#but just by reading about that take from the writer

[buddie911abc]

Here I go again.

Buck asks Eddie if his son is the real reason he doesn't date. Eddie responds with, "That and, they weren't my type."

This has been a flag for everyone who reads the subtext, but let's take a moment to look at the last GIF.

Eddie says they weren't his type. Buck turns around to look at them and probably assesses what makes them, 'not' Eddie's type because the girls were all subjectively pretty. There were also a variety of types of women there.

But look closely at the GIF. Eddie said they weren't his type. While Buck is glancing back, Eddie gives Buck a quick look that really screams, "You are it. You are the type." When I noticed this from the GIF edit, I thought it might be the creator slowing it down, but nope. If I look at the episode, it is the same or nearly the same. This is early season two, and I have always thought, in the early episodes, there was no intent to pair Eddie with Buck as anything but a friend. However, this scene makes me wonder at what point Tim M or whoever was writing changed their minds about adding in a subtextual narrative.

I find it very difficult to see this scene as a heteronormative exchange. In fact, it even feels like Eddie is pushing back a little to test where Buck stands. Buck as a character who lacks self-awareness gives a mixed signal answer. (which tracks with his character at this point and matches his coming-out arc.) **edited to clarify** Buck's mixed signal response to Eddie saying they aren't my type is, "Not mine either, at least not anymore."**

A few seconds later, Buck says Eddie has a weak excuse. My lovely and wonderfully sassy Eddie says, "You live in your invisible girlfriend's house, and you're telling me about weak excuses." He essentially points at Buck's closet door, but of course, this is something that Buck couldn't see or pick up on at the time. These moments are small in the grand scheme of the show as a whole so I'm afraid it will be forgotten. It would be nice to have some sort of throwback acknowledgment that this scene hasn't been retconned.

To backtrack a little bit here, I would also like to point out something else about the early timing or the writing of these characters as potentially queer. They are outside. (True I don't understand the ins and outs of filmmaking so there may very well be a reason for this.) But the shot itself is making them walk close together. Not just close, their shoulders are literally bumping against each other, hitting and knocking at each other in a way that might appear "unintentionally" intimate--until you remember they are outside. It seems to me like there are dozens of ways to shoot this thing that don't require them to be so casually physical with each other. For the scene to be shot like this and then consider the canon conversation that took place, it feels quite intentional that the writers wanted viewers to look closely for something else.

Whenever certain people call Buddie shippers delusional, I think about this. Subtextual language aside, the scenes are shot in such a way as to plant the idea of "More." There is attraction here. There is flirting.

Someone, somewhere wanted to tell this story from the start; and I'm not mad about it. I'm 100% here for it, and I'm ready for it to go down as the most epic love story I've ever watched or read about, but I also admit that I want it to be canon, not so I can throw it in anyone's face that their ship is wrong, but so I can prove I'm not some weirdo putting two hot guys together. I'm seeing a real romance being built. I want that validation as much as I want everyone under the LGBTQ umbrella to see representation for themselves on screen.

If you want to see the scene, go to about 3:05.

[kiwiana-writes]

WIP Wednesday

Hey, y'all. I am struggling. With motivation, with ideas, with passion. Writing has always been my outlet and when the outlet isn't outletting... it's pretty fucking killer, I'm not gonna lie to you. I haven't read anything in literal weeks, either. Brains! Who'd have em?

Thanks to everyone who has continued to tag me over the last few weeks, and to @thighzp for the tag tonight. I really appreciate everyone who isn't just letting me disappear into the Void of Writers Past, which is basically my biggest fear lmfao.

Anyway. I have no idea what this is yet, apart from an attempt at a birthday present for a friend that stalled out and watched her birthday sail past, but!

Henry Fox is—allegedly—a pillow princess. It’s not like Alex has first-hand knowledge. He knows what a pillow princess is, because Nora once got very drunk and waxed poetic about how they’re underappreciated and unfairly maligned by the sapphic community. He also knows who Henry Fox is, because they shared a [something] class in freshman year in which Henry was tall and blond and British and annoying, and Alex didn’t miss a single opportunity to tell him that. But that was a year ago now, and Alex has never had any reason to think about those two completely unrelated pieces of knowledge in conjunction, except that his absolute least favourite lacrosse teammate is functionally incapable of having some fucking decorum, apparently.  “I mean, I guess it makes sense.” It’s not the first time Alex has internally described Darren’s face as punchable while Darren is running his mouth in the locker room, and it almost definitely won’t be the last. “When you’ve got a face like that, you probably don’t need to learn how to be good at it, you know? Guys will be lining up around the block to give it to him even if he just lays there.” “Including you,” Alex points out, because he has chronic can’t-shut-the-fuck-up disease and no real sense of self-preservation.

Tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517

@celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice

@everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @larkral @leaves-of-laurelin

@lilythesilly @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @myheartalivewrites @ninzied

@nocoastposts @nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @piratefalls

@porcelainmortal @read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail

@sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @thesleepyskipper @thinkof-england

@tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Why Writing Is So Lonely | Rin T.

Hello writers, and anyone else who uses Tumblr on a daily basis like me. (Although I’ve been inactive off and on.) It’s me, Rin, and I wanted to talk about something that I think a lot of us struggle with. Or at least anyone, and everyone who considers themselves writers.

The loneliness that can come with the writing life and being a writer. We spend so much of our time alone. It doesn’t matter if you're using your laptop or scribbling in notebooks. Or pacing around in your living room and muttering dialogue to yourself (which I'm completely guilty of.)

Writing is really a solitary passion, and it hasn't just recently been like that. I'm sure Jane Austen and Edgar Allen Poe dealt with similar feelings. And sometimes that isolation can take a real toll that many of us choose to ignore, both on our creativity, our passion, which I assume is writing in this case, and our mental health.

I’ve been writing for about 4 years now, mostly working on my own little passion projects that I plan on publishing and side hustles, not only for my writing project but also my blog (TheWrite AdviceForWriters). I’m currently knee-deep in 4 different novel drafts that I’m absolutely in love with. However, let me tell you. It can get Very lonely a lot of times. There are days when I feel like I’m the only person in the world who cares about these made-up characters and their fictional problems. The characters I create in my mind are so vivid that they seem like the only individuals who actually care about my passion. (They technically are, considering they are basically my passion.)

It’s so easy to start wondering whether anyone will ever want to read the stories I'm pouring my heart into. The self-doubt I get has been a big part of my writing journey, and sometimes it breaks my heart knowing that I may not please everyone who reads my stories. That I possibly could get the worst reviews out there on my book. If it's not perfect for society. For example, I have been reading and receiving news on Alex Aster and the amount of bad reviews she received for her LightLark novel, and she has had a few times where she’s stated she poured her heart into it. And it's not just Aster who deals with these as a published author; there are many others, and it sometimes scares me.

But you know what? I've come to realize that this loneliness is just part of the writer’s journey. And that it truly is going to be the process of every writer’s journey and career. It’s going to be one of the prominent challenges we have to face if we want to do this crazy, wonderful, painful thing we call writing. And I think it's important we talk about it, especially since I'm a blogger who owns a blog specifically for writers. The biggest reason I chose to create this blog was for this reason and the many other challenges of being a writer. 

I definitely will consider this blog post to be a discussion, and if anyone wants to reblog or reply to this blog post and start a conversation, please do so, just so we can support each other and figure out healthy ways to cope.

So, why is writing such a lonely pursit? Well, there are quite a few reasons, especially reasons for each individual writer; however, here are a few key reasons:

The Act Itself is Solitary.

At the end of the day, writing is something we have to do on our own. Sure, we can brainstorm with other writers and friends who write or get feedback from beta readers. Or even develop  and edit your manuscript with a professional book editor. But the actual act of putting words on the page is a solo endeavor. We’re the ones doing the typing, the (physical) writing, and the constant racking of our brains to find the perfect word or phrase to put down on paper or the blank page on a screen.

Even when we’re writing collaboratively, there’s still a certain level of isolation involved. I mean, after all, our individual writing process and creative visions have to align for the collaboration to work.

And let’s be real—aligning those things isn't always easy.

I’ve reached out to book editors, more so of developmental editors, which is an editor who guides the writer/author on the actual plot and outline of the novel itself. And they have mentioned the difficulties of needing to align with the creativity of the topic or novel. It isn't easy at all.

I know that for me, my most productive writing sessions happen when I'm alone. And I know for a fact I'm not alone on that.

Having no distractions when it's just me, my thoughts, and the blinking cursor on the screen with a Spotify playlist playing in the background. And while that can be deeply fulfilling and very productive, I will admit it can be incredibly lonely.

It's an Emotionally Draining Process.

Writing isn't just about stringing words together. It's about pouring our hearts and souls onto the page. Were digging into our deepest emotions, our biggest fear, our wildest dreams, our thoughts, our philosophy, I can go on. And that kind of vulnerability can be utterly exhausting.

When I'm in the process of drafting a new novel or the many current projects I'm working on. I often find myself emotionally drained at the end of the day. I've been living and breathing these characters, feeling their joys and pains as my own. describing the actions, words, and emotions these characters do and feel. And then after that, I have to close my laptop, put my pen and notebook away, and try to reenter the “real world"—a world that doesn’t always understand the weight I've been carrying. 

It can be so isolating, feeling like the only person who understands the emotional journey of your writing. Knowing what it feels like to create characters and their stories and emotions and personalities just as if they were real humans. Our non-writer friends and family members try their best to be supportive, but unless they experience it firsthand, they cannot fully grasp the depth of what we go through. I can tell when I explain my projects to others who aren't writers, it can sometimes feel like they don't care about what I'm saying to them. Or it can also feel like, my stories are just a synopsis for an underrated movie no one’s ever watched.

It's a Profession of Rejection

I think we all know, writing is a tough gig. It's a tough career and job. Even the most successful authors have had to face their fair share of rejection. The rejections can be received from agents, publishers, readers, or critics. (like I mentioned earlier), and that constant stream of “no’s” can really chip away at our confidence and sense of self-worth. And especially if you're an aspiring author and have not yet published your work. Knowing that rejection is a big part of the career of writing is frightening. Really.

I remember when one of my best friends, who is a writer, who is currently in the process of publishing her book, would send query after query only to receive endless rejections. She told me it felt like the entire world was telling her, “Your writing isn't good enough,” and that can be a pretty lonely and demoralizing place to be. It has made me anxious about getting to the querying phase, as I still haven't begun to query yet.

Even when we start to find some success, the fear of rejection never really goes away. Will readers love our next book as much as the last one? Will readers even like my debut novel? Will the critics tear it apart? I know when I first started writing my first novel project. I rewrote the first chapter. 13 times!! And that’s because of all the questions and doubts I had in mind. It’s enough to make any writer want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

And the thing is, as writers, we often don't have the same support system that people in other professions might have. We don't have coworkers to commiserate with or a boss to reassure us; it’s just us. Our doubts and the eerie silence of an empty inbox. For example, Ana Neu, one of my all-time favorite Author-Tuber's, has dealt with similar struggles. She’s mentioned several times how lonely she feels and how her family doesn't fully understand her love and passion for writing. And I completely agree with her. If you want to listen to more of her, please listen to her podcast and watch her videos on YouTube here.

So, now that I went over the key reasons as to why writing is so lonely, I didn't want to end this post on negativity, that’s why I wanted to list the main strategies that have helped me:

Build a Writer’s Community

One of the best ways to combat the isolation of writing is to surround yourself with other writers. That’s why I found social media to be a gift, not just for the other obvious reasons, but because we get to find writers around the world who enjoy the same things we like. Having that sense of community can be a game changer.

When I first started my Tumblr blog, TheWriteAdviceForwers, I was really hoping to create that kind of supportive space for writers. I wanted to create a space where anyone who enjoys writing—not just fiction writers, but anyone who finds writing to be a passion of theirs—can share their dreams and struggles with. It's been amazing to connect with so many incredible people who just “get” the unique challenges we face. Being able to share our achievements and share our compassions. It's been vital for my own mental health as a writer, and I hope that it can also be vital for all of you.

And of course, the community is not about venting or seeking validation from others; its about providing feedback, encouragement, and just being able to make friends. Having that makes the lonely parts of the writing process and journey feel a little less lonely.

Prioritize Self-care

It's so easy to get caught up in the work and neglect our well-being. There have been multiple times where I wouldn't take a break from my writing sessions and simply not eat and drink. I wouldn't give myself time to process everything I wrote, and I immediately after would criticize it.

However, I find that self-care is the most important part of combating the isolation that comes with being a writer. For me, that looks like making sure I get enough sleep. You can't process, learn, and remember anything when you don't have enough sleep. During my personal self-care, when I do 45-to 1-hour writing sessions, I usually take a short nap after. Eating nourishing meals and snacks is important, as is making time for the hobbies and activities that bring me joy. I usually like reading books, spending quality time with my family members, and very feisty (and sometimes scary) cat.

3. Cultivate Gratitude

When loneliness starts to creep in, it can be really helpful to shift our mindset and focus on what we are grateful for; this can be really productive and rewarding. Being a writer is a gift; we get to spend our days doing what we love, bringing our creative visions to life and sharing them with people who love literature. Readers are such a big part of being a writer, and they're huge motivations to me.

So, if you can, just take a moment to appreciate the joys of writing. For example, if you have any writing quirks, I personally have to wear bracelets on both of my wrists in order to produce some type of creativity when I write. I'm not sure why it's just something I noticed. I also really love writing my manuscripts physically. I tend to do this when I'm suffering from writer's block, and for some reason my writing style is a lot better.

And don't forget the many other joys of writing, like drafting, and the excitement of sharing your work with others. Having a new idea come to mind that fits perfectly in your plot. Or even a reader or beta reader sharing a comment on your work and giving you encouragement.

Also, please celebrate your wins; it makes writing all too fun, and it's a great way to integrate writing into the real world.

End Note

I wanted to write this post because I know a lot of us deal with feeling lonely; I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time, and I wanted to share it with Tumblr. I feel like each and every one of you all feel the same way. And that’s why I created my Tumblr community; that's the reason I created this blog, and that's the reason I strive to build this into an entire brand.

I want to bring more awareness to writers, we are the people behind the stories, movies, and media that we consume today, and we barely get any credit for our work. I want to make a brand where others who never thought writing to be their passion could actually for once consider “Is writing for me?”

I feel like it's such an underrated yet overrated passion. Yet it's not acknowledged as much. 

I hope this post can make you understand that writing is 90% lonely and you are not crazy for thinking so. But, we can use the resources we have today, like social media, to change that and make writing better for the present and the future. 

Thank you all for reading. And please, if you are considering joining a community if you haven't already, please join The Write Right Society. We recently met 100 members, and the community is continuing to grow.

[unhinged-nymph]

rhett and link reading thirst tweets:

link calling a male cat sexy

smoosh

"I encourage you to continue to thirst for me" no worries

link's blue eyes

link barking for rhett

the splash

link looking intensely at rhett's shirt buttons

them making link read the tweets about rhett lol

link getting kinky

thinking about link watering my garden

link's lil chuckle at "closeted bi dude"

"well we are married" "yeah... but not to each other"

"bi means he wants to fuck both of us at the same time".... ok

"you came along for the ride with this one... literally" oh ok so link's riding d-

taking a moment to point out how much they have to either a) be looking deep into each other's eyes or b) be touching, in multiple places preferably

slowly. lick. under. taint.

"oh I'm not concerned" "well I think there should be at least a day to separate us... I don't want to taste you" why'd he have to say it like that

"this is a pitch; it's one of our writers" lmaooo

"one day we might kiss" every time they bring this up they get more and more positive about it lol

"you're gonna cum where?" rhett pls

"I didn't know what this was... until we did it" talking about eiffel towering is crazyyy

link thinking rhett just wanted to hold him up and hold hands while they simultaneously fucked a bush "oh yeah that's a good idea, it'll make it easier for us to copulate with this bush" ok

"you need to watch more porn" "well you need to kiss my ass" mhm

"have we done that?" lmaooo like yes? several times actually

and then rhett talking about making jessie squirt?/watersports???? hello

"I'm at my sexual peak, I'll add that."

"so is what you're saying is that your pussy eating skills are only going to improve from here?" "yeah." "and my dick's only gonna get sloppier" "yeah yeah"

taking a moment to just say... THEY ARE FLIRTING

and just blushing so much lol

link reminding everyone that he's an exhibitionist by talking about letting his dogs out at the airport

them inviting us to cum in their wonderhole......

wow

[novella-november]

Not to harsh your joy regarding your personal project, (which does sound awesome!) the fact that you keep answering the "can I do fanfic?" questions with "technically yes, but have you considered not doing that?" does not actually *feel* very fanfic friendly. (Especially for anyone who enjoys fanfic as a hobby and isn't also an ofic writer. For example, I personally write almost exclusively character studies that are an explicit reaction to canon; there is no real way to write that sort of thing except as fanfic.)

Which is just a long-winded way of requesting that you maybe consider less of a caveat with the FAQ if you make one, please.

oh that was definitely not my intention, thanks for the ask! I think it was mostly just because I got that same question a few times in a row from various anons within the same time span (including some that were not published publicly), it just happened that I was thinking of my own project(s, plural now) in the last day when I answered those two, for those who want an extra creative challenge.

There's a reason my own original thing has been in my head for the last ten years without me actually writing it while I've written and posted tons of fanfiction, and even now some of my original works are going to be based on Arsene Lupin, so they'd technically be considered fanfiction since they're based on and use an established work for the characters and settings --

--writing completely original fic *is* harder, and that's exactly why I'm *suggesting* (not requiring!) that people consider taking 1 out of short story 4 challenges to look at their work in a new light.

90% of what I read and (until I actually start and finish my original works) 100% of what I've written in my life is fanfic. I have nothing against fanfic, otherwise I woudn't even be interested in creative writing.

But its also not a diss to say "Would you consider looking at your [fanfic] writing from a new angle and try to figure out different ways of going about it?"

Honestly, being able to even consider this option *as a fun extra challenge* is meant to help improve your writing and creative skills; it's not meant as a cheap shot at people who choose to write fanfiction because I my self write and read tons of it,

it's me saying "if you want even more practice at creative writing during these monthly challenges, try branching out a little bit from your comfort zone, you may be pleasantly surprised."

People who write and read fanfiction already have tons of creative experience, and if people like me and many other fanfic writers who one day dream of being published authors, want to broaden our horizons and seek new experiences, one of the easiest exercises is to take something we're planning on writing or already wrote, and see what we would change to make it brand new and standalone--

-- something that not only helps you come up with new ideas, but also will help when it comes time to *edit*, which can be, depending on the length and complexity of your story, can be a complicated process:

whether that means having to delete scenes entirely,

changing what a character says,

altering an aspect of the worldbuilding to fix plot holes

, re-writing your character so they're not overpowered because it was ruining the stakes and tension,

changing the POV of chapters because it was ruining the flow of the story,

etc etc etc.

I love fan fiction.

I love reading it and I love writing it, and for many people who take on monthly writing challenges, it is a way to test ourselves and gear ourselves up and prove to ourselves that not only can we write x amount of words, but it proves to ourselves that we are *capable of creating*, and for many creatives, that ultimately leads to crafting our own unique stories;

if you're already taking place in a monthly writing challenge, why not push the bounds a little bit *if you're so inclined* and test the waters? Especially when you're surrounded by a community who is cheering you on, every step of the way?

Every Nanowrimo I ever won was fanfiction. Heck, even not during November I once did 40k words in two weeks for a fic.

I always stalled out when I tried to write original works;

it is much easier to start small with a single short story than it is to try to write an entirely original novel, and my encouraging people to try baby steps by *experimenting* with one short story out of four in a month is not meant to be a diss against fanfiction,

but an *encouragement to those like me* who were so eager to write original works but floundered when I tried to jump into the deep end and felt disheartened.

Many fanfic authors aspire to write original fics, and thats who that challenge is for, for the people who want to write original works but are too afraid to fully commit; I'll still be writing and posting fanfiction even if I become a published author, even If I just have to come up with a few new pen-names to post them under.

There's absolutely no judgement on anyone who wants to write fanfiction for these challenges, my "caveat" as you say, is only there as encouragement to those like me who are afraid to take the first step, or uncertain of how to even *begin* that first step, not any kind of condemnation.

TL;DR:

I did not mean for my responses on the "can I write fanfiction" to come off as rude or looking down on fanfiction, its meant to be an encouragment to all the people like me who love fanfic and started out writing fanfiction, and dream of writing original works to take the first step, with a community of like-minded people all taking the same challenge.

Like every other challenge aspect of these events, taking a fanfic idea and turning it into an original short story is completely optional and meant as inspiration, just like following prompts for events is not mandatory, and even completing the 30k word goal is not mandatory; the goal for this month is to create, get in the habit of creating, and having fun with it!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 15) Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Rape

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

The high pitch whistle of air passing between Laurence’s lips cut through the air, ripping through what little peace you could cling to. He always whistled while dressing, especially after having taken his pleasure from you. It didn’t matter that you lay trying to will your heart to stop beating in your chest as wetness trickled down your thigh.

That wasn’t different in the slightest, but this morning, things were different. You were sobbing, for one. Though you tried to stifle the sound, bunching blankets up to shove against your mouth as you lay crumpled on the bed with your legs tucked against your chest. 

This morning, you had fought him. Why, you couldn’t say. Though, as his wife, you had no right to deny him your body, you had told him ‘no’. That meant nothing to him. It meant nothing to him when you screamed or when you pushed at him as his much larger body enveloped you. It meant nothing to him as you clawed at his chest.

For Laurence’s part, he was sure that today was going to be a good day. He had plans, big ones for the day. He had woken up hard, eager to fuck the day and looking over at you, he found you making the loveliest sounds in your sleep. Little whimpers that sounded so much like the sounds Emma would make as he kissed her neck passed through your lips as your eyes moved under your eyelids.

It was only right for him to start his day buried inside his wife’s cunt, Laurence decided in that moment. With you asleep and making those sweet noises, surely you were dreaming about him, about your want for him. Laurence knew he would push your nightgown up and find you welcoming to him without the pressure of society’s propriety you seemed to exist living by. 

You woke with a start as he slotted his. Burning pain ripped through you as he pushed inside, hips jerking into you. Each brutal thrust forced himself deeper, ripping open your core. 

A scream tore from your chest as he forced himself deeper, not relenting at the resistance your body put up. The sound wasn’t long lived as Laurence’s hand clamped down over your mouth. He glowered down at you, bright blond hair lit up by the morning sun. He had to hold his hand over your face as he fucked you, sealing the breath in your lungs and stifling your screams as you clawed at him.

He had almost lost track of time as he fucked into you while your struggles grew weaker, but he caught himself just in time. The moment his hand lifted from your face, letting you breathe, you gasped in a breath and forced it to not leave you in another scream. 

“Honey?” Laurence went to your side, running his hand up and down your bruised arm softly, as if he could wipe away the lingering marks his hands had left like they were little more than marks on a chalkboard.

 He’d been so good to you lately, so distracted- the marks were mostly green and yellow, healing with the passage of time as spring took root. It’s a shame you had to take all that kindness and patience he gave you and turn around and fight him over your wifely duties. 

“You’re overreacting.” He said softly, as if your tears were over nothing more than a broken earring. 

“I’m sorry, Laurence.” You whispered the words, trying to hold your breath to control the flow of your tears. All it did was remind you of how it felt to have his hand over your mouth and nose, lungs fighting for small gasps of air as you struggled under him. 

“You need to stop fighting it,” Laurence ran his hand over your hair, smoothing it down as he sat on the edge of the bed. The way he spoke reminded you of a parent lecturing their child about the need to take medicine. “You’re my wife. It’s your job to see to my needs. All of them.” 

“I know,” you whimper, forcing yourself to submit to his touch. It had been harder and harder to allow him to couch you, as you’d spent more time with Alastor. It wasn’t right, you knew that. Laurence was right. It was your duty to allow him to touch you.

You needed to do better so that he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“Honey, I’m not going to be home tonight. That’s why I had to have you so bad. I’ve gotta leave town for a meeting. It’s a big deal and we’ll be set for the year if I close it. Get you that clothes washer you wanted. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Laurence.” Your throat was so dry, it felt like you were speaking through sand. 

“I’ll be home tomorrow for dinner, alright?” He leaned down and kissed your temple. The trembling in your body froze at the contact. It wasn’t comfort that stilled you. 

“Alright.” You whispered, feeling muscles cramp as your body struggled to remain still. It didn’t matter that he had already had you, that he had already hurt you. 

Alastor sat in the cafe, cup of strong coffee in hand as his eyes skimmed over the newspaper. Bright lights lit up the shiny polished tile. It was a far cry from the warm and comfortable cafe he had spent much of his childhood in but it was the world he had fought tooth and nail to step into. 

That didn’t stop him from fighting to maintain the smile on his face. The morning had been less than ideal, with a board on the porch snapping under foot on his way out the door. It wouldn’t be a difficult repair, but he wasn’t looking forward to it either. 

The fact that his latest body was on the third page and some other half bit sloppy killer was on the front page had him in a sour mood. It wasn’t the first time this other person had stolen his spotlight, but at least this time they were reporting on the bodies as the acts of two separate killers. 

Alastor had been expecting to start his morning off with an early call from Laurence and been right. Now he was stuck waiting for the one man he cared to see least in the moment to join him. 

The individual stealing his spotlight could have at least made themselves useful and taken out Laurence for him. Then Alastor wouldn’t have to sit and spend his morning waiting for the fool to show up.

He glanced up at the sound of someone approaching his table to see it was just the man he was waiting for. Alastor set his paper down, article on the latest body found front and center, proclaiming to the world that they were no closer to catching the person responsible, as he stood. 

“Laurence, a pleasure to see you again,” Alastor lied, holding his hand out. As was expected, his business associate clasped his hand and shook. Today, Alastor resisted the urge to crush the lesser man’s hand again, but the temptation had nearly won out.

“Likewise, Alastor.” The other man spoke through gritted teeth, “Shall we get down to it?” 

Alastor motioned for the other man to take a seat across the table from him. He didn’t return to his seat until Laurence did so, taking the moment to tower over the blond man, to remind him of his place. Laurence was to be looked down upon. He was below Alastor. 

“I’ve got your payment.” Laurence pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. 

Alastor eyed it for a moment, letting it sit where Laurence left it. He took a long drink from his coffee before finally setting the mug down as he picked up the envelope. He didn’t bother being discreet. Rather, he made a show of counting the bills inside, ensuring the agreed upon payment was there in full. 

“I’m glad to know you managed to make the payment,” Alastor said, slipping the envelope into his pocket jacket pocket, “Considering your firm lost the station contract.” 

“Just a minor speed bump,” Laurence assured him, though Alastor could see the way the other man’s jaw ticked, muscle jumping as he clenched his teeth. 

“Of course.” Alastor’s smile pulled wider across his face. 

The phone rang mid morning, startling you out of your thoughts as you scrubbed the bathroom tiles. You hesitated for a second as you walked by Laurence’s office door. There was a phone receiver in there, but you were not allowed to enter his office. 

With a shake of your head, you made your way downstairs and picked up the receiver in the hall. There was no reason to dwell on how much more convenient it would be to be able to answer from that phone. 

“Hello?” Silence stretched on as you waited a few moments before repeating the word.

“It’s me,” Alastor’s voice filled your ear as he spoke softly, “Is he home?” 

“No,” You found yourself leaning against the wall, mindful to keep the pressure off your still healing ribs as found butterflies fluttering around your stomach. Your heart was giddy at the sound of his voice. “I’m alone.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Alastor asked, no longer whispering. Static crackled over the line, fading in and out, but that didn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. 

“Tomorrow by dinner.” You felt scandalous to be telling an unattached man such a thing, but he was safe. Alastor wouldn’t hurt you. It was safe to confide in him. It was safe to talk to him. 

Perhaps that’s part of the problem, a voice in the back of your head whispered, but you ignored it. The last thing in the world you wanted at the moment was to listen to the vile logic of that voice. 

This was the only thing you had for yourself in your life and you were determined to cling to it, cling to him as long as you could. It was innocent, anyway. Society wouldn’t understand your friendship, but that didn’t make it anything more than it was.

“So you’ll be home, all alone, all night long?” Alastor’s voice purred across the line, the same tone you were sure he used to catch the attention of any woman who caught his eye. 

You feigned a mock gasp before giggling, “Alastor! What are you implying?” 

Alastor’s suave purr melted into a warm laugh that soothed away the aches in your joints. “That you may need to come out with me. I know a joint, good music, good drinks, good dancing. What do you say?”

“Somewhere that you know? Would it be safe?” You chewed on your lip as you listened to his chuckle. 

“Do you trust me?” He teased. “If you do, meet me in our alley.” He asked, and you trusted him. With hardly a doubt, you did. 

You wore your best dress, not that it was up to style. The deep green color and glittering beads contrasted with the vibrant red of the cloak you secured around your shoulders. The sun was setting, lighting up your home with the warm golden glow that was unique to mornings and evenings as you applied your lipstick.

If you didn’t hurry, it would be dark before you got to the alley. The cover of darkness would be useful in hiding your identity but brought its own dangers, dangers you were not sure you were brave enough to face alone. 

One last look in the mirror brought a smile to your face. Most of the bruises were hidden, covered by powders, creams or bangles. If you kept the cloak on, no one would see the fading bruises on your arm. If Al was taking you somewhere with drinks, dancing and music, you wouldn’t be able to get away with not shedding it. No one would care to notice them, even if it was bright enough inside to see them though, if music was playing, drink flowing and lights dim. 

Never in your life had you wanted to look as nice as you did tonight for him. Even as you were primped and polished for your wedding day, you hadn’t been too concerned with your appearance. 

It was better that you didn’t think about it too carefully. It was better that you didn’t consider what it could mean. You deserved a night out. You deserved to have a friend. There was nothing wrong with what you were doing. 

But… you hoped he would find you pretty. 

“Mimzy?” Alastor called into the dimly lit lounge. It was early, and she was far from opening, but he had a key. She was prone to losing hers, misplacing it for days at a time, and he would have to come to her rescue. 

“Al?” Her voice came from the back. “What ya doing here so early?” 

“I’ve got a favor to ask you,” he was shouting across the lounge, knowing there wasn’t anyone to overhear them. 

“What ya need?” She called back, glancing over her shoulder as he drew closer to where she was unpacking crates of liquor into a box hidden under the floorboards. She had a few spots to stash excess supply, had to be sure she could open right back up if she got busted. 

Women didn’t get thrown in jail for running shows like this. Whatever lad she currently had on her arm this season would take the fall, as they always did, and she would get off by batting her pretty blue eyes and acting like she knew nothing. 

“Use of the side storeroom for the night?” Alastor took a few bottles out of the crate and passed them into the box Mimzy was stuffing. 

“That room is full of boxes and crap,” Mimzy only glanced up at him as he put another bottle down into the straw filled box. 

“We can move all that. I’ll help.” 

“Why that space?” Mimzy stood up, dusting her hands off while he closed the box and began replacing the boards. 

“It’s just got a curtain,” Alastor slipped one board into place and then the other before picking up the crate and carrying it to the next hiding place. “We’ll be able to hear the band better, see them a little too.” 

“What are you planning?” Mimzy rested a fist on her cocked hip. 

“I’m going to bring her here tonight,” Alastor said as if it was nothing. “He’s going to be gone until tomorrow, and left her behind. Can you believe that?” 

“What I can’t believe is that you’re wanting to do something like this for your latest little hobby.” Mimzy rolled her eyes, but the sass did nothing to wipe the smile from her face.

“She’s just lonely, needs a friend.” Alastor rolled his eyes back at Mimzy as she started pulling up the next set of boards. “You didn’t see the way he left her- all over some flowers.”

“You gave a married woman flowers, knowing how Laurence is, and were surprised how it turned out?” Mimzy looked up at him from where she knelt, eyebrow raised, “Men like that are mean at best.” 

“That it turned out as badly as it did for her? Yes.” Alastor gave Mimzy a pointed look, “Didn’t you say I needed more friends, more company and to be less isolated? I’m only doing what you told me to do.”

“But carrying on with a married woman wasn’t what I meant.”

“And when did you become the paragon of propriety?” Alastor let out a breath, sending a chunk of hair that had fallen into his face off to the side. 

“Alastor, don’t be like that.” Mimzy huffed, “You know I don’t give a shit if someone’s married or not. I’m not above spending an evening with a married man. But I worry about you, that’s all.” 

“You needn’t worry about me, my dear.” Alastor patted Mimzy on the top of her head, ignoring the scowl etched across her face. 

“Of course you can use the room.” She answered, an exasperated sigh paired with the relaxing of her furrowed brows. 

With the added pair of hands, they could unpack the crates much faster than Mimzy would have alone. That worked out just fine for Alastor, leaving him plenty of time ahead of opening to get the small side room emptied. For that task, he didn’t have the benefit of an additional set of hands, though he had expected as much.

Mimzy watched, drink in hand, as Alastor moved boxes and crates, stacking them in different side rooms. There wasn’t much order to where he put things. Much of the boxes and crates held things that belonged to the landlord or things she was storing for this person or that. 

Her speakeasy had not always functioned as a bar and lounge, but she improvised with what she had. With the nature of her business, it wasn’t really in per power to demand an empty space from the landlord. Storing other people’s junk earned her a few extra pennies a month, too. 

“You sure about this?” Mimzy called as he walked a small table into the enclave behind the curtain. 

“I’ve got it under control, Mimzy. I’m just having some fun before I end Laurence.” Alastor called, “Start bein on the watch for a new supplier.”

“And how you going to do that?” She watched as he made his way back for two chairs.

“I’ll see him into bankruptcy. He’ll be so shamed he has no choice but to divorce his pretty little wife and then I’ll take her from him too.” 

“You think that’s how that works?” Mimzy laughs. “Men don’t just let go of their wives when they go broke, Al.” 

“He won’t be able to provide for her,” Alastor walked by, glasses, tablecloth and a candle in his hand while Mimzy’s eyebrow rose. “I’ll buy him off and poof. I’ve got a romantic cover so people can stop yapping.” 

“And that requires a date in my side room?”

You looked both ways before tugging the red bowl hat down just a little more before you turned into the alleyway. Your alleyway. Your place, as Alastor had called it. It wasn’t safe for a woman to just walk in an alleyway. To steal moments of time with Alastor, it was worth it to take these little risks, though. It was more and more worth it as you spent more time with him. Peeking in, you saw the dark mass that you hoped was his car. 

“Hey,” Alastor’s warm voice came softly from just under the cover of the shadows, far closer to the mouth of the alley than you had expected. “I wanted to make sure you made it to the car alright.”

His hand, covered with a dark gray leather glove, reached out from the darkness, inviting you in. Each moment that passed drew the darkness tighter around you while the sun sank lower below the horizon line. You looked both ways, finding no one paying you any mind at all as they scurried home to their dinner. With one last deep breath, you let Alastor take your hand and pull you into the darkness with him. 

“Good Evening,” you whispered. 

“I’m glad you made it safe,” Alastor’s voice was soft. He leaned into you as he tucked your hand around his arm, confidently leading you through the near total shadows. “Forgive me for not picking you up directly, as a gentleman should.” 

“It wouldn’t have been proper, it would have looked-” you tripped in the darkness but the hard ground never came. Alastor’s arm reached out, catching you and holding you against his side, mindful of your still healing broken ribs. 

“Be careful,” he said, “And it would have looked like exactly what it is.” 

What did he mean by that? 

Alastor parked his car behind a large brick building. Technically, it was the side, but the back door was where everyone else would go in. The side door function as the back door to Mimzy’s joint, Alastor had explained. The front door was boarded closed, not having been used in as long as he had known her. 

You stepped out of the car after looking for anyone that could see and may recognize you and tell the world of your sins. Darkness fell, night chasing away twilight as Alastor drove you to the heart of the city. It always amazed you how quickly the day could give up its grasp to night. 

Alastor wasted no time tucking you into his arm, hiding you against his towering frame as he shut the door behind you. His presence was a rock you clung to through the rushing waves of fear and guilt. Again and again, as you allowed him to wrap you in his arm the way a lover would, you tried to tell yourself that this was just friendship. 

You were doing nothing wrong. 

Tucked against him, you walked with him to the door that looked clearly unused in the dark. Light from the street lamps, recently switched to electric as so many things were now, reflected off the dull metal that was full of dents and scratches. There were warning bells screaming in your mind, telling you that you had let yourself get talked into a dangerous situation. 

How well did you really know him?

There was a serial killer on the run. While they usually took men, it wasn’t unheard of for a woman’s body to be found, chunks of flesh or whole limbs missing. You tried to focus on the warmth of him, the arm holding you nestled against his side as the door opened to darkness. 

Alastor was safe. He wouldn’t hurt you. Your mind was just running away with you. It was just the guilt. Alastor had done nothing to make you fear him. There wasn’t anything wrong. He had been a perfect gentleman. You convinced yourself that you were worrying about nothing. 

Alastor flicked a switch just inside the door, and electricity buzzed to life. Overhead, a few lightbulbs flickered before building brightness but most came to life instantly. It didn’t light the space particularly well, but it allowed you to see. 

“What is this place?” You asked, stepping closer to Alastor, taking shelter in his side. Your fingers wrapped around his jacket, letting the feeling of the rough wool ground you. 

Alastor chuckled, letting his arm trail from around your shoulders. His palm ran across your shoulders and his fingers trailed down your arm before he let his fingers just hook into the palm of your hand as he stepped away.

The thunder of your pulse in your ears was deafening as you looked up at him questioningly. Was he really doing what you had thought he was trying to do? Holding hands was something young courting couples did, not the male friend of a married woman. 

But sneaking out into the night with their male friend behind their husband’s back also wasn’t what married women did. 

You let his fingers slip into your palm, wrapping your fingers around his hand as his smile brightened a little more. He said nothing of your acceptance of him, but it was written clearly on his face. 

You loved him, you realized, and whatever you were doing with him was far from innocent. But that was alright, you told yourself, as long as it stayed just like this. As long as it stayed your little secret, was it really any worse than the wives whose heads lived in clouds formed by romance novels hidden behind their cook books?

He pulled you through the sea of boxes, dust swirling around him as he lead the way, reflecting the dim light in a sea of sparkles. It made him look warm and inviting, a sin you told yourself it was alright to just get a taste of.

“It is just through the storeroom,” Alastor said as he pulled you along, unaware of the vision he was in your eyes or the warring realizations in your head and heart. “I didn’t want anyone to see us, so I set up a surprise.”

No, this wasn’t right. You needed to stop whatever it was you were doing with him. It was going to lead you to damnation, to ruin. And you would, you decided as he looked forward again, letting you shamelessly take in the way his fluffy hair moved with him. 

You would put a stop to this but, what harm could come from just one more evening with him? You were already there, hand in his and music building as he led you through the sea of boxes. 

What’s one more evening?

[mummybear]

My Brother's Best Friend - Chapter 7 - The Mating

Words - 4034

Warnings: Swearing, Mating, Smut, P IN V, Oral (Female Receiving), Dirty Talk, Possessive Stiles, Protective Stiles, Marking, Biting, Think That's everything.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Reader/You/Sadie, Mentions Of Alan Deaton, Liam Dunbar, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Mellissa McCall, Scott McCall.

A/N: Hey guys, Sorry about the wait, I'm still really struggling with writers block but I had a few productive days and managed to finish this chapter and start something new for Dean, so we're getting somewhere at least! Hope you're all good and enjoy this! :)

Please do not copy my work or anyone else's. I have had more than enough of that the past few years, please try writing for yourself. Thank you.

Chapter 7 - The Mating

There’s an amazing softness beneath you, when you slowly become aware of your surroundings. It also happens to be when a sudden desperate whimpering from beside you pulls you all of the way out of any remaining sleepiness. You keep your eyes shut, all too aware of the unbearable thumping in your head. However, when you feel someone brushing the hair from your forehead, you can’t help but lean into the familiar touch immediately. Moaning contentedly when those same fingers skim your bare shoulder, your eyes snap open though when your skin practically sizzles on contact. You very quickly realise you’re face to face with Stiles, and his eyes flare purple. 

Once you manage to centre yourself, you can feel the worry rolling off of him in waves, almost as if it were your own emotion, though you’re starting to find it a little easier to tell the difference between your own feelings and his.

“Stiles, what’s wrong?” you whisper, your voice a little hoarse from sleep as you roll your body into his. 

Stiles remains silent as he reaches over to grab a bottle of water from the bedside table, almost like he’s trying to lean away from you. He doesn’t answer either, he merely responds to you in one worded grunt as he hands you the bottle. 

“Drink.” 

You roll your eyes but take the bottle from him, swigging a little of the liquid, all too aware of his eyes as they start to burn a hole into the side of your head.

“There, are you happy now? Bossy,” you snap a little annoyed with his attitude.

“Not yet. Eat,” he replies, softly but firmly with a sigh, handing you a sandwich before he runs his long fingers through his hair once again. 

Stiles helps you sit up and get as comfortable as you can, which is for some reason particularly difficult. Before finally leaving the room. You sigh to yourself as you start eating, settling back against the pillows, doing your best not to read too much into his actions or the silence that fills the moments. Clearly he’s worried, which you can understand, all things considered. So you try to rest while you eat. Though, you’re really hoping he won't be long in returning. 

You rest back against the pillow after placing the plate on the side. Grabbing the pillow from beside you, the one that Stiles had been using, so that you can hold it close and inhale his scent. 

You let out a needy whine as the need to have Stiles mate with you returns, like a burning wildfire, and you moan as your hips roll against nothing. Biting your lip hard as you breathe out a shuddering breath. Running your fingers through your hair while trying to get your breathing under control. 

You’d only ever experienced this extreme longing once before, earlier today, in Deaton’s office. 

Right before Stiles had to be physically ripped away from you and you were practically dry humping him in front of everyone. You stare at your closed door, fingers tightening in the sheets beneath you, as your breathing quickly becomes more rapid. Pulling off the duvet so that the cool air can soothe your naked body, you can feel the heat as it rolls away from you. Your chest heaves when you hear the floorboards creaking just outside your bedroom, your hearing like all of your other senses are on high alert. Your door creaks open and his scent hits you like a truck. You let out a shuddering breath as your legs drop open.

Stiles walks into the room unbuttoning his jeans as he makes a few long strides towards the bed, his eyes locked on your body.

“Do you need anything else?” Stiles questions you stiffly, as he tosses his t-shirt across the room.

“Just you, I’m so beyond ready for you.” You reply in a breathless moan, licking your lips as he pulls off his jeans and boxers, leaving him completely bare.

He fists his cock and pumps up and down a few times as he looks you over, a cocky smirk pulls at his lips, one you’d only seen on him a handful of times, as his eyes drop to look at your pussy, watching it drip just for him.

“Goddamn, that pussy is so fucking wet. You want this, baby girl?” he rasps, tugging at his cock as he kneels on the foot of the bed.

He crawls towards you on his hands and knees, and a shiver races up your spine.

“Is this really about to happen?” you whisper in awe as he stops between your spread legs. The awe of so many years waiting leaves you more than a little anxious, suddenly and your confidence slips slightly.

The smile that spreads across his lips is almost predatory, but you don’t mind being his prey, not even for a second.

“You bet your ass it is. About damn time too, if you ask me.” 

You grab his wrist as he reaches for your face and you look into his eyes, and he goes back to looking worried again.

“Stiles… Are you sure you want this? I know, we’ve talked about this a lot at this point. It’s just that I’ve known that I wanted you…and this, for years. You’ve only had a few days to decide, I don’t want you to wake up one day and resent me. This is forever… if we do this. I can’t stand the thought of you hating me,” you whisper, suddenly feeling vulnerable, you glance down at your hands now resting on his chest. You’re annoying yourself with your rambling, but you can’t have him coming to regret this one day.

“Sadie, look at me,” Stiles commands and it washes over you like a calming balm. Almost like he’s somehow controlling you with a gentle nudge of your chin, you lift your eyes to meet his eyes once more. He cups your cheek gently, “you won’t be able to understand this right now, but maybe one day you will, if you decide to become like me. This pull that I feel towards you isn’t completely sexual. Don’t get me wrong, there’s that part of me, a big part right now, that wants to claim you, possess you…” he growls out the last few words and you can’t help but smile when he shakes his head a little, like he’s clearing the fog. 

“Sorry,” he clears his throat, before continuing, “this will sound cheesy but you’re here,” he takes your hand and rests it over his heart. “I can feel you, it’s so deep rooted and pure, you centre me, you’re my other half. You make me feel more in control than I ever have.” 

“You’re cute when you ramble,” you can’t help but giggle as a tear slides down your cheek. You cup his cheeks, letting your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his head, you gently tug and he groans, letting his forehead drop down onto yours.

“Cute enough that you’re convinced?” he rasps against your lips, before he kisses away the tear.

You reach out and link his fingers with your own, letting them drop down either side of your head as you lay back, Stiles follows you, his forehead never leaving yours.

“Please, I’m ready,” you whisper against his lips.

“Whatever you want, my little Minx.” He rumbles, his voice like a caress in all of the right places. 

Right before his lips descend on yours, much more gently than you’d been expecting. Your fingers tighten their grip as Stiles lowers his body on top of yours, the feel of your skin pressed so tightly against his sends sparks across your skin. 

When he starts to nip at your collar bone you grip his body tightly. 

“No foreplay, Stiles. Please, I can’t wait anymore.” You whimper desperately clinging to his back, doing your utmost to pull him closer.

Stiles chuckles, softly brushing his fingers over your hip, “we can’t rush this too fast, at least let me make sure you’re ready for me.”

His tone is deep and husky, causing shivers to run over your entire body.

“Trust me, I’m ready.” You smirk at him as his lips brush the place his fingers have just left. You arch against the feeling.

“Hmm, let me check anyway. You can never be too sure,” he grins, forcefully tugging your legs over his shoulders, causing you to giggle as you run your fingers through his hair. 

He looks up at you and licks his lips, those chocolate brown eyes flashing purple for just a few seconds, before he dips his head and his tongue slowly laps at your clit. His fingers tighten on your thighs when you try to push into the feeling, desperate for more contact. You can’t hold in the whimper when he slides two fingers inside you, and his tongue starts to lap faster as he curls his fingers inside you.

Your muscles begin to clamp down around the intrusion as shivers race through your body. You give his hair a harsh tug, causing him to hiss against you, before a growl begins low in his throat. 

“Stiles, please!” You beg, continuing to claw desperately at anything you can reach as you feel the first flutters of your orgasm.

“Stay still, Mate.” Stiles growls his demand roughly, in a voice that no longer sounds like his own. He sucks on your clit a little harder and begins to scissor his fingers, before adding a third finger. You squeal at the tight fit, and throw your head back and grip the headboard behind you as you roll your hips against his onslaught. 

“Hold it. Don’t you dare come, little Minx. Save it for my cock.”

You squeeze your eyes shut tight and feel the blissful burn of your orgasm begin, right before Stiles pulls away completely. Your eyes snap open, anger burning through your veins until you watch him slip his fingers between his lips, sucking the taste of you from them as his other hand wraps around his thick cock and strokes it with firm tugs.

“Naughty girl,” he smirks, releasing himself and dropping so his body covers yours with his hands either side of your shoulders. You feel his cock nudging at your entrance and you whimper, arching your back, desperate for him to fill you and mark you as his. 

You bite your lip and nod at him as you hook a leg over his hip, and you both groan in unison when the bulbous head of his cock nudges at your entrance.

“Look at me,” he whispers softly as he gets down on his elbows and his lips graze yours.

Your mouth drops open and you suck in a deep breath, as the head of his cock is pushed inside of you, his thumb grazes your bottom lip and he licks his own lips as he pushes inside a little further.

“Oh god, Stiles,” you whine, throwing your head to the side and offering him the side of your neck.

“Mmmm, such a good girl. Your pussy is so fucking tight, fits like a glove, baby girl.” He withdraws almost all of the way, before slowly pushing forward and filling you a little more than the first time. You can hardly breathe, lost in a state of ecstasy, as his lips brush soft kisses along your neck. He licks over the place he wants to mark you several times, and you feel his rumble of pleasure before you hear it.

The pain is ebbing away and you're starting to feel more pleasure than you thought was possible, you hook your other leg over Stiles’ other hip and dig your heels into his firm ass. Stiles practically snarls as he snaps his hips forward fully filling you, before you can comprehend what’s happened an orgasm rips through you, one so powerful you almost don't feel his fangs and teeth as they sink into your neck as a possessive rumble fills the room. You don’t realise you’ve screamed until you hear banging at your bedroom door.

Stiles gently pulls away, seemingly uncaring of the shouting at the door as he laps at the mark on your neck, practically purring like a kitten as his hips begin moving, with long and deep thrusts. 

“Fuck off!” You half shout, half moan. 

Your fingers sink into the skin of his back as he bares his neck to you. You don’t even know if it will work if you mark him as human, but when you look at his skin you could swear you see the perfect place to bite him, almost as if it’s calling to you. 

Stiles moans as you lap at the skin, inhaling deeply before you sink your own teeth into his neck, groaning at the taste. You feel him shudder above you as he releases inside you. Before his knot latches inside you tightly, locking him with you for the next few minutes at least. You smile to yourself as you lick at the mark you’ve left behind briefly, hearing the contented noises of your mate. Stiles pulls the sheets over your bodies as he curls protectively around you.

“Mine. My Mate.” 

You giggle as he squeezes you tightly and nuzzles your mark once more, kissing it softly, before he buries his face in your hair and slips a leg between yours. Almost as if he needs as much skin touching as possible. He wraps his arms around you and you sigh as the rightness of the situation settles over you. Snuggling back against his chest, you can feel his pride at being your Mate and you can’t help but grin.

“Thank you for waiting for me, I’m sorry I took so long, Minx,” he whispers almost sadly.

“I would’ve waited forever for you, Stiles Stilinski,” you reply just as quietly, wrapping your arms around the arm you can reach. 

“Now sleep,” you rasp feeling the tiredness already catching up with you.

Next Morning

You wake with a start, a moan tearing from your lips as Stiles laps at your clit, before he sucks it between his lips with a rumbling moan. You let out a squeak when your door starts to slowly open, feeling Stiles chuckling against you, but he refuses to move no matter how much you push at his head. In fact, he makes matters worse by gripping your thighs tightly and pushing them wide. You bite your lip hard when he doubles his efforts, and Liam comes into view. 

Suddenly Stiles moves, his body so quick to cover yours and he glares at the man currently in the doorway.

“Mine. Don’t look at her. Get the fuck out, now.” He snarls in a voice similar to the one he used on you yesterday, it almost reminded you of an Alpha voice, but surely that couldn’t be right. 

Liam flinches, but you had to give him his due, he held his ground and instead of leaving he dropped his eyes to look at your floor. 

“Stiles, stop it. He knows who I belong to, baby. Breathe,” you murmur calmingly, carefully stroking his cheek, as he moves his eyes to yours and leans into your touch. He huffs and moves just slightly to rest his head against your chest.

You can’t help but whimper when his cock nudges at your entrance, “what do you want, Liam?” you ask shakily, since you're sure whatever reason he’s in here must be important. From what you understood, mated couples shouldn’t be disturbed for the first few days of mating. 

Liam seems to swallow hard, “Scott was worried after yesterday, he wanted me to check if you two needed food or anything? Especially with how bad Sadie was yesterday.” He practically whispers, seemingly only addressing Stiles.

‘Is this fucker trying to say I can’t look after my mate.’ 

“Nobody is saying that, Stiles,” you sigh, softly running your fingers through his hair.

Stiles suddenly sits up, still covering you but he stares at you shocked, and by the look on Liam's face something strange had just happened, something that you’d clearly missed. Maybe it was a werewolf thing.

“Thanks Liam, we’ll be out in a minute,” Stiles whispers brokenly as he continues to stare at you in awe.

Liam leaves, and Stiles is beginning to make you nervous as you watch each other silently.

‘Can you hear me?’ Stiles asks and you gasp in shock, because although you hear his voice as clear as day his mouth didn’t move. 

“What’s happening?” you ask, suddenly extremely worried. 

“I didn’t say any of that outloud, Baby. Deaton did say this was possible. He told me, right after you passed out, but he also said it would only happen after you became like me. We have a mindlink baby, you can hear what I’m thinking and I can hear you.” 

“Wait, what? That’s a thing?” you question in confusion, considering you’d never heard your brother speak of such things before.

“It’s extremely rare. Usually it’s unheard of, I guess my mystical ass got a few extra perks,” he grins at you wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You giggle then suddenly you wonder ‘can he hear you?’

“Oh I can hear you, dirty girl. Want me to finish what I started?” he growls as his cock is pushed slowly back inside you.

You cry out in pleasure when he begins to thrust hard and fast, as if from nowhere and without any warning your body reacts instantly. You shiver as your body quickly heats at the sudden invasion, but he moves his fingers to your clit and begins circling the small tight bundle of nerves in firm circles, in time with his movements.

Stiles groans when you suddenly stop him, with a gentle hand on his chest, he’s reluctant to stop but he rolls onto his back. Especially once he realises what’s happening. He quickly helps you sit up, managing to keep his cock still buried deep inside you, so that you can’t help but whimper at how he’s somehow so much deeper at this angle. His eyes lock on yours as you get comfortable, and the connection between you sizzles like a live wire.

“Take it slow, Baby, you’re so fucking hot and I’m so damn deep, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You worry too much, Stiles, we were made for each other. I can more than handle you,” you moan out as you rest your hands on his chest and give an experimental roll of your hips, letting your nails dig into his skin, enjoying the way his grip tightens on you. Feeling a mix of pleasure and pain smash into you as you angle your hips just right. Arching your back as you continue to move, you try to push through it, keeping your eyes locked on Stiles’.

“Fuck you’re sexy, so damn beautiful.”

Your pussy starts to flutter and clamp down tightly around him at his words, “good girl, right there,” Stiles groans, his eyes locked on yours. You bite your lip and keep up your pace, feeling as though your body has a mind of its own as you chase your orgasm. Stiles grips your ass roughly with his long fingers, as he slams his hips up to meet yours and you still can’t quite believe how deep he is.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is intoxicating, as Stiles sits up wrapping your hair around his fist, tugging until your back arches and your breasts push out. He quickly latches onto one of your nipples and gives a firm suck, softly dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh when you let out another loud cry of pleasure. Your orgasm is so close, that when he pulls away from your breast and presses his face in your neck and drags his nose over your claiming mark you violently shiver.

You rake your nails over his chest as he bites into your newly marked skin, lapping at it forcefully, causing your pussy to clench around him and more slick to run down his length. He pulls back to watch as both of your breathing increases, “My Alpha, please, gonna come,” you all but squeak, watching him closely as his eyes glow purple.

‘Mmm, I can feel it,’ he purrs inside your head, before you know what's happened he flips you both, so you're trapped beneath him. Getting up on his knees, he grips your thighs and pushes your legs back against your body. Forcing himself so much deeper than before, you practically scream as an orgasm rips through your body, Stiles’ fingers dig into your skin as your eyes fly open to lock onto his once more, feeling as his knot begins to catch inside you.

‘Your eyes are purple’ Stiles states with so much emotion, you feel tears begin to form in your eyes and you don’t know why.

Stiles lets out a growl as he finally knots you and you feel his warmth push inside you, he carefully releases your legs and you let them drop to the bed as Stiles’ body covers yours. Your chests heave against one another as he lays in your arms.

“Once we catch our breaths we should probably go down and speak to everyone, at least for a little while,” you whisper regretfully, hearing him let out a huff of annoyance. 

“Fine. Although, just to be clear I would love nothing more than chaining you to this bed and fucking you all day,” he rasps, kissing your sensitive flesh of your mark.

“Trust me, I would let you. But we need to make sure everything is okay. I don’t think they would interrupt just because Scott was concerned I hadn’t eaten,” you whisper running your fingers through his hair softly.

“You’re probably right, but please stay close, Minx. I don’t know how I’ll react to unmated males being near you at the minute, but I could guess.”

You carefully push his head up, so his eyes meet yours once again, “just try and remember, I’m wearing your mark, though even if I wasn’t, I have no interest in anyone who isn’t you.” You promise gently cupping his cheek. Stiles softly kisses your lips as he slowly pulls out, and you can’t help but let out a noise between a gasp and a whimper at the feeling.

“Sore?” he asks softly, you can hear the concern, but you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up because he sounds very pleased with himself right now.

He sits up carefully with a shit eating grin plastered to his face, “shut up,” you laugh finally sitting up yourself. You take his undershirt which he hands you, before you pull on a fresh pair of painties and some loose fitting pants.

Stiles tosses on his plaid shirt and pulls up his underwear and jeans, tugging you to his side before you can leave, he wraps his hand around yours. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then you leave the safety of your room, doing your best not to wince with every step. When you come to the bottom step your mother and Scott are just walking inside, before you can go to hug them, Stiles pulls you back to him as Liam stands to help them with the groceries. 

You turn to look at him, finding those purple eyes glaring at everyone who isn’t a family member, “Stop it. You know I’m safe here.”

Stiles snaps his eyes to yours and shakes his head, and you can feel everyone's eyes on the two of you.

“It’s not them. None of them. Someone’s close, someone who doesn’t belong.” 

Everything happens so fast, Stiles locks eyes with Scott and sure enough you watch as your brother’s eyes begin to glow that deep red.

Stiles moves to stand by Scott, handing you off to Lydia and Allison. Liam steps in front of you as your mother stands beside you all.

“Stay here,” Scott and Stiles whisper in unison, moving as one to head out the front door.

Tags: @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @lilulo-12 @charmed-asylum @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @akshi8278 @peaches007 @stylesismyhubs @peachyyybabyy @fantasy-myth1 @death-unbecomes-you @coffeebooksandfandom @magssteenkamp @screamxqueenx94 @brien-odylan @riseandshinelittleblossom @ceceliaking-18 @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @missindecision @deans-number-one-fan @onethirstyunicorn @flintthegoodboyo @ilovewriting06 @sexualtensiongrowing @you-dont-know-me-got-it

[nthspecialll]

You are literally the best rdr account ever fr, your rants are not biased at all and i love it. Because some ppl rly should drop their ranting bcs it's obvious that they are more talking about their imagination about that character than actual facts.

I am so glad you think so because I sometimes noticed that too. From time to time it feels like people have an idea of a character and try to make the game fit around that rather than actually make the game sculp the character. That sounded very messy so: They make the evidence try to fit the result they want rather than letting the evidence form the result. And to be honest I think that is a little... Well offensive to the developers?

I am a writer, I write books and if someone tried to discard part of a character I spent years making because they felt like it, I think I would get annoyed, I even get annoyed reading it. Like it is fine if it is just jokes ya know? Like "Kieran is just a baby" as a joke but also being able to see that there is so much more to him, that is fine, but if you just refuse to acknowledge that there is more... No.

Another thing is glorification, I do not like people glorifying characters, again not as a joke, I think it is like ignoring a whole part of the character, the "mean" part of the character. Take Javier, I love Javier, he has so many nice and sweet sides, but I also know he is an asshole in chapter 6, that said I know people are not assholes for no reason, I know Javier had a reason to act the way he did. Do I think him acting like an asshole is a-okay? No, but I also know that there is nuance to it.

I have also seen it the other way around, where people make a character worse than they are? Like especially the women of the game, but also Javier and Bill. Again, dismissing part of a character that someone has put sweat, tears and blood into is not okay.

Media literacy is also a massive thing in this game because it is a historically accurate game in so many ways, and again, people who intentionally dismissive it because "Oh I wouldn't do that" are blind to history, because of course you wouldn't, you grew up in modern days with modern ideals and you got internet to educate yourself outside of whatever ideals and things were put into your head by those immediately around you.

I always strive to get as much information about characters as I can, to show both sides and to find out why do characters do what they do even if I don't agree with it. I remember when I learned that Javier did in fact point his gun at John and I at first got annoyed but then I caught myself and was like "that is fucking stupid ignoring it, face it and find out why."

To clarify, I am not shitting on people making jokes about characters, I do it too, nor am I shitting on people who does not have all information (I am not telling them to go research everything and "oh they must know every small detail to even speak about this character"), I am not shitting on people who have different opinions on characters, I am shitting on the people who chose to ignore parts of characters because that fits their narritive.

These characters are wildly deep and complex, allow them to be, and I know some people are going to say "oh that is so dramatic" and maybe, but that is my opion and if you don't agree just scroll, I am not forcing you to be here.

If you read all that, thank you! Here is a pic of Javier because I love him:

[daycourtofficial]

I’ve spent the past two days binge reading Can’t Bring Myself to Hate You by @tadpolesonalgae and please I am BEGGING you all to read it it’s so so so good. This characterization of Azriel is so interesting. This take on a fourth Archeron sister is so good and so unique. Every chapter I think I know what’s going to happen with the story and I am wrong just about every time.

Tabby conveys emotion and self-loathing in such a real way. The way she gets lost in her head but the world keeps going around her is so well done. Everything about this series is well done and exquisite.

I’m trying to keep from spoiling but this series is very angst heavy and please check the warnings as you go because it can get pretty heavy, but OH BOY. It’s quite a ride please strap in 🙏🏻

Tabby is such a talented writer and this fic series has just blown me away. 💛

[k3n-dyll]

I think the reason toxic!Au's have such a bad reputation to a lot of people is because often times people just blatantly mischaracterize the subject of the AU beyond the point of recognition.

I personally don't gaf about most mischaracterizations (as long as you aren't trying to pose them as canonical fact). People can have fun and be silly if they want to, Hell - I'm sure I've written some characters a bit out of character at times for the sake of joy and whimsy - BUT - I think with toxic!AU's specifically a lot of authors love to default into making that character a genuinely bad and toxic person and in doing that they strip any complexity away from an otherwise very complex character. Like, most well-written characters have some bad traits that could potentially get them in relationship troubles with friends, family, romantic partners, etc, and instead of exploring those actual traits SOME writers go straight to taking the person completely out of character and it's just a turn off for a lot of readers who love the media to read about a character with so many different and intertwining qualities be dumbed down to being jealous and mad all the damn time (bonus if the toxicity is 'solved' with sex)

[velaryoncoffee]

There's something so interesting about the timing of Book!Helaegon's children's birth that says so much with so little.

They had Jaehaera and Jaehaerys within a year of their wedding. This means they were very sexually active together around this time! You could argue it's done out of duty, sure, but Aegon reads like someone very prone to his whims and emotions, much like in the show. This might mean they were/grew passionate for each other around this time or maybe before?

Perhaps the anticipation of their wedding made them spend more time with each other, initially out of obligation, and later from fondness. Or maybe the interest they had in each other compounded over the years, like a subtle slow burn that erupted on their wedding as they realised they were bonded for life, not only in blood but also by the law of the land.

However, my favourite detail has to be the timing of Maegor's birth.

You're telling me that Helaena gave birth 9 months after Jace asked to dance with her at Viserys's family dinner? The one that had Aegon so pissed?

The possessiveness is real. You know the sex that night was wild.

Aegon will not share his beloved sister with anyone. And he'll fuck a son into her womb on their marriage bed for all to see.

If Helaena's defense of Aegon's seat on the Throne is anything to go by, she might be defensive and fond of him just the same. She doesn't come off as someone with any sense of political ambition to ascend as the Queen whatsoever; if anything she asked Blood and Cheese to take her life instead of her children's. From where I stand all she wanted was to live happily with her family, and her husband having his birth right (as contentious as it may be) was included in that vision.

Again, you could interpret any of this in many ways, in bad faith especially. Aegon could be misusing his power as a husband to impose himself on her, and her sense of responsibility, passivity and sensitive nature could have led her to go along with whichever wishes he could have had.

However I personally don't believe that was GRRM's thought process as he wrote those pages. The show depicted Aegon doing many terrible things and it tainted his already flawed character beyond even what the show writers intended. Also Alicent would never allow any harm to come to her little girl. Of that, I am 100% sure.

[greenerteacups]

Hello GT, I absolutely love Lionheart!

I published my first fic and have been dealing with some criticism; it’s not anythjng super hateful, but it’s not anything meant to make me improve either. I’ve been feeling sort of down because of it. My question is: have you ever dealt with hate or criticism before? What is your attitude towards it?

I find your work and answers on here super insightful and inspiring! I hope you have a nice day ❤️

Fuck em. Like, seriously, just fuck em. There's a time and place for writers to take critique and be strict with themselves; it's necessary for any artist to grow. That place is with a chosen group of creatives whose work you admire and whose judgment you trust. A rando on the Internet, while they may in fact be the next Marcel Proust, probably isn't. And I was raised to believe that while it's appropriate and kind to pay compliments to strangers when they're performing — just as you'd smile at a busker on the sidewalk, and or compliment a chalk artist — it's not appropriate to criticize them when what they do isn't to your tastes. They're providing you with their art for free. No one forced you to read it; no one forced you to listen. If you don't like it, it costs $0 to shut the fuck up.

Also — that thing I said about artists taking critique? That assumes that you're doing this out of a desire to improve your writing, which, while noble, is not actually a thing you need to do if you're a hobby writer. I like trying to improve; it makes me feel good. But at the end of the day, I do this for fun. I do this because in my real job, I am ruthless and self-critical and try really fucking hard to do well, and you need parts of your life that Aren't Like that. You need parts of your life where you're not worrying about whether you're Doing It Right. And living without that anxiety of critique is, paradoxically, the only way you'll find the artistic courage to take risks and develop new skills. Everyone is a little bit rough around the edges to begin with. (Not saying you're a beginner — you merely said "publish," and I certainly wrote a lot of things before I started publishing! But every artist is always trying to develop new skills and techniques; in the grand scope of things, we're all beginners.) Giving someone blunt critique when they're in the beginning phases of their journey as an artist is about as helpful as screaming at your six-year-old kid because he can't swim the butterfly.

And the thing is, these people will bluster and say "well, I'm just being honest, I'm just trying to be helpful," but like: mmmmmmno, you're not! You're not. And it's disingenuous to say so. Because if you were actually trying to be helpful, you would introduce yourself, offer your skills as an editor/beta reader, and start building the relationship of trust that grounds any meaningful co-creative partnership. People do not just accept random critique that comes flying at them from the blue nowhere. And issuing it in that form is the best way to make them hostile, defensive, and unreceptive to it. Delivering harsh feedback without a context of care and support is almost sure to fail as a method of actually changing behavior, and either (1) you know that, and are doing it anyway — presumably because you want people to know how Terribly Clever and Better At Writing you are, or (2) you sincerely have never thought about the effect that context and word choice have on how other people receive your meaning.

Which tells me you are the last fucking person on the planet I want writing advice from.

[demonsslayersstuff]

Goodbye (Gojo x Reader)

A/N: This a reposting. I was having some issues with my blog for the past few weeks, so I will be doing some reposting.

A/N: I’m in a Gojo mood apparently. Anyway Jujitsu Kaisen Manga Spoilers, so keep that in mind before reading. Bit angsty cause I’m just in that mood. Thanks for reading! As I’ve said before I’ve been having a bit of a writers block so I’m not sure when I’ll post again, but I’m leaning towards Demon Slayer for the next one.

The room was silent that morning. Aside from the steady breathing off to your left, there was no noise. You glance at the clock and your heart freezes at the date, December 24th. It was the day you had dreaded for the past month.

But time moved forward as it always does, no matter how much you pleaded to a nonexistent god to stop it. You can feel tears gather in your eyes, but you push them away. You had already said your goodbyes last night, mapped out each other’s bodies for the most likely the last time.

You hear a deep intake of breath and know that he’s waking up. Gojo’s blue eyes open and lock onto your own. The two of you stare at each for a moment as the reality of what day it was washes over him. “Love”, he starts but you shake your head. “Please, I don’t want to cry, not now”, you tell him quietly. He hums in response before moving to kiss you deeply, arms wrapping tightly around you, crushing you against him.

The two of you dress quietly, preparing for what was about to happen. You look out the window and briefly wonder if this will be the last morning you’ll ever get to spend in this room. You watch as a bird flies past the window before you feel Gojo wrap his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I never appreciated this view as much as I should have”, he murmurs against your neck.

You turn around to fully face him, knowing it was going to be last time the two of you spent alone together. “Satoru”, you start quietly. He looks down at you, giving a soft smile of encouragement. “Words can’t describe the happiness you have given me. I just want you to know that…no matter what happens, I will always love you”, you tell him. His eyes soften and he pulls you into a tight embrace. He holds you in his arms before there’s a light tap on the door.

He cups your cheek, “It’s time”, he simply says. You greet Utahime at the door, before the three of you begin the descent down the stares. Your students and various sorcerers look up at you and Gojo, empathy and respect reflected in their eyes. Yuji is the first to break the tension, “Sensei, your technique is in the way”, he shouts. You watch as Gojo gives him a large smile before he says , “Give it your best shot”, with a smile on his face. He always put his students needs first.

Everyone makes the trek into the city as silence befalls the group. The full weight of what was about to happen evident on everyone’s faces. You watch as Gojo goes to stand with Ijichi, Utahime, and Gakunganji. The time was finally here. You walk up to Gojo for the finale time, staring up into his eyes as tears gather in your eyes. The others look away, giving you a bit of privacy. You feel Gojo’s fingers brush the tears away that silently fall on your cheek.

“You have what I gave you in case I-“, he starts but you cut him off, not wanting to hear those words fall from his lips. “Yes”, you say, voice cracking. “I love you, I will always love you. I will find you again if I have to, I promise”, Gojo says, voice full of emotion. You nod your head before he pulls you into a crushing kiss. You thread your fingers through his hair, as his hands grip your waist tightly.

He ends the kiss after someone coughs politely, but you don’t let him go just yet.  You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “Get our son back”, you tell him before letting him go. You see determination flash across his face. “I will”, Gojo says before he kisses you one finale time.

You watch as the group takes the stairs to the top of the building. Gojo pauses at the top for just a moment before turning to look at you. He gives you his signature smile and a second later he’s gone. “Goodbye Toru”, you whisper before heading to join the others as the battle begins.

[megumisgirl]

furtrated tears megumi x fem! (writer/poet) reader

when a day shines so brightly it blinds you, and causes you to sheild your eyes from the light, you know you started your day right. you get up early, do a little work-out, or read a book, take some time to yourself before you study, exams are near and you need to prepare. you can't focus, your head isn't in the right space.

you let yourself go. you feel yourself slipping away from the grasp of reality. you rely on a coping mechanism, try to find something to push yourself to the max. find something, anything to think that you are good enough. something that you know you can do and you know you can excel at. something that will not make you cry and sob and punch the wall.

but... is it enough?

the sound of typing makes the raven haired boy snap his neck at your direction. your eyes were focused on your laptop, headphones covering your ears as a thick straw sat in between your lips. that overly sweet pearl drink you always have wet your throat as you tried to finish of your book. you were down to the last chapters. and that's when it hit.

your typing slowed down before eventually stopping. you chewed on the straw, the pearly balls popping in your mouth as you nervously tapped your nails on the table. "what rhymes with 'odyssey'?" you asked out, making megumi turn his head to look at you once again. he hummed softly, looking over at your laptop. he could only see the white of the google docx and the title, with the tiny letters only writing one line. the caret blinking continuously.

"uh.. i don't know," he shrugged, "pussy rhymes with odyssey." he said, making you blow through your cheeks as you turned to look at him. hopeless. you stared at him blankly as he sighed softly, "what? i'm just kidding." he said, before getting off the bed with a small grunt and walking up to you. his hands went to your shoulder, pressing on them with his weight as he tried to ease some tension. "leave that be," he said.

"i can't!" you groaned, "i need to finish it before-" your voice was loud and almost in a tone as if you two were fighting.

"leave that be," he repeated, his voice calmer and composed. he watched you as you buried your face into your hands. "stop stressing about it. if you force yourself to get ideas it will never come," he said, moving all your hair from your back to one of your shoulder, "just take a small break," he whispered, kissing the nape of your neck before pulling your chair back and turning it around so you were facing him. "what do we say?"

you sighed softly, feeling embarrassed to be babied like this but also liking a part of it. but at the same time frustration did not go easy. writer's block was messing your mind. days after days you sat in front of your laptop, staring at the blinking caret, hoping it would move by itself and write a masterpiece but it doesn't. and it was exhausted. "i don't care what we say." you sighed, "i need this to be finished, it's-" your voice got slightly heavier, cracking as you closed your eyes and buried your face on your hands once again.

"oh, baby." megumi sighs, kneeling in front of you as his hands went to your thighs. the touch wasn't sensual, it was soft and sweet and caring. he took your hand in his, brining it away from your face to see your glossy eyes and cheeks. kissing your knuckles he softly spoke again, "you're a great writer. it shows in the way you talk and in the way you see the world. if you hit a little wall you can't just break down like this, butterfly." he sighed, his words gentle and sweet.

"just keep on going. i'm sure you'll find something better to write about," he said, wiping your tears away as he stood up, his hand going under your chin to make you look up at him. "you're so tired, aren't you, angel?" he asked, sighing softly. his heart broke for his little girl. how could he be so cruel to not see everything she was going through? what kind of a boyfriend was he? "let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice sweet and caring.

"let me take care of you and your sweet little pussy, yeah?"

nsfw

in minutes you were sprawled on the bed, your skirt pooling around your waist as he buried his face in between your legs. his tongue lapped at your folds, taking in each and every drop that came out of you. his breath fanned against your skin, creating a ticklish sensation as you whined softly, your eyes closing as your hands went to his hair. he looked up at you, face contorted in pleasure as he pulled away.

when he thought you were wet enough, he took you so well. it wasn't rushed, or aggressive, or rough. it was smooth and slow and loving. enough to clear your head and give you some great inspiration. he took you in missionary first, eyes locked, whispering the sweetest things known to man and then matting pressing, watching his cock disappear inside you with each thrust and finally ending it with hugging you close and kissing your forehead, cuddling you as good as one can.

you were very clear headed from then.

writer's note:

hello !! thank you so much for having the patience with me and waiting for so long. i think i last posted here a year ago? and i am genuinely sorry for leaving without any trace.

one of the reason was the lack of use of this app for me. i'm not that active in the tumblr community per say. i mean, i just write, post, read other blogs and leave the website. i do have one or two friends from here and i genuinely adore them! but still i just don't find the time to get back here for some reason. but i will try to be consistent from now on.

second reason was for my exams. i am a cambridge student and i have a TON of responsibilities right now since my o-levels just finished and my AS and A2 are coming up. if you're a cam student hmu cuz i need tips on how to pass fr. but yeah, it's a lot of pressure and i'm just super exhausted guys.

anyways, sorry for venting. i really needed that lol. but i hope u liked this promt!!!! it's an old draft i rewrote and i kinda like it :3 hope u enjoy it! comment any criticisms you have; this is a critique friendly blog! (don't do it, i will cry.)

divider from @schizsou !!

[justatypicalwizard]

Writers and publishers of physical books should take notes from internet smut writers.

I just read a smut fragment from the fic To Shape a Home by @kweenkatsuki-fics and dear Lord. It was perfect. It was like granny made dinner and put in the perfect amount of slightly silly, realistic, sweet, hot, feet kicking, passionate, gripping and beautifuly written. It was not too short, not too long. REALISTIC! I know I said it a second time but as an adult I hate seeing (no matter on paper or the internet) fake ass sex. I love seeing something that may happen, things that people can look up to and search because it's reachable, all the small imperfections that make intimacy intimacy. Fantasies and cool but creating unrealistic standards... I personally don't feel so well about it.

After reading the said beautiful chapter I thought about a series of paper books I've been reading latety - Brigertons. And all the sex scenes from them. They are laughable. They do not even crawl to the level of what I just randomly read on the internet. I feel this is a thing occuring so often. Idk if I pick books that just so happen to have shitty smut? There must be examples of ones that are good but where are they? Who hid them? And most importantly who agreed to publish the rest of the shit that I laid my eyes on?

How can people criticize internet smut and, at the same time, praise sex scenes that consist of (physically typed) "oh"s and "ah"s and weird names for a cock.

I am full of awe for people here who decide not to shy away from intimacy and actually master writing sex scenes. I hope one day I'll also be able to write such beautiful scenes and stories, not only smut ones but writing in general.

And ya'll run read To Shape A Home its FIRE

[ghouldtime]

Random Rant on Fanfic Pet Names

Let me say this is more me screaming into the great unknown because it's something that I KEEP seeing and it keeps irking me and causing me to cringe out of my skin. Putting it under the read more, it's just a rant mainly about the COD fandom, you're not missing anything if you don't read this

Disclaimer: I mean absolutely no hate to the writers who do this. Because you should be writing what makes YOU happy and what YOU like to write. Writing is unique and independent to each individual and just because I don't like something doesn't mean that it's inherently bad or shouldn't be done. You do you, you go on your own journey - just cause we both like hiking doesn't mean we have to take the same trail or that one path is better than the other. Judging people like that who write different than you is nasty and policing harmless writing over little things is stinky sock sniffer behavior. Just cause it's my yuck doesn't mean it is everyone's and I don't expect everyone to agree with me nor is my point meant to be an objective truth or statement. It's literally just my feelings and I need to yell about it

The COD fandom in particular I've seen is atrocious for doing this. But I abhor when they make the characters use pet names like "pet" and "little girl" or "little boy".

Especially when they've literally JUST met

Every time I see it I immediately have to exit off the fic as I gag. I swear it's instinctive at this point. You know those videos of cats who do the extremely dramatic gagging when they smell something they slightly don't like? That's me. 110%

It comes up and I look at the page like this

It just feels so so gross to me and has this icky undertone that I cannot stand. And I don't know if I'm reading into it too much or if this is just me a me thing but I swear to any gods above this keeps happening. It's done so much I have tried putting filters on specifically to avoid it

It strikes me as so odd??? Like why that out of everything. Why something emphasizing age/maturity or treating the reader like they're a possession when it's a regular ass fanfic.

It makes my skin crawl and the possessive/dismissive undertones there are NOT cute. It always reads as ignoring reader's autonomy and treating them more like an object or thing instead of a person. When they just met too or the relationship really doesn't call for it or where it would be weird, it's just shoehorned in and I reallllly really really hate it oh man.

Like if it's established and is a fic where it's like "hey, this is what this is going to be! We're doing a nsfw/bdsm-y undertones here! That's the vibe!" Then great! Fantastic! That lines up, you're expecting that. Not when it's like a fluff fic or supposed to be super causal

I see this mainly with Ghost in fan fics. For some reason, he seems to be numero uno when it comes to calling reader "pet" as a form of endearment. I'm so sorry but I can't ever see him doing that. The guy who has extensive trauma with animals from his childhood, who would take an IMMENSE amount of time forming a close bond with someone to ever get into a relationship (following the comics for his history anyhow which is what I've seen most people do, Ghost has literally seen his family killed and has been through so so much trauma it's wild and the dude has a lot going on mentally), calling someone he cares about a pet??? I just don't see it happening. I sure as shit don't think he'd do that to near strangers either. Even if you ignored that past history for him or write Ghost different -that's just a flat out weird thing to call someone you don't know and has the implications of ownership/subservience on that person's part. Doing that to someone you REALLY do not know is insane

And the little girl/boy one used in conjunction with an age gap??? No??? That's just. So many shades of ew to me and is really putting emphasis on the wrong thing there (at least how I see it and in the context of the fic. I've never seen it used appropriately unless the reader is meant to be a literal child and it's a platonic fic. Context matters). ESPECIALLY when they emphasize reader is young (as in, barely legal, just turned 18/19 or heck even 20). Which I also keep seeing too when it is used. I'm not here for that reallllly creepy vibe that sounds like something you'd eventually hear about on Dateline or in a youtube exposé video

Like y'all. Anyone being shipped with them should be a grown ass adult because THEY are all grown ass adults. For me the little is never emphasizing size when paired with a gendered term, it's emphasizing how small their age is and that's wacky. Maybe that's just a me problem but when I hear "little girl" or "little boy", I'm thinking of a kid. Because girl/boy are most commonly used for children and when you're pairing it with little there, that's what you're emphasizing and you're practically guaranteeing that image.

Be real, if a guy you JUST met who you don't find attractive sneers and says, "Be quiet, pet." or "hush little girl/boy, " you wouldn't find that hot, you'd find that creepy. It's only excused because you're attracted to the character and find them hot. I'm picking a fight, I'm throwing hands if that's dropped on me in the real world out there. Probably not because I'm too non-confrontational but you bet im cringing and giving him the most:

look I can absolutely muster.

Maybe this is just a me thing and I'm losing my marbles. Or maybe it's the fact that I've had that happen to me where a dude I barely know called me "little girl/boy" (despite me being older?? and like the same height?????) and I just died on the inside viscerally that day

For the record if someone pulls the 'pet' card, I'm living up to it. I'm puking on the carpets somewhere in the dark at 3am, I'm yelling at the mailman and doorbells, I'm doing parkour off the couch when you're trying to sleep. Why the absolute hell are you calling someone you JUST MET that when it isn't even supposed to be that kinda nsfw fic.

It's one thing if the vibe is established and the tags are there and you know what you're getting into. But I lose my mind when it's a casual fluff or meant to be romantic and then all of a sudden, BAM THERE IT IS AGAIN.

It makes it so hard to read fics because it's like roulette, I swear I'm always suddenly hit with it and there goes my interest in trying again 🥲

To anyone who read this i admire your courage and akbwdbkawd im having a moment over here

(And hopefully everyone is having a snazzy day! 💚💚💚 my inbox is always open if you ever need to vent or need someone to talk to or want to join me yelling into the void)

Rant over,

Ghoul out