#we need to put this question to rest for once and all

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct Yandere TWST x Fem Reader Monster AU pt 40

(Trein is a Sphinx and as a Sphinx he loves riddles, knowledge, and history. He has already heard most riddles in Twisted Wonderland, so the Human sharing riddles with him is rather welcome and entertaining to him. He walks with a permanent limp on one of his back legs, as it was maimed by the Undying Ursus Major- ancestor to all Ursus Minor and nigh unkillable giant bear- while protecting his students. He almost lost the leg- and probably should have had it amputated- but now he walks with a permanent limp and is permanently lame on that leg. He does not regret saving his students.)

Warnings: inky issues, yandere, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, manipulative behavior, two mature platonic yanderes having a chat, blot potion, injury, jealousy/envy, MC needs a nap/break, gross imagery, the needs of the many vs the needs of the few, perceived violence, abuse (not towards reader), blood,

~~~~~~~~

A solemn Shinigami stood, looking out over the sleeping dorm that held his greatest weakness and his greatest strength within. Even is own descendants were resting- for once- and he had tucked them in himself so their night would not be disturbed. Centuries spent in blinding agony, suffering the full weight of his withdrawal and certain he would die in that pain as well.

Having the source of his agony and the source of his drug of choice so close by was soothing to the great and ancient man. The veil of agony lifted and the soft voice of that Human- trusting and kind- acted as a balm for the ragged pain that consumed him so deeply. He would be lying if he said he didn't wish to permanently move into the run-down dorm to keep that Human safe and protected by his own strength.

Still, he was curious to why the Human was so resistant to blot and part of him wanted to see how a full Overblot could be soothed by the Human in question. He didn't wish to put the Human in harms way, nor did he wish to put any of the students through something as damaging as an Overblot just to soothe his curiosity. Perhaps the continued research and studying would prove fruitful.

"You sure are up late."

The elder was somewhat startled by the sudden voice, turning quickly to see the Human-esque shape of the Yeti that had been hired to aid the Human. Though his role was to teach all the students on paper, his role as a protector and teacher to the Human came first. Still, it spoke volumes to his ability to sneak up on the old Shinigami without being noticed.

"Shinigami don't sleep often, and sleep less the older we get."

"Guess that explains it."

The Yeti stood next to the Shinigami, looking at the quiet and still dorm that seemed to loom in the darkness. With the blanket of night came the threat of ill-intended poachers and all manner of beast drawn to the soft Human everyone craved on a primal level. Perhaps it was the Shinigami's mind dulling with his ancient age, but the Yeti was a comfort as a second pair of eyes watching the dorm and protecting the treasure within.

"I had assumed Yeti to be diurnal, is that not the case with you?"

"My sleep schedule has been messed up for a while. Most Ferals and Poachers prefer to mobilize at night, but I needed the information of those awake during the day to find the wretched hives they claimed as home."

"Your reputation precedes you. I hear you have brought down many a Feral in your time."

"I've heard the same about you. I've even heard that you've gone against the Beast more than a handful of times. Most can't even face it once without it costing their lives."

The elder frowned at this, knowing the ancient and cataclysmic threat he spoke of. A beast twisted into the form of a bear that slept deep in the bowels of Sage Island's mines, fathering equally cursed young that wandered deathless through the land. It was a creature that destroyed everything in its endless search for death.

"Yes, that beast is best to remain unbothered. Even one such as yourself would fall before it."

"I don't doubt that. If you struggled against it, I have no chance."

A comfortable silence passed between the two as the dorm seemed to remain quiet and those within continued to slumber. Though the Shinigami knew more than he would ever let on, it was nice to speak with someone that descended from the same branch as Humans. For the Yeti, he was humbled to speak so casually with the ancient being that had seen ages in his long and storied life.

"I have a question of sorts for you, Lord Hades."

"Yes, child?"

"Humans aren't as magicless as we believe, are they?"

"They cannot wield magic, so are considered magicless."

"But they impact others in a different- almost magical- way, correct?"

"... That is correct. In my studies of their kind, Humans are... Addictive. Being around them even for a short time forms an addiction. Depending on how that addiction is 'fed' determines how it takes hold of a magical being's mind."

"So, for argument's sake, touching them makes an addiction to their touch?"

"Yes. Touching them is addictive. Looking at them is addictive. Tasting their skin is addictive. It was not the full fault of the species that consumed them. One taste of a Human's flesh was enough to sink anyone into obsession, needing and craving more until it drove them mad."

Clay frowned at this, thinking back to the odd behavior of the old Bat Fae that had thrown himself into the arms of the Human. The red crimson that the Bat drank down so greedily, filling his stomach with ambrosia. It can't have been coincidence.

"... So the Bat is harming himself on purpose."

"What?"

"That Bat Fae, the impish one that follows the footsteps of the Dragon, he begged (Y/n) for her blood, starving himself until he could get another taste."

This concerned the Shinigami deeply, having already known Lilia was keen to drown himself in his addiction, but not knowing how far it had already gone. If he has gotten a taste of her blood, how long until he wanted more than just blood from the soft Human they all adored?

"He needs to be watched, and needs to be limited if he has already decided to partake after starving himself. It does no good for one of her guards to crave her in such a way-"

The Shinigami fell silent as movement caught his eye. Both fixating on the dark shapes emerging from the dorm and setting the pair on high alert. None should be awake at this time and the fact that such an indeterminate sized group was awake was no small cause for concern.

"Something's wrong."

Clay said, immediately setting after the scurrying group without another glance back at the Shinigami. Something was certainly wrong or would be soon, and that was enough to prompt the Shinigami to follow suit.

~•§•~

You clung to Rook as he scuttled quickly to the school, his Spider legs giving him a speed that had Sebek and Silver struggling to keep up. The events prior to this panicked 'flight' replaying in your head. Rook had been so desperate to seek your aid that it made it difficult for you to deny the Drider despite the protests from your ever faithful Dragon.

It made it even more difficult to demand he stay behind.

~~

"Absolutely not! If he is planning to Overblot, you should be nowhere near him!"

The Dragon had snarled and was clearly concerned for you, trying everything he could to keep you safe in the dorm. He didn't want to face yet another situation where he failed to protect you from harm. He couldn't endure such a thing yet again.

"I can't just let Vil do this! If he is acting this way because of me, then I need to do something to stop him!"

"No, (Y/n), it isn't safe!"

"I don't care if it is safe or not! This is Vil we are talking about! If he Overblots, what happens to his life, to his future?"

You had yelled back at the Dragon who tried to keep you from going anywhere near the begging Drider that continued to plead for help. Time was short and arguing was only pissing that time away when there was little to waste. Even if you knew it was Vil responding to his own addiction to you, the weight of what could happen to him was suffocating you.

Vil was an actor and model who loved his many colors and prided himself on his control. If he Overblots, all of that cultivated beauty and effort he has dedicated his life to may as well be meaningless. His feathers would dull, his pristine face would tear, his life- as he knew it- would end.

All because of you.

You didn't ask for this. You didn't want this. You wanted to go home where the world wasn't addicted to you and vicious because you simply existed. But you couldn't just ignore a genuine plea for help.

You needed to help him, or at least try.

"Malleus, please. I need you to stay here and watch Grim-"

"Absolute not! I-"

"MALLEUS!"

The Dragon flinched at your tone, everyone wincing and curling in on themselves from your intensity. If they valued your happiness as much as they claimed to, he would have no choice but to listen.

"I need you to stay here and look out for Grim. If we all storm Vil, he will feel trapped and may Overblot on his own. I just need to get to him before that happens. If we can stop Vil, I will bring him back and I will be sharing the nest with him to make sure he doesn't tip over that edge until he can get himself under control again."

"The nest is not for outsiders-"

"I don't care if you don't want it, this is my nest now and I choose who gets to be in it. I understand you made this nest, but it is still mine. Tsuno, I need you to be here for Grim and I need to go to Vil. I would do the same for you if you were on the verge of Overblotting. Let me be there for those that need me."

There was a clear worry and stress in the Dragon's eyes as he stared in silence at you, the tension high in the room. Your mentioning of doing the same for him made that tough outer shell break, his eyes full of worry as he stared at you. Just another thing for him to adore you for, your kind heart wanting to keep himself and the others safe, even if it meant stopping them from self destructing.

"... Very well, but you will be taking Silver and Sebek with you. Understood?"

~~

Now Rook scuttled through the school, almost losing your duo of knights in the many twists and turns. Part of you was interested in how Rook could scurry along the walls so seamlessly as he never lost speed in his frantic pace. You had little time to dwell on such things given the situation at hand, but it was something to keep in mind for when you next had a chance.

As the Drider rounded the corner towards the Potions classroom, a sickening glow could be seen from beneath the door. Rook was quick to throw the door open and you both were stunned as the Harpy came into view.

He was laying collapsed on the floor by a dark inky cauldron that was mostly full, bubbling thickly with a potion of liquid shadows. Next to him was what remained of a lovely crystal vial, shattered and in pieces with more of that viscous potion clinging to the remnants. The potion itself was crawling out of the cauldron, leeching and spreading across the floor before up into the open mouth of the Harpy who lay with a deathly stillness.

You didn't wait for Rook to respond as you slid from his back, running to the collapsed Harpy. Seeing him up close was even more disturbing.

Vil's body had the slightest of tremors to it, as if trying to fight the potion that willingly poured itself into his mouth. His eyes were rolled back, the veins slowly darkening with black as his body weakly shook, unable to fight the aggressive bile. His chest did not rise or fall, stuck and choking on the viscous liquid that forced it's way into his mouth, his nose, his eyes, and anywhere else it could find entrance.

Tears rolled from the suffering eyes of the Harpy as the potion choked and suffocated him, almost whimpering sounds fighting to escape his chest. Who knows how long the potion had been choking Vil as he lay unable to fight back against the liquid taking residence in his body. Given the cauldron was mostly full and slowly moving, he must have been suffocating for only a few moments before you and Rook arrived.

"Vil!" You screamed out as you collapsed to your knees next to him, the black inky substance beginning to slide towards you instead, "Vil, please!"

The Harpy either didn't hear you, or he couldn't respond, too engulfed in the potion that sought refuge in his body. More footsteps let you know that Sebek and Silver had caught up, but you refused to take your eyes off of Vil. The thick potion was at your thighs now, sliding up your skin to seek entrance into your body as more began to gurgle from the cauldron.

"Little one, get back! That potion will take you too!"

A familiar voice you couldn't place at the moment screamed out in stress to you, but you didn't care. If you could take blot from those around you, perhaps you could stop this dark sacrifice from taking over Vil. The blot needed a host, and though it was trying to consume the lovely Harpy, it seemed more drawn to you.

You only had seconds to choose, and you hoped you would choose right.

Lifting the Harpy's body into your arms, you gave the blot the fastest way to be absorbed into you and crashed your lips into his. The potion responded immediately.

That inky darkness drew itself out of the Harpy and shoved back into your throat, the tendrils clawing into your nose and eyes as it abandoned the previous prize of the weakened Harpy and instead chose a new host. It was suffocating and despite how your body convulsed in an effort to stop the liquid, it pushed further. You couldn't stop the gagging as your body filled with the globulous ink that choked you. Still, you refused to drop the Harpy, your arms locking up as the potion eagerly abandoned its previous host.

Darkness swirled in your eyes and consumed your vision, leaving you tumbling down deep into shadows.

~•§•~

The Cervitaur and Raiju attempted to rush forward, to stop or lend aid however possible, but the large Shinigami stopped them. It would do no good to let the other younglings fall to the same potion that now covered and coated their beloved Human. Both screamed and writhed against the firm hold of the Shinigami who refused to let them closer. He couldn't let them throw themselves away so easily, even if it was for the Human.

Rook was able to escape the hold of the Yeti, his legs and flexibly helping him as he grabbed whoever he could to pull them out of the writhing mass of ink. The body he tugged on came loose easily and from it he pulled a shaking and convulsing Vil. Even as he wrenched the Harpy free from the hold of the blot, any trace left on him squealed and rolled back into the larger blob that still held the cherished Human captive.

Any attempt to sink his arms back into the blob were ineffective as it shoved both Drider and Harpy back, refusing to give up its quarry held within. The potion almost seemed alive in how it writhed, slowly losing size and shrinking down as more forced its way into the Human. Clay had to drag a frantic Rook and limp Vil to stop them from being consumed or trying to reach the Human.

"Non! Release me! Mon Trickster-!"

As they fought to free themselves, the collapsed Harpy slowly began to come around. His head was spinning and his very being ached in pain as he slowly lifted himself from the stone floors of the classroom. He looked up to see the inky abomination he created trying to consume the one he longed for.

He did this.

In his desperation to be noticed and finally acknowledged by the soft Human everyone seemed to love, he created a monster. A monster that tried to consume him and choked him so agonizingly slowly he had longed for death before it was being ripped back out of him. That cold pain from the blot was nothing he had experienced before and now he had thrust that suffering onto the very one he loved.

Clay was too busy and too focused on Rook to realize the Harpy had regained himself, unable to stop the feathered student from rushing forward, slamming a heavy lid down onto the cauldron and forcing it to sever the connection between the tendrils of ink and the deep pools of blot inside the cauldron. Successfully severing the link from the source, the remaining free blot screeched and scurried faster into the form of the Human, trying to escape into the limp body.

The potion still inside of the cauldron fought to escape, but a swift binding spell from the elder Shinigami kept it contained as Vil tried unsuccessfully to get that remaining blot away from the choking Human. Escaping through his fingers like smoke, it sank into the skin of his beloved.

"No!"

The Harpy cried and tried to fight the inky shadows that faded from view, settling inside the slightly convulsing body. He couldn't let his own blinded and misguided plans take the Human away from him so easily. To think, the one he refused to harm and longed for the attention of was the one who suffered his arrogant folly.

He had been so consumed by his jealousy that he had willingly sent his own faithful Hunter away on a fool's errand to get components he didn't need, completing his potion without witnesses. The intent was to only have a small bit of that potion, just enough to trigger an Overblot, but instead it latched itself to his face. Vil didn't even have the chance to scream as it flowed into him and choked him, agonizingly slow and bringing all of that negative thought to the surface of his mind.

What a fool he had been!

~•§•~

You felt lost, tumbling through shadows and left adrift in a sea of ink that smothered out all light. Only darkness seemed to remain inside and outside of your body, leaving you wandering the shadows of pain and suffering. Voices murmured and babbled mindlessly around you, the feeling of hands grabbing at you and tearing your soft flesh as if each hand could take a chunk from you for themselves.

Despite how you tried to flail and fight back against the hands, your limbs hit nothing and you felt as if you were thrashing uselessly. Drowning in the darkness that sought to consume you. No hands were touching you, yet you felt like you were being torn to pieces by unforgiving claws.

Eventually the loud wailing of a child came to the front of your mind and you were shoved from the shadows into an unusual scene. Around you were the opulent walls of what had to be someone's home, expensive looking furniture strewn about as if a fight had taken place. Intricate carpets were shoved to the side and lay as haphazardly as the furniture.

"Disgusting little whelp! You should have never been born!"

The screeching voice of a woman compelled you forward, exiting the room you were in to see a truly heartbreaking sight in the next. What looked like a young and downy feather covered Harpy child was sobbing, trying to seek shelter beneath a heavy metal and stone table. His rounded face was almost unfamiliar to you, but the blond and purple ombre hair gave you a good idea who this child was.

Above the table- clawing with hands and taloned feet- was a lovely Harpy woman with vivid purple and blue feathers. She was hissing and seemed to want to attack the poor child that was screaming for help as he hid beneath the table. Though she could not reach him, and did not seem to have the strength to get through the table to get to him, that didn't stop her from trying.

"Mommy, please-!"

The child cut off with a crying yelp as the Woman's talons caught his shoulder, leaving a deep and bleeding cut. His soft downy feathers became sticky with the red blood as he sobbed and screamed. The woman screaming back.

"Do not call me that! Never accuse me of mothering such a wretched and hideous Feral brat like you! You took everything from me!"

"Please, stop, mommy! Please, I'm sorry-!"

"Silence, you wretch!"

You couldn't stop yourself from running forward, trying to shove the female Harpy away as she attacked the child again. As you reached her, your hands and body went right through her and you realized this must have been the same as when you saw Alistair's haunted memories. Instead, an adult hand gripped the Harpy female and threw her backwards, away from the weeping child.

The man who had thrown her looked eerily similar to Vil, only his strong jawline made him more masculine appearing compared to the lovely Harpy you knew. If you had to guess, the two adult Harpies were Vil's parents, and his mother was the one attacking him.

"Don't you dare stop me, Erik, that hideous brat deserves death for what he did to me!"

"Get away from him, Calliope! Vil did nothing to you-"

"That Feral is why I can't have any more eggs! He ruined my life!"

"He is a child! He did nothing to you-!"

The female screeched, this time turning her violence against the Harpy male that stopped her. The two Harpies fought viciously, tumbling out of the room in a flurry of hisses and wings as they battled. Before you could follow, the sudden feeling of something wrapping around your leg made you look down in surprise.

Large violet eyes filled with tears looked up at you, seeking comfort after the painful experience he had at the hands of his own mother. His shoulder above his left wing bled and it was clear the child version of Vil was barely holding himself together. A lost child seeking comfort from the only place he felt he could receive it.

"Vil..."

You couldn't help but fall to one knee, pulling the sobbing Harpy boy close as he whimpered into your shoulder, gripping your shirt tightly in his little fists. He shook and flinched every time another loud bang was heard from the room adjacent where the adults continued to brawl. He couldn't have been a day older than five.

"Please don't ye-yell at me... I'm sorry..! I-" the chick hiccupped and sobbed, his little face flushed with red as he squeezed his eyes shut and held tighter to your leg, "I'll be- be a good boy, I s-swear!"

"He deserves death!"

"How can you say that about our chick? He's just a boy! Where did all of that love go when we incubated his egg?"

"How could I ever love such a wretched little beast? That monster took everything from me! And if you can't see that, then maybe neither of you are worth loving!"

A loud bang followed the hissed argument and the house fell into silence. Young Vil shivered and sobbed into you, slowly fading away from your view and back into the darkness you had been adrift in before. Your time spent in the shadows was shorter, but no less suffocating as you where thrown into yet another scene.

A young teen Vil stood with his back against a wall, his wings wrapped around him to protect himself as other kids of various species threw stones at him. They were jeering and laughing any time Vil yelped from another lobbed stone as they continued to pelt the Harpy.

"We don't want villains like you here!"

"Go back to your tree, Harpy!"

"Get out of here, freak!"

Again you tried to intervene, and again you phased through them unseen and unheard. Part of you wanted to scream in frustration and pain, but even if you did, no one would hear it. Instead, help came in the form of a fluffy white furred boy with an elongated muzzle and bright yellow eyes.

"Leave him alone!"

The other children ran when they saw the Wolf charging at them, scrambling and tripping over their legs as they fled from the other boy. That same boy who stopped once the rest of the kids had run and turned back to Vil, who had slumped to the ground with his face in his hands.

"Hey... Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"Go away! I don't need your help!"

The teen grabbed one of the stones that had been thrown at him, halfheartedly trying to hit the Wolf that had helped him. That Wolf refused to leave though, approaching and sitting next to the curled up Harpy who eventually leaned against the furred teen, seeking comfort from the one who stood up for him.

"It isn't fair they treat you like that."

"Haven't you heard? I'm Vil the villain... Of course they hate me."

"They shouldn't! You just pretend to be a villain for movies and stuff, I've seen your work and you are so good at it."

"It takes a villain to play a villain."

"I don't think you're a villain."

"You might be the only one..."

The scene shifted once more, this time going straight into the next scene instead of casting you back into the darkness. This scene was a more familiar one, as you recognized the general layout of a Pomefiore dorm room. It was decorated and even the curtains were embellished in golden designs that gave an air of opulence.

"Why is it never me..?"

The soft voice of Vil as you knew him now almost whimpered out behind you. Turning to see the Harpy, a kind of pity pulled at your heart. His mascara had run down his cheeks as he was clearly crying, glaring into the mirror before him with a deep hiss.

"Why can I never be the first choice for anyone? Why do I always have to be the villain..?"

He gripped the frame of the mirror and rest his forehead against it, his nails digging into the wood of the frame. The Harpy let out a sad sigh, looking back up at his face with a wince.

"My own mother could not love me... Why would (Y/n)? I am unlovable... Hideous, disgusting, worthless Harpy. Completely and wholly unlovable... I do not deserve her affection... I do not deserve any of it..."

~•§•~

Coming back into awareness was painful and sudden, your body responding for you as you flipped from your back onto your front. The convulsions were the first thing you registered, hacking and spitting out mouthfuls of the black ichor. It seemed to try and reach back out to you, wanting to return to the host it had chosen, but blue flames ignited it and burned the squealing blobs. Each mouthful squealed and tried to run from the flames, taking refuge inside of the empty cauldrons the others fled to.

As you finally could take a breath, one more sudden rush of mucus covered ink ran screaming from your throat. This one felt like it took all of your strength just to eject it from your body, the hissing of the blob only louder as the blue flames forced it back and into the cauldron with the rest. A sudden lid came down on the cauldron, chains wrapping around it and sealing the squealing beast inside.

Your arms shook, collapsing beneath you as you fell to the ground, panting down the crisp and clean air around you. Each breath was exhilarating as if you had been starving for oxygen while the blot come to life smothered you. A large hand rest against your back, rubbing soothing circles and lifting you from the cold ground.

The figure slowly rolled you into their arms and you noticed the concerned expression of Papa Hades gazing down at you. His worry sparked a stressed feeling in your mind as you vaguely tried to recall what could have upset him so much. Over his shoulder, Silver, Sebek, and Rook let out heavy weeping sobs, trying to console one another and hold themselves together.

You turned your head away from the group, looking for the Harpy whose darkest memories had played across your vision in some macabre video of sorrow. Vil kneeled next to you, weeping just as heavily as the others. One of your hands weakly reached out, brushing against the cheek of the Harpy who startled from the touch.

"... Vil..?"

"(Y/n)!"

The Harpy almost tried to wrench you out if the hold of the elder Shinigami, pulling you close to him with loud sobs of relief. Despite seeming hesitant of the Harpy, Papa Hades allowed the Harpy to hold you. Slowly you felt like you could move again. Certainly worse for wear, but conscious enough to understand the sobbed words of the Harpy.

"I- I am..! I am so sorry, (Y/n)! I will leave Night Raven College, I will leave Sage Island! I refuse to stay where I could harm you again-!"

"Vil."

"I don't want you to leave."

"... Please..." the Harpy whimpered, "... Please don't yell at me... I'll be good and leave you alone... I swear..."

"... What?"

"Vil, do you really think I would come all the way here in the middle of the night if I wanted you gone?"

"... No."

"You made a bad choice, Vil. Did you even stop to think how Overblotting would ruin everything you've worked to achieve? Have you seen Alistair? Riddle? What would it do to you?"

"... It would make me as ugly outside as I am inside."

You winced slightly, having seen the pain in his heart and the weight he carried. The world saw flawless and immaculate Vil Schoenheit, but you saw a weeping child scorned by his mother for simply existing. An adult with a wounded child hidden away in his heart, longing for someone to finally love him when his mother could not.

"Vil..."

You sighed and pulled the Harpy close, kissing his forehead as he tensed in your arms. He eventually melted into it and curled close, cooing at you affectionately and resting his head against your shoulder. His wings lay over you body and you let the Harpy collect himself. It was obvious that though you had absorbed almost all of that vile concoction from Vil's system, he was still drained physically and emotionally.

"Come on."

"... What?"

"We're going to my nest in Ramshackle. It's not as fancy or put together as your dorm, but I really don't think you should be alone right now."

The Harpy smiled gently and genuinely at this, grateful you were not screaming at him as his heart wouldn't be able to take it. The weight of his actions was crushing him and he felt properly miserable, making it hard to even enjoy the fact you wanted him in your nest. It wouldn't have been worth it and he sees that now.

You noticed only the slightest difference in the appearance of the Harpy, the faintest of deep blacks at the edges of his tail and wing feathers, adding a kind of faint striping pattern down the outer flight feathers. Nothing too outwardly destructive, but a subtle sign of the blot altering his appearance if you looked closely enough.

"It seems yet another data point will have to be added to this study."

[81pastrys]

Lando taking care of a sick Lila at the track would be so cute, checking on her in between practices and cuddling her whilst looking at data and chatting with the team 🥺

Sick Day

Summary— Lila wakes up feeling under the weather and Lando brings her to the track, her sickness fading as he does his best to make her comfortable

Warnings— sick toddler ; mentions of puke

A/N— sick Lila Norris

Dad Lando List

Lila had come down with a fever, stomach bug, among other symptoms. Lando had a practice day though and had to bring her along. He felt so bad for the little girl as she whined at him.

He made sure she was done throwing up at home before putting her in a car for however long it takes to get to the track. When they got to the track he took her and all her things out with him.

“I’m gonna put a show on your tablet in my room, and have Mr. Jon watch over you while I drive okay sweetheart?” He said while setting it all up for her. She just nodded, the exhaustion of being sick every other hour was taking a toll on her. He caressed her hair and kissed her forehead before heading out to his car.

Jon had sick bags, snacks, drinks, meds, anything he’d need. Not to mention Lando was over the top dramatic. Lila watched her show and Jon stayed with her. An hour and nearly a half was really long when you’re watching a sick 3 year old.

When Lila groaned that she was hot, Jon helped her out of her jacket and asked if she needed anything else. “I want daddy.” She pouted, tears slowly forming. Jon frowned and looked to the tv broadcasting live practice. There was only 15 minutes left.

“I know, he’s almost done Lila.” He assured her. “Do you want to try eating a snack?” She shook her head at him, afraid she’d puke anything she ate. She went back to watching her show until Lando returned. He looks rushed and as if he literally just got out of his car.

“Is she alright? Nothing drastic happened?” He asked panicked as Lila reached for him to hold her.

“I took her jacket off because she said it was hot, but she didn’t get sick or eat anything.” Jon told him. Lando thanked him and turned the tablet off. Lila resting her head on Lando’s chest.

“Let’s try to eat some crackers or bread yeah?” Lando nodded. “It’ll make you feel better sweetheart.” He tried convincing her to eat. She whined but nonetheless ate 2 crackers and snacked on bread while he looked over data and statistics.

He got her to drink an electrolyte drink to get some sort of substance in her body. Lila whined at any food or drink he wanted her to eat, still afraid the bug would attack again. When she hadn’t thrown up from before FP1 to almost FP2 Lando deemed her bug free and worried a bit less about leaving her with Jon again.

This time he made his trainer bench a bed for her to nap on, her constant yawns and eye rubbing gave him the impression she needed sleep to fight the sickness. He lowered the table and laid a blanket down, giving her a couch pillow and throwing more blankets on top her.

“You’ll feel much better if you take a nap okay?” Lando said before leaving. He kissed her head and walked away once again. Jon oversaw the sleeping girl while also watching the practice. Lando had finished practice and she was still napping.

He let her be while he did medias and such, something he knew would not go over well while she was sick. He got back and the door opening caused her to stir awake. “Daddy?” She questioned rubbing her eyes as she woke.

“Yes, sweetheart, what do you need?” He asked, sitting on the table with her. She laid on his leg and was seemingly asleep again. He knew he had more analytics to look at. He sighed and sat back, waiting for her to wake again so he could carry her around.

“Lando we need to go over this telemetry.” An engineer walked in. Lando had been on his phone while Lila rested her head on his thigh to sleep. He looked up and back down to Lila.

“Mate, I really don’t want to wake her.” He said. “She’s been sick all day and I just got back.” He explained. The engineer sighed but left him alone. A couple minutes later Lila picked her head up.

“Can you hold me daddy?” She asked, still groggy from sleep. He obliged and carried the sick girl out to the engineer that had bothered him prior. Finishing up the data analysis and able to gather their things and go home.

This one is a bit longer 🩷

[paucubarsisimp]

could you write for Pablo gavi? You said you wanted more fluff requests, so I’m thinking maybe something like reader goes for a girls night out, Pablo comes and picks her up, and then while she’s all drunk and giggly they’re laying in bed and keeps asking silly questions or talking about the randomest things, but Pablo just cuddles her close with a stupid smile and nothing but love in his eyes?

tispy

pairing: pablo gavi x reader

summary: basically the request 😭

warnings: none

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @nngkay, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

the night had been full of laughs, dancing, and way too many cocktails with your girls. you had spent hours on the dance floor, your heels clicking to the beat and your laughter mixing with the music. everything felt light and fun, but now it was that time of the night—the time when all the fun started to blur together in a warm, fuzzy haze.

you weren’t exactly planning on ending up like this, tipsy and giggly, stumbling out of the club with your friends, but that’s exactly what happened. you were buzzing with excitement, and then, suddenly, there he was. pablo, your sweet, slightly goofy boyfriend, standing by the door of the bar like he’d come to rescue you from your very own personal chaos.

he smiled, his brown eyes twinkling as he looked at you. you noticed the soft, playful glint in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable he was.

“ready to go home, preciosa?” he asked, leaning down to kiss your cheek. his lips lingered there for a moment, and you felt a warmth spread across your face, a mix of his affection and the alcohol.

“i don’t know…” you slurred, slightly swaying on your feet. “i’m still feeling like i need… i dunno… a taco. like, a lot of tacos. what do you think?”

pablo laughed, shaking his head. “we can’t eat tacos now, bebé. you’re drunk. come on, let’s get you home.”

you put up a dramatic fight as he led you out to the car. “but… but i’m really good at picking tacos, pablo. like, i’ve mastered the art of taco eating,” you said, looking at him with big, earnest eyes, which only made him laugh harder.

“i’m sure you have, but right now, you need sleep, not tacos,” he teased, putting his arm around your waist to guide you. “we’ll get tacos another day. okay?”

you whined but gave in, letting him help you into the car. once you were both in the backseat, your head lolling against his shoulder, you couldn’t help but giggle again. everything seemed a little bit more fun when you were tipsy, and for some reason, all you could think about were the most random, out-there questions.

you barely made it into pablo’s apartment before you were plopping down on his bed, your tipsy brain racing with thoughts that made no sense whatsoever. pablo came in after you, shaking his head in amusement as you flopped on the pillow, still giggling.

“mi amor, you’re a mess,” he said affectionately, sitting beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your waist.

“i am not a mess,” you replied with a snicker, trying to hold yourself together, but failing miserably. “i’m just… a fun mess.”

pablo rolled his eyes, a smile still tugging at his lips. “uh-huh, sure.”

“hey, pablo…” you said, turning your head to look at him, your eyes suddenly wide with deep curiosity. “do you think… like, when socks disappear in the laundry, are they secretly having their own little sock party somewhere?”

he blinked at you, blinking a few times as if processing the question. “what? a sock party?”

“yeah, like, you know—where do they go? why does one sock always go missing? are they, like, having a rave or something?” you giggled again, your head spinning just a little bit.

pablo stared at you for a moment before shaking his head with a small laugh. “you’re ridiculous, preciosa. i don’t think socks have their own party. but maybe they do. maybe there’s a whole sock world we don’t know about.”

you grinned, loving how he was humoring you. “yeah, and maybe that’s why we always find one sock alone under the couch. like, the sock that survived the party.”

“you’ve got a wild imagination,” pablo said, kissing the top of your head as he tucked you closer to him. “but i’ll go along with it. maybe socks are just more social than we think.”

you snickered, feeling cozy in his arms. “they’re just too cool for us.”

a few minutes passed, and you were still feeling playful, still wondering about the silliest things. “pablo…”

“yeah?” he asked, smiling as he stroked your hair gently.

“do you think… like, when people see an elevator button, they secretly think it might be the one that takes them to another dimension?” you asked, your voice a little more serious now, like you were actually pondering a deep question. “like… what if it’s a secret portal, but we’re all too scared to push it because it’s just… so unknown?”

pablo blinked, processing your words again. he let out a small laugh, squeezing you a little tighter. “i think you’ve had one too many drinks, but i’ll entertain this one… maybe the elevator button is the key to another world. what if it takes us to a land full of unicorns?”

“YES! that’s what i’m saying! like, what if there’s a whole society of people who just… get it? and they’ve been waiting for us to push that button for years,” you said, your eyes wide with excitement as if you were actually uncovering some great truth.

“i’m glad i’m here to discover this world with you,” pablo said, his smile never fading. “maybe tomorrow we’ll go look for the button.”

you snorted in laughter, thinking about how absurd that sounded. “yes! we’ll make history. we’ll be the first to discover the unicorn kingdom.”

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’ll let you lead the way, but only if you promise not to drag me through another sock rave along the way.”

“deal,” you giggled, laying your head back on his chest.

your mind was still buzzing with random questions and thoughts, and as pablo wrapped his arms around you, you let yourself float in that happy, fuzzy space where everything felt like it made sense—even though it didn’t.

“hey,” you asked after a moment, your voice full of curiosity, “do you think bubbles in a soda ever get confused? like, are they all just… bouncing around, wondering where to go?”

pablo’s chest shook with laughter. “i think the bubbles are just… doing their job, bebé. they’re probably not thinking about anything at all. they just want to get out of the soda.”

you frowned, a little disappointed with his answer. “so you’re telling me that bubbles don’t dream of being… free? flying through the air, not stuck inside a can?”

he laughed again, squeezing you. “okay, okay, maybe they dream of that. maybe all bubbles want to escape.”

you nodded thoughtfully, as if that was the most profound thing you’d ever heard. “yeah, i bet they do. poor bubbles. trapped in a cage.”

“they’ll get their freedom one day,” he said with a grin, brushing your hair back. “they’ll fly away and live their best bubble lives.”

you smiled sleepily, drifting closer to him, your eyelids heavy as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. “pablo… you’re my favorite person to be silly with.”

he pulled you in even closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re my favorite person, period. silly or not. i love you just the way you are.”

you smiled sleepily, your heart full of affection for him. “you’re perfect. even if you don’t believe in the sock parties or the bubble dreams.”

he chuckled softly, his voice warm and steady. “i believe in you, preciosa. that’s all that matters.”

you sighed contentedly, the world around you slowly fading into a peaceful calm as you snuggled even closer, wrapping yourself in the safety of his arms. and for the rest of the night, you both stayed there, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence—silly questions and all.

don’t forget to leave a request!

[candicoated]

It's time for me to ask the age old question. Please be civil in the comments.

[arolesbianism]

Me sitting and watching any oni discussion waiting for an excuse to bring up a seed is planted all like 🤓👉👈

[sapphiresaphics]

1. Leblanc thinks she tricked Mel into siding with her. She knew she couldn’t defeat her with her magic because Mel’s magic is so dangerous to them. That’s WHY she tries to manipulate Mel into agreeing to take out her mother with the Black Rose amulet. You’re right, Leblanc is a manipulator. And in that moment when she’s being manipulated, Mel was able to see her true intentions and outwit her. That’s why Leblanc says “clever girl” as Mel frees Ambessa from their clutches.

I’m really not sure how you don’t grasp this concept? I felt it was pretty obvious from the start that both of them were playing mind games with each other. Why on earth would Mel trust the people who killed her brother?

2. “Sits dormant her entire life without signs” uh.. her entire life is like… 26-33? And there were signs? Mel’s empathy was a sign. It’s the reason Ambessa sent her away, because her unabashed empathy was “weakening” her resolve. The Jijx attack on the counsel was another sign. She even admits later in the show that in that moment she started to suspect she was magical in some way. It wasn’t a conscious thing, more of a reflex. And from that moment on the signs keep coming more and more.

Your league lore doesn’t really disprove any of this? The fact that so many people have different times they learn they’re magical kinda endorses the idea that it might take her longer than others to figure it out. Especially if she’s being repressed as you suggest? Like I don’t see this as a big plot hole or something. It seems pretty self explanatory to me.

3. I see you’re pulling the Rey accusations out. She’s “too good too fast!” I mean, I don’t see it that way st all. She didn’t know she could use magic. And when she does she’s not proficient with it until the end of the show. She had to walk back to Piltover from wherever she was being held captive, you don’t think she might’ve tried to understand her newfound power? She just walked in a straight line from the prison she was in to Piltover, never stopping, never resting, never once thinking about what happened to her and what is going on in her own body? For days/weeks on end or however long it took for her to get there?

Additionally, yeah I’m going by what the show has presented because as you say, THAT’S the new lore. So if you’re comparing it to old lore, you’re kinda doing yourself a disservice? Old lore is dead. New lore is in. You can’t say “it doesn’t work this way in old lore” when you’re referring to the new lore. Arcane presents it a different way. Until their next show contradicts it or expands on it in any way, I have no reason to dismiss what Arcane shows us is how mages wake up their powers.

And again… it doesn’t seem like it’s a fast and steady rule. Seems like there’s a lot of variations even WITH the old lore. So maybe treat this as Mel’s personal experience and not a universal experience? Not all black people experience racism the same way. Not all gay people come out of the closet the same way. Maybe don’t treat all mages in Arcane as all having to experience their powers the same?

4. I’m interacting with your post because you have questions about the show and I think I can answer them to the best of my ability given what the show has presented. It’s not my fault you don’t want to grapple with the idea that the lore you love so much might be null and void.

5. Again… nothing in the show suggests runes were put on Mel’s body to suppress her magic. So I’m not going to entertain this is an idea until the show or a spin-off explains it. I’m not gonna take the word of the old lore of this is the new lore going forward.

And again again… we have seen rune magic run out. Those little crystals Viktor gave to young Jayce ran out of rune magic. The runes Ambessa wears need to be charged up. The hextech itself can’t use the runes unless the hextech gemstone is there to power the runes. The show itself goes to great lengths to show that these runes require some form of magical channeling somehow. That tunes need magical energy to flow through them to function. If that’s not the case then the show hasn’t presented that as a fact yet.

So here’s a question. Are you trying to engage with what the show presents, or are you trying to engage with show based on old league lore when you KNOW that Arcane is intentionally fleshing things out and changing things? I’m trying to grasp where you’re coming from because it feels like you just don’t like the way Arcane chose to take things rather than trying to grasp what happened in the show.

If you give me a scenario you are confused by, I can explain it. But I’m going to explain it in the context of the show based on what the show presented to the audience.

I don’t want to fight tbh. I would like for you and I to come to some sort of agreement or compromise. But it doesn’t seem like that’s what YOU want. You seem to want to just be angry.

another thing that’s frustrating about arcane season two is that whenever i try to make sense of an event that involves magic, the explanation just creates another incoherent plotline, especially with the case of mel medarda.

how does she break free from leblanc’s black rose domain, something controlled by a vastly more powerful and experienced mage?

mel was born super powerful. because the show says so. yeah, she went from a nonviolent, politically driven aristocrat to a full-on superpowered mage because ... well, she obviously trained off-screen, with leblanc, maybe? the show doesn’t say. but you know what the show says? that she was born super powerful, and that’s enough.

okay ... then, if she’s always had this immense power, why has she never experienced even the slightest manifestation of it in her ~30 years of life? why was she so oblivious about her nature? it's hard to believe.

well, according to external league lore, her father secretly put runes in her tattoos to suppress her magic. so, it makes total sense.

yeah … but then how is she able to use magic now, when those tattoos are still on her body? what changed?

during the council attack in season 1, when she instinctively used a shield, that ... somehow broke the tattoos’ suppression. it’s magic, okay?!

but the runes, which were specifically designed to suppress her magic, are a form of magic in themselves. so why does mel suddenly break free of them?

because her magic is more powerful than ... magic? because, the show says that she’s very powerful ...

but this contradicts established league lore. even mages like ryze can’t just do whatever they want, magic has its boundaries for them too. so, mages can’t just act without limits or consequences. if mel can break free of magic-suppressing runes so easily, it undermines the very concept of magic rules that have been established within the broader lore, no?

... arcane is the new canon? although none of this is said in arcane.

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. play fighting with your lover quickly turns into you being pounded on the couch.

tags. (assassin!)toji x female reader. smut. dōggy style. age gap implied. with plot-ish. unprotected -> p in v. size difference / kink. power trip-ish. teasing. crēampie. dacryphilia. tummy bulging. pūssy slapping. breēding mention. reader gets called ‘(little) girl, pretty, doll, slut.’ not proofread. wc: 3.4k

you let out a sigh of relief when your lover comes back home safe from another mission. toji’s risky job always leaves you anxious, knowing what could happen to him if things took a turn for the worse.

“keheh, there’s my pretty girl,” toji grins as he feels you jump into his embrace the instant he steps into the living room. your arms wrap around his waist and your head rests against his chiseled chest. he’s sweaty and bloody, yet you can’t care less. you’ve waited all day for him.

you tilt your head back and give the black-haired man a quick, passionate kiss. he returns it with equal force before picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. once toji put you down, he reaches a hand out to lazily ruffle your hair, “i’m g’nna take a shower, yeah?”

you shake your head and grab his hand before he can think of moving away. “no, want you to stay. just for a little more,” you attempt to coax toji into staying with you for a bit more.

“after i take a shower, doll. i probably smell ‘n look like shit,” the assassin mumbles in a low tone. his hair is wet with sweat, black locks sticking to his forehead. his compression shirt is torn in some places, but it’s neatly outlining his pecs, which makes him look ten times more attractive.

“nu-uh, you don’t,” you refute and tug at toji’s wrist again. he playfully rolls his eyes after giving in to your innocent request. you clearly don’t mind the sweaty state he’s in. you just want to cuddle up and talk to him about all kinds of things. “you look as handsome as ever,” you smile at him once you straddle his lap. toji’s hands find your hips, his nails ghosting over your skin to send shivers down your spine.

“heh. that ain’t nothin’ new,” your lover leans his head back with a cocky smirk. he knows how much you love it when he’s all sweaty and tired. toji never fails to spot the way your eyes wander up and down his muscular figure whenever he’s wearing that signature outfit of his. a black compression shirt that defines his pecs and white-ish baggy pants. you love it.

your fingers trace circles over his chest. you don’t seem to care about the random crimson droplets on his skin. they’re not his, thus you let it go. asking questions about the job he’s finished will only ruin the mood you’ve set. plus, toji clearly needs some distraction from the fact that his limbs are aching. he’s outdone himself today as well.

“you tired?” you ask through a soft murmur. your boyfriend nods while yawning, teasingly pinching your cheek afterwards. “mhm,” toji hums while playing with the collar of your shirt, eyes wandering down to your tits. one of his most favorite spots on your body.

you’re clearly not wearing a bra and it’s making it difficult for him to stay focused. your nipples push against the material of your pyjamas so deliciously, just begging to be touched by his fingers. he quietly clears his throat and looks the other direction to play it off.

“oh?” you giggle and tap toji’s cheek twice to gain his attention, though with no success. he’s trying his best to come off as nonchalant as possible—to remain that stoic man he’s always been. his attempts are proven futile when you press your breasts against his chest.

“come on, babe. look at meeee,” you laugh and resort to tickling toji’s belly and armpits. he freezes for a second before scoffing at your actions, his hands immediately rush under your shirt to tickle you back. you end up squirming on his lap, trying to swat his arms in attempt to defend yourself.

your lover lets out a haughty chuckle as you become defenceless because of his well calculated revenge tickles. “mm? didn’t hear ya, y’ should speak up,” toji teases you, clearly seeing how you’re struggling to talk as he makes you squeal and laugh uncontrollably.

there are tears forming on your eyes. your breath comes in short gasps when you finally find a chance to jump off toji’s lap. “shut up, fushiguro!” you call out, going back to last name basis, which you know toji dislikes. you stumble back a little and stick your tongue out at your lover before fleeing the scene. or at least you try to.

“fushiguro, aye?” you hear toji’s voice right behind you, and when you turn around to face him, he’s already got you caged in his arms. you gasp and kick your legs, hitting him in the shin. the man groans at the contact and loosens his grip a little. you take the opportunity again, jumping onto his back, clinging onto him with your legs around his waist. you encircle your arm around his neck and catch him off guard with a surprise headlock.

“hehe, got you now,” you grin smugly. toji’s not giving his best, you know that, because you’d be on the floor if he did. he’s allowing you to have fun and he’s indulging you, which you more than so appreciate. “what? cat got your tongue, big boy?” you continue challenging him, proud of your little achievement.

you’re painfully oblivious to toji's struggles. how he's struggling with his inner desires, how his hands ball up into fists at his side. he can feel your body clinging onto him, your legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. it’s adorable that you find so much joy in having the upper hand over a grown man like him.

adorable, and such a huge turn on.

toji can’t believe that he’s getting a boner from just playing with you like this. maybe it’s your body that’s pressed against him so snugly, letting him feel every feminine curve or maybe it's the fact that he knows he can easily pin you to the ground and show you what a real man can do until you're begging for mercy.

your nipples are pressed against his back and it’s so hard to act like he can’t feel that. it’s hard to believe you’re not doing it on purpose, but you truly aren’t.

“careful,” toji comments in a husky voice. the corner of his lip twitches, his eyes hidden behind his black bangs, “y’ might start something you can’t finish.” you figure that it’s just bait to scare you off, so you don’t take it seriously. you tighten the headlock a little, biting toji’s ear and nibbling on it as revenge.

“you’re not scaring me with that,” you chuckle and pinch toji’s cheek with your free hand. the older man turns his head slightly, catching a glimpse of your mischievous grin. oh, how cute.

with a swift, fluid motion, toji reaches up with both hands and grasps your thighs firmly. in a heartbeat, your positions reverse and he pins you to the nearby wall. both of his meaty arms cage you in by pressing against the concrete on either side of your head.

“seems like i’m the one who got ya now, doll,” toji murmurs, his voice low and laced with a hint of lust. he gazes down at you, your faces mere inches apart. you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. he’s itching to claim your mouth so, so bad.

but before he can capture your sweet lips with his, you catch him off guard by pushing your full weight forward, causing toji to lose balance. he tumbles backwards onto the carpet below with you on top of him.

“nope, am not giving up so easily,” you giggle as you try to grab at his wrists. you’re oblivious to toji’s desires, too focused on overpowering the man who could snap you in half. it’s fun when he allows you to take control.

however, your lover is slowly losing his rationality. you’re seated on top of his abs and he can swear he can feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes. it’s the only thing he can focus on at that moment. the only thing he craves.

“fuck, c’mere,” toji growls and rolls you over so you’re pinned beneath him on the floor. he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips when your laughter echoes throughout the living room. even through his lustful haze, he finds your joy thoroughly endearing.

you manage to find another opening and roll over again so you’re on top of him instead. the cycle continues for a few more seconds, your bodies lost in a tangled mess of limbs. you exchange gasps, grunts and giggles while you’re ‘fighting’ for dominance.

when you bite on toji’s shoulder as a way to catch him off guard once more, he hisses. not in an annoyed or pained way— no. he’s so turned on that you biting him sends a jolt of pleasure right down to his aching cock. so turned on that he may accidentally have developed a new kink in that same second.

either way, that little action was his last straw.

toji effortlessly lifts you up on the couch, your body bouncing a bit on the plush cushions as he turns you around on your stomach. one arm hooks around your neck, his bicep pressing against your throat. not enough to hinder your airway, but enough to send shivers down your spine.

“told ya to b’ careful,” toji grunts, his breath against your sensitive skin from behind, “y’ should start listening to me more.” his tongue flicks out and licks a stripe up your ear. his crotch is pressed right against your ass and only then do you notice his raging hard-on.

your eyes widen, cheek smushed against his muscular arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place beneath his big body. “oh, fuck, toji,” you let out a shuddering breath. you’re completely engulfed by his large frame—disappearing out of sight. just how he likes it.

“yeah? feel that?” toji grins as he squeezes his bicep around your delicate throat some more. you gasp and whine, turned on by him overpowering you, as much as you had been enjoying the opposite just seconds ago. he mocks your earlier words with a grunt, “think i have’ta remind my lil’ brat exactly what this ‘big boy’ can do to ya.”

and the older man wastes no time to do exactly that.

your shorts and panties are tossed carelessly on the carpet, your cheek smushed against the cushions that you’re desperately gripping. your face is contorted with pleasure, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over and your swollen lips parted to take shallow breaths.

you can feel the ache in your lower back. the arch of your spine is nearly unnatural as your ass is pushed so high up, bouncing back to meet the mean backshots your man is giving you.

“ah, ngh! t—toooji,” you mewl loudly, droplets of saliva trickling down from the corner of your mouth. you can’t deny that this entire situation has you soaked.

the switch toji went through, from being playful and letting you do what you want to reminding you who’s boss at the end of the day— it’s perfect and feels way too good. the cherry on top is the familiar scent of his body, the sweat mixed with his cologne.

it adds to the pleasure, makes you dizzy in a good way.

toji grips your waist, his manly hands trailing down to your hips every now and then for the extra leverage. his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he pounds into you mercislessly, fucking into you like you’re his personal cocksleeve. “ain’t gonna try that again, are ya?”

“dumb lil’ slut,” your harsh lover grumbles under his breath, hand smacking the fat of your ass. toji loves seeing it ripple underneath him, even more so when his hips smack against your rear with strength that leaves your flesh stinging, “bet ya love it when i remind you who owns this cunt.”

toji groans as he slides his thick cock in and out of your tight cunt. you’re gripping him like you never want to let go, like you want to milk him of every drop of the cum stored in his balls.

the sight that he’s blessed with from his point of view can make him bust a load right then and there. you’re presenting your ass to him shamelessly, looking back over your shoulder with lust-blown eyes.

and don’t get him started on the outline of his dick distending your tummy, the one he can feel whenever he reaches a hand around to press against your lower abdomen and circle your clit. too fucking lewd.

“fuck, yeahhhh. take that fat fuckin’ dick, baby,” toji throws his head back as he pushes your body even further into the couch. you swear he’s folding you in half, “let me show ya what a real man in charge can do— how a real man fucks his woman.”

toji’s cock is ruining you, reshaping your insides to fit his massive size and you don’t mind it one bit. in fact, you love it. love the feel of him, the stretch and burn of his thick cock splitting you open.

“yes, mmh, yes! fuck me!” you keen, sobbing from the pleasure. your hand reaches back to scratch at toji’s arm, trying to hold onto him, to find him even in the midst of it all. the view of your desperation and your pleas makes him lose it.

the dark-haired man scoffs, “oh, i’ll fuck ya, all right. . .”

with a low growl, toji plants one foot on the floor next to you, his other leg still bent at the knee on the sofa you’re laying at. the muscles in his arms ripple as he lifts your hips even higher up to be able to meet his thrusts.

“fuuuuuck! right there!” you wail, your head trashing back and forth on the damp sofa. from this new angle, he can drive his fat dick into you even deeper, engorged tip hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see white.

toji revels in the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your sweet moans. you seem so much smaller than him in this new position, your body helplessly giving in, allowing him to put you in whatever position he wants. it boosts his ego and makes his cock pulse inside of you.

he loves seeing the tears in your eyes as it nearly gets too much for you to handle. it motivates him to fuck you harder until you’re full on bawling, which he can easily get off on. making you cry in pure bliss is all he wants to achieve.

your pussy is tight as it clenches around his cock like a vice. toji’s hand slithers around to circle your clit, making your legs spasm and hips thrust back sloppily. “shitttt, y’r sweet lil’ cunt was made just for this—” he pants as his thumb presses against the nub, “to take my cock.”

all you can do is dumbly nod at whatever your partner says. “mmhm, ah yeah, made for you,” your small whines are music to his ears. the palms of your hands feel clammy as you hold onto anything you can grasp.

everything around you is a blur as the only thing you can focus on is the way his heavy cock fills you so well.

toji can feel your juices trickling down his heavy sack, soaking his thighs and yours, as well as the couch. it will leave stains, but he doesn’t care and neither do you.

“look at ya,” he huffs and slaps your clit once, callused fingers dragging along your puffy lips that are parted obscenely wide for his cock. toji brings his wet finger to his mouth to lick it clean. he hums satisfactorily at the taste, “pussy’s droolin’ aaaall over my dick. nasty girl.”

your pussy starts fluttering around his thick length as it impales you over and over. it’s a telltale sign of your orgasm, one toji has come to recognise quite easily.

“yeah? gonna make an even bigger mess on my cock?” he grins before pressing his chest against your sweaty back, blanketing your small body. the extra weight added to the ecstasy only makes you scream louder for him.

“yes, yes, yes! gonna cum!” you cry out, toes curling and eyes rolling back as you try to prolong your pleasure. even if it’s only for a second.

toji curses under his breath as his hips move faster to drive you over the edge. he can’t wait to feel your cunt get even tighter, to make it feel like you’re about to snap his dick off. he loves the pain mixed with the pleasure of your tightness.

“do it. cream all over me, c’mon, little girl. y’ can do it,” toji coaxes, delivering small smacks to your clit, causing your hips to jolt back with each slap. you can’t do it anymore— can’t hold on any longer.

you scream as you cum, your pussy spasming wildly around toji’s pulsing cock. that sensation alone has the older man gasping for air, nails digging into the flesh of your ass. no matter how many times he fucks you, the moment you cum, he automatically follows.

the way you squeeze his dick and hold onto it like you don’t want to let go is simply too much.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. g’nna make me bust a fat fuckin’ nut inside of you,” toji groans, his rhythm growing sloppy yet his thrusts are still deliciously hard, “gonna pump this pussy full of my load. breed ‘er nice and deep. shitt— take it!”

a strangled moan leaves his lips as he grinds his hips against your ass while his cock jolts inside of you. he pumps jet after jet of hot cum directly into your womb, tip rubbing against the deepest spot he can reach.

“eaaaasy, yeah, just like that. let it soak into ya,” toji hisses as his hips jerk erratically, “good girl. takin’ all of it so well.” it seems to go on forever as spurts of semen flood your insides for a good few seconds.

once your lover fully empties his balls inside of you, he feels himself grow weak. his thighs and arms tremble a bit from overexertion.

you collapse together in a sweaty heap, toji’s softening dick still buried deep inside of you. the only thing filling the room now is your heavy breathing as you slowly regain your composure. it’s quite a comfortable silence.

after a while, toji shifts. he pulls out with a wet squelch and watches with half-lidded eyes as thick, pearly globs of cum trickle down your slit. he grins lazily at the sight before turning you around.

you’re completely fucked out, it seems. your chest is heaving and your eyes are barely open. the trails of tears and drool on your face tells the man enough. toji wipes a stray strand of hair from your face with a haughty chuckle, “damn, keheh, fucked y’ real good. you okay though?”

you weakly nod in response before wrapping your arms around him. your hands rest on his broad back, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

toji hums and hugs you back, being careful not to squish you under his weight. he presses chaste kisses to your temple as he enjoys your frame molding perfectly against the hard muscles of his body.

“y’ did so well for me, little girl,” he comments gruffly, voice deep and a bit hoarse. you smile at the praise and murmur a small ‘thanks’. nothing is better than being able to feel safe with your lover after an intense session like that.

you pull back a bit and look up at toji with a little, playful grin. “guess i need to challenge you more often. felt too good, babe.”

toji lets out a small scoff and shakes his head. a ghost of a smirk appears on his lips as he slightly pinches your side. he holds you against his chest and buries his nose into your hair, sighing as he finally relaxes his weary body.

“y’ can try. might break ya for real next time, though.”

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[readwritealldayallnight]

(18+ MDNI)

As far as roommates go, Simon Riley isn’t a bad one to live with

Rarely in the flat, gone for weeks at a time, you sometimes forgot you even shared the rent with someone when you first moved in

And when he is around, he keeps out of your way, tidies up after himself, will offer to run to the shop when you’re running low on something for tonight’s dinner

All in all, you get along well

Especially after a few months go by, and he starts sinking his cock into you whenever he’s home

Every chance he gets, he’s got your ankles resting over his shoulders, or your legs locked around his waist, or your tits in his mouth, or your ass squeezed between his fingers or your hips against his as he bounces you or-

Once he’s had his first taste, Simon is insatiable, never not fucking you every opportunity he gets

He has you feeling like you’re on top of the world, while simultaneously about to tip over the edge of it at any moment

Your time spent together consists of bursts of pleasure and passion tangled together in a mess of limbs and lips, visions of scars and tattoos clouding your dreams at night

And while these rendezvous consist strictly of an outlet for stress, a means to an end that leaves you both more than satisfied, you can’t help the slowly blossoming feelings growing in your chest that whisper to you that you might mean something more to him, that you might just be something more to Simon

It’s on one such occasion, while Simon is balls deep inside you, about to put an end to his teasing and let you finally cum on his cock, when reality slaps you hard across the face

Your moans and whines, his grunts and gasps, combined with the sounds of skin slapping repeatedly, are nearly loud enough to drown out the ill-fated sound of his cell phone ringing from the pocket of his discarded jeans

“Simon, please! I- I’m so- Si, I’m close, I’m close! I’m gon-” You moan into his ear, ankles locked tight around his waist and fingernails scratching at the exposed skin of his back, pleading with him to deliver you the ecstasy you’ve been promised

Your begging comes to a stop however, when his own movements halt entirely, hips stilling against yours as pauses, looking back into your eyes though his mind is obviously suddenly elsewhere

“What are y-”

“Shh.” He shushes you all too quickly, just in time for the faint ring of his phone to reach both your ears

“Simon, wait. No! Can’t we-”

“That’s gonna be work.” He grunts out, sweaty palms slipping down your thighs towards your calves to try and disentangle himself from you

“So? It can’t wait 60 seconds? We were about to-”

“Doesn’ matter.”

“Are- are you serious right now?” You question, stunned by his reaction. In all the months you and Simon have been falling into bed together, he’s never told you what his work is, and you’ve learned not to ask him anymore

He pays his rent on time and contributes to the grocery runs, how he earns his money hasn’t been any of your business thus far, but it’s certainly never gotten in the way of your escapades before

Simon’s apparently decided he doesn’t need to entertain you with a response, because he’s pulling himself out or your embrace without a word, standing off the bed and pulling his cell out of his haphazardly thrown pants before the ringer ends

“Simon! What kind of job-”

“Alrigh’?” Is all he says into the phone, nodding along momentarily to whoever is on the other line, before he’s affirming something or another and hanging up, tugging his pants back on without so much as a glance back at your naked form sprawled out on the bed in shock

“Simon-”

“See ye when I’m back, birdie.”

And with that, Simon is out of your room, out of the flat, out of your life for who knows how long, a reoccurring event you should have grown used to by now, but never has he left you high and dry like this before

That was the day you learned, as special as you might feel when Simon is grinding against you, caressing your skin and grunting sweet nothings into your ear, you were not Simon’s priority

You would always come second

[ofbatsandballads]

have a little Jason drabble inspired by me going to my work bestie’s bachelorette party tonight. yes, yes I did imagine all this while getting ready and what about it? also consider this a part of my jason gets the girl series.

Jason Todd is a worrier. You knew that the very first night you met him when he automatically assumed that you, a woman living alone and wearing fuzzy pajamas, would be a danger to him. You know that now by his incessant questions that he’s been pelting at you for the past hour.

“You’ll keep in contact with me, right?” he asks from the other side of the shower curtain.

“Of course, Jay,” you reply as you twist like a contortionist while shaving your legs.

“I know it’s a bachelorette party, but please don’t drink so much that you don’t know what’s goin’ on around you, baby,” he says, voice raised so you can hear him over your hair dryer.

“I know, Jay. I’ve not forgotten where we live!” you shout back as reassuringly as you can.

“You sure I can’t convince ya to stay here with me?” he asks, only half joking, as you flip through the hangers in your shared closet looking for what to wear.

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” you concede as he kisses down your neck. “But no. Alas, I cannot be a shitty friend.”

“Fine. But at least wear somethin’ that goes with the jacket I got you,” he grumbles.

You laugh under your breath. This man. He’s such a worry wart. But you get it. Jason goes out every night into the belly of the beast, sees the worst of the worst. He knows what happens to vulnerable young women in this city, and you can’t blame him for his overprotective nature. So if wearing the tan leather jacket, a smaller replica of the one he wears as Red Hood, that has a tracker sewn into the interior is what he needs to ease his anxious mind, you’ll do it without complaint.

“It’s a gorgeous jacket, Jaybear. It goes with everything,” you say as you scratch soothingly at his scalp.

“You know where you’ll be tonight?” he asks from the foot of your bed, watching you as you put on your makeup.

“Uh huh. We’re not going to any bars or clubs or anything like that. Maid of honor just rented a penthouse in the Diamond District. We’ll probably spend the night eating pizza and drinking cocktails,” you answer as you try not to stab yourself in the eye with your mascara wand.

Jason makes a little grunt of agreement. You idly think that he sounds just like his dad, but you also don’t say that because you’re not a complete idiot. Also because you once told Jason he looked like Bruce and how miraculous that was since he was adopted, and he spent the next three days mumbling 'don't look anythin’ like the old man’ every time he glanced in a mirror.

You glance behind you in the vanity mirror to see the love of your life. His expression tugs your heartstrings. He looks so…melancholy. Emotions are storming in his sea green eyes and all you want is to ease his worries. You lay down your makeup brush and pad over to him, settling down in his lap. His hands come up automatically to rest on your hips, thumbs stroking over the softness.

“What’s wrong, angel?” you whisper, smoothing out the creases between his furrowed eyebrows with the tips of your fingers.

“I don’t—” he stops abruptly, tries to find the words he needs. “I’m not tryin’ to be overbearing. Don’t wanna be one of those guys that tells their girl what to do.”

He takes a breath and you stay silent. He has to get this out and you’ll wait as long as it takes.

“I just…worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t,” and his voice breaks like stained glass. “I wouldn’t survive it. I know this is fuckin’ stupid. Me actin’ like this over a bachelorette party but I just…I can’t stop thinkin’ about all the things that could happen.”

Oh. Oh, your sweet, loving, heaven sent boyfriend. You know his past haunts him, that this city haunts him. You wish you could take all his worries away and wrap him in a nice warm blanket. You’d tuck him away from the world, keep him safe and happy and cared for all his days if you could.

“Jason, look at me,” you tilt his head up with your fingers under his jaw. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to be as safe as possible. I won’t drink irresponsibly. I’ll make sure to text you if anything, and I mean anything, starts to get weird. It won’t, but if it did you would be on speed dial. And trust me, angel, I have no intentions of staying the night.”

You don’t. Good friend or not, you can’t sleep well if you’re not wrapped in the strong arms of the man beneath you.

“So I expect you to be waiting on that tricked out bike of yours to pick me up,” you beam at him, run your hand through his hair because you know it makes him melt into your touch.

“I’ll be waitin’ for you,” he says, a solemn promise that extends far beyond tonight.

“Good. Now that being said, I will be bringing home all the dick decorations because I wanna plant them in your brother’s apartment. Just to fuck with him,” you giggle.

Jason lights up for the first time tonight. His green eyes gleam with mischief and adoration.

“Oh, you are my fuckin’ soulmate, baby. I’ll help you break in.”

[leaderwonim]

❀﹐𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis: in which married couple park sunghoon and park y/n are on their way to court to divorce when they suddenly get into a car crash, losing their memories entirely. over time, they start to fall inlove with each other all over again.

genre: angst, exes to lovers + strangers to lovers (ynhoon are soulmates your honor!!) fluff

“You are the most immature person I have ever met!” You shout, “I should’ve never married you in the first place!”

“Finally, something we can both agree on.” Sunghoon seethes, and you just know the taxi driver is uncomfortable by the way he’s awkwardly looking in the car mirror.

The both of you crossed your arms stubbornly, huffing like little children who just threw a tantrum.

The only reason why you and Sunghoon were getting a divorce in the first place was because he was so busy at his office, inheriting the CEO position from his father just months earlier.

You felt lonely, and it really didn’t help that Sunghoon didn’t give you any reassurance because he was too tired.

“Aish, why is this red light taking so long?” Sunghoon angrily mumbles underneath his breath.

“Well maybe it’s your negative energy.”

“Can you be mature once in your life?” Sunghoon snaps back.

The taxi driver, very annoyed with the both of you, continues driving when the light turns green.

Then all of a sudden, a car rams through the intersection, crashing directly into the taxi.

You scream, and Sunghoon instantly puts his arms around your frame, shielding you.

Then, all goes black.

For a second, you could see the day that you and Sunghoon got married.

It was a Sunday, at the beautiful church nearby Sunghoon’s parents house, and you were wearing what Sunghoon called the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. It was plain white, but long and so beautifully designed that it didn’t need any other colors.

When you arrived at the altar, Sunghoon had bursted into tears. Some of his friends, Jake, who had traveled all the way from Australia to attend, patted the boy on back as comfort.

That day was nonetheless the happiest day of your life. You don’t know if Sunghoon feels the same, and looking back, it feels like such a shame that you’re throwing it all down the drain.

❀﹐

BLEEP. BLEEP.

Your body jolts awake, head practically killing you with the amount of ache it produced as you tried to sit up.

“Patient is up!” The nurse says before walking into your room with a tray. “Good morning, are you feeling okay?”

You raise your hands to touch your head, which was bandaged by some soft tissue material.

“Where am I?” You say, looking around the room. You spot a unknown man groggily getting up, and for a second, you can’t help but notice how handsome he was.

That was besides the point, though.

“You’re in the hospital.” The nurse says, smiling softly. “Do you remember the events leading up to this?”

“I.. I don’t remember anything, actually.”

The nurse still smiles at you reassuringly. “It’s alright lovebug, it seems as though you two have lost your memories.”

“Us two?” You question.

“Yes.” She points to the guy on the other bed right next to you who just looked like he woke up from death. He too looked badly injured like you, having a broken hand and bandage around his head. “Park Sunghoon-ssi was in the same car as you and got injured as well.”

Park Sunghoon. Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Well since you're both awake," she said, relief evident in her voice. "You've been in an accident. Do you remember anything Sunghoon-ssi?”

Sunghoon shook his head slowly. "No... I don't remember anything."

The nurse nodded, sympathy in her eyes. “It's not uncommon for victims to lose their memories after a traumatic accident. Memory loss can be temporary. Just focus on resting for now.”

The nurse leaves the room, leaving you and Sunghoon alone.

“She said we were in the same car together,” you say slowly. “But I really can’t remember what you are to me.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Me either. All I remember vividly is my parents. You must’ve been an acquaintance of mine, then.”

You nod, stretching your limbs. “You got more injured than me.”

He lets out an airy chuckle, lifting his broken arm which was in a cast into the air. “Yep, broken arm.”

You want to remember so badly what had happened leading up to all of this. What were you doing? Where were you going, and why were you with this Park Sunghoon guy in the first place?

“What did you get for breakfast?”

Sunghoon breaks the silence between the two of you, and you slowly look down at the tray in front of your bed.

“Uh, the nurse got me tiramisu and oatmeal.”

“Tiramisu?” Sunghoon’s mood automatically brightens up. “Can we please switch sweets? I really love tiramisu.”

You laugh at his childlike behavior, but nod anyway. “I’ll bring it to you Sunghoon, wait.”

You don’t know why, but it feels so right saying his name. Sunghoon must’ve felt the same way, because he swore his mouth went dry at you calling out his name.

You carefully make your way out your hospital bed, making sure not to accidentally detach any monitors that were attached to you. Grabbing the tiramisu cup, you make your way over to Sunghoon, who’s already shaking in excitement.

Then you make your way back, opening the lid of your oatmeal bowl.

“I may not know what happened in the accident,” Sunghoon says. “But I know this tiramisu is so fucking good.”

You shake your head, laughing at his words. “Yah Sunghoon, you think we were best friends before all of this?”

“Maybe.” He mutters, the mascarpone cheese of the tiramisu leaving a mark on the side of his lips.

“Well our humor is alike.” You say. “Would explain why we were in the same car together. Maybe we were going out to lunch.”

The rest of the day was spent with Sunghoon and you cracking jokes then and there, the awkwardness of the two of you being strangers quickly faded.

❀﹐

The next day, you were given tiramisu once again while Sunghoon was given cookies.

You descended from your bed, once again, and gave the tiramisu cup to Sunghoon while you grabbed his bag of cookies.

“You know what’s funny?” You say, biting into the warm chocolate chip cookie.

“What?” He says, although it’s muffled from the amount of tiramisu he’s stuffed into his mouth.

“Yah, you gotta stop doing that, it’s gross.”

Sunghoon sticks his tongue out at you, which makes you giggle.

“We’re both Parks, isn’t that funny?”

“Huh,” Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, thinking for a brief second. “Park Sunghoon and Park Y/N. That is funny.”

Maybe both of your humors are broken because you hit your head too hard during the crash, but even though you were at the hospital, you’re glad you have someone like Sunghoon to keep you company.

“Do you want to watch the stars with me tonight at the balcony?” You ask the boy, who nods softly.

“I’d love to, actually.”

And that’s what the two of you did. By the time it hit 10pm, you two tiptoed out to the balcony, making sure to not let any of the night nurses see you.

“Whoaaa, it’s beautiful.” Sunghoon says, letting his broken arm lean against the railing. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

You smile, leaning your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

“Sunghoon.” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure what we were before the accident,” you stop for a second. “But I’m glad we knew each other.”

Sunghoon turns his head to look down at your face, his expression morphed into a genuine smile. “I’m glad we knew each other too Y/N.”

That night, you slept the most compared to the other nights at the hospital. In your dreams, you see Sunghoon—only instead of being at the hospital bed right beside you, he’s in the kitchen, wearing a black suit.

“You look nice today.”

“Thank you baby.” Sunghoon leans down to give you a kiss on the lips. “Is that tiramisu?”

You nod, your eyes full of love. “Of course, you’ve been working so hard so I decided to make your favorite.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, letting the two of you swing back and forth slowly. “Thank you my love, I seriously don’t know what I would do without you.”

You woke up in a cold sweat, the dream feeling all too real.

“What’s wrong?” Sunghoon says, and you swore your heart almost leaped out of your chest, not expecting the brunette boy to be awake.

“It’s 2am, why are you even awake?” You say croakily, hands coming to rub your tired eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs. “Hey, I had a really weird dream just now.”

“Me too.” You say, “you were in it.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t further question it. “You were a lawyer in my dream, you just graduated from Seoul University. We bought a house, and you told me you wanted to continue with your career.”

At least his dream was somewhat normal, you think. I can’t just tell him I dreamt of us being together and being all lovey dovey. He’d be thrown into a coma!

“Ah, mine was similar.”

Nice save Y/N.

Sunghoon suddenly gets up from his bed, deciding to sit at the dining table the nurses had brought out for the two of you yesterday night.

“Come sit with me.”

You slowly creep out of your bed, sitting on the empty seat next to Sunghoon.

Suddenly, you’re hit with a sudden pounding headache.

“You’re the worst, Sunghoon!” You scream on the top of your lungs, “I hate you! I hate you!”

“Stop screaming!” He grabs your arms gently, eyes directly looking into yours. “Y/N-ah, stop it.”

“So I’m Y/N to you now?” Your voice breaks. “No more baby or love? Am I just another person to you Sunghoon?”

“Of course not, why would you say that?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep inhale. “Let’s just talk about this calmly, okay?”

“What’s there to talk about? You are never home, you’re always cooped up in your office! We might as well get a divorce!”

Sunghoon’s hold on your shoulder makes you snap out of your daze.

“Hey, you okay?” He says concernedly, “you were breathing heavily.”

“What?” You gasp. “Yeah—yeah, I’m okay. I just think I had a flashback.”

“Really? What was it?”

You don’t want to tell Sunghoon that it was the two of you fighting. Why did you even mention divorcing in the flashback? Were you and Sunghoon something more than just friends?

“Just the crash.” You say. You want to tell him the truth, you really do, but you’re not sure if these were hallucinations from how hard your head was hit during the trauma or if they were actual flashbacks.

“Well, I’m here.” Sunghoon whispers reassuringly. “I’ll always be here. We survived a car crash together anyway, we’re kinda bonded to each other.”

You laugh, smacking him on his shoulder softly. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

❀﹐

“Do you remember what your passion was before all of this?” Sunghoon asks, peeling his orange with his injured hand.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you say, “l think I really would’ve liked becoming a mother. I love kids, the thought of them makes me happy.”

“I think you would be a great mother.” Sunghoon says quietly. “Even though we don’t know each other much, I can tell you’re loving.”

You look down at your lap, trying to suppress the bright smile forming at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks Hoonie.”

“Hoonie?”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry! Did I make you uncomfortable? I should’ve not—”

“It’s okay Y/N,” he chuckles. “It’s fine. I like it.”

You can’t help but laugh along with him. “Okay.”

The next few days go by quickly, with you and Sunghoon already warming up to each other.

You were both comfortable enough to speak your thoughts freely around one another, no matter how silly or ridiculous some of them seemed.

When the nurses brought you two breakfast, Sunghoon almost dropped his fork in shock.

“They gave me tiramisu.” He says, eyes glistening with joy. “They finally gave me tiramisu.”

“I don’t know why you’re so excited.” You snicker jokingly. “You’ve been eating my tiramisu this entire week.”

He turns around to look at your tray, which had a bag of snickerdoodle cookies on it.

With shaking limbs, he makes his way over, handing the tiramisu cup to you and swapping it with your cookies.

“I thought you hated snickerdoodle cookies, Hoon?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“I do.” He admits. “But you’ve given me your tiramisu all week, I wanted you to have mine this time.”

Your heart swells at that, and you point your spoon at him accusingly.

“Yah, is this because you want my chocolate pudding at dinner?” You joke.

“Pffft, what? Nooo.” He quickly defends himself. “But if you’re willing to share—”

“Shut up Park Sunghoon!”

“Yes ma’am!”

❀﹐

You don’t know why, but you’re starting to feel giddy whenever you talk with Sunghoon.

Your palms does this thing where it sweats profusely, and your tongue feels like dried sandpaper.

There’s no way you like Park Sunghoon, right? You’ve barely known the guy for two weeks, so why was the heart racing at the thought of him?

“I’ve convinced the nurses to get us two bottles of coca cola,” Sunghoon says, practically jumping up and down as he entered the room.

“Really? Out of all the drinks you could’ve persuaded them to get us, you got us coke.”

“Don’t diss Coca Cola like that!” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms.

Just like Sunghoon had said, the nurse approaches the two of you an hour later, 2 bottles of coca cola in her hands. She hands one to Sunghoon, then to you.

"Enjoy." She says, smile reaching her eyes.

Sunghoon's eyes light up when he opens the bottle and takes a sip. "Ah, for some reason, this feels so nostalgic."

A little memory pops up in his head, one of him playing at the park with his mom and younger sister.

"Sunghoon-oppa! Mom says she brought us coca cola!" The young girl, Yeji, says. "C'mon! Come with me!"

The young Park Sunghoon lets his younger sister take his hand, running towards their mom who was on the other side of the park.

"What's wrong Sunghoon-ssi?" You ask, noticing how his thick eyebrows were furrowed and his grip on the bottle had tightened.

"Huh?"

"You zoned out for a bit."

He chuckles nervously, glancing around the room. "Sorry, I think I just had a flashback." He says. "Park Yeji."

"Who?"

"My younger sister." He explains. "I could see her clearly. I wonder where she is right now."

You too wondered where your family was. Maybe they were too busy to come visit you. You could briefly remember having a younger brother. Jungwon. Yang Jungwon.

"Cheers." He says, mood changing quickly. His canines shined brightly as he smiled, making him look all too gorgeous in your eyes. "To the car crash, for bringing me and Park Y/N together."

You giggle, raising your bottle in the air. "Cheers to the car crash, for bonding me with this weird guy named Sunghoon."

"Yah!"

❀﹐

"Is it weird?"

"Hm?"

It's 11pm, and you and Sunghoon face each other as you're both laying on opposite ends of the room.

"That we've known each other for only a few weeks and I already feel like I've known you for an entire lifetime?"

You smile at his words, shaking your head. "No, I feel the same way Hoonie."

"Would it be stupid to say out loud how much I want to kiss you right now?"

Your mouth almost drops at his boldness, but you quickly shake your head.

Sunghoon takes your silence as approval, sitting up to come over to your side.

He brushes the hair away from your face, leaning in to close the gap between your lips.

When the both of you pull away, you automatically lean in again, the feel of his lips on yours felt so right.

"I love you Sunghoon." You say as you cup his cheeks. "I don't want to fight anymore."

"I know," he whispers. "I love you. Cause even though we were both going down, we were going down together."

"I hate you." You say, a smile playing on your face. "I hate you for being the only person who I can't stay mad at."

"And I love you," he says. "For being there for me, always."

"Sunghoon."

"Hm?"

"I love you."

He smiles down at you, uninjured hand coming to hold yours. "I love you too."

❀﹐

"What?" You say flabbergasted.

The next morning was the date of both yours and Sunghoon's discharge, and both your families decided to come visit.

"You two were married." Your father explains, a bewildered expression on his face. "How could you not know? Was the Park Y/N not obvious?"

"I thought that was just my last name!" You say, defending yourself.

"Your last name is Yang, noona." Your little brother speaks up. It was Jungwon, the same boy you kept seeing in your flashbacks, only this time, his face looks more clear and matured. "It was before you married Sunghoon-hyung."

"You're telling me we got married and divorced?" Sunghoon says, stuttering over his own words.

"Yes son," Sunghoon's mother explains. "Well, not quite exactly. We don't know why you guys wanted to divorce, you kind of shut yourselves out when you were arguing. You didn't officially divorce yet, you got into an accident on the way to court."

That made so much sense now. The flashbacks of arguments between you and Sunghoon, the makeups after the arguments, the cute moments, everything. It started to all click in your head.

"You still share houses and everything, the lawyers had to put your case on hold because you were both hospitalized." Jungwon says. "We were here to pick you up separately, in case you weren't comfortable staying with each other."

"It's fine." You and Sunghoon both say at the same time.

"Are you sure honey?" Sunghoon's mom asks concernedly.

"Yes mom, I'm sure."

The drive home was awkward, you both drove in different cars but to the home you had bought before the accident happened.

"Noona," Jungwon calls out to you. Your parents are still in the car, looking at the scene in front of them.

"Yes Jungwon?"

"Listen, I may not know a lot about love," he says, "but I know what you and Sunghoon-hyung have is real. I could still see somewhere in his eyes that he remembers parts of you and he still loves you whether or not his memories came back or not. I could tell you love him too. I don't know why the two of you decided to divorce but I know you called me crying hysterically because of it. I just think you two needed to talk it out, without the lawyers, without the paperwork. You two are the two most stubborn people I know, but also the two most loving people I know, you wouldn't just leave each other like that."

You want to cry at your younger brother's words, tears already leaking from your eyes. "Thank you Won."

You reach your arms out to hug him, a hug that he instantly melts into. "I love you noona."

"I love you too."

❀﹐

"This isn't what we expected, huh?" Sunghoon says, leaning his head on the marble island in the middle of your kitchen. "This whole time I thought you were my best friend, turns out you were my soon to be ex-wife."

You laugh quietly at the irony of the whole situation. "Whatever we were in the past is in the past Hoon."

He nods. "I can't believe we were going to divorce."

"I can't believe it either."

"You know what my mom told me in the car?" Sunghoon sits up straight to look at you. "The reason I have a broken arm and you don't was because during the crash, I put my arms around yours to protect you. Isn't that funny? Even though we hated each other at that moment, my first instinct was to protect you."

You stay still at that, his words sinking into your brain.

"It's like the universe wanted us to be together." You say quietly.

"Hey Y/N?"

You turn around to face Sunghoon. "Yeah?"

"I'm glad I married you."

Even though you and Sunghoon aren't sure where you stand in terms of relationship, all you know is that you love him, and that is enough for the both of you.

[euthymiya]

“What’s got you so grumpy?”

Sukuna dodges your finger. It fails to meet its destination of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, earning a frown from you before you huff and try again.

He looks up from his phone with an irritated glance when your fingertip digs into his face.

“What are you talking about?” He grunts.

He knows exactly what you’re talking about. Normal Sukuna is irritable enough—grumpy Sukuna is about as bad tempered as a hornet who’s had its nest kicked. (Which is to say: he’s pretty fucking unfriendly at the moment.)

“You’re sulking,” you point out—and that statement earns a sharp glare from him as you seat yourself on his lap. (Still, he makes room easily for you, leaning back on the couch and putting his phone down to the side so his hands can rest on your hips. Grumpy Sukuna is never grumpy enough to push your body away—if anything, it’s the one way to get him less agitated).

“I’m not fucking sulking,” he says. It’s almost petulant, but you have enough grace to spare his dignity and not point it out. “I don’t sulk.”

“Are you sure?” You raise a disbelieving brow—he clicks his teeth at the way you choose to question him, but it softens considerably when your lips peck his jaw delicately. “You look pretty sulky to me.”

“Get your eyes checked.”

“Can’t. Then I might see you for all your ugliness. We wouldn’t want to throw years down the drain once I come to my senses do we?”

It’s his turn to raise a brow, sarcastically snorting as you give him a cheeky wink. “If you wanna try ‘n be a smart ass, at least be realistic about it. Saw you checking me out just this morning through the mirror.”

“Maybe you need your eyes checked,” you huff, “I was not checking you out.”

“Pretty sure you were,” he smirks, lips pulling into a haughty grin. Getting under your skin with his smugness is about the only way to cheer him up, it seems, because he looks rather pleased when he adds, “it’s okay. Don’t blame ya for bein’ possessed by my impressive physique.”

“Too bad your personality isn’t as dazzling,” you quip back easily.

It’s meant to be lighthearted, of course—but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Quite wrong, in fact, because as soon as the words escape you, he tenses before locking his jaw.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in Sukuna’s face—doubt. It’s a little odd, in all realness. Sukuna is not a doubtful person. He’s confident, and he’s confident enough that it’s almost to a fault. He’s cocky and smug and sometimes a little too self-assured for it to be considered good for his health.

It’s a bit unsettling to see his face almost fall at something you say, especially when you just say it for the sake of light banter.

“Yeah?” He chuckles dryly. It sounds dangerously self-deprecating—enough that it makes you frown. “Good thing I have my abs to keep you glued to my side then, huh?”

“Well, it’s not just your abs,” you hum, one hand smoothing over his shirt to feel the ridges of his muscles through the shirt. “Your boobs are pretty great, too.”

To prove your point, you give his left pectoral a gentle squeeze. He scowls before shoving your hand away as blush creeps along the back of his neck.

“You fucking freak,” he mutters.

Something is bothering him. You know you can’t directly ask it out of him, otherwise he’ll deny it left and right, but something is bothering him. Sukuna is not good with words or emotions. In fact, he’s pretty awful at anything that has to do with anyone’s feelings. (He’s better about yours more than other’s, but he’s pretty far from good.)

You don’t mind. There’s something oddly charming about witnessing the way he navigates softening up for you—it’s like watching a baby take their first steps. Wobbly. Slow. Unsure. Pretty badly executed, but endearingly rewarding all at the same.

Except, this time, it’s not your emotions he’s navigating. For some reason, yours are easy than his own. Navigating yours means he doesn’t have to try. He knows you better than he knows himself. Knows when your feelings are hurt by the twitch of your brows alone. Knows you’re sad by the dimness in your eyes. Knows you’re pretending joy when your laugh is quieter than usual. Knows you’re faking it when your smile is a much more tight lipped and a less bright version.

But his own feelings are complicated. A lot more than he cares to try and understand them for. In true Sukuna fashion, he always aims to ignore his problems until they seemingly disappear.

But you’re too difficult to let that slide. He brushes things under the rug, and you pull the rug from under his feet and make him fall face first into his problems.

“Hey,” you nudge him, cupping his face with your hand gently, “what’s gotten into you? It’s weird when you’re not pissing me off a couple of times every hour.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” He challenges, like your words seem to tick him off more, “what are you sittin’ here for if I’m always pissing you off?”

Oh, you think. So that’s what it is.

You smile, humming before you gently tilt his face up. Something vulnerable is attached to that frown of his. Like he’s waiting for your answer because he needs something to hold onto. Some metaphorical lifeline where your feelings are attached to his own, just to keep you chained together. Where you’re always somewhere that he also is. Where he doesn’t have to care about his emotions because what you feel is what he feels, too, and as long as you’re okay, so is he.

But you care. You seem to care a pretty great deal because you lean in and brush your nose against his as you kiss his lips softly.

“Who cares if you piss me off?” You snort, “I piss you off better. I’m pretty good at it.”

“You are,” he agrees instantly.

You give him a fleeting huff against his mouth as you mumble, “you don’t have to agree so fast.”

It pulls a small laugh from him, making his arms snake around your waist and tug your body closer. Chest to chest, heartbeat thumping in two, synchronized rhythms.

“What happens when I’m all old and expiring and my abs are gone?” He raises a brow. You hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek as you smile and admire him.

“We’ll still be pissing each other off, I bet.”

“That’s supposed to be good?” He repeats, this time much more unsure. Anyone else could hardly catch the air of hesitance in his words, but you catch it instantly.

“Why not?” You shrug, “it always worked for us, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’s until it doesn’t.” He spits the words out, not meeting your eyes. It’s like they taste acrid is mouth and he can’t bring himself swallow them down.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you lean in and just press a line of kisses from his chin to the corner of his lips, purposely dodging his mouth and littering small, delicate pecks along his cheek. And then his forehead. And then the bridge of his nose.

Never his lips, though. And he gets increasingly frustrated by it.

“What are you waiting for?” He grumbles, eyeing you with a look that screams: quit fucking around.

You fight back an amused smile. “Does it piss you off?”

“Course it does. Kiss me properly or back off my face—”

“Cause you love me right?” You ask cheekily. He pauses, thinking on it for a moment before slumping wearily.

“And if I do?”

“You piss me off too. Because I love you too,” you whisper, forehead against his as your hands cradle his cheeks. Because you do.

When he texts late, and makes your blood boil, it’s only because you love him. When he’s brutally honest and doesn’t say what you want to hear, you’re only mad because you care what he thinks so much. When he’s stubborn and refuses to meet you halfway, you’re only angry because there’s no one else you’d rather cross the bridge with than him.

He pisses you off. You care enough to be pissed because it’s him. And when you piss him off too, he cares enough to deal with it because it’s you.

It’s a funny, twisted little way to love and be loved, but it works. For some odd reason, it does. It’s a seamless, smooth, crackless road.

You don’t ever fix something that’s not broken.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he sighs, resigning himself to your weird, roundabout explanation. You laugh, pinching his cheek as you grin brightly.

“That’s because you’re a bit dim.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. I love you.”

He pauses. Swallows for a moment before his arms tighten their grip on your hips just a smidge before burying his face into your neck and mumbling, “me too. Love you so much, it pisses me off.”

“I like to get under your skin like that,” you stroke his hair, beaming as you add, “guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

His lips stretch into a small grin before a low, rumbling chuckle breathes itself against your skin. “Guess so.”

————————

a/n: insecure modern! au sukuna who doesn’t admit it and refuses to acknowledge that he’s aware he’s difficult to love and can’t understand why you love him but he also doesn’t want to question it for fear of scaring you away is very near and dear to me and i’ll be talking about it from my grave still. you’ll just hear my ghostly voice spooking you through the night talking about how he’s a softie deep down under all the layers. like an ogre okay? ogres have LAYERS.

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

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[majestyeverlasting]

Hello there! :) If I may, I’d like to request a Joel miller x reader ⇩

something where the reader is experiencing a migraine (headache + nausea and all that) and Joel tries calling her all day while he’s out and when he gets home he finds her asleep in pitch black room and realises what’s wrong, but knows exactly how to comfort his girl? 🥰

*im sorryyy if that’s long or weirdly specific it’s just something I’ve been struggling with lately and I need some comfort about it don’t mind me😻)*

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary Joel comes home to find that you’re suffering from a migraine in bed. Luckily, he’s helped you through this once or twice. [no outbreak, hurt/comfort, fluff, 1.8k]. 

A/N Thanks for this request! I promise it's not weird at all. In my head, this is Joel and reader from here with you. 

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Joel (8:57 AM) Sorry I missed you this morning, didn’t wanna wake you. Have a good day. -J

Joel (11:02 AM) Checking in. You up and at em yet? 

Joel (2:34 PM) Everything okay? Call you in a bit. -J

Still nothing from you. Joel locks his phone and rests his forearms on his legs. 

Today is the warmest day all week. Getting to ditch the extra layer is nice. Tommy shields his eyes from the sun as he exits a prim house with a spotless driveway and plush lawn. Beside it is another perfect lot, and another, and another, arranged around the whole cul-de-sac. He and Joel had been contracted to do a kitchen upgrade for the new homeowners and were in the process of working through the finishing touches.

From his seated position on the curb, Joel looks over his shoulder as footsteps approach. Tommy draws his leg back like he plans to kick him, and snickers when he leans out the way.

“Watch yourself,” Joel warns.

“Or what?” A smirk pulls at Tommy’s lips. “I’ll lay your old ass out on this asphalt.”

Joel shakes his head as Tommy sits down beside him with a grunt. A comfortable silence settles between them, and Joel fights the urge to check his phone even though it hasn’t buzzed. Tommy notices the slight tension in his shoulders but chalks it up to wanting to be done for the day. After the owners did their final walkthrough tomorrow, a three-day weekend awaited.

A cool breeze rolls through as Tommy stretches his legs out in front of himself, his jeans peppered with dust and dried specks of white paint. When he takes a swig from the bottle he walked outside with, Joel’s squints at the label, his interest piqued.

“Kombucha?” he says with furrowed brows.

Tommy nods as he swallows. “Sarah put me on,” he says after wiping his mouth. “Helps with your gut. Something like that.”

“A few crunches should do the trick,” Joel mutters.

Tommy snorts and elbows him. “Right back at you, smartass.” Joel huffs a breath at that. “Hey, what do you think about going fishing this weekend—Saturday maybe?”

When his brother doesn’t respond, he knocks his knee against his. “Anybody home?”

Joel straightens up in hopes of making his anxiety less evident. Except, he wears it like a second skin. To deny it would be to deny himself.

“What time you think we’ll be done today?” The break they carved out just started, but it’s his roundabout way of suggesting they get back to work. There wasn’t too much left to do if they locked in—some additional caulking, sealing, and polishing.

Tommy shakes his head as he calculates. “Three-thirty, four?” Then he narrows his eyes at Joel. “You’ve been sitting funny since I walked out here…”

Joel’s chest puffs with a sigh as he unlocks his phone. The text thread between the two of you is already pulled up, and all three of his messages to you are unanswered. Tommy leans closer to read them and bites his lower lip as the gears start turning in his head.

He decides to draw a little levity in, “You piss her off?” There’s a teasing undertone to his question.

“Don't think so,” Joel says as he shifts. “Gonna give her a call.”

Tommy nods and claps him on the back. “We can get back to work after.”

He heads back inside to give his brother some privacy.

When you don’t answer the phone, Joel leaves a message anyway.

“Hey, sweetheart. Haven’t been able to get through to you, but I’ll be home soon, okay? Four-thirty at the latest…” he pauses to bite his lower lip. “Call me if you get this before I’m there. Love you.”

•••

It’s quiet when he arrives home. Virtually undisturbed. The pillows on the couch are positioned in the exact way they’d been left after last night’s impromptu movie night. The TV remote is in the same place on the coffee table as well. There’s nothing that suggests you’ve been stirring around at all. He walks deeper into the house to find that the kitchen and sunroom are empty too. The late afternoon sun pools in through the window.

When he makes it back around to the staircase, he jogs to the top. The wood creaks beneath his steps.

“Sweetheart?” he calls out. “I’m home. You up here?”

His voice carries to where you’re tucked in bed, but you can’t bring yourself to answer back. Not loud enough for him to hear you, at least. The ache that once pulsed throughout your head has steadied to the point where you don’t want to risk overexerting yourself and tumbling back to square one. Joel would find you anyway. He always did. And he never viewed you or your pain as a burden. He knew how to cradle both, how to ease them without second thought.

Light pours into the bedroom as the door opens slowly. You can make out the outline of his tall, broad frame, and hear the soft sound of his socks against the hardwood as he pads to you in the dark. Thanks to the blackout curtains, there’s hardly any light entering in. Only the smallest slivers.

After his eyes adjust, he can begin to make out the shapes around the room. The red glow of the alarm clock allows him to see your face, your slow-blinking eyes.

Without uttering a word, he gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, then moves it down to rest against your warm cheek. You press into his touch just slightly, and it tugs something awful at his chest. Makes him wish he could bear your pain.

“Migraine,” you murmur.

An apologetic hum vibrates through his chest. “You been like this all day?” he asks softly.

“Got bad at noon.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You weakly reach out for his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. It’s much larger than yours, rugged and calloused, but you’d hold on forever if you could. If he’d let you. With his free hand, he picks up the tumbler bottle on the nightstand to find that it’s light.

“I’m gonna go get you some more water. It’s probably time for some more Advil too.”

The weight of his attentiveness makes you nod like you’re surrendering. And maybe you are giving something up—the burden of the day. Of having to do everything on your own. His fingers tighten around yours in a final squeeze before he lets go.

You shouldn’t miss him in the short time that he’s gone, but you do. It’s the same tug that lingered in your chest all day, but is kinder now that he’s home. Not miles away out of reach. When he comes back, it’s with more than he initially set out for, all of it somehow balanced in his hold. He quietly sets it all on the nightstand.

“You can turn the little lamp on,” you murmur. There was a battery-powered ambient lamp alongside the larger one.

“I’m aces, honey,” he assures. “You wanna sit up for a second, I got your medicine right here.”

You prop yourself up on your forearm and gratefully take it from him. He holds your tumbler to your lips so you can reach the straw to wash it down.

“There ya go,” he praises as you settle back down. “Got a cold pack and some grapes too. Get a little something on your stomach before I get dinner worked out later…” He talks, almost absentmindedly, as he continues to get you situated. But he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s a routine he’s coaxed you through more times than he’d like.

A long hum rises in your throat as he positions the cold pack on the back of your neck. A stark but pleasant chill ripples through your overheated body like slow melting ice. All you can muster is another grateful hum as he sets the small bowl of grapes on the mattress beside you. There’s a crisp, sweet pop as you usher one into your mouth.

“Gonna go grab a quick shower.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he adds lightly.

A small smile pulls at your lips.

•••

An hour. That’s how much later you wake up in his arms with his lips at your shoulder, his strong arm draped around your waist to keep you close. There’d hardly been any words exchanged between you in the moments before then, only confirmations of each other’s comfort and whispered I love you’s. You’d dozed off a couple of times since noon, but nothing comparable to the steady rest that came along with his proximity.

He doesn't realize you’re awake until you shift and reach toward the nightstand. The light of the ambient lamp soon illuminates the room, joined by the glow of your phone a moment later. Joel takes it as a sign you’re feeling better than he found you, and that’s more than enough. The gentle, repetitive tap of your thumb against the screen lets him know you’re going through old notifications.

His hand finds your hip beneath the sheets, where he draws slow, small circles with his thumb. It isn’t long before you lock the device and set it back down.

The sheets rustle as you turn around to face him. Sleep’s haze lingers between you as you trail your fingertips along his jaw in a featherlight brush. The scratch of his beard feels nice, and you continue the motion until you’re unable to stop the fond chuckle that shakes your chest. It’s no more than a quick breath, but Joel smiles shyly anyway.

“What?” he asks, voice a little gruff.

“J,” you murmur with a teasing lilt. “You don’t need to sign your texts. I know already it’s you.” You poke an affectionate finger into his stomach.

His smile grows as he offers a helpless shrug, warmth in his dark eyes. It’s impossible to fight the urge to scoot closer and press the briefest, softest kiss to his lips. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“Tommy had me thinking I might’ve done something to upset you,” he says as he brushes a knuckle across your cheek.

“I’d never ignore you like that.”

Joel knows that, but says, “Except for that one time.”

You frown in confusion, but your mouth falls open in amusement when you realize what he means. “That was a million years ago, and it lasted five minutes—not even that.”

Joel chuckles, and when it triggers you to join him in laughing, you realize that’s all he sought to gain by bringing it up.

“Clearly it left a mark.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the heel of your palm. A smile lingers on his lips as you laugh again.

He then studies your eyes, your nose, your lips. He loves you so much he sometimes wonders how he’s been able to manage it without bursting at the seams.

“You feelin’ a bit better?” he asks after a few quiet beats.

“Much,” you promise.

He kisses your palm again. This time he lets his lips linger.

-

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

more of this couple -> here with you

JOEL MASTERLIST 

GENERAL MASTERLIST   

[osachiyo]

"JUST THE TIP, BABY ! "

❐ content warnings ➩ nsfw (mdni), penetrative sex, teasing, somnophilia, petnames, established relationship, dom!character & sub!reader, full nelson (toji), prone bone (suguru), semi public sex (satoru), unprotected sex (don't do this), whiney satoru etc

❐ author's note ➩ I've been going feral for jjk men, and I find this trope so sexy. anyway, happy reading 'n hope y'all enjoy this <3

❐ summary ➩ your lover promises to only put in just the tip, but will he keep it?

≛ MINORS DNI OR I'LL KICK YO ASS ! ≛

๑ satoru ๑

"please baby− need ya s'bad," your boyfriend whined, rutting his hips into your clothed pussy. You two were on a mission, to defeat some special grade curses. "satoru− we can't! we're outside and on a mi−!" you couldn't even finish your sentence before he was sliding your panties to the side, stroking himself before lining up with your entrance. "please, just the tip− I promise, yeah?" he panted out, desperate to be inside you, staring at you with those ocean blue eyes as he waited for your permission. Once you reluctantly gave him the go-ahead, he slapped the tip of his cock against your clit before slowly pushing into you with a wet 'pop!' Your fingernails dug into his broad shoulders, strong arms propping you against the cold brick wall. "sh-shiit baby, fuuuck," he drawled, resting the urge to just slam into you without warning and fuck your brains out. But he couldn't− he promised he wouldn't.

All thoughts of resistance went out the drain when he looked at your face. Your pretty little face; mouth slightly agape as soft moans and hums escape your glossed lips, brows furrowed slightly as you looked up at him with those hazy eyes of yours. I mean, could you really blame him for slamming into you when you look at him like that? He could feel his eyes slightly roll back as your pussy engulfed him fully, loud and lewd squelching and skin against skin noises bounced off the walls of the alley. Your juices ran down your legs and his balls. God, he was insatiable when it came to you. "you− you said just the− mmh!− tip!" you babbled, hands reaching up to grip and tug at his white hair, some of it sticking to his sweaty forehead. "so sorry, pretty− this pussy's just too fuckin' goood−" he slurred, hips slamming into you as his lips smashed into yours for a messy kiss.

Really, you should've known this would happen.

๑ suguru ๑

His smiles slyly before nodding, knowing from the start that it won't take long before you crumble and beg him to fuck you silly. Snickering when you shyly ask him to put more of it in, impatient and needy for his throbbing cock inside you. He wouldn't admit it, but he's glad, he doesn't think he could stand another minute without fully plunging inside your gummy walls.

You could feel his bangs tickling your back as he presses soft kisses on the dip of your back, all the way to your shoulders before biting hard and slamming all the way into your awaiting cunt. He groaned as his hips were flush against your ass, pulling your head back by the roots of your hair before kissing you roughly. The headboard slammed against the wall with each harsh snap of his hips, abs clenching everytime a filthy noise escaped your parted lips as tears gathered on your lashes. his ravened hair cascaded down his muscular and scarred back, "thought you wanted− haah− just the tip, princess? can't even go by your own− mm yes fuck! juust like that−!" he groaned, rolling his hips against your ass with even more vigour, "can't even go by your own words, princess?" you could hear the grin in his voice, so damn smug, but you were in no position to complain, were you?

๑ toji ๑

you were peacefully reading a book, laying on your stomach− when your giant of a husband laid on top of you, his crotch right against your ass. "whatcha' readin', mama?" he questioned, breath low and gravelly against your ear. "jus' an erotic novel," you hummed, neck snapping to look at him when you felt him grinding shamelessly on your ass, "boooring, and whatcha' need erotic novels for? I'm right fuckin' here," he scoffed, making your eyes roll. "yeah okay, toji. only reading it for the male lead, he's like this god at sex−" you got cut off by your own gasp, as his large hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it lightly, "oh yeah? betcha' 20 bucks I could do better." You pouted, excitement already pooling in your panties, "but, I reaaaally wanna read this." Toji only rolled his eyes, "c'mon baby, y'know I'm more fun than a goddamn book?" "okay, fine... but only the tip, alright?"

Toji was not happy, only getting to feel your pussy clenching on his tip, god you were so stingy! He figures he could just fold you and fuck the living daylights out of you− wait, why isn't he doing that right now?

You could feel him in your throat from how deep he was, a small bulge forming on your lower tummy everytime he thrusted into you ruthlessly. He had you in a full nelson in front of the full view mirror you loved and decorated with your cute little stickers. Heavy breaths of 'atta girl' and 'so fuckin' tight f'me, mama,' slipped out of his scarred lips, your face heating up from the desire in his voice. A palm reached down to smack your pretty pussy, your eyes opening as your gaze landed on his face in the mirror. He was smirking triumphantly, strong arms holding you up with ease, "heh, guess ya owe me 20 bucks now, sweet girl."

๑ kento ๑

Your husband, Nanami questioned his morals when he found himself hiking your nightgown up your thighs in the middle of the night, moonlight seeping in through the opened window, illuminating your features with a gentle glow, and it made him fucking feral.

That's why he had your skimpy little gown bunched up at your waist right now, he already prepped you, eating your pussy out until you gushed in his mouth, he felt too guilty not to, even if you reassured him beforehand that it was okay. He only planned to put the tip in, not wanting to wake you up at 2 am just because he couldn't keep it in his pants− even if he knew that you didn't mind, you never did. But fuck, your walls were clenching and unclenching around him so deliciously and... the next thing he knew, he was ramming into your drooling pussy, jaw clenched as he muttered soft applogies. He buried his face into your neck when you woke with a yelp, moaning and sputtering as you try to process the situation. your pussy was practically drooling and sucking him in eagerly, back arching offt he bed as his thick fingers found your clit, giving it some attention to make you cum on his cock. He smelt like cologne, and still had his work clothes on− letting you know that he came home not too long ago. His cock was hitting your sweet spot with each snap of his hips, gooey cunt swallowing him whole as he let out the most guttural noises, "fuck− sorry for the rude awakening, dear− I couldn't help myself.."

©sachiyoh — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : roommate!hamzah goes bald .. & "we listen and we don't judge"

roommate!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : blurb and smau in which hamzah is bald now and roommate!reader begs him to do the tiktok trend "we listen and we don't judge"

mickey speaks : hiii love u slushies & more of my hamzah works can be found here <3

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

youruser

Liked by kynewman, mandys_iphone, and others

yourusername this lyfe toooooo sweet 💭❤️

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enyaumanzor hi ur so fucking cute • ♥︎ by author

yourusername MUUAHHHHH

mandys_iphone my heart skipped a beat • ♥︎ by author

yourusername can i get a little kiss kiss?

thatmartinkid Uh well no cus she's actually my Girlfriend 🤓!

yourusername omg go somewhere else lil boy !!!!!

ynfan ooooweeeeee i needed this yes lawdd • ♥︎ by author

hamzahandyntruther RIP HAMZAH CURLS and HELLO HAMY/N CONTENT!!!!!! #loserscanalsobewinners 🤔? • ♥︎ by author

hamzahthefantastic mmmbruh • ♥︎ by author

yourusername mmmmokay

•

•

•

--- we listen and we don't judge

you start the video and lean back to get you both in frame, causing hamzah to yelp in panic as he tries to push his beanie down over his head quicker, "wait!" his voice strains and you giggle before cutting the clip.

it cuts to both of you silently staring at the camera before hamzah smirks and makes you both laugh.

"okay this one's serious," you say as you lean back after starting the video once more, entirely overlapping hamzah's space (not that he minds). you grab your notebook from beside you on the couch, "ready?"

hamzah who has been following your movements the entire time, is already looking at you when you look over to him, "girl, i've been ready. you're the one with the giggles"

"the attitude is crazy"

"aht!" he raises a finger while stretching his arm behind you to rest on top of the soft couch, "what do we do?"

you catch on and nod your head with him as you reply together, "we listen and we don't judge"

"right!" he exclaims harshly, catching you off guard, especially when he shakes you by your shoulders slightly. his face drops when you don't laugh and he turns to the camera with his jaw dropped. he shakes his head with a dismissive kiss of his teeth, "wicked reference. you wouldn't get it."

"uh huh, you go first hamzah." he rubs your shoulder before putting his hand back onto the couch to rest.

he clears his throat, "'kay, sometimes when i'm really bored and you're like showering, or something, i move around something in your room. it's like something small you don't notice like switching where a stuffed animal is on your bed or somethin'"

your smile falls the more he speaks, "oh. starting off strong!"

the camera cuts and you're both overly-smiling, "we listen and we don't judge!!"

"when i'm like really hungry..." you look into his eyes, "this is like middle of the night, right, and i'll go into the kitchen and just sneak a bite or two of your leftovers-"

"oh nahhhh, what the hell??? y/n!"

"no! listen! like, if there's nothing else to eat!"

hamzah pouts slightly, "that's just evil, bro"

"you want me to starve? okay, i'll just starve next time and you'll be sorry!"

"no i won't" he squints his eyes, "and don't start that gaslightin-"

the clip cuts to you both excitedly repeating, "we listen and we don't judge!"

"well sometimes when you get home late from hanging out with people i'll hop in bed and fake being asleep because i like it when you sit there and harass me to wake up," he smiles menacingly.

"ew, you're a freak! you like when i beg for your attention???" you question while laughing.

"well yes!"

"we listen and we don't judge!"

"i hid your contacts for like three days once because i thought you looked cute with your glasses on" you say it with a smile as if it wasn't such a devious act.

"what?" hamzah turns to laugh at you, "pardon???"

"we listen and we don't judge."

"well, i got really drunk once and peed in your bathtub."

your face is still before you blink and look at him with a smile threatening to split, "when was this??"

"uhhhh, i dunno. i think like a month or two ago, but martin was using your toilet and i literally couldn't hold it-"

"so you pissed in my tub with martin stood inches away?"

hamzah begins to laugh so hard he can barely get out his breathy, "yes, exactly"

"i actually hate the image you just put in my head oh my god!!!!" you squeal and melt yourself into your cascading giggle-fit and sink further into hamzah's side.

you both laugh together- the kind of laughter that overpowers your entire being, when your eyes are squinted and there is no air in your lungs to produce an abundant sound any longer.

hamzah breaks his hold on you to wipe his eyes and reach for your phone yelling, "turn this shit off"

it cuts to a final clip of you smiling with your head resting on top of hamzah's as you pet his beanie-clad head, "bald!"

"enough!!!" the video gets blurry before cutting off as hamzah manhandles you off of him.