#{{ nearing the end of writing this and holy shit this is dark I need to add way more tags now

[moneyndior]

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ she said, ‘fuck me like i’m famous.’ i said, ‘okay.’⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH—i have thoughts about brothers best friend!luke

tags/warnings: luke x fem!reader, loser!luke, protective!brother, unnamed brother, secret relationship, outside of chb, reader is drunk/drinking, reader is mentioned to be younger, suggestive content at the end/nearing smut, not proofread.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ is this fandom dead or what. also i was mad insane for writing the ending to this LMFAOO DONT SMOKE WEED OR THIS IS THE OUTCOME‼️

—brother best friend!luke who was told to stay away from you.

“dude, seriously. stop staring—that’s my little sister.”

“i’m not staring. don’t make it weird.”

luke muttered, lying straight out of his teeth. he clicked his tongue as he crossed his arms, rolling his shoulders.

his eyes were locked onto you as you rushed around the living room, rushing down the halls. you struggled to put on this earring, lips in a straight line before groaning in annoyance.

you looked gorgeous. you were getting ready for god knows what, but luke didn’t need to know to know that you were the type of girl guys like him would kill for.

you noticed his staring and waved quickly, rushing back into your room. he had only a second to wave back. luke tried to make it subtle—but he clearly didn’t try hard enough.

“what did i just say, man?”

“can i not wave to your sister?”

“no.”

your brother snapped before closing his door, throwing the play station controller toward luke, maybe a little harder than he should’ve.

—brothers best friend!luke who does anything to have some alone time with you.

he seen you walk past your brothers room late at night, using your phone flashlight to navigate through the hallway. your brother was asleep on the bean bag chair, the tv remote loosely in his grip.

luke figured you were going to the kitchen, so he obviously followed. he hugged the wall, the kitchen illuminating from the fridge light.

“hey.”

“holy fuck, luke!”

you shout-whispered after jumping. he didn’t mean to scare you—but it sure was funny. he chuckled quietly as he leaned onto the counter, tilting his head. you had a soda in your hand, a piece of bread in your mouth.

“you scared the shit out of me.”

“aw, ‘m sorry.”

“no you ain’t.”

you narrowed your eyes to him, pinching your brows together. a snicker left your throat as you seen luke shrug, chuckling as he tightened his lips.

“yeah. you’re right.”

he admitted with no issue, seemingly taking pride in it. luke adjusted his position, towering over you as he stood with his arms crossed.

“so…what’re you doing up this late, hm?”

“what are you doing up this late? shouldn’t you and my brother be doing whatever stupid stuff you two do?”

“touché. but no—he’s asleep.”

“you poor thing.”

you muttered before turning on your heel, walking toward your room, leaving luke in the dark. he exhaled, his shoulders dropping as he waited an extra minute at hearing you slowly close your door.

luke ran his fingers through his hair, his hands on the counter as he tried to regain his posture.

“fuck.”

he mumbled to himself, trying to get the flush off his face as he went back to how you looked in those shorts and tank top.

—brother’s best friend!luke who takes care of you when you got a little too drunk at a party.

“c’mon, hold my hand.”

“take me out to dinner first, luke.”

you slurred out your words, giggling as you wrapped your arms around his, looking up at him. you looked up at him while fluttering your lashes, lips slightly separated.

if you weren’t drunk, luke would’ve kissed you right then and there.

“i’m taking you home.”

“awh…”

you dragged out, pouting as you stumbled over your own two feet. luke instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you. even though you paid no mind to it—luke’s ears were burning hot and his face was bright red.

he leaned you onto his car as he opened the passenger door, guiding you to sit down with an arm still around you.

luke quickly tried to start the car, trying to avoid eye contact with you before he felt you kiss his cheek. you giggled before humming,

“thank you, luke. you’re so sweet, and cute, and smart, and…uhm.”

“mhm. you’re very welcome.”

he mumbled, his voice cracking. luke’s eyebrows knitted together as you giggled again.

“you’re too good f’my brother. god—why do you hang out with him more than me? what does he have that i don’t?”

you pouted, lips twitching as you tugged on his sweatshirt’s sleeve. luke reached out, patting your head as he kept his eyes forward.

“i, uhm—i don’t know.”

“exactly! spend more time with me. please, luke?”

you pleaded, slurring your words once again. luke gulped before nodding, all of his self respect gone. if the girl of his dreams was asking him, luke castellan, to spend time with her—he can’t decline.

—brother’s best friend!luke who can’t seem to keep a secret that well.

“luke, my brother’s in the next room.”

you complained between kisses, luke pressing up against you. his hands were gripping your hips, the mattress below you two squeaking as he pushed you down against it.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. you just,”

luke paused, letting out a quiet whimper before finishing his sentence.

“you looked so good. i couldn’t help myself. i’m sorry, baby.”

you chuckled at hearing his continuous apologies. luke felt you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“gods, you’re so good to me, y/n.”

he whined, cupping your cheeks with a knee between your legs. luke hooked a finger around the waistband of your shorts, pulling away. he looked at you with pleading eyes, shifting down toward your shorts and back up at you.

“yeah. you can.”

with the given permission, he wasted noses time pulling them down your legs. luke kissed your cheek, trailing down to your collarbone.

“so good—too good f’me.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

The Lin Kuei trio + Raiden reacting to their usually nice, compassionate, and generally nurturing s/o suddenly looks at an enemy and goes "You have five f**king seconds before I rip open your stomach and turn your innards into a noose." And proceeds to do just that to frightening effect?

First time writing for Raiden, so hell probably be ooc and some shitty character writing to be made aware of 😂 🦦

Tomas Vrbada

Honestly didn’t see that coming.

He guessed that what he got for judging a book by it’s cover and Tomas learnt that rather fast upon seeing you destroy your opponent in frightening quick succession. So upon seeing your sweet tender smile afterwards whilst covered in blood was bone chilling to Tomas, knowing that someone so sweet, so kind, so caring and nurturing like you had the ability to switch up to a more vicious and violent version persona.

Tomas would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find you covered in someone else’s blood extremely attractive. So you best mark him down as scared and horny because holy shit.

Like Raiden, he felt the need to protect you and keep you within range of him, but that’s mainly because he’s absolutely terrified of losing you like he lost his family. So he knew that he could come across as overbearing at time when it came to keeping you safe, but you knew that it all came from a good place, and that Tomas was trying so hard to avoid a repetition of in his past to happen to you; So upon learning that you didn’t in fact need his help in keeping you safe, he allows himself to relax a little and ease off of you in fear of being the next person you pummel.

To which he knew wouldn’t be the case but that pent up anger you displayed must’ve come from somewhere.

Tomas came to accept that the hands that he came to love and admire whilst melting within their warm, tender and nurturing hold as they cupped his face, also possessed the ability to mane and destroy just as easily as they could heal and mend his broken heart and patch up his open wounds from intensive missions.

Kuai Liang

Surprised but honestly wonders where it was that you had learnt to defend yourself and in that brutal fashion.

So while everyone else was taken aback when you inevitably unleash hellfire upon your opponents to frightening effect. Kuai Liang on the other hand was only feeling sorry for the poor bastard on the receiving end of your vicious blows, they looked like they fucking hurt that Kuai Liang was for certain on.

Upon first meeting you, Kuai Liang genuinely believed that you either had no prior experience in combat, or just held a distain towards all things violent and purposefully adhere it all together; Not that he was claiming that was a bad thing. It was just a rarity to come across someone like you. To the point where Kuai Liang would often worried that someday someone would sniff this out, before then proceeding to taking advantage and manipulate you into shady business under the pretences of doing good.

He didn’t want to tarnish your kind, caring and loving nature by bringing this up in fear that it would only make you think negatively, and or ashamed of yourself, which would never ever be his primary intention. Kuai Liang was too aware of the horrible people that blended within the shadows and lurked in dark alleyways, so therefore he didn’t want you getting involved in something that would alter you into a person that you would forever hate ever becoming.

Knowing now that you could fully protect yourself if the instance ever did arrive, Kuai Liang would only become more adamant in helping you incorporate moves of self defence into your arsenal, so you’ll always be ready for near enough anything if he wasn’t able to be with you.

Bi-Han

He is proud as all hell.

While your vulgar threat made his brows raise in slight surprise but mainly curiosity, having wondered where this side chaotic and violent of you had came from, but ultimately took a sickening form of satisfaction of seeing you back up your words by utterly decimating your enemy with doing what you forewarned was about to happen; He might as well looked like an utter mad man with how much attention he was giving, good lord.

He’s giving your fighting style an close and in-depth examination, taking notes on everything that you did good and everything that you could use some improvement upon with his help as though he was locked within a high intensity game of chess! Someone was getting brutally pulverised and yet Bi-Han could only watch on with genuine intrigue on articulating methods in to making you even more deadly in combat.

He’s seen a golden opportunity and he would be stupid to let it go now.

Raiden

Scared and horny 2.0

Poor baby is taken aback by your vicious side.

However he would still hold your hand as though they were made of porcelain as he takes a wet cloth and cleans away the blood and viscera from your knuckles to take care of your bruises that lied beneath from brutally beating down your enemy. You’re still the kind, caring and nurturing person he knows and loves, you just got some added qualities that’s all!

Even though your caring and nurturing nature often made you look weak and in constant need of defending in the eyes of others, Raiden didn’t see it the way that they did. While yes he felt this obligation to keep you out of harms way and keep you close, that’s just how Raiden is as a person to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves. And that was in no way shape or form meant to be taken as him disregarding your ability to protect yourself.

That wasn’t his intention and if you did believe that were the case. Then he would have no qualms in reminding you of how much he trusts you to protect yourself, even going so far as to sight this as a major example of that. Your fighting style may be consistent of the usage of deadly and lethal force but Raiden knew that you wouldn’t willingly use it against just anybody, only using it as a method of self defence first and foremost, unless further provoked into engaging in a full altercation.

Much like Tomas, Raiden probably also thought that you being covered in someone else’s blood was attractive in it’s own regard.

[bittersweetastoria]

Prompt; “You know where to find me when you want to admit how badly you want me…”

Notes; Smut. Full frick smut. But cutesy, esp toward the end. Didn't proof it, cause I've read most of it like fifteen times trying to write it from the amount of times I started and stopped writing. So apologies for any mistakes. Anyways, Enjoy this mess.

“You know where to find me when you want to admit how badly you want me…” Blinking quick and hard, your breath caught in your throat as she pulled away from your ear. Not feeling her breath, her lips ghosting the skin there, sent a chill down your spine as you damn near just gawked at her. How were you supposed to reply to that? Could you even find your voice now? Simple answer to both: No. Not a chance. She knew this though. That devious smirk upon her gorgeous face said so as she backed away from you, her fingers wiggling at you in the way she always teasingly waved at people. God, She was going to be the death of you.

Looking around, fully expecting to see people watching you.. You’re shocked to find not a damn soul had been paying attention to the private yet all too intense moment you two had shared in the damn near middle of the dance floor. Your bodies twisted all up in each other.. Your hands all over each others bodies.. Her lips leaving a trail of fire down your neck and chest where they’d trailed everytime you dared to lean back against her as you two danced. If you could even call it dancing. Cause every action had a reaction and it was obvious where this was headed, only that wasn’t something you could rightfully do in public.. and she was a public figure that must keep a good public image. You knew that.

But when she’d pulled away inevitably, your body begged for her back instantly. But you knew better. This wasn’t smart. So you’d told her no when asked if you wanted to ‘get out of here’. You wanted to smack yourself for saying it the moment it passed your lips. Especially when she gave that look. The look that called you on your bullshit for saying you had a friend you couldn’t vanish on AND needed to be up early.. Such over kill. One lie would’ve been enough. “Sure babygirl, if that’s the story you’re going with.” She teased, rolling her eyes playfully as she had leaned in and said those words that left you speechless. You hadn’t seen it then, but she’d slipped her spare room key into your jacket pocket as she left.

Only a few moments had passed since. The next song was barely to the chorus when your feet found the will to move and exit the dance floor the opposite way she had moments before. Your eyes, without your permission might you add, searched for the dark angel you’d turned down but to no avail. She’d slipped back into the darkness just has she had emerged from it. You hadn’t imagined that, right? For the love of all that was holy and unholy, it couldn’t have been just your mind. It just, couldn’t. That was all too real. Your heart was still freaking racing for Christ’s sake! And that throbbing ache.. No. You hadn’t done that to yourself. No way. It had to be real. She was real. She had to be!

Shaking your head from the swirl of thoughts going on within it. You reached for your lip product, fingers enclosing around a card of some type instead when you reached into your jacket pocket. Pulling the plastic out, you scowl at the unfamiliar plastic card as you read the card entirely. Forward and backward. Was this? Shit. It had to be. She’d slipped her hotel key into your pocket before leaving. That devious.. “Miss? This is for you.” The bartender handed over a piece of paper and a drink, one identical to the one you’d gotten when you walked in over an hour ago now. “Uh, thank you.” You speak up as you took both, he just nodded and motioned for you to read the note before scurrying off.

Opening up the piece of paper, your teeth capture your bottom lip and begin chewing on it as you held the paper in one hand - sloshing the drink around it's glass with the other. "Don’t make me wait too long, babygirl. We both know you want to, so just say fuck it and come to my room.” It read, by the end of reading it you were sipping the alcohol in hand as your fingers tapped the glass and you folded the paper back before pocketing it with the plastic key card. “Fuck it.” You spoke aloud before downing the drink and leaving the glass at the bar corner. “Thank you!” You call to the dude who gave you the drink and note before you ran out the door.

———————————————

Walking down the hallway of the fourth floor, your eyes scanned each door number for the number that matched the one on the key card in your hand. As you got further down, your eyes didn’t find the door number.. they found the dark Angel herself. “About damn time.” She spoke with a smirk as she leaned against the doorway, arms folded as she watched you approach her. When you were within reach, she grabbed your arm and pulled you inside with her before kicking the door shut and trapping you against the wall behind it. “You gonna admit it now babygirl?” She asked against your ear, feeling her lips against it sent shivers down your spine as you uneasily shifted against the wall. It wasn’t about her actions, it was all about the fire and desire she set ablaze within you doing so.

“Admit what?” You ask curiously, eyes wide and innocent. Tilting your head to the side, you lick your lips as you watch her smirk widen as she shook her head at you. “So that’s how it is.. alright, two can play that game.” Rhea spoke, already trailing her lips down from your ear down the base of your neck. It wasn’t long before she found that sweet spot right in the crook of your neck, that left you wiggling between her and the wall. Once she found it, there was no mercy to be had. “What g-game?” You manage to stutter out, arms bracing yourself on the wall as she kissed down your chest continuing on down your belly pulling your shirt out of the way as she did so. Fingers sliding under your skirt, they easily found home over your moist panties where they slipped over your heated core to tease you causing your knees to buckle.

Chuckling at her effect, Rhea stood back up and quickly scooped you from your feet. Cradling you in her arms, she grinned playfully as she quickly walked you both over to the bed and put you down by tossing you playfully on the bed. “Come back hereee.” You pout, batting your lashes at her as she stands at the foot of the bed admiring how you landed.. Hair messy and fanned around you like a halo. Shirt exposing your belly just a little. Your skirt, perfectly showing off your bottom half with how near transparent your panties had become under her spell. Rhea shook her head, amusement coloring her features as she licked her lips and turned away. Doing so had you up on your knees, crawling to the foot of the bed to see what she was doing just around the corner in some bag. You waited a moment, before pulling some ninja shit and creeping up behind her. In one swift move, you were on her back - legs locked around her waist. “Unfair darling.” Was the only response you got as she managed to easily pull you around to her front instead and pressed a heated kiss to your lips as she walked you both back to the bed.

Next thing you knew, your body was hard pressed upon the bed again. Only this time, there was no getting up because she was on top of you - and obviously stronger. “We really shouldn’t talk about what’s fair..” you spoke up, biting your lip hard as she kissed down your neck again lingering on your sweet spot as you wiggled beneath her. Your hands dared to roam between you tugging her shirt up in the process as she nimbly worked around yours which she held scrunched in the middle of your chest as she kissed across one breast to the other. “Like you’re complaining.” She teased, her piercing eyes daring to look up at you with that playful little smirk upon her lips. Kicking at her playfully, she catches your leg and works her way up it until she finds your ass and cups it mischievously for a moment before finding the top of your panties. “Feel free to object now if you’d like.” She added, hoping you wouldn’t but still giving you the chance. She wasn’t sure she’d be entirely able to stop after this point. You’d had her worked up since the moment her eyes landed on you at the club. She’d known she had to have you, even if just for a night. And the boys had been all too happy to find their own fun tonight to let her have hers.

Without a word, your digits close around hers and lifted your ass up to help ease your moist panties from your body as you chewed your bottom lip and kept your gaze on her. You didn’t just want this. You needed this. You needed her. This little game you two were playing was driving you mad. You needed her lips on your body again, her fingers against your heated and all too eager core - or better yet, in it. The thought was oh so heavenly and sinful all at once. Rhea tossed your panties to the floor, as you sat up and damn near ripped her shirt off her body before pressing your own against hers again capturing her lips as she chuckled. Happy to know you wanted this as bad as she did. As your kiss grew more heated, her strong hands found home between your thighs. Fingers playing within your wetness, teasing your little button before slipping into your tight wet core. Instinctively a little growl left her throat as she pushed you back into the bed again, hovering on top of you - your chests against each other, making her feel just how much of an effect she had on you from your racing heart beat and quickening breath. “P-please..” You begin once her lips trail down to your chest again, not even sure what you were saying. But her fingers within you felt like the highest form of ecstasy, her lips on your skin left a trail of fire you never wanted to extinguish.. Your fingers found the sheets, clutching them tight as she curled her digits within you.. Next thing you knew, her mouth was on your soaked pussy licking and playing as her fingers worked their magic bringing little mewls and moans from your pretty little mouth.

“Please what kitten?” Rhea asked playfully, licking your cunt right after which caused a shudder to spasm through your body as your toes curled. You were so damn close to coming.. so close to your undoing. But she wasn’t really ready to give you that. It was too enjoyable to watch you writhe, to watch you beg for her. “Tell mami what you want and /maybe/ she’ll give it to you.” She purred, another lick to your core only this time coupled with her fingers wiggling against that perfect little spongey spot within your heated core. You couldn’t think anymore. Only thing on your brain was cumming.. Her making you do it.. The image of her cleaning you up danced just out of reach as you pouted and moaned. “Mami..” You begin, barely able to move to see her as you now clutched your tender and neglected breasts. “Please make me cum, mami.” You beg, her free hand reaching up to squeeze one of your breasts as she grinned at you. “Good girl. Don’t hold back, okay?” As soon as you nodded, her hand slipped from your breast to your thigh. That hand held you tight and steady, opening you up more for her as she inserted another finger into your needy little cunt and began stroking the insides as she had before. Her mouth back on your little button, tongue flicking against it - you could even feel her tongue ring moving as she did.

All of it drove you mad, and in no time did she have you cumming hard and fast against her face. Your cunt bucking against her face as you screamed for your Mami, body shaking hard as you rode out your high of ecstasy upon her face. As your eyes opened again, you look down in time to see her wipe you from her face and lick it off her fingers. That alone damn near had you ready to jump her again. “God, you taste good.” She commented as she noticed you watching her. You blush hard, legs instinctively trying to close now that she’d let go finally. You were sure you’d have bruises from how hard she held you when your body tried so so hard to close up when you came. But you didn’t care. She wasn’t having it though, she moved closer in to avoid you closing them and pulled you to her. “You ever taste yourself baby?” When you shook your head, she smirked and reached down - sliding her digits through your wetness causing you to shutter before bringing her fingers to your lips. Instinctively your lips wrap around her digits, sucking them clean as you hum and she moans watching you.

When her eyes closed, probably replaying events or maybe she just really got off on licking things.. Oh knows? But you took this shot. Your only shot, at turning the tables on her and pushing her onto the bed before placing yourself - messy core and all on top of her to /try/ and keep her down. “It’s Mami’s turn.” You smirk, already undoing her jeans and pulling them apart as she crossed her arms behind her head and laid her head on them. “I’m already a mess baby.” She admitted. Could she get off again, despite having basically done so when she got you off? Oh definitely. But she was a giver, and got off most on pleasing and dominating others. Something about you on top of her though.. Shaking her head, she leaned up and tugged your shirt off leaving you in nothing but that little pink bra she had off in seconds to smoother herself between them. “Wanna try something? It’s grantees we’ll both fully get off again..” Rhea offered, her piercing eyes looking up at you as she kissed and nipped along your breasts causing your wetness to drip upon her lap where your slid when she sat up all too easily. Damn her strength.. but also bless it, because fuck.

“Try what?” You ask curiously, a little too much innocence in your voice caused her to chuckle before leaning up to kiss your lips. “I have a strap babes, I want you to ride me.” She spoke, licking your lips playfully before reaching for something a bit out of their way on the bed. Had she snuck that up when she brought you back to bed? Damn. You hadn’t noticed. At all. Playfully nipping at her tongue, you moved back to give her space to grab the strap and put it on however she needed to. You couldn’t help but grin, chewing your bottom lip again as she stripped from her pants and put the strap on over her clearly wet boxers. You’d done that? Shit. Watching intently, you’d let your mind wonder as she laid back down and for comfy again. “Come ride mami baby girl.” She purred, that little smirk all you need d to climb back onto her. You hovered, trusting her to insert the fake dick into your waiting core. Sinking down upon it, you leaned into her. Your chests meeting, Lips pressed in heated passion against hers as you adjusted to the straps girth and length. “That’s it. Good girl.” She purred, kissing down your jaw then along your neck as she used her hands on your hips to slowly help you begin moving.

Once you got going, she laid back against the pillow and crossed her arms under her head to watch you have your fun. Licking your lips, you found a pace and began riding her strap. Your lust filled eyes locked on her mirroring one’s, hands upon her tight muscular stomach for leverage - riding up more with each passing moment. “God, You’re fuckin gorgeous y/n.” Rhea spoke after a few minutes, enjoying every moment of you on top but the friction was getting to her and she needed her sinful angel below her again. All too easily, she flipped you both over with a playful smirk upon her lips as she leaned in to kiss you again. Her mouth smothering your little scream as she rammed the strap on into your needy little cunt over and over. All too easily bringing you both to the edge, you with her trusty helpful friend and her with the friction and simply watching you come undone for her all over again. “Mami..” You warned, unable to say anything else through your heavy breathing and moans. Locking her digits around yours, she stroked hard into you - once.. twice.. three times and you were screaming, juices pouring out of your around the strap onto the bed and her as she stilled within you, cumming herself from watching you fall apart.

Moments passed. Heavy breathing all that could be heard. Your body was hyper sensitive, so as Rhea slowly moved to be beside you - your body shuttered at the loss of over all contact. One moment, connected every way possible just about - the next, nothing. Years of neglect and misuse from previous partners, crept up and over took your entire being. Rhea let out a satisfying huff, her eyes catching whatever your face decided to show caused her brows to frow as she took your hand back in hers and kissed it. “Penny for your thoughts, gorgeous?” She asked a bit worried, your eyes turned to meet hers. They shifted from her eyes to your entwined fingers and back again before a small smile crossed your features. “That was amazing.” You spoke up finally, giggling a bit as you blushed and tried to hide behind your all too wild sex hair. Rhea laughed, shaking her head as she sat up and uncovered your face. “Don’t you dare. I want to see that beautiful face, especially when I know I’m the reason it’s damn near glowing right now.” She teased, pulling you up to press her lips to yours for a moment. “Ima shower right quick, if you wanna join me.. If not, keep your cute little ass right here. I don’t do that fuck and leave bullshit. I like cuddles as much as the next girl yano.” She spoke, your eyes noticing how she seemed to glow now too.

You loved it. If you could glow for her, and be her angel. She could so glow for you, and be your dark angel. “I’ll think about it.” You answer, leaning in to kiss her again. This time playfully nipping at her bottom lip, causing her to growl in response. “You’re gonna be the death of me babes.” Rhea spoke as you pulled away and sprawled back out on the bed. Hiding absolutely nothing from her now. “I’ve been saying that since I met you.” You teased back, poking your tongue out at her as she shook her head - forcing herself to walk away before you could get her going all over again. While she had fun and loved the sex, and so wanted more eventually, she really did want cuddles and just company she didn’t have to rough house and be a guy around. And honestly, she wanted to get to know the angel who’d called for her out on the dance floor tonight. Something in her universe shifted when she spotted you out there looking like a goddess. And though unbeknownst to her, your entire world shifted tonight as well..

[mirangel]

yes its me again 🌼 ranran,, 🫶

ANYWAY

imagine ur disguising as a fatui to spy, but then you got caught and is being investigated on but you keep refusing to cooperate and wont say anything so they resort to other methods to get information out of u

(straightforward version : they noncon you to get information)

THIS WORKS FOR LIKE DOTTORE OR PANTALONE IDK,, also you dont have to write this if you dont want to<3

pantalone dark nsfw drabble 1

cw: noncon, overstimulation, implied mindbreak

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

you really thought you were doing your best! as a knight of the favonius, you were working so hard to spy on the fatui for your superiors! but alas, you were caught in the end, and brought to pantalone with near tears in your eyes. he thinks you’re so pathetic and cute! he tries to coax the answers out of you, but you keep your mouth shut, which he finds so entertaining! but don’t worry, he has other methods!

you’re bent over his desk, him pounding your tight little hole with a nonchalant expression on his face! you’re crying and begging for him to stop, but you can hardly move with his hand pressed onto your back and the sweet dragging of his cock, reaching the deepest parts of you! pantalone whispers, “all you need to do is tell me everything, and i will cease.” but even as you cry out all of the secrets you’ve sworn to keep hidden, he doesn’t stop!

he’ll make you cum as many times as he wants by his hand. after all, you may not be a very good spy, but you do make a good little cock drunk pet!

FUCJKKKAAAA SCREEAAMS YOUR BRAIN??? YOUR BRAIN??? YOUR BRAIN!!! i had to take a long walk around my house after getting this in my inbox and fanning myself cause HOLY SHIT!

[lopsided-whiskey-grin]

Hey omg u said on the fic flashbang that you were taking promts n i was like omg… so heres my promot if you are into it!!!! Soap and ghost in a mission, ghost hears steps coming and stuffs both soap and himself in the nearest utility closet/locker he can see!! Easy safety… but uh-oh!! Theyre so close together!! If soap were to shift a little he might feel ghost’s cock on his ass even more… and the way ghost is breathing on his neck surely is!! something!! Will they make it out alive?!?!

anyways… thank you for flashbang it was very very good!! Have a nice day!!

this prompt weaseled itself into my tiny little brain and it would not fucking let go, so thanks for that lmaoooo I think I need a cold shower after writing this one holy shit ｡：ﾟﾟ(´∀｀)･｡ yes it escalated quickly, no i do not care enjoyyyyyy!

**********

Careful, Johnny

Word count: 1.4k

Tags:  frottage, pwp, top ghost +18 only

The mission had not been going well at all. If Soap was being totally honest, it had been fucked from the beginning. And now here he and Ghost were, hauling arse through an abandoned office building, out-manned and outgunned, quite literally. 

"I thought I told you to bring an extra clip?" Ghost hissed at him as they ran down a darkened hallway searching for cover. The heavy thud of boots echoed far too closely behind them for Soap's liking. 

"No, you said you were bringing an extra clip. I distinctly remember —"

Ghost huffed out a long-suffering sigh as he jogged alongside him. "For fuck's sake, Johnny." 

"Well, you fuckin' asked," Soap groused. They'd been on this mission for three days straight, trying to locate this particular office building and a particular USB drive hidden somewhere inside and Soap had had just about enough of Ghost.

They'd finally found what they came for about twenty minutes ago when they were set upon by a heavily armed group of mercs that didn't take kindly to having their personal property stolen. It had all gone downhill since then. 

"Where's the bloody exit in this damn place?" Ghost growled. 

Soap peered through the darkness, searching. Neither dared to use their torches lest they give away their location to the advancing enemy and it was damn near impossible to make out any kind of door anywhere. Fuck. 

They finally made it to the end of the corridor to see that it split into two directions. The hallways were identical. "Left or right?" Soap asked, trying to catch his breath. 

The footfalls behind them grew louder, ratcheting up Soap's anxiety. "Right," Ghost said. 

The whole building felt like a maze they'd never escape from and Soap was starting to worry they really wouldn't find a way out. He was so lost in his concern he almost didn't see Ghost pull to a stop and suddenly hook another right into a darkened office. Soap skidded to a stop and followed him. There was a tall cabinet at the back of the room that Ghost was opening when Soap caught up to him. 

"That doesn't look like the exit to me," Soap said. 

He could practically hear Ghost roll his eyes. "We'll hide in here until they pass us, then head back the way we came." 

Soap eyed the cabinet. It was deep enough for the couple brooms and a mop stored there, but not much else. "You're not serious. We are not going to fit in there, L.t." 

The men pursuing them were closer and would be on top of them any moment. "No time to argue, Sergeant." Ghost backed into the cabinet and grabbed Soap by his collar, tugging him in backwards with him. Soap lost his balance and slammed into Ghost's broad chest, but he managed to close the doors just as the loud thud of approaching boots passed by the office door.

Adrenaline pounded through Soap with each beat of his heart, making him feel high, giddy. 

"Holy shit, it worked," he whispered. It was a tight squeeze, but he still had about six inches of wiggle room in front of him.

Soap shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, then realized how perfectly the curve of his ass fit against Ghost's crotch. He immediately froze. Was that Ghost's sidearm digging into him? Or something else?

He moved just a hair's breadth, testing it out. 

Ghost's hands suddenly grabbed his hips, holding Soap still. "Careful, Johnny," he rasped behind him. 

Soap's cock throbbed in response. So it was something else. Soap suddenly found himself in an interesting predicament. He'd teased and flirted with Ghost before, but nothing had ever come of it… even though Soap wished it would. But because he couldn't penetrate the wall Ghost had built around himself, Soap had only fantasies and his own right hand to turn to. It wasn't enough though. He wanted to touch and taste and lay claim to everything Ghost had to offer. 

But this, this was — unexpected. Soap wasn't sure if he should chalk it up to the excitement of just being on the run for their lives, or if Ghost's apparent hard-on was due solely to Soap's ass pressing directly against his cock. 

He risked wriggling again, just a little. Ghost sucked in a sharp breath behind him and tightened his grip on Soap's hips. "Steady on, MacTavish," he warned. 

Soap smiled to himself. "Sorry, sir." 

Another group of men ran by the office door, rattling the broom next to Soap's right hand and he reached out to grab it before it could fall sideways and give away their location. He brushed against Ghost again and this time Soap could definitely feel the thick outline of Ghost's cock pressed to him. 

He swallowed, feeling his own trousers getting uncomfortably tight. "G-ghost?"

They were both breathing hard in the confined space and Johnny could feel the heat of it wash against the back of his neck. He suppressed a shiver. 

"Aw hell," Ghost's voice was rough and deep. 

The next thing Soap knew, Ghost was grinding up against him. Jesus fucking Christ. Soap couldn't help the surprised moan that fell from his lips. Ghost slapped a gloved hand over his mouth. 

"Are you trying to get us killed?" he hissed right against the soft shell of Soap's ear. 

Soap nearly passed out from the eroticism of it all. He managed to shake his head, but Ghost did not remove his hand. His heart was going a mile a minute. 

Ghost rolled his hips forward again and Soap sunk back against him, his head resting against Ghost's chest. He could feel the rapid thud of Ghost's pulse, beating just as hard as his was. 

Soap ground his ass back into Ghost's crotch, reveling in the breathless groan rumbling up from Ghost's chest. His cock, so fucking hard now in his cargos, released a spurt of precome. Fuck. He did it again and this time Ghost met it with a sharp forward thrust of his hips. 

Soap could hardly believe this was happening. God, he'd waited so long for this. Though it wasn't particularly under the best circumstances at the moment. He wasn't about to complain. Dragging in breath through flared nostrils, he rocked back against Ghost's cock once more. 

"I've heard you, you know," Ghost muttered, sliding his masked face against the side of Soap's cheek. He dropped his one hand holding Soap's hip and moved it to the hard bulge at the front of his trousers. Soap whimpered against Ghost's hand. "In the barracks. When you think everyone is asleep." He rubbed his hand up and down the straining length of him. "I've heard you say my name." 

Soap trembled under his touch. Ghost was going to drive him out of his ever loving mind. He rocked up against Ghost's hand, chasing the orgasm that was suddenly beginning to wash over him. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to focus on breathing, trying so very hard to be quiet. 

Ghost's breaths were coming in soft pants too now as he continued pumping his hips against Soap's ass. Soap brought one hand up to grip Ghost's forearm and the other down to cover Ghost's hand where he relentlessly rubbed against him. He couldn't believe he was about to come in his pants like a goddamn teenage boy. 

"Johnny," Ghost rasped his name in a broken whisper and Soap was done for. 

He came hard enough to see stars in that little closet and bit down on Ghost's palm unintentionally. Ghost came too, after a few more thrusts, holding Soap tightly back against him. 

After a moment, Ghost dropped his hand from Soap's mouth and Soap gulped in big lungfuls of air. He wanted to turn toward Ghost, to hold him, to pull that damned mask off and kiss him senseless, but there was no room. 

"What now?" he whispered, shifting uncomfortably with the wetness of his pants. 

Ghost was quiet, listening for the mercs that had chased them. Soap heard nothing. "Now we get the bloody hell out of here so I can find somewhere to fuck you properly." 

The rough timber of his voice plowed straight to Soap's core. "Aye, sir," he said with a grin, hand already pushing the closet door open. 

[scarlet-traveler]

Katsuki’s writing notes as he diligently listens to Ectoplasm’s lesson on complex numbers when he feels a tickle on his left palm where his hand is curled up next to his notebook.

He pauses for a second to peek at his hand; the light tickling sensation continues as dark lines are drawn into his skin, and he suppresses the smile that threatens to grow on his face as the message is completed in familiar messy handwriting.

Hey :)

Katsuki glances across the classroom; Eijirou is already looking back at him, and as soon as their eyes meet he beams at him and gives a little wave, pen still in hand. Katsuki just rolls his eyes in return before turning to scribble a message below the first.

Hey. You better be paying attention

The next message is almost instantaneous, scrawled along the edge of his hand: I”m trying! Ecto’s class is always confusing though. Why are numbers imaginary???

Along his thumb, Katsuki writes: fuck if I know

Up the length of his index finger: help me study later? :(

Katsuki starts to write a response, but he’s interrupted by Ectoplasm calling his name. “Seeing as you’re paying attention to the lesson, can you simplify this expression, Bakugou?”

Katsuki scoffs under his breath. This is clearly a call-out for getting distracted. No matter. His eyes sweep across the board for only a second before answering, “-76 + 3i.”

“Correct,” Ectoplasm confirms, sounding surprised, and maybe a little sheepish. It makes Katsuki smirk. Ha, serves him right. 

As the hero goes back to teaching there’s another tickle at Katsuki’s wrist: So manly babe <3

Katsuki shoots Eijirou a glare, but the idiot only grins back. Fucker.

Making sure not to be caught again, he writes: my dorm after school, don’t be late

Hearts in dark ink suddenly start to appear in every available space on his palm, and Katsuki quickly clenches his hand shut before anybody nearby can see them. He wishes he could hide the flush growing on his face just as easily.

~

For as far back as history could remember, everybody had a soulmate. It is speculated to have originated in the old myths where the gods, either fearing the power of people with two heads and two sets of arms and legs or perhaps being jealous of such a bond, split these people in half, leaving them to wander the world forever searching for their other half. The only remnant of those bonds existing today, and the key way for the soulmates to be reunited, are the markings they can make on their skin that would subsequently appear on the body of their mate.

It was romantic, it captivated the hearts of pretty much everybody, but it had been nothing of interest to Katsuki. Why devote hours of his time trying to find the person that was supposedly destined to be meant for him when he could just put his energy into being the best hero ever? He didn’t care about romance, it didn’t fit into his imagined future, so he’d ignored everything about it and his shitty soulmate. It was even easier considering he’d never written on his skin, and his soulmate hadn’t either.

Until near the end of his last year of middle school.

Katsuki was taking a test, the thought of his soulmate nowhere on his mind. He needed to work out a quick math problem but there was no room on the page, so he resorted to scribbling it out on his hand with his pen, jotting down the answer, and moving on.

He didn’t think much of it until a couple minutes later, when he felt a tickling sensation on the same hand he’d written on, enough to break his focus on the problem he was currently on. With furrowed brows he glanced at the back of his palm, only for them to scrunch up further in confusion.

Below the scribbled math notes on his palm, in a messy scrawl he didn’t recognize, where two words: HOLY SHIT

What the fuck? Katsuki tried to rub the words away, but only his own smudged under his thumb. The other message remained untouched.

He didn’t write that. Where the hell had it come from?

As if in answer, Katsuki felt a tickle on his wrist, and as the next message appeared on his skin his eyes widened, his breath leaving his lungs.

Are you my soulmate???

Katsuki couldn’t focus on his math test much after that.

Whoever his soulmate was didn’t leave him alone, cluttering his arms from his elbows down to his fingertips with words, which was fucking annoying, especially since Katsuki couldn’t wash them off himself. He had to wear long sleeves around his own damn house just to keep his parents from asking questions about the sudden appearance of the messages. And they were useless things too, like his interests or even an explanation of the math problem Katsuki had written that first day. Fuck that.

He only wrote back a week later when he’d found a message from the mystery person one morning on his fucking cheek, and it was to tell them to fuck off. They had responded enthusiastically, happy to even get a response even if it was a threat.

Katsuki’s soulmate was an idiot.

He wrote something every day, sticking to a single message every morning just to sate the bastard so he wouldn’t write on his damn face again, but at some point between classes and training for UA’s entrance exam, the messages increased to two, then five, then ten, until suddenly Katsuki was talking to this person at any opportunity he could get.

Strangely, his soulmate never asked for any personal information about Katsuki, so Katsuki didn’t ask either. They just talked. Talked about manga they were reading and anime they were watching. Talked about their favorite heroes—his idiot soulmate thought Crimson Riot was the best. All Might is right there.

Katsuki even managed to tutor them in math with abridged lessons scribbled across his forearm. He wasn’t sure how effective they were until his soulmate gushed about the B+ he’d gotten on their next test, an upgrade from a D, and he’d felt a swell of pride. Katsuku was the best tutor even while using unorthodox methods.

Weeks passed, the UA entrance exam came and went, middle school finally ended, and Katsuki was in Class 1-A as he expected. Throughout it all, he never met his soulmate. Didn’t even know their name. What he did know was that despite his initial aversion to the idea, Katsuki actually cared about his soulmate. He doubted that he loved them—it had only been a few months and all of their interactions had been contained in conversations inked onto skin, but his soulmate had now become a constant in his life that he didn’t want to live without. Maybe there really was some truth to that missing other half bullshit.

He did wonder about meeting them one day, thought about asking about it, but between classes and trying not to die from villain attacks, he doubted it would be anytime soon, especially if he didn’t know where they lived. For all Katsuki knew, they could be in another country. They would just meet whenever they met.

Turns out the universe had other plans, as the day Katsuki decided to tutor one Kirishima Eijirou at a cafe near UA, he was handed crumpled math notes written in all-too-familiar messy scrawl, and everything clicked into place.

His soulmate ended up being better than he had ever expected, but he was right about him being an idiot.

~

Katsuki was only working on his math homework for a grand total of ten minutes after reexplaining the lesson to Eijirou when he feels the all-too-familiar tickling sensation of soul marks appearing on his skin. He barely has to glance over to see the hearts appearing in blue ink on the back of his hand. The ones on his palm and the previous thread of messages are gone, washed away after he forced Eijirou to the bathroom after Ectoplasm’s class ended, but of course he doesn’t wait to start drawing on his hand again. And they’re out in the open too! The audacity of this bastard.

“Shitty Hair, I swear-”

“You made me erase the last ones, you gotta let me leave these.”

“You need to be doing your homework.”

“I won’t be drawing for too long! Just lemme finish and I’ll get back to work, promise.” Eijirou pauses long enough to meet Katsuki’s gaze, and he already feels himself folding as he’s met with the full force of Eijirou’s puppy eyes. Goddamnit.

“Fine, fuck, make it fast,” Katsuki grumbles.

“Will do, bro!” The puppy eyes disappear as Eijirou beams before continuing to draw the hearts, and Katsuki ignores the heat rising to his cheeks as he goes back to his own worksheet. 

Not that he pays much attention to it. He’s too busy watching the hearts form on his skin, across the back of his hand, along the wrist bone, onto every single knuckle with slow, precise curves. He watches Eijirou draw with such care like he’s creating the next big piece to go into an art museum rather than littering their hands with soulmarks, his tongue sticking out between sharp teeth in concentration.

Fuck, it’s adorable.

“Done!” Eijirou sits up from his hunch with a triumphant grin, observing his work with pride before looking up at Katsuki. “You like it?”

Katsuki hums, tracing over the hearts with a light touch as if scared he’ll accidentally wipe them away. “They’re not too shitty,” said way too fondly to be meant as an insult.

Eijirou must know it too, as his smile softens to something sweet, and his eyes sparkle in a way that has nothing to do with the sunlight shining through the balcony door. “Love you, man.”

Katsuki cups a hand over his mouth to hopefully hide the growing blush on his cheeks. By Eijirou’s subsequent growing smile, he isn’t successful. “Sh-Shut up, ain’t you got work to do?”

Eijirou laughs. “On it, boss,” he teases, before finally starting his own worksheet.

They work until dinnertime, Katsuki finishing his work long before then and spending the rest of the time checking over Eijirou’s work. He gives it one last lookover after the redhead finishes, giving an approving nod. “18 and 19 aren’t right, but you were on the right track so I think you can figure it out. Otherwise you’re good.”

“Yes!” Eijirou tosses his pencil down on the table, stretching his arms over his head before eventually falling back on the floor with a sigh. “Man, I’m hungry.” He tilts his head up to look at Katsuki. “Will you cook something for us?”

Katsuki rolls his eyes as if he isn’t immediately going to agree. “Sure, whatever.”

He makes a simple stir fry from what’s left in the fridge—maybe he and Eijirou could go shopping for groceries after class tomorrow—and Eijirou sits at the island to watch as he always does. He gets up to grab plates when Katsuki is nearly done though, but before he can even open the cabinet Katsuki smacks his hand out of the air. “Oi, wash first.”

“Oh, right!” Eijirou bounds over to the kitchen sink and reaches to turn on the tap, only to freeze in his tracks. Katsuki glances over as he flicks off the stove; Eijirou is staring at his hand, the one with the hearts doodled over it, a sad expression on his face. Katsuki swears he almost looks like he’s going to cry.

Fuck.

“You can draw them again after we eat,” Katsuki’s saying before his brain can catch up to the words coming out of his mouth.

Eijirou looks over at him in surprise. “Really?” Slowly the sadness disappears from his face, replaced by a smile so bright Katsuki feels the urge to squint. “Okay!” He goes on to wash up, and soon they’re eating, Eijirou’s happiness still present as he chatters away about whatever comes to mind, his free hand linked with Katsuki’s for the whole meal.

Eijirou doesn’t replace the hearts immediately after dinner. It isn’t until Katsuki is settling down for bed, Eijirou deciding to stay up later to hang with the squad, that the hearts start to reappear, just as carefully drawn as before.

And if Katsuki happens to stay up a little later to color in each heart with red and orange markers he has on hand, well, that’s between the two of them.

~

Fic written for @krbkevents KRBK Month 2023 Day 28: Soulmate! Also on AO3, let me know what you think! :D

[computerillness]

ouhggy maybe tell us more about your selfship with chuck.... ⊂⁠(⁠´⁠･⁠◡⁠･⁠⊂⁠ ⁠)⁠∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

I haven’t really thought it out much but I got some stuff about it (im not THAT active of a selfshipper). So basically, Terry (my s/i) works in IT at HHM (mainly because that is where im most knowledgeable in real life and it also makes it more ironic that he likes Chuck). He is friends with Ernesto and wants to volunteer to do errands for Chuck since he wants to take the load of his friend. In the time talking to Chuck, he realizes he likes him, I mean really likes him. They both relate to each other in the fact they are ostracized for their mental illnesses (my s/i is autistic and Chuck is well… Chuck). Chuck also finds Terry endearing and enjoys talking to him, he doesn’t really realize he also likes him too though since he has trouble with relationships. They continue to progress into some sort of secret on and off thing where they are quite affectionate with each other, but it ONLY stays in Chuck’s house since Chuck is quite high profile and him being accused of homosexuality would be quite damming to his reputation (its 2002). They continue having on and off secret rendezvous off company time and really feel a connection. Sorta skipping around, when Chuck is launching his investigation on Jimmy for swapping numbers on documents, Terry is right by his side, Chuck describes him as a “confident” to Howard and the private detective. Terry is honestly pretty neutral to Jimmy though, he thinks he is trouble but doesn’t hate him personally, he just wants to help Chuck. When Chuck delivers his chicanery monologue, Terry can be seen with his head in his hands near Rebecca. Soon after, Chuck is ultimately the one who cuts things off with Terry, saying he “doesn’t need him anymore” and that he needs to get back to being a normal person. This devastated Terry very much, as he is kind of a gay infatuated loser and has no one else in his life he can say he loves. When Chuck dies, Terry is on the side of Howard in believing it is a suicide. He has to keep himself stoic while at Chuck’s funeral to not arise suspicion about their true relationship. Although, Terry can barely even function anymore at work and loses all passion he had for his job. He sometimes just stands completely still in front of that giant Chuck portrait and reminisces about what once was. When Howard dies a year later and HHM is downsizing, he quits, seeing no value in the company anymore. I haven’t really thought about anything with him afterwards, so he probably either gets a job and is unhappy living in monotony somewhere else, or isolates himself to the point he is almost completely withdrawn from society (a NEET perhaps). I’ve also thought about him just committing suicide in various ways, but I think it would be lazy just to write him off like that.

…Holy shit this is a wall of text. Sorry it got a little dark in the end, I just wanted time to adhere to canon as closely as possible. Anyway, that’s all I’ve got, really. The main reason I am into selfship is 1) I like conjuring up stories I can live vicariously through in my head and 2) I want to see Chuck with a errand-twink (Terry is 35, but whatever, still a twink to me lolll). Thanks for asking ^_^ !!

[betweenthings2]

How about #11 or #50 for this kiss prompts with Gatty? ❤️❤️

Thank you for the ask and I'm so sorry it took so long!

I presume that you sent these two because they seem fluffy, but I regret to inform you that I made 50 sad and also it got away from me a little bit. I almost made 11 sad, but I've written them both and they're both under the cut. Hope you enjoy!

A Kiss...in joy & A Kiss...out of love

A Kiss...in joy

The first 1975 song ever played on the radio is "The City." It makes sense that it's what gets picked up out of all the tracks on the EP, but no one had really expected it. The first time Matty hears it, he doesn't register that it's his band until about halfway though the song and asking himself where he knows it from. In his defense, he's running late and he's pretty sure he forgot something. The second time is much better.

The second time is on one of those rare days when neither he nor George have anything to do so they can pass the day lazy and easy, attention on nothing but each other, half stoned and sleepy, the radio playing in the background. No one is completely willing to admit it, but all four of them have had the radio on in the background, hoping that they hear one of their songs, but not really expecting it.

Matty loves days like this. The day comes in waves, cresting in the spaces between joints and cigarettes with open-mouthed kisses and wandering hands and retreating with lungfuls of smoke, but it's easy, easy, easy, just him and George. And things are so good right now. In the back of it all sits the fact that they released an EP and are set to record a second one soon. Things are good. Things are the best they've ever been. 

In the evening, with the August sun sinking down, down, down, they move out to the garden, armed still with joints and cigarettes, and the radio. They're well and properly stoned, laying entangled in the grass and staring up at the darkening sky when Matty pauses, focusing very intently on the song that's now playing.

"D'ya know what this is?" Matty asks after a few moments. It's familiar, about too familiar, but he can't place it.

George laughs. Matty loves making him laugh, so much so that he doesn't really mind if it's at his own expense.

"George," Matty whines.

"That's us, Matty," George says.

Matty is quiet for a moment, back to listening very intently, and sure enough, that's him singing. That's "The City." "Holy shit," he says.

George laughs again, enamored.

"We're on the radio," Matty continues, like he doesn't quiet believe it. "George, we're on the radio!"

George props himself up on his elbow and grins at Matty, teasing, "Time for a headline tour? Reading and Leeds perhaps?"

"Piss off," is Matty's response, but he's smiling, too. "We're on the fuckin' radio."

George pulls Matty closer and kisses him, hard and deep, rather than responding. They only separate when they both need to breathe, and by that time "The City" is nearing its end.

"We missed most of it," Matty complains.

George chuckles again and says, "You're gonna hear that song again."

"But maybe not on the radio," Matty whines.

"We'll write something else that gets on the radio, then," George offers.

"We'd better," Matty says, faux upset painted across his features.

George's smile softens and he says, "We will. You're brilliant."

"So are you," Matty says automatically. "And we're on the fuckin' radio!"

George responds with another kiss and it’s all easy, easy, easy and things are still the best they’ve ever been.

----

A Kiss...out of love

Heathrow feels very big and very loud and very bright, despite the darkness outside the big windows. It's almost Christmas and people are everywhere, coats draped over arms and suitcases bulging with gifts to declare to customs. Matty shivers. He doesn't have anything to declare beyond a sobriety in its infancy.

He shivers again and tries to stay calm. Airports were hard when he was on something. It's hell sober. He doesn't even know who will be picking him up. He knows someone will be, but whether it's George or Jamie or a fucking hired driver he doesn't know. He could ask, he supposes, but he's strangely afraid of reaching out. He texted when he left Barbados and when he landed at Heathrow, but he hasn't gotten much in the way of responses from anyone, so he figures it's best he doesn't say anything.

He gets through passport control and trudges toward the baggage claim, doing his best to navigate around all the families of people who love each other and the little kids. Does anyone still love him? Sure, George said it every time they talked, but there was an ocean between them and everyone was relying on Matty to get sober, get better, and there's absolutely no way George could admit he doesn't love Matty anymore over the phone, so the question stands. Does George still love him? Does anyone?

And then.

And there, there, standing back from the baggage carousel, with hunched shoulders and hands in his pockets, is George. Matty stops in his tracks and does a double take. It's George because George is here for him. George is here for him. That means that George still cares a little bit. He smiles when he finally catches sight of Matty standing in the middle of the walkway, carry-on clutched in his hands. Dimly, Matty forces himself to move. George moves to meet him and even though Matty stops a few steps short, George crosses the space and pulls him into a bone crushing hug.

"'s this ok?" George asks, when Matty freezes for a split second before reciprocating.

Matty nods. "Yeah, I just, yeah."

When George lets go, he offers Matty a smile and collects Matty's carry-on before they head closer to the baggage carousel. Matty mumbles some thanks, but otherwise stays quiet. He would very much like to cling to George, hide behind his larger frame, but he's not so sure that he gets to do that anymore and suddenly he feels a lot more like crying.

They stay quiet while they wait for Matty's luggage, air heavy with everything unsaid between them. When Matty's suitcase appears on the carousel, it's George who steps forward to collect it. When they get outside, George goes to get the car, leaving Matty alone for another little while. Matty chose to wait, rather than take the crowded shuttle to the parking lot, and George had promised to be quick, but Matty is still alone again.

The drive home is quiet too, though not for a lack of trying on George's part. Matty just isn't sure how to feel. He's not sure how he does feel. He has a lot of therapy in his head and forty-one days of sobriety. It took eight days, eight whole days for the tests to come back clean, eight whole days for him to sweat out everything he'd taken. Knowing that makes him want to use again, but he could recite the phone call during which George admitted to having found and destroyed his stash verbatim.

"I don't think I can go inside, George," Matty says when George puts the car in park in their garage.

"What? Why?"

"I did a lot of drugs in this house," Matty admits. "I hid a lot of drugs in this house."

"I cleaned. I took this house apart. I found everything, Matty. I promise."

"I hid stuff in my nightstand-

"I found that."

"-and in the wine fridge-"

"That, too."

"-and in the garment bag with that suit I wore at-"

"Matty," George cuts in firmly. "I found everything. In your nightstand and the wine fridge and your closet and your backpack and in the expired fucking anti-depressants you won't take. There is nothing I haven't gone through."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. We can move, but let's go inside today, ok?"

Matty takes a deep breath, and agrees, "Ok."

So Matty climbs out of the car, puts up only token resistance when George takes his bags and they go inside. It all feels very big and Matty kind of wants to cry.

Instead, he turns to George and says, "I'm gonna shower, is that ok?"

"'course," George answers. "I got you the shampoo and conditioner you like and I took one of those fluffy towels you love to put in the dryer so it's warm when you're done. Do you have laundry?"

Matty nods.

"'k. I'll start that and I thought we'd order Chinese from that place you like? The one with the dumplings?"

Matty nods again and blinks back tears, saying, "Yeah, that'd be good, thank you."

George offers a smile and Matty flees as quickly as he can, desperate to save a little bit of face, despite the fact that George has seen him cry hundreds of times.

Matty takes his time showering, washing his hair with products that won't turn his curls into a frizzy mess and scrubbing the scent of airplanes and airports from his skin. George knocks on the door when he's almost done to announce that he's ordered dinner and has a fluffy towel warm from the dryer if Matty wants it.

When Matty does shut off the shower, the warm towel is feels like a hug and he suddenly misses George, maybe more than he had while he was gone. The mirror is fogged with steam, so swipes his hand over it, creating enough space that he can study his face, framed by dripped wet dark hair. He looks sharper, somehow, edges formed by struggle, he thinks. It's odd. He knows he gained weight in rehab. No one said it explicitly, but his jeans started fitting a little bit better and he saw the photos in his intake paperwork. He looked skeletal.

The mirror begins to fog over again as Matty contemplates and he takes it as a sign that he should go get dressed. George was kind enough to leave clothes folded on the bed for him, complete with a hoodie he's had since high school that still dwarfs Matty. When he's dressed, Matty perches on the edge of the bed and thinks, rather than going to find George. George, who is being so good to him, even when he's an irredeemable fuck up. George, who probably doesn't love him anymore, because he's an irredeemable fuck up.

George comes looking for Matty before he resolves to get up and go downstairs. He sits himself on the bed right next to Matty, their thighs pressed together, and offers a smile, saying, "Hey. You look cute in that hoodie."

"'s yours," Matty mumbles.

"That's why I left it out for you," George says. "How are you?"

Matty pauses. How is he? He's not sure he knows. He shrugs, and counters, "How are you?"

"I'm really glad you're home. I missed you."

The doorbell rings before Matty manages to formulate a response, so he lets George urge him to stand and head downstairs. George answers the door and Matty stays in the kitchen studying the space, almost like it's new. Everything is clean and tidy and there are holiday decorations up and the lights are on low, casting everything in a warm glow. It feels like home, and Matty can't stop the tears that come.

George returns from answering the door to see Matty crying in the middle of the kitchen. Worry immediately falls across his face, which makes Matty feel worse and he cries harder. He's cried a lot lately.

"What's wrong?" George asks.

"I'm fine," Matty chokes out, wiping tears away with the cuff of his sweatshirt. "I'm fine. Really."  

George frowns and it's like a knife to Matty's gut.

"I'm fine," Matty repeats. "I just need some time to adjust."

"You're crying, love," George tries.

Matty nods. "Yeah."

George closes the small space between them, rests a hand on Matty's hip, and uses his thumb to wipe a stray tear from Matty's cheek. "'s gonna be ok," he promises.

Matty looks up at George like he's looking for salvation, all brown eyes glistening with tears and damp curls. George's expression turns to a sad smile and he combs back Matty's hair and leans down for a kiss, short and innocent, but a kiss all the same.

Matty frowns when they seperate. "What was that for?"

George cocks his head like he doesn't understand and says, "'cause I love you."

Matty's breath hitches and he asks, "You do? Still?"

"Fuck, Matty, you're gonna make me cry," George says, wiping roughly at his eyes. "Of course I still love you."

"It's just," Matty pauses, steeling himself, the continues, "you didn't text when I said I landed, no one really did, and you never said it would be you at the airport and I know you said it, but I fucked a lot of things up and you yelled at me before I left and I know I deserved that, but you never yell and I kind of maybe wondered if maybe you were just saying it so I'd get my shit together."

"I, fuck, I-"

"I'm not trying to insult you," Matty interrupts quickly. "I love you. I just, I fucked up. Monumentally. There's only so much you'll forgive and I guess I kind of wondered if maybe I pushed too far and you were trying to let me down easy."

"I forgot my phone," George explains. "I had a meeting this morning that I was late for and I was halfway there before I realized and it ran late and I went straight from the meeting to the airport. I didn't wanna be late to meet you."

Matty slumps. "Oh." He's not entirely sure what to do with that. Then, "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry about everything."

"I know," George murmurs. "I forgive you and I love you." He kisses Matty again, this one deeper and longer, and when they separate, he repeats, "I love you."

Matty looks back at George likes he's found salvation and echoes, "I love you, too."

[smaragaide]

Hi.

I just read House of Green and Black and holy shit, this is so good. It took me a couple days to bust through it but damn. I'm in love! It's everything that I love in a story. Dark gothic vibes, dark and complicated romance, the hero is not your typical beefy gorgeous male character. I think this is why I like Petyr Baelish so much cuz he can be so much more and you've taken that to the moon and back. I love how you write him and keep him complicated.

Sansa. My poor baby. She's been through hell and it isn't over. The kids.

I'm thinking of all these dreams she's having and wonder how they play out. It seems like she's seeing the future or maybe I'm reading it all wrong. I like how you keep to specific pov's so you see everything play out in their pov even though you know other shit is going on. Really great way to build suspense. Just because Sansa doesn't know, then you see what Petyr is up to and vice versa. It's a really cool switch where he's in control early on and now he's the one wondering wtf happened.

Bruh, I really hope you finish this. I think I might have an idea of where it's going. There's a lot of real world vs fantasy and what is real or if the characters know what's real or if maybe they're going crazy and you don't know which one is losing it?

Of if the fairies, kinda like the fates are in control or know this is what has to happen. I really want a happy ending but I honestly don't care at this point. If I have to cry my eyes out, I will do so and still be happy.

This should be published. It's that effing good. You are an amazing writer and I'm a firm believer that there are better stories and writers doing fan fiction that shit I've paid money for in the bookstore.

I don't even care it's Game of Thrones based. This plot is excellent all by itself. It's rare that I feel like I'm completely immersed in a character and story where I can't stop reading.

I really hope you consider finishing this story. It's honestly one of the best pieces of gothic fantasy fiction I've read in years. This would make a killer movie.

Oh wow. I don't know what to say but a humble thank you for that.

Ironically, I'm actually debating whether I should finish this story as it is (fanfiction) or completely re-write for an original novel. I have the most awesome person on the planet willing to help me and I better make a decision soon.

You're on the right track but I won't say on which points you've made. It would spoil the entire ending.

I spent a lot of time with foreshadowing, leaving red herrings (which come into play in ways the reader might not expect). There is quite a bit on my playing with Irish folklore but keeping it vague enough to work with my plot.

Sansa has questioned her sanity already and gone through the ringer and now in a way, it's Petyr's turn. You're right. He is usually in control and to have that taken away from him, rather eats him alive.

There is emphasis on fate and choices as a theme to the very end.

There are actually a LOT of hints along the way that will make complete sense at the end when the reader and two character finally figure things out. I hope I've laid enough down that when a big reveal comes it shocks everyone. There is quite a twist near the end that I don't think anyone knows, except my sweet, loving beta editor.

She has been cursed with all my crazy ass notes and outlining. But it's different than actually READING it play out.

It's weird because when I write, I see a movie play out. I want to see, feel, touch, smell everything. I like using the 3rd Person Limited POV. The character can be an unreliable narrator and the reader only finds out when the character does. The only way this plot works is to use both Sansa and Petyr's POV due to the complexity of the story.

I don't like 3rd Person Omniscient because it rather ruins the suspense with that 'all knowing' narrator. I really wanted the reader to feel like they're in the story.

I really need to get off my ass and finish it. I think by then if anyone thinks it's worth publishing, I'll go through and change the necessary things to make it wholly original (character names, places, etc). I've actually loosely based this on GOT, meaning I used a few characters to use their traits and relationships more than a true fanfiction that resembles canon.

I suppose if readers want that, I have plenty of stories that are more canon related. I guess my modern PxS fic is super loose on the GOT stuff too but oh well.

Lord, I'm sorry. I can go on forever.

I really appreciate that you binged that monster and it didn't bore you.

Again, I'm very humbled by your kind words.

[127-mile]

I have this is how you lose the time war and the invisible life of addie larue on my to read list, i'm super excited about them!!!

I unfortunately didn't have time or energy to read during uni, and then i started working full time so once again, no time or energy, but then i started working from home and I make my own hours now, so this year I have been reading non stop, and it's been amazing!!

My most recent fave is the southern reach trilogy by jeff vandermeer, the first book (annihilation) is written from the pov of a biologist, and it not only worked soo well for the story, but also I felt represented like those would have been my thought processes too. After borrowing it from the library I had to buy the books immediately cause I feel like there are a lot of questions that I didn't find the answer for during the first read, and i'm happy to go at it again.

I don't really like whodunits in general but I read the seven deaths of evelyn hardcastle and it was surprisingly entertaining! Of course it had it's flaws but I really enjoyed the structure and the game part of it.

I think the book with the biggest impact on me this year was how high we go in the dark by Sequoia nagamatsu, it was amazing and horrible and sad and fascinating and hopeful, I really enjoyed how the chapters were connected and the ending!!!!!! No words.

I wanted a palate cleanser after that book so I read the shuddering by ania ahlborn and holy shit I only wanted a fun little creature horror but it was so good??? I was so scared it was amazing. Another good horror for me was near the bone by christina henry, it was so tense I couldn't put it down I had to read it in one night.

And of course we had fairytale by king too which was another ride.

I am a huuge horror fan when it comes to books, so i would love to hear about your all time favourite and your current favourite horror novels :D

Ohh! Do let me know when you read it, I would love to hear what you think of them.

I understand, there are times when life doesn't allow us to read but I'm glad you now have time to read as much as you want. Feels nice uh.

I've checked the names you have given, and southern reach sounds interesting. The summary of how high we go in the dark tickled something in my brain, so I will look for the book.

Okay, I read the summary of Near the bones and I feel like I've read it but I'm not sure. I'll have to check that too!

I haven't read Fairytale yet, I'm waiting for the library to receive it.

I wish I had the chance to read multiple good horror books but unfortunately most were flops. Maybe because scaring me is kind of complicated. But there are two horror books from my favorite author, Franck Thilliez, that I would love to read again for the very first time.

Puzzle (I think the English title is Paranoia) is absolutely amazing. I would use psychological horror more than anything to describe it. It has the treasure hunt trope in an abandoned psychiatric hospital in the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm with two rules: Nothing is real. One of you is going to die. And it's one of the books I could talk about for hours. They made it into a graphic novel too, it was rushed obviously but it was nice too.

Another one of him (I have no idea if it was translated) is called La forêt des ombres (the forest of shadows) about a mortician/writer called by a man who wants him to write a book about this horrible serial killer while living in a cabin in the middle of a forest with his family.

Other than that, I've read a couple books of Aron Beauregard, but you need to have a good stomach for that. The basic of the Haunting of Hill house too, The exorcist.. And I've been a big Stephen King fan since I was young so I've read those too even if I wouldn't consider half horror but eh, some are good.

If you have good horror recs, please, I am on my knees lol.

[chromes-corner]

Wait wait!! I just had an idea since I heavily simp for Dark Cacao Cookie himself!! How about he secretly has a breeding kink?? His thoughts of you being pregnant with his first born (aka Dark Choco Cookie) will make him absolutely feral and crave of you so much!! He even marks you up, both of your neck and shoulders to show on how much he loves you and reader gladly shows it off by wearing a loose kimono.

- 🌹 anon (again)

*if this makes you even a bit of discomfort, feel free to delete this ask!

🌹 anon i want you to know that this request has lived rent-free in my head since the moment it flew into my inbox. did you, like, hire someone to follow me around and learn exactly what makes me tick????? because holy shit this encapsulates EVERYTHING THAT I LIVE FOR. I LOVE YOU FOR THIS. MWAH KISSES FOR YOU <3

i hope you enjoy this one bc i sure loved writing it lmao

---

Celebrations (NSFW)

Dark Cacao/AFAB!Reader

Notes: this is so fucking filthy oh my GOD

Content Warnings: NSFW. Like, very NSFW

A/N: cookie run fandom i am so sorry for this one

The hallways of the castle are bustling, same as they always are. A group of soldiers sits huddled around a table, enjoying high spirits with their overflowing mugs and boisterously jabbering between themselves. A wrestling match between two breaks out, and a crowd of tipsy, off-duty guards gathers to cheer. A gaggle of women shuffles down the hall, giggling in hushed voices as they pass by the rabble. Even a few priests, normally buried in their work, had stopped to coincide with the rowdy brawn of the soldiers. With the Wall reinforced at last, it is only natural that the hardened, world-weary citizens of Dark Cacao take a break and enjoy the finer things life has to offer — such as beating down on their fellow comrades in friendly, drunken combat.

Dark Cacao throws a glance at the celebrating soldiers. He is just as proud of their work as they are, but he lacks the time to properly commemorate the accomplishment. A member of his court walks by his side, discussing with him an upcoming council meeting on the state and future of the villages beyond the walls of the Kingdom. He nods and hums along to the man at his side, giving an occasional bit of candid input when needed. As they discuss the village representatives set to join the council at the meeting, they turn a corner, and the conversation suddenly becomes very one-sided.

You’re standing at the opposite end of the hall, beneath an ornate oil painting of the snowy landscape. You hold a smoldering stick of incense in your fingers before placing it carefully in its holder. The earthy fragrance hits his senses near-instantly, but the scent is not what causes him to trail off in the middle of his sentence.

Your robes, so often neatly wrapped around your body, now hang loosely over your figure. The collar, messily ruffled and open, leaves little to the imagination, and Dark Cacao swallows thickly as his eyes trace over the bare curve of your shoulder. On your shoulder, though, is a mark. An indent that forms a half-circle at the junction of your neck and collarbone. Dark Cacao swipes his tongue over the sharp wedges of his front teeth as he recognizes the pattern of the markings that faintly litter your skin.

His eyes travel down past your shoulders and chest — only after taking a good look at the exposed skin — and land on your stomach, where one of your hands clutches lightly at the fabric of your clothes, adjusting it to your form. The knot that secures the robes to your body is loose. The material could easily be torn from your waist. Your clothing could be pushed up or discarded. A thousand different scenarios of ripping you free of your adornments play in Dark Cacao’s head at lightning speeds, and his heart rate suddenly begins to pick up. He imagines you under him, on top of him, bent over, on your knees, and a whole cocktail of other possible positions. One image, however, sticks out from the rest.

He imagines you heavy with his child. 

As his eyes trace the contour of your stomach, the thought hits Dark Cacao like a bolt from a crossbow. It’s a simple image, one that isn’t as raunchy as the rest, but it sets his gut on fire. You’re already his spouse, but to have you bear his child? It brings a new sort of arousal that sets his nerves alight and pools in his loins. There is something about it that makes the tips of his fingers twitch. Something that fills his mouth with saliva. Something that heightens every sense in his body and trains them all on you. 

He has to get you alone. He has to get himself alone. 

“Why don’t you celebrate our victory this evening?” Dark Cacao says all too quickly, interrupting whatever it was the young court member was worrying himself over. “The Court will not convene for a while. We will work out the finer details at a later date.”

The man folds his hands together, clearly still concerned over the meeting. He opens his mouth to argue, but then changes his mind about protesting against his King's wishes.

“Of course, my lord.” He offers a bow and quickly walks off.

No time is wasted. No hesitation occurs. You are none the wiser to the hungry eyes that roam your every edge. Dark Cacao drifts towards you, each step precise and meticulously placed. The bustle of the crowd is behind him. It is only the two of you in the hallway. Adrenaline akin to that received following a battle rages through his blood, thumping through his veins with unrelenting vigor as he closes in on his prey.

Dark Cacao wrenches you around by the shoulder and presses your back to the castle wall. You are sandwiched between unimaginable cold and palpable heat in the blink of an eye. Ragged breathing fills one of your ears as he leans in, so close you can feel the thump of his heart against your own chest. Warm puffs of air spread across the bare skin of your neck. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Though the incense beside you continues to smoke, all you can smell is the heady bitterness of the man pinning you down.

“What are these games you are trying to play with me?” His voice is so low and quiet that it merely comes out as a breathy rumble.

You sweetly hum in faux confusion. “Games? I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.”

Dark Cacao presses the flats of his teeth against the shell of your ear and snarls. “Don’t play coy with your King. Are you trying to garner the attention of all the men in the Kingdom?”

You lean in just as close as he is and drop your voice to a whisper. “No, just yours. And I can see it worked.”

Your body is flush with his, and you can feel the bump of his erection digging into your lower stomach. It only jabs you further at your insinuation.

Dark Cacao’s only answer is a gruff hmph. You can feel the vibrations of the grunt in his chest, and it sends a shiver shooting down your spine. He trails a hot exhale down your ear, then latches himself right below the point of your jaw. Sharp teeth nestle into your skin where he sucks, and when you make a noise at the sensation, those same teeth clamp down dangerously close to your vital arteries with a reverberating growl.

Your playful provocativity falters as you remember where you are. You cast a nervous glance down the hall. “Anyone could turn the corner and see us, my King.”

“And what would they do?” Dark Cacao rumbles. “Interrupt their King?”

“I suppose not,” you say, “but I would still prefer to seek privacy. That is if you plan to continue?”

Dark Cacao gives you a final nibble and pulls away with a soft pop, leaving you cold in the absence of his heat. There is no doubt in your mind that there is a large red mark on your neck, and in a very visible place, no less. The thought does not bother you nearly as much as it should. He wordlessly takes you by the hand and pulls you along, his steps swift. Though his words have been blunt and jagged, the small squeeze he gives your hand lets you know that the pointedness of his attitude is merely an act fueled by ravenous hormones.

The two of you slip through a pair of large paneled doors that lead to a dark room, illuminated only by the glow of the hushed violet flames of the braziers affixed to the walls. The walls are thick and soundproof, as when you closed the heavy doors behind you with a thunk, the room deafened to the prattle outside. A towering bookshelf makes up one of the walls, containing thick, leather-bound books of all sizes imaginable. An unlit fireplace is nestled into the far wall, behind an ancient-looking desk in the middle of the room. The wooden desk is adorned with a stack of books, and various quills and papers are scattered across its surface.

You walk lightly across the hefty fur rug that spans half the room as you are tugged deeper into the study. You’re suddenly whirled around in front of Dark Cacao, and he drives you backward until you find yourself sitting on the desk. Papers have already been sent fluttering towards the ground, and Dark Cacao shoves the remaining books aside. They fall with a heavy thump onto the stone floor.

You are not given so much as a warning before Dark Cacao notches his teeth into your skin once again. He’s taken to the other side of your neck, latching on like a wolf on a lamb and pressing his tongue flat against your fluttering pulse. His groans come out as growls, vibrating in the back of his throat, when you grasp at his hair for leverage. His hands busy themselves with shoving the fabric of your robes aside to reach the heated bareness within.

“All this festivity over the Wall and I have not yet had a chance to celebrate,” he says lowly, “until now.”

You press your cheek against his head with a satisfied sigh. “And what shall you do to celebrate, love?”

Dark Cacao stops as if in thought. The pause lasts years, it seems, as he remains frozen in place. He removes his mouth from your shoulder, the area growing cold where his saliva still lingers. Then, with a movement that slows time itself, he turns to brush his wetted lips against your ear.

Your name rolls off his tongue like it’s spelled with silk. His voice is breathless and barely louder than the soft crackling of the flames. His hand skirts down your back, dragging the material of your clothes with it. The folds slide off your shoulders and pool around your hips on the desk.

“I am going to fill you, my dear,” Dark Cacao’s voice is deathly quiet, and yet it blares in the stillness of the empty study. “And you will take every last drop. You will feel me between your legs long after I am done with you.”

Each syllable sends an electric jolt through your gut, and your legs spread subconsciously at every drawn-out enunciation. This does not go unnoticed, as Dark Cacao brings you closer to him, so close that you’re only half-sitting on the desk, and more so being supported upright by tightening your legs around his hips. He bunches up the bottom of your robes and smooths a hand up your thigh, inching over the sensitive skin at unbearably slow speeds. When he reaches your pelvis, he hums in near-surprise. He rolls his thumb over the slickness between your legs. You’re not wearing anything underneath.

Dark Cacao pulls away and closely inspects his handiwork — the marks on your neck and the flush on your face. Goosebumps rise on your skin at both the lack of contact and the way he studies every bit of you with enigmatic deliberation.

“Flip over.”

You obey without question. You stand, legs quivering, and turn around, pushing your thighs against the desk and supporting yourself with your hands. Your clothes become a heap of fabric on the floor. The dusty, polished wood beneath your palms is cool to the touch, nothing like the body that bears down on your back after a moment of adjustment.

Dark Cacao grazes his teeth over your shoulder before fitting them into the marks he had left before. His hands wander, then settle, one between your legs and the other over your sternum. Between him finding the sweet spots on your neck and his calloused fingers working your lower half, you find that you’re lowering yourself to plant your forearms firmly on the desk. Even that is too much effort as he leans some of his weight on you with a hardy clamp of his jaws, and you have no choice but to collapse entirely across the flat surface.

He once again pulls back, and you’re getting rather tired of the cold that rushes to fill the space where he once was. Dark Cacao trails a hand down your back. It leaves a trail of electricity that tingles down your spine. You shiver in anticipation.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he muses, “waiting for me to breed you. Would you like that? Do you wish for me to spill myself inside of you?”

Cheek flat against the wood and legs rubbing together, all you can offer is a weak, “Yes.”

He slides himself in with ease, and you grip the edge of the desk as he does so. Dark Cacao is so thick that your every little squirm or twitch involuntarily squeezes his girth. So delectably sleeved around him once he hilts, you can do nothing but shake and gasp once he starts rocking himself inside you. It’s slow, careful almost, as he knows how easy it would be to hurt you. While endearing, however, it’s just not enough.

“Please,” you moan, grabbing his attention.

He is attentive to your needs, leaning down and whispering, “What is it, my dear?”

“I— I need more.” You stuff your knuckles in your mouth when you hear his strangled groan. “Oh, Divines— I need all of it. Please, Dark Cacao.”

At the mention of his name, Dark Cacao’s hips buck forward. The desk beneath you screeches on the stone floor as it lurches forward, and you cry out with it. He plants his hands on the edge of the desk next to your head and snarls like an animal. When you say his name again, you are met with the same reaction.

The desk continues to rattle in protest against the floor, but all you can hear are the obscene sounds coming from behind you. The only thing on your mind is him, and your vocals reflect that as you call his name over and over and over again. Each shout becomes louder and more desperate than the last. Dark Cacao’s long hair tickles you as he leans over your back.

“I am going to fill you,” he grunts, echoing previous sentiments, but with considerably less control than before. “Would you like that? Would you like to carry my heir?”

“Yes, yes,” you whimper, white edging your vision as the spring in your gut coils tighter and tighter. “Oh Gods, I’m going to—”

“Not yet,” Dark Cacao gruffly mumbles, stroking a hand down your shoulder blade, thumbing over the angry red marks he had previously left.

His pace is unrelenting, pushing you back and forth on the table like you’re weightless. Your heels bounce from the ground at the force of every thrust, filling you entirely before he pulls himself nearly all the way out, and the cycle begins again. You beg for release with each pass, your entire body on fire and sparks flying in your vision. The burning coil in your stomach threatens to shatter

You say his name, just like you have countless times before. “Dark Cacao, please, come inside me. Give me a baby,” you cry. 

Dark Cacao’s pace becomes sloppy and erratic, entirely offbeat from the perfected metronome of before. His pupils constrict into slits and he roars. It’s feral and it’s abrupt and it pushes you over the edge. Your vision is washed over with white as every muscle in your body pulses, your fingernails digging into the wood and your feet scrabbling for purchase. You can feel him twitch inside you, and after a final pump, your insides are coated with his seed.

Though your lower half is now entirely numb, having ridden off your high, you can still feel the liquid seeping within you. Dark Cacao, fully spent, pulls out — only after making sure every last drop was deposited within — and you can feel him behind to drip down your legs. Two sets of heavy breathing fill the room as you huff and puff, attempting to regulate your lungs. You try to get up, but your weak legs buckle underneath you.

Dark Cacao catches you and hefts you onto the desk, not caring about the mess he’s made of you. He dips back down to your neck, this time giving it feather-light kisses. He traces over the fresh indents he’s made with a gentle finger, softly and delicately.

“Our child will be perfect,” he sighs, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles sweetly, as though he didn’t just wreck your entire shit. “We will try as many times as it takes to bring ourselves a little heir.”

“Dark Cacao…” you say quietly, suddenly nervous about a truth you’ve withheld. You brush the wild, unkempt hair from his face. “About that…”

He looks at you expectantly, eyes wide and clutching your hand in his.

Your lips purse over a wide smile that threatens to break free. “I’m already pregnant.”

[sunrisefairy]

My muse

Pairing: Art student!Sirius x reader Warning: NSFW! MDNI 18+, swearing, fingering, unprotected sex, if I’ve forgotten anything please let me know! Summary: Sirius is struggling with an art assignment until he finds inspiration in his girlfriend. Or the one when Sirius and reader bang on a canvas.  A/N: wrote this for @anxiousblanketqueen writing challenge, I had a lot of fun with this one Jill so I hope you enjoy it too. Based of the prompt Art Sex. This article is helpful with visualising the art work!

Taglist: if you’re crossed out i couldn’t tag you @theweasleyslut​ @anxiousblanketqueen​ @accioweaslcy​ @widowdays​ @inglourious-imagines​ @garbdump​ @star-sunshine-sage​ @weelittleweasley​ @a-dusty-emerald​ @starlightkell​ @omghufflepuff​ @weasleysprincess​ @j-amespotter​ @gryffindorgirl To be added to the taglist click here 

“Oh my god this is fucking bullshit!” Sirius groans before throwing his paint brush, it landing with a clatter on the hardwood floor of his art studio.

You hear all the commotion from the kitchen and decided to check in on your boyfriend. It was nearing the end of the term and Sirius had been very agitated and snappy from all the stress.

“You okay babe?” you poke your head through the door to see Sirius standing in the middle of the room, practically death staring a half-finished painting resting on one of his wooden easels.

“Fucking bullshit,” your boyfriend mumbles, clenching and unclenching his paint stained hands.

You slowly walk up to him and wind your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his white cotton t-shirt, “wanna talk to me about it?” you whisper.

Sirius twists in your grip until he’s facing you allowing you to get a good look at him; his shoulders are tense, his jaw clenched tightly from the pressure of school and his eyebrows are furrowed which has become a regular facial expression of him the past few weeks. You reach your hand up and delicately trace the worry lines in his forehead. Sirius immediately relaxes at your touch; his faces becomes more natural and his shoulders slump. Since dating Sirius you’ve come to understand how much he struggles to talk about his feelings. He doesn’t like dumping his problems on those around him as it makes him feel like a burden. So you try your best to be patient with him and always remind him you’ll be here no matter what.

“Just stressed about school,” Sirius murmurs his eyes looking down at the floor between your bodies.

You let your hand fall down to his shoulders, lightly squeezing, “yeah? What about school?”

Sirius’ hands find their way under the t-shirt you’re wearing which evidently is one of his that you’ve stolen, he lets his fingers trace patterns on your warm skin. “Just this one assignment is making me go insane. Can’t seem to get it right.” He gestures to the canvas sitting in the middle of the room.

If you’re being honest, anything Sirius paints leaves you memorised and evokes numerous emotions from you. You are constantly telling your boyfriend how talented he is and every time he’ll roll his eyes at your compliment. “I think it looks amazing babe,” you state truthfully.

To no surprise, Sirius rolls his eyes at your comment. “yes, well you have to say that ‘cos you’re my girlfriend.”

Sirius leaves your embrace and walks back over to the painting, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning so intensely you think laser beam might shoot from his eyes and through this artwork. He starts mumbling again, irritation is laced thickly on his words, “representation of raw love,” he mocks, “what a load of utter crap. My professor is so pretentious, the only instruction he gives us for this stupid bloody assignment is ‘make a piece which represents raw love’ what does that even mean? I’ll tell you what it is, it’s fucking bullshit.”

You shuffle closer to Sirius so you’re standing at his side, both staring at his current piece. You’re not really sure how to help, you’re no artist but you hate seeing Sirius so worked up. “What are other people in your class doing for the assignment? Maybe you can gather inspiration from them?”

Sirius shrugs and stuffs his hands in his dark jeans which are covered in paint splatters, “Kirra’s doing a photography piece of her husband and kids, Gage is making some sculpture of his dog.”

“Alright,” you pause for a brief moment “well maybe think of ways people show love or how you show love, like real emotional love ya’know?” you feel like you’re grasping at straws here and making up some bullshit.

You glance over at Sirius, he’s biting his bottom lip deep in thought, you stay silent not really knowing what else to say to assist him. Slowly a look of realisation washes over your boyfriend’s face, eyes wide and a grin gracing his lips. “Holy shit baby, you’re a genius!”

Butterflies erupt deep in your belly from the praise and you giggle when Sirius starts peppering your face with tiny kisses to show his gratitude. Eventually he connects your lips together in what you thought would be a short but sweet kiss. However, you squeak in surprise when Sirius quickly deepens the kiss, his hands gripping tightly at your waist before slowly moving them down to grope at your arse.

“You should probably get working on your project then Sirius,” you breathe against his mouth, disappointed to stop things before they get too heated but you know Sirius’ inspiration comes and goes in waves and if you wait until after the two of you get off, then he might fall back into feeling unmotivated again.

“I am working on it,” you pull away confusion all over your face.

“What do you mean?” you query.

Sirius chuckles and moves away from you to move the canvas and easel to the edge of the room out of the way, he starts laying out a large piece of cream canvas fabric on the floor. “Think about it, what’s a way people show love?” he asks you, squirting numerous colours of paint carelessly onto the fabric.

“Babe there’s a lot of way people show love,” you answer puzzled, what did making out with you have to do with his piece? And why was he now squirting colours onto a blank canvas.

Sirius continues, “yes I know that but what about a raw, emotional way people show love? a primal way to show love so to speak?”

When you finally look back up at Sirius’ face you’re met with a cheeky smirk that you know all too well. It’s not until he removes his shirt do you connect the dots. “Sirius I’m not letting you fuck me on this canvas for a university project for god’s sake.”

The raven-haired boy’s grin only widens as he slowly moves closer to you, his eyes burning into your skin. You feel hot and vulnerable under his gaze, it’s like he’s stalking his prey. Your breath hitches in your throat when Sirius’ body is pressed flush against your own and you can feel his hot breath fanning your face as he speaks in a low, hushed tone, “I’m not going to fuck you,” his voice drops an octave like it does when he’s feeling horny. Just the tone of his voice alone causes a wetness to pool in your panties. “Wanna make love to you baby. Wanna show you how much I love you, can I do that darlin’?”

You bite your lip trying to swallow the moan that is threatening to spill from your mouth when Sirius starts leaving sloppy kisses on your neck. Damn Sirius Black for knowing all your weak spots.

“Just want to make you feel good baby girl,” he tugs the off t-shirt your body. “Can I do that? Can I make you feel good?”

You close your eyes and focus on Sirius’ large hands cupping and massaging your breasts tenderly, you always were putty in his hands. Fuck it you thought. “Yes, please make love to me Sirius.”

The boy grins and whispers a thank you against your skin. He takes no time in removing both of your clothes until you’re standing in front of each other naked. You and Sirius take the opportunity to study each other. You gaze over all the curves and lines on Sirius’ body, the way his muscle flex and move, the freckle on his hip bone, the tiny scar on his left shoulder, the coarse hair of his happy trail. He was beautiful, stunning, breathtaking. And he was all yours.

Sirius helps you lay down against the canvas, you gasp at the cold, squishy feeling of the paint beneath you. It feels foreign but not unwelcoming, you wriggle a little, enjoying the way the substance slides around. Sirius kneels between your legs, relishing in the way your chest is already rising and falling frantically from arousal, “so gorgeous darlin,” he traces a finger down from your collar bone all the way to your core finding it soaked already.

You squirm when Sirius teases your entrance with his finger, the cold paint moving and mixing into the canvas under you. A quiet whine escapes your lips the moment Sirius pushes his index finger inside you and starts pumping it steadily.

“Need you to be loud for me baby, want to know how good I make you feel ‘kay?” Sirius commands trying to get into a comfortable position in between your spread legs, his body sliding slighting from the paint.

You answer him with a loud moan. Soon Sirius has added 2 more fingers into the mix causing you to wriggle and rock your hips into his hand, “so good Sirius, fuck.”

With his free hand, Sirius grips your thigh trying to keep you still, blue paint smears against the soft flesh of your thigh and Sirius is captured by how striking you look laying here right now, chest flushed, and eyes closed. The way your body is squirming from pleasure is causing the paint on the canvas to blend and mix together. Sirius scoops up some red paint from the fabric and swipes it across your breasts and over your nipples, “so pretty.” He mumbles tugging and pinching your nipples.

“Sirius,” you pant desperately, “please. Need more.”

Sirius withdraws his fingers earning a whine from you and strokes his cock a few times before lining it up with your entrance, “shh darlin’. M’here to make you feel good, yeah? Want me to make you feel good?”

You wrap your legs around him urging him to finally push into you. You needed it, needed to feel Sirius stretch you out and fill you up with his cock, needed to hear Sirius gasp and groan into your ear, needed to feel him rock his hips into yours, “please Sirius.”

With a low groan escapes from both of you when Sirius finally pushes into you, Sirius begins thrusting his hips deep and slow into yours, both of your relishing in the feeling and sensation coursing your bodies. Hands around running along the others body, squeezing, tugging, scratching at skin, leaving traces of paint in its wake. Sirius has buried his head in the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek, mumbling how beautiful you look spread out for him.

Deeper, you need it deeper. Wrapping your legs tightly around your boyfriend, you manage to roll the two of you over, Sirius underneath you with you straddling his waist, allowing you to bounce of his cock. From this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, his hard cock prodding at that sponging spot inside of you. The pure affection and love the two of you feel for each other was unmistakeable in this moment. The tenderness and intimacy of this act made your toes tingle and heart warm in your chest.

Continuing to bounce up and down on Sirius cock, you take a second to watch the boy below you, the only word seemingly fitting to describe him was angelic. His dark locks are sprawled out around the canvas, a mixture of red, blue and purple paint framing his body as well as splotches on his skin. His eyes are trained on yours, a look set in them that you’ve come to be familiar with, undying love.

You lower your head to connect your lips together, wanting-no needing to feel close, to feel connected.

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly against Sirius’ pink lips. You feel that familiar euphoric sensation creeping up on you, Sirius’ cock hitting your g-spot every time you lower your body.

Sirius’ grips your waist tight and firmly, his own hips slamming up into you, “I love you too baby, so much.” He can feel your pussy clenching around him, he watches the way your breasts bounce between your bodies, he reaches his head forward to latch his mouth onto your nipple, sucking and licking on the sensitive bud. The noises slipping from your mouth makes his cock twitch.

“Sirius,” you pant threading your fingers through his dark hair to keep him close to your body.

Your body feels like it’s on fire and ready to combust, your legs trembling, and you know you won’t last much longer with the way Sirius is suckling at your nipple and he knows it.

“Want you to cum for me darlin, be my good girl and cum on my cock,” he groans into your breast, sucking and licking at your salty skin.

The coil in the pit of your belly snaps and with a load high pitched whine you’re releasing all over Sirius’ cock, your pussy clenching and legs shaking from the stimulation. After your release, it only takes Sirius a few more thrusts until he’s following suit, his load shooting and filling you up, a string of I love you’s tumbling from both of your mouths.

You collapse onto Sirius’ chest, neither of you make any effort to move even once your breathing has settled. Laying here with Sirius made you feel safe and protected. The way his index finger was trailing up and down your spine made you shiver, and you could feel him kissing your scalp gently. Undeniably, there was love radiating from his body, you could feel it and you only hope he could feel it radiating from yours too.

~~~

“Hey guys, that painting hanging up in the bedroom is new, yeah?” James questions, traipsing back into the living room where the rest of the group was.

You feel a heat rise in your cheeks when you realise which painting the bespectacled boy is referring too. Sirius nods pulling you tighter into his side.

“Did you paint that one Pads?” Remus asks. Most, if not all the artwork displayed in yours and Sirius’ home was created by him. It normally took a bit of persuading Sirius to let you hang up his work, he didn’t like to come across as cocky. But as soon as this canvas was dried and stretched onto a frame Sirius wasted no time in mounting it; above your shared bed, him claiming it ‘gets him in the mood whenever he looks at it’ (and he really wasn’t lying).

The boy beside you grins and plants a sloppy kiss against your cheek, “me and Y/N painted that one,” he says teasingly.

You shoot him a death glare warning him to keep his big mouth shut. “Don’t,” you mouth.

“That’s so cool! Didn’t know you were so artistic Y/N!” James exclaims excitedly, clearly impressed by the painting.

Sirius chuckles loudly pinching your side making you yelp, “oh she’s very talented when he comes to that type of stuff. I think we might need to make another piece together babe, what do you think?”

[hiddens-eden]

The Last Tune (Emmett Cullen x Male!Reader) Pt 1

Paring; Emmett Cullen x Male Reader + Cullen Family x Male Reader (PLATONIC)

Warning: Cursing, Abuse, Tramua, Angst

Pronouns; He/Him

Spelling checked; No

Summary; Y/N is a quiet boy that's had his fair share of physical and emotional trauma, so he loves to keep to himself. He barely interacts with anyone unless needed and prefers to listen to music and sketch in peace. So imagine his surprise when some of the most popular kids in school want to be around him! They heard him singing along with his music and were immediately entranced. One of them in particular has his eyes set on him. Though, they are not the only ones who have an interest in Y/N.

A/N; Hello, my little Otaku's! Welcome to my first fic! I hope you enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated! Just be kind! I'm sorry if it seems at all rushed! On my next stories I do plan on switching PoV's so it'll be easier to write and more entertaining. Enjoy!

"Who are they?"a dark haired girl asked her friend that was sitting just across from their lunch table

"Those are some of the most popular people in school, the Cullen's. Not only are they hot as hell, but they're charming to boot! They do disappear for long periods of time, which gives them an air of mystery."

At the Cullen's table, they softly chuckled at the description the new girl was given. After all, it's only natural considering what they are. They are a being talked about in many fantasy tales. Known for their taste for blood. Vampires, a creature of the night that feasts on humans. However, they in particular don't drink human blood

They went back to softly talking to each other, but a few minutes later something caught their attention. A soft voice echoed in their eardrums. It was enchanting and beautiful, it was like nothing they've ever heard of. They all simultaneously started looking around for the source of the pleasant sound when the new girl asked about someone else.

"Who is that?" she asked, pointing to a table where a boy sat by himself

"Oh! That's (Y/N), (L/N)! He doesn't talk much, but when he does, you can't help but feel so tranquil and at peace!"

That caught the vampire's attention, and they whipped their heads to where the brunette was pointing. Noticing that that was where the sound is coming from.

"What do you mean?"

"His voice is so soft, like silk! But it has a sort of firmness to it! That's not the only thing, though. He is so kind, adorable, and smart as well! He even helps who ask for him to tutor them. His personality makes everyone want to be around him!"

That rose some questions in the vampires heads. If he is that well-liked, why is no one sitting near him?

"Then why is he alone?"

~The vampires will have to thank the new girl for asking so many questions~

"Well, whenever people come near him, he gets anxious and tries to get away as soon as possible. Someone grabbed him on accident, and he started having a panic attack, falling to the ground, and hyperventilating."

The Cullen's were a little shocked when they heard this. That wasn't normal for sure

"Holy shit. Was he okay?"

"Yeah, he was sent home early. But, some students saw his face as he was leaving and said that he looked terrified. We think something is going on where he lives, though we can't know for sure" she shrugged

"Once he came to school the next day, he was wearing long-sleeves. I thought it was weird considering he never wore them before, but the rest of the school shrugged it off as it being in the winter months making it reasonable. The person apologized the next day and (Y/N) just said it was fine, and he just likes being alone, so now that's what we do"

Right when the girl finished, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Making everyone get up and start to throw away their trash and head to class. All except one person...

"I don't think he heard the bell" Emmett said

"Gee, none of us would've guessed!" Rosalie responded, causing the other Cullen's to chuckle

Suddenly, Jasper's sight shifted to his wife Alice because he felt her stiffening up, a tell-tale sign of her power activating. The other vampires looked at her as well, waiting for her to relay what she saw. After a little bit she came to and, slowly, turned to Emmett grinning

"Emmett, why don't you go over and tell him class is about to start? Maybe even ask him to tutor you! We all know you need it." she remarked, still grinning

Starting to understand why she was acting like the way she was, Emmett sighed, wanting to protest, but he knew Alice's visions almost always came true, or they would end at the same conclusion.

He made his way over to where the boy was sitting

"Remember not to grab him!" Alice semi-shouted from where she was standing

Emmett waved her off, still approaching (Y/N)

He gently tapped (Y/N)'s shoulder, making the smaller boy jump in surprise and what Emmett can only assume is fear

(Y/N) turned his head around fast enough to give him whiplash and that's when he met the golden eyes of the person that startled him

He took his earbud out before speaking, "I-Is there s-something I can do for you?" (Y/N) asked shakily

Emmett stood there for a moment. He had never seen someone so hot and cute at the same time. The girl was right, too. His voice is the embodiment of angelic. Emmett took this chance to take in all the boys features, from his soft (S/C) skin that reflected the light of the cafeteria. To his intoxicating (E/C) eyes that he could get lost in over and over again. Emmett felt a small pull to (Y/N), and he knew exactly what it meant.

“H-hello? Are you alright?” (Y/N) asked

“I-I um…class is about to start…”

(Y/N) looked at the time and blushed

“So it is…” (Y/N) stood up and started collecting his things “T-thanks for letting me know” (Y/N) stood to leave but was stopped as Emmett stood in front of him

“I was wondering if you could help me study for chemistry? I’m currently failing” Emmett chuckled, rubbing the back of his head

"I-I don't mind, where should we meet?"

"How about the Library after school?"

(Y/N) smiled the slightest bit "Sounds good, now if you don't mind I need to get to class" and with that (Y/N) left the cafeteria heading to his next class. Emmett slowly rejoined his family, still in awe from the recent interaction.

Jasper grinned from the emotions Emmett was emulating

"It seems Emmett is very interested in that guy"

"Hell yeah I am! Did you see him?!"

"We did" Edward answered him, "But"

"But what?" Emmett asked

"I can't read his mind, same with the new girl"

"Does that mean they're a supernatural?" Rosalie asked

"No, they aren't. The new girl is a weird case, but (Y/N) seems to just have fantastic mental walls and barriers. Which is concerning..."

"Then I'll have to break them" Emmett smirked

The rest of the Cullen's let out a collective sigh as they made their way to their respective classes. Still wondering what was going on with the mysterious (Y/N).

The final bell rang, indicating the end of the school day. Students started to funnel out of their classes and into the hallways. Emmett was waiting outside (Y/N)'s classroom, ready to head to the library.

After waiting awhile of waiting, (Y/N) came out of the classroom books and binder in hand

"Hey"

(Y/N) jumped and turned around to see Emmett, a look of relief claimed his face

"You ready to go?"

"Y-yeah"

As they made their way to the library, they made some just talked about their interests and things of that nature, eventually arriving at their destination. After they settled in their seats with the necessary books, they started the study session.

Emmett found it cute, they way (Y/N) would nervously try and help him understand the complex formula's and equations. After a few explanations, (Y/N) sat down and started to work on his homework. Unconsciously, (Y/N) started to sing to himself, making Emmett perk up and look at him.

"You're a good singer"

(Y/N) blushed, "Thanks...but others don't think so..."

"Are you kidding me?!" Emmett stood up, causing (Y/N) to jump a little, "Your voice is amazing!"

(Y/N) blushed at the praise he was given. He'd never been complimented before, so this was new to him.

"Thank you" (Y/N) smiled, making Emmett's cold and dead heart swell with something he's never felt before

"N-no problem" Emmett said before sitting down, and starting to work again, still thinking of that cute-ass smile

Soon, the sun started to set and that was their cue to wrap things up.

"Could you tutor me again tomorrow? If you're free, that is" Emmett asked

"Sure, I should be open. Meet here after school?"

"Deal"

"Then I'll see you tomorrow" (Y/N) smiled at Emmett before walking to his place

To say Emmett was giddy is an understatement. He was over the moon. Not only did he get to be tutored by his adorable mate, but he also got him to open up and be more relaxed around him! He made his way back to his own house and entered with his head still stuck in the clouds. Unaware of the fact that the whole family was sitting in the living room

"It seems that Emmett had an amazing time" Jasper couldn't help but let out his own smile from Emmett's emotions

"Something good happen, Emmett?" Carlisle asked, intrigued by Jasper's comment

"I think he's the one"

"The One?" Esme questioned

Alice snickered, clearly happy that her vision seemed to have came true

"My mate" Emmett replied, still thinking about the fun time he had studying with (Y/N)

"Congrats!! But, make sure you claim him before anyone else!" Esme explained

"He's not an object, Esme" Carlisle chastised

"I know, but humans may not understand their feelings"

"I just have to take things slow. I don't want to scare him off"

~Next Day at School~

"Hey (Y/N)!"

"Hmm? Oh, hey Emmett!" (Y/N) smiled sweetly

As Emmett got closer to (Y/N) he noticed a very distinct smell coming from the boy. "(Y/N) are you alright?" he asked concern lacing his voice

(Y/N) visibly tensed and started to shake slightly. "U-um ye-yeah? I'm f-fine"

Emmett was less than convinced. He needed to know who or what hurt his mate, so he could end it's pitiful existence, then and there. Though, he decided not to add anymore fuel to the fire...yet.

"If you say so. We should head to to class"

"Yeah"

"Are we still on for tonight?"

"If you still want to, then yes" (Y/N) smiled at Emmett causing him to absolutely gush at his adorableness

"Yep! Totally!" (Y/N) chuckled at Emmett's response

While heading to class they just talked about whatever was on their minds. Well, mostly Emmett since (Y/N) is a closed off little bean <3. But, that didn't stop either of them from enjoying themselves. Even once they where in class they softly whispered to each other. Their teacher didn't care much because (Y/N) is a model student and Emmett is a popular kid (you know those teachers that try and get in with the cool kids? Yeah, that's their teacher). When they went their seperate way's for their second block (Y/N) though that was it, like all of the other people he's tutored. He just thought Emmett was being kind and he'd see him after school for their study session. But he was proven wrong at lunchtime.

(Y/N) was eating by himself at a table listening to music and singing along softly when he felt vibrations coming from next to him. He looked over to not only see Emmett, but the whole Cullen entourage in tow. He was shocked to say the very least.

"Can we sit here?"

Collecting himself he responded with a soft "Yeah". The Cullen's then sat down, Emmett sitting on your right and Alice on your left. She squealed and looked twoards you "I've wanted to actually talk to you for a while now! Emmett talks about you and your singing too! I hope I can hear you one day!" This, this was how (Y/N).exe has stopped working. You where an embarassed blushing mess while looking at Emmett in mock betrayal. 'He talks about me?' you thought. He just smirked enjoying your cuteness.

"Ahh!!! He's soo adorable!!" Now you were a even darker red. Only provoking Alice more as she got slightly closer to you. You were about to curl in on yourself when you felt that you were being griped by the waist and pulled into a solid chest.

"Alice, your going to make him explode" Emmett said slightly, just slightly defensive

She laughed "My my what about you then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look down, bonehead" Rosalie butted in amused

Emmett did what she said and saw you an absolute wreck. If a cherry was a person it would be you at this point-

Now he was trying to compose himself. The sight of both of you made everyone at the table start chuckling. After that whole fiasco you got to know Emmett's family and started to enjoy their presence. Something you never really had the pleasure of experiencing...

Over the next few weeks, Emmett did everything he could to be even remotely close to (Y/N). They would do studying sessions at the library, and after they would get something to eat. Well, only (Y/N) did. He thought it was weird Emmett never ate anything, but Emmett assured (Y/N) that he was eating well. They would often go to parks and just have fun too. However, all fun things come to an end. When one day (Y/N) didn't show up to school. Emmett just thought (Y/N) got a cold, but soon days turned to weeks and he was getting worried. He didn't know where (Y/N) lived so he couldn't go to his house and see if he was alright, but one day Carlise came home a little later than usual which was not unnoticed by his family.

"You're back late" Esme commented

"Well there is a teenager in critical condition. He came in with severe lacerations all over his body and what seemed to be marks of repeated tramua as well. He came in a couple of weeks ago and was in a coma until he flatlined earlier this morning" Carlise took off his doctor coat and placed it on the chair making his way to Esme. As he stood next to her he looked over to see his "children" with wide eyes

"Is something wrong?" Carlise asked a bit worried

"When did that patient come into the hospital?" Emmett asked urgently

"(Date). Why?"

With that all of the vampires stood up and started to get ready to go to the hospital

"What's wrong? Where are you guys going?" Esme asked

"That's most likely my mate" Emmett replied, making it clear he was irritated

"Well then what are we waiting for?" Esme rushed everyone out the door and to the hospital

At the hospital, they made their way to the room (Y/N) was at. Once there, Carlisle motioned for Emmett to enter first. Emmett went in and was shocked by what he saw. (Y/N) had many tubes attached to him. His body was wrapped in bandages and his breathing was hitching. Emmett walked over to the resting (Y/N) and reached out for his hand, grasping it softly. He rubbed his thumb over the boy's knuckles in a reassuring manner, then sat down next to the bed, still holding (Y/N)'s hand. He could only think about how much he failed his mate. How could he let this happen? He knew there was something going on, but he did nothing? He turned a blind eye to it all. How can he face (Y/N) when he wakes up? Emmett's thoughts were interrupted by someone's voice

"Who are you?"

"I should be asking you that" Emmett replied

"I'm (Y/N)'s boyfriend"

With that, Emmett's world stopped. Boyfriend? How? Why? Was I to late? Emmett turned to (Y/N) conflicted, but that's when he saw the heart monitor. His heart rate was not that high a while ago.

"Can you leave me with my boyfriend?" (B/F/N) asked harshly

Emmett reluctantly stood up and made his way to the door, but not before taking one last look at (Y/N). Once he was out of the room, Emmett started walking down the hallway back to his family.

"Who was that guy that went in there?" Rosalie went up to Emmett

"Apparently, he's (Y/N)'s boyfriend"

The Cullen's looked at Emmett in sadness and pity, but they noticed something

"You don't seem that bothered about it" Jasper said

"Well, before he came in, (Y/N)'s heart rate was normal, but when he spoke his heart rate rose"

"So, you think-"

"Yeah, his 'boyfriend' must've done that to him"

"That's awful" Esme covered her mouth in shock

"We can't really do anything if we don't have proof though" Alice said irritated

"Then we'll just have to get some" Emmett smirked, making the other Cullen's nod

They made their plan's and put them on hold until you were sent home. In the meantime, Emmett came to visit whenever your 'boyfriend' was never there and if he was, Carlisle was keeping a closer eye on you than normal. He also noticed that (B/F/N) would only ever sit in the chair across the room and when he would glance at you a look of disgust would be present on his face. This further solidified his resolve to get you out of that situation.

~A few days later while Emmett is visiting you~

"We're going to help you (Y/N), Everything will be better soon" Emmett reassured the sleeping male whilst holding his hand. He then felt (Y/N) clench his hand and looked up to see those beautiful (E/C) orbs opening

"Em-"

"Shh, don't strain yourself yet" Emmett stood up and pressed the 'call' button just above (Y/N)'s head before sitting back down

"Where-"

"The hospital...can you tell me what happened to you?"

After a brief pause, (Y/N) shook his ever so slightly

"That's fine, just tell me when you're ready" Emmett smiled sweetly. He saw (Y/N)'s face contort into sadness as he started crying. "I-I'm sorry f-for worrying you" (Y/N) choked out between sobs. Emmett couldn't see him cry like this, so he started to comfort and reassure the other male. "You'll be okay...I won't let you get hurt anymore..."

A/N: I really hope you liked it! Please tell me your thoughts! Sorry it took way longer than I said! I will now be working on the requests I have gotten and a new series I've conjured up ;)By my little Otaku's!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨1

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Yay, mob Clark. And I know what you’re saying right now, enough with Clark Kent! I get it haha. Promise, for a while, this will be the last I do of him. I have Lee fic in the work right now, the early development of medieval Peter, and I’m still sitting on some Loki ft. an exchange student... and then all my other series of course!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stood against the wall, chewing your lip as you looked around the gallery. You should be ecstatic, you should be floating around on a cloud, but all you could feel was crushing anxiety. It was truly a dream come true; your art hanging on the wall. Only three pieces, but it was there, and your name was below it in print.

You tugged on the waist of your dress and teetered in your heels. It was a borrowed outfit, you couldn’t afford anything appropriate to the upscale venue. The classic starving artist, or almost. You slipped your phone from your purse and up your sleeve. You subtly checked the time and for the little chat icon in the corner. Still no message.

Marcus was almost an hour late. He texted just after the event opened to warn you he was caught up with work but you worried he wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass but you weren’t prepared to face this alone. You dropped your phone back into your slender purse and snapped it shut.

Vanessa, the gallery owner, made you flinch as she appeared almost out of the air. You smiled at her shyly and stopped chewing your lip.

“You should mingle,” she said, “you have an interested buyer. You might have a few more if you come out from the corner.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so nervous,” you confessed, “I-- thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“You earned it,” she touched your arm daintily, “all those hard hours working the back room, I couldn’t not hang a few pieces.”

You fixed your posture and tried to seem as confident as her. Your income came solely from hours of at-home data entry as you volunteered at the gallery in your few hours between. It was all worth it and maybe if you sold something tonight, Vanessa would feature you work again and you wouldn’t need to spend the bulk of your days staring at tiny font.

“So, where’s this buyer?” you asked hopefully.

“That’s my girl,” Vanessa trilled, “he seems very interested.”

She led you across the room, stopping to greet other artists and old friends with a kiss on the cheek and deep laughter. You’d met them all before as you were often working at these events. It was your first time as one of them.

When at last you neared your little stretch of the wall, a man stood with his head slightly back as he stared at your proto-renaissance portraits. He was tall and his broad shoulders strained the rich fabric of his jacket. His dark hair was neatly parted and a slight curl marked the front above the shadow of scruff poking out along his jawline.

“Mr. Kent,” Vanessa chimed, “I found her.”

He turned to look at you and his deep blue eyes struck you. He smiled between you and the gallery owner, his chiseled jaw even more defined by the gesture.

“This is Mr. Kent,” she introduced you in turn, “I believe he was interested in the larger piece.”

“All three, if you don’t have another buyer lined up,” he intoned, “I think they belong together.”

“All of them?” you raised your brows, “well, I, yeah, I guess--”

“We can put something together for you,” Vanessa interrupted your awkward stuttering, “let me just mark them.”

She took the silver pen she kept on a chain around her wrist and scribbled in the corner of the tags to mark them as sold. You were slightly numb at your disbelief. You were a bit reluctant to part with your work but the check would ease your grief.

“The way you use colours,” he said as he faced the paintings again, “I’ve recently had some work done in my house and I hate the sight of naked walls.”

“Thank you,” you said as you stepped a little closer and looked at your delicate strokes.

“Pardon me,” Vanessa rushed away as she beckoned to one of her assistants and prattled orders.

“Vanessa tells me you’re a new artist,” he said.

“New in a sense,” you said, “I guess, I’m officially an artist now.”

“Oh? I’m flattered. Your first buyer?”

“Besides some online fanart, yeah,” you replied, “so, Mr. Kent, what do you do?”

“Clark,” he corrected, “and a little bit of everything.”

An awkward silence took over and was thankfully interrupted by your name. You turned as Marcus rushed over and his shoes slipped on the polished floor. He reached you and kissed your cheek as he caught his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I got caught in traffic on the way over and then my oil light started flashing,” he gasped out.

“Hey, you’re here,” you rubbed his shoulder and straightened his tie without thinking as it hung at an angle.

“So, you sell anything yet?” he asked.

“Yes, actually, um, Mr-- Clark,” you gestured to the man standing patiently to the side, “he just bought all three.”

“Damn,” Marcus said, “guess I can hold onto my savings.”

“Marc,” you nudged his arm with your knuckles, “you know we can’t afford your cheesiness.”

“Sorry, uh,” Marcus laughed at himself, “I’m Marcus.”

He held out his hand and Clark shook it. His eyes strayed to you as his features sharpened just a little.

“You two…?” he ventured.

“Five years,” Marcus announced, “guess we’re going steady.”

“Oh,” Clark nodded placidly, “are you an artist too?”

“God no, I can hardly write my own name legibly,” Marcus kidded, “I’m a developer.”

“Computers,” Clark mused.

“Yeah, computers,” Marcus scoffed, “and you?”

“Own a couple businesses,” Clark shrugged.

“Must be successful if you can hang around here,” Marcus said and you elbowed him in embarrassment.

“I guess,” Clark smoothed his dark purple jacket and checked his watch, “I’ll let you two be. Maybe I’ll find something to go with these fine pieces.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, “I’m happy to see my work go to a good home.”

“I hope to see more in future,” he returned kindly.

He turned and carried on to the statue constructed of can tabs and greeted another suited man. You looked at Marcus as he leaned in to read the tags beneath your paintings. He stood and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, ten grand?” he hissed.

“Pretty good pay for one night,” you chirped, “glad you could make it.”

“Sorry again, I… I had to redo some code. Adam was in a mood so,” he shook his head and sighed, “let’s not talk about it. Let’s celebrate.” He peeked over at the server with a tray of stemmed flutes, “and you can decide what you’re going to buy me with that check.”

“Hush,” you chided as you took a glass of champagne, “now is not the time to go over bills.”

🎨

At the end of the night, you watched one of the assistants take down your canvas and you helped wrap them in paper and twine. As you finished a loopy knot, you were surprised by the figure beside you. You looked up and set the smallest piece atop the larger ones. Clark smiled as you moved to let him pick them up.

“All yours,” you said, almost mournful to see them go.

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked them easily under his thick arm, “I forgot earlier but do you have a card? Are you open for commissions?”

“You must have a lot of walls,” you looked down and opened your purse, “I have a card and I could try a commission.”

You slid out one of the cards that had lingered in your wallet for more than a year. You handed it to him and he read the flowery font before tucking it away in his jacket.

“I do… have a lot of walls,” he said with a smirk, “I’ll give you a call once these are hung.”

“O-okay,” you kept from wringing your hands and closed your purse, “thank you… again.”

“My pleasure,” assured, “have a good night.”

“Yeah, good night,” you said and watched him go.

You let out a breath and smiled to yourself. You would talk to Vanessa and get your cut of the check before you went. Then you could worry about getting Marcus home. He’d had a little too much champagne and you’d left him in the backroom so you could help with the clean-up.

Vanessa bid goodbye to one of her featured artists as you neared. She turned to you and threw up her hands in delight.

“Wonderful, darling,” she said, “you earned that wall.”

“Thanks,” you grinned bashfully.

“Really. That man has never bought a piece before,” she smirked, “I’ve been dying to get into his wallet for years.”

“I never saw him before…”

“Oh, well, yes, he has not been to many of these either. I often see him at other galleries,” she explained, “I hope you have some more for the next.”

“Um, yeah, I should be able to--”

“I’ll have the check for you tomorrow,” she patted your shoulder as her eye was caught by another, “go get your boyfriend out of my studio.”

You accepted your dismissal and turned on your heel. That was just Vanessa, steely but slightly flighty as well. Besides, you were exhausted and you would likely be dragging Marcus into a cab.

You found him slumped at the paint-splattered table. You shook him awake and smiled dopily as he opened his eyes.

“Babe,” he pushed his arm around you.

“Marcus,” you drawled in disappointment, “let’s get out of here.”

“Huh?” He looked around and hiccupped, “oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You had a long day,” you assured him as you rubbed his back and let him lean on you as he stood, “I’m just happy you showed up after all that nonsense.”

“Of course, babe,” he slurred and you helped him through the door.

You kept your head down as you slowly sneaked out past Vanessa but you didn’t miss her side-eye. It was best to be as covert as possible. You came out through the door and nearly dropped Marcus.

“Jesus, can I get a little help?” you snipped as you looked around for a yellow cab.

“Sorry, baby, sorry,” he got his feet flat but it hardly helped take his weight off of you.

You raised your hand to hail a cab and he slipped down your arm. Your ankle bent as you turned to try to catch him before you dropped him entirely. He was saved from hitting the ground as he was caught by another. You looked over his head as he was pushed up to his feet again. 

Clark kept his arm behind Marcus as you stared at him, “oh my god, thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he steadied your boyfriend, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you lifted your foot and kept the weight off your ankle, “I just need to get a taxi.” You raised your hand again as you tried to see past the large man, “if you don’t mind getting him in--”

“You can ride with me,” he said brusquely as he turned with Marcus and peered back at you, “this way.”

“We can’t--”

“On that ankle,” he said as you began to limp after him, “you won’t get him out on your own.”

“Really, I’m fine--”

“I don’t mind,” he said coolly as he came to a silver sports car and balanced Marcus against him as he opened the door, “I’ll need an address.”

“Uh, oh,” you folded your hands, “thank you. Really, you’ve done too much.”

“It happens. I’ve had these nights,” he put Marcus across the seat and folded his legs up and shut the door, “you can take the front and tell me where I’m going.”

You hesitated and he opened the front door. You neared and hissed as you stumbled on your ankle. You caught yourself on his arm and quickly retracted your hand as you apologized. 

“It’s alright,” he said as you sat in the front seat. He knelt and gently took your ankle. His thumb rubbed the swollen joint, “you really banged yourself up.”

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him, “thanks.”

He let go and stood. He waited for you to turn your legs into the car and gently closed the door. He rounded to the other side and got in as he fished around for his keys. He turned the engine and gripped the wheel with one hand as he took out his phone. He placed it on the magnetic holder and his fingers flicked over the screen.

“Address?” he asked.

You recited it and winced as Siri responded, ‘calculating route’. You shrunk against the luxury leather and glanced at him. He let out a huff and steered into the mostly empty street.

“I’m sorry about all this--”

“No, don’t be,” he glanced in the rearview, “he must be happy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, I think he is,” you said as he followed the map directions, “I am too. I mean, it will go along way… uh, well, you know, things can be tough or--” you shrugged, “I mean, it’s not about the money.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to be paid,” he said lightly, “and I don’t mind paying for good art.”

You looked out the window as your cheeks burned. You could smell his cologne, subtle but strong. You played with your purse as your nerves brewed in your chest. You watched the sidewalks and the street lights as your surroundings grew more familiar.

He pulled up to your building. It wasn’t the greatest area and the brick façade was faded and cracked. Before you could get out, he was at your door. He offered his hand and helped you out as you leaned on the car. He let you go and opened the back and lifted Marcus out. He hooked your boyfriend’s arm over his shoulder and offered his other arm.

“Come on,” he said.

“Look, you don’t-- there’s an elevator.”

“I’d feel better if I got you inside,” he insisted, “especially in this area.”

You relented and took his arm and limped beside him up the steps. You took out your keys and went ahead of him as he dragged Marcus in. You went to the elevator and hit the button. The doors glided open and you stepped inside. He stood close in the small metal box and Marcus murmured dumbly at his side.

The doors dinged and he let you out first. He followed you down the hall and you unlocked your apartment and waved him inside. He carried Marcus to the couch at your direction and you leaned against the armchair as you bent your leg to check your ankle.

“You should put some ice on that,” Clark said as he neared, “get some sleep yourself.”

“Yeah, I will,” you assured, “thank you, again.”

You felt embarrassed as you eyed his expensive suit and looked around your tiny apartment. It must have been laughable to him. He hardly seem bothered as he retreated to the door.

“I’ll let you then,” he said, “and thank you. I really do like your work.”

The door shut in his stead and you heard his footsteps down the long hall until the door at the end swung open. You glanced at Marcus and shook your head. You weren’t as happy to have had him at the show then.

[metalbuckaroo]

Tattoo

Summary: After losing a bet, Bucky gives you a tattoo of his choice (part of the SP backstory one-shots but can be read on its own)

Warnings: Smut, car sex, tobacco use, mention of alcohol consumption, light praise kink and hair pulling, cursing, tattoo needle (if thatd be considered a warning)

AU: Beefy Biker Bucky x Fem Reader

AN: again; no clue what this is, felt the need to write something but brain wasn't working. Requests are always open, reblogs and feedback appreciated!

SWEET PEA MASTERLIST

You were stood outside Steve's small, semi-secluded tattoo shop with Bucky while he smoked his cigarette, the dark parking lot barely lit up with a single pole light.

Sam was inside getting his tattoo finished before the four of you started drinking for your birthday. "Bet you he cries like a baby again." You told Bucky as he took a drag from his cigarette.

His lips curled into a smirk, exhaling the smoke through his nose. "What're you wanting to bet on it?"

"If he doesn't make it through the whole thing you have to get a nipple piercing." You said, giving him a wide smile and stuffing your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket.

He flicked his cigarette to the concrete and stepped closer to you, his hands going to your hips. "And if he does, you have to let me give you a tattoo, of my choice."

You liked your chances with this one, Sam had ended up with a half finished tattoo last week because he backed out.

"Deal, now come on, its cold." You laced his fingers with yours and tried to walk backwards, Bucky pulling you back to him. "Gotta couple ways we could fix that." He teased, making you roll your eyes at him.

"Not right now, Buck." You laughed, pulling him by his metal thumb with you to the backdoor of the shop.

Bucky walked to where Steve was switching needles on his tattoo gun and leaned to talk to him, Steve chuckling lowly and shaking his head. "You two are ridiculous."

"What? Tell me you didn't have sex in my car." Sam said craning his head to look at you and Bucky.

A smug look crept on Bucky's face as he sat on the couch on the other side of the counter and pulled you into his lap. "Just don't flake out on your tattoo." He shrugged, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Steve was nearly done with Sam's tattoo and you were getting nervous, he still hadn't backed out of it, meaning you would lose the bet.

The sound of the tattoo gun stopped and Steve stood, pulling the latex gloves off. "Well, looks like Buck won." He chuckled.

You exhaled and looked at Bucky who was smirking at you, heavy hand resting on your thigh. "Knew I'd win. C'mon."

You put your hand on his chest to stop him from moving you. "Wait, wait-" He shook his head at you and gave a cheeky smile, showing his sparkling white teeth. "You lost the bet, sweet pea. Rules are rules."

You raised your eyebrows as he urged you to stand, his hands on your shoulders to guide you towards the tattoo chair that Steve was cleaning off. "You're playing by the rules now? Well, in that case-"

He cut you off with a kiss to your cheek, leaning to talk in your ear. "I make the rules, baby. You know that." His low voice sent a tingle down your back as he nudged you to sit.

Once everything was set up, Bucky had discarded his leather jacket on the counter, sitting in the stool as he put a pair of latex gloves on.

When Steve and Sam were out of view he lifted the front of your dress. "Hold this." He smirked, lifting the waistband of your underwear to uncover the spot between the top of your thigh and hipbone.

Pulling the fabric up, you let out a shaky breath, nerves getting the best of you from the thought of how many stupid things he could etch onto your skin.

"Don't do anything ridiculous." You told him, not getting an answer as he started.

It wasn't near as bad as you had expected and didn't take as long either, Bucky's focused face softening into a lazy smile when the tattoo gun went silent. "Perfect."

You lifted your head to glance down at the two words in his handwriting. Sweet Pea.

"That is so cheesy, Buck." You laughed as he placed the protective cream and plastic over it before giving your thigh a squeeze. "Suits you."

The bell on the door dinged before your friend Anya's voice sounded in the half lit shop.

"Out of all the places to have a tattoo shop, Steve picks the stupidest one. How does he even make money?" She huffed, sitting the case of beer down on the counter.

She looked at you as you stood from the chair and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, birthday girl. Already making stupid decisions."

_____

You hadn't even made it through one beer and Bucky was being relentless with teasing touches. A hand brushed against your ass, brief kisses to your neck, and filthy whispers in your ear, earning a reminder of Steve's rule.

No sex in his shop.

He had said something to Anya that made her roll his eyes at him and dig in her pocket for her keys, a devilish smirk on his face as he walked to you.

Pulling you by your waist with him out of Steve office, he pressed a supple kiss to your lips. "Time for your birthday gift, pretty girl."

Two orgasms in and he wasn't letting up, his lips covering yours to keep your moans and whimpers muffled, middle and ring finger knuckle deep between your folds as you pumped his dick at the pace he thrusted his fingers.

He pressed his thumb to your clit and your movement stopped, tilting your head back and gritting your teeth together to try to keep quiet as the third orgasm seared it way through you.

The air in the car was thick, windows fogged to the point you couldn't see through them and Bucky's broad body took up a lot of the room as his body bent over yours.

"Open your eyes, sugar. Not done yet." He hummed, placing wet kisses along what was exposed of your chest. "You can take one more. Can't you, sweet pea?"

You nodded and gripped onto the back of his hair, letting out a strained moan as he slipped into you, his hips snapping forward with a low groan.

The suspension of the car squeaked with the force of his thrusts, hushed moans and whimpers filling the air.

Your head was swimming with the filthy praises that spilled front Bucky's lips, his dark hair shielding his face, metal hand gripping your outer thigh and other hand holding his weight off of you beside your head.

"Holy shit, J.B." You mewl, bucking your hips to meet his pace.

He looked at you through hooded eyes, lip bit between your teeth as you clawed his hip and tugged at the back of his hair, thin layer of sweat adding a shine to your skin. "Look so good under me, sugar."

"So close," you whimpered, grip on his hair tightening slightly to elicit a guttural moan from his throat.

Bucky angled his hips to thrust into your g-spot, a breathy cry passing through your lips. "C'mon, Sugar. Be a good girl and make a mess on my cock, wanna feel you clench around me."

Tears burned your eyes as heat coursed through you again, goosebumps prickling your skin with a cry of his name that was muffled by his tongue slipping into your open mouth.

He spilled into you, moaning into your mouth with the slowing thrusts.

His forehead leaned against your, stomachs brushing with each labored breath. "Fuck, sweet pea. You've ruined anyone else for me."

[ltleflrt]

Hey Carrie! You talked a little the other day about writers' tendency to start a fic too early in the story, and how you see a lot of first scenes that could have been scrapped to improve the story. My question is if you have some tips to recognize while writing that first scene that you are starting too early in the story?

Hello friend!

That's a really good question, and I'll see if I can give an answer that makes sense. I am not a professional, and I'm not educated or trained in this stuff, it's just something that I recognize from years and years and years of voracious reading. And as with all writing advice, I encourage you to take what I'm going to say with a grain of salt and remember that no writing rule is a hard rule, only a guideline.

Also, my advice is going to be pertaining fanfiction, and specifically to AUs. Obviously a published book has an editor with a razor blade going through a manuscript for you, and the problems that bother me in fanfiction crop up in AUs more than Canonverse.

Oh, and every instance of "you" is general, not specific 😜

So I think the main problem that I see is that people are starting with an Info Dump. An Info Dump is not always a bad thing, sometimes it's completely necessary, but it is NOT where you want to start your story. If it absolutely has to be done, it's better to be somewhere in the middle or near the end. When it's something that your characters need to know.

That's an important bit: Do your characters need to know this?

And related to that: Does your audience need to know this for the story to make sense?

And very important follow up: If the answers to the above questions are yes, does the character/audience need to know this RIGHT NOW?

There's a lot of information about your story that YOU need to know. Heck, my notes files are full of sooooooo much stuff that I know about the characters and plot that never reaches the final product.

So when you're reading your first chapter (I say reading, not writing, because sometimes info dumping for your own benefit is good, and then you fix it before you share the story lol), ask yourself those two questions.

So for example:

In an AU where Dean is a tattoo artist, and it's his POV. The story starts with Dean driving to work, and when he gets there he's going to find out that the empty shop next door has been purchased and is going to be a yoga studio. He meets Castiel out front, up on a ladder trying to hang a hand painted sign, and some teens go running buy and knock into the ladder and Dean has to catch Castiel from falling. (Anyone who wants to adopt this idea is welcome to it btw, I would love to read this lol)

The mistake I often see in a first chapter like this is that as Dean is walking to work, there's a whole Info Dump about why he's a tattoo artist instead of a hunter. He'll be ambling along, thinking about his nice little business, and there's info about how his mom died in a fire, and his dad was a jerk, and Dean didn't go to college because he saved his money for Sammy's college fund, and Dean's only passion was art, and Bobby Singer introduced him to a tattoo shop owner who took Dean under his wing, etc.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: Why is Dean reflecting on his past? Does Castiel need to know this information in order to build a romance with Dean?

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Why does this information matter? If Dean's only reflecting on this because you want to make sure your audience knows where the timeline changed and this became an AU, then you're starting too early in your story. Dean doesn't need to know this, and honestly in a lot of cases the reader doesn't need to know this. This is information that should have been left in your notes file.

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: If this information is pertinent to the plot, like maybe there's some trauma there that Castiel might need to know about to develop their relationship, then you don't want to put it HERE, you want to put it in a conversation with Castiel LATER.

If I was writing this AU, I would just start with Dean sipping his coffee, he's kinda tired because reasons, he looks up to see an unusual commotion, and has to drop his coffee and sprint forward to catch Cas. If he's reflecting on anything in this scene, it's going to be whatever made him tired, or how good/bad the coffee is this morning. Since Cas is a new business owner, they can talk about the origins of Dean's business on their first date, because it'll be a relevant response to Castiel talking about the origins of his yoga studio.

And just in general, if Dean's origin story includes a lot of canon elements, like mom dying in a fire, dad being a deadbeat, Sammy being the adorable overachieving Stanford student.... try to hide that info for as long as you can so that the audience is actually curious about it by the time the info might pop up. It's the wild divergences that are more interesting earlier on.

Okay, and then I want to talk about my giant pet peeve for a starting chapter. It's a specific kind of info dump, that often includes the stuff from above, but then goes a step further.

My nemesis, The Daily Grind.

I haven't asked the authors, so I could be wrong about this, but I feel like most of the time when this type of chapter is included in a story it is because the author wants to show the reader that the character's life is boring and meaningless before the plot's inciting incident. I can absolutely see why that might be considered an important detail about the character, but keep in mind if it's boring and meaningless to the character, it's boring and meaningless to your audience.

You know how I said earlier that writing tips should never be hard and fast rules? Well this is in regards to that Show Don't Tell rule, and it's an example of TOO MUCH showing lol

It is possible to do a daily grind in an interesting way, but only if you include a Shake Up right away. And you have to look at the 3 questions a little bit differently.

So for example:

Castiel POV, and he works in an office. His daily routine is to always get up at the same time every day, he goes for his run, he grooms himself, he has his breakfast, he goes to work and talks to Kelly about how Jack's doing in kindergarten for a few minutes before going into his office. Adler comes in to be a prick, Castiel hates him for it, and then he does his reports, has lunch hiding in a corner of the lunch room so that his co-workers will leave him alone, he does more reporting, leaves an hour after his shift technically ends, goes home to a lonely apartment that maybe includes a pet who is the only being that shows him affection, has an unsatisfying dinner of leftover takeout while watching a mindless reality tv show, then he goes to bed.

Ugh.

BORING.

Which, yeah I get it, the point is that his life is boring. But now the story is too, and I've clicked the back button before I can see how exciting it's capable of getting.

Question 1, does your character need to know this?: No. He knows. Poor thing definitely already knows.

Question 2, does your audience need to know this?: Yes, but...

Question 3, does the character/audience need to know this NOW?: Yes, but new question for ya:

Optional Question 4, why does this need to be separate from your plot's inciting incident? The answer to this 4th question is usually that it doesn't.

Chapter 2 of this type of beginning usually shows the shake up of Castiel's day. My advice is to start with the shakeup, and sprinkle in the details of what you would have put into chapter 1 to show the contrast. It's far more interesting to learn how boring Castiel's day is by starting with the shake up.

So, same scenario:

Castiel's alarm doesn't go off for some reason, OH NO HIS ROUTINE IS SHAKEN UP! You're explaining his routine while also stressing him the fuck out because he has to rush, or skip something that he normally needs to do. Action! Interesting! He gets to work late, and has to miss his conversation with Kelly about Jack because she's telling him that Adler's already in his office being a prick because Castiel isn't there waiting for him like he always is. Oh shit, he's pissing off his asshole boss! Conflict! He's so flustered by the shakeups that he misses something on his report, and he gets a call from that new marketing guy Dean Winchester who asks if they can have a meeting about it when Castiel normally takes his lunch. BAM! MEET CUTE OPPORTUNITY! While Castiel is getting all flustered by how pretty Dean is while they talk about TPS reports, he can reflect on how this is both better and worse than hiding from his co-workers in the corner of the lunch room. The rest of the day after that meeting he's thinking about how weird this day is, he still goes home an hour late, he talks to his pet about his weird day when he gets home, and maybe he still eats leftover takeout, but he's not paying attention to the reality tv show because holy shit he wants to count Dean's freckles.

In this example, you're Telling the audience about Castiel's normal routine instead of Showing them. But since it's during a plot heavy chapter, it works!

Lemme see if I can TL:DR this...

As you're reading, ask yourself who needs to know this information, why do they need to know this information, and why is it important for this information to be included early instead of later?

If the answer to any of those questions boils down to "this is backstory" instead of "this kicks off the plot", then you've started too early.

I hope this helps? I'm always nervous about giving writing advice because so much of the time I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm just feeling around in the dark. And I definitely do not ever want to hurt an author's feelings, because this hobby is so fucking hard, and we're all fragile. Even authors who welcome con-crit with open arms will have a weak point that they're unaware of that might get poked wrong and cause a crack, ya know?

I hope anyone who gets this far who might see their own works reflected in my examples understands that I have a lot of respect for their ability to put their work out into the world, and I want them to keep doing it. We're here to have fun, okay? Okay. I love y'all 💜