#if I can’t be perfect/fantastic at something I just. ignore it until it isn’t my issue anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auideas · 2 years

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So, I found you a while ago and thought you guys would never resurface

But I was proven wrong

So I got this story I'm trying to write, yeah? Fantasy magical dystopian, got any ideas you could shoot my way?

Hey, we live to defy expectations! We'd be more than happy to help.

Fantasy magical dystopian prompts is incredibly specific, but AMAZING. Let's get it started:

No one knows why some people lived while others died when the apocalypse came; they suddenly vanished, almost before their very eyes. With 95% of the population gone, the remaining survivors simply attempted to keep living and moving forward. Small communities were built in the ruin of their old world, later to be called “villages.” After some months of establishing the new world order, strange happenings began to take place: weird weather, objects moving on their own, and other such oddities. It’s only on that day when Character A looked up from their dry garden to the heavens, raised an arm, and pulled down with the intent of a god did rain fall from a cloudless sky. Seemingly impossible, the remaining survivors of the human race may have not been human at all, but something more.

The world was perfect. The complicated and seemingly impossible concept of utopia had been achieved. Waste had been reduced to near nothing, energy was renewable, the economy was saved from collapse -- the human race was thriving for the first time in centuries. As it always seems with perfect things, it was too good to be true. This new world isn’t without a massive, dark flaw: to create this utopia, influential humans have enslaved those with the gift of magic, using them to achieve their nefarious means. The concept of “utopia” had been completely bastardized for their own gain. Humans...they never change.

When you live in a dystopia, you learn to use what you can find. Scavenging wasn’t just a side gig now, but a way of life, and this wasn’t more true than for magical botanists and potion-makers. Because they lacked access to their previous supply chains (damn them for shutting down the internet and its associated conveniences), they had to find other creative ways to source materials. Defunct fabric stores, joke shops, herbalists in Chinatown -- you name it, they’d scavenged it. All seemed well and good until some of their spells had, well, unexpected effects due to poor quality substitutions.

History repeats itself, and the world heals in cycles...at least, that’s what they all said when the climate took a turn for the worse. Everything was thrown out of whack in a mere 20 years, and few people could discover the truth of what seemed to be happening. The new world felt almost apocalyptic, but it turns out the world wasn’t ending, but merging. Two planes of existence were slowing melding together: one our own and the other...horrendously fantastic. No one believed the ravings of Character A until the first dragon ripped the sky open and rained fire down from the heavens.

Being a part of a coven after the world all but ended was difficult enough, but having that life be all someone knows makes it just that much harder when they have to leave it. As a part of a coming of age ceremony, Characters A, B, and C are sent on a quest across the country to source materials from the old world: The Munich Manual. However, they were refused reasoning as to why the elders needed the ancient script, citing it as “none of their business” and that they “weren’t old enough to know the truth.” Well, Characters A, B, and C are officially adults now, right? Who’s to say they can’t just open the manual find out for themselves?

The “wall of fish” trending on TikTok some time ago seemed like it was too strange to be true; so many people ignored it and simply kept it in their back pocket as a fun fact to bring up at parties. After all, what’s a better ice breaker than “you heard about those floor fish??” No one expected anything to come of it, simply writing it off as another secret the sea kept hidden. It wasn’t until this wall of fish completely disappeared did anyone take notice, because what it left behind was ten times worse. In this world, sea creatures are connected by a hive mind, and this in combination with morphic fields allowed the creatures to simultaneously alter their body chemistry and release a strong, deadly acid that poisoned almost every water source on Earth, eating the land and leaving little behind. Within five years, the only humans remaining on planet earth are the mountain tribes, sustained through the magical manipulation of their own morphic fields.

Supplies are hard to come by when the world has gone to shit, and that couldn’t be any more true of the world without UPS. The sourcing of rare materials was left for only the most brave and capable. These requirements made Character A’s trips along the New Silk Road that much more bewildering, given their small stature. Perhaps it had to do with the materials they were carrying...it seemed like an awful lot of bottles filled with weird colors, bones, and insect wings for such a little thing.

Being a plain non-magical human in a group of tightly-knit survivors trying to live in the slums of a dystopian city isn’t exactly a cake walk, but if they thought Character A was also magical because they could somehow convince neighboring groups to accept impossibly unfair trades for their own gain, who was Character A to correct them on their mistake? After all, it’s not like Character A would willingly admit that they were just in debate club in high school, not a silver tongued sorcerer.

Not everyone is cut out for living in an apocalyptic situation. Jobs that fit your skills are hard to come by, especially for a mute academic (and a linguist at that). In an effort to pull their weight, Character A becomes an archivist and logs information as best they can from members of the community to document how the old world can inform the new. They decide to start with the elderly who speak a myriad of languages (most were ones Character A could also speak, thank god). As Character A records their stories and words, they fail to realize that what they’re recording aren’t just stories, but spells and incantations with the ability to release something much, much darker if spoken by the right person.

Everyone thought the creatures were destroying the world of their own accord. “It’s simply in their nature,” they’d say. “They can’t control themselves.” Well, that was a bit true in part: someone else was calling the shots, and they certainly didn’t have everyone’s best interest at heart. Who’s to say someone else can’t pull their strings, though?

These should give you a great start, but I’ll be honest in saying that I could have kept going forever! Maybe we’ll have more AUs along the same lines as these in the future~

- Admin M x

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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years

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I'll Be Your Romeo If You'll Be My Juliet

Lucius Malfoy x Male Reader

Word Count: 1911

This was a request from an anon for a Lucius x male reader.

I hope this is everything you wanted from your request anon, if it isn't, feel free to send me another request!

---------

It was time for the annual Yule gathering. The Black family had the honor of hosting it this year, and they had taken every opportunity to remind everyone of that fact.

The heirs, the ones that mattered anyway, had been almost insufferable on the lead up to the yule break.

Lucius had mixed feelings on the whole subject, not that he could let that show to anyone.

Luckily, it looked like his betrothed was of a similar mind. The lovely Andromeda Black had been as quiet as he had been lately. If they had had even the smallest bit of interest in each other, they might have brought their concerns up.

Lucius thought fleetingly of a world where they could be in love. They would spirit themselves away to an abandoned classroom where they could talk uninterrupted about all of the things that were bothering them. They would take comfort in not being alone. It would bring them closer together and they could fall in love all over again.

But reality was a cruel mistress, and rarely allowed for such flights of fancy.

As it was, Lucius and Andromeda were just two teens who had been promised to each other from before they had even been born. There was nothing more between them.

Lucius sighed silently as he exited the floo into the receiving room at the Black Manor.

He barely registered an elf banishing the soot from his dress robes as he moved out of the room.

"Heir Malfoy, a pleasure to have you in our humble home this evening. And of course you as well Lord and Lady Malfoy!"

Lucius nodded at the welcome and stood obediently by his parents' side as he waited for the greetings to end. Sometimes he tired of all the stiff pureblood airs and graces.

After the obligatory back handed compliments they moved off into the party proper. With a last terse command to not embarrass the family name, courtesy of his father, Lucius moved away to see if he could find someone a little closer to his age.

He absently took a glass of sparkling cider from one of the floating trays that dotted the ballroom. The Blacks really had outdone themselves this year. The room was done in shades of white, sliver and blue. It really was stunning, but nothing seemed to be able to knock Lucius out of the numbness he had slipped into.

It had started at the start of that school year with the arrival of a transfer student. The other boy was their age, and the most enchanting creature that Lucius had ever laid eyes on. He had watched his sorting with longing, but the dratted hat had put Y/n into Ravenclaw. It wasn't really the end of the world, Lucius shuddered to think if he had been put into Gryffindor, or worse, Hufflepuff. Unfortunately, Lucius was already betrothed, but even if he wasn't, Abraxas Malfoy would never allow him to sully the Malfoy name with a male partner.

So Lucius had had to swallow his feelings as best he could. It hadn't worked very well, so he had allowed himself to pine from afar just a little.

He was jolted out of his daydream by the object of his thoughts. Lucius inhaled his mouthful of cider at the sight of Y/n.

He looked amazing in his dress robes, dressed up all fancy for the ball. Lucius thought to himself that if this was the cause of his death it would be worth it.

He was aware, once he managed to stop choking, of three things. One, everyone was looking at him, two, his face was probably red enough to shame a Weasley's hair, and lastly, that Y/n had the brightest e/c eyes possible.

He was struck with the awful thought that this was probably the first time that Y/n had known that Lucius existed.

'Well, that was a fantastic first impression,' Lucius thought to himself. He pointedly looked everyone who would meet his gaze straight in the eyes. As he had thought, it was enough to discomfort them into looking away.

Lucius raised his chin and moved off into a different area of the ballroom.

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

Ever since Y/n had realised that Lucius Malfoy was at the party as well, he had been jittery. The other boy was always looking at him. He had been the cause of enough distraction before this, when he was just someone who lurked at the fringes of his awareness while he studied in the school library. Now, Y/n was sure that he would never be getting rid of the image of Lucius in dress robes. How was he ever going to be able to concentrate again?

He shook himself slightly and tried to focus back in on whatever it was that the Greengrass heiress was talking about. He was supposed to be making connections here, maybe paving the way for a betrothal contract. As the first Pendragon to be seen in this and the previous generation, there was a lot of pressure to make the right political connections. A marriage to someone who was already politically powerful in this community would go a long way toward putting them back on the map in this magical community.

It was the Gods eternal joke that he was the only one that could do this. He only had one other relative, and his uncle wasn't exactly all there anymore. His parents had made it clear that this was their only chance to become the powerful family that they had once been.

Sure, potions had made it possible to have a male pregnancy, but it was still looked down on pretty harshly by most purebloods. Y/n had no idea how he was supposed to get his family back to its former glory, when to do it he would have to marry a girl. Why did he have to be gay?

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

Lucius was slowly going out of his mind. He had moved around the party doing his best to ignore Y/n, but he couldn't get him out of his head. The other boy was still standing where he had first spotted him, entirely surrounded by everyone their age.

What was worse was that these were people Lucius had grown up with. He had known these people for his whole life, and it was this that allowed him to see what was happening.

They were all flirting with Y/n.

Lucius was almost certain that some of them, most notably his friends, were only doing it to irritate him and not because they were genuinely interested in Y/n.

He had been shooting furtive looks over at the group for the last half an hour, and still they kept it up. Lucius just didn't know what to do. Oh sure, he knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew that there was no way he could actually pull it off.

For one thing, if he showed his hand by going over there and making a fool of himself he would face serious consequences when he got home. He was sure he would already be in trouble for his incident earlier that night, but if his father heard even a hint of a whisper that his only heir was gay, well, Lucius wasn't sure he would survive that particular punishment.

He was pulled up short at the realisation of where he was. He was in a room with some of the biggest gossips in the magical world, all of which could just about smell weakness. He shot his eyes around the room and realised with a start that it was already too late.

He recognised the look in his fathers eyes when he met them. Someone must have said something about his preoccupation with his classmate to Abraxas. Lucius swallowed, noting his suddenly dry throat.

He looked away from his father, toward Y/n and his friends. There might be a way to salvage this, pretend to have been watching another of his friends. He would still be in trouble for lusting after someone who was not his betrothed, but much less than if it had been the very male Y/n.

There was a commotion over by one of the doors, but Lucius was too busy thinking. He was realising that he was done. He couldn't live like this anymore, and he was done pretending that he could.

He squared his shoulders and moved over to his friends.

"Excuse me, may I borrow Y/n for a moment. We won't be long."

He didn't even bother waiting for a response, just grabbed a hold of him and started off in a random direction. The only thing in his mind was getting as far away from other people so he could have this discussion in peace.

He pulled Y/n out of the ballroom and down hallway after hallway until he decided they were lost enough that only a house elf would be able to find them.

He turned back to the other boy after making sure that the area was empty. They were both panting a little after their impromptu jog.

Y/n was looking at Lucius cautiously.

Lucius surged forward and connected their lips.

They were gasping for breath again when he pulled back.

"You know we can't do this."

Lucius cut him off before he could continue.

"I'm done. I'm done being the perfect heir for parents that don't care to know the real me. I'm done pretending that I'm not head over heels for you. Most of all, I'm done holding back from the things I want just because society wants so badly to tell me no."

He pulled in a deep breath, still standing in Y/n personal space. Neither boy had moved back.

"I want you, Y/n, and I think you've known that for as long as I have. If I haven't missed my guess, you want me too. I'm certainly not alone in all the looks I've sent your way, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't at least find out if you could feel the same way as I do for you."

Y/n sighed and shifted back a step.

"Those are pretty words Lucius, easy to say them here, alone in a secluded corner of someone else's manor, but how will you feel walking into Hogwarts next week, and letting everyone see. How will you feel when your parents cut you off?"

"I'm not totally helpless Y/n, I'll find a way to survive. I know for sure that if I have you by my side there isn't anything that we can't face."

He softly took Y/n's hand and stroked the back with his thumb.

"So what do you say? Can you feel the same way I do?"

Y/n shut his eyes in resignation.

"You know I do."

They stood at the end of their silent hallway for some time, just holding each other.

"You know this will be the second scandal of the night?"

Lucius pulled back to look at Y/n.

"What do you mean?"

Y/n looked at Lucius, shocked.

"What do you mean, what do I mean? Didn't you hear, just before you pulled me out of there, one of the older Blacks ran in and caused quite the scene. By the looks of things Andromeda is missing. From what I managed to gather, she's run off with that muggleborn from Ravenclaw, you know, Tonks-something, or something-Tonks."

#Lucius Malfoy x male reader #Lucius Malfoy #Male reader

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ghoste-catte · 3 years

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I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

#answered #anonymous #writing advice #i guess?#am i qualified to give this?#no #but im doing it anyway

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starkerforlife6969 · 3 years

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Starker - The Beach War

Peter loves the sunshine.

He loves the sand under his toes, the little shore-line waves bumping against his ribs, he loves the sound of gulls swooping low, but he loves the sunshine most of all.

Steve warns him not to spend too much time out in the sun. Steve buys him sunscreen and umbrellas and hats.

But if the damning red crest over the bridge of his nose is anything to go by- Peter takes little heed.

“I’m going to aerobics,” Peter chirps sweetly, pouring coffee into Steve’s mug and reaching for his headband on a Tuesday morning.

His husband, in slacks and a still-unbuttoned shirt, looks up from the morning paper with a small, curious smile. “Didn’t you go yesterday?”

Peter nods, “I like it.”

“Alright. I suppose you deserve to enjoy yourself. Now that I’m officially a ballot candidate, thanks to you.”

Peter smiles warmly, reaching over to kiss Steve’s mouth and wipe the toast crumbs from his husband’s chin. “We all collected those signatures.”

Steve laughs at his modesty. “It’s one step closer to stopping Stark from destroying this town. I won’t rest till it’s done, Pete. Bucky’s coming over today, to help with the campaign.”

“Okay. Well, there’s lasagne in the fridge left over, will you two be alright?”

“Yeah.” His blue eyes run over Peter’s face. “Have you been wearing suncream?”

“Yes,” Peter lies, but is it really a lie? He tries to. He does, at least like, 50% of the time. Maybe 40.

Steve accepts it easily, and kisses Peter again, and then Peter’s out of the door and into the sunshine and free.

***

Class is perfect. Adrenaline-pumping, vibrant, fantastic, and it fills Peter with energy and when it’s over, dripping with sweat as he heads into the cool, air-conditioned bliss of the mall and wiggles his toes in his shoes.

He’s free the whole day.

He’s going to spend it in the water. On the beach.

He buys a danish from the new mall store, and is heading for the automatic doors when it catches his eye.

A familiar face. Or rather, fifteen of that unfamiliar face, splashed across a display for the new colour tvs. Beck. Peter stops despite himself and watches through the glass as fifteen Quinten Beck’s lecture on how environmental restrictions are really just restricting progress.

Peter takes another bite of his Danish and warm icing dribbles down his fingers. He licks it off angrily. Ugh, Beck. He was a dick in college, and he’s an even bigger dick now. What did Peter ever see in him?

He scoffs, turning away, only to come face-to-face with-

Oh. Handsome. Very handsome. Peter can’t help but be a little winded at the tanned skin, groomed hair and expensive suit and then-

Oh. Shit. It’s Tony Stark. Is it? It must be. It looks like him from the papers, and the interviews and- Yes. Yes, it is. The camera’s, already flattering, still don’t do him justice. It’s Tony Stark. Standing right here, in the mall that he had all those trees chopped down to make.

“You seemed drawn to him, and then you scoffed. It doesn’t speak to you?”

Peter blinks. Stark’s voice is lovely. Smooth. Just how it sounds in the adverts. “Oh!” Peter hums, hastily swallowing his mouthful of Danish. Stark’s eyes are roving over him- not even subtly. What is he looking for? Peter shifts a little in his workout gear. These shorts are very short, he must look- there’s probably icing on his lips and- “I don’t- I wasn’t drawn to him.” Peter insists, “I just know him- uh, Beck. I know him in real life.”

“I see,” Stark grins, eyes all amused, “do you have one?”

Peter blinks. He watches Tony’s eyes dip over his form once again. Rest on his lips. Peter licks them reflexively. He knows Tony isn’t married, but- “I do. I’m uh- I’m married. Sorry.”

Tony laughs, and Peter feels his cheeks flush. “I meant: do you have a colour tv? I know you’re married.”

Peter frowns. How is that possible- oh. He glances at his ring and manages a little laugh. “Perceptive.” He hums.

Tony lifts an eyebrow, a little quizzically. “No.” He says slowly, “I know who you are, Peter Rogers. I saw the “Save our Wave” campaign. You and your husband. Smart way to launch. Ocean in the background. You looked….radiant.”

Oh god. Tony Stark knows who he is.

Peter brushes his hair behind his ears and doesn’t know what to say. “Uh...thank you.”

Tony grins. “Good ad. But it won’t be enough. It can’t stop progress.” Tony steps forward, so they’re a little closer than what’s proper, and his voice drops into something lower. His fingers graze Peter’s bare shoulder. “But I’m not sure you want to stop progress, do you, pumpkin?”

Is he talking about his aerobics outfit? Or the fact he was watching colour tv? Or the fact that he’s in the mall, having just finished a mall class, eating a mall-pastry, and watching mall-tv? Despite the fact that he’s supposedly against the mall.

Peter ignores the ripple of goosebumps that spread across his skin. He lifts his nose, but Tony still towers over him. “I do not agree wih Quinten Beck.” He snaps. “I’m sorry, but we do care about the environment. And we’re not going to have our beach destroyed for another mall.”

He pulls away then, pushing past Tony.

“Peter,” Tony says, and he can’t help but look back. Tony stands there, stupidly handsome, hands in his pockets, and his voice is as cool as the ocean-breeze when he says, “If I were married to you, I’d put you in my campaign videos too. You’ve got a face that changes minds, sweetheart.”

Another furious, heated blush, and Peter bumbles out into the sunshine.

Beach. He needs to go to the beach. Stat.

***

Peter’s freckles always make their debut in the LA Summer.

He serves a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade as he, Steve and Bucky take lunch out on the patio.

Bucky and Steve are pressed close together. It’d be odd, if it wasn’t so commonplace. But Peter expects it now. They’re childhood friends. It’s fine, probably. He tries not to think about it too much. Because he knows Steve. And Steve is kind and loyal, and even if he wanted to- he wouldn’t cheat on Peter.

Unfortunately, Peter thinks Steve might want to. More and more lately, now that Bucky’s basically been living here to help with the campaign.

“Thanks, Sweatpea,” Bucky murmurs, as Peter refills his glass.

For the man who’s stealing away his husband, Peter should probably like Bucky less. “No problem, James. Do you guys want more pecan pie?”

“It’s alright, sugar. Steve and I will eat at the community luncheon.”

Peter blinks. He turns to Steve, who looks away bashfully.

“What?” Bucky asks, reading their faces.

“We were invited to the Harrisson’s gala this afternoon.” Peter points out, still looking at Steve’s face, “it’s a great opportunity to raise some funds-”

“It’s a stuck up crowd,” Bucky points out, not incorrectly, “not exactly who we want associated with Steve’s campaign.”

“Right,” Peter hums, because Steve had a choice between him and Bucky, and Bucky’s already won.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Steve says earnestly, reaching his large hand across the table to take Peter’s. Bucky looks away. “I just feel the luncheon has a lot more to offer. You can go to the gala by yourself, can’t you? You’re more than amazing without me dragging you down.”

Not true. Peter thinks, because as much as he loves being free, Steve’s all-American home spun wholesomeness always leaves a trail of admirers.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “You guys have fun.”

He collects the rest of the dishes and takes them inside, unaware that he has a Bucky-shaped shadow until he’s corned next to the kitchen sink.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky says, bowing his head, and Peter half-smiles. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I knew you guys had already-”

“It’s alright.” Peter says softly, “I think he would rather be with you anyway.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to his, ice-blue and frightened and hopeful. “Pete…” he says, voice a little raw. “It’s not…”

“You guys alright in there?” Steve calls from outside.

Peter ducks under Bucky’s arm, and it isn’t very difficult to make his voice bright when he calls back: “Just fine!”

***

The Harrison’s own a ridiculously nice estate, and Peter only feels a little out of place. He’s in the dark blue silks he brought with him to LA all those years ago, and Mr Harrisson greets him warmly at the door.

It’s...better than he thought it would be. It turns out he doesn’t really need Steve. At all, actually. He’s clever and he has his degree and he knows a lot about the environment. People like him. They respond to him. It’s-

“Just look at you,” comes a whistle, and Peter turns slowly to see Tony Stark in a tuxedo.

Fuck. It’s a very tasty sight. Tastier than the crab rolls being handed out, and they were pretty damn incredible.

“You’re just working the room, aren’t you, honey?” Tony drawls, voice dripping with appreciation and something low and dark and-

“I’m uh, I’m trying,” Peter manages, feeling his cheeks flush.

Tony looks like he wants to step closer, but he doesn’t. Peter kind of- maybe a little- wants him too. “And where’s your very lucky husband?”

“Oh, he’s...he’s not here.”

Tony’s eyes light up. “Really? Well, how about you and me get some air?”

The Harrison’s house sits on the beach, and Peter kicks off his shoes and is pulled down onto the sand as easy as breathing.

God, the ocean air. He rolls up his trousers, sinks his feet into the cold, trembling waves.

“Just look at you,” Tony hums, and Peter turns to see he’s being watched, and Tony’s skin looks even better lit by the sunset.

“You said that already,” he points out, feeling bolder, braver, now that he’s out on the beach.

“Well, maybe that’s because I can’t stop looking at you.”

Peter blushes, before stepping into the water a little further. “Are you going to join me? Or do you hate the ocean as much as you claim?”

Tony obligingly toes off his shoes. “Never said I hated the ocean. Don’t get me mixed up with Beck. I just know that sometimes we’ve gotta sacrifice things in the name of progress. Technology. The future.”

Tony pulls off his bowtie, slips off his jacket, and then comes and wades into his knees.

“Gotta sacrifice things,” Peter echoes, “like the ocean. Like trees. Who needs ‘em, right? They only give us oxygen.”

Tony grins at him. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you, Peter? I thought you liked my mall. Or wasn’t that you? In that gorgeous little aerobics get up? Eating one of those danishes- to die for, aren’t they? Wasn’t that you, sighing at a colour tv?”

Peter scoffs because he doesn’t have a comeback, and he glances out at the horizon.

“You were mine, sweetheart, you’d be purring away with that tv at your feet. I’d buy you a hundred if you wanted ‘em. You wouldn’t want for anything.”

Jesus. Peter tries to stifle the flood of arousal that courses through him. “I’d be wanting for a husband that cared about protecting our coast line.” He manages, though it sounds a little weak.

“The coast line,” Tony hums, reaching a hand down to plunge into the water. “The beach. You a surfer?”

“No, I just...I like the beach, it makes me feel…” free “...it’s the beach. It’s nature. It’s not for us to bend and re-shape for another mall, Tony.”

Tony chuckles, “I do like to hear you say my same.”

Peter scowls, and heads back for the sand. A few splashes later, Tony follows. “You can’t...I don’t know, you can’t seduce me into supporting you.”

Tony’s hand grips around his wrist just before Peter reaches his shoes, and he’s looking up into very dark brown eyes, and a very, very appealing mouth. “I’m not trying to change your mind.” Tony murmurs, “I’m just trying to see where it is you stand. You like the mall, you didn’t mind the trees being cut down there, but the beach. The beach is where you have a problem. It’s your line.”

“It-it’-it’s not about me.” Peter stutters, feeling exposed, “My husband is the one running for-”

“And I am trying to seduce you. Have been since I saw you in that advert. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Thought they’d hired a model at first, and then I found out you were married to him. I couldn’t believe it.”

Oh. Warmth buzzes through his skin, flattered and delighted and giddy, Peter doesn’t know what in the name of hell possesses him to say: “He’s not going to be my husband for much longer.”

Tony’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Then he smirks. His hand is still wrapped around Peter’s wrist. “That so?”

A few other guests pull out onto the beach now, and Peter spots Mrs Harrisson in the distance.

“Save our wave, Mr Stark,” he whispers, unable to stop smiling, as he gathers his shoes and heads over.

***

He and Steve have sex that night.

It’s the best sex they’ve had in a long time. Passionate, erotic, and Peter knows why. It’s because he was just with Tony, and Steve was just with Bucky, and they’re both pretending.

Afterwards, still warm from the haze, they look at one another.

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” Steve whispers, voice-choked up, and Peter brushes away his tears.

“Don’t be. Where you are, it’s where I am. You and Bucky are made for each other.”

“You have someone too?” Steve asks. Peter nods. “Okay. Okay, but not till...not till after the campaign. Divorce…” the word makes him jerk a little, and Peter soothes him, “it could rock things.”

“After the campaign,” Peter nods, and they sleep in each other’s arms, and maybe it shouldn’t feel like everything’s going to be okay, but it does.

***

Steve annihilates Tony in the televised debate.

Peter knew he would. Tony is clever and pithy, but Steve is earnest, and kind, and people can see that. They can feel that. Tony handles it as well as he can, but it’s clear by the end of the interview- Steve is ahead.

Peter swims back towards the shore.

He’s still wet as he pads into the mall and heads for the pastry-store.

“I’ll get that,” Tony says, appearing from nowhere and handing over the money before Peter can fish his wallet from his ocean-wet shorts.

Tony’s hand is on the small of his back then, guiding him towards the food court, and soon Peter’s eating his pastry on a plastic red chair, and looking at Tony with wide, innocent eyes.

Tony breaks first.

“So, your husband’s campaign is a little stronger than I thought.”

Peter laughs. The sound seems to make Tony light up, and that just- Peter’s stomach tightens.

“My advisor’s are a little worried.”

“Steve is very good.” Peter agrees, taking another bite.

Tony leans across the table, and his cologne makes Peter want. “I’m better, though, Pete, is the thing.”

“Are we still talking about the campaign?”

“Let’s get dinner.” Tony says suddenly, “please. I know it’s early, but I am burning with it, Pete. I think about you all the time, I can’t keep staking out beaches and malls hoping to run into you.”

“What if someone sees us? What about Steve’s campaign-”

“It’d hurt mine just the same. Who gets the sympathy? The man being cheated on, or the man who slept with a married guy?”

Peter pulls the pastry apart with his fingers. “Just dinner?”

“At my house.”

Peter laughs, scandalised, “dinner at your house? How easy do you think I am?”

“Not easy at all. You’re fucking difficult, sweetheart. Look at what you’re wearing, fuck, it’s like you want to torture me.”

Peter tries not to blush and fails. His voice is gentle though, when he voices his main concern: “And what happens if once you’ve...once we’ve...what happens then? Curiosity satisfied, you might not want to see me anymore.”

Tony reaches across the table to touch Peter’s hand. Peter looks around worriedly, but nobody is paying them any mind.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Tony whispers, more serious than Peter has ever seen him. “Peter, I would never get bored of you.”

“It’s happened before,” Peter says weakly, and doesn’t realise how true it is until it’s spoken aloud. The pain for the divorce yet to happen ripples across his chest. Oh god, where has this been? Someone loved him once, and then found someone else-

“I’m gonna crush him.” Tony vows, voice vicious, as soon as he spots the glitter of Peter’s tears. “I’m going to destroy his campaign-”

“No, no,” Peter insists, sniffling, and managing a small smile. “Steve is- he’s a good guy, Tony. A good guy with a good cause, you don’t need to,” Peter huffs fondly, “you don’t need to protect my honour.

“Alright,” Tony says, a little bit like he’s unconvinced, so Peter squeezes his hand.

“I want to have dinner with you. I want to feel your hands on me- I- I think about it all the time. And afterwards, I want...more.” Peter looks down at their hands. “You said you’d get me anything.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony whispers, “I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

***

The mall gets made.

In the next town over. The beach is saved. Steve wins.

They divorce.

Steve hugs him. Bucky hugs him. There’s a lot of crying, but then Peter’s being picked up in a ludicrously nice hot-red car, and there’s Tony and kissing and a house in Malibu right on the sand.

There’s a wedding, and teasing, and arguments. There’s sex. A lot of sex. There’s swimming and living and life under the sun.

There’s a thousand things. A million things.

And every day with Tony promises more.

When Peter wakes up, ready for the beach, Tony slathers him with suncream and for some reason it doesn’t feel like he’s trapped.

Maybe it was never about the suncream.

He still loves the beach. And the sunshine. And the gulls swooping low and the sand under his toes, but-

But he doesn’t need it to feel free. He feels free right here, in bed, tangled up with Tony and the promise of more.

#starker #physical inspired #background Steve x peter #no cheating #politician tony #80s setting #aerobics #Peter parker #Tony stark #Tony x peter

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 36: Entwine

"But Harry, we just think you'd be so much happier if you-"

"Found someone to settle down with," Harry finished for Hermione. At this point he'd heard the lecture so many times he could recite it in his sleep.

She sighed, "We just worry-"

"That I'm lonely and miserable," Harry said. "I know."

"We love you, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I know," Harry said, and it was true he did know, otherwise he would have probably stopped being friends with them by this point. "I love you guys, too. But you have to stop setting me up on dates."

Hermione stared calculatingly at him, "Two weeks," she said. "I'll give you two weeks reprieve and if you've started dating someone by then we'll leave it."

-------

He was still stewing on this conundrum when he stopped in to pick up a cup of coffee and (hopefully) a pastry the following morning.

"Morning, Potter," Malfoy called over his shoulder without even looking up to see him.

"That's going to bite you in the arse someday," Harry said as he stepped up and rested his elbows on the counter.

"I've told you," Malfoy said, turning around and handing him a cup of coffee that Harry knew would be made perfectly and a pastry bag that had Harry's mouth already watering, "You have a very distinct magical aura. I know it's you."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was secretly charmed. "When you say things like that I completely understand how you and Luna get on so well."

Malfoy rolled his eyes but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that he got on pretty well with Malfoy, too. "Hey," Harry said, opening his mouth to speak in true Griffyndor fashion without hesitating to think. "You're single aren't you?"

(Read more below the cut)

Malfoy groaned, "Not you, too. My friends are always harping on me about dating. I'm perfectly fine-"

"Right, yeah. Of course you are," Harry hastened to add, "I am, too, obviously and that's the point."

"Potter drink your coffee, you're making even less sense than usual," Malfoy said.

"No, listen. Pretend to date me. Please, Malfoy, I'm literally begging. I will do anything to get my friends to stop setting me up on horrible dates."

Malfoy stared at him for a long moment, "That's an interesting idea, Potter."

"It's a fantastic idea," Harry assured him. "I promise to be the best fake boyfriend you've ever had."

"What would it involve?" Malfoy asked, slowly.

Harry thought for a minute, "We could go on 'dates' and just, you know, hang out; we can have dinner together, go to quidditch games, whatever you want. And then when we're out with friends we'll just sit together, maybe hold hands or something? I haven't thought it through yet but what do you say?"

Malfoy tilted his head to the side, "I'd say you're in luck, Potter, because I had a really bad date last night with a bloke that Pansy tried to set me up with. So, let's do it. Merlin knows I could use a break."

"Done," Harry said, grinning widely at the other man, "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

The corner of Malfoy's, Draco's, lips tilted up, "Sure. Where did you have in mind?"

"Do you like Italian?"

Draco nodded.

"Perfect. I get off at 4:00 today, do you want to meet here?"

"Sure," Draco replied with a little grin.

Harry smiled back, "Thanks for the coffee and the pastry. And I'm looking forward to see you tonight, sweetheart."

Draco laughed, "Disgusting. Get out of here you prat."

Harry placed a hand over his heart as he backed toward the door, "You have the sweetest way with words."

The other man shook his head but he was smiling as widely as Harry.

This was clearly the best idea that Harry had ever had.

--------

This was the worst idea Harry had ever had. Not because he and Draco didn't get on, but because they did.

Within two weeks Harry was spending more of his free time in Draco's company than out of it. They'd gone out to eat together eleven times (in thirteen days!), they'd taken Teddy to the park together, and Harry stopped by the coffee shop twice a day now and arrived half an hour early so he could spend time talking to Draco before he had to leave for work.

Yes, he was getting up early just so he could have more time to spend with Draco.

He was in so much trouble.

And it was only going to get worse since they were attending pub night tonight with all of their friends and they'd agreed that holding hands, casual touching, pet names, and the like were all acceptable for the evening.

Harry was standing outside the pub, waiting for Draco and trying to get himself under control, when the other man appeared.

"Ready?" Draco asked, giving him a small but genuine smile that had Harry's stomach doing back flips.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding once to himself.

Draco held out his hand, wiggling his fingers for Harry to take.

He reached over and slid his fingers through Draco's, their hands fit perfectly together, and Harry thought he might be having a heart attack. Holding someone's hand shouldn't feel this good.

He was absolutely, entirely fucked.

"Alright?" Draco asked.

"Yeah," he answered but his voice came out all funny and breathless, and honestly, if he could have punched himself in the face he would have. He cleared his throat, "Yeah, fine," he said. "Let's go."

And as if holding Draco's hand hadn't been enough, once they got inside the pub, Draco sat next to him and rested his hand at the top of Harry's spine, his fingers trailing lightly over Harry's neck and wrapping around the curls at the base of his skull.

It was like he was in a bubble; conversations were happening all around him, people were laughing and joking, people were probably telling all sorts of stories but he didn't process a word.

Slowly, he forced himself to relax, leaning into Draco's side and letting his hand slip over to rest on Draco's knee.

The other man gave his neck a gentle squeeze in response as he continued his discussion with Luna.

"Harry," Hermione said, waving a hand to get his attention.

"Yeah?" he asked, perking up and trying to ignore the tingles racing up and down his spine as Draco's fingernails scratched lightly at his scalp.

"You were a bit lost there, mate," Ron said.

He smiled, "Sorry, just a bit out of it."

"That's alright," Hermione said, "I was just saying that you and Draco seem to be really good together."

"Yeah," Harry said weakly, glancing over at the other man who was quite engrossed in a conversation with Pansy and Luna. "Yeah," he repeated. "He's really something."

Hermione nodded, "You seem to be good for each other."

"Yeah," he said, feeling a bit sick because they did seem good for each other, they did somehow make sense. "Sorry, could you excuse me for a minute?" he asked as he stood up and fled the table, making his way quickly to the restroom.

He all but ran into a stall and locked it behind him, barely managing to stop himself from banging his head against the wall. This wasn't supposed to have happened. He wasn't supposed to have fallen for Draco Malfoy.

"Harry?" a voice called.

He held his breath, maybe if he just didn't make any noise Draco would go away and he could finish having his crisis in peace.

"I can see your shoes," the other man said as he knocked softly on the door. "Let me in?"

Reluctantly, Harry opened the stall and made room for Draco to slip in with him.

"Do you want to tell me why you've been acting like an insane person escaped from the psychiatric ward tonight?"

He winced, tried to think about what he could say, how he could deflect, but what came out was, "I don't want to pretend."

Draco's brow furrowed, "This was your idea," he said. "And if you wanted to stop all you had to do was say so."

"No," Harry said, reaching out to stop the other man from leaving. "That's not-" he huffed and entwined his fingers with Draco's. "I mean that I don't want this to be pretend."

Draco stared at him uncomprehendingly so Harry continued, "Holding hands with someone has never felt like this. Going on dates with someone has never been this much fun. I want to be around you all the time, even when you're making me crazy."

"I don't understand."

He sighed, "I can't pretend with you because none of this is pretend for me any more."

Draco blinked once, then he leaned forward and caught Harry's lips with his own. The hand not holding Harry's came up to cup his cheek and tip he head down so he could kiss him more easily and Harry's body lit up like a firework.

He pushed Draco back a step until his back hit the wall and pressed his body against the other man's. Harry's body had been made for this. Every neuron was firing away happily, every atom of his being singing with joy at the other man's proximity.

Draco's fingers threaded through Harry's hair as his tongue flicked over Harry's bottom lip. With a soft moan, Harry opened his mouth, his tongue reaching out tentatively to touch and twist with the other man's.

They might have continued on like that all night, were it not for the outer door to the restroom slamming open as a drunk man staggered in.

Draco pulled back, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. He put a finger over Harry's lips and pressed a kiss to his nose, and Harry wasn't quite sure how he hadn't simply melted into a puddle of goo yet.

Once the man left, Draco removed his finger and pressed one more gentle kiss to Harry's lips. "This isn't pretend for me either," he murmured.

Harry smiled, "No more pretending."

"Honesty about where we're at from here on out," Draco added with a smile.

And it was a promise they kept until the day they died. They both had to wear masks for the outside world but they never hid from one another.

-----------

Day 35: Tears | Day 37: Secrets

#thanks for the prompt anon!#day 35 #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #entwine #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #falling in love #my writing

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yandere-mc-yt · 3 years

Note

y’ALL TRYNNA MAKE ME SIN 😩😩😩 I just wanna ask you to write out that prompt with psychic darling, techno and chat soooooo bad because it looks so rndmdjskdjdj 🤌🏾 ✨perfect✨ kdndkdkdkdjdjdjd not me having a brainrot 💀☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

It's okay! Lets have brainrot together! Also I hope Techno isn't too ooc, I just think he'd be really repressed and awkward in these kind of situations lmao.

Thermae

Technoblade & Mind Reader GN!Reader

Warnings: Yandere Themes, obsessiveness, delusions mentioned, disassociation(?), kidnapping mentioned, Stockholm syndrome implied, animalistic behavior, NSFW, dubcon, size difference, unsafe sex, rough sex, mild painful sex, body worship implied, praise kink, retracted consent, ruined orgasm(?), humiliation kink(?), sex with an audience(?), ooc(?), idk canon inaccuracies probably, gn!deader

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡

pretty!!

EEE E E

shut the hell up some of us want to hear techno think

lovenoblade? technolover? FUCK what are we calling him when he stares at them like that??

shut uuuup

You don't look up from pile of clean clothes you're sifting through, trying to pick out what to wear after your bath. Technoblade staring at you from where he is by the door, not having made a move since he allowed you to enter the room. At least he isn't speaking-

You dropped some rolled up socks. It rolled under the bed and you get on your hands and knees to reach under the bed for it. Suddenly Technoblade is behind you and you yelp cutely-

Suddenly you're moaning softly and bent over on the bed. Your captor's lover's hand is on your hips and he's grinding against you. Your underwear is somehow soaked through and you're whining for Techno to take you. He swiftly tugs off your underwear and-

You look up at Technoblade, who looks back at you, acknowledging your attention. You looked cross. "Just because you're not thinking in words, doesn't mean I can't see what you think, Techno."

OOOOOO

oh noooo lmao

LOL imagine getting caught like that couldn't be us

rip

damn I wanted to see how bad this fantasy would have been

"Sorry-"

"Sorry," Techno says out loud as he takes his eyes off of you. You sigh as you toss the clothes yoy want onto the bed and stuff the rest back into the drawers. You'll fix that later if he doesn't get to it first. At least he had the gall to feel some bit of shame.

You turn your body to him and shrug. "It's whatever.... let's just go take a bath before bed."

You ignore how another brief flash of lewd thoughts and fantastical scenarios pass through his mind as you move past him towards the bathroom he had built for you. You also ignore the teasing from the Chat about how the piglin hybrid's home definently didn't have a place to bathe before and that he is a "stinky pig boy" and "stinknoblade". You didn't want to thank him but you felt like you had no choice because honestly.... he made you a custom bathroom that looked like it belonged in a palace. It had felt rude not to thank him, despite these circumstances.

You inhale the steam of the luxious looking bathroom and put your clothes down on a small side table near the massive walk in tub of hot water. You had moved over to the edge and was going to take off your shirt when the anxious boot clacking of your keeper reminded you that you were unfortunately not alone. You click your tongue back at him as you glance back at him. He looks away like he always does and you practically rip your clothes off before getting in.

He looks again when he doesn't hear the water sloshing around anymore. His expression is unreadable but you can hear what he's thinking.

"So pretty lovely looks soft smells good fuck- cute.... I wonder if you'll like the soap I got this time. Its peonies."

You hum as you sink a bit lower in the water, trying to hide your coloring cheeks.

"Yeah, I think peonies smell good." Technoblade makes a face and you have to swallow your smile. "Thanks- now get in here. I want this to be over with."

He nods mutely as he starts to undress and this time its your turn to look away. You sigh as you feel the water move and flinch when you feel his heat on your backside. He isn't even touching you yet.

ugh why is he waiting for permission again

lol whats with the gentleman act

dude they're literally already used you doing this get it over with

y'all better shut up this is like character development or something

i wanna touch they look all soft agaiiin

oooo yea!! touch them

Omgeee body worship kink??

touch them

TOUCH THEM

You let out a shaky sigh and turn around and make eye contact. He has the soap in one hand and the sponge you like in the other. You stand up in the water and exposed yourself to him. Its incredible difficult to ignore the way his pupils dialate when you're still making eye contact.

HOLY COW

isn't it too warm in here for (Y/N)'s nipples to get hard??

NAKED POG

oh my god You know they're practically begging for it now....

Techno swallows audibly and practically slams the bar of soap into the sponge, making an audible wet noise and aggressively lathers them together, looking away again. It makes you jump a bit but you don't say anything. Neither of you do and you almost prefer it that way. Once the sponge has been violently soaped up enough he starts washing you. You don't move and he doesn't stop on any part pf your upper half. It made you think of those old erotic stories of royalty being bathed by a personal servant. You didn't like it.

.....Right now you really wish you two were capable of being normal. Or that any part of your relationship was.

After your front and back have been scrubbed down, you quickly dip back into the water amd rinse yourself off. You look down at your body in the water and hum as you see another fleeting fantasy go past Technoblade's mind.

You're touching him, hands simply on his chest and pressed close to him. You're looking up at him frightened anxiously for a moment before moving away and wading towards the little shelving around an edge in the bathing pool. You flush as you climb onto it and sit. You spread your legs-

You look up at him for a split moment before looking away. You feel shakey and sick, kind of like you're about to throw up. Your gut twists and you press your thighs together on instinct. Shit.

No.

"No-" You swallow as you completely turn your back to Techno. You hear the water move a bit as you assume he's straightening up, you know he's looking directly at you. He's thinking too fast for you to properly hear his thoughts and you refuse to tune into what the Chat is saying right now.

You need to think-

You're on top of him in one of his blouses. Its so big on you but you like it and you liked the way Techno looked at you when you wore it. Technoblade's hands were on your hip and you scoff becuase you didn't want it there. You flushed a bit and took one of them with your fingers and moved it underneath the blouse to your bare stomach. You could feel the way your lips stretched into a goofy smile when he somehow flushed darker than you and his pupils blew up. It actually made you laugh a little. It felt like a little victory. The hand still on your hip twitched.

"I uh..." You bite your lip between your grin. "I like it when your hands are here. They're so warm and they make me feel good sometimes."

He stares and you can hear his thoughts.

"... Makes me feel safe...... so please..."

You blink back the tears but can't stop the shudder and whimper that comes from that memory. Technoblade stands behind you as you realize where you are now. You're stand before the pool shelving and its like your stomach folds in on itself as you whine and stumble back in the water, bumping into him. You both flinch from the sudden skin to skin contact and you feel the overwhelming urge to start wailing.

Technoblade makes a noise as if he's taking a deep breath and you know its over. You pull away from him as soon as his has touches your shoulder, bumping roughly into the shelving. With a grimace, you climb up onto the shelving and spread your shakey legs.

You can't even catch his thoughts whwn he freezes up and the Chat roars.

Holyshitholyshit holySHIT

BRO???

ANOTHER WIN FOR THE HORNY THOUGHTS LETS GOOOOO

Fuck this is so hot what the fuck fuck babe

The cooler water that resides at the edges splash out of the tub and against your backside from the force of him moving so suddenly. Technoblade makes a noise as he hovers over you. His clawed hands grip the edges of the pool so hard you can hear the wood creak. He doesn't say anything as you try to meet his eyes. Visions of all the ways he wants to fuck you right here flash through his mind and it makes you want to close your legs. You end up pressing your thighs against his and you both gasp.

You bite your lip. "Soap." He blinks dumbly and you almost change your mind about all of this. "The scentless soap," you try to clarify. "I need to prep myself."

The Chat chatters loudly as Techno moved away. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath as he returns to the water and reslots himself between your legs. You take the bottle from him and try to get comfortable as he uncomfortably stares directly at your groin. Already used to this scenario, you tune him out as you pop the bottle open and pour the slick substance onto yourself. You then put the bottle to the side and slide your hand down.

This isn't the first time you've had to stretch yourself (especially since your sexual partner couldn't- not with those sharp fingertips) and far from the first time you've taken the Blade so your fingers slip in with little resistance. You shudder and remind yourself to hate how he ruined you as you skip adding a second finger and go straight for three.

You hear the creak of the wood on the edge of the pool again but ignore looking up or at Technoblade as you keep fingering yourself until you're sure you're done. As soon as your fingers were out, his cock was slapped against your inner thigh. You yelp and look up at him.

He looks down at you as he finally puts his hands on you. You hiss when he drags your ass against the shelving to pull you closer.

"Sorry-" he thinks before opening his mouth to say it out loud, but you interrupt him. You grab him by the forearm as he has your thighs and lean foward a bit, biting your lip. You suck in a breath before letting out a whine.

"Shut the fuck up- stop fucking thinking and fuck me baby."

Being so used to hearing other's people thoughts without tuning them out (even now in these current times with everything Technoblade this accursed SMP has put you through), you aren't prepared to be sp overwhelmed by whatever the hell happens in your captor's head that makes you blackout for a moment. Its like you blink and whatever sexually charged energy you had before is replaced with fear.

Somewhere in the milliseconds after you said those words, Technoblade pushed you back roughly against the shelving and the edge of the pool and was now almost balls deep inside of you. You feel the pain blossoming against the back of your head apart of your back and yelp when you feel him fill you up oh so fucking good.

Its too much.

"Tech-" You make an ugly noise as he thrusts deeper somhow. Fuck- too much.

Whatever you were trying to get out is lost on your tongue as he starts fucking into you with total abandon. Its so good and bad and great and uncomfortable and painful-

The force of his movements rocks you into the edges of the pool and makes the cooled off water splash around and hit you in the face. You've let go of his arms, instead trying to brace yourself against the shelving the best you can with no way to get a proper grip. All you can do is whine and gasp.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry fuck"

"(Y/N)," comes out in a growl and you whimper. You don't know when he leaned closer. Technoblade's tusk scratch the junction between your jaw and neck. You take this opportunity to grab onto him again and moan high.

He rocks hard into you and its so much better now- fuck you can feel every inch of him. It makes you pull yourself closer to him and sob.

"Techno- Techno Techno Techno," he groans low and licks a hot strip against your neck. You breifly wonder if he's licking sweat off or left over water that was dripping down from the bath you were having a few minutes ago. You don't wonder much longer as you feel the twist in your gut from earlier tighten. You sob again.

"No no no no no," you gasp as you hold on tighter and he gets rougher. "Fuck, Techno baby please please please..."

Miraculously, the beast hears your prayers but he doesn't slow down. He pulls back and pushes you away completely. You almost don't catch yourself against the pool's edge. He's still in you for amoment more before pulling out with a wince and you cry out.

You feel dissatisfaction start to replace the lust in your head but its quickly snuffed out when Technoblade grabs you and flips you over on the shelving. He shoves you hard onto your knees with your elbows over the edge as he reenters you from behind and you shout. The change in position, depth and temperature catch you completely off guard and interupts the flow. You don't feel as aroused as you were before. You're sore.

"T-Techno?" You try to turn around to look back at him but he hits something deep inside of you hard. You put a knuckle between your teeth. "Techno? Techno please it hurts now please Techno!"

He gets even rougher and you yelp when your knees hit the wall of the pool. A shadow is cast over you and water from Technoblade's body drips down onto you as he goes full throttle and rails you like this. Fuck.

"Techno Techno Techno please love-" you manage to get out before his thrusts take your voice away. You're belly feels warm again and you sob a bit defeated. You're heads clear again and you cry as your mind races. You can't hear his thoughts properly even now- too jumbled up in the midst of him borderline mindlessly fucking you. You however can hear the Chat clearly once again. It makes your gut twist disgustingly deliciously.

Fuck baby you're doing so good

while crying is sexy can you plz go back to making those cute noises k thanx

they're not enjoying it anymore don't be fucking rude :/

Roughnoblade /neg

(Y/N) oh poor baby they're crying!!

Techno you're being too rough damn bitch

hey you're okay love you're okay plz don't cry....

Gods we're so sorry but you DO look so fucking hot like this

fuck I bet you're going to bruise so nice

Yeah techno is going to be staring at them until they heal up lmao

You bite your lip and just take it until that twisted feeling snaps and you cum like this. Techno rides out your orgasm before you feel him get bigger (or you tightned in discomfort) and he spills into you. You whimper when he pulls out and you feel the hot cum start to slide out of you. Unfortunately for you, your lover doesn't leave you bent over the cold bathing pool's edge like that for howver long you wished to and readjusts your limp form before he finishes cleaning you. You sniffle as he takes ypu out of the water and bundles you up in the softest towel he has.

"It hurt." You said simply and Technoblade glances up at where he was now kneeling by your legs, helping you put on your underwear. He looked almost guilty.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

"G̸̨͍͍̮͙̝͍̲̾͆̌̅̓̾̕Ȏ̵̡̡̳̣̟͕͍͍̘̱͗͝͝Ô̸̪̯̰̅͗͠D̷̟̘̦͕̼͈̻̏͗̋̂̿̔̕͘," he thinks.

You wonder if he still hopes you don't hear him.

#anon ask #yandere technoblade #yandere dsmp #dsmp smut #dsmp smutshot

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Keep Away

Yandere!Bakugou x reader

It’s a special occasion, so Bakugou decides to wine and dine you. It’s too bad for him that you’re intent on ignoring him.

Warnings: yandere, dark themes, lime, forced orgasm, minor food kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, light violence

A/N: I woke up at like three in the morning and decided to finish this. I saw a bad ending to a certain cyberpunk bl dating sim, and thought “would be kinda cool to be force fed cake,” but then it didn’t really turn into all that much cake feeding which is probably for the best. Who’s to say. It’s just kinda fun to say “it came to me during a cyberpunk bl dating sim bad end,” rather than, “it came to me in a dream.” Also, I’m so sorry if you read this and go “ew strawberry cake isn’t my jam. Belgium chocolate 5evah!!!!1!!” but if you do happen to like strawberry cake, I got you fam.

“So you’re not talkin’ to me now, is that it?”

You keep your gaze low, careful not to even lock eyes with your captor—because no, you’re not talking to him, you’re not looking at him, you’re not even going to acknowledge his existence. It’s your verbal keep away. You’ve decided that it’s the worst possible punishment for Bakugou—ignoring him. You’ve tried just about everything: screaming at him, hitting him, crying to him, begging for your release, and it’s all given you nothing. You figure, why be anymore of a source for his entertainment?

“You should at least thank me for cookin’ you a proper meal.”

From across the candlelit table, Bakugou uncrosses his arms, glaring from the admittedly very well-made plate, to you. He clicks his tongue when you don’t respond, then moans around a mouthful of pad-see-ew, just like he knows you can’t stand.

“It’s so good, baby. Practically melts on my tongue…”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at that. It would be different if it wasn’t his food he complimented, but that’s Bakugou for you. Insolent, prideful, and terrible.

Bakugou stabs his chopsticks into his plate. “You’re not wearing the dress I bought. Not good enough for you?”

You didn’t even try it on. You want to tell him, but that would only spur him on. Bakugou likes it when you challenge him. He always gets that stupid smirk on his face, that daring look in his eye—always like he’s ready to bend you over and fuck you into submission. More often than not, that’s what ends up happening.

“Your ass would look great in it,” he says before taking another mouthful. You can feel his crimson glower scorching your skin, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You can wear whatever you want, though. I want your ass even in those sweats.”

You exhale and lean back back in your chair. He really has to be so vulgar, doesn’t he? Well, that’s not gonna make you crack.

“Yeah, I won’t force you in it. Not yet, at least.” Bakugou grins at the thought, chewing loudly. “I wouldn’t mind playing a little dress up with my doll.”

Your lip twitches, and you hope he doesn’t see. You have to squeeze your thighs together and ignore impending thoughts of Bakugou’s hands on you—first tearing your clothes off, then slowly, sensually zipping that tight, black dress up. You can’t keep from imagining his lips grazing your back, hands running through your hair, him pressing into your backside…

“Need some water, babe? You’re looking a little flushed.”

Your eyes snap to Bakugou’s and your cheeks warm even more when you realize he’s just caught you fantasizing. At least he doesn’t know what you were thinking about. Christ, you could only imagine the field day he’d have with you if he found out you ever thought about him like that.

After you’ve spent plenty of time hating yourself for having these thoughts, you’ve come to the conclusion that it has to be natural. In a psyche class you’ve taken, you learned a bit about Stockholm syndrome, and though you’re sure you’re definitely not falling in love with your captor, it’s perfectly fine that you occasionally think about him in the lusty kinda way. Admittedly, he’s earned it with the amount of orgasms he’s given you since you’ve been taken. But he hasn’t earned your love. Definitely not.

Bakugou stands, folding his napkin onto the table, and walks over to the ice chest he has on standby. He’s wearing his red dress shirt, paired with that white floral vest and nice slacks. You want to know what the occasion is for, but you won’t ask. You’re definitely underdressed, and a part of you wishes you had put on that dress he picked out for you.

You close your eyes and empty your mind of such stupid thoughts.

“How about some champagne?” Bakugou flips a knife out and cuts the cork off with a pop!, making you jump a little bit. He glides over to you, puts his hand on your shoulder, leans in, and fills the crystalline flute sitting on the table. He smells like spice and that natural burnt toffee aroma he has. It’s so nice that you can’t help but lean into him just a teeny bit. And he notices.

“You’re gonna eat somethin’ for me, yeah?” he whispers lowly into your hair before kissing your temple. You freeze while he moves down your neck, brushing a finger along the opposing side of your face, coaxing your head to turn. “Or are you not in the mood for Thai? We can always skip straight to dessert.”

Bakugou dips down to kiss you, but you turn so he misses and kisses your ear. He growls out a sigh and you clench your hands into fists. You’re waiting for it—for him to lose his cool. You don’t know why he’s trying to act kindly to you, but that’s sure to end at any moment, and when it does, he’s going to feel guilty. You’re planning on exposing him as the monster you’re always accusing him of being.

“I’m serious, I made cake,” he says, a slight edge in his voice. He twirls a finger around a strand of your hair, tugging it so you face him. “Your favorite. Strawberry cream frosting, and it tastes fucking fantastic.”

Bakugou’s gaze drops down to your lips before finding your eyes. “I could feed it to you—have you lick that sweet cream right off the tips of my fingers.”

Your scowl tightens on him. He smirks.

“Your lips always look the prettiest when they’re wrapped around something. I’m startin’ to really like that idea.”

“Why?” you bite out, because you can’t take it anymore. You’re either going to die from curiosity or die from embarrassment when he inevitably undresses you and finds out just how much his teasing gets to you, and you won’t let him have that.

Even still, Bakugou looks as triumphant as ever because you gave him what he wants: your attention.

“Why what, huh?”

“Why the dress!” You bark, resolve out the damn window. “The meal, the champagne, the cake?! Why are you trying to be so nice to me all of a sudden?”

“I’m not trying to be nice. I am nice.” Bakugou rolls his eyes as if he’s explaining something simple to a child.

“No, you’re not!” You insist. “You’re...you’re…” Shock sets in and your shoulders grow rigid. He couldn’t possibly be...but if he is...he’d be absolutely daft to think you’ll say yes. “You’re not proposing to me, are you?”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s eyes widen. You definitely caught him off guard, and you could melt from the steaming blaze in your cheeks. “You want me to put a rock on those pretty fingers of yours? Make an honest man out of me?”

“No! No!” You exclaim on a head shake. “I just thought...with the whole atmosphere-“

“Princess,” he interrupts, taking your hand into his. He brings the back of your wrist to his lips, and for a moment, you think you could be right about him proposing after all. At least, until he speaks again. “We ain’t gonna get hitched ‘til you’re good and knocked up—at least four months in, too. That way, there won’t be a chance in hell you can skip out on me.”

There won’t be a chance in hell he will knock you up with your IUD in, so good luck to him on that endeavor. It’s not like he doesn’t know about it, either. There’s a reason why he’s never been hesitant to enter you unwrapped. Although, considering what he just said, you don’t believe he’d be any different if the circumstances were different.

Your lips curl into a snarl. “Then what’s going on?!”

“You seriously don’t know?” He scoffs, then leads your hand to your champagne flute. Once you take it, Bakugou tells you he’ll be right back, and you down the drink. You let the bubbles wash down your throat and quickly take a bite of noodles before he sees. You sigh. They really do melt on your tongue. Bastard.

Before you know it, the faint smell of burning wics envelope your space, and all the lights in the room besides the candles on the table dim. Then, there’s a cake placed in front of you—pink, with intricate, white designs lining its frosted edges. You count the candles and there are exactly the same amount of years you’ve been on this earth, plus one—no, not plus one.

You look up to Bakugou for an explanation. He’s simply grinning down at you, looking proud.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Bakugou kisses the top of your head. “Make a wish.”

Absently, you blow the candles out, but you don’t make a wish, because your brain is too busy doing mental math. On your last birthday, you’d gone on a date with Hitoshi Shinsou. He took you to a cute, little café, bought you a coffee and a tiny cake. He’d ended the night with one of the shyest, sweetest kisses you’ve ever received. Not even four days later, Bakugou took you. You never got to thank Shinsou for that perfect day.

The hair on the back of your neck rises with the sudden realization that you’ve been with Bakugou for nearly an entire year. That’s one year of your life ripped away from you. One year where you haven’t made any progress achieving your dreams. One year that you’ll never get back.

“What’d ya wish for?” Bakugou asks, but you hardly hear him due to the scathing fury that rings in your ears and burns your back. You’re unsure of what you should say or how you should react; you already pulled the silent treatment and you think you’re far too livid to go zipping your lips again.

There’s only one thing you can do: go absolutely batshit crazy.

“I hate you!”

With a quick shuffle, the cake is splattered on the table, your plate flies across the room, and chopsticks are in your hand, aiming for Bakugou’s eyes. It’s too bad for you that Bakugou either expects it, or his reflexes are just so good that he catches you by the wrist before you can stab him. You’re immediately twisted around, chest on the table, arm pinned to your back, and his erection pressing into your ass.

“Yeah? You hate me?” Bakugou’s voice is erratic, husky, dripping with lust. He climbs on top of you, grinds into your behind, and hisses, “wanna say that again?”

“Let me go, asshole!” You below and try to buck him off of you, which only encourages him to pull your arm tighter, forcing you into paralysis. You grit your teeth while tears sting your lower lashes. The only weapon you have is your voice, and that’s always proven ineffective against him in the past. Still, you can’t stop yourself from yelling. “It’s been a goddamn year! I’m sick of being your prisoner!”

“Is that right?” Bakugou shifts, and you hear the sounds of metal clanking. You know instantly that he’s taking off his belt. You writhe as much as you possibly can, fearing a lashing. He hasn’t ever really hit you before, and though getting him to the point had been your end goal, taking the belt is a whole other level of pain you’re not willing to endure.

“Katsuki,” you pant, desperate. “Please, no. Please don’t. It’s...it’s my birthday!”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Bakugou releases your wrist, and goes for your hair instead. He yanks you back so that his chest presses against your back. His lips are against the junction of your shoulder and neck as he growls, “after everything I’ve fuckin’ done for you? Ungrateful little slut.”

He pulls your sweats down, cupping your ass roughly with his large, calloused hands. They feel good—his rough touch against your soft cheeks—and despite feeling fearful for the state of your ass, you can feel yourself getting aroused. “I really gotta put you in your place today of all days?” He squeezes your ass tight and possessive, like he owns it, and in the moment, you can’t really say that he doesn’t.

“No,” you cry and god you’re pathetic. You had this entire plan set up and now it’s barreling out of your control. As his lips graze your shoulder, you let out a sigh and say, “the cake was really, really pretty, Katsuki. I’m sure I would’ve loved it. I’m sorry I did that. I just…”

“Just what?” He rasps against your neck before his hot tongue draws a long line across your skin, making you shiver in response.

“I was just...overwhelmed,” you admit. “Our anniversary-“ you choke out, the words sour on your tongue, but you manage to make it sound sweet-“is just around the corner. I wasn’t prepared...I don’t have a whole lot of resources to do something special for you…”

Katsuki Bakugou sure is a lot of things, but he’s not a moron. You’re positive he can read your facade like a book and he’s certainly not one to play along. .

“Oh yeah? You wanna do something for me?” He sucks in your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling playfully. You mewl as Bakugou reaches around your body, large fingers moving down the front of you and sliding down your pubic bone. He dips two fingers between your lips, swiping smugly at the traitorous puddling at your core. “Is this really what gets you off, sweetheart? Lying to me just so I get a little rough with you?”

“N-no.” You try to sound stern, sure of yourself, but Bakugou is light to the touch, fingers barely teasing your sensitivity. You catch yourself grinding into them, directly resulting in your ass moving against his erection. You can feel him pulse against you, and it only makes your pussy throb in direct result, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Just admit you want me,” he seethes, pressing more firmly against you while his middle finger teases your entrance. “You like me like this. You don’t want sweet—you want me to be a hard ass, don't you? Why else would you act like such a slutty little brat? Good girls don’t get wet after shit like this, baby. Good girls don’t like to be thrown around.”

“Katsuki,” you say on a sigh while bringing a hand to his arm, hoping to direct him to break through your surface.

“Put your hands on the table,” he growls.

“Please.” You ignore him, pulling his arm more insistently, needing him to deepen his touch.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you; put your hands on the table, or I won’t hesitate to use this belt against your bare fuckin’ ass. I’ll lick you so good, you’ll have bruises for months. You’ll need to sit on a fuckin’ ice pack the next time I’m courteous enough to have you dine with me at my table.”

Shuddering, you obey him, planting your palms against the flat of the table, away from the splattered cake. Bakugou lets out a contemptuous scoff, brings your wrists together, and easily wraps his belt around them, tight and with no leeway.

He then pushes your shirt up so that it’s around your wrist with the belt, and pulls your sweats down all the way off of your legs. You’re virtually naked in front of him, with the exception of your bra and panties, helpless to do anything about it. Just like he likes it. He always wants you to bite back until he gets you to submit. He was probably enjoying your little silent treatment show, too; it was just another kind of rebellion, another barbel that he’s fought and won.

A tingle runs down your spine as he traces it with calloused fingers. You feel your stomach tighten from anticipation when he reaches your tailbone and his touch leaves your body. You hear him chuckle as he pulls at a strap of your thong, snapping it back into place. “At least I know you like the panties I got you.”

Pain bursts on your right cheek as the sound of his sharp slap ricochets around the dining room. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out—even still, you’re trembling when he rubs the sore spot.

“Awww,” he coos, snickering. “You gonna try and act tough?”

You exhale, trying and failing to keep a steady breath, but it’s all wrong and you’re already panting.

“Show me how much you hate me, baby, I wanna hear you sing it.”

The next lick comes without any precursor, no warning, no time for you to brace yourself, so when he slaps your ass, you can’t help but cry out—ecstatic or indignant—it’s not your place to decide.

“Katsuki!” You fall forward, forehead on the table, inches away from the ruined cake.

He chuckles at your position, petting the back of your hair. “If you want me to stop, you’re gonna have to lick it up, Princess.”

Your eyes narrow and you shoot a sideways glare back at him. “I’m not a dog.”

His lips tilt sideways, cocky and annoyingly hot, cheeks red, brow raised provocatively. “You sure look like a bitch to me.”

He spanks you a third and fourth time, and your mouth hangs open with unspoken yelps, a familiar, shameful feeling traveling down your stomach to your throbbing heat.

Taking a second, Bakugou dips his fingers into the pink frosted mess in front of your eyes, and brings it to your mouth. “Taste it for me. I worked hard to get the flavor right,” he commands, smearing the cream over your bottom lip. You’re helpless to oblige. Only, when you stick your tongue out, he pushes two fingers into your mouth.

“Bite me, and I’ll have you tied up for the entire night. I’ll make you scream until you’re on the edge of passing out, then I’ll fuck you awake. I’ll use you—fill every hole you’ve got ‘til you’re nothing but a leaky drainpipe full of my cum. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhmm…” Not wanting to test to see if he was just making empty promises, because he never makes empty promises, you glide your tongue around his fingers, aiming to please. You let out a soft, appreciative hum when you taste the sweet, strawberry flavored frosting, and suck his fingers clean.

“Good girl,” he says, his fingers leaving your mouth, only to dip back into the cake. He brings them back to your lips and you take him in willingly. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word out of that pretty little mouth, until I tell you to speak. Understand?”

You look at him with affirmation. He spanks you again.

Your body jolts, spit and cream drooling out of your mouth as you moan, trying not to utter a comprehensive word. The vibrations from the impact sends waves of pleasure dancing across your clenching heat. He hasn’t even really touched your sex, and yet, you feel the coils of an approaching orgasm winding up in the pit of your stomach.

The sixth and seventh spank has tears falling down your cheeks. The heat is too much to bear and you can feel sweat sliding down your back. You want to warn him—to request that he takes a break, because the oncoming shame that’s making your toes tingle and your heart race might be a little more humiliating than having him torture you for the entire night. But you say nothing, your curiosity besting your dignity. The next spank does you in. Your body shakes as you wail, your coils breaking while you pool out, thighs sheened with your arousal. There’s absolutely no hiding yourself, and Bakugou is going to be all too smug about this. You simply cannot believe yourself.

“No way,” Bakugou husks, fingers leaving your mouth. You’re panting again when he brings his fingers to your fluttering pussy. He pushes them in and all you can offer is a sigh when he’s up to his digits in you.

“Aww...oh no.” You can’t tell if his concern is genuine or not, but it doesn’t matter to you. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, and defeated. He’s never going to let you live this down. You can already hear his future taunts buzzing around in your head. ‘You can’t pretend like you don’t like me when I’ve made you cum just by spanking your perfect little ass.’

God-fucking-damn it.

He has all the merit to tease you for it now, and you’re expecting him to—hell, you’re practically bracing yourself for it, but instead, he pulls his fingers back and pushes your bottom over, so you face him.

“Ah~Ow!” You wince when your butt hits the table.

“Ah. C’mere.” He frowns and pulls you up by the belt at your wrist. You don’t stop yourself from falling into his embrace. He might be the source of all of your dread, but he’s also your only means of comfort. You let your tears roll onto his chest, muffling your sobs into his shirt. He hushes you, nails tickling your back as he kisses your hair. “S’okay, princess. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you cry, and though your wrists are still bound, you manage to clutch onto his shirt. You pull him into you, shamelessly reveling in the familiarity of his scent.

“Hmm?” He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What for?”

Your lips tremble and you shake your head, unable to voice exactly what you’re sorry for. Climaxing? Telling him that you hate him? Treating him so poorly when all he does is take care of you? You shake your head again when the actualization of your situation sets into the forefront of your mind. There’s practically a river of tears streaming down your face now and you wish for nothing more than to do disappear, because you’re a stupid girl, there’s cake in your hair, and Stockholm syndrome is bullshit!

“What is it?” He insists, he is tone low, caring.

Dumb. You’re so dumb. Your brain is screaming at you to not say anything, but your skin still buzzes from the thrill of your orgasm. Despite loathing yourself more than ever, you’re practically high, both from catharsis and euphoria.

“I don’t...hate you.” It’s small but it’s there—your voice. There’s a lot to decode from your confession, and by the way Bakugou’s eyes soften just the tiniest bit, you know that he knows what you will not say..

His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth, wiping away at some residual frosting, then brings it up to where your lips part.

“I know,” he says as you take him in again, swirling your tongue around his thumb, now enjoying the taste of the cake. “Of course I know.”

Your heart swells when he doesn’t laugh at you. He doesn’t even look all that proud of himself. He simply gazes at you with adoration and amazement—and, of course, lust because you have your lips wrapped around something. Prick.

“That was very hot, babe,” he says before kissing your forehead. “I really didn’t think that you could be so responsive to me.” He chuckles darkly, but it lacks his familiar malicious undertone. “Don’t really feel like I earned it, either.”

His thumb leaves your mouth, slides against your bottom lip, and is abruptly replaced with a kiss. Bakugou’s tongue teases your mouth open, then caresses yours with his. “Mmm,” he hums, the reverberations of his voice sending sensational buzzes down your neck. He nips at your bottom lip, then smirks against you. “Tastes good.”

He kisses you again, molding his lips perfectly to yours, and you feel his arousal poke at your bound hands. Not quite lucid enough to think it through, but feeling a bit mischievous yourself, you cup his girth through his trousers, rubbing his hard length up and down. You run your tongue against his, wanting to taste the power he has over you.

“You want me, baby?” Bakugou asks, pressing himself more firmly into your hands. “You wanna feel me slide inside that wet pussy of yours?”

Still not willing to give him a verbal confirmation, you squeeze his cock, legs wrapping around his torso to pull him closer to you. He growls when you have him grinding against your heat, a dark stain appearing on the prominent bulge he rubs against you. When he pulls away, you see that his pupils are blown, barely a sliver of his crimson iris to be seen. He looks moonstruck, predatory, and beautiful.

“Naughty girl,” he scolds, a tick in his jaw. He pushes you lightly, easing so that your back is on the table, your legs spread out for him. He groans when he runs a finger up your damp, clothed slit.

“I asked you a question,” he continues, playing with your core. He gets a dreamy look in his eye when he pulls your panties to the side, and feels exactly how wet you are for him. Then, he shoots a scathing glower your way. “Do. You. Want. Me. To. Fuck. You?”

“Yes,” you say with a nod. “I want you to fuck me, Katsuki.”

“That’s really too bad.” He snickers arrogantly and your heart falls into your stomach. Didn’t you just have a soft moment?! “Only good girls get fucked, pretty baby. You can’t confess your undying love for me and expect that gets you out of your punishment.”

“I did not!” You argue which earns you a dangerous look.

“You and I both know what the hell you meant,” he says with a threateningly sexy lilt. “You can’t take something like that back at the drop of a hat.”

”I think you’ve punished me enough already,” you bite out defensively, quick to change the subject, because you‘re bitterly aware that he’s right.

“And who are you to decide that?” He smirks, brushing a thumb across your pubic bone. “Thought you were my prisoner.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“No?” Bakugou gets down to his knees, leveling his face with your center. “Actions speak louder than words, angelface.” He kisses your clit, making the same noise he does when he’s trying to bother you while eating, only when he does it on your cunt, all of your nerve endings catch flame and you’re spiraling back to needy senselessness. “Prove to me that you’ve earned my cock by riding my tongue.”

He’s nothing if not altruistic when he’s between your legs. He’s always been generous and dedicated to getting you off, but there’s something different about how he’s moving now. He uses the flat of his tongue and draws languid strokes up your entrance, taking his time while he swirls around your clit. He groans into you, and if the vibrations of his voice weren’t enough to finish you off then and there, his fingers sure as hell do it for you. He pushes them into you, reveling in the feel of your spongy walls hugging him tightly. He traces intricate patterns across your skin, mapping out the places that make you moan the loudest, just to be keen on teasing you for harrowing minutes. He’s going about this agonizing slow, but there’s something about him taking his time, rather than completely ravaging you to prove just how good he is at eating you out, that already has your walls clamping down around his fingers, your back arching, whimpers and pleas tumbling out of your mouth.

It hits you like a brisk wave crashing against the oceanic shoreline. First it was one liquescent sensation, then a pandemonium of your nerves roaring to life. Your thighs close against his head, locking him into place while your fingers twine with his hair. He moans into you, multiplying the excruciating thrill tenfold. You rock against his tongue, savoring this magnificently prolonged ecstatic escapade.

When your nerves cool down and you’re no longer twitching too much, Bakugou offers you a wry grin before licking his lips.

“Look at what a mess you’ve become,” he coos , kissing your shaking thighs, eyes locked on yours. “Was that all because of me, princess.”

“I...don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.” You breathe, disoriented by the fact. “Oh my god.”

“That so?” He asks as his tongue travels up your thigh.

Bakugou fervently laps up your post-orgasmic juices all the way back up to your drenched cunt. He groans dramatically while his tongue dives back into you. You’re far too sensitive now, and he doesn’t stop—he likes having you squirm around, bucking your hips this was and that, all attempts at finding an escape for his erotic torture futile. Soon he has you spasming out of control for the third time this night, and he rides the waves of your grudging pleasure with delight.

“K-katsukiiii, pleeease!” You’re breathless, hot, and irrational. He has a large hand gripped tightly on your side while three fingers continue to curl inside of you. “I can’t t-take it anymore! It’s t-too much!”

“What? You don’t think you’ve got another one in you?” He keeps your eyes locked on his as his hands push your thighs farther apart, his tongue slowly gliding across your throbbing clit.

You shake your head, practically sputtering your pleas. “I will do whatever you want, so please-“

‘��S that right?” Bakugou grins up at you, smug and triumphant. He pushes you farther up on the table and climbs over you, one hand at the side of your head, holding him up—the other reaching out to grab a coin-sized piece of cake. He presses it against your mouth as he prompts you with an, “ahh.”

“Ah,” you mimic and he pushes the cake into your mouth. The moment you swallow is the moment his lips latch onto yours. You taste your headiness mixing in with the creamy texture of the cake and you can’t help but moan openly into his mouth.

Bakugou ends the kiss too soon, catching you out of breath and wanting more.

“You can be a good girl, can’t you?” His voice is raspy, thick with need, and you know he’s close to falling apart. You want him to. You need him to. He’s broken you, so it’s only just that he breaks sometimes too.

You nod, cautious to see what he’ll be doing next. He’s certainly not taking off his pants, which was the only thing he should be doing.

He moves your arms over his shoulders and leans down low, breath hot on your ear. “You’ll do anything for my cock?”

“Yes,” you sigh and wish more than anything for your hands to be free so tear his shirt off.

“Because you don’t hate me at all. In fact, you fuckin’ love me. You love everything I do to you, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. That right?”

You scowl ahead, teeth clenched. “Yes.”

He draws a line with his tongue against the most sensitive part of your neck, making you shudder, and asks, “yes, what, princess?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, I am stubborn.”

With a “teh!” Bakugou kisses your cheek and leads you up so that you’re sitting straight, and guides you both carefully off the table, sweeping you up to carry you so that you don’t step in any of the food you’ve tossed around. He cradles you in his arms, you half-naked, him fully dressed, and smiles sardonically.

“I’m not gonna make you say it, because it is your birthday, but I will have you know that your punishment is not over.”

“You’re kidding me!” You bark back, leaning away to look him in the eyes to see if he’s serious.

“Sorry, baby.” He laughs. “But I had a romantic evening planned out for the two of us and you just had to throw your little bratty tantrums.”

“What do I have to do—?”

“—to get me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“You’re going to take a shower, put on that fuckin’ dress, then we’re gonna do this whole dinner thing over again. If you can behave, then maybe—maybe you’ll get my cock. If not—well princess, history tends to repeat itself, but I was hoping we could act like a normal couple just for one night. Thought maybe you’d be into it too, but that’s not what you want at all, is it?”

“I...want to be a normal couple,” you say unenthusiastically. You’re not sure if you meant you wanted to be a normal couple with Bakugou or if you wanted to be free and normal with somebody else entirely.

Bakugou snickers, as if you said something childish. “No you don’t.”

“Because you think I don’t want to be with you.”

“Nah...I know you want to be with me. But you don’t want to be a normal couple. You want this, babe. You want what we have. You want the chaos. You revel in it.”

“Well, I—“ you begin, desperate to find an argument point that doesn’t make you sound dumb. Is he right? Do you enjoy this? Everyday is like a game with him, and it drives you up the fucking wall, but what would you be without it?

“I hope you can keep your self-control,” you retort flippantly, abandoning the argument. “Hope your dick didn’t burst your buttons, Katsuki.” Your gaze drops down to the tent in his pants, then snaps pointedly back at his face.

He’s absolutely unfazed. In fact, he’s more chipper than you’ve ever seen him—like he’s the cat who caught the mouse. “Just for that, I’m gonna join you in the shower. Keep my belt around those wrists and have you watch me wash myself—see all that you’re missing out on.”

You groan, head falling into his chest as he begins walking towards the stairs. “I really do fucking hate you.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart,” he says back, a smile in his voice. “Just as long as you know that you’re not the only person here that knows how to play keep away.”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #yandere!bakugou #yandere!bakugou x reader #yandere bnha #yandere male #bnha yandere #yandere au #bnha au #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #tw yandere #katsuki x reader

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thebirkenstocksocialist · 3 years

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Mariah Carey’s “Butterfly” is a Wilmon album - A treatise

Hi All - as a fandom elder I am contributing to the absolutely fantastic phenomenon of assigning music to our beloved boys. I am bringing some music from my youth into the mix. This album is something that I pined over when I was a teenager. I hadn’t listened to it for a long time although Mariah Carey is still one of my favorites - absolute legend. Anyway, I was reminiscing about it with a fellow elder, the darling @books-books-smolderinglooks and decided to listen. Holy shit I was so blown away by the album’s application to the love story in YR. So, please enjoy my song analysis. And maybe take a listen, this album is gold.

Mariah Carey - Butterfly

1. Honey: this is the only upbeat pop song on the album and probably one you are familiar with. This song’s whole vibe is like a happy love song. “It’s just like honey when your love comes over me. Oh baby I’ve got a dependency, always strung out for another taste of your honey”. Ya’ll. This song is all of the fun, sunny, connected, tender, happy moments we get to see Wilhelm and Simon have. That first hand touch? First kiss? When Simon says to Wilhelm, “It’s ok. I like you too”. Don’t get me started on the fish scene. Ya’ll it is ALL HONEY.

2. Butterfly: So this song has caused me heartbreak since the album dropped in 1997. If it isn’t Simon singing to Wilhelm as he walks away, crying, I don’t what is. “If you should return to me, we truly were meant to be. So spread your wings and fly, butterfly.” - Wilhelm isn’t ready for what Simon has to offer and it is devastating. “But I will stand and say goodbye. For you’ll never be mine. Until you know the way it feels to fly”. FUCK. (also shout out to by discord lovelies who stan butterfly Wille. This song is his chrysalis and he is totally going to immerge and fly back to Simon, beautiful wings and all)

3. My All: “If it’s wrong to love you, then my heart just won’t let me be right”. Ok so track 2 us Simon to Wilhelm during the break up scene and this track is Wilhelm to Simon. “I’d give my all to just one more night with you. I’d risk my life to feel your body next to mine. Cause I can’t go on living in the memory of our song.” The reference to music and their relationship as a song? Oof. And…I’m crying. “And you’re just so far, like a distant star, I’m wishing on tonight”. Also the crescendo, in true Mariah Carey fashion, really enhances the emotional devastation of this song.

4. The Roof (Back in Time): This song is such a first kiss song and the utter YEARNING Wilhelm felt before, during, and after that first kiss. “And then you softly pressed your lips to mine. And feelings surfaced that I'd suppressed for such a long long time.” . The lyrics are so perfect. And the chorus? Ya’ll that chorus puts very pretty ideas in your head. Very pretty indeed. Go listen.

5. Fourth of July: Obviously this date is very USA focused so let’s ignore the date. Damn this is a sexy slow jam. This song suits the fish scene so beautifully. Just a sexy celebration of bit feelings. “I felt you sigh with a sweet intensity and baby”. If you want, it would probably be a good time if you put this song on repeat and made love with yourself or a partner(s). <3

6. Breakdown: Oof ya’ll I remember crying to this song when I was probably 15? Pain ya’ll. Pain. The chorus describes how I imagine Wilhelm after the dreaded break up and particularly as he hugs Simon and tells him he loves him. “Well I guess I’m trying to be nonchalant about it. And I’m going to extremes to prove I’m fine without you. But in reality I’m slowly losing my mind. Underneath the guise of a smile, gradually I’m dying inside”. The masks that Wilhelm has to wear and how he can’t show his grief? “Cause I don’t want to reveal that I’m suffering”. This is such a good song.

7. Babydoll: This song is just Wilhelm when he is obsessively scrolling on his phone on Simon’s social media. Pining for contact. Some kind of acknowledgement. If someone wants to write a fic where Simon calls Wille “babydoll” that would be great. Thanks.

8. Close My Eyes: For me, this song is Mariah singing to herself and honoring her growth and the growth she has to do. As I listen to this, All I see is Simon’s heart. He has been through so much. His sister tells him to stop trying to help everyone. Then, he goes as makes a decision to prioritize himself, at great cost. He has to steady himself. He grew up a little too soon with all the trauma he suffered. He’s a tremendous character. He sings this to himself. Perhaps before, or after, he sets that boundary with Wilhelm.

9. Whenever You Call. I dare you to listen to this song, think about Simon and Wille, and not cry. “I won't ever be too far away to feel you. And I won’t hesitate at all, whenever you call. And I’ll always remember the part of you so tender. I”ll be the one to catch your fall. WHenever you call”. How about “and you have opened my heart and lifted me inside, by showing me yourself, undisguised”. WOW. There are moments in this song that could either be sung from Simon’s Heart, Wilhelm’s heart, or both, achingly apart, to each other.

10. Fly Away- butterfly reprise: This is alike a remix of track 2. It has an upbeat dance vibe. I’m crossing my fingers this is a portent of what is to come for Wilhelm in Season 2. “Don’t let your spirit die”. Fly and change, little one. It’s like all of our prayer for you.

11. The Beautiful Ones - I’ll be honest this song is a skip for me. Sorry Mariah, it’s just not the one.

12. Outside: Mariah wrote this song about being biracial. It is a really stunning piece of art. I think of Simon with this song - how much of an outsider he feels at Hillerska related to both class and race (fuck you August). And also, how he feels the moment Ayub tells him Wilhelm denied the video. My heart ya’ll. It’s broken.

That’s it darlings. That is my encouragement to listen to Butterfly, an almost perfect album (Looking at you track 11). I hope you enjoy it.

Here is my track listening order recommendation if you don’t want to listen in album order: 1, 7, 4, 5, 3, 2, 6, 12, 8, 10, 9. And beloveds, if you need it, I have made a playlist for you in that order. Hugs.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0v1x036rsRCzpg5u76Vka3

#mariah carey #wilmon #young royals #wilhelm young royals #simon and wilhelm #simon eriksson #playlist

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ink-and-dagger · 2 years

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I'm in absolute love with your writing, you inspire me so much with your descriptions and subtle characterizations. It really brings to life the world of Arcane.

I had a writing question: I just started my first fic about a month ago and I'm a bit of a chaotic perfectionist (only in my writing, unfortunately). I find myself going back to my old chapters again and again to revise them to 'perfection', however my definition of 'perfection' keeps morphing so I end up in a cycle of editing myself stupid and ignoring the current chapter I'm writing. If you have a similar problem, is there a way you get past that and remain content with what you've already posted?

If you don't have this problem and don't feel like answering, I will happily fuck off because I'll assume you're using that time to write a fantastic chapter 12 to Drink with Me.

You're such a gifted writer and you just keep getting better. Thank you!

Thank you dearest darling! 😘🖤

Your struggle is my struggle friend. I know exactly what you’re talking about.

I find when I’m writing a fic I can only get so far ahead in the story before previous chapters lure me back like a damn siren. And just like you, I get caught in a rut of reworking and editing until I’m blue in the face.

The only way I’ve found I can get past it, is to post the bloody chapter. Because once it’s out in the world then I can’t touch it anymore, and it frees my mind to move onto the next one. (I do alter spelling/grammatical errors if I spot them though)

Obviously I don’t post until I’m mostly happy - but I’ve learnt that there will always be something to tweak. The amount of times I’ve swapped the same two words in and out over and over, or have rejigged a sentence to then change it back again on the next pass borders on ridiculous.

I’d say the two most important things to ensure you’re happy with are the flow and the feeling.

The flow of your writing can easily be checked by simply reading it aloud (or mouthing it silently if you’re unable to do that). If you stumble over the wording of a sentence, then take another look at it.

The feeling is what you’re trying to communicate in the chapter - literally how you want your readers to feel. If you get this right, they aren’t going to care if the writing is absolute perfection.

I think the more you write and post, the more you’ll become familiar with knowing when it’s time to stop obsessing over each chapter.

I saw this somewhere once and it’s always stuck with me 👇🏼

A writer’s job isn’t always to use the biggest or cleverest words. It’s to use the right words. And sometimes the right word is ass. 😘

#inky answers #writing advice

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Could you do some witchers brothers and hurt/comfort please? Maybe with vesemir or jaskier. I love your blog (sorry for my English it's not my mother tongue) and I really enjoy each ficlet you post. Take care and thank you! :)

Nonnie, fear not about your English, it is perfect. As one non-native English speaker to another, I think it’s fantastic we have this common language to communicate in!

Every winter all wolf Witchers returned to Kaer Morhen whether they wanted to or not. Some years Jaskier could have sworn Geralt was silently pleading with him to be given an excuse not to return but the one time Jaskier actually asked Geralt to stay, he was given a small, almost remorseful shake of head. It took another couple of years before Jaskier tried again.

“I have to go back to Kaer Morhen,” Geralt said, staring into his empty bowl at the tavern. They were due to go their separate ways from there and, as time went on, they left later and later just to have a few more hours or a day in each other’s company.

“Then let me come with you.”

The request from Jaskier had Geralt blinking, as startled as a Witcher ever got. He seemed reluctant in a way that Jaskier hadn’t actually seen before.

“You won’t like it.” The problem was, it didn’t even sound like an excuse. “There’s not much to do.”

That was something Jaskier wanted to judge for himself. Plus, he could think of ways of spending a whole winter if Geralt was amenable. So he smiled.

“I don’t mind. I’d rather spend months with you in your company, doing nothing but staring lovingly into your eyes than a winter without you by my side.”

It took a bit of convincing, Geralt’s resistance and resolve wasn’t all that strong to start with. Jaskier could see him at war with himself over the matter, all he did was help settle it. He was going to Kaer Morhen.

The climb up was exhausting. It was cold, the kind that signalled that snow was going to fall all too soon. Jaskier just had to hope they would make it before it properly started coming down. They didn’t.

By the time they got to the old keep, snow was clumped on Jaskier’s shoulders and hood, even the hair that stuck out from under it was like an icicle on his forehead. Opening the door, Geralt led them through and Jaskier almost whined in disappointment. There was no wall of warmth to walk into, no greeting from other Witchers. In fact, it was cold and barren, not even a torch on to light the way. Only a hand on Jaskier’s arm helped guide him through the corridors until they got to a door. Geralt thumped on it twice before opening it the smallest crack and slipping though, dragging Jaskier along before closing the door again.

The room was likely a smaller dining hall attached to the kitchen once upon a time. Not the grandiose halls Jaskier had dreamed of. However, the walls were all lined with fur, the floor piled high with it and there was a roaring fire to bring light and heat to the room.

“You brought company.” There were three figures in front of the fire now that Jaskier looked, all of them in a pile, looking rather cosy. He had no idea who had spoken.

“Hello, I’m Jaskier, the renowned bard.” Introductions were always polite.

“Don’t care.” That had to be Lambert talking. “Just dump your stuff and get in here.”

Quite the upfront invite and Jaskier glanced to Geralt to assess his reaction. However, Geralt had already started stripping, his snow coated cloak was hung on the back of a chair while everything else went clattering. Taking his lead, Jaskier did the same. It was only when they were down to their smalls that Geralt stopped and stepped towards the pile. He slipped in and gestured for Jaskier to follow too. Under the furs, it was surprisingly warm and, tired from the trek, Jaskier couldn’t really blame himself for falling asleep.

For the first few days Jaskier relished the quiet, relaxed atmosphere and the fact that there was nothing to do other than rest. Sure, it was a little weird to lounge around sharing body heat but maybe it was a wolf thing. However, by the third day he was getting a bit bored.

“When do you start training? Or doing anything?”

“I told you-” Geralt replied, “-there isn’t much to do.”

Not much didn’t mean there wasn’t anything to do, at least, that’s not how Jaskier interpreted it. He was proven wrong by the end of the first week. They had done nothing other than sleep, eat and huddle under the pile of furs. Going out to relieve himself was a special kind of torture, it was so cold, Jaskier was surprised he didn’t just piss icicles.

After the first week it seemed that the others lost some of their hesitance around him. It was early one morning when Jaskier woke up to noises he was no stranger to but didn’t expect to hear so close. In the far corner of the room, Lambert was above Eskel, fucking into him without a care for their audience.

“If you keep staring you’ll be invited to join in,” Geralt grumbled from under the pile of furs behind Jaskier. On his other side Vesemir muttered something darkly before settling back down.

“Do they want an audience? Isn’t this a bit weird?”

Geralt shrugged at the questions. “We’ve got needs, nothing we haven’t all seen or done before. Just ignore them, they’ll be done soon.”

Jaskier supposed he ought to be grateful the two had taken themselves to the other side of the room as least. It didn’t mean he still wasn’t treated to a full show filed with soft grunts and what sounded dangerously like murmurs of love declarations. The kissing sure helped drive that one home. Resolve hardening, Jaskier determined he wouldn’t put on such a show for everyone else.

“We could go somewhere more private,” he propositioned Geralt. It was quite the matter of need now, he hadn’t even had the privacy to jerk off. His balls were starting to ache.

“Where? It’s too cold anywhere else.”

Which was true enough. Jaskier had tried to think of anywhere they could go for a fumble without an audience. The stables were his best idea but Geralt snorted dismissively.

“Not in front of Roach.”

The determination to find somewhere, anywhere else lasted all of three more days before Jaskier caved in. He all but dragged Geralt to the most distant corner and demanded he be ravished. It was so good, he could even forget the three other Witchers in the room. They didn’t forget him though and, over the course of the week, Jaskier found himself propositioned by all other residents of Kaer Morhen. When he asked Geralt, he got a shrug in return. “Do what you please. I don’t mind sharing as long as you know I still love you.”

After that, winter seeed somewhat more bearable. Jaskier loved to learn what made the other Witchers moan and squirm. It was like discovering a whole new book to memorise and refine. Lambert liked his hair being pulled, Eskel preferred soft kisses while Vesemir would rumbled the filthiest things in Jaskier’s ear. In short, Jaskier was thoroughly entertained. There was still one thing on his mind though.

“Why do you even come back?”

They were sat around the fire, eating. The silence and shifty looks didn’t really help.

“It’s impossible to survive a winter up here alone,” Geralt began.

Much more kindly, Eskel took over. “Vesemir doesn’t go out on the Path anymore. He keeps as much of Kaer Morhen in one piece as he can and prepares stores for each winter.”

So it was a matter of duty. Jaskier couldn’t imagine how awful it would be alone up in the old, crumbling keep. Even worse, a winter alone.

“The whole keep is nothing but holes and crumbling stone. We can’t keep it warm over winter, no matter how much we fuel the fires,” Lambert interrupted his thoughts. “So we heat one room, next to the kitchen. Sorted for food, we keep each other warm. Guests are always welcome though few ever would want to winter with us like this.”

“Just bring your damn cat next time,” Vesemir cut in with an eye roll. “I can hear you telling Eskel about him almost every day.”

Jaskier listened, pondering over everything he heard. By the sounds of it, the Wolves returned to Kaer Morhen out of a sense of duty, to keep Vesemir alive through the winter. It was noble but also stupid as fuck.

“Come spend winter with me in Oxenfurt next year.” The offer was made without much consideration. It seemed obvious to him. “I could probably even get you a couple of hours of work a week, teaching history and the like to students.”

No more worries about freezing to death, no more obligations to each other. Jaskier liked the idea of his free Witchers hanging around because they wanted to rather than had to. It would mean the opportunity to train during the winter, resting too if they wanted to. Plus, if they wanted to bring guests, there was more to do than just lounge around and fuck. Though they could still do that, Jaskier was very much into the idea of that. But next time, next winter, there would be beds and privacy for whenever they wanted it.

#geraskier #jaskier x witchers #eskel/lambert #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #vesemir #witchersexual jaskier #tldr: nothing to do in kaer morhen except stay warm and get jiggy

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colossal-fallout · 4 years

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Hi, are you request open? Would you be up for something with sub Reiner x dom Fem!Reader? I’m fucking feral for him! Like I want his s/o tie him up, suck on those big tiddies and overstimulate him until he can’t take it anymore and cries for her to stop! I think this man needs an overdose of caresses and affection even he thinks he doesn't deserve them. If you don't want to do it, just ignore my message plz. Thank you so much!

Fem reader X Reiner

Nsfw 18 only. Smut.

Reiner's chest vibrated in a low volume moan, as your fingers slowly circled around his broad, muscular shoulders. He crooks his large neck to the left and right, feeling all of the days tension melt away into nothingness.

You silently marvel at the sight of him, shirtless and sitting before you on the end of the bed. Tracing your fingers lightly down the ridges of his large back muscles, he shivers in delight.

“Rough day, baby?” You ask quietly, your voice nothing more than a whispered vibration that lovingly reaches his ears.

He places his hand across his chest and clamps it around yours. To anyone else, the rough and calloused skin of Reiner’s hand would feel like sandpaper, but to you they were soft, gentle and well...his.

“Yeah.” He sighs, turning his head to nuzzle into your face lovingly. “It’s always worth it to come home to you though. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

You knew Reiner had it rough. You did everything and anything in your power to lessen his burden as much as possible. If you could, you’d take the entire weight of the world off his shoulders and onto yours.

But, since that wasn’t possible, you’d settle for making sure he always came home to a beautiful home cooked meal and a hot bath waiting for when he finishes eating.

But tonight, you had other things in mind.

You shuffle your position, swinging your leg around him and sitting on his lap, placing your face close to his. He revelled in you sweet breath that coated him, grazing his lips against yours.

“Oh, is that what mood we’re in, huh?” He smirks, thrusting his hips up to surprise you.

You jerk upwards with a laugh, your arms draping around his shoulders.

“I always am, with you.” You purr, placing your hand on his large chest and pushing him down onto his back. “But tonight, it’s all about you, baby.”

He cocks up an eyebrow inquisitively as your lips start to caress his throat, his protruding Adam’s apple rumbling as he spoke.

“You don’t have to...”

“I want to.” You insist, running the tip of your tongue up his neck to his earlobe, where you nuzzle and nibble.

The large grip he has on your ass tightens in a grope, massaging your flesh above the nightgown you were wearing.

You graze your head down to his fantastic pecks, your tongue flicking over his left nipple like a snake tasting the dirt.

“mm...” He closes his eyes. “You know I love that.”

oh you knew.

You sit up and lean back, so you’re lying with your feet on either side of his head giving him a marvellous view up your nightshirt as you begin to tug at the waistband of your panties.

Teeth biting his pouty bottom lip, his eyes growing more hungry by the second, he reaches up and pulls them down your legs and off your ankles those honied eyes becoming a lot less narrow, devouring the sight of your perfect pussy that was just out of reach.

Returning to your original position, you grab your panties out of his hand, your tongue sliding sensually inside his mouth, wrestling with his. You love his natural taste, scent... everything about Reiner Braun drives you wild, his touch now gently running up your back as his breathing becomes more heavy.

You pull away your kiss; your eyes like the devil, your thong still in your hand before you place it in his mouth, making sure the inner crotch was touching his tongue.

His eyes become heavy lidded, your delicious smell and taste bombarding him while you return your attention back to his neck, tasting his pheromones that just oozed out of this beefcake of a man.

Trailing your fingers down his perfect body to his belt, you begin to unbuckle it with swift movements, your arousal already beginning to ignite your primal desires as you slide it out from under him, and wrap it tightly around his wrists above his head.

His eyes watched your every movement while you unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them off his large thighs, his solid cock flicking upwards and smacking him in the stomach as it’s pulled down then unleashed.

You place your tongue flat before running it from his asshole, up his balls and his entire shaft, a loud moan muffling through your panties.

Returning to his balls, you don’t hold back or care about any table manners as you spit, slobber and suck his ripe plums, caressing them while your free hand slowly pumps his now crimson head.

“Ohmhhmmmmh...” He grumbles loudly, his hips somewhat thrusting and jerking in a pleasured response.

“Does that feel good, Reiner?” You ask, working his shaft and shooting a smouldering gaze up at him.

He nods, his eyes pleading desperately.

Your mouth returns to its job at hand, the tip of your finger that isn’t touching his cock begins to slowly prod at his tight hole, his legs tensing as you did so, his head rolling from side to side.

The next thing he knows, he’s down your throat a moan so loud you thought he was in pain at first.

But as your eyes flicker up to check he’s okay, you see his head is thrown back in ecstasy, the outline of his fat neck looking like he was some sort of chizzled god.

Your finger slides all the way inside of him, beckoning as you massage his g-spot, his gruff groans quickly morphing into whines as he squirms his large form around the bed.

You remove your mouth from his cock for a moment.

“Does that feel good...? Am I making you feel good, baby?”

He groans in reply, his head trying to reach down to look at you, his pupils fully dilated in starvation.

You place him back down your throat, your jaw aching from the girth of him, but you didn’t mind. You want to make your man feel good. He fucking deserves it and more.

You slide in another finger in there, hooking his insides and rocking him, his cock pouring sweet pre cum into your mouth as you drink deeply from him.

He pushes out your panties with his tongue.

"God, y/n. I'm going to cum. Fuck... Shit... !" He's a writhing mess, totally at your mercy as she squirms and pleads.

"B-babe." He warns through gritted teeth. "It's gonna be a lot."

You continue but you brace yourself. There's a big cum shot - then there's Reiner's big cum shot.

With a jolt of his hips and an almost road from his throat, you feel his hot cum collidi with the back of your throat, his loud groans still carrying through the air as more and more cum fills your mouth faster than you can swallow. It pours out of your cave, dripping and mixed with your saliva down his shaft.

"fuck, y/n." I'm still cuming..." he gasps in shock, his fat cock still unleashing it's innards into your wet cave.

His vision fades to black for a few seconds as you continue to suck and prod, his sensitive head feeling almost heavy as you abuse it with your tonsils.

He hisses and whines at an alarming volume.

"Fuuuuck, y/n... Ah~!"

You continue ruining him his whines now a small sob of heavenly pleasure.

"P-please... Fuck."

You release him, swallowing every drop of cum you could gather in your mouth and slowly removing your fingers before crawling up and releasing his hands as he lies there, staring into the void.

His mouth is agape and his eyes are open but there was no one home. Burying your head into his chest, you give him a nudge.

"Reiner?"

He jerks back to life, giving you a little fright.

"Jesus, I thought I'd killed you."

"You pretty much did..." He breathes with a huge grin starting to spread across his handsome face. "God, I love you."

#attack on titan #snk #snk imagines #snk season 4 #reiner braun #snk fandom #attack on titan x you #attack on titan reiner #reiner smut #snk reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x oc #reiner x y/n #reiner x you #aot reiner braun #aot reiner

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inventors-fair · 3 years

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Guild Tripping: Guildy Pleasures Winners

This week has broken my own personal records for both most submissions received, and just the highest average submission quality. Y’all absolutely knocked it out of the park this week, there wasn’t a single design I didn’t enjoy. I had to enlist the help of some other judges to narrow down the winner’s circle, because it was honestly that difficult. But there can only be three, and these three are more than deserving of their spot on the podium.

Rafiq, Champion of Many by @hiygamer

While a lot of cards this week did a good job of matching mechanics with factions, the designs themselves didn’t excite me a whole bunch. This does not have that problem. Not only does convoke fit perfectly into the go-wide strategies bant likes so much, but Rafiq is an excellent figurehead for this presumed archetype. It’s exciting, powerful, and showcases a new angle for convoke that wasn’t really explored in the Selesnya faction. The non-keyworded throwback to exalted is fantastic as well, since it further encourages you to use your creatures as mana dorks rather than risk them in combat. If I had any small nitpicks, it’s that the name and art feel a tad unoriginal, and I think our boi Rafiq here deserves a new epithet. Mechanically though, this is a slam dunk, and everything I was looking for for this contest.

Marang River Beast by @beandrea99

Weirdly enough, this has a lot of similarities to Rafiq. I guess that either goes to show my design biases, or they just both excel at what this contest wants to see. Much like Rafiq, the River Beast takes the old mechanic of its faction and un-keywords it. However, where Rafiq used pseudo-exalted to offer a reward for convoking creatures, this guy offers pseudo-delve as a matter of tension. This guy can drop pretty early on a full graveyard, and put some pretty big pressure with that body, but you won’t get nearly as much card draw as you would if you wait for a later turn with a much more full yard. Undergrowth in Sultai also makes a lot of sense, and this card just brings it all together. However, I do wish that the undergrowth ability was something a little more interesting than “ETB, draw cards”, since that isn’t branching far from what the original Golgari design space was. That is but a tiny ding against an amazing card though, so take it as you will.

Stinging Barb by @jerdle

So many new folks in the winners’ circle! And both of you certainly deserve it. Stinging Barb stands out as a great example of “This mechanic would be perfect for the faction if it weren’t for the name.” However, I mentioned a few times that mechanic names wouldn’t be a large part of my decision, and ignoring that, cipher is an amazing fit for Silverquill. As part of Strixhaven, they still want to care about instants and sorceries, but they want to be aggressive too, and cipher rewards hitting face. It’s a great combo! As for this card, it enables the Silverquill plan by draining a small amount, and enables its own cipher trigger (and potentially other cipher triggers) by Pacifying a creature for a turn cycle, letting you get in easier the next combat. Minor note: It should be “can’t attack or block until the end of your next turn”. Also, I’m assuming some flavor text got accidentally deleted? Shame, cause I love Razineth and would have loved to see the FT.

Congrats to our winners, and stay tuned for our equally fantastic runners-up!

#mtg #magic the gathering #guildy pleasures #inventors-fair #Winners

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fireemblems24 · 3 years

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Post Grondor Field AM Analysis

I'm prefacing this by saying that I'm still not sure I can write a good analysis of this scene for two reasons:

1. I don't know what comes after, and

2. I'm very emotionally involved in what happened.

But I tried my best. One thing is for sure though, what happened in Grondor in AM was an incredibly significant turning point for AM and Dimitri and my thoughts and analysis on it will definitely expand as I keep writing about and playing the game.

Part of me is just so happy I got to see Dimitri's supports, have the inevitable turn around, and get to do things like tea and dinner time again that it's hard to be objective about this scene.

And by "this scene," I don't mean that actual fight at Grondor, but everything from Fleche's attack to Byleth's words in the rain later.

It wasn't all about Byleth . . .

Given how poignant Dimitri's character arc has been so far, I had a deep rooted fear player-pandering would ruin it. Byleth, as a concept, isn't bad, but too often the heaps of praise feel underserved and other things (like Claude's intelligence, Edelgard's relationships with everyone else) get ignored to make more room for player-pandering.

Thankfully this did not happen. Byleth, throughout the early chapters of AM's part 2, failed to reach Dimitri. And, honestly, seeing Byleth actually struggle for once has done wonders for how I view her character. Still, I worried that player-pandering-power, rather than something that felt earned, would cause the inevitable eye-opener for Dimitri.

But it wasn't just Byleth. Fleche's vengeance kicked everything off, what veered Dimitri away from his fate in other routes. He accepted his death at her hands, not bothering to defend himself. Rodrigue stepping in the way and his parting words forced Dimitri to confront things he'd ignored. Throughout AM so far, people have posed questions to Dimitri who refused to answer them because he didn't want to face what they asked. But Rodrigue dying for him, spending his final words telling Dimitri to live for himself - combined with Fleche's attack - forced Dimitri to confront things he avoided. It wasn't until after all of that when Byleth steps in.

And Byleth didn't "fix" him either. Dimitri's supports show a young man who's still very much struggling with his mental health, poor self-image, his previous actions, and wondering if he deserves not only to live for himself - but if he even deserves to live. Byleth didn't hand-wave Dimitri's problems away.

Everything about the scene is stronger because it didn't fall back on player-pandering, but more earned, realistic, and dramatic actions and consequences - including Byleth's involvement which felt far more earned than usual because of prior failure.

But I wish Dimitri's friends played a bigger role.

Not everything was perfect though. I wish we got a little more than we did from Dimitri's house mates - especially his childhood friends Sylvain, Ingrid, and extra special mention to Felix and especially, especially Dedue.

Throughout all of AM, none of the above mentioned characters feel utilized to their full potential. This isn't a problem exclusive to AM, and by all means it's far from the biggest offender, but given how close all the ties are in AM, it's felt when it's not there.

I still don't know what exactly I would've done with them. Maybe I'd need to make the game an actual novel to do it, and you can't forget how perma-death has historically held back games at times, limiting major moments to a select few "retreat" candidates.

Still, though, getting a bit more from Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, and Dedue would've made the scene even more powerful.

I actually really liked the scene in the rain.

I haven't made it a secret that I dislike Byleth. Or maybe disliked is more accurate. Lately I've been rethinking my stance on Byleth, in part because I've heard from people who like her or found ways to make her work and from my own thinking about the game while planning future write ups.

I don't think it's Byleth I really dislike, but the player-pandering. Separating the two isn't easy, but it's easier since I've starting coming around to seeing Byleth as her own character.

There's been a few moments that made me care for Byleth, and this scene in the rain was one of them. Because she didn't just fix everything. She tried and failed for months to reason with Dimitri, and despite everything she never gave up on him or failed to keep offering her hand.

I'm not going to lie. I got all the bubbly, heartwarming, heartbreaking feels the writers wanted me to in this scene. Seeing Byleth reach for something and fail, and then finally, finally get through was rewarding in a way many of Byleth's prior accomplishments aren't because this one felt earned. And by God did she earn it.

Some people will likely disagree with that last point, but I disagree with them. She asked Dimitri hard-hitting questions, forcing him to come to unpleasant conclusions rather than trying to force him into anything. She kept Dimitri from veering to far off course, even at expense to herself when she killed Randolph. She saved Dimitri from Fleche when he refused to save himself. She quietly supported him, coaxing out the good she knew was still there and refused to give up on.

I'd never in a million years say someone in real life should put up with Dimitri's toxic behavior and verbal abuse, even considering his extreme trauma and aggravated mental illness. But seeing someone fuck up so badly still get forgiven, still get supported, still struggle but honestly change for the good, still get loved, start to accept and forgive himself through the power of love and forgiveness from others is very powerful, especially since media so often downplays those "softer" things as weakness in comparison to the "badassery" of ambition and stoicism. Using Byleth, who previously had little experience with feelings, who was encouraged to experience them in healthy ways by Dimitri, return the favor isn't really the worst choice.

It's cliche, but cliches aren't always bad.

The mentor dies. Redemption in the rain. Revenge against the protagonist's actions opens their eyes. Etc . . . This scene was chuck full of cliches, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Tropes serve an important narrative purpose because a writer can rely on them to convey a message to the audience that either saves time or sets them up for something unexpected or even expected. Fire Emblem has always and will always be incredibly cliche and full of tropes. It loves tropes so much there's in-universe ones that make some unit or character discussions sound like a foreign language to people outside of or new to the fandom, talking about "Ests" and calling someone a "Camus."

What matters is if a story pulled something off well, not if it's terribly unique. A mentor dying is powerful because it forces the student to grow. Redemption in the rain is high symbolic of water washing things away + the somber atmosphere rain creates. Someone trying to get revenge against a character provides an eye-opening experience about the ripple effect of their actions. We see these things in fiction all the time because they work.

All the tropes worked like expected in this scene. Using images instead of cut scenes did make less of an impact, but more on that later.

Tl;dr: There's nothing unexpected or terribly unique about what happened. It was honestly painfully predictable, but that doesn't make it bad and is in a series that does this all of the time.

The voice acting carried because those images can't.

A major downside to this scene is that it used vague images instead of a cut scene. I get that budget and time were likely concerns, but many cut scenes from earlier in the game seem rather trivial. Did we really need that dance one? Really? I don't think so.

This was a hugely important, action heavy moment. Using one or two still images to convey everything that's happening and all those emotions, really makes it less than it could've been.

That said, the voice acting saves it. I've raved about how amazing Chris Hackeny is as Dimitri, so nothing new here. Rodrigue's and Fleche's VAs also did a fantastic job. No one oversold or undersold the emotions. Even without the cut scene, you felt what happened thanks to the skill of the actors. This scene would've been so much harder to engage with without them, if this was an older FE game where all you got was text. This is 100% one of the moments highly elevated by the decision to have a fully voiced game and choosing high caliber talent (let's not talk about Radiant Dawn's voice acting).

Questionable support timing.

One issue I had came right after the scene when I viewed Dimitri's supports. The nature of some - like his with Raphael and Alois - didn't quite line up with the character I saw in dialogue right after. I wish they staggered them a bit more or got picker about what you could get in part 1 or 2.

This isn't limited to Dimitri either. In the same support batch, I also got a Marianne B support where she still had no confidence or self-worth. And then like 10 minutes later I talk to her in the monastery and she mentions about how seeing all the death in Grondor made her value her life even more.

In the past, I've also received entirely valid opinions that Dorothea in part 2 is hard to understand because she's cherry and flirty in her supports, and morose and hates the war in her monastery stuff, making her seem inconsistent.

It's a bit jarring. It's not really an issue for characters who don't change much like Edelgard or Raphael, but even for characters with more subtle differences than Dimitri, Marianne, and Dorothea - like, say, Lorenz - you get a lot of weird stuff because of supports. I just think Dimitri's stands out because he's a main character with a really prominent, important turning point for his growth.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #azure moon #fe3h #fe16

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