#but by god!!! i will draw!!! something!!! for heatwave!!! or at least write something!!!

[moonlights-inkwell]

Demand an Encore

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 6,958

Summary: anon said: hello! i see your requests are open...! could i maybe get a Jaskier x reader where the reader very shyly explains (maybe after an embarrassing moment?) that they are into spanking? and Jaskier indulges them and it is fluffy/smutty? if not, that's okay!! i figured I'd ask. thank you! 💜

A/N: Anon. I literally owe you my life, because Dom! Jaskier now literally lives rent free in my head. A fic from Jaskier's perspective? It shocked me too. Oops. Also. Clapping joke title on a spanking fic? I think I’m way funnier than I am  

Warnings: Smut. Spanking. Oral (female receiving). Clothed sex? Sorta. Discussions of Sadomasochism. Canon complicit violence. A very bad take on Jaskier's perspective.

Title from Wild Blue Yonder

“Oh wank!”  

The expletive draws his eyes from his lute and upwards, to you.  

You’re busy, always busy, swinging that blade about and clashing it noisily into Geralt's. Parry, swipe, dodge, sword fighting is as boring a sport as Jaskier can even imagine, only marginally better than fencing because at least there’s some danger to sword fighting. Paint drying is a more interesting thing to watch, lectures less painful to listen to. Jaskier hates it. Sparring holds no interest to Jaskier, beyond when he tries to describe how sword fighting looks for a new song, but there are no new songs. The monsters have seemingly realised that Geralt is about, and have kept themselves to themselves, and so the well of songs about danger and adventure has dried up- like a brook during a heatwave. There’s no song about battles to be won, and if he plays Toss A Coin once more then he’s quite sure that Geralt will shove his lute up his arse sideways. All he wants is to work on a new melody and the clanging is quite possibly the worst thing he can imagine. The clanging, clanking, crashing of steel on steel is enough to drive him to distraction. All he needs is a new song, but no. He simply must be tormented by the sound of metal hitting metal. Needs must apparently, at least when it comes to sparring. 

He’s sure Geralt is doing this to spite him specifically. Revenge for years upon years of songs and mindless chatter and taunting, wrapped up with the knowledge that the bard would never complain about your training- that your safety is paramount to him, even if it is noisy as all hell and infuriatingly distracting.  

Cornflower blue eyes scan up and take you in, on hands and knees and holding your sword at such an angle to block Geralt’s swipe; face crumpled with effort and concentration while the Witcher above is as stoic looking as ever, bringing his blade down closer and closer until you slide to the ground and roll away from the sword. The buckles of your over-bust drags against the ground and knocks loose two of the buttons of your blouse, revealing an expanse of skin below the clavicle and to the dip in skin between breasts.

He wonders, not for the first time, how you manage to fight in a corset. When he was a lad, a little longer ago now than he’s quite happy to acknowledge, how a girl at a ball had collapsed because her corset was laced too tight and even after fetching a healer, the girl walked awkwardly until he left for Oxenfurt, probably long afterwards too. Yet, you can fight in one, swing that blade around with a relative ease that Jaskier can’t even manage if his trousers are tailored too high in the crotch. It’s strange. Watching you duck and twist, bend and thrust that blade around all while being held in place by tightly laced bones, it’s impressive- like watching someone dance. You aren’t a master swords-man but you’re skilled and it’s nice to watch. The exhilarated grin across your face, panting with heaving chest: it’s beauty. Pure, unadulterated beauty, even with a smear of dirt across your cheek, sweat beading about your forehead and a nick on your arm that’s letting out a small but steady stream of blood trickling down from your upper arm.

“Better.” Geralt says firmly, Jaskier watches as your face breaks into a grin and you just glow. A relaxed, genuine smile that makes you look younger than you are. You've mocked him before for how he just soaks up any validation, but even the slightest praise has your skin all but shining, cheeks flushed and mouth upturned. He understands entirely. Praise, acclaim, acknowledgement, it’s addictive; more so than any ale, any drug. Praise leaves you desperate for more, shaking and craving a next hit, almost insecurely hoping against hope that any second will bring that much needed praise. Bard's are like faeries, they require attention to survive while thriving on the energy people give, And Jaskier has been desperate for attention long before he became a bard.  

Praise from the Witcher is a seldom given gift- one that Jaskier doesn’t think he’s ever been given- but he praises you. Training is important, and Geralt seems to have realised that he’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so sparring is when he speaks most, even then it’s minimal though; but he compliments. Your form, your grip, the strength of blows. Praise from the Witcher is a seldom given thing.

Jaskier isn’t jealous.  

He isn’t.  

Jealousy implies that there’s something to be envied, like a possession that he wants. You aren’t a possession, he knows that, and even if you were, you wouldn’t be Geralt’s. His fingers fall from the frets of the lute, sending a sour note that makes him cringe out through the clearing.  

“Gods, Dandy- if that’s a sign of what your new song sounds like then I don’t think I want to hear it!” You call over to him, head tilted as the sword twirls between your fingers. “I thought you were supposed to be a good bard.”

“You wound me, Love. Wound me.”  

“No good bard would write Toss A Coin.” Geralt says, but there’s humour in his voice- well, humour enough for it to be noticeable against Geralt’s signature style of stoicism. Must be a good sort of day, for Geralt to be joking about and complimentary. These sorts of things don’t happen every day.  

“Leave him be, Bully!” You swat at Geralt's side, grinning at Jaskier. “Don't you worry, Dear Heart, I love you- even with this brute insulting you.” It’s as if you don’t even remember that you started the insults, but that smile is enough to keep him quiet. That must be a sign of love, that Jaskier could be quiet for you: he’s never been silent for anyone before, even when he had himself half-convinced that he was in love with every person he's spent more than a night with, he’s never been able to keep quiet for more than a few minutes or so, he’s felt an overwhelming need to fill the silence. It’s pleasant to just bask in atmosphere that comes from being about you.  

The swat at Geralt had not gone unnoticed, even if it took a moment or so for him to strike you. Geralt, facing Jaskier, lifted a hand to thump you on the back, too absorbed by the simple pleasure of retaliation to have perceived two very simple things with those enhanced Witcher senses: that the laces of your boots have come undone, and that you had bent down to tie it.  

Time slows sickeningly, as Jaskier realises what’s about to happen only a second before the SLAP comes through the air at a volume none of you anticipated. Not to the lower back, a spot that while painful is little more than inconvenient when hit, but instead to your arse- angled upwards as you bent to fiddle with the ribbons of your shoes. The white-haired man had wanted something vaguely friendly but still running with undercurrents of the same energy that comes from sparring, but instead he had brought one enormous hand down onto your arse with some force. Unexpected, and completely out of nowhere as it is, it somehow is not the most surprising part.  

The moan is.  

A loud, broken moan- somewhere between pain and pleasure- which Jaskier knows all too well. That sound haunts his dreams. Jaskier would know it blind, dumb and senseless. Your moan, normally reserved for during the nights when his fingers slide inside of you, when his tongue breeches you. It’s weak, beautiful, and oh so very unexpected. Its a noise more beautiful than music, more beautiful than the sound of children’s laughter- always his , finally heard by another. Geralt looks horrified, cat-like eyes wide and filled with something akin to fear, but nothing like the unadulterated horror written across your face; sun-coloured skin turning red with embarrassment, lips parted wide but slowly contorting into a grimace, eyes wide but watering.  

Jaskier forces himself up and towards you, while Geralt steps back, saying your name softly and apologetically,

“I am so sorry-"

“Little Miss-"  

“I'm going to the stream to wash!” You say loudly, side-stepping around Jaskier to make a beeline into the thicket of trees, where a stream was hidden. Without any thought, Jaskier groans and looks up at the Witcher, eyes narrowed into accusatory slits.  

“So much for those Witcher senses of yours.” It’s a ridiculous thing to be annoyed about. Geralt does not have any feelings for you beyond the platonic, and Jaskier knows that, knows full well that Geralt wouldn’t do something like that to you, least of all in front of your lover and a man far too willing to write humiliating songs about Geralt.  

“It was an accident.” All stoicism has returned to Geralt’s voice, despite the still apologetic look written across his features. “She’s going to hate me. She sounded so pained.”  

That almost made the Bard splutter with laughter. Moans like that are many things but not pained, at least not in a way that isn’t seen as pleasurable. Somehow, he manages to keep the laughter down and instead claps a hand to the taller man's shoulder.  

“I doubt she hates you. Missy is a resilient little thing.” He tries to sound comforting, but some humour seeps through, making Geralt turn and squint at him.  

“This isnt funny, Bard.”  

“I’m well aware.” Jaskier nods. “I'm going to check on her though. To make sure she hasn’t drowned herself.”  

“Don’t joke.”  

“I’m not.” He trills as he walks along the step-worn path to the trees.  

The stream is a pathetic little thing really, barely a foot in width and surrounded on all sides by the thickest section of trees which almost blocked out all light. It was easy to believe it was around dusk, but it couldn’t be much later than midday, the shade made it appear so much later than it was. And there was you, hunched over by the reeds and moss, scooping up water and splashing it in your face and onto the gash still trickling blood to try to clean it. Even in spite of the shadows, your flushed cheeks are still clear to him and he stops to take you in.  

He’s had many lovers. Too many to list really, but not one of them holds a candle to you. Every girl before you was perfectly primped and polished, in fine clothes with perfect hair and made up faces, and they were beautiful but artificially so. Made that way by clothes and corsets and cosmetics. You though, you’re something else. Beautiful with the sun in your eyes, unkempt hair and rumpled clothes. Indescribably perfect cast half in fire-light, with bags beneath your eyes and blood across your cheek. Sonnet worthy while drunk and stumbling, singing out of tune to his ever songs. Godly in the dark, mouth open and back arching towards him as you stumble headfirst into climax. He loves you. He loves you, and it’s the first time he thinks he has ever really loved anyone: more than infatuation, more than lust, but actual love. Love that makes his head muddled and heart sore. He doesn’t deserve you. Wants you, needs you, but will never deserve you. Reckless, wild and brilliant you, willing to leave a life behind to fight monsters. A fool. Beautiful little fool, selfless and-

“I can feel you staring at me.”

“Hard not to stare at a goddess. Careful, I hear some gods will drown pretty things like you out of jealousy.”  

“Fool.” You say softly, but there’s a chuckle in your voice so he comes closer to you, stepping behind you to twist your hair away from your throat to press a kiss to the crook of your neck.  

“Your fool.” He breathes out shallowly, letting his chin rest on your shoulder while his arms wind about your waist. “Are you alright, Dear Heart?”  

“Embarrassed, I suppose. My pride will recover though, Dandy.” The lightness of your words combined with your stiff posture makes sure Jaskier knows you’re lying.  

“Little Miss-"

“Geralt must be embarrassed as well. I should have apologised to him before-"

“You moaned.” He cuts you off, making you shut up, stiffening even more. “And you may try to deny it, but I know that noise. I might just be the only person who knows that noise.”

“Jaskier.” It sounds like a warning, but he doesn’t care.  

“If it’s because it was Geralt, I understand.” He says softly, feelings coming out unbidden. “I understand, of course, and I love you but I understand if I’m in the way.”  

“I liked it. Be... being hit. Not Geralt.” You whisper.  

It truly is a day of surprises. Jaskier can feel the grin slip onto his face and his hands move from your stomach to your hips to begin tickling.  

“Is that so?” He asks softly, revelling in your choked-out laughter and how you lean back against him. “My Little Miss wants to be spanked. Well, darling, you should have told me earlier.”  

“I didn’t know it was a thing!” You argue between laughs. Jaskier so often forgets that you were a virgin before he got his hands on you, so of course you hadn’t known. His tickling doesn’t stop as he pulls you backward, rolling you onto the ground and climbing on top of you to continue his assault.  

“Would you like a lesson in masochism, Dear Heart?” He teases, head tilting to the side as he looks down at you.  

“Maso-what?”  

“The pleasures of pain.” He explains, and watches how your face turns pink once more. “Oh, she does!”  

“Stop taunting me!” You argue, thrashing beneath him but not with any intensity.  

“Taunting? Never. I’m just trying to work out if I need to rent two rooms when we next go into town.” He too easily grabs at your arm when you reach up to swat at Jaskier. “For your lessons, I mean.”  

“You... weren't joking?” You ask lightly and he shakes his head.

“I never joke about teaching My Muse about what brings her pleasure.” He says lightly, climbing off of you to sit by your side. “If you want me to.”  

“You Wouldn’t mind?” You ask incredulously, drawing out a chuckle from the bard.  

“Darling-heart, don’t be a fool, of course I wouldn’t. You know how I like pleasing you, and having you know what pleases you pleases me. Besides, it’s hardly my first dalliance into sadomasochism; there was a countess I used to know who couldn’t achieve orgasm unless tied up, with wax melted on her and at least three people watching her-"  

“Jaskier.” You say softly, and he stops.  

“Sorry. What I mean is, liking someone slapping your perfect bottom isn’t something to be embarrassed by, darling. Alright?”  

“Alright. Thank you, Jaskier.”  

“No need to thank me, Dear Heart.”  

It takes weeks for Jaskier's plan to come to fruition. Weeks of traveling and camping in the woods until the three of you are able to find a town in need of a Witcher and his services. It’s a simple job, just a few drowners, but the pay is good and there is a very decent inn more than willing to accommodate all of you, and with two rooms none the less- which is far easier to negotiate while the two of you are off to do what you do. The inn-keep is a pleasant, portly man in his middle forties who seems to appreciate Jaskier's way with words, and is more than willing to forgo payment on the rooms in return for a show- and who is Jaskier to disagree with a deal such as that?  

His friendly demeanour is welcome too, means the Bard actually has someone to talk to while he awaits your return- but that plan dies a death when the job takes significantly longer than he expects. Normally, it only takes a few hours for something like this, but the sun is set and his songs just coming to an end when you finally return.  

The crowds, cider-drunk and rowdy had sang along to every song they knew, and sang over these they didn't- but that was fine. Drinking songs were always nice to hear, but their song dies when the door to the inn-cum-tavern opens and you pad in, followed closely by Geralt. Both drenched from tip to toe and scowling, hair stringy and clothes dark with saturation. That explains a fair bit and even with how upset you look, Jaskier grins, grip on the lute loosening and stage persona rolling off of him. Wet and angry as the two of you are, the sight of you is enough to make the crowd let out a loud, drunken cheer before beginning an enthusiastic if out of tune rendition of Toss a Coin. For once, the Bard is uninterested in joining in and instead opens his arms wide for you, it takes less than a minute for you to run to him and wind your arms around his middle while the people mill around Geralt to interrogate him about monsters and the like. Jaskier sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead.  

“You had me worried.”  

“Almost drowned. But I’m fine.” You say apologetically against his jerkin. “Tired though.”  

“I’ve booked our room. And I think my performance is over.” He says soothing, fingers carding through your wet hair. “Come on, Darling-heart.” He offers a hand, though it takes you a moment or so to reluctantly pull back from him you take it and follow him up to your rented room.  

The room is tiny, little more than a box room with just a bed and small table but it’s clean and that is more than enough for you. Before even a minute can pass, you release Jaskier's hand to flop down onto the bed, moaning when you sink down into the mattress.  

“Comfortable?” He asks playfully and you hum in agreement.  

“I got you wet.” You reply after a minute and Jaskier chuckles.  

“I don’t mind, now wait here. I’ve something to sort out for you.” The door clicks as he slips out of the room and you’re alone in the room, just you and the tingling sensation running through your body and making your brain feel as if a mist has descended over it, yet you don’t even realise it until the door opens once more and you lift your head up to look at the noise. It’s a girl, looking about fourteen or so, carrying two large buckets to the archway across from the bed which you had not even noticed, and in your drunken haze you consider why she would be taking buckets to another room through yours. Jaskier follows after her, buckets hanging from each hand and you notice how steam is billowing from the buckets until he disappears beyond the doorway. Confusion comforts your mouth into a frown, so instead of giving it much thought you let yourself sink back into the mattress, deciding it not worthy of a second thought. Water crashing against water echoes from the other room as your eyelids grow heavy and slip shut. Someone had told you once that the sound of water is enough to drive even an insomniac to sleep, you believe them in this moment, the sound of water is so relaxing to your dazed mind that you don’t question why you can hear it at all, so you simply shut your eyes and listen. You have no idea how long you lay there, listening and breathing, it could be seconds or millennia.

“Are you awake, Dear Heart?”  

“hmm?”  

“Come on, I ordered you a bath, you need it.” A bath. You smile and he grins at you. “Now, darling. Come along. You'll soak the sheets through.”  

“I'll soak you through.” You retort tiredly, rolling off of the bed and toeing off your boots before following him into the bath's room. He watches as you walk through and is upon you within seconds, unlacing your corset and unlacing your chemise before you can move your fingers to do it for yourself. “Julian, I know you find me attractive but stripping me?”

“I don’t want you dying of cold.” He chides playfully, kissing the exposed akin of your shoulder as he pulls off the blouse. “Forgive me for loving you.”  

“I love you.” You say softly and untie your trousers, pulling them and your underwear off in a single movement. He smiles at the sight and presses a hand to your lower back once you step out of the sopping fabric.  

“I know, muse. Now in.” He says encouraging you into the bath, turning to fiddle with a few vials of scented oils. “Rose, Lavender or honeysuckle?”  

“Lavender. It smells like you.” You say softly and sink into the water, letting out a loud moan when the heat overtakes you. He turns back to you with a smile and pours a little of the oil into the water.  

“Oh, you like the smell of me?” He teases and moves around towards you.  

“Of course, I do.”  

He smiles at that and sinks down to his knees behind the tub at your back and picks up a rag, soaking it in the water and then moving it up to rub at your shoulders and the knobbles of your spine. The sweet floral smell is carried on the steam coming from the water, sweet and familiar and made all the better by the contented noises that come from you. He likes you like this, all pliant and sleepy and willing to let him help without complaint, it makes him feel useful in ways he never can on hunts. You shoulder so much, act so brave and mature and it’s so nice to see you just let him take control and look after you. He hums a little tune as he washes your back and feels your back move as you chuckle.  

“Tickles.” You say, giggly and more awake than before. “What song is that?”  

“It’s something my mother used to sing.” He says gently, scooping up some water with his hands and pouring it over your head before working out some of the tangles in your hair. “I don’t think it has a name.”  

“It’s pretty.” You hum, head tilting into his hands like a kitten. “Why aren’t you in here with me?”  

“I got the bath to warm you up, Silly Little Miss. I’m warm.” He says with a sigh and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.  

“I want to touch you." You whine, twisting around to face him.  

“There's time for that later, Dear Heart. “ He shakes his head affectionately and kisses the tip of your nose. “I have plans for you tonight.”  

“Oh?” You ask, leaning up on your knees and allowing your breasts to lean against the lip of the tub. It’s a trick, trying to lure him in, and he knows it, but gods above it’s tempting. Far too much willpower is exerted to not reach out and take them into his hands. A siren, sent to toy with his heart and mind. He sighs and leans in to kiss you gently.  

“You remember a few weeks ago? When Geralt slap-"  

“Yes!” You interrupt quickly and he rolls his eyes, reaching up to smooth your hair down.  

“And you said you liked the feeling?”  

“I remember, Jaskier.”  

He smiles and rubs his thumb across your cupid’s bow.  

“Well. We have the room to ourselves, so I thought that we could experiment with that."

You blink at him owlishly before squinting at him. It would almost be enough to worry him, but he knows you too well to think you’re angry- you’re confused, but still very relaxed.  

“Experiment.”  

“Yes.”

“With you... hitting me.”  

“With you letting me dominate you, spank you, and make you feel good.” He clarifies. It sounds foolish, and far too perverse when laid out so candidly to someone not well versed with this. You nod sagely.

“...And if I ask you to stop them you will.”  

“Of course I will.” He says seriously and rests his hands on your shoulders, leaning in so you are eye to eye. “This is for your enjoyment, if you say stop, this stops. Just like always.” You smile and close the gap between his lips and your own. It’s soft and lazy, with no indication of proceeding any further than just chastely kissing, his hands still on your shoulders and your hands creeping up into his hair. It’s perfect, always is, and not for the first time, Jaskier considers that he could spend the rest of forever just kissing you and never be bored. Still, all too soon he pulls away, fetching a towel while you heave yourself out of the tub waiting for the bard and the towel. Even though you reach for it, Jaskier ignores your outstretched arms and instead swaddles you in it himself, drying you.  

“I can do it myself!”

“You can, but you won't.” He says firmly, rubbing your skin. Beneath the soft fabric, he can feel you start to struggle which makes him hum and swat at your arse. It’s not enough to hurt, especially through the towel, but it serves as a good warning for who is in charge tonight. Dominance is nothing new for him, but he isn’t dominant with you. You were a virgin when he met you, all sex had to be approached with kid-gloved hands, even now that you are confident with it Jaskier has never felt any need to try and guide you towards that sort of thing. Submission, he had assumed, would be a difficult thing for you; you spend so much time fighting and fending for yourself during fights, asking you to hand over control never seemed to be a good idea. Control keeps you safe but you trust him. Trust him enough to give him control. It’s enough to rush to his head, that level of trust. Of course, it’s flattering when anyone allows him control, but it means so much more when someone who loves him, someone who is so dangerous would allow themselves to be vulnerable. He loves you, has since the second he clapped eyes on you, but this is more than love now, this is adoration. “Now, be a good girl and don’t argue.” Seldom does Jaskier have a need to be stern, so you doing as he says is to be expected. You go limp, eyes wide as he towels you dry. “There’s my good Little Miss.” He says once he finishes, folding the cloth while you stand stock still, pupils blown wide.  

“Good.” You repeat back to him, starry-eyed and blushing, so he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before nodding.  

“Well, you are my Good Little Miss, aren’t you?” He asks gently, watching the enthusiastic nod he gets in response with a smile. “I know.” He says with an air of finality, turning away from you and heading back into the bedchambers to sit on the bed. It takes a few seconds of silent sitting for you to finally walk to the doorway. You’re naked as the day you were born, wet hair hanging in snakelike tendrils around your face, skin glowing gold from the warm light of the fire reflecting off of the still damp flesh. You’re beautiful. Too beautiful, comfortable in your skin and his looking at you, pale criss-crossing of scars running across the planes of your body like gold holding formerly broken ceramics together. How Jaskier has ever gotten a chance to lay his hands on you is beyond him, why a bard such as himself can even look at you, never mind touch or kiss you. A goddess, battle-hardened and wise, intoxicating and intense but oh so soft and kind.

“You’re staring.” You laugh, leaning against the door frame and smiling at him.  

“Yes. Yes I am.” Jaskier says simply and beckons you closer, which you do with a slight swing of your hips that he is entirely sure isn’t purposeful. You settle beside him, looking at him with a look somewhere between reverence and fear- like he's simultaneously the most beautiful and awful thing you’ve ever seen. He hates how much he likes it, the power it feels like he possesses in this moment. You look so small and defenceless, and he is too aware of how large he is by comparison. Usually, Jaskier feels slight- especially in comparison to Geralt and his hulking mass of muscle and manliness- but he’s suddenly far more aware of how big his hands are compared to your own, how he almost dwarfs you in height. You aren’t dainty, and he knows how much damage you can do with little to no effort, but you look so now.  

You lean in to him slowly and tilt your head, taking him in before smiling with a raised eyebrow. Well? Your face seems to scream. I'm waiting. It’s all the encouragement he needs to put his hand between your shoulder blades and push your torso over his lap unceremoniously. Every jutting bone, every knobble of spine, outline of rib exposed when you let out a noise of mild confusion, but rest there with your stomach over his thighs. His fingertips, calloused from lute strings but still soft from the warm water, trail down your back slowly; his skin is colder than yours, leaving goose pimples in his wake as he moves towards the rounded flesh of your arse.  

Pink and pert, the flesh juts out from the dip at the base of your spine, like a peach. Jaskier loves it. Loves all arses really. There is something so strangely enticing about them, likely the fact they’re so often covered that seeing them seems taboo in a way that seeing tits isn’t. Every inch of your skin that he gets to see is a luxury not afforded to others, and while his hands finally reach the plump skin, he had been moving towards he kisses your back, gripping one cheek firmly while rubbing soft circles into the other. A moan, airy and musical comes from you spurring Jaskier in his ministrations: shifting the cheek to the side, revealing a hole he had never paid much mind to at all, only to release his hold and watch as it bounces back into place. The jiggle is hypnotic, he thinks to himself wordlessly as he repeats the act on the opposite cheek, earning another moan from you in response.  

“Jask.” You whine out and he hums in confirmation, feeling you push yourself back against his hand. “Don't tease.” He chuckles. Teasing is hardly what he'd call it. No, this is isn’t teasing, teasing is something gentler than this. This is preparation. He can hardly just start spanking you, especially when you've never done it before, but the whining makes him smirk. “Jask, if you don’t hurry, I’ll go to bed.” You insist and try to push yourself off of him, so he presses down on the middle of your back and brings his hand down on your arse harshly.  

The sharp sound of skin-on-skin rings through the air, followed by a gasp. A tingle ran across his palm, and he snicks at the sensation.  

“I thought you were my good girl, not a brat, Missy.” He says, voice low and on the verge of a growl. “I told you, I am in control tonight. Not you.”  

Brat. You shiver at that, going still, and he smirks, grabbing the cheek he had just struck before tugging at it. He releases it before sliding his hand up your thigh.  

“I. I can be good.” You whisper meekly. That isn’t enough though and he swats at the cheek once more, lighter this time.  

“You will be good.” He corrects you, leaning in close to your ear and catching sight of your red cheeks and misty eyes. “I know you will be, won’t you Darling?” You nod quickly and he smirks. “That's my Princess.”  

At that, your posture loosens and you relax against him. Praise. That’s good to know. Lazily, he rubs a circle against the curve of skin before striking it once more.  

“I'm going to hit you ten times, and I want you to count them out loud for me. Can you do that for me?” He asks gently and you nod instantly. “I need you to use your words, Darling.”  

“I. I can do that.” You say, tilting your head to look at him with a sweet smile. Jaskier smiles back at you, then brings his hand back down with a hard slap.  

“One!” You say loudly, jolting forward and dragging your stomach across his crotch. He’s been so invested in planning and preparing that he hasn’t even noticed the hardness developing between his legs until it’s rubbed against. The moans from the bath had been enough to make him half hard, but seeing you like this, lips parted and the skin of your bottom turning an inviting shade of pink, it’s enough to have him fully hard.  

“Two!” You shout out after his hand lands hard against your rear before two more swats come in quick succession.  

“Three! Four!” The numbers are more moans than words, loud and needy. In the back of his mind, Jaskier wonders if the drunks downstairs are still singing and making noise, shouting and swearing, or if they too can hear the moans of pleasure. It’s sick, but he wants them to hear. Wants them to hear the pretty song that you’re moaning out, to look at you in the morning as you shift uncomfortably in your seat and know how you loved every second of it, see him smirk and know exactly who drew every noise from you.  

He’s a bard. He knows how to make noises, but these might just be the prettiest ones yet. A hand rubs at the pinking skin and then, quickly as it comes it's gone and brought down, this time to the space where arse meets thigh.

“Five!”  

He could listen to you moan all day. Sex, or at least sex while travelling, is normally a quiet affair. Quiet murmurs of affirmation, whispered begs and pleas, it’s not enough. Jaskier loves sex, loves the intimacy that comes from being as close to someone as humanly possible, but more so than the enjoyment of sex, Jaskier loves the theatrics of sex. Sex is like performing. Doing all possible to please an enthusiastic audience, listening to the sounds of enjoyment as it builds and crescendos, fingers moving faster, doing his best to not make a fool of himself.  

“Six!”  

Slap!

“Seven!”  

He can’t help himself from hoping that this won't be a one-time occurrence. For a few stolen moments you can hand over control to him and give the both of you what you need.  

“Eight!” Your stomach rubs against his cock once more and he chokes back a moan. You'll be the death of him. Ruin him entirely. It isn’t enough that he loves you, isn’t enough that you are the most beautiful person he could dream up, no you have to do things like this. Unintentionally ideal. Perfection given human form.  

“Nine!”  

His hand comes down one final time and you scream out a broken, “Ten!”, and Jaskier heaves out a sigh, rubbing the red skin as gently as he can to soothe you when you begin to tremble. Calloused fingertips slide softly across the abused flesh.  

“Oh Darling. My good girl. My good, brave little miss.” He coos sweetly, gently guiding you up to sit on his lap, one hand still running the skin while the other threads itself in the hair at the nape of your neck. “You did so well.” Gently, he presses his forehead against your own, staring into tear filled eyes. “Oh, Dear Heart, did you not like it?” Worry washes over him suddenly. He should have reminded you that you could say no once more, that he wouldn’t be disappointed.  

“Kiss me.” You breathe back against his lips and he sighs softly, hand shifting to your jaw to tug you into a chaste kiss. You tremble against his lap, but kiss back far more forcefully than he had kissed you. Gentle but seeking, tongue pushing between his lips to make its way into his mouth. He smirks slightly, but doesn’t open his mouth, feeling you rock against his lap- sweet nectar between your legs dripping through the fabric of his trousers while shaking fingers toy with the lacing of his doublet.  

“Darling-"  

“You're wearing far too much.” You whine pulling back to stare at him. “Take it off.”  

“Take what off?”  

“Everything.” One word has never held so much weight. He could look at you like this for always, so soft and desperate and wanting- it makes his heart beat faster and his cock jumps against the heat of your core. He wants to strip himself, rid himself of the offensive articles and just let you take from him all that he has, but he holds your jaw gently instead, using the warm skin as a means to ground himself once more.  

“Ask nicely.”  

“Jaskier.” You say with a slight scowl, but he narrows his eyes and tilts his head, trying not to laugh at your intent look. “Please. Please strip.”  

“I think you can ask nicer than that, Dear Heart.”  

“Julian, please take off your clothes. Please.” You ask softly and trail your hands along the chemise beneath his half-unlaced jerkin. “Please, Dandy? I want to touch you- can I?”  

The pet name brings a soft smile to his face, hands moving to your hips to shift you onto the bed before undoing the rest of his jacket and shucking it off, to toss it to the side. Ducking down, he peppers a few feverish kisses to your thighs, toying with the ties of his chemise while you tug it over his head. Needy and half frenzied is unlike you, but he can’t say that it isn’t perfection. Shy, unsure sex has been too common, the occasional rushed shag when you two can spare a few seconds less frequent, but this magically manic need is sweet. Jaskier is a performer; performers preen under the watchful eye of attentive audience, need the knowledge of a job well done, which he normally gets from you in the form of moans and frantic rutting. This enthusiasm is perfection, especially while his face is so close to your cunt that he can smell the arousal dripping from it.

Nudity can wait, The Bard smirks, grips your thighs in a vice-like grip and widens the distance between them so he can get his mouth on your sex, tongue gathering slick and relishing that sweet, musky taste. Sweeter than any fruit, more addictive than any wine. Jaskier’s lips find your clit, that bud of nerves that might as well contain every breathless moan that you can fit in your body, and sucks, tongue flicking across it with the moans and curses that such an act wrings from you. Nose buried in the curls that cover your mount, cornflower eyes look up to take you in, writhing in ecstasy, breasts quivering with every stuttered breath. He knew that he had missed something while spanking you’d but it falls into place now. Your face.

Every emotion flit across it, as clear to read as sheet music to him. You have an expressive face at the best of times, but it only seems heightened by sex. He knows many men prefer not to face their lovers and, hell, in his more adventurous days had preferred it himself, but seeing how you feel written across your features is part of the joy of sex. It had taken a while to convince you to stop silencing yourself during intimacy, that those moans are his and hard earned, but those expressions mean even more. Miniscule twitches of the brows and lips that let him know that you enjoy what he is doing, he loves them. Loves you. Those noises are meaningless without that face, pink and contorted with pleasure. That face. He could stare at it all day.

He doesn’t miss Lettenhove, not for a minute, but he does miss paintings. Portraits, moments trapped in time, forever perfect. He wants a painting of moments like this; nothing pornographic, just your face, with not a care for anything but pleasure. To see him through those nights when hunting takes too long and he's long asleep by the time you return. A little painting to have with him always.  

“Jaskier-" You whimper, fingers curled into his hair and tugging. “Please. Please.”  

He hums softly and slaps your thigh, revelling in the sweet little gasp that comes from you before a gush of fluid hits his lips. The Bard pulls back and blinks in shock. You’re shaking, twisting in the blankets as he just breathes you in. Squirted. You just squirted on him. He was half convinced that such a thing was just A rumour but... you did it.  

Blinking rapidly, Jaskier stares up at you awestruck and starry-eyed, trying desperately not to spill into his trousers.  

Oh yes. This is going to be a regular occurrence.  

[tarithenurse]

Skinny Dipping - Challenge

Pairing: Thor x fem!reader Contents: The title gives some away...but not all. Expect: pining, bit of insecurity, incredulity, some nudity and sexual details, mostly hinting at smutty thoughts, implied smut. Probably some grammar/spelling/writing errors too. A/N: This is my contribution to wonderful @firefly-in-darkness​‘ Summer Challenge using the prompt “Skinny Dipping”. Technically not due ‘til the 2nd of September, but maaaan, it’s impossible to tell when the summer really is in this wet country. Was it last week when we had 15-20 degrees celcius? Is it a month from now? Or maybe we’ll have a heatwave in October. Who knows?! I don’t, so let’s create our own summer right now.

Skinny Dipping

...  Reader   ...

The buzzing of insects is overwhelming, at night the cicadas are the worst, and the only moment where there seems to be some sort of silence is in the middle of the day when the sun is at its highest, burning down on the already scorched grass. Not even the trees can grant much relief from the rays as the leaves have started shrivelling up after weeks and weeks of no rain.

“Why did...I...agree to this?!”

Your voice is raspy, dry from the exertion of running and the dust that’s constantly picked up with the lightest breeze or disturbance. At least you brought plenty of water – it’s just not enough to soothe the sensation of getting the liquids slowly squeezed out of you by an invisible force. You’re not wearing much (shorts and a tank top over your sports bra) but it’s too much and you’re soaked.

“I have faith in your prowess, my friend,” Thor smiles back to you.

The Asgardian is leisurely jogging a few meters up ahead, apparently unbothered by the extreme conditions and unknowingly adding to the frustration bubbling inside. Still it’s the sight of him that keeps you moving because the man really is endearing when he cheers you on and – oh boy – the look of him is enough to keep anyone moving: shirtless, his skin has tanned to contrast the rose golden hair and beard, and even if he isn’t worn out like you, the man still has pearls of sweat running down the perfectly sculpted muscles. Not that you ever would admit to thirsting for him.

Never going running with an Enhanced or whatever again!

Somehow – at the moment you can’t recall how – Thor had cajoled the you to follow him along a new path. A long path. You are used to running with Sam: together with Clint the three of you make up the completely human core of the Avengers while everyone else has something amazing going on. Well...maybe not Tony, but he refuses to go jogging like this. Smart man.

Pulling out a water bottle for the umpteenth time, it’s a brief relief to feel the lukewarm liquid running down your throat (both inside and outside) and one you make sure to use while you can.

“Tho-o-or,” you moan with a pout, “can’t you...like...make it rain or som’thin’?”

“That is not in my power, little one,” he laughs, smiling almost as brightly as the sun, “I can brew up thunder and lightning, yet the rain is not within my realm of command. But fret not, there is a stream not far ahead.”

...  Thor  ...

The air hangs heavily even here in the shadows of the only green vegetation left for miles. He has slowed to a walk, allowing [Y/N] to spare herself a bit, but now finds that her scent is filling his lungs and clouding his mind with the sweetness of her sweat and the saltiness of her breath...or is it the other way around? The words he had picked carefully days ago are gone. Dried up like the drops of water that had run from her lips, along the neck, over the collarbone before delving between her breasts and disappearing with his courage.

“Oh, Thor!” Her revitalized cry shakes the God back to reality and he finds that they have arrived at the once thundering river – the drought has reduced it to a lazy flow. “It looks so...so...yay!”

Hurrying to the river bank, she quickly sheds backpack, shoes and sock before wading out into the shallows where the stones are rounded from centuries of streaming water. He can see the rush of goosebumps spreading along her limbs.

“I’m glad you approve of this place for a few minutes of rest.”

“Few?!” Water splashes as she spins to confront him. “I’m not getting out ‘ntil I’m cooled down, sir! In fact -” Thor holds his breath as sparkles of mischievousness adorns her eyes –”I’m gonna enjoy this to the fullest.”

Nimble hands start to pull the top she’s wearing off. Thor’s gaze becomes fixed on the bared skin of her belly even as the abandoned fabric lands by his feet and his throat instantaneously dries when she reaches for the clasps of her intimates. I shan’t. Forcing himself to turn away, every instinct is trying to fight Thor’s upbringing each time a discarded clothing item flies past him.

One.

Two.

Three.

He shivers when realizing nothing can be left, the waves of excitement planting themselves in his groin to grow rapidly. A splash. A sigh – one he echoes unwillingly due to the images the sound conjures up.

“You’re just gonna stand and fry in the sun?”

“I...maybe you...” Why is this so hard? “It would be a shame to impose.”

“It’d be a shame to miss out on this, Thor.”

And I do not want to miss a thing. Like a siren’s call, she draws him in with simple orders sent skidding across the water’s surface from where [Y/N] has lowered all but her head below water. Clear eyes never leave his face as the Asgardian, self-conscious for once, frees himself from the restraints of his clothing and wades into the water. A shiver runs through his body as his sac meets the cool, clear stream before lapping around the entirety of his manhood.

“Ahhhhhh!” Thor sighs with delight, lost to the surroundings the moment he submerges to the neck.

Sweat and dust is lifted from the body, leaving him re-freshened, and he understands [Y/N]’s stubborn joy.

A small splash behind him indicates where she is. “Not bad, eh?”

“It is truly wondrous...” Still, it could be better. The thought throbs through his cock with a will of its own. “I...is this a normal custom for Midgardians?”

There’s a pause in her movements through the water and it’s as though the air stands still, like the world is holding its breath. “I think it might depend on where...different cultures you know.” She inhales deeply. “Here it’s generally not something anyone would do with random people or...or even...friends unless they’re...” The awkward tone in her voice dies as she tapers off into a groan.

Yet here we are. “Then I will not bring any shame on you.”

When there’s no answer, Thor peeps over his shoulder to see what’s going on only to find that [Y/N] has submerged fully. And stays submerged. Puzzlement grows into worry, and in a few swimming strokes the god hurries to her, carefully aiming through the blurring water for the woman’s arms and lifting her to breach the surface, making her splutter at the shock.

“[Y/N]?”

Still coughing, [Y/N] doesn’t pull away from him, not even as he brings her a bit closer to support her through the fit. Her skin...she is... Subtle, cooled by the water, and carrying a scent unlike any other her body leans back to fit against his chest, curve of her ass positioning perfectly against his pelvis to allow the cock to nestle between the butt cheeks – it isn’t until a tiny sigh slips between her lips that Thor realizes what he is doing but by then she’s already reached behind her to pull him closer.

...  Reader  ...

It’s a dream. Gotta be a dream. I probably drowned when I swallowed that water and now I’m dead and in some sort of heaven. The only problem with your theory is how strikingly real it all feels: Thor’s body (and certain parts thereof) are pressing hard and warm against you, his hands drifting from your shoulders to let him wrap his arms around your chest. Muscles bunch, cocooning and tempting, under the tanned skin.

“If you tell me no,” you whisper, too afraid of that to happen, “then I’ll stop.”

“And if you accept my yes,” the deep voice is husky as he nibbles at your ear, “then know you have all of me for as long as you wish. I’ll be yours.”

Maybe your heart just stopped beating. It doesn’t really matter because these seconds would be enough to fill you a lifetime. “Yes, please.” Twisting slightly in his arms, your lips finally brush against his and his stubble prickles teasingly. “That sounds perfect.”

Next second, his mouth kick starts your heart but steals your breath away.

[akatsukitobi]

ASCHWARTZ33'S 2020 YEAR IN REVIEW

I have seen a lot of artists posting "year in review" posts, and while I haven't seen any writers doing it... I was curious. So here it is! My writing year in review! Longer fics will be posted when I started them, as opposed to the last completed chapter.

January 2020

Easier To Run - Kakashi/Tenzo/Shisui

Rating: E, Violence, Rape, Underage. Ch: 16/16, WC: 54,697. Additional tags: modern au, child abuse, high school au, consensual smut in later chapters.

Summary: Tenzo lives a miserable life, with an abusive guardian, and no friends.. until he draws the attention of two teenagers from his high school. What will they do when they find out his secret?

Dehumanized - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, Violence, Rape, Underage. Ch: 8/?, WC: 33,011. Additional tags: depression, PTSD, suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending.

Summary: Kakashi and Tenzo's mission goes horribly wrong, and they are left to try to heal during the aftermath.

Blue On Black - Kakashi/Tenzo/Iruka

Rating: E, violence. Ch: 11/? HIATUS, WC: 41,546. Additional tags: mentions of assault, modern au, abusive past relationship, mentions of past rape, stalking, boxing au.

Summary: Iruka has finally managed to separate himself from his abusive boyfriend. He has nowhere to go until two mysterious and sexy boxers pick him up in a bar.

February 2020

I'm Not Okay I Promise - Kakashi/Iruka

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 5/5, WC: 26,798. Additional tags: age regression, smut, asexual character

Summary: Kakashi gets himself turned into a baby on an Anbu mission, and Iruka is assigned to take care of him.

MARCH 2020

Socks and Shenanigans - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: M, no archive warnings apply. CH: 1/1, WC: 968. Additional tags: 30 minute fic.

Summary: Kakashi has lucky socks... and Tenzo is confused.

Spread Your Wings - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 2/2, WC: 10,847. Additional tags: fantasy au, fluff and smut, fairies.

Summary: Kakashi is lost in the forest when he comes across a deserted cottage. At least he THOUGHT it was deserted.

Complete Me - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 1,509. Additional tags: Anbu era.

Summary: Kakashi comes home from a mission feeling like a monster, and Tenzo helps him feel human again.

Protect Me - Shisui/Tenzo

Rating: T, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 810. Additional tags: domestic fluff.

Summary: Shisui is on his way home when he spots his boyfriend struggling to make it back to the village.

Accept Me - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: G, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 1,288. Additional tags: family fluff.

Summary: Kakashi brings his boyfriend home to meet his father.

Comfort Me - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: G, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 2,070. Additional tags: roommates.

Summary: Kakashi's apartment is destroyed (definitely NOT his fault), and Tenzo offers him a place to stay.

Persuade Me - Kakashi/Minato

Rating: T, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 1,109. Additional tags: anbu era.

Summary: The village has created an update for the Anbu masks the ninja wear... but Kakashi simply refuses.

Sweet Child O Mine - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: T, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 5,550. Additional tags: age regression.

Summary: Tenzo and Kakashi are on a mission when Kakashi is turned back into a child. Tenzo takes the opportunity to pick on his captain for once.

In Too Deep - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 4,982. Additional tags: sexy jutsu, smut.

Summary: Tenzo becomes jealous as every woman in the village drags Kakashi away. He hatches a plan for revenge.

Like Nobody's Watching - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: G, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 681. Additional tags: dancing, fluff, boyfriends.

Summary: Tenzo likes to dance when nobody is around... and what else is there to do when he is on guard rotation for the Hokage?

April 2020

Break My Fall - Kakashi/Tenzo/Shisui

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 6,119. Additional tags: anbu era, stress relief, smut.

Summary: Kakashi keeps training himself to exhaustion, and his teammates are determined to find out why.

May 2020

Heat of The Moment - Iruka/Tenzo

Rating: T, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 1,479. Additional tags: modern au, heat wave, strangers to lovers.

Summary: overworked Tenzo is stuck at work after hours during a heatwave. Naturally, when he finally gets to go home, the power goes out!

Learning Things The Hard Way - Kakashi/Shisui

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 2,974. Additional tags: teacher/student relationship, consensual sex.

Summary: Shisui thinks college sucks... until he catches a glimpse of his new professor.

Captain Minato's Revenge - Kakashi/Minato

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 3,630. Additional tags: pirate au, smut.

Summary: The crew of The Flying Thunder God have only three rules to follow. When Kakashi breaks one, Captain Minato punishes him as he sees fit.

When Two Are One - Shisui/Tenzo

Rating: T, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 5,377. Additional tags: fluff, no smut.

Summary: soulmate au where everyone is colorblind until they come into contact with their soulmate.

Not Strong Enough - Kakashi/Tenzo/Shisui

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 2/2, WC: 15,279. Additional tags: A/B/O, poly, smut.

Summary: The Uchihas are demanding a political marriage and bonding between one of their omegas and a member of Konoha's elite. Fugaku insists it must be Kakashi.

Shipwrecked - Kakashi/Obito/Tobi (Naruto)

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 8,333. Additional tags: pirate au, poly, smut, incest.

Summary: When The Flying Thunder God sails to meet up with their sister ship, The Akatsuki, things go terribly when Obito and Tobi are constantly fighting with each other.

Seize The Day - Kakashi/Shisui, Obito/Tenzo

Rating: T, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 2/2, WC: 8,992. Additional tags: time travel fix-it.

Summary: Kakashi accidentally gets sent back in time. Will he stay and help save people from his past? Or will he find a way to return where he belongs?

Hidden Away - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 3,725. Additional tags: modern au, public sex, friends to lovers.

Summary: Kakashi and Tenzo are lawyers out at a work dinner, when the restaurant is a victim of armed robbery while both men are in the bathroom!

The Way You Make Me Feel - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: M, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 2,615. Additional tags: awkward dates.

Summary: Kakashi and Tenzo finally attempt to go on a date after the fourth shinobi war is over... only to be interrupted by team 7.

Paralyzer - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 4,951. Additional tags: modern au, halloween, piercings, smut.

Summary: Tenzo lets Sai drag him out to the club on Halloween, and runs into far too many of his co-workers.

Coming Undone - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 5,226. Additional tags: pirate au, massages, fluff and smut.

Summary: Tenzo is overworked, and Kakashi convinces the crew to give him a much deserved break.

Welcome Home - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: G, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 4,966. Additional tags: pack family, parent Kakashi.

Summary: Tenzo is pulled from Anbu to cover for an injured Kakashi, and is reminded of something he lost a long time ago.

We've Got Tonight - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 3,251. Additional tags: smut, angst, fluff.

Summary: soulmate au - when you turn 18, your internal clock is put on pause if your soulmate is younger than you.

Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time - Kakashi/Obito

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 3,453. Additional tags: modern au, crossdressing, fluff and smut.

Summary: Obito loses a bet, and has to wear whatever outfit Kakashi chooses for his shift at Minato's club.

Wasted Moments - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 5/?, WC: 14,437. Additional tags: modern au.

Summary: Tenzo studies hard for college, and doesn't have much time for friends. So why is it that his drunk neighbor keeps breaking into his apartment to sleep on his couch?

June 2020

Sweet Dreams - Kakashi & Obito

Rating: G, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 722. Additional tags: pirate au, kid kakashi, fluff.

Summary: Obito awakens his sharingan and Kakashi worries about him.

Under My Skin - Kakashi/Iruka

Rating: T, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 2,372. Additional tags: depression, happy ending.

Summary: soulmates have tattoos that represent each other.

Finding Mitsuki - Iruka/Tenzo

Rating: G, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1. WC: 2,973. Additional tags: fluff.

Summary: Tenzo rescues a child from Orochimary's hideout, and Naruto thinks it's funny to place him in Tenzo's care.

July 2020

Bound By Duty - Tenzo/Sai

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 7,222. Additional tags: pirate au, shibari.

Summary: the crew of The Flying Thunder God raid an enemy ship, only to find a mysterious captive on board!

Dressed To Impress - Kakashi/Tenzo/Shisui

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 3,198. Additional tags: pirate au, crossdressing, poly.

Summary: after raiding a ship of traveling actors, a new wardrobe presents interesting opportunities for the crew.

Helping Hands - Itachi/Obito/Shisui

Rating: E, underage. Ch: 1/1, WC: 5,565. Additional tags: incest, pirate au, smut, poly.

Summary: Itachi asks for help before moving forward in his relationship with Kisame.

Out Of Touch - Kakashi/Obito, Tenzo/Shisui.

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 5,912. Additional tags: vampires and werewolves, modern au, smut.

Summary: supernatural beings and humans have lived in harmony for nearly 20 years. So who could blame Kakashi for having his fun when an out of touch vampire stumbles across him in the forest?

August 2020

Somewhere I Belong - Kakashi/Tenzo/Tobirama

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 8/8, WC: 26,840. Additional tags: slow burn, poly, time travel.

Summary: Kakashi and Tenzo are accidentally sent back in time, and are forced to assimilate to a time when Konoha has just been founded.

3 For The Price Of 1 - Kakashi/Tenzo

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 3,693. Additional tags: shadow clones, smut, established relationship.

Summary: Kakashi indulges Tenzo with a bit of birthday sex.

Can't Get You Out Of My Head - Kakashi/Tobirama

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 3,509. Additional tags: post war, office sex.

Summary: Kakashi has been teasing him all day, and finally, Tobirama can't hold himself back anymore.

As I Am - Kakashi & Tenzo

Rating: M, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 2,852. Additional tags: asexual character, 5+1 things.

Summary: 5 times Tenzo felt out of place, and 1 time he didn't.

September 2020

By The Light Of The Moon - Kakashi/Obito, Tenzo/Shisui, Tobirama/Madara

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 5/5, WC: 14,031. Additional tags: shifter au, everyone is alive.

Summary: after the founding of Konoha, clans are coming together to live in harmony. Tobirama, Kakashi, and Tenzo find their pack.

Anger Management - Kakashi/Tobirama

Rating: G, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 1,096. Additional tags: jutsu gone wrong.

Summary: after an accident in the lab, Tobirama needs his boyfriend to help him control his anger.

Transcendence - Kakashi/Shisui

Rating: M, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 6/8, WC: 9,085. Additional tags: anbu era, guardian angel.

Summary: Anbu captain Kakashi finds himself being followed by a winged stranger claiming to be an Uchiha. Tenzo thinks he's crazy. Kakashi isn't so sure anymore either.

October 2020

A Pirate's Kinktober - about a million pairings including Kakashi, Minato, Obito, Tenzo, Gai, Sai, Shisui, Tobi (naruto), Yahiko.

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 31/31, WC: 39,775. Additional tags: pirate au, numerous sexual tags detailed at the start of each chapter, poly smut.

Summary: short smutty one-shots written in my pirate au to celebrate kinktober.

December 2020

With You - Madara/Tobirama

Rating: E, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 1/1, WC: 5,266. Additional tags: modern au, smut.

Summary: Tobirama has trouble coming up with the perfect secret Santa gift for his long time crush.

Turn The Page - Kakashi/Obito, Kakashi & Jiraiya

Rating: T, no archive warnings apply. Ch: 2/3, WC: 4,995. Additional tags: kid Kakashi, adoption.

Summary: jiraiya finds out that Kakashi has been left alone, and intervenes to change the course of Kakashi's life forever.

Wow! This post is probably unnecessary, but I went ahead and spent a good 4 hours making it anyway! 🤣

[writethehousedown]

get my heart attached to you ( trinity centered, multi ) - Lily

summary: trinity and monique are close teammates who play for the same football team abroad, while training for their next game they can't help but think about other things. [ title from “when I think of you” by janet jackson, for the prompt “heat” ]

author's note: me being a sports gay will never fucking die huh. wallah, had to write a lil something because I have enjoyed reading the various fics that have been churned out! I am also intensely spreading trinity/sports gay propaganda always !! I liked their volleys and personalities together on all stars, hope it's decent <3 trintox, momo and vanique are the ships in this: I barely write monique or vanessa but damn I love monique. worth the shot!

— *.✧

The heatwave in Barcelona was utterly immeasurable.

Monique wanted to gag.

She knew that being a professional athlete especially for a sport so cardio driven as football meant she'd have to dull out the extreme heat in order to play at most locations however, this seemed inhumane.

Football was always going to be riddled with money, complications and referees. It was simply the name of the game and had been since they both began to train at their individual academies at a young age.

Years and years of playing the sport and her absolute least favourite location to play in was Spain.

She'd been contracted to Tottenham for almost five seasons now; she preferred the grey and rainy skies of England to the absolute pit of hell that was the Iberian peninsula.

"You're not even phased by all this?" She asked Trinity who shrugged, her blue and white cleats dribbling her almost deflated football between the points of her feet.

"It's for the Champions League, I don't care if I pass out, I wanna win those points against Barcelona tomorrow."

"Girl you stay determined, I admire that."

The Floridan also felt right as if she was at home. The only difference being the humidity and mugginess.

Orlando is just as awful, it feels like my childhood all over again.

The brunette tied her hair back into a bun as she tossed her fellow teammate a new, cold water bottle.

"Drink before you pass out, you're sweating like a sinner in church."

Monique rolled her eyes though she immediately grabbed the water, barreling down as if they had been stuck in the Sahara.

She laid on the turf, Trinity grabbing her legs as she began to stretch her out.

"God you're tense," she mumbled before she continued on, "You need to stretch more especially since you're a striker and we need them powerful legs of yours."

"Thank you captain!"

Trinity flinched, it felt a bit odd to be singled out as a captain for the team. Monique found it quite odd; she was one of the most humble and determined players in the entire sport.

She had proven time and time again her loyalty, she'd never understand how Trinity didn't think she deserved her current position.

"Be all shy and cute for the cameras but you know deep down that you deserve to be running this team and wearing that armband," she inquired as she heard Trinity mumble something under her breath.

"Girl I don't know, I'm just trying to win, I don't need any extra pressure from any kind of media or fans," the brunette insisted as she juggled the ball, kicking her knees up.

Monique cocked a brow as she realized it would probably be better to say nothing. She quickly joined Trinity and practiced her own dribbling skills with the various balls that laid across the training field.

The forward player prayed that nothing about her behaviour was too off to Monique.

Nothing about playing a game made her nervous, in fact it calmed her down a bit, it was a distraction from her current thoughts.

There was however, an extremely different kind of heat that came to mind when Trinity heard their next bracket matchup for the Champions League was going to be against Barcelona.

Her face must've cracked the moment she heard Barcelona would be one of their three group rivals for the tournament.

She remembered distinctly how their team watched the group drawing happen from their training building in London and aimlessly waved their hands around knowing the draw was in their favour besides FC Barcelona being pulled.

Well shit.

Trinity sighed heavily, loud enough for some of her teammates to question why she felt so downtrodden against playing Barcelona.

She knew that was an entirely different story she couldn't speak on or delve into it; it felt too wrong and far too misplaced.

Monique snapped her back to reality as she asked if Trinity wanted to take a few laps with her around the field.

"Might as well make use of the time we have," the Missouri native hummed, "I know coach is probably gonna make us work with the goalie soon let's be real."

The brunette agreed, a fake and plastered smirk across her face as they headed towards the track.

A distraction was what she needed surely especially the day before the big, first match up of their group stages.

"Anyone in particular you wanna destroy tomorrow, purely for fun?" Monique asked, gently nudging her fellow teammate as Trinity felt her entire head explode at the question.

"Nicky and Detox are both forwards so guess I have to pick between them," Trinity commented as Monique laughed aloud, the two of them both picking up speed.

She felt herself remember everything from almost a month ago—she remembered back in London when they had invited Barcelona for a simple friendly game, nothing too special.

Yet somehow, things managed to gravitate towards the worst.

***

Trinity couldn't remember exactly why and how she had managed to slip in Detox to her hotel room after the game ended but she almost didn't want to know.

The incessant staring after forty five minutes had ceased; the occasional sharp tongued and witty comebacks to each other's insults, the not-so-accidental touching that occurred.

Well—as accidental as it could be still being utterly weary of the dreaded yellow and red cards.

She wasn't sure how it started but she was determined to keep it going. It made her heart feel some kind of way, whether extremely turned on or anxious she couldn't tell you the difference.

The heat was real, it had been for awhile though neither of them knew how to feel about the situation.

Two cups of wine and they both managed to build up liquid courage enough to make a move or some kind of statement.

They kissed passionately, the blonde immediately grabbed the other woman and pulled her towards her lap. Both of them far too lazy to move off the couch.

They made out with nothing but drive, as if they somehow had been begging for each other's company and touch this entire time.

Their lips met, Detox smirked, nothing but a snarky comment about how she could taste the sports drink flavouring that stained Trinity's lip.

"God shut up, we've only been kissing a few minutes and you're already infuriating."

"You're acting like I meant it as a bad thing baby," the blonde commented softly as she cupped both of her hands around her opponent's cheeks.

The moment their skin touched so softly was when Trinity panicked. She didn't know if she could handle a true, genuine connection to her own competition.

"You're my rival you know," Trinity slipped out as Detox blinked, almost impressed that the brunette managed to state the obvious so innocently.

"I know," the Barcelona forward laughed, her lips outlined the other woman's jaw. Her hands gently slid across her waist, a tight grip on her hips as she spoke once again.

"It makes this twice more fun, it's a thrilling experience for the both of us."

How idiotic.

Two competitors and athletes on different ends of the spectrum once again seemed to follow that delusional, charming fantasy.

They both knew the utter amount of backlash that would appear if anyone ever even saw them together in any kind of romantic light.

All of this and yet Trinity let the kissing ensue for longer and longer.

Every passing minute grew into a bigger ball of heat. The two took turns stripping their dirty, sweaty jerseys and uniforms off each other piece by piece. It was one of the most gratifying moments of Trinity's entire life.

If Trinity had known that all she wanted was some blonde to come and destroy her frivolously she would've asked much earlier in their careers.

"Do you actually want this or am I just the lucky one for tonight?"

Trinity dug her nails into Detox's shoulder, angered that she had suggested this entire thing being just a spur, no irony there, of the moment joke.

"I want you, I certainly won't if you keep talking however."

Detox grinned as she licked her lips, eyeing the brunette up and down, she noticed Trinity's cheeks begin to flush.

"That we can accomplish," the blonde whispered as her fingertips traced the football player's bare chest.

"Then get to it."

"Bossy. You're just as controlling here as you are on the field."

Trinity began to grow tired of the small talk, their lips drew together shamelessly; nothing short of fireworks seemed to blow out of the pits of the brunette's stomach.

It felt so wrong and yet, it still seemed like the most right decision she had ever made.

***

Trinity had never been so thankful for such unforgiving heat. She could excuse all the sweat and unforgiving memories as simply effects from the typical Barcelona climate.

"Can I ask you about something?"

Monique's question seemed light-hearted enough though the forward nodded nervously, praying to every religion that her fellow teammate hadn't managed to put together the puzzle pieces.

"Go ahead," she replied nonchalantly, shrugging even if her heart seemed to pace at an irregular beat, her nerves completely heightened.

"Girl, I don't know if it's the heat or what but I'm feeling some type of way about Miss Vanessa."

Oh thank God.

"Mateo? The transfer?"

Vanessa had been their winter loan of the season, she was quite a good defender for someone of her size. She had the most irreplaceable energy and attitude.

"Yeah," Monique said, stretching out the word as long as possible. The brunette could hear her voice go up the octave as she began to speak on how Vanessa had asked her out yesterday.

"Oh damn," Trinity laughed, impressed that the Puerto Rican clearly even after just a week was completely on a mission to take her friend on a date.

"Bitch good for you, she's nice enough and very funny, I feel like you'd enjoy yourselves."

Monique gave a small smile as she sighed, pushing the long hair from her face as she insisted that somehow it wouldn't feel right after her breakup with Monét.

"Oh so you're scared to move on is what I'm hearing."

"No, no, those are lies!" The statement must've struck a deep chord within the other woman, her entire expression seemed to tense up.

"You broke up only a month ago, it's okay to still be thinking about it, no one is making you feel ashamed about it."

Monique crossed her arms, now regretting this conversation topic.

She knew deep in her heart some of those feelings were still locked away even a month later but she wasn't going to let anyone get the satisfaction of finding that out.

"Okay, let's say that's why, which it isn't," Monique began as she pointed a finger towards her friend, the two of them still running aimlessly around the field. "What do you think?"

Trinity was in absolutely no place to give consolidating relationship advice considering her current situation however, she knew Vanessa was certainly worth a shot.

"Go for it, if you think she's gonna be good fun then take a chance."

"She's so pretty," Monique groaned as she glared out of the corner of her eye, watching as Vanessa practiced drills with their club's goalie. "I think I'm gonna say yes when we're alone."

Trinity smiled, happy that Monique had some semblance of getting over her last relationship. Monét was lovely, a very great teammate.

She remembered the shock they had both felt as they tied with the UEFA Player of the Year award.

Trinity would've rather Monét simply won than have to share the trophy; the snarky comments and blatant hatred of the results had truly pushed them both to become better friends.

It was a bonding experience to scroll through each other's social media and giggle along at comments while half way tipsy in another country.

She was still a bit surprised they had broken up. Nothing seemed to be outwardly wrong though Trinity wasn't Monique, she couldn't grasp every interaction or moment simply by asking.

"Go for it."

"Speaking of going for it," the other woman said, once again flipping around the conversation topic to whatever she desired. "How about you Miss Taylor, I'm shocked she's still on the market!"

The brunette felt chills run down her spine, she in general hated any conversation about relationships but considering all of the things that had been going on with Detox, it felt almost wrong to speak on it.

"She's a busy and focused woman," Trinity replied, "I'm not gonna get into a relationship right now, too many things going on." She adjusted her hair as she felt Monique shake her vigorously.

"Please let me set you up, there is no way that there isn't at least one person or another who catches your eye."

Well, she's not wrong there…

"No matchmaking. Maybe after we win the Champions League though."

Monique sighed in defeat, "I'm always here."

"I know, thank fuck for that," Trinity grumbled as the two hugged. Moments like these always seemed to distract from their giant bubble that revolved around their sport.

"We'll find a perfect woman for you someday or another."

Girl if you already knew.

Trinity grinned, "Yeah, maybe one day."

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

First Sentence Writing Meme

Ooooo, something new! Thank you for tagging me @mel-loves-all - I love these kind of games.

The Rules: write the first sentence of the last ten stories you’ve written and look for patterns. Then tag some friends.

The Secret of Salvation - (WW I AU, based on War Horse) “Jamie…darling…”  Her voice was light, lilting, soft, as she tried to summon him from sleep–-though he remained a silent lump anyway, snug beneath their eiderdown.

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight - (Stephen Strange/OFC) “Stephen, it’s nearly time.”  Wong’s voice pulled him from his scrutiny of the thick, weathered tome that had become latest project.

Whiskey Kisses - (unpublished WIP) “Honestly, Moira, I’m just not up for this tonight.”  Rosalind ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it in frustration, while drawing a long, deep breath.  Despite her protestation, she knew her objection was bound to be overridden.

Shadow Dancing - (Stephen Strange/Reader)  Frustration.  Uselessness.  Shame.  Each feeling overwhelmed you in turn, as you tried to put the day behind you, while seeking the solace that only sleep might offer--if you got lucky enough not to dream your spectacular failure again and again through the night.

 A Strange Slice of the Big Apple... - (Stephen Strange/Reader)  For the youth of Kamar-Taj, life was never all study and drills, rigorous exercise and strict discipline.  The wisdom of many Masters had long recognized that the young ones needed time away from their studies, time to relax, time to play.

Stranger Things Have Happened...Haven’t They? - (Cloak of Levitation POV)  Cloak had lived through countless eons, and had patiently endured the touch of innumerable suitors, her purpose—beyond the necessary work of protecting infinite realities from chaos and violence–always to find the One. The One she had been made for, the One who would finally couple with her, allowing her to fulfill her truest destiny.

A Khan By Any Other Name - (STID Khan/OFC) Her first mistake had been slowing down to have a second look.  Three plus years with a vintage car enthusiast (her ex now, thank god; three months gone and good riddance to him, her mantra whenever he crossed her mind) had ingrained the habit in her.  The habit, frankly, plus an appreciative eye for the sweetest of rides.

The One That Got Away - (RPF WIP, romance,angst)  She kept telling herself she only had to hold it together for four more nights.  Four more excruciating nights.  She’d finally stumbled to her bed from her tear-stained kitchen floor, able to fall asleep at last only out of sheer exhaustion.  She dreaded to think what she would look like when she arose, but at least there was stage make-up to cover the worst of the puffed eyes and dark circles that would give her away to the world.  Of course, he would see and he would know, even if everyone around them remained oblivious.  She swore if she saw pity in his eyes when next they met, she would likely melt into the floorboards out of sheer humiliation.

In the Eye of the Beholder - (Richard III, youth & teenage years)  He’d grown like a weed in his father’s house.  Frowned upon. Unattended.  Unloved.  That was his mother’s doing, for not only did she consider him a curse upon his noble line, and some sort of punishment upon her personally, she inculcated that attitude in most of the servants.  From the stables to the scullery, from the dining hall unto the highest parapet–even in the privacy of his cold, meager room–Richard knew that many of them made the warding gesture of forked fingers as he passed by.

Burn Bright, That Brief Candle - (Victorianlock; Sherlock/OFC)  They managed to reach the shelter of 221B, alighting from the hansom cab only moments before the sky opened up in full.  Warm, fat raindrops and the peels of distant thunder had forewarned them that London was finally going to receive much-needed rainfall, as nearly every denizen of the city—anxious for relief from the week-long, oppressive heatwave—had been praying.  Sherlock, of course, was not among those offering such desperate pleas heavenward, but he would be relieved to see the dust and grit that permeated the air, and that had settled thick upon his city, to be finally washed into the gutters, sluiced into the Thames, and carried out to sea.

Okay, so first...yes, I cheated, by including several sentences in most cases, rather than just the one.  I think it shows my pattern to be one of trying to hook the reader with a bit of mystery--the first sentences meant to make the reader question enough to want to read the whole paragraph, in order to learn the why and the what and the who of it.

Second--and quite sadly--most of these are incomplete WIPs, some of which I haven’t updated in more than a year.  I’m not so much ashamed of this fact, as acknowledging how very slow I work; I hate leaving my characters dangling, especially as I know the end of the stories, I just haven’t had the time/inspiration sufficient to finish them.  The spirit is oh-so-willing, in all these cases, but my flesh is frail, weak, and easily sidetracked. Someday, though, I hope; someday, though, I pray.

TAGGING:  @garuda-dreams-of-rain @thehiddenlawyer @losille2000 @cinderella1181 @ben-c-group-therapy @randombiochemist @softestdudebro @letterstosherlock @tallulah99 and anyone else who would like to play along

[keporkak]

koi’ve decided to write a little diary here again, since 1. i need to practice my english 2. i really need to declutter my brain 3. i miss being able to remember little day to day things, and revisiting my thoughts even years later. so here goes - this is i suppose kinda private, but not really, it IS on a public tumblr - however one that nobody visits much (hello arlet!)

so this is a ramble about my new job, a long bit about my plants and my garden.

i’ve been at this new office job (scoff!! why, again?) for 2 weeks and i’m not sure i’ll last more than a month. after the whole quarantine thing, i realised how much i love just... not having to wake up in the morning when i’m least functional, getting ready (i hate how much effort i have to put into my appearance. i know i dont HAVE to, but I feel like once you set a standard at a new workplace you kinda... can’t go below it without people actively noticing it), and taking 40 minutes by buses to get there. this was supposed to be a remote job!! and i don’t feel competent at it at all!! and people are pretty dismissive and rude!!! and i wrote like 3 paragraphs just complaining about it, but i deleted those just now. idk, what’s the point, right. i just don’t like it here, and i will last till the end of the month so i get one proper payout and then i might just quit and REALLY try to survive on freelance. if ONLY i was more successful at building an audience, and potential customers!! jesus. i don’t know. i don’t draw because i don’t feel like people care to see it, and obviously if i don’t try i won’t gain anything. why am i like this

anyway, a nice thing is that i feel like my plants are trying to cheer me up?

first of all, pretty much all of my 16 houseplants are doing well - my monstera deliciosa is SUCH a good lil bugger, she keeps sprouting new leaves every week! soon she’ll have to be repotted at this rate. and my finicky calathea, whom i recently treated of mites, which involved meticulously scrubbing every leaf with a toothbrush, is also sprouting two new leaves - something i have NEVER seen her do in the months of owning her. i guess this is her way of thanking me!

in addition to that - after my balcony garden got SCORCHED by the sudden heatwave this month, it’s finally recovering - i threw out the ugly little flowers that completely dried out and replaced them with fresh herbs (more my style, the flowers were a gift from my dad). i planted my some lemon balm, chives, oregano, mint, and my favorite herb - parsley. in addition to that, my strawberry plant has waken up from its little coma - after the insane harvest of spring berries it exhausted itself and went dormant - and now it’s round two, baby! she’s full of fresh leaves and flowers and everyday i get to snack on at least 4 new ripe strawbs. i can’t believe my dad suggested throwing her out after she stopped bearing fruit and got burnt leaves from the sun! look at her now. beautiful. dad’s jealous now, too, we bought the strawberry plants together from the same store and his never did this well.

i still have an abundance of cherry tomatoes and my bell peppers are finally ripening too, which is nice. on top of that, i planted some raddish and kohlrabi (turnip?) and to my shock, after my weekend camping trip, i found that they have both sprouted already! that’s like, four days! damn.

my heart still aches after the tragic loss of my favourite one  - the pea plant that i managed to, in record time, raise from a seed into a full grown plant that gave me exactly 12 delicious pea pods before succumbing to sudden 35 celsius heat. I nearly cried when i had to throw it out, but i kept the pot.... and like a phoenix from its ashes, it has risen again!! a little sprout, but we’ll see how it does. we do love a good comeback story!

today i also bought an ivy plant that i planted next to the herbs (is that a good idea? idk we’ll see) and some seeds that i planted, too (basil, more parsley, more chives, spinach, and some pea seeds that i sprinkled around my pea plant to give it some company hopefully, haha). we’ll see. i enjoy growing plants from nothing - it feels incredibly invigorating to see baby greens poking out of the dirt where there was nothing before. it’s not easy, but it’s rewarding.

random cute stuff from the past week that i can think of :

-camping trip was nice. saw a lot of gorgeous nature, went for a really nice long bike ride, ate some really good ice cream.

-biking is still amazing, i love my bike (i named him lestat, cause he’s got sass) and i go almost every day. thank god petržalka is such a heaven for cyclists. 

-cashier lady in billa complimented me on my stag beetle brooch that i have on my bag strap. it is a not much of a brooch, it is literally a 10 cm plastic beetle that i glued pin closings to, and he’s very visible on my chest. looks pretty realistic. it was nice to see him appreciated!!

-i might start streaming, just for my friends? like, videogames. i’m good at some, very good at others, and i can talk passionately about most, and that’s why throughout my life many of my friends and family members really enjoyed watching me play. i don’t know, but i don’t mind. i don’t really want an audience of strangers, but i don’t mind the occasional company and giving my friends something to fall asleep to. i mean i play vidya often anyway, so there is not much extra effort there haha

also, not cute, but tomorrow i have my 3 hour dentist session. i’m not excited for it, but i guess it’ll bring me a bit closer to my new teeth. jesus, i can’t wait. i know it will take like 2 more months to have it all done, but i really really want it to be done.

[missmeikakuna]

Chad and the Incel Chapter 9

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

9th Post: [Venting] She’s not my friend

Chad looked up the term ‘trap’ and, amongst the discussion on how hot these anime characters were, he found some YouTube videos on why the word was offensive.

He messaged Noah on his phone, using terms he wasn’t used to using and concepts he wasn’t used to tackling.

So is this ‘trap’ thing just for crossdressing guys? Apparently people call transgenders or whatever that word. The transgenders don’t seem to like it or something like that. Do you know about this?

Noah didn’t reply, focusing on writing more posts and comments on the forum. Chad read through each post as well as some by other users and sent Noah the occasional phone message, causing Noah’s eyebrows to twitch in anger.

A lot of people are posting stuff on that forum about killing themselves. They keep mentioning ‘suicide fuel’. You okay?

Woah, someone just posted about wanting a handy from his mom. The fuck? You’re not like that, right?

Why are girl incels banned? I feel like if a dude incel and a chick incel met they could be together and stop being incels. 

Hey, why didn’t you tell me I’m annoying? And I’m not a liar about being a virgin before we did it. I swear to God.

Noah sent Chad one message before exiting the forum.

If you don’t leave me the fuck alone I’m changing my username and never talking to you ever again. 

At school over the next few days, Noah ignored the talkative Chad.

In the morning Chad said, ‘So, I watched an episode of one of those anime and it was pretty good. It was Cowboy somethingarather. Some website recommended it. I was surprised that there was a black chick in it. I thought anime characters were all white or something. Have you seen this show?’

While lining up in the cafeteria, Chad admitted, ‘I’m a little confused about this blackpill-redpill-bluepill thing. What’s the difference?’

As they walked to their lockers, Chad whispered, ‘Who runs that forum? It seems like chaos in there. People say all sorts of crazy stuff. I mean, feminists can be annoying and shit but I don’t think they’re running some kind of conspiracy to prevent you from getting girls.’

As they reached Noah’s locker, Chad added, ‘And some guy said that it’s over for guys with glasses because of genetics or whatever.’ He looked around to see if anyone was watching. ‘He’s gotta be joking! Glasses on guys?’ He hooked his finger into the collar of his own shirt, pulled the collar like he was in the middle of a heatwave and whistled as he tossed his head back.

Noah had to scowl at him for that, taking off his glasses for a moment just to spite him.

When the two were alone before homeroom one day, Chad kept trying to grab Noah’s hand but Noah kept pulling it away. 

‘What’s wrong?’ Chad asked. ‘No one’s around. And we’ve done more than hold hands.’

Noah bit his lip and looked away. ‘I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.’

‘Sorry. But I don’t know if I really want to forget it. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, actually, how you expected it to be this perfect thing. Did someone on that forum say it’s supposed to be like that? I don’t know how they would be experts on that since they’re incels. But, I mean, it was still fun, right? You said it was okay and that’s better than bad.’

‘Has anyone told you that you talk too much?’

 Chad laughed. ‘Not really. It’s just… I find it easy talking to you. Every time we talk I learn something new and it’s kind of exciting, learning about this incel thing. It’s like I’ve discovered this hidden underground village or something. I don’t know what it is about you.’

‘So you like me because I’m an incel?’

The smile on Chad’s face withered and died. ‘No. Oh my god, no way. I could listen to you talk about anything and I’d be interested. Your looks and that make for a deadly combo.’ He chuckled. ‘I think God did a great job creating you overall.’ His eyes widened. ‘Wait, uh, was that too much?’

Noah looked down at his hands, which were curled up on his lap. His eyes were shiny as if holding back tears.

‘Can you stop with the flattery? I know you’re probably great at flirting and attracting people, but do you really need to keep shoving it in my face? I get it, you’re so much more successful than I am. You’re soooo hot and you could have any femoid you want. Stop bragging and talking down to me.’

‘Sorry about that, but I’m not brag-’

‘Of course you are! You keep bringing up the goddamn forum and how shitty you think the people are on there. Stop trying to act like a damn knight who’s here to rescue me from inceldom. It’s patronising as fuck. And that thing about God making me is stupid. Do you seriously think some magic bearded dude in space made me? Bullshit.’

‘Oh, right, you’re an atheist. Sorry. I kind of forgot. Not that I forget other things about you! I remember a lot.’ Chad paused to collect his thoughts before spouting anything he’d regret. ‘I guess I’m kind of a Christian, though I don’t really go to Church much.’

‘Christian, huh? That explains why you’re so stupid.’

Chad stood up, his chair making an ear-piercing squeak as it was pushed backwards.

‘Hey, that’s not fair!’ He leaned down until he and Noah were the length of a nose apart. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? Yeah, I believe in some higher power but I’m not some Bible-thumping crazy or anything like that!’

‘Really? I bet when everyone comes through this door you’ll get out of my face and act like you’re not interested in me, like a good Christian boy.’

As soon as he said that, several students entered the classroom, prompting Chad to turn away and sit back down, keeping his hands to himself.

Noah smirked at him before returning to ignoring him.

At home, Noah posted onto the forum. He hadn’t originally planned on posting that day but he had to test something.

Rotcel2003- [Venting] She’s not my friend.

I thought I’d just made a female friend but it turns out she’s not my friend. You can’t trust femoids. You’re just a placeholder until a Chad comes along.

Noah put his watch into timer mode and waited twenty seconds until the message arrived.

Who’s the girl? :( Good for you, I guess. Well, except for her being untrustworthy and shit.

Noah furiously typed one word to Chad.

Creep

He placed his phone onto his desk and collapsed onto his bed. He remembered what someone said to him on Incels.me.

Gay men are just coping incels.

The word ‘coping’ stood out to him. He had heard other incels refer to many other things as a ‘cope’: video games, watching sports and drawing to name a few. Copes were a distraction from the truth, which was that an incel like him could never truly be happy.

It took him half an hour to get out of bed and pick up the laptop. He opened the closet and carefully placed it on the floor inside it. He wanted to just drop the laptop to the ground but, cope as it was, his gaming laptop was expensive. He stacked his physical games next to the laptop. He then looked down into the closet and sighed, remembering who had been in this exact place not long ago. He shook his head. He wasn’t done yet.

He made room in his drawers, an easy task given the lack of quantity his clothing collection had. He put his anime figurines, DVDs and manga in there. He ran out of space to put the model planes in there, so he put them under his bed. He then deleted the manga reader and anime streaming apps on his phone. 

He turned his mirror around until it faced him and the image of smoke clouded his mind. His hands curled into fists and he decided to use one of those fists. Soon the small crack spread to the rest of the mirror. He wiped the blood that seeped out of his hand.

As a final touch, he ripped the posters from the wall. As he reached the lone NFL poster, he bit his lip and blinked quickly. He wasn’t going to cry over some creep. He shoved them under his bed next to the planes.

He looked around the room and noticed how plain and empty it looked. He sat on the bed and smiled at the one piece of decoration left, the cat-themed quilt.

Cope, he thought. He pulled the quilt off the bed and pushed it under the bed. He turned off the lights, slipped between the sheets and lied there, trapped between walls blackened by night. He shivered without the quilt but persevered. There was no point in doing anything that made him happy. All he could do was, as the incels say, lay down and rot.