#I am very sorry this is both long and terrible... >.<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Your favorite smut phanfics of all time?

Ah yes, you could say I’m quite the Connoisseur in this section. I do apologize that some may be repetitive. If anyone asks, I didn’t post this. Though I do think we should have a moment of silence for spring_haze.

Favorite recent smut fics:

a pair (ao3) - dipnpip

Summary: Dan fantasizes about the idea of becoming even more committed with Phil. It gets him a tad hot and bothered.

As He Comes, So I Come (ao3) - cloej88

Summary: Dan and Phil have just returned from Chicago, where they finally sorted themselves out. They’ve slept a full ten hours under their own roof, and now they have an uninterrupted afternoon to rediscover one another’s bodies.

get to heaven in our own sweet time (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Dan and Phil choose their costume for Halloween 2024. Yeah, it breaks the internet, but they only have eyes for each other.

Get Wrecked (ao3) - httphowell

Summary: Dan’s dreams have been haunted by a new version of Phil—blonde, bold, and unrelenting. When Phil refuses to stop asking about his dreams, Dan cracks, confessing every detail of how dream-Phil ruined him. Now, Phil is determined to see if he can make those dreams a reality.

in this smoking chaos (ao3) - writingcollective

Summary: Dan bottoms for the first time, not being able to shut down his inner demons that whisper internalised homophobic thoughts into his ear. But Phil guides him through it, somehow.

Incapacitated (ao3) - mermaidstailonmyface (louislittletomlintum)

Summary: the one where dan has a broken arm and needs help with washing his hair

Long distance loving (ao3) - harrysbabyboo

Summary: Dan’s on the American leg of the WE’RE ALL DOOMED TOUR and he and Phil have phone sex

make me feel (ao3) - blossomsphan

Summary: dan discovers a new use for his walk-in closet

our lips must always be sealed (ao3) - uhmyeah

Summary: dan and phil have silly tour sex

#tits out for #tit (ao3) - Merrydith

Summary: Phil is questioning his confidence, but when Dan suggests they try something new after a show, Phil flips the script and makes Dan see how confident he really is..

(A VERY dirty story, i am so so sorry)

Unbuttoned, Unbothered, Unstoppable (ao3) - httphowell

Summary: After their Terrible Influence Tour show, Dan and Phil return to their hotel room, where Phil, still buzzing with energy, lounges in a half-unbuttoned shirt, golden trousers, and a pair of ridiculous wolf ears. Dan wants to make fun of him, but instead, he finds himself staring, caught off guard by just how good Phil looks like that.

Inspired by that picture... yeah, you know what one I'm talking about (it's included if you don't know, come find out)

What If (ao3) - httphowell

Summary: Even though they’ve been together for over a decade, they still haven’t tied the knot. After reading lots of comments about wedding theories about them hiding their fingers, Dan suddenly craves the intimacy of pretending Phil is his husband for the night.

Favorite older smut fics:

A Different Kind of First Time (ao3) - adorkablephil (kimberly_a)

Summary: Phil has only ever had casual hook-ups in the past and so has never had sex without a condom. Now in a relationship with Dan, he experiences it for the first time.

After The Gig (ao3) - developerdaniel

Summary: aka the fic where dan and phil are lovers from rival bands in England in the 1980's and they cant get enough of each other after getting home from their gig

angel boy (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: Aka the one where angel!Dan goes into a demon club looking for a bit of entertainment.

As You Please (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: In which Dan ruins the mood during sex. Except he doesn't.

Baby It's Cold Outside, But I'll Keep You Warm (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: It’s Dan’s first time and he’s nervous, but Phil comforts him.

Benefits (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: They never talked about it.

"It" being those nights where one or both of them just needed a release and they helped each other out.

Maybe they both secretly wished they were more than friends, but friendship did have its benefits.

can't help the itch to touch- to kiss. (ao3) - thescienceofphan

Summary: Phil is Deaf and Dan sleeps around a lot. So when people see them together, they worry about Phil’s emotional well being and shame on Dan for preying on a deaf boy, but it’s not like that. Not at all.

(or an AU where deaf!phil and playboy!dan are best friends and people think they’re dating)

Cast a Spell on You (ao3) - yellowlampshade

Summary: Hogwarts graduates Dan and Phil have been dating for three years, and that's fine with Dan except for one thing: they've never done anything sexual together. Dan thinks that maybe wearing Phil's jumper with some lace panties could change that.

(Hint: he's right.)

Choking On Your Alibi (ao3) - zinther

Summary: When Dan had first responded to a stranger’s roommate ad, he figured they’d be like acquaintances living together; simply exchanging pleasantries now and then. However as it happens they had quickly become good friends. But what will happen when Dan walks in on Phil hooking up with another guy?

Christmas Can’t Be Cancelled - jilliancares

Summary: Dan’s boarding school doesn’t allow the students to celebrate Christmas, so when they’re locked in their rooms for the day, Phil Lester makes sure to get locked in Dan’s room instead of his own.

Diary - i-love-phan-and-butts

Summary: Dan and Phil are playing his and seek when Phil hides in Dan’s closet and finds a load of sex toys and possibly a sex diary of dreams he’s had about Phil and Phil confronts Dan about it.

Don't Be Shy Love (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: Dan walks in on Phil in the shower

Dress Me Up & Watch Me Go (ao3) - phandomsub

Summary: Dan is sick of Phil's grumpy mood, so he takes matters into his own hands by pulling out a pair of pretty rompers.

Duality (ao3) - melapplesphan

Summary: During the filming of their 2018 Easter baking video, Phil finds that he can’t stop staring at Dan’s curls and wishing he was wearing his pastel outfit, so he asks Dan to put it on for him. Or, how Phil finally stumbles onto the main reason why he gets so turned on during the late nights he and Dan spend baking. In which Phil has a thing for Pastel Dan, running his fingers through Dan’s curls, and telling Dan he’s beautiful. Equal parts fluff and smut.

Fuck Away The Pain (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Phil’s boyfriend cheats on him leaving him a mix of sad, angry, and a million other unidentified emotions.

Luckily Dan was always there for him.

Give Me More (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Who knew a lazy morning full of fluff and cuddles could turn into edging and overstimulation so quickly.

Glass Depth Mood (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: 'I don't know you but we're wearing matching costumes at this Halloween party and your ass looks amazing in that costume'

Hearing You (ao3) - centroid (orphan_account)

Summary: They were laying on Phil’s couch, watching a movie. Maybe watching was a bad choice of words.

“You look so beautiful like this. Cheeks flushed, hair messed up, eyes blown. I love it.” Phil breathed, and Dan blushed more. A smile tugging at his lips, Dan brought his own to meet Phil’s once more in a single kiss.

‘I want you.’ Dan signed with a seductive glint in his eye.

“You look so pretty, sprawled out for me. Do you know how sexy you look?”

“Ah- Phil”

I can't get enough of you (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Phil wakes up feeling extremely sexually frustrated and no matter how much he gets off it isn't enough.

Luckily Dan was more than willing to be Phil's human sex toy.

I love him (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Phil had hidden who he really was for such a long time that he was scared of people knowing the truth.

Luckily Dan comes into his life, making him feel safe and so extremely happy.

Dan makes Phil feel less scared to be himself, and he finally feels comfortable and ready to come out and show the real side of him.

No more fear, no more secrets, no more hiding.

If I’m a Saint, Then Your Heaven - botanistlester

Summary: Phil is less than excited to start his Sex in the Bible course, but he can't bring himself to regret it when he meets a gorgeous angel dressed in all pink by the name of Dan.

In a Strange Room With a New Last Name (ao3) - yellowlampshade

Summary: The first thing Dan did after accepting the proposal was write to Chris.

Just days after turning eighteen, Dan is forced by his parents to accept a marriage proposal from an Alpha he's never met.

“Daniel? Daniel, wait, you don’t have to…” Philip was behind him, his hand on Dan’s to stop him from undressing, and he couldn’t be numb anymore. Every feeling hit him at once and suddenly he was crying and couldn’t stop. He brought his hands to his face to muffle his sobs, and this wasn’t how this was supposed to happen, it was so much better when he felt nothing because now everything hurt. He missed his room and his friends and his brother and Chris and he was so afraid of this.

into your glow (ao3) - kay_okay

Summary: “Me? I’m driving you crazy?” He pulls back and takes the beat to wrap his hands around Dan’s thighs, tug forcefully until Dan’s farther down the bed. “Do you even understand what you look like right now?”

Let Me Make It Up To You (ao3) - developerdaniel

Summary: aka a fic about after the 2012 incident and how Dan tries to apologise and make it up to Phil leading to beautiful smut of them making love to rekindle their love

Life in Death (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: Dan, the God of Death, and Phil, the God of Life, have sex. Except sometimes, embarrassing things happen while Dan has Phil's cock in his ass.

Look in the Mirror (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: As soon as Dan saw the mirrored ceiling in the back lounge of the tour bus, he knew he was in trouble.

Love me (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Dan is cute and he knows it, and he really wants his boyfriends attention. So he decides to annoy Phil until he gets what he wants.

Lovestruck (Be the One to Take Me Home and Show Me the Sun) (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: Dan has gone up north to visit Phil again. He meets and hangs out with some of Phil’s friends, before spending the some quality alone time with Phil back at his flat.

Only Fools Fall (ao3) - sinking_wthatship

Summary: Basically just awkward strangers Dan and Phil with lots of sexual tension but also emotional connection (sort of). SPOILER ALERT There is smut. And Tooth-rotting fluff. Lots of it.

Paper Cuts - jilliancares

Summary: Dan’s hands are covered in paper cuts, and masturbating has become entirely to difficult. Luckily Phil is there to help him.

Partner Project (ao3) - developerdaniel

Summary: aka the fic where dan and phil are partners for a uni class project and the project brings them together a little closer than just two class partners usually are.

Post-Tour Agenda (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: They had lots of important things to do after the tour. Like sleep, for one. And sex. Also five months' worth of laundry. And what better way to decide who had to do laundry other than a sexy dan vs phil!

Quiet - cuddlephan

Summary: Cat stays at Dan and Phil’s, and Dan and Phil share a bed to make things easier but Dan wakes up with hard on/wet dream.

Sensations (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Sure Dan and Phil usually kept their sex life fairly vanilla, but sometimes they’d play rough and Dan was a screamer and Phil loved taking control.

Sleepy Drawings - jilliancares

Summary: Dan is drowning is textbooks, and he can’t help it that he falls asleep in the library. Phil, an art major, can’t help it that he draws the sleeping boy, and neither of them can help the relationship that blooms.

Take it Slow (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: A fluffy and smutty oneshot about Dan and Phil’s first time.

The Locker Room (ao3) - thewakeless

Summary: Dan and Phil meet and fuck in the University showers.

The Three A's of College: Alcohol, Assumptions, and Avoidances (ao3) - jilliancares

Summary: Dan loves a lot of things about college. The only thing he really doesn’t like is his horrible roommate. (And when his best friend accidentally outs him to said horrible roommate, it becomes Dan’s life mission to avoid him).

Truth or Truth (ao3) - developerdaniel

Summary: aka the fic were dan and phil come home from a night out to drink even more alcohol and play an edited game of truth or dare and end up confessing their feelings for each other which lead to them finally giving in to how much they've wanted each other for so long.

Typical (ao3) - Junebug1312

Summary: Dan and Phil hate each other. Everyone knows that. But what happens when Dan breaks both of his wrists and can't do certain things himself?

Also when has someone saying "prove it" ever actually worked as an invitation.

Weave Me Into Your Skin - botanistlester

Summary: When Phil finds a pair of panties mixed in with his and Dan’s laundry, he’s not sure what to think, consider he’s certain neither of them has brought home a girl in the past few weeks. What’s even stranger is what he finds in Dan’s room when he goes to inquire about the offending garment.

[thearcherbrothersx]

Closed starter for @mossofteeth / Aaron & Genevieve

It had been a busy week, and a successful one at that. Not a lot of people would celebrate getting a murdering slumlord off scot-free, but Aaron was one of them. The whole firm was, really. The guy had put them on a pretty hefty retainer after his success, and Aaron had used that to cement his standing in the firm. That partner offer was right around the corner; he could feel it.

So they'd gone out to celebrate at the first ridiculously expensive restaurant they could find. Some of the others had invited wives and girlfriends along, and the evening had taken on a life of its own. All the while, Aaron personally preferred to blend in seamlessly, more or less quietly watching the evening unfurl. He was engaged loosely in conversation with a few of the other senior associates and their wives when something unexpected drew his attention. It was an instinct more so than anything he actually saw at first, but it pulled him from the conversation and made him look around.

The glass of red wine he'd been nursing still in his hand paused on the way to his lips when his eyes finally found what they'd unknowingly been searching for. They widened a fraction - and then narrowed. She'd just walked in - on the arm of one of the juniors who'd been invited to join the celebrations after dinner, and Aaron's mind stretched like a rubber band before snapping, focused on one overwhelmingly simple word: mine.

It took him all of one second to put his pleasant mask back in place, and he lifted a hand slightly to invite Gen and her date over, a casual smile on his face, attention focused on the male at her side as though she was any other two-bit girlfriend on the arm of a random colleague.

[stressfulsloth]

Thinking about Disco Elysium and stars. Something about communal experience and simultaneous isolation, hope and idealism, fear and beauty and terror and burning. The inherent horror in the vast romantic starscape of the sky, the melancholy and loneliness inherent in the untold distance, a communal experience of something too enormous to fathom. Stars bear witness to humanity, to the millions of tiny people crawling on the face of Elysium. They watch the people, and the people watch back, and make up stories about the stars. Stars symbolise love, hope, something unreachable and unattainable.

The way that the light of the stars reaches every single being in Elysium, from human to phasmid, but no matter how far it reaches it is still a cold and distant glow, always on the verge of going out. A moral brilliance, a holy light to strive towards, something always at risk of burning out, but there's a dichotomy too. A duality between the stars as brutal unfeeling observers, moralists even, like the aerostatics flying overhead, tiny dying lights that watch impassively over every terrible thing in the world, and the flipside; stars as the burning kernels of hope, furious burning flames that parallel Harry and his golden-orange forest fire nature. Stars as the light of communism, the star-and-antlers. They're hope and dreams- a million years in the stars. Rockstars and superstars. The light of a brighter future (however short-term that future might be) coming towards them at the end of the tunnel. It makes me think of Sacred and Terrible Air and the light pollution in Vassa- ending light pollution as the world ends. "You may laugh at this, but in the evening, when the big world in the distance swells into a bloody maelstrom, families come out into the street in Vaasa and are insignificant together. Only distant explosions disturb the deep peace of the winter night, its flawless starry sky. Everyone watches, heads tilted back." The stars are a shared experience. Something that everyone watches, insignificant together, when there's nothing more that can be done. Light in the face of darkness, community in the face of inevitability. Togetherness. The stars are there in the church with the ravers. They're there watching Harry and Kim together. Insignificant together. In dark times, should the stars also go out?

[yikesy]

!!!

Actually!!!

this is!! Complex!!

you see the crux of the matter is that rrverse zeus is both Straight Up Evil and has Absolute Power and he's made it his life's mission to limit and isolate the olympians and often puts them in positions designed to be as tortuous to them in particular as possible

and that when we meet them is when the Situation has reached its singularity and Everyone is at the Worst they've Ever been

of course we don't get this context til the end so the One Thing you should know about apollo is that he lies in his inner monologue, like A LOT, in order to preserve whatever narrative allows him to keep going

and the reality is that the relations on olympus have Never been worse than they are right now (like, Really) so the narrative he's going with is that they've Never Been Close Actually

mind you, at the end of the book the time away from olympus has made him finally snap back to himself and THIS is the energy he brings to the table

(dio's been exiled so Also out of olympus)

So. Yeah.

now hermes' side is,,, let's just say he has,, Issues. Psychological 5-seconds-away-from-a-psychotic-breakdown-at-any-given-time issues

but towards apollo,, think feelings of abandonment and pain from involuntary drift away plus jealousy and (one sided) competitiveness over zeus' attention plus lowkey resentment for association with prophecy (fate is a whole trigger for hermes, both in the trauma and in the,, conditioning sense) plus symbolic rejection of Truth plus subconscious desperate cry for help to the one person he knows is Safe

this should all be filtered to the manic energy of someone who Cannot remember the last time he slept or even just rested and only functions thanks to energy drinks and the desire to outrun his own toughts

He's,, not doing well

ignore the s word BUT YALL???? FYM APOLLO AND HERMES WAS NEVER CLOSE??? OMG??? OH MY LORD???? WHATTT? HELLO?? DIDN’T IN THE PERCY JACKSON’S GREEK GODS HERMES’ CHAPTER SAYS HE AND APOLLO BECAME CLOSE AND PRACTICALLY BEST FRIENDS???? HELLOOOO???

[cookies-after-dark]

ALSO RELATED TO THE SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED PV ASK (i am not the same anon but i am the one who was yapping about them being possessive)!!

smilk n reader making bets on how long pv will take before he cracks, making so many jokes about it (while also being stinking cute too) and scheming together on the next tease moment (they have those boards w/ pictures and strings and their evil evil "bring pv to his breaking point" plots)

aftermath of everything is reader laying in bed, fucked out of their mind, them and pv talking about it and smilk just slides in going "fucking finally!!! my turn!!!!" (also in my head there's this big ass, nest looking bed for all 3)

que threesome and the start of a very loving, very horny relationship

as a side note, the relationship seen from the outside must be so weird for normal people (cookies?) cuz like, basically a king god, his evil counterpart w/ a long history of crimes who is also a god, and some guy™ (gn); like how did they pull them?? no one knows but also everyone knows not to fuck w/ the (power scale wise) weakest member of the relationship (again, pv and milk, in my head, both would bite and crash out if anything happens to the members of their relationship, especially the reader cuz yk, their "some guy ™" status)

i am so so sorry about yapping so much in ur askbox, these are not asks, it's just me yapping about this dynamic cuz im very very into it-

Listen so this was sitting in my inbox for s9 long because my brain would short circuit every single time I got to the line, "big ass, nest looking bed for all three" and then I'd have to start the day over like in a time loop.

There really is something absolutely feral about Pure Vanilla Cookie doing the equivalent of smoking a cigarette (cheerfully talking with Shadow Milk Cookie about how wonderful you were) after he's used you so thoroughly that you're a sweaty, leaking, marked up incoherent mess. And you're not even given a chance to rest before Shadow Milk Cookie lets his cock whap you in the face, all giggly and excited and eager to own you. If Pure Vanilla Cookie's healing powers included giving you an extra burst of energy, you're going to need it.

I love to think that in this silly little universe where anything is possible, no one is all that terribly surprised to see Pure Vanilla Cookie and Shadow Milk Cookie getting along so well. But to see you in the middle of them all of a sudden has everyone talking for decades. "Me and the bad bitches I pulled by being autistic" fits so perfectly here.

[biisexualemma]

forget it. matt murdock

word count: 3.3k

requested: nope

warnings: none but a bit of angst

plot: matt kissed you and told you to forget about it

a/n: i confess that i've had this hidden away in my drafts for a very, very long time with 90% of it written up :/ but nevertheless it's here now and you can give it a read and let me know what you think. personally i LOVE this fic and deeply love matthew murdock, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!

masterlist

"hey!" you beamed, entering the familiar bar full of familiar smells and faces. you immediately encountered the strawberry blonde who's face lit up when she saw you.

"you came!" she cheesed, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing tight. you laughed, squeezing her back an appropriate amount. "i thought you told foggy you couldn't make it?" she quizzed, forever the detective.

"i know," you admitted, pulling out of the hug so you could see her lovely blue eyes, your hands still touching her forearms. "guess i changed my mind-- i couldn't miss your birthday celebrations, what kind of friend would i be?"

"a terrible one. i'd have been bad mouthing you all night," she wore a teasing smile, eyes glistening like they always did. they glanced away from you, locking onto something behind you when you remembered you hadn't arrived solo. "am i in need of an introduction?" she quirked an eyebrow, corner of her lip turning into a smirk as she eyeballed the brunette slowly coming up behind you, a hand snaking around your waist.

"oh, sorry, right," you babbled, your fingers touching your forehead at your forgetfulness and lack of manners. "this is my friend, patrick," you glanced at the man on your left who's eyes were focused on karen's inquisitive blue ones. "pat, this is karen."

"hey, nice to meet you," he held out his free hand for her to shake, which she took, offering a kind smile. your heart tightened at the interaction. "y/n's told me a lot about you."

"none of the embarrassing stuff i promise," you quickly added when she gave you a worrisome side eye, causing you to choke out a laugh. 

she seemed to glide right past this and straight into interrogation. "i didn't know you were seeing anyone?" she gave you another glance, trying desperately not to give away what she was thinking although it was fairly obvious to you. you were sure most people in this room were thinking the same thing. what about matt?

well, what about matt was that he kissed you drunkenly one night, and told you to forget all about it the next morning. so you did, though it broke your heart a little. you had only been in love with him the moment you laid eyes on him that first day at nelson and murdock and you always had a sneaky suspicion that he felt the same. based on the gentle way he spoke to you, his reassuring nudges when you were stressed over a case, soft creases in the corners of his eyes when you would laugh a little too hard at a joke foggy had made. karen and foggy teased you relentlessly about it for months, you brushed it off and matt would just shake his head and laugh. and then he kissed you, it was late, you both had been at josie's all night drinking and you helped him home because your apartment was only a block over from his, even though he insisted he was fine. you trailed with him up the steps, stopped outside his door and he stood to face you, swaying a little closer to you as the alcohol effected his balance. you grabbed hold of his forearms, giggling a little as you let out a soft woah there tiger, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning down and kissing you.

you hadn't spoken again since he caught you the next morning before work and told you that to remain professional you should both forget anything ever happened and move on. 

you tried to move on, you met patrick not long after but it didn't feel the same as it did when matt had kissed you. you suspected it never would. but patrick was nice, he was kind and he could be funny sometimes. there was no reason for you not to like him and enjoy spending time with him.

"it's still pretty new," you forced yourself to smile and lean into him affectionately no matter how unnatural it felt. you wanted to enjoy yourself tonight, not spend it worrying about what other people were thinking. this was hard to do though when you had spotted him across the room the second you had walked into josie's.

you found it hard to engage in conversation, thankfully karen and patrick were both naturally very chatty people, and kept the conversation going despite your lack of involvement. you couldn't help your eyes trailing over to where matt stood, talking with foggy.

that was when foggy caught your eye, his eyes widening along with his smile as he waved madly at you before marching over. matt trailing behind his friend, looking a little lost. 

"shit," you mumbled under your breath, but you managed to catch patricks attention. he turned to you with a quiet hm? but it was too late, they were both here already.

"you told me you weren't coming!" foggy beamed, pulling you into a tight hug. you let out an uncomfortable laugh, shrugging your shoulders. "you're turning me into a liar," he teased as he pulled away.

"sorry," you breathed out a laugh, glancing at matt who stood carefully next to foggy and karen, quietly listening in on the situation with slightly furrowed brows. "it was last minute," you bit down on your bottom lip trying to disguise your discomfort.

"this is y/n's friend patrick," karen quickly changed the subject to avoid rehashing the same conversation. "they're new," she gave you a small wink like she was saving you the trouble of explaining everything again to more people.

matt let out a quiet hm which went unnoticed by most but not by you, you shot him a quick glare. you reached down for patricks hand and held onto it with your own. "this is foggy, and matt," you introduced, forcing a gentle smile. you watched patrick shake hands with foggy, before he moved to shake matt's hand. matt, however, just stood there, eyes hidden behind those red tinted glasses, hands to himself.

"you have to be verbal with him, you know, talk him through your intentions" foggy teased his friend, a smirk lining his lips as he glanced at matt out the corner of his eye. "he can be a bit slow."

matt snorted, ducking his head to hide his laughter. patrick spluttered and froze, fearing he'd done something wrong. they really thought they were so funny. you rolled your eyes, pulling away from patrick for a second so you could slap matts shoulder and then foggy's. matt snorted a little harder at the contact from you, foggy frowning slightly as he rubbed the area you'd hit him. "both of you, knock it off,"

karen rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips remained. 

"oh, relax, it was just a joke," foggy continued to rub his arm, his smile slowly moving back onto his face. "matt's blind, not slow. he can't see you or your handshake."

patrick's face was a picture, it almost made you snort out a laugh, but you held it in, biting down on the inside of your cheek. his mouth hung open, eyes wide like he had offended matt somehow when he in fact had done no wrong. matt and foggy just liked to have fun with this kind of thing.

"oh-- shit man, i'm sorry i didn't know--" he glanced at you for help and you couldn't help but crack a smile, quickly hiding it with the back of your hand. you reached out and touched his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze, shaking your head. 

"we're just messing with you man," matt reassured, a smile lining his lips that looked a little too amused as he held out his hand for patrick to shake. "nice to meet you," he spoke with a tight jaw, his hand gripping patrick's a little too tightly. 

"pat, d'you wanna grab us a drink?" your hand still on his shoulder, you gave him a gentle nudge towards the bar where he stumbled off with a quiet yeah 'course. "you've probably just scarred him for life," you said to the group once patrick was out of ear shot.

the three of them burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in. you had missed this sense of normalcy between the four of you that had been missing for a while.

-

"hey," matt mumbled, approaching you from behind almost as soon as patrick had left your side to grab a cab outside. he nudged your shoulder with his as he moved to stand in front of you, he leaned an elbow against the bar you were sat up at. "how you doing?"

you pulled your eyes away from his and down to your drink where they had been moments ago. "i'm fine," you said softly, carefully avoiding his vacant stare. even if they were covered by those red lenses, you found matt's stare incredibly hard to keep, he had a way of looking right through you. "you?"

"fine," he nodded, his voice raspy and quiet. you brought the glass in your hand to yours lips and sipped slowly, as he let out a heavy breath through his nostrils. "is this how it's gonna be from now on?"

"don't know what you mean?" you sat your glass back down, gulping down on the lump on your throat.

"yeah, you do," he rolled his eyes slightly. he gripped the stool in front of him, that sat between the two of you. "i don't want things to be weird with us."

you shook your head, pursing your lips as you swirled the alcohol around in the glass. "why would things be weird?" you tried to play it off, but you gave yourself away with your fidgeting and quietness when you spoke. 

"because i kissed you, and i shouldn't have," he lowered his voice as he said, his head ducking slightly to grow closer to you. you glanced at him for a second but quickly pulled your eyes away again, shaking your head again.

"you said forget about it," you repeated his words back to him. "so i forgot about it, matt."

"we haven't spoken since--"

"we're speaking right now--"

"before tonight you haven't said two words to me-- you've been getting karen to send messages to me from the next room--"

"why'd you think that is?" you snapped, he was relentless and you couldn't listen to his guilty conscience any longer. "you were an asshole matt. what you did hurt, and i don't feel like forgiving you yet so you'll just have to deal with it for a little longer."

he was taken aback by your sharpness, he visibly retracted from you. you grabbed your drink and gulped back what was left in the glass. "i'm gonna go find my date," you slammed the glass back down and slipped off the bar stool and onto your feet, you shrunk in front of him. he wore a soft frown, his lips pressed tightly together. "see you in the office, matt."

he grabbed your arm before you could walk away. you glanced down at his soft grip on you before meeting his stare. "don't go with him," he muttered only to you, his jaw tense. "i'll take you home."

you yanked your arm free pretty easily, he wasn't holding onto you very tight. he was giving you mixed signals and it was making everything that was swirling around inside your head much harder to deal with. "it's not funny to mess with me like this, matt," your voice cracked slightly, breaking your hard front you had put up with him. "leave me alone."

-

patrick had picked up on your change in mood on the drive back to your place but didn't want to ask what had caused it for fear of having to discuss it. he dropped you off without a word on the matter, kissed you goodnight and didn't try to invite himself in.

you sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, head resting against them and your eyelids drooping. you were so tired from the events that occurred that night but your mind was so busy it was keeping you awake.

you really hated matt right now. he was so selfish for acting the way he did, he didn't seem to care how you felt about any of it. he'd made the decision to forget about it, and that was that. only to send you mixed signals tonight. it made no sense.

you let out a sigh, rubbing your tired eyes when there was a knock on the door. you climbed up and over the door, confused as to who would be knocking on your door this late at night. maybe patrick had forgotten something.

you peeped through the hole in your door, letting out an exasperated sigh when you saw matt on the other side. hesitating with your hand loosely on the door handle, your groaned and quickly swung the the door open.

"what are you doing here, matt?" you asked quickly, head resting against the edge of the door. you features turned into a soft frown, as you watched him jittery in front of you.

"i didn't want to leave things between us like that," he confessed. "you're my friend and i don't want you to hate me because i did something stupid."

his eyebrows raised, creating creases in his forehead, his cane was propped against the wall and his hands expressively trying to show you just how much he meant what he said. his eyes were hidden behind those glasses but you could figure out just about how they probably looked. buggy and intense, like the rest of him. 

"will you shut up and come inside, i have neighbours and i don't want them to hate me," you yanked his shirt and pulled him into your apartment along with his cane. you let out a deep sigh when you shut the door behind the both of you, turning you found matt not too far behind you, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

"i don't hate you," you said after a brief silence but he gave you a frown that wasn't convinced by what you'd said. "i don't... i'm mad at you, and i don't think you can blame me."

"i know but i want to fix this," he pleaded, taking a step closer to you. "i really want to fix this because i can't stand you being mad at me," he removed the glasses from his face, his familiar glossy brown eyes appearing from behind them. "i'm used to having you around, bugging me and foggy and making jokes to lighten the mood in really heavy cases. you're sweet and kind and everything that i can lack sometimes when i don't have you there to keep me in check," he was letting loose.

"c'mon matt," you shook your head. "i miss how things were in the office but you clearly don't understand the gravity of what you did, so i can't just go back," you ran your fingers through your hair, letting out a huff of air, your eyes so tired and your body exhausted from having this conversation so many times with him.

"i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable," he admitted, his eyes distant but focused at the same time. "when i kissed you, it was impulsive and stupid. i wasn't thinking about how it would change things, all i could think about was you."

you shook your head. matt stood silently, eyes unfocused as he listened to your rapid heartbeat.

"i'm tired, matt," you sighed, a small frown falling on your lips. "i've had enough of this for one night, you're really messing with my head."

"i'm not doing this to mess with you," he took a couple steps closer to where you were standing near the door. he listened to your uneven breaths as he grew nearer. "i was being selfish when i kissed you— jeez' and i still am now."

he ran the palm of his hand over his face as he came to the realisation that he was only continuing his selfish rampage by being here in your apartment right now. "i'll go," he mumbled, his head falling down, his gaze directed towards the floor now. "sorry for being a jerk."

you, amidst matts outburst, stood quite still, your mouth hanging open slightly as his words replayed in your head. you tried to speak but you couldn't think what to say, everything about this was so confusing.

he brushed your shoulder as he walked around you and pulled at the door handle to leave, but you quickly, without hesitation, pushed the door shut again before he got any further.

"wait a minute— why do you think i'm mad at you?" you eyebrows knitted together the longer you thought about what he'd said.

"'cause i kissed you," he repeated, his hand lingering near the door as if he was expecting this conversation to go south.

"and you were being selfish because?" you asked him to clarify, your chin touching your shoulder as you glanced over to look at him.

"because... i was so caught up in wanting to kiss you, that i didn't even consider whether you wanted me to," he felt like you were dragging this out now just to humiliate him. 

you were quiet for a moment, twisting the rest of your body around so you could look at him properly again. his hands clutched onto his cane, eyes hidden behind the red lenses he'd propped back onto his face but you could see the frown, the confusion in his expression.

"matt," you had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself to smiling. you wanted to slap yourself for being so blind, matt you couldn't blame. he hummed. "i was mad at you for telling me to forget about it. not because you kissed me."

his expression softened, it was a sight to behold. the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly, but unsure, his eyebrows knitted for a split second as he tried to form his words into something coherent. "wait— so you—"

"—wanted you to kiss me, you idiot," you rolled your eyes, letting out an amused snort. 

"you're kidding," his words came out slow, his brain ticking over as he caught up with you. "i only told you to forget about, thinking that's what you wanted."

"i haven't been able to forget about any of it," your voice soft, unsure still of where this was going.

matt was quiet for a moment, you could see his brain working through the stages until he spoke again, his smile slipping for a second. "what about pat?" he put some emphasis on the nickname, almost making fun.

"patrick never kissed me like you did, murdock," you shook your head softly, hopeful in your attempt to convey just how stupid you'd been in all of this. "in fact, you all did a good job of scaring him off tonight. i think he realised he was getting involved in something far more complicated than he signed up for, he couldn't get out of here fast enough."

"he was an idiot anyway," matt's smirk slowly crept back onto his lips. "not good enough for you," you took a solitary step closer to him when he said this.

you hummed. "and you figured that out from a five minute conversation with the guy?"

"i know you, y/l/n," he matched you, taking a step closer, now only a few inches apart. you hummed again, watching as he stared right though you. it was in your nature to argue with him on this, but he was right. matt murdock knew you better than anybody, and he was still here, waiting for you. "he was too nice for you."

you cocked an eyebrow, your hand reached out and grabbed his tie between your fingertips, pulling it ever so gently. you hummed again. "and what would that make you, murdock?" you were teasing when you said it, but matt edged closer to you, moving with your tug of his tie. one hand jerked the bottom of your shirt, closing that last inch of space between you two, the other had moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat with a gentle squeeze.

"i can be nice," his breath fanning your face now that you were in such close proximity, he heard your own breath get caught in your throat, lips parting slightly as his brushed against yours. "but not tonight." 

[eepy-cookies]

Characters: Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N! Reader Content Warning: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Spoilers for Beast-Yeast episode 8 of the finale Disclaimer: If the characters are ooc, remember that this is made for fun. (ngl its been a while since I type a fanfic, but I am still rusty on that so bear with me, plus I found a post on twitter that SMC could also be Blue Moon Cookie but its just a guess.)

After the defeat of the jester that got away...

There was a memory in the distant past, WAY before he himself was created. Surely you have heard the tale of the first five cookies that were made before they become the beast cookies, a cookie one of the beast fell in love but...

The witches had to hide a terrible secret that if a cookie has the most missing incomplete ingredients, that said cookie is sick and cannot live until old age.

??? Cookie: "Um... Are you sure that there is a way to create a cure?"

??? Cookie: "There is a possibility I believe, as a fount of knowledge I will find the cure. But if I kindly ask"

(I remember the first meeting we have (Y/N) Cookie, it pains me to know this...)

That unfortunate cookie named (Y/N) Cookie has an incurable illness, due to the Witch's mistake, The Fount of Knowledge was desperate to find the cure for (Y/N) Cookie, the very first friend who greeted the pre-corrupted beast in a kingdom that was now long gone. One of them falls for that unfortunate cookie, their kindness, patience, and confidence they had charmed him even if he was at his lowest. He knew the pain in the future and yet, he yearned for more.

They both get along well, it was peaceful for them. He never felt any happier just being by their side, but not all happiness last much longer.

One day he was about to give (Y/N) Cookie a gift, a love letter that will never be opened and read.

???: "(Y/N) COOKIE?!" ???: "PLEASE WAKE UP!"

He stood there shocked, (Y/N) Cookie was on the floor struggling to get up. He knew (Y/N) Cookie was sick and yet their own health is getting worse by the minute, in a act of desperation he decided to look further into knowledge casting a spell on (Y/N) Cookie to keep their health in check, but as the years go by madness took hold of him and decided to cast a spell on them.

???: "My love...I am sorry...."

Madness CLEARLY took a hold of him.

Shadow Milk Cookie: "I can't afford to lose you! So I will make you as one of my puppets! Hehehe... HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!"

And yet...

Tears fell from his face, he drops down to his knees leaning closer to them.

He can't do it.

He can't harm the one he love dearly.

Leaving only behind a kiss on the forehead, and the unread love letter in their hands. He casted the spell that would last much longer in hopes to find a cure while he is away. After all he will just lie to himself that he killed them, it's no big deal.

----

Pure Vanilla Cookie: This must be the place.

Wizard Cookie: A coffin? Why this place?

Gingerbrave Cookie: !!! Look a cookie is inside!

Strawberry Cookie: Are they...still breathing?!

Pure Vanilla Cookie watch as the sleeping (Y/N) remained in the coffin, sleeping peacefully. To which he now understands why Shadow Milk Cookie was trying to preserve some of his energy, casting a life lasting spell was taking a toll on him even if he was sealed.

Pure Vanilla Cookie: I hope this spell allowed you to wake up...

With no other explanation another spell was casted, pure healing magic was casting on (Y/N) Cookie. Pure Vanilla Cookie witnessed this tragic memory, and yet he had to secretly admit, he is evil but his capability of magic was greater far from what he had imagined.

But all that's left was silence, and yet...

Everyone: !!!

??? Cookie: ...W....Wh....

Gingerbrave Cookie: Look their awake!

Pure Vanilla Cookie: (Y/N) Cookie..... are you awake?

(Y/N) Cookie: ...H...hung.....r..y...

Strawberry Cookie quickly pull out an extra supply of royal bear jellies and gently feed (Y/N) Cookie as the others watch in concern. In the corner of Pure Vanilla Cookie's soul jam they aren't the only ones who witness a miracle that was tragic yet so real.

---

Arriving at a safe in (Y/N) Cookie was put on a wheel chair carefully eating the jelly soup one of the cookies made, they themselves were confused knowing that they would pass on and yet here they are somehow alive, still sick but still living, as if someone was carrying the burden off from their shoulders.

(Y/N) Cookie looked at the letter that they kept and had not opened and kept it close to them at all times. They need to know what happen, what year is it, and most importantly...where are their only friends?

...

..

.

That night when everyone is asleep, (Y/N) Cookie wheeled their way to the balcony watching the stars holding the letter close to their chest. Wondering where did their friend go, glancing at the letter that was remained fresh despite how many years has passed. They opened the letter carefully just to give it a read.

But before they can actually read it...

??? Cookie: ...(Y../N) Cookie?"

That recognizable voice from behind, (Y/N) Cookie looked to see that what was once the one they knew was in a different appearance of a jester. They were supposed to feel fear and yet...

(Y/N) Cookie: ...Are...you.... Blue Moon / Blueberry Milk Cookie?

He walked closer to see if they are actually alive, (Y/N) is still sick but cannot walk properly. Their hands reached out to him, gently touching his cheek. His face was unreadable and yet...

Shadow Milk Cookie: Are you....awake? (Y/N) Cookie?

There was no voice is mischief or anything, just pure vulnerable voice he has left of them. (Y/N) Cookie nodded as he kneel on the ground gently yet carefully hugging (Y/N) Cookie hiding his face to their chest. (Y/N) Cookie gently hugged him back remembering the usual scent that they personally love.

His own body shaking which (Y/N) was crying in turn, wondering to themselves what happened to him when they are asleep for SO very long?

[cupcakeeees]

“Steering Right Into Trouble”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: what could go wrong with an F1 driver by your side? It’s just driving.. right?

word count: 1k

The first time Lando offered to teach you how to drive, you thought he was joking.

“Trust me, you’re in good hands,” he’d grinned, keys dangling from his fingers. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Famous last words.

It started with you sitting stiffly in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel like your life depended on it. Lando sat beside you, far too relaxed for what was about to happen.

“Okay,” he began, his tone calm and reassuring. “Adjust your mirrors, check your seat position, and remember to breathe. It’s just a car..”.

You shot him a side-eye. He laughed.

“Alright, first thing, gently press the gas. Just a little. Remember, the car isn’t going to-”

The car lurched forward as your foot pressed harder than you intended. Lando’s hand shot out, grabbing the handbrake instinctively.

“Okay, not that much!” he yelped, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” you squeaked, your hands tightening around the wheel like it was your lifeline.

“It’s fine. Totally fine,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“That’s why I’m here, yeah? Just.. maybe try pressing the pedals like they’re made of glass, not concrete.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Lando, I’m so bad at this!”

“No, you’re not,” he said with a chuckle, his voice softer now as he gently tugged your hand off your face. “You’re just learning. Besides, I’ve got the handbrake. Worst-case scenario, we spin out in an empty parking lot. No big deal.”

Over the next hour, Lando swung between being the calm, collected professional driver and a man on the brink of a heart attack.

“Okay, now let’s try turning,” he said, resting one hand lightly on the wheel to demonstrate. “Slowly, just ease into it.”

You started the turn, but as the wheel slipped from your grasp slightly, you panicked. “It’s moving on its own!”

“Yeah, because that’s how physics works,” he said, laughing as he reached over to grab the wheel and guide it. “Just keep your hands steady. I’ve got it if anything happens.”

“You’re regretting this, aren’t you?” you muttered, cheeks burning.

“No, no!” he insisted, though the way he adjusted the wheel with one hand and clung to the door handle with the other told a different story. “This is great!”

After several missteps, and a very close call with a stray traffic cone, you finally managed a smooth lap around the parking lot. Lando clapped his hands.

He leaned closer, putting an encouraging hand on your thigh. “You’re doing better than you think.”

“Really?” the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“Yeah,” flicking your nose playfully. “Now, want to try some parallel parking?”

Your groan echoed through the car, and he burst out laughing. “You really don’t want your car to survive today, do you?”

The peaceful atmosphere didn’t last long because the next disaster struck when you accidentally pressed the accelerator instead of the brake during a turn.

The car jerked forward, and Lando’s hand shot out to steady the wheel while his other hand reached for the handbrake.

“Brake!” he yelped

“I am!” your voice high-pitched with panic.

“Press harder!” he said, still clutching the wheel. “It’s not going to break, I promise - just PRESS IT!”

You managed to stop the car, both of you breathing heavily in the aftermath. Lando let out a shaky laugh, leaning back in his seat.

Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but do the same, shaking your head at him. “Be honest. How bad am I?”

“Honestly?” He paused for effect, his grin widening. “Pretty terrible. But you’ve got potential.”

As the “lesson” drew to a close, the sun dipping low in the sky, you pulled the car to a stop and turned to him, your own smile faltering slightly. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Putting up with you?” he repeated, his brows furrowing. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling the keys from the ignition. “You’re lucky I didn’t crash your car.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t bail halfway through,” he shot back.

You were finally back in the passenger seat, where you belonged. Lando took over, effortlessly handling the wheel, every movement smooth and confident.

“See?” he teased, one hand lazily resting at the top of the steering wheel while he smirked at you. “This is how you’re supposed to do it.”

You shot him a glare, slouching in your seat exhausted. “Not everyone drives for a living, you know.”

He chuckled, eyes flicking toward you briefly, “You look a lot more comfortable here anyway,” he teased, tapping your seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just.. you’re a pretty cute passenger princess. My passenger princess..”

You crossed your arms, trying to act unbothered while your cheeks betrayed you, burning bright pink even after all this time. “Oh, I see how it is, Norris! What? You didn’t like being my passenger princess?”

Lando only laughed quietly to himself, drumming his fingers against the wheel, as his other hand found yours across the console.

And so, the ride back felt easier than the whole lesson combined, even if your heart was racing faster than his car.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

[cryptidmickle]

hi your amnesiac au has me in SHAMBLES plsplspls im crying sobbing stabbing the floor

im so glad i discovered your blog 😭 your art is so lovely and nice and just. Yes. eats everythibg snd leaves no crumbs /silly

PLEASE i require more info about amnesiac au.

could this happen to the other Beasts? if it can happen to Shadow Milk, it might be possible with the others, should their Ancient counterparts get lucky with their attacks

does Shadow Milk gradually become less of an ass? does he seek answers as to Why he was so awful? does he care at all?

how horrified is he at the revelation that he was such a huge issue for the faeries + PV, if at all? he already doesn't know much about himself, so would not knowing he was such a problem, such an awful person, terrify him, considering he doesn't remember any of this?

idk. i personally would be so so incredibly horrified and terrified that i was so terrible and..well, monstrous, if i may. i kinda project onto Shadow Milk im ngl so that's probably why im saying any of this

IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG im just so,,, AAAUAGTHYBHLRHTLBFLTTKG /POS abt this entire au. hoenstly it inspires me; both your art and your ideas and concepts

hope you have a good day!! stay safe /gen

SOBS IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THIS AU!!! i read all the tags on my posts btw so if any of u went crazy in there i saw it and went crazy w u. im deranged and mentally ill if u cant tell.

i would say the cracking of the souljam and loss of power is very possible for the other beasts! the amnesia however is a Very special case of pure vanilla fucking up the spell he cast

the other beasts would be depowered and much weaker, but retain their memories...... actually, would their corruption break as well since the souljam disconnected entirely from them? hm, i think redemption would be more possible if an ancient got a lucky shot, in that case

shadow milk does in fact become less of a jerk! what with no longer being secluded in a spire losing his mind and sense of identity all by himself, his personality is forced to become. eh. LESS THORNY.

pure vanilla is socializing him like a dog and he is NOT enjoying it. but i am. put that guy in situations.

shadow milk does in fact seek answers to why he did so many terrible things! he knows his... current personality isn't the greatest, but he can't imagine doing some of the things described

he feels a certain disconnect to the him others describe terrorizing them to the him of present, while he feels bad for what happened to them he doesn't really feel apologetic because was it really him? how's he supposed to know?

should he feel sorry because it technically was him, just.. evil? would that excuse it if he doesn't feel sorry at all?

this is where shadow milk and white lily have similar dilemmas because they both have previously done terrible things to others, especially pure vanilla. they feel bad about it, they dont wanna hurt him or others like that ever again

but then this is where they separate because shadow milk doesn't feel at fault, he doesn't remember doing all those things, he doesn't even know who that was! you want me to grovel forever about it? pathetic, what's done is done anyways, why not try to do something now?

white lily absolutely despises that mindset as she's competing with pv over who can hate themselves more, and she is winning. she thinks they both deserve to repent forever for their crimes but is constantly reminded of the fact that she remembers but shadow milk doesn't! she knows what she did, why she did it, it was bad and terrible, but she understands and that's what's important and she must repent for it

shadow milk doesn't know, he doesn't know anything at all and theres even more that they can't tell him as he's apparently been evil for centuries. it's hard to argue that he needs to feel bad when the personalities are truly separated.

......i went on a ramble again.

he doesn't feel bad about what he did but he is in fact, very unnerved that he may be capable of those actions again, and with pure vanilla trying to teach him to be good and kind its...... panic inducing sometimes, that maybe he can do something terrible again, that the evil is possibly just lurking under the surface and hes fooling himself and everyone around him

[redcherrykook]

✰ ooh, come over.

✰ 01 / 02 / 3 / series m.list

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tags: bestfriendsboyfriend!jungkook, boxer!jungkook, cheater!jungkook (not on oc)

note from cherry: yeah he sucks and so does oc. Are we surprised? I hope not. Im sorry this is so rushed :(

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘Humming beneath the loud beat, inbetween the hustle of intoxicated college students, theres a melody, faint- unworthy of notice to those with ears focused on the song Playing

"You look sexy"

It whispers in your ear, for you, that melody humms on, meets your half lidded gaze with intensity of desire, eagerly brushing against the curve of your waist- merely touching- it burns down your throat as you swallow another shot of vodka

"Drinking heavy tonight?" He asks, boldly wrapping his tattooed arm around your back that's exposed from the satin cut out of your draped dress. A shiver runs down your spine, drifts back up to hammer in your chest in a warning, pouding- get out, get out

"Where's your girlfriend?"

Jungkook smirks, darts his tongue out to wet his lip ring- flicker down to your unsteady hands in a knowing gesture-

"I'm talking to her am i not?" you roll your eyes, shove him with all your playful might that only makes him inch closer- Chuckling, "Am i wrong?" Both of you know how wrong he is, you tune out that there's no word to describe whats between you when its just isolated solitude, disaster of to hot bodies falling into one another

The question remains unanswered, there's no point in wasting breaths on useless words when his lip are busied with your neck and his hands set you down on the bathroom counter, messily wandering under your thighs to squeeze the flesh through greedy fingertips. The lines of vision blurr further into nothingness and every kiss solidifies that your relationship is a mirror or terror and something more, erases the lines in a blindspot of whats thrillingly against the meaningless norm and morally vile to everyone around you.

In your hearts though, as non gulity as they beat against your chest, nothing has ever felt more right.

"I broke up with her" he mumbles into your exposed breasts, sucking the pebbled nub between his lips, groans at his tongue rubs over the sensitive skin, his fingers ride up your thigh in a pristine line.

The very bathroom runs on layers of filth. Decorated in dust of a long forgotten clean no college student has time for.

Corners filled with an old grey whisp, the reflection of your face as youre bend over the sink- the burgundy lipstick stains on the mirror, your eyes staring back into your heart, boldly wrapping its claws into the man that's nose deep into your cunt. Savouring every drop you spare him, making out with your aroused cunt like he yearns for its taste to stain his greedy tongue, the one that tells the sweetest of lies.

Filthy sounds of your shameless moans, laced with every ounce of self respect you muster up to justify what youve done- what continue to do.

Jungkook was conciously a liar as he was telling the truth.

"You taste fucking divine. never wanna stop - hmm- fucking you like this" he sings from the satin sincerity that lights up his lungs, gives him the air to breathe love into your body. Worship your skin with his own, burns your fingertips when reverting back to the lies, "i love you- ngh fuck- i love you baby"

Corners of your lips tilt up knowlingly- he's a terrible liar.

"I love you jungkook - oh fuckk-"

You've never been one of upmost honesty either. But regardless, in a twisted vine of humanity's fatal flaws, there was some truth in every lie. Some love in every lust and perhaps even every bit of hate. Pity for the less fortunate doesn't incline you to make them fortunate- seeing a homeless man you feel sorry for still makes you walk past him, avoiding his begging pupils, his shaky hands that ask for money while your hands can barely hold on to the overflow of wealth you carry.

Your best friend shed tears from a place where many more will come after she admitted to her suspicions. The late nights, the lack of sexual contact, his shirts that, oddly enough, smell just like lavender. The smell you know all to well. Easily slipped into the facade of a good friend, you console her- rub her back with the hand that holds the drops of satisfaction of her lover deep at night. Press a kiss to her temple when your lips were interchangeably attached to her boyfriends before they descended down his body that has grown intoxicated with your very own. Unfortunately, the way she lit up, leaned into your arms with a content sigh only further fed the breeding monster inside of you,

Guilt.

Guilt that you, for the first time, so firmly have something she doesn't

and it most importantly,

that it feels so good.

"I'm gonna come kook- please dont stop" You plead- meeting his eyes in the cloudy mirror, his own satisfaction on the verge of filling you up, he snakes his thumb around to fondle your clit, lips sucking into the side of your neck urgently, possessively, as if to spell his name with every bruise he left.

"that's it doll, come for me, feel so fucking good, youre all mine, mine, all mine"

Maybe he too wanted to possess something for once in his life.

Something, Someone, that no one else could have. Exclusively parading his name stitched into its system, embedded into its blood, sweat and tears- to be the best- the only.

Not to compete to be seen, a blessing, a curse to be cast upon the rest of the world.

You finish with his sloppy mouth clashing yours, saliva dripping down your chin- your thighs trembling beneath the weight of him on your back and his creamy cum oozing from your walls.

He finishes kissing you, licks up your neck, wipes down your soft, unstable thighs and mends your unstable breath with contrastingly gentle kisses that - once again, provide you the breathe that air cannot suffice.

"Let me feel your warmth a little. We can get back out later babydoll" he hums, nibbling the shell of your ear with that same- sleazy, lazy grin he loves to plaster.

You wonder briefly- about her. About the fact she hasnt texted you about their break up yet,

About how you'd normally be partying with her night now,

About her cheating boyfriend who loves venomously.

Because as night fades into the morning,

He repeats the same cycle on that monotone day, presisting their play of a happy couple, slips into the role of a boyfriend as his alarm rings 7 o'clock, reaches for his phone- clicks on her contact Information,

"Good morning baby"

he doesn't forget the claim he laid on you- after her, its your screen that lights up a few minutes past,

"Slept well doll? Miss you already"

Even good things have an end.

Especially when you ruin them intentionally.

[chaosartic]

Throw away the caution! Part 2 | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warning: shitty writing, confusing, pinning, mention of alcohol, drinking and getting tipsy/drunk

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: I’m so so sorry for the long wait but here it is, the second part! Please still ignore the terrible writing I’m still exploring with my style and such. Check out part one here!

The paddock is already bustling with energy when you and Max walked in. The journalists are trying to get some last minute shots and stories out of everyone. You wouldn’t say that you’re used to cameras being pointed at you or being quizzed by the media. But then again it didn’t surprise you that much when it happened. When Lando joined Formula One some attention also turned to his best friend whenever he was around. And since you normally spend your time during the race weekend with Max, there are some media pictures of you as well.

You stopped a few times along the way to the McLaren garage to talk with some of the drivers that you both know. When you reached the garage, the first one you saw was Oscar. “Hi guys,” he greeted the both of you. “Lando is still in the back,” he mentioned while pointing in the general direction. After a short greeting Max was already on his way to Lando. You however stayed in the front not sure if Lando really wanted you in his driver’s room after all.

“Sooo how do you feel about today?” You ask Oscar. “Excited but nervous,” he admits. “Home races are always… well different with all the fans around. My family is here as well. We’ll see how it goes,” Oscar confesses, getting slightly red around his cheeks. The younger McLaren driver was a bit nervous. At that moment Carlos decided to step up to the two of you. “Morning Carlos,” you greet him. “How was Sydney?” You ask, having just recently seen the pictures of him and Alex there. “It was good. How about your flight? Heard you arrived yesterday,” he said curiously.

“Same old, still don’t like the long flights,” you mention, Carlos knowing from previous conversations about your hate towards long distance flights. “But I’m very happy to be here for the full three days for a change.” You quickly add, gaze drifting towards the garage to see if your brother or Lando were back in the front. “I’ll go and grab something to drink. Do you want anything?” You ask the drivers but both are shaking their heads, no.

Oscar turns towards Carlos as soon as you are out of hearing range. “Am I imagining this?” he asks the Spaniard, pointing towards where you just went and where Lando is. For a quick second Carlos was confused by the younger driver's question before it clicked. “Oh, that. I’m honestly surprised that you mentioned it. And I mean the feelings are there you know from his side at least.” he confesses quietly to the Aussie, his Spanish accent getting stronger the more he tries to keep his voice down. After all, the media didn't need to know about this. “When did Lando tell you?” he asks the Aussie. “He didn’t,” Oscar says. “We spent an evening together at Max’s place. You know just us four and I saw the way he looks at here.” He admits, “he also wouldn’t shut up about her during testing in Bahrain. From what I know they’ve been talking a lot.”

”You don’t happen to know how she feels?” Oscar asks. Both ignore everything that is happening around too caught up in the conversation. “No I don’t,” he says. “I mean we are not that close so I never ask her and she wasn’t around much recently because of her private life.” Carlos adds. Oscar nodes in complete understanding. It would be weird if they just randomly went up to her and asked her about that, or would it? “They would be cute together…” Oscar trails off mid sentence. “Si,” Carlos agrees. They didn’t need to say it out loud, both drivers were on the same page. Try to figure out if you feel the same towards Lando and hopefully, depending on your answer, get the two of you together.

When you came back from getting a drink Carlos and Oscar were gone. Probably busy with preparations. You did spot Max outside casually talking to some McLaren personnel. You look around hoping to spot Lando before the first practice session. But luck wasn’t on your side. When you didn’t see the driver a strange feeling of disappointment overcame you. You could ask your brother if he knows where Lando is. It is the first race weekend after the winter break. Pressure and expectations for the team but especially Lando are at an all time high after the constructors title. Also Lando was the one to invite the both of you to Melbourne. It wouldn’t be suspicious if you ask your brother. At least that’s what you hope. You didn’t need your brother knowing about this strange situation.

“Do you know where Lando is?” You ask your brother, “I want to wish him good luck before the practice session.” “Last time I saw him he was in the garage but I think he went somewhere.” He says a bit unsure, now looking around trying to see if he can spot his best friend. “Oh okay. Well, it’s no trouble. I’ll catch him later,” you dismiss it. The feeling of disappointment only grows within you. It was as if Lando heard his name being called. He suddenly pops up out of nowhere. ”Y/n I’m so happy to have you here,” he exclaimed happily with a bright smile on his face. You know that the smile wasn’t because of you. It couldn't be.

“Just wanted to wish you good luck out there.” You say quickly, giving the Brit a hug. His arms wrap tightly around you for a few seconds before he lets go. Oscar can see the whole scene from a slight distance. The plan he made with Carlos would probably sound more than stupid to anyone else. However Oscar saw your smile when Lando gave you a hug and the slightly disappointed look as soon as he left. You are definitely feeling something for Lando, he was sure of that. And hiding that wasn’t your strong suit.

You spent as much as you could during the whole weekend with Lando. If he wasn't around your brother was mostly there to keep you company. Oscar and Carlos seem to be around her the whole time as well, sometimes directly in conversations and other times in the background. You love spending time with the other drivers so you really didn’t mind them being around.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He did it! Lando is the first winner of the 2025 season. The race was chaotic to say the least but it was good seeing your friend at the top of the podium. You couldn't be more proud of him. It was a bit after the race and you’re currently out with a few of the drivers at a local bar to celebrate the weekend. The night wouldn’t be too crazy, after all the Chinese GP is right around the corner.

You are sitting at one of the tables with some sort of cocktail in your hand. You're not exactly sure what was in it since it was a recommendation from one of the bartenders. No, you’re not drunk, nor was that the goal, but definitely a bit tipsy. Enough to loosen your tongue. Lando is sitting with you just idly chatting about whatever comes to mind.

”So y/n… can I ask you something a bit more personal?” Lando asks you. “Of course you can sillly,” you answer. “Well… it’s a bit weird but I heard Carlos talking to Oscar the other day about you uhm liking someone and I guess I just wonder who the lucky guy is..” he got out. He definitely had more to drink than you did and was already slipping into being drunk. Before he went out with you he was celebrating the win with this team.

You freeze for a second remembering a conversation you had with Carlos and Oscar on Saturday after qualifying. They came up to you and started asking questions about your relationship with Lando, not so subtly trying to get something out of you. Their goal, trying to see if you like the Brit. You didn’t really say anything to them, but your facial expression probably said more than a thousand words and told them exactly what they needed to know. It also wasn’t just a coincidence that Lando heard both of them talking about it. They planned it at the exact moment, hoping to steal some sort of reaction out of him so that one of you would finally carve in and confess their feelings.

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say to that? Sure you could be honest but that would very likely ruin everything. But you don't like lying, especially to those that are close to you. It was a complicated situation. “I… I honestly don’t know what… uhm what to say,” you stutter out a blush creeping up on your cheeks. Lando tilts his head to the side, eyes open wide and looking directly into yours. It was hard for you in this exact moment to read his body language.

“Is it one of the drivers?” he asks slowly. You just nod your head slightly still deep in your thoughts. Lando slowly and shyly took your hand that wasn’t holding the glass in his. His thumb was drawing small, smoothing circles. He took another long sip of his drink. “Can I confess something?” he asks, eyes still looking into yours but a deep reddish blush creeping up his neck. His words are slurred together with an accent thicker than before.

Yet again you nod your head, not wanting to speak too afraid to break the moment. “I- I like you y/n and I have for a while,” he mumbled almost inaudibly with the loud music. “I have for a while,” he added. For a moment you are speechless, not sure how to react. His grip on your hand loses trying to pull away. You could see the anxiety in his eyes slowly coming out through the drunken haze. “I like you too, Lando. Have for a while.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Would you like a third part where Max finds out about there confession?

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

nymph. [part 2] l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  you have been with him for a long time, but he has never seen you

Warnings:  +18, smut, fluff, oral sex (f!receiver), unprotected sex (don't do it), mythological figures treated in a simple way

A/N: I hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

>> PART 1

nymph [masterlist]

You gasped for air. Brown gentle eyes were staring at you as if you were an incredible miracle that suddenly found itself in his arms. 

Marcus wanted to say something and the words were already forming in his mouth when he saw the fear in your face. With a quick movement you slid off him, sitting on the edge of the bed, just like a wild animal that was ready to run away.

"Wait. Don't be afraid." he whispered, sitting up and slightly raising his hand, "You're in no danger from me."

There was no answer, but you didn't run away either. You watched him carefully, though. The glow of the candle flames danced on his bare chest, and his face showed curiosity, delight, but also fear.

When General Acacius woke up, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen was sitting on his hips, with a face that had haunted his dreams for so long. He wanted to get to know you, but at the same time he had the impression that he knew you so well.

"I've seen you before." he said finally. He tried to choose his words carefully, he didn't want to scare you. Your eyes twitched at the sound of his voice. "After the battle. You were standing there, in the middle of all those corpses... So beautiful and so intimidating at the same time."

"It was a terrible battle." you replied quietly, and Marcus was delighted to finally be able to hear the sound of your voice too. "Many lost their lives... Many tears were shed by the mothers of the fallen..."

He heard the pain in your voice as if you had also physically suffered during that event.

"Why did I see you?" the question he had been carrying around in himself for so long finally came out "Who or what are you, sweet bird?"

You looked away as if you were trying to find the answer to Marcus' question yourself. It wasn't easy or obvious. However, you knew that you had to be honest with him, because that was the only way both of you could enter a common path.

"I am... I was a servant of the goddess Minerva. One of many." you answered.

"Nymph?"

You nodded. "Yes, that's what you call us and that's the name we took." You took a deep breath. "You saw me, Marcus, because I lost my guard for a moment. It shouldn't have happened..."

"Why?" he was surprised.

He carried this memory of you like his most precious treasure, and the knowledge that he had acquired it unfairly, almost stealing it, hurt him a little.

"I didn't want you to know about me..." you replied quietly "I was supposed to be like the wind enveloping you, I was only supposed to watch and accompany you... I guess I got too involved."

The General moved a little closer. You quivered uneasily when his warm fingers brushed your bare shoulder, your eyes looked at him in fright.

"I've felt you by my side for so long..." he said, tracing his fingers that were roaming over your soft skin, so different from the roughness of war "You drilled under my skin so deeply that even a red-hot iron couldn't get you out. You were like a grace from the Gods, like a blessing... Don't take away my hope that you were meant for me."

"Only the Gods know what is meant for us." his fingers moved to your shoulder, and a strange shiver ran down your spine.

"So why do you say that what happened to us was just an accident? A mistake? I think that's what they wanted for us."

You sucked in a breath through your parted lips, and your chest rose sharply.

Maybe there was a grain of truth in what he was saying, maybe the Gods really had been planning this for you for years. 

Was it really an accident that you found yourself near this man? Could it be an accident that his eyes finally saw you then? You didn't know the answer to these questions. All you could do was flow with Marcus as it was planned for you...

His closeness stunned your senses, just like incense did in temples. Unconsciously, your hand found his cheek. Marcus closed his eyes as if your touch was a pleasure he had never experienced before.

"The Gods bless you, Marcus." you said, stroking his face, running your fingertips over the small wrinkles around his eyes, over the scar on his cheek. "All your successes and victories, the glory you brought to the Empire, all of this is the sum of your strength and their love."

"It's all just dust if I can't have your love, sweet bird." he lifted his eyelids and in his brown eyes you saw that these weren't empty words "May the earth swallow me, may the Gods curse me if I can't know the taste of your lips... That's all I've been dreaming about for so long..."

Not a single word left your mouth. When your lips brushed his, you already knew that you'd never forget that taste. 

The next touches were as gentle as the touch of a butterfly's wings, but Marcus wanted more with every moment. His strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you onto his lap, then he kissed you with all his might. You had never experienced a kiss like this before, deep and full of lust, almost stealing your breath and soul. 

You clung to his strong body, your hands sliding into his curly hair as you kissed him back as if that was the only thing that could keep you alive. His tongue deep in your throat drew sweet moans from you. But then you felt something else beneath you, his hard manhood twitching lustfully.

You finally pulled your lips away from his, rested your forehead against his, feeling his hands caressing your back hidden under the soft robe.

"My dreams were full of you." Marcus whispered, he looked at you, but you had the impression that he didn't see you at all, as if all his senses were playing tricks on him. "But reality is even more beautiful, more perfect..."

"Forgive me, please. It was the only way I could pretend that I was one of you, mortals. It was the only way I could accompany you, even for a moment." You slid your hands to his chest, you felt the strong beating of his heart under his skin.

"Since you are like me now, you can experience it yourself. For real."

He saw a flash of fear in your eyes, but also suppressed hope. "Do you want me, Marcus?"

"More than all the gold in the world we know. More than glory and immortality. If being with you was the last thing I would do before I died, I wouldn't hesitate for a moment."

There was no lie in his gaze. There was no empty desire that you sometimes saw in other people's eyes. This man wanted you, all of you, just as you were. He loved you before he was even able to lay a finger on you.

"So take me as I am. Give me this moment so I can love you..."

"I'll give you my whole life for this, little bird..."

You kissed again, and his hands carefully slid the robe you were wearing from your shoulders. The curves of your breasts revealed themselves before his eyes, your nipples hardened from the change in temperature and fear. But you weren't afraid of Marcus, nor were you afraid of what was about to happen. 

But you realized that every time he looked at you was the first real one. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a stolen moment on a battlefield. You were there with him. Alive, with a beating heart, with blood flowing through your veins. The same as him, mortal.

Marcus' lips kissed your jaw and slowly went down your neck, all the way to your collarbone. He took your breasts in his hands, kneading them gently, feeling their softness, his fingers caressing your nipples as his lips showered your shoulders with kisses.

"Marcus..." you sighed, closing your eyes, desire flared in your lower abdomen, and his caresses only strengthened it.

"I've never wanted anyone like I want you." he whispered, one of his hands slid lower, right between your spread thighs, "I want to lose myself in your body..."

He felt how wet you were under his fingers, proof that you wanted him too. He ran his fingers over your folds, and then found the place where your body tensed in a pleasant sensation. 

In one swift movement he laid you on your back on the bed, his lips finding yours again as his hands greedily removed your robes. Finally, you were naked beneath him, the glow of the candles dancing on your skin. Perfect.

A trail of kisses stretched between your breasts, across your stomach, and to the inside of your thighs. You gasped loudly as his hot tongue licked your core. Marcus threw your legs over his shoulders so you couldn't escape his mouth, which sucked and licked your most sensitive spots.

Moans and spasms escaped your throat, fingers tightening in his hair as he, hidden between your thighs, shamelessly brought you to the edge of pleasure.

He sucked and kissed, long licks through your folds, drinking your juices sweeter to him than the best wine. And when a loud moan escaped your throat carrying his name, he knew he had paid you the proper homage. 

He raised himself on his shoulders and looked at you from between your trembling thighs. His beard and lips were shining, his hair, thanks to you, was a total mess. But it was his eyes, darker than before, that drew you to him.

You quickly sat up and took his face in your hands, moved to kiss his lips that tasted of you. 

His whole body was tense, wanting your closeness, the relief that only you could give him. One of your hands shamelessly reached for his strained cock, stroking it. Marcus' lips parted in your kiss at this sweet pleasure.

"I beg you..." he panted "I want to feel you."

So you pulled him behind you, and he fenced you with his broad arms. The tip of his cock, guided by Marcus' hand, brushed against your entrance and slowly slid into you. A pleasant feeling of stretching and filling spread through your body, but it was only when Marcus slid in completely and hid his face by your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, that you felt that he was fully inside you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, stunned by how complete you felt in the arms of this man. You didn't notice when he lifted his head to watch your face with the first thrust of his hips. 

At first it was slow, just enough for you to get used to his size and how you felt him inside you. But when your legs closed around his waist, it was a signal for him that he could allow himself more.

Marcus raised himself on his shoulders, curls falling over his forehead, dark eyes shining with excitement as he stared into your face. To him, you were equal to the Gods. Your parted lips, slightly closed eyes, the quiet moans escaping from your core as he moved faster and harder inside you - it was worthy of worship in temples.

"Marcus... Please..."

You didn't ask for anything specific. Maybe just for him to end this, because you weren't sure if the next fulfillment that was building in your lower abdomen wasn't meant to be your end. 

Could ordinary people survive feeling so much? It was almost too much, and all you just had was your first sip, your first bite, your first breath with him by your side.

His hand grabbed yours and pressed it to the pillow just above your head, your fingers intertwined almost painfully, but you didn't care. You opened your eyes to look into Marcus’s focused face. Furrowed brows, quickened breathing and his hips perfectly slapping and grinding between your legs.

"Can you feel it? Can you feel how perfectly you fit me?" his voice was low, hitting you with a vibrating sound, as if you were a copper bowl in his hands. "They made you for me. Just for me... They couldn't be wrong. Ugh! I want to fill you with my seed, my love..."

"Do it... Mark me as yours..."

His. You were his. You were no longer just a fleeting being between worlds, doomed to live forever. You could feel, love, desire, but also suffer, cry and lose. But you wanted all of that if you could have it with Marcus.

His movements became stronger, his hand tightening on your thigh as he slammed into you. Then you reached your peak, tears pricking your eyelids, your body arching from the fulfillment that went through you like a bolt of lightning.

Marcus was right behind you. When your velvet walls squeezed his cock, he knew that he would only want to feel you for the rest of his life. A few more, strong thrusts, a low and deep moan escaped his throat as he tilted his head, showing you his beautiful neck. His seed filled you up, to the brims, and his cock twitched in the remnants of an orgasm.

If one of your sisters had been with you in that tent at that time, she would have had a truly amazing view. Your tangled and sweaty bodies, your deep breaths, the sweet and suffocating scent filling this place.

"Marcus..." you whispered, brushing his wet hair away from his face.

He mumbled something incomprehensible, and you laughed quietly. He seemed completely dazed. However, he raised his head and looked at you, his eyes sparkling like stars in the night sky.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming. Tell me you're really here. With me."

These words were like a pleading prayer addressed only to you. Even though he had you in his arms, even though his cock was still buried inside you, he still feared that you were just a dream.

"I am. I am with you, Marcus. And if you only let me, I will stay until the last beat of my heart."

"The Gods are truly kind to me."

He stole a kiss from you, still hungry for more. A strange feeling of emptiness came as he pulled out of you and lay down next to you, pulling you so that you were as close to him as possible. His seed lazily dripped down your thigh.

"Tomorrow we go back to Rome." he said, but he sounded like he didn't want to think about it. "I will take care of your safety. You will be able to find shelter in my home" his fingers drew unknown signs on your arm "I don’t want you to find yourself in the Emperor's court right away. You are too good for this..."

"The Gods have their own plans for him." Marcus kissed the tips of your fingers that brushed his lips.

"Do not say that in front of other people. Betrayal is severely punished." he said and you nodded "In Rome we can only trust ourselves, little bird. And I will do everything to make you happy and safe."

"You are enough for me."

He kissed your forehead, hugging you even tighter. Marcus was still afraid that despite everything you would dissolve like morning mist. He was afraid that he would wake up in an empty bed, that he would return to Rome alone, and the memory of you would fade with each passing day. He couldn’t bear it.

However, when he opened his eyes, after a few hours of deep and soothing sleep, you were still next to him. You were curled up at his side, sleeping, beautiful as every time he saw you. 

He didn't think he could ever get used to the sight. You were the grace of the Gods, their gift to him. A prize more precious than anything the Emperor could give him. 

"You are safe, little bird..." he said softly, kissing your temple. "I will never stop loving you. For the rest of our lives, for eternity."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal @missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing

[nor-ay]

Unrequited Love Reader and Pure Vanilla Angst bc I’ve been sad these days. (Not canon to the main story.)

The moon is captivating, you think. How it shines and covers you with its light as if it were the critic and you the performer. You feel like you’re trapped on a stage. And no matter how you try to divert the narrative, someone always finds a way to put you back in your role. And you suppose that you’re not in the wrong. You are in Shadow Milk Cookie’s domain, after all. The need to be comforted fills your heart as a tear falls down and wets your cheek, clinging to your chin.

You smell the faint scent of vanilla before you hear him talk. “[Name] Cookie, oh, I am so sorry to interrupt, but I can’t help but worry about you. You’ve been acting a bit…” 

You’re a bit annoyed, no, scratch that. You’re really pissed off. Your mind can’t comprehend what’s his deal. Pure Vanilla Cookie is someone who cares about his friends and people. He’s kind, empathetic and lovely. But at what point does he help because he really feels like it? Or he just does it out of duty? Is he always genuine? 

“Why are you asking, Pure Vanilla Cookie? What would you do if something was wrong?” He seems surprised by your tone but doesn’t comment on it. It takes him a good minute to answer, calm and firmly. 

“I would do anything in my power, you do know that, right? You are my friend, my old friend, you can count on me.” 

Shaking your head, you smile, but it feels like a grimace. Of course, you knew he was going to say that. He always says the same things, just in different fonts. You know that it shouldn't hurt you; you’re feeling like this because you are allowing it. At least, that is what you think. “That’s so cruel…you can’t say that you’d do anything and then just call me a friend.” 

“Pardon me? [Name] Cookie,” His eyes are open now, and you can’t look at him, so you convince yourself that the floor is more beautiful. “You would do the same, is that right? You told me…” 

“Ugh, let's stop dancing around this topic,” Frustration and anger flares up and helps you ignore the uncomfortable dread in your body. “I told you that because I did not mean it as just a friend. I love you, but right now, I hate you a bit for it.”

You finally look at Pure Vanilla Cookie, and his face is just so pretty that it makes you feel sickly. He’s not looking at you. “I am terribly sorry…but I can’t—“ With furrowed brows and a hoarse voice, he tries to reject you as softly as possible.

“I understand, you don't have to reject me. I was just stating it.” You can’t hear him finish that sentence. Somehow, it feels like if that thought materializes, I’ll turn true. And you so foolishly try to keep some hope for your heart.

“…[Name] Cookie,” For the first time since he found you, he approaches and holds both your hands. “I’m not very good at this. But thank you for telling me. And- we can still be friends If that’s…what you want?” 

You agree and reassure him that nothing will change and that soon this feeling will go away. Bizarrely enough, you think that it may happen sooner than you’d expect.

It’s been a while! As I said, I’ve been struggling a bit these days but I’m better. Please feel free to share your opinion on this fic as long as it’s respectful. And no, this is not canon. In the main story, the reader does not confess to Pure Vanilla. Maybe someday.

[pearlywritings]

neuvillette + guitar please 🙏

My favorite dragon man? Always

It will feel good

pairing: Neuvillette x fem!reader

prompt: random smut scenario

word count: 1k+ words

tw: NSFW, implied rut, implied marathon fucking (kinda, it's subtle), unprotected sex, thigh-fucking, Neuvi is gaining experience

~ The Music of the Night event ~

Neuvillette bites his lower lip, fisting the ruined sheets next to your head, when the wet heat surrounding him disappears. He hears you whine into the mattress as his cock slides out of your gaping hole - your walls are so slippery with your combined fluids and his hips’ thrusts are off the beat at this point, that it's no wonder a powerful push out left you empty and him with a heavy length smacking against your thigh, smearing your juices and his pre over the glistening skin.

“I am terribly sorry,” he groans through the laboured breaths, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of your sweat-bidding neck. You try to lift your upper body onto your elbows, but with a quiet moan fall back onto your chest. You feel exhausted, but not yet satisfied.

“I-It’s okay,” gasping, you still try to concentrate the remaining strength into your legs, wiggling your hips and making his cock slap between your thighs. The man above you exhales through clenched teeth, pushing his pelvis even harder into your ass, driving his length through your labia, collecting the cum that starts to dribble out. “A-actually this–oh–feels good…”

“This..?” He cocks his head slightly to the side. You attempt to rock your body back and forth, but it’s quite hard with your legs trembling from overstrain. Neuvillette releases the sheets, but you don’t have a second to mourn the loss of his weight on top of you, as his clawed hands gently run over your hips.

“Mhm, if you just help me… Help me close my thighs…” It's a challenge to speak with your head turned to the side and cheek pressed to the bed, and your lover understands that. With a careful grasp on your shoulder and still holding your hip, Neuvillette maneuvers your bodies to a more comfortable position.

Sprawled on your back you are an image of perfection: messy hair, half-lidded eyes, body covered in sweat and his love bites… He doesn't fight the urge to indulge you when you ask him for a kiss.

His long tongue doesn't find any obstacles, easily licking into your mouth, sliding against yours. His primordially beautiful eyes seem to be glowing when he looks at you, drinking in the soft fluttering of your lashes and rosy blush dusting your cheeks…

Too entranced, he almost jolts when your fingertips gingerly trace the underside of his still weeping length.

“As I was saying…” your words are an almost breathless murmur when he breaks the kiss and leans back a little, “you can push my thighs together and slide your cock between them… It will feel very good.” 

“Oh?” There is wonder in his tone, expression turning curious, as he leans back even further, until he is sitting on his calves. Big palms with long fingers, where every blue vein can be traced with a wandering gaze under the milky skin, slowly run from their resting place on your waist down to your hips and up to your raised knees. You watch him with a smile through your lowered eyelids - the way he is figuring out the position is adorable. How he tries to softly move both your shins to one side, caresses your thighs, searching for the best place to apply pressure on, until ultimately you end up with your ankles resting on his shoulders, thighs pressed together by his hold on your knees and his cock trapped between their softness.

Neuvillette glances down. At the blooming hickies. At your clammy skin. At the whitish smudges of his spent on your lower stomach. At the head and the portion of his length that is peaking out. He swallows thickly .

“Come on, love,” you encourage him sweetly, reaching down your body and wrapping your hand loosely around his cock, pressing the thumb to the slit. Neuvillette shudders, letting out a quiet moan, thrusting forward. “Just move your hips like when you are inside me and try to slide against me. Don’t be afraid to be sloppy, it’s a learning process, after all.”

And you both are already tired. But your lover experiences the first signs of his real rut, so his stamina is currently higher than yours. He just needs one more orgasm - and you’ll get to rest properly.

Slowly nodding, the hydro dragon presses a reverent kiss to your ankle, and then starts rolling his hips. His shaft is long, so it drags deliciously against your cunt, bulging veins bumping against engorged clit, smearing his dribbling pre. The man closes his eyes, focusing on sensations, on how plush you are, how even in such a position your juices wet him, how your thumb adds pressure and pleasure, how the temperature slightly changes when his soaked cock disappears between your legs and then gets exposed to the air of the room…

It’s no surprise he cums so fast, covering your hand with white and panting heavily. With a satisfied and victorious smile you watch him finally go soft; his head hangs low, bangs drenched in sweat and stuck to his forehead and cheeks, shoulders rise and fall with laboured breaths, while his long fingers leave your knees and slip lower, brushing the tips of the claws against your flushed skin and sending goosebumps running. Your previously pressed together legs slightly part.

Warmth fills your ribcage, when your lover lets your shins slide down his shoulders, falling in the crooks of his elbows and being carefully lowered onto the mattress; and then he puts his palm next to your side, leaning forward, and slumping his form onto yours, burying his face in your neck. You happily welcome his weight, wiping the cum-covered hand against the already ruined sheets, before gingerly wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Tired?” The question is filled with sympathy and Neuvillette lets a rumbling sound out of his throat, pressing his nose even closer to your pulse.

“Rather pleasantly fatigued,” you can feel his lips shape into a smile, and can’t help but grin too, starting to draw shapes with the tip of your finger on his lower back. “And you were right as always, my love.”

“Hm? About what, dear?”

“It indeed felt very good,” he pauses, as if pondering on something. You think you can guess his next words.

He’d definitely love to try it again.

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! &lt;;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter��even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.”