#I also wrote this in two days so if there’s mistakes or the pacing sucks also shhhh

[timeofjuly]

Trick or Heat

Summary: You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, laptop in front of you and trying to get a little work done before you’re pulled away for the evening, but you’ve written and rewritten the same sentence six times now, and each rephrasing is clumsier than the last. You just can’t focus. It’s like first date jitters, maybe, if the first date in question involved an hours-long, magically fuelled sex-fest that’s been scribbled in underneath October 31st ever since the calendar was purchased. You feel hot (ha) at the very thought of it. Whether it’s a sexy hot or a nervous, sweaty hot remains to be seen.

Sans' first heat with you happens to fall on Halloween. Missing out on trick-or-treating, you find, is a worthwhile trade-off.

Notes: Merry Halloween lmao here's 5k of horrortale sans/reader porn with feelings

Tags: NSFW!!!! Smut with feelings, heat cycles, established relationship, fluff, oral sex, unrealistically enjoyable shower sex, face-sitting, multiple orgasms, size kink, reader has a vagina.

Read it on AO3 or read it below the cut!

Before moving in with your boyfriend and his brother, you didn’t use a physical calendar. You never felt the need to; your phone kept track of your various appointments and commitments and why bother pencilling in haircut at 11am when you’d get a reminder text from the salon the day before anyway?

That fast-and-loose attitude served you well when you were single, but these days, a calendar sits smack-dab in the middle of your fridge. Sans’ occupational therapist had been the one to suggest it; she’d rightly pointed out that leaving sticky notes for himself around the house isn’t a very effective memory aid, considering that he’s prone to forgetting about the notes themselves.

Sans had been less resistant to the idea than he’d been to the other mnemonics the OT had suggested, and so the refrigerator calendar had gone up. It wouldn’t be out of place in the home of a WASP mom of four; Live, Laugh, Love is proudly proclaimed in flowy script at the top of each page and the image for each month is themed in accordance of whatever holiday happens to fall in it. For March, there’d been a picture of a rabbit surrounded by colourful eggs with ‘Hoppy Easter, every bunny!’ written beneath it. For October, there’s a scowling cartoon woman, broomstick in tow, with a speech bubble saying, ‘this is my resting witch face’.

Sans, obviously, had been the one to pick it out. You’ve peeked ahead and you’re looking forward to watching him flip it over onto November tomorrow; the Thanksgiving-themed ‘Thankful, blessed, and mashed potato obsessed!’ spread will undoubtedly give him a laugh.

First, though, you need to get through tonight.

You’re not nervous, exactly, but what you’re feeling is too sharp to purely be called anticipation. The feeling flutters against your sternum, a lightness that sets your heart ticking just a little faster than normal.

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, laptop in front of you and trying to get a little work done before you’re pulled away for the evening, but you’ve written and rewritten the same sentence six times now, and each rephrasing is clumsier than the last. You just can’t focus.

It’s like first date jitters, maybe, if the first date in question involved an hours-long, magically fuelled sex-fest that’s been scribbled in underneath October 31st ever since the calendar had been purchased.

There are four things written underneath that date. The first, in your handwriting, is Halloween! and the second, also in your handwriting, is pay power bill (shit, you better do that now).

The third, in Papyrus’ handwriting and taking up almost all of the room, is PAPYRUS’ SPECTACULAR HALLOWEEN EXTRAVAGANZA!!!

Then, written at the bottom, so small that your eyes strain to read it, is heat.

You feel hot (ha) at the very thought of it. Whether it’s a sexy hot or a nervous, sweaty hot remains to be seen.

Either way, you feel like a virgin on prom night. All of the monsters in your life – even Papyrus, mortifyingly, who is the last person you want to talk to about your sex life – has assured you that you’ve got nothing to worry about, and you’re not, not really, save some lingering concerns about your stamina and your ability to walk tomorrow.

This is just new and new things are inherently a little scary, but you’re not going to let your irrational fear of failure ruin this for you. Not today, insecurities, not today.

Papyrus left for the Halloween festivities over an hour ago and Sans is napping on the living room couch – apparently tonight’ll take a lot out of him and it’s normal for monsters to sleep more than usual in the days preceding and following a heat. For Sans, who already dozes off at the drop of a hat, this means that this is his third nap of the day.

You close your laptop with a sigh, giving up the pretence of actually getting any work done. No point bullshitting yourself for any longer.

You decide that you’re going to have a long, hot shower. There’s some personal grooming you want to do before Sans wakes up and you’ve got lingerie that you purchased for this specific occasion to change into. You don’t normally bother with frills like that - neither of you are particularly fancy people – but you feel like you should make this special.

Sans is still asleep when you creep through the living room to get to your shared bedroom, sprawled adorably across the couch. A little line of drool leaks from his slightly open mouth and the sight of it makes your chest feel all warm and soupy.

God, he’s so cute. You love seeing him like this, so unguarded and peaceful and soft.

Once in your ensuite, you strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. You test the temperature of the water with your palm. Steam is billowing in soft sheets from the water by the time that you deem it to be an acceptable heat.

You step into the shower, sighing as the heat cascades over your head. Your hair sticks in wet tendrils to your face and neck. You hope that you can get it dry before your boyfriend wakes up.

Washing your hair is always a pain, but at least it gives you something hands-on to do to distract you from the tension slowly curling in your belly.

You and Sans have had dozens of conversations about today. In the beginning, he hadn’t wanted you to be here at all, worried that he’d be too rough with you. You’d scoffed at that, certain that he’d never hurt you, even by accident, and you still stand by that sentiment but after he’d explained this heat business to you properly, you’d understood his concerns.

It still feels like a strange term to use: heat. Too animalistic. Too wild.

Neither of those words are ones you’d use to describe Sans. He’s always so careful with you, so cautious. So afraid of hurting you, or even scaring you. Even in the throes of passion, he always has a firm leash on himself, no matter how hard you try to shake it off.

The idea of him, uninhibited, unrestrained –

You press your thighs together. Shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself.

Sans has explained the biological side of it to you a few times, but so much of the explanation had ultimately boiled down to it’s just magic, babe, so you’re still not sure that you entirely get it.

You have the basics down pat, you think; some monsters go into heat roughly once every twelve months.

Why some monsters and why every twelve months, you have no idea. The fact is that Sans ticks the first box and it’s been the allotted time. Even without checking the date he can tell, apparently, when a heat is coming; his already sharp senses have grown even keener over the past week and of course there’s the sleeping. There’s been some other stuff, too; he’s been all over you for the past week, even more so than usual, bringing you blankets and food and drinks. Making sure that you’re happy and comfortable. It’s been really nice, but he’s bashful about it, so you’ve done your best to not make a big deal about it.

Thank stars you managed to convince him to let you stick around for it. It had taken a lot of cajoling and promises that you’d leave if you so much as felt uncomfortable, but you’d done it.

The only downside is that you’re missing Halloween, but whatever. You can gorge yourself on candy any day of the year. The kind of ravaging you’re expecting is well worth that sacrifice.  

You finish scrubbing shampoo into the roots of your hair, your head haloed in suds. You’ve washed the rest of your body in the time that you let the shampoo sit on your head and it’s well and truly time to wash it out. You turn the cold water tap a bit higher to temper the water a little and then close your eyes and duck your head beneath the spray.

The water feels lovely against your face, soothing the tension between your brows. Eyes still closed, you bring your hands up to your head and begin rinsing the suds from your hair, going section by section to make sure nothing stays soapy. The sounds of the shower fill your ears, raining down on your senses.

Hard phalanges scrape against your waist from behind and you gasp, eyes flying open. You’re immediately assailed by a blast of water directly to the face, a little going into your mouth but most of it mixing with the shampoo and flowing into your eyes.

“Fuck!” you hiss, vision gone blurry. The hands immediately fall from your sides.

You grope forward blindly, searching for the towel you’d slung over the shower door. The soft fabric meets your fingertips and you drag it towards you, wiping your stinging eyes.

“sorry, sorry, sorry,” a deep voice chants into your ear and the words are familiar, but the tone isn’t, filled with a new urgency. “you okay? didn’t mean to scare ya’.”

“It’s okay,” you say hurriedly, feeling awful at how torn-up about it he sounds. “It’s just soap.”

“sorry,” Sans repeats. “thought you would’ve heard the door open.”

You blink a few times until your vision clears. “Nah, I was totally spaced out.” You throw the towel back over the shower door and turn around to face him.

Sans is completely naked, the majority of the space in the large shower taken up by his bulk. How the fuck he manages to move so quietly, you’ll never understand. It probably doesn’t speak well to your situational awareness that he managed to just sneak into the shower without you realising, but that’s a worry for another time.

He’s looking at you with a concern that makes your chest hurt, his single eyelight unusually fuzzy and scanning your expression for pain or panic. There’s none to be found, of course, but you’re sure that the shampoo’s made your eyes a little red, which might be giving the wrong impression.

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching up to press your hand against his skull. He’s warm to the touch, even to your shower-flushed skin. “Everything alright with you?”

He doesn’t reply verbally, but he leans into your palm with a sigh and some of the tension fades. You let him nuzzle into your hand for a moment, enjoying the intimacy, but then you remember that you’ve got half-rinsed shampoo in your hair that you need to finish washing out; it’ll make your hair go dry if you leave it sitting for too long.

“I’ve got to finish rinsing this out,” you explain, gesturing at your sudsy head.

“can i do it?” he asks you, hands fluttering towards you. “i wanna do something for you. i wanna take care of you.”

Aw, that’s sweet. You’ve showered together before, of course, but Sans has never offered to wash your hair for you. For a moment, you wonder what’s prompted the offer, but his hands drop back to his sides – you must’ve taken too long to answer – and your eyes follow them down and land on –

Oh. Yes. Right. The heat.

Well, that makes more sense. It’s clearly started. No wonder he’s climbed into the shower with you in the nude. Hell, no wonder he wants to wash your hair; he’d warned you that he might be a little more demonstratively affectionate and attentive.

Your gaze lingers on the slate-blue erection straining towards you for only a second before it shoots back up to his face. The same blue colour lightly stains his zygomatic arches.

“Sure,” you say, voice gone a little husky. “Hold on, I’ll turn back around.”

You step back under the spray and spin around, your backside to Sans, and tip your head back so your hair is under the cascade of the showerhead, but your face stays somewhat dry.

“Go for it,” you say over the sound of the water.

Heat prickles across your scalp when sharp phalanges slip into your hair. You hum, staticky pleasure flowing from your head and down your neck. You let your eyes flutter closed. The pressure and lack of give in Sans’ bony fingers make him great at giving head massages.

He must step a little closer, because something hot and hard bumps against the small of your back. You shiver, goosebumps tingling across your skin.

It’s difficult not to relax completely into the head massage, but as nice as it feels, you realise that all of the shampoo isn’t actually being washed away. No wonder: it’s not like Sans has any hair to wash and you can’t imagine that he’d have done this for anyone else before.

“You’ve got to part it a little to get all the soap out,” you say. You tip your head a little further back and to the side to demonstrate, letting the water wash away another pocket of shampoo.

His fingers comb through your hair and then begin to wash a little more rigorously, going section-by-section. “don’t worry, babe, i’ll do a sud-sational job.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m rooting for you.”

The remaining shampoo is soon washed away, but Sans continues with his ministrations to your scalp with one hand. The other hand drops to your hip, where he rubs little circles with his thumb into the slick flesh. You cant your hips back towards him, pressing his cock more firmly against your lower back.

The hand at your hip tightens, sending a thrill shivering through you. His hand is so big that you can feel the tips of his phalanges digging in close to where your thigh joins your pubic mound, whilst the base of his hand rests on the outer curve of your ass. The reminder of how big he is compared to you – fuck, it always gets you going.

Looks like your hair is going unconditioned today. Ah well; you’ll use a hair mask tomorrow to make up for it. You have far more pressing issues at hand.

You step back through the water – keeping your eyes firmly shut – and into Sans’ embrace, his hand dropping from your hair to curl around your torso. It wraps around your chest and settles on the curve of your breast, his fingers toying with your nipple. You can feel his cock throbbing against your back, so hard, especially considering that neither of you have touched it yet.

“This heat thing is no joke, huh?” you say.

His fingers pause on your breast – you and your big mouth. “nope. are you��sure that you’re okay with this? i can stop-.”

“Absolutely, one million percent sure,” you say firmly. “Never been surer of anything in my life. I want this.”

“yeah?” his voice has gone a little shivery. You much prefer this to the worried, hesitant tone of before. “yeah, you want this? want me to make you feel good?”

The hand at your hip dips a little lower, brushing at the cleft of your pussy. It reminds you of how very badly you want to be touched there.

“Yes, please,” you say and because you know that it gets him every time you use his name, you continue, “please touch me, Sans.”

You hear him exhale shakily and then blessedly, finally, his hand slips between your thighs. You groan, head tipping back to rest against his sternum. His phalanges trace along your outer labia, using your wetness to glide against the sensitive skin, before moving inwards to slowly circle your clit.

“i'll take good care of you, i promise,” he mutters against your ear. “spread your legs a little for me, babe, that’s it.”

The words send heat spiralling in your core and pull your muscles tight. It normally takes loads of foreplay to get Sans talking like that, voice pitched even deeper with need, and even more to for him to take the lead like this.

You hurry to spread your legs, glad for his arms around you to keep you from slipping on the shower tile.

He uses the extra room between your thighs to play with your clit a little more firmly, touching you exactly the way you like. Even over the roar of the shower – which you should really turn off, neither of you are really underneath the showerhead and water isn’t cheap – you can hear how wet you are, hear how his fingers slip against you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you sigh, feeling him gently slip a finger inside of you to gently press against your g-spot.

Your eyes had been closed but you force them open now. You want to watch.

You look down the plain of your body, taking in the hand cupping your breast, the other between your thighs. His hands look huge between your legs, bones thick and long, pleasantly textured against your skin.

“say it again,” he urges you, hands speeding up. “tell me how good i make you feel.”

“So good,” you gasp, feeling the heat tighten in your belly. “So fucking good. Please don’t stop, oh my god.”

Another finger is slid inside of you and they both tap in tandem against your g-spot whilst his thumb rubs tight circles against your clit and it only takes a few moments for the dual stimulation to build into a crescendo. You let out a strangled moan as you come, feeling yourself tremble around his fingers and letting your head thud back against his sternum.

Sans groans against the top of your head and you feel his cock pulse against your back, warmth seeping into your skin.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath and trust that your legs aren’t about to collapse underneath you.

“I like this heat thing,” you breath.

Sans huffs out a laugh behind you. “aw, you tuckered out already? told ya you should’ve napped with me before.”

You turn around to face him, pulling faux indignation to your face. “Hey, don’t count me out yet. It’ll take more than one orgasm to wear me out.”

His browbone quirks, an expression you see on him so rarely, and sweet affection rushes into your chest, overlapping with the lingering buzz of your orgasm. God, you love him so much.

“is that a challenge?” he says.

You get the feeling that you might be biting off a little more than you can chew, but you’re not backing down now. “Sure is, baby. I’ve got stamina for days. I wanna touch you first, though. I owe you one.”

His smirk gives way to bashfulness. “i – uh, no you don’t, babe. we’re both one-for-one.”

“What do you mean? I haven’t even -.” You pause, remembering how he’d ground against you as you’d come. You twist your head back to see if any evidence remains on your back, but you’ve been standing under the water, so there’s nothing, but Sans’ face says it all.  

“… holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” you say. “Bed now, please and thank you.”

The water is hastily switched off – Papyrus is going to flip his lid when he sees the water bill for October – and then you’re shrieking with delight as Sans lifts you clear off your feet and into his arms. You blink and then you’re being gently deposited into the soft sheets of your bed, still completely soaked.

Sans looms over you, knees caging your hips with his arms bracketed around your shoulders. His single eyelight huge and fuzzy. It’s trained on your face, unmoving. His ribcage heaves. Something crackles in the air around you, so palpable that even you, human and magic-less as you are, can feel it dancing across your skin.

“I think that takes the record for the shortest shortcut to date, lazybones,” you say breathlessly.

You’re expecting a clever quip in return, or perhaps a joke or a particularly horrific pun, but he just sucks in a low, unsteady breath, eyelight moving down from your face to laze down the length of your body. You can’t help it: you squirm under his discerning gaze. Your heart is racing, beating a frantic staccato beat against your ribcage and even though your skin is wet and rapidly cooling, you feel hot.

“See something you like?” You’re trying for coy and cocky, but it comes out a little strangled.

“fuck yeah,” he breathes, and then his mouth crashes onto yours.

The kiss is intense, but not as urgent as you’d expected it to be. If anything, you’re the one moving things along, wrapping your arms around his clavicles and hooking your leg around his pelvis to draw him closer. That’s one thing you’ve always loved about sex with Sans; everything is deliberate and considered, never hurried, never rushed. Apparently even heat can’t speed him up.

His tongue licks a wet stripe up the column of your throat, making you hiss. His breath comes out in hot pants against your neck and his teeth just barely scrape against your skin.

“I want to -,” you start, sliding a hand between your bodies to find his cock.

Your wrist is caught in a bony grip before you can reach far enough, and your hand is pinned above your head. His face is still buried in your chest, laving wet kisses against your collarbones and between your breasts and you can hear him mumbling, you think, whispering something against your skin.

You give a cursory tug at your wrist – you’re not interested in breaking free because this is way too fucking hot, but you want to see the reaction the token resistance gets.

Sans fucking growls against your skin and holy shit, you need him to touch you, right now.

He pulls away from your neck, leaving your chest heaving.

“sit up,” he says. “wanna eat that fucking pussy.”

Sounds good to you!

You rush to sit. You’re a little confused when he lies down in the place you just vacated but then you squeal as Sans grasps your thighs and uses his hold to abruptly flip you around and then up, towards the pillows, towards his face, hauling one of your knees over his head.

Off balance, you curl forward and brace your hands on his iliac crests, chest heaving. It’s a struggle to stay upright.

Your hips ache with the delicious stretch, knees planted firmly on either side of his skull. His phalanges dig into your ass, guiding you to press more firmly against him. You try to pull yourself a little higher to give the poor guy some breathing room but he just tugs you down even more and, to your delighted surprise, actually gives your ass a little slap.

It's barely a slap at all, really, all sound and no sting, but coming from your normally shy boyfriend, it sends new pleasure throbbing through you.

Okay, then; if he wants you to ride his face, then you’re going to ride his fucking face.

You roll your hips against him, feeling the soft slickness of his tongue and the unyielding press of bone against your sensitive flesh. You’re tentative at first, but his hands start moving in tandem with your undulations, urging you on, so you take that as a green light to speed things up.

It feels so fucking good. The wet slide of your pussy against his mouth, the way his tongue follows your motions to stimulate your clit. Your thighs tremble around his head.

God, you must be making a fucking mess of his face and just picturing it makes you clench.

You can feel your second orgasm gradually building, waves of heat pulsing in time with your hips. Then you’d be two to one, you realise. Pretty unfair, considering that he’s the one with the raging biological (magical?) need to fuck.

You’re loathe to move from your position on his face, though, so you’re gonna have to get creative.

He’s too tall for you to reach his cock with your mouth – you love the size difference ninety-nine percent of the time, but it makes certain positions impossible – but luckily, you’ve got two perfectly good hands.

He grunts against your pussy when you wrap your hand around his cock, the other still gripping his hipbone to keep yourself upright. It’s so hard, twitching in your grip, and when you trace a single finger up the underside, it drips with a bead of precum.

Trying to time your strokes with the rhythm of your hips, you touch him the way you know he likes best; slow, firm motions, lingering at the head. You’d normally use two hands for this, but you don’t trust yourself to stay seated with your core strength alone.

He seems to be enjoying himself just fine anyway; even muffled through your body, you can hear his grunts and moans. The sounds and the feel of him in your hand barrel you closer to orgasm, heat pulling tight in your belly. You’re still a little sensitive from your first orgasm but with you controlling the pace, the extra sensation only makes it better.

A particularly firm slide of his tongue against your clit pushes you over the edge and you come with a cry, grinding down onto his mouth.

You’re shaking as you slide off of his face, rolling to the side to burry your face into the pillows. Your thighs slide wetly against each other and the whole of you is singing with pleasure.

You crane your neck to look back at Sans, but he’s already grabbing your hips and hauling them upwards and backwards towards him, your ass high in the air and your face buried deep into the pillows.

You go to pull yourself up onto your elbows but then you feel his fingers carding through the sweaty hair at the back of your neck, the base of his hand ghosting along the top of your spine. It’s only the tiniest suggestion of pressure, but you get the message all the time.

You let your elbows collapse underneath you and fall back onto the bed.

A wet, toothy kiss is pressed to your hip. “so good for me,” he says.

You moan something insensible into the pillows and spread your legs a little wider. A huge hand presses between them, spreading your wetness along your thighs. Everything feels oversensitive and tingly; you’re not sure if you’ll be able to come again quickly, but you’re excited to find out.

The blunt head of his cock bumps up against your pussy, glancing away from your entrance. It rubs along your clit, slow and lazy and so fucking huge.

It can fit inside of you – mostly, anyway - but it takes hours of careful prep-work and rivers of lube good quality silicone lube, and as relaxed and ready as you’re feeling right now, trying for penetrative sex without some dedicated stretching is just a bad idea.

You press your thighs together, wedging his cock between them. The base of it is hot against your clit and the head nudges at your lower belly. His hands grip your ass and slowly, he begins moving.

The slick grind against your clit is just enough to make new arousal spiral through you. You press yourself back against him as much as you’re able – not a whole lot you can do with just your ass in the air – but you’re soon lost to the sensations.

“fuck, babe, you feel so good,” he says, hands tight around your hips. “so fuckin’ good.”

Your response is lost to the pillows. You’re drooling, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

He starts to speed up and you press your thighs together even tighter, increasing the friction on your clit. You feel – you feel fucking wild, out of control, lost to the incomprehensible magic thrumming through the air. God, you can’t believe that you were nervous about this, that you were worried that you’d fuck it up. This is perfect.

A hand grips your shoulder and tugs you upwards – you’re loving all the manhandling tonight – and you pull your hands beneath you, leaving you on all fours. Sans curls over you, ribcage pressed to your back and skull pressed to the side of your neck.

“love you, so much,” he rasps, scraping his teeth down your neck. “you’re all mine, aren’t’cha? tell me.”

“I’m all yours,” you agree. You decide to risk losing your balance and snake your hand down to touch him. “Want you to come for me, baby, make me yours.”

The combination of your words and touch makes him cry out. He throbs in your hand and thrusts harder. Such indirect stimulation wouldn’t normally be enough to get you off, but you’re so turned on that you careen over the edge anyway, tired muscles clenching around nothing. It’s the softest orgasm of the night, the least intense, but no less satisfying for it. You feel him coming too, spilling on your hand and belly.

When the orgasm fades away, it leaves bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. Your arms collapse underneath you and your bottom half soon follows suit, your shaking thighs failing to hold up your weight.

“need a break?” he asks you. You can hear the amusement in his voice and as annoyed as you are to prove him right, it makes you so happy to hear him sound so happy.

You groan in response. Speech is beyond your capacity.

It takes you a second, but eventually you unearth your face from the pillows to look at him with bleary eyes. Part of you wants to insist that you’re good to keep going, to push through the overstimulation, but your bits are starting to go numb.

“Maybe just a little one,” you concede. You roll over onto your back to face him, careful to avoid the wet patch.

He looks so pleased with himself. So satisfied.

Warm fondness unspools in your belly, bringing a flush to your cheeks that has nothing to do with physical exertion. You’re so fucking lucky.

“what’s that look for?” he asks you, tilting his head the way he always does when he’s trying to work you out and fuck, how can one person be this cute?

You resist the urge to grab him by the zygomatic arches to smoosh his face between your hands, but it’s a near thing.

“I just love you a lot,” you say. You look back down at his pelvis; no dick. Satiated for now, apparently. “Wanna have a quick nap before the next round?”

“stars, you’re perfect,” he mutters, making you grin.

“Yeah, I’m the best,” you agree. “C’mere, lazybones.”

He curls up next to you and you snuggle against his side. It’s always a bit of challenge to navigate your soft, fleshy bits with his sharp, pointy ones, but you make it work. He lets out a contented sigh as you settle in his arms, your legs thrown over his femurs.

You doze for a few minutes, soothed by the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your head.

“sorry that you’re missing Halloween,” he says. “could’ve bagged some good candy.”

“I’d take staying in with you over squeezing myself into some Party City costume to totter around the city in this freezing weather any day. Trick-or-treating is overrated,” you say. “And I’m sure Paps’ll be happy to share.”

Sans hums. “hope he brings back some of those hershey’s things.”

“Kisses, you mean?”

“well, if you’re offering.”

You sigh into his clavicle. “That was one a stretch, even for you.”

But you press a quick kiss to his teeth all the same.  

Sleep tugs at your eyelids; loathe as you are to concede defeat, you really are tuckered out. The bed is so comfortable and warm - the company’s not too bad either - and the room is perfectly dark, save the gentle shine of the glow-in-the-dark stars Sans has stuck to the roof.

“Shit.” You sit up. “Fuck, I forgot!”

“what’s wrong?” His voice is a little groggy.

“I forgot to pay the power bill.” You’re going to have to get up - and put clothes on, horror of all horrors - and go into the cold kitchen to get your laptop. “Urgh, sorry, I’ve got do it, otherwise they’ll hit us with a late fee.”

Sans tugs at your arm. “relax, babe, i already did it.”

You pause your attempts to wiggle out of his grip. “What?”

“i already paid it,” he explains. “saw that it was on the calendar. you can chill.”

“Oh, thank you, calendar,” you say.

“hey, what about me? do you doubt my cents of responsibility?”

“Thank you to you too, then. I really don’t want to get up,” you say, settling back down next to him and curving your body into his.

He huffs a laugh against the top of your head. “good, ‘cause ‘m not letting you outta this bed for the foreseeable future.”

You can only muster up a yawn in response. That sounds perfect to you.

[mdhwrites]

Oh. That's Not Good.

Someone brought up in my Discord praising how Luz has a negative character arc. The comments claimed that she broke the hero's journey goes off to scream at how wrong that is and how her arc was amazing and...

I got so angry that I gave myself a headache and made my eyes hurt.

I just hate Luz at this point. Luz is what broke the show initially for me after all because she's just a bad person. Unlike people who ACTUALLY try to subvert the Hero's Journey though, the show doesn't acknowledge she's a bad person. It excuses and wants you to sympathize with EVERY mistake she makes after Yesterday's Lie which is when Luz stops being a genuinely very common, basic ass cartoon protagonist. That is NOT a break in the hero's journey or brave storytelling, that's just ramping up the stakes, something I still think the show utterly fails at except through narrative cheats.

I want to remind everyone that a large part of why I've had to stop writing TOH fanfiction is because my brain couldn't let me write Luz for romance. Literally during a one off I was writing, my brain went, "That's out of character. She wouldn't care that much. She wouldn't be asking these questions and she wouldn't be inconveniencing herself." And this was BEFORE I started analyzing the show. Before I stopped watching it. But it WAS after Reaching Out, the episode I think most assassinates both Luz and Amity's characters and frankly killed canon Lumity for me, even if I didn't want to admit it at the time.

This isn't a normal analysis blog. I'm not trying to really teach with this. There's SO MUCH to learn from Luz's failings after all that I could but this feels more in line with the whole ten years reflection thing. After all, it's been almost two years since Reaching Out. I haven't finished a project in a year and a half. What do pretty much all of those projects have in common?

They were still trying to do Lumischa, despite one third of that equation being broken for my brain. I do wonder if it's why last night, I found a conversion edit of one of the kinkiest stories I've ever written so easy. It's as far away from Lumity and TOH as I could possibly get after all. And... Maybe that's just what I need to do if I have this subconcious anger about Luz.

That sucks. I don't like admitting it but... It's kind of just how it might need to be for me.

Edit: The fanfic this happened during, for those curious.

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For those potentially going "Which of your stories are you converting": None that I have publicly published. This was a 35k story I wrote four years ago during the kinkiest year of my writing (then followed up by a sapphic erotica story before starting the last three years of no erotica from me) and was one that when I finished it in like four days I went "I bet I could convert this because I'm actually kind of proud of it." And then I never got to that but did remember it yesterday and made actually some decent progress on it. Will I finish? Shrug But again, maybe it's the sort of change of pace I need.

Also no tags because this is more a vent than analysis and I don't feel like tagging that.

[loveaj]

Valentine

pairing: austin butler x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: hardcore banter, mentions of body image/insecurities, smut (minors dni), oral (f! & m! receiving), unprotected sex, praise 

summary: as the reader’s first boyfriend austin takes you on an as close to perfect date for the first valentine’s day you are actually able to spend together as a couple. 

a/n: i wrote this in less than a day and am pretty happy with how it turned out for the most part. i did not however thoroughly proofread it, so i apologize for any mistakes. feel free to send in any requests for austin/elvis and i’d be happy to write them!! with that being said, i hope you enjoy 💗💗

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t scare you how much love you felt for the man you had the privilege of calling your boyfriend. It was your first time being in love and despite your young age, Austin could have guessed. You felt embarrassed being 20 and never even kissed when you had met him two years ago. But now you were 23 and not only kissed daily, but loved unconditionally. 

There was something so special about him to you, it didn’t matter your lack of romantic experiences before him. You had fallen so easily regardless of you slight fear of men as well as vulnerability. He just made you feel so warm inside, the way he wasn’t scared to show how he felt with a careful gesture of running his fingers through your hair and calling you beautiful. Every time he’d pay you a compliment or do you a favor, just his pure gentleness and kindness always made your cheeks heat up and your heart swell. 

First it was casual dates to restaurants around town and movies nights on either of your couches, which quickly turned into hour long phone calls nightly spilling every detail about each others days when you were apart, Austin reading every book you’d gush to him about without you even asking him to. He’d began to shower you with gifts as you began to clear your schedule of anything in the way of spending time with him. Now, you were living in your shared apartment saving every last dime you’d made for a beautiful house along the California coast big enough to hold the family you dreamed to have with him. 

Sure, sometimes you stopped to think about the pace your relationship was progressing, but you were too blinded by the sparkle of Austin’s blue eyes to let it scare you. You also had nothing to compare it to so it didn’t make a difference. Your friends warned you of how young you were or how you would regret pouring all of yourself into the love you felt once you got older, but you thought they were wrong. They wanted you to find out who you were before finding your lasting love, they didn’t know that who you wanted to be was Austin’s.

It was your first time having Austin with you in person as your valentine on Valentine’s Day and you were ecstatic. The previous that have passed he had been occupied with his work, but that didn’t stop him from making it special for you always sending you flowers and gifts. Austin was taking you out for dinner at your favorite restaurant and if you were honest you were a bit more excited for what was to come after. You finished putting on your golden earrings Austin had bought you a few months back and stepped away from the mirror in front of you to get a better look at yourself as a whole. 

The pink dress you were wearing stopped above your knees, its tight fitting fabric rippling at every curve of your body. By no means where you the skinniest girl to walk the earth, but you didn’t let that make you feel bad. Austin shut down your previous insecurities he said it just meant there was more of you to love, that he liked grabbing you squeezing and sucking your flesh. 

“If you were a bag of bones I’d be too terrified that you’d snap in half in bed to have a fraction of the fun we do,” he giggled out pulling you into his lap. “Look, none of us are perfect,” he’d said pinching the bit of fat on his stomach to showcase his “imperfections” perfectly normal and beautiful feature to you. 

“Very cute baby,” you smiled kissing his cheek. “But why do you always have to make it about sex?” you questioned giving him a fake intimidating look.

“There are plenty of other reasons why you are perfect the way you are,” he stated confidently.

“Such as…” you trailed off playing with his hair.

“Such as knowing my angel is healthy and your kind heart and your beautiful smile and the way you do your hair and your sense of humor and your little laugh you do when you know something’s not supposed to be funny but it is,” he listed pulling you in for a kiss.

“good boy,” you said patting him on the shoulder before continuing your kiss in between giggles.

You pulled down the bit of fabric around your chest to showcase more of your cleavage. It wasn’t the most noble thing to so, but you had to admit it was a bit of fun to tease Austin. 

Skipping down the stairs in your silver heals you jumped onto the back of your unsuspecting boyfriend who was too busy drooling over himself in the mirror by your front door. 

“Classic Austin,” you said shaking your head as you gripped his shoulders feeling his arms snake around your legs holding you up. 

“Hey! You can’t just sneak up on me like that,” he said trying his best to hide his embarrassment, and for someone who acted for a living he was doing a pretty horrible job.

“It’s okay baby, anyone who looked as pretty as you would do the same.” You jumped off his back grabbing the car keys from the table in front of him. “You ready?” You asked.

“Yeah let me grab my wallet,” he said. When he left the room you let a smile ripple through your entire body causing your limbs to shake. You quickly took a breath and relaxed your face as Austin returned hands in his pockets.

“Let’s rock and roll,” you stated turning to the door trying to keep a straight face so your choice of words hits harder.

“You’re ridiculous,” Austin said letting out a laugh. “For thinking I’m going to let you drive,” he then added onto his sentence when he saw you were swinging the car keys around your pointer finger.

“What the heck!” you said stomping you foot, “I’ll do good this time I promise,” you told him giving you best puppy dog eyes. 

“Y/N get real, last time you drove we almost crashed because you decided hitting all of the notes of the Elvis song that was on was more important that keeping your eyes on the road,” Austin said plainly snatching the keys from your grasp.

“Um, last time I checked you shouldn’t be allowed to sing ‘Trouble’ if you’re gonna butcher it, I had to do what I had to do. And we didn’t almost crash Aus, we just slightly swerved too far right when I shut my eyes for a sec,” you defended yourself in the sassiest tone you could muster. 

“Well I hate to be the one to tell you this, but if that’s the criteria for singing the song then it might be the last time for you sweetheart,” He said looking you in the eyes before walking away to unlock the car. You rushed over to the passengers side and sat down before he got a chance to walk over and open the door for you. Austin scoffed dropping down into the drivers seat, starting the car. He watched as you crossed your arms over your chest letting out a huff.

“I’d like to see you try and do any better,” you replied to his previous comment with bitterness.

“I actually did, you can listen to it on Spotify,” Austin said matter-of-factly. Pulling away from your apartment complex he turned radio inserting a CD into the stereo skipping to a specific track. “Here baby, redeem yourself,” he nodded. You recognized the song right away by the intro of horns and drums.

“Oh, don’t get it twisted baby, it’s too late for you,” You told him turning off the stereo. You would only be accepting an apology in the form of his tongue on your clit. Of course he knew of your appreciation for him going down on you, and it had already been on his agenda for tonight but he decided to mentally note the importance of it. 

“Well, you know what they say, salty girlfriends don’t get ice cream after dinner,” He responded. You couldn’t help but let laughter erupt from the bottom of your throat. 

“Literally no one has ever said that in the history of the universe,” you said between laughs. You shook your head at his attempts to make a joke, it had made you laugh but more at him than with him. It was painful at times like these. You always squeezed your eyes as tight as they could close when his millennial was showing. 

“Actually, I just did so not no one.”

“Actually you suck.”

“Actually how does it feel to be able to dish it out but not take it,” he asked when you were stopped at a red light. His blue eyes bored into yours as if hypnotizing you into answering what you’d otherwise think was a rhetorical question. You didn’t let his evil tactics work on you, flashing a celebratory smirk as he looked away once the traffic light turned green. “Come on Y/N, it was a friendly roast,”Austin reasoned.

“A ‘friendly roast’ would be me making fun of your two year old shoes or telling you that you suck at playing Clue with me,” you began before he cut you off.

“Y/N, Clue was not meant to be a 2 player game,” he tried to continue before you cut him off right back.

“Well you’re the only one that plays with me, I don’t think my friends would like very much if I showed up to our next get together with Clue instead a 12 pack of 6 ounces,” you pouted. Austin reached over to cup your cheek.

“Well just know that I will always love you are your weird little interests,” he smiled.

“Good to know that you figured out we’re a package deal.” You were hands down one of the most interesting people Austin had ever met, but that was more the reason for him to love you like he did. Sure, every six months or so you’d find something obscure to strike your fancy, but it didn’t bother him. And then of course there were things that seemed more permanent like your love for the board game Clue or Taylor Swift. He was under the impression you’d just enjoyed her music until you dragged him to her Reputation tour and was compelled to buy you half of the merch stand. He realized he was extremely wrong as he witnessed you screaming every song (most of which he’d never heard before that night but would be hearing a lot more of in the next two years) at the top of your lungs. “That’s why you are my best friend,” you finished.

“Was I just friendzoned?” he asked moving his hand from your face to clutch his chest.

“You most certainly were,” you replied nodding sympathetically.

“That’s just cold Y/N, and after I was honest with you for a moment?”

“Sorry Aus, truth hurts,” you shrugged. The car pulled into the parking lot of In-N-Out Burger; your favorite restaurant. Were you dressed up in a pink dress and six inch high heels to eat fast food? Yes, but you were too focused on watch Austin get out of your car standing up tall next to you in a white button up shirt and black slacks. It made you groan at the fact that Austin was still taller than you even when you had an extra six inches of height. Austin knew it placing his elbow on your head as if it were an arm rest.

“So, you ready to go in?” He asked nonchalantly. You stormed off halfway to the restaurant before he caught up grabbing your waist. “Slow your role baby.”

“Yeah whatever,” you said grabbing his hand pulling him to the entrance. After spending 15 whole minutes in line to order your food Austin ordering for you as well as paying (of course) because no matter how many digs you took at each other you were always his princess. You got your food and proceeded over to a booth next to a window. Despite the two sides of the booth Austin opted to sit next to you instead of across. He loved watching you messily eat your food inevitably having some kind of sauce smeared all over your face by the end of the meal.

Austin made sure you were done eating before wiping your face off with the napkin he’d gotten for himself that he didn’t even need to use opposed to his several trips back up to the stand the extra napkins were kept for you. 

“Ice cream now?” you asked. Austin couldn’t help but smirk at the sparkle in your eyes at the thought of ice cream.

“Yes, ice cream now,” he answered getting up from the booth collecting all of the trash to throw out while also helping you up.

“Can I drive?” you asked in your sweetest voice. “Only to get ice cream then you can drive home,” you reasoned hanging off Austin’s shoulder. “Please please please.”

“Let me think,” he stopped for a second wiping his mouth pretending to be deep in thought. “How about no,” he said flatly not expecting you to sprint over to the car blocking the drivers side door before he could get there.

“How about yes or I’ll stay here all night and you won’t get this ridiculously sweet pussy later,” you fired back with determination. The determination soon turned into disappointment as Austin picked you up throwing you over his shoulder bringing you over to the other side and buckling you in. “That’s not fair!” you scoffed

“Checkmate,” he said smugly as he started the car. If he weren’t about to buy you ice cream he would have gotten an ear full. 

Your chocolate ice cream would have been more satisfying if you were the one that drove to get it, but it was still chocolate ice cream. And of course on top of devouring your dessert you had to have several licks of Austin’s. He chose strawberry (your second favorite) instead of mint chocolate chip (his actual favorite which also happened to be your least favorite) so that he could share.

“Thank you baby,” you said licking the drips of chocolate from the brim of your cone. You leaned over planting a chaste kiss on the height of his cheekbone. 

“Does this mean I’m going to score tonight?” He asked in a worrying manner.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re joking or not,” you said shuddering.

The ride home was accompanied by you belting out the words to Unchained Melody titling it your romantic gesture for Austin on Valentine’s. Austin loved it as mush as he would anything material, maybe even more due to it being fully and completely you. He knew that everything you gave him had always come from your heart and he was happy to take whatever you had to offer reciprocating the love he was granted. 

Arriving home, you finally let Austin open your car door for you, taking your hand as you exited the vehicle like a true gentlemen. Hand in hand you walked up to your apartment, a comfortable silence encompassing you both. Walking through the door you did not expect to be thrown over Austin’s shoulder and rushed to your shared bedroom to be slammed down onto the bed, Austin immediately crawling on top of you. 

Before you could get a word in Austin’s plush lips were on yours enclosing them in a needy kiss. You deepened the kiss, running your fingers through his sandy locks. Without coming up for air you felt Austin begin to lick your lips with his tongue before you grant him access. You shifted back father up the bed, lying down with open legs allowing Austin to crawl between them. As your tongues spent time tasting every crevice of each others mouths you began to grind your hips into his, the feeling of his chest pressed against yours causing wetness to collect in your panties. Austin groaned at your action, holding down your hips to prevent you from doing it again. 

He liked to keep you waiting, it was far less of a good time when you got what you truly wanted right away. You huffed in frustration as Austin moved his lips down to start peppering kisses along your jaw and neck spending extra time sucking the spot below your earlobe. You tried your best to buck your hips up free of his grasp but the efforts were only met with more pressure from his palm applied to your lower stomach. 

“Come on baby, need to feel you,” you pleaded running your hands down along his neck and shoulders. Your fingers began to play with the buttons of his shirt slowly releasing the button second from the top because of course he wore the shirt out with the top one unbuttoned just to drive you crazy. 

“Be a good girl and let me take my time with you,” Austin responded in a low whisper against your ear. “Want to make sure I love every inch of you,” he said reaching down to the bottom of your dress beginning to lift it up your body. You had removed his shirt as he removed your dress. Now almost completely bare in front of him. 

You took off your lacy bra quickly after craving to feel your bare chest against his. Austin let you press up against him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your erect nipples brushing against his firm chest, before lowering you back onto the bed. In seconds his mouth was enclosed over one of your nipples sucking mercilessly, the other being pinch and twisted with his hand. 

“Such pretty tits, so lucky to have them all to myself,” Austin said. You let out a low moan as he removed his mouth blowing cool air onto your nipple now coated in his saliva. He then started kiss lower along you stomach until he reached the waistband of you white cotton panties decorated with pink trim and a bow. 

“Love these on you so much princess,” he breathed out before pulling them off. You shuddered at the fact of now being completely bare. “They make you seem so innocent, which we both now isn’t the case, right baby?” He asked taunting you. 

“Yes,” you responded lowly as Austin spread your legs apart.

“So beautiful, every part of you,” he stated beginning to kiss along the insides of your thighs. You clenched around nothing as he mouth grew closer to your center. His mouth ghosted over your heat, spreading the moment of anticipation too thin for you. You instinctively bucked your hips into his face eager for his mouth on you. “Now, good girls are patient and wait for what they will be given,” he said looking up at you. 

Whether or not what Austin had just said plagued more arousal to seep from your core (you’d be lying if you said it didn’t) you wanted him more than waiting was worth and he always made it worth it. “Enough talking and just lick my clit, please,” you let out causing a laugh to be let out of Austin’s lips.

“Well since you said please,” he reasoned finally closing his mouth over slick folds. His tongue danced between your folds sucking in every drop of wetness into his mouth, lapping and sucking over your clit just like you had requested. He tried the best he could to stimulate your bundle of nerves while reaching down and pushing a finger into your entrance. 

“Fuck baby,” you moaned out as he added another curling his fingers against your special spot. Austin continued sucking on your mound while massaging your g-spot occasionally scissoring his fingers apart, reveling in every moan and squeal he provoked from you. The bubble in your stomach only grew bigger with every passing second, finally exploding through your body. Your legs shook as your orgasm ran through you, Austin not once stopping or slowing his actions. 

Once you came down from your high you took a second to breath, placing your hands that where just gripping Austin’s scalp for dear life to grab his broad shoulders, pulling him to be eye level with you. Quickly you hooked your leg over his hips using your entire body weight to flip your position perching on top of his waist. You shuddered at the contact of his abs against your clit.

Austin’s eyes lit up as you moved further down his body. “My turn?” he asked enthusiastically.

“I guess so,” you said rolling your eyes, unbuttoning his pants pulling them down slowly along with his boxers. His erection sprung free against his stomach, the tip pulsating red. You began with little kitten licks collecting the glowing beads of precum along the slit. Austin grunted as you took the entire tip into your mouth. You could tell by the way his hands were firmly gripping your ass cheeks that he was fighting every urge in his body not to completely shove his entire dick down your throat. You took this to your advantage hollowing out your cheeks lowering your head slowly using your tongue to lick a stripe along the vein protruding from back of his cock. Soon the tip of your nose met his pelvis, trying your best to keep your breath steady so you wouldn’t start choking. Relaxing your throat your gaze directed up to Austin’s face and the way his eyes squeezed shut. You started bobbing your head, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each nod of your head. 

“Hurry up, want to fuck you,” he grunted. At this you let him start to thrusting his hips up into your mouth to speed up the process. “Feel so nice baby, doing so good for me.” As your tongue circled his tip he let out one last moan before hot spurts of cum filled your mouth warming your throat as you swallowed every last drop. “Top or bottom?” Austin asked you, you loved that he always made your comfort his biggest priority even if he was the one that wound up doing the majority of the work. 

“Wanna feel you on top of me,” you breathed out giving Austin the go ahead to lift you off of him sliding you further up the bed. You pulled him into a passionate kiss humming at the feeling of him running his tip through your wet cunt. He stopped at your entrance pushing in at a tantalizing pace, using his hand that wasn’t cupping one of your breasts to spread your legs wider. Bottoming out in you, you both let out synchronized moans full of want. You pulled his shoulders down to meet yours wrapping your arms around his neck as he began moving, deep and thorough with each thrust. Every time his chest brushed against yours stimulating your nipples your hiccuped low groans, your spine tingling. 

“Jesus Christ you are an actual angel because this is heavenly,” Austin exhaled into the shell of your ear. 

You giggled between heavy breaths. “Now is not the time for cheesy pick up lines Austin. There is absolutely no need you are literally fucking me right now,” You told him brushing his hair from his eyes to meet his gaze. You shared smiles as Austin reached down to hike your leg over his shoulder. Your back arched at this new angle, the knot in your stomach tightening. You slipped your hand between you bodies to rub your mound, kissing and sucking Austin’s neck in all the right spots as an effort to distract him from your other actions. 

“I don’t think so princess,” he said picking up on your actions immediately removing your hand from in between your legs resting it onto his back. “That’s my job,” he then added mimicking your previous movements.

“Thank you baby,” you said running your fingers along his spine. Your entire body began to shake as your high approached, feeling electricity run through your veins. “Gotta cum Aus,” you groaned pulling him closer.

“Me too princess,” Austin said keeping up with his steady thrust. You started meeting his hips half way greedy for your release. Soon enough something inside of you snapped sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body. You felt as though your body was being lifted from the bed, your back arching through your orgasm. Austin’s movements staying fluid despite being seconds away from his finish. Still coming down from your high, you tried your best to keep at the same pace coaxing him toward his release. Letting out a deep breath you felt hot streaks of cum fill you up as you twirled Austin’s hair between your fingers adoringly. 

“You are unbelievable,” you told him turning onto your side pulling him close. You gripped his cheeks bringing his face toward yours peppering light kisses all over. 

“You’re making me blush, quit it,” he joked giggling. Your gaze fell onto his blue eyes and an idea sparked within your mind.

“I have one last surprise for my valentine,” you said getting up off of the bed walking over to the corner to grab the guitar resting on the stand in a slight limp. You cringed at the dripping feeling of his cum mixed with yours squishing and sticky between your thighs.

“What are you going to serenade me?” he asked, each wobble of your legs bringing him immense joy. 

“Something like that,” you chuckled evilly. Sitting back on the bed you placed the guitar over your knee. “This is a song called ‘Whatever My Love’, and I’d like to dedicate this to my boyfriend,” you said with a smile etched on your face. “Keep on loving me so sweetly like you do babe,” you added pointing at his figure folded over, his head in his hands. 

“I hate you so much,” Austin said between laughs, pulling the guitar from you hands and dragging you up to lay on top of him.

“And I love you too.”

[subspencer]

spencer has been on a case for a couple weeks now, and he’s coming back tonight. his plane was delayed so he wouldn’t have gotten home until really late so you try your hardest to stay awake by doing different things that google says helps, and eventually you fall asleep reading a book or something and when spencer comes home he sees you and just moves you to get comfy and kisses your head, then you wake up and then some fluff or smut doesn’t matter<33

hiii i wrote this all last night! it’s a bit of both fluff and smut! 

wc: 1.4k    

According to Google, the scent of pumpkin was known to arouse men, especially when combined with the scent of lavender. So you lit a bunch of different candles, a few of both scents, plus dozens of smaller ones to line the windowsills. 

Chocolate is another aphrodisiac, as you’ve heard. You hand-dipped fresh strawberries in the fanciest chocolate money could buy, plating them up next two two champagne flutes and a chilled bottle of bubbly. It was the least you and Spencer deserved after weeks apart. 

Everything looked great, until he texted you at nine-thirty in the evening, at the time you were expecting his plane to land.

I’m so sorry, a massive storm came through. Plane never left. We’re getting back on now, hope to land in a few hours. 

Well, fuck. You were so prepared for him; all dressed up, glasses already poured, candles lit, and a set of new lingerie on.  

But it was only three hours. That’s all that separated you from Spencer, and after so many days, you could manage to busy yourself for a few hours. He was worth the wait. 

You passed eighty minutes by watching some tv, another twenty while playing a game on your phone, and twenty more by going back to the tv. Two hours down, one more to go. But you made the fatal mistake of having some of that champagne while you waited, and staying awake seemed harder to do with every passing minute.

With no coffee in the house to keep yourself up, you resorted to the internet again. The first search result was a listicle of tips and tricks:

1. Get Up and Walk Around  

Okay, done. And while you walked around, you also accomplished tip number four, “Eat a Healthy Snack to Boost Energy”. With a whole, peeled carrot in one hand, you paced around Spencer’s apartment while chomping on the vegetable for a good ten minutes. 

It worked, but only a little. So, you tried another item.

5. Start a Conversation to Wake Up Your Mind

It was a total bust. At goddamn eleven forty five in the evening, on a week night, not many people would be excited to pick up the phone. You tried a few numbers and all of them went to voice mail. 

On to the next one.

3. Give Your Eyes a Break

Okay, so no screens. You put your phone down, shut the television off, and walked over to Spencer’s bookcase. Running your fingers along their spines, you were in awe of how many books he had. It was too many to pick from, so instead, you went to his bedside table and picked up the book he was last reading in bed. 

You almost fell into the trap of sitting in bed to read it. You knew if you did that, you’d fall asleep right away. So you took it to the couch, grabbing one of his sweaters off his armchair on the way, and tossing it overhead.

In a bid of hope, you never got out of that lingerie you put on for him, but now it was starting to get chilly. You promised yourself to take it off the second you heard his keys hit the door; he’d never have to know you were anything less than the perfectly seductive piece you were dressed up as. 

But, Jesus fucking Christ. Spencer reads some boring books.

Not boring, maybe, but ones that have words just in the damn title that you don’t even understand. You strained your mind through four of the pages, which took at least another twenty minutes anyways, and decided that was more than enough. 

You checked your phone again, hoping for a miracle. And it came to you in the form of a text from Spencer.

Just landed! 

Got news that all the roads are blocked off. Trains are closed, Morgan’s gonna drive me home, but it could still take at least an hour :(

There wasn’t even a moment to be excited about the first part before you swiped out of the messages app and angrily pulled up that listicle again. All the other suggestions were rubbish; you weren’t going to go exercise in a snowstorm, there wasn’t any fucking sunlight at past midnight, and you’d already drank tons of water. 

There was one item on the list you hadn’t tried yet.

2. Take a Nap to Take the Edge Off Sleepiness

That was tempting. Spencer did say it would be another hour, and as he’s informed you many times before, a twenty-minute nap was all it took to get the optimal nap in. 

You caved. But you made sure to set your phone alarm for twenty minutes out, and yet another after that just in case. Fluffing Spencer’s sofa cushions up, you tucked one under your head and laid down.

-

You woke up just moments before Spencer came home. He walked in to find you waiting for him, clad in the hottest red lingerie he’d ever laid eyes on. After weeks of being apart, he didn’t have the time for words. He dropped his bags at the door and wordlessly stormed over, bringing his hands to either side of your face and gripping you tightly as he covered your mouth with his own. 

Your mouths worked furiously together, and his hands dropped low on your hips before throwing all caution to the wind and palming your ass. With both hands just below your ass, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to the wall and pinned you against it. Your pussy was leveled perfectly against his hard dick. He grinded himself against you, moaning at the sweet friction. His head was buried in your neck, sucking so deliciously. 

“Spencer,” you moaned his name, low and rolling, as he shifted your panties aside. “Mmm, feels so good baby.” 

He carefully set you down and dropped to his knees, putting his face between your legs instead. His tongue pressed along the length of your seam. You let your eyes close as you dropped your head back onto the wall.

“Fuck, Spencer!” you couldn’t stop moaning it. Every other breath became the sound of his name. 

And then, you felt a kiss on your forehead. And a palm on your shoulder. Your eyes flickered open, fully and for real this time.

Next thing you knew, Spencer was kneeling on the floor. Not between your legs, but by your side while you were laid out on the couch, gently shaking you awake.

“Hi,” he smiled as you finally blinked your eyes awake. “Havin’ a good dream, I hope?”

You grumbled, disappointed both that it wasn’t real, and that you’d fallen asleep. “No, no, it wasn’t supposed to be like this!” you pouted, sitting up. “I was supposed to wake up and, and –”

“Be ready for me?” He quirked a brow as he surveyed the room. 

There were dozens of blown-out candles under the open windows, carrying a cool evening breeze. An untouched plate of chocolate strawberries, and a less-untouched bottle of champagne. You, clad in something silky and red, that made you look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. And also, his chunky knit sweater. 

“I tried, I promise. I did everything, I even read that book of yours,” you gestured to it on the coffee table, barely cracked open.

“Well, it’s no wonder you fell asleep then,” he laughed. 

“I’m so sorry, Spence.” 

He only shook his head and pushed your shoulders back down until you were lying on the couch again. 

“Don’t apologize.” He pulled your knees closer to him, hooking the leg closest to him over his far shoulder and nestling himself inside. “To find my girlfriend waiting for me, in my home,” he stopped to kiss the inside of your knee, “in my sweater,” and then the other one, “and in this, too?” 

Spencer pushed up the hem of the sweater, exposing the fancy lingerie you had under. His large hands rested on your sides as he dove in to kiss your belly, right above the mesh garter belt you wore. From there, he kissed a line all the way down, stopping before reaching your panties.

“Well, that’s all I could’ve asked for.” He gave you a smirk before hooking one finger into your panties and pulling them to the side. He dragged his tongue over you. “So, why don’t you tell me what that dream was about?” 

[leetotters]

Im BEGGING you for a part two of the bday fic

i only wrote this because so much of ya'll asked and who am i to deny your requests, also i really am sorry for any mistakes! peter is like 21 here! gif isn't mine

adult!peter parker x reader

warnings: oral(male receiving), eating of food off body, riding

summary: part two to birthday boy

Peter placed the cherry pie on the plush bean bag, frosting his finger with whipped cream from the pie and rubbing it on your rock hard nipples once more.

"Fuck, your body makes everything taste better" Peter moaned delectably taking the bud into his mouth, unknotting the laces of his hotpants and plonking your nude body on the bed, making you grunt at the careless contact.

You wet your lips, eyes bulging at the sight of Peter's hardened cock slapping his lower abdomen when he unfettered his straining erection from its quod.

"Take a picture it'll last longer" Peter smirked, a shit eating grin plastering his fanciable features, you held back an eye roll, instead pulling Peter on the bed with your hand, and flipping him over so your bare pussy sat on his naked muscular torso.

"Happy" You kissed his clavicle, "Birthday" Your lips pressed to the spot right above his navel, "Petey" You clutched his cock in your hands, kissing his swollen mushroom looking tip, Peter let out a heaving breath, the small peck making him feel all fluttery inside.

You teasingly jutted your tongue out of your mouth, faintly licking the top of his length earning an unsteady gasp, Peter smacked your thigh, "No teasing me love" He grabbed the cherry pie, resting it beside your knee, "Eat this off of me" Peter stated, his tone solemn.

Your eyes dilated, all indecent images invading your mind, you wanted to do this since he smeared his birthday cake all over your body, "With pleasure, Pete" You grasped the pie, cheekily grinning at Peter, you turn the cover over, slathering the goody over Peter's defined abs to his throbbing cock.

Tossing the tray aside, you poked your tongue out, dancing it over Peter's stomach, collecting the cherry flavor on the tip of your tongue, you cleaned down to his cock where his erection was caked succulently.

"Gosh Pete" You grasped his length, pumping him before attaching your lips to his top, moaning out moreishly at the taste of his pre-cum and cherry pie melded together.

Peter hands fisted your hair in a ponytail whilst you sucked him off, airy groans and profanities leaving his thin lips as you went down on him, sucking him off as if his cock was your favorite flavored popsicle.

"Yes baby, taking my cock so well" Peter praised, his lips forming in an 'o' shape, you bobbed your head down his length, your hand dabbling his testicles while the other massage where you couldn't reach, you removed your mouth, spitting on his cock before attaching your mouth to his balls where your spit was slowly drizzling down.

"Fuck" Peter stuttered, completely enthralled by you, his hip thrusting up, spurting his jizz into your open mouth, he moaned lustily, his hands untangling from your hair to your back, where he gripped your shoulder tightly while you milked him out wholly.

You kept your mouth on his softening cock, your hands interlocking with his, the other jerking him off, you pulled back, eyes looking up at Peter who was panting unevenly, you spat on his cock, his come and your spit leaking down his erection, your tongue swirled collecting his come before swallowing the sapid tasting liquid.

"You taste so good birthday boy" You kissed Peters parted lips, he hummed, tasting himself on the top of your tongue, you climbed back on his naked lap, your pussy grinding on his dick making him painfully hard again.

Peter groaned, your wet pussy rubbing his cock made him feel those tingles in his stomach, he loved the way your pussy felt, "Baby, gonna ride my cock now" Peter declared already positioning his erection against your folds, moistening his tip with your juice before pushing in, making you moan into Peter's ears.

Peter loved your moans, he would do anything to hear those harmonic sounds and whimpers leave your pretty lips, "Fuck, your cunt is so tight love" Peter smirked when he felt you clench around him, he knew how you loved when he used dirty words.

You balanced yourself using Peter's broad shoulders, Peter started moving when you nodded your head, whines and whimpers bounced against the walls of the room, your warm pussy clinging onto Peter like your life deepened on it and Peter's cock thrusted up roughly, -he thought your pace was to slow for him- so he took it upon himself to take over, as much as he adored the way your warm walls wrapped around him, he was desperate to reach both of you to your deserving orgasm.

"I'm going to come" You choked out, voice soft and whiny, Peter hand found your waist, practically holding you down and snapping your hips to his in a belligerent pace, you gasped out so loud, you swore your voice cracked a little, Peter pushed his middle and index finger into your mouth, finger fucking your mouth while you gushed on his cock.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your tongue slowing down from swirling around Peter's fingers as you came, it wasn't like the others times, this was different, and you fucking loved it, you fell back, not able to keep yourself up, thankfully Peter caught you, pulling you back up so your head was smooshed on his shoulder.

Peter didn't stop though, riding out his high, his come spilled inside of you, coating your warm walls, he loved coming inside of you, feeling the way your pussy clenched and how your liquids mixed together as one, "Better not fall asleep on me now baby" Peter kissed your hot cheeks.

You squirmed trying to get off of Peter when he picked you up in his arms, "No Pete" You whined fully worn out, limp like a rag doll not being to move a single muscle, the only thing on your mind was sleep, you knew he was taking you to the washroom , so you mustered up a little strength, still holding on to Peter while you peed.

"Good girl" He praised, scooping you up in his arms once again laying you down on his bed, he cleaned between your thighs with his tongue of course, wiping the remaining juices with a warm cloth, he threw away the empty tray that lied on the ground before he got into bed, cradling your naked frame in his burly chest.

Peter kissed the crown of your head, admiring your sleeping figure, he was giving you an hour to rest yourself before he went in for another round, he still had half a day left for his birthday, and he was going to make it a worthwhile.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter Three}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta sat across the kitchen table in Azriel and Elain’s kitchen, looking at her sister.

“I mean, I just don’t get it,” Nesta continued, shaking her head. “Me and Cassian… Why didn’t they choose you and Azriel? You’ve been together forever and want a big family.”

“You’re second guessing taking care of Nyx?” Elain asked, with no judgement, just curiosity.

“No, of course not,” Nesta began, sighing. “It’s just… Me and Cassian?”

“They did try to set you two up all those years ago,” Elain said, propping an elbow on the table and dropping her chin in her hand.

Nesta raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “And how well did that work out?”

Elain rolled her eyes, but sighed. “Feyre was right though,” she said, looking at the letter from Rhys and Feyre, laying face down on the table. Nesta had brought it over for Elain to read, which had just made them both start crying over again. “You have the fiercest heart. Nyx needs you in his life.”

She blinked away the tears lining her eyes again. Silently, she wondered when she’d be able to think about her sister, about Rhys again, without dissolving into tears. She knew it would be a long while.

Finally, she said, “I know he does. I just don’t understand why Cassian has to be involved. That’s not going to be a healthy environment for him to grow up in.”

She could already see it, she and Cassian at each other’s throats. He knew how to get under her skin, loved to do it, did it as often as he could. It would be all Nyx saw as he grew up, his guardians screaming at each other.

“He needs to be somewhere happy and loving and peaceful. Like here, Lainy. He’d flourish here, with you and Az and Seph.”

Elain gave her sister a long, wistful look. Her eyes were soft and misty when she said, “We’re just learning to take care of one, Nes. I can’t… We can’t take on another infant. And, besides, it wasn’t what Feyre and Rhys wanted.”

“They probably wrote that the second they got engaged,” Nesta said, knowing that wasn’t true. “They didn’t know what they wanted.” Elain glanced at the open letter that sat on the table between them. “I read it. They knew exactly what they wanted for Nyx in case something happened to them, and I think that they were right. Just because you and Cassian can’t see it doesn’t mean that it’s not a good idea.”

“The lawyer will disagree with that,” Nesta muttered, remembering Tarquin’s words from their meeting. I tried to advise them against this. She shivered. “The thought of living with Cassian and playing house has me nauseous. And pissed off. So pissed off that I’m nauseous.”

Elain sighed again. “He really is a-.”

“A good guy,” Nesta interrupted, letting her head fall into her hands. Her fingers tugged in the roots slightly. “I know. You keep telling me that. Feyre always told me that. Everyone keeps telling me that. But the two of us?” She looked up at Elain, letting her see into those eyes that matched Feyre’s perfectly, letting her see the slight panic in them, letting her see everything. “We aren’t compatible. Everything about him, it throws me off.”

A cry from down the hall had both of the women standing, but when Nesta realized it was Nyx, she hurried out of the kitchen. In a flash, she was in the spare room, crossing to the small crib Elain and Az had set up for Feyre and Rhys when they found out they were pregnant.

Nyx’s blue eyes were wide and he let out another tortured wail and Nesta tried to soothe him before he was even in her arms. “It’s okay, bubba,” she cooed, holding him against her chest. He kept crying, though the volume of his screams lessened. Instead they were more akin to what Nesta would have almost called sobs.

“It’s been a long day,” she breathed. “I think we should go home, yeah?”

She gathered his diaper bag from where it laid on the bed and when she entered the living room, Elain was sitting on the couch, reading over the letter again. Quiet tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m gonna get him home,” Nesta said, softly. She repeated, “It’s… It’s been a long day.”

Nodding, Elain folded the letter back up and wiped at the tears on her face with the back of her hand. “Right.” She held the letter out to Nesta, who took it, careful not to jostle Nyx who had finally quieted down, though Nesta could tell he was still awake.

His little hand was pressed to the side of her neck, and she could feel it moving gently.

“Call me if you need anything,” Elain said, carefully hugging her and pressing a kiss to the top of Nyx’s head. “Az and I will help you move what you need to into the house, so don’t hesitate to ask.”

Nesta could only nod, still unsure of how she was going to do this, how she was going to live her life, while also taking care of the far more precious one in her arms. She silently left, driving home and getting Nyx inside and settled, letting him sit in the Bumbo seat she’d found in the kitchen atop the counter while she cooked dinner.

After putting him down for bed, Nesta found herself sitting on the balcony off of Rhys and Feyre’s old bedroom. She looked out into the small wood that made up their backyard, over the pool and chairs that had been set up for the approaching summer, but her eyes were drawn up to the stars that Velaris was famous for.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, not sure if she was admitting it to herself or to Rhys and Feyre, listening to her wherever they were. “I’m so scared I’ll do something wrong.”

The sounds of crickets and other manner of nighttime creatures were the only reply she received.

“I know you believed in me, in us, but I don’t. I want to make you both proud but I don’t know if I can do that. I just need something to tell me that I’m not making a huge mistake and-.

She softly gasped as a shooting star went blazing across the sky, a second one following it right after.

Her lip trembled as she nodded up at the night sky, understanding, knowing who had sent those stars. She almost felt like she could feel them there, as if they were telling her that it would be hard, but she could do it.

And she… she didn’t have to do it alone.

*

Cassian wasn’t at Az and Elain’s for thirty seconds before he crossed to the mini-fridge Azriel kept stocked in the garage.

“There’s no way they thought this was a good idea,” he said, pacing around, Azriel silently watching him. “It’s a sick joke, just like all of this is. There’s another letter somewhere that says just kidding, wouldn’t that be funny though?”

He cracked open the beer and drank it all in one go.

“I mean, Rhys and I always messed around and shit, but…this is too far,” he went on, tossing the can in the garbage and reaching for another one.

Azriel crossed his arms as he said, “Too many of those and you may think it’s funny, too.”

Cassian shot him a look as he drank from his can. “This isn’t funny. None of this is funny.”

Azriel took a deep breath before saying, “Did you stop to think that maybe they knew exactly what they were doing?”

Cassian said nothing as he propped himself on a stool and shook his head. Azriel didn’t push him. Eventually, Cassian said, quietly, “I want to help Rhys. I want to be the man that he thought I was. I mean, shit, he left me in charge of his child. And I would die for that child. But, Nesta was right, you know? I have no idea how to take care of a kid, especially one as young as Nyx.”

“You think I did, when Seph came along?” He asked, leaning back against the workbench. Cassian was as comfortable in this garage as he was his own, had created just as many beautiful things here as he had in his own cramped space. But he focused on Azriel’s words, sighed as he listened to his brother.

“I was scared shitless, but that didn’t mean a thing to her, or to Elain,” he went on. “Because they both needed me. They needed me to get my shit together and figure it out, and that’s exactly what I did.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his feet, at his dirty work boots and silently drank from the can in his hands.

Azriel crossed the garage and pulled out a beer of his own, cracking it open and taking a drink. “So read the books, do the research, go online, do whatever you have to do, but Cassian, listen to me.”

His brother rarely used his full name, so he looked up at him, nor expecting to find the tenderness on his face or the silver lining his eyes.

“If you think for one second that Rhys and Feyre didn’t know what they were doing, you’re wrong. No one loves that little boy as much as you do. Yeah, you’re probably going to fuck up once or twice, but it’s okay.” Azriel placed a hand on his shoulder. “It happens and as long as you learn from it, that’s all that matters.”

Cassian wiped at his eye with the back of his hands. “I’m fucking scared, man.”

“I know you are,” Az replied, his voice dropping, almost gentle. “Not to mention we’re all still hurting. But you and Nesta are going to be fine, Nyx is going to be fine.”

Cassian clamped his eyes shut. He groaned. “It wouldn’t be so bad, I know I can learn to take care of Nyx, but Nesta? They expect me to live with Nesta?”

Azriel actually hesitated. “Yeah, that sucks.”

Cassian, despite himself, laughed quietly. “Yeah.”

“But, believe it or not, I think she’d be good for you,” Azriel said, keeping that quiet tone.

“Now you’re trying to set us up?” Cassian asked, wiping at his eyes and the tears that had nearly fallen.

Azriel shook his head. “No. But, Nesta Archeron gets shit done. And she loves Nyx, too. The two of you together….different parenting styles? Yeah. But, you’d be surprised at how well two opposites balance each other out when it comes to parenting.”

Cassian thought of Azriel and Elain. They were both gentle and kind, but they were pretty opposite, too.

“And if it’s a complete failure?” Cassian asked.

Azriel sighed as he watched Cassian. At last, he said, “It won’t be.”

Cassian wanted to believe him, wanting to feel confident in the words Azriel said, but even his third beer hadn’t lifted his confidence.

He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling, at the garage door that was raised to allow the cool, night breeze in. “I have to live with Nesta Archeron. The Mother thinks she’s funny. The Cauldron is laughing at me. Fate is rubbing its hands together and laughing maniacally.”

“No,” Az chuckled. “I think that might be Rhys.”

Cassian snorted, but the door to the house opened and Elain stuck her head out. She smiled softly at Cassian, who raised his drink in greeting. “I thought I heard you out here. You gonna stay for dinner?”

His alternative was grabbing something from a drive through or searching through his fridge for something that wasn’t completely freezer burned, so he smiled and said, “Sure, Lainy. Thanks.”

She beamed at them both and the door clicked shut behind her as she turned to go back to the kitchen. Cassian looked over at Azriel to find him still smiling like a fool at the door.

He sighed quietly as he realized he would probably never have that, would never have someone he could stare after and gaze at as fondly as Azriel did Elain. Not if he was to spend his life shackled to someone who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

As soon as he thought the words, he chastised himself, stepping out into the driveway. She was just as miserable about the whole ordeal as he was. But for Nyx, they could try and make it work. They would make it work. They would do what they had to.

He sighed, gazing up into the night sky.

Shaking his head, he wondered if there was some sort of afterlife. If there was, he wondered if Rhysand and Feyre were somewhere in the sky, looking down at him, trying to encourage him, trying to get a message to him during this horrible, hectic, anxiety-ridden unknown time.

He hoped they were.

He could use it.

That encouragement.

That love.

Cassian began raising his can to his lips, but then he froze.

A shooting star shot across the night sky.

Then another.

Cassian’s hand fell back to his side as he stared at the bright Velaris starlight, completely in awe.

They were watching, they were there with him. They were there with all of them.

Of course they were.

Cassian swore under his breath as he fully gave into the ridiculous notion of moving in with Nesta, of co-parenting with the most frustrating, stubborn woman in Prythian.

But for Nyx, he would.

For Rhysand, for Feyre, he would.

[please-buckme]

The View From The Fire Escape. (3/3)

Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff

A/n: WOW, keeping this gn!reader was so hard, especially when he talks to his therapist! :/ I hope you guys enjoyed it and I’d love your feed back on it! I also wrote this with a headache, so if it sucks im so sorry. Love you guys <3 thank you for the support.

Part 1 // Part 2

The days dragged on, your body aching from head to toe. Mostly from your job, you’d been working doubles to avoid any sort of interaction with Bucky. Only your lower back was sore from the ‘incident’, physically. Mentally you were hurt and confused.

Hurt because you didn’t understand. Why would he do such a thing? If there was something wrong, why didn’t he tell you before it got too far? And if he didn’t want you in that way, why lead you on like a fool? Some many questions ran through your mind that you wanted answers to. The problem was, you were sort of scared of Bucky now.

And you were confused because he never really made an effort to apologize. He said it on his way out of your apartment, but since then.. nothing. No call or a text, even though a text would’ve set you off; how cowardly. You find yourself daydreaming of him coming to your door, getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness. He hadn’t though. He smiles at you through his window kind of like he’s asking you to come to the fire escape, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You liked Bucky, you really did. After it happened, though, you realized you knew nothing about him. Sure, you know little things like his favorite beer and how self conscious he is sometimes, or how he changes the subject when you two start reminiscing on old times. The only thing you knew about his past is, he was a momma's boy, outgoing and he loved his best friend; he talked about him all the time.

That was it though. You felt like an open book to him and got nothing in return. You still didn’t know what happened to his arm; he wasn’t just born with a freaking metal arm. And you still had no idea why he lashed out at you.

The more you thought about it, though, the less you wanted to speak or even seen him again. You just wanted to become strangers to each other again, as if you aren’t already.

//

“Tell me what happened.” Bucky’s therapist was calm, even with all the tension coming from Bucky.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Then why are you here?” She raised an eyebrow in question.

“Because I have to be.” He answered bluntly.

“Is it the nightmares?” She asked with a sigh, getting tired of the game they play every time he has a session; it’s like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk.

“Not really. I mean, they’re part of it but no.”

His therapist leans in slowly, worry spreading across her face, “Tell me what’s going on, Bucky.”

Bucky groans, “I think- I think I’m falling for someone.” He readjusts, now feeling exposed and a little vulnerable.

“That’s good, isn't it?”

“It was.. until I fucked it all up.” He runs both hands through his hair. “That’s all I’m good at, fucking up every good thing that comes my way.”

“Breathe and tell me what happened.” She clicks her pen and settles into her chair as she waits for Bucky to speak.

“The notebook? Come on, I’m cooperating.”

“I’m just going to write down their name and anything that may come off alarming. It’s your first relationship since the 1940’s and since being the Winter Soldier. I’m hoping what you’re going to tell me isn’t as bad as I think it is.” She sighs again, flipping open the notebook now. “Did you hurt them?”

“No.. well-“

“Well?” She asks. Bucky hears her breath hitch and he hates it. She knows he’s a killer. She knows he can kill someone with his bare hands and not even flinch, because he has. He isn’t that guy anymore, though and he wants to prove it. Has to prove it. If not to her or y/n then to himself.

“We were.. ya know, well not exactly. I mean we were about to and I might have, accidentally, lashed out. It’s all a blur now. All I know is, one minute they were there on top of me and then on the floor. I guess I have a trigger when someone holds me down.”

“So you had a panic attack?” She’s now writing.

“Yeah..”

“And then what happened?”

“Could you stop writing, please. I can hear the scribbling as if you’re etching something into my skull. It’s very annoying.”

“Stay on topic. What’d you do after saying them on the floor?”

“I left, okay? I apologized and I left.” He stands from his seated position and paces the floors of her office.

“When did all this happen?”

“Two weeks ago today.” He runs his hands over his face in frustration and exhaustion. Since that day the nightmares were on overdrive. As if his mind stores special, horrible memories just to torcher him.

He sees y/n time to time through their windows but that’s it. No more friendly chats to help him through his darkest nights. No more y/n and that heavenly smile even on a long day's night.

Everything is just as it was before. Just Bucky and his thoughts, a dangerous combination. His eyes well up with tears, the feeling of loneliness taking over his entire body.

“Earth to Bucky?” The therapist shouts, snapping her fingers.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’d seen this person since that day.” She reiterated.

“Oh.. uh, no. I mean, yes. I see them but we haven’t spoken.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m scared. I don’t want them to look at me like I’m a monster. I’m not who I used to be I- I’m good now. I just want them to see that.” A tear threatens to fall before he wipes it away on the back of his gloved hand. “I want to be a good person.”

The woman sighs and stands from her chair. She walks over to Bucky, tapping him on the shoulder until he turns around.

“If you really like this person, talk to them. It’s the only way to get through this. If they really like you, they’ll be patient and understanding. You’ll never know how they truly feel until you talk to them face-to-face. Our times up. Go.”

//

It was Thursday and it just so happens to be your first day off in two weeks. You’d plan to do nothing but sleep and watch awful rom coms in between the sleeping portion of the day. It was around 5pm. The sun was setting and you were on rom com number three; ‘Definitely, maybe’. You were close to tears when the doorbell rang. “Who is it?” You holler from the couch.

“It’s.. uh, it’s me, Bucky.” He could hear your heart pounding in your chest. This was a mistake. You were already frightened and you hadn’t even opened the door yet.

“Oh, I don’t think-“

“You don’t have to let me in,” he assured you. “Just.. listen or don’t. It’s totally up to you.” He waited for a response, but when you said nothing he took that as a ‘I’m listening’ and continued, “I fucked up, y/n. I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I did, but I swear to god if I could I would. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me for the rest of your life, but you gotta know something. I really like you. I’m over the moon for you. I can’t stop thinking about you and your beautiful smile or how gentle and patient you are with people and not just me.

“You’ve never asked me about my past or where I come from. You’ve always liked me for me, who I am right now. I’ll never find anyone who sees me for me the way you do and I’ll do anything. Anything. To get your trust back. Just give me another chance, please.”

You stared at the door, speechless. The desperation in his voice is tearing you apart. He hadn’t explained what actually happened, but you know in time he will. There were many things you needed to talk about, but for right now all you wanted was him.

He stood at your door leaning his forehead against it in defeat. He knows you're still there but couldn’t be sure if you were actually listening or if you were still nervous with his presents in your doorway. He bit his lip as he waited for any sort of movement or noise, other than your heart beat.

He sighs in defeat, “okay, I’ll go.”

“Bucky wait..” you say, seeing him halfway down the hall. “I hear what you’re saying and you’re right, I do like you for who you are. But I need to know about your past and why in the world you have a metal arm.” You huff out a laugh, “You can’t hide who you were just because you’re ashamed. I want to be your rock, I want to be the person you come to after every nightmare. I want all of you, including your past.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Bucky’s inches away from you now, taking your right hand into his metal one. “I want you to be my future and if that means showing you my past, so be it.”

You smile up at him and let out a sigh of relief, “god, I missed you.”

Bucky kisses you gently, running his flesh hand through your hair. “I missed you too.” He said, never leaving your lips. “I was also the Winter Soldier.”

“WHAT?”

Fin

//

Masterlist

Taglist: @haydens-moles @valkyrieofthehighfae @aurora-sweet @hoeforcuteguyswithcharmingsmiles @sebbystanlover-vk @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @nebulastarr @meegggoooo @skylerrae-solo @wintersoldiersthings @blondekel77 @gogolucky13 @buckysm3talarm @heavenlyseb @writersbuck @badassbuchanan @buckyownsmylife @buckysdolls @notwithoutbarnes @cherryblossomskye @ladyfallonavenger @drinkfantasy @tonystankschild @tfandtws @osterfieldshollandgirl

[atalho-s]

Light Up The Dark

Part 1 | June

pairing: bartender!tom x famous!reader

warnings: some smut +18 (in this particular chapter it’s nothing TOO explicit, but miniors be aware), swear words?, drinking, let me know if anything else!

words: 4.9 k

summary: y/n is a famous horror writer. Her books are on the lips of the people and her face is on all the magazine covers of promising young people.

She has just moved to Los Angeles, the city of celebrities and luxury, when she starts to get a writer's block as she starts writing her newest book. A way to distract herself and seek inspiration leads her to have her destiny mapped out with a simple waiter named Tom who has a delicious british accent.

What happens when her inspiration comes back only after she spends a night with him and she only manages to write after being in the company of that guy she just met? Maybe he'll become her newest addiction.

a/n: english it’s not my first language, so i’m sorry for any mistake! this is a series i started writing a while ago, i hope y’all enjoy :) the reader it’s from brazil here, but you can replace from any country you want lol And obv i’m not from LA and never been there, so if i say something out of reality it’s bc of that 😂

"June arrived at the restaurant, sat down near the bar and looked around vaguely. The strange people's faces made her think better and maybe drink a shot of tequila too.

She opened his folder with the horrifying photos of the mysterious case. She felt sick to her stomach.

People said that by then she should have been used to see this kind of thing, but that was repulsive.

She wish the nightmare she had the night before was a way to solve that puzzle, but believing in the afterlife now wouldn't help her... If...If..."

- Damn it... - Y/n slammed her fist on the table. - Writer's block sucks. - She said and took the last sip of her tea.

It s been a week since she couldn't write anything. She would write maybe two paragraphs, maybe even three if she got lucky, but she always ended up erasing it, because she always turned into something meaningless or too cliche.

Damn the time she had promised to deliver something to her editor by the end of the month. But she hadn't counted on the lack of ideas when she agreed to that.

She got up from her chair in frustration and crossed her arms, pacing, as if her creativity had gone out for a walk and she was waiting impatiently for it to come back.

Why had she agreed to write a new book in the first place? She didn't need money. Their previous four books were already making huge profits, and they were going to make a new television series based on one of them.

So why writing another one? Maybe because, she had been having too many nightmares lately. Many family and friends told her to see a psychologist, see if she didn't have some hidden trauma. But looking for a psychologist? Admitting your weaknesses and personal things to a stranger? Never. That would be horrifying.

Writing helped. Transferring his fears to pages was hers gift. When she wrote she didn't have nightmares, didn't see things, wasn't sad. It was like a drug, a calming medicine.

Maybe fame was also making her restless lately. She hated being the spotlight, being the magazine cover of promising young people. She hated to see her name highlighted. But she loved having readers, yes. She loved when someone felt good reading her books or in the good sense of the word: terrified by her stories.

At the height of her 25 years, he never thought her books would become famous at that point. She had always enjoyed writing since she was a child, but working with it was just an unattainable dream. Until, at age 19, she quit her hideous job as a hotel receptionist and decided to publish her first story.

Obviously there were many rejections, until a publisher agreed to publish their work. From then on, her books became more and more known. They called her the new horror genius, the mystery queen, and sometimes even "Stephen King's lost daughter."

She didn't think it was all that. But she accepted the descriptions gladly. No wonder her books didn't come out of the top spot on the best sellers.

Another thing that motivated her to continue with that story, was a phrase from her own idol mentioned, Stephen King: "good stories are those that stay in the head for a long time". And God only knew how that story had been with her for far too long. She always wanted to put it down on paper, so here she was trying to put into words what her head brought up as random thoughts.

But now she was having one of his first creative blocks. Obviously she had already had it with previous books, but nothing as frustrating as this one. She had been trying hard for days, which was exhausting.

She looked at the clock on the wall: 11pm. Who knows if she took another break before starting writing again? Maybe it would help to come up with more ideas.

She thought about watching a show or movie, but he wasn't in the mood. She looked at her long polka dot pajamas under her favorite warm robe and snorted. Go out? On a Thursday night? On a cold night? No way.

But what if it helped her have more writing material? Watching people on the street really helped. If June, the character in her book, was in a bar, maybe if she went to one too it would help to have something to build on.

Writers did it all the time. Describe places that already existed, situations similar to which they lived. So, it wouldn't be new. Maybe she'd even put the location in her tribute if helped she got out of her creative block.

She took a deep breath and went to take a shower. It was decided, she would go out. She put on her best jeans, a Ramones T-shirt with a leather jacket. It wasn't a fancy outfit, but she didn't intend to go somewhere fancy anyway. Her stylist would have been dying to see her now, but she didn't care one bit.

She went out pressing the bottom of the elevator. Y/n had lived on the top floor of a building for 2 months, right in downtown Los Angeles. Sometimes she didn't even know why she chose to live there, she hated the big city and what came with it: paparazzi, celebrities, crazy people who feel superior, wealth and luxury. She came from a humble family, so she always felt like an outsider.

Y/n arrived downstairs and left the condominium calling a taxi that was passing in the street just in time. She walked in and closed the door, crossing her arms, trying to ward off the cold.

- Good night miss, where are you going? - the driver asked looking at her in the rearview mirror.

- Good night... Actually I don't know, do you have any suggestions for a bar around here?- she asked looking out the window. She didn't even bother to look for suggestions for places nearby.

- Well, it depends on what you're looking for... Something luxurious or something fun? - He said and a smiled played on the corer of her mouth. Luxurious was the opposite of fun indeed.

- Something fun, of course.

- So, I suggest the new Seven Devils bar, it's less than 20 minutes from here... - he said.

- Interesting name... Could be. - She said shrugging.

- The name is kinda creepy, but the place is cozy and welcoming, I went once. - the driver said starting and entering the street that was practically empty for being a weekday.

- Cool... - Y/n said looking at the city lights through the window.

After nearly twenty minutes the taxi stopped in front of what appeared to be a small door with a security guard in front of it. The neon sign indicated the name of the place, it seemed a mysterious place for those who passed by without knowing it.

- Thanks. - Y/n said handing the driver the money.

- You're not the Y/n Y/l/n? I didn't want to say anything, but I'm a fan of you, I love your books, they help me pass the time while I wait for passengers. - the driver asked turning a little with one of the Y/n books in his hand. - Could you sign this for me?

- Sure! - Y/n spoke excitedly taking the book from his hand and leaving a message along with her signature. - Thanks for the tip of the place. Have a good night... - She said opening the door.

- No, thank you, have a good night miss. -he said and she smiled closing the door and the taxi left leaving her alone looking at the door in front of her.

She approached the security guard who wished her good night, giving her room to enter, after she showed her ID. Y/n entered a little afraid of what she would find. The door behind her closed and she looked around. It was really cozy as the taxi driver said, it had a part with several tables, which were a little empty and a bar with stools around. The place had a good atmosphere, one of those that people go there to meet and chat with friends, in the background there was a kind of pop song that she wasn't sure if she knew or not.

He slowly approached the bar and sat down on one of the stools. A woman with several tattoos appeared behind the counter and came to serve her.

- Good night! How can I serve you?- she asked with a smile.

- Good night... Hm... Maybe a martini? - Y/n said taking a look at the drinks on the shelf behind the attendant.

- Okay, I'll be back with your order, anything else?

- That's it for now, thanks. - She replied smiling and the attendant walked away.

Y/n kept looking around, watching people, maybe looking for some inspiration. Something that would turn the key in his mind. Many who were there were in groups of friends and were talking animatedly, laughing. Some young and some older, in suits and ties, perhaps coming out of work.

Until one guy in particular caught her attention. He wore the black uniform with the name of the place, with an apron tied around the waist of the same color, and was picking up some glasses from some empty tables. He had dark brown hair slicked back and eyes the same color, very expressive and large. A boy's face from the outside, but on the inside had a mysterious and confident air.

He balanced a tray full of things with an greatest skill in one hand and smiled at some people, he seemed charming because everytime he left a table he left people whispering and giggling embarrassed behind his back.

He walked over and entered the bar placing the tray behind the counter, came close to the other attendant who already had the Y/n martini ready and she could hear him talking, soon realizing he had a perfect accent.

- Sally, you can leave it to me, go take your break. Whose martini is it?- he asked taking a look around.

- Oh thank you, my feet are killing me. It's the girl over there. -she said indicating Y/n with her head and he looked at her, making Y/n realize that she was staring at him for too long, so she looked away embarrassed.

- Okay. - he said looking at where Y/n was sitting and stopped in front of her with the glass. - Good night miss, here is your order. - He spoke with a british accent. Only at that moment did Y/n realize that his accent was well loaded and God only knows how much she loved that accent.

- Oh yes, thank you very much. - She said raising her eyes to look at him and smiled then he blinked with one of his eyes and gave her one more look, before going to deliver another order to a man who was sitting a few benches away.

Y/n felt a shiver all of a sudden, that boy had made her legs a little weak and she didn't really know why. I mean, he was handsome, very handsome and he had a special charm, but it wasn't that much, was it? Maybe it was because it had been a while since she'd dated anyone. When was the last time? Two months ago? Since she had moved in she hadn't gone out with anyone, she had locked herself in her apartment and was writing like crazy. She didn't have time to go out, not even with her friends when she was working on a new book. Which brought them dissatisfaction from time to time, not just because she didn't hang around with them, but because she didn't even go out on one-night stands.

She never been the one that going out with a guy just for sex, she had to have some good first dates and maybe she would take him to see her apartment or go to his apartment. Friends of hers thought she was too old in her spirit, but what can he do? If she couldn't be bad girl once in a while. For a moment she thought, "For this english guy I would be" but shook her head away from the thoughts. She went back to analyzing him, dammit why did he have to be so fit? She could see that the T-shirt he was wearing highlighted his muscles that were only left to her imagination, she found herself biting her lip a bit and snatching her martini off the counter, taking a big sip.

The attendant approached again, drying some glasses with a towel, and took one more look in her direction where she looked away quickly making him smirk. He stopped in front of her again, bracing her arms on the counter, making her swallow hard. He didn't know why she was so nervous, he was just a guy, no biggie.

- I like the shirt. - He pointed with a smile, which made her think he had a beautiful and endearing smile. She looked down and then looked at him smiling too.

- Thank you... Ramones is everything... - she said and drank the last sip of her drink placing the empty glass in front of her right after. - Can you serve one more?

- Sure...- he said, still smiling, took the bottle and filled his glass again. - Trying to distract yourself on a thursday night?

- Yeah... you could say yes... - she said taking another sip. - Have you worked here for a long time?

- In fact, it's been almost six months since I moved to the United States and I've been working here for four months. -he said putting the towel that was in his hand on his shoulder.

- Hm... You're from London?

- I am, wow how did you find out? - he asked raising an eyebrow playfully and she smiled.

- Yeah, your accent really doesn't give out anything ... - she said and he gave a low laugh making her have more goose bumps.

- You also have a different accent, have you lived here for a long time? - he didn't know who she was, which was good. But it also wasn't like she was recognized all the time, despite her face being on magazine covers, she was still a writer, so she was only recognized by those who liked to read or who vaguely remembered her face.

- I was born in Brazil actually, but I've lived here for years, lived in another city for almost five years and now I've decided to come to Los Angeles two months ago...

- I see ... - he said organizing some drinks that were on the counter. - Do you like it here?

- More or less... It's a busy city, isn't it?

- Yeah, it's not for anyone. - He said shrugging. - I like it, I like the rush, but the glamor part really isn't me. - the attendant said and she smiled.

- You're right... I mean, I don't like the glam too much either... - She looked away at her nails.

- What do you work with? - he asked and she looked at him again.

- I'm a writer...

- Nice! What do you write? - He asked curious looking at her with attention.

- I write horror and thriller books.

- Interesting... I would never read, actually I'm not much of a reader anyway, but I wouldn't, because I'm terrified of those things. - He said crossing his arms and she laughed.

- Oh, it's not that terrifying, it's just stories. - She said leaning her elbows on the counter.

- Still, I prefer to have my good night's sleep intact. - He said and she laughed making him smile looking at her.

When she was about to say something, a customer signaled for him and he excused himself going towards the man who was furthest away.

Y/n sighed. She still didn't have any new ideas about her story, but she was entertained by that conversation. She liked not being recognized, she liked him not being interested in her books, for a moment she felt oblivious to anything, liked feeling disconnected from her world.

He returned shortly after and they started talking again. They talked about bands, movies, superficial celebrities and even politics (an important topic in Y/n's vision, who was very firm with her ideas, thankfully he had passed the test). She found out that he was the same age as her and that he moved to the US to look for something that would give him money or a perspective on life, ended up getting that job and intended to stay until he found a different area. The hours passed and they kept finding subjects to give their opinion or questions to ask each other.

- Did you go to college? - she asked after a while.

- No, I don't think I'm smart enough for that, or have the patience. What about you?

- Everyone is smart enough. I started going to business school, but I dropped out when my books started to pay off...

- Wow, your books should give you a good amount of money to be able to drop out of college and dedicate yourself to them...

- Yeah... You could say that. - She shrugged.

- You know looking at you closer like that...- he said getting a little closer and she held her breath for a moment. - I've seen you somewhere...

- Really? - She said raising her eyebrow and drinking from a straw, now with a different drink.

- I don't know, you're not strange to me... - he said putting his hand on his face thoughtfully.

- Well, I hope it's from somewhere nice. - She smiled and he smiled back looking at her. - Do you have a girlfriend or are you married? - Y/n asked and regretted a little, what was she thinking? He wasn't married, as he didn't have a ring on his finger as she'd noticed. But what was her intention by asking that question? She didn't even know, she just knew it had escaped her.

- Neither darling. - He replied smiling a little mischievously and she felt butterflies with the way he called her by that nickname and with that accent. - How about you?

- Neither ... - She replied avoiding looking at him, those eyes hypnotized her and she didn't like to feel at his mercy of a guy she had just met. She took the cell phone disguising but paid attention to the time. - My God, it's already 2:00 in the morning! I completely missed the time.

- I think the company ended up distracting you. - He said still not taking his eyes off her and she felt her cheeks heat up.

- Yeah, the chat was really good... But I have to go... - she said getting up.

- If you wait I can take you home, I'm already leaving, the bar is already closing. - he said and Y/n looked around seeing that some waiters were already collecting some things from the tables.

She thought for a moment, take a ride home with him? It didn't make sense, she had just met him, but at the same time she had enjoyed talking to him so much. He didn't seem like a bad person, but even so you would never know for sure. At the same time she never took any chances, why not let that pretty boy take her home? Finally, she thought: you know what? Screw this.

-Erm, ok...- She shrugged. - I'll go to the cashier to pay and wait for you outside?

- No need to pay darling, it's on me. - He spoke winking and she smiled.

- Oh no, I'll pay no problem...

- Your company has paid off your debt, it's ok. - He replied and she took a deep breath rolling her eyes.

- If you insist...- she said giving up.

He came out from behind the counter and motioned for her to follow him, arriving at the front door where the security was.

- Tuwaine, you can let her pass, it's on me. - He told the big guy and he looked at the english man, sawing his eyes suspiciously and smiling right away. Making Y/n laugh inside.

- Meet you outside? It will only take a few minutes - the attendant said and she nodded, leaving in the cold night.

She leaned against the door with her thoughts. She had come here just to get inspiration and to have her creative back, but she was coming home with an english guy. She didn't even recognize herself anymore, but to say she wasn't anxious (in a good way) was a lie.

She was lost in her thought, until minutes later he came out wearing a denim jacket, which made him look even more handsome.

- Let's go? - He said and she followed him to an old car parked right in front of the bar.

He opened the door for her to get in and she thanked him by sitting in the passenger seat, pulling on her seat belt as he closed the door. He sat down next to her right away, also putting on his belt.

- Hey, before we go: I didn't ask for your name! If you're going to take me home at least I have to know that- she asked realizing that she didn't even know that yet and he looked towards her smiling.

- Tom Holland. - He said stretching his hand. - Nice to meet you.

- Y/n Y/l/n- she said, squeezing his hand. And you can't deny that she felt butterflies in her stomach as she felt her skin on hers.

- Your name is not strange to me, I must have read it in one of your books in some shop window. - He said starting and leaving with the car.

- Yeah, who knows ... - she said and he turned on the radio leaving the volume low.

They were exchanging a few words until she indicated that they had arrived at the building where she lived. Tom parked and looked up in a daze.

- Wow, you really have money... - he said and she took off her belt turning towards him.

- A little bit...- she replied crossing her arms. - Well, thank you so much for the ride...

- You're welcome darling. - He said turning his eyes to her. Again that nickname that sounded perfect on his lips.

She turned around, but when she was about to open the door, she turned back to Tom, who was leaning with one hand on the steering wheel and watching her with attention. The next words escaped her again and she was afraid she'd regret it.

- Tom, do you want to come in? - She spoke still holding the door and the boy smiled.

- Sure ... - he said taking the key from the ignition and she shook her head slightly leaving.

He followed her and they entered the building. Tom looked at everything admired which made Y/n smile a little to herself. They entered the elevator and she pressed the penthouse button causing him to raise an eyebrow.

- You really must be a great writer. - he said and she laughed.

He leaned his back against the elevator wall, putting his hands in his pocket and looking her up and down, making her shy. He kept looking at her and it was making her nervous.

They were silent until the elevator opened after a while and they got out. Y/n put a password on the door and it swung open with a small click, she took held the latch and motioned for Tom to enter.

After the two of them entered she closed the door again behind her and watched Tom standing further on, looking around.

- Nice apartment...- he finally said.

- Thank you... - She leaned against the table at the entrance. She didn't know what to do next, maybe it had been a bad idea to bring him here. Why was she so impulsive that night? -Tom, I don't know why I invite you in, sorry...-she said a little nervous looking at her feet. He turned towards her, approaching and stopping in front of her.

- Are you sure you don't know? - He asked and she raised her head, seeing those brown eyes. She bit her bottom lip watching him closely. Damn he knew how to hypnotize her. He took another step and placed a hand on either side of her on the table, cornering her - Your body says otherwise, love... - he said softly feeling her breath hitch slowly and approaching his face to hers, alternating the look of your eyes to her lips. Y/n found another nickname that was perfect when he say.

He finally closed the distance by pressing his lips to hers. His lips were soft and warm, as if they were meant to be kissed. She returned the kiss willingly and when she laced her fingers in his neck, he licked her lower lip slowly asking for passage in which she opened them letting his tongue explore her mouth.

His hands gripped her waist and roamed her body greedily. As he kissed her, he caught her from behind her legs and sat her down on the entrance table, biting her bottom lip shortly after, provoking a low moan from her. He smiled against her lips and trailed kisses to her neck, attacking her skin with desire, making her throw her head back a little.

She grabbed his hair and pulled him back so she could kiss him. Which he gladly reciprocate. His kiss was urgent, but without being rude, he tasted like mint, making her want him even more.

His fingers found the button of her pants and he undid them quickly pulling them out, tossing them aside. When he came back he took her calf and kissed her leg up to her thighs, making her sigh. He moved up the kisses until he caught the hem of her shirt and pulled it up a little, kissing her stomach as well. Y/n didn't know what to do but feel goose bumps with every touch he gave. He then hiked up her shirt and she lifted her arms where he pulled her off, tossing along with her pants that were also on the floor.

She was just wearing her underwear in front of him, it made her a little excited and embarrassed at the same time, but the way he looked at her made her feel confident. He went back to kissing her body, this time kissing each covered breast in turn and reaching for the back of her bra and opening it. She helped him out tosiing to the side and he stood between her legs just watching her for a second, making her feel her cheeks heat up.

- Perfect... - he said with a low voice, as it was for himself and bent down to her breasts kissing each one of her nipples and then sucking them deliciously. Y/n moaned and bit her lip to keep her moans from getting louder, tangling her fingers in his hair again. He looked into her eyes for a few seconds and smiled slightly lowering his kisses to where she wanted him most.

He reached the hem of her panties and pulled them out slowly, kneeling between her legs and she looked at him with expectation. He returned the look and gave that smirk again.

- Look at you darling.... - That damn nickname. - Extremely wet and I haven't even touched you yet... - he said approaching and devouring her right away making her throw her head back with pleasure, biting her lips again to not sound so pathetic with her moans that insisted in wanting get out. - Oh, please don't drown out those wonderful sounds you make, I want to hear how good I'm making you feel. - He said in a husky tone, returning to his task after and she parted her lips letting her moans spread through the apartment.

****************************************************************************************

Y/n woke up the other day in her bed. She didn't even know how she got there, she just had flashes of the night before and how good she felt in each moment. She stretched and looked to the side seeing she was alone. She got up and put on a robe who was on the side of the bed.

After going to the bathroom and doing her morning hygiene routine she walked around the apartment looking around to see if Tom was somewhere else in the house, but found nothing. Which was understandable, it wasn't like she expected him to stay there and have breakfast with her and all.

She arrived in the kitchen and made black coffee and lean against the countertop. What that simple waiter had done to her was ridiculous, in a good sense, she felt great and kept remembering that accent that was stuck in her mind. He had consumed her in a way she had never imagined it she could be.

Taking a deep breath she set down turning her notebook on. Then opened her book and started writing.

[talkfastromance4]

1.) Be My Mistake--Ashton Irwin ‘Lover in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts! 

Word count: 3k

warnings: sexual situations, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, unprotected sex, casual drinking

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

Present Day

Ashton’s eyes are on the reflection of his black boots in the elevator doors as he goes up, up, up while his thoughts remain down, down, down. After receiving the news he was dreading, he headed to The Golden Lion, a lavish bar and hotel in the upper East Side. It’s glitz and glam with a flash to the past of the golden years. Ashton always felt like Gatsby when he stepped across the threshold on the white marbled floor, but Gatsby couldn’t hold a flame to the wealth Ashton has.

Ashton is a member of one of the most notorious families in the country, some would deem them as royalty. During the prohibition, his great grandfather created the most sought-after whisky during that time. He and his partner started the business from the ground up and the family has continued the tradition. Ashton had a drink of his family’s creation at the bar before stepping into the elevator.

The smooth hum of the elevator sounds like a lullaby as his fingers play with the hotel key. It’s also gold with the room number 1407 engraved in the metal and the black leather strap. He comes to a complete stop and the doors glide open easily, and he strides down the hall to his room. The room he always chooses. The room he pays extra for along with the rest of the rooms on the floor, so others won’t occupy them. The hotel staff are paid very well for their discretion.

When he unlocks the door, the lights are dimly lit the way he likes, and there’s an array of his favorite liqueurs and crystal glasses. A vase overflowing with flowers sits on the dresser and his favorite bath salts are sitting along the edge of the tub in the adjacent room.

Ashton busies himself by making a drink then chills the finest champagne in the ice bucket by the bath. In the main room, he connects his phone to the stereo system and turns on the playlist reserved especially for this room and the special nights spent here. He turns his phone off and shoves it in one of the drawers. He won’t worry about that until Monday along with his bad news.

He loosens his collar and gazes out the wide windows at the city below. It’s as if he’s really transported to a different time. Where nights were filled of jazz bands playing in every bar, women in flapper dresses twisted and turned on the dancefloor. Music and art and love were the fad, the only thing that needed hiding was alcohol because of the prohibition.

The loud, three trilled rings from the black rotary phone pulls him from his golden age thinking. He takes a long swallow of his drink, the liquid gliding down his throat and the ice cooling his teeth. He lifts the phone to his ear on the second round of rings.

“Yes?”

“I’m here.”

Ashton closes his eyes at her voice, it’s been so long.

“I’m waiting,” he responds opening his eyes. “Don’t wait outside my hotel room.”

Her sweet laugh ends the call, and he clicks it back in its holder then sits on the bed facing the door. His heart pounds with each passing second as he waits. He downs the rest of his drink and a few moments later, the door opens and there she is.

Cressida Leigh James.

A golden woman if Ashton had anything to say about it. She exerted poise and grace with an air of sophistication that always blew him away. His bad news left a bad taste on his tongue but only for a moment because she removed her black peacoat to reveal a black and gold lingerie set. It made Ashton’s mouth water.

“Hi handsome,” her diamond smile is radiant as she climbs on his lap.

His fingers skim over her smooth skin and the expensive satin of her outfit, or lack thereof an outfit. Her high-end perfume tickles his nose as his fingers tickle up her thighs and over her ass.

“Did you see the flowers?” he asks with his lips already on her neck. His tongue dips into her clavicle bone and follows up to her ear where he nibbles on her lobe. She squeals and clenches her thighs on his waist.

“They’re beautiful,” she sighs running her hands over his broad shoulders. She attaches her own mouth to his neck, and he sighs at her velvety softness. He nips at her skin, squeezing her against him.

He breathes in her hair, wrapping his arms around her more tightly. This is how it always goes when they meet. The first five or ten minutes are spent holding each other, taking each other in after being separated for so long.

His fingers rememorize her curves and dips while she traces over his tattoos and freckles, connecting maps only she can read. After the acquaintance, she undoes his buttons and when his shirt is tossed to the floor he falls back onto the bed. He welcomes her weight along the length of his body and her lips teasing along his jaw.

“C’mere beautiful,” he huffs grabbing her own jaw so he can finally press his lips to hers.

Her kiss always leaves him wanting more, he can’t get enough of how well their lips move together. She sighs into his mouth and he curves his thumb and forefinger behind her knee flipping her over easily. Their kiss never breaks, both of them pulling more and more from each other. He loves when she claws her fingers in his hair when he descends lower on her body.

He kisses and swipes a taste over her breasts, teasing her nipple through the thin fabric. Sometimes he’ll pull on it with his teeth just to hear her sharp intake of breath. He knows the action makes her restless because her legs move as if she’s on a bike, trying to find friction between her thighs and to push him lower to where she’s aching for him.

“Baby, please,” she whines tugging on his hair.

Ashton lifts up the hem of her small gown as he continues to kiss down her stomach, he adores her stomach. He sucks on her skin in a peculiar way that will make sense when she sees it, but right now, Ashton continues to suck so she keeps whimpering above him.

After teasing, he finally comes in between her thighs and he groans loudly at the sight of her crotchless panties. Her pussy is framed by intricate lace and she’s glistening for him.

“What’s this?” he adjusts himself onto one elbow so he can drag his middle finger through her folds. Her legs spasm at the touch.

“I learned my lesson since you ripped the last pair,” she sighs and yanks on his hair until he glances up at her. “My favorite pair.”

“Seemed like you enjoyed it,” he smirks running his knuckle against her clit, she trembles again. Her mouth opens in a silent moan. “Or was that just a show for me?”

He kisses the inside of her thigh, eyes locked on her as he teases his lips near his finger that continues to play with her. He inhales her scent and gives one kitten lick at her core. He sees her stomach clench, his initials he sucked on her skin tightening. Ashton loves the sight.

“You love when I put on a show,” she hums and bites her lip.

“Not all things.”

His mind wanders to the terrible news again, but he doesn’t want to think about that now that she’s in front of him and nips at her thigh once more. His kiss shines in the low glow.

“Should I put on a show now?”

“Save all the jokes you’re gonna make, angel,” he shakes his head with a sigh and flattens his tongue over her lips as he inserts his whole finger. Her fingers tighten at his roots. “While I see how much drink I can take.”

Ashton dives in excitedly, pumping his finger in perfect rhythm with his tongue. He licks and sucks until her thighs are wrapped around his head. Cressida’s fingers can only pet at his hair now because she’s too busy enjoying the pleasure she’s receiving from him. He gathers spit on his tongue and watches it fall over her clit, rolling slowly to his finger.

With a satisfied moan at the provocative spectacle, he slurps it back up and continues to eat her out with fervor. He’s caught between taking his time to savor their time together and moving at a quicker pace to get her to her release. Their time is limited enough as it is, he wishes all the money he has could freeze time.

Cressida’s moans are music to his ears, he loves being between her thighs and when she begins to buck her hips that’s when he knows she’s close. That’s when Ashton moves faster.

He inserts a second finger and scissors them against her velvety warmth, he feels her pulse between his lips and her moans are uncontrolled. His name is thrown in there with a few curse words, but his favorite sound is his name. He hums at each breathy gasp until she clenches around him, his fingers, and his head combined, as she cums.

Cressida’s fingers find their strength again and she pulls on his hair in thanks. Ashton licks her up and kisses his way back up to her face. He loves the dazed look in her eyes, and he loves how it’s because of him. He wipes at his chin before dipping down to kiss her, welcoming her swirling tongue against his own to taste herself.

She moans and sucks on his tongue bringing her arms to his sides, her fingers dancing to his pants.

“Nope,” he pants, then thrusts his hips against hers for a tease before climbing off her.

“What do you mean nope,” she pouts sitting up.

“I’m going to make your bath and get you a drink, pretty one,” he winks then disappears to the other room with the tub.

Ashton runs his fingers under the stream of water making sure it’s the right temperature for her. While it runs he pours the champagne into the two crystal glasses.

“You really gave me hickies in the shape of your initials?” she asks behind him.

Ashton turns to see her completely naked in the doorway, one hand on her waist as the other one points to the red and blue marks curated to his initials on her belly.

“Had to stake my claim somehow,” he teases. “And it’s somewhere easily hidden.”

“You’re lucky I’m not doing an ad for swimsuits or something coming up,” she shakes her head and walks delicately into the room.

Ashton’s mesmerized by her movements, his eyes drinking her in as she presses her body against him. Cressida presses her fingers on his clothed thigh, inching higher and higher to his bulge. Then she snatches the glass of champagne from his hand and steps away, kissing her lips to the glass and taking a hearty drink.

“Mm,” she smacks her lips and wipes the corner of her mouth.

“You’re naughty,” he shakes his head.

“You like it.”

“Never said I didn’t,” he quips back and tosses the bath salts and bubbles into the bath. The water level rises as does his need and desire for her.

She swallows the rest of the bubbly and shakes her head from the sharp bubbles. He quickly fills her glass again and she climbs into the tub.

“It’s not ready yet,” he laughs.

She tosses back another drink and sets it on the cart next to the ice bucket.

“But I am,” she moves closer to the edge where he’s standing and unbuckles his belt. She uses the leather to pull him closer to her and undoes his pants. “Hmm, looks like you are too.”

“Am I?” he cocks an eyebrow at her.

She shimmies his slacks down enough for her liking then takes his cock in her hand giving it a slight tug. Ashton grunts at the feeling and she smiles.

“I’d say you are,” she grins giving his tip a gentle kiss.

She gives him three more gentle kisses, wetting him with her tongue before taking him into her mouth. Ashton lets out a low sigh as she gradually works him over. The noises she’s making causes his stomach muscles to tighten and he cards his fingers through her hair guiding her up and down on his cock fluidly.

“You make me weak,” he grunts when he hits the back of her throat.

He loses control so easily when her lips are wrapped around him, her head bobbing at a rapid pace. Her nails dig into his thigh as leverage and she hums when she hits his sweet spot.

“Mm, yeah, just like that…” he praises thrusting his hips shallowly into her mouth.

His breathing becomes shallow and his eyesight turns white as he cums in her mouth, his thighs clenching, and he lets out a choked gasp. Cressida pulls her mouth off him slowly and he opens his eyes in time to see her wipe at the corner of her lips then lifts the champagne glass to her mouth. With her eyes on him she takes another swallow and grins mischievously up at him.

“Are you going to join me or what?”

They make love in the water, their lips attached in throes of passion while his hands continuously explore the smooth curve of her back. He’s had her so many times like this, he knows the way her body moves. Ashton knows Cressida completely.

“I love you,” she sighs into his mouth when they climax together.

She falls onto his chest and he hugs her tightly, kissing any space he can reach. They stay in the tub holding each other, her fingers massage into his hair and they listen to each other’s heartbeats. Cressida isn’t stupid, she knows there’s something on his mind just as much as there’s something on hers. They’re sitting on a loaded time bomb; the only question is who will be the first to set it off?

When the water becomes tepid and the bubbles have disappeared, Ashton lifts her from his body. She fell asleep by the way her eyes are heavy.

“Shall I order some food?” he asks caressing her cheek, his thumb traces her lower lip. She nods. “Biscuits and honey?”

“Please and thank you,” she smiles sweetly then leads forward to give him a gentle peck.

He helps her step out of the tub and towel off, then he hands her the satin gold robe watching her pour another glass of champagne. Ashton uses the phone to call room service and watches her crawl onto the large bed. Cressida folds her legs and watches him watch her.

“Also, send up some hot chocolate please,” Ashton requests then hangs up the phone with a satisfying slam.

“Ash?”

“Angel?” he asks making his way over the bed. He lays next to her rubbing her thigh that’s sticking in the air.

“This weekend is going to be different, isn’t it?” she asks carefully, her finger circles the rim of the glass. It’s her third one and he knows if she drinks too much it makes her feel sad.

He doesn’t want her to be sad, at least not yet.

“Every weekend with you is different and is one of the best of my life,” he kisses her satin covered shoulder. He keeps his lips there in a hard kiss, almost willing it to be the kiss that would freeze time.

“Ash, we need to discuss—”

He silences her with a fierce kiss, she reciprocates it willingly and curls her hand around his ear to keep him close. It’s filled with a deep love, secrets, desires and a familiarity between two people that will never be matched.

“We don’t need to discuss anything right now. Right now, until Monday morning, it’s just you and me like it always has been and always will be.”

Cressida stares into his hazel eyes and nods. She forces a smile.

“You’re right. What movie should we watch?”

Room service arrives fifteen minutes later, and they share the warm buttery biscuits. The two cups of hot chocolate sober her up a little and then she’s running to the bathroom to relieve herself of the liquid. Ashton cleans up the mess setting the empty plates outside the door. A maid Ashton knows is dusting the golden sconces on the walls.

“Hello Mr. Irwin!”

“Hello, Louisa,” Ashton waves then heads back inside to Cressida.

The movie is still rolling through the credits and the bathroom door is still closed. Concerned, he knocks on the door then hears a sniffle in response. Ashton opens the door and finds Cressida on the floor sobbing into her hands, her body trembling.

“Cressida!” he drops to his knees in front of her and pries her hands from her face. Her lashes are wet. “What’s the matter?”

Her mouth trembles open but fresh tears spill, and she tries to hide her face again. Ashton hushes her and lifts her from the floor carrying her to the bed. He lays her down gently beneath the covers, shuts off the lights so only the floor lights behind the bed are on. Cressida cuddles into him as he puts on her favorite movie, Penny Serenade.

“This makes me cry,” she sniffs.

“But it has your favorite song in it.”

“I just wanna sleep…” she sighs then yawns into his chest.

“Sleep angel,” he kisses the top of her head and tickles up and down her arm with his fingers.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he sighs halfway through the movie when he assumes she’s asleep. “Cause we shouldn’t speak.”

She utters the words she spoke that first night spent together five years ago.

“Then be my mistake.”

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv @notinthesameguey @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @dead-and-golden​ @mymindwide​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @karajaynetoday​ @quasighost​ @i-like-5sos​ @creampiecashton​ @calpops​ @littledrummeraussie​ @sexgodashton​ @f-mu​ @mystic-232

[overly-b]

Dreams and Bandanas - JJ Maybank

-Request: Hi! I’m not sure if you write smut but if you do can I request * JJ has a sex dream about the reader while they’re laying together and she hears him murmuring about her in his sleep.

-Request: pleaseeee write 14!! 

-Request: Hey! I saw that ur thinking to write something off of my prompt list, I’d looove for someone to do 3 & 14 if you want requests - @maybankstho

I got these requests separately  however I’m combining them and making them into one big imagine, I hope that is okay! 

Prompt requests came from this list by @maybanktho 

3- JJ has a sex dream about the reader while they’re laying together and she hears him murmuring about her in his sleep. Get creative with it, do what you will.

14- We love Dom JJ but what if for one night, you take that bandana and use it on him ? Is that controversial?

Warnings:smut smut smutty smut smut, swearing 

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: yall let me tell you that this was something else to write. also i wrote half of this on my new macbook and I’m still getting used to the key board so please don’t mind all of the errors that I know are in there lmao. Sexual content under the cut!

It was a night like any other. JJ had fallen asleep before you, tired from the long day he had. You were still up, scrolling aimlessly on your phone. He was cuddled into your side as you sat slightly upright in bed, his arm around you tightly. He had been asleep soundly for about an hour when he started twitching slightly. JJ was dreaming. 

It started as small movements, then quiet mumbles that you couldn’t quite make out. At first you panicked, thinking that he was having a nightmare as he sometimes did, however it became clear that it was a good dream. 

However it wasn’t until he moaned that you knew that it was a different type of good dream. Your eyes widened as a soft moan escaped his lips. You quickly brushed it off, thinking that maybe you were overthinking it. But then he moaned again, a little louder this time, and you know that there was no mistaking that your boyfriend was having a sex dream as he slept beside you. 

You stifled your giggles with your hand, not wanting to wake the apparently aroused JJ. 

You shift your position slightly, turning to lay down and face him. You watch as he licks his lips in his sleep, rubbing his hips against you softly. You purse your lips together tightly, squeezing your eyes shut, nearly crying in laughter of the situation you found yourself in. 

He began muttering your name in strings along with profanities, similar to how he does when you go down on him. You allow him to press his waist to yours, giving the pressure he so desperately craved. He let out a small whimper as you rolled your hips to him. His eyes wandered under his eyelids, a wild dream he must have been having, you wondered if you could make it a reality. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to his unmoving lips, trying to steal him from the grips of his sleep. I was working, because his eyes fluttered softly. 

Opening his lids fully, he was met with your staring gaze. Assessing the look that you were giving him, the way he was laying, the way your hips were pressed to his, his hard length pulsing in his shorts, and the dream that he was having, he put the pieces together quite quickly in his sleep hazed state. 

“Uh, I-” 

“Having an interesting dream baby boy?” You ask in a sinful tone. 

“Um,” 

“You were saying some naughty stuff there,” You tease, batting your lashes. “What were you dreaming about?” 

“You” He chokes out, growing intimidated by your gaze, and the fact that you had caught him. 

“Me?” You question, already knowing that he was. 

“Yeah.” He swallows. JJ watches as you move to straddle his waist. You felt his stiff length under his shorts, rolling your hips softly. You relished the control that you held over his head. JJ was usually the one to take dominance in the bedroom, however this time you had the upper hand, and you decided to run with it while you could. 

“Must have been some dream you were having.” You smirk down at him. He was already squirming at the contact that you were giving him. “You’re already so hard.” You purr. 

JJ’s eyes were still glazed over with sleep, but you sitting over him was an image that he hoped would never leave his mind. You were in short running shorts and one of his tee shirts. Your braless chest is evident through the thin material. Your hair was in a messy bun, sitting loosely on your head, and your glasses sat atop your nose, having taken your contacts out earlier that evening. 

The thin fabric of both his shorts and yours caused a delicious friction to be created as you grinded on his lap. 

“What exactly happened in this dream of yours?” 

“Um,” JJ couldn’t remember, the feeling of you on top of him in this moment was better than any dream he had ever conjured up before. “Fuck,” He hissed at you as your movements got faster. 

“Mind going blank?” Your lips curled into a devilish smile. You prized that you made him feel this way. “Well if you don’t tell me how the dream went, how am I supposed to know that to do?” 

“Fuck please just keep going.” JJ exasperates. 

“Needy are we?” You raise a brow, roaming your hands around his bare chest as you lifted your hips away from his. He groans loudly at the lack of contact, looking up at you and asking you with his steel blue eyes what the hell you were doing.

“Why’d you stop?” He whines. 

 “Too needy.” You state, kissing his lips sloppily. He holds you tight, kissing you back with a sleepy yet forceful passion. “Tell me what you want baby.” 

“You.” 

“I’m gonna need you to be a little more specific,” 

“Fuck Y/N I just need you,” 

You smile at his desperation. Looking over to the night stand, you find his bandana that he had been wearing during the day. Something clicked in your brain, and you figured that JJ was rarely the sub in the relationship, so you decided to see how far you could milk it. 

“I have an idea.” 

“Anything just do it now.” He mewls. 

“Do you trust me?” You ask him, forcing for a moment of seriousness between the two of you. 

“Of course I do,” His voice was low and full of sleep and a husky sexual desire. “What’s your idea?” 

Your devilish smirk excites him, and you lean over to take the fabric from the night stand. 

“You want me to blindfold you?” He questions you. You shake your head no. “You, wanna blindfold me?” You nod your head yes. “Oh.” 

“Would you be okay with that?” 

He is hesitant with his answer, but nods with a glint of desperate lust in his blue eyes that would soon be covered with the red patterned fabric. 

“Remember the safe word if you need it JJ” You remind him, and he nods in compliance, thinking about the first time you had ever fooled around, and you made a safeword just in case. 

Gently, you wrap the fabric around his eyes and tie a knot behind his head. 

“All good?” 

“Mhm.” He hums, still painfully hard from the dream he had and the friction you allowed him before. You take his face in your hands and lead his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply. You surprise him by grinding down on him roughly. His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a strangled moan against your mouth. “Fuck.” 

You kiss his neck, and down his tanned chest, pressing your lips against every chiseled dip and curve. His labored breathing was heavier than normal due to the fact that he was missing his sense of sight. 

“So needy,” You kissed his tip through the confines of his shorts and he lifted his hips as you pulled away. “So so needy baby boy” 

“Shut up Y/N” He grumbles, not used to you being in the dominant position. 

“So demanding for someone in your position.” You nip at the skin above his waistband before pulling his shorts down. 

JJ hisses as the cold air of the room hits his hard length. He jumps slightly as you run your fingertips along him, feeling every vein, every inch, teasing him and leaving him in near agony. You spit softly, letting it drip from your lips to his shaft, and use it to move your hand smoothly. Slow and light strokes don’t seem to please JJ for long as his hips buck eagerly. 

You pull your hand away, leaving him to wriggle for a moment. 

“Why’d you stop.” He whines. You don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you tease him more, kissing and licking around his dick. 

“Tell me what you want J.” 

“Fuck I want you, I need you so bad Y/N.” 

From base to tip, you lick a long, slow stripe, sucking gently at the tip when you reach it. 

“Oh my fucking-” You cut off his words by dipping your head down his shaft and bobbing at a leisurely pace. After a few minutes, JJ’s moans are enough to make you wet, so you shift and begin rubbing yourself. Rubbing lead to fingering, and fingering lead to sounds the JJ could pick up. 

“Are you,” JJ began between groans. “Are you touching yourself right now?” 

“Mhm.” You hum, mouth still on him. 

“Holy fuck that’s so fucking hot.” 

“Yeah baby?” You take your lips from his cock. “You hear how wet I am?” 

“Fuck Y/N I need you.” 

“You’ve said that plenty of times JJ tell me what you need.” 

“I need to be in you.” 

“Beg.” You demand. 

“W- what?” JJ whimpers. 

“Beg for it,” You tease him with your tongue, circling around his flaming red tip. “Tell me how much you want it, how much you need it.” 

“Fuck please I need to be in you so fucking bad.” He whines, writhing at your light touches. “Please Y/N ride me I need to feel you right now.” 

“Well,” You state as if you are pondering the matter. “Since you asked so nicely.” You roll away from his midsection and shimmy out of your soaked pajama shorts. His dick was already lubricated with your spit, so all you had to do was climb on top of him. 

His hands instantly gripped your hips tightly, holding you close to him. Sitting up, you smash your lips to his, rubbing your bare core onto his cock. You push him back down to the mattress, rolling your hips a few times before taking him in your hand and pressing his tip to your entrance. Inch my inch, you sick down onto him until you hit his base, and the tip of him brushes over your sweet spot. JJ lets out a pornographic moan as you do so, and as you continue by rolling your hip. 

“Oh my god you’re so fucking wet. Fuck you feel so good.” 

“That’s it JJ, who’s pussy makes you feel this good.”

“Shit- yours” JJ hisses, a new level of turned on by your dirty words. 

“And who’s the only one who can fuck you this good?” 

“Oh my god you Y/N, all you baby, fuck I’m so close.” 

“Shit me too,” You whine, slowing your strokes into grinds. You were surprised how worked up you have gotten from your own hand. JJ’s hand fumbles but finds your clit and starts rubbing it, wanting you to reach your high with him. You moan and lean over him, bouncing your hips. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” JJ hitches. You reach behind his head and take the bandana off his eyes, allowing him to see once again. His eyes find yours and you rest your forehead on his as you pound your self down, slamming your pelvis to his over and over. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he spills into your tightening core. You cum undone just as he finishes, and he massages your clit to run you through the rest of your high. 

You collapse onto his chest, breathing heavily. You remain in that position for a while, with JJ still sheathed in you. 

“That was something else,” JJ admits. 

“A good something else?” You ask, previous dominant nature fading away in seconds. 

“A fucking amazing something else.” JJ reassures you. “I gotta say I dig the blindfold, but it’s your turn to wear it next time.”

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[theesteemedladydebourgh]

3 and 15 if you've not done them before 💕💕

favorite line/scene you wrote this year

ah, okay this is so hard since i wrote 300k since this summer (lol)and i'm going to try to make it easier on myself by picking a few.

from Good Old Fashioned Love Letters, i love this scene at the very end:

“You’re going to miss me.” His words are simple and they’re surprising enough that she lifts her head, meeting his eyes. They’re steady and soft. “That’s what you’ve been trying to say, isn’t it?”

Lily swallows, eyes suddenly burning. “I—“

He places his fingers gently over her mouth, stopping her words, then leans forward and kisses her cheek, her forehead, her eyes, much as she had done in that rental car the night of Petunia’s party. “You love me,” he says. “You’re going to miss me." A lingering kiss on her temple. "You know I’m coming back.”

Lily sucks in an unsteady breath and kisses his fingers. “I do,” she says.

because it shows how far they've come in their antagonism and miscommunication that James can read her so easily, and that Lily wants him to stay.

from When We Lost One Another, the scene where she hugs Sirius after a year apart, despite everything that's happened, was so fun and poignant to write, because the whole theme of the fic is how people can make so many mistakes in love, but in the face of war or the end, loving the people who are important to you is the only thing that matters.

also this scene, because of how much they care (i'm also realizing i have a bit of a common thread with these scenes...)

“—I’d wake up in the middle of the night in a dead panic, sure that something had happened to you,” James continued. He shook his head, letting out a choked laugh that didn’t have an ounce of humor in it. “I’d pace and go absolutely mental and Sirius would have to stop me from trying to track you down or—something. And the worst part was I had no way of knowing. I had no idea if you were alive, or okay or if I’d ever see you again. I’d reach for you in bed at night and it would just hit me all over again.”

Lily couldn’t breathe, her cheek pressed against the sheet.

James looked at her directly, eyes pained. “So yes, I worry about you. I worry about you every time you walk out that door, and every time you come back I nearly break, because I’m so damn sure that one of these days you won’t.”

The silence between grew, two sets of breaths, two pairs of hands lying on the sheets. Lily reached out and gently slipped hers into his. She squeezed. “I will come back,” she said. His damn, stupid, all-consuming faith. Her, Icarus, falling for the sun. “I promise.”

and finally (after i've really puffed myself up, i know), this scene from I Want It to Be Us in the End made me tear up for no particular reason except they're young and it's fate, isn't it?

It's a regular day in school. They’re sixteen years old.

James Potter is being an arse with his friends, chuckling and loudly going on about the latest amusement in their teenage lives. His lack of concern for volume means the entire classroom is getting the play-by-play of Sirius Black’s ill-fated trip down to the pond. God, sometimes she can’t stand him.

James drops his bag on the floor by his desk and smirks at her. “Alright, Evans?” he asks.

Lily rolls her eyes. “Shove off, Potter,” she says, returning her gaze to her notes and she hears him laugh.

It’s stupid, but the sound of it stays with her, and against her will she glances back over at him a few minutes later. His head is bowed over his desk, dusty sunlight shining through the dark strands. He’s doodling something—she seriously doubts it’s the assignment—his other hand tapping against the top of the desk. He’s…nice to look at. Lovely, even.

Suddenly, Lily knows she’s going to remember this scene for the rest of her life. She can’t say why, because it’s so mundane and surely she’s seen him look just like this a thousand times, but…

But she knows she will.

His hair falls over his brow, one elbow braced against the desk, pen scribbling on paper. He’s sixteen and stupid and she likes it far more than she should.

She’s going to remember this.

something you learned this year

that writing can be a balm to the soul, and that people in the world can be lovely.

Send me an end of year ask from this list! 🥳

[weeb-stomper]

Bakugou KatsukixFem!Reader - Desk Work

Word Count: 2,170

~Hello~

*In surprised old man voice* “It’s been 57 years.....”

No seriously, sorry for not posting in so long! Art block is a bitch :( But I’m back! I have something in the works that’s taking way longer than I thought it would, so I busted this out over the last few days just to get things goin again on the ol’ writing blog :) hope you enjoy, NSFW below cut

special thank you to @wootato and @kat-unzel for beta reading this so many times. Also tagging @cupcake-rogue because she went out of her way to mention something I wrote in a post the other day and she made me feel all UwU-soft :)

Tagging all my friends cause ha

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

     Patrolling with Dynamight had been difficult at first. He was abrasive and stand-offish, a wolfish thirst for power kept him from having many friends and the calculated strength he brought to every fight was admittedly a bit scary. Civilians were equal-parts likely to ask for his autograph as they were to cross the street when they saw the two of you coming, with the exception of the countless women who would attempt to chat him up throughout your patrols. You couldn’t say you didn’t get it, if you were honest. He was quite attractive, and you’d passed an embarrassing amount of time wondering what those calloused fingers might feel like digging into the meat of your thighs, what that mocking sneer might taste like when it melted into your mouth…But considering the cold way he brushed off his adoring public, those fantasies remained as they were. Fantasies.

     All you could say now was that if you’d had any idea how this day might turn out, you would have worn cuter underwear.

     You were sat in Bakugou’s lap, your back against his chest and his feet hooked around your ankles, prying your knees open so wide your hips hurt. You wondered in passing where exactly your shorts had gone before a sharp pain at your pressure point erased your thoughts once again, the resulting moan echoing in the stale air of his office. Your jaw ached, Bakugou’s fingers stretching your mouth open so wide you thought your lips might split, his other hand pinching and tweaking your nipple underneath the stretchy material of your hero costume’s top. The taste of his sweat flooded your mouth, his rough fingers smashing your tongue against the sharp edges of your teeth and allowing drool to spill out and run down your chin. His breath was hot against your neck as he sucked another mark onto the sensitive skin just below your ear, the overwhelming scent of burnt caramel filling your nose.

     “C’mon sweetheart, where’s all those stupid jokes now?” Bakugou hissed against your ear, hand dropping from your chest to rub harsh circles against your clit. “You were so fuckin annoying on patrol today, I thought for sure you’d be a good girl for me.”

     A choked sob wracked your shoulders as his pace picked up, the rumble of his manic laughter reverberating through your ribs completely overwhelming your senses: Taste, smell, hearing, feeling, he was everywhere on you at once and it was just too much. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing against him, wordlessly pleading for more. Your head spun, growing more and more hazy as his ministrations continued, dragging ragged moans and whines from your lungs against your will. If he’d just let you cum once, if he could show you that kindness, you’d do anything.

     Your head tilted towards the door of his office in the far corner of the room, noting with a cracked whimper that he hadn’t even bothered to lock it before he’d set on you. You felt him smile against your shoulder as his eyes followed yours, a pang of panic ringing in your head a split second before he sank two fingers inside of you. A guttural moan poured from your lips, your back bowing against him as he began working you over.

     “Heh...you finally noticed? Took ya long enough, sweetheart. You’re dumber than I thought.” He chuckled, feeling you clench around his fingers at his harsh words. “You like that, huh? Then why don’t ya beg for me, sweetheart?”

     A fresh torrent of drool dripped past your lips as Bakugou finally pulled his hand from your mouth, fingers still connected to your lips by a nearly-invisible strand of saliva. Swallowing back as much as you could, you worked your jaw open and closed, easing some of the built up tension there. It had been painful, but you couldn’t help but miss the taste of him. An all consuming sense of emptiness mixed into your lust clouded mind when his other hand trailed up from between your legs, and you let out a low whimper at the loss. If he kept up like this, you were sure you’d pass out. His hands settled on your hips, gently urging you off his lap and turning you to face him.

     He remained slumped in the chair, a wide grin showed the now familiar sharp canines at the edges of his smile. Half lidded eyes raking down your face, trailing across the swelling marks that framed your neck on either side before skipping down to settle between your legs, heightening the feeling of your own slick rolling down your thighs, and his breathing faltered for a moment. It was humiliating, standing half naked and wrecked in front of your boss like some fucked out groupie, and your hands subconsciously drifted to the hem of your top, knotting into the elastic material as you shifted anxiously in front of him. Risking a glance, you noticed the strained tent of his pants. Even through the thick fabric of his hero costume you could tell he was big and, you realized with a surge of pride, that he wanted you. A vicious grin stretched your abused lips.

     Bakugou was silent as you sank to your knees between his legs, his smirk falling as you slid your hands up his muscled thighs, looking up at him through tear spattered lashes with wide, innocent eyes as you worked his belt undone. The softness of your touch left him frozen, his head tipping back against the seat when you finally tugged down his waistband to free his cock. Flattening your tongue, you licked a long strip up the underside of him, drinking in the loud groan that slipped past his lips. Those hands you’d quickly grown addicted to twitched, moving to tangle in your hair, but you slapped them away. He growled as you continued taunting him, placing small kitten licks and sloppy kisses against his member and relishing the needy way he tried to push into your mouth whenever you strayed too close to the head.

     “I don’t beg for shit.” Your voice was hoarse but confident. You were playing a dangerous game and you knew it, but seeing him all riled up from your teasing was such a power trip that you couldn’t resist.

     Your stomach dropped as your eyes slid up to Bakugou’s face, meeting his gaze for the first time since before he’d closed the door. His lips were pulled back in an animalistic sneer, glaring down at you with half-lidded eyes. The furious crimson staining his cheeks did nothing to soften his expression, like it might have were this literally any other situation. A small giggle tumbled from your mouth despite the warning written plainly on his face. Ya, you’d worked him up. 

     Big mistake.

     His hand shot into your hair, gripping tightly at the roots and guiding your head to him while the other hand held his cock steady. He shoved himself sloppily against your lips, smearing precum across your mouth and cheeks. You gasped as his hold on your hair shifted, a burning pain exploding across your scalp, and he seized the opportunity to force his way past your swollen lips and bottom out in your mouth. Tears pricked your eyes once again at the new sensation as his now-free hand shifted into your hair to maneuver your head along his length. 

     “Keep runnin your mouth, sweetheart.” Bakugou snarled, slamming himself against the back of your throat and making you gag against the intrusion.

     He shuddered, rough hands cementing you in place against him. Your eyes widened, a reflexive wave of panic sang through your veins as the seconds stretched on, your nails digging deep into the tops of his legs and a hazy tingling the edges of your mind as the lack of oxygen made itself known. You hollowed your cheeks around him, doing your best to work your tongue against his shaft and dropping a hand between your legs to give some much-needed attention to your neglected core. The feeling was euphoric, the tension building inside you feeling more and more unbearable as Bakugou’s moans mingled with the small whimpers escaping around his cock until your shoulders were shaking. Pins and needles erupted across your skin as your orgasm crashed over you, your shoulders folding forward as you slumped against him, thighs twitching as you rolled your hips into your hand.

     He tore himself from your mouth with a stuttering groan, ignoring the way you coughed and sputtered for air as he rose from his seat, pulling you onto unsteady feet. Spinning you around quickly, he planted a hand between your shoulders and shoved you down against the desk in front of you. The cool wood felt good against your heated skin and you relaxed against the surface. You clutched the edges of the fine wood for support as you indulged in your peak, savoring the lingering muscle twinges and blissed out fog still wrapping your mind. It was only when you felt something hard press against your entrance that you came to your senses, managing to slur out a ‘wait’ before he sank into you to the hilt, immediately pulling you undone again. You almost screamed, patches of white popping in your vision as he began thrusting into you wildly, writhing in painful ecstasy as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. The sound of that malicious laughter cut filled your ears once again 

     “Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me.” He groaned, planting a hard slap against your ass. “Keep making those cute little noises for me, ok?”

     You were being too loud, you knew, but you couldn’t stop the salacious moans and whimpers from bubbling past your lips between mindless praises and begs. Dignity was a forgotten concept at that moment. You couldn’t care less if someone walked in, saw you rocking back into his Bakugou’s thrusts like the pathetic, desperate little thing you felt like, or heard the way you mewled and cried for your boss to fuck you till you couldn’t breath. All that matter was chasing the high that Bakugou gave you, the stretch in your walls as he used you completely for himself.

     The breath was again stolen from your lungs as he slammed down on top of you, pressing your chest so hard against the desk you could feel your ribs creak. His rhythm was growing sloppy, hands groping you wherever he could reach as he neared his own climax slipping beneath your shirt to dig into the burning flesh of your waist. A sudden desire erupted in your lusty mind, and you lifted your head, trying in vain to communicate with the man above you. He let out a frustrated growl that reverberated against your back, threading his fingers into your hair and jerking your head to the side enough to look you in the face.

     “What the hell do you want, sweetheart? Spit it out!” He demanded, carmine eyes glued to your bruised lips.

     “I’m on the pill!” You sobbed, voice no more than a cracked whine.

     You shuddered at the wolfish grin that split his face as he processed your words, releasing your hair and digging his fingers into your waist hard enough to bruise.

     “You wanna be my little slut? All filled and dripping with my cum?”

     You nodded frantically, struggling to match him when his pace picked up.

     His eyes darkened. “Then say please.”

     You didn’t hesitate. How could you?

     “Katsuki, please!”

     That was it. He hugged you tight against his chest as he finished inside of you, painting your insides with thick ropes of cum, thrusting into you shallowly as he rode out his high, the immense feeling of fullness bringing you to your own peak once again. You went completely limp against the desk, letting out a sharp wail as tremors took over your body once again. It was the most deliciously overwhelming thing you’d ever experienced, completely blotting out your vision for a few seconds and cancelling out everything except the feeling of him still buried inside of you.

     Eventually, the two of you separated, Bakugou tucking himself neatly back into his pants before crossing the room to retrieve clean clothes from the small cabinet in the corner opposite the door. Rather than right yourself, you slid to the floor behind the desk. The twinges in your legs hadn’t completely subsided, but the cold air of the room was starting to become an issue as you realized again that you had no idea where Bakugou had thrown your shorts earlier. Your eyes trailed lazily around the room, briefly appreciating the sight of a now-shirtless Bakugou before grazing past the open door.

     OPEN DOOR!?

     Your eyes darted back to Bakugou, who was now staring at the door with a mixture of horror and shock. You couldn’t help but laugh, slumping back against the desk.

     “Jeanist is gonna be so mad at us.”

@kat-unzel @wootato @sawamooora @honeyyandere @anxietyplusultra @redpandaramblings @krystalwithakay @dynamightslittlehotpocket @spooky-all-year-round @nkjktk @cupcake-rogue

[silverarmedassassin]

Please, Mr. Barnes

CEO!Bucky x Reader | NSFW, 18+ only please | 2163 words | Masterlist

You’ve just started a new job as the executive secretary to the one and only James “Bucky” Barnes - founder, owner, and leader of Barnes Bionics, the most successful prosthetics companies in North America. Everything is going smooth until your royally fuck up and Bucky is forced to punish you the only way he knows how...

Warning: Like I mentioned above, 18+ only, please! There’s a little tongue action here, some spanking there. Nothing explicit but, ya know.

Note: Listen, despite consuming more than my fair share of smut, I’ve never actually wrote anything remotely smutty, so this is very new to me. Please be nice 😭 I was inspired after seeing this post, where I accidently went off in the tags because I was feeling some kind of way. I’m also dedicating this to @wonderlandmind4​, because they called me out on my shit 😅 Enjoy!

To say you fucked up is an understatement. Forgetting to send an email is fucking up. Forgetting to water the plant’s in your boss’s office is fucking up. But this? This is a next level, idiotic, you-deserve-to-be-fired mess. And you haven’t even been here a full week.

You started at Barnes Bionics as an executive assistant to the CEO. You’d heard great things about the company - the relaxed and family-like corporate atmosphere, casual Fridays, and the down-to-earth, laid-back James Barnes, aka the founder, owner, and leader of the most successful prosthetics company in North America - and were eager to start your new position. Not only was it going to be a significant pay raise, but it was also going to give you a change of pace. You’d struggled for so long to find a position that would help boost your career, so when your best friend informed you she was stepping down from her assistant position to stay home with her soon-to-be-born daughter, you were ecstatic.

Except right now, on this bright and warm Friday afternoon, you wanted to be anywhere but your desk on the 90th floor of the One World Trade Center Building. While the executive offices began to empty, your new co-workers filing out in clumps, chatting excitedly about their weekend plans, you sat impatiently behind your desk, trying to make yourself as small as you could.

Earlier in the day, right after you returned from lunch, an email from James popped up on your screen. “Plan to stay after this evening,” was all you could read from the preview. In naive, blissful ignorance, butterflies erupted deep in your belly. Your boss was attractive. He looked like he could be sculpted from marble with the way his muscles strained against his smartly pressed button-downs, and the slight clench in his jaw when he’s concentrating on something was mesmerizing. The giddy feeling quickly dissipated, however, as you continued reading.

“I received a strongly worded voicemail from a distraught Tony Stark this morning. Asked why I’d waste his time by not showing up to a meeting that, the last time I checked my calendar, is scheduled for next week. I should be back at the office at 5:15. I expect you to be prepared for a one-on-one meeting before then.”

Your eyes flick to the small clock in the corner of your computer screen, and your stomach feels like it’s wrapped itself into a constrictor knot. 5:12. If your boss was anything, it’s punctual. As Sam Wilson, Barnes Bionics’ chief operations officer, closes his office up, the elevators just down the hall ding, signaling their arrival.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sam laughs as he laughs before departing with a jaunty farewell.

You hear the two men exchange the usual pleasantries, the elevators shut, then the ominous echos of James loafers meeting the polished marble floor. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves, but as soon as he beckons you to follow him into his office as he passes your desk, you actually think you’re going to throw up.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m so sorry I-”

He holds his hand up to silence you as he leans back against his large mahogany desk and uses his free hand - the metal one, that one that started this entire company - to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You realize Tony Stark is one of my biggest investors, right?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he fixes you with a rather threatening, so you simply nod and look down at your heel-covered feet. He’s going to fire me, you think as you wait for him to continue with his lecture. I haven’t even received my first paycheck, and I’m getting canned.

“You could have cost me a lot of money today, Ms. Y/L/N.” He pushes off his desk and slowly makes his way to where you stand just inside his spacious office. “There is no room for such vital mistakes like the one you made in this industry. I didn’t build this company from the ground up by missing meetings with the men and women who fund our research. I didn’t become one of the world's leading tech companies by allowing my assistants to make careless mistakes and piss off my partners.”

“Mr. Barnes, please,” you beg. God, you sound so pathetic, but you really don’t want to lose this job. And the fact that you messed up so bad within the first week of being employed at Barnes Biotics is embarrassing, a total misrepresentation of how organized and punctual you usually are when it comes to the workplace. “I...I’m trying really hard, there’s just so much to learn in such little time and I...I don’t know what happened.. I’ve never made a mistake like this before, and I never will again. Please, you don’t understand how much I need this job. I’ll do anything, I’ll work overtime without pay. Please…”

“Fire you?” James snorts as he stops in front of you. He’s so close you can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his broad chest. “Oh, honey, I’m not going to fire you. But mistakes do come with consequences.”

You force yourself to look up at him. The anger and pure disappointment you expect to find on his face is surprisingly absent. In its place is something a little darker, dare you say a bit lustful. His powder blue eyes are almost covered with the black of his pupil, and a little smirk is playing in the corner of his lips.

“Go stand by the desk,” he commands. You go to question him, but he tuts his tongue. “Go on. You know how impatient I can be.”

Confused, you slowly make your way across the room, stopping in the space he had just been occupying. You’re about to turn around when two large arms around you. James’ metal hand settles on your lower stomach as his other arm wraps around your shoulder.

“Do you know,” he says, hot breath fanning across your exposed neck, “what happens to bad girls?”

You swallow thickly before you answer. “Uhm, no, Mr. Barnes.”

“They get punished.” Before you realize what’s going on, James pushes you forward onto his desk so that your bent over the top, his muscular torso resting gently across your back. Gently, almost agonizingly slow, he begins to drag his metal arm across your stomach, around until it’s just barely resting on your ass. “You’ve gotta tell me you want this, or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “But I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as bad as I do.”

“God, yes, please, Mr. Barnes!”

The words have hardly slipped past your lips before he’s bunching up your skirt and nudging at your panties. You should feel ashamed, you think, at how wet you already are at the simple action, but by god did you touch yourself thinking of this man.

“Soaked already,” he practically purrs as he teases at your entrance. Before you can get too much enjoyment from the sensation, he quickly pulls his hand away. “But you still fucked up. Still almost cost me millions. I need you to know,” he says as he eases himself from on top of you, keeping one hand pressed gently to the center of your back and the other resting on one of your exposed cheeks, “how bad that could have been.”

Before your brain can register what is happening, James’ palm connects to your asscheek with a loud smack. You jump, having been unprepared for the assault. Just as quickly as the last, his palm connects to your ass two more times before he is rubbing the sore spot in soothing circles.

This was...different. Never mind the fact your boss of five fucking days has you bent over his desk, ass and pussy exposed for all to see, but it was actually turning you more on. Spanking had never been something you’d thought of when it came to sex, something you probably wouldn’t have even considered with past lovers. But with James, it just felt right.

“No more silly mistakes like that, okay?” he whispers softly in your ear as he continues to rub your now burning cheek. “Or I’ll have to do this again.”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

A wanton moan drips from your lips after the last swat, and you’d be embarrassed if your boss wasn’t spinning your dazed body around, shoving the miscellaneous papers away to clear a spot for your to sit. You watch in stunned as he slowly lowers himself to the floor in front of you, lust-filled eyes never leaving yours.

“Something tells me you might like that, though,” James smiles as he grabs your ankle and carves a path of gentle kisses up to your skirt's hem. Both hands slid the material up your thighs, providing a peculiar sensation of both warm skin and cold metal at the same time. His metal fingers brush ever so slightly at your still-exposed bundle of nerves, and he smirks at the gasp it pulls from you.

“Would you like that, Y/N,” he asks, planting a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Because I know I would.”

He quickly buries his face between your legs, first with a flat-tongued swipe up your pussy before he begins to suck on your clit. The heat of his tongue, mixed with the shallows breaths he takes between sucking and lapping, causes your blood to run cold and the coil in your belly to twist so tight you’re sure it’s going to snap any second.

“Please, Mr. Barnes. Fuck,” you exclaim louder than intended, and you’re suddenly very aware of where you are. You can’t seem to find the thought to care, however, not with James drinking you in like a man just returned from the desert. He responds to your cries of satisfaction with a light bite to your clit.

As slides down, he tongues at your entrance, his nose applies just enough pressure to your clit to send you reeling. Your hands land in his perfectly styled hair, pushing and pulling at the chesnut stands as he helps you ride out the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

As you begin to settle, James plants small kisses here and there on both your thighs before pulling away. He looks up at you, your juices glistening on his lips and the slight stubble of his beard. He looks as fucked out as you feel, and it makes you slightly self-conscious of what you must look like. He licks his lips and hums quietly, causing another jolt of want to rush straight to your core.

“You taste as good as you look,” he smiles and stands. When he’s back to his full height, he reaches a hand out to help you off his desk. You can’t help but catch the noticeable bulge straining at his slacks, and he must see your quick glance because he laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.,” he says, bringing his hand to his lips before making his way around to sit at his desk.

You left standing there, in the middle of an office whose furnishes cost more than your entire year’s rent, fucked out and in shock at what just happened. You don’t know how long you stand frozen, eyes fixated on a vintage Brookly Dodgers poster, but a deep chuckle and the rustling of papers draws you out of your trance.

You turn to find James straightening up the papers he had shoved out of the way, and cleaning up the pen holder must have spilled. You stagger forward, hands out ready to help your boss clean up the mess, but he simply waves you off.

“I hope you didn’t have any plans after work,” James says sheepishly, almost sounding guilty for keeping you over. Almost.

“No,” you say as you anxiously rub at your arm. “Just your average, boring Friday night.”

“Well, I hope I added a little fun to help kick off the weekend.”

You can feel your face heat up as you nod. He winks before turning back to tidying his desk, and you take that as your cue to take your leave. You scurry across the room quickly, and right as your hand touches the door, James stops you.

“By the way, great job on your first week. I was more productive than I’ve been in years thanks to your organization. I really appreciate it.”

You smile, face heating up even more. You take the compliment to heart, bathe in the way it fills you with pride. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

“Hey, uh, call me Bucky. Mr. Barnes or James or whatever is too impersonal, and I think we’re well past that stage.”

[dexiao]

The less I know, the better (Mark Lee series part 1, m)

Synopsis: Y/N recently got out of a long-term relationship with Hendery and she’s hating herself for having and essay to submit while Mark, her roommate, goes to a party

Pairing: Mark Lee x female reader

Words: ~1.2k

Genre: roommate!au, non idol!Mark, smut

Warnings: masturbation (female), walking in on someone not fully dressed

A/N: This is going to be a 7-part story, so look forward! Later I’m going to change my masterlist and include a mini masterlist only for this series. I’m also starting a taglist, so let me know if you want to be tagged in my works! Feedback is always welcome, let me know if you’ve found any mistakes ;)

This is a work of fiction. It does not portray the real personality of the member.

Y/N stretched her arms, closed eyes and massaged her temples for a few seconds before facing the laptop screen again. The damn incomplete essay stared back at her, pleading to be finished in the next two and a half hours.

From this perspective, breaking up the almost 2-year relationship with Hendery sucked.

He used to help her with this kind of assignments, so having to do everything by herself made putting her ideas on the text even harder than it was already meant to be.

Mark passed by her side what seemed like half a dozen times, going to the bathroom, the kitchen, back to his room as her fingers furiously hit the keyboard.

Mark was a long-time friend who shared the apartment with Y/N since both moved out their hometown to attend the same university. Though their majors couldn’t be more unlike – Y/N studied psychology while Mark was on mechanical engineering - both adults got along pretty well for the 3 years passed until the present time, even during eternity Y/N dated the dickhead Mark most hated.

It’s not that Hendery was a bad person, not at all. It’s just that he dated Y/N. Mark was envious of him.

However, the man did the best he could to not ruin the friendship he had with Y/N.

The seventh time he passed by her was the time he left apartment, leaving a kiss on the top of her head and uttering a short “see ya tomorrow” before passing through the door and heading to the party Y/N was unable to go.

The younger answered with a nod and a quiet “have fun, Mark”, without moving her eyes from the screen. To be honest, she didn’t want to see Mark dressed to go out and get even angrier at herself for leaving the assignment to the last minute and, consequently, having to stay home on a Friday night. Damn experimental psychology.

Y/N pressed the send button 7 minutes before the submitting time was over. It 100% sure wasn’t the best essay she ever wrote, which made her not only stressed, but tired from the effort spent on writing a decent paper.

She just wanted to have some vodka and some dick for stress relief.

Well, this was another bad thing about breaking up with Hendery – weeks without getting properly laid.

College was taking a lot of her time. It wasn’t like the freshman year, when she could just go to the bar with her friends whatever day she wanted, sleeping at Hendery or inviting him over whenever she felt like it. She doesn’t even have the patience to flirt nowadays.

The result of these situations is as simple as 1 + 1. She got off to porn.

That was exactly what she was doing after hanging out spread on the sofa for a couple of minutes.

Y/N put her laptop on the center table, right in front of her, making her have to curve her back in order to type properly. She opened an anonymous tab and entered the address she was ashamed of how familiar with she had become.

Browsing on the page for time enough to find a video with reasonable quality, she clicked on a thumbnail that showed a couple fucking next to a glass wall, in what seemed to be a high floor of a building.

By the time the page loaded, Y/N took off her shorts, leaving them on the floor and staying only in panties and the huge t-shirt she used to wear with no bra.

Y/N laid back against the couch, trying to relax her body as she watched the couple make out. The man put the woman on all fours on the bed and the camera zoomed to her pussy. Y/N started playing with her clit as the woman of the video was fingered, Y/N rushing her fingers softly on top of her underwear.

When the veiny hard cock appeared, Y/N pulled her t-shirt up and used her free hand to squeeze her boobs. The woman pumped the pink tipped cock before beginning to lick all around, starting at the base. After licking all of it and pressing the hard member against her face and lips, she began sucking it.

Low grunts were heard from the man as she sped up, taking more of the cock into her mouth every time she bobbed her head, eyes tearing up and drool starting to drip from her mouth. Y/N missed giving blowjobs so much she kept rewinding the video for a few times, watching as the woman feasted on the flesh and choked around it.

Y/N felt her arousal wet her fingers through the fabric, so she dragged the panties to the side and pushed two fingers in, moaning loud in response to her own stimulus. She quickened the pace and her heartbeat increased as her body started becoming tense, thighs and stomach contracting as the climax was built.

Putting two fingers of her free hand into her mouth and sucking it filthily, Y/N felt her body spasm when her orgasm hit her, making her grunt and curve her toes during the release. Her walls clenched around her fingers and she close eyes hardly, trying to extend the moment as far as she could.

After the high, the tiredness overcame and Y/N just reached the spacebar to pause the video, resting back on the couch and closing her eyes as she tried to regain her breath.

Eventually, she fell asleep.

Mark, who was supposed to enjoy the night and sleep at the house of whoever he ended hooking up with, was coming back home earlier than any of them would’ve expected. Johnny and Jaehyun had a stupid drunk fight, killing the party and making the atmosphere so thick that Mark decided leave.

He did bother to send Y/N a message when he left Jaehyun’s house, but he supposed she was already asleep or still busy with her essay as the message remained unread.

What he didn’t expect was to walk on his roommate asleep on their couch, her laptop on the table still on.

When he got closer, he realized.

The laptop showed a blonde woman giving head, tears brimming on her eyes and makeup stains over her face.

Mark’s heart started beating so fast he couldn’t hear anything else.  

He shifted his gaze to Y/N, noticing her shorts on the floor, shirt up to her chest showing her breasts, underwear crooked to the left. Breathing calm and steadily, sleeping peacefully.

The blood rushed to Mark’s face as fast as it rushed to his dick, pants suddenly tighter.

Before running to hide in his room, jack off, feel guilty and think about how to pretend this never happened, Mark tuned to read the title of the video. The words were like gigantic bells ringing inside of his head, as in an attempt to prevent him from thinking.

“My hot bubble butt roommate wants my dick so bad”

[vaire-gwir]

I’ve run out of my words

Post-mountain incident, Jaskier is a heart broken mess. The last thing he needs is an unexpected visit from Geralt. 

I have accepted that it’s never going to be the same amount of words as I Find you all Unwoven, cause I re-wrote this three times and it just doesn’t happen.

Again, I was sad, that’s my excuse. English is not my first language, hope it doesn’t terribly suck! 

***

It hurt a great deal when Jaskier sold his lute. He was attached to it for more than just sentimental reasons. Sometimes he felt like his life truly started the day he got that lute.

He was used to pain by now though, pain was just another thing creeping under the surface, it came and went in waves like the ocean, sometimes threatening to overwhelm him with memories and sometimes resting among the broken pieces of his heart, hissing like a snake waiting to strike.

It was always there, he just perceived it in different ways: some days it was like being on the edge of an empty abyss of nothingness, about to fall but never really tipping over, just going through the motion. Other times, there were the long nights when sleep refused to visit him and he'd get this urge under his skin, to move, to do something, anything to not feel trapped in his own flesh, caged by his own mind.

He tried to fight insomnia with the ink, but he proved a terrible fighter. He couldn't write anything anymore. When he tried to play, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and he'd get even the simplest of melody wrong, resulting in endless frustration that kept him up until dawn.

As much as he tried to outrun his ghost, he always ended up running right into it, and if he managed to keep his waking hours relatively Geralt-free, the dreams were always there. His journals paid the price of waking up for the hundredth time, after a nightmare that leaves him choking and incapable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He thought he'd feel relieved after watching it crackle and burn to ashes, as if destroying the evidence of his time with the Witcher could also destroy the heartache that came with it, but it doesn't work like that. Nothing he ever does stops him from being hollow.

Jaskier walks around the Academy like a shadow, trying to keep himself busy between lessons or at least trying to keep Geralt out of his thoughts. This simple task proved to be more complicated than he anticipated. He doesn't want to be here, he's not made for teaching and his students get on his nerves all the time. To be fair, most things get on his nerves since the mountain incident, but he doesn't have many options.

Sure, he could go home to his family, beg their forgiveness and implore his father to allow him back into court. That sounded as promising as jumping off a bridge.

Compared to that, even the room Madame M. offered him at the brothel looked like a golden palace. At least he had some talent for sex, he managed to convince even a Witcher to sleep with him, that hadn't been easy.

Jaskier stirs his mind in a safer direction, cause thinking about those nights will not do him any good. He still blames and curses himself for coming up with that stupid arrangement, cause why not Geralt, I'm here all the time, and I'm obviously very willing, besides you don't have to pay me, looks like a win-win situation to me. Looks like you're a special kind of idiot, Jaskier, that's what you are. Why did Geralt even accept anyway?

Jaskier blinks the memories away and focuses on trying to have lunch, cause that's what sane, normal people do. He's still struggling with normal though.

His plan flew out of the window when someone started to sing. Jaskier froze in his spot when he recognized the song. He wrote that. He should be pleased to hear it, but it's not pride he feels when he glances in the direction of the curly-haired boy in green velvet.

He will never play or sing another song again, and people will forget him sooner than Geralt did. The folks in this tavern don't know him, they don't know he wrote those lyrics to distract himself the first night Geralt didn't come back from a hunt and he feared for him every second of that dreadful night.

He spent hours cursing the Gods for making him so useless and prayed to them in the same breath, begging for their mercy. He felt stupid later, when Geralt showed up at dawn saying it took him longer than expected to break a curse. Jaskier told the Witcher how scared he had been and Geralt dismissed him as the fool he was.

He's scared of being forgotten, of being meaningless and unimportant. No one is going to remember Jaskier, the bard that traveled the continent with the White Wolf and shared his adventures.

He left Jaskier on top of that mountain, he's just Julian now, just a teacher, just another idiot that got his heart broken. Geralt left him like everyone else. That's what people do, they just leave and move on with their lives. So why couldn't he move on too?

There's a small shift in the air, and while he tries to regain control of his thoughts, for some unknown reason, destiny, the universe, life or the Gods, make him turn his head toward the entrance.

There is no mistaking the white hair he sees, or the dark armour. Jaskier knows he has to leave before Geralt sees him. The sole idea of Geralt being here is enough to leave him shaking.

What are the chances of meeting the Witcher outside Oxenfurt? There were no contracts in town, why was fate trying his best to mess with his life today, was the song not enough? He feels like his head is swimming and he knows he doesn't have time to panic cause his heart beats so loudly he fears Geralt will spot it in a second.

He puts some coins in the maid's hand and stumbles out of the place.  

He can't face him. Not today. Probably not ever, cause he can't imagine he'll ever be ready to face the one that broke his heart without holding any anger or resentment towards him. Why must he feel like this, Geralt never cared for him, so why is he still drowning in his feelings for the idiot?

Jaskier is a poet, he should know a thing or two about heartache. He should also know that he's out of luck today.

"Why did you follow me, Witcher?" Jaskier feels his presence a few paces behind him, still so painfully familiar to him even after all these months.

"How did you know..." There's a puzzled expression on Geralt's face. Jaskier knows he's not prepared for this.

It takes him a second to realize that no matter how angry he is at the Witcher, how deep his sorrow runs and how broken his heart is, a small part of him is almost glad to see him. It's the same small part that decided to talk to a stranger and follow him on a dangerous journey, the one that figured out first that what he was feeling was more than a crush, and that accepted every scrap of affection Geralt showed him like he was being handed the world on a silver plate.

Geralt is exactly how he remembers him, and his betrayer heart jumps in his chest when their eyes meet.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." I love you, I'd recognize your steps everywhere, the cracking of the leather in your gloves and the click of the metal of that buckle in your armor you always forget to fix after a hunt, I know them as if they were my own. I love you, and you broke my heart. That's what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat, they're no use now.

"I... You were not singing." Jaskier knows it's not surprise he sees on Geralt's face when he answers "I don't do that anymore." but he can't figure out what it is.

It hurt when he realized he couldn't bring himself to sing or play anymore, it left him feeling even emptier than before, cause he always thought he'd have his music to console him, to defend him from the things life was throwing at him, to build a wall around himself and protect whatever was left of him. How wrong he was.

"Why not?" Jaskier wishes he could explain that when they parted on top of the mountain, when he forced himself to say "See you around Geralt" knowing he'll never see him again, when he tried to process those heavy words that rolled off the Witcher's tongue, his love for music, for poetry, for life, rolled off too and hid somewhere he couldn't reach anymore. But Geralt never cared for his music.

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Keeping his tone even and preventing his voice from breaking is hard, harder than any performance he ever had to do. Ten months ago feel like a lifetime away now, it doesn't even seem real. The ache in his chest is always there to remind him that it is.

"That's not true." Jaskier sees how he clenches his hands as if those words meant a great effort for him. The Gods know how many times he looked into Geralt's eyes after singing, desperately seeking his approval and finding only a mild annoyance, like this was just another thing he had to endure.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Jaskier wants to be annoyed, he should be furious for what Geralt did to him, for leaving him like he meant nothing, but these days being mad is a lot of effort. He doesn't have it in him anymore, it's easier to let go of the anger. It doesn't make him feel less empty or less broken anyway.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier laughs bitterly.

"Really Geralt? That's rich coming from you. Now you want to talk? You know what, no. No, you don't get to come here and tell me you want to talk after I spent ten gods forsaken months trying to forget you. Don't you fucking dare. Not like this. Now if there's something I can help you with, do say so. If not, spare us both this conversation, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to have my heart broken again." Jaskier is not even sure there is something left to break.

He'll never admit it but deep down he knows there's no forgetting Geralt. And he curses that small part of him that wants to listen to him, to let him talk and explain, cause he knows that he'd go back to traveling with the Witcher right this second if he so much as says he'd take him back. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. A Witcher apologizing, as if.

"I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier."  Saying goodbye, even knowing that it's for the best, doesn't make it any less painful.

"You were right." Geralt looks at him in a way he has never seen before, for a second he thinks it's hurt that he sees flickering in those golden eyes, but it lasts a second. He should know Geralt doesn't care about him enough to be hurt by something he says or does.

"You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands. But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

His voice breaks at the end, he feels the tears stinging his eyes and he turns to walk away before Geralt notices it. Pain comes in waves, and today he's drowning.

[a-duck-with-a-book]

REVIEW // Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle, #1) by Jay Kristoff

★☆☆☆☆

So I’m very late to the party, but I just finished reading Nevernight by Jay Kristoff I had such high hopes for this series based off of what people recommending it had told me and what I read about it before picking up. Dark fantasy? Check. Strong leading lady? I’m here for it. Gays? It’s literally my only personality trait. Sign me up. Unfortunately, this book fell flat in all those categories. It reminded me a lot of Sarah J. Maas’s Throne of Glass, which made me take one point off of to begin with simply for making me think of Maas’s writing. Overall, I just found the book to be too predictable, with bad writing, exposition, and pacing, and too many parts that just made me ~uncomfortable~.

In case you are not familiar with this novel, Nevernight tells the story of Mia Corvere, a girl who lost her family when she was a child after her father was convicted of treason. When the book begins, she is 16 years old and embarking on a journey to join the Red Church, a school for assassins, so that she may one day be able to avenge her father’s death. Along the way she meets a bunch of forgettable characters whose names I can’t be bothered to remember and is taught by the most fearsome killers in the Republic. Here she gains many valuable skills, like how to survive being poisoned, how to fight, and how to get big boobs.

+ Side note: by chapter 3 three I started picturing Mia as the crow guy from RWBY and I could not shake that for the rest of the book

I had many issues with this novel that I will try to summarize in some sort of coherent fashion, but to be honest this book sucked the will to live out of me so I don’t know how much energy I can put into this review.

// image: official cover art by Jason Chan //

FOOTNOTES

The footnotes were probably the most jarring element of the book for me, and, unfortunately, there’s a lot of them. Their function seems to be twofold:

they are the form of most of the world-building, explaining several customs, the history of the institutions and peoples Mia meets, and the mythology followed by the people of the Republic.

they allow for the narrator of our story to interrupt with comical one-liners or cryptic foreshadowing

In my humble opinion, both of these are unnecessary and stupid. The interruptions come off as crass and immature and make the other more textbook, boring exposition come off as a joke, especially when it is dealing with sensitive or serious topics. There is one that explains this brothel called the Seven Flavors, which the footnote explains refer to “Boy, Girl, Man, Woman, Pig, Horse, and, if sufficient notice and coin was given, Corpse.” Now, on its own, this passing mention of pedophilia, bestiality, and necrophilia could very well contribute to the world building and tone of the novel, but when placed side by side with the childish, joking tone of the “cue the violiiiiiiiins” or, regarding the acoustics of a room, “…they were, as it happens, exceptional. Falalalalalalaaaaaaaa”, come off as way too light-hearted for the topic at hand. Maybe I’m being way too sensitive, but I’m pretty tired of authors using serious topics as off-hand remarks as a lazy way to make their world daker and grittier. Plus, these footnotes were just so incredibly cringy that I would recoil from second-hand embarrassment every time. They resemble the things I wrote when I was 14 and trying (and miserably failing) to be funny. Also… there are way too many of them. While at first I appreciated the attempt to deepen the lore of the story (I’m a sucker for world-building), after a while it became evident that the author was just forcing information down our throats without taking the time to actually weave the lore and background into the story itself. It came off as a very lazy way to force exposition.

OVERLY FLOWERY LANGUAGE

This story is BRIMMING with similes and metaphors, like every other sentence is some overly complicated way to describe something that could have been presented in three words. When you include so many metaphors/similes/etc., they begin to lose power. They should allow the reader to extrapolate more meaning and emotion from a sentence, but if the book is bursting at the seams with them, they become increasingly ordinary, to the point of losing all of their luster. One prime example appears on page 30:

“It was a bucktoothed little shithole, and no mistake. Not the most miserable building in all creation. [here there is a footnote about some other inn/brothel] But if the inn were a man and you stumbled into him in a bar, you’d be forgiven for assuming he had—after agreeing enthusiastically to his wife’s request to bring another woman into their marriage bed—discovered his bride making up a pallet for him in the guest room.”

So first of all what the fuck is that supposed to mean? That whole paragraph is a fever dream. Let’s begin with “bucktoothed little shithole”. Bucktoothed? Really? What does that mean. Please, someone explain to be right now what a bucktoothed building is. Is it uneven? Is it awkward? Is it half-finished? Is one side longer than the other? Did they do a bad paint job that only covers on side? Are the windows askew? Is the door too big for its frame? We already know from the paragraph above that it is “disheveled” as well, so why the need for another weird phrasing of its appearance? We then move on to that whole JOURNEY of a sentence, where the inn is compared to a man being cuckolded. That is the most insane tale-can you imagine running into someone in a bar and that story being the VERY FIRST thing that runs through your mind??? I know I’m focusing way too much on this stupid paragraph, but basically what I am trying to get at is that even though we spend half a page talking about how bucktoothed and disheveled and cuckolded this building is, we get no actual physical description of it. Imagine if Kristoff had just written that it was a run-down, ill-kept building that looked as worse for wear as its owner did. Done, one sentence. Great. Let’s move on. Instead, we spend so long reading these absolutely batshit descriptions that ultimately tell us next to nothing. Flowery language is placed over actual context. You may think that a description this long and complex means that this inn is a significant or recurring setting in the novel. Nope. It’s not. Mia leaves and that’s that. The reason that I’m focusing so much on this objectively irrelevant paragraph is because it is so representative of the biggest issue I have with the writing in this book. There are so many unnecessary comparisons that function only to make the author feel clever rather than add anything to the story at all. It’s very à la 2010s Tumblr.

THE (IN MY OPINION, BAD) WRITING

For the first half of the book, we are constantly being TOLD things rather than being SHOWN things. With the exception of one of the teachers cutting off Mia’s arm, we rarely see the ruthlessness that the assassins are so feared for, but we hear about it in nearly every other sentence Where are the consequences? I think this book would have been way more enjoyable if there were actually consequences to the characters’ actions. The inclusion of the weaver and the weird vampire guy completely remove any tension regarding the fate of the central cast. When Mia had her arm chopped off, I was shocked, and pleasantly surprised. How was she going to overcome this unexpected obstacle in her training? Then a couple pages later, its reattached with absolutely no lasting consequences. All of the initial tension and shock value of the loss of Mia’s arm is entirely removed because of the two incest-y siblings. Their entire purpose for existing is just to undo all damage to the main characters. Then suddenly, out of the blue, Mia is willing to take on a ton of consequences and completely throw away her chance at becoming initiated in order to avenge her family just to save Tric from receiving like one punishment??? Like why?? As an aside, the only moment I truly enjoyed was when Ash fucking stabbed Tric to death. I assume that when the reader’s favorite moment is one of the central characters’ death, it does not bode well for their reception of the book.

THE THEMES

TW: rape-y subjects

The author seemed a little too keen to include rape and sexual assault in his story. Mia withdrew her consent in the sex scene in the very first chapter, and even if you read it as consensual (which I do not), it is described as incredibly unpleasant on her end. Tric is the result of a rape, which is brought up several times throughout the story. Further, Mia is constantly facing harassment from men. I understand that this is frames the idea that the world she lives in is misogynistic and ruthless, but there are other ways to push that idea through other than constantly putting in her in those situations. As in, this didn’t need to be the ONLY way we explored this subject. Beyond the uncomfortable propensity for sexual assault, I also very much disliked the sexualization of the 16-year-old main character. Oh. My. Gosh. Mia is CONSTANTLY sexualized. Every single damn character makes comments about her body, how hot she is, how much sex she potentially has. It is so weird and uncomfortable. I feel the need to reiterate that she is SIXTEEN. There is, however, a focus placed on the power Mia can gain from seducing her targets. Girl power? Not to me, really. The issue I have with this is the idea that a woman has to be overtly sexual in order to be considered powerful. This is something that we can see in many female assassins and supposedly powerful female characters in fiction (like Black Widow) especially those written by men. Now, there is nothing wrong with using one’s sexuality as a weapon, and I’m certainly not saying that a strong female character cannot be sexual, but the idea that a sixteen-year-old girl is shown having her body painfully modified tp be more desirable, and in a graphic sex scene with another character, in order to for the reader to read her as liberated and powerful does not sit well with me. I don’t really feel like this aspect of her training should be relevant to the overall story. I wish the time that Kristoff had dedicated to hammering into our heads that Mia is a femme fatale to developing her Darkin powers instead. The way she is written now feels more like she is a faux strong female character written for a male audience.

Secondly, Mia is fully written as “the plain-girl-who-is-actually-pretty”. This whole trope bothers me IMMENSELY. YA is full of girls who are described as plain, forgettable, or ugly while their physical descriptions are just the dictionary definition of conventionally attractive. It seems like a way to market off of girls’ self-consciousness while still being able to market the main character as a hot heroine in official art. And there is, of course, the issue of Mia’s boob job Readwithcindy (just “withcindy” now!) did a whole video about this so I won’t get into it much just to repeat what she already said, but I agree that the idea of a 30-something year old man including this completely unnecessary detail regarding the sexualization of teenage girl, who we have ALREADY seen in a rape and being sexualized by other men in the story, made me really, really, uncomfortable. I highly recommend you go watch her video, as she touches on this in way more detail. [Cindy's video

RATINGS

Worldbuilding: ★★☆☆☆

A lot of thought obviously went into the world-the mythology, society, and politics are well-thought out. But the way they are introduced is annoying and bland. It seems like the author put a lot of effort into constructing this world but realized a lot of it would be left out of the book, so he crammed it into footnotes instead.

Tone and writing style: ★☆☆☆☆ for first half, ★★★☆☆ for second half

The tone of the first half is all over the place, like it doesn’t know if it should be dark and gritty or comical and immature. Footnotes and character dialogue ranges from lighthearted and crass to seeped with themes of torture and sexual assault. It is jarring, to say the least, and often feels like the author doesn’t take these ideas of rape or violence seriously. There are so many instances where the scene is tense or gritty, and Kristoff is actually writing it pretty well, I’m enthralled and on the edge of my seat, and then Mia or some other character (or the footnotes) throw in some stupid comment or make the same “Mia is such an asshole lol” joke for the billionth time and completely ruin the mood of that scene. The second half of the book moved much faster and was helped with way better writing, but it really did not do enough to make up for the horrendous structure of the first half of the book.

Pacing and structure: ★☆☆☆☆

The first half of the book really drags on. Once we arrive at the school, there are constant jumps in timeline, marked with periods when a thousand things happen all at once and the plot moves forward at a dizzying rate, and others when the characters just seem to be going about their daily lessons.

Concept: ★★★☆☆

I found the overall idea of the books to be very interesting, even though it is certainly not the most original or unique concept for a YA fantasy book. The issue is that the potential is squandered with a poor execution.

Characters: ★☆☆☆☆

I truly did not care about any of the characters. The token mean girl, the bumbling nice-guy-who-is-definitely-the-love-interest. too many of the characters just sat nicely within their tropes, doing nothing much to pique my interests. I think my favorite overall was Mister Kindly.