#what is a pipette

[traumainpyjamas]

TEN \\ the mysterious researcher - 'Nightwalker' MV

[khazad]

pov you have found some kind of weird bug

[spaceoutdreamer]

Lowest moment of today is that I’m watching a show where they use pipettes and I went

Bro I USE those !!!!

[navramanan]

Guess it will take a bit until my sleep schedule is fixed 😀

[master-gatherer]

Guess I have pet mice now

[poobit]

whenever those polls ask if you wanna be a werewolf or you want wings lets assume they are feather wings) im always stopping to thing like. yes sure that could be cool, but im gonna go outside and catch FLEAS AND TICKS AND HEAT MANAGEMENT ITS GONNA BE ANNOYING AND HORRIBLE and thats why i always choose something else

[chaotic-neutral-knitter]

when will I learn that I cannot consume my regular quantities of caffeine while taking a stimulant medication for adhd 😭

[hazyla]

Guys writing has never been more fun

I am literally just racking up of pages of writing and I went through one cartridge a day I fear if I continue at this pace I’ll give in to my dark desires and buy that purple ink ohhh god I’ll never type out an idea again

[toastsnaffler]

this assay is so fucking fake......

[macbethz]

“Because it’s not love but it’s still a feeling” is such a banger title/lyric I can’t believe it’s a fucking pipettes song that sounds like a pipettes song and not like a really shittily produced midwest emo record that forever rearranges your brain chemistry as god intended

[anouri]

.

[boundinparchment]

Essence

Behind you, Dottore clicked his tongue against his teeth, and continued rooting around in the cabinet. This wasn’t the first time today. In fact, it was the third after an errant vial rolled from a top shelf and broke earlier that morning. You and your samples remained uncontaminated only due to Dottore leaning forward and covering both of you. Or: an accident with a questionable substance leads to a new experiment. Dottore/Female Reader. Accidental exposure to aphrodisiac; breeding kink towards the end, pwp. Divider by cafekitsune. Available on AO3 here.

“Don’t move.”

You froze, acutely aware of the source of heat and muscle against your back as Dottore reached above you.  

This wasn’t a new occurrence; every once in a while, either Dottore himself or a Segment needed to get into the cabinets above your workstation.  Extra vial trays, pipettes, errant extra microscope slides, among other items.  Things you used for blood and chemical analysis.  You were used to the briefest moment of keeping your head down, front pressed against the edge of your workstation, and feeling Dottore’s heat against you.

Funny, you thought, when he always came across as indifferent to everything.  The Segments were a few degrees warmer, no doubt due to their components.  Their presence was akin to touching a hot pan out of the oven with nothing between your skin whereas Dottore, the prime origin point, was porcelain warmed by fresh tea.

Behind you, Dottore clicked his tongue against his teeth, and continued rooting around in the cabinet.

This wasn’t the first time today.

In fact, it was the third after an errant vial rolled from a top shelf and broke earlier that morning.  You and your samples remained uncontaminated only due to Dottore leaning forward and covering both of you.

You hadn’t caught a glimpse at the label but the contents hadn’t seemed harmful.  Dottore, although not melting, was far from pleased.  He barked to take better inventory of your workstation as your eyes traced the pink substance that soaked his hair, feathery mantle, and immaculate white coat.

He had since removed his formal trappings and appeared all the more graceful for it.  

A breath tickled your scalp as he placed his free hand on your waist, holding you still.

The touch sent jolts through you, as if you were standing in a field during a thunderstorm.  Dottore kept his hand there and you tried to keep your breath from hitching, his finger flexing occasionally.  Was he testing whether you were ticklish?

His breathing was unnaturally slow in return, pressing against you further with every inhale.

“What are you looking for, Lord Harbinger?” you asked, neck craned low.  

It was best to continue to work.  Before you were samples of primordial water.  The substance glistened in standing vials, each awaiting their next step.  

You felt him shift forward and your hips met his properly.  He had, quite effectively, sandwiched you between him and the counter.  A dull yearning sat low in your belly and you doubled your efforts on the samples in front of you.  

To say you did not find your supervisor attractive would be a lie; like most, you often wondered what lay beneath the bird-like mask, literally and metaphorically.  The lower half of his face was charming, home to a well-shaped jaw and a set of lips that were, at times, distracting.  The conversations held between you often led down other avenues.  It was clear to you that few, if any, would ever be a match for him in how he saw the world.

The thought that crossed your mind was bold: someone like him did not need a matching piece, an opposite to dilute him.  A mind like his needed the challenge of one who complemented his thought processes.  More like a fine wine pairing rather than a Hydro slime dousing a flaming flower.

When Dottore didn’t respond, his body tense against you and hand tight on your waist, you spoke up.  Was he ill?  

“Lord Harbinger?” 

You shifted in the hopes that your moving might break his thoughts.  Dottore inhaled sharply and pushed you forward again, chest and hips pressing against you further.  His other arm was still raised, as though he hadn’t quite finished in his search high above.

“I said: don’t move.”

The words were hissed against your ear and you felt the tip of his mask against your scalp.  His chest rose and fell in harsh, stilted motions and you swore you heard him mutter something into your hand when he squeezed your waist again.

Against your backside, you now realized why, precisely, he’d requested your stillness.  The dull pangs from earlier became aching throbs at the apex of your thighs.  You pushed away the thoughts, reminding yourself biological reactions were simply part of being human.  The position you were in was one many would envy.

“I cannot find the tincture that is usually kept here.  But the longer I stay, the worse this problem will be,” Dottore whispered into your ear.

His voice was always so alluring and now it was one of the only parts you could focus on.  Blood drained from your extremities, keen on flooding other parts of your body.

“What was in that vial, sir?”

“Cherubic sea hare venom and whopperflower nectar, stabilized by a single Agate gemstone, finely ground.  All batches of it were purged.  Or should have been.”

An interesting mixture, you mused, as Dottore’s raised arm came down and reached behind you.  You heard a telltale click and then watched as he rested the familiar mask off to the side, next to your tray.  When you went to turn your head and look over your shoulder, his now-free hand found your jaw and pulled your gaze back forward.  Through his gloves, his touch felt feverish, scalding.

“Eye contact will make it worse.  Do as I ask.”

His voice was tight, breathing ragged now, nose buried in your hair.  Archons, you’d had fleeting thoughts of him but this was torture.  Here he was, struggling against whatever he’d come into contact with while trying to work. All because of an accident that wouldn’t have occurred if you didn’t need to work exactly at this location.  Fate was a cruel mistress but this was sheer misfortune for both of you.

“Those substances are hardly volatile on their own, sir,” you offered.

He always enjoyed discussing ideas and he encouraged an environment conducive to it among your peers.  Distracting him might help.

You wanted to move your hips, as though friction would give you any kind of relief, but remained as still as possible.  He wasn’t giving you much of a choice and the longer you stayed still, the more aware you became of everything else.  You were acutely aware of your own wetness, your uniform pants already sticking to the apex of your thighs when you felt him twitch.  His presence was overwhelming on a good day when there were several feet between you.

“The whopperflower nectar is a good base for any mixture but tends to result in disorientation and temperature changes depending on its source,” he said into your hair, his other hand falling to grip your waist.  “Agate, of course, contains the power and passion of the pyro archon.”

His hands tightened, squeezing right at the junction of your hips.

“And the sea hare venom?”

This had to stop at some point, though, right?  None of those substances ever left behind permanent effects.  On their own, they were relatively harmless, but if synthesized together in the right dose, would…

Dottore nuzzled your hair and then worked his way down to your neck, lips ghosting the shell of your ear and the tender spot beneath your earlobe.  

“Enhances one’s awareness of their partner’s needs and changes in pheromones.  Along with an increased stamina.”

“Partner’s needs?”

Your heart pounded as it was but seemed to miss two beats at his wording.  He was already specific and precise.  Purposeful.

“This substance only works when the subjects already have an attraction to another individual, a pre-existing bias.  It is similar to tunnel vision, an obsessive focus on the other with decreased inhibitions.”

You gasped as he pressed against you further, his hardened member against the curve of your ass, situated perfectly.  Heat rose from your chest to your face as you finally put the pieces together and your own arousal caught up with you.

“And you, my dear, keep moving despite my warnings.  Are you eager or were you contaminated as well?”

You stiffened at the realization that, lost in the headiness of it all, you’d been bucking against him the entire conversation.  Your body had a mind of its own and your mouth ran dry.

“I—“

You knew you hadn’t gotten a drop on you.  Somehow that felt all the more shameful.  He needed help out of this situation and all you’d done was chase your own arousal, relished in the moment.  Even if he walked away now, he would still likely require relief and release.  Still be plagued with thoughts of you.  The way forward was obvious, wasn’t it?

“I want to help, my lord.  My mind is clear.  Would it not be beneficial to…see the experiment through?”

The tiniest bit of tension seemed to ease as he flexed his fingers.  Did he like that, you wondered, the way your skin sank beneath his fingers?

“The results might be promising.  But I must warn you…”

Before you could formulate your next thought, Dottore’s hips pinned you in place as he pushed away the objects in front of you with little care.  No sooner had the fleeting consideration for your samples crossed your mind, you felt open-mouthed kisses on your neck, hasty and hungry.  You arched your back and leaned into him, closing your eyes and tilting your neck to give him better access.  

“This will only be the first stage,” he whispered.  “And there is no going back.”

You did not trust your vocal cords as he found a particularly sensitive spot near your ear, stifling a moan and keeping it in your throat.  His hands remained flat against the surface of your work station, further pinning you, surrounding you.  Dottore lifted his head from the curve of your neck long enough to reach out and drag back a pencil and a nearby sheet of paper.

He managed to scribble something in shorthand that you recognized as observations of his symptoms and a basic outline. You had suggested he treat it like an experiment, after all.  

You felt his cock twitch again as his other hand freed itself from the surface to skim the edge of your uniform top.  A low growl rippled through his chest and he paused only to pull off his gloves; as soon as he was free, the pencil was in his hand again and he was grazing the pads of his fingers over your stomach.

Every touch felt as if you were being held above a fire, the flames licking and searing but never leaving a trace.  Your breath left your lips in short, staccato gasps and you shivered, relishing the soft jolts that ran through you.  

He squeezed your hip again on occasion and his fingers dipped beneath the edge of your pants, tracing the lines where your clothes left their mark.  The pressure behind you eased only enough for him to fit his hand between both of you and head lower, grabbing the soft flesh of your ass.  A low moan rumbled behind you as his fingers delved a little further, skimming your outer lips.  You were soaked, his touch gliding over you; you wriggled against him and felt his teeth skim your neck in warning.

“Eager indeed,” he whispered, breath hot against your ear.  “I could already smell it but this is a pleasant surprise.  Have you had thoughts of me, my dear?  Have you fantasized about this?”

Your cheeks burned and Dottore chuckled, his fingers prodding your hot, soaked core once more before withdrawing and cupping your ass again.  He obviously had, otherwise neither of you would be here in this predicament; after all, Dottore stated the substance only worked precisely because there was already a cognitive bias. 

You whimpered as his hand let go of your plush flesh and reached around, fingertip hovering over your swollen clit.  Dottore touched you just enough to cause a squeezing ache through you, your swollen walls demanding more.

“I have, Lord Harbinger,” you panted.

He made another notation as he withdrew his touch, the pencil snapping in his hand just as he finished the last flourish, the last of his restraint gone.  He cast aside the remnants with a flick of his wrist and tugged your pants down just past your hips.  Dottore didn’t bother to do more than unfasten his belt and free himself from the confines of his trousers, bare cock situated between your wet thighs.

The Harbinger pressed a hand to your back and pressed you forward, bending you over the surface, all the better to expose yourself to him.  He leaned over you, sheltering you, as he aligned the head of his member with your entrance, running his length across your lips.  A gasp left you at the sound of your slickness.  Whatever shame you had the decency to feel was gone, replaced with only a blinding need to be full, complete.

He sank into you slowly, his cock stretching your swollen walls with each shallow thrust, his hands fisted so tight his knuckles were bone-white.  You shuddered when he brushed past a particular spot every time, the edge already much closer than you expected.  An icy jolt ran through your core, walls clenching from the pressure of being pressed against the table.  Dottore hissed and his strokes grew long and full, nose buried in the crook of your neck as the sounds and scents of your coupling filled the air.  

At least this lab was more secluded but you long since lost control of any thoughts about being caught.  

“The timing could not have been better,” Dottore murmured, his pace increasing.  “How perfect.”

You meant to ask but he drove into you harder, the edge of the table pushing into your diaphragm, preventing you from speaking.  The impending bliss was already making you see stars and the lack of air was only enhancing the coil tightening deep inside.  You stifled your moans, although perhaps there was no point, as teeth grazed your ear and neck.  Hands reached for your hair, your waist, your hips as he continued to thrust, white hot heat searing across your vision as the pressure finally snapped.  Dottore groaned as you fluttered around his cock, squeezing and pulsing.  

His rhythm never changed through your aftershocks and he sent you over the edge twice more, legs quivering.  All thoughts of documenting his observations seemed gone now as he sank his teeth into the curve where your neck met your shoulder.  With a few quick snaps of his hips, Dottore shuddered atop you and you felt a shooting warmth, filling you to the brim and then some.

Dottore remained inside you, body covering yours.  His hands massaged your hips as he pulled away from your neck enough to press his lips to the open skin and lick away the blood.

“Decreased inhibitions indeed…” you muttered, tongue heavy.

You tried to shift, or at least stand straight slightly.  Your back was beginning to protest and between the man inside you and the table, catching your breath proved difficult.  Dottore chuckled as he ground his hips into yours, his cock still hard and buried deep inside you.

“We’re far from done, my dear.  Stage one is not over yet.  This substance can take days to wear off.  In that time, I’m certain I’ll obtain the results necessary to move right into stage two.  Taking you on your back might improve the timeline, though…”

Your stomach sank as you managed to turn your head and cast a look through your peripheral over your shoulder.  All you caught was a glimpse of a wide smile and glittering ruby eyes staring down at you.

“Oh, did I not mention that?  It’s quite convenient that your body is ready, based on your pheromones; I cannot stop until we’ve guaranteed success.”

[dwindlinghaze]

endless empathy

(remus lupin x reader)

summary: post full moon remus who just wants to be with you

contents: short fic, fluff fluff idk more fluff lol :) established relationship, descriptions of kissing

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"how're you holding up moony? just a few more steps to the hospital wing and you'll be better," sirius said. remus' arms were over james and sirius' shoulders, each supporting their injured friend.

finally arriving at the hospital wing, which for him took so long. remus sighed as he rested his body against the mattress. it wasn't the comfiest but better than nothing. his chest was aching painfully, with new fresh scars from that night. no matter how many times he had transformed, he never got used to the unbearable pain of it all.

madam pomfrey patched him up, quickly shooing away the james, sirius, and peter out of sight.

"where's my girl?" the first thing remus thought right after he woke up is where you were. james and sirius were visiting remus just like any other full moons, but you weren't there... yet.

"she'll be here soon moony," sirius said, trying to crack an assuring smile. just then you walked in with his breakfast in a paper bag, eyes searching for your boyfriend. "long live, she's here."

"morning everyone, morning love," you bowed down to kiss his temple gently, making sure not to make any direct contact against his healing skin. it really hurts to smile when there are scars all over his face, but he couldn't help it.

"we should leave them to be," james said before dragging sirius away out the wing.

"feeling better?" you asked as you opened his breakfast. you've learned to cut them in smaller pieces to avoid remus' scars from opening again due to facial movements.

remus hummed as he reached for your hand. "much better." you fed him his usual breakfast as you tell him about your day and the little information about what you dreamt last night.

"sorry," he whispered, shame washed over him as he took in how pathetic he must look right now. pale, lost of blood, dry, cold.

"don't be sorry for anything," you cupped his face gently. "i love taking care of you rem. makes me happy by just spending time with you."

remus melted at your words as he shuffled to get closer to you. burying his face on your arm, kissing the skin softly.

madame pomfrey walked in and smiled at the two of you as she made her way with some healing potions in the tray she held. in the lady's eyes, you both were like a couple straight out from a book. one always seeks out for the other.

"i suppose he can return back to his dormitory, seeing he heals faster each time," the old woman said, more to you than to remus. "some potions just in case the gashes opened, 'tis all he needs."

remus visibly blushed, seeing you nodding at madam pomfrey. "i can help with that," you offered and she let you, handing the bottle of yellow liquid. she opted for you to use the pipette, adding a few drops before smearing it lightly across the cuts on his back.

"practicing for the old days?" the older woman said in a teasing tone yet very flat. she usually was stern and strict but seeing remus being taken care of by you softened her.

remus cheeks were tinted pink, lucky he was facing the other way. you chuckled in response, shaking your head at her remark.

after madam pomfrey left, you helped remus to put his sweater on, whispering sweet encouragements. you sat down beside him and circled an arm around his torso. he leaned into your touch, cheeks pressing against your neck.

"wanna go back to my dorm," remus mumbled, lifting his head up slowly to catch your eyes.

"of course, just hold on to me," you started to stand up, opening your arms for him to hold onto.

the walk was slow with you trying to help him up. gosh the amount of stairs hogwarts has is unbelievable. remus was strong enough to climb all of them so now he's on his bed, body flat against the mattress.

"lay beside me princess, please?" he asked, looking up at you with the most adoring eyes. he really wanted you to hold him. after a rough night at the shrieking shack, all he needed is the comfort of his love.

"of course," you replied, sliding down beside him as you cover both of your bodies beneath his warm blanket. he threw his arm over your body, face pressing against your chest.

"want cuddles," he mumbled. you always love it when remus gets all mushy and sickly adorable. he was always like this after a full moon and you could never complain. you want nothing more than to hold him and protect him from the nasty world.

moving to a better position, remus looked up at you, smiling before he pressed his lips against yours. it was a soft and sweet kiss, nothing hungry or heated. he badly wanted to feel you.

when you smiled in between his lips, he couldn't help but smile too, pressing harder this time.

"d'you want a back massage?" you asked softly when he groaned in the middle of the kiss, trying to get up to kiss you more.

"yes but i also want to kiss you," he pouted, dipping down to connect your lips again.

before he could though, you held his jaw, noses were already touching. "pick one love, can't do that at the same time," you spoke, in which he returned by a whine and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. he stayed there for a while, seemingly thinking about the decision.

"what about kissing and back rubs?" he said, lifting his head up again to look at you. his eyes held such softness and warmth, contrast to what he was just hours ago.

"sure can," you giggled. it is so hard to resist him. moving your hand around his back in a soft circular motion, remus sighed softly against your face, nuzzling further to your skin.

he pressed his cheeks against yours, smiling in pure bliss. then he moved away to capture your lips in his afterwards, moulding together perfectly.

your lips are the softest, he loves kissing them so much. the position you both were in made it possible for him to feel your heart beating against his. he can feel your heartbeats thumping. it makes him so happy- just by feeling the beat of your heart.

the sweet kiss you shared was now turning more into a soft make out session. him nibbling at your bottom lips as you both pulled away slightly to breathe.

you two have a brief eye contact, smiles slowly creeping up your cheeks. he looked down at your pink plumped lips, glistening perfectly for him to dive down again to continue on what he has left.

that whole day, you spent your time with remus laying above you, body pressed against the other comfortably. you didn't know how long you both made out but your lips were now in the brightest shade of pink.

[emmyrosee]

After begging and begging for sooo long (it only took him 5 minutes to agree cause he can’t resist ur puupy eyes) he finally agrees to let u do makeup or skincare on him.

-Anon🥢

You slip on a little headband for him, brushing whatever hair out of his face before giving him a pat on the cheeks comically, making him shrink up.

“Please, don’t make me regret this,” he murmurs, and you offer him a kiss on his cheek, to both, reassure him and humor him, just a little.

“Trust me,” you hum. “You get into a good skincare routine, you’ll be obsessed with it.”

“Is that why you spend all our money on this?” He chuckles. You nod and he sighs, motioning for you to begin your process on his skin.

You wet a warm wash cloth and dab it gently on his skin, making it damp enough for the cleanser to foam slightly. When you’re done, you grab some of your cleanser and work it into the skin, trying to ignore how cute he is nuzzling into your palm.

“Feels nice,” he says.

“See?” You hum. “It’s good for you too.”

When the cleanser has fully frothed, you wash his face again with the washcloth, rolling the fabric over his cheeks to soak up the suds from his now clean skin. You fan your hands to let it air dry, and he snickers and bats your hands away, “listen I can’t afford a black eye.”

“I would never,” you assure. Then, your fingers latch onto his cheek and pull, and he whines along with his grin. “Wouldn’t want to taint this pwetty face, hmm?”

“I’d hope not,” he says, shaking out of your hold. “What’s next?”

“Serums,” you answer, grabbing the small glass bottle, “I’ll give you a nice hydrating one, so your skin doesn’t fall off.”

“…what.”

“Yeah, acids can make your skin fall off,” you lie. But the way his eyes widen makes you laugh and break the facade, causing him to soften and let out a sigh.

“You know, you’re really good at making me regret bonding with you,” he grumbles.

You shush him softly, “you’re safe now, don’t worry. But acids would help the little black heads on your nose…” without warning, you move your fingers up to try and squeeze his nose, causing him to reel back with a small yelp, “please let me pop one.”

“No! Heel!” He panics. “God, just finish the routine, I’m scared of you now.”

“Fine, fine,” you relent, using the pipette to dribble some of the hydrating serum onto your palms. You rub it slightly to emulsify before softly patting it onto his skin, smiling at the way he angles into your touch. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“I just like the way your hands feel,” he murmurs. “It’s nice when you’re not trying to attack me.”

“One of these days, you’re going to let me at your pores, and then you’ll really hate the way my hands feel.”

“Is there any way I can talk you out of it?”

“No.”

He takes a deep breath in to ground himself while you scoop a healthy mixture of moisturizer in your hand.

“I already dread the day.”

———

hq: tanaka, kageyama, tsukishima, kuroo, kenma, iwaizumi, matsukawa, ushijima, semi, akaashi (whiney baby) atsumu, osamu, suna, sakusa

bnha: bakugou, shinsou, sero, dabi, aizawa

jjk: megumi, geto, toji, shiu

tr: mikey, mitsuya, draken, baji

[abibliophobiaa]

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

-

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along. 

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

-

-

[clawsdevour]

silky skin

wc: 1.0k content warning: post-time skip, established relationship, bokuto x reader, fluff, not proofread

note: doing skincare on bokuto would be so cute (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

໒‧₊˚ ⋅

Lounging on the soft cushions in the living room couch as the light from the TV shines on you. You hear the door creak, and a tall and bros silhouette walk out while you see the steam from the hot shower he took wind out. Bokuto had just finished showering to see you beaming at him with a face mask on while he walked towards you.

“Ooh is that a face mask?? Can I try one?” He’s ruffling his damp hair with a dry towel. His eyes are lit up, taking this as an opportunity to just relax and unwind with you before his next training schedule gets posted.

“Yeah, do you want me to do my whole skincare routine on you?” If he wanted to do the face mask, he might as well get the whole spa treatment while he’s at it. Bokuto’s lowering himself on the couch next to you as he mumbles out an excited Mhm!

While he’s resting on the plush cushions, you walked out to get the essential skincare products for his already perfect skin. He just washed his face in the shower so.. He’d probably just need a toner and maybe a simple serum. After the face mask he could also use some lotion to lock in more moisture after.. There were also new products you haven’t tried yet and wanted to test on him, but you weren’t for sure what his skin type was yet. 

Stepping back towards the living room with a little tray of the toner bottle and class container that carries the serum inside, you set them down next to your boyfriend before taking the sheet mask out for a little walk. Bringing it to the kitchen to chill in the fridge while you got his skin all nice and prepped for the mask.

“I think I have everything. Scooch over so you can lay ur head on my lap, Koutaro.” On the couch, his damp grey and black hair all sprawled out on your thighs while you brush it off his shining face. His hands are resting softly on his stomach as he’s looking up at you with a subtle grin spread on his lips. 

“So first is toner.. It’s perfect for everyday skin care. If you want to borrow this one I’ll give you it since this one is for all skin types,” unscrewing the cap open and shaking the clear liquid onto the palm of your hand. Rubbing your hands together before you softly pressed your wet hands onto the surface of his face.

“T’smells good, like expensive good hehe..” Bokuto’s content with just the first step of his newly built skincare routine. Just having your hands on him makes him almost the happiest man in the world. When you took your presence off of him, his eyes pried open as he saw you grab a little glass container that you opened. 

“Ooh, what is that?” His big hands tenderly take the bottle from your reach to which you let him out of curiosity. He’s toying around with the little silicone pipette, trying to read the label and understand what the words have to do with taking care of your skin.

“..contains hyalur–hyaluronic acid. Babe what are you putting on my face?? Is this really okay for skin..?” His gold eyes shift up from the bottom to peer at you in a slightly shocked face, trying to understand how you know all these chemistry terms that come with taking care of the body’s largest organ. The acid part might’ve threw him off..

“Yes it is. It’s good for keeping your skin nice and hydrated, I use this almost like everyday Bokuto… you seen me put this on!” talking back at him with a slight pout on your lips. His fingers twist it open where his eyes widens seeing how thick and gooey the clear liquid is.

“Gimme that.” Snatching pipette lid from his grasp, Bokuto’s still holding onto the container that contained all of the serum in his other hand. His gaze lingered as you squeezed out a drop or two onto your fingers, putting the cap back into the little glass jar to which he screwed back on before returning back into his resting position. 

His eyes laid back down as you’re rubbing the serum up all over his silky baby-like skin. Tapping in to lock in all the moisture, he can’t help but have a beaming look crawl on his face.

“M’kayy time for the face mask..” shuffling his damp head off your lap to go in the kitchen. Bokuto’s heavy eyes watch you step and grab the chilled mask from the fridge and return back to your seat.

“This might be kind of cold but it’s better when it’s cold okay?” squeezing his squishy cheek to get his attention despite the sleepiness starting to kick in. He responded with a simple nod as his lashes fluttered open into the light.

Tearing open the top of the thin package, your fingers reached in to pull out the soaked and chilly face sheet. You smack it onto his forehead to which he jolts at the freezing touch.

“WOAH! That’s like COLD COLD!!” That really brought him back from his unconsciousness. You can’t help but giggle at how silly your boyfriend can be while you’re unfolding the compressed mask.

“Close your eyes for me reallyyy quick..” lining up the chin part to his, laying the mask onto his skin slowly till it reached his forehead. Adjusting the sheet to mold to his facial features for a better result. 

“Okay now we just gotta wait for a good maybe.. Like twenty minutes-ish before we take it off.” Grabbing all the trash before you head off to throw it away. Bokuto’s head is pushing down on your lap, as his rising arms grab your attention. His hands are at your face that peered right down to his.

“We’re matching now!” Bokuto’s content golden eyes smiled as he gives you a gentle peck.

masterlist here