#but now i have to actually read some of these passages

[thebahwrites]

being a (fanfic) writer in general makes you do some curious things. a lot of people mention their weird ass google research but me, despite my heavy catholic school AND sunday school upbringing, have now a bible study website open because i have made some Aesthetic Decisions where one of my works is concerned and i’m gonna be using verses for the chapter titles but that includes KNOWING those verses.

so long story short i haven’t set foot in a church in years and could not care less for Christianism as a whole but the religious trauma, filial piety and stained glass of picturesque violence fuck so severely i picked on as themes and anyway i now am re-reading the bible

i’m sure my extremely religious mother is looking down on me from wherever she is feeling somewhat vindicated

edit just to add

chapter one’s verse is this TELL ME IT DOESN’T GO HARD? Romans 3:10

[skteezcursed]

❝greedy little darlin❞ — p.sh.

PAIRING. frat!park seonghwa x fem!reader.

GENDER AND WARNINGS. smut. dom!seonghwa. switch!sub!reader. university au. frat members ateez. sex talk (among adults). drinking (not too much, but just enough). pet names (mostly darling, reader is called slut once, good girl and handsome, prob more but i cant remember now). blowjob. hair pulling. cunnilingus. tongue fucking. over stimulation. sex with a condom (please remember to do that irl). light chocking. three? slaps on the ass. not proof read. i guess that's all, lmk if i forgot something.

SYNOPSIS. everyone knew you and Seonghwa were into each other, your friends even places a bet on when that would happen, although it never did. until he gets tired of your antics and decides to put you in your place.

RATING. R (+18) - MDNI.

WORD COUNT. ~5,6k.

NOTES. english is not my first language. part of the ateez frat boys (that i will still make so give me a moment) and of the atz house event you can't out rage us. shout out to @bro-atz for helping coming up with the idea for this, and to @seulrinnie-rinrin for betaing part of this. hopefully this is me leaving my slump so yeah, bye ♡.

IMPORTANT. this is a work of fiction, it has zero intent on portraying how any of the people quoted here are in real life.

CREDS. dividers by cafekitsune ♡

Nothing was ever simple with Seonghwa. 

Ever since the beginning, it was as if something was pulling you two closer and closer, the tension growing at each encounter. At first, everyone thought it was because you two didn’t know each other, the thing is that, after you met, the tension didn’t falter, it actually increased exponentially, to the point where your friends were making bets as to when and who would break first. 

Park Seonghwa is the type of guy that makes you question everything. Because how can a man be so drop dead gorgeous with minimum to no effort? How can he look the squishiest human being with those adorable boba eyes, but also have the devilish look on his face when his eyes became siren and the smirk in present, making you question if you should really keep that line between friends high, blocking your passage, blocking you to reach his collar and kiss him like you need oxygen, to feel his marvelous tongue in between your folds, his hair in between your fingers as he -

“Earth to (y/n), you there?”

“Yeah, yeah sorry,” you looked around your friends with an apologetic look before focusing on the food in front of you, sighing. “What are we talking about again?”

“Damn, you truly dozed off,” the chuckle Mingi gave, was followed by some of the others as San just turned to you with that sweet smile of his, the dimples present, a reminder he too, was holding back a laugh. 

“Since midterms are over, we were planning on having a little get together at the frat, no big party, just a few drink with friends, it’s not like any of us have time to organize it anyways,” you nodded taking another bite of your food, the movement being noticed by San who exchanged glances with the others. “So, can we count you on?”

“Don’t you consider me a friend, Sannie?” Everyone laughed as you leaned to kiss San’s cheek, apologizing. “I’ll be there, just let me know when.”

  “We are all gonna be there, by the way,” the knowing smile that Wooyoung sent your way, made you want to push his face against his plate, “in case you want to dress up.”

  “Why would I dress up to a get together with you guys?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because Hwa is gonna be there.”

“And you have a huge crush on him,” Jongho continued Yunho’s line and you could see Yeosang opening his mouth.

“And let's not forget the sexual tension there is!”

“You two should honestly just fuck already and end everyone’s suffering at this point.”

“What the fuck you guys talking about, and another word from you,” you pointed at Wooyoung who had made the last remark, “and I’ll shove your face against the plate!”

“Oh, kinky, should we let Hwa know?”

Yunho commented and all the boys bursted into laughter as all you wanted was to be buried six feet under. 

  Of course you had a crush on Seonghwa. Of course whenever you two were together there was this small flirtatious situation, and the sexual tension was definitely high whenever you two were close in a room, but that didn’t mean anything. 

“I’m sure he’ll cave in soon and fuck you,” San’s words brought you back, making you eye him slightly shocked. “What? He thinks you are hot, he even said it to us the first time you two met, but I also don’t know why he hasn't done shit.”

“Because he likes to play with his food before eating it.”

Wooyoung jumped from the table the same second he finished his sentence already running from you trying to slap him, making everyone at the table and around you seven to laugh at the situation.

“I’ll fucking end you, Jung Wooyoung!”

  You dolled up, he knew you would.

  You always did whenever you two were to meet, only to be even more irresistible in his eyes. The fact that his brother’s from the fraternity knew how badly he wanted you, didn’t help as they would always create situations for the two of you to get close. Not that neither bothered to argue. Seonghwa had tried to reason with the younger ones, but as soon as he realized you didn’t really care, even indulged whenever it happened, made him decide to test how far you were willing to go.

  As if you knew about it, you played along. 

You accepted his drinks, laughed at his jokes, shiver under his touch, lean towards him when he was close. Yet, you would also pull your own strings. You knew he wouldn’t be jealous, you noticed on the first few tries on how he simply would smile or laugh at your useless attempts at making him feel anything when you were with someone else, which was not the case when he was the one trying to make you jealous, even if unintentionally. 

So you changed your methods. From revealing clothes and trying to make him jealous, you simply decided to make yourself present, being there if needed, and flee if that was not the case, you stopped trying to get his attention, deciding to enjoy your time and maybe, just maybe, get with someone to alleviate the ache between your thighs whenever Seonghwa got too handsy with you before leaving you high and dry.

  ATZ frat was known, as any other house on the Greek Road, to be just to mess around, never to create a relationship. Although you knew Wooyoung since you were kids, you knew that to be true whenever you and the other boys would get together, even San who appeared to be the one who leans mostly towards dating, would fuck around from time to time. The odds weren’t in your favor, so you decided to brush it off, to have fun with your friends, to go to their frat from time to time, and that was when your ‘relationship’ with Seonghwa started to change. 

Both of you knew that this was never going forward. The moment you realized that, it was like something shifted in him, he started to go towards you whenever you met, regardless if it was at the frat or not. You knew that didn’t mean he was going to accept your advances, especially after you found out Hongjoong had established a rule that family and close friends from the members were off limits after a complicated situation happened a few weeks back and that you were highly aware of.

  “So, you guys actually decided to throw a low profile party, hm? That’s a first,” you comment as Seonghwa opened the door and took a step back to let you in the frat before taking your jacket off, which he quickly took it in his hands as he closed the door. “Is anyone else coming?”

  You asked, looking around, trying to see anyone, but the house looked rather empty. “I don’t know, but the main entertainment has finally arrived,” he purred against your ear, making you shiver as you smirked, keeping your composure. “Care for something to drink?”

  “Sure, I’ll have whatever you are having,” you answer quickly, trying to brush off the shiver as you follow him towards the kitchen. “Heard it was a get together with friends… Was kind of expecting more people, if I’m honest.”

  “Anyone in particular?” Seonghwa asked as he handed you a bottle of soju, clacking the bottles before bringing it to his lips, predatory eyes scanning your face. “Or are you asking to be sure you will be the only one here?”

  As he took a step closer to you, you changed the weight of your foot before bringing the soju bottle to your own lips. “No one in particular, and we both know I don't mind sharing attention.”

  Your eyes wandered across his face, lingering on his smirk before your fingers played with the necklace that hung low on his sheer shirt, the small opening where the necklace hang allowing your fingers to brush along the skin, as you noticed the smirk on Seonghwa’s lips grow slightly, his tongue poking out before you move away from him with a smirk.

  “C’mon man, a hundred!”

  “Fuck off Wooyoung, I’m not joining,” Mingi said pushing Wooyoung slightly chuckling as both their eyes landed on you, “it will be just another night and you know it, you will lose money.”

  “So why you scared of betting?” 

  Wooyoung smirked at Mingi with raised eyebrows. “What you two up to, this time?”

  “Betting if you and Hwa finally give in and fuck,” Wooyoung says bluntly making you scoff as you took another sip of your drink as you watch Seonghwa from afar talking to a few other people. “I’m betting it will, but the others are sure it’s just another night where you two keep with your cat and mouse game.”

  “He knows I’m down, it’s in his lane,” you chuckle at Wooyoung’s words as you finish your drink. “I’m getting another bottle, do you guys want it?”

  Both denied as Wooyoung continued to patronize Mingi, making you shake your head as you moved past Seonghwa, a little too close for comfort as your hand brush on his ass and you notice his eyes fall on you as you kept going to the kitchen, giving him a smirk as you open the fridge to get another bottle of soju.

  “That’s your fourth bottle,” you hear Seonghwa’s voice, seeing him eye you from the counter, the bottle on his hands half empty, “shouldn’t you slow down?”

  “Oh, is the mighty Park Seonghwa worried about me?” You smirk as you choose your bottle, opening as you eyed him. “That’s adorable, and I would actually believe it if it was a different scenario…”

  “Why do you think I’m not?” 

  His eyes followed your form as you walked towards him, his hand instinctively finding your hip pressing it lightly, as he noticed your breath hitch as the bottle met your lips. 

  “Because we are at a party, a chill one, where nothing major is gonna happen…” Your eyes followed down to his sheer shirt, nails tracing down, touching his skin and abs over the shirt as you reached his pants, fingers vagally there before it went to the hook of the pants. “And I’m getting bored.”

  His hand on your hips pressed, making you bite your lip as he took a step closer, his lips hovering over yours as his eyes studied every reaction. “So you intend to get drunk?”

  “It’s not a solution, but it’s a possibility,” you say as your body gets closer to him, the freaking magnetic relationship you had whenever you two were together. “You have pretty friends…”

  Your eyes avert for the people behind Seonghwa, who follows your eyes as it lands on some of his colleagues and friends before reaching yours with a small knowing smirk. 

  “I don’t think they are available…”

  “Funny, because some of them already engaged in a few conversations with me,” you chuckle watching him, as one of your fingers extended and touched near his crotch area lightly, “and i can’t say I’m not interested in what they have to say…”

  “Then have your fun with them, I’ll be waiting to hear about it later,” he hinted with raised eyebrows to you as his bottle reached his lips, his eyes never leaving you. 

  “Oh, so they are the kiss and tell type…” You murmur looking at his friends once more. “Might as well prepare for a performance then.”

  “You wouldn’t need to if they knew what they were doing,” his eyes burned on you, as a smirk played on his lips, his hand pulling you as it reached your lower back, pressing you against his, against the bulge in his pants. His lips brushed against your ear, “but hey, if you are gonna fake better put on a memorable show, which I’m sure you are more than capable of doing.”

  “I always do,” your voice sounded steady but your body was betraying you, as usual. “Wouldn’t be bad to not have to fake it everytime.”

  Your hands moved between your bodies as you squeezed his bulge lightly, hearing him wince. “Feeling brave today, are we?”

  “No, just needing to relieve some stress, after all, finals are finally over.”

  You brushed your lips against Seonghwa’s before squeezing his bulge once more before pushing him away with the hand that held the soju bottle as you moved past him, smirking. 

  “So this is how we are playing tonight?” Seonghwa said under his breath. “Good luck with your boy toy search.”

  He said a little louder, which you only raised your hand dismissing his comment, as his eyes lingered on your figure. The pants becoming a bother. Finals week had taken its toll on him, and just like you, he also needed a release. His eyes trailed on you as he watched you move, talk, touch and laugh at everyone's commentaries, a knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk always present as he called in one of his friends.

  As it usually happened, neither you nor Seonghwa engaged once more throughout the night as you went on and on talking to every male, choosing if you’d bring any of them back home with you. The soju bottle now empty as your eyes wander on the last choices.

  “Found them already?”

  The amusement in Seonghwa voice already told the smirk plastered on his lips. “Maybe…”

  “I’ll take that as no then,” you felt him get closer to you, his front pressing on your side. “I may have someone for you, if you want.”

  “Didn’t know you were into voyeurism,” your eyes quickly shot him a confused but amused look. 

  “And you seemed too bothered right now, so what is your answer?” 

  His hot breath against your neck and ear as you felt his lips touch your skin as his eyes studied you, as yours followed around the room trying to catch a glimpse of his friends, missing one as you turned to him with a smirk. Lips almost touching as you did, feeling his hand on your lower back. 

  “I guess you got my taste correctly.”

  “Darling, when I say I know you, I mean it.”

Lips quickly found your cheekbone as his hand pulled you closer to his body. You held any sound not giving him the satisfaction.

  “Cocky as always, aren’t you?” You chuckle but not move away from him, your nails scratching his abs through the shirt and subtly, as you feel them contract. “Why don’t you go get him then? I’m getting rather tired.”

  “He went upstairs though, should we go fetch him?” His eyes were siren-like, a small smirk as he took your wrist, guiding you up the stairs. The look from some of the boys from the frat only made you laugh as you shook your head. “What’s funny?”

  Seonghwa asks curiously as you reach the second floor. “Some of the boys looked at you guiding me.”

  “I guess that’s fair,” he chuckled as well, his demeanor changing a little as he kept his hand on your wrist guiding you through the rooms, reaching the one you knew to be his. “Someone spilled a drink on his shirt, he asked to borrow one of mine.”

  Your eyebrows raised, nodding still processing what was happening, as Seonghwa was a master of teasing you and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d guide you to the rooms — or his in specific — only to get you even more frustrated. Your eyes studied his features as his hand opened his room motioning for you to enter. 

   “I’m not fucking your friend in your room, Seonghwa.”

  “Who says anything on those lines, darling?” A chuckle left his lips. “Now, will you be a good girl and enter the room, or don’t you trust me to have your best interest in heart?”

  You bit your lip, noticing his gaze fall on them for a second before you motion to enter his room, eyes looking for the friend who was indeed with a shirt from Seonghwa and a stained one in hand. 

  “Oh, hello,” the boys said moving away from his phone, putting his shirt in a corner before his eyes fell on you and then Seonghwa. “Wingman, hm?”

  You shook your head at his words, noticing Seonghwa nod as you focused on the boy that took a few steps towards you. 

  “A good wingman, nonetheless,” your voice was laced with amusement as his friend reached closer with a smirk, his hand going to cup your face. “Now, shall we leave?”

  “Just give us a second, will you, darling?” Seonghwa said against your neck as you noticed both leave you, allowing you to take a breather. Of course Seonghwa would pull something like that. Few seconds later you hear footsteps and the movement of the door. “Thank you for being such a good girl, darling.”

  At that, the door closed the same second Seonghwa’s hands found yours hips pulling you against his front making you gasp, before chuckling lightly.

  “Smart, I gotta give you that.”

  “Couldn’t have made it easy for you to figure it out, could I?” 

  His lips quickly found your neck as you moved your head to the side giving him access as you arched your back, pressing your ass against his bulge. One hand found his on your hip as the other went to the back of his neck tangling on his long locks.

  “Of course, what would be the fun in that?” You chuckle before gasping as you felt him suck on the skin of your neck, as you put pressure on his nape, feeling his right hand lower towards your exposed thigh, the tips quickly wander to your inner thighs going up teasing your clothed core. “If you are just teasing this time, I swear —”

  “I’m done with your antics, darling, it’s time to put you in your place.” The whimper that left your mouth made him chuckle against your neck as he put pressure on your clothed clit making you jolt. “C’mon darling, I think we postponed this for far too long,” his hands quickly turned you to face him, one hand on your chin before going to your hair. “Why don’t we start with you on your knees?”

  You oblige letting him push you down, until your knees felt the floor, his crotch eye leveled, your mouth watering as his other hand undid his pants, the one on your head entangling with your hair as his pants fell, leaving him only in his underwear, the outline of his cock on display as you swallow hard. A light caress on your scalp was the only ‘okay’ you got before your hands quickly went to his waistband, lowering the underwear slowly. 

  His cockhead glowing with precum as you licked your lips feeling him pull your head near his pelvis, your hands pulling the rest of his underwear down as his cockhead quickly met the touch of your lips. The groan that left his lips making you smile as the pool in between your legs grew. As one hand finished pulling down his underwear, the other quickly met the base of his cock. 

  “Such a handsome face with such a pretty cock,” you said with a smile before opening your mouth, taping his tip on your tongue, feeling his fingers tighter on your head. 

  “Such a pretty filthy mouth, I wonder how it would look filled with my cum.”

  Without a warning, he pushed your head down his length, moaning as your lips and tongue made contact with his cock, your hand working on the base of the cock as the other rested on his thigh. In swift movements you started to little by little take him in your mouth, gagging lightly from time to time, before he let you breath, the spit line connecting your swollen lips to his cock only making him twitch before fucking your mouth once more. 

  “Fuck, darling, do you like when I fuck your mouth like that, hm?” One of his hands caressed your hollowed cheeks as he slowed his movements a bit, to be able to look at you. “Such a pretty little thing for me, taking me in your mouth so well like that, I wonder how your cunt feels if this is how well your mouth treats me.”

  You mumble with your mouth around his cock, making the vibration run through his body as one of your hands went up his abs under the shirt, which he quickly took it off, throwing somewhere along the pants and underwear as you started to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks, one hand on the base of his cock, sometimes joining in the movement your head was making. The sounds and cusses that went out of Seonghwa’s mouth only made you wetter by the second, if it wasn’t for your damped panties, you sure would have made a messy spot of arousal on his floor.

  At this point you tried your best to keep yourself composed, mouth open and holding yourself steady as he fucked your mouth, holding your head in place before his movements become more erratic. You could feel him twitch on your mouth the last few times, the cockhead reaching the back of your throat, your eyes watering as your nails sank onto the skin of his thigh before his release filled your mouth and throat.

  Before he could pull it out you held his base, slurping as you got the last drop of his cum in your mouth, swallowing and opening your mouth, putting his tip again in your tongue. The smirk along with the groan that left him was enough to make you want to do it all over again, to have him fuck your mouth once more, but his hand was quickly on your chin pulling you up, before connecting your mouths, making both moan against your lips. 

  Your hands quickly found his half-hard member, swift movements as your tongues explored each other’s mouths. His hand kept firm on the back of your head, holding you close to his as he ravish on your mouth, while the other went to your thigh, raising your dress to the waistline before slapping it harshly, making you jolt and moan against his mouth. A smirk could be felt as he slapped your ass one more time, pulling your hair, parting your lips, before smacking it once more, a glint in his eyes as he watched your whole body tremble.

  He quickly moves you to the bed, pushing you down as his lips meet yours once more, your hands moving to his hair as one of his keeps holding your neck, the other quickly parting your legs as he pressed his knee to your clothed core, the hand holding your hips in place as you instinctively you started moving slowly as he restrain your movements from the grip on your hip making you whimper against his mouth.

  “Please, please Hwa, I need — argh!” You complain as you feel the pressure of his knee against your clit, his mouth leaving wet trails of kisses along your neck and collarbone. “Please fuck me, please Hwa, I need you to —”

  “I said I’d put you in your place, not take orders from you, I’m sure you know the difference, right?” He hovered over you as he finished saying that, his hand previously on your hips going up under your dress to pinch your nipple making you whine and throw your head back onto the mattress. “I need an answer, darling,” he said once more, his lips hovering against yours as he forced you to look at him, his other hands massaging your breast as he pressured your clit once more, making you move your hips searching for friction, only making him chuckle. “Be a good girl and answer my question and you’ll get to cum, although I do like to play with my food before eating it, makes it even more delicious to watch you come undone on my tongue.”

  “Fucking hell,” you breath as you saw the smirk and watched his eyes fall to your parted lips, as the friction with his knee helped a little, but only made your insides burn with the need to have him inside you. “Yes, I-I know the difference, now ple-please touch me, please, Hwa.”

  “Looks like you know how to beg, that’s cute,” he said before both his hands found your dress, pulling it over your head, exposing the majority of your body, the only covered part being the place you wanted him the most. “Time to grant your wish, darling.”

  His lips quickly started a trail of wet open kisses down your neck, one of his hands holding your waist, the other playing with your nipple, pitching it as the other was finally met with Seonghwa’s mouth as he sucked in and played with the nipple, both with his tongue when he wouldn’t let marks over your chest. The lust in his eyes only got darker as he saw the marks embellishing your skin. 

  “Hwa, please… It hurts,” you whimper as you move your hips quickly against his leg, making him chuckle as he starts to kiss down your stomach, kneeling before you, siren eyes locked on you. “I’ve been good, now please fuck me.”

  Although you did plead, your voice carried a hint of demand that made Seonghwa arched his brows and smirked as his hands spread your legs wider. You lifted your upper body, resting it on your elbows as you wanted to see the sight of Seonghwa’s head between your legs, as you have imagined and dreamed about it so many times before, only to groan when he kissed your inner thigh, neglecting the heat coming from your clothed folds. 

  “Patience comes for those who wait, darling, and I rush for no one,” his voice was laced with lust and a hint of a challenge, making you bite your lip, knowing if you pushed his rules, he might leave you high and dry. His smirk grew as he realized you caught up with his hint. “I knew you were a good girl, a brat even, but good to know you can be easily tamed,” his lips touched your damped panties right above your clit making you jolt and curse under your breath. “Now, lay down on the bed and let me have my fun with you, okay, darling?”

  Before you could do as he said, his lips found your clothes core making you throw your head back with a moan, feeling his hands moving and pulling your panties to the side, his lips finding your sensitive clit making you jolt as he chuckled at your reaction, tip of his tongue touching your clit as he ravish on the sight of you squirming on his bed. Your hands quickly found his hair pulling it to you, which he obliged for the time being.

   As his lips enveloped and sucked your clit, his fingers that were parting your legs found your core, coming up and down your entrance, making you jolt and clench around nothing as he would never put them in too much.

  “Fuck Hwa, please please please please,” you squirmed already feeling tears fill your eyes as you looked down at him. “Fucking hell,” you said once more as your eyes met, the siren lustful eyes that you only dreamed of having between your legs before feeling his tongue play with your clit as two fingers enter you, making you throw your head back and arch your back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck!”

  You screamed as you felt the build up in your stomach, only for him to stop completely before you feel his hands tanking off you panties before hovering over you, kissing your lips once more as his fingers played with your slit before entering you and curling inside, his thumb pressing on your clit as you moaned against Seonghwa’s lips, cussing and begging at the same time, as all you wish was to cum.

  “My fingers or mouth, darling?”

  “Both.”

  “Greedy little darling, unfortunately you can only pick one,” you open your mouth to complain but only a moan escapes as he adds another finger making you squirm under him. “Choose now, or you won't have any.”

  “Mouth.”

  You say breathlessly as he lowers himself so his lips hover over yours. “Good girl.”

  His lips are soon connected to your clit once more as his fingers leave you making you whine at the loss and clench around nothing as he quickly starts to ravish on your cunt. His tongue enters you in places you never thought it would be possible as his nose flickers on your sensitive clit making you tug on his hair as moans, curses and Soenghwa’s name leave your mouth at each strip he licks and each time his tongue enters your core. 

  “Fuck Hwa, so good, fucking god—”

  “Cum for me darling, I want you to cum on my tongue, only then I’ll fill you up, so be a good girl and listen to what I say.”

  You could barely process what he said as the build up in your stomach became too much, as you tried to push Seonghwa away as the stimulation started to become too great but he didn’t pull away, smirking at how much you squirmed because of his mouth. As heat flushed through your body making you numb, Seonghwa took his type to lick you clean watching you jolt from how sensitive you were before hovering above you once more.

  “You ready for my cock, darling?” You just nodded as you watched him smirk, going for a condom that was in his drawer, quickly putting it on before positioning himself at your entrance. “I need to hear it.”

  “I want you to fuck me senseless, Park Seonghwa.”

  “My pleasure, my darling.”

  At that he thrusts fully into you, holding your hips in place, keeping steady as he watched you, wondering if it was okay for him to move. Once you started to breathe again and your hand met his forearm as the other went for your breast, he smiled and started to move. Steady at first, watching how your facial expressions would change, playing with your body as he wanted to see what would make you tic, what would bring the sweetest sound from your mouth, but most importantly, what would make you come back to his bed. 

  “Fuck Hwa, yes, please, just like — argh fuck, YES!” 

  You couldn’t care less if someone was listening, if you had to take the walk of shame tomorrow, if this was only a one night stand, how you’d face Seonghwa once more if that was the case, none of it matter, all it mattered was how well he was rearranging your organs as his fingers sank into the flesh of your hip and he’d pull you towards him. 

  “Is my greedy little darling enjoying my cock?”

  “Yes, yes, yes fucking yes.”

   Seonghwa smiled at your words as one of his hands left your hip to find your clit, making you scream the moment he started to put pressure there, feeling you clench around him, his eyes closing as he could only think about making you cum on his cock, think about hearing you moan like that once more for him. As he felt his own orgasm coming closer, his other hand went for your neck, squeezing it just enough to make you roll your eyes back as his thumb still moved slowly on your clit as his thrusts became erratic.

  “Cum for me darling, cum on my cock like the good slut you are, yes?”

  And that was enough to push you over the edge as you screamed, arching your back as you creamed around his cock, feeling his thrusts start to slow down before his last thrust kept steady inside you as you knew he had emptied himself. His hand on your clit went to the mattress as the one on your neck found your cheeks caressing it lightly before he locked your lips together. 

  “So that just happened.”

  He chuckled at your words, making you laugh as well, before he looked at you with the boba eyes you knew so well on certain occasions. 

  “I’m gonna pull out, okay?” You nodded whining at the loss of his cock as you watched him take the condom out and toss it on the trash as he got a cloth to clean you up, surprising you a little, bringing a chuckle to leave his mouth. “Are you okay?” He asked as he carefully cleaned you up, eyeing you with concerned eyes when you hissed a little and he quickly apologized.

  “It’s okay, Hwa, don’t worry about it,” you comment, trying to get up already looking for your clothes, only to have Seonghwa hold you by the arm as your legs failed you. “I’m fine, I’ll be okay in a bit, just —”

  “Lay down,” it wasn’t a request although it sounded like it coming from his mouth, by how careful he said it. “You are not leaving this room, we will sleep and then talk about it tomorrow, unless you are uncomfortable —”

  “It’s fine I— I thought you’d want me to leave since…”

  “I’m a little cold, yes, but not that cold. I could never make a girl leave my room right after something like this, especially if that girl is you.” Your breath hitched and Seonghwa smiled at you. “Now, let’s go lay down, do you want one of my shirts to sleep on, darling?”

  You nodded, smiling at him as you sat back on the bed, as Seonghwa smiled at you handing you a shirt and boxers, which you thanked as he pulled the covers after putting shorts himself and laying next to you in bed.

  “Thank you, Seonghwa.”

  “No need to thank me,” he kissed your temple pulling you closer to him on the bed, his hands playing with your hair as he noticed you drifting to dreamland, chuckling lightly. “Goodnight, my darling.”

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DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[crheativity]

This is my first time requesting here, so...

Hi! Mind if I send in a request? Hear me out: the track club bois, the basketball club bois and the spelldrive club bois getting a kiss on the cheek from the reader after a successful game/track meet

A KISS FOR THE VICTOR

SUMMARY: After a successful club meet, you give them a kiss on the cheek! How do they react?

WARNINGS: Some of these may be out of character (I’m sorry I still have no clue how to write Jack, Leona and Floyd)

COMMENTS: Hi! Sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this request, there were a lot of boys hehe! I hope you don’t mind but since there are a lot I did shorter headcanons instead of a full thing for each boy. Also, since I have no experience writing kisses yet, I just did their reactions. I hope that’s okay! This is such a cute prompt though, thank you so much for requesting it!!

Also, if you enjoy this, please consider checking out my 200 followers event!

If you'd like to read part 2 with the Pop Music club and Equestrian club, click here.

TRACK CLUB

Jack froze, his eyes going wide. He coughed into his fist and looked away, desperately trying to regain his composure. A herculean feat, considering how adorable you looked gazing up at him like that. He smiles at you hesitantly - a small, wavering smile, before his cheeks go pink and he turns away to talk to his teammates. Although it seems he does not care, a keen eye will notice how his ears won’t stop twitching and his tail keeps wagging. 

Poor boy stopped responding immediately. He tripped on the sidewalk and almost fell over, he got so flustered. He can’t concentrate on anything now. He’s really sorry, he’s trying his best to listen to what you have to say, but his mind is replaying that kiss over and over… He can’t look you in the eye for the next few days. The moment he gets to crash in his room, he calls his mum. He briefly talked about his match, but mostly talked about you. How does he talk to you again after that?? He might be a little awkward over the next couple of days, but know that you’re constantly on his mind and in his heart.

BASKETBALL CLUB

Oh? You’re gonna give him a kiss? Well tough luck, he expects one every match from now on! So what if he doesn’t win? He wants one anyway! That’s how you can cheer him up after a match from now on!  But in the moment, he’s picking you up and spinning you around. His face is very red - whether from the exercise or from you, it’s hard to tell, but the bright red ears are a dead giveaway. He’s not gonna forget what you did, and loves to remind you - in the hopes that you’ll do it again.

Time stops for him and he stares at you, dumbfounded. His face heats up and boy does he wish he had his hood right now. He can’t talk to you or face you for the next hour as he struggles to figure out what to say. He does however feel really smug. Everyone in the match did super well, but he was the only one who got a kiss! From you! Ha! …wait. He was the only one who got a kiss. From you. He’s confused and flustered all over again. Please confess to him before he goes insane.

Ehhh~? Shrimpy’s giving him a kiss? Only one on the cheek? Screw that, he’s gonna give you an actual kiss! And a squeeze to boot. The moment you give him a kiss he registers that kisses are okay in whatever relationship you and he have and boy is he gonna abuse that. What are the two of you? He doesn’t care as long as you don’t, but if he makes you uncomfortable then he wants to know. Like Ace, he’s going to be expecting one for every match now, but if you don’t give him a kiss for some reason that won’t stop him giving you one~!

SPELLDRIVE CLUB

You thought Ace was bad? Leona’s gonna be so much worse. He doesn’t tease you quite as much, but he’s going to be incredibly smug, both after the track meeting and for the next couple of weeks after. Please be prepared for suddenly more Leona in your life, as the moment you press a kiss to his cheek he’s going to take that as a rite of passage to be almost constantly around you. He will encourage you to ditch class with him as much as possible. He just wants to spend more time with you now, and after that kiss, surely that means you want that too, right?

Ruggie nervously laughs it off, his cheeks going bright pink as he fumbles for something to say. He honestly, genuinely wasn’t expecting it - you managed to catch him so off guard that he doesn’t quite know how to act. Ah, but he’s not upset! He’s exactly the opposite of that, if anything. Elated, maybe? Who cares, his crush just kissed him! He is going to be bragging so hard to Leona and anyone who’ll listen afterwards. Maybe he’ll start giving you a couple more snacks - with a kiss as payment of course! Shishishi.

LET’S FREAKING GOOO. wait. Did you just kiss me-? Epel was in such a good mood after his match that his brain didn’t fully register that you just kissed him. He takes a break from celebrating for a moment to double check. When you confirm that yes, in fact, you did kiss him, his cheeks go apple red and he starts celebrating way harder. Calm down? He can’t calm down, this is the best day of his life! He won a match and got a kiss from a cutie to boot! The only thing that makes him calm down a little is Vil threatening to smack him with his shoe.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[shinynewmemories]

The exchange between Peeta and Gale in Tigris's basement used to be my least favorite scene in the entire book. I hated how it made Katniss out to be a heartless drone whose only motivation is survival. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and I'm now convinced I grossly misinterpreted the purpose of the passage the first times I read it. I don't think it's about Gale revealing some sage wisdom about Katniss; I think it's a revelation about how far gone Katniss and Gale's relationship truly is, and how little he understands the way she loves. AND it's about how much better Peeta understands Katniss, even in his half-hijacked state. Let me break it apart a tad to explain what I mean:

“She loves you, you know,” says Peeta. “She as good as told me after they whipped you.”

Peeta is correct on both counts. Katniss DOES love Gale, and in CF, she internally refers back to the whipping as the moment she "chose" Gale over Peeta. Peeta knew it then, and he knows it now.

“Don’t believe it,” Gale answers. “The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell... well, she never kissed me like that.”

Correct, but it's interesting that Gale refers to THAT moment on the beach as proof that Katniss loves Peeta. Because on one hand, that WAS the first time she felt and displayed sexual desire for anyone. But on the other hand, I would argue that there was lots more evidence for Katniss's love for Peeta; "anyone paying attention" could see it. So why does Gale point to the one time things got hot and heavy between them?

“It was just part of the show,” Peeta tells him, although there’s an edge of doubt in his voice.

Incorrect, but I'll give him half credit for the "edge of doubt" in his voice.

“No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that’s the only way to convince her you love her.” 

Here's where Gale starts talking kinda crazy. Since when has the issue been convincing KATNISS that HE (or Peeta) loved HER? Since the end of book 1, there has never been the slightest doubt in Katniss's mind that Peeta loved her. And she's never doubted Gale's love, although she admits it caught her off guard. Does Gale actually think that if Katniss could just SEE how much he loves her, she'd have no choice but to marry him? Or does he think Katniss is holding back because he hasn't "given up everything" for her? Either way, he paints Katniss as a fundamentally untrusting and self-centered person.

Also, he implies that Katniss needs to be "won over", that she needs to be PERSUADED to love either of them... Yikes. It's like he actually believes Katniss doesn't have the emotional capabilities of falling in love all on her own.

There’s a long pause. “I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then.”

Incorrect! Over to Peeta for an explanation of why that would have been a Colossally Stupid idea:

“You couldn’t,” says Peeta. “She’d never have forgiven you. You had to take care of her family. They matter more to her than her life.”

DING DING DING DING! I just picture Peeta making a ????????no??? face as Gale says he should have volunteered for him. Like?? Can you IMAGINE? Book 1 Katniss would have been screaming at Gale like "you absolute IDIOT. WHY would you throw your life and the lives of your and/or my family away. And for WHAT? MORON."

But I get it. Gale is saying this out of desperation. Because he can't say "I wish you had died in those games" (although perhaps that is how he's felt once or twice). And to be fair, if Peeta had never been in those games with Katniss, things between them now would be very... different. (shhhhh Gale doesn't have to know about the whole "this would've happened anyway" thing)

“Well, it won’t be an issue much longer. I think it’s unlikely all three of us will be alive at the end of the war. And if we are, I guess it’s Katniss’s problem. Who to choose.” Gale yawns. “We should get some sleep.”

Correct, nothing to object to here.

“Yeah.” I hear Peeta’s handcuffs slide down the support as he settles in. “I wonder how she’ll make up her mind.”

Even though Peeta is more in sync with Katniss, he doesn't presume to know how her romantic side works. Gotta respect that.

“Oh, that I do know.” I can just catch Gale’s last words through the layer of fur. “Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without.”

So I ask: if Gale is shown throughout this exchange to be mostly wrong about Katniss's motivations, desires, and possibly her whole personality, why would we believe he's correct about this?? I think the only conclusion is that he's NOT.

I'll end by adding Katniss's opinion about Gale's assertion:

It’s a horrible thing for Gale to say, for Peeta not to refute. Especially when every emotion I have has been taken and exploited by the Capitol or the rebels.

Katniss is DEEPLY hurt by what Gale said. And I no longer believe it's because it's the truth about HER. I think it's because it's the truth about how Gale sees her, and he sees her in a very hurtful (albeit incorrect) way.

[222col]

summer at the zweig estate

★ art donaldson x reader ★ patrick's little sister has always had a crush on art, it might not be the unrequited school girl crush she always thought when one summer at the zweig estate, art makes his move. ★ 2.8k ★ 18+ | cw: smut

summer at the zweig estate is always the most exciting time in the calendar year. art spends most of the season staying at patrick's, your parents darting somewhere across the world, leaving the three of you alone to spend the summer as you wish. just two years separate you and your brother, he's always instructed to look after you during your parents time abroad. "i can look after myself," you tell your mother, brushing you off before departing. "listen to your brother." patrick ruffles your hair. "actually, art's in charge, do whatever he tells you. he has more sense than either of you." the three of you wave your parents off down the driveway. "i'll happily do whatever you tell me to, art." your big eyes dazzling up at the tall blonde. your innocent facade making art blush. "don't even try it, donaldson. i know what you're thinking." patrick hits his friend on the back of the head as he turns into the house. "but i wasn't- i didn't even do anything!"

art's room is situated between you and your brothers, it was originally a spare bedroom, but dubbed art's after his first few summers on the estate. posters and belongings of his staying there through winter when he's been away at school with patrick. you spend more time in art's room then you'd like to admit, stealing random t-shirt's he's left behind and reading books he keeps at your house. occasionally sleeping in his bed when you knew it would go unnoticed by your parents. you'd always had a crush on art, he'd been in your life for years, and isn't it almost a right of passage to have a crush on your brother's best friend? as you got older you tried to rationalise, tried to distract yourself from your crush, but it wasn't until you noticed art flirting back, that you realised maybe this wasn't some unrequited school girl crush. maybe you can get what you want, and piss off your brother in the process, which is always a bonus.

last summer art watched you grow into your body, he'd always had a thing for you, but last summer was when everything became a little more real. swimming and relaxing by the pool with you wasn't so innocent anymore, definitely not when he got a boner watching climb out of the water. watching you come down to breakfast in just an oversized t-shirt, that happened to be one of his, and having to excuse himself to his room, because grey joggers aren't your friend when you're turned on. he'd been liking your social media posts during his time away from you, making small conversations with you throughout the year, waiting for summer to come around.

art knew patrick would kill him for even thinking about touching you, let alone acting on it. to patrick, you're his annoying little sister, but you're his little sister, and he refuses to acknowledge that you've even kissed a boy, despite the fact he's unfortunately seen it with his own eyes at one of the famous zweig summer parties. as much art never wanted to upset patrick, he was struggling with the idea of resisting you for a whole summer.

"so, first party this saturday then, yeah?" patrick drumming his hands on his knees, sat with you and art around the pool. "yeah, sounds good." you respond, laid on a sun lounger, white bikini and dark sunglasses hiding your eyes. "what's the theme?" art questions, with backwards cap and red swim trucks. every zweig party had a theme, you suggested it during one of the first ones you and your brother hosted, now you can't have a zweig party without a theme. propping yourself up onto your elbows. "1996 romeo and juliet." patrick hums at your idea. "it is one of our favourite films, the outfits are good, i like it." smiling at your brother you lay back on the lounger. "get the invites out then, zweig."

the party's in full swing by the time you're zipping up your dress, your angel costume adorning your body. walking your way down the stairs, people styling graphic button ups, sheer shirts and catholic inspired clothing. pouring yourself a drink in the kitchen and making your way to the dance floor set up in the garden. patrick's already made his mark on some girl in a cleopatra costume, rolling your eyes and moving past him to the centre of the floor. art makes eyes with you, shimmying through the bodies to reach you. silver metal armour clad to his skin, smirking as he looks you up and down. "looks like we're matching." he whispers in your ear over the loud music. "i think you did it on purpose." you whisper back, purposefully letting your lips graze the skin of his earlobe. "so what if i did?" your cheeks are almost touching, the music vibrating from the floor up your bodies, surrounded by dancing and drinking. it would be so easy to kiss you, it's all art can think of. moving his face to look at you, lips mere inches apart as you lean up to look at him.

the next thing, art's being dragged away from you by your brother, winking at you at patrick pulls him away from the crowd. "stop trying to fuck my sister." patrick laughs at his friend, sipping his beer. "i'm not!" he protests before patrick palms art's crotch. "why are you hard after talking to her then?" art blushes, patrick only laughs and returns to the crowd to find cleopatra. the party carries on to the early hours, the boys finding you to dance with you, lifting you up onto their shoulders after one too many drinks. slumping down on a lounger next to the pool once the party starts clearing out, patrick groaning as he falls onto the end of the lounger you're perched on, head falling in your lap. art perching on the floor to the side of you both. "isn't cleopatra waiting around for you? thought for sure she'd put out." you laugh at your brother. "she already did, fucked her in the downstairs bathroom an hour ago." shaking your head, pushing patrick off of you and into the pool. "you're so gross." patrick comes up for air, shaking the water out of his hair. "oh, you're asking for it, zweig!" your brother smirks, pulling you by your arm into the pool. art's sat laughing, before the two of you pull him in by his feet.

the three of you are laughing, splashing each other before art realises that your white dress has become sheer from the wetness. freezing in his spot, watching the fabric reveal your skin beneath it as you continue messing around in the pool. patrick notices art's gaze on you in his still state. "oh for god sake, you couldn't have worn a bra?" patrick laughs, pushing your head underwater. coming up for air, you realise your chest is fully exposed through the wet fabric of your dress. sober, you would have immediately covered up and ran for a towel, but in your drunken state, you're not so bothered. "and you, stop eye fucking my sister." patrick jumps on his friend, the two of them wrestling playfully in the water. laughing at them, you climb up the ladder out of the pool, feeling art's eyes on you. "c'mon, you two, bed time."

entering your room as the boys enter their own, stripping the wet dress from your body, hanging it over the chair at your desk. drying yourself off before changing into some pjs, plugging your phone in and removing your make up. deposing of the used make up wipe as your phone pings.

you looked beautiful tonight btw, if the way i was looking at you didn't make it obvious enough

your heart almost stops beating when you read the message from art. you know it's the alcohol running through his veins that made him confident enough to send the message. but that doesn't mean you're not blushing at the words. laying down on your bed, typing a message back to him.

thanks, art <3 you looked really good too, if the way i was looking back at you didn't make it obvious either

you can hear his phone ping on the other side of the wall. holding your breath as he likes the message. patrick is going to kill the both of you. putting your phone on your nightstand, falling asleep quickly as dreams of art wash over you.

stealing shy glances with art over breakfast, patrick suggests a movie day to distract from the hangovers. grabbing a blanket from your room, you slump onto the couch, patrick balled up on the armchair, art taking his place next to you. sharing the blanket with him as you scroll through netflix to find a movie. "keep your hands where i can see them, you two. i'm not having anything disgusting happen under that blanket while i'm sat right here." patrick orders, half-lidded as he rests his head on the arm of the chair. "ugh, shut up, pat." sticking some random movie on the tv as the three of you sit quietly together, snacking on all your favourites and laughing at the shitty jokes in the movie.

hearing snores from the chair next to you, art's hand reaches over the blanket to yours. his pinky finger barely touching yours. snapping your head towards his, finding his signature half smile already looking your way. your heart beating so fast, at just the contact of your hands. he looks over again at a sleeping patrick as he laces his fingers through yours. sitting together like that for a few minutes, before art shuffles himself closer to you. snaking his arm around your waist, bringing you to lean on his chest. "is this okay?" he whispers to you. turning to look at him, smiling and nodding your head. melting into his chest as you carry on watching the movie.

"what the fuck?" your eyes flutter open, your brother standing in front of you. both of you not realising that you must have fell asleep in each others arms. "why were you fucking cuddling on the couch?" art's blushing, too shy to speak. "patrick, calm down. we all fell asleep, i must have just moved over to him in my sleep." art squeezes your waist away from patrick's eyes, grateful for your lies. stretching as you move away from art to sit up properly. "oh yeah, that sounds so believable." patrick's arms are crossed, playing the protective big brother role. you roll your eyes at him. "patrick leave her alone, stop making it a thing." art states, cracking his neck. "oh of course you'd say that, donaldson. c'mon, i wanna go play tennis." art's face scrunches up at the idea. "i'm too hungover." patrick just stares at his friend. "it wasn't a question. let's go."

you know full well this has nothing to do with tennis, they probably won't even take their rackets to the court. you know patrick is taking art to the tennis court to warn him away from you, doing the 'if you touch my sister i'll kill you' thing that he does with every guy you bring home. you can almost see the idea of anything happening with art slipping through your fingers, no one ever comes out of the big brother talk with patrick ready to carry on dating you. patrick manages to scare everyone away with whatever goes down on those talks, you know he's just trying to protect you, while stroking his ego as he watches these boys almost shit their pants at his intimidation. grabbing your blanket from the couch, you go back up to your room to hide away for the rest of the day. it's late at night when your phone pings and lights up the room.

come to my room in 20 mins?

you read art's text, your mouth agape. you thought he'd steer clear of you for the rest of summer, not invite you into his room that same night. you jump out of bed, replying quickly.

sure :)

scrambling around your room, combing your hair, putting on some chapstick. slipping back into your gingham sweats and white tank. calming down your breathing before leaving your room and knocking lightly on art's door. he opens the door quietly, smiling down at you and inviting you in. he closes the door behind you, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting the space next to him, you of course oblige and take a seat next to him. it's peacefully quiet for a few moments, the two of you just looking at each other. "so why did you want-" your words are stopped by art's lips on yours. only briefly before he pulls away to look at you. your cheeks are red, a shy smile resting on your lips before pushing them back onto art's. he hums into the kiss, placing his hand on the curve of your back.

"patrick had a big talk with me today." he pulls away from your lips, his hand staying on your back. "i thought he might have." you sigh, awaiting the words from art's mouth. assuming this was a pity kiss, a what could have been kiss, a this will never happen again kiss. "he said he knows i've liked you for a long time, i didn't know he knew." your lip is between your teeth. "you like me?" he laughs lightly at your words. "of course i do, i thought you knew that, silly girl." he places a soft kiss to your forehead. "patrick said he's okay with it," you can't help the smile that spreads across your cheeks. "as long as i promise not to hurt you, and that it won't come between him and i's friendship, which of course i agreed with both."

you can't stop yourself from pressing your lips against art's again, hands in his hair as he chuckles into the kiss. your bodies falling onto the bed, the kiss deepening as your legs tangle together. shuffling up the bed, art rolls his body on top of yours. hands roaming your body as his tongue slips into your mouth. pulling at the hem of his shirt, signalling you want it off. smirking into the kiss, he slips his t-shirt over his head. his lips softly kissing the skin on your neck, your hands caressing his exposed back. "i want you," you whisper against his ear. "are you sure? you don't have to do anything you don't want to." he looks deeply into your eyes. "i want you art, please."

he's gentle with you, slowly removing your clothes, admiring your body as he slips out of his shorts. "you're so beautiful." he whispers, his big hands exploring your naked body. pushing your legs open with his knee, slipping his hand between your bodies to stroke your clit. whimpering at the sensation as he gradually increases the pace, not breaking eye contact as you hold back your moans. art works you to orgasm, watching every movement you make and worshipping every noise that slips from your lips. "such a good girl, you ready for me baby?" nodding your head as he lines himself up with your entrance, leaning down to kiss your lips as he slowly slips inside of you. letting you adjust to his size. "please, art, fuck me."

his hips start to move as you struggle to keep quiet, stroking your hair and whispering words of encouragement as his lips suckle against your jaw. his thrusts slowly starting to speed up, the room filling with sounds of skin slapping and quiet moans from you both. compliments fall from art as he sucks and nips at the skin on your neck, sweat forming on both your bodies as his thrusts get sloppy. pulling out of you suddenly as his come falls over your stomach, whimpering at the feeling. "fuck, that was better than i've ever dreamt." he breathes out, falling to the side of you. "you've dreamt about fucking me?" you giggle up to him, placing a kiss on his cheek. "oh, so many times." he laughs as you both come back down to earth. art grabbing a towel from the drawer and cleaning you up. slipping your tank and sweats back onto your body as art does the same, wrapping his arms around you as you both fall asleep in art's room.

patrick is already sat at the breakfast bar when the two of you enter the kitchen the next morning. "i know i said i was okay with it, but i'd just like to remind you both that the walls are very thin. you wasted no time at all did you, donaldson?" patrick's half laughing into his morning coffee, art blushing before pouring you both a cup. "i never said you could give her a hickey, you perv." patrick hits art on the back of the head. "i don't remember you saying i could fuck her either but i still did that." art mumbles into his coffee. shaking your head, laughing at the boys, hopping onto the counter as patrick began to chase art around the kitchen. "don't get all cocky now, donaldson! i can still change my mind!"

[writers-potion]

What is the fastest way to improve greatly at writing?

Fast-Forwarding Your Writing Skills

Developing your writing skills take only two things: READ A LOT, WRITE A LOT.

The question is, how do you read a lot and write a lot, in a relatively short period of time?

The first rule: don't give up. It may seem really slow now, but everyone can get better at writing. I know this advice is really stale, but it's one that I've told myself over and over again - just so that I can push through another slow evening.

Here are some things I have tried to get better at writing:

Memorizing quotes/passages/poems that I like. The things that I memorize would come back to me when I'm stuck mid-sentence, and I would try to do something similar. Sounds like plagiarism? Well, copying other authors' styles and mix-matching them is actually an important process of finding your own voice.

Conducting a "plot analysis". I was inspired by the method outlined in the book for this one. After you finish a book, make a list of all the scenes and try placing them into a three-act structure. This will help you (1) familiarize yourself with plot dynamics that work (2) understand your genre better.

Reading a book more than once. Honestly, all of my first reads are just for the story. I gobble the plot up, without paying attention to anything much. On my subsequent reads, I'm able to pay more attention to the way descriptions are done, or how the chapters are divided, etc.

Copying a book by hand, word-by-word. So far the most inefficient method (haha), but this exercise does help you pay A LOT more attention to how the author is using diction, syntax, dialogue, etc. to actually "construct" a book.

I hope this helps! :) If you're reading this and have tips of your own, please comment! >>

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”

[neetily]

Kinktober 2024 — Demon Whitney

— ✧ pairing: M!Whitney / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 10,467 — ✧ warnings: incubus demon, dubcon, mind break, degradation, breeding, creampie, aphrodisiac, bullying, name calling, multiple orgasms, blowjob, throatpie, floating sex, cervix fucking, claiming, dacryphilia, piercings — ✧ synopsis: he did warn you, after all. don't make a deal that you can't hold up, or you'll find yourself in some serious shit, slut.

— ✧ A/N: if you asked me why i struggled so much with this piece, i wouldn't be able to tell you why. i hope you're unable to see the difficulty i had when reading it, and i hope to god it all makes sense. im going insane. thank you for reading.

also, this entry to my kinktober list is perhaps the most 'lighthearted' of the bunch, so enjoy it while it lasts lmfao...

— ✧ kinktober masterlist

He knows your sordid type well enough by now, which will ultimately be your downfall.

Lonely, first and most of all. Like an abandoned little puppy kicked to the side of the road that is life, so easily forgotten about by your peers— which means that, for him, you’re effortless. Far too simple of a target for a demon of his calibre, of course, but beggars cannot be choosers in his line of work. He’s become well acquainted with that fact by now, given how long he's been night stalking after your kind.

Maybe you’re just weird, actually. Maybe that’s why you’re left sorely untouched yet, in which case it’d be your own fucking fault for not learning the rules of your community and fitting it by now; there are cues to social interaction, y’know? Or, perhaps there’s a more reasonable explanation as to why you’ve been left all alone and in his company… Like the fact that you’re into some fucked up shit, evident by the way he floats precariously in your dark and messy room, lights already dimmed for his absolute pleasure. That’s probably it, right? Nobody wants to be friends with a fucking freak who spends her free time combing through tomes of the dead, flicking through page after page to find the exact chapter bearing his name. A woman on an unholy mission; it’s understandable that others would brand you as an outcast given your penchant for, well… him.

Secondly, you’re desperate. In part because of how lonely you are, right? Clawing at your own throat for something, just a little bit of anything, really. You’re not so different from his usual clientele in that respect. He can already taste the hot hopelessness swirling in your empty heart, thick and gloopy like tar, and he can’t fucking wait to swallow it all up for you. But you were never free of sin in the first place, were you? The slight parting of your lips in sheer awe of his presence is promise enough, comparing him akin to a tall glass of water, aren’t you? He can’t blame you, a lifetime spent stranded in the middle of a desert pool is enough to make anyone desperate enough for a demon, grasping at every single straw that passes by you, just for a fucking chance at some human connection. It’s so funny how sad and pathetic you look right now, big puppy eyes begging up at him wordlessly; please, just a little bit of anything, even a closed fist would do. Pathetic little girl, fuck, his tight underwear is already tenting towards you at the mere thought of corrupting your wishes.

You should have never settled on him, don’t you know that he’s no good for you, darling?

But most of all, there’s only one true type of girl who’d even think to try and employ his services seriously enough to view him in person. Scanning through passages of bad handwriting, likely hours spent decoding and translating— all in the vain hope of meeting him... You’re quite simply a grade A fucking slut. Whether in practice or in heart doesn’t matter matter to him, it’s the same difference at the end of the day. But you, however, appear the be the latter. Fucking whore deep down, your already blushing body is a dead giveaway, just begging for a beating, ain’t she?

Poor thing, you probably don’t even understand why your tummy fills with heat upon his arrival, do you? Prickling arousal through your veins from his mere presence alone, about the only thing that you’ve done right tonight is listen to your body and sought out help.

It’s just a shame that you seek it from him, dummy.

Carefully, he remains floating in place before you. One leg hooked over the other, leaning back a little to take a proper look of your trembling frame— is that from fear? Or perhaps… excitement? He’d be happy with either option, really, because you’re a real pretty one. For a fucking loser, anyway. And your room ain't half bad; he’s fucked mortals in much more disgusting places before— he still remembers the countless basement dwellings he’s regrettably fucked in, ugh… But you, you vile little creature, knew he’d want better, didn't you? A side smirk tugs on his lips at the way you gulp at his half lidded gaze, like a lamb put up for the slaughter. Don’t wanna bite first? You have thought this through though, haven’t you? Summoning a demon, let alone one borne out of lust, is no easy task. One as strong as him, too. A swift glance down under him shows your perfected circle, each point and curve of it meticulously painted in the hopes of a successful show. And, well, he can’t rightly let you down now, can he?

His arrow tipped tail swishes idly behind him, a low hum of approval crawling up his throat as he fixes his hair for you, keeping one eye hidden behind his blonde bangs. While he certainly views your kind as the lesser race, he’s not about to look as destitute as you currently appear— standards and all that. He’s got a reputation to keep up as the number one fucker; metaphorically and physically. And that reputation seems to extend to the living realm too, if your subdued reaction to his commanding appearance is anything to go by. Dumb little girl, his cock twitches for your attention at the way you already seem to know your place beneath him.

So much so that your voice is lost on you, right? He’s been through this a thousand times before— perhaps even millions of times. So many faces, names, backgrounds. But always the same experience at the end of the day. Is he that scary? Barely there clothing keeping your mind racing as his cock bulges behind the skimpy fabric, showcasing the smallest peek of his branding tattoo upon his pelvis. His chest is on full display for your wandering eyes too, pierced for your perverted mind to dwell on; look, he communicates wordlessly with you. And like a fucking dog, you listen. Watch, his tail swirls, and your eyes, too, spin with the movement. Even his cracked horn is attractive to you, right? Perfectly sized for your grabby hands— God he can’t wait to fucking ruin you. Destroy any chance of salvation you’ve got left, if you even had any to begin with given the way you eye fuck him from the floor.

He just adores little freaks like you.

But alas, his presence seems to have sapped all of your courage. Where was that stupidly honest girl who spent all that time attempting to summon him anyway? And why did you replace her with such a meek, pretty mutt, trembling before his very boots?

It’s clear that you don’t want to make the first move— it’s rarely the case with you humans, so he steals the opportunity away from you before your small little brain has a chance to catch up with itself. You’ve fucked up now, slut, is what he’d like to say. But he’s nothing if not a business man, and he’s learnt well enough by now that he must butter you up a little, as it were, first. Formalities and all that boring shit, ugh, perish the fucking thought.

Especially since his cock is already rock hard and raring to go, he can already tell what you want from a simple glance at the way your whole body shivers at the wet spot forming against his panties.

“So,” he starts, but then you instantly flinch. And he has to try really fucking hard to suppress a sadistic smile at the sight. You've got some real pretty lips, actually. He wonders how they’ll look when stretched around his throbbing cock, all puffy and wet with spit... He clears his throat, shakes his head, and then tries again. “So, what’s the deal?”

You’ve read the rules by now, surely. They’re contained in the texts you used to summon him, his gaze flickering to the tome by your side— opened right on his page. But fuck, the human who wrote it could have at least drawn him better, surely? Looks nothing like him! The illustration does very little to capture his hard worked for abs—hours upon hours of fucking will do that to ya—nor his well cared for hair. His horns appear to remain intact on the pages too… God, it’s old. He should ask someone to update it, if only to appropriately depict his meticulously cared for beauty.

But for as stunning, quite literally, as he is, he can practically see your dumb little head working overtime to catch up to your current predicament. Self imposed, mind you. Rule number one, he can freely deny your request if he so much as wants to. He hasn’t felt the need to do so with anyone yet, so he cant see that rule being an issue now, not with someone as depraved as you. Rule number two, once he accepts your request, he must see it through to the end. He’s always prided himself on being a man— or demon, rather, that follows through on his words, so you needn’t worry there. And rule number three, you must give something up to him in the trade. Traditionally, that’d be your soul, but there are other means to please him.

He’s got an inkling you’ve not got much else to present for his tastes, though. Lonely little girl, poor in all respects, aren’t you?

“Well..?” he prompts you when you only sheepishly gulp up at him. “Out with it, mortal,” he spits the title as if it pains him to even say it, puffing his fringe from his face in feigned annoyance. It's a mere show and dance, but he figures you might appreciate it from the way you wriggle in place. “What’s the deal?”

“Um…” God, you even sound like a fucking loser. Just that one single syllable and he’s already rolling his eyes at you, though his cock nonetheless jumps at the sound of your hesitation. Stuttering and tripping all over your thoughts; haven’t you thought this through enough already? Lonely little girl, need to summon a whole ass incubus to quell the fire in your tummy? Got no humans who wanna touch you the way you need? Fucking pathetic, how utterly terrible for you, it’s laughable.

Fucking hot is what it is. Especially when you mumble a stupid little: “Y-Y’know… the usual…”

And fuck, he can’t deny the way his cock fucking throbs to life any longer at how stupidly desperate you are. Your voice is utterly dripping in loneliness, a needy plead of understanding. Of course, he does understand you. And fucking well at that, just like all of the other useless saps he’s had the misfortune of serving. But there’s a hint of something sweeter in your voice, too. A little taste of kinship, perhaps?

He can’t wait to fuck it out of you, whatever it is. Would that he could reach his fist down your throat to grab it all for himself right now, but you humans are soft and squishy and not built for such horrid actions, right?

“What’s that?” he sneers back at you, obvious in his false distaste of you. “Didn’t quite hear ya, c’mon. Speak up, human.”

He’s only giving you a taste of what's to come, he reasons with himself. You better get used to it, and soon too, if you’re ever to explore the side of you that you’ve yet to embrace. And he’s always enjoyed playing with his food, teasing with you as his cock dribbles precum against the barely there clothing he’s opted to wear tonight, flirting with his tail as it swings back and forth behind him. He had a funny feeling he’d be meeting some idiot like you tonight, so he tried his best to look the part.

“I— um, y’know… s-sex, in exchange for…”

A few more empty seconds pass, and he lets out a telling heavy sigh at your reluctance to voice exactly what you want. He hopes you aren’t this bland in bed, too. Lest he forgets that it’s often the quiet ones who are the real nasty freaks, right? Biting down on his bottom lip briefly to still his expectant heart.

“Your soul, right?” he finishes your sentence for you, snickering to himself at the way you hang your head low before nodding, as if he was the kind of company to act prude in front of. Fucking idiot.

“But,” Oh? The dummy actually has some sort of confidence? Enough to speak up with a question? His cock oozes some more, see, I was right about her. “What do you plan on doing with it? M-My soul, I mean? I wanna know before, um...”

He clicks his tongue idly. Such a let down, and yet still, lust pools in his tummy for you. He’s sure that you, too, can feel the tingles travel down to your clit. Is that why you're having difficulty talking right now? Can't catch your breath? “Whatever I want.” He answers you plain and simple, because it's true. It'd be his, you wouldn't even think about worrying over such a stupid question by the time he's done with you, so what does it matter if he answers you honestly now?

“Right, but I mean… what will you actually do with it…?”

He pauses for a moment in faux thought, then promptly follows the action up with more meaningless platitudes in the form of an absent yawn and stretch. Like he’d rather be anywhere else than right here, in your dimly lit bedroom, feasting upon your shivering body with a trembling cock and excitement swelling in his chest. “Who cares for the details, my sweet?” he internally gags at the false show he must preform before getting you under him, but nonetheless keeps you hooked on his sugary sweet lies, because he's an expert in his field. “All that matters is that I accept your request, which is what you wanted, right?”

It’s fun at least getting to watch your lagging expressions catch up, a bubbled quirk of your lips causing his chest to tighten with agitation— you’re fucking gagging for it, aren’t you? Nodding so coyly, like he’s putting words in your mouth, which he’d never; it’s against the rules of his existence. Though even if you play shy with him, he’s well aware of the darkness tainting your soul, he can almost taste the depravity in your every gasp and sigh. You just need help setting it all free, right? And, well, you can call him biased all day if you want— but he just knows that he’s the best damn demon out there to help unlock your deepest fantasies, to provide you with the lewd affection your heart oh so eagerly desires.

Losers like you always do desire, that is. Deeply, in his experience.

A tut automatically rolls off his tongue at your degenerate display, though hidden behind layers of put on shyness, he can see right through you. And he’s certainly not much better himself, he’s merely more honest. He can’t exactly afford not to be, what with the way his cock already demands your attention, red hot and angry under his panties, rubbing nicely against the soft fabric to leave him cooing for more. He clears his throat to rid the faux showmanship from his chest, letting his float drop with his heels clicking against your floorboards.

You’re so fucked, he muses to himself. Taking in the sight of your seated position by the chalked sigil on the floor, how small and soft you look down there. Humans are, always, much too soft for his liking. Unable to withstand his speed or stamina as well as his fellow kin can, but he rises up to the challenge of the glint in your eye with a puff of his chest.

It’s as hes standing right before you, tall and imposing with his fat cock pointed towards you—can you see his balls already from that angle? How fat and fucking full they are for you, the veins running along his cock just popping under your unknowingly sultry stare—it's there that he levels with you. Metaphorically speaking, because is he fuck physically dropping down to your debauched level, regardless of who he is. He’s not just cocky for the fun of it— though it is fucking fun, watching you grow smaller and smaller by the second as he inches closer, like your body intrinsically understands her place under him. But he’s got the skills and the stories to back his attitude up, to prove why he deserves to carry himself with such confidence, making sure you shake and shiver just a bit more out of apprehension before offering you a final warning.

But it’s not really a warning, not with how easily he grabs at you, swiftly forcing you to stand on two feet as his commanding presence demands of you. Wobbly knees and all, he struggles to stop the eye roll that begs to scold you at how eagerly you try to follow his instructions, whether you’re aware of it or not. It's only natural, given his lustful existence, that you'd want to adhere to him. It’s cute, you fucking predictable whore.

“Didn’t anybody teach ya not t’make deals that y’can’t hold up, slut?”

Venom spits from his tongue in the reprimand, his pointed tail swishing behind him in interest at the way you pleasantly shiver in his bullying hold, unable to speak up for yourself as he sneers down at your quivering bottom lip. And then, disgust tugs at his expression, boring dagger eyes against your woozy gaze back at him.

Of fucking course. Loser girls like you don't know what it's like to receive attention, right? Any kind, even his perversion, is good attention to you. Even if you don't understand why your tummy turns with butterflies upon his seedy inspection; look, he likes your tits! That’s enough, right? That makes you feel all squirmy in his hold, struggling to keep your composure at the way he eyes you up and down, as if sizing you up. It is, obviously, not even a fucking question. But he deeply enjoys the way you appear meek under his gaze, his presence seemingly already affecting you to the point of submission— dirty fucking mutt.

“You’re gross.” He barks at you, letting go of you without warning only to selfishly watch you fall back down onto your ass— there’s no need to treat such an awful girl like you, one who gets off on getting bullied into submission, with any kind of respect. That’d only work against his goals, right? No… lonely girls like you need mistreatment, because it’s all you’re fucking used to getting anyway. A cycle of abuse that’s led you straight to him, his cock drooling all over himself at the mere thought of your misfortune. Poor thing, you just don’t know any better! So here you are, scrambling to get back onto your knees at least as he tugs his explicit panties to the side to show you exactly what he thinks about whores like you. He can do nothing but take advantage of you, really, because it’s what your body is begging him for.

But for someone so fucking lame in every respect, you somehow manage to endear him with those big wide doe eyes and fluttering lashes staring back at his cock when it greets your line of sight. Adorning the tip is a little silver ball, pierced just for you, didn’t you know? Fat and wet, beads of precum already dripping from the metal and onto your floor with a light thud! from the way you practically drool over him already. Is his stink that strong?

He hasn’t even started subduing you with his pheromones yet, you fucking slut. Not on purpose, anyway. Maybe a little unknowingly, but it’s like he said— he can’t help himself when it comes to loser girls like you. Residing a soft spot in his heart for you in spite of his rough exterior; you’ll be so fun to toy with.

With a click of his fingers, a cigarette pops into his mouth, shortly followed by a flicker of flame between his index finger and thumb. He takes a long inhale of the stick, a moments breather to carefully watch your movements as your lips part and hot air fans across his demonic dick. Fuck, you must know what you’re doing to him, right? Barely exhaling any smoke before puffing away at his cigarette again in sheer sexual tension, and then he exhales the excess smoke across your face— a fair exchange, don’t you think? But he can’t stop himself from looking at those pouty lips. Pretty and puffy, so soft looking even from afar. It’s impossible not to want to fuck em, ruin them and make em all messy with his precum. The perfect lip gloss, don’t you think?

“C’mon then,” he prompts you nonchalantly, wagging his cock in your direction with his free hand while adopting a rather bored expression at your avid display, a smirk working its way to his lips at the thought that you probably have zero experience in this regard. So he helps, just a little. Just to get things moving for his own sake. Grabbing the base of his cock unceremoniously to tap his tip against your pouty lips, inevitably smearing copious amounts of precum across them to leave you all glossy and glazed, shit… His piercing looks so nice when pressed against your pout. “Get to work, slut.”

You huff a little, eyes crossed momentarily to watch another fat bead of pre dribble from his tip. Or are you eyeing up the silver adorning it? Wondering how it’ll feel when lodged far down your throat, further than you’ve ever felt before? “Aren’t you supposed to be working for—”

“Quit yer fuckin’ yappin’.” he scolds your question by taking the opportunity of your useless mumbles to instead shove his cock past your open lips, puffing away at his cigarette lazily as you sputter around his surprise intrusion. Sure enough, he’s here to service you, but he’s been called a selfish lover plenty times before. And he’s not about to change that for some fucking slut like you, a lowly human bossing him around? Fucking never. And besides, a little cock sucking is the least you could do for him, providing the experience he’s about to give you anyway.

But rather shockingly, you simply let him rest his tip upon your tongue without much resistance. Dribbling salty precum across your taste buds— not that you had much of a choice in the matter to begin with anyway, but it’s real nice to feel you relax around him immediately, enough so that his hips twitch further into you and his cock slips down your throat with ease. As much of it as you can fit in for a novice, anyway. You might have sucked a few cocks in your short lifetime; pity parties, no doubt. But you’re about to learn real fucking fast how to suck a cock well. Lucky you, you’ve got the best teacher for just that.

Without warning, he fish hooks your cheek. Devilish nails just barely digging in against the inside of your cheek, pulling your mouth further open for his gawking enjoyment. He leans back with the movement, towering above you to adore at half his cock down your throat. “Here,” he clicks down at you, blowing another trail of smoke against your face and likely down your throat for you to choke on. The snap of your cheek closing back around his cock causes him to hiss with unashamed excitement, trailing his nails against your scalp before grabbing at it. Rough and needy, he dribbles some more precum against your tongue— but with purpose now. “Give it a min.”

And true to his word, a minute is all it takes for him to feel your jaw slacken around his fat cock, precum laced with numbing; cause you’re a fucking baby, apparently, and need his help to suck a cock. But he’s too prideful to make this experience anything other than the best for you, if only to save his closely held reputation. He wonders if you can taste the metal adorning his tip, too?

“There ya go,” he praises you with a sickening smile, flashing his pearly white fangs as much of a threat as it is genuine joy from how easy it is to slip further down your tight throat now. “Much better, right? Slutty fucking throat, shit—”

He accidentally fucks a little too much of his cock inside all at once, coaxed into movement from how hard he throbs for your warm, wet little maw, and he has to drop his cigarette from his lips to hide a genuine moan behind his arm. The fuck— he’s never once felt so good so fast with any slut before, but the feeling of your squirmy tongue obediently wrapping around the underside of his cock as if on instinct fucking gets to him. Unfairly so, really, because he’s soon gripping at your hair even tighter, and yanking it back and forth; settling into a brutal pace from the get go. Far too mean for a slut in training like you, but he figures that if you already have pleasure shivers rolling down his spine just from throating his cock a little, you can handle further roughhousing. Must be his pierced tip, right? Cold metal to cool down the heat he fucks in and out of your throat, dripping precum right down your throat from how well he abuses you; fucking choke on it, slut.

His touch is as unjust as his thrusts down your dulled throat are, humping his hips against your cheeks with resounding slaps! against your chin with how wet with precum his balls are. Or is it spit? Drooling out from your wanton lips with his eager fucks, keeping your head pinned to his pelvis as he ruts into you with reckless abandon. Like his reputation means nothing to him the moment he watches your doe eyes roll back in impish desire and he can almost swear that he feels you smile against his rock hard cock. “Feelin’ good already, huh?” he mocks you, in spite of how much he’s acting up himself. Doing his best to save face in an effort to keep your submission by his side, but his dominance slips with every pass of his cock against your constricting throat. “Haven’t even touched ya yet, an’ you’re already gagging fr’more, aint’cha? Pathetic” he tries to laugh, but it comes out gasped and strained— embarrassing.

“You're fucking filthy,” he distracts you with more dirty words, fucking your face with a particularly cruel thrust to emphasis his explicit power over you. And you should be fucking thankful that he offered to numb your throat first with how fervently he chases the good feeling welling up in his tummy. Muscles all tight and taut, making sure you can’t escape his greedy fucks out of sheer need to stake his claim on you, to literally steal your breath away as his own. “You might look like a good girl, but fuck me,” he half laughs, cutting the sound of enjoyment off short so as to not reward you too much. That, and he has to exhale a huff of bliss from the way your numbed throat still yet squeezes tight around him with every dirty swallow you instinctively make around his tip. Like you enjoy having him violate you, using you for all your worth— that is to say, just your body. “Might look like a good girl, but y’were fucking made fr’takin’ cock, yeah?”

He knows a sinner when he sees one, and you sure looked so lonely, y’know? Creeping in the darkness of your own solitary room, awaiting the forbidden creature of lust to crawl into your lap like some dog to save you from the purity cast upon you by an unforgiving God. But, it’s even better to have his thoughts come true when he can feel how much sin you’re dripping with, staining you chin all shiny and sticky with the spit his fat cock throat fucks out of you, drooling on yourself in an eager display of want. He can already taste how desperate you are, gulping down around his cock without even knowing, because your body was made to serve, to please, and he’s not about to let the opportunity you’ve unfortunately presented to him tonight pass by.

By the end of tonight, he promises to make you his. Stupid slut, you should never have made a deal with him in the first place, because look at you now... All dewy eyed and fucked.

He could hump your mouth for hours on end, all day if he had the time, at least until it's sore. But he doesn't; or rather, he can’t right now. Because it’s downright embarrassing how close he is to cumming already, his cheeks flushed under your glazed gaze and jaw tight with barely contained restraint— not that it matters too much anyway; as an incubus, he could go on for eternity if he could be bothered to. No refractory period and what not. Load after load buried deep down in your every hole, fuck… he just knows that you’d enjoy that, especially given the fact that you brace your little human hands against the fat of his otherworldly thighs just to offer him the gentlest bite of your nails digging into his skin, like the fucking whore you’ve always been deep down inside.

He’ll thank you, maybe, someday, for seeking him to fuck her out of you.

But not anytime soon, for he’s far too enamoured by the way your tongue glides along his cock, leaving his tip sopping wet with lots of spit thanks to his incubus influence. Except, somehow better than he’s ever experience before. Like he’s finding out how everything is supposed to feel all over again, exploring that expert whore throat of yours with heavy weight behind his every thrust and a bite of his lip. You might be more sin than he is, he thinks to himself mid stroke, hips stuttering against your lips as he feels the way the tip of your tongue pokes against his slit, rolling his piercing around, and he’s fucking done for.

He immediately promises to get back at you, sooner rather than later.

“Fucking slut—” he briefly chokes on his words, unbelieving of the fact that ropes of hot seed now coat the inside of your mouth, dripping down your throat for you to gulp at when his hips refuse to let up on milking himself. His tone is as scathing as his cum is plenty, leaving you to struggle to take him for once tonight; though he hopes that it wont be the last. He does, however, carefully consider the way that you almost immediately swallow up as much of him as you can, and how that can’t solely be down to his influence on you. That isn't the naturally secreting aphrodisiacs doing, is it? “Harlot, God— fuckin’ take it then.”

He needn’t be so rude, but the way you look back at his harsh words and even meaner touch with hearts in your eyes is all the motivation he needs to continue. If you were seeking purity and kindness, you wouldn’t be swallowing every last drop of incubus cum, now would you? Laced with aphrodisiac, oops… Maybe he forgot to tell you about such details?

You’re a quick learner though, he’s saw as much. Letting his cock drop from your cum stained lips with a loud gulp of air, all sticky and white as a string keeps him connected to you, and he can practically see the confusion present on your stupid fucking face.

And like the demon he is, he takes advantage of your state of inebriation.

“More?” he rasps down at you, his heart racing at the mere prospect, cock still rock hard and an angry shade of red before your gasping mouth. “Y’want more already?” he says it with such feigned surprise, as if it were utterly inconceivable that a hole like you could want for anything but his cock rammed so deep into you that you forget your own name. An attempt to shame you from his holier than thou position, even if only because he’s much taller than you. In fairness, while he’s obviously (the most) part to blame for your sudden descension into demon-hood, clawing at his legs like a woman starved, voicelessly begging for just a little more, please, then we can be done—he knows it’s never just a little more—he thinks that he can’t carry all the burden of blame. Not when you look so fucking cute beneath him, pathetic and small, as you should be. Relying on him to take care of you, to show you how good you can really feel when no one else wanted to even think about touching a fucking loser like you. It’s your own fucking fault that you summoned a demon tonight, let alone one made in Lust’s image, and actually struck a deal with him. It’s your fault that your soft and squishy and pretty human body takes his abuse oh so well, a taunting coo escaping his lips at the way you softly nod back up at him, dumb and stupid, like it doesn't matter what he's saying, only that he's talking, and you want to listen.

It’s your own fucking fault that he can’t reign himself back in, not now, not after experiencing how well you suck cock after a little coaxing.

“Dummy.” He mocks you, adorning a mimicked pout at the way you’ve so easily been put under his spell. “Up,” he practically commands of you, adopting a snap authoritarian tone to combat his shivering spine. “On the bed, then.” He points to your lacking place of rest, following your raring steps with his own slow ones, cock bobbing between his legs with his constant erection. He can’t help it, you’re begrudgingly too cute to ignore, annoyance present in the way he shoves you into position as soon as he’s close enough to get his hands back on you. With his back resting against your bed headboard, and you pushed down to the end of the bed, he leers at the way your thighs rub together in anticipation, following your gaze down to his leaking cock front and centre. The silver ball atop it sparkling in your dim bedroom light, beckoning you forward as much as his curling finger and devious smirk does.

All it takes is a quick snap of his fingers to see you undressed, clothing falling from your body as if by magic. Demon perks or something. But fuck— he has to physically cover his mouth to hide his apparent shock, biting down on his tongue to quell the want to praise how pretty you are underneath it all.

He’s never quite met someone just like you before. How you clamber into position so easily, happily mumbling something—he couldn’t care less, truthfully, for the meaning behind your words. Only that you’re wearing such a dumb smile while hovering his rock hard cock—without a thought behind those pretty fluttering lashes. Fucked your throat so good, right? Not a single thought, no worries or anxieties… you just feel good, huh? Just as he'd internally promised you. Of course, he’s accepting of his part of the blame. It’s in his nature to seduce, tapping into his seedy essence to lull you into a state of perpetual arousal; or for as long as he sees fit, he’s sure he’s got other things that need tending to besides your pretty princess pussy today. But the innate neediness present in your actions, in the way you playfully bite your lip when ghosting your hole over his cock, letting your hands fall against his chest for stability; and worse yet, he allows you to dig your nails in again too. How you have his brows furrowing and hands automatically finding home on your hips, toying with your skin with little pokes and pinches— you’ve got him stuck, acting out of pure selfish need to tear you in two. Got him feeling a little dizzy with desire, as if this wasn’t his literal job and he hasn’t got all the experience in the world when it comes to wooing. Like you were fucking lying to him this whole time.

Which isn’t true, he knows. He has to help you stabilise your wobbly legs as you tuck them under yourself, straddling his waist like a newborn babe. You certainly aren’t as experienced as he is, but there’s something innately lewd about your being that he can’t even hope ignore. Cock straining under you, jerking in an automatic attempt to fill your hole.

Something that he wants to fuck into submission over, and over, and over again. Until you’re crying and begging for his mercy, because how fucking dare you get to him like this? Have him feeling like a fucking virgin all over again… It’s embarrassing, a humiliating clutch on his chest that he grits his teeth at in response just to bear the pain.

“Hurry up, slut,” he grabs hold of your waist tighter, showcasing his greater strength with such ease that even he’s a little surprised when you almost fall off his lap. “Don’t got all day.”

While he’s reprimanding you, he understands that ultimately, he’s the one in control. And he fucking bets that you wouldn’t have it any other way too, given how disgustingly lovesick you appear under his spell. Allowing him to manhandle you to his hearts content, a mix of sweet sighs and stupid babbles; he can just make out a repeat of please tumbling from your cock stained lips, and he’d hate to admit just how much he fucking loves hearing you beg for him out loud.

Which is strange, because he’s never felt the same way with any other unfortunate soul who just so happened upon him, intentionally or not. But hearing you completely stop breathing when the ball of his piercing runs along your slit, only to penetrate your cute little cunt a second later, is like music to his blushing ears.

Blushing ears? For fucks sake. His concentration is dwindling the longer he lets his tip catch against your entrance, simply seeping precum against your hole—not that you need it, mind you. Not with how your cunt simply drools over his cock already, you can thank the aphrodisiac for that. It's just that... He fears that if he were to move too much, he might do something he’d regret.

And he wouldn’t want to break his new favourite toy just after finding her, right?

But you mewl so gently, a soft sigh of some words, mumbled between gasps for air as he keeps you still on his cock. A little “Whitney…” escaping past your lips, promising to be your own undoing at the mere first syllable of his name.

It’s been a long fucking time since anyone has called him as such.

“Slut,” he reflexively scolds you, emphasising his frustration with how utterly and annoyingly perfect you feel when wrapped so tight around just his tip, as if you were the demon of lust, and he was your unwilling victim. “You’re such a fuckin’ slut,” his cock humps into you in one flick thrust, buried as deep as possible as soon as possible to leave you choking on his girth. You shouldn’t be letting him touch you like this, treating you as a mere pocket pussy as opposed to the human being that you really are, but he can’t deny how fucking good it feels to force his way into your tight heat, causing him to choke on his own words. “Fuck—” is all that escapes him, and try as he might to continue degrading you, the wind is knocked out of him from the perfect squeeze of your cunt, so warm and wet and fucking tight for his unnaturally fat cock, and he has to shake his head to rid the thoughts that you were made for him specifically.

Perish the thought of getting attached to your tight little cunt, he adopts a bruising grip of your waist to have you idly grind his cock, circling your hips atop his pelvis until he feels like he’s actually in control again, and not a heaving mess under you. Until he can catch his breath, and focus solely on how good your insides feel when squirming around him like that, his attention unable to choose between your scrunched up expression of pleasure as his tip humps against your cervix, or the way your cunt lips swallow his cock whole, leaving no trace of him behind.

Holy shit— There’s nothing quite like loser girl cunt, right? Needy, desperate, fucking whiny, loser girl cunt. Begging on the end of his cock while you sit atop his fat balls, once again full of cum just for you. All for you.

In reality, he knows that he’s the slut. It’s bred into him, soldered into his very DNA to fuck all the moves, including little shits like you who drive him up the fucking wall from how good you feel, dripping desperation down his cock as he lets you get used to the stretch he forces you to endure; he doesn’t want to break you yet, remember? There’s time yet to destroy this perfect little pussy, you should be fucking thankful that he’s playing nice tonight. Treating you with kindness he seldom shows with others— even if it irks him to do so.

And lest he forget his demonic ways, clicking his tongue at you once to criticise just how easy you are for him. Barely holding yourself upright on his cock as he swirls you around lazily, doing his best to keep up the dominating appearances in the face of your complete lack of such.

“Wanna see how demons do it?”

He’s not really asking you a question— he’s aware that you aren’t of the right mind to provide him a proper answer either. And even he, too, struggles to get the words out. Trembling with pleasure under you, unknowingly letting his hips roll into you just a little, a real meagre amount of friction to coax him into action. He’s as much a victim as you are at the moment. And he can’t stand that. So without waiting for your reply, he snaps his fingers at your side and strengthens his grip on your waist.

If he’s being honest, he can’t quite discern whether you’ve noticed the change of scenery before you or not, but your wobbly frame gives your body away at least. Levitating mid-air with his cock buried balls deep in your pretty pussy, floating on thin air— a small party trick at best, but there’s a part of him that wants to indulge in you. To really enjoy stealing the last remnants of innocence—if you even had any to begin with—away with one final heavy sigh. For he must steel himself for what’s to come, his heart thumping unusually at the way you flutter your lashes back down at him, pretty fucking loser, it’s a shame this life is wasted on such a good fucking fleshlight like you.

He’s never once wanted to ruin a human as much as he does with you. To utterly desecrate you would bring him so much joy, he figures. Steal your soul, remove you from all that you’ve ever known, and eat you alive. Over, and over, and over again. With varying tempos, different settings, fuck you into violation for all eternity and then some. Only then, he thinks, will he be satisfied.

Only then will your debt be paid to him, for ruining him for all else.

“Look at me,” his voice comes out all raspy, dripping with lust to immediately grab your hazy attention only for him to gawk at the dopey smile you flash his way. “Look at me while I fuck you, slut.” His hips pull down, leaving only the tip to remain inside of your cunt for you to whine loudly at. The loss of stuffing causing you to claw at his chest, a pleased hiss crawling up his throat for him to bite back with pitying laughter. You’re so fucking dumb already, with only one load of cum seeping in your tummy, his cock twitches at the mere imagined scene of how you’ll act when he fills your pretty pussy up with seed too, drowning you in his sweet aphrodisiac.

And though he has to physically tilt your chin in his direction, drinking in the sight of your shivering frame that his tail automatically curls around, it’s worth the fucking wait to witness the pure nothingness behind those pretty eyes. And they’re so teary too, of which he isn’t sure is caused by the lack of cock in your cunt, or the fear of having him ram it back into you… But he feels this burning desire well up in his tummy to produce some more anyway.

It only takes him a moment to disregard his thoughts and act purely on instinct alone, as God had intended of him. As he fucking should, finally.

Giving in to the way his tip leaks and stains your insides as his, he fucks his full fat cock back into your too tight little hole, humming contentedly at the way you instinctively arch your back all pretty and shit for him, moaning a broken string of sounds when he doesn’t let up from that first dirty thrust upwards. The sight of you struggling to take his girth and length even in spite of the additional aphrodisiac his precum continues to coat your insides with is so addictive, has him throwing even more weight behind his humps than he usually does, just to torture you that little bit more. Because you can take it, right? Because you’re now his slut, and his slut just loves to take his abuse so well, right? Body and mind, fucking you at such a pace that you’ve got no fucking choice other than to just take his brutal assault to your cunt, his tongue poking out in sheer concentration of how the effects of his aphrodisiac reap results in the tightest cunt he’s fucked yet— like you’re somehow made more susceptible to his charms or something— fuck, he can’t fucking focus on his thoughts when you’re mewling so pretty like that, dumb little baby with her tongue lolling out and pretty tits bouncing with his every heavy, claiming thrust. But you’re taking him so well, beyond his rather low expectations, anyway. And it’s distracting.

Though, it really doesn’t matter the reason behind how well your cunt sucks him off, because all that tumbles out of his dry and hoarse throat is a fucked out meagre “Tight fuck, ain’tcha?” his cheeks warming at the lacking dirty talk, but it’s not like he hears you complaining or anything. Quite the opposite, really. Leaning into his abusive touch, bruising your hips as he holds you in one place in the air, ducking and fucking his hips instead of making you move so as to leave you a drooling mess of a girl. So attractive to him, the way you can no longer form anything coherent, simple sounds of enjoyment and surprise escaping your puffy bitten lips from how often you chew on em in sheer pleasure. The complete lack of, well.. Anything going on in your head at the moment coaxes him into driving his hips into you harder, a little faster, as if begging for your attention some more. Look, it’s me that’s making you feel so good. It was worth it, right? Selling your soul for some cock, fucking idiot, such a good fucking lay, holy shit—

It’s been a while since he’s had a fuck as good as this.

But he’s nothing if not mean, watching the way you so clearly enjoy his thrusts, fucking into you with some inhuman speed or rhythm or tempo that you’re not used to— an attempt to convince you onto his side, and it’d be clear to anyone watching that it’s working. You are, however, a mere mutt to him. A sexy one at that, he’d admit only to himself. Pouting and huffing and sighing and moaning; he can find no other word to describe you other than perfect. Which is exactly why he has to be mean to you, to regain his hold over you.

So he stops. Ceasing all movement, no matter how much it physically pains him not to feel the wet suck of your insides attempting to keep him inside, bringing a thumb up to smooth over your hips, his cock throbbing with unadulterated want at the way tears bubble over your lash line to mark your cheeks a shade darker. Exactly, that’s the kind of power he wants to hold over you, forever and ever, so long as you exist. Nobody would blame him for keeping this pussy all to himself, surely.

And if they did, he wouldn’t care.

But before you have a chance to voice your concerns over his limited movement— because he still continues to hump against you. Fully sheathed in your little hole, and still yet he attempts to fuck deeper with barely there humps upwards. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just what your body does to him. Leaves his mind in a hot daze, swallowing thickly in the face of your whimpers for more, please, gimmie more—

He snorts laughter back at you, rolling his eyes in a faux show of boredom. If anything, he’s barely fucking holding on, digging his nails into your hips as a last ditch effort to restrain himself. It only earns him a pretty gasp from you though, which makes his situation all the more dire.

“S’your turn.” He pats your ass a couple of times, smirking up at you when you squeal excitedly in return; you humans are always so receptive to his touch, it’d be difficult to deny how cute it is to feel the way you squirm around on his cock to prepare yourself, one of his hands coming down to support one of your legs to make the act of bouncing mid-air a bit more tolerable. Though it should be easy, he chastises you internally. Weren’t you paying attention to how well he fucked you moments prior?

“Fuck me like y’need somethin’ from me, yeah?” he taunts you, voice low and seedy, leering at your misplaced determination as you brace yourself upon his body— though perhaps his words were a mistake…

Because he certainly wasn’t prepared for you to match his energy, enthusiastically lifting yourself up for a second or two only to allow yourself to fully drop the moment you’re given enough freedom to do so, hanging on to his every gasp and groan as his mind reels to catch up to his bodily reaction; fat cock just oozing fat beads of sticky precum into your squishy hole, leaving him dazed with the full feeling of how your cunt tries to suck him in deeper, how she twitches and squeezes so expertly around his cock— he can’t fucking stand you.

So he helps, just a small amount. You’d barely even notice the way he fucks up into you a little extra when you slam all the way down on his lap, one of his hands coming up to roam over your thighs, your tummy, pinching at every inch of skin he can reach to leave you just as tingly as you’re making him feel right now. His body positively vibrating with sexual gratification, cock trembling against every inch of your cunt; all the way up to your cervix with little kisses from his piercing. It’s almost impossible to get a hold of himself, tummy muscles tense to bear the brunt of your eager bounces, arms flexed under the weight of your exertion. And he can see the sweat collect on your forehead, body warming under his incubus ways, his lewd intent to swallow you whole— soul and all. Heating you up further with his nails raking up to your bouncing tits, taking an immediate liking to how soft they feel in his perverted paw— so much so that he just has to pinch at your nipple to make you whine like a bitch in heat, leaving him in shock and awe over how much he loves those sounds you’re making in response. He’ll teach you to enjoy pain soon enough, but it’s just as much fun getting to see you wince in the mix of hurt and comfort, unsure how to react when he rolls the bud between his fingers, tugging on your overly sensitive skin for his own personal enjoyment. It’s nice, isn’t it? It hurts though, doesn’t it?

Surely you must be close now, he bets. Given that he had neglected to let you cum earlier, he’s about ready to bust again himself, meaning that he might finally allow you some release, too. The ball of arousal in your tummy must be wound up so tight by now, especially since you frantically fuck yourself fucking stupid on his cock, providing him a silly amount of stimulation— enough to let him know that you’re gone. Far too gone to think reasonably now, focused solely on simply feeling good; which means that he has you exactly where he wants you.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, though for selfish means only. He wants to keep feeling good too, it’s all he exists for, really. “Fuck, dont’cha want a little fuck trophy in your tummy, huh?”

A baby, of course, would not exist without his explicit intent. And he doesn’t intend on impregnating you— yet. But the addition of his hand that was holding your weight now moving to your tummy, rubbing the area above your womb so delicately in stark contrast to his otherwise rough treatment, seems to get you going with newfound vigour. Sat square on his cock, buried as deep as he can go in the hopes of his seed taking root, right? And it’s fucking hot to him, thinking about breeding you. Turning you into his little breeding bitch, fucking slut, you’d make the perfect little forever play thing, y’know?

And it seems you agree, pushing his hand harsher over your womb, heat spreads from his fingertips to privately mark you as his own. An instinct at best, a deep seated wish at worst. He opts not to think about it too much in the moment, far too focused on the way you grind your puffy cunt against his pelvis, as if attempting to find more cock to fuck into your greedy hole. Trying to match him?

Insatiable slut, he fucking loves it.

Despite everything that’s happened so far, form the way you must have spent so long summoning him— it’s not easy, he made it so. To how simple you were for him to seduce, a little cock sucking and you were like melted putty in the palm of his hands, or rather, on the end of his cock. All the way up to how well you ride him, like the flawless slut you’ve always been deep down inside, right? Humping his fat cock to your hearts content, hungry with your pretty bounces up and down, seeking his seed. In spite of it all, perhaps the final nail in the coffin of your devious deal is the way you desperately grab at his horns mid hump for more stability. That, in actuality, is what seals your deal for him. Renders him useless under you, a huffed growl crawling up his chest to scold your obscene action, whether you realise it or not; he’s sensitive there, especially when you tug on em so tightly, pretty pussy choking his cock almost as snugly, too.

It’s such a rash decision, how his hips start snapping up into you again, removing the option of choice from you with his sheer strength alone dictating the pace. Too fast for you to keep up with, turning you into a sobbing little fuck with the wet slap of his balls against you. Plump and so full for you, God, so fucking full again— he doesn’t think he’ll tire of you quickly. Which is a shame for you, honestly. He’s going to fuck you senseless, within an inch of your life, beyond that which he normally attains with his victims.

“Stupid bitch—” he grabs at the fat of your thighs, swiftly tipping you over mid air so that he’s on top of you, fucking away at your squelchy little hole with fast fucks and heaved breaths. Taking the opportunity of your dumb confusion to slip his pointed tail between your legs to rub away at yout slippery little clit, begging with every choked moan and groan to have you cumming already; he can’t last too much longer now. Not with your tiny human hands still yet on his horns, tugging him closer, pulling on his weak spots so carelessly— it’s about time he returns the favour in kind, no? Flicking his tail with practiced precision against your overly sensitive clit, overstimulating you into attempting to crawl away from him, pushing him off as much as you can— but it’s no fucking use. This is exactly what you signed up for, slut. His hips don’t slow down despite your protests, not even when you start to cry from the intense waves of pleasure that soon rock through you, creaming his cock so well, all sticky and messy and loud for him as he keeps his attention on your clit, circling her so good, but it’s too much for you to handle, isn’t it? His voice comes out in broken laughter, caught off by a genuine whimper of appreciation for how tight your hole gets mid orgasm.

“My whore.”

And the fact that your mind is so numbed from cumming so good—best orgasm of your life he bets—as well as the additional help from his naturally secreting aphrodisiac, broken beyond repair from the way his cock fucks right up to your cervix over and over again, ignoring the fact that you’re shaking in his bruising hold of your body, focused solely on making you feel how upset he is with your display tonight, how he intends to make you his— it culminates in perhaps the best orgasm of his life too. Chest tightening, tail straightening, eyes rolling with his head thrown back, nails digging into the fat of your tummy; fat ropes of seed are sure to follow. Heavy and milky, sticking to your insides with insidious intent, filling you so full of his demon stink that not a single soul alive or dead would even think about approaching you, let alone touching you.

But he’s not done there. He allows you the absolute pleasure of having him milk his fat cock inside of you, until you’re so full of cum that it dribbles out around his girth and drops down to the ruffled sheets below. It’s fine, you won’t be washing them any time soon. And besides, it’s fucking hot getting to watch you squirm on the puddle of white as he unceremoniously drops you back down onto the bed, your chest heaving for air as you smack down to the centre of the bed, bright blushing cheeks shooting arrows into his dead heart.

If it was fate that he was to meet you tonight, then surely fate has decided to damn you too, right? Left you pliant and unaware, submissively offering yourself up to him with your legs spreading on instinct as he gently lowers himself too to match your level. Fate has always been so cruel, hasn’t she? Ever unkind, unfair in the way he instantly pounces back upon you, pinning your wrists above your head as his cock bobs to your pleas for… Well, he can’t quite decipher exactly what you’re begging for. Only that the fat tears that roll down your cheeks turn him on more than anything before, and he needs to fuck some more of em outta ya.

He bets your cunt is all sore from his abuse by now too, huh? Red and puffy, he strokes a finger up and down once before dipping into your sopping wet hole, knuckle deep from how thoroughly he’s fucked you wide open, split you in two on his cock— “Promise,” he almost whines for you, but you thankfully aren’t aware enough to pick up on his desperation. “Promise t’make y’feel good for the rest of your sad little life.” He smiles through his words, face scrunched up in shock and awe at the way you look so pretty when getting ruined from the inside out.

Finger fucking you at the same pace as his thrusts, he’s being all too mean to you, he knows. But you can’t blame him for chasing that high of your cries, fuck, he could probably cum on the spot just from watching you helplessly endure his assault, sniffling and huffing sobs as he buries his finger knuckle deep before introducing another. Curling them at the tail end of his fucks, a dirty chuckle slipping past his lips.

“All mine now,” and he’s being truthful. You traded your soul for this, yeah? A life of solitude and cock, left hungry for his scornful touch, body forever left begging for his abuse. “All fuckin’ mine,” he promises you, for there’s no escaping his strength now that he’s had a taste of your soft body. “If only y’weren’t so fucking cute, if only y’didn’t take abuse so well—”

He hadn’t intended on making you cum three times tonight, content enough simple to play with his newfound toy until he grew bored of your whimpers for more. But he’s nonetheless satisfied when your body struggles to cum again, cute cunt convulsing around the rough pads of his fingers as he helps you ride out another good feeling. Barking laughter down at you when you have trouble catching your breath— have you even been listening to him for the past while? Do you understand what the fuck you’ve done?

Other than destroy any chance of him being content with any other hole in future. Good fucking slut.

He regrets meeting you already.

[readychilledwine]

Hi Liz! I have been following you for a while now and I absolutely adore everything you write. You are incredibly talented and deserve all praise for it ❤️

I have never actually requested a story from any author simply because I will devour almost any content by fanfic authors and truthfully it makes me feel a little greedy and I never want anyone to feel forced to write anything. However, I have had this idea since I read one of your stories and I feel like no one else would be able to do it justice like you would.

Essentially, the reader is the youngest Archeron sister and is mated to Azriel (mating bond has been accepted and they have been together for a couple of months now) but she is inexperienced (her first time was with Azriel) and Nesta has been giving her some of her hard core smutty books and now the reader wants to explore some kinks with Azriel (somnophilia, cock warming, wing play, bondage) but she’s embarrassed to bring up the conversation with him. Anyway, she eventually has that conversation with Azriel (he’s all too happy about it because no one can tell me this male doesn’t have a corruption kink) and smut ensues.

First of all, thank you for the endless compliments 💜💜 I'm so excited you're here and have welcomed me into your world for entertainment purposes.

Second of all, I could NEVER deny an Azriel corruption kink fic.

Breathe

Summary - A year of sexual exploration hasn't even began to touch the things Azriel would like to do to you.

Warnings - throat fucking, breath play, references to knife play, auralism, jealous Rhys and cassian at the end, mentions of other explored kinks and sexual senerios

Azriel pushed his fingers further unto your throat, his shadows forcing your hair back as he held your book in his free hand.

“I've been wondering why you've been sending me wave after wave of arousal all day,” he rose a brow a passage involving the male character using a knife to pleasure the female main. “Is this what my pretty little mate reads when I'm away? Her big sister's smut novels?”

He watched as you gagged, drool and spit coming to the corner of your mouth as you struggled to breathe and looked up at him doe eyed. “Want me to fuck you with Truth Teller, mate? Does the thought of coming on a deadly weapon soak your little lace panties?” He chuckled darkly. Mocking your inability to answer. 

“You're trained better than this, slut. You know to answer me when I ask you a question.” You whined around his fingers. You  could feel the tension in his body, feel his need for stress relief. 

The two of you had just began exploring physically together. The bond finally snapped after your 20th birthday. After the Mortal queen and the deathless God had been dealt with. After Elain finally let her claws out of him long enough for him to notice you. To feel you.

He had not pushed sex, knowing from Nesta you were the only one of the 4 of you to hold onto that seemingly special thing so tightly. It had taken a year for you to spread those pretty thighs and let him take you, but after that, you fucked like rabbits. Trying every dirty thing and kink your mind wanted to explore.

Azriel had allowed you to dominate him, whining as you rode his cock and denied him orgasm after orgasm, fingers dancing his scarred wings.

He had tied you from the ceiling his dungeon, harnessed up like a swing and fucked you to sweet oblivion.

He had taken every tight hole, came anywhere he could. Marked you in his scent and musk more times than you two could count.

But you were still his sweet innocent girl. 

His little untouched angel exploring your sexuality and urges like an animal in heat sometimes. Your recent needs were punishment. You liked him hurting you, dominating you, watching as you cried. You liked breath play lately, hence his fingers sinking deeper as you struggled, black beginning to form in your eyes until he took those fingers out and slapped you.

“Need you to suck my cock, princess,” he began unlacing his leathers, mind lost in the pleasure your mouth would bring him. “Open. Now.”

You obeyed, throat relaxing and mouth opening as his cock sprung free. Hard leaking and angry from weeks away from you. He pushed in without hesitation, setting a gentle pace as he tightened his grip in your hair.

“She couldn't breathe,” his deep voice began reading from the book, making you whine around his cock as he pushed it down your throat ensuring you couldn't either. “The feeling of the cold hilt in her warm walls causing her to feel wave after wave of shock and pleasure.”

He looked down at you, smirking at the sight of your flushed cheeks, at you swallowing around him as spit pooled the corners of your mouth. His eyes went back to the book. “There was something about the danger, the thrill of this deadly weapon being used to push her to the edge that had her crying out, begging and pleading for more and more as she met every thrust with her hips. Fucking herself harder and harder on her mate's weapon.”

You were aching, dripping for him, and tapped his thigh for a quick breath, watching as he pulled out and looked down at you unimpressed. You panted a few gulps of air before taking him back in your mouth and bobbing your head, hallowing your cheeks and licking each vein on his shift. 

Azriel groaned loudly above you, setting the book down before his now free hand joined the other one tangled in your now messy hair. He began fucking your throat harshly. Barely allowing you moments of air as he chased his much needed high. 

You could do nothing but hold on for life when he did this. When he lost control for you. He pushed all the way in, gagging you again and held you there, nose pressed against his skin. “Breathe,” he commanded in a moan. “Being such a good girl, y/n.” 

Throat fucking as new to you. An unexplored territory you hadn't even considered until he had asked gently. You knew it was more for him than for you, but right now you felt this sense of power as he moaned above you, wings shuttering as his body shivered. 

That power reached a deep set need in your bones, allowing you to relax and enjoy this more with a small moan. “There we go, angel,” he whispered. “Just like that for me. I'm so proud of you.” He began thrusting again, allowing you to hear his pleasure, allowing you to feel that power you had over him. “Keep breathing, baby,” his voice was almost a whimper. “Just keep breathing, I'm right there, y/n. Please honey.”

Him begging had you moaning against him, relaxing your throat further as your watched his breathing pick up, his plump lips part, his eyes scrunch. 

Without warning he pushed all the way in, spilling down your throat, as a roar tore through his own. He pulled back slightly, releasing the last of his cum onto your stuck out tongue with a satisfied smile. 

He kneeled down to you, shadows bringing him a notebook and pen and he wiped the small bits that hit your face off with his thumb before forcing you to suck that digit. 

He flipped through the notebook, a page dedicated to each sexual act and kink you two had explored with a rating and comments from both of you before landing on the page he needed and the adjoining blank one. 

“1 through 5?” He asked you gently, removing his thumb and kissing your forehead. 

“3.5,” you admitted with guilt. “I only enjoyed it because you do, and it made me feel slightly in control.”

He nodded, writing your response as you two both moved to sit cross-legged from each other on the floor. “Do not feel guilty. I am just happy it ranked high enough to be in the rotation. How about the reading to you thing?”

“4 out of 5. I enjoyed it a lot when you were doing that.” Azriel jotted it down.

“And what the fuck is going on in this novel? Do you want to try knife play?”

“Only with you,” you answered. 

Azriel leaned forward, kissing you gently. “It's one of my favorites. I've done it with a couple play partners. I can answer any questions you have.”

The two of you sat there, filling in a few more pages of the book you had started to keep during the beginning of your exploration a year ago, smiling at the things you've already done, going on your list of retries. 

Love was free flowing down the bond, soaking the room and fabric in it's scent, filling the Riverhouse with its presence with every passing moment. 

Rhys and Cassian sighed from downstairs, tapping their feet on the wooden floors as they waited for Azriel to come give them his mission report. 

“This happens every fucking time,” Cassian sat down on the couch. “Is it us? Is fatherhood killing our sex drive?”

Rhys shrugged. “I don't know what's killing your sex drive, brother. Mine is fine. Hince 3 little ones. If you could figure out what's keeping theirs so... passionate, though, I'd appreciate it.” 

[randomness-is-my-order]

another thing that always struck me about jiang cheng and wei wuxian’s relationship is how little jc actually seems to understand wwx and where he was coming from and this is not just an empathy problem (though that is entirely present, too) but also the lack of effort to truly open up to wei wuxian’s pov and seek it from the source himself.

this is possibly the randomest example i can give but during their chat in the burial mounds, jc comments on the situation with the food and whether crops would even grow in the burial mounds and whether people could even live there and it’s just...even if he’s not sure about wwx spending months in the burial mounds, he KNOWS wwx lived in the streets in his early childhood and nothing gives people the mentality of “survival before all else” than that but jc had either never bothered to learn about wwx’s past before he came to lotus pier in all the years he’d known him or he did know and never bothered to contexualise things so he didn’t have to wonder whether a comfortable lifestyle was truly a valid concern for wwx. here’s the passage if anyone wants to read the exact phrasing:

Jiang Cheng was incredulous. “You’re planting things on a mountain made of corpses? Will anything that grows even be edible?” “Trust me. Anything is edible when you’re hungry enough.” “Do you really plan on settling here for the long-term?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Can people even live in a hellish place like this?” “I lived here for three months before,” Wei Wuxian stated.

now, ik jc’s headspace at the time was focussed on detracting wwx’s resolve to live in the burial mounds but my point is moreso that jc actually did not comprehend who wwx was as a person in the books, ever. he literally never came close. and this isn’t even about the missing information like the golden core transplant or the true circumstances of wwx’s three months disappearance. it’s jiang cheng thinking wwx always wanted to show off, linking his actions to a hero complex, thinking wwx was needlessly arrogant, not understanding why wwx would stick his neck out for the wens. it’s the way jiang cheng rarely, if ever, gave wei wuxian any grace in his reading of his actions–always looking at wei wuxian through a lens that was inherently unfavourable and thereby, never allowed him to truly view wwx for who he is.

in contrast, wei wuxian always understood jiang cheng in a way i don’t think jc knew he did. the way he knew where jc’s cutting words originated from, the way he could read jc’s insecurities, the way he could empathise with his grief and anger, even after everything went to absolute hell between the two. i’m not claiming wei wuxian understood jiang cheng like no other or had some uniquely profound insight into his mindset but there is enough content in the books that makes it clear that wei wuxian saw jiang cheng for the person that he was and gave him more grace (than he deserved, imo) and that this understanding was not at all present in jiang cheng’s perspective of wei wuxian.

which brings me to another observation: jiang cheng may or may not have loved wei wuxian but he sure as hell never respected him. because when you respect someone (and i’d argue there is no real love without respect), you try to get to know the person, try to see their side of things, try to assemble your opinion of them after informing yourself about their life. jiang cheng, for me, never exhibited the interest to go even slightly out of his way and gain a better understanding of wwx. wei wuxian wasn’t someone he wanted to spend that kind of time on – be it because jc had internalised the social hierarchy separating them, had never liked wwx for being better than him in various fields or because he was simply not the kind of person who would be emotionally even a little generous in his relationships. it doesn’t matter.

the point for me is that this give-and-take was never balanced. it was always wei wuxian over-extending his internal resources while jc never realised or refused to. some say their relationship only became worse/toxic after the wen remnants were rescued but the seeds were there since their childhoods. their circumstances exacerbated the issue tenfold, yes, most definitely, but that issue was always present and would blow up their relationship sooner or later, as long as jiang cheng didn’t have substantial growth. jiang cheng continuing to live was worth the sacrifice for wei wuxian (be it from a source of affection, obligation, duty, anything) but staying by wei wuxian’s side after the shift to burial mounds was not worth the trouble for jiang cheng. and yes their personalities have alot to do with their individual decisions in these pressing matters but i’m sure that were it jiang yanli who had taken wei wuxian’s spot, jiang cheng’s actions would be far different but do the switch with jiang cheng, and wei wuxian would still make the same choice. because jiang cheng’s relationship with wei wuxian was undeniably unbalanced to begin with. he never did consider wwx his equal and so, never tried to put in the same effort that wwx did. it’s as simple as that.

[crowleysgirl56]

Ok, so I wanted to do a deeper dive into this particular passage of Good Omens:

For context, this is at the climax of the book, they’re at Tadfield airbase, the horsemen have been dispensed with, Aziraphale has his body back, and Satan is about to claw his way out of the pit.

In most of the proceeding chapters involving Crowley it talks a lot about how scared Crowley is. He is very scared of Hell.

One could perhaps say maybe he is scared of them due to The Arrangement, but that is never explicitly stated. I think it has more to do with Hell is bad, and Crowley has spent the majority of the book being yelled at by some entity through the radio or TV telling him how he’s going to be in super amounts of trouble when they get their hands on him. He is just scared of what will happen. When he comes across the book shop burning he doesn’t cry for his lost friend. He curses Aziraphale, and I think it’s because the one person who may have been able to keep him safe and protected from Hell is now gone.

So when he thinks to himself (as shown in the above screen shot) that there is now nothing left for him to lose, this is why I never thought (upon reading the book the first time that is) there were any romantic feelings between him and Aziraphale. I know that technically he had already lost Aziraphale. But by this point he was back again, and back in his body. If there truly were romantic thoughts between them surely the idea of losing him again would come up.

I have read so much fanfiction, some old, some new, and what they all have in common is the detailed inner monologue of Crowley’s turmoil over his feelings for Aziraphale and how he doesn’t feel like he can act on them. In the book we get nothing of the sort, from either character. Even when they’re separated there is hardly ever any description of them thinking of the other except occasionally to frame a short reference to something. Reading the book I never got the impression that there was anything more than two ethereal beings spending time and proximity to each other and doing work for each other for no other reason than they’re essentially a bit lazy.

I think they’re only queer coded for the fact that there’s the line about Aziraphale appearing “gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitric oxide”, and Crowley is, well, very Freddie Mercury coded. Them being seen as gay together and all the gay slurs in the awful racist scenes of Aziraphale body hopping about in culturally indigenous people after the bookshop fire has more to do with the very typical 80’s/90’s trope of “being gay = comedy gold”, than them actually being together romantically.

I think the reason why they were shipped so much after the publication however is for the same reason we ship so many male couples (or female couple) in modern media, why we’ve always shipped them: because of the complete and horrid lack there of, of proper queer representation.

If you’ve ever seen the magnificent Russel T Davies TV series It’s a Sin, there is a wonderful scene where the character Ash starts a job in a school library and the headmaster asks him to go through all the books and find any book that has queer love scenes so they can be removed. Ash then gives a most beautiful and impassioned speech (albeit it turns out the speech is just in his head) of how there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. There is nothing to the point where they are nonexistent. They are invisible. They are not seen. (Or like, something to that effect. I tell you though, it’s bloody brilliant).

So I think that’s rather the point really. You have two iconic characters, albeit supporting bit characters practically, and I think a lot of our minds automatically get drawn to wanting to put them together because of the sheer lack of queer couples. People have been doing it for years from Frodo and Sam, to Harry Potter and Draco (or Ron I guess), to Sherlock and Watson (even before the Benedict Cumberbatch show. Also as an aside let’s not get into how obsessed people got about Sherlock Holmes back in the day when those books were first published. The obsession was the reason Doyle killed the character off the in first place, then after getting letters from people telling him they were literally going to kill themselves, the reasons why he resurrected him again. Don’t tell us that modern day nerds are weird and obsessive. We’ve ALWAYS been like this).

It’s for this reason why queer representation is so god damn important. Why I still support the idea of Good Omens season 3. Because regardless of how the characters were originally intending to be represented in the book, it’s very clear now that they are so much more than “Just friends”. And we NEED that! Whether you subscribe to the idea that they will be physically intimate with each other, the fact remains is they love each other. They love each other immensely. And that comes from years of Terry Pratchett (and the other guy) accepting that canon and telling fans that it’s true. Because Michael Sheen made a choice and held a belief about how he saw his character and then David Tennant followed suit. That literally tens of thousands of fanfiction writers have decided the same.

So that’s my take. I don’t think loving each other was ever intended that way in the book, but in the last 35 years their story has morphed into the ineffable husbands that we now know.

What are your thoughts? Have I rambled on long enough to make any sense? Do you agree? Have I missed something completely obvious and gotten it all wrong? Keen to hear thoughts.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could I request Welt, Dan Heng, Sunday, Gepard, and Argenti finding their s/o's poetry collection of them?

Argenti:

Would sit himself down somewhere nearby and read every last poem, each one leaving him with a full heart, butterflies in his stomach and another addition to the list of reasons why he adored your creative soul.

He’s extremely honoured that you decided to chose him as your muse for your poems, for he could feel the love and respect you have for him through your writing, before holding the collections of poetry made in his name against his chest as he beamed with happiness.

He’d even openly praise you for your works if he were to see you later on in the day, which would make you understandably upset and embarrassed that he went through your things, but with the way that he passionately talked about your writing and the look upon his face that clearly shown his appreciation and admiration for poetry.

At the end you’re the one who ends up being flustered whilst Argenti was still sending appraisal after appraisal your way, all the while re-reading your works and proudly reciting his favourite passages without shame.

Sunday:

He thought it was sweet that you write poetry about him.

He didn’t feel as though he was invading your privacy at all, seeing as how he’d like to claim that whatever of yours was now also his by osmosis…totally not because he’s fishing for stuff to hold over you and maintain control should you act out…

Anyway- he’s taking his sweet time reading each and every poem you’ve written with him in mind and smiling at the hold he’s taken within your heart, finding it fascinating what adoration could make one do just to express their whole array of emotions.

It was almost as though they were on some timer that others couldn’t see just to express all their innermost feelings towards the special person in their life. Then again love tended to make people feel as though they were invincible, so the unthinkable and accomplish things that they never thought that they were capable of achieving in the first place.

So it didn’t matter whether or not you were able to wax poetry before him, but it was obvious to Sunday that the moment he had taken hold of your life and your every thought, poetry has became your primary outlet for feelings that you weren’t nearly brave enough to say aloud to him. Rest assured however for that day will come for you to open up about those unspoken feelings of yours…sooner or later.

Gepard:

He feels as though he was invading your privacy by reading your poetry collection and wanted to leave before he’d inevitably get caught, but just as he was about to take his leave, he stopped when the title of the first poem caught his eye;

Everlasting winter

He found himself reading through the first few opening sentences and immeditly made connections between himself and the person within your poem. To say it didn’t take long for Gepard to realises that the similarities between him and the person in your poem were purely intentional, and that he was the one the poem was actual about.

His face was blossoming red upon the realisation and averted his eyes elsewhere as he takes in the fact that you found him a perfect enough muse for your poetry. Him, the man who couldn’t hold a tune to save his life, grows flowers that unfortunately don’t last long, and wasn’t possessed with the basic skills of drawing.

And yet you found something about him that was worth writing poem after poem about. He didn’t know why that was but he was appreciative that you found something in him that urged you into written it down on paper, where your affection and admiration for him would be forever immortalised…He also may or may not have taken a poem to read to himself later on at night.

Dan heng:

He had noticed that you left a piece of paper laying about one day and was about to call out to you and give it back, while scolding you for leaving your messes everywhere for him to pick up after, only to see that it was in fact a poem about him.

Red faced, Dan Heng still planned on taking the poem back to you and journeyed to your room where he found that the door was left ajar, but could immeditly tell that your room was empty. Sighing, Dan Heng opened the door and quickly made his way towards your desk, where’d he found more poems in regards to him.

Much like Gepard, Dan Heng felt as though he was reading something he shouldn’t but he found himself unable to look away as he was secretly tempted to know how you viewed him. What he found was nothing short of you portraying him in a way that he’s never quite thought of himself before. If he wasn’t already so easily made flustered by your words alone, your writing was enough to put the poor man into a catatonic state.

Dan Heng wasn’t use to being smothered in a love like yours. Where you felt as though speaking your love for him wasn’t nearly enough, so you had to expand and start writing it instead in the form of poetry. He doesn’t feel as though he’s deserving of it but isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and is more then willing to try to accept the fact that you care deeply for him; especially when he can not find it within him to find anything about him remotely worth being with.

Welt:

He’s made copious amounts of drawings of you that he’s kept hidden in his room. So upon coming across your poetry collection about him, it only made him feel more comfortable knowing that he wasn’t the only one to express his innermost feelings through an art form.

Besides it wasn’t like he was actively searching your room for your poetry collection, he really wasn’t as he just came across them out of pure coincidence. He was currently about four poetries deep and was finding it extremely endearing how you viewed him in most of your writing: which was mainly as an well educated, wise man with a young man’s heart and restlessness sense for adventure, who had a talent for drawing.

Welt would chuckle under his breath at all the moments you’ve shared together, before you’d then went on to write about how beautiful he was in every possible way. From his sweet, insightful eyes that seemingly held all the knowledge you could ever ask for, to his calming, velvety voice that could lull you into a deep sleep within seconds.

You posed him as this figure of comfort, a figure of warmth and Welt soon finding himself not so subtly sneaking some of your poetry into his pocket to read for later. Your poetry only gives Welt the confidence he been looking for, as he would then starts to leave his drawings of you in places where you’d be able to see them; all in hopes that you would know that you had just as much of a huge place in his heart as he did in yours.

[revelboo]

revel i really love how everything you wrote is connected to eachother in some way its actually so satisfying to read from the very first post and read from there! feels like seeing the bigger picture!

I try to connect the IDW fics or TFP fics to each other when possible, because it makes it more fun for me. This one is a bit earlier than intended, but the reblog tags for the last Jazz bit were killing me 😭

Over It Now Pt 9

IDW Jazz x Reader

• Tracking your passage through the house, his optics follow as lights come on, go out until you reach your bedroom and then the house is dark and silent, leaving him with his thoughts. With his oldest and truest companion, self loathing. Your anger spreading like poison through him as he walks to sit under that ancient pin oak in your yard near your window, head tipped back to look at the hints of stars through the leaves and trying to remember before the war. Back when his smile hadn’t been just a convenient mask to hide behind, he’d been a musician. A singer. He’d been happy then, but it’s been a long time since he was that bot. Sometimes it feels like the memory of a ghost, a life that couldn’t possibly be his. Optics shuttering behind his visor, he tries to picture the street, busy with Cybertronians going about their day. The weight of an instrument in his hands, servos dancing over chords.

• Furious with Jazz and yourself, you lay there in the dark and stare at the ceiling. Wondering why you let him get under your skin when you know the likely outcome. If everything is a game to him, then getting close or allowing him close is only going to hurt you in the end. You know that. So why does that crooked little smile keep slipping into your head? You’re angriest because of how you’d felt when he’d held you like that, safe, precious, like you mattered and it hadn’t been real. Because you’re dumb enough to play right into his little game. At first, the sound is so low you almost miss it. Something aside from the hum of the ceiling fan. Singing, the sound so achingly lonely even as the words mean nothing to you. Sliding out of bed, you limp to the window and peek out through the blinds, spotting the glow of Jazz’s visor beneath the tree, his biolights faintly limning his frame. He’s making that bittersweet sound and even if you don’t understand the language, it’s so full of yearning that it hurts.

• It’s not the sort of songs he’d sang on the streets of Iacon or Praxus, something new. Pouring all the poison in him out into the quiet night, all the things he can’t say out loud. The hurt, the loneliness, and the need for someone to see him, to see past the shiny, smiling veneer and realize that no, he’s not okay. Hasn’t been for a long time. The song sinks its claws into him, a stream of longing and grief, every word a new chain pulling him down with their weight. Because no one really sees him. They never have. Their needs forging him into this so he can do what needs to be done. No matter the cost. A good little spy smiling instead of screaming. The touch of a little hand on his ped breaks him from the song, voice faltering. And you’re right there, head down. Crying as you lean on your crutches, crying for him because he can’t and no one else will.

• You can’t stop crying, because that song is a living thing twisting inside you, all sweetness and barbed wire. This is something real, not a lie and it hurts more than a song should. Then he’s leaning forward, a servo tipping your chin up and then sliding over your cheek. “Sorry, doll. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says voice low, big hand outstretched like he wants to pick you up, pull you into him again. But hesitating. And you grab onto his servos, letting your crutches fall as he catches you, lifts you to cradle against him, big hands tucking your little frame against the warm mesh of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to do this anymore.” Pressing your face against him, you’re not sure what he means by that. Maybe not lying. Maybe being real. But maybe you can help him figure it out.

Previous

Next

[suhkusa]

You get there on the 9 minute 58 second mark. You only know that because you see Suna’s phone screen with a stopwatch displayed.

“Wow, were you really going to leave?” you say as you pull out the chair in front of him.

His face reads obviously, “You should be grateful I even waited, what took you so long anyways?” he’s prying open his laptop, you following behind.

The tapping sound of the keys can be heard as you reply, “I looked too dead when I woke up so I put makeup on,”

There’s a snicker that slips from his mouth, “Really? No wonder you look ugly,”

You take in a sharp breath when he says that, and for a second you even question why you’re reacting the way you are.

You shouldn’t care. 

But for some odd reason you do. For some odd reason you find yourself eyeing your reflection on your laptop’s screen and observing your face. 

Damn, you know you were rushing but was it that bad?

Realizing you’ve been silent for a second too long, you just laugh. “Ouch,” you ignore the way it sounds pitiful instead of sarcastic when it comes out of your mouth.

And before you get too in your head about your appearance or his words, you just fill your brain with passage after passage. 

You can hear him talking in the background, but all you do is hum in agreement. Scared if you open your mouth, you’ll find yourself even more vulnerable than you are right now.

“Hello? I asked for an opinion, not for a yes or no,” his voice causes you to jump a bit.

“Oh shit, sorry,” you straighten up a bit, “what was your question?”

Suna’s eyes squint a bit as he observes your face. You try to blink back any gloss that has been produced in your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” you think for a second he isn’t talking to you, because who are you kidding, he would never care about your wellbeing.

You must’ve been quiet for too long, though. Because he had already figured you out based on the look on your face.

“Do you really care what I think?” Suna rests his chin lazily on his hand as he asks you.

And for once you don’t have a stupid retort or argument to throw his way. Because weirdly enough, you do care.

You just shake your head no, before focusing on your faltering writing.

He sighs before his hand comes down onto the table. “I didn’t mean— nevermind. You just look… fine without it, so can we get back to work?”

Instead of taking the compliment— or whatever you’d call that— you just let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, whatever,”

The two of you then fall into that familiar rhythm of bickering back and forth about your assignment. 

Each of you just missing the way one would sneak glances at the other’s face.

BLAH BLAH BLAH — PARTY POOPER

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

**** *** = feel bad

suna wasn't actually going to leave he just likes to be a dick

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter I - In Between These Lines

Summary: Aemond had been avoiding you all day, and you were determined to get some answers, and maybe comfort him when he needed you to.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello hello! It's the day of the (official) release of the season 2 finale of HotD and I thought it was the perfect time to publish this. I have been meaning to write for this fandom for quite some time now, and this one had been on my mind for quite some time now and I decided to write it down and see where it went, and I’m quite proud of how it turned out.

Just to clear some things up: reader is Rhaenyra’s eldest child (yes, I went for that trope), being one or two years younger than Aemond and one or two years older than Jace (so she and Aemond are more or less the same age). This first chapter is set on the same day of the Pink Dread incident (season 1, episode 6), which means they are children. (Also, I don't understand anything of palm reading, but that's kinda the whole point)

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

He had been ignoring you all day. The only time you even managed to catch a glimpse of him was on the courtyard during his training lessons with Ser Criston, accompanied by both your brothers and his own. It was pretty boring, really, watching from afar as it would be considered ‘improper’ for you to join them, even though both your father and Ser Harwin had taken upon themselves to teach you the ways of the steel in secret (even though you had a strong suspicion your mother was well aware of it). At least you got some free entertainment for the day, watching Ser Harwin beat the absolute shit out of Cole.

Serves him right for being cunt to my brothers, you had thought.

You’d normally prefer to spend your afternoons with Helaena, truly enjoying the girl’s company, her fascination with bugs and beetles and her clever mind never failing to make you smile. However, you’d later have to apologize to your aunt for skipping on your daily meeting as you ventured around the keep in search of her brother. You were supposed to meet at the weirwood tree after he got back from going to the pit with the boys so you could work on your high valyrian lessons together, but as the minutes passed you began to worry and set out to find him. 

You thoroughly believed he wasn’t even going to show up at supper, his mother smiling softly albeit crookedly upon your questioning, claiming he was feeling indisposed, but to your surprise he did come in if only a little late. He wasn’t acting like himself, however, choosing to sit in the seat furthest away from you, where he would normally sit right by your side, leaving the seat vacant for Aegon to sit next to you, his abhorrent manners at the table almost making you physically recoil. He didn’t look at anyone, nor did he speak to anyone unless spoken to and he seemed way more interested in poking around his food than actually eating it. And once the meal was over and everyone was excused he practically vanished, rushing out of the hall before you could even rise to your feet.

Now, as night had fallen, you were determined to find him and get some answers. Goosebumps formed on your skin as you ventured deeper in the hidden passages of the Keep where your sword lessons were held, the chilly air of King’s Landing biting at your exposed arms. You walked with confidence, knowing for a fact both your chambers were connected through these halls. You just hoped to the Old Gods and the New that you did in fact know where you were going and that you didn’t accidentally walk in on Aegon doing something very morally questionable with one of the servants.

Please let it be this one, you prayed as your fingers pressed against a loose panel on the wall.

And it seemed you had to look no further. Aemond was half submerged in a bath arranged in the middle of the room (confirming these were, indeed, his chambers), the ends of his hair sticking to his skin as water clung to the strands. Upon hearing the wall moving he startled, his eyes widening as he desperately scrambled to try and cover some of his modesty, even though you could barely see anything below the waterline.

“B-by the Gods!” he squirmed, clearly not expecting visitors at this hour, and you felt an amused smirk building on your lips at his attempts at covering up.

“Worry not, uncle.” you jested walking closer to the tub after closing the secret door behind you “You seem to forget I have three younger brothers. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

His cheeks tinged with a bright shade of pink.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?!” he tried once again to cover up, trying to look anywhere but at you standing in the middle of his chambers in only your nightclothes.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, the smirk promptly slipping from your face.

He seemed momentarily taken aback by such a question, looking away almost… ashamed?

“I have done no such thing, I have just been busy?” he tried, though his words lacked any conviction and ended up sounding more like a question.

“You promised to meet me after going to the Dragonpit.” you spoke softly “But you never came.”

At this he didn’t have a rebuttal, not one that wouldn’t give too much away, so he simply shrugged, his gaze cast down into the water. But you could tell from the way he shrunk under your gaze that there was something more to it.

“Did something happen in the Dragonpit?” you asked, taking a couple of slow and careful steps closer to him. When he stayed silent, only scrunching his eyes as if it physically pained him to think about it, you tried again “Aemond… what happened at the Dragonpit?”

“Nothing happened!” he snapped, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, before his voice acquired a venomous tone “Now if you could excuse me, little niece, I find myself quite occupied at the moment and don’t have the time to entertain you right now. Go meddle on somebody else’s business.”

Had you been anybody else you’d have left by now, with your tail between your legs and tears dripping down your face over the lashing of his tongue. And although his words did sting and left you feeling slightly humiliated, you stood your ground. You’d like to think that after all these years, having grown up together in the Red Keep, you’d come to know your uncle, your friend, better than anyone by now. You knew he, very much like yourself, was more reserved in his feelings, keeping them to himself, but once they finally bubbled over they tended to burn everything in their path. Aemond, like you, was the blood of the dragon after all. And you had come to learn that when he was hurting he tended to lash out at anyone and everyone around him, intending to inflict the same hurt onto others so he wasn’t left alone in his misery.

So, taking a steadying breath, you closed the distance between the two of you, carefully climbing inside the tub with him. The water was lukewarm, and given the propensities of the members of the Targaryen family to enjoy their baths scalding hot, it told you that he’d probably been here for quite a while now, sulking alone.

As you lowered yourself into the water, he pressed himself further into the side of the wooden tub, trying to stay as further away from you as possible. 

“T-this is hardly appropriate, niece.” he stammered, trying not to let his eyes curiously wander down to your now soaked nightgown.

You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the situation you found yourself in, but you’d gone too far now to back down without the answers you seek.

“So, are you going to tell me what the matter is?”

He didn’t answer, but even though he refused to look directly at you, you spotted a lone tear escaping down his cheek.

“Aemond-”

“They gave me a pig.” he whispered, his gaze once again cast down.

“What?”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes finally meeting yours, and you could see the weight of the anger and the shame he’d been caring throughout the entire day.

“After Jacaerys finished his training with Vermax, he, Aegon and Lucerys mentioned they had found a dragon for me.” his voice wavered slightly as he recounted the event “I should not have believed them, I was such a fool… they brought a pig, decorated with wings and all.” more tears escaped his eyes, your heart clenching in your chest at the sight “‘The Pink Dread’ they called it.”

“Oh, Aemond-”

“I don’t want your pity, niece!” he lashed out once again, and you had to remind yourself it wasn’t personal “If that is all you came here for you can see yourself out.”

You pursed your lips, a frown etched on your face. You knew how much it pained him to remain dragonless. He had shared his thoughts with you once in the library after your lessons in high valyrian, way past the time you should have retired to your respective chambers. How he thought himself a disgrace to the Targaryen name, ashamed at not having a dragon for himself when even your younger brother Luke already had Arrax. You tried to console him but he was having none of it, too caught up in his self-loathing to listen. So you knew nothing you said could comfort him how he deserved.

An idea struck you. It was a stupid one, and you didn’t even know if it would work, but you had to try even if it backfired spectacularly. So you scooted closer to him in the tub, fitting between his spread legs without touching him, and extended your palm out.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes wide and confused.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand.” you coaxed, making come-hither with your extended fingers.

Once he realized you weren’t going to give him any further explanation, he did as he was told, laying his hand over your own, his palm facing down, which you quickly turned around. You started tracing the lines on his palm gently with your other hand, so concentrated you barely noticed the goosebumps forming on his skin from your ministrations.

“What-?” he started but you were quick to cut him off with a gentle ‘shhh’, which promptly shut him up, only slightly offended.

“See here?” you pointed at one of the lines in his palm, tracing it with your finger “It is your line of life. See how long it is? It means you shall live a long and fulfilling life.”

He glanced at you, still not understanding a word you were saying, and you gave him a soft, encouraging smile. 

“And see this one?” you pointed to another line “This is your line of heart. It turns upwards, which means you will be wed to a nice lady one day, and that you will love eachother very deeply and rejoice in your happiness together.”

You don’t know why saying that made your heart ache only slightly, but the sight of a smile slowly but surely curling on his lips made it all worth it, as it meant your plan was working. 

“And here,” you curled your fingers, closing his hand inside your own, and pointing to the lines that formed on the outer side “two deep lines and one shallow, meaning you’ll have three children when you grow older, two daughters and a son. And from how deep these two lines are, the girls will be very beautiful, they will probably give you a headache from how many suitors they will have.”

To this he chuckled, his tears long forgotten, and you giggled along with him.

“And here…” you opened his hand once again, and pointed to a long vertical line that crossed almost the entirety of his palm “is your line of the dragon. Only those of Targaryen descent have this one on their palms, see?” you pointed to your own hand which showed a similar line, different only in length “It means you will have a dragon one day.”

At this his face fell and he tried to rip his hand from you, but you held onto it firmly.

“The lines don’t lie.” you rushed to explain, now focused on his eyes as they softened at your words “You can check for yourself. Your brother and sister both have it on their hands, my own brothers have it. Seven Hells, you can even check Princess Rhaenys hands, she has one as well.”

You searched his eyes for any trace of doubt and found none.

“You will have a dragon one day, Aemond.” you squeezed his hand to emphasize our point “I’m sure of it.”

His smile grew on his face, sheepish but sincere, only a flick of his lips away from becoming a smirk.

“You just came up with all that, didn’t you?” he asked, and you gasped in mock offense, pushing against his shoulder.

“You wound me, uncle!” you pressed your hand against your heart “Why would I do such a thing?”

A beat passed before both of you burst out laughing, not one bit concerned the guards stationed just outside his door could probably hear you. You were glad you could make him smile again and give him some comfort, knowing you had succeeded on your mission.

As you both calmed down you looked at him once again, truly looked at him. He was quite beautiful when he smiled, and oh, how you wished he would do it more often around you. In that moment only the two of you existed, together. When asked later you wouldn’t be able to tell what came over you in that very moment, but once you realized what you were doing you had surged forward, pressing your lips against his in the gentlest, softest of kisses.

No sooner had your lips come in contact with his own, you were pulling back, eyes widening in panic. His own were blown wide as well, surprised by your actions. You didn’t waste a second climbing out of the tub, almost toppling over the side in your rush, your drenched nightclothes making your task all the more difficult.

“Wait!” he tried to hold onto you but you were quicker “Please, don’t go, I-!”

But you were already making your way to the hidden passage on the wall and disappearing from his chambers. He would have thought he had fallen asleep in the bath and dreamed the whole thing had it not been for the dark trail left behind going from the tub all the way to the wall from where water had dripped from your body in your haste to get away. 

And if, come the next morrow, he forcefully grabbed his mother’s hand and flip it to look at her palms, much to her protests, and notice a line present on the exact place where you had pointed the so called ‘line of the dragon’ the night before, his smile gave away the gratitude he felt for you at that moment.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Anna was afraid to face her new friends after the night out at the bar. Admitting she was attracted to Bob was easier to do than explain why she couldn't have him. When she finally sends him some book recommendations, she finds his taste in books familiar in an all too intimate way. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Anna spent the rest of her weekend working on lesson plans and looking at Bob's number saved in her phone. She had compiled a mental list of titles she thought he would like, and she'd even pulled a few dog-eared books from her own collection and stacked them up on her narrow counter. She would absolutely love to have Bob borrow them from her, but she'd completely messed everything up.

Why, when confronted with a decent man, did she shut everything down and destroy all hope? Because of Kevin. That's why. She knew this crush on Bob was a bad idea. Nothing good could come of it, but she still caught herself looking at his contact information on Sunday evening with longing in her heart.

She made herself a sad sandwich for dinner and packed herself a second sad sandwich for lunch the next day and then she settled in with her computer. The idea of taking her sad sandwich to the quad and eating with her friends was making her anxious. What if they didn't even want her around now that she'd made a complete fool of herself in front of their friend? What if they looked up at her as she approached them sitting on the bench with their perfect, beautiful lunches and scowled with their perfect, beautiful faces? 

"Oh no," she groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. She really liked them, but they probably hated her now. And she really liked Bob, but he probably went home with that better looking woman who was at the Navy bar and hadn't thought about Anna one time since. 

She forced her attention to her computer screen which was prompting her for a password. She entered Kev1n1s@t00L and watched as the website she'd had open on her browser came to life. She sighed as she scrolled through her saved favorites on PoetsAmongUs. It was kind of pitiful that she knew what she was going to end up reading before she could actually admit it to herself. 

Your whispers call out in the darkest shadows, My heart answers like a flame, Igniting this shared space with every breath I take, Giving you a love that will never find the end. It binds me to you, pulsing through my veins, Emotions like I've never known before. I've doubted that I could reach this place, But I feel endlessly sure here now.

Anna whined from her bed in her sad little apartment as she looked at the pen name of her favorite poet before clicking on it. He either never finished filling out his profile or he was being purposely vague. Male, 30s, United States. 

"Sky Writing. The only man I would trust with my heart ever again." She read the poem once more. That was her favorite passage, but she knew everything he posted by heart and got excited every time something new from him popped up every few months. 

It was late enough that she could probably just go to sleep without acknowledging that she hadn't texted Bob and probably never would. She couldn't set foot back in that bar ever again. Maybe that other place that Jessica loved so much would be somewhere she could check out next time she had nothing better to do. Chippy's or something? She started to doze off.

When her alarm started blaring, it was almost like she had slept too well. She'd dreamed about a faceless man with beautiful hands reading poetry to her while he ran his fingers slowly up and down her bare thigh. She couldn't shake the delicious feeling even as her alarm got louder. When she managed to turn it off, she lay there wishing she had time to go on the poetry website and masturbate before work. 

"Stop it," she whispered as she got up and started getting herself ready for the day. 

At least she got to teach English 522 this afternoon. Feminist Literature was becoming one of her favorite classes, as evidenced by her well worn copy of Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu which was in her bag. When she stood in her kitchen and ate a peanut butter granola bar and drank some coffee, she looked at the books she had pulled out as options for Bob, but she shook her head and left for the day without dwelling on how disappointing her life truly was.

Relying solely on public transportation meant leaving a lot earlier than you wanted to, but Anna still barely made it to her office in time to grab her notebook and teach her first lecture of the week. Half of the students still looked like they were asleep while the other half were looking at her like she was a literary messiah. It was almost comical, and when lunchtime rolled around, she was in a pretty great mood. Until she realized she was still on the fence about going to the quad. 

"Just do a vibe check," she muttered as she grabbed her lunch from her office. "If they look pissed off, you can come right back here and never talk to anyone else again for the rest of your life." She could subside on sandwiches and online poetry and only speak when she was giving lectures. That sounded simultaneously amazing and also terrifying.

The college campus was bustling today. There were some guys skateboarding through the quad, and she recognized a few other faculty members from the English department who waved to her. But that didn't stop her palms from sweating and her heart from thudding in a sickening rhythm that Edgar Alan Poe would think was beautiful. When she spotted the two women on the bench in front of the weird tree, Anna was shocked to see them waving to her with smiles on their faces. 

"Anna!" called Jessica. "You'll never believe it! The vending machine just gave me my bottle of Pepsi and a bonus bottle of ginger ale! Like it knew I was about to see you!"

"Chaos Theory at its finest," said the other woman before she bit into her carrot stick and hummus. 

"It's really more of the Butterfly Effect," Jessica replied. Anna had no idea what they were talking about, but they scooted away from each other on the bench to make room, so she decided to stay.

Anna swallowed hard as she sat and opened her pack of peanuts. "How was the rest of your weekend?" she asked the two of them, and soon her nerves calmed down. 

"Excellent. Bradley and I took a tour of the library yesterday."

"Pretty good. I helped Jake make waffles for breakfast. Lots and lots and lots of waffles. What did you do with the rest of your weekend? After the Hard Deck?"

Anna accepted the bottle of ginger ale that Jessica handed to her as she said, "Um, well I did my lesson plans for the next few weeks. And I started writing my midterm exams. Nothing exciting."

She was met with a bit of awkward silence, and she could feel the two women sharing a look behind her head. "Did you happen to text Bob?" Advanced Calculus asked cautiously, and Anna knew this was the part where it was all over. The dramatic climax, except she was actually the villain in this story.

"No, actually. I think that ship has sailed," she replied softly. 

"Why?" Jessica asked, not unkindly. "When we figured out that you and he already met at the bookstore in North Park, we were ecstatic. He's the mystery guy you were losing your mind over, Anna! The handsome one with glasses who smells so good!"

"He really does smell good," Advanced Calculus muttered as she dipped another carrot into the hummus which was probably unfairly homemade. "Are you no longer attracted to him? Was it his nerdy tee shirt? Or were all the guys so obnoxious you couldn't wait to leave?"

Anna held onto the cold bottle of ginger ale a little tighter as she said, "It's not that at all. I mean, who in their right mind wouldn't be attracted to Bob? And I thought his shirt was kind of charming. And the rest of the guys were welcoming in a slightly intense way."

Now Jessica was turned to face her, eyes wide behind her glasses. "Bob thinks you ran away from him twice now because he's unappealing and boring."

Anna jolted and the pack of peanuts went flying to the ground, nuts rolling in every direction. "He does?" she asked, palms beginning to sweat again.

"Yeah. Big time. But he's quite attracted to you. Apparently the red hair is a thing."

"Oh my god," Anna moaned in embarrassment. Bob liked her red hair? "Oh no. No. No. He's just.... he's so.... and he's also.... I can't even." She took a deep breath as she kicked at the lost peanuts. "Bob is so handsome. It's hard to look into his eyes for too long, because you start to feel like you're going to break out into song. And I don't think I've ever been around a man who smells quite that nice. And he's funny and just a touch nerdy, but that's a good thing." 

There was another beat of silence before Advanced Calculus said, "I'm not really understanding what the problem is."

Anna shook her head and unwrapped her sandwich to keep her hands busy. "Listen, none of my weirdness is because of him. It's all because of me. I can't have a crush on him. I can't be interested in him. I can't be interested in any men whatsoever."

Jessica nudged her shoulder and said, "Maybe you could just text him? Maybe making another new friend wouldn't be so bad?"

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

"Well if you can't find a girlfriend, I hope you're at least getting your rocks off with an attractive lady."

Bob was cradling his forehead in his hand and trying to escape from Suzanne's house without having this conversation. Whenever he stopped to pick up dinner instead of cooking something at home, he always brought something for her, too. It was the neighborly thing to do, especially when your neighbor was decades older than you, but right now he just wanted to vanish. 

"I wouldn't tell you even if I was," he replied, earning a laugh as she opened up the container of soup at her kitchen table. 

"Sit down and stay for a while," she told him, pointing to the empty chair. "I'll pay you back for dinner with my charm and witticism since you won't accept any money."

His phone started to vibrate in his uniform pocket, and he dug it out thinking it was probably Jessica having finished mocking up her barbarian character for their campaign, but it was a text from an unknown number. He was about to pocket his phone again, but then he saw the words book recommendations and paused. He quickly unlocked the phone and started reading the texts that were coming through.

I have some book recommendations for you if you still want them. I'm sorry I didn't send them over the weekend.

This is Anna, by the way.

I should have started with that information.

Wow. This is already embarrassing.

Bob laughed and started to type back immediately, and then Suzanne's voice cut across his thoughts. "Are you sure you don't have a special lady? You're smiling an awful lot at your phone."

He looked at her and shook his head. "I'm sure. I like this girl, but she doesn't return my feelings that way. She's just sending me some recommendations." He started to back away as he added, "Enjoy your soup. I'll see you later, Suzanne."

"Good night, Robert."

Bob ended up standing just inside his front door as he saved Anna's number and typed back a message to her. He thought keeping it simple would be his best move. Anything more than that and he'd embarrass himself once again by getting ahead of himself with his feelings. 

I would love some more recommendations from you. You're the expert.

He only had to wait about a minute for her response, which was just a list of book after book after book that he'd never even heard of. The first were the ones she'd given to him verbally on Friday night, but the rest were just as foreign to him.

Anna Webber: Persuasion by Austen. Northanger Abbey by Austen, Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy, Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell, and The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas (because you like poetry so much)

Bob quickly ate his own container of soup while he read the list over and over again. Then without changing out of his uniform, he grabbed the keys to his beat up truck and headed to the bookstore in North Park to see if he could find any of these titles before they closed.

The store was virtually empty, and when he climbed the stairs up to the slightly dusty loft he could practically picture Anna's pretty hands and painted nails gliding along all of the spines. He could imagine her pretty, wide eyes looking up at him before she figured out he was boring. He could hear her laugh as he made his way to the spot where they had been standing together.

That horrible Vonnegut book was still there which made him chuckle. "Figures nobody else would want to read it," he muttered as he reached for it. Then he backtracked a little bit to start collecting everything from Anna's list. He referenced his text messages several times, hunting all over the Classics section until he had almost everything in order. Then he spread them out along the shelf and took a photo. He texted it to her before he could second guess himself after he added a short caption. 

Did I miss anything?

He was walking back down to the poetry section when his phone vibrated.

Anna Webber: You're at the bookstore right now? The one in North Park?

Bob froze in the middle of the stairs. He embarrassed himself without even knowing it. He must seem desperate right now. Running out to the store as soon as she sent him the list. "Shit," he groaned softly. When he got another message, he was almost afraid to look at it.

Anna Webber: I LOVE that store. I wish I were there right now, too.

Bob thought that sounded perfect, actually. Maybe if she were here now, she wouldn't run away this time. He'd been playing those kinds of scenarios over and over in his head, ones where she liked him back the way he liked her. Ones where they left the bookstore holding hands.

He continued downstairs to look for the book of poems she suggested for him, which he found quickly, along with Votive by Keiran Goddard. Would Anna like a copy of his favorite book of poetry? Did he even want to ask her? At this point, he had nothing to lose. She wasn't going to suddenly want him, but that shouldn't stop him from sharing a recommendation of his own. Especially when she might really enjoy something he found so spectacular. 

Bob held the book up and snapped a quick selfie, sending it away into the universe before dwelling on it too much.

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

Anna was preparing a piece of toast with jelly for herself or dinner, desperately wishing she were back at the bookstore. Bob was there, probably smelling so nice and luring everyone else who was shopping closer to him. Perhaps he was wearing another Dungeons & Dragons shirt like he'd worn to the Navy bar. Perhaps his biceps were straining against it.

She didn't have to use her vivid imagination for very long, because suddenly Bob was staring at her through her phone screen with his crooked little smile and his beautiful eyes. And his uniform. 

"Oh my god." The toast slipped from her fingers and landed jelly side down on her plate as she took in every single detail. Navy uniforms were khaki? Why had she assumed they were all navy blue? Why didn't she know more about the Navy? She was going to take the time to learn everything she could about the United States Navy. 

When she realized her mouth was dry, she reached for her glass of water and downed it. She was in a daze. A Bob Floyd induced daze. Even all the little pins on his shirt were distracting. She wanted to count all of them. She wanted to touch them. She wondered what they would feel like if she pressed her lips to them. 

"Stop," she gasped. But she couldn't. Now her eyes drifted up to his face again, and she thought she'd only really ever seen the exact color of his eyes in a Kandinsky painting at the Guggenheim. She couldn't look away. "No. No. No!" she moaned. And then she finally read the actual message he'd typed out after gawking at his photo for five whole minutes. 

Bob Floyd: Have you ever read Votive by Keiran Goddard? It's my favorite collection of poetry. 

Anna laughed a little hysterically. She hadn't even noticed he was holding up a book at all. His graceful fingers were wrapped around the damn thing, but she'd been too distracted by him to actually look at the book. But now the fact that she'd never read Goddard before had her flushed and flustered, because Bob had sent a book recommendation to her. Nobody ever did that, and all she could think about was how she absolutely needed to get her hands on a copy and devour the whole entire thing if it was something he liked. 

Very calmly and rationally, she typed back to him.

I have not read it yet, but I'll add it to my list of things to check out of the library. 

When she set her phone down and realized her toast had become a casualty to this text conversation, she moaned and flipped it back over. Her heart was still beating a little erratically from looking at Bob's photo for too long, and she didn't think she could even eat. There was no way she could waste any food in her current financial state though, so she took a bite anyway as he texted her back.

Bob Floyd: I'll just pick it up for you while I'm here. I hope you'll like it, but if you hate it, that's okay too. It's a bit of an acquired taste.

Oh no. She couldn't let him buy it, because she didn't have any extra spending money at the moment to be able to pay him back. But admitting that to him would be excruciatingly embarrassing, and she didn't even think she could do it. Perhaps she could scrape together twenty dollars if she skipped a few meals, but then she wouldn't be able to join the girls in the quad at lunchtime. They'd notice her lack of food right away. 

"Why are you such a disaster?" she asked herself as she scarfed down the rest of her toast and typed back to him.

Thank you. I can pay you back for it later.

She would figure it out. She always did. Even when she didn't want to, she managed to find a way to solve her problems. Even when it hurt.

Bob Floyd: It's my treat. I can give it to Bradley or Jake at work tomorrow. I'm sure either of the ladies wouldn't mind getting it to you when they see you. Or if you feel like it, we could meet for coffee one day and I could give it to you in person. Just let me know.

"Oh, Anna," she whispered, already typing out a response before she could think better of it.

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

Bob was surprised Anna took him up on his offer to meet for coffee, but he found himself looking forward to it in spite of the fact that he was still pining a bit. He'd get over it in time. He'd find someone new to crush on, or maybe he'd meet another girl that he was interested in, and maybe she would be interested back. But none of that stopped him from being excited at the prospect of being around her again. And none of that prepared him for the way he felt when Anna pushed through the door of the coffee shop on Wednesday evening and looked around tentatively. Her red hair was in another loose braid, and her freckles were so endearing.

As soon as her eyes landed on him, she looked less apprehensive but also more resigned. When she approached the table where he was sitting with three books, he stood. "Hey. Anna. How are you?"

"Hi, Bob." Even her voice was soft and sweet as her eyes swept along his face and body. She blushed a pretty shade of pink as she said, "Thanks for the book. Will you let me buy you something to drink?"

He didn't respond beyond nodding and leading the way toward the counter. He listened to her order a small coffee before he ordered a large hot tea, and when she reached for her wallet, he was already handing over a twenty. When she looked up at him with wide, brown eyes, he just smiled. "You don't have to buy me a drink."

She watched the money leave his hand as she said, "Well, you don't have to buy me one either."

"Too late."

She was quiet as they returned to the small table with their hot beverages, but as soon as she sat, she said, "You'll have to let me pay next time."

Bob slid two of the books across the table as he asked, "Next time?" But she didn't respond as she let her fingers brush along Votive before she picked it up to reveal the one underneath it.

Anna's laughter filled the small space as her eyes darted back up to meet his. "You bought Cat's Cradle? I didn't think that was the kind of thing you were looking for?"

He glanced down into his tea. "Uh, it's not. I got it for you."

"Bob," she said quietly, her fingers tracing the spine now. He liked her nail polish and wanted to touch her hands. "You did not have to get me two books."

"Yes I did," he said with a smile. "Vonnegut sounds horrible. I felt bad for it because nobody else was ever going to buy it. I couldn't just leave it to rot on the shelf when I know the only person who would be willing to give it a nice home."

When she laughed again, she seemed resigned to the fact that the books were both hers. "Thanks. Money is a little tight for me right now. You know how it is when you first move," she told him while she fidgeted a bit. "But next time, I'll buy your drink. Or your book. Or something."

"You keep saying 'next time'."

Anna poked at her coffee cup and said, "I thought maybe.... we could be friends."

"Friends." His voice felt and sounded stale. The word made him feel sadder than it should have. "Of course."

She looked even more relieved now as she took a sip of her coffee, but Bob was busy trying not to memorize the pretty pattern of her freckles across her nose and the way her lips were pursed. He wouldn't look at a friend that way. 

"Which book is that?" she asked, nodding toward the last one in front of him. 

He flipped it over so she could see the cover, and he said, "Oh, it's The Age of Innocence. I'm almost done reading it, and I was just hoping to get your opinions on a few things."

Anna's eyes went wider. "You're almost done reading it? Already?"

"Yeah." His voice sounded like a groan, and he knew he should be embarrassed since she recommended it two days ago, but he said, "Once I start a new book, I can't put it down if it's good."

"So you like it?" she asked, leaning a little closer to him as a smile played along her lips. 

"It's fantastic," he replied, and her foot brushed his softly beneath the table.

Anna licked her lips and shifted in her seat as she made a soft sound that just made Bob want to get closer to her. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her and cleared her throat before she blurted out. "You're really handsome." His lips parted wordlessly, unsure how to respond, but he didn't have to as she immediately said, "And you're not boring. Not at all. I could have stayed in that dusty bookstore all afternoon, tucked away in the loft, talking to you about book after book."

"Oh," he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Really?"

"Yes. Really," she said, and it sounded like she meant it. "I didn't disappear because of you. I disappeared because of me. And I'm really sorry about that."

Then he realized what was going on. His friends got to her already. He'd told Jessica on Saturday night that he was sure Anna ditched him because he's probably not as handsome or interesting as she's used to. And now he was going to have to text her and tell her to lay off. This whole thing was embarrassing enough without having to hear Anna pity him like this.

"Don't worry about it," he told her softly with his best attempt at a smile. "We can be friends."

When he got home, she texted him to thank him again for the books and the coffee. But he was still thinking about her freckles and how far down her neck they might go. Maybe they made a pretty pattern across her shoulders, too. Maybe they would disappear into her bra, a perfect treasure for another man to find. But not Bob. Bob and Anna were just friends.

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

When Anna finally got home after taking two buses, it was so late, she knew she should go right to bed. But she was wishing for another cheap bottle of wine to try to take her mind off of Bob. He was perfect, and she couldn't let herself have him. They could be friends, but nothing more. She could send him texts, but they couldn't flirt. 

She already missed his soft voice and the way he gave her his entire focus when they were together. He bought her two books! Nobody else ever bought her books! And he read the ones she recommended to him! Maybe Kevin was to blame for most things that had gone wrong in her life, but literally no man she'd ever known was as kind and thoughtful as Bob.

She collapsed back onto her bed in her sad apartment were she could look at her kitchen and her bathroom at the same time, and she opened the book of poetry. Bob's favorite poetry. Within minutes of reading the first few pages, she felt warmer and maybe a little flustered. The passages were romantic and insightful in such a familiar way. Something was tickling at her brain, trying to trigger a memory. She kept reading, making it fifteen pages in before she gasped and realized what it was. 

"Sky Writing," she murmured, reaching for her computer in favor of the book. She was reminded of her favorite novice poet from her favorite website. The poetry in the book sounded a bit like the poems written by Sky Writing, and now Anna was even more of a mess knowing that this was the kind of intimate literature Bob preferred to read. 

She wanted him. She wanted to know what his big, sturdy hands would feel like on her body. What his lips tasted like. She wanted to erase that pinch of doubt she saw on his face when she tried to reassure him that even though they were going to be just friends, she definitely found him attractive. 

The next time she went shopping, she was going to need to stock up on some more bottles of cheap wine.

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

Just friends. Okay, Anna. Sure, babe. Let's see how long that lasts. Bob's wingwomen are powerful. Thank you @lauratang for the book/reading list! And thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

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