#LoB snippet

[worldofthraeia]

WIP Acrostic Tag Game

Thank you very much @cwritesfiction for the tag! :3 I was given the word BEAR. These lines are from Lady of Birchgrove, which I'm making a lot of progress on!

"Because I know you." He said quietly, leveling with her a piercing stare that made her believe his words. "Elves wield magic and they have a very good reason to hate humans, with us encroaching on their Forest." As much as I feel unequipped to raise a child I can't leave her. Resting on this page, in the middle of these saved childhood mementos, was a key.

Tagging (softly): @mixing-bowl-of-stories, @paintedbutton, @akindofmagictoo, @mysticstarlightduck, and @chauceryfairytales and anyone else who would like to! :3 Your word is LEAF.

[worldofthraeia]

From Lady of Birchgrove, a quiet moment between Nyx and Chrysta.

"How long are you gonna stay?" Nyx asked softly, turning her pale blue eyes up to her.  "Probably just another hour or two, Momma's been making me come home to eat." She murmured back, as she spoke Nyx tugged her down by her shoulder until her forehead bumped against hers. She took a moment to savor their closeness, brushing their noses.  "How long was I out?"  "Little over a day." Chrysta gently kissed her, more holding their lips together than actually kissing. Nyx started to feel the pull of exhaustion, the aching of her limbs becoming heavier. "Can you stay while I sleep?" She said faintly, closing her tired eyes. "I'll stay as long as I can, Nyxie."

Share the closing lines of a story or chapter.

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[melonisopod]

I'M GOING TO THROW UP I JUST READ THE DRIFTING FOX OBSERVATION LOGS AND REALIZED HOW MUCH OF THAT APPLIES TO HEATHCLIFF

[lorelune]

J-JING YUAN FIC??? TEA??? PLS??? if ur comfy ofc and pls make sure you're taking your time-

ooof course anon :3c i’m working on an omega jing yuan x omega reader fic for my spring fever a/b/o collab. i am incredibly excited it is SUUUCH an indulgent fic 😩🩷!!!! very soft, horny, milfy jy

[unusualtfs]

Public Transformation Network

“Hey bro, could I borrow your phone?”

You looked up from the online textbook you’d been reading. And up. And up. Looming over your bus seat was an absolute behemoth of a man. His black hair was slick with sweat, a clear sign he’d just been at the gym, although his beefy physique and rank musk could’ve clued you in just as easily.

“S-sorry, what?” you stammered.

The guy responded with an easygoing smile on his broad, bearded face. “Your phone. Could I borrow it for a sec? I’m visiting my bro, but my phone’s outta juice and I forget what stop to get off at. I just need to call him real quick.” His voice was deep and vacuous.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you said. “Knock yourself out.” You placed your phone in his meaty bronze hand, carefully trying not to notice how dainty and pale your fingers looked compared to his sausages.

With nothing else to do, you watched awkwardly from your seat as he dialed his friend’s number. “Yo dude, it’s me,” he greeted boisterously. “Yeah I’m on the bus using this nerdy guy’s phone right now, mine fuckin’ ran out, haha…”

You blinked in outrage, and embarrassment. “Nerdy guy”??? Just because you wore a white button-down, and had a mousy brown mop and a complete lack of facial hair, and your entire body was skinnier than his arm, didn’t make you a nerd! You had a leather knapsack — those were cool, weren’t they? Anyways.

As the bus continued on, you caught snippets of the conversation unfolding in front of you. Evidently, the guy had gotten hopelessly turned around, and his friend was trying to figure out how to get him to his destination. Privately, you thought this seemed too complex for his simple brain to comprehend.

“Ok wait, so you’re saying I need to be on the 115? And then take Johnson Street to the 67 line? Uh-huh, uh-huh. Gotcha. Thanks, bro. That means I should get off on…” He glanced at the route map above you, and you could see his thick head visibly struggling to make sense of it. Then his brown eyes widened comically. “Shit, this stop right here!”

Sure enough, the bus had been decelerating, and now it came to a complete stop. The guy pushed his way to the crowded exit, still absorbed in his conversation. You noted with disgust that he had your phone lodged between his bristly cheek and his broad shoulder, both of which were sheened with sweat. Then it hit you — he was about to leave with your phone!

“Wait!” you said, trying to get his attention. You hated how squeaky your voice sounded compared to his bovine bass, but still, it worked.

“Huh? Oh right,” he said. Speaking into the phone, he said, “Fuck bro, gotta go. See ya soon, king.” 

Then, he hung up and turned his attention to you. “Yo, thanks so much, little guy!” At this point, he was too close to the door, and there were too many people pushing to exit, for him to turn around and give your phone back. So instead, he stood up straight, braced his knees, and lobbed your phone at you with a dumb, cocky grin. “Catch, bro!”

Oh my god, what was this idiot thinking? You were going to miss, and then your phone would hit the floor and shatter into a million pieces, or it would smack someone’s head and they’d sue you for everything you had, or…

You gripped something in your hand. Peeking one eye open, you found that your phone was secure in your grip. Despite your lacking hand-eye coordination, you had somehow caught your phone, acting purely on instinct.

Then you immediately laid it on your lap, because it was slick with sweat and had thoroughly absorbed the guy’s scent. As you leaned down to clean it, your phone screen lit up with a notification. It was a message from an unknown number.

wait did u say u we’re on the 103

BRUH u werent supposed to get off yet lmaooo 💀💀

You internally groaned. Did that meathead’s friend think he was just going to keep your phone forever? He probably did; he was obviously just as much of a dumb gym bro as his friend. 

You prepared to type in a polite response informing him that he had the wrong number, but suddenly the bus lurched and you lost control of your phone for a moment. Glancing back at your screen, you realized that you had accidentally pressed send: 

bro just gimme ur addy i’ll put it into maps

That was absolutely not what you had typed in. You tended to be pretty dexterous, so you had no idea how that had happened. Although… you looked at your hands consideringly. They were brown and veiny, with wide and hairy fingers. You supposed it was hard to type on a phone keyboard with massive mitts like yours. Briefly, you thought that your hands seemed disproportionately large against the rest of you, that they weren’t supposed to be this big and manly, but you dismissed it, because why wouldn’t they be?

Anyways, now that that encounter was over, you could go back to studying. You scrolled through your phone, trying to locate your Kindle app. But it didn’t seem to be anywhere. Frustrated, you swiped back and forth across your home screen, not noticing how each tap sent a jolt up your body.

Swipe. You felt movement on either side of you — which you quickly realized was caused by the passengers sitting next to you. You couldn’t avoid brushing up against them with how broad your square shoulders were. It was a good problem to have.

Swipe. Absent-mindedly, you dragged your giant paws across your equally giant pecs. You didn’t know what made you feel more virile — scratching your tangled black curls of sweaty chest hair, or accidentally brushing against your protruding dark nipples. Oh wait, you knew the answer — scratching your tangled black treasure trail and brushing against your washboard abs.

Swipe. You splayed your tree trunk legs further out, stomping your size 14 feet on the floor of the bus. You didn’t care if the other passengers thought you were rude — with thighs this thick, it was impossible not to manspread, especially for someone as well-endowed as you. A wet protein fart trumpeted from your inflated ass, but you took it in stride.

Swipe. The bus lurched again, and for a moment it felt like you had leaped half a foot into the air. But your line of sight never shifted back down, and why would it? You had always been tall — just like you had always had perfectly sculpted lats and traps, and a thick bull neck, and…

Your swiping was interrupted by a notification: 5% battery remaining. You furrowed your caveman brow in confusion. Hadn’t you left your place with a full charge? How had it run out so quickly? As you were thinking, you grabbed your squirt bottle from the pocket of your gym bag and took a swig.

Duh, your gym bag — you’d been at the gym! That explained the phone battery, then; you liked to listen to workout podcasts or mindlessly scroll through TikTok as you worked out, and with how long you spent at the gym each day, more often than not you walked out of there with much less charge than you’d started with. 

Judging by the sweat leaking through your black mesh tank top, though — and not to mention your musky stench — it had been an especially good session today. It had been an arm day, and you silently admired your hard work, the way your biceps and triceps swelled with power and your veiny forearms pulsed in time with your heartbeat, all wrapped up in a layer of thick black hair and perfectly tan coloring. Yeah. Those were some impressive arms you had.

A text notification popped up at the top of your screen: 

bro how do you not know this by now 😭

its 992 carter st apt#208

Oh yeah, you’d been so distracted by your muscles that you’d forgotten why you were on this bus. You were going to visit your best bro later today, and your license was suspended from the last time you two had gotten a little too crunk, so public transit it was.

You glanced at the route map above you, trying to figure out the best way to get there. So you were on the red squiggly line on the left side of the image, which meant… no wait… maybe you were on that green dot in the middle? Your eyes glazed over, and your brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton candy. While that was a feeling you were very much used to, and even proud of, right now you were annoyed. Why’d they have to make these picture thingies so fucking confusing anyway? Whatever, that was why they’d invented Google Maps.

Copying over your friend’s address, you attempted to navigate to the map app. But your thick finger missed the icon entirely, instead opening your photo gallery. The most recent photo was a selfie you’d taken at the gym today, and you took a moment to admire yourself. You felt your blocky, bearded face form the exact same cocky smirk that was in the photo. Hell yeah, you were one sexy motherfucker. 

Suddenly, the image turned black. You’d run out of power. You stared for a second at the face reflected on the blank phone screen, identical to the one in the photo.

“Fuck,” you muttered in your deep, slow voice, scratching your temple with one finger like a Neanderthal. You hadn’t gotten to put your friend’s address into Google Maps, and you definitely were too dumb to get there on your own. What to do?

Slowly, painstakingly, an idea formed in your thick meathead mind. Maybe… you could… use someone else’s phone… to call your friend up and ask him how to get there! You scanned the bus for people to ask. There were lots of people on their phones, but for some reason, one passenger stood out to you. He was shrimpy and short, sitting a few seats away from you in the opposite row as he tapped away at some mobile game.

Pocketing your dead device, you rose from your seat and swaggered over to the little guy.

“Hey bro, could I borrow your phone?”

[mediumgayitalian]

He doesn’t realise how odd it is for the infirmary door to be closed until it is shoved open, wooden frame crashing into the wall, making everyone inside jump to high heaven. Will stumbles in after it, and the sight of him makes startled shrieks and grumbles stop in all mouths; his eyes are red-rimmed and bruised with sleeplessness, staring cloudy and vacantly ahead. He walks like he’s unfamiliar with the shape of the ground, steps clumsy and hesitant, hands picking at bare legs. His faded, oversized camp shirt falls all the way down to his thighs.

He looks sick.

He makes his plucking way to the nurses station, oblivious to or uncaring of the eyes on him. When he finally makes it to the door his hands shake too badly to unlatch it, and he tries for minutes before giving up, hoisting himself up on the counter and stepping over piles of paperwork, half-balanced on the spinning chair. He is barefoot.

“What’re you looking for? Austin is the first brave enough to speak, taking a half-step closer. “...Will?”

“Where the hell are the scissors,” Will mutters. He rifles through folders, opens and slams drawers shut. “I need the — scissors.”

“Second drawer down from the right,” says Kayla quietly.

The second drawer creaks, badly, tiny wheels wailing on their tracks as Will yanks it open, shoves it shut. He half-jumps half-falls off the chair, blades clutched in his fist, and shifts over to the back wall, squaring in front of the mirror.

In quick, thoughtless action, he lobs off the tangled ponytail low at the base of his skull. At the back, near the window, Lacy from Cabin 12 inhales like she’s been stabbed.

In the stunned, heavy silence of patients and healers and people in the wrong place at the wrong time, Will methodically pulls straight coils of hair, snipping them an inch from the root. He takes no care to line up the strands, no care to feather the edges. The office scissors are so dull that in some sections he has to saw through, hairs snapping like guitar strings. In minutes both hands are clenched full of dull gold, wiry snippets dusting his neck and shoulders. He drops them in a wastebasket at they flutter like leaves around the rim.

“Thanks,” he says, belatedly, dropping the scissors back on the counter. He turns without looking to the doorway by the shelves of salves, slipping quickly down the Big House hallway.

Austin is the first of them to move, too, darting past cots heavy with gaping campers He turns to Chiron.

“Should I follow him?” he asks, hesitating by the shadows.

For a moment there is nothing. The Chiron sighs, heavy and long, and puts his head in his hands.

“You can most certainly try,” he says, tired and muffled. “But it is the great failure of my life that Will Solace has spent more time in this building than I have in centuries. You wouldn’t find him with Ariadne’s string.”

[imagine-darksiders]

Can't resist throwing in a dick joke or two with this Ulthane guilty smut thing, for example, this snippet:

------------------------------

“This doesn’t have to go anywhere,” you tell him carefully, “Not if you don’t want it to.”

You’re giving him an out. A mercy. He almost chokes on a disbelieving laugh but it catches in his throat and he gulps it back. It's more than he deserves. Where is the disgust he expected? And if not disgust, then disapproval at least. Not this.... boldness from you that smacks dangerously of permission.

“Just say the word," you continue in a hushed tone, gazing up at him from beneath your lashes, "Tell me it’s a bad idea, and we'll stop. I’ll leave you alone. No hard feelings.”

Pausing for just a moment, you make a show of glancing down, one brow quirked in the direction of his loins as the side of your mouth cocks up at the corner. “Well,” you drawl, gradually raising your eyes to his again, “Maybe one hard feeling.”

Very briefly, Ulthane entertains the notion of lobbing you over the side of the Tree for daring to make such a crass and obvious joke while he’s busy tumbling over his own emotional precipice.

[kaaaaaaarf]

new year new snippet

I was tagged by @lynxindisguise, so here is more from Hatefuck 5!! James POV:

Abruptly, Sirius begins whispering with Mary. James misses the beginning, but everyone hears him when he says, “I’m just saying, for a twink he’s very sure of himself.” “I told you, I’m not a twink!” Remus shouts indignantly from across the table.  “Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to bring up your twink death—I know you’re sensitive about that.” “Fuck you! Oh, sorry Pete. I didn’t mean to make you spill.” “You’re such a disaster.” Sirius tuts, turning to the table at large and laughing, “It’s his long arms, he’s always flailing them about like an inflatable at a car dealership when he's in a strop.” Remus ignores his boyfriend, instead continuing to dab at the spill with his napkin. Pete, for his part, looks like he is dissociating from the whole conversation—focusing instead on a spot on his lap. A complex series of emotions dance across Sirius’ face when he doesn’t get a rise, and there’s a determined glint to his eye when he tries again, "Would you pass the salt, babe?" "Happily, dearest." Without looking up, Remus picks up the salt shaker and lobs it at him. James ducks as it bounces off the wall behind Sirius’ head. Sirius bends and retrieves the salt from the floor, shaking it casually over his mashed potatoes as if it was passed politely instead of launched—an unnerving smile never leaving his face. With a practised nonchalance, Remus picks up his cutlery and goes back to his steak—his eyes completely void of emotion as the utensils scrape loudly across his plate. James winces at the sound as he leans over Regulus, muttering to Lily, "Are they actually dating or is this some kind of weird fake dating scenario we're dealing with? Are we being tricked? They don't seem to like each other very much." Lily grimaces, "No, they are actually dating, and very much in love. Unfortunately."

np tagging: @lifeisabitch-butimcute, @fruityindividual, @kaleidoscopexsighs, @pain-in-the-riri, @moon-seas, @wannabelilybriscoe & @brigid-faye

[emsprovisions]

Hello everyone! Happy Sunday 😊 here’s a little snippet from the first chapter of my new fic I posted a few days ago. You can find more here if you’re interested! 💕

"You're not going to turn into One Night Strand after this, are you?" Mateo asks with a wrinkle to his nose.

"Oh my god, shut up," TK manages a laugh, reaching over and lobbing one of the pillows from the bed at Mateo's head.

Mateo easily dodges it and laughs, and TK feels more at ease again, like the world is back on its right axis as he relaxes in Nancy's arms.

"God, Nance," TK whines. "He was really, really hot."

"He was, babe," Nancy agrees, nodding against TK's shoulder.

"Did you even get his socials?" Mateo asks, glancing up from his phone again.

"Didn't really get the chance by how quickly he escaped," TK huffs again.

"What about his last name?"

"Mateo, I think you overestimate just how much time I spent actually talking to this man," TK laughs. "I don't know anything about him other than that his name is Carlos."

Thank you for the tags @nisbanisba @carlos-in-glasses @carlossreaders @henrygrass @strandnreyes @ironheartwriter 💛

No pressure tags @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo @butchreyes @reyesstrand @tellmegoodbye @eclectic-sassycoweyes @lightningboltreader @everlastingday @rangersoup @bonheur-cafe @chicgeekgirl89 @decafdino @paperstorm @captain-gillian @lemonlyman-dotcom @nancys-braids @nisbanisba @welcometololaland @futures-tense @annoyingcloudearthquake @neversleepuntilfive +Open Tag 🏷️

[circle--of--confusion]

Wip Wednesday!

This is another fic in An AU @ficandkaboodle and I have been lobbing around.

The premise: what if Terzo was a bit more like a cult leader? Here's a snippet of Reader at a Ritual for the first time.

[whiskeythefishski]

Quick snippet of my upcoming trevrasha story!!!

- - -

“Okay, so explain to me again how this isn’t a date?”

Arasha huffs, zipping her travel toiletry bag shut with a little more force than necessary. “It’s not a date. It’s a family trip with an old friend. That’s all!”

Chanse raises an accusatory eyebrow from where he’s lounging across her roommate’s bed. “Mhm, yeah,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “A three night trip with Trevor where you just so happen to have to share a bed? I’m not buying it for a second, bitch.”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Amanda’s voice crackles out of Chanse’s phone. “Who’s Trevor?”

“Angela!” he hisses. “You haven’t updated your girlfriend on the Trevor lore?”

“I’m sorry!” Angela says through FaceTime at the same time that Arasha says, “There is no lore! He’s a childhood friend, that’s all!”

“He’s like her ‘one that got away,’” she hears Angela explain, followed by a knowing hum from Amanda.

“She never shuts up about him. You should hear her when she’s tipsy,” Chanse stage-whispers into the phone. He puts on a falsetto voice, batting his lashes and sighing like an Old Hollywood damsel. “‘Ooh, I wonder what Trevor’s up to! Do you think Trevor would answer if I called? I wish Trevor was here so I could kiss his stupid tall face—”

“I do not sound like that!” Arasha insists, whipping her phone charger at Chanse, who yelps like a wounded dog.

“Angela, call the police! I need to report a hate crime!”

Before she can come up with a retort, Arasha’s phone starts buzzing from its place on the nightstand. Shushing Chanse, she grabs it and picks up the phone call, forcing cheeriness into her voice. “Hey, Court! What’s up?”

“Hey girlie!” Courtney trills. Arasha can hear the sound of laughter in the background. “Just wanted to let you know we should be pulling up to your dorm in the next couple minutes, if you wanted to meet us down here? You’re our last passenger, and Shayne wants to get on the road ASAP to beat traffic.”

“Tell her I say hi!” she hears a familiar voice yell.

“Trevor says hi.”

“Hi, Trevor,” Arasha says, smiling in spite of herself. Without even looking behind her, she grabs a Chapstick and blindly lobs it in a snickering Chanse’s direction. “Sounds perfect, Court! I’ll be right down. I can’t wait to see you guys!”

“I can’t either! This weekend is gonna slaaay!” Courtney giggles.

They hang up, and Arasha tucks her phone into her back pocket. “Not a word,” she says, brandishing a finger at Chanse.

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t say shit.”

“There’s no way this isn’t at least a little bit a date,” says Amanda.

Arasha groans.

[worldofthraeia]

Find the Word Tag

I asked @fairyhalo for some words. :3 Thanks for humoring me!

My words: Run, house, and beautiful. Using Lady of Birchgrove.

Run

She tried to dredge her way back to the encounter, ignoring the pain she had felt. "The man did something…" She said tentatively and Oliver focused on her, she held her hand up like she was clutching something. "He had like this glass ball, but only after Silv fell." The space between Silvia falling and Nyx running to her side was hazy and fragmented, the fear making it hard to recall. "Was it magic?" Oliver questioned.

House

They passed by houses with low cobblestone walls encompassing small gardens. It would have been a very pleasant walk was it not for the unease that permeated her companions.

Beautiful

Nyx schooled her face as Chrysta returned, scrubbed and wearing a different shirt. She smiled despite herself as she stepped out, marveling that such a beautiful girl could be hers. “We’re gonna have to run for it, Momma can’t convince him to come inside.” Nyx nodded solemnly. “Ready when you are.”

Tagging (gently, only if you'd like.): @space-writes, @paeliae-occasionally, @mixing-bowl-of-stories, @paintedbutton, and

@akindofmagictoo and anyone else who would like to! :3

Your words: Concern, blue, and dust.

[worldofthraeia]

Hard to decide but here's snippet from Lady of Birchgrove:

tw: food

There was indeed a little more cheese than Silvia felt necessary. But with how hungry she suddenly felt as the first bite hit her tongue she didn’t complain. Neither did Nyx as she slowly ate beside her, wincing every so often. The spiced potatoes were nicely roasted and soft inside, they reminded her of something else they had made.  They reminded her of…? She paused, barely breathed as the memory floated hazily into view. A muted warmth emanated from it, like putting a hand close to smoldering coals. She could see shapes dancing behind her eyes, hear distant laughter. She pushed forward, hoped to catch a glimpse of something that was familiar, anything.  Her mind lashed back against her.

Share an excerpt that includes the words "inside" or "outside."

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[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Summer 2020 - The Hard Deck

Chapter 8 Part 2 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: Bradley Bradshaw is in love. He's so in love with his beautiful soul his heart aches when he's around her. So when she lobs an offer - to be hers, to make her his - his way, he takes her up on it. Now that he’s been given permission to chase what he’s been longing for, he’s chasing her with everything he’s got.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 2620

A/N: Hiya lovelies! Here we finally, finally, are! This is the smut chapter for Rooster and Tinkerbell! It's been a long time coming (both for Roo and Tink, and for how long it took me to write this). I hope you all adore this chapter as much as I adore all of you!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Rooster

“Who said I was saying goodnight, Roo?” 

She’s going to be the death of him. Only thirty-five years old and his gravestone is officially going to say “Here lies Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, a sad, horny, sappy fuck for his soulmate”. It’s a little wordy, sure, but as far as epitaphs go this one is probably right on the money. Tinkerbell just had to say something like that, didn’t she? She has no idea how hard he finds it to keep his hands off of her. He’s wanted to touch her ever since the first night he met her. He can still remember the feeling of her skin, how her soft curves had looked in that sundress, how she felt against the palms of his hands. She’s seared her way into his memory, visceral and unreal. How is it possible he can touch her whenever he wants to now?

Standing in the half-light of the lone street light shining down over The Hard Deck’s parking lot, Bradley’s struck with the realization he wants to do a lot more than just touch his soulmate. But he can't, he won't. He’s been forcing himself to be respectful. He promised her after all, promised they would go at her speed. But it’s been torture. There are only so many kisses and far from chaste makeout sessions a man should have to endure with his soulmate before he explodes.

Now that he’s been given permission to chase what he’s been longing for, he’s chasing her with everything he’s got. He’s not one of the best aviators in the US Navy by luck, and he can drive just as well as he can fly. But the name of the game isn’t beating her. The name of the game is showing his pretty soul how much he wants her. So he stays right behind her cherry convertible as music blares softly from the radio. He catches the lyrics in snippets and snatches of sound, humming tunelessly to the beat. She leads him to her house, a cute, homey, little beachside house like the one he once dreamed he would raise a family in. Right now, there’s only one woman he would ever think about starting a family with. She’s standing right in front of him, with the prettiest sparkling eyes and wearing a sundress to rival the dress she was wearing the summer night he met her for the first time.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, beautiful.”

He's completely in love, head-over-heels for his sweet soul. Now, he's going to take the chance to show her how much, starting with a kiss. She smells like orange blossoms, the delicate scent tracing over the curve of her jaw and dripping down her smooth curves. It’s no wonder he can’t resist tracing his nose over the same sweet jaw. Her breathy moans and tender gasps send fire through him. When he finally kisses his beautiful soul, a press of lips against her clavicle, he drinks her in like the air he needs to breathe. His kisses travel over her skin, featherlight as he follows the thud of her pulse up her jaw, traveling until he captures her parted lips with his own. They’re sweet, tasting like lime and sugar and summer all rolled into one. She feels like velvet on the pads of his fingers, skin hot as he traces his hands up her thighs, squeezing the firm flesh tenderly just to hear her moan. The little sundress rucks up with each sweeping brush, until he’s clasped his fingers around the junction of her thigh.

“Fuck.” The word leaves him in a groan against her perfect pout, because he was expecting to feel a scrap of lace around her waist, not bare, silken skin.

“You’re not wearing panties tonight, darling?”

“Nah.” Her voice sounds just as wrecked as his is, just from tender touches and even sweeter kisses. “Wanted you tonight.”

“So you were walking around all night, wearing this pretty little dress, knowing one spin on the dance floor would be enough to show everyone there your pretty little pussy? My pretty little pussy?”

Bradley’s sure he’s going to lose his mind. As if his sweet soul hasn’t been killing him all night already, with her sweet smile and infectious laugh. If he’d known what she was - more likely what she wasn’t wearing under her pretty dress, he would have dragged her out of the bar hours ago.

“Your pretty little pussy?” Her laugh is ethereal in the moonlight, her eyes fever-bright as he kisses her again, just because he can.

“Mmmhmm.” He growls his response against the long line of her throat, if only to feel her shiver at the vibration of his voice, the brush of his mustache over her skin.

“You gonna let me take you upstairs, pretty girl?” Her eyes are blown so wide, he could count the stars in them. The moan slipping off her tongue as she shivers in his arms has to be the definition of the sexiest sound on earth. It's also an answer he'd love to explore, so he muscles the door open, gentle with his pretty soul crushed between the door and his bulk.

She squeaks, honest to god squeaks when he lifts her up, his hands sinking into the plush skin of her thighs, velvety soft as they cling to his torso. If she’s going to be this pliable, this sweet, Bradley’s going to sweep her off her feet whenever he can. 

But sweeping Tinkerbell off her feet again will have to wait for another day. Right now, all Bradley wants is to see what other sounds he can make spill out of her perfect lips. Kissing her makes her sigh and curl her fingers through his hair, each soft exhale making his dick twitch, trapped beneath layers of cotton and denim as it is.

“God, Roo.” She’s moaning his name and Bradley’s so turned on he can't think straight. So while he very much would like to ravish his soul on her bed for the first time, he's not sure he can wait any longer. He sets Tink down on the sofa in her living room, tugging her until her ass is off the edge.

She smells so good, like the ripest orange as he rucks the dress up over her waist, big hands caressing the pillowy soft skin of her stomach, sweeping the undersides of her breasts.

“Roo, please!” Hearing his soulmate beg, he's not embarrassed to report, makes him groan, low in his chest.

“Fuck, sweetheart. ‘M right here. But you gotta tell me where you want me, pretty girl. Until you can find the words, I'm gonna stare at your pretty pussy and kiss your soft skin.”

She gasps at his words, eyes widening as her hands scrabble to tug the rest of her dress off. When she's standing in front of him, just in her heels, bare with shafts of moonlight glistening on her skin, Bradley has to groan again. He thanks the universe vacantly as she tugs his hands up until they're resting over her breasts, her nipples peakdd against his palm. She fits his hands like she was made for him - well, she was.

“Roo!” 

He grins as he tucks his head against her sternum, nuzzling the swell of her perfect tits as he tugs her closer. The kisses he trails over her skin now are wet and hot. By the time he's kneeling on the floor at her feet, her chest heaves, nipples peaked.

“You gotta tell me where you want me, sweetheart. Or it's only kisses you're going to get tonight.”

Her little growl of frustration shouldn't be just as sexy as it is cute. But she shivers under the sweep of his hands over his thighs anyway before croaking, “Want your mouth on me, Roo.”

It's a start. He presses a kiss against her hip, before looking back up with the closest grin to one of Hangman's shit-eating smirks as he can muster.

“What else, pretty girl?”

“No, Roo! No!”

Her words must be failing her, and isn't it a gorgeous sight? Pretty, poised, sharp-tongued Tinkerbell robbed of her tongue just because she wants him so desperately.

“You have’ta tell me what you want, beautiful. Every word. As detailed as you can.”

He can almost see the rage in her as she cups his cheek, as he kisses the pads of her fingers absentmindedly.

“I want you, Roo. I want you to put your mouth on me, eat me out like a man starved. I want you to make me cum because of your fingers and your mouth. Then I want you to fuck me so hard I see stars and can't walk straight.”

He's impressed she was able to string so many words together when he can already see the sheen of her arousal staining the insides of her thighs.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, before kissing the smooth skin below her navel. She squeaks again at the endearment before going pliant under his palms as he manhandles her onto the sofa again. This time, her thighs part eagerly, and he kisses each long muscle before sinking into her like a man starved.

She comes alive under his hands, his soulmate, her muscles arching like a live wire with every lave of his tongue. Her fingers clutch at his hair, tugging, and Bradley finds he likes the pleasure-pain when it's his soulmate doing the pulling. She's so wet he can feel her dripping onto his tongue and by the time he presses one finger into her, she's already sobbing his name.

He's so hard, he's not sure he'll make it to the second part of her request, but he's going to try. His pretty soul takes in two of his fingers, and when he slides up to kiss her, hand still pressing into her wet cunt, she mewls his name so hard the kiss is harsh. When he pulls away, her lips are swollen from the force and her tits bounce with each thrust. His pretty soulmate's hips meet his palm with a slap and she looks strung out already.

While he's there, he sucks one perfect nipple into his mouth, flicking the bud with his tongue. Her walls clench tight around his fingers and if he were in her, he probably would have cum already. Right now, what he needs is for her to. She's so close, all it would take is a little more.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” 

He growls the words against her nipple, mustache brushing over the wet peak with each word, and she cums with a moan that will reverberate through his dreams. Her arousal coats his fingers when he pulls out of her, and she moans in embarrassment when he licks it away.

When he stands, stretching out his sore legs, he decides this is his favorite view of his soulmate. Eyes blown wide, hair in disarray, chest heaving, pretty wet pussy on full display. If he had his dad's polaroid, he'd snap a pic to save for long deployments. He's sure it would be a paltry substitute for the real deal, but at least he'd have a part of her with him.

“You like what you see, Roo?”

“If you only knew, Tink.”

“Then why aren't you naked?” She's like a siren-call on stormy seas when she pulls him closer by his belt loops hands gentle as she pushes off the Hawaiian shirt he's wearing. She's less gentle as she rips the tank top underneath off, but he can't think when she kisses his chest while her hands cup his dick through the jeans.

“Off, Roo. Take these clothes off!”

Bossy Tinkerbell is a turn on of his, too. God forbid he ever has to be ordered around by his perfect soul on base because he'd probably be hard in milliseconds at the confidence in her voice. He tells her as much and is treated to the most perfect laugh, this one mixed with a breathy moan when he pinches her nipples. When he's as bare as his soul he kisses her, taking the opportunity to knead her ass cheeks and hear her breath hitch.

“Mmm, fuck me, Roo.” 

Tink's begging when he pulls away, and when he tries to push her back onto the sofa, she pushes him down instead, straddling his waist. It's his turn to fight for breath as his soulmate sinks down, slowly, lips parting in an ‘o’ of pleasure as she takes him, inch by inch. She's tight and perfect, walls spasming around him as he fills her.

“Take it slow, beautiful.” He groans at the first fast piston of her hips.

“We've got all night to make each other feel good.”

“I make you feel good?” She gasps, tits jiggling as she bounces on his dick. There's a little insecurity in her voice, insecurity he definitely doesn't want to hear from his perfect soul.

“You feel so good for me, Tink. Perfect. Like you were made for me.”

She moans, light and throaty, the sound barely audible over the pace of their joining. Bradley’s so in love, his head is spinning. Every iota of his focus, his brain, his eyes, everything about him is focused on his pretty soulmate, with her dark eyes and perfect mouth, sharp little cries leaving kiss-bitten lips.

“Please, Roo!” Her voice echoes through her empty beach-side house, hands clutching at his shoulders as her rhythm falters.ters.

“You ready to cum for me, baby girl?”

Bradley can’t believe he’s here - that he gets to be here. He’s been pushing back the stirrings of his own orgasm all night, but her breathy moans now, coupled with how tight and wet his soul is, is too much. It crashes over him like a tsunami, headier than any orgasm he’s ever had before. It’s obvious she can feel it too, because his soul laughs, her voice filled with just as much cheeky humor as arousal.

“Mmm, you ready to come for me, Roo?”

Bradley’s only a man, too lovesick for his soul. He tugs her into a kiss, both of their skin streaked with sweat and aching for each other. The new angle gives him the leverage to thrust up, and he continues the steady pace Tink can’t keep up. It’s not long before she’s moaning, walls fluttering around his length as he bounces her. She begs for him, and he gives in, pressing into her harder and faster until she spasms around him. He barely notices his own release, he’s so enraptured by the sight of his soul. She has her head thrown back, the long line of her throat exposed to his view. Her perfect tits are in his face, gooseflesh covering every inch of her soft flesh, and he tugs one perfect globe into his mouth in an open mouthed kiss.

When he pulls away, he ends up with an armful of his soul. They’re still connected, and he feels like he couldn’t be closer to his perfect soulmate.

“God, I love you so much, beautiful.” He murmurs the words into her hair, sweat-damp yet still smelling like the orange blossoms he adores.

“I love you too, Roo.” She’s yawning, yet wearing the most gorgeous smile on her face. “Now take me to bed, my lovely soul.”

“Gotta clean you up, pretty girl.”

She moans and whines, but acquiesces anyways, pliable and sweet as he maneuvers her into the shower, cleaning their mixed releases off her skin. Yeah, he muses as he curls up next to her in the sheets of her big bed an hour later, this is exactly where he wants to be.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, WATTPAD, OR AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

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@cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn @julesclues @greenbaby12

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[trohpi]

fifteen sounds interesting

ooo this is actually the wip ive written the most for!! though i havent touched it in a while and the writings not my best lol

its an em&em fic and it takes place in 1973. emmeline vance and emma vanity have had a quidditch rivalry going on the last few years, and now theyve both been made captain of their respective teams (obv ravenclaw for emmeline and slytherin for emma). not only is the ravenclaw vs slytherin match is coming up, but emma became a massive flirt over winter break, and emmeline may or may have a mental breakdown about it and drag her friends down with her

heres the snippet:

~

Emmeline unceremoniously flops down next to Bilius, who doesn’t even glance up from his copy of The Daily Prophet. She huffs as she reaches for his plate and snatches a piece of bacon, tearing into it with frustration. “I don’t understand it! I really don’t!” she starts while chewing. “I mean, the game is only a few weeks away and this is what she’s doing with her time?” Bilius yawns tiredly and lowers the paper, turning to his friend. “Sorry, just to be clear, we’re talking about…?” “Vanity!” she exclaims. Bilius’ gaze turns fond even as he sighs and shakes his head with exasperation. “Of course we are,” he says, mostly to himself. He turns back to The Prophet and asks absentmindedly, “What did she do this time?” “Haven’t you seen her? Surrounded by girls, constantly talking and flirting and kissing,” Emmeline raves, her voice getting louder as she speaks. She steals another piece of his bacon before going on. “She’s wasting all her free time on—on romance instead of practicing!“ Bilius hums in acknowledgment while turning the page. “And everyone knows the Ravenclaw vs Slytherin match is coming up. Even Binns mentioned it in yesterday’s class!” “Wow,” Bilius replies distractedly. “You know I haven’t seen her out on the Quidditch pitch once in the last week?” she says incredulously. She pauses to take a swig of her friend’s pumpkin juice and continues her rant. “It’s both our first years as Captain of our respective teams and she can’t even spare a few hours to practice? It’s insulting is what it is! Merlin, she’s so—so selfish, so infuriating, so—“ “Devastatingly handsome? Incredibly witty?” a familiar voice cuts in. Emmeline looks up to see Fabian sliding into his seat across the table and levels him a glare. He grins at her. “What? Were you not describing me and my flawless characteristics?” he teases. She grabs Bilius’ newspaper and he makes an affronted noise before she lobs it at Fabian’s head. Bilius elbows her. “I was reading that you know,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. “It's not like I set it on fire. Though, after it touched Fab’s fat head, you might want me to. Could infect you with his idiocy.” Bilius nods thoughtfully. “Oi!” Fabian squawks. “I’ll have you know that I got an E on my Charms essay last week!” “Yeah? And who’d you cheat off of? Alice?” Emmeline jokes while Fabian chucks the copy of The Prophet back at her. It bounces off her shoulder and onto Bilius’ plate, quickly becoming stained with grease and strawberry jam. Bilius curses as he attempts to salvage it. “Anyways, who were you talking about earlier?” “Vanity, obviously,” she says with an eye-roll, and his eyes light with humour. “Oh, yes, obviously. What’d she do this time? Sidetrack you during practice with her dazzling good looks?” Emmeline scowls. “Oh, fuck off. That was one time, and it wasn’t because she’s pretty. Her hair was just… distracting.”

[umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken]

A ballad of beasts - update -

just in case anyone was wondering, I am definitely still writing 'A ballad of beasts', I'm just in the middle of writing end of year reports rn as well as getting ready to go on a family holiday, so yeah. adding my already poor time management skills on top of that, this fic has pretty much been at the back of my mind at the minute.

BUT

I will definitely try to have the second chapter out by the end of November, better late than never, right? 🥹

In the meanwhile, here's another snippet!!!

~~

Nesta screamed, her instincts jolting her backwards into the wall where she scrabbled around until her hand found purchase on her dresser, and she began to lob her personal effects at the abashed looking man sitting on his haunches on her floor.

“Wait! Please, let me ex-” he sprang to his feet, ducking her hairbrush, “-plain, I do not wish you harm,” he yelped at the pot of face cream, turning to her with an expression akin to betrayal as it smashed on the wall behind him.

“You were a cat! I bathed you!”

“And for that I am grateful, but if you would just-”

“Get out!” she howled, raising a heavy volume of fairytales into the air.

~~