#i’m trying to get better at it but i always forget

[gospelica]

There isn’t a shred of doubt in your mind: Sukuna knows how to emulate an ego death with the way he fucks. 

You’re used to the rough ploys, the sick dirty talk and mind-numbing orgasms that leave you half-blind. You know how good it gets, how addicted he is to ruining you. You know his end goal is always your mindlessness, each fuck an attempt to strip you of even your own name. 

What you didn’t know is how good he can make overstimulation hurt.

It was a spur of the moment thing, a bet between you gone awry when you insisted he couldn’t beat his record of pulling five orgasms from you in one night. He said he could double it, you laughed in his face— now he’s laughing in yours. 

It’s a low laugh that comes from his stomach as he bottoms out inside of you yet again. You may just be hypersensitive, but you swear you can feel the vibrations of his laugh in your pussy, it makes you whine, a sweet song he’s all-too used to. 

Number nine is approaching— you feel it in the shaking heat of your stomach and the rolling nausea that rolls over you, you’re so cumdrunk you feel sick. Sukuna’s pace stays relentless, drilling into you with a fervour that seems almost inhumane— he’s driven by the sight of you unravelling beneath him. Sweat soaks the sheets beneath you, tears stain your cheeks, Sukuna groans. 

“Come on, whore, obey my orders. Come for me.”

Your mind is so blurred you can’t tell when your orgasm starts and when it ends, a blinding moment of pleasure is all the indication of time you have. Sukuna grins, predatory like a shark set on the smell of blood. You cry, choked sobs stuck in your throat dislodge with each thrust onto Sukuna’s cock. He stretches you open, moulds you into the perfect fit for him— as if holy hands carved you from a model of his being. 

“Please,” the moment you’re sane enough to speak again, or at least try to, you’re begging for an ounce of the king’s mercy. “Pleasepleaseplease, fuck… I cant take it anymore.”

Sukuna slows, rolls his hips into yours slow enough to give you a second to breathe. He may be a sadist, but he’s lenient when it comes to you. You take the moment to look at his body. Torso toned, tattooed, and scarred in beautiful ways you could stare at until your last breath. The flex of his muscles as he moves, stretching you out, is a drug within itself. God, he’s ruined you from the inside out. 

A sudden snap of his hips into yours and you nearly scream. He’s still rock hard, and you’ve lost count of the times he’s fucked his cum into you— you take it as a testament of his need. When Sukuna thrusts into you again, his balls hitting your ass with the weight he puts into fucking you as deep as he can, you reach out and push a sweaty palm against his chest. 

“Stop,” you grit your teeth. “You’re going to kill me, I’m so fucking sensitive.”

Another slow roll of his hips, Sukuna tests the waters. He leans in, his chest against yours in a mix of laboured breaths and sticking sweat, and laughs. 

“Say the safe word.”

His dick pulses inside of you, his release near. You could tap out, let go of the all-encompassing pleasure you feel and nurse your sore thighs with a warm bath. But part of you knows you’ll grieve the fit of his cock inside you the second he pulls out and kisses you better. Ten orgasms at the hand of a man who’s done a lot worse than fuck someone into a coma— he’s not the man to push, he asks again. 

“Safe word.”

“Fuck you.”

“What I fuckin’ thought.”

A flip switches and, although you hadn’t known it possible, Sukuna moves faster than ever before. His hands pawing at your tits, cock slipping in and out of you in a frenzied pace that grounds you as much as it wrecks you. Deep strokes of his cock inside you are enough to bring hot new tears to surface, pooling in your eyes as you forget how to breathe, think, do anything other than feel his presence inside of you.

It’s everything about him, his size and weight and the smell of blood and death that sticks to his skin and permeates the air around you. It’s the dedication, his fingers circling your clit in dedicated service to your pleasure, the searing heat of his cock near-breeding you stupid. It’s the way his breath quickens, and you can see his muscles tense and, despite your mind being halfway to heaven, you know he’s on the brink of cumming. 

It’s the release you share, when he folds over on top of you, crushing you under his weight as he finishes. His hips thrusting as deep as he can get inside of you, sounds of sweet ecstasy leaving his mouth and staining your skin with goosebumps as you fall over the edge one last time. 

Number ten, blinding— you see stars and galaxies. You could be convinced you were floating if not for the weight of Sukuna on top of you. Your body spasms and jerks in response to his ministrations, a masochistic ache for more settling in your stomach as you choke on your breath. 

There’s a moment of silence as Sukuna buries his head in the crook of your neck, just a second to catch his breath. He could fall asleep right here inside of you if it weren’t for the pressing matter of aftercare, you could too. You’re so stuck on the mindless string of orgasms you’ve just had that when Sukuna pulls out of you, you nearly cry with sensitivity. 

You can't form the right words, lost in a place less real than this. He leans down, presses a kiss to your lips softer than anything you’d imagine possible from the King of Curses, and then ducks his head down further to kiss the pussy he just fucked numb. 

A cock of his head, chest still heaving with exertion. 

“Cmon,” a hand extended to you, “bath. Y’need it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later.”

[faithsotherhouseofchaos]

Is it possible, if you’re comfortable with it, to request a reader with a service dog where some fans kinda mean about her needing it and her boyfriend stands up for her and offers some much needed comfort? For Max or whoever you feel like doing it for?

Bailey the dog||Max verstappen x fem!autistic!reader

Summary — after some negative comments about Max’s girlfriend and her service dog max puts his foot and put an end to it.

Word count-1027

Being with Max Verstappen was a dream, but it came with its challenges. The Formula One world champion lived his life under a microscope, and by extension, so did you. Dating him had brought you joy beyond measure, but it also opened you up to the scrutiny of millions of fans, most of whom didn’t know you beyond the curated snapshots of your life they saw online.

You tried not to let it bother you—most of the time, you could shrug off the judgmental comments and cruel assumptions. But sometimes, the weight of it all became too much.

Bailey, your golden retriever and service dog, had been with you for years. She was more than just a dog; she was your lifeline. Whether it was helping you manage your anxiety or providing physical assistance on tough days, Bailey was always by your side. Max had accepted her instantly, treating her like family from the very beginning.

But not everyone was so kind.The latest storm of negativity had started after you attended a recent Formula 1 event with Max. The cameras had captured you and Bailey by his side as you walked through the paddock together, and while most fans were supportive, a loud minority had taken it upon themselves to criticize you.

“She’s so desperate for attention. Why bring that dog everywhere?”

“She looks fine to me. What does she even need a service dog for?”

“Max could do so much better. She’s embarrassing him.”

The comments spiraled from there, turning into an avalanche of baseless accusations and unwarranted cruelty. You’d tried to avoid reading them, but curiosity—or maybe a self-destructive streak—got the better of you. By the time you closed your phone, the words felt like they were etched into your skin, impossible to forget.

You spent the rest of the day on the couch, Bailey’s head resting on your lap as if she could sense your distress. You stroked her soft fur absentmindedly, the repetitive motion soothing your frayed nerves.

When Max came home from the gym, he immediately noticed something was wrong.

“Hey, liefje,” he greeted, dropping his gym bag by the door. His usual smile faltered when he saw the look on your face. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a weak smile. “Just tired.”

Max’s brows furrowed, and he crossed the room in a few quick strides. Sitting down beside you, he gently tilted your chin up so you had no choice but to look at him.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly. “Don’t pretend. Talk to me.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you hesitated. You didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, but Max’s concerned gaze broke down your walls.

“It’s the fans,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “They’re saying horrible things about me. About Bailey. They think I’m using her for attention or that I don’t really need her. And they’re saying I’m embarrassing you.”

Max’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he listened. “Who’s saying that?”

“Just… people online,” you said, shrugging weakly. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t let it get to me, but…”

“It’s not stupid,” Max said firmly. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you broke down against his chest. His hand stroked your hair, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “It’s not stupid at all. People don’t understand, and instead of trying to, they judge. It’s cruel, and it’s wrong. But you are not embarrassing me. Not ever.”

His words were a balm to your wounded heart, but the pain lingered. “I just wish they’d stop,” you whispered.

“They will,” Max said, his tone carrying a determination that made you pull back to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to say something,” he replied, grabbing his phone.

“Max, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted, his blue eyes blazing with conviction. “I’m not going to sit by and let people talk about you like that. You’re my girlfriend. You’re the strongest person I know, and Bailey is amazing. They need to know that.”

Before you could protest, Max opened Instagram and began typing. You watched as his fingers flew across the screen, his expression resolute.

A few minutes later, he showed you the post.

The photo was one of you and Bailey at the paddock, smiling at each other while Max stood beside you, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The caption read:

“This is Y/n and her service dog, Bailey. Bailey isn’t just a dog; she’s a trained professional who helps my girlfriend manage things you don’t see. If you think you have the right to judge her for needing Bailey, think again. Kindness is free. Maybe try using it. And to the majority of you who support us—thank you. Your love doesn’t go unnoticed.”

He hit “Post” before you could say anything, setting his phone aside and pulling you back into his arms.

“Max, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, I did,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because I love you. And no one has the right to make you feel like you’re anything less than incredible.”

The post went viral within hours. Fans flooded the comments with messages of support, sharing their own experiences with service dogs and calling out the cruelty of the original comments. Some even apologized, admitting they hadn’t understood before.

As you scrolled through the responses later that evening, tears filled your eyes again—this time from gratitude.

“You didn’t just stand up for me,” you said, looking at Max. “You stood up for everyone who’s ever needed someone like Bailey. Thank you.”

Max smiled, pulling you closer. “You deserve the world, liefje. And I’ll do everything I can to give it to you.”

Bailey barked softly, wagging her tail as if to agree. Max chuckled, ruffling her fur. “Looks like Bailey’s on my side.”

“She always is,” you said with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days.

With Max’s arms around you and Bailey by your side, you felt stronger than ever. No amount of negativity could take that away

[adoreangelia]

Forget About It ─. ꪆৎ

pairing: reader x rafe cameron

warning: suggestive, making out, little bit of angst, fluff (toward the end).

summary: rafe and y/n’s argument get heated and rafe shuts her up with a kiss, turning it into a steamy make out session.

a/n: just some practice with my writing. trying to figure out how I want to write these two losers together.

you and rafe had been living with each other for a while. at first everything was perfect, ya’know ? “the dream” i guess you’d call it.

over time you started to notice small habits rafe had. it didn’t bother you too much— telling him to do this or that and he’d apologize and do as asked.

eventually the small comments you’d make started going through one ear and out the other.

for one the man never picked up behind his self — always leaving his dirty clothes on the floor. sometimes he’d spill something on some sort of surface and not wipe it up.

eventually this led up to an argument between you two— it was only a matter of time before you got fed up.

“I just don’t understand why you can just do what i’m asking, i mean seriously what the fuck is so hard about it?” you shout motioning toward a shit load of clothes piled on the wooden floor of your apartment bedroom.

his eyes dart over to the pile of clothes— and slightly roll at your dramatics.

“well i just wanna know why it’s that serious of a problem for this to be a argument baby.” he speaks his tone of voice almost nonchalant.

“what the fuck— lord please take the wheel.” you mumble to yourself trying to not get more worked up then you already are.

“no, it’s the fact that’s i’ve been asking you this whole week to pick up these clothes.” you scoff at the man’s emotionless response, throwing your hands up in distress. “know what i don’t even care, im leaving and when i come back this shit better be picked up.” turning on your heels heading for the door.

rafe dates a deep breath and speeds matching your steps grabbing your wrist to holding you back from reaching the bedroom door.

it was all a blur— and in the process you ended up being pushed against your bedroom door you and rafes tongues tangled in one another. your bodies flushed against each other.

rafe pulls away kissing along your jaw line before he starts to move down leaving open wet kisses along your upper body.

“fuck rafe” you let out a breathy moan, as your hands tangle in his dirty blonde hair.

your lips locking into one another one of his hands hold the side of your face while the other hikes up under your shirt— gently squeezing at your breast.

your legs squeeze together try to get somewhat friction on your growing heat.

rafe smiles against your lips to himself knowing he’s the one that’s got you feeling like this.

kissing you a few more times he pulls away a string of saliva connecting you two.

his chest rises up and down out of breath from the kissing.

“cm’on doll let me take care of you.” he whispers his warm breath blowing against my skin.

for a moment you forgot what you even pissed off about in the first place until your eyes travel over to the pile behind your boyfriend.

“uh no— get off me.” you grunt your tone of voice changing within seconds.

“when you clean that shit up, i’ll think about it.” a smug smile plastered on your lips knowing he’d do anything to get in between your legs.

“are you— are you serious right now?” he stutters lost for words at the sudden switch up.

giving him a stern look he sighs pulling off of you.

“alright fine..” he mumbles under his breath, “could you atleast help me?”

you nod your head and give a playful eye roll. “i mean, i guess, come on.”

he turns around and walking over to the pile of clothes, you can’t help but notice how good his ass looks in the blue jeans he’s wearing— giving it a smack.

“y/n stop what did i tell you ‘bout that!” he whines turning back to you with a pout.

a/n: guys did i eat 😕

[sunshineyuyu]

princess treatment (j. yh)

★ summary: you have a crush on jongho, but he’s chatting up someone else. so, you end up getting high and hooking up with yunho instead. ★ pairing: yunho x f!reader ★ genre: college, smut (mdni!) ★ word count: 4.3k ★ tags/warnings: weed & alcohol consumption, yunho calls reader princess, high sex, piv sex (with a condom!), vaginal fingering, spanking, choking, slight dom/sub undertones, ig under-negotiated kink?, big dick!yunho, yunho manhandles reader, yunho is taller than reader, yunho has tattoos lol, dirty talk, intentionally lowercase ★ notes: this is the prequel to the jongho fic chained and the final “part” of this series! yunho from chained was just a lil too hot for me to not write something for him too! let me know if i missed any warnings!! ★ masterlist | read on ao3 | chained (jongho sequel)

you look so hot tonight. you’re wearing your new favorite top—with a deep deep cut that makes your chest the center of attention—and a pair of jeans that you know makes your ass look good.

all of this to hopefully attract the attention of one choi jongho, who you’ve been crushing on for the better half of the semester, since san introduced you to him. he’s built and tan and nice and smart and sexy.

and he’s currently leaning against a wall—cradling a red solo cup and swirling its contents like he’s james fucking bond or something—and chatting up some pretty blonde girl.

you practically feel smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the two of them—the way jongho leans forward so that he can hear the girl amidst the blaring sounds of somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper. ryujin puts a hand on your shoulder and the warmth of her palm makes you realize how tense you are. she shoves a beer into your hand.

“forget about him, honey,” she says. “he’s not worth it.”

“it’s not like he’s a fuckboy,” you whine, struggling to crack open the can with your recently cut nails. ryujin takes pity on you and opens it for you. you take a deep drink from it before wiping the edge of your mouth with your wrist. “he’s nice. he brought homemade coffee to class for me the other day.”

“mmm,” ryujin says. “i know, honey, but no boy is worth it. c’mon, let’s go play rage cage.”

you let ryujin pull you away to a different room, where the birthday girl yeji is parading around on wooyoung’s shoulders while spraying everyone with bubbly champagne. you don’t even really know yeji—she’s an acquaintance of an acquaintance, but you came because you wanted an excuse to get drunk and look hot and get jongho’s attention, only two of which you’ve managed to succeed in.

you finish the beer at an alarming rate and crush it in your fist.

“i’m gonna go get some air,” you say. “i’m not really feeling rage cage right now.”

“i’ll come with you,” ryujin says.

you venture to a different part of the house, trying to locate the stairs back down to ground level, but instead spotting a balcony. ryujin follows you here, where up close you realize it’s not empty.

the balcony is big—big enough to have several foldable lawn chairs strewn around, all occupied by various zooted-adjacent individuals. you and ryujin find a small opening against the railing, and you push up against it to feel the wind blow against your hair.

“men are shit,” you proclaim, apropos to nothing.

“men are shit,” ryujin agrees.

“you wanna smoke?” this voice is new, and it doesn’t belong to ryujin. it comes from your other side, and you turn slowly to appraise the person it originates from.

he’s holding a blunt out to you, a small thin thing between his thumb and pointer finger.

it’s jeong yunho. 

you don’t really know yunho, but you know him enough. he’s a friend of seonghwa’s, which means you’ve seen him at enough parties—been shoved next to him during rage cage, had him hold your hair back while you took a bong hit. he’s tall, with soft black hair, and has a tattoo of a dragon curled around his right forearm. there’s a perpetual lazy look to him—a smirk always playing at his lips.

he’s attractive, and he’s offering you a smoke from his blunt. you don’t think twice before you’re stepping closer, pressing your lips against the end of the blunt and inhaling. a low tsk comes from ryujin, but you focus on letting the sour smoke fill your lungs, all while you maintain eye contact with yunho.

“ryujin,” you say, coughing a little since it’s been a while since you’ve taken a direct hit. “can you get me some water?”

ryujin gives another tsk, but then you shoot her a look that she understands in an instance, and she slips away to “get you some water.”

you turn back to yunho.

“you looked like you needed it,” yunho says, taking a pull from the blunt and then blowing the smoke back out. 

you hum lightly, crossing your arms from both the night chill and because you know it makes your tits look better.

“you’re right.”

yunho holds the blunt back out to you, right in front of your mouth. you take another hit. this time you close your eyes and you breathe it back out, letting your head fall back and your hair hang loose.

“it’s nice,” you say. “thank you.”

“anytime,” yunho says.

you continue the back and forth of the blunt a few times, until you’re starting to really feel it, which is good because the blunt is practically finished, yunho barely pinching onto it after your puff.

“last one,” yunho says, a little breathy, and eyes more hooded than usual. 

on this last one, you meet yunho’s half-gaze and blow the smoke directly into his face. he’s closer than you really remember him being, but you don’t mind. he’s big and he blocks the wind. he flicks the stub of the blunt onto the ground, grinding it with the toe of his shoe. he raises his head back up to you.

“that was hot,” he says.

“i’ve always wanted to have high sex,” you say.

“i can make that happen,” he says.

he leads you to the stairs, down them, and out the front door with a surprising amount of clarity. meanwhile, you’re letting the sound of whatever chainsmokers song is playing drag you back to your high school days. an uber appears out of seemingly mid-air, and you’re suddenly in the backseat of a sedan. yunho’s shoving the armrest into the backseat and pulling you into him.

the ride is smooth, and you take it in turns to focus on different things. first, the dulcet sounds of a jazzy trumpet, fragmented and dusty because of the car’s worn speakers. second, the rushing of lights in the windows, leaving behind trails of white, yellow, a smear of blue.

finally, yunho’s hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles in that sliver of skin between your top and your jeans. it’s nice, makes you feel warm. you press deeper into his chest, your hand pressed into the cotton of his shirt.

he leads you up to his apartment and throws his keys into a ceramic bowl near the front door. 

“do you want water?” he asks, heading towards the kitchen like you hadn’t propositioned him fifteen minutes ago after sharing a blunt together.

“yeah,” you admit, when the full feeling of cotton mouth hits you.

after several gulps of the most delicious filtered water you’ve ever had, yunho’s crowding you into the countertop. he towers over you, but that works because you like feeling small, overpowered.

“you sure about this?” he asks, and if you weren’t high you would’ve said something about appreciating the ask for consent. instead, you lock your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height and pressing your lips against his.

the kiss is immediately intense, his tongue roving against yours, while his hands—jesus, they’re massive—press into your sides, palms hot and fingers digging.

“yes,” you say.

he picks you up effortlessly, and you manage to wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you into his room. he sets—no, throws—you down onto the mattress. you bounce a little and fall backwards onto the pillows. you’re getting ready to bite out a retort at being tossed aside so roughly when you see his face: calm, emotionless, but a distinct darkness in his eyes.

“fuck.” you mean it as a breath, but it comes out like a moan. 

yunho pounces.

he kisses you briefly, before descending to your neck, your collarbone. he’s pushing your top off your shoulder, mouthing at the flesh at the top of your breast.

“take it— take it off,” you say.

yunho obliges, sitting back to push your top up past your chest and over your head. he lingers there for a little longer, eyes running over your tits and your nipples hardening under his heavy gaze.

“hot,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“touch me,” you say.

he obliges, palming your tits and pinching your nipples. rolling them between his fingers and revelling at the way you keen under his touch. 

“sensitive?” he says, all breathy while watching you.

“y- yes,” you say. “the- the weed—”

“mmm, yeah, i know what you mean.”

you reach down to the button of your jeans, but yunho catches your hands and lifts them above your head. he presses into it, hovering over you.

“i’ll take care of you, princess,” he says. “be patient.”

this pulls a squeak out of you. the assertive tone, the pet name, combined with the way that it only takes one of his hands to lock your wrists in place—it’s new to you, but you’re suddenly so fucking desperate to get out of your pants.

the unoccupied hand goes to your jeans, and you close your eyes, as yunho deftly unbuttons it, but drags down the zipper slowly to reveal your mildly scandalous underwear: red and lacy with a little bow.

yunho whistles. “y/n. that’s kinda sexy.”

he releases your wrists to use both hands to slide your legs out of your jeans. he goes slow, trailing behind his hands with his lips, which leave a scorching trail of lazy kisses. he’s looking at you as he goes, his eyes never wavering. you almost blush from the heat of his glare.

“you shy?” yunho teases, reaching up to palm one of your tits. 

“no,” you say. “just- just ready.”

“mmm,” yunho says. “i told you, princess. be patient.”

in an instant, you’re suddenly on your stomach, bouncing again. your waist feels a little tender from where he gripped you hard to turn you over, and your head feels a little woozy from the sudden movement, but then you feel yunho tapping on the outside of your thigh.

“up.” one word, one syllable, but coated in dominance, and you’re on your knees in an instant, ass up.

“fuck, that’s a nice view,” you hear yunho say, and you feel his hands splay out on your cheeks. he squeezes a little and chuckles.

slap! 

you fall onto the mattress, arms slow to catch yourself. did he—? did he just smack your ass? the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done in bed was some light hair pulling, but you’re finding that you don’t mind the buzzing you feel in your ass right now.

in fact—

“oh.” it comes out like a whine, and yunho hisses in satisfaction.

“you like that, huh, princess?” yunho says, his voice low.

“mm.” you can’t manage words.

“good,” he says, but even then you can’t anticipate the next slap. it’s harsher this time, and you jerk from the touch. “gonna make ur ass red to match those panties.”

it’s filthy. the way he’s talking. you’ve only heard talk like this in porn, and you’d always thought it was overly scripted. but yunho’s just talking, eliciting tiny squeaks and squeals of surprise from you that you also have only heard in porn and thought was fake.

“p- please,” you say, lower lip trembling a little. you finally chance a look back at yunho, and you find him still completely clothed, kneeling on the bed behind you with his hands on your hips.

“please what?” yunho says, smirking.

“touch me,” you gulp.

“where?”

“here.” before you can overthink it you’re taking his much bigger hand and moving it to your core, to where your underwear is already soaked. 

“okay, princess,” yunho says. “since you asked nicely.”

he starts rubbing your clit over the fabric of your underwear, a feathery touch that still makes you shudder. his other hand slides up your back and settles between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

“stay still, okay?”

you whimper in response, because soon he’s pushing aside the crotch of your panties, teasing the pad of his finger at your dripping entrance.

and then he’s pushing not one, but two long fingers into you. the first thrust is slow, and you can feel your walls pulsing around the digits. the second, third, fourth thrusts are hard and fast, and his hand on your back is bruising.

“fuck,” yunho hisses. “so wet and tight, princess.”

“hnng,” is your reply, because yunho is hitting that spot in the back, and your thighs are quivering.

“turn around,” yunho commands. “i want to see you when you cum.”

you scramble to follow his direction, flipping onto your back and pulling your knees closer into you. yunho shoves fingers into your mouth before you have a chance to say anything, and you suck on instinct, lapping at his fingers and tasting yourself on them.

“fuck,” yunho says, and then he withdraws the fingers and pushes them back into your cunt. you stare down at his hand, at his arm—the one with the dragon tattoo wrapped around. at how the scales of the dragon dance with the veins of his forearm as he pistons his fingers into you.

you’re a babbling mess of whines and coos and squeals, and suddenly yunho’s other hand flies up to your throat.

“this okay?” yunho asks quietly. his voice is low, like he’s trying to be sultry, but you can tell he’s watching carefully to see your response.

this is new. you’ve never done this before. you’ve seen it, heard about it. 

you like it.

you nod, and yunho smirks.

his grip is loose, but this new pressure on your throat makes you a little dizzy, a little lightheaded, and makes the fluttering in your stomach speed up. both your hands come up to grip his arm, to feel the muscle beneath your fingers.

“i’m- i’m close,” you croak.

“good.” and yunho picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you until you feel that crest of nerve endings exploding. your back arches, your head falls back, your eyes close—the feeling ten times more intense than usual because of the weed in your system.

you collapse against the bed, breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers.

“fuck,” yunho whispers. “that was hot.”

he’s perched over you now, a hand on your cheek brushing your sweaty locks out of your face. he kisses your neck, softly.

“i- i want—” you have to pause to catch your breath.

“yeah, princess?” he grins at you.

“this,” you say, your hand cupping the very apparent tent in his pants. this takes yunho by surprise. he jerks, but your hand remains. you experiment with palming him a little, feeling how firm his cock is. how big it feels even under the thick strain of his pants.

“yeah?” he says.

“yes,” you say. “please.”

“ok, princess.”

he reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off by the collar. you blanch at the sight of his torso. lean, lithe muscle. another tattoo along the top of his ribcage that you’ve never seen before. black calligraphy strokes that spell out something in what you think is japanese.

“what does it say?” you say, before you can stop yourself. you run your fingers along the words, touch soft.

“nana korobi, ya oki,” he says, equally softly. “it means ‘fall down seven times, get up eight.’”

“it’s beautiful,” you say.

“not as beautiful as you,” yunho says, and he tugs your underwear down from your hips and off your legs. you suddenly remember exactly what you’d asked for.

“so. fucking. beautiful,” he continues, undoing his belt and throwing it aside. he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them halfway down his thighs. there’s a small wet patch on his briefs, but those are soon pulled down too to reveal—

he’s big. long but not too thick. the head of his cock flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

you feel your mouth inexplicably fill with saliva.

“you’re- you’re—”

“you can do it, princess,” he says, kicking off his briefs and jeans the rest of the way. “you can take it.”

you nod obediently.

he reaches over you for his bedside drawer, returning with a silver foil condom packet and a little plastic bottle of lube. he tears the condom open with his teeth, spitting out the corner and then rolling the thing down his length. you lay back, eyes up to the ceiling. you hear the distinct pop of the lube cap, hear a liquid sort of noise, and then you feel his fingers again. cold and a little slimy, probing at your entrance and briefly nudging at your sensitive clit.

“you ready?” he says, lining himself up.

“mm.”

he pushes in slowly, and it takes all of your willpower not to clench instinctively. he groans while he slides into you, and the pace allows you to feel every inch of him. the stretch is difficult at first, but the further in he gets, the less control he has and soon, he bottoms out.

“you can- you can move,” you say.

“don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”

yunho’s hands find your waist, grip it hard, and then he pulls back and thrusts in again, but still slow. you can feel his eyes on you, making sure his size doesn’t overwhelm you. as he builds up his pace, his hips snap against yours, filling the room with positively lewd sounds that combine with his deep breathing and grunts and your whimpers and whines.

he fucks you into the mattress, stretching you so deliciously.

you find one of his hands and lead it up to your throat. yunho’s eyes widen, but he wraps those long, perfect fingers around your neck, grip tighter this time.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, princess,” yunho says. “taking my cock like that. such a good fucking girl—fuck!”

you’re overstimulated, but in the best way. lightheaded from the choking, sensitive everywhere from the weed, and so turned on from yunho’s praise. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly fucked.

as yunho pounds into you, he starts cooing and moaning about how good you look, how good you sound, how good you feel.

“yeah? you like that, princess? yeah—let me hear you. tell me how good i’m fucking you. fuck—your pussy is perfect. like you were fucking made for me. such a perfect princess.”

you can’t tell if you’re close to another orgasm, or if this is just all one long extended orgasm. all you know is that your body is buzzing with pleasure, and you feel really fucking good.

eventually, yunho’s thrusts grow faster and more erratic. he gives one final push and stays buried in you, chest rising and falling.

he pulls out slowly, checking to make sure the condom worked.

“fuck, that was good,” he says, breathless.

“yeah,” you agree, boneless.

yunho swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking off the condom and tying it up before throwing it into a trash can. you’re a bit miffed that he is already fully operational, while you feel like you had all of your inner organs rearranged.

“give me a sec, princess,” he says, as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants. “i’ll get you some water and get you cleaned up. just relax.”

your head still feels a little woozy, but you slowly come back to your senses as you hear yunho bustle around outside. finally, he comes back into the room guzzling a chilled bottle of water. he recaps it and hands it to you. you drink deeply as you feel yunho wipe at your thighs with something warm and wet. the cool water reinvigorates your throat after having yunho’s hand pressed against it. 

“you good?” he says. “i wasn’t too hard or anything?”

“no,” you say. “no, it was good. i liked it.”

“good girl,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting your head. it’s mildly patronizing, and but you’re to tired to retort back. 

he shifts deeper onto the bed to lean back against the headboard, running his fingers along your spine. it’s relaxing and—together with the water—helps you ground yourself as you feel the last remnants of weed and arousal fog clear from your mind.

“you like jongho, right?” he asks, apropos to nothing.

you choke. you spend the next few seconds spluttering and coughing while yunho rubs your back soothingly.

“i don’t- why are you—?”

“that’s why you were all sad at first, right?” yunho says. “on the balcony?”

you stare at him, finally able to breathe properly.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me.”

yunho hums. “i don’t know about that—” and he pinches your back when you open your mouth to protest “—but i don’t mind being your fuck buddy while you get over him.”

you purse your lips. truth be told it was good sex, but your… thing for jongho isn’t something that you can just get over with a couple good fucks and some weed. you don’t know how to tell yunho—someone you’ve only really ever been around either drunk or high or both—about pulling all-nighters with jongho to finish your homework together, sleepy and giggly and delirious; or how he knows your coffee order without ever having asked; or the way his eyes crinkle when you show him a funny meme.

so, you settle with a small smile and a peck to yunhos’ jaw.

“i’ll consider it,” you say, and you get up to start redressing. you’re sobering up properly now, and the flimsy top you’d been wearing before feels a little scandalous for your current mental state. after hesitating briefly, you grab yunho’s discarded top and put it on.

“well shit, when you do stuff like that,” yunho says, running his eyes over how his shirt dwarfs you.

“i’m- i’m cold,” you mutter.

yunho just laughs, ruffling his hair.

“hey—you hungry?”

he takes you to the 24/7 burger joint just outside his apartment, harsh fluorescent lights and greasy air doing their best to sober you up even more. he orders and pays for you, while you slide into a corner booth to avoid anyone seeing how utterly fucked out you look: hair in a messy bun to hide the knots, body swimming in yunho’s shirt, mascara smeared under your eyes, and hand constantly on your neck to cover up the massive hickey you discovered while peeing—when had yunho even given it to you?

yunho scoots into the seat opposite you with a handful of napkins and a little paper cup of spicy ketchup. after you receive your tray of food, you and yunho spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the basics when you both realize that you don’t know much about each other.

it’s easy to talk to yunho, whose light chuckles and lazy smiles are comforting. while you might not take him up on the fuck buddy proposal, you just might keep him around as a friend.

you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and you reach for it to see a text from san, asking if you’re okay.

to: san

[1:40 AM] yeah i’m good

[1:40 AM] actually can u come pick me up. i’m at the burger place on 8th.

from: san

[1:42 AM] yeah omw

you slip the phone back into your jeans while you sip on your soda.

“san’s coming to get me,” you tell yunho.

“oh, cool,” yunho says. “yeah i was gonna offer to take you home or something—it’s so late.”

you hum, warming in appreciation for yunho’s intent. he really isn’t a bad guy—not that you’d thought that before. he’s always been a neutral acquaintance, but you’re really starting to enjoy his company now.

“thanks,” you say. “for the food, and—the other stuff.” 

yunho laughs.

“you’re cute,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose with a greasy finger. you dab at it with a crinkly brown napkin.

ten minutes later, your phone vibrates again to indicate that san is outside in a silver uber. you thank yunho again, and even give him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, your face flaming as you turn away from him to leave the diner.

when you throw open the door of the car, you find not san, but—

choi jongho, stuffed into the backseat with a slight flush on his cheeks and a loose grin. you stare at him, and he stares back. the only empty seat is in the middle.

“scoot,” you say.

“i’m too big for the middle seat,” he says, but he doesn’t make any moves to exit the vehicle to give you the space to slide into the car. you nudge him. “just climb over me.”

a low string of curses leave your mouth as you reluctantly clamber around his big frame and into the middle seat, where you finally see san sitting on the other side. you’re so preoccupied with greeting him and thanking him for coming to get you that you don’t notice jongho’s eyes narrowing at the shirt you’re wearing—yunho’s.

“you coming to our place or going home?” san asks.

the words your place are on the tip of your tongue when you look back at jongho, noticing now a small red bruise blossoming just under his jaw. this causes you to snap a hand to your own hickey, which you hope is hidden by the shadows.

“home,” you say quietly. “ryujin’s probably waiting for me.”

the uber starts up again, and you lean your head back onto the headrest, determinedly avoiding jongho’s gaze. you know that you just went off to hook-up with someone random, but it doesn’t sting any less that apparently jongho was doing exactly the same thing.

at that moment, your phone lights up with a new text.

from: unknown number

[1:59 am] hmu whenever, princess ;)

continued in chained (c. jh)!

[oldsoul007]

“just friends”

joel miller x reader

summary: y/n and joel confess their real feelings for each other

joel miller masterlist

Me and Joel had been best friends for as long as we could remember. We’d spent countless hours laughing, supporting each other through tough times, and sharing our dreams. There was an unspoken bond between us, something deeper than friendship, though neither had ever acknowledged it—until that night.

I had been excited for my date, which was a rare occasion. I’d been talking to Joel about it all day, telling him how nervous I was. Joel, however, wasn’t as thrilled. He’d been quiet about it, his usual teasing banter replaced by an uncomfortable silence whenever the topic came up.

As the evening approached, Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He kept offering me advice on how to handle the date, but his tone was off, almost as if he was trying to find a reason to keep me from going.

“Are you sure you want to go out with him?” Joel asked, his voice tight with something I couldn’t quite place. “You’ve only met him once.”

I frowned, sensing the unusual tension. “What’s with you, Joel? You’re acting all weird. It’s just a date, nothing serious.”

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. “I just don’t like the idea of some guy getting to know you better. I mean, what if he’s not good enough for you?”

I blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about? I’m an adult, I can decide who I go out with.”

Joel exhaled sharply, looking frustrated. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t like it. You deserve someone who really gets you. Not some random guy.”

I chuckled, thinking it was just Joel being protective, but something in the way he said it made me pause. “Why are you so obsessed with this guy I’m going out with?” I asked, my voice a little sharper than I intended.

Joel’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just shook his head. “Forget it. Have fun on your date.”

Later that night, after y/n had gone on her date, Joel sat alone in his room, his mind racing. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, about how she smiled when she talked about the guy she was meeting, and how her eyes lit up in a way they never did when they hung out together. The jealousy gnawed at him, and for the first time, he realized that maybe it wasn’t just about the guy—maybe it was about him.

He had spent years suppressing his feelings, telling himself that what he had with y/n was special enough, that their friendship was enough. But the thought of her with someone else… it felt like losing her.

When y/n finally came back from her date, she was glowing, but Joel could see something in her eyes, too—a hint of uncertainty.

“So, how was it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, though it came out sounding more anxious than he meant it to.

“It was nice,” I replied, but there was a pause before I added, “But honestly, I kept thinking about you the whole time.”

Joel’s heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat. “What?”

“I don’t know… I was just thinking about how much I wanted to talk to you, how I wanted to tell you everything,” I admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “It just wasn’t the same, you know?”

Joel’s voice cracked when he spoke. “Y/n, I… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend like I’m okay with you being with someone else. I… I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

I froze. The words hung in the air between us, as if everything had shifted in an instant.

For a long moment, I stared at him, my mind trying to process it all. And then, slowly, I walked over to him, my voice soft but steady. “I love you too, Joel. I’ve just been too afraid to admit it.”

In that moment, all the unspoken feelings, all the years of being best friends and nothing more, melted away. We stood there, both realizing that what we’d been searching for, what we’d needed all along, had been right in front of us.

And for the first time, Joel understood: sometimes, the person who knows you best is the one who’s been there all along.

My breath hitched as I took a step closer, my heart racing. Joel’s gaze met mine, searching, as if trying to confirm the same truth I’d just uncovered. Then, without a word, he reached out, his hand gently cupping my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek. My eyes fluttered shut at the warmth of his touch, the proximity intoxicating.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

I opened my eyes, meeting his with the same depth of feeling reflected in his. “Joel…” I breathed, and in that moment, everything else vanished. The years of friendship, the lingering doubts, the fears—all disappeared in an instant.

He leaned in, and as our lips met, it was like an explosion of feeling, all the pent-up affection and longing they’d kept hidden, crashing together in a perfect, fiery union. His lips were soft yet insistent, and I responded with equal fervor, pulling him closer, as though I could somehow melt into him.

We kissed as if time itself had stopped, the world spinning around us, but nothing mattered except the feeling of being in each other’s arms. It was the kind of kiss that made the heart ache, that made everything seem right in the world. And for a long, breathless moment, we forgot everything except the love we had both just realized.

[airybcby]

hi! may i request shidou ryusei with the 🍓 and🍭 <33

ofc!

a shidou ryusei strawberry lollipop :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° what am i to do ?

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — shidou ryusei x gn! reader, gn! reader, reader has strong feelings for shidou, set in high school, unrequited love :)

♡ synopsis — shidou ryusei was like a hurricane of chaos, and you weren't sure your feelings would survive the hit.

You should’ve known something was up when Shidou Ryusei's name appeared next to yours on the list of marriage simulation partners.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor, pairing you with the one person you’d spent the past few years trying not to fall for.

But it was Shidou—a human hurricane, all sharp smiles and chaotic energy. You’d been swept up in his orbit long before this simulation ever began, even though you knew better.

For someone like him, love wasn’t a slow burn. It was an explosion. And you were terrified of being caught in the aftermath.

The first day in the shared apartment was like stepping into a storm.

“Yo, partner,” Shidou drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe with a cocky grin. “You ready to play house, or what?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging your suitcase inside. “It’s only for a week, Shidou. Try not to get too comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m plenty comfortable already,” he shot back, tossing his duffel bag onto the couch. “The real question is—are you ready for this?”

He gestured vaguely between the two of you, a wicked glint in his eye.

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

Living with Shidou was...an experience.

He had no concept of personal space, always lounging too close or draping an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Relax,” he’d say whenever you stiffened under his touch. “You act like I bite or something.”

You knew better than to entertain him with a response.

But it wasn’t just the teasing.

It was the quiet moments, too—the rare glimpses of vulnerability that he never let anyone else see.

Like when he’d stay up late after dinner, staring at the city lights through the window, lost in thought. Or when he’d talk about his dream of being the best striker in the world, his voice softer than usual.

Those moments were what made it so hard to keep your feelings in check.

One evening, the two of you were tasked with planning a mock anniversary dinner for the simulation.

Shidou, naturally, insisted on making it “interesting.”

“C’mon,” he said, dragging you into the kitchen. “Let’s cook something fancy. How hard can it be?”

As it turned out, it was very hard.

An hour later, the kitchen was a disaster zone, and Shidou was laughing so hard he could barely stand.

“Okay, okay,” he said between gasps. “So maybe cooking isn’t my thing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, despite the mess.

In moments like this, it was easy to forget that this wasn’t real—that none of this meant anything to him.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself getting more and more tangled in Shidou’s web.

Every playful remark, every fleeting touch—it all felt like something more than it was.

And you hated yourself for it.

Because no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, you knew that Shidou wasn’t capable of the kind of love you were looking for.

The breaking point came during one of the program’s mandatory relationship check-ins.

The counselor asked the two of you to describe what you’d learned about each other during the simulation.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say.

But Shidou, as always, didn’t hold back.

“I’ve learned that you’re way too serious,” he said with a grin. “But that’s okay. Someone’s gotta keep me in check, right?”

The room erupted in laughter, and you forced a smile, playing along.

But deep down, his words felt like a slap in the face.

Because while you were falling for him, he was just playing a role.

On the final night of the simulation, the two of you sat on the couch, flipping through the stack of photos from your tasks.

“Not bad,” Shidou said, holding up a picture of the two of you from the anniversary dinner. “We almost look like a real couple.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your chest tightening.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hey. What’s with the long face? You’re not actually gonna miss me, are you?”

You forced a laugh, brushing it off. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the truth was, you didn’t know how to let him go.

As you packed up the next morning, Shidou leaned casually against the doorway, watching you.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice unusually soft, “you’re not half bad at this whole ‘marriage’ thing.”

You looked up at him, your heart aching. “Thanks, I guess.”

For a moment, it felt like he was going to say something else—something important.

But then he smirked, breaking the tension. “Don’t miss me too much, okay? I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Weeks later, you saw him on TV, scoring the winning goal for his team.

He grinned into the camera, all sharp edges and uncontainable energy, and you couldn’t help but smile, too.

Because even though he’d never been yours, a part of you would always belong to him.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.

he is the SILLIEST BILLY!!

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[okaysonny]

Hello, can we get a sweet, tooth aching, whipped, fluff goo with chubby reader, where goo is supporting/comforting reader bcs they being insecure abt their looks? Feel free to ignore this if u feel uncomfyyy, thank u sm🫶🏻💞

for the love of cake (and you) ╏ goo kim

ᯓ★ summary: a sweet treat never hurt anyone.

ᯓ★ details: fluff, f! reader, spoiler free.

ᯓ★ wc: 540

ᯓ★ A/N: pretty short. sorry anon, this is probably less sentimental than what you wanted 😭 that is beyond my level of capabilities...+ i didn't address reader's insecurities directly, but it's implied. still, i hope you like it!

you hear goo’s obnoxiously loud humming from down the hall, getting closer with every step. as always, he enters the room like it’s a broadway stage, presenting an elaborate box in one hand.

“voila!” he announces, popping the lid off with a flourish. inside sits the most mouth-watering cake you’ve ever seen: three layers of chocolate, whipped cream, and enough frosting to put anyone in a sugar coma. “a masterpiece for your majesty! go ahead, thank me for putting some brightness in your life”

you blink at the cake, your stomach growling despite your resolve. “uh…i’m good. thanks though”

goo blinks, caught off guard. "what do you mean?!" he pouts.

“i mean i’m not hungry!” you say quickly, waving your hands dismissively.

his lips quirk into a sly grin as he sets the box down. “not hungry?” he repeats, voice dripping with disbelief. “or… are we talking that kind of 'not hungry'? y'know, when you’re suddenly thinking about carbs and calories and—”

“no!” you cut him off, the denial coming out way too loud. “that’s not it. i just…don’t want cake right now. is that illegal?”

goo's grin turns devilish. “so, if i hand you this fork…” he holds it out dramatically. “...you’re not gonna grab it, shovel cake into your mouth, and cry happy tears?”

your face burns. “that’s not gonna happen, because i don't want it!”

he hums, tilting his head in exaggerated thought. “so, you’re telling me this has nothing to do with you trying to diet—”

“of course not!” you snap, snatching the fork from him, purely out of spite. “you’re insane goo. stop analysing everything!”

his smirk widens as you stab at the cake, cutting off a small piece and taking an aggressive bite. the sweetness hits you immediately, rich and creamy, and you have to fight the smile threatening to break through. goo, of course, notices.

“there she is” he drawls, leaning against the counter, clearly a little too smug. “see? you can thank me now. or later, when you finish the whole thing”

you glare at him through a mouthful of cake, trying to swallow before snapping back, but he beats you to it.

“oh, and by the way...” he adds casually, wiping his glasses. “...dieting is for people who actually need it. trust me, you’re not on that list”

he swipes a bit of frosting with his finger and pops it into his mouth. “so stop being weird and eat, before i finish this for you”

your chewing slows, eyes narrowing. “was that… a compliment?”

“dunno. was it?” he quips, winking before heading out the door. “either way, cake tastes better when you’re smiling. don’t forget it!”

you stare after him, stunned for a moment. you roll your eyes and scoop up another bite of cake, a small smile creeping up despite yourself.

as the door clicks shut behind him, the words replay in in his head. cake tastes better when you're smiling. don't forget it! his brow twitches, and he scowls at himself.

“fuck…that’s so corny”

but as he rounds the corner, his grin reappears. he can allow it for today, if it meant you didn’t feel like… whatever it was you were feeling before.

not that he’d ever admit it.

divider: @strangergraphics

[nerdishpursuits]

What really amuses me (or annoys, depending) is that we always manage to look for more than meets the eye, assuming the show has more depth to it, when in truth it’s lacking in so many ways.

We seem to forget what we’re dealing with here. And what that is? Is a novela, pure and simple. A Spanish one, true. But a novela just the same. And while in the beginning, for the most part, quality prevailed? It’s more and more obvious the show is becoming plagued by the inconsistencies of its genre.

We’ll never have a sensitive topic such as SA treated with the care and empathy it deserves (if anything, it encourages the message that victims are better off if they keep silent; the SA itself and the inherent misogyny? they were just background noise for the now 20+ episodes narrative of a woman suffering the consequences of looking for justice that was legally denied)

We’ll never see Fina’s recovery as it should have been treated.

We’ll never see Marta’s own trauma addressed.

I severely doubt we’ll see them healing together in a way that feels rewarding, empathetic and well thought out. We’ll get hints that they spent the night together, that they talked about their feelings and addressed the problems they’re facing. Hints and more hints. Surface level depictions that don’t really bother going beneath the surface. One of those high-speed trains that seldom stop at any station for more than a few minutes, the scenery a blur at the edge of one’s vision. Expecting more? Well, it might be asking for too much. We either enjoy what we can and as much as we can, or we desist. Plain and simple.

As for more of today’s events?

1. Just like Marta is a grown up, capable of making her own decisions? So is Tasio. For Carmen to lay all the blame at Marta’s feet is ridiculous. As is the show persisting in comparing her to Jesús, who is a de facto muderer and whose violent actions don’t have repercussions + let’s add Don Pedro to the list, whose revenge ended with the murder of the one responsible for his son’s death - I doubt there’ll be consequences as, after all, he’s a man and allowed to get away with it. For Marta though? Pandora’s box and all its blessings. May I just say succumbing to rage and helplessness one time, does not a violent person make, nor does it undo the moral tapestry of Marta’s character (for all the show loves to punish her for it).

But I’m digressing. Tasio is not a saint and to pretend otherwise is laughable (Carmen herself suspected he orchestrated the entire thing to curry favour with his father? I mean. Her trust in him is somewhere below sea level, no need to pretend otherwise. More so, she seems to forget it was Damián who paid for Tasio’s out-of-jail-card: claiming Marta’s family wouldn’t help him is borderline absurd). Marta didn’t force him to do anything, he chose to help her of his own free will. And at the end of the day? Marta never shies away from doing the hard thing: taking accountability. And she does it every single damn time, no matter how hard it is. (let’s see if Tasio ever gets there, fully). And I now find myself needing a scene where Fina defends Marta with Carmen.

2. They found the most contrived way of using Marta’s journal against her - if it is her journal, that is; for all we know it’s Marta’s calculus notebook (Santiago invading their safe space and just so happening to find it laying there? It’s not only supremely absurd but a sacrilege as well, yet another violation of their intimacy). Rather funnily, this show might be trying to preach violence is not the answer yet here we are, ascending to the next level altogether (I personally don’t see any other way to be rid of Santiago - his demise needs to be imminent and it needs to happen). Not to mention how outlandish it is that a nobody is able to get into Fina’s cell, waltz into Marta’s office or walk onto their property like so? This level of absurd is top-tier for sure.

3. The one consistent thing? Marta’s love for Fina and Fina’s love for Marta. That hasn’t changed and it won’t (it’s very much obvious Marta is nothing but irritated with Pelayo and for good reason: that man is like fungus, chemical treatment needed)

Oh well. Since the inane seems to be the way? Let’s join the circus: Santiago is moved to tears upon reading Marta’s journal and gives them his blessing, for Pelayo and Santiago it’s love at first ‘stache and they buy the property next to Marta’s so they can be felices los quatro, Jesús launches a business promoting hair-growth (dar en el calvo) and Eladio writes a book in prison (from SIcario to NOcario).

On the bright side? Flirty and Horny Fina is back tomorrow? Or so it would seem. She’s been dearly missed 😌 Furthermore? For everything that’s not being said, shown or addressed? It’s still a feat Mafin remains the healthiest relationship on the show. No doubt about it!!!

[dreamcsc]

dialogue prompts ᢉ𐭩

go back to navigation!

feel free to use when requesting (not obligated)! MORE TO BE ADDED!!

1. “When the time comes, when it happens, promise me one thing?”

2. “You think I wanted this to happen? You think *I*, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?”

3. “I never thought I'd see the day you'd stoop this low.”

4. “As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.”

5. “You can yell at me later. Just let me help you.”

6. “Why do you act like you're the only one with feelings?”

7. “This isn’t over. You always come running back and I always welcome you.”

8. “Ah, so you aren’t heartless after all.”

9. “I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

10. “You’re the worst. And you’re all I’ve got.”

11. “I'm not sure what you're doing later, but I'm hoping it's me.”

12. “I want you. All of you, and not just half-heartedly, *wholly*. And maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care.”

13. “No, I don’t hate you. We’re not there, yet.”

14. “How does it feel to not get your way?”

15. “What are you trying to achieve here?”

16. “It hurts when I realize I’ll never mean that much to someone.”

17. “Do you want to go out?… Don’t think in a twisted way.”

18. “There hasn’t been a day I didn’t think of you and it’s starting to hurt.”

19. “If I was throwing things at you in my mind, you’d feel it.”

20. “This is a very big favor you’re asking. It looks more like a sacrifice.”

21. "You're doing all you can, that's all anyone can ask of you.”

22. “Are you jealous? Want me all to yourself, do you?”

23. “Find someone else to listen to your problems.”

24. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

25. “If tomorrow comes anyway, will you be there?”

26. “Kiss me like you’ll never forget me.”

27. “Your mind is the darkest place I’ve ever been to.”

28. “Just stay. We can figure everything else out later. Right now, just *stay*.”

29. “Why do you always insist on seeing the worst in people?”

30. “I was just kind of hoping that you’d, y’know…fall in love with me.”

31. “I would say we kind of have the same goal. We just take very different approaches.”

32. “The world would be a better place with more people like you.”

33. "It's fine, shout if you need. Just let it all out.”

34. “You can sleep now. I’ll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.”

35. “You can’t have her/him and it’s killing you inside.”

36. “I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were an expert in everything.”

37. “When you touch me I feel a little less broken.”

38. “You have to promise me that you won’t fall in love with me.”

39. “I only ever thought there were two kinds of love: The kind you would kill for, and the kind you would die for…but you, my darling, you were the kind of love I would live for.”

40. “There are shooting stars in your eyes, and every time I look at you, I make a wish to be able to kiss you one last time.”

41. “Can you just…hold me? Just for tonight.”

42. “Truth is, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

43. “You have my heart. I don’t think I could get it back even if I wanted to.”

44. “Why not be angry? Anger is better than tears, better than grief, better than the guilt.”

45. “You’re most likely to steal my heart, does that count?”

46. “It's not my fault you can't handle the truth.”

47. “I don't usually believe in love/hate at first sight, but I'm willing to make an exception for you.”

48. "You're not going to believe who just walked in the door.”

49. "I'm sorry, but I can't be the person you want me to be.”

50. “I know this may be hard to believe, but I’m on your side.”

51. “Even if I could stop it, I wouldn’t.”

52. “What makes you think it was an accident?”

53. “Forgive me if I’m misreading things, but do you want to make out?”

54. “Don’t hate me for this. You would’ve done the same.”

55. “In your *very* words, ‘lying never did anyone any good.”

56. “My bad, I didn't realize that your way was the only right way to do things.”

57. “I know we've had our differences, but can we put them aside and work together on this?”

58. “I don't think I can keep up with your expectations anymore.”

59. “We both know this will be the first time and the last time we ever attempt this.”

60. “Time. It’s the one thing that you can never get back.”

61. “You put yourself in that position! That wasn’t my doing!”

62. “Don’t wish me the best, you were my best everything.”

63. “Why does it hurt so much? Why do I feel like she/he/it broken my soul?”

updated: 2025.01.05

[yesimwriting]

Happy new year! I wish you all a blessed 2025 ❤️

Now personally I don’t care the new years kiss tradition is about kissing your significant other, every single friend I love is getting love back from me when I’m drunk.

Bestie reader should absolutely give Louis the biggest platonic SMOOCH because he deserves it. He’d walk around with lipstick on his forehead or something, take a pic, save it for later to make fun of the level of readers intoxication.

a/n happy new year!! i'm totally the same about nye kisses and drinking, i get a little sappy and suddenly everyone in my life needs to know how much i mean to them lol i love this concept and it's perfect for the first fic of 2025!

also as a side note, going out/drinking with a vampire seems so perfect, ultimate scary dog privileges bc let some creepy man try anything and suddenly louis has a little late night snack <3 it sounds so freeing

----

The music's heavy pulse has aligned itself with your own, the base of it reverberating through your chest so thoroughly it might as well take the place of your heart. You can't bring yourself to dislike the feeling.

"O-kay." Your enthusiasm breaks the word into two. You let yourself lean into the feeling, into the fullness of your joy. "I think the regular vodka's stronger than the jello shots, because it's vodka not vodka-jello."

Louis presses his lips together in an attempt to keep from grinning too broadly. "That makes sense."

Your eyes narrow as you give yourself a moment to absorb the response. "It does," the words are much more contemplative than they need to be, "I'm so smart."

This time, Louis lets himself react. He laughs at the deliberateness pressed into your syllables. You're too out of it to think to mind his reaction. "You're drunk."

You straighten slightly as if that'll be enough to prove him wrong. "I'm happy."

Louis extends an arm, placing a hand on your shoulder in an instinctual attempt at keeping you steady. You're not exactly implying instability, but he's spent enough time around you like this to know it's better to be safe than sorry.

"You're drunk."

You tilt your head at the correction, blinking at him curiously. "For some people, that's the same thing."

"Yeah?" The word is much too amused.

You nod enthusiastically, shifting your weight from foot to foot in a way that leaves Louis squeezing your arm a little tighter. "Yeah." You pause, eyebrows drawing together pensively as you struggle to grasp your next thought in its entirety. "I love you. I want you to be as happy as I am."

"Okay." He lets out a partial laugh. You're a good, terribly affectionate drunk. "I'm very happy. I promise."

His assurance doesn't seem to ease you. Instead of moving onto a separate topic of conversation or attempting to escape him in order to track down another shot, you frown. You step back slightly before lifting your arm. "Here."

You're holding your wrist out in front of him so innocently Louis can almost make himself forget what you're offering. "That--that's really nice of you, but I'm okay."

You frown, staring up at him with wide, sad eyes. Louis sighs, his fingers gently bending around your forearm. He pulls your hand down towards your side before stepping closer to you. In an abundance of precaution, he angles his head towards your ear. "I had that boy that grabbed your arm earlier, remember?"

"My blood is perfectly good--blood." Great, he's stumbled onto this argument again. You're not looking to be hurt, but for whatever reason, you're convinced that Louis's refusal to consume your blood to any extent is limiting your friendship. "Seriously, a doctor has never struggled to find my veins."

The defense is slurred and devoid of serious logic. Still, such a consistent mentioning of something he's always trying to ignore...always trying to forget makes it difficult to focus on anything else. The blood moving beneath your skin is warm against his palms, and it--the scent of it...

It is possible to stop. Some know how to resist, how to take just enough to feel something without bringing a life to its end. Lestat had possessed that kind of control, had used it when creating Claudia.

The thought leaves him more somber than he's prepared to be. Even if he could sense that kind of strength in himself, he--he couldn't use you in that way. Introducing you to his world at all was a cruel enough act on its own, he doesn't need to taint you further.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling before pulling away slightly. He lifts your arm slowly, his thumb brushing against your wrist's pulse point. You watch him silently as he brings your inner forearm to his mouth. He presses his lips against your skin. "It's not you."

You're quiet for a second, something oddly sober briefly flickering behind your gaze. "I know," you relent slowly, "On some level, I know."

You look at him, then, with a careful awareness that often leaves him feeling like you're the one capable of looking into his mind. "But it better not be because you think your existence is some terrible burden you're inflicting onto me."

It's a warning he's used to hearing. His lips part, but before he can think of a response, the crowd around you shifts. A variety of voices blend together as they start to count, "...Ten...nine...."

"New years!" You beam, reaching for Louis's hand as you turn towards the others.

The countdown continues, the numbers oddly in sync for a bar so full of drunk individuals. The clock hits midnight, the crowd erupts into cheers.

You grin, straightening fully as you lean towards him. Before Louis can think to ask about what you're doing, you press your lips against his cheek. He can feel the residue of your lipgloss against his skin, but he can't bring himself to mind it. This isn't the first time you've gotten a little affectionate while drunk, but normally there's some warning. "What was that for?"

You shrug innocently, "New Years kiss."

You let go of him fully, halfheartedly pushing his arm off your shoulder as you start moving away from him. "Where are you going?"

"I want another shot." The response is absentmindedly thrown over your shoulder, like Louis should have had the foresight to follow you.

A part of him is glad that your back is to him. This way, he can grin openly without encouraging your behavior. "Slow down--you're in heels."

You turn at that, flashing your middle finger before continuing forward. Oh, you're not going to get the hear end of this tomorrow.

[dilf-din]

I Don’t Wanna Get Used to Not Having You Around

Frank Castle X f!reader for @xxdrixx

A gift for you my sweet friend!! Please enjoy a little fake dating Frank fic I cooked up!! Title is from In the Heights by Knox Hamilton

WC: 4100

Warnings: none, fake dating, slight sugar daddy vibes if you squint, no beta if you see a typo no you didn’t

Frank slipped into his usual haunt, black hood up and boot speckled with rain. Incessant drizzles like this one meant a thinner crowd than usual. Of course, he did a quick scan of the room from the wide window before he entered. A group of college aged guys gathered around the pool table, three middle aged men at the far end of the bar watching the giants play, and a girl at the opposite end hunched over a drink he couldn’t make out. Once he deduced there were no threats, he entered quietly, stamping his feet on the crooked mat to rid himself of any larger raindrops and pushing it straight with the toe of his boot before taking a seat on one of the barstools with frayed seams and stuffing spilling out.

Two stars on yelp meant cheap drinks and sparse evenings. Perfect for someone like him.

He flagged down the bartender for a beer and shrugged his hood down. A bruise on his cheek was fading to a sickly green, but he was otherwise free of wounds which was a rarity.

Frank fished a book from his inner jacket pocket and noticed the girl two seats down from him more clearly now. Watery eyes, a pile of disintegrating tissues in her pockets that she had been using to dry the stream of tears. Chipped nail polish that had clearly been picked at and a phone that she incessantly checked for a message that didn’t seem to be coming.

For some reason, he was overcome with pity for this stranger.

He cleared his throat, “If the drink’s that bad, I can buy ya another one.”

You tensed slightly at his voice and looked to see who he was talking to before realizing it was you.

“Oh,” you laughed, a small one but a real one. “No, this is the only thing that’s helping.”

Frank nodded and cracked his book open, unable to parse if he should further the conversation.

He closed his book just as quickly as he had opened it, “Shitty guy?”

“The shittiest,” you instantly responded, turning slightly on the stool to face him.

The bartender set Frank’s beer down and he gave a quiet, “Thank you,” accompanied by a nod.

“My ex is engaged, to a girl I hate,” you drew out the H sound incredulously. “We went to the same college and she was always weirdly competitive with me, going for the same opportunities, stealing my ideas and trying to outdo me. We even applied for the same job at the end, and she got it instead of me. And he fed me some bullshit about us being incompatible. I feel like I got traded in for the better model,” your voice wavered. You picked up your drink and drained the second half in one gulp.

“That’s,” Frank paused, “Profoundly shitty.”

“They invited me to their engagement party,” you scoffed, pushing your phone away from you.

“Yikes,” Frank scratched the back of his head.

“And I’m still at the same shitty job living in the same shitty apartment. No date. Nothing nice to wear, no way to pretend like I’m a fraction as okay as them,” you signaled to the bartender for a refill.

“You might want it straight from the bottle,” Frank whispered, making a slight gesture towards their kitchen and wordlessly grimacing.

“Gross,” you wrinkled your nose, “Thanks for the tip.”

“When’s the party?”

“Tomorrow,” you groaned and laid your head on the cool tile of the bar before quickly retracting from the sticky residue you were met with.

“How did I never notice how bad this place is?” you laughed.

“It’s easy to ignore when you’re trying to forget everything else.”

“Who are you trying to forget?” you asked softly, resting your chin against your hands and really taking him in for the first time.

A strong jaw and nose, broad shoulders, neat hair and square posture. You would’ve guessed ex-military even before you eyed the dog tags around his neck with what looked to be a wedding ring.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line”, you apologized quickly.

He shrugged it off, “Nah, you’re just making conversation with the jackass who hit you up at the bar. I’m the one who didn’t mind my business.”

“Well I don’t think you’re a jackass.”

“You’d be in the minority then,” he scoffed a laugh and took a swig of his beer.

A short silence hung in the air between you. The clack of pool balls, loud complaints from the men watching football, the roar of the heater in the corner. Your head swam a little under the low lights as you stared at the man beside you. Feeling bold, you slid over to another stool until only one sat between you.

“I’m Frank,” he smiled.

Fuck. He was tanked.

While the two of you made further conversation, Frank took in everything about you. The shine of your eyes, the lilt of your laugh, the way your hair fell across your face and how badly he wanted to brush it behind your ear so it no longer obscured his view of you.

For hours the two of you chatted and drank. At some point, Frank scooted to the stool next to yours until your shoulders were flush against each other.

He leaned in to whisper to you, observations and wisecracks about the other bar patrons. You could feel the stubble on his cheek against your earlobe and his breath falling on your cheek, clouding your senses and making you forget that you had chosen that bar to be alone and cry tonight.

“I have a stupid idea,” he said, angling his body towards yours and you missed the contact of his shoulder.

“I love stupid ideas,” you grinned.

“Let me take you to that party tomorrow. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend. We can show them what they’re missing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you laughed, then paused to contemplate.

Frank knew this was a bad idea. That if you said yes, he’d be in too deep. He was already under your spell and you weren’t even trying to be anything but an unguarded, unfiltered version of yourself.

“You don’t have to do that. Keeping me company tonight means I’m already in your debt. I don’t like when the score is that uneven.”

“On the contrary, you kept a lonely guy like me company tonight, so I actually owe you.”

You laughed and looked down, really starting to consider his offer.

“You would do that?”

“If there’s anything I love, it’s giving people hell. Having a beautiful girl on my arm is just a bonus.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you nodded.

The two of you exchanged contact info, when and where he should pick you up, and parted ways, but not before he insisted on walking you home. You could tell he wasn’t a creep, and that his insistence came from a place of concern and protection. You looked at the ring hanging from his neck, and allowed him to accompany you. Something told you he was carrying some regret about not being able to protect someone once. Plus he had already punched your address into the contact in his phone, so it’s not like seeing it in person put you at any greater risk. If anything, you did feel safe walking next to him. You noticed the way his eyes scanned every alley and intersection. Though you weren’t holding hands, you felt the urge to cling to him as he guided you through the rainy night.

“This is me,” you announced at the foot of a staircase leading to a well lit brick building. “I’m that one right there,” you pointed to the corner window on the third floor.

“I’ll uh, see you tomorrow,” he shifted on his heels and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Good night, Frank,” you smiled, casting one last look over your shoulder at the mysterious man before unlocking the door to let yourself in.

Frank lingered on the sidewalk, counting the seconds until he saw the light in your window flip on. He disappeared before you could check the pavement to see him still standing there.

———

You woke the morning to splitting headache and two texts from Frank.

“Good morning. Drink some water before you do anything.”

“Heard you mention you didn’t have anything to wear. Get yourself something nice.”

Attached to the second message was an apple payment for $300.

You responded immediately.

“Frank this is ridiculous. I can’t take this money from you.”

Three dots as he immediately started typing his response.

“Consider it a thank you. Been a long time since I had a night as nice as last night.”

“Well thank you back.”

“See you at 7”

You dropped your phone to your chest and stared at the ceiling. What have you gotten yourself into.

A gurgling growl from your stomach coaxed you out of bed to assemble any kind of breakfast to sop up this hangover, accompanied by a tall glass of water, doctor’s orders.

After breakfast, you showered to get the smell of last night out of your hair. When you gathered your laundry to toss in the washing machine, you caught of whiff of Frank’s cologne on your hoodie, and fished it out. For some reason, you wanted to save that little memory, and laid it across the foot of your bed while you dressed to get ready for your shopping excursion.

It was windy this week, and your eyes stung as you stepped into the brisk air. You drew your scarf a little higher up and trekked into town. There was a department store not too far from where you lived, so you decided to try there and hope for the best.

The store was almost empty, save for a few ladies holding up sweaters to their bodies to check the length of the sleeves before placing them back on the rack.

Nothing stood out to you until you found a black velvet mini dress. It had a high neck and long sleeves, and the fabric slightly sparkled in the right light. On the way to the dressing room, you spotted a pair of knee high boots cut from the same fabric. There was one pair left in your size that you grabbed to try on as well.

It fit like a glove. The expanse of your thigh that peeked out between the boots and the bottom of the dress made you look elongated and sexy.

“Not too bad,” you murmured, doing a spin to admire your figure from every angle. With a few accessories and your hair pulled back into a bun, this would do quite nicely.

On your way to the register, you stopped to pick a pair of dangly gold earrings.

There was still a good bit of daylight left before Frank was supposed to pick you up, and you found yourself feeling antsy.

“Found a dress. Want to see?”

“I’ll wait till tonight. Bet you look beautiful.”

Another wave of butterflies.

“Are you doing anything?”

“Negative.”

“Early dinner?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be there at 5.”

Though it was still early afternoon, at least you shaved a few hours off until you could see him again. You found yourself strangely looking forward to the whole evening.

Popping in your headphones, you decided to clean your apartment. You danced from room to room mopping the floors and dusting the corners. You switched your laundry to the dryer and decided to toss in your sheets while you had the momentum.

At the end of your cleaning stint, it was nearing 3:30, and you decided you could start getting ready.

You brushed your teeth, applied simple makeup, and plucked a few stray hairs while an audiobook droned on in the background. Pulling on the dress once again, you were in love with the way it hugged your body, feeling a confidence you had been missing. A small jewelry box sat on your cluttered vanity holding not much besides a few pieces your mother had given you.

Carefully, you fished out the tennis bracelet and matching necklace that would perfectly complement the earrings you had picked up today. The last thing to do was pull your hair into a loose bun at the base of your neck. You pulled a few strands out to frame your face, and heard the buzzer to your apartment.

“You’re early,” you teased.

“Need me to walk around the block and come back?”

Without answering, you buzzed him in.

Suddenly, the butterflies were back. You did a once over in the mirror and sprayed on your perfume right when you heard a gentle knock at your door.

Without looking through the peephole, you unlatched the door to let Frank inside.

He smiled and presented a bouquet of flowers to you.

“Well hello,” you tried to conceal the heat that was rising to your face.

“My ma told me to always bring a lady flowers,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t an incredibly sweet gesture for two near strangers.

“And mine taught me to send thank you notes, so expect one this week,” you smiled turning to get them in a vase before the two of you left for the evening.

Angel, your small white cat mewled pitifully at Frank who bent down to scratch behind her ears.

You filled a vase with water and set the bouquet into it, carefully rearranging a few stems. It was a beautiful palette of whites and oranges.

“Do you still need a minute?”

“I just need my boots and coat,” you replied, rounding the corner out of the kitchen and skidding by him in mismatched ankle socks that he found incredibly endearing.

You sat on the edge of the overstuffed ottoman by the chair at the door and pulled the boots up your long legs, zipping them and brushing a bit of lint off of them. Frank looked away, turning to pretend to admire your wall art instead.

“What do you think?” You asked nervously fidgeting with the hem.

“I think you look like a million bucks,” he said quietly. He held his hand out for you to grab and do a little spin.

“Try three hundred,” you winked and he cracked a nervous laugh. Moving his hand up to run it over his chin and try to conceal his smitten smile.

“I think you look good enough to make that doofus see he’s missing out.”

“You clean up nice yourself,” you pulled your long black coat out of the closet and Frank wordlessly held it open for you to slip your arms into.

Frank was also in all black, sporting a button down and tie with jeans with some chelsea boots that looked new, or like something he only pulled out for special occasions. On top of it all he had a leather jacket that fit him like a glove.

“We’re so in sync we matched. We already have that couple telepathy,” you joked, grabbing your bag and dropping your phone in next to your keys. “Bye, Angel,” you cooed to your cat, leaning down to offer your nose that she gently pressed her own into.

Christ that was cute.

“I got us a table at a place close to the party,” he explained on the way down to his truck.

“You’re quite the planner,” you said sounding impressed.

“Something like that that,” he mumbled, closing your door behind you and making his way to the driver’s seat.

Though old, he kept his truck in perfect condition. There was an air freshener shaped like a tree hanging from the mirror, the windshield was spotless, and the floor mats even looked recently vacuumed. The radio played classic rock low through the speakers as you made light conversation on the way to the restaurant. You kept reminding yourself this wasn’t a real date. This was all just part of the act. You might not even see him after tonight, so why were you so nervous?

Frank turned on the charm over dinner, bantering with the waitstaff and ordering expensive wine for you to share. You started to wonder where he got this seemingly never ending supply of money and why he was spending it on you of all people. He was polite, paid cash, left generous tips. The thought of him being in the mob crossed your mind.

Frank checked the watch on his wrist, “It’s almost showtime. You need another minute?”

You finished off the glass of wine in front of you and exhaled, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Frank helped you into your jacket once more and offered you a firm hand to hold as you stepped over the threshold of the restaurant. His manners also never seemed to be in short supply. You bet to everyone else, you looked like a normal couple on a normal night out, not two strangers on a mission to scorn your ex. It was fun to pretend that this was for real.

You were quiet on the drive to the party, absentmindedly picking at what remained of your nail polish and wishing you had thought to repaint your nails.

Frank could sense your nerves.

“Just say the word and we can go.”

You looked over to meet his intense gaze.

“I can tell this is tearin’ ya up. So if you want to forget this whole thing, we can leave now. I’m sorry I even suggested it.”

“No, no I think this will be good for me. I need to face them. Thank you though,” you smiled sincerely.

Frank parked a few blocks down. He pulled the key from the ignition and exhaled.

“Ready when you are.”

“Let’s get it over with,” you sighed, reaching down for your purse.

Frank rushed out to open your door before you could even think about touching it.

“My lady,” he smiled charmingly as he offered you an arm down.

“Frankie, you’re too good to me,” you leaned against his arm, and he felt his throat tighten at your closeness.

“Their names are Beck and Dawn,” you whispered as you made your way to their stairs.

“Which is which?” He asked in earnest.

You tried to conceal a snicker as you let yourself in.

The halls were crowded with a number of faces you didn’t recognize and a few you did. Old classmates and colleagues, friends of Beck’s.

Less than a minute in and you already felt like you were suffocating.

You fished a card out of your purse and dropped it on a table that seemed to be collecting gifts and well wishes.

“Let’s get this over with,” you turned your head up to whisper to him.

Frank helped you out of your jacket and laid it next to his on a chair, then rested his hand on the small of your back. You tried to not think about the warmth of his skin and the width of his palm as you headed into the kitchen, exchanging a few polite greetings.

“They’re over there, but I want them to come to us,” you leaned up to whisper again.

Frank turned into you and nuzzled his nose against yours in a way that made you dizzy.

“She’s looking at us,” he whispered against your earlobe. His breath was hot on your neck, and for a second you thought about turning around and shoving your tongue down his throat to really sell it.

Frank’s hands lighted on your hips and he leaned in to whisper again, “You look sexy as hell. Don doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Dawn is the girl,” you hissed through a giggle.

“I told you I can’t tell the difference,” he laughed genuinely and both of your faces were lit up as Dawn and Beck made their way to you.

“Hey you!” Beck drew you into an awkward side hug.

“We didn’t think you would show,” Dawn said with a hint of true shock in her voice.

“Oh we were already in the neighborhood so we figured we might as well,” you shrugged. “This is Frank,” you smiled with a hand pressed to his side as the other was wrapped around his back.

Frank gave Beck a firm handshake, firmer than he should have but he couldn’t resist. When Beck drew his hand back and shook it out he asked, “Are you military, Frank?”

“Retired marine.”

“Oh hey, semper fi.”

Frank stared at him blankly. He could tell from everything about this goon that he had never served anything but overpriced coffee.

“Funny how life works out, huh?” Dawn forced a smile as she caressed Beck’s lacking bicep. Frank tried and failed to not feel incredibly superior to both of them.

“Yeah I’d say we both found people who deserve us,” you volleyed back.

Frank’s grip on your waist tightened in a possessive way that flooded you with heat as he and Beck seemed to be in a silent stare down.

Feeling bold you decided to say one more thing, “I hope you drive each other crazy. You truly deserve it.”

Beck started to say something, but you took long strides to the exit, leaving him behind once and for all. Frank shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if he had nothing else to add, following you back to the car.

Tomorrow they would open a card addressed to them congratulating Dawn on once again stealing something that belonged to you.

In your rush to leave, you left your jacket and were met with an unpleasant gust of wind.

Frank followed behind you a moment later, holding your jacket open to step into once again.

“My savior,” you murmured. Your heart was still pounding as nearly a decade of feeling looked over and plotted against settled in your throat. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks before you had a chance to convince them not to.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” Frank said softly, swiping the tears away with rough knuckles.

You stood on the stoop trying to compose yourself, and buried your face in Frank’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you without hesitation and settled his feet to become a wall against the biting wind.

“Not that I mind holding ya, but do you wanna go somewhere else away from these assholes?”

“Yes please,” you sniffed, following him back to his truck.

Once you had settled into the cab, Frank turned the heat on and adjusted the vents so you could warm your fingers beneath them.

“I’m sorry,” you started.

Frank scoffed as he prepared to chastise you.

“Not for crying, for bringing you here. I have too much baggage with both of them. It wasn’t fair to rope a stranger into all this.”

You met his gaze with a fresh wave of tears crowding your eyes.

“Couple things, sweetheart. One, you didn’t drag me anywhere. I’m not the kind of guy who does things I don’t want to do. And second, you don’t have to apologize. We’ve all got baggage. Some of us carry it with us everywhere,” he cleared his throat. “And third, I know it’s been a weird coupla days, but I’d love to not be strangers when this is all said and done.”

You searched his face and only saw things you had always longed for: patience, sincerity, adoration.

“I can tell you feel broken right now, but it won’t always feel that way. Forget those jokers. They don’t know what they’re missing. I think I walked out with the prize tonight.”

Frank licked his lips nervously and cast his eyes downward. It wasn’t like him to be so bold, but he had learned long ago that hesitating means you lose out on the best stuff life could give you.

You scooted closer to him, leaving a small space like you had in the bar. Frank scooted closer to you and closed the gap. His hands on your neck were rough and warm as he pulled you into a kiss.

He kissed like a man who had known both love and loss, passion and regret. It was tender, holy, all consuming.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since yesterday,” he laughed against your mouth, stealing another quick kiss.

“I promise I’ll never make you wait 24 hours again,” you laughed back.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he drew his hands back and started pressing buttons on his watch.

“What are you doing?”

“Settin’ a timer,” he smiled, not meeting your eyes as he moved the small dials with his large fingers.

[cap-ironman]

2024 Cap-Iron Man Exchange Gifts unveiled on Jan 5

It’s the final day of reveals! Each day we will be revealing gifts created by 2024 Cap-Iron Man Holiday Exchange and Community Gifts event participants. The gifts will remain anonymous until January 7, giving everyone a chance to enjoy the works and guess the identities of creators. (Remember, if you've got a work in the collection, please remain anonymous until after creator reveals!)

Here are today’s gifts!

★ Ambrosia Recovery for Cap Iron Man Community (Marvel's Avengers video game, 200 words)

After rescuing Steve from the Ambrosia, Tony warms Steve up with a nice bath.

★ And Everywhere I See Love for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 2000 words)

Even the most observant can miss what is before him day after day…

★ at least a foot of snow on the ground for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 470 Words)

Steve and Tony get snowed in at the ski resort. Time for a leisurely day off.

★ Dear Fellow Traveler for Cap Iron Man Community (Marvel, 12363 words)

For the prompt: Fellow Traveler AU

★ A Fluffy, Fuzzy Christmas for Cap Iron Man Community (Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, 500 words)

Steve's cursed with lycanthropy over the Christmas period. Tony, as ever, is there to (try to) support Steve.

★ For Real for gryvon (MCU, 5409 words)

It all starts with a note on the noticeboard of Steve's building on Monday. I’m desperate. I’ll do anything—yes, you read it right, ANYTHING—if you give me a place to stay for the next three weeks until the end of the semester. I’m on the verge of a breakthrough with my project and don’t have the time, funding, or the brain space required for finding a place and living off campus. If your name is not Tiberius fucking Stone, send me a text and I’ll respond as soon as I’m out of my current coding stint. Steve reads the note three times with wide eyes and he’s sure his mouth is hanging open as he reaches for the piece of paper and pulls it off the board.

★ The Forest Retreat] for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 700 words)

The Avengers have to go into hiding again, Tony is not happy...

★ Have been for years for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 529 words)

Steve and Tony wake up married. Now what?

★ I'll Take Care Of You for Cap Iron Man Community (Marvel Adventures: Avengers, 4638 words)

steve has a bad day. tony wants to make him feel better. what actually makes steve feel better is looking after tony. featuring: a microwave recipe, steve being uninvited from a trip to the movies, an iron man picture book, surprise batroc, gray sweatpants, and a lot of fluff.

★ Impossibility for Cap Iron Man Community (Marvel 6160, 2949 words)

Steve can't get sick so why it does he have hanahaki? He's not in love with anyone so no one needs to know that he's coughing up flowers.

★ Just Talk To Him!!! for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 200 words)

Bucky tries to get Steve to finally talk to that human he has a crush on.

★ Let It Snow for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 3459 words)

For the prompt: trapped in a snowstorm, forced proximity

★ Matchmaking Always Requires a PowerPoint Presentation for Teyan (MCU, 1505 words)

Clint Barton’s Guide to Being a matchmaker featuring Powerpoint presentations, broken coffee mugs, and (supposedly) oblivious teammates.

★ meet me halfway for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 3561 words)

Tony and Steve are forced to share a tent during an Avengers camping trip, much to Tony's chagrin. It brings back memories of the last time they shared a bed over a decade ago at Clint's farm that he'd very much like to forget—such as that almost kiss they never talked about.

★ My Teeth Will Only Cut Your Lips, My Dear for Cap Iron Man Community (616, 4500 words)

The wolf only wants to protect his mate. Naturally, that means hunting down the creature who took him away.

★ The Mystery of Professor Rogers' Holiday Joy for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 1216 words)

MJ and her friends are curious about their art Professor Steve Rogers and his strained relationship with Mister T.

★ Not Like This for watermelonwarehouse (MCU, 8277 words)

Steve and Tony are captured while the Avengers are hitting a Hydra base in the aftermath of the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. The kidnappers try to coerce Tony into helping them recreate the Super Soldier Serum using Steve's blood, but when he refuses, they think of another way to destroy Steve and Tony, and with them the Avengers. The success of their plan is only threatened by the fact that Steve and Tony have been secretly in love with each other.

★ on that ship he had a cow for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 9909 words)

A mission monitoring a farm on a site where recurring alien abductions have been reported goes wrong, landing Steve and Tony aboard a very strange spaceship where everything is not as it seems. For one: Steve seems to be a humanoid cow, now, and Tony's the only farmer who knows how to properly milk the poor guy.

★ Rotgut for tinystark616 (616, 3002 words)

“I had the best of intentions and so little experience. I was just trying to make a difference, as best I could. And even today, looking back on it all, I don't know if it was the right choice.” —Tony Stark in Iron Man Vol. 3 #1

★ A Solid Welcome Home for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 400 words)

Tony comes home to Steve's Brooklyn apartment.

★ Shadow of Stark for Cap Iron Man Community (1872, 400 words)

Things have been difficult for Tony after the Sheriff's death. Particularly his relationship with the townspeople.

★ Slip That Past Me Again? for Cap Iron Man Community (MCU, 500 words)

Howard hears some upsetting information regarding his son's relationship and takes action to find out the truth.

★ 10 Signs Your Ship is Real for Cap Iron Man Community (Marvel's Avengers video game, 1127 words)

Kamala secretly ships stony, but of course she knows they're not really together...are they?

★ 21st Century Captain for Cap Iron Man Community (6160 Ults, 500 words)

Steve's just finished catching up on all that he'd missed of history. Tony rushes over to be by his side.

To check out all of this year’s gifts (so far!), head over to the 2024 Captain America/Iron Man Holiday Exchange AO3 Collection.

When your gift is revealed, please be sure to comment and thank your gifter!

If you’re the creator of a gift that’s now been revealed, you can reply to any comments and stay anonymous — AO3 will automatically show you as "Anonymous Author" until the creator reveals.

Finally, you may want to change the publication date of your work to today’s date so that it shows up at the top of AO3's feeds. AO3’s guide is available here and we have a more detailed version here.

Happy holidays, and we hope you enjoy all of the revealed works!

♥ Your 2024 Cap-Iron Man Holiday Exchange and Community Gifts mods

[inkshine]

Thanks for the tag! Sorry for taking forever to respond, life can get pretty hectic around the start of the new year for me.

I'm doing Ursa from Shadow's Hidden Blade for this one!

1.) What location is always considered a home to you?

Anywhere my friends are. Being a circus performer means constantly moving, so you learn to see your fellow performers as more of a home than any physical location (for better or worse…).

2.) Do you prefer travelling with company or alone?

I’m used to traveling with company, I don’t think I’ve ever traveled a long distance alone. I think I would have to try traveling independently more before I made any real judgments about which I preferred. 

3.) How many landmarks in your world have you visited? Were they fun? Horrifying? A place to remember?

I’ve seen a lot of landmarks, that tends to happen when your circus is constantly stopping in prosperous or touristy destinations. Some landmarks were just kind of…there, they were just buildings or statues that didn’t particularly stand out to me. Others were more intriguing or historically significant, and who could forget needing to travel through a forest whose environment was corrupted by the tears and sobs of a god? That was particularly memorable, and more than a little horrifying!

✨🌺 Writing Share and Questionnaire Tag 🌺✨

Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for tagging me! If you’ve done so recently, know that I appreciate you and was probably not alerted (sorry if I missed any!) HOWEVER, I did catch a questionnaire tag here from @willtheweaver ! Thank you for the tag! 💛✨

I’ve written some progress from ITROG, and I’d figure I’ll share a little more of Tyrell’s personality through these questions. Stick around for a story snippet at the end 💫

My questions:

1. What would it take for you to forgive someone who wronged you?

Tyrell: (snorts in a sneer) Hel if I know. Usually if someone crosses me, they’re not comin’ back into my good graces anytime soon.

2. You are given the chance to resurrect someone you loved for 24 hours. Would you do it?

Tyrell: Já, of course I would! Who wouldn’t? Odin’s blessing, I’d keep móðir alive a lot longer if I had the chance.

3. What is the one job you don’t want?

Tyrell: Probably being second in command to a man like Bartok….ugh, nei. Someone with a stick shoved that far up their own ass would be tastin’ tree bark on their tonsils. Nei, þǫkk.

And speaking of Bartok, here is a bonus writing share from ITROG! ✨

On the route to the food storage, Bartok snickered over his shoulder: “What’s wrong with yer sonr? Did he have another faint?”

“That’s none of your business.” Stefan answered curtly.

The warrior whistled through his teeth. “Ah, it’s a shame….you aren’t thinking of enlisting him in the Ursyne Trials, are ya’?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Ya’ can’t be serious, Chief.” Bartok scoffed. “Imagine: Tyrell climbs up Feldin’s Peak, and halfway his heart gives out….”

“…..” Stefan ground his teeth in silent seething.

“…..Or when he has to duck under the icy wake. If the cold isn’t enough to shock his system to shutdown, the faint’ll due him to drown 30 deep until his skin’s the color of a Frost Jötunn—”

“—Enough, Bartok! Must you be so descriptive about my SON?!” The viking chief lashed out. “And keep those Hel-forsaken demons off of your lips before I sew them shut with runic thread.”

A nervous laugh crested Bartok’s voice “My apologies, chief. I don’t mean to rattle you. Only meant to warn….” He shrugged in nonchalance. “…..I’d be rightfully worried, though. These trials are no joke.”

“I know. They’re to train warriors—the strongest to lead the Bear Clan…..” Stefan nodded in conviction. “…..of which my son shows heart.”

@gioiaalbanoart and @wyked-ao3 , you’re gonna need the shovel for THIS one 😂

Thank you everyone! If you’ve previously tagged me, make sure to poke me twice—Tumblr notifications can be hit or miss sometimes, and I love seeing what everyone’s working on! ✨

Speaking of tagging, let me tag the following (no pressure, join if you wish ✨): @wyked-ao3 , @gioiaalbanoart , @jev-urisk , @tragedycoded , @autism-purgatory , @finickyfelix , @theink-stainedfolk , @drchenquill , @deanwax , @the-inkwell-variable , @mysticstarlightduck , @illarian-rambling , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @ominous-feychild , @mrbexwrites , @sharkblizzardblogs , @agirlandherquill , @rhikasa , @houseplantblank , @justabigoldnerd , @justanotherchangeling , @pippinoftheshire , @noxxytocin , @alinacapellabooks , @seastarblue , @talesofsorrowandofruin , @theaistired , @paeliae-occasionally , @aurumni-writes , @smellyrottentrees , @lavender-gloom , @cowboybrunch , @aziz-reads , @dyrewrites , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @theeccentricraven , @birdycage , @nczaversnick , @honeybewrites , @somethingclevermahogony , @topazadine , +open for whoever else wishes to join! ✨

Your questions for your OCs (in cut/paste format) 👀✨

1.) What location is always considered a home to you? 2.) Do you enjoy traveling with company, or alone? 3.) How many landmarks in your world have you visited? Were they fun? Horrifying? A place to remember?

Thank you all again! I’m excited to pick up ITROG and (hopefully) answer more questions and games about the story! Have a great week everyone, and Happy New Year! 🎊✨

[edge-oftheworld]

when I was in high school there was a tendency whenever there was an attractive boy to simply fan over him. in a way that talked over everything he might say for himself and created a narrative that completely ignored, the fact in some cases, that he was really struggling—or if he was struggling, to pin all the blame on the girl he’s dating and completely ignore the thousands of other factors (no it can’t be mental illness or unaccommodated disability or systemic abuse or exploitation and if he is in an abusive relationship we won’t ever consider the factors that put him at risk for that)

and I’m not saying this fandom is like that. I get the need for privacy around some things and how in public conversations sometimes it’s a lot more respectful to stick to the positives (everyone who does that, I admire you) or even the struggles that are talked about publicly, show respect by not reading too far into them. there’s a time and place for that. but sometimes I feel like our only options are shitty and ableist gossip or totally ignoring the systemic and structural issues we know exist in something like the music industry until someone dies and then we’re looking for someone to blame. friends, there is a point where the respectful thing is to listen to what someone says and come together to make things better. and you can learn how to have that conversation respectfully. please do

[fallencelsetial]

Well. They wanted to talk about….nothing…..they’ve made it clear that they want nothing to do with all of my messy bits. And they are not willing to help……it’s a 3rd option that I never considered.

Just a “we don’t care.” No anger. No hatred. Just apathy.

I don’t know how I feel about this.

I’m relieved there was no emotional explosion.

But there’s also no conclusion.

I’m not going to get the help I need ever. It’s just still gonna be me and myself. Just me and myself trying to live as best we can.

[pluvionpc]

added an image description in the alt text! sorry that took so long

The Kiss by Francesco Hayez, 1859

[original + sketch under the cut]

i thought this piece was extremely fitting for these two (particularly a lot of its little details and the distinct shape of the figures against one another), and i have a lot of feelings about them recently, so this is the result