#I’m avoiding your blog like the plague

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Creep - Dark!Joel/Creepy Neighbour!Joel x Reader Dark fic.

Taking part in the Haunted Hoedown - I did a randomised one so here we goooo:

Prompts: Urban Legend(s), “I’m so close, can you feel it?”, fate worse than death, mirror sex, the creepy neighbour is too hot to be insane, right? Thank you @psychedelic-ink and @inklore for setting this up! [Extra thanks to @beefrobeefcal and @patti7dc for beta reading this to let me know if it hit right!] [Read on Ao3]

Part 2 of 3 here:

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific warnings: This is a dark fic, it’s twisted af, Joel is a creep, Joel is mean and fucking nasty in this, drug use, dubcon(reader is high AF), coercion, mouth fucking, unprotected PiV, Creampie, breeding kink, degredation(lots of Joel calling Reader a slut/whore etc.), (heavy)stalker vibes, let me know if I missed anything! Enjoy you beautiful THOTs.

Creep.

You’d heard the stories, of the creepy neighbour down the hall, the one Jenny said to avoid like the plague. But she also thought that pot smoking was the work of the devil, and that sex before marriage was a fate worse than death. But you didn’t listen too hard, especially when you realised just how hot Mr Miller was. You’d bumped into him a few times when collecting your mail, or when you’d snuck up onto the roof to smoke. 

Tonight is one of the latter. The fire escape rattles as you hear the tell-tale groan of Mr Miller, it’s weird how a pained groan could make your stomach flutter as heat rises on your cheekbones. You take a long drag, the tickling burn of pot threatening to make you cough but you stay quiet, waiting for him to make it up to the roof. 

“Damned knee,” He grumbles to himself, cresting over the roof of the building like a bed-headed angel, fuck the pot is already affecting you as you giggle quietly at your own train of thought. The sound makes Joel perk up, dark eyes locking onto yours as he realises he’s not alone, “Hey there gorgeous.” He says with his syrupy Texan drawl dripping from every word. 

“Evening Mr Miller.” You say as you take another hit, flicking the ash over the side of the building. Your legs dangle over the edge, feet bare in the oppressive New York summer air. 

“Please, sweetheart call me Joel.” He says with an exasperated sigh, as he trudges over to you, his equally bare feet slapping softly on the flat rooftop. 

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, sitting just far enough away from you to give you some space. 

“Never,” You say as you offer him your blunt, which he willingly accepts, “Always a riveting conversation with you Mr-, I mean Joel.” You giggle to yourself, the high already making you feel light and airy as you can’t help the stream of giggles that erupt from your lips as Joel eyes you with a look you can’t quite perceive. 

“You been up here long sweetheart?” He asks and you swear he inches closer to you, but you either don’t care, or the weed is just making you horny and hopeful. Maybe it’s all of the above. 

“Not long, just been a long week.” You say airily as you watch the older man purse his lips around the tip of the joint, you feel the ache between your legs build as you watch the tendrils of smoke escape from his mouth as he exhales. 

“It’s Tuesday sweetheart.” He chuckles, handing you back the joint and for a second your fingers brush against one another and you find yourself chasing his touch. His eyes sparkle in the darkness as he notices your parted lips, knees clamped together as you try and relieve some of the ache in your soaked cunt. 

“Don’t remind me.” You grumble as you lie back on the rooftop, a heavy sigh leaving you as you try not to think about how hot Joel is, how his grey sweatpants leave nothing to the imagination. You also try very hard not to get caught staring as you realise his dark eyes are glued to you. 

“You ok there babygirl?” The new nickname makes your cunt throb and you know your eyes are wide and glassy as you try to make up an excuse. 

“Sorry just-,” You start but Joel lies down next to you stretching his arms above his head, the hem of his t-shirt pulling up far enough that you get a glimpse of the stretch of tan skin, dappled with curls leading down to the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“Just what babygirl? You checking out this old dog?” He grumbles but you can hear the humour in his tone. 

“Maybe,” You say with yet another string of giggles as you, “What of it?” 

“Just surprised such a beautiful girl like you would be interested in someone like me.” He says with a shrug as a chuckle escapes his lips. 

“Whaddaya mean? Like you?” You ask, already noting how slurred your speech has become. 

“Creepy old neighbour, sniffin’ up all the girls skirts, and so on.” He says with a sigh, as if it actually pained him to say the words.

“Don’t think you’re creepy, pretty hot for an old man.” You say with a giggle, trying to lighten the mood, and it seems to work as he barks out a short laugh. 

“Don’t tease babygirl, not nice to kick a man when he’s down.” He grumbles but you can hear the levity in his tone. 

“Not teasing, not unless you want me to.” You say as you roll onto your side, looking at him as he mirrors your actions, rolling on his side, you’re almost nose to nose now, the tension between you is palpable as you wet your lips in anticipation. 

“You’re high babygirl, don’t go makin’ decisions you’ll regret in the mornin’.” He grumbles but you can hear the strain in his voice. You throw caution to the wind and palm the growing bulge straining against his sweatpants. The moan that escapes him tells you all you need to know as you press your lips softly against his. They’re chapped, warm, plush. 

“Take me to bed Joel.” You say softly as you pull back, his eyes are glassy, pupils saucers as he bites down on his lip as he considers it.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He growls and brushes his lips against yours once more before pulling away to roll onto his feet, offering his hand out to you, muscles rippling as he hoists you up. 

He helps you down the fire escape, steadying you on the gantries as you try your hardest not to fall helplessly to your demise. Once you’re back at your floor you’re crawling through the window to the hall, stumbling against the wall as your legs wobble. 

“Easy there,” Joel coos as he grips your elbow, steading you as he pulls you close, “Your place or mine?” He says softly as he rubs his thumbs back and forth against your biceps. 

“Yours, mine’s a dump, don’t want to scare you off.” You admit with a giggle and he rolls his eyes at you as he steers you to his apartment, you note that the door is unlocked as he pushes you into the dimly lit living room. 

Immediately his mouth is on yours, a large hand grips your hip, pinning you to him, the other fisted in your hair as he pushes you further into his apartment. Your hands claw at one another’s bodies, stripping you both bare to the humid air as you crash into the unmade bed. All you can smell is Joel, the musk on his bedsheets, the waft of his detergent. It’s all consuming.

“Look at you.” He says darkly as he stands at the end of the bed, bare for you, one hand rubbing the patchy stubble on his chin as the other pumps his length slowly. And length is the right word for it, he’s so big you shudder. 

“Mr Miller please.” You whine as you clench around nothing. 

“Such a needy brat, c’mere.” He beckons and you scamper up onto your knees to look at him. He smirks and pushes down on your shoulder with one hand, the other still secure on his cock. You’re forced to sit back on your ankles as he pulls your head towards his angry, red tip, beading with precome already. 

“Please Mr Miller, fuck me.” You whine as you eye his dick hungrily. You expect him to become bashful, disheartened, but there’s a darkness that settles over his eyes, his posture shifts.

“Suck.” He says with a grunt as he fists his hand in your hair, tugging painfully but you groan at the sensation as your lips are forced against his tip. You whimper as you take the tip into your mouth, suckling gently as your tongue flattens along the underside. 

“Fuck, dirty little mouth, knew you were just fucking begging for it, seen the way you look at me babygirl.” He grunts as he rocks his hips slowly, pushing further and further into your mouth. You’ve only got about half of him in your mouth and you’re already struggling. He laughs at you, a cold, condescending sound. 

“Shouldn’t pretend to be such a slut if you’re not willing to take my cock babygirl.” He growls as he pulls your head back, opening your throat up for him so he can force the rest of his brutal length into you. His balls rest heavy on your chin as you choke and splutter around him, saliva dripping down your cheeks as you cry at the stretch. 

“Fuck, come with me.” He grunts as he unsheathes himself from your mouth, yanking you up with such force your shoulder hurts. He pushes you into his bathroom, bending you over the sink so hard you almost hit the mirror with your head. 

“Mr Miller, please, I’m sorry.” You whimper, the anticipation of him fucking you with such a big dick making you shake. But you’re excited at the same time, a sick and twisted desire leaking from you as your arousal coats your thighs. 

“Too fuckin’ late sweetheart,” He growls as he notches himself at your entrance, “You wanna act like a slut, gonna treat you like one.” 

You cry out as he stretches you out, squirming under him as he bottoms out. You’re so full, raw and split open but it feels so damned good. He fists your hair again and pulls you off the sink to look at him in the mirror. His face is contorted in a sick snarl, you can’t help but whine at how he looks. Dominant and brutal as he uses you. 

“Look at you, all fucked out on my thick cock, spearing you like the good little slut you are.” He growls as he fucks into you at pace, not giving you a moment to adjust but it feels too good. You’re drooling, blissed out as a hand comes to your clit, thick, calloused fingers swiping furiously against your swollen bundle of nerves. 

“Wanna feel you milk this cock dry little fucking slut.” He growls as he pistons into you as he expertly plays you like a fucking instrument. You feel your release slide down your spine, making your whole body shudder as your clit twitches painfully. You scream as his dick slams into you, your orgasm blurring the edges of fantasy and reality as you fall apart around him. 

“Fu-fuuuuck.” Joel groans as he snaps his hips into you a few more times. 

“Joel I’m not on birth control.” You babble, the realisation finally hitting you that he isn’t going to pull out.

“Too fuckin’ late you dumb slut, going to fill you up, ‘m so close, can you feel it?” He taunts as you feel him stutter inside you, the sensation of his cum filling you has you whining. It feels so fucking good.

“Fuck.” He grunts as he pulls out of you, immediately walking away, you stagger upright only to have your clothes thrown at you. 

“Get dressed and get the fuck out of my apartment you fucking whore.” He snaps and you do as your told, trembling as you dress before scurrying across the hall. You fumble with your keys, as you unlock the door and quickly slip inside, locking the door from within as you slump to a heap against the door. 

Your smile is so broad it hurts as you make yourself get up and head to bed, not bothering to shower. You flop down onto the pristinely made bed and laugh to yourself as you prop a pillow under your tailbone, staring up at the ceiling as you hope it takes. You’re ovulating after all. 

You smile to yourself as you look up at the collage above you. Blown up photos of Joel from his social media, snaps you took on the sly on nights like tonight on the rooftop, that one time you caught him jacking off on the roof while high on god knows what. Your secret shrine on full display as you pray his seed will take. He thought he was in control, fucking you like he was the one pulling the strings but he was wrong, so very wrong. 

“You’re going to be mine Miller, all fucking mine,” You groan as you play with your clit, arching your hips up so no more of his spend leaves you, “All fucking mine.” 

Part 2 of 3 here:

Tagging for interest: @beefrobeefcal @cool-iguana @gracieispunk @toxicanonymity

#pedro pascal #fanfic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #dubious consent #Dubcon #weed #smoking #creep!Joel Miller #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #the last of us #tlou #Dark fic #Joel is mean #dom!joel miller #joel miller x afab!reader #brattamer!joel #joel miller x f!reader #tlou smut #haunted hoedown #writing challenge #writing prompt #Reader is unhinged #joel x reader #joel the last of us

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 17, Unanswered - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Anxiety

Word Count: 612

Previously On...: Bucky missed his your check-in call.

A/N: ::Ominous music plays::

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You found Steve lifting weights in the training room, a group of agents, both male and female, pretending not to be transfixed with the way his muscles glistened under the strain of more weight than any normal man should be able to bench. You ignored the whispers that built up as you walked toward him, no doubt dumb gossip continuing to spread after the release of those fucking idiotic articles. You wondered briefly if you could sue the publications for slander. Or was it libel? You never remembered the difference. 

This was America, right? you thought. Wasn’t litigation one of your inalienable rights under God and the Constitution and Santa Claus, or something? You made a note to talk to Legal.

Steve looked surprised to see you when you called out his name to get his attention, no doubt expecting you to avoid him like the plague, all things considered. “Hey, Pocket,” he said, a little too nonchalantly as he set down his barbell and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to ogle me, too.” He nodded toward the not-so-subtle group of agents. “I’m beginning to feel a little objectified.”

“Have you heard from Bucky?” you asked, wanting to get straight to the point. Steve looked at you for a few moments, just blinking, before you went on, your voice growing faster and more high pitched as you spoke: “I haven’t heard from him since last night, and I’ve been calling and texting him all day, but he’s not getting back to me. I never heard from him after the raid, and then after the articles… He missed our regular check-in, and I’ve been worried sick. What if something happened to him? What if–”

“Whoa, Pocket,” Steve put an arm on your shoulder, shutting you up and steadying you. “Calm down, okay? Take a breath for me.” He waited on you to do just that before he continued. “Buck’s just fine. He and Jade were successful in their objective, and they’re on their way home now. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

His words took you by surprise. He was on his way home? “But… Why didn’t he call me back, Steve? All day, I’ve been thinking he either hates my guts because he saw those damned articles, or that he’s lying dead in some godforsaken Russian forest. And he’s just been completely fucking fine this entire time?”

“Hey,” Steve said, rubbing a hand comfortingly along your upper arm, “I’m sure he’s got a perfectly good explanation for not getting in touch,” he told you. “He radioed Communications from the Quinjet so, maybe something’s up with his phone. Don’t get worked up until you’ve talked to him, alright?”

You nodded, wanting to believe Steve’s words, wanting to let them give you comfort. “Did he say anything?” you asked him. “About the articles? Or give you a message to give to me?”

Steve shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Pocket. He just said they’d successfully cleared their objective and they were on their way home. That’s it.”

You blinked repeatedly, not sure what to make of what Steve had just told you. The only positive thing you could take away from it was that Bucky was safe. He was safe and he was coming home. All other answers would have to wait.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded dumbly, “thanks Steve. I appreciate it.” You turned to head back to your room, thoughts spiraling until the only thing you could coherently think was: If Bucky had been able to get in touch with Steve, it wasn’t that he was out of contact; he simply hadn’t wanted to contact you.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[snaillock]

i’m surprised i haven’t found anything like this yet but would it be ok if you wrote hcs for sae x teammate!m!reader? idk i just feel like this should be more common but 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

ooo ooo i love this request so much! i also spent an unnecessary amount of time tryna figure out what age he would be during these events (still ain figure it out)

tags: male reader, sae secretly having feelings from the start, secret dating

when sae joined the madrid team when you were both pretty young, at first you steered clear away from him since he has that very strong "unless you have something necessary to say, stay the fuck away from me" aura

still sae was pretty new to the country so for reasons unknown to you, he had you show him around the city. the whole thing was pretty awkward (just for you really) since he's such an intimidating and antisocial guy. but he didn't mind your presence at all. in fact, he enjoyed it enough that he made you his little tour guide from now on.

he also trained with you a lot before big matches and would highly respect your skills as his teammate.

before you knew it, you became one of his closest friends and eventually, he made the first move and asked you out

once you two become official, you soon found out that he loves to spoil you, even if you insist that he doesn't have to since you both have very similar salaries. he would still buy you expensive things you like or have been wanting for a while.

for the sake of both your careers, your relationship had to be kept under wraps. however, there have been a few close calls since sae couldn't resist kissing you or holding your hand in public

though this didn’t stop your teammates from suspecting that there’s something going on between you two. even though you two were close for a while, your team still finds it suspicious that you both avoid interview questions about your love life like the plague. not to mention how often you both steal glances at each other.

of course, they wouldn't dare say anything about it because y'know sae itoshi. so it's safe to say they won't be finding out about your relationship anytime soon

check out my blog if you want more male reader content :3

#★ snail.writes ★ #sae itoshi x male reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x male reader #sae itoshi #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x male reader #blue lock headcanons #male reader #scheduled #wrote this while looping bury me at makeout creek #once again

[no1frogfan]

Impending, part 3

Matsukawa Issei x afab reader

Word count: ~3.4k

Tags & warnings: SMUT-MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v. There is cum. Pubes exist in this world. A little angst, pining, guilt, and desperation (my four favorite flavors).

Note: Finally finished this mini-series. The word counts have grown too much each time, but what can I say? — I want him emotionally, spiritually, biblically.

part 1 | part 2

You can’t stay in bed forever.

Probably.

Not unless you can convince Hiro to bring you something for dinner, but that’s never going to happen.

A particularly angry gurgle from your stomach makes you roll out of bed and pick your way to the kitchen. The tackiness of your skin is proof you made the right choice to sleep the day away. Summers are always stifling, and the humidity lingers even after the sun has set, preventing the air from dropping to comfortable temperatures.

A cool gust from the fridge provides a welcome relief, though it’s unfortunate the shelves are empty. That’s the worst part of being at home — the isolation. The trees and hills are beautiful, even the warbling of the birds at 4am is nice, but grocery stores and restaurants are few and far between. You could walk to the ancient ramen place a few streets down, or the sukiyaki place a few streets up, but neither sound at all appealing in this heat.

“Did mom and dad leave us anything for dinner?” You shout toward the open basement door.

No answer.

“I know you can hear me.”

You can’t see the middle finger Makki holds up. “I’m getting pizza later.”

“Can we order now? I’m starving,” you pad downstairs with a whine.

Sprawled on the couch, Hiro is sporadically illuminated by some anime show on tv. While you don’t recognize it, you can at least pick out the white-haired guy Hiro likes landing a couple of (over)dramatic punches on a black-haired guy.

“How are you even hungry? You’ve just been sleeping all day.”

Your brother doesn’t take his eyes off the tv where the black-haired one finally managed to dodge, and now the white-haired one is strategizing (at length) about his next move.

“You’re one to talk! As if you’ve mov-”

“I’m hungry too,” a deep baritone chimes in seemingly from below you.

You leap back with a yelp, squinting into the darkness at your feet. Out of the shadows, Issei’s form slowly takes shape. Honestly, you’re shocked you didn’t step on him.

“That’s not what you said 5 minutes ago,” Makki grumbles, but picks up his phone to place the order.

Issei shrugs, reaching his arm out toward you.

You dodge beyond his fingertips and beat a hasty retreat back up the stairs, calling out over your shoulder, “order me a Hawaiian pizza.”

“No way in hell. That’s disgusting.”

Fake retching sounds follow you to the top.

The cold spray of the shower is calming, necessary even, to wash the stickiness from your skin and quiet your frazzled nerves.

That happened almost a week ago, and seeing him in your house every day has only made things more fraught. While you haven’t exactly been avoiding Issei, you haven’t tried to talk to him either. For your brother’s sake you should probably make clear that it was a mistake; one that will never happen again. You could blame it on the beer or the weed, but the truth is, Issei plagues your thoughts even while sober — his breath hot on your neck, fingertips digging into the fat of your hips, the utter fullness when he pushed into you.

Before that night, the image of him as a gawky preteen was all your mind could conjure up. But now… Your fingers aren’t enough to relieve the pressure anymore.

Your encounter unleashed some latent magnetic field, prickling your senses and hopelessly drawing you toward him at every turn. You welcome his attention more than you care to admit, so, unsurprisingly, it’s been hard not to make it weird, and harder not to second-guess every single interaction these days. Since when did he know your favorite snacks? Did he used to stare at you so much? Had he always been this touchy?

Or is he just hoping for a repeat of the other night?

The possibility stirs up both anxiety and relief. Except for the teeny, tiny detail of being your little brother’s best friend — you know, the one person outside of family that Hiro places 100% of his trust in — Issei would top your list of fuck buddies (and if you’re honest, maybe even more than that).

What’s been most confusing is that Issei doesn’t seem bothered, and you’re not sure why that irritates you so much. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy who would treat you like a notch in his bedpost, but then again, best friend’s sibling is a perennially popular porn trope for a reason. Surely he’s not immune.

None of that really matters though. Hiro’s been acting strange lately, like he knows something’s up. Half the time, he books it out of a room as soon as you walk in. God knows how he’d react if he found out what happened. Issei said he wouldn’t care, but how true is that? You try to imagine how you’d feel if one of your friends told you they’d slept with Hiro, and you can’t help but be…one, grossed out because you really don’t want to think about it. And two, well…protective, angry maybe. He might be an ass, but he’s still your brother, and you’d never do anything to actually hurt him.

A knock breaks into your anxious musings.

It’s then you notice you’re standing vacantly in the middle of your room. Somehow, you’d finished showering and walked back while lost in thought.

“Go away!”

Hiro is the last person you want to talk to right now; especially not before you can get your thoughts under control.

Footsteps shuffle away, but instead of the telltale creak of the stairs, they pause, then turn back toward the door.

The door jiggles and clicks open.

“What part of-”

Except it’s not Hiro. It’s Issei.

His audacity dumbfounds you, but only for a second.

“The hell?! Get out!”

Hesitation flickers across his face but he takes a step forward.

“Can we talk?”

“NO.” You wrap the towel tighter around yourself.

When he doesn’t move, you reiterate the point by whirling on your heels and stomping toward the dresser. The underwear drawer suddenly captures your full attention, and you rummage through it with single-minded focus.

The door shuts behind you with another click, and you let out a shaky breath.

The relief is short-lived.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Goosebumps break out all over your skin at his words.

“That’s not true.”

The lavender scent of your shampoo tickles his nose. With you faced resolutely away, he steps closer and allows his eyes to sweep over the droplets gleaming across your shoulders.

“No?”

His lips brush against the base of your neck, and whatever retort you had fizzles on your tongue.

“Issei,” you whimper, “you said you wanted to talk.”

You lean back into his touch and feel him grin against the juncture of your neck. His hands, big and warm and firm, slide up under the towel to knead at your soft thighs, rapidly emptying your brain.

He gives you a gentle nudge toward the bed.

“I don’t think we should do this,” you protest, but your lack of conviction is apparent in how eagerly you obey, practically tripping over yourself to perch on the edge of the mattress.

He raises one thick eyebrow. “Why?”

“Hiro’s going to find out.”

Issei unbuttons his shirt with unhurried movements, unveiling the smooth musculature of his chest. Its slopes and dips are made more dramatic thanks to the yellow-orange light of the single desk lamp. You swallow thickly, eyes drawn to the sharp cut of his collarbones and the faded scar on his right hip.

“Makki knows. He doesn’t care.”

His shorts and underwear quickly land in a pile on the floor.

Even in the harsh light, his dick is nothing short of mouth-watering. A pretty flush tip sits enticingly over its thick, veiny length. Coarse hairs curl tightly at the base, trimmed short to reveal more of him.

He kneels and shuffles forward to tug the towel from your clutch, uttering an appreciative groan before he tosses it aside.

“Fuck, just look at you.”

Your objections devolve into gasping moans when he pushes you back to lay open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down your chest, sluggishly mouthing over your hips, down the tops of your legs and back up, licking a stripe along the tender skin of your inner thigh as he splays your legs up and out. He dives in to suck on your clit and you almost choke.

Your entire body tenses with pleasure when he starts to lap at you. But it’s the way he meets your gaze with hooded eyes — intoxicated from a single taste — that kickstarts the last ounce of resistance left in your body.

“Issei, if you- fuck that’s ahhh- you’re just looking to get your dick wet…”

That stills his tongue. Even though you’re the one protesting, you can’t help but whine now that he’s actually stopped.

“That’s not…” He frowns, a mixture of your juices and his saliva glistening on his chin. In one fluid motion, Issei slides you off the bed and onto his lap. A shudder runs through him when his erection glides against your folds, though it doesn’t distract him.

“Is that what you think this is?”

You’re not sure what answer he’s looking for, so you stay silent, head turned to avoid his eyes.

He scrutinizes you for what seems like an age. How could you not know? All the times he’s tried to impress you? All the things he’s done in the hopes you’ll notice him? All the years he’s trailed behind you — to your house, to university, and even to Sendai?

“Do you remember when your parents made you start watching us after school?”

Your face scrunches in confusion at the change in topic, but he’s insistent.

“Do you remember? Right after you started high school?”

“Ok…yeah,” you indulge, “I remember. I’d just joined photography club and had to quit like a month later. I was pissed — they’d never cared about leaving us home alone before so I didn’t understand why I had to babysit you guys.”

“They didn’t actually care. I made up some lie — I don’t even remember what it was now — to convince my parents we needed a sitter. I figured they’d make you do it, and they did.”

You look up in confusion. Is he…blushing?

“And in eighth grade, when I needed help with math… I actually bombed my tests on purpose for a month because I knew my parents would ask you.”

Wait… “Was that what your fights were about?”

Hiro and Issei were thick as thieves, the only exceptions being in your first and last years of high school. Their fights got heated too, though neither ever told you what set them off, no matter how many times you tried to pry it out of them. The second time, Issei didn’t come over for almost a month afterward (you remember because you had to go to his house to tutor him) but things always eventually went back to normal.

Issei huffs a soft chuckle. “Yeah, Makki figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“It’s not obvious?” Issei drops his head onto your shoulder with something between a groan and a laugh. “I liked you. A lot. I still do.”

He admits it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. Like he and Hiro haven’t kept this secret for over a decade. Like it’s hardly a confession at all.

For once, you’re the one struggling to keep up.

“Wait…you like me?”

You feel a muffled snort. “That’s literally what I’ve been saying this whole time.”

“And Hiro’s…not mad? But he’s been acting so weird lately,” you point out.

“Oh that. He keeps trying to ‘give us space’ or something. I told him to cool it.”

“Oh.” Huh. Maybe it was obvious. You were just too worried about Hiro to notice that every time he flew out of a room with some flimsy excuse, you were left alone with Issei. Issei, who you like more than you expected. Who’s had a crush on you for more than a decade. Whose lap you’re currently nestled in, naked.

“Does that mean we can…” You shift, jerking when your clit catches his spongy tip.

He laughs, grinding his hips up to meet you.

“We sure can.”

You’re still wet, really wet, you’re reminded when your pussy glides against him, and getting more aroused by the second as Issei stares, mesmerized by the slick trail you leave along the length of his cock.

His hands slide down to give your ass an excited squeeze before lifting you up onto the edge of the bed.

Dextrous fingers part your puffy lips as he rests his cheek against your thigh, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt. He thumbs lightly at your clit and heaves a sigh of contentment when your hips buck in response.

“Didn’t get to enjoy this last time.”

You bite back a moan when he slides one long finger into you. It reaches deep, and you squirm in encouragement when he sinks a second one in. He works them nimbly, curling and scissoring them while rolling your clit, breaking you down into a whiny mess in seconds, until you’re dripping down his wrists and onto the sheets.

You’re so distracted by his fingers that you don’t notice him dive in, just feel his lips wrap around your clit with a slurp. He licks and sucks at you eagerly, and you can only gasp and writhe, trying to steady yourself with a fist in his soft wavy hair. The walls echo with your cries mingled with Issei’s enthusiastic groans and the wet suction of your cunt around his fingers.

It catches you by surprise when you cum, cresting fast and hard, pulling your body taut and whiting out your vision. Before you realize it, you’re already quaking with aftershocks, trying to twist away from the overwhelming sensation of him licking and suckling dreamily as you come down.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, he makes a show of sucking them clean, stroking himself as he smirks up at you.

He pushes himself up off the floor and god, fuck. He’s irresistible, his cock bobbing heavily between his legs as he gets on his hands and knees above you.

Issei leans down, humming happily when he wraps his mouth around your right nipple. He massages your chest with one hand and grips his cock with the other to smear his tip along your sopping pussy.

It feels good, but you squirm and push at his shoulders. “Want you in my mouth,” you beg.

He placates you with a hungry kiss. “Next time, ok? Next time. I can barely- I don’t think I can last long,” he admits wryly, “but next time we’ll do anything you want.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in anticipation when he lines himself up.

He pushes in slowly, first the fat mushroom tip, then the whole thick length of him, rocking himself in, out, in, inch by inch until he’s pressed flush against you. Issei groans when your face contorts with pleasure. The stretch is incredible. He stuffs you so full, finally hitting that place you’ve been unable to reach.

He takes things slow. Too slow. He wasn’t able to savor you before, but he’s not about to make the same mistake again. His long, languid strokes are just enough to have you grinding against him in frustration with every thrust.

“Let me enjoy this for a minute,” he rasps.

His hands trail restlessly across your body, caressing and squeezing every inch of skin he can reach. He kisses his way down your neck to roll his tongue around your nipple, biting and sucking one before moving to the other, and back again.

After what feels like hours, your patience finally gives out.

You smack him hard on the ass. “Issei! Fuck me already.”

That jolts his hips into action. The length of his body is laid on top of you, pinning your legs up against your shoulders as he pistons into you with surprising force. Wet slaps alternate with the loud squeak of the mattress.

You begin to quiver, your whole body shaking as the heat builds in your core. He reaches deep, so so deep, making you wail every time he bumps your clit and his cock hits that perfect spot inside of you over and over again.

“Ohhh- fuck, Issei please I’m-”

He barely has time to blink before you’re falling apart at the seams again. Wave after blinding wave of ecstasy crash over you, relentless.

Your pussy clenches hard, gripping his cock so firmly he can barely move. Not a second later, he pulls out with a shout. Through hazy eyes, you see his mouth drop open. He fists his cock only once before his body stiffens, convulsing as jets of hot cum shoot out to land on your cheeks, shoulders, chest, stomach, dribbling out to coat your pubes, before finally leaving him twitching.

The room fills with hoarse pants.

You laugh weakly at the mess. “Wow, you came a lot.”

“I think I almost blacked out,” he croaks.

With great effort, he pushes himself off the bed and returns with the box of tissues from your desk. He cleans you up with care, just like last time.

“I wanted to last longer,” he mumbles, pressing a sheepish kiss to your sternum before collapsing on you, pinning you down with his weight.

It does something funny to your heart to witness him like this, so different from his usual confidence.

“Next time,” you assure him.

“Next time?” He looks up, almost reverent.

“Yeah.” You smile and brush the damp curls away from his eyes.

Next time. He breaks out in an obnoxious grin. There’s going to be a next time. And if there’s a next time, there might be a time after that.

“You won’t even need to introduce me to your parents.”

You snort. “Ok, pump the brakes.”

When you finally make your way back to the kitchen (with Issei practically holding you up as you wobbled), you find one Hawaiian pizza and two-thirds of a pepperoni pizza sitting on the counter.

Issei loads up a plate for you both before heading down to the basement. You grab some cold beers and follow suit, pausing in the doorway to take a few calming breaths.

You don’t hear any yelling or scuffling — a positive sign. Hopefully, that means Hiro isn’t too angry.

You take one wary step, then another.

When you reach the bottom, your eyes hesitantly find Hiro’s. There’s an uneasy moment when he frowns at you from where he’s seated on the floor before he gives you a curt nod. It’s stiff, but definitely not angry, not even upset.

Your shoulders untense.

Issei waves you over to the couch where he settles you securely in his lap, his arms encircling your waist. You cast another wary glance at Hiro who just rolls his eyes.

“Glad you’re finally done ‘getting some water,’” Makki snipes. “I’ve been waiting forever to start the next episode.”

“I’m definitely not thirsty anymore if you know what I mean.” Mattsun wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Hiro’s face twists, revolted. “Ugh- I- ugh god, I don’t want to think about-” he sputters. His eyes flick to where Issei’s hands grope at your thighs and ass. “Whoa, ok rule number one: not when I’m right here. And rule number two-” there’s an uncomfortable pause before he mutters, “keep it down next time.”

Mattsun’s not at all chagrined. In fact, he puffs out his chest proudly.

You, on the other hand, shrink in absolutely mortification. Right when Issei opens his mouth to make another (probably vulgar) retort, you shove a slice of pizza in…with a little more force than you intended.

He chokes in surprise and your brother lets out a mean snicker. “Perfect timing! Serves you right.”

You expect him to continue bickering with Hiro, but Issei instead flashes you a dopey grin. “Thank you baby,” he says sweetly, muffled though it is by a mouthful of food.

The gleeful smirk drops right off Makki’s face and he whirls back toward the tv with a loud gag.

“You’re welcome,” you giggle. Your brain’s still playing catch-up with everything that’s happened today, but you think you like where this is heading.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #hq x reader #froggy scribbles

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.6

a/n: we get a bit of backstory about our dear little reader. let's see how she handles parents weekend, shall we?

Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: light swearing Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 (Masterlist)

Parents Weekend. Most of the students at Nevermore loved it; it gave them an opportunity to show their family how they were doing, who their friends were, what they were doing with their young lives. And truthfully, it was a joyous weekend. There was more laughter and joy than any other point of the year, even the Rave’N.

Even in the past, you had enjoyed Parents Weekend. The few days Momma and Pop could come up and visit and talk and give you the family you never truly had. Filling that void and giving you the space and opportunity to just be a child. You and Nicky had never been more grateful for something you hadn’t realised was so important.

You understood why they hadn’t been able to come the past few years, truly you did. The others had plays, concerts, events, exams. They were all a little more important than a weekend away, especially when it was a full day’s train ride. They had offered to come, but you told them to stay; being one of the oldest definitely had it’s downsides.

But you enjoyed seeing everyone else’s families rolling in, all the excited chattering and hugs. Even Enid’s family had arrived. You gave them a quick wave and polite smile before running off to hide. If Mrs. Sinclair made one more comment about no one coming to visit you, you were going to scream. The concern was sweet, but there was no point in dredging that fact back up.

“Will you be heading out soon?”

Even though your heart rate accelerated at the sudden appearance of a voice, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Principle Weems knew of your plans for the day and had already given explicit permission to be out all weekend. So why you flinched at her voice, you had no idea.

Must have been nerves.

“A lot sooner now that Mrs. Sinclair saw me,” you said, sending a smile to Mr. Sinclair when they all turned to look at you. “I’m trying to avoid the attention this year.”

“I know you were planning on staying away for the weekend,” Principle Weems started, “but maybe tomorrow you and I could socialise with the other families.”

The tone in her voice, now that was a reason to be surprised. An uncertainty accentuated by the slightest shake behind her words. Without drawing any attention to you both, you looked at her out of the corner of your eye to see that yes, that forced smile of hers was real.

It would mean cutting your trip in half. These trips only happened every other Sunday and this was your one shot at a full weekend. Would it be worth it? Is it what he would want you to do? Probably, you thought with a silent sigh. As much as it felt like throwing your heart into a juicer, you knew what the best thing to do would be.

“I would love to,” you said far too softly. Hopefully Principle Weems had heard you because you weren’t sure you could say it again around the tightness in your throat.

But Principle Weems smiled. “Then we will see you tomorrow.”

She left you standing there with nothing but a dry mouth and an uneasiness in your stomach. It continued to plague you on the flight to Hanover, and reached a crescendo as you greeted Nurse Jackie at the desk and walked into the room. Only when you sat down in your chair by the bed did you feel that anxiety and fear metamorphosise into a comfort you couldn’t put into words.

“Hey bubba” you said as you started digging in your bag for the book. “You look like shit, when was the last time you shaved?”

The high pitched, headache inducing beeping of the heart monitor answered.

“We’ll clean you up before I leave,” you huffed, “I’m not kissing your scruffy cheek.”

The ventilator hissed.

“I told you about that girl I like, right?” You asked. The chair creaked underneath you as you pulled your legs up and crossed them. “The goth girl that looks like she wants to murder everyone, except it’s kinda hot?”

One spike of the heart monitor.

“I was thinking of asking her out again.”

An increase in the beeping of the heart monitor.

“No, it’s not a date." You rolled your eyes. "She doesn’t use that word.”

Another rapid increase.

“I know that’s what it is, she just doesn’t like the word.”

The heart monitor returned back to normal.

“Anyway, I need your thoughts. Would it be stupid to ask her to the Rave’N? It’s not either of our style but it’s still tradition so I just… need some brotherly advice.”

Three breaths from the ventilator before the heart monitor spiked twice.

“You were supposed to say yes,” you said with a huff. “Fine, I’ll ask. But if she turns me down, I’m blaming you.” You pointed your finger at the bed. With a smirk to yourself, you flipped the pages of the book open. “Okay, let’s see, we stopped after Gandalf and the Balrog, right?”

The heart monitor spiked once.

Your smirk turned into a smile before you started reading. Line after line, page after page. At the end of each chapter, you would look up to check on your captive audience, listening for any indication of his thoughts from the heart monitor. With each new chapter your stomach dropped all over again, some sad desperation for a response that was never going to come.

A groan escaped your lips as you shifted in the chair, stretching your legs out until they rested on the bed and you could lean back a little further. You made the mistake of looking up in the middle of the chapter. Your throat constricted, the words becoming harder to force out.

“Sorry,” you said as you cleared your throat. You picked up where you had left off.

Nicky laid there and listened as you read through the rest of the book, the uneasiness in your voice disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

—---

There was nothing in heaven or hell that was quite like love. It came in all shapes and sizes, from romantic to familial to platonic. That unbearable queasiness that settles in your stomach like a body settles at the bottom of a lake and gives a certain sort of intrigue and comfort. To know that someone would kill for you, to die for you. That was what made love so exciting.

Morticia could see it in everyone present at the Parents Weekend events. Although the day was rather dreadful - far too bright and sunny - everyone was filled with love for whoever they were with. She could see it in Enid Sinclair’s family, whom she had introduced herself to. It was present in Wednesday, although a much different expression (she knew Wednesday still loved them).

And she saw it in Larissa and the young woman accompanying her.

She had noticed Larissa immediately, as she so often did, but the young woman caught her eye. The way she would look up at Larissa as if she hung the moon in the night sky. Morticia knew Larissa had no children, and yet she looked at the young lady the same way Morticia looked at her own children.

“I’ll be right back,” Morticia told Gomez before making her way to where Larissa was standing.

“Morticia,” Larissa called out once she was near. She sounded far more joyful than usual. “Always a pleasure.”

“I see you’re enjoying the festivities for the day,” Morticia said even though her gaze fell to the young woman who was actually quite tall, now that she was up close.

“We are,” Larissa said, her smile softening as she looked at her companion. “Allow me to introduce you both, this is Morticia Addams.”

“Oh, you’re Wednesday’s mom,” the young lady exclaimed with a grin and enthusiastically reaching her hand out, “I’m Y/N.”

Ah. So that’s who you were. Morticia knew exactly who you were. Numerous times she had heard Wednesday or Enid talk about you, even just in passing, with an admiration that she rarely saw from her own daughter. Her features would soften and she would threaten you bodily harm far less often than usual. 

It had been so unusual at first to hear Wednesday talk about anyone, let alone someone that brought out a completely different side of her. They were only occasional mentions of you, but they were enough for Morticia to catch on to it. One mention of your name and Wednesday’s eyes would go wide before trailing off to the side, her train of thought completely derailed for a fraction of a second too long.

While Morticia would never proclaim to know for a fact that her daughter had feelings for you, it was easy enough to tell. And when Enid had let it slip all those weeks ago that you had taken Wednesday to perform an autopsy? Then the immediate darkening of her daughter’s cheeks and nose before changing the subject? It was all Morticia needed to know.

And now she could put a face to the name.

Across the field, Wednesday stared in abject horror as her mother shook your hand. The same horror that she assumed one would feel when witnessing something traumatic, such as a car accident. A feeling that settled deep in her stomach, clawed it’s way up her throat because as horrifying as the scene was, she just couldn’t look away.

That feeling of horror slowly morphed into one that she couldn’t explain when you smiled at her mother and your feather’s twitched at something she had said. That single twitch, the ruffle, put a weight on her heart and forced it to beat harder, so hard that she could feel the physical pain within her chest. Why were you smiling at her mother like that? What had she said to make your wings twitch in that childishly giddy way?

Oh no.

Her heart’s struggle to beat came to a full stop like a car hitting a brick wall. Her mother was leading you over to where Wednesday and her family were situated. The way you followed her, with your hands swinging at your sides, reminded Wednesday of an avenging angel; dark and foreboding and your eyes on every little thing that passed.

She wanted you to follow her around like that. Would you keep her safe from those who wished her and her family harm? Her heart told her you would, you always would, you had already done so time and time again. But as you got closer and closer to seeing her family, her entire being, her mind told her no. No, you wouldn’t keep her safe, you wouldn’t keep her family safe. You were far too innocent, far too sweet, so adverse to trouble.

But she wanted you to stay. She needed you to stay the way a gaping wound needed stitches. Craved your touch the way a an infection craved moisture. It was humiliating to think such thoughts, Wednesday knew that, but if it was the truth then it was the truth. She needed you to stay and be near even if it was as nothing more than an acquaintance.

Though she refused to ever admit it. It was a weakness she would never act upon.

Her mother finally brought you to the family and introduced you to Wednesday’s father and brother. You shook their hands, a polite smile on your face, and Wednesday felt that budding feeling in her stomach again. Your smile should have been reserved for someone more deserving than her father and brother.

You were invited to sit with them for a time, and you agreed quickly. Most would have tucked tail and ran, no one quite understanding how her family could be the way they were. But you sat down beside Pugsly - why would you not sit beside her? - and engaged in conversation far easier than most.

All Wednesday could do as you talked was stare at you. At the way you gestured your hands wildly as you talked, or how you held eye contact with everyone when they talked. You got along with Pugsly; why could you not get along with her the same way? Your conversations with him flowed as effortlessly as a river flowed into the ocean. Wednesday certainly couldn’t hold the same amount of engagement.

She noted the way your eyes flicked over to her every now and then as you talked or listened. Whenever someone would ask you a question, you would look at Wednesday first, almost as if asking permission to answer. She would give you a singular nod, and you would continue. What would cause you to look to her in such a way? Surely you knew how to answer questions on your own, did you not? And yet, she almost found herself enjoying the attention, no matter how discreet.

“I should probably get back,” you finally said once the conversation had lulled. “It was a genuine pleasure to meet all of you.”

You gave a polite wave, shook her father’s and Pugsly’s hands, kissed her mother’s knuckles, and walked back to where Weems was standing. Wednesday already felt feelings about you leaving; feelings that she didn’t know what to call since she admittedly hadn’t felt them before. She didn’t know why, but she desperately hoped her family had liked you, had seen you in the same light that she oh so often did. She-

-were you wearing her sweater?

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #everyone but her au

[ticcitavvi]

Oh gosh I think I’m deep in the mlp obsession now 🫥

I’ve hesitantly dubbed this next gen verse ‘Incipient!verse’, and to start it off have a twipie kiddo! 

I plant to make a secondary blog later to properly house and upload future next!gen so don’t worry abt my flooding your feed with too much more pony content :)

her info below 💝

Name: Saccharine Artifice Age: Indeterminate Parents: Pinkie Pie x Twilight Sparkle

Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Cis Female

Race: Alicorn x Earthpony Build: Short and stocky, with an odd mixture of unicorn, Pegasus, and earthpony traits.  Voiceclaim: Allyn Rachel (‘Bee’ in Bee and Puppycat)

Talent: stratagem/logistics

Description: Saccharine Artifice is rarely bested in matters which necessitate strategy or cunning, with a mind umatched in regards to tactical thought. She most especially has a knack for reading the ponies around her, seemingly always one step ahead in a, usually, one sided game of wits. Unfortunately, This means she’s really rather quite bored half the time, which in turn ensures that the other half is spent eagerly searching for an enticing enough challenge. 

Still, Saccharine is, at her core, an extroverted pony with an, albeit overwhelming, emotional intensity and unforgettable presence. She sees little to no issue asking others uncomfortable, or even inappropriate, questions, either in a misguided attempt at making friends or to satiate her own curiosity, and has no concept of small talk unless it’s part of some elaborate plan.

With very little interest in her role as her mothers’ successor, bored to bits just by the very idea, Saccharine avoids her duties like the plague. She resents her position deeply, and this has caused a large rift between herself and Twilight.

Saccharine has a few odd quirks, both magical and physical. She possess an amount of control over magic that is wholly unheard of in any race outside of unicorns or alicorns, and was born with a few glaringly obvious ‘mutations’.  While Saccharine typically maintains a purely pony-like appearance, she only rarely hides her teeth, which are much sharper than usual. 

After much research, it was discovered that this is all due to pinkie pie’s brief stint with discord’s magic, which has left her with an incredibly abnormal amount of chaotic magic even after its removal. This magic seems to have had interesting effects on Saccharine, the full breadth of which is still left to be discovered.

#digital art #ticcitavvi artwork #art #artwork #digital artwork #fanart #Mlp #pinkie pie #twilight sparkle #next gen #Mlp next gen #mlp fanart #mlp fankid

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 9**

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: you have to face a full afternoon with Mia, Emily and, more surprisingly, Andrea, but it turns out to be an enlightening time. Meanwhile, you and Frankie start to need more from each other.

word count: 6k

WARNINGS: face sitting, handjob, cowgirl (unsafe)

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

A/N: huge thank you to @cheshire-noir​ for beta reading this mess, ily. Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

gif: @trashcora​ 

series masterlist | AO3

If there was an award for ignorance, you’d be certain to win first prize.

Within the next three weeks, you have avoided Frankie like the plague. And it worked; the more you ignored, the better you felt. You needed time to process everything and to reach to a realistic conclusion, and having wandering hands with a man who was more or less still committed to another woman wasn’t the way to go.

But, with you being you and carrying some sort of karmic debt towards the universe which clearly has beef with you, the call you receive on a slightly warmer Friday evening in March takes you aback.

“Hey, are you free tomorrow?” Andrea’s surprisingly excited voice asks.

“I think so. Why?”

“Emily and Mia are coming over for dinner and drinks. You know, a girl’s night in. Wanna join us?”

The invitation leaves you dumbfounded.

“You still with me?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Overthinking.”

“Been there.”

You both giggle, albeit the huge gap in your stomach.

“So what do you say? Are you in?”

Andrea probably needs friendly shoulders for support, and as far as she’s concerned, you are a potential friend to her. But the invitation might turn out to be something even better: an opportunity. This could be your chance to come clean to her, explain it all and hope you won’t be found murdered the next day.

“I’m in,” you smile.

“Great!”

“Do you need me to bring anything?”

“I got everything we could need, but if you feel like bringing wine or anything, no problem at all. I’m sure we’ll find great use for it.”

You giggle. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll text you the address.”

“Great. I’ll see you ladies tomorrow.”

When you hang up, you already know the kind of wine you’ll bring with you. You need something with a big percentage of alcohol. If this would be pre-drinking before a rave, you’d just be bringing a bottle of vodka to take the edge off of everyone, but given that Andrea will probably be cooking, things are likely to be a little classier than what’s going on inside your head.

Another night of restless sleep awaits you, and you can’t do much of anything the next day. After all, you are about to have dinner with the woman whose man you’ve slept with twice, and have been in love with for a decade. It’s not an easy conversation to have, but it needs to be had. And afterwards, no matter the outcome, you will talk to Frankie as well. The mess you’ve created has to be cleaned up.

You stare at the address Andrea texted you last night, realizing it’s not far from your own apartment. Five blocks away. So you decide to just walk, take advantage of the brisk air that surrounds you in the early spring. You carry with you a bottle of red wine, an expensive one, in hopes of this being a way to loosen up everyone before you have your big talk with Andrea.

You think of her in ways you normally wouldn’t. You wonder how often she’s cried herself to sleep since the break from Frankie. You wonder how often she tried calling or texting him, or thought about him in general—particularly alone at night. And you wonder what exactly prompted her to suggest the break in the first place.

Has she done something similar? Is she feeling guilty about it and needs a time-out to think about everything?

Either way, you want to find out something tonight. Anything that might ease your conscience, really.

You ring the doorbell, smelling food already. The apartment building is very nice and modest, as you fleetingly notice, standing outside the door. Then, you’re met with Andrea’s benevolent and rather radiant face.

“Hi, come on in!”

She’s wearing an apron over jeans and a blouse, and you sneak a gaze at her once you enter the apartment. She’s got no makeup on, and she looks stunning still. But there also seems to be a certain sadness in her eyes. You only know that because you see it in your eyes, too.

Mia and Emily are already there, nursing their glasses of white wine, but they get up to hug you.

“I brought some apple pie and red wine,” you say, exposing them from the bag over your shoulder.

“Mhmmm, yum,” Emily coos, taking a whiff.

“Thank you so much! You can put them on the counter.”

You do as you’re told while the girls inspect your gifts. “Whoa! This is an expensive bottle of wine!” Mia exclaims.

“Seems like a good night to open it,” you smile.

“Tell you what, if this thing with Will doesn’t work, I might call you up because you sure know how to treat a girl right.”

You raise your eyebrows, then chuckle, the sound reverberating across the place. It’s pretty spacious and modest; you walk towards Andrea, willing to make yourself useful, all while Mia pours you a glass of white wine.

“Anything I can do?” you ask Andrea.

“It’s alright, I’m almost done. Thank you.”

“Homemade lasagna and wine? You’re a treat.”

“Barely here for a few minutes and there’s already too many flirtatious comments. Save it for your partners, ladies,” Andrea teases.

“The guys aren’t here tonight.”

“Amen to that.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but sometimes they can be a bit too—“

“Testosterone-y?”

All three girls turn to look at you with an amused face.

“How on earth did you and Rose survive them?” Emily asks. “In high school, no less.”

“Well, we ignored them a lot. Then again, Benny was the one with a lot of flirtatious comments to make, so we mostly ignored him.”

Emily chuckles. “Figures.”

“They talked a big game, but they were innocent. When it came to doing anything, they were wusses.”

“Figures,” Mia giggles in her wine glass.

You take a sip of your wine as well, allowing it to travel through your stomach, veins and body, warming up your extremities.

“I really like the place, by the way,” you say cautiously. “Is it a rental?”

“It’s my cousin’s place, actually. She’s letting me stay here until things pick up. Hopefully. She’s away for the weekend, which I figured is the perfect opportunity for some girl talk.”

“Speaking of which, what’s going on between you and Frankie?” Emily intervenes. “Any updates?”

Andrea inhales, the question weighing heavily on her. You can tell she’s at a crossroads of some sort, though you are uncertain as to what it is about.

“Not really,” she finally answers with a big sigh.

Seeing her struggle, half there and half not, you go to her side and pick up the plates and utensils, smile, and start laying them on the dinner table.

“We haven’t spoken since we took the break,” she admits. “It was better this way, but I think now… I miss him.”

“Of course you do! God, I’d go crazy if Will and I were ever in this situation,” Mia says. “It’s only natural when you love someone this much.”

Andrea remains silent, and you notice that immediately. You don’t make much of it, but you do take notice. It might not be anything, while it may be something. Or maybe it’s just your mind, desperately clinging onto any hope that this messy situation will resolve itself without real intervention.

Frankie might’ve been a coward all those years ago, but you are one now too.

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about this tonight,” you intervene. “It’s a girl’s night. We’re here to have amazing food, curtesy of Andrea, drink wine and laugh.”

“She’s absolutely right. No boy talk tonight,” Andrea smiles in agreement.

“Maybe some boy talk,” Mia grins devilishly.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Hmm. Let’s see, how about… what’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

The other girls, including you, make a face, although visibly intrigued by the premise.

“No preparation, just straight to it, huh? Not sure we should disclose such sensitive information though,” you say.

“Come on! It’s good fun.”

“You forget I don’t have any experience with any of the guys.”

Mia frowns. “Really? So you and Santi never—?”

You roll your eyes, taking another sip of your wine. “First of all, I am too sober for this conversation, and second of all, no, we never went that far.”

“I would’ve at least fooled around a bit,” Mia shrugs. “Lord knows that’s one of my very first experiences with Will.”

“Okay, but you have to have a best sex story.”

“What if I don’t?”

The statement makes all the girls stare at you momentarily, the silence installing itself in between the four of you.

“Wait, you’ve never—are you—?” Mia dares ask, realizing she might’ve overstepped her boundaries. “If you are, it’s totally cool.”

“No, no. It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of uh… mind-blowing sex you keep replaying when you’re in a dry spell and stuff.”

You gulp, hoping there is no transparency about yourself as you make that claim. For safety measures, you avoid eye contact with Andrea in the meantime.

“Never?” Emily checks, blushing herself.

“I’m guessing if I were to ask either of you…”

“Yeah, gonna have to go with Benny. The man’s a wild card in the sack.”

You purse your lips together, hoping all of this information will be erased by tomorrow.

“Will might be stoic and all, but let me tell you—“

“In as little detail as you can, please,” you smile.

There is flustered laughter shared amongst the four of you. “So Benny and Will, without hesitation,” you recap.

“Yes.”

“Andy?”

All eyes turn to Andrea, with the latter inhaling deeply, then exhaling.

“It is safe to assume it’s Frankie, right?”

“Of course.”

You drink from your wine, avoiding eye contact with her, even though your stomach nearly chews itself from all the pressure and adrenaline running wild in your body. You’re unsure, but you think you might’ve detected hesitation on Andrea’s part, or at least a guilt-filled sip of wine as she said that. Something in you tells you that it can’t be just pre-wedding jitters that made Andrea suggest that break.

You know that if it were you, you’d never want a break from Frankie, ever. Even under tremendous stress.

“He can get very into it,” Andrea grins, her cheeks flushed. “He’s still Frankie, so there’s laughter sometimes and all that, but other times… especially when he goes down on you. He’s so into it, you nearly black out every time.”

“No way!”

“Swear to God.”

While Mia and Emily exclaim and cheer in the most appreciative manner, you do your best to not choke on the wine. Memories of Frankie’s mouth devouring you overcome you, and your cheeks get just as flushed.

Argument could be made that you’re rather using the moment of bonding to your advantage before you give the strike, but the truth is, you just want things to go well before you can steal a moment of privacy with Andrea and confess your sins. You know Frankie is struggling a lot right now, at least you think he is, and it’s likely a little more time will pass until he takes matters into his own hands and confesses.

The feminist in you wants to get to it first.

“What’s going on with Rose and Santi?” Andrea asks cheekily sometime after the third glass of wine. “They seem to have hit it off.”

“Oh, they really hit it off. Went over to Rose’s place last week to invite her for a spontaneous coffee and heard sounds I’d much rather forget.”

Andrea chuckles. “You know how it is when you first get together with someone. All that tension, laughter and all that.”

You gulp, feeling your throat drier than when you began drinking, so you finish your drink, ensuring you remain on the second glass.

“Haven’t you ever had someone like that?” she asks you boldly. “Someone who gets your heart racing so fast you doubt you’re even breathing? Someone with whom you’d unleash your nastiest and neediest sounds?”

Again you gulp, purposely holding your breath for as long as you can.

“I hope I can have that someday,” you say. “I hope I can freely release my nastiest, neediest sounds one day without having to hold back, or… fearing that I shouldn’t.”

Mia and Emily giggle, but Andrea only smiles at you, the mimic fairly bittersweet. You’re pretty sure you’re outing yourself with those not-so-cryptic words, but so far Andrea remains a wonderful hostess.

Rose’s words coo in your head now: “You won’t say that after you try being indecent once or twice in your life.” Oh, but you have been indecent; twice now, even thrice, and while it may make you feel alive, it also makes you guilt-riddled. It’s not technically cheating, but it’s not exactly clean, either. Andrea might still choose to return to Frankie, by the looks of it, and when that will happen, all of this would’ve been just a big, horrible mistake you will have to live with for the rest of your life.

The topic of love and lust, you avoid as much as you can for the next couple of hours while the girls happily exchange such information and get tipsy. You dare to have a third glass of wine, but that is where you cut yourself off. You do not need another drunken encounter with a certain someone or regrettable drunken choices.

You watch bemusedly as Mia and Emily sneak in the rest of the wine bottle to go to the balcony and giggle over their respective partners, which leaves you and Andrea alone. If there was ever any chance, this is it. So you take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and initiate the much dreaded conversation.

“Can I ask you something? It’s a bit personal,” you warn.

“Of course.”

“Why did you want to take a break from Frankie? You guys seem so happy together.”

Andrea looks at you, her face dropping in the slightest, and she puts her glass away.

“Before I got into medical school, I was a bit of a wild card. Both of my parents are esteemed people with big reputations, intimidating… there was a lot of pressure on me, so I lashed out. Drinking, partying, sleeping around… haven’t exactly made the right choices. But I was interested in medicine, so when I told them that I wanted to go to medical school, they were thrilled. They’ve made their terms pretty clear: school, fellowship, getting my life together, and then finding someone nice, get married, settle down with a good reputation and a wonderful husband. Or wife. They were so desperate to see me settled down that they were okay with even that. If you knew my parents, you’d know how serious that is.”

You giggle, putting your glass away too.

“As faith would have it, I met Frankie during my first years in medical school. I was working at a bar to pay some of my tuition off We instantly became friends, and I liked him. I’ve grown to love him. I learned to love him. And I still do. He’s warm and kind and sweet… everything a good, real man should be.”

“Then what…?”

You fail to see the point, until you finally do. You see it all over Andrea’s face, and in that moment, the sympathy you feel for her aches as much as you do.

“This is not what you really want, is it?” you whisper.

“I know it’s what I should want, because I do love him,” she replies. “But it’s just not quite… right, you know? Does any of this make even the slightest sense? Without me sounding like a horrible person?”

You nod. “He’s not the big love of your life like your parents have advertised. He’s not that feeling of… home, not really. Love should feel like you’re coming home, in all of its coziness and warmth.”

“Yes! So you know what I’m talking about.”

“I have a slight idea.”

Andrea smiles at you, seemingly a little eased, but it only grows your restlessness and anxiety.

“I’ve done some mistakes in the past, and I have done some recent mistakes too,” she says, voice breaking. “I am by no means proud of them, but… I will make things right. I’m just afraid it might be too late. I think I should stick this out, see it through. My parents were over the moon about me and Frankie and they practically set the whole engagement up. So doing this… it’s the right thing.”

Your first instinct is to grab her hand, squeeze it and thus reassure her, and Andrea seems baffled as you do so. But you don’t pull away. You want her to know that you do not mean to hurt her, in any way. Even if it’s through one simple touch.

“It’s not the right thing if it has you feeling this way,” you tell her. “It’s not, because this is not how you want things to be. If anything, it’s… unfair. But—do you want to see this through?”

Just as she smiles brightly at you, you see her face change, causing you more nervousness.

“I have to,” she answers, though you have difficulty believing her. “My parents can be very intimidating, as I said. And if this wedding doesn’t take place in June… I’ll be that wild teenager again, incapable of making the proper choices.”

“You aren’t.”

“Can I ask you something?”

You gulp, then nod. You’ve never felt more paralyzed in your whole life.

“Frankie told me about you, how close you guys were in high school,” she starts. “I can only assume he fucked up things.”

“Why?”

“The way he was so determined to avoid even looking at you? That is textbook guilty Frankie Morales. He’s like a puppy, either his eyes get too big and wet that you can’t resist them and he clings to you, or he avoids you altogether.”

You break into laughter, much to your own surprise. “Sounds about right.”

“So what did he do?”

“He uh… he stopped talking to me a few months after I moved abroad. No warning, nothing. He just… left.”

“That must’ve hurt like hell. I’m sure you care about him very much.”

“I did.”

“And now?”

You falter, afraid once again that you are painfully obvious. But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe this is the push you need.

“I still care about him,” you confess. “It doesn’t just go away.”

“I figured as much.”

“Andrea… I’m sorry.”

She stares at you like you’ve gone completely crazy, and maybe you did, but you need at least one win for today. You need at least the apology to come out of your mouth, otherwise you won’t ever forgive yourself.

“I am so sorry,” you repeat, eyes teary.

“What are you apologizing for?” she asks with a little adorable chuckle.

“Just… I’m sorry. Sometimes I care too much. That’s why I like to keep people at bay, it’s easier. But I do care. I care so much, it—it haunts me.”

The way she stares at you while you’re on the verge of mental collapse is more than just sympathetic. It’s understanding. You’re waiting for her to explode, to confront you or anything similar because there is no possible way she does not intuit, in the slightest, what you’re talking about, but the reaction never comes.

But you do get something you wouldn’t have thought of. Andrea leans in and hugs you, and a tear rolls down your cheek in spite of your best efforts to conceal it. You’re in too much shock to speak, but it might be for the best right now. You relish into the hug, reciprocating, crying silently.

When you make eye contact with her again, she wipes your cheek, and you tremble.

“Why are you crying?” she asks, like your reaction is the one that’s ridiculous.

“I am not an evil person. I don’t mean harm, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want it to happen this way, not at all. I should’ve stopped it earlier, way earlier. I am so sorry. If caring for someone makes you an idiot, I am the biggest idiot on this planet.”

Andrea hugs you again, rubbing your back gently in the process. You hadn’t expected that reaction out of you, but you suppose that all of what you’ve been hiding has been so bottled up, it was bound to be released under one form or the other.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” she tries to coax you.

“A smidge.”

You both laugh, in spite of everything that’s eating at you, and she wipes your cheeks again, staring at you in the most serious way.

“You can’t blame yourself for caring about someone,” she says, and you instantly nod your head.

“Andrea, it’s more than that. It’s—haunting. It’s consuming me.”

“Love makes us all idiots. But it’s not a crime to care, even like this.”

You try to clear your head, and you downright stare at her, trying to see if the nonsensical stuff you’ve muttered so far makes any sense for her.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m getting at here,” you say, heart in your throat.

Andrea smiles, and it is the most bittersweet gesture you have ever seen in your life.

“It’s okay,” she says, leaving you dumbfounded.

“It’s not! Frankie and I—“

She holds your hands, looking right at you. “You don’t have to say it.”

Your eyes widen in panic. Blood goes cold in your veins, and your whole body freezes “You know?”

“Not know know, but Frankie’s spent too much time and energy into making sure he’s not even sitting around you for me not to guess that something’s up. You guys were best friends in high school. Things couldn’t have turned out so bad that you were this distant.”

“Andrea—“

“Don’t. We’re not together right now. We’re separated.”

“I know, but still…”

“I know Frankie, and sometime soon, he’s gonna burst through that door and ramble on about… whatever it is.”

You frown, shaking your head. You’re more confused than before; this doesn’t feel like relief. It feels more puzzling and trickier than what you’ve been dealing with so far.

“How the hell are you so composed and down to earth right now?” you ask her.

Andrea doesn’t respond. That, in return, brews potential answers in your mind, ones that you do not want to confront her about. This is a conversation to be had between partners, and your part is more or less done, in spite of its anti-climactic result.

Either she’s the coolest person on this planet, or there’s something even worse in the middle.

“You guys should really see the sky, it’s full of stars!” Emily announces all of a sudden.

A while after that, you’re all on the balcony, admiring Boston’s skyline, clear and filled with nothing but stars. There’s not much you say after that; but your mind, your restless mind, it spins and works overtime, filled with endless questions.

Quite frankly, you’re surprised at yourself. Sitting here, in front of this door, at this hour, it also feels cheap, but you’ve practically gotten that boulder off your chest, and now you’re guided solely by your emotions. You’ve never truly acted on impulse, especially not when it came to how you are feeling, but now seems a good time as any.

You knock several times, waiting restlessly. When the door finally opens and you’re greeted by Frankie’s fluffy, messy hair and his puzzled gaze, you brace yourself. You walk right by him, inside of the apartment that he shared with Andrea less than two months ago, and you’re feeling both bold and insane.

“I lied,” you open your speech, staring right back at a very confused Frankie.

“What?”

“You saw right through me. I can’t lie to you, I never could. I could lie to everyone but you.”

Frankie braces himself, half curious as to where you’re headed with all that, and half dumbfounded already.

“So here it is,” you say, advancing to him. “I do love you. I’ve loved you since I was eighteen years old, and I am damn sure I will love you when I will be seventy eight. You are the love of my life. You are the reason why none of the relationships or flings or flirts that I have had in the past ten years have worked. I don’t blame you, or even myself. It’s… chemistry. It doesn’t just go away. And believe me, I—I have tried. Oh, how I’ve tried. I have tried… so fucking hard, it exhausted me. It drained me, mentally and emotionally. Loving you is both the best and worst thing that could’ve happened to me. So I am here, telling you that I love you with every fiber of my being because I know you love me too. And because I want you to make an informed decision.”

He frowns, hung onto every word you just spewed at him ever so passionately and intensely.

“I want you to have all the facts before you decide how the rest of your life will go,” you continue, breathless yourself. “Which is why I’m asking you—“

“To choose you.”

You stare at each other, emotions vibrant in your chests.

“No,” you tell him sharply, shakily. “I am asking you to man up, get your shit together and talk to Andrea. We can’t keep doing this, not like this. We can’t pretend it doesn’t mean anything because it does.”

“I know.”

His voice is soft and understanding, and that in return breaks you in unexpected ways. You reckon, at this moment, he’s just as overwhelmed as you are, if not more.

“Talk to her,” you resume. “Because each time you leave, you chip a little more at my heart and I’m not sure how much more she can handle. Every time you walk out the door, away from me, you find a new way to hurt me, and I have to relive it all over again.”

“I never wanted that. It kills me to do it, I just—“

“I know, I get it. I do. What I said before, all of it… it’s true. And I only said it because tonight was weird and emotional as fuck, and I am done hiding and lying and pretending like none of it was ever real. It hurts me, it hurts you, and it hurts Andrea too.”

“I know. I had to go, though. Last time we—I had to.”

“And I understand that. But I need you to understand me, too. I’m not a homewrecker or a cheater. Neither are you.”

Frankie is barely breathing by this point, even less so when he feels your breath on his face, your presence both soothing and startling.

“Andrea and I are separated now,” he mutters, feeling his mental faculties weaken with each second spent in your presence.

“I know. But it doesn’t really diminish what we’re doing here.”

“You—you control me.”

You back away momentarily, examining his face with dismay. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you nearly mock him.

“You do,” Frankie pushes. “You absolutely fucking do. I belong to you. You think I don’t want to be a better man? You think that I don’t want to dedicate myself completely to Andrea, to our engagement and our life together? You don’t think I want to be the honorable man you left?”

You snicker, feeling the pinnacle of the evening finally settling in at its most emotional moment.

“I didn’t leave you. It was the other way around, if you’ve forgotten.”

“I could never forget the worst thing I’ve ever done! Fuckin’ Pope won’t let me forget it, but he has no fucking clue that I am my own worst enemy, and nothing he could ever tell me about that decision to cut you out of my life could compare to the hatred that I have for myself. Nothing, ever.”

You watch him breathless, eyes teary once more, but not from regret. Not this time.

“I love you,” Frankie mutters, clinging onto your hands like he’s drowning and they’re a life vest. “I am so in love with you, you have no idea. I am so sorry for being too much of a coward to tell you back then, but I am telling you now, at the worst possible time… I love you. You’re the love of my life. My heart’s so full of you, I can’t really call it my own anymore. My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face, by the sound of your voice and the way you breathe. I, I for one… I can’t breathe when you’re not here. Feels like I’ve been holding my breath and drowning for the past ten years.”

“Francisco…”

The moment your forehead touches his, you know you’re a goner. But you both need this, you both need to feel this moment as deeply as the words cutting you.

“In two months you’ve managed to bring me back to life and destroy me at the same time,” he breathes. “I can’t sleep, I’m—I’m useless without you. I watch for you, I exist for you. I wanna just… be free. Be free with you.”

“So do it,” you say, your touch featherlight on his cheek. “Prove that everything you just told me is true. I don’t wanna hide, I don’t wanna break Andrea’s heart, and I don’t wanna sleep with you in a hurry, with our pants barely down.”

“I’ll make things right. I’ll make things right by you, by her, by everyone. I fucking swear.”

He cups your cheeks, pulling you in and simply holding you. When you gaze at him, you notice the tears in his eyes, the exasperation in them, all of it. You crumble on the spot.

“I told Andrea,” you say.

He frowns in the slightest. “You did?”

“Kind of. It was very weird. Still not sure she knew what I meant, but she seemed sure the two of you would talk soon. But I did, anyway. Now it’s your turn.”

He nods frantically, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on your lips that you know you should be rejecting, but God, it feels so soft and caring you can’t help it. You can’t push away, not anymore; you simply can’t, not for the life of you.

So you kiss him tenderly, like all the time in the world is at your feet. You kiss him deeply, your mouth a hot furnace emanating sheer desperation albeit the rather gentle moment. He feels it, too; he feels it all through the way your body is glued to his, and he finally allows himself to live in the moment, to enjoy this moment in all of its inhibitory and needy glory.

He lets himself fall on the couch, with you atop of him, your hair tingly over his face and your warm breath a gentle awakening that yes, this is in fact happening, and yes, he’d been granted a second chance to make things right—even if it’s complicated and messy. He lets your hands roam over his body, relishing in the way they settle right above his crotch and the tantalizing way you make eye contact with him. He gives you no indications as to what his intentions are, and yet he is still shook when you seemingly read his mind.

Frankie watches in a blurry haze as you dispose of the clothes that cover up your upper half, realizing that he’s never actually seen you naked. He can’t help the appreciative sigh which leaves his watering mouth, nor can he help the way his calloused hands lift you up halfway in an attempt to help you undress completely. Then, you return the favor and help him undress as well, your emotions all over the place as you gaze at the marvelous body now exposed before you.

Frankie instantly begins to press kisses over your neck and collarbones, and, since the day has been weird and challenging enough, you reach below, wrapping your hand around his cock and watching his face contort in mixtures of pleasure and pain alike.

His moans are growing with each stroke you give him, and you are absolutely enamored by the way he looks and sounds. You still don’t feel well about the whole situation, given that it remains unclear, but then why does this feel so incredibly satisfying?

He’s trying his hardest to stay conscious, but when you lean down below to play with his balls, he grunts louder than ever before, eyes closed and head backwards in the most forbidden ecstasy.

You don’t get through with it, though; next thing you know, Frankie’s hands grip the flesh of your thighs, shifting you so that your core is on his face. You hold your breath, panicking in the slightest. You’ve never done this before and you’re not sure you’re capable of handling it.

“Frankie—“

“It’s okay. I got you.”

Breathless, you watch him press you all the way onto his face. You let out an exceptionally loud moan, much to your own surprise, the sensation of his tongue lapping at your folds unlike what you’ve felt before. From this angle, as your cunt rests on his whole face, it feels like he’s drinking straight from you. You can feel him everywhere, from your cunt, all the way to your thighs and the way he’s grabbing them and the way his cock is resting hard against his stomach. Heat spreads dangerously under your skin, nesting in your veins as his mouth diligently eats you out. You think of how hungry and insatiable he is for you, how utterly needy, and you damn near lose your mind.

The little voice at the back of your head returns with the same famished more. You need more, you need… him, completely. So you rip your own pleasure away from your body, rubbing down his body till your hand curls around his cock and guides it to your soaked entrance.

That first push through your walls is maddening. You both moan as you start moving in circles, having Frankie watch you, absolutely mesmerized. He holds you closely, and after a little while he even reaches to your face to kiss you. It’s such a rush, being inside of you and kissing you, holding you so close. In this moment, as he starts to thrust upwards to meet with the movements of your hips, he never wants to leave you or see you go, ever again. All he wants to know is the taste of your lips, the heat of your pussy and the unilateral breaths as you try to steady yourself while you’re on top of him.

You can finally feel the day’s tension weighing heavily on you, residing deep within your bones. Because now you finally allow yourself to let it all go, and when you feel your muscles contracting, your walls fluttering around Frankie, your mind suddenly goes blank with a peculiar clarity.

You come with a loud cry, and so does Frankie, mere seconds after you. He helps you ride out your orgasm by pressing his torso to yours, kissing you messily in between. You then cup his cheeks, staring at him with the goofiest smile on your face.

“Stay,” he asks you. “Just tonight, till it all blows over.”

Frankie’s barely moving inside of you, but he still is nonetheless, and it’s definitely impacting his decision-making skills at this point.

“Okay,” you concede, just as he’s pulling out with a slight grunt.

You kiss him sweetly, the seal of your lips pressed together a promise of a better tomorrow.

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[peachsayshi]

WHO SAYS I LOVE YOU FIRST? (Pt. 2) (Dad!Sukuna x F!Reader)

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

a/n: this is part two of this little drabble scenario but Sukuna gets his own prompt because I’m connecting it to the ongoing Dad!Sukuna series! my requests are closed at the moment but I plan on opening them up when I finish what is in my queue - if you have any ideas you want to submit it’ll only be for hc’s or prompts related to any of the fics that I’m currently writing! (I would appreciate some fluff or angst prompts lol most of the stuff is all smut requests) I hope you enjoy this 💖 - I’m definitely going to elaborate on the whole story between this pair when I write my three part series! - let me know if you would like to be added to my Sukuna tag list or full tag list! 

TAGS: sukuna has a child, angst :c, sukuna is also an asshole, alludes to past abuse (not with Sukuna)

Sukuna stood before you with a dumbstruck expression resting across his face, while trying to comprehend what possessed you to confess those words to him…in the middle of an argument no less. 

He can’t even remember why everything escalated to this point.

One minute you were snuggled in his arms and the next you two had sprung away from each other and started bickering about everything under the sun.

Sukuna was growing frustrated with your odd behavior, and you were tired of him constantly brushing you off. 

He wanted to be an active influence in Rai’s life and you weren’t happy with how he treated his role as a father like a twisted game to fulfill a dynastic fantasy he had. 

He reminded you in that moment that Rai wasn’t just a human, and you rebutted that he was more like you than Sukuna would ever care to admit. 

Back and forth you both dissected everything wrong about your relationship, until the pain made you unravel and you parted to lips to spill a secret you had been keeping guarded up to this point. 

“I love you… ” you admitted, and the surprise settled across your face as the silence hung in the air. 

Sukuna swallowed the lump in his throat, taking in the sight of his beautiful and vulnerable concubine whose knuckles began turning white as your hands clenched tightly into fists, while you patiently waited for him to say...something. 

The truth is, Sukuna’s mind drew a blank.

For the first time in his long life, someone had actually rendered him speechless. 

He didn’t understand this conflicting emotion that plagued humans, one which made them incredibly soft and emphasized their weaknesses. 

He especially couldn’t wrap his mind that you - the witness to the extremeties of his violence, the devotee that had accepted him in his purest form, and the martyr who risked her own life whenever you stood your ground against his unruly wrath - would ever consider him with any kind of affection.

He took one stride toward you, then another, moving at a slow pace which only made your heart beat faster. He brushed his knuckles lightly across your cheek before hardening his gaze and narrowing his cold eyes.

“An innocent mistake on your part, my pet. You’ll soon learn to get over it.”

An audible gasp escaped you, the hurt washing over you in waves from how quickly your king had come to reject you. 

You didn’t even ask for his permission to be dismissed, and turned on your heel before storming your way out of his bedroom where you had been comfortably residing in over the last few weeks.

Sukuna believed that time would heal the wounds engraved in your heart - even though a small part of himself regretted the way he handled this particular situation.

He promised himself that he would at least respect your boundaries until you were ready to approach him, but as time passed he found himself growing restless from how adamant you were on distancing yourself from him. 

You avoided him at every cost, ensuring that you were never around his vicinity whenever he would stroll the palace grounds. He would ask the other servants about you, but you already gave them perfectly crafted stories with reasons as to why you had been kept occupied.  As his patience began wearing thin, Sukuna decided that he would use his free time with Rai instead in the hopes that he may lure you to his presence through the child you shared. 

Sitting on his throne one morning, Sukuna sighed quietly in defeat when he realized that nothing was enough to make you push this particular argument aside. A week had almost passed now, and there was still no sign of you.

He ran his his fingers through his son’s red hair, feeling Rai tilting his head underneath his touch as he looked up at his father with fiery, warm eyes. 

They may share similar physical traits, but the feelings conveyed through the child’s compassionate stare was wholeheartedly yours. 

A tender glance that made an unfamiliar warmth spread across the cursed king’s chest.

He merely had enough of you giving him the cold shoulder and decided to show up at your quarters one night.

He didn’t care how late the hour was, nor did he take your privacy into any consideration when he slid the screen doors wide open. 

To his surprise you were awake, and he found you leaning against the window as you were staring out into the distance.

He made eye contact with you, realizing that you regarded him with neither surprise or fear.

He could tell that you had been expecting this moment, which gave him the confidence to approach you without hesitation. 

His fingers held your chin when he stood in front of you, and he tilted your up face up towards him before speaking. 

“I will take you to bed tonight.” 

The sentence wasn’t a request, but an order. He had every intention of disrobing you right where you were before having you in ways that would make your voice carry across the grounds.

He did very little to hide his own desperation, and your fingers squeezed the overlap of your kimono as you held the front panel tightly close your chest. 

Sukuna lightly trace your bottom lip with his thumb, tugging at it slightly as he arched to lean forward. He rubbed the side of his nose on yours, his warm breath making your lashes flutter and you found yourself parting your lips naturally before catching yourself from falling into his trap.

“No.” 

Your words were barely a whisper, and it took a moment for Sukuna to even realize that you had spoken before he froze from delivering his kiss. 

You felt his hand drop away from your jaw, his fingers stretching out to curl around your neck as he made direct eye contact with you. 

He look incredibly displeased.

He has never heard you defy him under any circumstances.

When you were brought to him as a sacrifice he expected you to cower the first night he planned on taking you to his bed, but you accepted him without any question. He wasn’t used to your rejection because never turned him away, and at this very second he found himself growing more frustrated than anticipated.

“You have duties to fulfill, pet... services to perform...” Sukuna reminded, dragging his lips away from yours as he breathed in the scent of your skin before gliding them dow your neck, “…how are you of use to me if you don’t comply?” 

His words made you tremble, but you maintained your composure as you held your head high. 

“You tell me...” 

You challenged him again, making your king pull away from you as he looked at you with confusion and annoyance. 

“I’ve given you a whole new life, and this is how you thank me?” he scoffed. “Did you forget how easily men used you...” 

He ripped open old wounds that took you a long time to heal, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks at the mention of your haunting past.

“My past is no different than my present,” you reminded him, “You use me for your own pleasure and if I hadn’t given you a son then you wouldn’t have treated me any differently...” 

Yes I would, Sukuna argued back in his mind, but he wouldn’t let those words slip and show even an ounce of vulnerability.

He had no idea why you were winding him up this much, no comprehension as to why he couldn’t rationalize the maddening emotions that were conflicting his mind.

He didn’t want to admit that he had been yearning for you every second of every day, nor did he want confess that he couldn’t look at any of the other concubines without feeling sick to his stomach. 

He looped one arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest and making your feet hover off the ground form his sheer strength. 

He pinched the front of his brows, his nostrils flaring as his pupils shrunk in size and he could feel your hand claw at his arms as you attempted to push him off you.

He brought mouth lips to your ear, murmuring in a low but sinister voice that had you trembling from his cruel words.

“If you’re unhappy with your position, you’re free to leave.” 

When he released you from his embrace is when you felt your heart shatter, unable to withstand all the cracks that he had already inflicted. 

Sukuna wasn’t stupid - you knew that he was giving you ultimatum to make you rethink your current behavior towards him by reminding you of how much you had to lose. 

Serving your king guaranteed you safety, a roof of over your head and a warm meal. You would never have to worry about Rai under the protection of his father, knowing full well that if any of the jujutsu sorcerers got wind of his existence that they would kill him faster than you can even blink. 

Yet, you had grown tired of compliance, exhausted yourself of having to obey and submit with every breath you took. You hated that you’ve shed more tears than laughed, that death stood by you with every threat and insult, and that your love was only worth empty bribes and gold.

These last few weeks made you believe in a dream that never seemed tangible when vicious King treated you like a lover - sharing a bed with you, ensuring that your were pampered and nourished, and taking away any formalities that asserted his power of you.

You were beginning to see a glimpse of a beatiful future - one where you no longer used your body as a means to end, where your son could grow without ever having to comprehend the struggles of how harsh this cruel world could be, and where you could truly give all the parts of you to the one person who mattered.

How could Sukuna have been this blind sided by your confession when you thought that some part of him loved you in return? 

You wiped a rogue tear away from your face, acknowledging in that moment that you didn’t want to live the rest of your life being viewed as an object from the being you loved. 

You didn’t know how to survive on your own, but if liberating yourself meant a small chance of unconditional happiness, you realized it was a risk worth taking. 

*** 

TAG: @chemstrails-club @mrsmorgenstern @pensivespecter @ekaterinatepes @bloombb @nanamikentcs

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you

[plaguedocboi]

Isn't it weird how this website worships plague doctors when they were incompetent morons that got poor people killed

ATTENTION EVERYONE

I CALLED THIS BACK IN 2020. I KNEW IF PLAGUECORE WENT ON FOR LONG ENOUGH WE WOULD EVENTUALLY HAVE PEOPLE WHO DECIDED IT WAS ‘PROBLEMATIC’!!! I WAS RIGHT!!

Hello sir, this is my first plague doctor hatemail. I’m actually quite excited about it!

That aside, do you understand that plague doctors were around in the 17th and 18th centuries, and that germ theory wasn’t invented until about 100 years later? What were they supposed to do? Magically know that the plague was spread by tiny invisible organisms and was only treatable with antibiotics, which didn’t exist then?

Plague doctors were hired by the town to treat everyone, rich and poor. Yes, there were probably doctors who exploited people and kept “good” treatment behind a paywall, but what the fuck else is new? Point is, plague doctors were hired to help people and they did the best they could with the limited knowledge they had, going so far as to invent a primitive hazmat suit to avoid getting or transmitting disease before they even knew what “disease” was.

Of course, based on your blog which I very briefly visited to see if I should address you as “sir” or something else, I don’t expect you to read any of this. Quite frankly I’m just kind of excited that I saw this exact situation coming more than 2 years ago. I feel like I can predict the future!!

#asks

[jd-leifdeloos]

Welcome, to the Redditors, who are new to this chaos incarnate of a site! Let’s do some etiquette.

Most of this isn’t main etiquette that is immediately taught to you, so let’s go over the lesser mentioned shit

People here are more chill then over on reddit, reddit has organisation, subreddits etc. we have a tagging system but it’s not extremely frequent in use other than filtering things out.

We over here haven’t got curtesy in the way reddit does, everyone’s nice (mostly) but you didn’t unalive and all that you died. You can say whatever the fuck you want. Nobody cares, worst case is no one sees it.

Reblogs:

If you were to Upvote on Reddit, Reblog it here. You may choose to add things like text or tags but this is not needed. You can also reblog multiple times if you really love something and feel like boosting it! As tumblr gives all credit back to the og poster! Though, Do not repost, it is considered rude.

Here’s something cool:

Vanilla extract is a fairly common term in Tumblr mostly used for someone who wants to see what everyone else picks, and base from that.

You can follow blogs, yes. But people who follow you? It just doesn’t matter. No one cares.

WE ENCOURAGE YOU TO BLOCK

Tumblr is great but we have many bots, especially pornbots. Be careful, avoid being a default and interacting with default profile pictures, and just pictures of women, for profiles. Block and report those on site. Avoid them like the bubonic plague.

The tweeters are some to avoid a lot of the time, as in the obvious “I’m a Twitter bitch”s try and avoid being like them. Block them, block whoever.

Your mutuals are your besties now, you follow one another’s blogs? Friends. It’s works differently elsewhere but here, it’s a we follow each other, “Want Boba?” Kind of thing.

Likes and reblogs: If you like something? Like it (the heart) if you love it, and want to boost it, reblog it, (the square recycling symbol) add some tags etc, also, if you want to talk about something based on that post or to continue it, do it in the tags!

Thank you for reading about tumblr etiquette >:)

#reddit migration #reddit #196 #r/196 #tumblr ettiquette

[a-hazbin-reader]

First of all, adore your blog, it and your writing is wonderful! 💜 Saw some folks chiming in with OCs and I thought I’d share mine!

There’s two because I wanted to make one associated with either trip from the pilot, so, one from the hotel and one Alastor calls in. I’ve decided, in the fic I’m writing with them that the two of them are gonna end up romantic because I can

We’ll start with hotel boi. Locke is a golden fox demon who was originally from Britain. He was a troubled kid, who would run around getting into mischief with his schoolmates, petty theft mostly and lots of it. His father and older brothers joined the fight in World War 2 but he avoided it like the PLAGUE finding any excuse to stay home. The war came to him anyway and he died being crushed by a falling church during the London Blitz. In Hell, he has remained a thief and coward, stealing from overlords and avoiding the consequences by joining Charlie’s hotel. He feels guilty about it, but not guilty enough to fully change (yet). His sins include: Greed and Sloth and maybe Envy a little bit

Lasso hails from the western US, having grown up on a prosperous ranch with her family and helping run their maybe-less-than-legal family business if you know what I mean. In Hell she has taken the form of a massive, muscled bull (I am aware that female cows do not have bull horns and are not used in matador fights but the imagery was too good to pass it up). She had and still has an anger problem and could go into blind rages, Wrath and Pride are her sins of choice. Before she died she was set to be married to a friend of the family and she had been so happy that she had not noticed her beau poisoning her whiskey and she died without the ability to fight back, almost worse to her than the dying itself. Arriving in Hell she was tearing things up until she ran into some trouble, against her will she was pulled into a fighting ring for other sinners’ entertainment, poking and prodding her to make her see red before a fight so she can be as vicious as possible. Alastor stumbled in one day and saw a woman in trouble and helped her out, also seeing a valuable asset. In the time honored Hell tradition, Alastor gained another female bestie that day. He calls on her help to run maintenance and upkeep for the hotel because A) He knows she can do it and B) It’s an exercise in futility which means he can laugh as her bovine nose shoots smoke and fire when she inevitably blows a fuse.

Both of them take a real shine to Charlie and through her help and slowly bonding with each other, maybe they can turn things around. I don’t know (I do know)

STOP THE BULL AND THE THIEF I CAN'T IT'S SO ADORABLE

#I CAN PICTURE THEM #THOSE SILLY LITTLE BABIES #I WANNA SQUEEZE THEM #MAKE SMOKE COME OUT #OF HER SNOOT #RUFFLE HIS FOX EARS #PLS

[questforgalas]

Now that we’re going to enter the frenzy that is a month before the new season, just some reminders for my blog

1. Theory rambles are always welcome. Send them in my asks, ramble away, let your brain go wild because I’m going wild with you

2. This is a positivity blog only so that means no bashing on other fans, no bashing other theories, no being a straight dick. Afraid of something happening in season 3? Totally welcome here, I’m afraid of some things too! But this is a safe and positive space and anyone who tries to make it otherwise will be blocked

3. I will only post content from the official Star Wars, Disney, and creator accounts. I avoid spoilers and leaks like the plague so those will never be posted on here prior to the season (during season, I tag posts accordingly)

4. Let’s have fun

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb

[emiliosandozsequence]

I’m about to start reading Dune. Who are some of your fave Dune posting blogs? I love the stuff you post and I want to follow similar people. Thanks!🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

tbh i don't really follow any blogs that post dune in specific rip because i have Very specific opinions about these books and most people (for whatever reason) do Not align with them so i just tend to avoid them like the plague bc of that 😭💕 that being said!! i know @bella-baxter has been posting about it a lot lately and i've been Loving their web weaves they've been making for it!!

#ask #iwillgiveurest

[thatwildnya]

commission time!

thank you @thicity-dicity for that sweet succulent cash money i hope you enjoy the first batch!

general pre-relationship headcanons

Heartslabyul edition

Riddle

this poor boy doesn’t realize his feelings until someone points it out

he’s so confused why he can’t stay mad at you

you keep breaking rules but he feels bad doing anything more than a slap on the wrist

thinks you put a curse on him

then Cater is like “maybe u r feeling sexual attraction?”

suddenly everything clicks

he starts screaming and is having a mini breakdown sir please calm down you’re scaring the hedgehogs

if you listen closely you can hear chenya falling from a tree

drew up a hypothesis and puts it to the test dear doitsu just confess you tiny horny teen

his confession is simple, asks you out for dinner and confesses with a bouquet of roses he grew and tended himself

he has an adorable blush and can’t look you in the eyes it’s so cute

when you accept he gets this huge grin on his face and gives your hand a kiss

if you give him a kiss on the cheek he’ll jerk away in surprise sputtering nonsense but he’s still got that adorable grin

will hide his face if you point it out, telling you it’s not true

kiss him on the mouth and he’s out for the count

spends the rest of the night in a daze and barely registers anything

will hold your hand for the rest of the night but only if you initiate

Trey

realizes his feelings fairly quickly but isn’t in a hurry to confess

he’s only 18 there’s no rush for him to find the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with

definitely one to test out the waters before confessing

flirts with you so much he’s bent on making you blush

instead of waiting for you to come to him for help he seeks you out

likes to show off for you (and of course teases you when he’s successful)

Purposely makes the kitchen warmer so he has an excuse to take off his shirt while he bakes OwO

feeds you sweets so much you’ll gain weight if you’re not careful

not that he’ll mind, he finds chubby people attractive he gets this weird urge to feed and spoil them with sweets whenever he sees them

confesses with, surprise surprise, a cake!

when you accept he hugs you and gives your forehead a smooch

glues himself to your side a week

good luck getting away he wants to make sure everyone understands you’re his

Cater

this man takes for fucking ever to finally accept his feelings

you won’t realize his feelings unless you squint

he’s either seeking you out or avoiding you like the plague

please see a therapist you depressed f♢ckboy

spends hours at a time scrolling through your socials if you post a lot

drags you out to visit trendy restaurants and stores

gets pouty if you ignore him

confesses on accident

you’re taking pictures and when he’s editing them you overhear him say ‘ugh I’m down so bad.”

upon realizing what he said he goes

and tries to play it cool he totally planned this what are you talking about

this was the best image i could find through my laptop pls don't come for my ass

his face is red? it’s just a bit hot in here *insert nervous laughter*

you’re inside in the air conditioning. you become concerned.

gives you a suffocating hug when you accept and will pick up and twirl you around if you he can

he’s got a goofy grin and slight blush he looks so cute right now

smack his phone away if he tries to pull a ‘must blog this moment’

don’t worry his case is really sturdy you won’t break it

Ace

this asshat bullies and teases you like a child when he likes someone no questions asked

says the stupidest things to get your attention

‘you think beastmen have to deal with fleas?’ ‘ace you fuckhead it’s 1 in the morning go the fuck to sleep’

drags you to his club so he can show off

Jamil and Floyd see right through him and make it their mission to embarrass him instead

well Floyd is the one who’s mostly being an ass Jamil just gets dragged into his schemes bc he’s there

Ace better be careful if he gets too obvious and takes too long to confess Floyd will get bored and straight up out him

when he flirts it's 50/50 he either succeeds with flying colors or it turns into a dumpster fire

same goes for if you flirt back, he either plays it cool or becomes a stuttering mess and tries to escape

learned the hard way not to flirt during club time Floyd threw a basketball at his head and ended up with a bump that lasted a week

someone please put the bipolar man child in time out for that

if you’re lucky he’ll buy you a gift when he confesses

it’s cheap chocolates that were on clearance he doesn’t get much allowance cut him some slack okay

accept and he lets out a victory shout

he’s glued to your side from then on for at least a month have fun dealing his jackassery

ate half the chocolate he got for you this is what you signed up for

Deuce

like Riddle someone probably needs to spell it out for him

it’s his mom that enlightens him

look he’s always gushing about you to her she sees right through him

whenever he sees you he comes up to you asking if you need help with anything

offers to carry your stuff for you or help you with any chores you have

takes you on a magical circle wheel ride weeeeee

please go watch him during his club practice and track meets you can practically see a tail wagging behind him

Jack helps him show off like a true bro would it’s part of the bro code okay

follows mama’s advice like the good boy he is and buys you flowers and chocolates for the confession

he wrote a speech but he keeps stuttering and at some point yells ‘fuck it’ and in the heat of the moment grabs your face and kisses you

please please please kiss him back he will be in an intense happy daze for the rest of the day and follow you like a lovesick puppy

he’s flustered for a month after you two become an item and is in disbelief you accepted please do your best to make him feel loved

~~bonus~~

Ace made a bet with Floyd and Jamil that if he could make a basket he would confess. he did not come close to making it. if you listen closely you can hear his senpai's making fun of him to this day.

#nya's writing #gn!reader #heartslabyul hcs #heartslaybul x reader #riddle x reader #trey x reader #cater x reader #ace x reader #deuce x reader #twst hcs #twst headcanons #twst romantic headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #romantic twst

[morp]

hello this is very random guy very random person never seen or been to this blog before. i would like to request a *checks notes* 🍌🍊🍇🍑🍎🍍🍌🍉🍈🍒 (there are two bananas in this ask game LMAOOO)

Hello very very random stranger i do not know. Your asks, as requested, behind a readmore because theres a lot. Enjoy, very random stranger

🍌Three headcanons about how magic works in your lore

Well i. Dont have too many magic headcanons im afraid. Uhhh

You can use too much of any given magic, and it can have disastrous effects on you or a whole Location

Magic residue! Is a thing! A particularly brutal elemental something can linger with a dragon for years or even their whole life. A super effective element will cause more pain and suffering and complications, obviously, and theoretically multiple elements together can leave their residues behind at once, which can make everything worse or better or both at the same time!

thats all i have, im sorry 😔

🍊A dragon you like based on looks

All of them. Obviously. But bear witness to the first project I ever had that I used a gem gene for, Morpho (she/her) <3

🍇A dragon you like based on personality

Observe my favorite doctor in my lore. Stuxnet (it/he/they), dragon turned not dragon after Forbidden Portal incident, it’s sketchy and generally unnerving and would probably murder you if you made too much eye contact but would also probably murder you if you made too LITTLE eye contact, kind of a “keep in your periphary vision” type beast. But hes also extremely trustworthy, you can trust him with your medical needs and they will deliver the best care they can give. A mostly well meaning little freak with only a touch of medical malpractice

🍑Show off an expensive regening project

Observe. Wildclaw gene and butterfly. Thank you notn 🙏 (they/them btw)

🍎Show off a Special-eyed dragon

Tyrion, my Necromancer (they/them). The skin clipping is unfortunate but works for them, the sword has eyes now

🍍Favorite (& second favorite, etc) Elemental Festival and your reasons why

Number one is PLAGUE!!! PLAGUE NUMERO UNO🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠🦠 I’m absolutely biased as a Germ myself but I Adore Riot of Rot, the apparel is almost always a banger and I always need 484847384 of em. I mean. Proto-wings anyone? Rotted mane???? Beloved

Second one uhhhh. Fire. Good orange stuff👍

🍌A dragon + their theme song

You get my Horizon Aspect lad, Lan (he/him), and this song :)

🍉Favorite dragon breed to draw

Snapper. Absolutely snapper. All the way snapper. Lmao

🍈A dragon you hate (/pos) based on personality/lore

DionaeaMuscipula (she/her). She did unhatched egg experiments in the Seedscar. How dare you do that. How dare you leave a perfectly good baby with trauma and some very bad Arcane and Nature residue and then fuck off to avoid the criminal repurcussions of this actual crime

🍒Show off a fodder rescue

Iota (they/them). Another Necromancer, I sniped em during a push and originally intended to exalt them. Then I got attached. I love them very much

#mailbox #this was very fun to answer i sure hope the formatting doesnt fuck up #in posting

[miguel-ohara-lover]

i hope your arm is getting better soon and make sure to take care of yourself as well! a healthy mind is one of the best ways to get a heathy body!

Omg this is from December 💀

Arm is good- lmao

I’m so sorry I’ve been avoiding this blog like the plague-

#miguel o’hara lover ❤️💙