#i'm obsessed with writing these tension moments between them

[loserboyfriendrjl]

"skipping slughorn's diner again, aren't we?" marlene asked, leaning against the wall and pulling out a cigarette from the pocket of her pants.

"you followed me, though, didn't you?" meadowes noticed, nodding to her. "so, really, you're skipping too, love. am i that interesting to you?"

marlene's cheeks tinted red. "stop that, meadowes," she muttered, putting the cigarette between her lips.

"stop what?" she asked, innocently, tugging at the rings on her fingers. "it's a mere observation; nothing more. do you find me so appealing that you're willing to leave your friend behind just so that you can see what i'm doing? slick, mckinnon, very subtle."

"fuck off," marlene huffed, stifling a laugh. "and don't flatter yourself."

"you're the one who followed someone you," meadowes air-quoted, "hated, outside, from the warmth in slughorn's office and into the cold of the hallway, with a cigarette between your lips you don't even have a lighter for." she reached out in her jacket, strolled over to marlene, and pulled out a lighter. "here." she flicked her thumb over, the only light in the corridor being marlene's cigarette.

their faces had been so close. marlene could notice the dark of meadowes' eyes, so dark it was almost black, the moles under meadowes' eyes, the curve of meadowes' lips and, for a moment, she wanted to lean forward and kiss her.

no, stop that.

"thanks," marlene rasped out. "i should— i should go back in. he doesn't mind, does he?" she asked, nodding towards her lit up cigarette.

meadowes shook her head and, with the corner of her eyes, marlene could see her grinning; her heart skipped a beat and, hoping that she hadn't gone red in the face, she stepped back inside, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

[monstersflashlight]

Hi :) Uhmm ... I like how you write, these past few days it become my obsession and joy. ( I am so sorry, I am so bad at giving compliments!)

Uhmmm .... If I may be so bold I would like to share an idea? I just thought about absolutely cocky and arogant male, womanizer Cerberos. The reader has love/hate relationship towards him. Well and after one wild party, he would corner reader and showed them his true form. And holding onto his word to rock reader´s world (quite literally)

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoy my content, it means the world. Sorry for the long wait, adult life sucks so bad. Also, I added the anon question, hope you don’t mind. The idea that Cerberus is the one you hit on when tipsy sounds so cute to let it pass. I took the liberty to make cerberus a type of monster, so they’re just one of them and not THE cerberus, you know. I imagine they’re like a werewolf but with three heads, and like not human form, just a wolfy-guy with three heads. Each head talks separately, but in this there’s no difference between them to not make it hard to follow, but I think it’s quite good. Hope you enjoy! <3

Three heads are better than one

Cerberus (they/them) x fem!reader || fingering, public sex, dirty talk

When a cerberus started to work on your law firm, you two hit it the wrong way from the start. You were a top tier lawyer and they couldn’t understand that a human could be better than them. Three heads think better than one, how could a puny human like you be better than them? But you were, and it infuriated them. But it also fueled your banter with so much sexual tension you could taste it. But you didn’t do anything about it because everyone at the office knew they were a womanizer, they had a new girl every few days and never dated anyone. They were just there for the sex. Or that’s what everyone at the office said. But dang you wanted to hit it off with them so bad, you needed to know what their three mouths tasted like, how would it be to have three brains focused on your pleasure… That sounded delicious in the best possible way.

So when you catch them and their friends in a bar, after a few drinks, you think it’s time. You approach them and their friends at the end of the bar, ready to do something about your pent up sexual tension. You two have been dancing around each other for what feels like ages, and your tipsy brain thinks the best moment to do something about it is right now, right there. When you get closer, you can hear their friends making fun of them and elbowing them as they all giggle, pointing at you. You add a little bit of movement to your hips and hope it doesn’t look too ridiculous.

“Hi darling, how’s your night going?” You touch their pecs as all three of their heads focus on you. You blush, but keep caressing their torso over their shirt, you squeeze a bit and they slap your hand softly.

“Human, get lost.” You can’t understand how their voice can sound so harsh and so sexy at the same time, you can feel your panties melting. Maybe the alcohol has a part to blame, drinking always made you horny, and today is not different.

You pout, bating your lashes in your best puppy look. “Why are you always so mean?” Their three heads blink slowly at you, almost took out balance by your question.

“What? We’re not mean, you are just too soft,” they answer. You scoff, if they want to play that game you can give as better as receive. Uh, receiving… That’s exactly what you want. In a sexy way, against a wall if possible. They look like they can lift you up and fuck you.

“I’m not soft. I’m human. And you are mean.” You think you heard him say something about how they’re already aware that you are human, but you aren’t sure, the bar is really loud and the world is spinning around you.

“You need to go away before we do something all of us would regret.” Their central head is the one doing the talking, but the other two nod along.

“I don’t want to.” You know you sound bratty and entitled, but you are horny and everyone says they’re a womanizer, why are they not womanizing you? “You don’t like humans, is that it?”

“Trust me, they like humans. They like them reeeeeal good.” One of their friends says behind them. All of them laugh, but your coworkers are looking at you like they are going to dig a hole through your body just with their eyes.

“Come with me.” They sound fed up, like they are going to scold you and it’s going to feel awful. But your tipsy brain doesn’t process it fully, so you follow them without questioning. They lead you to the back of the bar, the hallway that leads to the bathroom. The music is softer there, you can listen to your own brain better.

They push you against the wall, they body pressing against your front. You shiver, anticipation filling your guts and their low growl making you whimper. “We can smell how wet you are, we can almost taste your desire. You are too tempting for your own good, honey.” You think the pet name was condescending every time they used it before, but at that moment, it sounds like a caress.

Their hands found the edge of your skirt as they grab your leg and position it against their hip. You are open and exposed, your skirt riding up and your soaked panties in the open. You whine again. You never felt as dirty and naughty as you do now, it’s maddening. They cress the outside of your thigh as they rock their hips against you, letting you feel their cock through your panties. You moan loudly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” You know you’d be embarrassed beyond belief about it the next morning, but right now you don’t care. You can only think about how good their finger feels inside of you, and how much you wish that was their cock. When they move your panties to the side and push one finger inside your needy pussy, you cry out.

“Not here, little human.” They press against your G-spot, making your knees buckle under you. They grab your waist and holds you pressed against the wall as you pant. “If tomorrow you feel like this again, then we can talk.” They said, their fingers slowly thrusting into you.

“What?” You ask, trying to focus on their words and not the wonders they’re doing on your pussy. Their thumb rolls over your clit and you have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. It feels so good. You start to move your hips at the rhythm of their thrusts.

“We’ve been waiting forever to get your attention, We’re not wasting it on a quick fuck on a bar.” Their voice sounds serious and you feel confused as fuck. What are they talking about? They hate you, they always pick stupid fights with you over the silliest things.

“What?” You ask, trying to grab their hand but holding onto their shoulders, moving your hips faster. The rational part of you is not present, only your whore-ish part.

“We’ve been waiting to ask you out but we thought you wouldn’t want us.” They mutter that under their breath, you barely catch it.

“What?” You ask, once more. Are they saying they like you? They wanted to ask you out? But… But the gossip. They said they didn’t date, you never saw them with anybody, just random hookups. “What?” You ask again.

“You… We… We have a bit of a human kink with you, okay? You are so soft and so pretty. We can’t stop thinking about you. And then you get up in front of the judge and good lord do you look good. You look magnificent.” Their voice sounds amazed, like they are telling the truth and they truly like you. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your question is lost when their thumb starts rubbing against your clit. You think they answer something, but your brain is fuzzy with pleasure. “Stop touching my clit I can’t focus.” You whisper, trying to look at them and see if they aren’t lying. There’s no way they want you, is it?

“What if we don’t want you to focus? What if we want you coming around our fingers until you are crying out how much you love it? How much you like being stretched in public by us?” You moan so loud they have to cover your mouth with their unoccupied hand. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” Your pussy involuntarily clenches around their fingers. “Oh, naughty girl, you do want to get caught. Does that excite you? Do you want everyone to see how improper you really are? You are such a good lawyer but then you part your legs for us in the back of the bar… Such a dirty, dirty woman.” You shiver, your juices flowing around their fingers. You’ve never been as turned on as you are right there, their fingers feel divine and you are so fucking close.

“Please…” Your plea sounds pathetic and you blush, but they just smirk at you, two of their heads attacking your neck at the same time. Feeling the two sets of mouths against your neck combined with the feel of their fingers moving inside of you is getting you so wet their hand is making filthy sounds.

“You are so wet for us, so soft. I bet you taste amazing. We are going to spend so much time licking you. Do you know what they say about cerberus?” You shake your head. “We give the best head because we have three of them. Do you want to feel three tongues against your pussy, honey? Do you want to be worshiped by three heads?” The image they are painting in your head is so good you want to open your legs and ask them to do it right there. But you are so close already, their fingers feel so fantastic inside of you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rolling your hips. They accompany your movement, getting you almost to the edge.

“Are you going to come for us? Are you going to be a good woman and come around our fingers? We can’t wait to feel you around our dicks, bet you are going to feel better than any pussy we ever had. Our first human. Our only human. What are you gonna do, honey? Do you want to suck us off?” You nod eagerly, so close. “Of course you want to, you want to be a good little human for us.” You get the feeling them calling you human is doing more for them than for you. Their human kink is playing in your favor. “Come for us, human.” They whisper against your ear as the other two heads suck on your neck.

The combination of fingers and mouths makes your body shake uncontrollably against theirs, your orgasm so good you almost fall down. You can feel your juices dripping down and soaking your panties and their fingers. They take their fingers away and you watch in amazement as they raise their hand to lick it, all three of their heads getting some. You moan as aftershocks rock your body.

They put your panties back in place and slowly lower your leg. Your legs are shaky and you grab onto their arm. Three heads smile down at you, one of them looking specially smug. They pass an arm over your shoulders and help you walk out of the hallway. “Let us take you home.” They whisper, their hold on you so hard it feels wonderful. It feels so good you could fall asleep right there. They gave you the orgasm of your life and on top of it, they are sweet about it. You judged them so bad you feel like shit. You can always make it up to them at some point. You add it to your mental list of things to do in the morning, even though you know you won’t remember.

“There’s no need.” You try to argue, without any force behind your words. You really want to spend more time with them.

“We want to.” Their voice is final, you know that tone. That’s the tone they use in court, and you know you can’t win against it.

They drive you home as you fidget with your rings, nervous after what happened, after what they said. You want to run, to break the silence, but you are speechless. You don’t know what to say and the alcohol you had is kicking you really hard. You feel sleepy and tired, more than ready to go to bed.

They follow you to your house, opening your door and leading you to your bedroom where they help you get undressed. You think they are going to do something more, but they barely touch your naked body as they cover you with a blanket.

You feel three soft forehead kisses before they say: “We aren’t playing games with you, honey. We want to play with your pussy, yes, but not with your heart. We hope you give us a chance.” You nod, and try to answer, but your eyes are so heavy that you can’t keep them open, your brain shutting down.

When you wake up the next morning with a text saying: “We can’t wait to have you sucking our cock. And then we can go to dinner, we booked the fancy restaurant you like.” You giggle on your pillow and kick your legs. Yeah… That sounds like the start of a very fun game.

[fanaticsnail]

Maybe some other time, Wire

Hey Doc Masterlist

Word Count: 900+

Synopsis: Wire is curious about your past and asking a lot of questions. You would prefer if he left this for another time considering the operation you're performing.

Themes: Kid Pirates x gn!reader, platonic series, you are 'Doc', the doctor of the Kid Pirates. Risky language, not explicit, humour, Wire is being intrusive, he tests your patience. This started as a fun crack series, and I needed to bring it back.

Notes: Permissions for art used from @magnuspirate was given, and how beautiful is he? Go and have a look at their other work. I am obsessed with how they draw Heat, alongside the other Kid Pirates. I dreamed about this fic last night and woke up laughing a little bit about it. 5am fic writing, my beloved.

“Hey, Doc?” The calm and low baritone of the trident user called sweetly over his shoulder to you, “Why don't you like to talk about your past?”

His question seemed reasonable enough. You had yet to really discuss who you were, what you did, or anything to do with personal relationships before joining the Kid Pirates. You weren't a native to the North like the majority of the crew, being an outsider they let in when visiting a port.

Letting out a soft sigh, you shook your head and continued to make good on the taste you set for yourself. Knitting your brows tighter together, you pursed your lips and used your utensil to extract another small object between their pincers.

“I just don't particularly like talking about me,” you utter without inflection on the words, “It's not a pretty story, nor is it remotely interesting in my opinion.” You placed the object in a small container before making to go back for another, “Now, I would prefer to focus on what I'm doing, so if you would please refrain from asking me questions, I would appreciate it.”

Wire pondered for a few moments, humming softly as he thought more on your deflection of the question.

“You know, I'm no ships counselor,” Wire uttered defensively, “But even I know not to internalize your past, especially when it caused you such a hard injury earlier.”

You look down at your healed leg briefly, still feeling the sting of the object embedded in your muscle, and the sour flavor from the poison igniting your blood. Shaking it off, you once again return to what you had set yourself to do.

“You're right,” you agree with him, nodding briefly, “You're not ship's counselor. Now, please stop asking me questions about my past. I would be happy to answer anything you want soon, but not now.”

Wire seemed to take this as his queue to sit in silence as you plucked and prodded at your latest project. But that silence only lasted as long as his questions halted its burn.

“Who was that person?” Wire asked you suddenly, his voice a little louder than it had been moments prior, “And why did they attack you on sight?” You sighed through your nose at this, rolling your neck on your shoulders to rid it of tension from your hunched position.

“Some other time, Wire,” you growled, your voice low and laced with warning. Wire refused to take that as reason enough to stop, curiosity eating at him the longer you avoided it.

“And the poison?” he asked you suddenly, “Why did you have a cure under your bed? Were you expecting something like this?”

“Wire,” you made your voice a little louder, disciplinary and tough, “Enough. I am concentrating.”

“And why did-?” Wire began once more, prompting you to throw your tweezers into the tray beside you and move to where he was laying face down on the medical bay.

Bringing your eyes to his, you narrowed them and upturned your lip to a soft grimace.

“Wire, I said some other time,” you spoke firmly, “I did not say ‘no’, nor did I avoid the questions you’re asking.” You nod along, ensuring you maintained eye contact with him. “I will answer you, just not now. Do you understand?”

Wire furrowed his brows, his mop of dark and silvery curls dancing at his face with his hood laying on the medical office chair. Still reclining on his belly, his curiosity plagued him as he darted his eyes between yours.

“Why won't you answer me now? We're alone, you don't have to think about it, you can just speak,” he commented, gently reaching one of his larger hands towards you and giving your forearm a friendly squeeze. “I thought we were friends. You don't have to talk, but I can admit, the curiosity has been eating at me since we got back from our mission to that island together.”

You inhaled a deep lungful of air, expanding your chest with it, before deflating it through a lengthy exhale through your nose.

“Wire,” you warn him almost sweetly, “You are currently laying flat down, on your belly, on my examination bed with your briefs, shoes and fishnets tucked neatly on the chair in front of you.” You gesture towards the chair his hood was tucked on. “And I am currently operating extremely close to, and directly on, your anus.”

You gesture towards the tray, reminding him where he was, and who he was talking to. A warm blush flooded his whiskered cheeks, burning his features with the hot ignition of a large fluster.

“Now, while I appreciate the sentiment, and I adore you, commander,” you utter sweetly, returning to your position at his exposed rear cheeks, “Removing cactus spindles from your ass cheeks, inside and outside your rectum, and the ones you managed to collect on your scrotum…” you continued, picking up your tweezers and returning to your task, “...Is not the position I would like to be in when talking about my childhood.”

Wire gulped back his silence, burying his forehead on his butterflied out arms. The tips of his ears remained red as you continued, wanting to punish him a little for continuing to push your boundaries.

“The only place I appreciate winking at me when I talk is from the eyes attached to your face,” you comment, plucking another spindle from his flesh and placing it in the container beside you, “So, please refrain from asking me personal questions while I am so close to your sphincter. I think we would both prefer it if the mood for intimate conversation was set elsewhere. Am I clear, sir?”

Wire nodded, extending his left arm over his blushing head and gesturing with his thumb to confirm your orders.

“Aye, Doc,” he mumbled against his right arm, “You're clear.”

“Wonderful."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @nerium-lil @sinning-23 @a-killer-obsession

[irmawrites]

Night encounter

Summary: Living in Dragonstone, claiming a dragon, it all seemed surreal to Ulf. Having a Targaryen princess in his bed all to himself even more so.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: Ulf the White x Targaryen!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, she's his niece but she could be Rhaenyra's daughter or Alicent's daughter, it’s all up to you)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, slight degradation, corruption kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Word count: 2017

Author’s note: hi everyone! Not too long ago I received the following request: "I was wondering if you would do one where Ulf is infatuated with the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin after meeting her after he claims Silverwing and could it possibly progress into smut?". To say that I was delighted to receive a request for Ulf would be an understatement. I am literally obsessed with this character and I really wanted to write something for him <3 HOWEVER I am incredibly sorry it's filthy, it's inappropriate, honestly I'm almost ashamed I wrote it ahaha

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

From the first moment he saw you, Ulf knew he had to have you. Such a sweet little thing, all soft smiles and happy giggles. A real ray of sunshine. He and you may have been related, but you couldn't have been more different. Uncle and niece like the moon and the sun. Where he was rude and boorish, you were polite and gentle. Where his lack of manners and unkempt appearance worked against him, your tact and polished looks made you stand out among all the inhabitants of Dragonstone.

But while he appreciated your sensitivity and gentleness, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like when he finally robbed you of your innocence.

And a little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that it was just a facade, a role you only played in public. You weren't the perfect princess you pretended to be, of that he was almost certain. After all, hadn't he noticed your eyes wandering to his fingers several times while he licked off the meat juices that stained them? And then there was that one evening, during a meal, when your hand had wandered to his thigh. You had gently brushed his crotch, where a bulge was already stretching the linen of his breeches, without even looking at him, too busy laughing with Jacaerys. The older man remembered clearly how he had had to excuse himself in a hurry, feigning sudden fatigue and retreating to the chambers assigned to him. That night he had imagined your lips wrapped around his impossibly hard member, your silver curls between his fingers and your eyes locked with his as he pressed your nose against his pelvis, forcing you to take more, always more. He had come with a loud grunt, painting his palm white, and then swore he would have you. It was almost a matter of life and death for him at that point.

Perhaps the Seven had heard his plight, if they existed, for they soon offered him everything he wanted on a silver platter.

Claiming Silverwing was the achievement of a lifetime, and yet it seemed like a dull moment when he opened the door to his bedroom and found himself face to face with the woman he had been lusting after for weeks. Dressed in an almost transparent silk nightgown, you looked like one of his heated dreams. Instinctively, he even pinched the skin at the crook of his elbow to make sure it was all real and you weren't a figment of his wild imagination. "I couldn't sleep," he heard you say, your voice almost shy, "with this storm." Oh, but he knew that your nocturnal visit had nothing to do with the lightning that tore across the sky, or the thunder that shook the walls of the fortress. If you were there, it was simply because you too were unable to resist the tension between the two of you for a single minute longer. "Come in," his hand automatically came to rest on your waist to guide you inside, "I wouldn't want to keep a princess waiting".

If asked, Ulf wouldn't have been able to explain how he ended up in bed with your body pressed against his. Maybe it was you who had taken his hand and made him lie down beside you. Or maybe it was he who had persuaded you to slip into his arms, into his sheets, to find some welcome comfort. Everything seemed a blur now, especially as your buttocks pressed against his crotch.

You wiggled your hips. Maybe accidentally, maybe consciously, he didn't know, but the effect was the same. He could feel the warmth of your body under the layers of fabric, and he was desperate to show you what happened to women like you in the arms of men like him. It felt like a punishment, forcing himself to remain chaste and not give in to his desires in such a situation. Not to touch you when you were so close to him and his length was already so painfully hard.

He moved his lips to your ear, his breath caressing your skin. His hands slid down your chest and he let his thumbs lightly caress the two small, hardened buds. "Tell me to stop," he whispered as his fingers slid lower and lower, grazing the hem of your underwear in the hollow where your thigh met your hip, "tell me to stop if that's not what you want". "That's exactly what I want," your voice sounded like a breathless moan as your hand rested on his, as if to encourage him to give you more, " and I want you to continue."

The idea that he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted, made his head spin.

Between your legs, his fingers found your wet folds. "You're soaking wet," he breathed as he traced your slit from your entrance to that sensitive spot that sent shivers down your entire body, "we've barely started and you're already soaking wet." It was almost inconceivable that a beautiful, delicate princess like you would agree to give herself to a gruff old man like him. "How does it feel, here?", he asked as he kissed your neck, your back still pressed against his torso as his index finger circled your little pearl beneath the fabric of your underwear. "It's... It feels good", your voice was choked, a broken moan, "warm". Ulf gave an approving grunt. "And here?", his tone became more authoritative, and soon two of his fingers were inside you, stretching you just right. Tired of waiting, he barely gave you time to get used to the new sensation before he started moving back and forth, leaving you breathless. "Answer me". He could already feel you clenching around him, the friction against your inner walls something you'd never felt before. "I can feel your fingers inside me," you finally managed to answer, and to reward you he pressed a little harder against that sensitive spot that made you see stars, "I feel... full." He couldn't help smiling against the soft skin of your neck. "Don't worry, sweetheart," as if to back up his words, he pressed his fingers impossibly deeper, burying them in your wet warmth, "you'll feel even fuller soon."

He withdrew them almost immediately with an obscene noise. That would leave you empty, he knew, but he also knew that he wanted you to come around another part of his body for the first time, and not just on his fingers.

"Undress," the older man ordered, pointing vaguely with his chin at the little bit of clothing you were wearing. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips as you stood completely naked before him, kneeling between his thighs. "Such a pretty body," his voice sounded almost distracted, his fingers busy sliding down your sides as if to show you were to his liking, "a pretty mouth too, I wonder what it would look like around my cock." He saw you bite your lower lip before finally answering, emboldened: "Perhaps I could show you." Your hands rested first on his chest, brushing against the linen of the tunic he wore for the night. Then they slid lower, much lower, replaying a scene Ulf had seen a hundred times in his dreams. Your fingers undid the drawstring that held his breeches together and he had to remind himself not to make you pick up the pace, to give him what he wanted right then and there.

A curse escaped him as your hand finally wrapped around his manhood. It looked so big, massive, between your forefinger and thumb, which couldn't quite touch. And when your lips finally brushed the head, where he was already weeping for you, he threw his head back on the heavy silk pillows. It took all his strength and resilience not to close his eyes from the pleasure he felt from your back and forth movements and the wet warmth of your mouth. "You're doing so well," he growled as his hand made its way to the back of your head, finding refuge in your silver locks, "sucking my cock so well, like the perfect little whore you are." Around his member he could feel the vibrations of your audible moan. It seemed you liked it when people didn't really treat you like the princess you were supposed to be, but more like a cheap slut from a seedy pillow house. A discovery that couldn't have made him happier.

The vision was royal, the sensation divine. He felt like a king, he felt like a god, with a dragon under his feet and a Targaryen princess pleasuring him with her mouth. He had everything that he had ever wished for and yet he wanted more, needed more.

Bloody greed.

His grip on the back of your head tightened, forcing you back a few inches. His gaze fell on your red, swollen lips, glistening with spit and something else that testified to your sinful actions. You smiled at him, obviously proud of yourself, and he couldn't help but kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. "On all fours," he ordered, right against the skin of your neck, his voice hoarse with desire. The order may have been short, the tone a little awkward, hurried, but you understood immediately what he was trying to tell you. With your face now pressed into the pillows and your hips raised, Ulf could hardly believe that this was your first time, and yet. One of his hands cupped his still aching manhood while the other gripped the flesh at your waist. Captivated by the sight of his member disappearing into your wet heat, his eyes couldn't leave the spot where the two of you were joined for a single second. "Fuck," he groaned as he gave you time to adjust to his presence, "such a tight cunt." Despite his vast experience, he had never tasted, never felt anything like this in his dull life of Flea Bottom brothel escapades and quick embraces with nameless prostitutes. Perhaps it was because he was now living with real royalty, or perhaps it was because your exchange was different, more intimate, almost affectionate.

He withdrew almost completely, the friction against your inner walls agonisingly delicious. Your juices had left his member soaked and glistening, a sight that drove him deeper into you this time, the headboard hitting the wall with a thud. "M... more," you begged as he pulled out again, your voice like a broken moan that made his head spin with desire and possessiveness. The older man was more than happy to comply, quickening the pace of his thrusts. Soon the pleasure became too strong, too great to articulate anything coherent. He wanted to tell you how good you felt, how perfect you really were around him, but the words remained stuck in his throat and only grunts managed to break through the barrier of his half-open lips. But you weren't any better. Beneath him you were a mess of moans and gasps, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly. You were close, he could tell, you had grown impossibly tight around him, and he was tired of making you wait. So, in an act of mercy, he let his own fingers slip between your thighs to briefly rub your pearl and finally, finally, push you over the edge. He joined you almost immediately, his approaching climax accelerated by the rhythmic clenching of your walls around him.

It was probably foolish to pour into you with white ropes, to fill you in a different way this time. But when exactly had Ulf ever been responsible? The sight was simply mesmerising, the mingled evidence of your release flowing from your still clenching hole as he withdrew. So divine that he could hardly tear his eyes away. And as you pressed against him, seeking the warmth of his arms, your noses brushing together in an achingly tender touch, he mused that he was prepared to do many more foolish things to keep a thing as sweet as you by his side.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Leave

We interrupt your usual program of Astarion to bring you Aemond Targaryen, my newest obsession. (song listened to while writing this is Shatter Me by Lindsey Sterling)

You spot your lord husband staring out the window at the city beneath. It's quieter than usual, the usual bustling of merchants now a whisper and fewer lights flicker in the dark. The city knows war is about to break out in full force soon, the common folk speak of it in hushed whispers, and you can feel the tension in the air.

"Aemond," you call out softly, announcing your presence as you make your way over to him. He remains silent, still looking out the window even as you settle beside him.

He's never like this, the rumours might be true after all.

You're not sure what to say, you don't even know what exactly happened at the Small Council today but you have an inkling of what went down. You'd seen Queen Alicent scowling as she briskly walked out of the room, Ser Criston Cole hurrying alongside her, heard the other members mutter something about your lord husband, their prince, and give you harsh glares. Concerned and furious, you'd searched for Aemond, only to be denied entry into your shared chambers by his guards no matter how much you tried to force your way in before storming off to the godswood to cool off.

You'd waited and waited until nightfall before approaching your shared chambers once more, and now here you are, right next to him and still he refuses to see you. You play with your sleeves anxiously, wanting to know what had happened but at the same time wanting to give him the space he needed.

"My pri—"

"Aren't you going to leave me too?" His words come out harsh, like arrows that pierce through your heart.

"Leave?" You ask, confused.

"Did you not hear me clearly the first time?" He snarls, features twisting in fury.

"Why would I leave you?" You reach out to touch him but he slaps your hand away, eye narrowed.

"Because I'm a monster who wants war, a kinslayer who wants to kill the rest of my kin, a bloodthirsty prince who—" The rest of his words get caught in his throat. Tears prick the corner of his eye but he swallows the urge to break down in front of you. His throat bobs as he lifts his head high, just like his mother always taught him to. Show no weakness, lest others take advantage of you.

"You're none of those." You shake your head. "You're a prince who wants to protect those he loves, you see the threat looming over their heads and want to remove it as soon as possible, you're my dragon prince who just wants to see those he cares about safe, and that's why I fell in love with you."

He snorts, pushing you away. "Lies. All of them."

Still you persist, your fingers gently brushing against his arm and he flinches slightly. He chews his bottom lip, hesitantly lifting his eye to meet your gaze. You hold the connection, resting your hand on his forearm. This time he doesn't move.

"I would never leave you." The tone of your voice leaves no room for argument and for a moment, Aemond is taken aback by your ferocity. Then he gives you a small smile, resting his hand on top of yours. His thumb runs over your smooth skin, feeling the size of your hand against his, feeling the warmth that resides in it.

You're still here. Even after everyone has left him.

His lip trembles, struggling to hold back the dam that wants nothing more than to burst forth. His throat feels tight, his smile wavering and then you pull him into a hug, burying your face into his chest.

You're all he has left.

His arms wrap themselves around you, holding you tightly as he presses his lips against the top of your head. Tears start to roll down his cheek silently, with him biting back the sobs that clog his throat. He doesn't want to show such weakness in front of you, and yet you always manage to coax it out of him.

Gently, you lead him to your shared bed, cradling his face between your palms, your thumb wiping his tears away. Your soft lips press against his, a quick peck before you slip the eyepatch off, and then another kiss on the sapphire sitting in his empty eye socket.

"If the world was ending, I would want nothing more than to be next to you."

The words are but a whisper, spoken within the walls of your shared chambers for no one but him to hear, and are more than enough to shatter the dam. Your dragon prince weeps, sobs wracking his slender frame and tears stain the fabric of your clothes. You continue to cradle him in your arms, your heart aching with each cry that spills from his lips.

His fingernails dig into your sleeves as he clings onto you like you're his lifeline while you run your fingers through his silver-gold hair. You feel him lean into your touch, almost keening. He needs you just as much as you need him, he needs you to be there to catch him when he falls, to be the shoulder for him to cry on, to be the only witness to his weakness.

You patiently wait for him to let it all out, sitting in silence until he lifts his red puffy eye to meet yours. He swallows, letting you coax him into lying down and buries his face into your chest.

You smell nice, like home, like comfort, and he knows he's secure in your arms. Just for tonight, your roles are reversed. You're his shelter, his haven, and only in your arms does he allow his walls to come down.

"Promise?" He asks, his voice thick with sorrow. He sounds so small, so vulnerable, nothing like the prince he is outside of these doors.

"Promise." You nod. He sighs, relaxing against you and places a palm on your cheek. You rest your hand on top of his, keeping it there as your fingers intertwine, connecting the both of you.

"I won't ever leave you too," he whispers, letting his eye close.

"I know, my dragon."

[bitchiswild]

Distracted | Purinz

G!P Yunjin x G!P Chaewon x F! Reader Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: threesome,face fucking, cream pie, etc. A/n: First time writing a threesome tell me how it is😊 REQUESTED

"Y/n, can you please pay attention? I'm not enjoying this any more than you are, but we really need to finish this," Yunjin said, annoyed, glancing up from her laptop to see you squirming in your seat.

"Yeah, Y/n, listen to the nerd. Let's just get this over with," Chaewon added with a scoff, her arms crossed as she slouched in her chair with her legs spread out.

Your head snapped towards them with a glare, muttering under your breath in frustration as you turned your attention back to your part of the project. The three of you were gathered at Chaewon's house to work on the project together. You and Chaewon had never gotten along. Ever since your mutual friend/ teammate Kazuha introduced you to her, the popular girl, and you, the captain of the soccer (football) team, there had been tension. The two of you constantly got on each other's nerves.

Yunjin, on the other hand, was a different story. She was practically a loner, not having many friends and always focusing on her studies. She was what some might call a "nerd," always engrossed in nerdy activities.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in Chaewon's living room grew increasingly tense. Despite the shared goal of completing the project, the underlying animosity between you and Chaewon continued to simmer beneath the surface.

Yunjin, sensing the growing tension, tried to mediate. "Alright, guys, let's try to focus and work together," she said, attempting to steer the conversation back to the task at hand.

But Chaewon couldn't resist taking a jab at you. "Yeah, Y/n, try not to mess this up like you always do on the field," she remarked with a smirk.

Your temper flared, and you shot back, "At least I contribute something other than empty popularity."

Yunjin sighed, recognizing the futility of trying to defuse the situation. She returned to her laptop, quietly typing away, determined to finish her portion of the project despite the brewing conflict.

The tension between you and Chaewon escalated with every passing moment. Each word exchanged felt like a verbal jab, intensifying the animosity that had long simmered between you.

In a moment of frustration, Chaewon leaned in closer, her voice dripping with disdain. "You know, Y/n, maybe if you focused less on sports and more on actually using your brain, you wouldn't always be at the bottom of the class," she sneered.

Your jaw clenched as you fought to maintain your composure, but the comment struck a nerve. "And maybe if you weren't so obsessed with being the center of attention, you'd realize there's more to life than popularity," you retorted, your tone sharp with anger.

The room fell silent for a tense moment, the air thick with unresolved tension. But then, unexpectedly, Chaewon's expression shifted, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.

"You know, Y/n," she said, her voice lowering to a husky whisper, "for someone who talks a big game, you sure seem to have a lot of pent-up frustration."

Your heart skipped a beat as her words hung in the air, the tension between you suddenly taking on a different, more charged quality. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the animosity giving way to something altogether more primal.

Caught off guard by the sudden shift in dynamics, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from Chaewon's, the air crackling with an unspoken challenge.

Yunjin glanced up from her laptop, startled by the sudden change in atmosphere. Her eyes widened as she watched Chaewon saunter towards you with deliberate steps, her movements oozing confidence and a hint of something darker. It was as if Chaewon had transformed into a predator, and you were her unsuspecting prey.

Chaewon's gaze bore into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a raw hunger in her eyes, a desire that seemed to consume her entirely. It was a look you had never seen from her before, one that stirred something primal within you despite the lingering tension between you.

As she drew closer, the air between you crackled with anticipation, thick with unspoken desire. Your heart raced in your chest, torn between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull drawing you closer to her.

Yunjin watched in silence, her expression unreadable as she observed the electric exchange unfolding before her. It was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl, the world narrowing down to the charged space between you and Chaewon, where every breath, every heartbeat seemed to echo with the promise of something forbidden.

As Chaewon closed the distance between you, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. And then, in a low, husky voice that sent shivers down your spine, she uttered words that made your heart skip a beat.

"You know, Y/n," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction, "I've always wondered what it would feel like to have you beneath me, begging for more."

Your breath caught in your throat at her brazen words, your mind reeling with a heady mix of desire and disbelief. Before you could form a coherent response, Chaewon closed the remaining distance between you, her lips crashing against yours in a fervent kiss that ignited a firestorm of passion within you.

In that moment, everything else faded away as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of Chaewon's lips moving against yours with a hunger that matched your own. It was a kiss filled with longing, with pent-up desire that had been simmering between you for far too long.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, you melted into Chaewon's embrace, your hands tangling in her hair as you lost yourself in the overwhelming rush of sensation. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent confession of all the unspoken desires that had lingered between you, finally finding release in the electrifying connection you shared.

As Yunjin sat there, her face flushed at the scene unfolding before her, she couldn't help but stutter out, "I-I think I should leave..."

But her words were drowned out by your escalating moans, the intensity of the moment overpowering any attempts at rational thought.

Chaewon, her voice husky with desire, murmured against your ear, "Do you like that, Y/n? Do you want more?"

You could only manage a breathless nod in response as Chaewon continued to grope and tease, her touch igniting flames of pleasure within you.

"Tell me what you want," Chaewon whispered, her lips brushing against yours in a teasing caress.

"I want..." you began, your voice barely a whisper, "I want you..."

And with that confession, Chaewon's hunger reached its peak. Without hesitation, she pulled you into a searing kiss, her hands roaming freely over your body as she eagerly explored every inch of your desire. The sound of your moans mingled with the rhythm of your pounding hearts, filling the room with a symphony of passion as you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating pleasure of the moment.

The room was charged with tension as Yunjin remained frozen in her seat, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene unfolding before her. Your moans, growing increasingly desperate, echoed through the room, sending a shiver down her spine.

Unable to resist the overwhelming arousal building within her, Yunjin's hand drifted down to cup her hardening cock, whimpering softly at the electrifying sensitivity that coursed through her body.

Your head snapped towards Yunjin at the sound of her whimper, and you caught Chaewon's eye as she began to kiss down your neck. "Chaewon," you sighed out, your voice a breathless plea, "Nerd over there wants some action."

Chaewon detached herself from your neck, her gaze flickering to Yunjin's flushed face with a wicked smirk. "Aw, is the nerd getting turned on by watching two girls kiss?" she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Feeling emboldened by Chaewon's taunt, you crawled over to where Yunjin sat, guided by Chaewon's nod. "Tease her a little, Y/n," Chaewon instructed, her voice low and seductive.

You obeyed, brushing your fingers teasingly against Yunjin's face before trailing them down her body, eliciting a shuddered breath and a whimper from her. Your hand found its way to Yunjin's hardened bulge, and you began to rub it gently, feeling her tremble beneath your touch as desire surged through her.

Yunjin's breath hitched as she succumbed to the intoxicating sensation, her body responding eagerly to your teasing caresses. The air crackled with anticipation as you continued to explore Yunjin's desires, guided by Chaewon's wicked gaze and the heady rush of arousal that enveloped you all.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you continued to rub Yunjin's clothed cock, feeling it throb beneath your touch. Looking up at her with a daring smirk, you whispered, "Take off your pants, let me suck you off, nerd."

Yunjin wasted no time in complying, eagerly pushing down her pants and underwear in one swift motion. Your eyes widened at the sight of her exposed cock, a rush of excitement coursing through you as you took in its size.

"Who knew the nerd had such a pretty big cock," you remarked with a playful smirk, your voice filled with admiration.

Without hesitation, you leaned forward, your lips capturing Yunjin's throbbing member as you began to lavish it with attention. Your hand joined in, providing additional stimulation as you worked her with fervor, determined to bring her to the brink of pleasure.

Yunjin's moans filled the room, mingling with the sounds of your slurping as pleasure coursed through her. Lost in the intoxicating sensation, she surrendered herself to the pleasure of your touch, her body quivering with anticipation of the release that awaited her.

Your tongue explored every inch of her length, while your lips tightened around her shaft, creating a delicious friction that sent waves of pleasure through her.

Yunjin's hips bucked involuntarily, her hands gripping your hair as she surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. Her moans grew louder and more urgent, filling the room with desire and urging you on.

As you continued to pleasure Yunjin, your mouth occupied with sucking and stroking her cock, Chaewon's actions caught you off guard. With a wicked grin, she swiftly whipped out her own cock and began to tug your shorts and panties down, exposing your needy core to the cool air.

"Looks like someone's eager to join in on the fun," Chaewon purred, her voice dripping with lust as she eyed your exposed body hungrily.

You moaned around Yunjin's cock, the sensation of Chaewon's hands on you sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. "Oh, fuck, Chaewon," you gasped, your voice laced with desire, "don't stop."

Chaewon chuckled darkly as she teased your throbbing clit with her fingers, her touch sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. "You're such a needy slut, Y/n," she taunted, her voice low and seductive, "but I love it."

Your breath hitched as Chaewon's fingers dipped lower, teasingly circling your entrance before sliding inside you with ease. "Fuck, Chaewon," you moaned, your words barely coherent as pleasure washed over you in waves.

Meanwhile, Yunjin watched with rapt attention, her own arousal evident as she enjoyed the show unfolding before her. The air crackled with anticipation as the three of you indulged in the forbidden pleasure, lost in the intoxicating haze of desire.

As Chaewon continued to tease and taunt you, her fingers danced along the slick folds of your entrance, eliciting a low whimper of anticipation from you. With a devilish grin, she guided the tip of her cock to your dripping entrance, teasingly rubbing it against your slick folds.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation, your body trembling with need as Chaewon teased you mercilessly. "Come on, Y/n," she teased, her voice dripping with desire, "you know you want it."

You moaned in response, your hips instinctively bucking towards her, desperate for more. "Please," you whimpered, your voice pleading, "don't tease me like this."

But Chaewon only chuckled darkly, her eyes glinting with mischief as she continued to tease your entrance with the tip of her cock. "You're such a slut, Y/n," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper, "begging for it like this."

The sensation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need as you yearned for her to fill you completely. With a final, torturous tease, Chaewon relented, pushing her cock slowly into you, inch by agonizing inch, until you were filled to the brim with her.

As Chaewon teased and tantalized you with her cock, Yunjin couldn't help but be drawn into the electrifying scene unfolding before her. Her breath quickened as she watched, her own arousal mounting with each passing moment.

With a seductive smirk, Chaewon glanced over at Yunjin, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Why don't you join in, Yunjin?" she purred, her voice filled with desire. "I'm sure Y/n wouldn't mind having both of us to play with."

Yunjin's cheeks flushed with excitement as she nodded eagerly, her hands trembling as she pushed you off with anticipation as she reached out to join in the erotic encounter. With trembling fingers, she began to stroke her own cock, mirroring the rhythm of Chaewon's movements as she teased you with her own.

You gasped in pleasure as Yunjin's hands joined in, the sensation of being pleasured by both of them driving you to new heights of ecstasy. Your body trembled with pleasure as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensations, lost in the intoxicating haze of desire.

The room was filled with the sound of your moans and gasps, mingling with the slick sounds of flesh slapping against eachother as the three of you indulged in the forbidden pleasure. With each passing moment, the intensity of your arousal grew, driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As the pleasure mounted, you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of release, the tantalizing touch of Chaewon and Yunjin pushing you over the edge into blissful oblivion. With a final, ecstatic cry, you succumbed to the overwhelming waves of pleasure, your body convulsing with ecstasy as you reached the pinnacle of pleasure.

Chaewon pounded into you, driving you to new heights of pleasure, Yunjin seized the opportunity to indulge in her own desires. With a hunger in her eyes, she reclaimed your mouth, her lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss.

You moaned into the kiss, your body responding eagerly to her touch as she deepened the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless. Meanwhile, Chaewon's relentless thrusts sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

With a wicked grin, Yunjin broke the kiss, her eyes glinting with mischief as she pushed you down onto the bed. "Open wide, Y/n," she whispered, her voice husky with desire, "I want to fuck your face."

Without hesitation, she positioned herself above you, her cock poised at your lips as she thrust forward, forcing you to take her into your mouth once again. You eagerly complied, sucking and stroking her with enthusiasm as she face-fucked you with a relentless rhythm.

The sensation was overwhelming, the dual stimulation of Chaewon's thrusts and Yunjin's cock driving you to new heights of pleasure. You moaned around Yunjin's cock, the vibrations sending shivers of ecstasy coursing through her as she drove herself deeper into your mouth.

Lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure, you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensations, your body trembling with desire as you were consumed by the ecstasy of the moment. With each passing moment, the intensity of your arousal grew, driving you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Chaewon continued to thrust into you with unrelenting fervor, the intensity of her movements driving you to the brink of ecstasy, you felt her body tense with impending release. With a sharp cry of pleasure, Chaewon reached her peak, her hips bucking wildly as she spilled her seed deep inside you.

"Fuck, Y/n, you feel so fucking good," Chaewon gasped, her voice filled with ecstasy as she emptied herself into you. "You like that, huh? You like taking my cock deep inside you."

You gasped in pleasure as you felt her hot release filling you, waves of pleasure washing over you as she emptied herself into you completely. "God, yes," you muttered against Yunjins cock, your voice filled with need. "I love it, Chaewon. I love feeling you inside me."

With one final, powerful thrust, Chaewon collapsed against you, spent from the intensity of her climax. "Fuck," she breathed, her voice husky with satisfaction.

Feeling Chaewon's release triggered your own, you cried out in pleasure, your body convulsing with ecstasy as you reached the pinnacle of bliss. The sensation of her cumming inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you over the edge into an explosive climax of your own.

Meanwhile, Yunjin's cock remained in your mouth, her own pleasure evident as she moaned and gasped in response to the erotic scene unfolding before her. With a wicked grin, Chaewon withdrew from you, her fingers finding their way to your needy clit as she began to rub it with expert precision.

"Look at you, Y/n," Chaewon purred, her voice dripping with desire, "so desperate for release. You're such a little slut, aren't you?"

You moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure washed over you in waves. Chaewon's fingers worked tirelessly, driving you to new heights of ecstasy as she teased and tormented your sensitive clit.

And then, with a sharp cry of release, you reached your climax once again, your body trembling with the force of your release as pleasure consumed you entirely. The room was filled with the sound of your moans and gasps, mingling with the slick sounds of flesh against flesh as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensations.

As you and Chaewon basked in the aftermath of your climaxes, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction, Yunjin seized the opportunity to indulge in her own pleasure. With a low, guttural moan, she reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, her body trembling with the force of her release.

Feeling Yunjin's cock throb with the intensity of her climax, you eagerly accepted her into your mouth, welcoming her cum with open lips. You moaned in delight as Yunjin spilled her seed into your waiting mouth, the taste of her release driving you wild.

With each pulse of pleasure, you eagerly drank down every drop of her cum, savoring the taste of her release as it filled your mouth. The sensation of her cum mingling with yours sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, heightening the intensity of your own pleasure.

As Yunjin's climax subsided, you swallowed her seed with a satisfied sigh, relishing the taste of her release as it lingered on your tongue. The room was filled with the sound of your satisfied moans and the slick sounds of flesh against flesh as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensations.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, leaving all of you spent and breathless, you collapsed together in a tangled heap on the floor, limbs entwined in a deliciously intimate embrace. The room was filled with the heavy, heady scent of sex, a tangible reminder of the passion that had consumed you all.

"Fuck, that was amazing," Chaewon exclaimed, her voice laced with satisfaction as she caught her breath. A playful laugh escaped her lips as she added, "We should definitely do this again."

You hummed in agreement, a lazy smile gracing your lips as you reveled in the shared moment of intimacy. The rush of endorphins coursing through your veins left you feeling warm and content, your body tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

Beside you, Yunjin blushed at the suggestion, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. She couldn't bring herself to meet your gaze, but the shy smile that tugged at the corners of her lips spoke volumes.

As the three of you lay there in a blissful post-coital haze, basking in the afterglow of the unforgettable experience, a sense of camaraderie and closeness settled over you like a warm blanket. It was a moment you knew you would cherish forever, a memory that would bind you together in an unbreakable bond of shared pleasure and intimacy.

“Round 2 in my room?”

[orbitariums]

( in the accent of a suburban blk girlie ) dhmu just thinking ab being art and patrick's joint pretty little thing and they're both like hah ! art/patrick could never score a girl like this, she's different from every woman ive ever met ( black as hell, boujie as hell, BUILT as hell ), he doesn't have it like me. and then all of a sudden they both find themselves at a mostly black club she frequents and posts ab on myspace a lot and they both find themselves giving her flirty, llustful looks across the dance floor at her, go to give eachother a 'hah you could never pull all that' look and realize they're both doing the same thing and then realizing that you could pull any little frat-esque, trust funded white boy you wanted and they LOCK TF IN on proving they could treat and fuck you best

- 🎹

all that | artrick + black reader

literally obsessed with this request piano anon ... thissss is universe-building and i LOVEEEE to cross cultures >:-) also, made this playlist to fit the vibe (tried to keep it 2006 themed but haddd to throw some cash cobain in there — his new album is also perfect to listen to for this)

contains: a FINE black GYAL, art + patrick feening they ain't never BEEN with a baddie, smut: fingering, oral (f! receiving), threesome i realize i could've made this a drabble but i'm a writer. so imma write. so i hope y'all fw this! word count: 7.7k and not proofread

It's giving Stanford era Art and Patrick — Art feels like he has dibs on you because he met you first and takes a few classes with you. Unlike Patrick, Art prides himself on being your friend — even though you've really only interacted through class projects, and Art hardly has the courage to talk to you outside of class.

You're different from anybody Art or Patrick have wanted in the past. Stanford opened up a door to a whole new world for them — a world outside of rich white girls who spent their summers in the Hamptons or elite tennis camps. and you were the key holder. you were hands-down the most stunning girl they'd ever seen. For Art, it was the Marley twists that reached your butt (a staple hairstyle of yours when you weren't rotating from lace fronts to sew-ins to natural), the way your brown eyes glimmered when a ray of sun shone over you through the window.

For Patrick it was your lips, thick and glossy or perfectly painted with a brown lip combo — gawking at you in the cafeteria when he visits and watching you reapply your lip gloss after you eat might be his favorite pastime.

Once, Patrick literally groaned, throwing his head back with a hand on his forehead when you bent over to pick up your lip liner, then readjusted your jeans and did that little jump trying to fit your ass properly back in the pants. Art couldn't even call him out on it because it took everything in him to hold back a whimper.

Your skin was supple and a rich brown, soft like a pillow they wanted to sink into. everything about you was something to admire — your laugh, the certainty in your voice whenever you spoke, your graceful yet assertive demeanor. You knew who you were, and that was something lacking from all the Sarahs and Kaylors and Brittanys they had been with. And, satisfying their basest desires, was your stallion body. tall, thick, and fit.

"She's so pretty," Art blinked slowly, the two of them watching you from a distance in the library as you gathered with a group of friends, standing around a table and giggling softly.

"Her ass is so fat. I've never seen anything like that shit before," Patrick murmured, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were concerned— really he was just incredulous.

A beat as Art swallowed hard, clenching his jaw. Ignoring the way his pants grew tighter. Patrick doing the same.

"Yeah," he exhaled after a moment of silence and low-eyed ogling from the two of them.

It was weeks of that — just gawking at you and getting themselves worked up thinking about you. At that point, there was more sexual tension between Art and Patrick than either of the two lusting boys had managed to work up with you. Tashi found their fantasizing aggravating and berated them for not just going up to you and talking to you — secretly, Art and Patrick praised the fact that Tashi has a girlfriend, otherwise she'd be competition too.

Art practically fainted when he saw you in the hallway talking to Patrick— Patrick leaning against the wall with his hand just above his head, towering over you with the confidence of a sly dog. He could just make out the murmurs of your conversation, the warm ringing of your laugh, Patrick's flirtatious chuckling overlapping just a few seconds later. He was laying it on thick, and Art felt like he might go into cardiac arrest with how angry he was.

Art strode up to the two of you with determination, slowing down once he gets closer so he doesn't come off as defensive as he felt. He gave Patrick an icy, tight-lipped grin that made Patrick smirk ever-so-slightly, his eyes wandering to some spot just above Art's head.

"Pat," Art bleated. He turned to you, his eyes softening along with his brain and everything else in his body except his dick. He smiled gently, locking eyes with you. "YN. It's nice to see you. I'm Art, by the way."

You shook your head and chuckled, one of your braids drifting over your shoulder. You pushed it back, and Art and Patrick went numb at the simple maneuver. You bit down softly on your bottom lip, grinning bemusedly,

"I know who you are. We did like two chem projects together, don't you remember?"

"Yeah, remember?" Patrick echoed, glancing over smugly at Art, who was too enamored by you to side-eye Patrick in return.

"Yeah. Yeah of course I remember. You were the backbone of our projects," Art trailed off into a genuine laugh, one full of appreciation.

"Well, I am pre-med, so," a slight laugh bubbled up in your throat and it was so attractive and confident, Art couldn't help but grin at you dazedly.

"Smart girl," Patrick inserted himself, catching your eye as soon as you turned your head to him again.

You didn't miss the way he held eye contact, the way he was so comfortable giving you a name to hold on to, like it was something he was used to doing with you. There's some sort of intimacy to a nickname like that, suggesting something provocative yet impossible to name. You're well aware of the fact that they're both attracted to you — you couldn't possibly miss them staring at you even when you knew they thought they were being discreet.

Seeing them now, up close and personal, finally actually talking to you instead of checking you out and avoiding eye contact, you saw their strategies, their archetypes. Art, the charming and unassuming rabbit — assumed timid by most but smart and eventually crafty — and Patrick, the rakish, bold fox, unabashed in his cunning and willing to show out. Both types that you'd seen before, but not quite in this form. And both intrigued you deeply. You, the snake. Letting them have their glory in this game now, but plotting just how you would leer over them soon enough, evaluating your prey.

"Gotta be. I only get one chance," you replied to Patrick's comment.

You could tell he was used to having girls stuck, and you weren't that type. But with you, their eagerness and need to prove themselves was strong right away.

You could tell they were trying to figure out what to say. You figured they were used to girls giggling and blushing over them. Maybe they expected a thank you, complete with hair twirling and bashfulness, like you didn't already know you were smart, fine, and everything in between.

"Mkay," you hummed, smiling precociously up at them. "I'm gonna hit the library, got a bio exam next week. I'll see you both later?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you'll see us," Art assured you immediately, on top of Patrick drawling,

"We'll be on the lookout."

You chuckled, giving them one last look over your lashes before you turned around. You could feel their eyes on you as they left, tracking all the way down to your hips which swayed as you walked.

They watched you like that all the way out the double doors, in a trance. When the door finally closed, Art swiveled on his feet and jabbed Patrick in the shoulder, walking off dramatically. Patrick caught up to him quickly.

"What the fuck? What's that for?" he whined.

"What the hell man, you can't just talk to her," Art frowned.

Patrick paused, staring at Art like he was a middle schooler,

"I just did. Besides, it's not like you were talking to her anyway, I did us both a favor."

Art knew he was being petulant but he couldn't himself — he didn't mind admiring you with Patrick, but sharing you was a whole 'nother thing. He wasn't ready to admit that the thought turned him on, and the attraction was still fresh enough that he was possessive. Maybe the doors would open once he knew he could get you.

"Yeah, well I was gonna."

"Ha!" Patrick barked out a cold laugh. "Like that'd get you anywhere."

"Fuck does that mean?" Art scoffed, glaring at his best friend and lamenting the luscious mop of overgrown dark curls brushing against his forehead.

Patrick tapped the underbrim of Art's red hat, which Art quickly readjusted,

"Look at you. You're dressed like a skinny white cuck. You don't even know what to do with all that." Patrick was growing more and more defensive and loud by the minute. He shook his head and glared off into the distance like he was thinking of just how he'd handle "all that," then continued. "She wants a big dog."

Art actually laughed — he genuinely doubled over laughing, and Patrick marched along while Art was cackling a few feet behind. He caught up to Patrick, red in the face,

"And you're a big dog? You're a rich white Jew from Rochester, New York."

Patrick smirked, like he knew something Art didn't — but when does he not know everything before Art has even gotten a hint? Or at least, he pretends to know everything. Art wasn't sure if it was too late to come out from under Patrick's wing, it's all he knew.

"Exactly," Patrick responded quietly.

Art, miffed but trying not to show it, switched the trajectory of the conversation and shook his head. He offered the first reality check ever since this little crush had formed,

"Don't sound too sure of yourself. I don't think either of us are her type."

"C'mon Art, don't be racist. You think she only likes black guys?"

Art was ruffled— he retorted,

"I didn't say that!"

"Whatever, I got her Myspace. I'll give it to you so you can stalk her but don't actually follow her like a creep. You're welcome, dumbass. You can thank me for bringing you a step forward from jerking your tiny little dick while you think of her alone in your dorm room."

How the fuck did he get her Myspace?

| | |

Patrick was back again by next week, fooling around on the computer while Art laid back on his bed and bounced a tennis ball against the ceiling.

"Oh shit," Patrick muttered to himself, a toothpick wiggling in the corner of his mouth. Art perked up, sitting up on his elbows.

"What?"

"Come look," Patrick waved Art over.

On the computer screen was your Myspace, which you just updated few minutes ago.

[ YN ] Can't wait to hit up Nebula later tonight!

"What's Nebula?" Art asked, his voice quiet and curious as he squinted at the glowing screen.

Patrick wordlessly pulled up another tab and typed up Nebula. It was a club a few miles north of campus. It had no description but a bunch of pictures. It was different from what they were used to — frat parties consisting of fist bumping and neon necklaces, a sea of white crashed against the floor and someone shotgunning a can of Budweiser. Instead, they're looking at photos of a nightclub with flashy lights and graffiti decor, and not a single hint of white — at least, not in any of the pictures. But it looks busy, and as far as they can tell, it actually looks fun.

Patrick and Art scanned the page of images meticulously, it was like their brains were reconfiguring. After some time, they both speak at once:

"Should we go?"

"We're fucking going."

The boys spent the next few hours getting ready. Or at least, Art did. Patrick didn't have a change of clothes, so he was going as he was — untucked Ralph polo, khaki shorts and all. Art on the other hand, showered and rotated through multiple outfits. By his third shirt, Patrick was fatigued,

"What are you doing?"

Art held up a white t-shirt to the mirror and angled it against his body,

"I don't wanna show up looking like an asshole. Look at you, what are you wearing?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Patrick griped, though he did a double take at himself behind Art in the mirror.

"Did you not see how everyone was dressed in the pictures? We're gonna look like idiots if we show up like a bunch of tennis douchebags," Art retorted, finally deciding on a white shirt and ripped blue jeans.

"We are tennis douchebags," Patrick said to himself. "Got a pair of black jeans I can wear?"

Art smirked wordlessly, throwing a pair over to Patrick.

The club is packed, to say the least. But it's huge. The bouncer took a long, hard look at the two boys before graciously deciding to let them in. They did look painfully out of place — the club seemed not to have a white person in sight for miles. They were tokens here, not oblivious to the curious looks and outright glares. Chingy's Right Thurr was blasting from the club speakers, booming over the sound of Air Force 1s and chunky heels scuffling across the floor. Art and Patrick stood in the front, taking in the view of the dance floor like a pair of birds overlooking the sea from the shore.

"What if she's not even here?" Art muttered.

"She's here dude, trust me. No way she's staying in on a Friday night after exams and this is clearly the place to go," Patrick shouted over the music. The two silently scanned over the crowd, desperate to pick her out in a sea of people. Then, Patrick laid eyes on her. He jabbed Art's side, who immediately snapped his vision to focus on you, so far away on the dance floor, unaware of their presence.

You were in a tight-fitting short pink dress that hugged every inch of your body — it seemed like it was made for you. Your tits sat pretty and your ass jiggled with even the slightest move. Your brown skin glinted under the flashing lights, and reflections shimmered off of your golden bracelets. You were with a group of friends, laughing and rolling your body to the beat, hips swaying with the motion of water. Patrick and Art were absolutely stuck, staring at you with dry mouths.

"Fuck," Art mouthed, and Patrick found his lips pulled beneath his teeth.

You didn't have a care in the world. You weren't drunk, but you had a few drinks in you and the bass was thudding against your eardrums just right. And you knew you looked good. Everything felt right — but the last thing you expected to see when you turned your head was two white boys, especially not two white boys who you knew. They seemed to realize that they were caught once you made eye contact with them, squinting at first in confusion.

Then, you saw it, the lustful look in both of their eyes. Patrick was unabashedly checking you out — you were sure he was doing it before, but now it was like he wanted you to know. And Art had this look in his eyes, so deep and watchful that you could tell he was simply drinking you in. Arms tucked over his chest, his tongue swiping slowly over his lip.

You giggled, returning their gazes with a subtly flirtatious cock of your head, and a bemused grin. Patrick smiled and nodded, and Art cocked his head in unison with you. Like he was playing. And you liked this game. You turned to your friends for just a moment and quickly excused yourself, then turned back to face the two boys, glancing towards the bar.

You didn't wait for them, just started slowly sauntering over, knowing they would follow you.

Once you broke their gaze, they turned to each other, smirking. On the one hand, they knew they had an in. But they were challenging each other too, with a competitive spark in their eyes that said, "you wish."

They rushed over to the bar, practically skidding across the bar and even bumping into each other. They got there just seconds before you did, still catching their breaths by the time you got close enough. Before you could even open your mouth, both of them were panting. In unison, they spouted,

"Hey—"

"Hi."

"Can I buy you a drink?"

They glared at each other, and you laughed, shaking your head. They were practically brothers, the way they were so in sync with each other and seemed to bounce off of one another. It was fun analyzing their characters, and even more fun because they were trust fund babies without a care in the world, and you couldn't be any more different. But one thing was for certain — you could get anything from them.

"That's y'all's favorite question, isn't it?" you grinned up at them slowly, batting your lashes.

They both laughed weakly, not used to being called out so bluntly. They were so set on having you, but now that you were in front of them, it was clear you made the rules. The way you assessed them both silently, letting your eyes observe the both of them from head to toe, slowly but surely, they had no choice but to stand at your feet.

"How about this," you started, and they perked up like dogs, hanging on to your every word. "Whoever guesses my drink of choice can buy me a drink."

"Sex on the beach," Patrick blurted, mainly because he was thinking about sex.

"Vodka cran?" Art offered hesitantly.

You squint at them, shaking your head.

"Cognac, neat."

Patrick snorted, and you looked over at him with a curious grin. He explained himself,

"Sorry, it's just... that's dark liquor."

"Duh. I don't waste my money on watered down cocktails." A pause. "So...?"

They fought to get drinks, but ultimately, Art was the one who flagged the bartender down first. You told them that you should talk somewhere a bit more quiet, and led them to a couch beneath the stairs, where the music was slightly muffled. You knew that their eyes were on you as you were walking, you could tell by the way they went silent while behind you.

You sat between them on the couch, one leg over the other. Both their mouths went dry over the sight of your thigh pooling and expanding as you placed it on top of your other one. Your brown skin contrasted deliciously with the pink fabric of your dress.

You sipped your drink and leaned back just a bit against the couch. Basking in their intent eye contact.

"So," you smirked.

"So..." Patrick grinned at you, unafraid to show all his teeth.

You glance between the two of them,

"It's your first time here, isn't it?"

"Whaaat?" Patrick feigned offense, shaking his head and waving his hand. He sips his drink, leaning back just a bit to align his body more with yours. "Psshh, no, we come here all the time."

"Really?" you challenged him, and he just nodded silently with that fucking smirk on his face, his eyes boring into yours with an impish sparkle. "'Cuz I come here all the time, and I haven't seen you two before. Like, ever."

"Guess you weren't looking for us hard enough," in comes Art, quiet as ever but still so strikingly present — it's impossible to forget him, the way he sneaks up on you every time with some suggestive comment or smart remark.

You turned your head towards him now, your smile growing bigger by the minute, thoroughly enthralled by this delicious dialogue.

"Oh, I should be looking for you two?'' you raised your chin up, humored.

"Nah, but I mean... you might find something you like," Patrick replied, coolly as ever, never looking away from you even when you weren't looking at him. It was how you found yourself face to face with him when you turned your head away from Art.

"Yeah? And what's that?" you mastered your most innocent voice possible, rubbing your glossy lips together. Patrick's eyes lowered down to your lips, and he let them stay there for a while before he spoke again,

"You gonna let us find out what you like?"

No smirk this time, accompanied by unshaken eye contact. It got your heart jumping, but you played it cool, chuckling and sipping your drink,

"Y'all play too much."

"Who says we're playing?" Art interjected then, and you're met with a charming, slow-appearing smile.

“Messy. You usually have the same taste in girls?"

"I mean, yeah, we do," the boys glanced at each other and nodded good-naturedly as if assessing the question together before providing you with an answer. "But you're just... better," Art replied, and Patrick nodded.

"Better? Better how?"

"I mean... you're incredibly sexy," Patrick said as if it were self-explanatory.

"Yeah? Tell me more," you bared your teeth in a slick-mouthed smile, leaning your chin on your hand and blinking softly up at Patrick. You turned your head slowly when Art spoke.

"Your lips. They look soft," he licked his lips when you looked at him. It was like he was a completely different entity now, shrouded by the thick cloud of desire he had for you. His voice had dropped an octave lower and his lids seemed heavier. He took a sip of Cognac and leaned back just a tad.

"Got a pretty voice," you turned this time to Patrick, whose lips were turning up in a slow smile, his teeth glinting in the dark club.

"Beautiful eyes," now Art — you knew you had them right around your finger but they were proving to be more than you'd bargained for — you wondered how often they moved like this to a girl, together.

"Your body's absolutely insane," Patrick divulged.

"Personality takes the cake, too," Art chimes in.

By the time they'd finished, it felt like they were inches closer to you, encasing you in their body heat. And they had inched closer to you, the both of them cocking their head in your direction, studying your face. It all felt so practiced, yet natural. They knew just what they were doing, and that's why you didn't move a muscle. But you'd be lying if you said it didn't have an effect on you.

You didn't reply, you just sat back and slowly swallowed down the rest of your drink. All eyes were on you, the boys both leaning back against the couch and just admiring you. You set the glass down on the table in front of you and got up to stand, wiggling your dress down to readjust it.

"Let's dance."

That's how you found yourself sandwiched between Art and Patrick while a song by Miguel played. Your breaths, hot and smelling of liquor, floated against each other, bodies pressed into yours. Patrick was behind you with his hands on your waist, towering over you and looking down at you in awe. He kept it respectful, but you could feel him against your ass, poking through his ripped black jeans. Art was in front of you, your arms around his neck, just inches of space between all of you. The club was dark bar for a strobe light rotating across your faces periodically, so you could hardly see the desire in their eyes, but you could feel it. You swayed your hips to the rhythm of the song and let your head fall back against Patrick's shoulder, swaying your whole body now. Art was pressed into you, his face dipping into your neck. He nearly whimpered— you smelled like caramelized vanilla and a hint of coconut oil. He imagined you lathering your damp body in creams and oils after getting out of the shower, and had to fight an erection from forming directly against you. Meanwhile, Patrick was already half-hard.

All they felt was bliss — Patrick had more of a sense of certainty that the night would end up somewhat like this, but Art doubted they'd even be able to find you. You could sense the way they held back, waiting for you to shut it down or take it an inch further. You paused when you felt your cellphone vibrate in your purse. You pulled away gracefully from Art and Patrick, who stood there dumbly waiting for you to pull them back in. You grinned when you read the text from your friends, who knew of your whereabouts, telling you to pull up to Alicia's apartment for afters, and "bring your little white boys."

You let the boys usher you out of the club, Art with his hand on your waist trailing behind you, and Patrick taking your hand as he pushed through the crowd and out the door.

"You smell amazing," Art mentioned the minute the fresh air hit you, re-surging the scent that drove him near ballistic in the club.

You giggled at Art's sudden outburst, and the genuine admiration in his tone,

"Thank you, babe. Now, are y'all good to drive?"

| | |

Alicia's apartment was huge — her dad paid for everything, to say the least. The moment you walked in, Alicia, Nessa and Tiana crowded around you, squealing and ooh-ing and aah-ing over Patrick and Art.

"This your lil shit right here? Go head, then YN," Tiana stuck her tongue out raucously and you shook your head, laughing.

Before you knew it, you were pouring shots of Hennessy down each other's throats, playing a vicious game of Uno, and blasting Me & U by Cassie. Art and Patrick had some settling in to do at first, since they weren't used to being around mostly black girls — the most fun they knew how to have at parties was fist-bumping to dubstep. But they fit right in, and your friends had no trouble making them feel welcome. As the night went on, you lost some of that mysterious enigma, but it didn't make them want you any less.

Art nearly melted beneath you when you stood up above him and poured Ciroc down his throat, holding his chin up with your fresh French tips. Patrick was next, putting on a brave face, unwavering against the screeches and pointing from your friends. He made sure to keep eye contact with you, swallowing boisterously with an "ahh!" sound, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You grinned and took a swig yourself, then ran to your friends to dance with them, swaying your hips and shaking your ass in a way they hadn't seen just yet. It was like they weren't even there, it was just about you and your friends now.

"Fuck, man," Patrick blinked slow, standing beside Art just feet away from you.

Art ran his hands through his hair, in disbelief at the way your ass moved in your dress,

"I'm gonna be honest, Pat. I don't think either of us could handle that."

For the first time, Patrick nodded, wordlessly agreeing.

It didn't take long for your friends to disperse about the apartment, most of them heading out to the balcony to smoke. You decided to stay behind inside ("For your guests, right?" Nessa had snickered, smirking over at Art and Patrick).

"Are you bored to death yet? You're the only two dudes here," you sauntered over to the two boys, who were leaning against the kitchen counter. All three of you were just a bit more than tipsy, eyes bleared over and heat fanned against your cheeks, drifting about in that pleasantly warm dreamscape.

"Bored? You just baby birded both of us with Ciroc," Art guffawed, and you cocked your head to the side, looking up at him with those low, drunk eyes,

"Yeah, you want more?"

"I want whatever you have to give me," Art replied with quickness, simply entranced by your eyes and that sweet voice. You chuckled, shaking your head.

A smattering of shrieking sounded from outside on the balcony. You scoffed, swiping a joint that Alicia had rolled from off the kitchen table. You started walking down the hall, back faced to them as you said,

"They're so loud. Let's go somewhere quieter."

Art and Patrick both gave each other a glance— they weren't sure if the night would ever actually come to this, but still they didn't quite know what to expect. All they knew was that whether or not either of them could "pull" you, you were the one in charge. Your hips swung more freely from side to side as you walked loosened by the Henny and Ciroc concoctions of the night. Art and Patrick's eyes were like pendulums following your hips.

You turned into the guest bedroom, plopping down onto the bed.

"Close the door," you gestured to Art. Heart pounding, he closed it behind him.

Art and Patrick stood stupidly in front of you. You shook your head at them, laughing quietly,

"Are y'all gonna sit?"

They might as well have tripped over themselves zooming to sit next to you on the bed, one on either side of you. You had the whole world in your hands. It was silent bar for the muffled R&B music from outside. For boys who were so flirtatious, they were awfully quiet now. You shifted to place your legs underneath you, sitting on your knees, your dress riding up your thighs just so. If they looked behind you, they'd see your ass poking out a bit too.

"So. Who's idea was it, hmm?" you hummed. "I mean, you must've wanted to come find me. I'm impressed."

You lit the joint, pressing it to your lips.

"Saw your Myspace post. Thought we'd keep you company," Patrick admitted, coolly as ever, though you saw the bulge forming in his jeans, saw the way his eyes drifted down to your lips around the joint.

You tossed your head back to exhale, giggling up at the ceiling and covering your mouth with your hand.

"You thought you'd keep me company. Y'all are too good."

You passed the joint over to Art, who took a drag and exhaled while keeping it perched in the corner of his mouth, voice half-muffled as he continued,

"We just wanted to make sure you weren't lonely, that's all."

"Yeah," Patrick took the joint from Art, doing the same. "Since you don't have a boyfriend or anything."

This time, Patrick lifted the joint up to your lips for you. You leaned into it, slowly wrapping your lips around it and sucking for just a second longer than you usually would, never breaking eye contact while Patrick's smirk grew wider and wider with each passing second. You blew the smoke out and it fanned against his face.

"And how would you two know if I don't have a boyfriend?"

Art sniffed, humored, as you passed the joint to him. It was starting to hit now — a haze rose up just so slightly in the air. You relaxed into it, feeling emboldened.

"Don't think we'd be here if you did," Art shot back.

You snaked forward, taking the joint from Art's lips and putting it to your own. He let out a sharp breath at the casual dominance such an action exuded. Your face was just inches away from his— you didn't know if it was the weed, or how turned on you were after exercising the utmost self-control for the better part of the night, but you noticed that his eyes had such a gleaming strike of blue in them.

"Think you got me, is that it?" you questioned, so close to Art that if you inched any further, your nose would brush against his. He swallowed, unsure of whether he should be turned on or scared, but either way, his pants were getting tighter. Your voice was so tantalizingly quiet as if you were sharing a secret just for him and Patrick. You huffed out a humored breath. "I'm not gonna fuck you, you know."

The way you were looking at him begged to differ. You felt the strap of your dress slide down ever so gently over your left shoulder. Before you could push it up, Patrick's hand, strong and firm, was grazing against your shoulder, pushing your dress strap up. You let your gaze on Art linger for just a moment longer before you turned to Patrick, smirking. You handed him the joint, which had gone out. He placed it on the bed beside him. You were leaning in, an unmistakably seductive twinkle in your eyes as you got even closer to Patrick, murmuring under your breath,

"'M not gonna fuck you either."

“Not gonna fuck me?” Patrick smirked, looking from your hazey eyes to your lips. You pressed your lips into his, letting your eyes flutter closed as you hummed your response into his mouth,

“Mm-mm.”

A slight breath escaped Patrick, keeping his mouth open so you could slip your tongue against his. Patrick kissed you hard and slow, his hands immediately wrapping around your back as you lifted your leg over his lap and straddled him. You could feel how much he’d been wanting this by the way his tongue curved effortlessly against yours and his grip on your hips got stronger. He kissed the way he talked. Rough and hard, but with effortless ease, like he knew exactly what you liked. Maybe it was his confidence that made the kiss so good, his lips locked in perfectly with yours. You reached behind, pulling Art in as you simultaneously pushed Patrick down so his back was against the mattress. 

You pulled away from Patrick and in one fluid motion turned your head to kiss him, letting your hand wrap against his neck and run up through his hair. Patrick, who was watching from the pillow, groaned and let his head fall against the pillow. Art kissed you needily, but gentler than Patrick. He kissed you like he was parched and your lips were a fountain of water found in a barren land— like he needed to explore more. As you kissed Art, you felt Patrick’s hands kneading your ass, and you moaned — which made them both moan. It took everything in Patrick not to just lift your dress over your ass. But you must have been reading his mind because you wiggled your dress over your ass so it was finally exposed. 

“That’s it,” Patrick groaned in approval, his hands finding new purchase against your bare skin, squeezing your ass with a tender grip.

Your kiss with Art grew sloppier, spit threatening to spill out from the side of your mouth as Art pressed himself against you. You let your hand wander down to his black jeans and gripped the hard bulge that was poking out, running your hand up and down it. Patrick, not one to be left behind, took the liberty of lifting your dress a little higher so he could see the black, lacy panties you wore. He let out a low whistle, his firm on your hips grew firmer, keeping them in place as he ground his up into you, rolling up directly against your clit through your underwear. You gasped when you felt how big Patrick was, pulling away from Art to look down at the sight of Patrick’s hips snapping slowly into you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head gently to the side so Art could press his lips against your neck. 

Patrick chuckled, but he was unable to hold back the groan that lodged in his throat. He could feel your clit pulsing through your underwear. 

“Take it off, baby,” you gestured down to Art, who scrambled to take your dress off, throwing it carelessly to the side once it was over your head. Both the boys nearly busted on the spot, because instead of being greeted with a black, lacy bra, your tits simply tumbled out of your dress, perfectly plump and brown and sitting pretty. 

“Oh my god,” Patrick groaned at the sight of your tits above him. He sat up immediately, attaching his mouth immediately to your tits. Art, a whimpering mess by this point, followed quickly, his lips wrapping around your stiff, brown nipple. They both sucked on your tits lasciviously, reserving one for each of them. The lewd sounds of their tongues sucking your plush skin as their hands fondled and squeezed you filled the room. Art was gentle, shifting from reaching a hand underneath your tit and cupping you softly to circling a gentle finger around your nipple. Patrick was more direct, grabbing you with closed hands. 

If you weren’t so turned on, you would honestly giggle at the sight— these two boys who’d been fiending for you for so long, showing you just how long they’d been waiting for this very thing. It was a wonder — the school’s prestigious tennis players who attended every frat party and had enough money to be set for life (Patrick at least), reduced to a melting puddle beneath you. At your beck and call, your mercy, even as the grind of Patrick’s dick against your clit made you soak through the panties. 

You looked down at them with a cunning smile playing on your lips, cupping both their chins softly,

“You’ve been wanting this real bad, haven’t you?”

Two pairs of needy, blissed-out eyes looked up at you immediately, their heads nodding insistently as they moaned around your nipples. You chuckled, your laugh ringing like bells in their ears. You tasted so divine and they hadn’t even tasted you where it really counts. Art decides he wants to get a head start. You felt his hand, his fingers long and spindly, travel down your body, past your soft stomach and down your thigh, until it looped back up to the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the waistband of your panties, pulling at the stretchy fabric until he let it snap against your waist. 

He pulled away, his lips warm and wet against your ear as he whispered,

“Can I?” 

You bit down on your lip and nodded, gazing at him as he let his hand travel back down until it crept into your panties, never breaking eye contact even as he dipped two fingers against your soaked slit. You trembled at his touch and he smirked, cocking his head gently as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting you on his fingers.

“She tastes so good, Pat, you gotta try,” Art said, leaning down — Patrick, dazed, lifted his head and looked up at Art with glazed-over eyes.

You watched, rendered speechless for the first time that night as Art dipped his fingers back just slightly against you again, and placed them at Patrick’s wanting lips. Patrick sucked the taste of you off Art’s fingers like it was nothing, like he’d done it before and would do it a thousand times more. The sight of him, lifting his head up to meet Art’s fingers, made you stir above him. 

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Patrick practically moaned, his lips hovering at Art’s fingers. He wasn’t even looking at you, still holding Art’s gaze as he dipped his hand into your panties and prodded at your slit, the pad of his finger tapping against all the arousal that’s gathered there, making wet sounds like fat raindrops collecting in a puddle. “She’s so wet already, shit.” He held Art’s gaze for a moment longer before he turned to you. 

“Can we taste you?” Art asked, his voice soft and lilted. 

You lifted yourself off of Patrick’s lap and kneeled between the two of them, taking their shirts off one by one. Art went to take off his cap, You embraced Art in a kiss first, then Patrick, until it was lost on you which was which— it was all a blur, mouths sloppily entangled and meeting in the middle, kissing each other all at once and you were certain Art and Patrick’s lips met more than a few times. Somewhere in the middle, they had pushed you back against the mattress. You whined as their lips suctioned against your body, down down down until they stopped between your thighs.

You couldn’t see whose lips were on you first, but you were sure it was Patrick, the way he dove right in without hesitation and started sucking expertly at your clit. You cried out, your back arching slightly off the bed at the sudden jolt of pleasure from the contact. You saw Patrick’s tuft of black curls right in between your thighs, and Art’s golden-orange locks just beside him, placing chaste kisses on your inner thighs, his hand massaging the plush skin there too. 

Patrick moaned from in between your legs, sending vibrations through your core and up your chest. You relaxed into his touch, pushing his head in and burying your fingers in his curls. He made sure to drag his tongue along every inch of you, pointing it into your slit and thrusting it into you, and flattening his whole tongue against you as he gave kitten licks to your pussy.

His grecian nose poked deliciously against your clit and he used it to his advantage, bobbing his head up and down each time you moaned at the point of contact. He sucked your clit gently with his lips, toyed at your slit with his finger and glanced up at you to gauge your reaction. The moan that fell from your lips as you locked eyes with him from between your legs was almost pornographic, and enough for him to slide one thick finger inside of you. 

You were writhing above him and Art, moaning ever so softly. Your tits were splayed perfectly against your chest and your face was constantly contorted in the sweetest expressions. They’d both imagined you like this, mouth open and eyes rolling back into your head, trapped in bliss. Then another finger, fucking into you deep and slow as he continued lapping up all your arousal, all while Art kissed your thighs with increasing hunger, his once soft kisses becoming wet and crazed. 

“Fuck,” Patrick pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening wet with spit and your arousal. “Art, taste her pussy. Want you to feel what I did to her.”

Art whimpered and assumed position immediately. 

“Wait,” you said, shifting and turning yourself around so you were on your knees, your pussy pulsing right in front of Art’s face while Patrick pulled down his shorts and boxers, wrapping a hand around his shaft and starting to tug slowly, groaning under his breath. Meanwhile, Art’s eyebrows rose up so far he thought they’d get stuck there, his mouth dropping slightly at the sight of your pussy throbbing around nothing, your folds dripping with a mixture of your own arousal and Patrick’s spit. 

You placed your head on the pillow, craning your neck to look back at the two boys. You liked the juxtaposition that was happening — the two of them in full control of your pleasure, while you were granting them the only thing they’d been thinking of for weeks now.

“Oh fuck,” Art whispered to himself, and Patrick chuckled darkly, squeezing the base of his cock. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but their faces in this moment were seared in your mind permanently – Art’s gaze of pure amazement, and Patrick’s wicked smirk snaking across his entire face, glaring down at your pussy. It was enough to make a shiver run down your spine, how readily they consumed you — the feeling of being wanted wasn’t new to you, but with them, it was just… different.  

“Her pussy looks so pretty after it’s been ate, doesn’t it?” Patrick noted to Art, who nodded with a broken whimper before shoving his face into your pussy, his button nose dancing against your clit as he put his tongue to work. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, your head dropping down against the pillow. Art might have been gentler, but that did not mean worse by any means.

If anything, he was passionate, noting every slight movement and sound you made and following in your stead. His tongue lappd against your clit, pleasure climbing up your spine. The new angle had you struggling to keep your legs up, but Patrick was sure to keep you in check.

“This is what you wanted right?” he proclaimed, one hand on your thigh to hold you steady, the other still stroking his cock, a bit faster now. A guttural moan surged from your throat as you nodded weakly. “Yeah? So take it. Take Art’s tongue in your pussy, fuck.”

Patrick looked down, his mouth hanging open as he watched the way Art slurped away. He detached his lips only to slide a finger in, kissing you gently as he fucked his finger into you, slow and deep and relishing the way you stretched over his finger. 

“So fucking warm,” he muttered, talking to your pussy like you and him were the only two in the room. He slipped another finger inside you, which made you cry out, pussy throbbing around his fingers. “There you go, squeeze my fingers.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, delirious. Art was rutting against the bed now, chasing his high along with you, and Patrick’s hand was working overtime on his cock, spreaidng the precum leaking from his tip along the shaft. His hand reached up to smack your ass, groaning at the way it reveberated beneath his touch. 

“You’re so fucking hot, oh my god.”

Inadvertently, you started to catch the rhythm of Art’s fingers, throwing your hips back against his fingers and his face. The sight of your ass practically covering Art’s face was almost too much for Patrick to handle — he actually glanced away for a second, hoping he could hold off on his swift-approaching orgasm. 

“Yeah, fuck back onto my face, I want you to use me,” Art moaned, muffled by your thighs wrapped around his head. 

You weren’t sure when it all happened, you just knew that you were moaning both their names as you’re sent over the edge, Patrick and Art deftly following — Patrick in his hands, Art in his jeans, hips stuttering against the bed. You squeezed around Art's fingers as you dripped down onto the bed, soaking Art's tongue and chin. It took a while for all of you to gain some semblance of reality, pushing past the haze of pleasure and smoke and bitter alcohol that you were floating in. 

“Did you come in your jeans?” Patrick’s voice cut through the foggy silence, and Art slapped his chest. 

“Shut up, look what you did to the sheets.”

You were lying on your back, gazing up at the two boys with a sated grin, resting your hands on your stomach. 

“Aren’t you glad we found you?” Patrick teased. 

You didn’t have to answer, he already knew.

i think i’m gonna have a part two for this you guys have no idea how much i was debating whether or not they should fuck in this but i feel like reader is the type to make them wait…  plus it would've actually been a novel if i added that and i wanted to get this out cuz i don't wanna keep y'all waiting!! so when they fuck they'll fuck NYASTY.

[verystrxxwberry]

Hi!!! I didn't know you were writing scenarios about newgen :o. What are your thoughts on newgen so far and which route are you following? I'm still torn between Roy, Devon and Thomas.

I can't wait to see how the first kiss will be with the three of them, so I'd love to read your take on how do you think it would happen and how the routes would feel about it.

🫂❤️

MCL NEW GEN; first kiss headcanons!

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: sfw, fluff, routes x reader, long scenarios… (I got romantic) ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Yes, I finally dared to write for these people because I found myself enjoying a lot of the story as I played. I think it’s pretty cool, but the system of AP's and getting the gems is awful… And by now I am terribly obsessed with Thomas, I love him! 

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

DEVON

It wasn’t his intention to give you extra hours at the office, but somehow you were the only one he needed besides him at that moment. Your presence helped him to focus, it motivated him as he knew that anytime he shifted his head he’d be able to see you. After months working there, he showed proudness and respect to the way you developed your skills.

He was aware of the torture he made you go through. Maybe it wasn’t as pleasant for you as it was for him to spend time alone with you, that’s why he even invited you to a small cup of coffee so you could get some energy.

It was already 8 PM when he decided that you two should call it a day in the office and rest. As you picked up your stuff, he waited for you and apologized for making you work extra hours, and he will pay it as a plus in the salary, that’s for sure.

It was night already so he decided to stay with you until the bus came. You knew that since you started working in Devenementiel there was a growing tension whenever you find yourself sharing space with only your boss. He was the kind of boss everyone wanted to have: attentive, kind, that actually helps you to grow positively, he had a playful side that knew when to come out and light up anyone's mood. He was a great boss.

And it was even more great whenever he came close to you to help you, allowing you to feel his warm breath on your shoulder, or even when he took your hands gently in his to guide you when he was teaching you to do something. You knew deep inside that he was not really subtle with the way you called his interest.

You took courage to initiate this, asking playfully: “so… you are planning on giving me a plus, right?” Which he nodded in response, his hazel eyes focusing on you. “Alright, that’s a working payment. But what about giving me a personal plus? You know, a personal payment…”

For one second you thought you humiliated yourself as he seemed to get deep in thought, but right before you had time to get flustered, he released a melodic laugh as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Oh, how greedy, so you want more money?”

“No, I wasn’t talking about money…” You mutter timidly as he seemed to find your offer amusing. “Probably… I don’t know, going out for dinner together or something.”

His smirk never disappeared, only growing the more you spoke. He hummed, looking at his phone to check the date. “This week is difficult…” You saw Devon thinking one more time, his eyes falling once again in you. “But deal. I just hope you can forgive me for making you wait.” He saw the bus at the beginning of the street and he sighed. “Call me impatient, but today I will pay you differently.” 

You had no time to react when he cupped your chin and leaned down to press his lips against yours. It took you by surprise, so you didn’t have time to react or to kiss back. You’d feel him smile against your lips, knowing perfectly that he surprised you with that. And after a few seconds he separated. The bus was already reaching the stop where you both were.

“See you tomorrow. Rest well.” He spoke with his usual tone, his hand caressing your cheek before he separated and walked away towards his house. He went to his house with a proud smile on his face. And seeing your shy expression about it the next day would make him laugh quietly. He should spoil you like that more often.

ROY 

You decided to spend your day off in a calm way, spending your day resting at home and enjoying the peace of having no responsibilities other than breathing. But that peace got interrupted when your phone vibrated with a great spam of notifications- your great friend and colleague, Roy, was asking you to meet him on the beach to go for a walk.

He was truly happy when you agreed to meet him. Even if you were on your day off, he still had to work and he had a lot to rant about. He had always been very open about his feelings and thoughts, and it was funny to see him whine so much about Jason being a pain in the ass.

You walked through the streets, buying a drink and then going to the beach to sit on the sand and keep listening to him ranting and ranting. There was a point in which you chuckled, shaking your head “hey… you are in a meeting with me, could you forget about job for a whole hour?” Even if you requested it in a playful tone, he knew you were serious. He whined playfully, laying down in the sand, using his arms as a pillow.

“Ow, I thought you’d always listen to me…” He was being a dramatic queen, like most of the times. You know he was playing though. “Then rant at me about anything.” He told you as he closed his eyes, enjoying the soft breeze that caressed his stunning features. You knew that Roy meant it, and he is capable of listening to you as much as you need. He is the type of guy that likes to give what he receives.

He is silent as he listens to you, taking spontaneous sips from his drink and nodding at your words. The sun was setting and soon would be night, but that wasn’t a bother for any of you. 

You looked at him as you finished your ranting, seeing him so peaceful. He was definitely the sleeping beauty, but he wasn’t sleeping yet. The silence in between you both was comfortable, allowing the ocean waves crashing into the sand to be the only noise interrupting the peace- but it only gave more peace. He opened one of his eyes to check on you, a little smile drawing on his face when he saw you looking at him already.

“C’mere.” He spoke in such a low tone that it was almost like a whisper, extending one of his arms to invite you to lie down in his embrace. And how to reject that offer. The contrast of his warm body to the cold breeze that was around you was comforting. He pulled you close, letting your head rest on his chest. You could feel it raising and going down with each calm breath he took.

You didn’t even care about how the minutes passed, he kept himself entertained by playing with your hair. When he felt your pleasant sigh he reincorporated a little bit to look down at you: “Are you falling asleep on me?” He asked playfully. Yet you shook your head, your cheeks being slightly warm at how you found his dark eyes connecting with yours.

“Ah, you look adorable..” He whispered with a little smile. You saw his eyes shine with affection as he looked down at you, and that only motivated you to lean in slightly. He noticed your movement and cupped your cheek, moving your head slightly. Without thinking you two cut the distance that separated your lips, and he didn’t even wait to kiss back, allowing you to explore each others’ mouth. It was warm, gentle yet slow. His hands placed gently over your waist, holding you firmly against him.

No matter how much you want to make it soft, Roy is a tease and will end up adding his tongue into the kiss, the wetness tracing your bottom lip and making you squirm. He chuckles when he sees your nervous reaction in front of it. You'd separate a little for air, his lips only centimeters away from yours and whispering “Your lips are soft… could I try them again?”

If you don’t stop him, he won’t stop himself either. The only thing stopping him from devouring you would be the fact that you were in public, but he’s up to a making out session there.

AMANDA

You decided to join Amanda in work as she organized some papers for an upcoming party that a client asked your company to organize. The conversation between you both was casual, offering a brainstorm of great ideas which you complimented each other. 

She spoke about some experiences she had related to the subject of the party as she sketched randomly stuff in a paper. The way her pupils dilated every time she spoke to you was a detail you couldn’t forget about her, as well as the way her fluffy cheeks held that natural blush from her skin. Even though you realize that every time Amanda was alone with you, her cheeks were redder than usual.

The brainstorm was done and you both started to do small sketches of the design of the party, Amanda even offered to put some cozy music in the back so you both could work in peace and comfort.

Her voice was sweet as she hummed to the song. The scent of her perfume exposed her wealth, you could smell it even if the distance in between you wasn’t as close as you would have liked. You were across the table, looking at her and not even realizing that you were probably staring for too long.

Amanda was looking down at the papers, some strands of her hair not allowing you to see her face properly, but it just gave her a more attractive view of her. You decided to move your hand in direction to her face, placing one of her loosened stands right behind her ear. You noticed she got startled, but a timid smile appeared on her face as she looked up at you. 

It took her a few seconds to realize that she was also staring back at you, clearing her throat and nervously looking away. “Do you want to take a break?” she offered, her voice sounding low and sweet, not as demanding or confident as she usually was. You nodded and she added: “Then I will go buy some pastries for us.” 

There was no way she was going alone, so you decided immediately to stand up. “I will go with you” you spoke with a firm tone, and she nodded, organizing all the papers over the table and walking with you towards the bakery. 

As you waited in the queue to buy, she decided to hold your arm carefully, checking if you’d be comfortable with it. You allowed her, caressing her arm in an instinctive way. You noticed she was leaning to you to whisper something to your ear, but you also leaned towards her. 

Your lips didn’t meet, but you were so close that Amanda forgot how to breathe at that moment. She didn’t know what she was doing yet her body impulsed her to steal a small kiss from your lips. After it, she separated quickly and looked away, her skin as red as a tomato as she tried to calm down the way her heart would stop beating like crazy. That was something she was wishing to do for so long, yet she didn't think twice before doing it and that made her terribly embarrassed.

In case you didn’t have any topic to talk about, the walk back at the office would be filled of an awkward silence. She was still shy, drowned in her own thoughts. Your mind started wondering about how to make her come back to earth. You closed the door of the meeting room right behind your back, then you muttered “did you like it?”

“Like what?” She asked in a monotonous and low tone, still lost in her deep thoughts. 

“The kiss. Did you like the kiss?” You asked and observed her at the minimum detail, how her eyes seemed to look up at you once again, searching your gaze with a nervous expression. She slowly nodded her head and that made you feel those butterflies once again. This time you were the one taking initiative, holding her hand and pulling her closer so you could kiss her once again. She was tense at first, but she closed her eyes and kissed back, allowing herself to melt into that tender kiss, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you closer.

That seemed to light up her mood, and you could notice how she was more kind towards everyone. Maybe you should kiss her more often to see how adorable she can get to be after it.

THOMAS

It takes him too long to realize that you like him in that way, no matter all the hints you throw at him about your feelings. He is too focused on how he suddenly gets an intense adrenaline in his stomach when he is around you than how you act towards him. He doesn’t dare to make any step because he would consider it a loss of time in case he gets rejected. And in case he gets accepted he’d leave the scene with a stoic face, even if his hands are all sweaty from the anxiety.

He decided to ask you if you would like to go on a ride in his motorbike after work. And you gladly accepted to do so. You’ve been for a couple of months developing feelings with him, but you didn’t know if he even felt the same. But it was a fact that you both grew closer to each other as time passed.

He waited for you outside your house, checking his phone as he was resting against his motorbike. He was still wearing his helmet and he had another one held by his arm. When he saw you, he hid his phone and waited for you to approach. Usually he’d let you put the helmet yourself, but when he was in a good mood he was the one putting it on you. And Thomas was in a great mood today.

It was surprising how gentle he was with his acts no matter the coldness of his voice. He offered you his arm to help you get on the motorbike. “Hold on tight.” He patted his waist, inviting you to wrap your arms around it, and you didn’t even think twice to do it. 

He is good at riding the motorbike, being gentler and more careful as you were with him. Though he would increase the speed of it just to tease you, feeling your grip tighten around his waist as he kept a smirk under his helmet. The thought of your body pressed against him only made him feel even more adrenaline.

After a few minutes of the ride, he went to the upper part of the city, parking his motorbike and giving you the task of jumping down his motorbike because he found the struggle you had to reach the floor adorable. He removed his helmet and rested his elbows over the balcony.

That area allowed you to have a great view of the city and further. The streets filled with colorful lights made it seem alive, just as the windows of the buildings showing different lives as if it was a TV show. It was entertaining to see the city from there. And even if you had the chance to see all the city, filled of life, there was no absolute sound that interrupted the whisper of the wind.

“The view is beautiful…” You heard him whisper, and you nodded, agreeing with him. What you didn’t realize is that his eyes weren’t on the big landscape in front of you both: his light teal eyes were focused on you. He approached a little towards you, making you think that he was actually cold as he gripped tightly his own arms, which were crossed over the railing. 

You didn’t have the usual occasion to be as close as you were to him at that moment, your arms touching casually. And luckily he didn’t separate as he always used to do, you secretly appreciated it. “I must say… I’m glad I joined you tonight.” You whispered honestly, waiting for his answer as you looked up at his neutral expression. 

“I am glad you joined too.” He affirmed, a light smile appearing on his lips. The pinky color on his lips made his pale face look more alive, if not… you would’ve believed he was a corpse. They weren’t too thin but too thick either, they were just perfect. His eyes were shining but you couldn’t read his expression, he was just… sharing the moment with you. He was staring back at your lips as he saw how you did the same, but didn't say a word.

You were aware that he wouldn’t take the step to break the tension that was in between you right now. With an impulse of adrenaline, you grabbed him by the neck and made him lean down so he was at the perfect height for you to finally brush your lips together for the first time. He didn’t make a single move. He was paralyzed.

It was confusing, you didn’t know if he liked it, but when you separated you saw his cheeks completely red. He didn’t make a comment about it, simply clearing his throat and looking towards the city. 

He changed the subject, which made you confused and quite disappointed. He didn’t mention anything related to the kiss. You almost felt guilty for doing so- then the meeting reached its end and you were finally alone in your house. 

After some minutes overthinking you received a few messages from Thomas:

“Hey. The meeting was great. I just hope the next time you give me more time to react. I really wanted to kiss you properly. Can you do it again next time? Kiss me, I mean.”

JASON

You absolutely despised the cocky smile that was always on his terribly handsome face. You would rip his face if you could, because you also hated the fact you felt the temperature raise whenever you saw him.

His presence was notorious wherever he was. No matter if you didn’t see him, you could feel the air quite tense and that someone you didn’t specifically like was there. Well, you lied to yourself. You told yourself you hated him, that he was your enemy- but every time he looked at you with those deep blue eyes, with a confident personality, it sent you to your knees whenever it showed. After arguing with him in a competitive way, you simply waited for the next time you could see him again. 

Oh and don’t you think that was something you only hoped for. He also couldn’t wait to see you after any “unexpected” meeting, where the rivalry between your companies was notorious. You turned into his favorite victim to tease with his clear superiority, making mocking remarks just to see the cute frown that appeared in your face any time he became a pain in the ass. 

He loved that about you, he loved how expressive you were, yet how stubborn you were with your own feelings. Jason wasn’t dumb, he knew that even if you were frowning and trying to argue back with him, your face was warm from how flustered he made you. 

You finally saw his tall shape among the people. And you didn’t go unnoticed.  This time he won, as the main client for which you competed for preferred Goldreamz. And yes, the fancy decoration was incredibly stunning and all, but that was still a big hurtful step to your company.

He held an elegant glass of wine in his hand as he listened to one client. Jason had the habit of keeping eye contact with whoever he was talking to, but in that moment he found it more exciting to fix his gaze on you, his grin widening as he saw you looking back. 

You tried to focus on the conversation your coworkers were currently having, but the blue of his eyes was hypnotizing. Jason finished the conversation with that client and signed you with simply one finger and the movement of his head to follow him. You had to put an excuse to leave, saying you had to take the air. 

The quickened steps soon allowed you to meet him at the roof of the building. The music from the party was drowned by the closed doors behind you. He turned around and exhaled contentedly, “I suppose you can’t enjoy the fresh air of victory as I do, right?” That playful remark was annoying. 

As always, he had really mature ways to start a conversation, sarcastically speaking. You attacked him by that, for being so childish to compare both of your companies that way. He loved to see you release that anger, it was something that made him smile proudly.

Jason spent a few minutes listening to your rage rant, yet he didn’t take it personal. There was something within him that made him know that you simply spoke like that because of the competence, but he saw by the way you both looked at each other before that the hate could be simply a superficial and professional cover to your feelings.

He decided to be unprofessional. You didn’t have time to react when suddenly your breath was caught by his lips, which took yours in a fiery kiss, almost as if he had been impatient to wait longer. Your words were completely swallowed by his hungry lips, making sure it was passionate enough to not allow you to speak after it. One of his hands tangled in your hair as the other held you firmly by the small of your back. He separated reluctantly, his breath heavy, but not as much as yours. 

“Ah… the sweet taste of victory…” He purred. His eyes were so expressive that you could tell he would keep going with kissing you if you weren’t in a place where you had to keep your dignity. “And the perfect peace of silence…” he whispers, teasing you for getting quiet after he almost devoured you. 

His touch was like fire to your skin, and you quite missed it when he separated to go back to the party. You were too stunned to act yet. You truly needed to take some air after it this time.

Jason felt like he truly won that night, not only for keeping a good impression of his company, but also because he achieved to take a taste of your lips.

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[literatureloverx]

Eeeeh!!! Your writing is just! Too good! This should be your full time job. I think my brain has overloaded with request ideas. I'm sorry...I'll try and contain myself. But..if you want to please either of these...

Fyodor and bondage...please let's go there.

Fyodor general relationship headcanons (guys clearly yandere by nature..but how does that look for his darling.)

❤️

Thank you so much for the huge compliment, dear!♥️ I wish I could live off of this.

I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this. Please, please forgive me.♥️

I’d love to hear all your ideas and requests! I’m a slow writer, so it takes me some time to complete posts, but I’ll get to them eventually. Please don’t hesitate to share—though it may take a while, I’ll get there!♥️

I wrote bondage headcanons + a scenario. I’m not trying to be arrogant, but I think it might be some of my best work so far.

Mdni, yandere!Fyodor, wife!reader, sub!reader, dom!Fyodor, bondage, VERY detailed.

Note: You have a huge mirror on top of your canopy bed. Which means: you can see every single filthy thing he’s about to do to you.

The headcanons are under the first cut, the scenario is under the second cut.

Enjoy.♥️

Fyodor & Bondage

"You and me... your eyes wide open, wrists bound to the bed, and my hands marking every inch of your skin as mine."

Headcanons

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's obsession with control isn't simply a trait—it's a reflection of his very nature, an extension of the meticulous mind that crafts every move in his life like a grand game of chess.

In the bedroom, this need for control manifests in ways that blur the line between cruelty and devotion, creating a deeply intimate yet unsettling dynamic between you.

He doesn't tie you up just for the sake of it; every knot, every piece of silk that binds your wrists to the bedposts, is an act of art in itself.

He takes pleasure in the delicate balance between pain and pleasure, understanding how the tension in the bonds heightens your senses.

The way your chest rises and falls with each breath, constrained by the bindings, is a symphony to his ears—a rhythm he orchestrates with masterful precision.

Fyodor's control is not just physical; it's psychological, a deep-seated need to own not just your body but your mind.

He whispers in your ear as he works, his voice a soft, dangerous lullaby that wraps around you, lacing his words with a poison that makes you crave his touch even more.

He knows your thoughts before you do, anticipates your desires, and then dangles them just out of reach until you're nearly frantic with need.

To him, the act of binding you isn't about restraint; it's about possession.

Each time he ties you down, he's reminding you —and himself— that you are his to keep, his to protect, and his to break if he so wishes.

The marks he leaves on your skin are not just evidence of your encounters but symbols of his ownership—a canvas of bruises and bites that declare to the world that you belong to the Fyodor Dostoyevsky and no one else (though he would never allow you to flaunt them to anyone).

In these moments, as you lie there, every inch of you under his control, you understand something about him that no one else does.

He craves beauty, not just in the art he admires or the music he plays, but in the way he manipulates you, his perfect creation.

He takes you apart piece by piece, only to put you back together again, stronger, more bound to him than ever.

And then there's the mirror—his favorite tool of seduction and domination.

Positioned above your shared kingsize bed, it serves as both a reminder and a revelation.

Fyodor loves to make you watch yourself as he works, forcing you to witness the way your body responds to him.

The sight of you in the mirror, bound, gagged, vulnerable, with his hands marking your skin, is a reflection of his power over you.

He enjoys the way your eyes, those beautiful, expressive eyes he refuses to cover, reflect both your submission and your defiance, the internal battle he has mastered like a seasoned conductor.

Fyodor is not a man of brute force; his strength lies in subtlety, in the way he makes you crave the very bondage that holds you down.

It's in the way he can make a single touch linger on your skin like fire, the way he can make you beg for mercy with nothing more than a glance.

His pleasure comes not just from your surrender but from the knowledge that you choose to surrender to him, time and time again.

He has cultivated your dependence on him with a precision that rivals any strategist's plan, making sure that even in your freedom, you're never truly free.

And yet, in this dark dance of power and submission, there is an undeniable tenderness.

Fyodor cherishes you, his fragile, soft, perfect little wife.

Every time he binds you, it's not just about taking control—it's about giving you something as well.

The security of his dominance, the assurance that he knows exactly what you need, even when you don't.

He molds you, not out of cruelty, but out of love, a love so intense it manifests in ways others might find terrifying.

He knows every inch of your body, every weakness, every secret pleasure.

And he uses this knowledge to break you down, only to build you back up again, shaping you into the perfect reflection of his desires.

It's a process that's as intimate as it is intense, a bond that goes beyond mere physical connection.

In Fyodor's eyes, you are more than just his wife—you are his masterpiece, a living, breathing testament to his power, his control, and his love.

And as he watches you, bound and beautiful beneath him, he knows that this is where you belong—by his side, in his arms, forever under his control.

Scenario

Fyodor Dostoyevsky's mastery over you is a delicate art, a carefully crafted symphony where each note resonates with the tension of control and submission.

As Fyodor watches you from above, your body spread before him like an exquisite canvas, his eyes darken with a possessive intensity.

The mirror reflects every angle of your submission, every quiver of anticipation that runs through you. He revels in this moment, savoring the power he holds, not just over your body but your very soul.

He doesn't rush; every movement, every touch, is measured, as if he's composing a piece of music where you are the instrument, and your body, bound and trembling, plays the melody of his desires.

When he binds you, it's not simply to restrict your movement.

No, for Fyodor, the act of bondage is a ritual, a way to elevate your shared experience to something almost sacred.

The babypink silk ropes he uses are chosen with care, soft against your skin, yet firm enough to hold you in place.

The knots he ties are intricate, each one a reflection of his calculated mind, designed to allow just enough movement to keep you on edge, but never enough to break free.

The ropes bite into your flesh, not painfully, but just enough to remind you of your submission to him.

The tension in the ropes mirrors the tension in your body, a taut line that could snap at any moment, but never does, because Fyodor is in control, always.

Your legs are spread wide, ankles secured to the bedposts, leaving you open and vulnerable to him.

He takes his time, his gaze traveling over every inch of you, as if committing the sight to memory. There's something almost clinical about the way he studies you, but there is a dark hunger in his eyes that betrays the possessiveness underneath.

He moves with the grace of a predator, each action calculated, deliberate.

His hands glide down your sides, his touch light and teasing, sending shivers up your spine. He pauses at the curve of your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a mark, a small, cruel smile playing on his lips as he watches your reflection flinch at the sharpness.

It's a reminder—every bruise, every bite he leaves on your pale skin is a declaration of ownership, his signature on the masterpiece that is you.

He reaches up, tangling a hand in your hair, soft strands slipping through his fingers like silk. His grip tightens, and he pulls your head back, exposing your neck, your chest, as if offering them up for him to mark.

"So fragile," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his breath hot against your skin.

There's an odd mix of reverence and cruelty in his tone, as if he's marveling at how easily he could break you, yet relishing the fact that you trust him not to. Not entirely, at least.

Fyodor leans down, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your neck, before he bites down hard enough to draw a gasp from you. The sting is sharp, sending a rush of heat straight to your core, and you feel his smirk against your skin.

He pulls back to admire the red mark blooming on your neck, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

"Perfect," he says softly, and there's something almost affectionate in his voice, a rare glimpse of the man behind the mask that you know so, so well.

But the softness is fleeting. His hand leaves your hair, trailing down your body, fingers brushing over the marks he's left, over the ropes that hold you in place. He's in no rush, savoring every moment, every reaction he pulls from you.

You feel his hands on your thighs, cool fingers tracing the sensitive skin there, and you can't help the way your breath hitches in anticipation.

His fingers dance over your skin, teasing the sensitive spot there, before moving higher, where you're already wet and aching for him.

He's not even touching you where you need him most, but that's the point, isn't it?

Fyodor revels in your desperation, in the way you squirm under his gaze, every nerve in your body alight with need.

He leans down, his breath hot against your inner thigh, and you shiver at the proximity. But instead of giving you what you crave, he moves away, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"Patience, my love," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, the kind that sends a shiver down your spine.

Fyodor enjoys making you wait, dragging out the anticipation until it's nearly unbearable. He knows exactly what he's doing, knows that with every second he makes you wait, your desire for him only grows.

The mirror above you captures everything—the way your body arches off the bed, the way your lips part in a silent plea, the way your eyes, wide and desperate, lock onto his in the reflection. Fyodor makes sure you see it all, makes sure you understand the full extent of your submission.

You are his, bound and laid bare for his pleasure, and the sight of you like this, helpless and needy, fuels his own arousal.

He's still fully clothed, a stark contrast to your nakedness, and that only heightens the sense of power imbalance. He's in control, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

His hands move to your breasts, fingers tracing the curves, brushing over your nipples until they harden under his touch.

He takes one in his mouth, sucking gently at first, then biting down just hard enough to elicit a gasp from you. The pain mingles with pleasure, sending a jolt straight to your core, and you tug at the ropes instinctively, your body craving more.

But Fyodor isn't done teasing you yet. He lavishes attention on your other breast, leaving a trail of bruises in his wake, each mark a reminder of his possession.

When he finally, finally, moves lower, you're a trembling mess, your body practically vibrating with need.

Without warning, his fingers slide over your slick folds, parting them with ease, and he lets out a low hum of approval. Your body arches in response, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

"So wet for me, already, мышка?" he muses, his tone darkly amused.

His fingers dip inside you, curling just right, and you can't stop the moan that escapes your lips. He pumps them slowly, torturously slow, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to drive you mad.

"Look at yourself," he commands, and your eyes are drawn back to the mirror. The sight is overwhelming—your body laid bare, trembling under his touch, your face flushed with desire, and his reflection, calm, controlled, a stark contrast to your desperation.

He adds another finger, curling them inside you just so, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

You can feel yourself edging closer and closer to release, but just when you think he'll let you come, he pulls away, leaving you gasping, on the brink but not quite there.

Fyodor's laugh is low, dark, vibrating through you as he watches your frustration build.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you, suffocating in its intensity.

He watches you, taking in every twitch, every whimper, as you struggle against the bonds, desperate for more. But Fyodor isn't interested in your pleasure now, not entirely.

He's interested in your submission, in the way he can bring you to the edge again and again, only to pull you back, making you beg for him, for his touch, for his mercy.

And he does make you beg. He makes you plead with those beautiful eyes of yours, makes you promise anything, everything, if he'll just let you come.

But your dear husband is disciplined, and he takes his time, drawing out your torture until you're nearly sobbing with need. He loves this—the power he holds over you, the way he can make you lose yourself so completely in him.

It's intoxicating, a heady rush that he will never tire of.

When he finally decides you've had enough, he doesn't give you what you want immediately. He teases you with his length, sliding it against your entrance, rubbing it over your swollen clit, making you writhe beneath him.

"Keep your eyes open," he whispers, his voice a dark, velvety command that sends a thrill of both fear and excitement through you.

Fyodor has no need to raise his voice; the sheer authority laced in his words is enough to ensure your obedience.

"Look at me," he commands. Your eyes flutter open and snap to his, where you see the cold, calculating gleam, before shifting to the mirror.

He wants you to see yourself as he does—beautiful, vulnerable, utterly his.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising force as he lines himself up with you.

But before he pushes in, he pauses, "I want you to watch," he says, his voice low, commanding, brooking no argument. "Watch how I claim what is mine, моя любимая.”

You nod softly, almost pathetically, and watch as he pushes inside you, slow and deliberate, filling you inch by inch until he's seated deep within you.

He thrusts into you, hard and deep, and you can't hold back the cry that escapes your lips. The stretch, the fullness, is overwhelming, and Fyodor doesn't give you a moment to adjust. The sensation is overwhelming as well, and you cry out, your body straining against the bonds, desperate for more.

“The gag…looks so beautiful on you, love..”~

He pulls back only to slam into you again, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping for breath, your body straining against the ropes that bind you.

The mirror reflects it all—the way your body jerks with each thrust, the way your hands clench and unclench in their bindings, the way your eyes, wide and glassy with pleasure, never leave his.

He sets a slow, torturous pace, drawing out every thrust, making sure you feel every inch of him. The pleasure is almost too much, and yet not enough, and you can't help but whimper, begging him with your eyes to go faster, to let you come. But Fyodor is in no hurry.

He watches you, watches the way your face contorts with pleasure, the way your body responds to him, and he drinks it in, savoring the power he has over you.

Fyodor watches you, his gaze never wavering, taking in every detail, every expression, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice a harsh whisper as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"Taking me so well, so beautifully."

His praise is laced with possession, a dark undercurrent that only heightens your arousal. You can feel the tension building, the coil tightening in your belly, ready to snap at any moment.

Fyodor's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as he nears his own release. He shifts his angle slightly, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, driving you wild with pleasure.

You can feel yourself teetering on the brink, so close, so achingly close, and you can't help the way your body arches, seeking more, seeking him.

When he finally does let you come, it's with a rough, punishing thrust that sends you spiraling over the edge.

"Come for me," Fyodor orders, his voice rough with need, and it's all you need to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes through you, violent and overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure rips through you. The orgasm rips through you, powerful and all-consuming, and he doesn't stop, prolonging your pleasure until you're a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him, tears of sheer ecstasy slipping down your cheeks.

He follows soon after, his release shuddering through him, and he holds you close, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs soft, possessive words, claiming you all over again. He holds you there, his grip on your hips almost painful, burying himself deep inside you as he spills into you, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he does, grounding himself in the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still, the only sound the harsh breathing of the two of you, the only movement the slight tremors that still wrack your body.

Then, slowly, Fyodor pulls out, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he takes in the sight of you—utterly spent, bound, marked, and completely his.

He takes his time untying you, his touch surprisingly gentle as he massages your wrists, soothing the marks left by the ropes. He unties you with a tenderness that's almost jarring after the intensity of what you just shared.

He rubs soothing circles into your wrists, kisses the marks he's left on your skin, and pulls you into his arms, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheeks, as he murmurs words of praise and affection, a stark contrast to the roughness from before.

In the aftermath, as you lie there in his arms, completely exhausted, you feel a strange sense of contentment wash over you.

Fyodor has pushed you to your limits, taken you apart and put you back together, and in doing so, has only strengthened the bond between you.

You are his, in every sense of the word.

Fyodor may be a man who craves control, but he's not without care. He cherishes you, his fragile little wife, and in these moments, when you're sated and secure in his embrace, you understand the depths of his love for you.

You belong to him, body and soul, and as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you know that there's no place you'd rather be.

Fyodor has claimed you, bound you to him in every way that matters, and you wouldn't change a thing.

In his arms, in his control, you are exactly where you belong.

~

FYODOR’S MASTERLIST => HERE

TO MY OTHER WORKS => HERE

[tatiam-x]

Learn to please

Mikasa Ackerman x Female Reader

TW: lesbian sex, vaginal fingering, loss of virginity, teasing, oral sex, sex

I'm rewatching Shingeki no Kyojin and am obsessing with Mikasa so I'm writing religiously about her.

This fic turned out to be a lot softer than I thought considering my usual rough style of writing, but I thought this would be how it would play out in their universe.

“So you don’t know how to have sex?” you question in disbelief, but suppress the shock in your tone and reduce the impact of your words. Sure, you can understand that Mikasa hasn’t learned how to do such sinful actions while fighting the chaos of the world. So you decide that, with your own capabilities, this would be a way to make the world a little less cruel for her.

Her cheeks turn pink at your accusation, and she looks at the ground in shame. “...no.”

She says this quietly with hesitation, her hand scratching her arm in a nervous habit. You smile softly at her, padding towards her to fondly touch her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mikasa. It’s completely normal,” you reassure her, and she brings those wide, dark eyes to yours which makes your heart skip a beat.

“Do you want me to teach you?”

The question comes out of your mouth without a thought, and once you say it, you immediately cringe in regret; this could turn out bad. 

For a moment, she searches your eyes with wonder. Such innocent curiosity that glimmers in the night of her eyes, and for a second you feel tension between the two of you; you can tell it’s not a hostile or awkward tension.

“If… that’s okay with you,” she says softly, her eyes widening and you notice them become a shade or two darker. Brushing your observation off, you nod in agreement. 

You back away from her, looking behind you to make sure you’re at the foot of the bed. Seating yourself at the edge, you start to strip yourself. You figure it would make this whole teaching thing visually valuable. 

“W - what are you doing?” she exclaims, immediately turning around when you start to take off your bra. You chuckle in amusement, covering your mouth as she refuses to look at you. “Mikasa, it’s okay. I’m here to teach you, remember? This will make it easier.”

She stays silent for a moment, reluctantly turning around at your reassurance. As soon as she does, she looks down to your chest, and you try not to let yourself get flustered with how shameless it is. You feel yourself get unintentionally wet, and you have to remind yourself that she isn’t interested in you. 

Squeezing your thighs together, you slip off your panties, locking your eyes with her as she watches you slide them off your legs. You hear her exhale, and she meets your eyes with a visible blush.

Your attempts at trying to brush off her small signs of attraction are getting harder to defend, but you figure that she’s just curious, right?

“The most important purpose of this, in my opinion, is to get as much pleasure for yourself. No matter who it’s with.” You speak, ghosting your hands on your thighs in anticipation. You can already feel the ache between your thighs, pleading to be fucked. With this sentence, you want to remind her that she deserves as much enjoyment that she needs. She’s special, so she should have anything she desires.

She simply blinks at you, silently urging you to continue. “So, do you know the feeling between your thighs,” you pause, taking in a deep breath to not let yourself get aroused by her. “When you look or think about someone? It’s like a jolt of electricity and it starts to beat like your heart.”

Mikasa’s face turns a deep red, and you quirk an eyebrow in curiosity. “How… how did you know that?” Her blush is something to die for.

You take a moment, not wanting to reveal that she’s the one who gives you that feeling. “Because everyone has that feeling when they like someone.”

She stares at you as if she’s had some deep awakening. It’s silent for a moment, and you decide to break it by continuing. Spreading your thighs to let her observe you, you cringe at the sound of your labia peeling due to the wetness that gathered in your cunt. You feel relieved that she doesn’t recognize what that means. 

“You can relieve that feeling, if it feels sexual. Like you’re excited,” you explain, teasing your folds and exhaling deeply with your fingers this close to your aching cunt. You then realize that she might be too far away to even see what you’re doing. She seems frozen in place, her eyes focusing intensely on where your hands are. Her chest heaves noticeably, and you wonder if she’s scared.

“Come closer. It’s alright, I don’t mind you watching,” you smile at her, and she hesitates for a movement before walking towards you. You look up at her, and you blush at how she looms over you. Fuck, if only she knew how much you want her. 

She’s about a foot away from you, and she sits on her ankles so she’s at level with your pussy. You shiver, almost insecure with how full of a view she has of you in this position. You catch her staring at your exposed pussy, and when she realizes you’re looking at her, she looks away in embarrassment. 

You lean over to catch her chin in your fingers, gently guiding her to face you as you say, “I’m here to teach you, remember? This is for you, I’m okay with this.”

She briefly doesn’t meet your eyes, but then when she does, her eyes glint with something you don’t recognize. “Okay.”

Letting go of her chin, you return your hand between your thighs, focusing on where to put your fingers. “When you… touch yourself, you want to hit a spot that makes you feel good,” you state, sliding your fingers down to your slit. Your breathing gets shallow, but you try to control yourself as much as possible. Your hips roll into the bed, forcing yourself to make the movement minimal to not raise any alarm. With your hand almost on your clit, with the way she looks at your pussy so intensely, all of it makes you just want to lose yourself.

“You want to touch… h - here,” you gasp, biting your lip to suppress another sound as your fingers dive into your clit. You look down to see Mikasa looking at you with her mouth parted, her cheeks red and her hands clenching on her thighs. 

“Are you… okay?” she questions. Her breathing seems ragged, irregular as she says this.

You pump your fingers into yourself, barely able to form words as you say, “yeah… just feels good.” You let out a quiet whine, your hips fucking up into your hand as pleasure spreads throughout your body. You hear her breath hitch, and you realize you have to keep talking to her through this.

“You should move your fingers in and out of yourself,” you manage to breathe out, your fingers acting on your words. “Or you can just… rub that area.”

You refuse to look at her to avoid sending yourself over the edge; she’s the one you're thinking of as you touch yourself, after all. “And if you curl your fingers up…” you start to say, and when your fingers curl up into yourself, you let a moan slip out at the feeling as your fingers find your g-spot. “Fuck.”

You try to be subtle about it, but with how good your fingers feel in your dripping pussy, you can’t control yourself. 

“Feels good?” you hear her say, and you stop to look at her in the aroused state you're in. Her tone is almost smug, and your eyes widen as you realize she’s rubbing herself with her hand under her pants. Her cheeks are tinted pink, her teeth bite her lip, her breathing is labored, her eyes are dark, and her body involuntarily rocks into her hand. 

You moan at the sight, your fingers seemingly moving into yourself on their own. “Yeah,” you whine, feeling so fucked out by that pretty view of her. And then you stop yourself again when you realize that she’s touching herself to the sight of you.

“Mikasa…” you marvel at her, your eyes half-lidded with lust. 

“It feels good…” she whines, her eyes closing and soft moans elicit from that pretty mouth of hers. “You… you’re so good.”

You almost come undone when she says this, and you hear her gasp right after. The sound of her hand slapping her mouth breaks the shocked atmosphere between the two of you.

“S - sorry…” she murmurs, taking her hand out of her pants and looking shamefully at the ground. “I should probably go…”

You stare at her, shock preventing you from speaking. Did she just… touch herself to you?

“W - wait!” you call out to her as she stands up, and she looks at you questionably. Her eyes are brimmed with guilt, and she fidgets with her hands anxiously. “I’m sorry… it was selfish of me to bring my feelings for you into this.”

You confess hesitantly, but you don’t want her to feel guilty for something you caused. 

“You… have feelings for me?” she asks, her movements halting. 

“Yes… I’m sorry, Mikasa. You can leave now. I just wanted to ease a little of your pain.”

She falls silent. You have to choke down the lump in your throat that threatened to emerge, blinking away the blurriness in your eyes. Then she does something completely out of character, completely the opposite of your expectations: she laughs.

Your eyes widen at her, uneasy at her reaction.

“Just being with you eases my pain,” she expresses, moving towards you once more. “I have feelings for you, too. I just never said anything because… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Mikasa…” you gape at her, in complete awe. She has feelings for you. Mikasa Ackerman has feelings for you. “You won’t lose me. No matter what.” You declare it because it’s true. You declare it because you mean it; you want to dedicate your heart to her. 

She lets out what you depict to be a scoff of joy, and her teeth bare in a beautiful enrapturing smile. In this moment, you’re certain that you’re in the presence of an angel. What did you do to deserve such a perfect human being?

She stands right in front of you, leaning down to close her lips onto yours. You sigh contently into her kiss, reaching up to cup her jaw. It’s only when her hands settle on your bare waist that reminds you that you’re completely naked.

“Mm - Mikasa,” you moan into her lips, but you pull your lips away from her to speak. She’s panting, her eyes wild with lust. That look in her eye changes to concern, however, as you pull away.

“What is it? Do you want me to stop?” she asks, her eyelids fluttering in panic.

“No, no. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with this,” you look up at her, resisting the urge to pull her down on top of you and ruin her.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to teach me?” she smirks, tilting your chin up to her. You squirm, rubbing your thighs together in arousal.

“Yes…”

“Then teach me. Show me how to feel good,” she orders, and at her command, you pull her towards you into a heated kiss. Who knew she could be such a devil. You wrap your hands around her neck, pulling her down with you on the bed. She straddles your lap, quickly taking off her shirt. You stare at her lean torso in awe, groaning when you imagine tasting her with those abs in sight.

“Like what you see?” she teases, swiftly taking off her bra. She leaves at a complete loss for words, your eyes gluing to her chest. You’re tempted to reach up and fondle them, but you decide to wait for her to be completely naked.

A blush forms on ur face, muttering, “yeah,” in response. It’s an understatement, what she says, because you worship what you see. 

Your hips thrust up into her, the ache between your thighs reemerging; you want her to touch you, you want all of her and only her. She gasps when you do, her hands gripping your abdomen to stabilize herself. 

“Take off your pants,” you pant, wanting to feel her bare cunt against your body. You stop moving your hips to give her time to take them off. She unbuttons her pants, tantalizingly pulling them off her; though, it’s a struggle for her to take them off while she’s on her knees. You watch with eager eyes, eyeing her panties since it’s the last article of clothing left.

You can’t resist the urge to take them off for yourself, your hungry hands grabbing the waistband of her panties and curling your fingers in. You look up at her; she looks at you so desperately. You’ve never seen her like this, so vulnerable and lustful. It makes you feel so… powerful. 

You pull her panties towards you, releasing it to allow it to slap on her skin. She yelps, eyeing you with surprise. You grin, giggling at her reaction. 

She shakes her head at you, and then her eyes show a sudden playfulness. You raise an eyebrow, wondering what’s on her mind. “Try to get these off me.”

A simple request from her – no, a challenge – that reflects that playfulness in you. You smirk at her, gripping her waist as you sit her back down on your stomach. You figure she won’t let you touch anywhere near her panties, so you sit up to kiss her. She returns the kiss, making you swipe your tongue against her bottom lip.

She stiffens in your touch, the feeling of your tongue foreign to her. You don’t even need to tell her to open her mouth because her tongue eagerly meets your own, and you hear her moan softly at the contact. 

Taking advantage of her distraction, you flip her over so she’s on her back, keeping your mouth on hers. You can tell she’s slightly winded by the way her breath hitches. Her hands snake to wrap around your neck, pressing you down towards her. Your thighs are on either side of her, trapping her body between you.

You kiss down to her jaw, then to her neck, and a soft whine slips out of her when you do. 

“Feels good?” you rasp against her neck, and she yelps when you take her skin in between her teeth. You want her to remember this for a while.

“Y - yeah,” she whines, her breathing labored. 

You smile against her neck, giving gentle, passionate kisses down to her collarbone. You bite a spot above her collarbone, her hands gripping your hair tightly at the feeling.

Your kisses trail down to her breast, and you peek up at her to see her face twisted with pleasure, her eyes already watching you with such hunger.

You keep your eyes on her as your mouth latches onto her nipple, sucking her bud gently. 

“Oh,” she gasps, feeling her body jolt under you.

Your tongue swirls around her nipple, your other hand massaging her other breast.

“Feels good,” she moans, panting with the way you’re pleasing her.

You hum in response, enjoying the way she squirms under you. You give the same treatment to her other breast, doing the same thing with your tongue and soft whines come out of her.

Once you’re done, you go back up to kiss her lovingly, your heart bursting with happiness as she lets you take control of her.

Soft hands cup your jaw, a sigh falling from her lips into yours. You take her hands in yours, tenderly kissing them both before pinning them above her head with one hand.

You sit back and take your gaze over her exposed, vulnerable body, your bare cunt heating in arousal as it makes contact with her abdomen. “You’re beautiful.”

She is beautiful. So astonishingly beautiful. You’re the only one who can see her like this, completely under your control. Her face turns red, and her hands wriggle in your grip. 

You feel her hips roll up to you, and you whine at the feeling of her rubbing against your cunt. You start to rock your hips against her, exhaling in ecstasy that makes your head throw back and close your eyes at the contact. It’s cute that she’s mimicking what you do to her.

She breaks out of your hand to grab your waist, squeezing and pushing her hips harder up to you. 

“Mikasa,” you gasp, your hands bracing against her chest to stabilize yourself with the force of her movements.

“Feels good?” she grunts, smirking at you but in awe of you fucking yourself on her stomach.

“Yes,” you moan, your grip tightening on her breasts that you didn’t know you were grabbing. She moans at you, moving your hips faster into her.

You feel a familiar jolt in your cunt, the friction between your thighs taking control of you. It feels so good, she fucks you so good it leaves you a moaning mess. You’re gasping, completely driven insane by her momentum, of her moans that lead you higher and higher.

“Oh… Mikasa… k - keep going,” you whine, feeling your clit rub deliciously against her skin. You feel heat build in your core, your moans getting higher and louder as you chase your high. You arch your back as you’re completely engulfed in pleasure, her name endlessly eliciting from you.

“Mikasa, I’m… coming,” you cry out, and your high hits you so hard that your whole body jerks forward as waves of pleasure wash throughout your body, making loud, lewd moans come out. She stops once your body stills, and you feel your cream drip down to her stomach. You catch your breath, closing your eyes since you’re still dazed from your overwhelming orgasm.  

“What… what happened?” Mikasa voices, and you snap your focus back onto her, relaxing your grip on her chest and you wince with how your hands feel stiff. You look at her, but she doesn’t seem panicked or concerned; her eyes are dark with arousal, biting her lip at you with interest. You remember she probably hasn’t even had an orgasm before.

“Oh… right,” you say weakly, embarrassed with how confusing your orgasm might have looked. “That was an orgasm.”

When she raises an eyebrow at you to question again, you answer for her. “When, um… when you feel really good, good enough that you feel this pressure of heat build in you, it makes you reach your climax and you release. That’s what… coming means.”

You feel funny saying that to a grown woman.

She stares at you for a moment before bluntly saying, “make me do it.”

You blink at her, slightly surprised by her command. Eagerly, you sink down her body and tug down her panties, ignoring the uncomfortable sticky substance between your thighs. Once they’re off, you exhale at the picture of her naked body. She looks at you impatiently, and you can see arousal leaking from her pussy.

You snicker, feeling smug as you say, “you’re already wet.”

Puzzled, she tilts her head at you. Cute.

“When you’re sexually aroused, you get wet… or to say it scientifically, females typically release this lubrication to help with friction,” you explain, your heart warming at how wholesome this moment seems.

She nods her head in understanding. “Oh…”

Her face turns a deep red as if she just noticed that she’s wet because of you. You giggle at her, placing your hands on her inner thighs and gliding them up and down the length of her femur.

“So you want me to make you come?” you grin at her, bringing her back to her previous command.

“Yeah… I want to feel it,” she admits shyly, and you notice her hips rolling into the bed. Her cunt glistens, the thought of her taste making your mouth water. 

Before you give her what she wants, you want something from her first. “Beg for it.”

It’s most likely the first time that anyone’s ever requested such a thing, making her beg for something she wants. You smile in amusement as her eyebrows furrow at you, hardening her gaze in what you guess is a glare. 

You say nothing, waiting for her to comply. You want to hear Mikasa Ackerman, the strongest woman you know, to beg for you. For you and only you.

You continue to tease her, tracing around her inner thighs, going up to her hips, to her folds. You lean down and kiss her thighs, getting closer and closer to her cunt. She whines, her hands grabbing your hair to try to push you into her pussy, but you tense your head to prevent her from moving you. 

“Please…” she whimpers just barely above a whisper, and you perk up at her in surprise. You asked for it, but you didn’t actually believe that she would. 

“What was that?” you taunt, daring her to show you just how desperate she is.

She groans restlessly, attempting to roll her hips up to your face. “Please make me come…”

It comes out as a plea, this time it’s louder. It’s so hot coming out of Mikasa’s mouth, hot enough for your own cunt to beg for more. That’s enough for you to wrap your arms around her thighs, keeping them spread while you dip your head to her leaking cunt. 

“Fuck!” she cries out as you lick a long stripe along her slit, just barely grazing her clit. You moan at her taste, at her touch on your hair, at the sound of her whines. She makes you want to fuck her until she passes out.

You dig your tongue into her pussy to find her clit, and you lap deeply in her, slowly curling your tongue up and pulling out. She moans your name, gasping, whining, squirming at the way your tongue fucks her. It’s a beautiful sight, you think, that makes the world a beautiful place.

Her face twists with pleasure, her mouth open as whines and moans fall out, her abdomen tense and her back arches off the bed. Her chest pops out, nipples perked and her face is hot, the room is hot. 

You flick your tongue faster into her, making sure to sharply curl it to hit the roof of her clit. She tastes so good. You wish you could taste her like this for the rest of your life. 

“Oh, fuck,” she moans, her fingers tugging at your hair that makes a moan vibrate into her cunt. “It feels… so good.”

Your mouth sucks her clit, bringing one hand up to her pussy and sliding two fingers smoothly into her wet, sopping cunt. She screams your name, and you moan out to her in response, watching her body flex under you.

You pace quickens, your fingers curling up into her and wet noises sound from her pussy. It drives you insane.

Just by the curl of your fingers, you know you’ve hit the right spot when she cries, “Oh!”

Her walls tighten around you, feeling her contract. She’s close. You moan into her again, hearing her whines get higher in pitch. It’s like a song from an angel. 

“I - think I’m…”

With a loud, broken moan of your name, she comes, her head throwing back against the bed as her hips buck into your face, and you continue fucking her through her high and stop when she slows. 

Removing yourself from her, you sit up, the both of you catching your breath. Your chin is wet with her arousal, your tongue relishing the taste of her. You’ve never experienced something more beautiful, more perfect than this. 

You lean over to her, finding her eyes glazed on the ceiling as she recovers. You kiss her gently, cupping her jaw while stroking her cheek with your thumb. You run your thumb over the scar under her right eye, tracing it gently.

“How’d it feel?” you inquire as you break away from her, meeting her eyes dreamily.

“Breathtaking,” she gawks at you, reaching up to kiss you again.

You smile against her lips, chuckling lightly. “I’m glad you learned how to be pleased.”

She cups your jaw with her hands as she pulls away, revealing a genuine, blissful smile. 

“Thank you… I can’t thank you enough,” she flushes, wrapping her hands around your neck.

You say nothing, kissing her to silently say “you’re welcome.”

“Come on, we should get some sleep,” you roll to the side, bringing her chin to meet you in a kiss. 

“Turn over first. I want to hold you,” she murmurs against your lips. You blush, your heart melting at her. You comply, facing away from her. You feel her legs tangle with yours, her arm wrapping delicately around your waist. She kisses the back of your neck. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“Goodnight, Mikasa,” you whisper, intertwining your hand with hers at your waist.

“Goodnight, my beautiful girl.”

[fixfoxnox]

How about 141 boys with a S/O who used to date Makarov, but like before he started his career as a terrorist

Oooh I've always wanted to do one of these

141 With a S/O Who Used To Date Makarov

Pairings: 141 x Male Reader (btw guys this is my default but I will write fem reader if you request it!) (No use of Y/N)

Notes: You'll get a bit of background, but essentially we're using my headcanons for Makarov's backstory in this, so if you don't understand after reading you may want to take a moment to read that! Also wasn't sure if Alejandro and Farah were included in this cause I think they're 141 but also they may just be like temporary members for whenever needed so??? I left them out.

Warnings: Possessiveness, implied abuse/kidnapping

Price:

Silence hung around the room for several moments, everyone standing tense as the offending video stood paused on the last frame, clicking over itself. No one knew quite what to say or do and most of the members of the 141 were looking between their captain and one of their lieutenants. The entire team knew about their relationship.

"Everyone out," Price's voice was harsh and it only took a few moments for the room to fully clear out, Gaz and Soap practically tripping over one another in an attempt to escape the stifling tension that had filled the room. Ghost and Roach were at least a bit more subtle with their rush to leave.

There was a moment of silence when it was finally just the two of them. Price was staring hard but his boyfriend was doing his best to avoid his gaze. "So," Price started carefully, "Do you want to tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell," his boyfriend responded carefully, still avoiding his gaze. His eyes trailed back over toward the small screen, frozen on the face of a familiar figure. He looked much the same and yet so different from the boy that he'd followed into the military. It broke his heart in an odd way.

"You," Price took in a calming breath, pushing himself away from the table and turning away, "You can't lie about this. Tell me, please."

There was another moment of quiet between them. "I don't love him anymore," his boyfriend spoke quietly, "if that's what you're worried about."

Price wheeled around to face him, his eyes hard, "That's what you think I'm worried about?" He moved around the table to him in several quick strides. Despite the hard look on his face, his hands were soft as he tilted his face toward him, forcing their eyes to connect, "That isn't what this is about. I'm worried about you. I'm worried about what he might have done to you. I'm worried about what he might want to do to you."

He turned away, unable to hold Price's gaze any longer. The man was so intense with his affection and care at times. It could be overwhelming for him. It was hard for him to talk about these things. His past wasn't exactly his favorite thing to discuss. He preferred to leave his past where it was. Where it couldn't hurt him anymore.

After a moment, Price gave a deep sigh. "Listen," his voice was soft, "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just...I need you to know that I won't judge you. I need you to know that at the end of the day, all I want is to know that you're alright."

"Makarov," he started quietly, his eyes moving back to the image on the screen, "We were raised together." He spoke carefully trying not to wince at the memories of that cold orphanage where they spent their childhood. "We were close. He was...different then. Sweeter, not obsessed with power and revenge. When he went into Spetsnaz, I followed."

He shook his head at himself, remembering the two's secretive relationship, the shared kisses when they would see each other between work with their squads. He remembered the way that Makarov had started to change as well. The little things, little things that were probably only noticeable to him.

"When he was discharged, when I found out what he'd done, I broke things off." He looked to Price, "I swear that was it. I broke things off and I haven't seen him since. I don't know what he was talking about," he pointed at the little screen, "I promise I have no idea what he was talking about."

Price grabbed his hand tugging him closer to press them together. He leaned their foreheads together, just sharing the space between them for a moment before nodding, "I believe you." He pressed closer, wrapping his arms around his boyfriends waist. "I believe you. Just," he seemed to hesitate for a moment, his face twisting up with something akin to rage, "if he tries anything," his voice was much harsher, "I'll fucking hang him."

"He's a terrorist," he reminded Price with a low voice, "We're going to bring him in and, no matter what sort of feelings he thinks he still has for me, nothing is going to happen." He tugged Price closer to him, pressing their lips together for a moment in a sweet kiss.

With the sweet slide of their lips together, he could feel Price relaxing in his touch. His relationship with Makarov was long over and, no matter what his former lover wanted, he knew that Price never let the terrorist even get close. He knew that Price was all that he wanted.

Ghost

"Simon, this is ridiculous," he sighed, turning his head to watch his boyfriend pace across the floor of the safe house, "I will be fine."

"Makarov sent you roses," Ghost shot back lowly, still pacing around. His mask was still on, something rare for when it was just the two of them alone. It let his boyfriend know how serious he was, how on edge he was. "He knows you. He's managed to find something out about my personal life and now he's targeting you."

His boyfriend could feel guilt eating at his chest and he was quick to look away. He knew about Ghost's past, he knew what happened to his boyfriend's family. He knew how much this was stressing Ghost out. "It isn't because of you," he spoke quietly, shame tinting his words.

He'd never told Ghost, he'd never told anyone. Running away was the most he'd been able to do. When things got tough, when he realized what the man he loved had become, he'd taken the coward's way out. He'd run and hidden and changed who he was in an attempt to avoid his past. Now it was back to haunt him.

Ghost continued pacing, "We have to keep you somewhere safe. If Makarov gets his hands on you, he'll kill you."

"I don't think he wants to kill me. Simon, I need to-"

"I need to get you a gun," he muttered, "I'll show you how to use it. You shouldn't have to use it, you aren't meant to get mixed up in this." He tugged at the edge of his mask aggressively, as though he wanted to tear at the material.

"Simon," he tried again. He had to tell him, "Come sit down, there's something-"

"We'll need to move locations too. The more we move the harder it will be for Makarov to take you. We can-"

"Simon!" He didn't like to yell, but his boyfriend wouldn't listen. He was so lost in his mind, so lost in his stress that he needed something to bring him back. His sudden shout seemed to do the job.

Ghost stopped in his place, frozen with wide eyes as he looked at his boyfriend. His boyfriend gave him an apologetic smile before patting the spot on the couch next to him and slowly motioning for Ghost to join him. There was a moment of silence that passed before Ghost hesitantly moved, sitting close enough that their legs were pressed together.

He took a moment, taking in a deep calming breath before speaking, "Makarov isn't after me because he figured out who you are." He held a hand up, stopping Ghost from speaking. He took another moment, trying to work up the courage to say what he wanted to. "Makarov knows me because we were together, years ago."

There was a long pause. "When you say together?"

"We dated," he looked away from Ghost, feeling heat run through him. "Before he was a terrorist. When I found out what he'd done, that he was working with the ultranationalists, I broke things off and ran." Hesitantly, he reached out to take one of Ghost's hands in his own, "I'm sorry I never told you. But this, him sending me those flowers, coming after me, it isn't because of you." He looked away from Ghost's blank gaze, nerves and shame eating at him. He wasn't quite sure how the man would react, but he understood that this could be too much for the man that he loved. "I understand if you-"

He didn't get a chance to finish as he was tugged into his boyfriend's chest and wrapped up in his arms. He was quick to relax against Ghost's chest, burying his face in his warmth as a kiss was pressed against the top of his head. "Thank you for telling me," Ghost's voice was still serious. He pulled back and took his boyfriend's face in his hands, pulling him close. There was a hint of something new in his eyes, something low and possessive, "He won't lay a finger on you. I'll tear him apart before he can."

Gaz

"C'mon, say something," he begged, watching Gaz's face closely. His boyfriend was frozen in place, his expression frozen in shock and horror. He should have expected this. "Gaz, please."

Gaz still didn't speak, he just blinked at him, eyes wide. His boyfriend could feel anxiety clawing at his chest and creeping up his throat. He started to pace around, rubbing at his face as he waited for the verdict from the man that he loved. He should have expected this. He should have known that he couldn't just explain things and expect everything to be fine.

He had to explain though, he just had to. He couldn't tell Gaz and have it come up during a mission. He couldn't let Makarov use it against him. His team needed to know, Gaz needed to know. He'd thought it would be easiest to start with Gaz, but now he wasn't too sure. Maybe he should have started with Price instead.

"You," Gaz's voice was high, but his sudden words stopped his boyfriend in his tracks, "You used to date Makarov? The terrorist?"

"It was before he was a terrorist!" His boyfriend rushed to explain, his voice nervous. "Listen he was still Spetsnaz and he was so nice! He hadn't done anything then but I swear when he did start doing things and I found out I broke it off! I haven't seen him since!" He stepped closer to Gaz, trying to plead his case. "I promise that I'm not-"

Laughter interrupted his speech and he found himself frozen in his place. Gaz was laughing? His shoulders were shaking and one of his hands was covering his mouth, but his laughter and the amusement in his eyes was clear to see. It sent a flush over his skin. His boyfriend was laughing about this?

"I'm sorry," Gaz held a hand out to him, his laughter growing louder and louder, "I'm, oh my god, I'm sorry." He doubled over, his hands on his knees to support him as he continued laughing, "You used to date Makarov," the words seemed to only add to his amusement.

"Stop laughing!" He complained, his cheeks a bright red as Gaz nearly fell to the ground with the force of his laughter, "It isn't funny!" His words didn't stop his boyfriend's laughter and he could do nothing but stand with embarrassment running through him as Gaz continued laughing. "I expected you to be mad," he grumbled out after a few minutes as Gaz's laughter started to finally calm down.

"Would," Gaz wiped tears from his eyes, "Would you prefer me to be mad?"

"I guess not," his boyfriend looked away from him with a huff, "I would prefer it if you hadn't laughed at me though."

"Baby," Gaz had a grin on his face as he stepped forward and wrapped his boyfriend up in his arms, "I wasn't laughing at you I just," he paused for a moment, chuckling again, "You have to admit that it's funny."

"How is it funny?" He leaned his head against Gaz's chest with a grumpy pout.

"My boyfriend," Gaz started with a grin, "Who is so overly cautious about everyone that he interacts with, and he of all people ended up dating a terrorist. An ugly terrorist too, in my opinion."

"You're certainly a step up from him," his boyfriend couldn't help but grin and tuck himself closer to Gaz's chest.

"Only a step up?" Gaz complained. Still, he had a grin on his face as he pulled back to press their lips together. The kiss was sweet, as most of the kisses that he and Gaz shared were. After a moment they pulled back, just enough that Gaz could mutter, "You know we have to tell the team about this right?"

"I'm already dreading it," his boyfriend pulled him back into a kiss.

Soap

"Why didn't you tell me!" Soap followed close behind him, both of them storming into the locker room in quick strides. His boyfriend had a scowl on his face but was trying desperately to ignore the clawing guilt and anxiety in his chest.

"It wasn't important," he shot back, starting to strip himself of his gear with shakey hands. "It still isn't important."

"Not important?" Soap stopped next to him, tossing his bag on the bench next to his boyfriend's discarded tac vest. "If you don't consider that important, I hate to see what you do."

He gave a deep sigh before turning to face Soap, crossing his arms over his chest with an indignant huff. "What do you want me to say?" He met his boyfriend's eyes, wincing at the anger that was so clearly there.

"I want you to explain," Soap stepped closer to him, taking one of his hands in his own and tugging him closer. He avoided Soap's gaze, looking away from him as things grew too intense. When he was so close he could see the worry that was so clearly undercutting his boyfriend's anger. It was much easier to handle when he could only see the anger, it was so much more familiar.

Soap wasn't like his past relationships. Soap was sweeter and more excitable and he'd never let his anger or his rage paint him into something that he wasn't. It was much easier to separate himself though. To justify his desire to push away if Soap was angry.

"You already know everything," he muttered, allowing himself to be pulled even closer until he and Soap were chest to chest.

"I don't think I do," Soap spoke carefully, "All I know is that you used to be with him and that apparently that," he seemed to struggle for a moment to contain the venom he was feeling, "bastard wants you back."

His boyfriend shrugged hesitantly, shame creeping up his spine as he remembered the last time that he'd seen Makarov, when he'd realized that a man that he'd trusted all his life had been lying to him. "I was raised with him," he spoke carefully, "I trusted him, he broke that trust, so I ended things."

"Did you," Soap seemed to hesitate for a moment, "Did you know that he was..."

His boyfriend gave a humorless chuckle, "When he was discharged, he told me it was all false accusations. That they needed a fall guy and chose him. I believed him." He looked up at Soap with wide pleading eyes, "When I found out that he'd joined the ultranationalists, I knew that he'd lied to me. I swear to god that I broke things off then."

"So what Makarov said," Soap's hands began to slowly rub up and down his arms, trying to comfort him even when he was worried himself. "You're not going to-"

"I'd never join him." He spoke seriously, stepping closer to Soap to whisper softly, "I'd never betray you. I swear."

Soap gave a relieved sigh, like that was all that he needed to hear. "Thank fuck," his whisper was muffled toward the end as he pressed closer to his boyfriend, connecting their mouths in a passionate kiss. All he needed was the reassurance that his boyfriend was his.

Roach

"You are not doing this, absolutely not," Roach's voice was harsh and he was giving a hard glare to the general who'd suggested it.

"Roach-"

"No," Roach shook his head, "This is crazy. I am not letting you do this. Makarov would kill you!"

Laswell looked between Roach and his boyfriend for several moments, a knowing look on her face. "You haven't told him," she guessed, pulling a wince from him and a confused look from Roach.

"Told me what?" Roach looked between them carefully, "What's going on?"

"We'll step out," Laswell motioned for the general to follow her and, though he looked grumpy about it, he begrudgingly stood to follow her out of the room. "Take your time," she gave him a small, supporting smile before fully leaving the room.

Silence hung around them for several moments. He did his best to avoid Roach's gaze, his hands tightening in his clothes for support. "What was Laswell talking about?" Roach's voice was quiet.

The words hung in the air for a few moments, sitting between them heavily. Finally, he worked up the courage to respond, "They didn't choose me randomly."

Roach moved around the couch he'd been standing behind, taking a quick seat beside his boyfriend before taking his hands in his own. "What do I need to know," he asked quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles onto the back of his boyfriend's hands.

Even in this moment, even when he thought that his boyfriend was hiding something from him, he was trying to provide him with some form of comfort.

"Makarov and I...we were together. Years ago." He moved closer to Roach, looking up at him seriously as he continued, "When I found out that he was working with the untranationalists, I tried to break things off."

"Tried?" Roach spoke carefully, but his boyfriend could hear the deep concern in his voice.

"He'd changed too much at that point," his boyfriend looked away, avoiding his gaze, "He, uh, well, he refused to let me leave. Tried to lock me up. Soon as I got the chance I ran, came to the US Embassy for help. Laswell is the one who helped me dissappear."

Roach was silent for a long moment, just taking in the information he'd just been given. He hid his reaction well, keeping his face politely neutral. His boyfriend knew him well though, he could read all of the microexpressions that he tried to conceal. He could read the barely contained rage that Roach was trying to hide. "I'm sorry," he muttered after a moment, "I should have told you."

That seemed to bring Roach back into the moment and his hands clenched around his boyfriend's. "I'm not mad at you," he spoke quickly, already knowing where his boyfriend's mind had gone. He tugged himself closer, wrapping him up against his chest with loving strokes of his hands. "You aren't going undercover," he spoke quietly, "You aren't going near Makarov ever again. I'll never let him get anywhere close to you again."

[givemequeen]

little miss perfect: draco x slytherin!reader

request: draco malfoy x littlemissperfect slytherin!reader and the pair swears they hate each other but at a pureblood party the tension breaks and they end up making out? maybe like blaise or theo or daphne or pansy (their bffs) walk in on them and they’re just like ok at least i don’t need to listen to u guys argue anymkre a/n: i loved this request. might write another draco soon! warnings: sexual tension, make out sesh word count: 1306

Going to this party was a mistake.

You realised that the moment you walked in through the doors and saw Malfoy standing in the middle of the room with a drink in his hand and girls surrounding him. Yet, you still walked in and got yourself a drink and made your way to the dance floor to greet your friends who had dragged you here. Why? Who the fuck knows.

Malfoy was a pain in the ass and despite sharing 90% of your friends, you could not stand him. He was arrogant and snobby, always acting as though he was above everyone else. You never understood why the rest of the guys allowed him to act that way.

"That is just the way he is, honey." Pansy had laughed when you had asked her one day, before turning back to the mirror and putting on another layer of lipstick.

"He's been that way as long as I've known him and, trust me, I've known him for a long time." had been Theo and Blaise's response.

You, being part of a pureblood family, had also known Malfoy for a long time and though he had always acted this way, it seemed it had only gotten worse the older he got.

You were dancing with Pansy and the three drinks you had taken had made you forget Malfoy was even at the party. That is, until his cold drawl came from behind you.

"You call this dancing?" he smirked.

You spun around, skirt swishing in the wind, and scowled at him.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Isn't there some slut out there for you to snog?" you placed your hand on your hip, eyebrow raised in defiance.

"Why would I do that when I could be here, annoying you?" his smirked deepened, intensifying your urge to slap it off of his face. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm only joking."

"You're such a cunt, Malfoy, you know that?"

"Of course I do, how could I not if you keep reminding me every bloody minute?" he clenched his jaw.

"Piss off, I'm dancing with Pansy."

"First of all, you don't own the dance floor and, secondly, there's no way you actually consider what you were doing dancing. Did you fall off a broomstick?"

You huffed and pushed past him, sick of his bullshit.

You needed a break, some fresh air and maybe a fag to get him out of your system. He was always doing this, doing or saying something to get under your skin, to get you riled up.

You made your way out of the common room, away from the deafening music, and up towards the Entrance Hall. Being a Sixth Year had its perks, you were allowed to stay up until later.

As soon as you stepped outside, your regretted not bringing a coat with you. You quickly cast a warmth charm over yourself and though it helped, there was nothing like a good, thick coat to ward off the cold.

Even though you hadn't grabbed a coat, you had grabbed a fag. You placed it between your lips and lit it using your wand, relishing in the way the smoke brunt your lungs. You inhaled that heavenly first puff and closed your eyes as you slowly let the smoke escape your mouth.

You leaned against the castle wall, the stone cold against your bare back, and took another drag, forcing yourself to forget about that git, Malfoy.

"Running away from me, are you?"

Speak of the Devil.

Your eyes shot open and you immedieatly rolled your eyes. Standing in front of you was none other than Draco fucking Malfoy. He, too, had a fag in his mouth and was taking slow, dragged out puffs.

You were about to snap at him, call him names or something, when an idea popped into your mind. You took a long drag and pushed off of the wall.

"You're a bit obsessed with me, aren't you? Following me around and all…" As you spoke, you let the cigarette smoke lazily curl out.

You smiled as you saw the way Malfoy's cheek lit up. But that shocked expression quickly disappeared, immediately replaced by a mischievous grin.

"Lets say I am." he said, taking a step towards you. "So what? You're a fit bird, why wouldn't I be obsessed?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. What the fuck was he saying.

"What is it now, little miss perfect? Cat got your tongue?" he took another step towards you, forcing you to take a step back. You made contact with the stone wall and this time you weren't sure if it was the look in his eyes or the coldness of the stone that made you skin erupt with goosebumps.

"You fuck around, you find out." he was so close to you that you could smell his aftershave.

The atmosphere was charged with tension so thick you could feel it pressing against your skin.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" your fag was long forgotten on the lush grass. "Go away." but even you could tell how big of a lie that was.

He wrapped his fingers around your chin and forced you to look up at him. His grey eyes were penetrating and invasive, and you were sure he could read your mind, sure that he could see the ways you were imagining him on top of you.

"I don't think you want me to go away." he said, his tone made you shudder. His hair had fallen from its carefully constructed facade, now framing his gorgeous, sharp face.

The air between you crackled with a charged energy, and as he held your gaze captive, the unspoken tension between desire and restraint became palpable. You looked up at him, blinking like an idiot, your mouth half-opened, waiting for him to do something, anything.

Then, when you least expected it, he grabbed your face and kissed you, hard. You gasped against his cold lips and his hands went to your waist, pressing you against him and holding onto you like a lifeline. Your own hands flew to his hair, tugging at the strands.

You bit his lower lip in anger, how dare he kiss you so perfectly? But that just gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned as his tongue met yours, gladly giving in. His hand slipped up under your top, quickly gliding over to your left breast.

He squeezed your breast and you moaned, arching your back. His cock was hardening against your inner thigh and you shifted so he would be against where you needed him most. You rolled your hips forward, moaning his name as his thumb went over your hardened nipple-

"Holy fuck."

"Seriously, guys?"

"So, your entire feud was just a lie? You were just horny?"

You pushed Draco away, quickly pulling your shit down to cover yourself. Behind Draco stood Theo, Pansy and Blaise, all with disbelief written all over their faces.

Well, except Pansy, who had a knowing look. She had one hand on her hip and a perfect eyebrow raised in a perfect arch.

"I knew it. Theo, you owe me 20 galleons." she stuck her hand out, a smirk on her face.

"You bet on this?" Malfoy snapped, whirling around. "Can you lot just piss off?"

But he was complete mess and no one could take him seriously; his hair was completely dishevelled, lips red and raw, shirt untucked and crumpled.

No one said anything for a minute until Theo burst out laughing.

"Yeah, mate, we can tell you two are a bit busy." he laughed, his eyes sliding down to Draco's obvious erection.

You couldn't help but laughing as well.

"Well, at least we don't have to listen to you two arguing anymore." Blaise said.

[evermoresversion]

Heya gorgeous, thank you so much for writing for Nick, the fics are very much appreciated 🥰🥰🥰

I have a request…would you be able to write a piece where the reader is a member of a rival gang and their star racer. She and Nick have been at each other’s throats for as long as anyone can remember. But perhaps this is a front to hide something else…?

REMATCHES, NICK LEISTER.

A/N Hi darling, thank u so much for your request and for your words, I rlly appreciate them. <3

I want to clarify that I'm not very good at writing about racing but I did what I could. And I'm so sorry for the delay.

PAIRING Nick Leister x Reader

TW/TAGS Angst, love confessions (something like that)

SUMMARY You and Nick didn't like each other, or at least that's what you made people see.

NICK'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

"What's wrong, Nick? Are you finally going to resign yourself to the fact that you're never going to beat me?" you said mockingly, your car next to his, ready to start the race.

"Not in your wildest dreams, precious." he taunted back, winking at you and you rolled your eyes concentrating on the race.

Your hands clenched the steering wheel between your hands and your feet were ready to accelerate at any moment.

When the race started, you hit the throttle, staying in front.

You kept a steady pace, changing gears from time to time.

You looked in the rearview mirror at Nick's car approaching but you sped up even more, getting further away from him.

On Nick's side, he frowned as he watched your car in front of his, speeding up to try to catch up.

In the corner you slowed down a bit to be able to stay on the road, resulting in a perfect lap. And you sped up once more.

When he was next to you, managing to reach you, he looked at you with a proud smile but you smiled victorious.

Your thumb was in charge of pressing the nitro button, going at an incredibly fast speed, leaving him far behind.

When you reached the finish line, you smiled proud of yourself.

You parked, and got out of the car, surrounded by people congratulating you.

Your team came up to you to lift you up and cheer you on.

When Nick got there he walked towards you, you signaled to your friends to put you down.

They did that and when they saw who was coming they stayed behind you.

You gave him a proud smile and he came in front of you.

"Rematch. I dare you." You were a short distance away and while he was scowling you were smirking.

"Maybe next time." you answered without giving it importance, walking away from there.

"Don't leave me standing alone." he demanded walking behind you.

"Why are you so obsessed with me?" you asked looking at him.

"Obsessed? Not at all." He quickly denied, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Uh-huh, right, and all the races we've done just because you wanted revenge?" You raised one of your eyebrows and he snorted denying.

"I don't like lose."

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" you questioned, and he nodded confidently. "Well, that's a shame."

"What?"

"Go back the way you came, Leister." You warned still walking.

And he could only think about how much he loved and hated that you were just like him.

"No, what did you mean?" He grabbed your shoulder to turn you around, and you offered him a smile, looking him square in the eye.

"You're too blind." You took a couple of steps towards him. "Do you think if I wasn't interested in you I would have accepted all those races that I knew I would win?"

He licked his lips looking at yours.

"Kiss me already."

You didn't have to say it twice when his lips were already on yours, taking them with intensity and a lot of tension that was finally releasing. Tension of years and years in which both were "competing" to see who was better.

But really you were just flirting with each other in an untraditional way, but apparently it had worked. Or maybe both just attracted each other, just like magnets.

When you parted, your lips swollen, you looked at each other with a smile.

"I don't think I need to confess how I feel about you." he muttered with a smile and you shook your head, wrinkling your nose and a smile.

"No, you don't need to."

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2023.

[flutterbyoz]

5 OTPs and 1 ultimate OTP

Deciding on my ultimate OTP was the easy part, it was picking the 5 others that took some time. I've had many ships over the years, some I obsessed over more than others but these are what I decided on as my top 5.

John/Aeryn - Farscape

John and Aeryn were one of my very first ships, before I even really knew what shipping was. I discovered them back in the very early 2000s and quickly fell head over heels for them. For a wacky, crazy, sexy and wonderfully weird sci-fi show, Farscape told one of the best love stories I've ever seen. The chemistry, the natural build up, the tension and their whole journey's, individually and together makes these two one of the best ships ever.

Sometimes it seems shows can be reluctant to put their two leads together, even when they are clearly right for each other, because they think it won't be as interesting once they are romantically involved. However, Farscape proved that with good writing it can work exceptionally well and add to the story in such a positive way. They also stayed clear of some of the more cliched storytelling, not just when it came to John and Aeryn's romance but the series in general. Farscape gave us a truly memorable romance and after 4 seasons it was finished up in the most perfect way in a miniseries.

For over 2 decades, John and Aeryn were my ultimate OTP, even when I found new ships I always came back to them because they were written so amazingly well and got the happy ending that many of my other ships never did. They had drama, angst and they even both died on separate occasions but they won out and the mini series gave them the perfect happy ending. John and Aeryn will always hold a special place in my heart, they are an example of how love stories can be told right.

Hetty and Trevor - Ghosts US

Okay, this is a very new ship for me having only discovered them at the end of last year and I really couldn't help but fall for them. Hetty and Trevor are two people who really shouldn't work together at all but somehow they really do. Ridiculous, hilarious and adorable, these two just drew me in but what's a little different for me from my other ships is I'm still not sure whether I want them to be a true romantic couple or if I just want them to get back to where they were in season 2. Their hook ups were so wonderful and they play off each other so well that I just really need these two to get back together in some way. Ghosts US writers, please make it happen, these two have way too much potential and chemistry to be pushed aside. I need more H-Money in my life!

Jack and Sam - Stargate SG1

Jack and Sam were a ship who were never explicitly said to be together but there were many hints, in later seasons, that they were. Rules and regulations pretty much forbad a romantic relationship, though in many alternate realities they were together. The feelings between them were clear, showing themselves at various moments throughout the series, some more subtle than others but they were always present in some form. This is another pairing who had wonderful chemistry on and off screen and I love them both dearly. I know Jack and Sam are together and living happily ever after, I won't except anything else.

Xena and Gabrielle - Xena: Warrior Princess

Another ship where it was never explicitly said in the show they were together but was very much implied. These two are beautiful and had this show been made today, they most definitely would have been together. I've had a few F/F ships over the years, one which hurt me quite badly despite actually getting a happy ending and another which has yet to really set sail but Xena and Gabrielle, though I wish their ending was different, are still a ship I return to quite often and are still very dear to me.

Miranda and Gary - Miranda

Miranda and Gary are the most adorable ship and I love them to pieces. I'm not often a fan of ships in sitcoms, for some reason they don't seem to hit the right notes for me but there is something about these two and how their story was told that I just fell in love with. They really bring out the best in each other, they get each other on a level that few others do and they get their happy ending, which it seems isn't always a thing for many of my ships. Miranda is a show I can watch over and over, it's one of my comfort shows and always picks me up if I'm feeling down. They are just the most lovable and sweet ship and just make me so happy.

Honourable mentions:

Jo and Bill - Twister

Connie and Jacob - Casualty

Iain and Lily - Casualty

Jeff and Tamzin - Casualty

Lara and Patrick - Casualty

Jack and Rose - Titanic

Claire and Owen - Jurassic World trilogy

Ten and Rose - Doctor Who

Caitlyn and Vi - Arcane

Evan and Dylan - Primeval New World

Jack and Rose - Titanic

John and Maureen - Lost In Space

Now comes my ultimate OTP and it could only really be one couple

Rick and Michonne (Richonne) - The Walking Dead

Now, what can I say to describe these two beautiful people and their amazing love story?

Finding such a gorgeous love story in a show with zombies was never something I thought I'd do, I never thought it would be the kind of show I'd watch either but here we are. I discovered Richonne during a search on Tumblr for another ship I was into at the time, a ship which sadly did not end well, but I did find these two so something positive came out of it. I was drawn in by GIFS, their chemistry and connection shone through in just a few seconds and I was so intrigued to find out more about them. I watched TWD just for them and in all honesty they are the only reason I still keep up with the show.

Richonne have something I've not seen in any other ship I've had, though I'm not sure I can quite put my finger on what that is. Their chemistry is electric and so natural that they really make the love story believable and realistic. Andy and Dania's off screen friendship is also beautiful, the love, care and trust they have for each other is clear to see and I love watching their off screen interactions too. They really are friendship goals! Plus they are just as big Richonne shippers as us and it makes me love them even more.

Rick and Michonne are one of a kind, they are in a league of their own when it comes to chemistry and storytelling and are the only ship I've had that not only have their own show dedicated to their love story, but both actors are also co-creators, co-writers and executive producers. Not only that but Danai wrote an episode herself and I don't think I'm exaggerating here when I say it is one of the best episodes in the history of TWD. Though to me it is the best.

From the moment they met at the fence to the final scene in TOWL 1x06, Richonne have proved time and time again why they are not only the best couple on TWD but to me, the best couple to have ever graced my screen. They could give lessons on how a love story should be told, how longing, romance and deep unbreakable love should be portrayed on screen. They love each other so purely, so intensely and so completely that it's palpable and being the love of each others lives is not just assumed but proved and vocalised too.

This is a couple who are both warriors, they have had to resort to extreme measures to survive and to keep the people they love safe and while that is one side to them, they are also very soft, gentle and loving with each other. They are both willing to do anything to keep each other and their kids safe.

Also, they are both extremely attractive people who make an insanely good looking couple!

This is why Richonne is my ultimate OTP and I have a feeling they may just remain in that spot forever.

[hollow-lime-green]

hi!! just wondering if you have any stsg fic recs you’d be willing to share? i’m currently gobbling up 2sorcs like a gremlin and looking for something else to read between updates but i only really trust your opinions and characterizations which 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 anyways love ur work and hope you’re doing well!!

Ah! First of all, thank you <3 I do have some fics I really like! I shall rec them and give a little anxiety disclaimer at the end.

Fic Recs - Shorties

it would make a whole - by @diggingupgrave 8.8k, T, First Year, Pre-Relationship, Emotional H/C oh i love this fic so very much. this may have been one of the fics that really got me thinking about their characterization in the first place, tbh.

As You Wish - by @haha-funny-valentine 2.5k, T, Post-Star Plasma Arc, Emotional H/C wonderful characterization here and I am just such a sucker for H/C.

The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom - by @zombieheroine 16.3k, T, Prison Realm Gojo Character Study I took my skin off to check and I am shocked that this fic is not like, Doing Numbers. this fic is SO fucking creative and unique and I just. love. it. Definitely a big inspiration for FIYM. It's like Harrow the Ninth but for Gojo in the Prison Realm and like, oh my god so well done imo.

Longfic Recs with Caveats

and if you take my hand (series) - by @detta-pica 40k (Ongoing), T, Witch AU, Slow Burn Caveat: this is a WIP, and we're in the early part so very much Unresolved Romantic Tension. But I really like the worldbuilding in this and I'm excited to follow it as it keeps going, so big rec here if you like Plot and are down to follow some more ongoing fics. :)

coanda effect - by @bunniehoneys 250k, M, F1 AU, Slow Burn, Eating Disorders, Drugs, Bad Choices I am probably the last person in the world to read this fic so it feels silly to rec, but I'm doing it anyway because I'm a little obsessed. Caveat 1: also technically a WIP for another week or two

Caveat 2: TAGS check the tags. If you are at all sensitive to discussion of EDs, skip this fic, but I think it's done well and adds a lot to the characterization

Caveat 3: I am not caught up on this fic. it's one that I didn't let myself read for a while (see below) but F1 has a special place in my heart (my dad is into it, I used to live in a Gran Prix city, and I have watched WAY too much F1 Lets Play content).

I've been working really shitty hours for the past 48 hours (almost done) due to research that requires specific spans of real earth time. Because I don't have the focus to write right now, I've had the chance to read a little, and I've read about 75% of this gargantuan fic in windowless rooms on my phone, which has to say something about how much I love it lmao.

Disclaimer: I am a bad source of stsg fics because I actually don't read very many. If I read amazing fic then it tends to trigger the "you will never be as good as the old masters" part of the brain, although instead of real art like in the meme, my fic is putting gojo in a minecraft hoodie and making him do the gangnam style dance. Still.

I also get very unhealthy about metrics/numbers, which I mostly manage by using AO3 skins to block stats, but I still have some moments of weakness. So I try to avoid looking at stuff that I know might make me anxious/insecure about my own works and be unable to finish them (this has unfortunately happened to me before in the FE3H fandom, and that continues to weigh on me).

All that to say, there are some really big, nice, and well-loved fics by wonderful authors currently being updated, and I have read almost none of them. So this is absolutely not me saying I don't like their characterizations, I'm just kind of a hermit.

[suzy-queued]

DVD Commentary: Out of Nowhere

I got a request from @doshiart for behind-the-scenes commentary from Out of Nowhere. @shamelessdvdcommentary

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc) 86,511 words, 15-chapters. I wrote it between November 2022 - January 2024.

What was the initial inspiration for your story? I love murder ballads. I love graphic novels. So when I saw the book In the Pines at my local library, I snatched it up. This book takes old murder ballads and turns them into short stories, told in graphic format. My favorite one was "Where the Wild Roses Grow," based on the Nick Cave song.

I took some very loose elements from this story: A secluded property, a guy escaping from prison, a person protecting their family's gold. The prisoner wooing the gold protector in order to get close enough to rob them. Doesn't that scream Gallavich?

In the murder ballad there's, well, murder. The prisoner dies by the end. Boy, was I tempted to do that in my story.

What was your favorite scene to write? In each story, there's a scene that pops in my head early on that I base the whole setup around. It's the one that I'm gleefully waiting to write. For this story, it was the "cleaning guns" scene in chapter 7, when the sexual tension is high and Ian tantalizes Mickey as he works.

How did you come up with the title? My favorite murder ballad of all time is "El Paso" by Marty Robbins. There's a line in that song, "From out of nowhere, Felina has found me."

The placeholder title was "Gallagher Gold."

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice? I made this note early on: "Ian has a high PHYSICAL IQ. Mickey has a high VISUAL IQ." I used that to make character decisions throughout. Ian was good with his body and his posture. He was good at carrying things and balancing things, climbing and shooting. Mickey was obsessive about patterns and puzzles and solving challenges.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this? Chapter 13, oh my god. That's the hardest thing I've ever written. I was dreading it for months. It's a tense culmination of everything the story has been building to: love, betrayal, physical and emotional pain. The land gets torn up, and so does their relationship. I overcame it by taking lots of deep breaths and writing small chunks every day. I made sure that every sentence was exactly what I wanted to convey, without letting the prose take its own (lazier) path.

Favorite line in the story? “I’m not a fucking Viper.”

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story? When I started this story, I was sure that I didn't want to do another long multi-chap fic. I outlined it as a 5-chapter short, maybe 30,000 words. Then the "what if" whispers started happening, and it grew to a full 15-chapter outline. Most of the chapters had very short descriptions. One was just "fun and games on the land." One was just "This wasn’t supposed to happen, Gallagher."

Other possible settings included: an abandoned church with a small cemetery, and old hospital, a forgotten amusement park. I wrote "somewhere old-timey that would have land."

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterization, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc) The art! I had so much fun with it. I based the style off the old Penguin classics, like the Grapes of Wrath cover below. (Where they had the little penguin, I put the double-triangle Viper tattoo). I'm also showing my concept sketch for chapter 1 art.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share? I hand-wrote the story first, and it filled two notebooks:

Here are some research shots on the land and the equipment:

I took this photo while I was working. Welcome to the inside of my brain:

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add? I was itching to dramatize more of Ian and Mickey's lives while they were apart. It would have been fun to have 5-6 chapters of them learning to be whole humans again. But ultimately, that wouldn't serve the story. I did a time jump instead.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc? The story is set in Fox River Grove. This entirely happened because @lalazeewrites introduced me to the town in their comments on Estate of Blood and Trust. So the events of EOBAT and OON are taking place in neighboring towns!

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote? @mzshko helped me figure out the best way to structure chapters 2 & 3. She was patient enough to read an alternate fully-written version of both chapters and tell me which option worked best.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story? Three months into writing this story, I stopped and did a self-analysis because it wasn't igniting. I wrote, "Could it be that I haven't put enough of myself into it?" So I re-evaluated and dug deeper and made it as personal as I could.

I can't emphasize enough how interwoven details of my own life were in this story. I helped my dad install that big aluminum gate in the woods. I used 5-gallon jugs of water to brush my teeth and sponges to bathe. I washed clothes by hand and cooked on a propane stove. I hauled and stacked logs from fallen trees. I had a love/hate relationship with my family's land and ached to be back in civilization, like Ian. My dad used to tell me bedtime stories about escaped prisoners (Mickey?!) roaming the woods and killing small children.

This story is a love letter to my dad, who was dying the entire time I was writing. He passed away in May of 2024.

This is open to all writers! Pick your favorite story you’ve written or your most popular or the one you think deserves some more love! Or ask your followers to suggest their favorite fic of yours!