#i like that this is exactly 1200 words

[summerfevers]

if you’re up to it i would very much like to know your white collar neal timeline🎤🎤

this turned out to have many asides and be very long so the tl;dr is: peter have you considered that he's just a twenty-something teenage girl :( ?

timeline:

neal born 1984 ish. he's an aries and a millennial

neal, ellen, and neal's mom go into witsec 1987, neal age 3

2003 adler scandal i fucking guess. neal age 19

neal arrested probably mid 2005, 21

neal goes to jail for the first time, i want to say early 2006, age almost 22

pilot is set late summer 2009, age 25

same-sex marriage legalized in new york june 24th 2011, they talk about this in season 3 episode 14 which is soon after. neal's 27

more or less a year later–let's go with less–neal tells sam that he has spent the last decade running from the truth he learned at 18. taking him literally that it was 10 years ago he is now 28 it is the end of season 4 and 2012

the end of season 4 to the series finale is less than a year. he is 29 its 2013.

when we see him in paris he might be 30 but that doesn't count To Me

i present my evidence:

i don't know where we got "neal is 35" from i cant make it work. neal and co. went into witsec (which i have actually since learned is not available to people living in dc, they have their own version but it is not overseen by the federal marshalls, i don't think they can give you as many legal documents like a ssn, and they don't help you set up your new life as much? something about neal's life that would be interesting to explore.) when he was three and ellen says in season 4 that she's been in witsec for Nearly three decades. confirmed 33 or under in season 4

he also says to "sam" more than once that he's spent the last decade running from the truth he learned at 18–he very well could be rounding down here and mean like 12-13 years but i am Choosing to Believe he meant that literally. we are now at youngest 28, it is the last episode of season 4.

now due to the way the show is structured and the fact that it is never really winter. ok maybe winter 1 time because i can see in my mind neal in his little wool coat and earmuffs but largely it is summer and we never have a christmas episode. anyway due to All That our only real anchor in the timeline is that the episode where diana is Grappling with her engagement to Christie happens immediately following june 24th 2011, when same-sex marriage was legalized in new york. and also that later that season in the commutation hearing they say that neal has served 2 years of his sentence. so the pilot was set in 2009 when it aired we are at one year/season. but as the series goes on the episodes and even seasons have increasingly shorter gaps between them, and by season 6 we haven't even finished our four years. by the end of season 4 i want to say we are three years into his sentence and he's 28. between the end of season 4 and when neal dies in season 6 there has got to be less than a year that passes. actually deadass why was neal so obsessed with the pink panther case ending his sentence early we are like months out king. i get the injustice the system is broken they'd keep him forever but to people outside his circle he must have looked sooo silly for that. but whatever. he is 29 when he dies and 30 when we see him again in paris, his roaring 20s of crime and incarceration over.

Anyway where the "neal is 35 or at least claims to be much older than this timeline would say he is" probably came from in-universe is that the adler scandal takes place SEVEN years before s2 when peter confronts neal about it. 2003?????? guys the thing we have to understand, to embrace, about neal's personal timeline is that i do not think anyone in that writers room was really grasping how much they had neal do in so short a time. 2003 he is like 19 guys. maybe by the time peter says it was 7 years ago it was 2011 ? and the adler thing was 2004? but no that couldn't work because it's mid 2011 like a year later in s3. so basically neal walks out of st louis and has a magical girl transformation through which he immediately becomes a great conman and criminal. and he meets mozzie basically straight away. he should still be in like calculus and ap lit at this juncture. and then they go right into the adler con ??? and neal is obviously lying through his teeth to everyone saying he is at least 21 but probably more along the lines of 23. and while most of his aliases are eventually found out by peter if no one else, no one ever goes "wait IS HE a teenager?" no one is guessing this.

so we spend a couple months fucking around and fucking UP with adler, kate probably doesn't know how old we actually are, this relationship cannot actually last very long at all because we are truly on a time crunch right now. we have less than three years for neals entire criminal career before he goes to jail. i know i said on the bullet list he went to jail early 2006 he has got to have been arrested like summer 2005 at the latest to be tried and sentenced by then and i feel like even that might be tight because he was suspected of so many other things they wanted to get evidence for. but how is neal teaching kate to be a criminal less than a year into his own career. i think neal must have been a hardcore improv kid for this to work honestly. i bet he competed. so our golden days of mozzie neal and kate against the world lasts maybe a year at best before neal and kate fight and she leaves and he spends months trying to get her back and get her attention and commits a truly breathtaking amount of crimes in this time.

also i'm skipping through forging bonds right now trying to flesh out this timeline and it was incredibly shady of peter and co to see that kate is doing so much to stay hidden from her ex boyfriend and then to reveal her to neal in order to catch him. like that was fucked up they didn't know neal yet he hadn't been suspected of violent crimes but they didn't know why kate was working so hard to escape him. like it worked out ok (arguably, but that could be a different post) but they had no reason to trust neal not to hurt her like this. she could have been running from an abusive situation he's known to be a talented criminal with no fears about escalating his crimes he could have killed her. one thing about the fbi is that they never once care about kate's safety and it does indeed get her killed one day.

in conclusion neal is known as one of the best forgers in the world when he is arrested in 2005 at age 21 maybe 2 years into his criminal career. here i am 21 what have i accomplished

[elegantartisanperson]

If you could live in either outer space or underwater, which would you choose?

I don't know if there's really a way to live underwater rn, maybe on a submarine? and as far as I know living in space currently sucks. I think living on a submarine would be a bit more comfortable and better and you'd have more privacy and maybe even space and I think you can eat better food there, so probably that as of now. BUT this kinda sucks, if there was a way to live in outer space in like an advanced sci fi space craft like on star trek or futurama or scavengers reign or any other show that shows them I'd choose that, it's so much more interesting and It's not like I have to spend all my time underwater or flying in outer space right? I could visit all the different planets and maybe even see some outer space nature and life. It would be bit scary at times in either setting, and with being in outer space it would take longer to refill on food or water etc, but I think I'd still choose that I think this is supposed to be a fun ask and not "I'M GONNA ACTUALLY PUT YOU IN OF THOSE SETTINGS" kind of thing so I tried not overthinking it all that much and making it wayyyyyyy longer than it should be

[bahablastplz]

Told you (Prove it Pt.2) Seungmin x Reader

Part 2 to Prove it: (Kim Seungmin, your best friend, is so fucking smug all the time. You make the mistake of implying that no man can finger a girl the way they do in porn, and you make the mistake of challenging him when he tells you he can.) Content: Smut, fluff Warnings: P in V sex, oral (m! receiving), soft dom Seungmin, porn with feelings WC: 1200

“I bet that I can make you squirt all over my cock,” he says with a smile. He doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks. 

You already know what you’re doing when you meet his eyes and say, “Prove it.” 

With two fingers curling in a ‘come hither’ motion, you’re standing and taking your pants back off. You meet him on the couch in two long strides, swinging one leg over each of his own to straddle him. 

You can feel his hard length pressing into your already soaked cunt and you grind against him, seeking friction. He lets out a breathy sigh, his hands coming to your hips to still your motions. 

“You and I already know that I don’t have to prove myself, right?” he grins. 

“Shut up, Seungmin. Just please, shut up already,” you beg. “You’re so full of yourself. You know I can’t stand it, you just have to be right all the time, don’t you?” 

“I don’t have to be right, I just am,” he replies. He grabs you tighter and brings you even closer, bare pussy now fully grinding against his cock. He buries his head into the crevice of your neck and you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

When you stand, shaky legs, it’s so you can pull his pants down. You’re too eager and desperate and you can’t find it within you to be embarrassed, not even from the wet spot you left behind on his sweats. His hard length springs up and he’s big, infuriatingly so, because of course Kim Seungmin has to be both cocky and good at everything, and of course he has to have the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen. You almost scoff. 

He almost stutters when you get on your knees in front of him but he recomposes himself just as quickly. Your hand wraps around his length and strokes him experimentally. You’re as silent as you can be just to hear the sharp inhale he gives, because try as he might act indifferent, you’re determined to pull those sounds out of him if it’s the last thing you do. 

“Y/N…” he starts. When he looks down at you his eyes are bright, excited. You lean forward with a smirk and take his tip in your mouth, swirling around it with your tongue. He’s salty and tastes like precum, and you gather as much saliva as you can in your mouth and let it drip onto his cock, getting him nice and wet. Your hand glides up and down his length and the sound of it is pornographic, wet and loud and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. He’s starting to look debauched which is exactly what you wanted, and when he starts to buck his hips up into your hand you still. “No, please–” he says. 

“Please, what?” you say with a smirk, repeating his words from earlier. 

He blinks at you before standing, grabbing you by the arms and all but throwing you onto the couch in a display of dominence. You’re at an utter loss for words as he climbs on top of you, spreading your legs wide open for him just like before. 

He grabs his cock and pushes it between your folds, covering it with your wetness. He taps his tip against your clit a few times, teasing. 

“Seungmin, I swear to god… I love you but if you keep on teasing me like this I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” you say. He freezes, wide eyes and lips slightly parted. You furrow your brows, wondering what could have possibly, finally caused him to drop his facade. 

“You love me?” he asks, breathless. 

“Of course I do, idiot. You infuriate me, but–” 

His lips crash against yours. It’s hard and it’s messy and it catches you off guard but his tongue dances against yours as if it was the only chance to kiss you he would ever have. 

He pushes his length into you then, grabbing the backs of your knees and lifting them up as his pelvis is flush against yours. His lips never leave yours, not even when your hands come up to the back of his head to push him even closer to you. 

“Fuck, Seungmin,” you say as you finally pull away. His pupils are blown wide and he’s finally panting. You feel him twitch inside you. “So, are you going to show me how good you fuck me? Are you going to make me squirt all over your cock?” you taunt him, intentionally trying to rile him up. 

He shuts you up real fast, exiting you fully just to snap his hips back into you, hard. He cracks a half-grin at the moan you let out. 

“Go ahead, say it again,” he teases. 

“Are you going to make me–” Snap. His hips smack into yours again, a loud wet sound permeating through the air. 

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” he asks. He’s totally fucking with you, you can tell by the amusement spread across his features. 

“Are you–” Snap. You moan loudly in response much to your chagrin.

When you look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meet. His smile falters and his eyes flit down to your lips and suddenly you’re kissing again, his hips sporadically thrusting into you with a desperateness that you didn’t think you would ever see on him. 

“Tell me you love me,” he pleads. Your heart flutters hard in your chest. 

“I love you, Seung,” you tell him. It’s hands on skin, grabbing onto anything they can in a last-ditch effort to ground yourself, skin against skin, fingers in your hair, lips against your neck… 

Everything around you is undeniably Seungmin. It’s all you know, and you can’t even bring yourself to think of your past-self, just moments ago trying to get him to lose the smugness. It’s almost as if you don’t care anymore, not when all you care about is him and how he feels, here and now. 

You feel your stomach tighten and you can tell you’re getting close. You try to warn him but you can tell he already knows as his hand snakes down between you two to rub at your already sensitive clit. 

“Cum for me,” he begs. “I love you too, just cum for me, please.” 

That’s all it takes. Your toes curl and your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched moan and you clench around him hard, undoubtedly giving him exactly what he wanted as you squirt all over him, soaking his chest with your essence. He talks you through it, slamming his hips into yours until you’ve come down from your release before he pulls out and spills all over your stomach and chest, painting you in a reminder that you are his. 

He collapses on top of you and you both still, panting heavily. You don’t even realize that your hands are running up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him. You both lay still for several moments, neither person talking. There’s not much that needs to be said, you think. 

Until you hear him suck in a breath, suppressing a laugh. 

“What?” you question. 

“Told you so,” he says. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── Thank you guys for all of the love on part 1!! Hope this is everything you wanted! Tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 here: @skzswife @ka0ila @applekiwi3202 @nightmarenyxx @blondie-hyun @softkisshyunjin @compersian @bansheehunteremissary

[troublesomesnitch]

Modern Aemond - Breeding Kink

Modern!Aemond x Reader

You and Aemond explore his breeding kink for the first time.

Quick smut drabble because I was in a dirty mood and wanted to practice some things!

Contents: modern AU, foreplay only, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty talk. Porn with zero plot.

Warnings: this is heavy on the kinks, we're getting a little fetishy in here.

Words: 1200

You have only just rinsed off the last dish in the sink when Aemond rises from his chair and comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chest to your back. 

He did offer to help you with the post-dinner cleanup, but you refused like you always do - you like things done your way, and Aemond likes them done his way, and unfortunately your preferred approaches are often in conflict. 

And besides, you wanted him to watch you. You wanted him to come and embrace you exactly like this. 

He brushes his lips against the back of your neck, from your shoulder and all the way to your ear, pressing a lingering kiss to the delicate skin behind it. His touch is gentle, but the intent is clear, and it makes you giddy with excitement. For obvious reasons, but also because you have something special planned for tonight. 

Since the first time you slept with Aemond, you have known about this little kink of his. It is not very subtle - he loves to kiss your chest and stomach, he loves your breasts, he loves when you tell him to come inside of you. But he has never spoken about it, and neither have you. Aemond is not the sort of man who will happily tell you all about his dirty fantasies. He is much too buttoned up for that; too proud and reserved. 

So you must proceed with caution. 

“Touch me,” you sigh, smiling to yourself when Aemond does exactly as you expected, sliding his hand down your thigh and in between your legs. You are damp there already, and he gives a hum of appreciation, but he’ll have to wait a little longer before you get to that part.

"No -" you bite your lip, and your hand comes to rest on top of his, moving it higher until it's on your stomach instead. Right where it’s soft and rounded. "Touch me here."

He hesitates, not quite catching your drift, or maybe he doesn’t want to catch it. But you guide his hand over your belly, letting him feel where it curves, the softness of it, the little bump of protective fat that you spent your teenage years despairing over. 

It feels very taboo to be touched in such a way, and your heart beats fast when you look back at him over your shoulder. “You like that, don't you? Does it turn you on?”

There’s a slight pause, and Aemond presses his forehead to your hair before he answers with a reluctant yes.

"I like it too," you whisper, letting your head fall back against his chest. "I like to imagine it - being pregnant with your child - being all round and heavy..."

Aemond gives the softest moan, right in your ear, and he holds you tight against his body, his cock growing hard against your backside.

Oh he likes it, alright. He likes it a lot.

“Say that again,” he breathes, hoarse and husky. “Tell me you want to be heavy with my child.”

“I want to be heavy with your child -” you wiggle against his crotch, drawing another little gasp from him. “I want you to fuck a baby into me - fill me with your cum -”

You blush at your own words, and Aemond stifles a groan. His hips move slowly against you, rubbing his stiff cock against your bottom, and his hand keeps stroking you even without your own to guide it. Moving in little circles over your stomach, pretending that you’re already full of him. 

Your lips part, and you turn your neck around as best as you can, desperate for a kiss. It is an awkward angle, and even more so because Aemond has a fair bit of height on you, but you tilt your face up, and he bends his face down, and you meet somewhere in the middle. Except he doesn't kiss you, not really. Rather, he brushes his lips against yours, so slowly, teasing you with soft and delicate touches. No open mouths, no tongue. Just the feel of his warm, wet lips, and when you reach up for more, he draws back.

"Kiss me -" you beg, but Aemond shakes his head, and his arm around your waist holds you firmly in place.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he breathes.

He loves it when you say filthy things. It gets him so hard, drives him mad with need. But he is making it difficult for you now, with the way he's holding you, the way he’s thrusting up against your arse. You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a whole sentence.  

“Gently,” you manage. “I want you to be gentle - I want you to make love to me.”

“I can do that,” he whispers, brushing his nose against your hair, dipping lower to nibble at your ear. 

“And - oh - I want you to come inside of me - want you to empty your balls right into my womb -”

Aemond moans loudly at that, much too aroused now to feel self-conscious about anything. He touches you with both hands, gently and intimately, caressing the curve of your stomach and rubbing his palms over your soft little belly. Savouring how warm you are, how smooth and lovely. Perfectly ripe for what he’d like to put in you. 

“I want you to imagine it,” you breathe, every bit as turned on as he is. “I'd be pregnant, and you would touch me like you're doing now, and feel my belly all full and round, and my tits too -”

“Fuck,” Aemond groans, and his hips jerk against you. “Oh - fuck.”

He turns you around to face him and easily lifts you onto the kitchen counter, so he can lean down to kiss you. Properly, finally. You whimper when his tongue slides against yours, and you slip your hand down to stroke the hard bulge in his pants, squeezing it firmly before you undo his zipper and wrap your fingers around his cock. 

The tip of it is wet with precum, and you spread the fluid over his shaft before you begin to stroke him in earnest, dragging his foreskin up and down at a steady pace; tightening your grip as the filthiest words spill from your lips. 

Do you want to get me pregnant, Aemond? Do you want to feel my little wet cunt? Do you want to spurt your hot seed inside me?

“Stop -” he pants. “You'll make me come -”

“I want you to be close,” you coo, still stroking him, although you do slow down the pace. “I want your cock so hard, and your balls full of cum - big and heavy with it, so you can breed me properly -”

“Stop,” Aemond hisses, and his fingers close around your wrist, gripping it so tight that it hurts. His eyes are dark, and his voice is low and with that hint of a temper that excites you more than it probably should. You like that he’s a little moody. Volatile, even. 

“I want you,” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, desperate to feel him closer. “Call me something bad, call me a slut -”

“You are a slut,” he whispers in between kisses. “You’re my dirty little slut - my filthy little whore -”

You moan in response, and there’s a playful look on your face when you pull back and look up at him through your eyelashes.

“We should practice - making a baby…” 

“Yes,” Aemond says with the most devastating smirk. “We should.”

Tagging: @arcielee @helaelaemond

[scribble-dribble-writes]

You're losing me

---

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Word Count: 1200

Warning: none, just a little angst and fluff

Content: You call Miguel to come sleep

---

"Won’t you come to sleep?", you asked.

"No.", he responded,

"Not yet.", his eyes glued to the screen in front of him

It frustrated you. Yes, his need to keep the multiverse from collapsing was important but then again, you thought you were too.

You knew a little of his past but everytime he had to recollect what he had lost, it only broke him. So you spent your time, trying to get him to see that his present could be just as good only if he could allow himself to enjoy it. Only if he could stop for a second and see you. But he didn’t. He was busy and annoyed and sleep deprived. But then again so were you.

You spent the nights waiting for him that you would often fall asleep in the extra seat next to him. You had your dinners alone, while his plate remained untouched on his table.

But today, as his back faced you and as his fingers moved over the keyboard, you were certain you had had enough. If being gentle was getting you nowhere, then you will get him to listen to you plea. You will hold his gaze and as you thought this, you walked towards him despite him telling you to leave. Your blanket was wrapped around you in a way that it hid your skin from the cold, your body yearning for the warmth of his touch.

Your night dress contoured to the shape of your body and your eyes embodied the depth of his stare. He was engrossed in his world, unaware of what you were going to do, which was exactly where you wanted him. When you got close enough, you held onto the side of his arm rest and got onto his lap.

“What are – he began to protest

But giving him time to respond meant he would stop you from being close to him. He will hold you away like you were something he was scared of.

You slung your legs over the other side and settled yourself within his large arms, that fit you well like a cradle, a place you could finally rest, feeling confident that you knew of his weakness, the softness he harboured only for you.

As you laid still with your eyes closed, you expected him to grow angry or tell you off but instead, you heard his sigh, his arms relaxing and when silence filled the space again, his soft chuckle. Not what you expected but even more to your surprise, you felt his hands rest on your waist as though his calculations had let him know that this display of comfort wasn’t life threatening.

With the faint sound of a click, you could hear a little girl’s laugh and then followed by one that sounded like his own. When you opened your eyes, what you saw gripped your heart. He was a father. And like in most cases, that meant he had a family of his own.

The levity of your act broke and in it’s place fear and guilt flooded in. It made more sense now, his distance and standoffish nature. The worry in his eyes every time he looked at you. You were an annoyance in a life he had well established. You turned your gaze to see him only to realize that he knew you were awake the whole time.

His dark eyes were on yours, his face still emotionless. But the truth was evident now. You cannot force a man whose heart already belonged to someone else, to love you instead.

So you pushed away from him but you were caught in the net of his arms. He wasn’t letting you go. So you fought, your palms folded into fists as you gently rammed them on his chest as your vision blurred. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Your heart wasn’t supposed to break with all the love you held for him.

But his hands found your shoulders and he held you steady when you came to understand he had whispered your name this entire time, trying to get you to look at him. So you did. With your tear stained cheeks and hurt gaze.

“Miguel.”, you mustered your strength to say his name and in response he hummed as he wiped your tears and cupped your cheek.

“All you had to do was tell me and I would have left. You had an entire life here that I knew nothing about.”, I leaned into his touch like a river running to sea.

“There is nothing to tell.”, his eyes roamed the features of your face as though he was seeing you for the first time.

“I saw my daughter disappear right in front my eyes. The only universe I wanted to save, was the one I couldn’t.”, he spoke with such tenderness that you were sure no one else knew about.

He brought you close, the warmth of his hold spreading through your body, and slowly he placed his forehead on yours.

“So please, let me save the rest, amor.” He spoke, his soft breath cascading over your lips. But it only saddened you. That he never viewed the universe you were in, in the same way you viewed it.

“You often forget that for me, this is the only universe I care about.”, you said and he pulled back to see you.  

“Because it has you in it.”, you caressed his cheek as he gave you the faintest hint of a smile.

“And every time you push me away, you vanish before my eyes.”, you sighed and got off him to see a ghostly look in his eyes.

You turned to leave when he held your wrist, preventing you to take another step away from him.

“Is that how I’ve made you feel?”, he asked refraining to look at you, almost ashamed with himself.

“Isn’t that how I make you feel?”, you retorted.

“I see the fear in your eyes, Miguel. Every time you see me. That if you liked it here, you’d stop living in the past.”, you said, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist that you were certain he could hear the fast rhythm of your heartbeat.

“Mierda”, he muttered when his eyes found yours again.

“si tan solo supieras”, he reeled you towards him.

“What?”, you asked.

“If I had known what?”, you asked again softly, your eyes searching his.

But he didn’t give you an answer, instead his hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer till you had no room to escape, no place to run but give in. He tipped your chin up, your nose almost touching his.

“That I fear losing this universe too. That there will be no redemption for me if I saw you slip away from my fingers.”, he whispered as he placed his lips on yours and all you could do was give in.

“I cannot replace what you've lost.”, you said in between his starving kisses.

“But I can give you new memories if you wish.”, you continued breathless as he groaned against your lips as he pulled away, his eyes alive for the first time as his chest rose and fell.

“LYLA.”, he called impatiently and it made you smile.

“Shut down for the night.”, he got up carrying you with him.

“I’m going to sleep.”, he spoke to the AI.

“This is a historical moment in all universes.” LYLA laughed but he only turned to you, now sporting a full tender smile.

“Mi dulce esposa has called for me.”, he nuzzled into your neck as he walked out his lab.

The multiverse held its guard up through the night and as  Miguel held you close in the comfort of his home, intertwined together over soft sheets, he grew to realize that the universe he was in was the only one that mattered.

---

Disclaimer - lo sé un poco Espanol pero I used Google translate for some words and phrases, so excuse the mistakes if you find any. I am not a native speaker.

[authorhjk1]

Hi writer-nim, I'm no detective, but since checking out and enjoying your colour series I'll take a wild guess though I may be wrong lol but the one with the * has to somewhat be RV related since the first two stories about it are connected but the secret lies in the characters mentioned during the first one with Irene and since Seulgi showed up in the second one I guess the remaining members would show up then (I hope) but since Yeri was already written in black I hope you could make another one of her in this? She looked amazing here I guess this counts as purple even though she has a white dress inside lol but the outfit sure is tempting since it looks so easy to rip off everything from her, I mean who doesn't want to see maknae tiddies being cared for while bouncing up and down all over your face. But its ok if you can't make one more of her, however you can make this for a future piece if you feel like it. Have a nice day.

https://kpopping.com/documents/c9/4/1200/240405-Red-Velvet-Yeri-Coach-Pop-Up-Opening-Event-documents-4.jpeg?v=c62fd

https://kpopping.com/documents/36/1/1200/240405-Red-Velvet-Yeri-Coach-Pop-Up-Opening-Event-documents-2.jpeg?v=3cf88

Purple

(Kim Yeri X Male Reader)

You take your tie out of Yeri's hand. The bottom part is already soaked. Looking down on her, you see her phone in the other hand. A picture of you is on the screen.

"Are you going to punish me?"

Yeri's mischievous grin awakens something dark within you. Punishing her is something you've always wanted to do. To wipe that satisfied smile off her face, by totally ruining her body.

"Or are you gonna rat me out to Irene unnie?"

But then again, that's exactly what Yeri wants. And you don't want to give in so easily. Her cheeks are still showing a hint of red, after you've just caught her in the act. Of course you knew what was going on inside her room, when you saw her thong dangle on her doorknob.

"Do you think Irene would like it, if I told her you touch yourself to a picture of me?"

You hold up your tie.

"And use this as well?"

"You don't have any proof."

Her victorious, teasing smile makes a fire burn inside of you. She manages to piss you off and turn you on at the same time. After Seulgi, Joy and Wendy all slept with you, you expected Yeri to eventually follow in their footsteps. You just didn't expect she would actually touch herself, thinking about you. It turns you on more, thinking about how often she could've already done this.

"So what? You want to pretend to be a bad girl?"

Yeri stands up, the top of her head barely reaching your chin.

"I am a bad girl. And what do bad girls like I get.... daddy?"

She whispered that last word. And she watches you with amusement in her eyes as she waits for a reaction.

Just like the other three, Yeri doesn't know that Irene is allowing you to sleep with them. She really wants to be a bad girl. To seduce someone else's boyfriend. Even if it's Irene. The thrill of finally getting what she wants rushes through her veins.

"No."

Yeri's face falls, when she hears your rejection. She expected you to kiss her, or to grab her by her throat and and tell her how bad she really is, or run to Irene and tell her about this. She didn't expect a cold rejection.

"But-"

Before she can finish her complaint, you grab her shoulders and turn her around. You push her onto the bed and Yeri hits the mattress she was sitting on just now. With her face buried in her sheets, you straddle her legs and place your hands on her ass.

"You're not a bad girl, Yeri."

Using your tie, you first put both her hands on her back, before tying her wrists together.

"You're just a pathetic brat."

You hear a muffled moan at your words. Seems like you hit a nerve.

"I will punish you. And then, I'm gonna make sure you won't act up again. Understood?"

Yeri slightly lifts her head to give you a nod. When you reach for the purple fabric, you lick your lips. Time to claim the last Red Velvet member. You can't believe you're actually getting to fuck all of them. With new found strength, you rip Yeri's dress off her body. Another moan into the sheets follows a surprised gasp.

You expose her ass by tearing the purple dress open further and bunching up the white one around her waist. Her white cheeks instinctively make you deliver a hard slap. You don't even take your time to properly admire her body.

Moan after moan leaves Yeri's mouth as you strike her again and again. Within a matter of minutes both her cheeks show a fiery red. Her moans start to turn into sobs.

"Do you want me to keep punishing you?"

You slowly place a hand on her right cheek, which makes her flinch, before you slowly let it travel inside the gap between her thighs.

"Or do you want me to use you?"

You don't give her another option. Yeri's doesn't deserve just sex. The way she acts makes it clear that the only way she is useful is by being used.

"D-Daddy,"

Her voice is still shaking a little. Especially when you let your fingertips graze her wet labia. Her breath hitches.

"P-Please use me. I promise I'll be a good toy."

You squint your eyes in suspicion. It seems like you managed to turn her around faster than you expected. Or she is just putting up an act.

"Turn around, little brat."

Your mocking tone makes Yeri listen and she quickly does what you tell her. She is now lying on her back and you can see her face now. A mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. As if this is what she expected, but she didn't think you would go this far? You don't really care at this point. You only care about that cute pussy underneath her purple dress. Since it's almost completely see through, you can already see it. And because you ripped open her dress earlier, you can now just push the useless fabric to the side, revealing her pink lips.

Usually, you would've leaned down and started to eat her out. And she does look delicious, no doubt about it. But you want to make a point. That you are the one who controls her and not the other way around.

You gather some of your saliva in your mouth, before you spit onto her pussy. Yeri gasps at your lewd, almost rude, actions and you push yourself inside of her.

Soon, she is a mewling mess. Her loud cries echo through the dorm, which Irene is probably able to hear. By now, you've basically folded her in half, her ankles to her ears and your face close to hers as you drive yourself into her depths again and again.

"D-Daddy! I-I-I'm-"

Your powerful thrusts and her incoming orgasm makes her tongue and mouth useless. Her brain can't comprehend what's going for a second, before the climax rushes through her. Her body shakes underneath you, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

You grab a fistful of her hair, once she is finished. You manage to stay inside of her as you lie down on the bed yourself and make Yeri straddle you.

"Alright, little brat. Ride me and make me cum. Or I will only punish you from now on. Without the sex."

Yeri's eyes grow wide with fear and a moment later, she starts bouncing on your cock. Her hands hold onto your chest, her eyes are closed as she takes as much of you as she can. She still feels to well dressed for your taste. You reach upwards and grab the purple fabric once more. Yeri watches with big eyes as you tear her dress open again, right above her chest. You only need to pull at the white one a little bit and suddenly, Yeri's tits bounce freely to the rhythm of her riding. You use both hands to play with her soft flesh, enjoying her slick pussy around your cock and her mounds in your hands. When you start to play with her nipples a little more, Yeri throws her head back in pleasure, letting out louder moans.

"You have some nice tits, little brat."

Girls like Yeri always pretend to be bad girls, but they usually love to get praised. You feel it working when Yeri picks up the pace. Pulling her upper body a little more towards you, you capture on of her nipples with your mouth. You greedily suck on both of them individually, switching at random intervals.

Yeri is a moaning mess on top of you. Her hands, which are still tied together, are pressing onto your chest for support as she loses herself in the world of pleasure. Just like you. Your hands have travelled from her tits to her sore ass cheeks. Your mouth still licking and biting her soft skin. You start to pull her onto your cock with more force.

"Fuck, you really are a bad girl."

You say between licks as you feel her pussy squeezing and massaging your cock.

Yeri moans louder and you give her a couple of more spanks, which make her shake.

But you stop after a couple, because your own orgasm overwhelms you. You hold her in place as you thrust upwards, cuming deep inside her cunt. Yeri moans and whines, feeling your cum fill her insides.

[glorious-spoon]

finding excuses to be alone with each other - Buddie

hi, and thank you! sorry this has taken a while, and also i have no explanation for why i decided to write new year's eve fic in june. BUT: here you are!

a stolen moment

1200 words | buddie | developing relationship | secret relationship | kissing | fluff

-

There are too many people at this party.

Normally, this isn't something Buck would even think to complain about. Maddie and Chim are hosting, since Bobby and Athena are still living out of a tiny one-bedroom while work continues on their house, and Hen and Karen are still trying to get Mara settled back at home—New Year's parties are apparently not conducive to a quiet, predictable bedtime routine, and the Wilson family unit will probably be heading out well before the ball drops anyway—and nobody else has even close to enough room. It's still packed to the brim, overflowing onto the back patio, clusters of people chatting over drinks in the kitchen while the kids have taken over the living room TV for a vicious Mario Kart showdown that Chris is currently winning. Maddie's in the back bedroom putting Jee down for bedtime, and Chim is holding court over the dessert table, and it's all—great, honestly, it's great. It's awesome, having his family here, and happy, and together under the same roof after the year they've all had.

He glances up and meets Eddie's eye from across the dining room. Gets a quick smile in return. Eddie's cheeks are pink, maybe from the warmth, maybe from the two glasses of wine he's had, since Buck will be the one driving them home. He's wearing a green Henley that Buck knows is exactly as soft as it looks and worn-in jeans that mold lovingly to the lines of his thighs as he leans back against the door frame, and it's all pretty distressing, honestly. Buck's hands are itching to touch.

When he meets Eddie's eyes again, Eddie is grinning broadly. Caught, Buck ducks his head. He's blushing, he knows, and he doesn't have the excuse of the wine.

They're keeping it to themselves, at least for now. That was the decision they both made after Eddie kissed him in the loft two nights ago, after Buck kissed him back, after they didn't actually manage to make it all the way up to the bed and ended up on the couch instead, gasping into each other's mouths, fumbling and eager as teenagers. They're keeping it to themselves until Eddie figures out how he's going to tell Chris. He's skittish about that still, and Buck isn't going to push. So he'll probably be sleeping on the fold-out couch tonight instead of in Eddie's bed, and he's not going to kiss Eddie in the middle of the party, no matter how much he wants to.

It's okay. They have time.

"Hey, didn't someone bring dessert plates?" Chim calls from the kitchen. "Please tell me someone brought dessert plates, we're all out of the big ones and I'm really not up for doing dishes tonight."

Ah, shit. Right. That was Buck's job. He's pretty sure he did pick some up, actually, but they're probably still out in the Jeep, which is parked somewhere in the snarl of cars crowding the Han driveway and pulled off to the side of the street in front of their lawn.

"I got 'em," he calls, setting his soda down.

"My hero," Chim retorts, only half-teasing by his tone. Buck rolls his eyes and goes to find his shoes.

He doesn't realize that Eddie is following him until he's already slipped them on in the entry hall, a few steps away from the party. "What's up?"

Eddie shrugs, guileless, and crouches down to retrieve his shoes as well. "Figured I'd help you."

"You figured you'd help me…. bring in a package of paper plates?"

"Yeah," Eddie says innocently, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and god, Buck really wants to kiss him.

"Okay," he agrees instead, and pulls open the door. Eddie follows him out into the night, cool and dim even with Christmas lights still lit up all down the street. There's a dampness to the air that feels like rain; it's not that cold, but it's enough of a contrast to the warm house that a shiver goes through him. Eddie falls into step beside him, then reaches for his hand.

Buck shivers again, for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold this time. Eddie's hand is warm and broad, and he strokes his thumb lightly against Buck's, lighting up nerve endings he didn't even know he had.

It's such a small thing. But they've never actually done this yet. It all feels so new, sparkling like fireworks through his veins.

"Okay?" Eddie asks, and Buck realizes that he's stopped walking. 

"Yeah," he says. He's not doing a very good job of keeping the smile off his face, or out of his voice, but Eddie's got the exact same dopey smile on his face, so it's fine. They weave through the cars to where Buck's Jeep is parked, close enough to the street that they'll probably be able to get out without playing vehicle Tetris. Far enough from the house that they're shielded from view by Bobby's truck parked alongside them, so he's not all that surprised when Eddie lets go of his hand only to push him gently against the side of the Jeep and kiss him.

He gets lost in that for a little bit. The heat of Eddie's mouth, his hands moving from Buck's shoulders to cradle his jaw—he did that the first time, too. Held Buck like he's holding him now, like he's something precious and worth treating with care, and Buck's already hooked on it. He slides his hand up Eddie's back, feeling the warmth of him, to cup the back of his neck as Eddie licks into his mouth with leisurely sweetness, like he's got all the time in the world to kiss Buck just like this on the sidewalk on New Year's Eve.

Sooner or later, someone's going to come looking for them. It still takes a while for Buck to break the kiss, and when Eddie tugs lightly at his lower lip with his teeth before pulling away, he almost dives back in again. Almost.

"We should probably get back to the party," he says, very reluctantly.

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. He leans in and kisses Buck again, a sweeter, softer thing before leaning past him to open the door. Buck ducks into the back seat to retrieve the package of plates and the bottle of wine they forgot to bring in earlier, and when he straightens up, Eddie is watching him. He looks—hesitant, almost. Nervous. He looks the way he looked two days ago, right before he kissed Buck.

"What's up?" Buck asks.

"I want to tell Chris," Eddie says, all in a rush. "Maybe not—right now, at the party, but when we get home, I want to tell him. About us."

Buck takes a quick, sharp breath. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been as sure about anything in my life as I am about you."

"Eddie."

"It's the truth. And—I want him to know. Even if it's an adjustment, even if it takes some time to—I want him to know. I want everyone to know. If that's okay with you."

"Eddie," Buck says again, and then, "yeah, yeah of course it's okay."

"Good," Eddie says, with a sudden, brilliant smile. And well—Chim can wait a few more minutes for his paper plates. Buck sets them down and pulls Eddie back in.

[captainfantasticalright]

Another Sir Terry Pratchett interview on the details of writing Good Omens with Neil Gaiman. (More about this process x).

Question about how he goes about collaborating with someone else .

Terry: “You make them do what you want”.

Gary Cornell came up with something very apposite talking about working together, he says : It’s not that (each) of you does 50% of the work, each of you does 90% of the work.

Um. The way we did it then, and I can’t really speak as an expert because it's the only time I’ve ever done it and other people do it in different ways, it wasn’t a case of, the way the Americans tend to do it, um, is one person writes a draft and the other person goes in and noodles with that draft. We did the whole thing from the ground up; each was doing bits. The ad hoc way we had of working, it’s simple: I’ve got a track record writing novels, Neil hadn’t. So I became like the editor, the taskmaster. Because the other thing is the practical problem about two people 120 miles apart doing something, is that, um, it would be different now, but in those days we had no reliable means of electronic communication. We could connect computers together with modems and then spend the whole evening at cross purpose and ringing each other up and saying “I’m getting lots of little faces and shit like that all over..”

Three quarters of an hour and about eight phone calls, you actually managed to transmit about 2000 words you could have actually phoned and sneezed in a morse code.

[w]hen we were doing the first draft of the film script, we were both members of CompuServe so crappy our BT rural lines that the quick efficient way was for me to go into CompuServe and leave the work I’d done in Neil’s mailbox on the computer in Ohio or someplace and later that evening he would dial CompuServe in America and download it from Ohio or wherever it was.

So in order to get the script 120 miles, electronically it was doing about 10000. This is from the global village.

What we would do is I would hold the master copy and sometimes work would have to stop for 24 hours because stuff was in the post, because the nightmare, the absolute nightmare which I knew would happen if we let it, was that somehow we’d end up with two master copies in existence with little, minute changes, and we’d never be able to spot which was which.

So the last thing we wanted was two master copies, and we worked on the phone who did what. I did a bit more than Neil, of that anyway. But, it also felt to me to be an awful lot of the glue that no one wanted to do because it was easy to do set piece scenes and written on a kind of, on the kind of plot somewhere you get A and B to F and X and Y across to C T. And that really is like 3000 words where you have to move people around and then,you know, shove extra bits in; so I ended up probably doing near 75% of the book.

I would probably say because it’s, because had we’ve done it any other way it would’ve been like three months longer to do.

Also part of the process from another interview with Terry Pratchett:

Q: Let's talk a bit about the book you collaborated with Neil Gaiman on: Good Omens. That was before email, so how did it work on a practical basis? What was the most challenging aspect of writing with someone else?

I'm sure what I have to say will echo what Neil has said. When two people work on a book, it isn't a case where each one does 50% of the work. Each one does 100% of the work. There are some bits in Good Omens which I know are mine. There are some bits in Good Omens which I know are Neil's. There are some bits which were Neil's idea which I wrote, and there are some bits which were my idea which Neil wrote. Some bits we no longer know exactly whose ideas they were, or who wrote them. By the time we'd gone through all the drafts, it had been written by some sort of composite entity. We wrote it in the 14th century. We each had one phone line and a 1200 baud modem. We'd work it out: "OK, you send, I'll receive." Sometimes it would take 20 minutes to half an hour before we could send the stuff. It would have been cheaper and easier to have rung each other up and sneezed out the text in Morse Code. I was the Keeper of the Disks. I insisted that there should only be one official version in existence at any time. The moment it split into two, we would be in dead trouble. But Neil would sometimes send me a disk with 2000 words, saying " This is the scene with so and so -- insert it here." It more or less worked. It took us about six weeks to do the first draft. I think it worked because, at the time, we were each making a name for ourselves in our respective fields. It's not that we didn't take it seriously. But we were relaxed. We thought we would earn some holiday money by doing it. The nice thing about collaborating is that there is one other person in the world who is thinking about the exact same thing that you are thinking about. We both have a similar reading background, I suppose. It was quite rare when one of us came up with something that the other guy didn't know about. So we could bounce ideas off one another quite easily.

[writtenbysprout]

I don't hate you

synopsis: Your boss, Aaron Hotchner, has made a point to make sure you know just how much he hates you. But the one time it goes to far, you confront him. 

pairing: aaron hotchner x BAU!reader 

word count: ca 1200

cw: swearing, jealousy, unfair treatment, somehow there's pining in here (don't ask how, it just happened.)

You had just found a seat at the precinct, allowing yourself a moment of quiet. The smallest of breathers before the inevitable would come. And just as you let out a sigh you heard the all to familiar sound of your boss approaching. Derek following suit behind him.

In a swift motion Hotch slammed the door closed, leaving the three of you alone in the room.

"You just had to go rouge, didn't you!?" Hotch was the first to speak up as he towered over you, arms crossed over his chest, the ever present frown plastered to his face.

You try to mutter a reply, but as always he cuts you off, leaving no room for explanation.

"You put both your life and agent Morgan's life on the line for something that might've worked." His tone felt like daggers poking at you, making sure you felt every rift and scratch they left.

Up until now Hotch's nagging about your every flaw hadn't gotten too you. But something about his tone and reasoning today just didn't sit right with you. Perhaps that was what gave you the extra courage you needed to make yourself heard. Regardless of the cause you spoke up.

"It worked, we got the guy." You said, calmly at first.

"That's beside the point! You made an irrational decision that could've been fatal." Hotch was quick to pick up, discarding your argument. His eyes a fiery fury of rage. "He could've had a gun, or a bomb or.."

"But we profiled him as a.."

"The profile isn't always correct! You of all people should know that, being a profiler." Hotch cut you off again, not even bother to let you finish.

Morgan, who up until now had stood there in disbelief, straightened up, relieving you of some attention. "Hotch I think you.."

Hotch was quick to cut him off, glaring in his direction. "This does not concern you Agent Morgan, you can leave." 

Morgan was about to argue, but was met with another glare and Hotch's infamous words; "that's an order, agent."

Morgan shakes his head with a scuff. As he reaches for the door you see the resentment in his eyes. He felt for you, but there was nothing he could do. The boss had spoken and his orders was to be obeyed no matter how ridiculous.

Watching Morgan exit, you pushed yourself up form the chair, feeling the whole situation fuel you. You stood as tall as you could, wanting to present yourself as someone to be taken seriously.

“What have I done to make you hate me?” You snap, finally allowing yourself to ask the question that's been on your mind ever since you started.

For a split second you can swear you notice a flicker of confusion in Hotch's eyes, but before you can make anything out of it his harsh glare returns.

“I don’t hate you.” he scoff.

“Bull-fucking-shit Hotchner and you know it.” 

“I stand my ground.” he shrugs, not allowing you the satisfaction of having caught him on something. Even though you knew very well he was lying.

“I just don’t understand. I never get into trouble like Prentiss does. I don’t argue with you like Morgan. I do my job without asking details. Hell, I even put up with all the verbal abuse you throw at me every day! So if I have done something please let me know, cause I’m clueless.” Your voice faded into a plea. Wishing nothing more than to have some peace of mind and not have to tiptoe around him at every waking moment.

“I don’t hate you." He persists, yet this time is different. He sighs as if to continue, but you don’t care at this point. All you want is to know why he hated you. Why he put you through something you’d fought years and years to get away from with yourself. 

"Then why do you act like it?! I've done nothing but obey orders, never once straying from them."

"That's exactly why! You're good!," Hotch yells, but quickly compose himself speaking more softly, "You're too good..”

You mind falters. It's torn into a million different questions, but quiets momentarily as he continues.

"You're right in that I hate you." he admits, but the look in his eyes tells a whole other story. "I hate you for how you make me feel. I hate that I want nothing but to be close too you all the time, comfort you when I see a case takes a toll on you. I wanna be the reason you smile when you look at your phone, reading a stupid text. I wanna be the person you look for in a room full of people.”

“But you are!" Your closed fist pound into his chest with little to no force, mostly out of frustration of him being complete and utterly oblivious to your subtle hints. His hand takes a hold of your wrist in a tight grip and with a yank he pulls you closer. "You've always been..."

You feel yourself dangerously close to him, yet somehow not close enough.

“Then who is texting you?” His next words was spoken through gritted teeth and you couldn't help but notice the venomous jealousy dripping off his voice.

“Emily," When the name of is subordinate escape you lips you can tell the machinery in the great mind of his are turning. "She keeps sending me pictures of Sergio, her cat, and I just find him adorable, ‘n they calm me down if I’m having a rough day or a hard case.”

 “So all this time.." He lets go of your wrist, sinking down in his shoes. "I’ve been jealous of a cat?” 

You send him the look. The one saying well-du-uh!

He steps back, unsure of how to continue. It was clear to him that he had fucked up - massively.

How could he have been so blind? Looking back he'd found all the times you were there, simply there for him. Never once asking for anything in return.

And what had he done in return? He'd given you hell every waking moment during your day. He'd treated you like you were his biggest flaw, and still you managed to show him compassion?

He couldn't recall a single time you hadn't shown him the kindness of your nature, regardless of his cruel ways. You'd time and time offer smiles and wished him 'good morning' each morning, never once straying from it.

In his mind you'd already made up your mind about him, which made it all the more easy for him to keep you at an arms length. But he could see now that he was mistaken. And knew he'd regret it for the rest of his if he didn't try to mend this somehow.

So he said the only thing that came to mind, praying it'd somehow fix things.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

"Sorry's not gonna cut it, Hotch."

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watched him closely as he did something you thought you'd ever see him do.

He got down on his knees. Eyes never straying from yours. His next words chosen carefully, "Then tell me how I can make it up too you, I'll do anything."

"I have a few things in my mind."

[thecameronchronicles]

Coming Out On Top

TW: smut. Language. Dom!Reader. 

SUMMARY: You prove to Rafe to can take the reins after one too many taunts. 

WORD COUNT: 1200

REQUESTED

IM COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS

Idea for a story!!

Rafe is always saying how reader “can’t handle being on top” and so they trick him into handcuffs to show him they can handle it and rafe is all “you’re gonna regret this” but he actually enjoys it🫣 

🤍🤍🤍🤍

Coming Out On Top

You were the epitome of innocence. Before Rafe, there was little you knew about sex. The basic scientific properties were enough to sound intelligible and deduce that which was spoken with your friends. But until him, you weren't aware of how he could turn sensations into tremors. But of the ways he made you satisfied and blissed, there was one annoyance he had uttered one too many times. His arrogance was ignored until now as you set out to prove a point. 

"You don't wanna stay at the party any-oh!" You pushed him into his bedroom door as it gave way to his weight. Your foot kicked it closed as you continued to guide him towards the bed. But even if you had a mission, you basked in the way he held you. Soft hands with cruel fingers eating into your naked hips as you dropped the dress to your ankles and straddled him at the edge of his bed. 

"You don't want me to do anything to you?"

"I just want you inside me..." You confessed as he moved to guide you on your back, before your hands came to his chest. 

"I want to be on top." To this, he smirked. Even if it had taken some time with him, you were confident in most angles and positions. Your favorite matching that of his own. But this was one chosen, you were never able to exercise as he simply took control. Just as you found depth and rhythm, you were spun onto your back or stomach. Of course, he made your anger deplete with the several orgasms that came as consolation. But tonight you were going to prove Rafe Cameron wrong. 

"But baby, you can't handle it..." 

"I want to try, Rafe...please...it makes me so wet just thinking about it." You knew exactly how to convince him if anything. Just the mention of what he would have and he was willing to do whatever it took to make it happen. So he agreed. But the second he was distracted, the sound of metal cuffs pinned him to the bed. 

"Baby-" he spoke rather angrily. "Come on, take these off..."

"I need to practice..." You pouted, lowering down his body and unbuckling his pants. 

"Oh Rafe..." He moaned to your hands stroking him in perfect swirls. Precum already leaking from his tip as he rocked in to your grip. 

"Fuck... You're gonna regret this…" Your mouth wrapped around him slowly but you took him deeply, curses spoken between the moans of your name. 

"You still want me to let you go?"

"I want that pretty little ass riding me..." He shot as you bit your bottom lip, spitting on his cock as he groaned before you set yourself in position. 

He fought against the cuffs. 

"Sit on my face first...I need it..." He nearly begged as you framed his cheeks with your thighs as he savored you immediately. His eyes rolling to how you already dripped against his mouth. 

"Good girl..." He growled between breaths before you held onto the headboard as it squeaked to your motions. 

"Just like that baby...oh my God!" You nearly sobbed as you withdrew just before that rush overtook you. 

"Come back here and ride my face until you come..." 

"I want to come on your cock, baby..." You impaled yourself slowly on him as he groaned. Trying the binds again, he forced them against the headboard to chime as you began to move. Slowly until a purposeful pace was made as he scowled to the sight. 

"I want you in my hands...I want to make that ass every shade of fucking red for tying me down..." He broke weak of his dominance to the pleasure in his voice. 

"You feel so good, Rafe..." You rocked and bobbed, reading his expressions and continuing until you began to tire. His expression illuminating, admitting what he refused to. He loves when you took control. At least for now. 

"Maybe..." You reversed your motions as he growled. 

"Fuck...you're killing me..." 

"Ahh! Oh Rafe!"

"Use that cock baby...it's yours...feel good on me..." You dug your nails into his skin as you rode into him, every perfect inch hitting you precisely where you found the deepest of sensations. 

"I miss you pulling me hair when you take me like this..." You teased over your shoulder. 

"Take off these cuffs baby and I'll pull it so fucking tight for you..."

"Not until you come..." He hit his heels into the bed in frustration. 

"I don't want to...You look so good taking me..."

"Like this?" You asked, showcasing how his cock disappeared and emerged from your greedy sex. 

"Slower...I wanna watch..." You obliged. 

"Spread those cheeks baby...let me see it..." You lowered for balance but obeyed as he moaned. 

"Perfect...so fucking perfect..." 

"Yeah? You think I can handle it now, baby?"

"How you handle me so well..."

"Does it make you wanna come?"

"Fuck yeah..." 

You threw your head back as you relished to how deep he was inside of you. But each time he tightened and hardened, you edged him. Once to switch back to a normal straddle and again to suck him back to your throat. 

"Fuck!" He grunted. "Baby! Make me come!"

"Pretty please?"

"Please! Please baby! I'm so fucking close..." He grunted, eyes wild with desire as you returned to him. 

"Inside of me?"

"Every inch..." 

"You want to make a mess of me, Rafe? Every inch of me covered?"

"Mmm...fuuuuck....here it...baby-" He tensed and erupted, that familiar warmth coating you from within as you slowly rise and slammed down on him again. 

"Shit! It's-" you did it again. "It's-" you continued as he moaned and whimpered. Overstimulation at its finest as you adored the way this strong man fell apart beneath you. His cock flexing and reliant solely on your mercy. 

"Make me come again...oh baby...please please please..."

"But I want to..." 

"My face...come back... sit-" He struggled to speak.

"I want to use you...This perfect...hard...thick cock...all mine..."

"Take it...fuck me baby..." You resorted to your wiles. Your body both heaven and hell above him as the sight was serene but the fact he could only watch was torture. Your breath, your breasts, your moans, everything brought him to that second edge. 

"Rafe, I'm gonna come! Oh God!"

"Give it to me baby...please " Your body betrayed any attempt to fight this as you washed over him, channeling his second release. Sticky and dripping, you reached over him. 

"Clean me up, Rafe." He was gluttonous to this, every drop cleansed before he strived for a third. Your body shaking and nearing for that edge he brought effortlessly by only his tongue. 

"Untie me." He demanded, his jaw wet in the evidence of your recent release. 

"My turn." He growled, thing you to the bed after you were on all fours. A long night ahead…

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[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi, so I am a new novelist, and I recently finished my first novel. The problem is I didn't divide the story by chapters, meaning I have no chapters I just have the story written, my question is how to know when it should be a chapter? Is there a specific common word count? Or is it by storyline?

Thank you for your time🤍love your page xx

What Exactly is a Chapter?

Chapters in novels contain usually one to three related scenes that are grouped together. They often center around a single scene goal or reaction and have their own beginning, middle, and end. New chapters usually begin when there's a significant change of time, place, or a change in point-of-view.

So, let's say your first six scenes look like this:

Scene 1 - Maggie walks to school with her friend Brad Scene 2 - Maggie encounters strange new student in history class Scene 3 - Maggie tells Brad about new student at lunch Scene 4 - Brad calls during Saturday dinner having seen new student Scene 5 - Maggie meets Brad at the park to hear the story Scene 6 - Maggie encounters new student at the mall on Sunday

Scene 1 takes place on the way to school, and scenes 2 - 3 take place at school within the first half of the day, so if these scenes are told from Maggie's POV or a third-person omniscient POV, we know we can group these scenes together into one chapter. But scene 4 takes place at home on the weekend, scene 5 takes place at the neighborhood park a little while later, and scene 6 takes place the next day at the mall. Since the location has shifted from school to home and home adjacent (park, mall), and the time is the weekend rather than the school week, that's a significant enough change in place and time that we know scenes 4-6 can be a separate chapter from 1-3.

On the other hand, let's say scene 1 and 2 are Maggie's POV, but scenes 3 and 4 are from Brad's POV. In that case, we'll start a new chapter with scene 3 when we switch to Brad's POV. And, even though we have the big time and location shift from school during the week to home on Saturday, it could make sense for these two scenes to stay in one chapter, because both are related to Brad's experience with the new student... hearing about them from the first time at lunch when Maggie talks about them, then encoutering them himself and calling to tell Maggie about it.

Ultimately, just follow your gut, and remember that chapters aren't required to be any particular length. They can be as short as a few sentences or as long as twenty pages... all that matters is that the chapter works as a chapter. Also, remember that you also don't have to stick with the same convention throughout your story. For example, if your chapters tend to average about 1200 words, that doesn't mean you can't have a 600 word chapter or a 2400 word chapter. Again, the only criteria to length is that it's enough words to accomplish whatever the chapter needs to accomplish.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[calaisreno]

An Arrangement

1200 words / Prompt: Hobby

Summary: Mycroft finds an ally

Mycroft Holmes regards the police officer who is sitting on the other side of the desk. Dark eyes, prematurely greying hair. Good at his job, recent promotion. A sense of humour (laugh lines), and an uncompromising commitment to honour. Maybe that’s not quite what it is. Honourable, yes, but it’s an inner sense of rightness, a gut feeling about people. Not impressed by power.

He wonders what DI Lestrade is thinking about the man he’s come to see without an appointment. 

“You’re here about my brother,” he says, sparing him the explanation. 

Lestrade nods. “I’ve seen him around, talked with him a few times. Last night—”

“Thank you.” Mycroft isn’t good at thanking people, not when thanks seem so inadequate. “I am truly grateful that you found him before… well, before more serious harm was done.”

Lestrade looks at him directly, openly, and Mycroft imagines this is the face he uses when interrogating a suspect. “You don’t know what to do with him.”

Surprised at the deduction, he responds. “I have taken some measures. It seems what I’ve attempted has not been successful, but I have the means to try other things.”

“What about your parents?”

“Our parents are not able to fully grasp the problem. Sherlock has always been… difficult. They have never understood him, and blame themselves for his problems. The matter elicits a great deal of emotion, and I have elected to be my brother’s keeper, so to speak, in order to spare them that ordeal.”

“Mr Holmes, I can’t claim to know Sherlock as well as you do, but I know a thing or two about addiction. The measures you’ve taken… well, nothing’s going to work until he’s ready to work on himself.”

Mycroft smiles grimly. “Mr Lestrade, I’m sure you’ve met many junkies in your line of work, but I’m equally sure you’ve never met anyone like Sherlock.”

“True enough. First time I met him he was high, stumbled on a crime scene I was investigating. It was like he had x-ray vision or something. Described exactly what had happened, pointed out where the murder weapon was, even suggested that the murderer was left-handed and had a limp. I didn’t dismiss him as a nut job because I could see it all— he was right.”

Mycroft’s smile is more genuine now. “My brother is several levels above any junkie you’ve met, Mr Lestrade. His problem is one he could solve, if he turned his mind to it. He resents my interference, however, and resists the measures I’ve taken. I will not give up on him, however long it takes. You need not feel responsible for Sherlock.” 

Lestrade stares down at his hands, which he holds clenched in his lap. When he speaks, his voice has lost something of the policeman. 

“Forgive me for speaking so freely. I know what it’s like to talk to someone on the phone, to say see you later, knowing that it might be the last thing you say to them. Guarding your words so you won’t sound bitter, won’t drive him away, when all you want to do is shake some sense into him, scream at him, lock him up until you can make him right.”

“Ah.” Mycroft leans back. “Your own brother.”

Lestrade smiles. “Five years younger than me, baby of the family. Our parents worked hard, and we did all right. All of us but Andy. I don’t know why. He was bright enough to do anything, be anything. We loved him, but something made him feel unloveable. It was never enough.”

“I’m sorry.” There really isn’t anything else to say when someone admits something so personal. This conversation is far more personal than he wants it to be. 

“I always take an interest in the addicts because of Andy. Maybe I can figure it out, save someone when I couldn’t do anything for him. Last time Sherlock and I spoke, I made him an offer, said I’d be willing to talk to him about homicide cases I’m working on, if he stays clean. He seemed to like that idea, said he might be a ‘consulting detective,’ the one I come to when I’m in over my head.”

Mycroft shakes his head slightly. “Sherlock is meant for something greater than police work, Mr Lestrade. I’m afraid you’ll find he quickly loses interest.”

“I don’t know, Mr Holmes. What police do matters. I’m not suggesting that Sherlock would make a good policeman. I saw a spark in him, though, one I hadn’t seen the other times we talked. Even if solving a crime is just an intellectual exercise to him, it might be the thing that keeps him from needing his next dose. That’s how you solve addiction, I think, one dose at a time.”

“That’s very simplistic.” Mycroft frowns now. “Believe me, I understand what rehab entails. And I know the success rates of most programmes.”

“True, there are a lot of failures. I don’t mean to suggest that I can cure him. You can’t cure an addict. But you can give them something else, something that absorbs them, even for a while. And maybe over time they’ll learn that there is something they want more than drugs.”

“You’re asking my permission,” Mycroft says. “I give it to you with conditions. First, you must not let him in simply to let him down. If you invite him to solve things, you will need to keep giving him things to solve. I’m not sure that’s feasible, but it is my condition. Do not treat him like a hobby.”

“I wouldn’t.” Lestrade looks at him solemnly. “I’m doing this because I think I can help him, and it would go against everything in me not to try.”

“I have another condition. You must check in with me and let me know if you see him slipping. Sherlock doesn’t see me often, doesn’t answer my calls. As I’ve said, he resents my efforts to help. You will recognise the signs. If he’s doing poorly, I want to know. I don’t care about confidences and trust between you and my brother. I must know if he is in danger.”

“I’m willing to do that.”

“Even if it involves lying to him?”

This gives the detective pause. “I want him to trust me, and lying to him would break that. I don’t want him to think I’m working for you. At the same time, I won’t pass along anything you say to me; our conversations will remain confidential.”

“In addition.” He sighs. “I am appalled that I must say this, but I would be remiss not to mention it. Do not use my brother. People have used him before, taken advantage of him. I’m not suggesting that you are the type of person who would do that. I don’t know you, Detective Inspector Lestrade. But if I ever learn that you have done such a thing—” He breaks off, giving him the humourless smile that explains more than words. “It would be very unfortunate.”

“Of course.” Lestrade looks sad. “I would never.”

“Very well, then.” 

He extends his hand. Lestrade takes it, gives it one shake, and nods. “You’ll be hearing from me.”

---

Shoutouts to everyone who is writing these! I'm so impressed 💕 Please keep writing your mini-epics, fluffy/angsty one-shots, hilarious AUs, limericks, and whatever else your brain comes up with. Please do tag people, and if you're posting on AO3 as well, consider adding to my MayPrompts2024 Collection. Much love to you all 💕

[annie-creates]

Pile of misfortunes

Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1200

Note: This is my 50th post, so there comes a new character! I usually write for Abby but this seemed suitable for Ellie. I warn you she's kinda awkward in this (maybe the whole story is).

Living in Jackson wasn’t exactly a dream come true, but considering the apocalypse outside the walls it was peaceful and enjoyable. Everyone had their respective roles and found their purpose, a contribution to the community. You were no different, finding your skill in baking and cooking edible goods and sweet deserts. It wasn’t the most exciting nor important role, but it was yours and you were happy to be active part of the society. It meant you spent half of almost every day in the humid kitchen and giving out servings, but at least it connected you to people in your commune. Everyone knew your name and to your luck most of them liked you.

One of those who liked you even more was Ellie. She has lived there with Joel for some time now, growing up into a skilled woman with Tommy who thought her how to shoot every gun under the sun while Joel sharpened her skills of stealth and camouflage. Maybe that’s why you never noticed her, she was just too good at blending with the crowd. It sure wasn’t the fact she turned away every time she caught herself staring at you or how she left immediately after eating her lunch in fear of somehow embarrassing herself in front of you. Over time she built her own group of friends around Jackson and could only wish for you to one day become one of them.

That’s what had her staring at you dancing in the middle of the makeshift floor under the big marquee as the community celebrated the start of spring. It sure wasn’t the short skirt you decided to wear that elegantly flew around your legs when you moved, or your golden hair shimmering in the last rays of the setting sun. With a face flushed red she couldn’t tear her eyes away from your moving form, not realizing her ogling of you has been spotted.

“You love her, don’t you?” Dina asks her best friend, setting her glass on the bar table.

“Is it that obvious?” Ellie counters desperately, hardly tearing her sight away from you.

“You should do something about it.” Dina encourages her, not being able to look at her so helplessly in love anymore.

“…I don’t even know if she likes girls.” Ellie answers after a minute finally snapping her eyes to her friend instead of you.

“Well I do.” Dina triumphantly declares with a meaningful smirk. “And she does. A lot.”

Ellie had hardly spoken with you along the last couple months but she was completely smothered with you. She was just finding excuses not to have to talk to you and face your rejection, maybe just admiring you from afar was the safest option. Yet if she keeps doing it like that, you’ll catch her sooner or later and think she’s some type of creep spying on you. So maybe it’s best to do it fast, like a band aid.

“Maybe I should.” She decides then and there, saying it out loud so she can’t back out this time.

“Go for it!” Dina pushes her forward to finally get her to some action.

But as Ellie nears you on the other side of the tent, she sees you arguing with one of the older men in the commute. She feels like she remembers him from the leaders’ meetings, but isn’t sure which one it is exactly. He clearly tells you something offending because you curl in on yourself and quickly leave the party before she can even get to you. He goes the other way satisfied with himself and once again Ellie is lost in what to do.

“Go find her.” Suddenly Dina nudges her again, seeing as she wasn’t very successful.

They both find you outside a couple streets to the east, sitting on a bench hidden under an oak tree and crying. It’s a sight Ellie would never wish to see again, so used to your cheerful and bubbly personality she didn’t think you even had the ability to cry. Besides, who would want to make cry someone so wonderful like you? That should be a crime in its own.

“She’s crying, what do I do?” Ellie whispers like a lost puppy.

“Go comfort her.” How was that not obvious Dina didn’t know, maybe the love made Ellie’s brain overgrow with fungus.

“How do I do that?” Ellie asks again earning a loud facepalm from Dina.

“Start with hugs.” She recommends.

“With what?” Ellie yelps loudly.

“Hugs. You know? When you hug someone to make them feel better…” Dina starts overexplaining.

“Okay, okay. I will.” Ellie agrees to get her to stop mocking her and finally makes her way over to you.

Your bench is cold in the evening air and you sit there like a pile of misfortunes, wiping your nose and tear stained cheeks with the long sleeve of your colorful sweater. You didn’t expect to be unhappy tonight, much less to be insulted for your cooking skills, your mother’s recipe at that. Everyone always loved the pie she used to make and you got confident over time in making it yourself as a remembrance of her, so why did someone wait till now to tell you they didn’t like it?

“Hey.” Ellie shows up scaring you a little bit. “You okay?”

“Oh, hey. Yea, I’m fine. Just a little out of it, that’s all.” You smile at her through your tear-stained face even though the smile doesn’t reach your saddened eyes at all.

“Do you, ugh, want a hug?” Ellie offers sitting at the bench next to you.

“Sure.” Shrugging your shoulders, your smile is genuine this time.

“What happened?” she asks carefully not wanting to scare you away like a magnificent bird or a fragile butterfly.

“Rowan said he didn’t like my pie. That it wasn’t good…” but considering your reaction it was clear he used much harsher language. “And that maybe I should give up baking altogether.”

“Nonsense. Your pie is great! And so is everything else you make.” Ellie is fast to deny any of such accusations. “Didn’t you say it was a recipe from your mom? She made it with love and so do you.”

“Yeah… yeah it is.” You were surprised Ellie remembered such details from conversations you held months ago.

“Who cares what one old dude thinks. If you weren’t good they wouldn’t have placed you in the kitchen for Sunday lunches.” She assures you. “I always enjoy your food the most.”

“Thank you.” You actually felt better now, feeling a weight lifted off your chest.

“I will gladly eat his portion anytime.” Ellie makes you laugh with her antics.

Behind your back Ellie sends Dina a thumbs up and her friend returns the gesture as she sees you clinging onto Ellie’s shirt. She knew Ellie had it in her to finally get close to you, just a few more days like this and she’ll actually get her to ask you out. That is, if you don’t get to it first, because you also had some unmissable admiration for Ellie and if she wasn’t so blinded by her obsession with you she would have seen it too.

[aevallare]

what's up. i'm aevallare. you might know me as an idiot. here are some of my links.

ao3 || patreon || carrd

here are my bg3 fics beneath the read more. these are all available on my ao3, linked above. sorry about the white boy of the century.

look at the gold; call it a flex (conscript 38/astarion)

gossamer (ongoing) - post-game. previously unromanced ascendant astarion. changeling tav.

Her eyes flicker from brown to blue.

"Oh, Astarion. Why do you feel the need to control something you already own?"

commitment (complete, 1634 words) - fluff (?) one-shot. astarion overindulges.

38 denies Astarion nothing. Why would she want to? He freed her, made her a crown jewel— he gave her a home and he gives her chances to let blood with reckless abandon. What more could she ask for?

we can live forever if you've got the time (auri/astarion)

kindred (ongoing) - the og. the flagship. bg3, the remix.

auri knows people, and that's how she can tell; astarion is deeply, deeply fucked up.

pour one out (ongoing) - modern reincarnation au.

astarion's immortal. auri is decidedly not. but she's always had a way of doing the impossible.

inevitable (complete, 2102 words) - pwp two-shot. tadpole phone sex.

if she closes her eyes, she’s almost sitting in his lap again.

vow (complete, 5217 words) - pwp one-shot. menstruation kink.

when she’d helped astarion ascend, it had seemed like the right choice for a multitude of reasons.

excuses (complete, 4424 words) - pwp one-shot. sex pollen.

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

infinite duress (complete, 2572 words) - pwp one-shot. bratty switch fic.

Astarion’s often the one in charge, but he’s been known to press his luck on occasion. If the tadpole still connected them, he knows exactly what Auri would say as he steps closer to Halsin.

Brat.

the art of scraping through (complete, 2579 words) - pwp one-shot. ascended astarion and auri have a very messy breakup. she has rebound sex with haarlep.

Astarion hates that she’s doing this, but he doesn’t get a say. He lost the right when he became the Vampire Ascendant, when he ended things after Auri refused to become a spawn.

honeysuckle and fresh meat (shadowheart/auri/astarion)

oneiric (complete, 7866 words) - pwp one-shot. sub!shadowheart + sub!astarion.

Shadowheart snorts. Auri can't stop thinking about what Astarion said in bed the other night. She says, “The problem is that I have trouble letting go of control with people that I don't trust. And people that I trust are few and far between.”

Astarion smirks. “Yes, I can see how that would be difficult. I tend to be the one doing the controlling, if we can call it that, but letting it go can be just as…” Astarion trails off as if searching for the perfect word. “Fulfilling.”

green-eyed (complete, 2427 words) - pwp one-shot. valentine's day cuckfic.

All sex before was mediocre compared to this. Shadowheart wants for nothing.

Well. Almost nothing.

verdant (aeva/halsin)

impractical (complete, 1200 words) - one-shot.

His savior was a half-drow, as he’d later learn, but there hadn’t been time to reprimand himself for his prejudices. She’d slain his captors with relative ease, assisted by a human warlock, a half-elf Sharran, and a raging tiefling, and when he’d said he couldn’t possibly leave this place without removing the goblin leaders from the equation, she’d tilted her head to the side.

“We disposed of them before we found you.”

adjustments (complete, 1011 words) - one-shot.

The Underdark is beautiful in its own way, but it’s difficult for Aeva to divorce its aesthetic from the realities of living there. She’d been forced to claw her way out from destitution so often that it might as well have torn the nails from her fingers, and if desperation was currency, she would have wanted for nothing.

vital (complete, 1384 words) - one-shot.

Halsin’s dangerous in an unusual way. Being near him makes Aeva feel secure, and that’s never ended pleasantly. A tenday ago, she would have ignored his question outright.

He doesn’t press her for anything else, and for some reason, that loosens Aeva’s lips more.

old habits (complete, 1545 words) - one-shot.

Death to slavers always. That much will never change.

faithless (wyll/nora/astarion)

acumen (complete, 984 words) - one-shot.

Wyll likes to believe that everyone is doing the best they can.

bluster (wisp/gale)

tailwind (complete, 1670 words) - one-shot.

Wisp is loud, obnoxious, and concerned with little but joy and adventure. Stealth eludes her entirely, she’s constantly talking about how she’d feel better if they were on a ship, she never stops talking about how much she misses sailing and the sea, and she’s purported to be a cleric, but Gale has yet to see anything holy about her.

assorted other stuff

hearth (complete, 602 words) - shadowheart/karlach one-shot.

It’s cold tonight. Baldur’s Gate buzzes in the distance, and it’s hard to say what waits for them there. They’ve all still got parasites in their heads, there are two Chosen left, and Shadowheart’s renounced the only thing she knows.

cursed (complete, 1124 words) - gale/astarion one-shot.

When Gale Dekarios was born, there were whispers that he was cursed.

hypotheticals (complete, 542 words) - wyll/astarion one-shot.

in another life, a lot of things could have been different.

the devil in the details (complete, 1241 words) - wyll/astarion one-shot.

“Self-pity is a strange look on the Blade of Frontiers.”

all of your flaws are aligned with this mood of mine (ongoing) - 1/2 chapters. nevestarion modern au for @again-please.

Astarion’s mass of white curls retreats; Neve can just make them out in the darkness, courtesy of the street lamps. The scowl on her face sits firmly. She can’t throw the milk frother at him. But if he’s going to make this a miserable experience for her, then she can certainly give as good as she gets.

[onyxino]

Happy birthday, Aizen!

For Aizen's birthday here is some headcanons. Some SFW but its mostly just filth.

CW: Creampie. Oral F receiving. AFAB reader x Aizen. Dom/Sub dynamics used. Aizen is a whole warning himself. Slightly creepy and toxic Aizen. Panty sniffing and stealing. Cum play. Praise. Talk of sexual orientation. MDNI!!

Proof read like 3 times but my eyes fail me quite a bit

WC:1200

Safe For Work

I wholeheartedly believe that Sosuke is 100% capable of love. He just wouldn’t be able to recognize the emotion at first and would have a really big internal conflict regarding the matter. I think initially he would have the issue of not being able to tell the difference between obsession and love. Once he's finally figured out what he's feeling he’s now faced with the new issue of showing it because saying it is absolutely out of the question.

To expand further on my last headcanon, let's talk about Sosuke’s love languages! He has two forms of love language.

First would be gift giving. I think Sosuke would be very big into giving you anything you wanted as a sign of love. He believes you deserve nothing but the best so why not give it to you! You eye something at the mall for a little too long? Congrats, it’s yours now! Don’t even try to protest it belongs to you now so just take it. You do deserve the best after all.

Second form of Sosuke’s love language would most definitely have to be words of praise and affirmations. This man may have the hardest time saying those 3 big words but he will praise you from dusk to dawn.

“You’re doing just splendid, Dear. I’m quite pleased with your progress.” He says as he tucks a damp piece of hair behind your sweaty ear. This new training regiment he has you on is a killer but his words fuel you to keep going.

I plan to expand more on this in the NSFW portion! 

I definitely believe that Aizen would not use Kyoka Suigetsu on you. I can only see him using it on you in an event where it may be needed to protect you or prevent you from risking your own life if it came down to it. 

This man is the definition of LOYAL. Do not fret this man will not cheat. You’ll actually have the issue of him not leaving your side. In the world of the living, you want his phone? It's yours,  I mean you already know the password so just ask for it and he’ll hand it over. He will be a little upset that you don’t trust him but he understands you’ve probably been hurt before but believe me he will be asking for your phone in return.

I know a lot of these have been very wholesome but don’t get me wrong this is Sosuke AIzen we are talking about. He can and will be T O X I C. He has jealousy issues, make sure you aren’t talking to the pesky candy shop owner for too long or else you’ll be in trouble.

I believe he has the tendency to stalk as well. Trust me that man could tell you EXACTLY where you were at 12:30pm on July,3rd,2023. Even if you don’t remember he does.

Not Safe For Work

Sosuke Aizen is uncut. Plain and simple.

I headcanon him to be pansexual. I believe Sosuke has had experience with men, women and non-binary/androgynous people as well. I also do believe while he is pansexual and has had experience with all genders that he does have a preference. I can really see him being into Non-binary/Androgynous AFAB people. Honestly though if he likes you, he likes you and it doesn’t matter what kind of genitalia you have. I also believe that at one point in time even for a small amount of time he had a thing for Shinji Hirako (or maybe that's too self indulgent and I just want them to hate fuck.) 

While I do say he has had experience with people of all genders, I do not believe that Sosuke Aizen sleeps around. While being experienced he’s only had a few past partners for a couple of reasons. First being that he just doesn’t have time for such conquests due to being too busy with his plan for being the one at the top and all. Second being that Aizen only sleeps with people that he has a fondness for and for him it takes a long time to build up that trust. Being that naked and vulnerable around someone he barely knows just does not interest him at all. 

Sosuke is a dom at heart but he wouldn't mind (he actually really craves) soft and tender sex without the use of dom/sub dynamic. 

Sosuke has a huge thing for cum play. He loves the idea of covering you in his cum, it’s some sort of primal way for him to mark you as his. He also loves stuffing you full, creampie after creampie and then seeing it spill out of you drives him absolutely mad. Him knowing that you're so full of his cum that it's ruining your underwear and dribbling down your thighs as you go about your daily tasks gets him off.

To expand further on this it’s not just his cum he’s obsessed with it’s yours too. He loves when you squirt on his face as he’s eating you out, it does his ego wonders and on top of it all you taste like heaven to him. He is also absolutely in love with the sight of you creaming on cock, seeing that white ring of cum appear at the base of dick is just another thing that gets him off and feeds his already obese ego.

Sosuke Aizen love love loves to talk and that doesn’t change during sex either. He is very very vocal. He is the kind of man to talk you through it. He loves to deliver praise (In the most condescending way possible) as much he loves to degrade you.

“C’mon now, you can take it.” He coos in an almost praising yet degrading way as he cups your cheek in his soft yet calloused hand.

He has you on your back, tears staining your rosy cheeks. He’s halfway buried in you, if people saw you right now they’d think this was your first time taking his cock. Oh man, that couldn't be further from the truth, you swear every time up and down it will never fit. Every time you are proved wrong.

He pushes himself into you a little more, this earns him a whine that tumbles from your lips as you feel his girth stretch you out.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well. Now be good and take the rest of me, yeah? I know you can.” He says leaning down to bury his face into your neck. Then snapping his hips forward in one switch motion he’s sheathing himself completely inside of you. 

A strangled moan tears itself from your throat as you adjust to him. You take it now and you take it every time because Sosuke wouldn’t dare speak words to you that he knew to be falsehoods.

Sosuke is a panty sniffer/stealer. If you think you’re leaving your encounter with him with your underwear you’d be so wrong. It’s a trophy to him, a token of your memory for him as he sits on the edge of his bed stroking his length later that night after you’ve left. Wadded up fabric clutched in his hand pressing against his nose as he breathes deeply.

Bonus: He is definitely guilty of cumming in your underwear and forcing you to wear them all day.

Thanks for reading, I don't write often but i sure enjoy sharing when I do!

Tag list: @stygianoir @muzansfangs

[skyeslittlecorner]

Reminiscent of old times | Young Kings, Gusion

I should write some introduction, but I don't have much to add. Just little children who deserve the world, but the world already chose to give them pain.

~1200 words

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

The room was small, cameral, more like an office. The fate of nations is most often played out in such rooms. Subjects reporting, kings giving orders. Choices and decisions. Reports, laws, official letters. Power, the shackles of power, when you have to send your loved ones to death and watch them suffer because you are the most important pawn in this game.

The four boys sit on the floor. Leviathan moved away disapprovingly, and Mammon watched with interest as Beelzebub tried to command the cockroach to enter Satan's nose as he fell asleep. They had no idea what dark thoughts were going through their teacher's head.

Gusion looked at their homework and sighed. Those math problems weren't difficult. At least the initial were not, because it was exactly what they were learning now. It is true that when he prepared homework in the middle of the night, Guison was so tired that he added the last two tasks from a topic they had not studied. They didn't know how to solve it... but what he got back was at least interesting.

“Oh, Gusion is alive. Get up." Beel elbowed Satan in the chest.

The boy shuddered and looked around unconsciously. He squinted to see what was crawling on his nose, and screamed when it turned out to be a cockroach. Beel cackled loudly, and Mammon gently removed the bug and placed it on his shoulder.

“Now you will be mine.”

“You're acting like brats.” Leviathan separated Beel from Satan, who tried to jump at his throat. “Calm down, I want to get this over with.”

“Leeeviii, he's an idiot!”

“You fit together.”

At that moment, they looked like ordinary children. They had fun, argued and laughed, unaware of what fate would bring them. If it weren't for the powerful aura that emanated from each of them, with their fluffy cheeks and undergrown horns, they could have been running around the streets of the capital with sticks, having fun with other kids.

Gusion finally woke up and spoke in a calm voice.

“I checked your homework.”

Of course, it didn't help. This time the focus was again on the cockroach and the deep discussion of how to dip its little legs into the golden river. Only when Gusion slammed his fist on the desk did four pairs of eyes turn to him.

“Leviathan. You did great, everything was resolved perfectly. I didn't expect any of you would do so well.”

Gusion handed him a paper with the only red color marking a perfect score. There was not a single pencil smudge or additional calculations. Only correct results. The boy smiled to himself, as he was sure that it couldn't be otherwise.

“I didn't teach you this, how did you know how to solve it?”

“There was a textbook in the library. Unlike them, I know what books are for.”

In fact, Gusion recently couldn't find his textbook from which he took the assignments. But how did it appear in the library? Gusion hadn't visited this place for several weeks. Without much thought, he pulled out another piece of paper, maybe not as elegantly written as the previous one, but still in good condition.

“Mammon. All the problems are fine up to the point where there was subtraction or division... I understand that you may have read it incorrectly. In one. But everywhere?”

The boy looked at it with interest, but without much concern.

“I read it well.”

“So what's the problem?”

“Why should I reduce numbers when I can accumulate them?”

Inhale. Exhale. That's not what math is about. Still patiently, Gusion rubbed his forehead.

“Sometimes you have to subtract something to gain more... A bit like a loan. You give something to someone for safekeeping so you can pick up more later.”

“But it's still mine?”

"Yes. It's yours. Someone else is just taking care of it for the time being.”

It's true that Gusion didn't know who would take care of delta for him, but what mattered was that Mammon understood. Gusion had long since stopped explaining equations to Mammon in anything other than money terms. Not because he was stupid. He understood very quickly. If he wanted to. And usually he only wanted something when it belonged to him. Him and Beel were the only ones who didn't question the fact that a certain devil bought thirty watermelons.

“Beelzebub…”

The boy returned the paper a day ago, which was so scribbled that you could barely see the whiteness of the page, let alone the answer. When he get it back, this time marked red by Gusion, there was no trace of the white at all.

“Do I even have to comment on this? Once you get something right, it is related to subtraction, just unlike Mammon. Why?"

“Because if I eat something, it won't be there.”

This time Gusion didn't even try to comment. Beel pursed his lips and decided to defend himself.

“I even borrowed a textbook to learn! But it was terribly boring. I think I left it somewhere.”

So that's how it ended up in the library.

“Okay… Sit down. Satan. You're the last one left.”

The first problems looked good. In fact, the beginning looked the most normal compared to the rest of the boys, the further and more difficult the tasks, the more small mistakes. It only got weird towards the end. The paper was concave from the force of what the boy was writing, and instead of an answer there was a puncture with a pen. Satan was the avatar of wrath. Gusion understood this, the boy got irritated when he failed. And then it got weird, because the last two problems were solved so perfectly and cleanly, as if Leviahan had solved them.

“Will you explain to me what happened?”

“Oh.” Satan smiled broadly and turned to Leviathan. "You were right!"

“Of course I was.”

Gusion felt a twinge of pride. Were they studying together? That's better than he expected.

“Right about what?”

“That there are correct answers at the back of the textbook.”

…and whatever hope there was in Gusion just died.

“Hey! There were answers there and you didn't tell me?”

“No, and I will never tell you because you tried to put a cockroach up my nose!”

Mammon, on the other hand, was nodding in admiration.

“Very efficient use of resources.”

“Everyone get out of my sight.”

They didn't need to be told twice. When the group had already flown out of his office, Gusion went to the window, where he soon saw all four of them in the palace courtyard. Whatever mischief they had planned, they looked carefree. Happily. Young kings who will soon carry the weight of the entire Hell on their shoulders. With power comes responsibilities, and with responsibilities comes suffering. They were young, but each of them had already experienced loss. Learning, fun, friendship. An overlay to the painful everyday life that will soon await them. He might be annoyed that they didn't always take their lessons seriously, but he couldn't stay mad at them for long. In a few years, along with the crowns will come responsibilities. He could only let them taste the remnants of childhood they had left.