#and honestly a few I really don't like but wrote because I know other people do like them

[wisteria-lodge]

Wait the wiki is bad? I use it all the time 😭 I thought the whole point is it's community-run so people should be able to fix any mistakes (and since it's a huge community that's been running for very long it seems quite robust and strict on verifying information) I do get that it has info from the videogames which most people don't regard as canon, though. But when it does it tends to note it as such, and they still consider the books/movies a higher "plane" of canon.

I love reading the wiki, but I do have to do a lot of follow up and sifting if I'm using it as reference. In tends to throw in the video games, JKR interviews, *actor* interviews, and Pottermore content, and sometimes it's organized and clearly marked, but a lot of times it isn't... and that has definitely slipped up my co-writer (whose knowledge of HP isn't as crazy as mine) a few times. Unless you already have a really solid grasp on everything, it's easy to get confused. Like here's someone who wrote into me, asking about a sentence in the Narcissa page that was 1) Poorly written 2) wrong.

The other problem with the wiki is that since it's community run, every page tends to be written by fans of that particular character. This is especially obvious with the villains. Like read through the Lucius Malfoy, or Severus Snape pages. There is so much there that's bending over backwards to give them a positive edit. There's a lot about Lucius' elegant dueling style (no source) and his skill with potions. Like the actual detail is 'Lucius Malfoy mentions having a potion collection in Book 2.' I don't want that extrapolated into 'Lucius Malfoy was a model student who got into the Slug Club because of his skill with potions.' Like let me write my own headcanons! It starts speculating that Lucius got Voldemort monologing on purpose in the graveyard to buy time for Harry!

Snape's page says that one of his skills is writing poetry. He wrote a rhyming logic puzzle in book one, which I would say is not the same thing. It also says he communicates with floriography, which is a reference to a fan theory about how the plants he lists in Book 1 are a coded message about Lily. Like *I* know that. But then the wiki just cites Book 1. That's not in Book 1.

This is actually so common that co-writer @niche-pastiche and I have an in-joke when we attribute any flattering/creative interpretation to Tom Saunders, Wasp Scientist.

Tom Saunders is a New Zealand biologist who named a species of wasp after Lucius Malfoy because:

"People see wasps as villains, as the 'bad guys.' But the truth is that the vast majority of wasp species are either neutral or beneficial, from a human standpoint. Just as Lucius Malfoy is pardoned after separating from Voldemort's allies, I'm asking people to pardon wasps in order to restore their reputation as interesting, important creatures."

Like I get that you like wasps, and Lucius Malfoy, I do too. But that's not info that's in the books.

(It is Pottermore stuff, but I honestly count Pottermore as tertiary canon at *best.* Like every once in a while it'll be a cool detail, but JKR is *not good* at worldbuilding, so most of the time, instead of explaining things... it just makes everything more confusing. And I think that all of this has the end result of accidentally gatekeeping newcomers who want to engage with the material. Like the person who sent that ask.)

[altraviolet]

what are all the (unnoted, possible future and background) pairings within the echo garden?

assuming you're trying to decide if you want to read the fic (??): there are a LOT of hinted at or possible or kind-of/maybe-there? pairings in the fic, and a lot of them are spoilers, which is why they're not in the tags. many of them are written so subtly, if you aren't aware of the pair, or don't like it, it won't register as a pair. that's done purposefully. so like... a list isn't going to do much good, because it really to a certain extent depends on you, the reader.

if you dislike fics with any of the major MTMTE canon pairings (like cygate), or any of the "generally kinda widely acknowledged by fandom even tho it wasn't explicit in the comics" pairings (like simpatico), then this isn't the story for you, because it's meant to be a sequel to the comics

almost everything other than the canon/hinted-at-in-canon pairs would be rarepairs, most of which have never featured anywhere else except in some of my other fics (like, for example, Bluestreak/Hot Spot)

I'll put a short list of non-spoiler pairs beneath the cut

Rodimus/Soundwave (sadly spoiled by necessity...) Brainstorm/Perceptor Blaster/Nautica Cyclonus/Tailgate Chromedome/Rewind Ratchet/Drift past Rodimus/Drift Bluestreak/Hot Spot

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[reiderwriter]

I'm Your Fluffer!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader (best friends to lovers)

For @imagining-in-the-margins FWB Challenge!

Prompt: "I'm your boyfriend without the benefits." "Do you want the benefits?" "Yes- No... I'm your fluffer!" (Inspired by New Girl) (yes, I suggested this prompt, bo idc if that's cheating)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, choking, mentions of spanking, and butt worship, slight Dom Spencer, bratty reader, creampie. The classics, yk.

A/N: I'm back!!!! I took a break because I couldn't bring myself to even look at a word document for about a month, but there's nothing like a Pom challenge to get me writing again! I did have a lot planned for my 1 year anniversary, but because I was sick, and then busy, and then work got hectic, I had to put it off. I still am going to try to finish my kink bingo Carr, though, even though its a month late, but I had two fics left iirc, and I have both of them plotted, so I may as well! I will, however, be abandoning the final epilogue of I Can't Help Myself, because I wrote myself into a depressed corner with that one, and honestly, some people were getting very pushy about it, and it wasn't fun anymore. Anyway! This one was fun to write, so I'm going to stick to one shots for the foreseeable future, or incredibly limited series.

Masterlist

Spencer was your friend. A good friend. Your best friend, perhaps. A really good, very best friend.

Obviously, you were good friends because he always knew when you were feeling down. He bought you flowers regularly when he passed by flower shops. He came over to your place and helped you build every piece of flatpack furniture you had, which, as a single woman in your mid-twenties, was every piece of furniture that you owned.

You really looked forward to the movie nights the two of you had weekly. The popcorn, the blankets, the cuddling, his lips by your ear, in-time translating the foreign movies word for word as you watched it, the shivers down your spine as you pressed further into the heat of him.

Spencer was the best best friend you could ask for.

He was also the most frustrated.

“Kid, what are you doing this weekend? I'm thinking of hitting some clubs, you know, getting my groove on, maybe meeting A few ladies,” Morgan smirked, rubbing his hands together as he gently moved side to side, already dancing to himself as he anticipated his big weekend out. “You in, or are you in?”

“I can't. I promised Y/N I'd help her with some document digitalisation. We're going to order pizza and watch Star Trek while backing up her entire paper trail.”

The smile on Spencer's face was so stupid that Morgan had to stop himself from wiping it off of him immediately.

“Man, you are so down bad for that girl,” he mused, shaking his head.

“What? Down bad?”

“You like her. It's okay to admit it.”

“We're friends. I'm happy being friends,” Spencer said, picking up his bag and walking to the elevator desperate to escape a repeat of a conversation he'd already had three times that week.

“You know everyone thinks you're dating.”

“Well aware. Despite the number of times we've both stated to the contrary, people don't seem to accept ‘we're just friends’ when they hear it.”

“That may be because you're doing things that just friends don't do.”

“Everything we do is totally platonic.”

“You buy her flowers-

“I buy my mother flowers,” Spencer said, turning on the man and raising his hands in exasperation.

“You know that's different. Do you buy Emily flowers?”

Silence.

“What about JJ?”

“I bought JJ flowers!” He grinned triumphantly until the other man spoke again.

“When she was in the hospital. Giving birth. Okay, what about the movie nights?”

Rolling his eyes, the younger man walked on, pressing the bell for the elevator and allowing his friend to keep bothering him.

“Friends watch movies together, Morgan. We've watched movies together, are we dating?”

“One, you are not my type, pretty boy, and two, you didn't exactly have your dick pressed against my ass the entire time we watched a film now, did you?”

“Be q- be quiet. I don't have my dick against her ass ever.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, was it pressed against her stomach instead? I know she likes to lie on top of-”

“Derek!”

The elevator arrived, and the two quickly jumped in, to Spencer's relief.

“All I'm saying, kid, is-”

“Hold the elevator!” You shouted, running to it quickly with Penelope Garcia on your heels.

“Thanks, Spence!” You said, smiling at him as you entered the small space.

And continued your not too unsimilar conversation with Penelope.

“So, as I was saying Penelope,” you shot her a look that told her you were finished with the conversation. You were not dating Spencer Reid, and you were unlikely to in the future because of his total and complete lack of interest in you.

“You can set me up this weekend, right? It's been an age since I've been on a date, and I would really like to-” you glanced around the elevator and whispered the end of your sentence, suddenly mindful of your company. “You know.”

“If you're absolutely sure, I have a few men in mind that could throw you about, but-”

You squealed and squeezed the woman as the elevator landed on your floor and jumped out of the elevator quickly, cheeks burning.

“Thanks, Pen, you're the best!”

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer called out behind you, desperately holding the elevator open for a few more seconds.

“I thought we were doing your papers this weekend? Star trek, pizza, remember?”

You stared guiltily at the floor as you forced your voice to sound as casual as possible, not sure you could make any excuse that didn't sound pathetic.

“Oh, sorry, Spencer. I totally forgot. We can rain check, right? I… I really need this.”

Spencer was aware of what disappointment felt like, but it never hollowed out his chest like your lack of eye contact in that moment did.

“Yeah. Sure, of course. We can do that whenever.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Spencer. You're the best… friend.”

He smiled and let the door finally shut, aware of the two sets of eyes now watching him.

It took a surprisingly long time for the ‘I told you so’ to come, but come it did, as if Morgan were unable to help himself.

“You're telling me that you're not into her at all?”

“I'm…not into her like that at all.”

“And you're fine with me setting her up on a date with a man that'll do somewhat empowering, somewhat disgusting things with her?” Penelope piled on.

“What? That's…that's not my business,” he ground out.

“No. Of course it’s not. Because you're not her boyfriend.”

“Exactly, I'm not her boyfriend-”

“You're her fluffer.”

With a pat on the shoulder, the elevator hit its last stop, and Morgan exited, leaving Spencer scrambling after him as Penelope waved the two of them off.

“What? No, what's a fluffer?”

Morgan chuckled and waved him off, walking to his car.

“Come on, what's a fluffer, and why am I hers?”

“You've seen porn before, right?” The older man asked, pausing as he opened his driver side door. “Actually don't answer that. The fluffer is the person who keeps the actors and actresses… ready between takes. Prepares them for the good stuff.”

With a bright flush across his cheeks, Spencer tried his best for an indignant look, landing somewhat closer to a petulant child.

“I am not her fluffer. We have never-”

“I know you've never. If you had, we wouldn't be standing here right now having this conversation. What I'm saying is you should.”

“We're friends!”

Climbing into the car and closing the door, Morgan dismissed the younger man quickly, but he wasn't finished.

Knocking on the door, Spencer waiting a beat, then two for it to open again.

“I'm not her fluffer.”

“You build her furniture and cuddle with her. You're doing everything a boyfriend would do, without any of the boyfriend rewards.”

“What rewards?” he gasped, exasperated.

A single look was all the reply he got before Morgan out his keys into the ignition and started driving.

Spencer never made the decision to turn up at your house later that night. He just found himself all of a sudden at your front door on a Friday night, pulling out the key from the plant pot by the front door and letting himself in. Unlocking his shoes, he called out through the apartment, letting you know he was there as he slipped into the house shoes you'd bought him after the first of many movie nights.

“Spencer? We cancelled earlier, remember?” you said emerging from your bedroom, fitted in the tightest dress he'd ever seen you in. He already had no answer for your question, but seeing you like that, getting ready, he had no answer to any question at all. If you'd have asked him his name, he wouldn't have known it.

Well, he would've, but only because you'd said it only three seconds ago and had reminded him that he was, in fact, standing in your apartment when he should've been literally anywhere else.

“Um. I'm…I'm just-” he scratched the back of his neck, waiting for something to come to him.

“Spencer, I'm leaving in like an hour, so there's no time to watch a movie, and I have to get ready, so-”

“I'm… I'm angry?”

You raised an eyebrow at his questioning tone, unsure where this conversation was going.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah..yes. I'm sure. I'm angry. We, we had plans, and you gave me like an hours notice and cancelled them to go do something stupid-”

“Spencer! I'm going on a date. That's not stupid.”

“It is when you have me!”

He half shouted, half murmured the words, as if he himself were unsure of how confident he was in making that statement.

“That came out wrong-”

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“What I mean is- I mean…Morgan said that-”

You crossed your arms and sat yourself on the arm of your sofa, looking forward at him and waiting for him to get through whatever this was. You hoped the entire time that he was saying what you'd wanted him to say for the last year and a half.

“Have you ever watched porn?”

Not what you were hoping for, but a start, at least.

“Spencer!”

“That came out wrong, I- don't throw the couch cushions at me. I have a point, I swear!”

You lowered your next projectile and gestured for him to go on, not fully relinquishing it just yet.

“I'm your fluffer! I get you…in the mood for dates, and- and- I do all the boyfriend stuff without any of the boyfriend benefits!”

He stood in front of you, red-faced, and you stared him down a second or two as you collected your thoughts.

“Do you…want the boyfriend benefits?”

“Yes! No, wait - wait a second. I- I- What are the boyfriend benefits exactly?”

You threw the pillow down and turned your back on him, not entirely sure what you were expecting from the most oblivious genius on the planet.

“Y/N, wait. Wait-”

With a hand wrapped around your wrist, Spencer spun you around, and, tripping over your feet, you landed hard on your sofa. Your fall should've been relatively pain-free, but for the 6-foot man that landed directly on top of you.

“Get up.”

“What are the boyfriend benefits?”

“You should know if you're saying you want them! Now, get up!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“Spencer!”

“Y/N!”

You groaned and writhed under him, but he just dropped his weight onto you, unmoving, hands pinning your wrists lazily, leg poking between your two, hips pinning yours.

It certainly wasn't the closest you'd ever been, but in those circumstances, during that conversation, you felt more flustered than you had before.

“What are the benefits.”

“You really want me to say? You're not afraid it's going to throw off our friendship, ruin whatever good thing we have going?”

“I think that if you go out tonight, and enjoy your date, and get a boyfriend, that he's going to feel weird about this good thing we have going and it's going to be over anyway. Tell me.”

You desperately searched for a way out of this situation, but a stronger part of you wanted to simply wrap your legs around him and let him take as much advantage as he could.

You settled for disturbing him.

“Fine. A boyfriend would be able to spank me.”

“Y/N, be serious.”

“I am. I like it. A boyfriend would pull my hair back and make me count as he hit my cute round ass until it turned all red, and I couldn't sit down comfortably anymore. A boyfriend would then kiss it better.”

You'd never spoken about sex with Spencer, and you hoped the vulgarity would force him back to his senses. Instead, he didn't stir, and you had no choice but to continue.

“Another boyfriend benefit would be choking me. I like that, too. Are your hands big enough to wrap around my throat, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly and do confidently, you weren't sure you actually heard it outlook until he spoke again.

“What other benefits, Y/N?”

“A… boyfriend would get to cum inside me,” you whispered, suddenly aware of hips rocking into yours slowly as his cock poked up, listening intently to the promises spilling from your lips that you likely should've regretted.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want the benefits.”

Your body was hot everywhere he touched you, but he didn't move, didn't follow through on anything just yet. But you were aware of his head moving closer and closer to yours and panicked.

“And what have you done? As my fluffer? To deserve those benefits?”

“What have I done?” He asked, pulling back an inch. Even as his chest rested, flush against yours, your breasts pushed up against him as his hands held yours over your head.

“I-I bought you flowers-”

“Emily buys me flowers, too. So does Penelope. Should I let them be my boyfriend?”

With your hands in use, you took advantage of his distraction and wrapped your legs up and around his waist, rolling your hips up into him.

“I suppose I do like flowers, though. What else?”

“I… We're always t-together?”

“We work together.”

Using the leverage of his weight against yours, you rolled up harder into his hips, grinding into him slowly as you watched his resolve melt away.

“The m-movie nights are-”

“The movie nights where you rut your cock into me while we watch a movie? Friends do that all the time. You're just translating the movie for me after all.”

“Y/N, please don't-”

“Don't say that? Okay. I'll just let someone else hump against my thighs to get off because you're too proud to admit you want to sink your dick into me and pound me?”

“Y/N-”

“Maybe that's why you don't have the boyfriend privileges, Spencer. Because I'm waiting for something, you're too much of a prude to try-”

His lips meet yours before you can finish the thought, and you're not sure whether it's a triumph or a defeat.

After precisely five seconds of his lips on yours, though, you no longer cared.

Releasing your hands gently, he lifted his hips an inch, distracting you enough to force his tongue into your mouth as his hand found its way between your legs.

“Did you really mean it?” He asked between kisses as you rake your hands through his hair, getting lost in him. “About the benefits?”

You allowed yourself to imagine it for a second, Spencer's hands on your throat. His hands on your ass. His mouth buried between your legs.

You moaned into his kiss, and he laughed - actually laughed - as he pulled away.

“Spencer!”

“No, no, please, don't let me keep you from your thoughts, I'll just be down here.”

His fingers reached your clit and he wasn't surprised to find you already wet, legs spread. Snaking another hand to your neck though, he wasn't exactly as opposed to the ideas you'd flung at him as he'd acted.

You gasped as his hand closed around your neck, the prettiest necklace you'd ever worn. You grabbed a hold of his hands as he pulled your underwear off, pushing them down your legs as he gently pushed your legs open wider and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

You curled up on yourself, craving your body to watch him devour your pussy as you tried your best to keep your breaths shallow, to keep breathing entirely as he squeezed your throat.

His tongue licked and flattened, his head bobbing up and down and then stilling as your hips began moving by themselves, letting you ride his face as you moaned and whined and desperately ran towards your climax.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulder, pressing down on his back to keep him in position, grabbing a handful of hair as you jerked against his face, fucking it as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, drinking down every drop of you.

His hold on your neck tightened, and you felt your body shudder as you squeaked out his name, not wanting this to end so soon, needing to feel more of this. He let you ride it out until you were whining in frustration again, hips twitching from the friction of his tongue against your cunt.

Then he pushed away.

He wasn't gone long, but you followed him up. You thought about pushing him down to the couch again, thought about sitting on his pretty boy face and doing it all over again. You thought of turning over and presenting your ass to him, letting him punish you like you'd promised. Your thoughts ceased as quickly as they came when he pulled his cock free of his pants, not even bothering to pull them off fully before pulling you into his lap, lining himself up, and pushing you down onto his hot, hard, lengthy cock.

You swear you would've screamed if his to guess hadn't already claimed your mouth. A good scream. A “holy shit holy shit holy shit” scream. Definitely a “I didn't know it was that big, and honestly I'm a little scared” scream. But overall, a “god that feels so good” scream.

From the lack of movement, you were sure that Spencer was giving you a moment to adjust to his intrusion, and you were thankful as you clung to his neck, hands balling in the material of his shirt on his back.

Although he was bigger than expected, he wasn't uncomfortably large, and you calmed quickly, giving him a quick nod as you buried yourself in his neck, hiding your face to stop yourself from drooling, mouth wide as he tipped you back against the couch pillows, lifting your legs slightly and slipping his hands underneath yous thighs, and began his steady pace of thrusts.

You were sure your world was imploding on itself, that all your senses had ceased except that of touch, and his touch was fire. But you heard the wet, slutty sounds of your pussy welcoming him, you smelt the sweat against his skin, and, opening your eyes, you saw the absolute pleasure blasted against his features as he groaned in your ear.

And before you could form another coherent thought, he'd claimed another boyfriend benefit, as, rocking his hips against yours, he slowed to a stutter as he emptied himself inside you.

“Spencer!!” you moaned, but he wasn't done, spitting on his fingers and finding your clit again as you squealed, twitching and turning and milling his cock with your movements as you found your second release.

You moaned his name again, though it sounded less like his name this time, and more like a definite noise complaint from your neighbours in the morning.

“Spencer?” you asked, still trying to regain your breath as he, once again, collapsed on top of you.

“Mhmm,” he said, slowly pulling out of you, watching the mess you'd made together drip out too, and resisting the urge to push right back into you and go again.

“Was that a friendly fuck, or a boyfriend fuck?”

His eyes snapped to yours again as you continued.

“I just want to give Penelope the correct reason for cancelling on her friend when I text her-”

“I came inside you.”

“So you did.”

“Y/N!”

“.... So that wasn't a fluffer thing, but a boyfriend thing, got i-”

With a kiss, he shut you up again, and you realized quickly that you probably wouldn't have the time to send that text anyway.

[heartmix]

Dear Santa - LH44

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x driver!reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warning: use of the word hell

Twelve Fics of Christmas - Wish List

A/N: today was the last race :(

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

The Red Bull social media team was certainly an interesting group of people. The amount of content they pumped out of you and Max was comical. Sometimes, a mindless video they made did numbers on TikTok. They somehow convinced Max to do whatever silly video they had planned. You, on the other hand, didn't mind the media aspect of the job. It was why you and Max sat in hospitality with Christmas-themed paper and red pens in front of you. 

"Are we writing letters to Santa?" Max asked eyeing out the team behind the camera. 

"Yup! Try to be honest with this one."

"I think we're the wrong demographic for this." You laughed, eyeing the candy cane border of the paper, as Max laughed beside you instantly picking up on what you were hinting at. 

"This isn't only for kids." a media personnel said.

"I wasn't talking in that sense." You smirked making Max bark out another laugh. "We cannot keep that in."

"Humor us, please." At that, you shrugged your shoulders, thinking, "Why not?" It was just a silly little video, and maybe it would keep the Santa mystery alive for kids who watched it. 

"I don't even know where to start." You really did try to think of things you wanted from 'Santa'. Could Santa gift you a Cartier Love Bracelet or a new car that you could drive and win every Sunday? 

Turning to Max you saw that he already started writing some stuff down. Why not write down some things you've been eyeing out on getting, not like it was going to get gifted to you. After about 10 minutes the team wrapped up the video saying it would do numbers when they released it during the off-season for Christmas. 

"Do I give this to you guys or?" You asked referring to the 'letter to Santa.'

"No you guys can take it." They said before bidding you a farewell. 

Since you had no pockets and there were no trash cans around you needed to carry it around for the majority of the day or until there was a trashcan. Throughout the day the letter went everywhere, meetings, data analysis, and more media content. Honestly, you forgot what the piece of paper was. Somewhere throughout the day, it was forgotten somewhere amidst all the chaos. Not that it was memorable in the slightest. 

The piece of paper was found in one of the outdoor catering areas. Lewis was looking for an open table to sit at and when he found one he found your list. At first, he was confused at the kiddy-looking paper, but upon closer examination, he saw that it belonged to you. It must have been for a video because why else would you be writing a wish list? To Santa no less. 

The more he read it, he couldn't help but feel a weird desire brewing inside him. The urge to buy all of the things on your list. Sure you could buy all of this for yourself and probably only wrote these things for whatever video they had you do, but he couldn't help but feel like you actually wanted these things and you were just too humble to get it for yourself. Why not gift them, after all, you deserved it for one hell of a season and just because of the warmth you brought to the paddock. 

When the week of Christmas rolled around you started cleaning your whole apartment to be ready for when your folks came. In the middle of it all the front desk rang you saying there were a plethora of packages waiting for you. To your knowledge, you didn't order anything and no one said they were bringing anything. 

"All of this is for you." The doorman gestured to the pill of bags on the trolly. What the actual hell was all of this?

"Umm, thanks." You said with a confused smile while you trailed it up the elevator.

When you got into your apartment, you recognized what all the bags were. They were all things from your wish list. This had to be some joke. Sure you revealed the list on the video, but there were a selected few who knew where you lived. No way Red Bull would get all of this, they weren't that nice. One by one you pulled the gifts out of the bag, part of you was curious but you honestly just wanted to find out if there was any clue as to who sent them. 

When you got down to the last bag it was a small box, still no sign of a card or hint. Opening the box it was a pair of keys, but not any keys, it was a set of Ferrari keys. There was absolutely no way someone gifted you the most expensive item on that list. This had to be someone who saw the list because they didn't allow you to say it in the video. A note was also in the box, your first clue as to who caused all of this. 

'Merry Christmas, come see your car' - L

L? Who the hell was L? Was L referring to a first or last name? It did not help with narrowing down people, there were plenty of people you knew who had L as their first or last name. Suddenly it clicked, 'come see your car'. There had to be someone waiting, the same someone who brought all these gifts. Quickly you rushed down, not forgetting the keys. Whoever the hell this person is was in for it. 

Rushing out of your apartment complex you looked around the streets for any sign of a Ferrari car. Unfortunately, this was Monaco so you'd have to go search for your specific car. It didn't take you long to find, with one click of the button of your car keys you heard the car at the end of the street. Rushing over you stopped in your tracks, not because of the beauty of the red car, but because of who was leaning against it. 

"Lewis?"

"Took longer than I expected." He said with a smirk sliding off the side of the car to come face to face with you. He took in your shocked expression and loved every second of it.

Still in disbelief and in the middle of processing everything you couldn't help but blurt out, "You're L?"

"Who else did you think it was?"

At that, there was no holding back anymore, "What are you doing? Are you crazy? Did you really get me every single thing on that list?" 

"It's just a little Christmas present." He shrugged like it was no big deal. It probably didn't even dent his bank account but the gesture was still extravagant. You wouldn't be surprised if Ferrari gave him the car for free. 

"How did you know I wanted a Ferrari? They didn't put that in the video?"

"Who said I did this because of the video?" Now you were back to being confused. If he didn't watch the video how did he know you wanted all of this? It was only then he held up a familiar piece of paper. No way.

"You found my list?"

"It's cute. I thought it was a fan's, but your name was signed at the bottom." He opened the folded paper to show that you indeed sign your name at the bottom of the heart. That part was forgotten about.

"It was just for a silly video."

"So you're telling me you don't like anything you got?" He challenged you, almost daring you to deny you didn't want it. He's been seeing the way you've been eyeing the car every few seconds. 

Letting out a sigh and a pout you confessed, "No no, I love everything, but Lewis you didn't have to do this."

"Well, I wanted to. You deserve all of this and I know you wouldn't get it for yourself. Too humble of a person." 

"I don't even know what to say, I mean I didn't get you anything. How can I ever repay you?"

"Well, there is one thing on my wish list." He hummed out. You were way too distracted to find out how to pay him back you didn't notice the grin that graced his lips. 

"What do you want? I swear I'll get it for you." At this point no matter how expensive or outlandish it was, he was getting his gift. 

"A date."

"A date?" 

"Yeah, with you." He couldn't be serious. Sure you both were great friends and he welcomed you with open arms when you started in F1, but there was no way you saw this coming. You didn't even think he looked at you in that sense. There was no denying that you weren't attracted to him, I mean he was THE Lewis Hamilton. 

"Are you serious?"

"You said you'd get me the last thing on my list and that's a date with you." Seeing as you weren't pulling away and there was a hint of amusement in your eyes he stepped forward taking your hand in his.

"Did you do all of this just to get a date out of me?" 

"Maybe." Now it was your turn to have a grin on your face. He's stupidly ridiculous but that's what's great about him. How could you turn him down?

"Well, how can I say no? I mean it's a fair trade." you hummed with a smile. He couldn't help the huge smile coming from his lips at the agreement. 

"Exactly. So why don't we take the car for a spin and call it our first."

[wilwheaton]

hello mr wil wheaton when you were my age (like exactly i think) you were filming stand by me

I turned 13 during production, so if you're about to become a teenager, I hope you'll let me offer some thoughts that I wish an adult had shared with me, then?

I know this is a wall of text, and giving someone this much of your attention is a HUGE ask. Maybe bookmark this for another time, if you're not into hearing an old man talk.

I wrote this a few days before I turned 50. Thank you in advance for listening, and I wish you a life filled with joy, unconditional love, kindness, and adventure.

Hey everyone! An old man is talking!

In seven days, I will be 50 years-old. This is ... weird. I do not feel the way I expected I would feel when I was approaching 50, nor do any of my friends. The only time I feel like I'm middle-aged is when my body does some bullshit that takes me down for hours because I had the nerve to stand up quickly. And I really hate it when I have to use the flashlight on my phone to see a menu. I mean, at that point, I may as well be dropping my pants for free and singing the Old Gray Mare.

Anyway. This has been on my mind for a little bit, so I had something to say when someone used my tumblr ask me thingy earlier this week:

Q: I hope I'm as cool as you when I'm 49. I'd like to think I'm taking the right steps towards that version of myself. A: So I'm not sure I'm cool, but I do know that I don't suck, and that it's a choice I make every day. I desperately wish someone in my family had told me, or shown me by example, that getting older doesn't mean getting stupid and boring and stuffy and extremely uncool. I wish I'd known that, because I spent all of my life until I was in my 40s feeling like there was this day coming very soon when I would have to stop listening to punk, stop playing video games, put on a suit, and start yelling at kids for no good reason. I didn't know that you don't have to suddenly stop being who you are and become something or someone you hate, just because of a certain age. I know that's super obvious, but to young me, it was not. My dad was an asshole, my mom never showed up for me. Directors and people on set had been treating me like a thing for my entire life. I got yelled at for no reason from adults who knew better almost every day. Most of my elementary school teachers were authoritarian, evangelical assholes. All of these different adults, consistently, shut me down and made me feel like I didn't matter, the things I liked were stupid, and my opinions were invalid because of reasons I didn't understand because I was a dumb kid. So I presumed that when you got to be a certain age, that's what happened. I didn't want to be that, at all, and I was sincerely afraid of the day it would happen. But as I got older, I discovered that all that stuff I hated about adults doesn't automatically happen. Those adults I just mentioned all made a choice to be an asshole. I just didn't know it. I was in my early 20s when I did a movie with a cinematographer who was, I think, 45 at the time. He was the coolest, kindest, most artistic dude I'd ever known. He mentored me and we had epic fun making great art together. I remember telling him, "I'm not afraid of being in my 40s like I used to be. I didn't know you could still be cool." It's sad, that I grew up in such a toxic environment, and didn't know any of these things. So, 9 days before I turn 50, here are a couple things I have figured out: You know who sucks when they hit 49 and 50? People who sucked when they were 20 and never grew up. You know who is an asshole at 49 and 50? Yep. Someone who was an asshole as a kid and never experienced consequences for being an asshole. Hitting middle age has been awesome for me. Other than the aging of my body and its reluctance / refusal to do what I want it to do, I love everything about it. I wish I hadn't spent so much of my life being afraid that, when I hit 50, it was all over. Because honestly it's kind of just starting. The coolest stuff in my life to date has all happened in the last ten years, and I'm so grateful that it coincided with me figuring out a lot of shit so I could enjoy it.

The best part of getting older, by several thousand light years, is the part where we figure out how to stop putting up with other people's bullshit, and we contract our social circle until it's only populated with a VERY few people who deserve us. And I am incredibly grateful for these occasional opportunities to be a 49 year-old dad who can say all the things that would have been reassuring for 19 year-old me to hear (he wouldn't have understood, but 29 year-old me would have remembered, and he would have understood. I think.) I sincerely hope someone hears it and finds it helpful. Anyway, you're gonna be fine. Just remember that being cool, kind, honest, honorable, reliable, listening and showing up … they are all choices. If you want to be cool when you're 49, make the choice and set the example for someone to follow you. Treat kids the way you wanted to be treated when you were young. Listen to them when they offer you the privilege, because that means they trust you, and you have credibility with them. Be a mentor. Be supportive. Show up. Make a choice to be the person you need in the world, and never stop being that person. Start today, and when you're nearing 50 like I am, hopefully you'll remember who you needed right now, so you can be that person to someone else in the future. You're already asking the right questions and taking the first steps. I believe in you. You've got this.

Okay, if you've come this far, perhaps you'll follow me a little bit more, and read a thing I wrote about talking to students just a tiny bit older than you, which contains my core values.

Be honest. I’m a very old man, relative to y’all, and I’ve learned that the only currency that really matters in this world is the truth.

Be honorable. This dovetails with number one. You attract to yourself what you put into the world. Dishonorable people will take everything from you and leave you with nothing. Do your best to be a person they aren’t attracted to.

Work hard. I don’t mean, like, at your crappy minimum wage job you hate. I mean do the hard work that makes relationships work, that gets you ahead in your education, that gets you closer to your goals. Everything worth doing is hard. Everything worth doing requires hard work. Sooner or later, you’re going to run into something in your life that’s really hard, and you’ll want to give up, but it’s something you care so much about, you’ll do whatever you can to achieve it. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be less hard for someone who has practiced doing the hard things all along, than it is for someone who doesn’t know how to do the hard work because they’ve always chosen the easy path.

Always do your best. Even if you don’t get the result you wanted, doing your best — which will vary from day to day, moment to moment — is all you can ever do. We tell athletes to leave it all on the field. Whatever your version of that is, do it.

This is the most important one. This is the one I hope you’ll all hear and embrace. This is the one I hope you’ll share with your peers: Always be kind.”

When I read number 5, I looked up at them. I was so happy to see a classroom filled with teenagers who were all listening intently, even the ones I thought had tuned me out. “Here’s the thing about being Kind, versus being Nice,” I said. “I have interacted with lots of nice people who are incredibly unkind. Why is that? How do you choose to be nice but not kind?”

I pointed to my head. “This is where nice comes from,” I said. Then, I put my hand over my heart. “This is where kind comes from.” I put my hands out, like, “get it?”

There was this collective gasp of realization that I did not expect, at all. One kid said “Oh damn!” I saw a few kids look at each other like the trick had just been explained to them. They heard me. They really, really heard me. And it was amazing.

Okay, that's all. If you're still here, thank you for giving me so much of your time and attention. I hope you'll come back in a few years, and let me know how you're doing.

[xenteaart]

you are not difficult

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) word count: no idea but it's short genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression, implied history of SH. also implied shitty ex. so PLS keep that in mind before you read. also, it's all good in the end. author's note: it's a self comfort thing y'all but i hope you like it too.

it was yet another night where everything felt too much and you kinda hated yourself for it. bad day, maybe some hormonal imbalance due to a certain time in your cycle, history of mental illness — it's hard to put a finger on the exact cause. you're sick of trying, anyways.

chris was, of course, right there for you, and as you were falling apart in his arms, your entire soul was aching so bad that it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. it's usually like that, everywhere in your body like some sort of extreme inflammation, except physically you're perfectly fine.

"'m sorry…" you blurt out somewhere between your sobs and cries, still unable to hold eye contact with him.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," chan shakes his head and keeps rubbing circles into your back, just between the shoulder blades where the ache feels the most excruciating.

"kiss me?" you squeak. almost pathetic, honestly, but it's always been your way of checking, whether he still wants you. whether he still loves you and desires you, even at your lowest, even with your mascara all smudged over your cheeks, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly irritated and swollen. even when there's a gaping black hole where the heart is supposed to be.

chris doesn't even question it, really. he simply leans in and gives you a long sweet kiss full of both a partner's tenderness and a lover's lust, so, so willing to do whatever it takes to calm the thunderstorm inside your mind and ease your struggle.

the kiss doesn't really satisfy you, the feeling is still there.

"sorry," you whisper again as you breathe out into chan's lips but the intimate contact doesn't last long. chris frowns and makes some distance between you two to look into your eyes.

"why? baby, why do you keep apologizing?" he sounds gentle but still slightly frustrated.

"i dunno? cos 'm difficult? for bein' difficult?"

there's a silence as he blinks a few times, processing and putting two and two together.

"just because it was difficult for them to love you and take care of you, doesn’t make you difficult. you are not difficult. like, at all," he puts on his serious tone, the one he uses for you when you can't see the obvious and he has to remind you.

you don't really know what to say to that, so you keep playing with the tissue paper in your hands, ripping it apart piece by piece just to keep yourself busy and focused on something other than the burning ache in your chest.

"dealing with mental health isn't easy, that one is true, baby, but it's so easy to love you. you are easy to love. even now, looking so small and in pain but it's still you, and my duty as your boyfriend is to take care of you when you can't. and, hell, you're one of the most capable people i know, so please just let me hold your hand through it once in a while, yeah?" chan speaks slowly and quietly, as if to make every single word sink in, tenderly forcing it into your stupid lovely brain that refuses to cooperate sometimes.

chris feels safe. he feels like lighting up a cookie scented candle after a long day at work. he's the feeling of the ocean timidly licking at your feet and burying them deeper into warm wet sand. chris is the first sip of coffee in the morning and the cold side of the pillow at night. he's everything worth living and trying for.

"thank you," is the only thing you manage to say, but in the way you lean back into his embrace he's able to read a lot more.

"do you want a nice mug o' hot chocolate and some fairy bread, baby?"

this question makes you hiccup and sob once again. you nod and nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

[cfyslvr]

General smut headcanons

→ author's note: honestly I have no idea where this came from, I started a baji × reader fic but uhh.. I got bored of it :) my apologies I promise I'll finish it asap. honestly writing this was a little tricky for me bc I've never looked at chifuyu this way but I also had a few ideas and wanted to put them out there + I'm lacking when it comes to activity and headcanons are much easier to write than a whole ass fic so- here it is ^^ lmk if y'all want any other characters and I'll do my best to write them asap !!

→ warnings: smut, 18+, timeskip chifuyu (you'll never see me sexualizing by little blond baby), fem!reader, I would say minors pls don't interact but I know that y'all will read it anyway so 🤷🏻‍♀️ i wrote this in like 15 minutes so it might not be the best

Y'ALL idk why but my stupid ass tumblr won't let me put three pictures like I usually do 😭 I've been trying for like 10 minutes now and it won't work so just deal with the one picture (I'm gonna kms)

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- depending on when you two started dating, there's like a 90% percent chance you were his first.

- i feel like he would respect your decision on whether you want to wait till marriage or not, he's okay with either.

- i saw some people making headcanons that he used to watch porn as a teenager, but tbh he doesn't really seem like that type of person to me so I'll say he didn't do that.

- although he most definitely did see some interesting stuff from takemichi's gang and their nasty ass comics 💀

- i can also say that he probably has visited porn sites, not bc he's a porn addict or anything but bc he was genuinely curious (like most of us are).

- i also saw some people saying he'd be into one night stands, but once again I'd have to disagree

- to me personally, he seems like someone who would want to build a relationship with someone before engaging in something so intimate as sex.

- I also feel like he would wait for at least a year or maybe even longer to do it, especially if it's both of yours first times.

- as I said before, he has visited porn sites and saw makoto & yamagishi's 18+ comics, so I wouldn't say he's ENTIRELY clueless, but definitely not experienced

- that's okay, you can just teach him what to do if it's not your first time

- or even better, you can learn together!

- he may not be experienced, but WHEN I TELL YOU he's 100% a fast learner

- he's great with oral, like when he first dove into u you almost couldn't believe it's his first time !!

- when it comes to his length, I feel like he'd be a little bit smaller than the others, but that doesn't mean he can't make you see stars if you ask him to ^^

- he's VERY gentle at first, almost too gentle (if that's possible)

- I feel like that'd be because he's nervous, it's (most likely) his first time and he doesn't want to hurt his precious girl 😔

- once he's fully inside of you, it might take him more time to adjust than you 💀 buuut once he starts moving it's heaven

- would be very slow at first, you'd have to straight up tell him if you want it rough

- he usually takes intimacy very seriously and despite being inexperienced somehow manages to find the PERFECT center of rough and gentle to make you feel amazing!!

- he's into petnames, both giving and receiving them

- I feel like his petnames would be very sweet, some stuff like "angel", "honey", "love" etc.

- I can imagine him being a bit uncomfortable with degrading you, would avoid calling you "slut" or anything similar unless you're REALLY into it

- even if he doesn't like calling you degrading nicknames, I feel like he wouldn't mind being called those petnames when you're on top

- speaking of top, he's a major switch

- can rock your world if you ask him to, but can also whine like a needy baby when you're on top

- absolutely ADORES when you ride him

- I feel like he would let out whimpers and soft moans when you take control, might be a bit embarrassed about it so you'll have to reassure him that you enjoy hearing those precious sounds

- he's not good with dirty talk when he doesn't it intentionally, but I feel like he somehow manages to get you all riled out by accident when he just says what's on his mind

- he's more of a thigh or boob type of guy, but wouldn't touch you without your permission

- once you give him the go, he'll suck the shii out of your tits (it might be a bit harder to pull him off them)

- he's favorite positions are any of the more intimate ones, but I feel like he'd usually go for the classic missionary one

- he may not be able to last a million rounds, maybe three or four at best, but those 3-4 rounds are enough to have you feeling completely used, but also extremely satisfied

- puts your satisfaction before his own

- I honestly have a hard time thinking of his kinks 💀 I imagine him more on the vanilla side but I feel like he'd enjoy having his hair pulled and doing the same to you if you're comfortable with it

- also likes marking and biting

- he prefers being the one receiving the little bite marks and hickeys, although he LOVES seeing your neck and thighs covered in small purple and red spots 🫶🏻

- he also loves it when you give him head, but couldn't force you to do it if you're not into it

- he's the KING of aftercare

- he'll wash you, dress you up, make the bed all warm and cozy, bring you water, he'll even cook for you if you ask him to

- refuses to go to sleep until he's 110% sure you're satisfied and he thinks he's done a good job at making you feel loved afterwards

- loves cuddling and falling asleep together after a session

- honestly I don't imagine him having a very high sex drive, he can live perfectly fine without doing it often, sometimes you'll even have to do specific things in order to turn him on

- will buy lingerie for you only if you're comfortable with it

- i think he isn't the type to jerk off way too much, but it definitely does happen here and there

- the first time he jerked off with you in his mind, he was probably looking through photos of you that he took of you while letting out the smallest whimpers of your name

- will be extremely ashamed after it and would act like he committed 500+ war crimes when he finally admits it to you

- feels extremely relieved when you say you don't mind it

- idk about you but I'd ask him to send whimpering audios when he's at it 🤷🏻‍♀️ (I can't help it his voice is so attractive)

- overall a great lover, intimacy with him is amazing !!

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© cfyslvr 2024 | please don't steal or repost my work on other platforms !! | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated !!

→ edit: y'all are nasty 😧 I legit posted this like a week or two ago and it got more likes than posts I made months ago wth (jkjk as long as I get likes) (jk again)

[tremendouscreationperson]

A few of you wanted a part three so here goes

Reader gets called Doll and Toots but other than that I think it's pretty GN

Part 1 Part 2

Ford - no Stan - had spun his tale. You weren't sure any of it could be possible. How was you supposed to believe that Ford was alive but not in this universe/realm/reality?

You sat in the lab he had brought you to - it was cold and dank, stark lights illuminated metal plates and cascaded up the walls to show off a large triangular 'portal'.

"Why'd you have to die?" You asked, eyes glued to the journal upon your knees.

For-Stan had been waiting for any questions, willing to provide you answers. "Seemed easier."

"And lying to me?" You flicked through the stained pages. "That was easy?"

"It wasn't." He told you honestly, just hearing his voice was crazy. You had believed he was dead for two years and he wasn't! He was here the whole time. "Gotta admit, I had you fooled."

The attempt at a joke was not humourous in the slightest. "This isn't normal behaviour."

Stanley didn't know what else to do. He hadn't thought you would ever realise, perhaps that was stupid on his part but he really thought he was able to coexist with you as Ford.

"So..." You took a deep breath. "Recap: this is Ford's journal and he wanted you to take it away and you both argued and he got sucked into that thing and now you're him and Stan is dead and you're trying to get him back?"

Stan nodded, twiddling his thumbs. "Yeah. It's been hard, I had to relearn math."

"Who else wrote in here?"

"Huh?"

You pointed at the page. "That's not Ford's handwriting. Although look, 'ford' signed it." A humourless chuckle escaped. "Who else is pretending to be your brother?"

Stan was at your side in an instant, looking over your shoulder. Being so close to him was maddening.

He was alive.

Your Stan was alive.

Yeah, maybe he was a fraud and there was weird space mumbo jumbo that you still don't entirely believe but he was alive.

Your face was turned towards him as he studied the page, his fingers grazing yours underneath the words. How did he look like him now?

You didn't see Ford in him at all.

The way he stood, his neutral expression, even his hair was different. Was Stanley.

"I didn't notice that." He spoke lowly due to the proximity.

"Is there anyone else in the town called Ford?"

Stan's gaze landed on you, his nose inches from yours and he opened his mouth to speak before closing it and just observing you. He really took you in.

Despite the lies you were still here. Still entertaining this. He really wished he had more to offer you but he didn't.

He was just him. He wasn't his brilliant brother or full of mysteries or answers. He was just Stan, a con artist who scammed people daily.

"I don't know." The words finally left his mouth and he quickly stood upright.

~~

Rather than leaving tonight, you had stayed longer because of the news, calling in sick at work, how often could you say someone had come back from the dead?

The two of you ate half the pasta you made, sitting awkwardly opposite each other at the table.

He had been open and honest, answering all of your questions keenly and encouraging you to ask more. And you had to admit that was nice but the news still sat heavily on your shoulders.

Mostly because: FUCKING HELL THIS WAS CRAZY and a slither of: you had told FORD THAT YOU LOVED STANLEY AND BROUGHT HIM UP IN MANY CONVERSATIONS AND HE WAS THE ONE YOU WERE TALKING TO AND YOY WERE EMBARRASSED AS FUCK BUT YOU NEEDED TO HELP AND HDJAKSIEIES

"You, er.. you okay?" Stan toyed with a meatball.

"It's just a lot to process." That wasn't a lie. "I'll probably be like this for a few days."

He gave you a sincere smile, "take your time, do-"

Your eyes snapped up to his pink face. "Were you going to call me doll?" He nodded in affirmative, his ears reddening as well. You weren't sure why but you spared him with: "Hmm, better than toots."

"That was one time!" He insisted.

"That's all it took."

"I only said it to piss you off." He smirked cheekily, his face returning to its usual hue.

"It worked." Rolling your eyes as you giggled. You didn't hold any real malice, he was being cocky demonstrating his pick up moves and they did not work... Well they did but it was easier to pass off your hot face and wide eyes as anger rather than awe.

Stan laughed along with you, enjoying the sound. Loving how easy it was to just be himself. He didn't have to wear the gloves which made everything impossible, he didn't have to act stiff and drop big words into his 'lexicon', and he didn't have to lie. He could be himself.

He knows he doesn't deserve this, by God he knows that, but he would take all you'd willingly give; if that was just dinner before you drove away forever then he would take it and be thankful for the time.

"Want a beer?" He found himself asking.

You didn't reply straight away, ideas tumbling around your head. He loved watching your mind work. "Got anything stronger?"

Stan winked and disappeared to get the whiskey he'd stashed away.

And so the two of you found yourselves sitting on his 'balcony' (a little ledge, that you had to climb through a window to access, underneath the 'mystery shack' sign) forgoing glasses and passing the bottle between you.

"Must feel good to tell someone." Your words slurred as you laid on your spine, staring at the stars beyond the trees.

"It does." He took a sip. "Feel bad that it was you though."

You swivelled your neck to give him a confused face. He bellowed out a laugh. "Oit, don't laugh at me." Your socked toe jabbed his thigh.

Stan placed a hand over your foot, just holding it, forcing your hips to manoeuvre into a more comfortable position. You faced him as he watched the treeline. "Sorry to drag you into this."

"Sorry I didn't notice sooner." How didn't you? He was clearly Stan. There was nothing here that said Ford. "You're so obviously my Stan." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms in annoyance at yourself.

Stan's brows shot up and he turned to catch you grumbling at yourself. "Your Stan?"

Your eyebrows met and you scrunched your face in confusion again. "What?"

"You said 'my Stan'." His lips began to lift into the smuggest smirk as he leaned forward, entering your bubble. "I didn't realise I was your Stan."

"Shut up." You playfully pushed him away. "We're drunk, you don't know what you heard."

Stan didn't let up, instead he found your hand and intertwined your fingers. "I kinda like being someone's Stan." He spoke with a half shrug.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was this a dream fueled by your longing and whiskey? "Well, you know how I feel because you were spying on me! Pretending to be Ford to hear what I had to say about you!"

"Hey, I told you Stan liked you too!" He defended.

"Do-" You paused. When did the two of you get so close? You were nose to nose. "Does Stan still feel that w-"

You weren't given a chance to finish the question because his lips were on yours. He kissed you slowly, one palm on your cheek as the other wound around your spine, pulling you in close. Your hands were pinned against his chest as you kissed him back enthusiastically.

Stan's slow kisses morphed into an intense make out session as he ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you gave him access. His hands exploring all over your body, squeezing and caressing your sides and chest causing your spine to curve.

The two of you were buzzing and the kiss was a little sloppy but it was perfect. You wouldn't want it any other way.

He finally allowed the two of you a breather, kissing his way down your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive flesh. You squirmed again, back arching as a whispered moan tumbled from you.

That sobered him up, Stan raised his head from your neck, looking down at you and saw the needy look in your eyes. "Maybe we should wait 'til we're not blitzed."

The automatic frown you wore had him chuckling as you pulled his face back to yours, kissing him with as much vigour as you could muster.

Stan bit your bottom lip and his fingers settled on your thighs, how he managed to find himself in between them he didn't know but you pulled him closer with your legs and he had to pinch himself.

This was real.

All the shit he had done.

Every scam, every fraud, every crime, everything.

And you still looked at him with those eyes.

Fuck.

Maybe he loved you.

.

.

.

@aratheegreat @ngs991-2 @seahorrorz @misty-eyed-memory @50shadesofwinchesters @ryoiii @viceroywrites @atseoks @countlessimagines @aweleyirene @hesthermay @darlingdia1007 @piningforstan @emmygirl33 @imafangirlofeverything @daniel-meyer-03

.

.

I work in a DIY shop and this is what I had to look at for the majority of my shift 😂😭 he haunts me

[ashkabbom]

Would it have worked? - Mouthwashing

A/n: I think it's important to let you know that I haven't written frequently for a long time, but following something new has made me excited and with a peak of creativity, I apologize if I wrote something wrong or said something wrong 😭 feel free to correct me 🫶🏽

Versión en español en Wattpad: Libro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Cuenta: ashkabbom)

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

I didn't write this in a romantic way, but please give my writing a chance 🙏🏽

Mini warnings: Mention of bullets and death of the main character, I think that's all?

When you arrived here, expectations and nervousness went hand in hand, but regardless of how strange and weird everything around you was, hope was something you insisted on having at all times. Tulpar will be a good or at least interesting experience.

You really made friends, don't think you didn't!

Having someone like Anya to talk to in the middle of the night when neither of you could sleep properly was comforting.

The dialogues you and Daisuke had were definitely something interesting, you got along well together, sometimes even Swansea was there too, claiming that two interns together wouldn't be a good idea.

Now, about the captain and him. The captain was actually quite calm, a very understanding man, sometimes he would join you and Anya at night... But he was something else. He could just be someone who was a little stressed and had a weird mood. There are a lot of people like that, right?

You remember talking to him and the captain a few times, but rarely, only when it was really necessary or just to relax.

A year transporting a load among so many stars, a load that you didn't even know what it was initially, it would be good to have a good relationship with the others on the ship, your companions after all.

You start to think as you stare at the sky projected on the huge screen, remembering the little conversation you had with your friend.

"Where do you think you would be if you hadn't come to work here?" Daisuke asks looking at you.

"Hmmm.. probably working in a supermarket I think. That was my option if this one didn't work out, so I would keep sending resumes to see if I could get a better job I think.." You say as you remember your old options, there weren't many, but there were still possibilities. "But what about you?"

"Honestly I don't know, I try to be positive about it.." Daisuke looked insecure and uncertain about where he could be now. "Would we still talk when we get back home? I don't know if I'm going to stay here after all this, their cake isn't the best." He tries to relax.

Out of all the people on this ship, Daisuke was the easiest to talk to and actually build some kind of relationship with, maybe because you two were the most positive in that situation.

Even with that foam everywhere on that ship, lost in a loud silence between the darkness and the stars, you were all going to make it back to Earth.

Maybe because you two were more naive than the others on that ship, the two sanest on that crew.

"Hey, you're a cool guy, I'm sure you'd be working in a good place!" A confident smile appears on your face, trying to dismiss your friend's worries. "Of course we would still talk to each other when we get back, we are friends after all, together here for months"

He smiles positively and you say not to go crazy before you, you laugh but are soon interrupted by Swansea asking what the hell you two were doing up in the middle of the night

It was kind of stupid. Maybe you two should have been a little more realistic about the situation. More than 4 or 5 months, shit, you didn't even have any sense of time anymore. No one had come looking for you yet. Had anyone noticed that you were missing and never contacted Pony Express again?

Sitting with your friends at that table, as if it were the day of that news, with everyone sitting together and the cake for the captain on the table.

Now, with a bullet hole in your forehead, along with your friends and that man, your head tilted to the side, you stare at the sky projected on the broken screen, wondering if this would have worked.

A/n: English is definitely not my first language, so I had a lot of translator help! Sorry for any nonsense words with other words.

I just wanted to write a little bit and I liked Mouthwashing, how the game approaches the theme of work and worker, each character's situation in relation to themselves and the general situation ^^. Feel free to tell me what you think of my writing and if you want me to write something, I wouldn't mind. 🎀

[thankskenpenders]

I'm glad you're one of the few people in this community who doesn't defend Archie's screw-up regarding the trial. I don't like Ken's work but it's amazing how many people who in any other situation would be pro-artist side with the multi-million dollar company because Ken wrote cringe stories for their favorite franchise. Especially Archie who has a history of screwing other creators.

It's really easy to just want to see Ken get some kind of comeuppance for being a jackass, but like. When you actually look at the facts of the case, Archie fucked up so comically bad. It was a complete clown show. They fucked up so bad that the judge knew damn well Ken was probably lying about the contract never existing... and Archie still lost! Because they just couldn't prove the contract existed!

I've also seen some folks who know more about comic history and who are less attached to Sonic say that this was Archie's comeuppance for infamously stealing the rights to Josie and the Pussycats from Dan DeCarlo, and I honestly can't say they're wrong. As much as I love Archie Sonic and would've loved to see it go on forever, Archie (the company) is not innocent here

[yandere-yearnings]

what r ur thoughts on sun getting jealous and crazy but darling matches his freak and might just be worse… erm…. i have no excuse i just need to ruin this man he makes me VISCERALLY ANGRY. but in. like. a Pleasant way. the people (me) are dying to know 🎤🎤🎤

genie you're out here asking all the right questions😌💕 there are a few possibilities for how things may turn out and it all depends on the situation at hand so i wrote out two little bits hehe also, sun is staring bc he heard the word ruin and it put an image in his head,, i think you need to take him away🤧 to the people (you) i present sun w/ a jealous darling:

...in general

Honestly, Sun believes jealousy is a healthy feeling to have in a relationship. He's a bit delusional, and really, he flies off the rocker way too easily for someone who supposedly has a lax stance on the matter, but he thinks it can only be proof that you love each other. You don't like the way other people are putting their hands on him? That means you accept that he's yours! So, if you just happen to be a jealous person like that, he doesn't mind; in fact, he endorses it and will set-up situations just to watch the way you seethe.

Now, matching his freak — potentially being even worse than him — is an entirely different thing. Tell him you'll pluck off his fingernails just because they grazed someone else's hand and it has him squeezing his thighs together like it'll stop you noticing how hot the comment made him. Sun loves feeling like you possess him, and he's ready to give himself over to you wholly if that's what you want.

...when he is jealous

On the odd occasion that Sun loses his cool and lets his reoccurring jealousy drive him off the edge, he isn't really able to comprehend anything other than his desire to paint the walls with someone else's blood. You could be equally as mad, you could be tearing at his clothes with your hands at his throat, you could be screaming into his ears until the drums burst — but Sun isn't there so it doesn't change anything. Whoever or whatever it is that's taking your attention away from him will be his only priority in that moment, and if he can't deal with it imminently, he'll be thinking of how to until he can.

If you can overpower him, there's opportunity to calm him down. No amount of words will reach him when he's in a mood, regardless of their severity, but if you can hold him back for a while, he'll eventually be able to come to his senses. Although, that doesn't mean he's any less angry. You best keep your promises and do everything you said you would to him, Sun is waiting for you to teach him a lesson so he knows you still care.

[unangelic-thoughts]

Imagine this: jealous! rafe when you’re ward's personal assistant

[A few notes: 1. Rose doesn't exist in this AU. 2. This is a really rough draft, literally just wrote it and posted it so haven't had a chance to proof read it but I was honestly so desperate that I just had to write somethinggg 3. I hope you can pleasurably indulge in the same way I just did imagining this? :)) <33 love y'all with the same filthy minds as mine)] *spoiler alert* you fuck them both xoxo

you've been spending a lot of time with ward, working from the office and his home since you got the job as his personal assistant nine months ago

he's always made it clear that you're welcome to help yourself with anything in the kitchen or have a dip in the pool

one hot day you decide to take advantage of that and bring your swimsuit to his house

after finishing up on important but boring paperwork, you ask if you can take a dip and ward is more than happy about it

you swim as he sits at the edge of the lounger, talking to you about the new partnership deal he's working on

you notice the way his eyes flick down to your breasts, it makes you feel good, he's a handsome man after all

you plead with him to join you in the water, but he declines despite the evident want in his eyes so you splash him, egging him on

the glass doors swing open and out comes rafe, his arm around a pretty girl's shoulders

he's surprised to see you, especially with so much of skin on show and with his dad right there as if this is a completely normal and professional occurence

but then again, since when has his dad ever cared about professionalism anyway?

he only looks at you once, making a point to not let his eyes wander to you again

you watch as him and his dad make small talk and then him and his girlfriend(?) are gone

unbeknownst to you, rafe heads to his room and peeks at you through his blinds

he watches as you step out of the pool, water dripping down your breasts and thighs, it gets him real hard

that is until ward wraps a towel around you, his fingers caressing your shoulder and all rafe wants to do is yell at him to not touch you

you can feel someone's stare but as you look up to where you think it's coming from, he swiftly steps away and walks up to the girl he brought home, eva, and kisses her fiercely - wanting to block out any thoughts of you

at the company event, a week later, he doesn't fail to notice his dad's hand on your lower back or the way he leans a bit too close to you when you talk

it infuriates him every time you direct that sweet smile of yours towards ward. that should only be for him, no one else and especially not his dad

he corners you later that night as you walk out of the bathroom stall

it takes you by surprise, his broad chest right up against you as he looks down at you

"you should be more careful" he says

"careful?" you frown in confusion

"of my dad. he's not a good man" his hands rest on his hips

you stare up at him with doe eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips "oh really?"

"he's dangerous. a pretty, innocent girl like you shoudn't be getting involved with men like him" rafe looks you up and down, taking in the shortness of your dress

"and what type of men do you think I should be involved with?" you ask, a smirk on your lips

he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'isn't it obvious?'

at that, you laugh and roll your eyes

"you know, people would say that you're the dangerous one" you state honestly

his right hand reaches up to stroke your cheek "not with you. i would protect you from anything bad"

"that's really sweet of you" you say sarcastically

"but i don't need protecting" you shove him and walk past him to join the others outside

unfortunately for rafe, seeing him so jealous of you and his dad only makes you want to provoke him further

so you do what any other innocent girl would do

you get his dad to fuck you on rafe's bed just as he comes home from his late night gym session

ward is ecstatic about it, because 1) he's wanted to shove his cock inside you from the moment he saw you in that tiny bikini and 2) he knows that him and rafe have grown apart and what better way to bond than getting to share the same hole?

you're on all fours, your hands fisting rafe's fresh bed sheets as ward pounds you from behind

rafe walks in and as soon as his gaze lands on the two of you, he drops his gym bag on the floor with a thud

you and ward both turn to look at him, continuing to fuck as if there's been no interruption at all

rafe is absolutely seething with anger "what.the.actual.fuck?" he asks through clenched teeth

"hey son! are you joining in?" ward asks in the same way he would ask him if he wanted to play golf

"a-are you fucking kidding me right now?" his hands are fisted into balls. if this were a cartoon, he'd have smoke coming off his head

"i'm really not. as the saying goes, sharing is caring. what's mine is yours, son" his dad replies with a sweet smile on his lips

rafe's cold gaze turns to you then "and you're okay with this?"

you nod innocently at the same time as ward says "it was her idea in the first place"

rafe stands by his door in shock but you're staring to lose your patience

"rafey, baby, can i please have your cock? please?" you plead just as ward hits your sweet spot and you gasp in pleasure

he fucks you harder as you stare into rafe's blown pupils before involuntarily shutting your eyes, feeling yourself reaching closer to your orgasm

a moment later rafe's ripped all of his clothes off and lays on his back on the bed next to you

you open your eyes when he forcefully grabs your arm so that you're now straddling his lap, causing his dad's cock to slip out of you

you don't get to miss the sensation for long however, because rafe brutally shoves his girthy shaft inside your swollen pussy

your hands go onto his chest to steady yourself, feeling his defined pectorals

ward spits on your ass and slowly buries his dick inside your second hole

it makes you want to scream, but you bite down hard on your lower lip

they thrust into you in unison, you have never felt this full, never felt this kind of bliss

rafe takes your tits in his hands, then brings each nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking them with his tongue

you're so close, so so close

tears fall down your face at the overwhelming sensations in your body caused by the two men

rafe notices, looking concerned and asks if you're okay as his hands cup your face

you nod, "just keep fucking me, please. don't stop"

relief washes over his face and he kisses you deeply but softly, a complete contrast to how he's splitting you open

you kiss him back, your tongues dancing together

ward places two digits on your clit, it makes you whimper in rafe's mouth

and as they both frantically slam into you with their hands all over your body, you come completely undone

your body convulses between them and your legs begin to tremble

you're soon overstimulated by it all but they keep going

they thrust in and out, in and out, as you squirm, completely trapped between their two bodies

before you can register any of it, warm cum fills up both of your holes at the same time

they grunt in unison and you ponder at how similar father and son really are

[megwritesriddles]

A Few Strings Attached ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Sam (Stardew Valley) x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Request: I saw your post about requests, and I love your sdv stuff! Could you maybe do something with the reader and Sam being fwb. Sam gets super jealous when she hangs out/starts getting close with one of the others, leading to him confessing the next time they have sex. If you wanted to have him be a little rougher with the reader, that'd be cool to, just whatever you're comfy with ^-^ tysm!!

Tags: Friends-with-benefits, P in V, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Nipple play (minor), Biting, Rough sex, Jealousy, Moody!Sam, Love confession, Possessive behaviour (slight).

Word count: 2.5k

all fandom masterlist | sdv masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: This may seem like it starts in the middle, because it DOES!! I wrote too much unnecessary exposition like always so I'm posting it as an optional 'prequel' to read. There's a few weird text formatting things going on that I can't fix but oh well!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

'PREQUEL' HERE !! (you don't have to read it but if you do, prob read it first, it's only 1.3k words)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

He’s late arriving at the Saloon one Friday for your weekly hangout, a time to enjoy the ‘friends’ part of friends-with-benefits with you and relax with the people he’s closest to. The new riff he’d written on his guitar had kept him busy and he’d lost track of time. When he arrives at the Saloon and heads to the side room to find his friends, he freezes a little at the sight before him. Sure, you and Sebastian had started talking more lately, he’d noticed, but Sam was confident he had you to himself and had no reason to worry. He barely thought of anything but you each day since starting the arrangement, and as you seemed to enjoy the sex as much as he did, he assumed you would be the same. Sebastian had ceased to be any sort of a threat in his mind, until now. The two of you stood at the end of the pool table, way too close together for Sam’s comfort, talking and giggling, nudging each other with your elbows. Sam just stared for a moment as the two of you clearly made jokes back and forth, giggling and swatting each other. What could the two of you possibly have to giggle about? You didn’t have anything much in common… Did you? Sam tried to think but came up blank, yet something was clearly very funny to the two of you. Trying to control the irrational urge inside of him to rush over and stake some claim over you, he took a deep breath and wandered over.

“Hey guys, having fun without me?” he teases, although his voice is just a little tense enough to give him away. He doesn’t think of himself as the jealous type, and really you weren’t his to get jealous over, but the burning of his cheeks tells him exactly how he feels. He wants to wrap an arm around you and pull you in, bite your neck in the way that he knows you love right in front of Sebastian and actually leave a mark this time.

“Hey Sammy, had to entertain ourselves somehow while you weren’t here,” you tease, your voice and expression sweet, unaware that Sam is seething with jealousy. Is this what you’d do if he went out of town for a while or something? Find a way to ‘entertain’ yourself? Turn to Sebastian? His face falls without him being able to help it.

“Right,” he grunts, staring at you intently. You tilt your head at him, finally noticing something is wrong. Sam is seldom moody, he’s always outgoing and happy-go-lucky, so seeing his face twisted into a sour expression is disconcerting. 

“Is something wrong Sammy?” you ask gently. “Why were you late?” you clearly assume whatever made him late is what has him upset. Are you really that naive? He glances contemptuously at Sebastian who is still at your side, looking similarly concerned. 

“I’m just tired, honestly I’m gonna go home, you’ll have more fun without me bringing you down,” he grumbles, turning to leave. He knows he shouldn’t be acting like this, you’re both his friends. Friends. And it wasn’t like he caught you kissing Sebastian, just laughing with him, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach persists. The two of you and even Abigail protest, saying he’ll feel better after a round of pool, but he’s made up his mind, he cannot watch this. If you want Sebastian, who is he to stand in your way? As long as he doesn’t have to see it play out. He stomps back to his house, listening out in case you’ve come chasing after him, but you haven’t, taking him at face value and assuming something had happened at home to upset him. Admittedly, he does feel a little stupid returning home mere minutes after he left, and considers turning back around, but can’t bring himself to. Hiding away in his room sounds best right now. He waits quietly in his bed, glaring up at the ceiling, expecting that you might knock on his window, but you don’t. It pains him to imagine what you might be doing instead. Could Sebastian please you as well as he could? How was he to know? You might be forgetting all about him at this very instant. He comforts his male pride by convincing himself that Sebastian is probably a disappointing size compared to him, even though he has no evidence of this. Then when he realises what he’s thinking, he feels wildly ashamed. Sebastian was his closest and oldest friend here. Wasn’t the whole point of this arrangement for things not to be complicated? His thoughts had never been so muddled. After another half hour, he concludes you aren’t coming to knock on his window, and turns himself over to sleep.

The next day, although he tells himself he won’t, he’s drawn to walk to your farm at his usual time. He’s a little worried about what might be waiting for him. He imagines Sebastian embracing you from behind as you bake, something he’s always wanted to do, as he often arrives just as you finish baking and is sent home with some fresh rolls. He knocks on your door and you open it like usual, smiling brightly. 

“Hey Sa– ooh,” a puff of air leaves your lungs as he pounces on you, pushing you to the wall of your entryway. You give him a bewildered look as he tilts your chin from side to side, examining your neck for any marks. “What are you doing?” you chuckle, but he doesn’t answer, examining a tiny dent in your skin that resembles a bite. Was that the same one he’d left on you a few days ago? Beyond hope, he hoped it was. “Sam?” He pulls back and looks at you, examining your face as if something in your expression would give away if you’d done something with Sebastian. “What are you looking for?” you scoff. He knows he’s being unreasonable, so he falters a little.

“Nothing…” he huffs, looking away, though his hands remain on your waist, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. You laugh softly and it sends a jolt through him, reminding him of the scene last night. He slams his lips to yours to shut you up, causing you to squeak in surprise for a moment, but quickly relax, slipping your arms around his neck just in time for him to hoist you up and carry you to your bed. Your lips remain connected, moulding together and tongues finding one another as he walks you over. He’s determined to make you forget everything but his name. The bed dips as he climbs on, lowering you to lie beneath him, wasting no time in sliding his hands beneath your shirt to push it up. You giggle at his sudden dominant attitude, but you don’t mind at all, lifting your arms so that he can free you of your shirt. “No bra…” he purrs. “Expecting someone?” His voice is rough enough to give you a little pause, but his hands dancing all over your bare skin don’t allow your brain to pause for long. His thumbs circle your nipples, causing them to stiffen into peaks.

“You, of course,” you sigh as he lowers his head, wrapping his warm lips around one rosy bud and swirling his tongue, gently rolling the other between his fingers. A gentle moan leaves your lips and he flicks his tongue back and forth. 

“Me,” he mumbles against your skin, slowly kissing his way from one nipple to the other, before taking it in his mouth and repeating the swirling action you so liked. 

“Mhmm,” you whine as he carefully brushes his teeth against your sensitive skin. He doesn’t bite but just teases you enough for goosebumps to rise on your skin, the cool air meeting the wet kisses over your chest adding to your shivers. His hands cup the weight of your breasts, his mouth swapping between your nipples periodically just to tease you, hardness rubbing against your inner thigh. You squirm, trying to shift so Sam’s bulge would press where you need it to. He growls, slamming his hips to yours and harshly rutting against you. Your head tips back and you moan, much to his private delight.

“You want me, don’t you? Tell me you want me not Sebastian,” he hisses, biting his way over the swell of your breast and up to your neck. 

“What–? What does Sebas–,”

“Just say it, tell me you want me,” he demands. Your mind is hazy with arousal, but even so, you know something is incredibly odd with this ask. At your silence, he ruts against you once more, spurring you into action.

“I want you, I want you, only you…” you whine, wriggling against him softly. Full of pride, he bites down on your neck, sucking a harsh mark into your skin. Another squeak leaves you, surprised by this, he doesn’t usually mark you, it defeats the purpose of hooking up in secret, but before you can protest, he’s tugging down your leggings and rubbing his fingers through your slick folds, melting all of your thoughts away until you’re left with only his touch against you. Your hips chase his fingers as he playfully withdraws them, enjoying watching how needy you are. He isn’t usually so teasing, but his ego needs stroking right now, as does something else. He sucks his fingers clean with a groan and drops them back down to resume rubbing. The sensation has you whining and squirming and he enjoys it whole-heartedly, guiding your hand to his bulge as he dips his fingers inside of you, stretching you open. Ever generous, you immediately begin to stroke him through his jeans, even despite being a little distracted. It’s a fumble for you to undo his jeans when your eyes are glued to where his fingers are disappearing inside of you, but eventually, you manage. He snatches your hand before you can try to dip it in his boxers.

“No, I want to fuck you,” he growls, making you moan, looking up at him starry-eyed. You want it too, but words escape as his fingers drive as deep as they can go into you before quickly withdrawing completely. The empty feeling makes you whine, but you don’t have to worry for long. He sucks his fingers clean again, making sure he doesn’t miss a drop and then strips himself down to the buff, kicking off his jeans. He always enjoys the way you admire his body, but today it feels especially favourable. He admires you in turn, dripping wet and perfectly sexy, the perfect body laid out in front of him, belonging to the perfect person. Something regrettable threatens to slip out of his mouth, so he bites his lip and settles right between your legs, placing his heavy cock against you, and gently tapping your clit with it a few times. You whine and wriggle, giving him your best wide-eyed plea, he loves it when you get like this. Out of a hint of misplaced lingering spite, he grinds his cock between your folds a few times, not yet pressing inside like you want, getting the both of you wetter and wetter. It would be torture for him too if it wasn’t for the look on your face. “Pretty perfect girl…” he hums as you whimper for him. You’re too aroused to notice the seriousness of those words, he usually only calls you hot or sexy. 

Finally, at long last, he grabs the base of his cock and angles himself so he can push inside of you. He buries himself to the hilt immediately, revelling in the choked-out gasp that leaves your lips. He takes a grip on your hips and, after a few gentle thrusts to assess if you can take it, he begins pounding into you. Your eyes roll back and you shout out in pleasure and he feels much the same way. His eyes roll a little and he growls, holding you down as his hips slam into yours over and over. You’re so tight and warm and perfect. He pants, staring down at you, flushed and blissed out, your tits bouncing with each ruthless thrust. You take him so well, you look so beautiful, even now. He leans down to kiss you, your noses bumping as he bullies his cock into you, tongues making a sloppy mess together. You’re so perfect, nothing has ever felt this good, he refuses the idea that someone else might take this from him. With a loud grunt, his pace increases impossibly more, forcing loud wanton moans from your throat with each movement.

“You’re mine,” he pants, a hand coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re mine, say it,”

“I’m yours,” your fucked-out mind doesn’t understand the gravity of what he’s saying, merely obeying orders so your orgasm isn’t stolen from you. Your words make him groan and lift your legs, thrusting into you at a new angle. You cry out in pleasure.

“You’re mine, say it, say my name,” he growls.

“Sam…” you whine, unable to form a coherent thought.

“That’s it, my perfect girl, I–” he cuts himself off, stuttering and twitching deep within you. “Ah–, I’m close, please…” he ruts himself against you a few more times, the pleasure completely clouding his brain. “I- I love you,” he grunts against your lips.

“Sam…!” you sob and it sends him over the edge, his thrusts slowly significantly as he shoots ropes of his cum deep inside of you.

“Fuck, I love you,” he chokes as he cums. “I love you so much…” he collapses on top of you but gives a few more weak thrusts into you as he feels your fingers frantically rubbing at your clit, helping you fall over that edge. He hisses when you do, feeling you squeeze down around his oversensitive cock, but he can’t bring himself to pull out. He lies there on top of you, one arm sliding behind your back to keep you pressed to him. His eyes fall shut and he takes a deep breath, completely satisfied. 

“You love me?” your weak voice squeaks from beneath him and he suddenly realises what he’s said, what he said throughout what you just did. He could probably pass it off as a weird kink, or just getting lost in the moment, but as he looks down at your flushed confused face, he can’t lie.

“Y-yeah I uh… I guess I do,” he grins sheepishly, back to his old self now he got the insecure anger out of his system.

“And you… thought something was going on with me and Sebastian? That’s why you were being so odd?” you sluggishly piece the pieces together, struggling to think in your pleasured haze, but unable to ignore it. He nods. “Well, nothing is going on, I promise you, we’ve been talking more because I’m trying to get him to ask Abi out,” you chuckle tiredly. “Why would I want him when I have you?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Sam jokes, but is incredibly relieved to hear it. “And… the whole ‘me loving you’ thing, how do you feel about that?” he asks, gently wiping some sweat from your brow. 

“Well… I guess I love you too,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

xoxoxo

[cattjull]

Sugary sweet

summary: You were supposed to go to a party tonight. Abby receives you at her home, though, crying about not having permission from your parents to go.

a/n: I'm so sorry for not posting but honestly I'm really really depressed since a few months ago and I cannot bring myself to do anything good or productive enough. I don't even think this passes my quality check but at this point and due to my inconsistency nobody will even remember I wrote fics once soo... Please enjoy or something :)

cw: implied age gap but not specified!

Abby laid down on her side, wet hair clinging to her skin and cascading down her neck and sprawling on her pillow, small droplets falling from her loose, golden hair onto the bedsheets and her pajamas like molten gold looking for a form in which to solidify.

It was 12 p.m. in a normal Friday night, which normally meant she could stay up to whenever she felt like it, go to bed anytime and mindlessly scroll down on her phone or read a book until she decided to turn all of her lights off, text you her usual good night message and drift off to sleep, her pillow being an one-way ticket to the land of dreams which you had took over and claimed as yours ever since you guys started dating.

But this was one of those nights. Those where you'd go out to some party and she'd be going to bed late without inviting anyone over or going out, where she wouldn't pay attention to her phone or get distracted with other simple activities because of her excessive worries, often finding herself fidgeting with her rings, adjusting her glasses, or eating fruits just because of her anxiety.

She loved you a lot, too much even but sometimes she didn't have enough stamina to be your company in parties, even if she really tried to attend with you almost always. She really didn't enjoy that lifestyle, mundane parties with shitty music and potentially dangerous people, but oh guess who does! Her girlfriend.

She feels lucky to have you, truly. It's not like she was planning on sleeping until you texted her you got home safe, but her mind started divagating somewhere far away from the book she held between her big hands and she just knew that, once again, she'd spent worrying over you at least until 4 a.m., maybe even after you texted her you were safe in your house. So she took off her glasses and placed the book down on her nightstand, signing loudly and preparing herself for another sleepless night.

You may be having fun in your friend's party, where you obviously invited her but she refused, knowing you'd most likely end up alternating your time between gossiping with your friends and clinging onto her while the others ignored her, which made her feel unwanted by them.

Maybe there was someone flirting with you and you were too drunk to tell them to stop. Maybe you were flirting with someone and tomorrow you'd call her like nothing talking to her about how much you hate hangovers. Maybe you were crying because someone was mean to you. Maybe you were doing something stupid. How could she know?

Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by the small sound coming from her window. It sounded like a small rock: there it was, your signature way of getting into her house. She didn't know why but everything about your behaviour was so sweet and dumb, just as any teenager but make it cute romantic comedy like. Everything you did was a small reminder of the small age gap between you two, which made her feel guilty every time.

She got closer to the window and saw you standing there with your eyes looking slightly red and swollen, as if you had been smoking weed, with your mini bag being clutched to your waist with one hand while the other waved at her. She quickly rushed downstairs, not even bothering to put her slippers on, and unlocked the door for you.

Luckily, her dad was out in the hospital so he wouldn't wake up by the sound of her feet pattering on the wooden floor or the tinkering of the keys or... Anything else you'd be doing.

When the blue eyed girl opened the door, she took in your appearance, noticing you had the same clothes that you had worn a few hours ago when you sent her nudes and a really thoughtful video. You told her that would be your outfit for the party, so why were you in her house if this hour wasn't even close to the one you usually would be going home?

Her orbs shamelessly fixed on you, and how couldn't they when taking you in felt so natural? After what felt like an eternity, Abby started functioning again and regained her speech. "Babe... What happened with the party?" She questioned.

"My parents didn't want me to go. So I escaped. Sorry for not telling you but they took my phone away." You explained, in that moment you felt so angry you were crying, something you were deeply ashamed of to be honest. Your voice was completely sweet towards her when you didn't talk about your parents, though. Abby cupped your face with her warm, big hands, noticing you hadn't been smoking anything. Your pretty eyes were spilling diamond tears.

"You'll stay with me tonight, honey." She reassured you. "I'm not driving you to that party, yeah?" You immediately smiled and hugged her, burying the side of your face in her god-sculptured chest and nuzzling your cheek against her. "I'll do as you say." You obeyed lovingly.

"I bet you prefer me over those parties, sweetheart." She replied with a soft smile.

"Of course I do. You're the best Abby, I love you so much and I'd choose you over anything, okay?" You reassured her, causing her to giggle at your directness. That kind of words often came out of your mouth by themselves, as always you praised her. As if you just quoted every love song you heard.

"Didn't you bring anything by the way?" She asked as she hugged you back, embracing you with her buff, juicy arms and picking you up.

"I brought my toothbrush, makeup and fifty dollars." You said, prideful of your improvised packing skills as she held you up to her body with one arm, using the other hand to close and lock the door.

"Pretty good." She nodded with approval, heading upstairs.

Last time you escaped home for something like this, you had brought your phone charger (your phone was taken), a bar of chocolate, your earphones (again, your phone was taken) and no money.

"I know." You smiled and placed a kiss in her clavicle. In Abby's room, she sat down as you straddled her, shifting so you were using her chest as a pillow as she laid on actual ones, staring down at you.

"You aren't really... Crying anymore." She commented, caressing your cheekbone as she observed the change in your mood.

"No. I stopped crying when you picked me up. Guess I was happy to see you." You confessed, kissing her cheek.

"Is that so?" She questioned with affection, caressing your hair.

"You know you heal my heart, Abby." You whispered before kissing her. It was velvety, wet, and sweet. Abby's lips were the cake to your sickly sweet frosting, joining together on a wet and tender kiss, intertwining your souls and tying them up together with an invisible string without even knowing it. That's just how you were.

[vomitingwords]

"I don't want to think about it now," one of my closest friends once told me. "I'll think about what I can do once I'm already in that situation," she even added.

Before we got into this conversation, I was ranting about my life. And why are things not happening the way I want them to? As if the universe is against what I want. These past few months have quite stressed me out, and I don't have anyone to tell these things to. Because, honestly, I never wanted to bother anyone. I am just a typical person who keeps things to herself. Especially if it's too personal for me to share.

Earlier, while I was traveling to work, this conversation struck me once again. And I just remembered that I also said that before to someone I know. I used to think that way. I used to tell other people the same phrase every time they asked me what I would do if I were in a certain situation. And you see, I used to not overthink too much. Yes, I am an overthinker, but not to the point that I am experiencing now. I just thought that my overthinking got the best of me. I'm on the verge of quitting everything that I'm passionate about. In short, I was so close to giving up and stopping everything that makes my heart feel alive. I haven't felt so genuine in a while, as if everything I wrote was nothing but mere words that have no meaning at all. Something I don't really feel like writing about. I stopped having a long conversation with anyone. I stopped listening to what they really had to say. And just think, think, and think until it's time for me to go to sleep.

But then I remembered who I was before. I remembered that girl who doesn't easily give up on things just because she's stressed out. I remembered that girl who loved to lift people up with her words. I remembered someone who would not let anyone stop her from achieving what she wanted. I remembered who I was. I remembered myself saying, "Let's see what I will do if I'm in that situation." Even if I am not sure what I can exactly do when that moment comes, even if I'm not sure if I'm still alive to witness that, I remembered how hopeful I was. And I remembered how much faith I have that things will always work out. And even if they don't, it just means that it wasn't meant for me at all.

I just want to tell you that sometimes you have to remind yourself of the old you—the you who have lived and survived in the past—just to get you where you are right now. And remember that if you don't like where you are right now, you still have a chance to do something that might change where you're going. It might be a tough road to walk on. But the most important thing is that you've done something. You've never abandoned yourself and just given up on what you really want to do.

Hello, I'm just dropping by // ma.c.a