#THIS ONE ALSO HAS 1K— thanks for 1k 🤍

[atomicami]

vengeance.

roommate!abby anderson x fem!reader

- summary: you’re tired of dealing with your boyfriend’s awful habits. when he ends up crossing the line with you one day, you decide to get back at him, and your not-so-innocent roommate has the perfect way to do it.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, reader and abby are roommates, reader has a shitty boyfriend, slight mentions of alcohol consumption and partying, infidelity/cheating, sex tape/amateur porn, kinda roughdom!abby, strap usage (r!receiving), abby referring to the strap as her cock, slight choking, daddy kink, abby hits it from the back, oral & fingering (r!receiving), pussy slapping, squirting, aftercare at the end ofc

- author’s note: hi everyone!! so i decided to do my very first collab with none other than the amazingly talented @whore4abby, i’m so grateful to have done this with you!!

also, consider this fic as our 1k special from us to you. thank you so much for all the love and support you’ve given to the both of us 🤍 we hope you enjoy it!!

you don’t really know how you got yourself to this point.

well, you do, actually…but you didn’t know how this could have possibly escalated so fast.

it was just a silly little conversation at first. you were simply venting to your roommate, abby about your boyfriend for what was probably the millionth time now.

“ugh, i just can’t believe him!” you exclaimed to her as you frantically paced around your room. “i told him to make the best impression to meet my parents last weekend and what does he do?! he shows up to the restaurant thirty minutes late smelling like alcohol. how can he be so…so inconsiderate?!”

you’ve been in an on-again, off-again relationship with your boyfriend for about a year now. everything went fine with the two of you at first, but now it somehow just progressed to where you both can’t even make it a week without breaking up.

abby is sat at the foot of your bed, nodding in acknowledgement as you continued to ramble to her about your asshole boyfriend. you truly couldn’t ask for a better friend like her to listen to all of your problems about this, because unlike abby, you knew that anyone else you might know couldn’t withstand having to hear about the same person every damn day of the week.

“i seriously think i’m gonna break up with him now, for good this time.” you tell her with confidence.

abby lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes at your statement. “isn’t that what you said the last fifteen times though?” she asked, further manspreading on your bed before pulling her phone out of her pocket to scroll through it.

“i know, i know,” you said, continuing to pace around your room. “he’s done so much stupid shit lately, but this is honestly the final straw for me. who knows how much worse he could get if i—“

“hey, um…you might wanna see this.” abby says, showing you her phone screen. “isn’t that him?”

“what? what are you—“ your words drift off for a moment. you take a step towards her to take a closer look at her phone. it was an instagram story that her friend manny had posted, containing a video of some frat party happening right now and you could visibly see a girl grinding and making out with your boyfriend, clear as day.

now that was really the last straw for you.

“that asshole…” you mutter quietly to yourself as you watched the story again.

to be honest, you weren’t even that upset about it. well, you were, but not to where you’d be in tears crying over him. but rather, you had an urge to try to get back at him somehow. you wanted to retaliate against him. you wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

you wanted to give him vengeance.

“i seriously can’t believe him right now,” you tell abby again as you hand the phone back to her. “you know, i’m not even upset that he cheated on me, i just…” you pause for a moment to take a deep breath. “i just wish i could get back at him, give him some sort of payback you know?”

“yeah, i get you.” abby replies before looking back down at her phone. “you know…i think i might have an idea to get back at him…show that asshole what he’s missing…” she said, flipping her phone around to eye at the camera for a moment before looking back up at you.

“really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as you took another step towards her. “i’m down for whatever, what did you have in mind?”

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and that’s how you got to where you were now, as if it had happened in a matter of seconds.

“c’mon, baby… look at the camera for me.” abby murmured to you from behind.

you laid at the center of your bed, bare body sprawled out with your ass up and abby’s thick, black strap nestled deep inside your wet cunt.

you didn’t want to admit it, but the stretch that abby’s cock had in you was overbearing. you really thought you’d take it, you told her so yourself. but now that you were feeling every single inch inside you, from base to tip—you were very, very wrong. you’re trying as best as you can to follow abby’s commands, but the immense length and girth of her strap has you feeling dizzy.

one of her hands reaches down under your stomach and makes its way up to your neck. “you really want me to repeat myself right now, princess?” she says in a firm tone, keeping her grip on your neck. “i said, look at the camera for me.”

“oh, fuck—“ you whimper to yourself as chills start to go through your spine. your whole body is fucking trembling and abby still has yet to move her cock inside you.

you try to lift your head up, looking straight into the camera on abby’s phone that was currently propped up in front of the two of you, the most dumbfounded expression was stricken on your face at the moment. you were already so cockdrunk and it clearly shows.

“atta girl…would you look at that?” abby says, looking into the camera with you as well. “see how pretty your girlfriend looks on my cock? she’s already drunk and i haven’t even started moving yet…not so bad for a girl if i do say so myself.” she continues narrating into the camera. “i’ll show you how it’s really done, yeah?”

and with that she began to start moving, painfully slow to say the least. you felt her hand let go of its grip on your neck and move to your hip, gripping it tightly as she kept slowly thrusting her cock inside you.

“you like that, princess? like how my cock feels inside you?” she asks in between her thrusts.

you end up mumbling something into the sheets, and abby could’ve sworn that you were calling her a name. her hand quickly returns back to your neck, lifting you up and pulling you back towards her as she kept her cock inside you. “what did you just call me? tell me what you just said.” she says in a stern tone, slowly tightening her grip on your neck.

“f-feels so good, d-daddy…” you slur out to her, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the tip of the strap gently presses against your g spot.

the smirk on abby’s face grew wider as she heard you call her that name. it was like music to her ears, and she couldn’t help but play along with it. “yeah? does it feel good, princess? does daddy’s cock feel good inside that little pussy of yours?” she asks, receiving a whiny nod from you in response.

abby looks into the camera and lets out a quiet groan at the sight of the two of you on her phone screen. “oh fuck, you’re not wrong…let’s take a closer look there, shall we?” she says, keeping your body up against hers with one hand as she moves forward and grabs her phone with the other. you look down as she brings the front camera down to both of your lower bodies where the strap was connecting it. now keeping her bicep firm on your upper body, she snakes her hand down to your gushing pussy, spreading its puffy lips open with two fingers in front of the camera.

“would you look at that…” she murmurs, bringing the camera closer. “that pussy’s practically crying all over my cock. does he ever get you this wet, princess?”

“n-no…” you whine out, shaking your head. “he doesn’t…”

“oh, poor thing…” she murmurs from behind, reaching down to rub your throbbing clit. “seems like you need daddy to take care of you, yeah?”

“y-yes, daddy, please…n-need you to fuck me…”

abby gently lowers you back down onto your bed before setting her phone back to its original spot, screen still fixed on the both of you. she places a hand onto each of your hips, gripping them tightly as she begins to slowly thrust her cock into your pussy.

as abby began to fuck you, you were now buried into the sheets again, releasing muffled moans and whines with every thrust of abby’s hips. in that moment, your boyfriend, and all of the fights and encounters you’ve had with him were the last things on your mind. you didn’t care about him. you didn’t even care about the video, knowing that he’ll be watching it soon. all that was on your mind now was abby and the large piece of black silicone stretching you open.

“does that feel good, baby?” she asks, slowly speeding up her pace. “c’mon baby, why don’t you tell him how it feels?”

you muster up the energy to at least turn your head to the side to respond. “f-feels amazing, daddy…b-best cock i’ve ever had…” you slur back to her, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as you fist the sheets tightly.

“you hear that?” she says into the camera. “it’s not even real, yet it’s the best cock she’s ever had…bet it’s bigger than whatever you have going on down there too…”

you continue to whine into the sheets, weakly pushing your hips back against abby’s cock as a sign for her to speed it up. “f-faster daddy…p-please…” you whine out to her.

abby looks back down to what was below her, that same smirk growing onto her freckled face once again. “would you look at that, she’s already so eager for more…” she murmurs to herself, tightening her grip onto your hips as she began to thrust into you faster than before.

“oh f-f-fuck—“ you moan out, turning your head back to see her and watching her smirk get bigger again as she admires your drunk, fucked out expression. “don’t look at me now…” she tells you before pointing at her phone. “look at the camera. look at him. tell him how good i’m fucking you.”

despite how heavy your eyelids were getting, you try to keep your vision straight, looking into the camera for as long as you could. “s-s-she’s fucking me s-so good…b-better than y-you…” you slur out into the camera before letting your head drop back down into the sheets.

“you hear that? i’m a better fuck to her than you’ll ever be.” she narrates to the camera, still continuing her fast thrusts inside you. “can’t believe you’re letting a girl beat you at your own game, man.”

it didn’t take long for that feeling to build up inside you. abby had only been fucking you for less than five minutes, and you were already about to cum now.

“a-abby, fuck—g-gonna cum n-now…” you whimper out to her, bringing a trembling hand to hold hers from behind. abby instantly swats your hand away and brings her hand down to your ass to slap it, the sting causing you to flinch a bit. “that’s not my name, princess. you wanna try that again?” she asks you, still not stopping her fast pace.

“fuck, daddy!” you exclaimed, tightening your grip on the sheets to stabilize yourself. “p-please daddy…n-need to cum so bad…”

“there we go, that sounds better now…” she replies, looking back to the camera before back down at you. “go ahead, babygirl…cum for daddy.”

your grip gets even tighter on the sheets, and your cunt begins to clench down hard on the strap before cumming with a loud muffled moan, completely coating abby’s black strap with your release.

“holy fuck…” abby groans out from behind, now slowing down her pace. without pulling out just yet, she leans over to grab her phone, stopping the video and flipping the camera to the back to record a new one. “would you look at that…” she murmurs, zooming in on your lower body, particularly on the white ring that was being formed on her strap.

she then points the camera to the very back of you where your pussy was before slowly pulling her strap out of your fucked out cunt. abby lets out another groan as she watches your pussy clench and spill out your thick release, quickly running two of her fingers over it to pick it up. you whimper and whine due to the sensitivity from her thick fingertips, but you still oblige and let her do it.

“look how fucking good this pussy looks…” abby murmurs to the camera. “you know, i heard her tell me that you refuse to eat her out…” she says, pausing for a moment to suck her fingers clean before continuing. “you’re definitely a fucking idiot, to say the least. who wouldn’t want to get a taste of this sweet girl?”

you hear abby stop the recording on her phone, letting out a breath of relief as you set the rest of your body back down onto the bed. you’re already fucked out as is, and you feel the slumber slowly starting to take over you.

however, you didn’t get to have much of it now that abby has shaken you awake again. “lie back on the bed, i’m not done with you just yet.”

“w-what?” you say weakly, fully blinking your eyes open. “i-isn’t that one enough already?” you ask, pointing to her phone.

abby shakes her head in response. “nope, we still have one more video to make…and you’re holding the camera this time.”

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you take the phone into your shaky hands, almost dropping it in the process before steadying it, abby's eyes practically burning through the camera lens as you angle your phone to film her between your legs, she slaps her hand against your folds and you whine out her name, "keep it fuckin’ steady, you hear me?"

your grip tightens on the phone and you try to keep it as steady as possible as she connects her warm mouth onto your clit, flicking her tongue up and down it a couple times, before drawing back and looking into the camera. "you see what you're missing out on, huh?" she tsks and shakes her head slightly. you draw your bottom lip between your teeth as she sinks back between your legs.

she presses her tongue to your sensitive folds as she messily kisses and licks at your pussy, groaning as she tastes you. her fingertips find your clit, rubbing circles over it as she slurps up your juices. the phone starts to slip from your grasp and abby shakes her head mockingly, slapping her hand straight down onto your pussy, fingertips smacking at your clit cruelly. "i'm not telling you again, keep that camera on me or imma keep slapping this pussy." she drawls, voice low and demanding as her gaze shifts from the camera lens to look straight into your half-lidded eyes. her stern tone has you nodding your head immediately in fear of another sharp slap.

her fingers start to slide into your entrance, slick squelching around them as she thrusts them in and out. her lips move up to suck at your swollen clit, with more purpose this time around as she feels you clenching around her fingers. "lemme hear you baby. c'mon, let it out. let him hear how good i'm making you feel." she whispers, thrusting her fingers in and out faster. she lifts her head and smirks up at you, clearly waiting for you to cum for her.

your back arches up into her and her free hand slides between your legs, roughly rubbing your wet folds as her tongue flutters over your clit, bringing you over the edge. your thighs tremble as they clamp around her blonde head which gives her no other option than to keep her head buried between your legs, sucking on your clit as you ride out your high and start to cum on her face.

her fingers continue to plunge in and out of you at practically record speed, fingertips curling against every inch of your g-spot and without warning, a stream of juices spurts from your pussy to soak her fingers and her face. she slides her fingers from your entrance, holding them up for you to see that they're covered in your juices, glistening in the light.

"look at the mess you made." she chuckles as she looks up and notices the look of absolute shock on your face as you realise what just happened.

"never done that before, huh?" she raises an eyebrow. "nuh uh." you pant out, feeling the need to pinch yourself as there is absolutely no way in hell she just made you squirt. "he's never made me do that....like ever." you giggle.

your head is still reeling as she lays you comfortably up against the pillows before she quickly fetches a washcloth from the en-suite bathroom. she returns less than a minute later, warm washcloth in hand, and starts to clean you up between your legs doting to your every need and want so soothingly, kissing at your thighs and stomach sporadically whilst doing so.

she eventually lends you one of her t-shirts to wear, gently holding your arms above your head, the soft material grazing against your skin. she climbs into bed beside you, the two of you bundled up under the thick sheets, snuggled up into her arms as your scroll through the footage taken on your phone. abby rubs her hand up your spine softly before pulling you tightly against her as she smirks at you, "gimme his number, i wanna send the footage to him."

you giggle and hand her your phone as she quickly copies down his phone number from your contacts into her own with a couple taps of her screen before opening up a text conversation with the new contact. she attaches the videos and starts to type out a message which reads:

"took care of your girl for you tonight...looks like she likes me better, don't you think?"

you shake your head and give her a little amused smile as you see the sheer look of smugness filling her flushed face, "that'll fuckin’ teach him." before pressing send and placing her phone face down on the bed in front of you.

it’s safe to say that thanks to abby’s bright idea, you were successfully able to give your boyfriend the vengeance that he deserved after all. as abby pulls you in closer to her chest, you get the feeling that this won’t be the last time you’ll do this with her.

and by the looks of it, you’ve found a new habit of your own to enjoy too.

2024 © atomicami & whore4abby | all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or translate any of our works.

[chronically-ghosted]

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –  Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.  OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

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Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits. 

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang. 

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle. 

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on. 

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights. 

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will. 

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor. 

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him. 

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down. 

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window. 

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.” 

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world. 

All in the time in the world – for what? 

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell. 

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?” 

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.” 

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men. 

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again. 

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet. 

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable. 

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare. 

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again. 

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.” 

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword. 

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm. 

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.” 

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.” 

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.” 

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.” 

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too. 

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight. 

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with. 

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand. 

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.” 

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm. 

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . .  say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?” 

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.” 

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way? 

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.” 

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart. 

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.” 

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar. 

Fuck it. 

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.” 

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth. 

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel. 

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?” 

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last. 

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape. 

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you. 

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob. 

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.” 

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under. 

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.” 

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his. 

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar. 

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe. 

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on." 

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him. 

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised. 

“Unless you don’t want –,” 

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places. 

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword. 

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress. 

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed. 

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him. 

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh. 

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor. 

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.” 

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both. 

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips. 

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils. 

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm. 

“Oh, oh, Pero—,” 

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand. 

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.” 

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body. 

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing. 

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress. 

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace. 

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs. 

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear. 

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth. 

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough. 

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly. 

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving. 

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire. 

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets. 

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again. 

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care. 

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter. 

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums. 

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.” 

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest. 

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.” 

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.” 

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.” 

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more. 

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss. 

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.” 

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.” 

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.” 

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.” 

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble. 

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs. 

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides. 

“Have you had your fun yet?” 

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.” 

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.” 

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips. 

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest. 

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks. 

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted. 

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it. 

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known. 

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart. 

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you. 

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

+

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

[nottswitch]

hii !! so for the celebration thingy ;

number: 3. character: tom riddle aesthetic (from the wheel) horror academia.

im ok w smut ! :) also have a good day

hey babes! thanks for sending a request, hope you’re having a good whatever time of the day it is for you 🤍 so, at first i wanted to reply and say that it’s me who’s supposed to choose the aesthetic, but i just really wanted to do this one with tom, because it fits so well!! so, your aesthetic is…

— horror academia

(reflects the difficulty and laborious workload of real academia, manifesting in the spooky, grim, dark, and monstrous horror ambience)

» navigation ; masterlist ; tom m.list ; how to request ; 1k celebration

18+ smut

"baby."

tom’s clenched jaw and a small sidelong glare he shoots your way shows that he still very much doesn’t appreciate the pet name. you sigh, and your hands that have been massaging his shoulders move further down his body, over the planes of his chest, making the woolen fabric of his sweater wrinkle under your touch. his body doesn’t relax in the slightest.

"can you please-"

"not tired."

tom’s voice is firm and cold, but you hear the slightest bit of exhaustion there. you know he’s lying; as much as he adores keeping up the facade of being unbreakable, you‘ve known him long enough to see the signs: the shadows under his eyes, barely there, but noticeable under the dreary lighting in his dingy apartment; the way his hand shakes around the quill ever so slightly as he scribbles down some words you don’t understand (and don’t really want to).

you sigh again, somewhat frustrated, because of course he’d never admit to being out of it. slowly, you sink down onto your knees, crawling underneath his desk. he doesn’t even seem to notice, his eyes already in another huge crumbling tome.

your hands travel up his thighs, softly kneading the tense and undoubtedly cramped muscles. that seems to bring him out of his studious daze, and he leans back, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. you give him a small shrug and tug at the elastic of his cotton pants. he runs his hand over his face, slightly shaking his head.

"not in the mood,” he mutters, but you know he’s lying again. that’s what his hardening cock is telling you, anyway. you shake your head back and still your hand over the bulge that has formed at his front. several long seconds pass before he finally, finally leans against the back of the chair.

you let out a breath of relief and pull his pants down to his knees, met with the sight of his cock springing out against his lower abdomen. kissing up his length, you look up at him through your eyelashes only to see him close his eyes and tilt his head back, his lips parted and letting out short breaths. finally, he relaxes.

your tongue starts swirling around the tip, and you hear a moan from above. it’s quiet and soft, but you know what it means: he’s really, really tired. he barely ever moans, but right now, your tongue seems to be coaxing sounds out of him. feels nice.

when your mouth envelops him completely, tom gasps. when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, he lets out a ragged breath. his thighs take up the entirety of the narrow chair seat, so his hands hang slack, twitching every time your tongues makes a particularly firm movement. another moan breaks out of him as he spills down your throat, his whole body going limp above you.

"baby-"

"no."

"okay, tom. let’s go to bed? please?"

"not tired."

playlist

❥ you should see me in a crown by billie eilish

❥ so take this night by black lab

❥ shattered by trading yesterday

❥ born to burn by the neighbourhood

[causenessus]

HIII NESS CONGRATULATIONS ON 1K!! YOU DESERVE IT SO SO MUCH LOVELY!! 🤲🏻🤍

and if I mayy, can I pls have 💕 + 💙 with iwa if that's alright? I have this picture in my head where iwa doesn't really like touching other's hands with his cause they're pretty calloused, but I just know he's the type to kiss his lover's knuckles so he makes an exception and AHHHH soft iwa always gets me

but anyway CONGRATS AGAINNN!! ILYSM AND TY IF U DECIDE TO DO THIS<3

knuckles & callouses. | iwaizumi h.

iwaizumi x f! reader

written in 2nd person

prompts from 1k followers event: 💕 -> childhood friends &💙 -> "i like the way your hand fits in mine"

"yeah i'll do everything / just let you know / all the reasons why / i'm never gonna let you go <3" from never gonna let you go by stevie dinner

word count: 1k words

notes: fluff!! this was cute to write because i have a lot of callouses on my hands from how frequently i climb ladders (catwalk monkey things </3). iwa’s definitely one of those guys who would've fallen victim to that “my hands look like this so her’s can look like this” trend years ago <3 thank you so much for requesting frans!!! i hope you enjoy this and your idea was ADORABLE

ALSO if you like this...you should totally check out @eggyrocks... who has a kuroo smau CALLED calloused hands which i thought about the entire time i was writing this AND THEY ALSO HAVE MANY MANY BANGER IWA FICS

"the conversation between your fingers and someone else's skin... this is the most important discussion you can ever have."

hajime always has a hand on you. whether it’s an arm around your waist or shoulder keeping you close, or a hand on your thigh when you’re sitting down. he likes to always be in contact with you in some way, making sure you’re still there. but despite that, no matter what, he never lets you hold his hand. whenever you reached for it, he always subtly moved it out of the way just in time. he’d casually lift it from his side where you were moving to hold it and play it off by brushing a stray piece of your hair back, giving you an innocent smile as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

“haji,” you pout one day, fed up with his avoidant habit. “you can’t constantly remind me to put lotion on my hands to keep them from drying out and then not let me hold your hands because you think they’re rough.”

“what are you gonna do about it?” he smiles, amused by your complaint. as if just to make his point clear, he brings your hand to his lips, placing a light kiss on your knuckles. he’s always taking care of you, telling you he’s happy just loving on you and needs nothing else, but that’s not enough for you.

“this,” you retort, grabbing his hand between both of yours, kissing his own knuckles. he can act snarky towards you, you’ll just act the same way back.

out of habit, he tries to pull his hand out of your grip, but you won’t let him. “y/n–”

“no, haji,” you cut him off, looking him straight in the eyes, “i want to hold your hand. i want to love on you the same way you love on me, the way you have since we were kids. and we used to hold hands all the time back then, when your hands were still soft.”

he averts his eyes, and you see the way his jaw tightens at the mention of your shared childhood, “that’s why i don’t want you to touch them–”

“i’m not done yet,” you hush him, placing a finger to his lips, “i miss hold your hands, hajime. i don’t care if they’re rough or calloused or whatever you want to call them. as much as you and your manly little head like to believe that me touching your hands is the end of the world, it’s not. do you wanna know what i think about your calloused hands?”

he blinks for a second, as if he’s seriously considering if he wants to know. his teasing demeanor has completely given away to a nervous, embarrassed one as he mumbles out a small, “...what?”

“i think they’re beautiful just the way you are,” you say, giving him a smile as you turn his hand over in your own, running your thumbs along the hills of his knuckles before you kiss them again, the way he's kissed yours so many times. “i think they show how hard you’ve worked,” you say, holding up his right hand so that you can both see it. you point out the bump on the left side of his middle finger, “i like this callus. do you remember what you told me? you said you developed it when we wrote letters to each other while you were traveling for your internship. you were complaining so much, saying ‘i’ve never had to write this much in my life! blah blah blah, i have another callus…’ do you know what that meant to me? that you were writing so much to me that you developed a callus? i loved reading your long letters, i was so happy that you wrote so much—that you didn’t leave out any details even if it tired out your hand. as much as you may hate how it looks, i like it. it’s like i’m always with you now.” 

you kiss his hand and he presses his lips into a thin line. he’s trying to hold himself back from agreeing with you, but two can play that game. there's a reason you both have stuck around each other since you were kids. “i like the way your fingers are uneven from volleyball. they show how dedicated you were to it, that even when you tore a tendon in one of them, you kept playing because you were so bent on winning. i like the way your hand fits in mine, and the way that i can feel each and every single one of your calluses whenever i hold them. i like the stories behind each one.”

“...you’re a sappy work of art, you know that?” he says after a short pause, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“oh whatever,” you roll your eyes, intertwining your hand with his. and he lets you. “i can see your cheeks are red. did i get through to you?”

“maybe,” he mumbles, looking away.

“does this mean i get to hold your hands more often?” you tease with a smile, squeezing his hand. he squeezes it back three times, giving you a silent ‘i love you.’ 

“i guess,” he shrugs, slightly pursing his lips, “but don’t complain if they get sweaty, or rougher in the winter.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it,” you laugh, lowering your intertwined hands so you can step closer, standing on the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “and now you can’t complain if i won’t let go of your hands. you’ve given me permission to hold them and i have lost time to make up for, mr. macho man with the calloused hands.”

he gives you an exasperated sigh, telling you that you've won. you give him a smug smile as he lifts up your hand to kiss the top of it, “as long as your pretty hands stay the way they are, that’s all that really matters. i’ll keep working hard. and if you truly feel that way about my hands, you can do whatever you want with them. i'm all yours.”

[maxivstappen]

౨ৎ MAXIVSTAPPEN’S 1K EVENT ౨ৎ

1K EVENT :: FICS ‧ ˚. requests closed ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

-> [ angst / hurt & comfort / fluff / smut ]

🎧 — send me a song or certain lyrics of a song with a driver and i’ll write either a completely written fic, a smau or a drabble — or whatever you’d prefer — based on the music you requested. you can also request multiple songs or lyrics of different songs and i’ll combine them into one fic

💿 — send me a driver and a number. i’ll shuffle through my playlist until i’ve reached the number you sent — and then i’ll write a fics based on that song with your driver.

📷 — send me a picture of a driver and i’ll write a small blurb or drabble based on it

-> read below the cut to see who i write for

1K EVENT :: GET TO KNOW ME ‧ ˚. asks open ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

🤍 — ask me anything! anything you’d like to know or might find interesting, go ahead and send me an ask :) wether that be about my fav driver, about other fandoms i’m in, or about my hair colour, i’ll answer :)

🎙️— send me a number of times i should shuffle through my playlist — i’ll tell you about the song and if it has any special meaning to me etc. [they usually do]

WHO I WRITE FOR :: lando norris , oscar piastri , charles leclerc , arthur leclerc , carlos sainz , lewis hamilton , max verstappen , daniel ricciardo , logan sargeant , sebastian vettel , nico hülkenberg , alex albon , george russel , kimi antonelli , lance stroll , yuki tsunoda , pierre gasly , olli bearman , franco colapinto

ABOUT OTHER REQUESTS :: i will come to them at some point, but for now i’ll focus on this event! i might combine some, but in other cases, please be patient with me <3 my (still not published) short ‘n sweet series will also be paused so i can focus on this, unless of course people request fics for songs from SnS ;)

and finally . . .

THANK YOU ! ❀

this is such a huge milestone and i’m so grateful to each and everyone of you <3 your support is what keeps me motivated to write more and more and the least i can do to thank you is writing those specific requests for you. love ya and thank you !

[tanghuyuj]

formal dinner at taco bell (ruined)!

pairing - han yujin x gn!reader

genre - fluff, comedy

warnings - taco bell, reader is shorter than yujin, just cuteness, adults dni!!

wc: ~1k

maia’s note: the yujin brainrot is real i love him so much. ZB1 COMEBACK DAY WE CHEERED!! i hope you enjoy this silly little drabble! likes and reblogs are always appreciated 🤍

read under the cut!

you and yujin were getting ready in your bathroom together. yujin in a crisp black suit, you also in your most fancy attire.

you were helping him apply his makeup, dapping a bit of concealer under his eyes. you were on your tippy toes, reaching up to his face. he was looking down at you, a dorky smile on his face.

“what?” you said.

“nothing,” he said, clearing his throat and blushing lightly.

you finished applying his makeup and lowered yourself back to your height. placing the makeup brush back onto the table, yujin pinches your cheek.

you frown at him, “really yujin.”

him, who is still pinching your cheek, chuckles. “you’re just too cute.”

you roll your eyes and pull his hand away from your face. you pat the sides of his suit with a smile.

“i feel so silly doing this, we’re dressing up all fancy just to eat at taco bell,” you snicker.

“i know,” he laughs, “but it’ll be fun!! i’ve always wanted to do this and isn’t it a cute date idea?”

“this is your idea of a cute date?” you cock an eyebrow.

he avoids eye contact sheepishly. “yeah..”

you grin at his sudden shyness. “any idea you have is a great idea yujin. now, let’s go!!”

——————

the two of you entered the taco bell dramatically. after hearing your reassurance, yujin ran to get two pairs of thick rimmed sunglasses for both of you to wear. he said, and you quote, “this is another one of my great ideas so now you have to do this with me.” you’re convinced he went all pouty just to get you to wear the sunglasses with him.

so here the two of you were, walking into taco bell with your most dapper clothing and sunglasses on. yours were plain dark black ones, his were dark black with rhinestones on it. this was a very serious matter for him.

you and yujin approached the cash register and the blonde cashier looked at you guys with the strangest expression.

“hi.. welcome to taco bell. um, what can i get you?”

you lifted your sunglasses off your face and put them in your pocket, scanning the menu of what you want.

“i’ll get a mexican pizza and..” you turn to yujin, “wanna share a large baja blast?”

he nods. “okay, and a large baja blast,” you smile.

the cashier nods, putting in your order. you look to his name tag. ‘ricky’ in all caps is written on it. how interesting, you think, you’ve never met someone named ricky.

“okay anything else?” said ricky.

“i’ll also get two doritos locos tacos, thank you,” yujin says, he still has his sunglasses on.

ricky nods again punching in yujins order. “okay that will be $13.06,” he says.

yujin pulls out his wallet from his pocket dramatically and pays in cash with exact change. you two grab your receipt and sit down at a booth.

as you sit down on opposite sides of the table you both burst into laughter. “did you see the way he looked at us??”

yujin responds, struggling a bit because he was laughing so hard, “that was hilarious!!”

the number on your receipt was called and you both calmed yourselves down from your laughing fit. that was quick, you thought.

“i’ll go get it,” yujin says, standing up and going to the counter.

he came back with your guys order, still wearing his sunglasses.

“yujin, when are you gonna take those damn sunglasses off,” you deadpan.

he lays out the food on the table and sits down. “they’re a part of me yn!”

you snort before reaching to take them off. he dodges your hand, frowning at you.

“don’t you dare.”

“watch me jinnie.”

you jump up and go into his booth seat, clawing at his glasses. he holds both of your hands, swerving left and right to avoid your attempts.

you shout, “YUJIN!! really!! come on, you look so funny!!”

he yells back, “NO!! i have free will yn. you cant take these away from me.”

still play fighting yujin, you see a familiar face in the corner of your eye.

“hey!! stop creating a ruckus!!” the cashier, ricky, shouts.

the two of you slowly turn to him. yujin is still holding your arms and you’re leaning on him.

he points at you, and then at yujin. “i’m kicking the both of you out.” he then mumbles, “just one more hour of my shift.. these weirdos are such a bothersome..”

yujin starts, “but-“

“no buts!!” the tired, blonde worker said sternly. “get out right now.”

you and yujin scrambled out of your booth, quickly taking your food and baja blast. once you were outside of taco bell you looked at each other and immediately started laughing.

“i can’t believe we just got kicked out!!” you say in between chuckles.

“yeah well it was all your fault!!” yujin took off his sunglasses and wipes the hysterical tears off his face.

you gasp, “now you take off your sunglasses?? really??”

he sticks his tongue at you and you both just stand there for a moment, realizing what had happened. you both are still holding your uneaten taco bell, outside of the taco bell you just got kicked out of.

“what.. what do we do now..?” you say, puzzled.

yujin shrugs before looking around. his eyes lock on a certain building in the shopping center you were in. he points to it and questions, “movie?”

you pause and think about it but come to the conclusion that it’s a good idea. “yeah let’s go!” you exclaim, smiling at him.

the two of you sneak your food into the movie theater and movie hop; somehow not getting caught. (you both know it’s because the workers don’t have enough energy to get mad at two teenagers in formal attire having harmless fun.) between movies, you and yujin discuss the recently watched movie and your ratings, thoughts, etcetera. some of them made you sob, some made you laugh, but its fun the entire time. after all, you’re on a silly date with your silly boyfriend, yujin.

DO NOT repost, translate, or copy.

[aethon-recs]

Hi! Thank you for all your recs. I have downloaded most of them and read most of them during my 2 weeks family vacation. They were great. I was wondering if you could recommend me any tomarry crack fics that are hilarious.

This was such a fun ask, thank you for sending this in! I had a ton of fun revisiting some old favorites in this ship that made me laugh and cry-laugh and then laugh some more. As I was rereading and sorting through the fics on this list, I noticed a few recurring themes that came up... coffeeshop AUs, social media fics, funeral-themed fics(!???), and a myriad of food-themed fics. 

I really hope you enjoy this selection of hilarious silly clever witty cracky takes on Tomarrymort 🤍

*

Tomarrymort Crack Recs

A Slice of Heaven by jellybeantarot (M, 3k, complete)

Tom is a sex worker under an agency that masks as a pizzeria, Harry orders a large sausage pizza, and yep, that's a dick in a pizza box.

almost got in a knife fight after work (a thread) / things i’ve learned since dating knife boy (a follow-up thread) by chaoscookiescrimes  (T, 2k, complete)

just Harry @'thechosenone' All im saying is a pocketknife is a purchase you’ll almost never regret.

and they were roommates by @purplemineralwater (M, 3k, complete)

Tom and Harry, roommates and stars of Gogglebox, are adored by their fans. Unbeknown to them, the fans of the show want them to be more than friends.

cam and get it by @swoontodeath (E, 3k, WIP)

Harry Potter isn't one for pornography. He's got a perfectly adequate imagination, thank you very much, not to mention a fully functional right hand. One accidental glimpse of Tom Riddle's arse, though, threatens to change everything.

Coffee Moste Evile by @wynnefic (T, 4k, complete)

After graduating Hogwarts, Tom finds work at Borgin & Burke's, where he diligently sells the darkest of arts(-themed coffee and pastries).

Dark Lord Coffee by @being-luminous (T, 4k, complete)

In which Voldemort runs his empire from a coffee shop, and wizards are generally very ridiculous.

Dearly Beloved by @wynnefic (T, 3k, complete)

Worn down after countless demands, Harry breaks and finally goes on a date with the incredibly ostentatious, vain, and self-absorbed Tom Marvolo Riddle the Third. A few days later, he attends Tom's funeral, which goes much better.

Do You Want Fries With That? (part 1) / Tom's Time Has Fry-nally Come (part 2) by jellybeantarot (T, 16k, complete)

Harry really needed some money, Dumbledore needed someone to dress up as Wendy, and Tom was the only one with the desperation to be Ronald McDonald.

found you sleeping in my coffin by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor (M, 6k, complete)

Harry gets turned into a vampire. For better or worse, Tom is there to help.

Full circle by tetsurashian (NR, 67k, WIP)

Harry and Tom’s souls are tied together. Which is why they’re in this endless loop of rebirth. At some point, they stopped caring and just started fucking with people.

Harry James [Redacted] by @duplicitywrites (T, 24k, WIP)

It had been three weeks since Harry had mistakenly landed in the 1970s, given his name to Dumbledore as Harry James, and been re-Sorted as a Slytherin. He's now broken the timeline, busted his parents' first date, and potentially botched his chances of ever being born. And, just maybe, he's also caught the attention of a certain rising Dark Lord.

Harry Potter and the—Well, Anything But This by @cindle-writes (E, 21k, WIP)

It’s 12 years after the war has ended that Death sends Harry back in time to fix the timeline and save his soulmate. Except there's one catch. Harry has to start over again from his first year.

Hiss Hiss by @vdoshu (G, 1k, complete)

Harry goes to buy himself a pet for Christmas. Tom sees this as an opportunity.

Inventing Paradoxes (part 1) / Deconstructing Paradoxes (part 2) by @perhaps-sunlight (G, 75k, complete)

When budding Dark Lord Tom Riddle overhears a prophecy predicting his demise at the hands of Harry Potter, he hatches a devious and brilliant plan: befriend the enemy, master the power-that-he-knows-not, and then eliminate him.

Keeping Your Human-Child Horcrux Happy in Captivity; A Guide to Enrichment (part 1) / The Horcrux Hotline (part 2) by @cannibalinc (M, 9k, complete)

A self-improvement series for Dark Lords with troublesome human-horcruxes. 

Local Preteens Entrap Murderous Wraith (You Won’t Believe What Happens Next) by @being-luminous (T, 22k, complete)

Harry, Ron, and Hermione discover a spell. They decide to perform it, and no one is pleased with the result.

Magically Delicious by @dividawrites, @duplicitywrites (E, 10k, complete)

Draco Malfoy is selling 'Voldemort Bathwater Boxes' at Hogwarts for questionable, unknown reasons. Harry is more curious than he should be, and this has disastrous consequences for everyone... but mostly for Harry.

no amount of therapy can help by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor (G, 2k, WIP)

The entire internet is aware of occultist youtuber Lord Voldemort's infatuation with niche content creator JustHarry. The entire internet is baffled.

no helping hand by TheOnceandFutureQueenofTarts (M, 2k, complete)

Harry just wants to have a wank; Voldemort just wants to make that as difficult and unsatisfying as possible.

Once a Paw a Time by @youlighttheskyfanfiction (T, 3k, complete)

In which Tom is still Tom, and Harry is a black cat intent on making Tom miserable. Or happy. Who knows? Certainly not Harry the cat who is absolutely just a normal cat.

Oversight by @dividawrites (E, 21k, WIP)

Voldemort’s resurrection ritual doesn’t go as smoothly as he’d planned. He requires assistance and there’s only one person he can ask—the boy tied to his father’s gravestone.

Prison Blues by @metalomagnetic (E, 68k, WIP)

Harry and Voldemort find themselves locked up in a mysterious prison.

r/AITA by @seagate-blog (G, 3k, complete)

A budding relationship seen through the eyes of Reddit posts.

Right in Front of My Salad? by IceLynx (T, 2k, complete)

In which Draco Malfoy is dead in the kitchen, Harry is regretting moving in with his boyfriend, and Tom has never been more in love.

Stories Told at Your Funeral by IceLynx (G, 5k, complete)

Tom Riddle fakes his death. To Harry Potter, the man in charge of Tom's funeral, it's all very vexing. Harry might be an undertaker, but this is a very different undertaking.

Terms and Conditions May Apply by @duplicitywrites (T, 17k, WIP)

Lord Voldemort gets one chance at a new life. This new chance comes with a lot of conditions.

The Potter Problem by Icefall (T, 8k, complete)

During his twenty-fourth time loop, Lord Voldemort meets Harry Potter at a Muggle nightclub.

The Way to a Man’s Heart by @mosiva (T, 26k, complete)

Tom has an unknown nemesis. Harry has Tom’s lunch.

The Voice of Victory by @vdoshu (T, 3k, complete)

Lord Voldemort loves a good villain speech. Harry’s just the sort to interrupt him.

Thigh High by @kushimanii (T, 400, complete)

There, covering Harry’s long, smooth legs, were the most horrifying things Tom had ever seen. And Harry was lying in their bed with them. Tom knew what his new Boggart was.

Until Midnight Comes by @dividawrites (E, 26k, complete)

A few years after the war Harry reluctantly attends a party at Malfoy Manor. He drinks a few too many and runs into a handsome man called Tom. What happens after is definitely not a drunken error in judgement—it’s love at first, blurry sight instead.

Welcome to the Cultys by @duplicitywrites (E, 12k, WIP)

Harry had two main regrets in his life: 1. Asking the question “What if I set up a mock awards show to get cult leaders to show up for my thesis study?” 2. Responding with “That is hilarious” when Ron had suggested they call the awards show 'The Cultys'.

Would You Still Love Me? by @chiocchi (M, comic/artwork, WIP)

"Harry, would you still love me if I was a snake?" Harry knows how this question works. No matter how deranged and unreasonable it is, he has to say yes. A notion he may come to regret once Tom's questions start to get darker and oddly specific.

yer a monster fucker, harry by @exarite (M, 3k, complete)

Voldemort suggests they fake a relationship. It's a reasonable suggestion, so of course Harry says yes.

*

[claraxbarton]

Hey fam,

My friend and amazing beta reader is facing some financial hardship and could really use some assistance.

IF you can donate, any amount at all, it would be incredible.

Also, if you message me to let me know you’ve done that I will write a ~1k fic or make shitty art of legitimately anyone of your choice. I’m serious about this.

Ro is amazing and has been an incredible friend to me and like, genuinely if you’ve ever enjoyed a single one of my fics ever- it’s because of her, she’s been an absolute pillar for my writing.

Please share, please give.

Thank you all

💜🤍🤍

[lawsvalentine]

congrats on 1k pooks👯‍♀️!! for your event I choose Eren, letters e, g and x (sfw alphabet)

and sabo; letters i, l, and s (sfw alphabet as well)

ty and congrats again on reaching such a milestone🫶🏾🫶🏾 you deserve it!

Eren Yeager Fluff Alphabet • E, G, X •

Cee’s Note: thank you pooks 😭🤍 ilysm and for you ofc I’ll do both. I’ll make a seperate post for Sabo 😉also eren is going to be an interesting one to write. His personality does a 180 in season 4 but I’m up for the challenge 😉

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around

you?)

Pre season 4 Eren, I think he was better at expressing his emotions.

He was very much a “wear your heart on your sleeve” type of person so you never had to guess how he was feeling

But now he is more closed off. It’s not you, don’t worry, he just has a lot on his mind and a lot of heaviness in his heart due to everything that has happened with him

You try to be there for him as best as you can and help him when you feel he needs it the most

Although he won’t say it, he appreciates you so much for everything you do for him

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What

are their habits when it comes to this?)

I don’t see him giving gifts often tbh

I see him as more of an acts of service type of lover

If your love language is gift giving, he will learn over time to give you small thoughtful gifts if that is what you desire

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Let’s be real, Eren is a hopeless idiot shsjdj and i mean that in the best way possible

He may not be the best at picking up how you feel so there will be times you have to literally spell it out to him for him to get it

But once he knows how you feel, trust he will do anything in his power to take care of you and make sure you are ok

[goldsainz]

POPSTAR!Y/N — series.

pairing: harry styles x reader

MASTERLIST.

NOTE: this is to celebrate 1k followers!!! thank you guys so much, it is actually insane that so many people follow me and like my content, so i'm very grateful. harry is back, and with a trope/series i have not planned out but i feel will develop beautifully!! also i added “‘s finsta” to celebrities bc i was too lazy to search if they had them or not… i too wanna thank @harrysfolklore for all of her help while i made this!! happy reading 🤍

liked by harrystyles, livkatecooke and 13,104,826 others

yourusername i can love me better.

view all 196,572 comments

ynfan1 WHAT IS GOING ON

devonleecarlson hugeeee slay

ynfan2 miss y/n stop giving me heart attacks pls

user1 when’s she gonna let liam go omg

ynfan3 new album alert!!!

gemmastyles I’m obsessed already

↳ harryfan1 gemma what are you doing here?????

ynfan4 this new era is gonna slay

billieeilish 👏mother👏

liked by ynfan21, ynfan22 and 31,928 others

alistupdates Y/N Y/L/N was seen arriving at a restaurant in NYC! We don’t know for sure who she was meeting, but word has it Harry Styles was also there!

view all 479 comments

harryfan21 what would harry be doing there tho?

↳ ynfan23 maybe going on a date w her

↳ harryfan22 as if harry would go out with someone like her

user21 This John Galiano look on her 🔥

ynfan24 MOMMY!!!!

liked by harryfan31, ynfan31 and 187,254 others

ynupdates y/n’s reaction when asked about harry styles!

view all 2,809 comments

harryfan32 “harry’s… haha… um, i haven’t had the chance to meet him properly…”

↳ user31 girly was struggling hard to deflect the question

ynfan32 her face was priceless

ynfan33 best bit was when she mentioned her manager to stop herself from revealing anything

↳ ynfan34 How so?

↳ ynfan33 jimmy asked if the rumours of harry being on her upcoming album were true and her eyes slightly widened and then went “i guess you’ll just have to wait and see, i mean… i see my manager glaring at me, i hear you loud and clear, sharon!”

user32 ugh get her away from harry now

harryfan33 they’d be a better couple than him and olive for sure..

↳ harryfan34 anything is better than that

liked by florencepugh, selenagomez and 11,897,032 others

yourusername i’m very excited to announce that my latest single ‘Flowers’ will be out this week! this song is for anyone who was heartbroken over a relationship but knows they are worth much more than that relationship. love yourself because no one will do so better!

view all 178,455 comments

ynfan41 already a bop!!!!!

harrystyles 🌺🌸🌼

↳ harryfan41 HAROLD WHAT R U DOING HERE

↳ harryfan42 the flowers😭😭😭 i love him sm

ynfan42 ON LIAM’S BIRTHDAY👏

sabrinacarpenter so mother of you

↳ sabrinafan41 i just know her management team is sighing

ynfan43 the queen is back bitches

user41 i can feel myself relating alr

dualipa this song is pure beautyyy ✨

↳ yourusername you’re pure beauty!!! 🌼

liked by bellahadidsfinsta, harrysfinsta and 147 others

yourfinsta me and my (alleged) bf out in the wild🔥

view all 7 comments

harrysfinsta Looking good! 😊

↳ yourfinsta can’t tell if you’re being narcissistic or complimenting me

↳ harrysfinsta Always compliment! ❤️❤️

victoriapedrettisfinsta You guys are so cute it sickens me

bellahadidsfinsta MY BABIES!! 💕

↳ devonsfinsta ours***

↳ yourinstagram i love you both sm💋

liked by ynfan61, ynfan62 and 76,430 others

ynfanclub guys someone sent this account which is supposedly y/n! it has a childhood pic as the pfp which we could not find ANYWHERE!! there are no apparent celebs who follow it, so it could be fake… what do you guys think???

view all 1,146 comments

user61 if it is her, respect her privacy. there’s a reason she made a finsta

ynfan63 i don’t think it’s her tbh

↳ ynfan64 same here!

↳ user62 not the first time someone faked being her…

ynfan65 i’d be so annoyed if i had a finsta and someone exposed it, just saying

user63 if it has that many followers, im betting it’s her

ynfan66 i requested too!!!!

↳ ynfan67 as if she would accept😭😭

[casualhedonists]

okay holy SHIT you guys are wild thank you so much for 1k?? feels like i’ve not been around here long at all (think i made the blog in november?) and i’m so so honored and grateful you’re enjoying what i’ve written so far <3

as my way of saying thank you here are some wips i hope to expand and post in the (hopefully near) future!!

⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒

all fics are 18+.

⭒ i want roses, set on fire ⭒

a longer oneshot where the reader is a district rebel with plans to infiltrate the Capitol and assassinate President Snow, except when she gets there she’s surprised to learn he’s been expecting her, and has some plans of his own

⭒ young gods and monsters ⭒

sex pollen oneshot!! post tbosas and pre-snow presidency, is a student at the Academy and Dr Gaul assigns Snow as a TA in one of her classes, they get trapped together in a lab, smut ensues

⭒ i know your wife (and she wouldn’t mind) ⭒

multi-chaptered fic, dub con with gross power dynamics

academy!reader secures a highly sought-after position interning for President Snow’s wife, but when he takes an interest in the young, seemingly innocent protégé, and finds out about a certain secret of hers, he uses it as leverage to either pursue an affair with her, or ruin her life

(i’m v excited for this one)

⭒ finally: an update on attention! ⭒

i also want to confirm there will be two more chapters before the series comes to an end (chapters five and six) and i’m vvv excited to show you what’s to come!

the next update should be out at some point next week! (i’m back home to my laptop tomorrow) 🤍

once again thank you lovely people, i’m so happy you’re here, i haven’t felt this at home in a fandom in quite a few years 🤍🤍

[getawayfox]

Do you have favorite Drarry tropes :)?

Hi Anon! Thank you for sending this ask and giving me an excuse to make another self-indulgent rec list. It was so much fun - mainly because I haven’t been reading much in the last few weeks, so revisiting my favourites for this has been an absolute blast. 

I’m a soft bean and while I will read and enjoy angsty tropes on occasion, you’ll more likely find me searching for wholesome stories. And smut. So, here is a handful of favourites for my most sought-after tropes. I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I do!

👬 Established relationship

Dragon by @lqtraintracks (M, 356 words) Things get interesting when your husband's Patronus is a Romanian Ridgeback.

It Is I Who Will Surely Expire by @tepre (T, 1k)

I call this: Draco Malfoy is super awake at 3AM staring at the ceiling going over dramatic doom scenarios (while Harry drools on his chest)

Through the Window, Clear Skies by @tackytigerfic (M, 1.4k)

What would happen if Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy moved in together, too soon after they started kissing and then fucking and not hating each other anymore? Will Draco insist on a wine rack? Or: Domestic Drarry with a bare hint of angst.

acts of service by @oknowkiss (E, 5.6k)

Harry's sick, and Draco just wants to take care of him, but they're two idiots in love, so it couldn't possibly be that easy.

✨Bonus: this piece by @bluebutter-art

🤍 Found family

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. Living with Draco (biscuit-lover, no work/life balance, good hair) and his son Scorpius (also biscuit-lover, colour-codes his bricks, proud bearer of plastic swan-shaped garden ornament) gives Harry the routine and companionship he’s always craved. There’s also the matter of the really great sex (because what’s a marriage of convenience without a little fun, after all?) It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year… This isn't the story of the marriage. This is the story of two hurt and damaged men who learned how hard they could work for the sake of love.

Beneath the Wave by @moonflower-rose (M, 30k)

Harry is done with a life in the spotlight. No more adventures, no more mortal peril. He wants a quiet life of food and friends, and family. He even manages to have it for a while, until suddenly there are giant rabbits that need ferrying to a mysterious island, and a handsome Draco Malfoy, and Harry's right back in the middle of the action again, despite his best efforts.

Pages of You by @wolfpants (E, 101k)

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't. In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire. A story about trying to figure out who you are, where you're going in life, and who you want to take along with you.

Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

✨Bonus: more art by @bluebutter-art

🍋 Smut with feelings

First Times by @fw00shy (E, 1.5k)

Their first time is in the loo.

Your Breath, My Lungs by @wolfpants (E, 1.7k)

I try not to think of the years we have behind us. School was a lost cause, it was always going to be a lost cause, but in the time since—Eighth Year, all of us cautiously coming together the way we had, how we all ended up, how we are now, nine years later, friends and loved ones and infinitely intertwined—I can’t help but worry if it’s too late for us. Maybe I’ve waited too long to tell him how I feel. - During a friend's engagement party, Harry finally tells Draco how he feels about him.

Flip/Fuck by @shealwaysreads (E, 1.8k)

Switch: to give up (something) and take something else in return

The Night of the Fireworks by @corvuscrowned (E, 6.3)

It isn't easy keeping a relationship a secret, especially when it's so new. So if Harry and Draco can find a moment to sneak off for some alone time, they're going to take it - even if it happens to be during Ginny and Luna's wedding party.

✨Bonus: Cake by the Ocean by @bluebutter-art (E, art)

On Harry's 42nd birthday, Draco treats him to a romantic getaway at the Malfoy's private beach in Sicily.

[neondiamond]

🪷 Recently Read Fics - January & February 2024 🪷

Hiii happy 2024 everyone! January was a bit of a busy month which meant I didn’t actually have the time to put together a fic rec for the first time in two years, but I am back! I still didn’t read as much as I usually do but, these are all of the amazing fics I read over the past two months (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! 🤍

🪷 Hold On I Still Need You by @enchantedlandcoffee (1k, T)

The one where Louis goes missing and Harry desperately tries to find him.

🪷 miles away from seeing you by @loveislarryislove (1k, T)

Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. His boyfriend Louis stays behind in England, but they keep in touch regularly through texts, snapchats, video calls, and more.

This fic is entirely told through images of social media posts and conversations

🪷 Daydream by @allwaswell16 (2k, T)

Every Thursday, Louis nods hello to her fellow regulars at Horan’s Cafe, one of whom is the woman of her dreams.

🪷 ‘cause i built a home for you by angelsueavenue (2k, NR)

Harry doesn’t believe that baths can induce labor. His alpha, though, is prepared to prove him wrong.

🪷 What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13 (2k, T)

Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate.

The name on his arm disagreed.

But what did his soulmark know about true love anyway.

🪷 In Jest by @londonfoginacup (4k, T)

Louis, who smiles at Harry as he reclines in his chair. Louis, whose soulmark is visible thanks to his low-cut top.

Louis, Harry’s soulmate, who seems to either be blissfully ignorant of that fact or maliciously ignoring it.

Harry would really like to know which.

🪷 You’re Already Home by @londonfoginacup (5k, G)

It's Christmas Eve and Harry's life is normal. Then he finds someone's barred the door to his favourite hiding spot -- the old groundskeeper's cottage -- and suddenly Harry's life isn't normal anymore.

🪷 knowing you’re in love with me is the greatest gift of all by @greeneyesfriedrice (6k, T)

Harry just wants to fall back to sleep in his husband’s arms, wanting to treasure the quietness of Christmas morning before their kids wake up and realize what day it is.

That dream is short lived when there’s a small shriek of joy from downstairs.

🪷 Cold Hands & Warm Hearts by kingofthefridaynight (16k, E)

a wintery uni au, where they spend time with their friends, play in the snow, drink wine in their dorm and Harry loses at Scrabble. Also, they might have been in love all along.

🪷 Your Eyes Outshine the Town by @insightfulinsomniac (19k, E)

When a freak French snowstorm traps Harry's family in Paris, he's suddenly left flying home for a Christmas spent alone. However, everything changes after a chance encounter with an undeniably attractive, generous alpha who suggests that Harry join his family's Christmas celebrations. Against his better judgment, Harry agrees, and follows Louis back to Doncaster for the holidays.

Little does he know, he'll not only become attached to the alpha, but to his entire family. Maybe his Christmas won't be as lonely as he expected.

Complete and utter fluff ensues. Sappy Christmas tropes abound.

🪷 To you I can admit, I’m just too soft for all of it by @starryhaze28 (28k, NR)

“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?”

Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him.

“It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket.

“No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.”

🪷 You’re Not My Type (still I fall) by @imogenleewriter (38k, M)

His mum is going to kill him!

Well, not kill him. Just give him a right telling off, make him admit she'd been right, then try to confine him to his room until they found a hefty Alpha to look after him and rein him in or something.

She wouldn't manage, of course. Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha.

But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire. His mobile's got no signal, his GPS isn't working, and he's running low on petrol, so he can't even use the heater.

Oh, and most importantly, his car is stuck in the mud, so even if the GPS was working and he knew where to go, he wouldn’t be able to.

He's been in stickier spots; he reminds himself. Way stickier. This is just a bit of rain; it'll blow over. Then Harry will just... well, alright, he isn't entirely sure what to do when the rain stops because he'll still be stuck and lost. But, hey, there won't be any rain, which is something to cheer about.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Oh my god! Congratulations on your achievement, you deserve us 1k and more your work is beautiful!!

And for the event, I'm choosing the 300 followers, so here it comes...

A. I may seem a very extrovert, independent, always happy person but only like on public, because once I'm alone in my room I spent my time dreaming about someone (Jason haha) loving me and holding me for who I really am, like yeah I'm extrovert but I also have my internal dilemas.

B. I love reading about history, and art, and fashion

C. I have four dogs (2 female, pitbull and labrador - 2 male, chihuahua and german shepherd)

D. As my terrible english shows, I'm not a native speaker but I'm trying, in fact, I love lenguages

E. Your blog is one of the few I turn my notifications on

F. Aparently, I like to talk about me like wtf

Again and most important, congratulations for the 1k followers, I'm sure there will be more🤍🤍

Thank you so much, nonnie!!

You are: The Sharing Clothes Trope

Jason Todd has a fondness (read: weakness) for seeing you wear his clothes. He buys hooides and shirts with you in mind, picking out your favorite colors and patterns in hopes that you'll 'steal' them. There's something about seeing you wrapped up in his scent, in the soft fabrics he chose, that has him weak in the knees and breathless.

[jakeyp]

CREATOR TAG GAME

thank you for tagging me erika @padme-amidala! 🥰

pick your 5 favorite gif sets of 2023 that got less than 1k notes and then pick 10 gifsets of someone else's that got less than 1k notes.

my sets:

this jake set (theyre all probably gonna be jake sets) cause that's when i started using those coloring settings that i always use now!

this other jake set cause it's my favorite combo of colors which is evident akshsd. it also was my first comission 🤍

this set and guess who's featuring it. jakey. not a fan of the 1st and 3rd gif but i love the rest

this set of leslie knope. jk it's jake peralta. and the set definitely deserved 1k notes 😤

and this set of not jake peralta! but it's andy samberg. it was easy to gif but one of my faves cause it's him

sets from awesome talented people: (ngl i had to scroll down some of their gif tags cause i'm not in all of their fandoms askjdhskdf)

merlin set by @ughmerlin i love her style so much, i even wanted to do a set inspired by it but i dont have the talent AKJSHDKS it's a really creative concept and the colors are so gorgeous and perfect for it!

sab set by @yenvengerberg she's a legend and this set is hilarious and i love the green! it's a crime that not all her sets get at least 1k notes cause they all deserve it

arthur set by @usershelby cause it has a quote from succession and also it's BEAUTIFUL. it was kinda hard to find a set of hers that didnt have 1k and i love that for her. also shoutout to this set cause why the hell not. and also this set. they're freaking mindblowing

jake set by @kitconnor it has a special place in my heart and ilysm mwah

got set by @padme-amidala it was so hard to pick one but this one is just... wow. those two colors go so well together and the typography is out of this world. also here's her gif page cause youre gonna wanna see it all

steve harrington set by @robin-buckleys i always recognize her gifs and i'm obsessed with her style! like the sharpening and vibrant coloring are so pretty always. i love this set cause of the color and also the no no no gif i love how each little "no" is arranged aksjhksd

bridgerton set by @cal-kestis i'm in love with the blue and the typography is so perfect. also their blending is always amazing and so smooth

sab set by @saws2004 this gifset is INSANE. like excuse me who allowed you to be this talented. blows my mind and it's one of the only things i've ever saved in fave to go back and look at it

percy set by @edwards-teach the blending on this set are you kidding me?? that second gif is straight up breathtaking i love it

heartstopper set by @lespanaye this set is hilarious and the coloring is *chefs kiss*

i'm also tagging the people mentioned above, no pressure :)

[elixirfromthestars]

Hello everyone! 🤍 So my birthday is coming up soon (July 3rd) and it has also been a little over a year since I first posted on this blog. I wanted to find a nice little way to celebrate, so I decided to do a little birthday bingo!! (This was inspired by the 1K follower celebration @espinosaurusrexex hosted 💕 If you haven’t read her stuff you really should!! ❤️)

This birthday bingo consists of a bingo card that is filled with various prompts anyone can choose from and request a little scenario/drabble for any of the characters I write for. You are also welcome to request for an AU I’ve already written for such as Detective!Bucky, Duke!Bucky, or any other one!! 🤍🩵🤍

I know my blog is currently all Bucky, but here is a list of characters I write for: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Loki, Matt Murdock, & Peter Parker.

How to Participate:

Choose a prompt from the bingo card that hasn’t been taken yet and send me an ask with the prompt, the character, and any other details + additions you would like to add to the request!

I will keep the bingo card updated to let everyone know when a square is taken. And I will write/post the request in the order that it was submitted.

As soon as a bingo has been completed, the birthday bingo requests will be closed!!

Thank you to everyone who has shown me lots of love and support in my writing. It means so much!! 🥹💗 If you’ve ever Interacted with me or my writing in any way, thank you from the bottom of my heart!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

If this birthday bingo card inspires you to make your own or write something let me know!! Send me a message, tag me, etc. I would love to read and support it!! 🥰

birthday bingo masterlist 🩵

BIRTHDAY BINGO REQUESTS CLOSED 🥳💙

Current To Do Requests in Order:

“I’ll always choose you.” — Matt Murdock

College AU — Steve Rogers

Love Language — Peter Parker

Touch starved — Loki

Bodyguard au — Loki

“Fine, keep acting like you hate me.” — Peter Parker

“Are you jealous of _____?” — Bucky Barnes

College au — Bucky Barnes

Fake Dating + Enemies to Lovers — Bucky Barnes

“ I don’t forgive you.” — Bucky Barnes

Thank you to everyone that has been sending in requests!! 🤍 I’m so excited to start working on them 🥹✨