#how to apply for SNAP

[cyb3r-pupp]

Sometimes I think oh I could totally brat but then I remember that I fold like a cheap tent at the slightest hint of possibly being praised

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i like it whenever magneto gets giddy about there being An Atom of metal in the vicinity like i love that for you old man. you can kill people now.

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the biggest things that makes me see Leo as trans is absolutely the size of his carapace in comparison to his brothers’.

And I’m not talking about height! I’m specifically looking at his shell here, because when you compare him to the others, particularly Donnie who is nearly the same height as Leo, it’s very clear that Leo’s carapace is much longer in proportion to the rest of his body.

Like - standing side by side, even though Donnie is shorter his carapace ends noticeably higher up than Leo’s does. And I like this not only because it really helps push the idea that Leo could very likely be trans (or intersex!), but it’s also just a fun design difference between them.

(It also lends way to future scenarios of Donnie eventually getting taller than Leo, but sitting down still has Leo being the taller one haha.)

[jinxviolets]

things are almost never solely black or white and nuance exists and that doesn’t justify horrible actions but what it DOES do is encourage everyone to have an ounce of critical thinking skills

[majorbaby]

fanart of columbo never misses. that man's vibes are gaseous, they fill up whatever shape you draw him into. i know this because 1) i've never seen columbo fanart on the dash and said 'who is that??' it's always "it's him!!!!" and 2) i'm an amateur visual artist who has never seen an episode of the show but one time i was moved to draw him and he was still recognizable. peter falk's performance demands such respect, it's impossible to visually misrepresent him. draw him skinnier, draw him taller - you can't! you won't! you wouldn't dare!!!

[m0e-ru]

guy who finished p2 is yesterday voice : I love persona because theres divorce

[snapbackslide]

if anyone got tips pls share with the group 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[xxplastic-cubexx]

ethics professor said we have to submit a doodle alongside our final quiz bout something that reminds us of the class chat do i do the funniest thing ever or be a safe lil square

[himblebo]

And now I’m re attaching all of the original snaps because 2/3 of what I thought was a fit issue making the entire closure pucker on the actress was actually just the snaps being horridly misaligned

[multifandomhoodies]

American Samoa has one of the highest (if not THE highest) per capita in the US for being in the military. They also are not considered US citizens. They would have to apply and take the citizenship test if they wanted to become citizens on mainland US.

The United States — ALL of it

[frogmisc]

LEAVING AFTER AN ARUGMENT. . . you leave for an unrelated reason after an argument and he panics lads & f! reader

( I. ) first time writing for these guys kinda nervous eeeeeek ALSO what nicknames are we calling the boys? like is it baby, honey, or what cuz sometimes i wanna write dialogue for reader when she calls him and it's not his actual name if that makes any sense? lol

( II. ) send any lads reqs if you want ! i can't guarantee i'll get to them, but i'll try :)

. . .

it seemed like all you did was argue lately. tensions were high as both your schedules clashed, leaving no time for any meaningful connection. he was busy with work, irritated beyond belief as his colleagues continued to piss him off; you were drowning in missions, sorely overdue for some time off. everything you did annoyed him, and everything he did annoyed you.

you came out the shower, clad in your pajamas. you applied some lip balm while your eyes drifted to where he sat in the living room. despite your own exhaustion, you could tell he was stressed and wanted to offer some comfort. but after just one question of are you okay—

"for the last time, don't worry about it." he snapped, his jaw clenching as he attempted to retain control on his emotions.

your eyes narrowed at his tone, swallowing the hurt stuck in your throat as you carefully chose your next words. "i only want to help you—"

"well, you're not. in fact, you're making things worse."

your mouth opened... then closed. you stepped back, shaking your head at the audacity, emotionally clocking out of the conversation.

"right." you muttered, grabbing your phone and keys before snatching your coat off the rack impatiently.

he was so consumed in his own problems and how he would fix them that he hadn't noticed the uneasy silence that followed. he looked up, his discerning gaze scanning his surroundings. he caught the slam of the front door, blood draining from his face. he'd done it now.

🍎 CALEB

"...pips?" he asked the empty room, his voice quiet as if hoping to attract wildlife. the couch creaked as he stood slowly, his heart racing erratically in his chest. "hello?"

when he was met with no response, he ran over to the door. his throat constricted when he didn’t see your shoes next to his. shit. he shouldn't have said that. he groaned and ran his hands over his face. he really shouldn't have said that.

"makin' things worse? really, caleb?" he mumbled to himself in disbelief.

though his hand flew to the door handle, he hesitated to turn it. his thumb tapped on the handle anxiously. stupid, stupid, stupid. every fiber of his being ached to run after you, scoop you up into his arms, and take you back home where you belonged.

a part of him was scared—what if he ran after you and you finally told him to go away for good? he wouldn't do that in a million years, of course, but... he didn't want you to hate him, whatever the reason was. especially if it was his own doing. he couldn't live without you, and the empty house he stood in was a painful reminder.

he thought back to all the times he's brushed you off for work recently, leaving you in his flat with a placating kiss to your cheek. he didn't expect the fleet to demand so much of his attention, and now both of you were suffering for it.

caleb cursed under his breath and shoved his feet into his shoes, ripping the door open and sprinting down the street. he called your name, spinning around on the road to cover his bases, searching for any rustle, scent, or noise that would lead him to you.

"caleb, what are you doing?" you sighed from behind him.

he straightened up and turned, his hopes refusing to sink even after seeing the glare on your face. you just looked so cute in your pajamas and puffy jacket. he frowned, a new wave of guilt washing over him.

"get out of the road, please? and put on a shirt if you're outside—" your lecture was cut short as caleb hugged you tight, worming his warm hands under the wings of your coat and clothes "...what is up with you?" you asked softly, returning the embrace.

he squeezed you tight, savoring the feeling of your skin under his fingers. "i thought you left."

"i mean, i did. i just forgot my headphones in my car—"

"you scared me," he whispered into your neck.

an unbelieving laugh bubbled out of you, put off by his strong reaction. "what—did you think i left left?"

"yes." he whined, standing back and tilting your head up to face him. "you don't ever make things worse, princess. i don't know why i said that—"

"caleb."

"no, you're the only good thing i have left and i—" he choked up, his eyelids squeezing shut. "you don't deserve that. i love you, you know that right? i love you."

"i love you, too." you gripped his wrist, bringing him back down. "our lives aren't easy, and i don't expect you to be perfect all the time. we're both going to get to stressed and maybe annoyed with each other, but... i don't want us to grow apart because of it."

"no, never." he gripped your face with both hands, holding you firmly as if he were trying to communicate his pledge into your skull. "i'll never lash out like that again, pips, i promise. i know you were just trying to help—i'm so sorry." he peppered kisses all over your face until you wriggled out of his arms.

you extended your pinky, an expectant look on your face. he smiled gratefully and hooked his pinky with yours, allowing you to string him along back to bed and into your arms, where he belonged.

SYLUS

he checked the cameras surrounding his home, watching you storm down the pathway to your car. his heart thumped when the car door slammed shut, and he turned off the camera feed to save his thoughts from running wild.

he rose calmly from his chair, abandoning his drink and phone as he paced. ...he shouldn't have snapped at you. your look of hurt and betrayal was seared into his mind. the echo of you persisted even as he closed his eyes. i only want to help.

sylus debated enlisting the help of luke and kieran to keep an eye on you. he didn't want to pressure you to return home if you were upset with him, but he also wanted to be the one to comfort you... for a slight of his own doing... hm. what a paradoxical feeling.

his work required much of his time and effort, as did yours. of course the N109 zone had to act up when you finally found the time to spend the night. his stomach twisted with disappointment. what kind of man was he to put work over the most precious treasure of his life?

sylus gritted his teeth, grabbing his robe and tying it on before racing out the door. his motorcycle buzzed to life as he approached. mounting it with ease, he pulled up the map on his phone to check—

"where are you going at this hour?" you cast him a sideways look, judgement written all over your features.

...perhaps he should have checked the garage cameras before rushing outside with the intent of chasing your car down.

for once, his expression did not reflect his usual collected demeanor. "i... i thought you had left."

you held up your headphones. "forgot these in the car."

"i see." sylus cleared his throat, turning off his bike's engine. he swallowed thicky, choosing his words carefully as he had failed to do earlier. "i didn't mean what i said, kitten. making things worse is something you are not capable of."

you waved him off, turning to retire to bed. he frowned, hopping off his motorcycle and catching your hand, halting your withdrawal.

"i'm tired, sylus." you sighed, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

of me? he thought in a panic, his throat suddenly bone-dry. sylus always had something to say, but in this moment, nothing he came up with seemed right. "what i said was in error. i never want to hurt you, so for tonight, i deeply apologize."

"sy..." you quirked an amused smile up, and his brows furrowed in confusion. "i am really tired. and i imagine you are, too. we're both high-strung, and you're not going to be perfect all the time."

"you deserve nothing less," he argued with a firm shake of his head. his hands rested on your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

"you demonstrate that to me everyday, but i don't expect that of you all the time. you're human." your hand lifted to hold his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin after he leaned into your touch. "but when we fall short, i don't want us to take it out on each other."

his hand covered yours, pressing a kiss to your palm regretfully. "...i know, sweetie. i'm sorry. i love you, and seeing you walk out today reminded me that you mean the world to me. i would sooner abandon my work than push you away."

"i love you, too." you smiled and he brought you closer to his chest, hugging you as though he were afraid you would disappear.

when the night breeze made you shiver, he lifted you in his arms and tumbled into bed with you, his work long forgotten the moment your soft giggles hit his ears.

RAFAYEL

rafayel didn't look up from his blank canvas after realizing you left, but painting was the last thing on his mind. his knee bobbed uncontrollably, his brush wagging between his fingers nervously.

why did he say that? he always had to have the last word, even when he didn't mean anything that left his mouth. he might as well have said get out, i don't need you, when the truth was the polar opposite.

he heard your car engine rumble to life and fear seized his chest. you weren't—you weren't leaving were you?

rafayel knew his attitude was a lot to deal with sometimes. getting snippy when you were both upset was a recipe for disaster, and he often envied your patience in those instances. he always wondered when you would finally get fed up with him though he never believed it would happen.

until it did, today.

you were one of the few that loved him as he was and he was not letting you go because he let his exhaustion screw everything up.

he let his tools clatter to the floor as he sprung to his feet, speeding to the driveway. he spotted your car and practically ran into it, slamming his hands against the driver's window.

huh? rafayel peered inside but the driver's seat was empty. weird, he swore he heard you scream...

the backseat window rolled down, your annoyed head popping out soon after. "what are you doing?! you scared me!"

he scooted over to the back window sheepishly, his confusion apparent on his face. "what, uh... what are you doing?" he coughed to cover up his quivering voice, resting his arms on the door.

you bent over, searching under the seats. "i'm looking for my headphones. i'm pretty sure they rolled under here somewhere..."

his eyes darted to the front, seeing the dashboard lit and ready to go. "you turned the car on, so i thought..."

"i needed the lights. my phone wasn't enough." you explained hurriedly, then paused. you sat up and stared at him. "...you thought what?"

"i thought you left." he mumbled. rafayel's fingers rapped along the roof of your vehicle that it could've passed as rain. after a moment, he gave into his need to be close to you, opening the door and slipping into the backseat.

"you know i didn't mean it, right?" he began.

you glanced at him, shrugging. "i don't know. did you?"

"i didn't." he said indignantly, but his tone softened when he remembered his goal: apologize, not defend. "i would never mean something like that, cutie. i say stupid things when i'm backed into a corner. that's no excuse, though."

"yeah." you concede, sitting beside him. the soft melodies from the radio made the dip in the conversation less uncomfortable. "you really thought i was going to leave?"

he ran his hand through his hair nervously. "i thought you finally got tired of me."

"raf..." you frowned, your hand reaching to his. "we'll get tired of each other from time to time. it comes with being life partners—there's good days and bad days. doesn't mean we love each other any less."

you pulled his head into your shoulder and he didn't waste any time curling into you, clinging to you like his life depended on it. you could feel his racing heartbeat against your skin, but with every deep breath of your scent, it calmed down. little by little. his hair brushed against your cheek as he nuzzled impossibly closer.

"i know. but as your life partner, i should be making you happier. i'm sorry for losing sight of my top priority." he pressed an apologetic kiss to the crook of your neck. "i love you more than anything."

you smiled, stroking his fluffy hair. "i love you, too."

thomas found you two cuddled up in the backseat together the next morning.

ZAYNE

regret flooded him immediately. he let his head drop into his hands in disappointment, but his shame found him even as he closed his eyes. he didn't give himself time to wallow in self-pity—he got up, grabbed his jacket, and flew out the door after you.

he called your name just as he sees a flash of your pajamas turning around the corner into the garage. keys. he vaguely remembered the jingle of keys—did you intend to leave?

he burst into the garage after you, his breath short as he locked eyes with you over the hood of your car.

you raised an eyebrow but didn't stop moving. you were about to open the door when he grasped your arm, turning your body to face him. his grip fell from your biceps to your hands, lacing your fingers together pleadingly. you looked up in confusion—

"forgive me. i did not mean to snap. you were only trying to help, i know that—"

"zayne—"

"please, allow me to finish. i will never force you to do anything you do not wish to, but i promise i will never let my stress cloud my judgement in a way that makes you suffer. please don't go. i will—"

"zayne," your lips curved into a smile and zayne's brain had to buffer. "i'm not leaving."

he blinked, his eyes darting between you and your car. "but..."

you nodded to the center compartment through the window. "i left my headphones inside."

"oh."

your smile only grew as he released your hands, stepping back to allow you to open the door and retrieve your headphones. you pocketed your stuff and hooked arms with him, a gesture that weighed guilty upon his shoulders. he didn't deserve your affection after he lashed out at you, at least not so easily.

"i accept your apology." you hummed, leaning your head against his arm as he walked you back inside. "i wasn't mad, just... annoyed. we're both stressed out, and stuff like this will happen when we're both in bad moods. let's try not to make a habit of it."

"of course." he whispered. then, even quieter, "i don't deserve you."

you pursed your lips. "i don't like it when you talk down on yourself."

"i know," zayne murmured. "though it's hard not to when you... you make things so easy."

you smiled up at him. "loving you is easy."

his eyes communicated his gratitude, but the way he stopped in his tracks to embrace you said much more. i love you.

XAVIER

shit. xavier frowned, leaning back and peering through the window. he caught you walking down the street, dialing someone on your phone. when you spun around, he quickly let the curtains fall back into place. he didn't know what to do.

he was an idiot, that much he knew. xavier often got short when he was sleepy, but even more so when sleepy and stressed. he never meant to lash out at you, and normally he wouldn't, but... you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. with the sorry state he was in, the next person that talked to him was going to be unfairly assailed.

his palms grew clammy as he caught your voice muffled through the glass. you sounded upset. he peeked outside again, watching you vent. he winced and sunk back into the couch, his mind racing—what does he do? what does he say?

next, he heard a car pulling up to the house. his heart dropped in panic—he whipped around, watching someone park right where you stood. you opened the door...

oh, no. xavier scrambled off the couch, running past his coat and shoes out the door. he called your name as he sprinted down the sidewalk.

"what're you doing, xav?" you gave him a look before you entered the car, keeping a foot on the pavement to stabilize yourself as you climbed inside.

"wait—!" xavier came to an abrupt stop behind you, ready to pull you out if he needed to.

"yeah, that's my boyfriend." you laughed softly to tara. your friend ducked her head to catch a glimpse of him through the open door and waved in greeting.

huh?

"he looks like he's seen a ghost." tara mirrored your odd look from earlier.

xavier shifted behind you.

"he's been out of it all week, you know... working pretty hard." you rifled for something in the backseat, exclaiming happily once you recovered your headphones. "thanks for coming all this way, i appreciate it. have fun on your vacation."

"of course, no problem. think about having one yourself, hm?" tara smiled, honking her car in farewell as she disappeared down the street.

"i—i thought—" xavier took deep breaths to calm himself. "i'm so sorry."

"you thought what?" you asked, stuffing your headphones in your pockets.

"that you were going to leave." he admitted, blue eyes filled with panic and worry. "i'm sorry for snapping at you, you didn't deserve it. you never deserve anything like that, it won't happen again."

you flattened your hand against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. "it's okay, xav—"

"it's not." xavier's eyes hardened, guilt welling up inside him. why were you being so forgiving?

"i trust you won't do it again. even you seem surprised by your outburst. this isn't you, and both of us know that." you continued calmly. "sometimes the stress gets to us. i get it."

he bowed his head, covering your hand with his own and squeezing it every so often to soothe his nerves. "you could never make things worse. i love you, so much."

you smiled. "i love you, too. let's sleep in? i'll call in if you will."

"yes, please." he groaned with relief, nodding. he intertwined your fingers, swinging your hands between you as you walked back home.

──── love, honey.

[xoxojisu]

CRASHOUT CENTRAL!

synopsis: katsuki has no idea if you like him or not

notes: bubbly + affectionate reader. umm implied hetero girl i think? but could also apply to not hetero i have no idea im sorry im just writing. idk if men crashout the way girls do but i like to think so. a lot of excessive unnecessary swearing bc it's katsuki. this is so ooc bc lets be fr when does katsuki talk abt *puke* feelings

he’s pacing.

shirtless. agitated. hair all mussed from his own frustrated hands.

kirishima’s lying on his bed with his hands behind his head, watching his best friend spiral for what has to be the third time this week.

“she said i smelled good,” katsuki huffs, whirling around. “who says that? who just..! says that to someone?”

“people who think you smell good?” kirishima offers helpfully.

katsuki glares at him like he’s the dumbest person alive. “she said it while huggin' me. and she said it in that sweet fuckin' singsongy voice.”

“right.”

“and then laughed when i didn’t say anything back. all fuckin' giggly and stupid.”

“you like when she’s giggly and stupid,” kirishima points out.

katsuki makes a noise in his throat. “not when i’m trying to figure out if she’s in love with me or just likes everyone.”

kirishima hums. “well. she is kind of a naturally affectionate person.”

“exactly!” katsuki snaps, flinging his arms out. “what if i’m just one of her little fuckin'.. plushies she likes huggin' or some shit? what if she’s going around being all sweet and smiley with everyone and i’m here thinking she wants to marry me? like, seriously. i've seen her cuddle with fuckin' pinky and round cheeks too, and she's always so.. giggly! and when i think she's flirting, she says it so fuckin' casual. like it's nothing. and i must be fuckin' delusional to think that it's anything more.”

kirishima snorts. “well, ashido and uraraka are both girls. and she doesn’t cuddle me the way she cuddles you.”

katsuki freezes.

“…you think?”

“bro, she lies on top of you like you’re a mattress. more than that, she like really curls in to you. no one does that platonically. that's just not a thing.”

katsuki makes another miserable groaning sound and throws himself down into the beanbag chair like he’s been wounded. he drags his hands down his face, muffling a scream into his palms.

“i don’t know anymore,” he mutters. “she calls me ‘kats’ like it’s just a nickname but then she’ll say it in that soft fuckin' voice like it’s something else. she’s always touching me and smiling and calling me cute but she does it so casually, like it’s just her being her. i don’t know what’s real. i don’t know if i’m hallucinating. i think i’m losing my goddamn mind. like, it's the tone. she goes all 'aweee, thanks kats!' in that stupid fuckin' sing-songy tone. i hate it! fucking..!” kirishima has no idea what katsuki's trying to punch to death. the air, maybe?

after watching him flop around like a dying fish for a moment, he offered gently, “why don’t you just ask her how she feels?”

katsuki sits up. furious.

he says nothing, but kirishima can tell what he's trying to say just from his look.

“well then,” kirishima shrugs. “guess you’ll just have to keep suffering.”

and katsuki does. every time you brush your fingers over his knuckles or play with his hoodie strings or grin at him from across the room with that stupid sweet look in your eyes, he suffers. quietly. dramatically.

because he wants you to mean it so badly.

but he has no idea if you do.

masterlist

[psuejo]

❥ boynextdoor!gojo and his adorable loser!neighbor :c

you never leave your house. like, ever.

the last time he saw you even step outside was two weeks ago on saturday at 1:02pm, and that was because you had to bring in the garbage can and mail since your parents were off on vacation.

how could you live like that? you just stay cramped up in your room, surrounded by anime posters and weird figures, hunched over some silly pc playing an even sillier game. it’s an absolute mess in there, too — empty cups and bottles everywhere, dishes that really need to go into the dishwasher, an ever-growing pile of unfolded clothes.

satoru can’t let you go on like this. the last time he snuck into your room for a little gift from your hamper, he’d nearly broken his neck. your room needs to be deemed a serious health hazard!

so, like any good neighbor would, the next time your parents leave to travel somewhere, satoru offers to stay at the house with you. y’know, for double protection. he wouldn’t want anything to happen to your parents’ precious baby girl!

you, of course, were not amused. c’mon, seriously? satoru gojo, the city’s it-boy, wanting to stay in your house that’s practically a shed in comparison to his massive mansion? it’s gotta be some cruel, twisted joke — an extra rusty knife shoved into the shitshow of your life.

but, no, unluckily for you. satoru is dead serious, and he pulls out all the stops to get your worrywart parents to agree: that bright, charming smile, a hefty compensation if anything goes awry, a voucher to some snobby golf club, and even an invitation to have dinner with his family.

what aspiring business person wouldn’t want to talk to the most influential clan in japan? they wouldn’t say no even if they wanted to.

it’s a win-win — they get to schmooze and network like the power-hungry vermin they are, and satoru gets to have you, his little cutie pie, to himself for a weekend, without any interruptions.

what could possibly go wrong?

you quickly realize that it is everything.

satoru is a pest. sure, you knew that already, but somehow his need to and the success rate of agitating you had skyrocketed in the past six months that you hadn’t seen him.

he’s always touching you — sitting too close on the couch, lanky arm slung along the back of it, his big hand ruffling your already messy hair whenever he walks past, or his feet brushing yours underneath the kitchen table.

and if that wasn’t bad enough, he never. stops. talking. it’s like when he was born, his genes forgot to put a switch to turn him off, because you swear he just goes on and on and on and on about nothing.

all you want is peace and quiet for a weekend. that’s it! your parents aren’t home to pester you about transferring to in-person classes at university or about finally applying for a job. alas, he’s here to spoil your damn plans.

your frustrations eventually reach a boiling point, and you relax the best way you know how: with that tiny pink vibrator.

you just didn’t expect satoru to walk in and offer to help.

which is precisely how you’re now in his lap, trembling legs spread as satoru pumps two long, slender fingers in and out of your needy cunt. they go way deeper than yours could ever hope to, curling and scissoring right against that sweet spot that has your back arching against his chest.

his other hand is clasped around your smaller one, making sure you keep your precious vibrator right on that puffy clit. if you wanted to get off so bad, all you had to do is ask!

but you didn’t, so he had to wait ‘til he heard those poorly stifled whimpers before casually strutting in for his forgotten phone.

oopsie.

“feels good, right?” he whispers, warm breath ghosting across the shell of your ear, and you don’t even need to see his face to know he’s smiling. bastard.

you nod your head, though, too far gone in the lusty haze to bother with being snarky. that delicate coil in your gut is so close to snapping, much closer than it usually is when you do this yourself. “mmf, yeah...”

and satoru knows it.

he moves your thumb to press the up setting twice on your toy, and his cock gives a happy twitch from its confines in his boxers when you squeal, hips bucking up into the vibrator and pushing his fingers deeper.

another oopsie.

one he doesn’t regret the second your moans get louder, gooey walls fluttering around his fingers as you grind up. “ohh, fuck, ‘m g’na cum, oh my god—!”

you’re so beautiful when you cum, eyes sliding back and squirt spraying the towel beneath you and satoru’s hand as you clamp down on his fingers, entire body shuddering and twitching.

he has to think about some long-winded chemistry formula to not cream his pants right then and there.

when you finally start to get your breath back, chest heaving and face flushed with what he’s sure is both arousal and embarrassment, that’s when satoru pulls his fingers free with a loud squelch.

“aww, she misses me already,” he coos, and you don’t even get a moment to be confused before he pops his fingers into his mouth, lapping up your essence like it’s his last supper.

it’s gross, hearing those wet slurping noises behind you, but your gut tightens anyway, and you ignore the small feeling of disappointment when he takes his fingers out of his mouth.

“don’t worry, baby.” with two big hands on your waist, he shifts you off his lap and lays you down on your back. “i’ll stuff ‘er full with something bigger, how about that?”

[mahowaga]

it started innocently—really, it did.

you had no idea the chaos you were about to unleash when, that first time, you pulled your phone out at dinner to capture the gorgeous table spread.

you aren't some influencer, you don't have an aesthetic food page or anything. you just like saving the memories. you like looking back at the colors of the dishes, the way the warm lights catch the steam rising from a bowl of ramen, or the glistening sheen of freshly grilled corn. it makes you happy.

but nanami kento—who sits across from you at that table, handsome in his pressed white button-up and tie still a little too tight against his throat even though the workday has ended—mistakes your angle.

his gaze flicks up from his plate, catching you just as you are angling your phone. and for a brief moment, his face freezes.

then—composed, but stiff—he straightens his spine and fixes his tie.

you blink. "what... what are you doing?"

"you could've warned me if you were going to take a photo of me," he murmurs, eyes dropping to his food. "i must look ridiculous while eating."

the words catch you so off guard that you barely manage a confused laugh, and the words i wasn't taking a photo of you! i was taking a photo of the table, of the food don't come. instead, you stutter, "oh, well, i—"

kento nods, but his eyes don't meet yours. he simply spears a piece of potato and says, "of course."

you meant to correct him properly. you meant to explain. but watching the slight pink creep up the tips of his ears—the usually unflappable nanami kento, embarrassed at the thought of you taking his picture—you hesitate.

and then you just never said anything.

the next time it happens, it's sushi.

a fancy little place you pick because you know kento likes it—quiet, clean, no frills but top-tier quality. you're practically bouncing in your seat by the time the chef slides the first omakase platter in front of you, every piece glistening, delicate, artful.

you pull out your phone.

kento, mid-reach for his cup of tea, freezes again. just like last time.

then slowly—almost robotically—he sets the cup down, places his hands neatly on his lap, and gives you the most stilted half-smile you've ever seen.

you pause, staring at him. "kento—"

"it's alright," he says quickly. "i understand. people like documenting memories. i just. i just wasn't prepared. that's all."

you really should clear the misunderstanding right now.

but instead, a laugh bubbles out of you. "alright. then—hold still."

and you snap a photo. of him. not the food. him.

the photo is terrible—he's as stiff as a board, his jaw locked, and he looks like he's posing for a passport photo at gunpoint.

but it's cute. in the way kento always is, without ever meaning to be.

it becomes a thing after that. you don't even know how.

every time you take your phone out, kento will assume the position. stiff shoulders, straight spine, polite smile.

and every time, you can't bring yourself to tell him that no—really—you're just trying to take a photo of the food.

but by the fourth or fifth outing, something shifts.

kento starts asking, carefully neutral, "do you want me to sit differently? or is this alright?"

and that? that cracks something in you.

"no," you laugh, breathless. "you're perfect."

the words slip out before you can stop them.

kento blinks once, then twice. then he looks down quickly, ears flushing crimson. "i see."

after that, it's like he's resigned himself. if you pull your phone out, he waits. patient, polite, quietly ready.

so you start taking photos. of him. on purpose.

at the cafe, with the tiny cappuccino cup too delicate in his large hands—snap.

at the bakery, applying jam to the slice of freshly baked bread—snap.

at the park, sitting stiffly on the bench while you both have ice cream—snap.

"you're building a collection, aren't you?" kento asks one evening, watching you put your phone down with a barely-contained smile.

you start. "what?"

"photos. of me." his voice is flat, but his eyes—his eyes are soft, just the slightest glint of amusement there. "i'm assuming you have a folder by now."

you flush. "i—no—maybe."

kento lets out a low sigh, running a hand through his hair. "you could just ask, you know."

you blink. "ask?"

"if you want a picture," he says, clearing his throat. "i don't mind. but maybe then—maybe i could try not to look like a stiff idiot."

you laugh, loud and bright, and kento flinches like he's just startled a bird.

"you don't look like an idiot," you say, wiping your eyes. "you look like you. that's perfect to me."

kento stares at you for a long, quiet moment. and then—unexpected, a tiny miracle—he smiles. a real one. the kind that softens all the lines of his face, that crinkles his eyes just enough.

"that might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me," he murmurs.

you open your mouth, close it, then grin. "well, get used to it. you're stuck with me, nanami kento. my photo album's already proof."

kento gives a long-suffering sigh, but his hand—warm, steady—reaches out across the table, brushing yours.

"i suppose," he says, almost fond, "i can live with that."

seven months later, you've built a whole gallery. and when kento catches you looking through it one night—tired from work, tie loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled up—he doesn't say a word.

he just kisses the top of your head, quietly, and murmurs, "just let me know next time, hm? i want to look good for you."

and that is how your silly little secret turns into the softest thing you've ever shared with him.

[stellamarielu]

rusty

jack abbot x female reader

summary: after a dry spell in his sex life, jack would’ve never imagined the next women he’d have naked in his bed would be his favorite first year resident.

content: nsfw, 18+, mdni, resident!reader, touch starved!jack, established relationship, a little bit of fluff smushed in there, but mostly smut, jack being nervous to have sex for the first time in years, but then ofc something in him snaps and he gets a little freaky with it, jack uses the nickname kid for the reader (1) time, also uses the nickname sweetheart, fingering, handjob (if you blink you’ll miss it), p in v sex, dirty talk, condom use and the crowd boos (sorry had to keep it realistic! if i’m having sex with someone for the first time and they’re not wrapping it….questionable)

word count: 4.5k

author’s note: wanted to write something about big tough jack abbot being a little nervy to see you naked but i also wanted to write something about him having an inappropriate relationship with his resident…. so alas this was born. enjoy!

“I haven’t done this in a while.” 

The words stumble from Jack’s lips in an exasperated sigh. They nearly get lost between kisses, the confession hidden amidst the steamy exchange as your bodies barrel through his front door. 

Reaching up to thread your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, your forearms rest on his shoulders to steady yourself as he maneuvers you into his bedroom. 

You don’t reply to his admission, just smile into the kiss as your hands trail down his torso finding the hem of his shirt. Your fingertips carefully tracing his skin underneath the material. 

He wanted to tell you it had been years since he’d been with a woman like this— wanted to apologize in advance for being a bit rusty, but the light touch of your hands exploring the skin just above the waistband of his pants, had him losing his previous train of thought. 

He couldn’t think about how long it’d been since he’d brought a woman back to his place, couldn’t even think about how insanely wrong it was to be kissing you in his bedroom.

With that being said, he should be proud of himself for holding out this long.

It had been months of having you on his shift.

Week after week of watching you prance around the ER with that cute little smile on your face, following every last one of his orders. Always meeting his sarcastic remarks with witty comments of your own, the two of you working effortlessly together like there was some sort of magnetic field between you that pulled him to every case you worked on. 

It was so innocent at first, shared inside jokes and granola bars in the breakroom. Him giving you a hard time for your absurd coffee intake through the night, making comments about how the quad shot of espresso you walked in with was going to send you into cardiac arrest. 

But then, there was the time he put his hand on your lower back to squeeze behind you at the triage desk. The second his touch met the polyester of your scrubs, applying just enough pressure to seep through the thin fabric, your head turned in his direction. 

You didn’t mean to look at him, but you couldn’t help it. His fingers stayed splayed out on your back for one second too long, and your eyes shot to his, the electric current running through your body impossible to ignore. 

A sudden tension emerged in the small space between you, his stare raking down your body to where his hand sat just above your waist, taking his time trailing them back up with a knowing smirk on his lips. 

The moment was fleeting but it played out in slow motion before his hand was gone and he was breezing past you into the trauma bay.

After that it became a game of cat and mouse, both of you sensing a pull of desire toward the other but almost too afraid to do anything about it. 

For Jack, it was because you were his intern, just a first-year resident looking to him for guidance and education. His apprentice. It felt wrong to look at you in any other way. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he took advantage of the obvious power imbalance at play in the situation. 

Not to mention he was off his game. 

He had no problem coming across abundantly confident at work, but as far as dating went, Jack hadn’t waded into those waters for years. There was a part of him that gave up on his love life. Maybe that’s why he threw himself into work, to avoid the loneliness that found him in his lack of companionship. 

You could sense his apprehension.

The way he would subtly flirt with you and then walk away from the conversation like nothing happened. He was trying to avoid the guilt of getting too familiar, but it left you confused about his intentions. 

It wasn’t until one morning that you decided to rip off the band aid entirely, asking him to join you for breakfast after your shift. 

It was a simple invitation, one that could’ve been strictly friendly, but the way he smiled when you asked, looking around to see if anyone else heard, told you it was the start of something else entirely. 

And it was.

The two of you went to breakfast, talking for hours in a corner booth, over a stack of pancakes and a few slices of bacon. 

It was the first time you saw each other outside of the hospital.

Everyone else in that restaurant could recognize the two of you for what you were; happy. Finding joy in each other’s presence through constant laughs and affectionate smiles. But Jack couldn’t see it that way— couldn’t shake the conflicting feelings of guilt.

It wasn’t until you reached over him to dip your bacon in a pool of syrup on his plate that he finally relaxed. He soaked it in, sitting with you like that, because when the nagging thoughts of how inappropriate it all was began to cloud his mind, the gentle touch of your hand brushing his thigh chased them away. Your fingertips curled just above his knee as you continued telling him a story, the hold making him forget why he was even worried about saying yes to your invitation in the first place. 

That was the first time he crossed a boundary with you. Allowing himself to get lost in your voice, hidden away in some diner down the street from the hospital. But it didn’t stop there. 

The next time was when he walked you home after work, only three days after your shared breakfast date. 

He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but you parted ways outside the sliding hospital doors and he watched as you walked down the street, all by yourself.

For a split second he could imagine what his frame would look like walking next to you, and so he followed, catching up to your stride with satisfaction running through his veins at your surprised smile to see him standing at your shoulder. You lived in an apartment building a block away, he knew because you mentioned it one time, and even though his leg was killing him after such a brutal shift, he walked next to you all the way to the front door of your complex.

Your bodies lingered on the sidewalk, palpable tension bouncing between them through prolonged goodbyes. 

That was the first time your gaze fell to his lips. 

The curiously hopeful look in your eyes made his mouth go completely dry, because Surely you weren’t going to kiss him in broad daylight… right? The world spun around him while your eyes stayed fixed on the straight line of his mouth, until they fluttered back up, meeting his line of sight and smiling brightly.

“Goodnight Jack.” Your hand met his bicep, squeezing lightly as you turned to walk into the building with a small wave. 

Goodnight, even though it was nearly eight in the morning. 

It was something you said to everyone after each shift, bidding your coworkers a good stretch of sleep, knowing you all shared a fucked-up sleep schedule due to working the night shift. 

Jack found the greeting endearing. Smiling wide every time he heard the sing-song chime of your voice wishing everyone a restful day before leaving work in the morning. 

His days were hardly restful though, he never got much sleep when he went home, because you were always on his mind. 

After that day in front of your apartment building, he went out of his way to walk you home nearly every morning, if only for a few extra minutes of hearing your voice, and a small hope that you would look at his lips like that again. 

When you finally did kiss him, it was well worth the wait. 

It happened on the roof. 

An especially hard night landed you outside for some fresh air, overlooking the city as you tried your best to clear your mind. 

Jack came up to check on you. 

Avoiding him entirely, your apathetic stare stayed plastered on the lights of the city. He stood next to you in silence for a while before placing a gentle hand of reassurance on your cheek, bringing your gaze to his and searching your eyes to make sure you were okay. 

It was emotionally charged, the way you crashed your lips into his.

He held your face delicately in his hands, using his jaw to dive into the kiss, hungry and sloppy and undeniably passionate. 

More than anything he wanted to explore every inch of you— to let his hands travel your entire body, but instead his palms stayed strictly on your face, careful not to push things too far. 

In fact, weeks of suppression followed while Jack tried to respect the unknown undercurrents of your relationship. 

A few more kisses were shared, even some heated make out sessions and heavy petting in the on-call room at work, but nothing more. 

He’d be lying if he said his trepidation wasn’t slightly due to the rather lengthy sexual hiatus taking place in his life. But he could only deny his urges for so long, and this morning after breakfast, instead of walking you back to your apartment, he invited you over to his place for the first time.

An unspoken agreement hung in the air the whole way home, one laced with heavy sexual tension. 

That’s what landed you here— barely two feet past the threshold of his bedroom door with your hands dangerously close to the waistband of his pants, and Jack couldn’t dare to think straight. 

The only thoughts he could muster revolved around how much he fucking liked you. This other worldly figure standing before him, toying with the ties on his pants, fingertips brushing his abdomen and fuck- he was on another planet. Your touch was sending a vaguely familiar heat rushing through his body and he wanted more— needed it. 

Something about the situation sent him on a power trip. His cock pushing against the lose restraint of his scrubs at the sudden realization that he finally had you right where he wanted you after all this time. Months of getting to know each other and countless dates ending in polite kisses and lingering goodbyes— all of it leading to this moment with his fingertips curling into your waist. 

But there was still a little sliver of him that felt nervous, slightly unsure of venturing into unknown territory with you. 

He was still trying to convince himself that you were genuinely interested in him, because when he looked at you he saw this beautiful woman, all radiant and self-assured, on the arm of some guy nearly twice her age who rarely smiled and always had a grumpy wise-ass remark on his tongue. 

His hands went rigid at the thought, the doubts taking him out of the moment for a few seconds, and you could sense the uneasiness in his touch.

Pulling away from the kiss, you watched his expression, his lips parted to make way for fast shallow breaths as he stared back at you, his eyes hooded with desire but swimming with hesitation. 

“We don’t have to do anything Jack.” Your words were sincere as you continued looking for any sign of regret in the hazel of his eyes.

“No, I want this.” His brows furrowed as the winded confession fell from his lips. His hands grasped at your hips, holding firm while his thumbs rubbed into your sides. 

“You sure?” Voice changing slightly, you moved into a more playful state, fingers coming to the tie on his pants as you kept your eyes trained on his face. 

“We could just talk.” 

A playful whisper slid between your lips as you undid the drawstring between your fingertips.

“Or maybe watch a movie.” 

Then, your hand slid into the waistband of his underwear, only a few inches, just enough to make his breath hitch. 

He tried to cover his surprise at your touch, now dangerously close to the base of his cock. Mustering enough self-control to speak, his words come out calm and collected despite the dizzying effect of your hand down his pants.

“You’re funny, kid. You know that?” 

Kid. 

A nickname he'd been calling you since the day you were assigned to his shift.

You were just an intern; young, hungry, and passionate. Had he known you’d end up with your hands halfway down his pants in the middle of his bedroom, he might've opted for a different title of endearment.

“Seriously Jack, we can take things slow-“

A low chuckle interrupts your attempt to comfort him, trying to give him a chance to back out. 

He guides you back to sit on the edge of his bed, smirking and shaking his head from side to side.

“Stop talking.” The words are rushed. A deep rasp from his lips as he leans in to kiss you, pushing your body until your back meets his mattress.

“I don’t think you realize how long I’ve thought about this.” It was apparent that Jack was hungry— starving even— to see more of you. His hands working quickly to get your pants down your legs and onto his bedroom floor. 

“And what do you think about Jack?” He’d never heard that tone in your voice before, low and sultry while you leaned up on your elbows to look at him through your lashes.

“Jesus- I’ve thought about having you on my bed like this,” There was nothing subtle about the way his eyes scraped over your as he paused between words. Eyes drifting to your lower half, legs parted slightly, a pair of black panties acting as the only barrier between his eyes and your naked body. “all spread out for me like this.”

At his words, your legs open further, sending a muffled growl straight to Jack’s closed mouth as he lets his hand fall on your inner thigh. Trailing upwards, his fingertips come in contact with the hem of your underwear. 

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about pulling you into the on-call room after our shift.” He’s leaning above you, eyes glued to your clothed core, fingers toying with the thin material of your panties at the inside of your thighs. 

“How badly I’ve wanted to fuck you on one of those shitty beds, or maybe even against the wall…” 

“But you deserve better. To be treated right, on a real bed.” Suddenly the smooth linen of his comforter feels much warmer beneath you, your hands splaying over the pillowy fabric at your palms. 

Jack watches the way your shoulders relax, and your head falls an inch to the side at his words, your body melting into the moment of shared desire. 

“Want to take my time with you. Make you feel good. Watch you fall apart.” He leans in to kiss you, right as one of his fingertip’s dip below the fabric of your panties to run along your slit. You gasp into the kiss, and he takes the opportunity to pull away.

“To hear the little noises you make for me.” His lips are only inches from yours as his breathless whisper fills the space between them. His hand fully pushes your panties to the side, his touch light as a feather, and lingering at your core.

“Bet you sound so pretty when you cum.”

Your mouth falls open and you’re not sure what triggered it, his words, or the way he pushes a single finger into you. The movement is slow and precise as he watches your eyes flutter in pleasure. 

For someone who’s sex life was currently non-existent, Jack didn’t miss a beat when it came to the rhythm of your gratification. The moan dripping from your tongue coming right on cue as he slips another finger in with the first, stroking with purpose and dedication as his name comes floating from your lips. 

“Jack.”

The word was foggy and desperate as his touch subdued you, his fingers curling at the sweet call of his name, hooking at just the right spot. 

“Fuck that’s it.” A whine of pleasure rippled through you at the pressure of his fingers against your walls. With one stroke after another, the building tension in your abdomen threatened to overflow. 

Jack’s stare falls on his fingers as they work you open. 

He can hardly handle how responsive you are to his touch; your hips bucking into his palm, little pleas falling from your lips— It’s enough to make him cum right there in his damn pants. 

“God- you sound gorgeous.” The compliment is almost primal, his voice nearing a growl as he looks down at your body writhing on the simple motion of his fingers inside you, a slave to his touch.

He lets himself get lost in the noises flowing from your mouth, allowing each moan to act as a signal, showing him exactly where and how you want him. 

“Even better than I could’ve imagined.” He finishes his thought and brings his stare back to yours, the fucked-out expression in your eyes telling him just how close you are. 

His words send you reeling, acting as a catalyst for the strain pulling in your abdomen. 

He can feel your body preparing to tumble over the edge, walls clenching around his fingers, and thighs flexing.

“There you go sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. That’s new. 

It surprises you both the second it leaves his lips. But the surprise of it barely registers, instead the word is unleashing a flutter in your chest and a warmth between your legs. You’re obsessed with the way it sounds in the rasp of Jack’s voice. In fact, you like it so much your body trembles and whimpers fill the air as you come undone on his fingers.

His eyes watch as his movements slow, digits coated in your slick and pushing into you continuously even after your body finishes shuddering.

It’s almost sadistic the small smirk he’s wearing as his eyes stay fixated on his fingers sliding in and out of your body. 

He was starved. Starved of touch— the warmth of another’s body. The way you pulled him in with each thrust of his fingers made him want to stay there all night, making you cum over and over again to feed his craving of your body at his mercy. 

If it weren’t for your delicate hands gripping at his forearm, forcing him back to reality, he would’ve kept going, would’ve seen just how much more you could take. 

“Jack.” Your voice breaks him from his trance, hand wrapping around his arm and pulling him back to hover parallel over your body. 

An unsolicited grunt erupts from deep in his throat as your hands, once again, slide into his underwear. Only this time, they fall far enough to envelop his cock in your soft touch. 

His hand comes down forcefully next to your head, palm flat against the mattress to hold himself steady as pleasure washes over him.

You’ve only pumped over his length once and he’s already squeezing his eyes shut in focus, trying not to spill into your hand. 

“Sweetheart.”

In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have used that nickname again. Not right now, when he was seconds away from having an embarrassingly quick orgasm. 

Your grip tightened slightly at the word, hand working a little faster, and paying extra close attention to his overly sensitive tip. He has to put a hand over yours to conceal your efforts. 

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up.” His brows raise at your smug expression, your hand still stroking him despite his attempt to stop you. 

“I’m serious.” A breathless snarl meets your ear as his head falls lower, nearly resting in the crook of your neck.

You hum in response, one hand continuing its work between his legs, the other pushing at the pants still around his hips.

He was quick to oblige your unspoken request, bringing his own hand down to rid himself of his pants and underwear. His hands are then at your hips yanking your panties down your legs.

In a heated frenzy both of you took a few seconds to take off any remaining clothes. Sitting up to swiftly pull off shirts, and while you’re reaching to take off your bra, Jack stretches to his bedside table, fishing out a condom from its box that’s been sitting untouched in his drawer for far too long.

Then, you’re back to square one, his body hovering over yours, and his lips kissing down your neck.

Your hand finds him again, palm encircling his member as he freezes under your touch.

“You sure you wanna do this?” His voice is lost in the skin of your chest, his lips melting against your collarbone.

“You’re asking me? I thought you were the one who needed convincing.” The giggle in your voice has Jack nipping playfully at your skin, his hand confidently fitting between your legs.

“What can I say, you’ve persuaded me.” A teasing tone slips through his lust clouded whisper, fingers collecting the slick at your core with a groan on his tongue.

You grab the condom out of his hand, tearing it open and rolling it onto him with ease, the feeling causing him to lean further into your touch. 

This was one of the reasons Jack was so drawn to you.

You held such discreet authority. Always taking charge with a charming smile and a sweet command in your voice.

He couldn’t have imagined the same power he witnessed at work would roll over into the bedroom. Your captivating ability to take quiet control was suddenly so obvious in the way you were guiding his now protected length to line up with your entrance, body shimmying down the bed to coerce him into you. 

When the head of his cock finally pushes into you, you both let out noises of relief.

The placated gasp from your lips, and the profound groan on his, proves that you’d both been longing for this exact moment for weeks.

He takes his time. Learning the hug of your body. Savoring every inch of pure bliss, as he fills you at a painstaking pace. Your hands shoot to his back, fingertips digging into the broad expanse of his shoulder blades, just enough to encourage his movement until he enters you completely, pushed in to the hilt.

His eyes stay on yours, watching the way your lids almost close while you adjust to him, your mouth parted slightly at the stretch.

Then he’s pulling out and thrusting back in, moaning at the way you feel wrapped around him.

Your head tilts back into his comforter at the sweet friction of his strokes, and the sight beneath him has another moan bubbling up Jack’s throat. 

It was exactly how he’d dreamt this moment— your back on his bed, with your head thrown back in pleasure. Getting to watch your body respond to him his perch above you, your naked figure far more beautiful than anything he could’ve imagined. It was all so perfect. You were perfect. 

He picked up the pace of his thrusts, not too fast, but perfectly timed with the squeeze of your fingers on his back. He knew he must be hitting something right in the way you were gripping his shoulders and crying out for him. Crying out for him. Your voice was strained and winded as his name fell from your lips in a chant. 

His self-control must’ve been at an all-time high, because he closed his eyes for a moment, gaining his bearings and talking himself down from cumming at the sounds of your whines.

He collects whatever composure is left in his body and brings a hand down between the two of you, fingertips finding that sensitive spot just above where his cock is driving into you.

He rubs steady circles into your clit, and judging by the way his name jumps from you an octave higher than before, he knows he’ll get to watch you cum again. 

He makes it his goal. Setting his thrusts at a fixed pace, as his fingers deliberately stroke your bundle of nerves. He focuses completely on your pleasure to distract himself from the pulsing pressure running through his veins.

He needs to see you let go for him one more time before he can finish. An easy task given the way your back is arching off his bed, sending your hips further into him. 

“I’m gonna-“ The words are hardly coherent as they slip between your gasps and moans— wanting to tell him you’re close but unable to string more than two words together.

“Come on sweetheart.” His words were directed straight to your core, eyes back down and watching between your bodies as he slides into you. His mind growing hazy at the sight of you taking his cock so well. 

His encouragement was all you needed to let go. Your release washing over you in waves of bliss.

Jack’s eyes make the journey back to your face, watching in awe at your expression as it takes on a state of utter relief, your head falling even deeper into the blanket underneath you.

That image is what finally makes him succumb to the persistent chase of his release.

He’s groaning and panting, one of his hands coming to grip your hips, the other balancing himself on the mattress, pressed flat on the space next to your face.

He’s grunting profanities as he spills through his orgasm, allowing his elbow to bend so he can rest his forehead against yours. Both of you breathing heavy, eyes meeting in a moment of vulnerability and understanding as you bring a hand up to lace through his hair. Almost petting his grey curls, you lazily smile through the puffs of breath on your lips.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over seeing you like this, an angel laid out on his bedspread— just for him. Giving you both a moment to recover, he stays like that for a minute. He’s leaning into you, listening to your soft breaths even out, and he can feel himself getting hard again. His dick is still throbbing, not even fully soft and he’s already ready for another round.

His cock getting hard again, that fast after sex, was something he hadn’t experienced in over a decade.

These days Jack needed plenty of time between orgasms to even think about getting another erection, but in this moment, still buried in you and hearing the tiny gasps of breath coming from your heaving chest, he wanted more. He could feel his addiction to you growing stronger, reminding him of the forbidden nature of your budding relationship.

“What are we getting ourselves into.” Speaking his thoughts aloud, his voice fills the room, a grin lingering in his lips.

He can’t help but smile as he imagines what the future holds for your relationship, his forehead still pressed gently against yours. 

my masterlist

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

꒰ঌ ໒꒱. ） WHAT ARE YA LOOKN’ AT ?

－ℱ）paring : anaxa, phainon, aventurine, aglaea, mydei x f!reader

－ℱ）warnings : nsfw/smut, creampie, scissoring with aglaea, c*mplay, man handling, size kink, nipple play, boob obsession, hair pulling, chocking, biting and dumbification in aglaea’s part!

－ℱ）synopsis : they keep staring at your tits? (mdni)

－ℱ）note : not proof read!! header is a doujinshi and you can find it on X from : sakuranotomoru !!

( 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐗𝐀 )

You noticed it again.

The way Anaxagoras kept staring. His gaze, sharp and unashamed, lingered far too long on your chest—tracking every small movement, every shift of fabric that strained against your curves. He wasn’t even trying to be discreet.

You finally snapped. "Why do you keep staring at my chest?"

He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. Instead, a slow, knowing smirk curled his lips. "Because you make it impossible not to."

You huffed, crossing your arms—a mistake. The motion only pushed your tits together, and his gaze flickered lower, dark with amusement.

"Anaxa," you warned, but before you could say anything else, he moved.

He was fast, deceptively strong despite his slender frame. His long fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward until you were flush against him. The heat of his body was unmistakable, his breath fanning over your ear as he whispered, "You expect me to resist something so tempting?"

His hands found your tits, cupping them through your clothes, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You gasped, shivering under his touch.

"You do this without even realizing," he murmured, voice thick with hunger. "Walking around, teasing me… and now you're acting so innocent?"

Your protest died on your tongue when he pushed you back against the nearest surface. His lean frame pressed against yours, long fingers tracing down your waist before yanking your clothes aside.

"Let me show you exactly what you’ve been doing to me."

Before you could respond, he spread your thighs, his fingers teasing at your soaked cunt. He chuckled, soft and mocking. "Already so wet," he mused. "Was it the way I looked at you? Or were you hoping I’d do this all along?"

You whined, barely able to process anything before he lined himself up—his cock hard, thick, pressing against your entrance.

"You can take it," he murmured.

Then he thrust in, deep and unforgiving, stretching you open with a force that made your back arch.

You never should’ve asked.

A sharp gasp left your lips as Anaxa buried himself to the hilt, stretching your pussy wide with a single deep thrust. His cock was thick despite his slender frame, filling you in a way that made your body tremble.

"Fuck—so tight," he groaned, voice smooth but edged with hunger. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you still as he pulled back just enough to slam into you again.

Your back arched against the cold surface beneath you, your nails clawing at his sleeves. He barely seemed fazed, eyes locked onto your tits as they bounced with each harsh thrust.

"Look at you," he murmured, breathless but still smug. "Taking my cock so well, yet you had the nerve to question why I was staring?"

You tried to form a response, but all that came out was a choked moan when his hand slid up to your throat. His fingers wrapped around it, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch, to remind you of how easily he controlled you.

"That’s it," he whispered, tilting his head. "Let me hear you struggle to speak."

His free hand cupped your tits again, slender fingers rolling your nipples between them, tugging and pinching until you whined. The sharp pleasure mixed with the tight grip on your throat sent waves of heat pooling between your legs.

"Your pussy’s clenching so tight around me," he noted with a breathy chuckle. "Do you like being handled like this? Having me choke you while I fuck you dumb?"

A desperate whimper escaped you as he thrust even harder, cock dragging against your walls in a way that had your body tensing, aching for release. He wasn’t gentle. Every movement was calculated—deep, rough, unrelenting.

His thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. "Come on," he coaxed, voice dropping lower, silkier. "Be a good girl and come for me."

His fingers tightened slightly around your throat, cutting off just enough air to send you spiraling. Your vision blurred, pleasure crashing through you as your pussy clenched around him, spasming with the force of your orgasm.

Anaxagoras groaned, hips stuttering as he chased his own release. His grip on your throat loosened just enough for you to gulp in a breath before he slammed into you one last time, spilling deep inside with a sharp, shuddering moan.

For a moment, all you could hear was your ragged breathing, the aftershocks of pleasure still making your body tremble.

Then, his lips brushed over your ear, and in that same smooth, teasing voice, he murmured, "Still wondering why I was staring?"

( 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐍 )

You could feel his gaze before you even looked up. It wasn’t the kind of glance someone tried to hide—Phainon wasn’t subtle like that. No, he was outright staring, heavy-lidded eyes locked onto your chest with a lazy smirk pulling at his lips.

"You're doing it again," you muttered, shifting under his attention.

"Am I?" His voice was all amusement, but his golden eyes didn’t waver. "Can you really blame me when you're presenting such a perfect view?"

Before you could huff out a response, his fingers were already on you, tracing the curve of your breasts through your clothes. He wasn’t hurried—he never was. Phainon enjoyed taking his time, savoring the way you shivered at his touch, the way your breath hitched when his thumb ghosted over your nipple, teasing it through the fabric.

"You make it too easy for me," he mused, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers. "So responsive already. I haven't even gotten you bare yet, and you're already squirming."

Your hands gripped his forearms, unsure if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. "Phainon—"

"Shhh, let me enjoy myself," he purred, his other hand sliding under your top, fingers warm as they brushed against bare skin. "You have no idea how much I think about these." He gave a slow, appreciative squeeze, his smirk widening as you gasped. "Soft, perfect—exactly how they should be."

You whined, heat flooding you as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, pinching just enough to make your thighs press together. He noticed, of course. He always did.

"That desperate already?" He chuckled, letting his other hand drift lower, tracing the waistband of your clothes. "I barely touched you, and you're getting wet. You must love this even more than I do."

His knee nudged between your legs, spreading them apart before pressing up just enough to make you feel the friction. "I bet I could make you come just from playing with these pretty tits," he murmured, pinching just a little harder, loving the way you shuddered. "Should I prove it?"

His cocky smirk told you he already knew the answer.

Your breath hitched as Phainon’s fingers rolled your nipple again, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every little reaction. His knee between your legs pressed up, adding just the right amount of friction to make you squirm.

"You’re so sensitive," he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "I wonder—if I sucked on them, would you moan for me? Or would you try to keep quiet, knowing how much I’d tease you for it?"

You barely had time to process before he tugged your top down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He made a satisfied sound deep in his throat, blue eyes darkening as he took in the sight.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmured, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. "You were made to be touched like this, weren’t you?"

You gasped when his mouth replaced his fingers, hot and wet as he sucked one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue flicked over the peak before he bit down just enough to make your hips jerk against his thigh. He chuckled against your skin.

"See?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to breathe against the damp skin. "I could spend all night here, playing with you, tasting you, making you beg." His fingers tweaked your other nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingertips. "And judging by how soaked you already are, I wouldn’t even have to touch your pretty pussy to get you off."

Your hands clenched in his clothes, your body burning under his attention. He was relentless, sucking and teasing until the heat between your legs grew unbearable.

"Ah, but I’d be cruel if I didn’t reward you for looking so fucking pretty like this." His hand finally dipped lower, slipping beneath your waistband. The moment his fingers found your soaked cunt, he groaned.

"Fuck. You're dripping," he murmured, rubbing slow circles around your clit before dragging his fingers through your folds. "So wet, just from me playing with your tits. Maybe I really should make you come like this—without even touching your needy little pussy properly."

He pressed two fingers inside you anyway, stretching you open as his mouth returned to your nipple, sucking greedily. His free hand teased your other breast, fingers tugging and rolling the stiff peak as he set a slow, devastating rhythm inside you.

"Come for me like this," he murmured against your skin. "Come while I’m sucking on your tits, and then I’ll give you my cock, since I know that’s what you’re really craving."

Smug bastard. But with the way he was touching you, you wouldn’t last much longer to argue.

( 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 )

Aventurine’s purple eyes had been on your chest for the last five minutes, and he wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it. Lounging back, one arm draped lazily over the couch, he smirked as his gaze flicked between your face and the swell of your tits.

"You always this much of a tease, or is today special?" he mused, tilting his head.

You huffed, crossing your arms—not that it helped. If anything, it only pressed your tits together, and judging by the way his smirk deepened, he knew exactly what you were trying to hide.

"Mm, cute," he murmured, reaching out. He didn’t ask for permission—Aventurine never did. His fingers traced along the curve of your breast, slow, deliberate, like he was mapping out a winning play.

"Fuck, you’re soft," he murmured, squeezing lightly before his thumb brushed over your nipple. Even through your clothes, the touch sent a shiver down your spine. He grinned. "Sensitive too. No wonder you were trying to cover up."

Before you could retort, he tugged your top down, exposing you to the cool air. He exhaled sharply, eyes dark with something deeper than amusement.

"Now that’s a jackpot."

His mouth was on you before you could think to protest, hot and greedy as he sucked a nipple between his lips. His tongue flicked over the stiff peak before he bit down, just enough to make you gasp.

"Yeah," he murmured against your skin, voice low and smug. "I knew you’d like that."

His other hand palmed your other breast, fingers rolling and teasing until your back arched. He played with you like he had all the time in the world, like this was some high-stakes game he was guaranteed to win.

When his hand dipped between your legs, his grin turned downright wicked. "Already soaked?" His fingers traced over your clit, teasing but not quite giving you what you needed. "And I haven’t even given you my cock yet."

He pressed two fingers inside you, slow but firm, stretching you open as he sucked harder at your nipple. Your fingers twisted in his hair, your body burning under his touch.

"Bet I could make you come just like this," he murmured, thrusting his fingers deeper. "Tits in my mouth, my fingers stretching you open—yeah, you’d look real pretty falling apart for me."

And with the way he worked you over, teasing and relentless, you knew he was right.

Your breath hitched as Aventurine sucked another deep bruise into the soft flesh of your breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple in slow, teasing circles. His fingers inside you curled just right, dragging against that spot that made your thighs tremble.

"You're not even trying to hold back," he mused, pulling away just enough to watch your expression. His fingers didn’t stop, fucking into you slow and deep. "Cute. Thought you’d put up more of a fight."

"Shut up," you gasped, hips rocking into his hand, desperate for more.

Aventurine chuckled, his free hand pinching your other nipple, rolling it between his fingers. "Oh? Didn’t sound very convincing." He tugged a little harder, making your breath stutter. "Maybe you should beg properly if you want me to give you what you need."

Your pride warred with your desperation, but the way he was playing with you, teasing every sensitive part of you with practiced ease, made it impossible to stay quiet. "Aventurine—please."

"Please what?" His fingers pulled from your pussy, dragging your slick over your clit before retreating entirely. "C’mon, sweetheart. I know you can say it."

You whined, frustration curling in your gut as he went back to palming your tits, rubbing your saliva-slick nipples between his fingers but giving you nothing where you needed it most.

"I want your cock," you finally admitted, breathless.

His smirk widened. "Now that’s what I like to hear."

He sat back, undoing his belt with an easy flick of his wrist. The moment his cock sprang free, thick and flushed, your mouth went dry.

Aventurine caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up so you had to meet his gaze. "You gonna be good for me?" His cock nudged against your slick folds, not pushing in yet, just teasing. "Or do I have to work you up even more?"

You shuddered, already feeling dizzy from how much he’d teased you. "I’ll be good—just fuck me already."

"Mm, good answer." His hands found your hips, fingers digging in as he finally thrust inside, stretching you open with one slow, deliberate stroke.

Aventurine groaned, his head tipping back briefly before his gaze locked onto your tits again, watching how they bounced with each roll of his hips. "Yeah," he muttered, thumbing one of your nipples. "This is exactly where you belong."

( 𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐄𝐀 )

Aglaea’s touch was always deliberate. Never rushed, never careless—just the perfect balance of control and indulgence. Right now, that control was turned entirely on you, her cool fingers dragging over your bare chest, pausing to roll your stiff nipples between her fingers with calculated precision.

"You look so pliant like this," she mused, voice smooth as ever. "I wonder—were you always this weak to being touched, or am I simply that skilled?"

You whimpered, unable to form a coherent response. Your head felt hazy, warmth pooling in your belly as she continued to toy with your tits, alternating between firm pinches and slow, teasing circles.

"Already slipping, are you?" Aglaea’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk, her gold eyes sharp with amusement. "And here I thought you had more to offer."

Her words should’ve embarrassed you, but the way she kept playing with you—never giving you enough to satisfy, only enough to make you crave more—had your mind melting too quickly to care.

"Speak," she commanded, fingers twisting just right, making your back arch. "Tell me how it feels."

Your breath hitched. "S’good—"

Aglaea tsked, shaking her head. "Articulate."

You tried again, but with the way her thumbs were brushing over your swollen nipples, your tongue felt heavy. Your thighs rubbed together, desperate for more friction, but she only chuckled.

"Mm. Thought so." She dipped a hand between your legs, pressing her fingers against your dripping cunt. "You're soaking. And all I’ve done is play with your tits."

Your hips jerked, but she didn’t move, keeping you right on the edge.

"How predictable," she murmured, finally sliding two fingers inside, slow and deep. "So easily reduced to this. A soft little thing, eager to be filled but barely capable of forming a sentence."

Her other hand never left your chest, teasing and rolling your nipple in tandem with every thrust of her fingers. Your mind fogged up further, thoughts slipping away with every precise movement.

"You’re taking me so well," she mused, voice low and sweet. "But I think we can empty that little head of yours even more, hm?"

And with the way she was working you over, it was only a matter of time before you gave in completely.

Aglaea watched you with that same calm amusement, her fingers still buried deep inside you, teasing, stretching, keeping you just on the edge. Every slow thrust was deliberate, her other hand never ceasing its attention on your chest, pinching and rolling your nipples like she had all the time in the world to ruin you.

"You're already struggling to keep up," she mused, tilting her head. "I wonder—how much more can you handle before your mind turns completely to mush?"

You whined, hips bucking against her fingers, desperate for more. Words were hard to string together, your body pliant and open under her touch.

"Mm. Perhaps we should push a little further." She withdrew her fingers, ignoring your pathetic whimper at the loss, and instead, shifted herself closer, positioning her body against yours.

Before you could even register what she was doing, you felt the smooth press of her soaked cunt against yours. Your breath stuttered as she hooked her leg over your hip, rolling her hips forward, making sure you felt everything.

"Look at you," she murmured, her golden eyes dark with something deeper than amusement. "So dumb and needy, just from a little playing. And now you get to grind against me properly—if you can even keep up."

You gasped as she moved, the slick heat of her cunt rubbing against yours in slow, languid strokes. Every grind sent sparks up your spine, the sensation of her wet folds pressing into yours too much and not enough at the same time.

"You feel that?" Aglaea purred, her fingers returning to your breasts, playing with your swollen nipples in time with her movements. "Every little shift, every drag of my clit against yours—ah, you’re shaking already."

Your thighs trembled as you tried to match her rhythm, but your body was too wrecked, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of her taking her time with you, dragging you closer to the edge at her pace.

"Mm, poor thing," she sighed, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Already too fucked out to do anything but take it? That's fine. You don't need to think—just let me use you to get myself off."

Her pace quickened slightly, the wet slide of your cunts rubbing together filling the space between you. Every shift sent more pleasure flooding through you, your brain completely melting under her touch, her voice, the way she played with your body like it belonged to her.

"Go on," she murmured, her lips grazing your jaw as she pinched your nipple hard enough to make your breath catch. "Cum for me, like the dumb little thing you are."

With the way she was grinding against you, the stimulation to your clit, the way her hands and words completely unraveled you—you had no choice but to obey.

Aglaea’s smirk deepened as your body tensed, thighs trembling, a broken moan slipping from your lips as the pleasure crested. The wet friction between you grew even slicker as you came hard, your walls clenching around nothing, back arching into her touch.

"That’s it," she murmured, rolling her hips through your orgasm, not slowing down in the slightest. "Just like that. So easy to unravel, aren’t you?"

Your breath came in short gasps, your body still shuddering in the aftermath, but Aglaea wasn’t done with you. Before you could fully register it, her fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat.

"You’re not done yet," she chided, her voice still smooth, still composed—but there was an edge now, something sharp and possessive beneath her usual amusement. "Did I say you could stop?"

Your whimper was cut off as she leaned in, lips dragging along the sensitive skin of your throat before her teeth sank in, biting down hard enough to make you cry out. The mix of pain and pleasure shot straight to your core, and your hips jerked, grinding up into her as she bit deeper, claiming you in a way that made your head spin.

"Mm, such pretty sounds," Aglaea mused, licking over the fresh mark she’d left before her teeth found your shoulder next, sinking in just as deep. "You take everything so well, don’t you? All it takes is a little tug on your hair, a little bite, and you’re already falling apart again."

She pulled your head back further, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes were half-lidded, hungry, her lips swollen from the marks she was leaving on your skin.

"You’re going to give me another one," she purred, her hand trailing back down to your chest, fingers pinching and rolling your overstimulated nipples, making your breath stutter. "You’re going to cum again, right here, rubbing that dumb little pussy against mine."

Her pace quickened, her own breaths coming heavier now as her clit dragged against yours, the wet slide between you turning downright obscene. Her grip in your hair tightened as she leaned in, biting down on your lower lip this time, sucking it into her mouth before pulling away just enough to murmur—

"Be good for me and cum again, or I’ll keep going until you can’t think at all."

With the way she was using you, the way she played with your body like it was hers to control, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

( 𝐌𝐘𝐃𝐄𝐈 )

Mydei’s eyes had been on your chest for a while now. He wasn’t even pretending to be subtle about it, his golden gaze flicking down every time you shifted, every time your top dipped just a little too low.

"You’re not very discreet," you teased, folding your arms beneath your tits, knowing exactly what that would do.

His smirk was slow, calculated. "Why would I be? You’ve been parading them in front of me all night."

Before you could snap back, he was already moving. One step closer, his gloved hand reaching out, fingers tracing the curve of your breast over your clothes. A deliberate touch, slow and indulgent. His thumb brushed over your nipple, and even through the fabric, the sensation sent a shiver up your spine.

"See?" he murmured, tilting his head. "You react so easily. Did you want my attention this badly?"

You swallowed hard, heat curling low in your stomach as he palmed your breast fully, fingers squeezing just enough to make you bite back a sound. He leaned in, breath warm against your ear.

"Go on," he purred, lips ghosting over your jaw. "Ask me properly."

Your pride kept your mouth shut for all of two seconds before his fingers pinched your nipple through your top, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Mydei—"

"Mm. That’s not quite begging, but I’ll allow it."

He wasted no time tugging your top down, exposing you fully to his gaze. His pupils dilated, golden eyes dark with something deeper than amusement. His mouth was on you in an instant, tongue flicking over your nipple before his lips sealed around it, sucking hard.

Your back arched as he lavished attention on you, his other hand kneading your other breast, fingers rolling the sensitive bud between his fingertips. He groaned against your skin, like he was savoring the taste of you.

"Perfect," he muttered, pulling back just enough to admire the way your nipple was slick with his saliva. "And already so worked up."

His hand drifted lower, fingers slipping past your waistband, finding your soaked cunt with ease. He hummed, amused. "So wet, and I’ve barely even touched you here. Seems like your tits really are your weak spot."

His fingers pushed inside you, stretching you open, fucking into you slow and deep. You barely had time to adjust before his other hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"Let’s see how dumb you can get for me," he murmured, tightening his grip as his fingers sped up, working you open until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled his cock free, hard and leaking against your thigh, you didn’t even have the chance to beg—he was already lining himself up, the thick head pressing against your entrance.

"Take it," he ordered, his voice smooth but firm as he sank into you, stretching you inch by inch. His fingers flexed around your throat, his other hand pinching your nipple hard as he bottomed out.

A guttural groan rumbled from his chest. "Fuck. Look at you, stuffed full of my cock." His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make your walls flutter around him. "So good, so tight—like you were made for this."

He set a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours, his hands never straying—one wrapped firmly around your throat, the other still teasing your breasts, fingers rolling and pinching, making sure you felt everything.

"You’re going to cum for me," he murmured, voice low and commanding. "And when you do, I’m going to fill you up—leave you dripping with my cum, just to see how pretty you look all messy for me."

With the way he was fucking you, his cock hitting deep, his hands keeping you right where he wanted, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. And neither would he.

Mydei’s golden eyes were sharp, watching the way your body reacted to his every move. His hand never left your throat, keeping you at just the right edge of breathless, as though he was savoring the control, the power he had over you.

"You look so small under me," he murmured, his voice smooth, but the satisfaction in it was unmistakable. "Like you were made to be filled."

You couldn’t help the way your body trembled under his touch, his words stirring something deep within you. The way he seemed to relish in the way your body barely fit him, the way his cock stretched you more than you thought you could handle, had your mind spinning.

"Can’t even take it all, can you?" he teased, his fingers tightening just slightly around your throat, his other hand gliding over your chest, gently pressing against your tits. "How cute. You’re barely able to take the size of me, aren’t you?"

You moaned, half-dazed, as he fucked into you with slow precision, every inch of his cock filling you, making you feel stretched beyond what you thought was possible. It was so much, too much, and yet it felt perfect.

Your thoughts grew more hazy, every thrust making your head swim, your body instinctively arching back into his. The sensation of him inside you, of him keeping you right on the edge, made it so hard to focus.

"Such a dumb little thing," Mydei murmured, his voice low and rough as he leaned down to bite your neck, marking you, claiming you. "Don’t even know what to do, do you? Just here to be fucked by me, to take all of me and fall apart for me."

You could only nod, body completely at his mercy. Words were slipping away, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of him. The way his cock filled you, the way he teased your body, leaving you weak and unable to think properly.

"You’re mine now," he whispered in your ear, his voice dark with something possessive. "Just a little thing for me to fuck, for me to use until you’re so dumb you can’t even remember your own name."

You couldn’t deny it. His size, his dominance, the way he made you feel so small, so completely under his control—it was all consuming. You were already losing yourself in him, and part of you didn’t care to fight it.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!