#absolute sweethearts

[wyvernspirit]

I know most people want gentleman Husk to Angel

But I would like to argue back that gentleman Angel?? Kissing Husks knuckle after he gives him a drink? Making him a fully homemade (Italian) dinner with drinks? So many ideas I have

(the superior answer is that it's both of them in different ways at different times and everyone around them is honestly jealous) ((and wants them to finally kiss god dammit))

[fadeintolight]

[shikai-the-storyteller]

[swordofthornss]

My partner is so autistic that I tried eye contact as a punishment once during sex and they had to safe word

[royalarchivist]

This bit from Jaiden's Miku video reminds me of an old conversation (and a funny / sweet moment) she had with Roier and Mariana on QSMP.

[ Full Clip + Transcript ]

[satoruxx]

i think it’s so funny how suguru gets injured on a mission and then brushes off every attempt you make to care for him. he could quite literally be bleeding out in front of you but still he’s got that stupidly indulgent smile on his face as he tucks your hair behind your ear to see your furrowed brows clearly.

“it’s not a big deal. i promise,” he’ll sigh every time, and you’ll always huff in response.

(because he’s so ridiculous? almost dying and telling you that it’s not that bad.)

“yes it is!” you groan and then you’re fussing over his injuries—and all he can do is show you that same silly helpless smile.

he’s always telling you that it’s not serious—that injuries are nothing to worry about.

but then you get injured on a mission and it completely flips. suguru is all over you, worry so palpable as he takes your face in his palms and lets his eyes rove over your features.

you do the same thing he does—tell him it’s nothing too crazy and that you’re fine and it isn’t something to be so worried about.

(it really isn’t.)

but he never listens, never cares. one little scrape and he’s panicked. he physically will not let you out of his sight.

and when you call him out for it, cheekily grinning as you chuckle, he just sighs and shakes his head because he knows you’re right. he has no intention of stopping though.

what a hypocrite.

[fluffylino]

hyunjin takes charge when you feel down. (very soft i promise)

-contains mature themes

he was cuddled up by your side.

hidden under the sheets. head resting on your chest. while you scrolled through your phone. his index finger tracing your hip lazily.

your eyes glued to your phone. if you looked at hyunjin you'd probably end up crying. he loved you so much. even more than yourself. you'd look at him and feel like it was only the two of you.

he looked up at you, inches away from your face. letting out a small sound for you to look.

"mhm?" you hummed, smiling a little at how dazed he looked.

eyes soft and lips jutting out into a pout. you pecked him. a small smile appearing on his face. nudging his nose against your cheek.

you could feel his eyes on you. the reel you were watching making you giggle. until you felt that sadness within you disappear.

what were you even doing with your life? everything was becoming too much. you weren't living life. you were surviving.

"mommy" hyunjin mumbled, hiding his face in your chest.

breaking you out of your thoughts. you weren't feeling like yourself. you wanted to be taken care of. today.

you were vulnerable.

heart aching with tiredness. you hummed, holding your phone with one hand. using your right hand to stroke his head. untangling a few strands carefully.

"can i?"

how could you deny him when he asked so softly. voice stuck in his throat. you nodded. letting him slowly push your shirt up.

a small whine leaving him at the sight.

laying back down. mouthing at your exposed chest. his other hand coming up to hold your right boob. tongue laving over your hardening nub. you sighed. finally keeping your phone down.

all his attention on you.

"hard" he whispered. very carefully grinding his covered length against your thigh that was slotted there.

"j-jinnie" you whimpered. mind going fuzzy.

you missed him. even though he was so close. you wanted him closer. feeling extra submissive. his face lifting up to look at you with such kind eyes. you felt like you were going to start crying.

he seemed to understand.

he always understood.

"daddy will take care of you" he reassured, moving upwards to kiss you. holding your face as tears fell down.

kissing them away as you closed your eyes. all your worries sinking away.

"s-sorry" you whispered. what if he wanted you to take care of him.

"nothing to be sorry about, my love" he mumbled against your lips.

"tell me what you want"

you didn't know what you wanted from him. you wanted all of him. seeing him satisfied made you feel better.

"jerk you off?" you asked.

closing your eyes while he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. he hummed, shuffling around so he could still hold you.

his leg thrown over your waist. pulling his pants down just enough.

you watched silently. his length slipping out. tip rubbing against the side of your thigh.

you hadn't even realised you zoned out. that was until he gently held your hand.

making you wrap your fingers around his cock. his own hand engulfing yours as he guided your movements.

starting off slow. with long strokes.

"you did well today baby" laying soft kisses to your neck.

"ah- so proud of you" you let yourself sink into his grasp. your hold on his dick getting more firm. pumping him more eagerly.

you puckered your lips, wanting him to kiss you till you couldn't breathe. and so he did. lips pressed against yours.

intentionally you swiped your thumb over his sensitive head, precum wetting it.

"d-don't tease, my love" you stopped your tricks, letting him enjoy.

"you're my beautiful s-smart baby" you whined, pulling away to look at where you were pumping him. his own hand next to yours.

so much bigger.

"want my fingers?" you shook your head, keeping your mouth open. as he moved his hand off his dick. now you were in charge of making him cum. his index and middle finger sliding right in.

you moaned at the feeling of his digits.

"want me to cum all over your stomach?" you nodded, ignoring the drool that had dripped down his wrist.

your grip on him growing tighter as you stroked him fast. breathy whines leaving his lips. he was getting so close. you knew it. you could feel it from the way his dick throbbed in your hand. his hips moving unconciously to match your pace.

he gradually sat up. nipping at your stomach. eyes shut tight.

it all happened so fast. his cum spurting out over you. staining you.

riding out his orgasm. he let out a heavy breath, leaning down to lick his cum off of you. before kissing you. groaning at the taste of him.

"mommy did so well"

[hawkinsbnbg]

Eddie: Why looking so sad, big boy?

Steve, sighing: It's just so hard to find an alpha who’s willing to get me pregnant these days :(

Eddie, an alpha who had disguised as a beta for years: …

Eddie: Listen, this might be a total surprise but I can actually re-present right now—

[mintytea-exe]

tma is so funny because its effectively:

diversity win! the antichrist who ended the world is biromantic asexual!!

[teddybeartoji]

it's not often you get to see a sleepy suguru.

it's not like he's not tired – he's fucking exhausted; the dreams just don't seem to like him all that much. but he's usually toughing it out, trying to seem as composed and put-together as possible. the dark skin underneath his eyes betray him, though.

so you don't really know why today is different. is he just more tired? have all of the sleepless hours caught up with him? or is it just you; could it be that your body is the most comfortable place to rest his heavy head? or is it your perfume that's soothing him to sleep?

or is it the fingers in his hair?

he doesn't really let others play with his hair too ofter either. satoru and shoko had been the only exceptions but that was before you came along. satoru uses his hair as a stim, something to play with when he's bored. suguru has taught him manners though – a few slaps against satoru's fingers and chest to remind him to be more careful. and shoko is just more likely to brush a strand from his eyes or help him tie them up in a half-assed bun whenever his own hands are full with whatever.

you like playing with hair, always have and always will. it's relaxing and it's fun and it's calming and you love it. when you first met suguru, his hair was the second thing you noticed about him (his keen purple eyes being the first). an irresistible itch burned in your fingertips everytime you saw him, everytime he wore his hair down. it just looked so pretty and soft.

he takes very good care of his hair, you know that much. specific shampoos and conditioners, masks and all – he's all in. and nobody bats an eye. not that they should but satoru definitely gets made fun of because of his stupidly expensive collection of figurines and shoko gets teased for her silly mug shelf – and yet, neither of them ever comment on the bottles and tubs of fancy products that lay on his bathroom counter.

his hair also smells good. the compliment always hangs on the tip of your tongue but stays hidden in fear of coming off too weird. too creepy. but he doesn smell good. even with closed eyes and ears and you'd find him in a crowd. you wonder whether he knows that.

as you grew closer and closer, the now scorching itch only doubled in need. you never did gather the strenght to outwardly ask him – if you could play with his hair? if you could caress it? comb through it? it was an accident.

a simple gloomy friday afternoon: you're both lazing on your couch, staring at the screen. it's funny – you find yourself muffling your already quiet bursts of laughter, suguru alongside you. he's sitting close by, closer than usual. you don't ask him about it.

he asked to come over; something-something about being sick of his own apartment. you understand that, so you tell him that your home is his home (you'd tell him that even if you didn't understand). you hear the faint smile when he thanks you over the phone.

even when he looks like he hasn't slept in months – he looks good. you can tell he's overexaggerating his smile a bit but don't say anything about it, rewarding him with a grin of your own. his eyes flick to your lips and how they curve and he thinks about how warm it feels to look at you. maybe he's not exaggerating anymore.

your arms open wide, inviting him into you and he obliges, as always. he smells good. as always.

his hands lock behind your back and your behind his neck. your hearts meet and they greet each other with a fastened beat, eager to be in sync – to feel each other again.

he pulls back and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. he's not doing it anymore and you're happy to relieve him even if it's for mere moments.

he's wearing a sweather and his hair is down. he has lip gloss on; you try to think whether he's more of a mint guy or more of a shea guy. it remains a mystery.

and now you're on the couch with two cups of warm tea waiting for you on the small table. he smells good. he's so close. he snickers at the screen and you can't take your eyes off of him. it's the same small crinkle of the eyes and the faintest pink tint on his cheeks.

you know he knows that you're looking at him. you've been told to have a staring problem and he's just an observant guy. it's a terrible match. or a perfect one.

he doesn't say anything though; instead he leans his head back and little to the side against the headrest (he's even closer now) and you find yourself shifting an inch aswell. perhaps magnets are involved? the iron in your blood pulling you together?

no, that can't be. you'd have to be polar opposites for that to work. warm-blooded and cold-blooded? would that work? you're getting too poetic and he's looking at you now.

it's an accident. it slips out on its own. you smell good. caught off guard by your own comment, you're about to apologize when a hand on your thigh almost makes you suffocate on the words stuck in your throat.

he laughs and it feels so good. he thanks you. he means it, you see it in his tired eyes. he likes the way you blush.

turning his focus back to the tv, you try to collect yourself. a deep breath in and a deep one out and a deep one in and a de—

a weight on your shoulder. he smells so good. he's so close. you peek down, curious as to whether this is a dream or not. but suguru's head is in fact laid on your body, sinking a bit more into you by the second. a deep breath in and a deep one out.

seeking for a more comfortable position, you snuggle closer to him. it's hard to focus but you're making it your sole mission to make him feel safe. your arm curls around his body, his shoulder, and rests right by a flock of his hair.

his cheek is now smushed against the top of your chest and the weight of love doesn't seem as bad as everyone keeps telling you. his hand finds a place around your waist; loosely – as if he's the one who's afraid to scare you off. silly.

his breath against you feels right and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. so you do what you always do when you get nervous – completely on their own, your fingers caress his hair. just smoothing over it at first but before you know it, they're combing through a strand and twirling the ends between themselves.

you wanna apologize, again, but the soft little grunt that emits from the man keeps you from doing so.

don't stop.

+ this is for @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat just bc it feels right

[dinemunyu]

bYEE i spent way too long on this

I don't own any of the assets used in rebuilding the town and the ui—nah, that's the great work of ConcernedApe. I just merely made two extra buildings to look similar enough to the other buildings in town.

Why stardew though??? idk i couldn't sleep one night and instead detailed out the steps on how I would do this with unity and aseprite because of course I'm still thinking about trigun 24/7; only this time I've recently started playing stardew.

wanted to add Nai, Livio and the rest of the cast but i wanna work on keychains next sooooo

Nai works in the library where books are less likely to offend him. Livio helps around the orphanage. Vash likes to garden and to visit the bakery next door in his free time. Kinda want Zazie to be an absolute menace of a niece that got sent there under their care.

[fiiiiin]

Dagger Squad hanging out at a bar and Jake is uncharacteristically quiet and docile but clearly GLOWING and happy; he’s calmly chatting with Javy in the corner all smiles and no snark while the rest of the team watch from across the bar; Phoenix asks “what happened to his attitude?” and Bradley smirks and goes “fucked it out of him” and the whole team does a double take not because they didn’t predict it but just because Bradley was so blunt about it

[dasiesanddarkness]

Wylan Van Eck is the definition of "matches energy"

[jayktoralldaylong]

"MelJayVik can never work."

Just say you're weak and you hate challenges. 🙄

Also, what challenge? The SECOND Mel understood just how much Jayce cared about Viktor, she was LOCKED IN. My girl had no hesitation.

"We will find Viktor." "Don't worry Jayce, he will come back to us."

Don't play with my girl Mel, her mother is Ambessa, the flexibility was built into her genes. 💀🔥

[cosmicdreamgrl]

hyung line x lys solos for @rjshope [ cr : namuspromised ]

[kentsjohnson91]

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧ʷˢ²

in which will's arm becomes your canvas in the moments you need it most.

warnings; anxiety, bullying (pre-school), BRIEF mention of parents fighting, but other than that, pure fluff. if you can think of others, please don't hesitate to let me know!

You had met Will Smith in pre-school. On the first day that you had stepped inside the classroom, you had been captivated by his blond hair and blue eyes. His hair had been neatly cut, safely tucked behind his ears, while his eyes matched perfectly with his charming smile. Even at four years old, he had you wrapped around his finger.

You didn't get the chance to talk to him, however, until the winter of that school year. You had always been the anxious type, finding it hard to reach out and speak to your classmates. So, you didn't. Ultimately, that led to a group of boys catching you on the slide, alone, during recess one day. It was a typical Massachusetts day for that time of year - a white blanket of snow enveloped the state, and the ice on the ground was as smooth as glass. But in that moment, none of that had mattered. A brown-haired boy in the group had approached first, asking the question everyone wanted to know the answer to.

"Why don't you talk?"

Those words stung. It wasn't like you didn't want to. It just felt like your mouth was zipped shut and someone had thrown out the key to unlock it every time you tried to speak.

So, naturally, you didn't answer.

A few moments later, another boy stepped forward, "Aww, is the little baby too afraid to speak?"

You took a deep breath, trying to gather yourself, but it was clear that you weren't going to get out of this one easily. Despite your observation, you carefully hopped off of the slide you were perched on and turned your back to the boys as you attempted to walk away. You had only made it a few steps when you felt a hard shove from behind - one that made you fall face first onto the ground. Your face burrowed itself into the thick layer of snow that had blanketed the ground, the cold powder stinging your face. You tried to burrow into the safety of your heavy winter coat, but not even that worked.

You could hear the muffled laughs of the boys behind you, one shouting, "Mute freak!" and the other shouting, "Scaredy-cat!" Suddenly, however, a third voice had joined the conversation. The voice was both recognizable and unrecognizable to you, both comforting yet oddly familiar. That was enough for you to gather the strength to look up from the ground.

"Leave her alone!"

It was Will.

His neatly-trimmed blond hair had grown shaggy over time, the wisps of it curling at the nape of his neck. A white winter hat was covering the rest, but you could almost see the way it was curled at the top of his head. A flame of anger was dancing in his usually icy blue eyes, and his smile was no longer charming, only frustrated.

He shoved the two boys back, but not hard enough for them to fall to the ground. That didn’t matter, however. Will had the upper hand - he had a few inches on both of the boys, which meant that in their eyes, he towered over them. Without any other words being spoken, the two boys ran off in fear, occasionally looking back only to find Will glaring at them as he carefully walked over to you.

As he approached you, he offered a compassionate smile, one that would’ve made you feel better if your face wasn’t going numb from the snow. He grabbed your hands and helped you sit up, his gloved hands immediately going to gently brush the snow off of your face.

You flinched in surprise, but the soft material felt comforting against your rosy cheeks. He glanced at you as if to ask if it was okay for him to continue, and you nodded softly. Once he was done, he wiped his snow-covered gloves on the material of his puffy coat - no doubt one his mom made him wear - and offered a gentle hand to help you up off of the ground.

“I’m William, but I go by Will,” he smiled, his hand lingering in yours until he knew for sure that you were safely off of the ground. When he let go, your hands immediately went to fumble with the hem of your hoodie in both anxiety and relief.

You weren’t sure what, but something washed over you, and timidly yet undoubtedly, you raised your voice.

“I’m Y/N.”

And that was the first time you talked to one of your classmates. That classmate just happened to be Will Smith.

As the year went on, you and Will grew inseparable. He continued to be the only classmate you talked to, but he didn't seem to mind. Everyone around you wondered why Will received your special treatment, but the truth of the matter was that he was the only one who made you feel safe. He never judged you for your anxiety, but instead welcomed it because even at four years old, he knew it was apart of you.

Later in spring, you were having a particularly bad day when Will handed you a pack of markers. He had recently turned five, a milestone you were still waiting on, and he received the package of colored ink as one of his gifts. He opened the table's cubby to reveal some coloring books, but as he placed them down, he felt your hand grab his wrist.

Without a word, you had taken the cap off of a light blue marker and began drawing a flower on his skin. Will hesitated for a moment, but when he took sight of your face, he could see the way your eyes visibly drained of worry as you traced the ink. So, naturally, he continued to let you do it.

Little did you know that that tradition would last for fourteen years.

Even at 19, the tradition of drawing on Will’s skin had become second nature, something neither of you ever questioned anymore. He constantly had markings on his skin from you, but he didn’t mind. It was a quiet way for you to find your balance in waves of emotions and for him to remind you that you were never alone.

It had been a long day for you. You had come over after a family dinner that had left your nerves frayed, your usual quietness amplified to the point that Will could tell something was wrong the second you walked in. Now, hours later, you sat on his bed, your legs cocooned into your chest as if that would provide you with any sense of comfort. Your mind was racing with more bad thoughts than good. The faint glow of “Ratatouille” illuminated the room through the screen of Will’s laptop, but neither of you seemed too interested.

Will glanced at you, catching the way your knees were pulled up to your chest, your fingers picking at the hem of your sweatshirt like they had the first time he met you. Without a word, he reached over to his desk, opened his top drawer, and grabbed the same pack of markers that had been sitting there since you were kids — the ones he had received for his 5th birthday — and held them out to you.

You glanced up at him slowly, your eyes meeting his blue ones. The flames of worry dancing in them almost matched the yellow marker you had grabbed from him. Will leaned back against his headboard, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence but not the calm.

With the marker in your hand, you forced arm down until his wrist was stretched out in your lap. You were focused, your brow furrowed in that familiar way as you worked on filling the empty space of his skin with tiny, intricate designs.

You didn’t look up, the marker stilling for only a second before continuing its careful strokes. “Just thinking,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the scratch of ink against his skin. Will sighed softly, gently grabbing your chin with his free hand to get you to look at him.

“About what?”

You hesitated, your hand pausing again. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and for a moment, you looked like you might change the subject. But then you sighed and went back to drawing, your voice low, “Dreams, I guess. The future. If my parents stop fighting. If I’ll ever feel… well, less like this.”

Will didn’t need to ask what this meant. He’d been your best friend long enough to know—this was the restlessness, the anxiety, the weight you carried in moments like these. Hell, it was the weight you carried all the time. He watched as you traced another flower on his wrist, your hand steady despite the storm you clearly felt inside.

His heart broke, but he didn’t falter.

“You will,” he said simply, the steadiness in his voice making you chuckle slightly.

Your lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “You make it sound easy.”

Will smiled softly, the compassion he’d always held for you radiating through him, “It’s not. But you’ll get there,” he said, leaning forward just enough so that your knees touched. “And until then, you can keep putting your dreams on me.” He tilted his head, gesturing toward the growing garden of flowers and stars you were creating.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound warming the room. It was the first time Will had heard you laugh all day, “Dreams?“

Will shook his head, his grin small but sincere, “These are the outlines of what’s in your head, Y/N/N — your dreams, your worries, all of it. You’ve been doing it since we were five years old.”

You laughed, your eyes meeting his again, “But what makes you think they’re my dreams?”

“They constantly change,” he explained, a wisp of his blond curls falling in front of his eyes. He looked exactly like the four year old you had met on the playground that winter day. “When we were six, you drew rocket ships because all you wanted was to be an astronaut. And when we were 11, I constantly had drawings of cats and dogs on my wrists because you wanted to be a veterinarian. And last year, you drew the Boston College logo over and over again because you wanted me to be happy at B.C.”

“And what about my worries?”

“They remain more steady, but I don’t mind carrying them for awhile,” he whispered softly, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Your marker stilled, and for a moment, you just looked at him, your chest feeling a little lighter in a way only Will could manage. Then, with a soft smile, you added one last detail to the sunflower you’d been working on—a tiny heart at the center.

“You’re so corny,” you said, placing his arm back in his lap.

Will smirked, lifting it to admire your work, “And you’re the one who just drew a heart. Who’s corny now?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out. You tucked your legs under you, leaning back against the headboard beside him. He might’ve been corny, but he meant more to you than you could ever know,“You’ll always be my favorite sketchbook, you know.”

Will nudged your shoulder lightly, the marker still in his other hand, “And you’ll always be a flower on my skin.”

Neither of you said anything else after that, the room settling into a comfortable silence. But the outlines of your dreams stayed etched on Will’s arm, just like they always would.

a/n; this might be one of my favorite works that i’ve ever written. i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did!