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familyvideostevie · 7 months

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steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction

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berry-potchy · 15 days

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Dad's Best Friend!Miguel part 2

Summary: Your dad shows up unannounced, interrupting your romantic dinner with Miguel. He plants seeds of doubt in your pretty little head that Miguel is more than happy to snip off

Tags: DBF!Miguel x F!Reader, age gap, college age reader, P in V sex, size difference (smaller reader), brief under the table footjob, spanking, insecurities, vague mention of Miguel’s past relationships, uncomfortable relationship talk with your dad who means well but ends up making you feel like shit anyway

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Surprise! The second part actually exists. It’s been almost a year since part one and I kept teasing part 2 but I couldn’t think of a way to end it. I considered just abruptly cutting it off and post it but I just couldn’t do it. BUT HERE IT IS NOW. Hope you guys still enjoy it!

Part 1

It has been a week since Miguel has caught you masturbating to the thought of him. A week since you found out that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. A week of absolute depravity that you thought only happened in porn. He fucked you all over the house; no room, furniture, or surface was left untouched during your vigorous lovemaking.

Unfortunately, his “sick leave” had to come to an end and so did your self-imposed break from uni. He’s going back to work the next day so you decided you were going to do something special and make the most of the last evening of his leave. Of course, there’ll be more times to fuck but you feel the need to give him something special before he goes back to his workaholic mode. Maybe it’ll encourage him to start coming home earlier.

You had everything planned. You and Miguel had a lovely early dinner that he helped you prepare. The way it was so easy to fall into a domestic routine made your heart flutter. You’d have to ask him if you can do this with him more often when he’s not so busy with work. You also had wine that Miguel picked out for both of you. You trusted his mature tastes even though you knew he preferred hard liquor. And for dessert, well…

“That’s it, gatita,” Miguel grunted in your ear, a deep growl rumbles from his chest as he rams his fat cock relentlessly into your greedy cunt. “Taking my cock so well. I’m gonna miss this when I’m at work tomorrow. Gonna think about your tight little pussy while I’m in a boring meeting.”

You can’t form any coherent words from how aggressive his thrusts were. Each thrust drove his cock deeper into you, his tip kissing your cervix, knocking the air out of your lungs and the words out of your little cock drunk brain. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and your arms holding his broad shoulders for support, hands desperately clawing at his back. You clung to him tightly as he fucked you standing up in the middle of the kitchen. He took full control of your body, his large hands on your waist, moving you up and down his cock as he pleased, like you’re his personal living cocksleeve.

“My little slut can’t even talk anymore,” he laughs at your pathetic whimpers and whines “Taking my cock like a good girl. Going to make sure you feel it until tomorrow.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck panting, mumbling “please” over and over again against his skin. Your tits are pressed against him, sensitive nipples rubbing against the dusting of dark hair on his chest with every movement. The burning knot in your stomach is threatening to come undone.

“You’re gonna cum for me, princesa?” he said as his thrusts grow frantic. “Wanna feel your pussy milk my cock dry. She’s so greedy for my cum. Sucking me in so good I can’t even try to pull out.”

You arch your back as you feel your orgasm rip through you, making you see white for a second. Miguel catches you, an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders to keep you from falling over as he keeps on rutting into you to chase after his own climax. He pulls you closer to him to capture your mouth into a kiss as you feel his hot cum coat your velvety walls. You moan against his lips, giving his tongue access to your mouth, making you melt in his arms.

You reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He coos at how absolutely wrecked you looked, the pretty makeup you did for him all smeared and messed up. The red of your lipstick is no longer on your lips but all over Miguel – on his lips, cheeks, neck, chest, trailing all the way down to the red ring near the base of his cock.

Miguel sets you down on the dining table, hands keeping your knees apart to watch his cum dripping out of your sloppy hole. Your hands grab your breasts, squeezing them together for his viewing pleasure. Miguel moans at the sight. You are so perfect to him.

“I’m going to see your dad again in the office tomorrow,” he says, kneeling in front of your spread legs, ready to eat his dessert. He licks his lips and rubs his large hands up and down your thighs “I’m sure he’s going to have questions. I’ll make sure to tell him how good you were, taking care of me and making me feel so much better.”

He was about to dive in when the doorbell rang. You hear him growl a string of Spanish curse words under his breath as he reluctantly stands up from where he was kneeling. He tries to calm down and you sit up to wipe the sweat and lipstick off his face. You help him put on his shirt, straightening it out as much as you can with your hands as he tucks away his half-hard cock in his sweatpants. You brush his messy hair back away from his forehead, trying to make him look presentable for when he answers the door.

“I’ll be quick,” he sighs, kissing you on your temple as he pulls away and walks out the room. You can’t help but be a little curious as to who is looking for Miguel this late in the evening. You try to stand up, snatching the silk robe you were wearing earlier to peek at the visitor when you hear an all too familiar voice echo in the halls.

“Miguel! You look like shit!” The loud booming voice of your father makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over?” Miguel said, trying to act normal as you hear him letting your dad in. “You should’ve called.”

“Well I did try to but neither you nor my daughter were answering,” he said “Anyway where is she? I brought you guys your favorites for dinner. I’ll even set up the dinner table for you.”

That got you to snap back to reality. Shit, shit, shit!

You start running to your room, careful not to leave a trail of Miguel’s cum on the floor. You try to wash off any traces of sex with a quick shower and change into a simple shirt and unfortunately with a bra and shorts on this time. Can’t have your dad know you parade around the house half-naked for a man twice your age.

Downstairs, Miguel’s boner is fully killed. He didn’t even get to clean you up with his tongue. Shame. Your dad is talking about work stuff but he’s only half-listening. He helps him set the table for your second dinner of the evening, not able to turn down his best friend lest he gets suspicious. He eyes a few white drops on the table and reluctantly wipes it with the hem of his shirt. His eyes meet yours as you enter the room, drying your hair with a towel. You give him a tight-lipped smile before going in to greet your dad.

You have an okay dinner together: Your dad did most of the talking, which is usually what happens between him and Miguel anyway. He also is still under the impression that Miguel was actually sick so he got a pass. You however have to pretend you aren’t annoyed that the night you planned is ruined as you answer his questions about uni.

“No boys? Partners? I told Miguel not to let you bring any around,” he says smugly to which Miguel smirks, taking a sip of the whisky your dad brought over.

“Dad, please,” you groan, sliding down on your chair, which makes him laugh out loud. You steal a glance at Miguel, pouting, and he’s laughing along. Traitor.

“I just wanted to be sure my baby’s focusing on her studies,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender before adding “and that I don’t end up a grandpa too soon.”

They keep laughing but thankfully, Miguel changes the topic. You give him a look of relief and rub your foot on his leg as a silent thank you. He keeps talking to your dad, pretending not to feel your foot stray further up until it rests on his inner thigh, the tip of your toe toying with the outline of his cock. He grabs your ankle but doesn’t stop you. He instead moves to sit a little closer to the table so you can rub the sole of your foot against his clothed length.

You’re playing a dangerous game. Your dad is right there he could look under the table and find his precious daughter giving his best friend a footjob in front of the dinner and alcohol he so graciously brought over. But you were feeling petty about your ruined plans and Miguel doesn’t seem to mind the attention to his cock.

You bite your lip, feeling his cock harden under your touch. He must feel sticky and uncomfortable under his sweatpants after not being able to wipe his dick of your combined fluids when your dad barged in. You wish your dad decides to leave early so you could get on your knees for Miguel and lick him clean.

Miguel eventually excuses himself, coughing that he needs to go to the bathroom, probably to jerk off and shower. You start clearing up the table and your dad offers to help.

“So,” he starts wiping the table “I see the way you look at Miguel.”

You freeze, trying not to drop the stack of plates you’re holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You start loading the dishwasher, trying not to make it obvious that your hands are shaking.

“Hey, no need to get defensive. I know what I saw,” he says “And I mean, you’re a young single lady and Miguel is this handsome, cool, older guy that’s a constant in your day-to-day. It’s not wild to have a crush on him. I’m just…”

Silence.

“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt when he doesn’t return your feelings,” he sighs as he leans his hip on the counter next to you. He’s trying to look you in the eyes, trying to let you know that he’s being sincere. “Believe me that man has no time for romance. He’s all busy with his work. Plus I’ve seen the women he slept with before. All supermodel looking and yet… well they never last long.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, dad,” you roll your eyes at him, trying hard to ignore the feeling of wanting to throw up. You don’t want to think about that. About the specifics of what you and Miguel have going on. You’re just trying to enjoy Miguel’s attention right now. For the longest time, you didn’t even think you had the chance. Is it really that bad to just accept what he’s willing to give right now?

“I’m not saying you’re not beautiful, honey! Of course, you’re beautiful! You’re my daughter,” he tries to lighten the mood but turns serious when you don’t laugh. “Just might not be his type. Besides, he’s twice your age. He's too close to your old man’s age. Are you sure that’s something you’d like? In a few years, he’d be just as uncool as me while you’re still young and should be enjoying your life.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. You both stay silent for a few moments. You think about Miguel and try to look for signs. Signs that say he just wants sex or that he wants something more. All you can think about is how sweet he always was with you even before you had sex. Even more now. You blush remembering how Miguel peppered your face with kisses this morning to wake you up because he wanted to cook breakfast but didn’t want to leave you in bed.

“Okay, but what if he does?” you countered, suddenly gaining a bit of confidence. “Would you be okay with that? If we get into a relationship?”

A painful few seconds of silence that felt like forever.

“I know that look in your eyes,” he finally says, shaking his head, and sighing. “It’s your “I’m going to get what I want” look you got from your mom. You’re gonna get hurt.”

You cross your arms and pout, never one to back down.

“And if he does end up liking you,” he starts again and you side-eye him “well… good thing he doesn't.”

You groan as your dad messes up your hair, laughing as he sees Miguel come back, fresh from his shower. Your dad finally decides it’s time to head out and let the sick man rest. He gives you a tight hug and a kiss on your forehead before leaving.

You’re left alone with Miguel again in the kitchen. The earlier conversation with your dad soured your mood and left you zoning out. Miguel slips himself between your parted legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, large, warm hands kneading your thighs, fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

“What’s on your mind, princesa?” He leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Tell me.”

You try to turn away but he brings a curled finger under your chin to make you face him. His brows are furrowed, worried. You try to look at him and your heart stutters. You don’t want whatever you have with him to end. You’re not sure if you actually want something serious with Miguel but the thought of just being a bedwarmer to Miguel is upsetting.

“Just thinking,” you start, trying to get the words out without sounding jealous or spiteful “My dad said you used to date? Sleep around with? Whatever. The girls you were with before were all… supermodel looking. They’re probably tall and skinny and drop-dead gorgeous huh? Is that your type?”

“And where is this going, nena?” Miguel whispers, pulling away and giving you a stern look.

“Well, I’m just not like that?” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips and shying away from his gaze. “I don’t know why you gave me the chance. I’m just-”

Miguel’s gentle touch on your chin turns into him gripping your cheeks, making you shut up. You nervously look at him, a deep frown on his face.

“Don’t you ever put yourself down, cariño,” he says, his eyes sharp. He makes you keep your eyes on him while he uses his other hand to pull you closer, making you wrap your legs around his waist. “You know, at the start, I offered to let you stay here just because I wanted to mentor you when I had the time. I know you’re a brilliant girl, so intelligent, following in your dad’s footsteps. What I didn’t expect is for you to consume my thoughts day and night for the past few months. You’ve grown into such a beautiful lady, cariño. You are such a temptation, making me think about your pretty eyes looking up so innocently at me. Those lips tempt me every single time you pout at me to get your way.”

He growls, finally letting go of your face to move his hands to your ass. He suddenly bucks his hips against yours making you gasp out loud, your clothed cunt rubbing against his growing bulge. You try to move your hips to gain friction on your throbbing cunt but he keeps you still.

“Don’t even get me started on this body of yours,” he buries his face at the crook of your neck, kissing, licking, nipping at the sensitive flesh making your head roll to the side to give him more access “So perfect for me. Made for me to grab, to fuck, to worship. Dios mio, nena, I can’t get enough of you.”

He sounds drunk from your scent and taste, mouthing at your neck, hands kneading your flesh. He grabs handfuls of the soft fat of your thighs, your ass, your tummy rolls, your plump tits, and back down, committing each curve to memory. You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure when he laps at your pulse with his skillful tongue.

“So I don’t wanna hear any of that nonsense comparing yourself to women I didn’t care about then and I sure don’t care about now,” he growls as he picks you up and flips you around. He bends you over the counter, stomach against the cold marble top and the rounded edges digging at the tops of your thighs. Your feet can’t quite reach the floor so you settle for trying to wrap your legs around Miguel’s own. He yanks your shorts and panties down to your knees in one aggressive motion.

“My silly beautiful girl getting jealous over old flings and exes,” he hummed, his large hands massaging your ass, kneading the cheeks, spreading them with his thumbs. “They’re not here anymore, are they? Didn’t work out with them and they’re not in my life anymore. And I prefer it that way.”

You feel him spit on your hole, dripping down to mix with your own wetness. You drop your head onto the countertop, the heated skin on your face making the marble feel icy. He takes your wrists, securing your hands behind your back with his own large hand while his other still massages your ass. Your eyes flutter, enjoying the sensation when you hear a loud smack cut through the momentary silence.

“Mig-” you yelp as you feel a sharp sting on your right ass cheek. His hand goes back to massaging, trying to soothe your reddened skin. You whine as he gives your other cheek the same treatment. Two matching red handprints bloom on both your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be listening to your dad about my type when I was much younger,” he says, his voice low and serious as he leans down to press his sculpted chest on your back “Because right now there’s nothing I want more than this pequeña prinscesa whose toes can't even reach the floor when I bend her over the kitchen counter. You love that too don't you? How I’m much bigger than you? How easily I can carry you around, bend you over, and fuck you whenever I want? Love folding you in half and using your pretty pussy- no, my pretty pussy. This is mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed. Isn’t that right?

You nod enthusiastically not trusting your voice to speak. the words he growls at your ear going straight to your cunt. You feel another hard smack go down your ass, the impact making you slide a bit on the counter. His hands pull you back by the waist to press his erection against your dripping cunt, your wetness soaking through his sweatpants.

“Use your words when you answer me, nena,” he growls, grinding himself against your folds. The friction from the fabric of his sweatpants feels heavenly against your puffy folds.

“Yessss,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him “all yours. Need you to fuck this pussy please, please, please!”

“How can I say no when my baby girl is begging so nicely?” he coos, pulling down his sweatpants to free his cock. He takes it in his hand and presses the tip in. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your velvety walls welcome him back, still stretched out from your earlier activities.

“Perfect,” Miguel groans as he wastes no time to fuck into your slutty little hole that’s sucking him in so lewdly. “Made for me. Mi princesa needs to learn that no one can compare to her. She’s so perfect. And she’s mine. Only mine. And I am hers.”

“Yo-urs– M-ah, Miguel,” you whimper as he keeps hitting all the right places, his tip hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust until you’re once again pushed over the edge of sweet release. Your gummy walls contract, milking Miguel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He follows shortly after with a deep moan, his cock coating your insides with his warm seed.

Miguel makes no move to pull out. Instead he peppers your shoulders and neck with kisses, humming in contentment, whispering sweet endearments. Your heart fills with warmth and before you could even think about it, the words just leave your mouth.

“I love you, Miguel”

Silence. Anxiety starts to bubble in your chest as you start to think that you’ve read all the signs wrong. But before you could take it back, Miguel turns you to lie on your back, facing him. He leans down to capture your lips in his, his hands pulling you closer as if he was afraid you’d leave if he lets go. He mumbles “I love you” against your lips over and over again for the rest of the night making sure you never doubt his feelings for you ever again.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara #potchy-writes #dbf!miguel #dad's best friend miguel ohara #dilf miguel ohara

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generalllimaginesss · 5 months

Text

Here’s a little piece based on Megan Moroney’s song Reasons to Stay.

Warnings: angsty bf! Jack, toxic relationship (you can usually tell if I’m depressed or not based on what I post lmao), but like this is really really toxic so don’t read if that’s a trigger for you. I think I made myself go crazy while rereading it.

Reasons to Stay

I asked Jesus for a sign

And today I haven’t cried

It’s only 2 p.m. but that beats yesterday

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

The status of having an NHL boyfriend was alluring to a lot of girls. The fame was something that always felt new, thousands of people, strangers, screaming the name that you hold near and dear to your heart. The money eased the fear of bills and gave a freedom the average person would never experience in their lifetime. The influence that you hold as a WAG always playing in the back of your mind anytime your finger hovered over a button to post a picture, wondering if the caption was classy enough to hold your status.

The truth is that looks can be deceiving. The girls that threw themselves at Jack made for a constant state of insecurities to pool in your brain, sloshing around anytime Jack was home late or turned his location off. The money bought things that made you smile, a Louis Vuitton here, a Mercedes there, but the feeling of being in debt to the man that let hate spew from his mouth anytime you accidentally stepped out of line pulled at your being, anxiety grasping at the freedom, one not capable of being present without the other.

Was it really freedom?

Was it the price of freedom?

Maybe.

Maybe the price was the amount of tears that flowed when he rejected an outfit for you to wear.

“You’re not leaving in that. I don’t date sluts and that makes you look like one,” his reasoning rang, slicing through your ears and bouncing around anytime you bought clothes.

Today was a good day, though.

He had kissed you goodbye, asking if you would be making dinner tonight.

He’d be home tonight, you thought, willing yourself to think positive and fighting against the urge to dwell on the fact that he had come home with a hickey the night prior. He insisted it was a hickey, but you weren’t too sure about that.

But he’s yours tonight, that’s all that matters. That keeps you going; the possibility that tomorrow he will be yours is your driving thought. So you went about your day as if the life you were living were a dream and that you were living the life as the girlfriend of a famous hockey player who made millions.

Maybe it’s normal to have to be small. Maybe you just have to compensate for the huge platform that he had. He had earned it after all.

Seriously, what did you do other than keep the house tidy and go to his games? That’s normal….right?

You just had to tell yourself that it would be ok. It would be harder and messier to leave than try to push through.

And when you’re drunk at 3 a.m.

You don’t call your ex-girlfriend

It’s been a couple months since you

Brought up her name.

So I guess that’s a reason to stay.

The guys had gone out after a win, guys only. No girlfriends or wives. That’s what Jack said, at least. They were celebrating the guys achievements, some records broken, and it was just for them.

That was fine with you. He had an amazing game: his second hatty of his career. He needed a night to let off some steam and just be a boy.

The picture of him and Nico with Jack’s ex looming in the background was just a coincidence, yeah? Jack said she was a puck bunny, so she’s probably just going from guy to guy.

As soon as he walked through the door, the smell of bourbon wafted through the air, attaching itself to every air molecule in the apartment and meeting you like a familiar friend. This wasn’t the first time he had come home in this state. It wasn’t even the 5th or 6th.

“You’re up,” Jack’s words were slower than normal, the effort to produce the words coherently proving to be more tasking than normal. He took in the view of you curled up in an Ugg blanket on the plush cushions of the couch, noticing the lines that the tears had been drawing for the past hour. He took note, but not responsibility. He told you where he was and what he was doing, no harm no foul.

“Just couldn’t go to sleep,” Your voice was weakened, something you despised about yourself. You used to view yourself as strong and independent. Sticking up for what was right was was something you took pride in, but being in a relationship with Jack had slowly chipped away at that, so nonchalantly that you were the skeleton of who you once were before you could do anything about it.

Jack’s balance teetered from the left to the right, making a ship at sea during a storm look like a walk through the park. He stumbled as he tried to take his shoes off, a cue that you learned meant you needed to help him.

He did so much for you, so would it really be awful to just help him out?

As you slipped one AirForce off, you took notice of the bruises that feathered his legs, probably from the intense game tonight.

You could feel courage bubble, coming to a boil before you made your next statement, “I noticed your ex in a picture that Nico posted…what’s that about?”

“Baby,” He slurred, attempting to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear but pulling it instead, kissing your forehead after you winced at the tension. “You’re the only one that matters,” And with that he sucked you right back into his intoxicating blue eyes. They held a secret confession of his love for you. One that only you could see and he could feel.

But you don’t try like you used to

You don’t look at me the same

You used to say you’re sorry, now

Whiskey’s what you blame

How much can a heart take

‘Til it’s really your last chance

I’m a giver, but I’ve given all I can

We both know that I ain’t one to walk away

But I’m runnin’ out of reasons to stay

Things hadn’t always been like this.

Jack hadn’t always been like this.

He used to surprise you at work with two dozen roses, or wrote sweet love notes on sticky notes and stuck them to your vanity. He used to put in effort.

He used to want you.

What were you thinking, of course he still wanted you. He wouldn’t be in a relationship with you for the whole world to see if he didn’t want you, right?

He hadn’t bought flowers in a long time, though, and the sticky notes had slowly made their way to a drawer for safekeeping, none there to replace them. The vanity was bare, loneliness radiating from it every time you passed it, the feeling resonating in your soul.

It was as lonely as you.

Jack had come home drunk again last night, the smell of the liquor laced the words he shot at you with a poison that made them burn when they hit you. Everything that came out of his mouth felt like lashes against your skin.

“You’re so fucking boring, Y/N! You think you’re so perfect and you’re not! You think you’re better than everybody around you, but you’re not! You’re a fucking bitch, you cunt!”

He went on like that for at least an hour, going on and on about how he deserved better, how he could have anybody he wanted but settled for you.

It hurt even worse because it was so untrue. You battled with yourself for years because you compared yourself to those around you constantly. Jack knew this. He had been there for your breakdowns when your family had made you feel like a disappointment, or when you never thought you would be as pretty or talented as the other girls in the hockey scene.

Did he just forget this?

How were you going to smooth this over with him?

It felt like all you did was make excuses for him just to be able to live with him.

Why?

How did he completely change you? Wreck you? He had gutted out who you once were and left the bare beams that held you up. He had conditioned you to allow him chance after chance, no matter how bad he had fucked up.

And you just let him.

As the sun played a game of peekaboo through the curtains, you had made up your mind that you couldn’t justify the way he was treating you anymore. It was wrong.

The smell of bacon and eggs lured you into the kitchen to see him shirtless, standing over the stove as he busied himself with making breakfast. His back muscles flexed as he maneuvered about the stove. He looked perfect, as if he hadn’t verbally assaulted you and your character last night.

Before you could say anything, he had sensed that he was being watched, catching a glimpse of you as he turned his head slightly to the left.

“Morning. Didn’t wake you up, did I?” His voice was raspy, probably from partying for most of the night, but it sounded like he cared. It was refreshing.

“N-no. Um, I just felt like I should get up,” Reassuring him felt like an attempt to just keep the peace. Don’t say anything to set him off, don’t be combative. He’s cooking breakfast for you, so everything’s ok.

“Good. Hey, about last night…I’ll be honest I don’t remember what I said, but if it was bad it was just from me drinking too much. The boys may have gotten me to drink more than I normally do…” he trailed off as he plated the breakfast he had made for you, placing it on a placemat at the bar and pouring a cup of coffee for you, 3 creams and 2 sugars.

He remembered.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You walked to the bar taking a seat.

The morning consisted of the two of you genuinely enjoying the presence of the other, catching up on what’s going on in each other’s lives and promising to not let it get this way anymore.

Before Jack left for practice, he had placed a kiss to your lips ever so gently, “I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft and sweet.

How was this the same Jack from last night?

You were sure that you had to be going crazy.

If I go find somebody new

I’d lose your mom and sister too

You know me and how much I hate change

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

And I ain’t perfect either, we all make mistakes

But that don’t change

The Michigan sunset was absolutely breathtaking. The orange and purple hues painting a picture so perfect that it could never be replicated on a canvas. The distant sounds of the guys on the lake could be heard in the distance, the chill of the wind carrying the hoots and hollers from the water to you and Ellen, sitting on the deck attached to the back of the house.

The smell of the deck and the sound of the hundreds of frogs from the water felt like a dream, one that you never wanted to wake up from.

“Jack would probably kill me if he heard me say this, but I really hope you two get married soon. I’d love to have you as my daughter, you know? These boys are a lot sometimes…” Ellen chuckled as she nodded to the boys in the distance.

The comment caught you off guard, a response in favor felt forced, but how were you supposed to tell her that her son was making your life a living hell?

“You’d have to take that up with him,” You smiled at her, not revealing the relationship that was slowly eating away at you.

“I promised to never pressure them to do something that they weren’t ready for, so I’ll let him choose the right time. I just know we all love you. Anytime the other two call home they always ask how you’re doing. I know they talk to Jack about you, too. We didn’t think he’d ever be ready to settle down with a girlfriend, much less one as amazing as you,” She went on, pulling her jacket tighter around her as the absence of the sun left goosebumps on her skin.

“It’s getting cold out here, let’s head inside and you can help me make dinner. I believe we have some wine if you’d like some,” She stood up and headed to the kitchen, waiting for you to follow suite, you smiled.

It was almost a sad smile, grateful that even though Jack wasn’t the man he should’ve been for you, his family loved you. They made you feel safe and loved. They were a safe haven from the toxic tendencies that Jack had taken up when the two of you were in New Jersey.

“I’d love that, Ellen.”

The sound of bare feet padding rapidly against the blades of grass that ran from the dock to the deck made you and Ellen turn your heads towards the window, watching on as Quinn, Luke, and Jack were racing towards the house.

Luke won, his long legs giving him an unfair advantage against his shorter counterparts. Quinn came in second as Jack has tripped over himself.

“What’s for dinner?” Luke panted, reaching for a water bottle out of the fridge and attempting to sit on the couch.

“You’ll find out after you change out of your wet swim trunks,” Ellen gave him a stern look, him raising his arms in defense as he left to go to his room for dry clothes.

You felt an arm snake around your waist, the smell of lake water and sunscreen following behind it. At first you jumped, worried that you had done something wrong.

He chuckled at the sudden movement, not realizing that he was the problem.

“Jumpy, are we?”

You smiled, trying to not cause an issue with him.

“Sorry. Wasn’t expecting you to be so cold,” You felt nasty as you lied through your teeth.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to retreat to the shower to wash the day off of him. You took in your surroundings while he was away.

Quinn and Luke played the Xbox while Ellen prepared the vegetables for dinner and Jim smoked the meat outside. You had been loving this family for years now. You and Ellen had become so close, easily somebody you loved as if she were your own mother.

Jack wouldn’t be the only person that you would have to let go of if you were to leave. As much as you loved his family, it was only natural for them to take his side, something that you understood and admired. You could only wish somebody would take up for you no matter what, and he had 4 people willing to do that for him.

You couldn’t imagine the thought of having to start over with somebody new, having to meet their parents for the first time and being disappointed that they weren’t Ellen and Jim. Being disappointed that their siblings wouldn’t pay the extra money when they accidentally forgot to keep your Snapchat streak going since it was almost 4 years long. Quinn and Luke texted you almost as often as they texted Jack. You were like their sister.

The thought of starting over was enough to have tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. Whatever Jack had done, you couldn’t expect him to be perfect. He’s human, after all. You’d stay if it meant you could keep the Hughes in your life.

I'm runnin' out of patience

Damn, I hate to say it

I'm runnin' out of patience and grace and at the end of the day

Findin' last resort reasons we're okay

Ain't a good reason to stay

“Jack you have purple bruises all on your fucking neck! How stupid do you think I am?!” You barked at him as he sat on the couch facing you.

“Stupid enough to think this is the first time this has happened,” His smug smirk and body language made you want to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him as bad as he’s hurt you for so long now.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Jack Hughes. You are the most disgusting person I have ever met and I hope your life becomes a living hell that you can never get out of,” The words came out calmly despite their harsh meaning. It was eerie, making the hairs on Jack’s neck stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going,” He watched as you made your way to the shared bedroom, hearing the sound of a suitcase zipper open.

He jumped up, heading straight for you, but froze as he watched you throw clothes into the suitcase. When that one became full you found another one to shove your clothes into, until the only things left were things you didn’t normally wear.

“What are you doing?” He spat, realizing that the grip he had on you was being relinquished.

“What does it fucking look like? I’m done. I’ve gone crazy trying to love you and I want out. I can’t do this anymore!” You tried to yell, but your throat constricted as it tried its best to sob. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that, though. He had put you in this state of survival long enough.

“You’re going to regret this…” He trailed off, following you as you threw everything into your car.

“Maybe so, Jack. But I will never regret it as much as I regret falling in love with you. You are an awful person, and I hope everybody will see that one day,” You slammed the door shut and put the car in reverse.

As you made your way down the driveway and street, Jack’s figure became smaller and smaller. Nobody would ever make you feel this way ever again, and you felt sorry for whoever fell into the trap that is Jack Hughes after you.

HAHA IM SO SORRY!! Also this in no way reflects who Jack is in real life because I, obviously, don’t know him personally. This was so bad though, so I’m actually really sorry.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #jh86 #toxic relationship #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #megan moroney

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hp-hcs · 7 months

Note

IM SO GAY FOR THEO ITS INSANE, Theodore Nott x ftm Reader PLEAAASE. Your fics got my kicking my legs and twirling my hair fr. Everytime i see you update I get so EXCITED

you are so fuckin sweet cmere lemme mwah 😚💋

this one is not particularly good nor coherent, cause it’s really late and i have no idea how my eyes are still open ngl but this request was just SO GOOD i couldn’t wait till tomorrow xx

scars — roommate! theodore nott x ftm! post top surgery! reader

how is this man allowed to exist istg

Warnings: reader has had top surgery, the author has not (yet); may be inaccurate idfk

requests r open mfs. be like this rad anon. request.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You turned off the water, stepping out of the shower. After drying off, you realized you’d made a mistake.

You’d forgotten a shirt.

Not that big a deal, right? Wrong.

Two large scars cut their way across your chest. A source of pride for you, but one that still made you a bit self conscious nonetheless.

You could hear your roommate, Theodore, banging around just outside the door. You started to mentally panic.

Theodore didn’t know you were transgender. You’re fucked.

You cursed under your breath, buttoning up your pants and running a hand through your hair as you considered your options.

You could wrap your towel around your chest? No, that’s even more obvious.

You could ask him to hand you a shirt? But then he’d want to know why.

You could just hide in the bathroom until he goes away? That’s pathetic, no.

Cursing whatever higher power that gave you the wrong fucking body to begin with, you decided on your last real option:

4. Just act confident.

That was the stupidest option yet.

You chewed your lip, sighing before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping out into your dorm room.

Maybe he just won’t notice?

“Hey, Y/N, have you seen m- oh.”

Nevermind. You’re fucked.

Theodore stared at you. He was half dressed himself, standing there in only his plaid pajama bottoms. A quick spike of envy hit as you imagined what it would be like to have a body like his, one that you could just walk around shirtless in like it was no big deal.

It didn’t help that your roommate was also hot as hell.

Theodore’s eyes flicked from your face to your chest, then back up to your face. His mouth hung open slightly as he studied the large scars.

“U-uh…m-my sweater. Have you seen it?” He awkwardly recovered.

“On your desk,” you supplied, passing by him and picking your shirt up off of your bed where you must’ve left it.

He didn’t make any move towards his desk, still just standing still. “Er…Y/N…?”

You pulled your shirt on and started doing up the buttons. “Yeah?”

“What’s- what’re those from? Your scars?”

His hand suddenly came to rest lightly on your shoulder, startling you. As you turned to look at him, he snatched his hand back. Although you looked deep into his eyes, you saw no judgement, only curiosity.

“Top surgery.”

His hands, seemingly of their own volition, moved up to clasp over each of yours, effectively stopping you from buttoning your shirt up further. He slowly pulled your hands away from the row of buttons, letting go of your hands once they reached your sides, then unbuttoning the few buttons you’d managed to get done.

Fuck, that’s hot. You’re fucked.

Your shirt hung open, and he took the opportunity to push it off your shoulders. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you were convinced that you must’ve you stopped breathing minutes ago when he paused, his fingers hovering over one of your scars.

“Can I?” He whispered.

You nodded, unable to say anything. He rested his hands on either side of your ribcage, smoothing his thumbs over the ends of the scars.

You shivered, standing still so that he could continue. He held onto you like you were a prized treasure; something to be revered.

“Fucking gorgeous, Y/N,” he mumbled, seemingly more to himself than anything. “Prettiest boy in this whole damn school.”

Mouth hanging open in shock, you thought nothing of it before you were leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Pulling away, your cheeks heated up. Theodore’s eyes were blown wide, and his thumbs continued their motion across your ribs. He leaned forward himself and kissed you properly.

His hands left your torso, instead coming up to cup your face. He kissed you with slow, promising passion, crowding into your space and practically enveloping you in himself.

You eventually pulled away to gasp for air, and he chased after your mouth with his own.

His cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess from where you’d been running your fingers through it, his lips swollen and red.

He looks absolutely gorgeous.

Yep. You’re fucked.

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #gay #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #trans reader #trans #transgender #i love him #hes just so babygirl

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sparring-spirals · 1 month

Text

hello. to the person who sent me the ask about how to navigate fandom being kind of Blegh especially after. Exciting (contentious) moments like these. hello i am. Incredibly tired and the quick answer I wanted to give has ballooned intonlike 15 paragraphs i am not coherent enough to edit down rn so. instead. my Most Critical TL;DR so i can edit and post the ask tmr.

FUCK this still got long. putting a readmore in sorry.

- Do not feel bad about curating your fandom experience! Seriously. Blocking people or even not acknowledging certain people's posts does not have to be like. A moral judgement or anything. Follow people who you want to follow. Get friends who you can yell privately with.

- Do not feel bad about stepping away if seeing discussion and discourse is making you feel objectively Worse. Fandom is not a moral obligation, and you dont do yourself or anyone else a favor by continuing to look at things that upset you and making yourself feel worse. I cannot emphasize this enough. If looking at fandom stuff is exclusively making you feel worse, do yourself a kind gesture and. stop looking. u can leave. hit da bricks. etc.

- like related to the above, unfortunately there will always be some people who are just. Wrong On The Internet. You will not convince or correct them all. Nor can you stop them from posting. This is kind of something you just need to live with. Discussion and exploration of various views can be very beneficial! Just like. Yknow. Pick your battles.

- IMO People get really weird about character conflict and it gets quickly into Morally Right Vs Morally Wrong territory PLUS weird projections onto the cast. I have lots of opinions about this but i need to sleep so lets just say. People get weird. Emotions run high. feel free to disengage.

- There's been a lot of Events in the campaign recently, and being disappointed one way or another is understandable. There are different ways to approsch that particular sensation/feeling, but I'd say the biggest thing thats helped me is generally steering away from assuming malice or ill intent from the cast, as well as avoiding getting too caught up in assuming the story I am expecting is the only good iteration that can be told.

oh god this got so long. anyway sorry to the asker ill post the answer maybe tomorrow once ive slept and like. can edit. hopefully this is helpful in the meantime. to folks following me who did Not ask for me on a soapbox. i am very sorry. there will be more.

#i wanted to post the answer tn but i am sleeby enough that everything is vaguely foggy and i Do have to work tomorrow #and what i had was literally. so many paragraphs long . so. i tried to tldr. its still kind of long #anyway soz ill get to it i promise.#spar speaks #ok i am. so tired. sleeo time

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seredelgi · 2 years

Text

So lonely they coul die.

fandom: Elvis Presley/ Elvis (2022)

pairing: Elvis x Fem!Reader or Austin!Elvis x Fem!Reader

summary: Reader is a good Christian girl whose family has passed when she was 15, she was then raised by her mama’s best friend, Gladys Presley, alongside her son, Elvis.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: stepbro!elvis, a bit of angst, a bit of smut, dubious consent, he’s a bit controlling, but he does it ‘cause he’s in denial, reader is pretty much sexually frustrated, kind of innocent, bit of a “good girl” complex, cheating, as in reader cheats on her bf with EP, let me know if it needs more warnings.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: ok this is has been sitting in the drafts for a while because I was too nervous to post it. Also, I have no idea if it will have a part 2. English is not my mother tongue so it may contain errors but hey, I’m learning.

tags: @eliseinmemphis @galaxygirl453 @powerofelvis

"So... When can I see you again?" he whispers softly while holding your hand in his, looking at you with a charming sly smile, his big blue eyes sparkling languidly in your direction.

You're blushing fervently beneath the arch of your flat's front door, shooting a quick glance towards the kitchen, where Elvis should still be, and then meeting his eyes again.

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, biting your lower lip, pondering if maybe it's a bit early to set up another date.

Mike Weaver's one hell of a guy, that's for sure. You've been seeing him now for about six months, and you can tell he's got it just as bad for you as you do for him. It's in the way he looks at you, in the way he smiles when you're around, and in the revering sweetness of his touch.

Like right now, for example, he's gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as he waits for your answer. It's the kind of thing that just makes your heart flutter slightly as you try to focus on something remotely coherent to say.

" Why don't you come by tomorrow during my break and we'll set up a date for this weekend?" you murmur.

For some reason, you don't want Elvis to overhear your conversation. It's not like you're saying anything malicious, but still, you've seen how he's gotten with the men you've dated in the past.

This time tho, even he seemed to like Mike.

You have to admit, you were terrified when your boyfriend came up with the idea of this dinner, but unexpectedly, Elvis behaved. He laughed at Mike's jokes, complimented his handshake, and exchanged what seemed to be a genuinely nice conversation about who knows what football team.

You could feel it. He was the one.

After all, you've been dating him for a while now and you're both about the right age to start to think about settling down.

If he'd ask, you know you'd say yes.

" As the lady wishes" Mike grins at you, and if possible, you redden even more than you already had, the circles he's tracing on your hand with his thumb sending little shivers along your arm.

" Alright then, you better go, I still have to clean up that whole mess in the kitchen" you suggest, not sure to be able to take one second of this tension between you two.

" Not even a goodnight kiss?" he pouts, squeezing your left hand ever so gently.

You can't help but chuckle at how cute he looks with his bottom lip sticking out like that, and you cover your lips with your right hand as you turn to the kitchen to check if Elvis might be on the watch.

Coast clear.

You look at your boyfriend again, his lips now perfectly shaping a swooning smile, and you lean in to kiss him briefly, chastely but tenderly.

The sudden contact has your heart racing so fast you know you can't take any more of it, and with a last quick farewell, he makes his way down the hall, leaving you alone with Elvis once again.

Gosh, what a night.

You are in seventh heaven. You've dreamed about a man like this your entire life, and even if you had lost hopes when Elvis seemed to be set on denying your hand to every single last one of them, you find Mike. Mike who made him laugh three times in the course of just one dinner.

You sigh ecstatically, making your way towards the kitchen, still thinking about the brief kiss you two exchanged.

You feel so silly blushing over a peck on the lips, but with the poor amount of experience you've got up until now, it figures.

You know it shouldn't be so relevant, but you really can't wait to be able to be more intimate with him. It's embarrassing how little you've been able to do, but you're simply not comfortable smooching your boyfriend around town, so you two may have properly kissed two or three times now.

You certainly couldn't hope to bring him home, with Elvis and all, and honestly, you weren't even certain you wanted to.

You know what happens when a couple is home alone, and even if Mike seems very respectful about you wanting to wait until marriage, you're not sure you can trust yourself alone with him.

Your mother raised you a Christian girl, a good girl. You believe in the sanctity of marriage and that's why you decided only one man would have you. You were okay with that, until it became unbearably difficult to find one that lasted longer than a few months.

Now, you don't wanna blame Elvis alone for that; some of them simply revealed themselves to be pretty crappy, but the rest, he couldn't deal with for no good reason.

You know you're supposed to make your own decisions, that you shouldn't care what he thinks of your boyfriends, but you love him too much.

You were only fifteen when your parents and your older brother died tragically in a car accident, leaving you in the caring hands of Mrs. Presley, your mama's dearest friend.

Elvis was three years older than you, around the age your brother was when it happened, and he was one of his best friends too. You two were raised side by side since then, and you've always absolutely adored him. Back when you two were little he was your hero, always defending you against anyone that dared to make fun of you.

Before you became part of the Presley family, you were ashamed to admit you had a huge crush on him. You had to force yourself to grow out of it, of course, since you two became practically family.

He turned into a fine man, the best you've ever known, and he probably set your standards way too high for anyone to ever meet them. It also didn't help that he was impossibly protective of you. No one was ever good enough, no one met his expectations.

Maybe you were guilty of giving way too much importance to his opinion on the matter, but for some reason, as soon as Elvis expressed the way he felt about them, they instantly became unattractive to you. You could only see those flaws he pointed out so easily.

You were growing frustrated with the search, and with yourself. You found it was quite lonely at night, having no one to warm you. You wanted to do more than hold hands and kiss once or twice. Hell, you wanted to be touched, to be loved.

So that's the reason you just couldn't stop smiling that night, even while entering the kitchen, finding your so-called "step-brother" having already cleaned the table and standing cluelessly in front of the sink.

Damn, he's always been handsome when he dressed in all black. It made his sparkly blue eyes shimmer even more intensely than they usually did. How on earth he was able to remain a bachelor this long was honestly beyond you.

" Leave it to me" you say while approaching him slowly, your yellow bell skirt brushing swiftly against your ankles.

He stands back, letting you handle the rest of the work.

You really don't mind doing the dishes, you've always found it very relaxing.

" Thanks for handling the rest" you add, shooting him a bright smile.

" 'S okay, it's good to do this stuff once in a while" he jokes, his big smile making your heart flutter for just a second.

He's always had this effect on you, at least since you can remember. You don't think nothing of it, it's just the way he is.

Effortlessly magnetic.

" So is he gone?" he bluntly asks, taking you kind of aback.

" Yeah" you try to hide the blushing you still feel pervading your cheeks as you think of that sweet moment beneath the arch of the door.

Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice.

He's unexpectedly quiet tho, and it's starting to unease you.

You're done with the chores pretty soon, and as you turn around from the washed dishes you find him there, leaning against the wooden table's surface, his feet crossed.

He's lost in thought. You know because his index finger and his thumb are almost nervously playing with his bottom lip, and at that, your brows furrow.

"Elvis, are you okay?" you approach him cautiously, so as not to startle him. Sometimes he got so deep lost you didn't know if his senses would take notice of your presence.

As predicted, no answer.

You chuckle slightly and take place in front of him, bending a little to meet his eyesight. And there he sees you, smiling playfully up at him, your hands clasped behind your back.

" Mh?" he simply goes, raising his chin, straightening up again, and you follow.

" Are you okay?" you tilt your head to the side, confused.

He looks at you so intensely now you're practically squirming in your place, feeling a mixture of concern and discomfort overcoming your previously acquired serenity.

His eyes are so captivating you're suddenly very aware of your proximity to him, but before you can take a step back, he speaks again.

" I don't like him"

Your heart drops in your stomach, your hands fall at your sides, a sigh of exasperation suddenly threatens to let go of your throat.

" What?" you manage to breathe out instead.

He stands up and looks at you, his blue eyes now clear of any residual doubt.

" Mike. I don't like him. You should probably stop seeing him" he says nonchalantly while making his way towards the fridge.

That, he had never said, ever. It was way too much, even for him.

" I beg your pardon?" you raise your voice, a sudden rage getting a hold of you.

You're so shocked you can do nothing much than stand there, wide-eyed, looking at him as he fetches himself a cola, uncorks it, and takes a good fiery sip before putting it down on the counter aside from him.

As he's done, he finally meets your eyes again, even more tranquil than before, or so it would seem.

" He's not good enough for you, honey" he explains, shrugging.

" Well, what a shock" you let out before you could think about a proper response.

But honestly, you couldn't care less. To hell with proper responses, he is being absolutely unnerving this evening.

" What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, brows furrowing, his damn bedroom eyes suddenly looking hurt.

You wish you could've held onto that anger a moment longer, but seeing him staring at you so cluelessly just breaks your heart.

He's not being mean. He genuinely believes you're better off without Mike, that you're too good for him. And as much as his previous words had threatened you to simply let the discussion go downhill, you knew you could reason with him.

So you sigh heavily, recollecting your thoughts to be able to put them into words correctly.

You look at him, your eyes begging him to see reason.

" It just means" you start again, slowly approaching him "that you're very protective of me, and as much as I appreciate it, I don't know if I can go on dating like this without it ever leading to something serious"

You're standing in front of him again, your hand on your heart, hoping he can understand your perspective.

" You mean you wanna marry him?" he asks, sounding surprised, looking vaguely disappointed.

You can't help but smile shyly at that, looking over your shoulder for a second, then back at him " Why not?"

" Well, he's a carpenter"

You roll your eyes amusingly, knowing if he had to resort to that excuse, you were sure he got your point.

" It's a family business, it's all gonna be his someday" you smile " he's got money saved up, he's a smart man, a family man"

Elvis shakes his head.

" That don't mean he's good enough for you"

" But he is" you reach out for him, taking his hand in yours, so close his face hovers right above yours "Oh Elvis, he takes such good care of me"

He looks at your hands, as if surprised you'd get so close to him, then his languid eyes dart back and forth between yours two, and he frowns again, his hand taking a hold of your left one.

This gained proximity has your heart fluttering silently underneath his gaze as you inhale the scent of his cologne.

You gifted him that very fragrance. The year before, while shopping for Christmas gifts, you came across this magnificent scent and instantly thought of him. It suited him perfectly: elegant, yet masculine.

" I take good care of you" he breaths hot upon the skin of your cheeks, squeezing your hand as to emphasize the weight of his words " I can buy you anything you like. Dresses, flowers, jewels" he chuckles as his other hand reaches carefully for your hip "you name it"

This time, it's awfully hard to ignore the wave of warmth his hand spreads within you, but you make no link to it with the sudden quickening of your breaths.

Damn, he's handsome.

Tanned skin, full lips, and the most beautiful pair of sparkly blue eyes you had ever seen. Sure, Mike's weren't bad, but they weren't Elvis's either.

You smile along with him, and he tightens his grip around you ever so slightly, letting your right-hand rest on his chest casually. But not so casually that you don't feel the consequences of it.

The warmth you had felt spreading in your lower abdomen has suddenly lowered, prickling faintly between your thighs.

At that, your smile fades, your cheeks redden furiously, and you gulp nervously.

You had managed to stop thinking about him like this, tried so hard to keep at a distance from him all these years, knowing very well the fine line between what you two are and what you're supposed to be for each other.

He's not your brother, but he's been one for you throughout the years.

And yet you can't stop thinking about the weight of his hands upon you right now, and you suddenly wish they could travel along your skin with less restraints.

Not even Mike had ever been able to awaken such thoughts in your head, not anyone.

You look at him again, trying to regain a shred of your lost focus.

" That's not the kind of care I'm referring to" you admit, lowering your gaze.

And that's all you should let yourself allude to, right at this moment, pressed against him like that, feeling things you should lock away. But your heart is racing faster than ever, and you can't really think straight right now.

" I am a woman now, Elvis. I have needs, I wanna feel loved" you can't seem to look at him while you say this, so when he speaks, you simply feel his breath grazing the skin of your ear.

" I love you"

As you feel a shiver running down your spine, you ask yourself if whatever you're feeling now is right.

Could you ever cross that line without feeling as if you've lost some type of family?

The only one you still had left.

You smile and gain all the strength buried within you to meet his eyes again.

" That's not what I meant" you sigh, looking down briefly before finding the courage to look him in the eyes " I wanna be kissed, passionately. I wanna be touched, and-"

You can't say more, because his eyes have darkened, and somehow it took your breath away, made your heart skip a bit, and your thighs squeeze together.

He squeezes your hand and presses you even closer to him, his warmth spreading within you, his breaths mixing with your own.

" I can do that for you" he purrs upon your skin, so huskily you feel your legs weaken.

But you must have heard wrong.

Whatever you're feeling, it's a fluke, and he cannot feel the same.

" What?" you wished you didn't sound so breathless.

" I can kiss you" he says, leaving no space for misinterpretation.

Your heart misses another beat.

He's playing with you, he's just teasing.

" Elvis, c'mon, be serious" you chuckle nervously.

And even if you shouldn't, some deep secret part of you hopes with all yourself he's not joking. 'Cause right now, looking at his lips, you can't help wondering how they might feel against yours. You can bet they're softer than Mike's, and you desperately wanna find out if you're right.

" I ain't playing with you honey, I'm dead serious" he smiles charmingly and tears his right hand away from yours, reaching for your cheek, looking so deeply into your eyes you can't help but surrender to the moment.

His thumb grazes your lips carefully, parting them as he lowers his gaze upon them, and you wish you had the will to tear yourself away from his arms, to stop the storm that his sweet words had gotten going on in your heart.

You feel like crying, and yet you don't even think about stopping him as he slowly comes down upon your waiting lips.

" Let me love you" he whispers upon them before you can feel his kiss, humid and gentle, softer than you had imagined, tearing apart every last shred of your resistance.

He kisses you carefully, almost experimentally, as if you could break away at any second.

You've got enough time to adjust to the feeling, and start kissing him back as he holds you close to him.

You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't indulge in this inappropriate behavior, and your hands most definitely shouldn't grip at his shirt so helplessly, silently encouraging him.

At your gesture, he tightens his grip on your hip, as to let you know that he wants you close as much as you do, even if he's being impossibly gentle in his kiss.

You're glad he's doing it because you can't imagine what your heart would do if he only-

His left hand suddenly brushes from your hip to behind your back, and you let a soft, involuntary moan escape your lips.

At that, it's like he awakens abruptly. His grip tightens almost violently around you, he slips his tongue inside your mouth, and you feel it clashing against your own, hot and overpowering.

Gosh, this can't be right.

And yet it feels so inexplicably good it hurts inside.

You fear you've longed for this for too long. That his protective ways, his undivided attentions had awakened an intrinsic need for him you couldn't deny yourself any longer.

At that exact moment, as you began to taste him inside your mouth, you decided you wouldn't resist him any longer. That anything he would have wanted to do to you in that kitchen, you would have let him.

You didn't realize how tense you had been until you melted in his arms, letting him deepen the kiss even further and enveloping his arm around you, backing you towards the kitchen table.

Anytime he parts away from you to catch his breath, you surprise yourself leaning against him, asking silently for more.

" See?" he mumbles in between kisses " I can kiss you passionately"

Anytime he moves an inch of skin against your own, you feel it burning as if it had caught fire.

You realize with shame that you're easy to moan against his lips, feeling an explicable need to let him know you're loving it.

Suddenly he reaches down for the hem of your bell skirt, and you feel his hands traveling underneath its thick fabric.

As a shiver runs down your spine and you let a whimper out of you, you're pervaded by a sudden fear. It doesn't tame the high nor the excitement that his kisses have unleashed within you, but it makes you somewhat more self-conscious.

He's got his hands up your skirt, grazing the skin of your bare legs and thighs, making you feel impossibly hot in your panties.

No one has ever done it. You've never let a man this far before.

" Wanna be touched, hon?" he pants upon your lips, and when you meet his eyes, you feel as exposed as if you were laying naked beneath him.

You can't help but nod in his direction, your nose brushing his, your heavy breaths mixing with his.

Your heart skips a beat, and as he starts kissing your neck, leaving your lips alone for a minute, you realize they're quivering both in excitement and distress.

" I can touch you" he breathes.

You should shove him away. That's what a good girl would do.

A good Christian girl would not let a man grab her ass as he's doing now, wouldn't let him lift her up upon the table, and wouldn't certainly open her legs to welcome him closer, moaning his name in his ear as he bites her neck.

You feel so vulnerable now. Sitting on your kitchen table, your legs open for him, your skirt up your stomach, your panties on full display, and your core just a shred of fabric away from him.

He brushes his hand along your thigh, down towards your centre.

Something inside you knows that if you really wanna put a stop to all of this, here's your chance. 'Cause you know he's going for that spot no one's ever touched, the one you saved for your husband-to-be.

But you're too lost in the fever of the moment, too dazed off to fully care.

However, as his hand lands splayed on your pussy, you whimper, your heart dropping in your stomach.

" Elvis" you mutter, sounding breathless as ever.

He doesn't answer tho, and you feel your heart pounding in your throat as he starts feeling you out through the material of your briefs.

They're soaked. You can feel it. And it's downright shameful that you're letting him know like this. Everything is happening is. It's no ladylike behavior.

How are you ever gonna absolve yourself from all of this?

You call his name once again to try and stop whatever he wants to do, but it comes out so distorted by lust that it sounds like a plead.

He detaches from your neck and meets your eyes, wanting to see what you'll look like as you're being touched for the very first time.

You feel his fingers tasting you through your panties, massaging your entrance, making you feel so flustered and hot you think you could pass out.

He's not even properly touching you and you already feel on fire.

All worries and doubts have escaped your mind, which is simply high on pleasure.

You suddenly feel desperately empty inside.

You've never felt this way, as if your whole life depends on feeling him slide inside of you, filling you up as you know he wants to.

Fuck it. He's too far away.

You wanna close that distance he'd put between you two to be able to look at what he was doing to you. You kiss him in a way you would have never dared to think you were capable of.

You're messy and needy, and you make so many sounds you don't recognize. Hell, you can barely recognize yourself right now. You're blinded by the need of him.

Your hand reaches for the spot where he's massaging you, and as if possessed by this sudden hunger for him, you move your panties out of the way, baring yourself completely to him, ready to feel his blissful touch upon your dripping core.

You've never wanted anything more. You had never thought intimacy would be so terribly frustrating.

And it's even worse when he suddenly stops.

He breaks the kiss and backs away slightly.

You open your eyes to look for his, finding them frozen upon you, wide with horror.

Your heart drops right in your stomach.

The stinging hint of anxiety starts pervading your skin with furious pricking.

" Fuck" he swears, and his head drops down. His right hand, the one that had just given you the best pleasure of your life, now reaches for his forehead, massaging his eyebrows towards the centre.

You're frozen on the spot. Wide-eyed, messy hair falling on your flushed cheeks, and your shoulder strap fallen down your arm, exposing your new baby pink bra.

As you try and focus on what is happening tears start to threaten to run down your face.

He stopped. He realized what you two were doing and stopped himself.

Not you, the good Christian girl whose man just walked out the door; but him, the one who never even liked Mike in the first place.

You're appalled by your behaviour.

You just acted as if you had no control over your instincts, whoring yourself to a man you considered as family.

He steps back and turns around almost fully from you, sighing.

And for an unknown forsaken reason, this breaks your heart into a million pieces.

All of a sudden you feel cold.

" I'm so sorry Y/N" he breathes, his hands still holding at the centre of his eyebrows, eyes closed.

You open your mouth to say something, but you can't. Every word you think of just dies in your throat.

He can't even look at you. He must be so disappointed.

You can't help the tears to start running down your cheeks.

You wanna cry, you wanna hug him out, tell him that you liked it, that you wanted him. That you're not really his sister and he didn't take advantage of you.

But you simply can't.

#elvis x reader #elvis smut #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut #austin butler smut #smut #imagine #austin butler #elvis presley #elvis presley imagine #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis

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barsformars · 4 months

Text

A Little More

g - fluff

p - jongho x gn!reader

w.c - 1.2k

t.w - none

a.n - i wrote this back in 2020??? i found it in my notion drafts so i edited it a lil bit and decided to post it (i dont think ive posted this? i couldnt find it on my page)

You tapped your feet impatiently to a made-up rhythm in your head, constantly glancing up at the clock hanging on the wall right behind your teacher. Urgh, class was supposed to end 16 minutes ago.

"Are we going to miss it?" Jongho turned to ask even though he had already guessed that judging from the way you were acting.

"If she doesn't stop talking right now," you leaned in slightly and replied softly, not wanting to get caught talking in class. That would just mean getting held back a little longer than you would like to. "Gosh, I'm not even absorbing an-“

You pause at the sudden quietness of the classroom, looking up to see Ms Kang with her arms folded across her chest. Uh-oh.

But before she even has a chance to call the both of you out, Jongho raises his hand, making up a lie on the spot as an excuse. "Sorry, they were explaining a question to me!" He nudges you with his elbow, which was your cue to apologise as well so that Ms Kang would just get over it.

"Alright, but next time don't discuss while I'm speaking. Got it?"

"Yep!" You rolled your eyes playfully at your table partner, he has a way of always getting out of trouble. It was just impossible for anyone to dislike him, and all the grown-ups just absolutely adore him.

Thankfully for the both of you (and everybody else), Ms Kang decided that there was no point in carrying on the lesson any further. She said that everyone looked 'too dead on the inside' which wasn't not true at all. It's just the case when school had started as early as 7.30 in the morning, only ending now at 5pm (or rather 5.20pm).

You stuffed all your belongings into your bag hurriedly before helping Jongho with his. Why does he always have a pile of loose notes and books under his table? Now, if it wasn't for how early the sunsets were nowadays now that it’s winter, you wouldn't be rushing him. You never liked pressuring anyone in any way.

"If we miss it today, we can just catch it tomorrow or whenever, you know." It wasn't that Jongho didn't like you rushing him, in fact, he doesn't mind it at all. He just rather not see you stressing over something so minor so unnecessarily.

Jongho had a point, but you really wanted to see the sunset today for whatever reason. Or actually there were many reasons. You know how there's always one week in the month where the sunsets just hit different from the other days? That's what you have observed at least, even if you didn't have any scientific information to back it up or prove that was really the case. Anyways, to put it short, the sunsets recently have been extra pretty and if you don't catch it today, you'll have to wait another month. Why? You have classes that extend way past 5 o'clock starting tomorrow.

And besides, you couldn’t wait any longer. As curious as you were hopeful, you really wanted to know who Jongho had caught feelings for. He promised he would tell you on a day the sunset is exceptionally beautiful.

"We still have a little more time left," you said, not bothering to explain your thoughts to Jongho. It's too much effort to try and properly formulate your thoughts into coherent sentences.

"Alright, let's go then." Without any warning, Jongho takes hold of your wrist, pulling you along with him as the both of you ran down the hallway, then the 8 flights of stairs and finally to the open field at the back of the campus.

After all the panting and gasping for air, you tilted your head upwards only to be greeted by light grey clouds filling up the sky. The golden rays of the sunset were barely peeking out from the back despite it extending out like roots greedy for nutrients in the soil.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and checked the time, hoping that maybe this was only the starting and not the end. "They say the sun sets in 6 minutes, so I guess we just wait?" You suggested, already seated on the floor before Jongho could process your words.

He remained standing, looking down at you with narrowed eyes. There was definitely something wrong with whatever you had just said but Jongho couldn't tell if he or you were the stupid one here. "I think that means the sky goes dark then, no? Like when the sun completely sets....." His voice trails off as you tugged at the sleeve of his uniform to get him to sit down as well.

"I don't know, but no harm in waiting just a little while more."

"I guess," Jongho said with a shrug of his shoulders.

But a lot of things can happen in just a little while. For example, Jongho might just muster up a little more courage in this peaceful silence to confess his feelings for you. And in this little while, an amazing friendship could very possibly end, unless you saw him as a little more than only a friend.

Jongho decides not to take the risk just yet; there's no harm in waiting just a little while more. Just a little more, when he can be a little more sure of your feelings as well.

"What's with this weird atmosphere?" You joked, an attempt to ignore how fast your heart was racing right now. Lucky for Jongho, you were too busy calming yourself down that you missed the way his body immediately tensed up at your question.

"Uhm, I'm guessing that's-" Jongho points up at the sky that was very far from spectacular-"all today's sunset has to offer." That wasn't the best way to break the awkward silence but oh well...

"Can we wait 5 more minutes?" You had almost lost all hope at this point but you never know what might happened in the next few minutes. Maybe Jongho would finally decide to let you in on his crush's identity as he had promised. Because if he doesn't, then you might. And if it so happens that your feelings for him aren't reciprocated, you were only going to burden him with your feelings. You don't want that, but right now you're barely holding yourself back. "Do you even remember what you promised me?"

"The thing about my crush?"

"Mhmm..."

"Yea, I remember. But today's sunset isn't it." Jongho sighed as he leaned back on his hands, staring up at the now dark sky. "Just wait a little while more."

"Well, but I don't want to miss the timing just like we did with the sunset today so I'll just say it." Your voice was shakier but in no way more timid than usual, perhaps it was the adrenaline that was rushing through your veins right now. Because right now, you couldn't care less about the weight and consequences of your words.

"Choi Jongho, I really like you a lot."

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez fic #ateez writing #ateez scenario #ateez drabbles #ateez blurbs #jongho #jongho fluff

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housetorian · 9 months

Text

Sit down, we need to talk about Hekimoğlu.

As some of you might know, I found the whole damn thing dubbed in spanish on some turkdrama streaming service, in glorious 1080p, so now I'm working on splicing it with the original audio and providing more coherent subtitles. This of course takes a considerable amount of time.

This source, perhaps in solidarity with my mental health, divides the show into 45-minute episodes. In opposition to the two-hour long 51 episode count your can find on IMDB, this distribution consists of a total of 157 episodes, which I plan on releasing weekly (I have a full time job and a life. wish I didn't tho). I think it'll be a fun way to build expectation, something we can all look up to, maybe it's cheesy, idc.

I'm still ultimating details but I have the first episode done and I would love for you guys to decide which day of the week we could to this in

(just in case, if you vote mondays it doesn't mean I'm going to upload it tomorrow, probably)

I'll probably make another post further along with a few more info and details, I'm considering setting up some sort of patreon or ko-fi, even making a discord server with live screenings, but I don't want to make too many promises <3

#hekimoglu

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ashturnedtomist · 9 months

Text

Keep it Covert: Ch.6

Brand

Keep it Covert Masterlist

Previous | Beginning | Next

Summary: In which, Freelancer tried to see the silver lining.

Based off this post

Read it on Ao3!

TW: Discrimination

Gavin wasn’t typically a worrier. He usually left that to Lasko.

But nothing was more worrying than watching his Deviant spiral like this.

He watched them pace back and forth in their living room. The others left hours ago to call loved ones and to see if they heard anything from D.A.M.N. They had nearly bitten their nails down to stubs, something they had long since given up after they met him.

“Deviant, you’re going to wear a hole into the carpet.”

They paused and turned to face him. “I just- I don’t- what is going on?”

Gavin only sighed and opened his arms. They were quick to bury themself in his embrace.

He rubbed their back. “I don’t know.” He murmured in their ear. “I don’t know.”

They were trembling. “Gavin, I’m scared.” He frowns. He can feel their knots, growing tighter and tighter. “It’ll be fine.” He whispered, not knowing if his words have any truth.

——

Freelancer squinted at their orange bracelet as they held it up to the sunlight, the gold one residing right under. They glanced at their friends’ wrists too. Most of them brandished a gold one as well, for elemental magic, but Gavin’s was pink. For demons. They let out a loud sigh.

“At least they’re pretty.”

Damien snorted. “Of course that’s what you’re focused on.”

Huxley frowned. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that Dames. They’re just trying to find a silver lining.”

The fire elemental crossed his arms indignantly. “I don’t see how practically branding us has a silver lining.”

Gavin heaves out a deep sigh. “For once, I’m going to have to agree with Damien on this one. These aren’t really…my type of bracelets.”

Lasko blinks. “Wh-what is your type of bracelet?”

“Don’t answer that.” Damien cuts in before Gavin can even open his mouth.

The incubus smirks. “Don’t be so boring, Damien.”

Huxley lets out a small chuckle while in the background, you can hear a small “I’m so confused.” from Lasko.

Freelancer smiles.

‘The more things change, the more they stay the same.’

——

“Did you hear? They’re letting that school stay open.”

Freelancer stood in line, waiting for coffee.

“What? The magic one?”

They blinked. Are they talking about D.A.M.N.?

“Yeah! Isn’t that crazy? To think, they’re still going to let those people learn how to use their powers.”

Oh.

“Yeah! Like, what if they turn against us or something. We weren’t all born with the ability to set things on fire and shock things, you know? They make me feel unsafe.”

Freelancer tugs the long sleeve of their sweater down, suddenly feeling like the bright orange metal on their wrist wasn’t so pretty anymore.

Maybe Damien was right.

Maybe it was a brand.

——

Freelancer woke to their phone ringing at 3 am. Gavin groaned from beside them.

“Ignore it.”

Against their boyfriend’s wishes, they reached for their phone, checking the caller ID.

“It’s Huxley,” they murmured in a raspy voice. “I have to answer.”

Gavin grumbled for a few moments before submitting to his partner’s will.

They hit answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Freelancer! Are you awake?”

Huxley’s enthusiastic voice trilled from the other line.

“I am now.” They said sleepily.

“Awesome. Anyway, me and Dames got a call from an old friend—turns out they’re a vampire now, crazy huh?”

“Wait, what-”

“Anyway! They told us about this suuuuper cool club that’s one thousand percent empowered friendly and I was wondering if you and Gavin wanted to check it out with us. Lasko already said yes.”

Freelancer blinked. They rubbed at their eyes blearily.

“I mean. Sure. I’d have to talk to Gavin when he’s more coherent but-”

“Awesome! See you tomorrow night?”

Freelancer blinked again.

“…sure.”

“Cool. Bye!”

The phone beeped, signalling the end of the call and Freelancer flopped back down on the bed.

That was weird.

Note: Y’all, I am so sorry this took so long, but I am literally falling into the fanfic writing stereotypes 😭 School started, and then we had a bomb threat, and then I was having transportation issues, and then my grandfather has been in and out of the hospital for WEEKS, so I’ve just been all over the place.

Anyway! Hope you enjoyed!

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted damn crew #redacted damien #redacted huxley #redacted gavin #redacted lasko #redacted freelancer #forget covert au #keep it covert #ash turns to mist

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justimajin · 7 months

Text

Future Plans

Dated Dec 3, 2023.

→ The Profit and Love Statement has wrapped up! Thank you so much for giving this series so much love and support, I was super nervous returning to writing after so long but it was a great experience ^.^ The 'imajining process' aka the behind the scenes about the story will be posted on this Tuesday.

→ Starting this week, drabble requests for the series will open! I have decided to try something new and want to see how it goes. More information about the requests will be posted tomorrow.

Now moving on to other things....

→ For December, I'll be easing my updates a bit because life :') However, following the drabbles a lengthy Hoseok oneshot will be posted on the following Tuesday (Dec 19th). Of course, it will have a lot of angst and maybe be a bit surprising for some since it's not an au I've seen often written about.

→ Following that, a Jimin story on the next Tuesday! Will also be angst but I might turn it into a series depending on if it's well-liked or not (will make more sense once I post it). If that's the case, the series will have seven parts and be posted up into January.

→ January will be the month of fluff after all this angst *cue thumbs up* I will follow up my fluff masterlist with a new series for a different member.

Because that was a lot, here's a coherent schedule for it all to make sense:

⇒ Tues, Dec 5 ✦ The Imajining Process behind The Profit & Love Statement

⇒ Dec 11-Dec 15 ✦ Posting Requested Drabbles for The Profit & Love Statement

⇒ Tues, Dec 19 ✦ Hoseok's angst oneshot

⇒ Tues, Dec 26 ✦ Jimin's angst oneshot (depending on reception, a continued series can be made and posted for January)

⇒ January ✦ If Jimin's story crashes and burns → Continues with new fluff series

Note: If this felt like a lot, don't worry too much about it. All these dates will be added to the 'recent updates' portion in my navigation bar as I continue to post. I just like giving a general scope of what's to come and when to check in for the future if you want to read more stories.

~ Yana (justimajin)

#update

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naivesilver · 5 months

Note

Hello I have been summoned

2. When I tell you I think about raph holding up 03 Mikeys like a hamburger to see the city lights, and I can hear the excited chirps and babbles and just see his face turn to such a soft look URGH I THINK ABOUT IT SO MUCH

5. I really want to read your big pinocchio AU fic that you've told me about, and I will one day for sure and I'll get to see the family you have constructed

7. Definitely that Mikey and Raph thing again, babe I think about it so much, but I just a close second is that belle and vector fix you wrote me a couple years ago for sure

9. Your montabello fic may never update again, it might in years time, it could tomorrow! Idc it's fun and self indulgent and I remember you telling me you where going to do it and how excited you where and it's a great read and it is special to me

10/13/14. All kind of related, listen I really don't like crossover fics much, and I especially don't like when people age up or down characters I never have! But you where so excited about shaking the latch I forced myself to give it a go and it is genuinely one of my favourite tmnt fics of all time and I love love love making art for it and talking to you about it and maybe stealing it a little but gosh it's great and the descriptions are lovely and the characterisations are fab and I just love it so so much I'll be so sad when you finish it you know like a chapter has closed on my life and I'm not even actively involved in it's creation

12. Your early vecpio fics, before I met you I read them so many times I was star stuck we where out in a discord together I have to be honest 💕 I've also read your recent gift fic for me a few times aswell but gosh yeah your so talented babes xxx

FUCK YOU I GOT SO OVERWHELMED BY THE SHEER JOY OF THIS ASK I DON'T THINK I CAN ANSWER IT COHERENTLY, YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO GO THIS HARD 😭💞 if I forget to say something, just know that what I tell you every day is the more concise and sensible version and that's that ajsfhjalfhjlahfjl thank you, you absolute menace ❤️

Fanfic Asks (For The Askers)

2. My favorite chapter in my favorite fic of yours

7. What made me the most emotional after reading

LISDEN.........I spent so much time thinking about that scene before writing it, I'm just glad it hit as well as it did for you too. The 03 turtles had a lot of issues with the outside world not accepting them, you know? So big, rough Raph holding this teeny tiny baby and knowing he can break the cycle and keep these children from going through those struggles...Being aware that Mini Mikey TRUSTS Raph to hold him up high and shield him from the world...It does ThingsTM to me, so it's only fair that you feel them, too 💝

5. A fic I haven't read yet from you, but I want to

I'd be honored to have you read that, but I'll be honest, I don't blame you for hesitating LMAO I know I went overboard baby, even if you never touch those 2763847393 fics in there I'll be happy :^)

9. A fic I'm excited for you updating/posting

I WILL FINISH THAT!!!!!! Sorry, I know that wasn't the point of the question, but I NEED to speak this into existence - I have so many ideas that need to come out onto the page, so thank you for having faith in it, it's really important to me 🤗

10. A character/ship I didn't enjoy/think about as much before you wrote about them

13. If I've ever shared/talked about your fic to someone else

14. A fic I didn't expect to like so much

Again, thank you 💞💞💞 not much to say aside from what I mentioned before in private but it's been so much fun to go on this turtle journey with you, and your patience with my VERY delayed updates is extraordinary.

12. A fic of yours that I've re-read

Finally, BOY what a blast from the past - I still don't know what compelled you to stick around after the delirium that was 2020, but I'm super glad you did. Those shitty Chaotix parenthood moments have given me a special friend so I can't be TOO mad at them 🥰🥰🥰

#seagull-laugh #ask meme #I'm sitting on my bed with my face in my hands here #full to burst with love #you fucking worm

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flushedmusings · 5 months

Text

————————— ୨•୧—————————

i realize now, in the years i’ve known you, i’ve never seen you cry.

not a tear past your eyes.

is it horrible to say i hope one day i will?

i just want to see the rest of your seasons. i love your sun, i praise it, but there’s more to life than that.

plants need water, just as people need to cry.

i worry about you. bottling it up, keeping the pressure inside.

one day when that explodes and there’s prices of me and you spread across the floor from impact, what happens?

will you let me help clean up?

i’ll be there, when you lock me out and leave me waiting. or when we’re in your car laughing and there’s nothing else in the world but us, and the lights reflecting across your windshield.

i’ll be there, when you leave, and it’s just me and your memory, lying in my bed, just a lump of wax with a bittersweet memory of our brief time together.

i know i’ll see you in class tomorrow, but i still feel this melancholy for a time in which your attention was on me. a time that’s never really existed.

everyone else you see, you seem to regard in this, blaring color, with this energy and excitement. and i’m just a black and white picture in the old photo album, in a box somewhere on the top shelf of your closet, pushed past your figurines and books.

and maybe i’m selfish, but when our friends are giggling and giddy about their lovers i can’t help but ache for that. a hollow feeling consumes me, this realization it will never be us. it will never be you saying “i love her more than anything”. and it will never be me on your family vacations.

i know, it’s not like that, i know you may not love anyone. but i can’t help the vomit that crawls up from my stomach. the little flame of jealous rage that eventually just fizzles out, leaving me a pile of smoke.

i know it’s not fair and i know it’s selfish, but what am i to do? there’s no spell that can just make me fall out of love with you, and time hasn’t been working, i’ve spent over a year yearning.

i hate to picture you ranting to a mutual friend of ours about how you know, and how uncomfortable it is for you. if i could stop the way i feel for you a would. i’m sorry.

i’m sorry for always reacting with some sort of quip. but i need to protect myself somehow.

i realize now how cruel i’ve been to you.

if i’ve ever gone too far, please know it’s the times when i find it especially hard to hide the red in my cheeks and steady the beat of my heart.

how can i lie with a straight face but not think about without a grin or tears?

how can i stand to fight these feelings?

when you protect them so gingerly, just holding my heart in the breast pocket of your flannel. keeping it there away from the truth.

i realize now now kind you are to me.

i realize now how often you’ve seen me cry.

and you, you calmed me down, that day you found out. something no one else has ever done. the tip of your thumb just fluttering across my hand, like a butterfly wing.

i’m sorry i can’t do that for you.

is it horrible to wish i could?

————————— ୨•୧—————————

ok, this made no coherent sense in terms of start to finish 😭😭 i may edit this later, or post a different version. idk!!! i just! cannot end poems!

anywhosies, thank you for tuning into this episode of girlfailure poetry™️

also if you know me irl and you know what i’m referring to in this poem, pls just, ignore that and enjoy ! 😁! let’s! move on ok? :3

-🍒

#love poem #original poem #poems on tumblr #poetry #cherry’s journal (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞!#love letters

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psylunari · 2 years

Text

Comments: thoughts, types, how-tos, and etiquette (part 2 of 4)

This is better read sequentially, but you can skip to any section. They are as numbered:

1) The basics

2) Thoughts on comment culture

3) Types of comments

4) Writing cohesive and coherent comments

5) Etiquette

6) Technical questions

7) Short-answer questions

8) Long-answer questions

Part 1: Sections 1 and 2.

Part 2: Sections 3 and 4 (you are here).

Part 3: Sections 5 and 6.

Part 4: Sections 7 and 8.

PDF version here, containing the whole thing. It has a table of contents and cute formatting.

♥ 3: Types of comments ♥

Comments are detailed below with a description and examples. I wrote all the examples. They might be based on comments I’ve seen, but aren’t real ones left by readers.

3.1 Emojis, keysmashes, second kudos, and not-so-verbal comments

Usually short. Might be hard to make heads or tails of them. If it’s all emojis/kaomojis, the comment is likely trying to express the reader’s emotions. The keysmash is internet “slang” for speechless or at a loss for words, but strong feelings about the thing, often positive. Second kudos are also emojis, but heart emojis, imitating the kudos/favorite button.

Example(s):

“😭😭😭😭😭😭” “ヽ(♡‿♡)ノ” “skjhgsdkfljgsdlkgfsjdh” “❤️” “!!!?????!!!!??????”

3.2 Short positive comments

One or two sentences expressing appreciation about the whole fic or some aspect of it.

Example(s):

“Loved it, thanks for sharing!” “This chapter is everything. Good to see this pairing more often in the fandom.”

3.3 Medium and long positive comments

Longer than the previous ones. Might delve into detailed opinions, quote the fic back to the author, and contain a deeper analysis of something.

Example(s):

“I’ve been reading this fic since day one. The writing is stellar and the characterization is on point. It’s good to see things getting finally resolved. Those two deserve peace and quiet in each other’s arms, after all.” “Ok, so it’s 3 am and I totally should be sleeping. My finals start tomorrow, and I was scribbling a few notes for an assignment, but I couldn’t resist this update. 5k words? How come?? The plot twist was SOMETHING ELSE. I don’t wanna spoil the other readers who might see this, so take my word for it and GO READ. When we thought we were done getting into her flashbacks, we get THAT. OH MY GOD. What will be of me until the next update? (probably a sleepless mess because broke college student juggling two jobs) LOL see you anytime, your writing is a blessing to this world.”

3.4 Constructive criticism (concrit)

Concrit points out flaws in whatever the reader can find them, and provides ways to improve the fic. Ideally, it’s a polite, considerate comment, but might not be.

Example(s):

“While I love the premise, worldbuilding, and first act, I think it’s a bit dragged out from chapter 5 onwards. Stories like yours could use faster pacing and less domesticity. If you trim the less relevant scenes and turn them into extras (maybe posted as one-shots in a series), it’ll flow a lot better. Also, be sure to use a spellchecker. English is hard. I know you’re not a native speaker, so that’s why I’m suggesting it. This fic will be a hit, you just have to polish it, to make it shine its brightest. HMU if you need help, and good luck!”

3.5 Pure criticism

Simply state an opinion, not ways to improve. Ideally, it’s polite, but might not be.

Example(s):

“It reads very amateurish, repeats many clichés from the fandom, and the characterization is off. I was in for the tags, ends up it’s not great.”

3.6 Hate/harassment, demanding updates, unwanted comments

Comments that try to bring the author down, attack them, demand faster updates, are impolite in general, or outright creepy. Might contain swear words and threats.

Example(s):

“lol this fic is trash, don’t waste your time” “I bet you live in your mom’s basement to this day and will never get a girlfriend” “Why don’t you post the next chapter already? It’s been a month. We’re all waiting” “Ugh, such disgusting content, what to expect from shippers of that pairing?” “Write even one more chapter, and I’ll doxx you” “Quick question, do you have an OnlyFans?”

3.7 Requests/prompts

Ask if the author could write a specific thing or suggests ideas for a fic.

Example(s):

“Could you write more one-shots of them? I need this pairing in my life.” “Put them all in a high fantasy AU, each one from a different race, competing for the throne. Three parts minimum. It’ll be awesome in your style and I want to see it.”

♥ 4: Writing cohesive and coherent comments ♥

AKA “I don’t know how to write X type of comment, help me”.

If you need further help, check the Long Live Feedback (LLF) Comment Builder.

4.1 Types I’m not going to cover and why

I’m not going to teach you how to write “pure criticism” and “hate/harassment” comments. Section 3 had a guide on identifying them, not encouragement to write it.

Pure criticism can be “an opinion”. Sure, “critic” is a job, like film critics, book critics, etc. There’s also such a thing as a nice opinion. However, I’d like to keep it positive. I don’t want to teach you how to tear a fic down without teaching you how to tell the author ways to do better. It might scare people away from fandom, especially newbies and/or insecure writers. Avoid criticizing total strangers (do it to friends who take it well, and it’s none of my business). You don’t know who’s behind the screen and the hardships they’re facing. Be kind.

I don’t need to go into detail about why teaching how to bully and harass others online is a bad idea. It’s unavoidable to come across hate comments on the internet. Anonymity makes people think they’re free to say as they please. Be the change the world needs to see.

If you do end up spreading hate online, I hope you face consequences, learn from your mistakes, quit doing it, and find something healthier to pass the time.

4.2 Not-so-verbal comments (emojis, keysmashes, second kudos…)

Emojis/kaomojis: send the ones that best represent your emotions.

Keysmash: type lots of incoherent letters without any words.

Second kudos: send heart emojis, maybe with “second kudos!” written as well.

4.3 Short positive comments

“Loved it!” or “great/amazing fic!” are fail-proof. You can also add “thanks for sharing”, “Love this [ship/plot/trope/other]”, “your style is great”, and other things you can think.

4.4 Medium and long positive comments

You can open comments with things like:

What you were doing when you found the fic (at school/work? procrastinating? looking for a rarepair? looking for a specific tag/theme?);

What time of the day it was;

Stating if you’re a newcomer to their works or not;

Other things you can think of.

There are a few things you can praise:

Writing style;

Characterization/development;

Plot;

Pacing;

Dialogue;

Being engaging;

Being original;

Other things you can think of.

You can proceed with:

Quoting your favorite lines of the fic;

Mentioning if you usually read that type of fic or not;

Saying if a scene made you cry/laugh;

Saying if a scene will stick with you for a while;

If it’s your favorite fic of that pairing/tag/theme;

If it’s your favorite fic of that fandom;

If it’s your favorite fic ever;

Other things you can think of.

4.5 Constructive criticism (concrit)

This one needs a little more structuring.

Create a document somewhere. Google Docs, Word, Notes app, etc.;

List strengths. Writing style? Characterization? Plot? Character development? Pacing? Dialogue? Spelling, punctuation, grammar? Being engaging? Being original? Others?;

List weaknesses. Same list as above;

Try to come up with ways the author could improve on the weaknesses. Grammar and the like? Spellcheckers. The plot structure is on the weaker side? Studying storytelling and structure. Robotic dialogue? Paying attention to real conversations, and so on;

Then, use a model like this if you want:

[These are all the things that I think are good, and don’t need to change.] [Next, these are the things I think need more work.] [These are ways they can do it better, and solutions for the problems I found.] [Here, you wish the best of luck to them, reassure them you’re doing it out of liking the fic, and state your intention to help them if they need it again.] [If they need further feedback, and you’re willing to do it, leave your contact info.]

4.6 Requests/prompts

If the author hasn’t stated publicly that they take requests/fill prompts, don’t send them uninvited. Always ask first. If they respond positively, proceed. If they don’t, it’s nothing personal. Some aren’t good with prompts or have no time/desire to write them.

Some authors provide sheets for requests or list things they will/won’t write. If there is a sheet, fill it out and send it. If they don't write something, don’t insist they do.

If it’s a request, be polite and non-demanding. Phrase it like “could you write this?” or “would you be open to writing that?”. Never “5k fic of this/that character doing this, ready by tomorrow night”, you’re not their boss. Preferably, thank them for their time and effort.

If it’s a prompt, provide enough information, not too much information. Don’t go overboard on details: the author won’t be able to elaborate with their personal touch. You’re asking them specifically to write it, so in theory, you want their take, not just your ideas.

If you want a specific thing to be out of the fic, state it, especially if there’s a chance the author could add it because it’d fit the context. For example, in a car accident prompt, someone dying isn’t out of place. Don’t want any deaths? Tell them.

An example of a weak prompt:

“Write a one-shot about Main Character.”

An example of a well-rounded prompt:

“Three years after canon ends, Main Character and Side Character #1 see Character Dead in Canon walking on the street on a Friday night. Character Dead in Canon didn’t seem to notice them, then entered the most suspicious nightclub. No smut/incest, please.”

An example of a too-detailed prompt:

“What if Main Character woke up, checked their phone, and there is a text message demanding they get to work at 7:35 am? Their former boss requested they deal with this, this, and this activity they used to do. However, they’ve been retired for years, since they were deemed unfit to work. Thing is, their boss has a miracle solution for the health issue they’re facing, but their boss isn’t going to tell them about the solution until they arrive at the office. I’d like it to be 30k words minimum, it should include spicy scenes here and there, but nothing explicit. Their car should be red. Their cat is a Maine Coon named Salt. They are dating me specifically. I am 165 cm tall, my weight is 60 kg…”

Part 1 // Part 3 // Part 4 are waiting for you.

#archive of our own #ao3 #fanfiction.net #ffn #wattpad #fanfiction #fanfiction tips #fandom etiquette #feedback #comments #comment culture #psyluna.txt

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