#but it's kind of messing with my head a little bit?

[phosphns]

⌗ . . . bathroom sex with dealer!chris

warns. smut. oral [f. receiving]. unprotected sex [don’t be silly]. porn without plot. creampie. explicit language. degradation kink. pet names [doll, baby, princess]. teasing, lowercase intended.

“chris — please — move!” your hips instinctively nudged forward, searching for just a shred of contact with his fingers, which where buried deep inside you, still.

he shook his head, amused by your pathetic reaction at his touch. “uh-huh. you’ve been such a bad girl the instant we stepped into this party,” he said, keeping his free hand at the side of your head, trapping you between his body and the wall.

when he dragged you into this bathroom by the arm you knew what was coming. you actually had seen it coming from the moment you decided to wear that tight, little dress — the one he expressly affirmed he didn’t want you to wear.

“you knew this would happen, didn’t you?” he suddenly curled his fingers inside you, caressing your insides, making you let out a load moan. “you acted so bossy out there with that douchebag, what happened now?” he added, alluding to your wasted status.

he had in fact barely touched you, pushing you against the cold tiles and lifting your slutty garment up to your navel as soon as you entered the bathroom and you already were a moaning mess, craving for more of his touch.

“please chris — i-i need you,” you said blubbering. he smirked down at you. “need me to what?” he teased. you could tell he was holding back. his eyes were dark and glossy in lust and desire and if you only moved your leg a little bit you could’ve felt the hard-on that was starting to grow between his legs.

“need you.. need you to- to make me feel good,” you were slurring your words, trying to stay still to not upset him more, even if everything you could feel in that moment was your aching core begging to be relieved.

he bit his lips, moving his head in disapproval “gonna need something more, princess” the brunette said, approaching dangerously to your face. he started to leave a trail of wet kisses all over your jaw and neck.

you swore you were about to lose it and starting fucking yourself on his fingers on your own.

“chris — chris — please make me cum. i need it- need you so bad,” you begged him miserably, closing your eyes at the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your collarbone.

“look at me — he grabbed your chin with two fingers, making your eyes flutter open — y’think you deserve it?” he said, pulling away from your chest and looking at you in your eyes, which were imploring for some kind of contact. “you deserve to cum after acting like a slut in front of me and the whole party? mh?”

he started to move his middle and pointer finger inside you painfully slowly, making your spine shiver and your mouth let out a whimper. his thumb reached your swollen clit, rubbing it just as slowly. you tried to say something but a low whine broke the words in your throat.

“mh? fuckin’ answer me,” his fingers went abruptly deeper, while he placed his knee between your legs, blocking them to close.

“i don’t! i was such a slut! i’m sorry- please i’m sorry!” you almost screamed in frustration.

he sharply removed his fingers from my heat, grabbing you by the waist and turning you around, making you face the big mirror. “i think you need a reminder of who you belong to,” he roamed his hands all over your body, caressing your hips sensually.

you could feel his boner pocking onto your ass, so you pushed back on purpose, trying to have some friction. “mhm, you surely need it,” he added, before shoving two fingers inside your pussy once again, this time his pace was fast and rough.

your eyes closed again due the overstimulation that you were accumulating. “didn’t ya understand me? i want those pretty eyes open,” he repeated. what you saw once you accomplished was your reflection being fingered-fucked by your boyfriend, and that did nothing but turn you on even more.

your mouth kept letting out a sequence of moans and whines, as you felt the familiar tension building up in your stomach. “god — right there, don’t stop, please”

his gaze was fixed on his digits appearing and disappearing inside you, moving it on your face when you letted out a nearly pornographic moan. “you like bein’ treated like the whore y’are, don’t you?”

“yes, yes, yes,” you repeated like a mantra, getting off on the wet sounds that the contact made. he speeded up his pace, pumping his fingers furiously in and out of you, knowing that you were getting closer and closer.

as you were about to reach your climax, he stopped again, making you groan. “no, no please, i was so close!” you cried out.

he ignored you, removing his hand for the umpteenth time that night to hook his fingers onto the fabric of your panties, pulling them down to your knees. “if you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna do it on my cock,” he said, pushing your back down, so that you were bent over the counter.

he didn’t waste time to pull down his zipper and take out his length, that slapped on his stomach because of the stimulation. his red mushroom tip was leaking pre-cum, streaming down his erection.

he took it in his free hand and beat it a few times, before lining it up with my entrance. he rubbed it between my folds, gathering some of your juices as lube. “these were your intentions f’this party, isn’t that right?” he kept teasing.

you arched your back, trying to have his dick finally buried deep inside you, as you, indeed, had tried all night long. “please chris — i-i need it” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip so hard that almost bled.

“you knew i had deals to take care of, and yet, there you were, grinding yourself on some random jerk” he traced a finger on your back, from your neck to your ass, delivering an harsh slap on your right cheek.

you were a mess at this point, your stare on his face, on his lips, on his body, in the hope that he would’ve done something anytime soon.

suddenly, he slammed his hips forward, making your eyes roll back in your head from the shock. he didn’t give you time to adjust to his size, he just began to move in and out roughly, his pace fast and constant. his hands rested firmly on your hips, you both breathing heavily as he hit all the deeper spots.

one of his hands flew to your bundle of nerves, grazing against it to add pleasure at your already near climax.

“chris” you moaned, saying the only thing you were able to vocalize. your face was contorted in gratification, your knuckles becoming white due the hard grip you had on the counter.

“shit — i know baby,” he whispered, continuing to slam his hips on your ass, his balls on your clit. his grasp grew harder on your skin, sign that he was close too.

you started feeling the peak in your stomach, your legs becoming jelly and trembling. you couldn’t hold back anymore. “i’m gonna come — god, chris i’m ‘bouta —”

“fuuck — cum for me, doll” he told you, continuing thrusting in you nonstop.

it only took you one sentence and a few moments to start creaming on his cock, feeling it twitching inside you. “aah — chris… oh my god” 

you finally felt l his cum spurting in your cunt, the warm liquid filling you up. he pulled out, letting out one last moan, the two of you trying to re-stabilize your breathing. 

you tried to lift your back, but chris stopped you, making you bend over again. you felt his fingers on your core once again, “chris — no more — m’too sensitive,” i cried out.

“nuh-uh. not letting any of it going wasted” he said, collecting his semen and yours that was leaked out your pussy to put them back in. your cunt hurt for the overstimulation, all red and puffy — to him, it hadn’t never looked prettier.

when he finally pulled away, you raised your panties up and lowered the dress down, fixing — or attempting to — your hair and make up to make it seem like you hadn’t occupied the room for over thirty minutes.

“you okay?” chris asked you, turning you around. he wrapped his arms around your waist, your back hitting the counter. i nodded, “yeah, i think i remember now” you said making him smirk.

“you made me lose a buyer — we’re not done” he added, half joking and half serious. i let out a chuckle, my hands flying around his neck, brushing my lips on his.

he closed the gap and gave me a soft kiss, before pulling away and putting his arm around my shoulder. we leave the room, acting like nothing happened under the judging gazes of the long queue of people who were waiting to use the toilet.

“i hope you enjoyed your fuck, fuckin’ almost made me piss myself”

yaps. it was supposed to be shorter but i got too involved… anyway i need him so bad it’s concerning.

wc. 1,5k

[webslingingslasher]

j! its been so long but omg hi

i was super obsessed with ur frat!peter hows he doing?

i just saw a tiktok that was about a frat boy yelling at a party “if youre not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!” has this been brought up in the frat!peter circle?

i have so many scenarios in my mind like at the different stages! when they first started and trouble isnt super stable in the relationship and she goes to head out but peter (or ethan omg) grabs her arm and hes like ur part of that demographic trouble. im melting 🫠

or when theyre like broken up/taking a break and she goes to leave and peter goes all sad puppy dog eyes :((

omg yes queen::

*a little something ya'll can wake up to. <3

---

'if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!'

you hold in a sigh, the party's over. ally won't make it home with you tonight, she ditched you thirty minutes ago to 'go with matty,' aka, you won't see her again until tomorrow.

you glance down at your drink and debate chugging it, if you do you know you'll leave with a woozy stomach. you take two sips and dump the cup in the kitchen trash, it sends two empty beer cans falling, you shrug at the mess and keep walking.

a girl stumbles into your shoulder and profusely apologizes with tears in her eyes, you keep telling her it's okay but she doesn't let it go until her boyfriend nudges her out of the house.

the house music cuts, any stragglers were just seriously kicked out. you follow the crowd and prepare for the cold walk home, a hand loops around your upper arm before you can get through the threshold.

'where do you think you're going?' you turn around and grin at your friend. 'home? where are you going?'

'also home. i'm just waiting for everyone to clear out first.' ethan pulls you away from the dwindling party. 'you know, brother duties.' he sends a wink your way, you nod along like you understand.

'yeah, but i'm not a brother so i don't think i should help with that.'

ethan stops you again. 'parker is a brother, yes?' he is. he's also not there tonight. something about going to queens being more important than the typical friday night party. 'he is.'

'and you're fucking him, right?' you love when ethan has a little liquor in him. 'i am.'

'okay, so then you fit the requirements. hang back with me and we can go to my place together.' it's not a hard sell but you'll act like it is. 'are you sure? peter's not even here, do those rules still apply?'

'i'm a god damn chapter officer, i get to make the rules and it's everyone else's job to follow them. how about that?' you pat ethan's shoulder, you're not arguing one bit.

'can't fight you on that, can i? you twisted my arm good enough, lorax. i'm yours until peter gets home.' ethan holds out his hand, you shake it like it's a business deal.

'good. he told me to make sure you stayed.' he says it with a wink, a gentle suggestion he wasn't supposed to tell you that but you're glad he did. it makes you warm thinking peter didn't want you to feel excluded, especially because he was missing in action tonight.

'well... i am fucking a brother, right?'

'you are. and you know what that means? you have to stay here after every party.' he says it like it's a bad thing but you can get used to being on an exclusive guest list.

it feels nice. so, ‘hell yeah.’

-- vs. after the breakup--

'if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!'

hearing it makes you sad. no one's going to make you stay or tell you that those exceptions still apply to you. ally gets to stay here and you have to tuck your tail between your legs and scoot out the door.

'i can leave with you.' your best friend is kind for offering, you're an even better friend for saying no. 'that's okay, stay with matt.'

'are you sure? you shouldn't have to walk out of here alone, that kinda blows.' it does and you don't like the reminder. you'd prefer if ally stays, actually. you don't want her pity.

'it's fine. beats the alternative, right?' she looks at you to say what the alternative is, you do it with a sigh. 'fucking peter. that's my other option.'

'who said it had to be peter? there's like forty guys in the frat and you're buddies with at least five, take your pick.' you've thought about it but frat boys, especially the ones from sig nu, make you queasy.

'it's fine, ally-cat. i'll walk back with one of the other girls in our dorm.' the same faces you see in the hallway at your dorm are gathering their stuff to leave, they'll have no issue with you tagging along. 'boo. i miss when we would have frat house sleepovers.'

'good. blame peter.'

'and i do. he hates to see me coming his way, he really does.'

another brother screams out the same line, you frown and decide to leave while you still have friends in eye-distance. when you reach the door you look behind one last time to send a wave to your best friend. ally sends one back and blows a kiss with it. you catch it and slam it to your cheek, she giggles, you grin. your eyes flit up to the stairs, someone's already watching you.

peter sends you a sorry smile, he hates that you don't get to stick around anymore either. you match his melancholy and give him a shrug, more like a 'whatcha gonna do?' vibe. rules are rules and you're no longer a fitting member for the requirements they need.

'you can stay.' peter mouths it, you pretend not to know what he just said. 'wait.' you're still pretending, you turn around and walk a little faster down the steps- peter catches you on the bottom step.

'i said you can stay.' you have no reason to stay behind. you're not a brother and you're no longer involved with one. you point to an imaginary watch on your wrist, 'i'm about to turn into a pumpkin.'

'yeah, you almost left a shoe running out of here so fast, cinderella.'

you grin, 'i'm just following the rules.'

peter wavers his stance, he doesn't care who said what- he wants you to hang around a little bit more. he likes seeing you around. 'you're still included. i mean, we're involved, aren't we?'

you look at him like he's crazy, you swear you see him blush before he starts fumbling over his words. 'i just meant that i'm not moving on and you're not moving on and i'm trying to get things back to how they were- no, wait, i'm trying to get things better than they were before. not that they were bad! well, i mean they were bad but not... trouble, help me out here, you know what i mean.'

you do. you just like ignoring it. 'you're cute when you grovel for me.'

'i'll get on my knees right fucking now.' he's not even drunk and he's willing to beg for you in front of his party goers. you have to hold in a smirk of pride. 'to ask me to stay or to convince me with your mouth?'

peter's eyebrows raise, 'if you're asking me to go down on you the answer is yes. it's very much a yes, my place or yours? fuck it, let's go to the bathroom.' you're halfway back inside before you realize what you started.

you rip your hand away from peter, you refuse to go back to what it was. you need more than a few apologies to make you crawl back into his bed, you need a real confession. 'nuh uh, not happening. not in a damn bathroom.'

'okay, that's fine, my place is closer.'

you have to stop yourself from following him a second time. 'no, wait! i meant no, it's not happening. period.'

'i don't care if you're on your period, i'll still do it. that's how committed i am to you.' you manage to keep from gagging at the visual, instead you shove peter's shoulder. 'ew! you're so gross! i'm not on my period, you dolt. i'm just not having sex with you.'

'cool, don't have sex with me, let me just show you i can still make you come in under five minutes.' he has no idea how tempting it is. you're being braver saying no than he is for asking, post-breakup included.

'go find another girl, i'm sure there's a whole line-up waiting to get picked on.' peter's nose wrinkles, he doesn't even think of it as a cheap shot. 'gross, other girls are icky.'

you shut it down. 'peter, i'm not a brother and i haven't touched you in two months. there's no reason for me to still be here, goodnight.' you try to leave, a whine follows behind you.

'but you're still-'

but you're not, no matter how much he says it.

'if you changed the rule to 'if you're not a brother, fucking a brother, or used to fuck a brother, then get the fuck out!' how many girls would stand around and wait on you?' peter looks at you, he doesn't say anything and silence always screams that you're right.

'mhm. rules are rules, goodnight.'

there's a sense of succeeding when all you get is a wistful goodbye behind you. it lasts until the next week when the routine friday night party comes to an end with the normal call.

'if you're not a brother, fucking a brother, or go by trouble, then get the fuck out!'

ally squeals and tells you 'that's you!' but you're too busy glaring at peter's smug face to celebrate. it's his turn to shrug, his mouth forms four words that fuck you over.

'rules are rules, trouble.' 

[dulcescorderitas]

dean seeing you wearing his leather jacket

parings: dean winchester x reader

warnings: 18+, implied smut

the sound of the motel door clicking shut barely registered, your focus locked on the way dean froze in his tracks. his boots scuffed against the cheap carpet as his green eyes swept over you, darkening with every second they lingered. his leather jacket hung loose on your shoulders, the sleeves just a little too long, the worn fabric brushing your thighs. underneath, there was nothing but your skin and the thin scrap of lace you called panties, the kind he liked so much—the ones he always swore he’d tear off one day.

his breath hitched, his jaw tightening as he raked a hand through his hair, the gesture doing little to tame the mess of it. "jesus christ," he muttered, his voice low, rough, like gravel under a slow-moving car. "you’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?"

you smiled, a sly, knowing curve of your lips, and turned slightly, letting the jacket part just enough to give him a better view of the bare skin beneath. "you left this behind," you teased, your voice soft, sweet, laced with heat. "thought I’d try it on."

he took a step closer, his boots heavy against the floor, and you saw the muscle in his jaw tick again. "looks better on you than it ever did on me," he murmured, his voice thick with something darker now, his eyes glued to the expanse of your thighs where the hem of the jacket just barely covered you. "but you knew that already, didn’t you?"

his hands were on you before you could answer, rough palms sliding under the leather to grab your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin like he needed to prove to himself you were real. he tugged you closer, your chest brushing his as he bent his head, his lips hovering just above yours.

"what am i supposed to do with you, huh?" he rasped, his breath hot against your mouth, his eyes flicking between your face and the sliver of lace peeking out from beneath the jacket. "wearin’ my jacket... lookin’ like this..."

you wrapped your arms around his neck, the worn leather creaking softly as it shifted with you. "i don’t know," you whispered, letting your lips ghost over his. "but i’m sure you’ll think of something."

he growled low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver through you, and suddenly his lips were on yours, hard and claiming. his hands moved to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. the jacket slipped from your shoulders as he pushed you down, his body covering yours in an instant.

"you drive me fuckin’ crazy," he muttered against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck, his stubble scratching deliciously as he kissed and bit his way lower. "always pushin’ my buttons, always knowin’ exactly what you’re doin’ to me."

his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down with one sharp motion, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked at you laid out beneath him. "you wanna tease me, baby?" he said, his voice low, dangerous in the best way. "then you’d better be ready to take what’s comin’."

and with that, he was on you, his hands and mouth leaving no inch of you untouched, the night stretching out into something wild, something unforgettable, something that felt like it belonged to just the two of you and the leather jacket tossed carelessly to the floor.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ Braiding hair Ambessa x Wife reader ✞⛧

Warnings: reader is white coded, I did basic research on how to braid hair like Ambessa’s (probably not enough-)

Fluff <3

The sunlight streamed into the room as you sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at Ambessa’s hair like it was some kind of unsolvable puzzle. She was seated on the floor in front of you, her tall frame leaned back slightly so her broad shoulders brushed against your knees.

“I’m going to be honest,” you said, twisting your lips in concentration, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Ambessa tilted her head back slightly, giving you a glance with one raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk. “You did insist, my love,” she pointed out, her voice rich with amusement.

“Well, yeah, because you looked so cute sitting on the floor and asking me to braid your hair. But now I’m regretting my overconfidence,” you admitted, your hands hovering hesitantly over her thick, dark locks.

Ambessa chuckled, the deep sound rumbling through her chest. “It’s just hair. I’ll show you.” She reached back, taking one of your hands gently in hers and guiding you.

“Okay, so,” she began, her tone calm and patient, “you take a section—about this big—and separate it into three parts.”

You followed her guidance, albeit clumsily, as you tried to section off a piece of her hair. It didn’t help that your hands were shaking slightly under the pressure. “Is this… right?” you asked, squinting at your uneven sections.

Ambessa gave a small hum, glancing back briefly. “Close enough. Now, start weaving one piece over the other. Like this.” Her fingers moved deftly over her own hair for a moment to demonstrate, and you tried to mimic her movements.

Your first attempt was less than stellar. The braid was lumpy and loose, and you groaned in frustration. “This is so embarrassing. I’m making a mess of your hair.”

Ambessa laughed again, her shoulders shaking slightly. “Patience, my love. You’re doing fine. Besides, I didn’t marry you for your hairstyling skills.”

You playfully swatted her shoulder. “Gee, thanks for the encouragement.”

She leaned her head back against your knees, looking up at you with a smirk. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

You stuck your tongue out at her but focused again, determined to get it right this time. With her guidance—and an embarrassing number of failed attempts—you finally managed a halfway-decent braid.

“Not bad,” she said, reaching up to feel it. “It’s a bit loose, but you’re getting the hang of it.”

“Loose?” you gasped, mock-offended. “I’ll have you know that’s the bohemian style.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” she teased, her amber eyes gleaming with amusement.

You sighed dramatically, leaning forward to press your forehead to the back of her head. “I’m trying, okay? You’re not allowed to make fun of me.”

“I would never,” she said, though the smirk on her face said otherwise.

As you worked on another section, you found yourself relaxing into the rhythm. You weren’t perfect by any means, but the act of running your fingers through her hair and weaving the pieces together felt oddly intimate.

“Why do you even want mini braids, anyway?” you asked after a while. “Seems like a lot of work for both of us.”

Ambessa shrugged, her voice softer now. “I find it… comforting.”

Your hands stilled for a moment as your heart swelled. “That’s really sweet,” you murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

Ambessa smiled at your gesture but didn’t say anything, letting the quiet intimacy of the moment settle between you.

By the time you finished, your arms were sore, and you were certain you’d made a hundred mistakes. But when Ambessa stood and turned to face you, her expression was one of quiet approval.

“You did well,” she said, running her fingers over the braids.

“You’re just saying that because you love me,” you replied, though the pride in her eyes made you feel a little less self-conscious about your work.

“I do love you,” she said, stepping closer to cup your face in her large hands. “And I appreciate the effort. Even if you need more practice.”

You groaned, hiding your face in her chest as she laughed. “Rude!”

Her laughter softened into a low hum as she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. “Thank you, my love. For trying, for learning. It means more to me than you know.”

You looked up at her, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Well, as long as you don’t mind being my guinea pig, I’ll keep practicing.”

Ambessa’s smirk returned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[sentientthing]

Reader adopts a big fluffy dog that's very opinionated, when and where walks happen is entirely the dogs decision. It's a good dog, perfectly pleasant but thick headed as a bull. Demands pets with authority a dog has no business having.

They love that mutt, got it from a shelter and doesn't have the heart to take charge when being a bit bossy is the only 'misbehavior' the dog ever shows, until it's walkie time in the middle of the night, new moon and cloudy, pitch black. Resigned you get the harness, leash and treat bag and bundle up. In a hurry to get the head of the house their wish you forget any kind of light, left your phone on your bedside table when you heard the grumbles of demands.

It seems to be a night for adventure, leash pulled taught in a direction you've never even walked by daylight and nose glued to the floor. The gates to a park at least let you know where you're going, not that you recognize the name, its far out of your usual range especially in the middle of the night. You cope by clinging to the 'scary dog privilege' even though the mutt never showed an ounce of aggression towards anything.

Looking around to not get caught off guard by a malicious stranger you miss your dog perking up, fixating a direction and taking off, the "STOP" leaves your mouth the second your body is jostled but its no use. You're dragged across the park, thankfully mostly grass but it still hurts. Digging your feet in is no use, hopelessly outmatched by the dog the shelter told you was perfectly sized for you. "Manageable my ass you stupid dog stop running!", you scream no care for time of day when you come to an abrupt halt, sliding a little on the muddy ground until someone grabs the leash and is immediately crowded by the traitor. All wags and tip taps, it'd be adorable if you weren't on your ass god knows where thanks to him.

"Bad dog thief if you can't even train one.", you can't place the tone, or read the strangers face through his balaclava. Thief? You would never steal someones beloved pet. "Fuck you, I'm no thief. He's from a shelter, if I wanted a free dog I'd get a stray." The amount of awkward eye contact that followed made your skin crawl, you shivered in discomfort from your mud caked clothes to the scary stranger starring you down. Was he not going to react at all? Your attitude had always been your biggest flaw. Why couldn't the floor just open up and swallow you whole? You were going to die for mouthing off for sure, or worse. "C'mon boy, home.", he was looking at you but definitely talking to the dog, voice even as he yankes you up by the leash and herds you after the dog happily trotting the way it came. Oh no, your dog was going to YOUR home, backtracking through the park, mindful of the grooves he, or rather you, left. Caring about tripping you now, between treating you like a crash dummy and a lamb to the slaughter.

The streetlights flickered back on one by one, the silent man at your back cast eerie shadows over you every time you passed one. You could barely breath, fear clogged your throat, choking you. Running was out of the question, he would catch you, no doubt in your mind. You didn't dare think about what your- well, his dog really would do. He might even be trained to bite, maul you to bits for the crime of displeasing his master. Tears threatened to spill over your lashes at the thought, you blinked them away as hard as you could, whatever he thought of you now wouldn't be improved by turning into a sobbing mess. No crying about whatever this was, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you dissolve, if he wanted to he would crush you either way.

Your front door looked like a guillotine, the slanted window that once charmed you now made your stomach turn. You fumbled with the keys, hands shaking in helplessness. When they slipped your grasp, a gloved hand reaches out from behind you and catches them, palm up, the keys to your doom cradled in the hand of death. Slowly, you lifted your hand to take the keys back. The thought to stab him with them crossed your mind, but you had no follow-up. You stretched your fingers towards the house key. The next moment, you were crowded against the door and heard the keys jingle. The hinges protest when the door swung open. Unsteady legs carry you inside, mechanically taking off the harness and hanging the gear up in the dog corner.

The door clicks shut, and you refuse to acknowledge it in any way. Frozen in place, no useful thoughts in your head, your mind was screaming to do something anything at all. Time trickled by you in slow motion, for the first time you heard footsteps that weren't yours on your living room floor, the clicky noise of dog paws soon followed. Sounds from the kitchen startle you back into thought. That's where your knives are. He could take the damn fridge for all you cared right now, but you were not getting stabbed by knives you had picked out and paid for without a fight.

The sound of water hitting something metal had you confused, that weirdo did not follow you home to fill his dogs water bowl, that would be insane, and yet a few seconds later the water is being gobbled up loudly.

Something fills with water again, you're still looking at the slow swinging leash on the hook.

The stove beeps, the glasstop clinks quietly, something was placed on it.

Nails on the floor tell you the dog is scampering towards you, probably dripping water all the way. Soft fur brushes your fingers accompanied by the wet nose and tongue licking your hand. "You broken, pet?", leaning against the wall as nonchalant as the question he asked. The nickname had you glancing at the dog for a second before it clicked - this fucking guy dragged you around on a leash and called you pet like it was a normal thing to do.

You turned to give him a piece of your mind, freezing again when you saw him in the light. He'd been scary outside, dressed entirely in dark clothes and towering over you like a bad omen. In the light he looked downright terrifying, the skull print balaclava blending with his eye black, equally dark eyes looking at you with a bored expression, you had to guess. Good thing you hadn't tried anything, he looked perfectly able and willing to really hurt you. Not like how your bruised body ached from being dragged, real agony that would rip through you and fray every nerve you had. You were once again starring at each other, him waiting for a reply and you desperately trying to keep it together, whether you'd laugh or cry or attack him you didn't dare guess but something was boiling over.

The kettle whistles - you burst into a fit of nervous giggles.

[rockybloo]

I feel like bitchin so I'mma bitch bc I always see people going on rants on their Tumblrs and I'm long overdue for one. Anyways, this is a long one so be aware you are gonna be scrolling for a good bit if you view under the cut.

ANYWAYS, I know that that rude anon from last week is old news but their whole "I'm sad that Glitter and Guilt is a m/f relationship" thing is just a part of a never ending situation I am going to experience til the end of time (or til I stop posting stuff online) just because I focus on primarily m/f relationships in my art.

And they aren't even straight m/f relationships, which is what annoys me the most about comments like this. They're all bisexual. But because people see bisexual characters as better than straight but less than same-sex attracted orientation, I will always have to deal with these passive aggressive ass comments.

I dealt with this typa stuff SO OFTEN in my early days on Instagram, especially when I posted some of my gender nonconforming OCs like Danny (my pink demon man who dresses like a bimbo Barbie doll). It got to the point I stopped sharing him over there for a bit because I would get comments where people were hoping he had a boyfriend in the past, or they were disappointed I "never" drew any Sapphic couples because they mistook Danny as a woman in a pic where he was kissing Karrie.

And I get the whole desire to want more representation. Trust me, I'm bi, black, and nonbinary. I am NEVER going to get any type of representation outside of the indie artists I find in small niche circles online. I completely get the whole "m/f relationships are EVERYWHERE in mainstream media" mentality because I also agree but only to a point.

There's a ton of trashy m/f media, but there's also good shit when you dig because you can find people who don't just shove a guy and girl together and call that a done deal - they actually give them personality and chemistry and a fun dynamic.

I'm a firm believer that the gender of a ship shouldn't dictate if it's good or not. An interesting dynamic is what motivates me to care about a couple of characters dating. That's why it bugs me whenever someone suggests any kind of series to me and simply tells me "It's gay" before telling me the actual plotline. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT A SERIES IS ABOUT! DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!!! (Please do not pop into my inbox after reading this and suggest me stuff btw because I've never been a big suggestions unprompted person - I typically find stuff myself bc I have weird tastes ANYWAYS BACK TO MY RANTING)

When it comes to my art, I draw m/f relationships as a primary focus because it's fun to mess with gender dynamics and flip them on their head, as well as to give younger me the food I wish I had. Growing up, before I realized I was nonbinary, I rarely saw any black girls in loving relationships in animated series I enjoyed. And occasionally I would get flash banged with the long despised trope of "Disposable Black Girlfriend". So I never felt like m/f relationships were oversaturated in my eyes because there were barely any good ones that featured a black girl with a happy ending - which means from DAY MOTHERFUCKIN ONE I was starving for content.

So that obviously means that when I grew up and adopted my "Make your own food" mentality, I started cooking. AND COOK I STILL DO! Because in the end, I make all this food to please myself. OTHERS MAY EAT OF COURSE - I am always happy when people come to my restaurant to dine because they enjoy my meals, but I hate how every blue moon I will get someone who waltzes into my little eatery and tells me that they wish I cooked the meal they get from other restaurants.

Because it would be so much more productive to just go eat AT those restaurants since they already got the food you like.

Having people comment their displeasure about me drawing a guy and a girl together in a healthy (and occasionally insane) relationship is always baffling to me. It's never going to make me stop, it'll only make me draw more Red Beans or more Licorice. It's also so baffling because I know that if the tables where flipped - and I was drawing primarily same-sex bisexual couples (OR JUST SOME GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES IN GENERAL BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT BI FOLKS AT ALL), it would be so fuckin' frowned upon to comment "I wish you drew more m/f! 🥺"

But because I draw m/f bi couples, it's totally free game. IT'S DEF STILL FROWNED UPON but one is way more likely to make you look like an asshole than the other. Because even in cases where people have said they agree it's a dick move to complain about m/f from me, there's still that vibe of it being more acceptable just because of mainstream media having so many m/f couples and that being the standard of offline society.

But I'm not mainstream media. And I disagree with a lot of standards of offline society which is WHY I poke fun at gender norms with my OCs.

That's why getting a ton of new followers is such a "oh boy here we go" thing for me, because with old followers that have been around for awhile, they know what's up. They understand what I draw, what I write, and how my OCs typically behave. They get that my m/f ships have rabies.

But new followers don't know this. And this has led to some real big "OOF" moments. Like people calling Jack and Nana a "het" couple. Yes, I know that that's a term that doesn't JUST mean "heterosexual" and can refer to them being different genders. It still feels hella weird for me - it's why m/f is my preferred descriptor because it lacks that confusion.

New followers are typically the ones that leave the passive aggressive comments about me mostly drawing m/f. OFTEN because they think I am one of those artists who will draw whatever it takes to please my audience. BUT I AM NOT - THERE IS NO AUDIENCE INFLUENCE HERE ☝🏾

I am not a taxi where I pick people up whenever they call me and I drop them off wherever they tell me.

I am a roller-coaster. Specifically those ones where you can see the entire track layout in the distance so you know what you're in for. You may sit in the front or the back or somewhere in the middle but that is the last input you got before I take off at my own speed (that will be stated RIGHT on the warning sign you read as you walked in) and once I am done, you may get off and carry along your merry way through the rest of the park OR you may get on to ride again.

This entire passive aggression towards m/f ships is just so tiring to deal with because there will never be an end to it. Even after I post this, I know days, weeks, months, YEARS down the line - someone will see some Jack and Nana art, or some Bitterbat and Sweetheart comic, or ANY of my other m/f couples, and type up some comment about how they wish the couples were same-sex. Or someone will lament over the fact they thought a couple was same-sex but it turned out the dude was just hella feminine.

Because it just ain't enough to have bisexual characters that are dating the same sex because then people will call them "straight passing" and not count them as being queer. And having all my OCs being bisexuals ain't enough to mark me as a queer artists in some eyes because "making all your OCs bi is just lazy" and not me representing an aspect of myself that I constantly see sidelined online.

Me drawing bisexual m/f couples is viewed as something that can be tinkered and tampered with so I can be more appealing and inclusive to others like I'm some mainstream Hollywood series and not just some random person online who draw the fictional beings in my mind kissing each other whenever I got the crumb of free time. Primarily drawing m/f couples means I gotta just vibe whenever I see a moot or a friend post or reblog some weird sentiment referring to how lame m/f couples are and I just gotta HOPE that they aren't including bisexuals when they engage with stuff like that.

I'm in this weird space where I am wedged between "You're not a straight artist" and "You aren't drawing enough gay stuff" online.

And I'm fine with this since I've been online for over a decade at this point. This isn't a vent post, this is a rant. I don't need cheering up or comfort after posting this. This is just some real talk because I typically post lighthearted stuff since I like to keep my blogs positive.

But I also like to keep my shit honest and I think it's important to just state a piece of my mind. I wouldn't say I'm being vulnerable, this is just some insight to why I draw what I do and why I get so annoyed by certain interactions with people and certain sentiments online that are antagonistic of m/f ships that put them all down without hearing them out.

Blah blah blah I'm tired of typing and I've said most of the main points I've needed uuuummm

If you read this long have some m/f fluff

[atangledfate]

Dawn focused on the more heavily injured patients, those requiring stitches, or who might have internal bleeding. She was confident in letting the old lemur deal with less injured patients. Setting bones, or minor cuts and bruises. She was quick with her hands, and could easily stitch someone up in a quick motion. Using a numbing agent when she had to but she was hyper aware that it was running low. That she might have to resort to injections soon enough. But between the two of them they had the room nearly ready to be moved in a short amount of time.

" If they can be moved then we'll be moving them. But i get to make that call, most of these folk will be easy transfers. But there are a few at least that we won't risk moving. Doc's Orders "

She eyed the Phone and nodded and tugged out her little data pad, and grabbed the number from Twists phone. She could more easily transfer need to know info to the incoming medic once he arrived. Though she was hoping for a small team rather then any single person. Still she wouldn't snub her nose at any help at this point.

" Right, sent the data packet to them, hopefully that speeds things along... #1 will meet them at the entry way, so let's just keep working unless you need to meet them or something like that "

===============================================

Jewel felt like she was going to lose her lunch all over the Tenrec. Funny as it was she was kind of use to moving at high speeds. Between her own flight being rather zippy in movement and, Tangle's tossing her around as a kid. You'd think you'd be use to it! but this was way worse then anything tangle did to her and yet--- perhaps it was this reason that she was able to keep herself from making a mess on the floor! It was a close one but thankfully she kept her lunch where it belonged!

She gave the Tenrec a side eye and honestly she seemed like she grew up since last they spoke. She nodded to the Tenrec aware that she took a bump. Thankfully she was kind of armored by her chitin so the injury wasn't as serious as if she'd been a mammal.

" Yea... that's probably not a bad idea. I did get hit in the head by a building i guess..."

She laughed nervously though it was a joke to make light of how she could have died if not for Charmy and the two trouble makers.

" Thanks... and ... i know you and Kitsunami have always had a bit of a rocky reputation here at Restoration. But i've always believed in you both... i think this crisis only proves my faith was well founded. "

" No matter what happens today--- you'll always have a home here in restoration..."

Jewel stepped into the main room buzzing her wings as she gave a nod to Sonic and Kitsunami as she passed. Though paused near Belle and Miles as she didn't see Lanolin or any other commander near by it must have been more dire then she realized.

" I need a full Briefing... bring me up to speed. "

"Relax, I'm not say to just uproot everyone, though just to move as many as we possibly can without endangering anyone. I'm sure there are a couple who can still be moved, just not comfortably." Twist wasn't used to all this middle ground work as he was the sort of guy to just follow the orders he was given and execute them. The lemur still understood the importance of keeping the peace in times like this.

Twist didn't move quickly, deciding to take a moment to access all the injured and what he could do with his limit knowledge. The last thing he wanted to do was make any injures worse and make Dawn's job harder. The lemur settled on doing simple tasks. Popping in a dislocated joint, helping bandage some people up, and making a few quick splints. Simple tasks, though he was getting to a good amount of people so the nurse could focus on those with heavier injuries.

Twist would stop for a moment and pull out his phone to see a notification. The lemur finding one of the copies that wasn't too busy. "Here, the doctor is in the base, though figured you giving them all the details as they make their way here might help." Best to have someone who knew how things work inform the doctor of the situation.

===========================================================

"Well, I tried to go slower than normal, though there's also a time crunch here." Surge wasn't used to having to drag someone around as Drippy can normally keep up with her for the most part, though it seemed even her best attempt not to move too fast didn't work as well as she thought. The tenrec was sure Jewel would have an upset stomach, though wanted to avoid causing dizziness. "Might be best you wait where people can see you. That dome of yours ain't looking too good and I don't think it could take bumping into anything." Hard not to notice that the beetle took a bit of a hit to the head, even if it doesn't look too bad.

"And I'm don't want to hear you argue," Surge said as she opened the door and waited for Jewel to enter the room first. The tenrec didn't want the beetle to get hurt as she knows first hand it can be a bit tricky walking around after you shake off from being dizzy. Best they're in eye view of everyone so if she makes a misstep by mistake someone can catch her or prevent her from hurting herself.

[lou-struck]

Make a Move

Atsumu Miya x reader

~Sometimes when two idiots fall in love with each other, all it takes is a little motivation to get the ball rolling. 

W.C 2.6k

Warnings; Kissing, awkwardness, trickery, clichés, and Osamu Miya being a pretty good wingman.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and flaky pastries float through the air surrounding your little table. The caffeinated cloud invigorates you, ripping the last remnants of drowsiness from your brain.

Warm beams of sunlight pour in through the large scenic windows and dance upon the leaves of the large indoor plants that surround your secluded coffee spot. The one where you and your dear friend, Atsumu Miya spend many an afternoon shooting the breeze and pretending that there isn't anything more to your friendship. 

The Faux-blonde athlete is all smiles as he animatedly tells you a story about what happened on his most recent away trip with his professional volleyball team, the MSBY Jackals.

"Can ya believe it y/n?" he grins, unaware of the chocolate-drizzled whipped cream that clings to his cheek. "Turns out, that idiot was so dead tired after the match, he passed out on the Bus' toilet. His pants were at his ankles, and he was droolin' over all the toilet paper."

"At least he was wearing his underwear," you laugh, doing your best not to cackle over the soft sound of the cafe's radio. 

Atsumu's crooked smile never falters as he continues to speak adamantly, only pausing to take a long slip from his drink from his coffee with a too-short straw. Although, with energy like his you doubt he needs it.

By the time he sets the drink down, even more whipped cream has gotten onto his face. The sight makes you chuckle.

"What ya lookin' at me like that for?" he asks, the pink of his cheeks becoming more visible against the whip as he furrows his brow. 

"You have a little something on your face, Tsumu," you giggle 

"R-really?" his brown eyes widen as he wipes at his face with one of the paper napkins crumpled on the center of the table. He takes a bit of the mess with him, but there is still quite a bit of sugar smeared against his skin. "Did I get it?" 

"Not quite. You still have some on your cheek," you answer, tapping your own cheek for reference.

He tries to mirror your movements but wipes the wrong side with a confidence that makes your heart melt. "How about now?" he asks, looking at you expectantly. Fighting the laughter, you shake your head. "Damn, I really thought I had it this time."

"Here, let me," you say. And you don't know what compels you to do this, but you gently reach across the table and tenderly sweep the sweet cream off his chin. His skin is smoother than you thought it would be; Now that you think of it, you have never seen him with any kind of facial hair. You wonder if he can grow it at all.

Lost in thought, you don't realize how long you have been touching his face until his eyes go wide and flicker to yours. "Sorry, I-I don't know why I did that," you murmur embarrassedly. The flustered heat crawls up your skin, and you want the ground beneath you to open up and swallow you whole. "I-it was just a reflex."

If he was your boyfriend, this gesture would've been wholesome albeit the slightest bit cringy, but the fact of the matter, and the fuel to the fire of shame that flushes your skin, is simply this; 

Atsumu Miya is not yours; He doesn't love you. 

He regains his composure faster than you would give him credit for and meets your gaze. "Hah, thanks for that." he grins. "I guess I couldn't get it on my own."

Relieved that he wasn't creeped out by your sudden unintentional boldness, the two of you continue your coffee break, but despite your smile, you cannot ignore the painful twisting in your chest. 

~

There is a spring in Atsumu's step as he walks to his front door. His keys rattle along to the tune of the silly little song he hums to himself. Between the massive win from yesterday and lunch with you today, he finds himself on cloud nine. 

He opens the front door to his penthouse apartment to find his twin brother sprawled out on the couch, video game controller in his hands as he speaks through a headset chatting with his friends as they play online.

He gives him a nod and grabs an extra controller from the coffee table to hand to his Brother. "Where were you today Tsumu? Ya didn't have practice."

He grabs the controller and settles down on the couch. "I was out getting coffee with y/n"

Osamu's lips curl into a knowing smirk as he chuckles into the mic, "For the third time in a week."

"Oooh, Tsum Tsum's gotta crush?" a slightly-staticy voice gushes from the microphone. He recognizes it as his Jackals teammate Bokuto.

"Yeah, he's crazy about them. Every single time you guys have an off day, he is out with them and comes back with that dopey grin on his face."

"Ohhh is that the same person he is always facetiming with when we are in the hotels?" Another, slightly higher-pitched voice asks. 

Atsumu's cheeks redden as he pulls the microphone away from his Brother's mouth and yells into it." Hey! Stop snitching on me, Shoyo. It's completely normal for friends to hang out and talk on the phone."

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Osamu's dark eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Oh, just friends? You aren't together?" 

Atsumu takes a deep breath and clenches his fists as everyone pauses to hear his answer. "No, we aren't together." but as the sentence leaves his lips he feels something akin to guilt clinging on to his heart. 

Why do those words not sound right?

"Ohh I see," he Brother replies as his identical features twist into a smug smirk. "Then you wouldn't mind if I asked them out?"

"W-what?"

"Ohhh, plot twist," Bokuto squeals over the mic. "Samu's stepping into the ring."

"It's like one of those reality TV shows," Hinata adds enthusiastically. 

"Why would you ask e'm out?" Atsumu asks his twin. The question sounds more like an accusation as the coffee he drank earlier swirls around dangerously in his stomach. 

"Because I think they're cute," Samu says plainly. "And if ya aren't into them, you shouldn't have a problem with it."

He grits his teeth and childishly tosses his controller onto the couch. There are too many emotions inside of him, he cannot process it. Screw the game, he just needs to get away.

"Hey, Tsumu?" his Brother calls, watching him storm off down the hall. "Where ya going?"

"Shower," he grunts, stomping off toward the bathroom in hopes that some time under the hot water could help him make sense of things. 

As he locks himself in the bathroom, he fails to notice the mischievous smile that curves his Brother's lips. 

~

It's been a few days since your awkwardness at the coffee shop with Atsumu, and you have shaken off the shame that had been clinging to you like a leech…mostly. 

Okay, some of it may still be hanging on, but you ignore the unwelcome weight as you get closer and closer to the tall door to the twins' apartment. Although it is not Atsumu you are spending time with today, Osamu was the one to extend the invite this time around. 

The young chef called you yesterday afternoon, inviting you to swing by and test out a few potential items he wants to add to his restaurant's menu. Never one to turn down helping out a friend or the chance to eat some of his cooking for free, you hastily agreed.

The rubber soles of your sneakers hit the welcome mat as you step across the threshold like it's second nature. 

Osamu is hard at work in the kitchen, dicing vegetables with an impressive-looking knife. His dark brows furrowed in concentration as he makes quick work of an onion. The fumes waft through the air, threatening to bring tears to your eyes as he works, seemingly unaffected. 

Hey, ya made it!" he beams, setting the knife down when he notices your lingering presence.  I'm still prepping some stuff, but make yourself at home."

"Thanks," you say, setting your bag on the other side of the massive marble island. "Is there anything I can help with?" 

"Nah, I think I have everything taken care of." he says, turning quickly to stir a simmering pot on the stove. 

"Okay," you murmur, glancing around the surprisingly clean apartment looking for any sign of life. "So where's Atsumu today?"

"Still at practice I think," Osamu replies, his back to you as he works. "He'll be home later."

"Oh, I see." You frown slightly. Poorly concealed disappointment is woven into your tone. 

"Wow, tell me how ya really feel." Osamu chuckles, calling you out on your subtle favoritism.

An embarrassed heat rushes to your cheek as you struggle to find a way out of the mess you have made for yourself. "I'm sorry Samu, it's just Tsumu and I had kind of an awkward moment the other day and I had hoped that we could get back to normal."

His eyebrows shoot up in curiosity. "Oh? Awkward how?"

Taking a deep breath, you explain the whole whipped cream thing from the other day, and by the time you are done, Hyena-like cackles fill the room as he wipes tears from his eyes.

"I can't believe that," he gasps, holding his stomach, finding humor in the situation that is lost on you. "Ya really wiped his face and everything?"

"I didn't think it was that bad," you frown. Osamu knows his twin better than anyone. Is it possible that his reaction is similar to what Atsumu was thinking when you first did it? Have you ruined any chance of returning to the way things were?

All the 'what if's' pull you deeper into your own head as your moarle sinks deeper into it's depths. You don't even realize that Osamu has slid a plate in front of you until the steam from the rice and seasonings reaches your nose. 

"Order up," he says, "Looks like I lost ya there." 

You clear your throat "Sorry, I'm back, I was just thinking." 

"Well, it's time to think about the food," he places his hand on his heart dramatically. "This is my livelihood y/n."

Steam rises off three freshly shaped rice balls, each one is topped simply, but you have a feeling that the fillings within are anything but. "These look so good," you relent, shifting your attention. You poke the one closest to you curiously. "Which is which?'

He smirks and sits across from you at the kitchen table. "It's a surprise, you'll have to' guess what's inside."

Your stomach growls as you reach for one, but freeze when the front door swings open. Atsumu stands in the doorway, his eyes darting between you and his Brother.

"Oh, you're back," you say, giving him your best attempt of an unembarrassed smile. Your words spur him forward, but he walks straight past you and over to his Brother. Osamu is now wearing a smug smirk on his face.

"What are you doing, Samu?" he says darkly. 

"Nothing at all Tsumu, just what I was talking about the other day." He coos, continuing the staredown. 

Watching the Twins have a stand-off like this is strange; you have seen them bicker amongst themselves hundreds of times, but those arguments have this warm energy to them. This one is cold, and a deep shiver rattles your spine, chilling you to the bone. They seem to be speaking to each other telepathically making your spot at the countertop seem like one in the corner. 

It's awkward, and you feel that it is not your place to intrude. 

You should go.

As quiet as a mouse, you slip off of your barstool. If you can leave the apartment without being caught, twins will be able to work through whatever problem they are having with each other a little faster.

But apparently, the stool you were on doesn't quite get the memo and scrapes noisily against the floor. The ungraceful sound stops the twin's silent staredown as the turn to look at you instead. 

Your cheeks warm under Atsumu's gaze, and your mouth grows painfully dry. "Sorry, I'll be going now, I'll see you guys later.."

"Y/n, wait." Atsumu says, his eyes are wide as he rushes over to you.

"Tsumu? what are yo~" Those trembling hands of his take hold of you, your chin tilted upward as he clumsily places his lips on your own. You don't even think about it as you kiss him back, pouring your years of pining into the act, but instead of feeling empty, your heart overflows as the one person you have wanted for so long is yours. 

Your head spins as the familiar taste of whipped cream tingles your taste buds, but you're pretty sure you're hallucinating it due to the lack of oxygen. 

He's panting when he pulls away, his lips kiss swollen and pupils dilated as they stare into yours. But neither of you want to break the spell.

You need to talk about this.

You need to make sure this isn't just a one-time thing. 

But your fuzzy, floaty brain can't bring itself to act, not now. 

"Wow, that could've worked out any better," Osamu, who you forgot was still in the room, says clasping his hands together. The distraction was just what you needed to rewire your brain and pull away from his Twin. The grey-haired man has a look of pure victory on his face as he glances between the two of you. "I'll leave you kids to talk it out now."

"What are ya talking about, Samu?" Atsumu exclaims, his hand grabs your own as his Brother passes the two of you as if he were afraid that his twin will walk right out the door with you. "Are ya saying ya planned this whole thing?"

Osamu pauses briefly in the doorway, fingers lingering on the wood as he smiles, shooting you guys a wink. "Yep. See you later, lovebirds."

The door slams behind him, leaving you and Atsumu alone in the apartment. The space feels much bigger than it did a few minutes ago. 

"Hey." your thumb brushes against his knuckles gently and you give him a smile.  "Soooo, I guess this means that you like me too."

"Too?" he says, his tone laced in elated surprise as if his tongue wasn't just down your throat. "Do ya really like me then?" he asks hopefully. 

"Yes," you laugh. "I've liked you for a while, actually. But I was worried that I was too obvious about it, and I made you uncomfortable."

Mind. Blown.

Atsumu seems to be having an eureka moment. His features go from confusion to contemplation to realization as he replays your previous interactions in his head.  "Woah, I guess I had no clue. I was too focused on not makin a fool of myself to notice," he says at last. "But Samu saw right through us. Huh?"

"I guess he did." you chuckle; before this, you have only thought that this level of denseness only existed in bad fanfiction or made-for-television romcoms, but here you are.

"Damn, I'll have to thank him," he breathes; there is nothing but affection in his gaze as he cups your face. "But first, we gotta make up for lost time." 

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[evergreen-endo]

you are literally crazy if you thought i wasn't gonna write this for my pookiepies too. + some extras.

18+ minors dni. perverted jack off/cum analysis ft. takiishi chika, endo yamato, kanon banjo, hiragi toma. pt. 1 here.

takiishi has such a pretty cock. long and tanned and veiny. a hard dick is such an inconvenience to him though. doesn’t really jack off with the intention of self pleasure, just taking care of business. it does always make him feel much better though. he just doesn’t do it that frequently! when he does, he’s pretty quick because he knows what he likes and how to cum as fast as possible. another one that prefers to stand so he can cum into something; like a sink, the shower, whatever. gets really breathy when he’s close. soft grunts and groans as he’s cumming. literally like…squeezes the cum out of the tip of his cock. can i say something? i’m going to say something. and listen. i love this man, i really do. but his cum is foul. all he eats is junk. i really do not think he ever drinks water. it is so, so thick. thickest of all the windbreaker men. and i’m not going to lie to you, it’s the kind that is like super gloopy, and sticky, and tinged more of a creamy yellowish color. it’s a bitch to clean up. and he cums a lot, and has so much stamina. 

endo is so slutty with it. leaks so much precum. noisy as all hell, whines and whimpers and moans and gasps. throws his head back a lot, rolls his eyes back into his skull, thrashes around and bucks his hips. edges himself sometimes but he’s just a bit too impatient to do it properly. if he wants to cum, he wants to cum now. the day he discovered his nipples were sensitive he nearly exploded on the spot. gathers up some precum on his fingers so he can tweak and pinch at them while he works himself with his other hand. talks dirty like he’s not alone. so good, so so so good. just like that, yeahyeahyeah. fuck you’re gonna make me cum. gonna make a mess. and he does. strokes so much faster when he’s about to cum because he gets desperate so even if he were to shoot beautiful perfect ropes clean onto his abs, it ends up flying all over the place from the force of jerking his dick around. so out of breath and panting and gulping when he finishes because his mouth is so dry from having it hung open while he plays with himself. also! gets morning wood real real bad. humps his pillows, humps the bed, muffles his moans biting into the sheets, really likes being able to move his hips and thrust into something. again, he makes a huge mess. sweat everywhere he lays from exertion, spit soaked sheets and drool, and of course, cum all over his abdomen and the pillowcases. 

kanon banjo is a SLUT. WHORE. and a SKANK. (affectionate). ahem. let me elaborate. he is so depraved. bites his lip till he damn near starts bleeding, the type to get really delirious and giggle and smile with pleasure. realllyyyy likes cock rings. he gets so sensitive and whiny and whimpery, twitches like crazy. edges himself till his tip is bright red. pinches the fuck out of his nipples like can someone get him some clamps. does a lot of breath play! holds his breath for as long as he can, hangs his head off the edge of his bed…genuinely might be stupid enough to try autoerotic asphyxiation but i’m not gonna get into it LOL. anyway. cums hard every time. his cock is so restricted the cum spurts out in forks, like three separate streams shooting out of his tip….n then it sets off his cum kink and he’s gotta scoop it all up and use it as lube for a second round.

hiragi the man that you are. jacking off is the stress release/medicine he can only get in private! gets home from something stressful and beelines to the bathroom to unzip his pants and whip it out. i mean, he strains against those leather pants all day, giving it some fresh air feels good in and of itself. not taking his pants off fully puts a little pressure on his balls and he likes that. sighs so heavy when he wraps his hand around it. def the type to end up fucking into his hand, hips moving more than his arm is. so much deep sighing. his tummy clenches up really pretty when he’s close, and when he finally cums, he lets out lots of sounds that seem really frustrated; breathy, choked groans and strained grunts. i think his cum is a really good consistency, not too thick or thin, but the actual streams seem thin because it shoots so far! he kinda likes the sound it makes when it drips onto the floor. will purposefully move a towel or rug out of the way so he can hear it go plap onto the tiles.

[icouldbeyourprettygirl]

Sometimes I feel so left behind? My friends are in relationships or starting to date, and here I am, in love with a married man old enough to be my father. They're experiencing all kinds of firsts, and I've never even held hands with a guy.

[moeblob]

"Him? Oh, you know, he's kind of a loser." - probably everyone except for his younger brother.

Germaine is based on the layer of hell (Dante's Inferno) for material wealth before self, others, and god. So basically very materialistic and possessive of his belongings. Unfortunately, his younger brother qualifies as a belonging in his mind. So he does his absolute best to keep his brother safe and sound and scratch free - which is a bit tough in a post apocalyptic setting but he mostly manages.

Also a fact I just like to mention: he is incapable of lying.

[ricopop]

Would you let him into your house yes or no. anyways i thouvht itd be cute if he was a mailman. okaayyy bye

@superbellsubways

[saturnniidae]

Hear me out: hijack Anya's ghost au..

[arolesbianism]

Finally fixating on some nugget relationships that aren't horrible for everyone I love friendship <3

[fanfoolishness]

Just losing my mind at the implications that the companions have all been trying to help Rook grieve Varric, and Rook doesn’t know

Emmrich, wise and long-familiar with grief, being told by Neve and Harding what happened; understanding why sometimes he overhears Rook’s muffled voice in the Infirmary, talking to no one. He takes Rook to the Memorial Gardens and mentions he talks to his parents, thinking Rook might be comfortable with the same. Rook lights candles and rings bells but Emmrich watches, sorrowed, to see Rook still seems in deep denial.

Neve takes Rook to the Wall of Light; a Shadow Dragon Rook knows just what this means but any Rook can understand the solemnity, the power of remembrance. Neve reenergizes Brom’s light and looks to Rook, hoping Rook will mention wanting to make one for Varric. Rook is kind and comforting to Neve, but Neve is lost in wondering why Rook doesn’t take the chance to open up. She can’t figure it. Maybe Rook just can’t face it, not yet. Maybe Rook does something privately. She isn’t sure but it nags at her.

Davrin’s not big on talking about feelings. He’d rather just move on. But he sees the way Rook seems a little hollow sometimes, a little distant; he sees how Rook takes so quickly to Assan. “Hey Rook,” he says, and invites them to come with him and Assan to safe places in Arlathan, where the woods are clean and green and growing, where real sunlight dapples through the trees. Rook always seems to love these outings, seems lighter afterwards. But Davrin feels a little confused in that Rook never seems to realize the outings are mostly for them.

Taash is another person not big on feelings. But they know how much feelings can twist you up and mess with your head. When Lace tells them about Varric they feel badly for Rook, and think to how they feel when they’re struggling. Epic fights, dragon fights, drinks with the Lords. Taash is perfectly capable of doing all that on their own. But maybe bringing Rook along will help get them out of their head a little bit. Does it help? Taash isn’t sure.

Bellara’s double-versed in grief after what happens to Cyrian. Rook helped her through trying to reach him, and Bellara wonders, in her own pain, if she can help Rook a little bit too. Especially if Rook is elven, teaching Rook about the braziers and the challenges is another tool she can share about her or their people, another way that might help Rook with their grief. Neve’s told her that the Wall of Light didn’t seem to help Rook much, but maybe a different funeral tradition could help them instead. Rook helps her light the braziers and Bellara feels her heart lightening, though she wonders at Rook, who seems more moved by Bellara’s reactions than anything else.

Lucanis is nearly as allergic to dealing with feelings as Davrin is, but he immediately clocks how Neve and Harding are acting, and asks what happened before he joined them. They tell him about Varric and that they’re worried about Rook, that Rook seems to just be shoving those feelings down without dealing with them. Lucanis is no stranger to that, but while it’s fine for him, he doesn’t want to see someone who risked their life to save him share that struggle. He brings Rook to Caterina’s funeral planning to show Rook it’s okay to admit the loss and honor it. When that doesn’t seem to make a dent, he falls back to his standard - lavish meals, small gifts, coffee. He knows it would help him. He just wishes it helped Rook too.

Lace hurts the worst after losing Varric and Lace is where Solas’ magic comes the closest to faltering. Rook can see Lace is down, she’s quiet, she’s afraid after what happens with the gods escaping; but Solas’ magic holds and Rook can still never see quite why. Lace would love to sit over drinks one night and share stories about Varric, but she sees that Rook doesn’t seem ready, and she doesn’t want to push. Instead she writes letters to Ma, to the Inquisitor, to Cassandra, to Aveline, maybe even to Hawke. She writes out her stories with Varric’s old quill and she carries a bolt of Bianca with her. A dozen times she goes to talk to Rook about him, and when she tries Rook turns away or changes the subject. It hurts, but Lace knows she can’t make Rook talk about him, and she hopes in time it will get better.

This just absolutely crushes me the more I think about it 😭

Edit: Varric’s death is Rook’s personal companion quest every other single companion tries to help them with, and can’t 😭😭😭

[inbabylontheywept]

i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.