Imagine Simon beating himself up over you…
It’s late at night in the barracks, the task force had almost lost you to a bullet wound embedded in your side, another hour without treatment and you would have been lost for good. You lie in your quarters, having been treated and given fluids that you needed to live, when suddenly you hear a heavy knocking at the metal door.
It’s Simon, his knuckles are bloody from hours using a punching bag without thinking, his mask halfway on his face to reveal him as a panting mess still sweaty with effort. With your permission, he cracks open the door halfway, just to stare out at you in the faint glow of the room.
“You can come in Si, I can’t see you like that.”
He shuts the door softly. Afraid to rouse you anymore from needed sleep. Once enveloped in the darkness you were using to rest, he is dragging himself over to you and leaning over your frame in a manner far too intense for you in such a state.
“Si? What’s wrong?”
As you reach your hand up to his masked jaw, he suddenly takes your wrist in a heavy grip and forces your hand on his cheek.
He says nothing yet, closing his eyes to the touch and letting his breathing slow as he reminds himself you are alive….he had lost himself in hours of training and needed to remind himself that the mission was not a total failure, you were alive.
He would prefer it if you punched him, let him know how foolish it was to let you slip away from him, let him know it was all his fault and—
Instead he settles for breathing you in, muttering that he’s glad you didn’t leave, but the muttering becomes more of a groan as you try to pull him to bed with you, mewling at your gentle touch.
He’d prefer not to be seen like this, but then why would he have come to your room, other than to fall into your embrace and remind himself he’s grounded.
As he lies with you, he tells himself that someday soon he’ll take the mask off, only for you. You’re the only one that can see him like this.
With that thought, he lets himself drift off with you.
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Logan with you, certified yapper, who actually loves hearing your voice. People around him think he’s so grumpy and is annoyed. He never really responds, just sometimes grunts in agreement. They think he’s just brushing you off—especially since he also gets annoyed with Wade. In reality? He’s listening to every detail. You know because every morning you wake up with extra sugar in your coffee that you mentioned to him one time or another time when he gave you a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer because you said it was your favorite feeling. You once told him, in a fit of your ranting, that you had a thing for his arms. Ever since then, he’s been wearing more sleeveless tops even though it’s the dead of winter. He also knows all the gossip of your coworkers. Janet—fucking Janet—one time mouthed off about one little mistake you did and Logan sent her home crying because of all of the gossip you blabbed onto him when you got home from work. This man always listens to his girl.
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༉‧₊˚. get to know me better !! ♡
— 𝜗𝜚 thank u @cosmiiwrites nd @queenofmistresses for the tags, my lovies <3 i love u both
favorite color? pink!! i love pink!! you know the colour of hello kitty’s bow? pink!! my melo? pink!! my socks rn? pink!! did i mention my favourite colour is pink?
last song? someday - from the zombies soundtrack (banger)
currently reading? i finished the hurricane wars by thea guanzon a few days ago so im using this as an excuse to tell you to read it n i loved it so much but im currently starting (only a chapter in) a feather so black by lyra selene
currently watching? i don’t think i am watching anything… i last watched the zombies movies though… (im not obsessed you are)
currently craving? NOODS ugh i could demolish some noodles rn
coffee or tea? yes.
@nebulacrumbs @blooming-crimson-flower @hellsgreatestslut @lilsleepybear1029 @ustulia tag you’re it <3
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More of bsf!theo when people think your dating I beg
Also can I be 🦝 anon?
“mate, i can’t believe you two still haven’t fucked.” blaise remarks with a chuckle of disbelief. theo, leaning back on the couch in the dimly lit common room, narrows his fierce eyes as he glares at blaise. “oh, don’t be ridiculous, blaise. obviously they have.” draco chimes in, scoffing and rolling his eyes in a snobbish manner. “what the fuck are you two on about? we’re just friends, alright? nothin’ more.” theo snaps back, his fingers restlessly tapping on the leather couch with his lips pressed together in a thin line. mattheo then joins the conversation, much to theo’s growing frustration.
“right. well, and enzo is my friend but i don’t slap his ass every time he walks by. but that might just be me!”
“i mean… you could if you wanted—”
“hey, guys!” you unawarely interrupt with a cheerful tone, abruptly cutting off enzo’s sentence as the boys look startled at your sudden presence, too immersed in their conversation to have noticed you walk in. a smug, lopsided smirk spreads on theo’s face— not only because his mood instantly brightens the moment he sees you, but also because he’s relieved that the awkward conversation finally came to an end.
theo swiftly grasps your hand and pulls you onto his lap, causing you to stumble clumsily onto him, eliciting a soft giggle from you. yet, you can’t help but sense that the atmosphere feels slightly… off. you quickly begin to wonder why the group has fallen into dead silence instead of continuing their conversation, and from your peripheral vision, you notice their burning, staring eyes fixed on both of you.
“hmm. good morning, bella” theo murmurs in a deep, raspy morning voice, quickly pulling you out of your puzzled trance. you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek— a familiar greeting between you and your best friend. you feel theo’s firm hands trail down to your ass, before casually slipping them into the pockets of your jeans.
mattheo suddenly coughs, his voice dropping to a muttered whisper, “just friends… yeah right.” in response, you hear enzo and blaise snicker softly, unable to hide their amusement. theo mutters a quiet dickheads under his breath, which makes you cock your head in confusion as your eyes uneasily dart around the room. “so uhm… what were you guys talking about just now?” “nothin’ you should worry your pretty head over, piccola.”
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reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡
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FAVORITE ࿔*:・゚
꒰ m. osamu x gn!reader ꒱
° sypnosis: what's osamu's favorite food?
° warning: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!, post-timeskip, it's gender neutral but reader has a vagina, cursing, osamu calls reader: sweet thing, pretty & baby, oral (reader receiving), munch!osamu, cunnilingus, slight overstim at the end
° notes: DON'T LOOK AT MEEEEE!!!!!
Osamu swears up and down that he does not have a favorite food.
They are all equally delicious to him, every bite of every dish he tastes dances on his tongue with a new partner each time. Whether it be an elegant waltz from the caviar served at his brother's wedding, a playful jig from a bite from the plastic dish of dippin’ dots he got for nostalgia’s sake or the quick-paced two-step from the baked mac ‘nd cheese his Ma makes for every family picnic. It’s baffling that anyone would ever expect him to pick a favorite.
This is the socially acceptable answer. This is what he tells Atsumu when he asks for reference. This is what he tells his customers if they even suggest that onigiri is his favorite. This is his go to, but the truth?
Osamu’s favorite food is the one buried deep between the apex of your thighs.
Just like every good dish, this one has to be prepared with love and care. It starts off tender, it always does with him. Slow, messy, desperate kisses with gentle nips at your bottom lip. His hands graze up and down your sides, before ultimately landing on your hips with a soft squeeze. Your skin feels so warm, so plush and right against the skin of his own hands. Rough from volleyball, fights with Tsumu and endless days molding his rice into perfect triangles.
His lips move down, pressing messy open-mouth kisses against your jaw. Stopping at the junction that connects your jaw to your neck, sucking a deep hickey before continuing his journey. His hands travel up your shirt, but that’s as far as they go. He’s not wasting time, not tonight. That’s not what he’s hungry for.
He’ll nip, and suck, and bite, and kiss until you’re writhing beneath him. Not even undressed yet, but somehow you can feel him on every inch of your bare skin. He’s got you right where he wants you.
Your skin feels so hot, you’re pulsing, throbbing with need. Your whines only spur him further as he lets out a low chuckle and a quick: “Patience sweet thing, I’m gettin’ there.”
He fumbles with your jeans, he’s too eager now. Too impatient, he won’t wait for his food to cool down. He pulls them off with one swift movement, your underwear catching on the denim and sliding down with them.
“You smell so fuckin’ good baby,” he purrs, his now swollen lips making quick with the way they kiss along your thighs, “Ma always told me to blow on my food if it was too hot though…” he smirks up at you, “...and I don’t wanna burn my tongue.”
He stops just short of your heat, his hand reaching out tentatively. With two fingers, he collects your slick before spreading apart your lips, putting you on full display for him. He’s practically drooling now, blowing a stream of hot air directly on your throbbing cunt, chuckling at the way you squirm from his action.
You’re cooled down enough.
Eagerly, almost animalistically, he flattens his tongue against your slit. Careful to avoid the bundle of nerves that begs for his attention so desperately. He’ll get there. He laps every inch of your folds, relishing in the way his head burns from how tightly you’re gripping his dark brown locks. His hands hold your thighs firmly in place, fingernails digging in the supple fat while he continues to eat you like a starved man.
The noises he makes are absolutely sinful. Audible slurps fill the room, his own drool coating your cunt while you plead for him to at least ghost over your clit with his mouth. But he has other plans.
He catches the bundle of nerves between his lips, and he moans, fucking moans in sync with you from your taste alone. He sucks, laps, slurps, fucking devours you whole like you’re his last meal and he’s a man on death row.
His pace doesn’t relent, he’s moaning into your pussy, he’s not even focused on himself. He’s lost, you have him hooked. He feels your thighs clamp down against his head, his tongue moves quicker inside of your tight hole before he retracts it and licks another long strip the whole way to your clit, sending you over the edge.
He gives you a moment, only a moment for you to catch your breath before he dives back in again. Laughing hoarsely against your core as you whine and try to push his head away from the overstimulation, but he won’t budge.
“Now pretty, quit squirmin’,” he groans, “I’m tryin’ ta get seconds of my favorite food.”
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