#I am practically gagging for this to be written so I can read it

[luniusarahant]

Behavioral Issues

G!P Winter x F! Reader

Content Warning: Porn without plot (not much anyway), tummy bulge, degradation, nonconsensual sex, implied blackmailing, and unprotected sex.

Request: No, written because I have free will.

Author’s Note: This is my first fiction, please support me kindly! Oh, and also I got very embarrassed halfway through reading it. So it is only half proofread.

Your shoulder blades tense as you crash into the lockers, the metal cool against your skin as she grips onto you. “Do you know how much time that project took me,” Minjeong glares at you as she speaks, her eyes squinting through her black framed glasses.

You cringe at the feeling of her clammy hands against your own skin. “Who the hell are you talking to.. freak.. you should watch yourself,” you give her a quick scowl.

“I��m talking to you. How many years of torment have I endured because of you?” She adjusts the rim of her glasses while giving you a lookover. “The only reason you have any power over me is due to your popularity.”

“Due to my popularity? Have you ever once stopped and thought about how much of a geek you are? You should know your place you perv,” you give her a slight push on the chest, but she barely budges as she puffs her chest out in defense.

“What the fuck? Move..” you give her another shove only to be met with a fierce backhand on the cheek. “So cocky, but I’ve always wanted to hit you like that,” Minjeong snarls at you, her eyes laced with more than a hint of resentment.

“Y-You are so dead.. when I tell-” she scoffs, a cocky smirk written all over her lips. “What? Will you tell your boyfriend? So pathetic.. never being able to handle your own issues,” she plants a hand near your head, the locker door rattling as she does so.

Your heart drops as she leans in, her face so close to yours that you can smell her cologne. “You’ll have to pay me back now. All because of you. Because of you my project is ruined and I’m going to fail finals this week.”

Before you can respond she gives a tug at your skirt, the seams parting with a loud rip. Your hands instantly shoot down to cover yourself, your underwear now visible. “Why so shy now? You’re known as the campus whore. You should be conditioned to this.”

“Minjeong stop! Don’t touch me! I’ll tell everyone what you’re doing!” You squirm every time her fingers touch at you.

“You already tell everyone how much of a perverted loser I am. Might as well live up to those standards,” she coos into your ear, her tongue licking a stripe up your neck. “Mm.. I can finally have my turn with you.”

“Stop.. please stop. Leave me alone,” you whine into her shoulder as she tugs at your clothing. With each layer stripped of your body you become meeker and quieter. But that only stirs Minjeong up even more. The thought of you in a vulnerable state makes her hard as a rock.

In one swift motion she unbuttons her jeans, her zipper practically breaking as she reaches for her cock. Large is an understatement. Her dick is not only lengthy, but girthy as well. No hair in sight and one prominent vein near the left side. Her balls are full too. Heavy. Hung.

“Minjeong.. I’m sorry,” you sputter out in fear as she positions you below her until your face is parallel with her cock. With one hand she smacks it on your face, her sticky precum smearing on your cheek in one fast swipe.

“Give me a good polish and I might keep quiet about this whole situation,” she gives your cheek another quick slap before pressing her pink tip against your lips. You can taste the saltiness of her precum as she works her way into your mouth.

Each inch shoved down your throat causes you to gag in response, your saliva coating her cock as she uses you like a fleshlight. “That shut you up quick, didn’t it? You gonna drain my balls princess?”

You put both of your hands against her thighs in protest to absolutely no avail. She grabs two handfuls of your hair and jerks your mouth further onto her cock, a few loud groans eliciting from her. “Who’s a good cocksleeve? You gonna take this load like a good slut?”

You gag once again, your eyes red and puffy with tears and your throat sore from her rough throatfucking. Even as you cry she only continues to degrade you more as she throws her leg over your shoulder, a guttural moan emitting from her as her cock twitches in your warm mouth.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Three strong shots of semen spurt from her cock and hit the back of your throat. You can feel and taste her seed as it drips slowly down your throat. Minjeong pulls out, a satisfied smile on her face as she stares down at you. “Why are you even in college? The best profession you’d ever get is as a cum dump.”

You swallow hard, your pride destroyed as she pulls you up, her cock still twitching with excitement from her previous orgasm. “Minjeong please.. I won’t do it again,” you weep into her chest as she lifts you, your legs wrapping around her waist.

She just clicks her tongue at you, a hint of disapproval in her voice as she taunts you. “You’re only sorry once there’s consequences.” She pulls at your underwear until a loud rip reverberates throughout the locker room, your panties falling onto the floor.

Before you can speak Minjeong has positioned her tip with your entrance, her cock sliding in with an all too slow rhythm. It makes you cry out in pain as your walls stretch to accommodate her size, each sudden movement making your cunt grip on her shaft.

“J-Jeongie it hurts so bad,” you yelp while scratching at her back as she begins to quicken her pace, her thrusts getting deeper with each passing second. She grunts in response, her balls plapping against your ass as she pounds into you. You can feel your own wetness coating her cock as she bottoms out into you, her balls tightening as you hold her close.

Her legs begin to shake as she carries you over to the rickety (and practically ancient) benches. As she flexes her shoulder blades she drops you down onto the bench, one of her legs propped up to stabilize herself. With both of her hands she grips at your thighs, pressing them into your chest as she forces you into the mating press position. “This suits you,” she smiles down at you, her hair sticking to her face as she manhandles you.

Lowering your gaze from her eyes to your stomach you watch as her bulge moves inside of you, each action causing your body to stir in discomfort. You can feel her tip kissing at your cervix, her moans growing louder as she slams into you. With one final groan Minjeong falls onto you, all of her weight heavy against you as her seed spills out into you.

You whine under her, your eyes rolling back and your breath hitching as she fills your pussy up with warm sticky cum. With the rest of her strength Minjeong pulls out of you, her semen spilling out of you and onto the tiled floor of the locker room. She swallows hard, her gaze still set on you as she backs up. “Smile for me,” Minjeong whispers under her breath before a white flash reflects off of the lockers. “Maybe this’ll teach you to respect me.’’

Before you can react Minjeong has zipped up her jeans and walked out of the locker room, the only evidence of her presence being the lingering scent of her cologne and her thick semen pooling out of you.

[lustnhim]

‘ last nerve. ‘ — dom! elvis x fem! reader

note: dead dove(ish?) + requested / warnings: MDNI, p in v sex, implied age gap, fingering, no protection, choking, slapping, edging, hair pulling, semi-dub con (elvis is mad lolol) oral m + f receiving, prob typos, kinda pwp, poorly written ngl. / summary: elvis is tired of you talking back, so he’s gonna put you in your place.

“Darlin’ this is the last goddamn time I'm gonna tell you to watch your mouth.” Elvis said, pacing back and forth in the living room while you sat down in one of the chairs, the book you were reading still in your hand. “I don’t know what you mean.” You replied, flipping through the pages and scanning the words on them mindlessly. “You know exactly what I mean! I can’t stand when you act like this, like a damn spoiled brat!” Elvis practically yelled, stopping his pacing and staring at you, his face twisted with anger. 

Elvis had been gone so much recently, he had just got back to performing and was never home. You couldn't help but feel a bit bitter, sure, you loved him so much– but you were needy, and he knew that. It was different when he was filming, you could be there, but the Colonel didn't want you around while Elvis was performing…

“I am not a spoiled brat!” You replied, your voice cracking a bit. Elvis shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, he was laughing a bit. You winced, sitting down your book and looking at him. You had never seen him act like this before…your heart began to race. “E-El? I’m sorry…” You said quietly, your voice soft and gentle. You started to get out of the chair when Elvis put his hand up, “Do not get up.” He said, his voice stern. You sat back down and watched Elvis take a deep breath, “You can’t just sorry your way outta’ this one honey…” He said, approaching you slowly, his movements careful. Once at the edge of the chair you were sitting in he smiled gently, a stark difference to his demeanor. Elvis leaned in close, his big hand gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "You think you can talk back to me like that? Like I'm nothin’?" He whispered menacingly into your ear. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, knowing very well you'd stepped over the line. You couldn't speak, you felt paralyzed.

You felt his hand quickly move from your chin to your neck, causing you to gasp and drop your book. His grip was tight, not enough to constrict your breathing entirely, but enough to know you had made a mistake. You looked at him, your eyes wide with concern and fear. “I ain’t gonna let you be a bitch ta’ me. Not after all I've done for you, honey.” His grip tightened as he spoke, and you could feel yourself starting to struggle against him. Gasping for air you took your hand and grabbed his, trying to pull him off of you. Elvis chuckled and let go of your neck, choking out for air you looked up at him, your eyes watery. He was smiling. “God love it…Look at you.” Elvis said, watching you try to regain your composure. 

You were still unable to speak, Elvis tsked and grabbed your arm, dragging you over to the bigger couch. Throwing you down he loomed over you, his smile still wide. Your chest heaved, as you looked at him, your breathing still sporadic and heavy. Something about it was…exciting.

“You wanna run your mouth, hm? You wanna be a smartass?” Elvis said, the sound of his belt buckle rattling in your ear. You took a shallow breath before Elvis jerked you upwards by your hair, his fist tangled in your locks. His cock stood proud, throbbing gently as precum pooled at his swollen tip. “Open wide, little girl.” Elvis said, You nodded silently as Elvis guided you, forcing your head to his crotch. Your lips parted, wrapping around the head of his cock. He groaned in pleasure as he forced your head down deeper, the taste of precum sweet on your tongue. Elvis gripped your hair tightly, controlling your movements as he watched, pushing your head down all the way as you gagged, his pubes tickling your nose.

 Leaving his cock down your throat he chuckled, “Atta girl…” He groaned, pulling you off of his cock for a second allowing you to catch your breath, strings of drool connecting from his cock to your lips. Small tears streamed down your cheeks. “C’mon…” Elvis said, his hand still in your hair, pushing you back on his cock. He was a lot tougher this time, forcing your head up and down on his cock at a rapid pace, you choked with each thrust as your makeup streamed down your face. His thrusts became more sporadic, you could feel his cock pulsing in your mouth, pressing your hand against his thighs he shoved himself down your throat one final time with a groan, spilling his cum in your mouth. 

You pulled away from him, coughing and sputtering as he released your hair. Spit and cum dribbled from your lips, your shoulders heaving with the effort of catching your breath. Elvis watched with a grin, his cock still semi-hard. Tucking it back in his boxers he smiled. “That’ll shut you up..” He chuckled, leaning down at you, slapping your face playfully. He took a step back, admiring your state. Makeup smeared down your face, the straps of your sundress had fallen down your shoulders, and your hair a wreck.  

“Elvis…” You whimpered, and he shushed you, grabbing your shoulders as he forced you to sit straight as he knelt down between your legs, spreading them with his hands. He stared at your wetness for a moment, his eyes darkening with hunger. “Look at that..” He said, his voice laced with menace. He took a finger and rubbed it along your clothed cunt, his thumb brushing against your clit causing you to jolt. He chuckled, watching as your back arched off the couch. “It’s too bad,” he said softly, flicking your clit hard. “My girl doesn't deserve to cum, does she?” Elvis began to tease you, his thumb dancing along your slit, brushing against your clit before retreating. You squirmed, trying to grind against the small source of pleasure causing Elvis to smack your cunt. Finally pulling down your panties Elvis groaned as he ran a finger across your slit, your slick coating his finger in an instant. “God, you’re such a fuckin’ mess.”

You whimpered nervously, the pleasure pooling between your legs as he stuck a finger in you. “Please, Elvis…” You begged, the need building within you. “You’ll have to do better than that, little girl.” He said, his tone cold as he thrusted his finger into you, his thumb circling your clit. Sticking in another finger Elvis groaned as he watched you arch your back off the couch. “Sit fuckin’ still.” He growled, watching your legs start to tremble. “Do not fuckin’ cum, you hear me?” He barked, his fingers moving faster inside of you as his thumb continued to abuse your clit. You could feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, the overstimulation too much to handle as you started to cry. “Please, Elvis, I’m sorry, please let me cum. Please, please, please, please.” You cried, the tears streaming down your face faster as the need became almost unbearable. Elvis smirked upon hearing you beg, pulling his fingers out of you, you cried out in disappointment, looking down at him you watched him grab your thighs, pushing you to the edge of the couch and spreading your legs wide and delving his head between them. You whimpered, your body tensing as you felt his tongue circle your clit. Pushing two fingers back inside of you, your pussy clenched around them. Elvis groaned against your cunt, as you buck your hips against his face, mindlessly chasing your orgasm that Elvis was denying you. 

Elvis pulled his face away from between your legs for a moment, “Cum.” he ordered simply, before burying his head back between your legs, his fingers still curling inside of you. It didn't take long for you to reach your orgasm, your thighs involuntarily closing around Elvis’ head as he lapped up your juices. Pulling away from you once you were down from your high, he leaned up, crawling on the couch, pushing you down and hovering above you. Grabbing your face, he forced you to kiss him, his body now pressed against yours. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, his hand gripping your face roughly. You tasted yourself on his tongue, the kiss was violent– unlike any kiss he had ever given you before. 

“You wanna know somethin’..?” Elvis asked upon pulling away, one hand in his boxers as he pulled out his now fully-hard cock. “I think you wanted this baby….I think, that deep down, you wanted me to be rough with you.”  Elvis said, stroking himself gently before lining up at your entrance. “Ain't that right?” He smirked, looking down at you, your eyes wide. You nodded mindlessly, still unable to find your voice, the fear and excitement making it difficult for you to speak. Elvis shook his head, and licked his lips. “Stay still.” Elvis said, before slamming himself into you, causing you to yelp and arch you back. Elvis growled and pushed down on your stomach, causing you to lay flat. “I said stay still goddammit!” He yelled, leaning over onto you Elvis began to thrust into you, his pace unforgiving. Your hands searched the couch for anything you could grip onto, anything you could hold to try to stay still. Each thrust was primal, your hands finally finding the edge of the couch as your body bounced up and down violently. Bottoming out inside of you he growled, hips slammed into yours, whimpers and cries leaving your mouth with each thrust. 

Elvis gripped your hips tightly, his movements becoming more erratic as he lost himself in the carnal act. "You're mine, aren't you, baby? You gonna behave me?" He panted, his voice hoarse with desire. You didn't respond, instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. That seemed to be answer enough for Elvis, his thrusts intensifying. You felt yourself nearing orgasm, looking at Elvis who was completely lost in the act, his hair a mess, sweat dripping down his face as his fingers dug into your skin. You clenched around him, as your breathing became ragged, your moans becoming louder. “Gonna cum, little girl?” Elvis teased, his thrusts becoming more sporadic. “Squeezing around me like that…Fuck...I’m gonna fill ya’ up…”

Elvis' words pushed you over the edge, the orgasm surging through your entire body. You moaned aloud as you squeezed around Elvis' pulsing cock. Elvis growled as he thrust into you sloppily a few more times before he drove into you one last time, his orgasm drawing a loud whimper from him. A hot, thick stream of cum filled you, leaving you feeling completely full. He collapsed onto your sweat-covered body, his breathing ragged. For a moment, the only sounds were the two of you gasping for air. Elvis eventually leaned up and pulled out, your heart was pounding in your ears, and your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. You looked at Elvis as he stood up from the couch, adjusting himself and putting back on his pants. He had never been so…rough with you before. You watched as he lit himself a cigar and turned to look at you, a crooked smirk on his face. 

“My poor girl…” He cooed, walking over to you and blowing cigar smoke in your face before helping you to your feet and grabbing your panties which he ceremoniously shoved in his pocket. Adjusting your dress and caressing your face gently with one hand, wiping your ruined makeup off your face gently. "That'll teach you, won't it?" He teased gently, his voice calm. Nodding slightly Elvis chuckled, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. 

WE HIT 200 FOLLOWERS WOO!!! i love you guys so so much, and i’m sorry if this fic is bad i really tried my best lolol— i get super excited when people request fics because i love writing so don’t ever be afraid to request :3

tags: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @18lkpeters @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @mysteriouslymagicalwolf @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @generousspirit @joyouswonders @callieselvisobsessed @iminlovewithaustinbutler @eapep @auntbee22 @scarlettlight06 @wildhorseinkansas @elvisiana @spookyeagleflower @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 (if u wanna be added or removed lmk!)

[celli-ohs]

hubba hubba!

part two of accidentally in love! series frat boy!yeonjun x stubborn!reader; college!au, one-sided love to lovers! comedy/crack, fluff, angst, SMUT (softdom!yeonjun x sub!femreader)

ATTENTION: This chapter contains SMUT!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! (M18+)

WARNINGS: drunk/distracted driving, mentions of drinking, foul language, oral (m&f receiving), masturbation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, shower sex

author's note: once again, I'm so sorry for how bad I am at writing smut 😭 this is what I get for not reading smut myself sorry y'all I really tried this time! I think I'm getting better though lmao

17. i took her to my penthouse and i freaked it (written chapter 2.5K)

Your skirt is riding up as you lean over, but you don’t seem to notice or care due to all of your attention being on Yeonjun’s cock. “Holy fuck. Slow down baby, I gotta focus.” He whines. His actions betray him though, as you feel his other hand push your head down deeper. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag, choking around him. The man in question lets out a heavenly moan in response. He releases you, and you gasp for air before diving back in, teasing by licking his shaft up and down. God he tasted so good. You’re sure your makeup is ruined, you’ve probably got lipstick all over your face with how you were practically starving for his dick, but that doesn’t seem to bother Yeonjun at all. You can hear him press on the gas, his breath labored as he tried to keep his eyes on the road and not you as you suck his tip like a lollipop. “I wanna ride you so bad Jun,” You whimper, massaging his balls as you kiss his dick. “Almost there baby girl, almost.”

Your night began when Yeonjun knocked on your apartment door. “Coming!” You shout as you speed out of your room, struggling to clip on your earring. You quickly throw open your door, and you’re immediately taken aback. Yeonjun wears nothing but a gray tank top and washed-out jeans. His hair is parted but a little messy, he probably drove with his windows down, a habit you’d learned he had, especially since it was the end of summer. But what takes you out is his eye contact. His eyes are intense, they scan all over you before connecting with your own, and he just smiles. Not his usual one, this smile was different, and you had an idea on why. “Hi,” You cough out, trying to remain calm as you smile. “Hey, wow you look amazing.” Yeonjun licks his lips. You only laugh, stepping to the side to let him in.

“Heeseung already left with the guys, I’m almost ready, I just have to change.” You say as you walk towards your room down the hall. “That’s not your outfit? You look good already,” Yeonjun says as he follows you. You laugh again, you’re wearing nothing but biker shorts and a random t-shirt from high school that was a little too small. “You’re funny. Give me a moment to change, I’ll be right out.” You tell him. “Why can’t I just come with you? I’ll close my eyes.” he sends you a suggestive smirk, one you roll your eyes at. “Yeonjun,” He grins. “I promise!” You shake your head and close the door. “No,I’ll be quick.” You tell him. As you’re searching through your closet, you can hear him humming “Toxic” by Britney Spears on the other side of the wall.

You settle on a two piece set, a matching skirt and halter top combo. You quickly slip it on, having already done your hair and makeup earlier. You’re putting your shoes on when you hear Yeonjun knock. “You ready?” He asks. “Yeah, actually can you come in? I need some help.” You announce, fixing your skirt in the mirror. “Come in? Okay…” He opens the door slowly, peeking his head through. Yeonjun acts as if he’d never been in your room before, when the last time he was here he’d taken a nap on your bed as you sewed the straps on Yujin’s dress. “Over here,” You wave to him, and he finally walks over. He lets out a low whistle as he eyes your figure. “I’m loving the fit,” He says in a low voice. “Thanks, I made it myself.” You wink at him through the mirror.

“Could you tie this for me?” You instruct, and gesture to the two loose straps hanging on your shoulders. Yeonjun jumps at the opportunity, helping you sweep your hair out of the way. His fingers ghost over the back of your neck, and you have to fight yourself from shuddering. Yeonjun takes his time tying the knot, but once he’s finished, he slides his hand gently down your back. You don’t move as he leans down, lips settling right next to your ear. “You’re so beautiful.” You can hear him smirking. You bite your lip, forcing yourself to behave. “T-Thank you.” You cough out, too embarrassed to look at him now. Usually you’d tease him right back, but with how he was looking at you right now, you were having a hard time thinking of a comeback.

As you two drove, Yeonjun’s right hand danced its way over to your thigh. Your bare skin feels as if it’s been lit on fire as his fingers drum to the beat of his radio against your plush leg. “So,” You clear your throat. “You said this was your first party in a while, right?” You try to make conversation, hoping to distract yourself from Yeonjun’s lingering fingers. “Yeah, they convinced me to let them celebrate, but to be honest, I kind of missed getting together like this.” He shrugs, eyes on the road. “I mean, a party every once in a while is nice, don’t know how you guys do it every weekend.” You admit. “It’s an acquired taste,” Yeonjun jokes. “I know a couple of the guys see it as a reward for a long week of school though,” You laugh along, you were pretty sure he was referring to Jake.

Yeonjun swiftly parks the car upon your arrival, running to open your door. “On second thought,” he mumbles as he helps you out, holding your hand. “Maybe I’d rather we head back. You look too divine to be out in public.” You chuckle, swatting him away. “We drove all the way here, let’s socialize a little.” And socialize you two did. Yeonjun practically had himself wrapped around you all night, never leaving your side. Even when his own friends would try to pry him off you, he’d stick to you like gum on a shoe. You enjoyed every minute of it, finding his clinginess not only cute, but insanely hot. “If you ever need anymore models, I’d love to volunteer, I'll even go nude.” Mingi smirks down at you as he leans against the wall for support. You find his childish attempts at flirting with you amusing.

“Fuck off Mingi, that’s my girl.” Yeonjun growls, his grip around your waist getting tighter. “Your girl? I don’t ever remember agreeing to such a thing,” You raise a brow at the man, and he bites his lip. You don’t notice Mingi slink off. “Yeah, well,” Yeonjun’s index finger slips under your chin, tipping your head back. “I was hoping you’d be mine exclusively after tonight,” His words have you shuddering, and before you know it, your beer has been discarded and replaced by Choi Yeonjun’s lips. You always had a suspicion that his lips were soft, seeing him pout almost daily when you’d poke fun at him, but you never expected Yeonjun’s lips to be as soft as a pillow.

You could taste the shots of whiskey he’d had earlier as it mixed with your strawberry lip gloss, a taste you became addicted to. His hands roam your body, pulling you closer and closer, trying to merge one another. Yeonjun suddenly pulls away, your lips trailing after him. “Jun-” “Let’s get outta here,” He’s breathless as you two run out the front door.

By some miracle, you two manage to make it inside his apartment and into his bedroom in one piece. Yeonjun pushes you onto his mattress, you're already spent but you only crave him more. “Take off your clothes.” He orders, standing at the edge of the bed. You comply, too horny to even feel embarrassed as you strip yourself in front of him. Yeonjun’s eyes are glazed over as you lay back down on his bed, completely nude for him to ravish. “God you’re so fucking hot,” He groans, throwing his tank top over his head and fumbling to remove his jeans. “I need you Yeonjun, please-” You begin to whine, playing with yourself as he finally frees himself of his clothes. “Don’t touch yourself,” He commands, and you hold your breath as you remove your hand.

“You said you wanted to ride, show me how you like to ride baby girl,” He teases, kissing you harshly before shoving you aside to lay against his headrest. “I wanna ride you, ride your cock, so good,” You’re babbling, unable to contain yourself as you hover over his erect dick . You’re sopping wet, dripping your essence all over Yeonjun before finally sinking down on his cock. He moans right into your titty, mouth latched onto your perky nipple. You gasp for air, not expecting his dick to stretch your insides so satisfyingly. You begin to move slowly, up and down, rising and falling. Every time your ass slammed against his thighs, you cried out, he was just too big yet you couldn’t get enough. “Too slow,” Yeonjun mumbles against your skin.

He holds you up, allowing him to piston up into you. You’re wailing in pleasure, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. You cum for the first time that night riding Yeonjun. As your pussy spasms, you collapse on top of him, energy spent as Yeonjun flips you over. “I’m not done yet baby, don’t get tired now,” He smiles, swiping a stray hair from your face as you pant. Now you lay beneath him, legs wide open. “Wanna taste you while you’re still fresh,” Yeonjun murmurs, yet you don’t realize what he’s meant until his head is stuck between your thighs. You might break his skull with how tight you’re squeezing, but luckily Yeonjun finds this an honorable way to go.

Still he pries your legs open, not wanting to waste a drop of you. You claw at his sheets, crying out his name. “Jun- Yeonjun please-!” You just came minutes ago, you could only handle so much. But he’s a determined man, he’s not leaving your legs until you come one more time. His tongue laps against your folds, sucking and rubbing against your clit. You grab his head, fucking yourself against his face, something he never knew he’d love so much. “I’m gonna-“ You don’t even finish your sentence, cumming instantly. Yeonjun drinks you up as your high slowly falls, you’re moaning loudly, hips still rolling.

“One more baby girl.” Yeonjun smiles as you release him from your death grip. You let him flip you around once more, you lay on your stomach. He’s placed a pillow under your abdomen, raising your ass towards him. “That’s it, let daddy take care of you baby.” He groans into your ear as he leans down to push his thick cock into your pussy once more. You whimper as he begins to thrust, taking a steady pace. “You feel so good, tightest little pussy.” Yeonjun begins to kiss your back. “Fuck I can’t get enough of you.” He’s been dying to cum if he were being honest. You just make the prettiest noises, and wrap around his dick oh so perfectly. But he wanted to enjoy you for even longer.

He can tell you’re already close with how you’re panting, your pussy gripping even tighter than before. So he grabs you, standing you up. Your back is to his chest, he forcibly turns your head towards him, giving him access to your lips. He kisses you with so much passion, his dick pumping in and out of you in a fever. You were well over stimulated yet couldn’t even push him away if you wanted to, his hands held both of your wrists. “I’m close baby, gonna cum.” Yeonjun mumbles against your lips. You nod, trembling. “Cum in me.” His eyes light up. “You want me to cum in you, my pretty baby? Wanna become a mommy?” His lips trail down to your neck, his hips never failing to slow down.

“Need you to cum in me, please- I want you cum in me daddy!” You whine, breaths getting more rapid as Yeonjun’s pace speeds up. “Gonna make you feel so good, gonna get you pregnant with my baby.” He begins to ramble, and now he’s coming undone. He lets go of one of your arms, his hand slips down to your clit, and he begins to rub as he pistons into you. You cum almost immediately, your orgasm taking over your entire body. Your moans fill his room, his apartment. You’re convulsing around his cock, he can’t take it any more. “Gonna cum-!” He chokes. “Please please please please please plea-“ You gasp as Yeonjun groans into your ear, filling you up, pump by pump.

Yeonjun lets you down onto the bed gently, your breath ragged as you lay against his sheets. You feel him slip out of you, his cum oozing out of your hole. You’re so out of it, you barely feel Yeonjun kneel down and give your ass a kiss. “So pretty, all for me to see.” He chuckles. You hear him leave the room, a few seconds later he comes back. He’s wiping you down with a towel. “I’m so hot and sticky,” You grimace as you flip around to sit up. “Wanna take a shower? Let me turn it on for you.” Yeonjun says, before caressing your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You are amazing, thank you.” You sigh and smile. You lay back down as he leaves for the bathroom.

Moments later you find yourself under the cool water, covered in sudsy bubbles, and bouncing on top of Yeonjun’s dick again. “You’re an active one.” He jokes as you have your head tucked into the crook of his neck, arms thrown over his shoulders. “Shut up, you started this.” You groan, now embarrassed. “Well baby, what did you expect when I got in with you?” He asks, smirking at you. You glare, and decide to shut him up with a kiss. “Just fuck me.” You threaten. “Love to.” He teases, taking control once more by picking you up, and moving you to his own pace. You throw your head back in pleasure. You feel even tighter, warmer than earlier, sex with you is mind blowing.

Yeonjun doesn’t even warn you when he cums this time, he just does. Pushing you up against the wall, he fiercely kisses you. You can feel his cock throb inside of you as he sets you back down onto your feet. You savor his lips as the two of you wrap your arms around each other under the shower. Suddenly, Yeonjun pulls away, he rubs his thumb across your lips. “I love you.” He suddenly confesses, his eyes pouring his love and soul into you as he stares. You smile and sigh, leaning into his touch. “Let’s wash up, yeah?” Yeonjun gives you a cheesy smile, as if he expected this to be your answer, and nods. In hushed whispers and laughter, you two help each other clean up.

Bonus:

whenever Yeonjun has a girl over, Beomgyu and Kai stay at Taehyun's and Soobin's apartment

they all gather to shit on Yeonjun (bonding moment!)

Yeonjun was so busy eyefucking Y/n at the party, he forgot all about Felix's cake he made for him

Mingi was not joking about the nude modeling

Yeonjun and Y/n were at the party for only 40 minutes before they dipped

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taglist (open): @justandloyal2961 @hoonatic @emosakumas @ancnymcnzjy @gomdoleemyson @yamsinthetaso

[kumerish]

really love blind alley, i have an odd question though: do you have a pronouns guide for the kids or are you just leaving them up for reader interpretation? (other than red who has already been asked about)

Thank you!

A: Not an odd question. I think about this a lot too. I've spent a really long time trying to order my thoughts on this in a coherent way.

I am intentional when I use pronouns. When we know, that means it's part of how a character conceives of themself. The reverse is also true. I feel a bit at odds with myself here though; despite previously making a post about the importance of ambiguity and interpretation in my storytelling, this is one area where I'd prefer people just accept that lack of certainty instead of theorizing.

I want us to be able to conceive of them as people and characters without categorizing them. Unfortunately, I can't force anyone to do this without being extremely didactic or overt and I find that sort of writing to be boring and easy to dismiss. People always misgender my characters. It doesn't upset me but it does make me feel like I am failing to get across my intentions. As with all art, you can't force someone to read and engage with it how you intend. Maybe I am just not conceptualizing this properly and there's a better way to do it. However, I am not comfortable imagining readers theorizing on a characters gender because that makes it feel like something withheld for some grand reveal. Gender just doesn't matter to some of these characters and within my own relationship to them; I would like that to be the case for my readers too.

This isn't to be dismissive of gender/sexuality and how strongly this can inform ones identity. However, and maybe it's naive of me but, I'd love to live in a world where gender and sexual orientation do not always factor in to our ability to relate to each other. Writing this way feels like putting to practice something important to me.

This desire to be comfortable with not knowing is partly in response to my general frustration with our inclination to constantly categorize people, ideas, and processes. I believe this inclination does endless harm. We want things to be finite, fixed, and known but when reading about biology, philosophy, and ecology, it's clear there are no fixed or singular points. It's all process, flux, and in between; that's where we live. That's also where cartoons live.

Blind Alley doesn't exist. There is no way for anyone to confirm anything about it. It is all relational cartoon abstraction; it is only what I draw and say and what you take from that. My hope is that, while an individual may have an interpretation of what I've written, a reader will also consider why it is written that way. I'm not certain how to force readers to sit with not knowing things - it's clear we all want answers but, philosophically and artistically, I think that getting comfortable with not needing to know is an expansive thing.

I'm also aware I am writing a comic strip; people engage with them in a certain frame of mind. I shouldn't overstate any of this because I am incredibly aware that I am writing a dumb comic strip with fart jokes and stupid gags. I unfortunately put a lot of pretentious thought into this.

So, to answer your question, I only know when it matters to the type of character I am writing. I am not withholding this information so I can do some sort of reveal later; it just feels right to write characters this way.

[ruskaroma]

omg imagine if jw was super nosey and looked through the readers diary and found out all the secret fantasies the reader had and tried fulfilling them in bed to suprise them

oh my god he DEF would !!!!!

her diary would be filled with a bunch of stickers and doodles that john finds cute, and he really thought her rants and thoughts about school and past boyfriends and girlfriends are all he'd find in her journal.

he didn't expect to see his name there, though. they've been fooling around her mom's back for a few weeks, but the dates of the notes goes way past the day they broke the tension and finally fucked.

there's something about the way dad's hands would always find their way to my thighs and waist. i know he doesn't think much of it, but it means so many different things to me.

they're so huge and rough, almost enough to engulf my whole thigh in one hand. and his fingers... god. this is so wrong - he's my dad! well, my step-dad, but still. he practically raised me, and here i am fantasizing sucking his fingers.

every night, i lay on my mind, thinking about how far his fingers could reach inside my pussy :( i'd cry. i can't even push my own fingers in without tearing up, and dad's fingers are so thick and long.

john raises a brow, a small smirk making its way in his face. he has already grown uncomfortably hard as his cock fattens up immediately in his pants.

i want dad to shove his fingers so deep in my cunt i'd feel it in my stomach. i keep imagining how he'd probably lick my clit at the process :( he's always been so attentive. i bet he'll always place my pleasure before his first.

and god.. when he wears his work clothes? it makes me so damn horny. he looks so big and broad in his suits. i've always had a fantasy about him fucking me while wearing one of his black suit.

he closes the journal before his eyes could even read the next sentence. he'd lose control and nut all over the place like a premature teenage boy if he keeps reading.

that same night, john would probably teasing you about it throughout dinner. he'd play with your hands while watching a movie with your mom, something he's always done ever since you were a kid, but now it has a different meaning. john finally understands just what you meant about his hands; they look absolutely huge in contrast to yours.

he wonders how you'd look like when he has his large hand around your neck as he forces his cock inside your little cunthole. you'd roll your eyes back, squirt all over his fat cock, wet all over your bed and -

when it's finally bedtime, you're not surprised when you see john sitting on your bed as this has always been the same routine with the two of you in the past few weeks. though, you turn red when you see what's in his hands.

your fucking journal.

“dad! oh my god, why do you have that -” you stutter, feeling yourself stuck in your position as your mind thinks about all the embarrassing stories and thoughts you'd written in that book. or worse, the ones about him.

he turns to you, a familiar glint in his eyes as he stands up and places the journal on the night stand. when he makes his way to you, you can't even form a single coherent words as you try to avoid his faze.

he's still in his work clothes - black suit, black pants, hair slicked up. you thought that after dinner he'd probably change and took a shower, but you can still smell the lingering cologne in his clothes and he smells and look fucking amazing.

he doesn't say anything when he stands in front of you. john raises his right hand, gripping your jaw and forcing you to finally look at him in the eyes.

“there's my good girl,” he whispers, thumb grazing your bottom lip as he watches you with hungry eyes. “my girl has the prettiest eyes.”

a reply is about to leave your mouth but replaced with a gasp when john suddenly pushes his index and middle finger inside your mouth, his left hand snaking up to your neck to keep your head in position, looking up at him with teary eyes from gagging around his fingers and gripping his wrist with your little hands to keep yourself from falling over.

“daddy's really sorry for reading your little diary, baby,” john coos, relishing the sounds of your gagging as you struggle to reply. “but i'm sure you'll forgive me once i give you what you've been fantasizing about for a long time.”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Hey! Could I request a fic with Bam where the reader is a female skater?

Maggot’s Kiss

Being apart of Tony Hawk’s skate team sounded like a dream to Y/N- that is, until she met Bam, and an innocent thing turns into something darker.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

2.6k Words

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, jealousy, crude language, very suggestive content, bullying, hate makeouts, nudity, fake dating, flirting, accidental vouyerisim, injury, blood

An: Thank you so much for your request and happy new year!! I decided to combine my love of darker fics and slow burn to create this for your reading pleasure ;) I just love writing banter like what Bam and Y/N have in this fic hehe XD This fic was also inspired by this amazing fic (one of my favorite Jackass fics on this website) by @asskickedbygirl, so please go check her out!! According to one of my beta readers this is one of the steamiest things I have ever written, and that was just based off of the first three paragraphs, so do with that what you will! Anyways, thank you for sending in requests and please keep sending more!! I love to read them and I enjoy writing them even more :)

You hated him. His edgy, crazy, rich boy schtick made you almost embarrassed to be touring with him and the rest of Tony’s team, knowing that no matter what, the spotlight was always on him. It was never Team Adio or Team Element- it was Bam and Company. Every time you saw pre-teens fighting tooth and nail over who got his autograph first or when chicks threw themselves at his feet for a chance to be graced by the presence of his less than average dick (you see a lot being on the same tour bus for two months), you gagged a little. You were seemingly the only person in America that didn’t fall for Bam Margera’s bullshit. Maybe hate was an understatement.

It was the evening before some exhibition you were supposed to do in the parking lot of a mall that you were pondering all of this, seething quietly in the tiny tour bus bunk bed you were trying to get some shut eye in. Trying being the key word, seeing as you weren't very successful at it. Sighing, you wriggled out of your middle row bunk, carefully stepping down and stretching, the claustrophobic sleeping conditions doing nothing for your already not great posture. There was a row of leather seats in the back of the bus you and the guys would usually sit around and play cards in or watch TV when you were on the road that you made your way back to, feeling around in the pitch darkness as a strange chill struck you. The only thing you could see was the glowing, orange tip of a cigarette as you sat down, knowing exactly who it was.

“Close the damn window. S’freezing.” Mumbling, you crossed your legs, tucking your feet into the backs of your knees to warm yourself up. He chuckled, taking another drawl on his cigarette, the embers glowing intensely for a moment before he exhaled, “Might wanna think ‘bout wearin’ a bra ‘round here.” You could practically feel Bam’s eyes on you through the darkness. “I had no idea y’were so fascinated by my tits, Margera.” His last name came out of your mouth like it pained you to say it, acrid on your tongue. Scoffing, you cooed with faux sweetness, sliding closer to him and whispering in his ear, “I-I mean, if you really wanted, y’could give ‘em a feel…” Two can play at that game. Bam found your jab funny, laughing bitterly as he playfully shoved you away, “Oh, no way in hell am I touchin’ you.”

So after a few minutes of small talk, you went back to bed, and so did he, but that exchange didn’t leave your mind. There wasn't an atom in your body that wanted to be felt up by Bam of all people, but you were still pissed that he wrote you off that fast. You saw the girls he took to the bathroom of the tour bus every night and they had nothing on you. Then there was the matter of why he was staring at your tits in the first place. Was he checking you out? Something hot bubbled in your stomach that you were sure was hate at the thought of that. God, it was too late to be thinking like this, you thought, pushing it from your mind and burrowing deeper into your sheets as you tried to get some sleep.

You felt like shit the next day, but the show must go on, three hours of sleep or not. Thankfully, the bus stopped at a Love’s truck stop on the way there- you would be surviving on a gas station coffee and a prayer. Everyone filtered out of the bus, buying snacks and toiletries or whatever they needed. That left you, lingering by the trucker showers with Mike Valley. You split a bag of Hostess Donettes while he waited for his turn, discussing some fight he got into at the bar last night. Smiling, you licked the powdered sugar off of your fingers and joked about it being the breakfast of champions. He laughed, but just as you looked back up from the now empty bag, your eye caught something.

Perfect fucking timing. The door to the men’s swung open at just the right moment for you to see Bam in all his naked glory, thankfully only from behind. It wasn’t rare for you to see him shirtless, especially when you were skating together in the heat of touring season, but you only just now realized how muscular his back was. His tan skin had contours like a bronze sculpture, shitty black fleur de lis tattoos winding down his sides as he toweled away the last glistening remnants of his shower. Before your eyes reached his ass you tore your gaze away, gagging in mock disgust, crumpling up the empty bag and throwing it in the trash.

There was this weird look in Bam’s eye as he handed off the shower key to Tim, taking his place next to you on the beige wall as he pulled his shirt over his head, “You got a little something there.” He gestured to the side of your face and you licked off the remaining powered sugar, cracking a smile as you mumbled, “Oh, fuck off.” Bam held his hands up in mock surrender as you could hear the shower turn on in the other room, the only noise in the otherwise silent hallway, “Hey, no need t’get all defensive! I mean,“ You could feel his long, half-wet hair dangle on your forehead as he leaned in closer, his voice teasing as he reached down to do up his belt, “especially with how you were pervin’ on me in the showers. I’d say you owe me an apology.”

You turned to him, glaring at his stupid grinning face under the fluorescent lights, “First of all, it was an accident. Second of all, I can barely stand the sight of your naked ass without hurling!” He just snickered at your joke that wasn’t even all that untrue as you rolled your eyes to keep them from lingering on the heartagram splayed out on his lower stomach, “And pull your damn pants up. Hope you bust your ass out there today.” Bam shrugged, walking down the skinny hallway, “Sure. Don’t break a nail out there, sweetheart.” That just left you, watching him leave.

The next time you saw pretty boy was under the signing tent, a respite from the blazing sun and asphalt. Your seat just had to be next to Bam, all sweaty and glistening from skating yet somehow not looking as gross as some of the other guys did. MTV star magic, you guessed. You were wondering why the hell you needed to do skate exhibitions in the ass crack of summer when some nerdy looking teen girl handed you a board to sign. Sure, you weren't Tony or Bam, who each had a line of their own nearly twice the size of the rest of the team’s, but you were generally pretty popular. The girl with the glasses was all smiles, leaning in close to you like she was going to ask you something secret, “Hey, I read somewhere that you and Bam, uh- that you had a thing together. Is that really true?”

Bam, who was sitting next to you and well within earshot, scoffed, leaning over with a sneer as you scrawled silver sharpie onto the board, “I’d rather tongue a maggot than Y/N.” You scoffed as you popped the cap back on the pen, “Yeah, the only maggot here’s that thing in your pants.” It was then, as you turned back to the fan who was awkwardly standing there, watching your little lover’s quarrel go down, that you got an idea. A malicious grin spread across your lips as you handed the signed board back to her, “But if you were wondering, I am dating Tim O’Connor. Thanks for being a fan!”

God, if you could see Bam’s face. As much as it pained you to not look over at him, you didn’t, knowing it would be impossible to keep a straight face seeing him all slack jawed. The best part of it was you weren’t dating him- well, not yet, but you didn’t even need to for what you had in mind. Hell, knowing Tim, he’d be game for fucking with Bam any day of the week, even if it mean having to hug and kiss and pretend flirt from time to time. This was the ultimate way to get back at Bam for fucking with you for so long, you thought- your ace in the hole.

You told Tim your plan and he was more than eager to get in on it. You would come up with ideas on the fly whenever you knew Bam was watching, whether it was having you wear one of his shirts on the bus or you giggling when he messed up your hair while you stopped for food on the road, or even the night you shared a bunk- one of your favorites, especially with how pissy Bam looked as he angrily slid the curtain closed on his bed when he saw the two of you. Basically anything you would see in a cheesy romance movie, you did.

But if you thought Bam was a childish asshole before, you had no idea how much worse he could get. No matter where you were, he always seemed to have his eyes on you, glaring under heavy lids across the room. Even though he was still performing well, off the ramps he was this little ball of rage, quietly observing with raised hackles. Gone were the pranks with the team and the playful banter between the two of you. Bam was a tyrant before and even more so now, only a little quieter. He avoided you like the plague, so the only form of communication between the two of you was the sporadic spitting of insults at one another just short of an argument- he’d say something about your appearance, you’d jab at some trick he messed up, and then he’d tell you to fuck off.

His behavior became so uncharacteristic that, at one point, Tony, who was often the only voice of reason, tried to take him to an urgent care because he was obviously sick. Yeah, maybe that’d be a good idea, you thought, a medical professional would probably know how to get that stick out of his ass. No, not in the slightest did you care that you hurt Bammy Boy’s precious little feelings. He was a jerk to everybody, you thought, so he deserved it. It was only after a few weeks of this charade that you started to wonder why the hell he was being such a baby about all this. Bam just seemed to radiate jealousy, especially towards Tim, but there was no way that was the case. It sounded like something straight out of third grade- that boys are mean to girls they like. But, knowing Bam, you couldn’t write that off immediately.

All this tension kept building for a while until it reached a fever pitch. The team had an off day so you all decided to stop by a skate park late in the day to kick back and chill for a few hours before you needed to get back on the road again. The chance to bust out a few tricks without the judging eyes of thousands was a breath of fresh air and everyone was all excited as they filtered out of the bus onto the concrete- that is, everyone except Bam. The little prince of darkness shot you a scowl before he ran off to the bowl with the rest of the guys while you ran off on your own. You were on the mini ramp, enjoying some rare alone time while doing a few simple tricks and thinking about how you could probably run to the Wendy’s across the street to get dinner- one of those baked potatoes would really hit the spot. It was in the midst of that thoughtful silence when you were poised on the coping in a nose stall that the clatter of a board slamming against the ground behind you hit your ears.

You were startled and, turning towards the sound, you felt the ground slip out from under you as you shifted your weight ever so slightly. The world seemed to freeze for a moment as you plummeted to the ground, landing square on the lip with a blunt packing noise, busting your cheek open. The air was knocked out of your lungs as a choked gasp escaped you, reaching up to grasp the raw skin pounded flat against your throbbing cheek bone. Your vision was a blur of orange from the setting sun as you wrenched your eyes open, tilting your head up towards the source of the shadow that looked over you.

“Nice spill.” Struggling to your feet, Bam didn’t even offer to help you, just standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching. Something red hit the concrete when you spit, rubbing off some of the hot liquid from your cheek as your gaze met his, “The fuck’s your problem?” Coughing, your voice was rough, words punctuated by heavy breath as you continued, “You’ve been all pissy for weeks, man. What’s goin’ on?” There was an edge to his voice but he still sounded calm as he reached into his pocket for his pack of Marlboro Lights, still not making eye contact, “Maybe I don’t like seein’ you and Tim eatin’ each others faces- ever thought about that?”

Snatching the cigarette from his fingers, his fingernails painted in that stupid black nail polish he always wore, you growled, “Is that it? Really?” You got all in his angry little face, close enough you could smell the shitty cologne he wore to impress chicks that always made you gag. MTV fuckin pretty boy, always looking his best. Your voice dropped low, murmuring close to his skin, “Maybe you’re just jealous’a him. That he gets to have me and you don’t.” Bam finally met your gaze, staring at you with newfound intensity as the lines between teasing and flirting blurred. He spoke through gritted teeth as he glared down at you bitterly, “Oh yeah? Yeah? You think I can’t fuckin’ have you?” You said nothing, defiant.

Time stood still, but in a second, he was on you. Bam’s hands seized you, tugging you impossibly close to him as his calloused palms traveled up and down your body possessively. It was like something snapped inside of him that was holding him back. You could feel the muscles under his clothes flex as your breath hitched, one of his hands tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. Bam kissed like a starved man, his tongue moving against yours in a lecherous mess of teeth and spit and a little blood on your part. The air swam with a mix of rage and lust as you pulled away from each other after what felt like an hour, catching your breath. Your eyelids fluttered as a weak smile spread across your kiss-sore lips. Whispering under your breath, you leaned your forehead against his, “Holy shit…”

Glancing down at the cigarette still in your hands, you slipped it between your teeth, looking back at him, “Gotta light?”

[thingsidrawgohere]

I just finished my first run of DA4 and let me say- I probably got my money's worth. If one wants to view the experience via a purely mercantile lens. I found many bits of cheese and touched the insides of many angry creatures. But if one wishes to frame the thing as Art- Hell, if one wants to solely discuss it as the Fourth in a series of lore-dense, narrative RPGs, then, Cousin, We've Got Problems. Three interconnected niggling ideas that kinda all lead to the conclusion- for me, at least- that modern design practices simply do not trust the player. News flash, right?

Anyways, I think I'm going to have some thoughts on this subject to avoid other thoughts, thank you.

Full-Throated Spoilers Beyond. And a lot of them. It's long.

Idea 1: DA2 is my favorite of the series. That's not the problem; it's the setup. I know what I'm about and it's interesting characters interacting over time. Flawed characters. Abrasive, opinionated, STUPID ASS ANDERS characters. The story was scaled well for a handful of total losers and it was political. The most humanly political of all the games, I think. That's a very low bar, particularly for AAA, but it felt better to stand in a street, to be personally effected by events, than to look at a literal map of icons and notes and distant decisions as in DA3. It's important, I think, for DA to be about Being, Getting Dirty. You aren't a king. You shouldn't be.

Side Note 1: DA2 is a fucking miracle. The old gag that FO New Vegas, blessed be, was made in 18 months is trotted out to display Can-Do Attitude and DEEPLY unethical labor practices. DA2 got less time, fewer reusable assets (due to a different art style), and had to rebuild most of the engine. A. Miracle.

DA4, on the other hand, has a series of supportive, well-adapted people who have all worked very hard on themselves in therapy and know all the fucking right words to say. They chat with one another with kindness and sober fondness. In the One Instance of interpersonal friction, it is resolved with grace and speed. I find this Horrid. They fucking forgot to give these people negative traits. It's likability slurry. They experience no hard growth, hold no horseshit ideas, suffer no lingering doubts. It's not only unnatural but it's lifeless. It becomes Written. I can see the fucking author waving at me. I've got a note from my run that reads 'Rook told the man who is forcibly living inside his head "Thank you sharing that" and I want to scream.'

And that would be bad enough except the ideas are there. You've got a reluctant father story. Someone trapped between two cultures. A older man, already terrified of aging, of death, taking a Much Younger lover. That's Fucking Meat. I can see the writers straining against something but what they deliver is still person-shaped missed opportunities that repeat, that repeat, that repeat. It's So Frustrating. There's flashes of Good Writing. Of good character beats. But Also- from my notes, a character had just held her brother as he died, inexplicably for a second time, and Rook gives her a little pep talk that ends with him asking "You good?"

And the fucking woman says "I'm good" in response. She seemed to mean it.

How does one- react to that as a viewer? I told a man who wanted to be a lich more than anything to Not and he was cool with it. He never brought up being a lich again. He wasn't even upset. I let a man's city die and he's like I Get It, Bro. No Harsh Vibes. It rings hollow.

Talking over Solas' memories, collectively pulling out the meaning behind them- that was some of the best characters-interacting writing in the whole thing. And it's HOURS into the game. A shame.

Side Note 2: A lot of a loved-one death as motivation in this old refrigerator. If you get a name and one line, Oh Boy Brother, you are prolly gonna die bad. Lazy.

If I'm going to talk about Emmrich, let's talk about his romance. I honestly thought it was bugged. I Am playing through another run as a comparative but Wow. Larian and BG3 absolutely reconfigured what's acceptable in these types of story beats. This particular romance felt regressive, in a sense. Like a last minute addition. The very definition of love coins. No charisma or honest affection between the characters. Nothing allowed to percolate (more on that in a second). Just- now you are ROMANCED. Which means on the Blue Moon instance he has anything to say regarding being in a relationship, the best you can get is a 'dearest' at the end of a sentence. I was Excited by the idea of Emmrich really struggling with a May/December situation but he Doesn't. He has a few lines implying that he Could but it leads nowhere.

And they fuck in a coffin (???) and it's not even hot (!!!). Unforgivable. Double Unforgivable. I heard there was spice in this game? This is baking soda.

Related, a few lines awkwardly dodged the question of Emmrich's previous relationships and I have an inkling, without experiencing the other romances, that this is the world's largest case of gun-shy after the backlash with DA3's non-playersexual romances. This man can not be confirmed to be Anything but Into Rook, whatever they might be. There was also a throwaway line with Taash how she prefers women and that's as much as I saw of explicit preferences. I don't envy anyone trying to address the rabidity of fandom but it feels like unnecessary acrobatics.

Side Oh No: It's so bad that I'm honestly thinking of doing a fixit fic regarding the romance/character writing. And God, I can't right now. I have to finish my other project first.

Idea 2: The pacing. That's what ruins so much. There was a scene of a gnarled, fucked-up gate, torn from its hinges. And my guy says "Something Big must have torn apart that gate" all ominous, building a sense of- Nope. The very big darkspawn is standing ten feet away on the other side. I hadn't even swung the camera around the hall to see it before my guy goes "That big darkspawn must have torn apart the gate!"

Yes, I know there's an issue in open world games these days wherein devs are allergic to a player's millisecond of not knowing where to go but this feels applicable across the whole game. A problem isn't allowed to fester. It is brought to attention and then swiftly dealt with. If there's a locked door, a difficult decision, a feeling beyond Protestant determination, it will be dealt with, Post Fucking Haste. It's like the game doesn't trust the player to hold tension.

This happens not just in barks or small set pieces. Whole arcs work this way. Like Harding's longterm personal quest. She gets a handful of lines about feeling vaguely angry or perhaps thinking she Should be More angry about Lore Dump Retcon and then at her culmination, she's fighting her own anger. A vicious, hot, searing thing- and it wasn't earned. At all. There was room to telegraph this theme, bury it in the dirt to let grow roots. They didn't. One Line was given about her people pleasing tendencies And she's not really shown to be people pleasing to her own detriment. This is Chekhov's Gun in running shoes. It doesn't work. It feels like it comes out of left field.

Hell, there was a mission that was like SURVIVE IF YOU CAN and it was like- literally a long hallway. The Pacing is all Off.

Idea 3: I don't like that I must do this but DA4 doesn't understand its own flavor. The One Thing you Cannot Do is have Minrathous, the city of slaves and blood mages, seem nice. Particularly in the poor parts of town. You Cannot have the Crows be a lovely dovey band of scamps. You Cannot have the Blight be reversible. You Cannot CANNOT say "elves have it pretty good" as my Elvish Rook said with his face flaps. No. NO. You Cannot side-step the politics of this setting. These are the bones on which these characters are hung. To lessen the world is to lessen, to decomplexify them.

You know what my elf didn't hear in the town that canonically trades in bodies that look his? Knife ear. Eh to fantasy slurs but my point is no one said a cross word to my guy. The Qunari living in the town that had been warring with the Qunari for Centuries seemed totes fine. There were no alienages. There were no proper templars- even from other regions. No Mage Circles. No mage issues at all. Hardly anything whatsoever regarding the Chantry or Andrastianism, even as the game takes place in the Super Anti-Pope town. I had a literal demon-possessed man in my party and the world did not react.

I had a friend describe this Thedas as feeling smoothed out and Yeah. It feels like all the nasty bumps have been deemed undesirable. I don't know what to make of it. Is this simply taking the world in a different direction? Is it a mandate to tone down the unpleasantness, for sales? A shift in design ethos? Is this a sign of a very troubled project as it was with Andromeda?

I don't know. Is this still a Dragon Age game without its politics? There's enough here for me to wonder if Bioware is even Bioware anymore. There's a TREMENDOUS amount of work, of skill in DA4. Just Absurd. The environments are thick, Thicc. But work alone is not a virtue. Have we ship of Theseus'd so far that the people- the real people, not the logos- who have interests aligned with what made DA1 special are no longer there? Something went wrong with this project, narratively. Something I don't know how to fix without addressing basement level assumptions I'm clearly not privy to. I hope they can.

Final Thoughts: Game development is a fucking hole into which one pours one's relationships, time, and health, physical, mental both. It gives satisfaction very rarely. They shipped. In that way, huge success. It's not even, fundamentally, a 'bad game'. But it is a victim of a modern philosophy of pre-chewed ideas and player distrust. VGs are ultimately a business and, in these last few years, there's been a unimaginable devastation to the workers in the industry- even as the money flows ever upward. The desire to sell well has morphed into a NEED to sell well, even among the 'kept' studios. Big studios, Grand Dame Studios sitting on top of past critical and financial successes, been killed by their overlords recently. No one is safe. It's suddenly quite dangerous for large studios to make anything remotely niche, remotely unclear and Bioware has both Andromeda And Anthem under its belt. They're probably feeling the pinch. They needed a hit and hits, these days, are increasingly smooth. And DA4 is very smooth.

That's just my feeling on the matter. I'll see what a second run yields.

Smaller thoughts:

I don't care about the combat but that was- odd. The illusion of depth with all the skill trees and types of damage and subsystems of attack- all boiling down to a one button push. It's odd. I played rogue on PC so perhaps it's different for other classes, on console. But I pressed the button at the man and when I got a halo, I pressed another button and then pressed the first button again. No matter where I was on the skill tree, it never changed, never felt different. I don't know. It felt. Odd?

There was a Honest To God "It's quiet- Too quiet" and it just Happened. I would have pulled out every one of my teeth to avoid that. I get the jokey-okey but fuck, man.

Where's the chest hair? WHERE? Body hair? ANYTHING? Davrin has plastic chest. It's freaky.

Gloom Howler Gloom Howler Gloom Howler. Frankly, that whole storyline had a large gulg of the farcical. I laughed my ass entirely off when, upon her defeat, the Gloom Howler said "I'm sorry" and took a nap so hard that the scene wiped to 'some time later'. That was insane editing. PACING. And- naming. Gloom Howler. Gloom. Howler.

Teeth. Dear God, the teeth.

The devs were in a real pickle here, no doubt. My great sympathies. There's an Overwhelming abundance of world states that DA3 could have left on the board and I understand the balancing act between acknowledging the events of older games and staying generic enough DA4 could apply to All of them. Is Cassandra the White Divine? Or is Leliana? It's a nightmare of choices. Any of the people that Could be Divine can not be mentioned without lore issues. Who's on the throne in Orlais? Ferelden? Where's beloved so-and-so? Dorian canonically did return to Minrathous so he can 'safely' appear in game- but he fucking can't talk about Iron Bull, who may or may not be alive. Isabela canonically goes back to piracy but she can't talk about events in Kirkwall because she may not have been there for them. Oof. That's not a lot you are Allowed to acknowledge. The Poor Bastards.

Watched a braid slip off a person's shoulder, organically, as they were talking. Started at the bottom and look where we're at, technologically. And speaking on the technical, a lot of textures didn't load right. For the entire game, my guy's left shoulder armour thing had a much lower rez texture than the rest. Three hard crashes, which isn't the worst. One Wonderful mission wherein Lucanis' hair and his knives were the only bits of him to render.

I'm not touching the non-binary storyline. It was clunky, for sure, but the greatest sin was using Our words. There is canonical words for NGC/NB people in fiction and to not use them shows a fundamental distrust towards the source material and the players both. It's the linguistic version of the quest marker or the barks telling you where to go.

I still don't know how I feel about the dead Varric twist. Feels goofball but he got to hang out in his little pajamas. I wish I was in little pajamas.

Solas was pretty fucking tight but I think a lot of that was due to his VA. Something about the voice direction, in general, felt- flat? But old Solas was doing it good.

Ending. God, I get it. People are tired and satisfying endings are hard. And DLC exists, more cynically. But Hells Bells, I'm getting to the point wherein even the slideshow is annoying. Give me a fucking Ending to the Choice Game. Don't you fucking 'Spider-Man Will Return' at me, you bastard. I'm a child of fucking god.

Yes, I got the secret ending. I know. That was Also bullshit.

I feel better getting that all out of my system. Thank you for sharing that.

[luvergirl141]

SOON YOU'LL GET BETTER -- PART TWO

First of all, thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed part one, which is linked here! For those who don't know, this is a fanfiction written from Peeta's POV about Katniss and Peeta's time in the cave.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! As always let me know what you think, I am always open to criticism.

We also reached 15 followers! Love you all soo much <3

Something is wet on the back of my neck when I wake up.  I’m freezing cold again.  My eyes flutter open and I see that I’m back in the cave.

“Peeta…”

Katniss’s voice sounds far away.  I gasp and push myself up a little, coughing.

“Peeta, lay down.”  I can’t process what she’s saying.  I’m coughing, and then I’m gagging and I put my right hand to my mouth and when it comes away there’s bright red on it.  I realize I’m shivering again.  It’s so cold.

“Peeta,” Katniss says firmly.  She puts a hand on my chest and lays me down gently.

“Something’s–”

“--wrong.  I know.  Try to relax.”  My chest moves up and down quickly with panicked breaths.  The back of my head is still wet.  I put my left hand on the back of my head and gasp in pain.

“You blacked out.  I had to drag you back here and the back of your head got cut on the rock.  Don’t touch it.”

My hand is shaking when I pull it away.

“Is it–” I start to talk, but the pain in my leg suddenly registers again and all I can do is groan.  Katniss puts a hand on my forehead, soothing me.

“....I think it’s internal bleeding.”

“From the rock?”

“....yeah.”  Katniss brushes the hair out of my face.

“Wh-what’s the cure?”  

Katniss shakes her head.  “My mother says that in the capitol, they do surgery for it.  But…”

But….oh.  Oh.  That’s when I get it.  People in twelve can’t get the surgery, so they just die.

“I’m going to…”

“You won’t.  I’m gonna keep you alive.”  I press my lips together and search Katniss’s face.

I still feel afraid.  “You promise?”

I see Katniss look down.  I can’t read her.  “I promise,” she says.  I don’t feel entirely convinced.  But I don’t feel like I’m on the brink of death, either.  Still, I’m exhausted and groggy.

I close my eyes slowly but suddenly feel Katniss’s head next to mine.  My body tenses when I hear her whisper.

“Listen, Peeta.”  Her voice is so low I can barely pick it up.  The cameras 

certainly can’t.  Her lips are practically touching my ear.  My eyes open.  She continues, “I think we can get some kind of medicine that’s gonna cure your internal bleeding.  But we need to be in love.”

I just nod silently.  I know for Katniss it’s a total farce.  She’s not in love with me.  She never has been.  But what I said to Caesar Flickerman wasn’t far from the truth.  There is a more pressing issue, however – the cut on my leg.  Right now it’s causing me a lot more pain than anything else.  But Katniss knows that.  So why…

“I know your leg is worse.”  Damn.  It’s like she can read my mind.  “It’s gonna be 

a lot harder and more expensive to get medicine for that, so we should focus on medicine for your bleeding right now.”

I just nod again.  My stomach and chest are throbbing now that I think about it, but it still pales in comparison to the pain in my leg.

Katniss sits up.  “The sun is starting to set.  You should try eating again.”  I shut my eyes and sigh.

“I can’t eat anything, I’m telling you, Katniss.”  I open my eyes and look at her.  “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“You can just sleep, then,” Katniss says.  I nod.  I’m completely exhausted.

Katniss leans forward and kisses me on the lips.  My hand moves to the side of her head, leaning into it, savoring it.  A shudder wracks my body and my heart jumps. But as quickly as it started, it’s over.  I put my head back on the rock and see Katniss smiling.

“Goodnight, Peeta.”

“--wait.  I want your s-sleeping bag,” I say.  Katniss bites her lip.

“Your fever could get worse,” Katniss says.  But she can see how much I’m shivering.  “...alright.  But we both have to share it.”  I nod and watch as Katniss takes the sleeping bag out of her backpack.

She gently puts it around me, then climbs in next to me.  I roll over onto my side.  She’s tiny compared to me, but I feel like she’s protecting me now.  I put an arm over her waist.  My shivering is starting to calm down now that I’m in the sleeping bag.  Katniss’s hand goes to the side of my head, petting my hair.

My eyes fall shut.  Katniss sighs.  I’m too tired to stay awake any longer. —--

I wake up slowly.  I’m freezing, and Katniss…is gone.  My breathing picks up.  I start to sit up and look around the cave. I can’t see her anywhere.

She’s left me.  My chest hurts.  I draw in a shaky breath and feel tears welling up in my eyes.  Of course she would.  Of course she left me.  Why wouldn’t she?  I was holding her down.  She was having to take care of me and herself.

Just like everyone back home has given up on me, she has too.  I can’t believe I let myself think that she would stay with me until the games ended.  Tears stream down my cheeks.

My mother gave up on me at a young age.  She decided I was too soft, too emotional, not strong enough.  I’d cry whenever one of our pigs died.  I’d cry whenever I was in pain.  I’d cry when I heard of people in twelve dying.  My mother would scream at me, or come and hit me.  

My friends thought the same thing.  On my fifteenth birthday, I planned a gathering at the bakery for my group of friends.  No one showed up.  I spent the whole day crying.  Eventually, I found new friends.  But my heart always ached, my eyes always stung when I saw my old group.  

Katniss has given up on me now too.  I shake with a sob and cross my arms over my chest.  What was I thinking?  She’d stay with me and take care of me like a child until the games were over?

No.  Of course not.  She doesn’t love me.

Hot tears run down my cheeks and I don’t have the energy to wipe them.  I cry until I have no tears left.  I lay for hours.  It’s pathetic.  I can only hope the cameras aren’t on me now.

Tears run down my face until I am numb.  Finally, I catch my breath.  I lay still for minutes thinking about how Katniss has betrayed me.  My eyes are swollen and they ache.  My whole body is shaking as I realize that Katniss has not only left me, she’s left me for dead.  Before she found me I was going to die.  Without her, I am going to die.

I start crying again when this hits me.  My life is over.  Nothing I’ve done has mattered.  I will only live to be sixteen, and I will be sixteen forever.

I am utterly alone, and that is how I am going to die.  I feel something warm running down the side of my leg.  I’m bleeding again.  Tears roll down my face.  My lips are numb.  My eyes feel like they’re being stabbed.  My heart is racing.  I squeeze my eyes shut and suddenly feel something on my shoulder.

It’s Cato.  He’s come to kill me.

“Peeta.”

……

……

…..It’s not Cato.

“Kat…Katniss?”

“Peeta, what happened?”  I look up and see Katniss’s face, dark with worry and reaching for my hand.  It’s out of my control, I sob loudly and reach for her face.

“Katniss…”

“What?  Peeta, I’m here.  What’s wrong?”  Katniss wipes my tears with her thumb.

“I…I thought–”  I pause, gasping.  “You left me.”

“I just went to get some food for myself.”

I draw in a shaky breath and wipe my eyes.  Katniss kisses me on the forehead and brushes the hair out of my face.

“You’re burning, Peeta.  It’s the fever that’s making you think this way.  We need to get it down.  We need…” ….we need medicine medicine.  We need a gift from the sponsors.

My chest moves up and down quickly.  I’m still crying, still breathing heavily, panicked.  Katniss sees this and she puts a hand on my shoulder.

“You’re ok, Peeta,” she says, placing another kiss on my forehead.  I use the back of my right hand to wipe my tears.  “I’m here.  I’ll keep you safe,” Katniss’s voice is shaking.  

“I’m sorry–”

“--No, don’t be.”  Katniss leans in and hugs me.  “I’m so sorry I scared you like that.”  Her hand goes to the back of my head.  “Breathe.  Just breathe.  It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Something about a promise calms me down greatly.  It means something.  It means there’s meaning behind what she says.

“Okay?” She whispers, pulling away from the hug.

“Okay.”  I wipe my eyes again.  Katniss smiles slightly.

Suddenly, I hear a bit of beeping.  Katniss perks up.  “I think it’s a gift from the sponsors.  I’ll be right back.”

Katniss exits the cave.  She gets out of my line of sight for a few seconds, and when she’s back in my sight, she’s carrying a box with a parachute attached.  She crawls up to me and opens it.

Inside, there’s a small clear bottle with yellow, thick liquid in it.   As Katniss pulls the bottle out, there’s a small note below it.  She holds it up to me.

  Fever medicine.  Temporary.

Temporary?  Does that mean it’ll only work for a few hours?  

Katniss unscrews the lid and hands the bottle to me.  My hand is shaking as I lift it to my lips and drink.  It’s flavorless, but the texture still makes me nauseous.

“Can you keep that down for a few hours?  It is a liquid..” Katniss asks, taking the bottle from me.  I look down.

“Probably not,” I say truthfully.  I already feel like throwing up again, and we’re nowhere near a few hours.

“Just try, ok?  This is important…until we get something for the internal bleeding, this is how we’re gonna fix the fever.”

I press my lips together.  I don’t want to be sick again.  I hate it.  It scares me.

I look down at my lap.  Katniss puts her hand on my thigh but pulls it away, surprised.  “Peeta, your leg is bleeding again.  We need to take a look.”

She reaches for my waistband.  “Lift up.”  I lift my bottom so she can pull my pants down.  It’s vulnerable being in my underwear in front of Katniss – actually, in front of the whole country – but it’s not a really big deal to me.  And Katniss clearly doesn’t care.

Katniss hisses through her teeth when she sees my leg.  It looks a lot worse than before.  My whole thigh is covered in blood.  I shut my eyes and try not to throw up.  I really don’t like the sight of blood.

“It’s ok, Peeta.  We’re gonna fix it.”

“How?” I ask.

“Can you take off your shirt?” Katniss asks.

“What?  Why?”  I’m completely taken aback.

“My backpack came with a pocket knife.  I can cut off a strip at the bottom.  Use it as a bandage.”

“...oh.  Yeah.”

I take off my jacket and put it behind me before slowly taking my shirt off and handing it to Katniss.  I’m really freezing now, trying not to fall over with my shaking.  Katniss gets the pocket knife from her backpack and cuts off the very bottom of my shirt, then hands it back to me.  “Put this back on.”  I pull the gray shirt over my head.  It’s a little shorter than before, but it still keeps me warm.  I put my jacket back on.

Katniss lifts up my thigh gently – I gasp and she apologizes – and puts the makeshift bandage under my leg, then wraps it around the top.

“Be gentle..” I say softly.  Katniss nods.  

She’s gentle, but it hurts like hell as she ties a knot, closing the two sides of the wound together.  Blood oozes out and I can’t help myself as I lean over and throw up at the sight.  Katniss finishes tying the knot, then puts a hand on the back of my neck.

“I’m sorry…” I say softly.  I wanted the fever medicine to work.

“It’s alright…maybe I shouldn’t have bandaged your leg right after you took it,” Katniss sighs.  She’s taking the blame, but we both know it’s my fault.  I shouldn’t have looked.  Actually, I shouldn’t have let myself get beaten by Cato.  Then I wouldn’t even have this fever…at least, I think the fever was caused by the internal bleeding.  What else would it be?

Katniss hands me her water bottle.  “Wash your mouth out.  I’ll clean everything up.  Why don’t you move closer to the opening?  I’ll clean up the blood and vomit.  Just try and get some rest.”  I nod.  Katniss comes behind me and lifts me up, moving me forward close to the cave’s entrance.  She takes off her jacket, folds it, and hands it to me.

“You can rest your head on this,” Katniss says.  I nod and put it below where my head will rest, then lay down.  The sun is starting to set.  I must have been crying for a long time.  

I close my eyes and listen to Katniss humming softly.  I recognize the melody, but through my haze I can’t quite put my finger on it.  It does put me to sleep, though.  My body almost melts into the rock as my consciousness fades away.  No matter how much sleep I get, I’m still tired.

When I wake up, it’s still nighttime, and the footsteps of another tribute are approaching the cave.

[eloiscbridgerton]

Royai fic recommendations in honor of Royai Week 2023!

Just wanted to share some of my all-time favorite complete M and E-rated Royai fics on AO3 ever since getting into the fandom last May 2021. I have a very specific taste (??) in how I envision Royai’s dynamic when they get together, and these fics personally just NAILED it. Like I cannot stress enough how every Royai fan should read these! Without further ado...

Starve the Ego, Feed the Soul by onthearrow (95k words, E)

“Something has changed between them since the Promised Day.”

This has to be my all-time favorite. Like it’s a bit insane how good this fic is. Roy and Riza pining for each other ... in the most pathetic horny manner. Also the smut here... will leave you a bit gagged, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever read before. The author definitely did not hold back LMAO. So many moments in this fic where I had to put my phone down a bit just because I was so 😳😳😳 They have two complete Royai fics (including this one) and there’s one on the way for Royai Week 2023. I recommend to read all of it.

morning sun by hot_girl_burner_account (7.5k words, E)

“Roy walks Riza home after a wedding, and she's wearing this dress, and he might as well come up for some tea, and it's getting late, and the roads are icy, and they both run out of excuses.”

OH MY GOD if you’re looking for a fic set sometime after the promised day where Roy and Riza are just waiting for the ball to drop and immediately give in, this is it. The buildup, the context of being after a wedding.. the amount of flirting beforehand..like I know they were gonna fuck but the banter actually made me say OMG JUST FUCK!!! A sweet lil’ one shot that makes you want more.

the secret is to swallow / without expecting hunger to disappear by lantur (45k words, M)

“The fact that Hawkeye is Roy's subordinate is actually the least of his concerns. The least of the reasons why Roy keeps his distance, outside of their working relationship. It is difficult to keep his Lieutenant at arm’s length when all he wants to do is drag her closer and closer to him, pull her deeper into his orbit, but it has to be done.”

Am I the only one who loves it when Roy is pining and jealous and pathetic and he thinks his feelings are one-sided? Well, if you do too, this fic is perfect. Like... omg you’re so dumb Riza loves u !! Also I love that this is written in Roy’s POV

Once by TheFledglingDM (73k words, M)

“It was a longing like obsession, like madness, a yearning down to the bones. Once, he pleaded. Once, she prayed. Just once and I can move on. _ or - riza and roy's relationship over the years. covers childhood, ishval, the series, and post-promised day.”

HHHHHHHHH oh my god.... this fic... I read its entirety in one night! It’s basically a faster retelling of the events of FMAB except it’s entirely in Royai POV where they’re crushing and horny for each other (to specifically TASTE each other). This fic also would have an award if I gave out an award for Most Reread First Kiss, because yes it was THAT good.

First by TheFledglingDM (4.4k, E)

““So, Roy, I was thinking.” Riza said, as straightforward as if this were just another day at the office. Roy tried to speak but could barely produce volume. All he could manage was, “Uh-huh?” “We should have sex now,” Riza told him.”

Set immediately after Once by the same author. This is just sooo... exquisite I fear... Roy is so eager to please and honestly I get him! This can be read as a separate one-shot but honestly the 73k buildup in Once just makes the reading experience for this fic just 100x better

darker than the ocean, deeper than the sea by yourendlessblue (8.9k, E)

She looks up, and meets his eyes, blinking wide at him and demurely smiles, putting on a silent show. There’s power in this, she thinks, that she can affect him practically just by existing.

“Sir?”

“Havoc’s going to pick you up to our room,” he says, perfectly composed and prim. “I’ll see you.”

Roy is a sugar daddy. They both have feelings but they don’t talk about it they just have sex LOL. The way I wish this had a prequel and a sequel!! One of those rare AUs that just makes you want more!!! I WAS LEFT HANGING!! (not really but you get my point)

let’s fantasize from the other end of the line by lantur (10.8k, M)

“Riza receives a late-night phone call from Roy.”

This fic is soooo sensual. They both know what they’re doing is wrong on so many levels but neither of them ever address it so they CAN’T seem to stop. Also the work that lantur has done for the Royai community should be applauded LMAO if I wasn’t trying to keep this list short I would link all of their fics here. 

can we always be this close by lantur (10.9k, M)

“Roy sits in the spot Riza remembers as his favorite, too - in the armchair facing the entrance. He rises as soon as she walks in, striding toward her. “Thanks for joining me tonight, Lieutenant.”

It is silly, but Riza’s heart leaps at the sight of him. He looks pleased to see her, too. “Reginald?” She raises an eyebrow. “Really, Colonel. Could you have picked a stuffier alias?”

Roy and Riza have a rendezvous, or two, during the months of separation leading up to the Promised Day.”

OK LAST LANTUR REC (and last fic for this list) but oh god... this is so sweet and tender and UGH... that first kiss made me feel so warm!!! this fic is more emotional than horny.. but it’s so well done!

HOPE YALL ENJOY AS MUCH AS I DID !

[tillthelandslide]

Worship - Ross Macdonald Smut

A/n: thank this unholy picture for this spur of the moment one shot

Warnings: smut, minors DNI, probably spelling mistakes I literally have not re read this, ive literally just written it bc I am feral for this man

He came to find you the minute he got off the stage, as soon as the two of you were through the door of his dressing room you were on your knees, easily finding his zipper, making light work of undoing it and tugging down his slacks.

"What's gotten into you love?" He chuckles to himself, but his hand is smoothing at the sides of his hair as he looks down at you. The way you flutter your eyelashes up at him has him gulping and biting his lips.

"fuck you look hot" he mumbles more to himself than anything.

"Need you in my mouth" you say, ridding him of his underwear with absolutely no protest from the large man standing above you, his large frame casting a shadow over you. You can see the way his eyes were darkening with every second and eventually the brown is completely taken up by his pupil.

His large, solid member snaps up to his abdomen and you feel yourself salvate at the sight, moaning loudly.

"God you're going to be the death of me" he says, his words turning into a groan when you grasp his member by the base, your lips wrapping around the head of him and sucking.

His hips almost splutter froward, eyes snapping shut before they're rapidly opening again. His hands wrap around your hair, collecting it into a makeshift ponytail as you lower yourself onto his cock.

Your mouth is warm and wet around him and the sounds are driving him crazy.

"Fuck you feel so good" he says, your mouth pulling back before returning to the base of him, taking all you could fit into your mouth and sucking.

"God you're perfect" his words never failed to turn you on but also hyped you up, made you want to always please him just to hear them.

You begin bobbing up and down on him, your moments never wavering, not even when the tip of him hits the back of your throat. That earns a particularly loud groan from him and a tug at your hair.

"good girl.... Such a good girl" this has you moaning around him, you stop at his tip, sucking before bobbing back down again, once again sending him to the back of your throat.

When you come back up you spread your tongue glar against the underside of his cock, licking a stripe up the vein there.

"Fuck" he moans. You look up at him again, the way his biting his lip and pleasure is sketched across his face has you wanting more, so you pull of off him. He's quick to make sure you're okay, thumb wiping at your bottom lip which was drenched in precum and saliva.

"You good love? Doing so well for me" he says and you smirk up at him .

"Want you to fuck my throat" you say abrupt making him groan before his mouth is opening. You see his eyes scan your face, trying to detect any hesitation or teasing. But he sees you're deadly serious.

"Are you sure love?" He asks, gently grasping your chin. When you nod eagerly up at him he smirks.

"What did I do to deserve you aye?" He asks.

"Just look so good all the time. Especially out there on that stage... Need you to fuck my throat Ross" it's the first time you've said his name, heck you practically moaned it and it has him going feral, quickly placing himself in-between your lips. He waits for you to nod one last time, letting him know you were absolutely positive. You nod eager and he thrusts forward, the tip of him hitting the back of your throat immediately making you moan around him.

"oh fuck" he moans, mouth hung open permanently now as he looked down at you.

"so fucking perfect" his thrusting into your mouth rhythmically now, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat every other thrust, you gag but it doesn't stop you from moaning.

Your hand grasps his thigh as his hands are buried in your hair, forcing you up and down his cock.

"look so fucking pretty... Fuck" he shouts now, pleasure overwhelming him. He sees tears running down your face and he can't help but moan.

"you're going to make me cum" he says, a phrase that always has you clenching, soaking through your underwear. This was your doing and that had you thriving.

"Fuck" he grunts, his hips wavering in their movements, you take over, moving your head up and down his cock.

"So fucking perfect... Fuck y/n" he groans, hips spluttering forward as he cums, the warm white liquid shooting down your throat, coating your tongue and mouth. You gently pull back, showing your tongue that's covered in him, the sight has him moaning again, moaning even louder when you swallow it.

He quickly helps you off your feet all before throwing you over his shoulder, taking you to his dresser.

"What are you doing Ross?" You giggle making him smile before you're resting against the wood, the large man stepping between your thighs.

"Want to worship you now, my perfect fucking girl"

[maedhrus]

*pesters you like a cat prodding at a glass of water bc i luv u* 2, 7, 15, 25 & 31 for the fic writer ask game 😘

similar to a cat i am batting at this ask with love and affection! 💕

2. do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

in my early fic-writing days of 2017/2018 i had concepts which i felt were best suited to multi-chapter works but, once i got writing, i either lost momentum/enthusiasm/didn’t have a solid plan or structure, so i’ve kept to oneshots and, as part of this, i tend more to write as i go. however, sometimes for a particular concept i have a strong idea of a couple of key scenes so will write them out briefly first before i return and deal with them sequentially

7. how do you choose which pov to write from?

it’s usually sometimes i either feel a particular pov is the one best suited to a particular fic or the fic exists because i want to get in a particular character’s headspace. like, in maternal instincts, i wanted to look at a genderqueer thomas specifically so had to do it from his pov (which was fun!), then in he has stood the test, jirv’s dead when the fic starts, so it similarly had to be from malcolm’s pov. though, i have noticed that, despite my love for him, i haven’t published a fic that centres on ned’s pov so i’m making a direct effort to rectify that!

15. how do you write smut scenes? do you get visual or detailed? how important is it to be realistic?

for me it comes down to what i like reading in smut! i think it’s hot when specifics like body sweat/hair/muscle aches are described so i always try and include at least some of that. generally, i think as a writer i tend to prioritise dialogue so i always include some sort of dirty talk. in terms of realism, i think it can be hot to get into the specifics of stretches/aches, especially when writing about penetrative sex; i’m also a convert to the inherent sexiness of bad/mid sex so in terms of that (i.e. moments of discomfort, first times, being sore afterwards) i like writing in. but on the whole i don’t really get bogged down with realism in regard to, like, good bdsm practice or the use of condoms/other contraceptives. also i write a good bit of breeding kink so don’t usually highlight birth control there! also i don’t pay that much mind to types of lube in smut fic. is spit ideal? no. is it sexy? very!

25. what fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

all of them. i’m gagging for validation and praise. but seriously, probably scenes from a marriage i think? i put a lot of work into the whole maternal instincts series and sfam has the misfortunate of being written a good bit later on the other two, but it’s also Way more substantive, i think, than hunger pains which is more popular. i also have a couple of really new terror fics, shoulder to tender shoulder and he has stood the test, but they’re only a week old so it’s probably not fair to compare them with stuff i’ve had out for longer. there’s a couple of other fics i’ve written for the silmarillion fandom but i think my terror fics are better written? probably because they’re newer. oh! also borne through the clouds, for any hotd enjoyers. i wanted to do a bit of an introspective piece for helaena and her grief, focusing on her bond with dreamfyre but, especially considering my other two hotd works, the girlies did Not like it as much! possibly because it focused on helaena and not aemond but what can you do

31. do you start with the characters or the plot when writing

probably the characters i think? i usually have a scene or an exchange i see very vividly that i write down and go from there and, while it usually revolves around a particular au/plot/conflict, i think i tend to prioritise the characters in fic because i enjoy writing dialogue and examining dynamics/relationship

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Hi, hello, hola, and happy Stab Caesar Day! Tumblr ate my original draft because, um, I guess its hunger is horrible and insatiable? But here I am for take two. Thank you to @artsyunderstudy, @larkral, and @forabeatofadrum, who tagged me today and who continue to craft delightful things.

Updates on My Good Egg (Good morning, good night, good morning): My plan of posting Chapter 4 today ain't gonna happen. I updated the author's notes, but the next posting date is TBD. I need to focus on my health right now, and then I'll be travelling for a bit (March 24-April 7). But hey, if you've been meaning to read this one, now's a great time to catch up? 🤣

In the meanwhile, I'll share a snippet featuring several of my OCs, Baz's queer, chaotic uni friends. Behind the cut for mild spice. 🌶️

Bunce goes off with Simon so that she can pump the American bartender for information, and as soon as they’re out of earshot, Emma leans forward, her eyes glittering. “Well?”

“Well what.”

“I told Liu and Ramesh you got kidnapped,” Emma says, waving her hand dismissively, “and of course we’re all very worried and hope you’re doing okay and acclimating to regular life again, but have. You. Ridden. That.” 

Baz regrets downing a few rats before they left for the pub, because it means he has enough blood in him to blush. “We’ve been figuring out this kidnapping situation,” he says coolly. “It hasn’t left much time for carnal pursuits.” 

“Baz,” Liu says, aghast. “Why haven’t you fucked that nice himbo? He’s clearly gagging for it - he couldn’t stop staring at your arse in those jeans.” 

“Is he a himbo?” Ramesh says. He pulls out a pen and starts to doodle a triple Venn diagram on a napkin. “He seemed like more of a twunk to me. And he’s got a great bear belly.” 

“Ladies,” Emma says, her hands fluttering in mock-distress, “please don’t objectify that sweet boy before Baz gets to objectify him. Baz will eat his fill of the man-meat and then give us a report.” 

(Please put in the comments/tags if you think Simon Snow is a twunk, a himbo, or something else delightful. 🤣)

Hello tags and tagbacks: @whogaveyoupermission, @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart, @captain-aralias, @fatalfangirl, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @whogaveyoupermission (THE EDGING CONTINUES), @raenestee, @ileadacharmedlife, @shrekgogurt, @hushed-chorus, @shemakesmeforget, @theimpossibledemon, @imagineacoolusername

More about the hiatus for My Good Egg:

(Warning for some hard stuff, Big Feelings, trauma recovery. Feel free to skip and just bask in Ides of March posts instead!)

Okay, so introspective life/writing blather here... I keep meaning to write a post, at some point, about some of the best practices that I follow when I am writing about material that is heavy, like in Baker boxer teacher grief or the Rosethorn girl universe.

A lot of stuff that works for me is probably self-evident: go slow, be gentle, ground yourself, talk to safe people, have a release valve, be able to walk away, offer yourself a lot of self-care and self-compassion, take care of the soft animal of your body. And don't feel like you have to put everything in - some of what you can write can just be for you, and it can be enough to have written it, and not include it in the finished product.

I honestly didn't expect Good morning, good night, good morning to get me where I live. It is, as I've always maintained, a dumb horny rom com (that somehow developed a plot and backstory and plot TWISTS and OCs but ANYWAY). But there was a line in Chapter 3 that kept rattling around in me:

“You were a kid,” Simon says, his voice low and angry. “You were just a kid.” 

This is not the first time I've been triggered by own fic (and probably won't be the last, LOL!), but this one did me a doozy. I've had to take a few steps back, and just focus on recovering from trauma that's been reactivated in my body. It is wild what the body remembers, and how it holds onto pain.

(There is, at the same time, other stuff happening with my family with grief and estrangement and just a whole mischegoss of hard feelings, so that adds another element into the mix.)

To circle back round to My Good Egg: I'm putting it to the side for now while I tend to my health and just recovering from the past few weeks. It's funny - I don't think it's a particularly angsty story or one that does a super deep dive into trauma, but I need to take some pieces off my plate right now, and this fic is one of them.

I will always keep writing - the WIP game has been a delightful brain refresher, and I have a very fun Six Sentence Sunday post that I'm already excited to share. But for now, My Good Egg is gonna have a li'l nap. When I come back to it, I think I'll switch over to writing the second draft in its entirety, and then posting the chapters weekly, whenever that happens. I'm not putting a timeline on it right now.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk making your way through this personal essay, if you've gotten this far. I am continually blown away and delighted by everyone who engages with the fic, and I am so excited to serve you up some treats in the future.

To end on a lighter note, here is an exchange with my spouse, the inestimable EarlobeGreyTea who continues to offer thoughtful and nuanced feedback on this fic, Exhibit A:

EarlobeGreyTea: Did they fuck in this chapter?

Me: No Me: And they didn't fuck in the previous chapter Me: It's the EROTIC Grope Fest. It doesn't have to have explicit sex (yet) EarlobeGreyTea: Yeah, I guess it isn't the Sloppy Fuck Fest

Love you all. ❤️❤️❤️

[pushing500]

I absolutely love your Rimworld saga, I've always wanted to do something like it for one of my colonies but I'm a better writer than I am an artist. Any tips for someone not used to drawing people?

Thank you for the great stories and adorable artwork 💕

Ah, thank you so much!! I'm glad you like the Rimworld stuff, I really love making it, and I'm happy it seems to have found an audience that enjoys it.

As for art tips, here are three things I always try to remember when I'm drawing:

1. It's okay to use references!

I see a lot of people worried about art theft, tracing, and stealing, which are important issues to keep in mind. No artist wants their work stolen, and nobody wants to be accused of tracing or things like that. Certainly valid concerns for all parties.

However, I've noticed that a lot of people avoid using references because of those concerns. It's alright to use references for your artwork! You can and should look for references to practice with. It's not easy to make up every single pose from nothing, but I've seen a lot of artists give up because they can't figure poses out without looking up references, and they feel like that means they're not real artists.

I'm partial to stock photos personally. There are stock photos for every conceivable situation. Behold, one I used just yesterday:

References are good and definitely okay to use. Use them a lot! They're a wonderful way to practice, and it's much easier to make up your own poses and draw people once you're used to drawing the human form from your references.

2. Don't be afraid to be silly!

Not every piece of art needs to be a serious and carefully thought-out commentary on the nature of humanity or society or things like that. Not every piece of art needs to be beautiful, or perfect, or even comprehendible. When I first started drawing art for a Rimworld colony, I was sitting beside my little brother and watching him play. I was doodling pictures of his colonists, and do you know what I ended up with? Nothing deep and meaningful, that's for sure.

I ended up with memes. Memes that are still blu-tacked up where everybody who comes into my house can see them.

I love them. I had so much fun drawing them. That's the important bit! They're ridiculous, silly, stupid memes, and I love them so much because I loved drawing them. Have fun with your art. Don't make it a chore. Be silly. Let yourself enjoy the act of creating, even if you end up with something dumb. That's the best kind of art.

3. Do so much art! So much of it!

The old saying says practice makes perfect, and it's not entirely wrong. I don't think I have ever met someone who has ever created something and decided it was perfect, no matter how much they practised.

However, the more you practice, the better you will be. I would post pictures of my older art to demonstrate the improvement, but I still haven't quite managed to choke back the gag reflex that comes with seeing the old drawings I have tucked away.

Maybe one day, when I'm braver, I'll show you the wonky caricatures of people I used to draw, and you can see for yourself that the more you make, the better you'll get. For now, though, I shall leave you with a tiny sampling of my sketchbook collection and one (1) spooky boi:

I don't know if any of that was helpful. I'm not much of a teacher, I'm afraid, but I do wish you the best with your artistic endeavours! For what it's worth, I'd read a written story about a Rimworld game just as eagerly as I would absorb pictures of it.

Thank you for your lovely compliments, and I wish you the loveliest of days! 💕

[liketwoswansinbalance]

A Dissection: Rafal Has Motion Sickness and It Has Symbolic Significance

I’d call this a hot take, but probably no one has given thought to it? At least, I haven’t seen it anywhere else. So, this might not even be a hot take if there isn’t already a common consensus for its existence or nonexistence. The lines I will refer to could be weird, throwaway, minute-detail, trifling pieces of character trivia. But, Rafal has motion sickness, and I consider it to be close to canon, if not actual canon.

Also, you may be wondering why I’ve glommed onto this particular trait. I projected onto Rafal probably since I also have motion sickness. I’ve never ridden the taller sort of roller coasters, and although I grew out of it, I used to throw up on airplanes.

This character detail will definitely appear in one of my future fics, by the way. The dialogue portion is already written. Unfortunately, that fic is, like, the 7th or 8th in a little series, so no one will see it for a long time, if I ever get that far. I am trying to be as prolific as I can these final days before Fall comes out though. Hopefully, that’ll extend to later fics in the far future.

⸻

Evidence:

“All the while, the Evil School Master bellowed and cursed into his gag, at once furious, incredulous, and motion sick” (201).

“[...] Rafal, who was still inside his bubble, slightly green and shaky from his tumble through the forest” (203).

Possible explanations:

Theory 1 - The motion sickness here could just be circumstantial/almost universal. A type that occurs under such extreme, severe conditions, perhaps. Considering the ordeal Rafal’s gone through, maybe anybody would be motion sick afterward. This would disprove his motion sickness however. And, I would think most people don’t have the stomach capacity to tolerate this type of motion. I wonder if most people would be knocked unconscious, or even be conscious enough to deal with being thrusted and rolled around in a giant prison ball? It could also be Rafal’s immortality as a factor sparing him further suffering.

Theory 2 - Rafal must be in control of his movements and be the “driver,” as a general rule. This could explain why his own flying doesn’t cause him motion sickness, while everything else might. Ok, so he needs to be in control, and applying that on a literal and figurative level just works so well for his character. With the Storian, in his interactions with Rhian, with the prison workers/guards, Aladdin, the other students, and the Pirate Captain, he’s always grasping for control.

Another key to this: the motion would have to be predictable, like his own flight. If he knows the direction he would travel in, then it probably wouldn’t jar him as much, and he’d be able to adjust his body to be in line with that anticipated movement. If he had driven the ball, instead of the matter being out of his hands completely, maybe, the motion sickness wouldn’t have occurred.

As a character, I think he also hates to be directionless and ambitionless, and the motion of the prison ball could have been only radial. Or, directionless/from all directions at once, with lots of conflicting signals in the attempt of maintaining his balance (nonexistent at this point) and disorienting to his eyes and inner ears.

Theory 3 - The whole event could have been a one-time thing, played for comedy. Or, simply, a rare occurrence.

⸻

Final thoughts:

This post is highkey an appreciation post for the prison bubble scene! It was hilarious, and probably one of the best things I’ve ever read. The height of comedy and one of the best scenes in the book, in fact. But, Rise is a masterpiece in my eyes anyway.

And, we get to see Rafal, the practically-all-powerful, dark sorcerer struggle, be trapped, be helpless, and be saved from his own moment of weakness and vulnerability, which is so rare. Because, usually, he has everything under control and locked down, saves Rhian, and is the custodial worker of the Balance. He’s literally lost his balance here though. And, at least, that isn’t as bad as losing the Balance.

Then, the contrast of sorcery vs. electricity. Incredible and ingenious in its own right. The bubble is magic-resistant, no matter what. Repels all magic. Can’t be popped or burst on its own. So, ha Rafal! Checkmate.

And, he can’t even be heard, talk, give others instructions, or lead. He’s a powerful character, and incapacitated in this foreign, spherical-force-field-thing. It keeps him mute! And, he can only communicate through gestures and facial expressions. And, it blocks his usual acidic comments. He’s lost his ability to be snarky and dry! The whole scene is so loud and chaotic!

Also, I’m obsessed with the part where Rafal laughs at trading away the Storian while he’s still in the bubble. So assured, when he has no leverage! But honestly, at this point, the Storian deserves it for duping the brothers.

[scary-senpai]

Would love to hear more about you & me & a high balcony!

Gahh! Thank you so much for the ask. (Original link is here, if anyone wants to join or reblog.)

So, “you & me & a high balcony” is one of the fics I drafted when I was teaching myself to write again. So it's awkward and striving (mostly in the right direction), and still pretty rough--I started writing it in 2020, I haven't really touched it since 2021, and I have learned a whole lot since then. At the same time, it is a fic that is near to my heart and I'm grateful for the opportunity to talk about it! <3

“you & me & a high balcony” is about Genos taking Garou home for the first time--why? tbd! I wrote probably about 100k words of various interconnected fics without fully committing to the unifying concept or plot and I will never, ever do that again. Probably.

Anyway, Genos takes Garou home and neglects to fully inform Saitama. You are getting my draft in its fully unedited glory.

Saitama’s cactus is on the balcony and it is a very, very painful experience for him. In keeping with running canon gags, Saitama is absolutely powerless against this ickle, stationary cactus and he finds himself in an ongoing fight with it, almost immediately. He also gets totally entangled in Genos' camping gear, but put a pin in that, we'll come back to it.

What follows is a series of interspersed scenes between Genos and Garou inside the apartment, Saitama making strange noises outside, Genos fabricating excuses and lying (poorly), and Genos occasionally stepping out on the balcony pretending to be Genos (because, again, Saitama is wrapped up like a sad sandwich in an unpitched camping tent.) In retrospect, it's very clear how much I miss writing for stage, because it feels a bit like an homage to Noises Off (but, you know, prose).

In the spirit of adventure, I am sending an unedited screenshot. With comments boxes! I haven't re-read it in years because I'm too nervous, but you can!

“CW” doesn’t necessarily stand for content warning but I guess it certainly could? CW is an abbreviation of my name so it’s how I highlight “shit I need to go back and figure out.” Being older and wiser, most of my drafts are now just bullet points for me to come back to later, when I have a coherent, unifying thought for the story/fic/series. It has saved me a lot of screaming and tears.

Anyway, Saitama keeps moving the cactus into the apartment. Garou keeps moving it back. Genos has no idea what the fuck is happening, but it’s the least of his problems. Eventually it leads to Saitama and Garou having a heart-to-heart (and agreeing not to tell Genos they met) and, idk, man, I love writing Genos x Garou a lot, but (Platonic) Garou + Saitama scenes are my absolute favorite. I just give them my ideal relationship, which is All of the Hijinks and None of the Sex with someone who finishes your sentences, but all the sentences are puns.

I started drafting the story in 2020, and anything I wrote in 2020 chronicles my descent into madness— inadvertently & indirectly. Suffice to say, quarantine was hitting me very hard and a lot of my behavior was centered around making myself laugh. My serotonin starved brain had a tendency to overload scenes with jokes. Even if they didn’t fit, even if they threw off the pacing. But stories and scenes need to have cohesive plots and it’s silly, to the point of being out of character. Sometimes that's part of the process, though. There's always a lot of love in the first draft of a story, I think, because it's a leap of faith.

I had written a litany of things that embarrassed me about this draft, I deleted it. So I'll share one of the things that I am proud of coming up with--I don't play a lot of video games. I needed a fighting game for King and Saitama to play during a stint of dialogue (the outcome of which involves King lending Saitama Hatoful Boyfriend so that Genos can practice dating (and also he does not trust Saitama with any of his beloved Doki Doki sims). So I thought of the one game I played a lot as a kid (Super Smash Bros) and combined it with something I do know really well (literature) and came up, um, this:

The Body Electric is near to my heart because it was a major part of my writing journey. It was also a major part of my writing journey where I learned a lot, mostly by making mistakes. Granted, it remains largely unpublished so I failed in gracefully private but it is really important to me to finish it one day.

Thank you so much for the ask!

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 8

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven't written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. And then somehow it turned into "I'm going to write a single interconnected story utilizing all of these prompts" which ?????, what can I say, I am incredibly foolish. Anyway I've finished the first draft (it topped out at 88k words) and will be unlocking each post as I edit.

read from the beginning here

Day 7 here

***

47. “Don’t wanna come until I feel you in me.”

126. “Why’d you stop?” “Because you sounded too fucking good and so I had like, a moment.”

***

(nsfw below the cut)

As soon as he'd caught his breath, Damian rolled to trap Tim's upper body under his own, caging him in with his arms so he could brush Tim's face everywhere with delicate kisses, one after another like he was trying to cover every inch. Tim tried not to melt under the tenderness of the gesture and failed utterly. Sure, Damian was getting a gigantic wet spot all over the sheets that was going to be uncomfortable in about two seconds, plus the situation in Tim’s pants was becoming dire, and he might actually die if he didn't get to come soon. But instead of ripping off his clothes and getting to it, his arms wrapped around Damian's neck and pulled him close so Tim could rub his face into his hair like a cat.

What the hell is wrong with me? he wondered, and placed a row of tiny kisses along the line of Damian's jaw.

"Now can I take these off?" Damian tugged at his jeans but didn't actually make a move to pull them down.

"Yeah. Let's do that."

Damian wasted no time getting rid of his remaining clothing. Tim groaned in relief as his erection finally sprang free. Once he'd thrown the jeans and underwear to the floor, Damian eyed him with clear fascination. "Would it be all right if I sucked you off?"

Tim watched his own dick twitch at the question and couldn't help but laugh at himself. "Yeah, of course, we can start with that. Just, you know. Be careful with your teeth and don't gag yourself. It's not as sexy as porn makes it seem and puke isn't one of my kinks."

Damian gave him a mildly horrified grimace and then turned his attention back to Tim's cock. "I've practiced this too. Hopefully I’ll prove proficient."

And without another word, he took Tim down his throat all the way to the root. Tim yelled in shock, curling up and grabbing Damian's head before he could stop himself. Damian ignored him and kept sucking, up to the tip, his tongue pulsing against Tim's frenulum in a way that was probably illegal in some states.

Tim could only let him work his way up and down a couple more times before he grabbed Damian's hair and gently pulled him away. "Don't wanna come till I feel you in me." He was already barely coherent, tongue thick around the words.

Damian nodded, heedless of how the motion tugged his hair in Tim's grip. His hips were pressing into the mattress, and Tim was willing to bet he was fully hard again.

"Wanna be on top this time?"

"Yes," Damian breathed, eyes going big and startled. He moved up the bed and hovered over Tim, but looked uncertain.

"Good." Tim reached for the lube and poured it in his other hand. "I already prepped while I was waiting for you, but--" He gave Damian's erection a couple of quick strokes, keeping it business-like. Damian took a deep breath but didn't move otherwise. "Okay." He wriggled to get more fully beneath Damian. "Let me lead, okay? Just push when I say so."

"Understood."

Tim wanted to chuckle about Damian responding like he was giving mission directives, but they had fucking to do, so instead he guided Damian's erection to his entrance and positioned it. "Go ahead. Slowly, Dami. Take your time and don't force."

Damian bit his lip and tilted his hips forward. After the moment of initial resistance, he slid in the first inch, and his mouth fell open. He whimpered, rocked in a little more, and then when Tim angled his pelvis to welcome him in deeper, moaned, "Tim."

Sudden heat rushed through his stomach. Tim had to grab himself at the base and squeeze hard. "Oh, fuck. Stop stop stop. Don't move." Damian almost never called him by his first name. He hadn't anticipated it would have that much of an effect on him.

Damian watched him, trembling from head to toe but following instructions. "Are you all right? Why'd you stop me?"

Tim slowed his breathing and waited until he was sure he was going to make it. "Because you sounded too fucking good and so I had, like, a moment. You can keep going now, though."

Damian slid forward. There was the usual initial sting, but it faded quickly into undiluted pleasure, and then they were pressed as closely to each other as could be. Damian framed Tim's face with his hands and kissed him again, ardent as if he were silently thanking him for a tremendous favor.

And Tim let him, kissed him back like bestowing a guerdon, ignored the tiny shriek of panic in the back of his brain to hold him tight.

day nine here