#but this was such a nice way to end it off!!

[pomegranatelifethis]

STAR IN THE SHADOWS

The massive walls of Wayne Manor were built to protect you, yet they could do nothing to ease the loneliness inside. This place felt less like a home and more like an endless void. Full, yet silent. Warm, yet unreachable. You saw your family every day, but it was as if none of them truly saw you.

As a child, you would often draw pictures for your father—Bruce Wayne—eager to show them to him. But he was always busy. He would take the paper, give it a quick glance, and mutter, "Looks nice," before returning to his work. And you… you would walk back to your room, crumpled drawing in hand, staring at the ceiling, asking yourself the same question:

“Does he really love me?”

As time passed, you stopped looking for an answer.

Jason... He was different.

Jason always noticed you. As a child, you followed him everywhere. Sometimes he was your big brother, sometimes your partner in crime, sometimes your hero. No matter how bad you felt, he would sit beside you, his laughter chasing away your dark thoughts.

But one day, he never came back.

When the news of Jason’s death arrived, your father said nothing. Dick stared into the distance. Tim averted his gaze. Damian didn’t care. But you… you shattered.

A world without Jason… was too quiet.

Seeing your father show no grief ignited something inside you. At night, you sneaked down to the Batcave, watching Bruce stare at the screens with cold, emotionless eyes. As if Jason had never existed. As if his memory wasn’t even worth mentioning. That night, whatever love you had left for your father turned into something else—something bitter.

Tim… Tim was the most logical. Always reading, always analyzing. But even when Jason died, he never showed his emotions. Maybe he buried them deep down, knowing how much it would hurt. He spent time with you, but he always kept his distance. The Tim who once held you in his arms and read you stories as a child had become someone who preferred to watch from afar.

And Dick…

Dick loved you, you knew that. But his love felt like freedom. Whenever he was near, whenever he smiled at you, it warmed your heart like the sun. But you could never hold on to him. He always had a mission, something more important to do. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he would say, "We’ll talk later, okay?" before leaving.

And Damian…

He treated you like a rival, always challenging you. Even as a child, he competed with you for Bruce’s attention. "You’re weak," he would say at every chance. "Useless. You don’t belong in this family." His only goal was to prove himself to Bruce, and the easiest way to do that was by pushing you down.

Years passed. You grew up. But Bruce never changed. Dick drifted away. Tim closed himself off. Damian kept looking at you with the same cold, condescending eyes.

One night, you walked into the Batcave and found them all gathered around the screen, focused on Gotham’s latest crime wave. They were preparing for their mission, too caught up in their work. You stood in the doorway, wanting to speak.

But no one turned to look at you.

You took a step forward, but no one noticed.

And that was when you realized.

You weren’t a hero to them. You weren’t a warrior.

To them, you were just a shadow.

And in the end, shadows always fade away.

[mggslover]

Something with your coffee

In which Aaron gives you a treat with your morning coffee.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: established relationship, bratty reader, sensual blowjob to mouthfucking, masturbation (fem!receiving) Word count: 1,4k A/n: don’t let the cute header fool you, it’s pure smut

The sun warmed the bare skin of your legs through the window as you put the coffee machine on. The deep aroma of the beans filled the kitchen. You loved days like these: waking up on a lazy Sunday without the use of an alarm, turning around in the sheets to see the peaceful look on your partner Aaron’s face as he’s still fast asleep, and softly tiptoeing your way to the kitchen to set a nice cup of coffee for the both of you.

Too enthralled in the sounds of chirping birds, you didn’t notice that Aaron had made his way over to you. He came fresh out of the shower, his face cleanly shaven, a towel wrapped low on his waist, and his hair still damp. His arms enveloped you in a hug from behind, his face in the crook of your neck as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. The smell of him intoxicating.

“Good morning,” his voice rasped.

You hummed in satisfaction, “Good morning.”

You turned around, back leaning against the kitchen counter as you took in the sight of him. With your hand reaching out, you let your fingertips slide over his broad chest. He gazed down at the act, savoring the feel of your skin against his.

“Made coffee for me too?”

You nodded, “Of course.” Your free hand reached out to caress his bicep, while your other hand continued its path down his stomach.

“You know what goes well with coffee?”

He looked you in the eyes, allowing you to continue.

“Cock,” you answered as you palmed his length through the towel.

He chuckled, shaking his head, making you grin widely at him.

“Is that so?” he smiled in amusement.

You bit your lip and nodded, feeling him stiffen under your touch. With a swift motion of your hand, you undid the knot on his towel, exposing him. The dark hairs on his pelvis were tidily trimmed, and his cock, although half-hard, looked mouthwatering to you.

You folded the towel in half, letting it fall to the ground before you lowered yourself to your knees. You licked your lips at the proximity, moving your hands gently up and down his thighs. When you looked up to meet his gaze, you noticed the dark glint of desire in his eyes as he expectantly looked down at you.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you took his length in your hand, slowly pumping it as you leaned in to press a kiss to his balls.

The contact made him shiver, his dick twitching in your hand. A breathless moan escaped your lips, and you licked a bold stripe up the skin. You hummed at the taste, repeating your action and ending it by wrapping your lips around the sensitive skin, tenderly sucking on it.

You continued letting your mouth play with his balls. Your thumb swiped over the head of his cock, the precum that coated your finger signaling you that he was ready for more. With a sensual confidence, you licked him from his balls to the midline of his shaft. Aaron moaned a perfect oh, making your stomach tingle in excitement at the sound.

You resumed where you left off, maintaining eye contact as your tongue moved up until it reached the slit of the head.

“Oh, honey,” he groaned, both of his hands stretching out to hold the back of your head.

You wrapped one hand around his shaft and placed the other on his thigh for leverage as you took the tip in your mouth.

Your cheeks hollowed, sucking on the slick tip. The way Aaron bit his lip encouraged you, flattening your tongue as you took more of him in. At a slow, deliberate pace, you bobbed your head.

Aaron wasn’t much of a moaner, compelling you to work hard to prove yourself deserving of the sounds he made. So, when you sloppily swirled your tongue around him, and a deep groan escaped from his chest, you felt a wave of pride wash over you.

With a sharp breath, you took him out of your mouth. “I can never get enough of you filling my mouth,” you giggled.

His hand cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his warmth. “Then why don’t you get back to work?”

His demanding words were a sharp contrast to his soft touch, and you felt yourself getting wet. You squeezed your thighs together, searching for some friction as you sunk your mouth back onto him.

The weight of his length felt heavy against your tongue, reminding you of how good he feels when he’s deep inside of you. You squeezed his thigh as you took more of him in, flicking your hand around his shaft in quicker motions, mirroring the movements with your mouth.

“Such a good fucking mouth,” Aaron growled. His head was thrown back in pleasure, and he pressed his hips forward, pushing his cock further down your throat.

You nuzzled your head, swallowing him until your chin rubbed against his balls. You held the stance for a couple of seconds, making the most out of the moment by humming and licking his cock, then pulling away in a breathless gasp.

Aaron observed you with a lustful eye. Your lips were darkened and wet with saliva, and your nipples stood hard. Aaron caressed your hair, fingers soothingly sliding over it.

“Who would’ve thought you were such a dirty girl?” He hummed in wonder.

You made a small sound in response, pressing a wet kiss to the side of his length. “I’m only like this around you.”

“Good,” he hummed.

Rhythmically, you started jerking his length. You left small licks and kisses on the reddened tip, occasionally dipping your tongue into the slit.

“I’m going to come if you keep up like that,” he grunted, rolling his hips against your hand. “Where do you want it?”

“Maybe in my coffee. I could use a creamer,” you playfully teased.

“You’re so naughty,” he tsked.

You lifted your shoulders in a shrug. “I think I’m pretty nice.” You squeezed his cock in your palm, swirling your tongue around his tip. “Letting you fuck my mouth and all,” you add to your argument.

He let out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating directly to your core. “I haven’t fucked your mouth,” he repeated. “All you’ve been doing is teasing me.”

You removed your lips from his tip with a pop. “Then why don’t you do something about it?” you blatantly state as you wrap your lips back around him.

He muttered a fuck. His grip on your head tightened, and he didn’t care about taking it slow as he thrust his hips into you. You relaxed your jaw, letting him hit the back of your throat repeatedly, swallowing around him.

Aaron did all the work for you, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth. It gave you the chance to reach down, your finger making contact with your clit. You moaned around his length in pleasure, trying to keep up with his pace as you rubbed your bud.

“That’s it, honey. Come with me.”

Your eyes watered, and Aaron pulled back. Your hand fastened its movements on your clit, and you used your other hand to jerk him off. Your tongue was stuck out, resting beneath his throbbing tip, ready for him.

His moans pushed you further to the edge. And with a cry you let go, your orgasm rippling through you. Your release ignited his, and with a deep groan, he came, thick spurts coating your tongue.

You made sure to swallow. Carefully licking him clean as his hips continued jolting in aftershocks.

With a lazy smile, Aaron looked down at you. He held you by your arms, gently lifting you up before pulling you into a warm embrace.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your head.

He held you steady against him as he reached out to grab a cup of coffee from the machine. He brought the cup to his mouth, taking a sip.

“The coffee’s cold. How about a round two?”

[gojira007]

The angled perspective you give us on the table is really nicely done, not only creating a keen sense of depth but also letting you REALLY play up the Dynamic of the poses bouncing off of each other; the way it puts the focus on Big Active Bulkhead and Wheeljack at the ends with the reactions of the rest of the team caught between is especially good, and I do love how distinctive each of those reactions are; Arcee trying to Play It Cool while poor Ratchet does a spit-take is especially good.

I drew them after 2 years.  love them~ <333

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until��

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[aangelinakii]

TO YOUR SHOULDERS.

— you always looked better with your hair down.

summary : despite always wearing your hair up, jason thinks it looks better down.

note : yes this is totally ripped off from a scene in dexter s4,, and also reader is described with long hair but not explicitly fem ??? so just a heads up for that

it had never been a question of if you looked nice, it was just that it worked better for you in every way.

your trusty, dusty claw clip.

having your hair out of your face helps you think, helps you concentrate. you don't need to worry about fly-aways when you're eating, nor food getting stuck in the ends. it goes with every outfit, your claw clip.

whoever invented this thing needs everything they deserve and more, wherever they are.

that morning, as you dressed for work, you'd been standing in the bathroom mirror, clip lodged between your teeth as you gathered your hair at the back of your head.

jason's reflection emerged through the door, and he stepped up to the toilet next to you, lifting the seat up with the back of his knuckle — something he preferred doing to avoid getting germs on his fingers, which he'd wash off anyway.

but he paused, looking at you, and you could feel his gaze, as well as see it in the mirror if you tilted your head just a little.

your movements never ceased, and you reached to the front of your face, fingers closing around your clip.

"hey," jason piped up, almost urgent in a way that caused you to drop your hair and spin to look at him. his eyebrows were raised, but lowered in an instant, and his eyes were calm, kind.

after touching the toilet, he didn't want to reach up and ruin your hair, but he ghosted a hand over the front of your locks. "have i ever told you how good you look with your hair down?"

no, he hadn't, but now he has.

instinctively, you pulled away with a bashful grin threatening to poke out from pulled-up cheeks, soft like fresh bread. "really?" you breathed out, a small laugh like a song to your voice.

"really," he smiled with a nod.

"okay, i'll keep it down today." as you leaned forward into him, placing a hand on his toned chest, your smile still lingered as you kissed him, and you could feel the muscles in his face doing the same.

however, you hadn't kept your promise — not that it was a promise at all, but it was a compliment and it had made you feel warm and fuzzy.

but it's a force of habit, putting your hair up.

so when the work you were doing got a little bit more stressful, a little bit more things for you to rush around and do, the claw clip you'd kept safe in your bag just in case came out and clamped itself in your hair, keeping it up and out of your face.

by the time you'd closed the front door behind you and kicked your shoes off, jason was rounding the corner into the hallway to welcome you home.

your bag slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor as he appeared, and your arms stretched out for him. there was a slight pause in his actions, but it was barely anything noticeable in the exhaust of your head.

his wide frame slotted between your open arms, strong biceps holding you within his own. whilst your hands lay half-limp on his back, jason's embrace was tight, a hand coming to position on the nape of your exposed neck.

soft kisses tickled your temple.

"missed me?" you chuckled, voice muffled by the fabric of jason's grey t-shirt.

to which he only hummed in return, pulling his head away from where he'd been kissing to burrow in the crook of your shoulder. and then he said something, but you couldn't make it out, for his words had got lost in the threads of your clothes.

"speak up?" you offered, carefully twitching your head away so he'd look up.

when his face finally emerged, you found his black hair messed with affection and his eyes soft like the fur of a labrador. his lips thinned with a similar shyness you'd felt that morning.

"you put your hair up," jason finally mustered himself up to say, pads of his fingers dancing along the curls that had fallen down at the back after a busy day.

with a sharp inhale, you brought a hand to feel the clip, as if just realising it was there. "oh! sorry, it's been a long day."

you felt jason's hand rise to the clip too, and you moved yours away, settling it around the base of his neck, where your other hand met it.

"it's okay." his voice was soft and soothing, like a cup of chamomile and honey on a horridly rainy day; the scent of lavender when you're trying to get to sleep.

suddenly the tension at the back of your head was lost.

jason's other hand came around, brushing through the hair released from its clip, coming up to the top of your head to style it to frame your face. his eyes never looked at the hair, only you.

"perfect."

and the styling hand rested upon your cheek, thumb absently skimming across the skin.

with a gentle pull on his neck, you leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut, to meet him in the middle. if you were perfect, he was heaven-sent.

[cowgirlvi]

mdni.   sub-bottom jinx.   fem-top reader.   face fucking.   deep throating.   strap-on usage.

wc; 1,077

thinking about jinx deep throating your strap. it started off as an innocent oral fixation. you first noticed it with the way she was always biting her nails— chipping her brand new polish— or chewing on the ends of her braids. then it progressed into something more obscene one day, seemingly out of nowhere. jinx asked— or, more so, demanded— to cockwarm your strap with the inside of her cheek, casually while the two of you watched a movie.

and eventually, it led to this moment.

jinx’s body is entirely void of clothes as her head hangs off the edge of the bed. despite her nakedness, you aren’t touching her pussy, not today. you pulled off her striped pants earlier— the pair that looks like a candy wrapper— along with her dark red panties, cooing at the sticky string of slick that connected to the cotton fabric.

jinx’s legs are splayed wide so you can stare at her spread pussy while you fuck her throat. her cunt is leaking like a fountain down her thighs and you’re sure she’s laying in a sopping wet puddle of her own arousal. you doubt she notices, though; too dumb on cock at this point.

you’ve never sucked someone’s cock before or a strap or any other phallic objects for that matter, so you aren’t sure if it hurts or not. you assume it must have to— at least a little bit— but you know jinx prefers it that way based off the way her little clit is twitching, begging for attention it won’t be receiving.

you know it makes jinx feel pleasantly dizzy, like she’s in a dark void of silence, that it’s almost meditative for her. she’s told you as much before and you’re happy to be of service. of course, you don’t mind the obscene view or noises either.

“hnngh, euwalkh, euwalkh.” that’s the sound jinx’s throat makes as you use her like a fucktoy. it’s pornographic and humiliating and it echoes throughout the quietness of your bedroom.

her throat is a light shade of red and you can see the outline of your strap every time you press it inside her. her throat is tiny, it’s an incredibly tight fit— maybe as small as the hole she has between her legs.

her thin fingers are gripping the back of your thighs, as if a small part of her believes that she can control the pace of your thrusts— but she quickly realizes that she’s not in control of anything when you shove your cock past her gag reflex, and then she’s digging her nails into your skin without meaning to.

after a lot of initial practice, jinx can officially take your cock to the hilt, until your silicone balls are pressed against her little nose and she can briefly smell your own wet pussy. she likes when you stuff her throat full of your shaft, she likes how it deprives her brain of any oxygen and she begins to feel lightheaded. the static in her ears is also a nice touch— it’s soothing, better than hearing the taunting whispers.

“fuuck, you’re taking so much of me, baby.” but your voice sounds faraway to her, like she’s underwater, or maybe you are, or possibly both of you— who is she to say? jinx really can’t decide on anything right now.

you’re playing with her tits like stress balls. you like the way her hips hump the air— how she writhes beneath you when your nails scrape across the pink, pointed tips of her nipples. that’s the only stimulation she’s allowed to receive; you pinching her nipples between two fingertips and then groping the entire delicate mounds with a sense of perverted urgency. 

your hands roam greedily over jinx’s minimal curves, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh like you’ve been starved of her body for far too long. your fingers gently trace down her body, running along the outline of her abdomen and she flinches as if it tickles, resulting in her choking on more of your cock.

snickering, you tangle your fingers in her braids, scratching your nails against her scalp and pulling on her hair until she feels a shiver run through her entire body— pins and needles. her vision is blurring and darkening at the edges. jinx moans noisily around your strap.

using your grip on her hair, you pull her head back further, shoving your cock inside her throat deeper than before. you hump your hips against her face with an increase in speed, and the change in angle shoots electricity up your spine. the pressure on your clit is perfectly intense, setting every nerve-ending in your body alight with white-hot pleasure.

your eyes fall on the sight of her desperate pussy again, the way it’s quivering, how her clit is swollen and engorged and a purple-ish pink. her little cunt is glistening under the lowlights of your bedroom, it’s drowning in her own juices.

you groan, your head falling back and your thrusts becoming erratic. you think just the sight of her pussy— the way her legs are spread whorishly— is enough to make you come.

jinx whimpers when your thrusts become unexpected and staccato. this isn’t the first time you’ve come from fucking her face. with how tight her throat is, the way it grips onto your strap just right, it grinds precisely against your clit. the sensation is overwhelming, all-consuming, and you’re lost to the pure, unadulterated pleasure radiating from your core.

”mmffuck! doing so good, sweetheart— unghh!”

you feel like you’re on a different astral plane as you orgasm against her face, and all you can think about is what it would be like to come down her throat, to stuff jinx’s esophagus full of the sticky strings of your essence— forcing her to taste you for days with how deep you are. you want to paint her tonsils with your release.

jinx gags and chokes, throat constricting around the rigid shaft as you grinds your hips in tight circles, working her neck like a fleshy cocksleeve. jinx’s pink eyes are teary when her own orgasm slams into her, cunt clamping down on nothing as your ruthless face-fucking pushes her over the edge. her tangy juices squirt out of her pussy, splattering against the baby pink bedsheets, marking them with the proof of her intense, cock-drunk ecstasy.

taglist; @marvelwomenarehot0, @marieeeluvsyou, @mxchi-mxxn, @el-amor-que-tu-quieres, @jinxvex, @mwahbabe, @teddybearbutch28, @stupendousbananasharkcop, @nahcala, @ellieslob, @idontwannabehereatm, @rhian88, @kyur1jinx

(2/9/25)

[zarla-s]

i need to know more about your feelings of tf2 comic 7 because youre the heavymedic expert

I liked it! Satisfying happy conclusion for (almost) everyone, especially since I was a little worried they were going to kill everyone off, haha. Not a lot of Heavymedic stuff in there but I wasn't expecting much, and really it was about the Administrator and her story, so it makes sense the mercs wouldn't really take top billing for it.

There were a few cute things though! I know "standing next to each other" is like the most graspingest of straws but you know what, it made me smile each time so I don't care.

The big thing of course being Heavy grabbing his boob, which to me reads like him stopping Medic from trying to help the Admin, which I think is sweet in his own way. Medic has his healing instincts!

Medic also puts his hand on his back as they walk away, which I also think is sweet. It looks like he's comforting him.

I really loved the ending sequence where everyone gets together for that dinner party. It's just such a great bookend to how the comics started - initially when their team disbanded, everyone split off and did their own thing. Some of them didn't even keep track of where the others were! A few kept in contact, but mostly all of them just left the others and they didn't seem particularly concerned or interested in each other.

Compare that to them at the end of the comic! Seven years after everything that happened, they're all meeting up together for dinner! Voluntarily! They're introducing their families to each other! They don't have any contracts or jobs forcing them to spend time together. They WANT to have dinner together. SPY TAKES OFF HIS MASK AND IS FINE WITH IT! I just love that so much. They care about and trust each other after everything that's happened, all the years that have gone by. Team as family was CANON AFTER ALL

I think this whole sequence also sheds a nice light on Medic! Medic's been perceived as probably the most uncaring of the group, given that he did sign up with another team for the money and said he wouldn't mind fighting them again (although not too soon after that he ended up saving all their lives against direct orders). A lot of people interpreted that as him not really caring about the others or anything at all, but that's not the case!

Medic kept and raised his baboon baby! He didn't abandon it or use it for parts or anything, he kept and raised it for seven years! Responsibility!

Not only that, Medic hasn't abandoned his friends, signed up with a new team, forgotten them or tossed them aside. He's with them at the dinner! He comes with his baboon baby! He wants to be with them too! He cares about them, genuinely. And of course, the final shot is with him by Heavy's side, both of them just so happy to be there with everyone else.

Love that Medic's smile still looks unhinged too lol. Would I have loved Heavy holding onto Medic's waist? The two of them wearing matching rings? Of course! But them so close to each other and an obvious irrefutable confirmation that Medic loves and cares about his team and wants to be with them is really lovely. Makes me feel fuzzy, haha.

There's speculation too that Medic came with Heavy's family as that person in the back there but who can say for sure. |D

[goatgoesmbe]

Y/N: Torturing König for information

König: Oh... that's quite nice

Y/N: Why can't anyone take me seriously. Fuck this, Ghost can deal with this

König: NO please- I can be normal about this!

Y/N: Can you.

König: ...no

Y/N: GHOST! COME HERE!

👀👀👀👀

Alright now, hear me out anon- i hope you don't mind me turning this to 3k words porn.

big thamks to my mommy-auntie (montie?) @ahobaka-trash for beta-reading

KonigxReader + GhostxReader tw : edging, implied torture, hostage interrogation, blueballing, open ending

Ghost wasn't dumb. He knew exactly what was going on in that giant colonel's head, ever since he saw you innocently beaming at them, gesturing at your catch, a hostage.

Konig was his name, a fucking colonel. No offense to you luv, but from how everyone glanced at each other, no one believed you could take down that hunk of a mountain.

But a hostage is a hostage.

"GHOST! COME HERE!" he heard you yell. After a nod from Price, he then stepped inside the interrogation room.

You were not assigned to interrogate him at first. But Konig is tight-lipped, barely flinching at any pain, and made no sound except when he demanded your presence.

Dark brown iris lazily trailed to their hostage, who was now shirtless- well except for the shirt on his head which they couldn't get off him. It was like the colonel simply let them do what they wanted, but put his foot down when they overstepped his boundaries. Like he was in charge instead of them.

Ghost took in the cuts and bruises. They definitely looked painful, unpleasant. But from what he heard when he stood behind the one-way mirror, the soft moans and heavy breathing, it seemed like it was doing the opposite.

bastard's fucked in the 'ead, the lieutenant thought.

The usual method of torture wouldn't work on him. Ghost needed to improvise.

He said nothing and simply stood behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear "Do you trust me, luv?".

You looked back, big doe eyes blinked at him in confusion. That innocent look on your face always made him question how the fuck did you survive working alongside them all this time.

"Um.. yes-?" a gasp slipped out your lips before you could say more, gloved hand fisting your hair and tugging back towards him. You went rigid like a kitten held by the scruff.

"Yeah?" He asked again in a low purr, the other hand trailing up your torso to squeeze your tit.

You gasped again, staying still as your eyes immediately looked at the large mirror where you knew the others were watching. Expecting anyone to say something.

Silence 

Like they were waiting for your greenlight. No interruption from your captain, nor the hostage. It was all up to you what's gonna happen next.

Silence, except for faint panting from the colonel tied up in front of you.

You nodded.

And instantly, your top was ripped off of you.

You didn't get enough time to react to it, your pants got yanked down, now pooling around your knees before slowly falling to your ankles.

"Y'gonna talk now?" Ghost asked, slipping into that persona he always used in this situation. Straight to the business and no-nonsense, nonchalant about his colleague who was now half naked in his grip.

You could see Konig's eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his breathing was heavier than before. Then, his blown pupils glanced up at Ghost while he tilted his head as if he was taunting him.

The grip on your hair tightened and you were pushed forward just enough for Konig to lean in and tug your bra down with his teeth.

Your lips parted and you feel that clench. Mind and body against each other. You shouldn't be enjoying this, a voice in your head said, scolding you for getting your panties wet.

With your tits now exposed to the cold air of the interrogation room, your nipples perked invitingly. You held your breath when your hostage opened his mouth to have a taste, only for it to be denied when you got yanked back.

"Well?" Said a voice beside your ear, though it was directed at the man in front of you who stared unblinking at your lieutenant before trailing down to your breasts which were now being fondled by two gloved hands.

"..What do you want to know?" The colonel said, sounding serious for the first time since you've met him.

"You work for Makarov?" The question was growled at him, yet your body reacted with a shiver and you couldn't help but whimper. Red flushed your cheeks, your eyes once again darting to the mirror.

Konig simply hummed in response, and you couldn't really tell if that was a yes or a no. Ghost seemed to have the same thought since he pinched your nipples hard and pulled. 

"Please-!" You yelped out a plea, not really knowing who it was directed to.

The cloth on the hostage's head shifted, he was licking his lips under the hood. "He is a client" he finally said. You let out a sigh of relief when Ghost loosened his hold but didn't let you go, massaging your breasts more softly as his fingers rubbed your nipples as an apology.

That was a big intel, Makarov is working together with Kortac. The colonel himself confirmed it, an enemy, not some unlucky passersby.

You tried your best to take all the information, you really did. But it was really hard with how your lieutenant fingers danced on the sensitive nubs.

"You were with ‘im?" Ghost asked. His voice is gruff yet steady compared to the colonel in front of you, like it's normal to use his coworker as an interrogation tool. To be honest, you are quite scared of what Ghost can do to you to make Konig talk.

And you're ashamed of yourself for how that fear brought heat to your core.

Konig didn't respond once again, a silent command for Ghost to do something. And you wondered who was really in charge here, definitely not you though.

Your train of thought was interrupted when a pair of strong arms hoisted you up, one leg raised until your knee was pressing against your chest while your other leg was left dangling. Despite the cotton panties covering your cunt, you still felt very exposed, being spread out in front of one of your enemies of all people.

A pathetic whine slipped out of your lips, which were swollen from you biting down on them previously. A thick finger rubbing between your folds through your panties. Slow yet firm, soaking  the cotton  even more.

"Were you with Makarov?" Ghost asked again, voice lowering an octave. Whether to intimidate or maybe he was just as affected by all this too.

"No" Konig responded shortly. His body shook slightly and you noticed how he tried to pull his hand out of the handcuffs behind the chair. Like he wanted to touch you, or maybe himself, from the obvious bulge in his pants.

You swallowed at the sight.

"D’you know where 'e is?" Your lieutenant asked as his finger kept rubbing you, trailing up to circle your clit through your panties which made you whine.

Konig stayed silent again. Like he didn’t want to interrupt the lewd voices you made as you slowly unraveled in your superior's hands.

Ghost clicked his tongue, feeling impatient but still played along with the game. His fingers trailed up to the waistband, trailing across the fabric slowly like he was taking his time appreciating the delicate panties before ripping it off and tossing it with your other torn garments.

Before you could have a chance to mourn the loss of your panties, two thick fingers rammed deep into your pussy. You could only squeal, throwing your head back against his shoulder. "Ah, ah, ah-" A gasping moan with each thrust aiming at your gspot.

"Where. is. Makarov?" Ghost growled, each word emphasized with a hard thrust that got you keening.

"Si- Ghost, please.." It took you a second to realize that was your own voice.

"Not up to me, sweet'eart" The lieutenant replied without taking his eyes off the hostage.

You panted, following his gaze to the colonel in front of you. His half-lidded eyes, pupils so wide with light blue outlining them, and if you focus past the wet squelching noises you can hear him breathing heavily.

"..Konig"

His whole body jerked at your plead. "Scheiße" You heard him hiss under his breath.

"I don't know, we only interacted through a third person or a call" He continued. With your mind all jumbled, you questioned for a second about who he was talking about, oh right Makarov, we're gathering intel on Makarov.

"Don’t even try lyin’" Ghost tutted and curled his fingers, pressing against that sweet spot that made you whine pathetically.

You heard Konig chuckle breathlessly. "Oh, i won't lie to this hübsche kleine schlampe. Don't want to break her heart" he shrugged.

Ghost held back from rolling his eyes and scoffed. "What’d 'e pay ya for, then?".

Expecting another silence, Ghost didn't wait for a response. Pushing you down on your knees before shoving your face onto the colonel's crotch. "Open" He whispered lowly in your ear, tilting your head just so, your lips pressing against the zipper on the hostage’s pants.

With your teeth, you tugged the zipper down. And your eyes widened when you saw his throbbing cock. You took in the veiny shaft, the pinkish tip glistening with precum under the dim lighting of the interrogation room. filthy git went full-on commando on his job.

"What’d 'e pay you to do?" Ghost asked once again as he pried your mouth open, a silent command for you to make good use it. Then you felt the colonel go rigid when you wrapped your lips around the tip.

"..Retrieving a package" The colonel answered as he tried to buck his hips, hoping to shove more of his dick into your mouth. You started to panic, you didn't know if you could take more. He was really big, too big. And that's something, since you've taken Ghost before.

"What's the package?" The lieutenant asked as he slowly pushed you down, forcing you to take more, not caring about your muffled noise.

You felt the tip nudging the back of your throat, your eyes tearing up and you whined around the girthy cock as Ghost kept urging you to keep going. This is how you're gonna die, choking on some enemy's dick.

"Verdammt- i don't know" You heard Konig say through gritted teeth when you felt your nose buried in a bush of hair, somehow managing to take all of him. Looking so pliant and pathetic, batting your wet eyelashes up at him, as you focused on remembering how to breathe.

Ghost jerked your head back, and forward, again and again. Fucking your throat with the colonel's dick, hard without mercy.

"Don't give me that bullshit" Growled the lieutenant. Though, he didn't expect a response, letting the hostage lose himself in the wetness of your mouth.

Before you were  pulled back by your hair, letting go of the cock with a wet pop. And you heard Konig whimper, his cock twitched violently, robbed from his release.

It took a while for Konig to respond, trying to regain his control back from the pleasure, steadying his breathing before speaking. "I really don't know, they told me nothing, I asked nothing. We only care about finishing the job" He said. Though, you can see his eyes glint mischievously. He was keeping something from them and felt in control because of it. Taunting your lieutenant to give him more of you in exchange for that.

It seemed that  Ghost thought of the same thing since he yanked you back up and forward. You thought he wanted you to sit on the colonel's lap and you were going to, but then he held your hip in one hand while the other still had a fistful of your hair.

Then he shifted you above Konig’s lap, until your pussy lips are rubbing against the tip of the colonel's cock. Taunting back.

"Try again" The lieutenant's voice rumbled. You didn't know if you imagined it but you could hear him smirk.

The colonel was holding back from bucking his hips. Not wanting to give in just yet so he could get more. Just a bit more. "As I said, I have no clue" He shrugged, the smugness in his voice is more obvious now.

Even though you had expected it, you still gasped. It was just the tip, but the stretch made you exhale shakily. Your legs trembled slightly, and you were sure without Ghost holding you up you would definitely fall onto the colonel's lap.

Konig sighed, whether it was in exasperation or pleasure you didn't know. Probably both.

"Missiles.. possibly nukes," The colonel said without being asked. "Overheard them talking about it, though my Russian is rusty so take it with a grain of salt" he continued.

Ghost hummed into your ear, gloved hand reaching down to toy with your sensitive clit. It was as if he was rewarding you for making the hostage give them such valuable intel.

Though, he didn't reward the man who gave the intel. Making him suffer by making you clench around his tip, not letting him sink even another millimeter of his dick inside  you.

"Where are they stored?" The lieutenant asked, lips against your ear, hot breath making you squirm. There's an itch in your core, this was torture for you too.

"Stop movin’, princess, unless ya want me to stop 'ere" He whispered lowly so only you could hear it, stopping the circling motion on your clit to pinch so hard it almost hurt. It's too much, but also not enough. And now you're dripping down an enemy's dick like a slut.

"I can pinpoint the location on your map" Their hostage hissed, his voice was a bit shaky and those bright blue iris locked in at the spot you and him were connected. "Untie me" He added, his eyes now locked onto your lieutenant's.

Ghost scoffed condescendingly. "Ain’t 'appenin'" he said.

You heard the colonel let out a dry chuckle. "Worth a shot" he murmured to himself.

"Just shoot it" Ghost demanded whilst moving his fingers on your clit. Flicking with his thumb, sliding two fingers up and down whilst squeezing the sensitive nub between them, massaging the top agonizingly slow, making tiny circles.

"Go on, tell 'im, luv" Deep voice purred sultry into your ear and you cried out when he lifted the hood of your clit and roughly rubbed the exposed underside. You started shaking, your back painfully arching with the overwhelming pleasure. Too much.

"Konig.. Konig-" You pleaded pathetically, squeezing the head of his cock inside of you. More of your slick dripping down his shaft.

Konig groaned, both at the sinful sight and the way your sweet voice sang his name. "Why should I? I don’t need you slitting my throat once youget all the information" He sneered.

A gloved hand slapped your clit and you squealed. "Please, please-" You whined. Doe eyes all teary as you locked eyes with the hostage.

You could feel Konig jerk beneath you as your channel clenched uncontrollably around his tip.

"We won't" Ghost responded. "Be daft of us to get rid of a bloody colonel just for this shite, and you know it" He added.

Konig snorted in response but said nothing.

"So?" Your lieutenant asked once again, pushing for an answer.

"I assume you would keep me here to exchange for something with Kortac, it's rude to keep your guest tied, no?" Konig said mockingly, making  Ghost narrow his eyes.

"You ain't no bloody guest" Ghost growled and pinched your clit again, tugging it painfully while his other hand pulled at your nipple in a similar way, making you go crossed-eyed. "Now, spit it out" The lieutenant added, his voice was booming compared to your little pleas "pleasepleaseplease".

The colonel sighed, like he took pity on you. "Abandoned hospital at the north" He finally said. And you could just kiss him for making Ghost let go of your sensitive nubs and rub them in a much gentler manner.

"Thought that was Al Qatala's base now" Ghost mumbled to himself, a bit too casually like he didn't just try to ruin you.

"Yeah, the Russian made a transaction with them," Konig said. Blue eyes trailing back to you, observing the state you were in.

"Now, I told you everything you need.." The colonel purred, eyes crinkling which made you think that he was smiling at you underneath the hood.

And with that, all hell let loose.

The lieutenant's hands on you started rubbing with the intention of making you come. He let go of your nipple and went south, tracing the rim of your entrance where you still have the head of the colonel's cock inside.

Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slipping inside you again. Not caring that you were still stretched open.

Eyes crossed, toes curled. Panting and whining like a little puppy when you felt those fingers go deeper, rubbing your gspot at the same pace as his other hand on your clit.

Your thighs were trembling, your moans getting higher and higher as your climax threatened to wash over you. And then, Ghost didn't stop Konig from thrusting up this time and you lost it.

Wave after wave of pleasure, your cunt clenched uncontrollably around Konig, moaning like a whore.

Just when you wanted to grind down for more stimulation, Ghost lifted you by the back of your knees. Konig let out a string of curses in German, watching the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

"..Simon" You whimpered, teary eyes looking up at him with a pout. You didn't have the capacity to care about saying his real name in front of an enemy after such orgasm. Looks like your usage for interrogations is finally over – and you are not sure whether you were useful or just looked pretty enough.

"Don't worry princess" He murmured, shifting his hold to lift you in a bridal carry. "You've been good, we'll reward you" And with that, he kissed your forehead. You didn't see the way his eyes shifted to the one-way mirror where the rest of the team had been watching from behind it.

You could only let him carry you out of the interrogation room, heavy steps from his boots filling the silence.

And Konig?

"Verdammte Hurensöhne!" Raspy voice boomed behind you before it was muffled as Ghost closed the door behind him. Not caring that the hostage still had his hard and throbbing cock out, wet from your slick and his own precum.

But of course, if you took pity on him and if you asked everyone nicely, maybe  they would let him watch- or since the interrogation had been more than successful, he could join. Letting him enjoy their leftover, to fuck everyone’s cum deeper inside your cunt.

Just say the word.

...

taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @midwesternwitchery,

[chimielie]

hold ‘em up (above my heart)

summary: Atsumu x Physical Therapist!F!Reader. the sun rises and sets over and over as your relationship progresses from friends to pro yearners to more.

wc: 4.3k

cw: friends with benefits subplot and all that entails; not explicit, just suggestive, reader is fighting for her LIFE in her brain, atsumu is just chilling (not really)

a/n: hi i didn’t die :3

“Hands up,” you say, voice low so as not to disturb the peace of the morning.

Atsumu raises his arms, elbows bent, making a frame of his face. His blond hair is pale, almost white because his little kitchen window faces east and he wakes before it rises above the upper pane. You sidle past him, back to his front, ignoring the weight of his hand as it settles on your hip while you reach up for the granola you keep in the cabinet next to the fridge.

He likes traditional Japanese breakfasts, the savory and umami flavors of natto and rice and miso. You have a sweet tooth and a craving for crunchy food, like a wild animal that needs to grind down its molars. On the days he has work, he settles for an omelette (or scrambled eggs if he fucks it up). You eat the same thing every morning or you'll be sick.

Growing up, Atsumu was never a morning person, but he sleeps better on the nights you're next to him. He doesn't get angry when you slosh milk over the side of his bowl onto his dining table, doesn't snap when you ask him what his plans for the day are. Maybe this is what being an adult is, these steady waters and calm skies.

You don't speak much as you chew, staring into space and thinking the slow thoughts of the exhausted, and he busies himself scrolling through his group messages and social media accounts.

There's a request from a verified account, a retired athlete-turned-model. He knows her name, has seen her in ads, bumped into her at the last Olympics. He clicks on it.

Hey, handsome. I'll be in Osaka this upcoming weekend - let's get a drink!

"I'm gonna shower," you're patting your hair, looking irritated. It always sticks up in the morning, no matter how you sleep on it, a few particular strands defying gravity.

"You should go to work like that," he says, voice still rough even if his mind's woken up. His accent is thicker in the morning, you've told him, but he can't hear it.

"Hell no," you say. "You're the only one who gets to see this morning glory for now."

"I better be," his grin is roguish, running his hand through his own bird's nest. "C'mon, you gonna let me shower with you or what?"

"No, you'll use up all my nice shampoo again!" You fake running to the bathroom, keeping your pace slow enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist and tackle you down, careful to fold himself so that you land on top of him, body between his legs, face cushioned on his chest.

He leaves his phone face up, forgotten on the table.

He's toweling off his hair, dressed in his practice uniform, while you're packing your bag for the day in the kitchen. His apartment is small, way smaller than some of the other guys' on the team, but he grew up crammed into a room with his mom and his brother. He'd toured one penthouse and decided he couldn't live with all that space strangling him.

He'd tried to get Samu to bunk with him like old times, but his brother had just said I'll sleep three meters from your dirty laundry in hell, and that was the end of the argument.

Besides, he has a lot of car bills to pay. He managed to fold another Mazda last month and you've been carpooling in your ancient Toyota while he waits to get license privileges again ever since.

"You got a text, by the way," you say casually, digging through your purse with your lips twisted to the side. "Aha!" You pull out a tube of lipstick triumphantly. "You should respond before you forget."

"Ah, was it Samu?" He asks, crossing back into the bedroom to put away his damp towel.

"Nah, the model," you call. "Sorry, I read your texts."

You're fighting the growing bitterness of the words, trying to sound jaunty and uncaring and casual. The admission of invading his privacy weighs heavily on your shoulders; you can't make yourself look up into his face when he comes into the kitchen.

"I don't care," he shrugs. "You can read whatever you want."

"You shouldn't say that," you try to laugh and wince instead. He just grunts and picks up the phone, swiping away from the conversation and leaving her on read. "I don't have the right, don't I? I shouldn't have—"

"I really don't care," he cuts across your strained attempt at an apology again.

"You should!" You sound like you're about to stamp your foot at him. He doesn't understand why you're so angry; he doesn't bite. "Aren't you gonna get mad? Shouldn't we be fighting?"

"I don't wanna fight," he rubs his large, calloused hand over your shoulder, your upper trapezius, to cup the back of your and pull you into a loose embrace. You stand, dumbfounded, chin pushed into his shoulder, hands at your sides. "Do you? We can if you want to."

"No," you whisper. "Sorry, I—sorry."

"'S okay," he says, digging his thumbs into the tight knots of muscle. "No big deal. Here, you dropped your thingy."

The thingy is the tube of lipstick, a deep berry color, rolling towards the edge of the table. He steps back and squeezes your cheeks in one hands, prompting you to part your lips slightly. He does it how he knows you do, a soft smear on the lower lip and two dabs made sharp by a swipe of his thumbnail on the outer creases, all blended together at the end for a subtle touch of color.

"You look like a frog about to burp," he says when he's done. You laugh so hard you cry.

On the car ride to work, you keep chewing on your lip. He frowns when he notices, all his work bitten off.

You wait for him to get out of the car first, a holdover from the days when you would wait five minutes so no one would notice that you were coming from the same place. In some ways, it's easier that he crashed his car; so convenient that you volunteered to be his chauffeur. He comes to your side, opens your door. You squint at him, jutting your chin out like you're bracing yourself for something.

"I wasn't gonna go out with her," he tells you, a secret between you, him, and the hard asphalt of the MSBY gym's employee parking lot. "Ain't nobody else seein' this in the mornings either. That's all."

He turns around and strides off, leaving you blinking in the morning light.

"Can you move it?" You say, your brows knit together. Hinata grimaces.

"I can bend it, like this—" he curls the injured finger inward. "But it won't stretch out, like this. Ah!"

You release his hand, where you'd applied pressure to the digit. "It's sprained. You're sitting out the rest of practice."

"Aw, but it really doesn't hurt that bad," he protests. You give him a look. "Okay, okay. Can I least do some running and stuff?"

"Do you want to come to practice tomorrow?" You say evenly. He gives you big brown puppydog eyes and you fold like wet paper. "I'll give you some stretches and exercises for your legs that you probably can't fuck up."

"Yay!" He cheers. "Thank you!" He uses an affectionate diminutive of your name with -chan tacked on the end. You laugh and wave him off, walking out of the main gym area toward your office, where you can print him the exercises.

You lean against your desk while the printer huffs temperamentally, taking a long sip of coffee. You should really stop going over to Atsumu's on weeknights, but you've been telling yourself that for well over a year, and it's a lot more convenient since all your clothes and your toothbrush live at his place.

You tell yourself a lot of things when it comes to your blond coworker.

The door to your office slams open and you make an involuntary, high-pitched noise in the back of your throat, focusing hard on keeping the cardboard cup in your hand from jumping with you.

"Sorry, sorry," Bokuto says, his hair drooping dramatically. "It's just really important—Tsumu's hurt!"

You take an inhale so quickly it hurts and burst your coffee cup all over your coat and work pants. Luckily, you take it mostly milk and sugar, so it doesn't burn you, but you don't even really notice it, just shedding the coat and rolling up your sleeves as you stride out the door without hesitation.

Behind you, Bokuto follows, making garbled promises you hear as through water to buy you a house to make up for startling you and ruining your outfit.

You try to take three deep breaths before you enter the gym, knowing you'll be much more helpful calm rather than battling the wall of panic that threatens to overtake you. Atsumu is blocked from your vision by a crowd of his teammates, fluttering around him like a herd of bumblebees.

Iwaizumi is already there, you see with an exhale of relief, ordering everyone around him to stay calm. You motion to the players around him to give him space, hoping your terror doesn't show untowardly on your face, hoping he can feel your singleminded prayer: please be okay.

"Eh?" He has a dopey expression on his face, dopier than usual, anyway. He says your name gleefully, but you're too busy scanning him for visible blood or bone to respond right away. "Nice shirt. Hey, why's your coat off? Were you taking off your clothes in there? Without me?"

"He collided with Sakusa," Iwaizumi tells you. Atsumu reaches for your hand and you stroke your fingertips lightly over the back of it, along the bones and tendons, each touch saying you'll be okay, it's going to be okay.

I'll make it okay.

"Sakusa's shoulder got banged up, you should probably put him on reserve for a couple days," Iwaizumi says. You glance over at the black-haired spiker, who gives you a thumbs-up though his expression is characteristically flat. "Atsumu, though... he fell pretty hard."

You can see that. There's a bruise blooming along the side of his face, like the sloppy trail of your lipstick after a night out. His ankle is swollen, too; the disorientation of the head injury must have impaired the grace of his landing.

You kneel and shift into clinical mode, receding into the comfortable space of your training. You feel along his leg, asking him over and over does it hurt, can you move this, does it hurt when I do this.

"Okay, doc?" His beautiful honey eyes are unfocused. You want to cry. You want to squeeze his hand tighter, but you don't want to hurt him more. "S all good. I'm fine."

You shake your head, grateful it's not worse. Afraid of what you have to say to him.

"That's right, you'll be fine. But the concussion paired with the ankle injury... I don't think it's a good idea for you to return to practice for a month at least."

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull your hands away from him. He probably doesn't want to be touched. He might hate you for this.

What's the point of sleeping with the doc if I don't get special privileges, you imagine him saying, if you're gonna take my life away from me like this. A month of recovery doesn't sound like so much to other people, but you've been working around these volleyball freaks since high school. You know that it's everything to them.

"Okay," Atsumu simply says. You look at him. "You gonna drive me home?"

"If you don't mind," you say softly.

"Yeah, then it's okay," he says, and scoots around, hissing when he forgets and puts pressure on the injured ankle. He leans back, and you catch his head in your lap.

"I'm gonna break my leg," Barnes says from somewhere behind you. "I want the doc to hold me like that."

You hear a thwack and then Iwaizumi's voice: "Sakusa, stop concussing your teammates. L/N only has so much room in her car."

Atsumu recovers more quickly than you expect. You should have known, though; he's always had a strong ability to heal. He rarely gets sick and though he's brash and reckless and sometimes outright stupid, he's lucky. In almost all the inadvisable endeavors you've seen him pull, he almost never gets hurt.

You're not actually a doctor, not that the team believes that. You've been trying to explain that you're a sports medicine physical therapist for the three years you've been working for MSBY and not once has it deterred anyone from calling you doc.

Atsumu was signed six months after you started, and you had only been friends until a year after that. In all that time, you've been the consummate professional at work, never letting your touches linger, never stretching him too deeply, trying not to stare at him like he's just any other player. When he first propositioned you, you tried not to say yes too quickly, as businesslike as possible.

You went into sports medicine because of your sister. She had been a superstar from the moment she stepped foot on a tennis court; even at a young age you saw that she wielded the racket like it was an extension of herself. As the two of you grew in age, you also saw the ways she overextended herself: the swollen knobs of her knees, hidden under frozen packs of peas, the frequent doctor's visits for hyperextension, the tear tracks when she tore her ACL.

You had spent so much of your childhood waiting for her during practice, doing your homework in the bleachers, fielding questions about her play to the uninitiated relatives who came to support her matches that it felt like the most natural course of action to go into a career field that meant you could help her and others like her chase their dreams.

You had also almost exclusively dated athletes as a result. While you were attending university and chasing your certifications, you had been surrounded by two types of people: students and athletes. You had barely any time in your schedule, much less the ability to align it with a similarly crammed med student. Athletes, on the other hand, didn't have an obsession with comparing your knowledge, liked that you were too busy to monitor them all day long, and loved that you had to attend every one of their games because it was literally your job.

By the time you got the position in Osaka, you were beyond over the routine of dating the people in your care. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't mess around with the team and entered a yearlong celibate streak, which Atsumu blew up into a million pieces and never allowed to recover.

To his (and your) credit, the both of you became close friends before ever crossing the boundary of inappropriate conduct. Just because you were strictly business during work hours didn't mean that you, lonely and shy in a new city, were going to turn down your coworkers' offer to go out after practice. You'd gotten to know Meian well and considered Bokuto to be something of a little brother. Then they had traded a couple of players for Atsumu, and the moment he gripped your hand and slapped your shoulder instead of shaking it or bowing like a normal person, you knew that he was going to mean much more to you than any other of your team.

You had fallen quickly into a deep friendship, and his apartment was much closer to the team's favored bars than yours was, so it was just easier for you to go home and crash on his couch. And his couch was gross, because it belonged to a bachelor who had never heard of a steam cleaner, so one night you insisted on sharing the bed, and you had become good friends who cuddled weekly.

It happened like this:

You were the last two left in the booth that had once contained the extremely compressed bodies of several of the largest men in Japan, probably, but they had practice early the next morning and had trickled out, one by one. Atsumu had his head down on the table while you desperately tried to convince him to come home (already you were referring to his apartment as your home without thinking, though only a spare toothbrush and a coat were kept there at the time).

"Please," you said, "I'm so tired. I'm not even drunk anymore."

"I am," Atsumu said, turning his face toward you. "Very."

"I know," you groaned. "Let's go home."

"I can't," he said despondently.

"Why not?"

"Not with you," his words slurred together. "I gotta problem."

"What?" You suddenly felt very, very sick. Maybe you were more drunk than you'd thought.

"Mhm. I gotta apologize, I think."

Oh, you thought. This is it. He knows.

"I've been having," he hiccuped and turned his face into his arms again so that you couldn't hear the next thing he mumbled.

"I can't hear you like that," you say softly. "Please, Atsumu, you can tell me anything."

You've been seeing someone, and she wants me to stop sleeping over. She wants you to stop being friends with me. You need the apartment to yourself to have her over.

"No," he says, turning back to you again, his eyes glossy with drink, his lips pink and just the slightest bit open. "I have been having manly thoughts about you. Unmanly thoughts. Whatever."

"What do you mean?" You'd asked, heart beating fast.

"I wanna have sex with you," he said, and then slammed his forehead against the table until it left a red mark. "I'm sorry, women! It's wrong to dream about kissing your girl friends, I know!"

You ignored his nonsensical shouting and put your hand under his face so he wouldn't injure it.

"Then let's go home so we can have sex," you said. He whipped his head up so fast you worried for his spinal discs.

"You promise?"

You actually didn't have sex that night because he fell asleep as soon as you coerced him into the bed. The next morning, he'd been hungover and ashamed, stuttering and afraid to look you in the eye. You had given him a handful of painkiller pills and waited until he was washing it down with a glass of green juice before you said "I think about having sex with you, too," so that he spewed it all over the floor.

Maybe it was petty, but you needed vengeance for his forcing you to drag him bodily out of that bar the previous night.

After your first time, he said, awkwardly, something about not being able to commit to a relationship at the moment, something about difficulty expressing his feelings, about being too immature to settle. A script you were as familiar with as the back of your hands. You turned to him, swiping sweaty strands of hair out of your face, glowing with a smile as he stuttered his way through it, and said I know the game. We don't have to talk about it.

He insisted that it wasn't a game, that you deserved transparency and to be treated well, and you rolled over on top of him and kissed him until he forgot his own name.

During the month-long recovery period, you had resumed the friendship you had had in the early months of knowing each other, refusing adamantly to do anything strenuous or even unsportsmanly while you had to work much more closely together than ever before. You insist on sleeping at your own apartment for the first week, afraid of aggravating his injuries further, until he threatens to walk to you with his pillow and sleepover bag. You bring him food near-daily and call his brother when your schedule prevents you from doing so.

He's diligent about doing the exercises and stretches you assign him to bring him back to full functionality. Towards the end of his detention (you pinch him for using such a dramatic word), you start taking walks together, in the evenings on work days and the mornings on days off.

You keep expecting him to ask for space, to push you out of his daily routine, to realize that he's bored because he knows everything about you; there's nothing left to hide. Nothing except the one unspoken thing, the one you're sure he knows but you can't acknowledge.

New growth is beginning to sprout on the trees, grey wood dotted with little specks of bright green. Atsumu walks without a limp, now, his posture straight but relaxed, his hands shoved into his pockets.

His body is healed, but his heart aches. You're wearing casual clothes, big soft pants that billow around your legs and a black shirt with his name in yellow letters, and you look far away, worried. No matter how many times he smooths the pinch between your brows away with his thumb, no matter how many times he asks what's wrong, you refuse him a straight answer.

He wonders if he's pulled you too close, in this month dying of boredom, forbidden from running and setting and anything that could damage his brain. He still gets to see you in the morning, your back arching as you stretch and yawn, the crinkle of your nose when your feet touch the cold floor outside of bed, which is probably slowly draining all the function from his grey matter.

You're wearing gloves, your extremities sensitive to the cold. He takes your left hand, tugs it off. When he tangles your fingers together, you look up at him, questioningly, that knot between your brows back again.

"What, woman, now I can't hold your hand?"

You stop walking. He curses his big, fat mouth. He always chooses the wrong thing to say, always has.

Osamu used to ask him what he was supposed to say to girls. Atsumu, proud big brother that he wanted to be, would puff out his chest and give him paragraphs of advice, and Osamu almost never used it. There were so few opportunities for him to advise Samu, though; he was so self-sufficient, maybe more than Atsumu had ever been. He was more introverted, less brash and crass and rude. Sometimes, when Atsumu ceded his insistence on being the wiser one with six more minutes of life experience, he wished he could be more like his twin.

"Do you love me like that, Atsumu?" You ask, mouth pressed into an unhappy line, already pulling away from him like you were expecting him to say something completely insane. "Because I understood fucking, and being friends with benefits, but I don't know if I get going out for food and holding hands and—"

"Like?" He says, refusing to let your hand slip from his. "I love you. That's it."

"Oh," you say, and your mouth is twisted up like you're searching for something he can't see again, but the crease in your forehead is gone.

"You gonna go out with me?" He says, and it comes out way easier than he ever thought it would, and if choosing the rest of his life is as simple a decision as chasing volleyball and you has been, growing up sounds way better than he thought. "'Cause I wanna do it all with you."

Once Atsumu's allowed to drink again, it's time for the real volleyball season to start, and his diet becomes much stricter and your schedule much longer, but eventually the two of you find yourselves back at the same old bar with the rest of the team.

"You're a scrub with no hope of survival in the zombie apocalypse," sneers Atsumu. This is a common topic of conversation among them; each one vying to be the leader of your hypothetical ragged survivors' team.

"I could win a fight against you with one hand tied behind my back," snits Tomas, who usually is oblivious to Atsumu's provocations but gets a lot feistier when he's drunk, to the setter's delight.

"Please don't," says Bokuto, his hair deflating in fear of his friends fighting.

"Haven't you had enough dick measuring," says Sakusa, holding a mug in front of his face like it'll prevent him from seeing Atsumu's and thus pretending he's not there.

"Have you guys ever done that?" You perk up, looking around. "Isn't that supposed to be a locker room ritual?"

"In high school, maybe," snorts Barnes. "We're way too old for that now."

"Yeah, we're real mature," insists Bokuto, his hair bouncing back up into its familiar two-pronged shape. You’ve long wondered how it does that, but if working with MSBY has taught you anything, it’s that science can’t explain everything.

You nod, taking another sip of your beer.

“So how big is it?” Atsumu addresses Sakusa and you squeeze your eyes shut. You just got him to start attending team bonding nights.

“Small. Leave me alone.” You choke on your drink, spluttering as you make eye contact with Sakusa and the tiny, prideful smirk on his face.

The rest of the team dissolves into laughter.

"What about you?" Hinata, his cheeks rosy, says to Atsumu. Before you can think, your drunken mouth speaks for you.

"You can’t have it, I called dibs!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. You can’t even begin to think about the rest of your coworker’s reactions. You haven’t even disclosed your relationship yet! Atsumu guffaws.

“I don’t think anyone’s trying to take it from ya, doll.”

[rhaenyratargeryen]

#the way Glinda hesitates#the way the guilt starts to creep in before she pushes it away#she knows what’s about to happen is cruel#but she shrugs it off#Elphie has what she (Glinda) wants after all#and she can stand to be taken down a peg right?#which is why later when she learns that Elphie threatened to quit sorcery#with no ulterior motive than she wanted to do someyhing nice for Glinda#it forces that guilt to take center stage#and Glinda sees her own actions for what they really are#because Elphie is a genuinely good person#something Glinda knows she’s never actually been#and she sees Elphie for who she truly is in that moment and in the moments leading up to her joining Elphie for a dance#and then on Elphie’s end#the way she sees this hat as a kind gesture#one of the few and only she’s ever had toward her#and she actually really likes it#she likes the hat#and then that moment of betrayal and disappointment and resignation ‘I should have known’#when her and Glinda’s eyes first meet across the dance floor#all of this with next to no dialogue#it’s all in their faces (via)

♪ You deserve each other, so here Out of the goodness of my heart ♪

[lovelytsunoda]

club tropicana | lando norris

summary: on an all inclusive holiday in ibiza, y/n finds herself falling head over feet for the charming british barman

pairing: bartender!lando norris x female! reader

warnings: reader has some crappy former friends, please do not get into a car with a barman at a shitty three star spanish resort (lowkey inspired by my 'benidorm' rewatch), cameos from carlos and fernando, im so sorry that this took me literally a month and a half to write.

club tropicana drinks are free / fun and sunshine, its enough for everyone all that's missing is the sea / but don't you worry, you can suntan

the sun beat down on the resort-goers, reflecting off the chlorinated water in the swimming pool. sunbeds were arranged around the large body of water. swimmers in the pool sat on mosaic stools underwater to order drinks at the swim up bar.

she was supposed to be on this trip with her friends. well, some friends they were. ending a friendship over text with about six weeks left in her second-to-last university semester before graduation.

and so she had gone alone, to the most affordable three-and-a-half star resort in ibiza. truth be told, she hadn't wanted to go to the party island in the first place. if she didn't leave the resort, it wouldn't even matter.

bookmarking her page, she sat her copy of dark sacred night down on the sunbed and strode towards the pool. the pool was crowded, but the swim-up seats at the bar were, unfortunately, the easiest way to get a drink at the resort.

she took a deep breath and ducked below the water, swimming over to where the bar was. she liked being underwater. all her senses were dulled, and the noise of the real world seemed to fade away.

"one vodka orange, please." her voice was quieter than intended when she sat down at the bar, and for a moment she worried that the barman couldn't hear her.

"coming right up, love." the barman was british, with a mop of curly hair and a pale yellow resort shirt that had the name 'lando' embroidered over the heart. he winked at her as he got the vodka down from a shelf behind the bar and began to mix her drink.

lando wasn't oblivious to the understated beauty of the girl in front of him, water running down her soft skin and dipping into the curve between her breasts. her wide, gentle eyes. the way the orange fabric of her swimsuit hugged her curves.

she was wearing a one-piece, a rarity in ibiza.

"so," he asks, setting the drink down in front of her. "what brings you to spain"?

he always asks, even if he doesn't care. but one thing he's noticed since he started working behind the bar is that everybody has something to say, and sometimes they just need a stranger to say it too.

kind of like the characters in that old billy joel song, the one about the piano and the man at the bar making love to his tonic and gin.

and she doesn't know what it is about lando that put her so at ease, but suddenly shes talking and talking and can't make it stop and now he knows all about the three years of friendships she forged at university and how all she had to show for it were two refunded ryanair flights and a text message saying that they 'needed space' and 'our friendship will not be continuing at this time' with no explanation of what she had done to push them away in the first place.

funny that.

"does that sound ridiculous?" she cringed. "it sounds really silly now that i've said it out loud."

"people come to ibiza for dumber reasons. i worked in benidorm for two years, and you should see the train wrecks that come through there." lando laughed, leaning against the tiled bar. "you're better off without them, if you ask me. they sound very catty."

"catty is saying it nicely." she laughed along, sipping her vodka orange.

talking with lando was easy. more so, it seemed like he genuinely cared, and that he wanted to listen. it had been a long time since she had felt like anyone wanted to listen to her. even still, the voices in her head were getting harsher and harsher.

"what are your plans for later?" lando asked, head cocked to the side. "i've got this friend, he owns a party boat company."

"lando, i'm not getting on a spanish party boat with a man i hardly know." she cringed, stomach flip-flopping. had she gotten the total wrong idea about him? he seemed like the kind of guy who would know just about everybody in ibiza, and probably half of benidorm as well. "does anything that i've just told you make you think that i would literally at all be interested?

lando raised his eyebrows. "you didn't let me finish, love. he also does nighttime stargazing tours. that far out on the water, there's nothing in the way of you, the sky and the stars. i thought that was much more up your alley. i could take you tonight if you wanted to."

she felt a pit in her stomach and cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. for a moment, the barman had looked genuinely hurt, right now, though, he looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, and expression that inevitably made her cave.

after all, she was on vacation.

and here she was, waiting in the lobby of the hotel in a low cut black halter dress. she'd done her makeup, which was a rarity. she was tempted to turn her location tracker on, but wondered who she would share it with. she could always tell the woman working reception to call her at a set time, and then the police if she didn't answer, she supposed.

lando pulled up outside in a little fiat 500, looking dapper in a collared shirt. his hair was visibly caked in gel, and he smelled like expensive cologne.

far more expensive than a barman should have been able to afford.

"are you ready for the night of your life, milady?"

she fought the blush, looking at his extended arm. no doubt he wanted her to link her arm through his. and they said that romance was dead.

"take it away, bartender."

the fiat should have felt cramped, but instead felt cozy. spanish synthpop music played on the radio, something uplifting and calming as lando drove through the cobbled ibiza streets. she looked out the window in wonder, eyes wide as the city nightlife passed them by.

all too soon, they had arrived at the dock, and lando was speaking rapid-fire spanish to another man who was leaning through the window. they laughed, and the spaniard clapped lando on the shoulder before taking a small handful of bills from him.

the barman stepped out of the fiat, crossing around the car to open her door and help her out of the little hatchback car.

"your carriage awaits." he grinned, cocking his head in the direction of the boat. "come on, i got us the best seats."

on the boat, an older dj was playing a wham! record, 'club tropicana' blaring out over the sound system.

"when does the bar open?" she asked quietly. "i'm craving something."

"in about twenty minutes, as soon as we leave port." lando replied, resting his hands on her waist. "in the meantime, can i tempt you to a dance?"

ah, why the hell not?

"hey, fernando," lando started before rattling off something in spanish. the dj nodded once before changing the record on his turntable.

spanish synthpop.

lando took her hands in his, pulling her closer for a spirited dance, his hips swinging back and forth with abandon. she fought the urge to burst out laughing as she let him pull her close. the sun was dipping low over the horizon, and down at the dock the deckhands were getting ready to leave port.

but with lando's hands burning into her skin as he lead her in something that might have vaguely resembled the tango, she had forgotten all about the fact that she was on a stargazing cruise, not a latin dance boat.

she only realized the song was over when the audience that had gathered around her and lando had started to clap. red faced and blushing, she dropped lando's hands and shyly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"i think im ready for that drink now."

lando beamed, resting his hand in the small of her back. "of course, sweetheart. vodka orange?"

"you know me so well."

lando effortlessly slid behind the bar, hands flying as he grabbed glasses and bottles and shakers. she leaned against the bar, chin in her hand as she watched him work, muscles rippling in his forearms underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt.

he winked at her as he passed her the glass. by now, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, and if one craned their neck up, they would be able to see a glimmering landscape of stars, uninterrupted by the muted lights on the boat.

lando came to stand behind her, his hands resting on her waist, protectively holding her body to his.

"so, be honest, this just made your trip a whole lot better, didn't it?"

despite herself, she laughed, relaxing into his touch. "yeah, it really did. thank you, lando."

"wait," he started, hand moving to her chin. "my job isn't quite done yet."

"what are you-"

she didn't get a chance to finish as the barman touched his lips to hers. they were soft. way softer than any barman's lips should be, well taken care of like the rest of the brit in front of her. she fell, no, tumbled into the kiss, feeling herself falling faster with every second that they spent lip-locked.

and she knew that there was no way that barman wasn't coming home with her. who needs return flights anyways? maybe she could just stay in ibiza and snog him for the rest of her her working life.

for now, though, she'd just settle with getting him into her hotel room.

[delilahsturns]

— ୨୧ getting older . . . m.s

in which . . . two childhood best friends bump into each other after drifting apart.

warnings . . . resolved angst, fluff toward end.

a/n 💌 : based off of real life experiences lol, it’s been a while since i’ve written angst so i hope you like it!

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

The coffee shop in boston, massachusetts smelled exactly the same as it always did. a nostalgic and sweet blend of cinnamon and espresso that floated around the air. you had been avoiding this cafe for quite some time now, considering that you had just moved back to boston around a year ago to be closer to your family and friends. too many memories were wrapped up in this place—so much laughter, whispered secrets, and mostly of all…him.

you sighed heavily, adjusting the strap of the bag slung on your shoulder as you waited in line, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. suddenly, you heard a voice call out your name. a warm, and familiar voice you hadn’t heard in nearly eight years.

“y/n?” the voice asked softly. your heart stalled, something in your mind clicked. fuck, this couldn’t be, this had to be some sort of illusion, hallucination. but it wasn’t. you slowly turned around, and there he was.

matt sturniolo. the only man you’d ever been in love with.

he looked older, of course. his shoulders looked broader, his hair was a little messier as it fell effortlessly over his forehead. but his blue eyes—those hadn’t changed one bit. they still held the same welcoming expression and warmth you remembered, the same warmth that persuaded you to believe that you and matt could have been something more. but that wasn’t possible, not in this lifetime at least.

you lightly swallowed, your eyes darting in different directions as your breathing grew slightly quicker. “matt.” you spoke, emptiness present in your tone. it felt…odd. the way you interacted with him felt nothing like when you and matt were kids, running around recklessly in his backyard. all the stupid arguments over mario kart, and so much more. nothing felt the same, and you were sure it wouldn’t ever feel the same ever again.

silence. complete silence. that was, until matt spoke. “you still drink caramel lattes?” he asked, nodding at the menu as he stepped closed to you, now standing next to you in the line. you blinked, caught off guard. “you still drink black coffee and pretend to like it?” you grinned. matt chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “yeah, some things never change i guess.” matt turned his head to look at you, giving you a somewhat smile.

but, things do change.

all you could think about was your past with matt. how you both talked every single day, how you once knew everything about each other—your fears, your dreams. the way you and matt were absolutely inseparable, everyone in both of your families knew it, and so did you. however, your lives changed. college and matt’s career drove the both of you in different directions. you and matt promised to stay in touch no matter what, but that quickly faded into distance, and silence.

“you live here again?” matt asked, shifting on his feet. you quickly nodded. “mhm, moved back here last year after i finished college, you?”

“y’know, me and my brothers are just visiting our parents for the weekend, then we’re gonna head back to LA.” matt said, glancing down at the ground as if he was unsure of what to say to you next. then, with a hesitant smile he finally spoke up. “do you maybe wanna…sit down and talk for a minute? it’d be nice to catch up.” matt asked. you hesitated. it would be easier to make an excuse, to walk away and let the past stay where it was. but, something in matt’s expression—the way his eyes softened as if he was pleading, made you nod.

the both of you ordered and collected your drinks, finding a small table by a window. and for the first time in years, you both talked, it felt genuine this time. you both talked and laughed about life, catching each other up on what had been going on with your lives for the past few years. somewhere between the occasional stolen glances and laughter, you had realized something. even though time had pulled the both of you apart, with matt smiling at you the way he used to, it didn’t feel so much like the end anymore.

after all, it felt like your friendship was just beginning again.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

[saeun]

এ phainon’s experience ᪲﹕ one kiss, one love ! ᪲ honkai: star rail ᧔ fem-reader.

࣪⊹ phainon gives his first kiss to his crush, you. he’s a bit shaky, but he’s got the spirit !!

+ extra: not beta (yet) ⸝ (pre 3.2) anaxa & mydei appearances ⸝ i desperately need to have phainon oml

“It’s never too late to go back home — just saying.” Anaxa gave you sincere advice, closing his book with one hand to re-direct his eyes on you.

You’re seated on the loveseat, straightened posture giving away how nervous you were. You didn’t need to stutter or swallow before speaking for the two boys to know you’re nervous. With such a stiff look it’s difficult for them to not tease you and Phainon indirectly.

Your lips stretch — it’s not a smile, but it’s not a frown either. It’s stretched in an awkward position, similar to you awkwardly shifting eye contact between Anaxa and Mydei. Sometimes you give them a nod, sometimes you go with a lifeless chuckle. It’s been a couple minutes since Phainon left to neaten up his room but gosh, the time couldn’t drag any slower.

“This is no way to treat a lady. He couldn’t have cleaned before?” Mydei scoffs, leaning back into the sofa with folded arms to emphasize his annoyance.

“What do you know about treating ladies?” Anaxa teases, but it’s a genuine question. One that came from the bottom of his heart.

Mydei raises an eyebrow, scanning the other boy before he licks his lips, “Watch your mouth, nature freak.”

“There’s nothing wrong with appreciating the green of the world. You wouldn’t understand — it’s okay, though, I get it.” Anaxa nods at the end.

Before their banter exploded, you quickly interrupted, cutting Mydei’s response off.

“How long have you guys known each other?”

A calm, small talk inducing question. You should give yourself a pat on the back.

“I don’t know him.” Almost as if they planned it, both Anaxa and Mydei replied with the same sentence.

You poke your inner cheek with your tongue, scratching the back of your neck at the tension rising between the two. Maybe it’s just you. After all, it seems like they’re just joking. Who knows!

A glaring contest begins. The cool eye from Anaxa meets the aggressive eyes from Mydei. And a third one that’s just here for fun. The third pair of eyes belonging to Phainon.

“What are we doing?” He questions, eyes making a triangular pattern between you, Anaxa, and Mydei.

Your heart jumps. You certainly weren’t expecting him to stand behind you with his hands on your shoulders. Such an entry is definitely Phainon’s style.

Mydei breaks the eye contact with Anaxa, immediately frowning at Phainon.

“Were you in there scratching your ass or what?”

“I got nervous.” Phainon admits.

“So you spent… twenty minutes being nervous… because of her?” Anaxa slowly asks, almost as if he can’t believe what he’s saying.

“More or less, yeah.” Phainon shrugs, feeling no shame in short circuiting. “Anyway, I need to borrow her, thanks!”

Without time to give your input, Phainon moves his hand lower to grip your wrist, gently pulling you off the loveseat and into his freshly cleaned room.

Once you're face-to-face with his door, he softly pushes you in first, following behind to lock the door. His room’s surprisingly minimalistic. A few toys here and there, a drone for whatever reason, and a sword’s sheath? You can’t tell if it’s fake or real.

“Nice room.” You compliment.

Phainon smiles, making a beeline to a corner to remove his sweater and then back to you. Once again, his hands find themselves on your shoulders, pushing you towards his bed.

You mimicked the same posture you used on the loveseat — fighting the itch to put a foot on the bed. You have to remind yourself it’s not your bed, It’s Phainon’s.

Phainon, however, doesn’t care whether you raise a foot or not. He’s in his mind contemplating if this is the right time to bring up the topic. He can’t last any longer hiding his feelings. Phainon’s running out of excuses — he blamed his sweaty palms on hyperhidrosis when in reality it’s because he gets nervous when you’re too close.

And this. Nothing is casual about bringing a girl into your private space — especially one shared with two others.

“Hey,” Phainon starts, drumming his fingers against his thigh to distract himself. “Can I ask a question?”

You hum, eyes following the rhythm of his fingers drumming his thigh.

“Have you, uh, ever wondered about relationships?” The question doesn’t quite come out the way Phainon imagined.

The expression on your face turns into a puzzled one. It’s not an odd question by any means, but it sure is a random one.

“Mmm, I have. Why?” You tilt your head, moving your eyes back to his.

“Do you want one?” Phainon swallows.

Suddenly the back of his head feels hot. The room feels hot, too. Although the air conditioner’s set on a temperature to battle the heat outdoors, so it should be anything but hot inside his room.

“Phainon what are you saying, honestly?”

Your second question went unanswered. Phainon bit his lip, praying that you can’t hear his heartbeat pounding against his chest. It’s almost deafening in his ear.

“Can I steal a kiss? Only if it’s okay.” He spoke with no shame but his eyes gave away the true feeling beneath.

You’re stunned for a moment. Sure, you had your suspicions being invited to his house would’ve gone somewhere, but not this fast! You’ve been in his room for less than thirty minutes, and there are two others.

Traveling your eyes from Phainon’s eyes, to his lips and back to his eyes, a teasing smile lights up your expression.

“Usually thieves don’t ask before they steal.”

“Is that a yes?” He’s hopeful, fighting back a smile himself. It’s a useless battle, however. The tips of his ears are already dusted in red.

Nodding, you lean in, licking your lips to moisturize them. You’re unsure of where the boost of confidence came from, but it’s here now. Any regrets will be handled tomorrow. You’re now under the influence of confidence.

Phainon’s hands move to cup your face, leaning down to place a light peck as though he’s testing the waters. His eyes remained open while yours are closed — so he goes for another kiss.

This time, he does it properly, shyly moving his against yours. Your lip balm transferred to his lips, but he doesn’t mind. Phainon’s in a trance; captivated by how soft your lips are. How light your hand on his thigh feels. How gentle he’s cupping your face. He’s lost in you, and it’s only the beginning of the trail.

Breaking the kiss, you keep your eyes on his lips, moving your hand to his now plumped lips. There’s a slight tint of red on them — must’ve originated from your lip balm.

Phainon’s head rests on your shoulder. Reality hit him a bit too late. He’s boldly asked if he can steal a kiss when he has no experience in the field whatsoever. His heart’s racing against his chest and the back of his neck feels warm.

He can’t understand how you’re calm after kissing. Have you done it before — never mind. He won’t sour his own mood.

“You okay?” You softly asked, raising a hand to comb through his hair.

“Yeah.” Phainon whispered, allowing himself to enjoy your fingers raking through his strands before sitting up.

“So… Can we do that again?” A boyish grin debuts on Phainon’s face. Aside from cringing at himself, he can’t believe he shared his first kiss with you.

[authorhjk1]

could you do a how does KIOF roleplay?

Julie

At first you found Julie's roleplaying a little off putting. You're fine with a lot of stuff, but you didn't expect her to one day randomly suggest something this taboo. Julie doesn't have a brother or sister, but you're not sure if that makes it better or not. She herself told you that she knows it is weird at the beginning, but you can see how much it turns her on. How wet she gets when you call her your sister while you nail her naked body into the living room window. How her eyes glisten with lust while she strokes your cock, admiring it as if she saw it for the first time.

"Oh my god, little brother. I didn't know you had such a nice cock."

Julie liked a lot of foreplay as well, which makes the sex itself even more real. By now you can't count the times when you were just watching TV in the living room and suddenly Julie came in, only wearing the tightest crop top that showed off her naked nipples through the fabric and her lace panties, and just kneeled in front of the TV, then took something out of the drawer underneath it and walked away again. And everytime she said something, which made it clear what she's expecting you to do next.

"By the way, mom and dad are gonna be home late today."

On the weekends, Julie even roleplays early in the morning. When you're preparing breakfast she walks into the kitchen, only wearing a shirt of yours, which ends halfway down her thighs. Then, she opens the fridge and bends down, the hem of your shirt riding up her ass so you can have a good view of her wet pussy.

"Why do you always eat my stuff? You better make it up to your sister, sweetie."

Natty

Natty always had a thing for giving you head at random times since the beginning of your relationship. Sh just loved how you always looked so surprised when she either just dropped to her knees in front of you when the two of you were alone, or when she took your hand without a word in public, just giving you a wink, before leading you to a more private space.

And since she found the succubus hairband and wings while looking for a Halloween costume last year, Natty constantly roleplays as succubus. She keeps changing her outfit, but always includes the wings and horns.

When you wake up in the morning, you're greeted by her in nothing but sexy lingerie, her lips already tightly sealed around your cock. After a long day at work, you sometimes come home to Natty roleplaying different roles, while still roleplaying as succubus. A succubus school girl, a succubus teacher, a succubus cheerleader, a succubus bride who's husband is lying in the next room, already completely drained of his cum.

But for some reason, today's outfit might be your favorite. The nun outfit is obviously a sexier version of an actual thing a nun would wear, but you still catch the wings on her back and the two balck horns, which peak out from underneath her veil. Natty even put in red contact lenses, making her look even more like a succubus in disguise.

"Do you want to know what sinning feels like?"

Belle

Belle is a princess. I think that's pretty obvious. That's how she likes to be treated during sex all the time anyway. Throughout your time with her, she's tried out very different forms of princesses. Obviously Disney princesses came first. Cinderella, Belle, Jasmine and so on. But once Belle tried out all of these often enough, she moved on.

Last week you came home to her lying on your bed, the only thing she was wearing was princess Leia's custome from Jabba's palace. She offered you her leash and asked you to be the roughest you've ever been with her. Which still doesn't mean that much since getting fucked from behind while getting her face pressed into the sheets is already extreme for her. She's just a soft princess most of the time.

Yesterday you were greeted by a Chinese princess. Belle wore a silk hanfu, which showed all kinds of light colours, making her look like a spring goddess. Flowers in her hair and a big golden hairpin completed her outfit. It was authentic, so she barely showed any skin at all, but that was completely fine with you, since it made the experience even more real.

And today another princess waited for you on your bed after you stepped out of the shower. Belle as a Pharaoh's daughter, wearing a black wig a golden hairband in form of a snake and golden bracelets on her arms and ankles. Her white silk dress was incredible thin, almost counting as see through. It showed off her body's curves perfectly and you could even see a fake bellybutton piercing through the dress.

Haneul

Haneul wasn't a fan of roleplay, until she wore something more formal once. Not a dress, but a suit. She felt somewhat powerful and strong in it and to her own surprise she made you feel that during sex that night.

She still doesn't roleplay often, but occasionally, you now find yourself face to face with your strict boss who threatens to fire you if you don't eat her out, or your school's principal who threatens to call your parents if you don't show her your cock, or once even your superior officer who tells you to fuck her hard if you don't want to get dishonorably discharged.

You usually enjoy fucking and using Haneul however you want with her being a good girl, but once in a while you do like to be the one who has to do what she says.

"And now the other one."

Right now Haneul roleplays as the hot and successful neighbor, who caught you looking at her through the window. She told you she'd call the police if you didn't do what she said. So now you place her naked foot on the floor, before your reach for the other one, still in one of her heels.

[h8aaz]

⋆ ࣪. — BLUEBERRY!SAM — .࣪ ⋆

SUMMARY .ᐟ . . . BLUEBERRY!SAM loves getting messy. too messy. the only ways he does is when he's eating his favorite fruit, and when he's eating you.

WARNINGS .ᐟ . . . big nsfw — MDNI!!! . use of petnames, mostly baby . f!reader . cunnilingus + fingering (duh) . sweet n hungry sammy .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . this is my first fic on here ever so pls be nice to me!! likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated <33.

"sammy..." you whine out in a soft yet broken voice as sam continues to eat blueberries out of the container, all while eyeing your half-naked and sprawled out body on the motel bed.

sam hums at your tone as he pops another blueberry into his mouth. the purple colored juice of the small fruit leaks down his chin, meeting the half dried stains of the past ones he's eaten.

"what's wrong, baby? tell me. be good f'me and tell me." the side of his mouth twitches to a soft smirk. the teasing and deep voice that rumbles from his throat goes straight to your bare core. it doesn't help that the squishing of fresh, wet blueberry juice falls from his lips.

you begin to clench on the open air, bucking your hips up softly. you restraint yourself from touching your aching cunt, knowing whatever he's going to do will satisfy you beyond comprehension. but it's still difficult to wait.

sam eats yet another blueberry, dragging his eyes down to your wet folds. "so precious. wonder what you'd taste like with a bit of..." he finally got off his chair and made his way over to you, chewing another berry as he did so.

he slowly kneeled down at the edge of the bed. he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer, gaining a soft gasp from you. his face was mere centimeters away as he smiled at the sight before him.

"added flavor." he groaned while his hot breath fanned against the soft flesh of your inner thighs and the drenched state of your cunt. you let out a small moan from the warmth his words gave you.

"so tell me, sweetheart," he flicked his gaze up to meet yours that was looking down at him. he took in your lust blown eyes, frustrated brows, flushed cheeks, and agape mouth. "what d'you want?" he spoke softly. his voice dripped like honey, but the purple mess around his mouth and chin, slowly making its way down his neck, was making him look far from a sweet man.

he looked hungry. the leftover juice wetted his lips in a way that he almost looked like a vampire in the soft lighting provided by the bedside lamps. he eyed you like a starved man, despite literally eating half a container of blueberries.

you couldn't hold it back anymore. you wanted him. needed him. you forced out your voice, a small twinge of whine at the end of the single word you let slip, "you."

you bucked your hips once more, getting slightly closer to the brunette. "please, sammy. please." you begged. and it worked.

sam immediately buried his face between your legs, pulling you flush against him by your legs. you let out a loud and desperate moan as his blueberry covered tongue worked its way between your folds.

he let out a gutteral groan, the noise sent vibrations against your delicate flesh. you gripped his hair between your fingers and yanked slightly, gaining a moan from him.

the white of your cum mixed with the pink toned purple staining his face. he brought his stained fingers to your hole, plunging them inside and curling them upwards. you let out obscene noises as he continued to hit all of the right spots, all while his tongue circled and softly sucked at your clit.

you shouted his name through pants, whines, and moans as he worked through you. his fingers sliding and curling at a soft, sensual pace while his tongue licked roughly against your pearl and folds.

he savored your taste mixing with the blueberry juice. he pulled away for a moment, earning a pouty whine from your lips. before you could beg him back, he had grabbed a blueberry and stuffed it against your opening, connecting his lips right after.

he licked and sucked against you, pulling the berry out and biting into it, spurting its juices against your cunt. the juice mixed with your own as he continued to move against you, gathering the mixed mess with his tongue slowly.

the sounds of your moans and the wet drags and pops of his tongue and fingers working filled the room, especially when he continued to eat the small fruit against you one after another.

the tight coil burning in your stomach began to break. "mm- sa-sammy," you panted as you grinded against his face, his nose poking your clit, making you moan loudly. "m'gonna-"

"cum f'me, baby. my sweet angel." sam purred against you. the sensation was too much for you to handle. and then you felt the band snap.

the sounds that flew from your mouth were nearly pornagraphic as you shook against sam's face. your fingers tightened their grip on his hair while your thighs locked his head in place. he continued to dig into you while you rode out your high. your back arched as he licked up your orgasm, all that was left were the wet strokes and purple tint his tongue left in it's wake.

your limbs collapsed back against the bed, trying to catch your breath. sam kissed your cunt softly before pulling back and licking his lips. he got up and hovered over you, moving the messy and sweat coated hair out of your face before caressing you cheek.

"you good, baby?" he smiled at your post-glow face before kissing your cheek. "mhmm." was all you hummed before opening your previously closed eyes and grinning weakly at him.

"thank you." you whispered before bringing his face to yours, his warm lips meshed with your cold ones, the taste of you and the fruit prominent. your lips moved in perfect synchronization, tilting your heads to get a better angle. his tongue slipped around against yours for a good while until the two of you had to pull away for air.

"i love you." you panted. sam chuckled softly, pecking your lips. "i love you more, baby." he sighed before laying down and pulling you to his chest. "we're doing that more often, y'know that?" he kissed the top of your head while you smiled and nodded your head, too tired to verbally agree.

go visit my taglist page to choose what you want to be tagged in!! <33.

[squiddy-god]

Who do you think in her loves open-mouth kisses and who loves closed-mouth kisses?

I haven't played the new stuff so ill wait to do that lol. Very clear favoritism and making sundays semi longer than the rest just for you 

Cw : almost all of the characters, none of the super new ones because i know nothing about them loli. Cute, fluffy, KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE-

Open mouth kisses 

Jing yuan likes open mouth kisses, slow lazy morning kisses, kisses shared as he tends to his garden- afterall you are not school children. It's fun to tease him with little pecks and keeping your mouth closed even as he tries to squish your cheeks into compliance 

Jiaoqiu likes open kisses, i firmly believe that it is a foxian trait to want to just either lovingly bite or lovingly try and lick the inside of your mouth so open mouth kisses are commonplace 

Speaking of foxians this goes the same for feixiao! I think she'd be the type to run up, grab your face and kiss you silly…hehe feixiao working out and when she completes pushups, sit ups, pull ups, crunches etc she gets a kiss. Great motivation. 

Another one- tingyun likes open mouth playful kisses. The way she frames it is like she's somehow tricking you into giving her a kiss, her tail swishing back and forth 

Yukong open mouth kisses where you share a nice morning tea before you are both off to work. There is also the times when you decide to be sweet, bring her a lunch she forgot and leaving her with a sweet kiss, very domestic (i love her your honor)

Argenti likes open mouth kisses because of romance. Loves sweeping you up into his arms to kiss you with passion befitting the beauty he sees and feels when near you. However there is a good contender to closed mouth kisses because of the kisses he places on your hands 

IL dan heng. Something something dragon, something something but for real there is something about his vidyadhara form and the residual energy of his past incarnation makes him feel more possessive and also more territorial. So open mouth kisses it is for him in this form 

Serval likes open mouth kisses idk i feel it in my bones 

Kafka is another one whos all fore the open mouth kisses but she will tease you about it 

Jade also likes them, they feel more mature in a way and it just fits more with her vibe 

Lingsha is another vidyidhara who i think has some innate desire to stake a little claim over you with slightly smothering you in sweet open mouth kisses 

Herta if she has time for it has a preference for open mouth kisses 

Sparkle has a preference for open mouth kisses ina playful way

Blackswan likes to take things slow and remember each kiss 

Himeko loves open mouth kisses but they often have the aftertaste of her coffee so she has accidentally ruined your taste buds because she's pavlov dogged you

Dr ratio likes open mouth kisses either to shut you up- hehe or because despite common consensus he is a deeply passionate man when it comes to his pursuit of knowledge and yes- his pursuit of you.

Closed mouth kisses

Sanpo likes closed mouth kisses because they are quick payment and because he can tease you. Oh you need to leave to go somewhere? So sorry that will cost 5 smoocharos plus tax 

Boothill likes closed mouth kisses because you can pepper his face with them all over and he loves that sweet sweet domestic bliss of being held and smooched (he bites tho be warned) 

Rappa likes closed mouth kisses but they are no less explosive! Theta re better for leaving special ninja seals on you tho (kiss marks) 

Hanya likes sweet kisses in passing 

Sushang lowkey shy kisses 

Same with peela 

Firefly loves kisses of all kinds but is pretty shy to make a first move so it often ends in a cute peck on the cheek or lips if she builds up the courage 

Ruan mei is quite busy and there is a part of her that does not know how to feel about the fuzzy feeling in her chest when you exchange kisses and affection. So for now she will prefer closed mouth kisses 

Sunday (i know this is who you are looking for teehee) now before joining up with the astral express i think the preference is out of a sense of propriety, the chaste kisses he shares with you are always longer than strictly necessary because they bite back a longing for more. Yet even after he grows bolder, joins the crew and is more healthy, he continues the sweet kisses. Except now they last longer, sweetened by soft words and smiles. When he pulls back and gazes down at you he goes back in for another kiss. What was once strained restraint he felt stifled him, has turned into a sweet indulgence, a moment that feels tender not tense. 

Robin also prefers closed mouth kisses. She likes kissing the tip of your nose and both cheeks before she leaves. 

Acheron kisses you a lot because she forgets if he has kissed you that day. 

Aventurine prefers closed mouth kisses because they feel more special. Just the two of you able to share a sweet moment that is exactly that, just a sweet moment. Being able to pull you into a small kiss, pressing his lips against your cheek is definitely a highlight. 

Jingliu closed mouth kiss enjoyer because the mara™  flares up if she kisses you too long 

Blade for similar ish reasons except he doesn't stop if the mara ™ gets crazy (wink wink) I think blade like when you kiss his fingers, he's lost a lot of feeling in them, they don't work like they used to and yet you still love them the same as the rest of him. 

Fu Xuan and I have no reason for this other than as a time saver. She isn't the lazy general, ok she has things to do. 

Loucha who kisses the inside of your wrists and the junction where your jaw meets your neck. Who kisses the top of your head sweetly when gifting you paper flowers 

Topaz who includes you in the kisses when she kisses all of her pets + you. All of you get a lil kiss

Seele and i have no thoughts other then bronya too

Silver wolf because shes is busy being a pro gamer ™ 

Galager but it's those really exaggerated sloppy smooches that go mmmwah

Xueyi i really have nothing to say 

Guinaifen she's shy ok 

Luka. idk i just see him wanting to ask for a kiss after winning a match but being to shy to actually ask so he just stands there with puppy eyes 

Asta 

Arlan 

March 7th and she always snaps a cute picture of it 

Regular dan heng because he is much more reserved and so even in private he prefers those sweet pecks and closed mouth kisses 

Gepard and hes lowkey similar to luka where he wants to ask for a kiss but cant bring himself to 

Welt! Mr yang would like a sweet kiss please and thank you.