#his legs are a little fucked up i might’ve pushed it too far but tbh sometimes it’s fun to let go of strict proportions

[time-slink]

wanted to experiment w something cutesy n exaggerated— n what better subject? :]

[fictionkinfessions]

canon rant because omg.

i honestly love my canon so much despite having the most devastating life. anyways!!

i think i always saw me and pony as being closer pals than we really were. it was like a 5 year old thinking they were besties with their older sibling’s friend except i was the 5 year old and pony was the sibling’s bestie. it was wonky

also pony had like. strawberry brunette(?? is that a thing????) hair before he bleached it. i always thought it was super cool tbh

sodapop was definitely my closest friend (aside from johnny ofc) out of everyone. absolute bros. we fought all the time but in a fun silly playful way. he probably bodyslammed me one time lmao

to the part i really wanted to talk about. johnny!! my pookie bear. my wife /silly

he’s always been my favorite person. like. ALWAYS. he had a lot more of a grungy style (if our story took place in the 90’s he’d definitely listen to nirvana or radiohead type stuff) and the scar on his cheek was on the opposite side of his face. idk why but that just seems special to me. it’s awesome. (also i was rlly gay for him. like it’s not even funny how gay i was for that mf /affectionate)

also i looked. awesome???? like i actually think i looked really cool (ironic coming from someone who literally has body dysmorphic disorder now. how the tables turn am i right /silly). i know i had longer hair and i bleached it but i never bothered to bleach my roots too much so they were brunette/my natural color. kinda like ebaycarson if any of y’all know who he is. i think i might’ve been trans and was on hormones (stole them,,,) so that was sick. i also had a scar across my face that came from my dad

anyways on to lore that i made up for myself to cope with the fact that i don’t have any memories of it so far😻😻

mostly taken from irl experiences btw.. but like, really exaggerated. i promise my family isn’t this bad irl don’t call cps

i had a little sister (eliza)!! i played softball and she did ballet and since the ballet studio and the softball field were so close together and we had our practice/rehearsal at around the same time our mom would drive us together. one day we got into a car accident on the way (eliza was 4, i was 6-8) which ended up in her being beheaded and killed. i was in the passenger seat and my mom was driving, so the airbag broke a few of her ribs. the airbag on my side didn’t really work that well so the seatbelt threw me forward before slamming me back into the seat when it did actually come out. it came out weird though, so it hit me in the leg and caused some motor issues that ended in me using a cane sometimes. fast forward to when i was 13, i decide to skip out on class one day and go home since we lived relatively close to school. i’m about to jump into the window that leads to my room before i hear my parents yelling, and my dad leaves. my mom tells me what happened and what’s been happening since they got married and i find out he’s mentally and verbally abusing her, as well as threatening her with “i’ve got other bitches” when she doesn’t want to fuck. i tell her that we’re going to leave that night. i’ll get my allowance (allowance was weird. i got some of it and the rest was kept in a safe for savings) from the safe, she’d scrape up as much money as we could and we’d leave. that night she waited for me in the car to start warming it up since it was the middle of winter and i got my money before my dad finds me and starts cussing me out, then i run out to the car and me and my mom drive away with my dad chasing us. we drive down to virginia (from new york (poughkeepsie to be specific) to stay at a motel for the night. i wake up to my mom’s muffled screaming, and turn just enough to see my dad with a pocket knife and an axe, holding his hand over her mouth. i jump up and beat the shit out of him, he tries to cut my head in half with the axe (hence the scar over my face) and i take his pocket knife and stab him until he died. i push him off of me to try and find my mom (who id just figured had decided to play dead), just to find her half gutted on the floor. i get out of there and drive as best as i could as a 13 year old to wherever i could, which ended up being tulsa. then the story goes from there.

i think the only difference that my canon has from canon-canon is my life/backstory if you wanna call it that, appearances and the fact half of us were gay

i don’t like motels.

- dallas winston (#🕯️🌀)

w

[me4gumi-moved]

How would dabi, shinsou, and todoroki react to making their s/o climax so intensely they pass out? (hcs form please!)

I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!! TURN IT UP!! I wrote this with the help of my friend who is currently in the process of making her own Tumblr account. I also added some scenarios between hcs because I was really excited to write this.

Dabi, Shinsou, and Todoroki’s Reactions to making their S/O Pass Out During Sex

Pairing(s): Dabi x reader, Shouto Todoroki x reader, Shinsou Hitoshi x reader Rating: Explicit Warning(s): Smut, Strong Language

Dabi

Oh the pride this fucker felt when he finally noticed you were unconscious.

Emphasis on when he finally noticed.

This asshole kept going at it even after you were whining that it was too much! Which is actually hot but that’s for another time and request

He thought it was a little weird that you were being so quiet (save for the soft whines and groans) so when he finally looked up and saw your eyes closed…

His chest filled with pride (and love but mostly pride lmao)

He was going to have so much fun teasing you when you woke up

You were gently shaken awake by your boyfriend. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.” Dabi smirked. “Nice nap?” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, still in a bit of a daze. He laughed at your state. “Wow, I must’ve done a number on you, huh, doll?” You were so confused. What did he mean by that? You took in your surroundings. You were in your bedroom, naked, Dabi was in between your legs, naked, and you just woke up, naked. It all came back to you; you came so hard you passed out.

“I knew I was good, but, damn! Good enough to fuck you unconscious? That sure as fuck stroked my ego...and something else.”

Todoroki Shouto

I’m not gonna beat around the bush -- Shouto thought he killed you

He honest to god thought you died and that he was the cause of death

Didn’t know what the fuck to do

Should he call an ambulance? The police? Does this classify as manslaughter? What the hell does he do in this situation?

The second he heard a sigh escape your lips, he almost passed out from relief that he didn’t murder his S/O...not from an intense orgasm.

He was so going to pamper you when you woke up.

“(Y/N), please wake up!”

You were violently shaken awake by your boyfriend. How lovely. But he wouldn’t be acting like this without good reason so you, begrudgingly, did as you were asked and woke up. You rubbed at your eyes, “What’s the matter, Sho?” He was looking down at you with worried eyes and seemed stressed out about something.

At the sight of your open eyes, his relief was clear on his face. “Are you alright, love? Did I hurt you anywhere?” He pulled you into his bare chest. The only thing hurting was the delicious ache between your legs...oh. Oh! That explains why he was panicking. You’d passed out after finishing. Honestly, it was a bit embarrassing.

Shouto reached to the floor and picked up his shirt, slipping it on over you, then wrapped a blanket around you and laid you back down. “I’m going to get you some water. I’ll be right back!”

Shinsou Hitoshi

His reaction’s a mix between Dabi and Shouto

It definitely stroked his ego but he was also a little worried that he might’ve gone too far

Either you passed out because he made you feel so good or you passed out because it was too much

It stresses Hitoshi out a little bit, tbh

He lets you rest while he cleans you up and puts you in clean clothes

He waits for you to wake up on your own

Hitoshi watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you remained unconscious, absentmindedly tracing random shapes and words on your bare arms. He felt somewhat guilty -- the thought that he might’ve pushed you too far plagued his mind. He wanted to ask you about it but he’d rather you wake up on your own. Your body obviously needed time to recover after such an intense session.

He briefly tensed up when you stirred but let out a sigh of relief when you only moved to snuggle closer to him. Hitoshi glanced at the clock on the bedside table; it was a little past the time he usually went to bed (which was still super late).

He kissed your forehead before settling into bed himself, “Goodnight, kitten.”

[kuroopaisen]

little changes | i (miya atsumu)

➵ miya atsumu is the bane of your existence. but, that means different things at different times of your life. 

PART TWO

wc: 6.9k (i know)

warnings: f!reader, cursing (too much tbh)

a/n: hi i couldn’t get this out of head so here you go,,, there’ll be a second part tomorrow 

The first time you'd met, he'd pushed you into a puddle.

"Slow down!" You yelled, chest heaving as you tried to catch up to the two boys ahead of you. Even at seven years old, their legs were significantly longer than yours.

The twins scrambled to a stop, looking over their shoulders at you.

"Hurry up!" Atsumu yapped. "If you can't keep up, we're gonna leave you behind."

"That's unfair!" You pouted, stumbling to a stop in front of them. "You can't just leave me out!"

Atsumu stared at you for a moment.

One clean shove, and you were on your butt, muck and water splashing up around you.

"What'd you do that for?" You yapped, looking up at the boy with a glare strong enough to kill a god.

"You were bein' annoyin'."

"Hey!"

"That's not cool, 'Tsumu," Osamu sighed, holding out a hand to you.

Atsumu shrugged, letting out a long, exaggerated yawn.

That was the day you decided that Miya Atsumu was your arch-nemesis.

Not much had changed since that day. Miya Atsumu was, to put it lightly, the bane of your existence.

Middle school brought him no maturity. If anything, he got worse. He treated you like a nuisance, your friendship with Osamu be damned. But unfortunately, the two of them were rarely apart. And apparently being around you was better than being bored.

"You can't spike a ball for shit," he mumbled, shaking his head at you.

"Oi, language!"

"Shuddup," he rolled his eyes, turning his back to you. "You're so borin'."

He always called you that. Boring.

You glared at him, clenching your fists. You were just trying to play along with them. Sure, your volleyball skills left something to be desired. But Osamu didn't mind. And you wanted to play with your friend, his shitstain of a brother be damned.

"Yeah, well–" You sucked in your breath, trying to think of something very cruel – but not profane, because you're only eleven and swearing is one of the worst things you could do – to say to him. "You're a bastard!"

He looked over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow raised. Did his silence spell your victory?

"Pig."

Nope.  

That was just the first of many monikers Miya Atsumu gave to you. He had so many, in fact, that it seemed he was allergic to calling you by your name. Pig seemed to be a particular favourite.

But, you always prided yourself on being tough. It took more than a few paltry words to do some real damage to you. And you were determined to not let Atsumu get the upper hand.

And yet, some days he did. They were rare, but they stung like nothing else. It was the days he got possessive. The days he told you to piss off, that he wanted to hang out with Osamu and he didn't want you there to ruin it.

You told yourself that it didn't matter. That you couldn't care less what he thought of you. But it wasn't enough to shift that awful little feeling that came with being told you were unwanted.

"Don't listen to him," Osamu sighed, hand clumsily patting your back. "He's just… like that. He sucks."

You sniffed, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Yeah."

You were just mad at yourself for crying. Thankfully, Atsumu had stalked off before you'd crumpled. But still. You'd let him get to you. You were better than that, right? Better than him.

"I still like you," Osamu swallowed, fumbling with the right words to say in a situation like this. "I'll beat him up for you, if you want."

You shook your head, a little too vigorously. "Nah, I don't want you to get into a fight with your brother because of me."

That's what it came down to, really. The feeling that you were in the way of something important. Of something that mattered more than you. The spiteful look Atsumu would shoot you whenever Osamu spent time with you instead of him hurt most.

Osamu shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. I really want an excuse to deck him in the face sometimes."

You giggled at that. It was the first time you'd smiled all day. "Thanks, 'Samu."

--------

With each year that passed, Miya Atsumu seemed to get worse. And with each year that passed, you were baffled.

How could someone have such a garbage personality? And worse yet, why was he blessed with such immense talent? You weren't an idiot, and you weren't the sort to deny credit when it was due. The twins were good. You knew jack-shit about volleyball – you'd sworn off it ever since Atsumu had been such a bastard about it – but you knew enough to know they were impressive.

They were just first years, but they were already on the starting line-up of the volleyball team. And you were quite proud of Osamu for that. It was nice to see other people recognising his talents. He'd been humble enough about it, too. Atsumu was another matter, but you'd developed something of a talent for tuning him out. So long as he wasn't insulting you directly, you could ignore him quite well. Life was much better for it.

The only bad thing about Osamu joining the volleyball team was the fact that he now hung out with them. Which wasn't a problem, per say; you were welcome to join, and they were all cordial enough. No, the issue was that sometimes spoke about girls. And nothing was more infuriating than hearing teenage boys advise one another on how to impress girls.

"You're saying I should just… ignore her?" One of the second years frowned at one of the older boys.

"Yeah," the third year nodded. "If you ignore her, she'll get all anxious about it, and she'll keep thinkin' about you."

"Huh," the second year nodded, blinking slowly. "Isn't that kind of… I dunno… mean?"

"Very," you mumbled.

"Huh?"

"If you do that, you'll seem like an asshole. Girls don't like guys like that," you sighed, head rested on Osamu's knee as you looked up at the sky.

Hanging out with the volleyball team wasn't high on your list of favourite activities. But, you had nothing better to do.

"I thought girls liked 'bad boys'," one of the third years laughed.

"I don't wanna make any generalisations," you shrugged. "But it's better if you're friends first. So you've gotta be nice to her."

You had absolutely no experience to speak of. But it seemed like the right thing to say.

"You're only saying that because you've got a thing for Osamu."

You hadn't planned on a murder today. But Suna had just changed your plans.

"Do not," you mumbled, shutting your eyes. Don't bite back, you thought to yourself. If you bite back, they'll just tease you more.

You'd actually thought about it, once. You were sixteen, after all, and ready to yearn. But, as hard as you'd tried to convince yourself that you felt something more for Osamu had fallen flat. The thought of kissing him made you laugh, when it should've made you blush. You hadn't mentioned that to him, though. Having a girl laugh at the thought of intimacy with you was probably at least a little humiliating, regardless of who she was.

"You're lying on him as we speak," one of the team snickered.

"Because I'm tired." You opened one eye to take a glance at the team. You took a moment to visualise punching them all in the face, one by one. It was almost rhapsodic. "You all suck."

"You're not even good enough for 'Samu, anyway."

Oh. Oh.

You bolted upright, glare immediately honing in on him. "Excuse me?"

Atsumu raised an eyebrow at you. "So you think you're good enough for him?"

You opened your mouth to reply. Fuck, you didn't have anything snappy to say. Was strangling him out of the question? Oh God, you could feel your face growing redder by the second. You needed to do something–

"Oi, don't use me as an excuse to make fun of her," Osamu sighed. "You don't really think that highly of me."

"That's cold, 'Samu," Atsumu grimaced. "You really think I'd be okay with you datin' this cow?"

"What did you just call me?"

"Do you like it more when I call you a pig?"

"What on earth gave you that idea, you bastard?" 

Osamu rolled his eyes as the tirade began. Not a day went by without something like this happening. Atsumu said something contrarian, and you exploded like a little firecracker. You weren't the sort to start fights, usually. But there was something about Atsumu that always managed to get under your skin.

He'd hoped that finally entering high school would've taught Atsumu how to behave. He should've known to be wiser than to indulge himself in some wishful thinking.

"Does he always provoke her?" Aran asked, frowning.

Osamu nodded. "Uh huh. He gets a kick out of it."

"Hmm," Aran nodded, "knowing everything I do about Atsumu, that makes perfect sense."

"I keep tellin' her not to respond. It just eggs him on."

"Well, I guess it's kinda hard not to," Aran shrugged.

Osamu sighed. "Y'know, sometimes I just wish they'd get along."

Aran laughed, shaking his head. "Sorry man, can't see that happening any time soon."

--------

Being a teenager fucking sucked.

Getting dumped by an admittedly shitty boyfriend might've been some kind of rite of passage, but that didn't make it hurt any less. You'd tried to count your blessings, small as they may be. At least he hadn't dumped you over text, right?

Maybe it would've been better if he had dumped you over text. That would've given you a few hours at least to pull yourself together. Instead, he'd pulled you aside just before class had started, telling you that he was done with you. He hadn't even given you the chance to speak.

And then you'd had to walk into class and pretend everything was okay. A whole school day was far too long to try and pretend you had it together.

Behind the gym was the only place you'd managed to find the silence in which to mourn. You would've gone and cried in the bathroom if you could, but there was always someone in there. You didn't want to make a scene. And surely, nobody would come behind the gym.

"Oi."

Oh, fuck.

"What do you want?" You mumbled, lacking the courage to look at him.

"I was just tryin' to clear my head before practice," he said. "What're you doin' out here?”

"None of your business," you sniffed, your shoulders hunched and your fists scrunching the fabric of your skirt.

He sat down.

No. No, no, no.

"So," he cleared his throat, not quite looking at you. "I heard about… your ex."

"Great," you sniffed, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand. It'd already reached Atsumu? How much did he know?

"Are you… alright?" His voice was quiet, unsure.

"What do you think?" You hissed, drawing your knees up to your chest.

"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just, uh… you've seemed kinda off today."

You shot him a look.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I just…" He sighed, hanging his head.

You pressed your lips together, trying to sift through the jumble of thoughts in your mind. It wasn't that you'd expected your relationship with that asshole to last. Far from it. You just hadn't expected it to go… like this. Not after he'd taken so much from you.

"It's just that–" The words escaped from you with a hitched breath. "It's just that… I gave him a lot, you know?" You took a deep breath. You weren't about to admit everything to fucking Atsumu of all people. But you just wanted to talk. To put the pain into words. "And he didn't have the decency to… to treat me with respect. He… He…"

"Did he hurt you?" Atsumu's tone was sharp; sharper than you'd ever heard it. He still wasn't looking directly at you. If anything, that was a small comfort.

"Not physically or anything," you shook your head, relaxing your fists. "It's just that he… he treated me like shit. And… and I liked him more than I should've, I know that, but…"

You made a valiant effort at swallowing the lump in your throat. "It just fucking sucks, you know?"

You don't know why you're telling him all this. You'd already said more than you'd wanted to. But damn, did it feel good to get it off your chest.

Did you seem a bit pathetic? Fuck it. Atsumu already thought poorly of you. Letting him see you like this wouldn't be a massive hit to your pride.

And, to his credit, he's listening. You think.

"I think–" You sniffed, taking a deep breath. This was the worst part of all. "I think he's been hooking up with Eiko. Or, at least, he's been trying to."

"What, really?" Oh, he'd looked pissed. You'd never seen this amount vitriol in his face before. Not even when he was arguing with you.

"Yeah." You nodded weakly. You knew it probably wasn't Eiko's fault. And even if she had 'seduced' him, he'd still chosen to dump you over it. You just didn't have the energy to direct your anger at anyone but him.

"Fuckin' piece of shit," he grumbled. You could see him clenching his fists. You'd never thought he'd get this angry on your behalf. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Don't." You nearly reached over to grab his arm. But, you didn't. "Please, I just… I just want this to pass, okay? I don't want to create a mess."

Atsumu stared at you for one long moment. You knew he was weighing up whether or not he should listen to you. Then, he sighed. "Fine."

"Thank you," you mumbled, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You didn't know what to say, now.

"Well," he cleared his throat, finally meeting your gaze, "if he tries anythin' with you, lemme know, okay?"

You blinked, your own brow just as furrowed as his.

"He's a pig," he grunted, "and… and you deserve better than that, 'kay?"

You stared at him. Had those words really just come from his mouth? "I thought I was the pig."

Atsumu said nothing. He doesn't know what to say. You'd never really interacted like this before. Without the barbs.

He wanted to say that, even though he makes fun of you all the time, you matter. Frankly, he doesn't really know what he'd do if you weren't there for him to pick on. He's used to you being around, you know? That bred at least a little fondness. And the thought that someone had genuinely, actually hurt you pissed him off.

But he doesn't say any of that. Because he doesn't know how to. Hell, he doesn't even know what that means.

"I, uh," he cleared his throat, standing to his feet. "I've gotta get back to practice."

He wants to tell you to text him if you need anything. But, he doesn't think that'll be very comforting, coming from him. So, he walked away.

"Hey, uh, Miya?"

He stopped in his tracks, just as surprised as you were. You never called him by his name.

"Could you, uh… could you keep this between us?" You asked, your throat alarmingly dry. "I'd rather 'Samu didn't know about this. I'm worried that… that he might do something stupid."

Atsumu looked over his shoulder at you. It's a small moment, a quiet one.

He just shrugs. "'Kay."

The next time you're watching them play, you're not just cheering for Osamu.

--------

It's over. Finally.

And you couldn't be more relieved.

Of course, you were going to miss your friends. And of course, all the changes that were about to come your way were fucking terrifying.

But high school sucked. And being a teenager sucked. You couldn't wait to move on from all of that. To make a real person of yourself. And you were going to Tokyo. Tokyo. You'd always lived in Hyogo; the thought of living somewhere so vastly different was downright exhilarating.

But before all that, you had to survive your goodbyes. You'd made it through the graduation ceremony well enough; in truth, you'd zoned out a little.

But now you were all outside, and it was finally time to say goodbye for good. And quite frankly, you hadn't expected to be so emotional. Honestly, you were just proud of yourself for keeping it together. Nobody else was crying – yet – and you'd be damned if you were the first person to lose composure.

You'd managed to say goodbye to most of your friends with a smile, and you'd even bid farewell to your beloved literature teacher without getting too miserable. Surely, there wouldn't be too many people left to see.

A flash of grey and yellow at your right.

Oh no. You had to speak to Osamu. That'd do it.

"Oi!" You called out, hurdling towards him.

Osamu turned around, raising a hand at you. Atsumu glanced in your direction, but he made no effort to greet you. Asshole.

"C'mere," Osamu smiled, opening his arms up.

You threw yourself into them, wrapping your arms around his neck as you supported yourself on your tip-toes. He smiled, chuckling in your ear. Good God, you were going to miss him.

"We did it," you smiled, squeezing him tight.

"Somehow." It was subtle, but you could feel the joy in his voice.

"Good job on getting into TSUJI," you beamed, dropping down as he released you from his grasp.

"Thanks," he smiled, reaching a hand up and ruffling your hair. "University of Tokyo’s nothin' to sniff at, you know."

You blushed, despite yourself. "Yeah, well…"

"Stop bein’ so humble," he said, punching you gently in the shoulder. "Make me proud, you hear?"

"You too."

And that's enough. That's all you need to say. He wasn't big on words, and that was okay. It had always been okay. You knew that you guys would stay friends. Even if everyone else fell away, if you drifted from all these people you held close… you knew you'd have 'Samu.

You heard a voice calling you. You straightened your shoulders, looking up at Osamu resolutely. "I'll see you this weekend, yeah?"

"Sure," he shrugged, nodding at you.

You smiled back, feeling that persistent sting at the corners of your eyes. Your eyes flicked over to Atsumu for just a moment. He'd turned away from you once you'd thrown your arms around Osamu, opting instead to speak to some of the first years. You wondered, for one short moment, if you should try and talk to him.

Nah.

You swallowed, turning around to walk towards whoever had called your name. If you spent any more time standing still, you might not be able to hold back the tears.

You felt a tug on your sleeve, pulling you downwards.

"Oi."

You'd know that voice anywhere. "You're so rude." You shot him a glare, straightening yourself out.

Things had mellowed out a little since that day behind the gym. You wouldn't go so far as to say you were friends; he was still abrasive, and you were still struck by the urge to punch him in the face whenever he came into your field of vision.

But his words had been a little gentler. Insults abounded, but he seemed a bit more mindful. Like he was checking your mood before pushing your buttons.

Or maybe you were just imagining it. Maybe you just wanted that weird little moment between the two of you to mean something.

"What do you want, Miya?" You sighed, after a long silence.

He'd just been standing there, completely silent. He hadn't even bit back. His lips were pursed as he stared at nothing in particular. What an earth is he thinking about? You wondered.

Then, finally, he looked at you. "Wanna live together?"

You froze. Why was he so… like this? "Excuse me?"

He shrugged, hands in his pockets and an obnoxiously bored look on his face. "That's easier than findin' a roommate, right? We already know each other, and we'll both be in Tokyo."

No congratulations. No words of kindness. Nothing. Just straight to business. You weren't sure if that or the offer he'd just made was more baffling.

You bit your lip. Could there be anything worse than living with this fool? Maybe you could end up with a shitty roommate – but he'd also be a shitty roommate. How much worse could a total stranger be?

"Hey. Dickhead."

You jumped, looking up to meet his eyes. "Oh, uh… Let me think about it."

"'Kay."

And then, he was gone.

'Kay? 'Kay? That's all he'd had to say to you? After asking you to live with him? How'd he even come up with that idea? Had Osamu told him to do it? Oh, maybe it was his parents. They were quite fond of you, after all. Perhaps they thought you could keep their son in line or something.

But that wasn't your responsibility! You didn't want it to be your responsibility!  

You shook your head. No, you weren't going to let this dominate your thoughts. You would worry about Atsumu later. For now, you just had to focus on getting through the rest of today.

--------

Your reasons for living with Miya Atsumu were simple.

One: you'd avoid each other. Surely, even if you were in the same apartment, you'd give each other a wide enough berth to ensure some sense of privacy.

Two: you could live like an absolute pig and it wouldn't matter. Who cared if you didn't do your dishes that evening? It only affected him. And fuck him.

Three: you'd heard one too many horror stories about friendships being torn to pieces because of shit like this. You didn't want to risk that.

Four: you didn't want to live with a stranger.

Simple as that.

And those were the four reasons you'd told Osamu, in a paltry attempt to justify yourself. He'd been sceptical, of course – and he'd said, without an ounce of goodwill, "you don't know just how bad he is to live with" – but he hadn't tried to stop you.

But one semester was already over and done with. And things were fine.

Honestly, you were still surprised that he'd even asked this of you. But, his reasons were his own, and frankly, you didn't care what they were.

Yes, he lived like a pig. And God, you'd heard him in bed one too many times because apparently he doesn't know how to be quiet.

"It's not my fault you're not gettin' any," he'd say. You always wanted to bite back and say that you were getting more than enough, thank you very much. You were just polite enough to be quiet. But, you always decided – quite wisely – that it wasn't an argument worth getting into.

But, there's something about the freedom of simply not caring if your roommate would get mad at you for some stupid mistake that made it all worth it. You were allowed to fuck up, to make all those silly mistakes every did in that transitory stage from high school to adulthood. Nothing you could do would ruin an important friendship.

You got to learn how to be a decent person without the consequences.

"Would ya mind if I had some friends over?"

Believe it or not, but this was a big step for him. A few weeks ago, and he would've just brought them over, your feelings be damned.

"When?"

"Thursday evenin'."

"What for?"

"Just catchin' up," he shrugged.

"Is this you asking me if I'm okay with it, or is it you asking me to get out of the house?" You raised an eyebrow at him, stirring your tea.

He flashed you a grin.

You rolled your eyes. "Really?"

"Come on," he propped his chin up on his fist, beaming at you from across the kitchen counter. "Surely, you don't wanna be around when there's a buncha guys in the apartment. Do you?"

"So you're going to bring them over regardless of what I say?"

Nevermind. This wasn't a step for him at all.

"Essentially," he shrugged.

You groaned, lolling your head back.

"Can't you just go to the library or somethin'?" He pouted.

"I don't have any assignments to work on," you frowned. "It's literally only week two."

"Aren't you always tellin' me it's better to get ahead early?" He raised an eyebrow at him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, biting the inside of your cheek. "Week two's overkill."

"Well, just… do your weekly readings or somethin'."

"I'd rather do them from the comfort of my own bed."

Atsumu groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I already told 'em they could come over."

Oh, you were so ready to throttle him.

"Can't you just… make yourself busy?" He shrugged. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anythin'."

"You should've thought about that before inviting them over," you growled. "Shit, what are you planning on getting up to, anyway?"

He shrugged. "It'll just stress you out."

"Miya, what the fuck–"

"One of the guys thinks you're hot."

You blinked. He really knew how to be blunt, didn't he?

"And?"

"I can't promise he won't try'n hit on you."

"Yeah, and?"

Atsumu shrugged. "I dunno. I just… thought you might be a bit uncomfortable with that."

"How does he even know what I look like?"

"I showed 'em a photo."

Oh God. Of course he did.

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"I mentioned that my roommate's a chick. They wanted to see."

"Miya," you sighed, gripping your own hair. "What – and I cannot stress this enough – the fuck?"

"It didn't seem like a big deal at the time," he tilted his head at you, smiling. "I mean, I'm just as surprised at you that someone finds you attractive–"

"Shut up."

"– but I just thought you should know. Clear things up before they get too awkward, you know?"

No, you didn't.

But, you didn't really want to have this conversation anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, turning to pour the rest of your tea down the sink. For some reason, you didn't really want it anymore. "I'll find something to do."

Shouldn't be too hard. Maybe a bar or a pub would have a student's night. Maybe one of your friends would be free. There was always something to do in the city. 

"I owe you one," Atsumu grinned. You had half a mind to knock his teeth out then and there.

"You really do," you sighed, rinsing your cup out.

"Already got something in mind."

"Sounds like there's a catch," you mumbled, looking over your shoulder at him.

"No catch," he held his hands up, giving you what you assumed was his best smile.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got an untrustworthy face, Miya?"

"All the time," he grinned. "Nah, but really. No catch."

You titled your head at him, waiting for a proposal of some kind.

"I'll buy you pizza."

You scoffed. "Really? That's your consolation?"

"I'll get you the expensive shit," he shrugged. "Friday night. Promise."

"Can you even afford anything that's not from the cheapskate menu?"

"Can you?"

You shrugged at that one.

"Nah, I promise, it'll be good," he sighed. "I'll make it worth it, 'kay?"

--------

Friday nights were for Atsumu.

You weren't quite sure how it started. Something to do with him being exhausted from volleyball practice. Something to do with you being exhausted from university. Something else about how neither of you had any energy left to go out and socialise.

Whatever it was, you'd settled into a comfortable rhythm. Friday night, pizza, and a shitty movie.

These days, you actually liked having him around. Not that you were going to admit to it, though. No, you'd rather die than do anything like that.

You weren't quite sure why you'd suddenly adjusted to him. Was it because you'd known him for so long? Even if he was an absolute nuisance, he was familiar. Someone you could be a goblin around, without having to worry about him wanting to end your friendship over it. No, you'd been involved with each other far too long for that.

And honestly, it was kind of nice to have someone to relax around. While you'd managed to find some people you clicked with at university… making friends was hard. There was no-one you could be an absolute pig with yet.

So, Atsumu would do for now.

You'd just finished watching Neil Breen's Fateful Findings. It had been surprisingly easy to find a copy with Japanese subtitles; that being said, you didn't feel it had given you any clarity as to what was actually going on. Atsumu had loved it, though. He'd already tried throwing some of the quotes back at you. That was sure to make him harder to live with for at least the next week or two.

"Wanna play Smash?" He was sprawled out on the couch, looking at you with a painfully cocky expression.

"Absolutely not."

"Worried I'll beat your ass again?" Did he have to smirk after every second thing he said?

You glared at him. "Wanna say that to my face?"

He grinned, turning to face you head on. "Worried I'll beat your ass again?"

"I was having an off day," you mumbled.

"Wanna prove that, or…"

You bit the inside of your cheek. If you did play, there were two possible outcomes. The first was that you won. If you won, it'd shut him up, and you could go on with your pride more or less intact. The second was that you lost. And you weren't quite sure if you could handle his ego.

"I'll prove it to you right now," you snapped. "On this couch, with my fists."

He blinked at you.

"You're going down for good, Miya."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I'm gonna make you squirm like the worm you are."

He laughed. A real, genuine laugh. The sort that relieved all tension from his body, erasing any hint of his usual insufferable expression.

He was actually kind of handsome.

You'd always known he had a nice body – you weren't blind, you were just too proud to admit it. And it'd gotten even nicer since graduation. Practice paid off, it seemed.

And there was something appealing about his relaxed air. About how he didn't seem to take life too seriously. It almost made him enjoyable to be around.  

Maybe that's why so many girls were interested in him.

Wait, no. They only liked him because they hadn't spoken to him yet.

Oh, right. Girls.

Something shifted in your chest. Something you had never noticed before. Something so quiet, so understated that you hadn't even realised it had made its way in there.

Oh God, you thought, what the fuck is happening to me?

Whatever it was, you didn't like it.

Miya Atsumu was hot. That, unfortunately, was a fact you were now uncomfortably aware of.

"Oi." A hand was being waved in front of your face. You jumped. "Pay attention, you pig."

Oh, nope. There he was. There's the Atsumu you were used to.

"You're a fucking bastard," you mumbled, shrinking into yourself.

You're weren't quite sure what you were saying. You'd just flicked onto autopilot. But you knew that your words were comfortable, familiar. Little insults that a child would throw around. Anything to stave off whatever that weird stirring in your stomach was.

--------

In many ways, realising Miya Atsumu was actually kind of hot ruined your life.

Were you being over-dramatic? Probably. But had things changed? Definitely. To a large extent, it was on you; glances stolen when he wasn't looking, your mind wandering to places it really shouldn't.

But he'd been acting up, too. Standing far too close to you when you were in the kitchen – close enough that you could feel his chest against your back, reaching over your head to grab a cup while damn-near draping his body over you, walking around without a shirt on in the common area…

One time, when you'd dressed up all nice for a friend's birthday, he'd brazenly checked you out. He hadn't said anything – he'd just stared. When you asked him what was wrong, he just shrugged and told you to have fun. And, of course, he'd smirked at you. You'd been ready and willing to kill him.  

Whenever you were on the couch, he always seemed to reach over you and take the remote himself instead of simply asking you to hand it to him. And sure, that wasn't all too weird – but he tended to get really close, and catch your eye for just a moment with that little smirk on his lips. Each and every time, you felt like you were going to explode.

You'd taken to sticking pillows between you on the couch, because you wouldn't be surprised if he decided to lay his head on your lap or some shit on a whim.

Maybe he was messing with you, but this sort of behaviour wasn't totally un-Atsumu. You'd seen him act like this with people before. It's just that you two had never really been close enough to warrant it. Was it just a symptom of the fact that you guys were kind of friends now? Was he just treating you like everyone else?

But some part of you was even angrier at that. You didn't want to be treated like everyone else.

God, you felt stupid for even feeling like that. Especially when you'd had an awkward morning chat with a few of his bedfellows – where each and every time, you couldn't help but marvel at the fact that he was punching so far above his weight. How on earth were people this beautiful paying attention to him?

That was starting to make more and more sense recently.

You tried not to think about it.

But that was getting harder and harder to you. You'd been kind of lonely. Some quiet part of you wanted a serious relationship; someone to come home to of an evening, to relax and unwind with. You'd even been actively looking. Not that you were about to admit that to anyone.

But men are shit. Especially ones in their early twenties.

But as resolutely as you believed that, there you were, preparing for yet another date. You'd have a particularly messy string of disasters recently; men who did little more than stare at your tits, men who had nothing interesting to say, men who thought that being an asshole was a personality…

Tonight, you hoped, would be different. Sure, you'd met this guy in an econ elective – you'd needed something easy to bring your GPA up – and that certainly wasn't a point in his favour. But, he'd taken in interest in you, despite the fact you'd never really spoken before. A few months ago, you might've turned him down. But surely he'd be better than the drivel Tinder unfailingly turned out.

Only problem was that he wanted to go somewhere chic. Somewhere fancy. Somewhere that was, quite frankly, out of your comfort zone.

"Another date?" Atsumu scoffed, leaning on the doorframe to the bathroom.

"What's it to you?" You grumbled, leant in close to the bathroom mirror. You couldn't get your makeup to look how you wanted it to; everything just seemed a little wonky, a little uneven. And your foundation hadn't settled nicely into your face. It just sat there, a tacky second skin you just wanted to slough off.

"Nothin'," Atsumu shrugged. "You've just never gone out on a Friday before."

Oh. That's right.

You shrugged, biting your cheek. "It's the only day he could get a reservation." In truth, you hadn't even thought about it.

"Same guy as before?"

You shook your head. You couldn't actually remember the last guy you'd told Atsumu about. The amount of bad dates you'd been on was getting embarrassing. "Nah. This one's a classy bastard."

He snorted. "You're kiddin', right?"

You shook your head. "I'm going to have to let him pay for the date because I genuinely don't think I can afford it."

"Yikes," he chuckled. "You know, I never really took you for a gold digger."

You had half a mind to throw your mascara at him. "Shut up."

"If you keep faffin', you'll be late."

Shit, He was right. You checked your phone. 5:25. You had five minutes to leave. You picked it up and made your way to the door, ready to squeeze past Atsumu. You turned, dashing back to the mirror and poking at your hair.

"Stop worryin'," he chuckled, waving a hand at you as he began to walk away. "You look nice."

Those words stuck with you all the way to the restaurant. They were so simple, so innocuous, but… They were touching, coming from him.

And when your date was talking to you about something you simply didn't find interesting, you couldn't get that look on Atsumu's face out of your head.

--------

The date was a veritable disaster. Possibly the worst you'd had in a while.

First of all, the guy was a total asshole. And not just the Atsumu kind – no, this one was rich. He'd had his entire life handed to him on a silver platter, and it showed. You could tolerate it, at first. But when he'd literally said, "I don't think the poor should be allowed to vote," you knew you couldn't stick around.

Second of all, you couldn't stop thinking of Atsumu and his damn smirk.

You'd gotten up without even giving your date an explanation. You'd stormed out of the restaurant in a rage, resolute on walking all the way home.

Why did it always turn out this way? The guys were either assholes, or far too self-centred for a proper relationship. If they were neither of those things, there was just no chemistry between the two of you.

God, were you the problem? Were good people just not attracted to you?

What were you supposed to do?

To top it all off, it began to rain when you were just halfway home.

As you slammed the door, you looked as awful as you felt.

Atsumu flinched, sprawled out in front of the television. He sat up a little straighter, looking at you from over the back of the couch.

"Yikes!" He scoffed. "You look like shit!"

Your breath caught in your throat. No. No, you weren't going to take this from him right now. Not tonight.

"Y'know, you wouldn't've gotten rained off if you'd just stayed in," he chuckled, propelling himself off the couch and ambling his way over to you. "What a waste…"

He came to a stop in front of you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. He had that look on his face; that insufferable smirk he whipped out whenever he'd beaten you in something menial. That smirk that, in any other circumstance, would've made you want to punch him. But tonight, it just made you want to cry.

"You haven't said anythin'," he frowned, tilting his head at you. "You okay?"

You wanted to lie. You wanted to tell him that it was fine, that the mascara dappling your cheeks was just the result of the rain.

But you couldn't. You couldn't get the words out of your mouth.

You took a deep breath.

You stopped breathing. His arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. It was rough, the embrace of someone who wasn't used to tenderness. There's this strange stiffness to it, an admission that he doesn't really know what he's doing. But as he rests his head on your chin, you couldn't be more grateful for his efforts. Your hands found their way to his chest, balled up and tense.

"Hey," he mumbled, "hey. It's going to be okay."

You looked up at him, your throat sore from holding back a sob and eyes stinging from unshed tears.

Maybe it's because you're emotional. Or because you're tired. Or maybe it's because you're lonely, and he said a few nice things to you today.

You kissed him.

It's hot, open-mouthed as your fists grasped his shirt, pulling him down to meet you.

Your head is swimming; what the fuck is happening?

 His arms tensed around you, his lips moving to meet yours.

This is what you want. This is what you've wanted for a while now. You hadn't wanted to go on all those shitty dates. You hadn't wanted to waste your time with men you didn't care about. What you'd wanted was–

He froze.

So did you.

His hands are holding your forearms firmly as he stepped back, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"No, baby." He shook his head. "Not like this."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You flew down the hall, slamming your bedroom door.

You sank to the floor, arms finding their way around your knees. You didn't want to cry. You didn't want to dignify this evening with that. You weren't going to pity your own shitty mistakes.

Fuck the date. That wasn't even the worst part of the night.

You'd just kissed Miya fucking Atsumu. Things were finally going okay between the two of you. He'd been treating you like a human being.

And now you'd ruined it.

[retrievablememories]

how’s this? | johnny (m)

title: how’s this? pairing: johnny x reader genre: non!idol au, smut request: “Can you please write a smut scenario with Johnny where Y/N and him are best friends and he comes in her apartment unannounced to find Y/N in lingerie in the mirror. Unbothered she asks him what he thinks.” word count: 3.6k warnings: kinda-but-not-really voyeurism?, oral sex (69), dirty talk, a lil angst? a/n: the title is from the hyuna song, although the song itself doesn’t really relate. i don’t feel as confident about this fic compared to my others tbh, but... 🤕

Johnny is your best friend. There’s little you don’t know about each other, few things you haven’t done together—well, at least on a platonic level. You might’ve kissed each other once or twice, when you were younger and still trying to figure out the opposite gender, but little more than that has happened between you.

You’re endlessly grateful that he can be someone so reliable, someone who guards all of your secrets and bad moments like they were his own and knows you inside and out.

His place in your life earned him the honorary perk of getting a key to your apartment when you first moved in, so he could drop by whenever he needed to, or whenever you felt like having him. He’s used it on more than one occasion, but he tries not to encroach upon your space too often, knowing you like time to yourself, too.

You are Johnny’s best friend. He values your friendship among some of his closest relationships, and there’s rarely a day when you don’t cross his mind. He appreciates your humor, your personality, and your support of even his wildest endeavors, fueled by the idea of you two always being there for each other.

For Johnny, your closeness makes it a little harder for him to come to grips with the fact that he likes you much, much more than friends are supposed to. He’s not quite sure when the scales tipped this way, unable to pinpoint a specific moment in time when the lines blurred, but part of him hopes that this is the one thing he can keep from you. He’s convinced that you see him practically like a brother and nothing more, and although there have been many times when he wanted to confess, he’d rather not jeopardize your relationship over his feelings.

Even if that means he has to spend many of his nights fucking his hand and pretending its you, or writing new songs and realizing all the lyrics are about you.

It’s hard not to think about you this way—and it’s especially difficult whenever he, Jaehyun, and Mark debut a new song at the cafe where they do regular performances. You’re always at the front, watching him and his bandmates with admiration and cheering them on with your other friends. For just a few hours, he can allow himself to believe that your smile is only for him.

Your apartment key comes in handy on one miserable day when Johnny is locked out of his place and it’s pouring down rain. Of course this happens the one time he forgets to check the forecast and leaves without an umbrella.

Your apartment is the closest to where he lives, close enough to walk to—run, in this weather—so he heads there without a second thought. After dealing with shitty customers at work and now this, he’s not in the mood to talk with his prickly landlord about his key; that will have to wait until tomorrow. He holds his bag over his head as he makes his way to your place, wondering if he should text you first. His phone is liable to get drowned as soon as he pulls it out, though, so he reasons that he has enough time before you get home from work to let you know he’s come by.

He’s relieved when he reaches your apartment building a few minutes later, soggy and cold, and he spends a few moments wringing himself out as best as he can before heading up the stairs.

Johnny takes the stairs two at a time until he reaches your floor, and soon enough he’s standing in front of your door. He slips his key into the lock and walks in, a pleasant shiver going down his spine from the warmth of your apartment.

He’s surprised when he hears music coming from your room. It’s loud enough that you likely can’t hear him, because you usually would’ve appeared at the sound of the door opening if you weren’t already in the front room.

Maybe he isn’t thinking entirely straight today—the earlier events did do a number on his composure. Any other time he would’ve made himself known before walking into your bedroom, but he makes a beeline for the door after dropping his things to the floor. You’ll probably fuss at him for the mess later, but he’ll make it up to you somehow.

Johnny pops into the doorway, already feeling less stressed out by the idea of seeing you. “Whassup bestie—” He’s stopped in his tracks by the sight of you standing in your full length mirror.

You’re wearing a black lingerie set, one with more lace than he knows what to do with. Something warm settles in his stomach as his eyes drink in your body, exploring every line and curve in a way that he hasn’t quite allowed himself to before. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, but in this entirely new context, something about the way the material hugs your body makes his blood rush south.

You quickly notice him standing there, though you don’t react with shock or even annoyance like he expected.

You and Johnny stare at each other for a few long seconds. He grips the doorknob as if he means to close the door, or maybe he just needs something to keep himself upright. His mouth hangs half-open from the words he meant to stay that promptly died on his lips. You smile coolly, finally breaking the tension, and his cock twitches at the sight of you grinning at him like that while wearing your pretty lingerie.

In hindsight, he’s surprised this situation hasn’t happened sooner.

“What do you think?” you ask, speaking a little louder to be heard over the music. You turn back to the mirror to give yourself another once-over. “It’s new. I bought it not too long ago, but this is my first time trying it on.”

“I…” Johnny knows the tips of his ears and his face must be red by now. “It looks great on you, really, um...really sexy.”

You smirk. “Good to know.” You turn away from him to shut off the speaker, and even with the music still on, you can hear his sharp intake of breath when his gaze falls to your ass. With the music now off, you casually walk over to where he stands. By now, you’ve given him a full show, and he has just enough shame left to pretend like he wasn’t staring.

“You’re soaking wet,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows at the state of his clothes and hair. You peel Johnny’s jacket apart to expose more of his shirt, which sticks to him and outlines his abs as clear as day. “You should take a shower before you get sick or something.”

Johnny is a little bewildered at the unaffected way you speak to him after being walked in on while wearing nothing but a few scraps of fabric. “I-it’s not like I brought any other clothes,” he says, willing himself to look in your eyes and not at your breasts as he speaks.

“Then I’ll put these in the dryer and you can wear them again later,” you say it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But seriously, get undressed…” You trace your finger against the collar of his shirt, and that one motion has his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to swallow. “...you’re dripping all over my floor.”

Johnny can only nod at your instruction. Light flirting is nothing new for either of you, but this situation feels charged in a way he hasn’t experienced with you before. He dares to wonder if you could maybe feel something for him too; and does that mean he failed at hiding his own feelings like he thought he could? His mind grows a little hazy at the idea of this going somewhere further, though he isn’t sure if he should hope for that much yet.

“Seriously, go, Johnny. You look like a drenched cat.” You push him gently in the direction of your bathroom, and he finally trudges down the hall with his head spinning.

--

Johnny leans his head against the tile wall of the shower, enveloped by the citrusy smell of your body wash. He turns the knob a little closer to the cold setting and closes his eyes, letting the water rush across his body. He’ll warm himself up under the hot water later, but right now he needs to take care of the problem throbbing between his legs. He can’t quite bring himself to masturbate in your bathroom with you only feet away in the apartment, so he settles for the classic cold shower until he can regain his thoughts.

Sighing, he pushes his fingers through his hair and thinks back to all the times he could’ve admitted his feelings but didn’t. “...Shit. I’m an idiot.”

--

Johnny walks back into your room with a towel around his waist. You’re leisurely lying on the bed scrolling through your phone, still wearing your two-piece set. He has a good view of your ass in this position, and he groans inwardly as he feels his dick trying to come back to life. Maybe he should’ve jerked off in the shower after all. You sit up when you hear him step into the room, throwing your phone on the bed beside you.

“You good?”

“I’m fine,” he says, though he doesn’t feel like it. His clothes aren’t done drying yet, and he didn’t think far enough ahead to consider that he’d be wandering around in nothing but a towel until then, but it’s too late to change that. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Look...are you...up to something?”

“Up to what, Jonathan?” You like calling him this when you want to tease him a little, though it takes much more than that to ever truly upset him. He isn’t quite sure how to frame his question now that he’s said it. Wearing that lingerie probably isn’t the best answer, because you’d been doing that before he ever entered your apartment. But the fact that you haven’t put anything else on yet has the wheels in his mind turning.

“Like, do you…are you...” He wiggles his eyebrows and glances over your body, trying to play it off like he’s joking, but you aren’t buying whatever he’s trying to sell. The usual finesse he has when flirting has vacated the premises.

“I know you’re not losing it over some underwear, Johnny.” You say this, but your eyes signal that you already know how he feels about it. “It’s not that different from our trips to the beach.”

“Come on. The beach is way different from this, Y/N.”

“Then tell me what’s different.”

“The difference is that I want to fuck you.” It slips out before he can really think it through, but it’s too late to snatch the words back now. He worries if he’s toed too far across the line. “Um, I mean—if you want? I don’t want to make shit weird—”

You crowd in behind Johnny, pressing your breasts against his back and resting your chin on his shoulder. You know you’ve got a better handle on the situation than him right now, but you also hope he doesn’t notice the slight tremble in your body. He seems stuck between wanting to lean into you further and stay stock-still. “Is that your big secret, Johnny Suh? You want to fuck me? You should’ve just said so. It’s not weird.”

You haven’t reacted in any of the ways he thought you would tonight, and it makes him think maybe he’s fallen off on being able to read you. Before he can respond, your lips are on his. He’s almost surprised with himself at how immediately he responds to your kiss, prying your lips apart so he can slide his tongue into your mouth. He lets some of his self control slip, his cock swelling under his towel as he tastes the inside of your mouth and grips your chin.

You make light work of Johnny’s towel, slipping it away from his body and gripping his half-hard dick in your hand. He groans into your mouth when you do this, and his first reaction is to push up into the circle of your first, wanting that friction on his skin. Your hand and his hips move in sync as you pump his shaft and he seeks more of your touch, moaning at the way your fingers spread his precum over his dick.

You break the kiss to move from behind him, settle at his side, and push against his chest. Realizing you want him to lie down, he does so, his reddish hair fanning out across your comforter. He almost shoots right back up when you lean down with his cock in your hand and draw your tongue across the tip of it, lapping up the beads of precum threatening to drip down. “Fuck, Y/N…” Your tongue passes his slit over and over again and he has to grip your thigh to ground himself, wanting nothing more than to make you deepthroat him until he comes in your mouth.

Your ass is facing him in this position, and no sooner than the idea comes in his head does he grasp your hips and maneuver you until you’re hovering above his face. You make a noise around his dick, letting him slip from your mouth before asking, “What are you doing?”

“...Returning the favor. Have you never 69’d before?”

“N-no, but…” Your thoughts trail away when he pulls your lacy panties to the side and exposes your pussy to the warm air of your room. You try to brace yourself for the sensation of his tongue on you, but instead he strokes his fingers across your outer lips, spreading you open for him. You stop your movements on his dick in response, your face burning with heat. “T-this is so—are you just gonna stare at it all night!?”

“Lower your hips more,” he says, and you do so, and you moan out loud at the first swipe of his tongue against your pussy, slow and wet. You take his shaft in your mouth again, reaching to fondle his balls as he circles his tongue over your clit.

Johnny slowly rocks his hips up, letting you find a good rhythm as you suck his dick. You are wet and warm and perfect on his tongue, and he presses your body closer so he can taste more of what you have to offer. He quickly adds his middle and index finger into the mix, searching the depths of your pussy, his cock twitching in your mouth whenever you whine or push your hips into his face just right.

It becomes a little harder to focus on pleasuring you as he nears his end, with your lips around his shaft so tight and wet and your hands squeezing him in a firm grip. “I’m gonna come,” he mumbles against your thigh, his mouth slick with your essence. That motivates you to keep working him over until his stomach tenses and his cum spurts across your tongue, thick ropes of it painting your mouth white. Some of it drips onto your hands, and you lick this up, too.

Johnny trembles and groans from the aftershocks of his orgasm, but he pulls your hips closer and continues eating you out and pushing his fingers into you until you shout and grind against his mouth, trying to ride the wave of ecstasy without tipping over. Even after you’ve already come, he sucks your clit so fiercely that you have to pinch his thigh and beg him to let up. He only lets you go after he’s pulled another gush of wetness out of you.

You assume Johnny would be in need of a break, but instead he slides you off of him and hurriedly pulls your panties down, his dick still stiff. He runs a hand across your chest and up to your neck, admiring the way the lingerie looks against your skin before undoing your bra. He wraps his lips around your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak.

“You’re still hard,” you say, though it’s more of a statement than a question, and you’re not really sure whether you’re talking to him or yourself.

“You make me this way.” He cups your other breast and lightly pinches your nipple as he says this, and for the first time tonight you feel truly flustered at how he looks at you as he makes that claim. “Do you have any condoms?”

“...The nightstand.” You watch as he rolls over to find a condom and tears it open, sliding the rubber onto his dick. He settles himself between your legs, his tip bumping into your entrance and making you sigh at the pleasure running through you.

“Are you ready?” he asks, grasping your hip with one hand and his length with the other. You nod, and he carefully sinks himself into your heat, a moan falling from his lips at how incredible you feel around him. How many times has he imagined this? The fantasies never quite measure up to the real thing.

A dozen emotions run through him—satisfaction at finally being inside you, a sense of affection that he’s trying not to think too deeply about, and genuine amazement at how you can look so pretty under him, shining with sweat and stuffed with his dick. For a split second he wonders if you two should really be doing this, about what your friendship will look like on the other side of this, but he decides not to dwell on it further when you grip his ass and push him deeper into you. “You’re really greedy,” he says half-jokingly as he pulls out and thrusts back into you.

“Then fill me up so I won’t be, Johnny.” You hold his face and close the distance between your mouths.

The room is thick with the sounds of each other’s moans and the slap of skin against skin. Johnny’s mouth hardly leaves your body, his tongue sliding across your neck and collarbones and back down to your breasts again. You hold onto him tightly as you match his thrusts, your bodies moving together at an even pace.

He grinds his hips into you so he can watch and feel you shudder as he does so, captivated at how he can get your body to react to him. He dips his head so he can kiss you again, like there aren’t enough kisses in the world for him to be truly satisfied, and you let him fuck you with his mouth and his dick as you draw your nails across his back.

Each time he circles his hips it stimulates your clit and brings you closer to orgasm, and he adds his fingers to the mix to speed along your release, wanting to experience you gushing and tightening around him. He is so intoxicated from the reality of what’s happening that the connection between his mind and mouth is becoming fuzzier, and he’s almost afraid of what he’ll say if he takes his lips away from you now.

Johnny’s pleasuring so many different parts of your body that it makes you unable to hold on any longer, and you come with your toes curling and back arching, fucking yourself onto his length with the last remnants of energy you have. You eventually slump against the bed, still reeling as he keeps stroking into you in search of his own end.

It comes soon after when you pull him by the nape of his neck and nibble and suck your way up to his ear, tugging on his piercing and whispering about how you want him to come for you. His pace becomes more erratic as he digs into you and feels his balls drawing up with his impending orgasm.

“I love...l-love your pussy,” he gasps into your neck. He is dangerously close to spilling his real emotions, but he cleans it up at the last second, unsure if this is just a platonic fuck to you or if you’d want more. He doesn’t want to ruin what you have by trying to find out, and the electricity traveling up his spine is rendering him too distracted to think over it anyway.

You continue clinging to him as Johnny bucks into you and empties his load into the condom, and you coax along his climax by squeezing your walls around him. He eventually pulls away after regaining his strength, panting and oversensitive from your actions.

“You like me,” is the first thing you say.

There’s no point in denying it now, and he can only sigh and scratch his head. “...Yeah. Actually, I’ve kinda liked you for years, so I think it’s safe to say it counts as ‘love’ now.”

You sit up, and Johnny distracts himself with tying the condom off and throwing it away, too nervous to sit still for your reaction. “But, I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I mean we’ve just been friends this whole time anyway, we can just—”

You bring your hands to Johnny’s face and cup his cheeks. “Sometimes you are really oblivious…” You lean closer to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “How could I not love you? You’re the most important person in my life.”

He pauses as if he doesn’t have a clue what you just said, then his eyes widen. You laugh at his comical expression. “You’re sure? Like, this wasn’t just a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me or something—”

“Never that.” And then you kiss him again, your lips lingering together for longer this time as his body relaxes into yours.

[theatricalwriter]

Can I get a male Mean Girls & Newsies ship? So I’m very tall and very clumsy. I do musical theater and I want to write musicals for a living. My favorite play is 12 Angry Men and my favorite musical is Waitress. I’m very assertive and confrontational. I’m protective and value my ambition and intelligence. I won’t let people push me over. However, I try to be a friend to everyone. I have a witty sense of humor. I really like rain, dogs, History, and true crime. Thank you!

thank you so much for being my first ship request!! sorry they took so long (and that they’re vv long) i just wanted to make sure they were the best they could be!! i’m still pretty new at this, so i apologize if they aren’t at their best yet. but i really hope you like them!! (i also didn’t know your gender, if you ideneify with one, so i tried keeping it as gender neutral as i possibly could

mean girls:

i ship you with kevin g!!

you and kevin met when regina decided to diss your friend

let’s just say that anyone who was around to witness it was quaking in their boots at the sight of you calling regina “the love child of satan and a barbie doll, especially since she has the personality of one.” “which one?” “yes.”

everyone was fearful for you, but kevin actually found it pretty fucking hot

when you, yes you, decided that the conversation was over, kevin was like “oh shit, this girl is a badass!!”

he knew of you already from some of his classes, but with you being more interested in musical theatre and he in mathematics, you were pretty much out of his orbit. still, he always thought you were pretty cool

so, in class a few periods after, he asked you if you wanted to go on a date with him and you said yes!!

as far as first dates went, yours with kevin was pretty good!! you went to a diner in town where you two talked about yourself and interests

he thought you were absolutely adorable when you told him all about your favorite things like the rain or how much you adore history or how freaking cute dogs are

BUT he knew that he wanted to be with you when he saw your eyes light up with passion as you talked about your favorite shows. like, the way you spoke about how the soundtrack of waitress was so incredibly written or how 12 angry men played on another interest of yours (true crime), well, he just felt that feeling in one’s heart when they know they really like someone

so y’all eventually got together!!

as your relationship progressed, he saw how clumsy you were. tbh, he found it pretty terrifying at first, but after seeing you trip enough times and get up five seconds later, totally fine, he started to find it kind of endearing.

like, say you ever got a scratch, he’d place that bandaid on top of it and give it a lil kiss and F L U F F

your relationship is also a lot of supporting one another. you cheer him on at the mathlete competitions and him popping up at your shows with flowers after pretty much screaming during your bows

he loves how into those true crime shows you get. tbh, you two probably have marathons for this kind of program and i can almost guarantee you for every episode he says something like “it was the sister, fucking obvious.” and then it’s the sister. do you make bets? yes.

my idea is that one night when you win a bet, you two have your first kiss

like, you’re both just cuddled up under blankets with pizza boxes beside y’all (the bet’s probably over the last slice) and you win and get so excited that you get close to his face to rub it in that you were right. SO he just sees how adorable you look at that moment and shoots his shot

it was a shock to you at first, but it was also just perfect that you practically melted

he got worried that he should’ve asked first but you shut him up by giggling and getting closer to him beneath the blankets

cuddles are a thing and they are constant

wearing his mathlete jacket alL THE FUCKING TIME

debates and insult battles are a thing (usually ends with you victorious and kevin salty bc he can’t match you)

he loves watching you destroy someone who acts like a total dick to either you, him, or any of your friends tbh bc it totally turns him on

but the fact that you’re so sweet to others makes him so happy as well. like, you really be standing up for strangers and making new friends like THAT

for your birthday, you’re surprised with tickets to see the national tour production of waitress and IT WAS GREAT!! you got your playbill signed and got to spend a whole day in the city with your favorite person

that day was a day you’d never be able to forget, bc that day let you know how much you really loved this man

“i love you, kev.”

“i love you too.”

newsies:

i ship you with crutchie!!

you were katherine’s apprentice of sorts

you really want to write vaudeville shows (since musicals didn’t really become a thing until oklahoma was written) so you have to settle for the criminal section of the newspaper

one very hot day day you were out looking for a story to either write for yourself or give to katherine when you met crutchie

you passed by a dog and were freaking BESIDE YOURSELF with love!! he was a stray and you knew it was probably not a very good idea to try and pet it, but he was just giving you these cute baby eyes (thankfully he didn’t bite)

then you heard the sweetest laughter from a couple feet away from you. it was a boy with a dirty face, albeit an adorable face, sandy hair and a leg that didn’t seem to be working too well so he had a crutch

“sorry. didn’t mean to laugh there.”

“no, it’s okay. i probably look a mess right now.”

“uhh... n-no, you’se actually look pretty nice.”

you two talked for a bit before it started to get darker. before you parted ways, he told you his normal selling spot and you said you’d hope to see him soon. which you did btw bc you went to talk to him a lot

one day, you went back and he wasn’t there :(

you didn’t say anything to anybody in hopes that he was maybe sick or something, but then you heard about a brawl with the newsboys and got worried.

you went to jacobi’s with kath and even though they were all hyped from being in the pape despite being beat the hell up, you asked a kid with a cigar where crutchie was

“OOoOHh, so YOU’RE the one crutchie’s been talkin about?!”

cue a bunch of teasing from the boys and big blushing/heated face from you before you regain your composure and stand your fucking ground and practically demand to know where he is

they approve

but you were devastated to find out what happened to crutchie!! this made you go: “what can i do to help?”

they approve 10X

after the news strike is won, crutchie was released from the refuge. he hugged and was greeted by all his friends, but then his eyes landed on you AND WHEN I TELL YOU THIS BOY’S INFECTIOUS SMILE BECAME 20X BRIGHTER THE SUN SAID “FUCK”

you threw your arms around his boy and he did the same to you

“i missed you.”

“i missed ya too.”

you pulled back to look at his face, and you could see the need for our approval in his eyes. when you nodded, you kissed. all the boys were loud as hell and i’m pretty sure jack might’ve teared up out of pride a little bc YOU KNOW that crutchie gushed about you to this man

so, your relationship is cute as hell

like, you’d probably spend a few of your nights in the lodge and you’d probably be writing on your notepad and he’d just love your little writing face

also, if you write music for your shows, he would want to hear some of it!!

he loves how smart you are and loves it when you read your work out loud to him before you go to sleep. also loves hearing you give him little historical facts. it’s just something he finds interesting

once again, you being clumsy worries him. it worries him a lot.

crutchie finds it so funny when you sass the boys. ESPECIALLY race. you basically ruin this man’s career on the daily.

but you’re friends with all of the newsies!! which he loves!! it’s important that you and his family get along and you do so that’s all that matters.

say the delanceys tried some shit. you’d fuck them up with words alone and they’d scamper like the rats they are.

one day, you sat with him at his spot. it started to rain, and while everyone else on the street started to groan and find a place for cover, you let out a joyful laugh before heading out into the street and just danced

crutchie saw the pure happiness in your eyes as the rain hit your perfect face and let out a laugh of his own

you felt transported back to that day you met, and you skipped over to him and planted the sweetest, most love-filled kiss on his lips

tbh, just a cute fucking relationship overall

[candymayvary]

in the moment kiss with a pairing of your choosing

i’m in an axel mood again always tbh so here u go

Prompts here!

4. In The Moment Kiss - Maybe it’s in the middle of an argument or you just looked to damn beautiful not to kiss, but their lips were hot against yours and it felt too good to stop.

Adrenaline comes out of the left field, and sucker punches Harper in the cheek. Not unusual, considering she was also running on about three cups of coffee (black, doubly black, like her soul at that point), maybe at least one energy drink, that smelt kind of funny and was electric blue in her glass, and just,

Feelings. The worst kind of energy booster, because it made everything rose coloured and unreasonable, and sometimes a little sad. Or happy. Or mad. Harper had to admit she hadn’t always been good with feelings, as they always gate crashed when they weren’t invited to the party. 

Like right now. Like why she threw on a jacket that was crumpled and bundled her hair up in a scarf in an attempt to hide how she needed a shower. How her mannequin sat, unfinished and sad, stuck with pins and notes and measurements, because it was getting past seven. Late. She was so late. Harper imagined a little white rabbit with a clock running ahead, as she grabbed keys, purse, phone. As she legged it out the hallway, joining the throng of students.

Feelings sucked, because they were making her break all her little rules, ignored her homework, and run headfirst into unknown territory. Sure, she said she’d go (with everyone else) to his show (because everyone else was going, and not because he asked her personally), and Harper couldn’t turn down a friend, right? That would be rude. Harper tried to be anything but blatantly rude. 

Raquel sees her before she sees Raquel. Whatever, it worked, because they clamber into the back of so-and-so’s car, everyone talking a mile a minute. First time in a long time Axel had apparently secured tickets for friends, or so the conversation went. First time in a long time he’d let people backstage, too. Whatever that implication was, as Raquel slowed her words pointedly, maintained a threatening level of eye contact, and shook Harper a little. 

Okay, so people joked Harper had some sort of magic sway over Axel, but right now it was feeling like a two-way street, and people just weren’t seeing her side. She wasn’t social social, only really fond of the odd dramatic appearance at bigger things. She wasn’t an active purveyor of the music scene. Concerts were just if she remembered, and if she managed to convince others to come along. The most live band experience she had was those in beer gardens, when Harper was dragged out to some family event, and dinner was at the local restaurant. This was getting to be so far out of her depth, Harper could feel the water rising.

Or maybe it was just the blood in her cheeks, when someone opened a live stream. They weren’t late, per say, and definitely not early. But Axel was on stage, greeting fans, talking through screams. Someone near the front was getting a full HD version of him, and all Harper had was a grainy screen, barely catching the things he was saying, all of it drowned out by people screaming they loved him.

And here she was. Harper K., voted most likely to date a rockstar. 

It wasn’t for lack of trying, anyway. Sitting back, Harper continued to stare at her nails, at the window, at anything besides what everyone else was watching. How animated Axel was, answering questions, talking about releases, winking into cameras as he went. They’d talked about that, the persona he puts on. Some days, there wasn’t a difference between Axel and Axel. Other days, there really was.

Harper kind of didn’t want to start splitting them apart at that stage. Especially not when they arrive, ushered backstage before anyone caught wind of them doing so. Something about a private list, the agent practically blowing steam from his ears at such a thing, but they get the fancy bracelets and lanyards. Get a gift bag of merchandise that gets a lot of laughs and one suggestion from Harper herself about how much these would go for online.

“A good couple of hundred, definitely.”

There’s a few cheers of ‘Axel!’ when he throws his two cents in. Harper manages a ‘hey’, that thankfully sounded a lot stronger than she felt. No, she wasn’t going to focus on how he looked good, and not the putting it on for his waiting crowd, but for once he was. Just. Good. Nice. Clean?

Fuck, Harper thinks, and it might’ve shown on her face, from the way even Tyler rolls his eyes at her. Oh, whatever. It’s not her fault they had been teetering on the edge of will they, won’t they for at least a good month. Maybe more. Not like Harper was actually keeping track of these things, because that meant thinking and talking about feelings, and right now. 

Right now Axel was in front of her, smiling and chatting and doing that thing with his hands she couldn’t stop watching. Oh man. She was in so deep and it sucked. 

It sucked because she wanted to like. Kiss him. Or throw him down. One or the other, right now she couldn’t figure it out, hyper aware of her jacket that barely managed to look decent after hanging off her for a good half an hour, or how her hair was greasy, or that thank god she packed one of those stupid mini perfumes her aunt bought her every year. Not like she was going to linger on why she cared so much, either. 

God, he was wearing jeans that looked a size too small and it was doing things to her. She was mad. At him, at the fashion industry. Everything. Hormones definitely included.

Whatever the conversation was, she lost it. Completely and totally, too busy focusing on the outline of Axel’s ass in those jeans, or how he was doing that stupid little half smile that was all kinds of rude, and how she was so dumb. So dumb and blind and Harper wasn’t sure if this was the point where she was supposed to give up and accept fate. Yeah? Nah? Either option wasn’t looking too good.

Raquel loops her arm through Harper’s, signalling the end of the conversation. Something about moving them to the seats set aside, or whatever. Wherever. Axel’s agent looked like he was going to blow a casket, and everyone was having too much fun with it. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

A hoot joins Raquel, and Harper begins to follow when Axel speaks up. “Can I speak to Harper for a second?”

Oh. No. At least three different alarms were going off in her head, as Raquel wiggles her eyebrows with a ‘take all the seconds you need,’ followed with his agent saying something about needing to get onstage. Now. Like ten minutes ago. 

“It’ll just take a minute.”

“You said a second!”

Axel smiles, all cheeky and smarmy, causing Harper’s stomach to flipflop. Heavily. Whatever butterflies were taking up residence in her gut needed to consider new housing, because she was having none of this weak-knees bullshit, no sir. 

Feeling a little like a doll being pushed and pulled, with how Raquel completely throws her into Axel and runs off with everyone else, Harper wants to complain. Wants to pout a little and suck up to Ellie, or just drown herself in fancy material and homework for the rest of the night. Something other than catching her breath as she stares up at Axel, noticing how pretty his eyes were in this light, and how he hadn’t stopped smiling since they arrived. 

“Hey,” he says, and it’s so infuriating on some level, that he wasn’t worrying the way she was practically going to combust. Did he not feel the tension right now? Was she reading all the wrong signs? After all, she’d only spent the last few weekends hauled up in different bedrooms, crying into tubs of ice cream over her problems, to whoever could put up with her long enough.

But Harper responds. “Hey.”

“You look good.” Axel slips from a soft smile to a wide grin. Damn him. Damn him and his pretty face. And whatever type of cologne he was wearing, because the pretty boy smelt pretty damn good. 

“You clean up well too, y’know. Trying to outshine me here?” Tries to keep her tone light and teasing, because if Axel was going to ignore the way his agent was crawling up the walls, then so would she. If only because she was sure she’d be up there soon, too, anyway.

Looks over his shoulder, if only to control her heartbeat. One day, her body wouldn’t betray her like this. Especially not when she was greasy and tired, remnants of pencil on the sides of her hands, the odd pen mark on her fingers. Maybe a line on her pants she was acutely aware of. Ew.

Harper notices that he stopped talking then, or at least had no intention to keep going. Good. Thank you very much, she thinks, and finally looks at him. And notices how his face just got closer. 

Well, shit.

This was. Well. It was very different. Axel was warm and Harper was distinctly aware of the strawberry flavoured lip balm, and his hands on her waist, and how his eyes slid shut. Maybe she should shut hers too. Maybe she should get more into it. Whatever thoughts and actions she wanted to have, there was a disconnect between everything, because she was pretty sure synapses caught on fire, and someone threw a bucket of confetti on everything.

Mostly because lord have mercy, but Axel was kissing her — slipping her a bit of tongue, even — and was clearly ignoring the squawking around them. Fine. She could ignore them too. Slips her arms around his neck and kisses back a little harder, a little better into it on her behalf. Tilts her head, closes her eyes. Harper won’t deny that the fire roaring in her wasn’t wholly bad, with just how she tingled. Harper would cover up the fact that she might’ve thought an ‘oh yeah baby’, as that thought was just between her and the other mini Harper’s running in her head, one part celebration, one part also celebration but louder.

Goddamn, if she’d known kissing Axel was this good, she might’ve done it earlier. Thank god he was clearly more confident than her, right then, at that exact moment. 

[themadnessthatis]

So, Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness...

Warning, this is going to be a long-ass post, mostly me rambling about how TR6 was a game with good concepts but shitty execution. Expect a bit of non-linear ranting.

I have some serious Opinions™ on this game, now having finished it (which was a quasi-Herculean feat in of itself from fighting against the game the whole time, but more on that in a bit).

When I first got this game, eyes full of wonder and amazement, I was like “aw yeah, a new Tomb Raider for a new generation of consoles!”. Having only played it for a bit my opinion quickly soured, and the game was never played after having fallen down a hole and dying in the Parisian sewers. All I said to myself at the time was “wow, this game is shit,never playing this again :| .”

Which I didn’t, until recently.

Fast forward a bit, and a friend of mine lends me her PC copies of Tomb Raider 2-through-6 (sadly no copy of TR1  :’[ ), which I sat down and played, all while eyeing up the box containing AoD with animosity. Boy did I regret saying I wouldn’t mind if she lent me that one as well.

But after going through the other games with various degrees of ease, from the “wow it’s over already?” of Chronicles to the “Will it never end?” of TR3 (which I personally rate as the worst of the “old school” Tomb Raiders. Just....fuck that game, the best part of it is the credits, but I digress.), we were left with just one more game; Angel of Darkness, sitting there, almost expectantly.

“Well, it’s been a while, maybe I was just bad at the game, and it’s actually alright?” I said as I set about installing it, ready to give the game the benefit of the doubt.

Well the fact that controller setup was a pain in the arse should’ve been a dead giveaway that something was up. Though is was nowhere near as infuriating as Chronicles, which required a fucking JoyToKey configuration to get it to work smoothly, otherwise jumps would result in Lara just careening off to the side every.fucking.time.)

Actually, when you first play AoD, the controls are really the first thing you’ll pick up on. I.E: they’re the worst. Really they’re the biggest flaw of this whole game, and if they weren’t as clunky and gods-awful as they are, AoD might’ve been a much better experience. Lara controls like a fucking Mark IV from 1917; turns, speed, everything. It’s such a jarring shift from the previous installments that it really takes some time getting used to, and could be a reall deal-breaker. Also Lara no longer runs like she used to, more like a slow jog, only gaining the ability to sprint later in the game (you know, the thing she could do at the very beginning of TR3, 4 and 5? Like she has to learn how to use her legs, after all of her previous escapades?!). Jumping also seems to have undergone some hideous transformation; from somewhat fluid sequences to an absolutely jerky mess of a mechanic, not helped by Lara needing some space to build up momentum (from walk to jog). Like the only time she handles almost smoothly is when she’s swimming (which thank fuck no longer has her getting stuck on the walls and floor like she did in previous games.).

When you’re not busy fighting against the controls and some of the early Capcom-esque fixed camera angles, you might be able to notice some of the changes to the TR formula, for better or for worse.

Perhaps the most noticeable is Lara’s equipment; gone are her iconic (not Ubisoft iconic, mind you) pistols with unlimited ammo. In their place Lara can collect a plethora of new pistols, including a very nice taser. Though this is moot when Lara eventually loses all of her acquired weapons, as she is wont to do if TR1, 2 and 3 are anything to go by. You also get the classic shotgun and two SMGs. Though tbh, and this might just be me, but don’t all of the weapons in this game feel like the do the same amount of damage?

One thing that was a nice touch was the inventory revamp. The ring-like setup from previous TRs is gone, and now each type of item (health, weapons and puzzle clues) have their own inventory sections, making it less of an eyesore than the cluttered messes of the previous game’s inventories. Speaking of health, the repertoire of healing items has been increased, with various items granting various degrees of health restoration, which is nice, no more wasting medikits (though i do not understand how a chocolate bar could heal a person, but whatever, video game logic, i guess.). The puzzle clues section does get kinda cluttered though, as Lara doesn’t seem to want to get rid of anything she picks up, even if she no longer needs it, so her pockets are basically just full of security cards and bits of paper until the end of the game like JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK JUST DUMP THAT SHIT IN A BIN, LARA!”.

On the subject of puzzles, it’s great that that is an element that has carried over to AoD nicely, unlike some of the more modern titles (looking at you, Tomb Raider 2013). The Hall of Seasons was a great example of this, and is very reminiscent of the St Francis’ Folly from the original games, what with its God-themed rooms. Granted that there were other “puzzles” that were a little too obvious, like “push table to find mixture to kill giant plant”. But overall,  the puzzle side of Tomb Raider is definitely there. Although, there are no secrets to find (but after TR3 and 4′s “And your reward is FLARES” bullshit, I’m okay with that).

So, what about the story? To be perfectly honest, it’s as about as normal as a Tomb Raider story line can be: Secret sect looking for paintings so they can resurrect an ancient race of human/angel hybrids that was destroyed back in biblical times except not all of them, and Lara gets involved b/c they killed Von Croy and she was framed for it... Look, it’s certainly not as far-fetched as “Italian mafia dude looking for magic Chinese knife that turns people into dragons instead of corpses when stabbed with it.” (Love you, TR2, but what even...), or whatever the hell was going on in TR3 with its magical ancient Polynesian artifacts and “rapid evolution”, but it’s out there.

Mechanics wise, there have been some changes that are quite nice in concept, but are failed by poor execution (a running theme for this game). The grip meter is a new thing, and is influenced by Lara’s upper body strength (like how her jumping/sprinting and door-kicking are affected by her lower body strength), like a sort of RPG attribute. These body strength factors are a nice tough and could’ve been a plus in a good game, but here the attributes are given out at arbitrary moments throughout the game and feel forced, like at one moment Lara must gain an upper body strength upgrade by just shunting a pile of boxes around for no real reason. When you couple this with the sluggish momentum-based “running”, it’s almost like the developers were trying to go for a more “realistic” feel but didn’t really know how to go about it.

There’s also a certain Bioware-esque dialogue tree that pops up from time to time in the game. While it’s a nice touch, the fact that there’s no real change to the outcome (bar 3 exceptions) kind of makes the interactions pointless.

Going past the mechanics, the game itself (at least on PC), is a glitchy, buggy mess that would crash for no reason. Textures are missing, walls vanish in some of Kurtis’ (a boring, bland secondary character we get to play as, and I’ll get to him in a second.) levels for no reason, not to mention that one level can be skipped entirely thanks to a bug where Lara just has to roll into a fucking wall. Also, not certain if it’s more an exploit than it is a bug, but it’s kinda of an anticlimax that the last two bosses can be cheesed by just commando-crawling under their projectiles. The greatest menaces to humanity, outdone by toddler maneuvers .

Now, onto Kurtis...Kurtis is a member of an organisation dedicated to stomping out evil, particularly sorcery and alchemy (thus pitting him against the big baddie, Eckhardt, who looks like he just got done trying to audition for the part of Auron from Final Fantasy). He’s supposed to come across as some sort of bad boy with magical powers, but honestly he’s a boring, ugly, fucking Broody McGravelvoice with no personality. You get to play as him for all of 3 (or was it 4?) levels, and boy oh boy, you will hat him throughout all of them. Somehow, and I didn’t know it was possible, somehow he controls WORSE than Lara. He moves like he’s got a broom up his arse and jumps like he’s on the fucking moon. His levels feel like they were  some De-mastered edition of Until Dawn, full of enemies that serve no purpose other than to drain you of resources, and are capped off with the worst boss fight ever, thanks to twitchy auto-aim and Kurtis’ shoddy controls. Like fucking Mark Williard at  the end of TR3 was more feasible than this cavalcade of bullshit. Also the first time he meets Lara in the Louvre, the cut-scene is just so unsettling and creepy, she should’ve just beat his arse into the tiled floor there and then. I seriously hope he’s dead.

And the ending... What a bloody disappointment; Lara wanders off into a dark passage after killing the bigger bad, and then...nothing. No credits, no “the end” screen, the game just shits you back onto the “Press Start” screen.

But in the end, after all was said and done, I think my opinion of AoD has shifted somewhat. I don’t hate it like I thought I did, I’m just, I dunno, disappointed...This game had so many good ideas that were handled so poorly, and it certainly wasn’t helped that, at least on the PC version, it was a glitch-fest and the controls were piss-poor. And as a final insult? Jiggle physics. I’m not fucking kidding like Core Design  couldn’t iron out the bugs and do something about the arse-backwards controls, but they gotta make sure dem jiggly titties are in there? -_-’ Fucking hell what a dumpster fire of a game. Like I want to like it but the fuck-headedness of it all just, just no.