#keep in mind this is the rough draft so there may or may not be some small changes

[phoenixtakaramono]

Truce - Ch3 Preview 3/?

Keep in mind this is from an earlier rough draft so there may or may not be some differences in the final draft version on AO3.

Context for who Doctor Peculiar is in the comics (why, yes, the entire purpose of bringing him into the story despite this being a short cameo is 1) an Easter egg reference, and 2) to foreshadow Billy’s plan for SwingWing and—by extension—Tek Knight in this chapter for the last scene in the chapter involving Butcher’s superhero debut/ his “surprise bday gift” for Homelander’s July 4th birthday special):

You can read the previous sneak peek here (it’s an earlier draft so there’ll be some differences in the final AO3 version)

Chapters 1-2 can be read here:

(AO3 🔗)

[nonsensical-shitposting]

Okay, trying to get my rough ideas for the Team Snakereverse AU onto the screen (and also test out my editing capabilities)- the original concept for the AU was just to reverse the initial positions of Vi, Kabbu, and Leif from canon, but then it snowballed immensely from there. Here’s our lovable protagonists, with descriptions of what they’re up to under the cut:

Sick of her job as an underpaid, overworked contractor scavenging from the Fallen Hive, Vi was exiled from the Bee Kingdom on the termite overseers’ orders after she tried to organize a strike. She’d barely arrived in Defiant Root when Astotheles’ Metal Island Mercenaries struck the settlement, during which Vi distinguished herself by helping fight off the mercenaries armed with nothing but a pair of hastily-repaired bayonets trashed by termite soldiers (which she refers to as her “Beeyonets”). Disillusioned by the mercenaries’ modus operandi and disgusted with the local termite garrison’s reluctance to properly defend Defiant Root during the raid, Vi took off in search of somewhere she could meet with like-minded bugs and help put an end to the Termite Kingdom’s imperialism and negligence, both in the Bee Kingdom and across the rest of Bugaria. At first, she thought she’d found a place like that in the Ant Kingdom’s Underground Haven, but quickly learned that the bugs there were more interested in debating minuscule details of theory rather than taking any kind of action and got herself kicked out for complaining about this too much. Upon finding the Explorers’ Association, she realized a job there would give her a perfect cover for traveling across Bugaria searching for other prospective revolutionaries... and, hey, if she’s being honest, the idea of getting to track down ancient treasures and making sure they end up in the hands of bugs who actually deserve them (such as herself) sounds pretty good too!

Already badly injured, Kabbu was left semi-conscious after being thrown into an ancient crystal early on in the battle with the Beast, resulting in Bit and his master dragging him into a hiding place and telling him to wait for an opening to flee, which he did only to watch both of them die as they tried to bait the Beast into following them away from where they’d left him. Realizing too late that being slammed into the crystal had given him control of earth magic, a furious Kabbu buried the Beast alive, tearing up vast tracts of the surrounding swamplands before coming to his senses. Fleeing in shame and fear, Kabbu blamed himself for his friends’ deaths, believing that if he hadn’t been there they would’ve been able to escape from the Beast and survived, and resolved that he would never explore or use his new powers ever again. Kabbu took a desk job at the Explorers’ Association upon arriving in the Ant Kingdom in an attempt to punish himself and continued holding himself to his vow to not explore. Unfortunately, seeing a bright, driven young bee on the verge of being rejected as an explorer weakened Kabbu’s resolve, and before he knew it he was volunteering to team up with Vi temporarily so she could get an Association permit. Kabbu privately promised himself that he’d quit and return to his old job the moment Vi found someone else who’d be willing to join her exploration team, but now that he’s getting attached to both of his new friends (especially considering how much more he’s been starting to feel like his old self after adventuring with Vi and Leif), he may end up asking for his temporary placement on Vi’s team to be made permanent.

Discovered by Vi and Kabbu in the upper levels of the sunken Rubber Stronghold, this blue-and-yellow moth is a unique case in that they’re actually two beings sharing one body. The first is Leif, a moth who died in the Stronghold after a flood cut him off from his team during a scouting mission, and the second is the cordyceps that crawled into his body and inadvertently got his brain working again, which Vi dubbed Corder upon learning that connecting to Leif’s brain had allowed the cordyceps to develop a mind of its own. Leif is not exactly happy with the circumstances of his resurrection (which Corder has been very apologetic about), but both recognize that they can’t currently survive without the other, so they’ve worked out a deal where they copilot Leif’s body until they figure out a more permanent solution. Due to Leif’s lack of combat abilities, Corder’s been trying to fill in there by letting out one of its sharper-edged tendrils and making it look like a whip, though for the sake of keeping up their cover it has to control one of Leif’s hands to hold the “whip” when other bugs are around. Yes, they do get a lot of questions about whether a whip is really a practical weapon- one thing Corder and Leif can agree on is to make a running gag out of responding with different, increasingly ridiculous answers every time.

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 1/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU 

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

This is chapter one of…I don’t know. I may continue if enough people are enjoying it.  Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Oh God, Martin thought to himself as fur began to emerge from under his skin, covering newly reshaped limbs and hiding sharp claws from sight, Jon’s going to be so mad at me!

Oh no, Martin panicked as blunt teeth gave way to pointed canines, this is so unprofessional of me! 

Only then did Martin allow the terrible question to enter his mind – what was he becoming? 

He should have known better than to pick up an unfamiliar book lying around in the archives of the Magnus Institute, the academic home of research into the paranormal and esoteric. At the very least, if he was going to pick it up, he should have done so only to tidy it away. Why he had felt compelled to open the tome and sneak a peek inside, he couldn’t say. 

As the world around him lurched into a new angle, Martin could only think about the presentation his boss had delivered a few weeks prior. 

Obviously, you shouldn’t be dealing directly with any artefacts of note, Jon had said dryly, tapping the large screen behind him that showed countless examples of seemingly mundane objects. We have a department for that for a reason. However, it’s not unusual for one or two to slip through the cracks; particularly books, given the extensive nature of our library. If you should check out a book as part of your research and you see the name ‘Leitner’ involved in any capacity, do not read the book. Put it down immediately. Martin, that goes double for you – if you even think the word ‘Leitner’ near a book, I want you to turn around immediately and walk back to your desk – do you understand? 

Had he seen the name ‘Leitner’ in this book? There had been a torn bookplate in the front, and maybe the remaining letters had been ‘ner’...

Did it matter? He was paying for his stupidity now, Martin thought. All fur and claws and fangs, and oh, what hideous monster would emerge from what had once been Martin Blackwood? 

Martin lay down, his fluffy belly flat against the floor, and pushed his newly shaped paws over his eyes. Oh, it didn’t bear thinking about! Jon would burst in at any moment, see some horrible creature, not realise it was Martin, and—

“Martin?” 

As if on cue, the door to the shared office of the archival assistants opened, and in walked Jonathan Sims. “Martin, have you taken your lunch break? Tim and Sasha have already gone, and Elias has been getting very prickly about me making sure you all…oh. Martin?” 

Martin had scampered under the table in hope of avoiding his boss’ gaze. Treated now to a blurry view of the man’s green socks and scuffed brogues, he watched as Jon entered the office. “Oh. Good. He’s gone already,” Jon said to himself with the air of a job well done. He turned to leave, and Martin had almost let out a sigh of relief when the man’s feet stopped. 

No, no! Martin thought, Go! You can’t see me like this! I bet I’m the ugliest monster, all fangs and talons and hair all over the place! 

A scarred hand appeared in Martin’s imperfect vision, scooping up the fallen book that was to blame for Martin’s plight. A new fear sprang up in Martin’s mind then – what if Jon read the book too? 

He had to do it. He had to save him! Even if it meant Jon would see Martin’s disgusting new form, he had to keep Jon safe! 

He lunged with a power that Martin hadn’t ever known before. A screeching roar – or a miaow, really – pierced the air, and Martin all but bodyslammed Jon’s hands, knocking the book firmly from his grip. It span across the room and slid under the bookshelf out of sight. 

Now he’d done it. Now Jon would see Martin in all his revolting glory – witness what that awful Leitner book had turned him into. If he didn’t recognise Martin, as surely he wouldn’t, he’d no doubt call security, and then what would happen? Would Martin be taken down? Locked away in the tunnels for examination and research? Worse, what if Jon did recognise him? He’d know that Martin had messed up in a spectacular fashion, and he’d be so disappointed in him. Would he be the one to tell Martin nothing could be done, that the effects of a Leitner were irreversible and that they’d have to–

“Good Lord! Oh…oh, now, where did you come from, little one?” 

Jon’s voice took on a bizarrely soft tone that Martin had never heard before. He couldn’t respond, however, as thin hands had latched gently around his torso and lifted him from the ground, a startled purr rumbling from Martin’s chest. 

All of a sudden, Jon’s face filled Martin’s entire view. And for once, no scowl darkened his features. In fact, Jon almost looked…delighted? 

Martin blinked. 

“Mrrow?” 

Not once in over a year of working for Jonathan Sims had Martin managed to coax a smile from the other man. All his best attempts, his best teas, his ridiculous amount of overtime to finish his reports to a standard Jon would accept, all his own smiles and attempts to cheer the man up, not one of these gargantuan efforts had been rewarded with a smile. 

And now, with one confused miaow, Martin had unlocked a smile from Jon. 

“How did you get in here? Did you get lost? Did Martin leave the door open again? Oh, I bet he did. I bet he did!” Jon repeated, descending into a cooing baby voice that would have had Martin howling with laughter if he could still laugh. Jon shifted the perplexed Martin to sit over his shoulder more comfortably, the book all but forgotten. “But you’re such a handsome boy! And no collar? Poor little man, have you been wandering around looking for some food and shelter? We’ll get you sorted, don’t you worry, little champion.” 

What…the hell…is happening? Martin wondered, even as a big, goofy smile curled his lips. 

Jon was carrying him. Out of the office. Stroking his back. Calling him a little champion and handsome. 

“How about a saucer of warm milk, hmm? Does that sound good? Would that set you right, hmm?” 

It was only then that Martin’s mind dragged itself out of the dazed, happy fog to piece together what Jon was saying. Why he was saying it. 

Martin had not been transformed into some vicious beast from the eldritch corners of reality. 

As they passed by Jon’s office, Martin caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass pane of the door. 

A large cat with white and orange fur blinked back at him from over Jon’s shoulder. 

──── •✧• ────

Martin was, of course, the talk of the town after everyone returned from their lunch break. Funny, then, that not one person actually mentioned Martin. 

“So you’re gonna take him to the vets, right, boss?” Tim asked, rolling another roll of Sellotape towards Martin, apparently expecting him to play with it. Martin, on principle, refused, turning his nose up and huffing. 

Tim, come on! You’re back, Sasha’s back, who isn’t back yet? Ask where Martin is! he thought. 

“He seems healthy enough to me,” Jon replied, not looking up from the paperwork he was pouring over. “Why?” 

“To get his microchip checked? Get him back to his owners?” 

That made Jon look up, a flash of shock and upset clear in his widened eyes and slightly parted lips. “His ow— No, no, he hasn’t even got a collar on. No owners.”

“Right, but by law, cats have to be microchipped. Maybe his collar fell off or something?” A hint of amusement danced in Tim’s questions; Martin could tell that Tim was toying with Jon. Jon, however, hadn’t picked up on that. 

“M-maybe,” he replied stiffly. “Right, yes, fine. Vets after work. But he can stay here for now. Till the end of the shift.” 

Martin wandered over to Jon, sitting himself down by the leg of his chair and craning his neck up, tail swishing behind him. 

Right, now that’s sorted, onto the next obvious issue in the office, Jon, he thought. Which is…the obvious and mysterious disappearance of—

“Martin’s late back off his lunch,” Jon noted, checking the office clock with a critical glance. “Could you check the archival assistants’ office please, Tim? Maybe drop him a text. Probably got himself distracted by some…particularly interesting bollards or something…”

Sure, there’d been an insult mixed in there, but Jon had noticed! He’d noticed Martin’s disappearance, and that meant Martin had to repay his kindness! 

Fuelled with delight, the cat sprang up onto Jon’s lap, earning him a surprised chuckle. “Ah! Well, hello! Y-yes, you can sit there while I work, Champion. That’s fine.” 

Tim snorted as he headed out of Jon’s office, arching an eyebrow at the pair of them. “Champion? Are you kidding me? He’s a classic Fluffy or Ginger or Marshmallow or something.”

“Nonsense. He’s brimming with regal strength. A Champion if I ever saw one,” Jon retorted with a sniff, deeming the argument not worth his attention beyond that and turning back to his work. “Let me know if Martin gets back to you. And if he shows up, send him in here.” 

The newly named Champion stretched out lazily on Jon’s lap, settling down for a cheeky nap on company time. 

Already here, Jon. 

──── •✧• ────

[3rachaslut]

SMUT ! MINORS DNI ! dom!changbin X sub!reader femme

cw: slapping, degradation, pet names (slut, whore etc), rough, choking, jealousy, dom/sub dynamic

this has been sat in my drafts for about 8 months lol (i’ve proof read about 4 times but i got bored so i’m sorry for any mistakes there may be)

EVERYTHING WRITEN IS CONSENSUAL ON BOTH PARTS

It was 11:45pm and you, Changbin, Chan and Jisung had been in the studio since 6:30pm. Mumbles could be heard in front of you, although you wasn’t really listening, sipping on your iced coffee to keep you awake. You never was any help work wise in the studio but your boyfriend Changbin and the boys loved having you around and you loved it too.

“Y/n” Jisung called over to you and you whipped your head to look at him. “Listen to this bridge, what do you think is missing?”. You made your way towards him, taking the headphones and sitting gently on his knee. Changbin shot daggers in yours and Jisung’s direction. His glare on the both of you caused a smirk to tug on your lips, although jisung didn’t notice.

You readjust yourself, grabbing onto the sides of the chair, lifting yourself up and gently back down onto his lap again. You listen to the recording, feigning innocence as you slowly push yourself backwards into Jisung’s lap, causing him to cough and attempting to hide the slight moan he just let out. You spin idly side to side on the chair and the friction from you moving over his crotch was causing a reaction from Jisung and you felt it straight away. You smirk as you turn your head from the recording to face Jisung and rais your eyebrows. He taps either side of your waist twice, indicating you to get off his lap. He clears his throat. “Sorry guys, I’ll be right back, I just need to use the bathroom. Two seconds”. He quickly walks out of the studio, praying his friends didn’t notice the tent forming in his joggers.

You briefly look Changbin’s way and his death glare on Jisung never left his eyes, only when he was out the door to the studio did he tilt his head to look at you. You shrug in faux confusion as he looks at you with narrow eyes, causing a sly smile to form on your lips.

“Okay so.. any ideas y/n?” Chan asks, looking at you with tired eyes and Changbin interjects. “Chan hyung, we’ve been at this for hours! I say we go home, get some rest and come back to it tomorrow with a clear mind”.

“Yeah okay, let’s call it a night” Chan begins to pack his stuff and you feel Changbin’s threatening eyes back on you. You make your way to the sofa and sip on your iced coffee, pulling out your phone.

“Night guys, I’ll text Ji and let him know we’re heading home so don’t wait up for him” Chan says, walking out the studio, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Changbin barely waits until the door was closed until he shoots up off his chair and marches over to you. Hearing his footsteps getting closer, a smirk makes its way on your lips.

“What the fuck was that y/n?!” He spits out as his form towers over you and his fierce aura makes you shift slightly in your seat.

“What?” You ask, faking innocence and still staring at your phone. “I don’t know what you mean”. You shake your head in confusion as you continue to look down, too scared to look at him.

“Don’t play fucking dumb y/n! You know exactly what you did! Acting like that much of a whore around my bandmates that Ji had to excuse himself. Fucking slut” He says with narrow eyes and a feigned disgusted look on his face.

“I’m talking to you y/n..” Changbin says sternly, grabbing your chin and forces you to look at him. “When I talk to you, you fucking look. at. me.” He emphasises his words with a slap across the face, causing you to whimper slightly at the sudden pain but you couldn’t ignore the way your clit throbbed from the sting on your cheek. You giggle at him, the brat in you loving this. He shakes his head at you in disapproval.

“Slut” he says, throwing you backwards onto the sofa. He towers over you and puts his hand around your throat, adding just enough pressure for you to let out a strained moan.

“Stupid girl… you would have thought you’d know better by now..” Your eyes rapidly scan his face sensing a ‘punishment’ was incoming, although Changbin’s punishments only ever had you internally begging for more.

Changbin roughly grabs both your legs and practically throws you sideways so you are lying down on the sofa. He yanks your skirt up towards your tummy and rips your panties off, tossing them somewhere onto the floor.

“We won’t be needing them, will we doll?” He says with a chuckle. He forcefully parts your legs so your were spread out right in front of him, your breath hitching at the sudden air against your clit. You look away from him in shame at being so exposed when your boyfriend was still fully clothed.

“Such a pretty pussy” Changbin coos whilst his fingers brush over your sensitive clit, rubbing small circles and making you writhe in pleasure.

“Let’s see how red I can make it baby, hmm?” He laughs as your eyes widen, already knowing the punishment you were about to receive. His words were quickly followed by a firm slap to your pussy, making your whole body jolt. You let out a gasp from the sudden, intense stimulation. Changbin was always so brutal with this specific punishment, so you certainly knew the pain and pleasure you was about to endure.

“’m sorry sir! Didn’t mean to! I’ll be good!” you frantically beg. Changbin laughs and quickly dismisses your pleas by delivering another harsh slap to your pussy and you squirm underneath him. Your face contorts from the torment and you moan loudly.

“Not so fucking bold now, are you little girl?” He says with a sadistic look on his face, teasingly rubbing over your sensitive clit making you whine. “I expected you to know what happens when you act like a whore around my friends baby but clearly you don’t listen” He delivered a particularly harsh slap to your pussy that elicited a loud moan from you, practically verging on a scream.

“FUCK” you cry out as tears begin to fall from your eyes. You throw your head back in fear of the next slap you were about to receive.

“Language baby” Changbin shakes his head in disapproval and raises his hand again. You flinch and squeeze your eyes as you lay in expectation of the next blow. But it never came. Confused, you lift your head off the sofa armrest and saw Changbin staring at you with a mischievous grin.

“Aw… cute” He says smirking. Another slap landed on your sensitive pussy and you squeak in pain.

“You love this don’t you? Fucking whore” He says, a look of faux disgust on his face.

“No ssir… h- ’hurtss” you whimper, panting in between words as you try to catch your breath.

“Really? Are you sure?” He takes two fingers and eagerly thrusts them into your soaked cunt, making you gasp at the intrusion then moan in pleasure. “Because your pussy is telling me you’re lying darling” He slowly speeds up his movements in your cunt and your mouth falls open as he starts to curl his fingers inside you. Your legs begin to lift upwards and close together in an attempt to make his fingers go deeper inside you. You begin to writhe in your spot, moaning uncontrollably.

“Legs” Changbin barks, instructing you to keep your legs open wide and low.

You groan in frustration and your legs began to tremble involuntary as you whine from the pleasure.

“Such a naughty girl... You’re dripping all over my fingers from getting your little pussy abused.” He laughs. “What a fucking slut” He emphasises the last word with another brutal slap to your clit that was now pulsing more than ever. You cry out and your legs automatically close together from the sudden pain.

“Y/n I swear to god, if you don’t keep those fucking legs spread, I’ll take this belt off and whip that little clit with it so hard over and over again, you’ll be sobbing for hours. Now.. keep those legs OPEN!” You flinch at his raised voice and he grips your knee with his hand, pushing it down towards the sofa.

You squirm in place as you try your best to keep your legs spread however, you feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach and you know you’re close to squirting.

“Sir! M’ close!” you yell out, your eyes scrunching together. Changbin didn’t say a word back to you instead, his fingers speeding up inside your pussy. He smirks at the scene if front of him, admiring the state he’s put you in. He takes his fingers from his unoccupied hand and rubs little circles on your clit, smirking at the scene of your body writhing underneath him.

“oh, FUCK. Bin i’m gonna come”.

“Beg.” he instructs and you do. You want nothing more than to come undone underneath him and you were prepared to throw away all your dignity right now to get it.

“Please! Please let me come! I’ll be so good, i won’t flirt with your friends anymore- ah! Ever again just please! Fuck- please let me c- cu-“ Your body is jolting uncontrollably and you’re sure you looked a state. Changbin brings his face just inches away from yours, tantalising close.

“Come for me baby” He whispers.

You scream out a thank you as you squirted over his hand, your chest heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath.

“Oh baby, you made a mess all over my hand. What do you say?” He tuts, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry I made a mess sir” you say pouting.

“And?”

“Thank you for making me cum sir”

“Good girl” He says approvingly, kissing you and grabbing your panties from the floor beside you and wiping his hand clean with them. He cups your face with his hand and rubs at your cheek.

“My beautiful girl.. I’m so proud of you. Come here” He brings you into a warm hug and you melt into his arms, smiling. As much as you loved Changbin’s punishments, you also loved his affectionate aftercare that followed, making sure you’re okay.

“I knew flirting with your friends would get me in trouble. Clearly my plan worked..” You chuckle into his chest.

“Such a brat.” He smiles and shakes his head. “Are you okay? That wasn’t too much?”

“Binnie, it was amazing!” He lifts your face to look at him and brings you into a gentle kiss, pecking your lips over and over again.

“Come on baby, let’s go home”

[wipbigbang]

2024 WIP Big Bang Schedule & FAQ!

Schedule

All times are by 11:59pm PST. Convert time zones.

Sign-ups Begin- April 15th Sign-ups Close- May 21st Check In #1- May 22nd Check In #2- June 15th Snippets Due- July 1st Art Claims Begin- July 17th Check In #3- July 22nd Check In #4- August 6th Rough Drafts Due- August 15th Posting Claims Begin- August 23rd Posting Claims Ends- September 1st Final Drafts/Art Due- September 7th Posting Starts- September 8th

FAQ

What is the WIP Big Bang? Good question! This is a Big Bang with one goal in mind: to clean out your fanfic drafts folder. These are stories that were unfinished for whatever reason, that authors returned to and completed, and the art that goes with them!

Do I need a Livejournal/Dreamwidth/AO3/etc. account to participate? No! You don’t have to have an account on anything to participate, though you will need to have somewhere to post your finished work. Having one or more accounts will help for you to follow what is going on with the bang (we crosspost to Dreamwidth and Tumblr and heavily use our Discord server at the moment), but they are not required to participate. You can always leave comments anonymously or with an opensource ID.

How many fics can we sign up for? We absolutely don’t mind multiple sign-ups. I know one year someone submitted 50 fics to finish, and got at least half of them done. We just ask that when you sign up with more than one fic you give each fic a unique user ID (please do not use the same ID for all your fics...it’s important to have different IDs for the check-ins).

Will I get emails about the bang? We do send out some emails, mostly for snippets and art claims and to ensure communication between authors and artists, but please do NOT rely on getting an email to remind you of due dates. We currently do not keep an updated email list of participants, so we only send individual emails as needed rather than mass emails.

However, email is the fastest way to communicate with the mods. If you have any questions or are having trouble communicating with your artist/author, please do email us! We will do our best to respond quickly.

What do you mean by minimum word count to enter? This is a WIP Big Bang, therefore we ask you to have at least 500 words of your story drafted when you enter.

Can an outline count towards those first 500 words that are needed at sign up? We have admitted work on an outline before so yes, if your outline is fleshed out enough to cover a 7,500 word+ fic, we’ll allow it.

Are multi-chapter fics allowed? Yes, multi-chapter fics are allowed and even more so encouraged if your fic is lengthy.

What about fics that are already posted on ao3 in part? Do those qualify for the bang? It's okay if you have posted a few chapters of your fic already (you never know when the muse deserts you, after all), we just require you to refrain from posting more until posting begins here. All we ask is that you not post any public updates to the fic until September 1st (or August 1st with the mod’s okay). We don’t want you to lose kudos and comments so don’t worry about pulling the fic down, just hold off on updates for now.

Is there a minimum word count? 7,500 words for each finished fic, but the sky's the limit, right?

I see that the fic minimum is 7500 words and that published WIPs are acceptable - but what if the WIP I’m considering is already more than 7500 words? Is the expectation to add an additional 7500 to it? No. You can add as much or as little as you need to finish the story, though we do expect at least 1,000 or so new words if your WIP already meets the word count.

What happens if an author finishes the fic they signed up with but it’s less than 7,500 words? The intent was to go over the minimum but once they got into it the story was shorter than they thought and stretching it out would make it less good. Do they have to drop out at that point? By all means, we want your stories to feel as natural as possible, and if it’s under 7,500 words you may have two options:

1 - Drop the fic for the main BB event, post it now, and wait to post it to our AO3 collection in February when we run our International Fanworks Day celebration of finishing fics that are less than 7,500 words when finished. There’s no art for the fic, but bragging rights are posted to the communities for a week.

2 - If there are enough fics that fit that category, we can do a special day of posting the fics, but you’ll have to forgo art for the fic. I, as a mod, would probably pick November 30th for the posting day, as it’s the last day of posting for the bang and I don’t think anyone will mind more than one fic that day. You can post bragging rights to the community and share the fic with everyone.

Is there anything not allowed? As long as you wrote it and you want to finish it, you're welcome to participate. RPS/RPF is fine. Incest pairings are fine. Things like that I know have been hinted at in questions asked and as long as you tag for them, we’ll allow it. Also, canon settings with mostly OCs is allowed. We just ask that it be tagged properly with any content warnings you would deem fit and be given the appropriate rating for the level of sex/violence there is in the fic. Just bear in mind that while original work is allowed you may not get art for it.

I have a fic I wrote a few years ago, but only the first couple chapters are posted on AO3 because I was never happy with the rest of it and knew it needed major revision. Is that something I could use for WIP Big Bang? The entire fic has been posted, but only on one platform, and it would be rewritten for AO3 and WIPBB. I think revising a fic for posting would work, as long as you have at least 500 words done, will have 7,500 words at a minimum when it’s done, and are planning to add more to the fic. Simply rewriting what you have would be a gray area, but if you’re going to take stuff out and add new scenes, either in the old scenes place or on its own, you should be fine.

What's the etiquette around OC-centric stories? Ones that are set in a well known fandom and use several characters, but still lean a lot on original characters? Are they discouraged, or fine? Based on my own personal experience making art for a story that had a heavy OC presence, it’s not something we discourage at all, but be forewarned when it comes to the art accompanying your fic your artist may not be able to incorporate the OCs into your art. Not everyone makes art of a hand-drawn or digitally drawn nature, so it helps if you have people for face claims ahead of art submissions, and you and your artist communicate regularly. You can also end up with art not featuring the OCs at all, just the canon characters, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Your other options are to bring in an artist you trust with your vision of your OC or to make your own art (we do allow that, we just need to be told during the check-in before art that you’re bringing in your own artist if you go that route, or that you’re doing your own art…there will not be a need to sign up in the artist’s sign up, however), or to opt-out of art entirely. So there’s plenty of options to call on when it comes time for art.

What are 'check-ins’? These are a way for us to see what you've been up to and for you to make sure you're still on track. It will give you a little nudge/reminder if you need it, but they are not compulsory. Basically a form is posted that you fill out with your user ID (unique for each fic) and a checkbox to let us know you’re still participating, plus a section for any notes for the mods.

How are the check in IDs used? They are solely for the mods organizational purposes. Each ID being for a separate story allows us to keep all the information you submit during check-ins and for snippets in one line on our spreadsheet. You don’t have to share your check in IDs with anyone else if you don’t want to.

How much progress should authors be making between each checkpoint? (Percentage-wise from our estimated total wc, I guess?) Ideally, with each check-in, you should be at least 25% closer to finishing. The end word count only really matters in that the fic needs to be at least 7,500 words when done, so it’s more your progress towards finishing that should be measured, not so much the word count.

What are the snippets requirements? In order to allow the artists to make art for the story they claimed, we require you to supply three snippets from your fic, between 500 – 1500 words each. The snippets will be sent to the artist after they have claimed your story. They're to help the artist match your story for artwork the best way he or she possibly can. It’s helpful to choose scenes or parts of scenes that you feel best represent your fic, but don’t feel like they have to be perfect to be submitted. Along with the snippets, we will send your artist the basic fic info and your email, so the two of you can collaborate more if you would both like.

What are the rough drafts requirements? For the rough drafts, stories should be at least 80% complete. You will not have to turn them in to us, just assure us that you are at that point. Anything less is at the discretion of the mods and those authors should speak to one of the mods asap.

What is, and do I need, a beta? A beta is basically a person who goes over your work to make sure that there are no spelling/grammatical errors and they can even be of assistance in helping you with story lines, etc. It is highly recommended that a beta looks over your work before posting. If you are having trouble finding a beta, try this post.

Where can I post my fic/art? Stories and art can be posted to your own personal journal, Tumblr, ff-net, AO3, or wherever you like. For those of you with AO3 accounts, we will set up a collection that will go live on the day of the posting. If you don’t currently have an AO3 account but would like one, you can contact the mods for an invitation code to see if they have any available. You can also add yourself to the AO3 Invites Request queue.

What does posting look like? Do we have to post the whole thing on the day, or can we stretch it out between when posting starts and our date? I’ve had a few longfics get killed by big bangs forcing posting to happen on a given day, and would prefer to avoid that if possible. For most fics, posting to AO3/FF.net/other places will be allowed to start in September and you can stretch it out as many posts as you want as long as the complete fic is up by your posting date (and posting dates go from September 8th to November 15th with two weeks for emergency posting). However, you can send us an ask/e-mail about posting as early as August if you have an extremely long fic/something with a long posting schedule. Mostly what we want is the fic to be completely up on the website of your choice by your posting date, and I know some people don’t want to overwhelm their readers. So we want to work with writers to give them ample time to post the story up to their posting date.

Now, as for posting to the communities, you get to choose which day your link to the story and bragging rights are posted, and as I said, we have a range of dates from September 8th to November 15th with two to three stories posting a day. If for some reason you miss your posting date, you have until November 30th to post to the community, during the two weeks of emergency posting, with a possible extension after that due to the amount of participants needing to post later. So hopefully there should be plenty of time to get a longfic up and posted to the website of your choice and our BB.

Will the three snippets per story we have to send in be the ones we want the artist to make art for? Or can it just be random snippets and then later the artist and I can check together to see which scenes would work best for art? So ideally, you and the artist will be communicating once you’re each sent each other’s contact information, and you’ll give your artist a chance to read all that you’ve written at that point. That’s what happens in most cases. If your fic gets picked by an artist and they don’t work with you, then the snippets you sent will be what the artwork will be based on. It’s a good idea to know that, while most of the time the artists work closely with the authors, there are a few exceptions to that.

How do I know when to post? Posting will be tiered; you'll each get your own posting date that you and your artist will decide on together. There will probably be four fics, plus art, posting per day between September 8th and November 30th. The post with date claims will go up on August 23rd and you'll have to choose your date by September 1st.

Posting of chapters on AO3 or your own blog (or wherever you usually post) generally starts September 1st, but you can post earlier (as early as August 1st) if you let us know you have a long story. However, posting has to be finished by your chosen posting date to the comm. One of the things we're hoping to do with the posted dates is to give everybody on the comm a little bragging time in the spotlight. You know, "this story was incomplete for this long, but I finished this sucker." If you don't have time to post your bragging rights to the communities on your chosen posting date, you can queue up a post ahead of time and we can post it on the date you picked or you can email us your bragging rights and we can post by proxy for you. Either way works for us. Art will be due on the chosen posting date to the comm.

What am I posting to the Livejournal/Dreamwidth/Tumblr community if I’m posting the fic elsewhere? You’ll be posting what we call bragging rights. It’s a small form you fill out and post to the community with a link to your fic (we’ll enable moderated posting to the Tumblr, Livejournal and Dreamwidth communities for members on August 8th). We will post a template for posting artwork and stories to the comm closer to the posting date.

Is there a minimum/maximum requirement for my art? There is no strict minimum, but we do ask artists to remember that the authors are writing a minimum of 7,500 words and your artwork should reflect that. You can do anything you like, including banners, wallpapers, icons, mixes, vids, gif sets, picspams, etc. Suggested guidelines for art are 500x500px (or equivalent of smaller pieces like banner + spacers, cover + icons, etc.) for traditional art, digital art, and manips; 2 minutes for vids; 10 songs + cover art for mixes; and 6 images for gif sets and picspams. We also ask that when you are in contact with the author, you work with them to see if there is anything specific they would like (i.e. a wallpaper, book cover, etc.). The art is your work, but having ideas doesn't hurt!

What are 'art claims'? The claims are when anonymous summaries of the story go up for artists to choose from. Artists sign-ups and art claims are the same thing; we use one form for both things, and that way the authors don’t have to sign up for an event they may not end up participating in. It is based on a 'first come, first served' basis and artists may choose up to three potential stories (in case their first choice is unavailable). If there are more stories than artists, there will be a second round of claims wherein artists may choose a second story to work with. And on until all stories are claimed for art.

If a fic up for claiming is rated explicit (R, NC-17, etc.), please only claim the story if you are over 18 years of age. Some authors may be uncomfortable working with underage artists on explicit works. We do not verify ages in any way for the bang, so this is solely on the honor system.

What do I do if I have problems or concerns about my author/artist? Sometimes authors and artists do not get along and this may cause problems with working together. If this happens to be the case with you, please email the mods and we will try to do what we can so that everyone has a chance to have fun at WIP Big Bang!

If you have not heard from your author/artist in some time after trying to contact them, you can reach out to us via email and we will try to get in touch with them for you.

Can I get an extension? Community extensions may be given in the event that the majority of the authors/artists need one. They may also be given individually under certain circumstances, but this must be discussed with the mods and will only be a short extension for posting. If you are certain that you won’t be able to finish your story in time, please let us know by July 13th.

Can I swap out a fic if my muse abandons it again? When you sign up, you give us the information on the potential fic(s) you want to write. If, say, one fic isn’t working but one you didn’t sign up for is, you can switch them out while letting the mods know if you need to change a user ID you used. It is absolutely okay to switch fics all the way up until snippets are due. By then, we hope you’ll have however many fics you plan on doing to at least 80% completion since rough drafts are due not much later. Just drop an email to the mods at wipbigbang@gmail.com with the new information (title, fandom, etc) and if you want a new sign in ID or plan to use the same one for the fic you’re replacing it with.

Can I drop out? We have high hopes that everybody who signs up can actually finish the round and share in the joy of the reveal with us, but real life can unfortunately get in the way and we completely understand! If you feel like you just cannot finish in time and no amount of assistance from us can help you, just let us know by August 13th (if at all possible).

Is it possible to be banned? We do have a banned users list. We hope to use this to encourage participants who are having issues to communicate with the mods. We want to help you! The way the ban works is that participants, either authors and artists, will be banned for dropping out without notifying a mod. This means that anyone who has not posted or talked to a mod by the time the posting period ends will be banned. Dropping out is not in and of itself a banning offense, so please do not panic if you have to drop out! We understand that there are many reasons you may need to drop, and we want to work with you.

Bans will last one round or until the issue is resolved, whichever comes first. To resolve a ban, authors will have to finish and post the story they signed up with and artists will have to finish and post the art for the story they claimed. Three bans will result in a permanent ban from the bang.

Are we allowed to participate without joining the Discord? Absolutely! The Discord server is optional, as just another way to interact with your fellow writers and get updates on important dates. It’s not mandatory you join, however.

I was just wondering if there’s any way to enter the bang anonymously? Like would it be okay to put our work in an anonymous collection on ao3 or something? Unfortunately, I can’t think of a way for that to work. The collection that we use is moderated but it’s not anonymous, and there are the bragging posts that you post on your posting day, which you would have your username on whichever platform you use.

I was just wondering whether I'm sworn to secrecy on which fics I'll be finishing up, or if I can shout it out to the world? No one is sworn to secrecy once they’ve signed up (aside from posting new parts to fic that’s already up somewhere…we ask that you refrain from doing that until at least July 1st)! We will be running Word Wars, where you can add more to a fic in a certain amount of time, and Whine Bars, where you can complain or ask for help or whatever else you feel like talking about when it comes to struggling with a fic, all after sign-ups end on a weekly basis, plus there’s the Discord server for chatting with your fellow authors and artists.

I have a question/concern that’s not mentioned here. If you need help, you can always contact a mod and we will do our best to make sure that you get your story/art finished. The best and fastest method of contact is through our email, wipbigbang@gmail.com.

[yan-lorkai]

Any headcanons for Sebastian dirty talking 👀 like the kind of things he'd say

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Casually throw this to y'all like it wasn't hidden on my drafts for some time now. No but like I can't dirty talk to save my life (+ I'm ace ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭) so I don't know if this is good? But if I don't post this now, I may never post tbh. I hope it's good lol, enjoy!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, possessive Sebby, very suggestive content, dirty talking obvs, amab and afab reader

Sebastian is a versatile lover, dedicated to you and your pleasure. And he knows how to draw out each syllable, what tone of voice to use and how to speak to make you melt in his arms. What does he normally say?

"Love, you're doing so well for me, mmh!"

"Let's see if you're capable of keeping this atitude after I'm done with you."

"You naughty little thing, you think I wouldn't notice how you were trying to tease me? You're not walking tomorrow, mark my words."

"You're so hard already, how cute! Let's see what kind of sounds you make when I swallow you whole, hmm?"

"You like when I'm rough with you, huh? Tell me, tell me how much you love my cock."

"Good girl, so good for me. Mmh, are you close? Gonna cum for me?"

"Please? Please what, darling? Enlighten me, what do you want? Do you want me to touch you here? Wanna me to be faster? slower? I can't read your mind now, can I? Don't get shy on me now, angel. Use your words!"

"Your moans always get me hard, so heavenly it's almost sinful, darling."

"You look so handsome like this - ooh, fuck, you like when I praise you? I can feel you clenching around me, my good boy. So precious for me, so good, aah!"

"You look so so gorgeous right now - ohh, riding me like that."

"Think you can top me, think you can make me scream and cry like I do you? That I like to see, angel."

"Like that, scream my name like that — ahh I'm close!"

"Cum on my tongue for me. You tastes so fucking sweet."

"Who owns this pussy? Who? That’s right. I do. I own your fucking pussy, your ass and your mouth. I own everything you are, darling. Never forget this."

"You did so well for me, love. But do not be fooled, I'm not done with you just yet!"

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Let Me Show You

aegon x sister!reader x aemond 

The Usual Part 2 but can def be read alone!

Summary: Aegon and Aemond know they’re on your mind since the other night and take pleasure in watching you blush and avoid them. Aegon has a couple tricks for them to help you find sleep, which has been escaping you the past couple of days. 

Warnings: 18+ masturbation, oral(f + m receiving), p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, double penetration, swearing

Authors Note: no plot again :) like none x

Word Count: 2.4k 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s only been a couple of days since our rendezvous in the pleasure house but it’s all I can think about. My cheeks burn every time I’m in their presence and they just smirk at me. I don’t know if they’re waiting for me to go up to them but I can’t seem to find the courage. I just avoid eye contact and hope they don’t feel my absolute want pouring off of my body. 

“The maester said you’ve been having trouble finding sleep?” our mother looks to me from across the dinner table. 

“Yes,” I clear my throat. “I may seek a sleeping draft tonight if it still escapes me.” my voice barely a whisper as I drag my eyes to my mothers. 

“We can help tire you out.” Aegon leans in and murmurs in my ear causing my cheeks to heat. 

I try to focus on my dinner as Aegon slowly scoots my chair closer to him. His hands travel up my thigh and I scold myself for wishing he was beneath my skirts. I clench my thighs together as I feel a deeper blush creeping up my neck. I hear Aegon chuckle next to me and I look up and see that Aemond is staring at us with a smirk on his lips.

“I wish I could eat you for dinner.” Aegons voice is low and taunting before he sips on his wine. I have to swallow my whimper at his words and steel myself.

“I’m not feeling well, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the night.” I stand abruptly and my mother looks to me.

“Are you okay?” her brows scrunch as she looks at me with concern. 

“I just need to lay down.” I shake my head leaving the halls in a rush. 

My slippered feet pad up the stairs rushing past the guards standing sentry. I push into my chambers and slam the doors behind me. I start pulling my dress off my flushed body as I begin to overheat. Once I’m left in my slip I collapse to the bed in a huff. I’m not risking going to a pleasure house again so my fingers will have to do for the night.

I lean back into the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. I ghost my hands over my nipples pretending their Aemonds soft touch. I cry out as I pinch one as my hips grind into nothing. I trail my other hand down my navel and slip a tantalizing finger through my wetness teasing myself. The second I swirl my fingers around my bud a whimper escapes my lips. 

“Aegon,” his name slips from my mouth before I can stop it. 

My fingers speed up their movements and I offer rough touches to my chest to imitate both of them. My hips chase my hand as I allow both of their names to fall from my lips. I get lost in my touch and pleasure, allowing my chambers to fade from around me. 

“Fuck, please Aemond,” my voice cracks as I dip a finger inside myself. I feel my pleasure coiling as my hips keep pushing off the bed. Whimpers fall from my mouth as I slip a second finger in and shutter.

“Gods I can’t watch anymore.” I jump back into the headboard as I snap my eyes open and see Aegon smirking next to Aemond who’s stalking over to the bed. 

“How long have you both been here?” my voice squeaks as Aemond crawls over me. 

“Long enough to hear how badly you need us to help you.” he chuckles dipping his head down to capture my lips as his fingers slide through my wetness. 

“Remember what I said brother.” Aegon chuckles coming to sit next to us on the bed and watches as I writhe beneath Aemond. 

“I don’t see the point.” Aemond sighs removing his fingers from me leaving me wanting for release. 

“Let me show you.” Aegon grins licking his lips. “How badly do you want to come my sweet sister?” his voice low as he pushes two fingers into my core. 

“Very badly, Aegon, please,” I mewl bucking my hips into his hand. 

He starts pumping his fingers into me and circles his thumb around my slick bud. Sharp pants fall from my lips as I chase my high. My legs begin to shake and he pulls his hand away and laughs at my frustrated whine. 

“What’s wrong?” his licks his fingers watching me. 

“Why did you stop?” I pout reaching out for his hand. 

“I didn’t feel like you wanted it enough.” I fist the sheets at his words and turn my eyes to Aemond pleading. 

“Aem, please,” my voice soft as I blink to him. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” he starts to dip down my body leaving a trail with his tongue. 

“Brother if you let her come I’ll make sure you don’t.” Aegons voice carries a sense of authority that has me clenching my thighs together. 

“Mm hear that? Aegon thinks he’s in charge tonight.” he chuckles as he licks along my thighs. 

“Aemond please,” I buck my hips up into his face. 

He licks through my wetness and I sigh falling back into my pillow. Aegon turns my head with his hands and locks me into a rough kiss. His teeth nip at my lip as I grind against Aemonds face. My whimpers become more high pitched as I feel my pleasure coiling. Aegon pulls off of me and tries to push Aemond from between my legs. 

“Aemond,” his voice is firm as he tangles his fingers roughly in his smooth locks. My legs start to shake and I begin arching off the bed. Just a couple more swirls and- 

“I know when to stop.” Aemond lifts up from me and I let out a strangled cry. 

“Please, please, I’ll be good please,” tears slip down my cheeks. 

“I know you will.” Aegon chuckles lowly. I wipe my cheeks as he comes into view undressed. My legs open wider as I take in his length and he looks at me with dark eyes. 

“Let her come, Aegon.” Aemond has a serpentine smile as he looks at my squirming body. 

“Not yet.” he shakes his head before he dips down over me. “Gunna use this tight cunt for my pleasure.” he shoves into my core and I sob as he splits me open. 

He ruts into me while moans pour from my mouth. I try to grab onto him but he holds my hands to the bed while he slams his hips. I try to control my whimpers hoping he won’t know that I’m about to burst. I’m about to let go when he pulls out of me suddenly. He kneels back and looks down at me stroking his cock. 

“Aegon, please,” I sit up and reach for his red, leaking member. 

I crawl to him and press my lips against the side of his shaft. I trail my tongue along the underneath until I reach his tip. He groans as I swirl around his leaking slit and sink down on him. Aemonds hands grip at my hips as his hardened length pushes through my wetness. I moan around Aegon as Aemond pushes in. 

“Should we let her come?” Aegon pants looking to Aemond. 

“I’m not pulling out until I fill her.” Aemond grunts snapping his hips into mine. 

I sigh around Aegon at the promise of release. As Aemond pushes in Aegon pulls out. They’re relentless and my high sneaks up on me. I choke against Aegon as I pulse around Aemond. Aemonds hips never falter as he continues to slam into me. 

“You’re doing so good.” Aemond grunts rolling his hips. 

Aegon cups the side of my cheek as I look up to him with pleasure and tear stained eyes. His gentle touch takes a turn as he twists his hands into my hair and starts to jerk his hips into my mouth. I’m gasping for breath any chance I get as Aemond continues at his savage pace. Aegon twitches down my throat and I swallow everything he gives me. 

I collapse to the bed as Aemond pushes my chest down on the bed keeping his hand there as he repeatedly slams into me. I feel my pleasure burst through me again as I sob into the bed. His hips stutter as he fills me pulling out quickly. I lay there with my legs spread and my core up in the air as I try to catch my breath. 

“Perfect position.” I feel the bed dip behind me as my chest continues to heave. “Now we’re gunna make up for all of the orgasms we stole from you.” Aegons fingers push into me and I sigh burying my head into the pillow. 

He supports my lower abdomen as he pumps his fingers into me mercilessly. My thighs quake as I explode around him feeling Aemonds seed seep out of me. Aegon scoops it into his fingers and pushes it back into me. Aemond looks down at my face smoothing my hair as I whimper. 

“Is Aegon making you feel good?” Aemond smiles down at me.

“Yes, so good,” I push my hips back into his hand and he starts to curl his fingers. My hips almost give out once Aemonds fingers brush against my bud. 

“Come for us pretty girl.” Aemond coaxes my pleasure as my body gives out. 

When I open my eyes again I’m laying against Aemonds chest propped up and Aegon is waiting with his face at my core looking up to me. My eyes widen as he smiles before softly licking at my bud. Aemonds hands cup my breasts and roll my nipples. Aegons tongue slips into my center and I cry out. 

“Aegon,” I pant as Aemond continues to tweak my hardened buds. 

“Are you gunna drown Aegon in your juices?” Aemond licks on my neck and I whimper. 

Aegon grunts in approval as his tongue ferociously starts to lick at me. My legs try to clamp around his head but Aemond holds them open with his legs baring me to Aegons attacks. He laps at me like a starved man and I feel my pleasure rock through my body as I shake against his face. 

“You taste simply divine.” Aegon licks his lips crawling up to me to capture my lips. 

I sigh into his mouth as I feel his length press up against me. He grinds me back into Aemond and I feel his hips jerk up against my back. I’m squished between them as they pepper me with kisses and tease me with their fingertips. 

“Got another idea.” Aegon looks from me to Aemond. 

“Mm what now?” Aemond pulls up from my neck. 

“Let us both fuck you. Together.” Aegons fingers slide between us back to my heat. He gathers wetness and continues past my core and circles a slick digit around my tight hole. 

“Aegon,” I squeak as he continues to watch my face as he pushes against the opening. 

“Aemond make her come with your fingers.” my breath catches as Aemond starts circling my throbbing bud as Aegon starts to push a finger in. 

Aegon slowly works his finger into me and I let out soft gasps as Aemond starts circling faster. I grind down onto Aegons finger and whine as he starts with a second finger. I look down to Aegon with low lids as he watches his fingers disappear into me. Aemond slides a finger down and dips into my core and I sob clenching around their fingers. 

I rest back against Aemonds chest as they slowly pull their fingers from me. Aegon pulls me forward and I fall against his chest. I rest on his chest and he slips up into my core. I sigh as he fills me and my head falls to his neck. I feel Aemond push our legs further open and settle behind us. 

“Fuck Aemond,” Aegon groans as I feel Aemonds fingers brush against where me and Aegon are joined, collecting wetness. I hear Aemond let out soft puffs of breath as he pumps himself, coating himself in our release. I feel him push against my tight hole and a whine bubbles out of my throat. 

“Relax for me.” he hums rubbing my hips. 

Aegon stills his hips and goes between us to rub my bud. I sob into his neck as I feel Aemond slowly push into me. My breath catches in my throat as he slides into me. Once he settles in me I focus on the full feeling of them both. Aegon jerks his hips up pushing me back on to Aemond. 

“Fuck,” Aemond grips at my hips tightly.  

I clench around them at the delicious fullness I’m being offered and fully let them take over my body. As Aegon pulls out Aemond pushes in. My body trembles with pleasure as I come holding them still inside. 

“Such a good fucking girl.” Aegons words slurred from pleasure as him and Aemond start a faster pace. 

My body is buzzing, I’ve never felt this much pleasure as I let them use me. I feel Aegons hips falter as his warmth spreads throughout me. I clench around them both and Aemond is immediately filling me from behind. I sob at the fullness of their seed and lengths still buried in me. Aemond pulls out and falls back and Aegon lifts me off of him. 

Whimpers fall from my lips as I feel their spend dripping between my thighs. They lay me between them as they kiss me and pepper me with compliments. Their hands travel all over my body trying to help me relax and one of their hands looks to find a home between my legs which I squeeze them shut shaking my head. 

“I can’t anymore.” I my body still shaking. 

“You’re okay,” Aemond shushes me pulling the blankets over us. 

“Rest our sweet girl.” Aegon kisses my brow and pulls me to him while Aemond drapes across my back as sleep finds me quicker than it ever has with a draft from a maester. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

damn here we go again 🧎🏼‍♀️

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @anaviieiraaa @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang

honorary tag from The Usual @janelongxox

[roseyreveries]

Journalism

Summary: You’re a journalist chasing the Daredevil story, hell-bent on uncovering his identity.

CW: injuries, blood, angst, sort of enemies to lovers?

A/N: This was originally a Batman x reader fic I had saved in my drafts for a while, but I’m not all that into Batman anymore so I remastered it into being Daredevil x reader. Apologies if there are any discrepancies I may have missed <3

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The neon buzz of Hell’s Kitchen bled into the haze of cheap whiskey and crumpled notes spread before you on the bar. The Daredevil story wasn’t just a story—it was the story, the one that could finally yank you out of the shallow waters of clickbait articles and catapult you into headlines that mattered. But Hell’s Kitchen’s devil wasn’t making it easy. He moved like smoke, left chaos like a storm, and stayed maddeningly out of reach.

And then there was Matt Murdock.

The smug, blind lawyer with his disarming charm and infuriating habit of dodging your questions. Every time you brought Daredevil up, he’d flash that crooked smile, toss out a few words that said absolutely nothing, and leave you steaming. You knew he knew more than he let on—he was practically daring you to figure it out.

And, hell, you were close.

“Rough night?”

The voice slid through the din, smooth and calculated.

Your stomach tightened before you even turned. Speak of the devil.

Matt Murdock stood there, his red-tinted glasses catching the flicker of the neon sign outside. His tie hung loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to make him look more dangerous than approachable. He didn’t wait for an invitation, just slid onto the stool next to you like he owned the damn place.

“Murdock,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. “What a surprise.”

He tilted his head, smirking in that way that made you want to smack it right off his face—or maybe wipe it off with your lips, depending on the day. Tonight, though, you weren’t in the mood.

“Surprise?” he echoed, his tone light but his words sharp. “Come on, you don’t really believe that, do you?”

You set your pen down and turned to face him fully, your pulse thrumming. “Let me guess. You just happened to wander into this exact bar, at this exact time, knowing I’d be here?”

“I don’t need to guess,” he said casually, resting his elbow on the bar. “You scribble loud enough to wake the dead. Or maybe I just have a good sense of where trouble likes to settle.”

“Trouble? That what you call me now?” you shot back, arching a brow.

“I call it like I see it—or hear it, in my case.” His smirk deepened, and there was something wolfish about it.

Your grip on the glass tightened. “You’re awfully invested in what I’m doing, Murdock. Makes me wonder why.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You’re chasing shadows in a city full of monsters. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get eaten alive.”

Your heart skipped, but you refused to let it show. “I can handle myself.”

“Maybe you can,” he said, his tone edging into something darker. “But Daredevil? He’s not the type to appreciate being stalked. He doesn’t take well to being cornered.”

There it was, the warning hidden behind his honeyed words. You met his gaze—or where you thought his gaze would be behind those glasses—and leaned closer. “Funny. You talk about him like you’ve had dinner together.”

He smiled again, slow and deliberate, as if you’d just given him exactly what he wanted. “You’d be surprised what a good listener can pick up. Something you should keep in mind, yeah?”

The air between you crackled, his words dripping with implication. You were sure now—he knew something, probably everything. But Matt Murdock wasn’t just a lawyer. He was a wall, and cracking him would take more than words.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence and lifting your glass. “I guess I’ll just have to keep digging. Trouble’s kind of my thing.”

His smile lingered, razor-sharp. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. Just don’t dig yourself too deep. Some holes are harder to climb out of than others.”

The fire escape creaked softly under your weight as you climbed, the chill of the night air biting at your skin. You heard from a sweet old lady who lived nearby that she’d see him standing here some nights. You weren’t sure what you’d expected to find when you followed the whisper of a lead to this rooftop, but as you pulled yourself up, your breath hitched.

There he was.

Daredevil.

He sat perched on the edge of the fire escape, one knee up, his red suit blending into the shadows like he belonged to the night itself. He didn’t move as you approached, didn’t even turn his head, but somehow you knew he was aware of you. His stillness felt like an acknowledgment, like he’d been waiting.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be here,” you said softly, pulling yourself fully onto the landing.

“I knew you’d come. Heard the elderly give her statement to you the other day,” he replied, his voice low, almost detached.

You paused, shivering under his cold, steady presence. “Then you know why I’m here.”

He tilted his head slightly, and though you couldn’t see his eyes beneath the mask, you felt the weight of his attention like a physical thing. “I know everything I need to about you.”

That stopped you in your tracks. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, but you forced yourself to steady your voice. “If you already know, then you know I need an interview. Just ten minutes of your time. That’s all I’m asking.”

He let out a quiet exhale, the kind that wasn’t quite a sigh but carried the weight of one. “No.”

You blinked, stunned at the finality of his tone. “What? You didn’t even think about it!”

“There’s nothing to think about,” he said, standing now, his movements fluid and effortless. He stepped closer, his boots landing softly on the metal grating. “You’re chasing a story you don’t fully understand, putting yourself in danger you’re not prepared for.”

You squared your shoulders, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “I can handle myself. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I know what I’m risking.”

His jaw tightened, but his tone remained even. “You think you know. But you don’t. And you won’t—because I’m not giving you an interview.”

Your frustration boiled over, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Why not? You talk like you’re on some crusade to help people, but you won’t let them know who you really are. You hide in the shadows and leave everyone guessing while people like me try to tell the truth!”

His head turned slightly, the mask catching the faint glint of the city lights. “The truth?” he repeated, his voice soft but cutting. “The truth doesn’t change what I do. It doesn’t make people safer. All it does is make them targets.”

You faltered, the conviction in his tone slicing through your determination. He wasn’t just cold—he was certain, and that certainty rattled you.

“I…” you began, but the words died in your throat.

He turned back toward the edge of the fire escape, his posture rigid. “If you want to take a picture when I leave, go ahead. That’s all I’ll give you.”

Your heart sank at the finality in his voice. “That’s it? A picture? No words, no explanation?”

“No,” he said simply, the word dropping like a stone between you. “Because anything I say, anything I give you, will only pull you deeper into something you’re not ready for.”

Despite his coldness, there was something in his tone—a faint thread of concern that softened the blow just enough to sting.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly.

He paused for a moment, the silence stretching unbearably before he finally spoke. “Because people who get too close to me usually end up hurt.”

With that, he stepped onto the railing, his balance effortless, and turned back to you one last time. “Take your picture, if you want. But stay out of this. For your sake.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost, leaving you alone with your unanswered questions and a hollow ache in your chest.

The next few weeks turned into a twisted game, a dance you hadn’t signed up for but couldn’t seem to stop. Every time you got close to something—anything—Matt was there, slipping into your path with maddening precision. It was almost as if he wanted to frustrate you, to keep you chasing your tail.

One afternoon, as you stepped out of the courthouse with your notebook in hand, he appeared out of nowhere. His cane tapped lightly against the pavement, but the smirk on his face told you this wasn’t some random coincidence.

“Let me guess,” he drawled, falling into step beside you. “You’re here to dig up dirt on Daredevil’s last fight? Hoping for a juicy quote, maybe a headline?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at him. “Do you have a tracker on me or something?”

He chuckled, annoyingly unbothered. “You’re predictable,” he said with a shrug. “Same courthouse, same sources. You’re practically leaving breadcrumbs.”

“Funny,” you shot back, shoving your notebook into your bag. “You sound a lot like someone trying to cover his tracks. What are you doing here, Murdock? Hoping to throw me off again?”

“Throw you off?” His tone was playful, but there was an edge beneath it. “Why would I do that? I’m just here to offer my services. You need an interview, right? I’ve got some time.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Unless you’re Daredevil, you’re not the interview I need.”

His smile faltered. Just a fraction of a second, but you caught it. The mask he wore—figurative, for now—slipped, and in its place was something raw, unguarded. It was gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to send your heart skittering.

“Careful,” he said quietly, his voice dipping low. “Throwing accusations like that could get you into trouble.”

“Is that a threat?” you challenged, stepping closer. You weren’t about to back down, not now, not when the tension between you felt like it was about to snap.

“Just an observation,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into another maddening smile. “You’re obsessed, you know that? This whole thing—chasing Daredevil—it’s consuming you.”

You scoffed, though his words landed harder than you wanted to admit. “I’m doing my job. If that makes you uncomfortable, maybe you’re the one who should be asking questions.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. “Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so desperate to figure him out.”

The proximity was unbearable—too close, too charged. His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling. You wanted to push him away, to tell him he was wrong, but something in the way he looked at you—or didn’t look at you—kept you rooted to the spot.

“Why don’t you tell me?” you said, your voice quieter now, the fight in you mingling with something else entirely.

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not the one chasing ghosts.”

With that, he stepped back, his cane tapping the pavement as he turned to leave. You stared after him, your chest tight with a mix of fury, confusion, and something you didn’t want to name.

This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was war. And you weren’t about to lose.

The turning point came late one night, the kind of night where the city felt alive and malevolent, every shadow a threat.

You’d been following a lead, tailing a low-level thug rumored to have ties to Wilson Fisk. The alley stank of rot and desperation, but you stayed hidden, your camera ready to catch anything that might blow the Daredevil story wide open. And then all hell broke loose.

The thug had barely turned the corner when he was intercepted, the dark shape of Daredevil descending like a predator. The fight erupted fast and brutal—fists cracking against bone, bodies slamming into dumpsters. You stayed frozen, heart pounding, snapping photos as quietly as you could.

But chaos doesn’t care about quiet.

A thrown blade missed its mark, spinning wildly before burying itself in your shoulder. Pain exploded through you, a raw and burning shock that stole the breath from your lungs. You stumbled forward, your cry piercing the fray.

The fight stopped.

In an instant, Daredevil was on you, his presence like a force of nature—overwhelming and commanding. He caught you before you collapsed, his hands firm and steady despite the violence still radiating off him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice a rough growl that sent a chill through you.

Your vision blurred as you tried to focus on his face—or at least the mask that hid it. “Doing my job,” you bit out, clutching at the hilt of the blade. Pain ripped through you, and your knees buckled.

“Your job?” His voice was laced with anger, though it wasn’t clear if it was aimed at you or himself. “Your job is going to get you killed.”

“Yeah, well,” you gasped, teeth clenched against the agony, “newsflash—dying’s not in the budget this month.”

His jaw tightened beneath the mask. For a moment, he just looked at you, his head tilting slightly like he was listening to something you couldn’t hear. Then he cursed under his breath. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” you said, but your legs betrayed you as soon as you tried.

Without another word, he lifted you into his arms like you weighed nothing. You swore, weakly pounding your fist against his chest. “I’m fine! I can—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re bleeding all over the place. Stop being stubborn.”

The world spun as he carried you, moving through the labyrinth of Hell’s Kitchen with a confidence that felt inhuman. The smell of incense hit you before you realized where he’d taken you: an abandoned church, its walls cracked with age and its air heavy with dust and decay.

He laid you down gently on a makeshift cot, his movements careful but unceremonious. Without a word, he pulled out a first aid kit and went to work, cutting away the fabric around your wound with swift precision.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his gloves peeling off and the sharp hiss you let out when the antiseptic hit your skin.

“You’re not going to scare me off,” you said finally, your voice shaky but defiant.

He paused, his hands hovering over your bandage, before letting out a low, humorless chuckle. “I’d be disappointed if you were that easy to scare.”

He finished wrapping your shoulder, his touch firm but not unkind. Then he leaned back, his masked face unreadable as he looked at you. “You shouldn’t have been there.”

“And you shouldn’t be running around in red tights picking fights with mob bosses,” you shot back, exhaustion dulling the sharp edge of your tone. “But here we are.”

For the first time, his head tilted toward you in something almost like amusement. “Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it, does it?”

“Guess not,” you muttered, leaning back against the cot. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you refused to look away from him. “So, what now? You keep playing knight in shining armor, or are you finally going to tell me what the hell’s really going on in this city?”

He stood, his broad shoulders casting long shadows in the flickering light of the church. “You want answers?” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “Then stop putting yourself in the crossfire.”

He moved toward the door, pausing only to glance back at you. “Next time, I might not be there to save you.”

You lay there for a moment, watching Daredevil move toward the door, his silhouette framed by the soft, dying light of the church. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to let it go, to take the bandage and your bruised pride and call it a night. But you weren’t wired that way, and if you were going to end up in his world tonight, you sure as hell weren’t leaving without answers.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you called after him, your voice sharper than you intended.

He stopped mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if weighing whether to engage. After a moment, he turned back toward you, his arms crossing over his chest. “Doing what?”

“Showing up out of nowhere, pulling people out of danger, and then disappearing without giving me anything to work with,” you snapped. You propped yourself up on your good arm, glaring at him. “I’m not just some idiot with a camera, you know. I’ve been digging into this for months—years, even. I know there’s more to all of this than just a masked guy punching bad guys in alleys.”

His lips pressed into a thin line beneath the mask, and when he finally spoke, his voice was maddeningly calm. “What exactly do you want to know?”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “For starters? Why Fisk’s men are running scared of you. What you’re trying to accomplish out there. Hell, who you even are!”

He stepped closer, his boots clicking softly against the stone floor. “Who I am doesn’t matter,” he said evenly. “What matters is that people like Fisk don’t get to run this city unchecked.”

“That’s not an answer,” you shot back, frustration bubbling under your skin. “That’s a slogan. Try again.”

He tilted his head, his lips quirking in the faintest hint of a smirk. “What I do isn’t exactly something you put on a résumé, you know. It’s not about me—it’s about stopping people who think they’re untouchable.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the cot. “God, you’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told that,” he said dryly, leaning down slightly.

You looked up, opening your mouth to fire off another retort, but the words caught in your throat when you realized just how close he was. He’d stepped into your space, his presence overwhelming, and you could feel the heat radiating from him even through his suit. His gloved hand rested on the edge of the cot, his other hovering near your bandaged shoulder as if he were still checking on you.

Your breath hitched, the charged air between you crackling with something that wasn’t just frustration anymore. His head tilted slightly, his red-tinted lenses trained on you—or at least giving the impression that they were.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice softer now, barely above a whisper.

“Making sure you’re not going to pass out,” he replied, his voice lower, rougher.

“I’m fine,” you said, though the waver in your tone betrayed you.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he murmured, his lips quirking again.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re not helping, you know.”

“Not trying to,” he admitted, his voice dropping even lower, almost teasing.

The tension between you was unbearable now, thick and suffocating. Every part of you was hyper-aware of how close he was, the way his broad shoulders seemed to block out everything else in the room, the subtle flex of his jaw beneath the mask.

“This whole vague, mysterious act of yours?” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else. “It’s not going to work on me.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone unreadable.

You held his gaze—or at least where you thought his gaze would be. “Yeah. I’m not scared of you.”

He leaned in slightly, close enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek. “You should be.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering against your ribs. You didn’t move, didn’t look away, even though every nerve in your body screamed at you to.

The church was eerily quiet, the faint scent of old incense lingering in the air as Daredevil knelt beside you. The makeshift cot beneath you creaked softly as you shifted, wincing at the sharp, hot pain radiating from your shoulder.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice low but firm. His gloved hands worked quickly to gather what he needed—a bottle of antiseptic, gauze, scissors. The sound of his movements echoed faintly in the vast, empty space.

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, biting back a hiss as the adrenaline began to wear off. “You’re not the one with a knife sticking out of your shoulder.”

He glanced at you—or at least turned his head slightly in your direction, the red lenses of his mask catching the faint glow of candlelight. “It’s out now,” he said flatly, his tone a little softer. “But it’s going to hurt worse before it gets better.”

You rolled your eyes, your lips quirking despite yourself. “Great bedside manner, really. You ever consider a career change?”

“Funny,” he replied dryly, reaching for the bottle of antiseptic. “Hold still. This is going to sting.”

You braced yourself, clenching your fists against the scratchy fabric of the cot as he poured the liquid onto a clean piece of gauze. When he pressed it to the wound, you couldn’t stop the sharp gasp that escaped your lips.

His hand immediately came to rest on your good shoulder, grounding you. “Breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentler now. “I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his touch, even through the glove, sent a shiver down your spine. You focused on his voice, letting it pull you back from the edge of the pain.

“You’ve done this before,” you said after a moment, your voice shaky but laced with curiosity.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rough. “More times than I’d like.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered, your eyes darting to his face. Even under the mask, his presence was overwhelming—calm, steady, but with an undercurrent of something darker, something electric.

“Lucky,” he repeated, almost like he was testing the word. He tilted his head slightly as he worked, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at his lips. “Most people wouldn’t call it that.”

“Well,” you said, biting back a grimace as he applied pressure to the wound, “I’m not most people.”

His hands stilled for just a moment, his head tilting again as if he were studying you—or listening to something only he could hear. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been. You swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was, how the heat of his body seemed to seep into yours. His fingers brushed your skin as he reached for the bandage, and it was impossible to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

“Is this part of the whole ‘devil-may-care’ act?” you asked, your voice a little too breathless.

He smirked, the curve of his lips just visible beneath the mask. “You tell me. Does it feel like an act?”

The question sent a rush of heat through you, and you hated how much he could rattle you with so little. “I think you enjoy this,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “The mystery, the danger. Keeping people guessing.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. His fingers lingered on your shoulder as he smoothed the bandage into place, and the light touch made your stomach twist. “But you’re not like the others. You don’t scare easy. You said it yourself.”

You scoffed, though the sound was shaky. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” he said, leaning back slightly to look at you.

Your eyes locked with his—or where you thought his eyes would be—and the air between you grew thick, charged with something you couldn’t name. His hand was still on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that felt far too intimate for the circumstances.

“You don’t make this easy,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not trying to,” he replied, and for the first time, there was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable beneath the cold, calculated edge.

The silence stretched, the weight of it pressing down on you both. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t bring yourself to break the moment.

His fingers lingered for just a second longer before he pulled away, standing with the smooth, effortless grace that always seemed to remind you how different he was.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone shifting back to something cooler, more composed. “Just… stay out of trouble for a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Right. Because you’re so good at that yourself.”

He hesitated, his head tilting slightly as if he wanted to say something else. But instead, he turned, his cape shifting as he moved toward the shadows.

“Get some rest,” he said over his shoulder, his voice softer now. “You’ll need it.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the dim light, your heart pounding and your thoughts spinning in a way that had nothing to do with the wound in your shoulder.

After that night, something shifted. The line between Matt and Daredevil blurred in ways you didn’t expect, leaving you teetering on an edge you weren’t sure you wanted to cross. Matt had grown softer—not in the dismissive, charming way he used to handle you, but in a way that made him more frustrating. He deflected your questions as always, but there was something protective in his tone, something that suggested he was more invested than he’d ever admit.

And Daredevil? He was everywhere now. Sometimes just watching, sometimes stepping in when danger got too close, but always lingering just long enough to leave you questioning everything.

It was that same infuriating pattern that brought you to Matt’s apartment one stormy night, your resolve hardened by weeks of half-truths and unspoken tension. You weren’t leaving until you got the answers you’d fought so hard to piece together.

When Matt opened the door, his expression flickered with surprise before settling into something guarded. He stepped aside to let you in, his jaw tight as he shut the door behind you.

“You’re here late,” he said, his voice low.

“I figured it out,” you said, no preamble, no hesitation. The words spilled out like a challenge, filling the small space between you. “You’re Daredevil.”

The air seemed to still. Matt froze, his shoulders stiffening, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t deny it immediately, and that told you everything you needed to know.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally, his voice a fraction too calm.

You stepped closer, your heart pounding, a heady mix of pride and adrenaline thrumming in your veins. “Don’t I?” you shot back, your voice sharp but steady. “You’ve been stonewalling me since day one. You always know where I am, what I’m doing. And Daredevil? He’s too… you. The way he moves, the way he talks. You’re the most religious man I know and Daredevil took me to a church for gods sake. It all fits.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he turned his head slightly, as if trying to decide whether to keep arguing. “Stop,” he said quietly, his tone firm but strained. “If you’re right—and I’m not saying you are—then you’re in more danger than you realize.”

You let out a sharp laugh, the sound almost bitter. “Danger? You think that scares me? I don’t care about the danger, Matt. I care about the truth. I care about you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. For a moment, something flickered across his face—guilt, fear, frustration. He exhaled slowly, stepping closer, the space between you evaporating.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“Maybe not,” you whispered, lifting your chin defiantly. “But I’m asking anyway. Because if this is you, Matt… I can’t finish the story..”

His hand came up almost hesitantly, brushing against your cheek. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. His thumb lingered near your jaw, his head dipping slightly as if he couldn’t decide whether to move closer or pull away.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” you said, your voice trembling but steady enough to meet his intensity.

And then the tension snapped.

The kiss was inevitable, a collision of frustration, need, and something deeper that neither of you could put into words. His lips crashed against yours with a desperation that made your head spin, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you closer. You gripped his shirt, pulling him down to you as if the heat of his body could ground you in the chaos.

It was messy, frantic—his lips trailing fire down your jaw, your hands fisting in his shirt as the world narrowed to just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His hand lingered on your cheek, but his expression was torn, the war inside him written all over his face.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said, his voice rough, almost pained.

You swallowed hard, your heart still pounding in your chest. “No,” you agreed, your voice quiet but steady. “But it’s a start.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek one last time before he stepped back, the distance between you suddenly unbearable. And as you stood there, your breath catching in your throat, you realized just how deep you were in.

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@cakesandtom

[ijbolz]

giver piwon... and what exactly they love to give

piwon hyung line x fem!reader 🌨️ some smut headcanons (mentions of piv, oral sex, fingering, etc) a bit self indulgent🫣

a/n: pls forgive me guys if my writing may seem a bit rough right now because im trying to ease back into it after being busy with finals a few weeks ago.! also this is my second time trying to make this post bc tumblr decided to be shitty and delete my draft🥲 oh well...

KEEHO ┊ what use would it be if he's spending hours sweating it off at the gym and he's not gonna use his arms to keep you in place. trembling underneath his hold with your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth. especially if you love a man that makes it clear that he's in charge, asserts control over you if his words aren't enough to do so, until he has no choice but to resort to manhandling you instead. unless that's what you're really aiming for, he's not that difficult to talk to.

have you seen kyo's hands? he'll play dumb and pretend he doesn't notice the way your eyes are almost always locked onto his veiny hands whenever you hang out or... accompany him while he works out. sometimes it becomes a surprise whenever a lil work out session doesn't end up with the both of you fucking.

oh… but when the two of you can't help the heated situation, then kyo's one to greatly enjoy catching you off guard. fucking you with his fingers too good until you fall apart—the weight of your frame leaning against his own as you get lost within the bliss from the repeated pump of his digits. and when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore than what he’s giving you, he’s quick to restlessly plow his fingers slick with your wetness while he watches you writhe from his unforgiving thrusts.

his other hand unabashedly snakes from the messy sheets and against the swell of your breasts before stuffing two digits inside your mouth, earning a high sob from your throat. fuck… if only you knew just how much effect you had on him, especially with the spit dribbling by the corner of your lips until kyo can’t help but urge himself impossibly closer to your figure.

“suck,” the warmth of his breath sends a shiver down your spine, doing so while his tongue traces the shell of your ear, the wet muscle a contrast to the trail of saliva hitting the cold air. kyo would teasingly try to mimic the way you’re swirling your tongue around his fingers, pressing his lips flush against your neck before sucking just the way you like it.

THEO ┊ if you want to have giver!theo then… work for it.

would all start from the moment he accidentally stumbles upon your little toy stash the time he’d be looking for something else in your shared apartment. i just know the gears in his head would be turning once he’d laid his eyes on your filthy little secret, silently pacing back into the living room where you’re situated on the couch, unknowing of what’s to come before you.

“so did you find what you were… looking for…” your words trail off the second your eyes met the object taeyang’s clutching between his fingers, an object far too familiar for you and yet you wanted to keep it a secret from him for now, heart hammering in your chest.

…because you know just how much your boyfriend can be a menace, especially when he gets you reduced to an adorable mess from his control. your muddied thoughts aren’t helping the situation.

and that’s how he’s gotten everything into a quick blur, your head thrown back on the surface of the couch, pillows forgotten on the floor and everything, while the weight of his hand keeps your trembling legs spread. your vision’s turning hazy from the shuddering pleasure of your vibrator taeyang repeatedly buries into your wet cunt.

“should’ve hid them better then,”

he mumbles, staring back into your beady little eyes like he knows the exact words swimming inside your mind. and what if you wanted him to discover them anyway?

“keeping a stash of toys and using them by yourself seems like no fun, you know you could always ask for my help, right?” he’s mean, asking in a tantalizing tone while your mouth’s stuffed with your panties the whole time.

and when he does really focus on your pleasure, it’ll take a while before he decides to give it his all, settling on using your toys with the promise of only sinking his cock into your hole once he’s satisfied with the amount of orgasms he’s able to get out of you first.

JIUNG ┊ if he's got something to want to endlessly give you, then it would be pleasure. which comes in different forms of course, but in this case, you won’t even have to beg him for it, he’d probably be the one to plead you to use his cock all you want to get yourself off.

he knows how much it drives you insane, so naturally he knows how to work it.

always talks about how he needs to have you in positions where he can plow you into the mattress better, so i don’t think it would be that much of a shocker if one of his favorite positions during sex would be to fold you into a mating press.

especially once he’s gotten his plan to put a ring on your finger out of the way, jiung’s quick to spoil you like never before. not like he's not already treating you delicately to the point he doesn't even want your foot to touch the bare ground… if that’s even possible.

anyway, he’s always one to dream about a future with you, wanting to settle down and move into your own home where he could spend more happy memories with you and of course, fuck you good undisturbed. enough of quickies at the dorm or whatever, where there’s a high risk of getting caught by other people.

he’s one to value his privacy especially when he’s the type to take his time especially during the act.

only and if only he could put into words just how much he loves staring down at you when you're blissed out of your mind. he jogs back to his memories of your disheveled frame tearfully moaning out underneath him while he struggles to keep steady thrusts with the plush walls of your cunt engulfing his length, pulsing around him harshly whenever he hits that one spot.

"just like that..." he'd hear you whimper out with trembling lips, sneaking in a few gropes on your ass with a gentle kiss on your forehead. fuck, he’d wanna keep at it forever. especially when he gets to witness your gasp for air every time he sinks his cock back into your needy hole. and with the sight of his warm cum seeping down the sheets once he pulls out from the sticky mess you’d made, he’s long gone from being sane.

INTAK ┊ in usual settings, intak loves to make you feel like such a princess to the point all of your friends can’t help but gush about how lucky you are. intak's never ashamed to admit you got him wrapped around your finger, pressing soft kisses on the crook of your neck while he tells you how he’s literally brought to this world just to serve you.

"and i want to make it known to you just how much i want to pleasure you all i can," he says to you with that familiar croak in his voice, and it may sound cheesy in other scenarios. yet it sends a different surge through your core when your boyfriend's got you meekly spread out for him, sopping cunt drooling perfectly while his warm breath hovers on your trembling skin.

his doe eyes are a sight for comfort, not like it ever leaves you, never ashamed to run his gaze from your flushed face over your bare figure. clothes long gone to reveal your chest heaving up and down, until his gaze locks back onto your pulsing cunt, clit swollen and needy just for him.

if only you could read his mind, know just how starved he feels for your essence drooling from your hole, glistening just to heighten the building desire from his throbbing cock even though he's eaten you out far too much that he can count.

intak's a very passionate lover. he'd let you know so obviously from the way he laps up like you as if it's the first time he's going down on his girl, like you'd purposely let him hung dry for days. when in fact he'd beg to eat you out almost everyday if you could, finding it difficult to deny especially when he'd stare at you with his dopey little grin you came to adore.

[venusphoriia]

— Maybe In Another Life

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Clarisse La Rue x Reader

─ she honestly would’ve loved you.

cw ཿ⠀ not proof-read, major character death, description of coping with losing a loved one, angst no comfort, (written with a female reader in mind, but honest no pronouns are used (I think??))

ପ a/n ; literally a quick dump (it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a month) because I’ve been super busy. I’m still working on Lovesick Denial Part 2 and another request, so one of those may be released next. Thank you so much for the support and I hope you enjoy! (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃♡︎

Clarisse stares blankly at the gravestone. The flower gently twirls in her hands mindlessly. The sun felt warm against her skin, the wind—a perfect breeze. The weather was calm, mellow like the calm after a storm.

The sky was bright, much too bright for Clarisse’s liking. Especially now, but she knew this weather is something you enjoy. Everything looked so alive, free—perhaps even a bit happy. She felt so out of place. Nothing felt right, like something was missing. She knew, but she wanted to deny it a bit longer.

She sinks deeper into her thoughts—memories that she treasures. For a moment, she allows them to completely consume her senses, reliving them as if they were the present. She can hear your heartfelt laughter from afar, drawing closer as you approach her.

You quickly quiet your movements, sneaking up on Clarisse from behind. She closes her eyes, pretending not to hear you (like she always does). She feels you creep closer, you hand slowly reaching out towards hers. A soft chill runs up her spine as your fingertips brush against her skin.

She waits quietly for the sound of your voice, but it never comes. Clarisse brow furrows softly, she closes her eyes tighter in concentration. Your hands slip into hers, but they aren’t as soft as they used to be. Still, she imagines your smile as you slowly trail your hand up her arm, carefully tracing her scars as you alway did, until your hand rests along her neck.

Again, she listens carefully for your soft laughter, but again, she’s left waiting. She feels your hand cup her face and again the touch feels odd. It’s warm, but so foreign. Even the way you held her felt so…different. She tries to correct the mistakes in her mind, wanting to indulge deeper into her fantasy.

Again, she waits. Yearning to hear your voice, she waits as her eyes desperately remain closed.

“Clarisse?” Again, she is left disappointed. She breaks away from her daydream, her eyes slowly opening. Tears slip past her eyes as she meets a look full of pity and concern, “…You alright?”

The question is hesitant as if scared to provoke Clarisse’s anger. Clarisse looks away, down at his hand that carefully holds hers. The flower in her hand was tight in her grip as if she was afraid to let go.

“I’m fine,” her tone is rough as she wipes away her tears, pulling away from Chris’ touch.

Chris Rodriguez, son of Hermes. Someone she had grown close to since—no, she doesn’t want to think about it. She places the flower among the many others on the gravestone. A beautiful Daffodil among the many others. Clarisse smiles softly to herself as she sees the gifts others have left behind in your memory. She knew you would appreciate them all.

Your greatest fear was being forgotten—or worse being remembered as someone who never did much with their life. It brings Clarisse a little comforting knowing that your anxieties would’ve been put to rest if you had realized how much you are truly loved.

Clarisse wipes away her tears again, clearing her throat before standing back up. She walks past Chris, not being able to find the strength within herself to even spare him a glance. He doesn’t comment on it, following behind her, but also being mindful to keep his distance.

She looks down at her hand, the ring feels rather tight around her finger. A wave of anger, hurt, and disappointment hit her as she swallows the bitterness in her throat. She looks away. She pretends it’s your ring, your engagement—that she’s your fiance.

She truly would’ve married you. If only you’d been able to stick around, maybe you would have said yes.

© venusphoriia 2024 — do not copy or repost any of my works on any other platform, please and thank you !! ( ˘ ³˘)♡

[wings-of-ink]

Mini progress report, some ramblings and Patreon planning

Hello all! I just wanted to drop a note and check in. I haven't been around as much lately as I've had some busy things in my personal life going on (all good things, btw), and they've made me a bit sleepy. I have some asks baking in my inbox, but I will attend to them when I've got the energy saved up.

For now, I am still working on chapter 5 and she is a biggie. I do not know when the update will go through. I had hoped for October, but realistically it will probably be November. I'm giving myself some wiggle room since the season for me is shifting, and I often experience fatigue and some strong-sads when autumn/winter set in. I won't know for sure until it hits if I will be a sleepy mess or not, lol. Sometimes it doesn't hit until December.

Assuming I remain in good humor, I will be doing a lot of writing and testing in the coming days. Around this time last year is when I was finally writing the first chapter of GC. It really helped me get through the winter months, so I hope that this year will be much the same.

In fact, I found when I made the document for the outline and rough draft for the start of our story:

Between here and the very beginning of February 2024, I wrote the prologue and chapters 1 and 2 and then published them. This coming February, we should celebrate our 1 year anniversary, right?

Chapter 5 is coming along well. I've had a couple scenes that I want to go back over and refine since I either forgot something or they just didn't turn out the way I wanted. I have also written out an event that happens in chapter 7 which I am very (unreasonably) excited about. I could not help myself, it was burning a hole in my brain. It will, of course, develop a lot more after I have 5 & 6 actually done, but I can't wait until you get there.

Here is where Chapter 5 stands now:

This looks massive, but keep in mind there are two paths at the beginning of this chapter and each have unique events/consequences. Some of the text is shared here and there between them, and then they meet. This also includes code and such. I am at the mid-point of the chapter currently where there is a bit of downtime and the MC can get up to...a few things.

Such as this tease for a Duri-moment:

Just what are you two up to???

As for Patreon, if anyone is curious, I am still planning. The feedback I got from the poll along with messages and such have helped a lot. I am not sure when I will have things running since I am prioritizing the actual chapter writing while I've been busy with other things. Since my weekly schedule is going to be back to normal now, I can think about it more.

I have determined to take Patreon nice and slow. It will focus on just a few tiers to start (centered on only God-Cursed for the time being). From there, we'll grow things at a sustainable pace. Most were interested in extras (POVs & drabbles), so I will focus on those, early access, and spiciness. I had debated about starting this next year as opposed to, say, November or December. I may just shoot for whenever I have chapter 5 done. I feel like that's a good round place we can branch off from, and it will open up more flexibility in any bonus content I write.

I think that's all of what's been on my mind lately, and I've prattled too long as it is. I hope you are all safe and well!

Take care! ^_^

~ Lunan 🐦‍⬛

[barracuda-shark-games]

Jocosa | she/her | 33 years old | bisexual

Notable traits: Intimidating, clever, diplomatic, merciful, reasonable, compassionate

Description

Despite her relatively young age compared to other advisors, Jocosa has served as Chief Royal Advisor to the Sunrise Throne since Wilmot ascended to power 13 years ago, when Jocosa was only 20. Her curly blonde hair frames piercing blue eyes, and she keeps it tied into two braids that cascade over her shoulders and reach just past her waist. Her curvy figure is usually adorned by a form-fitting crimson gown with silver and gold embroidery, and accessorized with matching gold and silver jewelry in the form of heavy bangles, thick chokers, and big earrings. She colors her full lips and round cheeks with rouge makeup that embellishes her rosy complexion. At a relatively average height of 5’7 (170cm) and with a deceptively youthful face, Jocosa still makes an imposing figure due to her competency, wisdom, and willpower. She carries herself with poised grace and determination. Some accuse her of having a bleeding heart; whether or not that’s the case, it’s still a heart she keeps closely guarded.

Trivia

On romance: While Jocosa will be available for romance regardless of the MC’s gender, she has never had a relationship nor feelings for another woman before and will, as a result, be a bit shyer with a female MC than with a male MC. That being said, she will fall equally in love with an MC of either gender when romanced.

Favorite food: Grilled salmon; she is a pescetarian

Song: 'Hold Me' by be steadwell

I am breathless weightless in her arms nothing felt so much like home yet I'm restless the parts that I can't trust, the reckless urge to stay alone. she said "Hold me. Hold me, when you start to lose control. When you feel like letting go, baby don't." No one ever could control me, least of all myself, tangled up in consequence. I remember when she told me she would be the one, spoken with all confidence. She said "Hold me, that's all I need you to do. Break the skin if you have to, I can take the pain for you."

Excerpt

Under the cut for chapter 1 spoilers! Keep in mind that this is a rough draft and, therefore, may be subject to change before chapter 1 releases.

Your automaton escort leads you to a set of heavy oak double doors before it turns around and appears to power down.

Okay… You suppose you are meant to take it from here, so you knock on one of the doors.

When you receive no answer, you try again. Once again, nothing.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to opening the door yourself – you were summoned here, after all. The door is as heavy as it appears, and it takes some effort for you to push it open.

You find yourself in a room significantly taller than it is wide, with a winding staircase along the wall that appears to lead to nowhere and functions simply to allow one to scale the bookshelves that line the rounded walls. It occurs to you that this room must be one of the spires you observed from outside of the palace. This room is as maximalist as it can get, with all sorts of trinkets, tools, and appliances you struggle to place the purpose of. The only decluttered space is the polished mahogany desk near the front, which has atop it a quill and inkpot, a clipboard with blank parchment, and a placard that reads “Chief Advisor Jocosa.”

Behind the desk is a high-backed chair in matching mahogany, with red velvet upholstery and a sun carved into the top of its back. A woman sits in the chair with an unreadable expression in her piercing blue eyes that seem to look right through you. Her hands are neatly folded on the desk before her, and even from where you stand you can make out their smoothness. Long, blonde braids frame each side of her soft face, cascading down over her shoulders and chest before disappearing from sight below the desk. Clad in an expensive-appearing crimson gown, the woman’s curvy frame almost appears to disappear into the red chair behind it.

You realize you’re staring, and so is she. You shift uncomfortably beneath her gaze and prepare to clear your throat when she suddenly speaks.

“Please, have a seat,” she says, gesturing to one of two low armchairs positioned in front of her desk. Her voice is smooth and melodic, as if she just wakes up and it’s ready to go.

You oblige and decide to make yourself comfortable, which comes easy given the high quality of the armchair within which you now sit. “You asked to see me?” you say.

“I did,” the woman says with a gracious nod. “We haven’t been properly introduced yet. My name is Jocosa, Chief Royal Advisor to the Sunrise Throne.”

You introduce yourself before turning down her offer for tea. “Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug and proceeds to pour herself a cup. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? As chief advisor to the throne, you and I will be seeing a lot of each other.” She brings her cup to her bright red lips and blows to cool off her tea. “I thought it only fair for you to know that I did not approve of this marriage arrangement.”

Wait, what? You’re not sure what you expected of this summons, but it certainly wasn’t this.

[theoncelerishot]

Bambi- Hisoka X Reader

Summary: Hisoka and his twisted love for innocent little ladies.

————————————————————————

notes: hi squad. Been like two years since i last posted but I had this in my drafts for those years XD and I posted it recently but then privated it. Idk if my hisoka girls are out there, but this was made specifically for you. I used inspo for this but it’s been so long I dont remember what :/————————————————————————

It's pretty obvious to me that Hisoka likes those sinless girls, the ones who haven't done much wrong in their life. The girls who have that certain type of angelic beauty; big doe eyes and porcelain skin which always makes them stand out from the crowd. She who stares at him like he put the stars in the sky, looking at him like he's the head lights. Surprised that a man like him could like someone like her. A girl who couldn't speak to strangers without being asked to speak up. A blushing, stuttering mess.

You have heard all about his reputation. *He's a liar, a manipulator, a murderer." They say. But your naive mind was convinced that you're special - that he wouldn't dare lay a finger on you. Even your parents warned you not to associate with him because he's bad news. But with all the validation you get around him, you don't understand why they think he's so bad. He somehow proves them wrong every time.

He acted out of character for you, anyone that knew him could vouch for that. He treated you as if you were a fragile doll, on the verge of cracking any second mentally. He had more patience for you, more kindness for you, and you never thought twice about it.

(But his feign kindness towards you won't silence his threats of telling your family and friends all about your dirty secrets. He just can't help but adore the way you shake and squirm away from his bluffs.

Of course, Hisoka hid his physical violence from you. Always keeping his blood lust under control, never letting it slip what he did for a living. Always disappearing for months on end without ever letting you know where he was off too. But you never pushed further to find out more. He would be damned if he scared you away so soon, especially since you were so righteous.

But for the time he wasn't across the globe, he was cooped up in his Yorknew City penthouse with you, showing you all the things your conservative family never taught you. He knows you would never rebel against your parents, but what they don't know doesn't hurt, right? Since he treats you oh-so well, it's the least he deserves.

So if he wanted anything, you would give it to him. Whatever that may be: play fighting, sex, flattery, more rough sex. So if that means getting all dolled up for him only to find that your dress has ripped and makeup is spilling down your face by the time the night is over (Your dress will, of course, be replaced the next day by the most prestigious brands of the highest quality). Then so be it. Any kind of attention is good attention to your unrecognizable heart.

As far as Hisoka is concerned, you're only a casual hook-up, nothing more than that. However whenever he's gone far and wide, on the hunt for a strong toy, he longs for your beautiful Bambi eyes more than he could ever admit.

[soft-persephone]

Something Real

MDNI // E // WC: 9.5k // smut, oral (w receiving), glove kink?, hand kink if you squint, John talks you through it // masterlist // rough drafts // AN: I had a time getting this one started, but as hard as it was, I also had fun and I may make it a series. Who knows?

Imani rushed down the block, flying past the few pedestrians that were up at this particular twilight of dawn. 

Raw adrenaline coursed through her veins as each leg collided with the concrete below her feet, jolting her with such force to her goal. 

She snuck a glance behind her to see him catching up with her. 

Fuck. 

He was catching up with her. She couldn’t let him get any closer. Barely a minute ago he was nowhere in sight and now he was gaining up on her.

Diggin deep within herself, Imani mustered up whatever strength she could find in her body, grunting with force, she somehow gained speed. 

You train for this, she told herself. This is what you do, its who you are, no random fucker on the street is going to take that away from you. You were going to live and you were going to win. 

Just a few more seconds and she’d be at her shop, and she could finally escape. She would win and be free.

“Aye!” from the corner of her eye, Imani saw a blur of black wool rush past her to who was behind her.

What the?

Another man was rushing towards her, but she didn’t stop. Sheh couldn’t, but he was just as fast, going step for step with her. 

He slowed down when she did, reaching out to grab her, by the shoulders. Instead of her usual sloppy slow down, she collided face first into his chest.

“It's okay now.” his velvet tone flooded her senses, “you don’t need to keep running. We got him.”

Oh God.

Imani frantically tapped at his chest with the palm of her hand when she saw his friend in the dark wool coat handcuff the man running after you.

“N-n ugh- no.” she gasped for air, half choking when she couldn’t breathe in enough, “no.”

“Alex!” Elle waved him down, quickly shifting her attention once he started to jog over, “NO!”

“What do you mean, no?” Alex huffed shortly, the condensation of his breath filling the space between them as he shoved the man to the side, so he wouldn’t be near her, but he could still hold onto him. “We arrived here, just to see this man chasing a woman who looked scared out of her mind. We can ask him questions once we get downtown.”

“A race!” Elle explained, as she turned her phone around, so he could see she was livestreaming on instagram, “she was scared of losing a footrace.”

“A footrace?” The man holding Imani scrunched his face as he held her back some to look at hers. She nodded, her chest still falling up and down.

“I wasn't doing nothing!” The man finally spoke up for himself. “It's just a thing  Citrusly does.” He huffed, shaking his head, “you beat the owner in a footrace, you get free drinks for a month. She’s only here Tuesday morning’s  5am to 6am for it.”

Imani felt like she could breathe a little better once Alex uncuffed the man.

Alex’s expression shifted to something more guarded, but not quite pleased or relieved, slightly sorry, but only slightly. He uncuffed the man and pushed him. 

“Get out of here.”

“Fucking cops.” the man muttered, brushing off his clothes.

“I’m sorry about that. Are you okay?” Imani put her hand on his shoulder, looking him over as she would have done if the situation was dangerous, which it was not, but she had a business to run, and right now there were lots of phones recording them.

“I’m fine now.” He beamed at you. His body language shifting. 

“That's good.” she squeezed his shoulder lightly, giving him a polite smile, praying it didn't give him any ideas, “because of accidental arrest or not, I still won, so you don't get the one month discount.’

“Mani!” Elle scolded her, but she ignored it. 

“Are you kidding! I totally would have had it, if that man didn't tackle me!”

“He tackled you three steps away from the shop door.” You pointed at Alex’s cop accomplice, “this man didn't grab me until I stopped running which was at the shop door.” she waved her hands up as she finished proving her point, “You lost.”

The onlookers cheered and laughed, some going back inside and others going on about their day as you attempted to console a sore loser.

“Tell you what,” Imani put her hands together in front of her, “As an apology, because of my friend’s actions, I’ll give you a drink and a pastry today for free, on me.”

The man, Donnie, she just learned his name was, nodded. He had a sweet smile that went well with his light brows eyes and freckled face, a few spots on his cheeks much whiter than the rest of him. You would have been all over him in high school, but right now, you weren’t  so sure if you were up for anything with anyone.

“I’d really like it if I could also get,--”

“No more no less.” Imani interrupted with a playful smirk and a laugh. “That’s my final offer.” she licked her lips, ignoring how his eyes followed the movement. “Take it or leave it.”

She bounced back and forth on her heels, laughing softly and averting her gaze at Elle who looked at her like a disappointed mother. She ignored the smirk on Alex’s face and the coy look on his friend’s

“Alright.” Donnie relented, even taking a step back. When did he even get so close? She wondered. How did she let that happen? “But I'm challenging you again next Tuesday!” he pointed at her, smiling.

“I’ll always be here.” Imani opened the door for him and waved him off with one more smile. 

“Damn,” a rich voice called behind her as the door was taken out of her grasp and swung open wider, “mm mm mm, that was cold blooded.”

Imani huffed through her nose, praying she didn’t jump from how he startled her. 

“Right,” Alex chuckled, pushing past her in the shop. 

“Tell me what you’ll say if the same person asks you out on the same day every week, but you keep giving the same answer each time, and they can’t take the hint.

Imani shook her head and made her way behind the counter to make everyone's usual.

“Every Tuesday?” 

“And Mani’s too stubborn to actually say yes.” Elle Huffed, “He’s nic–”

Imani took the opportunity to raise the pressure of the steam wand to cut her off, blowing  a cloud of steam in front of her. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

“I’m not falling fo–”

Imani did it again. 

“Will you–”

She did it again. 

“Sorry, I was actually making a drink  that time.” 

Imani placed it  in front of her. “This one’s yours.”

“Giving her a look, Elle took her drink and left to go to the usual table. Before you could ask Alex’s friend what he wanted, he was already following her.

“Does he—“

“He will eat and drink anything you put in front of him," Alex deadpanned with a hint of a grin. “He greedy as hell.”

Imani will always love her best friend Elle, but she was doing the absolute most, and so was Alex.

She  and her friend have been close since college. Truly the sister she’s  always wanted, so when she finally got the guy she’s been obsessed with since high school, it sucked that they didn’t get to spend as much time together as they used to, but Imani was a big girl, and she knows she can handle not being first in line anymore. 

She’ll settle for two.

But right now, number two was confused on why it was so important for them to meet the best friend, that was more of a brother, to the man her best friend was dating. 

“Just to be clear, I’m not the one in a relationship with Alex, right?”

“Mani!” Elle warned through gritted teeth. 

Imani raised her hands, backing off. 

“You are my family and you’re important to me,” Elle put a hand on Imani’s shoulder, “just like John is to Alex.”

Imani wanted to fold in on herself. 

She looked up at the ceiling to avoid Elle’s gaze.

“And as your family, I’d like to know where you have been in the last week. You weren’t answering  your phone and no one had seen you anywhere. Is it because of what comes up in two days?”

“No, I’m fine.” Imani shook her head,” I just needed some time alone with my thoughts. Is it healthy, probably not, but I know what I want, and I just needed to take that time.”

“So you're okay?” Elle asked softly. 

“I was in my apartment. I just chose not to pick up any calls.”

She playfully rolled her eyes and averted her gaze from everyone for a moment. They were all looking at her now, and she didn’t even know what else to say. 

Fuck, Elle for doing this to her. 

“Okay.” Imani hoped it didn’t come off as short as it sounded to her. All she could feel was her face burning and her ears muffling everything from how hot her head was getting. She shrugged off her jacket for good measure and took a large sip of her drink. 

“John,” he held out his hand, breaking the ice first, “Sampson.” He said as you shook it. 

“Imani.” She half smirked and  waved a hand in an obvious gesture, since Elle has done nothing but call it out every five seconds. 

“You have a last name, Imani.”

“Nope.”  She said, popping the p.

“It’s Lounds.”

“Like The Lounds Enterprise Lounds?” He raised an eyebrow. 

Imani smacked her teeth and leaned back, crossing her arms. 

“Now why’d you have to go and tell him.”

“So you’re his semi-estranged daughter he doesn’t like talking about.” 

“We’re not estranged.” She huffed, “I just make my own money.”

“And how’s that working out?” he chided. 

“John, don't start with her. Once she gets started, she won’t stop.” Elle smiled as she gave her input, failing to hide her smile as she did. Not quite a master at 

“Good.” Imani beamed, grabbing a cinnamon roll and picking it apart as she ate it.

“Aye,” Alex frowned, “you're wasting a perfectly good common roll.”

“It's a habit,” Imani said with her mouth half full, “it’s a test for texture. Jimmy taught me. I've been doing it all week and now, whenever I eat a pastry, I pull it apart .

Imani talked on, going into detail about texture and doughs and mouth feel as she watched John grab a muffin. 

Interesting. 

She laid out an assortment, just like she did when she met Alex here the first time. Who had a knack for picking out which one was the sweetest just by looking at it. 

Muffins could be sweet but they weren’t sweet like other things. 

“Slow down Sugar,” John brushed his hands of crumbs, “it ain’t going nowhere.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“It’s a nickname.” Elle mused.

“Sweet tooth.” Was all Alex said, focused on getting the rest of the cinnamon roll in his mouth. 

Well that explains it. 

“Why are you dressed like a  Gangbanger from LA?” 

Imani looked down at her clothes, picking at the fabric of her Dickies jacket and pulling the oversized sleeves over her hands. 

“They were Deonte’s.” She licked her lips before smiling slowly. “He was from LA and he did live that type of life at some point, but I- I think something happened and he used the last of his money to fly out here,” her chest used to feel tight when she talked about him. It used to make her shake and take her breath away, but now. . . Not so much, “so he was uh- I think that’s why he was homeless when I met him.” She nodded, feeling like that was enough for now. 

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to—“

“No, it’s okay,” Imani smiled softly, “I like talking about him.” She said in a half whisper, thinking of her long lost friend. 

No one said anything so she felt the need to interject, or rather Alex and Elle had heard all this stuff before, but the opportunity to show someone else Deonte as she  knew him, to share who he really was with anyone who listened, she’ll never pass that up. 

“He left that behind once he got here, I helped him get on his feet. . . let him stay with me. . .save up for a new place, but there wasn’t any need for that. We got so close and the housing market was shit, so I. . .  somehow, convinced him to stay with me.” She gently cleared her throat, “for good I think.”

“That’s when he started the nonprofit with you?” John graveled, his  interjection startled her. She blinked at him for a moment, remembering she had an audience. 

“Y-yeah.” She smiled. “How’d you know that?” She leaned forward, but kept her hands in the sleeves of the too big jacket, “people don’t usually know that.”

“I make it a habit to keep up with things that benefit my community.” he took a non communal sip of his drink before tilting his head and squinting at ut with a low short hum, “ You two did good work.” he shifted his attention back to her, “  You,  do good work.” 

Imani’s shoulders fell with a tension she didn't know was there. His dark eyes reflected a glimmer of. . Joy? A sort of complement of  reverence she didn’t quite understand. 

She searched his eyes, the feeling overwhelmed her, but she let it. She couldn’t stop the way she held his gaze and searched for more, eagerly taking as much as she could get in that moment, but then she realized what it was. 

He was proud of her, of Deonte and the work they did together, and the work she kept doing after his death. 

A feeling her father long since neglected to give her. A feeling she forgot she used to devote herself to once she removed herself from her father’s influence. 

“You don’t like saying thank you either, Imani?”

She inhaled sharply, leaning back in her seat. 

“I- I uh.” 

“Most people say thank you when they get a compliment.” He said casually, but there was something in the inflictions of his voice. How the colors of his tone would sway and flow across a spectrum like a musical scale. Going from something light and casually rich and pleasant to something low and imposing. 

A skill she’s sure he’s picked up to properly reprimand and deal with the criminals he may catch, but she was no criminal and there was no danger. 

So why use it so flippantly?

Her mind felt foggy, but she knew not to ask.

“Say thank you.” He took a sip of his coffee. Imani watched him intently, confused in her sudden stupor, her eyes following the micro movements of his face, his hand, soaking in the way the leather of his gloves creaked and strained with the movement. How his tongue darted to reach  the foam of  the latte that settled on the hairs of his upper lip, catching in his beard. 

“Thank. . You.” She averted her gaze, ignoring how tightly her legs were pressed together. 

“Leave that girl alone.” Alex drawled, breaking the spell, “she’s trying to have a heartwarming vulnerable moment and you keep messing with her.”

John rolled his eyes. 

“And you need to take some notes, so you can learn to do the same instead of bottling everything up until you explode, motherfucker.” 

Imani winced and let out an “ooh.”

“You gon’ let them gang up on me like that?” He glanced at Elle in mock offense.

“He’s right though.” She took a conspicuous sip of her drink. 

“Don’t do him like that,” Imani fiddled with the hem or her sleeve, feeling normal and letting her hands out of the jacket, “everyone grieves differently.”

“Exactly,” Alex held out his hand in a fist, not putting it down until she bumped it, “unh, that’s what I’m talking about. We gotta stick together.” 

 “Stick together as what?” John smacked his teeth. 

“Dead partner club.” Alex said matter of factly. 

Imani nodded in agreement. 

“I grieve different.” She said in a partially nasally tone and pitched her voice lower. “Huh.” 

“What?” Elle looked at Imani as if she was being an embarrassment, again.

“None of y’all listen to Kendrick?” Imani shrugged back.

“Is that hat an artist of some kind? Is he one of the rappers you like to listen to?”

“Elle, do not play with me,” Imani bristled. Because they’ve been friends for how long? And she still wants to act  brand new whenever she brings up the goat.

“See, this is why Jannie thinks you’re old and I’m not.”

Alex bit back a laugh, but John let it fly, not having to worry.

Elle shook her head, not taking the bait because you were in mixed company, but if it was only the two of you, she would have definitely taken it there. 

“Anyways,” she said pointedly, “I need a favor.”

Imani laughed through her nose. 

“Shoot.”was all she said, Elle already knew she’d do anything for her. 

“I need you to accept your invitation to Jonesy’s  dinner party with me and—“

“Ugh,” Amani loudly scoffed and downed the rest of her drink and grabbed her water, not looking up at Elle, “anything but that, Please.”

“It’s just for one night.” She urged, there will be lots of amazing people and you’ll even find more donors for your organization. It’ll be amazing for networking.”

“Okay,” Imani frowned, “fine fine fine.” She kept saying until Elle stopped talking. “I don’t care. I’ll just go.”

This was more than a hopeful answer for her. Ellle softly squealed. 

“You’ll like this one. I promise.”

“Please don’t,” Imani scoffed into her drink, “I don’t want you to be known as a liar off something like that.”

“I think that’s our cue to go to work.”

As Alex bundled back up and kissed Elle goodbye. 

Imani watched as John stood and fastened his coat. 

“Are you okay?” Elle brought her out of her daze. They were long gone and out the door but she was still looking out, “You seem out of it today?”

“Y-yeah,” Imani muttered into her glass of water, “just thinking about Deonte.” 

________

Fuck. Imani cursed to herself. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

She paced back and forth on the sidewalk. 

She hoped  her eyes weren’t too red. It was a bit ago and it took her a while to get here, so maybe it’ll wear off before dinner starts. She just needed to get over it by then. 

Her usual stuff was gone and she frantically kept calling her main guy until he was able to come through, but he had everything but what she usually buys from him. 

Going against her better judgment, she settled for what he had and it was way too strong and it felt way too different, and now everyone was going to know she was high and she’ll embarrass herself, and they’ll hate her forever. Then Elle wouldn’t  want to be her friend anymore, and her Dad will find out, and he’ll cut her out of his life and from the family forever. 

“Fuck!” She shouted into the night air, searching for some reprieve. 

“Mani?” 

“Oh,” she softened some at the sight of her friend, “hey.”

“Are you alright? I brought the gummies you left at my house.”

Oh right. 

She did ask for Elle to bring it. That’s where it was. 

But it was too late. She was already on some other stuff and she had to smoke it and worry that none of it stuck to her skin. 

“No, I’ll be alright without it, but thanks.” She took it and hid it in her purse, and that’s when she saw the little baggie of pills.

Fuck, she was screwed. 

In addition to T seeing her have a mini panic attack he have her the pills free of charge, insinuating she take them. 

“They’re real anxiety pills and shit. People use ‘em just to feel good, but you may want to see a Dr to actually get them prescribed. Let me know if you need something stronger or not as strong, and I’ll hook you up. Take care of yourself.”

Imani closed her purse. 

She’ll just wait until the weed wore off and she wasn’t high to take one, she might not even need it at that point. 

“Imani, let’s get out the cold and inside already.”

Huh?

Imani blinked. 

Alex and Elle were giving her odd looks at the door. 

“Sorry, I zoned out.”

She followed them. 

She needed to pull herself together. She’ll get busted at any point if she keeps this up.

“You guys made it!” Jonesy kissed her and Elle on the cheek. Alex held out a hand for him to shake, but Jonesy pushed his hand away, going straight for the hug. 

“Oh we know each other better than that, Alex.”

“Uh, yeah.” Alex patted Jonesy on the shoulder, politely putting an appropriate amount of space between them. 

“Your coats can go in this closet here.” Jonesy pointed, “Make yourselves comfortable. You all know your way around the place.” He flashed them with a smile and a slight wave, “I’ll let everyone know when dinner is ready.”

“WOW, you look gorgeous Imani!”

“Thank you.” Imani pretended to be flattered by the backhanded compliment. 

Since Deonte’s death she’s developed a nasty habit of wearing his clothes and adopting a lot of his personal style into hers. The extravagant more feminine outfits or even her own particular  style of streetwear was seen less and she wore more dickies and carhartt than anyone in her old circle  had ever seen in their life. 

“Are you planning on returning to the court anytime soon?”

“No, I left my tennis days behind me, I fear.” She chuckled lightly and moved on, making sure not to be rude.

Five more interactions and twice as many more comments about her long silky dress that hugged her curves and how the color complimented her skin, Imani felt like she had a little more control of her senses. A sense of herself had begun to return to her.

“Come here.” A velvety low voice resounded in Imani’s head, and a hand firmly grabbed her and dragged her into a half hallway half corner. 

Was that God? Some sort of Angel punishing her for everyone to see, making her an example of his divine punishment?

“What’s wrong with you?” 

Imani gasped  half a beat after he spoke, her eyes widening as she came face to face with John. 

He grabbed her face in one hand, his thumb and forefingers  slightly digging into her cheek as he moved her face up, down, and side to side. 

“Weed.” She managed to squeak through her squished lips. 

“You sure it’s just that?” He let her go, pulling up a little baggie in front of her face. 

“H-how did you?” 

“Don’t worry about that.’ He steeled. “Answer my question.”

Imani blinked, piecing together her thoughts to remember what the question was again. 

“I’m fi—“

“— no you’re not. Your friend asks you to come somewhere as a favor and you decide that’s the perfect time to get high.”

“That’s not it.” Imani hissed. “Let me answer.”

He held her gaze, but shut up. 

Good. 

“I smoke to take the edge off of being here, not to be out of it completely. Although sometimes, you do need to get that high.” She ignored the disapproval on his face and continued, “I left my usual stuff at Elle’s, so I made a quick irrational decision to take something  else, even though I knew it wasn’t going to go well because I refuse to be  here sober.”

“Doesn’t explain these pills.”

“They're back up—“

“They’re a crime.” Imani flinched at the bite in his voice. “I could arrest you just for having these. You already admitted they were yours.” 

“I just—“

“John, you made it!” Elle’s warm soft voice filtered out between them. 

“This is why we don’t bring you nowhere. Can’t show up anywhere on time. Don’t take your coat off and shit.” Alex shook his head, saying the last part lowly so no one around them could hear. 

John didn’t spare them any pleasantries and Imani must have looked as panicked as she felt, so much for being discreet. 

“What’s going on here?” Alex's expression fell, his brows drawing close and his mouth falling shut into a firm line to match John’s.

John silently flashed the bag of pills before stuffing them back in his pocket. 

“Your friend is high, out of her mind.”

“Is that why you said you didn’t need the gummies?” Elle turned to look her in the eye, but Imani turned, not wanting her to see the look on her face. But Elle stepped closer, gently grabbing her shoulders. 

Imani kept her gaze cast to the side. 

“Mani,” Elle whispered, “what did you do?”

“I called Tony and he didn't have what I wanted, so I had to take what he had and then he recommended these pills  he said  they was for anxiety or something like that because apparently he thinks I have it or that something’s wrong with me  and offered to be my unofficially psychiatrist or some  shit but then advised I see a real one if I took these and felt like they helped but I wasn’t going to take them unless the weed didn’t work which it isn’t so once it wears off I’m taking them but I can’t now because he took them so I—“

“Mani, breathe.” She sighed. 

 Imani hated that sound, and she  hated the look on her friends’ face even more. . 

“I’m sorry.” It spilled out of her mouth. “I just wanted to feel comfortable in my skin. I didn’t want to be here.  I just want. . . I hate how they look at me.”

“It’s okay, Imani.” With a tissue, she didn’t see her pull out her purse, Elle dabbed at the tears she wasn’t aware of, “let’s just get through tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” Imani urged, desperate to show her sincerity. . Her mind not letting her come up with anything more thought out, everything she was feeling felt messier and harder to describe. 

“I know, I know.”  Elle cupped both sides of Imani’s face and brought her forehead to hers. 

“Let’s talk tomorrow okay.” She gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and Imani gave her one back on hers. “No excuses, Elle added.” A smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“If I have to hurt Jimmy to make time for you to be with me this week , don’t get mad at me for it.” Imani smiled back. 

“And I won’t.”

Imani nodded, for some reason feeling better.

John didn’t look like he approved any more or less, and Alex’s face seemed unreadable to her. 

“Can I have my drugs back?”

“No.” John said seriously without missing a beat.

Imani rushed to him and pulled at the front of his shirt. 

“You can keep the pills. I just need the other stuff that’s in there.”

If she remembered correctly, there might have been some shrooms and a bit of weed left.

He pried her hands off his chest.  

“Are you seriously asking a cop if you can have your illegal substances back?”

“No, I'm asking a cop if I can have the  legal substances back that happen to be in the bag with the illegal ones.”

“You mean you’re illegal ones.”

“Please.” She stepped into his personal space and rested  her chin on his chest, craning her neck up as she did so she could look him in the eye.”Please can I just have the mushrooms back?”

“Oh just the mushrooms?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yes!” Imani leaned back from him. Happily grabbing at his arms as they rested at his sides. 

“Well I’m that case,” He started to move  his hand  and Imani immediately stepped back to accommodate him,” no.” He shrugged his coat off his shoulders and straightened his blazer on his body. 

“John, don't antagonize her.” Elle lightly chided.

Alex nodded in agreement. A hint of amusement in his eyes. “Elle’s right, don’t antagonize her John.”

Imani slumped forward, letting her cheek rest on his chest as she pouted.

“What are you doing?” John said, too exasperated to even let out a sigh, ignoring both  Alex and Elle.

 His display of emotion was a delightful anomaly to Imani. How could he look so upset but nonchalant at the same time? 

“I’m not moving until you give them back.” She huffed through her nose.

“Then I guess we better get comfortable.” He murmured in a low peeved voice, flooding her senses with its bass and depth. She could listen to him speak forever. 

“Mani, no.” Elle hissed. “Get off him.”

“He has my drug—“

Alex lowered himself so he was at her level and could get in her face. “Get. Up.” He said through gritted teeth, his tone sending a chill down her spine.  

Imani  rose to stand straight, but she was not happy about it. 

He didn’t  leave her any room. She tried to step past him, but he took one forceful step forward, backing her into John’s chest. 

“Act like you have some sense.” He pointed in her  face. 

“No one told you to do these drugs and no one told you to bring them here. Be grateful John, or me, isn't  arresting you in front of your friends and dragging  you out that door.”

“I—“

He  wordlessly gave her a look, daring her to speak and interrupt him.

Imani shut her mouth.

“If you’ll do what I say, then you’ll do what he says, do you understand me?”

Imani nodded silently, not wishing to provoke him further. 

He patted her cheek and then backed up to take his place by Elle’s side. 

“You aren’t my fucking Dad.” She muttered under her breath. 

“What was that?”

“I said you aren’t my—“ 

“Dinner is ready!” Jonesy popped around the corner with a smile. 

On instinct, Imani plastered a smile on her face and shifted her body language to something casual that suggested polite conversation. 

“Thank you, we’ll be right there.” She slightly bowed her head. 

“Oh,” Jonesy paused, his brows raising, “when did you and John get so close?”

Imani was no longer resting onto his chest, but she hadn’t removed herself from his personal space. While she would no longer lay on him as he stood, she settled for resting her hands on his lower half, close to his pockets. 

She’s been attempting to ease them in his pocket and take her drugs out, but he either smacks her hand away or grabs it before squeezing very tightly until tears pricked her eyes, so she just kept them there in case there was a small window he wouldn’t notice her hand slipping into his pocket again. 

“We haven’t.” Was all Imani said, her smile unwavering. 

Adding to her amusement, John stayed silent behind her. 

She watched out the corner of her eye, as he discretely moved the bag from his pants pocket to the one  inside his jacket. 

Fuck. 

There goes plan A.

“Everyone to their seats.” Jonesy declared loudly, his voice filling the room before scurrying off with a terribly concealed grin. 

Imani was very familiar with dinner parties at Jonesy’s house. He was a stickler for order and had a flair for presentation, decoration, and all things that went into being a great hostess.

One of those things he never budged on and will always obsess over to every minute detail, is the seating arrangement. 

Childish as hell to some, and by some, mostly her, the seats were often set by a system only he understood, something about the structure to set up the perfect flow of conversation, so they never lulled and no one was ever bored. 

Imani had the same seat around the same people each night, but not this time. 

She was by John, Imani and Alex at a completely different spot by the head of the table. 

The fuck?

They were practically at the end. 

When Imani brought Elle, they were placed closer to the head but not there directly. Imani would be on the left and Elle would be on her right. 

She peered down the table to glance at Alex and Elle once more. 

He was on her right. 

Imani’s brain struggled to put the pieces together.

“Imani,” a blond woman who had a clearly younger and equally  blonde man stuck to her side. He fawned over her every movement, but the hollow glint in his eyes was off putting.

 A forced  display of desire? Or was he really that bad at hiding how much he hated the woman who was undoubtedly paying him to be here? “I heard you were investing in restaurants? What a cute adventure.”

“Not investing,” Imani took a careful sniff of her green beans before taking a bite, the accent of almonds in some type of balsamic glaze? Went really well together, a perfect way of combining flavor and texture, but the green beans were undercooked, making the dish crunch unpleasantly in her mouth, “I own a cafe and I’m slowly making my debut into the fine dining community here in DC. There’s this chef– Jimmy Raines, who reached out after visiting my cafe and trying one of my pastries. He—“

“So it’s true?” She smiled thinly, smirking, “you’re actually making food in these places? You aren’t just investing?”

“Well I, for one,  think it’s wonderful,” a brown skinned gentleman next to her interrupted, “Imani is truly exemplifying how she's the best of us each and everyday, and if she figured out a way to get income from her hobbies, then I say brava.” 

Imani gave Sharvesh a quick smile of thanks, but turned her attention back towards her plate. 

There was the option of Chicken or Pork Chop, and she went for both. 

The chicken was perfect, but the porkchop was dry, even more so  disappointing, they both were seasoned the same. The flavours were not too compelling, not even in a garlic powder onion powder way of simple and good, Only salt and pepper, but they weren’t that high quality in cuts that warranted such a simple flavor palette. 

They at least could have been basted or crusted in some type of herbs. 

The only good thing had to be the potatoes.

Fondant, to be exact. 

She made a mental note to ask Jimmy to teach her how to make them. 

“May you pass the potatoes down, please?” She had to have more, her stomach felt like it opened a portal and transformed into a bottomless pit that would never get full. 

Before she could put her fork down and take the platter, John had already reached for it, his arm more than long enough to reach over for it before she could. 

Wordlessly, he puts some on her plate for her before adding some more to his owne, 

Imani thanks him softly, and digs in, not wasting any time. 

“Can I have them back now?” Imani leaned towards him to whisper in his ear. 

“If you behave.” Was all he said in between bites of his food. 

Sighing, she takes another bite of her chicken. 

Sharvesh directs his attention towards her, ready to say or ask something else, as he takes the platter back, but John interrupts him. 

“You mind passing the chicken down here too?”

“Of course.” His shoulders drop some, but he complies, recovering with a quick smile. 

They were going dish per dish, plate for plate. If he wanted something, she also wanted that something and vice versa.

Dessert was atrocious and she couldn’t fight the indignant sound that came out of her mouth. 

It was some type of… peach cobbler inspired thing. . . Shaped cylinder made up of layers. The peaches were clearly canned, insipid, and flavorless, overwhelmingly covered in fructose. The layer of crust was dry and it fell apart in the mouth in the worst possible way. The only good thing  about it was the scoop of ice cream on the side. A terrible choice for the presentation, but at least something about it was edible. 

“Can I have your ice cream?” Imani said a little too loudly. The disgust in her voice is clear and easy to pick out  in her semi inebriated state. 

Imani was seconds away from loudly complaining, before John pinched her side faster than she could speak. 

John leaned towards her, and dropped his voice. “This is not behaving.” he hushly growled in her ear with more bite than she could physically comprehend. He wouldn't dare openly glare at her, but the threat in his voice made up for what his face could not.

She swallowed, ignoring the chill that ran down her side and the knot of warmth that quickly raced through her lower belly. 

Imani flinched away from him. Unable to fight the fear that he might do. . . Something. 

The look on his face and tone of his voice made her think of a look she remembered a mother giving her child in public one time. 

Apparently, she is acting out. 

“How was dinner? It was nice wasn’t it?” Elle questioned as they stood around once more for cocktails. 

“Don't ask a question and not give someone a chance to answer.” Imani scolded into her cup without looking up. “And then don't give your answer first.” 

“Well someone’s clearly sober.” Ellle half singed in a soft voice. “How do you feel?”

Imnai frowned, pondering.

“Upset. . . but not like, disappointed.” She licked her lips. It would be mean to say it out loud , but she couldn't fight the nagging voice in the back of her head. The thought of saying it, seeing her say it, and all the possible reactions of the words once she said them, were starting to become its own beast. The thought of not saying it at all begins to eat away at her and she now has to say it.

“Upset. . .dinner was, well it wasn’t terrible but it could have been better.”

“You and John practically ate half of everything?” Alex’s brows drew together.

“That was mostly potatoes and the. . “ She turned towards John who was scarfing down one of the “dessert cocktails, “what was the vegan dish?”

“Red pepper chickpea souffle’.”

“Hot hummus.” Imani nodded matter of factly.

“Definitely sober.” Elle said with a shake of her head and a smile.

“I’m sorry,” Alex interrupted, looking concerned, “are we just okay with Imani being rude as hell for no reason.”

Imani’s face felt like a child’s would if they’re parents told them no after they asked for ice cream. Her cheeks puffing in another pout.

“It's not on purpose.”

“She was raised to be emotionally unavailable and is learning to express herself emotionally.”

“Elle!” Imani said shortly in warning.

“She left her feelings wheel at home.”

Imani opened her mouth to defend herself, but quickly closed it in realization.

Elle was doing this on purpose. Why? 

“Ain't nothing wrong with trying to better yourself.” John interrupted out of nowhere. “The right way is always better than self medication.” he tossed his drink on the nearest tray as it went by. “But what do I know? It's not like I got a degree in psychology or anything  fancy like that.

“Nigga, done read two books sand thinks he knows something.”

Imani laughed, rolling her eyes.

They said their goodbyes and grabbed their coats, shuffling back out into the chill of the night air.

“Mani!” Elle called out.

She turned, the wind whipped at her face. The snowflakes falling into her lashes slightly obscured her vision,“Yeah?!” She called back.

“John’s taking you home.”

And he did.

“There are more things than drugs that can take the edge off” he was so close, his words rumbled against Imani’s face, pulling at something within her  and making her pussy throb. 

Her tongue felt thick as she licked her lips. 

“Like what?”

Like what included Imani’s bare  back to his still dressed chest, watching his leather clad fingers rub torturously slow firm  strokes against her clit. 

“Please. . . “ she whimpered, throwing her head back into his chest, her smooth bare  legs shamelessly spreading wider, straining against his pant legs. 

She attempted to grab his offending hand with hers to do something, anything, but he stopped her, restraining  her hands against her chest in a tight grip.

“I’m so close.” She tried again with a sniffle. His deft fingers found a way to circle the sensitive nub of her clit even slower, before sliding off down her lips and into the wet center of her pussy. He curled his fingers in an equally slow pace, fueling her desire and bringing her back to the edge. Driving her insane, but nowhere near what she wanted. 

“Look at you,” he trailed firm sloppy kisses down her neck before coming back up. Imani Relished the feeling of his lips. Craning her head back into his chest so he could trail them along her jaw. 

He pulled his fingers out of her pussy to hold her chin back, her arousal pooling between them on the bed and what was left of it on his fingers trickled down her face as his lips locked onto hers in a backwards upside down kiss. 

She keened into his mouth as he wantonly pushed his tongue past her lips to slide his tongue against hers. 

“I wonder what sound you’ll make after you taste yourself on my tongue.” He added another finger and started sliding them in and out of her at a faster pace. 

“Oh,” she softly let out. 

He brought his other hand to her clit, letting go of his cruel grip on her hands. 

She immediately brought them to his arms, squeezing tightly at his sleeves, but she wouldn’t dare stop him, not while she felt so good. 

His finger glided across her clit at a steady cruel pace. With each stroke of leather against her puffy nub she gushed around his other fingers that slid in and out  of her pussy. His thick long fingers were filling her up. 

“Look at you,” his voice was hot  and low as it brushed against her ear,  “all that talk, but you do just what I want you to.”

“Please,” she strains, somehow straining her legs wider. He responds by curling his finger into her, digging her out and hitting a spot she didn’t know was there. Her hips chased the movent, and he didn’t stop her, letting her fuck herself onto his hands.

“And you ask so sweetly” his rich dulcet tone was a song in her ear she didn’t want to end. She’d let it get stuck in her head forever. 

“You wanna cum for me?” He added another finger not waiting for her to respond. 

Imani mewled, blinking away a stream of tears as they stung her eyes. 

His words pulled at something within her. The desire had her body ablaze, but his request was adding a foreign feeling into the mix. Tinging her desire with another burning emotion that electrified her nerves and filled her with something akin to bashfulness or fear, but it was a fear colored with an excitement for more that she would never admit, unless  he made her, and something told her he could. 

He pushed down on her clit. 

She cried out against the movement, her hips jolting foward in shock, but pressing against his hands just as much, increasing the impending pressure, causing her to leak onto the hand that was sliding in and out of her. 

“Cum for me.” 

And she did. 

Her legs jolted and tensed, as she spilled into his gloved hand. 

Before she could let out any moan, he snaked his head around her to swallow any and every sound in a kiss, his beard danced against her cheeks as he did. The slide of his tongue on her matched the movements of his hand buried in her pussy as he buried them inside her, coaxing  her through her orgasm.. 

Once over, he eased from behind her. 

Imani layed back onto her sheets with parted lips. Watching with hooded eyes as John stood over her. 

She swallows the lump in her throat as she watches him enveloped his own gloved fingers  past his lips, lapping as much of you as he could off them. 

When he slid his hand out his mouth, something in his face changed, making her body flush with even more heat. The thin sheen of sweat  on her body started to burn, unable to catch up with her ever flowing desire and the man who caused it. 

He tugged roughly  at  his gloves and threw  them on her nightstand. 

Her hips dipped in the bed as she watched him unbutton his shirt, revealing the expense of flushed dark brown skin overflowing with a warm undertow of gold. 

She pant for  more, her tongue threatening to lathe out her mouth at the sight.

She needed her mouth on his skin. 

The smirk he gave her as he shoved himself out of his pants sent a jolt through her body. 

“Keep those legs open. I want to taste you.”

And taste her he did. 

Imani shoved at his head as much as she could, pushing with all her might, but he ignored her and latched his mouth on her more firmly, sucking hard at her clit. 

His bare hands felt even better, but she couldn’t take it. 

Her lips were sore and puffy and her clit was aching. 

Each push and pull of his finger inside of her brought another tear to her eye, and his mouth on her clit only made her keen and whine at the pain, but her pussy had other thoughts. 

What she registered as pain and too much, her body only felt an override of pleasure. 

Her legs strained open, pathetically begging for more and giving him easy access. She gushed and flooded his tongue with each cry, whine, and whimper. 

“Please, please, please. . .” Was all her brain would let her say through her cries of ecstasy and tears. 

“I’m giving you all I got baby,” he added a third finger, his voice against her puffy pussy making her squeeze each and every one of them, unbearably filling her up more than her mind could comprehend, “what more do you want.” 

He switcher from sucking on her clit to lathing it with his tongue. Swiping with slow firm movements. Her hips follows each one. With his tongue hitting her clit just right, his fingers stuffed snuggly inside her, and his beard scratching oh so pleasantly at her sensitive overstimulated skin, she came again without warning, 

He hummed against her, making the feeling that much more euphoric and that much more unbearable. 

He pulled his fingers out of her. As they slid out, they were followed by a hot sticky stream of her arousal. 

“You’re so creamy.” He kissed her inner thigh, smearing the mess she was making further along her body, 

He pushed his tongue in her, his beard scratching overwhelmingly at her pussy. Wet, sloppy sounds and matching slurps filled the room as he continued to eat her out. 

Imani clutched the back of his head, pulling at his hair. She’d had enough. She couldn’t take anymore and she needed to put a stop to him now or else he’d kill her. . She’d be surprised  if her knuckles weren’t raw and split in the morning from how hard she was pulling, but it only encouraged him, 

He moaned into her, making her whimper and lose her grip,

“Please. . “

She didn’t realize it until he was looking at her through her legs that she had came again. 

He looked half crazed. A hunger so deep and intense, she had to avert her gaze, but her eyes were  back on him once he made his ascent towards her. Without looking away, he crawled over her body. 

“Come here.” He said like velvet, leaning down, he trapped her in a hard kiss. Haunting her senses and  pushing against her further, swiping against her mouth more intently than he had the entire night. 

“Mmh,” she whimpered in between kisses. They were soft and keening. 

When she had made one particularly drawn out mewl his hips pushed against hers, causing his dick to smear precum against her lower belly. 

 “Mmmmm.” He broke the kiss in satisfaction. “Keep that up.”

He moved her to her side, putting one  of her legs around his waist as he settled behind her on his side. 

“You ready?” He smirked against her ear, kissing her right below it. His breath was hot. 

She shook her head into the sheets, straining her eyes shut in worry. 

If he wasn’t holding her, she’d collapse into the bed, and her pussy was worn out and tired. 

“Oh, you can take it. Don’t be like that.” The gentleness of his voice was in contradiction with the cruel way he rubbed his dick through her folds. Holding one hand at the base, he meticulously and cruelly swayed it from side to side before smacking it against her pussy and then repeating the action. 

“Mhm,”  she  whined in protest, “stop.”

“See, “ he ignored her, "you can,” he pushed inside of her without warning, “take it.”

Imani couldn’t remember the last time she felt so full. She couldn’t  remember the last time she wanted someone to fill her up. He was opening up a desire she forgot she had. 

He started with slow languid thrusts. 

“Damn, baby.” He moaned in her ear. “Damn—“

She clenched around him, making him swear. 

He thrust into her harder and she keened, her walks opening back around him.

“Just like that, keep taking it,” he graveled in her ear, “you take me so well.”

Imani mewled, squeezing tight against him once more. 

His hips snapped harder, pushing through how tight her pussy was holding onto him. 

“Fuck. . .” She moaned softly. 

His hot chuckle danced on her skin as she swore for the first time tonight. 

“You like that baby.” 

She let out a drawn out moan.

“You like when I tell you how good you're doing? Like when I tell you how good you take this big fat dick? That you let me fill you up like this? Dig you out?”

He licked his lips before kissing along her neck. 

His beard rubbed deliciously against her skin, the satisfying scratch heightening her senses. 

She let out a long string of incoherent noises, unable to talk back. 

He smirked into her  neck as he pushed her onto her belly, snapping his hips into hers at a grueling pace, her walks desperate to keep as much of him inside as they could. 

Without wanting, she snaked her hand around to grab his head and pull him closer.

“John.” She moaned.

His duck jumped inside her. 

“John.” She called out again. Her voice was soft and strained with need. 

A need for him. 

John had plenty of women who wanted him, who threw themselves at him, and sometimes it was women he may have wanted just as much, but he can’t call how many of them needed him. Not like this. Not this much. 

That wasn’t his style. That’s not who he was. That’s not how he got the name Two-John.

But tonight, he’d let himself be needed. 

But only for a moment. 

Mustering up the last of his strength, he thrusts into her harder, faster. 

She went limp under him. Her hand slipped out of his  hair and beside her head. Not taking any chances, he grabs her hands and refrains them above her head. Her pussy throbs around him and he makes a mental note of that. 

She whimpers, keens, and mewls, and shuts up.

Freeing him of thoughts of being needed. 

“You like it rough too?” He slowed down, thrusting as hard as he could with each stroke, letting her feel every inch from tip to base.

“Cum on this dick baby. Cum for me.” 

He enveloped her neck with his teeth, biting hard. She moaned  into his mouth and he moaned as he felt it vibrate in his lips. 

By some unforeseen power, she did. Imani came just when he told her too. 

She squirmed in his mouth. But as his hips slowly moved her through her orgasm as he also came down from his, she attempted to move her neck but he wrapped his hand around her throat as he bit her again,  squeezing firmly. His other hand grabbed at her hands, leaving her at his mercy. 

He let go of her neck, lapping at the intentions of his teeth before moving to her collar.

As her pussy painfully throbbed, snd the sting on her neck followed suit, an odd sensation like she was being punished washed over her as she settled down.

“John.” She called out again.

It seemed to pull him out of his trance. 

However, he didn’t move his mouth off of her without one final clench of his teeth. She whined, shuffling against his grip and the feeling of his dick softening and the condom inside her.

He peeled himself off her.

Imani felt an odd sense of Deja vu as she watched him with hooded eyes as he moved above her once more that night. 

His chest rising and falling heavily under a thick sheen of sweat. 

She had had one to match, her skin sticky as well, but she was so exhausted her lungs failed to rise and fall in her exertion. She only pant silently into the air. 

John was going to tell her he should go. 

Grab his clothes and make an exit.

But he couldn’t stare himself from her gaze. Those big brown eyes and puffy round cheeks, tugs at something within him he thought he buried  long ago, but if it did occasionally  come out it’s grave, he knew how to fight it back down into the pit where it belonged, but it wasn’t until now, after he came, did he realize he fucked up. 

“You got a bathroom?” He needs to focus on something. Focus on a task until he could find a way to leave you. 

“Other side.”

Her artsy open plan loft was off putting. 

There were no hallway walls. Every room bled into the other except for  the one extra room downstairs and the bathroom. 

He’s confident the single room above that looked over every  size of the loft, that also had no surrounding walls, was your bed. 

He grunted once he finally found the bathroom and the lined closet. Running warm water over it he made his way back. 

There were plants galore, art and other knick knacks  littered everywhere in an organized mess. An island? Oversized bar cart? Whatever it wasproudly displays an espresso machine and equipment and tools he didn't understand. 

If it’s a bar cart, it’s a waste to not have  a proper alcohol display, but to each their own. 

“If that’s your room upstairs than this is—“

“Yeah it’s Deonte’s room.” She interrupted him, fidgeting as he cleaned her up. He tried to look into her eyes and gauge where her head was at, but she kept averting her gaze. 

“Can we not talk about it?” The softness of her plea startled him. 

Reminiscent of a tone he’s heard Elle use ever so often with Alex, but not as headstrong or demanding. It was insecure, panicked, and vulnerable. 

He nodded, wordlessly climbing into bed. 

He froze as she instantly moved against him, cuddling into his side and wrapping an arm around his waist as he laid on his back. She snuggled up against him as if she belonged there, and for half a second, it felt that way. 

Unable to find an excuse, he stayed.

But as she  drifts to sleep, he keeps thinking what exactly he got himself into. 

Fucking a woman in her dead exes bed, a woman who hadn’t had sex with anyone since his death three to four years ago, sharing a moment he knew was just sex, but what did she think it was? 

But he remembers her other suitors.

 The way Elle complains when she blows off or intentionally ruins the dates she sets Imani up with.

How Elle makes side comments whenever she brushes off a guy who hits on her and asks for her number, and he settles, drifting into a sleep as deep as hers because if anyone wanted a relationship less than he did, it would be Imani Louds. 

He was sure of it. 

.

.

.

.

taglist: @megamindsecretlair @nerdieforpedro @blackpinup22 @kindofaintrovert @notapradagurl7 @unknownpinner @jedinightsister @m1sk1n3

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@bbyxgall @blackpinup22 @sweettea-and-honeybutter

@brattyfics @blowmymbackout @cherrypoppers1

if you notice any errors, please let me know. My brain hurts and i have no beta readers.

[crazypsychonerdstuff]

Alright, self-indulgent Alastor queer-platonic fluff below!

I need him in my life so badly. I don't care that he's a psychotic, cannibalistic serial killer! New comfort character alert!!!

Very random and disjointed, I haven't read through it, and I typed it straight into the drafts, so that's why it's probably really messy 😅

🎃

It would definitely take a long time for the two of you to become close, and even longer still for him to admit to you being significantly more important than anyone else to him.

You are the only person (except maybe Nifty) who is allowed to touch him, though he'd much appreciate if you asked first and not just surprised him with touching him.

In relation to that^, though he may not be too fond of hugs and cuddles, at least at first, he will allow you to lean into him on occasion without much protest. Though never in public.

On tge flip side, he's ALWAYS touching you. Whether it's patting you on the head, leaning on your shoulder, putting an arm around your shoulders/waist, holding your hand, physically moving you rather than asking you to move

Despite his... questionable eating habits, the dude's actually an excellent cook and he will often make meals for the two of you.

He likes to spend his spare time with you, the two of you listening to the radio +/ reading.

No TV. Just no.

Though if you ask nicely enough, he MIGHT join in on movie night. Though if he does, expect him to be giving a commentary throughout the whole thing (ie, him verbally pulling apart the movie and pointing out any inaccuracies that occur no matter how seemingly insignificant.)

He likes music and will happily listen to your recommendations (he might not like them all, but he's willing to listen)

I get the feeling he'd like some stuff by Aurelio Voltaire. And maybe a couple of songs by Abney Park.

Don't get me started on his ears! They are so soft and fluffy! He is really reluctant to let you near them at first, but eventually he will give in and let you pet them.

He's actually really surprised that he enjoys it too, so after that he will let you stroke his ears on occasion, usually when he's had a rough day and needs comfort.

His tail is floofy too, but he's not too keen on you touching it. He won't get mad at you as such, just give you an unamused look and move out of reach.

So yeah, don't touch the tail... on purpose.

You two have taken to hanging out in that spooky forest that's somehow attached to his room. It keeps everyone else away and face it, if you're close to Al, you probably don't mind creepy stuff!

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, bit silly but I'm writing a disabled character, who switches between using a wheelchair and cane and I've been writing him for a few years now and I can't actually come up what makes him disabled. Not sure what works or what "condition" would make sense for him? He's an ambulatory wheelchair user I know that, sometimes uses a cane but largely in the rough draft he prefers his manual wheelchair.

Any references or ideas? Sorry if this comes off weird or bad

Hello!

There are quite a few disabilities that can cause him to use a wheelchair and cane. They can help with things like chronic pain, instability/weakness in one or both legs, balance or coordination issues, and general mobility issues.

Some conditions that immediately come to mind include:

Arthritis

Cerebral Palsy

Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS)

Fibromyalgia

Hypermobility Spectrum Disorder (HSD)

Multiple Sclerosis (MS)

Muscular Dystrophy

A balance disorder, such as vertigo or Meniere's Disease.

A past injury, such as an injury to the legs or a spinal cord injury.

Because of certain factors such as your character's sex, age, and previous life experiences, he may be more likely to have some conditions over others. Additionally, some of these -- such as cerebral palsy or spinal cord injuries -- only match his specific situation in more mild forms, so make sure to keep that in mind!

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus