#filing this away in my brain to draw later

[kirnet]

phantom of the opera revan/exile au. is this anything

[banggyu0308]

Pretty Eyes... // Choi Yeonjun and Kang Taehyun 

requested

Choi Yeonjun x fem!reader x Kang Taehyun 

Summary: Yeonjun can’t help getting a filthy idea in his even filthier brain after you compliment his friend…

Genre: smut, fluff 

Warnings: art student reader, reader and Yeonjun are in an established relationship, voyeurism, threesome, dom Taejun x sub reader (except Yeonjun is more dom than Taehyun), use of pet names/nicknames (baby, pretty, kitten, love, Jun, Juni, Taehyunnie, Tae), at one point Yeonjun straddles the reader, very drowsy and soft at the beginning, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, blowjob, handjob, Taehyun jerks himself off, pussy slapping, overstimulation, degradation, Taehyun hits the readers face with his dick, slight bulge kink, creampie, breeding kink, tit sucking

Word count: 4.7k

A/N - this is my longest fic so far… 😭 

“Taehyunnie!! Come here, help me with this?”

You’re lugging in a few boxes of pizza, all for the sake of movie night with your boyfriend and his friends, and your arms are piled so high with them that you can barely see over it.

You’re unsure whether or not he heard you, when the top two boxes lift up and you’re met with a view of Taehyun’s face, smiling at you. “Thank you for the pizza,” he says, giving you an awkward side hug before leading you inside and to the dorm living room.

Yeonjun sees the two of you enter, hopping up from his spot on the couch with Beomgyu and taking the remaining boxes from you. “Hey baby,” he whispers, lips pressing a kiss to the spot below your ear before he sidles away, placing the boxes on the small table in front of the couch along with the boxes Taehyun had carried in.

You smile to yourself, plopping onto the couch with a sigh. Yeonjun sits down on the other side of you, arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Missed you…” he mumbles with a smile.

“It’s been three days, Jun, really?” You tease, fingers threading through his hair.

“Yeah, since I’ve seen you, but I missed you in other ways too…” His voice is quieter now, deeper too, dropping half an octave, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up…” you whisper, looking up at the ceiling as Soobin and Kai file into the room, settling on a movie with little to no argument, a new record.

You worm your way to snuggle against Yeonjun’s side, the movie playing, and as soon as it ends, Beomgyu, with his untamable energy, suggests you play a game.

“I’ve got a better idea… Y/N, why don’t you draw something for us?” Yeonjun suggests, eager to show you off.

Ever since you’d introduced him to your work a few weeks earlier, he’d been begging you to show the others just how talented you are. And here he’d found the perfect opportunity, you can’t resist the charming smile he sends your way.

You sigh. “Alright… who should be my first victim? I mean- muse.” You giggle at your own joke, taking a pencil and paper Soobin hands you.

“I nominate Taehyun,” Beomgyu says from his spot on the floor. “He’s got an easy face to draw…” he says the next bit with a lopsided grin on his lips, eyes on Taehyun. “… pretty plain.”

Taehyun rolls his eyes, but turns to you. “I’m up for it. If I'm the easiest.”

You study his face for a moment. “I don’t think your face is plain…” You sketch out a rough draft as you talk, then you look back up at him, making sure to take in the detail, the way his hair’s parted messily today, the pretty silver that comes from the washed-out blue catching the light. The way his eyes almost seem to sparkle when he grins at you, he really does have a gorgeous smile. 

But all you comment as you turn back to your drawing is, “you’ve got pretty eyes.”

You finish the outline sketch of your drawing a few minutes later, scrutinize it, and deem it worthy for others to view. Everyone applauds you and compliments your work, Yeonjun practically beaming as if he’d drawn it.

Then Beomgyu finally gets his way and you all play a few rounds of board games together, Taehyun still staring in awe at the drawing of him, the one you let him have. You can almost feel his shock radiating off of him, your cheeks hot, and you only realize how late it’s gotten after you finish Monopoly.

You stand quickly, gathering your things in a panic, but Yeonjun waves you off. “Just stay tonight? Please?”

You can’t argue with the look on his face, so eager, and sit down with a sigh. “Bedtime soon though. And I’m NOT sleeping on the couch.”

“10 minutes, promise, and you can sleep with me,” he decides.

20 minutes later, you’re practically falling asleep on the floor. “Gonna go to bed…” you mumble, half to yourself, and stand from your spot on the hardwood.

Yeonjun stands with you, following behind you as you head to his room after good nights to the other members. He lets you use his spare toothbrush, standing behind you and looping his arms around you in a back hug while you get ready.

You’re in practically the same position when you fall asleep, and Yeonjun swears to himself that if you weren’t so exhausted, he’d have taken you right then and there.

The next morning you find yourself in bed alone, the absence of Yeonjun’s warmth next to you making your heart hurt with disappointment… There was never anything better than waking up next to him, watching his eyelashes fan out over his cheeks as he sleeps, perfect, plump lips pulled in a pout, fingers still laced with yours under the covers.

He comes out of the bathroom a moment later, towel around his waist, hair wet from the shower, and you tuck yourself under the blanket. You just want him in bed with you, naked or not.

His eyes settle on you, a soft smile teasing the corner of his lips, you just look so cute, tangled up in the bedsheets, wearing an oversized shirt of his that fits you just how he likes. Yeonjun can’t help pulling on a fresh pair of boxers, sliding into bed next to you, slender frame fitting around yours perfectly. The bare skin of his torso presses against your arm and he exhales shakily when your fingers find the dip of his waist, pulling him closer to you.

With the blanket tucked up to his chin, all you can see of him is his neck, his face, and one smooth, exposed shoulder. The soft honey skin of his shoulder draws your attention and you place a gentle kiss to the dip above his collarbone. 

The touch of your lips makes his eyes flutter shut, and a small exhale of happiness leaves his parted lips. You were always more romantic in the morning.

Your fingertips still press into his waist and you drag him closer until his chest is flush against yours. Yeonjun leans his forehead against yours with a smile, then slides his face to the crook of your neck, nosing along your shoulder before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot where it meets your neck.

“The other members already left…” he mumbles against you, voice drowsy with content. 

The sound of his voice leaves you breathless, wide awake the moment his lips touch your skin. Somehow, in the seconds after you pressed his body to yours, his practically bare frame moved from beside you to almost on top, long legs on either side of yours. 

You raise your body up until your back is against the headboard, Yeonjun in your lap, his knees next to your hips, kissing you suddenly with his hands on your arms.

You comply when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, letting him taste you, a small smile on your face. A moment later, you feel him rut against your closed thighs, and a tingly, tightening sensation shoots its way down your back.

“Said the members are gone?” You whisper against his lips. He nods, hair falling in your face and tickling your cheek. You rake a hand through his hair gently, enjoying the silkiness of the strands between your fingers, then lick up the side of his neck before biting a dark, splotchy hickey into his skin.

Yeonjun sucks in a sharp breath. He moves so you’re flat on your back before slipping a hand up and under the shirt of his you’re wearing. 

“Looking so pretty in my clothes… can’t help wanting you all the time, it’s your fault,” he teases, leaving multiple love bites up your neck, tugging the shirt up and over your tits.

He lets out a soft exhale when your panties slide down your legs. “I swear, you look tastier than last time… pretty little cunt, all mine.” He hums against your neck, fingers tracing your pussy, spreading your slick around before slipping his fingers inside you. 

You whine a little at the feeling, reaching to run a hand over the waistband of his boxers. “Wan’ off…” you mumble, eyes shutting.

Yeonjun laughs, fingers looping under his waistband to tug them off.

Before he can, however, his phone rings.

Yeonjun scrambles to pick it up, ready to press dismiss, but the name listed on the Caller ID makes him divert his direction and accept it instead.

“Yeah? Okay, okay, we’ll work on it later, but come over? Just for a little… yes, and lock the door behind you.”

A few seconds later and he’s off the phone, a smile on his face when he looks back at you.

“Who was that?” You manage to mumble out, finger circling around your clit as your eyes shut.

“Gonna find out… Now come on baby, let me make you feel good…” Yeonjun peeks up at you from between your legs once he settles there, then presses a light kiss to your clit.

The contact makes your legs twitch, hand moving to the back of his head, and when his tongue flicks over your sensitive bud before delving between your folds, you press his head a little closer to your wet cunt.

You’re so intently focused on his tongue on your pussy that you don’t even hear the front door open and close. You do notice, however, when the door to Yeonjun’s room opens a crack. 

Your eyes fly open to meet Taehyun’s shocked gaze, pretty brown eyes wider than usual as he takes in your position.

You can only imagine how you look; Yeonjun practically naked, face buried in your cunt with his hands gripping your thighs, never stopping, even when Taehyun walks in, you on your back with your legs spread wide, shirt hitched up over your breasts.

His cheeks go pink and yours heat up, your eyes flicking down to the front of his pants. There’s a slight tent there that only grows bigger when you throw your head back again, moans leaving your lips as Yeonjun’s tongue laps at your clit.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother to turn and face Taehyun when he says, “go ahead and sit on the chair, Taehyun.”

Taehyun silently follows Yeonjun’s direction, sitting on the chair in front of the desk in the corner.

Yeonjun looks up at you from between your legs, a sly smile on his face. 

“You want Tae to watch you get wrecked by me with his pretty eyes, don’t you, love?”

Your eyes grow wider, but you nod quickly, looking over at Taehyun. He’s shifting in his seat, like he’s uncomfortable to even be here, but then you follow his eyes as he glances down at his pants, and you realize that his dick is practically straining at his jeans.

“Jun… Taehyunnie can touch himself, can’t he?” You ask tentatively, voice threaded through with the sounds of your pleasure as Yeonjun brings you closer and closer to your peak.

“Of course he can… probably wouldn’t be able to help himself, pretty pussy like yours on display.” He hums his response against you, and the vibration makes you gasp, the thread inside you pulled taut before snapping.

Your legs shake as you cum, hips bucking upwards into Yeonjun’s face, unintentionally bringing his tongue further inside you, and a little squeak bubbles up past your closed lips. 

You happen to glance over at Taehyun, lips parting in a small o shape when you see that he’s pulled his cock out of his pants, hand wrapped around his base. He stays frozen like that, looking at you, shirt pulled up just a little to expose his abs.

Yeonjun lightly taps your cheek to make you look at him, and when you switch your gaze to him, you find that he’s taken off his boxers, a small smirk tugging his lips when he strokes himself twice. His tip is dribbling precum down the side of his shaft, and he gently smears it over your thighs before rubbing himself along your slit. Yeonjun uses your slick to lubricate him before prodding your entrance with the head of his dick. 

“Is baby ready for my cock?” He coos teasingly, licking a line up the side of your neck.

You nod, hands bunching the sheets up. Yeonjun hums and slowly pushes himself in all the way, propping his body up to watch as he disappears inside you repeatedly.

You aren’t surprised when he helps you onto all fours, back arched and ass up in the air with your cheek against the pillow Yeonjun had been laying on the night before.

Your cheek rubs at the fabric, hips rocking back to his, and the way your face is buried against the sheets, you have a perfect view of Taehyun when he finally slides a hand up his dick, head rocking back momentarily before locking his eyes on yours again.

He looks big, as big as Yeonjun at least, and you can’t help but imagine how stuffed you’d feel with him inside you.

Yeonjun’s tip kisses your g-spot repeatedly and you feel your breath catch… it feels so good, and you can’t help but vocalize that, your voice a whimper.

“Wan’ Taehyun in my mouth…” you mumble a moment later, voice muffled by the sheets you bunch in between your teeth at the ecstasy coursing through your veins. “Wanna taste…”

Yeonjun tsks, pausing with just his tip in. “Say please, kitten.”

Just as you open your mouth to respond, hopefully coherently, his hand slips between your thighs to rub at your clit. Your brain goes fuzzy and you try to remember your words, grasping at the faint edges. “Please, Jun?”

You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. “Please what, baby?”

“Want Taehyun, please?” 

Yeonjun lets his hand drop, gripping your waist instead, and sinks just a little further into you. “Where do you want him, baby?”

“Mouth?”

“Say please…” another little twitch of his hips and he’s halfway, lips on your neck. He noses along your shoulder and sucks a hickey onto your skin, waiting for you to speak again.

“Want him in my mouth, please…” you manage, face completely buried in the pillow.

Yeonjun, satisfied with your answer, rocks himself against you until he’s all the way in again. He starts up his pace, faster this time, and gestures Taehyun over.

Taehyun wastes no time, settling himself at the very head of the bed, and you manage to raise yourself up to face him. Your cheeks grow hot when you realize you’re eye-to-eye with his dick, which is flushed pink and leaking precum.

Tentatively you place your lips on his thigh, and when you feel him twitch slightly, you move a little higher, until you’re met with the base of his dick.

Tip of your tongue flicking ever so slowly over his slit, gathering the precum on your tongue before suckling a little on his tip, trying to focus with Yeonjun still steadily fucking into you from behind. Your minuscule, lazy efforts are well received by Taehyun though, his whole body shuddering, and you push his thighs apart gently. 

You take the head of his cock between your lips, then a little more, tongue flat against the underside of his dick. Taehyun’s hand flies to your hair so fast it makes Yeonjun chuckle, pressing kisses along your shoulder, and you watch Taehyun flush. His own hand is wrapped around the base of his dick and he tugs himself out of your mouth. You eye him questioningly and he responds by tapping his tip against your cheek, spreading his precum over your skin before placing himself on your lips again. “Be a good little slut for me and suck me off good, hm?” He hums, the switch in personality making you tighten around Yeonjun, who hisses lightly.

“Like when Taehyun talks like that, baby?” He asks, and you can hear a smirk in his voice. “Wanna be his slut?”

You don’t know whether to nod or shake your head, settling on simply taking Taehyun in your mouth again. “Wanna make him feel good,” you mumble, bobbing your head up and down just a little, hand moving to jerk off the rest of him, and Taehyun’s hand wraps around yours. 

Your eyes flick up to his, and he only bends to place a kiss to your forehead. His hand gently moves yours along the length of his dick and you allow it, applying slight pressure on his tip when you lick over it again.

Taehyun’s head lolls back and to the side, his other arm moving to drape over his face. His muffled moans let you know he’s biting into the skin of his arm, and when a particularly rough thrust from Yeonjun makes Taehyun’s tip hit the back of your throat, you gagging a bit around him, Taehyun lets out a sharp gasp, pulling out of your mouth. He tugs frantically at his cock, head rocked back, the muscles of his thighs trembling under your hands, and when you give him another helping lap at his tip, his cum coats your lips and tongue, some getting on your nose, your cheeks, and the most adorable, high pitched moan leaves him, still muffled by the hand over his mouth.

You attempt to lick up all the cum around your mouth, a small yelp of pleasure forced against Taehyun’s hip when Yeonjun speeds up a little. 

You busy yourself with tugging Taehyun’s shirt up and leaving a constellation of marks on his waistline, joining them together in a heart. You’re leaving the last one when Yeonjun pulls out, suddenly lowering his face to your cunt to lap at your clit. You let out a surprised little gasp, the sudden stimulation sending you over the edge, and Yeonjun smirks, pulling away to push his dick inside you again. 

Your already tight walls are throbbing around him and he thrusts into you so deep that you can feel him in your tummy. Your hand moves behind you to grasp his wrist, tugging his hand so it slips from your waist to your stomach. You press his palm to your abdomen so he can feel the little bulge there, and as soon as he does you hear his breath stutter from behind you. 

His cum fills you a moment later, making you feel all warm inside… god, you love it when he does that, makes you even more fucked out than you already are. Your brain goes so fuzzy you can’t comprehend when Yeonjun pulls out, murmuring to Taehyun to take his spot, and you can’t comprehend when Taehyun presses his tip to your cum-soaked entrance.

Your head only rocks backward and a soft whimper leaves your lips. You feel so good inside, your hand grasping for whoever’s closest.

Yeonjun presses a few kisses to your cheeks and lips and you whine a little, chasing after his lips. You can only pout a little when he laughs and kisses you on the corner of your lips.

A sharp slap to your cunt draws you back to the moment, jolting you out of your stupor. Your focus stalls on Taehyun, between your legs, a small smirk drawn across his face, and he delivers another small hit to your clit. 

This time you’re expecting it, and it makes you gasp slightly, the feeling of his fingers on your swollen clit making your thighs shake. 

Even though it feels so dirty, having him between your legs like this, you only want more. You want to know what it feels like for him to be inside you, you need to know.

You look over at Yeonjun for permission, and he nods and moves to spread your legs a little wider. 

Taehyun’s wide eyes are so eager, he wants this just as bad as you. Not that he’d ever tell either of you, but he’s wanted this for a lot longer than just today.

He’s walked in on you more than once, quiet enough that neither you nor Yeonjun noticed. But he did, and the sight of you with Taehyun’s best friend’s dick buried inside of you, your pretty tight cunt covered and glistening with your slick… yeah, he’s jerked off to that mental image more than once before.

And now he’s got you in the exact same position, pussy all wet and warm in front of him, his for the taking, and he can’t help being just a little delirious. 

Taehyun has you squirming underneath him, only his tip inside, little teensy thrusts in and out and he can’t tell if they’re more frustratingly agonizing for him or you.

But when you look up at him, all whimpery and teary-eyed, begging him, “just a little more, please Taehyunnie?” … god, he can’t resist it.

Bottoming out in you so quickly you almost scream, a sharp inhale burning your throat and your cunt tightening around him. 

You can barely even breathe- it feels too fucking good, he’s filling you up so so perfectly, thick cock pressing up against all of the most perfect spots inside you.

And as for Taehyun… trying to even his breathing isn’t going to work, especially when your velvety walls take him in so greedily. 

He takes a long inhale to try and calm himself down, cause he’s not going to be able to last as long as he wants if he fucks into you immediately. You feel like absolute heaven around him. Better than he thought you would.

Taehyun slowly starts to rock in and out of you, keeping his pace steady, and Yeonjun watches from the side.

Yeonjun’s nodding approvingly and nudging your knees further apart when one wave of pleasure makes you almost knock them together.

“You wanna kiss her, Taehyun?” He asks, a grin tugging at his perfect lips.

Taehyun nods quickly and you both ignore how he twitches inside you at the same time your walls flutter around him… but the looks on your faces tell Yeonjun exactly what he already knows.

“Such a little cockslut, aren’t you?” Yeonjun teases, and when you nod he only laughs. “Bet you just want Taehyun’s dick inside you and his lips on yours, don’t you? Little whore all full with another man’s cock in her tummy…”

Tears prick your eyes at his words but you don’t deny it. He’s right, and your walls tightening around Taehyun only proves it.

“Jus’ wanna kiss him, please Juni?” You’re practically begging, legs aching from holding them so wide, and the constant press of Taehyun’s tip against that most perfect spot inside you is making your whole body shake.

“Yeah? Wanna kiss Tae, with his pretty eyes and his pretty moans and his pretty dick stuffing you so full?” 

You nod so fast and your eagerness makes Taehyun’s heart race. He’s one step away from begging himself when Yeonjun finally relents, Yeonjun’s long slender fingers wrapping around his own dick. Getting off to his girlfriend getting fucked to tears by his best friend… he can’t help it.

And when you so desperately catch Taehyun’s lips with your own, finally, finally getting to find out how his lips feel against yours, Taehyun’s fingers rub at your clit cause he can feel just how desperate your cunt is for his dick, too.

A shocked little whimper is all the sound you can make at this point, too far gone in your pleasure, and fuck, you’re cumming around him, trembling so hard that Taehyun threads his fingers with yours and presses a line of kisses to your jaw.

Your high seems to last forever and Yeonjun takes your other hand in his free one as your chest heaves, trying to return your pulse and breathing to normal.

It’s a little hard to, though, with Taehyun chasing his own high. Your cunt tightens around him in sync with your heartbeat and you’re almost on cloud nine at this point. Your legs are over Taehyun’s shoulders, every little throb of your pussy making his hips stutter.

“Hyung, can, can I cum inside?” He asks, his voice breathless and airy, cause you feel so fucking good, he doesn’t think he can last much longer.

“Go ahead, she’ll enjoy it, pretty cumslut,” Yeonjun says. His own words sound tight and strained and you look over at him… You had no idea your boyfriend was jerking off to what was going on in front of him.

Taehyun’s face moves to your neck and he bites a hickey into your skin, one last deep thrust before he buries his cum inside you. 

Your chin is on his shoulder and you grasp your own hands behind his back before looping one through his hair. You cling to him throughout his orgasm, your other palm flat against the smooth skin of his back. Little twitches of his hips fuck his cum further into you until he finally pulls out and rolls next to you, his eyes shut and his breathing ragged.

Yeonjun, with his head thrown back and his long neck on display, rights himself and slides up the bed and to you, and without question or protest you wrap your fingers around him.

“Got so hard watching us fuck…” you mumble in surprise, sliding a hand over his dick to spread the precum around even more.

This has to be Yeonjun’s favorite part, your eyes so wide and innocent while you jerk him off, even with two men’s cum leaking from your cunt and staining the bed. Just the sight of your pouty lips while you look up at him like that makes him twitch in your palm, and when you giggle, quickening your pace and applying just a little more pressure, asking him softly, “do you like that, Juni?” That sends him over, warm cum dripping all over your face and tits.

“Clean her up, Tyun,” Yeonjun instructs once he’s calmed down, laying back on the bed on the other side of you.

Taehyun rolls onto his tummy and props himself up on his elbows. One look at your cum-covered breasts and his lips and tongue are all over you, suckling gently on one nipple while his fingertip traces the other, and you lean your head back softly. “Feels good, Taehyunnie, so good, but just supposed to clean me up…”

He hums and shakes his head but sits back anyways, eyes on your tits, and you laugh at his wide-eyed gaze.

Yeonjun smiles at the two of you before finding you a clean pair of underwear, and you look up at him in surprise when he helps you put them on without cleaning you up first.

Yeonjun only shakes his head with a smile and places a kiss on your forehead. He tucks himself under the blanket and jokingly flings the blanket over your head, catching you against his chest, and Taehyun almost feels out of place until your hand finds his and you’re tugging him under the blanket too.

You move so you’re facing him, forehead against his, a smile on your face as you mouth, “pretty eyes,” and the look on his face is priceless, cheeks flushing and an elated smile crossing his face.

Pretty soon all three of you are scrambling for breath and popping your heads up and out of the blanket. Still almost completely naked, bare skin up against bare skin, eyes shut because you’re all so exhausted. 

You’re half asleep when you feel Taehyun’s lips on your breast again, a soft giggle slipping past your lips, and he tenses against you until you open your eyes and place a reassuring hand on his cheek and a kiss on his forehead.

His cheeks are a little pink and he closes his eyes again, you doing the same, the occasional little suck on your nipple making your thighs press together…

But then you fall asleep too, face buried in his hair, Yeonjun’s arms around your waist.

That is, however, only until the other members come home from work and come looking for the other two fifths of their group…

taglist: @napofamoon , @ixayjun , @kazscara , @full-sunnies

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Will you please be quiet?

Summary: You have a song stuck in your head and Emily one has one way to make you be quiet.

Word Count: 1.1k

Fluff, kissing

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

Reader POV:

“I wanna be your endgame, I wanna be your first string!” I sang as I was getting ready for the day. Music blasting through my apartment, as I pack my go-bag.

I go over to my vanity and put on some quick makeup and keep humming Endgame as it echos through the walls of my bedroom.

I hop into my car to go to work and put my Spotify on shuffle, Endgame comes on again. I’m not complaining but oh my god. This is going to be stuck in my head for days now.

Time skip to when reader gets to Quantico*

I’m minding my own business waiting for my coffee to pour while humming Endgame as Emily walks up behind me.

“Got a song stuck in your head?” Her hand lightly brushed over my waist as she went to stand next to me. Oh my goodness this woman makes butterflies erupt in my stomach by such a small touch.

“Ha, yeah. That obvious huh?” She let out a small laugh as she nodded.

“Yeah well you’ve been here what, an hour? And I don’t think I’ve heard anything but that time leave your mouth.” I lowered my head and shook it laughing at her observation, a blush coating my cheeks.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t come here just to talk about the song planting itself in that pretty little head of yours-“ I don’t let her finish, partially because the blush on my cheek is becoming too noticeable now and also because I know exactly what she’s going to say.

“We have a case.”

“Yes, we do, meet in the round table in 10.” She gives me a small smile and walks away.

Time skip to once they’re on the jet on the way to the case*

“Big reputation, big reputation, ohh you and me, we’d be a big conversation.” I mutter under my breath as I sit next to Emily looking over the file.

“Oh my god! You’re still going huh?” I’m snapped out of my thoughts by her soothing voice, I laugh and look at her honey brown eyes.

“Sorry!” I laughed as I looked back down to the file, her hand found its way onto my thigh under the table, careful not to draw attention to us. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

An uncontrollable smile bloomed on my face. I gave her hand a squeeze to say thanks and we both went back to the task at hand.

Time skip to when they’re looking through evidence at the local PD*

“You got anything?” Like asked Rossi.

“Nothing, if this guy did have any enemies he was quick to bury the hatchet as not to be tracked down.” As soon as he said this my brain flickered on with Endgame. Again.

“And I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put ‘em.” I hear a giggle next to me and look over and find Emily gazing at me.

“Don’t even,” I sighed “It’s starting to annoy me as well.” She laughed and shook her head and looked back down at the evidence like we had collected from the scenes.

Time skip to a little later*

“Hey what you humming?” Tara asked me as she looked up from the crime scene photos on the table.

“Endgame by Taylor Swift.” I reply without looking up, trying to piece together where the unsub was going to strike next.

“Oh my god! I love Taylor Swift! What’s your favourite album?” Before I could respond Spencer came into the room we, and the rest of the team, were in and started talking.

“Guys, I know where the unsub is going to strike next. The house he grew up in has been condemned and scheduled for demolition so that’s probably where he’s been taking his victims. If he sticks to his pattern, he’ll be going back there at some point after 10pm tonight.” We all started to pack up our things when Emily called out,

“Guys, we need to do a stakeout. We’ll scare him away if we go in there guns drawn and then he’ll go underground so, Reid and JJ, park on the curb near the house, Tara and Matt, go to the end of the road, Rossi and Luke to the other end of the road, you’ll act as a kind of covert roadblock and me and y/n will park up in an lay-by near the house.”

We all got up and went to our assigned SUV and started driving to our destinations. On the way there Emily turned the radio on.

“And I heard about you, ooh, you like the bad ones too.”

“Oh my god! It’s everywhere!” We laughed together at this. What are the chances?! We kept the radio on nonetheless.

As we pulled into the parking space we sat in a comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other presence and the peace of an evening stakeout. The sun was setting and I absentmindedly started humming under my breath yet again.

“I don’t wanna miss you, like the other girls do. I don’t wanna hurt yo-“ before I could finish I feel my chin being tugged to the side and a soft pair of lips meeting my own.

To say I was shocked at first was an understatement but I soon melted into the kiss, her thumb caressed my face as our lips moved together. It was the most amazing moment of my life to date. Emily slowly pulled away her face still barely a centimetre away from my own.

“What was that for?” I asked, still skeptical.

“It’s the only thing that I could think of to stop you from singing that damn song!” Laughter broke out between us and as it died down she pulled me back in again for a brief kiss.

“Dinner at my place tomorrow?” She asked gazing into my eyes with our hands intertwined.

“Are you, Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, asking me out on a date?” I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.

“Yes, I am.” She giggled.

“In that case, dinner tomorrow sounds awesome.” I kiss her again, savouring the taste of her on my lips.

“I’ll take you to and from work so you can stay the night and not worry about your car.” I say thank you as I pull her into another kiss, this one lasting a little longer than the others.

Her hand reaches for the back of my head and pulls me in closer, her tongue swiping my bottom lip asking for permission. Granting it, I open my mouth and let her explore.

“Hey guy! Stop sucking each other’s faces and go back to the PD we got the guy!”

We make eye contact and start laughing hard.

Well Shit. At least I ahoy a date with em!

[cypressnmarigolds]

NSFW Vincent Sinclair HCs

Even though I really, really need to finish writing my Thomas installment of Lesson Learned, I'm gonna share my naughty Vincent headcanons because they've literally been eating my brain.

Contains: Vincent being a creepy little perv.

🚫 Minors, blank and no-age blogs are not welcome on my blog or to interact with my posts. You will be blocked. 🚫

He's a virgin. I'll leave elaborating my reasoning for another time. don't want this getting angsty.

I HC Vinny as a closet perv. Really takes off once you've caught his attention and managed to be allowed to live. If he has his way, you will never catch on, or even find out he's interested in you. He's embarrassed, among other feelings.

Before you came along, he has had plenty dirty thoughts and fantasies. Hell, he's probably read through any and all smutty books he's been able to find in visitors belongings. But after you show up and he has someone to focus all of his thoughts on? HORNY.

Now, I mean he's a ✨pervert✨ He will steal your underwear and jerk off in them, then quickly wash them and put them back before you've noticed they're missing. He will, at some point, somehow catch you naked without you noticing. IDK how he does it but he will.

He will then draw your nude form several times, in many positions.

He will jerk off to these too and would rather let Bo and Lester find them before you.

If he ever overhears you touching yourself or having a steamy dream, he will listen and touch himself to you. If not right then, he will file it away for later.

Lil Blurb

But seriously can you imagine? He manages to catch you changing, or overhears you moaning in the dead of night. He immediately gets hard. Later, he's kneeling in his bed, sweats just pulled down enough to free his cock, desperately jerking himself off to the memory, mask discarded and biting down on the sleeve of his black hoodie to quiet himself even though there's no chance in hell anyone could hear him. He's also done this while "admiring" some of the picture he drew of you. He is a CREEP.

He's embarrassed about how horny he is for you, but don't misunderstand, he doesn't feel guilty about sneaking around without you knowing. He was the good child, he was the favorite. He probably got everything he wanted. And though Bo probably pulled an Uno Reverse on him after their parents were gone and bullies him all the time, Vincent still feels a sense of entitlement. If he wants something, he'll take it. If he wants to see you naked in the shower without you catching him, he will. If you wants to watch you touch yourself without noticing his presence, that's what's gonna happen. Again, CREEP

I'm conflicted on whether or not he'll need you to take the led the first several times, or if once he knows you're interested and gets over the shock, he'll pounce on you and take what he wants. That's if either of you ever make a move.

But let me be clear, he wants to see you come. He wants to see you fall apart under his hands and mouth and cock. Huge ego boost knowing he can make you feel so good.

But he has massive switch energy If you take the lead, lay him down on his back and hold his hips down while you peg him/fuck him/blow him/jerk him off, he's cumming in record time. I can see him being a whimpering, needy pillow princess.

*big sigh* Ok, think I got all my brain eaters out. If you enjoyed this, please feel free to leave a comment, and please reblog. This isn't instagram. Likes do jack shit to circulate content, and no circulating content means fandoms on this site will die.

[echonvoid]

My version of the Poppy Playtime protagonist. They’re based on Aliens Ripley but if older. They couldn’t remember a whole bunch from the week or so around the Hour of Joy; they were attacked by Huggy and managed to make it right outside the front doors with the help of one of the other employees, who, valiantly (read *stupidly*) ran back inside to try to help. He never came back out. Anyway, Protag was found by paramedics, but the inside was empty of bodies by the time they got there. There was a shit load of blood, and after a brief scan by the cops, they just shut that shit down. They lost a couple cops and paramedics, but mostly used their instincts and ran. Like smart people who survive a horror movie.

So the protagonist ends up in a couple month long coma and comes out of it with a severed nerve that connects to their larynx. Now they haven’t been able to properly talk for 30 years (ignore my math, I’m still unsure how I fucked it up so bad)

I can’t decide if they’re late 50s or 60s. They’re farsighted, but their reading glasses have broke, so it’s really hard to see all the small faded text (which is why you can’t just read any ole file while playing)

They feel guilty bc they had been so proud to be a part of something with so much benefit and joy to kids, and now they’re finding out the actual *EVIL* that was happening to those with connection to the place. They feel guilty bc they feel like they should’ve known; *how could they have let this all happen right underneath their very nose*;etc. etc. they also have a burning hatred for the other managerial heads in the company (they themselves being head of toy production; their name is destroyed bc the prototype was enraged that one of the five main evils of the company got away or some shit like that)

It took them a while to figure out how to live and function without speech; and after a few years of slogging through a comphet (compulsory heteronormative) marriage, they finally went through a nasty divorce. Shortly after they figured out their own gender identity (or at least started the awkward process of) and their own sexuality.

Thirty years later (almost on the dot) they got the message and tape that cried for help from the factory and nearly shit themselves. Proto definitely assumed that the company had just shut down, cuz you know that the cops were paid to keep a building with almost 500 (or so) employees, that went missing and were presumably dead, under wraps from the public. They’re definitely super grateful they’ve been doing tumbling and martial arts classes, so they have been in incredible shape and can do all the crazy shit required to stay alive.

Edit: this is what I’m gonna call the Survivor AU cuz I realize that the game takes place in 2005 and not, like, 2025. And we apparently played hooky during the “hour of joy” in canon lore. Oh well

God this chapter fucked me up, in a good way. It was spooky as fuck, tense and terrifying; they’ve super upped the quality. But now I have just enough brain rot and characters to attach to to actually go through and draw up the design that’s been banging around in my head for ever.

[inquisitor-gayfax]

✨ Fic Planning and Outlining ✨

Outlining is a huge part of my writing process and something I love talking about, so since I’m currently suffering something of a writer’s block, I’ve put together a step-by-step explanation of my process below. It is important to note that there is no right answer or best way to outline; as with most things it’s just a matter of finding what works best for you!

I would love it if other folks chimed in and added to this with their own tips and tricks!

Let’s learn from each other!

Outlining Tools & Overall Organization

To start with, I use OneNote to organize everything, but there are a ton of programs out there, and you could even do this with different .txt/word files! The main reasons I like OneNote: (1) oo pretty colored tabs (2) tab folders for making sense of the giant pile of WIPs:

So, I have all the things I’m “actively” working on out in the open, then squirrel away everything else in one of five categories: completed (yay!), short, medium, and long WIPs, then a catch-all category for everything that doesn’t really fit anywhere else.

The Outlining Process

To demonstrate and (hopefully) have a little fun, I’m going to pick a half-baked idea from the “WTF – Miscellany” category and create a new tab as if I’m actually going to write it! So, without further ado, let’s dive in and begin outlining for a multi-chapter AU fic wherein Rogal Dorn and Perturabo are high school girls’ volleyball coaches!

First Page: Tags ‘n Such

I often hear that tags can be the hardest part for writers, which is interesting because this is usually where I start! Something about seeing my fic in the summary format it will eventually appear in on AO3 is very motivating to me, and helps guide my writing. You can always add/change later.

Here is the template I use for easy copy/pasting!

Title: Fandom(s): Rating: Category: Archive Warnings: Relationship(s): Character Tags: Other tags: Summary:

And here’s a screenshot of my first pass for this WIP:

This gives me a chance to talk about one of my FAVORITE writing hacks, which is… [BRACKET TEXT].

I don’t know about everyone else, but my brain consistently feels the need to get everything perfect on the first try, which is very unhelpful and actively counter-productive! I’ve found that when I can’t get the phrasing of something just right, or I’m still not sure what I’m going for, putting some brackets around the text in question and just scribbling whatever’s in my mind at the moment allows me to move on without getting bogged down.

If it’s in brackets, I give myself permission to be silly, OOC, anachronistic, or messy, and boy is it a lifesaver sometimes.

Once I have the AO3 info fields done, I draw a little line below the summary and start filling in what I call the “brainstorm space” (that inevitable turns into a mini-outline I need to move over to another page at some point). This is another place I allow myself to be messy. I scribble down thoughts on narrative structure, inspirations, setting, key moments/scenes, themes, motifs, stuff I absolutely need to include, and any overarching things that will be helpful to have before planning in earnest.

Here’s what it looks like for this fic:

Not much there now, but it’s a start, and that’s what outlining is all about!

Second Page: Detailed Outline

A bit of a note here – I used to have a separate page for a “mini-outline,” i.e. a less detailed version, but the brainstorm space basically serves this purpose now, so it’s less common.

This is where the actual structural planning starts to take place. I’ve gotten into the habit of using bracket text here, too, to serve as shorthand summaries of each point. For a multi-chapter fic, I’ll also make sure to note where I think the chapter boundaries will fall, though obviously this is subject to change.

So, a barebones one for this fic might look something like this:

There’s not much there right now, but that’s fine, because (1) it’s in bracket text and (2) this is just the skeletal structure for what comes next: filling it in as you get inspiration.

My brain tends to want to write longfics, but never linearly, of course. Sometimes I get raw bursts of inspiration for scenes, so the way I work with this is to scribble (on my phone, on the computer, in a physical notebook) whatever it is down at the moment I get it, then plug it in to the existing outline later. This way, I end up building a pretty comprehensive plan for the fic before I even open a word document, and it’s easier to make big choices like chapter contents, scene order, and story progression without feeling like I need to tear apart something that’s already fairly set in stone.

Here's an example of what a partially filled-in outline looks like, from my Celefax Gothic Mystery AU WIP:

Note that this one is in chart form, which is what I usually go with for longfics for better separation of scenes and ideas.

Pagestravaganza: Additional Pages for Longfics

For one-shots and shorter multi-chapter fics, typically the Tags/Brainstorming and Detailed Outline pages are enough to get me ready to write, but for longfics, there’s a lot more to think about, and additional places to take notes can be helpful.

Here’s an example of all the pages in the tab for that Celefax AU I mentioned above, which has a lot of characters and worldbuilding and all sorts of things that would be difficult to encapsulate in an outline alone:

For one of my other longfic WIPs, I also have a page where I write down revision notes for the parts I’ve already written as they come to me, so it’s easy to refer back to during the editing process (which I could write a whole other post about).

Another thing I sometimes like to do, especially for one-shots or fics that are from only one character’s POV, is write out a paragraph or two about character emotional arcs. Plot is great, but it can be hard to know where that takes you if you don’t know where each character is starting out and where they end up.

To summarize: The sky’s the limit here. Whatever you need to do to make sure everything comes together, however you need to organize it, however little makes it into the final draft, your outlining/planning document is for you, and you shouldn’t get too bogged down into what needs to be there or whether it’s clean and pretty. As long as it’s helpful to you, it is serving its purpose admirably, and even if it isn’t you’re still learning what does and doesn’t work for you. The way I outline is a constantly evolving process, and different things work for different fics. Feel free to play around!

Writing the Dang Thing

This is the end result, the task for which all your outlining has (hopefully) prepared you!

I’ll be honest: I loathe first drafts. (See above comment about everything needing to be perfect the first time around.)

It’s probably for this reason that I outline so fastidiously, because when I plop my bracket text outline and any pre-written snippets into my first draft, it feels so much less daunting than staring at a blank page.

I can start to fill in the pieces I neglected (scene setting, always), figure out where there might be a need for more connective tissue, and tackle the bite-sized chunks my bracket text outline has created one at a time.

I keep doing that until, ta da! A workable first draft emerges, and we move on to editing, my beloved.

Hopefully this has been interesting/helpful, and please please pleeeeease feel free share your own methods and thoughts and funny bracket text!

[forestshadow-wolf]

Blossoms of Love (Chapter 9)

(not so) campfire stories

Pairing: soap/ghost

Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, hanahaki

A03 link || Chapter 1 || Chapter 8

Progress was… slow, sluggish, stagnant; soap was sure there was a better word for it but he’s an artist not a poet. The sun creeped closer and closer towards the tree line, an image he’d have loved to sketch had he not had a job to be doing. It quickly became apparent that they would not be finishing before night hit, confirmed by price’s command to set up camp in the mostly intact body of the plane.

Ghost had been scarce since the initial crash, the night was beginning to set in and he wasn’t with the others yet. Soap found him a few paces into the trees. Why would Ghost be all the way out here, there was no reason to be, at least not as far as he could tell. He was crouched down, back to him, he seemed… off. Well more off than he had been lately.

He called out to the man, who straightened up and whirled around quickly, as if caught off guard. Odd, he wasn’t being particularly quiet, and even if he was Ghost ordinarily would have picked up on it anyways. He worked to hide an interrogative look, not wanting to push any boundaries, not today at least.

“Sergeant.” he cleared his throat.

“Uh Price set up watch. Ah said ah could take first, but he said you wouldnae mind. So…” he trailed off at the end, not sure where he was going with that sentence.

“Aye, I don’t mind.” they set off back toward their makeshift camp.

Everyone was already mostly settled and were heading towards the edge of sleep by the time they were back. Ghost settled on his bedding and soap grabbed his sketchbook before sitting beside Ghost. To which he got a shoulder nudge and an inquisitive look.

“What?”

“What’re you doin’, Johnny?”

“Wha’d’ya mean ‘wha mah doin?’ ah thought it was pretty obvious am sittin’ doon.”

“I know that, ya ass. I mean shouldn’t you be goin’ to sleep, not doodlein’ in your book?” ghost rolled his eyes.

“Eh, not tired, ‘Sides ah w’s g’nna come take yer place anyway. ‘Ts easier to j’st stay up fer a few more hoors.” that truth was easier to say than the ones that lay beneath it. The one that said that Ghost was acting just a little bit too off. the one that said he knew exactly what kind of thing grew in loveless areas. The one that said that something about Ghost made him want to both run away and get even closer at the same time. Ghost hummed roughly with what Soap could only describe as skepticism, as if he knew Soap hadn’t told him the real reason, granted he hadn’t but Ghost didn’t know that.

It was maybe half an hour later, they hadn’t said anything to each other since they settled down, instead opting for a… something silence. He couldn’t really explain how it felt. Soap still had yet to actually draw, he’d just been slowly filing his pencil down into a sharp point on the paper, watching it darken with each pass of graphite. It’s not like he was even going to do anything with the blackened paper, he’d never been good at negative drawings, it was really just something to keep him occupied. Ghost shifted beside him, but he didn’t really pay much attention to it, he didn’t mind being watched. Not if it was Ghost anyway.

“There’s Orion's belt, just over there.” soap startled slightly at the quiet voice beside him. He looked over to see the man pointing to something in the sky. He followed the finger, but he’ll admit he never had a knack for picking out stars and constellations. He offered up an interested hum, Ghost took that as his cue to continue.

“That cluster over there I’ve heard goes by many names, only know some of the stories though. My favorite is Aphrodite's carriage.” soap nodded, pretending to follow along as Ghost launched into whatever tale stars he had queued up in his brain. Soap couldn’t tell if Ghost was doing it for his benefit or if that was just how he told stories, but his imagery gave Soap intense urges to sketch it out.

That’s how they spent the next hour, with Ghost telling stories and Soap quietly sketching them out, it was an odd sort of role reversal. Soap would be lying if he tried to claim to have learned any of Ghost’s constellations, but he did listen to them.

“How’d’ya ken so much aboot th’ stars, L.T.?” soap garnered his curiosity between a lapse in Ghost's storytelling.

“I don’t.” he said it so simply, so matter-of-factly that it took soap a moment to process what he said.

“Bu- wha’d’ya mean? You were literally just telling me about- er what’d ya call it? ‘Jupiter’s Bowl’?”

“I made it up. The only constellation I know is Orion’s belt. Hell, I don't even know if I pointed to the right stars on that one.” again it was that matter-of-fact tone, as if it was obvious. It confused Soap to no end, he’d spoken with such… confidence? Self-assuredness? That soap didn’t even question him.

“So.. ye just got thoose stories locked and loaded? Or do ya improv ‘em?”

“Had some of ‘em for a while, other’s I made up.” There was a slight inflection in his voice that gave soap the feeling that they were creeping up on uncomfortable territory, so he flipped aspects.

“Tell meh ‘nother?” a smile quirked at the edges of his lips.

“Depends, it gonna put you to sleep?” the tone was light again, if not a tiny bit scratchy.

“Me? Nah, ah’d neve’” Ghost took it with a nod and launched them into another story. It was something flashy and eye-catching, but not memorable, simply for entertainment. At some point Ghost scooched over to watch soap draw, who leaned back just slightly to give a better view. That’s how they spent the rest of Ghost’s and the first half of Soap’s watch, with Ghost taking them on mini adventures, and soap documenting them. Eventually though soap nudged Ghost over to his bedroll next to Nik, knowing the man hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. Ghost rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘mother hen’, but complied nonetheless.

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

@checkerscharlie @halb-nichts @heyitsropi @trekkie-in-space @lavenderstem

[jennyandvastraflint]

jenny/vastra and 31

Sorry this took me a while to get to, anon!!!

Here's your "Kiss after a small rejection"! I hope you enjoy this 😊

"Vastra, Vastra!" Jenny came down the hallway calling, and a smile appeared on Vastra's lips. She pushed the file she had been writing in away and turned to the door, expecting the human already. Not three seconds later, her wife entered the study, cheeks glowing with delight. She rushed to Vastra's side and took both her hands in hers. Vastra was about to inquire about the reason for her sudden delight when Jenny began speaking, clearly overflowing with excitement. "It's snowing," she said. Vastra had not, in fact, realised it was, having been deep in thoughts and busy filling out the never-ending paperwork Scotland Yard requested of her. Sometimes she thought they only sent it to torment her. She looked out her window, and truly, white flakes were dancing in the air, slowly making their descent to the ground. Vastra hadn't a chance to get a word in before Jenny pulled her to her feet and rushed her down the stairs. "You'll come with me, won't you? Oh, please, darling," Jenny begged, burrowing through their scarves and wrapping the warmest around Vastra's neck before she picked her simple blue one up and tied it around her own. "Go where?" Vastra asked, only slightly confused, though endeared by Jenny's almost childlike excitement. Jenny looked up at her from putting on her boots. Her eyes were big and round, searching for something in Vastra's face. "Outside, I mean. In the snow." Vastra tensed, and it was all she could do to stop herself from pulling back physically. She bit down a hiss at the prospect of going into the icy outside when her home was wonderfully heated. Silently she watched on as Jenny got dressed, and when she got out Vastra's warmest boots and knelt down to help her, Vastra reached down to draw her back up. "What's wrong?" Jenny asked, brows furrowing and chewing her lip. Seeing that expression, Vastra almost gave in. She looked away, holding Jenny's hand between hers. Gently, she ran a thumb over the palm of her wife's soft hand, and she murmured, "I don't wish to go outside." "What?" The excitement from before had died on Jenny's tongue. Vastra repeated her words, voice wavering more. A warm hand cupped her face, and Vastra was met with two gentle brown eyes filled with more love than Vastra could ever have imagined anyone could be feeling for her. "Okay," Jenny breathed. "Okay? You are not... disappointed I am not going with you?" Jenny hummed for a moment, then shrugged. "A bit, perhaps. But you don't like the cold, and it's not good for you anyway." Vastra's face softened. She stroked a finger over Jenny's cheek, then her lips, and finally, she leaned down to kiss her. Jenny hummed again, smiling happily as their lips parted. "May I sit by the window and watch you play in the snow, my love?" "Of course, Vastra... Now, let's get your warm blankets so you don't grow cold by the window..."

This has been sitting in my brain since I got your ask, but in a rather incoherent cloud I couldn't yet grasp XD

[abarbaricyalp]

Hey! I absolutely adore your fanfics and I've started to come up with ideas for my own fics but somehow I'm stuck at actually writing them down in a fully formed version, I just have vague plot ideas and moments I want to happen in the fic but actually transforming it into a fanfic feels impossible to me -- I have a few lines here and there written out, but those are just tiny scenes. Maybe I just lack the creative drive and I'm simply not a writer. Still, I wanted to ask, do you have any advice for anyone who wants to get into fanfic writing? Where do you draw inspiration from?

Thank you so much for such kind words! I'm so glad my stories resonate with you! ❤️ And it's so exciting to hear that you're venturing into your own story making 🎉🎉🎉🎉

I've been thinking about this question since I saw it and I think my answer boils down to "you have to train your brain to be open and be thinking constantly." (Of course, by constantly, I don't mean you have to be taxing and straining yourself every single moment) Being a writer feels like a full time job (or hobby!) sometimes because my brain is always going. Does that streetlight inspire something? Is that weird tree a candidate for a new character? Was that joke funny enough to use in a fic? Do I wanna set something in an antique store just to include this weird timelessness vertigo I have? I'm gonna take a picture of that "cow crossing" road sign to use later.

I have been writing for as long as I can remember. I have distinct memories of being five years old and squirreling away stories in drawers all over the house. I've always been a voracious reader. My inner voice never stops. And my imagination has always been stronger than my attention span 😄 All of this to say, it feels like stories come pretty naturally to me, but that's because I've been making them up my whole life. I'm very sorry if this is not so helpful.

One starting point I've often come back to (even as a long time writer) is to WRITE stories the way you TELL stories. How do you talk to your family or friends when you're recounting an event? That's telling stories. How would you explain something you saw to someone taking a statement? That's telling stories. How do you recap an episode of TV or a book you read? That's telling stories. Sure, it's not as flashy and verbose as some written fiction, but it's still telling stories. And you may find that that is a voice you relate to as you're writing. Plenty of authors have a straight forward style. The more you stretch that story telling muscle, the more likely you are to find the rhythm of the story and your voice. If you're finding it difficult or daunting to write down a whole idea at once or you can't find the link between A and D, write down how you would describe it to someone. Nothing ever has to be a final draft, certainly not a first draft.

Similarly, start small. I can't tell you how many of my stories began as single lines of dialog or a quick scene image. It's totally fine to write 50, 100, 200, 300 words because that small aspect interested you. (It's fine to post that! If that's all you want to say or share about it!) I have a whole file of small moments like that, which I go through every now and then to see if the rest of the story has found me yet. Quite often, I think you may find that as you sit with a line or an image for a while, something else is going to slot into place. Maybe not the exact next line, maybe just a plot idea, maybe a character dynamic or new relationship. Let these things come to you. Or write down your idea and then just keep typing, even if it makes no sense. Writing is kind of like fishing sometimes. I just keep casting my hook out and waving the pole around until it catches on something. (You know, how normal people fish) Inspiration is important, but it's not the be-all and end-all of writing. Unfortunately, it's usually just the bait on the line. Writing can be a bit of work. You have to put in the effort after an idea grabs you and you have to keep writing on your own. There is, unfortunately, no divine delivery most of the time.

Inspiration is one of those things that you have to train your brain for. (Seems counterintuitive, I know) But hear me out: in any given day, an author will experience the same sights, sounds, news, movies, songs, and phenomena that every else around them does. Any of those things can trigger you into saying, "wait, this could be a story." I have plenty of posts on here where I talk about AUs based on movies or songs or video games because at the moment it struck me that this situation could be repurposed for a fic or a story. Interacting with other art in the world and learning to recognize tropes, emotional triggers, arcs, plots, conflicts etc etc and then how to play with and break them is definitely one way to train yourself to be open to Inspiration and new ideas.

Once you do have an idea, write it down. I promise you will not remember it, no matter how cool it was. Keep some paper or a designated notes app for these things. Be as thorough or vague as you like. I have so many random lines, character names, AUs, plots, and images saved. Ponder these things, especially if you're really grabbed by one. Think about what you would like to see with it. Who else is filling out the space? What is the end goal? Writing is full of big questions that may be answered easily, may need to be forced through, or may need to sit back and rest for a moment. I wish I had better advice here, but it really is just that sitting with your inspiration for a while can help your ideas so much, especially if you're stuck. Ideas want to talk to you. They (you) just need to find the words.

So inspiration doth strike. Now what? Like I said, now is the work. A whole fic will likely never come to you all at once. Take what you know of the fic-- your lines, your images, your trope etc-- and write them out. Then begin making the connective webs inbetween. This where the verbal story telling comes in. Quick lines often blossom into full scenes. Even if they don't, no biggie. You're learning the story here. You're getting to know it. You wouldn't expect to understand a person fully upon just meeting them. I've even created outlines before with my big ideas, then just kept getting more specific in the subheadings until much of the full plot was there and waiting.

This takes practice. Finding (and trusting) your creative voice is a skill that can be worked out the same as any muscle, but you do have to put in some hard work with slow results. Don't be afraid to backspace or go in a different direction. I can't tell you how many of my stories were supposed to be one thing but ended up going in a completely different direction to great results. Tell It To The Bees was supposed to be a quick, goofy Three (or five) And One story about Bucky getting caught talking to the bees, very silly and light, but once I started writing it, it became such a different story and I think it's so much better for it. Inspiration, imagination, interest, and desire are all working in tandem (or fighting) as you write. Along with learning to be open to inspiration, you must also learn to listen to these instincts as you write. Which really just takes practice and trust. I'm sure you are already in tune with these things inside of you. Let them roam as you write too.

It sounds like your creative voice is awake and kicking! Now it's just about putting in work-- pay attention to the world and art around you, write often and badly and slowly and smally, and figure out what connective webbing looks like for you. Stories really are living things. You have to give them the space, attention, resources, and love to grow, and you have to help them along. Don't be discouraged that you're just beginning this journey but can't sprint to the finish line right now. Writers are also living things, who need space, attention, resources, and love to grow 😊 Just keep writing and taking risks and you'll see a pay off.

Oh! And READ! READ EVERYTHING. Creativity rarely grows in a vacuum. You have to see good art to make good art. You won't know what possibilities are unless you're out seeing what other people are doing. A certain turn of phrase, a camera movement, character interactions, descriptions, these all can inspire you or just give you the knowledge and confidence to grow as a writer. Read everything you want, watch everything you like, listen to music and pay attention to the lyrics or the instrumentals, devour podcasts and news stories, go to art museums and make up stories to go along with the pictures. The whole world is there to teach you and help you grow.

[fishslappping]

I fully blame adhd for my preoccupation and love for immortality being my biggest draw to stories and characters bc having thoughts like a loosely wrapped ball of yarn being pulled apart and tangled together in a stormy ocean constantly makes me dream of how much I want to do and learn and see and experience but then I immediately forget it and move to the next thing, only to remember it moments or weeks later, at which point I realize that I’ve lost out on so much time to start it that it’s forgotten about and filed away for future remembrance once again because I can’t get it done in that moment and on and on and on and on like that until maybe I can get to it at some point!!! and just like having a possible eternity to let my life play out at a pace that fits with my roiling and impossibly noodley brain would be really fucking great tbqh

[nerice]

jjks is so weird in my brain (personal bullshit incoming)

when it aired and i fell into it, i was at the height of my life. getting into digital art, vry specifically doing goretober half a year into my job where i also first injured my wrist. the next half year was absolute insanity hyperfixation the likes of which even i rarely reach, i still have a 1gb+ folder from my twitter ventures. but also by the second half,, too high on the feeling i got my entire friend group into it and it was such a bad experience that it ruined most of the back end for me. reading the manga in japanese kind of salvaged it [mfw i went thru 殺戮人形 knowing nothing but the chara design...] but all the writing it should have sparked fell flat bc i was feeling so awful still. a few months later i quit all art and writing to focus on thesis and mental health diagnoses, also known as 2022 aka the worst year of my life. during which the manga also descended into whatever the fuck culling game is. and now here we are, another year later, three years after the initial fall into [the best time of my life, outside of screenplay and black swan hell eras] finally adapting those most important chapters soon. but nothing feels the same. i cannot draw and barely write bc wrist explosion limping over the finish line of my last two work shifts next week so i can spend months/open ended on physical therapy and recovery. my mental health is the worst it's ever been two years out of [oc brain] that was on a fkcin 15yr streak........ and i am excited ! lowkey i think and hope watching Content get adapted will fix me ! maybe jjks can bookend the worst time of my life and we can neatly file it away and move on...... but after everything i dare not hope. i just desperately want to be able to at least sketch again by the time Those Episodes hit but i could not bear the fallout if that is not the case. i pray they air em before im in japan because if i am around that same friend group,,,,,,,,,, it's all so convoluted and rotten even though it should be the easiest and most exciting thing. :(

if all else fails, at least i still have the elden ring dlc upcoming

[legendaryinternetpersona]

My daughter insists her little brother is fine. They've all claimed, the entire time, that everyone is *Wonderful* and that i was the problem the entire time. Which is completely false in my recollections and experience and i am not brain injured nor am i a child but somehow testimony of a man with hundreds of documented concussions won out over my own in court but whatever. There are many ways in which the world is very broken. It's horrifically unfair and hurts innocent children wrote often. I messaged my daughter earlier asking after her and her brother, since her father is continuing to give me the silent treatment. Not grey rock, no rock, no response at all. So any time i message him asking about my babies he doesn't reply. But she does. So i messaged her. She told me her brother was at a sleepover. The boy is ten. Prime age for being molested. His father is historically not the best judge when it comes to safety, for himself or the kids. I'm filed with fear for my children, I've confirmed the safety of each of them from their own hands BUT for the baby. They blocked my number on his phone. For all i know his father could be prostituting my child for rent money and telling him he'll kill me if he tells anyone. The man was capable of what he did to me, so i don't think there's much he *wouldn't* do to hurt people, and i expect it would be done with zero remorse.

My daughter was getting annoyed with me for asking her to confirm her brother was safe. I wrote out the following but did not send it. I want so badly to explain it to her but her reality is so far from mine that i don't know what she remembers anymore. I have no idea what she thinks happened. And no one will let me talk about it with her. Not even with a therapist present. It's... hard.

The message i wrote:

I hope he's fine. I hope both of yall are as wonderful as has been claimed. I really hope you're not lying to me. I hope you wouldn't lie about that. Or about anything at all, really. You can affect much more radical change and good in the world by using the truth consistently. I was trying to instill that and other #truths in you, i haven't gotten to see how well it took hold. I worry. All the time. I had to rescue yall so much, from silly things that just weren't even a consideration, that i stay worried. Especially since he won't talk to me at all. 🌈

***

I didn't send it, that bears repeating. I want so much to connect with my child. To process all this in a safe place, away from her father and his family. Where they can't hurt us. But unless I get famous or win the lottery, or both, I'll never be able to provide that for my children ever again. Working as a CNA ain't ever gonna cut it. I'll never get there that way.

So, today, my birthday, I spent updating my talent page for my acting agent's website, i entered one round of PCH (the 100k drawing), and... well, I dicked around on socials way more than i would have liked. It's like i need a beep or something to go off every ten minutes to remind me to check myself. Not something i have to dismiss, just a beep or a buzz or both to be *be here now* at me. i get lost, for so so long. its appallingly frustrating. especially when i have so much riding on my ability to maintain focus on my goals. And time is running ever shorter. The years are coming faster and faster. And no one knows when it's done until it's done. So it could be sooner than later. There's no time to waste. None at all. And yet, so often, I do. *facepalm*

I pray this c-ptsd and adhd and whatever else is 'wrong' with me will sort itself into something manageable and worthwhile here soon. This constant guilt ridden heartbreak is gonna end up literally breaking my heart and then where will i be? fucked. thats where. And im not into that anymore. no longer a fan.

[valaruakars]

Temperance

Viktor x f!Reader || 3.8k || NSFW

When Viktor is alone in the lab, you kindly pack up your Academy office and spend the day in his company, working alongside him. He’s a busy man and your timing isn’t great, but you can’t help the way you want him. And you get the feeling that maybe he wants you too. Could all this be solved by passing him a note that says “hey wanna fuck circle yes or no?” Sure, but you’re not that smart.

A/N: Hey um y’all know that scene in like ep. 4 with the giant screw? Gateway drug to wanting to ride his fingers. Also @arcanescribbles draws his hands too much for my weak little pea brain to handle :))

warnings: established relationship, pining (obvi), dirty talk, fingering, PIV (of the unsafe variety)

The sound of wind gusting outside punctuates the ambient hum of machinery and the smooth scratch of his pen, scrawling out a language foreign to you on his blueprints. The artificial lights in the lab are rapidly overtaking the fading sunlight, and there are still many ungraded assignments strewn across your borrowed desk. Your cheek rests heavy in the palm of your hand; your eyes, glazed and bleary, stare into the middle distance as your mind wanders from your work.

You’re thinking of him. Again.

It’s only natural that you do; you think of Viktor all the time. Your lover, your constant companion, you walk through your day filing away little things to tell him later; a stupid joke he’ll enjoy or how you pet a cat this morning. You think of his shirt that needs mending or picking up more of his favorite coffee on the way home. Innocent, passing thoughts of your life together.

But not always.

The pen is limp in your hand and your fingernail mindlessly raps the desk, tapping out the staccato of your thoughts as you lose yourself in waking dreams of him. Your body burns with a fever you can’t sweat out and you can see him, in your mind’s eye, fucked absolutely senseless beneath you.

“(Y/N),” he says quietly, voice a scratchy sound for all the hours he’s tirelessly, silently worked beside you. You hear him, but you’re not in the lab. “(Y/N),” he tries again, a little firmer, but you’re in bed, your rapturously naked body bathed in a sheen of evening light and sweat as you chase your pleasure, riding his cock with languid abandon. You hear your name, and it is a word of worship from the supplicant below.

Your pen is suddenly knocked from your hand when he covers it with his own, cold and gentle but for where patchy callouses stipple his palm. Your finger, which up until now had been mimicking the sound of a very horny metronome, finally stops moving. And you divorce fantasy for the sweet, lonely touch of reality. For a man who is much too busy to indulge your fantasies.

The hand supporting your cheek peels away and you pivot to look at him, where he has wheeled himself down the workstation to sit beside you. His soft, searching gaze flays you immediately. If he can’t already see the hot, creeping flush on your neck, the sickly warmth of your hand will betray you instead.

“Please, no more of that,” he begs, and your guilty eyes shift to watch his fingers curl tighter around yours, “It’s, ah, it’s a little…”

“Annoying?” you supply, finding that your raspy voice is an echo of his own, “You can say that, it’s fine.” You sigh long and deep, smoothing back the hair at the crown of your head like it will soothe your keening body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” you tell him simply.  

“All is forgiven,” he says softly, releasing your hand with a fond, reassuring squeeze. He ventures to pinch the red patch you’ve pressed into your cheek. “So lost in thought…” he muses and you’re inclined to think it’s not entirely innocent.

You swat his hand away, muttering, “I suppose I was.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“I—um, I was…” you stumble, gesturing like you’re waiting for your sluggish brain to catch up with your mouth, “…Thinking about my lecture for tomorrow. I’m just concerned it won’t be engaging enough.”

How sad, that you’re convincing in content, but not in delivery.

“Interesting,” he says slowly, the word thick on his tongue. But his gaze flits from your face to the stacks of paper spread before you, and it’s over before it even started. Already stooped in bad posture, his shoulders sag further, but he manages you a thin-lipped smile. “I’m sure it will go well.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” you sigh, giving his chair a shove with your foot, prompting him to go back from whence he came, “I’ll live, even if my students don’t.”

“And yet, I do love listening to you talk. How anyone could die of boredom is beyond me,” he says, disgustingly sweet and all too pleased with himself as he scoots away.

You huff a laugh and drop it, left to grapple with the inkling that he might have wanted you too. Your skin burns where he touched you, and you war with yourself to either salvage the opportunity or get back to work. Really, the better choice is obvious.

You hear the sound of his pen picking up pace again. Then the rustle of papers. And finally, an annoyed little grumble.

“(Y/N). Could I have a favor?”

“Mmhm.”

“There are two notebooks by the chalkboard,” he says, pointing over his shoulder, “Can you bring them to me?”

You convey your willingness by hopping out of your chair on stiff legs, happy to be of service while you figure out how the hell to direct yourself from here. A twinge of hope pinches your heart that he might watch you saunter over and bend down to scoop them up, but he makes no move to look at you. Like he actually needs them, and it’s not an excuse to lure you close again. The disappointment stings.

“These, right?” you ask, pointedly not sulking when you deposit his books where you can find space.

“Right,” he nods, still paying you no mind, writing away.

You pause, studying the expanse of painstaking work strewn before him, appreciative of his brilliance and ravenously jealous that it prevents your legs from being spread there instead. You resolve then to gather your things and leave; to spare him from your dreadful need. You’ll be no distraction from all that he must accomplish tonight. Jayce needs those blueprints tomorrow and by the grace of your restraint, he will have them.

At least at home you can breathe deep the smell of him that lingers on your sheets and relieve the ache between your legs at the expense of your own creeping deadlines.

As you shift away, a beseeching hand catches your wrist and you find his sharp chin tipped up, an expectant look cast up at you. You know this look intimately and relish in its sweetness. “Thank you,” he hums, and you know it to be a prompt.

Your better judgment is nowhere to be found when you decide to oblige him, bracing a hand on his lean shoulder and bestowing him with a swift, compliant kiss. Hardly a peck. Hardly a second of contact. But it is lapse enough to let your greed slip its fraying tether.

So you kiss him again, longer this time, a cautious question. Your lips cling to his, dry and delicate, when you pull away slowly, like they long to stay pressed together. You could swear he shudders. And whether you imagined it or not, it is the spark that breaks you.

You’re not going anywhere.

You linger in his space, your spine delicately bowed as you hover inches from his lips, holding your breath for the swift backhand of rejection. Ready to grab it before it strikes you and sink those fingers into your needy mouth. Ready to prove you’re worth every second of his precious time. But his hand stays tenderly affixed to your wrist; a gentle shackle, a warm anchor.  

You study his face for the barest hint of abnegation, but find only measured interest in his curious, golden stare. Like he felt that same spark too.

Something thick blooms between you, his gravity too heavy to resist. You are pulled into his atmosphere, burning up as you fall upon his lips to kiss him for a third time, deep and hungry. Your hand slides up along the vital artery in his neck, reaching around to grasp the soft hair at his nape. When you pull, gentle but urgent, he keens sweetly into your mouth, and you make him taste the voracity on your lips the way you can taste stale coffee on his.

You think to crawl into his lap, to rut through your clothes like forbidden lovers until your panties are soaked through and he can’t stand it anymore. You want his hands truly on you, roaming your body and grabbing whatever handfuls of your pliant flesh he can get.

But he breaks from you suddenly like coming up for air, nearly drowning in the riptide of your affections. His chest is heaving, and his eyes slide anxiously between your puffy, pink lips and the beckoning of his great labor beside you.

You hate him for sounding so desperately torn, for asking,  “…Can it wait?”

And you hate yourself for being so wretched, so selfish when you slowly shake your head to deny him reprieve, your throat seizing around the word, “No.”

Your heart beats faster, a fearful rhythm, when the contemplative pinch of his brow doesn’t ease. When you consider that he might not bow to your desires, like he is wed to his work and you are his mistress. You have always, always had the weaker resolve.

Your grip on him tightens, fisting handfuls of his shirt as you drag yourself closer, while your pride slips away. There are worse things than begging. “I know you’re busy, but please—please,” you press, your voice a foreign whine to you, your thumb caressing the cutting edge of his cheekbone, ”I’ll make this so quick, I promise.”

“You… promise?” he echoes, his vowels round and thick when he draws the word out.

“Yes,” you nod vigorously, “Yes.”

“If you want me badly enough to beg, I think it would be cruel to deny you,” he sighs in resignation, leaning into your touch. You’d think him put upon if not for the bloom of color on his pallid face and the growing strain against the leg of his pants. “Off, please,” he says, hooking a deft finger into the waistband of your skirt, giving it a suggestive tug.

His breath is hot on your flushed face, growing hotter still when he adds, “All of it.”

You are more than pleased to strip naked for him, but the act is efficient. A little rushed, hurrying to feel his hands roam your bare skin. You shed your clothes unceremoniously into a pool at your feet, and he is so kind as to take your hand as you step out from within it.  

He surveys your body appreciatively, and the sentiment is returned tenfold, so you venture: “And what if I also want you naked, hm?”

He shifts his leg at an odd slant and the heavy metal brace whines in protest against the exaggerated movement. “That would not be quick, moya lyubov,” he says, apologetic in a way that lances your heart.

“Unfair,” you grouse, but you are tempered by the reverence you feel for all that he is. The bony, sharp angles, the bolts in his spine, the hard metal braces and his fathomless eyes. “I love your body too, you know,” you murmur, sliding into his lap and crashing back upon his mouth like a breaking wave.

“Yes, I know,” he breathes against your lips, and you swallow the words down, vital as water.

Your hands have a strong preference for tangling into the soft strands of his hair, but if you are to make good on your promise, they are required elsewhere. You reach down between your bodies to fumble with his pants; though they are practiced, your hands feel thick and useless when they can’t seem to move quickly enough. You can feel him writhe for friction beneath you, ghosting breathy sounds into your mouth when your fingers just barely brush his cock in pursuit of its freedom. He must think you a tease.

Frustrated, he groans and scrambles to help you, knocking your hands out of the way to roughly shove his pants down. He absently leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses on your forehead when you look down to watch that delicious reveal, that moment when his cock springs free. You sigh at the sight of it, twitching and reddening at the tip, all yours to lavish with the long, sweet strokes of your affection.

His hands migrate to your thighs, kneading the thick muscle, feeling the way they quake for him. They slide further back, the blunt tips of his fingers pressing broadly into your ass, nothing short of worshipful as he rolls your flesh in his hands.  

His cock is in your shaking hands. You line up the head and move to impale yourself upon him. It will burn now and it will burn later when your delicate skin is sore and torn, but you will pay the price. Impatient creature, you are so desperate, so willing to be filled by him now, whatever the cost. Your want for his body entwined with yours is transcendental.

But he won’t let you do it. His strong hands dig into the soft swell of your ass, preventing your descent.

“Absolutely not,” he chides when you serve him with an incredulous glare, but you are slow to comply. You whine and wiggle your hips, seeking out friction on the hard tip of his cock, until he hisses, “Stop that. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help—” you grit through your teeth, faltering when you feel a hand sliding down the curve of your ass, dipping between your legs. His fingers brush through your folds with a featherlight, teasing touch. 

“You don’t want this?” he asks, “Truly?” he whispers, a low, taunting laugh at odds with your pathetic mewl as you grind down against the slick, flat press of his hand, slipping abruptly against your clit. It’s certainly not lost on him how drenched you are from hardly more than the crash of tongue and teeth. “I think you do.”

“All I want is to fuck you properly.”

“And you will,” he says leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to toy with your composure and your cunt alike, “But first—” His hand glides back, two fingers catching the dip of your entrance and pressing into that resistance, “First, I want you to fuck yourself on my fingers until I’m satisfied.”

You fist a handful of his disheveled shirt and nod weakly, composure gutted as you sink down to his knuckles. You choke on a stuttering whine when you feel him shift, flexing his fingers, stroking you from within.

“Very, very nice,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if he’s praising your compliance or the way you tighten around his spindly fingers.

Palm spayed wide with two fingers in your depths, he invites you to rock back on his hand. Coaxes you to show him what you’ll do to his cock next. He is criminally patient as you roll your hips experimentally, clutching his shoulder for support. His other hand seems magnetized to your ass, gripping your pliant flesh as you pick up the pace, writhing on his hand.

His fingers slide in and out in time with your hips, crooking deliciously to add your keening voice to the cacophony of slick, lewd sounds. The exertion has you a panting, sweaty mess by the time he adds a third finger, the air between you thick with the salty-sweet scent of arousal. When you move in long strokes, you are rewarded by the most fleeting brush of his cock between your thighs, and it grows slicker with each kiss of your clit against it. You hone in on that sensation, and it brings you dangerously close to the edge.

Your intention to finish without him is written too plainly on your pretty, scrunched up face; your eyes are too glassy and your pitchy moans spill from your lips too frequently. His hand abruptly withdraws from you and comes to rest on your flank, drenched and growing cold against your skin. Your poor, abandoned cunt throbs at the loss of him, and you regret ever suggesting that you don’t want for his long, talented fingers inside you. Lesson learned.

“Were you really that close?” he asks, peering into your face with abject fascination.

And you are so far down this lustful path that shame and embarrassment are lost to you. You cannot be made to feel shy by this man, and so you dump the truth into his lap and tell him: “Yes— Yes,” you breathe, taking his gorgeous face into your hands,“I’ve spent all afternoon thinking of fucking you, and you are… so, so good with your fingers, do you know that?”

“You’ve eh, mentioned it before,” he hums, submitting to your praise with a wry smile. “How did you imagine us, hm?

You shrug, dragging a greedy hand down his stomach, through the dark patch of hair that crowns the base of his cock. “Much like this. But in bed, so you can see all of me— how good I am at riding you,” you simper, leaning close to whisper in low tones against his cheek, “I know you like to watch your cock sink into me. Over and over again, until I’m screaming for you and you cum inside me.” You kiss his skin chastely, in direct contrast with your filthy mouth.

“Mmhm,” he nods, throat bobbing thickly when you wrap your soft hand around the neglected girth of him and give a firm, brutal stroke. His skin is still faintly sticky and achingly hot beneath your touch. “You can have your way with me now, if you like.”

“What a roundabout way of asking me to fuck you,” you laugh impishly, taking hold of him with clear and carnal intent.

This time, when you shift your hips and slip his cock into place, flesh to flesh, his hands soothe over your tremulous thighs encouragingly. His fingers are one thing, but his cock is an entirely different beast to conquer. Wet as you are, you still feel the sweet resistance, the blissful stretch as you slide down into his lap, eager to sit flush against his hips. Your brow pinches in concentration, your hands braced on his chest. You have to work for it, panting softly as you drag yourself up and down his shaft slowly before he’s slick enough to make the friction pleasant, the girth of him easy to take.

Your lips meld together on the first downstroke of your hips in which he is fully sheathed. He fits perfectly into you, like a key in its lock. You sigh into his mouth at how blissful, how correct it feels to be filled by him. But that is the extent of your tenderness. You have waited too long for this, and you are nothing short of a force of nature when it comes to taking your pleasure.

He groans at the shift in you, feeling the ripple of muscle in your powerful thighs as you begin your onslaught, bouncing yourself in his lap with lecherous intent. You lean back to grace him with a delicious eyeful of your body, delighting in how he cradles the small of your back to support you, hands splayed across your arching spine. His honey-soft gaze sharpens, and his tongue follows suit.

But his voice is nothing short of reverent when he looks up at you and asks: “Do you know what you look like?”

And you smile down at him, wicked and carnal, lifting your hands to your hair to exaggerate the bounce of your breasts, “Tell me, Viktor.”

“You ah— You look like a whore, riding my cock like this,” he rasps, bolstered by the way your sweet lips part and your head falls back in exaltation, “Like you were made to fuck me, my little menace. Next time you do this, I will make you sit on my cock and wait until I find a stopping point, do you understand?”  

You nod with the sway of your body, trusting your balance enough to reach up, to cradle an all too neglected breast in your hand. “Keep talking like that and I won’t last,” you breathe, your thighs burning and your core throbbing in time with your surging heartbeat.

“Already? Sweet (Y/N), you want to cum, lyubov?”

“Yes, yes, yes—” you chant, a prayer to him, as he builds you up, higher and higher.

“Then by all means, use me.”

And like your body in his lap, something in you collapses. You fall against his chest, your hands in his hair a death grip, and do exactly as he suggests. Your hips drop into the bony cradle of his own and don’t rise again, not fully. You rock frantically against him, approaching the realm of hysterics at the relief born of your clit against his skin. It’s so mind-numbingly good, so abysmally delicious that you’re salivating onto his shoulder. You do not care.

Not when his hands grip your hips with a gentle insistence, dragging you down harder against his cock. Not when he is bringing you to ruin with the breathy pants, the keening groans that fall against your ear, and when you can feel him writhing, trying to fuck up into you.

And not when you are finally, blissfully cumming in his lap at the behest of your clit, rubbed feverishly against the slick skin at the base of his cock.

You grab his face urgently, trying to tell him so, begging him to follow you into oblivion. But your mouth can only form the word ‘fuck’ in a long, drawn out whine against his lips as you grind yourself to completion and your eyes shutter, phantasmal colors dancing in that darkness.

The sight of you coming undone, so messy in your downfall, throws him off that very same ledge. A shallow, broken sound leaves his lips and you feel the telltale twitch of his cock emptying inside you, holding onto your hips like a man drowning. Breathing heavy, he kisses his thanks onto your lips, once, twice, before you dare to look at what you’ve done to him.

“Hello…” you whisper, almost shy, opening your eyes to a man with bruised lips, disheveled hair, and clothes entirely out of place. Pathetically in love, you are bewitched all over again.

“Hello,” he echos, soft as silk, “You are… so very good to me. I think you are my greatest temptation.”

It’s a compliment, certainly, but the weight of what you’ve done slams into you at terminal velocity. Your voice comes out scratchy and wavering, “I’m sorry— I’m so sorry, this was selfish.”

You start to squirm, trying to dismount and get out of range before he develops the good sense to be resentful of your poor choices. But his arms wrap around you, and the soothing of his hand your back keeps you in place with little effort on his part.

“I have never known you to be a selfish lover, (Y/N).” He bows to kiss your collarbone sweetly, if only to lessen the blow when he adds, “Just impatient. I would have finished my work at a reasonable hour with or without interruption. But I suppose you feel better now, yes?”

“Yes… and no,” you shrug.

“No?” he asks, and he does have the good sense to look worried.

“You haven’t even bent me over your desk yet,” you pout like it’s obvious, watching him swallow thickly; half hard, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. “But I’ll be patient now. This time, I can wait.”

[kirascottage]

hey! could you write a fluff fic of lip gallagher x reader? maybe something where he’s protective? love your writing! - nina <3

always choosing you

lip gallagher x f. reader

summary: lip saves you while at a party.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: soft and protective lip all in one, swearing, alcohol, mentions of trauma, non-consensual touching (just the waist), mentions of violence, kissing, mentions of sex (1x)

join my taglist here !

“Babe, this tastes disgusting.” You scowled while referring to the red solo cup in your hand. At your distasteful words, Lip’s head had whipped over to your twisted face, studying your wry grimace then looking at the poorly made drink most likely whipped up by a Sophomore that had no idea how to mix alcohol.

“Here, take mine.” Without a second thought, he quickly swapped the drink in your hand with his own, Vodka Cranberry. The drink he voluntarily handed you was a translucent shade of dull red and it fizzed at the top. Taking a sip, your brow arched in a consensus of the pleasant-tasting beverage.

To a family like the Gallagher’s, it was portrayed as a psychedelic for Lip Gallagher to be seen as a caring individual rather than a belligerent boy without any anger control. (especially to someone like Fiona) His emotional trauma merely enabling him to hide his concealed emotions from others, but like any other person, it took tremendous work that you were willing to put in.

“Hey, you wanna go soon?” His eyes naturally drifted around the party as he questioned you with a gentle hand sitting comfortably at your waist, his thumb moving slowly over the material of your shirt. “Sure, lower-class man parties are always a bummer.” You mutually agreed, glimpsing as to how his eyes travel across the room to a familiar redhead.

“I’m gonna go tell Ian, you good here?” His thumb pointed in a backwards direction as he walked the same way, you nodded in approval before he was off with his shoes tapping in sync to the music as he proceeded to the Kitchen while you stood in the living room against a wall.

It wasn’t usual for Lip to willingly leave you alone, especially in social situations like this one with intoxicated teenagers at your every corner. He once claimed a wannabe Tristan Dugray from Gilmore Girls would sweep you off your feet and carry you off to the sunset but you declared that would be spurious.

You picked at your nails for the first few minutes, growing bored as you waited, your fingers following the curvature of the cup along with the slight indentations and lines as your patience grew thin. Most likely Ian was stuck in a conversation with long-haired Milkovich, and he wouldn’t wanna leave just yet, his usual stall techniques including whining to his eldest brother.

Your evident impatience had swallowed you whole, eventually abandoning the remains of the drink at a battered table so your arms could cross in front of your chest and your foot tapped insanely quick against the floor. Now that tapping would've bothered anyone as the music vibrated through the drywall and the neighbours were nearing annoyance with the deliberation of filing a noise complaint.

As you were just about to set off to the kitchen, slender fingers gripped at your belt loops hauling you closer to the point your rear had struck the male stranger's chest.

“Hey! What the fu—“

“What’re you doing here all alone?” You attempted to harshly to move away at the poor tone of male seduction but the firm grip on your denim loops was restricting you from such.

“You see, I'm not alone so if you’d—“ You gestured impatiently to his hand with a curt glint in your tone whilst looking back at him; but, he cut you off with a brisk ‘S’alright, baby. I’ll take care of you.’ And no intention of letting you go.

You huffed with a squirm as his disengaged hand grasped at your waist where the emptiness of Lip’s hand had formerly been. “I have a fucking boyfriend—“ You inevitably began to yell over the music at the boy you could recognize as Clint Eastwood from your English class with a drunken smirk plastered onto his features.

This time it wasn’t his slurred voice cutting you off once again, it was a familiar rage-ridden Gallagher. “Get your hands off my fucking girlfriend.” Lip’s baritone became hoarser by the word as his hands hastily gripped at the boy's collared shirt whilst you stumbled by Ian who had briskly caught your arm hoisting you upright.

“Sorry! Dude, I didn’t know she—“

“Really? I clearly fucking heard her say she had a boyfriend,” His scowling brows drew together tightly and his lips pursed at the boy's face trembling in justified fear; as the scene grew larger with frequent yells occurring from Lip, most attendees of the party queued in on the scene.

“I guess idiots like you don’t know how to take a fucking hint.” Lip would’ve severely beaten his face in till Clint was due a trip to the ER but your magnifying grip at the back of his torso was enough to subdue his nerves and release the male off to the side and make his way to the car while gripping your hand the silent way there as the music grew fainter.

The car ride was silent, Lip’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough for distinctive marks to melt into the leather of the disk-shaped circle. He was well indeed sober, the only drink he had consumed was the one he had given to you and mostly full when it came into your possession.

When the car paused in the Gallagher driveway, wordlessly, Ian had left the car to give the both of you a moment, cautiously entering the chaotic household where most of his siblings had been asleep; Fiona being the only one awake where she had been watching a movie with V as Debbie laid on her lap. Yet, Lip hadn’t even moved his hands from the ignition; he had barely even blinked or twitched.

“Lip,” Your voice whispered, filling in the empty void of the vehicle. He silently looked over with his head slumped against the head seat, “What’s wrong?” Another whisper, your fingers rested comfortably on his knee.

“I just—“ He sighed, “—I don’t like the way he was touching you. Nobody should touch you like that.” He paused thoughtfully amid his heated sentence, clearly hesitant. Though, you remained silent as you were taciturnly aware that he was nowhere near finished.

“What if he wasn’t a creep and it was some guy that could offer you so much better than I could. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I also don’t want to hurt you.” His cerulean optics drifted over to his knee where you had been drawing circles over the denim, his anxious eyes remaining focused before you spoke up and his attention had diverted back to you.

“So don’t.” You offered a faint smile, “You’re not your parents, Lip. Take it one day at a time, if you don’t want to hurt me then you’re not going to.” You shook your head as you spoke.

“You could’ve knocked that guy into oblivion but you didn’t, and I know why you didn’t. I’m not gonna push you; Just take it day by day with me, okay?” He lethargically nodded in response, drinking in your words slowly as they enveloped his brain in a tight squeeze. Your monologue clinging to his mind as he would require those words later on.

Silently, you drifted your eyes back to the house, your eyes retaining on the Gallagher residence as he spoke. “Stay the night?”

You returned your head back to him and grinned in response, pecking his lips a few times before hopping out of the car as he followed. Trudging towards the wrought gate as he gripped at your hand, gently leading you through his house but pausing once to wave at Fiona which she reciprocated with a gleeful nod and a wave.

You had thought you entered his shared room rather quietly, changing into a shrunken pair of basketball shorts and a navy blue sweater both of which had belonged to your boyfriend. As you climbed the bunk, an adolescent boy had begun speaking with sleep lacing his words, “You better not be having sex, I'm trying to sleep.” Carl finished with a snore as he shuffled.

You both hastily muffled your laughs whilst cautiously climbing into the top bunk where his sheets laid messily due to him not making his bed the morning prior. You took very little time situating yourselves, the tip of your chin laying on his shoulder, and you were laid on your stomach. Meanwhile, his arm curled around your back and his stomach had faced the texturized ceiling.

You both laid there silently for a few minutes, maybe even a half-hour. Most likely Ian had passed out on the couch, and Carl’s snores had filled the room so it was a guarantee that it was safe to speak without any eavesdropping.

“I’ll always choose you.”

For a moment you thought he was asleep as well by how still he remained, till his face had carefully turned millimeters from yours. “I don’t care if it’s an Italian mafia man or some belligerent idiot from English class. I’ll always choose you, Philip Gallagher.” You muttered into his shoulder, a tinge of minor embarrassment creeping stealthily up your neck at the sappy confession.

“I’ll always choose you, too.” He whispered back, he wasn’t much for words but he could always muster up a considerable fraction of what you meant to him. Kissing the tip of your nose, he whispered again whilst placing his chin on your forehead. “Now go to sleep, or you’ll be bitchy in the morning.”

taglist: @miiamour @bugswrld @zzzfour @black-rose-29 @sprucewoodlover @bloodyrockwork @myalupinblack

[bibblelevi]

(warning: NSFW video link!!)

sar, I’ve been going through your sub levi thirsts and then i saw this video and my brain sort of just malfunctioned .

imagine sending ceo!levi to work in a cockring, getting him all hard before he left. once he’s at his desk, he’s trying to concentrate on the computer screen but he can just feel that fucking toy around his dick, pressing against the fabric of his pants.

because it’s such a distraction, he tries to…readjust himself. innocently. but the feeling gets too much, and then he’s fully trying to jerk himself off work. he calls you straight away, begging for your permission to take off the cockring and cum into his hand.

IM SORRY IF THIS IS TOO MUCH IM OVULATING

Warnings for NSFW Twitter video, cock rings, orgasm denial, submissive Levi, semi-public, mommy kink (“mommy” and “little boy”)

I’m so not okay now after reading this. Levi and exhibitionism is so good because he’s just a shy boy. It’s fun to mess with his composure and give him a reminder of who he belongs to—and a good way to put him in his place when he’s with you… He might be big bad CEO but really, he’s just a grumpy, needy brat.

That’s why you’re not surprised in the slightest when you get a call from him not too long after he arrives at his office. You have to say, you thought he’d last longer, but also, you miss him already, so you’ll take any excuse you can to hear his voice.

“Hi, baby,” you speak into the phone, your tone purposefully smoother.

He’s silent for a few seconds before grunting, “This is too distracting.”

“Too distracting?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly is distracting you about it?”

“It’s… fuck—“ He lowers his voice, then says, “It’s tight. Okay?”

You laugh softly, heat blooming across your cheeks. “I know for a fact it’s not hurting you. I checked it three times.” A shaky sigh echoes over the line, and you raise your brows. “Are you seriously fucking yourself right now.”

Silence, and then, “No.”

“You little liar,” you chuckle. “Lying little boys don’t get to cum, Levi. You should know that by now.”

Another heavy breath suggests his frustration, and he bites back a whine. “I-I’m sorry. I just can’t focus. I… I need it to go away.”

“Then stop touching, and it will.”

Finally, he makes a complaining noise into the phone. “No, because the fucking ring. ‘s not going down. You goddamn tease.”

His tone is absolutely worthy of a punishment. But you know he’s suffering enough right now, so you decide to file the knowledge away for a later time.

“You can always just take it off.”

“Do I have your permission?”

“No, you don’t,” you test him. “But you can take it off.”

He’s silent again. His brain is foggy, and he’s slouched in his chair, pants unzipped and unbuttoned, cock pulled out and resting in his free palm. His jaw feathers as he strokes himself, chest sinking inward with heavy breaths. He’s started to drip already. How embarrassing.

Regret is already forming, too. He knows it’s unacceptable, the way he was being demanding and short with you. His frustration got the better of him. But he couldn’t help it. He just snapped.

So, he weighs his option. Either he can do whatever the hell he wants, and get his ass punished; or he can persevere and come home to you with the confidence that he was well-behaved all day. He could always take it off, rub one out, and slide the ring back on, but lying to you is out of the cards. He would never lie. Ever. And you know that, too.

He’s so close already, and he drops his hand, breaths hiccuping.

“Mommy…” he murmurs, brows drawing. A familiar ache settles in his chest. “I miss you.”

“Oh, I miss you too, baby. But you’ll be home soon enough.”

He sulks.

“I’ll take care of you with my mouth, just the way you like it.”

Levi gasps at that, eyes glazed as he reflects on all the past times your lips have been wrapped around him. He thinks if your tongue, your hands, your noises. That loving, affectionate look in your eyes when you peer up through your lashes. You, kissing his thighs and stomach.

You can hear his breathing pick up. “But only if you’re a good boy for me. You only get my mouth on your cute dick if you behave. Sound like a deal?”

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Mmn, yeah.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.”

His heart flutters, the corner of his mouth tweaking. “Stay on the phone for a little longer while I review these numbers…”

“Of course, my love.”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Gomez Addams

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Gomez meet at the funeral of one of your distant relatives. Most of your immediate family was more or less unsure of exactly who this uncle/aunt was and if they’d ever even met them but out of respect for the supposed far removed individual, they’d all agreed to attend, dragging you along with them. 

- For obvious reasons, you weren’t in mourning. In fact, you were more intrigued than anything. A family member you never met dies, you’re invited to their funeral which is occurring in your town; another reason as to why it was so strange that you’d never met them, and said funeral is full of …them. 

- Them, as in the strange individuals who were sporadically seated and standing amongst and between you and the other members of your family: all of them gothic and occasionally deformed. You felt like you were attending an intricate Halloween party rather than a funeral. 

- You could tell that nearly all of your family was bewildered and trying to remain as cool and collected as possible, but their weariness was dreadfully apparent. Regardless, all of the other attendees seemed perfectly oblivious as they conversed with each other and whoever was closest to them. 

- It’s while you’re in the cemetery by the open grave that you first take notice of Gomez. One of the people you’re with probably draws your attention to him, mainly because he’s been staring at you all day, a look of awe, admiration, and intrigue on his face; as though he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. 

- He approaches you as everyone is walking to their cars after the burial, eagerly introducing himself and complimenting how you look in your dress, telling you how he could hardly pay attention to the corpse. Intrigued and morbidly flattered, you thanked him and told him your name, allowing him to press a kiss to your hand in greeting. 

- He called out to the crowd that everyone was invited to his home to celebrate; you just assumed he meant for the reception, before he turned to you and told you how he hoped to see you there, opening the door to your car for you and saying that he’ll count the seconds until you’re reunited.

- So you found yourself pulling up to the enormous family estate, your heart racing and secretly looking forward to seeing the man who seemed absolutely taken with you. 

- Once you were welcomed inside, you found that the man had meant party. A band was playing, people were dancing, drinking, and conversing loudly; and right in the middle of it was Gomez. It seemed your relative was friends with some pretty interesting people. 

- The minute the man saw you, he immediately made his way over, greeting you romantically and asking if you’d like to dance. Slightly taken aback by the sheer intensity of his interest in you, you immediately agreed without thinking and were swept onto the dance floor in a graceful waltz mere seconds later.

- Later that night, you find yourself seated next to him in his families graveyard, stars shining above you and the last of his guests filing out of the house and into their cars.

- He’d been waxing poetic and pressing kisses to your hand all night but none of it would compare to the kiss he’d laid on your lips in that moment. It was searing: passionate enough to steal your breath away and make your head spin as you went delightfully limp in his arms.

- When he pulled away, he almost immediately asked you to marry him and the clouded state of your brain made you nearly accept. But you managed to come to your senses and breathlessly offer a first date instead, which he happily agreed to before pulling you in for another kiss.

- You might as well have agreed to marry him right then and there because there was no chance that you’d ever be rid of him after that moment, not that you wanted to be.

- Prepare to be ravaged at random: whenever, wherever. Gomez fully believes that pda is necessary in a relationship; or at least is just too swept up in his love and lust for you to care about what other people are witnessing. You’ll have to be the one to stop him if you don’t want someone seeing something.

- Handholding; particularly when the two of you are sitting together. He’ll just grab onto you and place your intertwined fingers on one of your laps.

- His arms wrapped around you constantly. You’re convinced he’s part octopus with the way he just connects himself to you.

- Finger and arm kisses.

- Gomez is pretty much incapable of giving you only one kiss. Anytime his lips touch yours, you’re guaranteed to have him connected to you for at least a minute; whether it’s in a slow and deep kiss or a bunch of feverish passionate ones.

- The sheer amount of pet names and nicknames he uses on you is honestly impressive. You didn’t even realize that there were that many options out there; though he definitely uses Cara Mia the most.

- There’s specific pet names and types of affection you give him that just drive him wild; though anything you do drives him wild if we’re being honest. For instance, you calling him a pet name in a different language will turn him into mush.

- It would be genuinely concerning if you weren’t cuddling with Gomez every night. He’d be both upset and worried. Lay your beautiful head on his shoulder and talk with him until the sun rises or he’s going to buy a pastel!

- Being woken up by him and spending your every waking moment together. He can never get enough of you, no matter how long you’ve been together.

- Doing everything together. The two of you are inseparable regardless of what either of you have to get done. You just love being in each other’s presences; even if your both just doing your own thing in the same room.

- Knowing all of each other’s habits like the back of your hand.

- He loves hearing you talk and watching you do your hobbies. Please just be yourself and do weird shit, he loves you so much.

- Gazing deep and lovingly into each other’s eyes.

- Bridal carrying.

- Constant morbid yet romantic talk.

- So many compliments …just so many.

- He would legitimately do anything for you. You want roses? You get a whole room full of them. Like diamonds. He gives you his uncles treasure chest. Hell, he’d give you the shirt off his back and let you step on him if you wanted; sounds like fun.

- You know that the Addams family has money, and if there’s one thing Gomez likes to do, it’s dote on and spoil you. You can catch yourself taking vacations to the Bermuda Triangle and getting designer gifts from your cyanide daddy all year round.

- Going out on dates at least once every week; depending on how much you like to go out. You never have to ask him to take you out, he’s already got at least two outings planned by the time a new week starts up.

- Going out for dinner and a dance. If you aren’t tangoing, blowing peoples minds, and taking turns getting jealous over your significant other, what's even the point of date night?

- The amount of times you wind up being “dipped” in a week is impressive. I’m convinced that you’re slightly horizontal more than you’re vertical whenever you’re in his presence.

- Getting your portrait painted. He has a huge canvas of you hanging up in his office. I cannot stress how massive that painting is.

- Going on a gondola ride in the vault.

- Sitting out in the cemetery at night and taking strolls through the graveyard.

- Performing seances and playing midnight games.

- Throwing big Addams family parties and getting launched headfirst into whatever chaotic situations arise from being a part of it.

- Trying to play matchmaker with some of his relatives. Fester needs all the help he can get most of the time so you tend to focus on him.

- Adopting strange individuals. He’s really accepting and trusting and sometimes people will just show up at your house and neither of you will bother asking the other who it is, just assuming they’re the others relative when, in reality, they’re neither. By the time you do bring them up, they’re already such an integral part of your lives that you don’t even bother asking them to leave.

- Getting to hear all of his chaotic memories. Sometimes you just have to sit back and wonder what kind of man you’re allowing yourself to date.

- Comforting him when he gets emotional.

- He always looks to you when he doesn’t understand something. He wholeheartedly believes that you both: know best and know all.

- Please tell him about unpleasant shit. He wants to hear about it.

- You genuinely become more like him everyday without even meaning to; you just get desensitized to horror and despair and find yourself enjoying it rather than fearing it.

- Watching horror films like they’re comedies;  he does at least. Just ignore the looks you get when you’re in a theater and he’s laughing while everybody else is screaming.

- Your gothic lover canonically coughs up blood so expect him to have a few more odd little quirks like that. It’s one of the reasons why you never have to worry about your insecurities around him. Stretchmarks or bad skin? Gomez is attracted to literal corpses, believe me, you’re fine.  

- Knowing exactly how to turn him on. This man is horny for you 24/7 and he’s horribly transparent about it.

- He definitely likes to show off but he also just likes seeing you when adrenaline is coursing through his veins and seeing that proud little eyebrow raise that you do whenever he has his opponent on the ground or strikes exactly where he wants to. He gets particularly handsy after a duel.

- He loves to have his life be put in compromising positions so just like …throw a knife at him every now and again. Hire an assassin, have fun with it.

- Keeping him on a leash. Gomez is a cross between a childish spirit and an uncontrollable beast so it’s sometimes up to you to keep him in line.

“Later Gomez.”

- He’s adorably oblivious to how people feel about him and his family and you sort of just have to take a note from his book and not care about other peoples opinions.

- Gomez is an insanely jealous individual. He doesn’t like you even speaking about ex’s and other men; unless they’re obviously not a threat, let alone interacting with them. He’ll usually find a way to distract you from them whenever he starts to feel jealous so it’s at least an enjoyable experience for you.

- He’d die for you, he’d kill for you. Either way, what bliss.

- As much as he loves passionate emotions and unpleasant things, the two of you never fight, like ever. You’re just kind of the perfect couple and know each other too well to have a reason to. You’re always on the same wavelength.

- That being said, on the off chance that you do fight, Gomez is willing to crawl through broken glass and hot coals to make it up to you. You’re the light of his life, the moon to his stars, and he cannot live without you: whatever he has to do will feel like childs play compared to the agony he feels when thinking about how he’s upset you.

- Does he say anything besides telling you how much he loves you is the real question. It’s like 80% of his vocabulary.

- Gomez was ready to die by your side the moment he laid eyes on you. He’s looking forward to the day he can be buried with you and consumed by worms while the two of you hold cold, lifeless hands.