#but I suppose this is blurb loving behaviour

[reisakumaproducer]

*dreamy sigh* <- thinking about fictional man who is such a creature

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

could you do a drabble on bratty sub!jonathan crane? literally on my knees begging you to!!

ALL YOURS ───

jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “…I wanted it to leave a mark: that’s how I knew I loved you. Because I wanted to be burned, stamped…” — ’Marathon’, Louise Glück.

pairing. sub!jonathan crane x reader

summary. jonathan’s been a brat all night. looks like you’ve got some taming to do…

warnings. swearing, p in v, unprotected sex, sextoys/use of dildo (m), oral sex (m), edgeplay, blindfold kink, brat-taming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 3.3k

a/n. anon this idea is genius i love it!!! also this was js supposed to be a blurb & now it’s got 3.3k words😭i apologize LMAO

Entering your shared condo, you pushed Jonathan down to his knees, smack-dab on the wood in the middle of your living room. “What the fuck was that?” you questioned, yanking him by his silk tie to look up at you.

“What was what?” he retorted, pretending to be clueless despite the impish grin that snuck its way onto his plush lips. 

You slapped him, lacy black gloves scratching at his thin skin. “I’ve had enough of your bratty fucking behaviour tonight.”

“Then do something about it,” he challenged, piercing his baby blues into you through batted, thick lashes. 

“Oh,” you hummed, roughly undoing the silk tie from his neck, tugging his thin glasses off and wrapping the fabric around his eyeline, “I have every intention of doing so.”

Just an hour ago, you and Jonathan had been attending a GothamU charity gala. It was a nice night— save for the fact he spent all of it pushing your buttons, speaking over you, and brushing off your existence to the guests there. “My date?” he’d purr to them, “she’s just my teaching assistant.” 

You’d send him your tell-tale warning glares, and he’d stare blankly back at you, respond in his pettiest tone, and continue reducing you to his measly teaching assistant — which, publicly, was who you were to him, but behind closed doors, it was him, pleading on his knees to touch you, to at least catch a whiff of your addicting scent. The man would probably thank-you if you stepped on him and you adored every bit of it.

He was acting out. Some sort of naughty pseudo-revenge on you, making you seem so much smaller than everyone else; making people think he was the big bad wolf and you were his little lamb. 

Boy, would they be utterly fucking wrong. 

You pulled Jonathan up by the lapel, then shirked numerous clothing articles from his three-piece suit, leaving him in his dress pants. You did the same — not that he could tell — peeling off your lacy gala gloves and throwing them onto your wood credenza, sliding your panties off and decorating your couch with them carelessly. When your hands brushed past the fabric of his crotch, you heard his breath hitch, unable to tell what you were going to do to him with the makeshift blindfold on. 

Honestly, with the attitude he had that night? You intended to torture him ‘till there were heavy tears streaming down his face, the only words on his tongue being ones begging for release. 

You sunk to your knees, unzipping his thin pants and licking a stripe up his cock — still within his boxers, of course. You heard Jonathan choke, and, looking up at him, you could see him clench his jaw, lips bitten, hands trembling. 

But, y’know, the torture bit and all that. So you pressed your wet mouth to his clothed cock, hot tongue dragging across his length; everywhere he needed it most, but with him still shuddering pitifully beneath his boxers. The contact felt good, fuck, your tongue always made him feel good, but he needed more. 

You heard Jonathan moan; a whiny, drawn out barely-intelligible plea, because your mouth had soaked the fabric, making it stick to his needy cock. “Fuck, please,” he pleaded, hands fumbling around your shoulders before finding the crown of your head. You wrapped your mouth along his clothed erection, humming in delight at his begging, until: “just fucking suck me off already, please.”

Your mouth stopped their ministrations at once, and all that was left was your hot breath on his twitching dick. “Come again?” you drawled, affronted beyond belief at his audacity.

Jonathan didn’t respond; he knew he’d taken it too far. You got back up, and squeezed his face with your hand. “I didn’t think so,” you growled at him. “Speak like that again and so help me god, I will fuck you ‘till you’re so dumb you’ll be thrown into Arkham.”

He whimpered at the threat — how humiliating it would be to be trapped in the place he was chief of — while squirming under your touch; but you still felt his hard-on roar to life even needier than before, aching near your inner thigh. 

“Fuckin’ brat,” you whispered, thumb brushing over his pink bottom lip. His mouth opened immediately, and your finger dipped onto his tongue, trailing deeper until he gagged. 

You grinned at his appearance: long gone was the respectable, genius Dr. Crane- now, he was a flushed mess, lips parted as he panted hot, needy breaths, spit leaking down his chin onto his bare chest. Fuck, did he ever look good so undone for you. 

Even his tie had slipped slightly off his eyes, and you could see him blink blearily, sweet lashes kissing his high cheekbones and leaving small, teary drops. You tugged the fabric back in place, then dipped your hand into his wet boxers, gripping his thick length tightly and pulling out.

“Why should I make you feel good? Why waste my effort, when you’ll just forget everything, like the stupid little whore you are, huh?” 

He keened, holding back his hips from bucking into your hand. “I’m sorry,” he panted raggedly, disrespectful demeanor slipping away in favor of being your little pet, “I’m sorry for tonight—“

“It’s too late to say sorry.” you scolded darkly, other hand coming up to his hair to tug it back and reveal his sensitive adam’s apple. You licked at the spot, then traveled your tongue to just under his jaw, suckling at his pulse. 

You drew out a pathetic squeak from him at the action, and you chuckled against his warm skin. “I’ll be good for you,” he promised quickly, “I - I’ll be good for the rest of my life. So… so please,”

“‘Please’ what?” 

“Please use me,” he replied shamefully, tone warbling halfway at the vulgarity of the request. 

You smirked, then began slowly pumping his long length. Your hand was so tight against him it was like a suction, and he let out several choked moans at the slow friction. Your other hand left his hair, making his head fall limply on his chest, and you fondled his balls, teasing him at first with mere grazes of your fingertips on the flesh, before squeezing them roughly.

“You gonna come?” you asked in a hum when his knees started buckling. “You gonna come just like that, just with my hand?”

“Yes, m’gonna come - gonna come,” he groaned, bucking quickly into your hand as you stroked him faster. 

“So pathetic,” you sneered suddenly, dropping his needy cock and watching it bounce on his thigh before springing up against his abdomen again, “didn’t ask for permission. Looks like you’re forgetting your fucking manners.”

At your harsh words and denial of release, Jonathan’s bottom lip trembled, small sniffling sounds coming from him, and you rolled your eyes— the needy bastard was fucking crying. 

“M’sorry,” he cried out weakly, “‘m’sorry… just felt so good…”

You watched his tears drip from under the tie down his neck, his shoulders shaking, and you sighed, sinking down to your knees. He was crying, because he fucking knew what it did to you; that his helpless whines made all the right pulses pang in both your chest and your core; that you would give in.

So, you took him in your mouth, hand stroking the bottom of his shaft while your tongue teased and touched the rest; sticky mouth wrapped moistly around him. Unbeknownst to Jonathan, however, is that while you adored his cries, the desire to have him begging was stronger. Thus, your tongue was barely doing anything, just tentatively licking him, too short for him to lose himself, too fast for him not to get overstimulated. 

You felt him try to thrust into your mouth, but your free hand gripped his bare thigh tightly. “Don’t move a muscle,” you grunted, and continued by angrily smacking the back of his thigh with your open palm. 

Jonathan whimpered helplessly, planting himself firmly in place. With that, you’d set the stage: you left his cock for a moment, quickly sauntering to your bedroom, and pulling something out from a velvet drawstring pouch you kept in your nightstand…

You heard Jonathan cry out for you, devastated like he thought you were gonna leave him teased and needy like this all night — which, you couldn’t blame him, because you had done that before — but no, you weren’t, because you wanted to ruin Jonathan tonight; put him back in his place; remind him who exactly fucking owns him. 

When you returned to the living room, he was still standing in the exact same place, but his hands were gripping his thighs with deadly strength, more lustful tears streaming down his face. 

“So obedient for me,” you murmured in amusement, getting back on your knees and slipping his weeping cock into your mouth. He gasped, pathetic delight filling his groans at your reappearance as you suckled softly on him. 

Jonathan was halfway through a “thank you” before you brought your thick dildo to the seam of his ass. The sudden touch made him flinch, hips bucking up and shoving his cock harshly into your throat. 

You choked momentarily, and he panicked: “Oh god, m’sorry, m’so sorry,” he sobbed, mind going fuzzy and blank with your skillful tongue pleasuring him, the tip of your dildo teasing his back entrance.

You laughed around his length, not saying anything and merely sucking him off faster, now pressing the wet dildo tip into his puckered hole. The thought of it entering him made your cunt pulse — you’d turned it on back in the bedroom, intent on getting it wet with your spit so you didn’t torture Jonathan too much, but instead couldn’t resist filling yourself. You’d bounced on the fat thing for a few moments, till it was completely soaked in your wetness, your back arching, cunt itching for release. 

Jonathan cried out from the sharp stretch in his hole, and you soothed him with a low hush, slowing your onslaught of pleasure on his cock so he could breathe. Once you heard a strained moan leave his lips, one that was much more desperate, much more raspy, you continued in sucking him off, wedging the rest of the dildo’s length into his tight hole. 

“If you come before I let you,” you warned when you felt Jonathan’s thighs clench, his breath catching in his throat and his moans going pitchy, “I won’t fuck you for a month.”

“A month?!” Jonathan questioned with a yelp, which dissolved into a moan when his hole clenched around the dildo’s silicone. “Fuck, hnngh, please, I can’t -- I needa come, but… a month?”

“A month. So be a good little whore, and don’t let go ‘till I tell you to.”

Jonathan whined, but his signs of release faded away, and you rubbed his hip approvingly. You pulled away for a final time, and dragged him by the arm to your couch. 

He almost tripped, legs trembling at the pleasure the dildo was sending up his body as it filled him, and it got worse from there: you slipped off his blindfold, and pushed him to sit on the cushy furniture. The dildo pushed that much deeper into his hole, brushing against his prostate and making him choke, before you climbed onto his lap and lined up his leaking head to your entrance. 

Jonathan couldn’t help the amalgamation of an overstimulated cry and loud moan that tore out of him: how could he, with the dildo’s fat cockhead flush against his prostate, your plush folds teasing his thoroughly-edged cock, and the withstanding rule not to come. 

You gazed softly into his watery blue eyes, which were red-rimmed and lined with pitiful tears. They were silently begging you to let him release, every fiber of his being wanting nothing more but to feel that familiar current run through him at last. 

His cheeks were flushed pink, lips bitten between the teeth; expression utterly wrecked, utterly desperate, utterly yours. He knew, just as well as you did, how much he fucking belonged to you: he would let you put a goddamn leash and collar around his neck if you just asked. 

Then, you pushed yourself up by the knees and hovered over his cock. You watched his face the whole time you sank down: his face screwed together when his tip peeked into your hole, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull when your took him halfway, his mouth opened and his spit-slicked tongue hung out of it when you bottomed out. 

“You’re so - tight,” he observed gingerly with a whimper. His gaze was glassy, heated mewls leaving his lips; the only thing on Jonathan’s mind was pleasure, every coherent or intelligent thought leaving him in favor of the primal need to orgasm.

You bit down your moan, your hands resting on both of Jonathan’s bare shoulders, kneading them softly. “Tight for you, baby. All tight for your good fucking cock.” you cursed huskily, and you felt Jonathan’s cock swell at your praise. 

His hands snaked up to your waist, hesitantly holding you, but when you didn’t protest nor scold him and instead lifted yourself up again to bounce down on his erect cock, Jonathan touched you feverishly, like he would never get enough of your skin on his. 

“Can - can I…” Jonathan started quietly, getting cut off by his own effeminate whine when you grinded down on him. “Can I -- ah -- touch your tits? Please?”

You smiled, finally content with his politeness (as well as the sweet sounds of his moans), “Go ahead, baby. Play with m’fucking tits.”

Jonathan smiled too, but it was so fucking happy he looked pathetic, eyes dilated like a kid on christmas just because you conceded one of his requests. His hands pulled your dress off your head, and you shuddered in the cold - as well as how easy it was for your legs to widen with the fabric gone, your body splitting on instinct to greedily pull in more of his length. 

He then groped your perky chest, tweaking your nipples every so often, practically salivating over the fat flesh of your breasts. He was so encapsulated with touching every inch of you that constant groans were leaving your mouth, sliding his cock in and out of your leaking hole faster. 

“So soft,” he groaned, amazement dripping off his every word. “Feels s’good, so sweet.”

“Yeah,” you panted, rolling your hips into his own and making his back arch, “you love m’tits so much, huh?”

“Love you,” he whimpered, obviously too fucked out to comprehend the connotations of his words, but you couldn’t resist pressing an adoring kiss to his lips anyways. 

Then you could clearly feel the pleasure in your insides building now, like rope twisting around your lower body, especially with the way Jonathan’s curved cock deliciously rubbed the entrance of your cervix with each bob. 

Then, you pried one of Jonathan’s needy hands away from your tender breasts, making him whine momentarily before he saw where you were leading his long fingers: right to your puffy clit. 

“Touch me, my sweet pet, and I’ll make you come.” You promised, pressing him roughly against you. 

Jonathan nodded eagerly, and his skillful fingers began artfully playing with your clit, pinching the flesh lightly and furiously rubbing your wetness over the button. Your sounds of pleasure were affecting him, too: you felt his cock throb when his fingers touched you just right and made a breathless mewl leave you. You pressed your forehead against Jonathan’s own, reveling in how focused he was on making you feel good, and you let go. 

Your orgasm flowed over you, making your body twitch and jerk into Jonathan’s relentless touch, the pleasure taking you over completely and making you scream his name. “Oh, fuck, Jon, so good, good boy, you’re my good fucking boy…”

“M’all yours,” he agreed, obviously getting extremely close to the edge as your throbbing cunt clenched around his length. “Yours.”

You breathed haggardly as your high slipped away, your eyes blinking slowly and watching Jonathan helplessly try to get himself off without overstimulating and upsetting you. He wasn’t made to take control, you knew that, and his clueless, pitfiful attempts to do so while still trying to keep your favor made you frown, and slide up off him.

“Lay face down, knees tucked in, baby,” you grunted through a wince, his too-thick cockhead reminding you of the stinging stretch that had long faded away and been replaced with pleasure. 

Jonathan didn’t waste a second obeying your commands, his weeping cock resting on his inner thigh. Your fingers brushed past the base of the dildo still within him, its long length disappearing into his puffy, bloated hole, making him buck forward on his knees. 

“Can you come on this fake cock, pet? You’re a good little slut, aren’t you?” Your said from above him, hand splaying on his left ass cheek and slightly tugging at the flesh to see how full he really was. Spoiler alert: you couldn’t take that whole length in your cunt, much less your tight ass. 

“I’ll come if you tell me to,” Jonathan mewled back, wriggling his ass flirtatiously beneath your hands in some desperate attempt to get you to fuck him and make him release at last. 

You got down on your knees, eyeline direct to his hole, and you snickered mockingly at his eagerness. After pressing a harsh bite on his ass and branding him as yours, you began to fuck him with the fake cock, thrusting it’s length in and out of his ever-tightening asshole and spitting on it to moisten his walls. 

Jonatgan let out several quavering moans, feeling every inch of the dildo within him because of the position, and he drooled a handful of spit onto the couch at the pure pleasure being inflicted on him. It was slightly embarrassing to come because of this silicone object rather than your soaking wet cunt, but as you pounded the dildo into his hole and made it roughly kiss his prostate, Jonathan decided he didn’t care. 

“Come for me,” you demanded gruffly, plowing the dildo in and out of Jonathan’s aching ass, “come undone, baby, all for me.”

At your words, Jonathan -- having been thoroughly tamed at this point -- came, spurting his rich seed onto the couch and his chest, a few drops making their way to his face. He felt you continue to press the length of the dildo in his hole as he rode out his high, and it made for the sickest, bordering-on-painful stimulation. 

It still felt heavenly, though: being allowed to come was the highest privilege for him, because it meant you thought he was worthy. Also, because it satisfied the aching monster within him, the one that wanted so desperately to be roughly fucked and toyed with. 

At last, you slid the dildo out of his hole, admiring how stretched out and wide it made him, before getting up from your place on the floor and sliding onto the couch. You helped Jonathan sit upright and lay his back on the cushy object, your warm hand clasping his cheek gently. 

“All obedient for me now, are you?” you whispered lowly, tickling the bottom of his chin to meet your gaze. 

Jonathan licked his plump lips, “You own me… mistress.” The title sounded right at home on his lips— on both your lips, and you smirked. 

“I like the sound of that,” you purred, a renewed vigor entering your body. Your arms clasped around Jonathan’s bicep, and you pulled him forward while laying down, making him press his tired weight on top of you. “M’gonna use you however I fuckin’ want,” you said in his flushed ear, before lifting your legs up to wrap around your waist.

His eyes widened, “What are you—“

“Shh,” you cut him off softly, hand coming down to squeeze one of his balls tightly, “just listen to Mistress. This night’s far from over, pet.”

Jonathan groaned, eyes squeezIng shut and feeling his cock spring up once more. Fuck, he thought, and damn this horny cock of his; damn your insatiable appetite; damn how fucking good it felt to be yours. 

All yours. 

[shmaptainwrites]

Hiiiiii againnn its meee coming back to annoy you again :D

I saw you extended your accepting date until the 9th, and I know I literally just requested something, but would you be down to write a blurb for an angry love confession in the pouring rain? I'm a sucker for that cliché trope, and I love your writing so so much <3

Once again a female reader if you don't mind 😭

bestie you've freaking GOT IT and sometimes cliché tropes are the best, really who are we to judge btw i also put carl davis' pride and prejudice suite iii on repeat while writing this for ~vibes~

Pairing: Fitzwilliam Darcy x fem!Reader

Warnings: scandalous behaviour for the 1800s i guess, minor height description (shorter than Colin Firth and Matthew MacFayden, they're both like 6'2)

The Truth

Normally when the rain was pouring down from above you'd make it a point to look for cover, but what was the point in that anymore. You let the cold water from the sky envelope you, absorb into your skin, soak your clothes. If you just focused on the rain you wouldn't have to focus on anything else.

If it were just you, alone in the world perhaps that would be the case, and although it felt like it sometimes, that didn't mean you'd get peace when you wanted it.

His voice was muffled at first, but you supposed that was your own fault, too focused on other things to bring your mind to hear what he was saying, but as he approached closer you could hear him clearer.

"What are you doing?! It's pouring outside!"

You could hear the urgency in his tone, but couldn't bring yourself to feel it.

"I'm well aware of that," you called back.

"Then why in God's name are you out here?"

He was behind you now, you could tell, his voice so close you could just about feel his warm breath cut past the cold air surrounding you.

You turned around and shook your head with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

"I don't know," you admitted.

"Well come inside then," he insisted, offering an arm to you. "We'll both get sick if we stay out here any longer."

"I don't care."

"You don't care?" he frowned. "What is going on? You don't seem like yourself."

"Lying can do that to a person," you said simply and turned away.

"Lying?" you could almost hear the exasperation in his voice. "Please, I don't understand."

"Of course you don't, why would you? You don't feel the same," you mumbled to yourself.

"I really must insist you explain what is going on," he said quite firmly.

"I can't!" you shook your head and wrapped an arm around your waist, the other covering your mouth. "Please, Mr. Darcy, just...just leave me."

There was silence for a moment and you thought maybe he head left, the downpour masking the sound of his footsteps, but then a voice spoke up.

"No. I will not leave you."

"What is it you want from me?" you turned back to him again and asked angirly.

"I want the truth."

"The truth is that I love you!" you looked down at your feet, knowing you wouldn't be able to meet his gaze. "I love you and I don't think you feel the slightest ounce of that towards me."

"And what would give you that impression?" you heard the squish of wet grass and mud beneath his feet as he came closer to you. "Because if I, in any way, have made you feel like that, it must be rectified."

You finally looked up at him, tears mixed with raindrops runnig down your face.

"Fitzwilliam, please, I-I can't bear to have my heart broken," you whispered. "If this is just kindness I-I-"

You weren't given a chance to finish your sentence as he lifted your face to look up at him, his hands were warm against your cold skin and out of instinct your eyes fluttered shut, just as he pressed his lips on yours.

You gripped tightly onto his forearms, bringing him as close as you could, wishing nothing more in the world than for that moment to last forever.

When you pulled apart, his forehead still resting on your own, you let out a small breathy chuckle, letting one of your hands come up and hold his cheek.

"You never said anything," you whispered, "and with all this-this talk of suitresses...I-I thought I was being foolish."

"I must be the fool for not saying anything earlier," he lifted his head only to kiss your forehead, and bring you in for a proper embrace. It felt as if you were meant to be joined and knit together as one and it reminded you that in the end, it was always important to tell the truth.

[aprilthearcher]

burning red [roman roy x reader]

word count: 1.8k

[somewhat angst]

warnings: curse words, ooc roman ?, english is not my first language, not edited, rushed ending.

a/n: somewhat inspired by “red” and “false god” by taylor, idk i was just listening to these two songs on loop. i’m also supposed to be studying, but instead i wrote this, so enjoy! love me some greg sprinkles, couldn’t not include him. alsooo, this could read as being part of the same story as my previous roman blurb, but you won't have any problems if you haven't read it.

Loving Roman was complicated yet insanely easy, too tiresome at times and then incredibly invigorating. He had that effect on people, or maybe just her. Everyone else was probably too complicated for her to like. Not funny enough, not witty or smart enough, not loud enough. No one was Roman enough, not even across the whole damn world. 

Getting him off her mind had been more difficult than she’d expected, probably because (Y/N) only realised her feelings for him after she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had taken over her whole body without knowing. It was Roman’s lips she imagined when kissing blonde, ginger, brunette guys at pubs; it were Roman’s eyes she thought of when her friends would ask her about her favourite colour; it was Roman’s face she conjured up in her head when they’d ask about her type of man. 

At first, she believed it to be some sort of sick joke the Universe was trying to play on her: discovering she had feelings for her long-time friend — one she’d known since they were in diapers, who would grab her by her ponytail whenever she was paying attention to his siblings instead of him (just him) —, barely two or three weeks in her first year of university, a university that was on a whole other continent, separated by an entire ocean. Still, (Y/N) knew she could fly back home in a couple of hours — “I’ll arrange a jet for you if you wanna come down”, her dad would always say over the phone —, but the idea of seeing him again with this new information in her head and heart (that couldn’t help but jump at the mention of him) terrified her.

Her mind would make her remember him and his antics in the worst possible times: while dancing with some random guy at a club, his hands on her hips, the cheap cologne contrasting the rich scented one Roman couldn’t get enough of. On a first date, set up by her friends who believed she had to let go of this “prude” behaviour and just let someone take her to their bed. When joking with the guys that approached her and her friends at the bar, knowing exactly what Roman would think of them, the cruel comments he’d throw, the silly faces. The soft eyes when they were both too drunk to even speak a coherent sentence, although most times nothing was coherent with Roman. She had tried looking for those same bright eyes; once more, she ended up disappointed. None of them were Roman. None of them ever will be, no matter how much (Y/N) tried to shape them into a replica of him. All of Roman was unique. 

Hence, the dreadful turmoil inside her stomach once Shiv, with some tint of malice in her eyes directed at Roman, introduced her to Tabitha. “Roman’s companion”, she’d said. The blonde, curly haired woman greeted (Y/N) with an eager smile on her face. She said her name at the same time both of them shook hands. A voice inside her head told her this was all wrong. How long? Where did it happen? Why? Why? Why now that she was back?

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me your name,” Tabitha mentioned playfully, a short roll of her eyes a second later. “You’re all Roman’s been talking about lately”.

“Only lately?” Shiv laughed, taking a sip from her glass she focused her eyes on Roman , then (Y/N). “Roman’s always talking about (Y/N). I mean, he was practically her lap dog when they were children.”

“Oh, fuck off Siobhan,” Roman bark back.

“Well, he only mentioned you as of now.” The knot in her stomach tightened. The worst part was she could see Tabitha hadn’t said it out of spite, nor jealousy, but as a fleeting comment to add something more to the conversation.

He hadn’t mentioned her to Tabitha? Not even once? She had tried everything to block him out of her head, to keep him out of her dreams and fantasies; to catch herself every time she was going to bring up him in a conversation again, and he didn’t say her name until he found out (Y/N) was coming back to New York? What kind of sick fuck was he? What kind of sick fuck was she, devoting probably her whole life to Roman fucking Roy?

“Oh,” (Y/N) managed to croak out before her father appeared beside her and whispered in her ear that she should spend some time chatting with the other guests.

                                                       * * *

Cousin Greg was great company, quite weird before you took in the awkwardness that seemed to surround him and make him stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of all these old, rich people, but great nonetheless. He had asked her about her years in London, what she studied and what she did for fun, her friends and hobbies. (Y/N) found herself enjoying the night, sitting on a couch by his side, meanwhile both of their cheeks were getting rosier and rosier with every new cup of alcohol brought to them. Greg was in the middle of telling her about how he had screwed up the first day at his job on one of the parks owned by Waystar, cracking up from time to time from how she tried to hide her laugh in order to keep the attention away from them, when two hands settled on his shoulders, hard and making a noise that was apparent that the gesture was meant to at least hurt him a little. Roman was behind him with a clench jaw and big, maniac eyes. 

“Greeeg, I think Tom was looking for you, man”.

“Oh, really?” Greg turned his upper body in Roman’s direction, which from the side looked somewhat weird because of his tall, lanky form. “Because, because I just saw him and he didn’t say anything”.

“Yes, oh really, man. And he said if you didn’t go talk to him right now, he would fire your sorry ass”.

Greg was on his feet quicker than she'd expected after seeing him drown glass after glass with her. He towered over her for a moment, saying a quick “see you later” before going in search of Tom. 

“You’re mean, Roman”.

“Yeah, well, tell me something I don’t fucking know”. 

They fell silent for a second. Around them, people were still in mindless conversation, setting down empty cups on the waiter’s tray while picking up new ones from another one. Alcohol seemed to be the only way to survive a family gathering at the Roy’s, even a harmless one. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Roman asked. She turned her head to the right to face him, he was already looking at her. His eyes no longer had the maniac fog blurring them, there was now a tranquil pool of honey.

                                                    ***

“My dad is probably gonna be mad if he finds out I ditched the party”.

“Please, (Y/N), since when did you become such a goody two shoes?” Roman leaned against the railing of the terrace, following her with his eyes while she approached him and finally set her elbows on top of the banister. From this position, he looked taller. “Don’t tell me you were like this in London. I mean, with no one to hover over you, you sure had a looot to do, didn’t you?”

“I went to London to study, remember? Not to go out and get drunk every night.”

“Well, I’m sure if you had been with me, you could’ve done both.”

“Yeah, probably, but you weren’t with me.”

“Whose fault is that, huh?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyebrows raised.

“Are you saying it was my fault? We haven’t seen each other for how long and it was all my fault?”

“Why are you acting like it isn’t? It literally is, (Y/N), you left m.. you left and, and you never came back.” He had walked a few steps away from her. 

“It’s not like you couldn’t have visited, Roman. Just ask daddy for one of his jets, it’s literally that easy.”

“Yes, but - but you left, (Y/N). You left, and it’s not like you chose some university a state away, you chose one a whole continent away! That’s got to mean something!”

“As if Roman fucking Roy couldn’t get one goddamn plane and fly over to London!” She had abandoned her previous position, now fully facing Roman, who was still a couple of feet away, getting closer to the door. He was trying to run, just like it he always did whenever they fought.

“I didn’t - I didn’t want you to get annoyed by me! To realise what a true moron I was. Then you barely talked to me after you arrived at your fancy university and - and started your very difficult subjects.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes in confusion for a moment. Though it was easier to throw everything at him, (Y/N) knew that she was also responsible for their lack of communication over these last years. 

Only the bustling, almost never-ending nightlife of New York could be heard. Her chest hurted, her eyes would fill with tears at any point now. She was tired and drunk, and just fucking missed Roman too much for them to be fighting the first night she was back in the city.

“Now you are not saying anything?” Roman broke the silence. He was closer to the door, she noticed. “You know what? Fuck you, (Y/N). Fuck you for making feel all this – all this fucking, fucking shit!”

“What fucking shit?” She asked quietly, desperate for an answer, the answer.

“I - I don’t know what fucking shit, just shit, okay?”

“Say it.”

Roman didn’t respond, instead he turned her back on her, walking towards the door. Before he could reach the handle, she screamed at him.

“Fucking say it, Roman.”

“I’ve just told you, I don’t know. It’s just shit, okay? All of it,” he screamed back, opening up his arms, exaggerating his point. “I - I run out of breath and then my chest is all funny, and and I hate seeing you laughing with fucking Greg of all people. It’s shit, fucking shit!”

Drawing closer to him, she tested his limits. He was breathing hard from all the screaming and moving around the terrace to put distance between them, but he didn’t stop when (Y/N) got so close their bodies were almost touching. It was her with whom physical closeness wasn’t a problem, he always told himself it was because of how close they were pretty much their whole lives.

They only looked at each other for a few moments, the waves of conflict had calmed down fast and efficiently enough that for anyone else it would seem like nothing had happened between them. 

Roman wished — deep, deep down — that they could stay like this forever, without having to go back and confront his family, especially his father; that they could make this terrace, above Logan’s place ironically enough, a little haven, only for them; that they would never be found.

[stylesharrys]

Patreon Exclusive Masterlist

Hey besties, this is a little masterlist for all my pieces available on Patreon :) I also include a link to snippets for all the fics so you can get a feel for them :)

Last updated MAY 21st 2024 | 🍒 indicates smut

Join my Patreon for exclusive content // Normal Masterlist

(( all fics have been sorted from oldest to newest and are marked if they’re an AU / trope — please always remember to read through the oneshot warnings before continuing )) 

//

Series + Mini-Series

The Box [Boxerry] (Completed)

Part One – When Y/N's brother dies, Harry breaks the news that she now owns an illegal underground fight club. (4.2k) snip.

Part Two – Harry shows Y/N theP ropes and she stays for fight night. (4.3k) snip.

Part Three – When Mary has a fall, Harry and Y/N plan to spend the night at the care home with her, though she has other ideas. (4.2k) snip.

Part Four — Harry, Y/N and the training lot celebrate Sam's heavenly birthday at the pub. But some decide to take the celebrations a step further. 🍒 (6.6k) snip.

Part Five — Y/N and Harry find themselves on the run from the same people that killed Sam, and there’s only one bed. (5.3k) 🍒 snip.

Part Six — The Scavello brothers make another return and Harry isn’t ready to say goodbye to Y/N. (9.5k) snip.

//

Oneshots

Family Night — You and Harry take Wyatt to the movies and you have some news to share. (2.3k) [Dadrry]

Satellite — Harry's completely smitten, and Y/N thinks she likes him too. (3.3k) snip.

Little Bunny 🍒 — Harry wants Y/N to dress up as a sexy bunny for easter. (4.2k) [SugarDaddy!Harry] snip.

Unrequited Lover — Falling in love with your best friend tends to change things a little. (3.9k) snip.

Meet Me Where the Dark Is — Parted by the gods, Harry and Y/N find their way back to each other. (3.2k) [KoH!Harry] snip.

Say it Right 🍒 — When Harry’s delinquent behaviour gets him transferred to a new college, he and Y/N (who seem polar opposites) form a strange kind of relationship. (23.6k) [RoommateFratrry] snip.

//

Discontinued Oneshots

What Love’s Supposed to Feel Like — Harry rents out a cabin in the woods for the winter, and y/n is struggling to move on. (10.8k) snip.

//

Blurbs + Requests

Y/N’s sick and Harry takes care of her.

CEO!Harry forgets your anniversary.

Harry’s on shift when you’re rushed to A&E.

Harry has a talk with his son. 

Harry gets a little jealous at a party. 🍒

Wholesome and clumsy sex with husbandrry. 🍒

Husbandrry taking care of drunk!Y/N after a night out with friends.

You’re in the wrong and Harry makes sure you know it.

Phone sex with Harry while he’s on tour. 🍒

You have a bad day and Harry helps you relax.

Soft boyfriendrry when Y/N's feeling a little blue.

[illfoandillfie]

pretty please can I have a (smutty) ~1969 roger x reader blurb where they’re both students and reader is trying to convince roger to actually study for some dentistry exams (since we know he didn’t really bother much with that LMAO)

could maybe go down the ‘roger would rather have sex so reader uses that to motivate him to study’ route? or just whatever comes to your mind really, I love everything you write ❤️

btw no worries if you’re not able to / don’t want to, my imagination has got me this far haha (or I’ll just read curtains for the 50th time 💀)

oh this was a fun prompt! hope you like it as much as curtains 😜

“Mesial. Front surface of a tooth. Distal is the back surface.” You mumbled to yourself, double checking your notes to make sure you were correct. A sudden knock interrupted your revision. The familiar beat against the door told you exactly who it would be (even his knocks had rhythm) but all the same you were a little surprised that Roger had come to your dorm room.   “You should be studying.” you said once you’d let him in, though you softened the words with a quick kiss.  “I was trying to, but then I thought some hands-on research would probably help it all make better sense.” As he spoke, Roger turned and wrapped his arms around your waste, pulling your hips to his and leaving you with no doubt what sort of research he meant.   You didn’t want to encourage his behaviour, but it was hard to resist as he kissed you properly.   It took a moment to clear your mind of his lips and everything they were capable of, but you somehow found the power to break the kiss, though you let him keep hold of your hips for now “We need to study, Rog.”  “Pfft, I’m thinking of changing courses anyway.”  “I know but you should still do some study for this exam in case you can’t get into a new course straight away. Failing would be really bad. You can stay here though and study with me. We can quiz each other!”  Roger raised an eyebrow flirtatiously.  “Not that,” you laughed, perfectly used to (and very grateful for) your boyfriend’s libido.  “You know there’s this theory that sex can boost brain performance. Maybe if we fucked it’d help me focus on dentistry.”  You rolled your eyes and Roger poked his tongue out as a comeback.  “It wouldn’t just be for me though. You’d get a brain boost too.” Before you say anything about his attempts at seduction Roger continued, “Besides, I’ve tried studying. Nothing’s sticking. I think the only way I’m likely to remember any of it is if it’s written on a pair of tits.”  You frowned, his disheartened tone and self-depreciating words a cause for concern, though you tried to keep your response lighthearted, “Surely that’ll just distract you in the exam with thoughts of tits.” When Roger didn’t perk up you decided to change tact, rubbing one palm along Roger’s shoulder and collarbone. “Hey, you’ve got this Rog. You know you’re actually really smart. It’s a bit annoying really.”  “Not about dentistry I’m not. I look at my notes and it’s like trying to read fucking Chinese or something.”  “That’s just you’re messy handwriting. But,” you hummed in thought for a moment, “I suppose I might be able to help.”  Roger’s tightened his hold on your hips as you removed your hands but he didn’t complain as you drew your shirt over your head, revealing your braless chest to him.   “R-really?” His hands slid along your sides but paused before his got very far.   You shrugged and walked backwards towards your bed, “Worth a shot, isn’t it?  His eyes darted from your face to your breasts and back again, though his gaze eventually settled on your chest as he nodded his agreement, “Can’t hurt.”  You giggled and told him to grab a pen out of your pencil case and the notes you’d been looking through earlier.   Roger was quick to collect the items and quicker to start scrawling notes along your breasts in thick black marker as you read them out to him. Each note was followed by his mouth on your skin – sometimes soft kisses between your breasts and up to the base of your throat, sometimes little nips over words you’d emphasised, and sometimes sucking your nipple into the warmth of his mouth.  

At first you giggled but after enough notes and enough attention, you were breathing harder, nearly moaning at his attention. It was a little surprising just how horny you were getting, definitely much wetter than when he’d first arrived. Roger had always been a fan of your tits and you always enjoyed it when he’d touched them but usually you were very turned on before he got your top off. This instance just showed how capable he was of pleasuring you. You’d not had any intention of fucking him when you’d opened the door, but now you were contemplating all the other places he could be kissing, thinking about how hard he probably was, and your resolve to study was rapidly crumbling.   “What next?” he asked softly, pressing another soft kiss to your sternum.  You glanced at the notes, trying to make sense of them.  “Love?”  “Oh fuck it, get your pants off” you let the notes drop to the floor, needing your hands free to get the rest of your own clothes off.  "What happened to studying?” Roger asked cheekily, already working on his fly.  “You need a reward for doing so well.”  “What if all you can think about during the exam is my mouth and cock?”  “I’m willing to take that risk.”  Roger laughed as he settled between your spread thighs, but his lips found yours as he finally sank into you, muffling your moan.  

[parkerpeter24]

List 3 - prompt 17 and 28 with tasm!peter where he eats all her cookies she made and he tries to make up for it by making some for her but in true peter style he burns them 😂

ooh i love that idea!

pairing: tasm!peter x reader

winter blurbs 2.0 ❄️ | 2.0 masterlist ❄️

peter was guilty. he was ready to make up for it, though, even if it took wrapping himself around your leg like a koala do to acacia trees.

you had told him not once, not twice but thrice to stay away from your garfield cookie jar for the reason that you had saved yourself the cookie he offered you last night.

you denied his offer because you felt too full after the christmas eve dinner and wanted to save the sweetness for later. but the cookie was gone now because “a rabid pigeon flew in and took it!”

however, after ample of ideas failed to justify how the cookie had disappeared, peter decided to repent by baking you a whole new batch. it was too early to decide whether his plan was working or not because the cookie dough tasted good but maybe he could have added more sugar and to make up for that, he decided to add more chocolate chips.

so overall, the situation was under control.

the real problem started when you finally returned home and he was forced to confront you about his mistake.

“hey y/n.” he gave you an overly excited smile.

“hi?” you chuckled, placing the bag of groceries over the table, “is everything good?”

“yeah, yeah. absolutely, what makes you think otherwise?” he asked.

“.. nothing?” you tried to ignore his weird behaviour and moved on to pull out something from the bag, “hey, by the way i bought some-”

“okay, fine! i had your last cookie!” peter exclaimed, cutting your sentence short and adding quickly, “i wasn’t trying to. it just happened. how are you supposed to stop yourself if you know there’s that delicious thing laying right there. those are kinda my thoughts on you too.” peter sighed casually.

“woah, woah, woah.” your eyes grow wide at his last comment, “calm down, sonic.”

“okay, but please don’t be mad at me. please.” he came closer to you, placing both his hands on both your shoulders, “are you still mad because i ate the last cookie?”

“i’m not mad.” you replied.

“are you sure? because you don’t sound very happy.” peter stated, a pout forming on his face.

“i’m not.” you shook your head, “in fact i kinda knew you wouldn’t be able to resist yourself so i bought these for us.” you finally pulled out a bag of cookies from the bag, showing it to him.

“oh my god.” peter laughed, “that’s so smart of you.”

“alright cookie theif.” you mock-rolled your eyes at him, feeling his arms enclose your shoulders.

“call me whatever you want.” he hummed, burying his face into your neck. you smiled, hugging him back. you were loving the warmth of peter’s body pushed against yours but a foul smell pulled you out of your little peter-bubble.

“um, pete?”

“yeah?”

“do i smell burning?” you asked, making him pull away and rush towards the kitchen.

“Oh My GoD the cookies!”

taglist | masterlist ✨

taglist : @httphollands @the-girl-in-the-chair @annathesillyfriend @uwiuwi @spideyspeaches @prancerrparkerr @usergarfields @theglitterymess @quaksonhehe @lowkey-holland @starlight-starks @piscesparker @incorrectsourwolf @wildxwidow @annab-nana @blankspaceblankday @kelieah @arvinsvintage @parkersdahlia @raajali3 @tommyfroggie @saturnpeter @ellabellabus07 @holland-styles

[pianocat939]

Hi there, i would like to request a blurb if that's alright

i was wondering how your wonderful Yandere boys would react if they saw the long-healed but still visible self-harm scars on their loved one? (any place is suitable for scars btw) the funny thing is is that they would see these scars purely by chance, since their beloved constantly walks in closed clothes, because they don't want people to stare or something ( totally not projecting here hehe)

It is totally okay if you don't want to write it though!! Drink water, have a great day/evening/night!!(Love your blog by the way, byeeeee)

Did I just unleash a new wave of traumatized people wanting to read about their comfort characters with my recent post?

TW: past self-injury, slight mention of stalking, Leo gets depressed, manipulation, be very cautious if this is a touchy topic

✦Rattler of the Beans✦

He stills, eyes widening at the sight of the marks. It was a brief reveal, but he saw it crystal clear. He doesn't pry, and acts everything is fine, but around the times when you're not near, he chisels down any sharp objects in fear you may do something harmful again. He tends to be more watchful over you, whether it's watching you through the window or clinging to you, he's not going to let you exhibit these harmful behaviours. "You've got nothing to do tomorrow, right? Then why won't you stay the night over?"

✦Lanky Goat Rider✦

Gonna be honest with you guys, this is going to further put him in his "I'm useless" state. "Wow, I truly am a failure, aren't I?" It's hits him hard that he couldn't even protect the one person he loves from themselves and places him in a conflicted state. On one hand, he wants to do the whatever it takes to keep you out of harm's way, but on the other, he wants to sink in a pit of depression. So, in the end, he does everything to keep you unharmed but anything else he's going to be depresso espresso.

✦Do Re Mi Fa Sol La Ti Do✦

Drama Queen #1. I'm sorry if this may trigger you, but he's going to inspect any body part that has the scars. And while he does so, he's going to ask questions. It doesn't matter if you try to brush it off, he takes it as a big deal and will not rest until he knows he has everything to never let you do this again. His eyes are crazy with madness, and might even keep you with him at all times (minus when he goes to battle). "Nope, come back here. You're not supposed to leave my side, I need to take the precautions to ensure your health."

✦Hey Macarena✦

Flabbergasted af. He questions why you would do this to yourself; why would anyone harm such a wonderful person like you? It pains him so much he'll cry and attack you with a hug and not letting go. "Why?! Who hurt you so bad that you hurt yourself? I- it kills me!" Straight bawling and mumbling that he's going to always stick to you so you don't witness it ever again. Babies you a shit ton and might even get Dr. Feelings out. Now, when I say Dr. Feelings I mean it'll be like a therapist but with a lot of reassurance. He'll be giving a compliment every other sentence.

(Idk how to feel rn. There isn't much to say...)

(Jfc my house is freezing. I can't believe the heater broke down in the middle of winter and it's going to be broken for another week ;-;)

[oneforthemunny]

hiiii! i love your lore and all your fics 😃

can i ask a question??

how would eddie and nepo explain his past behaviour to the girls? i think sephy would find out first and be upset about it

thank you!!!

I mean it's kinda unavoidable in the day and age of the internet especially. eddie probably thinks he has some time and then thirteen year old sephy comes home sobbing bc some kid at school told her that his mom slept with eddie and has a tattoo to prove it (you're a real one if you remember that og blurb lol), and she's just distraught bc wdym???? you're only supposed to be with mom, dad!!!! and like eddie is horrified and so are you. he does not handle it well, honestly, he just kinda freaks out and it's a mess.

it turns into a "you do as I say not as I do" situation bc eddie is mortified. def the type to be like "don't be like me, be like your mom" and when sicily and sienna start getting crazy into the la party life, he loses it bc he's scared like this is his karma (and it is).

really the girls live by a don't ask, don't wanna know bc ew it's disgusting to them that's their dad. however, when he starts trending on tiktok... like vega has a field day tormenting him.

she's the type to make him blind duet it and it's like the story times about the inspo behind balcony babe (refer to groupie love in the masterlist for more context lol) and he is horrified. takes her phone but not before it goes viral lol (more of his karma).

[astroboots]

7, 12, 27, and 28! 💕

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

Rather lengthy snippet so I've put it under the read more cut 😀 a oneshot of how Miguel met Nena from EYEM.

12. Do you outline your fics? If yes, how detailed are your outlines? How far do you stray from them?

Depends on the nature of the fic. Oneshots -- absolutely not, it's just a messy stream of consciousness. But for long series I do outlines in order to make sure that I do not contradict myself too badly with the plot and have an idea of how it's going to end. They tend to be short blurbs for each chapter just so I have an idea of how long the story in itself will be and where I might need to cut down on subplots so I do not go mad with the word count. However sadly, I always do end up veering off course, both in word counts and plot, especially as I become more familiar with the characters' voices, more often than not I realize that what I had in mind with the plot is out of character with their behaviour and motivations and I will have to course correct.

A good example of this is in Red Flags. Initially Marc and reader was not meant to be a slow burn. It was supposed to be an enemies to lovers three parter, where reader meets Marc and they have angry hate sex, and instead it turned into... an 100k plus word fanfic, where they spend most of the time together eating breakfast and falling in love with each other torturously slowly.

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

I feel very comfortable writing emotional scenes, and getting into the inner workings of how an ordinary person would feel even in the most bizarre and supernatural situations.

28. What area of writing do you want to improve in?

Brevity. God do I wish I could just calm the fuck down sometimes with the descriptive word vomit.

FANFICTION WRITING ASKS

[sinfulspencer]

HEYYYYYY RO!! CONGRATS ON THE 600! I meant to send an ask.. but I forgot-

Cherry: send me a song you love and I'll write a blurb for it!

So the song is..

Drum roll please

Boyfriend by Dove Cameron!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: cheating, dirty talking, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, semi-public foreplay

Words: 1.9k

A.N.: I love cocky Spencer. He’s a bitch. Also, that song gave me slutty vibes so I had to write a smut blurb. Hope you like it.

Aurora's 3k followers celebration Send your request here. I have my anons turned off for personal reasons, but if you want to request something and stay anonymous (so people won't see your @ when I post your request) please DM me.

I can’t believe we’re finally alone I can’t believe I almost went home What are the chances? Everyone’s dancing And he’s not with you The universe must have divined this What am I gonna do? Not grab your wrist?

“Thank you for staying with me tonight.”

Spencer leaned against the car door. “I’m sorry he ditched you.”

Sighing, I looked down at the tip of my shoes. “He’s a bit of a dick sometimes.”

“It’s your birthday and he left you here to go bowling with his friends.” - he added, crossing his arms to his chest - “I’m not sure he’s just ‘a bit of a dick’. I’d say he’s an ass.”

Snorting at the choice of his words, I shrugged. “He’ll make it up to me, I hope.”

Despite my date’s behaviour, I enjoyed the night out with Spencer. It had been so long since we spent some time together and it felt refreshing to convince him to dance with me, share orange juice non-alcoholic shots with him and laugh at the people who were dancing on the tables. 

“I’m not sure he will, darling.” - Spencer said, glancing behind me - “He was supposed to celebrate your birthday with you and…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” - I shut the conversation down - “Stop it.”

He nodded, accepting my limit. “Sorry.”

I leaned besides Spencer against my car, staring at the dark sky above us. He was right, my boyfriend was supposed to be with me for the night but instead he chose to be with his friends - people he sees almost every day at work, at his place, everywhere while he struggled to find free days to be with me. 

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be between us. 

“We’re alone now.”

I turned to look at my friend. “Yes, we are.”

I didn’t read too much into his words, leaning my head on his shoulders and allowing Spencer to hold me in his arms. He smelled like peaches - and maybe it was because I spilled my peach juice all over his shirt before we came out of the club. 

Spencer tapped the back of my hand. “Listen, there’s something important that you should know.”

“Hm?”

“I could be a better boyfriend than him.”

My lips parted at his implication and I pulled away from him. “Spencer, I…”

“Have you never thought about this before, hm?” - he asked, taking a step closer and putting himself in front of me - “Are you denying how happy you are to be with me right now?”

I couldn’t talk, completely flabbergasted by the way he was behaving. I had a hint something was going to happen between me and Spencer when he held me in his arms and danced with me inside the club, but… I never pictured us together the same way I should have.

Spencer would’ve been a much better suitor for me than the dickhead I was with, I didn’t have any doubts on that - and maybe I should’ve thought about it.

“I, listen…”

He silenced me, cradling my face in the palm of his hands. “I am a better boyfriend than him.”

Spencer kissed me before I could reply to him, before I could even think about pushing him away - and maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I was waiting for a chance to taste his lips, for having a glance of how my life would turn if I chose him instead. 

Pressed with my back to my car, Spencer kissed me to prove to me that everything I was feeling in that moment - anger, passion, devotion, happiness - could be amplified if I let him do what he was silently begging me to. He could turn those feelings into something powerful, into something so intense that would burn both of us and leave us craving for more. 

My lips desperately searched for his’ when Spencer pulled away to breath, before diving back in for another kiss. My hands were pawing at his chest, trying to find a way to get what I wanted without making the situation more messy than it already was.

I was celebrating my birthday with my friend instead of my boyfriend.

And I was kissing that friend, instead of my boyfriend - but I didn’t care, it felt too good for me to stop and realise how wrong everything was. At that moment, it felt like all those pieces of a puzzle came together and formed the most beautiful of images.

Spencer ran his hands down my waist, reaching for my thighs. “If I could give you some advice, I would leave with me tonight.”

He didn’t need to tell me that twice, because I was already nodding my head. 

Our lips connected again while his hands sneaked underneath my skirt, feeling the warmth of my skin finally in contact with his fingers. Despite the weather being slightly colder than usual, I was burning up - a fire deep within me was spreading through my body and I needed Spencer to extinguish it. 

“Spencer..”

He silenced me again with a peck on my lips, looking around in the parking lot. “I wasn’t joking when I told you we were alone.”

Gasping at his implication, I pressed my hands on top of his. “We can’t, it’s… What if someone sees us? You can’t get caught with your hands under my skirt like a pervert.”

“Hm, maybe I like that.” - he shrugged, making me chuckle - “This would be just the prelude of something else, if you want.”

I hesitated, looking around in a desperate attempt to make sure there was no one else besides us in the parking lot. There were people near the entrance of the club and there were cars driving around, but they were all far away from us - and couldn’t really see what was going down between me and Spencer. 

When I turned to Spencer, I smiled at him. “Make me feel good.”

“Gladly, darling.”

Spencer leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss at the base of my neck, before pulling away and staring at me while his hands did all the talking. I knew he wanted to kiss me again and I was dying to feel those lips against mine, but we had to be alert - we couldn’t get caught like that. 

We didn’t want to, despite the idea being incredibly arousing. 

“Stop me if it’s too much or if you change your mind, okay?” - he said, brushing his fingers over the damp spot in my panties - “You’re already soaked. Fuck.”

I brought my right hand behind his neck, nodding. “Yes, yes. Please, touch me.”

“Anything for the birthday girl.” - Spencer replied, hooking his index under the smooth fabric of my panties - “But I need you to look at me the whole time. Can you do that for me, angel?”

Nodding my head once more, I ran my fingers through his curls while Spencer slid his index between my folds. He could feel how wet I was - and it wasn’t just because his cock was pressed to my inner thigh, but also because he was taking someone who didn’t belong to him. 

It turned me on, it was so hot, so intoxicating. 

“So pretty and so needy, aren’t you?” 

I bit my bottom lip, rolling my hips so that he would get the hint. I needed to be touched and I needed to feel his for a few moments - I needed to know how it felt to belong to Spencer for one night. 

“I dreamed about doing this for so long, angel. Touching you like you deserve, bringing you pleasure, serving you like I know I was meant to.” - Spencer leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the lips, while his index pressed against my entrance - “Do you feel what you do to me, angel? Do you feel how badly I want you?”

I was trembling under his touch, completely under his spell. “Yes. Please, Spencer.”

His index slipped right inside of me and I was forced to suppress a long moan, covering my mouth with one hand before I collapsed against Spencer’s chest. If there were any people around us, they would  probably think we were hugging.

I squeezed my thighs around his hand, but Spencer didn’t stop touching me. His fingers caressed me and stroked me from the inside, eliciting more moans that crashed against his chest so that nobody could hear us. No matter how exciting the idea of getting caught was, I couldn’t let that happen. 

Just like how I should've let that moment happen, but my frustration and my pent-up desire towards Spencer got the best of me.

“Don’t hold back, angel.” - Spencer whispered, using his free hand to grab me by the chin - “ Let me hear how much you like when I touch you.”

I stared into his eyes, forgetting about the music coming from behind us and the sound of cars passing through. I focused on the pleasure he was bringing me with his fingers, pushing me closer and closer to that delicious edge I was seeking. 

The way he was looking at me made everything feel even better. 

“So good, Spencer.” - I whimpered, grasping the car handle with a hand - “So good.”

His fingers pressed inside of me as I covered my mouth with a hand, hiding my face against his chest. Spencer chuckled when he realised how close I was and how I was slowly losing control, as my moans became louder.

He was basking in the pleasure he was bringing me, moving his hips against my thighs in an attempt to get some relief. I wanted to bring him the same amount of pleasure, but his fingers kept going in and out of me at a quick pace - I was too distracted, too needy to do anything. 

His name fell from my lips in the shape of moans and curses, before the pleasure washed over me and tingles ran through my body. 

“That’s it, angel. Come for me, come on my fingers.”

Spencer’s voice encouraged me to move my hips, riding my orgasm ‘til I was completely flushed against his body and I couldn’t breathe right. Every inch of my body was on fire as I hid my face in the crook of his neck, repressing every whimper that could roll off my tongue. 

When I was able to catch my own breath, I laid pressed to his body. Spencer pulled his fingers out of me and brought them up to his lips with no shame, staring at me as his tongue cleaned my essence off.

My thighs were shaking and I felt my face get hotter, blushing hard at the sight in front of me. He was so shameless and I loved it, probably more than I should have.

“Spencer, fuck.”

“Next time you’ll see him, you’ll remember this moment.” - Spencer whispered to me, grabbing my chin - “Unless..”

I slid my arms down on his chest, struggling to hold onto the fabric of his shirt. How could he talk to me about my boyfriend after what he just did to me? Giving me what I had been craving from him for months? 

“You..” - I whimpered, straightening my skirt with my trembling fingers - “Take me home. Now.”

Spencer hesitated.

“If you want to show me that you’re better than him, take me home.” - I added, looking up to meet his gaze - “I dare you to do it.”

Spencer waited to see any sign of hesitance on my features, but I wanted to be with him more than anything. I was in a relationship, but a failing one and I had no shame in admitting how horrible and wrong the situation was.

It didn’t change anything. As a matter of fact, it turned me on even more.

Trouble came in pairs, so what was wrong about jumping in feet first?

[autumnrose11]

For Book Ask Game: 1, 7, 20 and 45 😌

Thank you for the ask!

1. Name the best book you’ve read so far this year.

It’s a tie between Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen and Educated by Tara Westover.

7. What kind of common romance tropes do you enjoy and what kind do you dislike?

Hmm. I like romance novels where the two characters have a believable conflict, and find something in each other that’s worth going after. I like it when one of them puts the other’s happiness above their own. Or when their love endures through even the toughest circumstances, like war and prison. (Atonement, I love you!) When they compromise with each other and find a middle ground and loves the other person while asking nothing in return.

As for the dislikes.... I deeply dislike novels where the relationship is toxic, and it’s basically abusive which is disguised as “love.” Where the guy has a so-called “traumatic past” (which is supposed to excuse his behaviour) and it’s the girl’s job to “fix him.” Also, the trope in which a character’s terrible personality is glossed over and excused simply because they’re “hot.” Grrrr.

20. Where and how do you find good books to read?

It varies. Sometimes it’s recommendations from family and friends and Goodreads. If I visit a bookstore and look at something intriguing, I usually read the blurb and skim through the first few pages and decide if I’d like to give it a shot.

45. What book(s) would you sell your soul to get a movie/TV adaptation of?

My Dear I Wanted to Tell You by Louisa Young, and its sequel, The Heroes’ Welcome :)

[cavorta]

#bookreview

»Chasing Ghosts: The Quentin Strange Mysteries Book 1« by Dean Cole

The Blurb: Haunted pasts. Terrifying apparitions. Dark secrets.Quentin Strange is … well, strange. But it isn’t just his anachronistic sayings and dress sense, the fact that he’s a socially awkward, book-loving loner who’s possibly still a virgin at nearly thirty. He’s seeing and hearing things. Odd things. Ghostly things. Getting the gig as photographer for the Cricklewood Gazette, he travels with his new partner, journalist Katrina (make sure you call her Kat) Brannigan, to Hilderley Manor, an enormous manor house nestled in the remote countryside of Northern England that is believed to be one of Britain’s most haunted buildings. The pair join a ghost hunting team and a group of fellow guests for a long weekend of ghostly activities. But something dark haunts the draughty corridors of the house. And it links to a decades-old mystery that is about to be uncovered.

A mystery like no other. A story of the supernatural. Of death, and what it does to the living. The first book in a series, Chasing Ghosts is a quirky British haunted house mystery exploring the paranormal elements of our world with touches of LGBT romance, humour and horror.

My Review:

The style of this book is excellent in my eyes, the descriptions, for instance of the old house and the landscape, are very atmospheric and vivid. I could imagine all of it quite well in my mind. There are some interesting, deep and profound conversations and also extrasensory perception and spiritual topics are discussed, for instance by a medium called Esther. I liked to read about those very much.

In my eyes, none of the main characters, Quentin, Will and Kat were easily likeable in the beginning. They are rather complicated, Kat is quite flippant most of the time and Will is often very sarcastic. But then again, this is a scary tale, and I often found stories of that genre where the main characters are not sympathetic. Quentin is supposed to be in his late twenties, but his manners and behaviour gives the impression of being far older, at least in my eyes. However, something traumatic happened in his past (and I won’t say more because of spoilers) which might be an important reason why he is the way he is. And over the course of the story, I grew fond of these three characters.

In my eyes, this novel is more character-driven than plot-driven. Yes, there is a ghostly mystery. But there are also the complex backstories of Quentin and Will (and of another person) – and the author tells them in detail. The character-arc of Quentin is well developed.

Conclusion: This was a real treat for me to read and very suitable for October aka »spooky season«.

Website of the author: https://deancolebooks.com/

[bibsy]

“My head is in circles” blurb (re: motherly/fatherly upsets) and I need to get it out

Someone asked me today what positive, older influences I have in my life. I said I can’t think of any. Maybe my grandpa, but I see him a couple times a year. I felt bad saying that when I thought of my parents specifically.

I hate that when I look in the mirror, I see a mix of both my mother and father. I am their child. I am the concrete product of the individual they raised. All the words they’ve expelled in front of me over the years - they’ve engrained in me.

My mother’s responsiveness; it’s effected me. She’s said many times how I have “chemical imbalances in my brain”, that I have to stop crying, stop faking, shut up. Yes. Did my childhood education matter? Yes, that’s where she was wrong. I was motivated to get through school, I knew it’s importance for my future, and I made that clear despite her opinions. Does my college education matter? Yes. I’m not bothered she took back my scholarship money. I can support myself. Do my friendships matter? Yes. They do so much. It hurts to think that she influenced me to not think I was valued. I think about things she’s said. I think about friends I lost.

I think about my dad and how afraid I was. I think about how i’d feel alone with him. I think about how my mom watched him physically hurt me sometimes (and vice versa; I suppose they knew I was deserving, or didn’t want to influence the other?). I think about the handful of times he hit me so hard across the head, and the sensations i’d feel with that. I think about being dragged up/down stairs and on the floor in front of my friends. I think about the embarrassment I felt when they’d see my dad hurt me. I think about how they’d see me cry, and then he’d send them home. I think about being locked out of half the house. I think about not having access to my room unless my dad was home and let me in. I think about how my brother didn’t have a bedroom until we moved out.

My dad did try to be present sometimes. He runs a high stress level, constantly. My mom also has a high stress level, constantly, but she kept food on the table and managed to buy me most things I wanted, and take me places.

I think about being right in the middle of my parents relationship. They told me so many lies about what I knew as truths, and vice versa. I think about how confused I felt, how confused I still feel, every day. I can’t trust either of them. Both of them want my trust. It’s so hard to trust. Both of them want to confide in me. What am I receiving except the hard blunt of their lives?

I worry for my brother. I have to be strong for my brother. I have to protect my brother. He received the abuse of my parents too, but moreso the emotional abuse of my father.

I think about the development of my life, my responses, my parents responses, and how all these individual experiences, added up, affect my behaviours now.

My DNA, my culture, my cognitive abilities, my behaviour, my environment; everything has been influenced by my parents. I have been shaped by them. I try to change my behaviour, do things differently, be my own person. But I can never truly escape either. I look like them. I am becoming them. History repeats itself. I am my mother, and I am my father. I am both of their personalities combined into one grotesque person. How am I a teacher? How do I have such opposing values, motivations, alternative mantras, etc, to live by, yet I am still like them? I don’t want my students to grow up completely in an environment like I did. I want the kids I work with to feel loved and heard at all times, when they are at school. I hope school can feel like their break from home. I hope the time I spend with them makes even the most minuscule difference in their growth. I hope some of what they take from school affects them at home.

And I want to grow into a person that is unlike my parents. But I still have to look in the mirror every day and see them.

I am disgusted, nauseous, and horrified in myself. I can’t think about this anymore. I can’t type about this anymore. Thank you tumblr void. My body feels hot.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hi bb congrats on 3k followers 🥺 you deserve it!! How about a smutty/angst blurb with nat, bucky, and reader being in a relationship and right now it’s going bad because something(idk what could happen it’s up to you) happened leaving bucky and nat at odds with reader trying to figure out how to get them to love each other again

Also you aren’t dumb 😡 it was an honest mistake bub

𝐼𝑁𝑉𝐴𝐿𝐼𝐷𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

Summary: based on the request

Pairing: BuckyNat x reader

Warnings: 18+, polyamory, angst, arguing, swearing, blame, smut, threesome, oral (male -> female & female -> female), face sitting, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, p in v sex, cum eating, talking of death

Word Count: 4617

Masterlist Link

Caught in the crossfire yet again, a worry condoned your face into a suitable expression; one of agony as you listened to the pair of your beloveds argue in your shared home. Their raised voices made it sound as though you were entrapped in a war zone, the attacks were consistent, and adjacently brutal, as they passed through your ears, succumbing terror to your being as you feared of what was to be of the three of you. The idea of such an ending was expected, all had been good, up until a few weeks back, coming home to one another had been a haven, now for them it were a dragging chore. Once, they had valued one another’s presence, hugging you in the warm embrace of peacefulness, it had been somewhat of a dream. Despite all the words and judgemental thoughts that you were shunned with in public, nothing became a barrier in the triangular relationship that you were involved in. It wasn’t a flaw in the mechanical works of your emotions to break you apart, it was simply normal for you to endure, but this, their constant screeching at one another had not been.

Glass infrastructure; a vase plummeting against the wall made you jump, shocked by the violence that they were presenting in the household. That vase had been a housewarming gift from Steve, whom seemed to be the centre of their problem. Bucky was angry with Natasha for her constant flirting with his best friend, he wasn’t appreciative of how often, even when you were all tucked up in your king sized bed, that she would be on her phone, texting the blonde for hours on end, making the man on one side of you grunt at the woman on your other. Nat scoffed at Bucky’s derelict behaviour, crossing her arms over her chest as she passed judgement onto his destructive action. “That was such a necessary thing for you to do Barnes, if I were you, I’d clean it up before your ratty little cat steps on a shard.” Alpine was seated on your lap, nuzzling his pink nose into your stomach as though he were trying to escape away from the midst of the argument and the brief mention that he was given. Lightly, you stroked comfortingly over his soft white ears, imagining that would mute the sound out from passing through them.

“You are such a bitch Natalia!” He knew that she didn’t like to be called that, a scowl frustratedly pulled at her face, as her emerald eyes pointed a squint in his direction. “Why do you have to be like this, a pathetic whore for attention from any man or woman that gives you the time of day? Steve didn’t ask for you to constantly fondle his arms at Tony’s parties, he tells me everything. Like how you have an inclination to flirt with him and offer to go away with him on a fucking road trip. All these secrets are mounting up, and I am getting sick of it. Why can’t you be more like y/n?” His voice sincerely cracked, making your eyes widen from the mention that stringed you into their serious and painful bickering. That was certainly the wrong thing for him to have said, Nat took a step of disbelief back, frowning at him as he kicked the pieces of broken porcelain about with his foot. Tears began to build up in Natasha’s eyes, making you recoil with Alpine in your arms, and stand, carrying the little fella out of the room as you entered the shared bedroom and slammed the door shut.

To topple the wavering current that was overflowing the house like the events of a tsunami, you swiftly locked the door from the inside, a reassurance that they could not enter and that you’d be left alone, and hopefully in a somewhat surrounding of peace, even if that be for the limit of a few minutes. Bucky huffed, gripping his scruff in the palm of his hand as he shook his head at Natasha, tensing his nostrils as he glared at her. “Now look what you did.” He blamed her, though if he were to comprehend an accurate fault, the dismal accountability of all things that had urged you to leave and trap yourself away with the precious feline was a balance on both of their parts. At his childish and metaphorical finger pointing, Natalia as he had called her, crossed her arms over her chest, taking a few steps back as she were ridiculed by the circumstances that he proposed upon her. “It’s so rich of you to cluster a web as disgraceful as this, Black Widow, it is clear that you were trained in the red room, a habitat for the sinners that deter the prospect of having serum running through their obsolete veins.”

The condemned usage of her heroic title belittled her, though she remained standing strong against one of her lovers, whilst the other, which was informally you, were cloaked away in the dense atmosphere that was once filled with the notion and ambience of intimacy and endearment, but was now stifling under the thumb of hoisted reverence. Natasha knew, and was concerned for your well being, aware that you’d be tearing profusely up at all of which you had witnessed; it was no pretty sight, you had for a long time evened out the ground for her and Bucky, but it seemed that your attempts at validation were no longer enough. They were falling out of love, leaving you in the middle of their poisonous and collapsing feud, of which made you substantially torn between both counterparts. Nat opted for biting her lip, and screwing her fists into balls of restraint, as she whipped her back into Bucky’s sight, and headed towards the master bedroom, rapping her knuckles against the door, halting your movements of running your fingers through Alpine’s snowy locks.

Each time you combed your hand through his soft coat, small strands slid from the outer layer of his shell, coating your leggings in small follicles that promptly stood out. It was a coping mechanism for the ravenous banging that obstructed the other side of the door; it was driving you mad, and admittedly it’d be a lie if you were to say that you weren’t tempted to unlock your barrier of security, but you had to remain strong and stand your ground against their unchivalrous bullshit, that was until they had the means to sort their transgressive mess out on their own. You had no intent on being pulled in by the strings, being controlled and manipulated like a puppet, dangling from the hands of an opposing man and woman whom were supposed to adore one another as much as they did you. Alpine’s staring was getting too much, it was as though he were judging you with his moonstone blue eyes for your ignorance of every singe thing outside of the room. Bucky stepped behind Natasha, his demeanour infuriating her all the same, but she continued to hold her ground steady, adamant to not step down from her position.

“If she doesn’t want to see me, then you’re definitely not going to sway her judgement and conception of opening the door.” Bucky squinted at her, taking offence from her words, without so much of an ounce of concern, pushing her out of the way, and tapping his scarred knuckles against the door, earning a similar lack of response, causing Nat to become smug with his deflation of confidence. Just hearing them bicker was driving you mad; Alpine, though considered to be formally owned by Bucky, one of the lovers whose words were torturing you, was the only source of comfort that you were reviling in. You hugged him to your chest, stroking the side of your face alongside the surface of his coat, as you tried to compel regents of coaxed calmness. They were toxic for one another, as had recently been revealed, but they still strived towards one of their selfish desires; and that was you. No longer did they have a hook line and sinker to reel you in, you were standing your turf as you awaited for their insistent bickering failed to cease.

“Y/n, doll, open the door.” Bucky made his attempt, speaking through the barrier and still not gaining a response from you. It was moulding his voice into a muffle as he tried again, but groaned simultaneously. To say Natasha was not impressed with his failure at getting through to you came as no surprise to her, she couldn’t quite blame you fit not wanting to talk or respond to him; she wasn’t keen on that entailment either. And it was definitely because she was majorly pissed at him, he had gotten so far up his own ass and it was irritating. He was feeling severe pity for himself, and whilst it was sometimes understandable why he was feeling so, it was not fair for him to take thus emotional charge out on Natasha. But the treatment went both ways, she was picking at him on purpose, trying to irritate him to the point where he would feel invalidated, and that she was the target of his cold brashness. You couldn’t quite your finger on why it spurred into such a terrible environment to inhabit in, however to your own dismay, it had, and it now basically mirrored hell with the torture that you endured through your cowering ears.

“Y/n honey, can you please open the door for me?” Natasha’s voice came across as sweet and collected, and could deceive anyone whom didn’t know the problematic endorsement into thinking that there was nothing wrong out in the hallway. But you knew, far too well for your own liking that that the pair of them were struggling to feel an ounce of remorse for one another, let alone love, which left that as a far fetch in their pessimistic eye lines. They loved you, and only you, congregating your three person relationship into nothing more than an accepted love triangle, and they seemed to be temporarily stable with it (if that is how it could be recorded), however, you were anything but pleased with the end result. You had tried to help make things work between the pair, but everything that yo put into action only appeared to drive a deeper wedge in the middle of them, and make a piece off them crack and wasn’t you to themselves, greedily so.

“Yeah, cause she’d sure open it for just you. I’m the golden ticket here, we all know she prefers new, and for good reason. At least every time that she wants to see me, I’m not busy with work or kissing Fury’s ass because I have a constant fear of having my intentions misinterpreted for being pardoned after all the crimes that I have committed. Half thee time you’re not even around, I’m sure she thinks that you go out of your way to avoid her, and even I don’t appreciate that fact. That’s why she clings onto me like I’m her last hope, and the reason as to why she wants us to move closer to the Wilsons; so she’s not as lonely as she currently is. I bought a cat because i knew that she is by herself half the time, what’d you do, install cameras so you can ensure she’s safe? Safe isn’t the word for that if you’re going to make sure that she’s watched in her own home, she waned time away from the compound after everything that we have been through,yet you still make her feel like its following her to eve bleak corner of this home.”

“More like you’re the golden ass here because that’s all you’ve been since Steve decided to give up the shield and pass it to Sam. Anyone’d think that you’re jealous Barnes, and that you want to be Captain America. Spoiler alert; no matter what title that you frame yourself by, or decide who you are that day, you will never carry that shield or don the helmet of true patriarchy, you don’t know how this day and age works. You will never lose the looks from people that you have stolen from, to some of them, the White Wolf is just a pathetic charade, in their eyes, you will always be the Winter Soldier.” Her words were like venom, causing discourse that diverged through the household, splitting the members apart and diminishing their morals. Though you still held onto your own strong, despite their perpendicular quarrels that formed enemy lines against ione anther. You were the white flag, wishing to prohibit a truce for the potential future that you shared together, but they were clearly still deciding on that matter. It was exhausting to endure really, even as you arm constantly waved the blank canvas in their faves as though you ere fine to start all over with each other, and you were if only things could work out; that was your largest concern, minus the fact that you often worried that they may murder one another in their slumber and you’d awaken to bloody sheets and a possessive one partner.

“You want to go there Romanoff? At least I never was prepared to sacrifice my life so that I could save the universe. But you’re back, and that’s one of the many times that you have fucked with my girl’s head. You wonder why she no longer wants to save the world - it’s because you’ve ruined it for her, one second she’s in mourning from your selfish actions, the next she’s relieved that you’re alive. That is one apparent difference between us, I am prepared to give up all this superhero bullshit up, yet you’re not. And it doesn’t just fuck with her, I’m victim to it too, and you’re not even just oblivious to how I feel - you’re ignorant. Please just get a grip Nat, and choose a priority, because this is not fair any more, and I am almost done here.” She analysed him, and you could hear his voice crack through the sternly closed door. Water pooled in his baby blues, but he ensured that no tears escaped, even as he sadly with conflict looked on at her.

“At least I didn’t kill Tony’s parents. Or y/n’s.” It was affirmative that she wanted the attention that was brought to her other commitment to dissipate, but Bucky wouldn’t release it, he was like a dog tugging on a rope. He was relentless as he verbally tore into her, and made her feel conflicted about the life that she wanted. In theory, that was the worst thing that she could have switched the pointed focus to, and you picked Alpine off from your lap, and set him on the bed. With silent footsteps, that you had no doubt that Bucky had picked up on with his enhanced senses, though he remained silent and said nothing of your movement, as he stared Natasha down, tensing his jaw as he ran through his brain of what to say. He was trying not to burst, he absolutely resented being reminded of all the things that he had been coerced into doing by HYDRA, and the fact that you were listening in made the situation that bit more vivid. Of course you knew of the murders that he had made upon your bloodline, however it was rather obvious why it was not brought up often, and yet, Natasha just couldn’t let that one slide. It had taken much time for you to warm back up to Bucky after you had discovered the crime that had taken a toll on your quality of a life as a child, but eventually you had been able to look past the things that he had done as a brain washed assassin and see the real him.

“Are you shitting me?! That’s what you bring up, right now of all times. She’s never gonna open that damned door if you keep running your mouth like you’re a fucking god, privileged to say what you want without consequences. The subject is consequences is why I’m so fucking done with you, one day I’m going to wake up to a call that says you’re dead, and that’ll be on you. And then it’ll be left to me to break the news to y/n. Stop acting like being an avenger is your only purpose, and if it is, I’d leave, that level of premature emotions in a relationship when you have a preference of being somewhere else with us is thoroughly not needed. You think I’m being a dick, sure, whatever, but at least I’m not lying to you or y/n, or my godforsaken self for that matter.” His hands made destructive gestures as he spoke, it was overall emphasis on how she was frustrating him - in other terms she had turned him into a time bomb, and he had blown. He had congregated into a mass of flame and debris, of which he was depositing within the walls, his clear anger throwing Natasha off and causing her breath to hitch as she took a step back, and braced her fingers against the wall, gulping as she became unsure of what else to say as a retort.

Your head felt like it was about to split in two, the existing lanes were overlapping; you pressed your ear to the door to confirm that strangely, for once in a long time, there was evaluated silence on the other side. For just a second you turned back, and watched as Alpine climbed onto the window sill, choosing to slip beneath the blinds so that he’d get a better view of the traffic outside. Taking a breath, you put your hand upon the doorknob, feeling the cold metal hiss against your warm skin, curling your palm around it until your slid your other hand to the lock, and pushed the fine bolt to the side, deciding to give into your own hopeful whim and open the door. The sight you were met with were the pair of them staring at one another, it almost resonated as a glare, but something else was dictating behind their adamant eyes. To soothe the commitment that they had made, of not being together but standing their in uptight silence, you walked to stand right between them so that you could snap and break their eye line. And it worked, bringing a light furrow to Bucky’s brow, and apologies of words to catch in Natasha’s throat.

“Is it over now?” It wasn’t your intent to make your voice sound as meek as it had come across, but it had, and it made Natasha feel figuratively worse about the entire ordeal. She was worried that you would call her out on the calamity that she was facing, though you did not; there was no point beginning another argument, more so when everything was now out in the open, and nothing was secluded from speech. Nat smiled at you, and raised her hand, stroking your cheek as Bucky watched with tender eyes, finally calming down. She nodded to answer your enquiry, enforcing you to sigh in utmost relief. Natasha pulled you closer, and pressed her lips against your own, as to silence the possible next words that could leave your mouth. You melted into her calm course of collision that you had moulded into, humming contently into the cavern of her wordless canal, a hand trailed over your back, it was firm and you could feel each nimble detail of vibranium that was etched into the rare metal through the material of your shirt. "Can we go to bed?" A substitutional pout made its way onto your lips as Bucky pulled you to the side, swiftly.

But instead of walking away like you feared he would, he cupped the redhead's face, and slunk his lips atop of hers, arising a wide smile upon your cheeks, finally seeing them finding solace in each other’s company. Nat pushed Bucky back to you after a minute as she backwards dragged you into the room, the super soldier picking you up as he carried you through the walls and threw you on the bed. Your body bounced for a moment, until it settled atop of the sheets, and Nat crawled towards the head of the bed, looking down at your face with her emerald eyes, engorging in the sight of your blown pupils that were directed towards her. Her hands cupped the roundness of your cheeks, descending her face lower as she purchased her lips upon your own, humming into the coven of your mouth as you reached up, tangling your hands within her red hair that she had cut above the shoulder again.

Your hips jolted on their own instinct as Bucky tore your leggings along with your panties off from your body, the cold air attacking and biting at your legs and beyond as you tried to get used to the drop in temperature below. Nat’s hands descended from your face and began to grope at your tits, leaving you in a blissful wonder, as Bucky’s warm breath hit the insides of your thighs, the contrast of his hands stroking up your legs being one of extraordinary anticipation. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t already straddled his face and set the pace yourself, though you allowed him to continue as you made out with Nat.

To provoke him into doing something more, you waggled your hips in his face, only to earn a vibranium grip on either side, holding you down and restricting you from teasing him. “I’m sorry doll.” He spoke, feeling terrible that you had heard him taunt and pry at your other third with such spite. “We’re sorry baby girl, to each other and you.” Natasha removed her lips from your own as she ogled down at you, her feline like eyes causing you to hitch your breath in your chest. She was so beautiful, each part of her was absolutely stunning, little did you know though that she was thinking the exact same about you.

“Quit teasing her Buck, give our girl what she wants.” She commanded him, and delightfully he had no hesitancy nor quarrel against her words. He ushered his face closer to your crevice of instance, nestling it towards the natural heat that radiated from your pussy, brushing the tip of his nose against your clit as his tongue darted out from the oyster of his mouth, travelling up your slit as he confided his lips around your pearl, heavily suckling upon it as yo cause your back to lurch upwards and your hands coil in the sheets below you. Nat ran her thumb over your mouth, sinking it into your mouth as you suckled upon it, your lids fluttering shut from the combination of sensations that collided through your body.

“Taste so fucking good doll, you’re addictive.” Bucky’s lips brushed against your cunt, as he raised his vibranium fingers towards your entrance, sinking one solidified length into you, as your walls clamped down on the metal. Moans ripples out from your throat as he added another one and lowered his head once more, sucking on either side of your labia, his searing blue eyes gazing into your own that were heavily lidded and struggling to remain open in the long run. “So tight, can’t wait to get my cock in here and stretch it all open so that I can go again and again.”

“Why wait?” Nat asked, aiding you in sitting up as she pulled your shirt up over your head, and then began to undress herself also. “You could just fuck her now, get your pretty prick into her puffy little pussy until she creams all over you. Just thinking about that is getting me wet, do you want to eat me out baby girl?” She enquired as she licked her lips, tugging the last garment that was on her body down that were her panties. A breath staggered out from your throat as Bucky pulled away, pressing one last kiss onto your slit as he began to remove each article of clothing that covered his flawless body.

“Yes please Natty.” As soon as those words beckoned out of your mouth, the redhead held her hands onto the bed frame, and moved to sit on your face. You were enamoured to see the sight of her cunt above you, it made you salivate from the way her flower was splayed as her clit poked out, undoubtedly aroused as she descended it down onto your face, and quickly you began to eat her out, sliding your tongue up and down her cunt, until you reached her entrance and fucked get with your wet muscle. Though your pace faltered as you felt Bucky’s tip prying at your own entrance, sinking in and making you moan against Nat’s wet cunt.

“Shit you’re so fantastic with that mouth of yours, imma ride your face for a moment baby, and I know that you can handle that.” Natasha spoke, raising up and down in the air so that your tongue was penetrating her more and less as she controlled the pace. Once Bucky had settled inside of your walls, his hands clasped onto your hips as to use them as leverage to fuck deeper into you with discretion, making the bed shake as the triad of you went at it like touch deprived animals. “I’ll forgive Bucky for anything if this is what I get.” His hand slapped her ass at that, causing her to press further down onto your face, and you to moan at the flavour of her landing on your tongue.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum all over your sexy face.” The pitch of her voice got higher as you doubled your efforts, grasping onto her ass cheeks to hold her against your face as your tongue traced every inch of her insides, her wetness spreading along your cheeks and splashing around your lips. Your own sounds vibrates against her mound as Bucky fucked into you, grunts coming from behind Nat’s overlooking silhouette, his flesh hand trailing down and pinching at your clit as Natasha orgasmed upon your face. You tried to clean up the mess that she made but she got too sensitive and crawled off from your face, laying down beside you as she watched your other lover fuck into you.

Her lips pressed kisses over your neck as Bucky couldn’t help but ram his length further into you, causing you to orgasm as he pulled out and stroked at his cock, finishing on the bottom of your belly as he held his head back in continuum relief. “Holy fuck.” He breathed, crawling into the bed beside you as Nat took up hearth on your other side, resting his head into the cushion as he caught his breath. Nat’s fingers ran through the cum on your stomach, collecting it on the pads as he raised it to your lips, smirking as you bobbed your head hungrily on your fingers despite your dazed senses.

“We sure do all make a good team.” Nat admitted, turning your face to hers to press a kiss against your lips, delving her tongue into your mouth as she pulled away and rested her head against your breasts. “And I love you.” Bucky repeated the words, leaving you to be the only one to say it back, and you didn’t hesitate to do so.

Bucky Tags; @tylard-blog1 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @kaitieskidmore1

[iliveiloveiwrite]

take me by the heart, take me by the hand // Elijah Mikaelson

A/N: An extension of the blurb I wrote on my blurb night a couple of weeks ago!! My taglists are open! If you would like to be added, drop me an ask and I’ll add you!! I hope you all like!

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x GN!Reader

Warnings: jealousy, soulmates, pining, mutual pining, mentions of food.

Word count: 2.1k

The sun was shining when Elijah Mikaelson began to understand jealousy in its unending torture. He wasn’t used to such an emotion. He wasn’t used to the blind rage that filtered through his body when he caught sight of you laughing with his brother. He wasn’t used to the want that would settle deep within his gut whenever he made you smile, laugh.

He supposed there was a sick juxtaposition in the fact that there he was, a creature of the night, sitting in the sunlight as he watched you laugh along to whatever story Klaus was currently telling.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t felt jealousy before, but Elijah had never experienced it to this extreme where he felt like the villain of a fairytale, desperate to steal the innocent love interest away and keep them for eternity.

“You wrestled a bear!” You gasp, bringing Elijah’s attention back to the room. Your eyes are  wide as you hang onto every word of Klaus’ story.

The narrator nods; a smug smile crossing his face as he begins to act out the crux of the story. “We had this newfound strength after we were turned by our mother,” Klaus explains, “And the bear was easily disgruntled, choosing me for its next meal.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, love,” Klaus croons; his smile turning to a smirk as he hears Elijah grit his teeth. “I chose to engage.”

“Why would you choose to do such a thing?” You demand; eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern for Klaus’ ability to make sane decisions. Elijah makes himself turn away; if he could, he would press away the furrow between your brows with a kiss, explaining that his brother was ever the exaggerator as he was an actor.

Klaus shrugs, lounging in his chair with a self-satisfied expression on his face. “Because I could and can,” He answers plainly, catching Elijah’s narrowed gaze from across the room and raising a single eyebrow in challenge.

Elijah doesn’t rise to the bait; doesn’t give himself the chance to. Instead, he leaves the room, feeling your frown on his back with every step he takes away from you.

“Have I done something to offend your brother?” You ask Klaus; your voice small as you stare at the doorway Elijah only walked through moments ago. Elijah had been off with you for weeks; staying in the room with you for limited amounts of time before stalking off to another room. He rarely spoke, but the soft timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine with every word uttered. You couldn’t bear the thought of having offended the man you found yourself attracted to.

“You’ve done nothing, love,” Klaus reassures in a rare moment of affection. “My older brother just has some issues he needs to work out.”

“Oh,” You reply, falling quiet and remaining so for the rest of your time spent with the supernatural family.

----------

“Are you going to explain what is wrong with you, or are you going to stew in your feelings all night?” Klaus demands of his brother as soon as he enters the room, having seen you off only moments ago. The decanter of whisky sits open on the coffee table; one glass out of the two already filled halfway. Klaus helps himself to the other glass, pouring a knuckle’s length of the amber liquid.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Elijah states airily, bringing his glass to his lips. He knew full well that he was jealous; he knew that was distancing himself from you and his sibling, unable to bear the rising envy clawing at his throat. What pains him most is that he can how his distance affects you, how hurt you look when he returns clipped conversations. The furrow between your brows deepens and he feels like a monster for being the cause of it.

“Your behaviour in front of (Y/N),” Klaus explains, doing his best to keep the anger aimed at his brother at bay. “They think they’ve offended you.”

“(Y/N) could never offend me,” Elijah states vehemently.

“You’re going to have to explain that to them.”

“I will eventually,” Elijah sighs, finishing off his drink and quickly refilling it.

“Whatever it is, brother, you can tell me,” Klaus promises in a rare moment of softness.

“That’s the thing, brother,” Elijah begins, “I don’t know what it is. All I know is that I see you two interacting and I lose my mind to jealousy.”

“Ah,” Klaus whispers, a knowing smile on his face as he places his glass on the table. The younger of the two men stands, clapping his brother on the shoulder before leaving the room.

Klaus finds it hard to keep the smile off his face as he wanders the halls of his New Orleans home. His brother had found his soulmate and hadn’t realised it. Their mother had warned them of such magic; the natural magic of the earth that created two souls to be intertwined perfectly. Outwardly, Klaus didn’t put much stock in the belief, but he had seen his mother turn his siblings into monsters cursed with having to walk the night for an eternity. It would make sense for soulmate magic to enter the Mikaelson home once and for all.

Elijah doesn’t stand from the chair; he remains seated for the night, resting his chin on his hand as he tries to get to grip with the feelings roused in your presence. He can no longer deny the attraction he feels for you; can no longer ignore the fact that he would give everything to wake up in a morning with you beside him, but what he cannot explain is the darkness of the jealousy holding him in its grip.

He only leaves the chair when he hears your voice chiming off the stone walls of the compound they call home. Your laughter lightens the atmosphere of the house; bringing joy to a home that was so used to the darkness of Klaus’ moods.  

The kitchen is bright with the morning light as Elijah settles at the table; his gaze already fixed on Klaus and yourself. The former grabbing a box of cereal from the cupboard as you help yourself to the fridge for the milk.

It’s as you sit down that he begins to feel it. The sunlight catches you perfectly; your hair practically soaking up its rays as if you were to become the celestial being itself – the brightness radiating out of you with every laugh, every smile, and every animated gesture of your hands as you tell off Klaus for the fifth time already today. Elijah tightens his hand into a fist in an effort to keep the growing possessiveness at bay.

He didn’t know where it began; this dark urge to possess you. All he knew was that the majority of the time, his thoughts revolved around you along with the word ‘mine’ on repeat. The façade of the gentleman, so carefully crafted after a millennia wandering the earth, began to crumble in your presence. Elijah could feel the green eyed monster clawing its way through his body, its claws sinking in deeper with every friendly glance at any man that wasn’t him.

“It comes with finding your soulmate,” Freya announces to her younger brother; the earthy scent of sage blooming around her as she takes a seat next to him. Elijah raises a single eyebrow in question; not in the mood for futile conversation today. Freya represses the urge to roll her eyes as she elaborates, “The jealousy. The irrational anger. The want. It comes with finding your soulmate.”

“Soulmates are a myth,” Elijah counters, finding his gaze drawn to you – watching you talk to Klaus, laughing at one of his calmer moments. The very action has Elijah clenching his fists to keep the anger at bay.

Freya fixes her younger brother with an unimpressed look. “Elijah, you’re one of the oldest vampires in the world, and I’m a witch. We are the myths whispered around campfires.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Elijah wonders in awe. “I never thought I would have one,” He continues in a softer voice, thinking of his past lovers – they had never made his mind race, or his breath stop in his chest, they were never his last thought at night and his first thought in the morning.

You were, however.

Elijah meets the gaze of his wiser, older sister to find her already watching him with a fond smile on her face. “Go speak to (Y/N),” She urges in a soft voice, “Explain everything.”

With the support of his sister, Elijah makes his way to where you sit with Klaus. His younger brother already regaling you with one of his many stories about his past; the darker parts of each tale hidden away this early in the morning. Klaus pauses his tale as Elijah clears his throat. “Could I have a moment of your time?” Elijah asks of you, glancing between Klaus and yourself. Klaus raises an eyebrow but wisely remains quiet.

“Of course,” You murmur, standing from your chair, following the older gentleman to an alcove just down the hall from the kitchen.

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour,” Elijah starts when he feels certain that his siblings aren’t listening in, “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way over the past couple of months. I’ve been coming to terms with some personal things and Freya, thankfully, explained the cause of such behaviour this morning.”

“Your apology is accepted, Elijah,” You laugh, smiling happily at the taller gentleman, taking note of how he seems closer to the Elijah you have come to know and love. “What did Freya explain if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind at all,” He answers, “You’re bound to find out eventually.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Elijah!”

Elijah chuckles, smiling down at you indulgently. “I was jealous,” He explains; his face turning thoughtful. “I couldn’t figure out why. Whenever I saw you speaking or laughing with another man like Klaus or Kol, or even Marcellus though I know he’s happy with Rebekah, I was overcome with such intense jealousy that it was hard for me to get control of.”

“You were jealous?” You splutter, “Of what?”

“Of the men you so easily formed friendships with. I wanted to be the one you smiled at, that you laughed with.”

“I thought you hated me,” You confess timidly. “I thought I had broken an ancient vampire protocol and I had offended you.”

“You could never offend me,” Elijah states, “And I could never hate you, it’s rather the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

Elijah nods. “Freya explained to me the existence of a magic I once believed to not exist. I had never seen it; thus I could never state its truth. It wasn’t until Freya explained that the reason behind my jealousy and dark moods was that you are, indeed, my soulmate did I even remember that such a powerful magic exists on this planet.”

“Soulmate,” You breathe, peering up at Elijah through your lashes, “I’m your soulmate?”

“As I am yours,” Elijah swears, stepping that little bit closer to you.

“Vampires… witches… soulmates,” You whisper, unable to comprehend the change in your belief system.

“You’re not upset, are you?” Elijah asks, reaching for your hand. He need to know your feelings on this; should you not want the bond; he would take a step back. It would hurt, but he would do it for your happiness. Should you accept the bond, he would be a man in possession of the greatest living thing on earth – you.

“I’m not upset,” You promise, smiling at the original vampire, tangling your fingers together.

You place your free hand on Elijah’s chest, fully aware that you would not feel a heart beat under your palm. Even through the designer material of his perfectly tailored suit, you can feel the coolness of his skin and whilst many would be repulsed by the lack of warmth, you only feel further attraction for the man in front of you.

Elijah’s hand covers yours; the action speaking louder than any words could. He can feel the life thrumming through your veins; the vitality that punctuates the air with every breath you take. He feels drunk on his feelings for you; at a loss to understand how your paths crossing months ago could lead to a moment like this.

“I want a forever with you,” You whisper boldly, moving your hand to the back of Elijah’s neck.

“Forever and more,” Elijah promises; sealing the spoken vow with an unhurried kiss.

*****

The Originals taglist: @angelxnaa

Special fic tag: @elijahs-wife