#posted last week but it's so hard for me to get on here

[bbyseok]

Nights Like This : Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Word count: 3k words

Content: Avenger!Bucky, gender neutral reader, petnames ‘sweetheart’ and ‘doll’ used, rivals to lovers, canon typical violence/injuries, some explicit language, romantic/sexual tension, suggestiveness

Synopsis: You’re a SHIELD agent with the night off… until a certain super soldier shows up at your door.

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything and this is my first time writing for Bucky, so please enjoy! <3 And ty to my pookie Moony for moral support :3

— — —

You’re off duty. It’s a quiet night, a rare moment of peace where New York or any other place on the planet isn’t facing some impending danger.

So here you are in your quaint Brooklyn flat, rather than your designated room in the Avengers Tower in order to maintain this temporary peace all to yourself. No ongoing missions, no super enhanced roommates, no interfering AI (though you know JARVIS means well).

Curled up on the sofa, there’s some mediocre action movie playing on the TV screen as you nurse a bowl of your chosen snack. The last few weeks have been rough—tactical work on the field always is.

Your body can feel the exertion taking a toll on your limbs now as you sink further into the couch cushions with a sigh. Honestly, you’re tempted to doze off right here and now when suddenly, something proves that your peace is indeed temporary.

A knock sounds at the door.

You stir, a frown on your lips as you glance at the source of the noise. You hadn’t been expecting anyone, certainly not at this hour. You mutter, “Who the hell…”

You set aside your bowl on the coffee tabble and reach for your handgun you had placed aside. (What? One can never be too careful in this sort of profession.)

Not bothering to turn the TV off, you creep towards the front door and peek through the eyehole for a person—only to be met with the sight of something even worse.

It’s Bucky.

James Buchanan Barnes, the formidable Winter Soldier turned redeemed Avenger, a force to be reckoned with in the throes of combat. Though, you know him as something else entirely.

A pain in the ass.

You don’t even remember how it started. Ever since you joined the team, he’s been on your nerves. From criticizing your performance during missions to making teasing comments when you’re minding your own business in the Tower.

(It doesn’t help that he looks damn good when doing it, but hey, no one heard that from you.)

With an exasperated sigh, you unlock the door and swing it open, fixing him with an unamused expression. “What the hell are you doing here, Bucky?”

He looks a little worse for wear. You remember that he had been assigned a long mission a while ago, which it seems like he had finally wrapped up considering the fact that he’s still clad in his gear. His metal arm is definitely dirty, but it still gleams somewhat due to the hallway light from above. His hair is messy and there’s a few cuts on his face.

(He still looks good. Unsurprisingly.)

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky simply greets, a ghost of a smirk curling on his lips as he leans on your doorframe. You’re tempted to shut the door right in his stupid handsome face... but then you notice he’s clutching his side with his flesh arm and— shit, he’s bleeding. “You gonna let me in or what?”

You blink hard in disbelief. Disbelief that one: he had come to you out of all people after getting injured apparently, and two: that he had gotten injured in the first place. Now you know he isn’t invincible, but it still takes you by surprise.

“There better be a good explanation for this,” you grumble under your breath, swinging the door open wider to make way for him.

Bucky eyes the gun still in your hand. “Hope you aren’t looking to put me out of my misery and using that on me,” he remarks dryly as he makes his way inside, still clutching the bloody side of his abdomen.

You roll your eyes and shut the door promptly, but not without casting a surveying glance outside just to ensure that he hadn’t been followed. You doubt it ‘cause it’s Bucky, but again, one can’t be too careful.

Bucky makes his way to your sofa, and you internally cringe knowing all the grime and dirt he’s going to leave on it.

He’s only been in your apartment once.

A few months ago, when he had insisted on walking you home himself after a night out with the rest of the team drinking. Vaguely, you remembered through your headache the following morning of him helping you into your apartment and tucking you into bed.

(He hadn’t brought it up afterwards, so you didn’t too.)

“Do not sit your filthy ass on my couch, Barnes,” you stop him before he can do such a thing, and he turns to offer you a glare. His icy gaze is enough for you to feel the chills, but you point to another door.

“Bathroom,” you inform, “I have first aid in there.”

With a grunt, the super soldier trudges over to the door. Before you follow him, you toss the handgun back on the coffee table. He’s taking in the appearance of your bathroom when you join him inside. He meets your eyes in the mirror, and you can tell he’s about to say something.

Before he can though, you forcefully make him sit down on to the toilet seat, to which he blinks up at you with that same icy stare.

“Care to tell me why you’re here?” you pry with a slight frown. You can feel his eyes lingering on you whilst you open a cabinet for the required items for first aid.

“The end of the mission just went differently than expected,” Bucky says curtly with a shrug. However, with the movement of his shoulders causes a strained hiss of pain emit from him.

You set aside some of the things—alcohol, wipes, some gauze—to meet his awaiting stare. “That’s not what I meant, Bucky,” you reply in a quiet tone, your brows coming to a furrow.

He blinks at you real slow.

“I meant.. why did you come here?” you ask more firmly, shaking your head, “I’m sure you can get patched up at the Tower. Or hell, maybe even a hospital nearby.”

Bucky is silent for a few heartbeats. “You were closer. Saved me the trouble,” he clarifies. He then adds, “Unless you want me to leave.”

For some reason, that last part irks you. You heave out a sigh. “No, you’re already here. As funny as it would be, I don’t think the team would appreciate you dying out on a street after I sent you away.”

His lips twitch into something of amusement. “Don’t know. I think Stark would find that pretty funny too.”

You almost laugh. You match his amused expression before tapping at his right arm that’s still applying pressure to whatever wound he has. “Lemme see.”

He gingerly moves his arm out of the way, but it’s hard to determine what the wound is with the gear still on. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to take this off, Barnes,” you comment, narrowing your eyes at the blood staining the material.

Bucky huffs but he begins tugging and removing the straps and buckles and whatnot. It’s a struggle considering the fact that he’s tired and injured—but touching him feels too awkward, too intimate.

Eventually, he removes the top part of his suit off with a grunt and— oh, he’s shirtless.

You try not to stare. Obviously it’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless. After some missions, days in the training room, in your dreams… but he can’t ever know that.

“That bad?”

His voice abruptly stirs you out of your staring. You can see the injury now—it looks like a bullet grazed his side just barely. You hum in acknowledgment, “Unfortunately, you’ll live.”

A hoarse chuckle leaves Bucky then. “You don’t sound so thrilled now, doll.”

You grab the bottle of isopropyl alcohol and some of the gauze you had placed near the sink to dab at the wound. He grits his teeth at the sting, but other than that, he doesn’t move.

“Oh trust me, I am beyond elated,” you retort, voice dripping with sarcasm. You try to focus on completing first aid, rather than the fact that you’re touching him—his bare skin.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t say anything in return. But honestly, you wish he would because you can feel his eyes burning into you. It’s almost unnerving. He lets you finish in silence.

The quiet that fills the space of the bathroom is heavy but not uncomfortable. It’s just the sound of you cleaning and patching up his injury and his soft breathing.

When you’re finished, you sigh. Your eyes flicker upwards to his face, your lips flitting into a small frown to see his face still bruised and cut. Without another word, you start tending to that too.

Bucky blinks in brief surprise. “You don’t have to,” he says lowly, but he doesn’t protest any further nor move away from your touch.

A particular cut on his cheek makes him wince when you go over it, and absentmindedly, you grasp his chin to tilt his head back your way. He blinks hard again.

“Stay still,” you chide, pursing your lips in concentration. He does just that.

Finally, you’re done. When you pause in your ministrations, your breath nearly catches in your throat as your eyes meet his. It’s only now do you realize just how close the two of you are with you leaning in.

You can feel the warmth of his breath when he speaks. “Thanks,” he murmurs quietly into the very little space between you.

“I…” You don’t pull away, not yet. The stormy blue of his eyes up close like this is almost startling. And then you lean back. “Don’t mention it,” you brush off.

Bucky shifts on the toilet seat, eyes still watching you like a hawk as you fix and put away the first aid items away back in their place. “You gonna kick me out now?” he jests, something to ease the tension in the atmosphere. At least, you think that’s what he’s trying to do.

It works, at least. “I’m sure you can show yourself out the door,” you retaliate. You turn back to glance at him. “Unless you need me to hold your hand.”

He rolls his eyes and stands with a grunt. “I think I can manage.”

Oh, fuck, he’s still shirtless—you blatantly realize as he rises to his full height. Suddenly the bathroom feels much smaller than it actually is. If it had been another time, you might’ve laughed since he looks so out of place standing there.

“Well,” you clear your throat, suddenly feeling awkward, “Have a good night, Barnes.”

Bucky shifts on his weight, his combat boots shuffling on the tiles. “That’s it?” he gets out gruffly.

You quirk up a brow. “So you do want me to hold your hand?”

At that, he puffs out a chuckle, tilting his head in a way that makes his hair frame his face. “Lemme borrow a shirt, at the very least. I don’t think putting my gear on again will be any good.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now as you head out of the bathroom. But he does have a point, so you start your way to the bedroom.

“You owe me then. You’re going to stain one of my precious shirts,” you throw a teasing remark over your shoulder.

But he’s right on your heels, trailing after you. You didn’t think he’d been following so closely behind you, so you quickly look back ahead.

He hums aloud. “You’ll let me pay you back in some way.”

“Damn right.”

The two of you enter your bedroom and you make a beeline for one the dressers in search of a shirt that might fit him. Digging through the clothes, you’re still hyperaware of his presence standing by idly.

You fish out an old tee that he might manage to fit in and hold it out to him.

Bucky takes it into his hands with a tilt of his head. “You’re being awfully kind to me, sweetheart,” he tells you.

His comment prompts you to cross your arms. “Well, you did insist on me helping you out,” you argue with a soft shake of your head.

Bucky only stares. “You still could’ve turned me away.”

“Look, I already told you,” you say, exasperated, “I might not like you but I’m not just gonna not do anything when you show up bleeding in my apartment like it’s a patient room or something.”

“Yeah?”

The man still makes no move to put the shirt on, unrelenting in his stare. (Sam is totally right about his staring problem.) It’s unnerving. Dare you say you can feel a flurry of butterflies stirring in your stomach under the weight of it.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

Bucky closes the distance between you ever so slightly. “Thank you,” he affirms, the fabric of the shirt twisting in his grip, “I mean it. Really.”

His genuine gratitude almost makes you take a step back. Instead, you swallow and nod. “You said that already.”

“I did,” he agrees. He takes another step closer. You don’t move back.

But you blink—uncertain, cautious. “You’re acting strange.” You decide to be blunt and confront him on his current antics. His behavior tonight has confused you too much.

It’s the usual back and forth banter that happens between you—but something felt different… too intimate. The way he had showed up at your door, the proximity in the bathroom, this current confrontation right where you’re standing.

“Only on nights like this,” comes Bucky’s reply as he comes to stand right in front of you. He’s not as close as he was when you were patching him up, but enough to where you can smell the lingering alcohol you had used on his wound.

You blink at him. “Nights when you’re injured?”

Bucky puffs out a laugh. It’s a soft sound. But his next words catch you off guard. “Nights when you make it hard to hold back.”

What?

Your surprise must be colored all over your face because you can see the faintest of smirks on his lips. It stirs up another set of butterflies within you.

“Bucky, what the hell are you talking about?” you manage to inquire, trying to steel your nerves. If he’s implying what you think he’s implying, your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your throat.

“I…” He trails off, his look shifting into something more serious. You can feel the heat of his breath again… but when had he gotten closer? He then murmurs, “Just let me thank you.”

His right hand brushes against the length of your arm, and you can feel the goosebumps he leaves along your skin as he does so. But you don’t pull away. You can’t.

“Put the damn shirt on already, Barnes,” you whisper. You don't even realize that your voice is quieter than you would’ve liked—not with roar of your heartbeat in your ears.

Something cheeky comes across his expression. His smirk returns, and there’s a flicker of mirth in his blue eyes. “I don’t think you want that.”

He’s right though.

You don’t.

“No,” you voice out your agreement.

Against your better judgment, your own hand comes up to tenderly dust your fingertips over his chest. His bare skin is warm and smooth to touch, even with all the scarring both old and new.

Bucky’s breath stutters. It’s a barely audible sound, but you hear it.

What the hell are you doing? Bucky drives you crazy and annoys you to no end—and until now, you thought it had been the same for him. (Turns out you had been driving him crazy in a different way.) There’s a blooming sensation in your chest the longer you stare into Bucky’s eyes.

The words leave your lips before you can think twice.

“I want you to kiss me.”

The world seems to stop for just a moment.

Your lips part in order to say something, anything… maybe to take back the words you had just uttered—before Bucky leans in and kisses you silly.

A groan resonates from his chest as he does. The shirt drops from his metal hand since you can feel the coolness of it cup your cheek, angling your head into the kiss with need.

Your hand mirrors his, feeling the stubble under your palm whilst your other hand allows its fingers to tangle themselves into the threads of his hair.

It’s a blur of what happens next—both of your feet are shuffling against the carpet as you stumble back with his persistence, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed and allowing the two of you to fall onto the mattress.

Bucky presses open-mouthed kisses down your jawline, a hefty laugh sketched onto your skin there. “And here I was, under the impression that you didn’t like me, sweetheart.” He refers to your earlier words.

You want to retort, but you’re a little distracted with the way his weight settles on top of you. God, and he’s still fucking shirtless. You huff, but it’s a fond noise.

He pulls back ever so slightly to look down at you. “Thank you,” he says for the nth time that night. The look in his eyes is enough to make you melt into the bed, but in a pleasant way.

“For what?”

Bucky’s smile radiates charm. For being a man out of time, he’s still got it. “For patching me up. For letting me kiss you. For.. being here for me.”

His unfiltered fondness has your heart thudding faster against your ribcage. Saying “you’re welcome” doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel enough. Not for Bucky—not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters right now. So you say the next best thing.

“Shut up, Barnes.”

And then your fingers are curling into the nape of his neck to pull him down towards you for another breathless kiss.

Hm. Maybe you can get used to having the night off.

[fayes-fics]

Too Good

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome), modern AU

Summary: Sequel to Too Much. Anthony and Benedict take on another challenge you set them.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Dom/sub dynamics - sub!Bridgertons, domme!reader, use of play names/titles (sweet prince, lovely boy, goddess). Mild restraint (leather cuffs), masturbation, smidge of foot worship, mention of cock rings, handjobs, unprotected vaginal sex, creampies.

Word Count: 5.9k

Author's Note: This is a long-awaited request fill for both Anon and @avidspicystoryreader - see the next posts for their asks. Thanks as always to the wonderful @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

You want to bathe in the sound both men make when you emerge into your living room, dressed in your favourite lingerie set. Swaying your hips, revelling in their undivided attention, elated as their pupils dilate rapidly, spying the subtle shifts in their hips, excitement stirring in their jeans as they wait upon your sectional sofa. It's a few weeks into your new playful dynamic, and tonight, they've agreed that you're in charge. 

“What are those?” Anthony queries as you get closer, dropping a pair of leather cuffs onto the coffee table, keeping hold of a second pair as you approach him first.

You step between his splayed knees, his eyes slowly travelling up your body until they reach your face. That's when you choose to answer.

“They are for your wrists, my sweet prince.”

An array of reactions ripple over his handsome face as you invoke your chosen play name for him. They have already agreed to any name you choose to bestow; tonight, Anthony will be your sweet prince, and Benedict shall be your lovely boy. 

“When did I agree to this?” Anthony’s brow creases in wary confusion as you tower over him, snapping the leather between your hands, a challenging eyebrow raised.

“Last night,” Benedict pipes up from the other end of the sofa, looking thoroughly entertained, “after about four whiskeys.”

“I didn’t…” he counters hesitantly, but it’s more of an uncertain query than a statement. 

“Yes, you did…” both you and Benedict answer in unison, your eyes darting to each other and a knowing smile exchanged.

Anthony swallows hard, his eyes fixed on the glint of the buckle on the leather cuffs. “Well, if I am doing this, he is going to have to too…” he gruffs, pointing to his younger brother.

“Oh, I agreed to it immediately, brother, and sober,” Benedict counters, shooting you a molten look before holding his wrists up obediently for you.

You saunter over to him instead, glancing pointedly at Anthony over your shoulder before taking Benedict’s wrists, binding them quickly in the cuffs using the buckle and crawling onto his lap. 

Making a show of it, you push his bound hands high above his head and dive in for a ferocious kiss, your tongue running possessively into his mouth, unashamedly rubbing yourself over his lap as he moans so prettily under you. 

“Lovely boy,” you purr as you break away, and there is a huff from nearby.

“I want to play…” Anthony pouts fractionally, jealous already.

You cut your eyes sideways at him, goading him by lightly running your tongue down Benedict's cheek, enjoying the hitch of sound he makes against your ear.

“Your brother here is the perfect little switch for me, but I wonder if you can be too? Because if you cannot, then I'm afraid, my sweet prince, you will just have to sit there. Just sit and watch as I fuck him utterly senseless...” you tease, knowing you are provoking him now, as Benedict murmurs a curse beneath you, already so very keen.

Anthony emits a light growl. “Yes, yes, I can do that…” he replies impatiently.

You smirk and drag yourself against the growing bulge in Benedict’s jeans as you address Anthony. “Call me your goddess,” you prompt.

“Yes, goddess,” Anthony mumbles, realising he is definitely the one missing out.

“Was that so difficult?” you chuckle, giving Benedict a peck on the lips before standing up, swiping the other set of cuffs and climbing into Anthony’s lap to give him the same treatment.

He is silent as he holds his wrists together for you to bind, just a slight puff of his breath tickling your hair. But when you push your knees wider and rock against his pelvis, pulling him into a kiss, he is pliant under you in a way that makes your stomach swoop with excitement, a softness in his eyes as they open when you end the kiss.

“Perfect, my sweet prince,” you compliment, a little bloom of colour dusk creeping across his cheeks. “Oh, we are going to have so much fun,” you add before hopping off his lap.

“A few rules for tonight, my darling boys…” you drawl, walking over to dim your lights so the room is more atmospheric. “You may only touch me or yourself when bidden; the cuffs should help with your obedience,” you chuckle before continuing. “I, however, can touch you both wherever and however I want unless you invoke your words. What are they?” You pause and look at them expectantly. You already know them; this is just reinforcement.

“Byron,” Benedict immediately pipes up, enthused.

“Bitcoin,” Anthony mutters quietly. 

“Good boys. Now, I decide everything tonight: when or if you come, when, where and even if you get my pussy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my goddess,” they both reply in unison, a frisson over your skin at all the possibilities.

“If you disobey, I won't touch you again,” you warn, turning so you are facing away from them, running your hands over the globes of your bottom, teasing them. “And you definitely won't get any of this….”

You bend over, widening your stance, knowing the opening in your peekaboo lingerie set has parted, so they can see your bare slit, already damp and shining from playing with yourself while getting ready. There are two beautiful moans from behind as you straighten up again, a triumphant smirk as you whip around and order them both to stand up. They spring to their feet, athletic enough not to need their bound hands to do so. Your clit throbs at the prominent outline in both of their jeans. 

Goading Anthony yet again, you approach Benedict, one hand sliding into his hair, pulling his face down to meet yours in a fiery kiss as your other hand falls to his jeans. He makes a delightful sound into your mouth as you grab his cock through the denim. Then, as your tongues parry, slowly pull down the zipper tab. Surprised as your hand encounters steely smooth skin.

“You slutty boy,” you scold mildly as you pull back from his kiss, palming his naked erection.

“All for your convenience, my goddess,” he fawns, breathing slightly laboured.

You smile and turn to Anthony even as you keep teasing Benedict’s cock.

“This here, my sweet prince? This is a very good boy,” you provoke. “Unless you can convince me otherwise, he is getting me first…”

Anthony scowls, not used to being second at anything, rocking impatiently on his toes, his bound hands limp in front of him. 

Benedict whines as you release your grip, moving to push his jeans down. They pool around his ankles, and you nod approvingly when he steps out of them. You spider a hand up under his t-shirt, walking each fingertip over the light swell of each abdominal muscle, him staring down at your lips, his glistening, eagerly awaiting another kiss. Instead you demand his wrists that he presents to you so sweetly. You unhook the metal clasp between them.

“Arms up,” you murmur, so pleased when he instantly obeys. 

You have to push onto tiptoe to get his t-shirt up over his head, but he assists you, stripping the last of it and tossing it aside so he stands before you completely naked. He is all lithe ropey muscles and pale skin, his chest rising and falling a little rapidly, his cock standing proud. He brings his arms back down, and you re-hook the clasp on the cuffs as he shoots you that soulful look through his lashes.

“Such a lovely boy,” you whisper, grabbing him again for just one pump before ordering him to sit again.

He whimpers but obeys, bound wrists resting on his lap as you turn your attention to Anthony. You take two steps, so you are standing before him, envy seeping through his pores. You lean in to run your tongue in a teasing stripe over his cheek, loving the slight drag of stubble as you do. 

“You are so handsome when you’re jealous,” you needle, unable to resist poking this bear, something about his struggle to fully submit makes it even more delicious. “Don't even try to deny it,” you add quickly when Anthony goes to open his mouth, and he snaps his jaw shut, mollified. “Let's see what treat you have in store for me….” you dusk as your hand drops to his groin.

You don't kiss him as you pull down his zipper, just gently teeth his earlobe. His bound hands flex against your belly, struggling not to touch your naked skin as he is forbidden to do.

“Nothing is sexier than a beautiful, powerful man at my mercy,” you murmur as your hand slides between his fly, encountering his boxer briefs, the hot swell of his cock straining against them. “And, my sweet prince, they don't come much more powerful or beautiful than you…”

He seems to bloom at your compliment, a stuttering exhale into your hair as he meekly requests a kiss. You allow it, pulling him in for a fiery kiss as you assist him in pushing down his jeans. He groans loudly into your mouth as you slide your fingers into his underwear and grab his cock, pumping him slowly as you pull apart.

“You are the beautiful one, my goddess,” he stutters with blown pupils as you squeeze him gently.

“Oh, now you are getting it,” you smile triumphantly, releasing him to shove his underwear down his muscular, fuzzy thighs, then unhooking his wrists to strip him of his shirt until he is naked too.

You pull him in for another biting kiss, your fingertips running up his chest into the thatch of dark hair there, scratching lightly on his pectorals as he whimpers over your tongue.

“Take a seat, my sweet prince,” you counsel, as you break apart, nodding for him to resume his place.

Reluctantly, Anthony does as bidden, shooting you a puppy dog look, his cock bobbing as he takes a seat.

“Now, my darling boys, don't forget you cannot touch yourselves…” you remind, looking at each of them in turn.

They nod as you take a seat on the coffee table between them. Their attention is undivided as you slowly open your legs out wide, your knees almost touching each of theirs, knowing they cannot resist the sight. Your underwear’s slit reveals just enough to have them licking their lips, something so illicit about the peek rather than being able to see everything. You make a show of swirling your fingertips over your inner thighs, their heavy gaze tracking every motion as you inch closer.

They both make a hungry noise as your fingers swirl over your pussy lips and you throw your head back and moan, a little theatricality never hurts. You arch your spine, your other hand sliding over the glass table behind you to brace yourself as you play with yourself. Even with your eyes closed, head tilted back to show the lines of your body, you can sense their salivation, how they both lean in. When your pointer finger slides over your clit you groan loudly and tilt your head back down to see an erotic sight. Both sets of eyes boring into you, barely contained lust as they both fight the urge not to touch themselves.

“You truly are a goddess,” Benedict opines huskily, likely a tactic to curry favour, but one you don’t mind in the slightest.

“And don't you forget it,” you shoot back before plunging a middle finger into your pussy and sliding backwards to lay on the coffee table, hooking your feet up onto the corners of the table, legs splayed wide. You bring your other hand to rub your clit as you ride your fingers, inserting a second now, pumping slowly.

You don’t need to see them to know what sweet torture this is for them, the scent of your arousal no doubt swirling thick in the air as they watch, powerless to do anything about their hard, leaking cocks unless you bid it so. The slick sound filling the air as you ride your fingers, coating your hand with your arousal, the only other sound their panted breaths.

“May I touch your foot, goddess?” Anthony implores, a new deference to his tone that has you tilting your head up.

He is leaning forward, his bound hands hovering above his knee, not far from your toes curled over the glass edge of the coffee table.

“You may,” you concede. “Only my foot for now,” you add sternly.

Warm hands cup your foot, massaging your skin insistently in a way that has you emitting a light stutter of pleasure, somehow easing the ache from a day on your feet with just a few well-placed fingers. Murmuring encouragements as he draws your foot into his lap, massaging in a way that has you languid, your fingers slowing.

“May I do the same, goddess?” Benedict’s bashful question has your head swinging to him.

“Yes my lovely boy,” you allow, revelling in the look of excitement as he too grabs your other foot. He cups your heel in his bound hands and lowers his head to kiss the tendons atop before flexing your ankle to place a gentle kiss onto your arch that is almost ticklish. No one has kissed your feet before but it is oddly fitting for a night where they are in your command.

Also, something about their tender treatment as you slowly fuck yourself with your own fingers is such an exquisite contrast. Anthony groans his approval as you slide a third finger into your pussy. Not as good as their cocks, obviously, but the perfect hors-d'œuvre. You emit a louder moan as Benedict opens his mouth wider, lathing his tongue then gently biting the underside of your foot, his eyes glued between your legs.

Anthony's hands stray up onto your calf, and you snatch your leg away, placing it upon the round of his shoulder as Benedict chuckles and kisses the tip of your other big toe.

“Nuh uh,” you cluck, stilling your hands and pushing Anthony with your heel.

“Please….” He sounds wrecked as he falls backwards and you glance down to see his rigid cock weeping slightly in his lap.

You decide to take pity upon him a little, shooting Benedict a look that has him releasing your foot obediently. They both pout as you withdraw your fingers from within yourself and sit up.

“Move closer,” you gesture with your hands for them to shuffle closer. 

When they settle a couple of feet apart, you stand up, both of their heads tilting to gaze up as you tower over them - a bloom of joy that they do so without you even having to ask. 

You bring your wet fingers up to both of their handsome faces and trail your juices over their lips. Both of their tongues dart out immediately to lick the essence, groaning deeply, wrapping their lips around your tips and sucking covetously, as if a life-giving nectar you are bestowing upon them. 

For a few beats, you bask in the wet pull of their mouths, suctioning you clean, drawing your fingers deeper into their heat, both of their tongues lapping enthusiastically. You reluctantly withdraw from their mouths, quickly reaching behind to unhook your bra, tossing it aside and painting their saliva over your nipples as they groan gently at the sight.

“My beautiful boys….” you exhale, tweaking your nipples as you stare down at them, bound and rapt by the sight of you.

“Please let us touch you some more…” Benedict appeals besottedly, his hazy eyes blown wide, his lips dark pink from sucking your fingers.

“We will do anything…” Anthony chimes in breathily, his face slack with complete submission, a spike of want racing down your spine that he is now pliant.

Spinning around, you turn your back to them, their breaths huffing onto the dip of your waist before lowering yourself slowly to sit between them. Intentionally slowly, you hook your legs over each of their thighs, hard muscle under your skin as you turn your head first to Anthony and pull him into a deep kiss as your hand slides down Benedict’s torso to grasp his cock and he practically howls.

You pump Benedict gently as your tongue parries with Anthony’s, both of their cuffed hands limp in their laps.

You swap, swinging your head to draw Benedict into your mouth, abandoning his cock, that hand instead curling around his jaw as your other slides down to grasp Anthony and pump him too.

“I could tease you boys all night…” You lilt over Benedict's cupid's bow as you pull back, him chasing your lips as you do so.

“Have mercy…” Anthony gasps as you squeeze his cock near the base, loving its heat and girth trapped within your palm, the trickle that coats your knuckles as your fist raises to encase his tip.

“Maybe…” you tease, curling your foot around his calf where you have your leg draped over his thigh, “if you ask nicely….” you add, drawing his brother into another kiss, just to test Anthony’s resolve a little more. 

“Please, goddess,” he appeals deferentially, but with a thread of desperation that has you break from Benedict’s lips.

Releasing Anthony’s cock, you undrape your thighs from over theirs and grab the clasp on their leather cuffs. You guide their hands to your hips, hooking their fingers into the side of your lace underwear and nodding for them to pull it down.

Goosebumps break out over your body as they slowly tug down the material over the flare of your hips, their fingertips sliding over your skin intentionally slow—a little payback for the tease you have made them endure. Anthony lightly scrapes his blunt nails down your outer thigh, but you let him, as it just adds to your arousal. 

Completely naked now, you use your foot to fling the underwear across the room, which they huff, amused, both falling back into the cushions, bracketing you with their muscular torsos, looking at you expectantly. Their stares are hungry, barely contained lust now that you are as naked as them.

“You may kiss my neck…” 

You can barely get the offer out before two sets of lips suction onto the tender spot under your earlobes, a lushness that has you gasping and grabbing their muscular thighs, your eyes fluttering closed.

Their dual groan is like music to your ears, their tongues more insistent, sliding lower to your collarbone, which you don't fight, too drunk on both of their mouths upon you, a heavy tug low in your pelvis.

“May we….” Benedict begins, and you just nod sharply, biting your lip as you wrap your arms around the back of their necks, pushing up, your hips lifting off the cushion, encouraging them to slide lower.

Your moan echoes around your high warehouse ceiling as they capture both of your breasts in their mouths, tugging gently with a slight bite of their teeth, their need telegraphed by their tongues lapping hard, teasing your nipples into stiff peaks. Your hands spider upwards and grab both cocks at once making them stutter, their mouths going slack on your chest.

“I should have made you both wear cock rings,” you attest, beguiled by the sudden mental flash of them struggling in cuffs and rings, leaking, thighs trembling.

“Happily my goddess,” Benedict breathes, moving to claim a kiss without permission.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” you admonish over his lips, and he freezes. 

“Please forgive me…” he stumbles, hanging his head even as you keep palming his cock.

“I will this time,” you offer conciliatorily, nuzzling his face until he tilts his chin upwards, his contrite expression filling your field of vision. “But, my lovely boy, I will need you to pay penance.”

“What do you need, my goddess?” he blinks, his lashes batting so alluringly, biting his lip as you squeeze his cock in your fist.

“You may touch yourself,” you allow, guiding his cuffed wrists to replace yours.

“How is that penance?” he asks, his brow knitting adorably as you remove your hand, guiding his into its stead.

“You will have to watch quietly as I fuck your brother...” 

Benedict’s face is a kaleidoscope; you can see the envy, the desire, the defeat and the acceptance. Anthony making a victorious noise next to you, his cock pulsing in your other hand that now goes slack. 

“...first,” you add belatedly, seeing Benedict light up again, settling back into the sectional corner with a coy nod of acceptance.

You twist around and swing over into Anthony's lap, pulling him into a kiss that is instantly intense, excitement rippling in his muscular form under you.

“There are rules, though, my sweet prince,” you sigh over his lips, guiding his hands behind his head.

“You may not move your hands from there,” you warn as he cups the back of his own skull.

He pouts fractionally but that morphs into a picture of euphoria as you shuffle forwards in his lap, running your glistening slit over his tip.

“Can you feel that?” you murmur, his nod so enthused that a lock of hair flops over onto his forehead.

You reach and twirl the strand between your fingers as you keep teasing him with your damp heat, rocking your engorged clit against his frenulum. 

“Beg for it,” you command gently, hooking your other thumb tip into the corner of his mouth.

“Please, my goddess, take me. Please do not tease me anymore.”

Anthony sounds so pretty as he fights the instinct to take over, to throw you down onto the sofa and take you roughly as he does so well when he is the one in charge.

“I have the right to tease you all night, sweet prince,” you caution. “I could just edge you for hours until you are a trembling wreck.”

“Yes…” he concedes. “But please do not…” His brown eyes shine as he beseeches in such a demure way that it makes you suddenly desperate for him.

A melodic noise escapes his lips as you tilt your pelvis and sink a fraction onto his steely cock. This is the first time you have gone without a condom with him since you started this dynamic, and the sensation is almost overwhelming. This was agreed in advance of your play tonight, but still, the reality of it is so intense. Your eyes meet as you sink slowly, the leather cuffs creaking as his hands flex behind his head. You pull him in for another kiss as you are fully seated, held open in that way that makes your eyes want to roll - no one else you’ve been with seems able to do this quite as well as these Bridgerton brothers do.

“My goddess…” he whispers back, face devoted.

“I will never tire of you calling me that,” you sigh, almost rhetorical, turning sideways to look at Benedict. “Both of you,” you add for his benefit as he smiles crooked but modestly, his bound hands wrapped loosely around his cock.

Maintaining eye contact with Benedict as you rise up and back down on Anthony, who moans so prettily under you. Having the rapt attention of one as you fuck the other is something else you could never tire of.

“My beautiful boys,” you exhale indulgently, bringing your attention back to the Viscount, looping your hands through the crook in Anthony’s arms to grab the top of his shoulders.

Arching your back slightly, you begin to ride upon him. You pull up and sink onto his mass, biting your lip about and closing your eyes how good it already feels. His gaze falls to your breasts, his warm breath panting across your sternum. You know he is fighting the urge to tilt forward, capture them in his mouth as you rise. But he is aware he cannot do so without your permission; the twitch in his thighs between yours as you set a pace. Tilting your chin down, you soothingly request he look at you, and sweetly he does. Raising those ardent brown eyes to yours, so much conveyed without words.

“My sweet prince, you are doing so well for me,” you whisper, squeezing your pussy tight around him. 

He groans loudly, the leather of his cuffs rasping again, a flex in his bicep that betrays their latent power.

“You feel divine…” he utters, thick and low.

“As I should, for I am your goddess,” you return with a hint of sass, raising an eyebrow as you begin a faster pace, moving your grip to the back of his head, placing your hands over his bound wrists as if to emphasise your point.

He is passive as you ride harder, a slight burn in your thighs as he whimpers under you, gaze roaming your body as you undulate upon him, a heat notching up your spine as your pussy swells from that repeated delightful friction, a slight burn in your thighs as you just cant stop riding him, chasing bliss.

“I won't last,” Anthony gasps in warning, rueful almost.

“That’s okay my sweet prince, come for me,” you goad, riding harder, glancing over to Benedict as if reminding him he is next.

“I need you to come too,” Anthony pants, eyes wild, hands flexing in his cuffs as if he cannot bear the idea of you not getting your pleasure too.

“I will,” you assure, winking then releasing your right hand from its grip around his wrists to fall between your splayed thighs, not stopping your rhythm as you fingers slide over your swollen clit.

His stare tracks your hand then he curses, head flopping back, thighs clenching, bearing his teeth as his face contorts, so close to release.

“Give it to me, sweet prince,” you pant into his ear, your fingers a rapid tattoo against your swollen pearl.

That is what breaks him. His whole body goes stiff and there is a gargled noise in the back of his throat then a pulse that runs up his length inside you just as you crest a similar wave. It is what pulls you over too, calling out as you shatter around him, pussy fluttering around his spurting cock, milking him of his cum, dripping down your walls as you slump onto him, wracked breaths, your mind floating blissfully above.

“Please untie me,” he begs quietly as you both return to the room. 

You reach behind him and unhook his arms, unfastening the cuffs as he slips from inside you. You rub his pinkened wrists gently, even as you glance over to Benedict, intuiting his impatience for his turn. 

“Help me to your brother,” you entreat Anthony.

Tenderly, he assists you to your feet, your legs wobbly from exertion, uncertain whether you will be able to do the same again, despite a burning desire to. You cling to him as you take the few paces to Benedict, who raises his bound hands from his cock as you climb into his lap and snuggle into him, still in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“Surely a goddess deserves some rest,” he murmurs in your ear, able to read your tiredness. “If it is acceptable, perhaps you can lie down and be worshipped in the way you deserve….”

His lilting, velvet words have you nodding enthused, a ripple of excitement at the idea that you will receive pleasure. Benedict gives a nod to his elder brother, who is now pulling on his underwear, his hands being free. Without a seeming word exchanged, Anthony assists, rearranging your body so that your hips are at the edge of the sectional chaise. Then he places a cushion in his lap and lays your head upon it, his hand soothingly massaging your scalp. 

You stare down the plane of your body, watching Benedict slowly kneels between splayed legs, impressed with his balance, seeing as his wrists are still bound. You keen softly as he rubs his cock over your swollen pearl, the cuffs creaking as he does so.

“Do not tease your goddess,” you chide but it has zero heat, for he chuckles and demurely looks at you through his lashes.

“You wish is my command…” he rumbles, a touch cheekily, before he lines himself up and ploughs deep into your swollen pussy, in a way that has your toes curling. It’s the first time you have felt his unsheathed cock too, and it also steals your breath, so much heated mass pressing into your walls.

“Yesssss, that’s it, my lovely boy,” you commend, reaching for his bound hands pressing low on your belly.

You lace your fingers with his and nod for him to move, Anthony leaning down to capture your lips as Benedict withdraws and snaps back into you. Your cry is muffled around Anthony’s questing tongue.

“You will make him jealous if you get so many more kisses tonight, my sweet prince,” you warn quietly over his lips.

Anthony’s smile is handsomely devilish. “Then he should have gone first,” he sasses, then schools his face. “My goddess…” he belatedly adds.

“You always do fight being a good sub for me,” you snark over a moan as Benedict begins to set a pace. “I think your brother is so much better at it than you. In fact, maybe he gets a privilege you didn’t….”

You just love to provoke the proverbial beast in Anthony, especially on nights where he must do your bidding. 

“Be still, my lovely,” you decree and instantly Benedict freezes, holding still buried to the hilt within you. “Good boy,” you flatter, reaching for his wrists and unclipping the hook between them.

“You may touch me anywhere you wish,” you offer, throwing a side-eye to Anthony.

“Thank you my goddess,” Benedict inhales sharply, blooming beautifully at the privilege you have bestowed.

Given the greenlight, his fingertips instantly sweep up over your ribs to your nipples, teasing them expertly as he begins to move again. Your feet curling up off the floor to nudge his shapely bum, encouraging the snap of his hips driving into your, your whole body rolling with his athletic thrusts.  

“Kiss me, lovely boy,” you call out, watching Anthony’s face above you cloud with envy as his younger brother’s face hovers into view, his lips meeting your and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

“Thank you for letting me touch you, my goddess,” he lauds, nuzzling your cheek, smiling with boyish enthusiasm. 

“Of course, my lovely boy, now earn your privilege,” you challenge, your fingers dancing down the lithe musculature of his back, running your lips over to his ear, “make me come again.”

And, good boy that he is, he does as commanded. As you lay back and enjoy the sensations coursing through you, he grabs your hips, pulling you down onto his driving cock, you moaning with each thrust as he pushes you open, his cock feeling huge inside your swollen soaked channel.

Your eyes drift to Anthony’s again over Benedict’s shoulder, “May I have your hand, my goddess?” 

As soon as you nod, Anthony grabs your hand, the one you had made yourself come with when fucking him, and brings it to his lips. He sucks the fingers clean, his stare boring into you, a fiery challenge glinting despite him obeying your rules.

To have both of their undivided attention rockets you so fast. Anthony’s strong tongue swiping and suckling your fingers deep into his hot mouth, Benedict’s hands clamped around your waist, the leather of his cuffs tickling your skin, his sizeable cock boring into you with remarkable, athletic alacrity.

“I’m close…” you rasp, that telltale quiver deep in your belly, not needing much to take you over the edge for a second time.

“Wait for me goddess, please,” Benedict petitions, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow above you.

“You fuck me so well, my lovely boy,” you praise, knowing word of affirmation are such a catalyst for him, running your free hand over his cheek, caressing his jaw, then pinching his chin in a tighter hold. “Now give me your all, don’t hold back, I need to feel it.”

Benedict’s nostrils flare and he nods decisively, always eager to follow ample instruction. His thrusts become almost punishing, his slender hip bones snagging your inner thighs as he notches you higher, each time crushing into your engorged clit, grunting with the exertion now. You pull him down onto you, loving the feel of his heated flushed skin over yours, whisper praises into his ear. All as you stare Anthony down, your fingers still in his mouth, him gently scraping his teeth over your knuckles, knowing a slight roughness will help you over the edge.

As your fingers fall from his mouth, Anthony’s hand reaches down and pinches the nipple closest to him. It has you yelling out, your body arching off the sofa at that rough spike of sensation, propelled into Benedict’s torso just as you start to clench around his cock, coming for a second time. That wondrous sensation fanning out from inside to inflame your whole being, dimly aware his thrusts become erratic and then he stills, speared deep as he too reached his peak. You feel the warmth of him spread inside as you float back down into your body.

“Thank you my sweet boys,” you slur, as Benedict withdraws and Anthony bends down to kiss your forehead, this second orgasm making you drowsy.

“You are welcome, goddess,” they both seem to chime in unison.

A few moments later and you have removed Benedicts leather cuffs and the three of you share a lazy intimacy, your head still in Anthony’s lap as Benedict curls around you on the wide chaise, resting his cheek on your belly.

“You, particularly, did so well,” you smile up at Anthony as your fingers card through Benedict’s hair.

“I don’t mind being your sweet prince… on occasion,” he confesses. “Just as long as you will be my baby girl just as often.”

“Of course, sir,” you wink up at him, that infectious, breathtakingly handsome smile inhabiting his stubbled face.

Benedict chuckles from his perch on your tummy, twisting to kiss the dewy skin above your belly button.  “Are you sure both of us aren't too much, kitten?” he goads, even though he already knows the answer.

“I did a good job of making you both do my bidding tonight, didn't I?” you point out, and he concedes that you did indeed with just a humourous shrug. “And besides, something too good could never be too much,” you wink to him.

Something about the moment feels decisive, so you decide to declare yourself.

“We are only just getting started with this adventure, boys” you state boldly. “Well, that is, as long as Eloise is away…” You modify, knowing this sort of thing is only possible when your flatmate, and indeed their little sister, is away, as she is now.

“I’m going to buy her a bloody flat,” Anthony growls decisively, his hand scooping behind your head and hauling you up to meet his lips. “This place is yours alone now, baby girl…”

Well, you're not going to argue with that.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaani @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @fern-reads @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282

[silens-oro]

Trespassing (Well Enough Alone Companion Piece 2.5)

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

General Synopsis: Hawk and J have a brief heart to heart after he's placed in Smurfs home. Word Count: 721 Content Warning: typical Animal Kingdom warnings AN: this isn't the companion piece I intended to post this week, and it is more of a drabble than anything, but it was burning a hole in my drafts and needed to be posted. enjoy~ please comment & reblog :)

“Walk me to my car, J,” Hawk held Smurf’s smug attention for a solid five seconds, completely ignoring Pope’s piercing eyes next to her, and walked through the house with J trailing behind her. Once they made it outside to the driveway, without listening ears surrounding them, Hawk turned and pulled J into a crushing hug. His arms immediately wrapped around her shoulders and his heart broke when he felt her unsteady breathing.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t-” He tried to soften the blow. Hawk was the strongest person he knew so to see her facade start to crumble? It was foreign territory for J. 

“I’m so sorry, J.” Hawk pulled away, wiping under her eyes. “This is the last place I would ever want you to be.”

“They know you. This whole time you’ve known them.” J didn’t want to sound accusatory, but the way they spoke down to and about Hawk as if she wasn’t in the same room as them made anger simmer under his skin. The way they spoke about Julia before Hawk showed up with Pope was even worse -it was dismissive, like his mom was just a fleeting thought lost to the wind. 

J remembered seeing their faces over the years when he was at Hawk’s shop or at home. She was always irritated when they made their unannounced arrivals, and she always sent him to another room or her office when they showed up. Neither side ever put the pieces together until the day J moved into Smurf’s home. 

J wasn’t angry with her -he couldn’t be. Hawk didn’t have a single nefarious bone in her body and everything she did, she did with purpose. That’s how she raised him. He knew everything she did was to protect him from these people and now that he knew the other side of things she was dealing with, he swore to himself that he’d do everything he could to return the favor.

“Most of my life, yeah. That’s why I’ve shielded you for as long as I could. Everything and everyone that comes in and out of that house turns to rot, J. They never had a chance, but you have a future -one that you’ve worked so incredibly hard for. Do not let them poison you. I can’t…” Hawk took a deep breath, eyes trailing behind J to the big bay window in front of the house. Pope was watching with pinched brows and a firm frown. “There isn’t much I can do other than tell you our house is still our house, J. Yours and mine. That will always be ours. I don’t give a shit what Smurf has to say, and will say. I will always be in your corner, do you understand me?” J nodded and let Hawk pull him into another hug. “I mean it, J. If anything happens you call me. You get to the house. You do whatever you need to. I don’t care what time of day or night it is.” She whispered into his ear. Hawk pulled back and gently held J’s face in her hands.

“I don’t want to be here.” He whispered back. “And I don’t want that psycho in the house with you. Has he treated you alright?”

“I know. I don’t want you here either, but this is what’s been dealt. Don’t rock the boat, alright? Those assholes are volatile on their best days and you’re fresh meat to them. All they’re looking for is to see what you’ll tolerate. Nip it in the bud quickly and things should settle down relatively soon. Just don’t…don’t let them talk you into doing anything stupid. I’m stressed enough without you home as it is.” 

“And Pope?” Hawk’s eyes went back to the window where Pope was still watching them, then shifted them back to J.

“I can handle Pope. Don’t worry about me, okay? I know these people like the back of my hand.”

“J, sweetheart,” Smurf called from the front door. He turned to look at her and Hawk dropped her arms to her sides. “Come inside, baby. We’re about to have lunch.” Smurf’s eyes were pinpointed on Hawk and she felt their immediate effect -you’re trespassing. 

“Remember what I said, J.” He turned back to Hawk, his hazel eyes full of uncertainty as he nodded and started walking back to Smurf. 

please comment & reblog :)

[the-gilded]

Hi everyone, here's a bit of a life/progress update for everyone following. I wish I had more to share right now, but I hope there will be more coming soon.

I've posted several times that Chapter 2 is coming soon, and I really have wanted that to be true, but I haven't quite been able to bring myself to finish it. I did recently manage to finish drawing new official art for each of the ROs, so here's a little preview of that (sorry, I wish I was better at drawing consistently):

Also, if you want to hang out and/or watch me talk about games I love, you can find me live on Twitch sometimes:

http://www.twitch.tv/faedrian_

Further explanation/vent/plans below:

As far as why I haven't managed to finish writing Chapter 2, it's just because my life has been sliding downhill for a pretty long time now, and it's hard to find the motivation to write anything nice when I feel this bad.

I guess I noticed things getting worse last year, after I caught Covid in February. I was sick for about a month, got really depressed, lost a lot of weight, developed new complications with my endometriosis and my eating disorder got a lot worse. Around the same time, I realized that my relationship was beginning to fall apart. I've been with my partner for ten years, and it hasn't always been stable, but I've fought hard to keep us going together even when things got rocky. Last year, they decided that they needed to start cutting stress out of their life. That led to them breaking up with me twice - both times, I begged them to stay and keep working on our relationship. I was terrified by the possibility that they could just end our relationship and take my whole life away from me, forcing me to leave my home and lose everything I've built especially when I was at such a low point already.

A few weeks ago, they decided to break up with me again, and right now it's looking like it's for real this time - they signed a lease with some friends the day after breaking up with me, and decided that they would just leave me to fend for myself so that they wouldn't be burdened with the "responsibility" of caring for me any longer.

So, I'm currently facing down the reality that I will likely have to give up the whole life I've built up over the last seven years of us living together. I don't have anywhere to live here - all my friends and family are hours or even days away by car. I was in the middle of searching for a new job when the breakup happened this time, but now I guess I can't really take a job here if I'm going to have to move away. I can't afford to live on my own even with the new jobs I was applying for, and I wouldn't feel safe by myself either. I've always lived with my family or with my partner. I may be moving across the country in the next two months - going Northwest to live with some friends that offered to find a place together, and my best friend lovingly offered to pay my moving expenses. I have no money in the bank (in fact my account is overdrawn as I type this), so this is all very stressful right now. I'm hopeful that I'll find a way to work things out, to get myself settled, and to find the will to be productive with my games again.

As far as plans go:

I've been making plans to start up a Patreon and Discord once I have at least a couple months of content backlogged - it would include Beta reading access for The Gilded and my other game jam projects, BTS previews of some other, larger projects I'm drafting, monthly SFW and NSFW sketches and short stories as voted by the Patrons, and eventually a tier to get your OC written into The Gilded. If that's of any interest to you, let me know! I think it would be really good for me to see people engaging with my content again, and I could honestly use the motivation.

Thank you for reading this far, and thank you for following as long as you have. I still love and intend to finish this project, I just need to get through this dark place to find the light on the other side. 💜

[psycheetamore]

A little background on Crash and Conquer

On 2 March @houserautha wrote a blog that got to me, hard. On how she felt the Feyd Fandom was winding down to fall asleep. How she was struggling with getting interaction - a form of communication that is absolutely key in keeping a fandom alive, having works be created. In the end, it is all about creating that collective head canon, and you cannot do that by yourself. It is a collective and collaborative effort.

Her blog resonated. And I was like: fuck no, and fuck yes!

So, we came to our joint idea of pushing initiatives to put some fire back into our collective love for this fine and feral gentleman.

A week and a day later, we posted our first chapter of Crash and Conquer!

Now, we have started working already on chapter 8!

And I can't help but feel proud, proud of how our little group of creative bloggers comes together every week to create something that is not there yet. How we work together, not knowing each others names, not speaking, not even knowing which countries we all come from. All volunteers, all communicating through google docs, discord and tumblr. Yet, here we are, making something together, each and every one committed to a result. Joint in our feralness for Feyd.

None of the 7 chapters has been written by just one person: at least 2, more often 3 and in some situations even 6 (!) people have written. We work jointly, and I am getting 100% amazing positive vibes. Everybody is so positive, communicates on availability, tries to help even if there is not much time in a busy offline life. And, as a group, we have managed to publish something every Monday evening (CET) over the last 7 weeks. That is like... some serious volunteer shit, I can tell you from experience. That is amazing stuff!

Another thing I cannot help but see, is how I have the feeling our fandom is getting more alive. More interactive. More creative. I am seeing so many great stories being prepared. People getting recognition. Many shares, many comments.

Is it our doing? I don't know, but I know we will in any case not have hindered it.

So thank you, my dearest fellow Project Feyd-Rautha Fandom Fangirls (mfx) - @houserautha @psycheetamore @seraphicsage @austinbutlerslovers @mystra-midnight @peageetibbs-ab @sandwormrp

[risingsunresistance]

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[front-facing-pokemon]

[korattata]

I have been. Very anxious about my puppy's mortality tbh but today when talking to the vet she said she'd recommend getting her blood rechecked in 3 months...

3 whole months... She really thinks she's gonna live 3 more months... In 4 months she'll be 17... Cookie..........

(Obligatory old baby photos)

[nexility-sims]

🌷

[jutsuuu]

girl help I’m experiencing

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[things-i-send-to-my-darling-bf]

Hello, followers.

In front of you is a masterpost made by my husband, it was weeks of work and organising alongside a huge effort and determination to assist Argentinian artists.

You have one button to press, if you choose to press it you can stay but if you refrain i will slowly start filling the room with gas blocking you all.

You understand that i do not need to let you stay here as this was never a space for you.

I am so proud of him and the efforts he has put in and it takes only a moment for you to spread that, this is not only for him but an entire group of artists and creatives who deserve recognition and visibility. I know you see the post, i get notes as you scroll through liking posts meant to be shared with my husband.

You have 48 hours or until i get annoyed enough.

[musicalmoritz]

I want to make it very clear that I do not have writers block, the only reason I haven’t finished that Aoinene fic yet is bcuz I’m lazy af. And because my sister keeps asking to hang out every time I sit down to work on it and I can’t break the sacred bond of sibling time🍎

[readymades2002]

trying to do some financial math for if i move out and getting sick to my stomach