#unfortunately this makes things significantly harder :/

[peace-hunter]

one (1) time right after optimus obliges one of the primes' sillier requests he teases them, asking what they would've done if he hadn't become prime, if they'd gotten someone less willing to go along with their shenanigans. he says something along the lines of "aren't you happy i'm the one that got the matrix?"

and the primes don't know how to tell him that... no. they're really not. that if they'd had a say on it, he would've never been anywhere near the matrix.

not because they don't think he's not worthy of being a prime, not at all, but because they don't believe he deserves what it'll mean to be one. they cannot in good faith be happy orion became optimus because they know what it cost him and they know the pain it will bring him.

someone had to be chosen and they truly believe there was no better bot than optimus but they wish with all their sparks he hadn't had to. they wish he could've remained free from the burden he will carry for the rest of his life. that he could've remained just orion pax. even if it meant not getting to know him. they love him enough to wish they had never met him.

but they don't know how to say any of this in a way that won't hurt optimus. so they simply smile and tell him they can't think of anyone who would do a better job than him.

it's simply the truth. as much as they wish it wasn't.

[thepandalion]

self portrait of me in syntax class

[sqgeism]

Can I ask for something related to an Anaxa with a reader who gets nervous easily? An already established relationship.

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 feeling like i need something | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; feeling like i need you . amphoreus men (anaxa, mydei, phainon) with a nervous reader !

love mail — thank you anonnie for a request, i'm happy to write for you :D not much to say here, just working on a quick reqs (*ﾟーﾟ) does this count as a layout change again (;゜0゜)?

anaxa wasn't entirely sure how to help with your shyness, he was a blunt man, never afraid of confrontation or anything of the sort. but something he noticed was that you had a tendency to fidget, as a fellow professor who taught a major class, sometimes you grew frustrated with your nervousness before teaching a new lesson and possibly messing up (you never have, you're a top teacher and anaxa finds it a little humorous).

but in the faculty, you'd be going over your notes and powerpoints for the students, mumbling and picking at your fingertips. of course, not wanting you to hurt your poor fingers any longer, anaxa makes his way to your desk and pulls his chair next to yours. you look at him, furrowed brows and downturned lips, and he sighs. "here." he holds his hand out to you quietly. "i don't want you picking on your skin anymore. if you so.. need it. use my hand instead. i'll be alright."

now he has you in a loop. he knows you don't want to hurt him, even if it's something as significantly painless as picking at his skin (he gouged his eye out ..), you still don't want to hurt him. so he watches as you poke his knuckles, tug on his fingers, and just use his hand as a little fidget toy.

the morning break for teachers comes to an end, and professors part ways into different classes. anaxa, knowing you were the second teacher in his first class, decides he wants to leave you a surprise. "you'll do great, dove." anaxa murmurs as he presses a kiss to your hand, soothing your worries.

once your second class comes along, you see him exit the classroom and smile at you, holding the door open for you to enter. "how oddly cheery." you think, walking in and placing your material on the teachers desk, until something catches your eye.

"ease your worries, my dove. you're the smartest person in the room, never hesitate to speak that brilliant mind of yours."

a letter, simple as it is, you know it's from the heart. anaxa had long left, likely not wanting to be late, but your chest swells with pride.

you receive a commendation later that day, the students have all passed their homework early and had been genuinely invested in your class. <3

mydei is gentle, but still urges you to try and come out of your comfort zone. taking you to meet the children, long strolls to ease your worries after a long day, all of those little things. something you seem to particularly shy away from, is eye contact.

now mydei knows he's a bit.. on the intimidating side, but he finds it funny that you can't look at him too long or you'll turn away.

so he's made some sort of 'training' for you. which is really just staring into his eyes. sometimes (all the time) he makes it harder by caressing your cheek, or brushing hair away from your face, simple things that fluster you with ease. it's funny, he won't lie, but he wants to help you. eye contact is important during conversations (and he wants to see your eyes when he talks to you).

one day, after a few weeks of this, mydei had called you over to ask you for something. unfortunately, the warrior had 'completely forgotten'. and you two stared at each other as he tried to figure it out. the entire time, you held eye contact, even smiled at him in a baffled manner. only for him to lean down and press a kiss to your lips right after.

"you did great, sweetheart" is all he says before going on his day.

phainon doesn't mind your nervousness. he'd want to help you try and move past it, but he'd hate for you to feel pressured. so instead, he makes you laugh! whenever something makes you feel a little anxious, he cracks a joke or pulls you closer, wanting to stray you away from that experience or moment. his goal is to eliminate the cause of your anxiety, but he knows he can't always do that. so he makes due with words of encouragement, getting your spirit and confidence high as he cheers for you like he's been on a cheer team for five years. probably your biggest supporter, he's sure of it.

if you struggle with stuttering, he's sure to guide you through it. he's serious the entire time you practice a script or a presentation, helping you calm down every time you start to stutter from the pressure or grow frustrated with yourself when you forget a line.

"hey, hey, baby. you're doing great." phainon's holding down your wrists kindly because he knows you'll sometimes hit your head out of annoyance with yourself. he doesn't want that. "try again, slowly. the world isn't ending, honey. take your time."

you eventually memorize the presentation and phainon jumps out of his seat and cheers, wrapping you in a bear hug and exclaiming how proud he is of you to the aeon's.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part eighteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Over the next four days, you find yourself panting in exhilaration each morning you spar with Ghost. Every slam of your hand into his ribs feels strangely better than the last. He goes harder on you. He'd been holding back, too, apparently— an unfortunate fact for your ribs. The pain seems to motivate you more, even if he is still beating the shit out of you.

Blue also motivates you. "Hit his nose again!"

Of course, that is the one part of him you purposely avoid.

The sun returns and sweat glides down your face. You knee his stomach. It's less vulnerable than swinging a kick, but still, he attempts to grab you by the waist. You quickly skirt away, the ground firmer beneath your feet, only for his hand to latch onto one of your braids, instead. A sting pulses through your scalp as he tugs hard, wrenching your ear close to his mouth.

"Quicker. Good. But don't get too cocky."

"I thought you wanted me to be more confident," you retort between ragged breaths. 

"Yes, but you can't forget who has the advantage here." There is the slightest bit of arrogance in his voice that makes your teeth grit.

"How could I ever forget?" Your head tilts and he releases the braid. Suddenly, the thought of smacking his nose again doesn’t seem so bad.

His eyebrow quirks. "Get some water, Twix. You need it."

The water caresses your tongue as you gulp it down without abandon. Unsurprisingly, Blue has disappeared somewhere in the treetops. The lack of more broken bones has waned her interest.

When Ghost lifts his mask to drink, you steal a glance at his nose, noticing that the swelling has gone down significantly. The fact he is still wearing that thing with a broken nose upholds your theory that he is at least slightly insane— as if the fact that he once shoved a gun into your fresh wound wasn’t already evidence of that.

Out of nowhere, he materializes beside you and places a hand on your stomach. Your sore muscles spasm under the surprise of his touch, his long fingers stretching from one side of your ribs to the other.

"Your strength starts here,” he explains in a hoarse murmur. “Keep it tight and you will deliver more damage."

You purse your lips to hide a wince and tap your nose. "Don’t I already deliver enough damage?"

"The nose is fragile. You may be landing more hits on me, but I still hardly feel a thing from them."

He allows you to pry his hand off, but the pressure of it seems to linger. Ghost studies you in a way that turns you translucent before demanding, "Lift your shirt, Twix."

Exhaling through your nose, you hesitate before peeling it up, revealing the collection of bruises you have earned from him. A myriad of pink, purple, and yellow skin flares up under his gaze. They have been giving you a hard time lacing your boots and tying your hair in the morning, but once you get moving, the ache becomes easier to ignore.

He has already seen your stomach and more, yet, your skin itches from the exposure. You shove the shirt back down.

His expression shifts. "You should have said something."

"They're just bruises. I'm not bleeding or anything."

"Still."

"Still what?"

He looks irritated. "You need to fucking communicate."

"I don't see why it matters. No coddling, right?"

"That doesn't mean I'm interested in breaking you."

You jerk your chin up to meet his stare. “You won't."

Blue swings down from a tree, plopping between the two of you and unintentionally—thankfully—putting an end to the subject. "I'm glad you two are finally getting along. It's good for the team." She nudges her dad. "But are you done with her yet? You can't just hog Twix all to yourself."

He clears his throat and the air between your bodies breathes wider. "If you're getting bored maybe we need to find something for you to practice."

"Nope!" she says quickly. "Not bored at all." 

He nods to a tree. "Go on. Practice your knives. You haven't done that in a while. Then, you can have her."

With a groan, she trudges away. 

The sparring continues.

Ghost's fists soften by a smidge.

"He annoys the shit out of me sometimes."

Blue rips up a tuft of grass as you inch back to admire the swipe of color on her eyelids. It was her idea to use the bold-colored flowers for makeup— just like the models in her magazines. You did your best to mash the petals and mix them with some creekwater, but the result is kind of patchy and not nearly as smooth as the stuff you used to put on years ago. 

"Hold still. I'm doing your cheeks next."

The sun highlights the splash of freckles on her cheeks and you try to recall if Ghost had them. Her nose is nothing like his. A dainty button. Another trait she must've gotten from her mom. 

"Did you used to wear makeup?" she asks curiously, eyelashes fluttering down. 

"Sometimes. Especially when I went out."

"Went out where?"

Concentration nudges between your brows. "To clubs and stuff. It's where people would... dance."

Her lips spread as she cocks her head to the side in a manner that emulates her dad. You have to remind her again to stop moving. “Oh. Sorry. You danced?"

"I mean, not good dancing. Just dancing for fun,” you murmur, shrugging at the faint memories of being sandwiched between strangers, alcohol flowing through your veins rather than fear and adrenaline. Back then, mornings were spent nursing a hangover before class rather than earning bruises from an ex-lieutenant. 

Humor dances in her eyes when they reopen. "I don't think Ghost ever went to a club. I cannot imagine him dancing."

The images in your mind morph into something utterly laughable— him standing there like an immovable tank as people try to dance around him. "No, probably not."

"He never really tells me about his life before shit happened," she says thoughtfully. 

This piques your curiosity, but you keep your voice light. "No?"

"Well, he tells me the simple stuff. Mostly about his job. But never... never the small things, you know? Like I have no idea what he used to do for fun or what his life was like when he was a kid." She pauses a moment before adding, "He had a brother. That much I know."

You glance up. "Had?"

"He died before the virus. His mom and dad, too. But every time I ask how they died, he just says," she deepens her voice, "'Doesn't matter how, kid. Dead is dead.'"

"Oh, um, yeah, that sounds like something he would say." You tap your fingers under her chin. "I can put some on your lips, too."

Her eyes close again as she puckers her lips out. When you're done, she continues. "He also never talks about my mom." Her face twists. “I think he thinks talking about her will hurt my feelings."

For a few seconds, you struggle to find a response. The rare mention of her mom always makes your heart stutter, but this time, your broken, callused hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's okay to feel hurt, you know."

Blue shrugs and looks up at the cobalt sky. "I don't think I remember her enough to feel that hurt anymore. She feels so... far away. I remember small things, like the sound of her voice and her old apartment where I lived, but sometimes I wonder if I am making up those memories, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." A terrible urge sits on your tongue to ask her more about her mom, about what exactly her relationship was like with Ghost, but Blue changes the subject before you can.

"Does the makeup look good?" A shy blush clouds her cheeks.

You stand up with a faint smile. "I think I did pretty damn good. Come on. I want you to go look in the mirror."

Music.

It pounds so hard you feel it in your chest.

Neon walls enclose you as someone touches your backside, dancing against you. There is a man's voice in your ear that you think you recognize but it's hard to hear him through all the laughing and chatter. Your hair falls in loose curls down your back, free of braids, and you swipe it from your sweaty skin before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You push through the people. The narrow hall is shrouded with different doors... so many doors. Where is the bathroom? It must be a Friday night on Oxford Street with how fucking crowded and stuffy this place is. Someone knocks into you roughly and your footsteps quicken. A sense of urgency drags you into the next door you come across, a large one made of grey oak.

The smell is horrendous but you feel relieved to see urinals and stalls. Immediately, you press into the granite counter and grip the edge as you catch your breath. The scratched, warped mirror houses a face covered in makeup. Youthful eyes. Flushed cheeks. How much have you had to drink? You need to go home. You will pee and then go home, you tell yourself. Over and over, you repeat this as you relieve yourself in one of the graffiti-doused stalls where condom and tampon wrappers crinkle beneath your heels.

When you're done, you try for the large door you came through, but it doesn't budge. The muffled music outside has faded. Panic sears your chest. You press your back against the door. The bathroom has changed. The stalls are gone. The walls feel like they are closing in, and the smell of piss turns into something even worse. You are alone. Where is the man you came with? You look down. Dead bodies. Strewn limbs. You're standing on a pile of them.

You start screaming. Banging on the door. Digging your fingers into the wood until the flesh rubs down to bone. 

It's not a room anymore, but a box. The fluorescent lights replaced by sheer darkness.

The edges of the door disappear.

A sickening silence replaces your screams.

And then—

"Twix."

You sit up, wild-eyed. You grip onto something—fabric—and a foul taste travels up your throat without warning. You heave several times, your entire body shuddering. 

When awareness settles in, you wipe your mouth and blink up. Ghost. He is... here. Hovering over you. His shirt is tightly bunched between your fingers and you have just vomited into it. The realization smacks you awake and you recoil sharply, staring at his moonlit mask with an expression that must be just short of mortified.

"I... Fuck. I am so sorry. I don't know why— I just..."

When you dare to look at the mess you've left on him, you nearly vomit again. Hands shaking, you rub at your clammy face and begin to ramble unthinkingly as his stare flickers between you and his soiled shirt.

"I've been trying so hard not to hold back like you said, but I think it is fucking me up a little and letting out some things— memories, I guess. I was pretty good about keeping it all in my box because I've been too tired to even think about it, but now I just..." You trail off, realizing your words must make little sense. 

"You've certainly let something out," he rasps.

Your hands drop against the sofa and you cringe. "I'll wash it for you. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

You inhale. "I just fucking threw up on you."

"I'm aware."

Ghost straightens. He pinches the collar of his shirt and carefully hoists it over his head. Then, you're looking at his bare chest. Slivers of moonlight caress rigid brawn and mountainous scars that capture your gaze for a few heartbeats before you tear it away. 

"I'll, um, hang it outside and... wash it in the morning." 

Your legs are unnervingly steady when you stand up and take the shirt from him, carefully grabbing it by a dry spot. You are relieved to get away from him, draping it over the porch and swallowing gulps of fresh air before you go back inside, praying he's gone back to bed.

Luckily, he has. When the empty living room greets you, you sink to the sofa and palm your eyes. Then, you notice something left on the pillow. A cigarette. You pick it up and recall the few times you smoked whenever your friends offered one. The taste never sat well with you. 

You rummage for your lighter. The first inhale burns terribly, but you cough into the pillow and try again. It starts to calm you down after a few times, and only when you've gotten to the butt of it do you go back to sleep.

"No wonder you're not getting stronger if you throw up like that every night."

Not even five minutes into training the next morning he brings it up. The rest of your sleep ended abruptly when he got you up at an unearthly time, probably to avoid having Blue as an audience. You are too winded to even scowl, your fists held tight in front of your face as you try to predict where he will aim next.

"I told you. That was the first night in a while." 

"Right. Something about a box, huh?"

"Can we just forget about it, please?"

"Hard to forget when my shirt still smells."

"I washed it the best I could."

The next dodge has your head flying down fast enough to undo one of your braids. Hair slips over your face and you huff, holding your hand up. "Hold on. Give me a minute."

As you undo the other one and opt for shoving your hair into a tight bun instead, he watches you strangely. The feel of his stare ignites a spark of irritation and you flash him a sideways glance. "Look, thank you for the cigarette and everything else you have ever done for me, but you can stop looking at me like that. Like you... pity me. I'm not going to break, I'm not going to ask you to kill me again. Everyone left in this world has nightmares and mine probably aren't the worst of them."

"I don't pity you," he says. "I am just trying to understand you."

"Why?" You finish the bun and drop your arms awkwardly at your sides. 

"It's important to understand your ally."

"Oh. Is that what we are?"

His eyes narrow. "Obviously. I wouldn't bother wasting my time with this every day if we weren't."

"Good to know you aren't doing it because you owe me."

"You know what I mean, Twix," he growls. 

"No, I don't." You throw your arms up. "I don't know what you mean and I don't know why you never killed me because you had every reason to, and I definitely don't understand you, so I guess we make terrible allies, Ghost."

"What is with you?" He cocks his head to the side, tone mild with curiosity. "So talkative all of the sudden."

"I have no problem talking when the other person isn't blatantly ignoring me."

His brows lift. "Fair enough."

A deep inhale flares your nostrils before you spread your stance. "I'm ready now."

Despite your claim of readiness, he quickly backs you into a defensive position that has you frustrated once again. You don't understand why, but your progress slips. You keep having to adjust your stance and all of your attempts to hit him fail. It's not long before he locks you against a tree with a tattooed forearm against your neck. 

"You aren't focused today," he accuses.

"Damn, you're observant," you breathe out. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. If I wanted to listen to someone mouthing off, I'd get Blue out here." He presses a bit harder and your throat twitches. "I'm not going to threaten you anymore, but clearly, you think straighter when you channel your anger, so whatever you were dreaming about last night— get it out of your head."

He's right. You breathe deep and try sorting through everything in your head, focusing on just the anger, but it's like fishing in murky water. When he releases you, more of the same happens. This time, you end up on your butt. Ghost glares down at you, circling like a vulture.

"You were doing good the past few days. What the hell is this?"

"I told you," you say through your teeth, brushing off the dirt from your jeans. "Letting out my anger means letting everything else in the box out and it is... confusing me. Making my head fuzzy, I guess."

His chest expands with a deep breath and his pointed stare turns meticulous. "Explain this box to me."

You hesitate for a moment. "It's just... where I put away all of the shit that would otherwise make me insane."

"And what is wrong with being a little insane, Twix? This world is insane. Might as well match it."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle for an answer and rub your temples. "I don't know. Being insane means losing myself completely. I mean, I have already changed so much in the past five years. Like I said, I was never meant to be this person."

"What person? A person who survives? A person who does what she has to?"

"A person who hurts others," you grit out. "A person who kills." 

"You've killed people, right?" he roughly asks and you nod. "Then you're a killer. You were always meant to be a killer. End of story." His words strike you, and you begin to shake your head defensively, but he continues before you can muster a reply. "The past five years haven't changed you, they have revealed who you are. Now—" he raises his fists, "—open the stupid box and turn everything you feel into anger. All of it. It is valuable fuel that will continue to keep you alive."

He swings.

A kaleidoscope of long-ignored memories flashes through your brain when he hits your sore stomach. Your family. Your friends. The life stolen from you. 

And then— you recover your footing and slam a boot into his knee. It loosens his stance just enough for you to throw yourself at him, effectively knocking him over. The ground welcomes your bodies again, but this time, you grip his shoulders and wind up on top, practically laying all of your weight on him. A few harsh breaths expel from your nose before you become fully aware of the position, the heat from his chest pressing into your breasts.

Quickly, you splay your hands flat against him and sit up straight, thighs spread over his narrow hips. Ghost could easily flip you over and pin you if he wanted. But instead, he crosses his arms behind his head. 

"Comfortable?" you ask him breathlessly, raising a brow.

"Quite. Though, if this were real, I suggest an elbow to the neck once you've got them down."

"So you admit it, then. I got you down."

"I allowed it."

"Sure." Your teeth snag on your lip and you lightly brush a finger over his masked nose, detecting a tick in the hinge of his jaw. "Then I will 'allow' you to keep this for now, but next time, I might do more than just break it."

His eyes widen imperceptibly before he quickly recovers. "Ah. So you are a person who hurts others, then. Someone was trying to tell me otherwise."

Your lips twitch at the corner on their own accord. "Shut the fuck up."

He simply stares at you for a pregnant pause before clearing his throat. "I did allow it, but that was good. You focused on the anger, didn't you?"

You nod. "Yeah, I did. Is that what you do all the time?" you ask curiously. "Just get angry and kill people?"

"Pretty much."

By the tone of his voice, a deep brass that reverberates through all the places your bodies touch, you are certain he's joking. Realizing that you are still on top of him, you push off his chest and swing a leg over, careful not to knee his face or let him see the deep flush that crawls over every inch of your skin. 

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Hi, new to the WOT fandom here! What are the production issues from season 1 that you keep referring to? Thanks!

I'm so glad you're wotching!!!!!!

So when amazon commissioned the show, they originally slated the first season to be 10 episodes. After the team had written the entire season's scripts, Amazon pushed them to do rewrites on certain things and shortened the episode count to 8.

The first episode was supposed to be two episodes, probably ending episode 1 with the start of the trolloc attack and then episode 2 would be them choosing to leave the two rivers and emond's field (their hometown), and they had to shorten that to 1 episode, so the pacing in the first episode ends up really wacky and fast. I'm pretty sad about this because part of what makes the first book effective is the contrast between the sleepy pleasant small town life in emond's field and how that peace is destroyed when the plot intrudes. And I think the change made it harder for new fans to attach themselves to the main gang properly.

They also, after amazon's rewrite requests, changed Perrin's early plot significantly. Originally he was going to accidentally kill his blacksmith master, Master Luhan, and after the rewrites he was given a wife who isn't in the books who gets fridged immediately. I guess amazon thought people would only understand the emotional significance of killing a lover and not a mentor. I really didn't like that choice when I first watched it, but I do think now they're going to do something interesting with the aftermath of the dead wife stuff in Perrin's s3 arc.

The shortened episode count also impacts the pacing of the end of the first season, which also got crunched together a bit. The end of the season also had further problems because covid happened, and the last two episodes were interrupted and had to be filmed after a hiatus and with new covid protocols in place, so the characters can't touch during some key scenes at the end. They had to rewrite the scene where Nynaeve and Egwene almost burn out during the battle of Tarwin's Gap on the day of shooting, and I think the scene is less effective as a result.

Also, one of the main actors was unable to return after lockdowns for possibly covid related health reasons, Barney who played Mat, so that's why it was changed and edited so that he doesn't come into the Ways with them in episode 6, and they also had to rewrite the last two episodes to accomodate his absence and then recast Mat for s2.

As a result of all this, episode 1, 7, and 8 in season one are all a little rough around the edges and a lot of book fans, including me, didn't really like the first season when it was airing. I like it more now upon rewatch now that I can see all the stuff they did manage to set up really well for the long haul of the story, but the first season had a difficult reception when it aired, and I think a lot of people let that less than stellar first impression color their opinion of the show as a whole. Which is unfortunate, because almost all* television shows improve as seasons go on and the team behind the show gets into the groove with it, and this one definitely improves each season.

Season 2 was written with the knowledge that it would only be 8 episodes, and they didn't have any interruptions during filming, so it's significantly better in its pacing.

[gds-daisy]

stuck by the glue

summary: the one where jiyong makes sure you’re okay when you’re sick

warning: graphic depictions of sickness, jiyong literally being the best husband known to man, fluff.

a/n: i started writing this when i was literally dying from my illness a month ago HELPPPP

You felt like hell on earth. On your day off of all days.

At first it started with a headache, but now it had been several days and the pain was still present in your temples. That wasn’t the only thing though. A few more symptoms had manifested—signs of a cold, a gnarly one at that. You had developed a nasty cough that made you feel like razor blades were attacking your throat and a stuffy nose that made you feel like you were underwater. The coughing was the worst bit. Not only did it give you a sore throat, but it also made your headache that much worse. You were suffering and there was barely anything you could do about it.

You had taken the bitter cough medicine that you absolutely despised and used your prescribed albuterol inhaler when your cough would flare up significantly. None of it worked. You felt like a prisoner in your own body and you felt hopeless. How long would this last? A few days? A week and a half? You had no idea. The only thing you could do right now was hope for the best as your body was currently strewn across the bed, used tissues alongside you. To make matters worse, your husband Jiyong was currently at the studio, recording a song for his new album. You yearned for his presence and would do anything to have him here right now. If he would’ve known you would get sick so quickly after he had left in the morning, he would’ve taken the entire day off to nurse you back to health. That’s what you loved about him. He was so loving and doting toward you in every sense of the word, which there was no denying.

All of a sudden, you could feel your airways become more tight as they were trying to take in more air. You quickly grabbed your inhaler from your bedside table, shaking it vigorously before taking a puff from it. You finally exhale and feel your breathing return to its previous state. Not for long you presumed. You groaned as you rolled around in bed, now throwing the soft blanket over your chilly body. You had accepted defeat at this point and the only thing you could think of was getting some rest. Not only was your body tired, but also your mind. You needed peace.

With each passing second, you found it harder to remain awake. Slowly but surely, your eyes began to close, an indication of just how run down you had become. Your eyes were now completely closed and you had dozed off entirely. If you had waited a few more minutes before going to sleep, you would’ve heard the buzzing noises emitting from your phone.

It was Jiyong.

Jiyong was worried beyond belief. He had been calling you over and over again with no such luck of reaching you. This wasn’t like you at all. You never let his calls go to voicemail. He was already a chronic overthinker and this wasn’t helping. He knew something was wrong. Or maybe he was reading too much into it? Either way, his mind wouldn’t let him rest until he knew what was going on. Today was a big day on set of filming his new music video and he knew productivity was important, but you were even more important. This could wait.

He had gone out to the set to announce the news that he would have to leave early. He was the creative genius after all. It probably wouldn’t sit well with most, which he felt bad about, but he wouldn’t be at his best with his mind racing like this.

“Attention everybody! Unfortunately a personal matter has risen that needs my immediate attention. We’ll have to postpone the shoot until further notice,” he shamefully admits to the entire cast. He could see the disappointment on their faces and it killed him. They shared the same passion he did when it came to the filming process. Jiyong could see that through their eagerness.

The entire crew bowed down out of courtesy for him to which he returned the favor. Even though they were somewhat bummed out right now, they understood that he was a human being just like them. With that, he starts walking briskly towards the exit, exhaling sharply as he does so. Before he knows it, he reaches the exit and opens the door before making his way out. He's met with the sight of his personal car parked in the street. Usually, his chauffeur was the one to pick him up from shoots, but he was currently occupied at the moment.

He wastes no more time before hopping into his car, starting the ignition as he does so. His concern was growing by the second and he couldn't stand another second of it. What if you were purposely ignoring him? What if he had upset you unintentionally? There were too many other "what if's" that came to his mind. His creative, overthinking mind. He wouldn't be at ease until he knew the reason why you were letting his calls go to voicemail. He prayed you were still at home because if you weren't, he would be in agony not knowing for hours if you were mad or not. The man was dying to know for sure.

Finally, he backs the car up, attempting to get out of the parallel parking job he had done. Luckily, there were no cars behind him, which was a surprise to him, but a good one nevertheless. He manages to back up far enough to have enough room to make a swing a sharp left, now driving like a madman.

The 20 minute drive from the studio to your guys' house seemed like ages to Jiyong. He had definitely broken multiple traffic laws along the way, but he couldn't care less about that. His main concern was you. He was now rushing out of his car, not even bothering to lock it in the process. Jiyong noticed that your car was still here, which was a relief to him because if you were actually upset with him, he would be able to smooth things out between you sooner rather than later.

He reaches the front door before instantly swinging it open. Once he steps foot inside the house, he surveys the area like he was some sort of wildlife expert. After a while of looking around with no triumph in locating you, he finally makes his way to your guys' bedroom. When he gets close enough, he notices that the door is slightly creaked open. He reaches his hand out, now pushing the door further back. The sight he's met with is distressful. There you were, strewn out on the bed with an army of tissues surrounding your unconscious body. Next to all those tissues were your inhaler and cough medicine. That's what concerned him.

You had been prescribed an inhaler a few months back due to respiratory issues that had arisen with the change in weather. However, it didn't feel like seasonal allergies. This was something different, even now. The doctor said to only use the inhaler when it was absolutely necessary. This wave of sickness was one of those times.

Even though Jiyong was relieved that his overthinking had been all for nothing, he still hated this. He hated knowing that this was your day off and you couldn't even spend it like you wanted to. He hated that you had to rely on all this medicine that probably didn't help all that much. He hated knowing you were in agony even if you were sleeping at the moment.

Jiyong inches closer to the bed before he sits next to you, the bed dipping a bit underneath in response. He took that moment to run his fingers through your messy hair, feeling a sense of guilt that he wasn't here sooner. At the same time however, he was just glad he could take the day off if it meant taking care of you.

Suddenly, he feels your body shift ever so slightly, which he was alerted to instantly. You roll over a few times in your sleep and before the two of you know it, your eyes flutter open. Your vision was a bit blurry at first, a result of opening your eyes a bit too quickly. Despite this, you could feel a hand nestled in your hair. Luckily, your vision was becoming more focused by the second. You didn't need your vision to know that it was your doting husband, your Jiyong.

"Hi jagiya, welcome back," he says with his adoring smile and his smoother-than-honey voice.

"What are you doing here Ji? I thought you were at your shoot," you question him.

"I was, but when you weren't answering my calls, I got worried and rushed over here as soon as I could," Jiyong answers honestly, his eyes still full of sorrow.

You felt your eyes prick at his words, feeling guilty as all hell. How could you allow this to happen? You made this doting man leave his shoot over you. You should've texted him sooner saying you were sick so this entire situation could be avoided in the first place. You felt even more horrible than you did before you woke up, but not physically. It was your emotions that had made you feel this way.

Like some sick joke, your body betrays you and now your eyes are flooding with streams of tears. "I-I'm sorry Ji. I made you all worried for n-nothing," your voice shaking in between audible sobs.

His hand, which was still tangled in between your locks of hair, found its way to your face, now cradling it. "Shh shh...it's okay, aein. You didn't make me do anything. I wanted to. I wanted to make sure you were okay," Jiyong coos, trying his best to reassure you.

"But your shoot-" you blurt.

"That can wait. You're my number one priority and you always will be," he says, his fingers wiping away your tears as best as possible.

"How did I get someone like you, Ji?" you ask.

"I should be asking myself the same question, jagi. But none of that matters. The only thing that matters is that we have each other," he says adoringly. "I'm going to take care of you until you're all better, I promise you that."

He moves his face closer to yours, his lips hovering over yours for a split second, but not for long. Before you know it, he presses his lips against yours and the whole world seems to fade for you. The kiss was filled with devotion and tenderness, the soft kind. Jiyong wanted to make sure you know how far he would go to fulfill his promise of taking care of you, through sickness and health. And that's exactly what this kiss was. A vow of his commitment. To you.

The kiss is finally broken before the two of you know it and all you can do is stare at his angelic face in awe. His eyes had softened and his smile grew even bigger. This man was the love of your life and you knew that for a fact. He was eternally yours and you were eternally his.

"You best hope you don't get sick from me," you say jokingly.

"It'll be worth it if I get to spend time with you, aein. Besides, you already made me sick...lovesick," he says with the cheesiest grin you have ever seen on ones face.

"You're a dork, Ji," you say before playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

"Only for you, sweetheart."

[sgojoenthusiast]

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ KINKTOBER 2023 ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

➸ DAY THREE: BREAK-IN. ✧.* toji fushiguro x reader

summary: During yet another fight with your boyfriend, you hear strange noises coming within your new apartment - but don't worry, it's just toji fushiguro breaking and entering to steal your things and fuck your brains out.

cw: fem reader, breaking in, mentions of a toxic relationship, cheating, your boyfriend's a dickhead who cheated first, that doesn't mean i condone cheating tho, mirror sex, fingering, p in v, perv toji, he steals ur underwear, age gap, reader is like early twenties and toji is late thirties, 'slut', 'princess', 'sweetheart', toji takes a video of you and sends it to your boyfriend, i might have forgotten something so please let me know.

word count: 4.9k likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy. masterlist

-`♡´-

You lay in the bed of your new apartment in nothing but your boyfriend’s shirt as you texted mindlessly on your phone, not paying any attention to whatever was going on around you but, why would that matter? You were in the comforts of your own apartment and your own room, right? Wrong.

If you hadn’t been paying attention to your boyfriend starting, yet another, argument over text, you might have heard the rustling of items behind your walls.

In your defence, there was a lack of movement or footsteps to be heard. The way Toji moved was inaudibly and stealthily, looking for anything that may be of a rich value.

Unfortunately for him, you had just moved in, so most of your belongings were in boxes, making it significantly harder for him to silently rummage through.

Toji wandered about your apartment purposefully, stumbling upon a framed picture of you and your boyfriend. On one hand, you were smiling gleefully, looking at your boyfriend as though he had galaxies packed away in his eyes. On the other, however, he was looking away, an expression of boredom painted on his face.

Toji couldn’t help but scoff, if he had pulled someone as hot as you, he’d be the one taking the pictures and having them be the first pieces of decor he hung in his apartment, smiling genuinely and showing you off proudly.

Stupidly, he had the amazing idea of knocking the picture frame off the mantle it stood on and ‘accidentally’ stamping on it. Truthfully, he had zero reason to do that. The only things he knew about you was what he had found out pre-breaking into your home, you could’ve been the misery of your relationship causing your boyfriend to appear so unhappy.

Yet, from the way your eyes sparkled to innocently and full of a need to prove yourself, he could immediately tell that wasn’t the truth.

Upon hearing your confused footsteps reaching your bedroom door, Toji panicked and darted for your bathroom.

Dumb thing. He thought. Who in their right mind’s first instinct when they hear a possible intruder is to step outside to check it out, completely defenceless, and without bringing your phone?

You looked around your apartment warily, creaking your door open a touch aiming to see if anyone was outside. “Hello?”

No reply.

Noticing the fallen picture frame, you sighed, walking out to put it back in its place before heading back to your room with relief painted on your face.

Toji let out a breath of ease, relaxing after hearing your door slam shut but not taking any chances of leaving the bathroom so soon. 

Looking around, he noticed your washing basket and smirked. A pair of lacy, pink panties sat at the top of the pile, practically begging for him to shove them into his pocket - and who was he to refuse? His dick twitched in his pants, yet he paid no attention as he pressed his ear against the door aiming to hear whether you were still out there.

Once he was positive that you were back in your room, he grabbed his bag and gently pushed the door open.

It was strange, he’d only ever seen a dull picture that depicted your sad relationship of you, yet he couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind, specifically, the image of you bouncing on his cock endlessly and wrapping your lips around his dick. He’d hardly heard your voice, yet he could hear your moans so perfectly. He was perfectly able to picture your body in such lewd, shameless positions even though you had no idea he existed.

Toji was a man driven by two things, his heart which yearned for wealth and fortune, and his dick which yearned for women like you.

He tried to push away his disgusting thoughts, yet they were overwhelming. He scolded himself mentally, who fantasises over a woman they’ve never locked eyes with? Toji felt truly pathetic. 

Over in your room, you sniffled painfully, reading the recent messages from your boyfriend, who was blaming you for the fact that he had cheated. Despite this, you were still wasting all your effort apologising. Eventually, he would want you back, once he was bored with the girl he had cheated with, however, you still cared for him nevertheless. 

Your throat was tired from all the crying, so you decided to exhaustively move out of bed to grab a drink, your feet were light on the floor, hardly making a sound - and hardly warning Toji of your upcoming presence.

By the time he had realised you were coming, your door was half way coming and you had already caught a glimpse of his broad, noticeable figure. 

When Toji’s cold eyes met your fearful ones, his heart began to pound with swarms of different emotions. Firstly, he felt annoyed with himself for not noticing that you were coming until it was too late. He also felt nervous that he had fucked up the robbery, yet confident that he could twist himself out of the situation he had put himself in. 

Yet, there was another part of him that caused his heart to stop, not with annoyance or nervousness, but with an infatuation with the fearful look in your teared up eyes. An obsession with the way your thighs looked from peeking out under your shirt. He couldn’t take his eyes off you - you looked so much better than the photo on the mantle. 

You were frozen in your space. Your mind was flooded with questions. How didn’t you hear him? How long has he been here for? Did he knock the photograph down? Why couldn’t you take your traitorous eyes off his body which looked as though it had been sculpted by gods? Why on Earth was there that familiar ache in between your legs when you looked at him? 

Realistically, the best thing to do in this scenario when you’re defenceless facing a man who could, most likely, take you out with only a finger, would be to scream. However, your throat had gone even more dry than before and you felt like you couldn’t use your voice - even if you wanted to.

Of course you wanted to, a man had just broken into your apartment and was carrying a bag full of what was probably your stuff, judging by the open boxes you were certain you had taped shut. Also, even despite your initial lustful thoughts, you were committed to your boyfriend 

Your boyfriend who hadn’t picked up his phone in a while, even though you were mid-trying to sort things out between the two of you and salvage whatever was left of your relationship, probably because he was having sex with the same woman you were arguing about. 

Both of you just stared at each other for a while, trying to find words.

You were the first to speak up. “You need to leave, my boyfriend will be here soon and I swear to god he’ll beat the shit out of you.” You attempted to intimidate.

Toji only tilted his head at you with a false look of comfort etched onto his features as he concealed his smile at how cute you were when you were trying to scare him off. “Hm, you’re boyfriend, huh?” He started making his way over to you at a leisurely pace. “He got nothin’ to do with how puffy your eyes look? Or why you’ve spent the entire time I’ve been here cryin’?”

His bold, yet truthful, assumptions startled you, and caused some sort of realisation to stir inside your mind. Now, you didn’t want to think negatively of your boyfriend. He used to be so sweet until his kind words turned bitter and his cute jealousy turned controlling and hypocritical, considering he’d sleep with whoever’s eyes would linger.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, princess, not like this so-called boyfriend of yours.”

Trying to keep your composure was the last thing on your mind. “You don’t know anything about me and my boyfriend, and don’t call me that.” You snapped at him, trying to defend your horrible excuse of a boyfriend, even if his words provided you with a sense of disturbing comfort. Toji only laughed and rolled his eyes. 

Testing his luck, he got closer and closer to you. “You’re right, I don’t. All I do know, is that if i was your boyfriend, I wouldn’t leave you alone in a new apartment in this shithole of a city to spend your entire night crying whilst ‘m off fuckin’ some other girl. I mean, that’s what he’s doing, right? Haven’t heard your phone go off in a while.”

You realised that this current moment, where a potentially dangerous man was standing in front of you ready to possibly kill you at any moment, was probably not an appropriate time to rethink every moment you ever spent with your boyfriend and to contemplate whether waiting for him to reply was the best thing for you. However, when even a potentially dangerous man can recognise the present toxicity of your relationship, it’s difficult not to. 

Even so, you couldn’t let your vulnerability slip through any cracks. Now, you were quite certain he wasn’t going to hurt you. In a strange way, he made you feel protected and that scared you slightly. Yet, the way he spoke to you, it gave you a sense of security you had never felt with your boyfriend.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, princess, not like this so-called boyfriend of yours.”

Truly, you believed him. Perhaps that's why you let your guard down.

“If you were my boyfriend, hm?” You tilted your head up at him, a seemingly innocent smile playing on your lips. “You don’t even know me, yet you’re already fantasising about being my boyfriend. Plus, I don’t even know your name.” 

This surprised Toji, though, he wasn’t going to deny that your newfound confidence was incredibly alluring. He took a couple more steps towards you without even knowing, like he was already caught in your trap. However, he already understood that he was addicted to you without even a single taste.

Toji replied with a curt, cold laugh. “It’s Toji, and you’re talking a lot for a woman who’s flirting with a criminal yet doesn’t even have the guts to break-up with her boyfriend.”

Neither of you had realised the close proximity between your bodies until the final syllable fell from Toji’s lips. You felt suffocated, yet not trapped. You couldn’t find your breath but in this moment, it was the last thing you needed when his lips were right there.

“Yet here you are, breaking into my house, clearly desperate to fuck me, and getting so pissed off at the sight of my boyfriend you broke the picture of us.” You deduced. “That is what happened, right?”

His lips twitched but the rest of his face remained stoic, refusing to portray any hidden emotion he was feeling.

“You’re just a pervy old man desperate for some pussy. The sight of me smiling with my boyfriend pissed you off that much, hm? And yet, I’m the slut flirting with a criminal.” 

Toji had you up against the wall in a matter of seconds, his hand wrapped around your throat, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to send the right signals.

“You proud of yourself, princess? Yeah? You enjoy riling me up, tryna get a reaction out of me?” Your lips were parted in a silent moan before they morphed into a victorious smirk. Toji barked out a humourless laugh. “Of course you do, this is the reaction you wanted, wasn’t it. You’re a fuckin’ slut princess, a bratty little girl begging to be put in her place. Now, you listen to me, okay? Go and wait for me in your room. You take off that shirt as well, alright?”

His grip on you loosened and he took a few short paces back. You nodded, and his sharp eyes followed you as you walked into your room and waited for him patiently, sitting on the edge of your bed.

Toji’s mind was plagued with second thoughts.

On one hand, he knew he had to fuck you the moment he saw you. He was plagued with infatuation and lewd thoughts of all the positions he’d see you in. On the other, this was not what he came here to do. It benefitted him little to fuck you mid-robbery instead of doing what he came here to do and making money off it. 

Pacing around your apartment, it took him no more than ten seconds to shove those thoughts away, knowing that you were waiting patiently for him in nothing but your underwear. He scolded himself mentally for getting distracted, dragging a hand frustratedly down his face, before opening your door and leaning against the doorframe. He smirked, taking your figure in and ran his tongue across his lips before beginning to make his way up to you.

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your legs pressed together tightly due to the guilt swarming your entire body. You had a boyfriend, what were you doing sat half-naked in front of a man who had just broken into your house.

Toji walked up to you, his footsteps suddenly audible and heavy on your ears. The sound was intimidating, you felt like you couldn’t breathe in the moments that he was walking up to you. Each time the sound of his boots hit the ground, you heard the sound of shouting at you to get out and beg for your boyfriend’s forgiveness for even thinking of committing such a sinful act.

…Yet, your boyfriend had never made the feeling in between your legs so intense. And Toji knew this. 

“Your boyfriend don’t make you feel good enough, sweetheart? You gotta fuck a stranger who broke into your house instead?” He cooed, in a wicked and cunning way, like he tried to sound gentle, yet you could only hear the disgusting and lustful thoughts that were rotting his mind.

Nevertheless, you shook your head. You had admitted to the man that broke into your home that your boyfriend can’t even make you come. Feeling disgusted with yourself, you lowered your head in shame.

Disappointed, Toji tutted in disapproval, taking his index finger and placing it under your chin, raising your head to meet his displeased eyes.

“You keep your eyes on mine. You got that, sweetheart?” He chastised. His thumb parted your lips and he slipped it into your mouth, you complied, sucking gently as you nodded at his request, staring up at him with wide, lust-filled eyes.

Toji couldn’t believe his luck. How on Earth had he managed to conveniently break into your house? The moment his eyes met yours, his entire life, everything he had worked hard for, everything he cared about suddenly meant nothing. And now, as he watched you take his thumb into your mouth and sucked it whilst keeping eye contact, just like he had asked, he felt this obsession of his magnify by hundreds. He had no clue how he’d ever move on after this - but maybe he didn’t have to.

Just the thought of your (future) ex-boyfriend fumbling so hard made him want to laugh but also kill him for breaking your precious heart. Yet, there was no need to worry, as Toji was here to stitch it back up again and keep it for himself. How could someone be so stupid as to fuck up their chance with you? It confused him, pissed him off, yet excited him all at the same time.

Moving away from you, Toji went to sit in front of your headboard. He signalled for you to come over to him, to which you obeyed with little hesitation.

That's when Toji noticed the conveniently placed mirror in front of your bed. His reflection stared back at him, watching the smirk that invaded his face.

For the most part, your room was bland and messy, having just moved in. Toji couldn’t have thanked you enough for having put up your mirror right in time for him to fuck the life out of you infront of it.

“You put that shit there on purpose? Wanted to watch me fuck ya brains out, princess?” He questioned.

You were on all fours in front of him, one of your soft, smaller hands placed gently over his muscled thigh. Looking up at him, you smirked. You sat up so that you were now on your knees before shrugging at him with the sole purpose of winding him up. He rolled his eyes at you for what felt the one millionth time that night, yet that didn’t stop the genuine smile taking over his features.

He flipped you over with ease, so that you were sitting in between his legs and staring at him through the reflection of the mirror. 

Biting your bottom lip, Toji looked at you with eyes devoid of any signs of warmth or amiability, and yet all you could think to do was press your thighs together.

Toji began to kiss down your neck and towards your shoulder, before he got to the strap of your bra. “I don’t think we need this, do we princess?”

A soft moan fell from your lips at the feeling of his voice mumbling against your skin. His hand began to trail further down your body, and as he reached the hem of your panties, he snapped the fabric against your hip. “Or these.” He continued with that same, low voice that reverberated through your skin and sent your mind into a questionable, clouded state. You shook your head in agreement, and lifted your hips up to assist him as he took them off you, tossing them to the side before proceeding to do the same with your bra.

Neither of you wanted to wait any longer, both of you just as desperate as the other to feel one another.  “Can I touch you, princess?” He asked, though he could feel himself shaking from holding back. 

You could only spew out a mixture of yeses and his name whilst you nodded profusely, desperate for him to please you. And who was he to deny you? Not even a man with more dignity, respect and self restraint than him could say no to someone like you. 

Spreading your legs apart, he muttered lowly, “Fuck, princess, look at this pussy, all wet f’me.” You could see him smirking in the reflection of the mirror. Toji released his hold on your legs and grabbed your arms instead, replacing where his hands were previously with your own. “You keep your legs up and spread for me, okay? If they close, I won't be happy, sweetheart. You got that?”

You nodded, keeping your hands on the back of your legs, keeping them open for him. One of his hands snaked around and held onto yours, in order to make sure you didn’t close them. The other, however, ran up and down the fat of your thigh.

It moved across your stomach and past your breasts at a slow, torturous pace. Your pussy was aching and begging for him, for any kind of stimulation yet he carried on with a sinister smirk. Once he had reached your face, he cradled it gently, causing you to look up at him. He captured your lips into a slow kiss, used only as a distraction as the hand over yours moved towards your pussy before he broke away and dipped a harsh finger into your hole. You gasped at the unexpected sensation, so he took the opportunity to shove two of his thick fingers into your mouth.

Gagging slightly at the penetration, you looked up at him with blurry eyes. Your tongue moved around his fingers causing his dick to twitch in his pants. His face morphed into one of fascination and obsession. He couldn’t believe you were letting him fuck you and he’d be damned if he was going to let you go.

Removing his fingers from both your mouth and your pussy, he took the saliva coated fingers and ran them through your, already soaking cunt. You let out an alluring moan as your hips bucked up into his fingers. His other hand, went back to its previous position of helping you keep your legs spread open and up for him.

His fingers dragged through your folds and lightly grazed over your clit resulting in a whimper falling from your lips. “Please put them in.” You asked, voice shaky and whining, not far above a whisper.

“Well, seeing as though you asked so nicely, princess.” The tone of his voice was dripping with sarcasm and laced with mischief.

At once, he shoved two fingers deep inside your aching hole. The unexpectancy of him putting two in caused you to attempt to close your legs whilst you thrashed in his hold, moaning pathetically when he began to pump them slowly. 

Taking his spare hand, he slapped your thigh harshly. “The fuck did I tell ya about closing your fucking legs, princess?” 

Opening out your legs again, muttering a weak apology, Toji decided that he could no longer trust you to keep them open. Using both of his arms, he kept your legs spread as his fingers were still knuckle-deep inside of your hole. 

Now, when you stared up into the mirror, you could see both of Toji’s arms separating your legs from ever touching as one of his hands was preoccupied with bullying your hole and the other was toying with your clit. “Much better, ain’t it princess?” he laughed, his hands relentlessly bringing you closer to your orgasm. “Now, keep these pretty little eyes right on where I'm playing with ya cunt, understand? If you disappoint me again, I won’t be as nice.”

“Mkay Toji, I promise.” Your eyes stared into his, watching his scarred lip curl into a satisfied smile.

“Good girl, now let me play with this slutty pussy of yours.”

He began to kiss down your neck, yet his wicked eyes never left yours. Not even as he began sucking bruises onto your skin, claiming you as his own.

His fingers thrust themselves into you at a relentless pace, desperate to pull your orgasm from you and to make you feel the way he felt from just looking at you.

You couldn’t stop moaning in his hold. The feeling of his thick, long fingers plunging in and out of your aching cunt, reaching places you hadn’t ever been able to reach on your own, sent you spiralling, unable to think about anything other than his quick and skilled fingers hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

Toji was in a trance as he watched his fingers pump into you and he wanted nothing more than to watch you cum on his fingers. 

His speed was unforgiving and otherworldly. Never had you felt so full and pleasured just from someone’s fingers, but then again, you had only ever been with your boyfriend who couldn’t even make you come with his dick.

Everything was too much. His thumb on your clit sending sparks through your entire body, his fingers thrusting deep inside of you, the sight of your pussy dripping and his strong arms between your legs in the reflection of the mirror. You couldn’t focus or breathe. It felt so amazing.

Soon, you were coming all over his fingers, your hips lifting in the air as you bucked up into his hand whilst you dripped over your sheets and his hand. You were ninety percent sure you’d never be able to go back to any other man or just your own hand after having a taste of his.

All guilt and regret left your body as you moaned and writhed in his grip.

Toji cursed as he watched your face contort with pleasure and your pussy clench around his fingers. If his cock wasn’t aching to be freed, he was positive he’d finger you like that for the rest of the night.

You collapsed, exhausted, in his arms. As you tried to catch your breath, Toji brought his own fingers to his lips and groaned as he tasted you. “Fuck, princess, I’m gonna have to eat ya out another time, cause fuck do you taste good, but I really need to fuck you right now.”

You laughed, still breathless. “You planning on coming back then?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t plan on leaving you for a moment. You’re mine now, you got that princess?”

Before you could answer, he captures your lips in a kiss, but judging from the approving moan you let out against his lips, you had no issue with being his.

Toji grabbed your hips and lifted you over his lap so that you were now straddling him. 

Quickly, you removed his shirt and he was fast to take off his pants as well so that he sat underneath you as naked and vulnerable as you were.

Your eyes couldn’t remove themselves from his dick. It was so incredibly long, veiny and thick. The biggest you had ever seen. You were nervous to have him inside of you, but any fear was overshadowed by the immense desire to have him fuck you.

Despite you being on top, Toji had every bit of control. His hands were strong as they gripped securely onto your hips, grinding you against the tip of his dick. You whimpered slightly as your clit grazed his tip, still slightly overstimulated from your previous orgasm. However, this didn’t stop him from shoving his tip inside, causing you to whine slightly and moan out his name.

Slowly, he began to sheath his entire dick inside of you. Your hands reached for his hair and tugged gently. 

Once he was fully inside of you, he wasted no time in picking up the pace until he was bouncing on his cock at an unbearable speed. 

You felt completely fucked dumb as he bounced you up and down on his dick, your head unable to support itself so you buried it in his shoulder. Your moans and words were fragmented yet loud, unable to keep up with his pace.

Unexpectedly, your phone began to go off, and you both immediately knew who it was. Toji had stopped pummeling his cock in and out of you, causing you to push yourself up to look him in the eye.

“Jus’ ignore it, Toji. I don’t care ‘bout him anymore, just want your dick, please-”

Without warning, Toji flipped you both over. Now, you were underneath him with your leg propped up and his dick back inside of you. His entire demeanour had shifted, as though he had something more to prove despite having said it all already.

Grabbing your phone, he forced you to open it. He was still as he read the messages your soon-to-be ex was sending. His tongue rolled over his teeth in frustration and annoyance, before suddenly he opened up your camera and began to plunge his dick into you at a seemingly faster speed than before with your camera pointed at where his dick met your pussy.

He was only recording for a few seconds before he hit send, silenced your phone and shoved it back onto your bedside table.

You were too fucked-out to argue even if you wanted to. A small fraction of you felt some sort of satisfaction knowing you had gotten your revenge.

The other part of you was simply too focused on the feeling of his dick hitting that same spot within you relentlessly. 

Your leg was thrown over his shoulder, allowing him to bury himself far deeper than before. “Sh-shit! You feel tha, sweetheart? Feel me all deep inside of you, hm?”

You could barely form a coherent response other than a loud whine followed by: “So fuckin deep, Toji!”

His hair was sticking to his forehead as he stared at you through half lidded eyes. He adored this expression on your face and he adored the fact that he was the one causing it even more, so much so, that he was so close to falling off the edge.

“Gonna cum, princess.”

All it took was the feeling of you coming around his cock, your tight pussy squeezing him even tighter, sucking him in and reluctant to let him go, for him to pull out and finish over your chest, covering you in his cum.

This time, it was his phone that he grabbed from his trouser pockets from the side of your bed that he snapped a photo with, before he collapsed next to you.

Both of you were heaving, struggling to find your breaths.

Strenuously, you reached over to grab your phone from the bedside table.

23 new messages.

You looked over at Toji, exasperated. “You just had to send him a video, didn’t you.”

Typing a quick I don’t want to be with you anymore message before hitting the block button, you dropped your phone somewhere carelessly before turning to face his smug expression.

“If it wasn’t for me, he’d be the one fuckin’ you right now, princess, so I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.”

Laughing, you replied. “If it wasn’t for you breaking into my apartment, you mean. Oh, and by the way, I want my stuff back. Including my underwear that I saw in your pocket.”

For the first time, Toji’s face showed an expression that wasn’t cold and disdainful as he laughed at your remark.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: this shit is almost 5k omg and i dont even like toji. toji hater until the day i die however i'd pay to suck him off.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟsgojoenthusiast

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (9/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Finding an outfit is harder that it seams. Especially when your roommate can't really help you, because he's at his other apartment.

Warnings: fluff, angst (whoops), mentions of cheating (not Charles), mentions of smut (oral, fingering, p in v), angry Charles, text messages

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: here it is friends. did my absolute best and honestly, I'm sweating so hard. I chose the name for Charles ex bc it’s the name of the girl my best friend absolutely despises. and this is not a Charlotte hate acc. hope you like it still. feedback is appreciated!

The weather app on your phone is of relatively little help. 

Charles had said that you were going out to dinner around eight o'clock in the evening, and according to the app, it should still be fifteen degrees then, even though it's December. While he had said that "it doesn't matter what you wear," but if you were going to be spending more time with him soon, and by extension his friends, you would want to make a good first impression. 

Not that your first impression on Charles was particularly good. 

Since you promised Charles that he could sleep in his bed tonight, you try to keep the mess of clothes to a minimum. Instead of pulling each piece of clothing out of the closet and then tossing it into the nearest corner because it doesn't match what you had in mind, you put things neatly folded back in their place. 

After your roommate left the apartment, you started cleaning up your room so it wouldn't be too embarrassing if Charles stayed there tonight. After all, he doesn't need to see your underwear or the little stuffed animal turtle that sleeps in bed with you. Generally things that maybe old friends know about you, but definitely not the roommate you've been living with for two days.

The roommate who is no help to you when it comes to choosing clothes for tonight. Since he hasn't told you which restaurant it is, you don't know exactly what the dress code looks like, which is why you're now standing in front of the closet at a loss. 

In Monaco, when it comes to restaurant choice, anything is possible. You could dine at Le Louis XV, the most expensive restaurant in Monte-Carlo, or Jack Monaco, which is significantly cheaper, but you have a direct view of the harbor with the oversized and expensive yachts.

Secretly, you hope it won't be too expensive tonight. Joris would pay you back the rent soon, but you're still unemployed and unfortunately can't live quite as carefree Charles, who apparently has enough money at his disposal to have not one, but two apartments in Monaco. 

A fact that you would never blame him for. 

When you can't find anything that would theoretically go with any restaurant visit, you drop onto the bed, annoyed. It can't be that hard to find something, right? You fish your cell phone out of the pocket of your sweater and start typing. 

Briefly, you consider actually sending the message, but alas, you're so desperate that you feel you have no choice. You hit send and are about to throw the phone across the room as if you've just confessed to your school crush that you like him. 

But Charles isn't your school crush. He's your roommate and first and foremost your friend, which is why you just drop the phone on the bed next to you. 

You sit up and narrow your eyes as you go through the clothes in the open closet. Somewhere in there is a pair of dark gray, straight-cut jeans that match the white blouse you carefully hung back on the hanger a few minutes ago. 

And sure enough. After a few minutes of rummaging around in the clothes, you find the jeans and as you hold them up next to the blouse, you're relatively pleased with the choice. There should also be shoes floating around somewhere that should go with them. But at least this is a good start. 

Satisfied, you clean up the rest of the room. Since Charles has not invited you to dinner, but also to a club, you will certainly be home late, so you decide to make up Charles' bed. Your bedding disappears into the hall closet after you take Charles' things out. As you bring them into the bedroom and spread them out on the bed, you find yourself briefly considering pressing your face into the pillow. For sure, Charles smells attached to it. 

But before you can do that, your cell phone vibrates. It's a message from Charles. 

Your heart skips a beat. Do friends give each other compliments like that? You glance from your phone to Charles' pillow, then to your outfit for tonight. You bite the inside of your cheek and start typing. 

You plug your phone into the charging cord as you head toward the bathroom to shower and get ready for the evening, so you don't see the two messages Charles sends you.

-

The Ferrari feels different somehow. After Charles sat in your old Renault yesterday, the expensive Ferrari feels strange under him. Not wrong, but different. Like something is missing. 

He feels the stares on him as he steers the car through the streets of Monaco. The gray Ferrari attracts attention, with its red and white stripes and the number 16 on the side. But not just because the 488 Pista Spider is a beautiful car. 

But because people know who owns the car.

The fact that you don't know that Charles is the Charles Leclerc is refreshing for him, but the guilty conscience gnaws at him. He should tell you that he drives in Formula 1, because after all, you would be dragged into the limelight by him, should people find out that you are friends and, above all, that you live together. Before that happens, he should at least give you the opportunity to get out of it. 

But Charles is too selfish for that. 

Even though you've only known each other for a short time, Charles enjoys your company too much to mess it up. You're so normal, so kind, without asking for anything in return like most want him to do. You're just you. And by God, he's never felt better than in his short time with you. 

He expertly steers the Ferrari into a parking garage entrance, where he has to type a pin into the designated keypad next to him before the barrier. The barrier opens so that he can drive a few meters further, where a metal gate awaits him, where he also has to enter a pin - a different one. Only then does he reach the parking lot that rightfully belongs to him. 

It has been some time since he has been here. After driving the last race of the season in Abu Dhabi about three weeks ago and becoming vice world champion, he had stayed on site for a short time to soak up some sun and recover from the stress before flying back to Maranello with his team for a final briefing and to discuss the upcoming season. But even that only lasted a few days. He could have been back in Monaco by now. 

But he didn't want to. 

He knew exactly what was waiting for him here. A conversation he wanted to delay as long as possible. He didn't stay away from Monaco for so long for no reason, and he wondered if he hadn't returned too soon. But he can't, first, avoid this conversation, and second, stay away from his home. He loves it here too much for that. Just like other things he'd rather not think about right now. 

In the elevator, he puts his key in the designated hole and then presses the button with the number of the floor where his apartment is located. Just a few weeks ago, he thought that if he entered this building again, his heart would be beating wildly in his chest or his palms would be sweaty, but he is not even nervous. 

He knows what's waiting for him behind the elevator door. And he's ready to wrap things up.

Charles enters the apartment as he has thousands of times before. And just like hundreds of times before, he hears the sound of footsteps on the floor moving quickly in his direction. But never before has he felt this indifference to those footsteps. 

"Charles?" A woman comes out of the room where the living room is located and rushes toward him with her arms outstretched. When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his torso to hold him close, but Charles puts his hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly pushes her away. "Charles, I'm so sorry. What I did is inexcusable and I will-"

"'You won't do anything,'" he interrupts her, wishing he could jump in the shower to wash her touch off him. "I'm just here to get some things. And to ask you to stop calling." He walks past her down the hall and into the room where his clothes are. 

"And I told you I would do everything I could to make this right between us," the woman says as she follows him. She places herself in the doorway with her arms crossed as he packs some of his clothes into a large gym bag. "I'm not ready to give up on us yet, Charles. I love you."

Charles can't stop the laughter that escapes him. After stuffing several pairs of socks into his side pocket, he turns to her and puts a hand on his hip. "You gave us up when you fucked that guy, Annika. And dare you to talk about love. You don't even know what that is."

As his phone vibrates in his pocket, he fishes it out. A message from Y/N. He doesn't even notice that a small smile creeps onto his face at that. 

But she does. "Who's that? Do you have a new one already?" 

Charles quickly types a reply and presses send before turning back to his clothes. "No," he says coldly. "And even if it were, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"Of course it's my business!" Annika almost screeches as she takes a few steps toward him. "I'm your girlfriend, after all!"

"You," Charles zips up the bag and stands in front of her, "are the absolute last person I want anything to do with." He pushes past her into the hallway, where he drops the bag on the floor to go into the bedroom, where some odds and ends are waiting for him to take as well.

Annika follows him like a dog follows its master. "And why do you let me stay here then?"

"Because I'm nice."

"You're not that nice. We both know that."

Charles looks at the picture frames sitting on the windowsill. Among them is a picture of him and his father when Charles was little and went karting. It's a fond memory that he certainly doesn't want to leave here with her. "I've changed."

In disbelief, Annika laughs. "Never. In the two years we were together, I asked you so many times for things that should have been natural for a relationship, but what came from you? Nothing." Now it's her turn to put her hands on her hips. "You're so focused on your job that you don't notice what's going on around you! If you had paid more attention to me, then-"

"Then what? Then you wouldn't have slept with that idiot? Then we would have been happy forever? Peace and happiness?" Charles takes some pictures out of the frames and carefully lays them on top of each other so they don't scratch. He would leave the frames here, after all, they were gifts from Annika. And he definitely doesn't want to keep them. "Grow up, Annika. You knew what you were getting into from the start."

"But not that I have to share you with the whole world." Slowly, she walks toward him and as she stands in front of him, she places her perfectly manicured hands against his chest. "You're all I've ever wanted, Charles. But you were never there. And even when you were there, your mind was always at work or somewhere else, but never with me."

She's not exactly wrong about that. The season had cost him quite a few nerves and he definitely hadn't been a good boyfriend, and maybe none of this would have happened if he had paid more attention to her. But that's definitely not a justification for what she did. Charles knows his worth. And that's exactly why he clasps Annika's wrists with his thumbs and forefingers to take her hands off him. 

"For not being a good boyfriend, I am truly sorry." He drops her hands. "But that's no reason to cheat. You and I are done." Charles leaves the bedroom and grabs his bag in the hallway before heading for the elevator door. 

"You're leaving? Just like that? Throwing away two years like they never happened?"

Again, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Another message from Y/N, making his heart skip a beat. He grins to himself and types a response that, under different circumstances, he might have thought twice about. But the quicker he replies, the quicker he's out of this place and back to you. 

"I'm not throwing it away, you already did." Charles puts his phone back in his pocket and presses the button to make the elevator come. "I'm letting you stay here because I know how bad I've been to you and that this year hasn't been so easy for you either. But if I need this place one day, for whatever reason, you're out of here. And I don't care where you end up. Find someplace to live. Move back in with your parents. But this," he points to the space between you, "is over. Forever."

Annika runs a hand through her hair, then crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Then I hope for your sake that you treat them better than you treat me."

The elevator door opens, but Charles doesn't move a bit. Instead, he looks at his ex-girlfriend, who stands before him with raised eyebrows. "Who do you mean?" 

"Do you think I'm that stupid? Or blind?" She points her finger at his pants pocket. "The person you just answered immediately."

"And what's so special about that?" he asks, confused. 

Annika takes a step toward him. "You always make everyone wait for you. You make your fans wait for good results, your friends wait for calls. You even make your mother wait for you, because I'm pretty sure she doesn't know you're home yet." Annika stops in front of him. "But whoever that is - that person has all your attention. She doesn't have to wait for you. Let me give you a hint along the way, Charlie."

"Don't call me that. And I don't need your help."

"And even if you did." Annika stretches her arm out, past him, so the elevator door doesn't close. "The fact that she doesn't have to wait for you is good. Don't make her wait for you, too. It's not fair to her. And not to you, either."

As he sits back in the Ferrari - the sports bag and pictures safely stowed in the trunk - he doesn't know what to do with himself. 

Charles made it clear to Annika that their relationship was over, and it had been overdue for at least a month. But what she said at the end stuck. 

He actually keeps everyone waiting, which is why he keeps blaming himself. He could have told his mother he was back in Monaco a long time ago, but somehow he didn't. He could have told you that he's not just Charles, but he didn't, and so he keeps you waiting for the truth that you know nothing about. 

Would you even want to be friends with him anymore if you knew who he was? Or would you want to be friends with him all the more? 

Never, he thinks to himself. That's not who you are. And he can say that even though you've only known each other for a short time. 

And even though you've only known each other for two days, you're all he can think about. He thinks about how you sat together on the grass and talked about his father. He thinks about how you cried at Cars. He thinks about how you flirted with him even though, in your opinion, it wasn't flirting (it was to him, of course; he wanted to know how to win you over for a reason). He thinks about how you told him about your ex-boyfriend and how he would love to beat him up. He thinks of you standing next to each other in the kitchen washing the dishes. 

He thinks of you standing in front of him dressed only in a towel. With bare shoulders and bare legs and that - if he would get the opportunity again - he would not hesitate to pull you into the bedroom and fuck you with his tongue, his fingers or his cock in such a way that he would ruin all other men for you.

Charles closes his eyes briefly to get the image of you on his mind, and then drives off. He would love to drive to the lookout and talk to his father about the situation, but somehow it doesn't feel right without you there. 

But he can't talk to you about it either, because it involves you, and although it would certainly be best, he doesn't have the heart to tell you the truth. Not because he doesn't trust you, but because he's afraid of losing you. 

He slaps his hand against his forehead. "Get a grip, damn it," he says to himself. The two of you haven't even touched, and he's thinking about how he'd take you on every surface in the small apartment. That's just not normal. 

And most of all, it's not fair. You confided in him about your ex-boyfriend because Charles is your friend. And your roommate. And that's what he needs to be to you. 

It wouldn't be fair for him to get into a relationship with you because one, you don't know who exactly he is, and two, he can never be what you need him to be. You need someone who is there for you, who takes time for you. Someone you can laugh and cry with. Not someone who is away most weeks of the year and can't even manage to call his own mother. 

You would always be waiting for him. And even though he doesn't want to agree with Annika, he has to. The whole thing is not fair to you. 

And so he deletes the last two messages he sent you, which you apparently haven't read yet, as he parks his Ferrari in an underground garage and walks the last few meters to your apartment. 

He decides that he is your friend. Only your friend. Because he has to be, and because he can't be anything else. Because you need a real friend, and not a relationship. 

Charles unlocks the apartment door and drops the gym bag to the floor beside him. 

"Charles?" Unlike Annika's voice, his heart starts to beat faster at yours and his palms start to sweat, so he quickly wipes them on his jeans. You come out of the bathroom dressed in dark gray jeans and a white blouse that accentuates your curves. As you stand in front of him, you turn once so he can check you out from all sides. In all his life, he's never seen anyone look so divine. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure what to wear. I hope that's all right."

His smile is gentle and he hopes you don't notice how hard he has to swallow, and he would have loved to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But his ex-girlfriend is still clinging to him, and before you touch each other properly for the first time, he wants her washed off.

It's not fair.

"It's okay," he says with a smile and goes to the fridge for a glass of orange juice. You stop by the apartment door next to the gym bag, but don't ask where the stuff is from. And for that, he's very grateful. "I'm just going to jump in the shower and then we can go, okay?"

He doesn't wait for your answer as he pulls new clothes out of his suitcase, walks into the bathroom, undresses, and stands under the hot stream of water. Even now, he keeps you waiting, which further solidifies his decision to keep your relationship purely platonic. While he's shampooing his hair, he makes a deal with himself that he'll do whatever it takes to make this friendship work. Even if that means suppressing his feelings. 

As he leaves the bathroom freshly showered and ready to go, you sit on the couch. He's looking at you, thinking about what Annika said, what he'd like to do with you, and all the things he could lose. And all of that just isn't fair. 

"I'm sorry you had to wait for me," he says softly, reaching for your car key that's on the dining room table. It feels better in his hand than the one from the Ferrari. So familiar. Like the key will fulfill everything he's ever wanted. 

"It's okay," you reply, getting up from the couch. You take a few steps toward him and smile at him, and his heart melts. "I'm fine with waiting."

the messages Charles deleted -

next part

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [DEVOTION…. Pt. 2]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] + [ MENTIONS OF BLOOD & GORE ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

Beautiful days weren't uncommon in New Orleans.

They frequently occurred -even more so during the late summer months in the swamped countryside- where you now found yourself traveling through alongside your husband.

Alastor had decided it was high time both of you visited your recently conjoined families. His mother constantly asked to see you again, calling twice a week like clockwork to check on her darling son and his ever-so-sweet wife, and you appreciated her sincere affection.

You missed visiting her in person, learning things from her, and observing how much adoration she had for Alastor..

In a sense, she'd raised you like her own daughter, taking the place of your mother, who'd passed before you'd even taken your first steps. Your father was adamant a 'fever' took her, but Alastor's mother always hinted at a force greater than unfortunate health having to do with it.

You'd never thought to ask what she meant, trusting her wise and kind words wholeheartedly since Alastor was your only friend, but curiosity did plague your thoughts from time to time.

Her passing was a tragedy you could barely remember….

However, it was in the past, your mother was gone with your childhood, and you were now in the present -married to a man you never wished to part from…

Even more so now that he'd revealed how truly devoted he was to you and you alone…

“….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…”

Those words of his rang loud and clear in your head for days on end, making your heart flutter ten times harder than it usually did when he was near and coaxing a particular passion for making him happy out of you at every opportunity given.

Your infatuation had grown into undeterred loyalty and in your opinion he deserved every bit of it.

Alastor worked tirelessly to further his career. Reaping the benefits of such hard work through copious amounts of money and awards from various admirers.

He'd perfected so many things to reach that point, hiding his natural down home drawl with a perfect transatlantic accent -you found both charming but preferred the first. Although, you understood why he’d mastered the ladder accent, and never insisted upon him disregarding it.

It was what made his character, brought the masses running back for more each time he was on air, and what kind of wife would you be if you asked him to refute all the admiration for simple and selfish reasons?..

He wasn’t home often enough to have such conversations in the first place…

Alastor was no stranger to working late into the evening, writing script after script past midnight at the station, and only returning home when he was sure his manuscripts were crystal clear.

That’s what you were made to believe he was doing anyway.

Alastor made sure of that.

In your eyes he was perfect, hardworking, and utterly perfect…

Not the merciless, flesh hungry, murder that’d been stalking the streets of New Orleans for almost six consecutive months…

To your knowledge Alastor had no flaws, no deep, dark secrets you felt the need to uncover, and certainly not a man with a tainted sense of morality you couldn't fully trust.

He ensured your view of him remained spotless, devoid of bloodthirst or cruelty.

You were too innocent for it, too pure to know what he'd done and continued to do for the sake of self-satisfaction, but there is always a time for truths to come to light…

Nevertheless, Alastor strived to make sure that time never came…

So, when the city became on edge, being put under a curfew by law enforcement in hopes of slowing the occurrence of his murders, and the number of police patrols significantly increased, Alastor decided a nice…long…relaxing vacation to the countryside would be an excellent idea.

Nothing suspicious about the idea at all…

You were ecstatic about the trip, rushing to pack things for the both of you the very evening he mentioned it, and Alastor was genuinely pleased to see you so excited.

You were painfully unaware of his true motives…so willing to spend time with him and leave the fear-induced city behind…

Oh, how he loved it…you and your gentle, naive nature…

Truly, a warm-hearted belle safe and sound in his bloodstained grasp.

He almost felt guilty, looking at you now, taking your first bare footsteps into the dewy summer grass surrounding his mother's home. Your eyes lit up like the high noon sun shining down on you both, soft lips pulled into a satisfied smile as you reacquainted yourself with fresh summer air, "God, I missed this.." you whispered to yourself as the comforting wind blew through your hair.

Alastor laughed softly, smile ever present as you did a twirl in the grass before looking at him over your shoulder, "Well, aren't you gonna join me, Al? Or am I gonna have to get a hug from your mother first?"

He narrowed his eyes, smile softening at the mention of her, "First? My dear, are you askin' for a race?"

You grinned, giggling as you shrugged playfully while walking backward towards the pathway leading to his mother's home, "Only if you're agreeing to one, honey.." you respond cheekily.

Your husband could never resist a challenge.

Ever.

You’d realized that very early on in your time with him, using it to your advantage more often than he realized.

Getting your way with Alastor was a special skill unique to you and not a soul else…

A smirk tugged at your lips as Alastor pushed off from leaning against the car, rolling his sleeves up as he strode towards you, "Daring, little thing, aren't you?" He teased, having to yell as you spun on your heel and took off without warning.

You let out a laugh, hearing him give chase, only a meter behind you in less than three seconds, and his subtle chiding at your attempt at cheating urging you to beat him.

"Looks like I'll beat you, dearest!" He boasts, drawing nearer to you within seconds, but hesitating to pass you by as he took in the sight of your white cotton dress riding higher up your thighs as you ran.

A delectable view for him in more ways than one…

Alastor couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen such a carefree and angelic sight. Nor, did he want to when you were right in front of him.

You scoffed at his teasing, oblivious to Alastor’s longing stare as you hiked up the front hem of your dress to hop over a fallen tree branch, but when you landed, he was at your side -a smirk already sneaking its way onto his face as you shot him a surprised glance.

When had he gotten so fast?…

You weren't sure, but Alastor had always been more physically fit than most, so you merely tried to keep up with him as the end of the path approached.

He beat you by five feet at least, but you were in too much of a giggle fit to notice. "You cheated!" You chirped, faking a pout as he leaned against one of the dark timber poles that upheld the wrap-around porch. "I was only beating you at your own game, ma chère… fair is fair." Alastor flashed you a grin, pushing his glasses to rest on top of his head before raising a hand to swipe the specks of dust that'd landed on his cheek during your short race.

You smiled at the rare, docile, boyish action. Alastor was never one to altogether drop his guard, so when moments like this occurred, you'd relish in it for as long as possible.

"Here, let me…" you spoke softly, still a little breathless after running but eager to help your husband. Alastor dropped his hand from his face, leaning down to make your reach for him less strenuous, and you smiled at the tiny habit.

He'd always considered your height difference, and your tummy fluttered at each implication of it.

Using the back of your dress sleeve, you carefully wiped at his cheek as he stared at you, allowing you to gingerly guide his face from side to side with your small hand cupping his jaw. "There, much better, monsieur.." you compliment him with a flirtatious drawl, admiring his dust free skin in the sunlight as a few strands of his wavy brown hair shifts over his eyes from the wind.

Alastor returns your admiration, gaze lowering to your lips when you speak and slowly rising again as you place the round glasses back on his face. "Thank you,'ma chère," he sighs gratefully, natural southern drawl shining through as he speaks, finding himself out of breathless as you stare up at him lovingly.

In all his life Alastor could count on one hand how many times an inkling of ‘love’ had trickled its way into his heart. You seemed to be a factor in at least half of those memories.

He deemed that fact more than enough reason to kill for you if fate ever dictated harm your way…

What man wouldn't spill a bit of blood for a woman that looks at him the way you are looking at him now..?

A lesser one, surely.

Alastor considered himself far from the definition of a lesser man..

“It’s my pleasure,” you mutter in response, shifting to step around him and knock on the door, but Alastor stops you by wrapping an arm around your waist, bringing you in close to gently kiss your nose, then your lips, and you return the intimate gesture on instinct.

He hums deep within his chest as your soft lips melt into his, grip tightening on your waist as he unconsciously glides his tongue along yours, and you successfully stifle a moan at the unexpected intrusion.

Was that….blood you tasted on him?…

You weren't given much time to register the iron residue mixed with the hints of black coffee you'd made for him that morning since the sound of a door swinging open startled you half to death before any connection could be made.

"Oh, well, would you get a look at you two!" Angelique Hartifelt beamed as she registered who was on her doorstep. Alastor immediately let you go, smiling wide as his mother tugged him into an airtight hug, and you blushed at the heartwarming sight.

"Hello, mother," Alastor mumbled into her dark curls, swaying her in his arms as she took him in, "My, you've grown baby…real successful too, I hear.." She laughed as he nodded, both clearly happy to see each other after so long, but she eventually pulled away from Alastor to turn her attention to you.

"Sweet girl… c'mere! God, you're just as pretty as a magnolia in May!" You had no time to reply as she hugged you tight, kissing your cheek while you giggled and greeted her politely, "You're too kind, Mrs. Hartifelt … It's nice to see you again! I've missed you dearly!"

She stepped back, grinning as wide as her son as she spun you around, "Don't be silly, honey! Married life becomes you! I missed seeing your lovely self, too. Maybe if Al stopped working so much, you'd have more time to stop by.." She gave him a playful glare, to which he flashed an apologetic smile.

"I'll try to remember that, Mother.." he tipped his head in understanding, and she swatted his arm lightly. "Oh, you know I'm only poking fun, baby. Come on inside, I wanna hear about the two of you…"

She paused, ushering you in the door first with a knowing smile, "…and if I have any grandchildren on the way." Her jest made you turn bright red, but her lighthearted laughter that followed eased your nerves.

However, Alastor's face fell for a moment as she said it, the two of you sharing a strange stare as Angelique closed the behind her and whisked past you both to lead the way into the kitchen.

It was only for a split second, but you could've sworn Alastor looked…

Hopeful…?

Or rather, genuinely affected by the mention of having a child with you…

The complex expression vanished from his face just as quickly as it appeared, his gaze shifting from you to his mother as she set a pitcher of sweet tea and a plate full of cookies out, and you instantly focused on the dish of sweets as the sugary smell invaded your nose.

You were here to enjoy her company, get away from the world and its burdensome worries, and overthinking Alastor’s every reaction wouldn’t be a good start to that….

Besides, her sweets were always your favorite; she'd shown you how to bake, and you attributed most of your cooking skills to her teaching. Alastor had also picked up a great deal of culinary tricks from her, and it became another hobby you two bonded over during childhood.

"Those look amazing, Mrs. Hartifelt," you flashed her a smile, humming as you pretended to swoon over them, and she laughed at your slight dramatics. "I suspected you'd stop by, so I made your favorite, honey. Come on, sit!"

"Don't mind if I do," you chirped and sat next to her at the modestly round dining table; she poured you both a glass of sweet tea before looking over at Alastor expectantly. "That means you too," she gently scolded his standoff-ish behavior, watching as he took a seat on her unoccupied side and patting his cheek in gratitude as he did.

Alastor leaned into her touch, mumbling an apology for not accompanying her sooner, "I got lost in thought, is all…" he clarified in a soft chuckle, and she nodded in understanding.

"Mmm, really, what about?"

His gaze shifted to you again, and your body momentarily froze as he stared while answering his mother, "How much I love you…that’s all.”

Whether he meant to direct the phrase towards you or his mother was unclear, but your chest tightened, and your head filled with fog nonetheless.

How could he still manage to make you so unsteady within the simplest efforts and gestures?…

Alastor held your gaze for a minute longer, forgetting where he was presently, but his self induced trance vanished as his mother spoke again.

"I see you still haven’t lost your charm to the big city. That radio show must keep you on your toes, then.."

He nodded, laughing gently at his mother's teasing, "I wouldn’t dream of it, and my audience expects the best, so I must deliver."

She nods, humming as her chocolate eyes drift towards you, "And how is my lovely son treating you, sweetheart? Well, I presume?"

You could hear the hint of curiosity in her tone, light but underlying seriousness in her question. It was no secret to her that Alastor had…certain tendencies, but those were reserved for people who deserved it, and you'd never been deemed deserving.

She hoped it remained that way…

To her inner relief, you answered her with the broadest smile and happiest tone, "Oh, of course! I couldn't have asked for a better husband! You raised him well..a true gentleman, Mrs. Hartifelt."

Alastor smirked, reveling in your praise, unbothered by his mother eyeing him carefully before she gave you a pleasant response, "I'm glad to hear that. You're still sweet on him too…just like when you were little."

You blushed, taking a ginger bite of one cookie while nodding, "Mhm.."

Why you became nervous when your childlike crush on Alastor was brought up was a mystery, but you couldn't help it since both of your families saw your subtle pining for him day in and day out.

"Speaking of 'little'…" his mother sat straight, arms crossed over her chest as she glanced at the both of you, "When are you two gonna give me a grandbaby to look after. I'm not getting any younger, Al.."

That look crossed his face again, but his smile remained.

You, however, nearly choked on your sweet treat, but luckily managed not to make an utter fool of yourself. A minor cough and a quick sip from your glass eased your mishap.

Angelique patted your back gently, laughing softly at your reaction, "Honey, I'm only kidding… there's no rush." Her reassurance was genuine, but unbeknownst to her, Alastor had breached the subject already.

Albeit in the heat of a very intense and lust-driven moment.

"Ma chère," Alastor rose from his chair, slight concern on his face as he came to kneel by your chair, "…are you alright?"

You nodded slowly, smiling softly at him before huffing out, "M' fine…no need to worry.." he nodded in return, standing to his feet to address her implications.

"We'll see what the future holds, Mother, but as of now, are we welcome to your hospitality for a few days?"

He knew she'd say 'yes' but made it a habit to ask.

Alastor maintained impeccable manners, just as she'd taught him to have, and it brought a proud glint to Angelique’s eyes.

"Now, Al, why would I ever say no to that. You two stay as long as you want!"

You tipped your head in gratitude, "Thank you, Mrs. Hartifelt.."

She scoffed, placing her hand over one of yours before leaning in close as if to tell you a secret Alastor shouldn’t hear.

"Even after all these years and being married to my boy, you're still so polite, Y/n. The world won't burn to a crisp if you call me 'mother' sweetheart."

She kissed your temple, and your heart melted at the tender gesture, "We are family, after all."

That was true…

"I suppose you're right, Mrs- I mean mother." You tripped over the words, so used to being formal but enjoying the new arrangement.

It felt natural enough.

"Look how easy that was!" Angelique patted your hand assuredly, stood from her seat, and began to clear the table.

There was no doubt in your mind that Alastor got his charm from her….

Your revelation was cut short as she absentmindedly spoke to you again, "Pay your father a visit before you settle in. I'm sure he'd like to see you…he comes by often asking about you two a lot these days.."

You stiffened at the mention of your father, recalling the last time you'd seen him.

Exactly a year ago.

The day you married Alastor…

After that, you'd barely spoken to him, not because you wished for distance but because he'd established it.

Your father may have agreed to your marriage with Alastor, but he only partially warmed up to your husband. He'd looked upon him with a hidden distaste from the very beginning of your friendship.

"Something's off about that boy…" he’d say.

Then proceed to warn you of a danger that never existed in your opinion. "You be careful around him…real careful.."

When he realized your attraction to Alastor his nagging only worsened, "He's a charmer…those are never good for anything. You remember that."

For years, his assumptions of Alastor irked you to no end; it perplexed you why he even married you off to him, but whenever you'd search for answers, he'd give the same vague answer.

"That boy isn't what he seems. Never has been and never will be.."

Frustrating as he was, you could never bring yourself to hate him for it, but the thought of having to endure his morbid company wasn’t comforting at all.

Alastor recognized the distress in your gentle features, your bright eyes narrowing at the tabletop, and your hands wringing around each other nervously.

All because of him.

Mr. L/n...

The one man who seemed to get a clue as to who and what Alastor was without anything other than a so-called ‘gut feeling’.

Alastor had tried for years to mask his true nature from him, but your father saw right through him at every encounter.

He had been and still was Alastor’s worst agitation…

Such a bothersome fool…

Your husband averted his oncoming glare to the nearest wall before wiping the disdain off his face, and reaching a hand out to caress your back. You relaxed under his firm touch, looking up to him as his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your spine, "It'll only be a short visit, my dear. We'll have the whole weekend after that…"

His smile eased your fretting, leading you to nod and smile back. "Alright… y-you'll come with me, yes?"

Absolutely not-

Alastor inwardly hushed his shadow demon, tipping his head in warning to the spectrum and forcing it to hold its tongue before it overrode his consciousness.

His smile widened, the hand on your back sliding up to cup your cheek, "Of course, mon chere. I wouldn't dream of letting you go alone.."

We should-

His shadow attempted to cut in again, but Alastor withheld its advance with a simple command.

Hush up. Now…

Fortunately, it ceased all communication, and his focus on you went unhindered.

You stood from your chair, rising on your tiptoes to peck his lips with your own, whispering against them before you pulled away.

"Thank you… Sometimes I dont know what I'd do without you…"

Alastor cursed the sharp pang that penetrated his heart as you said those words, an eerie sense of Deja vu hitting him in waves, but the uneasy feeling never showed on his face -not until you thanked his mother one last time before flurrying upstairs to freshen up.

Angelique felt her son’s mood shift, intuition leading her to ask him what was on his mind, "Something wrong?.."she mumbles calmly without ceasing in her task of cleaning.

Alastor remained silent for a long moment, watching as his mother moved on to pulling out ingredients to cook for dinner, and when she turned to face him entirely, he found the sense to speak.

"It's gettin' worse…" he confessed through a tight-lipped smile, leaning back against a wall to keep his composure, and she needed no other clues to figure out his cause for distress.

"The killing' or the magic?" She inquires, back to him, and but her voice laced with evident care.

"Both. It's getting to me..bad…more frequently.." he confesses.

Angelique hums in understanding, "Have you been hunting at all these past few weeks?.."

Alastor took his glasses off, breath coming out strained as his eyes shifted from their usual whiskey color to a redder hue.

"No. Not since…" he falters, gritting his teeth as his unruly spectral companion cut into his train of thought.

Not since you fucked her-

"I said shut the hell up…" Alastor seethed out loud, eyes screwing shut as his shadow danced onto the wall, yet his mother remained unphased by the sudden outburst.

She merely peered at the taunting shadow, causing it to cower back in her son's tall frame, "Go hunting while you're here. That'll take the edge off, but get that spirit in check before you do, or it won't end well. You hear me?"

Alastor nodded, rolling his neck to alleviate the tension in his body before recapturing his shadow and flashing his mother an understanding smile.

Her advice was final, a direct warning to him, and it garnered a welcomed sense of control over his frazzled behavior.

His smile lost its crazed edge, drawing into a polite smirk as he peered at her expectantly.

"Do you happen to have my old hunting gear lying around?.."

She turned towards the stove, not affected by his sudden personality switch by any means, and simply motioned a hand upstairs before answering him, "In your father's old study. Right where you left it, behind the bookshelf…."

Alastor perked up, grinning wide as the memory of his last hunting spree crossed his mind, "Merci, mother." He thanked her, walking over to kiss her cheek before exiting the homely kitchen while humming a new tune as he strode up the steps with newfound confidence.

Tonight, he'd look for prey…

How he'd satiate his shadow's pesky intrusions was a matter he'd have to solve later.

Although, if the way it constantly became hyperactive at the mere mention or sight of you had anything to do with it Alastor was certain you were the solution to the problem.

+++++

The visit with your father went as you expected it to go.

He welcomed you with open arms and a tender smile, but when he saw Alastor climbing the marble steps of your family’s estate, his cordial behavior waned.

“I see you’ve brought him along…” he made no effort to hide the distaste in his tone as Alastor reached your side.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again as well Mr, L/n…” Your husband remained polite as always, masking his hatred for the man with a practiced facade of kindness.

Alastor became more affectionate towards you in his presence, going so far as to kiss the top of your head and wrapping an arm around your waist protectively, making every effort to keep you close throughout the tense reunion.

Your father clearly did not take a liking to his indirect aggravations it at all…

Yet, he said nothing on the matter, cutting your visit short with the tired excuse of having an 'important engagement' he needed to attend to.

So, in under an hour of resisting your childhood home, you found yourself walking back through the secret trail you and Alastor had paved years ago to commute across, and with each step, you felt more at ease.

You weren't quick to anger, but your father's jabs towards Alastor never ceased to ruin your mood. Thankfully, your husband seemed more eclectic than when you'd arrived in the countryside, and that, in turn, brightened your previously somber spirits.

Alastor held your arm under his as the two of you trekked along the path, going over small hills, thin creeks, and finally through a line of forestry bordering his mother's home.

The sun was beginning to set as you entered the forest end of your journey. The warm summer wind becoming a bit chilly as it whipped through the large willow and evergreen trees. Alastor kept you close, better acquainted with the woods than you were, but not because he'd memorized the path from childhood.

No, his memory of it stemmed from the many bloody escapades he'd enjoyed there and intended to continue sooner rather than later…

All for a rush, for the flesh, for the undisputed thrill.

Even now he couldn't stop grinning, thinking about it, failing to dampen his excitement as he led you both through the darkening woods.

You glanced up at him, happy to see Alastor so content despite your awful encounter with your father, "I apologize for him… he's…" you paused, trying to find the right words to describe your father's behavior, but he beat you to it with a gentle laugh.

"A cynical old man who believes that I'm no good for you?"

His voice held an edge, but you took the comment as playful heat and not as a harmful insult the way Alastor intended it to sound.

You couldn’t blame him for feeling spiteful about the whole ordeal…

He had every right to be unnerved…

A tender sigh slipped past your lips, and you nodded in agreement as he glanced down at you, "A spot-on depiction…not a pretty one either.." Alastor chuckled, shaking his head dismissively as he reassured you he took no offense to your father's dislike of him.

Though it was somewhat justified.

"Don't you worry yourself about him, my dear. I have you, and he can do nothing about it…"

Not a fucking thing…

You peered up at Alastor, noting the unwavering smile on his face as he spoke, but the glare in his eyes said he felt anything but indifference about the situation.

That worried you…scared you a little…

"Al…" you whispered, halting in your tracks and causing him to do the same. Your brows furrowed as he lowered his head, his breaths becoming heavy as his hold on your arm grew harder, but not enough to harm you.

His smile only grew as you muttered again, "Alastor, …look at me…" your words as tender as ever as you turned on your heel to face him head-on.

Alastor's eyes twitched as you came close, flashing red when you cupped his face with both hands and dipped your head to gain proper eye contact with him.

Concern was written all over you face…

You tried to decipher Alastor’s expression, ignoring the chill running down your spine as his gaze hardened while the air around you grew stiffer by the second.

Was he angry?

It felt as if he were but something in his unwavering stare told you this emotion surpassed that, and you couldn't deny how intensely it radiated off him as he slowly tilted his head at you.

Possessiveness.

Pure, unbridled need for dominance.

Whether it was over you or his state of mind remained unclear as he took a step forward. You made no effort to back away, letting Alastor tower over you, and not once breaking eye contact with him.

“Alastor…you can tell me-“

The comforting words died on your tongue when he jerked you into his chest, large hands finding your wrists as the heated kiss he initiated silenced the surprised yelp that left your lips as they melded with his.

You eyes drifted shut as he deepened the exchange, gradually relenting your body control over to him as he guided your arms to wrap around his neck. Alastor shifted his hold on your wrists to trace down your sides, the ghost like touch sending a shock through you immediately.

He smiled at your skittish reaction, oddly calmer than he was a moment before as he dared to pull similar responses from you. His skilled tongue delved into you mouth, inviting yours to play along while he leveraged his larger frame against your smaller one. You obediently stepped back as he pressed forward, subtly flinching as your backside hit the bark of the nearest tree, yet the scratch of wood on your covered skin failed to bother you as the kiss became feverish.

Desperate…

Alastor was desperate for something…

For what you weren’t certain, unable to think straight when he had you pinned against a decaying evergreen, stealing your breath away with ease, only pulling away from your lips to catch his own breath.

You quietly panted for air as well, blood rushing to your head from the sound of his have breathing mixing with the distant chirps of crickets harmonizing alongside buzzing cicadas.

The wind seemed to lose its chill as it passed between the nonexistent space separating you both.

Alastor held you still in that moment, one hand at the back of your neck to keep your head raised towards his, and the other resting under your chin. His thumb traced over your now spit slick lips, brown eyes following the slight tremble in them as you continued to pant for air.

Oh, how he adored your eagerness to please him. Always so desperate for more of him and never quite aware of your own greediness for his undivided affection.

“What is there for me to tell you, ma chère…?” The words thundered in his chest, almost a low hum in the midst of the surrounding wilderness, but you heard him clear enough.

“How you truly feel….whats behind that smile you fight so hard to maintain.” You gulp down the anxiety trying to creep its way into your tone, inhaling sharply as he pushed a knee between your thighs, and your train of thought came to a halt feeling him put pressure on your thinly covered cunt.

You knew the gesture was a from of distraction on his part, an attempt to avert your attention from the uneasy shift in his mood, and though you wanted to push him back and demand he take your concerns seriously…

The building heat in your core advised otherwise, overriding your urge to coax an explanation from Alastor with the need to be filled by him instead, and the growing amount of stars in your eyes as he continued to toy with your body made it all the more obvious to him.

“I assure you I’m quite alright, darling“ Alastor remained true to his previous claim, smiling softly as your eyes lidded over while your hips tentatively began to rock over his thigh at a sluggish pace, and your hands unraveling from his neck to trail down his chest. The linen fabric of his shirt cooled your burning fingertips, keeping your focus clear enough for another hushed whisper to leave your lips, “Tellin’ me not lie to you but then turning around and doing it yourself…”

You paused, holding his gaze as your tongue darted out to lick at his thumb teasingly, “How is that fair, Alastor, hm?…” your voice remains quiet, the taste of his skin lingering on the tip of your tongue as the questions hangs in the air around you, and it seems to hit a nerve in him.

A flash of red illuminates his irises, smile stretching wide across his face at your seductive actions and reprimanding remarks, “Fair? Is that what you want from me, mon chere? A fair bit of truth?”

His shadow itched to enlarge, wanting nothing more than to show itself to you, and intake the delirious reaction you’d surely have to seeing its monstrous form.

Although, Alastor kept it at bay, settling with trailing the hand on your neck to tangle through your hair, tugging it just rough enough to earn a soft gasp from you, and that action alone hard your inside twisting with anticipation.

You knew he’d never harm you, never lift a finger to imply harsh treatment, but the thrill of finally experiencing a hidden side of your husbands persona had your heart racing and your cunt throbbing.

“Yes…” you whimper compliantly, hands fisting the collar of his dress shirt to tug him closer, and Alastor growled at the aggressive action.

“Careful what you ask for, sweet girl…” he warns you through gritted teeth, tempted to kiss you again as an airy giggle leaps from your mouth, “And what if I refuse to be?”

Fuck, I need her…we need her…

His shadow twitched, writhing in the waning light of the sun at your taunting, and embodying every ounce of excitement the man before you struggled to contain as the heat of your cunt gliding over his thigh persisted with every gentle buck of your hips against him.

Alastor felt his blood run hot as you pried at his self control, the corner of your lips pulling up into a knowing smile as he stared at you hungrily, and not a single drop of apprehension present in your gaze as he lowered his head to whisper in your ear.

“Then I suppose I’m left with no other choice than to remind you what happens to curious little cats, my dear…”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

Idk if I hate or love this chapter…like I’m so used to writing smut that writing angst or fluff feels so dreadful to me. Plus, you guys liked the first part so much I didn’t want to fuck this up…I promise the next part is pure smut and gore lol. This was essentially a filler part (I’m sorry)… ❤️ also did you guys catch the Princess and the Frog reference I threw in?!? If you did then I freakin adore you hehehe ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I’d cry, scream, fucking beg for this man…it’s fucking ridiculous how much I love him tbhhhh ❤️ credit to creator

[supernova2205]

A Recipe for Trouble

Chef Gaz x reader

Summary: What starts as a simple cooking class to cure boredom quickly turns into something more when your charming instructor, Kyle, challenges you to a final test cooking him dinner at your place. With your track record in the kitchen, success isn’t guaranteed, but maybe the real lesson isn’t about cooking at all.

Boredom had a way of making you do questionable things. Like signing up for a cooking class despite your well-documented history of culinary disasters. You had scorched eggs, burned pasta, and once managed to set toast on fire. If there was a way to ruin a dish, you had found it.

So, naturally, a cooking class seemed like a logical next step.

The only thing that stopped you from bolting right out of the class on the first day was the instructor himself, Kyle.

He was confident, charismatic, and, unfortunately for you, devastatingly attractive. That last part made focusing on anything remotely related to food prep significantly harder.

Your first lesson began with an introduction to knife skills, and you quickly realized that chopping onions was its own form of torture. Your hands fumbled, your slices were uneven, and at one point, you nearly lost a fingertip.

Kyle chuckled as he slid a cutting board in front of you. "Alright, let’s slow down before we end up in the emergency room, yeah? Hold the knife like this, firm grip, but relaxed." His hands covered yours, guiding you through the movement. "There you go. Now try again."

You tried to ignore the way his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary, focusing instead on not making a fool of yourself.

That resolve lasted about three minutes until you managed to send half a tomato flying across the room.

Kyle blinked, lips twitching in amusement. "Well, that’s one way to do it. Not exactly the right way, but you’ve got enthusiasm."

"Enthusiasm won’t stop me from burning the kitchen down," you muttered, shaking your head. "I’m hopeless."

"Nah," he grinned, leaning against the counter. "Just need the right teacher. And lucky for you, I happen to be the best."

The lessons continued over the next few weeks, each one filled with equal parts disaster and progress. You learned how to knead dough without it sticking to everything in sight, how to properly season a dish without making it taste like pure salt, and, most importantly, how to not set things on fire.

Every lesson was a battle between your growing skills and your natural inclination for chaos, but Kyle never lost patience. If anything, he seemed to enjoy watching you stumble through the process.

"Alright," he said one evening as you both hovered over a pan of sauce that miraculously hadn’t turned into charcoal. "Moment of truth. Taste test."

You hesitated, scooping a bit onto a spoon. Your track record with homemade meals wasn’t exactly great. But as soon as the flavors hit your tongue, your eyes widened. "Holy—this actually tastes good."

Kyle grinned. "Told ya. You’re getting the hang of it."

You turned to him, a slow smirk forming. "So, what you’re saying is… I’m a natural?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re better, but let’s see if you survive the final test."

Your stomach dropped. "Final test?"

Kyle leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Cooking a meal all on your own. No help. Just you, the ingredients, and your questionable decision-making."

You groaned. "You’re trying to kill me."

"Nope, just makin’ sure all this hasn’t been for nothing. I’ve got faith in you."

And damn it, with the way he looked at you just then, soft, encouraging, like he knew you could do it, you almost believed it too.

Then he smirked. "And, since it’s your final test, I think it should be a special occasion."

You raised an eyebrow. "Special how?"

Kyle leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking way too pleased with himself. "How about this you cook me dinner. At your place. Just us."

Your heart did a weird little flip. "Wait, is this part of the test, or are you asking me out?"

He chuckled, tilting his head. "Little bit of both."

You stared at him, trying to find the catch. "So, you want me to cook for you, knowing full well that my kitchen skills are questionable at best?"

Kyle shrugged. "I like a little danger. Keeps things interesting."

The teasing glint in his eye made your stomach do another flip. You exhaled, dramatically wiping your hands on your apron. "Alright, Kyle. You’re on. But if you die from food poisoning, that’s on you."

"I’ll take my chances."

The next evening, you found yourself pacing your kitchen, trying to remember everything Kyle had taught you. You had picked a simple dish, one you had actually managed to cook successfully under his watchful eye. But without him hovering nearby to save you from disaster, your nerves were getting the best of you.

When the knock came at your door, you took a deep breath and opened it to find Kyle standing there, dressed casually but somehow looking effortlessly good. He held up a bottle of wine with a smirk. "Figured we might need this."

You let him in, and he surveyed your kitchen with an amused glance. "So, what’s on the menu, Chef?"

"That… is a surprise," you said, nudging him toward the counter. "No interfering. You’re the guest tonight."

"Alright, alright," he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show."

Despite a few near mishaps, the meal actually turned out well. You plated everything carefully and set the table, feeling ridiculously proud of yourself. Kyle took a bite and let out a satisfied hum. "Look at that. My star pupil actually pulled it off."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze made your face heat up. "So, does this mean I passed?"

Kyle leaned in slightly, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, you definitely passed. But I think we might need a few more lessons. You know, just to be sure."

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, realizing that maybe, just maybe, this had never really been about cooking at all.

Authors note:Hey everyone! Just wanted to share a little fic for all my fellow Gaz fans out there. I still have more ideas brewing about him because I absolutely adore his charm and sass! Enjoy and stay tuned for more!!!!$

[tuesdayisfordancing]

Unfortunate as it is, copyright law is the only practical leverage most people have to fight against tech companies scraping their work for commercial usage without their permission, especially people who also don't have union power to leverage either. Even people who prefer to upload their work for free online shouldn't be taken advantage of; Just because something is available for free online doesn't mean that it's freely available for someone to profit from in any way, especially if the author did not authorize it.

Okay Nonny. Bear with me, you’re not gonna like how I start this and probably not how I finish it either, but I do have a point in the middle. So.

There is in fact long established precedent for people being allowed to profit off of various uses of others’ work without permission, in ways that creative types in general and fandom specifically tend to wholeheartedly approve of. Parody, collage, fanart commissions, unauthorized merch, monetized reaction or analysis videos on youtube, these are significantly clearer cut examples of actually *using* copyrighted material in your own work than the generative ai case. And except for fanart commissions and unauthorized merch, which mostly live off of copyright holders staying cool about it, these are all explicitly permitted under copyright law.

Now, the generative ai case has some conflicting factors around it. On the one hand, it’s not only blatantly transformative to the point where the dataset cannot be recognized in the end result (and when it overfits and comes out with something not sufficiently transformative, that’s covered by preexisting copyright law), it also doesn’t exactly *use* the copyrighted work the way other transformative uses do. A parody riffs off a particular other work, or a few particular other works. A collage or a reaction video uses individual pieces of other works. Generative AI doesn’t do that, it comes up with patterns based on having looked at what a huge number of other works have in common. Like if a formulaic writing/art advice book were instead a robot artist. But on the other hand, the AI that was trained is potentially being used to compete in the same market as the work it was trained on. That “competition in the same market” element is why fan merch and fanart commissions rely on sufferance, rather than legality. That’s part of fair use too. So perhaps there’s some case to be made against AI from that perspective. *But*… the genAI creations, while competing in the same market as some of their training data, are *a lot more different from that training data* than a fanart is from an official art. To a significant degree the most similar comparison here isn’t other types of transformative work it’s… a person who learns to write by reading a lot. They’ll end up competing in the same market as some of *their* training data too. But of course that doesn’t *feel* the same. For starters, that’s *one person* adding themselves to the competition pool. An AI is adding *everyone who uses the AI* to the competition pool. It may be a similar process, but the end result is much more disruptive. Generative AI is going to make making a living off art even harder - and even finding cool *free* art harder - by flooding the market with crap at a whole new scale. That sucks! It’s shitty, and it feels hideously unfair that it uses artists’ work to do it, and people have decided to label this unfairness “theft”. Now, I do not think that is an accurate label and I’ve reached the point of being really frustrated and annoyed about it, on a personal level. Not all things that are unfair are theft and just saying “theft” louder each time is not actually an argument for why something should be considered theft. An analogy I like here: If someone used art you made to make a collage campaigning against your right to make that art (I can picture some assholes doing this with, say, selfies of drag queens), that would feel violating. It would feel unfair. It would suck! But it wouldn’t be theft or plagiarism.

…*And* on whatever hand we’re on now, my own first thought *was* “Okay well, on the one hand when you look at the mechanics this is pretty obviously less infringing than collage or parody, which I don’t think should be banned, but… maybe we can make a special extra strict copyright that applies only to AI? Just because of how this sucks.” And you know, maybe I’m wrong about my current stance and that’s still a good idea! But there seems to be a lack of caution regarding what sorts of rulings are being invited. It seems like some people are running towards any interpretation of copyright that slows down AI, regardless of what *else* it implies. Maybe I’m wrong! I’m no expert. Maybe it’ll be fine and maybe I’m just too pissed at anti-ai shit to see this clearly. I really wish the AI people had done open calls requesting people to add their work to the datasets, for which I think they would have gotten a lot of uptake before the public turned against AI. Maybe if we do end up with copyright protections against AI training that’ll happen and everything’ll be drastically improved. I dunno.

But I get fucking nervous and freaked out at OTW sending DMCA takedowns as a form of agitation for increased copyright protection and I think that’s a reasonable emotional response.

[frameacloud]

Some ways to avoid generative AI in web searches

Our web searches are being filled with more and more AI-generated slop. GenAI creates misinformation that can be difficult to tell apart from the correct answer to whatever question you're looking up. GenAI mixes things up that have similar names. In one example that is especially easy to recognize, genAI has thought that a baseball team and the bird that it was named after must both be the same creature, with a bizarre combination of their eating habits and behaviors. This mistake still happens with specialized topics that could be harder for you to recognize unless if you're already very familiar with the topic in question. GenAI also makes up fake sources and facts out of thin air, and you can't tell until you try to find them somewhere else. The tech is more like advanced predictive text than something capable of research or reasoning, even though it can look enough like it that it can fool you if you don't know how to spot its mistakes.

Not only are the results of genAI unreliable, the source texts and images that they’re based on were used without permission. Sometimes they aren't modified enough to avoid plagiarism, but it's worse than that. Source images have turned out to be private medical photos and intimate personal photos that hackers had stolen and leaked to harass the people in the photos. Another reason why this technology is unethical is that each genAI query has such a high energy cost that it's significantly harmful to the environment, contributing to the climate crisis.

Here are some things that you can do when you use Google, DuckDuckGo, or other conventional general web search engines:

To turn off Google's AI Overview, set "web" as default. Here's how to do that on your devices and web browsers.

Add this string to any web search to only show results from before the genAI fad. Before:2021

Install the web browser extension uBlacklist. You give it a list of web addresses to not show you in your web searches anymore. Other people maintain lists for it that you can subscribe to so that you won’t see certain types of results in your web searches. Follow the instructions in Laylavish’s Huge AI Blocklist to subscribe to that list which will rid your web search results of AI-generated pages or images.

Since genAI slop is getting to be such a big problem on them, use alternatives to conventional general web search engines some of the time:

Use a specialized search engine instead of a general one. For example, if you only wanted to find a particular science article, there are specialized search engines that only look for those. The blog post "Skip Google for Research" has a list of specialized search engines for academics.

GenAI is notoriously bad at math because that’s too far outside the scope it was designed for: advanced predictive text. In any case, genAI is overpowered for math that is easy for computers to do. If you want to use a very advanced calculator, or even ask a math question in natural language, use Wolfram Alpha.

For questions about how to do things, look them up in WikiHow, the Youtube channel Dad, How Do I? or The Ultimate Manuals Library.

You can search within Wikipedia, but unfortunately vandals have been putting machine-generated falsehoods into it, as well as genAI images. To avoid this, use the article history to view versions of the article from before 2022.

Ask yourself if there are some topics that you often do a web search for just because you keep forgetting an answer to something. Start saving those answers in a book or file that you can refer to offline. This is called a commonplace book. For an example of one, Beth and Angel made theirs into a zine, Stuff I Often Google.

How about a completely different sort of web search than present-day Google or DuckDuckGo? Marginalia Search only brings up results that are text-heavy and similar to the web of the 1990s and 2000s. Its software is independent and open-source.

Have you been using a web search engine to take you to the websites that you visit on a regular basis? Switch to saving them in your web browser's bookmarks folder. Your web browser, Firefox, can sync your bookmarks to your other devices. If you often need to refer to a large number of static web pages (ones that don't change what is on them every day), then you can save and organize them in your Zotero, a bibliography management program. You can sort them with folders and tags so you can find them again.

[edenfenixblogs]

Fertility/Medical Stuff below the cut. Read at your own risk, for anyone interested in my SMBC journey.

I’m typing all this as an update but also mostly as a way to organize my thoughts. So I had a bunch of appointments this week and learned some stuff and I think I have a plan but I’m not sure, and I still have a follow up to go over everything and some forthcoming results next month. But here’s what I know.

1. I have a pretty good, slightly above average amount of eggs for my age

2. I have good thyroid levels (amazing news because I’ve had bad thyroid shit in the past)

3. I have good prolactin levels but idk what that means yet but I’m glad it’s good? I’m sure I’ll learn more at my follow up.

4. My fallopian tubes/ovaries are clear (yay!)

5. I have some fibroids in my uterus. This is fairly common. Unfortunately, one is like half-blocking my uterine cavity. This is not ideal. It can make it harder to get pregnant and can make miscarriage more likely. But only slightly. It can also increase the risk

So here’s where I’m at. I have ADHD and take medication for it. That medication can also make preterm labor and miscarriage a little more likely.

The surgery to have the offending fibroid removed has a pretty long recovery time (6 weeks) before I can try to get pregnant. No matter what, I can’t really try to get pregnant until September at the earliest—just due to scheduling and traveling. And I can’t fit in a surgery before I leave for all the traveling. So that puts me, if I have the surgery, at an absolute minimum of mid November before I can actually proceed with any method of getting pregnant.

However, my fertility doctor did say that the odds of miscarriage or failure are only slightly increased with the fibroid(s). My mom had fibroids when she was pregnant with me, but idk where they were in her uterus.

My doctor said she would tell me to have the fibroids removed if she was sure it would hinder pregnancy or cause a miscarriage. But she’s not telling me to do that (idk if she’ll make some recommendation at the follow up so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

If I have a baby via IVF I HAVE to have the fibroids removed. And I also HAVE TO have a bunch of meds that fuck with my hormones in a way that may aggravate a gene condition I have.

If I have a baby via IUI (for the uninitiated think of it as a more sophisticated turkey-baster method), I don’t have to have them removed OR the hormones.

If I DO have the fibroids removed the scar tissue it leaves could ALSO increase difficulty getting pregnant and increase a chance of miscarriage. So ??????? to allll of that.

The other thing is that I’m at an age where time is important. If I wait long enough to have my surgery, my egg reserve could drop significantly.

Another issue is that I’m FINALLY losing weight after my thyroid and gene issue was fixed. But to do IVF I have to get down to a better BMI before they’ll do the procedure, which would delay things even LONGER.

And finally, if the risk of miscarriage is a risk of LATE miscarriage, that could be dangerous because I live in a red state which may limit my access to a safe D&C (removal of dead fetal tissue basically)

So there’s a lot of pros and cons here, but I think my plan is to just try IUI without a surgical intervention when I get back from traveling. If it works it works and I take precautions as needed. If it doesn’t work, at least I’m not wasting time while I wait for all the other shit to fall into place.

Still, overall, I’m pretty happy with how addressable these issues are. I’m pretty mad that the government is making this more stressful than it needs to be. I hope I’m not making a selfish or stupid decision. I’m hopeful. If anyone has words of support I could use them. If anyone SMBCs or assisted repro mamas had to make similar choices, please share how you coped.

[stemms]

It’s utterly unfair that c!Quackity is seen as someone as cruel and inhumane as c!Dream, when in reality, his character is so much more complex than that.

c!Quackity’s personality may’ve significantly changed throughout the series, but it’s important to understand that there are multiple reasons for that sudden shift. Although they don’t excuse his future cruel actions, they do explain his behaviour.

At the very beginning, c!Quackity was known as someone with a strong sense of justice and willingness to defend his friends and ideals, even if it meant being hurt. The thing that he hated the most was the authority of those abusing their power or gaining it by wrong means. For example, upon arriving at the Dream SMP and witnessing the unfair elections led by c!Wilbur and c!Tommy, c!Quackity came up with an idea to provide people with a real choice. c!Quackity also never feared the idea of defying c!Dream or c!Techno, calling them out on their wrongdoings, and facing the horrible consequences afterwards. After all, what truly mattered to him was that he stayed true to himself and his ideals.

But unfortunately, upon being hurt by them time and time again, as well as going through severe abuse in c!Schlatt’s office, he couldn’t help but start to slowly realise that his only way to stay safe was to grow thick skin. Because of the amount of unhealed trauma and the loss of his partners, c!Quackity slowly but surely distanced himself from practically everyone, choosing to get rid of his old self. However, it’s important to know that it wasn’t done out of malice; it was a desperate attempt to heal and make his abusers feel the pain they had once put him through.

Despite this, c!Quackity didn’t become the heartless monster some people see him as because he never lost his ability to love; he simply became wary of his surroundings and found it so much harder to trust and forgive people due to his traumatic experiences. If he did lose his humanity entirely, why would he unconditionally offer c!Tommy shelter at Las Nevadas and provide him with the resources to upgrade his base, so he’d be potentially safer from c!Dream?

[cryptid-intraining]

People are definitely taking what Lando said out of context, I do get what he was trying to say- that the timing of VSC's, SC's and red flags are entirely random and can swing a race completely in someone else's favour and that in this instance, McLaren got unlucky with it.

But the thing is, he could have said that. He could have just said, "yeah, Max drove incredibly today and unfortunately we just got unlucky with the timing of the red flag".

Yes, people would have still found something in that statement to criticize of course but it is a significantly less aggressive and harder to misinterpret way of saying it.

Instead he said "it isn't talent, it's just luck". Which is obviously going to get misconstrued and twisted and he has to know this. Genuinely what, if any, PR training have they given Lando because it feels like he's just digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole every week where he underperforms.

Lando fans always say he's always harder on himself than anyone else and I do believe that but the issue is he's also taking it out on everyone around him.

This touches on the parasocial what I'm about to say next but I honestly don't know how they're going to stay as close friends as they were before after this season. Lando has at best been letting the adrenaline get to him in post race interviews or at worst being genuinely egotistical in his answers when it comes to racing with Max.

Just look at the differences in how Max responded to Lando's win in Miami versus what Lando said and how he acted this weekend, in Austin, in Austria. Max immediately came to Lando's defense when journalists started to question the timing of the safety car in Miami, the iconic "if my mother had balls, she'd be my dad" not even allowing for the discussion of whether luck was a factor in Lando's victory because it shouldn't be but when the coin is flipped, Lando always somehow sounds like he's making excuses. It's just bad form and it hurts him.

[yumenoberu]

Tamaki with a s/o from the Black Magic Club

Tamaki Suoh x gn!reader 

warnings: none!!

published: 11/13/24

author’s note: I’ve been trying to develop this idea for a while but could not (for the life of me) think of a specific scenario for a long-form fic with this setup in mind, so I just decided to write my scattered thoughts as headcanons!! Sorry if its disorganized btw this is basically composed of just my yapping. If you end up liking the idea and have specific scenarios in mind feel free to drop a request 🙏🏻

Tamaki possesses an affable, generally accepting, and even enthusiastic attitude toward things that are unfamiliar to him.

But despite his bearing, it all comes crumbling down at the very thought of the Black Magic Club, Ouran Academy’s fashionable group of occult and gothic enthusiasts. The bunch the Host Club is significantly acquainted with because the former quite literally live within their walls

Due to Tamaki’s natural idiocy, he’s aggravated the Black Magic Club in the past—an unfortunate amount of times. Like when he mistakenly stepped on the Beelzenef, the hooded president Nekozawa’s precious cursed doll, and was made to believe he was banished into another dimension when he took his exams—to name one of many instances.

Falling victim to their wrath left him traumatized. Now whenever their mystic neighbors are concerned, the guy loses all his 5 senses and regresses into a cowering, pitiable toddler

Considering Tamaki’s troubled relations with the group, a romance between him and someone who’s a member would be difficult but of course, never impossible~

Tamaki really strikes me as the perfect candidate for the ‘he fell first and harder’ ‘trope’, especially with this setup

It’d be cute to see him fall for someone even despite fearing their primary interests

It’d likely be a slow start—but it really depends on how his s/o reacts or responds. For his side, he’ll just be doing his best to be open-minded and yet failing to completely embrace it due to his panic.

I can see him willing himself to attend one of their weekly masses but he ends up making a run for the door, his flight senses kicking off in pure terror, as soon as he hears a low-rumbling voice expelled from the distorted speakers.

Just a thought- It’d be kinda cute if s/o was a tease, wouldn’t it? Intentionally or otherwise.

It’s really hard to fault Tamaki though, it’s a world of knowledge completely alien to him. His genuine and loving nature and the legitimate efforts he makes to understand and welcome the occult so he can, in turn, understand and welcome this inherent side of his s/o is something that everyone should admire and s/o should see that!!

Be kind to him T-T ik its fun to tease but there's only so much he can do before he burns himself with the heatwaves of his own love in attempts to accommodate his lover

His acceptance and adaptability will grow alongside his affections, slowly but surely

In due time, I can't particularly see him being immune to all things occult–as squeamish and over-reactive as he is, and I highly doubt he would participate in any sort of black magic activities on his own will

Basically, I imagine Tamaki to be tolerant of it, knowing its something that means a lot to his love, you’ll never find him never going out of his way to strike them down by showing contempt for it; the day he, in his right mind, hurts s/o’s feelings is the day he sends himself into the astral planes

Just hope s/o understands his limits and doesn’t play with his feeble heart too much!

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