#stop pretending its a problem with this one in particular

[sosei]

"Locked Tomb fans read another book challenge"

My dude the reason I even found the series is because I follow their publisher. Which I do because I read other books they publish and want to stay up to date.

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] the corsican heat causes very particular problems for charles. part of the hot monaco nights series.

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), a lil hint of plot, use of explicit language, fingering, brief p in v, mention of oral (f!receiving), google-translated french (i cannot be stopped), we're pretending charles can legally drive a boat this size, em dashes, time is a social construct

a/n: you guys wanted to know what happened in corsica, so here's the start to that story. also giant mega jumbo thank you to @lecrep for help with a wonderful plot point which i will not spoil—hehe! enjoy, bbys! xx

You weren’t sure what Charles had to promise Pascale to get you two alone, but somehow he managed it.

It was the summer break of the ‘22 season, and you’d been dating a sweet six months since he’d first kissed you as the clock struck midnight on New Year’s.  It had been a small enough party, about thirty or so close friends and their partners—even a few kiddos, to boot.  What neither of you knew that night was that half of your shared friends had been scheming to get you two together; despite excuse after excuse about why one of you couldn’t go on a date, finally they’d been able to get the two of you in the same room.

Now, months later, you couldn’t imagine life any differently.  It made you think of the future, about forever…

No, you stopped yourself when you found yourself daydreaming, forcing yourself to stay in the moment.  You didn’t want to put too much pressure on it, put too many expectations on what was awaiting on the other side of that question.  It made everything easier, lighter.

Charles, on the other hand, was head-over-fucking-heels for you.  He’d always been a romantic, but something about you—the way you touched him, the way you looked at him, the way you kissed…he found himself easily thinking of his future with you, and he didn’t try to stop himself.

Granted, the way you looked in your sundress as you boarded the boat for a day along the Cosican coast, how could he think of anything but you?  The white cotton fabric against your new tan, the short skirt skimming over the tops of your thighs in the most tantalizing way.  Thoughts of the dress rucked up around your waist with his head between your legs and hands palming your perfect breasts under what remained of your dress filled his head, eyes glazing over and cock stirring in his trunks.  You were trying to kill him, he concluded, and he was as good as dead.

What you had underneath didn’t help anything either.  Once he’d gotten you both out to a private little cove and he’d dove into the water to escape the heat of the late morning sun, you decided that it was time to lay out for the afternoon; your master's program had kept you busy enough over the past couple months that you still felt all-too-pale even with your newly-acquired tan.  (Not to mention, you swore he kept you up half the night with the way he would pull your hips flush with his own and plant soft, searing kisses on the bare skin of your shoulders and back—you needed the rest.)

Peeling the white sundress over your head and discarding it on one of the padded benches, you’re left in a baby blue string bikini that he swore got even tinier since he’d seen you prancing around inside the villa before you’d left for the marina.  Face half submerged, Charles’s hazel eyes watched you like a predator watched its prey as you laid out on one of the cushions on the bow’s sun deck with a book in hand and sunglasses perched on your nose.

He grumbled to himself in broken French as his mind swam and blood rushed from his head to the appendage between his legs.  He’d been practically insatiable the past few days, his hands always finding a bare strip of scorching skin where he could get ahold of you before his lips and pouty eyes could take care of the rest.

Thirty minutes passed like that, the Monégasque puttering around in the water before he finally gave in to the siren call.

Padding up the steps from the teak swim deck at the stern of the boat, you could hear as he stalked his way to you, but you kept reading regardless.  That was, until you felt a pair of lips pressed to the small of your back, just above the waistband of the aforementioned bikini.  It drew a hiss from your lips and a slight jolt as you felt Charles’s cool wet skin press against your legs and his hair dripped onto your mid-back. You whined his name, setting your book face down.

“Oui, chérie?,” he asked in a low voice as he continued pressing heated, open-mouthed kisses up your spine until he was at the juncture between your neck and shoulders.

“Baby you’re cold,” you tried to explain as he sucked a mark into the delicate skin of your neck, your head sagging down and away as you bared your neck for him, “and you’re wet.”

He hummed into your skin, and you could feel the smirk at his lips as the cushion dipped beside one of your hips.  You turned onto your side as one of his hands wove itself into the hair just behind your ear, and his lips found yours again as they always seemed to do.  But this wasn’t a tame peck, an innocent little kiss—there was heat and tongue and your head was sent spinning off into the abyss as you felt your tummy do that telltale flip while your eyelids felt ten thousand pounds too heavy.

“You are too, ma belle,” Charles teased in a low voice, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide.

Again, a pitiful sound slipped from the back of your throat as his head dipped down to find your neck once more and one of his hands slipped under one of the side ties of your bikini bottoms.  “That’s beside the point,” you tried to rebut before he kissed you again, this time pulling the tie undone completely.  Oh, how he enjoyed silencing an argument like that…(Meanwhile, you thought it was playing dirty, but you’d allow it—for the storyline of it all, at least…no other reason—absolutely none…)

“Je peux vous aider avec ça,” he hummed in your ear before pulling your earlobe between his teeth, the deft hand on your hip ghosting over the skin of your inner thighs and causing your breath to catch in your throat.  “Permettez-moi…”

The honeyed words were like a magical salve to all that ails you, to all the remaining doubts that his kisses hadn’t cured from your mind; you hadn’t had much restraint before, but whatever iota you had remaining was sapped the moment his lust-lidded eyes met your own.

You nodded your head, and that was all the bastard needed as he smirked like the cat that had just gotten away with eating the canary. “So stubborn,” he chided playfully as he pulled one of your legs over his hip and the two of you settled into the cushions in full light of the blue skies above. Thankfully, he didn’t tease you too much as he took to sliding his calloused fingers over the damp velvet of your folds, drawing a soft whine from you like a confectioner pulling taffy in the window of one of the boutique shops you’d seen in Ajaccio.

Your eyes closed once more, head finding the crook of your partner’s neck as he drew the pad of his middle fingers in lazy circles around your pearl and the searing heat of his mouth found yours again.  He swallowed every little sound you gave him when he finally sunk two thick fingers into your soaked cunt, curling them against that spongy spot deep inside you.  Stars burst behind your eyes at the sensation and your hips bucked in search of more and more and more.

“Charles—,” you whimpered his name pitifully, brows knit together as you concentrated on that tight burning coil in the pit of your tummy that pulled tighter with each stroke of his digits against the velvet heat of your walls.

“Such a good girl f’me, mon ange,” he praised quietly as your hips canted in time with the movement of his fingers and soft sounds of your pleasure melted into the water that lapped at the side of the boat.  You weren’t going to last long like this, not with how sensitive he’d made you from his voracious desire to have you falling apart for him every moment he had just enough privacy to do so.

“Gonna—fuck-I–,” you stammered as your thighs clamped around his hand and your body tensed around him like a rubber band pulled taut.  Your eyes rolled back and strands of sweat-curled hair stuck to your forehead and nape, your mouth falling open in silent screams of pleasure.  Something snapped in the depths of your core, legs quivering while warmth washed over all of you and your toes curled against the back of his calf.

“Tellement belle,” he cooed as he nursed you down from your high with slow, feather-light strokes over your swollen bud, “I’ve got you, chérie.”

Slowly, as you came back to earth from your climax, you watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. He knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled in you once more, the wet heat of his mouth meeting your own as you tasted the salt of yourself on his tongue.

Pushing him away so you could catch the breath he’d stolen from your chest, you rolled onto your back as your shoulder ached from how you’d held yourself against him.  With an arm over your eyes, you could feel the smoldering embers in your belly reignite—you needed more.

“You’re evil, you know that?,” you teasingly mocked as he pulled your half-undone bottoms off your other leg. Charles wasn’t done with you yet, and you had a few ideas of your own now.

“I think I can live with that,” he shrugged smugly as he sat between your legs, trunks pulled down just enough to free his aching cock.  Stroking himself one, two, three times, he smeared the precum over his length before sinking into your depths with a hiss and a slew of French curses that always managed to go straight to your pussy.

Within only a few thrusts, though, he was stalling and readjusting.

“What’s wro—oh!,” you yelped in surprise as he lifted you then, first onto his knees and then onto his feet before taking you to the side of the boat and perching you onto the railing. You could hear the warning bells in your mind start to ring, but you still felt like a pile of jelly from your first orgasm to the point that you weren’t in much of a place to argue. Still, Charles could see the hesitancy in your eyes, feel it in the way that you clung to him.

“Je t’ai, je t’ai,” he reassured with a strong hand on your hip and another guiding one of your arms around his neck.  You nodded, trusting he had tight enough hold of you.

But oh how that trust was misplaced…

The angle from which he drove into you was almost too good to be true—if you’d have been standing, your knees would’ve buckled at the very sensation.  And given the choked groans in your ear, you knew the Monégasque felt the same way, too.

You closed your eyes for just a moment and then suddenly you were plunged into a dim coldness that enveloped your entire form, a stark contrast from the simmering heat of your boyfriend’s body.  Thankfully, your instincts reacted faster than your conscious mind, and you emerged at the surface after only a moment under the waves.

Just as your head broke the surface, a large splash came down just next to you before familiar hands were finding your skin—first at your ankle…then your opposite calf…then your hips and small of your back.

This dumb motherfucker lost his grip amongst the sweat and sunscreen and slick of you and sent you over the side of the boat into the crystalline waters below.  It was only a seven-foot or so drop, but still, the point stood: he did not, in fact, have you.

A shocked and incredulous look took over Charles's face as he sputtered and stammered, trying to think of something—anything—to say that would make sense of this disaster of a sexcapade.

You, on the other hand, simply laughed.  You were fine—shocked, no doubt, but fine nonetheless.

“You’re so fucked,” you laughed as you wrapped yourself around him once more as you knew there was no meaningful way he could drop you now—you were not making the same mistake twice.

“Je suis foutu vraiment désolé, chérie—I-I thought-I,” he stammered, still falling over himself to try and explain the whole thing before you took his flustered face in your hands and pressed your lips together to shut him up once and for all.

“I’m fine, baby—I’m okay,” you soothed, resting your forehead against his.  You could feel his heart pounding in his chest pressed to your own.  Slowly, he seemed to come back into his body, into his coherent thoughts as the fear and adrenaline of the whole snafu began to fade.

“However,” you started, leaning back from the man, “I will expect some heavy groveling tonight.” You smirked, a slight mischievous twinkle in your eye.

“‘Groveling’?,” he asked in confusion, “I do not kno—”

“Ne t'inquiète pas,” you teased with a knowing grin, “you’ll figure it out, baby.”

And figure it out he did as you came for the third time that night, pushing his head away from your oversensitive cunt as a chuckle rumbled through his chest and over your sweat-slicked skin.  You were scrabbling away over sheets now damp with your sweat and release, whine caught in your throat as Charles tangled a hand in your hair at the nape of your neck to pull your mouth to his own in an absolutely fucking filthy kiss that had your rubbing your thighs together like a damn cricket.

“Charlie,” you whimpered as his hand pried your thighs apart once more with your chest still heaving from your last orgasm.

“I thought you wanted me to grovel, mon cœur,” he snarked as his teeth worried into that same spot between your neck and shoulder as before, tongue soothing over the blossoming mark before he ducked his head further down.  You keened for him petulantly, hips bucking momentarily as his plush lips wrapped around a taut nipple.

Still, he looked up at you as he released your nipple with a wet pop, and his hazel eyes met yours in earnest.  “Do you want me to stop, chérie—enough for tonight?,” he asked, knuckles gently brushing over your cheek and pushing your now-dampened hair away from your face.  You could feel his cock, hot and heavy against your sensitive thighs, and you would’ve had the dignity to blush if it hadn’t been for the fact that you’d probably let him do just about anything he wanted to do to you.

“No, I just—,” you started pitifully before a sharp cry of surprise left your lips as he tugged you firmly by the ankles closer to him once more.

“Good, because I’m not done with you yet, minette,” he half-groaned with that stupid fucking smirk on his lips while pressing against your quivering entrance before he bottomed out in a single press of his hips that made your eyes roll like a pair of marbles on a tile floor.

You were so incredibly fucked. Literally and figuratively.

final note: i now have a sideblog for my writing, @velvetsainz-writes! follow me there for fic recs, inspo, & all things related to my writing!

[hyuckiefluff]

Hey so I hv request! Really love the way you write♡ ok so mark is on adrenaline high frm the concert and is really touch starved and really just wants to fuck his gf! Established realtionship y/n and Mark, feel free to add your magic, thank you!!!

a/n: thank u for the nice words and for sending in this req!! this is exactly what i needed to get back into the mood cuz i’ve (once again) been neglecting my writing lol but anyway when i read this the first thing i thought of was quiet down hence the pic :)

ps: requests are still open btw (still got a lot of them to go through but feel free to send in more) i usually do them in order of which one inspires me the most so even if you send rn i might get to it first!

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

content warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex, slight choking, brief mention of blood, mark is sex starved so he goes a bit crazy, ass groping, handjob (m. receiving), cum eating yeah ik ik i keep writing this but i can’t stop sawry, big c0ck mark!! barely any prep or aftercare (they don’t have time!!!) basically just a messy & needy quickie backstage.

masterlist

Mark was losing his mind. 

Why?

All because you placed him on a week-long sex ban in an attempt to prepare him for the upcoming tour. He knew you were just trying to help him adjust to being away from you, but it felt like torture.

Everything was fine at first, or at least Mark was doing a great job pretending. But as the first week neared its end, his resolve started to crumble. Today, in particular, he was extremely horny for no reason.

...Well, he actually did have a reason and it was the picture you sent him this morning, wearing the new underwear he had gifted you  'They fit perfectly, Markie ;)'.

And as if that wasn’t enough, you showed up to his show wearing his favorite skirt—the very one you knew he always fucked you in. He wasn't sure if he was just thinking with his dick, but it felt like you were trying to push him to his limit.

Either way, it was definitely working, because when you leaned in for a kiss, he caught a glimpse of your underwear in the mirror's reflection and and he had to fight against every part of himself to not moan right then.

To make matters worse, you were still wearing the black lace panties he had gifted you.

By the time he stepped on stage, he was already painfully hard. What kind of pervert gets turned on in front of an audience just because his girlfriend accidentally flashed him? Well, apparently, Mark Lee did.

But he didn't care about looking like a desperate, sex-starved fool. 

So as soon as the VCR started playing and they had to change outfits, he made a beeline for you backstage. Ignoring the protests of staff and confused band members telling him he only had 10 minutes to get ready he grabbed your arm and pulled you through the crowd.

“That’s more than enough time,” he muttered under his breath. Despite your persistent attempts to ask where he was taking you, Mark didn’t stop until you were hidden away in a dark, secluded corner behind the stage.

"Mark, what's going on? Are you okay?" You inspected him with concern in your eyes, checking for any injuries.

"Ah...fuck... I have a really big problem," he groaned.

"What's wrong?" But you quickly understood the issue when he pulled up his shirt, revealing the growing bulge in his pants.

You tried not to laugh, but the way he looked like a child in need of help was too endearing. "Aw, did I do this to you?"

"It's not funny," he protested, suddenly invading your personal space. "I need you to fix it." His forehead pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your sides and gripping your hips to press you firmly against his body, your lower abdomen coming in contact with his hard on.

"Of course, baby" you replied, ready to kneel down, but he stopped you by grabbing your arm. You looked at him confused, and the stage lights cast an angle that highlighted his pleading eyes. They were glossy with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he murmured, his voice strained and raspy.

The idea of having backstage sex at his concert with just about seven minutes left before he had to return to the stage felt crazy. But there was something about it that turned you on beyond explanation.

So, you cupped his face and kissed him hard enough that your teeth clashed with his lips, but not even the slight taste of blood stopped you from devouring each other’s mouth. Mark quickly matched your intensity, his tongue wasting no time exploring every corner of your mouth. Every time he nibbled on your lips, it elicited little gasps from you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, pressing you firmly against his bulge, a clear reminder that he was about to explode down there.

You started to undo his pants, the friction of his erection against the fabric made him suck in air through his teeth. He broke away from your lips, allowing you to pull down his pants. His boxers were already stained with pre-cum, and when you lowered them, his dick looked at you flushed and angry. You bit your lip, his size always made you clench your thighs in anticipation.

Before you could even touch him, he turned you around and that’s when you realized you were pressed against one of the glass boxes from their performance.

"Mark..." you moaned his name when you felt the tip of his dick at your entrance. There was no time for much preparation so when he slowly pushed his hips forward, a string of curses left his lips at the tightness.

"Fuuuck..." he groaned when your walls clenched around him relentlessly. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you leaned against the box for support

“God, you feel so good” His hands gripped your hips, and you felt his lips kissing your shoulder before he whispered that he was going to start moving. You nodded weakly.

His pace started out slow, but there was an undeniable urgency in each motion. His hand moved from your hips to your neck, gripping you softly and pulling you closer with every deep thrust. His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, and with every kiss and nibble, you couldn't help but clench around him, making his hand close tighter against your throat. This pattern continued for a while, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Please..." you whimpered, and he grunted softly against your neck.

"What do you need, baby?" he asked.

"More, please, I need more," you moaned, feeling his grin against your neck.

He wasted no time. His thrusts quickened, and you couldn't help but release soft gasps and moans with each movement. You leaned forward against the box, your breath fogging up the glass, feeling it tremble beneath you as he continued fucking into you harder. Mark was losing himself, or perhaps he already had; he was rutting against you as if he was an animal in heat.

"M-mark... I'm close," you mewled, not sure if he even heard you amidst the loud cheers.

"Mhm, me too," he moaned, his voice strained. 

It only took a few more thrusts and you were spent, moaning and mumbling incoherently as he helped you ride your orgasm.

 "Fuck, it's gonna be messy if I cum inside you," he realized, slowing his movements.

He was right… he wasn't wearing a condom so as soon as he pulled out, it would definitely drip down your legs. And there wasn’t anything nearby to clean you up with.

"Pull out," you said, and you could see his confusion from the corner of your eye. Nonetheless, he did as told. His hand was already on his dick, ready to take care of himself, but when you knelt down, it was as if his body glitched momentarily.

Your hands replaced his, applying just the right amount of pressure in your strokes to evoke that familiar sensation building in his gut. You looked at him through your eyelashes, your makeup slightly smudged from tears and sweat. The sight was incredibly hot, and just when he was about to cum, you opened your mouth, catching all of his release. Some of it trickled down your throat. The whole scene, along with the sounds you made while swallowing, had Mark almost in tears from the sheer intensity of the moment.

After swallowing every drop, you stood up, adjusting your panties and casually licking a remnant from the corner of your lips, all while maintaining eye contact with Mark. He watched you in stunned silence, still catching his breath. You chuckled when he remained frozen for a good 10 seconds, pulling him close gently and zipping up his pants. In that moment, you heard his voice.

“Please come on tour with me,” he begged, his eyes wide with hope. You just smiled and kissed him.

“Where’s Mark?! You guys are up in 2 minutes!” The staff's frantic shouts pulled you both back to reality. You exchanged a glance and burst into giggles like a pair of teenagers.

i think i might be shadowbanned guys so interact with this post if u enjoyed it pls <3

[notjustjavierpena]

Siggy, the real question is pls get some more pregnancy joel…..bc tempers has me feeling some type of way 😮‍💨🥹

The Making of Ellie - Part IV

A/N: Ask and you shall receive, anon ❤️ Hope it is worth the wait. 

Summary: Your libido has increased since getting pregnant. Joel doesn’t have a problem with indulging you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni!), teasing, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, pregnancy sex, bit of fluff, intense orgasms, handjob, come-eating, desperate and whimpering joel is a warning in itself, the tiniest use of daddy.

Word count: 2.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Libido

Since entering your third trimester, your libido has increased significantly. It is to the point where you feel painfully hot and bothered throughout the day, having described it as an itch that simply won’t go away no matter how much you scratch it. You’ll cross your legs, bite your lip, flush pink and be short of breath just by catching a glimpse of Joel, and he’ll be on you as soon as humanly possible. In short: You just want to, and you do, fuck all the damn time. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, in the hallway, once on the staircase, car. 

Joel is happy to oblige, at least inside the four walls of your shared home. Sarah has completely fled the house at this point; despite it starting with your temper tantrums, her distaste for being home was really set in stone when she walked in on the two of you in a compromising position. 

“Dad, I’m really happy for you and all, but Jesus Christ, I’ll be home again tomorrow,” she’d said, and now, she comes home for dinner and to pack her soccer bag. He lets her. She’s practically grown at this point, and he’ll see her when she needs him, he knows this. He has made it a habit to text her goodnight too, and she always responds quickly with a heart emoji.

You on the other hand are a whole different story. You are always in close proximity to him, circling him like a goddamn cat who does not want to admit its attachment to you and waiting to strike for the right moment to get attention. 

Joel is emptying the dishwasher, a thing that he has made clear is his job after the incident, when he spots you out of the corner of his eye. He smiles to himself and pretends not to see you, continuing his work on getting all the mugs into the cabinet above him without crushing any of the million amounts of snacks you have hidden in the back. 

You move closer. He watches still, catches the way your skirt flows as you walk to stand on his right side. You grip the edge of the kitchen counter, leaning against it and eyeing him up. 

“Hey babe,” you say, tapping a finger on the front of the kitchen cabinet. 

“Hi honey,” he replies nonchalantly to make you work for it. He starts filling up the dishwasher too, causing a microexpression of frustration and confusion on your face. 

“Do you wanna do something together?” You suggest. 

“Sure, when ’m done here.”

“How about now? Skip the cleaning up thing?” 

“Is there anythin’, in particular, ya wanna do?” He acts oblivious. He goes to wash his hands, “Somethin’ that can’t wait?”

“Well,” you say with confidence, “Wouldn’t you rather get with—“

You push your hands down onto the counter to lift yourself up onto the kitchen table, but the act is hardly successful; you’ve become too stiff to do it, and it ends up a lot less sexy than Joel assumes is your intention. You try again, but you can’t get your ass onto the table, round belly in the way of being flexible enough to be seductive. 

“Hold up,” you furrow your brows, trying your act again and using your legs to kickstart the jump off the floor but yet again to no avail, “I can do this.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel says, one hand resting on his chin as he hides the urge to laugh out loud. He clears his throat to cover up a chuckle. 

“Stop,” you snap at him as you catch him actually laughing at you. He tries to suppress it, but when it bubbles up in his chest without his control, you become stubborn, “No, no, just wait.”

You struggle for a few moments more whilst Joel bites his cheek to keep you from getting upset. Eventually, you groan, “A little help here?”

“Sure,” Joel stands in front of you. He pushes on the soles of your feet the next time you try jumping, giving you the boost you need to perch yourself on the surface. 

“Now,” you brush non-existent dust off your skirt, gesturing to yourself afterward. Joel thinks you’re adorable, “Wouldn’t you rather get with this than clean the kitchen?” 

Joel sends you a smirk, “After that whole display, I’m actually not sure. Can you jump down and do it again so I’m certain?”

“Joel,” you bite, crossing your arms over your chest. He doesn’t know if you purposely squeeze your fuller breasts together or if he is just a dog, but he cannot help himself from staring. You catch him doing it, “Great. So you can stare at my cleavage, but you can’t touch me?” 

Joel says your name. You ignore him. 

“Have I not been paying ‘nough attention to ya?” Joel tuts in the softest voice, closing the distance between you to stand in between your legs, “Is that why you’re actin’ up?” 

You pout at him so prettily, arms still underneath your tits and fingers tapping on your elbows. It turns more fun when you don’t reply, gaze dropping after it becomes too intense to stare back at him. Joel loves this little game, can feel his cock twitch in his jeans and threaten to strain against the zipper. You look past his shoulder, chewing on your bottom lip with a sort of pained restlessness. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Joel continues. He reaches out to place his palm on your round belly, rubbing soothingly as you continue to ignore him in your attempt to repress a tantrum. He knows you get angry and frustrated when you don’t eat, but after getting you pregnant, he has discovered that you react the same to not getting fucked on the regular too, “‘S not right for me to tease ya like that.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, placing your hand on top of his in a gesture of reconciliation, “Think you should make it up to your baby mama. She’s going insane, you know. Only you help.” 

Joel can feel his cock start to harden already. It is so easy for you to rile him up these days, hearing you talk about how he has ruined anything else for you. He is the only one to save you from this torment, and luckily, Joel likes to be useful. 

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Joel’s hand on your stomach slips down and then up under your skirt. He glides his fingertips along your inner thigh, watches you struggle to find the words as his digits go further north until they rest right by the fabric of your underwear. He can feel the warmth radiating from your core.

“Uhh,” you say as your mind fogs. Your legs automatically spread for him.

“This?” He hooks his thumb underneath the damp fabric right at your center, “Jesus, you’re so wet, baby. I’m so sorry. If you’d just told me, I would’ve—“

“Just touch me, stop talking, and—” you whine, scooting a little further towards the edge to give him more access, “Don’t have to worry now.”

Joel’s thumb settles on your clit and presses down lightly. It causes you to say his name desperately, the back of your head knocking against the kitchen cabinet when you crane your neck back. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Joel asks. He stops temporarily while you reach up to touch the back of your head. Though instead of wincing, you start giggling and Joel cannot suppress his own laughter. 

“Keep going,” you egg him on, “I’ll be more careful.”

Joel decides to pull your underwear to the side instead, so he can sink two fingers into you. You let out a shaky breath, “Oh, fuck. That’s just what I needed.”

Joel’s thumb is on your clit again. He fucks you on his digits slowly, searches for your g-spot for only a second before rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. God, the way your face goes slack. You absolutely love it. 

The wet squelches of your cunt are obscene enough to get him painfully hard in mere seconds too, combined with the feeling of your walls fluttering with your climax building.

“How the fuck are you so soaked?” He asks in disbelief. 

“May have pregamed,” you admit in your blissful state. 

“What?” Joel doesn’t stop what he is doing, but he slows down until he has almost come to a halt. 

You find his gaze with a frown, “Don’t stop.”

“I haven’t… pregamed?”

You squirm a little and try to move, but Joel places his free hand on your belly to stop you, “Tried to take care of it myself. Didn’t fucking work, okay? The angle is all wrong.”

Joel cannot believe his ears. He lets his hand go up to grab your chin and then starts fucking your cunt with his fingers in earnest. You cry out softly, holding his gaze intensely. 

“You find me, okay?” He puts on the voice that always makes you shut up and nod, “I don’t care what the fuck I’m doing. Say you wanna come and I’ll be there.”

Just like he predicted, you simply nod at his words. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and he marvels at how you are barely able to connect your fingertips when your hand is in a fist around it. He loves you. Sweetest little thing he has ever known. 

“Gonna be a good girl and come f’me?” He smiles devilishly when your breathing indicates that you are close. He lets go of your chin and splays the palm on your chest to feel your rapid heartbeat, “Make those legs tremble f’me?”

He curls his fingers upwards to torture his favorite spot inside of you, and then you are coming around them with fast pulses of your walls. He watches your thighs twitch once and then twice before actually shaking violently, making him wonder how long you’ve involuntarily edged yourself before finding him. 

“Fuck, Joel, Joel,” you gasp in a very particular way, and Joel quickly removes his fingers from your cunt to see how a wet patch forms on your skirt from how you gush repeatedly as your climax reaches its peak.

It doesn’t even matter that it’s in the fucking kitchen, because the pride that he feels at making you squirt knows no bounds, and he cannot help the boyishness in his chuckle, “You’re fucking amazing.”

“Holy fuck,” you groan as you come down from your high. You rest your head against the kitchen cabinet again, this time without knocking it roughly into it. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Fantastic,” you sigh contentedly, “Just gimme a sec. Take your pants off. I wanna do something nice for you before I go take this stupid skirt off.”

“Baby, you don’t have to,” he reassures despite how his dick hurts by now. 

“Pants off, Miller,” you commandeer. 

Joel follows through without further hesitation. He makes quick work of undoing his jeans and shoving them down with his underwear, grunting at the friction along his hard cock. 

“Look at you,” you say with a pout, “Poor baby daddy.”

You reach out to grab a hold of his cock, watching the bead of precome that threatens to drip down from the tip. Running the pads of your fingers up and down the shaft teasingly, Joel lets out a relieved moan at finally being touched but it only lasts for a moment because nothing escalates. 

“You said something nice. This ain’t nice, sweetheart,” he tells you with a groan, squeezing himself further in between your legs to get closer to your smug expression. You swear the precome over the sensitive head and both of Joel’s hands fly to the kitchen counter. He places them flat against the surface, “Really not gonna say anythin?’

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head, eyes still glazed over with your post-orgasmic bliss but now also sporting an innocence that drives him mad. You start stroking his dick, fist tightening around his girth and he can feel himself pulse in your hand.

It feels fucking great as you drag your palm over the skin again and again, but something clicks in Joel’s head when desperation hits. Fuck, he wants to come.

It would be impossible to make his body listen to him right now as it feels disconnected from reality and control. He tilts his hips, looks down at where you’re touching him so expertly, and then fucks himself into your tight grip. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say in disbelief but never falter. If anything, you manage to squeeze enough to make it a tighter fit without hurting him, “Fuck, you’re so hot like this.”

“Fuck,” he swears loudly and speeds up his hips. One of the hands on the kitchen table comes up to grab a cabinet handle, knuckles turning white as he strains to chase his orgasm. 

When the rubber band at the base of his spine snaps, Joel stills his hips. Your hand hesitates for a second, but then the first rope of come spills over your hand and you milk him for every drop he has in him. 

Joel hasn’t come like this in a while; always empties himself sheathed inside your soft cunt, but when you praise him absentmindedly as he comes, he finds that he might become partial to it. He pants through the almost painful clenches of his lower stomach and balls. 

When he whimpers at the over-sensitivity, your hand stills completely. Your free hand strokes his cheek with the back of your fingers, “You good? Talk to me.”

It takes a beat to find his bearings once more. His hand plops down onto the counter again. He mumbles with exhaustion coating his voice, “Alright. ‘M back.”

He thinks you’re as spent as him, but with your remaining energy, you lift your hand from his cock to lick his come off the back of it with the flat of your tongue. He groans, “Dirty girl.”

“What? It has vitamins,” you tease, giving your hand another kitten lick, “Unfortunately not D. Should’ve been vitamin D.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. He struggles a little with his balance as he gets dressed again, blood still not having fully returned to his brain. He gets the paper towels and helps you clean up, but you just look at him with a dazed smile.

“What?” He questions.

“You better fuck me like that tonight,” you muse.

“You know what to say, and I’ll be there. No pregaming,” he replies simply and helps you onto the ground again, “Now go change, momma.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

.

.

.

.

@elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sunnywithachanceofjavi @strang3lov3 @hellishjoel @littlevenicebitch69

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[streets-in-paradise]

The Cheer Factor - Eddie Munson x (Fem) Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Eddie malfunctioning when the reader wears thight shirts. Also, most of this oneshot ignores canon events.

Summary: A dissapointment with the fitting of your Hellfire shirt frustrates you and you are too caught in your self conciousness to notice Eddie won't stop looking at you.

Notes: For my dear fríend Luna, fic inspired in one particular plus size girl problem we share. We brainstormed this idea together and i gave it full form here.

Tags: @losersclubisms

Maybe it was an issue of being the only girl in the group, guys didn't seem to mind about that sort of thing. Nobody ever pointed it out since you joined Hellfire, so you just pretended to ignore it.

The club shirt you were wearing was not the size you would usually go for, there was a problem with the fitting you discovered only after trying it on. It wouldn't be the first time that sort of thing would happen to you. You would typically wear baggy-looking oversized shirts for a reason. Many ' easy to stretch' shirts with the ríght fit have been defeated by your voluminous torso before. One of your personal favorites, that you got in the biggest size available at the store, would cover you barely down the belly buttom.

You still felt cute on that one, but you wished the fabric wouldn't get irredemably stucked in your tits on its way down. It was uncomfortable and frustrating, specially when you could tell the shirt could have been a good fit if it wasn't for that detail. That was the case of your Hellfire one, too thight in the chest because it wasn't oversized enough.

Admitting that you felt too fat to wear it was too embarrasing, so you hoped it would just stretch with time of use. Eddie was the onlyone who heard your initial complains after the first try on, but he would insist on reassuring you because he was your friend. You guessed he didn't want to hurt your feelings pointing out the truth when you asked, telling you over and over that it looked perfect everytime you would suggest to change it.

For so, you kept it despite remaining skeptical. The encouragement of your handsome friend inspired you to do it, since you enjoyed it peraphs a bit too much.

However, you couldn't see that his words were the purest truth born from the rawest deepness of his being. He was in love with your body, blessing the mistake making you stop hidding it. The tightness of the fabric enhaced your natural curvy shape and he was convinced that the club's logo had never looked better than it did in your chest. More than once he got distracted looking at you, but somehow managed to hide it through some pathetically improvised jokes. Luckly for him, you never seemed to notice because his overall quirkyness would confuse you.

In school you were mostly covered with leather or jean jackets, but things were different during the first of his campaigns you were involved in. The long hours invested in playing would make you toss any insecurities aside and as the time would pass you would take off all extra layers. From his privileged spot in the game table he would get to see your movements reflect your emotions and would never remain completely inmune to the sight. Joy causing you to jump on your seat a little bit, or anticipation making you lean over with your arms pressed against your tits would get his attention even if you didn't intended it.

It was one unexpected way to make things more interesting, his already high energy would increase for the gorgeous new player cheering him through charming beauty. Eddie had one new reason to look foward Hellfire time and he appreciated it despite how delightfully tortuous it could be. He would be drooling, but burying the evidence in shame because you were friends and he didn't want to ruin it with his lustfull admiration.

However, it was only a matter of time until someone would ruin the delicate balance of misunderstandings allowing him to cover his tracks. The youngests of the group, new additions coming some time after you, eventually did it. 

They just wanted your help. 

“ We have terrible news … and it’s about Lucas.” Dustin was whispering to you at a prudential distance from the group, in a pleading tone. “ Eddie is going to kill us, please help us to soften the impact of the bomb.” 

You had a vague idea of what he meant, aware of his friend’s involvement in the basketball team. 

“ What makes you think he would go easy on me? Sorry, Henderson. If you piss him off there isn’t much I can do.” 

He was terrified, or otherwise he wouldn’t have made that suggestion.

“ Take off your jacket in front of him as we speak.” 

Mike was almost as horrified as you, but the pure desperation made him actually consider it as a possible last resource escape tactic. 

“ To be fair, we have overcome hardships thanks to your tigh shirt before.” 

You could have killed them before Eddie would, if it wasn’t because they somehow validated your perception. 

“ IT WAS TOO SMALL! I KNEW IT!! “ You cheered yourself, completely ignoring their issue for an instant. “ Back when I joined Eddie insisted it was perfect and nobody ever questioned him.” 

Caught up in your thoughts as you were, you completely ignored the implications in their comments. 

“ Thanks for being honest, boys. I will talk to him later, maybe a private conversation would work better to make him favorable to your purpose.” 

At least you tried so, but he began to ramble about fighting a cultural battle that needed loyal soldiers as soon as you brought the issue. His crusade against popularity was bigger than anything and he clearly interpreted it in a very all or nothing way. Despite you were understanding of his viewpoint, you promised the youngsters to intercede in their favor and you did your best. 

“ No offense, Eds, but sometimes you can be full of bullshit. “ You cut him off. “ And with that I mean you are not being strategic, not even from a military standpoint. The enemy nation is stronger than us and with better socio-cultural resources, we can’t beat them by force. Our way should be subtle cultural infiltration, to get them like a parasite corrupting their structures without their acknowledgment. Sinclair could be the key to start a secret invasion and we should encourage his double filiation instead of contributing to its destruction. If one of us mixes with them, the cultural exchange could benefit our public image.” 

Although nicely articulated, the speech didn’t convince him much. 

“ We don’t need their validation, our level of underclass is way beyond that.” 

“ They define the legitimate practices of the school environment, we have to cause an impact in their culture if we want to redefine the rules. “ You corrected, amazed for how well you were pulling that argument.

Maybe you would have done well at debate, although you clearly weren't that good because your conclusion missed the point speaking more of you than of your defended ones. 

“ The kid has the highest chances for that, it’s not like I can try to set bridges with the cheerleaders. They hold the beauty standard and I don’t even fit in my own uniform.” 

Aggressively pulling down the fabric of your shirt in a comically pointless attempt to make it fit as you thought it should didn’t cause the wanted effect. He wasn’t laughing, the anger became frustration as he attentively observed your struggle. 

Eddie raised up to grab your hands and stop the mistreatment by himself. 

“ You are challenging conventionalism, that’s why it looks so well like that. Conformity would be hiding your freaking amazing body in a tent-shaped shirt hoping the world won’t notice it’s different.” 

You felt called out, but also very shocked by the direct meaning of his words. He sounded exasperated yet somewhat seductive and there was no mistake understanding it that time. 

“ You mean it’s cool that I’m doing that, or you actually think I’m pretty?” 

For him hearing you was very frustrating, he wondered how many years of social indoctrination had you endured to end up so blind to the beauty driving him mad. 

“ Of course you are pretty!” Eddie insisted, a soft glimpse of desperation in his tone as he said it. “ You are our pretty girl, we are all lucky to have you among us and you make me the happiest. Since you are up for cultural translations, you bring the cheer factor to the club.” 

The response got you more confused than the phrase itself. 

“ You looked very cheerful to me from the very same day I met you, it’s not like you need me to cheer your campaigns.” 

“ I need you more than what you could ever imagine.” He interrupted you, regretting the double meaning later.” You, my friend, possess all the virtues cheerleaders affirm themselves in on the foreign culture. You are positive, a team player, enthusiastic, dedicated and beautiful. What you bring to the table is the closest to cheering that Hellfire will ever have. "

Your silly giggling made him smile, satisfied with the outcome of his partial confession. However, he wasn’t expecting you would be trapping him in a frontal hug. 

“ Eddie, you are so sweet!” You whispered to him in gratitude. “ That’s the nicest thing I have ever heard! How did it occur to you?” 

His capacity for thinking was completely blocked by the sudden sensation of your body gently pushing against his. 

“ You are an unlimited source of inspiration, sweetheart… Wanna know something more I have been thinking?” 

Your eyes were back at him, head nodding affirmatively as you awaited for it. 

“ You know, cheerleaders are pretty girls doing acrobatics while wearing short skirts and guys in the crowd go insane about them while they cheer for their jock boyfriends… It’s basically a power display reinforcing the hierarchy… Do you promise me you are not going to hate me if I continue?” 

Your smile reassured him to close his point. 

“ The power those girls have in their short skirts, you have in that tight shirt, and you are ours. “ 

His glance was locked in your chest and the heat in your face became unbearable. 

“ Eds… My eyes are up here.” 

“ I made my choice…” 

The chuckling he caused made him aware you were enjoying the attention and that only encouraged him to escalate laying his head on your chest. 

“ This is the most comfy pillow I have ever tried, I could fall asleep like this.” 

His goofiness allowed him to get away with it, you were very pleased following his jokes and enjoying every instant of his praise. The most obvious outcome of your fortuitous talk was witnessing a great confidence boost in your attitude leading to unimaginable consequences. 

The whole table went dead silent when you saluted Chrissy Cunningham as she passed by in the cafeteria and she responded to you kindly. When confronted about it, you simply said you have been approaching her asking for advice because you were working on how to translate the moral principles of cheering to the club’s language and she didn’t mind indulging your respectfull curiosity. 

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Be a Doll (my Vox/reader AU)

Cw: Manipulation, mind control, power imbalance, Vox being a little shit

This is a brief example of how the dynamic goes in this AU, and it’s more put together than my original post on it. For those who don’t know, I’ll give a brief summary of how this works.

Vox is incredibly manipulative, possessive, harsh, and abusive here! He is not a good person in this AU.

This isn't meant for kids! Anyone who is sensitive to or may have a negative reaction to these topics should stop reading now.

Vox possesses a potent hypnotic ability, manifested through the swirling black and red patterns that engulf the sclera of his left eye. With a mere glance, he can plunge individuals into a trance, rendering them obedient to his will. While this ability is primarily used to assert control over his surroundings and manipulate those around him, Vox has honed it to a fine art, utilizing it with precision and finesse.

One particular application of Vox's hypnotic power is seen in his interactions with his assistants. Through the use of a trigger phrase, "be a doll" coupled with a simple command, Vox can compel his assistants to carry out tasks without question or hesitation. This trigger phrase serves as a direct link to their subconscious, bypassing their conscious will and leaving them unaware of their lack of control- but only if he wants. Sometimes, he enjoys seeing the pain in someone's eyes as they're forced to do something they rather wouldn't do, so sometimes, he leaves them aware of what's happening and makes sure they know that they're completely unable to stop it.

Moreover, Vox has extended this hypnotic influence to select individuals in his personal life, including significant others. By implanting the trigger phrase and conditioning them to respond to it, he effectively ensures their compliance and obedience in various situations. This manipulation is subtle yet effective, as those under his influence are often unaware of just how deep this power goes until it's far too late.

This is the premise of my 'Be a Doll' AU. Actual short story/example is just below, if you’re interested!

As Vox lounged on the luxurious sofa in his opulent penthouse, he turned his attention to me. I stood nearby, browsing the bookshelf for something good. With a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, he made a decision.

“Darling,” He called, getting my attention.

I turned to him, putting a book back on its shelf. “Yeah? Whats up?” I asked, walking over.

“You know I love you, right?” Vox asked, placing his hand under my chin and lifting my face up towards his.

“Of course,” I said, with a soft smile. I laughed a little, finding this sudden kind moment from him to be odd. I reached over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Or, what would be his cheek if his face wasn’t a flat screen TV. “And I love you, too.”

“Good,” he said with a satisfied nod. His smile grew bigger as he watched me get back up to continue looking for a book to read. “You won’t mind if I try something, would you?” He asked, trying to downplay his request and what he was actually going to ask.

“Depends,” I said, now a bit suspicious. I crossed my arms and leaned against the bookshelf, regarding him in a calculating manner, trying to figure out what he wanted. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing much…” Vox said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It won’t be a problem, doll. Trust me.”

I froze for a moment. That was all I needed to know. “No,” I said immediately, snapping out of my thoughts. Whenever he dropped that word, what came next was inevitable. “No, not tonight, Vox,” I said sternly, trying to stand my ground. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh? But I promise it’s not a big deal,” Vox said, feigning surprise and pretending to be hurt by my refusal. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you, don’t you? You know that I love you.”

I paused for a moment. “I know,” I said, slightly hesitant. “But I still don’t want to… there’s a difference, Vox. I just…”

“You don’t trust me?” He asked, acting hurt and pained. He knew exactly how to push my buttons.

“No, no- I mean- I just-” I tripped over my own words, trying to explain why I was so uncomfortable with the idea. “I.. I trust you,” I said, quieter.

“Good girl,” Vox purred, grinning. He’d gotten me right where he wanted me. “I knew you’d come around. So, you don’t have a problem with me testing something out, do you, doll?”

I hesitated a moment before shaking my head. “I… I guess not,” I said softly. I was upset with myself. Why couldn’t I stand my ground? He’d looked so hurt when I went against him… I didn’t want him to be upset with me. It was simple, a small thing. He said he wouldn’t hurt me, he said it wasn’t a big deal. I had to believe him. I loved him, and I trusted him. There was no reason to make such a big deal out of this, right? It’d be fine. I’d be fine.

"Good. Now, be a doll and come over here," Vox murmured softly, his voice laced with command, as he gestured for me to approach him.

I stiffened slightly, my eyes glazing over and my mind going blank. Without hesitation, I felt my body responding to his directive, moving towards him with a grace and fluidity that seemed almost unnatural. My movements were soft, docile, as if I was a marionette being controlled by invisible strings.

"Be a doll and give me a kiss," Vox commanded, his tone expectant as he leaned closer to me.

My lips met his without resistance, the kiss tender yet obedient, as if I were merely fulfilling a scripted role in a play.

"Good girl," Vox purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He smiled and ruffled my hair playfully. "Be a doll for me for the next five minutes and show me how much you love me."

I sat on his lap, giving him gentle kisses all along his screen. From the edges to the center to below his eyes, each one combined with a whisper of devotion or a sweet nothing. “I love you,” I whispered, kissing the edge of his lips. “I’m nothing without you,” I murmured, planting a kiss near his right eye. “I need you,” I said, giving him a trail of gentle kisses that traveled down to his neck.

“There’s my good little doll,” Vox said with a grin. He tugged on my hair, pulling me closer and positioning me how he wanted. I complied without resistance, letting him move me with ease. “Such a nice, beautiful, obedient little thing…” he murmured. He grabbed my face and gently but firmly tilted it towards his, so I was looking him directly, so he could see the power he held over me reflected in my glazed and distant eyes. A telltale sign I was under his control. A key indicator I was all his.

He knew what he was doing. He purposefully didn’t return a single kiss, didn’t react to what I was saying. He gave me a crumb of praise, a taste of his approval and it left me hungry for more. I was his little doll, I had to make him happy.

With a sense of slight desperation I leaned into his touch, nuzzling my face against his hand slightly. I looked at him, seeming fragile, my expression delicate and perfect, not a single thing out of place. Exactly like a doll. I tugged gently on his sleeve and whispered softly, “I love you, I love you,” my words a plea for affection and kindness in return. I needed him.

Meanwhile, Vox reveled in the absolute power and control he held over me, a smirk playing on his lips as he basked in the adoration and submission he commanded from his little doll.

[friendly-neighborhood-furry]

GOOD AFTERNOON FELLOW ROB ENJOYERS!!

DO YOU WANNA DRAW YOUR FAVORITE GUY? ARE YOU TIRED OF USING THE SAME THREE STOCK IMAGES FOR THAT PESKY STATIC BODY? WOULD YOU LIKE TO LEARN HOW TO ACHIEVE THE SAME EFFECT USING ONLY YOUR PEN AND LAYER EFFECTS?

WELL THEN BOY DO I HAVE A TUTORIAL FOR YOU!!!

IF YOU FOLLOW THE SIMPLE STEPS LAID OUT DOWN BELOW, YOU TOO CAN BECOME CLINICALLY INSANE LEVEL UP YOUR ART SKILLS BY LEARNING HOW TO MAKE REALISTIC STATIC IN THE DIGITAL MEDIUM!!

okay i'll stop yelling at you now. on with the tutorial!

Step One: Blocking!

this is usually part of the coloring process for me, so you'll need a mostly complete drawing to start out with.

now, draw out where you want the static to be with white. the average hard round brush will be good for this step, but you can use whatever you like! i for example prefer to use the polygon lasso tool to get more crisp edges (however this effect can also be achieved with the eraser tool).

for his arms and legs, just outline them in white and color them in.

depending on the pose/perspective you might have to separate certain pieces into different layers. for example, here his left arm and lower torso are clipping through the line art

so we move them to be below the line art layer and boom! problem solved.

important note: you can not use another color for the blocking. the white base color is critical in achieving the most convincing static look!

Step Two: Brushes and Blues

now for this step, we will be using these four shades of blue-grey, as well as plain black and white. for your convenience, the hex codes are also included!

HEX: 1d2427 HEX: 4d5c65 HEX: 899eac HEX: cce6f6

now go to the different brush presets for whatever program you're using. chances are, they'll have some variety of a paint-splatter brush (and if they don't, there's probably a way for you to download one or make your own).

the best kind to use is one where all of the particles are fully solid and not varying too much in opacity.

Step Three: Jackson Pollock That Shit!

now's the fun part! make a new layer and start layering the blues with your splatter brush in any order you like. just color vomit all over your canvas and don't worry about getting any of the particles outside of the base!

go back and re-layer any particular color as many times as you like until you're satisfied.

sometimes, all of this layering can result in loss of the original base color, like you can see here.

but don't worry! this can be fixed by tossing some white back into the mix.

once you're happy with that, go through and lightly sprinkle in some black. remember: a little is a lot! keep it subtle.

Step Four: Layer Effects!

this is where the magic happens! turn your blue splatter layer(s) into a clipping mask!

ka-boom! looks great, right? well, its about to get even better! go into your layer effects panel and select "Hard Light"

Step Five: Motion Blur

now, this step is optional depending on whether or not your program has more than one kind of blurring effect, but for the sake of the tutorial we'll pretend that it does.

find the motion blur panel and open it. set the angle to zero.

(ignore that i had my distance set to 2 here i just needed to have an example screenshot lol)

now crank that shit up!!

if your static layers had to be separated like in our example, make sure to do the same amount of blurring there as well. depending on your preferences, you can change the level of distance to highlight some kind of feeling. having it at 2 allows the viewer's eyes to rest on the darker colors, but having it at 7 brings out the brighter colors, calling attention to how annoyed he is with me right now.

depending on how you mix the different colors and level of blurring, you can get a lot of different variations in the static's look. feel free to experiment with it!

Step Six: Glow (optional)

unless you're drawing a dark/low-light setting, you can skip this part entirely. again, for the sake of the tutorial, lets pretend its dark!

now, since its supposed to be super dark here, i've selected the base layer for the static and deleted the black from it.

now for the fun part! make a new layer above the one we just made, then take the lightest blue color and cover the static with it! in the next step, this will become your glow!

i like to use a typical hard round brush and then apply a gaussian blur until i think it looks appropriately blurry, but you can also use your average pressure-opacity airbrush! both have their strengths, which you'll see in the next step!

for this step it helps to already have some knowledge of how light interacts with objects, but its not required! if you don't have a lot of prior experience, take this as an opportunity to practice! take it from me, making fan art of specific things is a great way to get good at drawing in general.

once we have an appropriate amount of glow and blur, we set the layer mode to Linear Light! your program might not have this layer mode, so try to find a mode that does something similar or is close enough

here you can see the strengths i mentioned before!

in the areas where i used the solid round brush + gaussian blur, i had a bit more control over how concentrated the light was at the center and how far it could spread, making it look more artificial/computerized.

meanwhile in the airbrushed areas, there's a very different vibe! on the right side where i applied the airbrush harshly in one stroke, it has a sort of cloudy look, but on the left where i applied it in multiple strokes, the varying opacities create a more painted aesthetic, which adds a lot of visual interest!

now we have arrived at the final step of this process! go to the current layer's opacity box and lower that sucker!

you should raise/lower this meter depending on how dark it is. Keep messing with it until it feels right. for our specific example(and more specifically the gaussian blur areas), a good opacity level is 73% !

and with that, we're done!

thank you for reading this! i had a fun time putting it together :)

before you go, please know that you don't have to follow every step of this to the letter!! feel free to break away from my methods and do your own experiments! mess with the hue of the static colors, use different brushes for the glow lighting, add variation in your particle sizes - go crazy with it!! half of art is experimentation and i wouldn't even have this process without it! :3

if you end up using this tutorial for Rob art on tumblr, please tag me in it!!! i would be absolutely overjoyed to see whatever you make :D (not a requirement though! either way, i'm very proud to have put this out into the world)

if you need help with any of these steps or the process in general, feel free to reach out in the replies of this post or in my ask box! i'd be happy to help out with whatever you need :3 thank you for reading this and i hope you have a wonderful day!

[erikahenningsen]

cadina 97!

97. “It’s not that easy.”

Regina really thought that going to college halfway across the country would fix her... problem. She left and went to Columbia; Cady stayed and went to Northwestern. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Well, apparently, wrong.

Somehow the torture of seeing Cady practically every day was nothing compared to the torture of not actually having any idea where she was, what she was doing, or who she was talking to. If she was at her desk doing homework or if she was out with some guy getting coffee and laughing about natural logarithms or whatever.

And now that she and Cady are in the same room—well, backyard—she physically cannot stop herself from staring.

"Hey girl."

Regina jumps as Damian drops into a chair beside her.

"Hi," Regina says. Across the yard, Cady is talking to Kevin and Gretchen. Her hair is twisted up in a way that shows off her cheekbones. She looks beautiful.

"You ever gonna tell her?"

Regina looks up sharply to see Damian looking at her shrewdly. "What?" she asks.

Damian gently pats her hand. "You know what I'm talking about. Don't pretend."

Regina feels her cheeks heat. God. She really thought she had kept this thing under wraps. She looks away and doesn't say anything.

"Have you ever talked to her about it?" Damian presses.

Regina grits her teeth. "About what?"

"Oh my god, Regina," Damian says exasperatedly. "You've been sitting here for half an hour like you're Therese at the Frankenberg's counter."

"What?" Regina asks, confused. "Who?"

"That's not important right now, although you not understanding that reference is indicative of a larger problem," Damian says dismissively. "I've been watching you watch her for three years now. It's honestly kind of sad."

Regina sighs, internally admitting defeat. "It's not that easy," she says quietly.

"What is?"

To Regina's horror, Janis has come to join them.

"Telling Cady Regina likes her," Damian says, and Regina briefly considers throwing her drink in his face and fleeing.

"Oh, yeah," Janis says, then snorts. "Don't look at me like that, Regina. Either tell her you're in love with her or get it surgically removed. It's weird and exhausting for you to just be staring at her all the time like a creep."

Damian shoots Janis a look. "What Janis means is that you deserve to be happy."

"Uh, no, I did mean that the staring is creepy," Janis says, and Damian makes a shooing gesture at her with his hand.

Regina tips her head back and looks up at the sky, shades of pink and orange swirling as the sun makes its last appearance at the edge of the horizon. "You guys are the worst people I know," she says.

"I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Janis says, pressing a hand to her heart.

"It doesn't even matter," Regina mutters. "She's straight."

At this, Janis barks out a sharp laugh before clapping her hand over her mouth.

Regina narrows her eyes. "Why is that funny?"

"Does she not know?" Damian stage-whispers, which Regina finds particularly annoying since she is sitting right here.

"Know what?" Regina demands.

"I don't think—" Janis cuts herself off and shakes her head. "It's not my place to say."

"What isn't?" Regina sits up, giving Janis the most intimidating look she can muster, although Janis only seems amused by this.

"Regina, honey," Damian says, placing a hand on her arm. "Just talk to her. She might be more receptive than you think."

Regina again gazes out across the yard at Cady, catching her eye. Cady grins and waves, and Regina halfheartedly waves back. A dozen thoughts and emotions swirl inside her, but one in particular starts worming its way inside her brain, banging against her skull. Something she has never let herself feel since the day Cady walked into the cafeteria their junior year of high school.

Hope.

[daresplaining]

hi! long time admirer of your blog! is there any particular reason why matt (specifically) pretends he's dead when something goes fucked up in his life? is it as a result of trauma or a past experience 'cause i have yet to figure it out myself. thanks in advance! hope you're having a wonderful day!

Hi, and thank you!

That's a really interesting question. To my memory, Matt has never psychoanalyzed himself on-panel about this, so I suppose it's up to us.

The short answer is that each faked death tends to be tied to the specific circumstances that surround it, as well as Matt's state of mind at the time, but there are noticeable patterns. (I'll do a quick run-through of The Deaths of Matt Murdock, but here's a more comprehensive (though not quite up-to-date) overview for anyone unfamiliar.)

His earliest faked deaths were more about pragmatism than anything, and had to do with protecting-- or simplifying-- his secret identity. His very first, of course, was "killing" Mike, which he presented as just being a matter of convenience. The Mike identity, while fun, had outlived its purpose and was starting to cause Matt trouble in his relationships with Karen and Foggy, in addition to just being a tiring logistical nightmare. (Also, Mike was cooler than Matt and that just wouldn't do.) There wasn't much forethought to his decision, he just encountered a situation in which Daredevil (Mike) would be in danger and suddenly thought, "Hey, what if he died?"

Matt (thinking): I just thought of something! ...The nuttiest idea I've ever had! But, if I can pull it off...it'll end my triple-identity bit...forever!" Daredevil vol. 1 #41 by Stan Lee, Gene Colan, John Tartaglione, and Sam Rosen

Matt's second faked death came about when supervillain Starr Saxon discovered his secret identity. This threat to his double life brought out feelings of resentment that Matt had been harboring toward his civilian identity since issue 1. In these early years, in an effort to hide his powers and superheroics, Matt turned his mild-mannered alter ego into an exaggerated caricature of a blind person, played at being helpless, prevented himself from acting on his feelings toward Karen Page, and dialed down his personality. He believed that this was necessary, but he also hated it and found it stifling. Added to this was his overall bitterness toward the ableism he had experienced since his accident, and the sense that the world around him viewed him as helpless (Matt mentions in an issue shortly afterward that his least favorite sentiment is pity). Thus, at this point, he saw the Matt Murdock identity as a prison, and the Daredevil identity as liberation, and so he grasped at the idea of faking his (Matt Murdock's) death not just as a way to counter Starr Saxon's threats, but also as an opportunity to finally rid himself of an identity that he actively disliked.

Matt: "My problem isn't Daredevil--and never was! It was always Matt--the blind lawyer--the hapless, helpless invalid! He's been my plague...since the day I first donned a costume! Then, let Matt Murdock no longer exist!!" Daredevil vol. 1 #53 by Stan Lee, Roy Thomas, Gene Colin, George Klein, and Artie Simek

Fortunately, Matt largely got over this resentment after he stopped putting his different identities into such rigid boxes. He does occasionally give up one or the other of his identities from time to time, but we don't see him actively killing an identity out of hatred again. Which is...certainly a positive sign in regards to Matt's overall mental health.

Instead, in the decades since the Starr Saxon incident, Matt's faked deaths have tended to revolve around two vital needs: the need to escape from something horrible in his life, and the need to protect his loved ones. Sometimes it's more of one, sometimes it's more of the other. In the Nocenti/JRJR run, Matt screws up real bad by cheating on Karen Page (at this point still recovering from her drug addiction and very fragile) with Mary Walker. Matt gets nearly killed by Typhoid Mary, wakes up in the hospital and learns that Karen has discovered his treachery. He finds himself at a crossroads, hating himself for the betrayal, hating the violence in his life and the seeming futility of everything he does, and feeling unable to cope, he abandons his civilian identity, vanishes from the lives of the people who know him, holds a symbolic "funeral" for Matt Murdock, and runs off upstate.

In the Chichester/McDaniel run, Matt ends up with a convenient body double in the wake of a major secret identity scare and decides that it would be best to fake his death in order to protect his loved ones. The only person who knows he's still alive is Maggie, his mother, because Matt goes to her for name suggestions for his new civilian alter ego (she ends up suggesting "Jack").

Maggie: "Oh, Matt, thank god you're alive!" Matt: "No 'Matt', Maggie. Not anymore. That's become a dangerous name for anyone too near to me." Daredevil vol. 1 #325 by D.G. Chichester, Scott McDaniel, and Christie Scheele

After becoming a full-on supervillain in Shadowland, Matt again decides that it's "for the best" if his loved ones think he's dead, and he vanishes off to New Mexico. In this case, the only people he allows to know the truth are Elektra and Ben Urich. Then there's Matt's memorable, utterly bonkers deal with the Kingpin in the second volume of the Waid/Samnee run after his, Foggy's, and Kirsten's lives have been ravaged by one supervillain attack after another:

Matt: "My offer is this: You guarantee the safety of my people, and the identity bell gets unrung. Think of it as a perverse twist on witness protection. Everyone--Foggy, Kirsten, everyone--will be told I'm dead. Meanwhile, you'll give me a new name and identity known only to you. You'll get back the secret you paid for. You'll oversee the plastic surgery so that only you recognize the face. Hell, even I won't see it. Hell, graft the mask to my skin. I won't care." Fisk: "But you'll still be Daredevil." Matt: "That way, you'll always know where I am. How to use me even when I don't think I'm being used. And how to, at any time, take anyone or anything away from me that you don't want me to have." Daredevil vol. 4 #16 by Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, Matthew Wilson, and Joe Caramagna

And then, of course, we have our most recent example, in which Matt coped with the chaos of his recent life and the violent death of his brother by using Mike's corpse as a body double and fleeing the city to go fight ninjas with Elektra.

What's interesting about these faked deaths is the gap between the reasoning that Matt offers himself versus the actual reality of what he is doing. Each time, Matt is convinced that his loved ones will be better off, safer, even happier if they think he is dead. And of course, this is not based on nothing. Matt has suffered tremendous loss, and has brought great pain into the lives of the people in his orbit. He lost his father. He accidentally got Elektra's father killed, and then later had Elektra herself die in his arms. He contributed to the circumstances that led to Heather's suicide. One of his villains killed Glori. Another killed Karen Page, and nearly killed his mother. Yet another put Milla in a psychiatric hospital, possibly permanently. His brother just literally died in his place. Foggy's life has been in danger more times than I can list. Matt's story has a towering body count, and he carries that grief with him at all times--particularly in circumstances when his life is in shambles, when enemies are closing in, and when those around him are in the crosshairs or have just survived being there. Of course Matt would think that everyone would be "better off" without him around. In the purest, most practical sense, he's probably not wrong. And so, when he lets his loved ones think he is dead and tells himself it's for their own good, I do think he genuinely believes it.

But of course, that also isn't entirely true or realistic. Sending the people who care about him into mourning again and again is not protecting them. And when you really look closely, it's obvious that Matt's most frequent reason for faking his death is the same reason he clings so strongly to the Daredevil identity despite the pain it has caused him: escape. When Matt feels stressed, under pressure, unable to think, or powerless, he can always put on that suit and hop out the window. And when Matt's world is falling apart and he cannot cope at all and doesn't know what else to do, he abandons his life. He escapes into a different identity. He leaves. In his head it's for the people he loves, but it's clearly also for himself. And as frustrating as this coping mechanism can be as a long-term Daredevil reader, I also love it for how incredibly human it is.

With all of this said, though, I think the funniest answer is that Matt inherited some kind of when-in-doubt-fake-your-death gene from his mom.

[coldgoldlazarus]

One of the arguments about any sort of long-running media franchises/series, that almost always instantly raises my guard and calls into suspicion anything else the person making that argument has to say, is "the older stuff was better and everything after X point has been worthless dogshit with no redeeming value."

It's not like this is an alien perspective to me, either. I've been there, I get it. Where My Little Pony is concerned, I think I will always be at least a little bit of a seasonwunner, despite my best efforts. But this is a mindset that must be actively fought back against, and even if I can't really bring myself to watch the last few seasons, I recognize it's not that the show got worse, it just had different priorities there than what appealed to me about it originally.

And sure, sometimes stuff does just objectively shit the bed after a certain point. But honestly, I think that happens most when a series stops trying to explore new ideas, and falls back on shallow pandering fanservice about the earlier beloved entries. Looking at you, Rise Of Skywalker.

So point is, I do get where the mindset comes from, but it's still an extremely toxic impulse that I think needs to be confronted and dismantled with maturity and perspective. And talking with people who have failed to do that, and don't seem remotely interested in trying, is my personal hell.

But probably the most baffling instances of this mindset are when someone is like "everything before this point was good and everything after this point is bad!!!" but the actual argument makes no sense. Everything you say you hate didn't start after this arbitrary point, it started with the ones you uphold as the best in the series. If instance Y and Z are apparently utterly dogshit writing, why are you giving it a pass with instances W and X? It isn't even the repetition or differences in execution that seems to be the problem, it's just that it was good because it was before this arbitrary cutoff point, but bad because it was after it! (One especially galling example of this hypocricy was where the cutoff point between the 'last good' entry and 'first bad' one was between two releases... that came out simultaneously. Make it make sense.) Or else just pretending that this thing you dislike started later than it did and outright ignoring its presence in those earlier entries.

Like yeah, you are entitled to your feelings, at the end of the day; like I said, I get it to some extent at least. But if you're going to try to argue your feelings as some sort of objective fact about the quality of the series, at least put together a coherent and internally consistent argument. Or else, really reexamine if the reasons you're giving are the actual reasons, and it's not just nostalgia talking. Maybe the older entries don't hold up to your particular sensibilities as much as you think. Or maybe, you're refusing to give the newer ones a fair shake and reading them in bad faith.

[ithaquasbbg]

I’m back. With a hurt comfort fic (my fav trope ❤️) this is written with my personal interpretation of Joseph, which is explained at the end of this Oneshot :DD !

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Reflection - Joseph x Reader

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Pairing: Joseph x reader

TW: sickness, mentions of death, (slightly) suicidal ideation (barely), insecurity, childhood trauma and just generally a more depressing tone.

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“Joseph, darling, open up” you knock on the door for what feels like the hundredth time this morning. The door is unlocked, you know this, however, the blonde is quite particular about how even you see him in the mornings. As much as you want to respect your lovers privacy, his lack of a response is rather concerning. Its not until you hear quiet sobs from inside the room that you suck it up and enter, locking the door behind you.

Joseph sits in front of the mirror, trembling and frail hands grabbing at his face as he stares at his own reflection. He’s so stuck in this moment that he doesn’t even notice when you open the door, nor does he notice when you sit down next to him. You gently pull his shaking frame close to your own, hands running through his hair as he cries into your chest.

He’s hot to the touch, worryingly so. “Joseph, you’re burning up darling.” The blonde looks up at you with puffy eyes, hot tears still running down his cheeks. “Don’t bother yourself with my problems, Cher.” His voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, much unlike his usual honeyed tone you had come to be so enamored with. “You aren’t bothering me, Jo.” You assure him, slowly helping the blonde stand up and walk towards his bed despite quiet protests from your lover.

“(Name), I have a match in a few minutes..” He mumbles as you go to grab a wet towel, coming back from his bathroom a few moments later and placing it on his forehead, earning a groan from the blonde. “I don’t care about your match, dear” you whisper, wiping the tears that are still falling from his eyes. “I can’t let you go like this, sweetheart, you can barely stand.”

He groans but doesn’t object, eyes slowly wandering back over towards the mirror. “…I look so much like he did.. (name)” he whispers, voice wavering. “So much like Claude did when he.. when he left.” Your eyes soften and you press a kiss on his forehead, sitting next to your lover and pulling his body close so he can lean on you.

“It should have been me, (name)” His voice cracks as the tears begin to fall more quickly, burying his head into your chest. “No, Joseph, you’re still here for a reason.” You whisper, rubbing circles into his back as he cries. “I’m sure Claude would be happy to know you’re still here, yes?” He lifts his face up to look at you, then looks back at the mirror and sighs.

“Sometimes I pretend he’s still here…” he whispers, his eyes furrowed and voice shaking the more he stares. “Seeing Claude… me… like this… I think about it all over again.” He shivers and pulls a blanket tighter around himself before continuing. “It’s like he’s dying again, (name).. and I can’t stop it.” You can tell he’s trying to keep himself from seeming weaker than he already seems, the concept of speaking on his own feelings one the photographer was uncomfortable with.

“But he’s not, darling, he’s in peace now.” Joseph bites his nails, hard enough to chip some of the polish you had done for him nights before. “He’d want you to be happy, to let him go..” You whisper, a quiet whine sounding from Joseph though you do not receive any verbal objections.

He shifts further into your embrace, eyes looking towards the door nervously. “Did you lock it, cherie?” “Yes darling.” You respond, grabbing his chin gently and turning his face towards you in order to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I know you do not like being seen like this, don’t worry about anyone knowing.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a while until the photographer falls asleep in your arms, fever still as high as it was earlier. “Oh, my love..” you whisper whole brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “If only I could do something to help you feel better.”

“You’re so strong… I’m sure Claude would be proud of you.” Slowly you get up and grab one of his robes, changing your lover so he can sleep more comfortably before laying back down in bed with him. Hopefully, he would recover soon, and be back to his normal eccentric self. Though, you wouldn’t pass up a moment when he allows you to see him with his guard down, which doesn’t come often.

Slowly, you find your eyes closing as you fall asleep next to your lover, resting your head on his chest as you drift into a deep sleep.

…

Info on my personal hcs: I really see Joseph as someone who struggles mentally while sick after the death of his brother, which is worsened by his mercury poisoning from while he was still alive. Also, I believe that he is somebody who hates to be seen vulnerable, putting on an eccentric persona in order to cover up his true insecurities and trauma. Also.. he won’t be as fun when he’s sick like he is in this fic lol

[inairbinad]

the night belongs to you

Steve Harrington x vampire!Eddie Munson Explicit | PWP | Read on AO3 cw: blood drinking, choking, unprotected sex, off-screen negotiated kink (everyone is safe and very happy)

Most of the time Eddie probably wouldn’t have considered being painfully turned on from Steve’s mere presence as a problem at all. But tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night on the couch with his boyfriend, and there Eddie sat, about as worked up as he’d ever been. Everywhere Steve’s body brushed up against his felt like fire, and every move he made left Eddie thinking about sucking on Steve’s tongue or his fingers or—

Tied to Steve's Got a Date with a Vampire! but can be read on its own. Honestly I think we're safer if this all goes under the cut. NSFW.

Eddie had a problem—and a growing one at that. In his pants.

Most of the time he probably wouldn’t have considered being painfully hard from Steve’s mere presence as a problem at all. But tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night on the couch with his boyfriend, and there Eddie sat, about as worked up as he’d ever been. Everywhere Steve’s body brushed up against his felt like fire, and every move he made left Eddie thinking about sucking on Steve’s tongue or his fingers or—

“God, that’s gross,” Steve commented on a particularly gory scene in the movie they were watching before curling further into Eddie’s side. Eddie sucked a deep breath in through his nose, more out of habit than real need anymore, and willed his body to calm down.

There were perks to being a vampire, Eddie had to admit. The super-strength and the heightened senses were awesome. Never having to wonder about what to cook for dinner was kind of a relief, too, if he ignored the ethical questions about actually acquiring the only thing he could eat now.

Really there was one thing in particular, though, that was both a blessing and a curse—the absolutely insatiable libido.

In retrospect, Eddie probably should’ve realized going over twenty-four hours without getting to fuck or be fucked by Steve would have precluded him from being able to sit through a movie. Especially one that activated his newfound bloodlust.

Eddie had always liked Friday the 13th, but not quite like this. He had to keep shifting in his seat, trying to adjust himself without disturbing Steve too much, every time a spray of blood got any prominent screen time. Which was frequent.

Eventually Steve noticed—or stopped pretending not to notice—and reached over to palm Eddie’s cock through his jeans. Steve’s eyes never left the screen, but Eddie could see the sparkle of satisfaction in them when Eddie gasped at the contact.

“Stevie,” Eddie bit out, willing his hips not to push up into Steve’s hand. “What’re you doing?”

“Just seein’ something,” Steve shrugged, then squeezed.

Eddie hissed and tried to wriggle away from Steve’s hand, which had quickly switched to teasing, featherlight touches. “Dick!”

“It sure is,” Steve grinned, and in an instant he was moving to straddle Eddie and undo his zipper. Eddie groaned at the joke as much as he did at finally having Steve's deft hands all over him.

“You’re such a cornball,” Eddie pointed out in more of a whine than anything. Steve didn’t seem concerned at the critique, as he leaned down and teased his lips against Eddie’s without actually kissing him.

“You love it,” Steve whispered.

“Maybe,” Eddie admitted, keeping the more obvious reply sewn up tight behind his lips. But the dark desire in Steve’s eyes locked onto his, and Eddie felt caught out all the same.

Steve didn’t force the issue, didn’t try to tease the words out of Eddie or say them himself. Instead Steve closed the distance between them, his lips on Eddie’s in a torrent of devouring, hungry kisses. He skillfully sucked and nipped and then traced along Eddie’s lips with his tongue, before finally letting out a triumphant little moan when Eddie opened up and let him lick inside.

Steve’s tongue was one of Eddie’s favorite things about him, whether it was spouting off some clever and bitchy remark or if it was moving in a delicious swirl around Eddie’s own, like now. Eddie couldn’t help but grip tightly onto Steve’s hips and grind up into them, drawing a gasping breath out of him that Eddie swallowed down with greed.

Warring urges in his heart battled for control of the rest of Eddie’s body—between the burning desire to start taking Steve’s clothes off and to keep sucking on his tongue. Eventually, Steve made the decision for him as he pulled away just far enough to peel his shirt off.

Eddie traced his fingers along the planes of Steve’s chest, riding the waves of each shuddering breath with a devout kind of affection that threatened to swallow him whole. He wanted to memorize every mole, every scar, every goosebump that pebbled up beneath his touch. The tan flush of Steve’s skin contrasted so starkly against Eddie’s pale hands, the silver glint of his rings, it was hard to fathom that they fit together so well.

But they did. Eddie couldn’t figure how or why, but Steve fit him better than anyone he’d ever met. With ease he slotted right into Eddie’s hands, his lap, and in that moment—with Steve staring down at him with all the heat and longing Eddie had ever seen in his eyes—Eddie couldn’t deny how neatly Steve also fit into his heart.

Eddie rolled one of Steve’s nipples between his fingertips and Steve arched into the contact, grinding his hips down and sighing as he did. He was always so sensitive, responsive in a way that drove Eddie wild.

“Been a while since you bit me,” Steve pointed out in a low rumble. Eddie’s gaze flicked to his, only to find Steve already staring him down like he was the hungry one. “Miss your teeth in me.”

Eddie’s stomach swooped at the admission, a feeling so distinctly human that he wondered if Steve had the power to bring him back to life. Eddie pressed his thumb into the hollow of Steve’s throat until he could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat. Steve leaned into his touch and smiled, slow and languid and heated through.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” Eddie asked.

Steve just bit his lip and nodded, but Eddie knew he was biting back a ‘please.’ Eddie also knew he could draw the word out of Steve anyway, if he had to.

“You want me to mark you up again?” Eddie hummed. Another nod. He leaned in and prodded his tongue against one of the almost-healed bruises on Steve’s chest from the last time. Steve pressed into it with a breathy moan, and Eddie smiled. “You wanna feed me again, fill me up with your blood?”

“Please,” Steve all but whispered, and Eddie didn’t bother to conceal the way it made him growl.

“What was that?” Eddie asked, just to be a shit. He delicately moved his lips against the curve of Steve’s neck for the added effect.

“Please,” Steve begged this time. He threaded his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulled him in, until Eddie’s face was buried in the crook of his neck. Eddie obliged enough to pop his fangs out and drag them against Steve’s soft, hot skin, which only made Steve shiver and moan again.

Then Eddie sunk his teeth in, deep, just the way Steve had burrowed into his heart.

A hot gush of metallic sweet hit Eddie’s tongue, thick and flowing with the excitement pulsing through Steve’s body. Eddie drank deeply, sucking a shuddering groan straight out of Steve as he rutted down into his lap. Eddie moved to hold Steve’s hips still, keeping him straining against his grip and grappling for a tighter hold in his hair.

“Eds,” Steve gasped, and Eddie could taste exactly how turned on he was already.

If this was going to be one of those nights, though, Eddie knew he’d have to pace himself. He pulled back, gently lapping up the trickles of blood that had escaped him down the side of Steve’s neck.

Then he leaned back and licked the mess from his lips so Steve could watch.

Steve’s eyes never strayed from Eddie’s bloodstained lips as he reached out and touched them with a trembling hand. Eddie quickly darted his tongue out and drew Steve's fingers into his mouth, thrilled at the way Steve’s eyes flared as he sucked them clean.

Sometimes Eddie swore he could feel the ghost of a heartbeat in his chest with Steve’s blood in his veins.

The thought surged him forward, up and off the couch with Steve still in his arms. He wrapped his legs around Eddie’s waist on instinct, and Eddie squeezed Steve’s hips in as tight a hold as he dared. Steve crashed his lips back into Eddie’s, rough and wet and like he was desperate to taste himself. Eddie groaned into the kiss, trying to maneuver them both towards his bedroom by feel alone.

Somewhere along the way Steve bit down on Eddie’s lip, hard enough to pierce even Eddie’s skin. Trying not to trip over his feet and the shock of arousal that surged through him, with a strangled moan, Eddie shoved Steve up against the wall in the narrow hallway just outside his bedroom door.

“Back to biting already?” he breathed, finally pulling back to see Steve’s face again.

“Always, baby,” Steve smirked, a mix of their blood now staining his teeth like a filthy dream.

The whimper that Steve let out when Eddie bit down on his shoulder next was nothing short of divine. Eddie wasn’t hungry for blood so much as he was for every bit of pleasure he could draw out of Steve, to bite and scratch and mark him up until no one could deny that they belonged to each other.

He still couldn’t deny how mouthwatering every drop Steve allowed him to drink was.

Eddie peeled back so he could watch the blood escape from the bite and drip down the plane of Steve’s chest. Then he chased after it with his tongue, drinking in the taste of blood and sweat until his lips wrapped around the pert shape of Steve’s nipple. He sucked and nipped whatever praise he could with his mouth, then rolled Steve’s other nipple between two fingers. Steve keened and arched into it, and Eddie couldn’t hold back a pleased groan. He shifted just enough to bite the swell of Steve’s pec, feeling the muscle tense beneath his lips and leaving the perfect imprint of teeth in Steve’s skin.

“Fuck,” Steve whined, a sound so needy and perfect that Eddie could barely stay standing. He twisted his fingers with just the barest amount of pressure around Steve’s nipple, and drew another breathless moan out of him.

“Stevie,” Eddie murmured, before starting to work his way back up Steve’s chest and neck in a trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses.

“Hmm?” was all Steve managed. Eddie smiled against his neck, then moved to watch Steve’s face as he spoke.

“Want you to fuck me tonight,” Eddie admitted. He didn’t go so far to say he’d been thinking about little else all day, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Steve already knew.

Steve’s eyes snapped to Eddie’s and a smirk slowly worked its way across his perfect, swollen lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, trying to sound casual as he returned to pressing soft kisses along Steve’s jaw—matching every hurt with comfort.

Again, Steve pulled him back by the hair and held his gaze. He didn’t say anything, just bit his lip and stared expectantly, like he knew Eddie would say exactly what he wanted to hear.

He was right.

“Been thinking about it all day,” Eddie murmured his confession. Steve arched his eyebrow in interest, waiting for more. “I miss your cock inside me so bad, sweetheart. Need you to fuck me.”

“Well if you need it,” Steve hummed, looking entirely pleased with himself. Then he unhooked his ankles from around Eddie’s hips and lowered his feet to the floor, dragging their bodies against each other in a slow press the whole way down. He laced his fingers through Eddie’s and started pulling him into the bedroom with a sly grin. “C’mon, baby.”

Eddie scrambled to follow, any finesse his new body provided be damned. He dropped Steve’s hand and took his own shirt off in a split second, only for Steve to stop him when his hands moved to strip out of his jeans next.

“What’s the rush?” Steve asked, shooing Eddie’s hands away so he could get his fingers around Eddie’s zipper instead.

“The rush?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow before pointedly looking down. “The rush is the raging hard on that I’ve had since the moment you got here, and now you’re teasing me.”

Steve smirked again, like nothing made him more proud than to get Eddie riled up to the point of bitchiness. Eddie pressed his hips forward, brushing his erection into Steve’s knuckles to illustrate his point. Steve laughed lowly, a rich, sweet sound that left Eddie’s cock twitching for a release from the denim of his jeans.

“Please,” Eddie whispered, leaning forward to suck Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth. He kissed Steve sweetly, hoping to soften his resolve to move things at a crawl.

Steve moved his hands to Eddie’s hips as he slipped his tongue back into Eddie’s mouth, slowly maneuvering them both towards the bed with a practiced grace that left Eddie feeling dizzy with want.

Eddie went where Steve moved them blindly, until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he toppled down onto it. The loss of Steve’s mouth on his own was regrettable, but the way Steve looked down at him before moving to undo Eddie’s jeans was worth it. He pulled Eddie’s pants and boxers down at once, not bothering to look where he tossed them aside.

Instead Steve kept his eyes pinned on Eddie’s swollen, leaking cock. Then he licked his lips, which just drew another dribble of precum from the tip as Eddie suppressed a shiver.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” Steve murmured. He teased his fingers through the trail of hair on Eddie’s stomach, never dipping quite low enough. “All soaked and ready for me.”

“Steve,” Eddie said, voice pleading. He wasn’t even sure what for anymore, he just needed.

“Turn over,” Steve instructed. Eddie only waited long enough to watch him going for the lube in his nightstand before he did just that, settling on all fours on his half-made bed. He caught Steve’s satisfied, ravenous smile as he moved back behind Eddie with the bottle, taking in the way Eddie had put himself on display.

All for Steve.

Eddie grabbed onto the cool sheets in two tight fists to the point where they nearly ripped, trying to ground himself long enough to enjoy this. He took a deep breath in, but stopped short when he heard the slide of Steve’s zipper coming undone. Eddie turned to look over his shoulder, and Steve sucked his teeth.

“Eyes forward, Munson,” he said, letting out a low chuckle when Eddie gripped the sheets tighter. “Should make you beg like you do to me,” Steve practically purred, tracing a single finger along the curve of Eddie’s ass as he did.

“I can definitely beg, Harrington, real easy,” Eddie whined in an effort not to push back into Steve’s touch.

“You want me that bad?”

“All the fuckin’ time, sweetheart,” Eddie choked out. “I never stop wanting you.”

“Just me?” Steve asked, fingers teasing closer to where Eddie needed him most.

“Only ever want you, Stevie,” Eddie said, veering dangerously close to a cliff he wasn’t sure he was ready to plunge from yet. No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, Eddie felt the cold slide of lube against his skin, before Steve spread it against his hole with able fingers. This time Eddie did push back with a gasp, generating just a little bit of desperately needed friction along the tight ring of muscle that sent sparks licking up his spine.

“So gorgeous, spread out and waiting for me,” Steve hummed, and then his touch was gone again as soon as it had come. Eddie felt the loss deep in his gut.

“Fuck, Stevie. Please?” Eddie’s voice cracked with need, and the way Steve rewarded him for it was both agonizing and exquisite. He replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, pressing flat up against Eddie’s rim and teasing.

Until he wasn’t in the mood to tease anymore.

Steve fucked into him in one hot thrust, letting out a string of deliciously needy noises as he stretched Eddie open with nothing but the veiny girth of his cock. The sting of it left Eddie seeing stars, crying out and pushing back for more until Steve bottomed out. Eddie didn’t know if it was a vampire thing, or just a Steve thing, but he relished every little hurt like his body was made for it. Made to ache and yearn and split itself wide open for Steve and Steve alone, then knit itself right back together with a little bit more of him inside every time.

Steve took a minute to stay there, the flat of his palm resting on Eddie’s hip and searing against his skin. How full Eddie felt was sublime, but he needed more. He needed Steve to move, to fuck him into the mattress until he couldn’t remember his own name.

“More, Stevie,” Eddie rasped, both delighting in and cursing the way Steve’s strong hands held his hips in a vice grip to keep him still. “Please, need you to move.”

Steve didn’t do more than hiss as he pulled back in a slow crawl that left Eddie feeling everything and yet not enough. Then Steve thrust back in, quick and with enough force to send a shockwave right from Eddie’s prostate and leaking straight out of his cock.

Again, and again, and again, Steve repeated the motion, too slow and too fast until Eddie couldn’t do anything but whimper with each snap of Steve’s hips. Each time Steve’s balls brushed against his taint, every time the tip of his cock just barely brushed Eddie’s prostate, it left a half-wound coil of pure want reeling in Eddie’s gut.

A pathetic, keening sound escaped from deep in his throat as Steve leaned forward to kiss Eddie’s shoulder, shifting the angle and stretching him further. Eddie thought he’d finally pick up the pace, but then Steve pulled out all the way, and Eddie nearly cried.

“Steve—” Eddie protested, somehow managing not to toss a ‘what in the everloving fuck?’ over his shoulder when he couldn’t even feel Steve’s presence at his back anymore. But then Steve rounded the bed, his cock gleaming and slick from the lube and his own precum, stiff and proudly on display after having just been so firmly inside Eddie’s ass. Eddie twisted his fingers further into his sheets and bit back a moan just at the sight of him.

Steve grabbed a pillow, then leaned down and grasped Eddie by the chin to kiss him sloppily. Steve was just as breathless as Eddie, and yet somehow seemed so much more in control of himself than Eddie felt.

“Here,” Steve murmured against Eddie’s lips, before moving to place the pillow beneath Eddie’s hips on the bed. “Lay down, baby. I wanna go deeper.”

Eddie thought his brain might’ve malfunctioned, he was so completely enamored with that idea. All he managed to do was let out a small grunt of acknowledgement as he laid with his chest flat on the mattress. The pillow under his hips gave some much needed contact to help alleviate the ache in his cock, and also left his ass even more exposed, propped up for the taking. He felt the bed dip as Steve settled in behind him again, knees on either side of Eddie’s thighs and his dick brushing up against the curve of Eddie’s ass.

Eddie clenched in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Steve said, his voice straining around the words. He palmed Eddie’s ass and spread his cheeks apart with a low hiss. “Fuckin’ gaping and begging me to fill you up again, aren’t you?”

“Fuck yes, Stevie,” Eddie said, rutting down into the pillow as he did. Steve moved to hold his hips still, and Eddie couldn’t help but start babbling. “I’m beg— beggin’, I swear, baby, please—”

His plea was cut off by his own choked back sob as Steve slowly started to push inside again, sinking deeper and deeper as he lowered his body weight onto Eddie’s. The further he buried himself inside, the more places their skin made contact—and the more Eddie’s whole body crackled with electricity as he stretched to take all of Steve’s cock deeper than he ever had before. Eventually Steve bottomed out again, hips flush against Eddie’s ass, and Eddie didn’t know where Steve stopped and he began.

Steve rested on his forearm on one side, then threaded his fingers through Eddie’s on the other, squeezing tight and gasping when Eddie clenched around him again.

Then he finally started to fuck Eddie like he meant it.

Eddie’s senses were overwhelmed in an instant—the wet slap of every hard thrust, the way Steve’s sweat-slicked palm folded around the back of his hand, every moan and cry elicited out of Steve that Eddie felt right up against his ear or neck or shoulders. It was all so intimate and fucking intoxicating that it was all Eddie could do not to come apart with each slide of Steve’s cock inside of him, each thrust that pressed his own cock down into the pillow beneath him.

“God…damn you feel good, Eds,” Steve praised. Eddie could tell from the way Steve said it in half a growl that his teeth were clenched, and he ground down into the pillow again from the sound alone.

Steve grunted reproachfully at that, still wanting Eddie to keep still and take him, deep and hard and fast. Steve let go of his hand, then pushed it into Eddie’s hair instead and pulled. Eddie whimpered and leaned back into it, pushing up onto his hands so he could twist enough to kiss Steve in a messy clash of tongues and teeth. He still tasted like blood, and Eddie did his best to suck the sweetness of it right off of Steve’s tongue, desperate for the way that Steve’s blood helped him find a better high than any he’d ever found as a human.

Then, without even realizing the words were coming out of his mouth, Eddie said, “Choke me, Stevie.”

Steve let out a strangled moan that almost sounded like a laugh, before locking on Eddie’s eyes and double-checking. They’d done it before, but Steve was nothing if not a gentleman. Or, at least one who was willing to get rough if only Eddie asked nicely enough. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie nodded, relishing the way the movement tugged against Steve’s grip on his hair. Then that hold released, and Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie’s throat and gave a questioning sort of squeeze. Eddie didn’t hesitate to beg some more. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Shit, baby,” Steve keened, then squeezed harder, fingertips deliciously digging into Eddie’s heated flesh. It didn’t quite have the breathless thrill Eddie might’ve once sought—considering he didn’t exactly need to breathe anymore—but the pressure of Steve’s strong fingers around his throat still left Eddie panting, literally choking for more as it triggered something primal deep in his gut.

Steve picked up his pace to something more punishing, rougher now that he had his hand wrapped around Eddie’s neck. He rested his other hand on the small of Eddie’s back, giving him more leverage as he pounded into Eddie, over and over.

The pace, the burn, the full force of it was delicious. Eddie couldn’t get enough, chasing a bliss now that felt like an imminent wave cresting towards the shore. Eddie thrust down into the pillow again, and Steve didn’t stop him this time. Eddie found a rhythm of rocking forward when Steve pulled back, then pushing back into it as Steve would thrust in again.

Then he felt something hot and wet hit the dip of his lower back, a steady drip, drip, drip on each snap of Steve’s hips. Eddie turned to see, feeling the drag of Steve’s fingers around the column of his throat as he did. He let out an obscene growl when he realized one of the bites on Steve’s chest was bleeding again, dripping onto Eddie’s back with each back-bending thrust Steve pumped into him.

Steve followed Eddie’s gaze to the shallow stream of blood on his skin and smirked. “You like it nice and bloody, don’t you, Eds? Like it when it hurts a little?”

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed in agreement. Steve gave his throat another tight squeeze.

“What was that?” Steve asked in a slightly mocking tone, throwing Eddie’s own words right back at him. Eddie thought it might drive him feral.

“Shit—yes, Stevie,” Eddie rasped out. “Love it so much, love your cock and your hands and, fuck—love your blood.”

Steve’s hold on his throat tightened again at the words, and they came out at a near wheeze. Then he released his grip around Eddie’s throat, and held his wrist up for the taking. “Take it, then.”

It was too much, too tempting to deny. Eddie latched onto Steve’s wrist with greedy teeth and sucked, reveling in the feel of Steve’s heart thudding against his tongue.

“Fuck, Eds, I’m—” Steve cut himself off with a whine, the pace of his thrusts faltering for the first time. Eddie groaned against his wrist but kept drinking, marveling at the way he could taste Steve’s orgasm flooding his veins before it came. It was consuming, the feel of Steve about to come undone—Eddie could hear his heartbeat kick into a higher gear just as easily as he could taste it, could smell the way Steve’s sweat and precum morphed into something deeper, more urgent.

Then, somehow, Steve rallied just enough to let some more filth flow out of that pretty mouth of his and set Eddie’s whole body alight.

“You like the way I give you everything, don’t you, baby?” he purred in Eddie’s ear, close enough that his breath ghosted against the curve of Eddie’s neck. “My blood and my cum and my whole fuckin’ heart—”

Steve came with a cry, spilling his load in a warm, wet rush deep inside of Eddie. Steve didn’t stop right away, fucking his cum into Eddie’s hole one stilted and shaking thrust at a time. Every sound he made was so goddamn beautiful, and Eddie was already so full, so fucking ready to explode—his balls tightened and the knot deep in his belly tensed to rupture. With one more press of his cock into his pillow he followed Steve in an instant, a burst of red exploding behind his eyelids as he finally released Steve’s arm from between his teeth with a scream.

Eddie rode the wave of his orgasm, still fucking into his pillow with Steve buried deep inside of him until all he could do was feel everything—hear his own cries of ecstasy and taste the blood on his lips and smell the mess of cum stained sheets beneath him.

Eddie didn’t know how long it took him to come back to earth, how long Steve stayed inside of him as his cock finally softened while Eddie could feel the cum leaking out of him. He wasn’t sure when exactly Steve pulled out and rolled Eddie onto his back before peppering his face and neck with kisses as he wiped him clean.

Distantly, Eddie thought maybe he should be taking care of Steve after drinking so much from him. But he was so completely boneless that he could only watch as Steve took a warm cloth to his skin with the gentlest of touches, murmuring how well Eddie’d done for him, how perfect he’d felt.

Eddie could barely figure how he’d gotten so lucky as he basked in the praise.

Eventually remembering his manners, Eddie twisted his upper body in a long reach towards his bedside table. He’d taken to keeping a stash of protein bars in there for Steve for nights like this in particular, where he was more than generous in letting Eddie feed. There was also a constant supply of sports drinks in the fridge now, which Wayne only ever raised a knowing eyebrow about without saying anything more. Eddie was eternally grateful for that much.

“I’ve got it,” Steve grabbed Eddie’s reaching hand, planted a kiss on his palm, then laid it back over Eddie’s chest. “You rest.”

“I just drank half your blood, Stevie,” Eddie huffed, maybe being a tad dramatic. Steve didn’t seem to mind, given the fond smile on his face. “I should be taking care of you.”

“And I just railed you into the mattress, Eds. You deserve to recover.” Steve countered. Eddie heard the crinkle of a wrapper, then got to watch Steve take a bite of the bar and swallow. “I’m all good, see?”

“You have a very big opinion of yourself,” Eddie muttered, delighting in the huff of laughter it drew out of his boyfriend. Steve pointedly looked at the mess on the sheets before moving his eyes back to Eddie’s face.

“Just calling it like I see it,” he said, then moved over to the closet for a fresh set of sheets. Eddie knew the look on his face was probably dopey as shit as he watched, but he couldn’t be bothered with getting embarrassed over it—not with such a spectacular view to admire. Steve was never so beautiful as he was like this, stark naked with his skin littered with nearly as many bite marks as he had moles. He made his way back to the bed and brushed Eddie’s mussed curls from his forehead with touch soft enough to make Eddie melt all over again.

“You need a minute?” he asked, voice like velvet. Eddie wanted to live in the sound in a way he’d only ever experienced with music before. He shook his head, leaning into the way his whole body was singing from a good feeding and a better fucking, and used that energy to pull himself up off the bed. He helped Steve strip it and remake it in a domestic little dance that left Eddie’s chest aching for a heartbeat again, if only so it could flutter in that moment.

The desire only intensified when he and Steve crawled back into bed together, laying face to face in a tangle of satiated and loose limbs. They were so close that Eddie could see the red in his own eyes reflected in the warm brown of Steve’s.

Eddie thumbed along the ridge of the bite on Steve’s shoulder, still amazed at the way he could smell the pooled blood changing as it turned a pretty shade of purple beneath the surface of Steve’s skin. Steve hummed at the pressure, a contented sort of sound that made Eddie’s cock twitch again in interest.

“We didn’t finish the movie,” Eddie pointed out, remembering what they’d been doing before for the first time.

“We can tomorrow,” Steve said with a sleepy smile. “If you can get through it without getting hard again, anyway.”

“Big ask,” Eddie scoffed, smiling at the way Steve’s chest inflated with a laugh beneath his hands.

“I know, baby,” Steve cooed, entirely teasing. “But if you’re good, maybe I’ll blow you next time instead.”

“Stevie,” Eddie whined, already imagining all the wonderful things Steve’s mouth could do. “You keep talking like that we’re gonna need to go again now.”

“Let me nap first,” Steve yawned. “We don’t all have that vampire stamina like you.”

“You do okay, sweetheart,” Eddie said, already burrowing further into the curve of Steve’s shoulder. Steve moved a hand into the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck, playing with the wispy curls there and leaving a trail of shivers in the wake of his fingertips.

Eddie sighed happily at the touch, admittedly a little sleepy himself. He settled into the fold of Steve’s arms, letting the strong and steady beat of his heart carry Eddie off to sleep like a lullaby.

Thank you for reading! If you haven't read Steve's Got a Date with a Vampire! yet and wanna read how they got together, you can do that here. Seeing as I'm still in tumblr jail, I'm not going to tag anyone. But reblogs would be very much appreciated if you liked it, to help people find this 💜

[melodygatesauthor]

The Best Barista in the First Order

Kylo Ren X f!Reader

Part 8 of 28 in the February Fluff and Fuck 2023 Challenge

Day 8 Prompt - Coffee Shop AU (not an AU, takes place in SW universe)

Summary: The Supreme Leader is very particular about many things, and his morning coffee is no exception. Even more, he is very particular about the barista who brings him his coffee every morning, and isn't happy when he hears she is transferred to a different position on his ship.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, soft!Kylo, no smut, fluff, Kylo is protective, Kylo Ren in love, cute, sweet, coffee shop is more like a kitchen on the Finalizer and Reader works in it making coffee in the morning.

Word Count: 2.7k

You were standing in front of the doors to the command center. No matter how many times you’d brought the breakfast orders to the First Order elites, including Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, your nerves never ceased to force your body to tremble.

You walked in through the double doors when they opened, rolling your cart containing drink orders along with various pastries and muffins. You moved slowly, careful not to spill anything, and parked your cart to the side. You picked up the tray containing mugs filled with specific and preferred morning beverages. General Enrich Pryde was there, awaiting his tea. You brought it over and handed it to him. Most of the time they all pretended that you didn’t exist, and that was the way you liked it. You were a lowly kitchen worker, only there to deliver their food and drink, and then be on your way.

You walked over to your cart once again, grabbing the Supreme Leader’s cup. You’d already made a mistake, not bringing his order to him first, but that didn’t seem to be a problem. At least, no one said anything. As long as you didn’t bring attention to yourself, you would remain invisible.

You wouldn’t be invisible today though, today you were going to make a scene. Today you were going to be noticed, and grab the attention of everyone in the room. There was no telling what you tripped over. It wasn’t a shoelace, your shoe didn’t even have laces. It wasn’t your pant leg, and the floor was flat as could be. It was simply the wonderful grace of the Maker, forcing you to fall forward, flinging the Supreme Leader’s coffee hurdling at the floor in front of his feet.

The one thing you could be grateful for, was that it didn’t land anywhere on him. If it had burned him, you knew he would’ve removed your head where you lay on the floor. Panic ran through you. The only thing you could think to do was rush over on all fours and beg for forgiveness. You scurried, slamming your palms into the ground and nearly bruising your knees with how quickly you moved to him.

“Supreme Leader, sir, I am so sorry.” You said, keeping your eyes on the floor at the coffee you’d spilled there. “It was an accident I-”

“Look at me.” He demanded, surprising you.

You raised your head, meeting your gaze to the void of the mask where you knew his eyes were. He tilted his head to the side slightly. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath. He was much bigger from the floor than he seemed normally. You felt your breathing stop, and the entire room seemed to go silent. You were sure they were all waiting for you to lose your head right there in the command center.

“What is your name?” He asked.

“...” You told him.

He stood up, increasing his height over you tenfold. He held out a hand and Forced you to your feet. You clasped your fingers together nervously when he released you. You let out a breath you’d been holding in for a while. A stray tear found its way down your cheek and you felt frustrated by it. You weren’t brave in the slightest, and you wished you could be.

“Someone get the cleaners in here. You…” He pointed at you, “bring me another cup.”

You nodded, grateful to be walking away with your life, “yes, Supreme Leader.”

You didn’t waste any time rushing out of the room to comply with his demand. A very small part of you considered leaving the First Order, afraid that maybe Kylo Ren would reconsider letting you live and behead you when he next saw you, but you knew that would be a mistake in itself. The entire trip down in the elevator was spent focusing on normalizing your breathing. You’d never been that close to death before.

It wasn’t the first slip up you’d made, but it was the first time you’d done it right in front of Kylo Ren, and so noticeably. After the long trip back to the kitchen, your boss was busy working on prepping lunch already.

Being a kitchen worker on board the Finalizer was difficult. You were busy from the moment you woke, to the moment you turned in for bed, and there was little time for leisure. Everything was on a strict schedule. Coffees went up in the morning, along with a cart with food. Then you prepped for lunch, and later you would bring the lunch orders and clean up the breakfast. Spilling the coffee really hindered the schedule, and you hoped your boss wouldn’t be too angry to see you making the Supreme Leader’s order once again.

Your hope fell flat as he approached you, stern-faced, “what are you doing?”

“Um, I spilled the Supreme Leader’s coffee.” You explained, starting to brew a new cup.

“You what?” He asked harshly.

You felt your cheeks heat from embarrassment.

“It was an accident.” You explained through your shaking voice.

“Enough.” He said, pulling the bag of coffee beans from your hands. “You’re done.”

“Excuse me?” You asked, feeling yourself becoming emotional. “I can’t be done, this is my job!” You shouldn’t have been raising your voice, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“This is not your first time slipping up like that, and this time you spilled the Supreme Leader’s coffee?” He scoffed, “you’re lucky to still be alive! No, we can’t have that. Maybe you can polish helmets or iron clothes.” He waved you off, “best of luck.”

Your mouth was stuck agape while you looked at him. You couldn’t believe that you were losing the position you’d had over the last three years on the Finalizer, all for spilling a single coffee. What was worse, was that it wasn’t even up for debate. You couldn’t try and negotiate, or say anything that would change his mind, you were just done.

“Fine.” You pulled your apron over your head, threw it on the floor and walked out.

Crying was pointless, it wasn’t going to get you your job back, but you did it anyway. You knew you could find something else to do. Your friend was head of one of the cleaning departments and she would, no doubt, be able to find you a job there, they were always looking for new people. It didn’t change the fact that you would rather work in the kitchen though.

There was something about waking up every morning, brewing coffee to the exact specifications of each person, and then having the honor of delivering their drinks. Even if they didn’t always show their appreciation, you knew even the most stern elites, like General Pryde, felt a little bit better when he had a nice, warm cup of tea in his hands, and it was all thanks to you.

You waited outside of your friend’s room for her shift to be over and for her to come back and see you. She was surprised to find you standing there, but when she saw your clearly distraught face, she wasted no time hugging you tightly.

“Hey Kass.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What happened?” She asked, furrowing her brow.

You shrugged, “spilled a little coffee next to Kylo Ren and my boss wasn’t a fan I guess. I mean, it’s not like I did it on purpose.” You sighed. “It just sucks, I liked working in the kitchen.”

“Well, you can always come work for me, you know that.” She patted your back.

“Yeah, I mean, if I don’t find something to do they’ll deem me worthless, which…” Your eyes went wide, “I don’t want to know what happens to those people.”

The people deemed worthless in the First Order often disappeared. If you stopped working, then you couldn’t contribute to the greater good, and therefore you needed to be disposed of. You couldn’t let that happen.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ll set you up tomorrow.” She hugged you again. “Why don’t you get some rest, meet at the utility room 0101-B, first thing and I’ll get you started.”

“Alright, thanks Kass.” You said, leaving her and heading to your own room.

Sleep didn’t come easily. You kept thinking about how mad the Supreme Leader must’ve been. You were glad he always wore a mask, afraid to think about what his face must’ve looked like when you spilled the coffee. One thing about the interaction with him stood out to you though…he’d asked you for your name. The more you considered it, the more you realized how strange it was that he would even ask you that. He had never asked you before, and he didn’t seem to care about most of the lowly employees of the Finalizer.

Those thoughts, and the nerves surrounding what your new job would be like in the morning, filled your mind and made it hard to finally doze off.

When you woke up, you felt as uneasy as you had when you’d gone to bed the night before. Already you were thinking about how lucky you were to escape death the day before, and how little you knew about being a cleaner.

After washing yourself and getting dressed, you finally left your room. When you made it to utility room 0101-B, Kass was already there, smiling when you walked through the door.

“Hey girlfriend, ready for your first day?” She asked, all too bubbly for your taste.

Kass had always been such a peppy type of person, and while you tried to be that way, it didn’t come easy to you. You often had to try hard to put on an excited face around others. Social situations weren’t your strong suit.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.” You sighed.

“So, you’re not going to like this, but apparently the Supreme Leader is in a…well he’s in a mood, and he broke something in the command center and you gotta go clean it up.” She motioned to the cart by the door. “That’s your cart.”

“What? Shouldn’t someone who’s been doing this longer be the one cleaning up after him?” You asked, feeling suddenly even more anxious than before.

You really might die now. You were certain that he never would want to see you again, not after you spilled his coffee the day prior.

“Part of being new is getting to do the jobs that no one else wants to do, I’m sorry.” She shrugged.

“No one’s going to show me what to do? No training?” You asked, trudging over to your cart.

“For cleaning? I know for a fact they teach you how to clean in the kitchens. Go on, you’ll be fine!” She insisted, ushering you out the door. “You get a one hour break at noon, and then you’re finished at five.”

You groaned and thanked her again for at least giving you a job. There was a chance you wouldn’t even run into the Supreme Leader. He was a busy man and couldn’t possibly spend his entire day in the command center. Surely he might be doing something else at that time. Afterall, you’d brought him his coffee on several occasions and in several different rooms. One time you even were summoned to his bedroom to put some food and drink by his bedside.

You wouldn’t be so lucky today though, he was there, and his back was to you while he spoke to the crew, voice booming through the room. He didn’t even turn while you started cleaning up the broken bits of electrical equipment scattered on the floor. You imagined that cleaning up after Kylo Ren’s tantrums must get exhausting to do day in and day out. The person who was new before you must’ve been relieved when they heard they were getting a break today.

“Sir, we will be approaching Jakku soon.” One of the pilots said at the control panel.

“Good. Ready my-”

You were so focused on cleaning you didn’t realize that the room had gone silent right away. Eventually you looked up, meeting the void of the black mask that had the Supreme Leader behind it. You gulped, feeling uneasy and wondering if he was going to kill you this time. You wondered if he had regretted not doing it yesterday while you were kneeling at his feet.

“You.” He pointed at you.

There were peering eyes all through the room, and they were all on you. Not a single breath was made from anyone. You wondered if someone would be thrusting your dead body into space in a few short moments.

“M-me, sir?” You said, damning your bottom lip for quaking.

“If the rest of you have no further work to do then I can see to it that replacements are found.” He looked around the room and immediately the prying eyes went back to their jobs.

One heavy stomp at a time, he stalked over to you. Not knowing what else to do, you once again found yourself kneeling at his feet. You would’ve kissed his boot if he had commanded you to. You were so afraid of what he was going to do next. You heard the signature hiss of his mask coming undone, and you were more confused than ever. Of all the things you’d expected him to do, that was next to last on the list.

“Look at me.” He demanded softly.

Slowly, you trailed your eyes up from his boot, over his leather pants, across his coat and finally met with his brilliant eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt your palms beginning to sweat and the heat was boiling in your cheeks.

“Pretty.” He said, an undeniable smirk played at his lips, meanwhile you were dumbfounded and completely confused.

“I-I’m sorry?” You felt like you were suffocating.

“Where were you yesterday?” He asked, moving on from his previous statement. “I am positive I asked for you specifically to bring me a new cup.”

“I, um, I was told I couldn’t work in the kitchen after I spilled your coffee Supreme Leader, sir.” You gulped, looking back down at the floor.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He demanded once again.

You did as you were told, still not sure why he was playing with you that way. If he was going to kill you, you wished he would just do it already.

“I’m not going to kill you.” You sometimes forgot that he could see into people’s minds. “Your prior boss on the other hand…will be taken care of immediately.”

You knew what that meant. There was no stopping him, so you didn’t even try, but you wondered what you’d done to receive that type of treatment. You wondered why Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the galaxy, was interested in murdering your boss for dismissing you from your post.

“You are clumsy, foolish, and downright unfit to work even in a kitchen.” He said insultingly.

If he wasn’t your Supreme Leader, and your life wasn’t at risk in that very moment, you would’ve slapped him for saying such a thing. It was unbelievably rude, and hurtful.

“You make the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted, despite your inability to serve it to me properly.” His fingers moved, beckoning you to stand, and so you did.

He was so tall, so frightening to stand next to.

“Thank you, sir.” You said finally, remembering that you should speak when spoken to.

“Since you’re so unfit to work in the kitchen, I think it’s best I am the one to find the position that would suit you best.” He put a gloved finger under your chin and tipped your face up to meet his eyes once again. “Don’t you?”

AO3 LINK

Tag List: (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @my-secret-shame, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry

[elly99]

us without me IV: new jeans

A story series from the perspective of Mia (fem!Reader/OC) as she goes through her memories and recounts falling in love with her best friend in high school, Minji. She suffers in silence until she breaks and it all comes crashing down.

Part 4 of 7. Check here for more details. Reading previous parts for context is encouraged. CW for language.

“Mia-ya,” she calls from behind her locker door.

“Mmm?”

“You wanna do something this weekend?”

“I dunno. Just relax, I guess.”

“You don’t wanna do something together?” She closes her locker, revealing her face pouting at you.

There were so many things you wanted to do together. But you bury those ideas under the books you stuff into your own locker.

“Did you have something in mind?”

“Nothing in particular. Just something with you.”

Fucking hell.

“Well, I think I need new jeans. Help me pick out some?”

You catch her smiling to herself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She giggles. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Why are you laughing?”

“I’ll tell you later!”

“김민지 이상하다.”

Before closing your locker you notice a tiny bear sticker on the door.

“How did this get here? We’re only a month in and you’ve already started vandalizing my locker?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, bro.”

“Is this why you were laughing at me?”

“No, no! But I will admit it’s funny how you only noticed it now. And also how easy it was to guess your code.”

“Wait, yeah! How the fuck did you know?”

“Mia! No need to be so angry that your best friend knows you so well.”

It slowly dawns on you. “You remembered the date?”

“Of course! The day we got these,” she says, lifting her ring finger up to your face. “It was my idea after all.”

You look down at your own fingers. And you start to feel your sanity slowly slipping through them.

“To be fair, it did take me a couple of tries before I got it. But still… I know you’re sentimental like that, so it wasn’t hard.”

As she proudly struts away to the cafeteria you spot her applying lip balm - the same one you used.

You thought you’d buried it in your locker along with everything else but you find yourself powerless to stop the idea of kissing her making its way back into your mind as the lip balm touches her lips.

-

The smell of spring wafted in through the open bedroom window. You had your phone to text her in one hand and the chocolate bar she got you on the walk home in the other.

so we’re just going shopping tomorrow?

yeah unless u had something else u wanted to do

wanna watch a movie?

huh? i thought u didnt like movies

yeah but i just want to spend time with you and i know you like going to the cinema so

You admire the blue ring on your finger and laugh.

My girlfriend really likes me, doesn’t she?

As long as you had it on you could pretend. So you never took it off.

i just checked and there arent any movies showing rn that im interested in

wanna come sleep over at my place then? we can watch the movies we want

wow u really wanna spend time with me huh

you got a problem with that bro?

no its just ur being sweeter than usual idk

well i do have something really important to tell you and i just wanna spend the day together so we can talk about it

No, Mia. It can’t be what you think it is.

is this what u were being so secretive about earlier?

yeah

why so serious bro is everything ok?

yeah everything’s perfect! i just want to tell you in person

No. Fucking. Way.

why not now?

i’ll tell you tomorrow dw

you promise?

of course! i’ll pick you up at 10? or is that too early?

no im fine with it but i doubt youll wake up that early

you’re right 😖 i’ll just text you tomorrow

sure

okie good night mimi ily 💗

good night <3

Mia, there’s just no way. Calm down. You’re being silly. You’re being delusional. Stop it.

You start laughing again at the absurdity of the situation. At the fact you were even entertaining the thought. You laugh until tears start pooling in your eyes. Until you forget why you were laughing in the first place. Until the tears fall and you find yourself crying into the night.

-

i’m up

congrats on waking up before noon ig

hey i set an alarm just for you so you better be grateful

woah im so touched

we have a date today so i better be on time right? 😊

Damn it, Minji.

does that mean youll be here soon?

yeah in 30

cool

It was 11:10. You’d gotten ready to go two hours ago. But she didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know that you were dying to know what it was she wanted to tell you.

hey i miss you

What the fuck?

bro whats up ur never this clingy

sorry i’m just really happy

about what?

you’ll see

It was 11:11. You wish for what you’d always wished for. You knew there was no point but with her being like this and your ring still on your finger, the line between fantasy and reality had never been more blurred.

-

Waiting outside your front door, you see her approaching from down the street. Even at that distance you could see the radiant smile she was giving you.

Often you wondered what life would have been like had you not moved in just down the street from her. Had you not gone to the same school. What if the universe didn’t give you so many opportunities to get close to each other? Why did it have to give you so many reasons to fall for her? But you had no choice. This was your life now. The girl you called your best friend, the one standing in front of you, was the person you so desperately loved.

“굿모닝.”

“It’s not morning anymore. You’re late.”

“미안!” You’re reminded that every apology would sound like your name. “But I’m here now. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you have something to tell me first?”

“Later. Over dinner.” Her smile was cheeky. Teasing.

“We have dinner plans?”

“Yup. My treat.”

Your heart trips over its own beats.

“Bro, it should be my turn.”

“Mia, no. This one’s important to me.”

Then it starts to scream as it hits the ground.

“My god, Min, what’s this about?”

“Don’t worry about it! Let’s just go get your new jeans first.”

She starts laughing again and you still don’t know why.

-

“Minji! No way!” you exclaim, shopping bags filled with clothes in one hand, her hand in the other as she tugs you along to a familiar part of the mall.

She just smiles and sticks her tongue out.

“This place is expensive!”

“But it’s your favorite. So it’s where we’re going.”

“Minjiii,” you whine.

“Hey, if you really cared about me spending too much you wouldn’t have such expensive taste. You left me no choice, to be honest.”

“Bro!”

For the first time in a while you’re laughing together. For a reason you both knew.

“For real, though, Mia. It’s fine! It’s my treat, so don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so sweet, Min.”

As if that needed further confirmation, she pulls out a chair for you.

“Mia! Are you blushing?”

“What? No!” You quickly cover your face with your hands. Your ring smiles a devilish smile as you bring it close.

“Don’t fall in love, bro,” she says teasingly. But it was way too late for that.

“What do you mean? I’m just excited for the food.”

“Sure.”

With that one word her expression changes. You couldn’t quite parse it. But you convinced yourself that there was something about her face that told you that she knew. And there was nothing more terrifying.

-

As your meal comes to a close and the night slows down she finally says it.

“Mia.”

“Minji.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“I know.” Your voice falters as your heartbeats quicken. You clear your throat to hide it. “Just tell me already.”

She leans over the table, looking straight into your eyes with something like anxiousness in hers.

“I’m… I’m debuting in July.”

In that moment, as your pounding chest comes to a crashing halt, there was no greater dissonance than wanting to be happy for your best friend but being disappointed that she didn’t want to be more than that. Being excited for her future but being bitter that her future wasn’t you.

Then came rage. Fury. The dissonance between expecting, wanting, praying for her to confess and knowing that that was just a puerile, selfish fantasy you conjured for yourself. “You’re being silly again,” is what she would have said. You were so angry and there was no one else to blame but you.

“Bro, I’m so happy for you!” you strain. “All that hard work’s finally paying off!”

“Thanks, Mia,” she says softly.

“I don’t even know why you were worried you wouldn’t debut! You’re so talented. It was always gonna happen. I’m so proud of you, Min!”

“Thank you,” she repeats with her eyes.

“So, what’s the name of your group?”

She laughs once more and you finally understand why.

“NewJeans.”

“Oh my god, no wonder.”

“But don’t tell anyone, ok?”

“Of course, bro. Why would you even think I’d tell anyone?” you ask a little more aggressively than you’d like, still barely controlling your anger. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice.

“Just making sure.”

“How many songs do you have?”

“Four. And, yeah, we’ll be filming our music videos in Spain.”

“Oh, wow!” You wonder how much longer you could hide it. How much longer until she realizes you were faking it. “When are you leaving?”

“Next week. Which is why I wanted to spend time with you this weekend.”

“Wait, will you be gone for your birthday, then?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh.” You struggle to find words to say as your anger is replaced by sadness. “I’ll miss you…”

“I’m sorry! I’ll miss you, too! I promise we’ll spend lots of time together when I get back.”

“But I’m sure you’ll be really busy even then. Even more when you debut…”

“Let’s not worry about it yet, Mia! I’m still here. And I’m just happy to be with you now.”

“Me, too.” You smile weakly.

“I’ll just go pay, ok? I’ll be right back, then we can talk more about it at home. We have all night anyway!”

“Thanks, Min. For the food. For today. For everything.”

“Aww, bro, you sound so sad!” she says as she stands up. You look up at her from your chair. Seeing your hand on the table, she gently wraps hers around it and you hear the subtle clink of your rings as they touch. “I’m still here, ok? I always will be.”

You don’t take your eyes off her as she walks away. And they remain glued to her in forbidden admiration as she returns. Every time you looked at her there was always a part of you that wanted to just rush over to her and tell her everything. That she was your everything. Your first love. Now, knowing the world would soon fall in love with her, too - because you knew everyone would - that part of you wanted to keep her all to yourself.

Then there was the part of you just happy to see her. To have her in your life. Because she did make you happy. She always tried her best to put a smile on your face. She was an angel like that and today was further proof of it. And her smile - the same one you could see on her face now as she approached you - it made you feel safe. Like things were going to be alright. There was a strange, counterintuitive comfort you found in it, knowing that, even if she didn’t know your pain, she’d be there for you. She thought the world of you. She loved you like no one else could. Just not in that way. And you were happy with that. You’d have to be.

“가자.”

At the sound of her soft voice your sadness gives way to resignation. You remind yourself that it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t give you what your heart yearned for. And in doing so, you could finally, truly be happy for her.

With your hand hidden from her in your pocket, you slip your ring off with your thumb as she takes you home.

[a-oraculo-loveless]

So... from listening to the song so much and reading too many fanfics about Taks Force 141, I couldn't help but:

imagine a scenario where the four of them meet in a bar in a small town where they go from being perceived, celebrating a little after a few days ago, they would manage to find the last witness of an important conspiracy and arrive in time to put them safe in the protection program.

For some reason, Ghost got carried away with Soap and managed to get him drunk enough to let loose and do some other silly thing or game.

To you, they seem like a very particular group... and handsome, without a doubt. The fact that you relieved your partner had its positive side in the end. Although they were all handsome and polite, you verified the latter from all the times you went to serve them, the one who caught your attention the most was the man with the skull mask.You tried to get his attention, but he seemed uncomfortable so you let him.

Instead, the man with the Mohican haircut came over to start a pleasant conversation with you. He introduces himself and invites you to go to the table where he is with his team (except Ghost, who was involved in a group where they were doing strength or skill challenges). He introduces you to the group and everyone introduces themselves "and that's Ghost over there" Soap mentions in amusement "do you want me to bring him?" He asks as if nothing had happened. You get nervous and tell him that you don't want to bother him, that he could understand that he doesn't like you.

Meanwhile, Ghost watches what is happening and feels upset. A moment ago he thought you just wanted to talk to him so you could get to Soap, Gaz, or even Price, because that always happened on group outings. And seeing them all laughing and chatting in such a friendly way made him uncomfortable, marginalized. He decided to pretend that nothing was happening and continue enjoying the rest of the outing as best as possible... even if that meant giving up being able to talk to you, or even giving up the possibility of kissing you, because... god, girl, you are so fucking beautiful...

Soap and the others tell you a little about what Ghost is like and that he probably behaved like that towards you because he likes you. You laugh nervously and deny that it could be like that, you think he's an unattainable guy or something like that. "Look, pretty, I have no problem showing you that it is like that but..." Soap directs his gaze towards where Ghost is because he can feel his intensity, which he hides very well by very subtly diverting his gaze from time to time "I want to bother him one last time tonight." You didn't really understand what Soap meant, but before you could do or say anything, he gets up and walks over to where Ghost is.

You watching both talk and from time to time look at you out of the corner of their eye. There is a moment of silence on Ghost's part while Soap continued talking to him with a smile, as if he was having fun with the topic of the talk. Ghost looks at you one last time and then says a few words to Soap, who seems very happy and pats him on the shoulder a couple of times. Ghost gets up from his spot and disappears from your sight. Soap imitates the movement but heads towards where you are.

You ask Soap what that was all about, he laughs "if he sings a song, he asks you out. I know you wouldn't reject him because you like him, but I wanted to have some fun." You could feel your face getting hot from the surge of blood. Your heart wasn't helping much by pumping in that irregular way. You wanted to stop the joke because you didn't want Ghost to have to go through so much embarrassment just to talk to you because if it were up to you, you'd stay with him all night, talking about whatever, even if it meant you being the most active one the talk, or even being locked in that bar.

Then a great commotion was heard, the small stage of the bar was being occupied by the local band and then Ghost appeared hooded and with his characteristic balaclava, which left his mouth exposed. Seeing those lips made you thirsty and you quenched it a little with the closest drink you had.

The musicians tuned their instruments and Ghost cleared his throat a little without realizing that he had the microphone nearby. The sound was clear enough to give you chills. After a few minutes, he started singing and something in you lit up...

[temnurus]

WWX POV Fic Recs

So! As a diehard Wei Ying fan, I thought it would be rather timely to come up with a rec list that showcased him in all his clever, chaotic, charming glory. This mostly some of my more recent reads, as I tried not to duplicate recs from my top ten list and the 10 extra honorable mentions because I couldn't stop myself.

Ahem. Anyway, this is a good mix of stuff. We've got everything from accidental baby acquisition, to case fic, to monsterfucking! (You're welcome, fellow deviants. 😉) Happy WWX day, folks! Now onto the recs!

hold up a mirror by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 36,170)

Thoughts: Another brilliant friends to lovers fic by one of my favorite authors. They wow me every single time, no exaggeration. In this one Wei Ying is lonely. He’s also tired of being set up on blind dates by his concerned brother when he stumbles upon the fact that Lan Zhan is pining for some idiot who has somehow failed to see how great he is. Obviously them pretending to date will solve both of these problems. Jiang Cheng will get off his back, & they’ll be able to make Lan Zhan’s crush jealous enough to realize what he’s missing. Cue me banging my head against my desk while muttering about their joint stupidity, & we have the recipe for yet another fic making it to my favorites list.

(we've got) time for one more by impossibletruths (E, 71,504)

Thoughts: I felt Wei Ying’s longing in my bones in this fic. For the music, for Lan Zhan, for all the things that could’ve been. He was such a good dad to A’Yuan, & their relationship was so touching. I cried several times in this fic, one of which was inspired by Wei Ying & the Jiang siblings trio. The feelings surrounding them & the planning of Yanli’s wedding were so bittersweet with canon lurking in the background. I really loved getting to see it come together differently here, though. Seeing Lan Zhan through Wei Ying’s eyes was also a huge treat here, & I loved their dynamic, angst & all. This was a great fic, highly recommended!

Stumbling Into You by Magnolia822 (E, 39,332)

Thoughts: I really enjoyed this one. Wei Ying & Lan Zhan’s relationship felt very soft here, & sometimes I love that. It really worked with the whole tone of the fic. I liked Lan Zhan’s characterization in particular, which was neat since the story is told from Wei Ying’s perspective. There was a touch of angst, mostly towards the end, but the fic definitely earned its happy ending tag. I recommend it if you enjoy college AUs & our boys being soft idiots in love.

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28,758)

Thoughts: This fic was such a fun read. Wei Ying’s confusion was just delightful, & seeing Lan Zhan shower him with love in every way he knew how was breath-takingly sweet. There was a lot of fun teasing & banter, as well as an incident with a hickey that had me laughing until I cried. Nothing hurt in this, & I appreciated that so much because sometimes you just need a little softness. This did that just right. I highly recommend it.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones (E, 77,020)

Thoughts: This is one of the most glorious things I’ve ever read in my life. I am not exaggerating when I say that. I cannot tell you how many times I laughed so hard I cried. This fic was hilarious, sexy, & full of Wei Ying being his chaotic best self. I nearly lost my mind at how hot some of the smut was, & it definitely earned the Crack Taken Seriously & Porn with Feelings tags. I’m not normally a crack fic person, so my ringing endorsement of this fic should not be taken lightly. 10/10, will absolutely read it again. As should you!

so take my hand (take my whole life too) by cicer (E, 92,343)

Thoughts: This is the second accidental baby acquisition fic I read for Wangxian, & A-Yuan is much younger here, not even a year old. There are lots of cute baby moments, including Wei Ying & Lan Zhan figuring out how to be parents together on the fly. Wei Ying had a huge crush on Lan Zhan and was, of course, convinced that Lan Zhan didn’t like him back. He is very, very stupid, but that’s okay because he’s obviously always very wrong about that. I laughed a lot at this fic, but it was also very touching. Not a whole lot of angst here besides the unfortunate reason for A-Yuan being left with them, but those subjects aren’t graphically described or deeply gone into.

In Love and War by Cataclysmic_Calamity (E, 68,321)

Thoughts: This is A/B/O dynamics done right & is easily the best of the trope that I’ve read for this ship. Mind the tags, of course, but I do recommend this if Omegaverse is your thing. Wei Ying’s plan to make himself insufferable didn’t go quite as well as he’d hoped, & before he knew it he was suffering the indignity of falling in love with his own husband. The nerve! Haha. There’s a good amount of angst, & the depth of feeling was gripping. I also enjoyed the side pairing of SangCheng. This author wrote a Hualian fic that’s one of my favorite fanfics period, so that certainly lends itself to the quality of the writing.

Full Moon Blues by Unforth (E, 39,034)

Thoughts: Alright monsterfuckers, this one’s for you. It’s exactly what you’d expect. Wei Ying’s phobia of dogs plays a large role. The depiction of panic attacks is very visceral in this fic, so be warned if that’s an issue for you. The angst is all emotional in nature & does pass eventually, leading to the star of this fic, the fucking. Oh my goodness, the fucking. The smut is so hot it nearly melted my face off! If you like werewolf sex, you’re in for a treat here. But don't let that fool you, their emotional connection is just as satisfying as the smut! I recommend anything by Unforth, to be honest. I’ve loved everything I’ve read by them.

for sale: eboy bathwater, never used by lewdwife (E, 25,123)

Thoughts: This was absolutely hilarious, boarderline Crack Treated Seriously almost. The Sugar Daddy thing is a sort of almost/but not really kind of thing, but I honored the author’s tag anyway. I could feel the convention energy as Wei Ying & the gang geared up for it, & it was a whole lot of fun. The smut was absolutely filthy & very, very good. I definitely recommend this one. It was adorable.

a stone to break your soul, a song to save it by rikke (M, 179,769)

Thoughts: Despite this being rated Mature it actually does contain smut! It’s maybe tame smut compared to most Explicit rated fics, but I’ve always found there to be a very fine line between the two ratings that no one can really agree on. I digress, though. This fic is plot-heavy & plot-driven. It’s an interesting case fic that also features an arranged marriage between Wei Ying & Lan Zhan in order to redeem Wei Ying in the eyes of the cultivation world after the events at Qiongqui Path. The Wens end up being sheltered by the Lans at Cloud Recesses instead of the Burial Mounds as a result. I enjoyed the twists & turns of this, & watching them slowly get closer was as rewarding as always. There was some interesting cultivation theory featured as well.