#* ⠀⠀ ❀ ⠀⠀ ꒰ ⠀⠀ partner ↝ black. ⠀⠀ ꒱

[reine-du-sourire]

Edward Midford

(What about Elizabeth, you ask. No. Elizabeth is the wife of the guard dog. This is a subtle but important difference.)

Genre of character: submissive like a guard dog is submissive

[thecoochiefairy]

pistachios. toji + onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 12.9K word count. blackfemoriginal!reader, crossover!fic, best friends!tojixonyankopon, contractors!tojixonyankopon, husband!tojifushiguro, countryboycoded!toji, contractor!toji, grumpy!toji, sweet!toji, dominant!toji, countryboycoded!onyankopon, contractor!onyankopon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon, dominant!onyankapon, threesome, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough sex, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, choking, squirting, praising, LOTS of dirty talk/aggressive dirty talk, size kink, condomless sex, creaming, slapping ass/face, kissing, just a fine ass black + japanese man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ hi, it’s your favorite pisces’ favorite pisces—teehee. hope you missed me. anyways, just gonna’ say right now this isn’t a nascar fic, i trashed the idea and just came up w/ something more—me, i guess? i think i like this one. i felt a lil’ rusty, so idk what nasty factor it might hit. but both my men in the same universe? oh yeah. oh yeah. anyways, i will also say the link/visuals are unfortunately not black links in specific, but it does a good job of conceptualizing what i envisioned in my mind. and if you’re nasty, you’re fully aware of who owen grey + small hands are ;) LMAO. aight, i kept thinking of deeper by PARTYNEXTDOOR, so you can put that on a loop if you’d like. enjoy. love you.

visual.

HOW DID YOU END UP HERE? 

You kept asking yourself that question as your puffy lips poked in a pout, round eyes flickering in between the looming frames above you. Your freckled cheeks flushed as they glared in return of your angelic face—and then, impurely so, you crawled to them.  

You couldn’t have been that naive. Not to realize their plan, or how long they’d been onto you. But none of this was your plan at all. It just—happened. 

You’d been married to Toji for four years now, falling in love the moment he approached you in the streets of Tokyo, Japan. You were studying abroad in grad school, telling him that you’d been working on your masters degree within Administration, to which he replied that he shared a business with his partner—a contractor, he was. 

You would never forget that initial interaction. The onyx of his hair tousled in a flawless way, matching the natural frown of his full eyebrows each time he watched you speak. 

He allowed you to ramble off with low hums of ’Mmm’, even with it being the first conversation between the two of you. And to be honest, it made you nervous. From the warm ivory of his complexion that was coated with tattoos, being so many that they traveled beneath the white tee he wore, to his frame that was tall, lean, and built—the cadence of his deep voice, a gruffness to his tone as a cigarette sunk between the side of his full lips—He was like no other. 

But you feigned an innocence he couldn’t pull from. The deep ginger curls draping around your freckled cheeks flushed as he spoke to you, round eyes beaming from beneath your lashes—you wore a cherry blossom within your tresses, pale pink mini dress clad around your curvy figure as you held textbooks beneath your arms. Your giggles, your smile, all those things made you like no other even more so. 

He wanted you. 

You both resided in New Orleans as his business was the most successful there, receiving a multitude of clients after Hurricane Katrina hit the city years before. Behind that scary demeanor was a man with wholehearted compassion—He helped others create their new homes after losing their old ones, becoming known as the most popular contractor along the West Bank. But of course, he had a little help along the way. 

He offered you a job as his business’ consultant manager, able to give feedback on their personal brand as contractors, as well as answering emails and phone calls—but here’s where the issue began. 

Onyankopon.

The first time meeting him was entirely friendly, even when his looks might’ve had your stomach do a flip. To the heavy New Orleans twang that slipped between a few creole words as he spoke to you, to the strength of his hand when he shook yours. The sepia of his smooth skin complexion shined in cocoa butter, strident jaw clenching as he shook the small frame of your palm.

You’ little as hell, you remember him telling you. 

He was an extreme contrast to Toji—open faced grills within his mouth, teeth straight and white each time he smiled or laughed. His lips were a deep pink, full, kissabl—

Teeth. His teeth were nice.

Your eyes ran across the neatly braided cornrows, broad frame covered in tattoos that moved when he flexed his muscles. In that moment, he’d lifted his shirt to wipe the moisture of sweat from his forehead, goatee wafting a shea butter scent from the follicles—but you couldn’t even finish reading his body over, as your eyes fell right at the sculpt of his abs, Bible scriptures thumping across the flesh as he grunted from the heat of outside. And like an idiot, your reply was—

You have big hands. 

Yeah, you were fucked. 

Well, at first you weren’t. Onyankopon had been the best man in your wedding, constantly coming over to the house, even dozing off on the sofa as you laid a blanket over him. You and him had a good enough rapport with Toji being the common denominator—so the question was, why did you have the inkling to fuck him? 

This wasn’t cheating, right? 

Regardless of Toji and Onyankopon growing up together, they were extremely different—Toji was more aggressive, outspoken, able to soften his hard corners the minute he was with you. On the other hand, Onyankopon was sweet, observant, quiet, and stoic—he was the action, while Toji was the mouth piece. 

So back to the point—this definitely wasn’t cheating, right? 

Okay, but you loved your husband. He was there for you throughout all your highs and lows—He was patient, affectionate, hard-working, all the things you wanted within a man. He was the only man you’d ever been with—sexually, romantically—so you couldn’t understand why your brain was thinking about how big Onyankopon’s hands were—

Anyway, this was your husband’s fault. You couldn’t blame him for loving Onyankopon like a brother, but you could blame him for bringing him around more than he should have. He was like a villain to your origin story. Working out with the both of you at the gym, going out with you late at night, hanging around you just as much as your husband did. To make things worse? He was so. Damn. Nice. Opening the door for you, taking your hand as you needed to walk up the stairs, always asking how you felt throughout the day when your husband wasn’t able to do so. 

It’s not that you wanted him, per se. It was the mixture of both your husband and him within the same room, deep voices talking shit to one another, laughing, eyeing you as you walked past, made dinner, giggled shyly when they both called for your attention—you weren’t trying to make it obvious that he made you a little fuzzy, but the narrow of your husband's eyes might’ve said otherwise. 

Now? You were fucked. 

Here you were now, sitting along your miniature desk as you did emails during the business’ new project. Both men were working on a house within Uptown, a two story home where the family wanted an all white kitchen. You were in between phone calls and looking over shop drawings to make sure the infrastructure was to the family’s desires, claw clip within your curls as they draped in between your fingers, sighing as the paper work had you a bit tired. 

Your eyes wandered over to your husband standing on the opposite side of the room, ear leaning into the screen of his phone as he tugged construction gloves from his large palms—Onyankopon on the opposite side of him, plummeting his hammer into the wall above. You watched both men for a brief moment, as they both wore forest green long sleeves, tugging to the muscular frame of their shoulders and abdomen. 

When you heard the click of Toji’s lighter, your eyes rolled.

“Please don’t smoke in someone else’s house, Fushiguro.”

Of course, that natural frown appeared seconds later. Your husband’s eyebrows lowered, wrist knocking down as he shook off the ash collecting at the tip of his cigar. 

“‘Bout to go outside” he grunts to you, “The wife said she wants white oak instead of maple for the counter.” 

Onyankopon hadn’t turned towards either of you, but he did stop his hammering, a low breath huffing from his lips as he grunted in return, “Why she ain’t say that shit earlier? I’m finna’ get started on the window.” 

Toji releases a puff of smoke, “Husband said he’ll pay double.”

“That don’t’ make it any less work.”

Your husband’s grey eyes peered over his slightly irritated friend, a glint within them as he leaned forward, blowing smoke towards Onyankopon.

He now fully turned from where he stood, brown eyes stabbing every inch of Toji’s body—his low voice warns, “Chill out, nigga. You see I’m tryna’ figure out what I need to do.” 

Both men always had an interesting dynamic—one could be playful, while the other couldn’t be at all. It was always easy for Toji to rile up Onyankopon. 

“You’re mad ‘cause more money ‘bout to go in your pocket?” Toji raises an eyebrow, “Quit whinin’.”

Onyankopop turns to face the wall, hand holding onto the hammer, “Ain’t nobody whinin’. Stop talkin’ to me.” 

Toji glances back at you from the other side of the room, a wink being sent in your direction.

You roll your eyes at the both of them, “And where does she think we’re gonna find White Oak at nearly six in the afternoon?”

“She’s tryna’ change everything to white oak,” Toji clarified, “Countertops to white granite, cabinets to off white.”

That’s when Onyankopon tosses the hammer beside his boot. He crosses his arms to lean his back along the wall, face hard from this conversation. 

“She might as well do a whole new renovation,” he mutters. 

“You’ the only one complaining.”

“Don’t mean I ain’t right,” Onyankopon counters, “Shit don’t’ make sense. We got three more days before the contract is up, and now she on some’ HGTV bullshit.”

“‘Can’t complain if that’s what they want.” 

Onyankopon turns towards you. 

“How’ you feelin’ about this?”

You blink at the question, not wanting to be in the middle of one of their usual disputes. You tug a ginger curl behind your ear, scrunching your nose to adjust the tip of your glasses. 

Your voice is soft, “Onyankopon’s right, baby. I think it’s a little late for changes in renovations when you’re already halfway done with the kitchen.”

You see your husband's jaw tighten at your confirmation, his back straightening as he glances between the two of you. Even if he didn’t agree, he had to understand his partner's point of view. 

“I hear both of you,” Toji glances at Onyankopon, “What you wanna’ tell them?” 

“Finish the current cabinet set up, make the kitchen white, and she can set another appointment if she wanna add other shit.”

You glance down to the paper beneath you, pen flicking beneath your fingers, “We still need more maple—think you can make it to Home Depot before they close?”

Toji gives a nod of approval, stomping on the butt of the cigar he was trying to finish, “I got it. Gonna’ head that way.” 

Onyankopon's eyebrows raise in surprise, “You goin’ by yo’self?”

“Why? You gonna’ kiss and make up with me now?”

Onyankopons’ eyes narrow, “Ain’t nobody kissin’ yo’ overgrown ass, nigga.” 

“You sound like a damn teenager.” 

“‘Cause I’m arguin’ with one.”

“Can you tell me you love me and stop arguing, please?” you tilt your head, “Come gimme’ some love.” 

The smallest smile might’ve found Toji’s mouth. 

“You want love?” His footsteps approach your desk, heavy on the wooden floor, “You want some love, huh?” 

His large hand runs up the length of your shoulder, fingers finding your neck as he pushes your chin up, “You hearin’ me?”

“Mhm,” you hum, pulling him lower by the bicep of his arm, “Don’t be long,” You rub your nose against his, “You love me?”

Toji brings his other hand to the other side of your neck, thumbs grazing your cheeks with that signature smirk on his lips, “You know I do.” 

He pulls your face towards his, gruff as he questions, “You like when I tell you that?” 

You’re met with the familiar taste of his mouth, tongue exploring yours as he sighs through his nose, hushing your small giggle through the kiss. 

“Aight,” Onyankopon interrupts, “Y’all know Home Depot finna’ close, huh?” 

Toji raises his middle finger in the direction of the other man, giving you a couple more pecks—his hand lingers along your neck when he turns back to his friend, “You’re still over there cryin’? Let me kiss my woman.”

He then stands to his full height, “‘Need anything from me before I leave, wifey?”  he sarcastically questions Onyankopon. 

Onyankopons’ eyes roll up in the direction of the ceiling, hand moving to rub the bridge of his nose. “Just gon’ head, Fushiguro.” 

“Have those emails ready for me,” He gives a kiss to your forehead, “Behave.”

He then extends back up once more, “Watch my woman for me, bastard.”

“I always do,” Onyankopon murmurs, “She’ good with me.”

And with that, the door closed.

You didn’t expect your husband to be gone for almost two hours. He wasn’t answering the phone, and the heat seeping into the home had you ready to call it quits. Your fingers were lazily typing across the keyboard, flickering up to Onyankopon every once in a while. 

You softly ask, “Did he text you back?”

Onyankopons’ brown eyes glance up from his own set of papers. 

“Nah,” he replies, “I called him, ain’t answer.” 

You pout your lips at the news, now knowing Toji was really taking his time. 

Onyankopon notices your face.

“He ain’t dead, shawty. Nigga prolly’ searchin’ for the best maple wood in all of New Orleans. He’d overwork himself before givin’ a bad service.”

The words make you smile a bit, knowing your husband just as much as he did.

You say, “I’m sorry. I just hate when he goes awol—I probably sound annoying.”

Onyankopon lets out a low chuckle, one that rumbles through the release of his chest. His attention was now on you instead of those papers, leaned forward in his chair. His shoulders seemed to expand in size. 

“Youn’ sound annoying, just worried,” He leans forward more, “He ain’t good at checkin’ the time when he be runnin’ errands.“

He looks back down at his work, a moment of silence passing before he glances up again,

“You ain’t hungry, are you?”

Your eyes find themselves back to his face, realizing how long you’d glance over his muscular frame.

“Hm?” You process the question, “Um—no, I’m fine. I don’t like to bother you guys about food while you’re working and I’m just sitting, y’know?” 

You adjust your glasses once more, “I’m fine, really.”

Onyankopon squinted his eyes in the direction of you, eyebrows cocking up when he asked, “You ain’t eat nothin’ today?” 

His voice was like honey. Sweet, with a deep rumble, and it didn’t help the fact that he was giving you his full attention. 

“You know you ain’t no bother to me. I can go grab you sum’.”

The thing was, you were hungry. Toji was sweet enough to have pack you a lunch earlier, one that you’d already scarfed down and hadn’t thought about until this moment. You weren’t sure why you couldn’t just say all that, but maybe it had to do with the way he looked at you.

Something him and your husband had in common—it was that damn glare they kept upon their faces, whether they were happy, upset, or just fixated on something. You hated to say that the sight had you shifting within your chair.

Your face flushes a bit, “I’m okay, Ony. Thank you.”

You might’ve been crazy. You swear you saw the corner of his mouth lifting at the nickname, but it happened too fast— it had to be a trick of the sunlight. 

“You sure?” 

The concern he displayed was always so pure, it made you wanna kill him.

You nod, “Promise. I’m just gonna finish my emails,” you nearly fumbled your words, “I have a couple more to do.”

“Youn’ gotta overwork yo’self, Mama. You can stop if you’ exhausted,” he gently adds, “Toji gon’ be out for a minute.” 

There was that look again, the one that felt deep within your body, like you were entirely naked in front of him. 

There was also the fact that your heart was pounding. It was either a heart attack, or you were going to spontaneously combust—

“You’ warm?” He questions, “You sweatin’.”

You quickly glance down your body, noticing the sheen of your skin. The soft yellow halter dress you wore hugged along your wide hips with the mixture of sweat—but nothing was worse when you realized your nipples seeping through the fabric up top. You weren’t even cold. 

You run your fingers through your hair, pulling your curls farther away from the back of your neck. You awkwardly giggle, “‘S just really hot in here.”

The corner of his mouth definitely twitched up that time, like he had an idea of what was happening to you right now. He probably didn’t. You hoped he didn’t. 

You could see the muscles of his arms flex when he shifted in his chair, fingers of his left hand scratching along his facial hair.

“It is,” he agrees, “Imma’ finish up this window.“

When he stands from his seat, you then hear, “You need me?” 

You blink, eyes flickering over him as your mouth goes dry, “Huh?”

“I said, you lemme’ know if you need anything, aight?”

You were losing it.

“Okay,” you force the most normal smile, “Got it.”

This had to be your personal hell. It might’ve been enjoyable for anyone else, but this was the worst thing you could’ve witnessed. You were trying to finish your work, but you found yourself…glancing above your computer.

Onyankopons’ hands were rough, strong with large palms as he held up the thick glass window, the muscles within his arms flexing from the power of it. A few beads of sweat fell within the crevasses of his chest, dripping down and soaking into his shirt, tight from how it stretched across his body. His dark brows were focused, tongue running across his lips as his jaw was set, feet were slightly spread apart, like a soldier, stance strong—God, he was so strong. 

His hair was braided back, sweat beading and traveling down his temples, face focused on the work in front of him. He gave a loud huff as he nailed in the window frame, face scowling as his biceps flexed. 

Lord Jesus. 

But oh, you must’ve been in the seventh ring of hell when he tugged that shirt off of his body. He’d begun playing music to keep himself distracted, but if only he knew. 

The tattoos that lined his arms and chest were now on full display, shiny with the sweat. His chest and abs flexed from the work of lifting heavy objects, the thick length of his tatted neck and shoulders flexing from the movements. 

And then, so attractively, he rolled his neck back, grunting as he lifted the weight of the glass once more. 

You felt dizzy.

Your cheeks flushed as you watched him, eyes staring almost dreamily. There was nothing more attractive than a man working hard, sweat pouring down his body as he pushed his strength to the limits. It made you—imagine things. Your body throbbed at your thoughts, a small frown coming between your lips at the sight. 

But that frown quickly erased, as your heart nearly dropped into your ass the moment you heard the door unlock. You hiked your body up to the perfect sitting position, scattering your fingers for your pen as you scribbled random words along the bottom of your papers. 

You couldn’t even look in Toji’s direction.

Your husband could’ve called out your name, but you still wouldn’t have looked over. So when Toji appeared beside your desk, his strong arm draping over your shoulders, the weight nearly startled you.

“Babydoll,” he rasped, “What’s goin’ on? You need some water?”

Your eyes glanced at Onyankopon. 

Kissing Toji’s jaw, your face flushed as you deflected, “The Louisiana heat is dire—what took you so long, baby?”

Toji’s eyebrows quirked up at your sudden affection, catching the tense in your body. However, being your easily distracted husband, he loved when you wanted to be on him. His hands rubbed over your arms, attempting to soothe you a bit.

“The closest Home Depot didn’t have the wood in stock,” he murmured, “Damn near traveled the entire state.”

Your hips had always been your sensitive spot, lower body shivering a bit as he began to rub there. You found yourself wanting to hold his face, tugging his body to be closer as you told him, “‘Missed you, Toji.”

His grip was light, a thumb brushing along the curve of one of your eyebrows. 

“Yeah?” he murmured back. 

He noticed the way you tried to look elsewhere. 

His fingers came to grip beneath your chin, gently forcing your attention back to him. 

“Eyes,” he reminded, “Need em’ here.” 

Your husband was a lot of things, but oblivious wasn’t one of them.

“I’m just a little tired,” you found something to say, your hands rubbing at the smoothness of his jaw, rubbing his neck, rubbing everywhere to distract him.

Toji leaned into your touch, but not much. It made your heart beat more. 

“You sure that’s the only thing?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

His frown flickers your face once more, but the warmth of your palms was all too soothing. His mouth grunted along your throat, “Missed you too,” kissing pecks along the warm flesh. Your fingers sunk into his hair as you giggled a bit, leaning your head back for him to keep his affection going. But in that moment, your eyes might’ve glanced at Onyankopon once more. 

If only you’d realized that your husband noticed.

Finishing off the night was another hour later, as you’d both said your goodbyes to Onyankopon, quickly making it home to wash off the heat of the day. You sat in the vanity your husband had built for you, angles carved within the gold trim of the mirror, lights attached to the surface below to do your skincare or makeup. 

As your husband was within the shower, your mind wandered. You’d hoped today’s little hiccup was a spur of the moment, and that you’d become a bit delirious from the heat. However, you still thought about the way Onyankopon looked at you, and something in that still had your thighs squeezing together.

“Pretty girl,” you hear your husband call, the bathroom door opening to reveal him within a towel—it hangs low on his muscular hips, abs sweltering in water, upper body flexing as he dries the damp of his hair. 

“You finished up those emails earlier?”

Shit. 

The tips of your fingers swiped along your cheek with oil, your eyes briefly finding his as you replied, “Um—No, I didn’t.”

Toji raised an eyebrow in your direction, not used to hearing your denial of finished work.

“What happened?”

Your body shivered under the intensity of his gaze, the heat of the shower steam slowly crawling into the room. 

“Got distracted with a couple of phone calls,” was your lie, “Want me to finish them before bed?”

“You seem distracted now,” he points out, “‘Can barely make eye contact with me.”

“You’re the most handsome man in the world,” you hum, “What can I say?”

Toji huffs a chuckle.

His gaze still hardened on you, studying you with those all-seeing eyes of his. You kept your head turned, face flushing again, fingers moving along your facial products as you pretended not to feel it. That’s when you hear him again.  

“Let me ask you somethin’.”

Your heart immediately started beating, turning towards him with raised eyebrows. 

You tug a curl behind your ear, “Yeah?” 

Toji leaned his hip along the edge of the sink, towering over you even with feet away.

“How you feelin’ ‘bout Onyankopon?” he flatly questions, “You like him?” 

Your eyes blink at the question. You tilt your head, “You’ve been friends for years. Why wouldn’t I?”

Toji lets a low hum escape his chest while his thumbs hooked at the hips of his towel. His biceps flexed from the position. 

“That’s not what I asked.” 

You tried to keep your expression neutral. 

“What are you asking, then?”

“To be honest with me.” 

Onyankopon wasn’t a topic he treaded lightly on, especially when it concerned you. He wasn’t a possessive man by any means, but any question he asked, he wanted the truth. 

He repeats, “You like him?” 

“I don’t—“ you went to argue, but his eyes stopped you.

So you try again. 

“That’s a bit of a weird question to ask, Fushiguro.”

The corner of Toji’s mouth twitched with a frown at you dodging the question. His eyes, however, kept you in a hold. 

“Nah,” he disagreed, “It ain’t.” 

You sat there quietly, thinking about lying like you’d been doing all day. But the guilt of lying to him felt heavy in your chest.  

So, with the slightest of hesitance, you softly admitted, “I do.” 

You then follow up with, “But it’s not…like that.”

“Make me understand.”

You shifted in your chair, legs crossing as you attempted to keep your gaze from drifting. 

You replied, “I don’t like him in a romantic way. I just—“

Your teeth scrape at your lip a bit, “It’s just a little fantasy, you know? That’s all. I would never act on any of my emotions, Toji. You know that.” 

His expression was unreadable. 

“Right?” 

You wanted that confirmation, swallowing hard. Toji studied you, jaw shifting in the silence that fell. 

You then added, “You’re the one I married.” 

He replied, “That don’t’ answer my next question.” 

“What question?” 

His next words had the silence in the room deafening. 

“Your fantasy. Talk me through it.” 

Your mouth parts to speak, but no words escape you. 

“What?”

“Tell me about your fantasy,” Toji repeated, “Don’t act like you don’t understand what I’m askin’ you.”

You felt heat creep back up your body, your cheeks practically on fire. 

“There’s nothing to tell, baby. It’s—silly.” 

Toji’s jaw ticked. 

“You think I’m mad at you?”

You question, “Are you?” 

“I’m not. Shit ain’t silly if you’re flustered like this.”

He then repeats, “Tell me.” 

You swallowed, fiddling with your manicured fingers. 

“Promise you won’t be mad?” 

He huffs, “I just told you I wasn’t, babydoll. C’mon.” 

Your legs moved together awkwardly, fingers still fiddling, “When I see the two of you being together, working, just—doing stuff, I imagine…”

Toji waited, watching you fidget. 

“Sexual stuff, Y’know? My mind just gets a little dirty.”

“You think ‘bout him fuckin’ you?”

“Toji.”

“You think ‘bout him fuckin’ you while I watch?”

“Fushiguro!” you squeaked, “Jesus, no. I think about the both of you,” you clarify, “That’s all!” 

You stand from the chair, going over to lightly wrap your arms around his neck—you’re breathless as you whimper, “Please stop asking me this. It’s a stupid thing, okay? I love you. I’d never do anything with anyone else.” 

“Is that somethin’ you want?”

“What?” you frown, “What do you mean?”

“You want me and him? You wanna take that?” 

You knock your head into his chest, throwing your hands over your face as you squeak again, “Baby!”

The corner of Toji’s mouth lifted with amusement, “I’m just askin’ a question.”

You felt mortified.

You were stubborn in keeping your face covered, muttering out, “No, Fushiguro. Please. Stop.”

You could feel his chuckle against your head, deep within his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist. 

“You’re so shy, woman.” 

“You’re insane,” you murmur, heart thumping in your chest, “Why aren’t you mad? How aren’t you mad?”

“Don’t really have anythin’ to be mad ‘bout,” Toji murmured, squeezing at your waist, “You like the idea of it; ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” 

“I feel insane,” You reply.

“Shit is kinda’ cute, honestly.” 

“Toji,” You smack his bicep, “Stop.”

“Ouch.”

 His hands gripped at the full flesh of your ass, forcing you to hold around his neck as you sat on the sink countertop.

“You done with your lil’ tantrum?” 

You roll your eyes, “My husband is tryna’ have me admit to wanting to fuck his best friend. I think my reaction is pretty valid.”

His lips brushed up your neck, voice deep, gruff with his reply, “Ain’t nobody said nothin’ ‘bout all that, huh?” Your legs hooking at either side of his hips, holding him between the warmth of your thighs.

“Can we stop talking about this?” you question, “Why can’t you just say I’m pretty and that you love me? Why do you have to make my life harder?”

He smirked at your complaint. He then responded with, “I think you’re the prettiest thing in the South; you know that.”

His strong hands were already tugging the fabric of your night gown, palming at the soft flesh up your thigh. You grip at his hair, fingers twisting within it.

“You know I love you so damn much,” he grunts, nose running along the curve of your neck, “You’re mine.” 

You pucker your lips out, awaiting a kiss.

Toji gives you what you want, of course. He groaned from the sensation of you tugging down on his bottom lip, sucking on it with a pop as he pulled away.

You run your tongue along your lips as you giggle, “Mkay.” 

You then sigh, “Wanna go to bed? Get a little—freaky?” you playfully wiggle your brows. 

“Yeah. Lemme’ call up Onyankopon first—“

You smack his chest again.

The next couple of days were better than you imagined. It was a resting period, both you and Toji spending most of your time sleeping, cuddling, watching shows, and overall rejuvenating one another in preparation for work the next week. 

Your time off had gotten infinitely better when your husband received a phone call from a client within the Garden District—who he thought wasn’t interested in his services—but when he offered triple Toji and Onyankopon’s pay rate, it seemed otherwise. You whisper screamed as you jumped on the bed above him, your feet thumping on either side of his legs as he talked business, watching as he tried to hold off his chuckle. 

Here’s when things got weird. Later that morning, Onyankopon planned to come over for a football game, as you’d also agreed to cook in celebration of your big contract coming up. It was a usual routine—football, gym, coming back home to cook. 

But something about today’s routine felt…different. 

Toji and Onyankopon. The combination of the two was something you could usually handle, but when you came downstairs that morning for coffee, you felt an energy coming off of them. You were usually comfortable in their company. Toji was his rough, crass self, but nonetheless a loving husband. And then there was Onyankapon, who was usually the sweetheart. 

But now, you felt as if their attitudes had shifted. They’d been quiet and watchful since you’d entered the kitchen, eyes following your every single move. That’s when you realize—they were watching you like you were their prey.

“Good morning?” 

Your voice was sweet, nervous. You waved as if they weren’t ten feet away.

Both men replied with their own version of a greeting, their eyes locked on your form as you moved to grab a cup of coffee. You could feel the heat of their stares. 

It was almost—too silent.

If that wasn’t weird, this definitely was. The energy picked up around the afternoon, both men gulping down a beer together as their low tones barked at the television, watching the game at its peak. You’d finished up with those emails you were supposed to finalize, snuggling yourself into your husband as you leaned your upper body into his, Onyankopon beside you while continuously watching the game. Your eyes were a bit droopy as you weren’t as interested, sinking your face deeper into Toji’s abdomen. And that’s when it happened—you felt Onyankopon graze his fingers along your hip as he spoke to your husband about the game. Your eyes went wide.

Onyankopon’s voice was gruff from football games and beers, but his fingers were steady as ever against your skin. Both men were locked onto the screen as if your reaction was nothing important—All the while, you felt your heart thumping under your rib cage. 

Your clit throbbed. 

Then, it was your husband's turn. Toji’s hand was a stark contrast to Onyankopon’s; rough, large, calloused, and much thicker. His fingers cladded onto your ass, pulling your body back so you were nestled further between the two. 

“You think LSU’s gonna’ make an upset today?”

“Ain’t no way them’ niggas beatin’ Georgia,” Onyankopon shook his head, “I’m reppin’ my state, but they’ be drawlin’.” 

“You always goin’ too hard for the opposition,” Toji countered, “Gotta’ be more confident in the home team.”

“You ain’t even from Louisiana,” Onyankopon sucked his teeth, “Why you defendin’ niggas like they’ payin’ you to say allat’?” 

“I ‘been here for sixteen years now. Chill.” 

They’re both touching. Again.

Your heart felt as if it was being squeezed between two giant fingers. You’d tried so hard to keep your focus on the game, but Onyankopon shifted forward in his seat, leaning more of his body closer to your ass. Toji shifted his legs apart, forcing you to lean a bit more onto Onyankopon.

Your heart palpitated. 

“You wanna’ go against this bet or not?”

Onyankopon was still rubbing at your hip. He grunted at Toji’s response, “Don’t get yo’ ass beat.” 

“Beat this bet, Pussy.” 

“Who’ the pussy?” 

“I’d say the man who’s ‘bouta lose fifty dollars.” 

Your ass was right on top of Onyankopon’s thigh at this point.

You inhaled a shaky breath, feeling a bit dizzy at the scent of them. Toji smelled like nature; earthy, woodsy. Onyankopon, however, smelled like musk and some type of cologne. You weren’t sure which one you liked more, their argument now completely muffled to your ears. 

They were trying to kill you.

Maybe it didn’t actually happen that way. Your mind fed on those delusions as you stood within the gym later that day, zoning out each time you waited to do your rep behind both men. You’d always worked out with them, learning different techniques that left your body sore afterwards—but once again, today was different. 

They were both rough with their work outs, grunting whenever they’d throw down a set of weights. Chests’ heaving, sweat collecting, they were hot. But today, the attention was on you.

To top it off, they were still touching. 

The way Onyankopons’ fingers would graze over your waist as he helped you with your sets, how Toji’s hand smacked your ass as you walked past them—You couldn’t handle them.

It all led into the night—once everyone was refreshed and showered, you were within the kitchen cooking one of their favorite meals—steak, loaded potatoes and broccoli. You were comforted by the candles lit along the house, a glass of wine easing your nerves from the entire day. Your ginger curls draped around your face and past your hips, pale yellow halter top and matching capris hugging the fat of your ass, frilly sock beneath your golden heels to match the jewelry on your caramel skin. You were currently seasoning your steak, eyes briefly flickering to the patio door halfway open as both men smoked a blunt together. You watched them.

Toji was dressed in those loose, dark cargos that hung off of his hips for dear life, a white muscle shirt stretched to its limit across his biceps and over the chest. Onyankopons’ pants were black, and his shirt was navy blue. They're both huge. 

A slight breeze drifted through the cracked patio door, blowing into the house and mixing with the scents of Toji’s—and now their—smoke.

Their shoulders flexed as they passed the blunt back and forth, laughter and low conversation heard through the glass. They were both so handsome, so attractive, so rough compared to you.

Your eyes briefly met theirs from the doorway, Toji’s eyes that dark grey, Onyankopons’ a lighter brown. 

They were looking at you. No other way to describe it. They were looking at you. 

The sight made you a bit wobbly. Nonetheless, you waved through the window at the two, dimple poking with the soft smile you gave them.

Your husbands’ fingers rubbed at his jaw while Onyankopon cracked a smirk, waving back at you in return. 

Okay.

When they made it back inside, you were in the middle of cutting your potatoes up—you hummed, “Everything okay?”

Toji’s gaze was focused on your hands as you chopped the vegetables, but it eventually flickered to your face as he replied, "Good, just missed you out there.”

Onyankopons’ head tilted your direction too, eyes scanning you from head to toe, “You look good,” He complimented, voice raspy. 

You blushed at his compliment. Accepting the kiss Toji gave along your cheek, you’re distracted as he tugs his finger through your curls—you giggle a bit, “Just wanted to look pretty for tonight—you guys look nice too,” you turn your face to kiss at your husbands lips, “You guys hungry?”

Toji leaned in for another kiss, sucking your lower lip between his teeth as he multiplied his pecks. You rubbed your fingers along his shoulder, turning your face up for his mouth to find your jaw. You weren’t used to your husband giving this kind of affection in front of his friend. 

“Starvin’,” Toji grunted. 

Onyankopons’ eyes stayed on you, tongue running along those large lips of his, “You always lookin’ pretty, Mama. You know that?” 

The pet name made your thighs want to clench.

“Um—“ you giggled once more, holding Toji’s jaw to keep him in place, “Thank you, Ony. I should be done with dinner soon, okay?”

“Don’t take too long,” Toji murmured along your neck, “Can’t keep my mouth off’ you.” 

His hand smacked the fuller portion of your ass, sending it jiggling beneath your capris. 

Onyankopons’ tongue ran along his lips, “Aight. I’m waitin’ on you, girl.”

That sentence weighed in your chest.

Toji went upstairs to find another lighter, leaving the two of you downstairs—alone. You hummed the low instrumentals of your music, beginning to slice the stems of your broccoli. You gave Onyankopon a small smile as his eyes found yours every so often, tugging your hair out of your face as a way to distract how anxious you felt.  

You softly ask, “How’d you spend your days off?”

Onyankopons’ eyes followed the movement of your fingers through your hair, watching the way your neck exposed when you threw it back. His arms folded over his chest, the veins within his forearms prominent from the action. 

“Shit was aight,” he replied evenly, “‘Nigga just caught up on some sleep. You?”

You hummed, attempting to look for another cutting board, “We caught up on a couple of shows, cuddled, mushy shit that married couples do,” you shake your head.

You then ask, “How ‘you feel about the contract in the Garden District?” 

The corner of Onyankopons’ mouth twitched with a small smile, eyes lingering on the way your hips shifted.

“Feels good to have contracts comin’ left and right,” he replied, “Blessed, essentially. Y’all’ been on my ass since the last project, so I’m ready to start sum’ new.”

You turn your head towards him, hair draping over your shoulder. You roll your eyes, musing, “Y’know it’s not like that, Onyankopon. Toji is just—despite the things clients ask for, he wants to go above and beyond that. Not saying you don’t, he’s just—particular, you know?”

Onyankopons’ eyes were practically glued to you as he replied, “Yeah, nah, I ain’t mean it like that. I know how Toji gets, that’s just part of the process,” His head cocked, “He just get’ too caught up sometimes.” 

Onyankopons’ eyebrows lifted, “How you’ be puttin’ up wit’ him?”

“The same way you do,” you softly giggle, “We both love him. It’s a thing we seem to have in common.”

He chuckled in return, your attention moving back to finish cutting your broccoli. After a few moments of silence, your eyes flick back up to him—you call, “Ony?”

You think on your words.

“I just wanted to say—thank you, for being such a good friend to him. He doesn’t have anyone in his life outside of me, and having such amazing emotional support, he’s happier when you’re around. It means the world.”

Onyankopons’ expression changed with the way your voice softened, something warm, comfortable, almost intimate coming from the way you talked about his friend, his best friend for that matter. 

His voice was softer in reply, “Of course, Mama. Toji’s family to me. Couldn’t ask a nigga for a better person to have in my corner.”

After a moment, he then questions, “What ‘bout you?” 

You blink at the question, “What about me?” 

“You’ happy to have me around?”

The question makes your heart thump. You sigh, “I’m always happy to have you around, Ony. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Ion’ make you feel no type of way?” 

You blink. 

“Of course not.”

There was something about his tone that made your nerves tighten. The way he looked at you was different from the way Toji did, but it had your heart thumping the same. 

“No,” You reply, “You’ve been nothing but sweet to me since day one.” 

He spread his legs a bit, abdomen flexing as he did so. 

Onyankopons’ head tilted, “Just sweet?”

You swallowed, nodding. 

“Yeah.” 

His fingers flexed as they rested in his lap. You turned your back to him, beginning to cut the remaining broccoli. 

“Nothin’ else?” 

Your neck prickled at the way his voice dropped. 

You shook your head, keeping your eyes locked below. But that’s when you hear—

“I see how you be lookin’ at me, girl.” 

Your hands clenched around the knife. 

When your eyes find his, that’s when your body tensed—your hands quickly dropping the knife as you feel a slice along your index finger. You held your hand towards your body, scrunching your face at the discomfort. 

Onyankopons’ chair made an obnoxious noise as he shot up from his seat—It seemed he was across the room in a second, towering over your body as he took hold of your injured hand. His hands were large, long fingers circling all the way to your wrist as he assessed the wound. 

“I—I wasn’t paying attention,” You murmured, “I got distracted. You—“

And then, he’s sucking.

Your eyes widened as Onyankopons’ lips engulfed the wound on your index finger, tongue licking the area with zero hesitance. It was the last thing you expected him to do. 

“Ony—“

“‘Gotta be more careful, Mama.” 

His tongue runs across his mouth as he pulls back, as if savoring the taste of you. Your lips parted, your chest heaving as his lips hovered along yours. 

“You got a taste on you, girl.”

You could’ve died right there. That’s when you hear the heavy thumps of your husband coming downstairs, your face hot as he eyes the two of you in closer vicinity. 

He questions, “You good, baby? What happened?”

You felt dizzy under both of their heavy gazes. You swallowed again, nodding.

“She cut her finger,” Onyankopons’ replied evenly, “She wasn’t payin’ attention.” 

And as both men conversed normally after that, that’s when you realized—they were in fact trying to get you. 

Your mind was elsewhere during dinner. The wine had your brain fuzzy, keeping yourself quiet as you watched both men talk shit between one another, per usual. Everything up in this moment began to click—the day you watched Onyankopon, the conversation with Toji, the weird interactions between the two all day—at this point, you were just waiting for something to happen. 

“Yo’, you remember when we went into that adult store up on Bourbon street? Niggas was weird,” Onyankopon chuckle, “Never went back after that.” 

Toji huffed, nodding in agreement, “Dude was tellin’ us ‘bout wantin’ to be a dog. I’m not judgin’, but I didn’t wanna hear all that.” 

Both men laughed. Your fingers tapped against your glass nervously. 

Toji then turns, “We went to one a couple years ago, huh, babydoll?”

You blink at Toji’s words, snapping out of your thoughts when your husband addresses you. 

“Yeah,” you laugh a bit, “Yeah, we did.”

Toji chuckled once more, “We were in there for hours.” 

Your eyes widened, “We were not in there for that long!” 

Onyankopons’ head tilted, “What were y’all doin’ in there, applyin’ for the job?” 

You roll your eyes, “Funny, but no. I just wanted to find something—sorry, you don’t wanna hear all that,” you shook your head, “It’s a little TMI.” 

Onyankopon raised an eyebrow. 

“Try me, I ain’t gon’ freak out.”

You inhaled a deep breath, giving in. You sat up in your seat, clearing your throat as you fiddled with the stem of your glass. 

“I was just—browsing,” you giggle, “I was looking for a dildo, but the ones they had were a little too big for me. Like, seven or eight inches.” 

Toji and Onyankopons’ heads tilted, expressions staying the same, but you could see it within their eyes that there was a change. Toji’s eyes darkened, lips pressed together. Onyankopons’ jaw flexed a bit. 

And then, Onyankopon chuckles. 

It sends a chill through your spine, one where you didn’t understand what was exactly funny. Your eyes run across him the same way you did a couple days ago—cornrows, strident face, full goatee. You almost missed his next set of words as he looked at Toji.

“She ain’t gon’ be able to fit me.” 

You felt your entire body freeze. 

Toji’s jaw clicked in return, “Nah, she will. She be takin’ my shit real good now.” 

Were you going into shock?

You could’ve melted into the chair. Toji murmured, “My pretty ass woman. Always so shy.” 

“She’ more than shy,” Onyankopon murmured in return, his tone low, “Ain’t that right, pretty girl?” 

Your body felt like it was about to light on fire from the inside out. 

“I—“

“What’s wrong, Mama?” Onyankopon questions, “Youn’ want me no’ more?” 

Your mouth dropped open. 

Toji grunted, “Words, baby. We need to hear you.” 

And there it was. The arousal in your body ignited like a flame in that very second, becoming wet. You looked between the both of them, and suddenly, you were trying desperately not to break.

“Toji,”  you pouted, “I—“

“Nuh-uh,” Toji clicked his teeth, “We don’t pout. You gotta’ speak up, don’t you?” 

His gaze was intense, his lips slightly upturning as he watched you flounder around yourself. You had never felt so vulnerable in your life as both men’s eyes kept you locked on the chair—no escape. 

Onyankopon gave a low groan in return, “Use your words, Mama. I love hearin’ that voice.” 

Your chest rose and fell faster, feeling like you wanted to rip your skin off. 

Moral to the story? You were absolutely, positively fucked.

Your round eyes stared from above, fluttering between two looming frames that glared back down at you—the difference now? They were naked, and so were you. Your palms covered the swell of your nipples, ginger curls  draping over your curvy body in a way that almost made you look otherworldly. You chewed at your baby pink lips, horny, curious.

They were so big. 

Even within the bedroom, both men shared many differences—Onyankopons’ dick was massive, thick and veined at the top, long from the base. The complexion of his skin was beautiful and even, all the way down to his deep pink tip. Toji’s, however, was a bit more manageable—he wasn’t as wide, but was about a bit longer, his tip a softer pink as his chest rose and fell in a harsh manner, watching you. 

“Show how pretty your shit is, baby.”

Toji’s voice. It echoes in your mind, low, gruff, and rumbling. 

But that didn’t keep you from listening—even if you were a bit shy, you turn yourself to face the opposite of them—your back perfectly arches lower onto the bed, cheek pressed into the sheets as you spread your pussy open—your folds were in fact pretty, rougè, glistening beneath the dim lights of the room.

“There we go,” Onyankopons murmured, fingers moving to grip at the full bottom of one of your ass cheeks. When he spanked there, your body trembled in return, folds clenching around nothing, 

“Look how muhfuckin’ pretty you are.”

You whimpered into the sheets. Toji gave a low grunt of his own, hand coming up to grip at your other cheek harshly, spreading you open more for them to see, “Fuckin’ hell, baby.”

Your back arched a bit more at the feel of your husband, stomach pressed into the mattress as your body quivered. 

That’s when you felt a thick, heat prodding at your entrance. He’s slapping his tip on your folds.

You clenched once more—your nerves were on fire from just the sensation alone, feeling of his thick, slick head smacking down. 

“Which one’ you feelin’, huh?”

“Toji,” you whimpered quickly, “Feel you, baby.”

“Just me,” Toji rasped, “Always mine. Ain’t she?”

Onyankopons’ voice was behind you, “Yours entirely.” 

You felt your back stiffen to keep in the mewl you were about to let out—your eyes continuously fluttered, cheek still smashed against the sheets. 

“Now you listenin’,”  Toji murmured, “All good girls do that, huh?” 

Onyankopon chuckled behind you; the bed shifted as he spread you even further. 

“C’mere. Show me some love,”  your husband husked. 

That's why it was your favorite term—it was something you both used, as you either wanted the sweetest affection possible—or he was planning to rut his dick at the back of your throat. Your body was still shivering as you turned, your teeth grazing over your bottom lip as his hand found your chin. 

Your round eyes glaze up, “Lemme’ have a kiss, baby.” 

“Needy ass.” 

His thumb swiped over your mouth, pulling your bottom lip with him as he watched your lips pucker, waiting for him to meet you. 

“Just pretty as hell.” 

His lips touched yours for a second, his tongue sliding inside your mouth to taste you. You returned the kiss, sliding your tongue around his mouth messily, panting when you pulled back—it made you throb everywhere, your mouth then lowering itself to latch onto the edge of his tip. The scent of him, the flex of his pelvic bone, you moan against him, sliding your fingers across his muscular abdomen.

“I know you’re excited baby—watch them’ teeth,” He growled, his head tilting back as the grip in your hair yanked your head further down his length, “Careful.” 

You moaned around Toji’s dick once more, taking him just a little bit deeper into the confines of your mouth as he huffed. You could barely get halfway, your hands moving from his abdomen to rest on his muscular thighs, nails biting into his skin as his fingers kept you moving, the schluck of your mouth already creating a sound within the room. Your eyes cast to Onyankopon who watches, keeping his palm steady around his own dick, vision narrowing at the sight. 

A string of saliva follows your full lips, your mouth pulling halfway off as your fingers wrap at the base of him, rotating your palm. Your voice, it’s higher in this scenario—your curls drape your body as you mewled, “Didn’t mean to hurt you, Daddy.”

Toji’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle, his hands gripping at your hair as you ran your tongue across his slit, spreading pre-cum across his tip before your mouth sucks, “You’re fine, baby. ‘Know you ain’t mean it.”

Toji then grunts, his face twisted back in pure pleasure, “Wanna’ see that pretty face a lil’ more.” 

His other hand came down to grip along the side of your cheek, running his thumb along your jaw, “Tongue out at me. Show me how good my girl is.”

You didn’t hesitate to do as you were told, your mouth sliding backwards off of his length, tongue poking out to press just below his head. 

Toji groaned, “Shit.” 

 You moaned in return, the sound muffling around him as your eyes locked on his. Your husband wasn’t always the most vocal man, letting you do most of the talking in bed—but to see how elated you were to have an audience, Toji let out a deep moan once you began to take him again, sliding him all the way to the back of your throat. 

His hips pushed forward, slapping up against your chin as your mouth worked him—You looked up from beneath your eyelashes, eyes growing watery with the back of his tip hitting your throat. Your eyes found Onyankopon’s again, giving him a show.

Onyankopon’s jaw clicked at the sight.

 Toji’s hands grip onto you, his face almost viscous in the look he gave. His voice came out in a hiss, “She ain’t stoppin’ no time soon.” 

Onyankopon grunts at Toji’s words, the veins in his hands becoming more visible, “You’ doin’ a good job, girl—shit.”

“She’s doin’ a good job, huh?” Toji repeated, his free hand raking into your hair again, “You see that? My baby givin’ her all right now.”

All you could do under his grip was moan, nodding your head through its back and forth.

“I’m watchin’,” Onyankopons replied, his neck flexing from how he held himself. His fingers wrapped tightly around the base of his length, “I see you real good. Pretty ass bitch.” 

Your face was a mess at this point. The makeup you had on earlier was smeared all across your mouth, your eyes still holding Onyankopons’ while Toji continued to move your head with his strong, large hands. 

He grunted through his teeth, “She gettin’ better?” 

“Yeah. Her mouth’ good as hell—I’m tryna’ feel that shit.”

Onyankopon wags his dick beneath his palm, “You gon’ let me?” 

That’s when you slow your movements—your eyes peer back to the heft of his length, nearly the size of a monster you weren’t sure you could manage. At the same time, there was a slight hesitance in your eyes—simply because of who he was to you, and the last thing you wanted was to make your husband jealous. 

Your lips swelled as you ran your tongue against them, eyes flickering up to Toji—your voice is soft, “Can I?” 

Toji’s face flickered with something, but it quickly smoothed once he met Onyankopon’s dark eyes. A moment passed between them—a beat, or maybe two—your husband inhaled then exhaled, his features smirking slightly as he gave a single nod, “Go ‘head.”

“I love you,” you moan, sliding your tongue across Toji’s tip once more, “So much.” 

It was a reassurance for him. 

“I know you do,” Toji replied gruffly, his grip in your hair slackening once you move towards Onyankopons’ now exerted dick—it nearly slaps you in the face. You tugged at your lip once more, eyes eagerly facing up to him.

You weren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Your fingers didn’t even wrap around him all the way.

Your hands come up to grip at the flesh of his quads, fingers digging into his skin as you flattened your tongue over the sides of Onyankopons’ dick, “Gon’ make me feel good, Mama? This what you been wantin’?” 

You nod eagerly, feeling the way it twitched against your face. It jumped, too.

Your eyes widened. Your mouth was almost too small, or he was too thick. You moaned around his tip, sucking through the immediate fullness of your cheeks. Somehow, this felt rewarding.

You bobbed your head once, twice—He groans, his hands twitching against his thighs as he lets you try and take him, “There you go—that fuckin’ mouth.” 

Onyankopon gritted his teeth; your tongue continued to slide up and down his length, sucking and swirling at his tip, wanting all of him in your mouth. Toji watched you, and he noticed something—the way your eyes rolled, as if this was in fact all you wanted. You were nastier, sloppier with the man opposite of him.

You moaned around his head, loudly, and Toji’s jaw clicked. You were careless—filthier with Onyankopon. 

“Keep talkin’ to her,” Toji grunts, “That’s the shit she likes.”

Onyankopons’ hands finally settled on both sides of your throat, a rough grip on your chin with his thumbs—he moaned heavily, eyes flickering down towards you, “Pretty ass face, Mama. You suckin’ me up like a fuckin’ pro.” 

You moaned in response, “Tastes so good.” 

“Keep takin’ that shit, baby.” 

Toji’s voice was all around you. 

Onyankopon pushed his hips forward, a small shlupp was heard as you gagged. His fingers pressed against your cheek, feeling the curve of your stuffed mouth when he ran his thumb over the flesh, “Yeah? How it’ look?” 

Without a second to waste, you let his tip pop out of your mouth, tongue poking out as you moaned, “‘Look so good. So handsome, Papa.” 

You could hear him growl at the pet name, your face becoming more of a mess from how spit dripped over your chin. You were in a daze.

“Look in her eyes,” Toji instructs, “Look into them when you speak, too.” 

Onyankopons’ eyes flicker down to meet your own once more,  “Like that?” 

You nod eagerly, lips swollen and puffy as you nod, “Mhm.” 

“Always keep them’ eyes on her.” 

Onyankopons’ mouth twitched into a smirk. They were brown; dark, a color you could get lost in if you looked long enough. They were bright despite the dimness of the room, holding nothing else but you. 

His grip on your face got tighter as you slid your mouth back onto his length. You moaned again, feeling so full, “So big, Ony.” 

You were becoming confident, a point you hit when you were so horny that it made you delirious—here it was. The sight of you was blinding—your mouth was engorged with the space of his dick, cheeks bulging as your eyes rolled shut blissfully. That's when you tugged Onyankopon from your mouth, tongue lolling out as you mewled, “Spit on it.” 

And he did—he lowered his mouth, dropping saliva between your lips—he found himself kissing you seconds later, feigning to taste you. It was good, so good. Your body rose up to press against his as your fingers found his shoulders, nails digging into the skin as you moved forward on your knees to get closer to him, your head tilting further back so he could slide his tongue into your mouth. You sucked each other’s mouths. 

That’s when it happens—when you lower back down to find the fat of Onyankopon’s dick, you slap it on your tongue so loudly that it echoes—Toji grunts in an irritation, “Don’t be fuckin’ cute.” 

You giggled, running your tongue over Onyankopon’s length, sucking his balls into your mouth. 

“Just wanted to taste him, Daddy.” 

Onyankopon darkly chuckled. 

That's when you hear Toji’s, “Yeah?”

He grunts, “Quit playing. Lay on your back, miss your pussy in my mouth.”

Onyankopons’ voice cut through the room, “Lay that ass down.” 

At both of their commands, you listen. Your heart thumped within your chest as your back made contact with the bed—you hear Toji’s, “Come hold her legs—she be runnin’ from my mouth,” he grunts.

You whimper, “Sensitive, baby.”

Regardless, Onyankopon was behind your head—he hovered over to pull your legs back, holding you by your ankles as he spread you apart.

Your fingers were already sinking in your husband's hair below, clenching the tresses between your fingers—his tongue spread across your folds, sliding saliva all across the flesh. 

Toji groaned as he felt your legs already trembling, your eyes rolling as Onyankopon kept your legs open. You tug at your lower lip, voice high pitched, “F—fuck, baby. Missed your mouth so much.”

He grunts, his mouth still pressed against your clit. Your legs squirmed, toes clenching as his tongue slid across your entrance, “Taste so good.” 

You moaned in response, writhing—you were more sensitive the more his tongue slipped against your clit, swirling around it in slow motions. Your chest rose and fell, feeling the heat of both men’s touch. You whimpered again, hips wriggling under the pressure of Toji’s hands over your pelvis, “Toji,” you moaned, “It—ooh.” 

He warned against your folds, “Stop movin’.” 

Onyankopons’ grip on your ankles was borderline bruising, his dark eyes flickering down to watch how Toji’s mouth lapped at you. Each time you moved, he spread your ankles even farther.

“Look at the way he just in yo’ pussy,” Onyankopon grunts in your ear, “Bouta’ have a nigga drownin’ in yo’ shit.”

Your thighs trembled like crazy at the sounds your pussy made, almost as if Toji were blowing bubbles across the flesh. You pouted beneath yourself, “Fuck,” you mewl, “That feels so good.”

Toji’s took one long, slow, lick over your clit. He grumbled in return, “Pussy messy as fuck, baby.”

Your back arches. You lift above to take a look—Onyankopons’ eyes were staring down, watching. You could see the veins in his arms throbbing as he gripped your ankles.

“God damn,” Onyankopon murmured, “Yo’ pussy finna’ get sucked up by my mouth. That shit lookin’ edible.” 

The combination of Toji’s mouth and Onyankopon’s words, your pout deepened on your face.

Toji didn’t hesitate to bury his face all into your folds. Your legs were trembling dangerously at this point, watching as he ate you like a starved man. To make matters worse, Onyankopons’ breath was hot in your ear as he continued to hold your ankles, eyes still locked on your husband between your legs—your chest rose and fell, the sensation of Toji’s mouth against you becoming almost too much to handle. You groaned, “Oooh,” legs trying to snap closed, head falling back against Onyankopon’s shoulder, just moaning within his ear.

“You smell so sweet,” Onyankopon murmured, “He eatin’ that pussy,” Onyankopons growled in your ear, “Shit look’ good as hell with his face in it.” 

You whimpered at his words. 

Onyankopons leaned forward just a bit, mouth almost pressed against your ear, “I’m missin’ yo’ mouth, babydoll.”

He tugs your hair from around your cheeks, looming above you as his dick slapped across your entire face—his tip is sliding between your mouth, making you whimper even deeper as Toji continued eating at you from below.

Onyankopons’ dick was bigger upside down. You moaned around it, making it hit the back of your throat with every quick thrust he made—he grunted, “You doin’ so good, pretty mama. Finna’ have a nigga put his shit in you.” 

Your hands reached back, digging into his hips so you could pull him all the way in, “Fuck, girl, Yo’ throat bulgin’.” 

Toji continued eating you from below; the mixture of him and Onyankopons had your eyes watery, legs shaking as if you’d been tased. Every other word out of your mouth was a moan that went directly onto Onyankopon’s dick. 

That’s when you pull him from your mouth, sliding your tongue on the sides of his length—you whimper below him, “Want it in me, Ony.”

He pulled you down to where your nose was pressed to his pelvis—he groaned within your mouth, “That ain’t how you beg,” he grunts. 

“Please, Ony. Please.” 

He growled from the sound of your begging, “You want it that bad?”

You whined onto his dick, “‘So bad.” 

A smirk appeared across Onyankopons’ face. You could hear Toji’s slurrpp between your legs, still tongue deep along your pussy. But the moment he heard you begging from below, his mouth pulled away, leaving you cold. It had you whimpering at the loss.

But then, Onyankopon’s mouth was on you. And it was nowhere near the same. 

He wasn’t as soft as Toji. His long tongue swirled around your clit—you moaned again, feeling it slide against the flesh harshly. 

You gripped at his cornrows, legs shaking in his grip again, “Oh, Ony.” 

He lapped at your clit, “Can’t hear you,” he muffled. 

Toji was behind you now, holding your legs in place of Onyankopon. He moaned in your ear, “You look so good, baby, spread all open like that.” 

“I can’t,” you whined, “Put it in me.”

Onyankopon’s head dipped lower, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking. You were practically vibrating. You lean your head on your husband's shoulder, accepting the kiss he gives you, whimpers muffling into his mouth. 

“I love you,” you kept whimpering, “Love you so much, Fushiguro.”

“I love you,” he murmured back onto your lips, “I know.”  

Your body tensed the moment you felt Onyankopon’s tip sliding across your folds—you’d wanted it so bad, but actually feeling him weigh against your lower body, you shivered. His upper body loomed above your own as Toji stayed behind, Onyankopon’s lips coming to slide his tongue into your mouth, both men close to your face now. 

His dick is sliding between your folds again, again, making them spread apart every few seconds. His forehead presses to yours in such a domineering way—the silence that falls between the two of you feels heavy as his tip begins nudging into your opening—it swallows itself inside, your mouth immediately frowning at the discomfort you feel. Onyankopon sucks the softest kiss on your mouth, grunting as he sinks even deeper. Your eyes rolled, body trembling as you pressed your forehead farther into his. Your fingers found his upper back, nails digging into the flesh as your body responds in all different ways—but it was so good, the tiniest whimper parts from your lips as you lightly squirt on his tip. You’d never done that before, as you creamed more than anything. 

“Pussy tryna’ push me out,” Onyankopon grunts on your lips, moaning into another kiss, “That’s how you cummin’?” 

“Baby,” Toji moaned, “That was so fuckin’ good.  Ain’t even started yet,” he tugs your hair from your face, sucking his mouth against your throat. Your body shakes, gasping as tears seeped from your eyes. You whimpered to Onyankopon, “Oh my god.” 

You could hear yourself—you were whiny, sensitive and too full. You mewled again, feeling your stomach clenching as your eyes rolled back. Onyankopons’ face was dark, “You tight as hell,” pressing his forehead more into yours, “You gon’ open up for me?” 

A weak, “Uh huh,” comes from your lips. 

You could feel him trying to be steady, not wanting to hurt you, but at the same time, his eyes were hooded, lust within them—“Tryin’,” he murmured. His hips stilled for a moment as he slowly, gently slid more of his length deeper into you. You moaned, loud enough to echo off of the wall, “Ugh, fuck.” 

Your mind was going blank. His head fell back, “You takin’ me so good,” Your back kept arching, legs quaking. Toji was right there, caressing your scalp to soothe you. You were releasing sounds you’d never made before, moaning deeper each time Onyankopon pulled out to slide himself in more—the slap of his hips against the back of your thighs has your eyes rolling, your face screwed up in pleasure, nodding against his forehead as all you could do was cry for him.

Your legs were shaking too much, to the point Toji gave Onyankopon a glare, “Slow down.” 

Onyankopon gritted his teeth as if to focus, trying to not give in to all of the sounds you were making.

“Can’t,” he grunted—Your body kept squirming, legs spreading themselves more open for him, “F—fuck,” he cursed. He was grunting and moaning just as much as you were now. 

“Talk to me, Mama. I’m hurtin’ you?” Onyankopon gruffs at you. You find your hand at the nape of his neck, lips closer together—you mewl to him, “Feels sooo good,” your voice was soft, “‘M okay,” you promised to both of them.

Toji was trying to spread some comfort for you, “Look at me, breathe,” his voice was low, his hand reaching forward to touch your cheek. He gave you what you wanted; he leaned his face against your own, “Look at me, pretty baby. Breathe.” 

Your entire body listened to your husband’s commands. You took in a deep breath in response, your body calming a bit as he murmured sweetly against your face, “That’s it, good girl.”

A little easier to process with your husbands’ fingers caressing your cheek, you whimpered, “Please,” you whispered on his lips, “Don’t stop him.”

You spread your legs wider—your eyes rolled at the sensation, reaching your hand up to Onyankopon’s face to pull him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth.

Onyankopon growled, holding onto your chin so he could suck on your bottom lip. Toji’s thumb was wiping at your cheek, swiping away tears that you didn’t even realize you were shedding. 

He pressed his forehead back to your own, mouth still connected in a sloppy kiss, “Don’t move,” Onyankopon murmured against your face. You felt both mouths kissing somewhere along your body, and that pleasure could’ve engulfed you into an explosion. 

But oh, they had so much more to give. 

Maybe you did too. Your shaken legs had found themselves crawling along the bed, doe eyes becoming a sultry slender as you crawled towards your husband— your curls evaded your entire body as you slid your hands across his chest, grinding yourself along his lap to gain his attention—you tell him, “I missed you, baby.”

“Missed you too,” Toji murmured in return, unable to keep his eyes off of you. His large palm slid across your hips, another palm reaching around to smack his tip between your folds from behind. You giggled, hair swinging to one side of your body as you circled your hips atop of him, “You wanna put it in me?” 

Your hands slide across your nipples, making sure to keep Onyankopon’s attention as your hand finds the tip of his dick beside your body—you whimper to your husband, “Want you so much, Toji. Talk to me.”

Onyankopons’ hands found their way to your arms and shoulders, squeezing the flesh there—One of your hands reached up onto Onyankopons’ face, running your fingers against his facial hair, moving to slide your index finger onto his lips. 

“You been’ havin’ fun,” Toji grunted to you, “Come fuck me.”

“Always thinkin’ ‘bout you,” you moaned, your hands leaving behind Onyankopons’ face to slide back onto Toji’s shoulders. Onyankopon grunted, “She need’ you—Drippin’ all over the sheets and shit.” 

You’re guiding yourself down, sinking onto his dick in a way that has your husband leaning his head back onto the bed, clutching your hips within his palms. Toji’s groaning through full lips, eyes narrowing up to you as you’re already bouncing your ass down onto his abdomen. You giggle through a moan, leaning towards Onyankopon with angelic eyes, sticking your tongue out to await for his mouth.

Toji growled from below, “Look at you,” while Onyankopons’ hand pushed a few of your curls aside with a low chuckle, “Cute as hell.” 

Onyankopon’s tongue slithered within the confines of your mouth, hand sliding behind your neck to keep your face close to his—your attention went onto your husband, your hips rotating, circling above him—you take one of his palms, sliding it up your body as you suck his index finger into your mouth, moaning around it.

“Jesus,” Toji growled, “‘Gonna’ have me bust early, baby,” He grunted out, “Keep it up.” 

You shake your head, “Don’t wanna cum without you,” you whimper—so you lean back to your side, finding Onyankopon’s dick between your lips—you’re sucking, keeping your hips moving for Toji, but your attention elsewhere. 

Onyankopons’ hand was resting atop of your forehead, his fingers buried into your hair. You moaned around him again, one hand wrapped around his length and the other caressing Toji’s chest. Your husband was becoming more aggressive below you, his hands finding themselves beneath your thighs to guide you. 

He takes one hand to find your throat, snatching your face in his direction. He grunts to you, “I know you’re hearin’ me. Come fuck me, girl. Bounce on my dick like you missed me.” 

You have your attention fully on him now—you whimper, “Sorry,” all while you press your feet flat along the bed, tossing your hair along one side of your body as your palms pressed against his chest—your ass trembles each time it claps along his abdomen, a wetness drenching his flesh, the sight of you like hell wrapped up in beauty. 

“I love your dick sooo much,” you promised to him, ass clapping at this point, “Love you, Fushiguro,” you whimper, spreading your cheeks from behind, wanting him deeper each time you dropped down.

“I know you fuckin’ do.”

His palm spanks against your asscheek. It jiggles beneath the impact, Toji’s hands finding your hips again to hold you in place. 

“Keep fuckin’ me like that.”

Your legs were shaking as Toji’s hips moved to meet your own, bouncing you up and down himself. 

Onyankopon was behind you, finding his palms along your hips as he helped you—your eyes rolled, mewling as you allowed him to guide your body down. 

Your fingers found your clit below, shoulder shivering as Onyankopon licked up the back of your neck, “O—Ooh,” you moaned, “Please.” 

You mewled at both men, your body quaking as your hands slid up behind you, fingers grazing over Onyankopon’s hair. You sloppily slow your tongue in and out his mouth, tugging his head back as you whimper to him, “Put it back in.” 

You lean down to find Toji’s

mouth within a deep kiss, hearing his murmur of, “‘Go head, wanna watch you cum.”

Your curls draped across his chest as you tugged his dick from your folds, back arching as you grind your lower body for Onyankopon to take you from behind—you whimper to him, “Want it. ‘Want it, Ony.”

“Been patient,” Onyankopons’ husked, “Come drop that shit on me.” 

His hands found both of your asscheeks again, spreading them open. You moaned over your shoulder, the taste of your own skin delicious as he slid himself between your folds, deeper than he’d been before. The giggle you give is elated, eyes rolling as you’re messily bouncing your ass back onto his dick, you’re groaning, “Fuckkk.” 

“Good fuckin’ girl,”  Toji groaned from below, watching you take it from behind, “Greedy as fuck.” 

Onyankopon collected your hair beneath his fist, tugging you back gently while allowing you to fuck yourself onto him—he glares down, “You’ loud.” 

“You feel so good,” you couldn’t stop repeating, your hands pressed into Toji’s shoulders to lean back more, arching as you continued to take Onyankopon as deep as you could, “Feelssogood.” 

“Givin’ you what you been wantin’,” Onyankopon growled behind you, "Look how good you look takin’ this dick, pretty mama.” 

You tried to keep your eyes open, but each time you moved with him, pleasure was rising from somewhere deep within you that had your vision becoming blurry. You were drunk at this point. 

“You feel so good in me,” you repeated one more time—it’s the softest you’ve ever spoken, squealing in a way that your body showed exhaustion. You were just taking him now, Onyankopon’s dick becoming drenched in your cream. You pouted, sobbing lowly through your sniffles.

Neither of them had ever seen a reaction out of you like this—you were so sensitive, too sensitive, too open. Onyankopon pounded into your messy, soaking wet pussy from behind, “You gone. Takin’ my dick without even askin’ for it.” 

His palm slides along your neck, gently tugging your face back to look into his eyes—you could hear Toji’s grunt of, “So proud of you, baby.”

You sob softly in return again, keeping your eyes against Onyankopon’s as he tugs you back and forth—you’re so full of him, you can barely feel it anymore. Your voice was deeper, an inhale shaky in your throat, exhaled as you cried real tears.

You were so far gone. Toji’s one hand fisted the tip of his dick, other fingers running through your hair, giving you a gentle pull to keep your face from hiding. 

“How you feelin’, baby?” he keeps his voice low, gentle. 

You could barely speak—you were so busy crying from pleasure, your hands found his face as you whimpered through tears, “I’m gonna cum,” you trembled, “Gonnacum.” 

You were so beautiful like this. Crying and whimpering for them in such an exhausted state, so full that they were ready to cum with you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You gon’ cum all on me, Mama?” 

Onyankopon’s voice. 

You nod again, breathless, “Mmm-hmm,” through tears. Toji presses his forehead against your own, allowing you to respond any way you needed to. 

Toji pressed a small kiss onto your face, “Good girl. Keep goin’. Almost,” he encouraged you in the most gentle tone possible. 

Onyankopons’ breathing was a lot rougher now, the sound of his pelvis smacking against your ass filling the room. He was holding onto your hip with one hand, while the other held the back of your neck, watching his dick being coated by your cream.

You moaned between your tears, voice hiccupping with every pound he delivered. He kept mumbling words from above you that couldn’t decipher, but Toji was still there to calm you.

 The room was a chorus of skin against skin, your mewls getting even higher in pitch with how full you felt at Toji’s hands on your face—the warmth of his own cum spurted on your stomach— you were babbling, your body wilder, your toes curling. You squirt again, gasping into a rough kiss with your husband. Onyankopon’s tongue is sliding across your lower back, moaning as you feel a warmth in your pussy—he cums with you. 

Your body feels sore, as if you’d just ran a marathon. You quiver when Onyankopon pulls himself out, feeling the cum dripping from your pussy—and somehow, through everything you’d just done, that makes you bury your face within Toji’s shoulder, cheeks flushed as you masked your face. 

When your brain sobered over the events of the past couple of days, you still couldn’t believe it—Would it happen again? Was this a one time thing? Only the future could tell. 

As your round eyes glanced between both men, the only answer you received was a deep, low, chuckle.

And that’s how you ended up here.

[tojisteddy]

Ok but hear me out Simon and reader meeting on love island

a/n: lord knows I love love island

Okay but hear me out: Simon entered the villa as a bombshell and everyone is coupled up. But like, hes kinda too stand off-ish and awkward so none of the girls really like him :(.

Everyone but you, of course.

He takes the longest to pull you for a chat, but it’s not because you’re his last resort! you’re his dream girl in every way imaginable so he has to build up the courage to come talk to you! From your curves, the stretch marks he notices while your in his favorite bikini of yours (black), Sun dancing off your pretty skin, the way you move your curls off your shoulder— he’s head over shoes.

You’re more than casual at first, just letting him talk so you can go back to your partner, but you’re more than interested that he cooks for his younger siblings. How he genuinely likes walks in the parks, and playing with his dogs. It’s almost two sweet on your heart, you have to ask him what kind of food he likes to cook the best and your favorite parks to walk in.

Everyone thinks it’s just casual conversation. Simon picks another girl at first but after two more chats, hes still hung up on you. Always trying to get you to do something around the villa. Up until it’s recouple night where the girls choose. Everyone thinks your gonna go for James since you’ve still been talking to him but you’re standing around the pit, hands behind you back, heart pumping.

“This guy has caused a lot of chaos since being here, but it turns out, he’s just a sweet guy, and he opens up beautifully like a flower with time. He’s been so kind to me, fed me the best breakfast since I’ve been her, blushes so cutely— I can’t help but want to give him a chance.”

The camera cuts to James who is smiling at the ground, Simon on the other hand is neutral faced, then back to you, gorgeous as ever in a black dress.

“The guy I choose is…. Simon.”

There are gasps and wide eyes as Simon comes to your side, ears and neck red as ever when he kisses your cheek. You try your best not to contain your smile but can’t.

Everyone, even the viewers think you two are just doing it for the game. The girls try to get you to take it back before next recoupling, even talking behind your back. The guys get at Simon for “playing someone’s girl” but he ignores them. Calls them “fuckin children.” and “fucks the point ‘f bein a bomb shell if I don’t fuck a little thing up. And it’s gotta be little if I can fuck it up. He obviously didn’t fancy ‘er enough.”

But it’s the way Simon talks to you in the confessional that gets the UK to love the both of you.

“She’s a sweet girl, and she’s always encouragin’ me t’ go ‘nd talk more and that’s so not like me *laughs* but i-it feels right. Bein with her, talkin to her, kissing her. Every time I see ‘er I swear, I turn a shit color ‘f red. I hope that I’m makin her feel like I do too. We talk about everything together. I really do like her more than anythin.” And he does infact turn bright red which makes the girls at home squeal.

And the producer probably asks if he’d want to try exploring other people, “Fuck no, the other lads here- bloody hell— just stay ten feet. Me ‘nd that one are going to the ends of the earth.”

Edits start flying on every social media app, clips of you using the barley used pool, racing in the villa, Simon properly correcting your workout form, how Simon leans on you every time you’re together or the simple fact that the tattooed man can’t keep his eye off you when you’ve been away for too long.

Do you two win?

No, 2nd or 3rd place.

But you two are still the fan favorites, Simon is more reserved when it comes to your relationship and doesn’t usually post on social media— but he posts you, a few of your vacation spots, pictures of you sleeping on the couch. And you may do a live with Simon shyly sitting right next to you that fans snort up like coke. You two start a YouTube channel and it blows up but it’s more so you two cooking together, teaching each other new things and trying new things. Even have a few celebrity guests.

It’s cute, you’re the last couple from your season still standing lol. Most successful too.

a/n: I know @cameronsbabydoll had a love island post about Simon a while back! Definitely a inspo but I did my own thing. Thanks for the suggestion!!

[cece693]

hannibal with an autistic reader who cannot STAND wearing fancy clothes. they are decked out in the oversized hoodie and comfortable shorts every day no arguing

they will (metaphorically) try to tear their own or someone else’s skin of if they have to wear a collared shirt and slacks

they don’t mind hannibal wearing them, but absolutely will not wear that stuff themself

NO TIES PAST THE THRESHOLD

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader

The door of the townhouse creaked open. “Don’t.” you warned, pointing at Hannibal before he could even step a foot inside the threshold.

He arched an elegant brow. “Darling, I haven’t spoken.”

“You’re wearing the tie.”

Hannibal glanced down at himself. Charcoal gray suit. Crisp shirt, tailored to perfection. Tie—burgundy, silk, knotted immaculately. You stood there like a very stubborn cat in human skin—clad in an oversized hoodie with sleeves past your hands, and soft, frayed athletic shorts. Socks mismatched. Hair a mess. You were the picture of comfortable defiance.

“I’ve had a long day,” Hannibal offered. “Removing it seemed premature.”

You didn’t budge. Your arms folded. A twitch tugged at your mouth like you were this close to making that dramatic hissing noise he had, unfortunately, grown fond of.

“Alright,” Hannibal sighed softly, loosening the tie with a flick of his fingers. “But you do realize this is the only house in all of Baltimore where my sartorial dignity is stripped away like bark from a tree.”

“Cry about it.” you muttered, moving aside to let him in.

Hannibal stepped in, eyeing the neatly folded pile of “acceptable clothing” sitting on the armrest of the couch: a plain black t-shirt and some soft linen pants. His designated “housewear,” handpicked by you.

You tugged at your hoodie collar. “And before you ask—no, I will not dress up for dinner.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Hannibal murmured, eyes trailing over your form with quiet appreciation. “You look quite delectable as you are.”

The moment you saw his fingers twitch toward your cheek—still clad in his buttoned cuffs—you physically backed away and held up your hands like a traffic cop. “Touch me while you're wearing that wool blend, and I swear to God, Hannibal, I will go full exorcist mode.”

Hannibal stared at you. You stared right back. A beat passed. With a long-suffering sigh that was one part indulgence and two parts deep, dramatic tragedy, Hannibal began to unbutton his shirt. “I imagine Dante faced fewer trials descending into Hell.” he muttered.

“Dante didn’t have sensory issues and a partner with tactile defensiveness.” you replied, flopping backward onto the couch and digging for the remote. “He also probably didn’t have to deal with a boyfriend whose suits have pocket squares.”

“You wound me.”

“You’ll live. Now hurry up and change. I want to cuddle and I can feel that collar from across the room like it's made of broken glass.”

Hannibal disappeared into the bedroom. He emerged minutes later looking like a disturbingly handsome college professor on sabbatical—his hair still perfectly in place, but his clothing now reduced to a plain shirt and drawstring pants. You squinted at him.

“Are those from the pile?”

“Yes.”

“Did you actually wash them in fragrance-free detergent?”

“Yes.”

“No cologne?”

Hannibal tilted his head. “I sacrificed Creed Bois du Portugal for you.”

“Okay, now you’re just showing off.” You grinned and patted the space next to you. “Come. I need my cuddly cannibal.”

He sat beside you—gingerly at first, as though the couch offended his sensibilities. But then you threw your legs across his lap and buried your face into his now-soft shoulder, and everything quieted. Hannibal exhaled, his arms wrapping around you, no longer restricted by wool or tailoring.

“You are intolerable.”

“I’m perfect,” you corrected. “And so are hoodies.”

BONUS SCENE:

“Will you please—please—just wear the slacks?” Hannibal hissed. You stared at him, cradling your coffee like a judge. “We’re having diplomats over.”

“I don’t care if we’re having dinner with the Pope. I’m wearing this.” You gestured to your ensemble: a new hoodie with a cartoon raccoon wielding a sword, and gym shorts that were probably illegal in several upscale neighborhoods.

“They’ll talk,” Hannibal warned.

“Good. Let them. And when they ask you why your beautiful, brilliant boyfriend is dressed like an angry barista with trauma, you can say: ‘He doesn’t like the texture of stiff collars yet he’s still the smartest person in the room.’”

Hannibal opened his mouth. Closed it. Slowly nodded. Then poured you a second cup of coffee, and whispered, “I adore you.”

You smiled smugly. “Damn right you do.”

[happy-mokka]

I'll turn old next year (the big 5 is coming around the corner). I grew up watching all the classics with my parents, and it is safe to say that I am a top-shelf geek when it comes to movies. Watching black-and-white ones still makes me super nostalgic. But for reasons unknown, this gem somehow never made it to my screen. I really have no idea why, honestly.

So, it took me until last Christmas to finally watch it for the first time.

I more or less knew what I was going to get. Still, throughout the movie, I felt more and more being dragged into this profound sadness.

I am now even older than George Bailey was supposed to be in the story. I have way less to show-off on my side, what society deems to be the basic traces of a "worthy" life (your own family, partner, kids, a career, a shiny car, maybe even some kind of real-estate). So far, I haven't stood on any bridge yet ready to fly, but the movie got to me...big time.

Even when it was over, I didn't feel uplifted at all. Yes, it was all nice and a beautiful happy ending with lots of sugar coating. I also got the basic message. But the thought remained that the world back then was a simpler place, and I doubted that Frank Capra would've been able to write the same movie today.

Now, half a year later and after reading the previous post, I disagree with my younger self from 6 months ago.

Yes, the world is a different one today than it has been in 1946. People could afford a house from a single income and sustain a family and kids on the side (if you take the average middle-class as baseline). But still, it was a hard world back then. A terrifying world war had just ended, taking millions of lives. The Great Depression was not even 15 years in the past and still in the minds of most people. The atomic bomb and its potential to world destruction made its entrance, and the Cold War was already on the horizon. The understanding that the ruling upperclass got through life with much less struggle and by exploiting the rest of the population was just as present as it is today.

So, taking all this into consideration, the world back then was just as bad in most accounts as it is today (ok, minus climate change, yes), from the perspective of the average population.

Realizing this, I think that its message is still absolutely essential and agree to everything OP wrote.

Is it super cheesy at time? Absolutely!

Does this make it less true? Absolutely not!

Most of the time, for most people, life sucks. It feels like an endless struggle.

It is important that we stop once in a while, grab a snack, and let ourselves be reminded that it has its beautiful moments... a lot of them, actually, if we just look closely enough.

I guess it is time for a rewatch...

Pop culture reduces It's a Wonderful Life to that last half hour, and thinks the whole thing is about this guy traveling to an alternate universe where he doesn't exist and a little girl saying, "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." A hokey, sugary fantasy. A light and fluffy story fit for Hallmark movies.

But this reading completely glosses over the fact that George Bailey is actively suicidal. He's not just standing there moping about, "My friends don't like me," like some characters do in shows that try to adapt this conceit to other settings. George's life has been destroyed. He's bankrupt and facing prison. The lifetime of struggle we've been watching for the last two hours has accomplished nothing but this crushing defeat, and he honestly believes that the best thing he can do is kill himself because he's worth more dead than alive. He would have thrown himself from a bridge had an actual angel from heaven not intervened at the last possible moment.

That's dark. The banker villain that pop culture reduces to a cartoon purposely drove a man to the brink of suicide, which only a miracle pulled him back from. And then George Bailey goes even deeper into despair. He not only believes that his future's not worth living, but that his past wasn't worth living. He thinks that every suffering he endured, every piece of good that he tried to do was not only pointless, but actively harmful, and he and the world would be better off if he had never existed at all.

This is the context that leads to the famed alternate universe of a million pastiches, and it's absolutely vital to understanding the world that George finds. It's there to specifically show him that his despondent views about his effect on the universe are wrong. His bum ear kept him from serving his country in the war--but the act that gave him that injury was what allowed his brother to grow up to become a war hero. His fight against Potter's domination of the town felt like useless tiny battles in a war that could never be won--but it turns out that even the act of fighting was enough to save the town from falling into hopeless slavery. He thought that if it weren't for him, his wife would have married Sam Wainwright and had a life of ease and luxury as a millionaire's wife, instead of suffering a painful life of penny-pinching with him. Finding out that she'd have been a spinster isn't, "Ha ha, she'd have been pathetic without you." It's showing him that she never loved Wainwright enough to marry him, and that George's existence didn't stop her from having a happier life, but saved her from having a sadder one. Everywhere he turns, he finds out that his existence wasn't a mistake, that his struggles and sufferings did accomplish something, that his painful existence wasn't a tragedy but a gift to the people around him.

Only when he realizes this does he get to come back home in wild joy over the gift of his existence. The scenes of hope and joy and love only exist because of the two hours of struggle and despair that came before. Even Zuzu's saccharine line about bells and angel wings exists, not as a sugary proverb, but as a climax to Clarence's story--showing that even George's despair had good effect, and that his newfound thankfulness for life causes not only earthly, but heavenly joy.

If this movie has light and hope, it's not because it exists in some fantasy world where everything is sunshine and rainbows, but because it fights tooth and nail to scrape every bit of hope it can from our all too dark and painful world. The light here exists, not because it ignores the dark, but because the dark makes light more precious and meaningful. The light exists in defiance of the dark, the hope in defiance of despair, and there is nothing saccharine about that. It's just about as realistic as it gets.

[batsandbirdbrains]

I'm getting the vague idea of your YJ bullying au where, in addition to everything else, they also tease him for calling Batman 'My Bat' or 'My Batman" to the point he stops doing it and Bruce doesn't know why, but it does make him kinda sad to see His Robin not wanna call him 'My Bat' anymore, especially when Dick won't tell him why. Even worse, Dick starts asking that he doesn't call him 'My Robin' anymore.

He gives a vague explanation that someone might connect Batman calling Robin his to Bruce Wayne calling Richard Grayson his, but Bruce knows that's just some bullshitted excuse. Dick won't tell him, and he doesn't know how to pry without Dick getting upset. They've been fighting a lot more lately, and Bruce is getting worried that this is a sign Dick no longer wants to stay and be his son and partner in crimefighting anymore. That Dick is getting ready to leave him forever.

Meanwhile, Dick is getting bullied HARD by teammates who don't even know that they're bullying him because they're just slowly inching their way to getting worse and finding ways to justify it.

Even after it gets found out about and Dick leaves the tram, I don't think he calls Bruce 'My Batman' for a long, long time.

Let’s make it more heartbreaking. Dick doesn’t even realize he calls him “my Bat” so often. It’s just a habit. Maybe he uses it in place of “my dad” because he’s still not comfortable calling Bruce his dad. But it’s not something he thinks about. He barely realizes it happens, unless he’s doing it on purpose to be cute and to get something he wants.

So when the others mention wanting to hang out one weekend after training on Friday night? Robin just shrugs.

“Sorry, my Bat said we’re doing a stakeout all weekend. Penguin’s been up to something, and we finally got a lead on Tuesday.”

He doesn’t realize that most of his teammates are staring at him like he just grew a second head. He’s busy packing up his gym bag, chugging the last of his water bottle, then zipping up his bag to sling it over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you guys on Monday though! Have fun!”

Once he’s gone, Artemis is snorting and looking at them all with an eyebrow raised.

“My Bat?” she repeats, her voice a sarcastic drawl. “Have you ever noticed he does that a lot?”

“So what?” Conner asks, staring at the TV.

“So,” she scoffs. “It’s weird!”

“I’ve never really noticed it,” Conner mumbles. “Who cares?”

Artemis is about to start going on a rant, but Kaldur is the one who moves their attention to something else. He doesn’t like the thought of teasing a teammate and a friend when he’s not even here to defend himself. Besides, Kaldur thought it was an endearing habit. He’d heard Robin call him My Kaldur a couple times, and he’s almost certain Robin doesn’t realize he does it. And if he does, then he clearly doesn’t think it’s something unusual to do.

That next Monday, M’gann is giggling as she calls him My Robin. And at first, Robin looks delighted. His whole face lights up, but then he sees how M’gann is giggling and Artemis is smothering a laugh behind her hand and Wally is outright snorting, and he deflates entirely. He ignores them, moving on to whatever they were supposed to be doing while Black Canary went to get equipment for their next half of training, but Kaldur and Conner notice. They’re not happy.

Robin is helping Conner the next day with something in the gym. He’s explaining how Superman does something, because he’s certain it will help Conner. He says something along the lines of, “My Kal said if he does it this way, it works better. Do you think that would work for you, too?” Conner noticed it, but he doesn’t bring it up. There’s no point anyway, because the move Robin is explaining does actually work really well for Conner. They’re both grinning and high-fiveing each other ten minutes later after Conner gets the move right for the first time.

“We’re gonna be the next World’s Finest, you and me!” Robin is laughing wildly in delight, his hair windswept from the way Conner just tossed him around. “My Bat does that move with Superman all the time, we just need to perfect it!”

“We’ll get it in no time,” Conner agrees. He’s so pleased, because the thought of having a regular pair up with Robin is exciting.

“Course we will, you’re my supey, we’ll be even better than the old geezers soon enough!”

Robin is hopping around, rearranging the obstacle course they’d set up so they can practice with a new course.

Conner’s chest is warm and full, and he’s so so happy Robin just called him his like it was a given, like there wasn’t any doubt. Like he’s on par with Superman, his Kal. Like he actually believes Conner can live up to the expectations set by being Superman’s clone.

But then he hears snickering from just outside the gym, and he gets angry. Because of course the three stooges are outside listening in, waiting for any reason to make fun of Robin. They’ve been obsessed with making fun of Robin’s possessiveness. Conner still doesn’t understand why it’s funny.

A month later, Conner and Kaldur both are getting fed up with the way the others have been acting. Robin has retreated into himself entirely, he hardly speaks around them anymore. He shows up for training and missions, but he doesn’t stick around like he used to.

Neither of them have heard him call anyone his in three weeks. And they know exactly who’s to blame. They just don’t know what to do to stop it.

They’re walking towards the mission room when they hear Robin shouting, “Just stop calling me that!”

“Robin?” Batman sounds so hurt, so upset. They’ve never heard him sound like that. “What’s wrong?”

“Just stop!”

They walk inside just in time to hear the zeta tubes announce Robin’s departure. Batman, meanwhile, is standing there looking a little lost.

Maybe it’s time they talk to Batman about what they’ve been noticing.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Soaked - C.S

~"You taste better than anything else I've ever had..."

pairing: san x fem reader

genre: 18+, summer, model x model

summary: you and your man, san, decide to spend some time together at a private villa to celebrate one year of having your own luxury brand

wc: 1.9k

warnings: established relationship, model x model, dom san, soft dom san, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, pool sex, sex against a glass door, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!), alcohol use (they're tipsy nothing too serious, champagne), hair pulling, rough sex, moaning, multiple orgasms, worshipping, he's so so in love with her, teasing, some manhandling, he eats her out nicely on the ledge, completely consensual!, might edit later, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: I loved writing this ngl. Also, this fic is based... on a villa I saw yesterday while visiting the center of Makarska, the zone I'm visiting on my trip oops-. Croatia is so beautiful 😭 I love it sm, tomorrow I'm sadly leaving 👹 but I wanna come back for suuure

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The sliding glass door glides shut behind you with a faint click, sealing off the villa’s cool interior from the sea-scented dusk outside. A hush settles, soft and almost reverent, broken only by the distant caw of gulls and the subtle lapping of waves far below. The entire Adriatic spreads endlessly before you, cobalt turning lavender, then amber, like spilled ink slowly washing into fire. But your eyes aren’t on the view.

They’re on him.

San leans lazily against the whitewashed bedroom wall, just to the right of the open terrace. The fading sunlight kisses every curve of his chest, golden skin still slick from a recent shower, droplets tracking the lines of his collarbones, pooling briefly at the dip of his sternum before sliding lower. He’s wearing nothing but black swim trunks that ride low on his hips, clinging faintly to damp skin. Stray locks of wet hair curl against his forehead, and his gaze, half-lidded but unwavering, drags over you like a physical touch.

You shift, the white bikini you chose earlier feeling tighter under his stare, and not just because of the fit. He’s always had this effect on you. That silent possession. That unwavering attention that turns every breath electric. You’ve been with him for years, but somehow his gaze still makes your spine arc with anticipation.

“Come here,” he says, low, quiet, like a private sin passed between lips in church.

You walk slowly. Intentionally. The tiles are warm beneath your bare feet, and the straps of your bikini brush your skin with each step. He watches you with the kind of hunger that doesn’t need explanation, eyes lingering on the swell of your chest, the curve of your waist, the sheen of salt still clinging to your skin from your earlier swim in the sea. When you stop in front of him, he doesn’t touch you. Not yet.

His fingers hover just shy of your hips, teasing the air between you. Then, featherlight, he lets them skim beneath the band of your bikini bottom, dragging against your skin. His touch is slow. Measured. Like he's relearning you cell by cell.

“I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder. Not rushed, not showy, just lips against skin and a breath drawn like worship. “One year since we launched this crazy dream. And look at you now. My muse. My partner. My problem.”

You laugh, a soft, breathless sound that falters when his hands roam lower. “Don’t start. We haven’t even opened the champagne.”

His lips curve into a smile against your skin. “I’m not starting anything,” he lies. “Just touching what’s mine.”

-

Outside on the terrace, the world glows.

Sunlight bathes the horizon in gradients of apricot and soft rose, casting a golden shimmer across the glass-like surface of the infinity pool. The stone tiles beneath your feet still hold the heat of the day, and a warm breeze carries traces of jasmine and brine through the air.

You stand by the outdoor kitchenette, fingers curled around the chilled neck of a champagne bottle. You angle it, pop the cork, and watch as it fizzes over with a delicate hiss. San, behind you, lights two slim candles on the edge of the pool. The flames flicker against the dying sun, casting flickers of orange across his cheekbones.

He steps over, shirtless, barefoot, effortless. He takes a flute from your hand.

“To us,” he says, voice like poured wine. “To one year of turning our names into something bigger than just faces in campaigns. To the brand. To the blood and sweat. And to tonight, where I want you all to myself.”

You clink glasses.

The champagne dances across your tongue, sharp and cold and just sweet enough. The second sip goes down easier. The third, smoother. Your shoulders begin to drop. You’re relaxed, but charged, aware of every place his skin might brush yours, every glance that lingers just a bit too long.

San rests his hand on your lower back. His thumb slides beneath the delicate string of your bikini bottoms, tracing idle circles just above the swell of your ass. The contact is light, teasing, but precise.

“You always drink like that?” he asks, watching you over the rim of his glass.

You smirk. “Only when I want to get kissed.”

He leans in instantly, pressing a warm kiss to your temple. “Then I’m clearly not drinking fast enough.”

The mood between you tightens, not tense, but intimate. Familiar. Buzzing.

You glance toward the pool. “Swim?”

He raises a brow. “You first.”

-

The water is warm from the day’s sun, wrapping around your legs like silk as you descend the steps. Your bikini clings tighter now, soaked in seconds, and the world takes on an underwater hush, only broken by the ripple of your movements and the distant rhythm of cicadas.

The view is surreal. From here, the Adriatic seems to melt into the edge of the pool, sky and sea one endless sweep of rose gold and periwinkle. You float for a moment, watching the last sliver of sun kiss the horizon.

Then you feel him.

San slides in behind you, arms strong, slow-moving under the surface, gathering you against his chest. Your back presses into his torso, slick skin against slick skin. One of your legs floats up, his leg catching it effortlessly. You can feel him, hard, pulsing, a subtle pressure against your ass. His nose nudges your temple.

“You look like a fucking goddess,” he whispers, brushing his lips down your jaw. “And you’re making it very hard to behave.”

You turn around and your hands snake around his neck, fingers threading into damp hair. “Then don’t.”

The growl he lets out rumbles deep in his chest.

His mouth finds yours, and it’s everything. Slow but hungry, deliberate but dizzying. His tongue teases, his lips press and part and claim. Your toes curl under the water. His hands travel. one up your ribs, the other gripping your ass beneath the surface. He lifts you effortlessly, setting you onto the warm stone ledge.

The air hits your skin, suddenly, cool, but his mouth is already on your thigh.

The stone is smooth beneath your palms as you lean back. San stays in the water between your legs, eyes flicking up to yours like a man about to pray and then sin.

His hands part your thighs, slow and reverent, until you’re fully open to him. His lips trail up your leg, open-mouth kisses, tongue dragging in lazy circles until he reaches the place you want him most.

His mouth finds your cunt.

It’s soft at first, exploratory, savoring. Then deeper. Needier. His tongue flicks over your clit with tight, devastating precision, and your hips jerk.

“Oh my”

“Don’t hold back,” he murmurs, voice strained and dark with want. “I want to hear what I do to you.”

You don’t hold back.

Your moans echo into the warm air, mingling with the slap of water against the pool walls. San’s hands hold you open, unrelenting, as his tongue works you in slow spirals, then faster, hungrier. He groans when you tug at his hair, and the vibration pushes you closer and closer.

He flattens his tongue, circling your clit with a maddening rhythm. Then he dips down, sucking, licking, devouring like he’s desperate.

You come hard.

Thighs shaking, head tipped back, mouth open as you cry out his name. He doesn’t stop. He licks you through it, slow strokes, tasting, worshipping every twitch of your body. He only stops when your legs go slack and your hips try to pull away.

Then he pulls back, dripping and flushed, hair slicked back from his face. “You taste better than anything else I’ve ever had.”

You barely catch your breath before he pulls you in the water, back into his arms, back into his hunger.

He kisses you, deep and unrestrained. You taste yourself on his tongue. His hands roam beneath the water, cupping your breasts through the thin fabric, thumbs circling your nipples until they peak. His cock presses between your thighs, hot and heavy.

“Here?” you whisper, gasping.

“Please…” he says, teeth grazing your lip.

He lifts your leg and sinks into you. Slow, deep, agonizingly controlled. Every inch is a stretch, a drag, a claim.

You gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “San- ah”

The water shifts around you, each thrust sending little waves to lap at the pool’s edge. His movements are fluid but strong, slow at first, then faster, rougher. He fucks you like he owns you. Like he’s proving a point.

Your moans mix with his groans, the sounds low and needy, raw. He keeps you close, chest to chest, one hand gripping your thigh while the other cradles your lower back.

“God, baby,” he pants. “You’re so wet. So fucking tight. Made for me.”

Moments later he comes inside you, full-body quake, breath caught, thighs trembling. He kisses you through it, tongue sliding against yours as your body clenches around him.

But he doesn’t stop.

-

San carries you out of the water, gripping your thighs, walking barefoot across the stone floor. Water drips from your bodies, leaving a trail to the villa’s sliding glass doors.

He presses you against the cool glass, your back arching from the temperature contrast. His hand smooths up your spine, then grabs your hair, wrapping it tightly around his wrist.

He turns you.

“Stay just like that.”

You brace your palms against the door, panting, nipples hard against the glass. You see your own reflection, dazed, flushed, glowing. San watches too.

He thrusts into you hard.

The sound is obscene. Wet skin on wet skin. Your gasp fogs the glass.

“You want everyone on that fucking coast to see you like this?” he growls. “Want them to know who you belong to?”

His hand tugs your hair, arching your back. You whimper. His name breaks from your throat.

He pounds into you with a punishing rhythm, body crashing into yours, breathing a snarl in your ear. The glass rattles. His other hand slides up to your chest, fingers rolling your nipple until you sob his name.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grits. “Look at us.”

He slams into you once more, deep, relentless, and you unravel again, voice hoarse, body trembling.

He comes with a guttural groan, hips jerking, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he fills you to the brim.

He doesn’t let go.

Not right away. His chest presses to your back. His breath is hot against your ear. You both stand there, suspended in golden silence.

Eventually, his grip softens. He untangles his hand from your hair, smoothing it gently down your back.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

You turn to him. He gathers you close, cradling your face.

“Still mine?” he asks, almost too softly.

Your smile is sleepy but sure. “Always.”

The sun vanishes beyond the sea. The sky dims. Crickets begin to sing.

Inside the villa, San kisses you again. softer now. Slower. Less lust and more love. The kind of kiss you’d wait a lifetime for. The kind of kiss that tastes like home.

And for one long, sacred moment, the world feels still, his arms around you, and a love that feels bigger than heaven itself.

NETWORKS:

@illusionnet @mirohs-aurora-society @blossomnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@strawberry-mingi @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @memorabxlia @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @tahiraax1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou @lezleeferguson-120 @sopematesxx @joyfulcadence @puppytruther

[hala-love-blog]

I got time today, lets gooo

1. Youtube music

2. Its decent, bed not made and my towel is on the bed.

3. Dark brown eyes

4. Ive grown to love my real name

5. Im in a relationship of 6 years

6. Calm, cool, overthinker

7. Brown hair

8. Black durango

9. Shein, various boutiques

10. My style is cute and comfy with a little bit of hobo lol

11. Tumblr duh

12. Queen size bed

13. 3 siblings

14. I would love to live in Grenada.

15. The "no filter" filter lol

16. Any water proof mascara

17. At least 13, usually twice a day if i go outside

18. My current fave show is Animal kingdom

19. 8.5

20. 5'6

21. Sandal

22. Hecky naw

23. The perfect date would be out on a boat doing some wine tasting, then cooking naked together and of course some deep strokes lol

24. Nothing, let me hold something

25. None

26. 1 and stuffed animals

27. Im an entrepreneur. I have a merchandising business.

28. 2

29. Lmao im not that stupid to repeat it

30. Teakwood and mahogany

31. Khalil, Salih, Sebastian

32. Symone, August, Vernoda

33. Idk

34. Queen Latifah

35. Megan thee Stallion

36. Juno

37. Not anymore

38. Brains

39. Qua

40. Maybe 5 or 6 in my lifetime

41. This a whole nother conversation lol

42. I take my daily vitamins

43. Sometimes oily and sometimes dry, depends on the season

44. Snakes!

45. I already have beautiful boys, i dont want anymore

46. Definitely some braids

47. A townhome

48. Me

49. About my hair

50. Sent something to my business partner

51. 6, saw my mom wrapping gifts

52. I always wanted a custom range rover in purple

53. I only smoke weed, idc what anyone else do.

54. I did just start taking classes again

55. I dont dream of a job lol

56. Rural for sure, i want to sit on my porch naked and smoke a fattie

57. Hecky naw, that stuff dont work on my hair

58. Yes and moles

59. Of course

60. Over 1000

61. Hecky naw

62. For sure! Rocket power is one of my faves

63. Wendys

64. None

65. My birthday suit or some shorts

66. I have

67. I paint and play the game

68. I can sketch a little

69. No, i should learn though

70. Whatever tour b2k was on recently

71. Tea

72. Starbucks

73. Nope

74. A.C

75. Im not getting married

76. Purple, red and yellow

77. My mom and my old eater

78. Open

79. Hecky yeah

80. When ppl yawn without covering their mouth

81. My friend

82. Mint

83. Neither

84. Rainbow

85. Im wearing a moomoo right now

86. Me at a botanical garden

87. Im sort of outgoing

88. Depends on who it is

89. I dont know them

90. Twice daily

91. Im high everyday

92. Hecky yeah, good times

93. A grapefruit

94. Pussy like water, im unbothered and relaxing

95. Summer and ima still complain about the heat lol

96. I come alive in the night time

97. Dark

98. October

99. Leo

100. My gf

Unusual Asks

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? 

is your room messy or clean?

what color are your eyes?

do you like your name? why?

what is your relationship status? 

describe your personality in 3 words or less

what color hair do you have?

what kind of car do you drive? color?

where do you shop?

how would you describe your style?

favorite social media account

what size bed do you have? 

any siblings?

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?

favorite snapchat filter? 

favorite makeup brand(s)

how many times a week do you shower?

favorite tv show?

shoe size?

how tall are you?

sandals or sneakers? 

do you go to the gym? 

describe your dream date

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

what color socks are you wearing? 

how many pillows do you sleep with?

do you have a job? what do you do? 

how many friends do you have? 

whats the worst thing you have ever done? 

whats your favorite candle scent? 

3 favorite boy names

3 favorite girl names

favorite actor? 

favorite actress? 

who is your celebrity crush?

favorite movie? 

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? 

money or brains? 

do you have a nickname? what is it? 

how many times have you been to the hospital?

top 10 favorite songs

do you take any medications daily? 

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

what is your biggest fear? 

how many kids do you want? 

whats your go to hair style?

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) 

who is your role model? 

what was the last compliment you received?

what was the last text you sent?

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

what is your dream car? 

opinion on smoking?

do you go to college? 

what is your dream job? 

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? 

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? 

do you have freckles? 

do you smile for pictures?

how many pictures do you have on your phone? 

have you ever peed in the woods? 

do you still watch cartoons? 

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?

Favorite dipping sauce? 

what do you wear to bed? 

have you ever won a spelling bee?

 what are your hobbies?

can you draw? 

do you play an instrument?

what was the last concert you saw? 

tea or coffee?

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

do you want to get married?

what is your crush’s first and last initial?

are you going to change your last name when you get married? 

what color looks best on you? 

do you miss anyone right now? 

do you sleep with your door open or closed?

do you believe in ghosts?

what is your biggest pet peeve? 

last person you called`

favorite ice cream flavor? 

regular oreos or golden oreos? 

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? 

what shirt are you wearing? 

what is your phone background?

are you outgoing or shy?

do you like it when people play with your hair?

do you like your neighbors? 

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

have you ever been high? 

have you ever been drunk? 

last thing you ate? 

favorite lyrics right now

summer or winter? 

day or night? 

dark, milk, or white chocolate? 

favorite month? 

what is your zodiac sign

 who was the last person you cried in front of? 

[amya-da-dc]

Kidnaped and…kind of thriving

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Summary: When Talia al Ghul discovers that her son has a partner, she does what any loving, overbearing assassin mother would do—she kidnaps you.

You knew dating Damian Wayne would come with a few… complications. The Batfamily. The League of Assassins. The fact that he carried more knives than is physically possible for one person.

You wake up with cold stone under your cheek and an unmistakable headache pounding behind your eyes.

Which is… concerning.

Mostly because you went to bed in Gotham. In your own bed. In Damian’s hoodie. And this?

This isn’t your bed.

This is a marble floor.

You sit up too fast and instantly regret it. But even through the nausea, you take in your surroundings: ornate, ancient walls, tapestries older than most cities, a faint whiff of incense and iron.

This is some kind of League of Assassins stronghold. And if that wasn’t enough of a tip-off—

“She wakes,” comes a voice, cool and sharp as a blade.

Your stomach drops.

The shadows moved, and then she stepped into the glow. Elegant, poised, terrifying.

Talia al Ghul. Immaculate. Deadly. Green eyes like twin laser sights boring into your soul.

Damian’s mother, the resemblance was clear.

“You’ve been dating my son.”

Right. Straight to business.

You blink. “This seems like an extreme way to ask for my intentions.”

Talia raises a brow. “And yet you’re not crying.”

“Not yet, I still have time to pencil that in though, if you’d like.”

“Hm.” She circles you like a panther, examining you like a potential weapon or a bug under a microscope. “He didn’t mention you were brave.”

You stand up slowly, brushing off the dust. “Did he mention I don’t like being drugged and dragged halfway across the world?”

“No.” A thin smile, then a sadder one. “We don’t talk often.”

“…Cool. Cool cool cool. So this just another Tuesday for you?” You say, rather calmly.

She watched you with the faintest hint of amusement. “You’re not panicking.”

“I mean. I feel like panicking gives you the upper hand.” You shrugged, “Plus, totally not my first kidnapping.”

“You’re smart,” she said, leaning back. “Mouthy.”

You raised a brow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.” But the corners of her mouth twitched. “Let’s begin.”

“Begin what?”

She tilted her head. “The evaluation.”

“…Sorry?”

“The assessment,” she clarified, looking at you like you were slow.

“You’re evaluating me?”

Talia nodded once. “That is what I said.”

You gaped at her.

“I will not tolerate mediocrity.”

“Lady, I survived Thanksgiving with the Waynes. I’m already battle-hardened.”

“…You might actually be interesting,” she murmured.

You gave her a bland smile. “So glad I’m exceeding expectations.”

Damian Wayne is having the worst morning of his life.

You’re not answering your phone. Your location tracker is offline. Your building’s security footage shows a figure in black entering your apartment and disabling every camera in seconds.

“Where is she?!” Damian’s voice cracked like a whip across the Batcave, sharp with panic.

“Relax,” said Dick, holding up his hands. “She’s probably just—”

Damian pulls the last seconds of footage he has again.

Jason straightened. “Okay. Not great.”

“Who’d be stupid enough to kidnap your girlfriend?” Tim muttered. “Seriously. You’d think people would learn.”

Damian’s lips curled into a snarls he reviews the footage again.

He recognizes the silhouette.

Of course he does.

“Mother,” he growls under his breath, slamming his fist into the desk.

“You have guts,” Talia said, circling you like a lioness. “Most people don’t look me in the eye.”

You gave her a tight smile. “Most people haven’t dated your son.”

Talia paused. “And yet you still do.”

“Yeah. Crazy, right?”

“You know what he is,” she said quietly. “What he was trained to be. What he will become if he’s not careful.”

You nodded. “I do.”

“And still?”

“And still.”

She nods once, impressed. “I thought my spy was joking when he said you weren’t entirely useless.”

You raise a brow. “High praise.”

“Damian’s always been too sentimental. His heart is a weakness. He cannot afford attachments.”

You fold your arms. “And yet here we are.”

She watches you in silence for a long time. Then she stops in front of you, arms folded.

“What do you see in him?”

You blinked.

“What do I—what?”

“What. Do. You. See. In. Him.”

“…That’s your question?”

She arched a brow. “Answer it.”

You shrug. “He’s a lot. Arrogant, stubborn, overprotective.” You smile faintly. “And he’s loyal. Honest in a way no one expects. He tries so hard to be good, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

You took a breath. “I see someone who’s trying harder than anyone I’ve ever met. Who’s furious at the world but still gets up every day to protect it. Someone who’s never been shown how to love, but does it anyway—awkwardly, stubbornly, and fiercely.”

Talia stared.

“And he’s funny.” You smile, you could talk about him for hours. “When he wants to be. He pretends not to be, but he makes me laugh. And he listens. And I trust him. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”

You met her gaze. Didn’t flinch. “He’s still figuring things out. But he wants to do good, be good.”

“And you love him.”

“Yeah. I do.”

Silence. Long. Measured.

She studies you for a moment longer, then stands. “Walk with me.”

You follow her through the fortress. You expect dungeons. Traps. Hidden daggers.

You get all of that, but also… a garden.

It’s quiet, fragrant with night-blooming flowers. There’s a koi pond. It’s beautiful.

You sit on the edge of the stone bench. Talia watches you from the corner of her eye.

“Most people are terrified of me.”

“I am. Just not enough to let you see it. And for entirely different reasons then everyone else.”

That makes her laugh—an actual laugh, sharp and surprised.

“I see why he likes you.”

“You don’t hate me?”

That makes her laugh—an actual laugh, sharp and surprised.

“I see why he likes you.”

“You don’t hate me?” you ask again, not quite joking.

Talia tilts her head, eyes narrowing in thought. “I don’t know you well enough to hate you.”

“That’s… comforting.”

“But I don’t not like you.” She pauses. “Which, for me, is practically affection.”

You relax slightly. “Well. Thanks for that.”

“I doubted you,” she admits, brushing an invisible thread from her sleeve. “Still do, a little. But that’s habit, not certainty.”

You meet her gaze, steady. “I’d be more worried if you trusted me right away.”

She turns to you.

“If you ever hurt him—”

“I won’t.”

“—I will burn your city to the ground.”

“That seems fair.”

Talia tilts her head, considering you like you’re a rare artifact she’s not sure belongs in her collection.

After a long time of staring, she turns back to the pond and stares some more. Finally she speaks. “I trained him to be invincible,” she says, almost to herself. “He chose to be human.”

You glance at her. “You sound proud.”

She doesn’t respond for a moment.

“I am.”

Damian runs through the halls of the LOA’s homebase, fear in his veins. The League doesn’t take prisoners unless they’re valuable. And to Damian, you are irreplaceable.

By the time Damian found you — thirty-six hours since you’ve been taken, hair askew, cape torn, blood on his sleeve and hell in his eyes — you were sitting on a velvet couch, sipping tea and laughing at something Talia said about Ra’s al Ghul’s disastrous attempt at karaoke in 1987.

Damian froze in the doorway.

“You’re alive,” he said flatly.

You waved. “Hey, babe. I made a friend.”

He crossed the room in quick strides and cups your face, looking you over for anything even as small as a scrape.

“Beloved,” Damian breathes, face etched in panic.

“I’m fine!” you laugh. “Tea was nice.”

He ignores the comment. You barely have time to move before his arms are around you, pulling you in tight. Too tight. You feel his breath shudder.

“I thought—” he starts, then bites it back. “Did she hurt you?”

You shake your head. “Surprisingly? No. Just intense staring and very pointed questions.”

Damian takes a breath and stares at you a moment before he whirls to face his mother. “How dare you—”

“Relax,” Talia says mildly. “She passed.”

“She’s not a test—”

“She’s yours,” Talia interrupts. “Which means she matters to me.”

He falters. You touch his shoulder gently.

“I like her,” Talia says, and Damian freezes like someone hit pause on his brain.

“…You what.”

“Damian,” you cut in, watching him go through the five stages of grief. Skipping Acceptance and going straight to contemplating mind control. “it’s fine. Really. We bonded.”

“…You…bonded.”

“She’s funny when she’s not threatening.”

“She has spine. Wit. Taste.” Talia’s smile is a slow curve. “She reminds me of myself.”

Damian blinked like someone had replaced his entire universe with a sitcom.

“I am… leaving,” he announced.

Talia watches as your pulled away by your boyfriend. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

——-

And that’s how your Tuesdays started changing.

Every other week, you meet Talia for lunch. Sometimes sushi. Sometimes rooftop garden tea. Once, she took you hawking in the mountains.

She teaches you knife techniques. You teach her how to use emojis properly.

She taught you pressure points. You taught her how to use TikTok.

She critiques your posture. You critique her people skills.

She’d ask about Damian. You’d tell her how he once got stuck in a vending machine trying to retrieve a rogue Batarang.

She laughed. Real laughter. The kind that made waiters pause.

It was nice. Weird. But nice.

You’ve found a rhythm. It’s strange. It’s unexpected.

But every other Tuesday, you and your boyfriend’s assassin mother get lunch.

And somehow, that’s not even the weirdest part of your life.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Actinopterygii - Syngnathiformes - Jul 21

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Order: Syngnathiformes

Common Name: no common name for the collective order

Families: 11 - Pegasidae (“seamoths”), Solenostomidae (“ghost pipefishes”), Syngnathidae (“seahorses”, “pipefishes”, and “seadragons”), Aulostomidae (“trumpetfishes”), Fistulariidae (“cornetfishes”), Macroramphosidae (“snipefishes”), Centriscidae (“shrimpfishes”), Dactylopteridae (“flying gurnards”), Mullidae (“goatfishes”), Callionymidae (“dragonets”), and Draconettidae (“slope dragonets”)

Anatomy: generally elongate, narrow bodies; most have small, tubular mouths; some are “teardrop-shaped” with goby-like mouths; many utilize camouflage via cryptic coloration and/or overall shape; in many species the males house fertilized eggs in an osmo-regulated brood pouch, or adhere them to their tail

Diet: small invertebrates, small fish

Habitat: oceans worldwide, usually close to the sea floor or camouflaged in seaweed or coral; a few species live in freshwater

Evolved in: Late Cretaceous

Propaganda under the cut:

This order contains many of the most beautiful marine fish in the world.

Seamoths (family Pegasidae) and Flying Gurnards (family Dactylopteridae) (image 3) have large, wing-like, pectoral fins, as well as modified pelvic fins that allow them to "walk" across the sea bottom.

The Ornate Ghost Pipefish (Solenostomus paradoxus) (image 1) has a large range of colors and appearances, allowing them to camouflage against their chosen host. They will choose a gorgonian, coral, crinoid, hydroid, algae, floating weeds, or seagrass bed that complements their coloration, and live most of their life hiding next to it. Ornate Ghost Pipefish can be yellow, orange, pink, white, red, deep brown, crimson, yellow, black, or any combination of these pigments.

The Broadnosed Pipefish (Syngnathus typhle) has quite complex mating rituals. Females compete over males. Both sexes actively court one another for mating, and will seek out larger mates, but courting is more frequent in females. The prospective pipefish will perform a ritualized dance for their chosen mate, involving conspicuous wriggling and shaking motions. If the other is receptive, the two align and continue the dance together until the female delivers her eggs into the male's brood pouch via an ovipositor. Broadnosed Pipefish are polygynandrous, and both males and females will mate with multiple partners during a breeding season. One to six females can contribute to each brood clutch, which is the highest rate of multiple maternity in all of the pipefish species.

Leafy Seadragons (Phycodurus eques) are the marine emblem of the state of South Australia and a focus for local marine conservation.

The Ruby Seadragon (Phyllopteryx dewysea) is a little-known cousin of the Weedy Seadragon (Phyllopteryx taeniolatus), and was first described in 2015, making it only the third known species of seadragon, and the first to be discovered in 150 years. It is assumed that the Ruby Seadragon normally lives at depths beyond normal scuba range and diving limits, which may explain why it went undiscovered for so long. It’s red coloration likely allows it to camouflage in deeper waters, where red hues are absorbed more efficiently. It also has a prehensile tail, while other species of seadragon do not. It is unknown if Ruby Seadragons developed this trait or if the other species lost it over time.

Seahorses (genus Hippocampus) (see gif above) and Pipefish (subfamily Syngnathinae) have a unique feeding mechanism, known as elastic recoil feeding. Although the mechanism is not well understood, seahorses and pipefish appear to have the ability to store energy from contraction of their epaxial muscles (used in upward head rotation), which they then release, resulting in extremely fast head rotation to accelerate their mouths towards unsuspecting prey.

Seahorses have very simple digestive systems that lack a stomach, so they must eat constantly to stay alive. They ambush prey (mysid shrimp, copepods, and other small crustaceans) that floats within striking range, while wrapped around seaweed or coral with their prehensile tails.

Seahorses do not have scales, but rather thin skin stretched over a series of bony plates, which are arranged in rings throughout their bodies. The armor of the bony plates protects them against predators, and because of this outer skeleton, they no longer have ribs.

Seahorses swim upright, propelling themselves using their dorsal fin. Seahorses and Razorfish (Aeoliscus strigatus) are the only fish that are known to swim vertically.

Bycatch causes high cumulative effects on seahorses, with an estimated 37 million individual seahorses being killed annually over 21 countries. Seahorse habitat, such as coral reefs and seagrass beds, are also deteriorating due to human activity impacts, such as bottom trawling. They are also caught for the aquarium trade, sold dried in tourist giftshops, and caught for use in traditional Chinese medicine, primarily in connection with impotence, wheezing, nocturnal enuresis, pain, and labor induction. Import and export of seahorses has been controlled under CITES since May 2004, however, Indonesia, Japan, Norway, and South Korea have chosen to opt out of the trade rules set by CITES.

The Dwarf Seahorse (Hippocampus zosterae) is the slowest-moving Actinopterygiian, with a top speed of about 5 feet (1.5 m) per hour.

The Atlantic Trumpetfish (Aulostomus strigosus) is considered a "follower" fish in that it will swim with schools of other species of fish, especially large, herbivorous fishes, for both protection and to exploit foraging opportunities. Parrotfish are a common herbivore Atlantic Trumpetfish will align their bodies against.

Snipefish (family Macroramphosidae) have a unique elastic recoil-powered feeding mechanism, similar to that of seahorses and pipefish. This mechanism enables them to rotate their heads rapidly to capture prey in as little as 2 milliseconds. High-speed video and dynamic data indicate that the power required for head rotation in snipefish exceeds known vertebrate muscle capacity, suggesting that the movement is not solely muscle-driven.

Goatfish (family Mullidae) (image 2) are characterized by two chin barbels (or goatee), which contain chemosensory organs and are used to probe the sand or holes in the reef for food

Goatfish have the ability to rapidly change color, and many species adopt a pale coloration when resting on the sand to blend with the background and become less visible to predators. These changes can happen within seconds, many times during the lifespan of an individual.

The Mandarinfish, or Mandarin Dragonet, (Synchiropus splendidus) (image 4) and the Picturesque Dragonet (Synchiropus picturatus) are the only two vertebrate species known to have true blue colouring because of cellular pigment. The blue coloration on other “blue” vertebrates is structural, as it is produced from thin-film interference from piles of flat, thin and reflecting purine crystals. The bright coloring of these fish is aposematic, warning predators of their smelly and bitter slime coat. Why these fish needed to have their own true blue pigment to do so is unknown. They’re just extra like that.

[crazykinkiwi]

Yours, Right? | Crazy Oneshots

Pairing: Baby Saja × Reader

Genre: Psychological Romance, Dark Romance, Yandere / Possessive Partner, Domestic Angst, emotional manipulation, reader normalization of toxic behavior

The album had finally dropped.

You were up and out the door before lunch, slipping through crowds with your hoodie up and heart fluttering. You always supported Baby’s group—but now that you were dating him (secretly, of course), buying the album felt more like a ritual. A quiet little way of cheering him on from the shadows.

The store was already buzzing with fans, some recording videos of unboxings, others squealing over random pulls. You smiled politely and kept your head low. When you found the display, your fingers trembled just a little as you picked up the album box—sleek, black, embossed with their signature silver symbol.

You knew what came next: the sticker cards.

There were five total—one for each member. The thrill of mystery made you giggle as you opened the sample bin and flipped through the stickers on display.

“There you are, you dramatic little gremlin,” you murmured, spotting Baby’s sticker card. He looked smug in it, all attitude and eyeliner and slightly parted lips. You snorted. “God, you’re such a brat.”

Still, you grabbed his first.

And then… your eyes caught Jinu’s card.

His was the opposite—laid-back, charming, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips as he half-lounged with his abs showing, all casual and effortless. The fans loved him. And… you had to admit, the card was pretty. For collection purposes, of course.

“Why not,” you whispered, slipping his card into the pile too.

You paid and headed home with a light heart, snacks in one hand and the album bag in the other.

The moment you opened the door, you heard a familiar whiny voice from the living room.

“Where were you?” Baby’s voice rang out like a petulant child. He was sprawled across the couch, phone in hand, pout already forming. “Is it okay for you to keep me waiting like this?? I’ve been bored for hours!”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a grin.

“Geez, dramatic much? I went to get the new album,” you said, holding up the bag.

“Huh?” His eyes perked up. “It’s out already?”

He shot up from the couch like he’d been electrocuted, tossing his phone to the side. You handed him the album, chuckling.

“Yeah, yeah. Here, I’m gonna get something to eat real quick.”

“Hmph, I bet I look amazing. I better be the best card—”

You were already heading to the kitchen, but you could hear him flipping through the stickers, humming smugly under his breath.

“Tch. Obviously, I’m the best-looking one. Look at this jawline. Look at me.”

You smiled to yourself, fondness bubbling in your chest.

He’s so cute sometimes…

Your bag was still on the couch, the extra sticker cards partially visible—just tucked between the folds of the receipt and album sheet. You didn’t think twice about it.

But he did.

By the time you returned with snacks, Baby was sitting completely still, the sticker cards fanned out in his hand. His fingers trembled slightly, and his lips were no longer curved into a smirk.

“Move…!” you said playfully, nudging him with your hip. “I wanna see too!”

He didn’t budge.

“See what?” he muttered, voice tight. “Some other man’s abs? Some thirst trap you just had to buy?”

You blinked, the smile falling off your face.

“...What are you talking about?”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours—wide, glossy, not angry but panicked. He stood abruptly, pointing to one of the sticker cards.

“This!” he shouted, voice cracking. “You bought this one! Why!?”

You looked at the card.

Jinu’s.

“Wait… it’s just a sticker—”

“Don’t you love me anymore!?” Baby’s voice rose with sheer desperation, words tumbling out too fast. “Or do you love him now!? Is that it!? You like his face? His stupid abs? You think he’s better than me?!”

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Oh.

Right.

How could you forget this side of him?

---

It had started as a joke, back when the two of you first got involved.

Tiny tantrums. Harmless teasing.

“Who’s your favorite, hmm?”

“You’d pick me in a heartbeat, right?”

“You better not be looking at anyone else…”

But it got worse.

If you hesitated even a second, the smile would fall off his face.

If you joked back—said another member’s name just to mess with him—he would snap.

He’d yell.

He’d cry.

Once, he dug his nails into your wrist so hard it left crescent marks for days.

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“Are you tired of me!?”

“Tell me the truth!”

And yet… once you calmed him down—once you whispered soft reassurances, kissed the tears from his cheeks—he’d melt like nothing happened.

“I’m sorry,” he’d mumble, curling into your lap.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You do love me, right…?”

You were used to it now.

Or maybe numb.

A/N: Part 2? Yeah I'mma tease you as well

[stayevildarling]

what about prentiss x reader smut in public, like a quickie, g!p prentiss

Emily Prentiss x Reader- Guess

A/N: thank you for this request🤍 haven‘t written in ages, specifically smut so if this is shit I apologise.

tw/tags: established relationship, g!p emily, blowjob, semi public sex, lots of praising, reader recieving, emily recieving

word count: 2.7k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00, @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay, @laavaagil, @wtfffisgoingon

The day had began like any other, you worked from home, waiting for Emily to finish being her usual section chief self at the BAU. You tried distracting yourself by focusing on your own work even if you weren‘t scheduled at the office today. But when the afternoon rolled around, you began growing a little bored and so you distracted yourself with some cleaning and washing up before a text stopped you from spiraling further into the boredom of not having your partner around.

Em❤️: hey babygirl, sorry need you tonight for dinner at rossi with the others. promise I‘ll make it up to you on the weekend. pick you up in two ok?

You: you better 🥲

Em❤️: promise, love you💕

And so you stopped what you were doing and focused on getting ready, showering first before laying out an appropriate outfit. You went for one of your „everything“ showers in the end, focusing on shaving because why not. When it came to choosing your outfit you were conflicted for a good minute because usually dinner at Rossi‘s with Emily‘s other coworkers meant casual but not too casual. And as autumn finally rolled around, you decided on some high waisted shorts, your black heart tights to match, doc martins as well as a nice plain tshirt and your slightly oversized Carhartt jacket. You added little details like your favorite rings and necklaces and as you check your outfit one more time in the mirror before heading outside to wait for Emily, you feel content, appropriate for the occasion.

You barely wait two minutes before your girlfriend‘s black car comes into view and you head to the passenger door before sliding in. Your eyes catch Emily‘s, her grey hair reflecting in the car, the same suit she had been wearing since you watched her leave this morning after breakfast, her gun and badge still around her waist. „Hi“ you greet her before leaning over to kiss her but god- Emily cannot focus on what you are doing or saying as she takes in the view of her perfect girl. „Good god, you decided to go full lesbian tonight?“ she smirks before you roll your eyes. „Hello to you too Em“ you sigh, before she quickly snaps out of it and leans in to press a soft lingering kiss to your lips.

It takes her a minute to start the car, so lost in the image of you but when she finally snaps out of it, you both fall into easy conversation as she checks in how your day was and what you got up to. The drive to Rossi‘s doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes and when she pulls into the familiar driveway, you carefully open the door before she comes rushing out of hers to open yours fully and take your hand. You smirk slightly at her antics before taking her hand and following her inside. Your eyes sweep over the familiar faces as you recognize the host and several other agents from Emily‘s unit. „Hi Y/N“ they all greet you in unison and you smile politely before falling into easy conversation with them as Emily watches you, her hand protective on your lower back as she stays close.

It barely takes a few minutes before someone passes you a glass of wine and you take it before your eyes flick to Emily for permission silently. She wasn‘t controlling by any means but your girlfriend had always been so damn protectice of you and these things became a habit by now. She sublty nods before you slowly lead the glass to your lips and take a sip. „Dinner‘s nearly done“ Rossi calls out before Emily leads you to the large dining table where you had sat at multiple times before. You were usually shy with these sorts of things but you always swallowed it down for Emily, knowing this team and her work were so damn important to her, her team in a way her family and so you played the part, talking to the others, asking all the right questions, cracking jokes and refilling peoples glasses, complimenting dinner and just being exactly what Emily needed you to be.

When dinner is served and you begin eating, you somehow can‘t focus on anything they are saying, even though its mostly boring case stuff. Your eyes keep drifting back to your girlfriend, the way her fingers go to her wine glass and back to her cutlery. How her tongue swipes over her lips after having a sip of wine, how her eyebrows dart together when she talks, how her eyes light up, how her knee brushes against yours. You can‘t stop staring at her hands, thinking about how she usually has them wrapped around your throat at this time of the night. You can‘t stop staring at her mouth and how she would usually attack your neck in kisses and both tease and praise you to death at this time.

And god- when you peak under the table and see that faint bulge- you choke on your food for a good second before composing yourself. Her eyes immediately dart to you in concern before her hand travels to your back „You good darling?“ she asks before you nod, completely lost in thought. „Is everything okay Y/N? you have barely touched your food“ Rossi tries, usually knowing you to be more cheerful and present with them. „No- yeah everything is fine, dinner is so good thank you“ you quickly compose yourself but sitting in a room with fbi profilers isn‘t exactly in your favor right now.

The rest of them carry on eating and falling back into easy chatter but Emily‘s eyes stay on you, in concern. She leans in a little, before whispering „What‘s wrong sweetie?“. Your breathing hitches as you swallow down the lump in your throat. „I-" you start whispering but stop yourself. „It‘s no big deal Em, sorry“ you whisper but when her hand finds your leg under the table you know she takes this serious always, noticing how uncomfortable you are, blissfully unaware whats actually bothering you. „Tell me baby“ she whispers and that does it. „I need you now Em“ you whisper, making sure no one can hear or sense anything. Her eyes widen as she feels her throat closing up in surprise.

„Need me how?“ she whispers, thinking she may have heard it wrong. „Guess“ you whisper before she feels that familiar twitch between her legs. Emily clears her throat before carrying on eating, absolutely torn between what you just said to her and staying polite. You finish the rest of your food before you clear your throat „Just gonna use the bathroom“ you say politely with a smile before they all give you a nod. „You know where it is?“ Emily asks and you smile at her, completely ignoring her cue on purpose. „Yes, been here before Em“ you wink at her before walking away, your hips swaying a little which makes her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

You barely make it upstairs to the large guest bathroom, which in reality really should be a bedroom given the size, before trying to close the door, but firm ringed hands stop you. „Really?“ Emily asks with a raised brow and you just shrug innocently. „What? I need to pee?“ you smirk before she pushes the door open so fast you stumble backwards. It shuts with a soft click before you see her locking it so fast. „So.. you need to pee? go on then“ she says in that tone that makes your stomach flip. You just stand there, staring at her presence for a second and god, you can already feel the heat pooling between your legs, even more than it had been all during dinner. „What don‘t be shy- pee“ she commands but you look away.

„I don‘t“ you swallow hard but she cuts you off before walking towards you. You walk backwards until your back hits the sink. „Let me guess. you don‘t need to pee, you just hoped I‘d follow you up here to take care of you“ she whispers before a tiny smirk twitches at the corner of your lips. „But you did, didn‘t you? follow me up here?“ you say boldly. And that does it, she closes the small gap between you, before her hands surge forward towards your cheek and her mouth clashes with yours, hard. There is no usual softness in it, just filled with heat and dominance and a hint of disapproval. She swallows down your moans as she fiercely attacks your mouth, her tongue entering and fighting for dominance in seconds.

„You‘re gonna pay for this babygirl“ she whispers as she presses a long lingering kiss to your neck. And then she steps away a little before unbuckling her belt and pulling her trousers and boxers down, exposing her already hardened cock. You swallow hard before meeting her eyes and you both know there isn‘t a lot of time and so you sink to your knees almost immediately, looking up at her one more time before your hands gently close around it and lead her length to your mouth. You don‘t even waste any time, taking her fully as you swallow and suck, causing her head to throw back in pleasure as she bites her bottom lip to stiffle the sound, even though no one could probably hear it all the way from downstairs.

„Don‘t- don‘t stop“ she hisses as her eyes close and you carry on sucking her with practiced ease until you feel the familiar twitch and let go with the smallest pop sound. Emily is on you immediately, lifting you up and sitting you on the large sink before her hands travel to your shorts and pull them down along with your tights. She fumbles in her suit pocket for a condom, but you swat her hand away before murmuring „Em- I don‘t care“. And she stares at you then, fully disbelieving stare as her hand travels to your core one time to check just how wet for her you already are. And god you aren‘t wet, you are dripping and warm for her. „Such a slut“ she tuts before closing the gap and alliging herself. The tip barely touches your entrance before her mouth is back on you, your lips, your neck, your ears.

„You are such a needy little thing“ she whispers before you nod into her desperately. „Please Em“ you moan before she chuckles lowly. „Try again“ she whispers before you correct yourself „Please mommy“ and that does it. She pushes into you and your head immediately falls back in pleasure as your back hits the large mirror of the sink and her hands grip your legs to make you take her entire cock. „God“ you whisper and Emily is obsessed with your face, your eyebrows darting together in pleasure, your mouth hanging open and droplets of sweat already beginning to form on your forehead. „We gotta make this quick baby“ she whispers before she looks at you, really looks at you and when your eyes meet her, full of that hunger, that permission and equally begging, she loses it a little.

„Fuck“ she pants before her hips slam into you at full pace. Her hands reach for the sink to turn the water on as the only sound in the room are your quiet moans and the sound of skin slapping and your wet pussy. „That good baby?“ she whispers and you can‘t even talk, nodding frantically as she hits all the right spots inside you, hitting you so deep, the angle perfect to make you both feel everything. It doesn‘t even take long, a few more frantic hip movements before Emily pulls back in the slightest, her cum threatening to leak any second. But you don‘t care anymore, you wrap your legs around her hips which causes her to stay right there with you. „Baby- I can‘t - hold it“ she moans breathlessly before you lock eyes with her.

„I don‘t care Em- fuck me like you mean it“ you whisper with wide eyes which causes Emily‘s heart to pound in her chest as your words settle in fully. Things between you both had never been vanilla but damn this was new. „Cum inside me mommy“ you whisper as you pull her closer to kiss her. „I want you to fill me up, I wanna take every last drop“ you whisper breathlessly before your girlfriend loses all sort of composure she had. She stares at you in disbelief before adjusting herself and really slamming into you. She had never fucked you this hard before but the thought of filling you up had intrigued her for the longest time. „Oh god“ you moan, when you feel her cock twitch inside you and feeling so much bigger and fuller than usual.

„Ready to take me baby?“ she asks one more time and when you nod more frantically, she lets go, completely falling apart inside you as her warm cum fills your insides. And god you are seconds behind as that newfound sensation sends a jolt through you. Emily has to hold you through it as your whole body starts shaking, your legs tensing harder around her hips as your orgasm washes over you. She feels it in the way you are leaking onto her, your pussy so full with your own cum mixed with hers. You are both breathless as you come down from your high, your whole body tilted towards Emily as she holds you both up.

„That was amazing baby, you took me so well“ she whispers as she presses a proud kiss to your cheeks. Your eyes are still closed, the sensation so overwhelming you can barely breathe, let alone think right now. And of course she notices. She is so gentle as she pulls out of you, making sure not to hurt you before grabbing some tissue and cleaning herself up before getting dressed. Next she grabs some more and uses warm water before kneeling „I‘m just gonna clean you up okay sweet girl?“ she says, but you are completely out, leaning against the mirror with your back. You twitch a little when you feel the warm sensation but don‘t complain as she washes you, steadies you and helps you get dressed again.

She sits you on the edge of the bathtub, before getting a cool cloth and wiping your faces, brushing some strands of hair between your ear. „You with me baby?“ she whispers and you blink before nodding. „You did so good“ she smiles before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips „Such a naughty, slutty girl, but you took me so well“ she praises. „And once we‘re home I‘m gonna reward you for being so damn good“ she whispers which gets you snapped out of your little sleepiness at the promise of more tonight. She glances at the time, realizing barely ten minutes went by despite it feeling like a lifetime. She steps into your arms before giving you a tight squeeze and making sure you both look presentable in the mirror.

„I‘m gonna head downstairs first, come out in a minute, I‘m gonna tell them you felt a bit sick from the wine“ she whispers before you nod with a cheeky smile. „Gonna have to say the wine, otherwise Rossi will blame the food“ she teases which gets a little chuckle out of you. She nods one more time before heading to the door and whispers „I love you so much my sweet girl“. You smile and when the door shuts behind her, you take a deep breath, because damn, you can‘t deny you wanted this but you never thought she‘d go through with it here, let alone it being this good. You stare at the time before heading downstairs again, ready to play the part of the good obdedient girlfriend again but the excitement for more tonight lingers.

[pinkolve]

Barbarian- Eddie Munson ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Summary: Eddie comes up to you, noticing you don't have anywhere to sit. You become good friends, but what happens when he realizes you aren't who you appear to be?

Genre: Fluff, angst if you squint realllyyy hard, kind of violent?

CW: Fem!reader, D&DNerd!Reader, Alternative!Reader, second person point of view, use of Y/n, Reader is very violent and crashes out on a jock (I hate when Y/n's are all sweet and innocent and 'baby' so I made this one a total bad bitch, but she does have sweet qualities...She's just a nice person who isn't afraid to be a bitch when she has to basically), Reader has hair long enough to tie up, Reader is described as shorter than Eddie, kind of awkward writing? That's basically it I think.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I have a feeling this may be kind of cringy at some points? Either way it's still a pretty good fic. (Reader's D&D characters are based on my own...I didn't feel like coming up with completely knew characters on the spot.)

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You finally exit the lunch line, tray in hand. You scan the room, trying to find an empty table. You had just enrolled at Hawkin’s High a couple weeks ago, still not finding your own group. You looked down at your outfit, assuming that had something to do with it. Your tights were decorated with a yellow police tape pattern, short, black denim shorts over them. Your T-shirt was tucked into them on one side, a picture of a silly looking cat adorning the front. Your shoes were tall platforms and made you look a lot taller than normal. Overall, you could tell why people were adamant on avoiding you. The people in that school had zero personality.

You pull yourself from your thoughts, locking eyes with a tall man. He walks right towards you, his long curly hair looking soft to the touch.

“Hey.” He greets you shyly, pulling a hand from his pocket to wave. You’ve seen him before, with his D&D group. He had a habit of jumping up on the lunch tables to yell at jocks across the room. The way he was acting now drastically differed from his usual persona.

“Hi?” You can’t help but feel confused. This guy who had never acknowledged you before, randomly walking up to say ‘hi.’

“Uhm…” He clears his throat quickly. “I saw you looking around, do you not have a place to sit?” He questions.

“No, I don’t. I’ve spent most of my lunch periods outside, there’s never any empty tables.” You state, pointing to the lunch room doors.

“Well, would you like to sit with me and my friends?” Your face lights up, despite your protests.

“I’d love to, if you’re sure?” He nods enthusiastically, his back suddenly straightening. His whole mood seems to change as he leads you back to his table.

“Everyone, this is…” Eddie pauses, attempting to introduce you but realizing he never asked your name. “I’m sorry, I never got your name.” He chuckles.

“Y/n.” You say simply, taking a seat right beside his own. He plops down, his hair bouncing.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He mumbles, though you have a feeling he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You shake your head with a smile and direct your attention to the rest of the table.

“I like your tights.” A curly-haired boy pipes up. You look at him, eyes shining and smile wide.

“Thank you, I like them too! What’s your name?” You put your chin in one of your hands, watching him expectantly.

“Um, Dustin Henderson.” His voice cracks before he clears his throat once.

“Nice to meet you. I like your bracelet.” You say, pointing to a colorful beaded bracelet on his wrist.

“Oh, thanks! My girlfriend made it for me, used all my favorite colors too.” His smile is giant as he mentions his partner.

“That’s really sweet.” You smile back.

“So,” Eddie claps his hands together, grabbing your attention. You look over, his eyes already staring into yours. “Do you happen to know anything about D&D?”

“Probably not as much as you guys, but I’ve played a decent amount.” You nod, making him grin.

“Do you have a party? Or a character perhaps?” He leans on the table, arms crossed.

“I used to have a party until I moved away. And yes, I have two characters.”

“Two?” His head tilts back as his eyes widen. “Tell me about ‘em.”

“Uh, well I have a Level 22, Tiefling Rouge named Orianna. I made her for my very first campaign so she has a special place in my heart. I also have a Level 10, Dwarf Barbarian named Helwyn. I also gave her a pet rabbit named Ingot.” You nod your head after your short ramble. You look back at Eddie and his face is simultaneously stunned and amazed.

“Level 22?! I don’t even have a character that high yet!” A voice from further down the table whines. You look over with a cocky smile.

“Guess that means I’m better than you.” He looks at you with a red face.

“You should join our party.” You look back at Eddie, meeting his gaze.

“I was waiting for you to ask me.” You both smile.

“Do we get a say in this?!” Another voice yells.

“No.” Eddie replies, never tearing his eyes from you.

The next few weeks fly by, and before you know it you’ve made amazing friends. You officially join Hellfire after your first time playing with them. They were hesitant at first, but then you totally saved all their asses by rolling a natural twenty. Safe to say, they didn’t have any complaints after that.

“Hey!” You greet excitedly, plopping down onto the bench. One thing your friends in Hellfire noticed, was your attitude completely differed from your style. You looked hard to approach, stubborn, angry, and borderline evil…But that was only because you have a severe case of RBF.

“Hey there, Sunshine!” Eddie greets you with just as much enthusiasm. He came up with the nickname very easily, your charms and smile radiating light.

“So, are you finally gonna tell me what you have planned for our next campaign?” You ask, biting your lip in anticipation.

“Sorry, a magician doesn’t reveal his secrets.” He raises his hands up, eyes closing. You shake your head, rolling your eyes with a sweet smile.

“Tell me or I’ll slap you.” You state, but your smile removes any fear Eddie may have had.

“Yeah, right. You couldn’t hurt a fly, Sunshine!” He leans forward, eyes drooping so he looks drunk. In theory he was, but it wasn’t alcohol he was drunk on…

“I could-” As if on queue, something thick and warm collides with the back of your head. You hear boyish laughing right behind you, and based on that alone, you know that whatever’s in your hair; isn’t good.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Eddie stands up first, staring at the two boys with narrowed eyes. He looks ready to explode, but you won’t let him fight your battles. Everyone thinks you’re a total sweetheart, so it’s time to prove them wrong. You stand up abruptly, smacking your hands on the table. You reach for your lunch tray, grabbing a handful of mashed…Something. Eddie backs up when he sees your face as you turn around.

One of the boy’s taunts you, but you don’t hear it. You walk up to him with terrifying confidence, just close enough before you slap him across the face with the food in your hand. It smears over his face, getting in his eyes. You take advantage of his distraction and pull your foot up, pushing it right on his chest to kick him down onto the floor.

“Holy shit!” Someone screams, but you can’t tell if it’s one of your friends or one of the douchebags. You stomp your foot down on his chest, pushing him into the floor. He groans and tries to pry you off, but you stay where you are.

“Apologize.” You say through gritted teeth.

“W-What?!” He yells, stuttering through shaky breaths.

“I said, apologize to me now!” You shout, pushing down on his chest. He cries out, apologizing quickly. Before you even notice, a teacher is grabbing onto your arm. You look up and pry it from their grasp. “I’m going to the principal, let me go!” You avoid Eddie’s gaze as you grab your bag, walking for the lunchroom exit. The last thing Eddie sees is you scraping the food out of your hair, to throw in the face of a girl laughing at you.

“She’s a total badass.” Dustin speaks first, the rest of Hellfire watching you walk away as well.

“She’s perfect, is what she is.” Eddie whispers, watching you with literal heart-eyes.

You make your way home after being suspended for several weeks. Your parents aren’t there when you arrive, probably in another country by now. They travel for work a lot, leaving you alone in their giant house. You quickly make your way to your room, changing into fresh clothes after showering. You put on fuzzy socks, and tie your freshly washed hair up. You throw on a T-shirt that practically swallows you whole before walking back downstairs. Just as you pass the front door, the doorbell rings out.

With furrowed brows, you pull open the door.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He says softly.

“Eddie! What are you doing here?” You ask, unable to fight the smile creeping up your cheeks.

“I came to see how long you’re suspended for.” He chuckles, making you groan.

“Three weeks.” His eyes widen.

“How are we gonna survive our campaigns without you?”

“You probably won’t, you’ve started relying on me too much.” You smirk, leaning against the doorframe.

“You know…You choosing to play a barbarian really makes sense now.” Your cheeks go warm, and you avert your gaze.

“I didn’t mean to lash out like that, and I’m really sorry you had to see it.” Eddie looks at you like you’re completely crazy, because he actually thinks you might be.

“Are you serious? Why are you apologizing? That was the most badass, amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” You look up at him with wide eyes, your cheeks suddenly feeling warmer for a completely different reason. “You took him down like it was nothing! Everyone in Hellfire practically worships you now. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, you care so much for everyone close to you…But you also know how to hold your own and defend the people you care about. That’s the most impressive and…Hottest thing ever.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“That’s what you took from all that?” He asks, laughing loudly. His head tilts back as he laughs, when he looks back up you’re still staring at him. “I thought you were hot the second I saw you, this whole thing only added to it.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I didn’t tell you but…I had noticed you on your first day. I was too scared to walk up to you because I thought you were so out of my league. The guys had to give me more pep-talks than I can even count, before I walked up to you.”

“I have a feeling you wanted to do more than just invite me to sit with you guys.” You squint, searching his face.

“I originally wanted to ask you out but…You needed a place to sit first, and after we became friends I didn’t wanna ruin that.”

“Ask me.” You whisper.

“Huh?” He shakes his head, staring at you with raised brows.

“Ask me out.” He stutters a little, stumbling backwards slightly. You stare up at him expectantly, and he really can tell if you’re messing around.

“Uh…Will you g-go out with me?” He chokes on air, patting his chest with his hand.

“Yes.” Your answer is quick and holds zero hesitance. Eddie looks down at you with glittering eyes, staring at you like you’re everything he’s ever dreamed of; and you are.

[dreamersparacosm]

ang’s 6k celly! 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

presenting … the swift collection.

# prod. dreamersparacosm

a collection of one-shots inspired by taylor swift songs.

» [cruel summer] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

「 “what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.” 」

The plan was simple: finish the research, avoid distractions, and definitely don’t sleep with your research partner who’s leaving for America in September. You manage to spectacularly fail at two out of three, because your pending PhD in biology didn’t come with a minor in emotional intelligence.

situatuonship!au, grad school!au, neuroscience major!jungkook, biology major!reader, forced proximity

» [dress] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

「 “only bought this dress so you could take it off.” 」

Nothing sells movie tickets quite like a publicity stunt, and no one knows that better than you and Jeon Jungkook. You two have been secretly sleeping together for nine months while maintaining the facade of costars who can’t maintain their own personal space. And in your humble opinion, the arrangement has been working perfectly… until he shows up to the Critics Choice Awards with his new ‘girlfriend.’

secret relationship!au, actor!jungkook, actress!reader

» [false god] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

「 “remember how i said i’d die for you?” 」

Jeon Jungkook — chaebol heir, your disgustingly sexy ex-boyfriend, and owner of a god complex that rivals your own — walked away from your relationship a year ago without explanation. Everyone knows the rules of a breakup: make it very clear that you’re thriving without them — except you’re not, and he knows it. However, when you show up to a black-tie gala with his enemy’s arm around your waist, Jungkook knows he’s done watching you pretend to be over him. And he’ll do anything it takes to get his baby back.

exes to lovers, toxic(ish) ex!jungkook, brat!reader, chaebol!au, smau (barely!)

» [the way i loved you] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

「 “i miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain.” 」

After your (very) public breakup with Korea’s most popular second-gen idol, your company decides the best way to rehabilitate your image is by fake dating Jeon Jungkook, golden boy of the entire country. In true cliche fashion, the lines of your relationship are blurring completely and they’re about to get fuzzier. Good luck pretending you’re still pretending.

fake dating!au, idol!au, slight enemies to lovers but only if you squint

» [hits different] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

「 “you were the one that i loved. don’t need another metaphor, it’s simple enough.” 」

You’ve been in love with your best friend, Jeon Jungkook, since you were old enough to comprehend what that fluttery feeling in your chest meant. But when he shows up at your door drunk and devastated because his bitch of a girlfriend cheated, you’re faced with a choice: keep being the friend who patches him up, or admit to him someone’s been loving him the right way all along.

college!au, childhood friends to lovers, artist!jungkook

» [you are in love] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

「 “you can hear it in the silence.” 」

No touching, no flirting — two cardinal rules you abide by whenever you're with your best friend and fellow music industry connoisseur, Jeon Jungkook. He’s always been your muse, and vice versa. But this new song he’s producing sounds a little funky. Sounds like a confession waiting to be made. Sounds a lot like love, doesn’t it?

best friends to lovers, producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

character extras .ᐟ.ᐟ

» [call it what you want] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

「 “at least i did one thing right.” 」

Jeon Jungkook has been pinching the inside of his wrist everytime he wakes up beside you for five years now. So, like any sensible man who wants to cling to a dream for the rest of his life, he buys a diamond ring.

under the checkered flag!jungkook x oc

» [king of my heart] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

「 “the taste of your lips is my idea of luxury.” 」

One pregnant girl who’s extremely horny, and one husband whose only duty in life is to serve her. What does that equal? Oh, just the best orgasm(s) of her entire life.

the price of desire!jungkook x oc

note ; 6k. there are 6,000 people who follow me. i could fill up a tiny theater, or a massive lecture hall at a university. six thousand people have read my words, spared their emotions over sentences.

when i began writing on tumblr at the age of 15/16, i never imagined it would get to this point. i always thought i was writing for myself, to put these stories on pages rather than cram them in the depths of my mind. but what i’ve come to realize is that the inner workings of my mind deserve to be shared, and you’ve all made that possible. you’ve all followed, liked, reblogged, sent in asks over MY works!!! the same works i used to tell myself needed to be hidden.

what might seem as a small accomplishment to someone else is actually one of my greatest. while writing is just a hobby, it is my favorite thing to do.

so, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. thank you for interacting, for reading, for letting me tell my stories.

i thought to myself—what better way to celebrate than a bunch of one-shots inspired by my favorite artist? thus was born: the taylor swift collection.

these will be dropping sporadically as soon as they are finished, but now you have something extra to look forward to from me!

yours truly,

ang (dreamersparacosm) ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[sevilemar]

*takes your hand and asks for consent to hug you*

* hugs you good and long if you give it*

You talk like intense, intimate, and passionate relationships that do not involve romance or sex are impossible, OP. And I know that's not true because I have had exactly those relationships. They just look a little different than you might be used to.

I had this whirlwind university 'romance' with a girl in my classes. She introduced me to J-Rock, and we spent so many nights watching concerts in her flat, dyeing our hair black and pink and blue, and experimenting with make-up. We shared everything with each other, hopes and dreams and fears and family problems and kinky book recs, etc. She did leave to start a family in the end, but how different is that from any other high school or uni romance?

At the moment, my partner lives about a 5 hours train ride away. We see each other about once or twice a year, and every one of those meetings is special in a way that is hard to describe. Some weeks, we talk almost every day, sometimes we don't talk for a week or two. We go on larps together, and the intensity and passion we share while we're doing it is in no way sexual.

They know everything about me as I am right now, and a fair bit about my past. I can tell them anything, big or small, and I know they will listen and take me seriously and be honest with me in return. Having this kind of emotional openness and trust and vulnerability with someone is such an amazing gift, and I am so grateful they are in my life.

We are starting to figure out if we maybe want to have any physical aspects to our relationship, and I'm incredibly excited to see how it goes. And I'm doing it because I am a deeply sensual person, I love touch, and I feel like I can safely explore with them because we know each other very well, and know how to talk and listen to each other.

They also have other partners, and it has been amazing to learn that it makes me happy that they share parts of themselves with them that I cannot follow them into, sex being one of them. There is just something so satisfying in seeing them happy and glowy and open, and I cannot help but feel warm and fuzzy about anyone who brings it out in them.

Is this what society would qualify as a relationship? Maybe. But being honest, most people would probably think something along the lines of 'Wait, they only see each other twice a year? AND the other person sees other people, too?! How can you even call this a relationship??'

And that's what I mean when I say it is different. It's so easy to say 'Yeah, I'm different, society's rules don't apply to me', but it's another thing entirely to figure out what that actually means for your actual life and situation. I know how hard it is, how easily you can get discouraged, especially if you do not have anyone in your rl community to support you. Even with support it's difficult, as you mentioned.

Please OP, and anyone in the comments and tags who feels similar, please know that it is possible to find whatever it is you're looking for in a relationship, with yourself or with others, be they aspec or arospec or not.

It is kinda fucked how being ace or aro pretty much automatically means you’re isolated, even from your queer peers.

[yourlocallgothamite]

Can’t Help Crushing (On You)

Jason Todd x Outlaw!Reader Series

Chapter 1: Found Home

TRIGGER WARNINGS: (in coming chapters) PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU PROCEED WITH THIS STORY: Graphic torture and abuse (physical and psychological) - Child abuse and child torture - Family separation and loss - Death of family members - Scientific experimentation on minors - Forced restraint and captivity - Electrocution and physical violence - Blood and bodily injury descriptions - Depictions of extreme suffering and helplessness - Food and water deprivation - Emotional and mental breakdown - Animalistic/inhumane treatment of humans - Mentions of non-consensual medical procedures

⸻

next chapter

⸻

You don’t remember when the safe house started feeling like home.

Maybe it was the third week in, when Kori started gently braiding your hair one night mid-recon mission, murmuring about how your ends were splitting from stress. Or maybe it was when Roy patched up your busted motorcycle with duct tape, string, and sheer willpower.

But, if you're honest with yourself, it was probably Jason. Jason Todd. Red Hood. Living, breathing paradox. Your unofficial team leader. A man who acted like he didn’t care about anything but somehow always noticed everything. Like how you took your coffee. Like which pressure points to patch first when you were sore. Like the exact sound your voice made when you were pretending to be fine.

Either way, he made you feel at home.

Like right now, in this exact moment, you were sprawled across the beat-up couch, trying not to lose your mind while Jason Todd walked around in a stupid, slutty black tank top with his stupidly good arms and his stupid soft smile.

He wasn’t even doing anything. Just breathing. And somehow that was enough to make your heart skip like a scratched record.

You hadn't even realized you were staring at him again until he said, without looking up from the gun he was cleaning, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I'm not looking at you.” The lie falls out of your mouth on instinct, a bit too fast and a bit too high-pitched.

He hums — low and amused. “Right. So your eyes are just... magnetized to my face now?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You cross your arms, trying to look anywhere but at his arms — which, unfortunately for your dignity, are very exposed and very real under that black tank top. The man should be legally required to wear sleeves in the house.

He doesn’t press. Just keeps working, methodical, quiet. But you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

God. He’s so smug. So stupid. So stupidly hot. And for what? For breathing?

You bury your face in your hands and groan. Loudly. Because of course he noticed. Of course he always notices.

From across the safe house, Roy lets out the loudest, most dramatic sigh known to man and flops backward onto the couch like a man dying of secondhand embarrassment.

“Oh my God, just kiss already,” he whines, throwing a Cheeto into the air and missing his own mouth. “I swear, if I have to listen to one more round of this unresolved, pining-loaded, flirty-denial garbage, I’m gonna set myself on fire. For attention.”

“I am not kissing anyone!” you snap.

“No one asked you to,” Jason says

You both pause.

You glance at each other.

Silence.

Your eyes meet. Both of you freeze like two cats caught mid-cringe.

Roy makes a gagging noise so violent it makes you flinch. “This is torture. Literal psychological torture. You guys are so in love it physically hurts.”

Everyone stops.

Jason coughs. “What? No.”

You laugh way too loudly. “Oh my God. That’s so funny. Roy, you’re hilarious.”

Kori, floating upside-down in the corner with a tablet in her hand, chimes in dreamily, “Oh, I simply assumed you were already mating partners.”

“Mating part— What the hell,” Jason says, his voice climbing an octave as he chokes on his own breath.

You don’t comment because you know if you try to open your mouth you will die of shame and you feel your face get hotter by the second.

But they all go back to what they were doing — like this is just another Tuesday in Outlaw HQ. Because it is. Because Roy and Kori have been watching you two orbit around each other like emotionally constipated planets for months.

Jason tries to focus on the gun in his hands. The metal is cool, familiar, grounding. Easier than looking at you.

When you first walked into the safe house all those months ago, blood on your knuckles, soot on your cheek, that fire in your eyes—he’d known. You were trouble. But the kind he didn’t want to stay away from.

You’d knocked Roy on his ass when you first met him.

And Jason knew he’d been so, so gone. Absolutely whipped.

And yeah, maybe you beam whenever he walks into a room, maybe you laugh at his bad jokes, maybe you always bring him the red popsicles you know he likes — but that doesn’t mean anything. Right?

Right.

Except… you just randomly call him stupid for existing. With pink cheeks and a voice that trembled.

God, you were cute.

He was so screwed.

He knew he was done for when he saw you smile.

And honestly right now? He didn’t even try to hide it anymore. Well. Kind of.

It wasn’t like he flirted outright. He didn’t know how. Not with you. With everyone else, sure. With you, though?

With you, he just… did things. Picked up your favorite snacks. Drove out of his way to grab that one shitty gas station drink you liked. Sat next to you during movies without ever really watching the movie. Let his arm brush yours and pretended he didn’t get goosebumps from it.

But you didn’t notice. Or maybe you did and just didn’t care. Some days, he thought you might feel the same — you’d laugh at his dumb jokes, touch his shoulder when you talked, smile at him like he was the only one in the room.

And then you’d laugh with Roy the next day, or hug Kori like you never wanted to let go, and he’d convince himself it was all in his head.

That you were just… friendly. Affectionate. Out of his league.

You’d been through enough. He knew that. He could hear it in the way you screamed at night, gasping awake from nightmares you never explained. He saw it in the way your hands trembled after certain missions. The way you looked at your reflection sometimes like you weren’t sure who you were anymore.

Jason had his demons. You had yours.

So he’d never push.

He’d protect you. He’d watch over you. And if that meant staying in this weird, limbo-space where you maybe liked him and maybe didn’t, then fine. He could handle it.

He’d already died once. How much worse could yearning be?

“Jason.”

Your voice shakes him out of his thoughts.

You’re closer than before. Sitting on the edge of the table, legs swinging. You look tired, but there’s a softness in your eyes — something vulnerable and sweet and unguarded.

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You shrug. “Nothing. You just… seemed far away.”

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at you. Long and quiet and maybe a little too much.

You look away first.

Your heart is hammering. You don’t even know what you wanted him to say. But for a second, it felt like something in the air had changed — something warm and terrifying.

And then Roy throws a pillow directly at Jason’s face.

“Quit making heart eyes at each other and help me fix the damn sink!”

Jason catches the pillow without looking. Tosses it back with perfect aim.

You laugh.

And when Jason hears that sound — your laugh, just for him — it’s enough to keep him alive another day.

⸻

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