Part Two

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; 

@missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ;  @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[swanimagines]

Hi! Could you write a short Eddie Munson x reader blurb where it's just morning cuddles and kisses in his bed 🥺 Please and thank you!

A/N: Makeout scenes always feel weird to write to me, but I did my best haha 😅

GOOD MORNING METALHEAD

When the first flickers of light penetrated through the windows of Eddie’s trailer, it illuminated your and Eddie’s sleeping bodies. Tangled in blankets and in each other’s bodies, his bed far too small for two people, but you still, somehow, had managed to fit.

You were the one stirring first, squinting to make sense of the alarm clock beside you and groaned — you should get up within fifteen minutes and leave for school. At least, if you wanted to take care of your hygiene before leaving.

You turned your head to look at your sleeping boyfriend and sighed, lifting yourself up to your forearms. You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead and stared at his face for a moment. You knew you should get up already, your teachers already weren’t thinking too fondly of you two as you had lost the track of time and (more or less accidentally) skipped classes because of making out somewhere.

But you just couldn’t help it, looking at Eddie’s face, laying there, in warmth… it just always pulled you towards staying with him and pushing your responsibilities back for him. Someone might say he’s bad company because of that, but it was really just teenage love.

“Mm, you’re staring at me,” he suddenly murmured, making you flinch slightly and sit up straighter.

“I didn’t know you’re awake.”

He opened his eyes a crack. “I had the most amazing dream,” he murmured, blinking at you lazily. “I was in my bed with a literal angel.”

You pouted. “Disappointed it’s just me?”

He snorted. “Why would I be disappointed? My dream turned out to be better than reality.”

You felt yourself blushing and bit your lower lip. “You’re such a sap.”

He shifted, raising himself up a little to lean his head on his hand, before he grinned. “Only for you, baby.”

You were quiet for a moment, just basking in the morning warmth, before you sighed. “We should really get up.”

He pouted. “Don’t ruin the mood.”

“I wouldn’t, unless we weren’t an inch away from failing in our classes again.”

He flopped back down onto his bed, pulling you against him. “Eh, we still have our whole lives ahead of us. Being left on class won’t hurt just yet.”

You didn’t argue with that, even though you knew that way of thinking was madness. But you couldn’t help but think how in his arms, your grades didn’t really matter.

You felt his lips trailing down your jaw, so you tilted your head to return the affection, kissing the corner of his mouth before he pressed his lips against yours. Soon, you had rolled over, your lips moving together and you were giggling every time you parted. You threw your other leg across his while his hand trailed up and down your bare back, slightly pulling you closer.

It was always as addicting, kissing with him. Time always seemed to fly by, which wasn’t always a good thing, but you at least pretended not to care.

It took a while, and your positions changed at least ten times before you finally parted to glance at the clock again.

The school was starting in twenty minutes, no chance of making it in time. You groaned and flopped back against the pillow. “Shit. We should really stop doing this.”

Eddie snorted again. “Kiss each other stupid each morning you’re over? Not a chance.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know I sound like I’m nagging, but it’s really messing with our school and possibly our future through that. Teachers aren’t going to take ‘our lips were glued together for an hour, sorry’ for an explanation.”

He hummed, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Let’s make up another explanation, an acceptable one, and make out for one hour more?”

You should have said no. Everything in you screamed a no. It wouldn’t be a good idea.

But, as expected, you were in his arms half an hour later too. Being late wasn’t that bad, at least if your stupid lovesick teenager brain was asked over your reasonable part of your brain…

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[peachhcs]

plz write a cute celebrini x fem reader 🙏🙏 ur writing is beyond amazing

oooh i've never written specifically for mack before so hopefully this isn't bad 😅

after mack’s face injury, his gf is quick to look after him once the game is done

masterlist

she waited impatiently near the doors of the locker room awaiting her boyfriend's arrival. y/n's mind couldn't stop replaying the horror on her features and everyone else's when they saw the blood trickle down macklin's face after a nasty high stick hit. she knew he was okay because he was right back on the ice once the bleeding stopped, but the image wouldn't shake the girl's brain.

lingering after the game felt so long this time around and y/n wondered if it was just because she was anxious about seeing her boyfriend and properly checking up on him. she swiped through twitter and instagram continuously while video replays of the rookie's hit filled her feeds. she just shut her phone off all together for now, not being able to watch the play anymore.

finally, the players began trickling out. y/n's head popped up, searching for the eyes of macklin in the crowd. she spotted him with will near the middle of the pack and he immediately found her gaze. will sensed that they probably wanted to talk, so he split off from the boy once they got closer, giving a small nod to y/n as he passed.

"hey," macklin began, but was caught off guard when y/n jumped into his arms.

"let me see it," she grabbed ahold of his chin, turning his face to the side to examine the new scar.

"it's really not that bad now. they cleared it up really good," the brunette tried reassuring his girlfriend knowing she probably had a hundred thoughts running through her.

"you scared the shit out of me when i saw all that blood. it looked a lot worse," y/n stepped back, arms crossing over her chest.

macklin frowned at the sudden distance between them, "i'm sorry, baby. i promise i'm fine. see?" he gave his best grin hoping to further prove how he was doing.

"well, if i see wilson, i'm gonna punch him myself," y/n huffed, looking around like she would catch the older player lingering somewhere.

macklin laughed, tugging y/n into his side and kissing the side of her head, "you're so cute when you're upset. i promise i'm fine though. i mean you saw me play afterwards."

"yeah you fucking power played. i guess that was your redemption," the two exchanged a laugh and macklin enjoyed finally pulling a smile from her.

"can i come back to your place tonight?" the boy wondered as they moved themselves closer to the exit.

"i thought that was a given already," y/n chuckled.

macklin went to tell will they were leaving before rushing out of the SAP center so he wouldn't have to do any press. most days he didn't mind, but tonight the boy was itching to get out of there and spend some much needed time with his girl. they hadn't seen each other since last weekend—school and hockey keeping them way too busy.

"just so you know, i am gonna baby you the whole night," y/n informed once they were securely in her car.

"mm, i can't wait. a face mask is just calling my name," the hockey player leaned back in the passenger seat, hand falling to the girl's lap as she pulled out of the parking lot.

luckily, there was no early morning practice tomorrow, so macklin was gonna use that to his full advantage and spend the night in y/n's dorm. the couple rode in comfortable silence into santa clara university, a convenient 7 minutes away from the arena so y/n never missed a home game.

she parked her car again and the couple hurried into her building. the few students wandering around the lobby caught sight of macklin's suit he put back on, a few of them recognizing him from as a sharks player and as y/n's boyfriend because he was over so much.

they lucked out with y/n's roommate hanging out with her own boyfriend tonight, so they had the whole dorm to themselves. macklin immediately thew his backpack onto the ground and shoved his suit jacket from his shoulders.

"gonna shower. i didn't really before we left. you're welcome to join me if you want," the brunette winked at the girl who flushed.

"wow, so classy of you. i did already shower this morning, so i'll have to pass this time," y/n laughed.

"damn, i thought you'd say yes. you sure you don't wanna shower again?" he winked again. y/n groaned, pushing her boyfriend to the bathroom.

"i'll be out here with your face mask."

the rookie accepted his lonely shower fate and disappeared into the bathroom. y/n took the opportunity to tidy up the room and get all the things she needed for their face masks.

20 minutes later, macklin came back out of the bathroom freshly showered and in more comfortable clothes. y/n hung up his suit jacket on the door of her closet, instructing him to do the same with the rest of the outfit so it wouldn't wrinkle.

the boy climbed into her bed a second later, positioning himself against her pillows, "i'm readyy," he sang.

"i've never known you to be so excited for a face mask," y/n grinned.

"it really makes my skin smooth, so i like it," the boy explained.

y/n handed mack her headband so his hair wouldn't be in his face or in the mask. he didn't hesitate to slip it over his head and expose his forehead. the girl giggled at the sight.

"are you laughing at my big forehead?" the boy raised his eyebrow, hands finding places on y/n's hips as she straddled his waist.

"maybe," she hummed, leaning forward to begin rubbing the cream on his skin.

mack admired her focused expression while just really taking the time to take in every part of her as she applied the mask. this was his favorite part of face masks because he could stare at her without shame and she hardly noticed because she was too focused on the mask.

"have i told you how beautiful you are?" the brunette wondered softly. he watched the way y/n's cheeks heated up into a deep blush.

"you have," she muttered.

"well, i'm gonna say it again. you're really beautiful," mack grinned.

"you're sappy tonight," y/n flushed.

"what? can i not say how beautiful my girlfriend is?"

"no, you can. thank you," she finished spreading the mask, leaning back to admire her work.

"how's it look?"

"great. i'lll let you know when five minutes are up," the girl set a timer on her phone and then mack grabbed the mask cream from her hands before she could set it back on the dresser.

she looked at her boyfriend quizzically.

"can i do yours?" he wondered with a soft expression.

y/n blushed again, "just don't get it in my hair."

"promise, i won't," macklin agreed and y/n let him have at it.

his touch was gentle as his fingers began rubbing around her skin. his lip poked out from his lips as he focused on doing it right. y/n loved how much he wanted to do it correctly for her sake and his expression really was just to die for.

"okay, did it," macklin leaned back to admire his work the same way y/n did. she loved the proud little smile on his lips, pulling her camera up to examine how well he did.

"wow, looks great, mack. your best one yet," y/n agreed.

"what can i say? practice makes perfect," the boy hummed, placing everything back onto her dresser.

"so how's your lip doing now?" y/n wondered as mack's hands wandered across the expanse of her hips and waist.

"i can't even feel it anymore, so good. i told you i'm fine," he eyed her.

"i know, just let me be a worry wart."

the sharks player smiled at her words knowing how much she liked to worry about things, especially the things that didn't need to be worried about. he reached up to quickly peck her lips, tryng to avoid getting face mask on one another.

"i love you," the brunette said.

y/n's smile grew, the whole i love you still new to them but heartwarming to hear, "i love you, too," she kissed him again and now they didn't care about getting face mask on one another.

[purplemoon7]

The Sound of You

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Kim Namjoon records the little pieces of you—the hums, the soft-spoken thoughts, the joy in your laugh—and turns them into a love song only he gets to keep. One night, he lets you hear it… then lays you down and makes you feel every note.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Namjoon x Black!Reader (Married AU)

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 3.5k

Warnings! FLUFF! soft and sensual intimacy, married domestic bliss, established relationship, Namjoon being hopelessly in love (as always), NSFW! SMUT (18+), soft dom!Namjoon, switch!reader, unprotected PIV (they're married, praise kink,

You don’t know it yet, but you’ve been the star of Namjoon’s favorite playlist for months.

It starts like any other Tuesday night—slippers too big for your feet, your curls wrapped up in that old satin scarf with the loose seam, and a mug of lukewarm ginger tea you keep reheating and forgetting. There’s jazz floating from the living room speaker, mingling with the scent of bergamot and the soft scratch of a pen as you journal in bed.

Namjoon is somewhere in the house, probably in his studio, probably lost in his head, probably thinking of you.

You hum to yourself as you write—an unconscious melody you don't think much about, a hybrid between something you heard at the shop today and your favorite song. Just something to fill the quiet.

But he’s listening.

Of course he is.

You don't notice the soft creak of the bedroom door or the way he hovers for a second before slipping inside. You don’t see the fond smile tugging at his lips or how his hand stays curled around something behind his back.

"Whatchu doin'?" he asks in a sing-song voice, all deep and casual, and it make your skin warm.

You glance up at him, grinning, replying in the same tone. “Writin'.”

“Mm.” He tilts his head, dark eyes playful. “What’s the topic tonight? The meaning of life? How to get out of going to the grocery store?”

You snort, and the smile he gives you in return is so soft, so sweet, dimples deepening as it widens.

He rounds the bed and plants a soft kiss on your temple. You close your eyes for a beat. That’s your favorite thing—him, his kisses on your skin.

He pulls back, but your eyes stay closed.

“You okay?” he asks after a beat, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. His voice is always gentle with you, but there’s something extra tender in it tonight.

“Mm,” you hum, leaning into his touch. “Just tired. Long day.” You open your eyes and offer him a smile. “How was your day?”

“Long.” You make a noise of sympathy, and he smiles, tucking a stray coil under your scarf. “But I like it when we’re tired together.”

You giggle, and it’s the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. That’s a lie, though; he thinks everything about you is beautiful.

“Okay, I think you’re getting sappy again,” you tease, but it comes out more affectionate than you intended.

“Hey,” he says with mock offense. “I’m not sappy. I’m—”

“A sap,” you interrupt, and then you’re giggling again, and so is he, and you’re so caught up in it, you don’t notice the way his eyes flick to the recorder still clutched in his hand, a secret smile playing on his lips.

When you finish laughing, he kisses your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away. “You hungry?” he asks, eyes on you.

“Not really,” you say. “Why? Are you?” He shakes his head, but he looks at you like there’s more he wants to say, so you add, “I can make us something if you’re hungry.”

“No, I’m okay. I just wanted to make sure you ate.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “I ate,” you assure him.

He eyes you skeptically, and you roll your eyes again, laughing as you do. “I swear!” you say, holding your hands up. “Scout's honor.”

He narrows his eyes. “You were never a scout.”

You shrug. “Well, I would’ve been a great one.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I bet,” he says fondly, and then leans down and kisses the spot behind your ear, and your eyes flutter at the feeling.

Just then, you remember your cold cup of tea, already nudging your mug toward him. “Can you reheat this for me?” you ask, looking up at him with puppy-dog eyes.

He chuckles, takes the mug, and disappears down the hall giving you a glimpse of something silver in his hand. You don’t think twice about it.

Not until ten minutes later, when the tea is back in your hands and he’s crawling into bed beside you with something clutched in his palm—a small recorder, silver and square, like one of those journalist gadgets from old dramas.

“…What’s that?” you ask as he climbs the bed.

His smile is still sweet, but now it’s got something extra to it—something sly and mischievous. He settles next to you under the covers, but instead of pulling you into his arms like he usually does, he stays on his side, his head propped in his hand.

“What's what?” he asks innocently, but his eyes are twinkling in the light. You raise your brows, looking pointedly at the thing in his hand. He pretends to follow your gaze, his lips tugging up. “Oh,” he says, “this.”

You nod, and your brow furrows. “What is it?” you ask again.

He doesn’t say anything else. Just smiles. And presses play.

Your voice spills into the room. Soft and unfiltered. You’re humming—off-key, a little breathless, probably while folding laundry or talking to yourself in the kitchen. The next clip is you reading out loud from your favorite book—the same chapter you always go back to when your soul feels heavy.

You hadn’t even realized he’d been near you then. You sound different through the recorder—dreamy, soft around the edges, like your voice had melted into the walls.

You blink. “Namjoon…”

“Wait,” he whispers, nudging closer. Another clip plays. You’re laughing—full, unrestrained, that specific laugh you only let loose when you think no one’s watching. The one that sounds like you’re gasping for joy, because it caught you by surprise.

There are more clips of you—singing loud and off-key in the shower, humming in the car (that one road trip you wnt on together), muttering to yourself in another room.

Your voice fills the room, and Namjoon's eyes fill with something sweet as he watches the confusion melt into awe as he lets you in on the little project he's been working on since you became his wife.

His eyes find you again, and there’s a small, proud smile as the next clip plays. He must’ve recorded this one a few weeks ago, when he had to stay at the studio all night, and you missed him so bad, you took a cab to pick him up, and the two of you ended up "sleeping" in his office.

The moans and soft whines that come through the recording are unmistakably yours. Your eyes go wide, and your hand flies to your face in shock. “Namjoon—”

“I love how you sound when we’re like that,” he cuts in, his voice so gentle as you feel your cheeks heat up. He pulls your hand from your face and threads his fingers through yours. “All of it. The little sighs, the moans, the way you breathe my name.” His eyes are so sincere, you forget to be embarrassed. “It’s my favorite song in the world.”

You blink, and he pulls his thumb across your cheek, soft as a cloud. “And I love how soft you are when you’re happy. And the way your voice gets all low and raspy when you wake up. And—” he breaks off, shaking his head. He pulls you into his arms and buries his face in your neck. “Your voice,” he breathes against your skin, “it’s my peace. It’s what I want to hear before I fall asleep. The last thing I want to hear every night. I used to fall asleep with a podcast or white noise. Now I use you.” He smiles. “You’re my favorite sound in the world.” He kisses your neck, your collarbone, then looks up at you again. “And I wanted to make you something to remind you of that.” His smile softens. “So I made you a playlist. Of all the different ways you sound. So you can hear it too.”

You’re silent, trying to process. It’s sweet, the most romantic thing he’s ever done for you, and you can’t believe he’s been putting this together without your knowing for all these months.

You blink rapidly, trying not to cry as your heart melts in your chest. “That sounds… very creepy and very romantic.”

Namjoon laughs, the kind that rumbles in his chest and makes your knees weak. “I asked myself if it was creepy. Then I realized I’m in love with you and we're married, so it cancels out.”

You shake your head, grinning even as your heart hammers. “You’re insane.”

“I know,” he whispers, reaching out to brush your coils off your forehead. “Insane for you.” You roll your eyes at the cheesiness, but your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.

You can’t remember the last time someone listened to you just to hear you. Just to be near the parts of you that weren’t polished or filtered or pretty.

You feel a lump form in your throat, but you swallow it back down and say, “Thank you.” And then, softer, “I love it.”

Then you surge forward and kiss him. There’s no warning. No hesitation. Just your mouth on his, urgent and tender all at once, like your heart couldn’t contain it any longer.

He catches you, arms sliding around your waist, pulling you fully into his lap. You melt against him, your arms around his shoulders, and you feel his smile against your mouth.

He breaks away, his nose brushing yours, his eyes searching. “I love you,” he murmurs, and a heat blooms in your stomach at the intensity with which he says it. Like he'll die if he doesn't lay the words at your feet. His own sweet death.

“I love you too,” you say, and you sound breathless, but you can’t help it. This kind of devotion has a way of taking you apart so he can put you back together.

You lean forward and capture his lips again, and this time it’s slower, deeper.

His large hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks in that reverent way of his. When his tongue slides against yours, it’s not rushed or sloppy. It’s intimate. You want to crawl inside him and never leave.

He moans into your mouth, low and warm. His teeth drag along your bottom lip, gentle but teasing, and then he sucks it into his mouth, savoring it. Hungry but patient.

And then he’s leaning back, pulling you with him until you're sprawled over his chest, your hands planted on either side of his head, your knees framing his waist.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, one hand sliding up under the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—and tracing slow, lazy circles into the skin of your back. His other hand settles on your thigh, warm and steady, stroking slowly up and down, squeezing gently on the softness there.

“I wanna ride you,” you pant against his mouth, breath hot between you.

Namjoon moans—actually moans—at your words, his hand on your thigh giving a hard squeeze before he moves it to your hips. His fingers tighten at the small of your back, breath hitching.

“Yeah,” he says, voice already wrecked. “Yeah, baby, whatever you want.”

He’s already pushing your shorts down your hips with shaking hands, his lips ghosting over your collarbone, your shoulder, any part of you he can reach while you shift to help him.

The fabric pools at your knees before you kick them off, and then his hands slide over the curve of your ass, giving it a soft squeeze that makes you shiver. Your thighs go up in flames when he slides a hand between them, dragging his knuckles against the wet lace there.

You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Already wet for me?” he asks, a smirk in his voice as he mouths down your neck.

You nod, your breath coming out in short little bursts. “Mm.”

“Mm,” he echoes, and you can feel him smile against your skin. His middle finger strokes you through your panties, teasing your clit, your thighs shaking as he drags it up and down your slit. The wet fabric rasps against the sensitive skin, and you hiss, your head dropping forward to rest on his shoulder.

He sucks in a sharp breath at your reaction, his body tensing under you. “You're sensitive,” he mumbles against your skin.

“Mhm,” you agree, grinding your hips down, chasing that pressure.

“You ready for me?” he rasps, and you nod, pushing up onto your elbows so he can pull his sweats down and kick them off. He never takes his eyes off you as he does it, not wanting to miss even a second of you.

You drink him in. The thick muscle of his chest and shoulders, the sharp line of his collarbone, the veins that run down his arms.

You sit back, reaching down to stroke him. He sucks in a breath, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of him as your fingers slide down his length. You watch as his stomach flexes, his hips jerking, his throat bobbing.

“Fuck, baby," he breathes, and you look up at him in time to see his eyes flutter closed, his head dropping back. "You're so good to me,” He’s a sight—eyes glossy and heavy-lidded, lips swollen from your kisses, his cheeks flushed the prettiest pink. You want to fuck him until he’s incoherent. Until he can't think of anything but you.

You shift, straddling one of his thighs, the rough muscle of it rubbing against your clit through your underwear. His hips kick up, his cock brushing against you, and you gasp at the contact. You want him inside you. So. Fucking. Bad.

You roll your hips, grinding on his thigh as he pants beneath you. He watches, fascinated, as you ride his leg, your fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt to bring it up and over your head, tossing it across the room.

He doesn't hesitate before palming one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You whimper, and his eyes go dark at the sound. “God, you're beautiful,” he groans, and then he's sitting up, pulling your breast into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue makes you cry out, your fingers threading over his buzzcut as he laves at your skin with soft, tender strokes.

When he pulls away, he's smirking that boyish smirk you love so much, before he kisses the valley between your breasts. You sigh, your body melting under the sweet, steady heat of his hands, his mouth.

"I want it," you moan, rolling your hips.

"Yeah?" he murmurs against your chest, his fingers moving to tug your panties to the side, dragging his finger through your slit. "Want my cock, baby?"

You nod, biting your lip.

And he's never denied you anything, not since the moment he met you.

He grips himself at the base, a shiver rolling through him at his own touch, and then he’s stroking your entrance with his tip, teasing.

“Namjoon…” you whine, trying to move down onto him, but he’s got you firmly in his hands. He laughs, the sound raspy and delicious and going straight to your core.

“Patience,” he murmurs, his tongue sweeping out to wet his lips. “Gonna give it to you, baby. I promise.”

You groan in frustration, but the sound quickly turns to one of relief as he notches himself against you and slowly, slowly presses forward. His eyes close, his mouth dropping open on a moan, and you feel him shudder under you, his grip tightening on your hips as you sink down, down, down.

You moan too, the fullness making your head drop back, your walls fluttering around him, adjusting. You feel yourself stretch to accommodate him, feel every inch as he fills you, slow and deep, until your hips are flush against his.

It’s so much. So full.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice high and shaky. Your thighs tremble around him, and Namjoon’s hands find your hips, gripping you steady, his breath ragged as his wedding band indents into your skin, leaving a mark.

His eyes are fixed on you, glassy and wide, “Shit, baby,” he huffs out. “So fucking wet.”

“Mm… yeah,” you moan. “Just for you.”

He nods, his eyes rolling a little, his jaw slack as he looks up at you from under his lashes.

You start to roll your hips in a slow, experimental circle, a breathy moan slipping from your lips at the delicious friction it creates. You do it again, his hands on your hips to guide you, until you find a rhythm that has you both trembling.

“Shit—” he gasps, trying not to grip too hard, using every ounce of control he has.“You feel… fuck, baby, you feel so good.”

You lean forward again, bracing your hands on his chest. He’s so warm beneath you, the heat of his skin like a hearth, and the way he looks at you—wide-eyed, reverent, wrecked—has your pussy clenching around him. Warm, wet and so fucking tight.

He moans at the sensation, his hips kicking up, and you do it again. Another clench, another moan.

“Stop that,” he half-laughs, half-groans, his eyes glossy and heavy. He reaches up and cups your cheeks, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Or I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?” you ask, a smirk in your voice, your hips moving in a slow grind. He moans again, his eyes falling shut. “You like that?” you whisper, rolling your hips again, clenching again, milking another moan out of him.

You don't give him a chance to respond before you're picking up the pace, rolling your hips faster, the slick slide of your gummy walls wrapped around him, making you both moan. You're so wet, he can feel it dripping down to his balls as he bobs inside you, filling you completely.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he breathes. “So good for me, baby. So tight.” His hips are jerking up, matching your movements, his face flushed with pleasure.

You reach down and stroke your clit, moaning when the pleasure zings up your spine. It's so sensitive, it makes your thighs shake, but it feels so good, and you can't stop, rubbing slow circles as you move on him. Your walls start fluttering, the heat in your belly coiling tighter.

“You gonna come for me?” he groans.

You nod, the breathy whine you let out making his hips jerk, his own hands shaking as they find your hips again to move you faster on him.

“Good girl,” he pants, his eyes falling to where he's disappearing inside you. "Pussy's taking it so well. Come on, baby. Just like that.” He’s rambling now, his words messy and broken up by gasps. "Wanna feel you come on my cock."

You whimper, your eyes squeezing shut as your head drops forward. You focus on your clit, rubbing it faster, your hips rolling and rolling and rolling until you feel it, that sweet release, the heat flooding your belly, your thighs shaking, your pussy clenching, clenching, clench—

“Yes!,” you cry, your orgasm taking over, making your muscles go weak. He catches you, his arms banding around your back as he holds you to him, your forehead pressing to his shoulder. “Fuck,” you whine. “N-Namjoon…”

"I got you,” he breathes into your scarf, his voice wrecked and warm. “I got you, baby.” He takes over, his own orgasm building, the heat twisting up his spine, making his stomach muscles tighten.

He fucks up into you, fast and frantic, and when he comes, he makes the most beautiful sound—part cry, part moan, his eyes squeezing shut, his entire body shuddering under yours. You feel the hot rush of his release flooding your insides, whimpering at the warmth of it, the wetness.

He pants, his eyes opening, and when they meet yours, you see your future in them. Your forever. And then he’s leaning forward, pulling you to him for a kiss. You give him your mouth, your tongue sliding across his, soft and gentle and so in love.

When he pulls away from you, he doesn’t go far. Just enough to cup your cheek and smile. “Hi,” he whispers.

You smile, a little breathless. “Hi.”

He grins, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. "That was fun."

“Mmhmm.” You hum in agreement.

“We should do it again,” he adds, a sly grin on his face. You laugh, your eyes falling shut again, and you press a kiss to the base of his neck.

“You’re insatiable,” you mumble against his skin.

“Only for you,” he murmurs as always. You smile, kissing the spot again, and he hums, his hand moving to trace slow circles on the small of your back.

“I want to hear it again,” you whisper into his skin, your voice small and shy. He knows exactly what you mean.

"Yeah?" he asks, already leaning over to pick the recorder up from the bedside table where he left it. You nod, and he pulls you closer, your chest on his.

He presses play, and your voice fills the room, soft and sweet. His arms tighten around you, his nose buried in your curls, your scent filling his head. And you let yourself drift off to the sound of your voice.

His favorite sound in the world.

- Moon ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

[sat0sugu-angst]

Well, We've Got the Rest of the Night

A continuation of "I Only Need 10 Minutes" where you come home drunk an horny

wc: 2.8k

cw: super sappy bc im a sap, fingering (f. receiving), oral (m. receiving), unprotected p in v, squirting, little bit of aftercare, subby reader, lemme know if i missed something

a/n: i'm back from the dead! this has been sitting in the drafts for agesss i've just been drabbling here and there and got it to a point where i thought yall might enjoy it too

rbs/comments let me know you liked my work! don't be shy 💓

MDNI

---------------------------------------

You wave to your girlfriends from the front door as the Uber drives off. After fumbling with the keys a little, you eventually get the door open and stumble inside.

"Babe?!" You call out from the entryway. Even though you can't see him from the door, the light from the living room gives him away.

"Yeah, kitchen." He calls back. You work your way out of your shoes as you head deeper into the apartment, nearly falling, but you catch yourself on the corner of the counter.

Katsuki is sitting at the kitchen table, paperwork laid out before him, and his glasses hanging on the end of his nose. When he sees you, the tension in his face melts, and though he's not quite smiling at you, you can't help but grin. The way he looks at you, with a softened brow and an ease only you could give him, made you feel like you could fly. You come up behind him, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, nuzzling into his neck.

At first, you just hug him, making a contented noise in the back of your throat in greeting. "You have fun tonight?" His voice was level, but you could feel his heart racing under your fingertips.

You smile a little while you nod into his neck, but then you're kissing the skin there. Your fingers glide slowly up and down his chest, lips brushing over his throat as you say, "I've been thinking about your mouth all night."

"Mm," his voice rumbles under your fingers. "Barely touched you'n you can't think about anything else, huh?" His hand rests lightly on your arm, and you feel his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. He was surprisingly affectionate, you realized early in the relationship. He never shied away from your touch, however casual or intimate, and returned your affection in kind. Katsuki may not always be able to proclaim his love in words, but the way he held you left no doubts about how he felt about you.

You shake your head in answer to his question, pulling back slowly so that your fingers brushed up his arms and shoulders. You use those same shoulders, and the chair next to him, to push yourself up onto the table, too drunk to care about sitting on his paperwork.

He was smiling at you with perfect ease, his lips quirking up as you made yourself comfortable. You lean in and clumsily press a quick kiss to his lips, barely steadying yourself with your hands on his chest. When you pull away, he's still smiling, a smug tinge in the way his eyes challenged you. You can't help but feel shy under the weight of his gaze. "Always think about how you touch me," you whisper.

There was something fond about the way he regarded you, his gaze thorough as it trailed down your body. He grabbed one of your ankles, the one closest to him, and moved your leg so that you had one on either side of him. Then his arms wrapped around your hips, grabbing at your ass just enough that he could pull you toward him, and you were right at the table's edge. Your dress bunched up at your hips, and your underwear was clearly visible.

He leaned in for another kiss, hands on either knee. He holds them wider so that he can lean right against you, and then they slide up through the insides of your thighs before settling back on your hips. His lips move from your mouth toward your jaw. "And how could I think about anything other than the way you look when I touch you? Fuck, look at you. Could barely get any work done knowing you were somewhere lookin’ so good."

His mouth moves toward your ear, stopping right beneath, breath teasing the sensitive skin there. "So fucking sexy. You dance a lot tonight?" You can't help the way you gasp as he runs his tongue up your neck, slowly and deliberately, tickling you in the best way. "You taste so fucking good." You realize he's probably tasting dried sweat from dancing all night, and feel heat between your legs.

His teeth lightly graze the skin where he'd been kissing you, and you let out a small cry in pleasure. One hand is on his chest, gripping the front of his shirt without a care about stretching the material. The other goes around his neck, running your fingers through his hair.

Kissing down your body, he unzips your dress and pulls the straps over your shoulders in a heap of fabric in your lap, leaving you in only your lacy pink bra. His hands tease your breasts, running over them briefly on their way down to your legs.

He's watching you as he lifts your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, and you bite your lip in anticipation. Before you see his hands, being blocked by the fabric of your dress, you feel his fingers glide along your slit over your underwear. "Fuck," you gasp, sensitive, hands resting on his jaw, near his chin, leaning in to press your lips to his as his fingers tease you.

You're whining for more before he eventually moves the fabric aside, and he bites your lip when he feels how wet you are. "God, you're fuckin' perfect, aren't you?" He breathes against you as he runs his thumb through your slick, spreading it up to rub right where you'd been craving him. You find yourself grinding into his hand, whimpering against his lips as you kissed him harder.

He knows your body so well by now, you barely have to give him direction; with each whimper and cry, he shifts just so until he has you shaking in his arms. You feel yourself nearing your climax, and Katsuki can feel it, too. Feel how you begin to flutter around his fingers. "Fuck, baby, are you coming right now? Go ahead and come on these fingers."

But you stopped, trying to control your muscles and keep yourself from cresting over. You pull away so you can look him in the face. "No, not yet. It's your turn. I don't wanna come again unless you're inside me."

His brow quirks up in confusion. "But I'm already inside you." As if to prove his point, he thrusts into you meanly. You gasp, but he holds eye contact with you. "You really don't wanna come?" He asks, and you shake your head. He begins pulling out of you, slowly, and you can't help the noises you make. He smiles up at you. "Don't feel like it with the way you're clenching around me for more." And he presses back into you.

You cry out, muffling your voice by tucking into the crook of his neck. You can't help your blush. "Katsuki," you whine, but it's no use, his fingers resume in that painfully delicious rhythm and his thumb rubs circles against your clit. He grabs you by the hair at the nape of your neck, gentle but unyielding as he pulls you back to look up at him.

There's something possessive in his eyes as he looks at you, but there's a softness, too. "Come on, baby, come on these fingers and I'll fuck you properly."

You clench involuntarily, wanting to look away from the weight of his gaze. Sensing you becoming self-conscious, he leans up to kiss your lips, his thumb applying just a little more pressure so he could press his tongue into your mouth when you gasp. He keeps you like that for a moment, sucking lightly on your lip before pulling back again. Most of your lipstick had smeared, ending up on his neck and mouth, but he was fascinated by the light swelling from the force of your kisses. "How you can still manage to feel embarrassed with me, I'll never understand." His voice is soft, even as he adds another finger, filling you more.

But how could someone get used to the intensity in his eyes? The way he looked at you, kissed you, touched you. It was greedy and deliberate, but oh, so gentle.

You look back from his eyes to his mouth, leaning in for more kisses. He reacts in kind, following the way your hips began to move against his fingers and slip his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't help whining in his mouth as his fingers worked you up again, and it was only a matter of time until you could feel your climax washing over you in waves. "Katsuki, uh—" you leaned into him, tightening your arms around him and pressing your forehead against his.

"Just like that," He says, peppering kisses all over your face, anywhere he could reach, as his fingers guided you through your orgasm. "Fuck, I wanted to take you to bed, but I'm gonna hafta fuck you on this table."

He pulled away only a little once you'd come down, not enough to pull himself out of your arms, but your legs dropped down to either side of his hips. Just enough for him to work his buckle undone.

"Wait," you said, grabbing his arms and pulling them from his pants. You got down from the table now, nearly stumbling from the drink and your fresh high, but steadied yourself with your hands on his waist. You pull him in for one slow kiss, grabbing his hands and forcing him to sit in the chair behind him before you were getting on your knees. You still held his hands in yours, and you guide his hand to your face.

"I wanna taste you now." You said, hoping the way your lips brushed against the tip of his finger enticed him. You could feel your arousal coating his fingers, and you pulled his finger into your mouth and sucked on it, tasting yourself.

Fuck, He thinks, because you were such a slutty girl when you were drunk. He was excited he could come along for the ride. "You're fucking perfect."

You sucked once more on his fingers before releasing it with a pop! and continued the work of getting his pants off.

He was already hard when you pulled down his underwear, tip damp with precum. And as well as he knew your body, you knew his. You knew exactly how he liked his cock to be sucked. With each grunt, you knew you were working him up and it was only a matter of time. He tossed his head back and you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him so that he had to look at you.

“Fuck,” He breathes, and you feel him twitch in your mouth. "I'm close."

"Mm," You hum, maintaining your pace.

"Fuck, wanna come inside you."

You have to pull off him for a moment to smile, grinning up at him sweetly. "You are inside me," you point out, echoing his words from earlier, before taking him back in your mouth.

He grins down at you, and he almost comes right there in your mouth, but Katsuki was used to getting exactly what he wanted. "Off, brat. Come sit on this cock."

Your body comes alive at the full force of his attitude, letting him pull you up. You’re trying to get your dress the rest of the way off, but with how it’s bunched, it won’t fit over your hips, and you quickly give up to work on your underwear, but Katsuki has other plans. He grabs a side with each hand and pulls, effortlessly ripping the lacy underwear in half and it falls away, leaving you bare to him.

“Katsuki!” You complain, but then his mouth is on yours, his hand in your hair, using his other hand to guide his cock as you took your place in his lap. As you lowered yourself on top of him, you pressed your lips to his for a kiss, whining into his mouth as his tip pushed into you.

You have a hard time holding yourself up in the kitchen chair, not quite enough room on either side of his legs for you to hold yourself up. You gasp as you fully settle in, how deep he presses inside you, you're certain you can feel him in your stomach. You whine, trying to use your arms to lift yourself up, but you feel his hands circle your waist, grabbing at your hips. "Don't gotta do a thing, baby." And then he thrusts. Hard.

The force of him pulling out and slamming back into you forces a breathy yell out of you. "Fuck, Katsuki!" You breathe, holding onto him for dear life.

"I know, baby," He says, as he sets a steady pace, the head of his dick bumping into that spot that has your whole body set alight. "You can take it. Just take this cock, baby." All you can do is hold onto him, trying to relax your muscles to let him in, but you feel him hit that spot over and over.

"Katsuki, please, I feel funny. Slow down or I'm gonna make a mess."

But there's no talking sense into Katsuki, not with the way you hug his dick so well. You wanna make a mess for him? He'd never turn down that kind of opportunity. "Just come, baby."

"You're not gonna wanna clean up tonight, we can't leave it til morning."

"Don't worry so much," He says, and punctuates his point by readjusting the angle of his hips so that he rocks against your g-spot again.

You only have time to let out a quiet, "fuck," before you both feel your release in his lap. You feel your muscles contract around his dick, and soon you feel the warmth of him coming inside. You're unable to stop the gentle moans falling from your mouth as he continues small thrusts as he rides out his orgasm, trying to muffle yourself in his neck.

He rubs your back gently as you both come down. For a moment, it's just the sound of you both breathing heavily against each other. You're tuckered out, exhaustion from the night hitting you as you relax in his arms.

Then he's up, holding you against him. You cry out when the shift of positions causes him to slip out of you, and you feel yourself clench around nothing. "Katsuki," you grumble, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Sorry, baby. Just wanna get you ready for bed before you pass out."

He carries you through the house and to your bathroom. You try to protest, but Katsuki is just as stubborn about cleanup as he is about how he fucks you, and after brushing your teeth and taking a shower together, he takes you back in his arms. Normally, you’d protest being carried around like a doll, but in the moment, you can't find it in you to complain, not when he smells like fresh soap and his skin is warm against yours.

When he sets you on the bed, you recline all the way back, closing your eyes. He rustles around the room, but when he goes quiet you open your eyes, finding him standing above you, now dressed, with a set of pajamas in hand. "C'mon, baby, time to put some clothes on."

You whine. "thought you liked me better without clothes," you tease, rolling over on your stomach and pretending to sleep.

You hear him scoff, and then the weight on the bed shifts as he presses in close to you. "Brat, you just wanna be babied, huh?"

You don't open your eyes, but you can't help the smile teasing your lips. “Well, I can do it myself, I just know how much you like to baby me.”

He grunts, but then you feel the bed shift, then the gentle pressure of his body laying atop yours as he holds himself up so his body rests against yours just so. “Been babyin’ you. C’mon ‘n be a good girl for me now.”

Your insides twist deliciously, and sigh dramatically. “Well I guess since you’ve been so nice,” you tease, and shift so you’re laying under him, facing up.

He snorts, pushing up to allow you to do the same. “Only for you.” You roll your eyes, but follow his lead and dress yourself. But mother hen was in a doting mood, and even after being teased, he helped you into your pajamas.

Once you were dressed, he stretches his arms over his head, yawning before crawling in beside you. He pulls you against him roughly, and you let him, tucking your head into his neck to inhale his fresh scent. “I did like that set, though.” you say, smiling against his neck.

He grunts. “Bra’s still intact.”

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight.”

He hugs you a bit tighter. “Night.”

---------------------------------------

a/n: tysm for reading!

taglist: @asmaechan @animexholic @justanothernpcartist @inumakicanrailme 

masterlist mha masterlist

[castielscaplan]

Right Here With You (tomas Vrbada)

Summary: Crashing in some safehouse after a mission with Tomas brought you more peace than you ever though.

WC: 612

Warnings: tomas being a sap, fluff, cuddly tomas

Read on ao3!

A/N: inspired by my Gdocs prompt list with over 5K prompts!

--

It had been a long day—another mission gone sideways, another scrape with death. You were both bruised, exhausted, but breathing. And that was enough.

Tomas was the first to collapse onto the couch in your shared safehouse, his usually graceful movements traded for sluggish limbs and heavy sighs. You followed soon after, curling beside him without a word, the silence between you familiar and safe.

He had one arm draped over his eyes, the other stretched across the back of the couch. You tucked yourself into his side, careful of the cut on his ribs but refusing to leave any space between you. Slowly, his arm dropped to wrap around your shoulder instead, tugging you in closer.

You didn’t even realize you’d started to doze until you felt him shift, his breath brushing against the top of your head.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. “I’m staying right here forever.”

You smiled against his chest, heart aching in the best way. “Forever, huh?”

He gave a quiet hum. “Mm-hmm. Warmth is rare. Peace is rare. But you… you make me feel both.”

You tilted your head up just enough to see him blink down at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. The killer, the shadow, the revenant—all gone. Just Tomas.

“You’re not just staying because I’m warm,” you teased gently.

“No,” he admitted. “I’m staying because this… you… feel like something I never thought I’d have again.”

He closed his eyes again, arms tightening around you just slightly. “So yeah. Right here. Forever.”

And you didn’t need to say a word after that. You just stayed—his warmth, his peace, his forever.

--

The morning sun bled through the blinds, pale and soft. It draped across Tomas’s back, outlining the quiet strength of his frame as he stood by the small kitchen counter, making tea like it was a mission he had to survive.

You padded in barefoot, blanket still around your shoulders, hair a mess. He turned when he heard you, gaze flickering over you quickly—lingering, then retreating, like always.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, voice low but casual.

You raised an eyebrow, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “Mm, yeah. Especially once you wrapped around me like a possessive space heater.”

He froze for just a second, fingers tightening on the kettle.

“I don’t recall doing that.”

“Oh?” You leaned forward, a slow smirk spreading across your face. “You also don’t recall whispering, ‘You’re warm. I’m staying right here forever.’?”

His shoulders stiffened. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

You snorted. “Tomas. Come on. I have witness-level memory of you being a total sap.”

He sighed, finally turning to face you—cheeks just the faintest shade warmer than usual.

“I was tired.”

“Mhm. And cuddly.”

“…It was cold.”

You smiled into your tea as he handed you a mug, avoiding your eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend it didn’t mean anything,” you said softly, catching him off guard. “Because it did. To me, at least.”

He looked at you then—really looked. And something shifted in his expression, something that softened the walls he always kept up.

“I meant it,” he said quietly. “Every word. I just… I’m not used to this. To you. To being held without fearing I’ll vanish when I wake up.”

You set your mug down, stepping closer, slipping your arms around his waist.

“Then let’s make a deal,” you whispered. “You don’t vanish. And I won’t let go.”

He exhaled like you’d pulled the breath right from his lungs, arms slowly wrapping around you in return.

“…You’re warm,” he murmured again, barely audible.

You smiled against his chest.

“Forever, Tomas.”

[moonstruckme]

could I request tasm Peter Parker x reader where they go christmas tree shopping?

happy holidays Mae, lysm!! <333

Hello sorry this is after Christmas I wrote it before but just got to it in the editing cycle! Thanks for requesting :)

cw: some mild tree disparagement (we love them all truly)

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 738 words

You’ve taken off your glove to hold Peter’s hand properly, because you’re a lovesick sap. In turn, he’s taken both of your joined hands and stowed them in his large jacket pocket, making you look like you’re trailing along beside him through rows of trees on some sort of leash. 

“I’ve never had a tree with flocking before.” You tilt your head at a behemoth spruce that is, miraculously, purple. “It’s sort of fun. Like bringing winter inside.” 

“Haven’t you had enough of winter inside?” Peter teases. The heat in your apartment was broken from the first chill in late October until the very beginning of December, your landlord allegedly unable to fix it until you threatened to withhold rent. You and Peter had lived in layers and had coffee or hot cocoa with every meal. 

You shrug. “I didn’t mind it.” 

“That’s because I let you put your icicle feet between my legs at night, ingrate.” 

You squeeze his fingers, smiling up at him sweetly. “Love you.” 

“I think I’ve proven I love you more.” Peter kisses you before you can argue, grinning when you glare playfully. “Anyway, I don’t know how much flocking would make it up to our place. With all the corners and doorways…” He bats at one branch. Half the faux powder falls to the ground, and another quarter sticks to Peter’s glove. He wipes it on his jeans, streaking purple across the denim. “We’d lose a lot of it on the stairs.” 

You hum. “I see your point. What kind do you want?” 

Peter shrugs, surveying the selection around you. “I’m not picky. Something that smells like Christmas, you know?”

“Mm, yeah.” You close your eyes and breathe in, relishing the fresh aroma of the trees in the market. “That’s important.” 

When you open your eyes, Peter is watching you with a funny smile. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” He bites the inside of his lip. 

You scoff even as your face heats, elbowing him lightly. “Sap.” 

“I know you are, but what am I?” 

“Ugh, you suck.” You make a face at him. But Peter’s still grinning at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread, and you need a distraction. “What about that one?” 

Peter follows your gaze, and a soft, pitying sound comes from his throat. “Awe, baby. I know you love an underdog, but…” 

“I do love an underdog.” You nod enthusiastically. “And it’s kind of cute, right? It’ll be like our own little Charlie Brown tree.” 

“Do you…do you think it even has enough branches for our ornaments?” Peter stoops to look at your tree. He pulls your hands from his pocket, fingering one of its sparse nettles. 

“It’ll be enough,” you assure him. “If we don’t get it, who will? It’ll have to watch all its friends go to loving homes, and all the other trees will laugh and laugh, until it just dies here by itself. Peter.” You give him an imploring look. “Are you really going to let that happen?” 

He raises his eyebrows at you. “You make it sound like the last puppy at the shelter.” 

“Oh.” Your heart fractures a little at the thought. “That would be even worse!” 

“Okay, easy.” Peter drops your hand to wind an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He kisses your head placatingly. “There are no puppies here. I’ve got to hand it to you, sweetheart. I think you’ve picked the one tree that will actually fit in our living room.” 

You grin. “So we’re getting it?” 

“Well, duh. We can’t just leave it here to be ridiculed by all the other trees. Those assholes.” You laugh, and he gives you a playful squeeze before reaching for the tag. “Shit, though. Eighty bucks…” 

Your smile drops. “No way.” 

“It’s okay.” He looks around, spotting the vendor. “It’s fine, I know Marty. I’ll get him to give it to us for less.” 

“Ooh, you get to do your favorite thing,” you say. “Haggling.” 

“Don’t be coy.” Peter takes your chin in hand, planting one on your lips. “You know you’re my favorite thing.” 

But he does look awfully chipper as he strides over to Marty, hands in his pockets and posture affecting a casual indifference. 

“Hey, Mart, what’s up? You really charging eighty for that Charlie Brown tree over there? C’mon, man, we both know that thing’s gonna drop its leaves in two days. How about…” 

[lustjunkiie]

obsessed w bird hybrids rn!! please enjoy ❤︎

Johnny had heard of them all his life. Hybrids. Half-animal, half-humans, but he’d always just saved the thought for his silly little werewolf Halloween movies. He just couldn’t bring himself to actually believe that they were real. Until he was recruited into the SAS, and eventually TF141.

They were working on a mission that had ended up going beyond them. Beyond their human abilities. So, they started taking hybrid-only applicants to TF141.

Some were half-human, half-wolf. Some were half-human, half-lion. Some were half-human, half-reptile variants. But none of them were you.

You, a sweet little crow-hybrid. Expansive, dark brown wings with feathers that were soft to the touch, and luxurious in their feel sprouting from your back. Johnny was sure someone would’ve paid you millions to pluck feathers from your wings, with how gorgeous they looked.

But besides the wings, you were gorgeous. Pale skin with freckles littered everywhere, and soft, round eyes capable of stealing anyone’s heart. But especially Johnny’s — the ol’ sap. And your body, all soft edges and plush skin. Your nails were sharp, resembling talons, but you kept them tucked at your sides. Cute little thing.

And you were smart. Intelligent to a fucking T, and Johnny thought it was so hot.

TF141 did some trial training with you, and you passed like a champ. You were swift, fast-thinking on your feet, and just impressive.

You held an onslaught of talents that amazed Johnny. Night vision, mimicry, and even a fleeting use of psycho-metry that wowed them all. You read a memory from Kyle’s first birthday just from touching a scarf, for God’s sake!

Price noticed Johnny’s little crush right away. He kept Johnny on a short leash, praying and hoping that Johnny’s overbearing tendencies wouldn’t scare you away. But thankfully, they didn’t. You barely even noticed, you sweet bird.

Johnny spoke to you for the first time about a month after you were officially moved in, as overwhelming as it was for him to keep his distance and allow you time to adjust. He simply brushed your wing and apologized.

“Mm, sorry bonnie. Dinnae mean to brush ye wing,” he chuckled softly, pouring himself some coffee with shaky hands. He wasn’t even allowed to drink coffee anymore.

“Not a problem, Johnny. They’re a hazard sometimes.” You joked and smiled. He nodded and played it off, but his body was thrumming under the attention. He walked back to his room, half-chub at the thought of you just saying his name again.

He was hopelessly in love with you, birdy, and he was surprised that — for all the endless intelligence you had — you never caught his glances or picked up on all his touchiness.

Simple smoothing of your feathers, or grabbing your waist as he passed behind you, or reaching into the cabinet above you and invading your space. All of it. Little things. Little breadcrumbs he’d leave for his birdy.

[suhkusa]

EGOIST 16.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. fluff, slight feelings

A/N. cute or naw

-> MASTERLIST.

There’s one month left to prepare for the Championships, yet here you were snoozing on, pro-volleyball player, Atsumu Miya’s floor.

“Y/N,” he calls, “Wake up,”

It’s bright, when you wake up, the sun is already shining high in the sky.

“Holy shit, what time is it?”

He looks behind him then back down at you, “2:36,”

This causes you to jump up, “And you didn’t wake me up?”

“No,” he says, “I ordered food, hurry up before it gets cold,”

Your face scrunches up at his reply, “No Atsumu, I need to go home,” your body aches as you make your way onto your feet.

Atsumu looks back at you with a dead serious look before saying, “You owe me a date,” before stalking off back into the living room.

Fuck.

———

After locating the extra toothbrushes in Atsumu’s bathroom, you follow the smell of the food into his living room. You couldn’t really see it last night since it was so dark, but his house is nice. But that’s to be expected from someone who’s a pro-volleyball player.

“I just order pizza and wings, if that’s alright?”

You make a noise in confirmation before finding a seat next to him on the couch, you reach out to grab a slice of pizza.

“This is your idea of a date?” you ask, taking a bite of the pizza.

“Mm, well, yeah,” he finishes the bite in his mouth before continuing, “The other ones will be fancier and more planned out though, so don’t worry,”

“Other ones?” your eyebrow raises at his choice of words.

You can tell even Atsumu caught himself off guard, hesitating before attempting to correct himself, “I mean like, if we were to hangout again with the guys,”

Shaking your head, you let out a breathy laugh before continuing to finish the slice.

Atsumu grabs his remotes and throws on the latest Rom-Com that had come out. 

“Ew, you’re a sap,”

“I have feelings, too, you know?”

Yep.

“So, do you plan on renewing your contract with Jackals after this season?” you attempt to start another conversation.

“Work talk? Really? While you’re with me?”

“Yes, because there’s nothing else to talk about,”

“Let’s just watch the movie,” he turns his attention back to the TV, “but yes, I am,”

You nod your head at that before also turning your head to the TV. 

You never considered yourself much of a romantic, which makes a lot of sense since you couldn’t help but fall asleep through the movie. You felt a little bad though, especially when Atsumu shook you awake every now and then to see if you were paying attention. 

It was surprisingly not too bad to be around him. Especially when he wasn’t throwing insults or profanity at you. This was a side to Atsumu Miya you never expected to see. 

“You’re not, like, plotting against me, right?” you say through sleepy eyes.

��What, no? What do you even mean?” his eyes tear off the TV for a brief second.

“Like, you’re not treating me all good, claiming you like me, as some sick joke?”

You see his ears turn red, he probably forgot that he confessed while drunk.

“No,” he hesitated before keeping a straight face, “I like you, for real,”

“And I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I’ll always be sorry to you for what I put you through,”

His words reach the younger you that’s deep inside of you. The words that she never heard finally being spoken, and it’s somewhat healing.

“You never deserved that,” he looks forlorn as he stares at you, “And if I could take it all back, I would,”

“I-” you’re at a loss of words. 

Maybe it was time to forgive him. If what he was saying was true and genuine, then he really meant every word that came out of his mouth.

“It’s fine, Atsumu. We can just put it behind us. I appreciate your words,” 

It was a burden to carry this baggage all throughout your life. It finally felt like it was right to let it all go now. 

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him. 

Forgive but never forget.

———

During the next month leading up to Championships, Atsumu took every chance he would get to sweep you off your feet. 

It might’ve been working. 

He’d come over after practices (even uninvited) to help you organize and take your notes, or sometimes you’d go to his (against your will) to watch movies or play card games. Good morning and good night texts being sent daily. 

It’d never escalate. Never. If something was going to happen, it was going to take time and more inner healing. 

You hate to admit it, but there was a chance you were falling for Atsumu. You hated it so badly. You know you in the past would murder present you for even considering him. But you now feels like it’s not so bad being in his presence.

It’s sad though. Ever since you began talking to Atsumu, it felt like the distance between you and Kiyoomi increased. You still try to text him as much as you possibly can, but it’d take days before he would get back to you.

You suppose it happens.

Atsumu is relentless with his advances, though. Sometimes annoyingly so. Every time he shows up at your door with flowers, popping the question will you be my girlfriend? You’re quick to shut him down with a hard no.

If Atsumu Miya wants you he’s going to have to be patient. It’s the least he could do.

“I don’t know why you say no, we’ve known each other for so long, since high school,” he pouts, looking up at you as he relaxes his head in your lap.

“Did you forget you bullied me for half of that time?” you smile down at him.

His silence is a response in itself. “Thought so,”

———

“Alright guys,” Coach Foster starts, “tomorrow is the big day,”

“I just want to say you guys have been working hard all season, and I’m so proud to have seen all of you grow,”

Some of the guys fake aw at the coach’s words.

“We’ll leave at 6AM tomorrow for the big stage, be there or fend for yourselves,” with a clap of his hands, “Practice dismissed,”

Atsumu is quick to run over to you, using a strong arm to wrap around you and pull you close.

“You ready for tomorrow?”

“Agh, let me go Atsumu!”

He laughs before letting you go, watching as you pat yourself down.

You blow your hair out of your face before finally responding, “I think the real question is are you ready?” you smirk.

“Duh, when am I not?”

“Hah,” you pull your bag onto your shoulder, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Let me walk you out,” he runs to grab his stuff before catching back up to you. 

“So what do you say we hangout tonight?”

“I say no,” you grin, “I have to wake up early tomorrow and so do you,”

“No fun, Y/N,” he whines. 

“Whatever you can miss the bus on your own,” you say as you unlock your car.

He scoots you over to open your car door for you.  

“You’re disgusting,” you laugh, “thanks, though,”

“Of course, get home safely,”

“Mhm, goodnight, Atsumu,” 

He watches as you buckle your seatbelt, giving him a small wave before you switch the gear and pull away.

Atsumu was in deep.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[kechiwrites]

baby daddy ghost time skip fluff below the cut, because i think they deserve it. (sfw + gn)

The door swinging open, fast enough to slam against the hallway wall, is your heads up that your boyfriend is home. The sound of his boots being removed is your clue that he's coming into the room. A good sign. "How'd it go?" You call out, maintaining your concentration on sorting out your photos. There's some new ones, you and Simon, side by side, taken to replace the ones you'd torn, or burned. The sounds of him making tea distract you, drawing your eyes to him in your kitchen.

Simon shrugs, and pulls the cotton mask from his face.

"Money I spend on this could put Tommy through uni." He grouses, stretching his arms over his head. The move exposes the smallest slip of his abdomen, a peek at the blond hair of his happy trail. The sight makes you yearn to be sedated.

"Don't worry about Tommy's tuition, he'll survive." You murmur. "Don't have to tell me how it went. Just wanna know if you're good."

"Mm. 'm good. How was yours?" He pulls down the homemade, cracked glaze mug and you have to twist your lips to curb your smile.

Your therapy sessions don't usually overlap, but Dr. Muriadian had a scheduling conflict and then Tommy had a soccer game. Usually, you like to be there for each other, after a session. A hand to hold while the feeling of being held over a trash can and scraped out by a woman with a soft voice and a PhD passes.

"Good." You close your eyes and nod. Then you grimace and amend. "Weird."

Simon nods, turns to rummage through the fridge. You both pretend he's looking for something specific, and not just biding time til you ask him to sit with you.

It doesn't take long. These days, it never does.

"C'mere." You offer, and there's barely a second between Simon being across the room and Simon practically in your lap, crowded into your space, sapping your warmth.

"Proud of you." You mumble, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. They used to tremble, during this time, used to shake with the weight of sharing his thoughts, his nightmares. Now they're far more steady. Solid enough to carry some of the load. Strong enough to rid himself of it when it proves too much to bear.

"Proud of you." He repeats back.

And then you stay there, for a bit. In each other's arms, until Simon yawns against the crook of your neck, and you press at his chest. "Go nap. You got like…forty minutes." Tommy will want the two of you there, cheering, clapping (in Simon's case, intimidating the refs, jeering at the calls).

It's a testament to his tiredness that he obeys quickly, slinking off the couch and into the bedroom. You call after him; "No outside clothes on the bed!"

The creak of the boxspring is his exhausted defiance.

Guess you're changing the sheets tonight.

You trod over to the kitchen and drink his tea.

[tellyouily]

like the sap from a cedar

dnf - fluff - 1.3k words

read on ao3 <3

-

The tornado warning has passed but the rain is still coming down in buckets. Dream can hear it tapping on his bedroom window, mingling with the hushed sound of his shower running; George inside it.

Eight days have gone by since Dream called a plumber to come have a look at the shower in George’s bathroom. Since then, the plumber has been around twice with new parts without actually managing to fix the problem.

So either Dream is getting played into paying way more than he should, or this is the universe trying to tell him something. What, he’s not entirely sure, but he’ll happily take it as some kind of sign.

The bathroom door creaks softly as it opens out in the hall, and a moment later George appears in the doorway, fully dressed.

His hair looks damp and ruffled, probably by the towel in his hand that he proceeds to drop to the floor upon entering Dream’s room.

“Hey,” he says, heading for the bed and leaving his towel in a heap.

“Come here,” Dream replies, patting the narrow space beside him nearest the mattress-edge.

Ideally, he should be getting back to editing right about now. But on the other hand, it’s so nice to be in bed doing nothing in the middle of the day. And now that George is here, well…

George rounds the bed, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“What do you want?” He asks.

Dream holds out his hand to him. “For you to come here.”

Kneeling on the mattress, George narrows his eyes at him. “And do what exactly?”

Dream’s fingertips touch the hem of George’s white t-shirt, then dip under it to brush against his skin. 

“Be here with me,” he says, like a suggestion.

Naturally, the question was rhetorical anyway and George is already maneuvering himself to lie down flush against him.

He makes a fuss about it, as he does, but he eventually gets comfortable; his back mostly pressed against Dream’s chest, and Dream’s arms wound around his middle tight enough to keep him there.

Editing suddenly seems distant and intensely uninteresting.

George smells like a mix of Dream’s shampoo and conditioner and the vanilla of his expensive shower gel. His shoulder is soft and rounded and pressing lightly into Dream’s chin. His shirt smells clean, too; fresh out the laundry.

Dream’s gaze rests lazily on George’s phone screen, because of course he has already pulled out his phone. It’s almost impressive considering their position right now.

“Are you looking at my screen?”

George turns his head to the side momentarily as if to check.

“Mm.” Dream hums into his shoulder.

“Well, look at this.”

Inside his saved folder on TikTok, he taps on the most recent video and turns the volume up a couple notches. It’s a video of a plumber—yup, showing how to fix a broken shower pipe.

Dream smiles, which then quickly turns into a laugh.

“That’s so stupid.”

George lets it play, pressing the like button for good measure. “It’s not, he’s fixing it. Look.”

“If only he could come and do the same for yours,” Dream says, letting George’s warm shoulder press against his lips again.

George shuts his phone off and drops his arms, laying them so they align with Dream’s across his stomach. He sighs.

“I kind of hope it stays unfixed forever now. Yours is so much better.”

Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world , Dream muses. He just hums.

“What would you do if I just kept using yours even when mine’s good again. Would you try to stop me?”

Dream huffs at the mental image of himself blockading the door or something to keep George out.

“Probably not,” he replies truthfully.

“Good.”

“Would you still love me if I had a shitty shower?”

George turns his head to the side, closer to Dream.

“No,” he says, using his most British accent that will forever remind Dream of late night Discord calls. “That’s all you’re good for.”

Dream smiles and stays quiet, giving in to the urge to close his eyes.

Maybe he shouldn’t find the smell of his own products so comforting but he does. George wears it like a cologne; it sits on his skin and in his hair and seeps right into Dream’s brain, occupying his senses.

“I’m not going back to my own shower, Dream. I’m here to stay.”

Dream huffs. “Yeah, so you can use all my stuff. Like you’re already doing.”

“I’m not,” George is quick to rebut. “Not all your stuff. I’ve only used the soaps that are in there.”

Dream knows this—he can smell them. He wants to keep smelling them, for this to become a regular thing and not just a means to an end.

The cuddling thing became regular in the earliest stages of George living with him, and he has hope that this new thing can progress in the same way if they let it.

Alternatively, if the universe orders George's shower to stay broken.

“Oh, only the soaps,” Dream says, laughing. “What else is there to even use?”

George’s hands find his clasped together ones and gently, absentmindedly start to loosen them.

“I don’t know, your toothbrush? Your razor?”

Dream huffs incredulously. “You would not do that,” he says.

“Why not?” George asks, frowning.

“What do you mean why not ?” Dream laughs. Because it’s gross , George.”

Just then, George succeeds in unclasping Dream’s hands and freeing Dream’s arm from under him, much to Dream’s momentary disappointment.

He waits for George to shuffle around to lie flat on his mattress, propping Dream’s pillow up behind   like he owns it, and this whole bed. Dream wouldn’t want it any other way. He lifts himself up on his newly freed arm and rests his head in his palm.

From his new position, George catches Dream with his gaze immediately. His eyes are soft and brown and how they always are, and Dream stares right back, unabashedly.

“I guess it wouldn’t be that gross,” he moderates himself after a moment.

Now that he’s considering it, he supposes sharing a toothbrush with George wouldn’t kill him. It’s gross, but in a nice, kind of human way.

“Exactly,” George says. “Because I’m pristine. Nothing about me is gross.”

Dream smiles. That’s totally the reason he’d be okay with it.

He turns his head to glance at the digital clock on his bedside table, and feels the cool touch of George’s fingertips touching the exposed sliver of skin where his shirt has ridden up.

Dream turns to look at him again, only to find him frowning.

“Uhm, where do you think you’re going?” He asks.

“I’m leaving ‘cause you’re so gross,” Dream says, grinning.

He feels very open to being convinced to stay, and hopes that George will see the opportunity and take it.

George narrows his eyes at him. “We’re spending quality time together for once and you’re leaving. Really.”

“ For once ,” Dream echoes with a laugh. “Don't pretend like you’re not just here to be on your dumb phone.”

“Yeah, with you. Being on my phone is a two person activity, Dream.”

George has bunched up part of Dream’s shirt in his fingers to keep him from leaving, in a way so tight that it will probably leave the fabric all wrinkled and stretched out.

Dream looks between George’s eyes for a moment, two, and then he scoots down in bed, placing his head on the same pillow as George with a sigh. He guesses he can spare the time to stay a little longer.

Smugness practically oozes from George as he pulls Dream’s arm back across his stomach and reaches for his phone again.

“You’re so easy,” he says, a private smile on his lips.

He opens TikTok, which takes him straight to that stupid plumber video from earlier before refreshing to something new.

“You’re easier,” Dream mumbles into George’s comfortable shoulder.

Outside the window, the rain has tapered out into a light drizzle and the sun is starting to break through the clouds, slowly lightening the room.

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Arthropoda - Diplopoda

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Animals in the class Diplopoda are commonly called “Millipedes.” They comprise the orders Glomeridesmida (“Slug Millipedes”), Glomerida (“Northern Pill Millipedes”), Sphaerotheriida (“Giant Pill Millipedes”), Platydesmida (“Flat Millipedes”), Polyzoniida (“Camphor Millipedes”), Siphonocryptida, Siphonophorida, Julida, Spirobolida, Spirostreptida, Callipodida, Chordeumatida (“Sausage Millipedes”), Stemmiulida, Siphoniulida, Polydesmida, and Polyxenida (“Bristly Millipedes”).

Millipedes are detritivores, eating decaying leaves and other dead plant matter, making them important for cycling soil. Some species eat fungi or drink plant sap. Most species protect themselves with various chemical secretions, but they will also coil into a ball to protect their legs and vital areas when threatened. Polyxenids lack poison and a hard exoskeleton, so their defense involves barbed hairs that detach and stick to the mouths of predators.

Millipede heads are generally round and flattened, consisting of a pair of mandibles, a plate-like “jaw lip” called a gnathochilarium, a pair of small sensory antennae, and simple compound eyes. Some species have secondarily lost these eyes. Many species also have a pair of sensory organs called the Tömösváry organs at the bases of their antennae, which may measure humidity and/or light levels. Millipede bodies may be flattened or cylindrical, and they can be anywhere from 2 mm (1⁄16 in) to 35 cm (14 in) in length, and have from 11 to over 300 body segments. The segment behind their head is called a collum and is legless. The second, third, and fourth body segments are called haplosegments, and each have a single pair of legs on their underside. The remaining segments are called diplosegments and have two pairs of legs each. In some millipedes, the last few segments may be legless. The final segment is called the telson. It is always legless, and contains the anus. Some millipedes (those in the superorder Nematophora) have spinnerets as well, creating silk chambers in which to molt or lay their eggs. Though their name means “thousand feet”, only one species of centipede, Eumillipes persephone, has over 1,000 feet.

Millipede reproductive behavior is diverse. Bristle millipedes reproduce similarly to centipedes: depositing spermatophores onto webs they secrete, which are later picked up by females. Other millipedes have direct reproduction, meeting up to mate. Courtship may involve tapping antennae, the male running along the back of the female, offering gifts of edible glandular secretions, or even “chirping”. Males have one or two pairs of modified legs called gonopods which are used to transfer sperm to the female during copulation. A few species are parthenogenetic, having few, if any, males. Most species simply deposit their eggs on the ground, but some construct nests of dried feces or silk. In most species, the female abandons the eggs after they are laid, but some species do provide parental care for their eggs and young. Young millipedes usually hatch after a few weeks, bearing typically only three pairs of legs. Their development is anamorphic: adding on segments and legs with each moult. Some species can live up to 10 years.

Millipedes first appeared in the Silurian period. The most famous extinct millipedes, the genus Arthropleura of the Carboniferous, grew up to 2.5 metres (8 ft 2 in) long, making them some of the largest arthropods ever known.

Propaganda under the cut:

What is the difference between centipedes and millipedes? Centipedes are if a tiger was small, long, and venomous. Millipedes are if a cow was small, long, and poisonous. Hope that helps.

Mentioned above, Eumillipes persephone can have over 1,300 legs!

Millipedes have a vast array of chemical poisons to ward off predators, varying between genera. Polydesmid Millipedes produce Hydrogen cyanide. Motyxia species not only produce cyanide, but are also bioluminescent.

Despite their chemical defenses, many species prey on millipedes, some even benefiting from the poisons. Some poison dart frogs eat millipedes, converting their toxins into their own poison. Some lemurs use millipedes to self-medicate against parasites, or just to get high!

Many species have formed symbiotic relationships with millipedes. Some millipedes live only in ant colonies, while many mites use millipedes for transport to new areas. The Moss Millipede (Psammodesmus bryophorus) grows multiple species of moss on its back for camouflage, subsequently aiding the moss in dispersal.