“Chan Is Your Hand Heavy? ‘Cause I Can Hold It For You.“ Yeah, Sure!

no but why can’t tsukishima be a hopeless romantic. why can’t akaashi be an idiot in love. why can’t oikawa love someone selflessly. why cant kuroo be blushy and shy when you tell him you love him. why can’t atsumu be a giver, why can’t ushijima leave you cute notes with bad drawings for footnotes, why can’t tendou have soft hands and gentle words. why are these characters spread so thin. why are they so often only boring or mean or bland or bad at love in fanon. who said writing them purely in love, soft and sweet, means writing them out of character. why cant they be sweet boys. why not. 

“you left the door unlocked?” atsumu calls out to you the second he enters your apartment, heavy bags of laundry and groceries occupying his arms, and with another second, you meet him in the kitchen.

“oh hey!” you chime, “you’re home!”

and atsumu looks at you, “you left the door unlocked!”

“it’s a safe neighborhood.” you shrug, tittering as you ignore his antics, and you walk over closer to him to welcome him home.

it’s been a long day without atsumu — he has his volleyball career and you have your college, but even after all that, he is still your husband, and it’s only right that you get to miss him.

atsumu settles down the bags he carried on the kitchen counter, a hand on his hip, and he turns your hug away.

he tells you, “what if a psychopathic maniac walked in?”

“well, then i would’ve said; hi tsumu, how was your day?” you smile, rolling your eyes at his chattering, and you attempt to hug him again despite your first attempt being futile.

atsumu smiles, his own cheshire grin, and he likes that he goes home to you, likes that no matter how tiring his day gets, he’ll always have you to come home to.

he lets you welcome him into a hug, and he smiles, and he laughs, saying, “i picked up the laundry - separated your whites from my reds, i didn’t make that mistake again - and i picked up those highlighters you were eyeing the last time we went by there, and, oh wait — ”

he stops talking, walking over to your side of the room, and atsumu says, “pause.”

“what?” you laugh, raising a brow at his actions, and you’re pulled into his arms - he smells like the sun and fresh cologne - and you’re quick to ease into him.

he smiles, “pause.”

you titter, “why?”

and he tells you, “kiss.”

so you laugh thinking he’s joking, but you stop your sentences anyways, pushing his hair away from his face, and you let him kiss you - smiley, toothy, consecutive kisses - and he doesn’t let you pull away.

atsumu’s arms locks behind your hips, pushing you against the kitchen sink, kissing you one after the other, and he pulls away, taking the free second as an opportunity to calm the atmosphere down.

it’s been a long day of volleyball, a long day without you, and it’s nice to just have you so close to him even for a little while.

you smile, your nose almost touching his, and you say, “so you were telling me about highlighters?”

“is that all you want from me?” he asks, faking a dramatic sigh.

and you nod, “i married you for that exact reason, miya - a set of highlighters.”

and atsumu scoffs, “well, miya, i didn’t hear you mention them in your vows.”

the high of the moment ends, his laughter dies down with yours, but neither of you move away from each other - just comfort in the closeness of being together again.

you married this man. you’re barely 20, and you’ve actually married this man - taken his name as your own - and you’re still deciding if that’s a good thing or not.

his nose brushes against yours, and you stare at his face long enough to see a subtle blue discoloration just above his eyebrow.

“you have a bruise.” you frown, pointing out what you see as you trace over it with your finger.

atsumu nods, wincing when you touch too hard over it, “got hit in the face with a ball.”

“does it hurt?” you ask, a bit gentler this time.

and he tells you, “nothing i can’t handle.”

atsumu feels your hand settle on his cheek, his bruised, sore cheek, and he feels how gentle you are with it — like you’re scared to hurt him, and he pushes his face deeper into your palm.

you could never hurt him.

your voice is soft, “wanna go to bed?”

he would go anywhere with you.

atsumu nods, and he laughs, “but we are so not leaving that door unlocked.”

it’s only been a few months since you and atsumu got married — just young kids, signing contracts, sharing names and spitting vows — but he’d like to think that it’s going well, he’d like to think this would last, he’d like to think that you love marrying him as much as he does.

Youngest members of bts annouced to be founders of a new type of weapon

clouds.

pairing: fem!reader, gojo satoru.

genre: angst, smut.

summary: ignorance is a bliss.

cw: age gap, manipulation, violence, cursing.

wordcout: 2.7k.

you and gojo met a long time ago, through mutual friends.

one of your friends was dating one of gojo’s friends. sheer coincidence, you thought.

you two would meet often, along your friends. for some reason, you and gojo happened to be intimate friends of each friend in common, so you’d often find yourself sitting by gojo’s side while the couple chatted and kissed lovingly. gojo didn’t talk to you at first, neither did you. he was older than you, much more, and you were too intimidated by his appearance. you’d rather stay in silence then talk to him and make yourself look like a fool.

but gojo wasn’t like that - at first.

Keep reading

(190620) han, side effects

MAKE ME CHOOSE ↳ taehyung in bandanas or taehyung in caps? — @dnaez (cr. qdeoks, dwellingsouls)

A - Z with Yoongi

M: Mint Hair

[cr. memories 2015:dwellingsouls]

Dear Army writers,

I don't wanna be rude, but hell... I have been searching for two hours for some Seokjin fanfics and I couldn't find anything because at hashtags: Seokjin fluff, Jin fluff or Seokjin imagines you can find only Jungkook. It's not the first time. The same goes for Namjoon and Jhope too. Please, stop using The hashtags like Namjoon imagines or Namjoon fluff and etc for maknae line, especially JK. I am not a hater of maknae line or something, but there's also fans who will like to see imagines for Hyung line too, and we can't because the hashtags are also used for maknae line too. Please. If you have good imagines with hyung line, just delete the hashtags for maknae line. I will like too see some fluffies with hyung line.

that smirk… 🙊

How do you feel about mean dilf bakugou w. Dummy thick reader ??

Honey, if I’m being honest...

I genuinely get so excited whenever I see you ask something LMFAOOOO I’m like this bitch is about to have me obsessed over whatever she suggests for days!!

Cw: spanking, choking, use of the term Daddy

But, oh god, he’s such a mean old man! You always hear from his friends about how much Bakugou liked to tease and fuck with people—I mean he still does, but they say it’s not as bad as he used to be—so you can’t help it! You’ll poke and tease with him, just to see how he’ll respond back.

It’s usually quips, mean little remarks that make you shut your mouth and pout until he apologizes with a new purse or shoes. But you’re back on your bullshit by the next week, teasing and picking until one day, he just explodes.

It’s cold out. He’s in his early 40s and has a hard body after years of hero work. He’s old, okay, and the cold makes his old bones a little rickety. Cut him some slack, shit!

You’re in bed playing on your phone when Bakugou walks in. He’s scowling, a hand on his lower back, grunts slightly when he bends over to pick up one of your stray heels. He opens his mouth to scold you for it, when you beat him to the punch.

“Damn, old man. Cant even bend over without making allat noise, huh?” You smirk, glancing up at him above your phone. He pauses, still slightly bent over as his ruby red eyes cut at you quickly. Being the dumb little girl you are, you continue.

“Might have to trade you in for a younger guy soon, huh? Next thing you know, you won’t even be able to get it u—”

That old man moves a lot faster than you expect him to. Your phone is smacked out of your hands, his own warm ones wrapped around your throat, the other pinning your wrists, his thighs caging you in. You can only open your mouth to gasp when he’s growling down at you, eyes aflame and irritated.

“I’m sick of your shit.” He snaps down at you, teeth bared. “You and that smart fucking mouth, you’re nothing but a spoiled fucking brat. I’ve been trying to be nice, princess, but I’m tired of it.”

Bakugou shakes your neck slightly, gripping a little harder and laughing at the way you choke. You can feel his bulge against your thigh as he towers over you, whispers against your gaping lips,

“And no, you won’t be getting another useless fucking purse or shitty designer jeans your ass is just gonna bust out of, after this.” His words make you whimper, eyes already glossing up as you pout your bottom lip. He doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt to dissuade him from punishing you.

You’re over his knee in a second. It’s embarrassing, someone as big as you being spanked so petulantly, mocking you as if you were a child. Bakugou only laughs at every cry, every hiccup, every sob, never easing up on his slaps. His thick palms, thickened after years of quirk use, feel so heavy and hard against your plump ass, even the extra fat there doesn’t soften the impact.

“Bad fucking girl, princess. Think someone’s gonna want your stupid, bratty ass?”

“They’ll only want to fuck this fat ass, these pretty little thighs, but that’s it. No ones ever gonna spoil you like I do.”

“And that’s the fucking problem! I spoiled your ass! Even when you were being a spoiled, dumb little fucking brat, I rewarded that shit because of your stupid cute face and nice little body and fuck—”

You can’t help the wobbly smile at his confession. His spanks slow down as you look at him over your shoulder. You think his resolve is cracking at the soft eyes he gives you, before that same sneer is on his lips in an instant. He uses one hand to slam your face back down into the mattress and starts reigning slap after slap against your bruising ass.

“Don’t give me those eyes, princess, it’s not gonna work.” He growls, sounds like he doesn’t even believe himself. You wriggle and squirm in his lap, sobbing apologies as the spanks seem never ending, now traveling down to the backs of your thighs.

“Don’t be sorry now, smart mouth. You’re nothing but a little girl with a fat ass that needs to learn her fucking place. Ya understand me?” Bakugou snarls, grabbing mean handfuls of your ass, making you squeal and fight to get off of his lap.

“Tell me you understand, or you’re not getting shit for your birthday.” You know he’s bluffing, knows he would never let his pretty princess go without on her birthday, but you nod anyway, whimper.

“Y-yes, daddy, I understand!”

“Good.” He says, rubbing soothing circles on your sore ass. You’re still sobbing, eyes leaking like a faucet as Bakugou pulls you up to settle in his lap. You wrap your arms around his thick neck, cry your apologies for being so mean to him, let him coo and soothe your raw ass with a heated palm.

When your crying finally trickles down into soft whimpers, the rubbing slides down between your legs, plays with the hem of your panties. You grunt, pull away to look up at Bakugou, watch the way his eyes scan over your face as he bites his lip.

“Daddy?” You ask. “What are you...” you taper off when thick fingers find your clit through your panties. Bakugou smirks, swipe away your tears with his tongue. He speaks gruffly against your cheek,

“Your punishments not over yet, princess. This is for the weeks you’ve been fucking with me. Be a good girl and take it, yeah?”

You can only nod, sob softly, and let your Daddy punish you for being so mean to him. You deserve every slap, every name, every painful orgasm. As long as it’s from him, you’ll take whatever he gives you.