#i haven't written anything m rated in a while

[multistanisms]

Save a Horse || Ateez

FANDOM: Ateez

PAIRING: Hongjoong x fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5407

RATING: M

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: Biting, degradation [honestly, I'm not sure, so if anyone finds one, please let me know?]

SUMMARY: The staff of KQ know full well about the nonhumans who have taken the world by storm with their music. The last to reveal their nature is Hongjoong, a demon-siren hybrid. Despite staff worrying for his girlfriend, what only the members know is that the little witch is a delight that's not afraid of Hongjoong's darkness.

TAGLIST: @daceydeath, @justaaveragereader, @no1likemybbgcharlie, @spookidema

AUTHOR NOTES: Y'all please be nice, I haven't written smut in literal years. I saw the outfit Joong wears in this fic when I got to see Ateez back in July, and it has just sat and rotted my brain to mush, so here we are. Not beta'd this time around, but I did reread three times to try and catch everything. Much thanks to Dacey and Syd especially, because sometimes my depresso bean self needs some encouragement to share my weird joys. Enjoy, my dearies. <3

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One of the perks of your audio production degree was a free seat at the mixing booth during shows when you don't want to stay at the hotel waiting on Hongjoong to get back. Tonight was one such night, but the staff kept looking at you in a way that confused you. While the other members had been open with the company about their races from debut - from Seonghwa’s selkie blood to San’s Cheshire form, Hongjoong had only recently revealed to staff that despite masquerading as a regular human, his heritage ran closer to the other members of Ateez - as he was a demon/siren hybrid. Perhaps they were concerned for you, though they were unaware you yourself were a witch. Sitting at the booth as you watched the crowd pour in from the rain outside, you pulled your phone out to text your boyfriend. 

⇐: Hey gorgeous. How's it going?

My Captain: There's my beautiful girl. We were just talking about you.

⇐: Who's we, Joong?

My Captain: Hwa, Mingi and I. I was asking for opinions on what I should wear during the last set.

⇐: And you didn't ask me? 

My Captain: I want it to be a surprise, precious. It is our anniversary, after all.

The text stops you and you have to swipe down to check the date. Sure enough, it's the one year date since Hongjoong asked you to officially be his mate. Neither of you counted the two years of fuck buddy/situationship before that.

⇐: It really doesn't feel like it's already been a year already, holy shit. I didn't get you anything, baby. 😭

My Captain: Don't worry, after the flight to the next city, we have two days before we even have to do anything big. I'm sure we'll think of something.

⇐: How about we start with me making dinner?

My Captain: The show lets out late, beautiful. We have to do the send off tonight, which takes longer. But don't worry, I've got it handled.

⇐: Should I be concerned?

My Captain: Hardly. Just have fun. I'll listen for your screams in the crowd. 😉

⇐: Like you'll hear me with the sold out stadium of Atiny, baby. The seats are already almost full.

My Captain: Come now, you think I can't find your voice even with a full house? I know it so well, after all.

The blush that heated from your neck up into your face made you lower your head. You waved a hand dismissively when one of the nearby staff asked if you were okay, diverting by asking for some water. Once the member had wandered off, you took a breath to settle yourself before responding.

⇐: You have a show, Hongjoong. Focus on that instead of my screaming, yeah?

My Captain: Oh, I know there’s a show. Don’t worry, I’ll get the screams later. 😚

Your eyes roll at his antics, slipping your phone back into your jacket pocket and settling into the rolling chair as you move to watch the stage and willing the blush on her face to fade. The show is always a work of art, the energy Hongjoong and his team gave never failing to amaze you; though with none of them being human, it makes sense their energy is slow to fade. You loved watching the group perform, but sometimes it was hard not to focus on just Hongjoong. You enjoyed the concert in its entirety, but as the boys came back for the final encore set, you couldn't help the sharp intake of breath as you saw the outfit your boyfriend was wearing. Dark blue jeans clad his legs, covering the black boots he wore. His shirt was a black button up that hugged against his body, perfectly showing off his torso while simultaneously still leaving room for the imagination - though you didn't need to use it. The bolo tie was a good accent of silver against the shirt, but the obvious piece de resistance was the dark colored leather cowboy hat he wore atop his head. The sight alone stole your breath, unable to even glance at any of the other members for the duration of the encore. “You fucking menace.” Your tone is a quiet, breathy growl as the boys all line up on the lift to be dropped down and you move to stand, bidding the staff goodnight and making your way to the dressing rooms. 

Hongjoong is still wearing the hat as he laughs with Wooyoung and Mingi, but the moment he lays his eyes on you and all out smirks, you know he chose the outfit on purpose. He steps to one side so he can pull you to him, dipping his head to kiss you while his hands slid to rest at the small of your back. He's extra warm from performing, but you settle into him with ease. “There's my girl.” he teased when he pulled away, smiling down at you.

“What are you trying to do in this, huh? Drive me absolutely insane?”

“Partly. I do have a few better ideas, though.” He grinned, one hand moving to tuck his fingers under your chin and bring your lips back to his. “But those have to wait until we're back at the hotel.” He laughs quietly when your response is a quiet whine as you pout. “Don't worry, baby. All that's left is send off, you don't have to wait much longer.”

“But you look so good.” you counter, arms moving from his waist to snake at his neck and let your fingers play with the hair at the back of his head. 

“I know, Y/N. Tell you what. You take my card, get us something for dinner and I'll meet you at the hotel, okay? I'll come straight to you as soon as we're done.”

“Promise?”

“Swear it.” Hongjoong replies, stealing another kiss. 

“Fine.” You reluctantly pull away, immediately missing his warmth as he enters the dressing room. As the door closes, you catch the familiar sound of San’s naturally pouty voice as he teased his leader. You laugh a little, aware of the muffled noises inside as you lean against the wall by the door to wait. The chatter inside bursts louder as Hongjoong reappears, hat no longer resting atop his head. “Awh, where'd my cowboy go?” You tease as your lips pout playfully, which grants you another kiss. 

“Don't worry, baby girl, I'm still your cowboy,” he assures, hand slipping his card into the back pocket of your jeans. “And only your cowboy.” He laughs as you hide your face in your hands at the growl in his voice, his own coming to wrap at your wrists and gently urge them away from their position as he changes to a softer, playful tone. “Come now, don't hide from me, Y/N. You know I love it when you blush for me.” 

“Oh hush, you. You shouldn’t be fucking growling at me in public when you look like this.” You huff playfully, but you're powerless to the soft tone he uses, looking up at him just so you can see him smile at you as if you'd hung the moon itself. “Just come home quick, yeah?”

“As soon as I can slip away, I will be there.” 

You go to step back so you can leave, but as he opens the door to leave you, you reach for his wrist, tugging him back to you to steal one last kiss, smirking as you nip your teeth over his lower lip and he groans loudly. His eyes flash crimson, and you know you’ve tempted him in return. Satisfied you've returned the favor when he's already tempted you, you ruffle your fingers through his hair and quickly step out of reach. “I love you.” You laugh as you slip out of view. You can just barely catch the familiar ring of his darker laughter, knowing that you were in for at least a little bit of trouble when he got back to the hotel. It was worth it, though, seeing as he'd sauntered around on stage in the outfit just to rile you up. 

All’s fair in love and war, right? 

You pass through familiar faces of staff, congratulating them as you find your way out to the underground garage where your rental is parked near the bus. Traffic is still going to be a mess, but not as insane with the show having a send off, so you have time to think of what to get for dinner. You settle on fried chicken, looking up the nearest place that serves it because you don't think you have time to finish cooking before your boyfriend joins you. Once you find a place, you order food for the two of you and head towards the restaurant. As you pull into the shopping center and get out, you spot another shop nearby that catches your eye, and you go there first before grabbing dinner and stopping to get some ice cream for dessert. The drive from the shopping center to the hotel isn't long, thankfully, and you find yourself sliding the key card through the door in no time at all compared to leaving the arena. The company always makes sure there's decent accommodations for everyone, and you set the bag of food in the kitchenette counter so you can put the ice cream away. You then go to change into more comfortable clothes - a pair of pajama pants and a tank top you'd stolen from Hongjoong (who had purposely gotten it too big so you would steal it). You turned your little speaker on to play music, going about moving the desk chairs closer together and setting out the boxes of food. You're singing as you go about the process, lost in the sheer domestication, and don't register the sound of the door unlocking. Hongjoong’s voice harmonizing with your own as his arms wrap around you from behind startles you from your mind and you laugh a little. “Hey there, gorgeous.” You greet, adjusting so you can tilt your head back and let him kiss you. “How was send off?”

“It was fun, but honestly, I was also a little out of it.” Hongjoong admitted. “I’m pretty sure I missed interacting with a few fans.”

“I'm sure they'll forgive you.” You playfully banter back. “You deserved to be distracted after what you did to me.”

“Oh, I plan on doing a lot more than distracting you, princess.” Hongjoong's voice pitches into a growl, head dipping to bite at where your pulse beats just under your jaw. He holds you securely even as your legs threaten to give out. 

“Fuck, Joong.” You breathe, one hand moving to slide into his hair. You can feel the laugh even as he continues to bite and suck at your skin, intent on making sure a possessive mark is left behind when he's done. 

“I know all your sweet spots after three years, baby. You should have known I'd use them after that tease.” The smirk in his voice is evident as one hand snakes lower so he can slip it beneath the fabric of your pajama pants, but stops just beneath the hem to simply brush his fingers over your hip gently.

“Kim Hongjoong, we've been over this. It isn't a tease if you have every intention of following through.” Your words are breathless even as you correct him, barely keeping yourself up because true to his word, Hongjoong knows every spot that drives you wild. “And if you thought for a moment I wouldn't follow through when you look this delicious, well, that's just sad.” You're very aware of the heat pooling in your body, turning into putty with every touch and kiss Hongjoong places on your body. 

“Did you think I wouldn't follow through?” He smirks, stepping away to pull you towards the bed. “Did it not occur to you that I picked this exact outfit specifically for you?”

“Oh yeah, just for me? Why, so I could jump your bones, handsome?” You tease back, your voice shaky from desire as he brings you to the bed. 

“Maybe. Would that make it better, princess?” Hongjoong cooed, moving to make you sit on the foot of the bed so he can settle on his knees between your legs. Dark eyes looked up at you, the sheer lustful adoration in them making you bite your lip and moan. 

“How are you so fucking gorgeous on your knees? It's not fair.” You pout, moving to tilt the hat back so you can see his face better. He smirks up at you, reaching up to remove the hat and set it aside, hands moving to the waistband of your pants to tug them down, his eyes watching you as you adjust to help him remove the fabric easier. When his eyes lower, he groans, eyes closing briefly. 

“What are these?” He coos breathily, fingers trailing up your thighs to tease over the navy colored lace of the underwear you have on. 

“I figured since I didn't have a gift, I could find something else to give you.” Your voice is smug even as he brushes his thumb over the fabric covering your core, biting your lip. “Happened to find a shop that was still open and I know how much you like me in lace.”

“I do love you in lace, baby, but you've never made a special trip like this just for me.”

You pout at his response despite the desire burning through your veins. “Do you not-”

“I love it, princess, please don't doubt that. You're fucking spoiling me with this. I couldn't ask for a more perfect anniversary gift. I simply can't decide if I want to ruin these panties while you're wearing them or take them off and just devour you.” One hand is pressed at the crotch of his jeans where his length is already visible through the denim, and you almost feel sorry for his indecision. Almost. 

He started it by wearing the damn cowboy outfit he's in, after all.

“Would seeing the set help you decide?” you ask, and the feral heat in his eyes as they swirl crimson in desire when he looks up at you makes you giggle, crossing your arms over your body to grab the hem of the shirt and pull it off, revealing the matching lace bra underneath the tank top. There's a pride that swells when he moans loudly at the sight of you in nothing but the lingerie set. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he lurches up at you, sealing his lips over yours as his hands move to cup at your chest, massaging your breasts as he moans into your mouth. You can't help but laugh out a soft moan as he trails his lips further down your neck, leaving open mouth kisses and a faint touch of saliva on your skin. “So beautiful, so soft…can't believe you're really mine.”

One hand moves to play in his hair, gripping at the brown tresses gently. “I'm only yours, Joong, my delicious cowboy. You claimed me a long time ago.” You shiver as his laugh vibrates through you, his hands moving to unclasp the bra before nudging at you to lay down so he can hover over you, your arms above your head as you look at each other longingly. “Our food will get cold, baby.”

“There's only one thing I'm hungry for right now.” Hongjoong breathes, holding himself up with one hand as he dips his head, taking one nipple in his mouth while his fingers scratch gently and pinch at the other. The ministration makes your back arch, one hand returning to his hair to tug at the strands. It earns you a pretty little moan, Hongjoong switching his mouth to the opposite nipple. Teeth graze over the sensitive bud and you gasp, hips bucking up suddenly and letting you feel just how hard your boyfriend already is for you. Hongjoong laughs, pulling away to kiss you. “I love how responsive you are to my mouth, princess.”

“I'm responsive to you, Hongjoong, not just your mouth.” You manage to breathe back, tongue wetting your lips when he pulls away. 

“Well, I plan on using my mouth thoroughly first.” Hongjoong grins down at you, starting to trail bites and kisses down your body. When he gets low enough, his teeth clasp onto the fabric of the panties and tug. Unable to help yourself you prop up on your elbows to watch him, hips lifting just enough to aid his task. His eyes stay locked on you as he works the fabric down. Once it's low enough, he uses his hands to finish removing it, kissing up the inside of your thigh. “Mhmm, how many times should I drive you over that edge, hmm? My precious girl.”

You can't help but reach out to card your hand through his hair again, licking your lips. “As long as I get a chance to reciprocate in between. It's not just about me, baby.” 

“I could get off just listening to your noises, Y/N. You know that.”

“Mm, but I like getting you off in other ways.” You fire back. “My cowboy needs some physical touch, too.” You're more than aware of the shiver than runs through his body, picking up the hat to put it back on his head. “Let me ride you like a good girl, yeah? What is it they say? Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” The words seem to break his will to debate, arms wrapping around your thighs and tugging you towards his face.

“Let me taste you first. I want you to fall apart on my tongue before you go on your ride. Be a good girl and speak up for me.” He doesn't give you a chance to respond, mouth enveloping your folds and swirling his tongue around your clit. Having him between your legs like this is nothing new, he loves getting to please you in this way, but the hat sits just so that he can look up at you and yet you couldn't see him, which somehow added to your arousal. One hand moves up to lace his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand as he moans. The sound vibrates into your body, making you wetter as your eyes close and you moan in return.

“Fuck, Joong, baby,” you know you can't last long after the build up, and it doesn't bother Hongjoong at all, he sucks harder at your clit, sliding two fingers between your folds as he continues. The sensations are too much and not enough, your body unable to decide if it wants to pull away or press closer. Hongjoong obviously senses it, adjusting so he's hovering better over your core, slowly adding a third finger before scissoring them. Your back comes off the bed as you cry out, eyes closing as you grip at the sheets and your head slams back onto the bed. You're right on the edge, feeling your body quake from how tight the coil of your pleasure is. “Joong, mm, Hongjoong, fuck, don't stop, please baby, don't stop.” It’s obvious he has every intention of having you hit that first orgasm quickly, his mouth sucking harder as his hand speeds up at your pleas. It doesn't take much longer before your legs fight against his hold, your release spilling on his fingers and tongue while you half scream his name. He doesn't stop though, making sure you ride out the high as he takes every bit you give him, moaning like he's just had his favorite meal. When you whine, he pulls away, knowing it means you've become too sensitive.

“Did your cowboy do good?”

“So good.” You pant, watching him with half-lidded eyes. “But it's my turn now, Joong.” He smirks up at you, moving onto the bed so he can kiss you deeply, swiping his tongue over your lower lip to ask for entrance. You open your mouth eagerly, letting him make you taste yourself as you moan into the kiss, pulling at his shirt to hold him close. His hands lift to start unbuttoning his shirt but you smack at his hand. “No.” you whine. “Let me taste you while you're still like this, please? You can take it off when you fuck me, I just want to see you fall apart like this.” You beg, fingers already working open his jeans as you start to slide off the bed and try to tug him over. His hands catch your wrists, however, a stern command escaping his lips as your knees touch the floor. 

“No, baby girl, get up from there.”

“But-”

“Y/N, I didn’t say no. I just don’t want you on the hotel floor like a common whore.”

“But I’m your whore, Captain.” you counter, grinning when the name makes his gaze darken. “I don’t mind being on my knees for you like a good girl.”

“Princess, we’ve already been over this.” His grip at your wrists tightens and he tugs you up to standing, getting off the bed himself to look down at you from your height difference. He leans in, swiping his tongue up your neck and grazing his teeth over your pulse before growling quietly in your ear, the sound alone making you shiver. “You may be my whore, but you will not sully yourself on the floor of hotel rooms. So if you’re so intent on sliding my cock down that pretty little throat of yours,” he pauses to dip his head to the other side, biting hard at where your neck and shoulder meet, smirking at the moan you make and the way your body quivers before he lifts his lips to your ear again. “Get your ass back on the bed like a good girl.” 

The obedience is immediate, you crawling onto the bed the moment he releases the hold on your wrists, tongue wetting your lips as you wait patiently for him to join you. You sit back with your legs tucked underneath, hands clenching as you lower your gaze for a moment. When he moves to join you on the bed, he slides his jeans down just enough to reveal the boxers underneath, leaving the clothing on per your request as he settles on the bed and leans back against the headboard. You can feel his gaze on you, a shiver of pleasure down your spine as he hums appreciatively at your nude form before opening his arms. 

“Come here, darling girl. Let me kiss you.”

You move closer to him, scooting up the bed and letting him guide you between his legs so he can lean into him, sealing your lips together. You moan as his fingers wind their way into your hair, his nails becoming claws to faintly scratch over your scalp. This kiss is heated, Hongjoong dominating the contact with ease as he holds you to him. Your hands move lower, fingers brushing over the outline of his cock through the boxers he wears. “Please, Joong,” you beg between kisses, voice little more than a whine. “My Captain, my soulmate, please.”

Hongjoong hums, the sound vibrating in his chest as he swipes his tongue over your lips again. “What is it, my precious? What do you want from Captain, hmm?” He’s mocking you, and you know it, but it’s so undeniably sexy because he saves the sexual torment specifically for you. “Use your words, be a good girl for me, yeah?”

One hand moves shamelessly over his erection, whining helplessly as you press just faintly against the bulge. “Let me taste you, please. I need it.”

“Mm, look at you, begging so pretty for me.” he smirks as he drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you’re very aware of the way he’s completely dropped his human facade, fangs catching your skin as he tugs your lip teasingly. “So good and obedient. I haven’t even given you my cock but you’re already drunk on it.”

“Drunk on you, Hongjoong.” you weakly correct, whimpering as one hand reaches up to wrap around your throat for a moment. 

“Yeah, it’s just my presence making you so wet and needy?” he tilts his head, crimson eyes glowing and he smirks at you, and you’re very aware of the way you can feel the emotions between each other.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand covering the one he has at your throat. “Please, Joong. Please let me have you in my mouth. I can be such a good girl, please.”

“Oh, I know you can be. You’re always so good, even when you’re getting punished.” Hongjoong growls, leaning to kiss you roughly. “Have your fill, my princess. I’ll let you enjoy my cock.”

You almost collapse into his lap, thanking him wildly as your hands move to slide the boxers down and let his shaft free. There’s already precum glistening on the tip and you lean to swipe your tongue over it, proud when you hear Hongjoong moan and his length twitches under your touch. You start slowly, lowering your mouth over him through a few breaths through your nose, waiting until his shaft grazes the back of your throat before moaning. Hongjoong has one hand gripping the sheets, claws tugging at the fabric as the other moves to pull your hair from your face. 

“Look at you, knowing how to use your mouth like a good little slut.” Hongjoong both praises and degrades, fully aware of the way you squirm at the words. “You like making me writhe for you, don’t you? Like watching me while you fuck me with your mouth?” The hand in the sheets moves as the other tugs at your hair, pulling you from his length enough to brush his fingers over your lips while one of your hands wraps around him to stroke him while he holds you away from the length. “I showed you how good it feels, and now you love to do it, huh?” He watches as you nod. 

“I like seeing how good it makes you feel,” your voice is rough, but you hold his eyes, smirking at him. “I love the way you moan and hiss, the way you praise me for pleasing you right.”

“You do love to be praised, huh?” Hongjoong mocks, hips rocking up into your hand as he speaks. “You get so wet and needy when I tell you you’re doing a good job. My perfect mate, my good girl, always being so attentive to my reactions. I taught you so well, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Captain.” you reply.

“I should reward you, princess.”

You shake your head a little. “Not yet, please. Let me be a good girl and please you first.”

“You’re already being such a good girl, though, Y/N.” He teases, but when you once more shake your head, he smirks at you. “Ahhh, I know what it is you want. You want us even before I fill you with my cock, don’t you? You want me to cum all over your tits so I can clean up my mess, yeah?” When you moan with a near-frantic nod, legs squeezing together as you lick your lips, he hums thoughtfully.

“Yes,” you beg, eyes closing. “Yes, please, Hongjoong. My soul, my captain, my love.” Your hand still works over him, and you know he’s aware of the way he’s leaking precum, his eyes never leaving yours. He then nods, relaxing the hold on your hair so you can once more dive onto him, hollowing your cheeks every few bobs of your head to further spur him to his first end. You recognize the way his head tilts back, the way his legs fall open even more, how his hips roll erratically up into your mouth. Suddenly, his hand tightens and pulls you up, a string of saliva connecting your now swollen lips to his throbbing member. Your hand returns to stroking him, adjust so your chest hovers near his shaft. His free hand moves to join your own at his length, applying just a little more pressure as he watches you.

“Can’t wait to see you painted in my cum, to clean up your tits while you ride my cock.” he pants, body quaking as he gets closer. A few more pumps from your hands and his release hits him, coating your breasts in his seed as his head falls back and whacks the headboard, his eyes closed as he breathes. “Fuck, princess,” he huffs, opening his eyes to smirk down at you. “Such a good job. Couldn’t have asked for a better mate than my magic girl.”

You giggle breathlessly, moving to close his legs so you can tug at his pants, smirking up at him as he comes down from his high, watching you as he catches his breath. “I love when I get to see you like this.”

“Drained of every fluid and aching for more of you?” Hongjoong jokes, his eyes still glowing even in the light of the hotel room. 

You shake your head, letting the denim and the boxers fall to the side of the bed, scooting up to straddle him while your fingers begin unbuttoning the shirt. “Your true form, Hongjoong. The demon I fell in love with.”

“I fell in love with you first, you know.” Hongjoong sits up to help you slide the shirt off, hands then roaming over your body. “The first time you asked to see this form, I knew I was lost on you. You stole my heart when I didn’t even think I had one to steal.” he tilted his head to kiss at your shoulder and up to your neck, his claws teasing over your skin. “That’s why I can never get enough of you, my princess.”

“Is that why I have a mating scar and a ring?” you teased, sliding up to drag the pads of your fingers over his shaft, the contact easily stirring it back to life, hardening under your knowledgeable touch.

“You have both because you said yes,” Hongjoong countered with a moan as his arousal spiked again, biting at your pulse as your fingers caressed over his length. “You have them because I love you and my soul is yours. The sex is just a bonus.” You can’t help but laugh, adjusting so you can ease his semi-hard (and getting harder) length into your folds, both of you moaning as you became one. The moment he bottomed out, Hongjoong was pulling you into a deep kiss, hands on your hips as he devoured your mouth before dipping his head to swipe his tongue through the sticky mess still coating your breasts. “I could go so many rounds and not need a break. You feel and sound so good.”

“We still need sleep, my beloved demon.” you breathed, tilting your head to kiss at his neck. “We have a flight in the morning.”

“Then let’s make sure your ride lasts.” Hongjoong smirks as he looks at you, leaning to to swipe another bit of his own release from your chest. “Because I am so far from done with you.”

“All this from some lace lingerie? Maybe I should buy more.”

“You started this, my precious girl.”

You make a point to lift your hips and drop without warning, smirking as Hongjoong almost screams out a moan. “Don’t get it twisted, Hongjoong. You started this when you decided to flaunt around in a full cowboy outfit like I wasn’t going to devoid you over it.” 

He responds by picking his hat up from the bed where it had fallen, placing it on your head with a smirk. “I’ll wear it anytime you want me to, gorgeous.”

“What if I just want you in the hat, hmm?” you ask, laughing out a moan as he begins to guide you on him, the two of you falling into a rhythm as he watches you. 

“I’m your cowboy, remember?”

“Yeah? Let me save a few horses, huh?”

Hongjoong smirks, fangs showing as he tugs you against him into a kiss, which allows him to change the angle of his hips as he picks up the pace to hear you moan more. “You can ride me anytime, Y/N. Day or night.”

[baronessvonglitter]

The Haunting of David York

Dave York x ghost!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: It's a typical Halloween night for Dave. The last thing he expects is for you to come back and get your revenge.

(Spoilers below the cut, so resume with caution)

WARNINGS: Rated M; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; mentions of wet work, murder, brief gore, threats of violence towards family, major character death (don't hit me)

Author's Note: this fic is for @mermaidgirl30 Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge 👻 thank you for hosting this lovely fic challenge!

The idea for this started out as a random discussion about why we're afraid of ghosts if they can't really hurt anyone.. then I wanted to add our favorite suburban murder daddy to a ghost story and got some inspo from watching old school stuff like Creepshow and early seasons of AHS. (I haven't written horror in a very long time, so gimme a little break)

Shoutout to @yorksgirl for the Dave chit chats-- there will be a sweatpants scene in another fic, promise!

"Dave, not again!" Carol whines from the front steps.

"What?" he asks innocently, hefting the human-sized 'body bag' consisting of garbage bags stuffed with leaves and tied up with duct tape to fashion a corpse decoration in the yard for Halloween. Dave has been working on them all day. He's now up to seventeen.

"The HOA is going to complain," his wife shakes her head. "We got away with a warning last year. This time they'll definitely fine us."

"It's worth it to see the looks on everyone's faces," he insists. "Besides, I'll have them picked up and out of sight by the end of the night. I promise."

Dave doesn't love Halloween, but neither does he mind it. People dressing up to be anything other than themselves for one night only? Try doing that 24/7.

He doesn't get to parade around the Mr. Hyde aspect of his life. He doesn't get to knock on doors while in tactical gear, sniper rifle resting in one arm while he sticks an orange jack-o-lantern bucket out to get a handful of tooth-rotting sweets. He doesn't get to wake up on November first and pretend it was all for fun.

It's a silly holiday, but he likes scaring the shit out of the neighbors with the decorations. And his kids love planning their costumes months in advance. Alice is going as a zombie cheerleader (he never understands where these ideas come from) and Molly is some type of Pokemon Dave thinks is a squirrel but she insists is something called an Evoo or Evie or something completely asinine.

Carol usually insists on taking them out trick-or-treating, dressing up herself in a last-minute Minnie Mouse getup, a red sweater and black leggings, and a headband with sequined mouse ears to complete the look.

"You'll be okay here by yourself?" she asks, putting the finishing touches on her mouse whiskers and nose with liquid eye liner in the hall mirror as the girls wait impatiently to leave.

She asks that every year, as if something bad will happen on his watch, as if he can't hack it alone for a couple of hours.

"Unless Michael Myers or Pennywise show up, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine," he says, giving the girls a quick kiss before they go.

"What's Pennywise?" Alice asks as Carol herds them out the door, and she shoots her husband an annoyed glance.

There aren't as many trick-or-treaters this year, and Dave regrets that he'd bought so much candy. He dips his hand into the large tub of mini chocolate bars and fruit-flavored chews that stick to one's teeth and selects some Nerds, eating them straight from the tiny box. With barely concealed disgust he finds the candy corn, plucking the small packets of the hated sweets out from the bowl. He doesn't know how anyone can eat these. These can go to the next kids who ring the doorbell. When the next round of costumed kids come around he gives out huge handfuls. The less sweets they have in the house, the less sugar-fueled meltdowns he's likely to experience from his kiddos.

When there's more of a lull he relaxes on the sofa, mindlessly unwrapping a chocolate bar as the Halloween song hums from the TV, The Nightmare Before Christmas playing where the girls had left it on:

Boys and girls of every age wouldn't you like to see something strange? come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween

He finds his glass of Macallan pairs nicely with a mini Hershey's Special Dark chocolate that he knows the little trick-or-treaters won't appreciate. The candy rests on his tongue as he savors the lingering taste of the scotch while the movie keeps playing. He absorbs a little of it, a now thirty-year-old film that came out when he was his kids' age. He watches idly, letting the scotch lull him into a nice semi-rest.

This is Halloween, this is Halloween pumpkins scream in the dead of night this is Halloween, everybody make a scene trick or treat, 'til the neighbors gonna die of fright

Enough of the singing. He changes the channel. There's postseason baseball on TV, but his favorite team isn't in the playoffs, and the announcers are annoying. Click. Of course there's a horror marathon on every channel. All the Scream movies, which he can appreciate for their ingenuity, Psycho, Shaun of the Dead, the entire Friday the 13th franchise even though it's Thursday, the 31st.

He flips channels, mindlessly, watching tidbits of each, digging into the leftover candy once again when he hears a thud.

With feline alertness he mutes the TV and sits up straight in one swift move. He zones in on where the sound came from, waiting, his racing heart the most audible sound in his ears.

Most people listen for a sound and relax when they don't hear it again, chalking it up to the house settling, or a rodent in the attic. But Dave knows better. He's been on the opposite side of this type of situation countless times. He doesn't relax and just chalk it up to mundane things like other people, because he knows there are guys like him out there-- becoming one with the shadows, as silent as possible--

It's coming from the back door.

In stealth mode, he grabs his gun from the safe in his study and quickly, skillfully, loads it. Adrenaline sings in his veins, carries him towards the danger. He flips on the light switch for the patio and the lights glare into the dark, lighting up nothing. His gun is still in his hand as he slowly opens the door, listening for footsteps.

Quiet.

A little disappointed that he's gotten riled up for no reason, he sighs as the rush of adrenaline dissipates and leaves him weak for a brief moment.

He keeps the gun in the holster at his side as he returns to the sofa, a little more on edge. It could be just teenage assholes playing pranks out of boredom, but he doesn't want to risk it.

He shuts the TV off and the silence becomes the largest thing in the room, even louder than his thoughts. He's taut as wire, not allowing himself to relax just yet. He's listening for more sounds. Most are explainable: a slow drip in the kitchen sink that Carol told him about just yesterday, the notification pings on his daughter's tablet that she left on the dining room table.

"Fuck!" he curses in surprise as the TV turns on, The Nightmare Before Christmas still playing where it left off:

I am the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under your stairs fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair

Dave quickly snaps the TV off, removing the batteries from the remote.

It's just some electrical glitch he tells himself. And then the power goes out completely.

"Shit," he mutters, using his phone to light the way to locate the real flashlight. It's not in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink where it's supposed to be left. Carol must have moved it. He checks the garage. Through the windows he can see the neighbors still have power, so he grabs the trusty flashlight and checks the breaker box. After fiddling with it, it won't reset. The flips do absolutely nothing.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking out his phone from his pocket. The battery shows 1% before fizzling out to a black screen with the gray spinning wheel before dying.

"You've got to be shitting me," he grumbles. With another curse, he shoves the useless thing back in his pocket, letting the flashlight guide him out of the garage. He may as well get the keys and go try to find Carol and the girls, who are probably several blocks over by now, maybe get them to stay at her mother's place while he gets things sorted out with the power issue.

And then..

he hears the sound of his name spoken, a sharp. accusatory whisper, as if it's right next to him. It's so real he can feel the cold breath against his ear. It makes him jump out of his skin.

Alert, his body tense and ready for action, his eyes dart around the room as he begins to get his bearings back and his heart goes back to its normal rhythm.

Stupid.. he curses himself, sitting upright again. Annoyance colors his face.

But the sound of it.. of your voice still rings in his ear. And he'd know your voice among a thousand others.

Now he knows he's imagining things, because it couldn't have been your voice at all.

You're dead.

He doesn't want to think about that day, a cold autumn day just like this. In fact it'll be one year exactly on November 14th. The last day you saw sunlight, the last day you ever breathed.

It's not that you were bad, you were just in the way. There was no room for you in Dave's perfect, clock-precision life. He tried to make your end painless, make sure you didn't see it coming.

Some secrets don't stay buried forever..

Nobody knows he assures himself. It's impossible.. He'd even kept it from his teammates, and they knew nearly every damn thing about him.

No, this particular job.. the handling of you, had to be done on his own.

Casting a glance at the backyard patio again, the light from his neighbor's back porch glows eerily, spotlighting the patch of earth Dave had avoided until finally he'd caved and erected a bird bath with a small garden, a surprise for Carol's birthday. His wife never suspected that you were buried there, beneath her gift.

Without thinking, he's already walking outside, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, leading the way to your grave. He never comes out here anymore. The guilt has become too crushing and he's not a man who dwells on guilt. He does what he has to and revisits the issue if problems arise.

You won't arise, though. When he closes his eyes he can still see the bullet hole in your temple, the blank look as the light left your eyes.

Forgive me, he'd thought, unable to speak it aloud as he stuffed your body in a bag and placed you in the dirt on a moonless autumn night.

When he reaches the stone path that leads to your innocent-looking grave marker, he has to process what he sees:

there's a hole in the ground, where some of the rocks and flowers around the bird bath have been upheaved, and in the breeze his flashlight shines on a tattered, empty black body bag. The scent of death greets his nostrils as he pales, trying not to vomit.

He goes back to the house, immediately on the defensive, irrationally expecting to find you there, clothes dirty and hair caked with mud and blood, a specter of his own paranoia and guilt.

It's still shrouded in darkness, the home that is supposed to be his shelter from such dark things as yourself. It's his domain, his castle, and in this trouble, without his family, he feels like less of a king.

"There's no fucking way," he mutters, stomach roiling with fear and suspicion. He opens the patio door and steps inside.

The whole place smells of death, of the grave.

You're in every corner, quiet, waiting, watching. But not impassive.

He feels you everywhere, himself made small by your ubiquitous pall. The gun in his hand feels useless, and this makes him angry.

You feed off his anger. You love it. It's the only thing you can feel anymore. Pure, unadulterated hate.

You slither towards him, wicked grin growing bigger as you approach him. Dave gets the chills down his back, not knowing just how close you are to him.

"Boo" you whisper lightly, ghostly breath caressing the shell of his ear.

Your cackling thunders in his ears as he whips around, eyes wide with fright. You delight in the fear he's giving off. The scent of it it so intoxicating. It's the only good thing about being dead.

"I should make your death as nice and quick and clean as you made mine" your voice echoes all around the room. Dave looks equal parts pissed and afraid as he tries to track you.

"But I won't."

You've been waiting for this night, this one unholy night where you'd be allowed to come back, to gather the unearthly powers granted to you. Halloween: the one night of the year when the living come back to haunt the dead.

And the son of a bitch had the gall to kill you in November. You had to wait almost a whole year for your revenge.

Gonna make it sweet.

It takes a lot of energy to assume something of a human form, but as you grab onto the fear he's giving off, as you use the most ancient of forces to pull your corporeal parts together, it gets easier. You don't feel afraid. You haven't, not since he killed you.

"Consider yourself lucky it's only you I'm after. If I had my way your family's blood would be splattered on these walls along with yours."

Dave shivers violently. "Please, don't!" He's not used to begging or pleading. He's actually on his knees. He tries not to look at you; your visage is too grotesque. Your flesh is falling off your face and your eyes are sunken into your head, giving a ghoulish appearance.

You force his gaze upon you with the ice-cold touch of your hand. "Your family is safe. For now. Hell, there's always next Halloween."

With the cracking open of his ribcage and the spilling of his guts you reach into him, finding the fullness of the heart, the organ he uses the least.

All Dave can do is scream and scream and scream.

The next day Carol sits at the dining room table, two detectives with her. Her coffee has grown cold, barely touched. She still bears the remnants of the makeup she'd put on to complete her costume last night. The girls are upstairs. She couldn't bear sending them to school, having them apart from her. Not while Dave is missing.

"He was fine last night. Normal," she adds, shrugging as she dabs at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Because of his position as a government agent, his disappearance is being taken very seriously. Officers are en route, dispatched to start searching the area, especially the nearby woods, which Carol has always feared.

Dave's gun is there, his wallet, phone, and keys also left behind.

One of the field officers comes in (there have been many people coming in and out of the house today) and motions to the backyard. "Halloween decoration?"

"Yeah," Carol sniffles, smiling just a little. "Dave likes to shock the neighbors. He promised he'd put them away before the morning.. but he never puts them out back.."

Out of guilt, or maybe just to give herself something to do, she gets up and goes to put the decorations away. The detectives follow.

Funny. There's just one.. she thinks, looking at the lone body bag on the lawn, tossed haphazardly next to her bird bath.

It's heavier than she expects. She's too petite to pick it up. Sighing, she kneels, the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath her knees. She'll just take the leaves out and throw the bag away.

Ripping it open with her nails she's stunned a moment, not processing what she's seeing before she lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Wrapped up in the duct taped body bag is what's left of Dave.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @salingers @zascal

[di-42]

2024 fic roundup

Finally getting round to doing this! Just in time for the end of the year!

Many, many thanks to @curiouspupsicle and @bellisima-writes for tagging me all those weeks ago, ant to @cheeseplants for creating the questions. Enjoy curious's answers here, bellisima's answers here, cheeseplants's answers here.

What fandoms do you write in?

Good Omens, only Good Omens, nothing but Good Omens.

How many words have you published in 2024?

133k. Huh! Me?

What is your greatest achievement this year?

In the context of fandom and fanfiction, being brave enough to put myself out there and share my work is probably my greatest personal achievement. But I'm also quite proud to have plotted an 85k fiction while working 55 hours a week (and being lucky enough to have a husband and friends to spend my free time with).

What are your favourite top three fics you wrote this year?

That's an easy one! None of my favourite three are the ones with more engagement, strangely enough!

And I Did, rated E, 85k.

While I know this could have been written much better, I am incredibly proud of this fiction. It's whole season 3 fiction where I managed to pour all my headcanon in a way that hopefully doesn't feel too forced. I think it has an original plot, good side characters and tension. I tried to throw in some humour wherever possible as well. It features Supreme Archangel Aziraphale and Grand Duke of Hell Crowley. They haven't talked for almost two years. The end of the world is approaching. They are on opposite sides. And they both know neither of them was ever going to make a different choice to the one they made.

Only Ever Meant For Someone Else, rated T, 9k.

My first human AU, wheee! It was so much fun to write! I think writing human AUs allows so much freedom, although one shots and shorter stories can be a bit harder than canon compliant short stories. But I had a chance to explore some versions of the characters that I don't really see in canon, but very much enjoy in fictions, and wanted to try my hand at that. And I liked the result! Written for the Scribbling Vaguely Downwards advent calendar.

Every year, the night before Christmas, taxi driver Aziraphale drives passengers to and from the hospital for charity. On the Christmas morning of 2023 he was ready to go home and rest with a cup of tea, a mince pie, and a book after a long night.

Guess who?

“No, you may not!” Barked the other. Then he started pacing up and down the pavement, rambling to himself. “Anathema’s going to kill me. She’s actually going to kill me! She had to go into labour on fucking Christmas day, just my luck!”

Oh, dear.

“In-into labour?”

The stranger stopped pacing and, yet again, looked at Aziraphale sternly. He joined together the tips of his right thumb and forefinger, and punctuated his next words with a gracious movement of his hand.

“Yeah. It means she’s about to give birth.”

“Does it, now.”

Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! rated M, 5k

I really love this little story of mine. I've been told that it made some readers cry and laugh at the same time, and it doesn't get much better than that.

It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage.

A fluffy story about how we get to a certain cottage.

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

Tying up all the loose ends in And I Did. Sometimes it felt like I was just hitting a wall and I couldn't possibly ever go through. I felt so embarrassed -mortified, really- that some people had read the story up to a certain point and I had just to let them down, because I couldn't possibly write anything that would make sense with the rest of the story. Even though the main points were planned from the beginning, there were still all those little details that write themselves, basically, and I had no idea what to do with some of them towards the end. I still don't know how I managed to pull it off, honestly, but somehow I did it in a way that I found satisfying enough.

What have you learned?

That people are so much better than I am. Really. And I don't mean at writing fiction. Well, people are better than me at writing fiction, but that's not what I mean here. The amount of people who are ready to read about someone else's ideas and headcanons with an open mind, enjoy stories that they don't necessarily agree with, is astounding. I have very much to learn from this community.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I could tell you. But then I would have to erase your memory.

A fiction that has never made it off the ground is a fiction that has yet to make it off the ground.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I was asked a couple of times, but due partly to my lack of time, partly to English not being my first language, I had to reluctantly decline. I do offer my thoughts on my betas' fictions, though. One of them hasn't published her work yet, and the other has a fantastic one shot on Ao3, called The Corset.

Aziraphale never understood just why he had been issued with a body likes his. He was the Guardian of the Eastgate, after all! So when in the 17th century corsets for men were fashionable again, he had an idea ...

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

Hah! We both know it's not going to be only three, don't we?

Some of these fics were written before, some long before, 2024, but I only read them this year. It's quite hard to pick my favourites among so much talent and creativity, but I'll do my best. I also can't help but notice that my all time favourites are not among the superpopular ones, so please don't be shy and check them out! (And leave kudos and comments!)

The Beginning Of The End (Again), rated M, 78k.

Season 3 fiction full of plot, great characterisation, humour and pining. It has of course a happy ending. It is beyond me how this fic didn't get more engagement, especially when it first came out, closer to the end of season 2.

The Anon Before Christmas, rated E, 66k.

One of my favourite human AUs. The characterisation is spot on and the slow burn is just absolutely perfect. But I did love the whole array of characters surrounding Crowley and Aziraphale. I love how this story is as much about friendship and chosen family than it is about love and romance.

The Bookseller And The Garden, rated T, 13k.

Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.

Wrong Turn, rated T, 37k.

Honestly, I don't know why this fiction touched me so much. I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days after I finished it. It's a post season 1 fiction where Crowley suddenly finds himself in a parallel universe at the time the apocalypse is just about to happen. The Crowley and Aziraphale in that universe have a different history to our Crowley and Aziraphale. All our Crowley wants to do is to go back to his universe and his very own angel, but how? As you follow the main plot and focus on Crowley's thoughts and actions, you'll start slowly feeling the other story get hold of you, and it won't let go until the very end and beyond.

Happiness, More Or Less, rated M, 21k

This human AU moved me so very much I cried. Crowley moves into his new flat in Soho, only to discover the flat in haunted by the ghost of the owner of the bookshop downstairs. I won't tell anything else about the plot other than it does have a very sweet happy ending, and it gets there via a rollercoaster of emotions. This is really one of those fictions that leave me in awe of the fandom's talent and creativity. Read it, read it, read it!

One last one that I haven't finished reading yet, but I know it's one of my all time favourites, is The Last Angel, rated E, 162k.

Canon divergent fiction where Crowley and Aziraphale were never assigned to earth, Armageddon happened and hell won the war. I've said many things about this fiction, among which that I can't believe the writer does this in her spare time and writing is not actually her job, and this is the most Good Omens-y fic I have ever read. It's astoundingly good.

What ideas are percolating for next year?

Watch out for The Angel Horror Show! When I learned that Peter Hinwood, the actor who played Rocky in The Rocky Horror Picture Show didn't have a long career as an actor, bout instead went on to become an antiques dealer, I knew I had to write this fiction with Aziraphale as the actor who many years ago played Angel/Rocky in The Angel Horror Show and subsequent film The Angel Horror Picture Show and is now living a comfortable life as a book and antiques dealer, and Crowley as the actor who played Demon/Frank, and went on to become a successful movie and theatre actor and director. I've just started writing it and I'm extremely excited about it!

Who do you want to thank?

Without the shadow of a doubt @sabine-smitten-obviously and IneffableShortCake who have been so incredibly generous with their time and support in the past 8 months! But also everyone who's ever left me a comment making me feel like my stories were liked, from the long comments to the ones with just enthusiastic syllables, from the incredibly witty ones to the more personal ones, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Tag, answer any Qs that suit and play along!

I think because I'm so late in the game that most of the writers I would usually tag have already been tagged by someone else, but perhaps a few haven't done this yet.

@smua70 @ngk-668 @ineffable-duck7

And anyone who wants to answer!

This was fun!

[aziraphales-library]

Self-promo is actively encouraged, you say...?

In that case, may I present... Credo! My series where I abuse the Catholic Credo as a list of writing prompts. I haven't added anything in a while, but there are a whole ten oneshots in it so far, each between 350 and 6k words long, all canon to each other. And there is more on the horizon, including a multi-chapter post s2 fic...

My favourites from the series so far are:

Invisibilium omnium et invisiblilium: Crowley plans and pulls off a heist with the thug trio from 1967. G-rated, funny, with the most awkward flirting attempts, 5,9k

Exspecto resurrectionem mortuorum: Uh... you'll see what this is when you read it. I was told not to apologise for it anymore. T-rated, the worst thing I have ever written, people inexplicably loved it 3,2k

Crucificus etiam pro nobis: The crucifixion. M-rated for blood and graphic descriptions of a slow and painful death. 1k

Ex Maria Virgine: The Annunciation with GO's Gabriel and a very confused virgin Mary. T-rated, 1,6k

Descendit de coelis: The real reason why the Serpent crawls on its belly and eats dust, featuring snake Crawly. G-rated, 2k

A full list of all my fics is in my pinned post.

Thank you so much for your awesome work :)

Thank you for sharing you work!

- Mod D

[hexgaywire]

LUXIEM Bedtime Routine

Writing type: Headcanons

Rating: SFW

Total Word count: 1036≈(before edits)

Other notes: Implied some sort of established relationship with the reader (you can interpret as platonic or romantic, it's up to you)

Featured?: Ike, Myta, Vox, Luca, and Shu

Author comment: HA! with a blog name like mine you'd expect a XSOLEI headcanons first but gotta keep them guessing ig.... Please enjoy;; my headcanons are a stream of my consciousness if anything; I haven't written anything publicly in like a year ahaha (killme)

Disclaimer and Reminder; this is based on the characters made by NIJISANJI, not the people behind the character voicing them. If in the future the person expresses or states that fics of this nature makes them uncomfortable I will 100% remove this or anything I write about the characters involved.

Bedtime routine:

Always has a cup of sleepy time tea before bed

Will force you to drink one too (because you both have no sleep schedule <3)

For nights where you both go to sleep on time, skin care routine

Hear me out.... I'm talking face masks, creams the full sends baby

Once all of that is taken care of y'all will eventually change into whatever you sleep in (Oliver-sensei outted Ike the other day for sleeping in only boxers lmfao but that's not relevant)

He will spend at least an hour reading in bed before falling asleep, be prepared with a sleeping eye mask maybe?

Or start a night time books club with him because he will not change this

He is a novelist after all

Once he's done reading and the glasses come off, one of two things will happen

He will fall asleep immediately

Or you guys will be up for the majority of the night talking about deep stuff

You know those sleepovers you have with your homies where it gets deep, that's what I mean

Regardless what time you pass out you are sure to sleep safe next to Ike!

Extras:

Ike doesn't strike me as a guy who likes to cuddle in bed, if anything you accidently snuggle up to him he'll shuffle away from you

He sometimes will fall asleep at his desk which is a habit he only started since streaming, back when he was novelist he didn't have this problem for some reason

Ike sleeps with like one blanket? I hope you like the cold &lt;3

Bedtime routine:

I feel like Mysta's bedtime routine is a wildcard, you never know what he's gunna be doing to eventually end up in bed

You brush your teeth and he goes "OoOOoh I knew I was forgetting to do something."

Sleeping feels more like a chore to him then a necessity

You'll catch this man up at 3 am playing Minecraft and he'll still be like "Oh shit, is it bedtime?"

He's a piece of work to even get him to start to migrate towards the bedroom

Once he finally changes and lays down; he's kind of like Ike, where he'll immediately pass out or will spend hours talking to you

However the conversations are more like "Why is cheddar cheese orange do you think?"

GOOGLE IT IDK I'M TIRED

Once he finally falls asleep he 100% mumbles in his sleep, you find it endearing as you slip on a pair of headphones or earplug's

Extras:

Opposed to Ike; you will wake up either cuddling or being cuddled by Mysta

Despite the struggle to get this man into bed, he sleeps better next to someone

Known to occasionally sleep walk

You found him in the bathtub one time it was kinda scary

He firmly denies this ever happened

Bedtime Routine:

Vox is very ritualist when it comes to bedtime

He's also a very sleepy demon and enjoys maximizing his sleep to its full extent

So with him it's very "no nonsense"

He takes a shower

Blow-dries and cares for his hair

He brushes his teeth (While still in a towel)

Again h e a r m e o u t....

He's a voice demon that came back to life, he has a skincare routine for bedtime (Still in a towel btw)

All luxury products of course

After that he change into something comfy

For some reason after all of that this man sleeps in mismatched socks like a sociopathy

Once y'all lay down he'll watch some stupid memes on his phone of a bit or do some light reading

There is no in between

Once he's done however he is out like a light, usually within an arms reach of you

Extras:

Similarly to Mysta, you will wake up in his arms

It's funny because he insists it's entirely your doing

On the rare occasions where he can't sleep he'll get up and cook something

He says it helps him relax

The delicious aroma however wakes you up and the two of you share a lovely midnight snack

Bedtime Routine:

Luca tends to stay up really late

This is partial because of old work habits (if no ones awake to see you get rid of a body then it isn't a problem)

Luca like Vox though has bit of a ritualist bedtime getting ready routine though

Shower

Brush teeth

Change

Without fall no matter how late into the night (morning) it is

Once in bed, he crashes

The man is out like a light

I think because his bedroom is definitely his own space he feels at ease and can just doze off

It does help that he has a very nice bed I guess too

Once again you know you can sleep safe next to Luca, he wouldn't let anything disturb you

Extras:

Like Mysta, Luca does occasionally talks in his sleep, but not nearly as loud as Mysta does

He doesn't strike me as the cuddling type either, i think if you tired it wake him up

Despite being able to sleep easily he also wakes up super easily

Again probably due to his pat

Fear not though, once Luca let's his gaurd down again he passses out pretty quickly again

Bedtime routine:

Shu, like Ike, has a big cup of tea before bed

He swears up and down that drinking something warm before bed gets you to sleep faster

He's also diligent with his night time hygiene needs

Once again; for the final time, I'm asking you to hear me out

Skin

Care

Routine

You cannot sit here and tell Mr. Shu Sorcerer Yamino (eyyyyyyyyy) doesn't take good care of his skin

Off track but anyway

Kind of like Luca, once he's in bed he is out

I also feel like Shu snores but like not loud? It's kinda like white noise (like listening to ocean??)

Sleep well sweet sorcerer

Extras:

Shu is also not a cuddler, he's more the type to like accidently fall out of bed if you snuggle up to him

He doesn't like feeling the extra body heat on him while he sleeps

Off topic again but he also has a strict morning routine which consists of him getting up early

He's be trying to get you on board but like sleep ya know?

(My request are open plz send me some)

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

can we stay here forever?

pairing: unspecified Pedro Pascal character (pick your favorite) x fem!reader (no name or physical description other than reader has boobs, have fun babes)

rating: M (just to be safe)

word count: 663

warnings: none? i think? just two people disgustingly in love (but lmk if i missed any and i'll add it here!!!)

a/n: this is my submission for @iamasaddie's moodboard writing challenege! i haven't written any fanfic since 2019 and i'd mostly decided to just give it up entirely but moodboards are my weakness and i just had to jump in. this is my first for the PPCU sooo please be nice, i'm a lil rusty (also 100% not proofed) 😅

It wasn’t until you met him that you realized just how…dull your life was.

Maybe dull isn’t the right word. There’s nothing wrong with predictability, stability, routine. You liked knowing what to expect day in and day out. Sure, sometimes you’d feel a need for more, this crack in your domestic facade. But something or someone would always come along to fill it, even if only for a moment. You were content.

But now? Watching the way his bare chest rises and falls. His mess of curls splayed out on the pillow beside you. The late morning sun spilling through sheer white curtains to highlight the curves of his arms, his nose, the tiny patches of skin peeking through his beard that you so love to press your lips to any chance you get.

Dull is replaced by familiar. Warm.

Home.

Days like this are a rare luxury and deeply treasured whenever they come along. Phones off, no need for alarms or scam phone calls about your car’s extended warranty. Only waking when your bodies physically can’t withstand the unconsciousness separating you any longer. The warmth of his arms around you contrasting with the chill in the room, sending static up and down your spine.

When you do finally rise from the tangled web of sheets binding the two of you together, there’s no rush. It’s a comfortable silence filled with jeans zipping, shoelaces tapping the floorboards, car keys jingling as he opens the passenger door for you.

He’s just as mesmerized as you. The way your eyes glow when the sun flashes across at just the right angle. The wind from the open window teasing your hair. Your laugh ringing out over the noise of the dirt road to nowhere. He turns off the truck in the shade of a tree and helps you out, never letting go of your hand as he guides you away. Thick fingers encompassing thin.

You finally find the perfect spot to rest and watch the sun disappear below the tree line and assume your positions from that morning. His bicep shielding your head from the hard ground, you just lay there on the grass discussing anything and everything that floats into your minds. Eventually, you notice he’s been quiet for a while. You peek over to see his eyes shut, lips slightly parted and drinking in slow, deep breaths.

“Is it your bedtime already?” you tease. He breaks out his signature boyish smile and chuckles from deep in his chest. Laughing along, you gently dip the tip of your finger into the dimple that appears on his left cheek before tracing up to the creases by his eyes. He turns into your touch, catching your hand and bringing it down to his lips, the soft hair accenting them tickling your palm. He gently rolls over you, gazing up in awe at his backlit silhouette and your knees drift open to allow him room to settle, blanketing you with his full weight. His focus is locked on you as his fingers caress your hip where your shirt has exposed the skin.

Your eyes drift shut as he kisses his way up your torso, your top riding up further and further as he progresses. He earns a hearty belly laugh when instead of pushing the soft cotton up above your breasts, he simply dives his head under it, nipping at your delicate skin and trailing his tongue down the valley between before ghosting his lips over your collarbone, your neck, your ear. Restrained by the fabric bunched around the back of his neck and your shoulders, unable to pull away, you finally pull him down to you. His arms wedge under you, pulling you flush to his chest. Together, you drown in each other’s touch, sound, taste, smell, willing time to just stop so you can stay here forever.

Most people call it “wasting the day away” except you, because time spent with him is never a waste.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Kendall Roy angst or fluff with scenario m (keeping the relationship a secret) please

Illicit Affair.

m. Keeping the relationship a secret

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my baby kendall - all i want for him is a happy ending :( sorry lukas, but kennys my boy <3

Pairing - Kendall Roy x Matsson!Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing, cheating

Word Count - 650

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

You're practically vibrating with anticipation.

The Roys are coming to the annual retreat in Norway to attempt to finalise the GoJo deal with your husband, Lukas.

In approximately 20 minutes, you're going to be face to face with Kendall Logan Roy.

The love of your life.

Admittedly, having an affair with one of your husbands business rivals wasn't on your to-do list. However, the first time you met Kendall, you knew it was inevitable.

You are irreversibly, undeniably, completely illicitly in love with a man who's not your husband.

It's been surprisingly easy to sneak around. Bathrooms, back rooms, offices with the blinds closed. Fleeting touches, momentary eye contact, silent communication. Every time Kendall looks at you, he lights your nerve endings on fire.

You both know it's doomed to fail. You'll have to end it privately, or you'll get caught and have to end it publicly. It doesn't stop you, though.

The Roys arrive, and you all go about formal greetings and passive aggressive hellos. The entire time, Kendall's eyes are locked on you, completely unflinching. Your husband is too preoccupied to notice the man looking at his wife like she hung the stars in the sky.

Kendall nods his head subtly, signalling in the direction of the bedrooms. You tap your watch, giving him a signal - wait for me. He grabs his bags and goes to unpack, while you mill around, waiting for your chance to leave.

Finally, the small talk dies down, and you find your opportunity.

"I'm going to go and catch up with a few of their team," you tell Lukas. "Haven't seen them in a while."

He knows you're fairly friendly with people like Jess, as you've seen her often. He doesn't question it, just presses a kiss to your cheek distractedly, walking off to talk to Gerri and Frank.

You slink down the hallways, practically running to Kendall's door. You barely knock once before it swings open, strong arms pulling you inside.

Kendall cradles your face in his hands, and looks at you carefully.

"Hi," he whispers, breaking out into a grin.

"Hi, yourself," you whisper back, smiling like a madwoman.

He pulls you into his arms, his warmth seeping into your skin. He smells like musk and fresh soap and that cologne you gifted him for his birthday last year.

"Missed you," you murmur into his chest, tightening your grip.

"I missed you," he replies into your hair. "So fucking much."

"Don't leave it so long next time," you beg. "I'm going insane here without you."

"I'm sorry, honey" he mutters, pulling back to look at you. "Everything's been fucking crazy."

You throw your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

"I'm sorry about your dad, Ken," you say against his mouth. "He was the fucking worst, but he was still your father."

"Finally," he chuckles. "Someone who gets it."

He kisses you harder this time, one hand tangling in your hair. The other caresses your cheek, thumb stroking soothing circles.

"Promise me something."

"Anything, sweetheart. Anything."

"Whatever happens with this shit - promise me it won't affect us. I'm not losing you over a fucking business deal, Ken," you plead.

He smiles gently - a rare and beautiful sight.

"You are the only thing in this entire world that I am sure of," he reassures. "I don't give a fuck about this deal, or your husband. I care about you. Just you."

You kiss him in reply, lost in the way you fit together so perfectly. You're like two pieces of the same puzzle, twin flames that have finally found each other.

"I swear, when this is over, I'm moving you to New York. It'll be me and you against the world."

You must look unsure, because he continues.

"Fuck the rest of them."

"Fuck the rest of them," you grin. "Me and you against the world, Kendall Roy."

[abarbaricyalp]

Written for @sambuckylibrary Valentines Bingo. Free space fill (most of mine are gonna be free spaces) I guess it technically fills the Sam-Searching-For-Bucky fill too but not in spirit, so it doesn't count

Rated T/M, No Archive Warnings

Read on AO3 here

Bid Your Heart Goodbye

"You know why they put us up first, right?" Barton asked under his breath next to Sam.

Sam's gaze slid to him with only mild interest.  "Because we're the people's princesses?"

They were standing in the wings of a fancy stage with velvet curtains that smelled like they hadn't been cleaned since they were installed. Beyond the curtains, an audience dressed to the nines wined and dined. That same dinner was waiting for Sam if this charity auction would ever get underway.

No matter what Barton said about the order of the night, Sam wouldn't be made to feel less than grateful that he'd be sitting down and digging into an expensive steak in less than half an hour. Hopefully. Steve, the poor sod, was the last bid of the night.

Buy A Date With An Avenger had been a fundraiser since before Sam was involved with them at all. This was the first year he was participating in it. If he'd been asked the year before, he'd have been more than excited to join, take a break from the Ghost Hunt and relax in a fancy hotel for while. This year, he had other things he wanted to be doing with his time. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the Ghost Hunt was over and the ghost was accounted for, but Sam still felt like of he took his eyes off of him, he'd disappear into the night again. Perhaps it didn't. Who was to say.

"They're hoping people will bid high on us because they haven't spent big money on Steve or Tony yet," Clint said with some kind of sardonic glee. "Of someone spends million dollars to meet Steve, they're not gonna fork over anything else for us."

Sam rolled his eyes and elbowed Clint's arm. "Speak for yourself. I bet I hit 50k before the fifth vote."

The sardonicism melted away and Clint's eyes lit up. "I bet I make more than you," he countered.

"What're you gonna do? Strip?" Sam joked. Then he added, "Has Steve really gotten a million dollars before?"

"Couple of years ago," Clint confirmed. "Right after the whole thing in DC with you. That year. Super fan. They wanted the inside scoop on all of that for a book they were making someone ghostwrite."

Sam snorted. That sounded about right. There had been smaller opportunities for people to donate and win time with the heroes throughout the night. Steve was certainly a favorite. It might've dinged Sam’s ego a bit if he couldn't see how miserable Steve was with all of the attention.

Sam didn't mind this kind of thing. The VA held fundraisers all the time. He was used to the pleasant smiles and benign interest and the insufferable drone of rich people with money they needed. Actually, Sam was pretty good at it. Hell, he almost liked it, in a detached, out-of-body sort of way. He liked to be useful and he liked to be charming and gracious.

"Young man, you could've been a prince in another lifetime," an old woman had said to him once, patting his hand because she hadn't let go of it for five minutes.

"Only if you'd be my princess," he'd charmed back and gotten an extra donation towards their meeting spaces renovation for his time.

Tonight wasn't much different, though pocket books seemed to be a little fatter and held a little tighter. There were no promises made for nothing. Everything was about the spectacle of the bidding, the silent auction of memorabilia, the game of being allowed to tease time and attention from someone as important as an Avenger.

The proceeds weren't for the Avengers. They were all going towards charities around the nation. Each hero had picked one. Sam's was a housing program in Louisiana, to help people displaced after storms, year after year. 

"How much did your date go for last year?" Sam asked.

"About 20k," Clint said. "But I wasn't the worst of the night. A science lab got Bruce's date, but they didn't have to be very competitive about it."

Sam sucked in a breath through his teeth. "That's dirty, man."

"Hey, it worked out for them. He went to their lab, helped them through some results that weren't adding up, and they won some ridiculously prestigious award a month or so ago. Yet another paper with Dr. Bruce Banner's name on it too."

Sam had to give them that. That was a much better use of Bruce’s time than having dinner with someone who bought affection, someone who couldn’t be bothered to help people unless they got something in return.

This night could not be over quickly enough.

Sam was up first, as the newest member of the Avengers. He’d rewatched the livestream from last year to prepare himself, but there was still nothing like hearing his name echo throughout the room as the chatter of the evening lowered to a polite gust of whispers. The MC read off a list of Sam’s accomplishments as he walked on stage and gave a few easy-going smiles and waves. He listened as the MC explained what his charity was and how the money may be used.

And then the bidding began. It was a little slow going. It started at five thousand dollars, like all the dates would tonight. Someone upped it to seven, and then ten. A bright blue placard caught the corner of Sam’s eye. Everyone else had classy black and gold placards. This one was meant to stand out. It caught the MC’s eye too, apparently, because he gave a hearty chuckle and gestured to the man with the bright blue placard, sitting at a table with other event organizers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I neglected to mention that this year we are hosting the bidding online as well. We’ll entertain bids in real time from our website. What was the bid?” he asked the stand-in bidder.

“Fifty thousand, sir,” the man said. “From an anonymous bidder.”

A literal gasp went through the audience. Which, hey, a date with him was totally worth 50k, Sam thought. A little deliriously maybe. Fifty thousand dollars? From ten? Sam was absolutely not about to pass out on the stage. He just needed a lectern to hold onto for a few seconds.

The MC whistled appreciatively. “That is quite the statement. Does anyone want to say 55?”

The woman who’d been the first to bid raised her placard again.

“Great. 60?”

The blue placard went up again. “Sir, the same bidder has said 100,000.”

Someone was fucking with Sam. He turned to glare at Barton, because this was surely his doing. He’d just been telling Sam about how only Steve and Tony made any real money and him and Sam were just chum to get the sharks going. And somehow he had someone fuck up the online bidding site to do this.

But Barton looked just as confused as Sam was, and about fifteen times as gleeful.

The MC didn’t falter. He was a damn professional. Sam needed to send him a fruit basket or something. Sure, Steve and Tony’s dates went for more than half a million each last year. $100,000 was nothing compared to the rest of the night. But Sam wasn’t sure even he could’ve kept a straight face while talking about his company being worth more than a substantial downpayment on a house. But the MC just grinned at the audience and said, “Anyone willing to go for 110? $110,000 would change a lot of lives. Build a lot of houses, folks.”

Unbelievably, a whole new placard went up. Sam wondered if this was just someone trying to goad the online bidder into doing something even more outrageous.

Which they did. Before the MC could even decide on another number to challenge 110,000 damn dollars, the blue placard went up.

“175,” he said.

Sam blinked at him, feeling like a deer in the headlights while someone explained linear algebra to it. What the fuck was happening? Actually, was he in danger? Should he even meet someone willing to spend $175,000 just to have dinner with him? Was he going to end up tied up in a basement somewhere?

“Folks, I don’t know if anyone is going to be able to outlast our anonymous bidder. Do I hear 180? 180 on the room? How about 177? 176? 175-5? If not, Sam Wilson’s date has just been bought for $175,000. To our high bidder, you’ve helped a beautiful cause. Planning emails will be sent to the address on your bid form, so please keep an eye out for those. And now, please welcome Hawkeye himself, Clint Barton!”

Sam was only able to get himself off of the stage because he had Clint’s path to follow. Clint beamed at him, knocked the sides of their fists together as he whispered, “Bird bros,” and then waggled his eyebrows like that meant anything.

Backstage, Steve managed to find him before anyone who would need his help coordinating the date. He was cheesing about as hard as Clint was.

“I told you you’d be nothing but good for this,” he teased, giving Sam a half hug. “I wonder whose eye you caught so strongly.”

“Hopefully not a Christian Grey,” Sam muttered, which made Steve blush but laugh. Over the years, the number of pop culture references Sam was able to get away with had dwindled to mostly the obscure. Evidently Christian Grey was not obscure.

“Maybe it’s someone who wants to know more about the Falcon tech?” he suggested. “Or someone who just knows you’re a really great guy. I’d pay 200k to have lunch with you.”

Sam rolled his eyes and elbowed Steve’s ribs lightly. “Lucky for you, you get me for free.”

“Well, sometimes the price of a burger.”

“Only when we go to that fancy place you like.”

“Mr. Wilson?” an event organizer said, interrupting them and looking very apologetic for it. “We’d just like to go over your preferences very quickly before we begin drafting emails. It should only take a few minutes.”

“Of course,” Sam said with a nod. He gestured for her to lead the way and then shot a look at Steve, trying to convey a suave ‘guess this is my life’ kind of energy. Steve’s laughter was not helpful in determining if he hit the mark or not.

. . .

The date was at a rooftop restaurant, near the beach. It was New York, so the hustle and bustle of the city was ever present, but the crash of the waves and the calling of the birds was a nice addition. Sam hadn’t forgotten how much he liked the peace of the beach. No amount of time away from home would ever pull the saltwater out of his bones. But perhaps he underestimated it until he was in the sand and the water again. Assuming his date was not obsessive and willing to follow Sam around, he was definitely going to get down on the beach before heading back to Steve’s for the night.

The restaurant was the kind of place Sam would never go on his own. He couldn’t picture a single reason to be at some place like this. He hadn’t even gone to Stark events like this yet. True, the rooftop part was his idea. ‘Get a bird's eye view with the Falcon.’ It was a stupid gimmick that he’d thrown down on paper at the very beginning of the planning for the auction. But, evidently, his anonymous bidder had been into the idea as well. Sam had expected some slightly upscale bar where young people looked at him like he was decrepit, but the bidder had suggested this place, which was definitely beyond upscale and had very few hip-young-person patrons.

Then again, this person had spent almost $200,000 to even get this date. What was several hundred more for food?

The foundation was paying for Sam’s food, so he was two glasses of a very good red grenache wine into the night when the waiter stopped to let him know his date was checking his coat.

A man? Sam was surprised. Everyone in the room who had bid on Sam’s date had been women. Even the last instigator had been a woman. (She had continued to instigate throughout the night. Sam kind of thought she might’ve been a plant by the foundation to drive up bids.)

He kept his eyes on the entry way onto the roof. In theory, he could’ve peered through the glass windows of the kitchen, but there was far too much going on in there for him to be able to see anything important. Instead, he kept an eye on the archway covered in roses and ivy, where a maitre d’ waited to guide people to their reserved seats–or fuss at her waitstaff.

It did not take long for Sam’s date to arrive. He knew it was him as soon as he came through the roses.

He was wearing a beautiful black on black suit, a black silk tie gleaming in the decorative fire light. His hair was pulled back in a slick, tight ponytail, sitting just a little higher than the nape of his neck so he could still tuck it into his shirt collar. Everything about him was powerful, the long sprawl of his legs, the breadth of his chest and thighs, even the curl of his gloved fingers as he circled one set around his other wrist. His blue eyes were impossibly piercing as they found Sam before the maitre d’ could even gesture over. And then he was smiling, wide and enamored. It made him look so much younger.

Sam scrambled to stand up as he made his way over, having to pause to let the maitre d’ know he could handle it on his own. By the time he did get to their little corner table, Sam still hadn’t convinced himself this wasn’t a dream.

Where have you been? Sam wanted to ask. Why would you spend $175,000 to see me?

“You could have just called,” is what he said in the end.

Bucky Barnes had not stopped smiling. It was really killing the whole mafia boss vibe he otherwise had going for himself. He brought his hands up to Sam’s face and then kissed him in front of every damn one at the restaurant. Sam’s hands went to his wrists, thumbs slipping below his sleeves and under his gloves to rub the inside of his wrists, his pulse point.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting this time with you. Talking to you. Maybe even touching you, even if it was just your hand or kicking your foot under the table,” he admitted under his breath, a confession just for the two of them.

“You spent almost $200,000,” Sam breathed back. “That’s more than a little jealousy.”

“Sam, you’re worth every damn dollar I’ll ever be able to find.”

Sam wanted to tuck himself against Bucky’s chest, hiding his face between his collar and jaw and just breathe in the other man. This addiction had grown faster than he’d thought possible. It hadn’t been long, in the grand scheme of things, since he’d last seen Bucky, but this moment felt like water after a drought anyway.

“I know you woulda made sure you were untraceable, but it's still very hot that you risked getting caught to make the bid,” Sam eventually said, pulling away and then pulling out Bucky’s seat for him.

Bucky gave a silly half bow and sat, waited for Sam to do the same before he said, “Someone else was bidding for me. Don’t look at me like that. I have friends.”

Sam rolled his eyes good naturedly. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried,” he  joked.

“Well, I think the metric is: if I’m this handsome, you should be flattered.” Bucky grinned at him and it took off about two decades worth of suffering.

Sam looked suitably appalled. “Who taught you about pretty privilege and double standards?” he asked.

Bucky laughed again and hooked his ankle against Sam’s under the table. Sam didn’t let himself react visibly, but he did run the toe of his most expensive shoes up the side of Bucky’s other leg.

“I heard the Bluefin here is exquisite,” he said instead of answering.

“We are not ordering Bluefin Tuna,” Sam nixed instantly.

“Okay, okay, what about the salmon?”

Salmon wouldn’t be so bad.

. . .

The date had not included a hotel room. Obviously. Even exploitation of superheroes hadn’t hit that feverpitch yet. However, Bucky had an expensive hotel room and Sam had nothing else to do with the evening. He’d texted Steve earlier that he wasn’t about to be part of a Misery remake, so there was no one on standby waiting for his return.

Even if there had been, he was pretty sure he would have forgotten about them by the time Bucky, a little shyly and endearingly, had suggested Sam come back with him for the night. He was perfectly gentlemanly as he greeted the doorman and bragged on his date a little bit and then led Sam to the elevator. He managed to keep his hands to himself for the upwards climb and the intentionally slow walk down the hallway.

“I hope your friend isn’t sharing a room with you,” Sam said as Bucky fiddled with his keycard, crowding Sam against the door like the sexiest predator cat the world had ever seen.

“Nah,” Bucky agreed, putting his forearm against the door next to Sam’s head as he curled his whole body inwards towards Sam. “She’s not even in the country.”

He unlocked and opened the door before Sam had even seen his hand move, then caught Sam up in his arms before Sam could fall back into the apartment. His feet barely touched the ground as Bucky carried him through the room. The door shut behind them with a soft click. The hotel room was basically bigger than the lower floor of Sam’s place in DC and definitely bigger than his room at the Avengers Compound, which is where he would’ve otherwise ended up tonight.

Surprisingly, the bed was near the window, blinds down but not all the way closed. The city lights twinkled outside and bathed the white sheets in a smear of intangible watercolor. Then, when Bucky dropped him on the bed, those lights painted over Sam too. He only got to stare at them, turning his hand this way and that, for a moment before Bucky was straddling his lap and staring down at him with an open hunger. Sam could do nothing but stretch out beneath him.

Bucky’s long fingers came up to the top of his dress shirt and slowly, carefully, undid the buttons. There was none of the frantic rush that always followed them when they came together. There really wasn’t even anyone who was expecting them in a certain place. Right now, the entire scope of their existence was this room right here.

Sam shivered pleasantly as his shirt fell open. Bucky settled back against his hips, running his hands down Sam’s chest–a contrast of warm and cool fingers.

“You’re so Goddamn beautiful,” he breathed. “It’s like something new every time.”

Sam rolled his eyes to distract himself from the blush racing down his cheeks and neck. “You could take a picture,” he suggested. “Would last longer.”

“Yeah, with my memory, that’s probably true.”

Sam snorted, he couldn’t help himself, and dropped his arm over his eyes. “How do you find the most supremely unsexy things to say while you’re undressing me?”

Bucky shifted over him and a few seconds later, Sam heard the shutter of his phone’s camera. “Goddamn piece of artwork,” he reiterated before throwing his phone aside and refocusing on Sam. He leaned over Sam’s body, resting his weight against Sam pointedly. He mouthed at Sam’s neck, traveling up to his earlobe, sucking it between his lips before he whispered, “I’m gonna take you apart all night long, doll.”

Sam shivered roughly and curled one hand against the back of Bucky’s neck, turning his head to catch Bucky’s mouth on his. “You’ve gotta put on a $200,000 show, Barnes,” he taunted.

Sam felt Bucky tense up for a rebuttal. Technically Sam ought to be putting on the show, he knew. But then he felt it all ease back out of Bucky as he decided to pursue better endeavors. With one last lave of his tongue over Sam’s, he sat back against his hips again, grinding against Sam in a subtle, smooth, teasing move, and began to unbutton his own shirt. Sam took the opportunity to shrug out his own clothes quickly.

He didn’t know who had taught Bucky to strip, but the man could do it like a professional. Sam was pretty sure he’d never been more turned on in his entire life. When Bucky reached for Sam’s zipper–his own pants already undone and hanging loose around his hips in a downright sinful tease, Sam couldn’t wait any longer. He flipped them over, pinning Bucky down to the bed so they could each shove their pants out of the way while Sam fell right back into kissing Bucky like it was the only way he could breathe.

“When you walked out onto the roof, I almost dragged you right back down,” Sam breathed, grinding his thigh between Bucky’s. “You looked so good, it was like a mirage. Like a magazine spread come to life.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, a cocky grin coming to his lips. “The suit do it for you, doll?”

“The suit. Your hair. The fact that it was you. I’d been dreading that date. And as soon as I saw you…”

Sam could practically feel Bucky’s self-satisfaction radiating. “As soon as you saw me, what?” he prompted, wiggling his hips until Sam ground down on him again.

“As soon as I saw you, nothing else really mattered,” Sam admitted with a slow, pleased smile of his own. He felt like he’d been holding his breath all night, waiting for Bucky to disappear out of this daydream. And finally something had slotted into place and he decided this was all real.

“Right now, nothing else matters,” Bucky promised with a kiss, then flipped them over again. “Now, about taking you apart,” he purred before putting his mouth back to Sam’s body.

. . .

“What if I just never let you leave?” Bucky suggested late the next morning. Room service was about to stop serving breakfast, which was a shame because they hadn’t made it all the way through the menu yet. Bucky traced a strawberry around Sam’s mouth, dragging his lip down with it before he replaced the strawberry with his own mouth and then started all over again.

Sam was more interested in the powdered sugar on Bucky’s fingers and lips, but he was being remarkably incapable of getting any of it onto his tongue. He’d have thought Bucky got all of the teasing out of his system the night before, but evidently not. “Eventually someone would come looking for me. I only gave Steve the all-clear for one night. And the world’s probably gonna try’n implode soon, so I’ll definitely be missed then.”

Bucky hummed, dragging the strawberry over Sam’s cheek and across his jaw. “$200,000 is a lot of money. I should get two dates, y’know?”

“You only spent $175,000. And I think I earned it last night, huh?”

“Now that’s a high end date,” Bucky teased. He tossed the strawberry back onto the fruit platter and crowded over Sam’s body again, hiding his face against Sam’s warm neck.

They were getting nowhere fast this morning. At least last night had had a plotline, no matter how often they distracted each other. There was a goal to be reached. Several times. But this morning? They were just lazing around, eating more food than room service should ever send to one room, and getting lost in pointless, teasing touches.

“In another world, this is our life,” Bucky pointed out against Sam’s shoulder. “In another world, I’m just wining and dining you all the time. We live in an expensive penthouse and we just have sex all day.”

“In this scenario, where are you getting all your cash for these nights?” Sam amused.

“I dunno. Trading stock. Investing in the 40s and not touching it,” Bucky said with a shrug that jostled Sam’s entire upper body.

“You didn’t know shit about the stock market in the 40s,” Sam argued. “You don’t know shit about it now.”

He felt Bucky grin against his skin and another monumental shrug shook the bed. “Who cares? It’s a fantasy. You’re the important part of it.”

“I live an expensive life, Barnes,” Sam defended simply.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky agreed, squeezing Sam’s hips until he had to stifle a laugh and shift until Bucky. “I know all about your all-organic fruits and veggies diet. I can handle it.”

“It’s a pretty thought,” Sam conceded when he’d freed his hips and gotten Bucky’s hands away from undiscovered tickle spots. “We could get close. If you came back. If you stayed.”

“I can’t,” Bucky sighed. He turned to lay on his side next to Sam, put a hand over his chest so he could circle Sam’s nipple with his thumb as he spoke. “Not yet. There’s too much to do. It’s better if no one knows where I am yet.”

“I could help. You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

Bucky pressed three kisses to Sam’s cheek and jaw. “You do help. You’ve helped so much, Sam. I used to run right towards precipices. Didn’t care how sturdy the ground was. Now I’ve got an anchor behind me. And a guy with wings who can catch me.”

“I ain’t catching you,” Sam argued quickly. “Do you know how much you weigh?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. They laid there in that quiet for a moment, hearts beating together as their fingers tangled and came apart.

“I will be,” Sam eventually said. “I’ll be your anchor or your wings or whatever you need. You just need to remember that we’re connected. Every anchor has a line. You go down, I’m going down too. And, when you’re ready, you follow that line right back to me. Got it?”

Bucky shifted over him, held his face gently and adoringly. “Sold, doll,” he promised and kissed Sam again.

If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a kudos or comment on AO3

[kiwiana-writes]

Fic Writing Review 2023

Tagged by my fellow stats nerd @stereopticons - thanks pal!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Words and Fics (fics written in 2023 only)

143,107 words published to ao3. At least 3,900 more guaranteed by the advent fic so... I think I should make a concentrated effort to break 150k, right? 👀

No good way of tracking unpublished words in WIPs written this year. My goal for 2024 is to set up my spreadsheet to track words written as well as published so watch this space.

3 published fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue (book), Schitt's Creek, The Last Of Us (TV show). Technically 1 unpublished fandom in Red White & Royal Blue (film) 😅

Most recent drop: Apart from the daily advent fic drops lilnked above, a PWP interlude in the hockey boyfriend Henry 'verse

Longest (published) fic: By a country fuckin' mile, With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), aka the Much Ado actor AU, at 65,586 words.

Longest (published) oneshot: Kinda think that I might be his type (Alex and Bea fake date) at 12,864 words

Top Fics by Kudos (fics written in 2023 only)

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) [RWRB, Alex/Henry, rated E, 65,586 words]

Kinda think that I might be his type [RWRB, Alex & Bea + Alex/Henry, rated E, 12,864 words]

We were supposed to find this [RWRB, Alex/Henry, rated M, 3,384 words]

Puck It [RWRB, Alex/Henry, rated E, 9,739 words]

Feel your hands in my hair and you whisper my name [RWRB, Alex/Henry, rated E, 2,508 words]

Miscellaneous Data From My Unhinged Spreadsheet about 2023 fics

To no one's surprise, highest percentage of private bookmarks goes to Bukkake Breaky Heart.

Out of 24 fics published in 2023, 14 were explicit, 2 were mature, 7 were teen and up, and 1 was general audiences

3 fics didn't have a title sourced from anywhere. 3 were sourced from literature/poetry, 3 were puns, and the remaining 15 were song lyrics, with 3 each from Taylor Swift and Matt Nathanson.

My highest kudos/hits ratio was on Empty your heart of its mortal dream, aka the Fae Prince Henry fic.

My fandom fic events in 2023

Nilch nada zip in terms of, like, fests. I wanted to do Threesgiving but the words wouldn't come, so a sort-of-threesome-sort-of-foursome will probably appear on some random day in fucking February or something lmao. However while they weren't fandom-specific events, I did do:

Kinktober 2023

Advent 2023

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

I have a lot -- a lot a lot a LOT -- of WIPs that will be completed in 2024, so please don't think of this as an exhaustive list, but they are the ones I'm most excited for:

A Practical Arrangement - @clottedcreamfudge has Devised A Punishment if I don't get chapter two out for y'all by Christmas because my usual methods of pushing past my brain bullshit weren't working, so technically this is a 2023 project 🤣 @ships-to-sail and @celeritas2997 have the carrot and CCF has the stick.

Anastasia AU!!! I LOVE this fic and I think it's in the 'meaty one-shot' range buuuuuut we'll see. It might get a little out of control.

Angstapalooza RWRB edition - this is gonna be another long fic, 10-11 chapters, 50k words ish, and I cannot WAIT to make y'all cry sink my teeth into it. My Schitt's Creeks babes know what happens when I deem something 'angstapalooza' lmao.

Hockey Boyfriend Henry part 3, aka the whole reason I started writing the fucking series in the first place lmao

Leverage AU, which I haven't shared anything of yet because it's a post-angstapalooza longfic but I am VERY HYPE FOR.

Rafael Is Surrounded By Disaster Queers, aka the Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead-style Rafael POV... 5+1? Vignettes? set in the Much Ado actor AU verse. Which at this point is just a gift for @inexplicablymine and @cricketnationrise and I wouldn't have it any other way.

STFAU 👀

*infomercial voice* And much, much more!

BUT, 2024 is also for taking original writing seriously. Maybe flash/microfiction on patreon, definitely diving into an original novel. I've thrown in the towel with my contracting agency in the new year and everything. Ack.

Tagging anyone I've tagged above and also @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @myheartalivewrites and anyone who wants to play because I love data.

[zinfindoll]

Swan Song | M. Draconia — 01. bleeding over

[ prologue | index | next chapter ]

Rating: T CW: use of [Y/n], she/her pronouns for reader, swearing

There was no way you or Yuna could go to sleep after that, leading to the two of you going to a 24-hour café that was by your dorms.  Neither of you talked for a moment, and you were content with just sipping your favorite comfort drink as you waited for Yuna to snap out of whatever daze she was in.

It took a few minutes, but finally her eyes snapped to you as she took a sip of hot coffee.  "Just...  What the hell was that?"

"Huh?"

The question caught you off guard, and you waited for Yuna to elaborate.  She didn't keep you waiting.

"Back at the dorm, it was like you knew what was going on with the mirror.  So, what — are you in some kind of cult?  What the hell did I see?"

"I have no clue because you haven't said anything.  So what did you see?"  More importantly — was it that creepy Mickey Mouse that you had once seen, or one of your friends?  You paused, then tacked on: "And no, I was not in a cult."

Yuna exhaled through her nose.  While you could understand that she was shaken up, a tired sort of impatience was welling up in your stomach.  For six years had you tried to look for some proof that Twisted Wonderland had been real.  It's not that you cared about proving to others that it was — you couldn't care less what they thought or believed.  However, as much as you were glad to be in the comfort of your world...  You missed Twisted Wonderland.  You missed your friends, the crazy shenanigans you all got into, and even Grim.  You had written off the possibility of going back years ago...

But what if it was still possible?

"I don't know," Yuna took another long sip from her cup.  "It was some tall, dark, shadowy creature.  I couldn't make out any features, except for red eyes, and horns that curled outwards."  She shuddered.  "It was only there for a second.  When I turned the light on, it was gone, and the mirror was..."

That didn't sound familiar to you.  Red eyes and horns?  It didn't sound like anybody you had known.  Hell, it might not even be from Twisted Wonderland.  If two worlds already existed, what's to say that more alternate universes and worlds didn't exist?  Not that you wanted to entertain that possibility.  You did not have the mental energy to get involved with a third world.  What was next?  Pixar rip-offs instead?  Some messed up Grimm Fairytales universe?

But then, how did that explain the blot?  If the mirror really was leaking blot, that was...

". . . Well, anyways."  Yuna cleared her throat.  "Not to pry into personal stuff, but does this have to do with anything about you disappearing all those years ago?"

Your eyebrows shot up.  "You knew about that?"

"You went through three roommates in one semester, so, yeah, I did some digging.  Just never brought it up because, well, I figured it was traumatic.  Or something."

"Well, thanks, then."  Your tone was dry, and you pondered your next words.  Again, you had no clue how to explain this, and there were no promises that Yuna would even believe you.  The brunette wasn't going to let this go, though.  Sigh.  "Look...  It's absolutely batshit insane.  You wouldn't believe me."

Yuna was unimpressed with your feeble excuse.  "I just saw a demon in our mirror which is now bleeding some kind of black substance.  Try me."

Chewing on your lip, you debated your options.  It would be easy to just lie and brush it off.  It was certainly better than having your dormmate think your crazy or, even worse, file to move rooms and leave you stuck with somebody else.  You had very little evidence of Twisted Wonderland outside of your hidden shoebox — just the few scars that littered your body, and the memories you retained.

At the same time, though...  Wouldn't it be relieving to get this off your chest?  Sure, you had your therapist, but she didn't believe you for a second, no matter how she worded it.  While Yuna believing you was slim, there was still a chance...

And no matter how jaded you had become, you still craved for somebody to understand what all you had been through.

Ugh.  Fuck it.  Yuna's the one that's insisting.

"Alright, alright."  You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms and pursing your lips.  "Not sure where to start, so bare with me..."

Where did you start?  It was certainly too lengthy to start from the very beginning, but perhaps if you just condensed it a little bit it would suffice?

"I guess I'll start with nine years ago..."

══════════════════

Unsurprisingly, it was a lengthy story, even abridged — after all, you spent three years in that world.  You didn't give Yuna a complete play-by-play, but you gave her the rundown.  How you woke up in a coffin, made friends with an egotistical and pyromaniac cat, and proceeded to survive near-death experiences not once, not twice, but nine separate times.  At least.  You didn't tell Yuna about the friends you made, or about the clubs and the more fun experiences, but you told her about blot and overblot, and how it could affect others.

For Yuna's credit, she didn't interrupt you, even as her expression grew more and more incredulous.  By the time you had finished with your "little" rundown, at least an hour and a half had gone by.  You awaited her reaction with crossed arms — judging by her expression, she didn't believe you for a single second.

Honestly, you couldn't blame her.  If the roles were reversed, you would have thought she was delusional as well, but it didn't make the scenario any less frustrating.

Yuna finally shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.  "You have got to be kidding me..."  It came out in a grumble.  "Be for real right now.  Are you fucking with me or something?"

The look you gave her spoke leagues without you needing to open your mouth, and she threw her hands up in the air, on the cusp of disbelief and exasperation.

"Everything you just told me is absolutely insane.  You basically went to some — some Disneyworld-based alternate universe with magic?  And — and — ugh."  She was struggling with getting her thoughts together, and you allowed her a couple of moments, trying to debate on your next move.

Well, I'm already in this deep.

"I have proof.  Back at the dorm.  It's not much, but..."

Yuna scrutinized you for a moment, before relenting.  "Jesus.  Okay."

Your eyebrows raised.  "You're not going to argue anymore???"

"As unbelievable this all is...  I know I saw something in the mirror.  And you saw that stuff dripping from the mirror, too...  I don't fully believe your story, but something is going on."  She took a deep breath, finishing her coffee.  It was her third one.

"Gee.  Thanks."  With a roll of your eyes, you pulled some cash out and left it on the table, enough to cover your drinks and tip.  You'd take her half-hearted belief, even with all the sarcasm you gave your roommate back.  It was baby-steps.

The walk back to your dorm was thankfully quick, shortened by the quick steps you and Yuna took to try and get out of the night time air.  During the middle of your walk, the ground seemed to rumble for a little bit, but it certainly wasn't as bad as the earthquake from earlier, and quite frankly, you and Yuna had bigger problems to deal with right now.  

For better or worse, the mirror looked the same.  You weren't a fan of it leaking blot into your dorm room of all places, but at least nothing was crawling out of it.

You did not voice your worries or thoughts to Yuna.

Checking over it one more time to confirm that the mirror looked okay, you went to grab the shoe box from underneath your bed while Yuna kept a watchful eye on it.

"Hey, does this look like it has more blot...?"

"Probably," you answered absentmindedly as you unlocked your phone.  "Here.  Feel free to go through the photo album."  You shouldn't have anything weird on there, save for some of the memes you stole from your friends back in their world.  Yuna fumbled with the device, and you tensed as she nearly dropped it before she managed to get a grip on it.  Carefully, she started to go through the photo album, and you gauged her expressions.

"No way...  These are all photoshopped, right?" she asked with furrowed eyebrows, although you could tell she hardly believed it herself that they were photoshopped.  Most likely because she had seen your computer graphics skills and, well, they certainly could use work.

"They aren't, but I don't have any other way to prove it," you admitted with a frown.  She seemed to have scrolled over a video; moments later, you heard the obnoxious voice of Ace speak up, yelling for your attention in the video.

Glancing over Yuna's shoulder, you saw how Ace was (poorly) filming it — he had stolen your phone for some reason or another, and had started to harass you, Deuce, Grim, and Jack as you all studied.  It was a short-lived video before Jack had sighed and yanked your phone back, but the short video made your heart ache and yearn for something you knew you would never have again.

You weren't sure what expression was on your face.  You didn't even know you were pulling a face until Yuna called out your name in concern, pursing her lips in thought.  ". . . Look.  I'm sorry," she sighed, scratching the back of her head.  "This is all a lot to swallow.  But whether it's real or not, it's clearly affected you.  I wish...  If all of this is truly real, I hope you can see them again."

The brunette didn't quite seem on board all the way, but she was trying, and you had to give her props for that.

Yuna glanced back over to the mirror, humming.  "You think that could be the key to getting back?"

". . . I don't know," you sighed.  "But honestly, I doubt it's anything good."

"What do we do, then?"

And that was the golden question — what did you guys do?  Throwing it out might do more harm than good, but it's not like you could call the police, either.  You and Yuna exchanged a glance that proved you were both on the same mindset that you didn't have many options right now, and she groaned, throwing her head back.

"This sucks."

And honestly?  You agreed.

══════════════════

The next day, you and Yuna made a bit more of a solid game plan: since the two of you had alternating class schedules, you'd trade off.  Today, she would watch the mirror and keep an eye on it, and you would go to class, and then vice versa.  It was the best option you both had right now while you brainstormed how to deal with this.  Yuna promised to try and do some research via good old Google, but considering you had been trying for years, you weren't too positive she'd get any results.

The first half of your day had been going relatively smooth.  Blotted mirror and your growing anxieties aside, your classes passed by without a hitch, and you were able to swing by the campus store to pick up thick cleaning gloves in case you needed to handle the mirror.  In the mean time, you warned Yuna to not touch the blot at all.

Around 4 in the afternoon during a lecture hall, your phone had started to go off.  Thankfully it was on silent, but you could feel it vibrating insistently in your pocket.  Not wanting to get in trouble, you ignored it — but then it started to ring again, and you quickly excused yourself to go out into the hallway, glancing at the caller I.D.

Yuna C.

. . .

"Hey.  Is everything okay?" you picked it up, not getting a good feeling at her calling.

"Yeah.  Sort of?"  She sounded a bit frazzled.  "The mirror looks the same...ish.  But your phone has been going off like crazy here.  It won't stop ringing."

"My — huh?"

"Your phone!  The one you showed me with all the photos from Wonderland?"

"Oh shit.  I'm on my way right now."

Hanging up on Yuna, you went back into the lecture hall and hastily apologized to the professor, spouting a half-assed lie about some emergency before grabbing your belongings and running out of there.

While the lecture hall wasn't super close to your dorm, you made it there within twenty minutes, something you were certain was a record for yourself if you weren't too preoccupied with what Yuna had told you.

Your phone has been going off like crazy here.

Maybe once upon a time, you would have been excited, but considering it was right by the mirror dripping with blot, you were more scared for Yuna than anything.

Busting into your dorm room, you expected the worst, afraid to see some blot monster in the room, or to see the mirror doused, but it more or less looked the same.  Yuna didn't seem too concerned, instead holding your phone.  When you came into the room, she readily handed it to you.

"Sorry...  Wasn't sure if I should answer it.  Your DMs on MagiGram?  MagiCam?  Have been blowing up.  So have your texts."

She was right, and you noticed how it showed you had one bar of service.  Somehow, you were getting service from Twisted Wonderland.

"Ugh...  I don't have a good feeling about this," you murmured, unlocking the phone.  Unsurprisingly, a majority of the texts and DMs were from Ace, Deuce, and Cater, and even a few from Kalim and surprisingly one from Idia.  They had all apparently gotten the notification that you were online, and you hesitated, debating on who you should send a message to.

Well, you didn't know if anybody got new phone numbers, so you opened the group chat you had with a majority of your friends on MagiCam.

hey guys, i don't know how i'm getting service, but i am. i think something is wrong. i am still in my world, but blot is here and now i can get service again. if you guys get this, i'm afraid it's affecting your world too.

You hesitated, fingers hovering hesitantly before you sent it and added on one more message.

i miss you guys.

You waited impatiently for the messages to send, the shitty service taking forever to go through...

. . . Only for the "FAILED MESSAGE" to appear besides both messages, "NO SERVICE" once more at the top of your phone.

"Damn it!"

In anger, you chucked your phone at the wall, watching it bounce off the wall and onto your bed.  Hot tears pricked your eyes.

You had been so close!  So close, only to have it snatched away again!  You could almost scream in frustration, and you buried your face in your hands, resisting the urge to just scream.  Yuna hovered over you, unsure of what to do.  She seemed awkward, clearly not good at comforting others.  Even if she was, you weren't sure anything she could say would comfort you.

"What do you think it means?" she asked after a second.  You glanced up at her, not quite understanding what she was getting at, and she gestured towards the mirror.  "I mean, first the mirror, and then the phone.  Clearly they're correlated.  And you mentioned you traveled in that other world through a mirror, right?  What if this mirror is like, I don't know...  Some gateway?"

You glanced back at the mirror.  With the amount of blot accumulating, you weren't sure you wanted to attempt stepping through it right now.

"Try bringing the phone over to it?"

Well, it was worth a shot.  Grabbing the phone, you made about two steps before the dorm room started to shake.  Unlike last night, this earthquake was much more sizable, sending you and Yuna toppling to the ground unceremoniously as the items and books off your shelves fell to the floor.

"The mirror!"

Yuna shrieked as the mirror fell off the wall, landing glass down on the wooden floor.  Neither of you could get up for a few seconds, and only when the shaking stopped did the two of you scramble to a stand on shaky legs.

"Is it broken?"

She nudged it with her foot and flipped it over, careful to not touch the blot.  It seemed unharmed, not even a crack on it, but you noticed how the blot was slowly eating away at the floorboards beneath it.  In fact...

"Hey.  Is it just me, or is that way more blot coming out of the mirror?"

It certainly was.  At Yuna's words, you grabbed out the gloves you bought from campus store earlier, giving her a pair.

"We have to get this out of here," you demanded.

Yuna looked pointedly at the floor boards.  "You don't think they'll charge us for that, do you...?"

"Now, Yuna!"

She slipped the gloves on, and the two of you quickly and carefully brought the mirror out of your apartment, blot dripping onto the floors in small droplets, leading a trail until the two of you got outside.

The earthquake had been one of the largest by far.  Car alarms once more were blaring, and the damage of trees was easy to see.  There was a huge crack in the sidewalk that made your heart clench, but you had not time to survey the aftermath.  With the mirror dripping with blot, your first priority was to get it away from anybody else.  The two of you made it to the lawn before dumping the mirror onto the grass, both of you panting.

"Shit.  It's getting worse," Yuna pointed out, almost the entire mirror engulfed and overflowing with blot now.  "What do we do?!"

"I don't know," you replied grimly.  Who did you even call in such a situation?  It's not like the police could do anything!  At the same time, though, clearly you couldn't do nothing.  The blot wasn't stopping any time soon, and your world didn't have magic to combat blot!  You weren't equipped to deal with this!

"Well, we have to do something!" Yuna shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

What to do, what to do...!

Your phone started to ring.  In irritation, you pulled it out, ready to turn it off silent only to realize which phone it was that was going off.  Without hesitation, you found your thumb pressing the 'answer' button, a familiar face popping up on the screen in terrible pixilation and glitchy quality.

"Ace?!"

[lola-andheruniverse]

Hey - thank you so much for your response to my other request. I’m loving the fics. I’m here now with another request.

I’m looking for Caryl fics that involve Carol going through pregnancy/birth. I’d love to see your recommendations. TIA 😊

Hey, @roryelijah02! Wow, I love baby fics! Thanks so much for asking for this rec list. It took me a while to select stories for you that haven't yet appeared on my blog. It's has a little bit of everything - from WIP to completed works and series, sweet and fluffy romances and major dramas with happy endings. There's even a series of funny one-shots written by a group of talented carylers in collaboration. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. 🧡 1. An Innocent Man by @spanishrose2002 [ 9Lives | AO3 | FF.net ] Summary: Caryl and Mandrea, AU.  Life began at forty and only got better from there.  Carol had a good job, amazing friends, and a happy life.  She didn’t need love, and she didn’t need romance.  Besides, she already knew that all men were the same.  They would all, eventually, be guilty of the same crimes.  That didn’t make her jaded; it just made her aware.  Could one man prove to her that he was different?  Could he prove to her that he was an innocent man? Rated: E Word count: 328.365 (119 chapters of ?) Published: April 12, 2020 (WIP)

2. Maybe It's Just Us by @waynedunlaptheorgandonor [ 9Lives | AO3 ] Summary: “Look, I don't know what to tell y'all. Carol's pregnant, it's mine, it wasn't on purpose, and we ain't a couple. That's it, that's all there is.”

Spoiler alert: That isn't all there is.

Rated: M Word count: 68.675 (13 chapters) Published: September 25, 2018 (complete)

3. illuminate the heart by lilabut / @singingfirefliess [ 9Lives | AO3 ]

Summary: Whatever had happened between them, it most definitely was not supposed to mean anything. The pink plus sign, however, tells a different story.

Rated: M Word count: 55.337 (09 chapters) Published: February 04, 2016 (complete)

4. Someone Else's Star by Amanda Hawthorn [ 9Lives | AO3 ]

Summary: All those years that Ed had blamed her for being a dried up, barren bitch and it was him that had been defective all along. If she wasn’t so stressed, she’d find the situation highly amusing, but right now, she couldn’t see the funny side. She had to face facts. She was forty six, alone and pregnant...no, not funny at all.

Rated: E Word count: 122.101 (29 chapters) Published: November 20, 2017 (complete) 5. What to Expect When You're Expecting by CharlotteAshmore, Amanda Hawthorn, BettyBubble, CLADD, Geektaire and Marie1063 / @haircoveredwriter [ 9Lives ] Summary: Carol’s pregnant … surely, something Daryl hadn’t been expecting.  Oh, the joys of parenthood!  But first he has to survive something worse than a zombie apocalypse … hormones, cravings, midnight runs for pickles, sensitive boobs and the list goes on and on. Rated: T Word count: 45.177 (12 one-shots) Published: February 01, 2018

[themsource]

Circus BSP AU

Soooo...had an idea that's been on my mind a while. Decided to share it because I know I haven't updated anything in a bit and I've been so busy with Secret Santas x_x

Anyways it's a long ramble from my ideas folder, not a real written piece, but I'm placing it below a cut ^^ This idea came to me while listening to Panic! At The Disco's cover of The Greatest Show a while back. I don't know if this has been done before but meh, just wanted to post my take on a circus au with the baddies

Rating: M

TWs: Mentions of torture, Kidnapping, Enslavement, Near Drowning

Nightmare and Dream own their own opposing circus rings. Dream recruits willing participants and their shows are always about love and positivity with graceful displays of athletics like ribbon dancing and aerial silk suspension, baton twirling and contortion, even godly fast speed painting with neon glowing soul magic to show an individual's ultimate dream even if they don’t know it themselves and store it in a personalized orb to take home as a memento for personalized viewing whenever you please. 

Nothing risky or seemingly life threatening/daredevil stunted. 

No, that’s Nightmare’s theme. 

In contrast he doesn’t recruit, he steals and binds individuals into contracts that can only be broken at his word or their untimely death should it occur. His ring has all the horrifying and thrilling shows that leave the audience anxious and on their toes, like sword swallowing/knife throwing/nail walking/fire breathing (Killer), Lions and Tigers - many dangerous animal performances (Horror), highwire/cannonball (Dust), and Motorcycle acts like the Wall of death and globe of terror (Cross). 

Nets and other safety precautions are ignored, this is the highlight and draw of Nightmare’s circus alongside the ability for one of your “nightmares” to be engraved on a stone tablet using soul magic so you never have to experience them again once the show is over.

Whereas Dream gives away positivity to spread through the worlds, Nightmare collects negativity in a personal vault for his own sustenance (the stone tablets) while still supplementing what he takes with the experiences his circus gives. 

This is the point of contention with the brothers. Dream doesn’t like how Nightmare still puts out negativity while also taking it away - it’s a selfish redundancy in his mind and perceived as unbalance, and Nightmare feels the same about how Dream puts out positivity with his circus but doesn’t take any away not only making his job more difficult to keep the flows even but causing him more suffering with how positive a world will be once Dream holds a performance.

The brother’s once owned a circus together but it broke apart with Nightmare’s downfall. 

Everyone was eager to see Dream perform but didn’t care for Nightmare’s escape acts and often boo’d and shamed him leaving the worlds they tried to equally balance always too filled with positivity. One day Nightmare almost died attempting to perform a dangerous escape stunt that he’d concocted to try and gain the audience’s approval, and just when it seemed to be working he ran out of magic (having not slept or ate well as he should’ve the night before when he’d been practicing) and nearly drowned. 

Dream was able to pull him free and save him but it took the last of their dead mother’s apples which proved too powerful and shattered Nightmare who was left horrified at what he’d become - a true reflection of ‘a demon’ as people called him, and led to him abandoning Dream to go his own way as the too much positivity started causing him pain and to go into frenzied breakdowns that he’d frequently black out through.

Since then Nightmare has not performed an escape act again and now solely plays ringleader. His innate trauma when it comes to performing is what led to him deciding to bring others into his fold to accomplish his goals, though he doesn’t let anyone know that. 

He contracted Killer, Dust, Horror, and then Cross in that order. Stealing them away from their own personal hells he found them in when noticing how fearless they were in the face of horrors far worse than what he had devised, and how equally terrifying their own appearances and auras were and would contribute to the overall effect he was going for. To get them to sign, he tortured them in never ending loops of nightmares, uncaring for how it affected them until they agreed. 

Killer was forced to experience going numb and filling with emotion on and off again repeatedly, the pain of switching so rapidly sending him into a spiral until he begged to be freed. 

Horror was forced to watch his fellow monsters dust and suffer the insanity inducing hunger wracking his frame as if fresh over and over as his brother kept mutating before his eyes. 

Dust had to watch his brother dust before his eyes repeatedly at his own hand no matter how much he fought against it, the pain of which was always too much each reset he experienced in his own world but in the nightmare without the time to breathe between each death and no goal of stopping the human in mind Dust cracked. 

Cross was sent into isolation, only it was so much worse as he didn’t have the ability to communicate with himself (even trying to think to himself and hold an imaginary conversation didn’t work) and could only experience the slow crawling of time as a sharp cutting sensation across his bones.

At first the gang all understandably despise Nightmare and what he forces them to do but he’s uncaring of it. However slowly the boys begin to find actual enjoyment in their work and bonding together as they come up with new routine ideas which they loathsomely try to share with Nightmare. 

Nightmare begins to feel impressed, even enthused though he doesn’t show it at their forwardness and makes recommendations for how to better execute their ideas while approving them. This causes the boys to begin feeling a sense of freedom and control they haven’t felt in years even before being stolen away but they still don’t soften to Nightmare even as Nightmare begins to soften just a bit to them at their willingness.

It isn’t until Nightmare and his trope encounter Dream and his that the boys end up feeling anything at all other than hate to the dark lord. 

They witness the exchange between Dream and Nightmare, the hostility Nightmare has when he and Dream argue over who has the right to be in this world first as Dream speaks in passive aggressive words about Nightmare’s awful decision making and unbalanced influence which Nightmare scoffs at before turning the argument petty as he remarks over Dream’s soft and impassioned performances. 

The second Dream comments about how his trope is a work of art while Nightmare’s is nothing more than ‘a glorified torture show’ the boy’s hackles raise - offended, not liking how Dream assumes they hate what they do (not anymore at least) which makes his trope’s performances more genuine and better since they’re willing. 

The boys witness the face Dream makes of regret at Nightmare’s bitter parting (dream’s words having surprisingly irked him) but don’t say a word. Instead they sneak in that night to watch Dream’s so called ‘better performances’ and are left feeling bored, and commenting on how it’s too bright, too sparkly and how they can do so much better. 

‘at least with us the crowd are actually on their feet.’ Killer huffs. ‘yeah, screaming too.’ Horror drawls. ‘I like the ribbons, not gonna lie.’ as Cross tosses back a handful of popcorn and earns amused scoffs from the others. Dust gives a rare smirk. ‘i have an idea.’ 

Nightmare is in his room, staring down at an old faded paper article that looks as if it might crumble into ash at the faintest breeze while he tries to ignore the pain in his chest from the positivity flooding the air. It’s a headline advertising his old act, the one that led to his transformation, when Killer walks in. Killer notices the article before Nightmare manages to fold it up and slip it into a breast pocket. It twinges something in him as he asks about it and Nightmare feeling a rare moment of openness blandly tells him of what happened. 

Killer is surprised and sudden understanding clicks but Nightmare dismisses it with ‘nothing more than childish hopes and pointless memories, what is it you want killer?’ 

Killer smiles.

It’s the first time Nightmare has seen that expression on Killer’s face and his socket widens. He feels something precariously close to a thrill race his spine as Killer hums, ‘me and the guys were talking…”

Dream and his friends are beginning to perform the big finale when suddenly the lights go off and Killer comes on over the intercom, ‘well as much as i love that hello kitty and fluffy rainbow shit like the next guy, how about we get a real party started?’ and the lights strobe back on in a kaleidoscope of flashing colors as Nightmare’s gang appear round the top of the stage. 

Killer flipping a jewel encrusted knife, Dust spinning an iron balancing rod as if it were a small plastic baton, Horror posed tall and looming with his one ear’d white lion and black tiger, and Cross on his sterling silver colored motorcycle revving the engine.

‘UH, DREAM? WHAT IS–” Before Blue can finish the boys are descending and taking the stage. Horror crowds them off with his animals as Cross races around the arena pulling shocked awes from the crowd and Killer blows fire setting the hanging ribbons up into a blaze of glory, Dust using his balancing rod to propel himself into the air and land on the lighting supports much to many surprised shouts of awe and worry. 

Dream can’t help but stare silently along with Blue and Ink as the show is stolen from them and negativity begins to seep in from the shocked and concerned onlookers who can’t bring themselves to look away, even clapping as Horror narrowly dodges being attacked by his own lion to allow the beast to burst through one of Ink’s paintings.

Nightmare watches in stunned surprise, amusement, and dare he even think it…

Endearment.

When all is said and done the crowd goes home excited and raving about the unexpected twist and Dream is left fuming as he goes off about how childish and inappropriate that was. Nightmare shrugs him off as he glances over his shoulder at his smug trope and comments about how it was no decision of his own making. Sure he knew, but he didn’t tell Killer no, but Dream doesn’t need to know that. 

When they go home Killer and the boys all gain a new bit of respect for their ring leader, and even a bit of fondness at how he let them do as they pleased. It’s a slow crawl from there. Each of them taking the time to get to know Nightmare a little better after also being told by Killer about his past, even asking him to join them for dinner one day where Nightmare finds enjoyment watching and listening to them go back and forth like a bunch of rowdy roommates. 

Horror introduces him to the animals, and manages to calm the tiger enough to let Nightmare pet it. ‘her name’s mira.’

‘...You named her?’ 

‘yep, her and bosco.’ 

‘Is Bosco the lion?’ 

Horror looks oddly fond. ‘heh, no, he’s the gator. the lion is kimba, killer named him.’  

Dust invites him to help him as he works on repairing and calibrating his canon, handing him tools and reciting blueprints. ‘need better bolts, these are starting to strip.’ 

‘I never knew you were so…hands on, Dust.’ 

‘cross’ fault. i saw him babying that bike of his and got tired of having nothing to do.’ 

‘I see.’ 

There’s silence, an uncertainty. ‘...i want to repaint it. i don’t like the colors.’ 

Nightmare considers. ‘...Alright, what colors would you like?’ 

Dust’s smile reminds him of Killer’s. ‘heh.’

Cross takes him for a ride and shows him just how fast his bike can go. ‘SLOW DOWN YOU HEATHEN! THIS IS NOT A SHOW!’ 

‘c’mon nightmare! live a little!’ 

Nightmare shivers at feeling Cross’s hand guide his to his waist, his voice reminiscent of a whisper into his acoustics. ‘i won’t let you fall.’ 

Nightmare averts his gaze. ‘Falling is not the point!’ 

Killer…killer brings him outside and sets him on a blanket beneath the only tree for miles as he sharpens his blades, handing nightmare one after the other and telling him what kind they are like a teenager. ‘and this is a messer! it’s german for knife but looks more like a dagger.’ 

‘Interesting. You’ve taken care of these well.’ 

Killer smirks. ‘i take care of the things i care about.’ 

Nightmare raises a brow as he echos. ‘Care about.’ 

‘i don’t have to feel it to know that i care about it.’ The shrug he gives is indifferent, but the look is another matter entirely, one that brings a foreign heat to Nightmare’s cheeks. It feels like a flirtation, but it can’t be, he knows where he stands with him - with all of them. 

‘An even more interesting notion.’ he whispers.

It isn’t until he stumbles upon Horror pining Dust to a wall in a small forgotten hallway with Dust’s legs around Horror’s hips as they kiss that Nightmare realizes there’s a deeper bond between the members of his trope that he never noticed. One that they’re starting to willingly let him see as he spots Cross and Killer not long after training together with Cross pinned to the knife board as Killer sensually traces patterns across his bones with the tip of a finely oiled blade. It’s shocking how they managed to get away with this, hiding the fluctuations in their emotions from his notice.

The understanding spurs something in him that’s…genuine. 

On equal footing.

Killer notices his staring and holds eye contact just out of Cross’ line of sight as he kisses the other skeleton. The emotions are there now, raw and unfiltered. Desire, want…teasing. 

It’s an invitation.

Nightmare turns away and hides in his room thinking. He doesn’t know what he feels, not yet. But he does find himself wanting to, maybe, get a little closer to them. To know them, just as they’re obviously trying to do with him. 

He likes watching Horror train his pets, he enjoys seeing Cross flip over ramps and twirl his bike beneath him mid-leap, he finds amusement in Killer trying to paint the sky with words made of fire, and he can’t resist staring as Dust pretends multiple times as if he’s going to fall only to stand back upright confidently and with poise. He can’t help wondering if this is what friendship is, companionship. He thought he’d known that once with his brother but he’d been wrong. The feelings are too different.

So he…takes the risk. 

The dinners continue, the quality time, with him contributing by inviting them to let him read aloud of his books and going out to explore the worlds now before performing, but it all starts to weigh heavy on him and this manifests in him one day suggesting as Killer and Dust put forth a duet idea to suggest they use netting…in case of an accident.

The boys go silent, staring at him. 

Nightmare feels judged, and it’s made clear that he is when Killer says rather carelessly, ‘since when do you care about our safety?’ It’s then made clear to Nightmare that no matter how hard he tries, and no matter what they open up to him and he them, that he can’t be more or get closer. 

They will always see him as nothing more than their owner, their master. 

‘Forget I said anything.’

Nightmare is left torn, does he put everything on the line by offering to release their contracts in the hopes that they’ll stay when it’s far more likely they’ll run if given the chance? Or does he hold on, and get left standing alone to watch as an outsider on the bond between them just as he’s always been to the universe at large.

He tried to run before he could walk. This is the obstacle between them and the first step that he knows has to be taken, the rest of the moments they share are empty so long as the contracts exist. And not only that but the leagues he’ll have to go to make up for what he put them through when he first found them, if they dare to even give him the chance.

There’s a bitter, terrifying, decision to reach. 

Nightmare is in unfamiliar waters as he feels the sting of indecisiveness that he hasn’t felt since he was a child.

[queenofbaws]

as someone who is SO GOOD at forgetting i was tagged in stuff immediately after being tagged in stuff, i thought i'd go ahead and fill this puppy out while it was fresh in my mind ;)c hehehe thanks for the tag @phenanthreneblue!!!!!!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

156 😎 and hopefully no sign of slowing, lol. i've been writing and posting fic since aboooooout 2007 though, so. do with that as you will.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

it's. um. it's. uh. a lot. ahem. it's a lot.

(1,923,174)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currrrrrrrrently the supermassive universe and dragon age, but i'm slowly adding the remedyverse in there, and silent hill pops up from time to time!!! and in ye olden days, i wrote a LOT for kingdom hearts. i've been CONSIDERING adding horizon to the list too, but...only time will tell, hehehe ;P

4. Top five fics by kudos

the (almost)s; who ya gonna call? not these creeps.; my fav part of summer camp [not clickbait!]; lipstick stains & coffee cups; yes, no, maybe so: circle one and let me know!

5. Do you respond to comments?

i do! i figure if you took the time to read AND let me know how you felt about my work, then by golly, i'm gonna tell you how much YOU made me smile :)c i've met some pretty cool people thanks to the comment section, hehe

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

aw man, probably alone time, right? probably alone time. i'm sure there was some extremely angsty stuff in my kingdom hearts days, but lord help me i am old and i have forgotten a lot of that

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

well, the durellion affair ends with everyone getting to eat as much cheese as they want, so i think that fits the bill!!! 🧀

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nah. i've been crazy lucky that, aside from the occasional (and likely unintentional) insensitive comment, people have always been super kind with my stuff <3 the deviantart days were a slightly different story, but why relive THAT time period, i ask you?????

9. Do you write smut?

nope. i'm not, like, opposed, i just don't think it would be good, and i've yet to write something where i felt it would add anything, so. nah. there are so many other things i can do to earn that m rating ;)

10. Craziest crossover?

for sure did an organization xiii/sweeney todd crossover once, in the long-long ago asldkjflsakdjf recently, though, i guess i'd have to say reading & other fun rituals was a VERY self-indulgent way for me to smash the remedyverse and supermassive universes together!!!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

eh, every time one of those "this site is scraping people's fics!" posts goes around, i end up finding my stuff, but in terms of bumping into an individual nabbing something i've written? not that i'm aware of! (i like to believe anyone reading would recognize the overabundance of adjectives and come tell me, ha!!!)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had people ask, but i've never seen a finished product, so probably not! i tend to write pretty long stuff, though, and i wouldn't wish that kind of work on anyone alsdkjflaskdjfksljfd

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have! none that are posted currently, but i've for sure co-written in the past. i'm also slowly but surely co-writing a fun little thing over here with my buds where our (totally cool and DEFINITELY not overpowered) self-inserts have fun being npcs in the federal bureau of control, so...keep your eyes peeled for that, heheheheh

14. All time favourite ship?

right now? varric tethras and f!hawke 🥺 at this point in time, i only have eyes for them

15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

sigh. soft reset 😔 it's a big ol' silent hill 2 timeloop fic that i started back in 2015 i think, and as much as i WANT to finish it...i haven't felt the silent hill muse strike in a hot minute. maybe once the remake comes out.

16. What are your writing strengths?

oh, i like to flatter myself that i'm pretty solid when it comes to character voices/interactions 😉 it's why i do so many character studies, honestly - i just *clenches fist* love studying characters!!! i also think my dialogue's fun

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

how much time do you HAVE??? hehehe i feel like i flounder when it comes to straight up-and-down fluffy/shippy stuff, like if the focus of a story is, for example, some sort of romantic gesture, i'm fairly lost. i'm also HORRENDOUS when it comes to keeping things concise, and god help me, every time i have to delete a passage and kill my darlings, i am miserable, so i tend to just...not do that

also? just putting it out there because i do consider it a weakness in regards to writing: sometimes my self-esteem with posting stuff is just. MISERABLE. so i have a tendency to get anxious before, during, and after hitting the post button, just really wallowing in those good, good I'M A FRAUD feelings, lmfao. i'm working on it, though!!! i love writing so much, sometimes the irrational part of my brain just worries i'm not Doing It Right, hahahaha

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

no one's done it better than the thing (1982) and no one ever will

19. First fandom you wrote in?

proooooobably kingdom hearts??? don't quote me on that, though, it very much could've been x-men: evolution asdlkfjsalkjf (those just never saw the light of day)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

c'moooooon. the (almost)s :)

i'm gonna go ahead and tag...hmm... @love-fireflysong @jadedsunshine @unicornaffair @big-ass-magnet @mrs-theirin @theartofdreaming1 @icequeen-07 @chris-hartley and anyone - yes, i mean ANYONE - who wants to talk about their stuff ;) especially YOU!!!

[andromeda4004]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @carry-the-sky, thank you!

How many works do you have on ao3?

7 (8 by the weekend!)

What's your total ao3 word count?

276,499

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively Good Omens at this point, not that I don't enjoy others. But the more I give myself permission to write for fandoms, the less likely I am to ever get around to finishing off my own OCs' story.

Top five fics by kudos:

Morningstar Abbey (Regency AU, T rated, 116K)

Mission: Ineffable (spy action AU, M rated, 25K)

Vaster than Empires (non-angsty S3, E rated, 5K)

The Serpent of the Loch (historical crack, T rated, 8K)

Antoinette (1920s wives AU, T rated, 118K)

Do you respond to comments?

As much as possible, although it does sometimes take me a while. I prefer to do them at my laptop than on my phone (typing is quicker) so sometimes I catch them up in a batch.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be The Truth I cannot Speak, a post-1827 Edinburgh diary entry from Aziraphale where he reflects on all the things he cannot tell Crowley, and might not ever get the chance to now. That one has poetry!

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I do tend towards the happy ending for preference, but I guess Morningstar Abbey would be happiest, since it ends drinking wine in the garden the day after the wedding 💕

Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, I haven't.

Do you write smut?

I do now! Vaster than Empires was the first E rated fic I've shared, and I have a new one coming out this weekend for the High Pollen Count sex pollen event.

Craziest crossover:

Mission: Impossible, probably! Although that's not a crossover, it's a human AU. I haven't written a classic crossover yet, and I don't know that I will, it's not quite my style.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of, and I've only been doing this just over a year, so seems unlikely.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, but one lives in hope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I would love to! I do like beta reading and providing some collaborative suggestions when people are looking for them, so I suspect I'd enjoy formally co-writing something with an author I clicked with.

All time favorite ship?

It's got to be the Ineffable Husbands/Wives/Partners. The ship that keeps on giving!

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I try to focus as much as possible when writing, to avoid having too many half-done works at once, so I don't have any WIPs which are languishing at the moment. Except for my original work, but that will get finished, just quite slowly!

What are your writing strengths?

Plots and dialogue. I like to tell a story, a whole thing, with lots of developed characters and psychology and subplots, which leads me to the weakness...

What are your writing weaknesses?

Stopping! All my fics end up longer than I was hoping because I can't stop writing them! And on the smaller scale, simple things like working out where to stop a scene, I just can't do it! Rather, I can because I've worked at it, but it has been effort to get better at this.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it. I'm fluently bilingual, and have basic functional language skills in two or three more (or I do with a bit of warm-up!), but verbal is not the same as written, so I do try to get a native speaker to beta anything more than a word or two.

First fandom you wrote in?

In the beginning... the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

Yep, first fandom I remember writing things for was H2G2, back in the 90s when everything was on paper. Although I have been in fanclubs since Discworld as a teenager and further back I think Redwall as a kid?

Favorite fic you've written?

No, don't make me pick! They're all lovely! Although probably Mission: Ineffable, because I'm currently enjoying revisiting that AU to work on a sequel.

tagging! (no pressure!): @afrenchwriter @sabotage-on-mercury @suavissimapenna @hotcrosspigeon @homemadeapplecider @voluptatiscausa and anyone else who sees this and wants to play :)

[biggsodorcitystories]

Warrior's Missing Eagle Crest -A TUGS Fanfiction

I haven't written anything in an embarrassing amount of time, so this is probably a big pile of doo-doo, but I'm just so proud that this feels like a release of sorts so I had to share!

Fandom:Tugs

Rating: General

Genre: General, Family.

Characters (active): Hercules, Warrior, Susannah (OC)

Charcters (mentioned): Top Hat, Big Mac, Ten Cents, Sunshine, Captain Starr, Sea Rogue, Lillie, Zebedee, Aurora (OC), Silver Penny (OC), Grandma Starr (OC), Bright Dawn (OC), Andrew (OC)

Pairings: Warrior x Susannah, Hercules x Lillie, Big Mac x Top Hat, Bright Dawn x Sea Rogue.

Warnings: Humanised characters, Headcanon that Warrior is the brother of Hercules and Ten Cents, M/M pairing and references to Mpreg, CanonxOC ships, references to abandonment, depression, and angst.

Summary: Hercules accidentally comes across Warrior and Susannah deep in conversation on an evening walk, and hears Susannah ask why Warrior does not have an eagle crest like his brothers. Warrior's response is not what Hercules expected, forcing him to reflect on how his behaviour could have shaped Warrior's thoughts.

This route to Lowtown brought back a lot of memories as Hercules strolled along the path. It felt like another time – another world, even – when he had trotted along at the heels of his beloved aunt, Bright Dawn Starr, and her beau Patrick Teach – known to most as Sea Rogue. In a way, it had been both. His aunt and Sea Rogue had been in their late teens, barely into adulthood, while he had been little more than a toddler and still figuring out coherent speech. But he could still remember how much he had enjoyed the walks, clutching his auntie's hand and thinking up new ways to stop 'Uncle Patch' from holding the other one. Looking around, very little had changed along the riverbank path itself, but he couldn't remember enough about the area to consider how the environment had changed. It had been around twenty-five years since he'd last taken a walk this way.

He'd been twelve when they'd returned to the city, and Hercules had been far too busy in the past decade with supporting his grandfather to rebuild the Starr fleet and their reputation, and helping his mother to recover with the divorce from his father after he ran off with Auntie Dawn, with her raising his new baby brother, Ten Cents, and with...

“Warrior, can I ask you something?”

Hercules stopped in his tracks at the sound of the voice. He immediately recognised it as Susannah Moran – her Liverpudlian accent so like her father, Zebedee's, that it was fairly unique. To the surprise of many, she and Warrior had entered into a courtship that her father had not opposed. It seemed that he had stumbled across one of their dates.

They were sat by the river's edge, with their backs to him, deep in conversation. Part of him was screaming that he shouldn't be eavesdropping on them in this way, and he was about to make his presence known, when Warrior spoke.

“Course you can, Suse. What is it?”

Susannah seemed to be looking at something in front of her.

“How come yous don't have an eagle crest on your hat like your brothers? Don't yous have one?”

Hercules froze. That question had never been asked of him, nor of his brothers to his knowledge, but he knew that it had been whispered throughout the port ever since Ten Cents had received his crest two years before.

“Why is Warrior the 'odd one out' to his brothers..?”

He had an idea what the answer was, but to his shame realised that he'd never heard it from Warrior himself. Though he felt guilty, almost dirty, he kept quiet and listened for Warrior's response.

Warrior sighed, moving to take what Hercules assumed was his hat from Susannah.

“Oh, sure I got one.” He sighed. “Grandma gave us all one on our fifteenth birthday, like a coming of age thingy. She gave one to Aurora and Sunshine the first Christmas after we found out who they were.”

Susannah nodded with no hint of surprise. Hercules wasn't sure how he felt about that, given that it meant she knew more about their family history than he'd like, but was distracted as Warrior continued.

“I've got mine in the box it came in, on my bedside table.”

“Why don't you wear it?”

There was a pause before Warrior replied.

“I...I daren't, Suse. I don't wanna break it or lose it if I 'ave one of me accidents. It...it means too much to me.”

Hercules pulled a face and fought down an urge to scoff. The eagle crests Grandma Starr had given them were heavy, solid things that practically fused to his and Ten Cents' hats, so he wasn't entirely convinced by his brother's reasoning. Hell, Ten Cents had taken a fuel tanker explosion to the face, and his crest had suffered nothing worse than a bit of soot and smoke staining. Warrior's habit of bumping into and tripping over things was unlikely to cause it much harm, if any.

Susannah seemed to be following a similar line of thought.

“Doesn't it mean as much to Hercules and Ten Cents too?” Warrior looked away as he gave a bitter chuckle.

“I'm not sayin it don't...doesn't mean anythin to them. But...I don't think either of them ever saw it as I did when they got theirs.”

Susannah didn't reply, and she sat quietly until Warrior turned back to look at her.

“Yknow 'ow I told you about being fostered by Big Mac and Top 'At when we first moved back here?”

Susannah gave a nod, which Hercules wasn't entirely shocked by. Strangers to the port would frequently make the assumption that Warrior was the son of Big Mac and Top Hat, which annoyed him almost as much as the looks of surprise when they learned who his real family was. Hercules wished his younger brother wouldn't be so cheerful whenever he corrected someone, and in quiet moments he suspected that Big Mac and Top Hat secretly delighted in the mistake. He couldn't let go of the thought that the couple would like nothing more than to claim Warrior as their own child, as they probably would have done if his mother hadn't claimed Warrior back.

“Oh yeah?” Susannah continued. “Because your Mum needed the break while she was getting back on her feet?”

“Yeah. With my Dad runnin out on us, movin from London, and finding out she were pregnant again. It was a lot to 'andle...an I think I was making it a lot worse with the way I was acting.”

Hercules felt his brows raise at this last remark. He would have sworn that Warrior didn't remember that time.

“My Dad...I don't really remember 'im that well. I were only three when he left, but I do remember 'im lettin me get away with a lot. Then 'e was gone, and suddenly I wasn't allowed to do anythin' any more and kept gettin' into trouble. I do remember not taking it well and I was a little shit to everyone, especially my Mum...”

“You were three years old, Warrior. Three year olds don't behave at the best of times, and your whole world changed overnight.”

“I know, but...I was too much for Mum to 'andle at the time. Hercules tried to help with me, but he was...eleven or twelve? I reckon we both looked and sounded like screaming kids.”

Hercules found himself nodding in agreement as he looked away. No matter how much they wanted to, a pre-teen was no substitute for a parent, even if they weren't hurting from their own trauma as he had been. It was just one of many things he struggled with guilt over, regardless, unable to shake the feeling that he'd failed both his mother and Warrior.

“Mum ended up breaking down. Lucky that Top 'At were with her when she did, an 'e offered to 'ave me for a little while, until she were better. Hercules ended up stayin with our grandparents.”

“Why didn't they take yous too?”

“They offered, more than once. Thing is, Andrew was me best mate even then, an I reckon everyone thought it would do me good if I were close to someone my age instead of with Hercules. Mum kept comin to see me, anyway, tellin me about the new baby an 'ow I was gonna be a big brother an all. At first, it felt like a big sleepover – it was great. Not to mention, Big Mac and Top 'At were doin a lot to undo the behaviours Dad had taught me, though I didn't know at the time. I don't like to think about what I'd have turned out like if they'd not sorted me.

But when the weeks turned into months, and I spent most of Christmas with them instead of my own family...I remember starting to worry. I knew by then that I'd been...naughty while I was at home, and I wondered if I'd been sent away to live with my godparents because of it, like a punishment. I asked them when I was going home again, and they told me it was just until Mum 'ad the new baby.

It were enough for me for a while, even though I knew Hercules was back home, but he was older. I was happy to start – I got to spend every day with Andrew and I loved that. Mum was still coming to visit, and I went to see her and my grandparents, just came back with Big Mac and Top 'At. I reckon it were bothering me, deep down, but I could still treat it like a long sleepover, or an 'oliday and forget about it.”

He paused to give another heavy sigh.

“Then Ten Cents was born. Top 'At took me to see Mum and I got to hold 'im. I remembered being so excited an tellin Mum he could sleep in my room with me, which Mum smiled at and said he was too little to share my room. I went back thinking Mum would come and get me a few days later, but she didn't.

I still went to visit like I 'ad before, but there was no talk of me comin back.”

“Why didn't you ask to come home?”

For a second, Hercules thought that he'd spoken – the question had been echoing through his skull loud enough and he'd been getting more frustrated each time Warrior mentioned wanting to go home. He'd been asking the same questions while Warrior was away – if Warrior had just asked once, maybe their mother would have brought him back where he belonged sooner than she had. He half expected Warrior to hear and turn to see him, which would almost certainly result in another fight between them.

But Warrior's attention remained fixed on Susannah, the one who had actually asked the question. His response was so quiet that Hercules barely made out what he said.

“I was scared to, Suse. I didn't even want to go into my bedroom in case I saw it had been turned into Ten Cents' nursery and all my stuff was gone. I'd been getting' nightmares for weeks about Mum and Hercules tellin me that they didn't love me any more...”

He could hear the tears behind Warrior's voice as he ended the last sentence – as sure as he felt his own stinging his eyes. The frustration of a few seconds ago withered in the face of this new shame. Why was this a revelation to him? Warrior was talking about something that happened seventeen years ago – he should have known long before today that Warrior had felt like this and soothed said fears away.

But Warrior had never told him about them!

He looked up to see Susannah comforting Warrior, her head leaning on his shoulder. He saw his brother wipe his eyes.

“I'm alright.” He said softly, turning his head to kiss the top of her head. “Sorry about dat.”

“It's okay.” She replied. “You got back to your family though, and they didn't send yous away.”

“Yeah...that's a story in itself. When Ten Cents was born and I still didn't get to go home, staying with Big Mac and Top 'At wasn't so fun any more. They'd got me out of the tantrums and bratty stuff, and I knew dat if my real family didn't want me they were all I 'ad left, so I just cried myself to sleep a lot. I wasn't as quiet as I thought, as either they'd hear me or Drew would go down an tell em I was crying and they'd come up and comfort me. They tried their best, but I was sure I was staying with them forever. Then...”

Warrior paused for a second, as if trying to choose his words. Hercules was partly relieved for the respite – every word had felt like an accusing jab to the stomach – but he was fairly confident about where Warrior was going next.

“It turned out that I weren't the only one thinkin' I was stayin' with my foster parents forever. Top 'At an Big Mac have two kids older than Andrew – Joeseph an Heather. I dunno why, an if I'm bein really honest I think I'm best not knowin, but they decided I was stayin with them forever too. Heather decided to start bragging to Hercules about I was her brother now. Hercules got really angry and mouthed off at her. She got upset and Joe stood up for her, which might 'ave gone really badly if he wasn't an ocean-going tug as well.”

Hercules felt his teeth clench in anger, but not at his brother. Since that day, he and Joeseph had been unable to stay in the same room, let alone talk to one another, without it escalating to a fight. Joeseph had only been defending his little sister, but he didn't know why until Heather confessed to her teasing a year later. Her parents had been furious, but the damage had already been done...

“When we managed to break them apart, Mum an Top 'At went away an 'ad a very long talk. I was miserable, an sure dat was it for me. Mum an Hercules would never want me back after the fightin and Mum 'ad fell out with her best friend. But, later dat night Mum came over and said I was comin home the next day. I wanted to be 'appy, but I was frightened dat it was a punishment because of the fight.” He paused to sigh. “My room was still the same with all the stuff I'd left, an Mum helped me put my other things away. She gave me lots of hugs and said she was sorry she adn't brought me back sooner. My grandparents came over an made a fuss of me bein back – especially Grandma – an even Ten Cents seemed to like avin someone to play with. Hercules made a big show of bein glad I was back, but...”

'Made a “big show?!”' I was happy you were back home! Hercules wanted to scream at him, but forced himself to calm down when he heard Warrior speak in response to something Susannah had said.

“Well, it was the way he was with me later...it were like 'e thought I was only actin less spoiled and he was just waitin' for me to drop the act. Every little thing, he'd be there, either fixing what I was already doing or tellin me what to do. To start with, I thought he was tryin to 'elp an I wanted him to see how much better behaved I was now an make 'im proud. But...nothin' I did, nothin I said, were ever good enough for Hercules to stop watchin' me like I was gonna just go back to before. Everyone else seemed so happy with me, but the way Hercules kept treatin me made me worry dat he was the only one who wasn't hidin' the feelins they all 'ad. I felt like they were all waitin for me to make a mistake...so....so they could send me away for good...”

Hercules could barely think as he heard Warrior – his own brother – confess to feeling unwanted because of his behaviour. He wanted to deny it, insist it was just Warrior's imagination that made him believe those things. He even wanted to blame Big Mac and Top Hat, somehow poisoning Warrior's mind against them. It had been their son who Hercules had gotten into the fight with, and their daughter who had caused the fight with her tall tales, so maybe it was revenge against him to create a rift?

But for all his wants, he knew they would be lies. Not the wanting his brother back home, that had been true enough, but what Warrior had said about him watching for a return to form? To his shame, that was completely true.

He had resented his younger brother for automatically getting all his father's attention and favour, to the point that he'd been shocked that he'd not been taken by their father and Auntie Dawn when they left. In the weeks that followed, he'd seen their father's actions in everything Warrior had done, with every tantrum feeling like just another act of mockery from the man. He shouldn't have held his brother, who was barely more than a toddler, accountable, but he'd been twelve years old and full of pain. When Warrior had been sent to Big Mac and Top Hat, a tiny part of him had been relieved to be getting a break and having his grandparents' full attention. Maybe in some darker moments, in those early days of sorting his feelings, he'd entertained some private thoughts about how it might be better for Warrior to stay away. He'd caught them and buried them away, horrified by them. When Warrior had stayed away they had often danced back into his memories like an accusation. Once again, they were trying to resurface...

Because it had been so much easier if he treated Warrior like he needed to be constantly watched, to ignore his guilt by transferring it to his brother. It had been noticed too – his mother, grandparents, O.J, even Ten Cents had tried speaking to him about the way he treated Warrior. They'd never approached him, but Big Mac and Top Hat had often flashed disappointed glances in his direction when Warrior had fled to them after yet another argument. If they really did want to steal Warrior away, Hercules was doing them a huge favour.

“Yeah, I spent a lot of time with Big Mac an' Top At. Dey never made me feel like I 'ad to walk on eggshells, so I went over just for the peace. Even after they adoped Maggie, I was welcome any time. Mum and my grandparents would try an get me to stay 'ome more, an I'd try to, but it just got too much sometimes. Some days, I'd barely get through the door before it started...dat's one of the reasons I did the Fire Tug training, to get away from the fleet an do somethin different. The Fire Chief 'ad nothin but good things to say 'bout me, so Hercules couldn't pick at me about it.”

Hercules had been impressed with Warrior's dedication to becoming a certified Fire Tug – he'd been stupidly proud of how much the Fire Chief had praised Warrior.

But like many things, he'd never expressed these feelings out loud...

“When I were seven, Hercules turned fifteen and Grandma came in with this little box. She called 'im away for a minute, an' when they came back, 'e was holding the eagle crest. I remember thinkin it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen, and Ten Cents – 'e was three – was asking Grandma if 'e could have one like it. Grandma said we would both be getting' our own on our fifteenth birthdays, because it were a tradition. She specifically said I'd be getting mine first, because I were older and it was fair, but I became convinced dat she'd only said it to calm Ten Cents down and thought I'd forget. I was so sure as I got older that my fifteenth birthday would come an' dere wouldn't be a crest for me...right up until I opened the box and saw it.”

“What happened? Your gran must have seen you were surprised when she gave it to you.”

“I...burst into tears right in front of her – she was horrified!” Warrior chuckled. “She even looked in the box to make sure it was in dere before she gave me a hug. She's the only one in the family I ever told about 'ow I was feelin because I just blurted everythin out right in front of her. We spent so long away from everyone Mum came lookin for us. I'd calmed down by dat time an we were just getting ready to come back, so Mum didn't see me upset. I think Grandma must have said somethin afterwards, because suddenly Mum was giving me a lot of hugs – I think she might 'ave been hurt I didn't tell her myself. “

“What about Hercules?”

Nobody had said anything to Hercules, but after Warrior's fifteenth birthday, his grandparents had pulled him up about being so hard on Warrior a couple of times. He'd listened to them – or he'd thought he had – but it had never occurred to him to wonder why.

“I mean, things aren't as bad as they were between him an me, but...I still feel like Ten Cents is the only thing keepin us from arguing a lot of the time. I know he gets confused about it all, but I think he's decided it's better not to know. Besides, I reckon he's 'had a bit more to worry about after what nearly 'appened with Sunshine.”

Sunshine, and his twin sister Aurora, had both been given their own crests the previous Christmas. Their sister had fashioned hers into a pendant, and wore it out as a necklace more than as a crest, and Sunshine only wore his on special occsions, claiming the weight gave him a headache after a few hours. That had never bothered Hercules anywhere near as much as Warrrior not wearing his had, and he realised with a sudden shame that he knew how his other three siblings - two of whom he had only known about for little over a year – felt about their crests before now, but not Warrior.

“Warrior...” Hercules took a step back to hide behind a bush as Susannah turned to look at Warrior straight on. The last thing he needed was for her to spot him now, after he had eavesdropped on this conversation.

“I know it's not my place, but I think yous need to tell Hercules these things. I'd be horrified if any of my brothers or my sister felt this way about me, and...I think he would too, if he'd heard us talking.”

Warrior sighed, and hung his head.

“I reckon 'e would too, Suse. Things 'ave gotten a bit better since everything went down last year, cos I think Hercules realised 'e could actually talk to me a bit. We talked a lot about our father, but...I don't know if I can bring the conversation up without starting another argument and goin back to square one...”

Hercules backed away slowly, relieved to see that neither of them were making a move to get up, and turned to leave.

He had a lot to think about...

[elvisabutler]

oh god could we Please get a fic where austin gets pegged 🙏🙏🙏 i need it

get the feeling

summary: once upon a time there was a man in love with a woman. once upon a time that woman wanted to peg the man. the man had no real objections. fandom: austin butler rating: m pairing: austin butler x plus sized female reader word count: 2295 warning: pegging. use of the word good boy. at least faint dom/sub vibes. sub austin. little bit of crying. little bit of come play. talk about prepping for anal penetration. coming without being touched. handjobs technically. brief mention of the reader wanting to call a strap on a cock. a faint trace of feminization i think but i can't quite tell. just in case we'll add it. use of the color system ( red, yellow, green ) for sex. author’s note: ah anon, i know where this came from. i do throwaway lines and they come back to haunt me in the best of ways. i basically began and finished this today. something about getting a full proper night of sleep inspired me i guess. haven't written pegging in- forever because i think i've written it maybe once or twice for other fandoms. hope you enjoy and hope this scratched an itch for you. and consider this a continuation of every lover's got a dagger in their hand because that's what i did. also y'all wanna be part of my tag list fill this out here.

Ever since Austin had made what you and him both affectionately call "The Miscalculation" in thinking that maybe you enjoyed daddy kink you two hadn't really tried much of anything. Busy schedules preventing much more than quick pecks and just as quick sex. It's not a problem, you both knew what you signed up for being with the other person and yet it allows both of you- or at least you to fantasize when you're alone. It allows your mind to swirl with thoughts and images of various positions and things you want to do with Austin. It helps your job, allowing you to take scenes in ways that were new and adventurous while still staying firmly in agreed upon limits but you find yourself wishing more and more you could finally get an opportunity to enact the fantasy with the object of your fantasy.

Thankfully the opportunity presents itself in one of the rare weekends Austin has had off at the same time you are off. Or more accurately the opportunity to bring up the subject arose as he stroked your hair and you drew shapes on his torso.

"Would you ever mind being pegged? Or is that a hard no?" The question is asked with zero preamble but if there's one thing you're pretty certain Austin knows about you by now it's that you are incredibly direct when you want to be and this particular time is no exception. Truly, this time just goes hand in hand with any discussion you have about sex, just a remarkably frank talk that the other person just tends to be along on the ride for.

Austin chokes on his spit a little at the sudden question but recovers startlingly quick, planting a kiss on the crown of your head as he answers. "I. I never thought about it before The Miscalculation," he pauses and you hear the sound of his saliva wetting his lips as he licks them, "but it's been in my head for a little bit, lately. I know you'd take care of me."

Your mind latches onto the idea of him thinking about it like you had. It latches onto the idea that he's been fantasizing about you with a strap on sliding in and out of him. That he's been fantasizing about whimpering and whining and begging to come undone beneath you. You feel the fire of your arousal go from faint embers to a roaring heat as you grab one of his hands and feel his fingers slide through your folds. Your question comes out a little shaky.

"Can I take care of you tomorrow?"

As it turns out he had no objections to that in the slightest. There were no dinners you two had made plans to go to. There were no work related events that might crop up. There was nothing but you and him and your bed. It's been your experience that people do their best prep for things like this by themselves. Of course, you always do a final inspection and help where you can but there's something uniquely intimate about cleaning yourself out this way and you- despite knowing how much Austin cares for you and adores you, you don't want to rush him. You don't want to cause him any undue discomfort partially so that it doesn't sour the mere idea of the actions that are about to happen but also because he's the man you love. He's the man you love and the fierce protectiveness you know he feels for you goes both ways. Your own protectiveness wraps itself around him like an armor and you're loathe to hurt him- to cause a single chink in that armor.

He does a remarkably good job at prepping himself, and you wonder briefly if he truly has never done this before. You know he hasn't though, know it's just a side effect of knowing how to clean himself properly and thoroughly. When you open the door he has his fingers starting to trace his hole with some hesitation. It was one thing to clean himself out, another to lube himself up. Your voice is a soft murmur as you press your naked body against his, making sure your full breasts push against his back. "On the bed, baby boy. On the bed for your queen."

His lips curl into a smile at the term of endearment he's used for you once or twice before. Perhaps that should be what he calls you in situations like this, ma'am and queen. Perhaps that encompasses your relationship in ways mama and mistress and any other combination of words do. You hum as you watch him walk to the bed with all the grace of a newborn fawn before flopping on the bed. A chuckle leaves your lips and you know you should tell him move, to make it easier for you to make sure you thoroughly prep him but instead you lay down beside him and take the lube, generously coating your fingers before you start to prep him. Involuntarily he tenses before you shush him, your free hand stroking his cheek. "Relax, it's just me. Just making sure I won't hurt you. Remember how you work me open when I'm not ready?"

He nods, a noise that sounds almost like a whine escaping his lips as he relaxes slowly but surely allowing your finger to slide into his hole. You take your time, allowing Austin to set the pace as you feel him relax more and more. Your hand stays on his face for a few minutes before he grabs your wrist and moves it down his torso. He's always been sensitive there and you feel the muscles tense as your fingertips dance across the skin as you move lower and lower, brushing past his cock that's slowly filling up the more you press against his prostate and settle on his thigh. A squeeze has him whining your name as you shush him whispering little sweet nothings into his ears.You hear his breath even out even as it hitches when you hit that certain spot inside him or when you move to add another finger but he takes them so well. He takes them so well and you can't help the words that leave your mouth.

"That's my good baby boy, being good for your queen. Relaxing for her, getting ready to take her. Gonna look so pretty with me inside of you, aren't you? Gonna bounce up and down on your queen, hm? Or am I going to have to do all the work." The last words are punctuated by you removing your hand, marveling in how he grinds back, whining when there's nothing there.

"Y/N. Don't- Why did you take them out?" Austin's voice sounds minorly unfamiliar to his own ears as he keeps grinding back until you put them back in and brush against where he wants you to, a sigh of relief exiting his body.

"You don't want more? Don't want to be stretched out around my strap on?" The word cock itches in your mouth and dances around but you tamp down on the urge, this is your boyfriend not a client. "Your queen's been so good at prepping you, wouldn't want that to go to waste would we?"

His head shake would be entertaining if you didn't realize he might be sliding into a space he can't handle just yet. It's violent and has you pulling out your hand and your other hand to make him focus on you and before you get the words out he smiles, "green."

Green. He's fine and you move to grab the lube again, coating your hand and the dildo attached to your strap on, watching as his eyes zero in on it. He bites his lip, and you swear you see a bit of drool that has you putting on a bit of a show. "Baby boy? You want your queen to fill you up now? You gonna climb on top of her? Ride her like she's ridden you before?"

What happens next is something you weren't expecting. Austin has been nervous and you've been worried he's going to call this off. It would have been fine and you would have understood wholeheartedly but you wanted to fulfill a fantasy for both of you. Yet here was your nervous boyfriend practically clamoring on the bed to be able to sink himself down on you. You see the muscles in his arms tense as he holds himself up, trying to figure out the best way to do things before you grasp the dildo and nod slowly as if to tell him it's alright. You know he knows to go slow even if he's excitable and you see the tear and the way his face winces just a bit even with the preparation and your free hand moves to wipe those tears away and cup his cheek.

"Good boy, there you go, nice and steady. You've got this. I'm so proud of you. Taking me so well, gonna make you feel so good, baby boy," your murmurs have him humming softly as he looks down at you, love clear as day in his eyes even as they flutter shut. You had told him not to bottom out just yet but he does and nearly shoots off of you when he realizes he just put an obscene amount of pressure on his prostate.

"Fuck. Ma'am. Queen. Y/N," Every word he can think of to be a name for you erupts from his mouth in a whimper, his arms and his thighs shaking. He hasn't come and yet he knows he probably will sooner rather than later.

"What's happening?" You ask, as your hand moves from his cheek down his neck and down to his collarbone as he starts to move himself off of you only to sink back down with a growl. "Color?"

"G-Green. Green Yellow." He forces the words out as he looks at you, watches your hand move down his torso, scratching at his nipples in a fit of minor overstimulation. "Green Yellow."

"Too much?" A simple question as you pull your hand away only to have him grab your wrist and put it close to his cock, whining as you brush that spot inside him again. "You want me to play with your cock, baby boy?

He nods, the words floating away from his brain and making it impossible for him to answer with words. You should tell him you won't do it unless he can tell you what he wants, what he needs but you understand him better than anyone and know what he wants in this moment. He wants to lose himself, you figure. Not completely but just enough that you are completely in control of his pleasure. Your hand wraps around his cock and he cries out a little. Not in pain but in pleasure that has him bouncing as best as he can above you. One of his hands moves to play with your breasts, pinching and kneading your nipple and the breast itself. He can't tell if you're enjoying this, so he figures this will help. You ought to tell him that his sighs and whimpers and how you feel his thighs tighten around your own- not an easy feet but the way his legs are practically splayed even as he rides you- is a wonder to behold that has you dripping onto the bed. You should tell him you're thinking you're likely to come without being touched. You should tell him these things and yet you hold back, choosing to wrap your hand around his cock and slide it up and down, your thumb playing with the slit and earning hiss after hiss and whimper after whimper.

The muscles in his abdomen are tightening and everything seems to be being wound tighter and tighter and tighter the more you look at him. He opens his mouth to finally let words leave it, to finally ask for something he needs desperately. "Wanna come. Please. Help me, let me come, please."

His voice is so wrecked that you feel your own body shudder with an orgasm as your hand tightens around his cock once more. His whines are getting louder, more pitiful as you look up at him and practically coo, "come for me, baby boy. Cover your queen's chest in your come. Paint me all white."

That does it as he shudders and cries out your name, his release coming it spurts over your stomach and your breasts. His body sags and he whines at the overstimulation from him not holding himself up any more. You're not intensely strong but you're strong enough to shift the two of you into a side by side position that allows you to slide out of him, trying not to relish in how he whines at the loss and whimpers at you petting his cheek and his body. Your own legs are shaky but you need to get up and clean up and you start to before Austin lays his whole arm across you and shakes his head. "Stay just- We'll shower in a bit. Take a bath. I don't- I just want you here right now. Wanna watch you play with my come."

Those last words are half slurred and you can't help but crack a small smile as you take his hand and drag it through the mess he's left on your chest. After a moment of him just staring at you, marveling at what you did you take his fingers and suck on them to clean them off. "Think you can handle this playing right now, baby boy?"

"Green."