#writing is not a good distraction to me as opposed to reading

[letstrywritingmaybe]

My Pens won last night! Which means I’m allowed to write, so I started the next chapter of the sibling verse but of course now that I’m allowed I don’t wanna do it. So I’ll be reading a book book instead

Update: call me a hater, but I do not understand Shinichi’s fascination with Holmes when Poirot exists. But I am biased for Christie’s works. I’ve only read one Sherlock novel so maybe I shouldn’t judge so quickly. Maybe I’ll write a fic about CoAi bickering over who’s better after I’ve read more.

Update 2: I did at least finish one scene of the next chapter of the sibling verse. My priority was rereading/editing my solstice event fic though, and not to toot my own horn but I love it. Then again I’m a self indulgent writer, I have to love every thing I write

[stardustizuku]

Unfortunately I came across a very strange and misinformed video about Black Butler.

It’s not good. Don’t watch it. Unless you wanna ruin your day, in which case have fun.

Despite it all, I watched it. What left me wondering, however, was how off the mark the person who made the video was on, well, everything.

From their insistence that the Book of Circus Arc theme or point is non existent, to reading Ciel’s character so badly they genuinely thought the Green Witch Arc did nothing for his character development.

While baffled, it also made me think on how someone could read Black Butler so badly.

Sure, you can say that there’s no real way to read or interpret something “in the wrong way” but interpreting The Hunger Games as a pure battle-royale action story would make you believe it’s bad.

“Why are we focusing so much on how the capitol preps them?” Or “Why isn’t Katniss winning everything?” Or “I wanna know more about the rebellion” All questions that miss the actual point of the story - which is criticizing (not solving or ignoring) the way that media distracts us from violence via spectacle.

The same thing applies here. While there is no “right” way to consume media, there’s things that the author makes clear they wanna focus when creating a story. Things that, if you understand, make the story you’re reading actually make sense.

And in Black Butler there’s three things that you have to understand to properly get what Yana is saying.

Sebastian is the protagonist

Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship IS the story.

And that relationship is, fundamentally, a positive one.

A quicker version of it would be:

Black Butler is a love story from the POV of Sebastian, and you have to ship it to get it

- but that’s not entirely true.

You can still look at it as a complex but ultimately positive rship and get in broad strokes of what it’s conveying. It doesn’t have to be romantic. Although, it helps much more than a platonic framing.

(That said, interpreting their rship as father and son, still isn’t the best way to go about it. Mostly because by its very nature of “soul consuming” their relationship is extremely sexually charged. And hey, if you’re into that I don’t judge. However, if you’re desperately trying to interpret their rship as NOT romantic to the point you fall back on heteronormative patriarchal ideals of nuclear familiar as framing device, I don’t think this interpretation bodes with you)

Now, having all that ground work:

Why do I say these are the key components to understand BB?

Okay so, first,

1. Sebastian is the Main Character. The protagonist.

There’s a lot of people who wanna argue against it, claiming he’s either the villain or the antagonist. Both wrong.

He does not function as an antagonist. Even if, and an emphasis on if, you consider Ciel to the protagonist, Sebastian isn’t a narrative antagonist.

If you wanna go back to Creative Writing 101, be my guest. An antagonist is directly defined by the protagonist. It’s the opposing force. If the protagonist wants A, the antagonist wants to stop them from getting A.

Sebastian’s catchphrase is “Yes, my Lord”. He never opposes Ciel, in fact quite the contrary. By the mere fact they’ve created contract, it means that they’ve both agreed in the inevitable outcome.

People want to frame Sebastian as the villain, because Ciel having his soul taken by a demon, would be a BAD END in the context of their moral compass. They see Ciel as a frail victim of abuse, who’s being tricked by Sebastian, who wants Ciel’s soul.

Which is an. Interpretation. A bad one. But still one.

The narrative (and whether the narrative fits your personal moral compass and lack of critical thinking is irrelevant) treats Ciel as an agent in his own destiny. The abuse he suffered was the moment in which he had no control. It’s only after he meets Sebastian that he can rid of both his guilt and his despair, and do what he wants.

In this case though, it’s revenge.

The famous “Asthma” scene shows this. If Ciel is taken back to his past, he becomes helpless. Swarmed with pain and memories that make it so that he can’t even react. Sebastian is his saving grace. If Ciel didn’t have him, and the power he wields to rebuilt what’s broken, he would crumble once more.

If Ciel has a panic attack, because of all the pain he has, Sebastian picks him up and says “you are not a helpless child anymore, you are not a victim anymore, you have the power to do anything. So, what do you wanna do?”

Ciel’s answer is to kill them.

A proper analogy would be to say that, if Sebastian offers a gun, Ciel pulls the trigger. They are both at fault. Sebastian, strictly speaking, is not here to directly cause Ciel’s downfall, but as a tool Ciel uses to plunge into the abyss.

If, again if, you were to frame Ciel as a protagonist, Sebastian falls closer to the “Voice of reason” character. Not a literal voice of reason, but a literary one. If you have a protagonist and an antagonist exchanging ideals, the Voice of Reason serves to engage with the protagonist on their own ideals.

That said, Ciel isn’t the protagonist. The story quickly falls apart if you interpret it as such.

Things such as Ciel’s character arc being…shall I say odd?

It’s not that his character arc isn’t there, but it’s never lineal. His goals stay the same, the only thing that happens is that we start to peel back the “why”s of his goals. Throughout the series it’s never about Ciel understanding himself better, he knows who he is, he knows what he wants, he knows why he wants it. He doesn’t ever need to uncover these, but simply remember them. Because it’s always about the audience understanding Ciel.

He knows he wants revenge.

In the Circus Arc: He knows that he needs Sebastian because without him, the pain of the abuse he suffered would be too much to bear. But WE are introduced to it.

In the Book of Atlantis: He knows that with this new lease he does not want happiness and peace, he wants revenge. The one being told this is the audience.

In Green Witch Arc: He knows that their revenge isn’t for his family, the real Ciel or guilt. It’s because he wants it. He’s angry, he’s upset, and this is entirely for him. The one being told this is the audience.

Except. Not really. The one either discovering or remembering these key moments - is always Sebastian.

Sebastian is the one who reassures him that he now holds the power of a demon to override the pain. Sebastian is the one who remembers that to override that pain, Ciel wants revenge. And Sebastian is the one who discovers that that revenge isn’t built out of grief or guilt, but for himself.

We are witnessing it all, through the eyes of Sebastian.

This is why we have an extremely vague idea of who Ciel is, Sebastian does not have the whole picture.

If you haven’t been reading this manga with your eyes closed, you’ll realize we have a better grasp at Sebastian’s character than that of Ciel. We get a lot of insight on how he thinks and what he values through light hearted dialogue he has with the servants. You even see the character development in these little interactions.

Think about how when he first arrived to the mansion he magically created food with no regards to taste, but when he meets Bard he states that food is created to see whoever will eat it, smile.

That is character development, more than you will be able to see from Ciel.

Because Ciel’s character, while not static, doesn’t go from point A to point B. Mostly, cause it doesn’t need to. He went through that when he lost the real Ciel and got Sebastian. Everything we are watching is the falling out.

Now, given the fact that I’ve told you that it makes more sense for Sebastian to be the protagonist/main character, and that he 100% isn’t either a villain or antagonist in ANY of the interpretations you can get:

Do you believe me?

If you don’t, you’ll probably believe Yana herself.

This is from the first Volume, where Yana herself describes the process of making Black Butler. The primary idea behind the creation of BB was a butler as a “hero”.

If you go back to the introductory chapter, you notice that Ciel is barely mentioned. He’s simply the one to give Sebastian impossible tasks and standards that Sebastian must find how to overcome.

Ciel is properly introduced until the NEXT chapter. The second chapter has this formula too, introducing Lizzie as a problem to overcome. Although, to Sebastian the best way to “get rid of the problem” is simply to indulge her.

The issue here being that the problem isn’t as simple as a business meeting but something directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s past. Each time that Sebastian has to solve a problem, it chips away at Ciel. While with Lizzie he shows a persona, once he’s alone with Sebastian he acknowledges the toll it took on him. It serves to build Ciel as Sebastian’s master, and how some problems aren’t as simple as discarding a tablecloth.

The third and the fourth, are a unified narrative, with a similar premise to the first chapter. Ciel gets kidnapped and Sebastian must find a way to retrieve him without raising suspicions.

If the first chapter is to set up what Sebastian must do as a butler, the third and the fourth serve to set up what he must do as a demon.

The entirety of the volume, and up to Book of Circus Arc, is about how Sebastian tries to follow the increasingly absurd orders that Ciel has - it is not about Ciel trying to solve them.

That’s how they work, we follow Sebastian for the most part, because he’s the one having to come up with the solutions.

If anything, in early Kuro, where the emphasis was more on a slice of life conflict, Ciel is the antagonist. He’s the one creating problems for Sebastian to solve.

What’s more, in the second volume, the very first chapter is one from Sebastian’s POV. So far, we hadn’t gotten an entire chapter from Ciel’s POV. In fact, I would find it hard to point to a single chapter where Ciel is the POV throughout. The reveal of real Ciel and the flashback is the closest contender.

But once we move past early Kuro, and into Book of Circus, this set up changes.

It’s fairly easy to assume that Ciel is the main character, because from this point on the conflict of the plot sorta surrounded him. We spend a lot of time with him and with his story. The enemies start being people directly tied to Ciel and Ciel’s trauma. Rarely, if at all, we get to see Sebastian before he met Ciel.The framing device for the story, is Ciel.

This is where point 2 gets intertwined.

2.- Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship IS the story.

The story begins at the point where Sebastian and Ciel met. Who Ciel was before he met Sebastian, informs why he’s the way he is when he does. You have to know all he went through to understand why he’s a brat, why he lashes out. However Sebastian’s past doesn’t matter…because Sebastian himself doesn’t care much for who he was, before he was “Sebastian”. That’s also part of the narrative.

Unlike Ciel, he doesn’t seem opposed to revealing information from before the contract. He talks about how pets from where he is from are gross, he talks about how he knows how to dance because of other places he’s been to, and alludes to the life he's lived before.

Just that, to him, they're footnotes.

He makes allusions to a very bland, uninteresting life, up to the point he meets Ciel.

That’s why we don’t know more about his past.

As for why we focus on Ciel’s story…okay maybe we need Creative Writing lessons 102

I studied Dramaturgy for about 3 to 4 years. And something you notice is how play-writing is the quintessential story telling. It’s making it work with the bare bones of a story.

Some other mediums have more finesse, more depth, or more spectacle - all amazing things that work for whatever they’re created for. But understanding a play, how and why it works, helps understand the fundamentals of any derivative story telling medium.

Particularly, conflict.

Conflict is dialogue and dialogue can take many forms. A story, in its essence, is a dialogue between two opposing ideas.

Take Batman, for example, who embodies the ideas of justice and order. On his own, he’s not a well rounded character.

If you ONLY present him, in a vaccum with nothing else, you don’t have a character. You have a list of characteristics that you’re supposed to know.

You only know who he is when you have dialogue with another character.

I say Dialogue, but it doesn’t necessarily mean spoken language at one another. Dialogue can mean fist fighting, playing tabletop games, talking to other people about the other, or even just a competition. The idea is to simply to compare and contrast both ideas.

If you want an example on how tabletop games serve as dialogue, watch the video “Well, Someone Had to Explain the Liar’s Dice Scene” by Lord Ravecraft

Another example, were we to retake Batman, you have him fight Joker. Who’s the embodiment of chaos and randomness.

In the following picture, you get far more information than the one previously shown. While the Joke fights with daggers and fake guns, Batman only uses his fists. He doesn’t use the tricks that Joker does. His serious demeanor, contrasted with Joker’s glee at the dangerous situation. The fact that Batman has a deathly grip on Joker’s shirt, while the Joker doesn’t, which shows a desperation to catch him.

You are being shown, through a dialogue, who Batman is.

It’s so much easier and much more effective to explore a character through another character.

This is the reason why Shonen has a tendency to make incredibly good gay ships. If you want to explore Naruto’s personality, and his feelings of inferiority, you HAVE to have him interact with Sasuke.

If you wanna understand Hinata’s passion for volleyball, you have him enjoy himself the most with the only other crazy motherfucker who’s as obsessed with volleyball - Kageyama.

And I think that originally, Yana had this problem.

Sebastian was the protagonist, but she had little room to develop him as a character in the confines of the manor, dealing with random enemies.

She likely tried to create Grell as someone of the same stature as Sebastian. Someone who could be this other person to engage dialogue with and show or allude to his past a bit more.

The problem being that Sebastian didn’t care for his past. Or really, engaging with anyone. He sees everyone as below him, but when confronted with Grell who isn’t below him, he doesn’t wanna talk to her.

So you’re stuck in conundrum.

How do you have dialogue with a character, that as a character trait, doesn’t really wanna have dialogue?

Well, Grell also solves the problem. Because only the moment she gets him to start any semblance of a dialogue - is questioning why he’s serving Ciel.

And this is the moment when it’s perfectly cemented that the focus of the story is their relationship.

Why is Sebastian here? Why does he stay? What did he see in Ciel that made him want this extremely convoluted contract?

THATS the dialogue.

THATS the conversation we’re having in Black Butler.

We need to know Ciel because understanding who he is, let’s us know WHY /Sebastian/ is here.

Then slowly, with the introduction with the Undertaker, we find out Sebastian’s conflict.

Which is…

He’s scared of losing Ciel. It becomes apparent with the constant imagery of the Undertaker taking away Ciel and at some point even obtaining r!Ciel’s body, that he’s worried it might happen.

But he can only be worried that Ciel might be taken away if he wants to stay near Ciel.

And that’s his character arc.

Realizing that he actually likes Ciel, cares for him and the role he plays a butler that he doesn’t want this to end.

In the first chapters, he doesn’t feel a need to protect Ciel anymore than what’s strictly necessary. Just don’t die, that’s about as deep as his involvement in chapter 4 gets.

But by the Green Witch Arc, he feels a need to protect Ciel from ANY harm.

This is why I also said

3.- Their relationship is fundamentally a positive one.

In broad strokes, Sebastian to Ciel is the person who allows him to survive. He’s not worried about giving up his soul since he’s already dead. While Ciel to Sebastian, is someone who’s making him have fun. He’s slowly becoming more and more attached to Ciel and the life he has with Ciel.

Their relationship is not that of just a predator and prey, but also of master and pet.

In the terms that Black Butler itself would call: Sebastian is a wild wolf acting like a collared dog.

Ciel is aware that the wild beast will eat him at the end of the day, but if he clings hard to leash for now, he might just be able to have Sebastian maul his abusers.

Sebastian as a dog, currently finds that he enjoys being a chained dog.

(This is demonstrated in the Green Witch arc where he quite literally says, he doesn’t wanna be a wild beast and prefers to be a butler)

And much like the actual DOG Sebastian, Ciel constantly interprets his attempts to get close and protect him, as an act of aggression.

This push and pull of Ciel’s perception of Sebastian and Sebastian’s true motives is what feeds the story.

And the briefs interludes were that isn’t the case (what other people call the “plot”, but I would refer to as the connective tissue) such as Sullivan and Wolfram, the other servant’s past, the grim reapers and the like, serve as a parallel to Ciel and Sebastian relationship. Either to signify how they care for each other, highlight their weaknesses or fears, or explore how they feel.

It’s no surprise that Sullivan and Wolfram are parallels to Ciel and Sebastian. A sheltered sickly child who seeks the protection of a cold hearted machine that only knew how to kill, but who eventually found he cared for her genuinely.

Undertaker and Claudia’s relationship being heavily paralleled with them, even though we aren’t 109% sure what they had but heavily implied it was a romantic attraction from the undead supernatural creature and a Phantomhive.

Everything is a parallel.

That’s why, like the approach of the terrible original video, is flawed.

Trying to interpret Black Butler as action scene after action scene, with mystery after mystery with the only connective tissue being the mystery of who burned down the mansion - is missing the trees for the forest.

That’s not the point.

And if you’re too much of a prude to engage with gothic horror in its gothic horror game, I see little point as to why you even bother to engage with it at all.

A lot of people, including the person who create the video, simply refuse to acknowledge Black Butler IS the story of Sebastian and Ciel as a close and positive relationship, romantically and sexually charged. The reason for it being that they’re “put off” by it.

Part of me wonders how much that is genuinely true, and how much is just performative outrage. It’s like ignoring the fact that Cersei and Jami are in an incestous relationship and try to frame it as “platonic love”, because the idea of it is THAT off putting.

But regardless of that, if you don’t like the fact that it’s as canon as canon can get, I would reccomend you don’t engage with the story at all.

As I’ve explained, the entirety of the series is about them. If you refuse to see Sebastian and Ciel as, at the very least, a duo that cares deeply for the other - you aren’t reading Black Butler.

I have no idea what you’re reading.Perhaps your own biases and subconscious stigma with British aesthetic. At that point, watch the fucking British Royalty Gossip Magazine. You’d find more substance there.

Just don’t be like the person in the video, please? Don’t play dumb. Don’t ignore the fact that Yana is a Shotacon, don’t ignore the fact Sebastian is a hero, don’t ignore the fact that the entirety of the story is based on Sebastian and Ciel’s dynamic.

Because if you do, you are ashamed. You are ashamed of what this story is about. You don’t wanna engage with the text, you want to engage with yourself. You wanna project into Ciel whatever traumas and experiences you have, for the sake a vanity project, where you come out as the morally superior.

You don’t wanna talk about Black Butler, you wanna talk about how good YOU are. How you “don’t sin” by watching it “without all the gross unholy stuff”.

Which is the exact opposite of what BB is about.

So, if you don’t want to, save us all the humiliation fetish and leave.

[jflemings]

hey this example sounds so good!!!! so pls cook this ilysm!!!! kk harvey x shy!reader (maybe shes a premed or nursing major), the library, "you don't talk much, do you?" again ILYSMMM TYOUUUU

— pestering

caroline harvey x shy!reader

ficlet

“so are you gonna come to the game? lacey mentioned she talked to you about it” caroline says as she swings the plastic chair around so it’s backwards.

she moves your sprawled out notes into a neat pile and folds her arms over the back of the chair, ducks her head, and looks at you. you spare her a side glance and shrug. lacey had indeed asked you about going to their first home game of the season, but you wanted to get ahead of your studies to save stress later on and you couldn’t do that if you were distracted. like you’re beginning to be now.

kk peers over your notes, running her finger along the edge of the leaflet of paper “you’ve got really neat handwriting. mine sometimes looks like chicken scratch” she says as she continues to read “i don’t know how you can even study this stuff, i feel like i don’t know what half of these words mean”

you crack a smile but continue re-writing what you’re revising, almost paying caroline no attention.

the two of you weren’t friends, per say, but you were friendly. lacey was your mutual ground and the two of you would only really interact if she was your buffer because you were so painfully shy and kk just… wasn’t. she was outgoing and confident in social situations, finding it easy to slide into conversation with the people around her. you, on the other hand, tended to find yourself hiding behind your friends and their habit of engaging in loud conversation. it allowed you to fade into the background and merely listen.

but now, the hockey player has seemingly set out on a mission to change that.

“you don’t talk much, do you?” she asks again, quieter this time, when she remembers that it’s not just you two in the common area of the library.

you shrug “i prefer to listen” you answer quietly as you fiddle with the cap of your pen.

kk smiles “so you’d seriously sit here and listen to me talk whilst you study?”

“if you had planned to sit here and watch me study, then yeah. i guess”

her eyes narrow and a moment passes where neither of you speak. you feel hot under her gaze and hope to god that your face isn’t as red as it feels right now.

“i hadn’t planned too. but if you’re offering, i’m not opposed” she says lowly as she leans into your personal space.

“i didn’t offer anything. you’re the one that sat down” you point at her. she holds her hands up in defence but settles back over the chair, now quiet as you continue with your studies.

you get a good five minutes of quiet before she speaks up again.

the olympian kisses her teeth “i still think you should come to the game”

“i don’t even know the rules of hockey” you answer, not looking up from your page.

“i’ll teach you! or lacey, if that’s better”

you put down your pen and rest your chin on your hand “you aren’t going to let up until i agree to go, are you?”

caroline shakes her head no and shows you a cheeky grin “no probably not”

sighing, you relent “fine” you hold a finger up just as she looks like she’s about to accidentally cheer in a quiet library “but you have to leave me alone for the rest of today. if i’m going to go then i really need to get this finished”

in one swift motion, she stands and places the chair the right way around. she salutes you “i’ll see you there”

[emhm]

Coffee? Please?

Let me preface this by saying; I am not disabled and this is not about 'urgent' vet bills.

[I have an outstanding debt to pay in that regard, but the monthly payment is small and the service was already done. It was the amputation for our kitten Lucky's dead front leg.]

I do have a job and the pay is too good to quit. I work 40 hours a week and I spend almost 13 more hours just driving to and from work because our boss 'can't find a work assignment closer to where I live.' Up until about two weeks ago my partner was also working 40 hours a week on an opposing shift. We were just starting to get on top of our crushing pile of monthly bills. Then she lost her work assignment [not her fault] and he couldn't find anything else for her to do. So she lost a whole weeks pay. He found her a place, but now she's only getting 24 hours a week instead of 40. And we were already struggling to pay for the bare essentials. I was hoping so hard to just have something left when the bills were paid. But my entire tax return was used to pay for overdue bills and it still wasn't all of them.

-We have not had a working washing machine since September. Almost all of my ancient towels have rotted and ripped apart from trying to hang dry them to avoid killing the dryer too.

-Our house does not have central heat or air so we've been freezing for months with no money to buy wood for the stove. [It's warmer now but still in the low 40s at night where I am.]

-We have been flushing the toilet with buckets of water for almost a year because hiring a plumber is not happening.

-For over a year we have been fighting the flea infestation caused by the deadbeat trash-pit roommate we had to force to move out. They're biting me as well as the cats and I'm allergic to them. So I constantly have a rash on my feet and ankles. We never have money for flea drops consistently enough to get rid of them and I do not have a working vacuum to get rid of the flea eggs in the carpet.

-I just had to take on $1200 worth of debt because my tires were bald from my ungodly commute and they told me the brakes need replacing very soon.

-Our youngest cat Lucky will need to be fixed soon because she's almost old enough to go into heat. [She's indoors only but I don't want to deal with the screaming.]

Our predatory mortgage payment is almost $2000 a month with all their shitty add-on fees. My car payment is $334. The internet is $87. The power is usually $125. Car insurance is about $115. Garbage is $65. Our car is shared and I go through 1 tank +1/4 tank of gas EVERY WEEK. I owe both Sunbit AND Carecredit. We're both estranged from abusive parents and have no other family to turn to in an emergency.

I can't ask for money for fanfic. I know that's unethical and illegal.

But I can tell you that I write better/faster/more when I'm not distracted by gut-wrenching despair, crippling anxiety attacks and the bone-deep fear of quickly losing my home because I'm always two missed paychecks away from disaster. I know pretty much everyone is in the same boat, and my problems aren't unique or special.

But anything helps.

I have several hundred dollars in overdue bills from last month and it's already time for the next month's to start arriving. I feel so hopeless and I don't know what else to do besides resorting to begging.

I just set up a Ko-fi account - https://ko-fi.com/followmeontumblr

My Paypal is attached to this old email address - Nightshade518@yahoo.com

I have an Etsy shop with some things for sale - https://www.etsy.com/shop/PatchworkLaboratory

I also have a Spoonflower shop with fabric featuring my designs. [I only make $1.50 per yard that people buy though.] - https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/infamousdoctorf

And for anyone who was kind enough to read this whole thing- I do have some NSFW sketches I've drawn for "Eclipse Meets His Match" that I have nowhere safe to post. If you're bold enough to direct-message me with the line-

"I swear on all I hold holy that I am not a minor. Show me the art."

I'll let you see them. Thank you either way.

-Doc

[e-dubbc11]

Hi, Ericca! I hope you’re well, my friend! 💜

How about, “Did they hurt you?” From the Protective Prompts with Billy?

Love you! 💜

My lovely Katherine,

Thank you SO much for participating in my sleepover but mostly thank you for being such a good friend to me, also supporting and reading my work…all of it means so much to me.

I love you to pieces and I hope you like what I did here, it took a turn I wasn’t expecting but I like the way it turned out.

Don’t Touch What’s Mine

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, violence, swearing,

Word Count: 1.9K-ish

Summary: You write short stories for an online magazine and you like to do your writing at the New York Public Library. After finishing for the day, you’re waiting for your train and run into some unexpected trouble.

A/N: The “kids” I make mention of in this one are 18 and over…not actual children. Just making it clear. And thank you to my lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass for reading this and coming up with the title for me 😘

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“I love that picture of you.” He said, wrapping his long arms around your waist from behind and leaning down to kiss your neck.

It was a picture of you as a little girl in front of the New York Public Library, sitting in front of one of the majestic stone lions that sits out in front of the building.

You smiled, picked up the framed picture, and said, “I do too. That was my first trip to the library. I’d love to recreate that picture, same pose, same big cheese smile. That would be fun, wouldn’t it baby?”

You set the frame back down on the table.

Billy kissed your temple. “Yes it would be, my love. I’ll take it for you whenever you’re ready. You’re goin’ there tomorrow, aren’t ya?”

You wrote little short stories for an online magazine. They published them weekly and you usually did your writing at the library because it was quiet and there weren’t any distractions there as opposed to at the penthouse, where there were plenty. Your incredibly handsome boyfriend being one of those many distractions.

“I am, my deadline is in a couple days and I need to finish what I’ve been working on.” You said.

“Well, if you’re still there when I get off work, let me know and I’ll come get ya. I don’t like you walkin’ or taking the train.” He said. “Too many crazies out there lately.”

“I’ll be careful, handsome.” You said, turning around and burying your face into his soft gray sweater.

You inhaled the scent of his cologne, your fingers tangled in the fabric of the sweater, and his body was a warm cradle for yours. You felt safe in his embrace.

Billy always made you feel safe and he would fiercely protect you from anything and anyone. There was a sense of calm when Billy had his hands on you. He helped you relax, he made you feel at ease and the tension from the day just disappeared whenever he was around.

“Promise me you’ll be careful? There have been a lot of muggings around there lately.” He said, sternly.

“I already said I would, Billy. Yes, I will be careful.” You said with a warm smile. “You worry too much…but I know why you do. I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He replied.

The Next Day

Inside of the library was beautiful. Books on every wall from floor to ceiling. Rows of long wooden tables and chairs are set up in rooms with high ceilings and chandeliers with small table lamps set up every couple of feet for extra light.

Your bag carried all of your essentials…laptop, water, snacks, and a notebook. Billy bought the laptop for you. It was a really nice one too, you felt like you couldn’t accept it but he knew how much you loved to write so he wanted you to have the best and all the best programs to use.

He was always extremely thoughtful.

After staring at a blank page for what felt like forever, your inspiration came to you and it hit you like a ton of bricks. The words were flying from your brain, to your fingers, and onto the screen.

You were really proud of what you had written and felt good that you were actually going to be early for your deadline. You were on such a roll, that you decided to start another piece before you were out of energy and it was time to leave.

The sun had already started to go down and the late fall winds kissed your face as you walked through the revolving door. You knew Billy wasn’t out of work yet so you made your way to train that was about a five-minute walk away from the library.

The cool fresh air felt nice against your face since you had basically been inside all day. The streets weren’t too busy as you descended the stairs to catch your train. Since it was a little after quitting time, the platform wasn’t filled with people.

You had just missed the train so you would have to wait for another one. Standing on the platform, you could feel someone watching you. Slowly turning around, you saw a tall kid, no more than 20, standing behind you. And he was a little too close for your liking so you stepped forward a couple of steps. A few of his friends then joined him.

You heard the train rumbling along the tracks, light shining down the tunnel, and the brakes started to squeak.

Suddenly, your bag was ripped from your shoulder by one man and you were shoved down to the ground, very close to the edge of the platform by another.

You were careful not to move too quickly because you were dangerously close to falling onto the tracks. The group of men took off with your bag, no one tried to stop them, and a couple people rushed to see if you were alright.

Your laptop was gone, along with everything else that was inside of your bag, mainly, the thumb drive that had your story on it. Luckily, your phone and money were in your pocket so they didn’t take that from you. You hit the ground hard but you felt alright and when you looked up, you noticed two police officers running toward you. They took down your statement and the description of the men and they let you go home.

It upset you to know that the laptop Billy bought you was gone. He was so happy when he gave it to you and now you had to go home and tell him that it was gone.

When he arrived home, he found you drinking hot tea and standing in front of the large window, looking down at the busy streets below. He knew something was wrong. You had already cleaned yourself up, cried in the shower but burst into tears again as soon as he asked you “What’s wrong, baby?”

You had to tell him what happened. He sat and listened, his face flushed with rage when you told him they pushed you and hit the ground hard.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, breathless with anger.

“I’m ok, Billy. I’m just sorry I lost the laptop you gave me. I know how expensive it was.” You said, with a hitch in your voice.

You weren’t used to nice things like that. You lived comfortably as a child, but nothing like this. You were still trying to get used to living in Billy’s penthouse.

“I can buy you another laptop, sweet girl. I’m not worried about that; I’m worried about YOU! Are you alright?!” He asked, clenching his fists.

Brushing his beard with your thumbs, trying to calm him down, you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. You were ok, but your story and your laptop were gone.

“I’m fine, baby. I am. It’s just…my story is gone too. I worked really hard on it and I think it’s one of the better pieces I’ve written and they took it.” You said.

“What station was it?” Asked Billy.

“It was Times Square…why?” You asked.

Billy got up and grabbed his jacket.

“I’ll be back. They’ve done it once so they’ll do it again. But they won’t after tonight.” He said.

Before you could protest, he was gone.

And he was right. They did it again. Billy watched four young men enter the subway, steal a backpack, and take off. He followed close behind them, doing his best to blend in and stay out of sight.

They ducked into an empty office building and took the backpack to a conference room where they kept everything they took for the day. Billy thought, more than likely, they would try and sell everything the next day.

He pulled his weapon.

“None of you fuckin’ move or you’re all dead.” Said Billy, softly and calmly but with acid in his tone.

They all froze.

Billy looked at their faces and thought if he didn’t change his stars that their lives could have been his. If he didn’t join the Marines after aging out of the group home, he could have been right where these kids were.

He could have been out assaulting people and committing crimes and in that moment, he was grateful. He had built something, created something, and became successful. Also during all of that, he found you.

Billy found someone that loved him and he loved you; he would do anything for you including holding four kids up at gunpoint to get back what they took from you.

“I want the laptop you took today. It was in a black leather bag with a keychain hanging off of it. There’s a picture of me and her on that keychain. Hand it over and I’ll consider not killing you.” Said Billy.

One of them wearing a red hoodie, moved slowly with his hands in the air and picked up your bag. He handed it to Billy, still pointing his gun at them, and moved back to join the other three.

“Which one of you pushed her to the ground?” He growled.

Silence.

“Tell me NOW!”

The kid in the red hoodie pointed to the guy next to him.

“He did.” He replied.

Billy moved closer and placed the barrel of the gun up against his eye.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet through your eye right now? Ya know she almost fell onto the track when you pushed her? DO YOU?!!!” Yelled Billy, right in that kid’s face.

Petrified, he said, “I’m sorry…” His voice sounded raspy like he needed a glass of water.

“Do you know what you would have taken away from me, if she didn’t make it home today?!!” Billy hissed.

Again, the young man repeated himself. “I’m sorry…”

Tears had streaked down all four of their cheeks and one of them actually wet himself.

Billy’s dark eyes shined like two flat black marbles as he pushed the gun harder against the young man’s eye.

“BEG me not to kill you. I wanna hear you beg for your lives…ALL of you.” Said Billy.

They all begged to live until they were red in the face. They were all sobbing.

They didn’t want to die tonight.

“ANY of you do something like this again, I WILL come back and kill you all. I will not think twice about it and I’ll sleep well knowing that you won’t be able to do this to anyone else ever again. DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND. ME?” Billy’s voice dropped and he was calm again.

They all nodded and Billy backed out of that room, holstered his weapon, and left.

With your bag slung over his shoulder he made his way home. He thought about how easily he could have killed them, four shots, four bullets to the skull without a second thought. But he gave them all a second chance; a chance to turn their life around away from crime.

It was a chance he had after leaving the group home, a chance to live, to work hard, to make friends and friends like family. But also a chance to find love.

And he was so grateful for all of those chances…hopefully they would be too.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @ittybxttykxttytxtty

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[underoospeterparker]

hi! Im not quite sure if your requests are open at the moment, but I was wondering if you could possibly write a Poly! Marauders x reader? Maybe where the reader talks a lot and is ignored by parents and friends of is yelled at often for small nervous habits they do unconsciously? You don't have to ofc!

Love ur work!!

hi guys! i've been inactive for a while, trying to focus on schoolwork and things, but now i have some time so i thought i would write something! i'm sorry if i didn't respond to any requests, ill try to get those done asap. thanks so much! love u guys<3

to anon: ofc! hope i did this one right:) i kind of did it more hurt/comfort cause you guys know i love my comfort trope<3 also if you didn't want it like this, don't hesitate to send me another req if this was too over the top with the hurt, or you didn't like the tropes:)

warnings: implied and referenced abuse, mention of sirius's past trauma & abuse, feeling not good enough, insecurity, shy!reader, introverted!reader, bruises, hurt/comfort, crying

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"(y/n!)" you snapped out of your daydream, blinking your eyes lazily as your focus adjusted to your surroundings. "ignoring us is not okay, (y/n). you need to tell us why you are behind in your classes. you're not doing good enough. we need you to stop getting distracted and focus on your work." your dad scolded you.

"argus, don't you think you're being a bit too rough on her?" your mother said quietly. "i'm sure she's doing her-"

"eleanor, don't interrupt me," your dad said quietly. that shut your mother up, and she said nothing else. you felt for her in that moment, being trapped in a relationship where she couldn't say anything, couldn't voice her own opinions because they would get shut down every single time.

it scared you to think of ever being in a marriage like theirs. because of your parents, you had trust issues, and you didn't think you could let anyone into your heart because of how your parents ended up.

they were high school sweethearts, fell in love at the young age of 16. as a kid, you would look through old boxes in cupboards, filled with old pictures of your mother and father at your age. it was crazy to think that they too fell in love, just like you.

but how their love ended up petrified you. how they thought their love would never end but it did, when you were born. you'd never seen your parents happy, let alone happy together.

playing with your fingers to try and distract yourself from the conversation you were having, you thought of your own relationship with your boyfriends. it was the complete opposite of your parents. they were comforting, respectful, caring and they always loved you no matter what.

your thoughts were interrupted by your father's voice. "for god's sake, stop fidgeting like that!" he yelled, and grabbed your wrists tightly, making you flinch. you could already feel the bruises forming.

"i'm sorry. i'll work harder," you murmured, eyes focused on the floor. you couldn't meet their eyes. you knew you were a disappointment to them. it just hurt too much to even look at them.

THE NEXT DAY

hogwarts was made for gifted witches and wizards. although you were relatively smart, you had to work really hard to get good grades, as opposed to some of your friends who barely studied and still managed to get exceptional grades. it infuriated you.

you had managed to convince two of your friends to help you study, as they were really good at astronomy.

at the library, you were excitedly telling your friends about a new book you were reading. you continued, a huge smile on your face, saying, "and so then, the she finally gets together with him, and it's just so dreamy and i-"

"oh my god, (y/n)! are you done?" your friend snapped at you. she looked extremely annoyed at you, and once you glanced at the clock you saw that you'd only been speaking for a few minutes. you didn't get why she had to be so annoyed with you. you didn't do anything wrong, did you?

your smile dissolved, and you quietly said, "yeah."

your friend then proceeded to tell you guys about her new relationship with cedric, who you didn't care about in the least. "i'm just gonna go up to the dormitories," you said quietly, excusing yourself. your friends didn't even notice your departure.

what kind of friends were they? they hurt your feelings, always making you feel worthless, just like your parents. your boyfriends had told you they were both wastes of time but you had ignored them.

'where are they, anyways?' you thought to yourself as you looked around for your boyfriends. you needed them right now. tears pooled behind your lash line as you thought about what had happened.

you felt almost guilty for wanting to see your boyfriends. you didn't want them to pity you, and so you went up to your dormitory, which was completely empty at this early hour. falling face flat onto your bed, you finally let your tears fall.

a few minutes later, you heard a knock at the door, then a soft, "baby? are you in there?" it sounded like james, and you sobbed quietly at his voice, at the comfort it brought you even without seeing him.

"c'mon, let us in," remus said through the door.

"please?" sirius chimed in. "if you don't, we'll feed you to the rats."

"pads!" james whisper-screamed. "why would you say that?"

you smiled. they could easily cheer you up, even just their voices.

you grabbed your wand off the bedside and undid the lock on the door. your boyfriends came bursting in, not expecting the sudden movement, and they caught sight of you on your bed.

"oh, sweetheart," rem said softly.

making his way over to you, he pulled you into his lap and your legs encircled his waist. you let your head fall into his chest and his hand came up to smooth your hair. "shhh," he cooed into your ear. "it's okay."

jamie was already on the other side of you, thumb stroking your palm, already warming you up. you winced slightly as his thumb pressed on your bruise from yesterday.

siri sat on the bed opposite you, and his eyes darkened protectively when he saw the bruises lining your wrists. "pup, what's this?"

for a second you were confused, then you realised what he was talking about. your eyes grew wide as you said, "it's nothing, siri, I promise." you knew about his past, you didn't want to bring it up and have him do something he would regret.

"no, sweetheart," sirius put a finger under your chin, tilting your head so your eyes could meet his. "who did this to you?"

your eyes filled with tears and the anger on his face softened, but he was still inquisitive. "dad," you mumbled under your breath. "but it wasn't his fault, i was being a brat, and-" your tears came back full force, and you whispered, "and i'm not good enough for them." you laughed wetly, then continued. "my friends ignore me. they probably think I'm stupid and useless. i don't deserve to be here. it's all my fault for being friends with them. it's my fault for not working hard enough for my parents."

the boys exchanged a look over your head. their princess, believing she wasn't good enough? well, they couldn't have that.

sirius lifted his hand from your chin to cup your cheek. you leaned against the warmth radiating from his palm, tears still silently flowing down your face. "it's not your fault," he murmured. "it's never your fault. please remember that, baby."

"you deserve everything and more," james said softly.

remus hugged you tightly against his chest. "don't let anyone ever tell you different, princess."

you cried into remus's sweater, letting out everything you'd felt the past few days. they let you cry, knowing it'd be useless to try and get you to stop. you needed a good cry.

"i'm so-"

"don't you dare apologise." sirius's eyes grew serious. "otherwise we're truly feeding you to the rats."

you giggled, hand coming up to wipe your tears but james did it for you himself. they really treated you like their princess.

"i love you guys," you mumbled, sniffling quietly.

their faces softened. "love you too, bug."

[mybworlds]

Bittersweet

CHAPTER 1

status: ongoing

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: your life is full of 'must'. You live with your overprotective mother who controls every aspect of your life. You have a dream, to write romance novels, but love - real love - you haven't found yet. Your mother has even decided what you must do in your free time: play music. One day, however, when you go to your music teacher's house, you will have an unexpected encounter and from that day on things change…

rating: 18+ explicit (minors, DNI)

Before to start... Hello people, I know there are other two ff that I already started, but I dreamt this new idea for my new ff. So I decided to write it down it. So here we are. If you want to let me know what you think about it I'd be glad to read you.

No offence pls, if you dislike it go away :)

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

You always dreamed of doing something special, of being the person who would make a difference in the world….

So you hoped.

You hoped to become a great writer of romance novels, and you hoped to instill hope in the hearts of young people not to give up in the face of love and the possible obstacles that may arise.

But not all dreams come true.

In fact, you ended up working in a small bar on the outskirts of your town, surrounded by the many stories of the many diners who populate the place during the daytime or evening hours--depending on the shifts. These stories are the most different, and cannot help but feed your wild imagination.

In the evening, when you are not on shift, you write dozens and dozens of stories on your computer: some are shorts, some are very long and have happy endings, some less. It depends on your mood and how you imagine certain events you've witnessed or heard will end.

"I'm home!"

Your mother has just returned from a nearly seventy-two-hour shift at the hospital, she works in emergency medicine, and - since your father died (or at least she always said) - when she's not at home, you have to do everything, housework and bar work, grocery shopping, paying bills.

"Hi, Mom."

You absentmindedly greet her by putting down your computer glasses and crinkling your eyes in exhaustion.

"Did you buy groceries?"

The usual string of questions starts, to which you always answer with a distracted yes. You are almost 30 years old, but sometimes you feel like you are 40s or even 50s. Sometimes you think you would just like to enjoy youth, to be carefree, light-hearted, you would like to be free even to make mistakes, and instead you feel caged in this life. In a life where the only rule is you must.

"So you're okay with that?" your mother suddenly asks, making you get your feet back on the ground.

"What?" you ask confused.

"You might even listen to me for once!" blurts out Mom.

"I just got distracted for a second!" you exclaim trying to catch up.

Mom snorts, "I asked you if you were free tomorrow for your guitar lesson."

Ah yes, the exhilarating guitar lessons!

Mom, ever since Dad left (but she always said it was as if he was dead), has demanded that you take piano lessons first and guitar lessons later, like your father. You can't understand your mother, sometimes she seems to hate your father, sometimes she doesn't.

About love, you've always wanted it to be forever. Maybe it's just some romantic bullshit you always watched in movies or read in books, but you want to believe that there really exists out there for you, someone who is willing to love you for a lifetime. Too bad you haven't found anyone so far who is willing to love you the same way you love, to want you the way you want!

Going back to your guitar lessons, your teacher is a bit of a peculiar guy, a bit of a loner, a lover of many things and one opposed to the other. He's -- you don't know exactly how to define him. You've never been able to decipher him. He seems gruff, but at the same time he has a good side and probably deep down sweet.

Very deep down.

"Yes, don't worry." Mom, ever since he left, has become overprotective in some ways with you, has demanded to control you even though you are not so young anymore, wants to know what you read, what you see, what you do. It may seem normal, perhaps, for a mom to try to get to know what her child does, but not the way she does. If you are evasive for one reason for another, she becomes a hound, suffocating almost. Once she even demanded to read a chat you created with friends fearing that you might be in touch with a man much older than you, and instead she found herself a chat where you were exchanging sometimes funny and sometimes even private messages with some of your close friends from school, which even embarrassed you, but mom justified herself by saying she was doing it for you. She even banned you from driving for fear that you might have a car accident! You have a driver's license, but your mother won't even let you drive around town. She always has to be the one to drive you. These manias of hers are suffocating!

"Good. Do you have money to pay for it?" she asks you.

"Yes, don't worry," you reply, going to prepare dinner.

"We have to be very punctual or I'll be late for the hospital," she informs you.

"Do you have another night?" you ask her "It will be the fifth time in a month! But didn't there used to be shifts once even in the hospital?" you ask again as you prepare some pasta.

"Yes, but -- you know, there are only a few of us and then there are even more emergencies than usual."

You follow your mother with your eyes as you see her typing on her cell phone. Your mother sometimes looks like the young woman and you look like the mom.

What an unfair life!

The next day your life flows as usual, you get up very early, make coffee bringing it also to your mother, go to shower, get dressed and go to work.

At the café there is the usual hustle and bustle, who wants coffee, who wants a croissant, who wants a slice of pizza, who wants something else. You don't have a moment to yourself. Only when it's almost lunchtime now, you stop and go to the back of the store to eat your sandwich and smoke. Yes, you smoke. The only real transgression in your life. If your mother found out she would probably kill you, but you don't care smoking makes you feel good and maybe it makes you feel good because it's a decision you made, not because it was forced on you.

You rub one temple and look toward the road covered with a hint of snow. You wonder what you would have been doing by now if you had not been there with your mother, if maybe you were busy in college or maybe in pursuing some master's degree, you wonder who you might have been if you had dared to live your life to the fullest.

In the afternoon, your mother - after making sure you are dressed appropriately, that you have sheet music and whatnot - drops you off in front of your teacher's building.

The latter lives on the top of seven floors, it's practically a penthouse, it's beautiful place. Being with him -- a little less so.

When you knock, you are about to greet him, but a completely different man from your teacher appears in front of you. He is tall, much taller than your teacher and you, curly brown hair, dark eyes, a look that is at first grim, then curious, defined jaw line and curved nose. He is perhaps 40 years old.

You stand open-mouthed, thinking you had the wrong house for a moment, then realizing it's the right address.

"I was looking for Mr. Miller," you say.

"In person." he replies.

"Tommy Miller," you say.

"I'm his brother." he says again.

You are about to say something, but he is the one who interrupts you by asking if you are his student and calling your name, you nod in confusion.

"My brother had to leave yesterday morning. He told me you were coming and to wait for you to let you know." he clarifies by placing his hands on his hips.

He is incredibly muscular; you have never seen a man like him. He hits you right away.

"I see. Then -- I'll go." ready to leave.

You make to turn your back to him "Did Mommy tell you not to talk to strangers?" he asks making you turn back to him "I saw you get out of your mother's car." he adds noticing your confused look.

"What did you say?" you ask in annoyance.

You see him smirking and cross his arms "Are you afraid the big bad wolf will eat you?"

You wrinkle your forehead "First, I don't even know who you are." you say moving a couple of steps closer to him "And second…"

"Joel." he introduces himself by extending his hand.

"You're creepy -- Joel," you say looking first at his hand and then at his face.

"You, on the other hand, are shy." he notes looking at you and running his gaze over your figure. No one has ever looked at you like this. Making your skin warmed. "Yes, you are a shy little one." he adds, smiling and making wrinkles appear on the sides of his eyes.

"Your brother is definitely nicer," you say.

Lie. Tommy has always been very much on his own.

He just bends his head to the side, "Funny, people always told me I'm the nice one of the Miller brothers."

Gotcha.

"Well, maybe they never really knew you!"

"And you in less than a minute figured out who am I?" he asks, leaving you speechless.

No, you know very well that you cannot judge anyone in less than a minute. If someone had judged you in less than a minute they probably would have dismissed you as an ordinary young woman, lacking dreams of her own, trivial.

Perhaps the same thing applies to the man in front of you, Joel Miller.

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Sunlight

Summary: A moment in time where you could've sworn that nothing ever could go any different between the two of you…

Pairing: Elijah Kamski x afab!Reader

Word Count: - 2.1k

Content Warnings: Fluffy PWP 18+!, Softdom!Elijah, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral (F Receiving), Edging, Slight Praise Kink, Begging, Implied Further Smut

A/N: I'm gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure 🥴 The Kamski brain rot has befallen me again! Massive thanks to @blueberrypancakesworld for motivating me in this endeavour 🫶🏻🖤

Follow-Up to Golden Cage but can be read as a standalone just as well.

Tagging: @spookyorchid @blueberrypancakesworld @herprivateisland

Each day, you'd rise with me

Know that I would gladly be

The Icarus to your certainty

Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

Strap the wing to me

Death trap clad happily

With wax melted, I'd meet the sea

Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

- Sunlight By Hozier

Around 5 years prior, on an early autumn Saturday morning, the time gradually moved closer to noon…

A quiet groan rolled over your tongue as you lazily opened your eyes just as much as necessary for your gaze to shoot a quick glance towards the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"Huh…" You noted, somewhat amused by the fact that it was nearly noon already.

"Hm?" A still halfway asleep Elijah behind you protested in a low hum as you turned around, tightly wrapped in his embrace.

"Good morning, sleepyhead.", You peppered the crown of his head with a wash of quick pecks, his cheek resting nuzzled against your collarbone, "I might as well start preparing lunch since we successfully slept through breakfast hours."

"Isn't that what the weekend is for?" Eli smiled against your skin, the stubble of his beard tickling gingerly.

For a brief moment, you tried to pull yourself out of his hug but quickly noted that Elijah had no intention of letting you go just yet.

"Nuh-Uh. Absolutely not.", He quipped, holding you down underneath the cozy cotton duvet covers right next to him, "Way too comfortable."

"Fair enough." A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gave in and led your fingertips to trace along his back, following the slight curve of his spine until they reached the nape of his neck.

"Hmhm…", Eli sighed contentedly, "Wanna stay in bed with you all day. No lab, no coding and no report writing today. Ordering in some food, maybe?"

"Please go on, Mr. Kamski, you have my attention.” The smile on your mouth turned into a smirk at his words whilst your fingers played with strands of his silken-straight hair.

“Well…”, It trickled from his lips in a sleepy chuckle, “May I propose a day of mindless leisure to Mrs. Kamski?”

“Hmhm, mindless leisure, you say?”, You clicked your tongue in a moment of play-pretend pondering, “I’m certainly not opposed to the idea.”

"Marvelous!" The halfway snorted-out cackle spilled from your lips faster than you could recognize.

"Marvelous?", You repeated Eli's exclamation, still snickering over it, "Alright, peepaw."

"Excuse me?" Elijah laughed out as well before leaning his head down a little further until his lips touched the curve of your breast to nip at the sensitive skin close to your nipple.

"Hey, don't you distract from that verbal atrocity!" It rolled right over your tongue as something in between a yelp and a choked-back sigh.

"Distraction? Nay, nay! I'm ready and willing to top that!", The words rumbled through Elijah’s chest in a chuckle, "My, my, how absolutely splendid for my lovely lady, my sun and my everything, to leisurely waste this day away with me."

"Oh, Jesus, fuck..", You groaned a little theatrically over the top, covering your face with both of your palms, "Time to switch to decaf because you gotta watch out for your blood pressure, gramps, maybe consider some Viagra, too."

"Ouch!", Eli mocked in return, his soft lips nibbling their path along the areola up to close down around your perked-up nipple.

His teeth, carefully scratching over the sensitive skin, sent urging jolts of rapidly rising arousal to shoot down amidst your thighs, the demanding pulse causing your hips to snap from the mattress in search of stimulation.

“Oh, c'mon, that's not fair.” You let your head loll back into the thick and feathery pillow as the sensation of his tongue swirling soft circles around your nipple fogged your mind, gradually chasing every coherent thought right out of it.

“I know, I know.” Elijah cooed in return, the warmth of his breath breezing over the damp patch of skin he left behind after letting the perked-up nub slide from between his lips again.

“Can't help myself but to get off on watching you go dumb with just the softest of touches, love.” The almost sore rasp in his tone went right through you as his words led you to clench your thighs together.

“You're such a sharp-witted and well-spoken menace at the lab but it all goes down the drain the second I touch you, doesn't it, babe?” You didn't need to see the sly grin on his face to know that it was there as his warm lips wandered back up over your collarbone until halting at your neck, kissing, nibbling and suckling at your flushed skin.

Instead of words, the only thing leaving your slightly trembling lips was a needy whine, a desperate mewl as you arched your back from the mattress, thighs still firmly pressed together to evoke just the tiniest bit of friction.

“Issok, babe, I'm gonna take care of that, don't worry.” Elijah hummed against your throat whilst nimble, slender fingers brushed along your hip bone, ready and eager to dip down between your legs.

“C'mon, want you to spread those beautiful legs for me, yeah? Wanna feel just how wet you are for me already, hm.” The tip of his nose nudged right against your pulse point playfully as you sensed a surge of heat wash over your face, somewhere between embarrassment and plain horny neediness that rendered you pliable to all his gentle demands.

A rush of heavy goosebumps erupted all over your skin as you gave in to the slight pull administered by the palm of his hand resting right at the curve of your thigh.

“There you go.”, Eli murmured in a soft tone, eager fingertips stroking the insides of your leg and creeping ever closer to where you needed him to touch you so desperately, “Good girl.”

“Please… it's too much, Eli, please!” You whimpered with a cracking, trembling voice, fighting yourself to not succumb to the need to simply jolt your hips forward harshly enough for Elijah’s fingers to inevitably touch your aching cunt.

“Uh-oh, need me to take care of that so bad, huh?”, He planted yet another kiss on your neck whilst his hand eventually slipped between your legs, fingertips parting your thoroughly soaked folds and gathering your arousal between them before stroking over your throbbing clit in slow circles, “Bet that feels better now, no?”

“Fuck…please, don't stop.” It rolled over your tongue in a breathless plea whilst your eyes fluttered shut at the sudden wave of electrifying pleasure spreading all throughout your body.

The sheere sensation of his index finger gingerly caressing you in carefully-paced strokes sent your mind reeling immediately as your muscles rendered warmer with every touch.

“I didn't plan on doing so anytime soon. Good god, you're fucking soaked, aren't you?” Elijah’s voice turned to a deep groan as he pressed his own body closer to yours, allowing you to feel just how much he needed to have you right now, too.

Wandering up from your neck, that was now peppered with countless little, purple-ish coloured hickey's, his teeth latched onto your jaw, scratching over your skin in a certain animalistic way that rushed straight down to your lower abdomen again, causing you to moan out into the bedroom which got gradually enlightened with the warm, early-afternoon sun. Not only was the warmth outside the windows rising but the heat spreading between your thighs just as well. It didn't take much for it to feel like eating you straight up, to burn you whole from the inside out and to completely overstimulate your senses. You're almost already sore nerve endings begged for Elijah’s gentle caress to push you past the threshold, to let the tightening coil in your stomach eventually snap but with the ever so tenderly paced flicks of his finger he held you right at the breaking point, kept your body balancing right on the edge until it rendered you stupid.

“Please, I'm so close, pretty please!” The desperate and impatient whine slipped past your lips as the muscles of your thighs started trembling.

“Nuh-Uh… calm yourself.” He shushed, a growing grin playing around his mouth as he withdrew his slick-covered finger from your pulsing clit and instead curled his entire palm to cup your cunt that was clenching and throbbing mercilessly around nothing.

“No, no, please. You said you wouldn't stop, please!” As the feeling of immediate stimulation ebbed away, you sensed frustration rising within your chest and struggled to hold back a downright pathetic sob that wanted to break its way free.

“Oh, babe, I'm not stopping…just pausing a little because I need you to calm down a bit. Don't want you to just cum on my fingers already, no.”, Elijah’s nose stroke along your cheek whilst his lips brushed towards your earlobe, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver, “I'd much rather taste you, love, feel you gushing all over my face.”

Just the mere thought of it and the way those words practically oozed out of his mouth like they weren't pure filth had you nearly choking on your own, already shallow breaths. You were desperate to hold yourself together, at least for a moment, whilst opening your eyes to Elijah shifting downward on the mattress, his mouth leaving a trail of quick kisses until he buried his face in your lap, a deep groan rumbling through his chest as his tongue darted out past his lips to lap at you like a man parched.

You felt the tip of his tongue gliding through your folds at ease, parting them until it softly nudged at your clit. With half-lidded eyes you watched him devour you, your gaze glued to the sight of messy strands of his hair slipping out from his loose ponytail, framing his face in a shade of blonde that appeared to be golden in the warm light beaming in from past the curtains.

“Fuck…” It fell from your tongue as you managed to lean your upper body onto your elbows for a better view because in the very second you moved and shifted, Eli closed his lips around your pulsing clit and started gingerly suckling, nearly forcing you to halt right there and then again.

It took everything in you to not just slump back into the pillows again, instead, you bit down on your bottom lip whilst pulling your thighs closer to your body. Elijah took the hint right away and hoisted your legs onto his shoulders, palms and fingers grasping around your thighs to keep you in place nice and tight whilst his mouth never paused pleasuring you.

He didn't need to apply anything besides the gentle, careful suction paired with tender flicks of the tip of his tongue for you to come close again, for the tension in your lower abdomen to tighten up anew. This time, you just silently begged for him not to pause, not to stop.

There was no doubt that Eli was aware of the way your thighs started trembling again, how you moaned out in steadily raising arousal as you felt the wetness oozing out of you and to your relief, he kept going, his tongue toying with your clit, stroking and nudging it, knowing how to get you off properly.

“ ‘M gonna…” You tried to utter, the words haphazardly passing your lips before one more tender lick of his pushed you past the threshold and sent your nerve endings into overdrive.

It felt like fireworks going off inside of your body with the muscles of your lower abdomen spasming in wave after heavy wave. The orgasmic epitome went straight to your head, eradicating everything for a split second before the pleasantly brutal, nearly numbing rush of hormones took over; serotonin and oxytocin jolting through your body like an electric current which eventually led you to fall back into the pillows underneath.

“There, there…”, Elijah smirked whilst shoving himself up back to you for his glistening lips to hover closely above yours, “How about we order some pizza now and I sit you down on my lap while correcting you on that gnarly comment about Viagra, huh?”

[shuinami]

Part 3: How to write an MLE-based London accent authentically

Part 1: Who, What (London Accents) | Part 2: When, Where, Why (Black Londoner Culture since Windrush)

As I conclude this little guide, I'd like mention that my ask box and DMs are always open if anyone has further questions or anything 🤎

In this section, I'll go over some advice, the grammar and vocabulary and provide some suggestions for references.

Section A: Basic Tips

When to use slang

The concentration of slang is key to differentiating characters as well as writing an accent authentically. As an MLE-based speaker who is not actually a roadman (meaning a gangster, though many people misuse the term to refer to anyone who uses MLE, especially if they are working class), like most of us, Hobie does not utterly kill it with slang that would likely not be understandable to the people he’s with. There are a lot of phrases and idioms/metaphors that seem self-explanatory once you know what they mean or that seem similar to Americanisms (e.g. roadman = street/hood nigga), but of course, as someone who doesn’t use the terms, hearing it in passing, it probably wouldn’t be understandable, despite the speaker thinking it is. 

Coming from a diverse place, often with immigrant parents who don’t even speak English as a first language, if fluently at all (not in the case of most black Caribbeans from former British colonies, but remember Asians and Africans are more plentiful here), trust me, we know what we sound like 😂! Most of us code-switch, as we learn standard English in school and, until more recently, where more people are 3rd gen+ immigrants as opposed to 2nd, we actually tend to pick up MLE slang from experiences outside the home as we grow up. At the same time, some people really don’t care at all and don’t change how they speak for anyone haha. I don’t recommend trying to write code-switching if you’re not extremely familiar with MLE because you’ll probably lose the flow and also, Hobie only eases up a little bit after his intro.

My point is though, that not every single sentence needs to have slang in it. Most should, but if you’re trying to be serious or sexy, for example, and you feel the need to tack on some slang just to convey Bri’ishness, even if it doesn’t really fit, don’t do it cause it’s no more authentic than just writing plain English in those scenarios.

When talking to people from his own dimension, however, slang it up if you’d like, because the expectation would be that a (working class or ethnic) Londoner would understand him. 

For humour, mocking and teasing, we love to use slang because a lot of it is funny, even to us. Like I said, we know what we sound like. Those are the moments when more obscure slang (such as Cockney rhyming slang) might come out for comedic effect.

It’s good to have some balance, so not every word needs to be substituted. If you couldn’t read it without a fucking huge glossary, you’ve probably done a bit too much.

Writing the Accent

It’s good in moderation. ‘Luv’, ‘ain’t’, replacing the last g with an apostrophe in -ing words - you all have those things down, it works, good job. 

HOWEVER, it is very clear that a lot of you have no clue what letters we do and don’t drop/change and in what words, as well as a lot of you going OT with removing the T’s from the middle of words. I know it kind of sounds like that to you but it reads like an over-exaggeration or mockery, particularly because most London accents, including Hobie’s, are much lighter in comparison to Brits from other areas, in which such omissions and alterations of letters would be somewhat appropriate but still, in moderation. I don’t recommend typing out the accent often, just sprinkle it around for a bit of flavour but don’t consistently write in that way because your writing loses legibility and it gets quite distracting.

Content

The stereotype of British people liking sarcasm is true for most and, in general, we like to have, what we call, ‘a bit of banter’. We’re a jokey people, even if those jokes can be a bit harsh or teasing. Confusingly, even if we are joking around, it doesn’t mean necessarily we’re being friendly, joking is just how we communicate (e.g. “Oh boy, humbling reality Spider-Man has arrived”, “What does that do?” “Apart from having a great name?”, “super humane and not creepy”, “this is a great look…”). I think most people have got this down really well, so keep it up guys 😎🤙

Another thing is cussing, swearing, profanity, whatever you wanna call it. We do it a lot for no reason, mainly spamming the word “fuck(ing)”. So have fun with that if you aren’t already.

We’ll get into it more in the terms of endearment section of Section B but, basically a lot of Londoners are typically not too mushy or affectionate, as is the stereotype for big city people and, additionally, British people in general aren’t the most direct in their words. Obviously, some people are but it’s not the culture if you’re trying to write proper ‘authentic’ haha. For a lot of us, saying sweet stuff can be quite laborious when sincere or cheesy or confrontational levels of direct really 😂 We ain’t the friendliest of types through our words so I'd recommend relying more on context for the sweet factor unless it's a stand-out moment.

Different parts of the UK, even within England itself, have different slang

Idk what else to say about this but yeah, there’s some phrases I’ve seen people use that have me scratching my head cause “nobody [from my area] says those words in that order” but I’m guessing it’s down to people incorporating slang which is more commonly heard up North because it’s all classed as British/U.K. slang when you look it up so, just be wary of that.

Section B: Grammar and Vocab (the thing you’ve been waiting for 😂)

I’ll link a document here so I don’t clog up your dash more than I already have. Feel free to bookmark it or anything, I’ll update it if needed. The contents are links to the relevant section so you can just click those if you’re not trying to read the whole thing.

I only included some highlights of the things that are easy enough to explain just by writing them out with their meanings but it’s by no means an extensive list. I’ve studied a few languages but I’m not a linguist so I just did my best.

If you want to go more heavy with the Cockney slang, I’ll leave it to someone who’s more familiar with it (or not… lol) to explain those terms and when to use them properly.

Section C: References

Of course, it’s all good and all that I’ve given you instructions but to make it sound natural, you’d need a point of reference. Here are some references of black North West Londoners from the early 80s, black East Londoners, black Londoners more generally and a Daniel Kaluuya interview so you can get a better feel of how we sound:

Clip from ‘No Problem’, the first Black British Sitcom

The accents within this one group of siblings is very varied and none of them use MLE, as per the time period. The two younger sisters have accents most similar to Hobie’s. The show follows a group of siblings of Jamaican descent living in a council house in North West London, first released in 1983.

Clips from ‘Chewing Gum’ by Michaela Coel [CW: they're awkwardly talking about sex in a lot of the clips + don't listen to Candice's boyfriend, Aaron, he's not from London lol]

The show takes place in Tower Hamlets, which is in East London and was first released in 2015. Tracy has a similar accent to Hobie and also uses a mix of more general/Cockney-influenced slang and MLE, so this one should both be a fun watch and be useful, you’ll also want to pay attention to Candice who has a more MLE lean to her speech.

Clips from the Foot Asylum crew most of them are MLE speakers, see some examples of our banter with friends lol

Clips from ‘Top Boy’

Another show that takes place in East London, this time in Hackney, which is an area known for being kind of rough in terms of gang activity. Almost all the characters speak exclusively MLE in this show. If you want to watch it, TW for violence and gang activity, death, etc. (18+). You can tell based on the ones I’ve chosen that Sully’s my favourite character lmao.

Fun fact, as you might hear the character, Dushane, reference, Sully lives on a canal boat for a while as a form of refuge. I know a bit about boat dwellers in London from a lecture at uni but if anyone wants me to do more research and do a post and explain the waterways and stuff, again, feel free to drop an ask and I’ll do it :)

Clip from ‘Love Island’ just pay attention to the black islanders, Tyrique and Whitney

I just finished watching this year's Love Island UK so I thought I’d throw the clip of Whitney, Lochan and Tyrique fighting in here lmao

& Daniel Kaluuya talking about Spiderpunk to bring us full circle✨

[rubyfoxfyre]

What did you base Alastors Nox Magia off of? Why type of magic is it and where did you get the ideas for a good ass fanfic?

Thank you for the question!

The answer is sort of a long story that I suppose begins with my first exposure to Hazbin Hotel in general, during a particularly doomed D&D campaign where my character basically acted exactly like Charlie did in the pilot:

Granted, Fianna is not anything like Charlie at all, but the DM found it funny enough to send me the gif above and then everyone got distracted for about 5 minutes while they started meming.

The next day I watched the show and was completely hooked!

I started looking into the Wiki to get a greater understanding of the world shown, read the comics (like all 20 pages hahaha), and listened to Addict while working on prompts for Charlastor Week 2022, taking a break from my regular manuscript I'd been working on for a few years (stay tuned for updates soon on that one!). I had about a month so I decided to try my hand at smaller short stories, since some of the authors I idolize are so good at short fiction, and conveying strong emotions in just a few thousand words.

I watched and rewatched the Pilot, studying the characterizations there as well as thinking about funny and unexpected scenarios the characters could get into while dealing with the concept of redemption and how to make it work (needless to say that the fact that they already had it happen was... unexpected. I have thoughts on that but will put a pin in that for now to avoid getting too distracted from your question!).

I can't remember which rewatch it was that I picked up on an interesting exchange between Charlie and Alastor that turned into a whole mess that would consume me to this day:

She tries to put a limitation on his ability to do too much, and I wondered if that could lead to a sort of interesting power-play between them (because in the end this is the part of their relationship that is fundamentally interesting - they're both powerful people with opposing moralities, having to work together to acheive a common goal). Basically, because Charlie's not precise with her language, she ends up basically not controlling Alastor at all. Which works out in its way, because she hides from her deeper wellspring of power with the aid of a gentle persona.

I liked the idea of something deeper between them and within themselves - and with them being opposing forces, I wanted to work with the idea of Alastor being associated with "night" and "dark", versus Charlie being associated with "sunlight" and "rainbows".

Shadow and Flame, only a bit less Lord of the Rings and a bit more sexy.

Nox Magia , the "night" magic, follows basic arcane principles that I've picked up on through the long and involved process of being a massive nerd and reading a lot of stuff.

For writing magic, I like looking at basic logic structures and hovering somewhere between harder and softer magic. My other manuscript that is premiering this year will be discussing some differing types of magic systems as well, if you enjoy reading Riddle and my other works, I hope you enjoy those as well!

But as for the story itself, it wasn't meant to be a story about a man falling in love... it's the story of a man being dragged into love, kicking and screaming about it. 🦌🌈

To Alastor the Hotel is about control, and his experience there is just a game not to be taken too seriously. Charlie is also about control, or rather, trying to find a way to control without breaking everything with her terrible strength.

Alastor embraces his strength, while she hides from it, and he finds that contradictory instinct in her interesting, so he comes up with the idea of a game to teach her some magic that might help her. But as with all magic, intent governs everything (even when you don't realize), and the spells he's teaching are telling a particular kind of story - you can preview what's happening in the chapter titles that have the runes' names! 🍷

❤️ Thanks so much for reading! ❤️

[bestworstcase]

One thing that I've not been keen on in hindsight, is just how much what you call "pop writing advice" is not that helpful to me. Or how they get used by people in critique.

Because most of them tends to be exceptionally vague borderline nothing bits. Like a series having "good dialogue" or "bad dialogue", and unless it's the most incredibly obvious lowest common denominator kind of thing that anyone who listens could tell is bad dialogue, it's never properly elaborated on.

For example, they describe good dialogue as "witty, subtle, etc" or something else. Like okay, can you tell me what that even constitutes as? Any examples you want to provide? Is witty supposed to be two characters bantering with each other with MCU styled dialogue, or is it something else entirely? Is your definition of good dialogue supposed to just be empty snark that you jingle in front of people like keys while being devoid of any actual value? What is bad dialogue then; something you consider boring or you just not caring for that particular style of writing? Give me context dammit!

Like, maybe my mind just latches onto the weird things, but I'm always left with more questions than answers because of these kinds of advice and critiques, because there's never anything concrete to work with. Just a vague nothingburger that I'm expected to dissect without any clear context as to WHAT I'm supposed to get out of it.

mmmmhm. in general pop writing advice tends to approach stories as a product you intend to sell as widely as possible as opposed to, like, art, and when it's about dialogue or plot structure it often presumes a target audience of indifferently distractible readers/viewers who need to be spoonfed witticisms and action to get them to stick with a story. which is frankly insulting to readers and viewers as well as to writers.

anyway. i don't know if you were trying to fish for this but here's some actual advice, or at least how i think about some things:

dialogue -> what characters do not say is often just as important as what they do. if the character in question is lying or an unreliable narrator or otherwise untrustworthy, what they don't say is more important than what they do. it's almost always worth thinking about what a character might hold back in a conversation, and the things they might circumlocute around, and why. even scrupulously honest people can be forgetful, and nobody can say everything that's on their mind all the time.

dialogue -> is characterization. how a character speaks is one of the single most effective ways to make characters feel distinct from one another; if everyone sounds the same it's much harder for the reader to keep track of who is who. rhythm is everything. you can slow a character's speech down by using fewer contractions and using 'longer' syntax (not necessarily longer words, but longer sounds; 'moment' is a longer word than 'minute' because of the vowel sounds) and longer sentences; or speed it up with the reverse. no contractions at all can make a character sound stilted, overly formal, or very careful depending upon rhythm. try reading dialogue out loud to figure out the natural cadence of the words.

characterization -> i swear by this

plot -> is what happens when the circumstances of the world interact with character choices. 'deus ex machina' (and 'diablus ex machina') are not bad per se; the trick is to prepare the audience ahead of time by subtly establishing the possibility of such an intervention. the term deus ex machina derives from a convention of ancient greek theater, wherein divine intervention was a regular an unremarkable feature. to the audience of these plays, the sudden appearance of a god at the end of the story would not have felt abrupt or random because the gods were intricately intertwined with and present in day-to-day life.

thus, when translating this device into a story for modern audiences, it's important to develop a similar sense of immediacy and presence. deus/diablus ex machina is unexpected (so you don't foreshadow it) but should be explicable (so the audience already knows this kind of thing can happen) and ideally thematically cogent. i find that it's helpful to think of the world itself as a sort of 'character' participating in the plot in the same way the actual characters do.

theme -> think about theme the way visual artists think about color palette and cohesion. theme is what binds the story together into a unified whole. what purpose does a character's arc serve to the greater narrative? how does it rhyme with other parts of the story—or if it doesn't, is there a reason for breaking the pattern? do all the pieces fit together in a coherent way? you don't need to have an Idea or a Statement or a Concept necessarily, though it is helpful to be able to say in very broad terms what a story is "about" thematically, e.g. bitter snow is about liberation. because that gives you something concrete that you can use as a reference when thinking about what a character's arc is about and whether it fits or not.

[nerdallwritey]

✨ writing interview tag game!!! ✨

Gonna go ahead and thank @busy-baker and @khywren for tagging me :) I'm very late to filling this out, but I wanted to really dedicate some attention to it!

I'm a yapper, I apologize in advance.

When did you start writing?

I started writing when I was in elementary school, I think. I know my fourth grade yearbook said I wanted to be an author when I grew up, and that's only KIND OF changed, I still want to write for a living, but for TV instead of novels (though I'm not opposed to that, should I ever have the right idea for one). I remember going to my friend's house after school all that time and using her mom's laptop to open a blank Word doc and just start writing. We wrote tons of stuff that we never finished, but I'd give ANYTHING to read some of it again, if only for a laugh. The only story I remember was about four teens being stranded on an island - we called it "Castaway." No clue what became of that, but our main characters were always based on ourselves 😂 I didn't start writing fanfiction until 2022 and only started posting this past June!

Are there different themes or genres that you enjoy reading than what you write?

Hmm, that's a good question. I typically stick with what I like - romance, fantasy, silly - but it's fun to throw nonfiction in there every once in a while. Not sure how well I'd do at writing non-fiction without embellishing or getting narrative (even though I like reading those kinds of books as well). But yeah, usually I like to stick with what I know and enjoy most! It's also the best way to learn and improve; by reading a ton within the genre you love to write.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't......think so? I've always been told by English teachers and professors that I have a very strong voice in my writing, which I always interpreted as being unique. As corny as it sounds, I'm not trying to sound like anyone but myself. At the end of the day, I'm writing for my own enjoyment and am happy you guys found me along the way!

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I don't have a dedicated writing space, but I often find myself writing either on my couch or in bed. Weirdly (or not that weirdly, considering most of us have day jobs) I write the best at night and I have to be alone so that I'm not distracted. Usually I'll find a song and play that on repeat while I'm writing (For Cheeks All Flushed, it was Resolve (Dark) from Fire Emblem Fates, and for Awfully Fond of You it was Climactic Return from Danganronpa 2). The music typically has nothing to do with the vibe of what I'm writing, I just need some sort of constant noise that won't distract me, hence why it's usually video game music with no words.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

That's tough. The first idea I published on tumblr was the result of me making myself laugh when I was trying to fall asleep (If EYE were being propositioned by Astarion, my ass would probably be like "wait, what? Me? ME?! Why?"), but the others I've posted have come from just seeing where my brain takes me as I'm writing, known as the "flying by the seat of your pants" method. I have a pretty good sense of these characters by now so I think I know what they'd be up to at this point. Outside of fanfiction, it's really tough - I'll start with a small idea and then keep sitting on it until it's something I think I can write down. I'm definitely more of a planner when it comes to stuff outside of fics 😅 I guess my short answer is: No idea. It just happens. Someone please help me.

are there any recurring themes in your writing? do they surprise you?

OHHH this is gonna say a lot about me, but something I've noticed in my original scripts and even my first fic is that most of the time, my main character is deeply lonely (I'M FINE GUYS, I'm surrounded by friends and loved ones but I have Some Trauma there). It doesn't really surprise me, considering I know WHY I've felt those things, but it's still like.......yikes. Lol. Also humor. Gotta laugh it off, right? RIGHT?

what is your reason for writing?

To be honest, it's a good outlet for me. I went to school for screenwriting and my goal has always been to make people laugh and bring them joy - It's always been that way. I think if I weren't able to get my thoughts and feelings out on paper every once in a while, I might explode. It's also just fun and I like doing it! Piggybacking off of what Khy said in their post, BG3 has been a HUGE outlet for me creatively. The game is full and beautiful and complex, but there are still gaps that I want to fill in and roads I want to explore. What would happen if the player were given THIS option? How would this character react to THIS situation? It's been a blast and I've never felt this way in a fandom before. It's awesome!

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

ANY comment makes my day. The fact that you took the time to read and put thoughts together to let me know how you felt about it is HUGE! It's such a good confidence boost (I second guess myself A LOT) and it always lifts my mood no matter where I am. I always love when people agree with my interpretation of Astarion's idiot tendencies 😂

how do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Hopefully as someone approachable. I'm a big dumb dummy and I love to chat/fan girl. If I can be someone to brighten their day with something silly that I wrote, that's all I need :)

what do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Definitely my banter. I've always been a fan of quick snappy quips and have experience in sketch writing/performing improv, so it comes very easily for me when I need it to. I make myself laugh with it, so it's always really nice to hear that others like it too.

how do you feel about your own writing?

I really started writing as a way of entertaining myself, so the fact that it's able to entertain others is GREAT, but I am very self conscious about it at the same time. I know my interpretation of Astarion is goofier than most, I know I rely heavily on dialogue rather than scene descriptions and inner monologues, and I get very in my head about those things. My stuff has found its proper audience and I'm very grateful for that, but there's always the nagging thought of "this could be better," or "they wouldn't say this," etc etc. That's something I'll likely always struggle with. BUT! I always have fun when I'm writing and hopefully that comes through. I've become less of a perfectionist after posting my first fic, that's for sure.

when you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Aside from requests, where I'm trying very hard to make sure I get whatever it is right for the person who requested it, I'm usually writing for myself. I'm definitely writing what I think will be enjoyable, but it's usually what I personally would like to read. That's what I've been taught! Write what you know and write what you want to read! I'm so unbelievably grateful that you guys find it entertaining as well. My fave thing to do is slip inside jokes in for myself/my beta (calling Astarion "ass," turning to someone and saying "did you know those people?" after talking to a group of people you know very well, etc etc).

No pressure tagging: @maladaptive-menace, and @arzen9 (I know you're not a fic writer, but still!) - I think everyone else I know has been tagged 😅

[loohser]

Distraction; Bella Ramsey x Reader My time posting on tumblr sooooooo just know it’s not perfect hahaha. Just know that I tried!!! ALSO I’m sorry if it leaves you hanging. It’s because I don’t know how to write smut! I will be doing some research on that and by that I mean I will be reading some smut of other authors. Enjoy!

Having a partner is amazing. But having a partner who is famous is kind of a struggle. Bella has been through a lot this past year and I’ve noticed that they’ve been very hard on themselves. Like right now, they seem to be reading an article about themselves on their phone. With all the sighing they’re making it must not be a very good one.

“Babes, what are you doing? You’re making me nervous with all this sighing.” I put their phone down and sat on their lap.

“I know I know, reading articles about me isn’t helping my mental state but I just get so curious, love.” They put both of their hands on my waist.

I hum while giving them a kiss on their forehead. “Okay, how about I give you something else to pay attention to huh? Shall I get naked?” I say while smirking. I then put my hands on their shoulders. They toss their head back while letting out a small chuckle. “You have absolutely no shame huh? My lover seems to have lost their mind. But I wouldn’t be opposed to such an idea.” I roll my eyes, “I just love when you act mean with me.” I pull off my shirt in one swift movement. Now I’m left with my favorite black lacy bra. Something that Bella chose for me when we went on our first shopping trip together. Their hands instantly went to my breasts. I hum while resting my forehead against theirs. Feeling the cool metal of their rings always lights a fire inside me.

“You know you are doing a phenomenal job at distracting me. I almost forgot what I was doing before you started acting up.” They roughly started to squeeze and grope my breasts. I sucked in air and let out a moan. “Almost? So you mean to say you're still thinking about it? Cmon babes, focus on me.” I start grinding in their lap. They put their head back and let out a moan. They pushed my bra down and started to suck on my left nipple. They pulled back with a soft pop, “Don’t start something you can’t finish love.” They started to buck their hips into mine. We created a delicious rhythm together. “Bella please, I need more.” I said while panting. They smirked, “Tell me what you need yeah? My fingers? My mouth? Be direct, you should know better.”

“Cmon, get up.” They tapped their fingers twice against my thigh. I whined, “Bella, we’re just getting started.” I puffed out my bottom lip. “Stop whining or you're not getting anything else from me. I want to move this to the bed. Don’t you?” They looked me sternly in the eyes. I gave them a kiss. “It’s about time. I almost came on your thigh.” I huffed. “That wouldn't have been so bad now would it?” They asked me. I got up from their thighs and held out my hand towards them. They grabbed my hand and slapped my backside before they led me to the bedroom. “Hey! That hurt.” I jokingly said. They looked around the bedroom, “Who are you lying to? I know you better than you know yourself.” They let out a laugh. I rolled my eyes, “Whatever Bells, lay down so I can make you feel better.” I push them down on the bed. They fall back on the bed with a laugh. I grind my hips against theirs. “Now, where were we?”

[yaimlight]

Would you still be willing to write the sequel of the Time Traveler’s Boyfriend showcasing future Katsuki’s POV? I just finished the fanfic on Ao3 today and I was left literally going through all of the emotions; sobbing, laughing, giddily smiling and everything in between. I would love to read more of Bakugo and Reader’s beautiful and heartwarming future relationship. After all, they both deserve happiness after everything they’ve been through. 🥹

I’m glad you enjoyed it. The whole process was a rollercoaster for me and one of my biggest worries was I was going to mess up all the different emotions and how they effected the story and characters. So the fact you felt all that makes me stupidly happy because it means I didn’t mess up. So, thank you for sharing that.

In regards to a follow up I am more then willing, in fact I have an outline done and everything. The problem I seem to having is that I am getting distracted by a bajillion other ideas and because I’ve technically already told this story once it kind of gets moved to the bottom of my list. I do want to explore it though, see how all this affects Katsuki’s and reader-chains relationship in the future because we all know it’s going to and maybe not in a good way to start with.

Maybe one day I’ll finish it but till then here’s a little something something just for you.

Katsuki clenched his jaw, his patience quickly disappearing as Izuku carried to prattle on about everything other then what he had asked him. “Shut it nerd,” Katsuki finally snapped, the line going silent instantly. “Erm sorry Kacc…” Katsuki’s quick to cut Izuku off before he can start rambling again. “Just, is Y/N still there or not?” Silence is the only answer he gets, the damned nothingness stretching on a beat to long to be comfortable and that feeling of dread ye had been feeling since the fight yesterday cam back tenfold, making his stomach twist painfully. “She left hours ago,” Izuku finally said and Katsuki swears his heart stopped. Just for a second.

“Kacchan, what’s wrong? Do you need me to put an alert out?” Katsuki barely hears Izuku on the other end of the line, the faint sound of papers shuffling and an office door being thrown open. His mind is already elsewhere, eyes darting around the apartment for any signs of a struggle. There’s nothing though, everything where it had been that morning when he had left for the agency. The only thing out of the ordinary had been that the apartment door had been unlocked, the security alarm disabled using your code. You had been there, had to of been but then it was like you had disappeared in the blink of eye. Gone before you could even take those stupid Ground Zero high tops off that you were so opposed with.

Something clicks in Katsuki’s head then, remembering what you had been wearing when he had last seen you. Leaning against his office door you had looked so sure of yourself, practically a walking advert for him with one of his tank tops from his hero uniform and those stupid Ground Zero high tops, the black jeans doing nothing to break up the hero merch heavy outfit. He should have realised then what was about to happen but he had seen you in that same outfit so many times over the last year that he had grown careless, not forgetting what was coming but forgetting what signs he was supposed to be looking out for. How could he have been so stupid? Of course it would be now, when he was at his happiest, that everything would go to shit.

As if in cue there came a loud pop from behind him, like a bubble being burst. Katsuki swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, his grip tightening momentarily on his phone. “Gotta go,” Katsuki mumbled, hanging up on Izuku’s worried demands to know what was happening. He let the phone fall forgotten to the couch, his eyes fixed on the dark screen of the television in front of him. Katsuki could just about make you out, stood in the middle of the living room and your hands pressed over your mouth. Exactly as you had been the first time you had left him, confused and alone in his apartment and thinking he was going crazy. He wasn’t ready for this, didn’t think he ever would be because now that it had he knew he was on a timer, the clock counting down till he would be left bloody and clutching desperately at your dying body.

Katsuki screwed his eyes shut, turning his head to the side and trying push back the images that flooded his mind. The ones that still kept him up at night sometimes and left him clutching at you like you would disappear if he let go. Katsuki sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly in an attempt to keep his mounting panic at bay. He had known this day would come, had spent hours with his therapist and Eijiro going over how best to handle it but talking hadn’t really prepared him for the reality of it. You had barely given anything away before, making sure to keep information about now as scarce as possible. He had no clue what he had told you but clearly it hadn’t been everything, the version of him who had already been through this keeping things to himself for reasons Katsuki didn’t know. Had it been for your safety? For his? Maybe it had just been because he hadn’t done it before so he had done the same. What if he did tell you everything, what would happen then? Maybe if he was honest with you from the start then past him wouldn’t have to go through thinking you had died in his arms. Maybe then Katsuki wouldn’t be haunted by it every time he hears you had been hurt.

“Katsuki.” He flinched at the small and confused call of his name, his eyes squeezing closed even tighter. He doesn’t want to do this but he knows he has to, that it’s his responsibility as the one who had already been through this to explain things and answer the questions you would undoubtedly have. Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders Katsuki took one last deep breath, reminding himself that he had already done this once before so he could damned we’ll do it again. Finally, feeling some semblance of capable, Katsuki turned to look at you and regretted the moment he laid eyes on you.

[mslanna]

"Raphael did not care if other devils were close enough to hear his roar. Pain and defiance mingled and promised death to those who caused Tav’s demise. They would not be safe anywhere. He would hunt them and he would find them and their anguish would be eternal as his.

Air full of ash and dust raked through his lungs to replenish his scream. The whole hells deserved to hear it and fear the repercussions."

Now I'm just imagining whoever cast the spell on Raphael hearing this and being all, 'Oh, no! Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! I've made a huge mistake!' Maybe whoever was commanding the opposing army also realizes just how doomed they are and actually offers to hand over the one responsible for the spell in exchange for a truce or alliance.

Anywho, thank you for writing "Come Back to Me", I'm gonna go reread it again.

Dear Nonny,

I think those devils are truly fucked. 😏 And - I had a lil idea... It's kinda a continuation of Come Back To Me, but it also works on its own

Raphael PoV, they!Tav mention torture, explicit in detail torture I mean it Read it here on AO3

Pleasurable Pain

It was a beautiful day in the hells and Raphael enjoyed a lovely spot of torture. Word did not get around that if you tried to lay hands on Tav, the verdict was suffering eternal. He made sure of that. Devils and mercenaries on this quest vanished under credible circumstances. Dead. Deserted. Destroyed for their failure.

The recreational dungeon was a hell he had designed especially for these offenders. A place of contemplative pain and experimental procedures. They kept each other company in agony, a reminder for those who recuperated that their lot held so much more pain. The smell of desperation hung heavy in the room, even heavier than that of blood and excrement.

The soft drizzle of water emphasised the hopelessness of it all. Water from his healing pool. The only drink these poor souls got. If they were good and braved their pain. A reward so they could play again.

It wasn't all exalted craft. Days like this one, Raphael looked for simple distraction. Howling screams and tears of blood would do nicely. He scrutinised the body spread on a metal cross before him. The bars holding the pit fiend up looked fragile but magic enforced them well enough. Infernal chains held the imposing figure in place with most of his body available to pain.

Raphael walked around his chosen for the day slowly. What to do? His mind was on other problems, so something simple. A precise incision on the back maybe, to pull out a muscle or even the stomach for further entertainment. Tav had brought most interesting poisons and sharp-edged objects from their last travel.

They knew he had a liking for those, though Tav never asked, what he did with them. They tolerated his devil nature, but disliked being present for this kind of nourishing sessions. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn't prefer a companion that not only accepted but joyfully participated.

Still, Tav wouldn't be his little mouse if they relished in recreational violence. It was sweeter to have them, to have seduced them into the darkness, while their light still shone brightly.

So, stomach it would be. For starters. Raphael picked up a small vial of dark amber toxin. The effect was not strong per se, but the body's reaction should be long and painful. From another shelf, he chose a multifaceted stone that broke the light into a rainbow over its many sharp edges. He coated it careful in the new poison that was delightfully sticky.

For the incision, the devil chose a sharp scalpel that caused little pain. He slipped his claws into the red flesh almost tenderly, grazing muscle tissue and organs on their way through the body. For this kind of adventure, pit fiends were delectably big. He could plunge his whole arm into their guts and barely reach the belly.

There was only a muffled groan and a sharp gasp. Pain, as everything else, lost its edge over time. It didn't matter. There was always more. His creativity knew no bounds. His fingers finally closed around the stomach and pulled it back towards the cut. The pit fiend gurgled but did his best to stay silent.

His stomach was tiny. Lack of food had shrunk it into a mere fist. Raphael squeezed it between his fingers and listened to the suppressed noises it garnered him. It was a pleasure to cut it open with a claw. Gastric acid oozed through the slit and Raphael allowed it to coat the outside of the organ. Muscles strained in their infernal chains. Good.

Carefully, Raphael placed the poison coated stone in the shuddering stomach and let it hang out the fiends back while he caught drops of the drizzling healing waters. He smeared them over the cut that knitted back together easily. Immediately, the organ picked up its job and started working on the stone.

A deep groan escaped the pit fiend and Raphael smiled. Such music. A fine soft adagio to start things off. A thin needle and thread to sew up the back wound stoked the pained growls into andante. A good pace to listen to while he considered his further steps.

The sound of desperate pleas drifted up from the far side of the dungeon. Haarlep, playing his own games on Raphael's conditions. The incubus was free to please himself on any of the prisoners but their souls belonged to Raphael. It enriched Haarlep's diet and calmed their insatiable hungers.

From the sound of the whimpering voice, his incubus had chosen the gelugon today. A worthy toy with teeth and claws. They were so eager to be freed of their chains they forgot how helpless a single kiss from Haarlep made them. For a moment the slap of flesh-on-flesh drowned out the screams of pain and pleas for release.

Raphael perused his arsenal of pain and considered a soft interlude with his little mouse. A little something to let out the lust pooling in his stomach as Haarlep worked their victim. His hands closed over hard and brittle seed of an ocean plant. They were formed like stars and their points would break nicely under duress.

He returned to his pit fiend that writhed on its iron X with groans of pain dribbling from reluctant lips. Raphael smiled and patted his face. He rolled his work tray to the front and considered for a moment. Biceps. He hadn't touched those in a while.

This time, Raphael chose a less sharp knife, pressing the blade through skin and muscle with brute force. He splayed the biceps open with sharp claws and scattered some of the tiny seeds into it. Then he closed the wound and skin. Lastly, he loosened the chains on the arm, allowing the fiend to move within bounds.

Raphael repeated the process on the other side. He put his tools away with care after cleaning them and returned to the now writhing fiend. Able to move his arms, the fiend did in pain but each motion drilled the seeds into his flesh. Gasps slipped into the groans and low howls.

It was almost enough to satisfy Raphael. But the music was not lively enough yet. He conjured three mage hands with a dark smirk. Two hands gripped the fiend's wrists and moved his arms in a frivolous rhythm. Vivace. Presto. Finally the screams fed Raphael's soul. Suffering created carefully and crafted meticulously.

He directed the third mage hand to the fiend's crotch. The ghostly fingers stroked the limp cock, squeezing and massaging it tenderly. Once the erection was full, Raphael considered thrusting needles into it. Maybe lengthwise, maybe through its girth. Maybe both.

Opera. That was it. A private box just for him and Tav. The thrill of pleasures enjoyed under the noses of the rich and self-important. He left the pit fiend to his own symphony to prepare for the softer part of the evening. By the time that was done, the pit fiend should be ready for needles.

What a wonderful day in the hells, where all his hungers were fed generously.

[thecameronchronicles]

Pavlovian Conditioning: Reward

TW: Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: Rafe seeks out his reward after showing what he learned with his former tutoring session.

Word Count: 1500

Pavlovian Conditioning 2: Reward

The sudden hand colliding with the table before you made you gasp as you took a quick gander to assess the reason for such vulgar placement. 

“Said I got the highest in the class…I would say that deserves a reward…” Rafe spoke proudly as he stood with the grandest grin spread across his chiseled features. If not for the fact he was so handsome, you would find this arrogance anything but arousing, even a turn off. But the way his eyes sparkled with self importance and his lips pulled to that smirk, you could spend all day simply staring at him as it was rare he held such pride. Entitlement, always. But not pride. Not like this. Not from his own hard work. Not from something Ward didn’t endorse or buy him outright. And because of that, you couldn’t help but be proud of him as well. 

“Let me see…” You explained as he sat on the side of the bed while you stood on your feet to get to your glasses on the table beside your bed. But as you paced slowly before him, reading through his answers and becoming rather impressed with the detail he clearly seemed to understand with material complicated in contrast to what he was used to, he watched you with great determination and focus. 

“So…what kind of reward were you thinking?” You were taken between his legs, your body pulled gracefully over him one leg at a time, before you were straddling him. 

“I’ve been thinking A LOT about it…and I was thinking of all that stress and tension…All those questions and multiple choices, which led me to think that I deserve a bit of everything…”

“Oh really?” 

He nodded, his fingers pulling at the fabric of your shirt. 

“As opposed to every other time when…”

“When I don’t deserve it.” 

“Rafe-”

“Don’t. You asked, okay? But now, I have…so I’m expecting you to make good on it…Don’t you think I deserve it…baby?”

“Then what do you want, Rafe? You DID work hard…And ‘highest in the class’ is very impressive…” He nodded. 

“Enough to make you soak those pretty little panties for me?”

“They already are…” He bit his bottom lip before positioning you over his thigh. 

“Rafe…this is supposed to be for you-”

“Knowing how wet I make you, getting YOU off does so much to me, you have no fucking clue…And this is about ME-what I want, isn’t it?” You nodded. 

“Good…so ride my thigh, sweetheart…wanna feel just HOW wet I’ve made you in knowing I’m all smart, just like you…” You smirked as he began to guide your hips over his thigh. 

“Rafe…” You moaned. 

“Mmmhmmm…I love these hips…so fucking perfect…” He clenched his teeth prior to these words, “But I wanna see all of you…” You nodded, positioning your arms upwards so he could pull the sweater from your arms. When you were revealed to him in only your bra, he set his lips to your chest, running his kiss across your soft skin until he was able to pull the straps freely down to their loose rest at your elbows until releasing from its clasp completely.

“You know why I can never get A’s before that test?” You nodded, half listening as his touch was enough to distract you from anything and everything. 

“Because THIS is all I can ever think about…Not just sex. YOU. Your skin…your body…your voice…every part of you…” You were pulled closer to him. 

“SEE what it does to me?” He asked as your skirt was lifted from between your thighs so you could feel his cock against your clothed clit. 

“How am I ever supposed to focus when I’m always this hard? Teacher was lucky I didn’t doodle my thoughts on the margins of that test…write those pretty little names that I call you instead of my own…”

“Rafe…”

“Keep going, baby…I want you to soak those panties for me…maybe I’ll take ‘em with me to my next test…call it…an incentive…” You bit your bottom lip at the thought.

 “My good girl’s panties in my back pocket as I get another A…Maybe even a higher grade than you?” He taunted as your lips were pulled apart by his thumb. 

“That sound good for you baby? Hmmm? Wanna come for me?”

“With you…” You moaned as the friction and his grip was enough to make your orgasm tease its presence. 

“Please…”

“I don’t want to collect my reward quite yet…it was a long test…I wanna savor this…” You were set onto your feet. 

“Rafe?”

“Change my mind…I want to make you squirt in ‘em…” Your eyes widened. “But I want to get something out of it first, okay? So I need you to get on your knees for me. I want more of my…incentive…”

“Slowly-” He corrected as you charged at his cock, taken from his pants, as you nodded. 

“Eyes to me…I wanna watch the second they tear up-the second they screw shut when you can’t take it.” You nodded again, silent by his thick shaft pushing beyond your physical limitations. 

“Show me how proud you are of me baby…I think there were fifty questions…so how about fifty sucks, huh? Or fifty minutes on your knees?” He guided himself from between your lips so you could answer, a thumb brushing the drool from his chin. 

“I want to please you, Rafe, I don’t care how, I can take it.” He clenched his teeth. 

“Oh, I know you can…but I want you to enjoy it…So tell me…”

“Fifty sucks.” He smirked. 

“Good…I don’t think I can handle more than that…Perfect little mouth knows exactly how to make me come, don’t you?” You nodded. 

“Good girl…Slowly. Fifty for me, okay?” You nodded as he began to count. 

Counting to ten, he would guide you deeper. Fifteen marked a faster speed. And by twenty five, you were completely breathless, eyes trained to him, as he was strained in grunts and groans over you. 

“Oh my fucking God…”

You nodded. 

“I don’t know if I can make it to fifty,” He paused, “Thirty two….thirty three…thirty four-”

“God, I wanna come…” You nodded. “Shit…” But he would stop you at forty. 

“I want your hand for the last ten…and then you bend over this bed and you’re gonna let me pull that perfect little ponytail until it hurts…” You agreed with a bob to your head. 

“Good girl.” You stood over him, bringing spit over the head of his cock, before taking him in your hand. 

“Slowly, baby…I’m so fucking close from your throat-” 

“I understand.”

“I know you do…” He kissed you sweetly as you began to stroke him. 

“Forty one…” He spoke against your lips, holding your hair to keep you against him, “Forty two…forty three…forty four…Faster-Faster!” You obliged. 

“Forty five…forty six-forty seven-forty-forty-fuck!” You looked down to the precum staining your hands from its beads before he smirked. 

“You like watching what you do to me, don’t you? My girl likes to watch, hmm?”

“Rafe, please…I want to make you come…”

“A few more…then that ass is mine.” 

“Forty eight…forty nine-fifty-” Before you could finish counting, you were on your knees and on the bed, the skirt pulled to keep your knees together. 

“Stop me if it hurts-”

“I can take it…Don’t be soft…”

He growled, “Fuck…” He groaned before penetrating into you, parting your sex with his aching cock, before bottoming out in slow succession. 

“You ARE proud of me…shit…”

“So proud, Rafe!”

“Yeah…I can feel just how much my girl is…”

“Fuck me, Rafe…please-”

“Yeah?” He pulled your hair back far enough so he could look into your eyes. 

“Open.” You parted your lips, watching him drop a single line of saliva to your tongue. 

“Swallow, I know you know how…” You nodded as he smirked. 

“So good to me, aren’t you?”

You nodded as he began to move inside of you, a hand running up your throat keeping you facing him as he watched you breathe heavy from his motions. 

“I love watching you…but I can’t take it for another second…”

“Please Rafe…you did so well…let me be good for you…”

“Yeah?” He pushed you into guidance with your cheek to the sheets. 

“You always are, yeah?”

“Yes!” You groaned, “Fuck-” You were cut off by a hand to your ass. 

“YES!”

“You’re gonna come with me…Give me what I want, right?”

“What you want…yes…What you want…” You spoke quickly as he rounded his hand on your clit. 

“Next time, I’m gonna make sure this gets enough love, okay baby? But I gotta come, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry, Rafe…You deserve it…I wanna give it to you-”

“Yeah you do.” He groaned. “Yes you do….oh shit…oh fuck…baby I’m..I’m gonna come… come with me-” He gasped as you pushed back against him. 

“YES!” He grunted one final breath of endorsement before folding over you in release, the continuation of his fingers bringing you to yours, before you were turned to face him. 

“What do I get for acing the essay portion?” He teased as you smirked, “What about my SAT’s?”

“Whatever you want, Rafe…”

“I fucking love you, baby…”

“I love you too, brainiac.” He teased as he continued to gleam, now in both sweat and pride, as he had been given his reward. 

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @belcalis9503