#I definitely liked them enough to try this again!

[idolisme]

I think maybe OP's point was that feeling the serious feelings of trauma and grief can seem ridiculous when you gotta do basic bodily functions. Certain basic bodily functions can be culturally taboo and therefore seem a little silly. I've wept while pooping because I couldn't stop crying - my body needed that - and it also needed to poop. It wasn't funny in the moment but it is to me now.

Bodily functions are also things that one must do; it isn't externally dictated like school or work or therapy. One can postpone a dentist appointment or call out from work when you're severely depressed, but unless you're trying to die you still gotta find calories and consume them. I have also been there, OP, eating flour tortillas that were literally salted with my own tears bc it was what I had in the house and I had to eat. Again, not funny in the moment, kinda funny now.

For me, as a kid, I was fortunate enough not to have had serious trauma or loss and so the direct juxtaposition of managing severe emotional distress and deciding how to feed myself or needing to regularly use the toilet never really came up til I was an adult. I can imagine that's not true for everyone, so there is definitely a population out there who had a life goes on attitude in childhood as well, for the reasons @moniquill mentions. I bet, though, that statistically speaking, it will be more common in adults because we've just had more time to experience traumatic or grief-inducing events.

one of the most fucked up aspects of being an adult is really how life-goes-on everything is. like you can be dealing with the most fucked up trauma-drama-grief and still have to sleep and eat food to survive and like. poop. pooping while you're really sad shouldn't be a thing but it is. we don't have a say in the matter. life goes on

[socialobligation]

schedule disruption: you

you and izuku midoriya have been best friends forever. he's busy, responsible, always on schedule—you're not. but when your night goes sideways, he drops everything to come get you. you say something you might not remember. he hopes you do.

the music inside is muffled now—blurry thudding base pressed against the walls like it's trying to escape. your phone glows in your palm for a few seconds longer, until izuku’s "i'm on my way" disappears. you blink, feel the chill air wrap around your shoulders, and finally set it down beside you on the grass.

the night air is cool against your skin, a little too cool for how flushed your face feels. you're barefoot, or at least... one shoe is definitely missing. whatever. it's fine.

you curl your arms around your knees and squint up at the stars, counting exactly none of them.

the front door opens behind you with a roar of noise and then shuts again. laughter spills out into the dark for a second, but it doesn't reach you. you sit there in a haze, cheek pressed against your arm, blinking slow. everything feels floaty. you're starting to regret that last drink.

when the familiar black car pulls up to the curb, headlights washing over the lawn, you sigh in relief. izuku parks in a weirdly straight line, like even now he needs to make sure he's perfectly aligned with the sidewalk. of course he does.

he's out of the car in a second, jogging around to you. "y/n?"

you lift your head and wave weakly, "heyyy, 'zuku."

he exhales through his nose, crouching diown. "are you okay?"

"mhm," you hum, then after a beat, "no."

he doesn't ask anything else. he helps you up with one arm around your shoulders, leading you gently to the car, careful not to rush you.

"you smell like cheap tequila and regret," he says as he buckles your seatbelt for you.

"mmm. that's just perfect."

the drive to your dorm is quiet at first—until it's not.

"izuuukuuu," you sing, dragging out the vowels.

he glances at you, just long enough to check you haven't somehow turned into a puddle in his passenger seat. "yeah?"

"do you think that if trees could talk," you say, eyes glazed and face pressed against the window, "they'd be mad at us for always carving initials into them? like. what if that was their face?"

"...what?"

"like—what if—what if it's like if i just came up to you and went '<3 Y/N + I.M.' right across your cheek with a knife."

he blinks hard, struggling not to laugh. "okay. maybe no more frat parties for you."

"you're not even listening to the message, izuku," you pout.

"i think you should write a thesis on it. present it to the botany department."

"you're making fun of me," you say dramatically, eyes fluttering closed. "wow. and to think, i was gonna marry you."

he almost swerves. "what?"

"hmm?"

"...nevermind."

when he pulls up to your dorm and puts the car in park, you frown.

"shit," you mutter, blinking hard. "i don't have my key."

he turns to look at you. "what?"

"my roommates brought me. they were gonna unlock it when i got back. i didn't... i didn't think i'd need mine."

he lets his head fall back against the headrest, then sighs.

"...okay. you're coming back with me."

by the time you get to his apartment, you're half-asleep and still clinging to his arm like gravity doesn't apply to you anymore.

"okay, come on," he murmurs, locking his car and adjusting his grip around your waist. "let's get you inside."

the walk to his building is slow. you trip on the curb and immediately latch onto him with both arms, face smushed against his shoulder.

"you smell nice," you whisper.

"that's—thank you," he says, trying to breathe through it.

he unlocks his door, nudges it open with his foot, and guides you in gently.

you kick kick off your lone shoe and immediately make a beeline for his bed, flopping face-first into the mattress. he sighs and tugs a blanket over you, tossing you a hoodie too—just in case.

he exits the bedroom and returns a few minutes later with a bottle of water, aspirin, and a small trash bin.

you've turned onto your side, face buried into his pillow.

"y/n," he says softly, kneeling beside the bed, "can you sit up for a second?"

"mm. no."

"i brought you water."

"...fine. if you insist," you grumble, lifting yourself up with all the grace of a wet noodle.

he hands you the bottle and the pills. you down them obediently.

then, after a long pause: "you're too nice to me."

"someone has to be," he replies, tucking the blanket around you. "your decision-making tonight was... not ideal."

"hey."

"you were drunk. by yourself. with nobody around that you knew."

you frown, suddenly more awake. "okay, well—sorry my friends ditched me? that's not my fault."

he sighs, eyes soft. "i know. i'm not blaming you."

you grumble something incoherent and flop dramatically onto your side. "felt like you were."

"wasn't," he says gently. "just... worried."

you peek up at him, eyes squinted. "...i guess that's allowed."

"thanks for the permission," he says, and you swear you hear the tiniest smile in his voice.

he starts to stand, but your hand catches his wrist.

"hey, izuku?" he pauses, looking back at you.

you blink slowly. "you're my favorite person. like ever."

his eyes widen a little. he swallows. "...y/n—"

"'s true. dunno when it happened but i love you."

he blinks.

you blink.

"...what?" "i love you," you repeat, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "kinda figured you knew that already."

his mouth opens. nothing comes out.

it's not the first time you've told him that.

you've said it before, offhandedly—over childhood goodbyes, late-night calls, after especially rough days. but something aboiut the way you say it now is different.

it doesn't sound like a best friend.

it sounds like everything else.

"i mean," you continue, voice soft and sleepy," why else would i always call you first? or wait for you to text back before i do anything. or remember your whole ass schedule even though i don't even know mine."

he looks like he's buffering. you broke izuku midoriya.

which means the only plausible thing to do here is keep going.

"oh," you add suddenly, "and you're, like, insanely hot. in a shy, rule-following, chronic overachiever kinda way."

"y/n."

"what?"

"you're drunk."

"yeah," you agree, "but i'm also right."

he laughs under his breath, eyes warm even in the dim light. and then, gently:

"yeah. i... love you too."

your eyes widen just slightly, and he adds, a little quieter, "i just want you to say it again when you mean it sober. so i can believe it's real."

you grin, eyes fluttering shut. "i'll tell you first thing in the morning, then."

he lingers there a second longer, like he's about to say something else—but he doesn't.

just pulls the blanket over your shoulder a little higher.

and softly, almost too softly: "okay. morning, then."

he turns off the light and closes the door behind him.

[l-starsz]

a/n: finally got around to this😛 i hope this is good, i got a bit carried away writing this.. also it won’t let me tag so i left the @ in🥲 (also last request done!!! still not taking any rn though since i still have loads added to my list of things i need to write and post😋)

billie knew how to get a girl. and it showed. she knew the right things to say and when to say them. although she hadn’t been with many girls, she knew the right way to get a girl without making her uncomfortable. and that’s what she did to me.

i’d had men approach me in the past who definitely didn’t know how to properly make a girl feel right, let alone treat one right. but there was something about billie. probably because she was a girl herself, but i could tell that i wouldn’t regret getting her number. she was sweet, and caring, and she knew that. she knew that she could probably get any girl she wanted with just a few simple words.

from that night forward, billie and i talked a lot, and ended up being friends. but there was always something more there. i fell for her the night i saw her, but i didn’t want her to know that. there were obviously feeling on her part too, though.

like the time i told her i’d never actually had an orgasm when someone touched me. i’d been fucked before, but not well. the people i’d been with just waited until they came, and didn’t bother about me. and billie took it upon herself to advise me i guess? well it was more like an offer to help me out. i laughed it off, i thought she was joking, but then she added onto her words.

“baby, when you need the job done, you can call me.” it was a whisper, but loud enough for me to hear.

my cheeks turned pink and i attempted to change the conversation, but her words lingered in the back of my mind. since i didn’t know she liked me back, i was trying so hard to forget about her. i tried talking to people, but they weren’t like her. i even tried to push her away, but it didn’t work. we had plans, and i could barely cope without her.

the day came, i was seeing her for the first time in a while. i’d missed her. and i felt so bad for pushing her away. i was just finishing getting ready when i heard her car revving outside. i knew the sound of her car. i knew it was her. i was going to her house just to hang out for a while, but she insisted on picking me up.

i ran downstairs and after locking my door, i hopped into her car with a smile on my face.

“hi bil!!” i smiled, hugging her tight, and as best i could sitting down, before buckling my seatbelt.

“hey angel! i’ve missed you.” she pouted and pulled off the curb.

“i missed you so much more.” i giggled, leaning back slightly in my seat.

we spoke for a few minutes before i mentioned something.

“it’s so difficult finding good people around here. i swear things will be going well then all of a sudden they’re either a horrible person, or they can’t be bothered to make me finish.” i rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.

“well you know that if you’ve never had the one, you can call me, baby.” she smirked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shifter.

of course, my cheeks turned pink again, just like the last time she said something like this. the day went smooth after that, we watched movies, had dinner together, and when it was getting a little late, she drove me home again. i told her i’d get a taxi, but she wouldn’t accept that, she wanted to drive me home.

when i’d got into the house, i immediately showered, trying to clear my mind. i needed her so bad. i couldn’t get her to leave my mind. when i finished my shower, i did some self care, and immediately got into bed. my favourite tv show was calling to me when i turned my tv on, but even with it playing i couldn’t get her words to leave my mind.

when it reached 1am and her words still hadn’t left me, i knew to the only option was to call her. i was soaked just thinking about her, i was desperate. i’d pushed my feelings away for way too long and i couldn’t help myself any longer.

i unlocked my phone and found her contact, clicking on the ‘call’ button with shaky movements. she answered in the first ring, her voice keeping the usual soft edge to it. the one that she only used when she was talking to me. i could hear the smile on her face as she spoke.

“hey pretty, everything okay? i only dropped you home a couple hours ago.”

“i.. billie.” i breathed out. i didn’t even know how to word what i needed.

“tell me, love. what’s the matter?” she sounded more concerned now because of my lack of words.

“i.. need you.” i admitted quietly, closing my eyes, worried for her response.

i knew she wouldn’t react badly, she told me to call her, but i was just nervous to admit it.

“i’m on my way.” i heard her smirk.

“hurry. please.” i groaned, laying my head back and listening to her moving around her room.

i heard her grab her keys, put her shoes on, lock her door, the slam of her car door. the whole time she was driving to my house, we stayed on call making small conversation. it felt like forever before i heard her car pulling into my driveway. i didn’t even need to unlock the door for her, she already had a key.

once i heard her walk into my house, i ended the call and waited for her to come to my room.

the second she was in my room, her lips found mine. her hands were all over me, finding the waistband of my shorts almost immediately.

“bil.. i haven’t-“

“shh, it’s okay i’ve got you. no need to tell me, just let me take care of you.” she cut me off.

i nodded and allowed her hand to slip lower, under my shorts and into my underwear. her fingers slid through my soaked folds, my wetness getting on her knuckles just from brushing against my underwear. the tips of her fingers pushed inside me, causing me to let out a breathy moan.

her thumb was resting over my clit, and when her fingers pushed completely inside me, her thumb applied more pressure.

“please billie! please touch me more.” i pouted and scraped my nails along the sheets.

“no need to hurry, baby. let me make you feel good, take my time, yeah?”

i whined in response. as long as she was here i was happy, so i nodded, but my back still arched up, longing for more. her fingers weren’t too quick, nor too slow. they were perfect.

she knew what i needed. like she’d had my body memorised for years. as if this wasn’t the first time she’d ever touched me this way. i could feel my walls clench perfectly around her fingers, my juices getting all over them.

she found the perfect spot soon enough, making me cry out her name, practically begging for her. that was when her thumb moved away. her fingers kept working inside me, but her tongue replaced her thumb. this was going way better than i could’ve imagined, and i thought that my constant daydreaming about her was perfect.

she flicked, sucked, and carefully bit on my clit, giving me as much pleasure as she could without overwhelming me. that was what got me close. ready to cum.

“that’s it, pretty girl. let go for me.”

she moved away from my pussy, just for a moment to speak, before going right back at it. when my walls were basically crushing her fingers, she worked faster to make me finish. and it worked. i was sent straight over the edge, moaning out her name loud. i tried to stay quiet, considering the time, but she was just too good. too perfect.

“there you go. so perfect for me. took my fingers so good.” she spoke against my lips, carefully pulling her fingers out at the same time, using her words as a distraction.

we got cleaned up after a few minutes of laying in each others arms, and when we were curled up together under my blankets, freshly showered. and i was falling asleep, i heard her speak.

“i get the job done, hm baby?”

“definitely. thank you billie.” i mumbled, before falling asleep with my face pressed against her chest.

[mwahs-stuff]

Omg ur bkg head imagine but make it him giving head for the first time 😵‍💫 im sure he’d be frustrated that he wasn’t getting it perfect but he’d eventually get there. Or even giving head to an inexperienced reader just to switch the roles up ;)

omg yes. i love this, he’d most definitely take his time to master it. i’ve been working on my writing style a lotttt, lmk if u like it<3

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡

You and Katsuki had been dancing around the edge of something more for a while now. The heat between you had been building, slowly, shyly, but never quite boiling over. You were both a little hesitant, careful with each other in a way that made every brush of skin feel more intense than it probably should’ve.

Tonight was quiet. Just the two of you in his room, low lamplight casting soft shadows, a blanket wrapped around your legs as you sat on his bed. Katsuki had been unusually quiet, which wasn’t saying much, he was always more action than words, but this felt different. Focused.

He’d been watching you, eyes dark and unreadable, until he finally spoke.

“Hey,” he muttered, his voice low, uncertain. “Can I… try something?”

Your heart jumped a little, and you tucked your chin down, already blushing. “o-okay,” you said softly. “What kind of… something?”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking away for a second before turning those intense red eyes back to you. “I wanna go down on you.”

Your breath caught, your face going hot instantly. “Oh…”

“I haven’t done it before,” he added quickly, almost defensively, like he had to get that part out before you assumed he was some kind of expert. “But I wanna. Just�� if you’re okay with it.”

You nodded before you could overthink it, biting your lip. “Y-Yeah. I’m okay with it… I mean, if you’re sure.”

He stepped closer, gently nudging you to lie back as he settled between your legs. You were nervous—nervous enough that your hands trembled slightly as you helped shimmy out of your shorts. Katsuki noticed. Of course he did.

“You good?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, more tender. His hand rested on your thigh, thumb brushing over your skin.

“I’m just… a little nervous,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “I’ve never really… had someone do this before either.”

He blinked. “Wait, really?”

You nodded, eyes flicking away. “Yeah.”

Something about that seemed to ground him. Like it made things more real. He leaned in, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh, and your whole body tensed.

“I’ll go slow,” he murmured. “You just tell me what feels good. I wanna learn.”

You nodded again, your hands gripping the sheets.

Katsuki started hesitantly. His lips brushed over you, then his tongue followed, tentative at first—like he was exploring something sacred. It made your breath hitch immediately, your thighs instinctively trying to close around his head. He pressed his hands to them, holding you open, but not harshly. He wasn’t looking for control—he was just trying to stay close.

His tongue moved in slow, cautious strokes. Testing. Learning. Every few seconds he’d pause, eyes flicking up to your face, checking if your breathing changed or if your hips twitched. You were trying so hard not to make a sound, embarrassed by how quickly you were getting overwhelmed.

“Don’t hold back,” he said quietly, his voice muffled against your skin. “I need to know what’s working.”

You bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. “It… it feels good. I promise.”

But he could tell you were still holding back, and it frustrated him. Not with you, with himself.

“Tch… I dunno if I’m doing it right,” he growled under his breath. “I want you to feel good, not just say it.”

You looked down at him, heart aching a little at the furrow between his brows.

“You’re doing good, Katsuki,” you said, a little braver now. You reached down, gently brushing your fingers through his hair. “Just… right there. That part, when you move your tongue a little slower…”

He blinked up at you, then nodded like he was absorbing every word.

And when he did exactly what you asked, your breath hitched audibly, your hips jerking slightly beneath his touch. He groaned against you,like your reaction lit something up inside him, and started focusing all his attention right there. Repeating that motion, gradually building pressure and rhythm until you were gasping, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Fuck, that’s it, huh?” he muttered, more to himself than to you, almost proud.

Your thighs trembled around his shoulders, and you felt the pleasure curl tight and hot in your stomach. You were overwhelmed and embarrassed and completely, helplessly undone.

When it finally hit you, you couldn’t stop the soft moan that left your lips, your hips twitching as you cried out his name. Katsuki didn’t stop until you were spent, breathing hard, your legs twitching from aftershocks.

He pulled back slowly, lips wet, face flushed, looking a little dazed.

You covered your face with your hands, too flustered to meet his eyes.

He let out a soft laugh. “Oi. Don’t hide from me.”

You peeked at him between your fingers, your cheeks burning. “S-sorry. That was just… a lot.”

He smirked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Yeah? Good.”

Then, softer, more genuine: “You okay?”

You nodded, heart full and heavy with affection. “More than okay”

[oh-no-its-bird]

Welcome back to another episode of "Birds incredibly niche aus that are almost definitely inspired off of some shit that happened to her"

On today's episode, I bring you; Disgruntled donations attendant Kakashi and "keeps bringing shit I can't fucking accept" Obito

(What is a donations attendant? Basically the person who works in the back rooms of good will who accepts donations from people who swing by with them. Lots of lifting heavy shit into boxes and moving furniture, lots of telling people "ma'am, that's a bunch of rusty nails. I can't accept that.")

Anyways.

Donations attendant Kakashi.... I think he works with Yamato and Shisui + Itachi are also there somewhere. (Team ro content...oughh...) Sarutobi is his shitty annoying boss

Kakashi is built like a stick and looks fucking anemic, so he's always getting people wary of handing him heavy things to lift, or offering to help— which is only actually helpful like 10% of the time and mildly patronizing the other 90%

Still, others can't help but worry

The actual point of this au is just Obito continuously coming by with things Kakashi can't actually accept and deriving way too much joy from making Kakashi explain why

He is pulling up with a truck bed loaded with just straight up rusty metal and going whatever do you mean owo ??? When Kakashi goes "Obito what the fuck."

He shows up with a mattress covered in suspicious red stains. They can't accept mattresses anyways, the stains are him going the extra mile.

Or he shows up when the store is closed just to drop bags of random crap and broken furniture on their back porch so Kakashi has to sort through it first thing in the morning.

^ on that note, multiple times Kakashi will reject whatever Obito brought in only for Obito to go "oh that's ok, I'll just bring it in again when you're gone, teehee <3"

Just this silent war between them with Obito continuously showing up with increasingly concerning things just to piss off Kakashi

It's incredibly unclear if they're actually friends or not. Yamato, Itachi and Shisui have a bet going on what the fuck their history and relationship is supposed to be. Shisui thinks they're friends, Yamato thinks they're enemies. Quietly, Itachi thinks they might be dating.

(The answer is all three and none of them at once)

I think Obito is actually taking unwanted trash from other Akatsuki members for this. He ran out of weird, useless, suspicious and / or dangerous shit to try and donate in that first month— he's been offering to take out the others trash since he ran out

Hidan especially is happy to give him things he doesn't want (most of it is blood stained. "Dont worry, Tobi" he says "the blood isnt mine!" "Oh yeah Kakashi will love this.")

Kakuzu asks if there's money involved in the disposal then gets disinterested when he learns there isn't

Konan once gives him a live bomb.

Itachi has yet to admit he knows Obito outside of work. (He is going out of his way to not be there when Obito comes by to bother Kakashi)

Uhhh something something then they angrily make out over the haunted dolls Obito brought in from Sasori (they weren't "haunted enough" for him to keep)

[dammit-tazmuir]

(tags from @katakaluptastrophy )

Zalgo Text JUST AN ORDINARY GUY is so good and so accurate, but the baby lesbians' trend of "looked like a guy, I guess" is also very fair lmaoooo. Truly the duality. xD

That said, though!

I feel like there's kind of an effect in the fandom where like... People either draw him pretty conventionally attractive, or the way they try to pull away from that is to (a) make him too old (I'm guilty of this one, I had not realized he was supposed to still be 30s the one time I drew him; also though, not mutually exclusive with being attractive lol), (b) draw his face much rounder/softer, forgetting that it's described as long and square and that like most necromancers he's emaciated, and/or (c) least common as far as I've seen but sometimes giving him features conventionally seen as "uglier", which also sort of misses the point in that that still stands out, just in the opposite direction.

Sadly I think it's not entirely possible to draw him 100% accurate, because everyone's definition of "average" varies so much, we could never universally hit the exact level of Too Normal as to be uncanny.

But that said, I think it's okay and might even work well if he's like, mildly attractive, if you're into men. He's very thin with a square jaw and that's already ticking a box or two for some people. His eyes ARE really fucked up and let's face it we're on tumblr dot com, that's gonna appeal to some people by itself. But while I don't have an accurate visual aid, the way I've started thinking of it is like...

It's almost the way Hollywood actors with similar features rocking the same styles over and over are attractive by many standards, but become really boring to a lot of people, too. Like not any specific aesthetic that's had that effect, but the same principle. He's not hot enough that anyone's gonna stop and double take, nothing stands out in a good or bad way. He just looks Nice. Casually pleasant. Pre-Rez, you could have looked at him and felt anywhere from neutral to mildly positive, and then not thought about it again. In a society that associates beauty with goodness and still codes villains by making them ugly, he looks just nice enough to give off a casually Friendly and Safe first impression, and then you forget about him five minutes later. Just a very nice normal guy, don't worry about it. :3

not to tell you how to pilot your helicopter but i think the vast majority of you draw John Gaius too conventionally attractive. he's very pointedly just a guy apart from the freaky eyes.

[lvlybin]

harddom! bin fucking yn into overstim and subspace + aftercare 😗☝🏻

cw unprotected p in v sex, creampies, overstimulation, mentions of passing out, oral (f!receiving), mentions of spanking, praise, a little bit of self-doubt, implications of a dom/sub lifestyle, little bit of edging, aftercare! 18+ MDNI

✉️ YES YES YES! I think hanbin is such a soft dom, but I think that when he gets angry, he definitely has the potential to be a harddom :P

“Nuh uh. You’re not tapping out yet,” Hanbin gets out between his teeth, and you feel his fingers tangle in your hair close to your scalp to tug your head back. The sharp sting that’s not painful enough to actually hurt, making you yelp. Hanbin didn’t have many rules for you to follow when it came to your sex life, but there was one he never budged on: no making nasty comments about yourself.

You were supposed to be out on a date with him right now. At a nice restaurant or something (you couldn’t even remember, that’s how far gone you were), but here you were–three orgasms in with a sore ass as you watch yourself get fucked in the full length mirror in your bedroom. All because of one little comment about how you didn’t like how your body looked in the dress you were going to wear. Hanbin didn’t let that slide.

He had stalked over to where you were sat at your vanity slowly, and you had practically seen how the self-deprecating words had made him angry. Not for his sake, but for yours. Because you were perfect in his eyes, and you were perfect in that dress. He had made you repeat those words as he ate you out from behind. “My body is beautiful”, “I’m perfect the way I am”, “I’m loved”–mantras Hanbin had drilled into your head. And he’d made you say them over and over again until he was convinced that you believed them. Only then did he let you come. 

But with the reassurance out of the way, then came the punishment. As if the edging wasn’t enough, he’d spanked your ass raw–a reminder of one of the few rules he had set for you. And he didn’t even let up when you started crying. Not until you were truly sorry for speaking poorly about yourself.

“We wasted a reservation because of this… All because you decide to act like you’re fucking blind,” Hanbin mutters, his dick slamming into you after each word. You’re sure he can feel the way your swollen walls throb around the thick length of his cock. Just like how you feel every drag of his veins and each little gush of pre-cum from his tip as he fucks into your oversensitive cunt. It feels like the fluid is sticking to your cervix; that’s how deep he is.

Hanbin huffs, releasing your head to wrap that arm around your body, fingers finding your pulsing clit. The harsh movements against the bundle of nerves has you jerking wildly in his hold, desperate to try and get away. He holds you firm. “Your body is beautiful. You are perfect, and this cunt–” 

You yelp as the pads of his fingers spank your clit softly.

“This cunt is perfect for my long cock.” And with that, you’re cumming for the fourth time that evening. And then he fucks you through another. And another. Another. Another. Until you’re on the verge of passing out from the pleasure. Only when you’re a sobbing, trembling mess beneath him–unable to form a single thought, does Hanbin finally let himself go. 

It had been torture for him to hold back his own orgasm as he practically split you in two, your gummy walls sucking him in so deliciously. But now, his job is done. Well, almost. With your pussy pumped full of his cum and your brain filled with his praise, he had to bring you back to earth. So reluctantly, Hanbin removes himself from you. You whimper as you feel him leave.

“M’coming right back, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers reassuringly as he rushes off to your bathroom to get a washcloth. If he had things his way, he’d give you a bath with the lavender bubble bath he’d just bought for you, but Hanbin knew that you were too sensitive to move at this moment. So cleaning you up with a warm washcloth would have to do.

He returns to the bedroom, handling your body carefully as he spreads your legs again. “You did so well, my love… My beautiful girl.” He can’t stop himself as he gently parts your folds with his fingers, admiring the sight of his thick, pearly cum oozing out of your hole. “So good…” 

Hanbin cleans you up and gets you water, slowly massaging lotion into the sore skin of your ass after he helps you drink. Throughout the whole process, he’s whispering even more praises to you. Even though you’re already half-asleep, you’ve never felt more loved. Especially as he pulls you close to his chest to sleep, telling you how much he loves you <3

[star-5truck]

A letter to you

Sypnosis:The final letter Dabi Touya sent you before the final battle.

Pairing :T. Todoroki x Reader

Two posts in a day? Its a miracle lowk

Dear [Name],

    By the time this letter reaches you, I’ll probably be dead. I plan on making sure this arrives unscathed at your side, since I’m aware you’d still be in a coma when it arrives. I’m a little disappointed I won’t get to see your pretty face on the battlefield, but it’s better than you getting hurt. To start off, I ask you to forgive me for everything. I know I wasn’t the one who put you in your state, but I still apologize for that nonetheless.

Now, this letter isn’t for me to apologize like some beggar. I just want you to know my thoughts. I’d rather I not die without giving you a clear conscience. I know when I left that night without a word it hurt you. You really shouldn’t forgive an asshole like me, I hurt you in ways words can’t describe when you’ve been nothing but understanding towards me. So, I hope that through this letter, you get to understand me more. Because in the one hundred thirty-six days, three minutes, and five seconds we’ve known each other, I never really opened up to you.

The first time I met you, I thought you were a lunatic. I was injured, on the brink of death, and about to pass in peace but then I saw you. I thought that ‘this is it; I die to the hands of some hero without putting up a fight.’ Yet my demise never came. You took care of my injuries, brought me to your home and treated me like a human being.

What hero tries to talk it out with a villain? Newsflash, you, apparently. I’d like to inform you that you have not changed my views on heroes at all. I still believe they are all self-serving assholes that don’t care about anything other than themselves. I loathe them all… except you. If anyone is going to make the hero society a better place, it’s going to be you.

I don’t think the hero commission took it well when they found out we were having rendezvous’, eh? I always told ya we’d get caught one day. I knew that if I stayed, you’d be in bigger trouble than you already were. I truly believe it was for the better good when I left you that night. Yet with that being said, I’ll never regret meeting up with you every now and then.

You were definitely one of the good things in this hell. I haven’t found myself enjoying someone’s company in a long time. You’re some sort of blessing- to me and the world. I’m not super religious myself, but if there is some God out there, I’m real grateful they made you a part of my life. I haven’t been good enough for the God’s to respond to me, but for some reason they sent me you and I don’t plan on letting you go.

But that’s a lie and we both know it. Technically- I am letting you go. I’ve done it multiple times, actually. Kept pushing you away again and again but you kept coming back. Why is that?

I don’t deserve a soul as kind as yours. You were my light in the darkness, or however the saying goes. I think somewhere along the way I dimmed that light. There are times where not even the brightest of lights work. It’s not your fault, anyway. Because you did get rid of the emptiness I’ve always felt. I ruined myself on my own terms. I’ve always been fucked from the start.

You almost succeeded with your goal on changing me. When you told me to hide away with you? I almost caved in. To tell you the truth, I could never say no to you. You’re everything to me, minus the L.O.V, but they aren’t important right now. You are the one place I’d call home.

It is incredibly selfish for me to say that I’d like to keep you at my side forever. I bring pain wherever I go, and you- dear hero, are too kind to be treating a villain like this. I’d rather you hate me than going off and trying to save me. We both know I’m too far gone. Nonetheless, I appreciate the fact you thought I was capable of change. At some point, you made me believe it, too.

You’ll be the only thing I’m going to miss after I’m gone- that and crashing at your place. The time I’ve spent with you is something I’ll cherish, which we know is rare coming from me. You’d be the seven minutes before my death. I would’ve loved to run away and hide with you, [Name]. You saved me in every way possible. But I am driven by hate that even I can’t escape. I will do anything it takes to take down Endeavor, even if it means bringing down myself with him.

So, for the first and the last time, I love you, [Name].

Love, Touya Todoroki.

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 29

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist] Content Warning: fluff, so much fluff

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

The shift had started normally enough. One stroke alert and a septic shock patient, all before 11 a.m.—the usual brand of the department.

But somewhere between Room 4’s central line and the stack of admission paperwork waiting in the nurses’ station, you caught Michael’s hand beneath the counter.

He didn’t flinch. Just looked up from his notes and arched one brow, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

You leaned closer, whispering, “Trying to check your pulse.”

Robby gave a soft laugh. “You’re about to raise it.”

You bumped his shoulder with hers. “That a promise?”

He turned his head just enough that their noses nearly touched, his voice still quiet. “You’re really playing with fire.”

Y/N’s lips curled. “You love fire.”

He was about to say something—something smug, probably—but then Dana materialized in front of you with a look of no-nonsense authority and a clipboard that could absolutely be used as a weapon.

“Doctors,” she greeted, already suspicious, “why do you look like two teenagers about to make out behind the bleachers?”

You yanked your hand back as Robby cleared his throat, suddenly very focused on his tablet.

“Just... reviewing labs,” he said.

Dana didn’t miss a beat. “Uh-huh. Review them farther apart.”

You tried—and failed—not to laugh.

“I swear to God,” Dana muttered, already halfway out of the hub. “You two better not be sneaking kisses in the on-call room. That place is sacred.”

“Define sacred,” you called after her.

Dana’s voice echoed down the hall. “Y/N Williams, don’t make me assign you to the rectal exam queue for the rest of the week!”

Robby bit his lip, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “You heard her. No making out in the on-call room.”

You leaned closer again, grinning. “What about the stairwell?”

“That’s definitely haunted.”

“Elevator?”

“Too risky.”

“Supply closet?”

He gave you a sideways look. “Are you propositioning me?”

“I’m being thorough. It’s called logistics.”

“You’re a menace,” he whispered.

You smiled, then brushed the side of your hand against his one more time—barely a touch. Just enough.

And later, during rounds, you slipped him a Post-it in the middle of a coffee cup.

"Break room. Five minutes. No witnesses."

His head snapped up. You winked over your shoulder as you walked off.

You were halfway through your coffee when the door clicked open and Robby slipped inside, looking like he’d just committed tax fraud.

“You realize Dana is going to hunt us for sport if she comes in”

“No, she won’t.”

“So why are we doing this?”

You shrugged, stepping close. “Because you look really good in those scrubs and I’m trying to motivate myself to survive the next eight hours.”

“Glad to be of service.”

He leaned down, finally catching your mouth with his in a kiss that was warm and brief and almost too sweet for how much you both wanted more.

And then—

“AHEM.”

Dana stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

You jolted back like you’d been electrocuted. Robby immediately picked up the nearest coffee mug and pretended he’d been deeply invested in the art of stirring it.

Dana stared at them both, expression unreadable. 

“I’m not mad.”

You blinked. “You’re not?”

Dana held up one finger. “But if I catch you two making out again while the residents are elbow-deep in a GI bleed with no backup, I will personally assign you to rectal exams until the end of time.”

Robby coughed. “Understood.”

“And use a damn timer,” Dana added as she turned away. “Five-second kisses or less. No exceptions.”

As the door closed again, you turned to Robby, eyes wide.

“She just gave us a five-second rule.”

He smiled, stepped closer again, and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Better make ‘em count.”

—-------------------------------------------

It was almost 10 p.m. by the time they got home.

You kicked off your shoes at the door with a groan, dropped your bag somewhere in the hallway, and immediately beelined it for the couch. Robby followed, slightly more graceful, if only because he hadn’t spent the last six hours dodging ICU transfers and reminding a first-year resident not to use the defibrillator as a coat rack.

“Are you alive?” he asked, dropping the keys into the dish.

You made a noise that sounded vaguely like “yes,” but mostly like “no.”

He smiled and walked into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“You promised me pasta,” you called from the couch.

“I did. And I’m delivering.” He reached for a pan. “Unless you want cereal.”

“I want carbs,” you mumbled into a throw pillow. “I want sauce. I want garlic so strong it violates hospital policy.”

He laughed, grabbing ingredients. “Coming right up.”

By the time you’d changed into one of his old shirts and flopped back onto the couch, the apartment was filled with the warm scent of garlic and tomato and the quiet hum of music from the record player. You watched him from the kitchen island, brow furrowed in concentration, stirring sauce like it was a delicate surgery.

You leaned against the counter, soft smile playing at your lips.

“You know,” you said quietly, “I could get used to this.”

He glanced at you, a little flushed from the stove heat, eyes warm. “Used to what?”

“This. You. Coming home with me. You cooking for me.”

Robby set the spoon down slowly, turning toward her. His expression shifted, softened.

“I could get used to it too.”

You swallowed, the air suddenly thicker than it had been a second ago.

“I mean,” you said, a little too fast, “we already act like an old married couple.”

He stepped closer, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Except you steal all the covers.”

“You run the shower too hot.”

“You drink half my coffee and then forget where you left it.”

You grinned. “You hum Springsteen in your sleep.”

There was a pause.

They were standing a foot apart now. Close enough for you to count the little lines at the corners of his eyes. Close enough for him to reach out and tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I—” he started.

“I think—” she said at the same time.

They both laughed. Nervous. Breathless.

“You first,” he said, voice softer.

You bit her lip. “I think I—”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The smoke alarm shrieked.

“Shit!”

Robby spun back to the stove. Smoke billowed from the pan like a scene from a disaster film.

You lunged for the window, throwing it open as Robby yanked the pan off the burner and cursed under his breath. The sauce was scorched to the bottom. The smell of burnt garlic filled the room like a punch to the face.

You waved a dish towel at the ceiling while he fanned the alarm with a cutting board.

“You were supposed to watch the sauce!” you yelled, laughing.

“I was busy trying to say I love you!”

The alarm finally went silent.

You both froze.

Your eyes widened.

His ears turned red.

There was a beat of silence.

“Was that—” you asked.

“Yes,” Robby said, setting the cutting board down. “Yes, I did just say that.”

You blinked at him. “You love me.”

He nodded once, nervous but steady. “Yeah.”

You stared at him, something delicate and stunned blooming behind your ribs.

“Well,” you said, stepping closer and poking his chest lightly, “I was about to say it first, but somebody burned dinner.”

Robby exhaled a laugh, caught between relief and affection and the residual stress of almost starting a kitchen fire.

“I love you,” you said, for real this time, softer. “Just so we’re clear.”

He smiled then—wide and wrecked and so full of heart it made your chest ache.

They stood there in the smoky kitchen, surrounded by the smell of ruined marinara, and kissed like it was the only thing keeping them upright.

Later, they ate slightly burnt pasta with way too much parmesan and curled up on the couch, tangled under the same blanket, as a rerun played in the background.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was them.

And that was enough.

[milessunflowers]

Clingy!Franco x engineer!reader or mechanic!reader trying to work on the car and Franco wants attention ( suggestive if u want!) sorry if this isnt specific enough , love ur work btw :)

omg i love this (clingy!franco *chefs kiss*) and thank you so much!!

clingy!franco colapinto x mechanic!male!reader

synopsis: franco has always been clingy, theres not a single doubt about it. it just gets ten times worse when you have to work longer than he does

author's note: i also really love writing for franco if yall didnt know. hes also so ajakakwlwjrjwlaoqn like i just love him so much and hes so fun to write for! hopefully you like it!!

usually after a race you stay longer than franco to go over the car and what needs to be fixed or modified

and usually franco is pretty chill about

sometimes he gets bratty but most of the time he just waits patiently

he would usually distract himself by chatting with the other drivers or playing on his phone

however, with the times he gets super clingy and attnetion seeking he can become an asshole

he gets bratty and bitchy

he glares at people and snaps at them

its funny to most people, especially when they see the change up when he finally gets to hug you

he just melts into you

he definitely hangs off your back as you try to work

makes things harder for sure but it makes everyone else less uneasy in a way

he got happier and back to himself

as soon as you had to work on something that required full bodily movement, hes a bitch again

he follows you around like a shadow half the time

hes just whiney the entire time

its funny to watch you just roll your eyes at him and trying to hide your smile

when you are finally finished working, he is immediately hugging you

hes kissing all over your face and you are practically carrying him to the car to drive to the hotel to sleep

he loves cuddling and doesnt even care if youre all dirty

he'll cuddle you regardless

he wont let you shower until he has had his fill of cuddles

even then hes following you into the shower

and he repeats this process every race

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile, @alex-wotton, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[missmaymay13]

serendipity - m.celebrini w.smith

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

m.celebrini x fem!oc | 2.5k

Summary: the two young sharks rookie decide to have an adventure before a game and end up getting lost. desperate and with no way back to the arena, they enlist the help of two girls who happened to be at the right place at the right time.

a/n: let me know if you guys would want a pt.2!

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The bus wasn’t even supposed to pull in for another two hours, but apparently, someone had either seriously messed up the schedule—or more likely, Will Smith had just misread it entirely—and now the San Jose Sharks found themselves standing awkwardly early outside Climate Pledge Arena. They looked like a group of over-dressed teenagers dropped off way too early for prom, loitering around the team bus in full game day suits, checking their phones, yawning, and stretching like they were about to step into a cage match instead of a professional hockey game.

"We are so painfully early," Macklin Celebrini muttered under his breath, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt like it had suddenly become sentient and was trying to strangle him. His gaze slid sideways toward Will, who stood a few feet away with the unearned enthusiasm of someone who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that it was still barely morning.

Will’s eyes were practically sparkling with the energy of a golden retriever that just saw its leash. "This is fate," he announced dramatically, stuffing his phone into his pocket and turning to face Mack with a grin that could only mean trouble. "We’re exploring. There’s this TikTok-famous coffee shop, like, two blocks from here."

Mack raised an unimpressed eyebrow, already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. "You mean the one that’s always packed and impossible to find?"

Will’s grin only widened, that dangerous little glint in his eyes shining brighter. "Exactly. Come on, we’ve got time."

Mack groaned audibly. "We’ve got pre-game in two hours."

"Exactly!" Will beamed. "Time for a little adventure."

Against every rational thought in his brain, Mack followed him.

Thirty minutes later, the adventure had devolved into a slow-moving disaster. Will was spinning in circles on a cracked sidewalk like a malfunctioning GPS, pointing at random buildings. "I swear it was right here! This is exactly what it looked like in the video."

Mack, already freezing in his too-thin suit, tugged his jacket tighter around himself and leveled a withering glare at Will. "That video was probably filmed in 2022. There is no coffee here. There is no cozy aesthetic or magical TikTok oasis. There is only windburn, the smell of questionable alley hot dogs, and the creeping terror of being late to warm-ups."

Will waved him off with the blind confidence of a man who’d never admitted fault in his life. "We’re close, I swear. I’ve got this whole mental map."

"Your GPS skills are a hate crime," Mack muttered. "You've pointed at three identical brick buildings in a row and said 'it’s definitely that one.' I’m beginning to think you just want us to die before the game starts."

Will spun around, scanning the street again like it might suddenly reveal itself if he blinked hard enough. "Look, if we just take one more left—"

"You said that three turns ago. We’ve taken more lefts than a Nascar driver."

"Okay, rude, but fair," Will replied, unbothered, still leading them deeper into architectural nowhere.

Mack sighed deeply, the kind of exhale that carried the weight of regret and frostbite. "I’m never letting you near a map again. Ever."

Will glanced down at his phone and frowned. "Okay... Uber says the nearest ride is thirty minutes away."

Mack inhaled deeply, slowly, and said, "I hate you."

Will patted his shoulder like they were on a sitcom. "You love me."

"In the most begrudging way imaginable."

And then they turned the corner—and walked straight into fate.

Or rather, directly into two unsuspecting women holding coffee cups.

"Oh my god—are you kidding me?!" the taller girl yelped as she stumbled backward, miraculously managing not to spill a single drop of her drink. Her friend, a petite brunette with the sharpest blue eyes Mack had ever seen, caught her arm to steady her and immediately zeroed in on them with an unimpressed look.

"Dude, watch it—Jesus," she said, squinting up at Will and Mack like she was already ranking them on a scale of stupidity.

There was a silence. Not the regular kind. The kind that was drawn out, socially awkward, heavy with the weight of two people realizing they just knocked into two complete strangers while wearing thousand-dollar suits.

Will blinked. Mack looked like he wanted the sidewalk to swallow him whole.

Then Will tilted his head in a very exaggerated, very obvious way. Mack gave him a death glare. Will widened his eyes meaningfully. Mack sighed like a man who had resigned himself to whatever chaos was about to happen.

"Are you guys... having a stroke?" the short one asked, brows raised high.

Will grinned with zero shame. "Slightly. But actually—we were wondering if maybe you were headed near the arena? Like, soon?"

Mack practically hissed, "Dude," under his breath.

The taller girl, who was now regarding them with skeptical eyes, narrowed them even further. "This is a bad idea."

"We’re going to the game anyway," the shorter one—Issy—shrugged. "I mean, if you don’t mind sharing a backseat full of gym bags, thrifted records, and like, three water bottles that may or may not be from last week."

Will clapped his hands like she had just offered him a golden ticket. "You’re angels. Literal angels."

"This is how people get murdered," Mack muttered as they followed the girls toward a tiny hatchback parked nearby.

The inside of Issy’s car was best described as... lived-in. The backseat was an eclectic jungle of bags, clothing, a yoga mat, and something suspiciously glittery. Will, of course, had called shotgun before the door even opened. He was already playing with the aux cord, grinning like he’d won the lottery.

"Issy," he said, dramatically turning to her as she buckled in. "Do you believe in the unifying power of early 2010s pop?"

"Only every day of my life."

Mack climbed into the backseat, folding himself like a pretzel. Ari slid in after him, careful not to knock over the chaos occupying most of the seat.

"Sorry about the mess," she whispered, cheeks already turning pink.

"It’s fine," Mack replied quickly, eyes fixed on the back of the front seat as if avoiding eye contact would help his ears stop burning.

Issy peeled out of the lot like she was trying to qualify for NASCAR. Will screamed.

"DEAR GOD, USE YOUR BLINKER!"

"I LITERALLY DID!"

"THIS IS HOW I DIE!"

In the back, Mack gripped the side handle like a man on a rollercoaster. Ari tried to keep herself steady, but when Issy made a particularly sharp turn, she toppled sideways, colliding gently into Mack’s shoulder.

They both froze.

"S-sorry!" Ari stammered, pulling herself upright with comical speed, only to find her hand accidentally landing on his.

Her fingers touched his.

Time paused.

Her head snapped up, her eyes locked with his, and for a moment, the entire car disappeared. Then she yanked her hand back, face flushed to her ears, and turned to stare at the window like it had personally betrayed her.

Mack, meanwhile, was trying to remember how to breathe.

"You’re bad at directions," Issy said casually, breaking the moment from the front seat.

"You’re bad at driving," Will retorted.

"You screamed when I made a legal U-turn."

"Because you did it in front of a semi!"

Ari let out a soft laugh that warmed something in Mack’s chest. He glanced at her again, and when she looked back at him, they both smiled—shy and slow.

"You guys are something," she murmured.

"That’s one way to put it," he said, voice quiet, amused.

They screeched into the arena parking lot with a minute to spare. The boys practically fell out of the car, straightening their ties and brushing down their suits like they hadn’t just risked their lives for a cup of coffee that never even existed.

Issy leaned out the window, grinning. "You’re welcome for the worst Uber ride of your life."

Will winked. "Five stars. Would almost die again."

Mack turned to Ari, who was brushing crumbs off her lap. "Thanks... for not judging too hard."

She smiled, teasing. "Too late for that."

They laughed. It was quiet, awkward, and warm.

Then, as if coordinated, the boys whipped out their phones.

"Instagram or Snapchat?" Will asked.

"Both," Issy said, already pulling out hers.

Ari blinked. "Wait... are you—"

Will cut her off, voice smug. "If we win tonight, it’s because of this."

Ari rolled her eyes. Mack was still watching her.

She looked away.

He smiled.

The game hadn’t started yet.

But something else had.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The arena buzzed with pre-game energy, a low rumble of chatter and anticipation rippling through the crowd as Arabelle and Issy found their way to their seats. They were a few rows up behind the Kraken bench, with a perfect view of the ice and, more importantly, the chaos that was bound to ensue once the puck dropped. Issy flopped dramatically into her seat, taking a massive sip of her soda before turning toward Ari with a smug grin.

"Sooooo," she sing-songed, eyebrows waggling. "You and the Macklin were pretty cozy back there."

Ari didn’t even look at her. She just rolled her eyes and muttered, "Pretty sure that’s because we were jammed in next to a yoga mat and half your closet."

"Uh-huh," Issy said, all knowing. "I saw the moment. You touched hands. There was eye contact. Blushing."

Ari groaned. "Oh my god, you were watching us? No wonder we were swerving all over the place—you were too busy spying instead of looking at the damn road."

Issy burst out laughing, unapologetic. "Guilty. But seriously. Did you think he was cute?"

Ari hesitated for a second, then sighed. "I mean... yeah. Obviously. He’s gorgeous."

Issy turned, fully facing her now with wide, expectant eyes.

"But he lives in San Jose, Iss," Ari added quickly. "He’s an NHL superstar. I’m just some random girl who gave him and his buddy a ride because they were too dumb to plan ahead. He probably has a thousand girls throwing themselves at him every day. He’s not interested."

Issy snorted, but before she could respond, the lights dropped and the arena erupted in cheers.

The game began, and with each shift, Ari tried to keep her focus on the action—on the Kraken, the fans, anything that wasn’t the fact that every single time Macklin Celebrini skated near the bench, he looked up. And not just a passing glance. It was direct. Intentional. Like he was checking to make sure she was still there.

And every time it happened, Ari felt her cheeks heat up in an embarrassing, impossible-to-ignore way. She’d duck her head, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, but Issy noticed. Of course she noticed.

"He’s looking at you again," Issy whispered.

"Shut up."

"You shut up. I think he just smiled."

"Issy."

"I’m just saying!"

The game ended in a tight 3-2 win for the Kraken, and as the final buzzer sounded, Ari clapped and cheered with everyone else. But there was a little pang of disappointment she wasn’t expecting as Mack disappeared down the tunnel.

"We are not going home yet," Issy declared, grabbing Ari’s hand as they exited the arena. "There’s this bar like two blocks away that always has cheap drinks after home games."

"I’m not even dressed to go out."

"Neither are half the people there. Let’s go."

Ari, too emotionally drained to fight it, followed.

The bar was cozy, crowded, and loud—the kind of place where conversations happened over thumping bass and neon signs. About an hour in, they were nursing cocktails and split fries when the door opened with a gust of cold air and a sudden shift in energy.

A group of men stepped in, all tall, all effortlessly cool in jeans and jackets. And very, very familiar.

"No. Way," Issy whispered, her eyes locked on the door.

"What?"

Issy reached for her phone, typing furiously. "That’s them. That’s like—half the Sharks. Oh my god."

Ari’s stomach flipped as she scanned the group. Sure enough, there was Will, laughing about something, and right behind him—Macklin.

Before she could fully process it, Will spotted them. He grinned, said something to Mack, and the two peeled off from the group, heading straight toward their table like this was totally normal.

Will dropped into the chair next to Issy without hesitation, throwing an arm across the back of it like he belonged there. Mack approached more slowly, still a little cautious, and took the seat next to Ari.

"Hey," he said with a shy smile. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

"Seattle’s a small town," Ari replied, her heart doing somersaults. "Or you’re just following us."

"Maybe a little of both."

Meanwhile, Issy and Will had already descended into a whirlwind of laughter, bickering about music, road trips, and something about cheese fries.

Ari and Mack sat in their own little bubble of quiet. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly effortless yet either. After a few beats, Ari leaned in slightly.

"You played great out there. Sorry you guys lost."

Mack shrugged, smile sheepish. "I knew what I was signing up for when I signed that contract. Sharks are a work in progress."

"Still," she said. "You looked good."

He looked down for a second, then back up at her. "Thanks. That means a lot."

The conversation started to flow from there—easier, looser. They talked about Seattle, about the road schedule, about how exhausting it was to live out of hotel rooms. They talked about Ari’s job, her favorite places to eat in the city, how she used to play rec soccer before an ankle injury sidelined her. Gradually, they leaned in closer, shoulders brushing now and then, smiles wide and easy.

Then—WHACK.

A large hand clapped Macklin’s back, nearly sending him face-first into the table.

"There you guys are!" William Eklund, clearly a drink or two in, leaned heavily on the table. "Come play pool. We need more people. Come onnnn."

Will was already dragging Issy toward the tables before either girl could protest.

"You in?" Mack asked, glancing at Ari.

"I guess I don’t have a choice."

They stood together at a nearby high-top as Will and Eklund went head-to-head in a truly chaotic round of pool. Ari and Mack stayed close, still chatting, their laughter blending easily into the noise around them.

Ari glanced up at him, his face lit by the neon overhead light, smiling in a way that felt entirely too dangerous.

Oh god, she thought. This is not good.

She couldn’t catch feelings for a guy who lived thousands of miles away. Who belonged in a different world. One where cameras followed him, fans adored him, and his time wasn’t really his own. She was just... Ari. A girl with a beat-up car and a spontaneous streak. This couldn’t be anything.

Right?

As the night wound down and the crowd thinned, Mack leaned a little closer, his voice low.

"I really enjoyed getting to know you tonight."

Ari’s breath caught. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, trying to play it cool. "Me too."

Before anything more could be said, Will and Issy reappeared, cheeks flushed from laughing.

"Ugh," Issy groaned. "Why does the night have to end?"

Will turned to the girls. "What are you doing in February? During our All-Star break?"

Ari blinked. "We’re going to Boston. Visiting a few friends. Probably going to the Beanpot."

Will and Mack exchanged a look and smiled.

Ari squinted at them. "Why are you smiling like that? It’s weird."

Mack tilted his head. "We’re going to be in Boston too. Watching the Beanpot."

Issy gasped. "Shut up."

"Seriously?" Ari asked.

Will nodded. "Guess we’ll see you there."

Before the girls could even fully process that, Mack added, "We’re doing a quick golf trip to Arizona the next week too, during the break. You guys should come."

Issy looked at Ari. Ari looked at Issy.

The look said everything: Why not?

They grinned.

"Sure," Ari said. "Why not."

Whatever this was—it was just beginning.

[no1blacksapphirefan]

Hi, can I have a request? If you have time please write Black Sapphire x Protective!fem!Reader who's silly but strong enough to carry him in a bride style and/or always ready to rescue him (in a fight mb) I just wanna see him as our male-wife so bad. Also I love what you write, thank you for your every work♡

Awe thank you so much <33 you guys are too sweet adpngnsp. I hope you enjoy this one anon :3

Black Sapphire doesn't mind it at all, besides it's always entertaining to see cookies assume you aren't strong due to how you act then be able to throw them across the room. He admires it so much. Almost makes him fall in love all over again.

He is not at all opposed to you wanting to carry him, to be honest i see him wanting the princess treatment. Sure, he's happy to give you said treatment as well but he'd love to receive it as well. Besides, he's worked rather hard hasn't he? He deserves to be carried around if he gets a bit too tired (Don't bring up the fact he has his mic he can sit and ride around on)

And oh he loves to see you jump in to protect him if he gets a bit too injured during battle, his knight in shining armour. He's so prideful to have you as his partner and considered himself the luckiest cookie of earthbread

Candy Apple Cookie once finding out how you can easily lift Black Sapphire is quick to ask you to carry her. She mainly does this to annoy Black Sapphire as she knows how much he likes being the one carried.

He loves to see you protective though, not only in fights. Perhaps some cookies are trying to get on his nerves, rile him up, “bully” him. He senses you behind him as you tell them to back off. Yeah he could’ve handled it himself but who doesn’t love their partner stepping in to help?

He’s honestly protective over you too, so while you probably know he’s able to handle himself just fine. He can’t exactly be too mad as, if you were the one being injured he wouldn’t hesitate to step in as well.

Definitely gives you gifts or even cooks food as thanks if you saved him from a particularly bad moment. He can’t let your efforts be unrewarded after all. Also I HC him as an amazing cook so his food will be to die for <33

[haedalkoo]

Hi, pls ignore if this is a dumb question but I've read about the cultural implications of Jungkook calling his hyung Jimin cute. My question is how is it different from him calling any other member cute? For example, in Run BTS ep 123, at around 10:42 he calls Suga cute, I was just wondering what the difference was. Again, pls ignore if this is dumb🙃

Hi! your question isn't dumb at all, no worries!! I think there aren't any real implications to the word cute- as you said, all of bts have called each other cute at some point.

for me it's the word pretty that stands out. korean or not, men are typically raised to not associate such adjectives (pretty, delicate, soft) with other men. in a society with strict definitions of manliness and not widely accepting of homosexuality, it's rare that men a) would call another man pretty and b) would find being called 'pretty' flattering.

now, we know bts are not insecure with their gender expression, they're open minded and i love them for that. i just think that, from all the content i've watched over the years, i've kept hearing jungkook call jimin pretty and cute consistently. his hyungs are cool and handsome (and cute when they're trying to be) but his jimin hyung is pretty. pretty everywhere, from his eyes to his pinkies!

of course, he's also described him as handsome and as 'extremely sexy' (lol) but knowing jimin's journey with his self-expression and his feminine side, i love that jungkook has observed jimin enough to understand which compliments make him feel best about himself. jimin likes feeling pretty, and jungkook doesn't miss the chance to remind him :) i find it sweet. to be loved is to be known.

hope this answers your question!!

[yuurivoice]

A few quick update notes because idk where to conveniently post all of this publicly.

Still mowing through Cameos. I'm about 1/5 of the way through them. Will be working late tonight and tomorrow.

Charlie 4/20 & Bunny Finn Easter probably not happening, or coming later than intended because I've been fighting my brain and body the past week and shit just is not happening on time.

I'm trying to work around scheduled downtime in the coming days as my current booth needs to be disassembled and the new big boy booth is assembled on Thursday. Trying to receive a big ass shipment has also proven complicated, so that's fun!

Other shit still in the pipeline, but maybe there'll be one thing scheduled in the coming days that we can scream about.

Anywho, hell of a time for my shit to go off the rails, this is why I don't like taking commissions at all, even if they're simple...because life happens and I don't like keeping people waiting when my brain and body are so unreliable sometimes.

Most people were able to follow the rules, and those who didn't haven't gone so far out of bounds that I needed to outright reject any of the Cameos, but it definitely does add to the amount of thinking required. The entire reason I went the Cameo message route is because I can pretty easily just see a two sentence prompt and improvise an in-character message covering that subject while keeping it fresh and unique to each character. I literally had someone use the same prompt for three characters and surprise, I could easily give them all a unique vibe without it sounding too similar...hell yeah.

It has largely been a good, fun experience, I just struggle with the sheer mass of all of them (there's 70+ now) and next time I may have to limit the amount of them if there's any hope for me to actually keep turnaround times manageable.

That's a lot of words for what probably sounds like the opposite of a problem (it is a very good problem to have, obviously) but I just wanted folks to know I'm not slapping these on a printing press and churning them out, or reusing sound bytes for similar prompts, etc. Each one is unique and I try to keep a fresh slate in my brain when I tackle them to avoid two people getting a thing that is too similar.

So while yeah, those quick turnaround times were REALLY AMBITIOUS AND UNREALISTIC lol the slower time allows me to do my best and make sure people get a real genuine take out of the character. If I sat down for six hours and did as many as I could, I think by the third hour I would find myself struggling to avoid saying the same shit again and again because many people want similar things. The biggest one, comfort. Because shit is scary and times are hard and a lot of folks feel like they're fighting and fighting and fighting and don't see a light at the end of the tunnel. So I don't want to just...have a bunch of talking points delivered the same way a dozen times within an hour. I want to give y'all something better than that, at least.

Again, the Cameos were an experiment, so I expected some hiccups along the way. It hasn't been bad at all, and it really is nice to be able to give people the exact thing they need to hear at the moment. There's just a lot of it!

Whew. Big yap. Enough procrastination. Thanks for your patience!

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Grower Geto (Suguru Geto x Reader)

MDNI 18+ Smut. 2.5k words ao3 masterlist doodles picks

Honestly I was just thinking about how Suguru Geto is definitely uncut and a grower and how bad I wanna suck him off big style.

warnings: oral m!recieveing, cum play, spit, VERY SHORT, some begging, geor swinging back and forth between being in charge and being pathetic, he’s my secret lover in my head, like Nanami-kishibe-Choso that’s my main roster but Suguru…my dirty little secret.

Suguru isn't an arrogant man. He doesn't show off, he’s not cocky, he doesn't need to be flashy. He has always let his abilities and talents speak for themselves. Why would he expend additional energy into manufacturing scenarios to be marveled at, like others may?

That’s why it shouldn’t have been shocking the first time you reached into his lap, between your bodies just breaths apart and finding less than what you expected. It was rude of you to hesitate, you knew it, but you were surprised, everything else about him was so…big. His hands, his back and shoulders, his long, beautifully built legs. You expected a bit more, and you immediately chastised yourself for doing so. Surely, size wasn’t going to matter to you. Not with him. He was so sexy, effortlessly sexy, and who were you to doubt him?

Geto separated your mouths, one big hand on your shoulder holding you in place. He said nothing, just looked you over, surveying the shine of spit he left behind on your mouth and chin, the hazy, lustful look in your face that the confusion in your eyes juxtaposed. His head cocked to the side, the wave of black hair behind him flowing in the same arc. You looked so flustered, so desperate below him.

“What is it, baby?” He couldn't hold back the smile that was spreading across his face.

"Nothing I--nothing!" You leaned back in to kiss him again, feeling squirmy and embarrassed.

You didn't want him to feel like you were disappointed--not that you were disappointed! You were sure it was perfectly workable. More than that even, probably amazing! and who even cares about that, it's how you use it, not how big it is! He clicked his tongue, holding you firm in place, using one long, thick fingers to move a bit of hair off your face.

"Not what you expected, huh?" His voice was so smooth, so uninhibited by shame.

No, the shame was all for you. You had absorbed all the shame in the world and could feel it burning at your throat, trying to claw out apologies before you dared speak against him again.

"I didn't! Expect anything, I mean. I just--" You couldn’t find the right words, he was looking at you so closely, his smell was so overpowering and the heat between you was making your head feel light and your mouth water.

He was so cool and clear and composed, in contrast you felt muddy and intoxicated and messy. Geto brought his hand to your face again, the heat of his skin making your shame warmed cheek feel balmy. His dark eyes looked over you closely, the trembling lips, your wide searching eyes. How sweet. He leaned forward bringing the tip of his nose past yours, your lips barely touching, brushing together as he spoke.

"You don't really think I'd let you down, do you?" He wrapped you in a hungry kiss once again, long, hot tongue sliding against yours, overpowering your hungry mouth.

His kiss was electrifying, he moved his hands over your waist, slipping under your shirt, moving up to feel your back’s musculature. You followed suit, digging your fingertips into his warm skin, pulling him closer to you, wrapping your legs over his hips. He rocks your bodies together as you both shed your shirts, skin now against skin, sweat commingling, breath recycling. He moved his lips down your chin to your neck, his teeth showing themselves just enough to make you gasp. Geto’s hand found the button of your pants, unfastening them and pushing inside. His fingers traced your lips through your thin panties. You slipped your hand under his waistline, feeling the back turn to waist turn to hip.

You could barely speak through the huffs and moans he was pulling for you, the joint stimulation at your neck and pussy driving you wild.

“O-off.” You requested having trouble getting his trousers off his hips.

“So eager…” He mocked, voice humid and wet next to your ear, making you shiver.

You nodded your head, reaching for more of him. You whined as his hand left your panties, and you whined again as he rolled his eyes at your desperation. He pulled his pants off his legs, you followed, shimmying out of your own, leaving both of you in just your underwear. You could look his body over now, the clean, clear tanned skin, the tattoo on his hip he swears no one knows about, the barely present red lines that you had made with your fingers. He gripped himself through his boxers, feeling himself getting harder, swelling. He looked at your panting, desperate body heaving for him, a pulse shot through his groin, pinballing up and down his spine.

“Fuck, spread your legs.” He instructed, you obeyed.

He could see the curve of your pussy, the seam in between, where the wetness had made the fabric cling, revealing even more of your specific complexity. You watched him drool over you, your chest burned with pride. Feeling emboldened by his gawking, you trailed a finger down your body, tracing the slit that he seemed mesmerized by.

“Suguru…I need you.” You whined, moaning out the sound of his name, savouring every syllable.

He smiled, his perfect, devious smile that had been the reason you crawled into his bed in the first place. He reached to follow your fingers trail, feeling the wetness that soaked past the fabric wet his fingertip. He brought it to his mouth, relishing the taste of you. Geto encases your wandering hand in his own, bringing it to the front of his boxers, sliding your hand along his length which had…expanded. Your mouth grew wet, drool slipped past the edge of your mouth, you couldn't help it.

“This what you need? Hm?” He mocked you, watching how you salivated over the feel of him.

You nodded, the show he was putting on in front of you making you leak, you didn’t know how much longer you could take it.

“Go on, baby, take it.”

You were quick to your knees, slotting in between his legs. He let go of your hand, letting you decide where and how to touch him. Your droopy mouth pulled you forward, running your tongue along the lengthened, fabric covered shaft. You could feel the heat, the weight, you wanted it on you, in you, in your mouth, in your pussy, against your face, against your palm. You run your cheek against the spit stripe that you had just made. The hot, growing muscle against the fevered skin of your cheek sending you further into your fantasies of exactly what he would do to you.

Geto couldn’t help the moan you pulled from him. The sight of your lapping at him, rubbing against him through his boxers was almost enough to make him cum already. He was growing, he would be at full mast soon. He bit back the plea of mercy on his tongue, opting to clench his hands together, needing to see how you proceeded.

Finally, your dizzy brain urges you to the next step. You lace your fingers into the waistband of his underwear, peeling them off his hips, watching the topography of his body change. Smooth, tanned skin growing lighter, the sun not having seen as much as you were about to. The softer hues contrasted against dark, coarse hair at the base of his pelvis, manicured and maintained to precision. Finally his boxers have no more footholds and then fall from your hands, limp at his feet, forgotten, ignored in favor of the gorgeous, dream worthy, drip worthy cock in front of you. Long, six or seven inches at least, thick in the center, tapering slightly at the base and tip, a drool inducing curve to the left. Uncut, a pearl of precum dripping past his foreskin. Just as gorgeous as the rest of him. You should have known. You take him into your hand, encircling the full girth and bringing it close to your mouth, and give his tip a sweet lick, feeling the shaft pulse in time. The precum is sweet and sour on your tongue, and you have to taste it again. This time you pull it into your mouth, closing around it in a soft suck.

His stomach clenches, fighting to stay steady rather than thrusting in completely, he wants to see how you take it first. The look on your face when he's full and ready for you. You circle your tongue around the head, using your hand to pull the foreskin back and stimulate the rest of him while you focus on the most sensitive part. Pulling off him for a breath, you're quick to return to your work, taking more inches inside, feeling him prod at the back of your throat. He lets out a throaty moan above you, his grip on your hair tightening but not pushing or pulling, just holding you, letting you lead the dance.

You spit and drool, using the saliva and your hand to get the rest of his cock wet, when you pull back to admire your work you see he's grown, tip coming free from its confines, even thicker in the middle, longer, definitely. You look up at him in shock and delight.

“Told you I wouldn’t disappoint.” He moves the hair holding hand down your face giving you a soft tap on the cheek for doubting him.

You can’t help but giggle in delight, the building ache in your knees out of your mind. His hand on your face makes you drip onto the floor below you. You take him further, now locked into a game of how deep you can take him versus how much more he can grow for you. Every pump feels wider and deeper, but your bob your head all the same, trying to taste as much of him, make him feel your artistry in every centimeter. The sloppiness of your mouth proves beneficial as he grows more, he must have grown nearly three inches since you began. Delicious, rock hard inches that the more you take, the louder and prettier his sounds become.

“Yes baby, deeper. Please.”

You slurped more of him inside, running your tongue along the full, pulsating vein along the underside of his shaft. You bobbed your head more, taking in as much as you could and pulling out for haughty, deep breaths. Swirling your tongue around the newly uncovered tip, you moved your hand underneath to cup his full, heavy balls. He tugged on your hair, his hips shuttering against your lips.

“Careful baby,” He warns, feeling himself getting close, all too close.

But the wet, warm cavern of your mouth suctioned around him was too much. Suguru could feel himself twitching, he scraped his nails across your scalp. Your eyes fluttered as he hit the back of your throat, you looked up at him with thick, wet lashes. And he couldn’t stop himself, he pulled at your hair, pulling it back, releasing himself from your mouth.

You whine, pulling at his hips, but he swats at your hand, squeezing himself at the base, now fully erect, leaking already, begging to continue. He panted, leaning his head back so you could see the bob of his Adam's apple, the flexing muscles of his neck, the sweat shining against the lamp lights. Watching him huff into the dark of the room, you put your hands on him again, grabbing at his hips, raking your nails down the fine skin.

He wants to tell you to stop, that if he cums now he can’t cum inside you, and fuck does he want to cum inside you. He wants to feel you clench and tremble around him, to feel himself changing your make up, your shape. But when you slide your tongue around him so kindly, you suck him in further into your soft mouth, he can’t tell you no. It feels too good, he can’t help his own selfishness, his own indulgence.

You have him. You know you have him, the way he’s panting above you, biting his lips, trying to stifle the haughty, pathetic moans fighting to spill out. You pump and circle your hand in time with the way your tongue laps and circles his desperate, leaking tip. You don’t miss the way he grips the edge below him, the crack of his voice as your name rips through his chest. Your eyes are closed, giving your full focuse to the task at hand, and mouth, and tongue.

“Fuck” he whines, the duet of your ministrations making his heart pound and the cramping electricity underneath him spark again.

Giving your jaw, and Geto, a break, you palm over his tip again and again, faster than you could with your mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to stop the babbling moans coming from him. Your name, various pet names that you knew or he had never tried before, he was giving you ever title in the book. How generous of him. Not to grow lazy, your mouth still works underneath him, circling each ball, lapping at the thin skin and at the way he brings a hand down onto your shoulder. He wants you to finish him off, to stop, for the teasing to be over, to cum. He wants it so badly he can’t see, his eyes may be permanently closed. What a horrible world to imagine, without those beautiful violet eyes to take it in. You couldn’t have any part on the creation of such a world.

So you give.

You resume the work with your hand and your tongue in time. Circling over him, tasting the early dregs of his release. Savoring each note.

“Let me see it.” Is the last thing he manages before the shock is sent through his whole body.

Rippling up his arms, down his legs, knocking his head backward, screwing his stomach tight. His whole body rocks, pushing himself further into your mouth. You let your jaw go slack, letting him drive himself past the finish, take what he needs from you. He keeps one had at the base of your neck, holding you in place, the other can’t seem to decide where to land, your cheek, your jaw, thumbing at your bruised lips. He lets his eyes open to meet yours already watching him, small tears welling at the corners but an open, slack jawed smile. He feels his chest burn with pride, watching as you let him fuck your face. His hips stutter with the spurts of cum. He has to look away from you, throwing his head back again, moaning up into the dark.

His hips thrust into your mouth again and again, purse desire pistoning his hips. When he finally looks back down to you, your mouth is still closed over the head of his cock. Obeying him so perfectly already, he steadies his breath.

“Open” his hand finds a home now, cupping your cheek, cooing down to you.

You open your mouth around him, showing him the collection of his milky white cum you had held in place on your tongue for him. He marvels at your depravity, at the small bubbles of breath breaking through the silken surface. The sight alone pulls another line of cum from him, merging with the concoction in your mouth. He runs his thumb over your lip, wet and sticky. Beautiful, swollen, generous lips fully and plump. He can’t stop looking at you.

“Swallow it.” He commits the sight to memory, keeping it for himself forever.

You close your mouth, tasting him even closer, swallowing it down, feeling it move all the way down your throat, any sore parts smoothed and salved. You look up at him again, panting in time together. Without the hedonistic decadence to occupy your mind, the joints of your knees began to demand leniency. You shifted under him, feeling the air of the room grow cold against your skin, starting to feel bare under his gaze.

He joins you on the floor, pulling you in to kiss him again. His tongue diving forward to taste any lingering taste of himself on you. Your mouth, having worked so hard, is so willing to open and let him lead you through the kiss. Suguru pulls you close to him, feeling your body, wanting to return you kindnesses. Hebrings a hand to your chest, palming at your peaked breasts, kissing down your neck. Laying you back onto the floor, he knocks your knees apart, moving his fingers down the sensitive skin of your thighs. He slides his lips and tongue down your body, tasting the dewy sweat on your skin as he retreats. You shudder between him and the floor justified by how quickly he has moved on. Suguru moves so his shoulders are end capped by your legs, looking down to the sopping, wet mess between your legs.

“My turn.” Geto pulls two fingers into his mouth.

[poppypirate]

I'm listening to lady carfax part 3 again, and some follow-up ruminating...

1. The argument is INCREDIBLE in terms of character revelations and development, though I tear up every time I think about it. I feel like this was the healthiest representation of how hard being Sherlock is for Sherlock, and the fact that Watson is always there, constantly dealing with it, while trying to be true to himself

3. Sherlock's rant about addiction definitely seems to colour his frustration at the case, but he isn't ranting ABOUT addiction - he's mad at the way Penny's creditors and lenders were, in a way, exploiting her very harmful vulnerability for their gain. And that is a very interesting new dimension, because I wonder if Sherlock is speaking from experience and has been taken advantage of before? It's very typical of Holmes to have a soft spot for the "weak," but still, I'm just very curious about Sherlock's life before he met John (and about his relationship with Lestrade!) and I wonder if this has anything to do with it

4. The ups and downs in poor John's character growth are killing me because it keeps making me dread that the Final Problem is drawing closer, and I'd much rather pretend that particular elephant in the room didn't exist. Because like, John's silliness was getting to me till the last episode, but at least he was happier and more secure than ever. But now, with the arguments reigniting his insecurities, and the reference to people who loved him always dying in the past, the reinforcement that Sherlock really loves loves him, and then that dAMN VOICENOTE... JUST KILL ME WONT YOU

5. Is that Indian classical fusion music I hear in the background at the Egypt cafe :))

6. I listened to them making up like five times in a row and I'm sobbing dont ask whats wrong with me I don't know

7. John showing a bit of his bamf side when they're confronting Peters is giving me life. Also Sherlock has such a good criminal-threatening voice jesus (its hot im sorry)

8. The voicenote made me cry again. Also idk if im reading too much into this, but the final sound is that of a door closing and i dont like it. I just do not want John having any more voicenotes from people he loves wasnt sign of four enough