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bbyquokka · 1 year ago

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panties

– in which changbin accidentally wears yns panties and doesn't hate it !!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | seo changbin x gender-neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐂𝐖 | panty wearing ; light sub themes ; dom-turned-sub changbin ; dirty thoughts ; masturbation (m) ; nipple play ; a toy mentioned (strap-on)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 2.2k ~ ( 2,226 )

𝐀/𝐍 | ik its been a while since i posted :( pls accept this fic as an apology, hehe. wrote this a while ago & haven't stopped thinking about it since! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

it wasn't supposed to be like this. heck, he didn't plan on it ending up like this.

to him, it was a simple, innocent action that he didn't think twice of purely because he was in a rush this morning. he woke up late, time being against him. he barely felt clean from his shower because he was in a rush.

he was going to be late for work and his boss hates it when people are late. yet, there he was, standing in front of the open underwear drawer as he searched for a pair of his boxer shorts.

sweat coating his brow. his mood dipping and slowly becoming annoyed with himself. his hands fumbled as they brush up upon many textures of fabric. when he failed to find a single pair of underwear, he rushed to the wash basket to see that it was still full to the brim with unwashed clothing and sitting at the very top, as if to torment him in some cruel way, were his last pair of underwear.

ah, that's right. he promised to do the laundry yesterday but it slipped his mind. maybe because he was so busy indulging in you last night and now he has to face the consequences of his greed.

“fucking shit. fuck fuck fuck!” he looked at his watch. the minutes ticking by fast. now was not the time to feel sorry for himself!

changbin thought about going commando. no one would know, right? but the thought of spending a full day in jeans with no extra layer of protection for his groin made him feel oddly itchy and uncomfortable. he dropped his towel, put on a clean tee and grabbed the first underwear his hand came into contact with – which were yours.

he didn't think much of it. he didn't even notice to be honest. he did feel a little uncomfortable and tight but he thought nothing of it and continued on with his day; until he got home, stripped and saw pastel pink panties with a dainty bow and frilly waistband hanging on his frame; leading him into his current situation.

“oh fuck.” he mumbles to himself. “oh fuck fuck.” he stares at himself in the full length mirror that's leaning against the bedroom wall. he swallows thickly as his eyes flicker around the panties.

they are yours. they are your favourite pair of panties and he is wearing them! the amount of times he sees you prancing around in this specific pair is uncountable. he can't count on his fingers the amount of times he has got hard over them, yet here he is, naked with nothing but the tight fabric on him.

he panics at first. sheer embarrassment and humiliation washing over him. “i must have accidentally grabbed them this morning.” he whispers to himself. his ears perk up as he listens for you only to be met with a soft hum and pots and pans clanking around in the kitchen.

he bites his bottom lip and slowly walks closer to his reflection like he is in some sort of horror movie and his reflection could jump out at him at any moment.

the closer he gets, the more he holds his breath. once close enough does he really soak it all in.

the pastel pink contrasting well with his tanned and dewy skin. the material hugging his ass and penis, accentuating the outline of his curves. his cheeks flush red as he can make out his assets. the dainty bow and frills adding just that little bit extra.

now with a closer look at himself, he strangely doesn't hate it. he feels pretty, sexy, but pretty. he turns his back to the mirror, looking over his shoulder and eyes widening at how plump and plush his ass looks.

“oh fuck.” he repeats. “this is bad.” he presses his lips in a thin line, facing full front in the mirror again. he traces his index finger down his torso and chest, following it in the reflection of the mirror. he stops at the waistband and gingerly traces the outline slowly.

it feels rough. not as soft compared to the rest of the fabric. he flicks the little bow and watches it bounce slightly. even though it feels tight and a little suffocating, it feels oddly comfortable and lewd.

he lets his finger brush over the frilly waistband and onto the soft fabric. it feels velvety and smooth. he reaches behind him, tracing the outline of his ass and giving it a small squeeze.

he moans. it's a small moan, a silent moan but it's a moan and it makes changbin feel shocked at himself. he chews the inside of his cheek as he squeezes his own ass again. testing the waters and seeing if he has the same reaction, to which he does.

“oh fuck.” the same two words seem to be the only words he is capable of speaking right now. he looks down at his groin and sees his semi suffocating and stretching the material of your panties.

up until now, he hasn't noticed that the pit of his stomach feels warm and fluttery. his penis throbs which he very clearly sees and it makes him blush. his nipples perk up a little bit and he dares to touch himself.

“maybe just a small touch.” he mumbles. he slides his hand to his clothed semi where he traces the outline slowly. he chews his bottom lip gently and hums softly.

the material feels hot and is radiating heat from his penis. he swallows thickly as he cups his balls and squeezes them ever so gently. he squeezes and tenses his thighs before huffing.

“why does it feel so good?” he questions. he's not doing much, just teasing himself but it's the thought.

he drops to his knees in front of the mirror and parts then slightly. his hand removes itself from his balls and cups his growing semi. he gives himself a few gentle squeezes, head kicking and rolling back as his eyelids flutter close.

he increases the strength of the squeezing before rubbing his palm along his penis. he feels himself grow fully hard and throb. he rubs his cock head slowly but a little roughly as his free hand comes up and plays with his pink and perky nipples.

it's wrong. it's so wrong of him to do this. he knows that. he's also aware that you could come through the bedroom door at any minute and see him in such a lewd position but he doesn't care.

maybe it's because of the surging lust in his veins that he wants you to see him like this. his cheeks all red, curls flopping over his hazy eyes and bottom lip swollen.

his fingers circle his nipples before he tugs on them gently. he feels a growing wet patch against his palm to which he ignores and rubs his palm faster against his head.

“oh fuck.. yes, just like that.” he whispers to himself. he tries to keep the moaning to a minimum or at least be quiet but with each passing second, his body burns.

his penis fully erect and leaking. the material stretching and hugging him tightly to the point of suffocation. cock and balls throb, thighs tensing as his body jolts with each surge of pleasure that courses through him.

“m-mhm!!” he looks at himself once again in the mirror and whimpers. the man in front of him is unrecognizable to him. he's so used to seeing himself as a strong, dominate man so seeing himself act and behave how you act, as a sub, all whiny, teary and lewd flicks a switch inside him that he didn't think he had.

he doesn't understand anything any more. he doesn't understand why he is thinking and feeling a certain way. one thing he is sure of though, is that his body is burning hot and he is filled to the brim with lust that it hurts.

he's far too gone to stop or think about that right now. he doesn't hate it and wants more. palming and rubbing himself through panties can only provide so much for so long so he takes it a step further.

his hand dips under the waistband and disappears underneath the fabric. he's met with his hot and throbbing penis. he groans as he wraps his hand around the base and squeezes himself hard. he looks down and grunts at the sight of his red and pre-cum leaking cock head appearing from under the waistband and being pressed flat against his soft tummy.

he gathers some saliva in his mouth before letting it fall onto his tip. his hand glides up his hot shaft for his thumb to smear the saliva and pre-cum around his sensitive head.

he pushes his curls away from his eyes as he slowly strokes himself. the bumps and ridges of his veiny cock bumping against the palm of his hand. his tip continues to leak and spill as he throbs over and over again.

he bucks his hips and tenses his thighs as if he were fucking you doggy style. he closes his eyes and imagines one hand buried into your hair and the other on your hip as he's buried deep inside you. he imagines the warmth and your scent as well as the sounds you make for him.

but then his imagination drifts and all of a sudden, he imagines himself in doggy and you fucking him from behind. he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as an attempt to ease it from his memory like an etch a sketch but to no avail; so he welcomes it instead.

he swallows as he imagines himself on all fours in front of the mirror. your hands on his skin, tracing down his spine and to his ass where you slap his cheeks gently. he can hear the slaps, feel the ripples of his ass cheeks. he can hear and see himself being fucked out, begging and lewd. his face being tear and drool stained as he begs you to:

“put it in! please don't tease me anymore.” he whispers to himself. he's shocked as the words just free flow past his lips but he continues on. he imagines your fingers circling his wet and puckered hole. he feels his own hole twitching at the thought to which he briefly thinks about doing it but decides to stick with imagination (only because he doesn't have the confidence)

his hand on his penis increases in speed. he becomes rougher with himself, tugging and squeezing his nipples hard. he squeezes his cock hard too, lips parting as he moans loudly. he doesn't care at this point. he doesn't care if you hear him or walk in on him. he's so consumed with himself anyways to think.

as he rubs himself, he continues to imagine. he can hear your sweet and gentle praises, calling him a princess and a good baby girl. he imagines your fingers in his ass and stroking his walls. he imagines himself tensing and throbbing around the digits, his penis also throbbing and begging to be touched as it leaks.

and then, he sees it. the strap-on that you've both been preparing him for. changbin's hips stutter and his movements on his penis are now sloppy, fast and desperate. the pit of his stomach is burning and feels so tight. he's hot and very close but he continues on with his imagination.

he imagines the tip of the strap-on poking and prodding his wet hole. he imagines making a note of how wet it feels due to the lube that is currently soaking the plastic. he imagines himself looking from over his shoulder at you and sobbing.

“please.” he begs to himself. “please put it in. need you so badly.”

as he imagines the tip slowly entering his hole and stretching him, as if waking up from a wet dream, his eyes shoot open as his orgasm hits him in an overwhelming manner.

“o-oh!! ohhh!” he moans. hot ropes of cum shoot out onto his torso. some of it landing on his thighs and staining the material of your panties. he strokes himself through his high, rubbing his tip in the process before painting heavily.

he pushes back his sweat coated curls and looks in the mirror. he flushes pink in embarrassment, post-nut clarity hitting him hard.

body stained with cum and sweat. cheeks rosy, eyes doe-like. his nipples perky and swollen but that's not what shocks him the most.

his own reflection staring at him as the tip of his penis is still visible and being pressed against his soft stomach thanks to the waistband. the once pink material and innocent look now stained with cum and tainting the innocence.

changbin panics and quickly rushes to the on-suite bathroom, where he takes the panties off (which are now stretched) and takes a quick shower to think about what to do about your underwear that he has just so lewdfully and willingly stained.

he comes to the conclusion to simply throw them away and buy you a new pair.

surely you wouldn't notice that a pair of your favourite underwear has gone missing and been replaced with something completely different, right?

#kwritersworldnet #wkcnet #straykidsland #seo changbin #changbin #seo changbin smut #changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #seo changbin x you #seo changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

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diodellet · 7 months ago

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Top 3 Victims of Getting Whipped by Jamil Viper's Long and Luscious Hair

i wanted to get the gunk from not-writing out before i go back to my pressing wips and i was thinking of how i used to get hit in the face by my friends with long hair…hence these crack hcs. content warnings: -this is crack. this is unserious. (couldn't help myself from hinting at angst. but this entire post is unserious, dw) -unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine. -im okay with this being rb’d and tagged as ship (then in that case this counts as pre-slash if you squint?) word count: 771

3.) Ace Trappola

Nearly took out his eye, those damn braids.

Okay, maybe he's exaggerating. Just a little bit. Then it’s back to business and completing this Alchemy worksheet early!

(Ace is a bit dramatic in that moment, only if it means that he gets to tick off one of his more put-together upperclassmen)

Maybe that’s on him for trying to put on the eager underclassman act (If only to get Jamil to do the brunt of the work for this joint class)

No, he’s not trying to get on Jamil’s good side. Don’t get it twisted. That guy is unbribable. (So Ace thinks, little does he know he’s going about it the wrong way.)

And while one can say that he’s learned his lesson, it doesn’t stop the occasional accident from happening.

And, well, it’s just funny to surprise Jamil. Aside from throwing a fake roach onto his gym bag, that gets boring really fast.

(So Ace says, but he likes to milk the 0.5 seconds of concern. He’s a little brother. It’s an easy way to get some attention drama around here.)

2.) Floyd Leech

Jamil's usually diligent enough to make sure his hair is secured during basketball training. But on a day where Floyd feels like putting in effort…

Well, things get messy. more than the usual amount of chaos that comes with team scrimmages.

And in Jamil’s quick pivot, one thing leads to another, you know.

More than being hurt, Floyd was: Surprised.

And secondly, he notices: Huh, Jamil's hair smells good.

A normal person would ask what products Jamil uses

Floyd’s intrusive thoughts, on the other hand, are like, “yo... what if we took a bite though?”

(0.5 seconds elapsed, we are working in bullet time for those last internal thoughts^^)

And it’s very hard to resist a prospect like that when you also throw in the shininess of Jamil's hair ornaments to the mix.

Cue remix of Beansfest: Hounding Jamil Pt. 2 Electric Boogaloo

(On his low energy days, Floyd doesn’t care. On his bad low-energy days, he’ll yank at the offending braid.)

Either way, Jamil already knows to give Floyd a wide berth on default. That’s why he’s relatively low on this list.

Honorable mention to Azul Ashengrotto

Well, it's only happened twice.

But the guy was changed after those incidents. (Epiphany?? Revelation??)

Maybe the first time he got stunned into silence from getting hit was a fluke, but then it happened again.

And once again, total silence.

(Is Azul supposed to feel appalled? Is this blackmail material? How can he spin this into a surefire conversation to rope Jamil into Octavinelle once and for all? *insert bluescreen noises*)

Jamil’s stopped feeling bad about it when the initial embarrassment wears off.

If Azul gets smacked across the face and loses his glasses, that’s on him. Jamil’s speedwalking away from the crime scene, call that plausible deniability.

Unlike certain people on this list, Azul’s conscientious enough to respect Jamil’s physical boundaries

(For the most part. Sometimes Azul gets too into his “Benevolent Housewarden” persona—it’s the untapped Theater Kid Energy in him—that it could happen a third time.)

1.) (Are we even surprised?)

It's Kalim al-Asim!

When they're at class, when they're going to the school store, even at the safety of the dorm.

(Who knew Kalim had the capacity for stealth when he’s not wearing any of his usual jewelry or accessories? Has Jamil been belling him like a cat?)

It has to happen at least once a day, so decrees the law of the universe

Maybe it’s a consequence of Kalim’s lack of personal boundaries.

(Well, after the events of Book 4, I could say something angsty about that but that can be its own post. This is supposed to be a lighthearted crack scenario)

The worst of it probably had to be during VDC rehearsals. Especially when they were getting the formations down.

Ace has made a tally of each time it has happened, Rook has confirmed the numbers. It cannot be denied any longer, there is Objective Statistical Proof.

Congratulations, Kalim! Here’s a hastily-made certificate of recognition! (Vil would sermon them for goofing off, but he can indulge in some levity. It’s the night before the performance. It’s better than seeing them nervous.)

Kalim’s confused about the makeshift award, but it’s ok, his default response to 97% of things is good-natured laughter.

Jamil on the other hand is done. He wants to sleep. (But, when you compare it with the stress of their initial rehearsals, this kind of situation doesn’t seem so bad. He’ll never admit that out loud though.)

a/n: anyway happy pride jamil, the guy with the most gender, i wudve wanted to give u a harem but my brain said to torment u at ur expense oops (i've had this wip since april, can u believe? omagah) i wasn't sure how to format a post with multiple characters (oh my god icb this is my first twst post that doesn't feature only jamil 🗿🗿) anyway, i hope this was entertaining a read!💕💕

#dellet-writings #twisted wonderland #twst #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst crack #jamil viper #floyd leech #ace trappola #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #could be pre-slash if u wanna read it that way

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pimosworld · 1 year ago

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Never have I ever

Kinktober Prompt-Voyeurism,Squirting,Polyamory

Pairing -Will Miller x f!reader x Tf boys x f!reader

Summary-You and the boys play a game and things take an interesting turn.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, Voyuerism, Smut, Fluff, Rough sex, Dom Will, mentions of anal, mentions of MM dynamics, restraints, mentions of safe word but no use, established poly relationship, Unprotected PIV, cream pie, squirting, aftercare. Appropriate discussion of past relationships.

WC-4K

A/N- Set in the story of us verse but can be read as a stand alone. Reader is not race coded, no use of Y/N. This is my current WIP procrastination, when lightning strikes you must write. My first kinktober prompt. I just reached 400 followers and this is 4000 words so I’m gonna take this as my follower celebration as well.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

“Ben, are we seriously playing this?” The five of you are situated comfortably in your usual spots in the living room and somehow the younger Miller has convinced you all to ‘make things more interesting’ in his words.

“I’m too old for this.” Frankie mumbles into his beer as he downs the rest.

“We know…that doesn’t mean you’re getting out of it.” You chuckle briefly as Santi’s hand skirts higher up your thigh under the blanket. He’s been slowly torturing you as you relaxed on the couch, all of you decompressing and going over your week. It was a new ritual to discuss the ins and outs of your time apart but it seemed Ben was growing tired of the normal mostly mundane conversation.

“Hands up let’s go.” The impatient Miller barks from his spot on the floor, too big to fit anywhere else and you're always unsure of why Will won’t just get a bigger couch. You suggested a few months ago that it would be nice for all of you to be able to relax together. He agreed but evidently it takes time to find the perfect one.

Everyone reluctantly puts their hands up, Santiago opting for one hand because he can’t pry his other from the warmth of you under the blanket. The other part of you knows he’ll probably lose this game and he doesn’t feel like putting too much effort into revealing how much of a slut he was before he pulled his head out of his ass and finally told you how he felt.

“Both hands, Pope.” Frankie chides from beside you and Santi squeezes your thigh before drawing his hand out and flipping him off.

This game was an odd choice, almost completely out of left field. The five of you knew almost everything there was to know about each other. Although you’re sure the boys know a lot more about their respective sexual escapades than they know about yours. Nothing among these men is ever done by accident, you’re just waiting to see the angle that’s being played so you don’t end up trapped. The confused and amused looks on the others' faces has you a little at ease since it seems this is a solo mission for Ben and those didn’t always go as planned.

“I’ll start since it was my idea.” Will sends you a look from across the room as to say of course and you’re acutely aware that he hasn’t let out one protest or sign of stopping this game. You’re almost positive it’ll come down to you both in the end and he knows it judging by the smug look on his face.

“Never have I ever faked an orgasm.” You roll your eyes as you put one finger down. Maybe you were going to lose after all. The chuckles from the others don’t help your embarrassment, even though you should hardly blame yourself. It doesn’t need to be clarified that since you’d been with all of them there was no need to fake it anymore, but it was definitely known by all that you had to in the past an ungodly amount of times.

You brave a look up from the carpet that you’d all but memorized as you see Ben's wide tooth grinning at Frankie beside you. You look over just in time to see Frankie put his finger down as the redness creeps up his neck. He’s staring daggers at the younger Miller and Santi’s chuckles send vibrations through your body as you lean into him.

“How did she not know?” You ask him in the sweetest tone, no judgment behind it, just genuine curiosity.

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, his calloused fingers digging into the patchy part of his beard. No doubt thinking how long this night will be if we have to explain each finger down,but of course that’s always Ben’s plan. He wants to draw this out for as long as he can.

“I pulled out and spit on her back.” He says it so sheepishly you almost feel bad for him. An image flashes in your mind and you make the mistake of looking over at Will who is doing his best to not completely lose it. You cup your mouth trying to suppress the giggle but it’s far too late.

“Laugh it up honey.” The funniest part is how could anyone not be thoroughly enjoying themselves when Francisco Morales is behind the wheel, but you figure it’s their loss.

You wrack your brain for something you’ve never done that they may have.Blowjob,one night stand,sent a nude photo,had sex in public…those are all out.

Will interrupts your thoughts as he speaks from the loveseat. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” He just saved you in more ways than one as you see Benny and Frankie glance at each other as they put a finger down. Santi tsks beside you and you don’t even have to look over to see he did as well.

You miss the look Santi shoots Frankie above your head as he makes a mental note. Ben may have been a thorn in his side at times but right now he could kiss the ground he walked on. Unbeknownst to you this has turned into a silent competition of memorizing everything you’ve never done,each time you don’t put a finger down he clocks one of them. He doesn’t even care that he’s about to lose as the room thrums with sexual tension.

As you predicted you and Will have the most fingers left. You have three,Will has two and Benny has one that he’s been holding onto for dear life. Santi and Frankie had long been out, Santi rejoins the group after refreshing your drinks. He knew he hasn't missed anything since it was getting harder to think of things as the game went on.

You need to get Ben out and you were sure this next question would. If it also took one down for Will then you would just be getting lucky you guessed.

“Never have I ever done anal.” Santi stifles a moan next you as Frankie not so subtly adjusts the growing bulge in his jeans. You were so focused on winning that you have no idea how thin of a thread they were holding onto. Frankie’s been fighting the mental image of checking each thing off your list one by one. Santiago isn’t faring much better not having realized how much innocence was still lying dormant in you.

Ben concedes as he grabs the pillow he was using on the floor, your brace for the moment that he decides to toss it at you only for him to place it gingerly in his lap.

“Welcome to the club.” Frankie mutters under his breath as you stare down Will who now has one finger up…interesting.

“Never have I ever been tied up.” Fuck

You put a finger down and wait for the responses that eventually never come. Will was playing dirty, he knows for a fact you’ve been tied up. It had only been a week since he asked you if you wanted to try it.

This was it,you had to go for the kill…but how bad did you want to win? You know there’s only one way but it will certainly come at a cost. In the end the cost may be worth it.

You raise up on the couch sitting back on your heels,proudly displaying the two fingers you have left. You can’t chance a look at anyone besides Will or you might chicken out. Frankie’s fingers grip nervously at the blanket that’s fallen next to you. He wants to reach out and touch you, the only sound over your beating heart is the rustling of the couch cushions as Santi leans forward just into your peripheral vision. Breath in…Breathe out 3,2,1.

“Never have I ever made someone squirt.” You say it so fast they almost don’t catch it…almost.

“Ha…he’s never made anyone…” Ben is silenced mid sentence as Will closes his fist and leans back into the seat. He doesn’t really care that he’s lost, in reality he’s actually won this game. Judging by the shocked looks on their faces or Ben’s mouth hanging agape. You didn’t fully think this through, your brain was clouded with the thrill of winning.

He almost feels bad for you as he says the momentary look of triumph quickly turns into one of defeat. It’s written all over your face as the realization sets in that you’ve completely fucked yourself, you would be a horrible poker player because you just revealed all your cards. If this were a lion's den you were a fresh piece of meat.

A drop of sweat trickles down your back as you lower your hand slowly to place it on your thigh. The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Prove it.” Santi’s voice is so close to your ear you nearly jump out of your skin.

Will tilts his head at you as if to challenge you. This game was far from over and you’d be damned if you were going to lose. You stand from the couch and walk over to him. Four sets of eyes watching your every move as you grab his hand and pull him to stand. You raise your eyebrows as an acceptance to his challenge and he starts to lead you away from them toward the hallway. You sense no movement behind you as you make your way to his bedroom.

“You boys coming or not?” A small stampede sounds behind you and you chuckle picturing them trying not to trample each other as their bodies catch up with their feet, no doubt all thought having left their brains.

****

Santi’s lost count, has it been five or six times Will has brought you to the edge only to pull away and deny you what you so desperately want and need. He’s no stranger to this game but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on by it. Watching from a whole different viewpoint. Being a spectator is thrilling and watching you writhe and chase his touch after each denial makes his cock achingly hard in his jeans.

Frankie’s not doing much better as he tries to follow Will's rules he laid out before starting. If you want me to show you then you don’t touch her unless I tell you to. The captain in him didn’t come out often anymore but when it did he commanded respect.

Ben stares on with excitement and curiosity written all over his face. He watches as you grip the sheets, your chest heaving as sweat beads down your forehead. Will told you not to touch yourself and Ben didn’t know you could be so obedient.

Wills got you so on edge you can’t be shy anymore about the way you beg for him and plead for him to let you come. A far cry from when you first entered the bedroom.

He had slowly undressed you and instructed you to lay flat on the bed. He crawled over your body kissing and biting his way up your thighs and your stomach. His hand caressed your breast as his tongue laved over the other. It was too much and not enough as your eyes met the others standing in the room. They’d all seen you in this position before but something about them watching suddenly has you feeling vulnerable.

“Look at me.” He leaned in and kissed you, deep and passionate as his hand gripped your waist and his tongue prodded your mouth. An expert distraction to bring you back to the moment.

“It’s just me and you.” It was the last thing he said to you before he methodically took you apart right before their eyes. You knew he was taking his time, putting on a show. He wasn’t simply going to make you squirt and move on like some conquest. He wanted to draw this out, show them what he was capable of.

He started with his mouth as his breath ghosted over your slick folds. He looked up at you through hooded lids one more time to give you a chance to back out, when you gave no indication of wanting to stop he dragged his tongue expertly through your slit. Parting it with his thumb as he dove in circling your clit. You were a goner from the beginning as he brought you to the first cliff only to leave you hanging. You cried out his name in desperation as he dipped two fingers in, pumping in and out as he bit down on your thigh. The pleasure and pain mixed in with you on display had your nerves alight.

With each denied release you can feel the pressure building in your core, it’s so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. You can taste yourself as he leans over you again kissing you through your whimpers as your body shakes beneath him.

“Will please…” Your sweet voice begging is like music to their ears. Frankie would give you whatever you want if you asked him but Will doesn’t budge.

“Please what sweetheart…I can’t read your mind.”

Son of a bitch he’s trying to kill you.

For all his resolve Santiago can’t help but be impressed. Even if this sudden burst of confidence is all a show for them he has to admit he would’ve caved by now and just went straight for the finale.

You’re not even sure when Ben and Frankie sat on the bed leaning against the headboard beside you, or when Santi sat at the end to have a perfect view of your pussy clenching around nothing as your arousal drips onto the sheets below.

“Please Will, I need you inside me…I need to come please.” You’re practically crying as he shushes you, his cock leaking precum on your stomach as it twitches in anticipation. He’s not going to be able to last much longer at this rate either.

He leans back on his heels as he grips the base of his cock, slapping your clit and dragging it through your slick as he slowly prods your entrance. The noise you make almost has him buckling as you sigh into it finally having what you want.

He starts at a slow pace as he wraps your legs around his waist, he can see the way your face contorts with every slap of his hips against yours. You can feel every vein and ridge as the lude sounds of your sweat and slick echo in the room.

You can’t see it from where you are but Frankie’s itching to touch you, desperately wanting to break the rule as he watches you try not to touch yourself.

Ben is mesmerized as he watches your breasts bounce with every thrust of Will's hips, he wants to latch onto you and bite down until you're screaming his name, but he knows his brother would do more than scold him if he so much as tried to touch you right now.

Santi’s waiting…waiting for any sign or movement as to how he does it. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself but he’s seen nothing new, nothing he hasn’t done to you a dozen times over. Any indication as to what Will has managed to do before the rest of them. It’s driving him a little mad as he watches you beg for it like you’ve never had it before.

You can feel the tension building as Will picks up his pace, he shifts your legs to either side of his head as he punches the air out of your lungs with every thrust. He brings his thumb down rubbing fast circles on your clit as you try to grab his wrist. That all too familiar feeling has you keen and arch your back. “Grab her hands.” Frankie moves before you can think, your wrists gripped tightly in one of his palms above your head.

“Wait…please.” He chuckles under his breath as his chest heaves with the sharp movements. Not mere seconds ago you were begging to come and now you’re begging him to stop.

You crane your head back and lock eyes with Ben, his eyes are etched with worry as he lays there helpless to your pleas. “Will!”

“She’s fine…aren’t you sweetheart?” You can’t think, he’s fucked you so dumb you cant remember your own name let alone formulate a sentence. “Yes.” Is all you can manage.

“She knows what to say if she wants to stop.” He grits through his teeth as his orgasm steadily approaches, his thighs burn and he’s surely bruised your calves as he grips tightly to them.

You’ve never safe worded with him and you don’t plan on it now. It feels so good as the searing hot sensation creeps up your spine threatening to take purchase in your brain. “Please don’t stop.”

He gestures to Frankie to grab the pillow, who moves with lightning speed as he situates it under your back. Santi looks at your face then, and he finally sees it. The look of panic and bliss as you succumb to the inevitable. He’s seen this look before but he ran from it afraid that he might hurt you. Will punches something deep inside you as he lifts your hips, the sound you make bordering on pornography while your arousal coats his stomach almost forcing him out of you completely.

He thrusts once and twice before nearly collapsing his weight onto you as he comes through your high. He releases your legs as he leans in to give you a kiss. Will was nothing if thorough and he always made sure you were okay. It’s in this moment that you truly feel like it’s just the two of you and not aware of the blissed out expressions of the other men.

“You did so good for me.” He pants out against your mouth as he desperately tries to catch his breath.

You highly doubt this is what Ben had in mind when he suggested this game but it ended much better than any of you would have anticipated.

Moments pass and you’ve just barely recovered. You’re in need of a shower and some water as you try to move slightly, the grip on your wrists tighten as you look back at Frankie.

Do it again.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging a few who might be interested

@csarab615 @syrupsstuff @ghostslillady @uudelally @onefinnedwonder-fm @thedreadandthefugitivemind @romanarose @scarletthefierce

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random-thot-generator · 8 months ago

Text

Thots go brrr so...

More medieval AU, this time with Good King John (Price).

Good King John who just wants his bratty Princess, dammit. A.K.A. - When a Good King Goes Bad

TW- MDNI 18+ Only- explicit sexual content, sexual situations and language, brief bloody violence, bit of bdsm- spanking, brat taming, mentions of bondage and impact play, my usual brand of fluffy smut

Notes - I know, I know... I've got two unfinished series and an embarrassing amount of WIPs in my drafts folder, but I can't help it. Soo... sorry, not sorry. No beta- embrace the imperfections.

warning banner by: @cafekitsune

Good King John, who went to a lot of trouble to earn your hand in marriage, only to have his best knight, Sir Simon - the Ghost, duped into delivering a chambermaid to him, instead. Oh, how you must have laughed, wicked little Princess that you are, thinking you had got one over on him. And you did, you tricksy little minx. Your trick worked, Princess, but playtime is over, now. It's time to come home and take your rightful place by his side as his queen.

Good King John, who makes the long journey to your kingdom to fetch you home himself, only to be thwarted again when your father, the conquered king, informs John that you snuck out of the castle under cover of darkness and escaped to parts unknown. John knows this is a lie, of course, but he can't fault your father for trying to protect his only child. Still, the wedding banns have been posted throughout the realm, so he will be taking his bride-to-be home with him, whether you or your father like it or not.

Good King John, who sends his spies out into your father's kingdom to discover what they can of your where-abouts. He knows well enough that it's the servants who are privy to everything that transpires within the walls of any castle, and so directs his spies to concentrate on them, specifically. It isn't long before their inquiries are soon rewarded.

Good King John, who is informed by one of his spies that you have disguised yourself as one of the servants at the castle. You've been masquerading as a male youth, a stable hand of all things, working and sleeping in the stables with the horses. His spies also report that you have also concocted a most devious scheme to lead John on a wild goose chase. You paid a sailor in silver coin to spread the rumor that he saw you boarding a ship bound for the Silk Coast, which is many weeks and leagues away. John can't help but be impressed by your adept little mind, wicked as it is. He has to reach down and adjust himself at the thought of soon having you all to himself.

Good King John, who decides to play along with your ruse, so orders his knights to commandeer a ship and begin the preparations for the long voyage to the Silk Coast. He must make it seem like he's fallen hook, line and sinker for your devious little plot. Later that evening, while dining with your father, the conquered king, and your stepmother, his trophy queen, John reveals to them his plans to follow in your wake and bring you home. He then requests to borrow one of your father's many servants for the journey. Thinking King John has fallen for your trick, your father happily acquiesces to his request. "You may take whichever servant suits your needs best," the conquered king offers magnanimously.

Good King John, who arrives at the stables before dawn, waking the stablemaster and telling him he is there to select a 'lad' from among the stable hands present. John spots you immediately, sleeping on a pile of hay. "That one will do," he says, pointing you out. The stablemaster, no wiser to the ruse than anyone else, kicks you awake and tells you to go with King John. Unable to refuse, what else can you do but go along with him or risk exposing yourself.

Good King John, who feels near giddy with excitement, knowing he now has his princess in hand. Sure, he could forfeit the gold he spent on chartering a ship and simply take you back to his castle, but then he'd have to lock you away and keep you under constant guard even after the two of you are wed. John knows he will have to win you over to tame your shrewish heart, and so decides to allow your ruse to continue.

Good King John, who boards the ship with you, having you lug his heavy saddlebags as you follow along behind him, instructing you to ready his cabin for him while he discusses the upcoming voyage with the captain. You nod and just barely catch yourself before you curtsy before him. Stable hands don't curtsy, you silly ninny! You give a quick bow and scurry away to do his bidding, thinking you'll sneak off the ship while he's distracted with the captain.

Good King John, who is no fool when it comes to your tricks, locks you inside the cabin then orders the captain to set sail immediately, trapping you aboard the ship with him. He returns later to find you glumly staring out of the porthole. "What's the matter, lad? Already feeling seasick?" he asks you, making a valiant effort to hide his smug smirk. He then has you join him on deck to watch your home recede into the distance as the sails billow and snap before catching the wind There's no escape for you now, but as soon as you put into the next port, you'll be gone.

Good King John, who orders you about like the servant you supposedly are, telling you to help swab the decks, then puts you to work in the galley. By the time he tells you to fetch his dinner and turn down his bed for the night, you're exhausted. Nothing pleases him more than to see your pinched expression when he sends you out yet again after dinner, this time to fetch him hot water so that he can wash. Even better is your look of dismay when you return only to be ordered to help him disrobe and bathe him.

Good King John, who revels in your awkward state as you help remove his clothing, stripping him down until he proudly stands before you in all his nude glory. You've never seen a grown man naked before and struggle to keep your eyes averted from his crown jewels as he patiently waits for you to wash every bare inch of his skin. Is this thing supposed to jut out like a jousting lance, you wonder as you take him in hand and drag your soapy fingers over his length.

Good King John, who is almost cross-eyed with the pleasure of your touch. Your soft hands have already lathered him from stem to stern, but to feel them now wrapped around his cock as you bathe him is almost his undoing. "Gods above! That's good enough, lad," he rasps out in a gravelly voice, clamping a hand around your wrists to stop your hands before he paints the front of your homespun tunic with his seed. You blink up at him with a fevered gaze, breaths softly panting.

Good King John, who listens to your exhausted little snores drift up from your pallet on the floor later that night, wanting nothing more than to pull you up on the narrow bed with him and test the strength of the ropes supporting his thin mattress. It is too soon for such things, unfortunately. Your curiosity has definitely been piqued, if your wide-eyed stare and firm grip on his cock were any indication, but he'll have to win over your heart and mind, if he's going to convince you to stay of your own accord. You're a willful creature, too smart and opinionated for your own good, but that's what first attracted him to you. He knows he's playing with fire, keeping you in his quarters, but he's certain he can control his desires long enough to win you over.

Good King John, who spends a week in close quarters with you aboard the ship. During this time, the duration of his sponge baths has lengthened considerably, taking much longer than the first time. John is more than happy to allow you to take your time as you become intimately familiar with his body, relishing your touch despite how torturous it is. He groans and his head falls back as your soapy hands cup his balls and lather his cock. Forcing himself to make you stop yet again finally breaks his iron will. Something has got to give, he decides. It's time to end this ruse of yours.

Good King John, who is at his wit's end, forms a most devious scheme of his own. After encouraging you to bathe and change in his cabin, he pretends to leave, saying he needs to speak with the captain. He waits outside the door and listens until he hears the splash of water, then enters the cabin again. There he finds you in all your naked splendor, a mortified expression on your face. "Well, well, what do we have here? I leave behind a young lad and return to find a comely wench in his stead." he says with a mock frown, not bothering to hide how his eyes rake over your nude form.

Good King John, who leans against the door, blocking your only exit as he glowers down at you. You grab the nearest bit of clothing, one of his shirts it turns out, and quickly don it to hide your nakedness from his hungry gaze, but it's too little too late. His blue eyes burn you with their avid intensity. A lie is already sitting on the tip of your tongue to explain your presence in his cabin, but then he takes the wind completely out of your sails when he reveals that he's known who you are the entire time. "Come now, Princess. No need to fret. I am your betrothed, after all. You don't need to hide from me. We'll treat the rest of this voyage as a pre-honeymoon, so we can get to... know each other better." All you can do is gape at him before the reality of your situation finally sinks in. "I will never marry you," you vow.

Good King John, who chuckles at your bluster, which only incenses you more. Unlike everyone else, however, he doesn't shrink away from your viperous temper, laughing at you when you begin to hurl whatever you can get your hands on at his head. He ducks a hairbrush, a cup and a bar of soap as he stalks forward to grip your arms, yanking you into his chest. "Rage all you want, Princess. It won't change your situation. Now calm yourself before I turn you over my knee." You sputter and spit, eyes narrowed in fury. "You wouldn't dare lay a hand on me!" you hiss at him.

Good King John, who takes your words as a challenge and is having none of your sass. Pulling you over to the bed, he sits down and has you draped over his knees so fast your head spins. Your bare bottom is exposed when he rucks his shirt up your back, holding your squirming form with ease as he brings his large hand down on the globes of your ass with a loud crack! You gasp in shock at the sound before fire needles into the skin of your bum. It's not a bruising strike, but the humiliation of being spanked lights a fire in your belly. Your efforts to escape double, but it's all for naught. He holds you in place like a misbehaving toddler and smacks your ass again. "Keep it up, you little brat," he says with a dark laugh. "You're long overdue for a proper punishment, anyway, you spoiled little thing."

Good King John, who spanks you until your cheeks glow red, your bratty behavior inciting his lust like nothing else. He's already hard as granite and having you squirming and moaning on his lap is only making it worse. His large hands knead and massage your plush bottom, watching the way your hips grind against his flexed thigh. He can see your 'punishment' has affected you in much the same way when he glimpses how swollen and wet your pretty cunny has become.

Good King John, who can't resist the temptation and slides his calloused fingers along the cleft of your bum, following its path between your legs, hissing at how wet he finds you. You go still at the contact, breath hitching in your throat as your back arches to his touch. No man has ever touched you down there before, and the feeling confuses you. Though you're loathe to admit it, you like how he's touching you, and Gods help you, you want him to keep doing it!

Good King John, who is hanging onto his control by a thread. Reining in his raging libido, he sits you up on his lap and brushes the last of your angry tears from your cheeks. "There now," he soothes, shushing you. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Just needed a firm hand to calm you down, aye?" He slides his hand between your legs again, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet folds. "Would you like me to make you feel better? Hmm?" What else can you do but nod vigorously, desperate to see what else he can do with those rough fingers of his.

Good King John, who brings you to the edge of bliss, sliding his fingers through your wetness, worrying the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. "Poor needy girl," he coos in your ear. "I'll make it all better. You'll see." And he does. Great gods above, he does. His hands work you like a piece of malleable clay, all your fury now spent, sending you to the heights of ecstasy as you wail and writhe on his lap, two of his fingers buried in your spasming cunt.

Good King John, who soon has you addicted to the things he can do with his hands and his tongue and his cock. You find yourself going out of your way to cause trouble, just so he will "punish" you again and again. The memory of his cock in your mouth makes you drool with want. The thought of his tongue slithering up your pulsing channel makes your thighs clench as you soak through your small clothes. Whether he's binding you to the bed to edge you until you're a dripping, crying mess or slapping your greedy quim for coming without permission, even when he's pounding into you from behind to "teach ya a lesson, Princess," you're more than willing to submit to his whims.

Good King John, who has no illusions about you, despite your eager participation in bed. Given the chance, he knows you'll still bolt like a scared rabbit at the first opportunity. Then the captain speaks the dreaded words. "We're coming into port, my lord." Though wary, John can see how excited you are at the prospect of being back on land again, so agrees to take you into the port city for a short walk, so long as you dress in your stableboy clothing to draw less attention.

Good King John, who warns you not to attempt an escape. "This is not your father's kingdom, Princess. There are pirates and cutthroats who wouldn't hesitate to have their way with you before slitting your throat. Do not leave my side, understood?" You eagerly agree, thinking he's simply trying to scare you. You're certain once you mention who your father is, these so-called pirates and cutthroats will be tripping over themselves to escort you home, especially when you tell them of the reward your father will pay out for your safe return.

Good King John, who allows you to lead him into a bazaar. You marvel at all the strange sights, all the exotic languages and unfamiliar smells. In truth, you lose yourself in the experience for a bit, catching yourself enjoying John's company. He is so well-traveled and knowledgeable, telling you about all the different places he has been, all the wonders he has seen. "Once we're wed, I'll set aside some time for us to travel. Would you like that?" he asks, and your current situation is once more at the fore of your mind. You can't fall weak to his charms. You must escape. He is your enemy, the man who conquered your father's kingdom and took you from your home.

Good King John, who pays no attention when you tug him into a busier section of the bazaar. There are throngs of people milling about, vendors hawking their wares, their loud cries and the bustling crowd serving as a distraction. Before he realizes what's happening, you let go of his hand and duck between two stalls, making a mad dash down a narrow alleyway. Your only thought is to evade and escape, knowing John and his men will be hot on your heels. Your path is winding and mindless, leading you further into the labyrinth of the city until you find yourself standing outside of a dingy looking tavern. Surely you can find someone inside who will be willing to help a poor damsel in distress.

Good King John, who is frantic with worry. He wasn't lying about the unsavory nature of this particular port city. Pirates and cutthroats do indeed frequent this port and would not hesitate to harm you or worse. Telling his men to fan out and find you, he takes his trusted knight Sir Kyle with him, questioning anyone who is willing to stop and listen. It's an old fishmonger who finally points him in your direction, saying a lad fitting your description nearly bowled him over.

Good King John, who slows in front of the same tavern you yourself found mere minutes before and sends Kyle in to search for you. No sooner does his knight enter the tavern when a startled cry sounds from an alleyway before being cut off. John feels his heart shoot straight up into his throat when he peers down the dark passage to see two men wrestling to subdue you. One of them snatches the cap from your head, your hair spilling out before the other one strikes you across the face. John sees red, bellowing like an enraged bull as he charges down the alley with sword unsheathed.

Good King John, who meets the blackguards head-on, his rage knowing no bounds as he hacks and stabs and slashes at the men who would dare to put their hands on you. By the time Sir Kyle finds him, John has hacked the men to death, blood flying from the tip of his sword as he draws back to strike again. "My lord!" he shouts, rushing to his king's side. "My lord, they are done for. Stop!"

Good King John, who is still seething with rage, turning a murderous eye on his own man. "My lord, 'tis I, Sir Kyle! Please, sire, we must be away. Grab the Princess and let us make haste back to the ship before you are discovered!" At the mention of his princess, John's fury evaporates as he turns his worried gaze to you. The devil who struck you has knocked you unconscious, your limp form collapsed against the wall. "My love," he whispers, gathering you into his arms before motioning for Kyle to lead the way back to the ship.

Good King John, who is beside himself with guilt and worry. He stares down at your still form, cursing himself for not keeping a closer eye on you. He knew the risks but was lulled by your sweet smiles and girlish charms, despite knowing your penchant for trickery. Now look what his failure has wrought. His beloved princess lying still as death in his bed. Even the ship's doctor cannot give him answers. "She seems hale and hearty, save for the goose egg on the back of her skull. I cannot say with any certainty when she will awaken, sire, or... even if she will awaken. I'm sorry, my lord. There is nothing more I can do."

Good King John, who sits by your bedside all through the night, rubbing warmth into your chilled fingers and stroking your brow. "Come back to me, my love, and I swear I'll return you to your home. I will leave you in peace and never plague you again if you will just open your eyes." Yet his pleas go unanswered, his bitter tears dampening the soft skin of your hand.

Good King John, who awakens to the feel of your fingers carding softly through his hair. Sitting bolt upright, he stares into your eyes, now open and alert. You frown, the prettiest pout he's ever seen on your lovely face. "My head hurts, John, and I've a powerful thirst. Is there wine in the carafe?"

Good King John, who calls the ship's doctor to his chambers to give you a thorough check-up. He pokes and prods, then calls you well and gives you a remedy for your pounding head and strict instructions to remain abed until the dizziness wears off. You lie in wait for John's return, certain you're due for a proper scolding, disappointed that it won't be one of his 'punishments' you receive, instead. However, John doesn't return. Servants do, with food and drink in hand. Hot water and soap are delivered as well, along with a lovely dressing gown and slippers. You sit on the edge of the bed and bathe, one eye on the door, expecting John to "surprise" you again, but still, he does not appear. You eventually fall asleep, head still turned towards the door in expectation.

Good King John, who honors his promise to you, even if you weren't awake to hear it at the time. His guilt knows no bounds, so he determines to deliver you safely back to your father. He tells the captain to turn the boat back towards the shores of your father's kingdom with a heavy heart. He knows he will surely pine for you the rest of his days, knowing no other woman will do now, that only you will ever hold his heart. He resigns himself to a lifetime of loneliness.

Good King John, who requests regular reports on your health and well-being, receives a request from you, delivered by the ship's doctor. "The Princess requests your presence in her chambers, sire. She's in a right fit of temper, if I do say so myself, my lord. She chucked a book at me for not answering her questions to her satisfaction." John can't help the wry smile on his face. His feisty princess doesn't put up with any guff. She's a warrior through and through, his lion-hearted minx.

Good King John, who enters his old quarters to find you pacing the worn floorboards. "Where have you been?" you demand, bottom lip jutting out as you cross your arms. "Is ignoring me my punishment for running away? If it is, it's not working. I don't care if I ever see you again!" A sad expression dims his ocean-blue eyes, but his smile is as kind and indulging as ever. "I understand your ire, my lo— ah, Princess, but fret no more. You will soon be relieved of the burden of my presence. We arrive at your kingdom on the morrow. I'm sure your father will be overjoyed to have you home again."

Good King John, who bids you a strained farewell and quickly removes himself from your cabin, leaving you to blink in shocked silence after him. He's returning you to your father? You slump on the bed, unable to process his sudden change of heart. Had your escape angered him enough that he's finally decided to wash his hands of you? Even at your worst, John withstood your tantrums and waspish words. He'd always been so kind and attentive and... loving. As realization sets in, a sadness like you've never known before settles in your breast.

Good King John, who sends his man Sir Kyle to collect you when the ship docks the next day. "Where's John?" you ask, as the knight hands you up into a waiting royal carriage. Sir Kyle avoids your sharp gaze, his mouth set in a grim line. "The king has gone ahead to meet with your father, my lady. I doubt you will see him again." Your heart constricts in your breast as the door slams shut and the carriage lurches into movement.

Good King John, who is in the throne room with your father when you arrive. The knights who guard the door deny you access, their pikes crossed to block your way. Oh, you throw a right strop until your ladies-in-waiting come to collect you, leading you down the corridor as you shriek like a harpy at the top of your lungs. They lock you in your chambers, leaving you to batter at the door with your fists until your strength is exhausted.

Good King John, who returns to his own kingdom a broken man. He spends his days staring out the windows and rubbing at the ache in his chest that has plagued him since he saw you last. He doesn't shirk his responsibilities, managing his kingdom and holdings with a firm and fair hand, but his heart is no longer in it. It has been cleaved in two and he fears it will never mend.

Good King John, who glowers down at a missive sent by your father, the conquered king. As he reads it over, a dozen carts laden with chests of gold and precious gems are delivered as well. His heart seizes in his chest as he reads the message your father has sent.

'May this find you well, Good King John. It shames me to say that since your departure, my castle has not known peace. You have surely bewitched my daughter, for nothing will soothe her anger except the promise of being reunited with you. I beg your mercy, good king. Please accept my daughter's dowry and know I fully endorse your marriage, if you are still inclined to take her as your bride. I wish you all the luck, good king, for you will surely need it.'

Good King John, who reads the missive several more times before a royal carriage with your father's crest comes clattering into the courtyard. He stares on in awe as a shrill voice erupts from the depths of the carriage. "Get this bloody door open! I want to see my husband! NOW!"

Good King John, whose smile could light up the night sky as he watches you step out of the carriage, sharp eyes searching the crowd until you spy him standing on the steps with his guards. Without a care for decorum, you snatch up your skirts and run to him, kitten heels pounding up the steps until you're standing before him, panting for breath, hair coming loose from its pins. Your eyes blaze with ire but are now tempered with an emotion much softer. "You're a fool if you think you're getting rid of me that easily, my husband."

Good King John, who roars with laughter as he catches you up in his arms and hugs you tightly to his chest. His heart is fit to burst when you cup his whiskered face in your hands and whisper, "Don't you ever leave me again, John."

Good King John, who kisses you soundly on the lips before whispering back, "Never again, my love. Never again."

Dark Knight! Ghost drabble (prequel)

#captain john price #john price x reader #Good King!John Price #medieval au #john price cod

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002yb · 7 months ago

Note

Cats and trapped for the wip please?

A recluse has no right to be this damn smug about anything, yet here he is: needle and thread in hand, snickering to himself as he hand stitches the last seam on a project he’s been working and reworking for an embarrassing amount of time. As far as hobbies go, he’s aware that this one is downright shameful; an actual embarrassment. It’s only fitting for the black sheep of the family though. It’s self-conscious coping at its finest, but Jason jokes with himself about leaning into the fucked up social leper rumor that’s been circulating about him for some time now. It is what it is, right? All of Gotham has their theories about the prodigal Wayne son. Little do they know that the truth is so much worse. The family cat lays across his desk, lazily pawing at a needle cushion until the sun slanting in through the window beside them draws them into a doze. They purr contentedly as Jason works, comfortable with what’s become a routine of peaceful calm because most days this is all there is. This is it. Because Jason hasn’t left the safety of the manor in over a year. Because there are some days where Jason can’t even step past the threshold of his own room. Because sometimes it’s all he can do to get out of his fucking bed without slipping into a catatonic episode of derealization from lingering trauma. (Sometimes Jason is still in that basement, the laughter of a mad man echoing off cold walls; the drag of metal on concrete scraping closer, closer).

Cat!Tailor AU (no capes). Where Jason becomes a recluse as a result of Joker induced trauma. He passes the time with a secret hobby of tailoring clothes for the house cat - Alfred.

Trapped under cut!

“Enough.” It’s an alpha’s command, but Jason fights the compulsion to obey. It prickles painfully at the base of his skull, smothering him as he lashes out at the League's assassins with vicious kicks and a snapping maw. Jason keeps Damian held close to his chest, thrown into a frenzy when the pup goes lax in his hold. It’s a dangerous game to bare his teeth at any alpha, let alone the Demon’s Head, but Jason’s upper lip lifts as he snarls, knees knocking beneath the strain of ignoring a command and growling a pitiful thing with his strained throat. Ra’s al Ghul is not threatened by anyone though, least of all an omega of Jason’s pedigree. There’s scorn in the cold glint of his eye and he commands again, “Kneel.” Everyone kneels. Jason forces himself to stand. Even when his weaker leg gives out, Jason pushes himself back up and meets Ra’s al Ghul’s gaze directly. An alpha’s purpose might be to conquer and provide, but omegas are not lesser or weaker. Omegas protect and damn anyone who tries to challenge them. “Kneel.” Ra’s commands once more and this time even the obedient shadows choke on the force of the compulsion. Something primal and inhuman tears from Jason’s throat, his legs buckling and bringing him to his knees. He pitches forward to prostrate himself, body curled protectively over Damian’s. There is no sound when Ra’s approaches him, but Jason can feel the man’s staggering and stifling presence. It bears down on him and although Jason tries to protest the forced subjugation, he can’t. It’s all he can do to hold onto Damian as the League assassins pull Jason upright, as they try to steal the pup from his arms. An angry and territorial rumble sounds from deep in his chest that has Ra’s lifting his chin with contempt at the challenge to his authority. The disobedience has his heart palpitating uncomfortably in his chest. Ra’s takes Jason’s chin roughly in his hand, his grip harsh enough that Jason has to bite back a yip as the man’s nails dig into the supple skin of Jason’s cheeks. The alpha tilts Jason’s head so that their eyes can meet and Jason does so with a glare. “Omega.” Ra’s says, contradictorily impressed and disparaging. Jason breathes harshly through his nose, jaw clenched. The alpha’s eyes flick down–an appraisal, a condemning judgment–before they return to hold Jason’s gaze.

AU where Jason tries to kidnap Damian from the League, but doesn't make it far at all before Ra's tracks him down. Very dead dove, very whump hahaha. Basically Jason gets thrown in a pit of the non-Lazarus variety and endures some trauma until he goes a bit feral and massacres his way out of the League.

It gets him in the same situation as before w/ Ra's & Talia tracking him down, only this time -- Jason (w/ little Damian), make it into the nearest city where they run into Renegade!Dick <- a development that happened soon after Jason's 'death'. And yes, pack dynamics ft Slade, Dick, Jason + Damian. //3//

#inbox game

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abysswalkersknight · 1 year ago

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Finally finished one of my WIPs! It's been sitting in my drafts for a while so I just spiffed it up a bit.

Basically I starting writing this after seeing a scary mystery movie and a perfectly normal debate with a relative whether it's scarier to be poisoned or unknowingly ingest glass. We're still debating on that, otherwise enjoy!

..............

‘Hmm? Is something amiss Silver?’ inquired Malleus. They were at their usual table in the cafeteria, while he, Lilia and Sebek were already seated with their food, Silver took a bit longer than usual, though glancing at his rumpled hair and drowsier expression seemed to explain his absence well enough. While it was, of course, troubling that Silver had a sleep spell during lunch, Malleus was more concerned about the pitiful amount of food on his charge’s plate ‘are you perhaps feeling ill?’ he says, briefly touching his fingers to the boy’s forehead to check for fever. Silver must’ve still been waking up because all of a sudden he startled violently at the prince’s gentle touch ‘oh, uh, not at all my lord…’ Silver looks down. ‘ah, I don’t remember grabbing this, I must have fallen asleep while standing in line.’

In the background Sebek began to berate Silver for his carelessness though the boy was not at all paying any attention to him while Lilia quietly slid his son a perfectly warm coffee he got earlier.

‘My, so even in his sleep Silver still drifts towards mushroom risotto.’ marveled the ageing fae, he urges Silver to drink the coffee and smiles as his boy slowly perks up, however Malleus still frowns ‘are you not going to grab more Silver? You must be famished from all the training you’ve done earlier.’ he says, tapping Silver’s meagre plate for emphasis. His retainer glances back to the endless line and sheepishly averts his gaze ‘it’s alright my lord, I’m not that hungry anyways so I can just eat something after classes’ he quickly murmurs, taking up his fork, but his other guardian was not finished ‘nonsense Silver, one cannot focus on an empty stomach. And from what I recall it will be three hours until both your classes and club activities finish. If you’d like, I'm quite happy to share my food.’ Silver began to fidget slightly at his prince’s persistence ‘no no my lord I couldn’t possibly-’ lifting an eyebrow Malleus could already sense a polite refusal coming so, he politely ignores Silver’s fervent protests and pinches both edges of their plates and quickly switches them, Silver’s plate now had a significantly larger portion of mushroom risotto. Silver sputtered with his hand hovering midair, unsure whether to risk retrieving his original plate or not ‘go on, eat Silver. If you’re unable to eat it all then I’ll simply finish the rest myself.’ Malleus coaxes with a swift bite of risotto.

Silver sighed fondly, throughout his life the only times his prince paid any attention to the clock were the child’s meal times where the dragon fae would make sure that his charge has had at least three proper meals a day and he’d continuously fuss over Silver like a mother bear if he’d found that the human’s meals were “lacking”.

‘Oh he was so much worse when you were a wee little babe.’ Lilia would gush whenever Silver mentioned this habit to him ‘back then Malleus would never take his eyes off the clock at home until the time came to feed you, oh he was so worried that he’d forget the time and accidentally let you starve’ then Lilia put a finger to his chin in thought ‘though I suppose his worry may have stirred from that parenting book I lent him that one time. It’s probably become a bit of a habit now but still it warms this old man’s heart to see my boys caring for each other!’

While the notion itself was greatly appreciated, there were times where it embarrassed poor Silver when the other students and staff witnesses Lilia’s fatherly doting or whenever Malleus scoops some of his portion onto Silver’s whenever he thought the human wasn’t eating enough, even now the fae flicks a graceful eye to the untouched plate, almost daring the human to go hungry.

Shaking his head, Silver carefully hides his smile and begins to eat.

All was well while they ate, Silver watched contently as his fae guardians conversed with each other and Sebek snapped and tore through his fifth helping of risotto, Silver was worried that he might bite through his fork and wonders if it would help if he caught something for dinner later, Sebek was always mentioning about how hungry he was so perhaps some extra meat would temporarily quell his friend’s voracious appetite.

Lilia was joyously teasing the prince about his lack of punctuality when Silver felt it, there was something strange about the risotto’s texture. As he chewed slowly Silver found an odd chunk of something hidden within the food, rolling it along his tongue he felt how it crumbled between his teeth though he soon came to believe that it was probably just a particularly large piece of mushroom so he shrugged it off.

Some of these mushrooms are rather big, he thought to himself questioningly as a different mushroom piece suddenly lodges itself somewhere in his throat, Lilia, Malleus and Sebek quickly turn to him as he roughly beats his fist against his chest whilst coughing dryly ‘my, you must have been quite hungry, my dear Silver’ chirped Lilia as he came over and thwacked his son firmly on the back.

‘No-no…s’not…that’ Silver wheezes, his terror rose as he suddenly bent over and braced one elbow on the table while the other clutched desperately at his neck, everyone else began to panic when Silver’s coughs take on a retching tone, each gasp convulsing his whole body. Immediately Lilia’s hands coiled around the boy’s waist and practically heaved Silver off the floor with every thrust he made, at the third though Lilia had to stop when Silver gave a particularly harsh gag. Everything seemed to pause as a dark scarlet colour splattered all over the pearly white plates and shiny wooden table, gleaming like precious rubies on display.

Everyone broke out of their shocked daze when Silver whined painfully, his ungloved hand reaching into his mouth, trying to grasp at something but his fingers shook terribly and kept slipping. Both Lilia and Malleus cry out, the latter quickly held the boy up gently by the shoulders while the former pries his son’s trembling hand away and replaced it with his own ‘shh, shh, it’s alright Silver, it’s alright, Papa’s here…’ Lilia coos softly, trying to soothe his panicking child while trying to ignore the blood that slicks his nimble fingers, making it difficult to grip anything… Ah ha! There! As light as a feather Lilia took hold of something rock solid and gently, he tugged on it, taking great care to avoid hurting his boy even more. Slowly but surely something was coming out, blood thickly spewed out before revealing a distorted clear piece of glass pinched between Lilia’s fingers, small enough to remain hidden but big enough to potentially tear up a throat’s insides. Malleus stares at the glass with a look of outraged disbelief, who would dare-!

‘My liege!’ Both fae quickly turn at Sebek’s cry. The knight had searched through Silver’s risotto and has dug out three more pieces of glass of similar sizes to the one lilia had just pulled out, Sebek looks at Silver worriedly and promptly rushes to his side when the human whimpers and gasps out more blood ‘quickly! Help me take him to the infirmary!’ lilia barks, hoisting Silver up by one side and Sebek soon taking the other. In the rush Malleus was left behind with the staff on duty to control the excited crowd, he hadn’t wanted to of course, he had to be at Silver’s side, making sure that he was being properly treated, to think that there was someone within the school who had the absolute gall to do something so despicable to someone under his care, to target Silver- wait.

He thought back to the beginning of lunch, to his and Silver’s plates… They weren’t going after his retainer, they were targeting Malleus. His fists clenched, so hard that he felt some seams in his gloves tear. When I get my hands on whoever’s done this-

He had only wanted to make sure that his charge was well fed, but in his folly all he did was unknowingly feed Silver a plate filled with tampered food, and now this has happened. Glass in their food would have only been a minor inconvenience to fae like Lilia and Malleus, as was possibly the perpetrators prior intentions, but clearly the same cannot be said for humans, as was seen with Silver. For that alone I will slowly tear them apart, he thought dangerously, tis only right, they have hurt what is mine and as crown prince of Briar Valley it is my duty to put them in their place. But first, he must attend to Silver who should be in the infirmary by now… Malleus can only hope that his charge won’t suffer any long lasting ailments due to this. With that thought in mind, the dragon prince disappears in a flurry of green lights.

By the time he arrived Silver was fast asleep in one of the few infirmary cots, his parted mouth emitting weak wheezy breaths. Lilia sat at the head, tenderly stroking his boy’s soft locks ‘the nurse said he should be fine’ the old fae says without glancing up, moving closer something in Malleus’s chest tightens when he finds little splotches of dried red in the corner of Silver’s pale mouth ‘how bad was it?’ he murmurs, bending down to caress Silver’s cheek, the boy showed no signs of stirring. Lilia hummed and gestured to a tray on the other side of the cot, on top was a smaller, cruel looking piece of glass ‘apparently that bit must have broken off the one I pulled out’ he mumbled looking at his now gloveless hand, his eyes flick back to Malleus ‘let me guess. You have come to the same conclusion as I?’ it was not a question ‘good, then it is alright to ask that you remain here with Sebek at Silver’s side while I go handle this.’

Malleus blanched, what? No! He won't have Lilia do this alone! It was unbecoming of the prince to back down from such a blatant challenge. But just as he was about to protest, his guardian pinned him down with the general’s sharp gaze ‘no Malleus, while I’m well aware of your power, remember that this was an attack staged against you, little Silver simply had the misfortune to be the recipient of it, and we don’t want any unfortunate incidents happening as well, do we?’ he grins maliciously, it was then Malleus recalled just who he was speaking with, he may have changed immensely over the centuries but this was still Lilia Vanrouge, general of the right and one of the most feared fae out there. And someone had just signed their death sentence the moment that glass was placed, not only had they targeted his first child and prince of Briar Valley, they had even wounded his second child with such a callous method and now here he was resting in an infirmary with a torn up throat, how could Lilia ever let something like this slide without punishment.

Even better they have made an attempt on Malleus’s well being, Lilia thought his talons twitching with unbridled bloodlust, that means I can go all out as his guard.

I hope the staff catch them quickly.

His grin widens.

Otherwise I’m going to have some fun.

#knight's writing #silver twst #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst #the second one off a little list of WIPs I made #I can't recall the name of the movie I watched but the scene where a guest finds glass in the marmalade scared me #not in a scary way but surprisingly it was scarier then scenes where people were poisoned

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trollprincess · 3 months ago

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Since my birthday is tomorrow, I figured I would make a short list of what I want just in case anybody is in a giving mood:

Money.

Any of the many, many, many minidollhouses on my Amazon wishlist.

For the Leverage team, and in particular Hardison, to hack into the system and wipe out our collective student debt. (And also all the medical debt while he’s at it.)

A free ticket to go back in time and watch Queen perform at Live Aid from the front row.

The ability to teleport.

A lifetime supply of red licorice laces and salted roasted pumpkin seeds.

For Pringles to start making those cinnamon sugar tortilla chips again.

To dump a truckload of elephant diarrhea on Ronald Reagan’s grave.

I said money, right?

To lose forty pounds in one night, preferably without delivering a child I didn’t even know I was pregnant with or losing at least one limb.

Five more seasons of “Sense8.”

That really fancy train ride from Paris to Istanbul that costs like 80k Euros.

The ghosts of the people in town who died of COVID to haunt the newspaper editor who added “Are you better off now than you were four years ago?” to his enormous Trump sign out front of his office.

One free month at the Library Hotel in NYC where I’m not allowed to do anything but read and write.

A literary agent.

A pitch-black Victorian house decorated with 90s movie witch vibes.

A Bluetooth connection between my brain and my phone so I can just download my goddamn story ideas instead of wasting time typing them out.

For all of my WIPs to edit and polish themselves.

A free maid service that doesn’t judge about the depression mess and makes me a tea before they go.

A wallet that always has the exact amount of money I need inside it whenever I open it up and can never be stolen or lost from me.

The ability to choose to watch a show I’ve been meaning to watch instead of watching the same old show for the eleventy millionth time.

For someone to come repair the patch of cross-stitching I fucked up so I don’t have to.

My own capybara.

Yup, definitely said money. I take PayPal, Venmo, CashApp, Zelle, carrier pigeon, singing telegram, personal delivery by Janelle Monae, and the quiet but satisfying feeling of all my creditors suddenly forgetting I exist.

Chocolate chip cookie dough without the chips in a jar that never empties.

To live long enough to finish all the books in my TBR pile.

For Professor to live just as long as I do, if not forever beyond that.

For Elon Musk to eat several thousand fried dicks.

For Donald Trump to end up broke and alone with every single one of his followers having finally realized the emperor has no clothes.

World peace, free education for all, universal healthcare, high-speed rail, the end of poverty and bigotry, kindness throughout the land, and for whatever embarrassing memory pops into your head at the worst of times to vanish from existence as though it never, ever happened.

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shewhowas39 · 3 months ago

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wip whenever

thank you so much @kalmiaphlox for the tag!

so the next chapter of Juniper & Starlight is going to be a bit late, because i'm finally working on the smutfic i promised. which also serves as my Fall in Faerun piece for @thekindredcollective's ongoing event!

so here's another snippet from that piece! which i hope to have up in the next day or two.

***

Astarion makes his way past them all, heading straight for the library. He’s eager for June to see his costume and inevitably swoon over him. He’ll tease and tantalize her until the end of the night, until she’s wild and desperate for him, and that will be his revenge for her betrayal. A nice, simple plan.

He pushes open the large oak door and is greeted by a few familiar voices.

“I’m real sorry she couldn’t make it,” says a woman with a twangy accent from somewhere deep within the chamber.

“As am I. But it sounds like she and her brother are having a nice evening back in Baldur’s Gate with our little girl.” A pair of large devil horns appear around the corner of a shelf. “But I should be getting back. Gale has been kind enough to allow me use of his Teleportation Circle so I can make a speedy return to my family.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you on this return trip, my boy,” warbles an old man’s voice. “Though I have enjoyed the festivities, I do have an engagement I must attend to in Baldur’s Gate that is of the utmost importance. I dare not say urgency for that implies a level of danger that I do not think exists in this situation, but importance nonetheless.”

“Of course you may, Elminster.”

Wyll, in a very elaborate knight’s costume, with full, shining plate armor, comes into view. He pauses and smiles at Astarion, raising his sword in greeting. Beside him, the famed elderly wizard has cast an illusion on himself to appear as a walking hunk of cheese. It is both impressive magic and a disturbing image at the same time.

“Astarion!” Wyll says. “It’s good to see you. You look quite scholarly.”

But Astarion isn’t listening to a word Wyll is saying. His mouth has gone dry and his eyes have gone wide, because just behind Wyll is the most beautiful woman Astarion has ever seen.

June is dressed in a flowing pink gown that coasts elegantly over her soft curves. The bodice of her dress cups and pushes up her breasts in the most enticing way. And a glittering silver crown with pink jewels sits atop her head full of dark blond curls. He’s seen her every day for the past three years, and somehow she still has the power to render him speechless. It would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so damn smug about being the one this gorgeous woman wants.

And, of course, beside June is Astarion’s current rival for her affection: the dog. Scratch has a spiraling white unicorn horn attached to the top of his head. The princess’s noble, magical steed.

Astarion does take some amount of solace in the fact that June’s blue eyes rove over him as well, and a flattering blush colors her cheeks as she does so.

Wyll’s gaze darts between the two lovers, and after a moment he laughs before clapping the elderly wizard on the back. “Come on, Elminster. Let’s give the lovebirds some space to compare costumes.”

“Hm? Oh, quite right,” says the walking cheese.

***

no pressure tags for @kittenintheden @khywren @dungeonsdragonsandlawyers and @aevallare

#wip tag #astarion x female oc #astarion x oc #astarion fic #astarion ancunin #fall in faerun #astarion smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #juniper & starlight

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chobani-flip · 7 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

I was tagged for tidbit tuesday by @tiltingheartand and @actuallyitsellie so I'm taking the tags as carrying over to wednesday and will be taking no objections to my impeccable logic here's three snippets for three prompt fics I'm writing for @wakeupnew @bucktheally and @apartmentsmoke (they can have fun guessing what is for whom😁)

In the aftermath, they’re sitting - a little stiffly - on Tommy’s couch, taking turns sipping from six different cups (sipping in Buck’s case, anyway; he’s doing his best to avoid describing the unholy noises Tommy’s making in order to "aerate his palate") as Tommy determines if any of the coffee samplers Buck brought are worthy of being dialed in on his espresso machine. All the while, Buck’s trying not to stew in the delayed embarrassment at his own knee-jerk overreaction and hypocrisy. He’s famously tried to walk off much worse injuries in the past, and after the lightning strike, he’s extremely familiar with how it feels to want to be left in peace and quiet for a while.

He raises his head and opens his mouth the smallest amount to inform Tommy of his plans, but gives up half-way through when he feels his lips come into contact with tantalizing warm skin and downy hair. It’s only been a couple of months but already his body has adopted new unconscious rituals, automated motions; like grabbing the largest plate out of the cupboard for Tommy when they have croissants for breakfast because he likes to unravel them in a spiral and fling flakes all over the kitchen island, or like now when his lips make contact with Tommy’s skin, and the new directive his body obeys without thinking is to kiss, caress, taste…

Evan Buckley arrived in his life on the wings of a Category 5 hurricane. Everything else follows from that.

At least that’s how Tommy rationalizes the frankly insane decisions he’s found himself making in Evan’s presence and under the influence of his gorgeous blue eyes and smart smiling mouth.

After the shitstorm that was the end of his last long relationship, Tommy was careful with his heart in a way that he never felt the need to be in any other aspect of his life. And yet with Evan, he found himself agreeing to meet his family after a single failed date, and asking the 90 engine driver to drop him off at the hospital to try to make it, and deciding to risk exploding his kitchen by experimenting with new recipes because Evan was coming over for dinner, and last time Tommy was over at Eddie’s, Chris mentioned how much Evan liked caramel sauce and then showed him a TikTok where a credible abuela insisted you can make the perfect dulce de leche every time out of condensed milk if you boil it in an unopened can.

all of these may be subject to change but MIGHT be ready before the episode tomorrow? anyone else who feels like it, consider yourself tagged, tag me and show me your fic snippets *grabby hands*

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #wip wednesday #911 abc

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lyzelky · 4 months ago

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WIP WEDNESDAY

Tagged by the lovely @atsadi-shenanigans! A pleasure as always!

A snippet in which Tav shows mercy, and Astarion can't understand why.

When she returns to the others, she finds that not only has the campfire been lit, but that Wyll has already started on dinner. “Least I could do,” He says when she thanks him, “I’ve always heard the quickest way to people’s affection is through their stomachs, and I had some leftover provisions that were going to go to waste, otherwise. I hope you all don’t mind some mushroom and rice porridge?” As Gale wanders over to offer his advice on cooking, Tav finds that Mattis, the tiefling child from earlier, at her elbow. “ ‘Scuse me miss,” He says, grinning, “I think you owe me a coin.” She blinks down at him, then remembers. “Oh!” She laughs, “You lit the fire first then, I suppose?” His tail swishes eagerly as she reaches for her coin purse. “Sure did!” He says, “Wyll saw me and everything. Honest!” “Don’t worry, I believe you…Hold on,” She frowns, “What in the…?” Her purse, having been bolstered after their escapade in the Wither’s temple, now barely has two coins to scrape together. “Something wrong, miss?” Mattis asks. She’d figure it out later— she did promise the kid a gold, after all. “Nothing,” She lies, and goes to hand him a coin, “Don't spend it all in one—“ Mattis holds out his hand, beaming, but before she can drop the coin in his palm, a pale hand reaches into view to snatch him up by the collar. “Astarion!” She gasps, “What in the hells are you doing? Put him down!” “Get off me!” Mattis screeches and flails about, but Astarion shakes him roughly and says, “I was going to let your little ruse go, sloppy as it was, but going back a second time? Now, that’s just greedy.” Mattis stops flailing and glowers up at Astarion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, petulantly. “Astarion,” Tav pleads, “Put him down, whatever it is, we can talk about it.” “Not a chance,” He sneers, “I put him down and we’ll never see him again. Here.” There’s a flash of a steel as Astarion brandishes his dagger, and a coin purse falls from within Mattis’ vest to the ground. Several dozen coins tumble from the bag’s opening, along with three very familiar orange gemstones; The gems Astarion had given to her just this morning. Tav picks up the pouch and feels her face flush with embarrassment. Tricked by a child— How stupid could she be? “See?” Astarion gloats, “Nothing but a dirty little pickpocket. This is why— What are you doing?” He goggles as she carefully returns the stolen coins and gems to her own pouch, and holds out the remaining amount to Mattis. “Let him go,” She says gently to Astarion, “There’s no harm done.” He stares at her. “You can’t be serious.” She lifts an eyebrow. He scoffs and incredulously and drops Mattis to the ground. The child stumbles, regains his balance, then eyes her warily. “Go on,” She says, holding the coin purse aloft, “I figure you’re doing this to look after your sister, so I’m not mad. Though, might I suggest a different avenue of business in future?” Mattis shoves the coin purse back into his vest and cracks a tentative smile. “Sure, I’ll uh, keep that in mind. Bye!” He takes off up the path without another word, and vanishes into the gathering darkness. “You know he’s going to rob the next person he sees, don’t you?” Astarion sniffs, “Letting him go won’t solve anything, miscreants like that need discipline—“ “It’s fine,” She says quickly. She has an idea of what he means by discipline, and it makes her chest tighten strangely. “And anyway, you seemed pretty chuffed over Arabella stealing the Druid’s Idol. Why the change in attitude?” “Oh yes, well, that was entirely different,” He smirks, “That was funny.”

Thanks again for the tag! Now I tag... @again-please @starryheavenstos @dwarfsized @gilded-glitter @kittenintheden and anyone else who wants to join in!

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #writing #wip wednesday

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steddieunderdogfics · 8 months ago

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: MuseumGiftShopEraser! They have 9 works on AO3 in the Stranger Things Fandom, and 6 of those are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @museumgiftshoperaser:

Paint the Devil on the Wall

Conversations About Love

Now I'm A Stranger

An Exercise In Denial

Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me

Her fics are BEAUTIFUL. When I first read Paint the Devil on the Wall I was so obsessed I immediately recced the fic to everyone I knew who would be vaguely interested in a steddie fic. -- anonymous

Below the cut, @museumgiftshoperaser answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I stumbled into it immediately after season 4 came out. I’ve felt very attached to Steve as a character from the beginning of the show and I think I was subconsciously waiting for someone to pair him up with. I think they’re both such great characters to explore themes of dealing with expectation (either by conforming, or fighting against it) and that’s something I always love to write about.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Absolute sucker for fake dating. Can’t get enough of it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Enemies to lovers! Though now that I’m looking through my AO3 I haven’t actually written that much of it. It doesn’t have to be very intense enemies, though. I just like it when characters don’t immediately get along.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

My brain has been forever rewired by took you for a working boy by pukner. It’s such a gentle, nuanced queer story. It feels vulnerable to me in a way that really only fanfiction can be. Can I sneak in another one?? Because everyone should also absolutely read the shame is on the other side by scoops_ahoy. It taps into this very specific kind of queer compartmentalizing, that I’ve never seen written this well. It broke my heart and patched it right back up.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been stupidly busy with my masters lately so there’s probably not a lot of writing on my horizon. I do have a wip called Doll that I’m slowly chipping away at. It’s a little darker than stuff I’ve written before. I know ‘dark’ isn’t really a trope, but I’m excited to see if I can push these characters a little further.

What is your writing process like?

Absolute chaos. I write non-chronologically, without an outline, all in the same document. I keep writing snippets and scenes until the whole thing slowly comes together.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Italicizing words for emphasis. I love it so much, you can rip it from my cold dead hands. It accidentally makes its way into my academic writing for my degree sometimes which is a little embarrassing, but I just love the flair of it.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I don’t really do schedules, it doesn’t work for me at all. I try to make sure I have a decent amount of the story written before I start posting to give me a bit of a head start, but forcing myself to finish something by a certain date is a surefire way to kill my motivation.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Probably Paint the Devil on the Wall. It was the first time I’d written the entire story before I started posting so it went through way more rounds of editing than normal. I think you can really tell. It’s also the longest story I’ve ever written (in general, even outside of fanfic). The whole project gave me a lot of confidence as a writer.

How did you get the idea for Paint the Devil on the Wall?

I knew I wanted to participate in the Bigbang and the deadline was coming up, but I still didn’t have an idea. I decided to work backwards and try to think of something that would be fun for the artist(s) to draw. I had a vision of Eddie wearing dungarees without a shirt, absolutely covered in paint and I knew I had to write something to make it happen. I set the story in 80s New York because neo expressionism is really the only kind of art I could see Eddie making. I think it suits him very well. I do actually have a background in art, though! I’m currently getting my MFA, but I’ve worked full time as an artist for several years before that. I had a lot of fun working my passion for art (and all those art history classes I had to take) into the fic.

When writing Paint the Devil on the Wall, what was something you didn’t expect?

All of Steve’s character, to be honest. The fic is written from Eddie’s POV and for a large part of it he has a very hard time figuring out what Steve’s deal is. Right alongside him, I also had an incredibly hard time figuring out his character. It wasn’t until I was working on the final chapter that he finally clicked for me. I realized very late, just like Eddie, that Steve liked him from the very beginning. Most of the enemies to lovers premise was all in Eddie’s head.

What inspired Now I'm a Stranger?

Oh boy, that was forever ago! I remember I started writing it while I was camping with friends because I liked having something to do after everyone went to bed at night. I think I had the idea for that very first scene where Steve doesn’t remember Eddie and it all sort of spiraled from there.

What was your favorite part to write from An Exercise in Denial?

That was the very first fic I wrote, right after season 4 came out! I’ve never written something that fast, I think the whole thing took me less than a week. My favorite part was probably Robin being completely exasperated with both of them. They’re such complete idiots in that fic.

How do/did you feel writing Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me?

Ahhh… I never got around to finishing that one. I probably never will, to be honest. I wrote the first two parts quite quickly and then the idea I had for the plot spiraled out of control and I realized I didn’t actually feel like writing the rest of it. There were going to be a lot of misunderstandings and I learned that I find that an incredibly frustrating trope to write (when done for drama at least. For comedy, I’m a sucker for misunderstandings.) So I guess I felt a little in over my head.

What was the most difficult part of writing Conversations About Love?

The ending! That fic is so incredibly personal to me and I knew from the beginning that I wanted it to have a very sappy, happy ending. It was important to me to write an aromantic character getting everything they wanted, but I realized as I was writing it that I don’t actually fully know what that means. So it took a bit more soul searching than fics typically do, but it was very much worth it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I still think the short little prologue for Paint the Devil on the Wall is the best thing I’ve written. “You don’t draw on things that aren’t yours, baby” is probably the best summary I have for that story.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Not really!

Thank you to our author, @museumgiftshoperaser, and our anonymous nominator! See more of @museumgiftshoperaser works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers

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simonxriley · 6 months ago

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WIP Wednesday/Last Line

I was tagged by the wonderful @cassietrn @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather and @voidika, thank you! 💜

I've only been working on the next chapter (very slowly) to 'when the world falls' and i have a decent amount to show you.

‘Unless you want me to be again?’ ran through her head multiple times. In a twisted way she wants him to be, she wants to relapse. She wants to feel that way again, the calm, not scared Liz. But times have changed and she’s no longer with her former squad. She doesn’t need those drugs anymore.

“I’m gonna have to pass. I’m with a new squad now, I’m happier; I don’t need those drugs anymore.”

“You know what?” He took a deep breath and smiled. “I’m happy for you, Liz.”

Out of everything that has happened today, this has shocked her the most. He was happy for her? That didn’t seem true to her. “Really?”

“What? I’m not dumb, I knew you were miserable before.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I can tell something has changed in you, you’re a lot happier.”

Liz could feel the heat on her cheeks rise, she looked down at her feet making sure he couldn’t see her blushing face. Which was embarrassing, she never liked blushing around people.

“Well, I am.” She looked up with a small smile and sighed. “It’s nice being a part of a new team, it’s like a brand new start or a second chance.”

“Like I said before, I’m happy for you!”

“Thanks Asher, I appreciate it!”

He gave her another warm smile and placed his hand on her head. “No problem. I won’t keep you any longer.”

Her eyes moved to his hand that was on her head. “You know I’m not a kid right?”

Asher’s smile slowly faded from his face as he took his hand off her head. “Right, sorry.”

“And to think I used to buy drugs from you,” She shook her head, chuckling. “I should probably get to Logan before he has a fit.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

She waved goodbye and they went their separate ways. As she was walking towards the pit she thought to herself that he wouldn’t be seeing her later, she won’t be here after tomorrow, she probably should’ve told him that. Oh well, he should’ve already known that after she told him she was a part of the 141 now.

Opening the door to the outside she got blasted by some warm wind. The only thing she was thankful for right now was not being in full gear. Afghanistan is already hot enough, now add about fifty pounds of gear and it’s hell. It makes her very happy that she’s stationed in the UK now. Where it’s cooler.

As she made her way down the stairs to the pit she saw Logan sitting on one of the weapon cases fiddling with a knife. “Be careful or you might hurt yourself.”

“So, you decided to come after all.” He slid the knife back into its sheath and crossed his arms. “I thought you’d stay inside with Simon.”

“Well.” she shrugged her shoulders. “He said it would be good for me to spend the last day or so with you. Since we don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”

taglist (opt in/out) @playstationmademe @sergeiravenov @alexxmason @carlosoliveiraa @leviiackrman

@g0dspeeed @theelderhazelnut @katsigian @illmetbymoonlight @collinnmckinley

@inafieldofdaisies @justasmolbard @r6shippingdelivery @dickytwister @carrionsflower

@killerspinal @shegetsburned @statichvm

#wip: when the world falls #and to think this will be the last time Liz and Logan see each other for a while #oc liz walker

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kinnporsche · 2 years ago

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here’s yet another kinn & porsche rec list! just like with the first two, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each is written by a different author! also, all currently incomplete fics have been marked with (wip). listen, when i tell you kp fics are literally piggybacking me through this year, i mean that shit. there are an insane amount of talented people in this fandom, we’re honestly so blessed. anyway, please be sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love! [part 3/?]

— echoes in my dreams by nuwildcat – explicit / 92k words

It’s been 10 years since the first Kaiju attack, humanity built the Jaeger program to fight them, and Kinn Annakin Theerapanyakun is one of the top Jaeger Pilots in the world. There’s just one problem—none of his co-pilots have lasted past a year with him. Enter Porsche Pachara Kittisawat. Somehow, this disaster of a bartender with no Drift experience shakes Kinn’s understanding of the Drift and changes humanity’s fate at the same time. Well, as long as Kinn doesn’t kill him first.

— instinct by thewayside – explicit / 90.5k words (wip)

Not everyone has an instinct, an animal self that lives inside a person, born from their souls and forged to live in their flesh. Hundreds of years ago it was common to have bears, rabbits, fish, and lions, a menagerie of animals—but now, as time and dilution of bloodlines has increased, the most common thing to have is nothing at all.

— two shots by martynax – explicit / 81.8k words

“So I’m supposed to end a mafia dispute?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, wondering if he’s making a mistake, revealing it to Porsche so soon. Nothing is set in stone, after all. But he has a gut feeling that the man appreciates honesty and simplicity much more than intrigue and schemes.

“Then why don’t you kill him yourself?” Porsche questions, but that is going to stay a secret from him for now. He won’t give Porsche ammunition to get away from the deal. If he says he’s trying to keep it a secret from his father, he could find a way to get in contact with him and fuck things up for Kinn. It may be far-fetched but Kinn’s not taking any chances.

“How about you answer one of my questions?” He asks, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“Oh? You show me yours, I show you mine?” Porsche teases him. The raised corner of his mouth and the twinkling in his eyes makes it clear he’s making allusions to their dicks.

“I know mine is bigger, there’s no need to compare. You would just embarrass yourself,” Kinn tells him with a smirk of his own, helpless against the pull Porsche seems to have on him. Porsche laughs, clearly surprised at the comment.

— ‘til the fever broke by vesna (mrsronweasley) – explicit / 63.6k words

In a world where having a sex slave is a status symbol, Kinn’s father gifts him with a slave.

— stumbling to the edge ‘series by firerisingoverthehills – mature / 51.4k words

Kinn doesn’t kiss. He just doesn’t. Not since Tawan and how that whole shitshow ended. Porsche must read something on his face, because he actually bridges the gap between them. He sets a hand on the seat next to Kinn’s thigh and leans into his space. His knee is up on the seat, the other leg hanging off it. He leans in close enough that Kinn can feel his steady breaths on his face.

Kinn is going to tell him. He’s going to lay down the rules. Tell him that he doesn’t kiss. That he doesn’t like to be challenged. He’s going to—

And then Porsche kisses him and Kinn... Kinn doesn’t stop him.

(Or: An AU where they meet in a slightly different way, Kinn still falls head over heels though.)

— xxx curious straight boy ‘series by mirrorofprinces – explicit / 34.2k words

“Porsche is extremely close to signing. In fact, he has a final meeting with the execs on Monday morning. The only condition is that he wants to request his first partner, and it’s you.”

Kinn takes a long drink of his whiskey, sets the glass down, and runs his tongue over his teeth. “So you had to meet with me, urgently, to tell me that a beautiful boy wants me to fuck him, thinking I’d say no.” He drums his fingers on the bartop. “Which means there’s a catch.”

— the house don’t fall (when the bones are good) by bytherirveriwept – explicit / 11.3k words

The reality of Kinn is at times a grasping, hungry thing even when he is standing still.

(Or: Porsche and Kinn are the Theerapanyakun agency’s best team. They live in each other’s pockets and share their deepest secrets. But when Porsche takes on the role of bait in their latest mission, it throws their entire relationship into a spiral.)

— gone was any trace of you by kurtstiel – explicit / 11.1k words

Kinn is looking at Porsche like he’s seen a ghost. Porsche blinks and the haunted expression is gone, Kinn smoothing it over with something neutral, but there’s still something fragile at the edges of it, like a crystal figurine balanced on a ledge. Kinn’s body relaxes in a way that’s purposefully casual, tucking his outstretched foot back onto the bed.

“You were in the bathroom,” Kinn says. He phrases it like an answer rather than a question.

(Or: Porsche left Kinn in their bed with nothing but a note. In the aftermath of the shootout, Kinn can't stop thinking about it.)

— quis custodiet ipsos custode by concernedlily – explicit / 8.1k words

Porsche props his chin on Kinn’s chest, on his favourite spot in the valley between his pecs, and peers up at him. “Tell me? I’ve never seen you have a nightmare like that.”

He toys with the edge of the bandage wrapped awkwardly around Porsche’s shoulder. It’s a knife wound, scored shallow but long down from his collarbone towards Porsche’s nipple, which is certainly in Kinn’s top ten parts of Porsche’s body and probably top five, and not to be endangered under any circumstances. Porsche had tried to treat it himself and Kinn had dragged him to the medical wing and supervised the stitches and the bandaging himself, mentally cursing out the minor family’s men for a crowd of incompetents the whole time. “Deng. He was… the first bodyguard who died for me.”

— cliff jump ‘series by airgiodslv – explicit / 7.3k words

“You know the rules, then?” Kinn asks.

Porsche looks amused, like he can tell how badly Kinn wants to wreck his composure. “No kissing, no marks on you, bubble bath first,” Porsche recites easily. “I read your notes file.”

Kinn is almost certain Porsche isn’t supposed to tell him the escort agency keeps a notes file.

(Or: An AU in which Kinn requests an escort for the night, and gets Porsche.)

— love on the water, love underwater by butterflylungs – explicit / 7.3k words

The golden light of the sun washes over him, rays catching in his dark hair, caressing his skin. Porsche would do unspeakable things for this man, and the fact that he’s been neglecting him in favor of work bothers him more than he can put into words. He misses Kinn with every breath, with every heartbeat, and he wishes he didn’t have to spend so much time away from him.

(Or: A day off, a surprise trip, and the dreams they’ve had to let go.)

— forward is the doing by daltoneering – explicit / 5.5k words

He exhales an acrid lungful, and opens his eyes. Right here, in the electric scarlet of the evening, they had made their choice. Design had shaped them for too long; now, the broken glass on the floor shimmering like a thousand stars to wish upon, Porsche lives by decision.

The door into the bar spills a shadow out into the light of the yard, and Porsche reaches for Kinn with simple instinct: their hands meet in the gloaming, and Kinn folds himself around Porsche’s side like a coat, or a blanket.

(Or: In the red-blue neon of the lights behind Hum Bar, Kinn and Porsche chose each other—and what better way to explore the meaning of that than through devastatingly tender-horny sex?)

— i’m the only one at the end of the day by kinnpornsche (bloodyinkwells) – explicit / 5k words

“I know this is a revolutionary idea, but maybe you could trust your boyfriend to not be cheating on you every time you see him with another man.”

“What is it from?”

“Instead you just assume I’m a slut,” Porsche barks, and then his voice softens. “When I’ve only ever been loyal to you, and you know it.”

(Or: Porsche flirts with someone for a job. Kinn doesn’t take it well. Porsche talks back.)

— no one does it better by midnightfreeway – explicit / 2.8k words

Kinn takes comfort in being in control. Control is power; control is freedom. It allows him to act on his own initiative. It brings him pleasure in a world where danger lurks around every corner. Kinn has no idea who he would be without it. An empty shell of a man, a puppet with someone else pulling the strings.

But it gets tiring, always having to fight for your own survival.

— cravin’ by yeetlegay – explicit / 1.8k words

It’s only when Kinn is two knuckles deep in Porsche’s ass, his teeth buried in the meat of his thigh, that it occurs to Porsche he probably isn’t that straight.

#kinnporschesource #kinnporsche: the series #kinnporsche #kinn x porsche #fic rec #leila.txt #text #leave some kudos!

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