#what the fuck. no way this is my first 5k post that’s so stupid LOL

[furtherlands]

that’s my not streamer

[toorusluvr]

… ⇢ ˗ˏˋ F.O.M.L PART TWO ࿐ྂ - FUSHIGURO TOJI

characters: coach!fushiguro toji x volleyball player f!reader

cw: college!au + volleyball!au + cunnilingus (f!receiving) + penetrative sex + mentions of creeps bothering the reader 

word count: 5k

note from nis: hi everyone so the long awaited part two of f.o.m.l is finally here. the part one was posted before i did my internship and now i’m three weeks away from completing my internship lol i’m so sorry for the delay. so, i hope this part two will keep you entertained and i apologise in advance if it’s not as good as the part one. the part two focuses on the events that happened before part one took place (did i word this right?) anyway, i hope all of you enjoy this part two as a celebration on officially getting toji animated! <3 thank you and have a great holidays! 

[part 1][part 2] 

Good lord, if Toji was no better than any other men, he would have tried to hit on his student that day. The first time he ever saw you as a woman rather than his student, he almost lost his mind over how fucked up that sounded in his head. He tried to blame himself for ever viewing you as a woman instead of his player but he just couldn’t stop staring at you! 

It was subtle, really. Toji was being subtle with all the staring, not wanting to stir up a crazy controversy around this new place. As a coach, he was supposed to lead his team to victory, not tearing them apart due to his foolish stunt. So, he acted normally like he usually did at his previous college. A grumpy, strict, hot-headed coach he has always been.  

Toji hates… no, he detests disobedience! He will never tolerate anyone talking back to him. Not even a word should be said back to him, no matter who the fuck you think you are. Whenever he asks you to do something, you better do it or else he’s going to lose his shit. You aren’t going to do what he asks you to do? It’s nice knowing you while it lasts. Especially in volleyball. You better follow what the man says. He is not at all nice with his words, he must say that. Most of the time, he would verbally lash out at the players, nitpicking every tiny mistake they make. It’s unbearable at first but hey, that’s how your team got to the final round of volleyball collegiate level! It was a remarkable day and the victory was possible due to Coach Toji’s determination and hard work. 

Coach Toji is never the one to make his players’ sports attire a huge problem in his life. But right now, there is nothing more he hates than how skimpy those shorts look on you at times. He wasn’t a fool! He could clearly see how stupid those college boys look at you in those revealing shorts. They were ogling over you and your teammates. A part of him just wanted to beat the shit out of them for having the audacity to look at what’s not theirs! 

But, he is not any better than those pervs. Coach Toji loves how those shorts look wonders on your legs. The way you stretch your legs on the squeaky floor and the shorts will rise a bit, teasing him with just a small peek of the globe of your ass. Coach Toji does not pay attention to the other players but you… you make him forget that he’s even breathing at the moment. 

Does he regret feeling this way towards his own student? Sometimes, yeah. He’s a grown man and so are you. It’s nothing inappropriate even if it might seem like it. But, he won’t ever act on his dirty thoughts for long as he’s having this job that is keeping him alive. He still has his conscience even if it’s uncontrollable at times. 

Coach Toji isn’t the one who likes having his hands on women he has absolutely no interest in. He avoids touching his players especially but you are an exception. He had to make an exception for you the moment he started to find himself staring at you. The days he started to think you are just what he needs in his life. Another plaything, another toy to keep. Such a precious little thing, his mind would say at every glance he takes. The quiet laughter you share with your teammates, the shy and flustered look every time your eyes meet his piercing gaze. He wouldn’t miss that. Oh, now he definitely knows you want him just as much. You may not want him romantically but it was enough to satisfy him on the you want him sexually part. 

You would think he doesn’t notice the way your body squirms every time he tries to fix your posture before each serve. He indeed notices it and the way your skin turns a bit colder each time his fingertips brush against your skin. The shaky breath you slowly inhale and exhale to calm the raging nervousness set in your heart. Cute. It just drives him to go crazy over you. 

His ‘girlfriend’, the woman he brought as his date to the event, wasn't really his girlfriend. Just another casual fuck buddy that he keeps in case he wants to well… fuck. Better to keep at least someone around anytime he wants to hit. She’s an old friend so no romantic feelings involved and both of them are very clear about it. 

That was merely a stunt to check if you’d get jealous but he never got the answer to his curiosity. You played your part well. Coach Toji was definitely impressed. 

However, a few days later, he received a call from your phone number that he saved in his contacts. Well, well, well, look who came running to him this late at night. Turns out, you couldn’t resist him too, huh? 

The moment he picked up the phone, his heart dropped at the sound of your panicking voice. You were sobbing and crying out for his name. “Coach, I-I’m sorry for calling you at this hour. There are a few guys who are disturbing me… I d-don’t feel safe,” your voice was caught in your throat at the end of the sentence. “Can you get me? Please…” you sobbed, holding your coat tightly to the chest. 

You couldn’t get past the group of guys because there were plenty of them. They were catcalling you and you got scared to walk past them. Calling your coach was the last thing you could do because no one else was nearby the campus at this hour. You went out for the sole purpose of purchasing dinner but then this shit happened. Fuck these guys for making you feel unsafe! 

Coach Toji immediately grabbed his jacket and keys, storming out of his apartment by the campus. “Don’t put the phone down! Stay on the phone with me. I’m coming to get you right now. Stay where you are,” he gritted through his teeth. His anger was off the roof, blood boiling at the thought of you feeling unsafe.

Those men’s faces will meet his fist tonight and he meant it with his whole existence. Whoever puts the people he looks out for in danger is going to be scathed alive. Coach Toji drove to the pinned location where he met a group of men drinking several cans of beer by the road. He spotted you hiding behind the building, hands clutching over your chest. One of the men tried to get you but he never got to approach you as Coach Toji’s fist met his jaw. 

“Don’t you fucking dare make women uncomfortable by your rotten existence, you fucking dipshit,” Coach Toji’s voice seethed. His knuckles burned, slightly scratching his skin off. He was quick to grab you by the hand and you were caught by surprise. Coach Toji stopped in his tracks in front of the group of men. 

“You better get the hell out of here before I call the fucking cops on ya,” he threatened. “If I get one more complaint, on God, I would make sure that each and one of you never sees the lights again.”

Coach Toji didn’t waste any second as he pushed you into the passenger seat. You tried to sob quietly beside your seething coach in his car. He didn’t say a word, just giving you space to calm down. His anger was out of his control but he wouldn’t want you to fear him while being in an unstable condition. He may have some unresolved anger issues but he is not an animal. 

You let your coach take you to wherever he wanted to take you. Knowing him, his players’ safety is under his guidance as well. So, he would never leave you in a place he doesn’t have his faith in. Instead, he brought you to his house by the campus. He’s been staying here for as long as you could remember. 

“Get inside,” Coach Toji instructed. You knew better than saying anything back so you obeyed. The door was unlocked by him and he rushed you inside. “Sit,” he pointed his index finger to the couch in the living room. 

His house was cozy even with the minimal decorations. No clutters except a number of beer cans on the dining table. Maybe he had a few drinks with people before this happened. You sat on the couch and the tears that overflowed before had left its stain on your face. Coach Toji went to his kitchen to grab a bottle of mineral water before handing it to you.

“Tell me what happened.” The screeching sound of the chair being dragged across the marble floor interrupted the silence. Toji placed the chair in front of you and sat across you, manspreading with his elbows planted above his knees. His jet black hair hair was damp, sweats sticking on his forehead. The black t-shirt stretched against his muscular body every time he moved. 

You explained to him that you were buying dinner take outs for yourself and you were on your way home when you stumbled upon the group of guys. They were drunk catcalling you, terrifying you to walk past them. You were stuck because that path was the only way home and out of there. Calling Coach Toji was your only option because he lives near campus and could come to get you as soon as possible. 

Coach Toji let out a heavy sigh. “Those bastards,” he gritted through his teeth. He got up and stood in front of you, keeping both of his hands inside his pocket. 

“Do you know any self-defense?” He asked. 

As embarrassing as it gets, you never really learned basic self-defense. There is no time to learn because of the time you spend on volleyball practices. “No, Coach. Sorry, I don’t know any,” you blurted out. 

“Don’t,” he retorted. “Don’t apologise.” 

Your eyes met his stare. It was instinctive to apologise for not knowing any because most of the time you ever hold a conversation with this man is when he is scolding you or your team members. 

“Sorry, Coach.” It was too late to realise what just came out of your mouth. Another apology that Coach Toji refused to hear. He let out a heavy sigh, clearly disappointed. 

“You think you can sweat tonight?” Coach Toji asked. His black orbs held its gaze with yours for a moment. 

You were clueless but you just said yes to his question. “Good. I’ll teach you basic self-defense. Come closer,” he instructed. “Leave your bag and takeout bags. They are not coming with you.”

Oh, right. You were still holding your shoulder bag and takeout bags in your lap. Putting aside your belongings, you got up and straightened your pullover and jeans. 

Coach Toji’s eyes landed on your outfits. “Those jeans are not going to make do. Do you have your shorts on?”

Safety shorts. You always put them on every time you wear jeans because it’s easier that way. No underwear lines. “Yes,” you hastily answered. 

Coach Toji could feel blood rush to his groin. Fuck. But, he wasn’t going to take advantage of you. He wanted to teach you some basic self-defense moves so it would be useful. He would hate for you to use it though because he doesn’t want any bastards near you to put you in any danger. 

“Put them on,” he commanded. 

You nodded hesitantly. Coach Toji hurriedly looked away so you could take your jeans off. He noticed you were clearing your throat awkwardly so he assumed you’re done. He cleared his throat next, “Alright. Come forward.” 

You did as told. Coach Toji took a step forward too, “First, stand with your feet apart. Align it with your shoulders. You know this. It’s a basic stance.” Within a second, you prepared yourself in the first stance. Coach Toji let out a disapproved noise. He checked your stance and moved his hand to widen the stance of your legs. His skin brushed against your skin and the contact burned you. 

Coach Toji felt the warmth emitted from your skin. “Next, you put your hands up like this,” Coach Toji showed the moves. You tried following and he nodded after your stance convinced him that it’s correct. He let out a satisfied hum before moving closer to fix the stance. 

“The next move requires flexibility. Just like how you did in volleyball. It’s easy. Move your legs like this. Raise them higher,” Coach Toji’s large hands gripped on your left thigh and moved them upwards, lifting your legs to kick the air. 

You let out a deep sigh as you felt the burning sensation over your inner thighs. “I think I pulled a muscle,” you winced in pain. Coach Toji furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t think you pulled a muscle, maybe it’s just a light strain. 

“Sit down,” he pointed his index finger to the couch and you obliged. Coach Toji inspected your smooth thighs, his fingers running along your skin. His other hand gripped on your flesh with a firm grip. 

“I don’t think you pulled a muscle,” he confirmed. 

You bit on your lower lip. Maybe it was a false alarm? 

“Um, okay, Coach.”

Coach Toji raised one of his eyebrows at you, “You didn’t stretch properly.”

The tone of his voice was hinting on accusing you for not stretching properly. You felt offended somehow because you did stretch properly before learning the self-defense mechanism. But, it’s only normal for him to have an accusatory tone because that’s how he has always been. 

“Quiet already?” Coach Toji asked, staring straight into your eyes. He let out a heavy sigh again. “I thought you girls are so talkative even when I am around. Ya think I didn’t know what you guys were talking about me the other day?” 

Your heart dropped at the sudden mention of the other day’s incident. It’s none other than the woman herself who told him about it. Coach Toji had a good laugh after the woman told him about it. Well, she wasn’t wrong about it neither did his players. 

“I- well, we…” your words trailed off, not knowing where to begin to defend yourself. “It was a joke. I apologise on behalf of my teammates. I assure you it will not happen again.” 

“So, you think my sex life is a joke to you girls?” He blurted out. Coach Toji was not being serious about it but it was exciting to see the panicked look on your face. You looked so helpless right now and it rubbed his ego in the wrong way. 

Your cheeks heated, your breath became unsteady, palms turned colder the moment he said that in your face. No one was supposed to overhear the stupid conversation that put you in trouble right now. It was a foolish bet that could possibly hurt no one. But, luck wasn’t on your team’s side that day. Coach Toji’s girlfriend heard it all and placed her bet on it too. 

That stupid little game put you in trouble and you became the hero that saved your teammates the trouble. Gosh, being the hero doesn’t sound so good right now. Not with the killing stare Coach Toji was giving you. 

“Maybe it’s about time for me to stress that you girls really need to mind your own business. My sex life has nothing to do with you people,” Coach Toji sternly said. He noticed your jaw ticked, eyebrows furrowed when he scolded you for the mess that your teammates created. 

“Again, Coach. I apologise on behalf of my teammates. It was a foolish bet that has nothing to do with you,” you gulped, shaky eyes and heavy breaths. Coach Toji shrugged, dismissing your apologies. 

He found it funny that he didn’t find it offensive at all but God, did he try to control himself from not spoiling you right there and now. Coach Toji was about to lose everything on his goddamn mind seeing that innocent face of yours trying to make up for the team.

“Oh, sweetheart. If only you knew,” the man sighed. “Want to see it for yourself so you can brag to your teammates all about it?” 

Your eyes shivered. That wasn’t how you planned to describe what you were feeling in that moment but for sure your eyes did shiver! Every hairs on your body rose, skin prickled with heat in embarrassment or arousal – it was either of them, you were not quite sure which of them was it. 

“I- no, that is not what I meant,” you stuttered in your place. Both of your feet were stuck to the floor. You could not move an inch because Toji was staring daggers at you. His piercing gaze could kill you, steal all of your breaths and finally, leave your body on the floor. 

“Ever dreamed about me, doll?” Coach Toji took a step forward, and you could feel the warmth of his muscular body emitting. His black shirt hugging every inch of his biceps and that rock hard abs. The man brought his one hand over your face, cupping your delicate jaw. The friction between your shorts and the restraining tent on his pants flipped the switch in your brain. 

Your breath hitched again. “I’ll take that as a yes,” you heard him whisper just beside your ears. His minty breath tickled your already heightened senses. Coach Toji’s palm landed on your stomach, pushing you onto the couch. His very much larger build hovered on top of you. 

That man’s mind was a battlefield. He didn’t know what he should do at this moment other than wrecking you. A part of him wanted to go gentle but he said fuck it, and just do whatever his guts were telling him to do. He could not waste this chance. He wanted to show you how a real man should satisfy his partner, though you aren’t really his to begin with. As long as you get to taste just an ounce of his intention, he’s fine with it. 

“Do you want this, doll? Whatcha say?” Coach Toji’s voice broke the silence again. Slowly, he lifted your chin to meet his eyes. 

Your breath staggered, chest rising up and down heavily. Without any hesitation, you nodded your head – not knowing what the future has in store for you. It was all in the heat of the moment and you could not deny the heat pooling in between your legs. 

Coach Toji’s lips caught your lower lip. Gently, he nibbled on the soft lips he sneakily admired from afar. The urge to just devour you was getting stronger each second. Coach Toji’s impatient hands almost ripped your shirt out. But then he thought you deserved better than that. He wanted to at least be respectful of your current state. He groaned into your mouth as his hands snuck their way in your shirt. His calloused hands lightly stroked your stomach, igniting a fire in your systems. 

You let out a soft pant as he removed your shirt for you. If it were up to him, the shirt would be ripped off in a millisecond but he was holding himself back. It was a surprise to him too. He was never patient, he would admit.

Coach Toji looked down to where your nipples were poking through the material of your bra. A smirk plastered across his face seeing you got aroused. Your back was comfortably laid on the couch and Coach Toji’s huge frame looming on top of you. The man’s minty breath ghosted over your neck, littering soft kisses on the thin skin. He sucked and nibbled on your skin, instantly decorating it with the red marks. 

Your fingers clawed on his ripped back, careful to not make it sting. Maybe it was the chemical reactions in your system, but you couldn’t defy the electrifying feeling to grind against the man’s forming tent. His lips left traces on your skin as he went lower and lower. 

“Oh, God,” you whimpered once he situated his face in between your thighs. A smirk plastered across his manly, “sculpted by God himself” face. He roughly pulled down your pants, almost ripping the fabric into tiny pieces. He was growing impatient as time passed by. He couldn’t just stand there trying to refrain himself from spoiling you. You turned him this way, and he wasn’t complaining one bit. 

Right now, you wanted to run away so bad. But, the way Coach Toji was looking at you as if you were the greatest gift that has ever happened to him, successfully changed your mind. The way his gaze glistened with pride once he undressed you naked. His eyes observing every inch of your body with the smug smile on his face. His calloused hands reached for your thighs, circling both of them with his hands. 

“So fucking tempting,” he grunted in his deep raspy voice. “How could I not love this sight?”  

Coach Toji continued to taunt you as your body squirmed underneath him. He couldn’t let himself be patient any longer. The man ensured you were watching him the moment he spat on your cunt, and you shivered feeling the warmth of the liquid. 

You felt a long lick along your folds, back arched against the couch with your eyes shut. A burning sensation electrified your whole body. This feeling made you feel like you were a brand new woman. Nothing ever felt like Coach Toji’s tongue, not even your exes. Is this because he’s far more experienced? But, God, was it so good that you almost cried that night. 

Coach Toji threw a look at you, eyes shut closed — not daring to meet his eyes. Cute. 

His tongue sucked and nibbled on your folds before it moved to your clit. A cry escaped past your lips as he sucked hard on the bundle of nerves. Your instant reflex was to tug on his hair and he was pissed off. But, he fucking loved the way you pulled on his hair when he was devouring you like this. So precious for him. And obedient too. He would do anything just to have you in his home again. 

“Ah! Please!” You cried out after trying so hard to keep your noises to yourself. You were panting heavily, eyes finally met the man’s piercing gaze staring up at you. The scar on his lips lifted as a smirk plastered across his face, daunting you with mischief. 

Coach Toji went back up, towering you once again. “Please what, doll? Use your big girl words. You’re a smart girl. Try harder.” 

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest at his words. “Please… give me more, sir,” the word ‘sir’ hung in the air. Only Coach Toji’s steady breathing accompanied the silence. His blood rushed to his already half hard cock at the name you just called him. This might be the first time he is affected by the sound of your voice. 

“Give you what?” Coach Toji smirked. 

You gulped, your throat burned at throwing the words out of your mouth. Before you spoke, your breath hitched, stopping you to form coherent sentences. “Please use your cock on me, sir,” your lips trembled once you spat the words out loud. Loud enough for him to hear you. 

“Good. That’s what I thought,” he sighed. “Let me stretch you out before I use my cock on you, hm, doll?” 

That statement gave you chills. You peeked at his fingers. The girth of his fingers made it hard for you to breathe. It’s gonna burn, for sure. Coach Toji commanded you to look at him. You got scared of his stern voice. With nervousness coiling your stomach, you kept your eyes on Coach Toji, paying attention to every one of his acts. 

He brought two of his fingers to his lips, wetting them in his mouth. Saliva coating his two fingers right after, followed by a loud pop sound. “Tell me if it hurts,” he muttered under his breath. Your back arched once again once you felt his two fingers slid so easily inside your cunt, penetrating the tight walls with its girth. Once his thumb found your clit, you felt this swirling feeling inside of your stomach. The circular motion got your head spinning and panting for more. 

Coach Toji watched your breasts bounce up and down with an awe smirk plastered across his face. Your eyes shut closed, hands clutching on the couch. Feeling his lust got the best of him, his mouth then covered one of your nipples and gave them a hard suck. Your breath hitched again before letting out audible moans. 

The squelching noises that filled his living room echoed in the back of your mind. Your moans and his grunts mixed all together. “C-coach, wait, wait,” you paused. 

His eyebrows furrowed when you called out for him. But, he didn’t pull his fingers out and kept his steady pace. Your face washed with pleasure and struggled to get the words out. 

“Wh-what about your girlfriend?” You finally uttered the question you have been meaning to ask before this happened. His girlfriend would kill you if she found out that her boyfriend is secretly screwing his student behind her back. 

“She is not my girlfriend,” he asserted. Coach Toji met your gaze, “Don’t worry about a fucking thing. You are mine tonight.” He dared to say that with his two fingers languidly stroking your insides, abusing your tight walls with pleasurable pain. 

You moaned once again, climax almost washed all over you. Coach Toji bit on his inner cheeks, grunting as he drew firm circles on your clit, flicking the sensitive bud to give you the orgasm that you never had before him. And when it hit, you found yourself screamed in a high-pitched scream as you had your first orgasm. You were gasping for air but Coach Toji covered your mouth with his addictive kiss. 

His sexy lips nibbled on your lower lip, softly sucking on your plump lip before he terrorised your mouth. As his one hand cupped your jaw, the other free hand rashly undid his pants and his briefs. Once he undressed himself, he let out a groan after breaking the kiss. He never wanted to let go of your lips at that moment. 

You looked down at his throbbing cock in his hand. The length and the girth gave you a second thought. 

Will it fit? 

Will it hurt? 

It’s terrifying enough just at the glance of his dick. 

“Bend your legs for me, love,” he murmured. When you did, he wasn’t satisfied. So, Coach Toji took the matter into his own hands and bent your legs as far as you could. You hissed in pain but surprisingly, he kissed the pain away. 

Coach Toji sighed the moment the warmth of your slick touched his cock. He slid his length along your folds, just rubbing it back and forth, tormenting you with hasty moves. You winced because of the sensitivity after coming down from your high. 

“It’s- it’s sensitive,” you cried a plea.

Coach Toji held your thighs open before he buried his cock inside you. God, it was so warm and he almost lost his mind that night. Your walls were squeezing around his tip so tight. He slowly bottomed out but that only made you cry louder. It was painful but in a good way. The pain was minimal because you were already stretched out by his fingers earlier. 

His head was thrown back once his length was fully inside you. Slowly, he rocked his hips to set his pace. You sobbed back a tear, watching his cock sliding in and out of you. Indescribable feelings clouded your mind, disabling you to form coherent sentences. His stroke was so damn good, you were sure you almost wished tonight to never come to its end. 

Your legs kept on closing against your will because of the building climax. Coach Toji grunted under his breath as his frustration grew from keeping your legs open. 

“You need to be more flexible, doll,” he hissed. “Your legs need to be stretched out more.”

Whatever he said didn’t make sense to you when he got you all speechless. You let him belittled you and all he ever received was a bunch of whines and cries. Coach Toji watched every single of your facial expressions as his cock hit every sensitive spot inside your inviting cunt. 

“Fuck, I already love your pussy, baby,” Coach Toji groaned before giving another thrust that gave you a loud moan. “I am not changing my mind about your pussy,” his minty breath hovered in the corner of your lips. His tongue slid into your mouth, his bare hand fondling and pinching on your hardened nipples. 

His pace was ruthless, leaving your tongue tied. You were sure it was going to leave you limping the following day. Coach Toji wrapped your legs around his waist, pounding into you so hard. You were nothing but tears and snots in the comfort of his living room. He introduced all sorts of new unlocked feelings that night. But, you couldn’t help thinking of the consequences of tonight’s event tomorrow and the day after. What will happen between the both of you? What if someone finds out?  How are you going to look at him in the eyes during practice? How’s your future going to look like? Are you just another one of his fucktoy? 

The overthinking collides with your urge to come around his cock for the second time. And he gave it to you willingly. The high that you never expected you’d experience in your lifetime. Truly, Coach Toji knows how to fuck. It leaves you wondering if he makes love just as good as he fucks. 

[fluxweeed]

10 first lines

share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics / wips

hi @teeteringpileofunusednotebooks and @nv-md! tysm for the tag + i’m sorry i’m so late!! mari – i’m ridic excited for your stupid number of WIPs – also i feel like you’ve started writing at least? two more? since you posted your version? i’m laughing, but with love. ali – your lines are all so perfect and make me miss ur writing so much! nv-md binge incoming!!! 

the last time i did this was exactly 10 published fics ago, so this is actually perfect timing! last time i also completely ignored the rules and talked in-depth about each line, and u kno what? tumblr is about the only place i feel comfortable being stupidly self-indulgent, so here we are again lmao 🙈

in reverse chronological order:

1. For Lack of Wanting (8.4k, E, unrequited drarry)

I was obsessed with him, you know.

(this line and also the entire first section is so tell-y but tbh i purposefully didn’t care. i just wanted to write some fucked-up unrequited roleplay sex, you know? sometimes you have to forget about writing good and just treat urself)

2. Still the pine-woods scent the moon (15.5k, E, remus/harry)

It seems like a reasonable idea, at first.

(so this fic actually started off as a sirius/harry after i went on a huge @lqtraintracks bender one weekend [and if u haven’t already, stop what ur doing and go inhale all 19 lqt sirius/harry fics immediately]. then i realised there was nothing i could really add to a sirius/harry fic that hadn’t been done already - but i came across this art and it lodged itself into my brain forever. it’s just the vibes, u know?? how soft remus looks but also the way he’s looking right at the camera?? that man is in CONTROL. so anyway then obv i needed to find a way to get him into grimmauld place so he could walk in on draco fucking harry in the arse. thus: first line.)

3. Ferrety Little Mouths and How to Snog with Them (5k, T/M, soft drarry kissing)

“And she lost her shit, can you believe it?”

(can’t rly take credit for this one; this whole section with draco talking about his ex is almost word-for-word a convo i had with a friend about their ex and their friend who was weird about it. not quite sure the phrase “she lost her shit” was used, but that was def the vibe.)

4. Two to Lie and One to Listen (85k, E, drarry fake relationship [sort of])

She’d got another letter from the Ministry that morning. It was from the Muggle Liaison Office this time. 

(god, this fic. in the very first draft, hermione was the legit villain: the sort of friend who is well-meaning and loudly supportive, but is lowkey bigoted and doesn’t think that queer relationships are as meaningful as straight ones. then before the first big rewrite i started thinking more about her motivations and had the idea of making her trans – both to give her a non-bigot reason for agreeing to help draco hide his sexuality and not tell harry about it [it’s all about the trauma, folks!!], but also as a nice little fuck-you to jkr. so then she needed more of her own storyline, bc it felt like a bit of a cop-out to be like “hey this character is trans i swear! anyway let’s mostly ignore her and have her get in the way of the main pairing” [which, honestly, is still sort of the vibe of the fic], so she got her big Let’s Change The World Campaign.

the first version of this prologue was from draco POV; the second version was hermione POV but she was sooo mean and angry; this one is the third attempt. i wanted to show her desperate attempts at making any kind of change, anywhere at all, so it’s a bit more plausible that when she runs into draco malfoy, she’s like “ok yeah sure let’s pretend to be boyfriendgirlfriend!” lol. also does it bother anyone else that there are three different tenses in this one line? everything about this fic makes me sick lmfao)

5. Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) (10k, T, epistolary author!harry/publishing-grunt!draco)

CURRICULUM VITAE: Draco L. Malfoy

(can’t remember whose idea it was to start with a cv? it seems like the sort of lazy backstory shortcut i would do, lmao, unless it was actually @lastontheboat​’s idea, in which case it was a genius move to introduce draco’s work struggle and set the tone for his journey thru the rest of the fic)

6. An Auror Error (1k, T, stupid drarry auror fic written in tongue-twisters)

Harry shivered under Malfoy’s stern glare.

(1. wanted it to be left a bit ambiguous what harry’s actually feeling here [reality: he’s shivering bc he thinks draco is sexy when he glares, but also he could be scared bc he’s being interrogated?] 2. playing around a little bit with the s/sh sounds. easing into the nonsense to come.)

7. Eight o’clock, tomorrow evening (11.5k, E, drarry legilimency sex)

It was seven fifty-five, and Draco’s stomach churned.

(listen, i thought i was doing something with the title being a line from the end of The Four Doors, which this fic is a lil sequel to. this first line was (a) tying that together even more and also (b) establishing the POV switch from harry POV in 4D)

8. The Taste of Țuică (15k, E, ron/harry/draco)

Mum always says my problem is that I care too much. I think that’s nonsense, honestly—one of those meaningless things mums say to make you feel better about overreacting to stupid shit. But I can’t deny that I care about my friends. I mean, really care about them. You know?

(i’m including the whole first line here instead of just the sentence bc i was trying to do sooo much here, lmao. first, i wanted to really ground this fic in ron POV, and the weasleys are so very Family [u know??], so i wanted to get that in asap. i also wanted to get in ron’s maybe-demisexuality in there – i love love LOVE getting characters to explicitly state something about themselves while also simultaneously not realising it at all [seriously i do this all the time, promptly forget about this if ever u plan to read one of my fics bc it will be all u can see now haha] and this absolutely an example of that. poor old ron is going “hey i love my friends soooo much, i love hermione, and also i love harry, i just love them both SO MUCH. wait why tf did i kiss harry that one time???” what a chump.)

9. Belatedly Consummated (4k, E, drarry post-arranged marriage fuck)

The problem is: Harry can’t stop touching Draco.

(idk man i just really liked the thought of these two idiots having to cohabit and try to remain platonic while they get a magical boner every time they touch each other ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ this one also gave me a chance to do another thing i rly like to do, which is take the first line and make it the last line, except the last line is somehow Resolved. last lines are fuckin HARD, i use this trick all the time, pls also forget this one before reading any of my fics, ty)

10. Show them the night that they dreamed about before (6.5k, E, percy/harry/draco)

Draco’s first thought is, Huh, Potter’s here again.

His second thought is, What is he doing, bent over the desk like that?

His third thought is, Oh. Weasley is fucking him.

(i think this was the first thing i wrote for this fic and i lowkey still love it. i think it’s maybe a bit confusing? clunky? i feel like one of my beta’s didn’t like it? but it makes me laugh and also i enjoy the mental image of percy going to town on harry and draco standing there experiencing a whole-ass face journey while otherwise completely motionless, so.)

BONUS WIPS:

1. 10k/15kish written, E, silly drarry vagina fic

As soon as Harry wakes up, he knows that Something is Not Right.

(i feel like this might stay the same in the final version? this wip is about 5 years old lmao but i’ve been playing with this beginning section a bit recently. have made it 100% sillier and imo it’s improved it so much. still not sure i’ll ever finish it.)

2. 27k/50kish written, M, drarry polyjuice clubfic

In general, Harry is grateful for Hermione’s efforts to keep him alive.

(i strongly suspect i’m going to rewrite this entire first scene once i actually finish the fic and realise there are secret themes that currently elude me. atm it works as a way of getting them to where they need to be [on a brisk morning walk!] and also as a joke later on in the fic, but there’s nothing else really going on with it.)

-

god i’m so sorry for hijacking a simple tag game to talk about myself at such obnoxious length ;_; hope it encourages more writers to talk about their processes tho, i need more fic writing meta content now galla’s bonus podfic episodes are offline. tag me if u do this / come across this pls!!! love u ❤️

[kkodzvken]

right here - dabi x f. reader

“it’s happening again but i don’t give a fuck about your friends i’m right here, here. baby take a look around i’m the only one who hasn’t walked out i’m right here, here.” - chase atlantic, “right here”

touya-nii wants his baby sister all to himself. smut + angst, DARK CONTENT, 18+ MDNI

wc: 5k

warnings: stepcest (reader’s mom and rei are together, and reader calls him nii-san/touya-nii), emotional manipulation + toxic relationship, drug use, mentions of violence + murder, dumbification, infantilization (reader’s a crybaby lol), degradation, unprotected sex w no prep

a/n: the lovely @inkykeiji ‘s touya-nii series is my absolute favorite fanwork i’ve ever read, and it inspired me to write this!! thank u so so much clari for letting me post this and for creating such a beautiful world with your words </3

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?”

His words startle you, and you jump with a little yelp, dropping your bag onto the ground in surprise. It lands with a loud thump against the shiny hardwood floor, the sound making you flinch again.

He wasn’t supposed to be home yet. Your nii-san was almost never there when you got home from school. He was rarely home before the late hours of the night, well past midnight, when he’d slip into your room without your mother or Rei noticing. Which is why you’d allowed yourself to cry as you walked into the house, why you didn’t bother to wipe away the spidery mascara tears dripping down your face or swipe the snot off your nose. Your stomach coils uncomfortably at the thought of your nii-san seeing you like this, and you duck your head down, sinking onto your knees to retrieve your fallen backpack.

“Princess.” His voice was sterner this time, and it sent a little spike of fear shooting through you. You couldn’t handle his disappointment, not today, not after everything that had happened. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

“S-sorry, Touya-nii,” you stutter, eyes still trained on the floor. He sighs, a dramatic, overly exaggerated sigh that sends another dagger into your heart. You hear the sounds of the couch creaking as he gets up, the sound of his sock-clad feet treading against the hardwood as he made his way to you. His own knees hit the ground, and a large hand finds its way to your chin, long fingers hooking under your jaw and pressing upwards. You let out an involuntary whine as you’re forced to look up at him. Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, you think over and over, bracing yourself for his disappointed glare.

But instead, you’re met with concern swimming through his turquoise eyes. Somehow, that hurt even more than his reprimands would have. He was so busy, already so stressed, and now you’d gone and made him even more worried with your stupid crying. Stupid crybaby. Stupid, pathetic crybaby.

The thought triggers a fresh wave of tears, and you instinctively raise your arms to him. With a coo, he wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. Your face finds its home in his chest, nose buried in his soft cotton t-shirt. Your body shakes as sob after sob pours out. His hands trace comfortingly over your back, rubbing gentle circles against you as he holds you so tight that it almost hurt. But it doesn’t hurt, could never hurt. Nothing ever hurts when it came to him.

“C’mon baby, talk to me,” he whispers against the crown of your head as he presses soft kisses into your hair. “Nii-san can’t help until he knows what’s wrong, baby.”

You sniffle, and then pull your face out of his grey t-shirt, now stained with your tears and makeup and snot. “’M sorry, nii-san,” you whimper. “Sorry for worrying you. ‘M fine, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

He tuts at that, and pulls you close again. This time, your face buries into the crook of his neck, your nose pressed directly to his skin. You inhale his familiar scent – Marlboros and spicy deodorant and something distinctive that’s so painfully him – and as it floods your nostrils, it helps to calm your breathing a bit. He’s saying something, his voice impossibly low, even lower than usual as he speaks directly into your ear. You force yourself to pay attention to his words. “…always worry about you, princess, you’re my everything. Don’t hide yourself away from me. You know, you make me more worried by not telling me what’s wrong, and you don’t want that, do you? You don’t want to worry your nii-san, right?”

You shake your head furiously – or, at least, as furiously as you can when his strong arms are caging you tightly against his body. It’s enough, though, because he coos and nuzzles into your hair. “Then tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

“It’s stupid,” you mutter against his skin. “I’m just being a crybaby.” You don’t look up, partially because you can’t with how tight he’s holding you, but partially because you didn’t want to see the disappointed expression on his face. “But…my friends. You know, I’ve told you about them. Katsu and Hanta and Eiji and Denki. They…they told me we couldn’t be friends anymore. They said they don’t want to be friends with a stupid baby like me.” Reliving the moment makes your skin crawl, and threatens to make you start crying again, but you blink your eyes to force the tears away and continue. “I don’t understand, Touya-nii! Just yesterday, they walked me home, and everything was fine! And now they hate me! I’m... I-I’m just…” The dam in your chest bursts, and the tears that you were trying so hard to keep at bay erupt at full force.

But your nii-san is there, with his arms wrapped tight around you and his warmth enveloping you. By this point, you’re completely in his lap, your thighs straddling him. You can’t deny that being this close to him affects you, like it always does. The combination of your already fragmented emotional state, paired with his hands that have now snuck under your shirt and weight of his clothed cock pressing against your core, make you desperate. Without realizing it, you’re rocking your hips, chasing bliss in one of the only ways that you know how to.

His warm hands grip at your waist and squeeze. The pain makes you gasp and still your movements, and you look up at him. Your wide eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, meet the blue flames of his own irises. His blown-out pupils cover most of his eyes, but you can see the ring of turquoise that surrounds them, that beautiful cerulean sea that you adore so much. Your heart pangs, and for a second you wish that he’d stop with the drugs and let you see those pretty aqua pools more often. But you catch yourself before you can get carried away. Nii-san knows best, after all. Who are you to question him?

You’re just a stupid baby, like your friends said. You suppose that they’re your ex-friends now, although the thought sends another sob wracking through your body. Touya’s eyes don’t leave yours, and he swipes away at your tears with one of his long fingers. “We’re not fucking right now, baby. You’re too emotional. C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

He gently repositions you in his arms so that he can carry you, and then he stands up and walks towards the stairs. You just let him, too dazed to say anything. Touya-nii? Turning down a chance to fuck? What has gotten into him? It’s so out of character that it leaves you dumb and confused. He walks up the grand staircase and across the plush carpeted hallway that leads to his room, easily transferring your weight to one arm so that he can push the door open. He gently lays you onto his plush mattress, and you expect him to climb in with you, but he walks towards his dresser and opens the second shelf from the bottom.

Your heart sinks, but you try and ignore it. Touya-nii knows best. Touya-nii knows best. Touya-nii always, always knows what’s best. He rifles through the various bottles and baggies that he keeps in that drawer before pulling out a little orange bottle filled with blue and white capsules. Wordlessly, he shakes a few out onto his palm before tossing them into his mouth and swallowing them dry. He’s probably used to it, with the way that he swallows more drugs than actual food these days.

He slinks back to the bed and plops down next to you, the weight of his body slightly launching you up. You shriek, and he chuckles. You try to shoot him a glare, but your nii-san is just so pretty when he’s smiling that you can’t help but giggle along. He extends a finger and curls it in a “come hither” motion, and you obey, scooting yourself towards him and nestling into his familiar warmth.

“Your friends are stupid,” he says. It makes you flinch. You had almost forgotten about the reason you were so upset – Touya always made you smile, always took the weight off your shoulders and made you forget about everything that was wrong. But his words are a harsh reminder, and everything comes tumbling down once again.

He notices the shift in you – always so perceptive, always so attentive – and presses a kiss to your forehead. You tilt your head up, desperate for the warmth of his lips against your own, desperate for him to touch you and take the pain away, but he shifts away. “Listen to me first,” he says sternly, and you nod, ever the obedient little puppy.

“Your friends are stupid,” he continues. “They’re stupid, and if they don’t realize your worth, that’s their loss, baby.” One of his hands comes up to cup your face, titling your chin so that he can gaze directly into your eyes. It’s far too soon for the oxys to have taken effect already, but you could swear that his pupils are even bigger than they were before. His eyes feel like an abyss, like black holes, sucking you in. You don’t think that you could ever escape – you don’t ever want to escape. “They think that you’re a dumb baby? They think that you’re too weak and stupid? They’re idiots. You’re my baby, and you’re perfect just the way you are.”

His words are like a fire, and it burns away some of the ice that formed in your chest after you’d spoken to your friends. Still, your pain doesn’t disappear quite so easily. Your little hands clutch his shirt and tug. “B-but I love them, nii-san. I don’t want them to think I’m dumb.”

Touya’s eyes flash dangerously, and your stomach twists. You don’t know what you did wrong, but you’re terrified that you made him mad, that he’ll throw harsh words or blows at you. Or, even worse, that he’ll push you away and leave. But the anger disappears as quickly as it came, and you try to tell yourself that you just imagined it. “I don’t give a fuck about your friends. You don’t need to love them, princess. You don’t need to love anyone else.” The hand that was cupping your face moves down to your chest, and you think that he’s finally going to touch you like you want him to and make you feel good. But instead, he taps at the space between your breasts, his large finger thumping against the spot on your ribs that shields your heart. “This little heart? Princess, you don’t need to give it to anyone but me. I’ll take care of your heart.”

You furrow your brow. Touya has always been protective, has always insisted that you don’t need anyone but him, but this still leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “Touya-nii,” you start to say, but he cuts you off.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened, has it, angel?” His words are just leaving you more confused, and you open your mouth to say so, but his hand shoots out and squishes your cheeks like a fish, effectively silencing you. It hurts, with how tight he’s squeezing you, but you can’t deny that the warmth of his hand is comforting. “Everyone’s left. Your dad left. Your mom’s never around. Those girls you used to hang around with, they don’t talk to you anymore. All of my siblings,” he says, spitting the word with so much venom that you recoil, “can’t stand you. And now these boys. Baby, take a look around. I’m the only one that hasn’t walked out.”  

His words hurt. They hurt because they’re true, because you scramble to find a single example of someone who love who hasn’t left you, and you can’t. You can’t. Your nii-san is the only one who’s stuck around, who’s listened to you cry and comforted you without running away. The only one who hasn’t recoiled at how sensitive you get, the only one who takes care of you and gives you what you need. A fresh wave of tears springs out of your eyes, and you try to bury your face in his chest, try to do anything but stare at the voids that used to be his eyes, but his grip on your face is far too strong.

“What’s wrong with me?” you whimper.

He coos, and releases his bruising grip, choosing to instead cradle your face again. You expect him to give you comfort, to tell you that there’s nothing wrong with you. You open your heart, ready to embrace the warmth of his words.

“You’re dumb,” he says, matter-of-factly, and your face must betray your surprise, because he begins to rub little circles into your cheek. “You’re dumb,” he repeats. “You’re sensitive, and you’re childish, and you wouldn’t survive a single day without someone taking care of you.”

You don’t register exactly when you started crying again, but tears are flowing freely down your cheeks now, running over his fingers that are still moving across your skin. “But,” he continues. “You’re perfect. You’re perfect for me. You’re too much of a god damn brat for anyone else to handle you, but I can handle you. Only I can handle my dumb baby sister. Do you get it?”

He pauses for a second, giving you time to try and absorb his words. The gears in your mind feel like they’re turning painfully slowly, and you can tell that he notices your confusion, because he gives you a dry smile. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, angel. You’re so dumb.” He knocks his fist against your skull, far too harshly, and you yelp a little at the pain. “There’s nothing going on up here. You’re so damn sensitive and annoying, nobody else can bear to deal with you. Don’t you see, princess, how lucky you are to have your nii-san?”

You nod. Your foggy brain is beginning to understand his words. “I’m…I’m so lucky to have you, Touya-nii.”

He chuckles, and he leans down, and finally presses a kiss against your lips. It’s chaste, and over far too quickly, no matter how desperately you try to prolong it, He pulls away and laughs at the pout on your face. “See, puppy, you’re so needy. Your nii-san gave you a kiss, but you’re still pouting and whining and asking for more. Don’t you see why nobody else likes you?”

You nod again. He’s right, you tell yourself, even though there’s still a piece of your brain that recoils at the idea. It doesn’t make sense, what he’s saying. Your friends never said anything about you being needy before, and your mom’s only gone all the time because she’s working, and, besides, she’s the one who took you and left your dad. It doesn’t make sense, but you push aside the stupid resistant part of your brain. Touya-nii must be right, Touya-nii is always right, and you don’t want to make him mad by being a brat and asking too many questions. You were being so dumb, he had to practically spell it out for you. He’s right. Touya-nii knows best. Touya-nii knows best, Touya-nii always knows best.

You look up at him with your glossy eyes, and he smiles back at you with his empty ones. But you can still see the small ring of turquoise that surrounds the voids, and you latch onto them, dive into those tiny blue-green pools and take respite. “’M sorry for being so needy, nii-san.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos. “My pretty, needy baby. Nii-san’s gonna take care of you, because if it wasn’t for him, who else would? You’d be so lost without your nii-san.”

“So lost,” you parrot back. You want so badly to make him proud, to make him give you more praise and sweet words. “Need you.”

“Fuck yeah you do,” he mutters under his breath, before suddenly pulling your face in close and kissing you. It’s violent, it’s messy, but it’s just what you need. He’s what you need. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, and you cry out as the sensitive flesh breaks. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t care – he just slides his tongue into your mouth, and you can taste your coppery blood on his tongue. Your blood, and the acrid taste of smoke from his Marlboros. It’s not bad though – no, it’s great, because it’s your nii-san and you love him more than words can say. His fingers sink into your hips and push you onto your back, and he climbs over you, teeth leaving little marks all over your soft skin.

“Nii-san,” you gasp, and Touya thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. He breaks away from your neck and revels in the needy whine you let out.

Right now, with your small legs wrapped around his waist and your hands desperately clawing at his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer… this gets him higher than any drug ever could. You get him higher than any fucking drug ever could.

You grind your hips against his, and he growls before leaning down to reclaim your lips. It’s not romantic. Nothing about what you have is romantic, despite what the pretty words he whispers into your ears claim. It’s all a means to an end, a deception to get him what he needs. You’re his drug, and he’d rather die than come down. Would rather die than see someone else get their disgusting fingers on what he owns.

Which is why he was so fucking furious yesterday, when he saw you walking home with those four boys that you call your friends. A joke. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic. You really think those boys have any interest in being just friends with you, any goal in mind besides fucking you?

It was honestly just luck that led to him catching you. Jin was too damn stoned to move, and that idiot Tomura had sent Touya to do the runs instead. He was counting the money that a group of scared-looking college students had handed him, making sure that they weren’t trying to stiff him. He knew they weren’t of course – one look at those kids proved that they were too close to pissing their pants to even think about cheating him – but protocol was protocol, and it was there for a reason. Even if that reason was that Tomura’s big, scary daddy would get mad. He had just tucked the bills into his right pocket and reached into his left for the bottle of little green pills that those kids wanted when he saw you. Or, to be more accurate, he saw you being ogled by four boys, their hands all over you as you walked.

It made him sick. He didn’t even realize that he was clenching his fists until the bottle of pills in his hand exploded and little orange fragments sliced his palm. And even then, he barely registered the pain. It was the startled yelps of those kids that snapped him out of his furious haze, and he just threw the pills and plastic shards in the general direction before turning around and marching towards his car. They were saying something, complaining about something or the other, but he couldn’t fucking care less. His hand was bleeding freely by then, and he stopped before getting into his car – he didn’t care about whatever temper tantrum Tomura would throw about his shitty service, but he did care about his white leather seats. With a frustrated groan, he clawed at the wound with his blunt nails and dug out the bits of embedded plastic, and then pulled the sleeve of his jacket over his palm to staunch the bleeding. It probably should’ve hurt more, but the cocaine and rage flowing through his veins were a hell of a painkiller.

He knew those boys, of course. He knew everyone that you interacted with. He drove around for thirty minutes so they’d all have enough time to get home. His work phone wouldn’t stop ringing, and his fingers were too shaky to silence it, so he just smashed it against the dashboard. It sent more little pieces of glass into his already bleeding hand, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, didn’t care about anything besides how fucking furious he was right now. He wasn’t mad at you, of course – you were too dumb to realize otherwise. You probably thought those boys were just nice because they liked you, that they only had innocent intentions when they offered to walk you home. Fuck Jin for rolling when he was supposed to be working, and fuck Tomura for deciding that Touya had to be the one to take his place. Touya picked you up from school every day, and he dropped you off in the morning, and he took you wherever you needed to go. You’d assured him that you’d be fine getting home by yourself today. He assumed that you’d take the bus, which made him antsy, of course – plenty of fucking creeps that could get their hands on you, but at least you’d be in public – but seeing you walk home with that pack of wolves behind you made him see red.

Bakugo Katsuki was his first stop. That blond haired bitch had his disgusting hand thrown over your shoulder, and Touya had half a mind to blow his brains out for that. But, no. He forced himself to stay calm and rational, to control his rage and think about what the best solution would be. If all four of your friends suddenly disappeared, you’d be grief-stricken, and Touya couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have his cute little baby sister wasting her pretty little tears over some brats that just wanted to fuck her, to use her.

Killing was Touya’s go-to way of dealing with inconveniences, but if that wasn’t an option, he was a master at intimidation. With his scarred flesh and maniacal eyes, as well as the pretty little switchblade that he’d carried for years, he painted a menacing picture. He had to ring the doorbell seven fucking times before little Katsu answered, and the brat had tried to give him attitude. All that attitude had melted away within just a few moments, though, and poor little Katsu was left snot-faced and promising that he’d never go near you again. The next three had been much of the same, although they were much more initially scared than the blond kid had been.

It was a shame, really, that Touya didn’t get to actually hurt them. He would’ve loved to sink his switchblade into his flesh, would’ve adored their screams and the tearing of their muscles. A shame, but this was for the better. They’d let you down harsh, and you’d come crying into your nii-san’s arms.

You’re just so damn predictable.

He has every one of your reactions memorized, knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows, when he cups your pretty little face with his large hand, you’ll nuzzle into it. When his thumb runs across the seam of your lips, you’ll open them obediently, pulling his fingers into your mouth and sucking so sweetly.

He knows, because you’ve done it hundreds of times before, but it still feels so fucking good each time. The feel of your tongue swiping across his fingers drives him insane, and he has half a mind to just shove his cock in and fuck your face until you’re crying. But he holds himself back, because you’re pawing at him so cutely, begging for him to fuck you, begging because you need him.

“Please, nii-san,” you babble, your words slurred as they try and push past his fingers. “Need you. Need you so bad, nii-san, need to feel you inside me, please.”

“Be patient,” he says, his hand leaving your mouth and trailing your body. “I need to prep you, or you’ll keep fucking whining about it hurting.”

You shake your head furiously. “I can take it, please!”

He’s so beautiful, your Touya-nii. He looks like a fucking god right now, towering over you, backlit by the hazy yellow of his ceiling light. His fingers leave your body and find his belt instead, and he wastes no time in unbuckling it and shoving his pants down. His cock is already hard and weeping, the prettiest shade of red that you’ve ever seen. He wraps his large hand around it, hissing at the contact, the sound so pretty that it makes your heart sing.

You feel like you’re underwater, like chlorine and salt are filling your nostrils and pooling in your lungs. Your body is buzzing, and you so desperately want to throw caution to the wind and take the edge off. Your fingers are itching to touch yourself. But you know better, know that Touya will be mad. And you want – no, need – to be a good little girl for him. You’ve already given him so much to worry about today, with your whining and crying and babbling.

It’s like he said – you’re a dumb baby, right? That’s what he said, and you know that he’d never lie to you. Nii-san knows best, you remind yourself, chanting it over and over in your head like a prayer. He knows best. He’s the only one you have, and you want so badly to make him proud.

The head of his cock presses against your dripping hole. The feeling makes you flinch, but before you can react and further, he’s already pressing his hips forward. “Fuck!” you exclaim, body stinging at the stretch.

His movement pauses, and he looks down at you with disappointment in his pretty eyes. “C’mon now, princess, you know you’re not supposed to use those bad words.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly backtrack as you realize your mistake. “Sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry! It just felt so good, nii-san, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t thinking!”

He chuckles at that, dipping his head down to nip at your lips with his sharp teeth. “I know, doll,” he whispers against your mouth, his breath tasting like menthol and smoke. “You never think. My dumb baby sister, got no thoughts in that head of yours, huh? No thoughts besides my cock?”

You nod, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Please, Touya-nii. Please fuck me stupid.”

The grin that graces his face is nothing short of sinful. He doesn’t reply with words. Instead, he hooks his massive hands under your knees and pushes up. Your body is like putty in his hands, and you bend at his whims. He folds you up like a doll, your knees pressed up to your chest. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed. But truth be told, you always feel vulnerable around him. You feel like his fiery eyes scorch away at your skin whenever he looks at you, but fuck, you love the burn.

He wastes no time in setting an unrelenting pace, slamming into you so hard that you know your body will be covered in bruises tomorrow morning. Bruises on your inner thighs from his sharp hipbones, bruises on your neck from his teeth. A necklace of purple and blue around your neck in the shape of his fingers. Bruises on your heart from his harsh words, degrading little insults spat against your skin as he fucks into you without mercy. But for every bruise, every insult and painful touch, he gives you the sweetest salve. Pretty little words whispered into your ear, reminders that he loves you, that you’re his.

“My baby,” he grunts, voice shaky from exertion. “Gonna cum. Beg for my cum, my dumb little baby. Fucking beg for it.”

You babble, too far gone for your brain to produce any real thoughts. A jumbled mess of need your cum and please nii-san’s fall past your lips. You can hardly think, but you can always beg for him. Your vision is hazy and your mind is foggy, filled with nothing but thoughts of him, and the feeling of his cock slamming into you, and the heat of his breath against your neck. It hurts, hurts so much, but there’s bliss in the ache.

His fingers slip between your legs and toy with your clit, rubbing harsh circles in time with his thrusts. The combined sensation is too much. With a harsh thrust and squeeze of the hand around your neck, your body explodes. You feel as if you’re in fire, as if there’s electricity coursing through your limbs, burning through your blood and short-circuiting your veins. You cum so hard that it almost hurts, pussy clenching and gushing. Touya lets out a growl, so deep that it makes your stomach flip. He grabs your chin and tilts your face up to meet his, squeezing so hard that the pain cuts through your fucked-out haze and makes you gasp. His lips crash into yours, teeth clacking and tongues swirling as he moans into your mouth and releases. You tremble at the sensation, body overloaded and still buzzing with electricity.

After a few painfully long moments, he shifts and finally lets your legs down. Your muscles scream at the movement. Touya reaches over your body to get a water bottle and press it to your lips, making you tilt your head up and take little sips.

Your arms feel like lead, but you force them to move. They wrap around his waist and tug. Your whines are pitiful, but you’re too tired to be embarrassed. “Snuggles,” you beg, looking up at him with glossy, wide eyes.

“Need to clean you up, doll,” he says. His voice is stern, but there’s a fondness in his expression that warms your heart. You shake your heavy head, trying in vain to drag him closer. He chuckles, dipping down to press an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead. “God, you really are so fucking needy, aren’t you?”

[1kook]

dreamy

—pjm x (f) reader

summary; You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. warnings; ANGST lol, fwb, reader is very :(( rating; mature (18+) bc tiny smut lol  misc; small smut scene, a happy ending <3 wc; 2.5k

notes; i have to post on #JIMIN’s bday or else i cannot live with myself anyway here’s me trying to fit an entire novella plot line in less than 5k words clap for me except maybe don't bc its not proofread anyway hbd jimin <3

Jimin is a nice guy, but you doubt he’d make a nice boyfriend. He fucks you hard and fast, just as you like, but hardly goes out of his way to sprinkle in any other requests. He’s got a one track mind, doesn’t dwell too long on what you say or how you’re feeling. Doesn’t matter because he’s just supposed to be a fuck buddy, the hot guy you met at a party, so you don’t let it phase you. But, well. Jimin is dreamy.

Sometimes he holds your hand while he eats you out and it sends your thoughts into a frenzy, makes your heart pound a little too fast to brush it off as just arousal. He’s got this gorgeous smile, plush lips framing pearly teeth, and when he flashes it your way, it makes your knees weak. Tells you you’re pretty when he picks you up from class, always holds your hand on the way to his place for your routine fuck. Cute and nice like an angel, but just like an angel, he hardly gives a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own.

He laughs when you ask him to hang out that weekend.

“What, like a date?” he snorts, bare chest glistening from his post-fuck exertion. You're pressed against his side now, circling his pretty brown nipple with your finger. “That’s corny.”

You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. “Yeah, silly right,” you murmur, ear pressed to his heart. It’s calming and soothing, a slow thrum that contrasts with your own racing heart.

He’s not one for dates or for romantic things like that. But neither is he some player, a cheater, a two-timer. You can count the number of times he’s slept with someone who wasn’t you in your weird fuck buddy relationship, and all four of those had been when you first started sleeping together and only when you had been out of town. You’re no saint either, so you try to understand. He was just horny, liked getting his dick wet, and sometimes he couldn’t wait for you. Understandable, you tell yourself, but your heart hurts a little bit when he begins snoring without really answering your question.

See the thing is, you really like Jimin. It’s been a little over a year now since you’ve met, so you’ve had plenty of time to learn all about him. He doesn’t like pancakes for breakfast, prefers them for lunch actually, and laughs when you tell him that’s weird. He’s got this really dorky laugh, something between a bell and a whistle— it depends on the situation. Sometimes, Jimin likes when you play with his hair, and other times he doesn’t. He’s a sweet boy, you know he is, so why won’t he settle down?

You hate to attribute it to some past trauma, some “my girlfriend broke my heart when I was seventeen” mess, but the more time that passes you begin to believe it’s true. Jimin was a tough nut to crack, and the longer this drags on, the longer he ignores your feelings, you begin to doubt you will ever see them fulfilled.

Maybe you should end this now before it’s too late.

You don’t stay for breakfast the next morning, simply kiss him goodbye at the door like always. He’s older than you, about two years, so he doesn’t go to school anymore, just chills at home all weekend. “I’ll see you soon?” he grins, low-lidded eyes tracking the movement of your mouth as you bid him adieu. You never give him a solid response, figure a guy like Jimin will forget about you soon enough.

Then, suddenly, it’s been two weeks and he doesn’t reach out. Yeah it hurts, but it’s better than having confessed to him and losing him all at once. You’d rather this ending than the one where he terribly rejects you, breaks your heart into a million pieces, and throws you away. Still, it hurts.

Jimin was so cool. He was smart and confident, had a snappy sort of attitude that he liked to use now and then. He could be mean in bed, lick your cunt until you cried and call you a stupid girl when he wanted to. But that same tongue had snapped at a guy who was trying to pressure you into bed with him at a party. That first night you met, where you had sillily followed him home after his dashing intervention, you had thought it would be nothing more. Just a fling, just a fuck.

But then he was in your bed and in your head, twinkling eyes and cocky grin trailing after you everyday. He was so pretty and so suave, made you feel good even when he was being mean. But you suppose most cocky men like Jimin are like that. They know they don’t disappoint, even when they’re not really trying.

Jimin doesn’t call or text. You don’t see his car pull up outside your campus anymore. He’s gone and that’s that. You cry a little (see: a lot) and pretend you’re over him. You definitely don’t think about his soft laughter or his hands on your chest. Nope.

So that ends.

Or so you think.

Your friends say you’re mopey and sad, too down for someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend. It’s true, which sucks, but they honor your admittance by taking you out to a bar that night. It’s supposed to be chill and relaxing, just some drinks with the girls to soothe your aching heart. But the name of the bar reminds you of something, of someone you can’t reach anymore, and you don’t even know why. You’ve never been here before, never even knew this place existed. But everything about it brings you back to Jimin, like you’re in his space now, and you’re unsure why.

It reminds you of his laugh, his smile, to the point you swear you can hear it, right beside you, down the bar, to your left—

He waves.

There’s this look he used to give you every time he picked you up from your last class, this mix between adoration and lust that made your skin tingle with excitement. It’s not there now, in fact, it’s replaced with the complete opposite. It’s, like, the meanest look he can muster, something akin to a scowl. He smiles, but it’s so plastic-y and fake, it makes your head hurt. He’s so obviously unimpressed with you, probably because you ghosted him before he could ghost you. Maybe his pride is hurt and looking at you grosses him out. Maybe he just hates you.

Either way, eleven pm rolls around and you’re crying in the bathroom. Your friends are out on the floor having fun and singing karaoke. They think you’ve gone inside because you got your period, because that’s what you’ve told them. You don’t know how to explain that your ex who isn’t really your ex is out there looking at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. They’ve never even met Jimin. Why? Because he wasn’t your boyfriend. Who meets their friend’s fuck buddy? No one.

You sniffle, press a balled up tissue against your eyes in a feeble attempt to save your makeup. The bar isn’t that small, but neither is it huge. There’s only a few bathrooms in the back, and you’ve been hogging one of them for some time now. Someone knocks on the door, and you don’t even get the chance to ward them off before the crappy knob jingles and the door bursts open.

“Come on,” he grumbles, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta piss—“

He pauses, meets your eye through the mirror in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you blubber, hurriedly washing your hands in an effort to avoid his gaze. Jimin lingers at the door, which has long since fallen shut, and watches you with the eyes of a hawk. Your hands tremble and shake, fumble over the towel dispenser three times before you’re hastily making your escape. “Sorry,” you mutter again, head downcast as you move around him for the door.

Just as it cracks open, the music from outside filtering in, he slams it shut with a flat palm. You flinch, close in on yourself as he steps behind you. “What’re you doing here, doll?” he murmurs, deep yet careful. Tentative. “You don’t like bars.”

You know you don’t like bars. You didn’t know he knew that. “I’m with some friends,” you explain, jump when a hand touches your shoulder. “I— I’ll leave soon.”

A second attempt for the door is thwarted by Jimin. “Don’t,” he startles, breath heavy against your ear. “Don’t leave again…” he sighs, forehead against your shoulder. And then, quietly, “why did you leave me?”

Your heart syncs up with the music outside, thunders in your ears as you purse your lips. You don’t want to talk about it now, don’t want to confess to these emotions that drown you. Especially not when he’ll never understand nor will he ever care. It’s best to leave it as is, you convince yourself, slowly shrugging him off.

“We don’t want the same things,” you reply, eyes burning with the need to cry like a baby. But it’ll weaken your argument, make you look like the sentimental girl you know he won’t like. “It wouldn’t work anyway.”

The hand on your shoulder jerks you around, makes a gasp catch in your throat when he crowds you against the door. He’s got that same glare on from before, the one he had sent you across the bar earlier, and it makes your lower lip tremble when it’s this close. “You never asked me what I wanted,” he hisses.

It is then that you realize it isn't anger or disgust, but frustration that paints his features. It’s pure, unadulterated confusion and distress on his pretty face, furrowed brows and narrowed eyes pointed your way. You don’t know what it means, don’t know what he wants. “I,” you choke, weakly covering your face with your hand before he can see you crumble. “I just wanted you.”

Jimin deflates, steps closer until his body is pressed against yours, hands on your shoulders. “And you have me, doll,” he murmurs, bumps his nose against yours. “Always have.”

You shake your head, choke on a sob that bubbles up your throat. “No, not like that,” you stress, losing yourself in the emotions you spent so much time bottling up. “I wanted more.”

Jimin shushes you, guides your head into the crook of his neck where you paint his skin in dark mascara tears. “Is this about the date?” he sighs, patting your head gently.

“It’s more than just the date,” you cry, fists curling into the material of his shirt until it rumples beyond repair. He doesn’t understand.

Jimin nods, let’s you cry and sob until you’re feeling better and someone else is pounding at the door, yelling at you two to get a proper room. You don’t want a room, you only want his heart. 

He takes you home again, helps you out of your shoes at the door because you’re still sensitive and quiver like a leaf when you walk. His bedroom is familiar, smells like him and his detergent. You miss it so much, want to savor it once more. Something in your gut says this is the last time, this is just Jimin getting one last fuck out of you before he really abandons you.

So you cry when he sits down on the edge of the bed. He hasn’t even said anything, hasn’t even taken his socks off yet, but you’re already a mess.

And of course he’s there to catch you, tugs you between his legs to look up at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, reaching up to brush away your tears. But it’s not your fault that he looks like that right before he’s going to break your heart.

He’s so cool, even when you’re falling apart in his hands. “You don’t want me,” you sniffle, let him guide you onto his lap. “You just want to fuck and that’s it.”

Jimin leans his forehead against yours, warm breath washing over your skin. “I never said that,” he murmurs. “We’ve been over this.”

You huff. “Well you never said you did either,” you snap, rubbing at your eyes.

You cry and cry some more, until your sobs subside and you’re left with the hiccups afterwards. Jimin maneuvers you beside him, lets your hair spill across the sheets as he lays you down. They smell just like him, make your head spin when he kisses your cheek softly. “I want you,” he confesses. “I want this.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, you don’t,” you sniff, but you’re not so sure. It’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the longest. Hearing him say otherwise sounds weird, even if he’s saying what you want to hear. “You don’t.”

Jimin catches your hand in his, pins it to the mattress. “I want you to be mine,” he adds, swallows your cries of denial with his lips. He kisses softly, and for the first time, it feels like he’s paying attention to you. Not your body or your lust, but your heart. “Had me feeling like shit when you didn’t come back. Like I lost something big.”

You still cry when he kisses down your neck, over your chest. His hands pull your clothes off, carefully like you’re a present for him to unwrap. Those plush lips you love so much drown you in kisses, over your tummy and your mound, until they’re buried between your cunt. “You’re mine,” he husks out, hand entwined with yours.

His eyes are dark from down there, long lashes blinking up at you as he dips his tongue in the places you crave him most. It brings you to a shuddering end, has you whimpering his name into the empty air until your toes are curling and you’re coming against his mouth. Jimin has never shied away from you, and doesn’t know, sits up with a hazy look in his eyes as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Jimin wastes no time undressing, pushes off that sexy jacket until his lithe body is coming into view, thick thighs and lean abdomen. He slides right into you, holds your knees to your chest as he fucks you like never before. It’s slow and sensual, makes you shiver when he says your name in that low register of his. “Don’t leave again,” he whimpers, cock throbbing between your walls. He’s desperate today, ruts like you’ll slip right between his fingertips. It’s funny because you're the same way, clinging onto his shoulders until you’re practically glued together.

You come and so does Jimin. He pants against your ear, feels so warm and heavy on top of you. He doesn’t say much more that night, just plays with your hair. But he asks you on a date, mentions something about a carnival. “Yes,” you respond right away, because, well.

Jimin was dreamy. Maybe he’d be a good boyfriend.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[wisespookysalad69]

This is going to be my first story on here, I've been wanting to post one for a while but haven't gotten to it, I hope you enjoy it

Racing. Part 1

"It's 3 AM go to fucking sleep"

Thats what my roomate Allison said to me as I walked past her room I had gotten my 4th bottle of water since I started my workout to train for my college's 5k for a fundraiser, her door stays open in the summer time, unfortunately. "You'd have to be awake too, to say anything." I spat. "You woke me up, bitch". We giggled and I stomped back upstairs to my room where I continued my workout for another 10 minutes or so, while I was on my treadmill, I started to suddenly become way more out of breath, very rapidly, my heart beating at 230bpm. I hit "STOP" on the machine and walked to a hault all while continuing to get more out of breath rather than recovering. I heard my heart slamming irregularly forceful in my ears, I stepped off of the machine, stood for a second in the quiet, thats when It happened.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump.. THUMPthump--- Thump. Thump. Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump

My heart started to pound even quicker and skip pumps, I got dizzy. I was wearing a low cut tank top and sweat started to emerge in between my C-cup breasts, "This irregular pounding in my chest beneath my ribs.. It's.. turning me on a little" No. This was a serious thing.. BOOM BOOM.. I gasped and put my hand to my chest "my heart. It's fuckin slamming against my ribs. It's causing my chest to hurt". The pain spread across my chest and I started to pant. 240 bpm. BABUMPBABUMP.......BUMP. thumpthUmp.. "my heart feels like... *gasp* it's gonna.. *gasp* give out." I decide to push my heart." I'm so stupid for this.. ' I thought. I started doing some jumping jacks and almost immediately, my heart reacted. It buckled up in my chest and began to pump extremely rapidly and irregularly, I brought my hand to my chest, I could feel each contraction of my heart ventricles, but they were far too strong, the beat was so visible on my chest i could almost make out the outline of my heart. I've had an xray done of my heart which I have seen, I have a rather large heart for a girl, high in the chest. "Am.. am I killing myself?" I thought. "Is this this serious?" A sudden prominent ache filled my chest again. Only this time it forced me to stop jumping. I was incredibly short of breath.. heart pumping at 239 bmp, irregular.. could barely get a full beat in. I fell to the ground.. my heart started to slow. My heart pumped forcefully and uncomfortably. It was around 80 bpm already.. ...THUMP THUMP. THUMPthump. Slower... 30 bpm.. painful.. visible "my heart... *inhales sharply* its gonna fail.. I was confused. For i had no heart conditions or symptoms previously. I called for Allison my roomate and she rushed up the stairs....

To be continued.

I hope that wasn't cringey lol I'll have part two up as soon as possible !

[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone Who, Like it Or Not, Will Want You to Share a Little a Lot

BEING ALIVE Chapter 9

PREVIOUS CHAPTER   

A/N: This is my submission for @thatesqcrush​ kink bingo square praise!kink. Also this chapter went a lot different than I originally planned but it just hit me like a ton of bricks so I hope it’s clear what I’m going for. IDK time to flip the script a little! Also if you saw this posted and disappear it’s because tumblr hates me ok sorry

Content Warning: Smut (ahah) and vague mentions of past abuse (if you’ve been reading the story you know)

Word Count: 5k (sorry lol)

(also how did I never see this gif before fuck me)

“I got you something,” Rafael says. You’re in his office for a lunch break, making sure he eats the salad you’d made for him. Sometimes he still hates you. When you try and shove lettuce down his throat, well, that’s one of those times. But he knows it’s for his own good, like most things you do with him in mind.

“Ooh, we’re doing birthday gifts already?“ you ask, kissing his cheek. "I figured I’d see you later… you’re coming to the restaurant, right? I really don’t think Sonny knows what ‘surprise’ means, but hey. It’s nice of him and the squad.”

“Yes. I know all about it. He hasn’t left me alone for the past two weeks.”

“Nice to know someone cares about me,” you tease, and Rafael rolls his eyes.

“Well, anyway, I figured I’d see you at lunch today, so I brought this one thing with me. I wanted you to wear it tonight. Don’t worry, cariño, you have plenty of other gifts waiting for you at my place.”

“I told you not to go all out. I’m only turning 26. 35 is the next big one.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “35? I thought it was 30?”

"No. I think 30 will be just another one. Everyone makes it a big deal because it ends in a 0, but I don’t think it is. 35 is where the line is crossed. That’s when you’re officially middle-aged,” you say, grinning a little.

“Jesus, so what am I? Ancient?”

“No. You’re still middle-aged,” you giggle. “You’re getting there, though.”

“Mm. Right. Remind me why I spent money on you again?”

“Because…” you drawl, pulling him in by his tie to press your lips to his. And oh, it’s a mesmerizing kiss, like most of them are: one of your hands moves to the back of his head, pulling him in ever closer, and you’re slipping your tongue in his mouth, the acidic tinge of the vinaigrette you had been eating just the jolt he needed to get him to grasp for you. His hands slip under your shirt, earning a gasp from you, but Rafael remembers he’s in his office and the shades aren’t drawn and keeps his hands on your waist. You’re not close enough; you’re never close enough. “That’s why. Right?”

“Right. I forgot,” he snickers, pecking your lips. “Do you want your present or not?”

“Of course, honey.”

So he gets up and pulls out a jewelry box from his desk drawer, taking a deep breath, unsure of why he was so nervous. He smiles awkwardly, walking back over to the table and handing it to you.

“Open it, cariño.”

You do, your hands shaking a little as you unlatch the box, revealing a simple, delicate gold chain with an emerald pendant attached to it. You don’t say anything, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

“Do you not like it?” he asks, cursing himself. He should’ve asked you to pick something else out.

“Rafael, I can’t accept this. How much money was this? I can’t…”

“It doesn’t matter. I bought it for you, and I want you to have it. Do you like it, (y/n)?”

“I love it, Rafael, but it’s too much… I told you not to spend too much.”

Who was counting? He wasn’t above sharing his wealth that he’d worked to accrue. It was nice to be able to give, sometimes, and that was the expectation, wasn’t it? It was your birthday, he was your boyfriend, and he would be damned if he was outdone by anyone on the squad tonight.

"Just let me give this to you. Please,” he says. “And don’t cry.” God, you were always crying. Too much. You were an emotional person, and internalized everything, good or bad. He’d have to talk you out of ways you put yourself down frequently, but lately he’s been finding it hard to be bothered by it, because you’d smile after he smoothed out the knots in your mind, and kiss him like you meant it. “Stand up. Let me put it on.”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding and getting up. “This is the nicest thing…anyone’s ever bought for me. Don’t think I don’t want it, Rafael, I do, but it’s… I was shocked at first. I don’t want to put you out.”

"Shh,” he says, taking the necklace out of the box and pushing your hair aside. He kisses the back of your neck, placing the necklace on your skin and clasping the hook.

“I like the pendant,” you say, fingering it between your pointer finger and thumb. “It reminds me of your eyes. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it. I’m not in the habit of buying jewelry, really. I never had anyone to buy anything for, so I didn’t know…”

“You have good taste,” you say, turning around and smiling, but then your face falls a little. “But… Rafael… how long?”

“How long what?”

“How long did you live like that? Alone? I mean, after Yelina, did you ever get that close again?”

He sighs, leaning against the table. He doesn’t want to divulge this, but at the same time he feels like he has to share. “There was a man. I was… 35,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “But we didn’t work out. Guess I didn’t get the memo that that’s when I was supposed to have my shit together. And I just… I just gave up after that. I had flings, but never got that close again.”

"Honey, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I was only joking about the middle-age thing—“

Rafael waves his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, (y/n).”

“You sure?”

“Mm,” he says, putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Eight years is a long time, though.”

"It is… and if I ever seem distant, I don’t mean to be. I’m just used to being alone.”

“I don’t want you to ever get used to that again, honey,” you say, leaning against the table next to him. “You get used to me being here. Soy tuyo y… eres mio.”

He kisses you then, urgently. God, you were going to start talking to him in Spanish now? Even if all you knew was elementary level, he was a goner.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, because Carisi’s knocking on the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Counselor, but I need to borrow the birthday girl,” he says, smiling brightly in that annoying way he always did. “We need her more than you right now.”

"What happened? I told Olivia an hour,” you ask, taking Rafael’s hand in your own as he pulls away from your mouth.

“Yeah, well, you know you can ask for an hour… but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it. She told me to come pick you up. We got a lead, and if you wanna get out by dinner…”

You roll your eyes at Sonny, then glance at Rafael. "Looks like I have to cut this short. Bye, honey,” you say, kissing him. “Make sure you eat your salad.”

“Yeah, Barba. Gotta get those greens in,” Carisi chuckles as you both give him a look. “What? It’s cute that you worry about his health. My ma, she’s always on my father about taking his meds, and she cooks for him, makes sure he goes for walks.”

“Well, I can’t have Rafael dying on me,” you say, putting on your coat. “I’d miss him too much.” You flash Rafael a smile, heading out with Carisi’s arm around your shoulder.

Sometimes he still feels a pang in his chest when he sees you with Carisi. Things seemed so easy between the two of you, so simple, like you’d been friends for decades as opposed to the months Carisi had been on the SVU. And Carisi was still annoying, God, the man never shut up about anything, and his off-color comments were more than eyebrow-raising at times. In some ways, Carisi was your work-husband, and Rafael supposes that’s to be expected. Partners got close, maybe even closer than some legal marriages.

Another reason why it was a sham. Right? Just because you didn’t have a ring on your finger or his last name didn’t mean you weren’t close to him.

But you could always be closer. Too close for comfort. Wake up next to him every day, brush your teeth in the bathroom next to him while he shaves, argue with him about not taking the trash out on time or something equally mundane. Sounds like hell. Sounds like monotony. Sounds like settling, maybe more on your part than his.

Because who would be able to marry you and call that settling?

Aside from the fact that marriage was always a risk for settling - because what are the odds you pick the right stranger off the streets of New York to bind yourself to for the rest of your life? Another hundred people were always getting off trains, getting on buses, leaving crowded streets to catch planes into or out of this city.

Rafael, though, he was always staying in the same place.

And, even though it may be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, the fact remains that somewhere on some paper in that precinct, your name is next to Carisi’s, billing you as partners. There was no such record of you and Rafael anywhere, not even a Facebook status. And that? From a legal standpoint, if one wanted to be crude, you two were nothing more than friends who fucked. Even if you did live together (which you didn’t) common law marriage wasn’t legal in New York.

So. Legally, if you went down that convoluted path, maybe you were closer to Carisi.

Rafael isn’t sure what to think about that. He’s over the jealousy; it’s been long enough now that he trusts you not to do anything stupid, and as much as Rafael hates to admit it he believes Carisi’s too set in his morals to even look at you suggestively. But it’s still something to think about, isn’t it?

——

“You look gorgeous,” Rafael whispers in your ear, helping you zip up your dress. You did; clad in a crushed velvet emerald long-sleeve number - yet another thing Rafael shelled out money for - and there’s a sense of pride in seeing it match perfectly with the necklace he’d gifted you earlier. “But I already can’t wait to bring you back here.”

“Mm, is that yet another present, honey?” you ask, pressing back against him. “You’ve really been spoiling me.”

“You’ve been a good girl. You deserve it,” he says, chuckling as you shiver.

“We’re gonna be late. Not nice to tease me,” you pout.

“I’ll make it up to you tenfold. Put your shoes on.”

The restaurant is nicer than Rafael thought the squad would pick out when they mentioned this idea to him a few weeks ago, but he has half a mind that they thought Rafael would help cover most of the bill. Which he did, as expected. Give a little, get a lot. Something like that. Like it or not, he’s dating the birthday girl, and he’s expected to be more giving than usual. By you, too, of course, even if you would never voice that assumption. He couldn’t very well buy himself suits that cost two grand for no reason and justify not spending the same amount or more on you on special occasions.

“Hey, happy birthday! Surprise!” Carisi says as you get to the table.

You roll your eyes at him before hugging him. “You said happy birthday to me, like, what? Twenty times today? It’s not a surprise anymore. But thank you.”

“Hey. Dream team. Had to do something for the best pardna in the world,” he says.

“Well, damn, Barba, you got (y/n) dressing to the nines too, now,” Amanda says when she sees you, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently. “I feel underdressed now.”

“Nah, you look beautiful, Amanda,” you tell her, grinning back. “Blue’s your color.”

“Green’s definitely yours.”

This is the first time the whole squad has gone out with Rafael present since they found out for certain that the two of you were dating, and Rafael isn’t quite sure what to make of the atmosphere. He still feels excluded as the only lawyer present at a table full of detectives, and he thought maybe a known tie to you would change that, but it doesn’t, not much. Everyone falls into telling stories, and tonight they mostly concern you - but Rafael has none he wants to share even if maybe you expect him to contribute to the conversation.

What could he say that they didn’t already know?

Besides, what the hell did they think about him? He can only imagine what went through their heads once it was confirmed that he was dating you.

Isn’t he a little bit, well… too much of a smartass? Tacky, in the sense that he’s still that same kid from the barrio trying to fit in with the upper-class of New York with expensive suits and a brass ego? Old? Short? Aggressive (maybe more so passively)? Neurotic? Peculiar? Depressing?

God, he’s practically old enough to be your father.

Everyone was always trying to set you up with someone before they knew you weren’t single, whether it be Sonny with his Fordham buddies or Amanda with her men from god-knows-where or even Olivia one time with a sergeant from a different department. Maybe it’s because you’re beautiful, and beautiful people don’t stay single for long (unless, perhaps, if they were surly and standoffish, which you weren’t in the slightest). You’re a charmer, even if you don’t necessarily mean to be. A flirt without quite realizing it, without being too much of a threat. Pleasant to be around. Easy to like. A little shy, a little rough around the edges, a little stoic at first, sure, but that was easily overlooked and if someone put in the time, you were an open book.

It was easy to pity you. Maybe that shouldn’t be how he sees you, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel so damn bad given everything that’s happened to you. And he knows that’s how the squad feels too. Sure, you could handle yourself on your own, but no one wanted to let you. It’s in Olivia’s eyes when she looks at you sympathetically, it’s in Amanda’s hand when she squeezes your shoulder, it’s in Carisi’s insistence on putting himself in harms’ way so you wouldn’t ever have to take the fall: Poor baby. We’re the only tenderness you’ve ever known.

And maybe that’s true, maybe this squad was the only kind of lasting kindness you’d ever been shown. You don’t talk much about your past, and that’s fair, because Rafael doesn’t think there’s much that would be pleasant to recount. After the rape, middle school was difficult for you, as was to be expected, and you didn’t have many friends that stuck around. He’s never heard you say a word about high school, and sure, college was probably a lot better than the hell you’d been through before, but you had no one you kept in contact with from there, not even the woman you mentioned sleeping with before. Maybe life hasn’t handed you all the wrong cards: you’re gorgeous, you’re intelligent, you’re great at your job.

But in the interpersonal sphere, you’re lacking, maybe as sorely as Rafael, and that’s something he never quite thought about until now. You didn’t wear it like he did though, and you still had hope, somehow, whereas Rafael’s supplies of optimism had been used up over the years. Maybe one day you’d run out, too.

Leave it to Rafael to bring the melancholy to a birthday party.

But you wouldn’t bring the squad home; you couldn’t. On the nights you didn’t spend at Rafael’s or the nights he didn’t spend at your apartment, you were as alone as he was. He wonders, did you sit there and stare at the walls, struggle to sleep without him by your side… or did you not care?

“Honey, I was talking about you,” you say, giggling a little, and he feels your hand on his shoulder bring him back to the present. “You’ve been out of it, tonight, huh? Anyway, I was going to ask if you’d tell them about your theatre productions—“

“Oh, Jesus, (y/n), why the hell are you going to bring that shit up?” he asks, feeling a slight blush creep up his neck. “I told you about that in confidence.”

“Oh, come on. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, come on, Barba. She’s the birthday girl. You gotta do what she says,” Carisi chimes in.

Rafael glares at him and sighs. "Fine.”

“Floor is yours, Counselor,” Amanda says, winking. “Maybe you can sing for us, too.”

“Fine. I was in theatre in middle and high school. Happy?” he snaps. He knows he shouldn’t be so mean, and this was trivial, but he could do without the little jabs from the squad and your puppy-dog eyes.

“Why do you have to be like that, Rafi?” you ask. “Come on. Tell them the production in eighth grade.”

“This really means that much to you?“

"Will you just tell the story?” you ask. “No one will make fun of you, honey. I won’t let them.”

“Mm. Right. Well, my school couldn’t get the licensing rights to anything actually good that year for the Christmas musical… so we did A Christmas Peter Pan. It was about as awful as you think it would be.”

“What part did you play?” Olivia asks. Of course she’s the only one at the table who’s not tittering with laughter.

“I didn’t try out soon enough, and they didn’t have any parts left… so I played the crocodile.”

Amanda damn near spits out her drink, and Rafael rolls his eyes as Carisi laughs heartedly and Fin and Nick try and fail to not crack teasing smiles.

“I just really can’t picture that, Barba. Damn,” Carisi says after he calms down. “How bad was the costume?”

“What do you think a middle school theatre department could put together?” Rafael asks, narrowing his eyes. “Anyway. I didn’t have any lines, at least.”

“No, but you had three scary entrances,” you tease, grinning brightly and squeezing his shoulder. “Hey. It was your debut. I can’t wait until I get your mother to show me pictures—“

“Send them to me,” Amanda says. “I’m begging you.”

“I’m going to get my mother to burn that scrapbook before you’re ever in its vicinity,” Rafael mutters, chuckling.

“Aw, come on, honey, don’t be like that. You know I’d never let Amanda see them. Sonny, maybe—“

“Hey!” Amanda interjects while Rafael shoots you a withering look.

“No, I wouldn’t let him see them either. Some things are actually meant to be shared in confidence,” you laugh. “But anyway, Rafael went on to bigger and better things. He played Kenickie in Grease sophomore year, right? And you got the lead senior year?”

“Mm. Nathan Detroit. Guys and Dolls.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Carisi says.

“Of course you don’t,” Rafael retorts.

“It was a big part. He says his mother has a tape of that somewhere—“

“Are you trying to kill me, (y/n)?” Amanda asks exasperatedly. “The knowledge that that’s on film and I’ll never see it?”

“Mm. Deal with it. That’s not the one you wanna make fun of though,” you say. “Rafael can sing. He never will in front of you guys now, but he can.”

Right. Little things he’d shared with you, maybe without even meaning to, and now you could list them off as nonchalantly as if you were talking about yourself. Did any of his ex-lovers ever bother to learn all his amateur theatre roles front to back?

Thankfully, the waitress brings the cake over after a few minutes, saving him from more humiliation, and everyone, even Rafael, obliges and sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to you before you blow out the candles.

“Well, our blessings, (y/n),” Olivia says, grinning.

“Don’t tell your wish or it won’t come true,” Fin chuckles.

“Actually… I didn’t wish for anything,” you say, shrugging.

“What do you mean, you didn’t wish for anything?” Carisi asks.

“Tell, but lie,” Nick says.

“Nah. I’ve got everything I want. Thank you for including me in your thoughts, your lives—“

“Aww. Stay exactly as you are, (y/n),” Carisi says, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “What a sweetheart, huh, Barba?”

“Everyone adores you, (y/n),” Amanda laughs. “What an awful thing.”

Yeah. Everyone did adore you - but you weren’t an unshakable tenant in anyone’s life.

And, come to think of it, neither was Rafael. Rafael was always confused as to why the hell you even approached him all those months ago, flirted with him, got him to buy you dinner… but fuck, it was clear now. You were alone, grasping at straws just like he was. A couple months in the city you dreamed of living in since you were a child provided you with nothing more than acquaintances you worked and occasionally got drunk with, and maybe it was human nature to want more than that.

Yet here you were insisting that you didn’t wish for anything. What the hell? Didn’t you want more than what Rafael was giving you? Shouldn’t you?

Fuck if he knows. He’s not even sure what he wants anymore, never mind what you want.

——

Rafael has never been above sharing his body for someone else’s pleasure. It felt good to give in this regard, and fuck it, if anyone deserved to have a good, healthy sex life it was you.

It had been a long road to get you comfortable - yes, the first time you had sex with him you were more than a willing participant - but he’d notice sometimes when he initiated things, you would space out and become unresponsive. That was absolutely not going to work for him. He’s been prosecuting sex crimes long enough for that to turn his stomach in the worst way. The last thing he’d want is to take advantage of someone who was lying underneath him just because they thought it would appease him, not because they genuinely wanted to be there.

You got mad at him the first time he brought it up; said he was reading too much into things - but eventually you came around and admitted what had made you uncomfortable, what had turned you off, what had made you freeze, and what it came down to was years of trauma that no one had bothered to work through, not even yourself. What started with the rape went on to college boys who wouldn’t keep their hands to themselves and tried to pressure you when you weren’t ready - and you’d never quite learned to say no. You said you didn’t want to share this, didn’t want him to think you were some perpetual victim or that you didn’t enjoy sex - because you had had positive sexual experiences aside from Rafael, obviously - but sometimes all it took was a touch in the wrong place and you shut down. You still had issues here and there, but at least you’d actually fucking talk to him now, which was progress. He would’ve thought for an SVU detective with a psychology degree this wouldn’t be an issue, but maybe it’s how it goes - you put all your energy out there for the victims and you never learn how to unlearn your own toxic thought cycles and behaviors.

Also, Rafael learned, through trial and error, that you liked to be praised. Maybe it was after years of being ashamed of your body and sex, after years of feeling like you were inexperienced because you never met anyone worth having experiences with… but it was almost like you got off on it and Rafael wouldn’t really mind if that was the case. You are a good girl - his good girl - especially now, as he’s sitting at his desk chair in his apartment and you’re riding his thigh, your dress ridden up to your waist. Your lips are kiss-bruised and you’re so wet he can feel you seep through your panties to his dress pants.

Fuck it if you ruined them. Fuck it if you ruined him.

“Yes, good girl, you gonna get off on my thigh, (y/n)?” he asks, his voice low in your ear.

“I don’t know if I can,” you laugh. “Might need some assistance.”

“No, I think you can. Want you to try it. You think you’re close, mi buena chica?”

“Mm, don’t know. I didn’t think I was gonna have to work this hard on my birthday,” you say, leaning down to kiss his mouth. “Don’t you think those hands could be of good use somewhere?”

“Maybe. Where do you want them?“

"Mm, fucking everywhere,” you drawl.

For Rafael, sex was always just fun. Usually, it was better if he knew the person at least a little, but after Yelina, he didn’t care as much and was a little more of a libertine. Sex with you, though; it’s different - it’s a conversation - maybe like it’s supposed to be, sharing what you can’t or what you won’t say with words.

Maybe he should feel more flattered, because you were sharing a lot, too.

Rafael gives you what you want, though, cupping your breasts as he kisses you, murmuring words of encouragement in your ear in between - “Yes, just like that, you can do it, come for me, such a good girl, come on, cariño” - and when you do finally fall apart, he peppers your face with kisses. “See? I told you.”

“Mm. Sometimes you’re right,” you giggle, kissing the side of his mouth. “But I’m not working that hard for the next orgasm.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles.

And you don’t; Rafael brings you over the edge with his tongue and fingers, but you’ve barely come down from your high before he’s on his back, at your mercy instead.

“What are you doing? Didn’t think you wanted to work for it anymore,” he teases as you press kisses on his chest.

“Nah, you’re gonna fuck me, hombre, but I want to do something for you first,” you purr, trailing down lower, lower, lower…

“It’s your birthday–”

“Mm. Yeah. But now I just guaranteed that you have to go down on me on yours,” you giggle. “No. We’re not counting favors here, right? Just let me.”

And you’re so good. You always are, but every time just seems to get better as you learn more of what he likes, what gets him off. He wonders vaguely if he you feel that way too, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on that as your lips wrap around his cock. “Fuck, so good, (y/n),” he hisses. If he wasn’t almost painfully hard before he definitely is now. “That’s it, oh fuck.”

One of your hands comes to cup his balls gently as your tongue and lips work his cock and it’s hard to remember that you were ever tentative giving him a blowjob before. Maybe that’s the thing about sex; everyone thinks they need experience to be a good lover, but maybe they don’t. Maybe they just need to listen to their partner. Rafael’s slept with people who have slept with countless numbers of people but no one’s ever learned his body like you, and your count was much lower. Granted, Rafael never quite allowed himself this type of vulnerability with anyone else in recent history, either, but it was only fair that if some of your walls came down some of his did as well.

Still, he has to make sure you know that by gasping out praise and encouragement, tangling his hands in your hair, being careful not to pull too harshly. “Fuck, so good at that, sucking my cock so good, se buena, mm, fuck.”

Eventually, though, Rafael can feel that he’s dangering the brink and has to stop you. Switching positions again - you’re on your back for him now - and he’s lining up his cock with your pussy, making sure you’re still good. With your consent, he enters you, groaning softly at finally feeling you wet and warm around his cock.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” he grunts as he starts fucking in and out of you, slowly at first.

“I’d hope you think so,” you say.

“Think - no. You are. Fucking gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush a little and he can’t believe you still get flustered when he tells you that. But you are a vision - hair splayed on his pillow, your breasts heaving in tandem with your breath, your skin shining with a slight sheen of perspiration. Yeah. Fucking gorgeous.

And, oh fuck, now you’re clawing at his back, scratching with your nails. A shiver runs down his spine as he fucks into you harder, “That good?”

“Fuck, yeah, Rafael, fuck me,” you whine and he leans down to press a searing kiss to your mouth.

“Mm, so pretty, taking my cock so well, cosita bonita, so good for me,” he rasps in your ear.

You’re meeting him thrust for thrust; the only sounds Rafael can hear is the slap of skin on skin and his heart pounding in his ears as he kisses up and down your neck. “Mm, Rafael, feels so good,” you purr, and yeah, now he can see why you get off on those simple words of encouragement.

It’s not long before the two of you reach your highs and come down, a panting, tangled mess twisted up in his bedsheets. “Mm. Feliz cumpleaños, cariño.”

“Yeah, happy birthday to me,” you laugh, leaning over to snuggle against his chest. “Fuck, I’m exhausted now.”

“Thought I was supposed to be the old one.”

“Like you could go for another round right now.”

“Try me, mujer,” he chuckles. “Shower?”

“In a minute,” you giggle. “Let my heart rate come down a little.”

The two of you lay there in silence, your breathing rates settling while Rafael’s mind sets off to the races again. You were right, earlier, eight years was a fucking long time and it didn’t get any easier to be alone.

It doesn’t get any easier to be with someone, either, though, like when you wake him up too early in the morning and ruin his precious sleep, or when you make snide remarks that ruin his day and bruise his ego or, worst of all, as always: when you see right through him, like the front he puts up just doesn’t exist.

Maybe, though, maybe he’s a masochist because god forbid you leave. Here he was, carving out hours of his precious time; time he used to tell his mother he never had to spare, and sharing it with you. And you wanted him to.

Rafael doesn’t know what the hell to make of that.

Tag list: @caked-crusader​ @thatesqcrush​ @law-nerd105​ @arabellathorne​ @blackeyedangel9805​ @moon-river-drifter

[crazycookiemaniac]

Omg why are you losing so many followers youve been drawing gay shit for forever??? (Or maybe i as a gay was just interpreting it that way)

Because I literally spammed people every day for one week lmao. And also, a lot of people follow others for specific content. The moment I stop drawing that exact thing they followed me for, they unfollow me. There are also accounts that follow just to make you follow them & if you don’t, they unfollow you after a while. There’s people who followed me for haikyuu & weren’t interested in BC content, and there were people who followed me for BC content but got showered in gay art instead and that was not their cuppa tea. 

But mostly, i start appearing on people’s feed the more I post. So having me post incessantly for one week made me show up on feeds that I hadn’t shown up for  a good while, so there were probably people who forgot they had followed me in the first place & me posting was a reminder to unfollow.

Truthfully, follower counts are dumb. Yes, it is important for you to have a high follower count for you to get attention, but the amount of people actually following you if you don’t have a consistent art style & rarely ever post something with different vibes than your usual ones, is equal or less than 1% of your total amount of following.

My instagram tells me I have 43k. I do not have 43k people following me. I’ve had 43k that once saw my account & pressed the follow button, but their feeds are filled up with other people’s accs that interest them more than mine (as well as my own feed does not show all the content of the 200+ something people I follow, unless I scroll down till the depths of hell to find every single post on that day and then do so on the next day as well).

Essentially, 95% of your followers are there because of content. They want to see what entertains them. Most of them don’t care about the artist and don’t interact with them at all. Many of them are scared to, given the high follower count. Social media & big accounts make people forget that there are other, real, living & breathing people that are behind them all.

So, to many, I was just a random artist they found and “lol”ed at one of my comics & pressed follow without thinking about it. Most of them don’t go to my account and see all other art I’ve posted to see if they actually like what I do, or me as a person and as an artist at all.

People who don’t know this get really discouraged when they don’t earn a lot of followers, or when they lose a lot (like I did). And some people think you gotta have hundreds of thousands to be famous. I’ve seen accs going around that paid for ads, that had over 150k followers and less than 1k likes on their posts.

Truly famous, loved, growing and/or steady accounts have an amount of likes per post proportional to their follower count. For example, if someone has 150k followers, most of their posts will vary from 20k to 100k likes.

When I was growing my account because I hopped in the fandom bandwagon and stupid little me didn’t know that would only make me crash later, I had like 20~30k and some of my posts reached more than 20k likes (because people liked my stupid comics). Nowadays, I’m not part of the fandom that made me grow anymore. I’m part of a very underrated one (Black Clover), as well a I am drawing a very underrated ship (LuGna) that above all else is getting hated on. I have everything against me in this, so it’s no wonder I lost so many followers.

They didn’t wanna see gay art. They didn’t wanna see Black Clover. They didn’t even know what the fuck was going on. Not everyone paid attention or kept up with my warnings. Despite me explaining multiple times in multiple posts what the Thunder Flames project was about, a lot of people still didn’t know what I was doing that for.

The thing about being a big follower count is that, unless you’re actually loved for what you do (and to do that, once again, I need to emphasize that you need to keep a steady rhythm, a steady vibe, a steady you. Because people follow you for your first impression on them, and you gotta keep up to that first impression if you wanna keep your followers.

I’m unsteady. One look at my gallery and you’ll see how disorganized everything is. Oh, lookit, a 1 min speedpaint of a random drawing I did on an old piece of paper! And right on the left there’s a stupid random comic I did–on the right there’s this super detailed, shaded drawing I’ve done that actually looks terrible to me and I will 100% archive it later, and then there’s B&W mixed with gray shaded, flat colored and fully shaded characters of different fandoms + OCs from commissions and whatever else. 

The thing is, I made my follower count based on a fandom, and now that I’m not there most of that follower count does not have me on their feed. And most of them do not want me on their feed. Now, I’m trying to build a follower count for who I am as an artist, because the few people who have actually stayed and followed me throughout the years know how inconsistent I am in terms of art style, fandoms and everything else.

A solution to this would me either keep creating/posting the same thing all over again (just in different patterns), or creating original content (which I do plan on doing at some point). But for now? Since my follower count does absolutely not reflect on how many people actually like me and/or my art, I’m going to be as chaotic as fucking ever and do whatever the fuck I want.

So yes, I do find it comical that I lost 1k followers over this and am not fazed in the very least, especially because I literally foreshadowed losing 1k and hit the fucking jackpot.

The only reason I’m talking about this at all is because 1- it’s impossible not to notice my follower count decreasing, especially because every new 1k I thank people publicly through stories; 2- some people were actually worried I was upset over it and I have to 3- show that I am not, while simultaneously trying to show people that just because you’re losing followers doesn’t mean you have to stop doing what you want to create content to please people. It doesn’t mean you should be upset, and it doesn’t mean that what you’re doing is bad or wrong.

It means you’re fucking renewing your followers & you’ll now grow for what you’re trying to grow for, bitch. That’s what it’s all about.

Obviously, people do take a great risk doing this. I am taking a great risk doing this. I could’ve lost 5k, I could’ve lost 10k. But I only lost 1k! And that’s because I believe in the project I worked on; I knew there were people out there who enjoyed what I was doing and it’s on them that I was focused on. On the people who supported me AND my art, not just that one single funny comic post I did 3 years ago.

This answer is 100% a lot longer than what you could’ve possibly expected for and I am typing this while being awake for more than 24h so I’m sure that I’ve repeated myself a lot and that there are a lotta typos or w/e and I apologize for that!! But I’m too lazy to go back to read everything over & turn this into a neat post & I’m pretty sure I could answer your question in the first paragraph.

Oh and also. Yes. Yes I have been drawing gay shit ever since I’ve become an artist because I’m so fucking pissed at the lack of canon gay content in a way that it’s depicted as a normal fucking romantic couple instead of having eeeeeeeeveryone point their finger to the gay couple and scream “HEY THAT’S GAY!!! THIS CAN’T BE PART OF THIS VERY HETEROSEXUAL SHOW WHERE EVERYONE IS OBVIOUSLY HETEROSEXUAL EVEN THOUGH NONE OF THE CHARACTERS HAVE EVER SAID THAT EXPLICITLY BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT THE CREATORS ARE EITHER HETEROSEXUAL OR TOO AFRAID TO LOSE AUDIENCE IF THEY TREAT GAY PEOPLE AS NORMAL PEOPLE!??!! WHAT SORT OF ABSURD NONSENSE IS THAT??!! GAY PEOPLE AREN’T NORMAL!! THEY’RE GAY AND THEY SHOULD HAVE A GAY SHOW JUST FOR THEM IF THEY WANNA GET SCREENTIME” and yadda yadda yadda.

I’m tired of this bullshit. Ever since I was an artist I’ve been rooting for gay ships in shonen manga while knowing they would never happen just because they were gay, and now that we are in our Blessed-By-Satan, Pandemic-Chaotic, What-The-Fuck-Is-Going-On, We-Don’t-Know-If-We-Wanna-Go-Back-Or-To-The-Future-Or-Just-IDK-Fucking-Die year 2020, in which the LGBT community is thriving and being louder than ever to fight for our rights, Me, in my twenty four years of fucking age, having gone through several fucking disappointments ONLY regarding this matter, am sitting here on my ass, hopeful as all galactic, glittery shit that for some fucking reason, my new OTP formed by very underrated characters from this very underrated franchise in the southern and western communities, becomes canon because my stupid eyes can see chemistry between them even though those stupid haters’ can’t. But that’s because they’re stupid and homophobic, and they really should just shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna dream, I want to believe. Let a bitch pray in peace.

But even if I’m getting ready for disappointment, I’m gonna make this project happen and I’m gonna have a shit ton of artbooks from this Thunder Flames project inside my fucking garage if no one wants to buy them. But I am going to invest a shit ton of money in it and I am going to have these artbooks come to life. Because I am spiteful and petty and homophobes should shut the fuck up, and I wanna do what I wanna do bc as an independent artist, I’m building my future with my own two, very toned and buff by now from all the drawing I did, hands. 

God fucking damn it.

Jesus christ I’m just rambling at this point, I’m so sorry. If anyone ever reads this out of context people are going to be so confused.

But that’s fine. They won’t. You know why? Cuz I got almost 11k followers here on tumblr but less than 0.5% gives a shit that I’m here, so I’m safe.

Have a nice day, drink your water and fuck homophobes. Peace

[smallblueandloud]

hi essbie!! you seem super awesome❤️❤️ if you would like to talk to me about the west wing i would love that! i’m watching for the first time now and i’m in LOVE with it- tell me all your thoughts! otps, favorite episodes, arcs, characters... anything!

oh my god, this is my FAVORITE ASK THAT I HAVE EVER RECEIVED EVER. i’m so happy to talk about the west wing because the fandom that’s still alive today seems to be TINY (although high-spirited!!). thank you for asking!! i will endeavor to talk a lot.... which isn’t hard for me, lol.

(psst, before we begin, can i recommend you check out @donnajosh, who posts gorgeous new gifsets of tww pretty regularly [and also has gifs tagged by episode so you can find the right post to reblog when you’re liveblogging, shh], @etraytin, who’s written some AMAZING multichaps that have gotten me through this very stressful week, and @cassiesinsanity, who’s just plain genuinely amazing?? okay. now that that’s out of the way.)

i tried to figure out from your blog where you are in the show, but i can’t find anything more detailed than “probably has finished in the shadow of two gunmen”, so i’m just gonna keep things anti-spoilers. there are some really, really cool plot developments in tww, and i don’t recommend you spoil yourself for things on purpose! but also like. i DEFINITELY spoil things for myself all the time. so what the hell, don’t listen to me lol.

(i tried to put this under a cut, but tumblr glitched. sorry, peeps who don’t care about the west wing. also, WATCH THE WEST WING.)

my ALL TIME, dearest headcanon is adhd josh. i just. i love my boy so much. i love my impulsive, ridiculously-sensitive-to-perceived-rejection, loud, hyperfixated boy so much. i don’t know everything about adhd, but from what i know josh is TEXTBOOK. or at least he’s a lot like me! and i’m reasonably sure i have adhd. so. i’m REALLY, REALLY into that headcanon and everything about it. (i actually wrote a fic in which i wrote him the way i see his adhd presenting, because i love him so much. hmm, i should write a fic about josh being adhd. what kind of stims would josh like??)

i love and adore josh/donna, like many many other people. i like zoey/charlie, just because i think they make each other happy and both of them deserve that. i... like cj/danny? sorta? i think they’re adorable, and they have some REALLY good moments (no spoilers but. oh my god. danny really out here chugging his respect women juice and i love him for it). but also i am EXTREMELY ATTACHED to cj/toby and more specifically cj/toby/andy.

HEAR ME OUT. cj has EXTREME wlw energy and cj and toby have A LOT of married energy but then toby and andy... love each other so much, it’s so clear, in literally everything they do, i don’t know if you’ve gotten to the end of s5 yet but i cry. so like?? obviously, because i am who i am, polyamory is the answer! basically the rundown is: andy and toby are a typical couple except that they fight a lot. cj is kinda in the middle. if gay marriage had been legal / socially acceptable in the 80s (because god knows this ot3 has been thinking about optics since they graduated college), cj and andy would’ve gotten married and toby would’ve come and gone depending on who he’d pissed off recently, and everything would’ve been perfect. instead, andy and toby got married and it didn’t work because they really just couldn’t function as a unit, especially since their getting married meant that cj isolated herself a bit more. definitely cj and toby have a couple of SCREAMING arguments about the whole relationship. idk.

but just like. imagine with me, if you will, cj and toby... not dating, while working in the white house, but being exes. friendly exes. friendly exes who are still in love with each other and know it. please imagine that and then think about “i love you desperately / i know” and “you wanna make out with me right now, don’t you? / well, when don’t i?” and “we had it good there for a while / yeah, we did” and then join me in the pit of sadness.

(sidenote i have a sense8 au for the west wing and the second story is just me being emotional about their cluster for 5k. i have another story vaguely planned that i’ll probably never write about the development of the ot3 and about their cluster and how it functions. but don’t read that story until you finish... the first half of s7? or thereabouts? actually probably you should finish the show before you read the sense8 au in general if you’re avoiding spoilers.)

(when i say “i’ll probably never write”, i mean “until the next time i get obsessed with the west wing”. which will probably be years from now. oh, well, we can all hope the muse actually does something efficient for once.)

so yeah. those are my ships. i know a lot of people shipped josh/sam, but i don’t really see it? sam always seemed Way Too Straight for that to work lol, although i DO like the idea of sam pining tragically for josh for years just like donna does. (can you tell i read such a winter’s day a few days ago? it’s amazing. i haven’t left a review yet because i have not been a human being recently, but go read it!! it’s awesome!!)

also, i love the idea of bartlet/abbey/leo, although i can’t really visualize it lol. but there’s some amazing fic for them out there. maybe one day my stupid brain will realize the angst potential and actually let me write something for them, hopefully within the sense8 au. (sam also has a cluster! and i would love to write about them! .....but my brain doesn’t do what i tell it to. ever.)

my favorite arc.... i don’t know. i really loved the early seasons, which were a little more episodic, but ALSO i actually really liked the tone after aaron sorkin left after s4? it takes some getting used to, but it’s WAY more emotional, and i am ALL HERE FOR THAT. i definitely have a least favoite arc, or at least a least-favorite way-that-they-handled-a-storyline (spoiler alert: i hated how they handled the end of bartlet’s presidency in the white house. like. SHE’S ALL ALONE IN THERE- anyways. trying not to give detailed spoilers!)

favorite episodes: hmm. i love the thanksgiving episodes. i loved any episode with the ainsley-and-sam dynamic. noel is a phenomenal episode. 26 could make anyone weep. the flashbacks are the best. the fucking- the fucking what’s next motif.

honestly, probably i’d have to say my favorite episode is either 4x20 (evidence of things not seen, for “stupidly noble cluster” reasons and cj/toby reasons and bartlet & charlie reasons. also i feel like there’s some good josh/donna there too but i can’t remember exactly?) or 7x21 (institutional memory, because i’m pretty sure the writers reached into my id and pulled out EXACTLY what i needed from them to be okay with the show ending. jesus CHRIST i have never felt so satisfied after an episode. literally everything i ever could have wanted happened in that episode. i’m STILL reeling. it’s a perfect episode.)

my favorite characters are... literally everyone? i know that’s cheating but i love them all SO MUCH (except mandy and amy, of course). josh is my favorite, always and forever, but i love cj more than words and sometimes i can’t breathe for love of toby. leo and bartlet and charlie and sam and donna- here i was thinking i was gonna resent will forever but i LOVE will. ainsley is an amazing woman. abbey is such a good character, god, talk about a flawed woman who’s allowed to be a good person.

AND THEN THEY MADE ME ROOT FOR A REPUBLICAN. again, i doubt you’ve gotten to s7, but the republican nominee in the last election... jesus christ. i love that man so much. arguably, i’m very biased, but also how D A R E they expect me to root against him. how DARE.

(i swear this will make more sense once you meet him. i just love the actor a lot, okay?)

anyways. this got ridiculously long. i would LOVE to talk about the west wing with you, feel free to reblog this with your own thoughts or tag me in your own post or message me or something. i would love to hear your reactions!! it’s such a good show, and such a smart show, and every character is so mcfreaking good at what they do and i adore it. enjoy the ride because there’s nothing as perfect and as quality as the west wing. if you’ll please excuse me, i’m going to go cry about 7x21 again.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Maybe I Am? - Chpt.3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Summary: The guys meet up for a casual Sunday farmers market trip but when they get back to Bucky’s apartment things heat up fast. Master list HERE.

Content Warning: basic second base smuttiness; swapping hand jobs and some frottage.

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I told ya'll there was gonna a lot of smut in this one and I'm starting to deliver as of this chapter :) So please, enjoy some lovely smuttiness on this fine Wednesday evening lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Three

“I told you so.” Natasha cheered over their plate of danishes the next morning. 

Bucky’s smile was sphinx-like as he nibbled on his pastry, “You did. I’m still not 100% sure he’s not going to just bolt at some point but I think that’s a risk I’m going to have to take.” 

“It sounds like a risk worth taking if one kiss has you smiling like that twelve hours later.”

“Ugh, Nat! And for the record, it was more than just one.” Bucky chuckled as Natasha shoved at him playfully.

Across town Steve was helping Sam tidy up in between classes and trying to avoid the grilling he knew Sam wanted to give. They had recapped the last class and personal training sessions and planned out the room for the next group coming in. They went over all the adjustments needed to the next week’s schedule since they were still covering for Thor who was out on paternity leave for the next four weeks now that his wife Jane had the baby. By the time they were setting the last of the kettle bells on the rack they had run out of gym related topics. Sam gave him another side eyed glance and Steve sighed, knowing what was coming.

“So are you still talking to Bucky?” Sam finally asked.

Steve had been reluctant to tell Sam about anything other than their first meeting. He hadn’t even told Sam why he’d bought the new outfit for earlier that week. It was still so new and he was unsure himself of where things were going, or where he even wanted them to go. He figured if in the end he realized he was bi or gay or whatever, then he could tell his friends. But until he was sure there was no point in announcing anything. “I am.” Steve admitted reluctantly.

“And how’s that going?” Sam seemed genuinely interested but Steve still clammed up.

“Good, he’s a good friend. We’ve been swapping memes all week.” 

“Nice. See, it all worked out and now you have someone else to send those stupid GIFs from The Office to.” 

“Hey, don’t knock one of the best TV shows of all time.” Steve glared pointedly.

“Whatever floats your boat, man.” Sam moved on, heading over to the desk to check the roster one last time before he started pulling out mats for their next class. A small twinge of guilt bit in Steve’s stomach, knowing he had let Sam make a wrong conclusion and hadn’t corrected him. But really, what was the point if he still wasn’t sure of everything himself? 

xxXxx

Bucky woke early on the Sunday after their date, restless in a way he hadn’t been in a while. He wanted to see Steve again but it had only been a day. Bucky busied himself with too much coffee and a book while he did laundry in his building's basement, trying to distract himself for a while. By 10am all of his standard keep busy chores were done and he was staring at his phone, trying to make Steve text him by sheer force of will. Giving up he started swiping through Instagram, catching up on his friend’s weekend adventures. Pepper had posted a cute picture of a bouquet she bought at the local farmers market and Bucky realized he had found the perfect reason to text Steve. It was innocent enough and casual so if Steve was busy or declined it wasn’t earth shattering. Plan in place, Bucky fired off a quick text.

Bucky Barnes [10:17:44AM]: hey u. im heading 2 the farmers market in sunset park. gonna stop 4 more of that wine. wanna come?

Steeeeve [10:19:23AM]: Hey! That sounds fun. What time?

Bucky Barnes [10:19:52AM]: headed over now if ur free

Steeeeve [10:20:08AM]: Okay. I just need to throw on some shoes and I’ll head out. I can be there in like 15min. 

Bucky Barnes [10:20:33AM]: k see u then

Bucky scrambled to fix his hair and pick a shirt from the pile he’d just brought up. He hadn’t expected Steve to be willing to meet up so quickly and he was still wearing his laundry day sweatpants. He was closer to the market than Steve but he also needed more time to get ready so he ended up getting a “I’m here” text from Steve on his way. 

Steve was waiting by a jewelry stand when Bucky caught up with him. He had been wandering around for a few minutes and the display of beaded bracelets caught his eye. They reminded him of the ones Bucky had worn when they first met and he wondered which ones Bucky would like. 

“Hey!” Bucky greeted him with a small wave as he approached.

“Hey.” Steve echoed happily. He almost reached out for a hug but something held him back and after a second ticked by he realized he should have just done it but the moment had passed. 

“What are you looking at?” Bucky asked, a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten their standard greeting hug and wanting to move on. 

“Oh, these things caught my eye while I was browsing.” 

“They’re nice. I love the way the translucent ones almost glow.” Bucky picked up one of the vivid pink ones, letting the sunlight hit it from different angles. 

“Let me buy it for you.” Steve offered before his brain caught up with his mouth. 

Bucky looked skeptically at him, “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to, please?” 

“Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky said softly, handing the bracelet over. 

Steve blushed at the nickname, ducking his head and walking over to pay the sales girl for the bracelet. Once purchased, he returned it to Bucky who slid it on his wrist next to the two others he was currently wearing.

“Perfect.” Steve praised. 

Bucky was looking appreciatively at his newest addition while Steve was looking appreciatively at Bucky. God, he was gorgeous. Bucky was dressed casually in light washed jeans and a dark grey shirt with no one should live in a closet written in fancy script with a wand below it, all in rainbow colors. Leave it to Bucky. “I like your shirt. Harry Potter reference, right?” Steve guessed.

“Yep. I found it at Pride last year and I’m completely in love with it.” 

“It’s very you.” 

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Bucky preened for a moment. 

Steve chuckled, “Come on, let’s go get some coffee. Altitude Coffee has a little pop up shop back that way.” 

Steve and Bucky trailed their way through the bustling farmers market, picking up things here and there. Some they actually needed for groceries, but others were just fun impulse buys. They each had overly full canvas totes by the time they were done, and hauled their finds along with them to the wine shop. They each bought a full box from the shop, having stocked up on a half case of their favorites, which only further slowed Bucky down. While Steve had the muscles and endurance to haul a giant tote and six bottles of wine around the city, Bucky did not. 

“Uh, Steve.” Bucky panted out, finally giving up. 

Steve looked over and realized Bucky had fallen a few steps behind while he was talking about a winery he had visited while in Canada a few years ago. 

“I think I need to tap out.” Bucky admitted while shifting his bag as much as he could to get comfortable. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Steve shifted his tote higher on his shoulder, wondering if he could sling Bucky’s on next to his. “Here, let me take your bag.” he extended a hand towards Bucky’s bag.

Bucky was conflicted, he wanted to try and at least get his stuff home but Steve probably could carry both without breaking a sweat. Damned muscled god of a man. “How about this? Since I’m the one wimping out, let me call us an Uber. I can probably get us one less than five minutes.” 

Steve frowned at the idea of an expensive ride all the back to Park Slope. “You don’t have to do that. I can carry our stuff.” 

“If I call us an Uber we could go back to my place and try that baguette and jam I bought.”

“Ooh, that’s a good bribe. I have that cheese I got too.” Steve looked at Bucky for a long moment. An afternoon of good food and even better company was too tempting to pass up. “You sure you don’t mind me coming over?” 

“Not at all. It’s a tiny little crap shack of a place, but it’s my tiny little crap shack.” 

Bucky was already pulling up the app and ordering them a car when Steve finally said, “Okay, let’s go.” 

The Uber ride back to Bucky’s place was barely more than ten minutes and they sat cramped in the back of a Prius with their wine boxes in the trunk and their totes in their laps. Bucky was trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness and shot Steve amused glances every so often, making the blonde have to tamp down his own laughter. By the time they got to Bucky’s apartment Steve practically leapt out of the tiny blue car, grateful to stretch back to his full height again. He insisted on carrying both of their totes and his box of wine bottles up to Bucky’s apartment, leaving Bucky his own wine to carry. Thankfully the building had an elevator and Steve seemed barely phased under the weight of all their stuff. Bucky tried to ignore the filthy thoughts racing through his head of what else Steve was strong enough to do. Like pick him up and fuck him against a wall. Or something. God, Bucky hoped Steve figured things out soon because he was barely through their second date and wanted to climb the man like a tree. 

“Home sweet home.” Bucky announced as he swung the door open to his apartment. He flicked on the recessed lighting in the living room and showed Steve to the kitchen where he could put their bags down. It was a cute little one bedroom apartment with a decent sized living room and dine-in kitchen. 

“It’s nice.” Steve said looking around as he placed their bags on the faux granite countertop. 

“It’s tiny but it works.” Bucky shrugged. 

Steve noticed the would be dining room area of the kitchen was set up with a desk and three wide computer monitors instead of a table. “That’s quite a set up over there.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Bucky looked embarrassed for a moment, “It’s a little ridiculous, but when you work from home it’s kinda nice to have a sweet setup. When I signed on to work for Stark Securities they gave me a signing bonus so I splurged and bought better equipment and that fancy office chair. It was completely worth it too.” 

“Good for you, you deserve it.” 

Bucky blushed lightly at the sincerity of Steve’s tone. He nervously spun the bracelet Steve had bought him around his wrist a few times, hoping he wasn’t setting himself for heartache. “So, lunch?” Bucky offered, the momentary tension dissipating. 

“Absolutely. Let’s break out that bread you got.” Steve started rifling through his bag for the soft cheese and candied pecans he’d bought while Bucky pulled out the heavy loaf of artisan bread, the little pot of homemade plum jam, and a bottle of Chloe Prosecco he’d bought at the wine shop. The bottle had been adorable with its fancy little bow and the sales girl had said it was a popular choice.

They laid out their feast on a large cutting board, teasing each other about how posh the whole thing was. It was a simple but seemingly elegant lunch spread and Bucky liked that their official second date had a bit of a classy feel to it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a table or anything for us to eat at.” Bucky waved his hand at his little office space. “I normally just eat on the sofa like a heathen.” 

“Honestly so do I.” Steve admitted with a chuckle.

“We can be heathens together then.” Bucky picked up their wine glasses while Steve carried the large tray out to the coffee table where they set up their feast. Flicking through his streaming channels he settled on Disney, knowing everyone loved those movies. “Have you seen the new Beauty and the Beast?”

Steve shook his head, “No, I heard it was good though.” 

“Good?” Bucky feigned offense, “Stephen Gilligan Rogers.” 

“Not my middle name.” Steve chuckled but Bucky was undeterred.

“BATB is not good. It is iconic. The elaborate costumes, the backdrops, the music, oh my god Steve, the music. We’re watching it. End of subject.” Bucky started up the movie, not even slightly apologetic for his dramatics. One had not lived until they saw Emma Watson as Belle. 

Two hours later Bucky was curled up against Steve, watching with misty eyes as the palace furniture turned back into real people as the curse lifted. Steve was completely engrossed in the movie, barely registering that he had been stroking Bucky’s hair for the better part of an hour. 

“Now do you see?” Bucky demanded as the credits rolled a few minutes later. 

“You were right. That was amazing.” Steve conceded. 

“It was always my favorite Disney movie as a kid but seeing it redone in such a perfect way really gets to me. I’ve threatened to dress up as Belle for the past three Halloweens now.” 

Steve grinned at the idea, “I think you’d make a beautiful Belle.” 

And just like that the air shifted. Bucky was suddenly very aware of how close they were curled up together and the way Steve was looking at him like he’d hung the moon. He didn’t want to rush Steve, he was willing to wait as Steve figured himself out, but if he kept looking at Bucky like that, his timeline needed to hurry up. “You’d make a very handsome beast.” he finally said, going for levity but falling short. 

Steve blushed so prettily, his eyes locked on Bucky’s lips, the bottom of which he was chewing on again. Steve knew now it was a nervous tell and it gave him a little thrill knowing he wasn’t the only nervous one. “I think I’d like to kiss you again.” he admitted quietly. 

“You don’t have to ask, honey.” Bucky purred, leaning in to press a tender kiss against Steve’s lips.

Steve’s body was shaking with nervous energy as Bucky shifted up onto his knees so he could kiss Steve easier. Bucky tasted like wine and plums and something very uniquely him. It made Steve’s head spin as he chased Bucky’s tongue with his own. The fears and worries over what he was doing died away in that moment, his whole being consumed by his desire for the sweet man who was practically in his lap. Steve still wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he knew he wanted more. 

Bucky was so thankful for a repeat of the night on Steve’s couch. Kissing Steve was electric and Bucky couldn’t get enough. The hard planes of his body pressed firmly up against the softer ones of Bucky’s, which only made Bucky more desperate for the close contact. Despite having a thicker build, Bucky felt small next to Steve and he loved it. Feeling brave, and praying desperately that Steve wouldn’t bolt, he swung a leg over Steve’s lap and sat himself atop Steve’s thighs. “Is this okay?” he asked once he was settled. 

“Yeah.” Steve shuddered, “Yeah, it’s fine.” Steve let his hands come to rest on Bucky’s thick thighs on either side of his smaller ones. While Steve’s thighs were hard with well earned muscle, Bucky’s had natural musculature and a softness to them that had Steve wanting to sink his fingers into their plush expanse. Bucky had gone back to kissing him while his mind wandered and Steve decided to give Bucky’s thighs an exploratory squeeze. For science really, just to see if he would feel anything. The kissing so far had been fantastic but Steve worried they’d eventually hit a point where everything went to hell and he realized he was most definitely straight. And then he’d lose Bucky forever. 

Bucky made a light huffing sound when Steve sunk his fingers into the soft meat of his thighs. He was thankful Steve was getting a little braver and decided to run his hands up and down the length of Steve’s ridiculously muscled chest and stomach in a tentative exploration of his own. 

A choked noise made its way out of Steve’s throat as Bucky touched him with feather light hands. He wanted to rip his shirt off and give him all the access he wanted. But he was taking things slow, Steve reminded himself. Unfortunately, not all parts of Steve got that memo. 

Bucky had shifted a bit trying to sprinkle kisses along the sharp edge of Steve’s jaw when he accidentally brushed against an unexpected guest. “Oh, shit, sorry.” he blurted out, moving back an inch so he wasn’t pressed against the, frankly enormous, erection in Steve’s pants. 

Steve blushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his throat. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.” 

Bucky glanced down at the tenting of Steve’s pants. Damn, he wanted to get his hands on Steve like yesterday. “I could, uh,” he cleared his throat roughly, “help you. With that.” Steve looked at him with wide bright blue eyes, so open and unsure, that Bucky started backpedaling all in a rush, “Or not, we can stop. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” 

Steve just grinned and leaned in to kiss Bucky again, his motions almost questioning. “I think I’d be okay going a little further this time.” he said quietly against Bucky’s mouth. 

Bucky squeaked involuntarily at Steve’s words. He was now dealing with his own growing problem at the idea of getting to fool around a little with Steve. “If you’re sure. We can stop at any time.” he promised. It would probably kill him, but if Steve said stop at any point he would be off him in a second. 

“I trust you, Buck.” Steve told him, brushing a strand of hair back behind Bucky’s ear. 

Bucky wanted to melt at the trust Steve had in him. He was too good to be true and Bucky just had to hope it would all work out. Gay or straight or somewhere in between, Steve Rogers was an absolute dream partner. Bucky shifted himself forward a little so the hard length in his pants could rub against the one in Steve’s while they kissed a little more. Bucky let his hips rock a little as they moved, giving them both a little bit of tortuous friction. 

Steve was panting like he’d run a marathon, and he knew this from personal experience when he and Sam had run the New York City Marathon a few years back as publicity for their gym. He’d never thought making out on a sofa would have quite the same effect but life had been full of surprises for him lately. The friction against his dick felt amazing and there was a naughty little zing of arousal knowing it was from Bucky’s erection rubbing against his. He would never have expected to enjoy that so much but there he was, fighting for self control like a horny teenager. He wanted to get Bucky off too and not just selfishly sit back and let Bucky take care of him. Steve was well acquainted with getting himself off and really how different could it be doing it to someone else? He was feeling bold and brash, knowing a hand was just a hand and really he had to start somewhere. “I think I’m ready for more.” he spoke up in between heated kisses. 

Bucky paused, jaw hanging open in shock. “Like, more more?” 

Steve nodded rapidly. “Like second base more?” He held his breath, waiting for Bucky to process what he’d just asked for. 

“God,” Bucky heaved out a breath, “You’re gonna be the death of me. Yes, second base, yes. Get those pants off, Rogers.” He stripped his own shirt off eagerly while Steve just sat there, amused.

“I kinda have this gorgeous guy on my lap at the moment.” he teased.

“Sorry!” Bucky yelped, hopping up so Steve could pull his pants down and off, quickly followed by his tee shirt. He sat in just his boxer briefs on Bucky’s sofa, looking like every Calvin Klien ad fantasy Bucky’d ever had come to life. “Jesus.” he whispered harshly. Bucky couldn’t get his own pants off fast enough, leaving him in his own silky boxers to resume his perch on Steve’s lap. 

Unconfined by pants Bucky got a better feel of Steve’s cock and he was thanking every saint he could think of for what was about to happen. He shifted himself closer to Steve, his thighs spreading wider, and he reached down to give Steve’s cock a tentative squeeze over top the soft cotton of his underwear. 

“Ohh.” Steve gasped out, his body trembling once again. His eyes were glued on Bucky, not wanting to miss a moment. He was so handsome sitting on Steve’s lap. His long hair shining in the afternoon sun that flooded in the glass balcony doors, his lightly tanned skin decorated with a series of finely detailed tattoos. While his muscles weren’t hard and cut like Steve’s, Steve loved the slight softness of the other man’s body, giving him something to sink his fingers into along his sides. It felt nice, and right, and Steve realized in that moment he was more invested in what was about to happen than he had been for most the sexual encounters he’d had with Peggy. It was startling but Steve pushed it down to deal with another day. In the moment, all that mattered was Bucky. 

“Can I?” Bucky asked, trailing his fingers along the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs. 

“Yeah. Can I?” Steve echoed, tugging at the silky material at Bucky’s hip. 

“If you’re sure.” Bucky prayed silently that having an actual cock in his hand wouldn’t send Steve running for the hills. 

But it didn’t. Steve pulled his underwear off when Bucky hopped up to do the same and he was all nervous excitement when Bucky resumed his perch. He hadn’t thought of what to expect but Steve was blatantly staring at the thick length of Bucky’s dick. It was shorter than his own, but Steve had already known he was considered a bit above average, and it was girthy in a way that made Steve wonder if he topped or bottomed. Because, Steve thought with amusement, these were things he had to consider now. But not right away. They would take things slow and he would see if this was even something he wanted to try. Steve reached out a hand to test the weight of Bucky’s dick in his palm. He slid his hand up and down for two quick strokes, testing how doing that made him feel and was pleasantly surprised that it was a pretty familiar act. The way Bucky hissed out a sharp breath and craned his neck back, eyes shut tight, made Steve’s own dick jump for attention. Oh, this was kind of fun. Steve moved his hand for another few stokes, enjoying the way Bucky’s body reacted so blatantly to the pleasure. It was easy to get him worked up like that and Steve was genuinely enjoying himself watching Bucky become a desperate, needy thing in his lap, thrusting a little into Steve’s fist. 

“God. Fuck. Stevie, slow down.” Bucky pleaded. “I wanna take care of you too, honey. Can I? Please?” 

“Okay.” Steve acquiesced, bracing himself for the pressure of Bucky’s hand around his dick. 

Bucky eagerly wrapped his fist around the hard length of Steve’s cock, sliding it up and down the impressive length until Steve gasped. He leaned forward to kiss Steve from his jaw down his neck to his collarbones while he groped him fervently between their two overheated bodies. For as simple as it was, it was absolutely exquisite. “How you doing, Stevie?” Bucky prompted, wanting to check in to ensure Steve was still on board. He rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, waiting patiently for him to respond.

“So good.” Steve managed to moan out. “This is amazing.” 

“Wanna try something even more amazing?” Bucky grinned devilishly. “Just hand stuff, promise.” he added for reassurance.

“What can be better than this?” Steve questioned but motioned for Bucky to go ahead with whatever he had in mind.  

Carefully, Bucky shifted forward one last time, pressing as close to Steve as humanly possible making his over stretched thighs burn in the process. He slipped his hand from Steve’s cock and lined it up with his own, wrapping his fist around them both the best he could. He gave them a quick stroke, reveling in the sensation and waiting to see if Steve would enjoy it too. 

Steve’s whimper was a good sign. “Please.” he begged, “Please, please do that.” 

Bucky picked up the motion again, rhythmically pumping them in his fist. Steve was making little broken ahh sounds, unable to keep up with the pleasure thrumming through his body, and it spurred Bucky on to bring them both racing towards their release. 

Steve could feel the pressure building, his body was on fire and he could barely bite out a warning to Bucky as he felt his orgasm ripping through him. A half formed “I’m g-” was all the warning Bucky got before Steve was spilling all over his hand and cock. Watching Steve come undone, the pure bliss on his face, had Bucky following him over the edge of his own climax seconds later. His body shook hard as he spilled over his hand and across the rippled muscles of Steve’s abs. 

Steve’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes shining, and Bucky mused he probably looked about the same. Steve was so stunning sitting there with a wide, lazy blissed out smile on his face. Bucky giggled a little realizing how incredibly lucky he was. Steve really was just perfection. 

“What?” Steve asked, joining in Bucky’s infectious laughter. 

“You’re perfect.” Bucky admitted, speaking what was on his mind. 

“And you’re beautiful.” Steve leaned up to push Bucky’s hair back where it had fallen forward in his face. He pressed two chaste kisses against his lips before pulling back, feeling a little extra affectionate in his post-orgasmic haze. 

Bucky made a muffled mmph sound, leaning into Steve, just wanting to be close for a moment. “We made quite a mess.” he said finally, the squidgy feeling of their come between their stomachs not exactly a pleasant one. 

“We should clean up.” Steve agreed. 

“Come on, I have some wet wipes in my room.” Bucky lifted himself up off of Steve’s lap, suddenly cold without their skin to skin contact.

Steve noticed his shiver and as soon as he was standing, he pulled Bucky close against him in a warm embrace. 

Bucky basked in the warmth, his brain effectively turning to mush again at how sweet Steve was. “You spoil me.” he whispered against Steve’s firm pecs.

Steve dropped a kiss on top of Bucky’s head, “You deserve to be spoiled.” 

It took every bit of willpower in Bucky to pull back and lead Steve down the hall to clean up. He could have stayed wrapped in Steve’s arms forever, sticky cooling mess on his stomach be damned. They exchanged quick, adorably awkward glances at each other as they cleaned up. Both wanting to get a more detailed look now the heat of the moment had passed. Steve tossed his wipes in the wastebasket by Bucky’s dresser and then pulled Bucky close by his hips, “You really are so beautiful, Buck.” he told him softly.

Bucky had been careful to wall up his heart when he decided to give Steve a chance. He didn’t want to risk another heartbreak less than a year after what he’d been through with Brock. But Steve’s sweet words and affectionate touches had the walls crumbling a little despite Bucky’s best defenses. “Careful.” he teased with a pang of truth to his words, “You’re gonna ruin me for all other men, you keep this up.” 

Steve chuckled and kissed the top of Bucky’s head yet again. There were so many things he wanted to say in that moment. Raw, honest things that ached in his chest. But Steve kept them inside, not willing to let down his guard so completely just yet. He still didn’t really know what he was doing but damned if he wasn’t loving every second of it so far. 

“Come on you, let’s get dressed.” Bucky said finally, tugging Steve’s hand into his and leading him back down the hall.

Steve left shortly after they’d redressed and cleaned up the mess from their lunch. It was a long, drawn out goodbye in the doorway, neither one of them really wanting to part despite knowing they both had to get on with their usual Sunday routines. Steve promised to text Bucky once he’d made it home, insisting he would have no trouble carrying his tote and box on the subway. And then he was off down the hall, looking back just once before he got on the elevator and wishing he could have stayed. Bucky walked over to his glass balcony door, watching the street below as Steve crossed it heading toward the nearest subway station. He was trying not to get too attached but after the day they’d spent together, Bucky knew it was a losing battle.

[authenticaussie]

Hmm... 18 (soul eater au), 52 (roommate), 42 (marvel), 98 (leverage), and or 14 (lantern lights)

babe……….you’re my Favourite™

also, under a readmore because this got LONG as SHIT

8. Soul Eater au

the soul eater au is really scattered because my wifi sucked on that particular day and I was posting it in the mas chat (sunshinepunks) BUT the basis is weapons ace & sabo and meister Marco. It’s a lot of “dumbasses refuse to accept New Friends (because TraumaTM)” and Ace/Sabo being dicks to Marco because he refuses to give up on them. (ahhh my favourite dynamic //swoons)

Part of the plot - my favourite part of the plot - is that Sabo spends a lot of time spying on Marco to try and catch him out as Secretly A Dick and Manipulating Them, and ends up finding out that Marco really really cares about him and Ace? And the way to Sabo’s heart is thrrrroooough his besssstieeeee lmao. So Sabo ends up crushin’ hard first, but then SPYING BACKFIRES and paranoia kicks his butt and he Feels Bad because he was ONLY MEANT TO TRUST ACE and Marco HURT HIS FEELINGS (sabo you moron it’s your own fault). Anyway Ace and Marco pair up to try and make Sabo feel better and it drives Sabo even Nuttier until there is battle couple stuff and a mid-fight Feelings Fight and then a confession and then they become the DMCA power couple. Ta-da!

Ace was a pipe and Sabo was a knife! Or…..you know, something in that realm pft. Basically hitty-stick and stabby-stabby, because you could make a) an argument for their personalities Being Like That (ace is blunt and strong and easy to just hit with but if you’re clever about it he’s awesome, and has the reach to be a longer weapon, sabo is more…well a knife can be used for a lot but also it’s very….vicious. There is very little you can do to Incapacitate with a knife that is not Wow Stabbed. Which I feel is very Sabo, he’s kinda…harsh??? in his way of handling battle, I think.) and b) because in canon, Sabo’s weapon is a pipe and Ace has that knife, and I thought it’d be cool to match that.

42. New Roommate Wanted

an OC-based commission!! James moves in with a shape-shifting thief and her GF and accidentally Falls In Love snickers

It is………..I wrote it a while ago so you can definitely see the self-projection of “I want cute rich gfs to love and adore me so I don’t have to stress about a job”

52. 5+1 Marvel AU

in the actual word document the title is “If you’re broken I will mend you” (Or 5 Times Sabo was There for his Team (and one time histeam was there for him). Sabo is Coulson and Marco is Hawkeye and Ace is a Black Widow (codename: Redback). It fluctuates between sorta implying MAS (but with a definite focus on Marco/Ace) and Coby/Sabo mainly because I made Coby Captain America (YOU CAN’T!!! ARGUE!!! WITH ME!!! HE IS!!!! PERFECT!!! AS CAP!!!) and I love fics that have the lowkey “Coulson has a fanboy crush on Cap.” lol. 

(also coby/sabo is. fun? crackship but So Fun.) 

Here’s the shortest one haha

It takes about five minutes after the comms. go silent forSabo to know that something is wrong, and two minutes afterwards to gear up.

It takes him approximately four seconds to tear through the people trying to keep him from helping Ace and Marco.

(It takes two weeks for them to heal, no matter how fastSabo was, and a month for Sabo to get off desk duty, but Ace and Marco refuseto do missions when he’s not their handler. They refuse to do anything thatinvolves leaving his side until after he assures them he’s fine, and that hewasn’t just a S.H.I.E.L.D agent because he had a pretty face - though that hadprompted an argument about Sabo’s ‘pretty face’ that he’d had to steadfastlyignore.)

88. LEVERAGE AU MOTHERFUCKER

THIEVES! CON ARTISTS! So this one is actually three different aus in one file - there’s a “MAS but as Leverage” and it starts out as “Ace and Sabo who fill in Every Job They Can (but their specialties are Ace = grifter/hacker and Sabo = hitter/thief and I have reasons, okay) and then they try and run a con on Marco but he’s like Um Excuse Me? And then he gets dragged into their Bullshit snickers. Oh ALSO they ONE THOUSAND PERCENT do not realise they are Madly In Love With Him (but he does. And he’s trying to be patient. But also. Dying. Because wow it’s kinda awkward being in love with. two daredevil thieves)

The second one in the doc is the Leverage trio in the OP world, ‘cause duh, and Parker starts off like…trying to steal kids from being SMILE experiments? and hires Eliot and Hardison to help her. Um I think I wanted to give Hardison a DF?? But I had a whole list: there was altering people’s sight/perceptions, being able to edit vision/specifics of reality in lines of like, code?? (aka he could do Little Changes but they could affect Big Things, a butterfly effect sort of DF). A lot of them were trying to give him a way to…manipulate stuff in a world where tech wasn’t as big a thing.  

And the third one is ASL leverage! Marco still gets dragged into the disaster but it’s more found family stuff. 

14. Lantern Lights

Lantern Lights is technically posted [here] under “all the light we cannot hold” BUT I have MORE. I wanted to make it longer when I originally posted it - mainly because Lea asked for angst - but I ended up running out of time (I am………so bad at deadlines, jfc). Plus, with all the things I wanted to include it honestly would’ve turned into something RIDICULOUSLY long and I was already pushing 5k when gifts were a minimum of 1k.

This was the original start / end bracketing.

START:

HiAce.

Hispencil hesitated above the empty page, only a single lead smudge marring theotherwise blank paper, and Sabo sighed softly. Eraser nub ticking against thedesk, he bit his lower lip and tried to think of what else to write. He had somuch to say – about Marco, and the Whitebeards, and about the new friends he’dslowly been making, like Koala and Hack and even the standoffish, arrogant Law,but it’d been so long since he sat down to write Ace a letter that the wordsseemed to have vanished.

Hi Ace, heread, as though the greeting would organise what he wanted to say intoneat lines for him to write. He heaved another sigh, resting his chin in hispalm. Casting his eyes up to the window above his desk he watched as theburning dusk faded into twilight blue and the stars began to shine, silverglints of light that were mirrored by the compound’s lanterns flaring to life.The gleamed against the darkness and Sabo couldn’t help but be reminded ofAce’s fire. How it glowed beneath his skin, lighting him bright red in fury orembarrassment or glorious gold in his joy. Sometimes Sabo couldn’t help butwish – but hope – that Ace was still burning, somewhere out there. In the sky,with the stars-

Hecouldn’t help but selfishly hope that Ace had given part of his fire to Sabo’sheart, to burn within him.

Sabogrowled, burying his face in his hands to try and stop the subtle sting formingin his eyes. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that so many simple things couldremind him of Ace, that undeniable frustration at his uselessness still restedheavy in his every thought, that the feelings he wanted to put to paper wereimpossible to articulate.

Thesharp tip of his pencil cracked as he pressed it into the paper, and the threewords he wrote turned from his usual neat cursive into a jagged scrawl.

I miss you.

END:

-Marco thinks that ouranniversary is the battle, but I don’t like it there. Besides, having ouranniversary on your birthday? You’d expect double gifts, and we can’t havethat.

Sabo’slips quirked into a bitter smile, his eyes drawn up to the small gift stillwrapped on his desk, bow deflated from his constant touches but nonethelessstill stubbornly holding onto the silver wrapping. He’d never had a chance togive Ace his birthday gift, and was sure that Ace wouldn’t have expected it.Would he have even been given gifts, when he’d been kept on the candle wick? Orwould the gift have been an extra moment of freedom, so painfully perfect in its rarity?

Pullinghis hair away from his face, Sabo gently bit his lip and scanned what he’dalready written, trying to figure out what else to say. His fringe curled infront of his eyes when he took up his pen again, but he barely paid attentionto the soft brush of hair against his scar tissue. Two years of having them hadgotten him used to his limited vision and things in front of his face that hecouldn’t see. 

He’d never seen Ace’sflustered thoughts, nor known what each fleeting touch had meant until it had beenfar too late, and couldn’t help but wonder just how blind he’d been back then.

Did I tell you thatMarco finally stopped being chickenshit and used the word ‘boyfriend’? I feellike that counts more as our anniversary than the battle, especially consideringI wasn’t much better about speaking up about “feelings” after you left. Twomonths of not talking over the topic because one third of the topic up and-

It’s pretty stupid ofus, huh?

I mean, you werepretty fucking stupid when you-

Sabocrossed out the last few words with two strokes of thick black ink, his teethgrit in a way that made his head pound.

Regardless, everythingis going fine, now. I’m sure you’d be happy to know that Marco and I havegotten past awkwardly refusing to admit to holding hands and have nowprogressed to awkwardly kissing each other on the cheek (and then refusing toadmit to it, of course. Got to keep consistency). You’d think that as someoneso attention-starved I’d be better at this, but it always feels…not wrong, persay, but, like something is missing because you’re not here.

You’re a dick forthat, Ace.

Anyway, this will bemy last letter for a while. I’m sorry it’s short, but I’m already running late;Koala and I are set to sail with the afternoon tide, for Flevance, and Marco isgoing troll hunting. Whitebeard heard there was trouble with the gnomes in thefar north mountains, so he’s going to check them out and I want to say goodbyebefore we part ways.

As always;

With love, Sabo.

[unclejuho]

sf9 in london event + concert experience ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

this is my 5k essay on what happened 190512 // enjoy reading!!!

so i got to the venue at 11pm the night before bc i was so stressed by the other concerts (ppl at la started lining up at 6pm??) i really wanted to be near the front since im coming all way from the netherlands anyways i better go big or go home!!!! so like i waited there for an hour amongst other fans who were still waiting from a diff concert and when they left other fantasy arrived so we started queueing up. i rlly have to thank sf9 uk casue they were so nice to me and they kept letting me use their hotel next door to let me go to the bathroom and change ♥️

i ended up getting nr1 (or nr21 ig isbdhs) so!!!! we did it LMAO succesfully got a good spot even though my feet and butt were dead by the time anything even happened,, its so hard to wait for 16+ hours to go to a concert but its sf9 so who cares about health 🤡 we didnt get knifed and a lot of ppl came up to ask who the fuck we were waiting for hdbshsh it was so funny

so i started handing out my juho stuff ofc and ppl seemed to like it!!! so im glad haha eventually even i didnt have any anymore so i was happy ppl liked it!

skip to like 1pm which is when the members arrived at the venue, i was a lil late noticing cus i was waiting for those signed narcissus albums but i ran to the front anyways n saw youngbin chani tae leave the van (like what they posted in the travel preview) so that was!!!!! jdbdbsb they were so unbothered it was so cute so i went to get my albums and came back to line (i got all hwiyoung pcs oshshah) 

also there were so many other fans handing out fanmades it was so sweet the entire atmosphere was fantastic bc everyone was nice to eachother, rlly everyone i talked to was super sweet!!! also so many fansites with slogans or fans so i went broke once more but it was all worth it theyre so pretty...

at like 4.30 was the special event which lmao i rlly was so tired and i got sooo nervous i had my already signed fanfare from mwave bc if ure gonna sign any album it should be fanfare (looking at ALL the ppl that gave them narcissus) sooo us 20 were led upstairs to some sort of bar area and they had a long table w water bottles so we had to wait a lil while the staff checked our signed items if they were ok and then we had to form a line to wait (they were late) i met another dutchie so that was nice hdhshsh

finally the members walk out and im shaking bc baek ju is the first to enter the room!!! he was wearing that leopard sweater and i didnt even hate his mullet seeing it upclose...

jae was wearing that stupid unbottoned shirt skbssbsb and he came in giving ALL the fanservice like him and inseong were here for the entire thing osbdbsb the other members just sat down and sociaized with eachother like yb kept being adorable and pulling faces at the table it was everything and i couldnt see rowoon bc ppl were standing in front of him but i was!!!! shaking already bc whos idea was it to start off this event with fucking rowoon lmao is like immediate heart attack! ju was last which was oof...

so i had like ideas of what i wanted to talk abt w each members but lmao??? i didnt talk abt any of it to any member my mind was so shook...

first up was rowoon and he just hdhshsh???? the eye contact of this man and just seeing him upclose was so intense tf he rlly was.. so gorgeous n bc of his hair up his eyes looked even bigger n shimmered and the pics rlly dont do him justice... so the first thing i said was wow so handsome bc why not.. i was gagged indeed hdbdbsb he said like woooow our debut album and you already have it signed oabdbs i didnt explain the entire mwave thing bc wud he understand haha but he opened n he saw the pic of himself hes like what do u like better me now or me here??? me being myself im like fanfare bc ur hair down is so cute oahdhshs i rlly not a narcissus hag anyways but fanfare was best rowoon as always... so rowoon did his sign and i asked him to do sky castle impersonation he didnt understand so i just repeated sky castle he was like ah the voice thing im like yes cha minhyuk isbdbsh so he did the fucking thing and i was dying lmao great to have seen it in the flesh ofc...

after rowoon was taeyang and taeyang!!!! was so hyper and attentive like hdnsb whenever u see him in vids hes usually very casual but he was soooo sweet and he too was like ahhh fanfare he took a while to say but he said his heart was still in there hdhdhsh so i was 🤧🤧 i just asked tae if he was doing okay or if he wasnt feeling tired and he said he was doing great bc i was there im like dying hdhshsh so i said yah me too!!!! 

jae was after taeyang n jae was jdhshshs soooo into it i know korean fans say ppl change biases to jae after meeting him and i have to say i can see why!!! i didnt rlly know what to say to jae beforehand but he said oooo i really love london and im like haha i dont like it here im like im from the netherlands so he was shocked he said thank you for coming to travel here and he held my hand isbdbsbsb

next was inseong and... the eye contact level was sooo severe he rlly threw all into it hes like hi thank you for coming so much so i was wearing this shirt w a 🥩 on it and im like inseong do u like my shirt bc i know u love meat iahdhahsh so he was laughing n said yea wow this is my favorite shirt oshdhshs rlly had me going LOL he asked if it was my first time seeing them im like yea but im going to korea in the summer tho oshdhshs he said that was great n asked how long i was staying for,,, so im like im going a month so he asked why i was going so long im like im going for u!!! hdbshsb he gave me some hearts and i moved on ndhsbsab

so chani was next up and he looked so shy,,,, im sad bc i forgot to say everything i wanted to say to him at the beginning and i was just like chaniiiiiii and he laughed and signed my album before i went i quickly pushed in a URE MY FAVE DANCER n he highfived me hdhsbs

so youngbin was next and i... lmao... i was weak haha he just read my name hes like hiiiii gia im here being depressed saying HI YOUNGBIN I LOVE U SM thank u sm for everything u do for us and i shit u not my eyes like tearing up oshdbsbs yb asking me how im feeling im like YEA GREAT tears in my eyes oabdbs i rly couldnt speak otherwise id actually have them roll down my face so i just nodded and moved on iabsbs

hwiyoung im so sorry... i was still emo from yb and i even forgot to say happy birthday like pls hit me... hwi cheered for the fanfare album and im like yess hwi i love ur hair here i love the blonde;; hwi thanked me for coming 

next up was dawon and jdbsbs i came in saying hi fantasy president so he said yeeee fantasyyyyy and hes an unbothered legend oabbdhssbn he signed quickly and within a minute i was away again jdhdhs

so juho.. my god oshdhshwh hes so:((( pretty let me breathe liek... i came there im like juho i love u oahdhshsh hes just nodding his way going to sign my album and he drawing that heart stickman so im like i have a question can u draw— hes like this is my signature drawing LUCKILY i drew the jucasso next to my name so im like pointing at it being like lmao boy we dont want this heart flop bdhdhsh so he quickly drew it and i said i hope u feel better soon and i was off again,,, rlly dawon and juhos signing went so quick...

so we moved on to the pictures and they were grabbing the chairs and ju was standing all way back at first but then no members went to sit on the chairs oahdhs so JUHO THE MAN WENT FOR THE SEAT NEXT TO THE MIDDLE HDHSHSH and hwi on the other side and jae behind so im blessed like juho... he rlly did it... hdhshsh i quickly go to grab one of my banners bc im like bitch i gotta fucking rep for it now otherwise i wudnt know a pose anyways oahdhshs so i quickly took off my glasses as well

so its my turn im going up and sitting down and like handing this banner to ju and hes like ???? oh???? he quickly reads it n was impressed hdbsb so there was one pic and tae was sitting next to ju and wanted to read what was on the banner so he turned to us but then we had to take another pic so he had to turn back quickly again oahdhshsh and then i had to go again but as i walked away ju was explaining to the members what was on my banner so i :(((( 

after everyones picture was taken they said goodbye and waved and inseong stayed behind a lil to joke abt drinking beer (i rlly hate him but also me?) and then they left and we got our merch bags n went back downstairs

so i quickly ran over to my bestie to tell her abt it before realizing we had to line up to go inside for the concert so i was like stressed running away i rlly almost lost my first spot LOL but we were let inside the venue i had like 50 bags but i ran to the front and BLESS IT there was like tiny space left at the left side which is were i wanted to be bc juwoon!!!!!! so i rly did get barrier thank god i could put down all my bags as well and the fantasy next to me were great as well!!!!

// i’ll add the concert later as im tired rn and this is already 5k osjbhdbhjas

[mad-madam-m]

So I'm just curious, how do you get yourself to write? And do you use prompts and if you do where do you get them? I meant to use NaNo to get me to write but it took 4 days into November for me to realize November started so I failed lol. I've been meaning to start this original thing and it's just not...working.

First of all, anon, you could start writing RIGHT NOW (yes, with 10 days left in the month) and you would not fail NaNo. You might not hit 50k (although I know people who have hit 50k in that amount of time, or less), but you won’t fail. NaNoWriMo isn’t about hitting 50,000 words so much as it is about putting a stake in the ground and saying, “Here. Today. I will start writing the project I’ve always wanted to.” And doing it. Doesn’t matter what that project is—original novel, short stories, fic, poetry, revising something, a series of blog posts—NaNo is about just. Fucking. Doing it. And you still have time to Do It.

To answer your questions:

Do you use prompts and if you do, where do you get them?

For original stories, particularly novels, I usually don’t. For fic, particularly short fic I’m writing for events, I do. Tumblr has a wealth of writing prompts that range from “here’s a situation” to “here’s a line of dialogue GO,” and I tend to reblog them under the tags “fic prompts” or “writing prompts.” Honestly, most of them would work for either original fic or fanfic, so if you are a writer who likes to work from prompts, go forth and enjoy!

How do you get yourself to write?

That’s kind of a big question, and uh, the answer to it got long. Very long. (I said once that if you give me half a chance, I’ll talk about writing all the live-long day, and this answer is no exception.)

Different things motivate me for different projects, and as with all writing-related advice, YMMV, but here’s a few things that really help for getting myself to write:

1) Develop your story.

The current original story I’m working on, for example, I have not really had to struggle to get myself to write at all because 1) I’m stupid excited about it and 2) I have developed the hell out of it.

I’ve talked before about outlining my stuff here, so I won’t go too much into it again; suffice it to say that I have done about the same amount of development on my current original story that I had on ADA by the time I started writing. I started around the very end of September developing my characters and spent a good chunk of October working on setting, worldbuilding, plot, and finally my notecards.

Shockingly, having some idea of what’s happening and where I’m going is making this story easier to write.

Right? Like WHO’D HAVE THOUGHT.

Because of that, I’ve been excited about writing my story, so getting myself to write on it has been (comparatively) a cakewalk.

That’s not to say any of the writing is good (oh God no) or that there aren’t parts that need fixing, or that I haven’t been stuck. But it’s been stuck like “how do I describe seeing a tree-covered mountain in the middle of fall from the POV of someone who has never seen something like this” rather than “I have no fucking clue what happens next uh…”

The stories I struggle the most with writing are the ones that I’ve worked the least on developing. The stories that have been the easiest to write have been the ones I’ve spent at least a month doing prep work on before I ever start drafting.

2) Love your story.

Being in love with a story makes it a lot easier to write, at least for me. Because here’s the thing, ideas are easy.

If you’re a creative person, you’re going to end up with a file of story ideas—maybe prompts you liked, dialogue that stuck with you, one of those “humans are space orcs” tumblr posts that’s just really clicking in your brain—that will be longer than you could conceivably write if you had a hundred lifetimes. That’s okay! That’s great. But it means a lot of them are never going to get past the idea stage.

For me, the stories that get finished—the ones that not only get started but actually make it through the first draft and then three rounds of editing and revisions—are the ideas that I’ve been percolating on for months, if not longer. They’ve been cooking in the back of my brain while I’ve been doing other things, sorting themselves out, and most importantly: they will not let me go.

Coming up with ideas is easy. Finding an idea that will last and sustain a story and my interest for at least a year, if not longer? That’s harder.

Y’all know how much I’ve been talking about Tiger & Bunny over the past year? We’re talking that level of obsession with a story that I want to write, whether it’s fic or original. Sometimes it takes months or years for all the puzzle pieces to come together. Sometimes the whole thing will congeal within a few weeks, or there will be one crucial piece of story that will just make EVERYTHING come together, I will literally shout “OH MY FUCKING GOD” and that’s it, I’m off to the races. (In this particular case, it wasn’t anything I’d done in the first two weeks of poking at steampunk-y ideas; it was the realization that I could put a circus on an airship. The whole story just went WHOOSH after that.)

BUT. But. Sometimes you don’t have that. These stories are great and I love them and they remind me why I love writing so much (and if you’re writing something that’s gonna be 90k+, like I have a tendency to do, you need to be in love with it, IMO), but sometimes you’re in situations where you just have to get it done. In those cases:

3) Resort to bribery.

I’ve been poking at the third part of Alpha & Emissary, oh, basically since I posted the second part. My problem is that my fandom focus has been, shall we say, split for the past year. *coughs delicately, shoves Tiger & Bunny fics under the bed*

But here’s the thing: I hate having a published WIP on AO3 (it’s why I don’t publish long!fics until they’re completely drafted and mostly edited). I hate—HATE—having an unfinished series on AO3.

So that’s the rub: I have an unfinished series that I want to finish because I hate that it’s not finished. I also have a new fandom that is wresting my attention and inspiration away from said series. What’s a girl to do?

A girl tells herself she can’t write any more Tiger & Bunny fic until she finishes this one WIP, that’s what she does.

And it’s motivated me to sit my ass down and work on that WIP, because goddammit, I have a “but there was only one bed” TaiBani fic that I would really like to have up by New Year’s.

Your bribery will be different. Maybe you get to watch 1 episode of your favorite show per every 1k you write, or you get to try a new knitting project when you finish this short story. Maybe you binge-watch an entire season of your favorite anime if you exceed your NaNo goal. Or you write 50 words and get a cookie. The point is, find what works for you to get it done.

4) Figure out a minimum daily goal and stick with it.

For me, this was 500 words a day. 500 words. That’s it. That’s one 30-minute word sprint for me. That’s something I can do without stressing myself out.

Because of this point and point 3, I wrote more than 7000 words on a story I’d been stuck on for the better part of a year before I had to stop to work on NaNo stuff. Another 7k, and I’ll probably have it finished.

Your minimum word count will almost certainly be different. Maybe it’s 300 words a day, maybe it’s 1000. Hell, maybe it’s 100 words. Again, find what works for you, what you can write regularly without stressing yourself out.

Another important thing: If I didn’t hit 500 words, I didn’t beat myself up about it. Maybe I wrote 350. Or 220. Or just 93. The point is, did I write? Yes? Then I did good. I got myself a sentence or a paragraph closer to finishing. And it all adds up.

(And hey, you don’t have to write every day. I do, or I try to, because that’s what works for me. If it stresses you out to do so, then find another way to make it work.)

5) Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines.

This one’s hard because I can rarely keep a deadline that’s not set by an external source. If you tell me on December 20 that you need a story by December 22? Then on December 22, you’ll have a story, edited and ready to post. But when it comes to something I set for myself, the chances of a deadline working are 50/50.

That being said, it is something that helps me keep on track and even if I don’t finish something by a self-imposed deadline, it does get me writing.

6) Sprint with friends!

NaNo is really great for this because all your writer friends are coming out of the woodwork going I need to hit 5k by the end of today, will you sprint with me? Sometimes it just helps to have that kind of accountability. You all get together (I’ve used Discord, Google Hangouts, IRC, and Twitter DMs for this), set a timer, and write for 15 minutes or 20 minutes or 30 minutes. Then, when the time’s up, you post your word count, everybody congratulates everybody else, and then you take a break before doing the next one.

Sprints are the reason I’ve been able to make some pretty significant headway on my word counts, and few things get me writing like knowing I’m going to have to tell everybody in my group what my word count is in 30 minutes or less. >.>

Like I said earlier, YMMV on all of these. What works for me may work for you, or it might not. But if you aren’t sure, it’s worth giving it a shot.

Happy writing!

[a-tired-bitch]

You, Me, and an RV

1 Part: Completed

MASTER LIST

Summary: After traveling with Nicole for two months in some raggedy RV, the constant rise of sexual tension between the two gets to a point where Negan can’t hold back anymore POV: Negan for the most part, but when the smut ensues it switches. Characters: Negan, Nicole (italics), Turner (italics x indent) Word Count: 5k Author’s Note: This started out as a roleplay post for Joe on some off-site forum I used to take partake in and recently was brought back into, but anyways, after looking over it, I decided to alter the story a bit and swap out Joe for Negan and wa-la. The Joe storyline was far hotter but I’ll use that for YSKB. Negan’s OOC since this is in the early months of the ZA and I wanted to switch up his personality. It’s been over a year since I created a Negan piece, so here you go. @Kate who will eventually read this: I not only hate you for making me get back into RPing and creating this, but I love you for doing that and for the content.  Warnings: I don’t get my content beta’d anymore. My oneshots are always so long, lol. Negan’s basically holding his dick while they talk, lol. I wouldn’t say this is necessarily PWP, but it is PWSP - porn with some plot. But yeah, the usual warnings apply.  Quote: “See, I told you that ‘stupid red scarf’ would look a lot better on you.

Two months…Two months since the rise of the living dead and the crumbling of a civilized society. Two months since the beginning of the battling of not only the lack of sleep, the immense hunger, and the shifting of one’s own saneness and conscience, but the battle of survival that raged between the living against the dead and the living against the living.

One month…One month since the crossing of paths between Negan and a firecracker of a woman named Nicole. One month since the beginning of their shared survival and travels through the state in a raggedy RV that was on its last lifeline.

Two weeks…Two weeks since Negan had acquired that black, leather jacket. Two weeks since the beginning of the rise of sexual tension between the two survivors.

One week…One week since it was Negan’s turn to sleep in the bedroom of the RV instead of the less-than-comfortable couch in the living room. One week since the beginning of the shift from the occasional spout of sexual tension that was usually playful in nature, to a full-blown waterfall of lingering stares and sexual propositions that were never acted on.

A few hours…A few hours since the couple stopped to scavenge a pile-up of cars.  A few hours since the beginning of a partnership with a man named Turner – a skilled mechanic who had offered to look over and repair any problems the RV might have in exchange for a ride and a place to sleep overnight.

One hour…One hour since they had stopped for the night. One hour since the beginning of nightfall. One hour since Turner had disappeared into the tree line to scavenge the woods.

“Our new friend,” a voice spoke, cutting through the long span of silence that enveloped the innards of the RV, “he’s been gone longer than expected – think he’s still alive out there?”

With his tongue sandwiched between his lower lip and the pearly whites of his upper teeth, Negan meticulously wrapped a roll of barbed wire around a bat he had stumbled upon one of their scavenging expeditions.

With the woman’s question going unanswered, Negan lifted his newly created weapon, examining it in the dim lights that brought light to the RV – thick and overlapping strands of steel wire wrapped around the head of the weapon while single loop strings clucked to the shaft.

Far too mesmerized with his creation, he had failed to notice that the blonde had taken a seat next to him on the couch.

“Aye,” the woman called, pulling her hand up to his ear and snapping a single time, “are you listening?” She questioned, her hand returning to her side as she took to her feet once more.

Being forced out of his trance, Negan shook his head a single time while carefully leaning the bat against the couch. “Well, Nicole,” he began, falling back into the pillows of the worn-out couch, “I hear you but I’m not listening,” his gaze settled on the woman who was now facing the kitchen countertop, “so the answer to your question is ‘yes’ and ‘no’.”

Scoffing, he shifted his attention to focus on the window that rested in the middle of the RV door. There, he searched the darkened world for any silhouette of the missing man.

“You know, I’ve probably said the about a million time since you and I crossed paths, but you’re the actual definition of an asshole.” Nicole jested, returning to the couch, but this time, holding two bowls filled with beans.

“Maybe, instead of repeating something I already know and have no ability to change since being an asshole is engrained in my DNA, you should figure out something new to tell me.” A somewhat playful smile took hold of his tired features as he turned to face her, eyeing the bowl for a quick second before accepting it.

With raised brows, Nicole stood there, her mouth agape just the slightest as she stared down at the man who was dressed in something the cast of Grease would wear. “You wanna hear something new?” Her questioned was both a rhetorical one and a way for her to think of a comeback. Scanning the man who was testing out the head of the beans by touching it with the tip of his tongue, Nicole took a seat on the opposite side of the small couch. “How about this: you look ridiculous in that leather jacket and that stupid red scarf.”

With raised brows that accompanied wide eyes, Negan lowered the bowl onto his lap after shifting in his seat so that his body was facing more in her direction. “I said tell me something new, not hurt my fucking feelings. But you know,” he leaned in just slightly, “this ‘stupid red scarf’ would look ten times fucking better on you than it would on me. Shit, maybe you can model it for me one of these days – walk up and down the length of the RV as it was your runway.” The two shared a moment of intense eye contact before Negan leaned away, a couple of throaty laughs coming from him.

This seemingly never-ending game of ‘let’s-continue-to-tell-jokes-to-build-this-obvious-sexual-tension-you-and-I-have-just-to-see-who-crosses-the-line-and-breaks-down-first’ seemed to resemble a game of hot potato – a game they both not only enjoyed playing but were masters at.

“Oh, come on, Negan, why don’t you just admit that you want to see me wear nothing more than that red scarf while you sit on this couch and rub one out.” Suddenly, Nicole’s legs began to stretch towards the man until her feet rested on his knee - this simple, yet semi-innocent action was something Negan was far too familiar with since it was something Nicole had done quite often. “Remember, though, looking for free, but touching is going to cost you.”

Gazing down, his eyes scanned the length of her legs before settling on her face. “Well, shit, in that case, looks like we're both going to miss out, especially you.”

“Prove it. Why don’t you show me what you’re working with and what I’ve been missing out on for these last two months. Go ahead. Do it.”

“Are you fucking with me? You really want me to do this right now?” Negan asked, cocking a brow.

Receiving a nod in response, his hands frantically worked at the button and zipper of his pants before the grey material was free from its constraints. Next, and without breaking eye contact, his right hand dug beneath the waistband of his boxers.

Suddenly, and just seconds before he was about to reveal what she had really been missing out on, an ankle came up and nudged him in the stomach, forcing him to stop.

“I was fucking with you.” Nicole laughed, her leg returning to rest on his knee. “Calm yourself, put that thing away, and let’s talk Turner.”

With his cock in hand, a clenched jaw, and cold and almost deadly stare, Negan just sat there, unamused with her so-called ‘joke’ and annoyed with her constant questioning of the missing man. He knew that there was no way he was going to allow this to slide, so, within the shallow depths of his mind, he began to concoct a plan.

“What the fuck about him?”

Tilting her head just the slightest, she spoke, “Mm, someone’s a bit agitated for no reason,” a smirk pulled at the corner of her lips before she continued, “what are we going to do if he doesn’t come back? Do we go looking for him or just pretend he was never around?”

“Look,” Negan sighed, “maybe we can go scan the tree line in the morning if he doesn’t come back, but for now, it’s not our problem. My only fucking problem is this thing right here,” he muttered, glancing down to his dick that was still hidden beneath his boxers and still within the grip out his hand.  “For now, we do nothing because he isn’t our responsibility. The only people were responsible for is each other.” The tone of his voice was stern and unwavering.

Considering that they had stumbled upon the man just hours before, Negan was in no position to go out and risk his neck for some stranger - after all, the motto of the new world was ‘survival of the fittest’.

Finally, after pulling his hand out from his boxers and buckling up his pants, he peered out through the window of the RV door. “Plus, I like it a lot better when it’s just you, me, and an RV.” He briefly looked over to her, a full-fledged smile taking hold of his tired features.

Nicole couldn’t help but look down at tent that hadn’t been fully pitched in his pants, but nevertheless, that didn’t stray her from looking. “Sleeping arrangements,” her eyes coming up to meet his as he turned his sights from the RV door and rested them on her, “what do you wanna do with them if he does decide to come back? I was thinking it would be a lot safer if you and I sleep in the back bedroom and he sleeps on the couch – you know, for safety reasons.”

“’Safety reasons’, huh?” Realizing that this was a perfect time to get back at her and thankful that it was just a few moments after her span of taking the lead in their little game, Negan began leaning in - close enough so she could feel his breath on her but far enough so that he was a foot or so of space between the two. “Why don’t you just admit to yourself that you want to see how good I am in bed.” His hand began to snake its way down from the armrest before resting on the lower portion of her calf. “Go ahead, admit to yourself that you wanna see how good and…persistent I am…,” fingertips that were once gliding along her leg while he spoke now firmly gripped onto her leg.

With a smile that truly revealed the depths of his dimples, Negan continued to linger there, watching as her eyes traveled down to rest on his lips and feeling how a wave of goosebumps spread out across her skin.

As much as she wanted to lean forward and meet this challenge head-on, Nicole was frozen in place. Despite his lingering from a foot away, the position of him leaning over half of her body made her mind reel in so many wrong directions. It was impossible to not imagine him pulling her to him, but as much as her mind played with these images, her body remained still. When his lips parted to whisper words to her, Nicole could feel the goosebumps crashing against every inch of her skin. She parted her lips to speak, but before she could his clutch on her calf tightened, pulling it so that her body was forced an inch closer to his as he continued to just linger there. As much as she tried to remain emotionless, her eyes widened a bit, blood pounded in her ears and raced up her neck and she had to take her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from closing the gap between them as his devilish smile imprinted itself into her mind.

“How good and persistent I am at hogging up all the covers and taking up most of the bed.” The once intense look in his eyes was now replaced by a playful one as he leaned back into the corner of the couch – the tips of his fingers gliding across her skin yet again before resting by his side.

Before either of them could continue with this banter, a knock forced Negan’s smile to fade and for his legs to instinctively bring him to his feet. Looking out the window, he saw Turner staring right back at him while waving his hand.

Rolling his eyes, Negan approached the door just a few steps away, “just as things were about to get good, he decides to show up,” he joked as he unlocked the door, pushing it open. 

Lingering on the last step of the motorhome and blocking the man from entering, Negan looked over the man who was currently soaked in water, shoeless, and holding a container in his hand.  “Go for a swim?” Negan questioned, looking away from the man and glancing around the area. “I’m not sure if you know this, but when the sun fucking disappears, and things begin to get dark and frogs to croak and shit, well, that means its nighttime. I say all this because you said you would be back before dark and would you fucking look at that, it’s not only dark but you're soaking fucking wet.” The only tone in his voice was a tone of neutrality – he wasn’t trying to lecture the man nor was he attempting to make a joke out of the situation. 

Listening to the man’s excuse which revolved around slipping on some rocks and landing in the water, Negan rolled his eyes, shooing the comments away. “Before you come in, change into something that isn’t wet.”

After an hour or so of gathering around and shooting the shit, the time to settle in for the night was rapidly approaching. Following the actions of Nicole who was heading into the back room, Negan slowly took to his feet as well.

Watching as she made her way to the backroom, Negan approached the man who was sitting in a chair just opposite of him – his eyes closed, and his body slumped into the comfort of the chair. When approaching him, Negan grabbed onto his barbed-wired bat with one hand and the man's shoulder with another. “Remember, despite out hospitality and our little deal, that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.” Negan warned, his voice quieter than usual, making for the warning to be a lot more personal and intimidating. “One mess up. One perceived threat. Hell, if I hear you moving around in here, I assure you, I will take this bat and bash your skull in and then I will kill you.”

Because of his final warning, Turner’s eyes slowly opened, his pupils dilatating accordingly to see the older, black-haired man lingering just inches away from his person – a stern and cold expression grasping his visibly tired and dirtied face. With the warning, the younger man simply nodded – not a word sounded from his mouth, not a breath lifted from his chest, not even a breaking of eye contact interrupted the two, just a silent and fear-filled agreement. 

Standing tall, Negan slapped the man’s shoulder just once while devilish smile replacing his cold expression, “good,” he smirked, “and with that,” he turned, walking towards the backroom where Nicole was lingering in the threshold, “have yourself a good night.”

Placing his hand on the small of her back to move her forward, the couple slipped into the back bedroom – their presence disappearing altogether from the man once the door closed and the ‘click’, indicating that the door was now locked. This lingering touch quickly faded as Negan walked to the small closet while Nicole took to her side of the bed.

“Mind if I change in here or would you rather I go put on a show for Turner?” Rummaging through the pile of dirty clothes, Negan finally found what he was looking for – a less than half bottle of cologne and a stick of deodorant that was on its last leg. 

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” Nicole almost teasingly replied while stripping off her jeans. All the while in doing this, her eyes glanced towards Negan at regular intervals as he stood before the small closet, spraying and applying the contents he held. Her glances turned into plain ogling when Negan began peeling off his jacket in a painfully slow manner. This was followed by him stripping his neck free from that ‘stupid red scarf’ - which he tossed over his shoulder towards the bed. Finally, with her gaze still latched onto the man, she traced each line of muscle on his back and lingered on several scars that were scattered across his now naked back. Heat rose up Nicole's neck at the sight and she absentmindedly traced her bottom lip with her tongue as his arms fell to his sides, the shirt crumpled in one hand. She placed her jeans on the bedside table and kept her body turned a bit away from him, but her gaze lingered on him for a moment too long - he cast a single glance over his shoulder and caught her looking his way. The man's chuckle made blood rush to her cheeks and she looked at the wall in front of her, trying her best to ignore the man that was to her left.

“Enjoying the show?” He teased, and when she didn’t answer, he pressed further. “You know, like you said, ‘looking’s for free, but touching is going to cost ya’, so go ahead and look away.” Accompanied with another chuckle, Negan turned, revealing the front of his chest to her, but since her eyes were now closed and her body turned away, it wasn’t much of a reveal. Looking over the woman, Negan came to the realization that she was wearing nothing more than that oversized flannel Turner had offered her and whatever lied beneath. With a slack jaw, Negan forced his eyes off her and down to his pants which he began to slowly unbutton and unzip.  "You're right, tonight's my lucky night," she replied in a huskier tone. Within a few seconds her shirt was open, and since Negan was still behind her, she peeled it off her shoulders and allowed it to slowly pool around her lower back before resting on top of the bed. There, she could feel his eyes latching onto her, scanning over her almost bare body as she tilted her head to the side and began to unhook her bra.

This time, instead of turning away, Negan watched as the process of her undressing unfolded. His eyes – just like her eyes had done just seconds before – scanned over her small frame, pinpointing the handful of dark freckles that marked her back and the imprint her bra left on her tan skin.  Within his mind, a waterfall of not only sexual thoughts flooded in but a string of curses as well, knowing far too well that if he were to remove his pants, he would truly reveal how much of a toll these games took on him, but Negan, a man who was very confident in his manhood, had nothing to worry about.   “I suppose that can go for the both of us,” Negan spoke, dropping his pants and turning to face her.

Reaching back and grabbing her flannel, she slipped it over her shoulders, buttoning the first few buttons, and leaving the bottom open. She then stretched her hands above her head and felt the pleasurable crack of her back in several places before she finally took to her feet and turned to Negan. Noticing that he was now only in his boxers, she had no shame now in letting her eyes trail along his body as her tongue ran across her lower lip before returning her eyes to his. She moved around the bed until she stood in front of him, her eyes rested on his lips as she took a step towards him. Running her fingertips along the man's arm until they came to a stop on his right breast, a devilish smile came to her lips before closing the gap between their lips, only to stop before making contact. “I’m guessing I’m going to have to pay for that.” A wide smile lifted her lips as she stepped back. Watching as the man leaned there like a fool, his eyes slowly opening, Nicole pulled away, crawling over the bed, grabbing hold of the scarf he had discarded before slipping beneath the covers.

A shaky breath escaped the man’s lips as a hand was brought to his face, covering his mouth and nose – his fingertips pulling his eyelids closed. Usually, Negan was one who had a good reign over his emotions, but right now, he was practically like a dog with a bone.

Approaching her end of the bed, Negan rested one knee on it, followed by a hand, which was followed by the other knee and hand. He lingered there for a moment before crawling towards her – an animalistic force driving him to do this. With every crawl, he came closer and closer until her body was under his and their faces were once again inches apart.

Nicole’s body buzzed as if on an adrenaline high, and her mind reeled with all the possibilities of what he would do or say next. They were both wild cards that slowly stepped over new limits with their growing desires. She didn't have to look down to know Negan’s arousal, the look on his face when she leaned into him just second before was enough. The blonde had him by the balls and he had played along like a child being coaxed with candy. Slowly, he rested a knee on the bed, and she lifted her chin and met his gaze challengingly, only to be surprised to find a predatory gleam there. The hairs on her arms instantly raised and her pupils dilated, intimidated by the nature of his approach, literally crawling across the bed until he was above her body - any control that she had once had on the situation was ripped away. Every cell of her body hummed to life beneath the shadow of Negan’s body. Her mind played through all the endless possibilities of how her night could pan out. She imagined his hands wandering across her skin, leaving trails of warmth behind them. Crystal orbs watched his lips as her mind played out what it might feel like to have them latched to her own or trailing down her jawline to her neck. Since her mind was buzzing with the images that tortured her.

Throughout the ordeal, Negan’s eyes never wavered – that predatory sexual hunger never faltering. He wanted her, and he knew the feeling was mutual in her eyes as well – it had to be, with all the teasing and the events that just unraveled within the past couple of minutes, he knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. 

“Why don’t we see how this red scarf looks on me.” And with that, rough and calloused hands slid onto the exposed skin of her leg, setting it ablaze with a rush of electricity that ended at her neck and she leaned forward, finally closing the gap between them. Her eyes closed and the hands that had once gripped the scarf now awoke and searched for a place to take hold. Her left hand moved from the front of his bare chest and around to between his shoulder blades, pulling her own body upwards to meet his as her right hand settled onto his neck. His body shifted away from her and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, not wanting him to break away just yet. In response his hand snaked up her leg until his arm was around her, supporting most of her weight as he lifted both of them off the bed. Suddenly her heart began thundering in her chest as her head tilted further into the kiss.

Slender legs tightened around his waist as Negan’s hands moved down to her calves and tried to remove her from him. The feel of her tongue gently racing across his bottom lip forced a soft and reluctant groan from the back of Negan’s throat in response before she finally allowed him to lower her body to the floor. Now, with her body pressed against his frame, he knew that she could feel the full extent of his erection against her. "Now, let's lay down a few rules," he began, his voice holding an authoritative tone while leaning to grab the crumbled-up scarf.

Now, his hands rested on top of her shoulders for a moment before slowly traveling down her arms, "I get to touch you, but you must keep your hands to yourself," his hands reached her wrists and lifted them, so he could begin tying entrapping them within the constraints of the cloth. "If you disobey an order," he finished constraining her before suddenly spinning her body around, making her stumble slightly until her back was pressed against his chest. Negan’s hand began to travel around his body while lips grazed her neck, never making full contact until they brushed lightly against her ear when he whispered, "I'll stop.”

As much as she wanted to shift into his hand to feel them press roughly against her again, she didn't, knowing that this might be considered her touching him. His feather-light touch sent chills traveling through whatever area of her body he chose to torture. Muscles tensed on cue and her head tilted to the side when his arm snaked around to lie flat on her stomach, but this didn’t last long for his hand began to move up her stomach. Nicole’s head leaned back until it rested in the crook of Negan’s neck as his left thumb started teasing the bottom of her breast while the tips of his right fingers slipped beneath her underwear and began moving along her slit. The blonde's breathing hitched as chills raced down her spine as he tilted his head and began nipping at her neck and ear, his beard a rough contrast to his tender lips. 

After what seemed like ages of agonizingly being teased, both hands suddenly attacked their indicated targets. Nicole's back arched- the fingers of his left hand roughly gripped her breast as the right's plunged into her. A soft moan escaped her lips and both of his hands immediately stopped. His left hand gently slid back down before gripping her side, turning her around and pushing her back onto the bed. Her eyes locked with the depths of brown as his left pointer finger pressed against his lips, 'shhhh' he whispered softly before hovering above her – his sights now targeting her neck and ear area.

"You," he breathed, taking the lobe of her ear between his teeth, and grazing it gently with his tongue before continuing, "are going to be – “, a trail of kisses started from the crease of her neck until he slowly kneeled for the edge of the bed, his kisses now sprinkling across her lower abdomen. “drowning in debt after this."

With that, he slowly pried open her legs before his index fingers looped around the material of her underwear and began pulling them off – while doing this, a string of kisses began to spread out across her thighs.

“Now remember, we have a guest in the room over, so try not to be too loud.” Negan teased, his hands coming up to lock around her thighs, pulling her body towards his face. Chuckling on last time, he glanced up at her before making sweet contact. At first, his licks were almost kitten-like as he teasingly lapped at her, feeling her squirm above him, but this didn’t last long. Instead of short and barely-making-contact-licks, Negan presented her with something more satisfying: a hand that was gliding up to grab her breast, a tongue, and lips that meticulously and rhythmically paid attention to her clit, and a pair of fingers that plunged into her.

This new and unfamiliar action made another soft moan fall from Nicole’s lips. In this moment, and for the moments to come, she wanted so desperately to grip onto the locks of his hair, but she knew, just as she had before, that this may be considered her disobeying his stern order. Instead, she allowed her hips to grind against him with every lick, nibble, and suckle. As a result, the wave of pleasure that was slowly building up throughout the ordeal was rapidly approaching – daring to wash over her body at any second.

“Oh, come on now, don’t hold back on me – you know I won’t do that to you.” He muttered, his breaths heavy and his eyes coming up to watch as her body grinded and squirmed with his actions. Watching as the woman passed closer and closer to climaxing, his hand gripped her breast more firmly, his fingers increased in pace, and his tongue continued bringing her pleasure.

It didn’t take long but her grinding came to a halt and her back arched – a wave of pleasure crashed through her body and a string of contractions wrapped around the culprit of her pleasure, making his fingers slowly come to a stop.

Pulling his fingers from her, Negan slowly lifted himself – his hand coming away from her breast to rest on the red scarf that kept her hands together. “I know I said that you’re going to be drowning in debt, but,” he paused, his tongue running along his lips to sponge up her fluids, “but you listened and didn’t touch, so I guess you’re in the free.”

Laughing, he brought his fingers up, examining them in the light – here, his eyes watched as his fingers glistened with her cum. A pride-filled smile spread across his lips before disappearing as his fingers came up and his mouth sucked them clean.

Untying the wrist from the limp woman’s arms, Negan took the scarf. “See, I told you that ‘stupid red scarf’ would look a lot better on you.”

[vacationcalendar]

8/7/21

Hi boyfriend~

Just took a weed gummie in honor of Bonnie’s birthday weekend. My present for my friend is that I’ll suck it up and be an active participant in their life for a change. I’ll be game for a whole weekend. I got up early today and tagged along to volunteer at a charity 5k. We grabbed some coffee and wandered to the halfway point of the course (thus walking an entire 5k in the process! Not too shabby ;D), and then camped out a water station that I’d say should be very grateful I actually showed up to work its sorry ass. Bonnie didn’t have to do any managing/delegating, they just got to post up and chatter at the runners-by. I’m pretty sure if I didn’t go, and I promise I am not tooting my own horn, that water stand would not have been the fun water stand that it was. They would have had 2 dunces making it go worse, and only 3 people managing 4 tables of water cups. Volunteers man, what are you gonna do? I’m sure that’s why they were looking for 8 people per water stand, just to statistically ensure that SOMEONE with half a brain would be around to help out.

Great morning though. JUST a little too hot, but that’s how you know you were doing solid work out there. The proof is in the pits, baby!

Ok, 40 minute bathroom break is over. Man, nothing like starting the blog to make me SO productive in the mornings! It’s such a cheat code. I did laundry, dishes, pooped; my whole day is bright and available now! But now I’m tired and I don’t want to write anymore. I had about a 6 minute where I wanted to do this today and I actually hit it for a second before I had to stop and do ANYTHING ELSE I guess. So, fuck. What do we write now?

I had to get up suuuuper early for this 5k thing, and I only got like 4 hours of sleep because I did not factor in the early wake up until like 6pm yesterday, and I had already slept like 14 hours that day :I That’s right, I woke up, immediately crushed the blog, went back to laying down, played League, and watched tv and shit until I felt tired enough to sleep and get ready for the 5k, which was 2am. So now I have a weed gummie digesting in me and I have a nap climbing up my priority list and this is why I don’t like weed. I feel like I have to plan my fucking shit around it, and I’m not good at that. Part of me thinks I can crash right now and wake up before the drugs make me sleep for 2 hours longer than I want, and give me weird, unpleasant dreams. I can’t possibly pull that off, I’m not sleepy, I’m just like sluggish. So basically what I have to do now is power through into the “trip” (maybe I’ll luck out and miss it and I can just pretend I’m high, which I won’t do, but hey we’re brainstorming here), and let that smoothly transition me into a nap. And THAT would mean that I have to entertain myself for the time being to get me into a good place to start being high...? And then I can like power up my activities WHILE high, and that would be fun. Playing video games, great. Playing video game high? That’s the whole point of it. I mean like, that’s the whole point of life, right? And then I can be like NAPTIME BITCH, and that would be fun also, in theory. And then I can go put a podcast on and go to the movies? Ugh, I don’t want to go the movies anymore. I’m to tired :( This sucks.

I’m trying to go see Green Knight. I’m sure that sentence won’t matter at all in even like 4 months from now, but I think it should be a fun time. So much more productive than anything I can do from the desk. And it’s not summertime like this forever. You gotta get that shit in so you don’t think you miss it when the weather turns. You want to be sitting inside on a cold autumn day thinking “good riddance, being outside is entirely overrated.” And I’m not there yet. Man I don’t know. Well how bout this? Let’s do a little more brainstorming while I’m trapped here writing to your dumb ass. If you ever read these again this part will be like a little prank on you lol. Ok: 1: Stay here, no movie. Let’s lock that in. that should make having to navigate being high so much easier. Let’s let the pipe dream of doing everyone’s favorite thing of being at a theater high wait just a little longer. Today can be a trial run. We’ll walk around today and think about what it would be like if I had biked 20 minutes to a movie theater and watched a 2 hour movie and biked home. And when we suss out that it would have been unenjoyable, we’ll feel like geniuses for making this call. So that’s out of the way. LOCK IT IN

2. I don’t know yet. Let’s just start simple. Food. What’s up? We have almost no groceries. We have no bread for a tuna salad sandwich, but let’s put that in the to-do list. We need more english muffins too. That was an A+ 10/10 move last month. Just muffins w/ strawberry jam, and egg McMuffins whenever the fuck I wanted, which was always. Frozen Veggies like Corn or Beans would be good. Bag Chop Salad kits. They weren’t on sale last week, and it’s goddamn highway robbery when they’re at full price. So this week would be the perfect time to check in on ‘em. And I’ll commit more to an equivalent substitute this time if I can’t find a good deal. Let’s see, what else? Oof my wpm and accuracy is starting to take a hit. The first and only symptom! Nice! Miku. Meat. Spaghetti and meat sauce? Gotta check out what ragu shit you have in the house before you do that. Consider this your reminder! I know you’ve never successfully pulled that off, but I have full confidence in you. Oh fuck, now I’m starting to worry a little bit the coherent quality of this is about to start dropping. Well, another fun little prank for ya bitch! Fruit leathers? I just have no fucking idea. Ok, so shopping can 100% wait for another day. This isn’t anywhere close to a cohesive trip. So we can eat out somewhere! Great, lock it bitch. I’m starting to swear more; it’s because I can’t find the right words anymore. Oh boy, the weed smelling burps are happening. This really is so gross and difficult. Beer is just a more bitter version of soda. It’s actively refreshing. Damn, if only I’d been a little more exposed to peer pressure at an earlier age. I’d have been past this awkward uncomfortable phase of weed, like how I (and basically everyone) was with alcohol. You slam Natty Lites with your nose closed until you start to realize life is little more pleasurable than the absolute Kelvin zero you had come to be familiar with. Uh, ok, I’m starting to let my mind wander. He’s daydreaming, chief! I suppose I could just transcribe the dialogue of the daydreams, but I can’t keep up. This is just break o’clock.

3. What do I fucking eat!? I had to make a whole nother numbered point, and I still don’t have the plan. Jesus H,. Ok here’s what AROUND. Chex Mix, unopened. 1 Grape Soda. Cookie Dough Ice Cream (w choc sauce). Raisins, PB, Ramen, meh. Reese Cups! I just looked behind and was like, “oh yeah! Nice”. If that’s not everything, that’s REALLY close. So what’s calling my name? Pizza? Chinese? Damn, I might just have to play this by ear. Nothing at all sounds interesting, and I’m not the slightest bit hungry (we got free Dim Sum after the 5k. It was called the Dim Sum and Then Some 5k). Ok, so other options to keep on the back burner for later would be: Kebab, Chicken Sandwich, go get Pizza Rolls and Chippies at the store. Ok that’s enough options, that fuckin really took it outta me, I can’t believe it. My hands are kinda feeling heavier now too. I better think of a #4 thing to write about quick or I may lose all my inertia.

4. UMmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Movie time? I watch arrival and turn off all the lights and pop popcorn and have my soda? Where sunglasses and pretend they’re 3-D glasses? Maybe. Ugh, I can tell right now my eyes are gonna get bloodshot, or dry out or whatever. They already kinda hurt :(. It’s fine. I feel more good than not. Like I’m wrapped up in a blanket, even though I’m not. Maybe OH- Maybe I lay out on the beach chair and read in the sun with an ice coffee? Oh fuck that might actually be perfect. Then I can go no shirt and just feel nature, and maybe bugs are less troublesome when you’re high. And then I can pop Doughboys on and shower! Shower high, seems like a guaranteed home-run. Ok, I like it a lot. I have to do SOMETHING away from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum or I’ll go crazy this weekend, especially if I have to tag in on occasion and “participate” for Bonnie’s Birthday. Which, let’s be clear, is the least I can do. It’s a gimme. I owe Bonnie AT LEAST this much, even just as like backpay for holidays or yore. Like if I have the zhuzh to punch in for birthday shtuff, I better do it, right? I just looked it up, it might officially be zhoosh, not zhuzh, but zhuzh appears to me to be the best way to do it. And there’s like 5 accepted spellings of it. Stupid, not helpful. Just because it employs a sound that has no [conformed] applications in the english language? Poor excuse! Oh man, it’s so early I can’t believe it! That 5k feels like a day ago, wild. Well, hey! Point 4 is finished. Moving on!

5. What to do tonight? Who gives a fuck. Figure that part out when you get there, it does not matter at all. There, numbered list over.

Ok so, let’s just wrap this up I guess. I’m cracking an hour here, that’s plenty. Maybe tonight you do a little PRE-WRITING before bed, so this isn’t so “chore-y”. Let’s just remember you seriously considered letting yourself down completely and bailing on the blog earlier this morning. So we need to keep our expectations at appropriate levels still. It’s this NEXT week that should be very interesting. Just in terms of output. A little more practice, and little more muscle-memory. A little less crap to distract me (I have been burning through non-stop crap youtube/tv this last week since coming home, it’s fantastic. I was gonna say it was sucky, or disgusting or something, but that’s a lie I tell to myself to pretend I’m more diligent than I actually am. ACCEPT who you are and love yourself for it)

I accept you and love you Max. Ok, I have to go, I feel like I’m gonna puke... awesome 

bi