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[missmonsters2]

What We Are

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda discovers all the things that Vision's done for her that have made her heart flutter was your idea.

Warnings: it's not angst...but it's not not angst. Also not beta'd.

Note: why do i feel bad for stealing vision's thunder. Also I will fix my mistakes later when I mortifyingly see them later :-)

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

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It was a Tuesday when Wanda dropped by. 

The rain had been pouring relentlessly, and she had magicked herself to your front door, but even so, she was still soaked to the bone. It was late June and just a few minutes past dawn when you heard the hesitant knocks on your door. 

The years of working for Stark have made you paranoid as you check through the peephole carefully to see who could be at your door. Your heart constricts momentarily when your eyes land on familiar red hair and those melancholy green eyes. 

You opened the door, swallowing as you took her in. Drops of rain dripped down her cheek, almost like tears, as you let her in. 

"Wanda," you blinked, the questions building in your mouth but unsure which would come out first. You settled with, "let me get you a towel."

You opened the door wider to allow her to slip through wordlessly before shutting and locking it with a soft click. The rain outside pours relentlessly that it almost feels deafening in the silence. 

She stood in the hallway between the kitchen and your living room. Wanda looked around the quaint home you've built for yourself and felt even more lost. 

You returned with a dark navy towel, sighing as you sling it over her wet head, gently drying her hair. "What's the point of using your magic to get here if you're going to get soaked outside anyway?"

Wanda didn't say anything, just allowing herself to be under your care. 

This is familiar. 

It was a time before Vision and just a little after when Wanda began to see him too. Then, it was Vision's job to take care of Wanda, and all of it went away—you went away. 

"You should take a hot shower," you told her. 

"I don't really catch colds anymore," Wanda mumbles softly. 

"Lucky you, but you're still dripping on my floor and your nose is all cold and red. I can't imagine the rest of you is toasty warm," you smirked at her, and Wanda wanted to tell you that the tip of her ears was hot, but then she'd have to admit she was blushing. 

You guided her upstairs to the bathroom, gave her a towel and a set of comfortable clothing, and told her to use anything she felt like using. Once she finished, she could meet you downstairs, where you'd be making breakfast. 

Before you left, Wanda's quiet voice stopped you. "Thank you." Her voice is hoarse like she's about to cry. But it was sincere, and you gave her a light-hearted smile to put her at ease. 

"It's good to see you, Wanda."

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Wanda's skin feels warm and soft, the bath doing her wonders. She hoped you hadn't been waiting too long, but Wanda couldn't resist taking a soak first. She wiped the bathroom mirror of the fog and looked at her reflection. The bath helped return some color to her skin, but she still looked tired with her dark circles.  

Wanda only towel-dried her hair just enough to ensure it wouldn't drip on your floor. She felt only a little embarrassed to be given clean underwear by you but not a bra. The clothes you give her are soft, comforting, and smell like clean linens and leaves. 

This is crazy, Wanda thought. 

She hadn't seen you in months, and prior to that, it was always sporadic and brief. 

Wanda hadn't known what compelled her to show up at your door, but she knew much of it was due to loneliness. 

Everyone was gone.

But Wanda had hardly slept and hated how Scotland looked suddenly and decided that Portland would be better—Portland—where you've been living for years. 

The smell of bread, honey, and mushroom soup filled the air when she left the bathroom. Her stomach rumbled unabashedly, and she was glad you couldn't hear it. As she entered the kitchen, she found you chopping dill and parsley. 

"Hey," you looked up at her, smiling as she fidgeted with the ends of her sleeve. "Have a nice bath?"

Wanda nodded, giving you an awkward jilt of her lips meant to be a smile. "Thanks. Did you need help with anything?"

You shook your head. "Should be finished any moment now. I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be with it being so early but I thought something warm would be nice. Why don't you take a seat? I left out some bread, butter, and honey for you."

Wanda felt something crawl at the back of her throat as she sat. It was such a traditional breakfast, and it reminded her how Vision once tried to make paprikash for her. 

"I'm sorry," Wanda said suddenly. "For just showing up here."

You were silent. The sound of your chopping paused momentarily before it resumed again. "It's fine," you told her. "I mean, I wish you'd call in case I wasn't home. It would've been awful for you to stand out there alone."

But Wanda didn't know how to explain that your unused phone number was more daunting than just showing up. She didn't know how to explain anything. 

"Are you not often home?" Wanda asked instead.

You hummed. "Not often, but occasionally I do consulting work for some non-profit companies. It gets boring being retired sometimes."

Wanda nodded. 

It was lonely being retired alone. She had looked around your house and found no pictures or indications that you might've been seeing anybody. It brought forth something strange that she didn't know how to identify, so she placed it aside to be forgotten. 

It was quiet again, and Wanda felt restless. There were just so many feelings inside that she couldn't sort them. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream. She was relieved. She was anxious. She was a mess.

"Breathe, Wanda."

The words were unexpected. She sharply looked up to find you not even looking at her as you squeezed lemon juice into the pot. 

Taking a deep breath and releasing it quietly, Wanda was pretty sure she just wanted to cry now. 

"I'm sorry," Wanda repeated. She didn't know what else she could say. "I know it's been a while since we've last seen each other—spoke to each other. And now I'm here, and I've shown up unannounced and taken a bath, and now I'm wearing your clothes—I must seem crazy to you."

You just started to laugh, coughing lightly to cover it up when she gave you a look. "You don't have to explain anything to me," you told her, stirring the pot before grabbing some plates. "I know it's been hard."

There was a pause as if you were hesitating to say it before you decided to. "You miss Vision."

The words instantly hit the back of Wanda's throat and made her eyes water. "Yes," she could barely get a single word out.

"I know," you told her softly as you came over with a bowl of mushroom soup that looked amazing, but all she could smell was her own salty tears. 

Wanda couldn't hold it in then as she placed her elbows on the table, her face in her hands as her shoulders wrack. "I can't believe they're all gone. I keep waking up and expecting to see him. I feel like I can't breathe. It's not fair. It's not fair."

You rubbed her back, and she leaned into you, the familiar feeling of it all like it was just yesterday she was at the compound, alone and confused after losing Pietro. 

Wanda didn't even know what you did for Stark, but you were always around. You showed her to her room, gave her Tony's stream services passwords, and gave her a list of all the shows and movies she was to catch up on. 

Wanda wondered where all of that went, and she could only vaguely remember ending when Vision was beginning. But Vision was different. He had said something so profound that it had given her the courage to keep moving on. 

"I know," you told her, brushing your fingers through her soft, damp hair. "You have a lot of love to give and nowhere for it to go. It's just what grief is, Wanda. And if you're grieving, then you're persevering."

Wanda stiffened in your arms. 

It was so familiar. It was just a rewrite of words she's heard before—words she had never told anyone else. 

"Did Vision tell you that?" Wanda thought wryly as she straightened herself to look at you.

You looked momentarily confused before guilty and awkward. You let her go, but Wanda hung on. 

"Did he tell you?" Wanda pressed on. "Those words—did he tell you that they were the biggest reason I could keep going?"

Wanda looked so angry. The idea of being betrayed by someone she loved sharing something so private had you sighing. 

"No," You reassure her. "Vision didn't tell me."

"Then why—"

"I told Vision that." You cut in, the words leaving your mouth in a tumbled mess that was awkward and clearly made you uncomfortable. 

Wanda sat there with mild shock on her face.

"You...?"

You rubbed at your brow, taking in a tired breath. "Vision was very interested in you, and he came to ask me why you were silently holed up in your room. He knew what grieving was, but he didn't understand it like we do. Not yet, anyway," you muttered.

Wanda looked at you. You looked tense and reluctant to share any of this information, and she didn't understand why.

"I told him because you were grieving, but you also still had love to give. I told him he doesn't understand yet because he's always been alone and is lucky to have never lost anyone. You can't grieve what you've never lost," you had a distant look in your eye, and Wanda wondered if you were reliving this conversation with him.

"I told Vision that you were going to be okay, though," you shook your head as if brushing the memory away. "Grief was just love that had nowhere to go; it is persevering through loss." 

The words rock Wanda much harder than they did years ago. Maybe because the truth behind the words that had given her way when she was lost was actually from you. 

You, who let her show up at your door unannounced. You, who would always let her show up at your door unannounced. 

You have always given her a way to remain still, a way to return, and a way to move forward. 

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Wanda's voice cracked.

It cracked because perhaps before Vision, she thought there might've been you. It never came close to anything, but Wanda still felt it. And that's why she showed up at your door on a Tuesday in late June just a few minutes past dawn. 

You shrugged. "You seemed interested in Vision too. Curious, at the very least. We...I never really knew what we were. Friends, I think, at that time. Just barely, though."

Wanda remained quiet. The mushroom soup was going to go cold soon, but you didn't seem to mind as you tore a part of a piece of bread into uneaten chunks. 

You seemed thoughtful. "I used to think we were just a case of 'almost'. Almost friends. Almost teammates. Almost something and almost nothing." You turned to her and gave her an unsure smile. "But now you're here on a Tuesday when I had been considering an hour before you arrived that even almost is gone."

Wanda replayed the words in her head and felt the unease she was experiencing the last few months slip away. She's still grieving, but just as you said, it was just her love having no place to go. 

But...

Wanda looked at you as she took hold of the spoon and scooped some of the soup up. She's sure in time, her love will have a place to go again. 

"Did you tell Vision anything else?"

You smiled at her as you also began to eat. 

"I told him you'd appreciate paprikash. I can't take responsibility for him following my instructions wrong, though."

[reverieblondie]

Neighbors

Chapter 2: Heroic Spiders

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Burglary and knife being held to readers throat.

Summary: First day at work and your trying to keep a positive mindset despite your irritating neighbor messing with you. Whatever you just have to ignore it and keep going!

A/N: Sorry I've been behind on posting, I got sick with the flu for a week and that has made me behind. But I have four fics in the works currently! I am enjoying writing this series its a good pallet cleanser and has been helping me get all my cheesy rivalry romance ideas out. Hope your enjoying it! If you have a request please drop it in my inbox! I love getting ideas and interacting with all of you! If you want to be tagged for this series or anything else please leave a comment asking! Thank you so much for your support!

Word Count: 3,751

Chapter 2: Heroic Spiders

Cockroaches….that damn neighbor must have just been messing with you…

Exhausted, your neighbor's little comment had compelled you to spend the rest of the night checking every surface where a cockroach could be hidden, only to be met with nothing. Maybe he had done it just to stress you out, what a jerk…whatever, just avoid him, that should be easy. 

Though you can’t get too wrapped in thinking of your smartass neighbor right now, you need to focus on getting ready for work. The job you managed to land was at a bar in the neighborhood with an owner who seemed nice and paid decently; though you were still on the hunt for a second job, New York is an expensive place to live and your scholarship can only help you so much. 

Being a bartender was easy for you, it was one of the first jobs you got when you started going to school, plus there were always bars near campuses. There is also the fact that for your school schedule getting to work nights worked out best for you. Bartending was fairly simple and getting your certification was easy enough, yes you had the occasional creeps at the bar but usually, it was an overall safe environment with people just trying to wind down after their long work weeks. Plus when people are tipsy they tend to tip well, perks of the trade. 

Moving to New York for a scholarship has been a whirlwind of unfamiliarity, but bartending is something you knew and were confident in. Plus maybe there would be other people around your age working there, your shot at a friendship with the neighbors wasn’t going well but maybe you could be friends with your coworkers. 

Finished getting ready, you gather your bag and give yourself a once over. The outfit looks nice, the hair is done right, and the makeup is nice just the way you like it. This is perfect, you feel confident, and nothing is going to mess up your night! 

Walking out of your apartment you lock your door and you hear the creaky elevator doors starting to close. Quickly you call out for someone to hold the door as you run to the elevator, and to your delight a hand catches the door before it can shut. Getting to the elevator you wear a sweet smile ready for whoever held the elevator for you but once the doors open back up your smile sinks into a bitter glare. It’s him….the spider catcher with the grumpy attitude. 

As you begrudgingly walk into the elevator you see that his face equally doesn’t look too pleased to be seeing you. A part of you wishes he wouldn't have held the door so you could skip being stuck in the cramped elevator with him, but you don’t want to risk running late on your first day. So instead you must suffer through the awkward silence that’s filling in the space between you too. 

Standing there side by side your thoughts are lamenting why this elevator had to be so slow. Trying to keep yourself appear unbothered by him, your eyes go to observe him despite your trying not to. Today he looks a bit less tired and is wearing normal clothes, not his pajamas. His hair is still fluffy but you're starting to think that’s just how he wears it. Also, his brown eyes are covered up by glasses. Danm, he’s got that whole cute nerd thing going for him huh…

As you're studying him his eyes move to you and you quickly avert your gaze feeling flustered to have gotten caught looking. Get a grip girl you can’t think he’s cute he is a rude jerk who called you dramatic, you can’t think he’s cute, absolutely not! Staring straight ahead you swear you heard him slightly snickering to himself, just being so close to him so making your blood boil. Never before has someone bothered you so much but here he is driving you mad. 

Shooting your eyes over to him you're making sure to give him a dirty look, one that says, I don’t like your jerk face. Though he’s not paying attention, opting to fiddle around with his camera instead. Looking at the camera you note that it appears to be an older model then some white lettering on the device catches your attention. 

“Peter Parker…” you whisper, as you do his head shoots over to you with a confused look on his face. Moving your head at the number of floors you still have left to go, you feel his eyes still on you. 

“It’s rude to stare,” you say irritatedly

“Yeah, I know that, do you?” 

You whip your head around facing him now, “I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading the name on the camera.” 

“I was talking about before you said my name.” 

“Well I wasn’t staring at you then either,” -your liar, you were staring…

“Yeah sure…y/n” 

Your eyes go wide at him saying your name and you look at him confused. He points down at your bag with a smug look on his face.  

“Your school ID is hanging out of your bag” 

Looking at your bag you see he was right so you quickly tuck your ID back into your bag. Well isn’t he just clever….

Folding your arms in a huff the two of you fall back into a silence. He messes with his camera once more and you stare straight ahead while irritation grows. Maybe it's the awkward silence or maybe it's your need to have the last word because you can’t help yourself from muttering to him “I didn’t see any roaches….” 

He slightly laughs “Yeah your spider friend made sure of that” 

“What?! You think I’m going to get them now?!” 

He shrugs “That’s why you should be nicer to spiders, they help us in more ways than we know” 

“Didn’t realize I was talking to a spider enthusiast….” 

“I’m not a spider enthusiast..” 

“Could have fooled me…” 

The elevator grows quiet again and it seems this time you are going to have the last word. Success. Though as you're standing there you can feel eyes on you turning to give him a dirty look again, he might start thinking that's just how you look. Peter seems completely unfazed by the look you give him as his eyes scan you up and down. As if the elevator wasn’t already cramped now having a guy looking you up and down makes the space feel downright claustrophobic. You can’t help how his eyes on your bare legs make you want to squeeze your thighs together. Is he checking you out right now? Maybe you should scold him?  

“You do know that it’s going to be cold and raining tonight right?” 

The comment takes you aback for a second, he must be referring to your chosen outfit for work tonight and your lack of an umbrella and coat. A black long-sleeve top paired with shorts and a pair of comfortable tennis shoes is perfect for having to be on your feet all night. You wear these outfits because when you show more skin as a bartender you get more tips, well at the bar you used to work at anyways that's how it worked. 

Looking over at Peter you shrug trying to come off as unfazed as possible, “the weatherman said that it wasn’t going to rain a little cold but I can handle that.'' you say matter of factly to Peter. 

“Let me guess, the weatherman from channel 12? Yeah, he’s always wrong.” furrowing your brows you look at him confused. One, how did he know what channel you were watching? Two, how was he so sure of himself? 

“Well, he’s a weatherman, are you? Unless you're telling me you're a weatherman and a spider expert” You fold your arms and look at him with your eyebrows raised inquisitively. 

Peter looks at you eyeing him and slightly giggles to himself, “No I am neither but, I just have a…sense for these sorts of things''. 

You look at him and roll your eyes. “Well I am going to go with what the weatherman says, no offense to your weather sense abilities.” for theatrics, you hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers mockingly.  

This causes Peter to laugh out loud a bit “Well when you get caught in the rain and you're freezing, just know I told you so.” Peter adjusts his gaze back to the elevator staring at the warped reflections of the two of you with a sly smile on his face. 

“Don’t worry about me, I can handle it.”

“Like you handle spiders?” 

Smartass….

Before you can give your rebuttal the elevator is stopping with a loud whine and then opening up. In a huff, you exit quickly having had enough of Peter Parker. Sure he may have one this round but next time you will for sure have the last word. 

“Can I get a whiskey on the rocks with a twist” 

Before the guy could finish his sentence you're already pouring the amber liquid over the singular ice cube in a fresh glass. The final touch is the lemon rind being rubbed onto the lip of the glass cup then dropping the rind into the glass to keep working its aromatic magic. Sliding the glass over you smile at him. Going to wash his used glass you watch through partials as he places a fair tip in the jar for your service. You will be sure to always be quick with his drink to continue to get the good tips.

As you had hoped work was going smoothly, The bar was perfect, manageable with steady business. The perfect blend of just being busy enough that you see new people and keeping the shift going by fast but slow enough that you don’t feel like you're drowning. The best part is that the new boss Gregory was a nice family man who had inherited the bar from his dad. 

Gregory and you had started small talk while he showed you the ropes, you learned he had a wife with a son and another on the way. He revealed that he liked to hire college students who needed a flexible schedule. Though, much to your chagrin you were the only college student working at the bar at the moment. The last two recently quit due to them finding different careers with their degrees, a thing you're sure to do as well when you graduate. 

Though nobody else was a college student like you, everyone you met was nice and welcoming, making you feel like you could finally get that friend circle you had been craving. Though you need to play it cool, the last thing anyone wants is to be smothered by the new girl desperate for friends. -baby steps for now. 

The bar seemed to be a great fit, everyone was nice and all the customers seemed pretty chill. Maybe your luck was starting to finally turn around, maybe this would all work out and everything would go as you hoped.

Maybe… 

Taking a deep sigh you stare at the rain as it pours down onto the darkly lit sidewalk that you need to take to get home. Looks like your luck hasn't exactly changed. Resting your head against the front of the bar you hold yourself trying to keep warm as best you could. Seems that your neighbor should think about becoming a weatherman with that accurate weather sense of his. You even checked your phone's weather app and it said the rain chances were low! 

Now it's been 30 minutes since work ended and the bar closed and that was 30 minutes of you standing underneath the bar awning alone in a shifty neighborhood. If the rain wasn’t here to hinder you could have been home by now cuddled in your warm bed. No, with how everything was going for you it only makes sense that this is the outcome of your first night at work, and you only have yourself to blame. 

Coworkers had offered to stay with you but you knew how exhausted everyone was so you decided to just tell everyone you would call a cab. However, cabs cost money, something that you do not have a large sum of. So here you are waiting, as patiently as one can in a cold night rain storm, with your apartment keys tightly weaved between your fingers due to you still not having bought pepper spray. Maybe you could make a run for it? But you're completely exhausted from your first day so the last thing you want is to go take a sprint back to your apartment, but it might be your best bet. 

As you're leaning down to tighten your laces for your run a loud crash is causing you to jump. Startled, you nearly dropped your phone and keys, looking at where the noise came from. It of course came from down an alley of the bar, a dark and creepy alley…

Now there are two things you can do, one is to leave the area for a safe spot, this is the safe and smart option due to it being late at night and you being by yourself with only keys for protection. Then there is the option of being a dutiful employee and making sure that the bar is okay and not being robbed. Taking a moment to think you bounce on the heels of your feet shifting with uncertainty. - You're going to regret this…

Phone in hand and keys in your fist, you're briskly walking down the alley with your head on a swivel as you get drenched from the rain trying to figure out where the noise came from. Damn, your need to be a good samaritan, this is how people get robbed.  

Ignoring your inner thoughts as you go further down the alley you come across a broken window from the building next to the bar. Thankfully it’s not the bar and nobody seems to be around, you sigh of relief. So what now? Do you call the police? You could do that but do you want to have to wait around for them to get here? Examining the window you figure the best scenario is to get to a safe area then call them and explain what you heard. 

Tucking your keys into your pocket you start walking out of the alley but before you can get out, a sudden hand on the back of your neck has you being shoved into the brick wall of the building's side. Letting out a sharp scream, a hand is covering your mouth and a knife is being pressed to your neck. Eyes wide you feel yourself shaking as you stare at the bloodshot eyes peeking through the ski mask. A part of you wants to fight him off but every time you slightly move the man presses against you harder making you wince from the crushing weight. “Shhh, stop moving and I will make this as painless as possible.” 

Shit, Shit… you feel yourself starting to panic at the man's words. What does he mean? Mind scrambling your eyes start to fill with tears, “Drop the bag to the ground and slide to your knees…”  

No, No, No! You want to fight, you want to push him away but you can’t muster the energy, your limbs feel like jelly. Dropping your bag from your shoulder you shut your eyes tightly as you lean further into the wall, hoping for the wall to open up and swallow you, for someone to walk by and see you. Anything…please anyone…

Then a thwip noise and suddenly all that weight on your body is suddenly off you and you're sliding to the wet ground. Keeping your eyes shut you don’t dare look as you hear what sounds like grunts and punches. Then what sounds like the drop of something and running away, curling into yourself you're just trying to be invisible, wanting to wash away with the freezing rain. Then a voice, slightly muffled, is cutting through the pour of the rain, “Hey? You okay there….miss?” 

Opening your eyes you see the masked vigilante…Spider-man. Squatted in front of you he holds your phone towards you and your bag in his other hand. White lenses watch your shivering body as you slowly nod and reach out to grab your phone. 

“Are you hurt?” his voice asks calmly as he studies you, shaking your head he hums to himself before standing up and holding his hand out towards you. 

“Good, let's get you out of this rain. You might want to carry an umbrella with you, it gets rainy this time of year.” All you can manage to do is nod absentmindedly as you take his hand as he pulls you to your feet. Staring at the red and blue-clad man as he continues to ramble about the weather this time of year, it's all honestly lost on you as you're still in shock over what happened and what could have happened. 

“I don’t have an umbrella…” is all you managed to say. Your soft words stop his rambling and even though you can’t see his face you know it's contorted into a look of pity. You're happy you can’t see behind the heroic spider's mask, being pitied like a child would only make you feel worse in this moment.  

“Well, we will have to worry about that part later, for now, let's get you home, huh? Where do you live?” 

“Crescent apartments.”  

“Okay good, that's a short swing,” you watch as he starts to stretch and roll his hips, tilting your head you give him a look and he chuckles and shrugs. “Swinging is all in the hips, scared of heights?” he holds his hand out to you once more. Shaking your head you grab his hand and he puts your bag over his head before pulling you closer in a careful embrace. 

“Just hang on tight and it's best if you keep your eyes closed, the rain might sting your eyes if you keep them open.” 

Nodding you wrap your hands around his neck and with a strong arm wrapping around you and a thwip you two are off. Heeding his advice you keep your eyes shut and head tucked into his neck. You can't ignore how even though he's wrapped in a spandex suit, he's still giving off a comforting warmth that causes you to forget all about the rain and the cold you were once feeling.  The only thing you are focused on is the sound of the wind past your ears and the rhythmic beating of his heart. It's calming…

In what feels like a quick short minute you're no longer hearing the whooshing and the cold wind is no longer nipping at your bare legs. Keeping your head buried you feel yourself get placed down on your feet as a hand gently pats your back albeit kinda awkwardly but there's a tenderness there. “We have arrived…” 

Letting go, you look up at him again, still feeling shocked by everything that happened in such a short time. Opening your mouth you try to think of anything to say as you shield your eyes from the rain, but before you can manage anything spiderman is placing his hand on your shoulder “Get inside and get warm, you might get sick.” 

Then with a flick of his wrist, he's swinging off disappearing into the hazy lights of a rainy New York. Standing there you watch with a slack-jawed expression. That was Spider-Man, you were saved by Spider-Man…you have got to start being nice to all these spiders coming into your life.

Mind still hazy from shock, you're on full autopilot as you arrive at your door going to grab your keys from your pocket. You finally look down and your blood runs cold again. You have your keys and your phone…but your bag is gone. Thumping your head against your door you let out a low groan your sure your cranky neighbor is sure to hear, but you can’t care about that now Spider-man has your bag…shit…

Pushing inside your pacing around, how do you get your bag back? Is there a way to get a hold of him? Is there an emergency number? A signal? Walking aimlessly you feel tears pricking at your eyes. Frustration is starting to get at you from what seems to be the worst night of your life. First the neighbor, then the freezing rain, getting attacked, and now your bag is gone with some mystery masked hero! That bag had all your IDs, your money, and your planner! 

Twap

Pulling from your panic you Look at your window you see your purse stuck to your window with a note attached. Carefully you approach and retrieve your bag, checking the contents you see that everything is accounted for. Then you read the note:

‘I accidentally stole your bag, my bad! Stay warm!’ with the note you see a doodle of a spider with a smiley face. The little picture makes you chuckle slightly as you scan over the words. Spider-man has nice handwriting, you would assume it would be quick and scratchy but it was actually…pretty…huh…

Reread the note and place it on your nightstand and you trug yourself into your bathroom. As you're starting the shower to warm yourself up it’s then you finally glimpse yourself in the mirror. What stares back at you is a mess, make-up is running, your hair is flat and stringy and your face is puffy from when you were fighting off tears. As you stare in the mirror, you're looking at someone you don’t even recognize… a lump in your throat builds but you try to keep yourself from breaking down. Just remember your mantra- don’t let it get you down…stay strong…this was your dream…this is a great opportunity…

This night was a mess….This whole move has been a mess…

No friends…your neighbor hates you…barely making it by and it hasn't even been a full week…you still have school to worry about, how would that end up getting messed up…

Sinking to the floor, rest your head against the wall trying to keep your tears in.  

Maybe this was all a mistake…maybe this move…was a mistake…

Tags:@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay

[lolahasmoxie]

I’m currently soaking in a hot bath, and this thought popped into my head earlier while I was trying to nap

Imagine Eddie the first time he gets to see pussy live and in person.

He’s staring at it like it will reveal the secrets of the universe to him. Like it’s a secret door to Narnia.

He’ll take his thumbs and spread you open, his jaw dropping as he can see the wetness there.

You want to giggle at how intensely he’s looking at your pussy, like you’re going to give him a test afterwards. “You can touch me, you know.”

He hesitantly reaches out, his touch is soft as his long finger gathers up some of your wetness. He gently runs the liquid up and down the edges of your opening. His cock begins to throb when he sees them swell with arousal.

When he sees your clit, he finally makes eye contact with you. You nod, “there’s the sweet spot, sweetheart.”

He takes more of your wetness and slowly starts to circle around your clit. He lets out a low moan when he sees the bud start to grow.

He needs more,

“Please, can I taste you?”

“Fuck, please, YES.”

He licks from hole to clit, groaning into your pussy as your taste explodes on his tongue. When he reaches your clit, his tongue circles it slowly.

When he feels it swell even more in his mouth, he can’t help but start grinding his hips into the mattress.

His hands find your inner thighs and push them back onto the bed as he continues to devour you. He’s so lost in you he almost misses your instructions to use his fingers.

He was not prepared for how warm and wet you were. He knew from his collection of skin mags that he was supposed to look for something that felt spongey, and when he grazes over it he watches in awe as your back bends off the bed.

He strokes you in a steady come hither motion, listening as your breathing becomes more labored. You tell him to use his mouth, and he can’t help but preen as you chant please over and over.

He wraps his plump lips around your clit, his hips rolling in time with his fingers. It’s a steady rhythm that has you thanking any and all higher powers for Eddie’s musical skills.

“Keep that tempo, please I’m so close”

Eddie is compelled to obey your command. Your moans get louder as you crest and when you finally fall over the edge Eddie feels like he’s reached another plane of existence.

Your moans are music to his ears. The way you chant his name as your hand grabs his hair. The way your pussy grips his fingers like she doesn’t want to let him go, and a new wave of wetness coats his fingers.

You’re about to beg him to stop when he finally pulls off your clit to let out an obscene moan as his hips falter against the mattress. His own orgasm has him seeing stars, his hands grip your thighs to try and keep him tethered to this world.

Your eyes are closed, body still vibrating when Eddie shuffles up a bit on the bed. He rests his head on your stomach, his hair tickling your skin as he collapses against you still trying to catch his breath.

You both just enjoy the silence. Eddie kisses whatever skin he can reach. Your hand caresses his face, a smile on your lips when he takes your hand and softly kisses the tips of your fingers. When he finally lifts his head to look at you, he smiles at you so wide you can see every dimple on his beautiful face.

“So, how did I do?

[grapementos]

wasted

aged up osamu x gn reader

“what would you do if you could go back in time?”

you began, blinking slowly at the ground.

“way, way back. before me, before us. what would you do?”

the silence you were met with wasn’t at all surprising. a low, deep growl of thunder reverberated through the sky and into the ground. it startled you, so much so that you pushed yourself up to your feet.

“would you walk right past me? look the other way? pretend you didn’t see me so you wouldn’t have had to hold that door open?” not being answered boiled your blood.

it was a helpless kind of frustration, one that made the back of your eyes and the tips of your fingers burn with impatience. ultimately, you couldn’t help but yell.

“would you follow your dream anyways? be able to run the restaurant so much easier without me here?” you demanded, fists clenched tightly at your side, so much so that small crescents were forming on your palms, “you’d be able to go all around the board, pass go, and collect that $200, huh? all without me.”

your tears didn’t get the memo your brain was desperately trying to send.

be angry. not sad.

yet, you couldn’t truthfully say your tears were ones of anger—instead those of grief.

“that’s what you said you wanted, right?” you whispered, a ball forming in your throat, “you wanted your business to thrive, and that just wasn’t possible with me there.”

“y/n—”

“no, shut up.” you bit out sharply, hands trembling at your side, “you don’t get to talk. not after you cheated.”

his entire expression faltered, mouth gaping like a dumbfounded fish. a stupid goddamn fish that had been caught and was about to be reeled in and grilled.

“it’s bad enough that i had to hear it from atsumu, but with them? we hit a rough patch and you run to them? that’s fucking,” you sucked in a breath, hating the crack in your voice, “that’s fucking pathetic. onigiri miya isn’t stagnating because of me, because you think i’m holding you back. it’s because of you.”

you clenched your jaw to keep your lip from trembling. your entire body was lit up like a christmas tree, anger and betrayal running hot down into your fingers. every force in the universe compelled you to scream, cry, hit something, but you didn’t. you attacked him with your words, your pain, your broken heart.

“it’s because you have some war waging on in your mind, perceiving everyone else as the problem, the—the issue.” you stammered out, suddenly feeling so liberated, so free of the sheer weight of the truth, “newsflash, you’re not fucking perfect.”

“y/n, please, just let me—”

“shut the fuck up! you’ve talked over me, suppressed my opinions, dismissed me—for too damn long.” you hissed, stepping forward to jut a finger into his chest, “you’ve wasted my time. three years of my life that i’m never gonna get back. do you realize the gravity of that? three whole fucking years.”

you stared up at him, watching him cry and savoring it. you’d never felt so powerful, so alive. you drank in his pain, his regret, the wounds you were creating with the sole force of your words.

“don’t ever, ever contact me again. don’t have atsumu or suna or fucking aran ask how i’m doing. stay the fuck out of my life.” you dropped your hand, shaking your head, “i hope this restaurant, the little stress relief you felt when you were with them—i hope it was worth losing one of the only people that’s stood by your side.”

a feeling of calm accompanied you out the door as you stepped into a world of freedom and opportunities.

[littlemissmanga]

oooh for the kiss prompt, may I please request:

3. their lips on yours, hot, feverish, partly sucking, teasing with their tongue (OMG-)

with Jesse or Wolffe

thank you so much for being amazing 🤩

Oh yes you may! And I only return the amazing I receive, my dear, so this is a community effort :)

Hm, it's a tough choice but I think I'm feeling Jesse today. Just feeling that particular brand of intense.

Pairing: Jesse x reader

w/c: 663

SFW but very suggestive, no warnings, just fluff

He needed to see you.

That was the only thought running through his head, the only thing that mattered in this moment. The guilt at not helping his brothers settle in after such a tough mission can come tomorrow.

Tonight, he planned on getting lost in you.

He keyed in the code to your front door. Your singing is the first thing he registered as he made sure the door locked behind him. His armor trailed behind him as he moved inside, following the sound of your voice into the kitchen.

There you are.

He could cry with how beautiful you were. Karking vibrant as you moved effortlessly in your own space, putting away dishes like it was a choreographed performance, your hips swinging to the beat you were singing.

You were everything good, and sweet, and kind, and pure in this galaxy. Everything he longed but never hoped for.

Everything you insisted he deserved.

He wasn’t so sure of that, not with the specter of old battles haunting him. But he also wasn’t a good enough man to care, not when you gave yourself to him so happily.

“Can I cut in?”

 You yelped, and Jesse was glad he chose to stay in the entry based on how you flailed about, surprised by his voice.

“Jesse!” Your tone was a mix of annoyed and overjoyed and he had never heard anything so lovely. You flew across the kitchen, forcing him to catch you as you threw yourself into his arms.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Jesse grumbled into your ear, his hold around you tightening. He let his hands mold to the curve of your frame, relishing in the feel of you securely against him. He could feel each breath you took as your chest expanded against his, and yet he was compelled to pull you even closer.

“How long do I have you?”

“Four days.”

He could feel your smile form against his neck. It was more than he usually got.

“Lucky.” Jesse looked down as he felt you pull back and look up at him. “You’ve got lousy timing. I just finished cleaning up. You’re lucky you’re cute, though. I don’t mind dirtying up the kitchen again. What d’ya want for dinner? I’ve got some tip yi—"

He cut you off with the seal of his lips against yours. Food wasn’t going to satisfy him. He needed you, and he needed you to need him just as fiercely.

Jesse walked you back to trap you against the wall, his hips meeting yours as he pressed himself against you, trapping you as his tongue darted out to tease your soft lips. Satisfaction hummed pleasantly through his body as you melted from his touch.

Your mouth dropped open at his insistence, and he couldn’t resist gently taking your lower lip between his own and sucking, soothing the strain after with the swipe of his tongue.

Gods, he couldn’t get enough of those sweet moans you made just for him.

“Sorry baby. I couldn’t wait another second. Needed my mouth on you. Needed you right here against me.” His apology was half sincere at best. Tomorrow he can be sorry for interrupting, for taking what he needed.

You pushed up against him to hold your lips against his as you said, “Don’t be sorry. I’ve missed you, too.”

Jesse pushed forward, done with teasing touches at your approval. He claimed your mouth with his, stealing the very breath from your lungs and replacing it with himself. You returned his frenzy, trailing your tongue against his before pulling back enough to nip at his lip, the shock of the sting shooting straight to his groin.

With a growl from deep in his chest, Jesse broke away, distracted for only a split second by the string of saliva connecting his lips to your sinful tongue, still poking out of your open mouth.

“Bedroom. Now,” he rasped, enamored at how quickly you jumped to follow his command, pulling him behind you to your bedroom door so you could both get what you needed.

[witchsickness]

headquarters are at harrington’s.

well. the new headquarters, since, according to max, the byers’ floor was creaking under their combined weight. not that billy’s complaining. thinking of that house turns his gums sour, and harrington’s place is—big. big enough to lose yourself in.

billy’s nurtured the habit of keeping tabs on things he considers his, though, which isn’t sensible, but, then again. neither is he. in a house full of not-kids-anymore, he can always find harrington. a twisted game of needle-in-haystack, and billy’s the detector.

on the far side of the upstairs corridor, the door’s half-open. billy brushes his knuckles against it, intending it as a knock. ends up pushing it all the way open instead. ‘you busy?’

harrington’s clearly not. frozen in the middle of the room, staring at the bat in his hands. he looks up as billy walks in, blinks himself back to awareness. ‘is it time?’

‘not yet. i, uh—’

‘want some help with the straps?’

billy looks down at his own hands to find them gripping a vest. much good it’ll do. what the thing they’re going against is after can’t get bullet-proofed. still. they’re dying tonight. maybe harrington’s hands on him can be his one good memory this time around.

‘sure,’ he says, handing him the jacket. it’s secondhand, and the velcro hooks are worn thin, the loops lumpy. billy has to pull the hem down while harrington presses the strips to make them stick. through the kevlar layers, the touch doesn’t even register. billy wants to scream.

‘all set,’ harrington says, arms dropping to hang limply at his sides.

‘right.’ billy has to cough to clear the raspiness off his voice. ‘that’s actually—that’s not what i wanted to talk to you about.’

the bat rolls silently on the carpeted floor when harrington pokes it with the tip of his shoe. ‘whatever it is, make it quick. might be your last chance.’

don’t i know it, billy thinks, and says, ‘that thing we’re after. is it. the same that—’

‘fuck if i know,’ harrington scoffs, and billy gets the impression it’s more to himself. ‘what makes you think i have any idea what anyone is talking about, ever?’

billy sucks his teeth. a loud, shrill noise that does little in the way of comforting him. his hands can’t stop shaking. ‘harrington. you’re making this way too easy, yeah? at least pretend you got a clue.’

with a lilt that means he’s reciting terms that mean nothing to him, harrington says, ‘it’s all part of the same creature. a hive-mind.’ with a smile like he’s amused, ‘was there something else, or—’

‘i want you to kill me.’

the smile withers on harrington’s mouth. ‘what the fuck?’

‘i mean it.’ unlike every other time, shelves digging into his back and hands around his throat, choking litanies out of him, do it, kill me, set me free, billy—finally, he means it. for the first time. for the last. ‘if this thing gets me again. don’t—wait for me to spit it out. not this time. hold el back if she tries to—’

‘i feel compelled to remind you el has psychic powers, so holding her back isn’t really—’

‘just—’ billy grinds his molars. pain shoots down his nerves, and he—revels in it. the luxury of being the only resident in his own mind. for a while longer, at least. ‘just take me out. that’s all i’m asking.’

harrington—laughs. throws his pretty head back and laughs like carefree isn’t just a distant memory. ‘are you serious? you think, what, an alien entity has it out for you? keeps ripping time and space to shreds to get back at you?’

‘it targets people, genius.’

‘yeah, and you beat it once. why would it try again?’

behind his eyelids, billy sees red. he has to fight a snarl off his face. ‘this isn’t a discussion, harrington. i’m asking you for a favor. or doing you one, depending on how you look at it. here’s your chance to finally be rid of me. once and for all.’

cogs are whirring inside harrington’s mind. he hums, considering the offer. ‘how?’

‘please. you’ve been drooling to use that bat of yours on me for a long time.’

‘too messy. don’t want your brains all over me.’ harrington takes a step closer. like this, the bat’s sandwiched between the tips of their shoes. ‘here’s an idea. how ‘bout you don’t get caught?’

‘sure, but if—’

‘all you need is a good memory.’

it takes a second to draw the invisible line from harrington’s eyes to billy’s—billy licks his lips. ‘i’m done for,’ he says, breathless. earlier than expected. he thought he had a couple more hours in the bag. one last fight.

‘how long would it take,’ harrington says, pressing closer, ‘to make a new one?’

[my-writings-and-musings]

I keep thinking about a human whose just very shy and nervous, rather reclusive and doesn't feel fully comfortable around most people, or bots

But the one bot they absolutely adore? Trust with their life? The one bot that truly makes them feel safe and secure, for as long as he's around? Their safety net?

Whirl

For some reason, the human is just so so so incredably attached to Whirl, if they don't have anything to do, they're usually in his tits cockpit, either talking to him about the most random nonsense, or just relaxing

No one knows why or how, it just happened

Whirl would do anything for his little human

For some reason Whirl also stands out to me as being the most likely to adopt any liaison, especially one who needs a little help feeling comfortable or safe. He's like an emotional support animal but thirty feet tall and capable of lots of violence, though perhaps that's what makes him so good at the job? Either way, I fully agree anon! I wrote a little something inspired by this <3

You could feel your heart hammering against your ribs as your blood pounded in your ears like a drum, so that even tucked away in your little hiding space there was just too much noise. It had started with a busy night at Swerve's, where you'd tried so hard to push yourself to be okay for a single evening only to find yourself overwhelmed as always... Were your body not throbbing from overstimulation you'd have been quite worried about running off like you had.

The rumble of encroaching footsteps made you throw your hands over your ears and squeeze your eyes shut, your heart beating quickly enough to feel as if it might burst from between your ribs at any given moment. Despite being well hidden beneath a piece of furniture, the bot continued to close in on your hiding spot, making you want to scream when only a whisper could be uttered through your clenched teeth.

"Please, leave me alone..." you begged, hoping that whoever had wandered in would turn around and leave you be. It was nothing personal, it was all just too much, and you couldn't breathe at the thought of more attention. They all meant well, but there was nothing any of them could do to save you from the overwhelming terror clutching your chest like a vice. Tears burned your closed eyes as the bot drew ever nearer and the rushing in your ears became a cacophony of oppressive noise. "Please..."

A familiar warm yellow glow covered your entire body, compelling you to open your eyes to find a single optic peeking into your hiding spot.

"There you are." Whirl said matter of factly, cutting through the thick static of your panic and extending the tip of a claw into the narrow space. "Looks cramped in there. Wanna come on out?"

Sniffling, you grabbed a hold of him even though you were perfectly capable of crawling out yourself. Just having him near cooled the heat of your panic, though the rush of emotions that followed were far from pleasant, and you found fresh tears dripping down your cheeks as you came back into the open. Quite accustomed to the typical drop in your mood after these incidents, the big bot merely cupped his claws and extended them to you.

"I figured it be best if I found you first, a few bots are out looking for you." he explained gently, allowing you to secure yourself in his grasp before he lifted you to his chassis. You barely heard him as you wept, freeing all the terrible feelings that had swarmed inside of you. Whirl popped open his cockpit to reveal the little nest of blankets he'd made just for you, and he helped you get settled in silence before a tender claw tucked you in and he spoke again. "I'll let them know you're okay, and we can hang out for now, alright?"

Words failed you as the comfort of your safe space soothed you to the very core of your being, calming your haggard breaths into soft sighs. It was more or less impossible to be scared with the big bot literally all around you, as if you were secured within a warm embrace every time you settled down in his cockpit. A careful claw brushed by your hair to encourage you to close your eyes, and you felt Whirl begin to move as he sealed the hatch over you, his voice just audible as he placed a protective servo over the glass.

"You're okay, I'll make sure of it."

[miss-americana-reputation]

(on a trip rn but until i can do back off bitch pt. 2, here’s this)

Klaus Mikealson x Reader

A/N: smut 18+, jealous!klaus, fingering without finishing, hair pulling, throat fucking, a bit of degrading and praise (i couldn’t help myself), aftercare

reader is a female, uses she/her, and has female anatomy

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i was mainly following rebekah around the dance floor as she talked to people while i just stayed behind. i’m in a dark blue, almost black velvet dress that highlights my best features and shows the perfect amount of cleavage.

“my brother slash your watchdog is here.” she tells me, motioning up to where klaus is standing, a fierce look in his eyes. he’s not looking at us, but past us, to a group of guys staring me and rebekah down.

i shake it off and go grab myself another drink. “let me buy you one.” i turn to see one of the guys sitting beside me. “i’m okay, but thanks.” i send him a small smile.

“what’s your name?” he smiles. “it’s y/n.” i answer. “beautiful name.” he smiles. “thanks.” i take a sip of my drink, trying to find klaus. “you here alone?” he asks. “no, she’s not.” i hear klaus from behind us.

i turn my head to see him with a small smirk on his lips. “who the fuck are you?” the guy asks. “the owner of this,” he motions around the compound, “this gorgeous lady’s boyfriend, and i basically own this city.” he explains and gets up, moving between me and the guy.

“listen, you will leave the party, only remembering you met a pretty girl, but she turned you down.” he compels him, the guy quickly leaving. “come.” he drags me upstairs to our room by my wrist.

he practically tosses me in the room, following me, shutting and locking the door behind us. he doesn’t give me a change to talk before he’s hungrily kissing me. “klaus.” i softly moan into it while his hands are roaming my body. i feel my panties dampen as his hand slowly moves against my hips.

“please.” i whine. “hm?” he hums as he moves his lips down my neck. “touch me.” i whine. “angel, i am.” he smirks. “klaus, i need you.” i whine and grind my hips against his. “aw, you poor thing.” he fake pouts. “please.” i whine. “okay.” he smirks and lowers his fingers so they barely touch my clothed cunt.

he pushes my panties to the left and teases me. “please.” i whine. “patience.” he coos. he curls his middle and ring into me. “klaus.” i moan as he speeds them up. “oh fuck.” i whine as he positions his hand so his thumb is playing with my clit.

“please.” i moan as he speeds up his fingers and pushes harder onto my clit. “fu-uck.” i moan. “such a beautiful scene.” he smiles. “you close darling?” he smirks. “mhm.” i nod.

“oh.” he pulls out his fingers. “klaus.” i whine. “knees.” he demands and i follow. i’m kneeling in front of him while he looks up at me, the tent in his pants make my mouth water.

“help me.” he looks at his harden cock. i nod and undo his pants and pull him out. i start stroking him and kissing his salty tip. “shit.” he sucks in a sharp breath. “can i fuck your pretty little throat?” he asks. “mhm.” i nod.

his hands hold onto the side of my face as he rams his cock down my throat, giving me no time to adjust. i choke around his length and that just pushes him further.

“fuck.” he tangles his hands in my hair and guides me against him. the stretch he’s giving my mouth is making my eyes water. “take it, slut.” he degrades me. i continue to let him fuck my mouth like it’s nothing but a hole.

i can sense him almost finishing before he’s pulling away and giving me a small chance to catch my breath. by now tears are staining my cheek along with streaks of mascara and drool is dripping down my chin. “you look beautiful my love.” he coos.

“now bend over the edge the bed.” he demands. i get up on sore knees and follow his directions. “fuck.” he says and pushes my dress up around my waist. “look at you.” he smirks. he pulls down my underwear so they drop down around my ankles.

“ready?” he asks as he lines himself up. “mhm.” i whine. he thrusts into me and i let out a loud moan. he smiles and wraps my hair around his fist to control me. his pace is supernatural, how fitting. i moan louder while he continues.

“klaus.” i moan. “yeah?” he presses one hand onto my back as he continues to rail me. “fuck.” i moan. “mhm.” he nods. “like that, don’t you? you’re sucking my cock in.” he adds. “nik.” i moan. “fuck.” he gasps. “you’re so fucking tight.” he pants.

“i’m close.” the wind up in my stomach is making more tears fall. “hold it.” he grits out. “klaus!” i scream. “please.” i beg. “hold it.” he demands as he continues.

he speeds up his hips as they slam into me. “oh klaus.” i moan. “come, fuck, come.” he grits, barely holding on. i let the knot snap in my stomach as i finish around him. it’s a string of curses and his name as i do.

i come back down panting as he finishes inside me. “fuck.” he sighs. i softly nod as he pulls himself out. i feel like jello and it’s a surprise i can hold myself up. he tucks himself back in and i move up. “here, let me clean you up.” he offers.

he pulls the zipper on my dress down. “come on.” he says softly as he delicately pulls it off. he tosses in on a chair in the corner of his room. “want one of my shirts?” he asks and i nod. “okay.” he smiles.

he gets me dressed in one of his henley’s and a pair of my shorts. “makeup wipes are in the bathroom.” he reminds himself and walks there. he comes back with a wipe. “want me to do it?” he asks and i softly nod and sit up.

he softly wipes off my makeup, making me smile while he does it. “it’s cold.” i smile. “wanna do it yourself?” he asks. “yeah, you’re too slow.” i smile and take it from him. “rude.” he says as i get up. i don’t respond as i head to the bathroom and wipe off the rest.

i finish getting ready for bed and join him in our bed. he’s just in his underwear, with the only light being the lamp on his nightstand, while i join him. “you look sexy as ever.” he smiles. “thanks.” i blush and join him. he pulls me against his side and he softly plays with my hair.

“every second of tonight, you looked stunning.” he softly whispers. “klaus.” i softly giggle. “i think you looked stunning every second of your life.” he smiles. “stop.” i try to turn to not face him anymore. “it’s the truth.” he smiles.

“i love you.” he whispers. “i love you.” i smile back, softly kissing him. “that guy was an idiot for trying to go after you.” he smiles. “yeah, like i’d ever leave you.” i smile.

the next day was spent with me sore and clinging onto klaus. there was a point where i thought i was being too clingy but he just shushed me and pulled me closer to him. every time i tried to hid the marks on my neck, he just moved the hair out of my way and told me that they looked beautiful.

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[kylejsugarman]

hi syd! you mentioned that you’ve won several writing contests (as if that isn’t already obvious from your fics) and i was wondering if you have any tips? finding a good contest, meeting the deadline, catering your submission to the contest and judges, etc? i’m a young writer hoping to win some contests, for scholarship money, college apps, and just. yknow for fun. but i also have adhd, and i have a really hard time finishing projects and meeting deadlines and i guess i was wondering if you have advice for that as another writer with adhd

hey!! so in terms of finding contests, even just researching "writing contests for high schoolers" (im guessing ur in high school based on u saying "college apps", i do not mean high schooler in like a derogatory sense) can usually take u to some helpful directories!! there are a lot of sites these days that will compile contests and applications that u can navigate by deadline/rules. looking to see if institutions in ur city, county, or state offer writing contests is also super helpful: a lot of colleges, professional schools, hospitals, organizations, etc. have these contests and it always looks good if u engage with institutions that are (somewhat) local!! im a really bad source of advice for reaching deadlines because writing is actually the one thing that i dont have trouble meeting deadlines for, but only because when i write something, i write it all at once. this usually means i only write that first draft (which isn't my Advice dfghdfgh), but it also means getting the Hard part over. ur going to feel compelled to like line-by-line write something perfect that everyone will love, but its important to write down Something as soon as possible because there is always time to go back and change things. dont write it with the judges in mind, don't think about like someone hyper-analyzing every word when ur writing things down.

speaking of judges, u do not have to cater ur writing specifically to them, but there are key things to drop in that can improve ur chances. if u are writing for a contest sponsored by a specific entity or associated with a specific institution, u need to do some research and weft some acknowledgement and appreciation into ur writing even if u do not give a fuck about it. try to flip ur prompt on its head. question the prompt in the first line. get meta about it. write about u contemplating the prompt, contemplating ur essay. writing from a different perspective, questioning the prompt, drawing from ur experiences and being vulnerable (people LOVE when u say shit like "i learned that i did not have all the answers. my strength came from asking others for help") will catch their attention and make u stand out. don't be afraid to put a personal flourish in it just because u might not sound Super Professional And Academic. ur trying to make urself stand out and u need to show that through self reflection, dissection of what ur being asked, interrogating ur own experience and bringing that to the table.

so this is kind of vague and basic but my main pieces of advice are find competitions that relate back to ur identity or location or future aspirations, literally just write down whatever comes to mind and do not worry about it being judged when ur working on it, and put urself in ur writing. i know this isnt super helpful, so if u ever want to come off anon and dm me for more help, editing, etc., please dont hesitate!! writing is a really powerful tool and a REALLY good skill to have

[carnal-lnstinct]

Aaah here i am again hoping i’m not being annoying with my simping lol

If you’re interested can i request some more raditzxblack reader nsfw using the "you can give me another one, can't you baby? for me, please?" prompt? (And yes this time with reader in the dom seat :3c )

Listen when it comes to Raditz I'm right there with ya ♥ aint nothing annoying about it! idk what it is about him, but I am compelled to make it be the nastiest, raw encounter. I also forgot how important his tail was supposed to be in this but now we'll just chalk it up to the power of himbo love™ that makes him complaisant, not even Raditz can withstand black girl magic✨

Pairing: Raditz x Black Female Reader ( Requested by @emmacornell​ ) Rating: Mature / 18+. Minors DNI Prompt: "you can give me another one, can't you baby? for me, please?" Warning: ( explicit language, overstimulation, mention of toys, implied creampie, implied boob job, oral - male receiving, size difference, and redeemed!raditz because why not ♥ )

The large saiyan trembled from his chest to his toes with fistfuls of the sheets around him, drunk on blissful fulfillment when his orgasm rocked through his whole body and shattered his otherwise rugged composure. His hips rutted against your body, rubbing himself through each hot pulse pushing cum from the tip of his oversensitive cock onto you. With a well-pleased grin on your full lips and a sensuous chuckle, you continued to hold your breasts firm around his length, caressing the twitchy piece in their warm embrace to coax every pearly drop from his orgasm. Your natural brown chest was thoroughly decorated in a layer of thick cum, adding onto a previous load and falling into your cleavage to create a slick sound in the way he roll his cock between them. To the last, stubborn bead dripping from his slit.

There was another load hidden in the dips of your thighs, too. You shifted your own legs and the slick texture between them, at home in their clutch was a small vibration pressed to your own sensitive bud that had coaxed his cum out of you a while ago along with your own arousal. You give a satisfying hum as you managed to get the buzzing to rub you just the right way when you leaned further to lap the remaining seed from his tip. Your ears were filled with nothing but pitiful croaks from the saiyan once you hungrily sucked on the swollen head, wanting more. Answered only by the feeling of his legs growing restless beneath you and a deep, strangled groan from his throat.

With your impish smirk, you gaze up through your lashes at him. "What's wrong? Do you like fucking my breasts that much?" You cooed to Raditz after popping his head from your lips, licking your lips clean of his flavor. There was something immensely pleasant looking up at him from this angle, you couldn't help but ogle the rise and fall of his broad chest and his flushed face peeking just over to look back down at you. The sight of your sinful display just told him you were not done with him yet. Your chest and cunt were coated with his seed already, how much more could a mere human desire of him? It shouldn't even make sense for him to be this fragile under your ministrations. He's stronger, and just earlier had you pinned with your legs to your bouncing chest begging for him to fill your pussy with his seed. It was like you changed right under his nose to match the visceral fucking he gave to you and turned it against him. Normally one would have to be even stronger than he was or take advantage of his tail to gain this kind of leverage over him.

But how you spoke so smoothly and firm to him, every affectionate word honest of your desires and attractively crude in how raw your intentions for him truly were touched some innate nerve in him that lead the saiyan to be swayed to your advantage without a fight. Oh, you did more than match his energy. You challenged it, and brought Raditz to dissolve into a horny mass of muscle for you, needing you to milk his cock over and over from how aroused he became under your influence. It just added to his own impulse to give you his everything. All that you wanted from him, he would do without hesitation. The sensation of being like this with you just encouraged his enthusiam to submit to you.

Your dark eyes flashed him with frisky intent. "You came again, but you're still this damn hard." You mused aloud feeling his stiff cock twitch between your breasts again. You withdraw his cock from your breasts and affectionately stroke the swollen mass in its fullest size from head to base, your other hand reaching between your legs and pulling the bullet vibe from between them. "My baby just likes it when I make him cum."

"(Y/n)...please.." Raditz rasped desperately in his submission, his mind foggy in his blissed-out state with his large fingers curling more into the sheets and black pupils vanishing behind his eyelids. He hears your buzzing toy's volume increase for a moment, detecting how it muffled against your hand. It suddenly aroused his entire body when he felt the bullet vibrate across his tip and press into the overstimulated crown of his cock, causing delicious gasps and whines jerking out against his will. Raditz writhe under the sparks of pleasure it fed into him, his wild mane managing to get caught underneath his arms and tangling around his lengthy tail. You observed in utter delight the crescendo of a golden glow fading in and out, then erratically around his tense muscles and heated face.

"You can give me another one, can't you baby? For me, please?" You gently begged with that impish grin again, circling the bullet around his head as you held his erection with your other hand.

"Y-yes! Yes, please!" The saiyan howled, cock jerking in your grasp. "Please make me cum, p-please make me c-cum!"

"That's my baby." You uttered adoringly, dropping the bullet from your hand in your excitement. "That's my big guy." You eagerly climbed up onto his lap and straddled his hips, wasting no time seating yourself onto his large cock and enjoying how easily it sank into your soaking cunt as you adjusted yourself upon it. Enthralled by how much warmer it felt inside you with inklings of his faded super saiyan energy still tingling around before it dropped away, encouraging you to start riding into his lap. Driven to ignite that feeling again. Raditz sat up on an elbow and wrapped his other arm around you to buck into you deep, leaning you closer to latch onto one of your nipples, sucking in not only your natural flavor but a bit of his own cum as well without hesitation. It didn't matter what your body was covered with if it was also his body to please to his own delight. They are his breasts to soak with cum, his breasts to suck and pinch. His body, his beautifully umber body to plunge into ecstasy with, making sure to be just as attentive to your other breast as he desperately humped into the bounce of your ass in his lap. In the heat of the moment, he was intoxicated by the alluring smell of your scented skin in his face along with his own musk mixing into it, as it should be.

As it always will.

[voraciousvore]

Big Corp Inc. (39/43)

***This chapter contains vore!***

Chapter 39: Breaking Point

“Candy, you know you can always talk to me, right?” Martin encouraged, a note of quiet desperation seeping into his tone. “I won’t judge you. You don’t have to hide anything from me.” Work had ended, and the couple was back in Martin’s apartment together, eating dinner. Candy had barely touched her food, only taking small nibbles. Martin had bought her a human-scale dining table and chair that he placed on his own larger table. 

“I know,” Candy mumbled. She avoided Martin’s eyes, poking at her dinner with her doll-sized fork. In her mind’s eye she could only see darkness, hear the horrific sounds of a Giant’s digestion. When she looked at her plate, she recalled being forced into a sandwich, or stuffed into a meatball, or scooped onto an ice cream sundae, or buttered on a biscuit. The memories nauseated her to the point where she couldn’t bear the sight of food, much less ingest it. 

“No matter what, I’ll always be here for you. And I’ll always love you. Whatever is bothering you, we can get through it together.” Martin placed his hands on either side of Candy’s little table and leaned in, holding his face close to her. “Please, Candy. I know something isn’t right. Let me help you.”  

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, barely audible. Candy sank lower into her chair, continuing to avert her gaze. Martin was trying so hard to be empathetic and patient with her, but he was getting frustrated. He didn’t understand why she was hiding secrets from him and trying to conceal her true feelings that were obviously tearing her up inside. He gingerly placed the tip of his finger under her chin and raised her head up, so she couldn’t look away. He brought his face in so close that his enormous eye was right in front of her, seeking to gaze into her soul. 

Candy lost herself in that big, stormy orb. His gigantic iris had depth to it like a gray raincloud. She even fancied she could see flashes of lightning if she looked close enough. His black pupil dilated as he searched her. He blinked. Candy could see so much swirling within that tempest, so much concern and sympathy, even fear. She registered, in some way, that he was scared of losing her. He could see her falling away from him and it caused him agony. Candy struggled to hold back tears, but her vision started to blur with moisture. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Martin. She was keeping him in the dark to protect him, after all.  

She knew, if she told him what Mr. Hardon was doing to her, he’d fly into a rage and beat up the boss, and then he'd really be in trouble. After all, he didn’t hesitate to retaliate against Ronny when he found her shoved into a meatball. He’d definitely lose his job then, since the boss would fire him, and he might even be liable for criminal charges. Candy couldn’t let such a chain of events occur. She couldn’t imagine the horror of Martin being arrested and going to prison, because of his efforts to protect her. 

“Please,” he insisted emphatically. “Is it something I did?” Candy shook her head, rotating her chin on his fingertip. Her eyes were waxing shiny with tears. A droplet overflowed out of one eye and ran down her cheek. “You’re not... scared of me, are you? You don’t feel pressured to be with me? Do you want me to escort you home, to the human side?” His voice was quavering. 

“No,” Candy denied. She couldn’t stop her tears any longer. She wouldn’t be able to tell him everything, but she felt compelled to at least admit the truth about her housing situation. “I... I have no home to go to. I’m homeless.” 

Martin’s jaw dropped open. “What?” Of all the things he considered, he never even suspected she was homeless. He suddenly understood why she never had a lunch packed anymore. His heart bled for her. 

“I lost my apartment because I ran out of human money. I’ve been living in the office. I was sleeping in the janitor closet for a while, until a monster spider attacked me, and now I just sleep on my desk out of sight,” Candy admitted. She burned with shame, but somehow finally confessing her secret to Martin made her feel lighter, less weighed down by her tremendous burden. 

“Oh, Candy... why didn’t you tell me?” Martin cupped her in his hands and lifted her off the table. “No wonder you’ve been so upset! You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you want!” He kissed her and held her up to his chest, hugging her with his hands. “You’re always welcome with me. It’s not like you take up a lot of space.” He laughed, and the sound made her heart sing. 

“I was so worried about you, Candy. I’m glad you finally told me. You don’t need to fret any longer. I will take care of you,” Martin continued. Candy was touched by his generosity. She buried herself in his chest and sobbed without reserve. Martin stroked her back with his thumb, massaging her gently. He was relieved, now that she was finally communicating with him and the truth was out in the open. Now that he could solve her problem that was killing her inside, he hoped she could heal and become her happy self again. 

Despite the fact that she couldn’t tell him about Mr. Hardon, Candy felt better after unloading at least some of her baggage on Martin. Not having to hold back the torrential downpour of tears helped too. Candy was in such a situation where she constantly felt the need to repress her outward displays of emotion, whether she was at work or in Martin’s apartment, which was becoming quite an impossible feat. Thus, to let it all out was therapeutic. Being comforted by her Giant lover made everything better too, at least until she would have to be separated from him. 

Unfortunately, such an event was bound to happen at work the next day, and Candy knew it all too well. When Martin and Candy arrived at work together the following day, Mr. Hardon was hasty to intercept Martin and hand him another thick stack of forms to work on. Martin was none the wiser, not discerning that the tasks were mere busywork intended to distract and divert him away from his girl. Once Martin was out of range, Mr. Hardon returned to Candy’s cubicle with a bloodcurdling leer that churned her stomach. He forcibly ripped her away from her desk and conveyed her into his office, slamming the door behind him.  

He flung her onto his own massive desk and stopped her from escaping by swatting her back to the center with his palm whenever she attempted to dart away. Candy flopped down in misery and defeat. She didn’t know why she even tried to escape anymore: Mr. Hardon knew all her tricks, could easily anticipate her actions, and was a million times bigger and stronger than her. She had yet to successfully get away, not even the first time when she had caught him by surprise. She shriveled up like a raisin and shook. 

“Now, what should I do with you today?” Mr. Hardon rumbled, like an approaching cataclysmic storm. He stared at Candy long and hard, his lips turned up at the corners of his mouth. He was in no hurry, intentionally drawing out the suspense to antagonize his victim. He leaned over Candy, dwarfing her with his mountainous frame. A plaintive whimper escaped her lips as she cowered before him. 

“I must confess I am rather peckish. I had a light breakfast,” Mr. Hardon remarked, rubbing his belly. An audible growl emanated from his midsection, as if his stomach was clamoring in agreement. Candy’s face went ashen. “Then again... I have other needs as well.” His hand kneaded his crotch, and she turned green with revulsion. “Oh, what to do, what to do...” 

He scratched his chin. “On the other hand, maybe I should try something new today. New experiences are always interesting, wouldn’t you say, Candy?” She didn’t know what he had in mind, but the sadistic gleam animating his pale eyes sickened her. 

Candy squirmed with agony. Mr. Hardon hadn’t even started yet, and she already knew without a shade of doubt she wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. She reflected that even Ronny was perceptive enough to plainly see it. He could have used the opportunity he had yesterday to destroy her, but instead he refrained. He recognized that, under the circumstances, finally doing her in would be merciful, and since he hated her, he preferred to let her suffer through the worst tortures. Candy didn’t want to live anymore, if this was how her life was going to be. 

“N-no m-more,” Candy stuttered, failing hard to be assertive. 

“What was that?” Mr. Hardon mocked. “Oh, that’s cute. You think you have a choice in the matter. You can’t defy me, darling, so don’t even try.” 

“I quit,” Candy said, slightly louder this time. 

“You can’t. I’ll fire Martin,” Mr. Hardon retorted. “I’ll have him blacklisted from every company in this town. Big Corp has a lot of influence, you know. He’ll never be able to find a job again. And when he finds out it’s your fault, he’ll blame you and he won’t love you anymore.” 

Candy wavered, but this time even the threat of losing Martin forever wasn’t enough. She had reached her breaking point. She hated the consequences, but she couldn’t protect Martin anymore, and he would resent her when he found out. She wasn’t strong enough to hold everything on her shoulders any longer; she was being crushed under the weight of her hardships. She was giving up. “You can’t hold that over me anymore, Mr. Hardon. I quit. I’m done. And I’m never coming back.”  

She trotted away from Mr. Hardon towards the opposite edge of his desk. If he refused to help her down, she had every intention of jumping off on her own. She was desperate for an out, in whatever way it manifested. Her spirit was shattered beyond repair. When Mr. Hardon comprehended that she was deathly serious about not coming back, his face twisted into a scowl of pure fury. Briefly, he was too stunned to act. He almost couldn’t believe, after all this time and everything that had happened, that he had finally managed to break her. Her fortitude had been remarkable, truly extraordinary, but he supposed everyone had moments of weakness. Before she could make it to the edge of the desk, Mr. Hardon pinched the back of her shirt between his fingers and dragged her back. 

“Let go of me!” Candy protested, wriggling pointlessly as the Giant lifted her up to his eye level. “You can’t keep me here forever!” 

Mr. Hardon gave her a long, hard look. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say any of that. So I won’t give you any sort of extra punishment. But I will give you some time inside my stomach to think it over.” Candy blanched as he handed her the tiny bottle of pills. 

“I’m not taking any more of those stupid pills,” Candy spat defiantly. 

Mr. Hardon raised an eyebrow. “Really now? Because I’m going to eat you whether you take one or not. Is that really how you want to die? To be digested alive?” Without waiting for a response, he dangled Candy above his mouth and opened wide. He lowered her down into his jaws with a dramatically slow movement. 

“No!” Candy squealed, kicking his upper lip as she entered the drooling mouth below. His gullet gaped open below her like an abyss. His rows of gigantic white teeth stretched above her, draping a shadow over her. She tried to cling to the Giant’s fingers to avoid being dropped inside, but he released her onto his wet tongue and the walls of bone slammed shut around her. Candy hastily screwed open the bottle of pills and downed one before the Giant had the chance to swallow her. Above all else, she feared being digested after experiencing the horrors of his gastrointestinal system so many times. She’d rather be killed in one of Ronny’s sick cat-and-mouse games that die from being eaten alive. 

He tossed her around on his tongue a bit, making her drop the pill bottle as it slipped out of her hands. The remaining pills spilled all over the inside of his mouth. Candy shrieked in fear as she slid backwards and down into his gullet. He swallowed, and she slipped down his throat like a slimy vertical slide, fighting back the whole way down before splashing into his belly. 

Mr. Hardon spat out the miniscule pill bottle and the rest of the pills into his hand. He was relieved to see she had managed to take a pill before he swallowed her, because she was useless to him dead. He needed time to think about what he was going to do with her. He hadn’t intended to break his favorite new plaything so soon. He knew, without any doubts, he couldn’t let her leave work now, no matter what, or else she wouldn’t come back. 

He felt a kick in his belly, and smirked to himself. Despite giving up earlier, she hadn’t lost all her fire yet. He could still have so much fun with her. 

Chapter 40

Chapter 1

[kae-karo]

Hey kae, just wanted to drop by to say I really love your fics! The characters always feel so in character, and I love the various ways you describe things. I was wondering if you had any general tips for writing for beginners? And any tips for writing characters that feel in character? Thank you so much, and have an amazing day!

AWE hi dear this is so sweet omg ????? 🥺🥺🥺 i'm so so glad u feel that way !!! this got long so uhhhhhh most of it'll be below the cut lmao

honestly i think my biggest overall writing tip (both for beginners and anyone, really lmao) is to follow inspiration and just write. write the scene you can't get out of your head, write the thing some song lyric inspired, write the silly situation or dialogue that some meme made you think of, write the heart-shattering angst that spilled out from a 'what if' scenario, just write anything that you're inspired to write. don't worry about the quality of it, just get it down somewhere

fr that's the most critical part of writing, so like. first and foremost, just write. i mean it's the most memed one too, like every other writing meme is abt blank gdocs and managing to get down three whole words and whatever, but like. that's the biggest hurdle tbh? everything else can come after

and in the after part is where u can focus on improving the """quality""" (quotes bc quality is subjective !!!!!!) honestly this is a twofold thing, cause honing both writing and editing skills takes time and that's okay, but as with a lot of creative crafts, it helps to seek out what you enjoy - the authors who write with metaphors you really like, or who describe scenes or characters or clothing or whatever it is in ways that really appeal to you, the ones who write the most interesting or fun or heart-wrenching dialogue, the ones with worldbuilding that feels so seamless or intriguing, the ones that know how to build suspense or craft a really compelling character/relationship arc, whatever it is, work on honing your senses to seek out those specific things in those fics! how are those authors doing it? what word choice or sentence structure or narrative closeness to or distance from the character's point of view gives the perspective you prefer? how are they foreshadowing, if at all? what methods are they using to create the emotions or feeling that you notice?

and honestly figuring a lot of that stuff out takes time and it takes reading!!! which like. probably as a writer you're doing anyway!!! but doing it with some focus and going from 'oh shit i loved that story' to 'oh shit i loved [these specific aspects of it]' to 'oh shit, this is the WAY they did those things i liked, maybe i can try them sometime' is really powerful when it comes to building your writing wheelhouse and shepherding it toward writing you personally enjoy. and i mean this very seriously, look for what you personally enjoy. not everyone is gonna appeal to you, and even some of the 'best' writers are not going to do things in ways that you personally like!!! please don't strive to write in ways you don't like just cause someone else thinks they're great!! there are some incredible writers out there that i just personally don't vibe with their writing style and i don't want to write like them!!! but that doesn't mean they're not good, it just means they aren't for me personally! (and on a side note, knowing what you dislike is also helpful and can point you away from writing tactics or methods that u don't enjoy)

i'll also add that what's probably tricky (as it is for a lot of creative endeavors) is the 'i'm not where i want to be yet' feeling - you know what you want, you know what you're going for, and you feel like your writing hasn't hit that point yet. and this is the hardest piece of advice to take and to do, but like. you gotta just write it anyway lmao. like you have to get comfortable with going 'this isn't what i want it to be yet but i'm going to write it and i'm going to be proud of what i've done even if it isn't perfect'. and maybe that includes posting if you're planning to post stuff !!!! post the stuff that isn't perfect !!!!! i'm so so serious about this btw like. get comfortable with writing stuff (and posting it) if it's not perfect. this is critical. it will never Be perfect but that's not the point the point is to have fun while you're doing it and work on guiding yourself toward writing you enjoy even more as you go

cause like (and this ties back to my point about seeking out things you enjoy while reading and analyzing how they're accomplished by other writers) the more you enjoy what you're doing, the better it will be. this is just. like. a genuine and sincere fact, if you are having a good time with it, it'll be fun to read. so aim for that feeling and you'll be in a good place, i promise

as for writing characters more 'in-character'! i'd say this has two key parts, the first half is just dipping a toe into their canon dialogue, canon experiences, interactions, etc. having a good general sense of their character can help pave the way for the 'in-character' feeling!! if it's helpful for you, it can be nice to put some thought into a brief summary of the character in question - i'll use kaeya as an example, i often focus on his tendency for keeping his cards close to his chest, the internal battle with honesty and revealing anything personal, and his outwardly carefree attitude as some key goalposts when i'm writing. and sometimes there are others that are more relevant to specific stories i'm working on, or some of the goalposts can change or be less significant to a story, but i generally aim for having a few key markers that allow me to set up the second half of the 'in-character'-ness

the second half then being motivation - basically, once i have my character staked out, i want to figure out how their motivation in this particular story fits within those goalposts. and sometimes it doesn't completely fit, or the goalposts it fits in are different from what i originally was considering! or there's some aspects that get a little less important based on the motivation in a specific story! but the key i think to really making a character feel 'in-character' is consistency - do their motivations make sense for how they're being portrayed? cause at the end of the day (and some people may feel slightly different about this but i think it's a good rule of thumb if 'in-character'-ness is a concern) there's never going to be a perfectly in-character character, right, like the whole point of fic is that you're putting them in New situations that didn't happen in canon lmao. but if you can convince me that the character, with their motivation influenced by these key goalposts of their characterization, would do or act or think a certain way, that is what truly makes a character feel 'in-character'

and the way this manifests would be something like, a couple really straightforward examples:

kaeya choosing to hide a wound from the knights because he doesn't want jean or lisa or anyone butting into his shadier interactions because they might get hurt, and he can handle himself (playing on his evident care for others in spite of his cool attitude, his typical carefree facade, and his desperate self-reliance)

kaeya threatening someone for scaring klee (leaning into his darker and possibly dangerous side as well as his protective nature, especially toward klee)

kaeya battling with some fallout of his khaenri'ahn ancestry coming to light (playing on his facade and its possible fragility, his uncertain relationship with his past/his family, and his history with diluc the night of their fight)

ANYWAY all of that to say that motivation based in key points of a characterization can be extremely effective in convincingly painting a character as 'in-character'

also in a broader sense, and depending on how 'close' to a character's perspective you want to be (i'll just add that i prefer to be as close to a character as possible, so if you're more a fan of writing omnisciently, this might not be as helpful!!) it helps to think about how a character might think or speak in a broader sense beyond just exact dialogue/etc?

like, a good extreme example would be zhongli - he tends to speak with a more archaic or formal vernacular, especially when compared to childe, for example. depending on the scenario, childe might use some more formal vocabulary (ie around the tsaritsa), but it doesn't seem as likely that his internal monologue would feel super formal

another extreme would be writing from a kid's pov! they aren't likely to use huge words or complex sentence structure (take a look at klee's canon dialogue from the event!) and their metaphors/analogies might be a little different from an adult's or a teen's

all of that really just helps put the cherry on top of a convincing characterization though! i personally don't find it particularly offputting to a characterization if the internal dialogue is a little different from what i personally would imagine or assume lmao

PHEW okay all of that said i will do my lil tl;dr which is:

WRITE oh my god write!!!! follow your inspiration and put words down somewhere!! do this as much as you feel inspired to do so!!! (and take breaks!!)

HAVE FUN do whatever u gotta do to make it an enjoyable time!

READ stuff from writers you enjoy, and practice picking out the things that seem to contribute to what you enjoy

BE CONVINCING with consistency between a character's motivations and the things you're painting as key parts of their characterization in a story. 'convincing' beats 'perfect' characterization every time i promise

HAVE FUN seriously i'm saying it twice cause it's so important if you're writing and it doesn't feel fun, take a step back and consider what about it would make it more fun. then do that instead!!

tyty for the ask dear and i hope this helps!! <3

[broadcastbabe]

After a slow walk home from dinner, we adjourn to your home office. You are still dressed in a casual suit, having dispensed with your tie before we went out. Your request for my thigh high boots and a dark dress was a no-brainer. The boots bring me almost eye level with you when we stroll, so you are prone to affectionate nuzzles and kisses…and lewd murmured promises to ponder during dinner. Snatching my panties from me before we walked out the door, is always a welcome ritual that promises dessert will be served twice, once at the restaurant and upon our return home. You have a few items to clear from your desk, so you ask that I seduce you away from them, as best I can. It’s the prelude to sex we challenge each other with that always has a sure-fire ending. I kneel on the soft couch and pull the thin straps from my shoulders, knowing our frolic will undress me further as we progress. I hike the skirt up in the back and like a cat lower myself to all fours, languid and slinky. You watch as you sign papers, and absently file papers into folders… quickening the tasks to complete them and give me your full focus. I turn slightly to show you my cleavage and the weight of my full breasts bursting at the neckline. There is already a tingling between my thighs as I think back on your words of sensual oaths to plunder me speechless and ruin me in new creative ways. Just the feeling of my flimsy skirt sliding to reveal my darling derrière’s flesh excites me. I raise my rump higher to speed the progress. Your eyes widen as I stretch to lower my torso. When we make eye contact I am instantly wet, as if my body knows you cannot resist and will find the moist pulsing target that much more compelling. You inhale deeply to consume the pheromones wafting in your direction and touch yourself to gauge the growth behind your fly. Your groan is low and sexy… and predatory. I whimper with anticipation, knowing that signals the tone of our interaction. I am soon to be taken in strong determined hands bent on devouring me. “Thirsty?” I murmur softly, hoping your delay will end and I will be properly probed, first with your slithering tongue, followed by the magnitude that grows in your lap. “How about you, baby, you look parched…” I am groaning now, licking my lips and wondering about your rare veiled offer. In most scenarios, I am on the receiving end of this type of foreplay. “Don’t tease, darling, you know my hungers are insatiable.” I ache for you inside my throbbing wetness, but will welcome this detour if you’re so inclined. “May I see your dessert menu?” You smirk and pull your zipper downward at a glacial pace, fueling my impatient desire for following through. When the full length springs forth, I gasp, reflexively, imagining its girth inside me and how gloriously it will stretch me deep and wide. You stand to allow your pants to drop to the floor. Stepping out to stride toward my expectant quivering body, you take yourself in hand to stroke the length. The anticipation in my mind is having a profound affect from the vision alone, and I remark how I am dripping with desire. “Hmmm, baby I know, let me help with that…” Stepping behind me, you guide yourself along the drenched folds to swab me, offering a grazing friction that drives me quite wild as I swell in response. Up and down, you nestle your stiff handful for maximum effect to arouse and taunt me beyond my need to be breeched. “Please, oh gawd, please.” Instead, you step out from behind me and offer up your glistening probe to my panting lips. “Taste how wet you are, baby…” dragging the tip around my lips as if applying lipstick, I lurch to latch on and pull you inside my mouth. “Yes, that’s it, quench yourself with your own delicious flavor.” I am familiar with my taste, having suckled on your fingers after they have gathered samples… but having it served up this way adds another level of bliss. I look up with gratitude and moan dreamily from the delectability. Your eyes roll from the sensations as I draw it further towards the back of my throat. Soon enough it tastes like you again and I become totally invested in making you cum. You cradle my face, adoring my randy intent and slowly extract yourself to tease my need yet again. I protest, until you transfer yourself into my juicier void with a swiftness to finish there. The thrusts are steady and extreme, pushing me to a new shivering state, clenching for my supreme influence on you. Your low gratified groan becomes a growl as you demand I cum with you. “Now, baby… now…” Properly triggered, inside and out, I do and we scream in unison from the interconnected teleportation, shuddering for what seems like a continuum of forever. Collapsing onto the couch together, you ride out my aftershocks inside me, cooing your primal pleasures into my ear like a lullaby. Your lingering insinuation inside me coaxes another and another until my body exhausts itself and I drift into a shallow nap of full contentment under the weight of your warm body.

[rons-wheezely]

224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him. 

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.” 

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is. 

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once. 

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…” 

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.” 

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile. 

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love. 

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films. 

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you. 

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?” 

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you. 

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Conference Room

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | Bucky gets a surprise when he realises that things that were looked down upon, and people were often disgusted by in his day and age, are wanted in this one.

Warnings | includes smut, blowjob, cum facial, Bucky being an insecure bb, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Everyone filed out of the meeting room, one by one disappearing into the maze of the compound. Bucky watched you with tender eyes, slowly following behind, as you headed for the door.

But instead of passing though the threshold, so that you could make your way on route to the kitchen, in order for you prepare yourself a well deserved drink after sitting through the small conference, you closed the door, and pushed down the latch.

The action itself made Bucky stop in his footsteps, and fix you with a confused expression. He wasn’t sure why you had locked the two of you in here. Only moments ago you had been on a group call with Fury, and now that he had signed off, all of you had been free to leave.

But that freedom that all the else had fled feebly towards, served a much different price to that for which you specifically had in mind for him. “Sergeant Barnes, I think the two of us need to have a little talk; our ears only.”

Bucky gulped, remaining upon the spot that he was stood in. He racked his mind for reasons that you would want to do this here, and not in one of your bedrooms. It would only make things more difficult for when he left the scene, heartbroken by you cutting him off, and finally pushing him away.

It was inevitable that it would happen somewhen; but it was too early. Things were finally running smoothly, he felt content and happy, and as though he were making a good difference to the world, which is all he ever wanted. However, it appeared that all of that was about to come tumbling down at his feet, in the same very moment.

The two of you hadn’t been dating too long, just short of three months. And during that time, the pair of you had never once gotten obscenely intimate. So in your case, as he viewed it, you really had nothing to lose. But he couldn’t pin point as to why you were dressed in a sly smile, and creeping ever so steadily towards him as though you had a surprise.

“Doll.” He spoke softly, thinking that it would be the last time he had the opportunity to describe you with that pet name. From the way that he addressed you, your expression quickly became more innocent and happy.

As you got closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss upon his material covered chest. “Baby.” You greeted him, moving to his lips next, and pressing a fluid peck upon them.

“What are you doing?” He unsurely asked, his voice cracking in the meanwhile, and his face scrunching up into a confused frown. Your hands rubbed down his chest, and plucked the band of his trousers, over again in a repeated motion.

Sucking your lip into your mouth, you looked up into his sky blue eyes, reading them for any signs of him being affected by your actions. Rather than feeling aroused, it seemed to make him confused, which was not at all your intention.

“You seemed tense Buck.” Your hands raked their way back up to his shoulders, soothing any apparent tightness that were held within his muscles. “I thought maybe... I could help loosen you up.” Fluttering your eyelashes at him, Bucky lightly groaned, rubbing his lips together as he mulled over what the pair of you could possibly get up to in this room.

His hands went down to the button of your jeans, but lightly, you slapped his hands away, doing the same to him, and undoing them. As your fingers toyed with the zip that helped the denim be adjustable to his size, your other palmed him through the blue material. “This is about you James. I want to make you feel good.”

Again, he swallowed his own saliva, he paid the utmost attention to your every movement, completely compelled with how you tossed your hair to the side by simply moving your head. “You want me to suck your cock, I promise I’m good at it.” A giggle erupted from your mouth, and Bucky clasped your chin in the feather light grip of his vibranium hand.

He pulled your lips to his, warming them up before slipping his tongue inside. It had been a long time, though he hated to admit it, since he had done anything even slightly sexual, and a part of him was afraid that he wouldn’t last long.

But the other was excited, back in the forties , blowjobs weren’t often digressed. The idea had always appealed to hun, however no dame had ever wished to dirty their knees before him, and take his sufficient length down their throat. It pained him a little, knowing that like most people he had encountered through his life, that they would take from him, but never return it with an ounce of kindness.

He’d perceive it as a dream come true, the woman that owned his entire heart, independently wanting to pleasure him in such ways that were looked down upon in his day. “Are you sure?” He pulled away, desperate for some clarity on the matter.

“Yes, of course I am.” You smiled, drawing him in for another locked lip session. After a minute or two of tasting his tongue, you trailed your direction down, running down his chin, and then his neck, until you completely dropped to your knees, rutting your hand against his growing cock.

Right then, from that image alone, Bucky swore that he would die. That innocent expression that was entailed upon your face had him mentally cursing, and he couldn’t help but groan to himself in a relaxed manner as you pulled his jeans down to his ankles, leaving only his boxers as the final barrier.

Lightly, you pressed a kiss to where you guessed his tip to be through the cotton, gently running your tongue down the shaft, and lower down to where his balls were stationed. “Y/n, please stop teasing.”

“Tell me Bucky.” Your fingertips cascaded up and down his v line, warming him up to what was to come(pun intended). “Have you ever been sucked off before?” His heart rate picked up, as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“How did you- that punk!” He said in reference to Steve, realising that he must have let the detail slip to you. But he couldn’t be made really, if the captain hadn’t digressed his secret to you, then he may have waited longer to experience the enthralling and dirty, as it had been known to be, engagement.

Without any pressure, you pressed your teeth upon his cock, dragging his attention back towards you. “Now that is no way to talk about your dear friend, I’d say he did you a favour.” He was getting ready to grumble in his Bucky manner, but was hit with your gasp as you suddenly pulled his boxers down, his dick slapping upwards, having your entire focus.

Reaching forward with a hand, you wrapped it around the mid section of his shaft, your palm hardly fitting around his girth. “It’s so big.” You gaped at the sight, moving your hand up and down to gouge a reaction out of the super soldier above you. His head leant back, his eyes screwing shut as he realised just how sensitive he was. He felt like a virgin all over again.

An obscene and loud moan was pulled from his mouth as you ran your tongue up his shaft, humming at the taste of his intimate skin. With the encouragement of his lie noises, you directed his tip towards your lips, rubbing it upon the cushioned flesh, before sinking him halfway in your mouth.

“Holy fuck!” He exclaimed, reaching down and on instinct entangling his metal hand in your loose hair. As though you were doing nothing, you innocently looked up at him with wide doe eyes., although he could feel you hollowing your cheeks around him, as you began to bob your head.

Only then did he realise how experienced you must have been within this department, for he noticed how you didn’t struggle nor gag the slightest around him, and it appeared that you were enjoying it as much as he was.

One of your hands planted itself on the thickness of his thigh as your other found homage with fondling his balls. His chest rapidly moved as he felt every slither of your tongue around him, and as you pulled slightly back, you began dipping it in the line of his slit.

“Baby, slow down, or I’m going to cum.” With his words heard, you took him out of your mouth, wrapping your hand around his saliva soaked rod, and began pumping him rapidly. For a moment, he swore his head was going to explode as he saw you stick your tongue out, awaiting his load that was soon to be delicious.

“Cum Buck. Want you to cum for me.” It was impossible for him to hold back any longer, and thus, his seed flew over the expanse of your tongue, whilst the rest spurted over one side of your face. “Hmm.” You mumbled, swallowing that of it that you caught, and scooping a swipe into your mouth.

“I swear to god that I’m in love with you.” He spoke breathily as you stood up, both of your faces flushed from the activity. He pulled you in for a few pecks, to which you could do nothing more than stare into his oceanic pools.

“Well that’s encouraging.” You laughed, reaching down and tucking his softening cock back into his boxers and jeans, giving it a loving pat before pulling away. “I love you too Bucky Barnes; always.”

“The conference room though, really?” He asked with a bemused laugh, causing you to shrug. “You’ve got to walk out of here now.” He said, motioning to the mess on your face.

“That is something that I didn’t think of.” You responded, your eyes darting a around the room, until your eyes landed on the box of tissues that Tony had brought in at the start of the meeting. Thank Thor for his cold! “Grab me some paper towels from the corner would you babe?”

He sent you a pleased, and you’d say very satisfied smile, before stepping back, and heading in the direction of the desk, picking a few sheets out of the cube, and walking back to help you clean up. He felt like he at least owed you that much.

[goingmorry]

Heey!! How would be jealous sex with Ace and Shanks? pls

I love your writing💖

OP Boys -> fucking you when they're jealous

Characters: Ace and Shanks

Tags: NSFW, female reader, jealous sex, PIV, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, dirty talk

Author's Note: It's Nasty Sunday, y'all! 👁👅👁

PORTGAS D. ACE

"Ace, gods—" you swallow the accumulated saliva collecting in your mouth, throat bobbing in mild discomfort, "Y–you're being—" another gasp from you, another thrust from him, "Too... rough!"

"S-sorry, babe. Got a little carried away."

Pace faltering, his warm hands rest gently on your hips while you set the tempo, deliberately riding him with the sole intention of milking him of every last drop afforded to you.

It started out that way for a while, at least.

Now, in the throes of passion, the slow and steady pace as you lower your cunt onto his demanding cock does little to curb his growing need to possess you. Taking matters into his own hands, Ace grips the back of your thighs to pull you forward toward him. Collapsing onto his hard torso, you feel his muscles ripple with the effort of fucking you into oblivion.

"P-please, baby," he begs in your ear, voice raspy and desperate, "Don't think of anyone else... when you're with me."

Flush against his bare chest, he peppers kisses onto your swollen lips, wildly thrusting into your sopping core from below. You can't help the pleasurable screams that fall from your lips, compelling him to continue his relentless onslaught on your delicate body.

"Y-you're mine," he says, more for his own benefit than yours, to convince himself that you want to be his, "And no one else's."

You let your mouth do the talking, tongue battling against his own for dominance. For a moment, Ace lets you win, accepting your passionate assault like a starving man, knowing full-well that you're the first to surrender from the overwhelming sensations of your lovemaking.

As if on cue, you buckle into his touch, the slapping of his balls against your clit reverberating loudly across the bedroom, making you delirious with pleasure.

Feeling how close you are to cumming all over his hard length from his possessive words, you cry out over and over again, conveying your longing for release, "K-keep going, Ace... Please!"

Unbelievably aroused by your frantic pleas, his cock begins to pulse in response to the wet slickness of your tight sheath.

It's the powerful fluttering of your walls that does him in, a clear indication of your orgasm wrecking the entirety of your body from head to toe. Head thrown back in fierce abandon, Ace paints your insides with spurts of his essence, filling you up to the brim with his seed.

Riding out your aftershocks, you slump on top of him, breathing heavily from exhaustion. A few minutes pass by in silence — you basking in the pleasant feeling of soreness spread throughout your thoroughly spent body — before Ace chimes in, voice laced with salacious intent.

"Ready for round two?"

SHANKS

"You're attracting too much attention these days, sweetheart. Looks like you need me to remind you who you belong to."

His right hand insistently presses against the back of your head, dragging you toward the front of his crotch. Eyeing the prominent bulge in his trousers, cock straining to be free from its confines, you slowly lick the sudden dryness of your lips.

His eyes darken at your lustful expression, hand tugging against your silky locks to urge you on, and growls, "You look good like that. On your knees for me."

"I'll look even better with your cock in my mouth," you say unabashedly, hands snaking across his waist to pull down his pants in one swift motion, freeing his erection.

His cock is thick and heavy against your palm — base wide enough that you can't fully grasp him — but you make do. You give it a few tentative pumps, earning a low and approving grunt from your lover.

Spurred on by the tightening of his grip in your hair, you replace your hands with your mouth, licking the base of his shaft to the tip before engulfing the soft head in your wet heat.

You've always had trouble with taking him all the way in, your tiny mouth struggling to accommodate his massive size. Slackening your jaw to make room for him, you settle on a slow but steady rhythm, fucking him over and over with the suction of your plump lips and the seductive curl of your tongue on his sensitive head.

Shanks is a sight to behold, crimson hair slick in sweat and falling past his nape, dark eyes blown wide at the overwhelming feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat with every thrust. When you take him in deeper and deeper, his mouth slightly parts in ecstasy, unable to restrain himself from showing you how good you make him feel.

All for your eyes only.

To be able to reduce Shanks — a man well-known for his strong composure and charismatic nature as one of the Four Emperors of the Sea — into a primal beast, concerned only for his release, is enough to make you moan in wanton desire, the dampness of your underwear making you squirm desperately in search of friction.

In your admiration of his sinful display, your pace stutters, causing your normally patient pirate captain to grip your throat in warning.

"Didn't say you could stop, darling."

He tightens his hold on you, taking control of your mouth by dragging you forward and backward on his pulsing length. Voice muffled, you moan at his unusually rough handling of you, the vibration of your voice going straight to his cock, sending pleasurable shivers to course through his tense body.

"Oh, baby," he coos, "You like choking on my cock like that, don't you?"

You don't respond — you can't — surrendering to his control as he continues to pound his dick against your throat in harsh erratic strokes. Losing your balance, your hands grip his thighs for comfort, fingernails digging into his warm flesh in retaliation.

You let him take you the way you want to be taken.

The way you're meant to be taken.

"Fuck..." he moans, louder this time, "Look at you. You're taking me so well."

The vision of you — completely helpless, cheeks tinged rosy pink, eyes glazed over in desire, and on your knees, for no other man but him — sets his blood on fire.

It's only then that his orgasm hits him hard, hand digging into the smooth expanse of your neck as he shoves you impossibly deeper into his cock. His white, hot essence spills directly into your craving mouth, and you let his seed linger there for a while, savoring the salty taste of him before swallowing every last drop.

Eyes flashing dangerously, an unspoken vow for a long night ahead, his smirk is mischievous as he insistently pulls your thighs apart, revealing your neglected sex for him to do with as he pleases.

"I'm not through with you yet."