#writing the logistics of a sex scene is hard

[mrspasser]

Two's company, three's a crowd

Sterek fanfic

I'm having writer's block, I'm feeling blue and my period seems to be neverending, so I sat myself down and wrote porn. Not that I really set out to write smut, but I wanted to write something without plot and too much complications. And then this came out: over 7K of smut, lightly sprinkled with possible complications and even the plotbunny decided to hop by. Whatever. Don't judge me.

Read it on A03.

Two's company, three's a crowd

He’s drunk. Not the everything-is-spinning-and-I’m-gonna-throw-up kind, the nice, buzzing kind. However, he’s never hallucinated when drunk before, so that’s new. Luckily it’s a very nice hallucination. Stiles isn’t gonna complain, not when there are red nails tracing teasing patterns on his thigh and equally red lips close to his ear. “What do you think, stud?” the girl asks. It would probably have been a sultry whisper if the music in the frat house wasn’t so loud. Nevertheless, even at normal volume the question sounds plenty suggestive.

Stiles giggles a little at being called ‘stud’. His geeky hipster vibe does relatively well with the college girls, it serves him infinitely better than it did in highschool anyway. The girls at his old school snubbed their pretty little noses at his plaids and Converses. Here, there are girls who dress the same as him to such a degree that Stiles once grabbed the wrong flannel shirt the morning after. When he returned to switch out the shirt, only her roommate was home. Stiles isn’t one to kiss and tell, yet he stayed for two hours instead of the necessary five minutes to make the shirt exchange, if you get what he means. Oh. And he totally told Scott. But Scott doesn’t count. He tells his brother-from-another-mother everything.

It was actually kind of a coincidence that Stiles ended up at this party tonight. He didn’t plan on it, was kind of trying to be a good person and go to bed early, so he wouldn’t be totally knackered for his five hour drive back to Beacon Hills tomorrow for Christmas Break. He just happened to walk across campus when he bumped into one of his project partners and before he knew it, he had a red solo cup in his hand and was chatting up two girls who he thinks he saw in one of his morning classes once. He got to kiss one of them too, the one with the long blond hair and the fancy red nails across from him. She’s not really his type, he’d actually been after her dark haired friend. But her friend already had a boyfriend and this girl, “Lindsay with an a”, proved to be more fun than he initially thought. She kissed like she meant business, that was one thing. And when Stiles found her in another man’s lap after he returned from the bathroom, she surprised him by calling him over. “Stiles, you never told me you had such a hot roommate!” she tittered, wrapping a hand around his wrist to pull him down on the armrest of the slightly ratty loveseat. The leather - or more likely pleather - was sticky with unnamed liquids, not that Stiles really cared. He wasn’t gonna judge someone’s housekeeping skills at a party, or ever, really.

They’d been talking for about an hour before she kindly suggested a game of tonsil hockey, so the topic of Stiles ‘hot roommate’ hadn’t come up yet. Not that he was in the habit of telling girls about Derek first hand; there was only so much competition that a guy like him could put up with. Because Derek was hot. Hot like burning. Supernaturally hot. Those Greek statues in the museum had nothing on him: Derek’s rugged abs put their puny marble abs to shame.  Stiles took stock of the situation in front of him through his slightly alcohol addled mind. Lindsay was sitting comfortably in Derek’s lap, one arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders, while he had an arm around her waist. “You guys know each other?” he asked, adding the ‘intimately’ in his head when he saw the way Derek’s hand disappeared beneath the hem of her top. 

“We do,” Lindsay admitted with a smile. Derek just arched one cocky eyebrow, yet after almost four months of sharing a room with him, Stiles was close to fluent in eyebrow speak. He had to, because some days it was the only way his roommate communicated. At first, Stiles thought he’d gotten the short end of the stick when he was assigned Derek as his roommate. The guy may look hot, but he came across as a grumpy asshole, especially those first few weeks. Eventually, Stiles liked to say, he got Derek to cave to the Stilinski charm and they actually became quite good friends. Derek could be a cocky bastard, but he was also lowkey funny and a lot smarter than his jock looks suggested. The guy actually read Homer for fun, Stiles even checked if he wasn’t reading it for class. To top it off, his snark game was on par with Stiles’, which was something he didn’t often encounter. In short, Derek was a great guy and there were a lot of girls at their campus who agreed with Stiles. Lindsay confirmed his suspicions of them when she told him: “Our Derek here was looking for a repeat of our first meeting, but I said I already had plans with you.” She playfully tapped him on the nose with a finger. “Isn’t that right, Stiles?” Their make out session had been getting a little steamy, until Stiles unfortunately had to take a little break to empty his bladder. Beer always ran right through him. He’d been ready to cut his losses when he saw Lindsay sitting with Derek, but the girl had other plans. “However, I thought that maybe you boys could share.”

Plans that make Stiles’ jaw drop, especially when she whispers in his ear and calls him stud.

“Aww, I made him blush!” Lindsay leans over in Derek’s lap and puts her hands on the sides of Stiles’ face. His cheeks are indeed burning. She pulls him closer until she can drop a kiss on his nose. “You’re so cute! Isn’t he cute, Derek?” Derek is definitely feeling up the underside of her breasts, so that might be why he agrees so easily. Or he might be a bit high; Stiles thinks his roommate’s eyes are a little red, though it’s kinda hard to tell with the blinking Christmas lights all over the room. He’s feeling a little out of it himself, if he’s honest. He can’t believe what’s happening, that is, if what he thinks is happening, is really happening.  Lindsay catches his lower lip between her teeth, almost making Stiles topple over. He has to catch himself by putting his hands out, one ends up high on Derek’s leg, the other on Lindsay’s hip. The next thing he knows, Lindsay is licking into his mouth and he’s making out with the girl while she’s sitting in Derek’s lap. “I think we can have a lot of fun, the three of us. What do you think, cutie?” she asks, punctuating her question with little nips on his lower lip.

“Oh my god, you’re serious?” Stiles can’t help but blurt out, which only makes her laugh more. He moves his hand on her waist and bumps into Derek’s hand, which is still underneath her shirt. His eyes go wide when all the implications hit him. “Oh. Wow .” 

Lindsay kisses him again and then she turns to Derek, who easily returns her kiss. “Alright boys, here’s how it’s gonna go.” She gets up from Derek’s lap, trailing her fingers down both their jaws. “I’m gonna go tell my friend where I’m going and then we are going back to your room to have a good time, the three of us.”

Stiles stares after her swaying hips in a daze as she makes her way towards the kitchen, where her friend supposedly is. He snaps out of it when Derek suddenly says: “I had sex with her a couple of weeks ago.” 

“Yeah, I figured,” Stiles mumbles, looking back at his roommate and noticing he’s now almost sitting in Derek’s lap himself. “Uh…” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Is this… Are we…?” Are we really doing this, he wants to ask. Because it’s one thing to sometimes fantasize about your incredibly hot roommate, but actually having a threesome with said roommate is a whole other ball game. Heh. Balls . Oh, and now he’s staring at his roommate. Who’s sitting way too close. Or, perhaps Stiles is the one doing that, sliding half of the armrest and almost landing in Derek’s lap.

“I’m bi,” Derek suddenly blurts out and his ears turn pink in the most adorable way. It’s the first sign he shows that he’s not all that suave about this; it’s comforting.

“Oh, thank god, me too,” Stiles rushes out to say, even though he’s pretty sure Derek knows that. “And you’ve already seen my dick, so…”  It's simultaneously the hottest and most embarrassing memory he has of this school year. Or his life, even. Lydia changing her clothes right in front of him in junior year can’t hold a candle to getting caught jerking off by his extremely gorgeous roommate. Derek had stopped dead just inside the door, staring at him with this unreadable look in his eyes. Stiles froze, one hand on his dick and his other hand gripping his balls, his shirt rucked up on his chest. "I'm going to take a piss," Derek had said after a few tremendously awkward seconds, the words clipped. "You better be done before I get back." He turned around and yanked the door back open. "And put a sock on the door the next time, Jesus." Stiles came like a freight train not two minutes later.

And now his hot roommate is telling him he's not just into girls but into guys too?!

The girl is back before Stiles can process this. If she has second thoughts about their plans, they're unnoticeable. "My friend knows I’ll be hanging out with you guys, let’s go." She tosses her hair over her shoulder as she turns, showing them her frankly magnificent ass.

Derek grins at him dopily. He’s definitely not completely sober. “She’s bossy.”

Stiles grins back. “I know, right? She reminds me of my friend Lydia, in highschool. I had a major crush on her for years.” They both get up and follow Lindsay out the door. “Man, I fucking love college!”

Their dorm isn’t too far from the frat house, but it’s far enough for Stiles to properly freak out. He’s never had a threesome, how is this supposed to go? The only threesomes he watched on the internet were with two girls and one guy. Now there’s two guys and one girl. Are they supposed to direct all their attention to her, or will there also be some boy-on-boy action? Oh my god , he’s gonna see Derek’s dick. Well, he’s seen Derek’s dick before, they practically live on top of each other most of the time. But he hasn’t seen Derek’s dick when it is standing to attention, not full on, at least. Stiles has always politely ignored any signs of morning wood in his roommate’s boxers. And now he’s gonna touch Derek’s dick. Possibly. Probably. “I really have to stop saying ‘Derek’s dick’,” he mutters. Even if it’s just inside his own head.

“What?” Derek looks at him quizzically as he holds the door open for Lindsay and for Stiles to follow.

“Nothing, nothing,” Stiles rushes to say, relieved to take the hand Lindsay is holding out for him. She molds herself against his side, giving him something else to focus on. Like the way she sucks a kiss into his throat. “Third floor,” he gasps, gesturing towards the stairwell.

“I remember,” she answers, with a flirty wink for Derek.  Stiles tries to think of where he was while those two were getting it on, but it’s futile. He’s been sexiled by Derek a number of times; he assumes the sock on the door doesn’t mean his roommate was having some quality time with his right hand, not when Derek looks the way he does. By which Stiles means hot. If Stiles can score in college, Derek definitely can. It doesn’t really matter anyway, because in a few moments he will be getting it on, with two people at the same time. Oh my god . The girl excuses herself to the bathroom when they pass it in the hallway. “I’ll be right with you,” she suggests with a flirty smile, before disappearing behind the door of the communal toilets.

Stiles is opening their door with his key when Derek rounds on him. “Quit freaking out!”

“Wha-? Excuse me!”

“You’re freaking out. You’ll scare her off or something.”

Stiles actually laughs at that. “Dude. She’s been running the show all night. I think she’s confident enough for both of us. Or, the three of us.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek follows him inside their room. “So, you’re scared of her? Is that it? Does she intimidate you?”

“Hah. If anything, that’s a plus.” Stiles thinks of Lydia, who was the hottest and smartest person in his school. She was, like, the perfect girl. At least in his head. Being intimidated by someone didn’t exactly put Stiles off. If anything, fear boners were a thing.

Derek leans up against his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He shakes his head and Stiles thinks he can detect a slightly fond smile. He has a strong hunch that Derek is checking up on him, in his own rude way. “You can be such a weirdo, Stilinski.”

“Sure,” Stiles admits freely, with an amical shrug. “But it has a certain charm, doesn’t it?” Derek doesn’t answer, not verbally at least. His eyebrows give off a message that Stiles likes to interpret as ‘you’re right, but I don’t want to admit it out loud’. He’s seen it before, for instance when they’re discussing the merits of different Doritos flavors. Or when Stiles argues that socks are the first thing you put on when dressing, not last. He gets cold feet easily, that doesn’t mean he’s not right. “So…” Stiles wants to ask Derek for tips, or directions, or anything that gives him any idea on what to do and how to act when Lindsay enters the room in a minute. He has no idea how to ask that without sounding stupid. From out in the hall he hears the distinctive squeak that signals the closing of the bathroom door. There’s no time for questions now, it’s time to jump into action. Stiles swallows audibly. He watches Derek rifle through the bottom drawer of his nightstand, where he takes out a familiar tin. “Oh, that’ll help,” Stiles sighs in relief.

“Oh, good idea!” Lindsay proclaims as she walks into the room and spots the joint Derek now holds up between his fingers.

Derek offers her the joint and lights it for her, while Stiles quickly locks the door. Their RA will probably see having a girl over through his fingers, but Stiles is not looking to get busted for smoking pot. Not tonight.

When he turns back, Derek has his arms around Lindsay and she’s blowing smoke in his mouth. They kiss, smoke escaping around their faces. Before Stiles can feel left out, Lindsay turns and beckons him over to give him the same treatment.  Okay, this, Stiles can do. He slots into place, with Lindsay snaking one arm behind his shoulders, her fingers coming up in his hair. He meets her lips and breathes the smoke in, making sure to blow it out slowly through his nose. He places his hands on her curvy waist, feeling the fabric of Derek’s henley against her back. Derek has his hands on her hips, so Stiles lets his fingers wander upwards, rucking up her top a bit and moving his hands towards her breasts. Lindsay arches her back approvingly and Stiles takes the opportunity to quickly move his hands beneath her top, pushing it up until it exposes her bra. She’s wearing a lacy lilac number and Stiles hopes she has the panties to match. “Pretty,” he breathes in between kisses, gently massaging the globe of her breasts.

“Yeah?” Lindsay smiles. “You like what you see?”

“Very much,” Stiles admits, because now Derek is sucking her neck from behind and it hits him that he has two very pretty people within hands’ reach. His dick twitches in his jeans, eager to continue. He pulls a little at her top, now bunched up high on her chest. “Can we take this off?” She nods and lifts her arms obligingly. Stiles eases her top over her head and arms, taking the joint from her before it sets fire to her clothes or something. Derek has taken advantage of the situation and has one hand fitted between her skin and her bra, cupping her breast. His other hand is splayed low on her stomach, his pinky finger already disappearing behind her waistband. 

“You too,” Lindsay says, her voice breathy from Derek’s ministrations. Stiles takes a deep hit of the joint and offers it back to her, proceeding to get rid of his flannel and T-shirt. He’d feel self conscious about getting naked, knowing he’s plenty fit, but can’t hold a candle to Derek’s superior physique, yet Lindsay is humming appreciatively and running a hand across his chest, down to his stomach.

Stiles ducks back in for a kiss, putting his hand on the breast Derek isn’t holding. Her skin is warm and soft and Stiles follows the impulse to drop kisses on the swell of her breasts. Derek’s hand disappears and a moment later there’s no more lilac lace separating her skin from the air and Stiles’ lips. She gasps when he closes his lips around her nipple and her breathy “yes” is all the incentive he needs.

He’s vaguely aware of Derek and Lindsay kissing above his head, but he’s more than happy to give his attention to the soft flesh before him. She’s wonderfully sensitive and it’s not long before she writhes and squirms between them. A sharp gasp makes him look up and then down, to see Lindsay has dropped her head back against Derek’s shoulder and his hand has now completely disappeared inside her pants. Stiles decides to help out and quickly pops the button of her jeans, working her zipper down to give Derek more space. Her panties are made of the same lilac lace as her bra and he moves his hands around her full hips to ease her jeans down. They’re tight, but he pushes them down bit by bit, kissing the creamy skin he reveals. His lips also brush Derek’s wrist, which is partially covered by lilac lace. “This is so hot,” he groans softly, raptured by the sight of Derek’s hand moving against her pussy. 

Lindsay’s wearing black ankle boots with a zipper on the side, which are easy enough to remove. Stiles makes quick work of her socks and pants and then the girl is completely naked between them, save for her pretty panties. He stays for a moment on his knees in front of her, running his hands up and down her legs gently while he enjoys the view of two of Derek’s fingers pushing in behind the lace. The fabric is stained dark between her legs and the soft sopping sound makes his dick throb in his jeans. 

He surges upwards, his hands moving up along her body until he reaches her face and can tilt it towards him in a deep kiss. From the corner of his eyes he can see Derek, watching them through hooded eyes. The joint is hanging limply from between his lips, the tip no longer glowing red. He breaks the kiss with Lindsay, panting a little. “Let me get that, big guy,” he mumbles, carefully taking the joint from Derek’s lips. He has to move away a little to deposit the thing on one of the desks, but it gives Lindsay the space to turn around and start undressing Derek. He cooperates easily, quickly shrugging out of his henley. Lindsay moves her hands over his chest, raking her red nails through the short hairs. She kisses Derek, pressing her breasts against his chest. Stiles moves in behind them, grabbing her hips and pressing his still clothed dick up against her ass. He should perhaps do something about that, he thinks vaguely, and starts undoing his belt. His pants follow suit and a moment later he steps out of the puddle of his jeans. 

“Let’s take this to the bed,” Derek suggests quietly and nods towards his bed behind them. It’s the most logical choice, because he is the one who actually made his bed that morning. Stiles’ bed is still a mess of blankets and pillows. He can’t really be bothered by it, because Lindsay pulls him with her and they both drop down onto the mattress to watch Derek get rid of the last of his clothes. Stiles can’t help but bite his lip at the sight of Derek dressed in nothing but tight black boxers in front of him. For a moment, they make eye contact and it’s not awkward like Stiles feared, but heady and promising. He isn’t sure what the promise is, but he’s sure he’ll find out. 

Lindsay takes control again, pushing him on his back and slipping her fingers behind the elastic of his boxer shorts. She doesn’t ask him if it’s okay, probably trusting him to speak up if she does something he doesn’t like or want. Stiles isn’t going to protest, not when she wraps a hand around his hard dick under the watchful eye of Derek, who still stands by the side of the bed. He doesn’t know what he finds hotter: the way Lindsay licks her hand to slick up his dick or the way Derek’s eyes follow the proceedings with obvious interest. When Derek palms himself through his boxers and groans softly, Stiles knows which way the scale tips.

When Derek drops to his knees by the bed, Stiles thinks for a second that he’s gonna get a blowjob from his roommate, but it’s Lindsay who circles her tongue around the head of his dick, while Derek swiftly pulls her underwear off and ducks his head between her legs. It takes a bit of maneuvering from the three of them, but they manage to find a position in which everyone can be fairly comfortable. 

The blowjob is sloppy and more than a little uncoordinated, yet Stiles thinks Lindsay can be excused by account of the effort Derek is clearly putting in. The girl is moaning up a storm, evidently loving it. She gives up on his dick and he moves around to suck her nipple into his mouth, pinching the other one gently between his fingers. It’s not long before she convulses underneath him, giving voice to her orgasm with a drawn out groan. 

“God, that was good,” she pants, dropping her head back against the duvet. Derek emerges from between her legs with a self-satisfied smirk that Stiles can’t really fault him for. His roommate wipes his mouth with his hand, reaching up Lindsay’s prone form until he can drop a kiss between her breasts. She lazily drops her hand on his head, ruffling his hair.  When she looks up at Stiles, it’s easy to shuffle down and catch her lips in a kiss. She cups his cheek to hold him in place. “Sorry about that, stud, I was a little distracted.”

He chuckles, momentarily forgetting that his dick is still hard and wanting. “That’s okay. I think I’d react the same in your place.”

She smiles knowingly and moves her hand to pat his shoulder. “Why don’t you sit back a little and I’ll make it up to you.”

He scoots back obligingly and so does Derek, giving Lindsay the room to get on her knees between Stiles’ legs when he sits with his back to the headboard. She hardly wastes any time to sink her lips around his dick, making Stiles buck his hips. “Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, his hands petting her head and shoulders in apology. In response, she presses down with her hand on his hip to tell him to not do it again. She’s not moving off his dick, so he guesses he’s forgiven.

Now that Derek isn’t eating her out, her blowjob skills are remarkably better. She can’t take him all the way in, but she makes clever use of her hands and she has a wicked tongue. When Stiles feels his orgasm coming on too quickly, he signals her to take it down a notch and she obliges without question. Lindsay looks back over her shoulder to where Derek is running his hands over her back, legs and ass. “Why don’t you join in from your end?” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Derek drawls and leans over to open the top drawer of his nightstand. He pulls out some condoms and lube, making quick work of getting himself ready. Stiles watches him get on his knees behind Lindsay, gently moving her in the right position and then lining himself up. She moans around Stiles’ dick when Derek enters her and Stiles moans too, wondering what he did to be rewarded with such a view. Derek holds her firmly by her hips, his abs contracting beautifully as he undulates his hips.

Stiles closes his eyes to the ministrations of Lindsay’s hands, lips and tongue and the feel of the girl’s body rocking back and forth on Derek’s slow thrusts. He doesn’t think it can get any better than this, until he opens his eyes and Derek’s hooded gaze locks in on his. Stiles comes almost without warning; he manages to push Lindsay’s head up at the last second, warm ropes of cum shooting up his stomach. Some of it hits her cheek and he quickly wipes it off with his thumb. “Sorry,” he offers, feeling sheepish.

Lindsay crawls forward, giving him a kiss. “How are you going to make up for it?” she asks with a sly grin. Stiles looks between her and Derek, who is now sitting back on his feet, no longer fucking Lindsay because she moved away from him. Shit. He didn’t ruin everything, did he? Derek doesn’t look all that bothered, though, more expectant, like he wants to see what they’ll do next. What can they do next? Maybe switch positions? Stiles will need about twenty minutes before he’s ready to go again, but he could eat her out while she gives Derek a blowjob? Would that be okay? Before he can make the suggestion, Lindsay speaks up. “You’re gonna eat me out until I come again.”

Stiles gapes at her. “Okay?” He catches sight of Derek behind her, his head cocked in question. Checking in on him, again. Stiles rallies. “Yeah, okay! Sounds good.” And he means it, he’s certainly willing to do it. He’s just not used to the way this girl takes matters into her own hands. “I’ll just…” He gestures vaguely towards the entirety of the bed, which is very crowded with the three of them. 

Lindsay takes the lead, again. She kisses him and simultaneously makes him move out of the way, so she can take his place. She nestles herself against the pillows and spreads her legs for Stiles to take his place between them. It’s only then that he’s aware of Derek behind him, who’s sitting at the foot of the bed. His roommate is following the proceedings with interest, one hand moving slowly up and down his cock. The condom is discarded next to him. Stiles swallows, wanting to touch but not knowing if he’s allowed. So far he’s only touched Derek in a practical way, nothing deliberate.

“Kiss him.” Stiles whips his head back towards the head of the bed. Lindsay grins at him playfully, reclined against the pillows. She lifts her leg and puts the ball of her foot against his chest. “Go on, kiss him. I want to see you guys kiss.” She pushes lightly and Derek is already close, Stiles can feel the heat of his body against his skin. 

Derek lifts his hand to cup Stiles' cheek, bringing him closer still. “This okay?” he whispers, waiting for his nod to press their lips together. 

Stiles has known he was bi since he was 14. His first sexual encounter was a year later, with a boy: kissing for a drunk dare at a house party led to shared handjobs behind the shed in the backyard. There were more girls than boys after that, the lion share of the notches on his bedpost not acquired until after he enrolled in college. And now he’s kissing Derek, who kisses a lot gentler than Stiles was expecting. His lips are soft, a stark contrast to the ever present stubble. There’s a hint of tongue, just barely touching his lips. Stiles loves it, finds himself sinking into the kiss, into Derek’s touch. He shuffles closer for a better angle, slots their knees together so they’ll fit. When their tongues finally slide together, Stiles almost whimpers. Derek reacts by holding him firmer, the hand on his waist flexing. 

When he feels another set of hands on him, ones with pointy red nails that trail teasingly down his chest, he almost startles. He'd completely forgotten about Lindsay, as lost as he was in Derek’s touch. “So hot,” she whispers in his ear. “You boys are getting me so hot.” Stiles lets her break their kiss, claiming Derek’s lips for herself. Derek doesn’t stop touching him, the hand on his side sliding down to palm his ass. Stiles shifts a little into the touch, so Derek’s fingers slip into his cleft, close to where he suddenly knows he wants him. He slides his own hand down the inside of Derek’s thigh, tracing the warm, softly textured skin of his balls with the pads of his fingers.

However, there’s a lady present and she deftly reminds him of his duty to make it up to her by guiding his free hand towards her pussy. The wet slide of his fingers between her folds piques his interest and he easily lets her guide his head between her legs when she lies back again. He puts her legs over his shoulders and starts by kissing the insides of her thighs, mixed with small kitten licks over her clit. He plays with her like that until she starts squirming. “Getting impatient, huh?” he teases, resting his weight on one elbow so he can rub his fingers along her folds, catching her clit between his knuckles with each move up and down.

“She’s not the only one,” Derek remarks from behind Stiles, where he’s sitting astride one of Stiles’ legs. He’s been running his hands up and down Stiles’ legs, occasionally giving his ass a firm squeeze, but that’s about it.

“Oh, shit.” Stiles realizes suddenly that Derek must be feeling left out. “Uhm…” He wriggles in place, pulling one knee up underneath him and meaning to get up, but Lindsay holds him in place with her hand in his hair. And Derek…

“Can I…?” Derek asks, his thumb skirting softly along Stiles’ now exposed rim. “I won’t… I mean, just my fingers,” he adds, sounding hesitant but eager. 

“Yes,” Stiles immediately answers, arching his back in anticipation. He’s rewarded by the press of the flat of Derek’s thumb against his hole. It's very hard to concentrate on the job he's doing when Derek is massaging his rim and slowly adding lube until his finger slides inside without resistance. His other hand is massaging Stiles’ ass, a firm kneading that somehow compliments the slow slide of Derek’s finger inside him. Unconsciously Stiles times his licking with Derek’s movements, adding his own finger to Lindsay's wet velvet heat. He adds another finger when Derek does, groaning against the girl’s pussy, his own enjoyment copied in her moans. Derek picks up the pace, curling his fingers inside Stiles and starts fingerfucking him in earnest. Stiles cups his hand, his ring finger and middle finger pressing up inside her, and sucks on her clit. He pushes back against Derek’s hand, wanting more but also trying not to get jostled too much so he can concentrate on the girl in front of him.

Lindsay moans louder, pulling his hair. “Don't stop, don’t stop,” she urges and Stiles doubles his efforts. Mercifully, Derek slows down a little, settling on slow, deep drags of his fingers that make Stiles' toes tingle. He doesn’t know if it’s been twenty minutes yet, but his dick is almost fully hard again and the friction he finds against the bedding starts to lack severely. He wants, no, he needs more. But first… Stiles rubs his fingers in a tiny circular motion, pressing up and licking broad, quick strokes over her clit until Lindsay clenches his head between her thighs and comes with a guttural groan. He laps up the excess moist until she gets too sensitive and kisses her folds one last time before crawling up a little and settling down with his head on her soft stomach. She scratches the hair behind his ear, mumbling some unintelligible praise or even thanks. He would laugh, but is distracted by Derek, who gently guides his knees under him so his ass sticks up in the air. When Derek sidles up behind him, his legs pressing against the back of Stiles’ thighs, he thinks for a second his roommate is gonna fuck him. But Derek said he wouldn’t and Stiles trusts him to check in with him if he wanted to get back on that. There’s the click of lube, a slicking motion and then Derek’s large hands settle on the sides of his ass and Stiles feels the hard, wet heat of his dick slide along his cleft. The head catches a little on his rim, but Derek doesn’t push in and continues to slide his dick between Stiles’ ass cheeks. Derek is searching for his own pleasure, angling his cock down to rub against the back of Stiles’ balls. Stiles tries to press his thighs together as best as he can, wanting to provide Derek with the friction he’s looking for. It works, if the quiet moans he hears from Derek are any indication. Stiles mouths idly at Lindsay’s skin, panting with the effort of keeping his legs firm but the rest of his body pliant underneath Derek’s thrusts. The feeling of Derek’s cock sliding between his legs, hitting his balls with every movement, makes Stiles wish he could put a hand on his own dick, but he’s sort of pinned against Lindsay right now and has no other choice than to just take it. 

Derek reaches his climax a few thrusts later, spilling his seed between Stiles’ legs and nearly collapsing on top of him. He presses a kiss against Stiles’ back and then, as if he can read his mind, reaches around to wrap his hand around Stiles’ dick. “Oh, fuck yes,” he groans appreciatively, bucking into the tight clench of Derek’s hand. Derek sets a punishing rhythm from the start and it doesn’t take long before Stiles comes for the second time that evening.

They collapse in a tangle of limbs, Stiles and Derek each on a side of Lindsay so they don’t crush her. Stiles wouldn’t have minded to lie beneath Derek’s weight a little longer, but the hand his roommate still has curled around the back of his leg, just beneath the curve of his ass, makes up for it a little.

“This was fun,” he sighs contentedly, blowing out a breath against the side of Lindsay’s boob. He pretends to gnaw at the squishy flesh, making her yelp in mock horror. The girl giggles and Derek flexes his hand on his leg, making Stiles realize it's a mess of lube and sperm down there. “Ugh, I need a shower.”

“And I need clean sheets,” Derek adds, sounding a little put out about it.

Somewhere in the room a poppy song starts playing. “Oh, that’s my phone,” Lindsay says, pushing herself up. Derek and Stiles roll away from her, trying not to fall out of bed (Derek) or flinch because his back comes into contact with the cold wall (Stiles). Lindsay unearths her phone from her jeans pocket and answers with a cheerful “Hi!”. She bends over to grab her lilac panties from the floor. “I'm totally fine. It was fun.”

“That’s an understatement,” Stiles stage whispers to Derek, even though he said the same thing only minutes ago. Derek merely raises an eyebrow in response, not bothering to hide his content smirk.

They idly watch how Lindsay dresses herself, talking on the phone to her friend. It’s kind of mesmerizing to see how she manages to put her bra on while clutching the phone between her chin and shoulder. “I’ll be right there, see you soon,” Lindsay says and ends the call. Stiles pushes himself up when she puts the phone in her back pocket. 

He grimaces when he feels the cold wet spot against his butt, but ignores it otherwise. “Can I walk you home? Call you an Uber?” Maybe he should’ve gotten his ass out of bed sooner, but he was kinda comfy and it only just now occurred to him that of the three of them, Lindsay is the only one who needs to get home. 

“No need, cutie,” Lindsay says, leaning over the bed to press a kiss to his lips. “My friend lives on the floor above you guys, I’m gonna crash with her.” She turns to kiss Derek. “This was fun, we should do it again.”

Derek smirks and lets his hand trail meaningfully down her chest, but doesn’t say anything. Stiles returns the kiss she blows him with a smile. He leans back on his arms to watch her unlock the door and disappear out into the hallway. 

Derek makes use of the freed up space to move more fully onto his back, intending to get comfortable. He regrets it immediately and makes a face. “Gross. The sheets are all wet.”

Stiles chuckles lightly, feeling more than a little self-conscious. “Sorry about that.”

“Nah.” Derek waves a dismissive hand. “At least some of it is mine.”

“Doubt it,” Stiles admits with a grimace. “Most of that is sticking down the back of my legs.”

There’s a moment of total silence in which their eyes lock and then they both burst out laughing. Derek swings his legs off the bed and lets the momentum get him up, offering Stiles a hand with a grin. “Shower?” 

“Shower,” Stiles agrees. They slip into some clothes and make their way to the communal showers on their floor in companionable silence. It’s almost like every other night when they end up going to bed at the same time, if Stiles ignores the fact that he’s scrubbing Derek’s spunk out of his leg hair. It’s not something he really thought about earlier this night, but things could’ve turned sour with Derek real easily if it all hadn’t worked out the way it did. Stiles never would’ve dreamed he would ever end up in bed with Derek, thinking Derek was way out of his league, if not straight. He certainly learned something new about his roommate in this respect. He’s really glad things are still okay between them, he would’ve hated to lose Derek as a friend.

Back in their room Stiles lets himself fall face first on his bed and wriggles himself underneath his blanket. If there’s a reason why he hardly ever makes his bed, this is it: he can just dive right in.

“Scoot over.” Derek pushes at his shoulder.

“Huh?” Stiles lifts his head from his pillow just enough to look at his roommate. Derek is standing next to his bed dressed in his sleeping pants, chest bare. Just like he always sleeps. In his own bed, across the room.

Derek pulls the comforter up, gesturing for Stiles to move over. He has his pillow underneath his arm. “I’m not gonna change my sheets in the middle of the night. I wanna sleep, so your bed it is.”

“You want to share?” Stiles stares wide eyed at his roommate, who gives him a deadpan look. “Right. Yeah. Sure. Duh,” he stammers. Then he rolls towards the wall, making room for Derek who slides between the sheets like it’s something he does all the time. He settles on his back, with Stiles on his side next to him. Derek lifts his hand to the light switch above Stiles’ bed and the room turns dark. It’s a bit odd to feel nervous about sharing a bed with your attractive roommate, when the guy rubbed himself off between your thighs only an hour before. Yet Stiles can’t help it. They crossed a line tonight and he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Derek sighs and probably rolls his eyes too, it’s just that Stiles can’t see it in the dark, but he knows he did. “Will you just go to sleep? You're overthinking shit and it's loud.”

“I’m not,” Stiles sputters, feeling called out.

“You are,” Derek sighs. “Just quit it. I thought you always said I was the one who thinks too much, or something.”

Stiles shakes his head against the pillow. “No, you’re brooding. That’s different. And how come you’re not overthinking anything right now?”

“I just had some really good sex. It helps.” There has to be an obnoxious grin that accompanies that answer, hidden by the dark.

Stiles hits Derek’s shoulder with his flat hand. “I was there, you ass.”

“No, I distinctly remember it being your ass.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles can’t help it, he snorts in a definitely not sexy way and then he dissolves into laughter, pressing his forehead against the meat of Derek’s shoulder. He can feel the tiny shocks of movement that mean Derek’s laughing with him. Or at him. Both’s okay, really, because it helps to take Stiles’ nerves down. When their laughter dies down, Stiles stays pressed up against the side of Derek’s arm. Derek is nice and warm, it’s a good place to be.

“So, that was your first threesome, right?” his roommate asks casually. Stiles thinks he turns his head to look down at Stiles, but he isn’t gonna look up to check.

He nods against Derek’s shoulder. “Yeah. For you?”

“Nah.” Well, that’s not surprising. “First time with a man and a woman, though.”

Stiles smiles. “That’s actually kinda nice to hear. Makes me feel like all my newbie fumblings were maybe less obvious.”

Derek jostles him a little with his shoulder. “Shut up. You did fine.”

“I did make her come,” Stiles hums. 

“And me,” Derek agrees easily. Stiles blushes so hard that he’s glad that the lights are off. Though perhaps Derek can feel the sudden burn of his cheeks against his arm.

“Yeah, well, right back at ya,” Stiles answers with a slightly nervous stammer. 

Derek rolls to his side, facing Stiles. The change of position has Stiles facing Derek’s pecs, he can feel the chest hair slightly tickling his nose. He can’t make himself move away, arguing inside his head that he’s comfortable beneath the comforter and doesn’t want to move for that reason alone.

“What was your favorite part?” 

It’s a question that Stiles should probably answer in a more ‘bro’ fashion, say something like ‘when we filled her from both ends’, but what actually comes out is: “Kissing you.” He huffs a shy laugh. “I mean, the orgasms were nice too, don’t get me wrong, but… I really liked kissing you. You’re a great kisser.”

“Yeah?” Derek’s first response sounds a bit smug, but then he rubs a warm hand up Stiles’ arm and his next words are a lot more subdued. “I liked that too.”

He forgets he’s practically hiding in Derek’s chest hair and looks up. “You did?”

Derek continues rubbing his arm and shrugs slightly. “Well, yeah. Of course I did.”

Stiles would’ve never guessed - or dared to hope - that kissing his roommate was something Derek enjoyed. But now that that’s out there… “Wanna do it again?”

Derek hums quietly, his hand moving up over Stiles’ shoulder, across his collarbone and then gently cupping his cheek. “Sure.” Warm lips press against his. There’s that stubble again, the gentle exploration of his mouth, the ease with which Stiles loses himself to it. 

They kiss until Stiles has to yawn. “Sorry,” he mumbles, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. 

There’s a peck on his forehead and then he gets tucked into Derek’s side. “Good night, Stiles.”

Stiles drives back the next day to Beacon Hills on about four hours of sleep, three large coffees, the music turned up all the way to ten and the windows rolled down. He smiles the whole way home. He has a new story for Scott and what a story it is!

[veronicaphoenix]

zutto — chapter eight | wc: 5.7k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Lia and Noah go to couples therapy. Noah and Lia spend a cozy evening in her studio. Reading time: 22mins. aprox.

Tags and trigger warnings: therapy, talks of mental health, ptsd, anxiety, insecurities, self-doubt, mentions of parents' neglect, abandonment, mentions of medication and lia's overdose, mentions of lia's abusive relationship with mitch, mentions of alcohol intake, talks of sex, implied sexual scenarios that include oral sex (female receiving) and protected sex. The rest is pure fluff, noah and lia being totally madly in love with each other and being supportive of each other's works. There's blindfolding going on in this chapter but it's not in a sexual scenario. If I'm missing sth, let me know. The therapy scene took me ages to write.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

“Have you found any hobby; any activity that helps soothe your anxiety?”

Lia processed Dr. Reynolds question, thinking back over the past few days: rejoining her long-missed yoga classes, meeting Emery for coffee on Thursday, catching up with the BO crew to discuss tour logistics and merch-related stuff, drawing, packing for Japan…

After a brief pause, Lia replied, 

“Sex.”

As soon as the word left her lips, her face flushed. Sitting next to her in the other armchair, Noah remained still, his eyes wide in surprise at her response, though he didn't look directly at her. His cheeks were tinged pink as well.

Dr. Reynolds immediately noticed their reactions, especially the way Noah quickly avoided eye contact.

“Okay, there’s no reason to feel embarrassed,” she reassured them, raising her hands slightly from her desk, which separated her from the young couple. “Sex is something totally normal and natural, and it’s great for our mental health and well-being.” She waited a few seconds until she saw Noah’s shoulders relax and Lia let out a sigh. “Tell me, Lia, how do you feel when you’re physically intimate with Noah?”

Lia raised an eyebrow while still curled up in the armchair.  

“Mentally, emotionally,” Dr. Reynolds clarified, a genuine soft smile on her lips.

“Umm,” Lia’s mind wandered to their first time—both drunk and needy for each other. She remembered it had felt good, but she didn’t want to dwell on that night, since it was followed by the worst weeks of her life. Instead, she thought about the last few days, about every time Noah had covered her with his body or laid her down on the sofa, his face sinking between her legs. She had never put into words how it felt, aside from when Noah asked if she liked what he was doing to her, or the previous night, when she’d been sitting on his lap, arms and legs wrapped around him, and he had asked if that posture felt good. She had breathlessly muttered in his ear that it did, “it feels so good, Noah.”

“It feels good,” she started. 

Better than that. But she didn’t feel comfortable enough to say to her therapist the same she’d told Emery two days ago when they’d met. “It feels like everything’s okay. I feel loved, and I feel safe.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded in understanding. Her dark brown eyes shifted to Noah, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

“What about you, Noah?”

Noah cleared his throat.

“Uh, I—”

Fuck. Did he really have to talk about it to that woman? It was hard enough to put into words what he felt, let alone say it out loud to a stranger. Still, he wasn’t there just to sit comfortably in that chair, listening to Dr. Reynolds and Lia’s difficult answers. He was there to communicate. Lia had made the effort, and his heart had fluttered when he heard her say how loved and safe he made her feel. The least he could do was the same.  

He replayed images from the day before in his mind: her skin against his, the way she wrapped around him, how warm she felt, the look in her eyes when he flipped them both so he could be on top, thrusting deep inside her.

“It feels like….” He swallowed, avoiding direct eye contact with the therapist. “I’ve always felt that something was missing, and… After things got better between us, I… I felt complete.” He wasn’t talking only about sex. “I feel utterly happy when I’m with her, not just for myself but for her, too. I know I was… I know I am making her happy.” 

Well, that sounded cheesy as fuck, Noah.

Dr. Reynolds gave a gentle nod.

“I think it’s clear that you and Lia have a deep connection. Would you say it’s been like this since you first met?”

Grateful for the shift in topic, he answered quickly. 

“Absolutely,” he said, with certainty. He’d been fighting everyone from the very beginning to show the world that no one knew Lia like he did. Therefore, no one could take care of her the way he could. 

He expected Lia to echo his response, but her mind was somewhere else.  

“I feel so guilty,” she began, directing her words to Dr. Reynolds. “I’ve loved him since I was a kid. All those times I scared off his girlfriends, I was being selfish and a coward. Then, Mitch came and…” she sniffed but held back tears. “I’ve… carried this fear with me my whole life. A fear of never being enough, of not deserving love. I know I always had Noah, but even when I did, I was convinced that it was all some cruel joke, and that as soon as I finally had him, life would rip him away. I couldn’t bear that thought. So, I buried my feelings, blocked them out; I forced myself to believe it wasn’t real, that I wasn’t in love with him. I told myself for months that it was just infatuation, that he had bigger things to focus on and worry about. The band has always meant everything to him and…”

“That’s not—” Noah started, but Dr. Reynolds raised a gentle hand to quiet him. 

“I kept pushing him away, again and again. I know I hurt him. I know he loves me, but the guilt is suffocating. I’ve put him through so much.”

Dr. Reynolds listened intently, her eyes calm and steady, letting the silence linger after Lia’s words. It was a weighty silence, one that felt like a deep exhale after too many years of holding it all in. Lia’s hands trembled slightly in her lap.

 “That weight has always been there,” she continued through clenched teeth. “I’ve always sabotaged things before they could go wrong, merely because I was convinced they would go wrong.”

Noah shifted beside her. He wanted to reach out, to hold her hand, but the heaviness of the moment kept him still. He hated hearing her talk like that, as if she was the villain in their story. He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her she didn’t need to feel guilty, but something in Dr. Reynolds’ gaze made him hold back once again.

“Lia, what you’re describing is a fear many people experience when they’ve been hurt before or when they deeply value something. We’ve talked about this, remember? It’s called self-preservation. You and Noah have been friends since you were kids. You’ve been attached to him most of your life. He’s been your constant, so it makes sense you’d fear losing him. That fear made you protect yourself, even when there wasn’t a real threat.”

Lia swallowed, her eyes glassy as she fought back tears. 

“But I pushed him away. I hurt him when I should have trusted him.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded. 

“I understand. But what’s important now is recognizing that your feelings of guilt are part of that same fear. You’re punishing yourself for something that, at the time, you thought was the right thing to do. You didn’t want to lose him, and pushing him away was your way of safeguarding your heart.”

Noah’s jaw clenched. He had been so frustrated with Lia over the years, but sitting here now, listening to her talk about her fear of losing him… he realized he understood that fear all too well. 

He wished she could see what he had always known, that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Lia turned to him, her voice breaking.

“I didn’t want to be a burden to you.”

He leaned towards her, her shoulder almost brushing hers. 

“You were never a burden and you know that,” Noah said quietly. “I’ve always wanted you around. You make me happy. You always have.”

Dr. Reynolds leaned back in her chair, giving them a moment to let that sink in.  

“Lia,” she said after a short while”, I want you to delve deeper into that fear. Do you think it's why you've always stopped yourself from doing certain things? Like telling Noah you loved him?"

Lia hesitated, her breath catching as memories flashed through her mind.

“Yes,” she exhaled. “Everything has been because of fear. Deep down, I always knew I loved him, but I was terrified of what that meant. If I admitted to myself that I was in love with him, with my best friend, everything would change. And… if I let myself love him fully, the risk of losing him would become real. I couldn’t handle that.” She made a pause to take a deep breath. “I fough hard to convince myself it was just infatuation—that it wasn’t as deep as it felt; that I just wanted to be the center of his attention because he was so perfect. But I was lying. It was love. I knew it the whole time, and that scared me more than anything.”

Noah felt his heart tighten in his chest. She had been carrying that fear the whole time, while he had been waiting—always waiting—for her to believe he wasn’t going anywhere. 

He reached out, his hand resting gently on hers.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “But I’ve spent so many years convincing myself that loving you was dangerous—that as soon as I let myself have you, I’d lose you.”

Dr. Reynolds kept on jotting down notes on her notepad before speaking again. 

“Lia, that’s a common reaction when someone is deeply afraid of loss. You never had a paternal figure, you mother didn’t provide you with the care and attention you deserved. Then, the people closest to you—Noah’s grandparents— also moved away. You mentioned this not long ago, right? When Noah’s grandfather passed away, his grandmother decided to return to Japan, and you felt that as a loss, too, as a kind of abandonment.”

“I know it wasn’t,” Lia said, her posture stiffening, discomfort creeping in as if she didn’t like the truth of it. “But I couldn’t stop myself from feeling it that way. Then I only had Noah... and I guess my attachment to him grew even more.”

“Of course. It makes sense, Lia. You’ve loved Noah since you were merely a kid—first as a friend, then as something more—so much that you feared the very thing you wanted most: being with him. But now that you’ve faced that fear, it’s important to remember that love isn’t something you need to protect yourself from.”

Dr. Reynolds let the words settle between them before leaning in, her gaze moving between Noah and Lia.

“Noah, I think you’ve been carrying your own set of feelings for a long time, too. While Lia was dealing with her fears, you were facing a different struggle, trying to support her. Isn’t that right?”

Noah rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the familiar knot of tension there. He didn’t love talking about himself—he never did—but he knew today wasn’t the time to hold back.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’ve always felt like I had to prove myself, even with her. I’ve always been scared of not being enough for her. Like, maybe one day she’d realize I’m not this perfect guy she thinks I am. And, I guess that fear made me hold back sometimes, too.”

 “You both have been trying to protect each other in different ways—Lia by pushing you away, and Noah by trying to be perfect. But what’s clear is that the connection you two have, the love between you, has never really faltered. Even when you were afraid or apart, you didn’t let go.”

Lia wiped a tear from her cheek, processing the Dr.’s words. She turned to look at Noah, who was watching her with an intensity that made her heart ache. Without a word, she reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant to make you feel like you had to prove yourself.”

Noah shook his head.

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re together now. We’ll figure this out—together.”

Dr. Reynolds leaned back, her gaze warm and understanding. 

“Both of you have been carrying fears and doubts for a long time, but you’re both ready to face them—together. Your connection, this love, is strong enough to handle the uncertainty. You’ve already proven that.”

Lia wiped at her eyes, nodding. The guilt hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it had loosened its grip. She wasn’t alone in this, and that was enough for now.

Dr. Reynolds shifted slightly in her chair, her expression softening as she turned her attention to Lia. 

“Lia, I want to acknowledge the progress you’ve made. You’ve been through an incredibly tough journey, not just emotionally but physically as well. The abuse you suffered in your previous relationship, the trauma from your childhood—growing up without a father and with a neglectful mother—those are heavy burdens. And on top of that, you’ve struggled with your relationship to medication.”

Lia glanced down, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. That was going to be a long day. She was sure the moment she got home, she would collapse into bed, terribly exhausted. The weight of everything she’d gone through still felt fresh at times, and talking about it was like watching it play on a TV, or worse—reviving it. 

“The meds did help at first,” she explained, “but then I got lost in them. I was dependent on them, and I started taking more than what I was prescribed.” Her voice quieted, as if confessing. Dr. Reynolds already knew, but she had told Lia a few times how important it was for her to verbalize it until it didn’t trigger her anymore. “I was using them to escape.”

 “That overdose was a wake-up call,” Dr. Reynolds said. Noah winced at the mention of it. “But what matters is that you’ve taken steps toward healing since then. You’ve made a brave choice in deciding to taper off the medication, and even though it’s not easy, it’s clear that you’re managing much better now, especially with the positive changes in your life.”

Lia’s gaze flickered to Noah, who gave her a reassuring smile. 

“It’s been hard,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady. “The withdrawal was terrible at first, and I didn’t think I could handle it. But things have been different… better since Noah and I started working things out. Being with him, in a healthy way, makes me feel like I don’t need the meds to be okay.”

Dr. Reynolds smiled warmly, her eyes filled with encouragement. 

“You’re taking control of your life, Lia. You’re moving away from dependency, both on the medication and on the emotional crutches you once used to cope with all the pain. And that’s an incredible achievement. You’re learning to rely on healthier mechanisms—your relationship with Noah, your art, and most importantly, yourself.”

Lia felt a lightness in her chest, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. The meds had numbed her for so long that she hadn’t trusted her own emotions or ability to cope without them. But now, without that fog, she was starting to feel everything—both the good and the bad—and it wasn’t as overwhelming as she’d feared. 

“I still have bad days, but… I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore,” she said quietly. “Noah helps, but I think I’m helping myself, too.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded, pride evident in her expression. 

“That’s exactly what I want to hear. It’s not about never feeling anxious or sad again—it’s about learning to face those feelings without needing to numb them. You’ve proven to yourself that you can. And having a supportive partner like Noah is a huge help, but ultimately, the strength you’re finding is coming from within you.”

Noah’s hand tightened around hers. She wasn’t fixed, but for the first time in years, she didn’t feel broken either. She was healing—slowly, but surely.

Dr. Reynolds closed her notebook. 

“Keep going, Lia. You’re on the right path. You’ve come a long way, and it’s clear you’re capable of even more. The fact that you’re doing this—getting off the meds, facing your fears, building a healthier relationship with Noah—it’s all a testament to your resilience. You will get better.”

Lia nodded, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips. For the first time, she believed it.

As they stood to leave, Noah slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. 

Once out of the elevator and onto the street, Lia hurried toward the car, eager to get home. But before she could, Noah grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. He cupped her face in his hands, and without a word, leaned in and kissed her deeply, ignoring the people passing by and the noise of the street around them.

When he pulled back, Lia was breathless, her wide eyes gazing up at him, a spark of something new and beautiful shining in them.

“Whatever happened—whatever will happen—I don’t care. We’ll face it together. I’m not letting you go, Lia.”

She wanted to say, I’m not letting you go, either, but the words wouldn’t come. She was too awestruck by his closeness, overwhelmed by the love she felt for him and the weight of everything that had surfaced in therapy. So, instead, she just stared at him, her heart full.

Standing on her tiptoes, she grabbed two fistfuls of his hoodie and kissed him back, pouring everything she couldn’t say into the kiss. After a few moments, Noah pulled away, looking down at her with a soft intensity.

“Lia, am I clear?”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He gently tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned down for another kiss, this one soft, reassuring. When he finally pulled away, he took her hand in his.

“Let’s go home. That was exhausting.”

A week later 

Every couple of minutes, Lia would push a stray lock of hair behind her ear, only for it to fall back into place again. She was sat cross-legged on the floor, her sketchbook balanced on her knee. Her pencil moved in quick strokes, pausing every so often as she bit her lip in concentration, only to resume with a renewed burst of energy. 

The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting warm streaks of golden light across the studio floor that reached the other end of the room, where Noah was sitting at the desk, focused on the apps open on his laptop and on Lia’s iMac. 

He’d brought over two mugs of hot chocolate earlier, one of which still steamed next to her on the floor, while his sat neglected on the desk. They had spent most of the morning out of the house—Noah had gone to the gym and then had met the boys at the studio while Lia had gone to one of her yoga sessions, then had met Emery at a nearby Starbucks. In just three days, they would be flying to Japan for the Bad Omens tour, followed by a well-deserved two-week rest at Grandma’s house, in the outskirts of Tokyo. 

Noah’s mind had started to feel mushy in the last thirty minutes. Growing distracted, he stole a glance at Lia, watching her as she worked. Her focus, the way she’d push that same strand of hair away from her face, the way her brow furrowed... Eventually, feeling his mind grow too fuzzy, he stood up, muttering something about needing to wash his face.

When he returned to the studio, Lia was in the same position, still immersed in her sketching with her back towards the door. Without saying a word, Noah walked over and sat behind her, sliding his legs around her body as he leaned in close. Tempted, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss in her hair. Then another one further below. And another one right below her ear. Lia squirmed in his arms but kept her pencil moving.

“Noah,” she mumbled, her lips curling into a half-smile, half-protest.

He didn’t answer, trailing another slow kiss down to the nape of her neck. Her shoulders tensed, then relaxed, a small laugh escaping her. 

“Stop,” she said, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her, as well as the way she titlted her neck to give him more access. 

“You’re not really convincing me,” he teased, brushing her hair aside to kiss the curve of her neck.

Lia twisted in his arms, still trying to focus on her sketchbook, but the pencil faltered as she squirmed again. She laughed, turning her head slightly to glance at him. 

“You’re such a distraction.”

“Guilty as charged,” Noah grinned, wrapping an arm around her middle and pushing her flush against him. He was practically caging her with his body. 

Instead of reaching for his own mug of hot chocolate still sitting on the desk, he lazily grabbed hers, taking a sip.

“Hey! That’s mine,” she protested.

“Yours is closer,” he replied with a shrug, taking another sip before handing it back to her. “What are you working on?” he asked, glancing over at her sketchbook.

Lia flipped through some of the pages, her pencil resting between her fingers. 

“I’ve been sketching ideas for Grandma’s garden,” she said, her voice soft with affection. “You know how much she loves that garden. Last time we were there, I planted some peonies and lilies around the trees by the entrance, remember? I’m thinking of adding more this time.”

Noah leaned closer, peering over her shoulder as she traced her fingers along a delicate sketch of flowers winding around a tree.

“I’ve been imagining how it would look if I added some kiku or fuji seeds. Chrysanthemums and wisteria,” she explained, her eyes lighting up. “And I was thinking… maybe we could place some traditional statues around, or even build a tiny pond.”

Her voice trailed off as she flipped to another page—a rough outline of the garden, filled with plants she had already painted with soft strokes of watercolor. The colors in the drawing—deep pinks from the peonies, pale purples from the lilies—looked almost alive, like they were already blooming.

“Look,” she said, pointing to a part of the sketch where she’d blended purple hues for the wisteria draping from a branch. “I’ve been working on the colors, trying to match how they’d actually look in the garden when they bloom. I can see it in my head—how the sunlight would hit the flowers, the way the colors would change depending on the time of day.”

Noah’s expression softened as he gazed at the painted page. 

“She’s going to love that,” he said, setting his mug down. “And it sounds like a great excuse for us to check out those famous Japanese gardens you wanted to visit last time but didn’t get a chance to.”

Lia’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling as Noah added, “I could even sketch some ideas for the pond, maybe add some stones and other features if we get inspired by those places."

Lia hummed thoughtfully, inspecting her own designs.

“After the tour, we’ll have time to explore more traditional spots—temples, hidden gardens in smaller towns. We can start with the city’s chaos, then unwind in the gardens and parks. Once we’ve soaked in all that inspiration, we can start working on Grandma’s garden," Noah said.

A smile tugged at her lips as she leaned back against his broad chest, feeling the comfort of his warmth.

“I like that plan,” she admitted, smiling. “I’m excited for the shows, but I think I’m more excited about seeing Japan… with you.”

He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. 

“Me too,” he murmured. “And Grandma’s going to love whatever you do to her garden.”

They sat in a peaceful silence for a moment. The room was cozy, filled with the scent of hot chocolate, and Noah’s hand rested warmly on her stomach, his cheek brushing against hers tenderly.

Lia finally broke the silence with a mischievous smile. 

“I have an idea,” she said, untangling herself from his arms and standing up. Noah made a disappointed sound but didn’t question her, merely raising an eyebrow as he watched her disappear into the other room.

When she returned, she held something behind her back, clearly up to no good. Noah’s curiosity piqued.

“What are you planning to do with that?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice as she revealed a sleeping mask she’d likely grabbed from her half-packed suitcase.

“Blindfolded drawing challenge” she announced, playfully slapping his shoulder as she sat down in front of him.

Noah grinned, catching on quickly. 

“Hm. Not what I expected, but I’m intrigued. So, do I get to blindfold you?”

“Nah-uh,” she said, keeping the mask out of his reach with a smirk. “I’m blindfolding you. If you’re going to help me with Grandma’s garden, I need to check your drawing kills.”

“I’m an amazing artist, Lia, in case you didn’t know,” he said, puffing his chest in mock pride. 

“Let’s prove it then,” she challenged, eyes sparkling.

“I’m ready to show you the real artist in the room,” Noah replied, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a competition. 

Lia scoffed. 

“Keep your ego in check, Sebastian.”

Lia grabbed her sketchbook and flipped to a blank page.

 “Okay, mister. This is your canvas,” she said, placing it in front of him.

Noah sat up straighter, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as she stepped behind him, slipping the mask snugly over his eyes. Her hands brushed his neck, her fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Noah’s grin widened.

“You’re not secretly trying to turn me on with this, are you?” he teased.

She leaned down, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Noah laughed. 

“Alright, alright. Just hand me the weapon of choice.”

Lia placed the pencil in his hand and sat back on her heels, watching as he hovered over the notebook with exaggerated focus. 

“Alright, Picasso, time to show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, here we go,” he declared, setting the tip of the pencil to paper. He started drawing—if you could call it that. His lines were uneven, jagged, the kind of shaky curves you’d expect from someone who had no idea what they were doing.

Lia bit her lip, trying to stifle her laughter as she watched the absolute chaos unfold on the page.

“Are you… drawing a person?” she asked, half-choking on her giggles.

“Obviously!” Noah said with mock indignation. “Can’t you see it? It’s abstract.”

“Sure, sure. Very abstract,” she teased, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing too loudly.

He added a few more crooked lines, lifting the pencil occasionally to think before continuing. When he was finally done, he sat back triumphantly, pulling off the sleeping mask. 

“And… voilà! A masterpiece.”

Lia leaned over to inspect the mess of squiggly circles and jagged lines. It vaguely resembled a potato with stick arms and what might have been a smile—or a grimace. She couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter. 

Noah looked down at it and shook his head, feigning disappointment. 

“Okay, I’ll admit, it’s not exactly what I imagined.” He pointed to one of the misshapen blobs. “That was supposed to be an eye.”

Lia wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling. 

“Yeah, I think this guy’s been through something.”

Noah sighed dramatically. 

“I need your artistic genius to fix this. Save my poor little guy.”

Lia laughed again but nodded, taking the pencil from him. 

“Not from there,” he said, opening his legs and gesturing for her to come closer. “Come here.”

She nestled between his limbs, leaning back against his chest. Noah’s arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on her shoulder. The warmth of his embrace made her smile as she began to work, reshaping his scribbles into something recognizable. Her pencil moved, sharpening lines, smoothing out shapes, and adding playful details until Noah’s chaotic doodle turned into a quirky little character with a goofy grin and big, wide eyes.

Noah watched her, his grin softening as he admired the way her hands worked so effortlessly. The look of focus on her face, her gentle smile as she fixed his mess—it was moments like this that made him fall in love with her even more.

When she finished, she leaned back to admire their combined effort. 

“There. Now he’s got some charm.”

“You really are a miracle worker.”

Lia glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with playful pride. 

“I know.”

He reached out and gently moved that stray lock of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers lingered, brushing against her cheek as his gaze softened.

“You’re amazing,” he said quietly, his voice low and full of warmth.

Lia’s breath hitched just for a second, her heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at her. 

“So are you,” she whispered, leaning in closer.

Their lips met in a soft kiss, the warmth of the room wrapping around them like a blanket. It was a simple, quiet moment—the kind that felt like the calm before everything changed. In just two days, they would be off to Japan, diving headfirst into the chaos of the tour. But right now, in the quiet of Lia’s studio, it was just the two of them, savoring the comfort and coziness of the evening. 

When they pulled apart, Lia’s fingertips grazed the skin of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble that had started to grow.

Noah’s voice broke the comfortable silence.  

“Have you thought about letting others see your work?” 

Lia frowned, her fingers halting, barely brushing his chin.  

“What do you mean?”

“I know you sell your stuff online through your site, but I’m talking about something bigger. Like an exhibition, or maybe an illustrated book? I could help with that. I could write the story—like I did for the Concrete Jungle comics—and you could do the drawings.”

Lia’s shoulders slumped as she considered it, her brow creasing in hesitation.

“I don’t know if I’m qualified for that, Noah.”

“Come on.” He shook his head, not buying her self-doubt. “Your work is amazing. Okay, maybe I’m biased, but have you seen how fast our merch sells—the merch that has your art on it? And every time you put something new up on your store, it’s gone in less than forty-eight hours.” 

When he noticed the hesitation still on her face, he extended an arm in the air, as if to grasp all the piled notebooks and sketchbooks she had stored on her bookshelves and drawers. 

“People need to see all of this, Lia.”

Lia’s brown eyes flickered across the room, her eyes landing on one of the bigger sketchbooks resting against a stack of Bad Omens vinyls.

“Some of them are really dark, Noah.”

“You don’t have to show the dark stuff if you don’t want to—even though darkness is part of life,” he conceded, shrugging his shoulders. “But everything else? Lia, you’re an incredible artist. The things you draw, the ideas you come up with… They’re fascinating, to say the least, and people love seeing fascinating things, whatever it is,” he poked her cheek to get her full attention. “And there’s already a bunch of people that love your art, starting with me and our friends.”

Lia stayed quiet for a moment, her brown eyes searching his, still uncertain but intrigued.

“I already have a lot of work with Bad Omens…” she started, though her tone was more reflective than dismissive.

“Is that an excuse? Seriously? Considering your “boss” is your boyfriend?” 

That made her laugh, easing the tension. She snuggled closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder, finding comfort in the warmth of his body.

“Wouldn’t you like that, though? To exhibit your work? Let the world see what you’ve got tucked away in all those notebooks?” Noah’s voice was low and sincere. “You could even write something, turn it into an illustrated novel or whatever you want.”

Lia looked up at him, and for the first time, there was a glimmer of real possibility in her eyes.

“Yes. Yes, I would,” she said, her voice filled with quiet honesty.

Noah’s excitement was imminent. 

“I can help you with ideas. Maybe I can doodle something and you can improve it if you ever feel stuck or…”

Lia laughed, nudging him playfully. 

“I think you should stick to writing. I’ll handle the art,” she said, picking up the notebook they’d been using and shaking it, the potato drawing that Noah had made still on the page.

“Fair enough,” he agreed, wrapping his arms fully around her, squishing her and prompting her to drop the notebook. “But you can’t deny this was the best blindfolded potato drawing you’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll give you that,” she said with a giggle as she felt his lips and nose brush her neck. 

Lia leaned her head back onto his shoulder, and they sat there quietly in the peaceful warmth of her studio, perfectly content just being wrapped up in each other. Noah began swaying them gently, side to side, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of her. Outside, the sun had dipped lower, casting a soft, warm glow through the windows, wrapping the room in a golden haze.

“You fit perfectly in my arms,” Noah whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

Lia hummed contentedly, her heart full as she nuzzled her nose against his chin, tenderly.

“Because it’s where I’m meant to be.”

Noah’s heart swelled with something sweet and heavy, like warm honey filling every corner of his chest.

“Right answer,” he teased, before lightly tickling her sides, causing her to squirm and giggle in his grasp, but with no hope of escaping. He held her close, thrilled by her laughter, by the fact that she was his, completely and utterly.

He couldn’t wait to get on that plane and head to Japan, this time with her by his side not just as his best friend, but as his girl. The thought of them wandering through the vibrant cities and tranquil gardens together filled him with an excitement he hadn’t felt before.

He nibbled playfully at her earlobe before murmuring,

“Off to Japan in two days, baby. You ready?”

We're off to Japan in the next chapter, babes!! 🥳

— prev. chapter | chapter nine

🔖 Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

@chey-h

[castlebyersafterdark]

Speaking of porn do you think that individually mike and will would watch or read porn (probably more likely to read because they could find porno mags aimed at girls - idk how widely available gay porn was in the 80s)? Honestly not just as teenagers but as adults too, maybe when the other is on a trip and they're horny and pent up. Or they just need to get off, idk. If they do, what kind of porn do you think they get off to?

(If you need to make this easier than this could also be considered as a modern au lol. What kinda gay porn would they be browsing on the hub if they weren't repressed 80s gays 😔?)

It was definitely around, but I don't know the logistics of finding it. I mean, I wasn't there of course so this is all research and general knowledge, but they came of age in the golden age of the video store. VHS was kiiiiing. Porn was available. Gay porn? I have no idea where a teen in 1980s smalltown Indiana would find it. Maybe they sneak the straight stuff and look at the men in them? I'm reading forums and - mixed bag, everyone has a different take and I don't own a time machine! Yet.

You know Mike started off sneaking Karen's smut novels. Feeling embarrassed reading all the ways the hunky men are described, but copying down all the descriptions and terminology in a secret notebook, then writing his own stuff. Getting off to his own romance stories!! That's our naughty little writer. He's stealing a muscle mag, athletic magazines, which are suspicious as hell but it's accessible at least. I don't think there's much either boy would get their hands on until they leave town and get out into the world. That's why Will's stashing away department store catalogs for the underwear section and rewinding suggestive scenes in movies. Making do with what's around. I don't personally see Mike or Will ballsy enough to get a porno tape from a video store, gay or straight, as teens. Later in life, more likely. But not then. They're too self-conscious and paranoid, it's risky. If they saw anything - honestly? It's something Dustin got from Steve or Lucas and gives to Mike to check out for himself, not knowing Mike's actual deal.

In the 90s they're nerds, and they're prioritizing being on the forefront of internet usage early on. The reality that as technology changes - so does sex. Mostly photos at the beginning, but of course they'd find stuff online, the kind they queue up to download overnight to enjoy the next day since it takes so long and they don't want to tie up the phone line all day 🤭 But also - Will would collect really nice photography books. Finds from queer bookstores and specialty places while living in whatever city they end up. He'd be really into gay erotic photography. Vintage anthologies and modern art collections with that edge. Mike's forever a big fan of the skin mag, even as time goes on. A classic is a classic for a reason. But older - he's not stealing. He's a man with a hot partner and a steely scowl for anyone who judges the flavor of mag he slaps down on the countertop. Whatever.

Modern AU? You know Mike's getting off to femboy solo action videos. And beefy muscular guys doing the same. He's got his types, ok? He's watching sounding because he's too scared to try but he gets so hard watching it, he's into guys getting off in spandex superhero costumes and he's totally looking at foot stuff. Will likes watching fetish videos of guys tied up with intricate ropeplay and edged or engaging in tickling kink or getting pounded by a fuck machine. Stuff that's a little odd and makes him both anxious and horny. Also he likes hearing men whimper. He's into bizarre kinky ASMR stuff like breathing and heartbeats. Will likes stepfather/stepson scenes because, well 😉 And then, sometimes a little gangbang scenario starring guys who look like him.

They're both into watching tiny twinks take those massive dragon dildos - but individually for different reasons. They're also totally watching super sexy romantic couple's amateur porn together because they're saps and it's arousing watching others - and then using it to get ideas and make their own, even if it's just to enjoy making and watching it back together ❤️

[lookingfts]

I enjoy reading many of your spicy fics (multiple times at times 😌😂), but as hot as they are, I think what keeps me invested is honestly the emotional connection between Kate and Anthony. Like, no matter how vanilla or kinky and experimental they get, they always come back to each other and/or stay connected (physically or otherwise LOL) the whole time. Because while their chemistry was undoubtedly what drew me to the ship in the first place, their strong emotional connection and full understanding of each other is ultimately what gave me Kanthony brain rot LOL and seeing that complete trust in each other in your fics (particularly in Passed Around/Tied Down and Release — and other fics where others are brought into the fold) is what makes their kinks even hotter — to me at least.

100%! They can be kinky and experimental because they understand each other's needs, because they trust the other person implicitly, because all they want is for their partner to feel as good as possible. I have a reputation for "sex with feelings" haha, but I think smut can just say so much about the headspace and relationships of the characters. And of course, Kate and Anthony have sweet lovey-dovey vanilla sex when they just want to be close and intimate. I enjoy that too! It all has its place.

I've been tossing around the idea of writing a post with tips for smut scenes, in case anyone is interested, but I think the biggest one is that people will always tell me - writing smut makes me nervous, there are all these limbs and the logistics of it are hard to plan out. But it's just genuinely not about that. I don't write all that much about the physical act. In fact, too many of those details can bore me and make it all feel kind of clinical.

I think what they say, what they think, is a million times sexier. I love dirty talk. I love Kate and Anthony lying to themselves, pretending that it doesn't mean anything. I love them just reveling in how much they love each other. I love them being competitive. I love them taking care of each other. Having fun and laughing. Being intense and desperate. Trying to make the other person finish fast, or trying to draw it out. There are SO many options. Once you figure out the mood, how they feel about each other and what they're trying to show (or not show) the other person, the other stuff falls into place.

[whilereadingandwalking]

Manhunt is beautiful, raw, and cruel, finally a speculative fiction novel that treats chromosome-based biological catastrophe in a way that's actually compelling. Gretchen Felker-Martin's writing is excellent and awful in its excellence, because this book is terrifying, visceral, and violent. In it, a disease (dubbed "t.rex") transforms people with the right amount of testosterone (primarily cis men) into rabid, murderous, sex-crazed zombies. Gangs of TERFs, cis women tattooed with XX, police gender and seek out and murder any person who they decide is 'secretly a man' or a gender traitor. Meanwhile, a few queer people try to survive in an apocalyptic world, hunted by everyone. It's been a minute since a book made me cry, but this one did, more than once. Felker-Martin's characters are compelling: crossbow-welding Beth, always-longing Fern, fat doctor Indi who refines their estrogen, and Robbie, a trans man who joins their squad to try and find safety. It's an excellent book about zombies and the power dynamics in apocalyptic worlds in general—but more than that, it's a horror story about the arguments that TERFs and other transphobes use to insist that there are "real women," on the violence of that point of view, of the endless damage of turning on our most vulnerable while there is a (in this case, extremely literal) seething crowd of patriarchy that we'd be better off fighting together. It goes hard, poking at the kind of women or queer people who still think there's a way to blend, to survive within the TERFs' world, instead of resisting against it. Manhunt is bold, and it is at turns grotesque, funny, extremely sexy, graphic, horrifying, and devastating. Warning: I think anyone who does not want to encounter scenes of graphic rape or violence should stay far away from this book, and it is questionable whether the rape scene was gratuitous. I don't think it needed to have not happened, but I question how graphic that scene needed to be. It's possible that within the zombie-apocalypse genre of blood and gore and guts, Felker-Martin felt that scene should also be 'honest' to the violence of what's happening. But I thought it was excessive. Other complaints: the timeline of the narrative got pretty intensely mixed up several times, which was confusing. The logistics were often suspect. (I'm not mad at "coincidences"—one character shows up in the nick of time, etc—for me those are a classic part of the zombie apocalypse genre so they didn't bother me. I'm referring to like, timelines, distances, that kind of thing.) One of the main characters is a TERF. Some people think she has a redemption arc. I personally don't think it is one. She is not exactly forgiven at the end. I think she's there more to reveal the rot at the very core of the TERFs' own ideologies. This idea that none of them truly believe what they spew, most of them just want the power the divisions would give them, want others not to have what they've been told is theirs to have. I think it was effective, but I'm willing to debate it. All around, I really enjoyed this book, but the parts I didn't like really stick in the seams. I wouldn't recommend this one to everybody, but I do hope we get more fiction that does as good of a job talking about TERFs and why their rhetoric is so dangerous for people of all genders. Content warnings: Extreme: body horror & violence, transphobia, rape (graphic) Also: suicide, gender dysphoria, deadnaming, fatphobia, anti-Semitism, self-harm.

[lokisgoodgirl]

🌈 because I asked you the same one as someone else like an absolute melt

A melt 🤣🤣🤣you weren't to know silly bean. But thank you!!!

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

Oh gosh, well I worked real hard on The Legend of Long Dong Laufeyson.

You know in the Sex and the City Movie (1) where she and Big are gonna have a small wedding and then she gets the Vera Wang dress and she's all "the dress changed everything" - well I was gonna just write a lil casual pirate loki fic and then I thought of the NAME and the name changed everything 🤣🤣

I was like....this has to be perfect for this name. And then the mental images started coming so I had it all researched. The boats, the geography of Nassau even though it doesn't really feature, sketches of the bar and the port, the unspoken implications of Loki's legend, the crewplicutes logistics..it needed to be just so.

I'm really proud of it 😊x

FYI @gigglingtigger @lovelysizzlingbluebird

[unapologeticallytheworst]

Cursed and deranged fanfic writer Q&A

2, 11. 12, 19

2. Do you write porn from the perspective of the character you want to be, or the one you want to bang?

So I tend to pick pov characters by whose thought process is more interesting at the moment or hide things from the audience for the sake of tension and that's definitely still true with my porn. But I will say that I saw a post on here that said something like “it's not about perspective, it's about who doesn't get up to get a washcloth at the end” and that is scary accurate for my porn.

11. Have you ever tested the logistics of a sex scene you're writing in real life, and did the other person(s) know it was for fanfic?

Yes I have, no they did not know. Lol. Also I am more… experienced, shall we say, than the average person so I draw a lot from life, for porn and plot honestly.

12. Look up your current fandom on IMDB and do a fuck/marry/kill of the first 3 top-billed characters.

Okay so with the nature of my most my fandoms being series that make doing this straightforwardly hard, I decided to do it in two ways. One, Endgame because it's the big one, which gives us Fuck Tony, Marry Bruce, Kill Steve (but like ouch that hurts, sorry Steve I love you). And two, because I was curious, I did most movies, but that gives us a tie so, Fuck Nat, Marry Tony, Kill Fury. Or Fuck Tony, Marry Thor, Kill Fury. (again nothing personal Nick, but can you blame me?)

19. You have to choose one of your works for a cherished relative, teacher, guardian, etc. to read - which one do you send them?

Across both ao3 accounts, it's Baby You're the Best, but I am working on this kind of crime thriller Starker&Stucky au thing inspired by all the stuff I love in that genre and it would be that if I could. I honestly think that one is coming along super nicely. (I just wish I didn't have the worst writer's block right now, so many wip)

[erstwhilesparrow]

brief stroke of incredible genius: realized i can just say things on the internet if i want to say things on the internet.

started watching 3rd life and i said this elsewhere but. it's so incredibly nothing that martyn saying "my liege" becomes "my leash" in the autocaptions. however. i believe in my ability to make this something. more firmly, i believe in [someday i am going to write the fic where martyn is on his knees and complaining about ren being all gentle with him -- this is boring, boss -- because there's Really Good Thematic Resonance available in there not being any rope involved in the scene and martyn trying so hard to pretend there's more forcing him to stay here than there actually is]. would have to check videos again, but set between eps 5 and 6 probably? I Am Going To Write This.

sparrows are small and flighty and hard to identify, which i find admirable. i, too, want to be small and flighty and hard to identify, at least on the internet. (this list is not helping my cause here at all. more careless than i like to be, aren't i?)

despite my best efforts i cannot help being really charmed that scott smajor's concern with logistics and Keeping People Up To Date bleeds into every character he plays. watching him and cleo in double life, my first impression of him was, "oh, here's the guy with the Youtuber's Instinct To Explain Everything, fantastic!"

hey. new life is literally about changing bodies. why has no one done anything with the multiple possible meanings of 'exploring each other's bodies' yet. cut each other open. do some organ fondling. have sex. etc. (if i'm ever writing this, it'll be after sparrow's story is done. Important that i know what his deal is.)

i STILL can't stop thinking about how good the empires s1 dragon fight is as a server event. it's just. so fun. it works so well. makes a Normal Part of the Game exciting and new, automatically is set up for two competing opposing teams, easy and sensical to break off into smaller conversations during the battle. (okay maybe not that easy. but doesn't require all of them to be in earshot of each other!! side conversations Are Possible!! big moment in story is coupled with big moment in game!! i've lost the thread but it's GOOD when stuff works at the level of the game AND the story!!)

hey so do i now have to click two buttons instead of one to get to my queue and drafts on desktop.

loyalty to the point of self-immolation.

[sonic-spirit]

Fire & Rescue Shifters series, by Zoe Chant

Book reviews? Book reviews!

So, my lovely mate is fuckin’ prolific about reviewing and logging media: Books, movies, TV, comics, their big Pokemon playthrough project—it’s all so damn awesome. So, watching them and hearing them share their writing? I wanna play, too!

So, I’m trying to record and review the books I read and listen to, too. ^_^;; Even though the amount of times I’ll revisit the same book series is pretty excessive. But hey, you won’t know that! Yet…!

Anyway. I read a lot of shifter romance novels. I got into it looking for some good smut, and stayed for the stories. The cheesier and lighthearted fluff (with an underlying Actual Story), the better. I am but a simple lad.

So yeah, the Zoe Chant books (actually a shared pen name for several authors) are a regular go-to for me, since they usually have the tones I’m looking for, and there’s a ton of them.

^_^;; These quickly started to balloon out from simple blurbs to something more thought out, so it’s kinda hilarious to watch that progression.

Firefighter Dragon (Fire & Rescue Shifters, #1)

Dates Revisited: December 21-22

Format: Audiobook

“Re-read” the audiobook of this again to give my mind something to do while working on some stuff. I always forget that the female lead, an archeologist, is called Virginia Jones. And that she’s OBVIOUSLY called that because of Indiana Jones.

It’s not subtle, but I keep missing it anyway.

The inadvertent and somewhat anti-colonialist subplot is hilarious in light of Indy and Virginia’s reverence for museums. “The Queen’s a dragon! Her hoard is the British museums! Oh, at least your family’s ancestral treasure isn’t the results of grave robbing and pillaging! But the Bad Dragon? His hoard is TOTALLY stolen spoils. And he doesn’t even take CARE of his artifacts!”

Welsh is cool and all, but I still always want a red dragon named Dai to be Asian. He can be Welsh-Asian, I’d take that.

Firefighter Pegasus (Fire & Rescue Shifters, #2)

Dates Revisited: December 22-December 23

Format: Audiobook

This one’s WAY better than Firefighter Dragon. For one, Connie, the female lead, gets to do more in the plot than get kidnapped and menaced. I like that she gets to actually be the pilot for the race her future hinges on, instead of Chase swooping in to do it. I also like that this one sets up Ivy, and that she’ll come back into the orbit of these characters going forward.

The sex scenes do start falling into the “He hilted and she came immediately,” thing that I have a problem with in several Zoe Chant books, but they’re still pretty good.

I started reading the Wildfire Shifters series before this one, which follows this crew’s kids, and it’s SUPER obvious they didn’t work that hard on making the logistics of that work. Connie calls Chase “Rainbow Dash” at one point, placing this firmly post-2010, rather than like, the 80s that this would have to be set in to make the timeline work if the Wildfire series is present day, when the offspring are all in their 20s and stuff. But that’s more of a nitpick than anything else, it does distract me a bit sometimes, though. Especially when Ivy’s goth gear would be more at home in the 1980s than the 2017 this book was written in (or at least the audiobook was produced, admittedly I’m not checking the publishing date right now).

Firefighter Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters, #3)

Dates Revisited: December 23-December 27

Format: Audiobook

Hecc. I got suuuper sick with appendicitis and had emergency surgery to fix the problem Tuesday the 27th through Wednesday the 28th, and I’m still dealing with a lot of post-surgery brain fog (as of writing this on the 30th). ^_^;; Naturally I wasn’t really in a state to log a review when I finished the book, and advanced on to the next book in the series, Firefighter Sea Dragon, immediately upon finishing so that I could use the story as distraction from the pain. So that was fun.

This one is…I dunno. Look, I’m still recovering, and have a lot of brain fog.

Again, I read the Wildfire shifters books first, so the reveal that Griff is a Griffin? Yeah, I already knew that. That he was born with 2 inner animals who constantly fight and try to literally rip each other apart and NEARLY KILL HIM? Well, that I did not expect.

Anyway, Hayley’s cute, Danny’s cute, and I like the non-traditional family they end up having with Danny’s bio-dad, Reiner, even though every time he blustered about how nobody thought he was fit to be a parent, especially during his bid for sole or primary custody I wanted to knock his damn teeth in. YEAH, NO ONE THINKS YOU’RE FIT BECAUSE YOU WERE COMPLETELY UNINTERESTED AND NON-CONTACT WITH YOUR KIT FOR THE FIRST 5 YEARS OF HIS LIFE, AND IT WASN’T UNTIL HE HAD HIS FIRST SHIFT THAT YOU GAVE TWO SHITS. So no, you aren’t fit for sole or primary custody of your kit. But you do clearly care, and you are trying now. Moreover, I get that he comes from an abusive background, and is doing his best within his understanding of how to do that.

And that, canonically, his understanding of what a good pride (as in lions) looks like is wrong (and that Danny’s is right).

So I can respect every part of that. I liked Reiner’s visceral horror when he realized he nearly hit Danny when the kit stood up to him. I liked that everything he’d been taught about how to be an “alpha lion” was blatantly wrong, and that the story knew it was wrong…even though it still takes “alpha” as an actual concept, and not super wrong information formed by observing the behavior of captive wolves in mixed family groups. Fuckin’ WHOOPS.

Also, props to Danny, “999 told me not to call for a firefighter unless there’s a literal fire, and I really, really need to be rescued by the firefighter I know? Okay, got it, will set a fire.” What a fuckin’ great kid.

Firefighter Sea Dragon (Fire & Rescue Shifters, #4)

Dates Revisited: December 27-December 30

Format: Audiobook

This one’s another that’s not as fresh, because again I was listening to the audiobook to distract myself from a lot of pain in the ER waiting room before I could get in for emergency surgery. Like, I’ve read or listened to the audiobook for all 7 of these books at least once before, but that doesn’t mean I remember everything super well.

I’m not sure how I feel about this one, it’s complicated. There’s some things I really like about it, some things that I think are missed opportunities, and some that I think are pretty bad mis-steps…and I’m not always sure which is which.

John Doe (and his future son, Joe Small) are some of my favorite boys in these related series, but I think John’s at his best when he’s a wise, supporting character threatening to force-feed his oath brother terrible soup or singing to the rain? And this book’s delving into his home and background ends up, heh, washing those vibes away a bit. At least I kinda feel that way. I dunno. Something makes me not vibe as hard with John in this book, possibly from just going from the more open to interpretation feeling regarding sea dragon culture to actually defining how striated and frankly sterile the daily life of at the very least a knight is. Like. I’m always gonna rankle at vows of chastity being a requirement, especially for an entire class/rank of person. Those being a requirement to become a knight is wild to me, and then the abusive, racist, controlling knight commander (who is admittedly The Bad Guy) just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

It’s not super fair to judge Atlantis’ flaws on this and the later books in the Wildfire series, but the more we actually see of sea dragon culture the more basic and less interesting it even is. I think mostly it’s just not terribly well-developed, since a lot of these books are based more on aesthetics, “Which flavor of sexy beefcake do you want to sweep you off your feet, lady reading this?” than deep exploration of the cultures involved with these hot shifter boys. It’s just more glaring with the sea dragons, since they do live entirely apart in a hidden secret world that can operate on its own. But even in text, it goes from being firmly established as a culture where the inhabitants spend most of their time in their non-human forms, only shifting to treat with dignitaries since using human language is often the only way to communicate to…IDK, shiny be-pearled Ren Faire stuff. I’ll try and dig into it more when I get to Wildfire Sea Dragon, since that’s where the shallowness of Atlantis’ culture/development as a real place really becomes obvious, or maybe where the efforts to develop the Pearl Empire as a real culture stopped.

Otherwise…fuck royalism. Fuck the monarchy, fuck all that shit. Like, it’s bad. Glad Neridia’s actually a professional conservationist, and therefore has both training and knowledge of how to address the population problems Atlantis is facing, and a scientific background with which to approach leading. But fuck. It’s not like scientific grounding is genetic and lasts beyond one generation. Hereditary leadership. What a stupid fucking concept.

The Master Shark’s Mate (Fire & Rescue Shifters, #5)

Dates Revisited: December 30-? And then again January 17-18

Format: Audiobook

I literally cannot interact with this book without thinking about Knives Out anymore. I ADORE that the titular Master Shark’s Mate is called Marta. I fuckin’ love Marta. She’s fuckin’ wonderful.

I love that Marta’s a coyote. I love that she’s a grandma, and a widow. She already had the “Love of her life,” even if he wasn’t her One True Mate, and still feels loyalty to those vows. I love that memory of Manny, her dead husband, is what allows her to let go of her self-imposed stagnation to embrace her mate.

I love that the Master Shark’s given name is fuckin’ Finn! And that it’s that because his mom, a human, had a sense of humor! I love that despite being almost totally socialized in undersea society he has such warmth and respect for others under his stern outward presentation.

I love seeing the everyday turmoil of Marta’s coyote pack vs. the local rattlesnakes, and how, though it initially feels so much smaller than the big problems we’ve seen elsewhere in the series…it’s the same. I love that Finn bridges that gap with the same empathy and ability to peacekeep, THROUGH his power and shark-itude, as he does for the sea kingdoms, and that he never once treats their struggles like smaller or lesser ones.

I fuckin’ love this book, guys.

Like, it’s not flawless. And a lot of its strengths come from the context it exists within. But inside that context? It’s so, so damn good.

Firefighter Unicorn (Fire & Rescue Shifters, #6)

Dates Revisited: January 18-January 19

Format: Audiobook

I HATE the Unicorns Need Virginity thing. Hate, HATE, HATE. With a bloody fuckin’ passion I hate it, and I refuse to shut up about it. I especially hate that the whole damn trope comes from fuckin’ christianity, which, in my very ardent opinion, is a religion of abuse. It’s almost cliched that actual articles about unicorns would make a point to state that the “purity” thing was changed to “virginity” with the rise of christianity, and that before that “You could be a mother of 12, so long as you were pure of heart.” So like. C’mon.

So having Hugh’s struggle stem from his inability to handle sexual impurity…? UGH. The issues being tied to orgasms is…interesting, but I still hate that we have to dance this dance.

But FINE. We’ll DO THIS.

Unicorns, if you didn’t know by now, are KINDA MY JAM. I’ve been a lifelong unicorn boy, and Wildfire Unicorn was the first book of these series I picked up.

So like, it was interesting to see that Hugh had hidden that he was a unicorn from the rest of his squad for so long, that shifter culture held that unicorns were make-believe in a world of dragons, pegasi, and phoenix, and that they took THIS LONG to finally get to the Hugh-nicorn pun. Also strange and interesting that they had unicorn hunting as an imminent threat in a setting where most believe unicorns don’t exist. Always a weird choice to hold those plotlines simultaneously…but whatever, I guess, it gives us some of our conflict.

Though honestly? Even though the virginity and the unicorn hunting are such huge unicorn tropes, and I’d find it weird if they didn’t get mentioned in passing or lampshaded for your Unicorn Outing of the series…the book’d be tighter and the story’d be better if Ivy’s struggles were the ones we worked on, without both those plot threads muddying the water.

Cuz Ivy’s struggle with her wyvern, with class, with past homelessness, with the loss of her emotionally abusive (or at least neglectful) mom, her guilt over and love of her sister Hope (first prominent gay character, cuz I don’t count Marta’s daughter as “prominent”!), and her past of scraping by in shady dealings…that’s where the good meat of the story lies.

I don’t think the book went far enough in paying off how wrong Alpha Team had been about her, how shitty they were to demonize her, and how she’d just been jumping from bad situation to bad situation, struggling to get by, while Chase is a billionaire’s son, Hugh is an earl’s son, Griff’s family has land and a distillery, and John’s never had to live in the evils of capitalism and had Griff to live with and get him culturally acclimated when he came up from the ocean. Super easy to be judgy when you’re rich and have no clue, have never had the threat of homelessness hanging over your head. So while that theme is there, it’s not quite prevalent enough for me.

Then Hugh’s virginity thing swoops back in and eclipses everything again. Because that’s the important part.

I just really can’t hammer home how much of this book is about whether Hugh and Ivy should bone, and the fallout of them boning, and how the secret all along was boning, but like, the right way. It’s…seriously fucked, honestly.

Firefighter Phoenix (Fire & Rescue Shifters, #7)

Dates Revisited: January 19-23

Format: Audiobook

My feelings on this one are…complicated. Like, there’s a ton to like about it, but also…

In the good column, I always prefer when both parties are shifters. I just like the dynamic better, when one doesn’t have to induct the other into this hidden world, they’re mutually powerful, they know the ins and outs of having, in this series’ case, an animal inside them, and that just…lets us cut to the place I’m interested in. Especially the “ways the different animal natures interact.” That’s a huge part of what I come to shifter stories for, I want the POV through the eyes of these animals. (Chaos, is the specific vibe I’m looking for hard to find.)

I’m not super in love with the One True Mates thing this series has going (and not just cuz I’m polyamorous), but it’s a staple of shifter romances, and it gives the authors fewer excuses to arbitrarily separate their pairs—which doesn’t stop them from still doing it, but means they have to get more creative than the annoying sitcom-style “Overheard the wrong statement out of context,” type tripe you often get in your cheesy low stakes romance. Look. I’m here for cheese and low stakes, not morons who can’t have a conversation. Them caring enough to have an uncomfortable discussion is definitely a perk.

(Halp. I just finished Jennette McCurdy’s “I’m Glad My Mom Died” and now I have her narrative voice stuck in my head!)

In the…not bad but personally fraught category: OOF. Like, the narrative doesn’t dwell on it as hard as it could, it’s got cheesy romance and sex scenes to get to, after all, but CHAOS, IS ASH’S ABUSER CORBIN A FUCKIN’ GARBAGE MONSTER OF DEATH. Just…coming from my own abusive parents, and having been sucked into a few cults and cult-like situations…FUUUUCK. So yeah, it gets close to being a bit triggering. Triggering adjacent, if you will. Where it doesn’t cross the line into bringing forward any of my specific trauma, but it has me tense and ready for it. So that gets a bit rough.

But again, the book doesn’t dwell on it, so neither do I have to. Yay!

In the Actually Bad, even though it’s making a solid effort to justify itself, though I’m not willing to give it that generosity: Ash Fucking With Rose’s Memories, and fucking her 20 years later with her NOT KNOWING about their first actual meeting and that she ACTUALLY LOST HER VIRGINITY TO HIM 20 YEARS PREVIOUS AND HER THINKING THAT SHE’S STILL A VIRGIN NOW AND SHE HAS NO IDEA!!!??? AND THE BOOK TRIES TO DWELL IN THIS AS ROMANTIC!? DON’T TRY TO TELL ME THAT THIS IS ANYTHING BUT A HORRIFIC PILE OF NONCONSENT! “Oh, but she never was anything but loyal to Ash, even though she knew nothing about it and thought, WITH GOOD REASON, that her One True Mate was dead!” SO THIS WOMAN WHO WOULD OTHERWISE BE INTERESTED IS TOO EMOTIONALLY SCARRED TO TRY AND FIND SOMEONE ELSE!? (Or even have a casual hookup!?) UNTIL SHE’S IN HER 40S!?

Like, it’s one thing entirely if you’re ace. Being ace and uninterested for 20 years, cool. Hell, being demisexual and uninterested for 20 years! But THAT IS NOT THE CODING WE’RE WORKING WITHIN, HERE. We have an individual we have no reason to believe is anything but allosexual, who is too traumatized by loss to try and look for connection…who is mourning someone she HONESTLY BELIEVES DIED BEFORE SHE MET HIM. Oh, also? HE’S BEEN HANGING OUT IN THE PUB SHE OWNS AND LIVING NEARBY AND A FIXTURE IN HER LIFE FOR 10 YEARS.

Yeah, fuck that plotline straight to the earth’s core. Yeah, Ash’s stupid fucking idiocy does end up being A Problem for him. A Big Honkin’ Plot Problem, even. But no, I’m sorry. This is not okay, and doesn’t get a pass from me. Like, there’s enough narrative retribution that I wouldn’t begrudge anyone else for forgiving this utter bullshit, but it doesn’t get absolution from me.

Anyway. The epilogue is kinda hilariously long and all about setting up the Wildfire Shifters series, passing the torch, as it were. And I’d probably have been annoyed to spend such a long epilogue in fankid hell territory, but again, I read the Wildfire books first, so joke’s on them, to me this was a prequel series the whole time.

[bosstoaster]

Hey, I really love your mgs fics. They make me wanna write more. I was wondering how you come up with ideas. I always struggle with coming up with ideas or the ideas I have are more long term

Thank you!! And please do write, I DESPERATELY crave more things to read.

First of all: Longer fics are great! You'll learn so much about the craft and yourself from writing something long and finishing it. Just remember: Finished is better than perfect! The version that exists, that's real, that you've created is a thousand times better than the idea of the story you have in your head.

As for developing ideas, it's a mix of things! For one, I have fandom friends who I can bandy ideas around with and help refine a concept. It's extremely helpful to have others go 'or what if?' or 'and then x?', and it tends to fill out more of the story until I can put it down into an outline. On my own, though, usually I have A Single Concept, and that's usually a vibe or a moment. Let's take Lamb to the Slaughter as an example for how that comes to a fic:

So, with Lamb, I started with two things. First, Dave held by his throat and dazed while Hal is taunted, and then also Dave asking Hal to be the one to pick who he drinks. Okay! Vampire!Snake! That's a start. From there, we have a starting point: Dave gets turned. Then I ask 'what happens next'. Well, Dave is bit, he'd dead for a bit. Hal reacts like he's dead. Then he's not, and Hal has to process that fear and grief while also logistically handling the changes. I wanted being a vampire to be a struggle despite the benefits, so I gave them hard rules to follow, at least for now. What happens after THAT? Well, they're Philanthropy! They have a job to do. So they head out, which brings up two big logistical issues: Dave is trapped in a car with someone who smells like a tasty meal while he's slowly starving. Dave does not know his new limits. That finally ties into the scene I wanted to do: Dave, literally kneeling in front of Hal, begging him to help him hold onto his humanity. To be the objective moral core, to decide which people it's okay for Dave to very likely kill. What happens after THAT? Well, pay-off to the Philanthropy job that's been set up. The details don't matter, but it gives a chance to really highlight the benefits, as well as TEST Dave. Can he handle doing his job while being a bb vampire? Also, this whole time: How do I make it sexy? This is an erotic thriller about having power over something so powerful and potentially monsterous, but that listens to YOU out of love. (Which is why this had to be from Hal's POV). And since it's sexy, the ending is obvious: they must have a sex about it.

So, tl;dr - a) follow logistical questions and ask yourself 'what happens next' and b) decide the theme, the IDEA. What makes this idea compelling to you. Is it sexy? Is it heartbreaking? Does it test the characters in a way you find interest? Lean into that and use it to determine where the story should go.

Hope that helps!

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Do not trust me because I've only done this twice and one of them isn't finished!!! But I do it by planning out major beats and then writing from one to the next in chronological order. Like for Beyond Judgement (spoilers below):

I knew I wanted the motel, the relapse, the argument about whether to rejoin the Table, going to the Bowery for help, Chidi's death hitting Vincent, and the final fight with the Elder, in roughly that order with some fight scenes, sex scenes, and travel scenes in between. I didn't know any of the logistics of how the later stuff would happen, and some of it changed, but if I just focus on writing them getting from the house to the motel, I know I'm on track for the rest of it. So I started there and thought only about what would be interesting to have happen between them on the way to the motel. That way I knew the plot was on track and could just focus on the emotional interaction and descriptions.

It's like...focusing on one small chunk at a time.

Oh also, if you get stuck on a part with new locations or OCs, flesh those out in a moodboard or something! It's hard to know what should happen next unless all the characters and settings have a clear direction.

okay but likeeeee how the fuck do i write longer fanfics

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

HELLO BESTIE

i have a question for you

do you have trouble living in real life?

i mean, i sure do. i have been reading fantasy and fanfiction for so long i legit cannot understand the real world sometimes. it's also hard not knowing what people will do, yk? like, not being able tô delete and rewrite ou just stop reading is so frustrating. this is my daily struggle, and i wanted to know if you go through something similar, being a fanfiction writer and all.

yeah... the real world is ridiculous, honestly

A lot of my writing is based off of real life, so I don't have this disconnect. From the sex to the human dynamics to the conversations, much of it is from actual events I've experienced. This is probably why I rarely write strict fantasy. Especially when I write sex scenes, I had sex (or go off and have sex) to figure out logistics and how to describe specific sensations. I'm a method writer in that sense.

Navigating real life isn't too daunting for me because I already know what I'm getting into (dumbassery, usually). I know the difference between people and a person. You can't reason with people, but you can with a person. A person is made up of all their past experiences and these experiences drive their behavior. This makes them predictable once you understand them. People, as a mass, have hive mind mentality (which is not always bad, but it can be). You can figure out what direction they're thinking since there's usually a trajectory for the hive to follow.

The issue I started to have was that I was looking at everything in life though the lens of, "how can I incorporate this into my writing?" Don't get me wrong, I love writing in general, and especially for this blog, but repeatedly catching myself in this kind of thought process was driving me bonkers bananas. It was like I wasn't really living my life but only thinking about it. Thus, you see I've pulled back on here. I always make efforts to improve specific areas of my life when I'm starting to feel something is off. It's very important to me to have a strong sense of self and live my life for me. I wasn't able to for a long time, so now I'm much more self-aware of prioritizing myself.

I know how I want to live so I'm constantly working to improve and keep myself in a good place.

The real world is ridiculous. Sometimes it's better not to understand (for your sake lmao). With someone new, I approach them with the mindset of learning about them. I don't have any expectations. I remember that just because I don't want to be around someone doesn't mean they're terrible or bad. It simply means I want a different kind of energy in my life at the moment. I trust I like who I like. Never strayed me wrong.

Has made me even more unhinged than I was before but it's ok OK OK LET'S GO *runs*

[yarichin-imagines]

Aftercare headcanons for the boys?

Oi, oi, oi!! ✌️✌️ It’s Yariiiiiii! Aftercare is such a must, even in basic/vanilla scenes and activities. *sigh* We love it. 

Also, considering that every individual needs a different sort of aftercare and I didn’t want to write generically, here’s what each of the boys need for aftercare!

No matter how long the two of you have been together, after a scene, Toono’s drops are nearly catastrophic when you’re finished, top or bottom. Of course, he always puts his partner first, but what he’s really looking for is that reassurance from them. Did I do okay? Was I good? Lots and lots of praise and affirmation. He’s heavy on the verbal aftercare, but physically he tends to shrink away, feeling a bit overstimulated, like all of his senses have burnt out. It’s best to leave those aspects out, but he’ll never turn down some head pats.

Kashima is a talker. Before, during, and especially after, the man runs his mouth at ten miles a minute. After a scene, Kashima of course waits for you to catch your breath, only pausing a moment before the questions start. It’s a healthy analysis of everything that just happened. Reviewing his work as a top with his bottom is a form of aftercare in itself for him. Even after you’re back to baseline, he will not stop talking. He just wants to know everything went smoothly, in a more logistical sense (it’s a sports metaphor for game play strategies). Don’t be surprised if long after you’re asleep, he’s still talking through the motions, muttering and mumbling play by plays till he’s exhausted himself.

Most likely to secretly work at LUSH Cosmetics goes to Yacchan. He’s perfected a million different combinations of oils, melts, soaps and scents to suit any mood. There’s incense, there’s candles, there’s white noise. It’s an instant wave of relaxation to help him clear out his mind. He likes to think of it as the period at the end of a sentence, slipping under the bubbles to wash away anything that disagreed with him, together with his partner in blissful honesty. In the bath, he makes sure to scrub gently and with a teasing purpose. The splashing wasn’t an accident, by the way. He’s just making sure you can feel the proof that this vulnerability has got him ready for round two, three, four, and so on…

Shikatani has to clean up before he can even think about doing anything else. There’s always a towel under the bed and a box of tissues on the side table, and once that’s over with, he needs his space. It’s not uncommon for him to leave the bedroom and find a neutral space. If he’s dropped pretty deep, he remains close to you, opting for the hallway outside, but it isn’t uncommon to find him a few minutes later dozing off at the kitchen counter. As he meditates, reflecting and processing what’s happened in his waking mind, Shika eases up more and more til he returns and collapses limp beside you. It’s all about the routine for Shikatani. A routine makes him feel safe and protected. It’s usually the same no matter the partner. He cleans. He mediates. And when warm hand over his own sends a smile throughout his body, he can appreciate three kisses to wrap it all up: to his forehead, nose, and lips. 

Akemi wrote his autobiography on intense aftercare. He’s a hard dom, no doubt about it, but his aftercare mostly revolves around first aid and restoration. Being such a practiced lover, his drops are manageable as long as he focuses on his partner (phone calls aren’t the easiest for him because of this). He’s got oils, ointments, creams, lotions, for any lacerations or bruises left in the wake of passionate fucking. He is explicit in his instructions for stretches afterwards, and offers damn near to a buffet of high protein snacks and electrolyte boosting drinks. He might be a hard dom, but bottom line, he’s a service dom just as much.

Though it’s not because it was bad or because he’s hurt, Itome cries after sex. Sometimes it’s snotty and ugly, with garbled noises and incoherent gasps of words, mostly gratitude and praise though. He just needs a different kind of release after he’s voided so much energy all in one go. It makes him the perfect bottom for Akemi. Itome’s needs are dated physically much more than verbally. After all, he doesn’t talk much outside of the bedroom, and Akemi has to work even the smallest gasps out of him within it. The man swallows his tongue whole after sex. He needs hand-over-hand help with taking care of himself in his catatonia. He’s not totally deadweight, more like a puppet, in need of a strong guide behind him to reassure him that he’s safe and that he’s doing exactly what he’s supposed to.

Coming as no surprise to anyone, Yuri’s answer to this question is: more sex. Though, not 100% of a full-on fuckfest, he likes the feeling of going soft inside his partner, especially if he came inside them. He’s physically affectionate the most after sex, much more than he is on the day-to-day. If he was on top, he brings himself down onto his forearms, pink strands glued to his forehead with sweat, his nose brushing over yours. He’s been known to lick on his partner a little bit, and he’s king of sloppy tongue kisses: slurping, sucking, the whole of it. If he’s on the bottom, he likes to bring his lover down onto his chest, making sure he angles himself to just brush against their pleasure spot as he himself in time to their breathing, reveling in the soft squelch he hears when he ruts back into them until he goes soft and it all starts over again..

You’re thankful for his stamina, the fact that after a few rounds in poundtown, Tamura has barely broken a sweat, because the second it’s over, he’s on you like the lost puppy he is: passionate and pussywhipped. If anything, the scent of the aftermath, and the afterglow created by the glistening sheen of exertion across your skin. You’re used to all his weight on your chest, he needs to feel close to partner after sex. He breathes you in, deep so he can feel you flood his lungs before you circulate throughout his entirety, giving him a tingling happiness down to his toes. His hands drag blindly across the hills and valleys of your body, sometimes massaging along any area he figured would ail you the next day. Once he’s come back to earth, he wraps his arms around you, and rolls you all around til the blankets have twisted the two of you together even more. Even when you fall asleep, he doesn’t let himself separate from you, even though that’s when he really starts sweating.

Sometimes, he sneezes when he comes, or he gets the classic nosebleed, but afterwards, Jimmy is out of commission, MIA, AWOL, GCS 3 for at least 6 hours. This leaves clean up and first aid to his partner, because his orgasms just take a lot out of him. It’s always the best sleep of his life. It’s always best to take a set of vitals and make sure he’s still alive every two hours. He doesn’t stir, he barely breathes! But it’s the most relaxed he ever is, completely blissful and at eternal peace.

[eclipsedpascal]

Lavender Bruises

Older!Duncan x Female reader

A meeting with you and your father’s company’s buyers, leads to the shocking realisation that you had unknowingly slept with it’s new owner, Duncan Shepherd, just the night before. You needed to hide this sinful secret from your father, which left you stuck between wanting to make him proud and the unsatisfied craving you couldn’t ignore for Duncan to claim you as his personal toy. But you could manage both. Right?

Warnings: mentions of work (ew), alcohol, one night stands, large age gap, daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, public sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), intercourse, spit kink, slapping, spanking, hickeys, bruising, degrading/teasing, mouth fucking with fingers? is that a thing?, hair pulling and a ring kink ig:)

Notes: I've been writing this for fkn MONTHS now bcs I kept loosing inspiration, so this is actually the first thing I ever properly wrote! it's kinda complicated ig? idk like the parts in bold are a time skip to the night before and the fic goes in-between the meeting the reader is at and the previous night, meaning there’s two separate smut scenes so!!! but yeah i'm a whore lmao. Also ik hickeys don’t show up the same on certain skin tones and i’m sorry for that. i tried my best to be as inclusive as possible nd didn’t mention anything to do with the skin tone. Also!! if you're interested, I was listening to Cherry lips by garbage most the time I was writing this nd I feel like it fits it pretty well😌

Word count: 8.4k

●●●●●●●●

Going over the logistics of a content deal with the conglomerate that had recently bought your fathers newspaper wasn't the most preferable way for you to spend your lunch, but unfortunately it was necessary.

You know how these “lunches” go; business meetings disguised as casual discussions. They’re exactly the same if taken place in a conference room. Disagreeing and having to come to compromises you’d rather not, with the only differences being there's more chatter and cluttered noise of dinnerware coming from the restaurant around you.

You much preferred being in the office for these kind of things, but it was at the request of the new owners that you meet here, meaning you didn’t really have choice.

As you arrived at the restaurant you saw your father inside, waiting for your arrival just past the main entrances oversized, glass doors. You were almost 10 minutes late now and you knew he would be pissed. Honestly, you couldn't blame him.

Having to rush through a traffic riddled DC to get home at 10 in the morning because you had spent the previous night in a strangers hotel bed wasn't your proudest moment. Was it worth it? Yes, but it didn’t exactly leave you with much time to prepare for the lunch only two hours later.

You payed the driver and stepped out of the cab onto the drowning, wet sidewalk, desperately trying to shield yourself from the relentless rain that had been pouring down on the city all morning.

Looking up at the grand building on front of you, you could tell the place was going to be expensive. The entrances steps were 12ft wide and made of a pearly white marble that was now soaked with cascading rain water, making them even harder for you to run up in your heels as you tried escape the cold.

“Y/N, where have you been? You're 10 minutes late and these people don't like to be kept waiting." The people your father was referring to? the owners of Gardner Analytics. they had bought what seemed like hundreds of press company's over the past few years, especially those in the DC area. Their most recent purchase being the Washington herald, of which your father was the Editor-in-chief. You had been working there for a few months as your fathers assistant and helping out at these meetings had become routine.

“I'm so so sorry, my alarm didn't wake me and I-“

"It's fine" He interrupted "It's fine, just please tell me you have the documents I asked you to bring?" You could tell he was stressed out from the way his voice was wavering and how often he was stumbling over his words, so instead of trying to explain yourself any further you stayed quiet and did your best to take in as much of the information he was relaying onto you as you possibly could.

As he led you through the dinning room he explained to you who else was there, telling you that the others from the herald who were attending the lunch had already began talks with Gardener Analytics at the table ten minutes prior.

The closer you got to the table the more your fathers voice faltered, trying to round off the conversation so he could properly introduce himself when the time came. "Now Bill Shepherd had to cancel last minute, said it was something to do with his health unfortunately. But not to worry! I've spoken with him over the phone and he's informed me his nephew is filling in for him, okay?”

Before you even had a chance to reply he turned from you, reaching over the table to shake hands with a man you recognised as Seth Grayson; their director of communications, and an older woman who you assumed was Annette Shepherd. She and her brother Bill were the owner's of Gardner Analytics and your father had said it was important he got on their good side.

As your father greeted the others, you began retrieving the documents out of your bag, knowing they would be needed by Seth right away.

"..So sorry for the delay Mr Shepherd, you know how DC traffic can be" Your father chuckled slightly as he shook the man’s hand, making some light small talk. Mr Shepherd? that must be bill’s nephew, you thought.

You felt even more unprepared now; you didn’t even know the man’s name.

"This is my daughter and assistant, Y/N" Upon hearing your father introduce you to the mystery Shepherd, you slotted the documents under one arm and reached out to shake his hand with your other.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Shepherd" But as you shifted your gaze up to his own, you realised that there was no need for introductions.

He smiled gently, a kind of smug delight obvious in his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking you all in. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Y/L/N"

He released your hand from his grasp, moving to clasp his own behind his back. “But please, call me Duncan.”

Duncan fucking Shepherd. how could you be so oblivious? The two of you had spent hours together last night. How hadn't you figured out who he was? As panic ripped through you like a wildfire, you wondered if Duncan was feeling the same way; but from the look on his face, he was enjoying this.

●●●●●●●●

11:34pm previous night

It was getting pretty late now, and meeting someone who could fuck the stress out of you was becoming less and less likely by the minute. so deciding to finish your drink and leave, you took in the room one last time; making sure you hadn’t missed anyone interesting.

The fluorescent red and blue lighting of the expensive hotel bar was just bright enough for you to spot an older man you hadn’t noticed before. He must have been at least 40. He was sat in a booth with five or six others, all drinking, laughing and joking, yet he was staring at you.

Taking the seat next to you, he called out to the bartender. “Bourbon. Neat.”

You'd been waiting for him to come over ever since you saw him. It had been 20 minutes or so of quick glances and smiles to each other before the group of men he had been with dissipated. You had heard one of the men he was with refer to him as ‘Duncan’ when he had said his goodbyes, but other than that all you could assume about the man was that he was rich; judging by the all black LV suit he was wearing.

"Can I buy you a drink?” Turning to face at him when you heard him speak, you were practically stupefied by how attractive he was. His hair was full of shiny grey streaks that aged him. His stubble complimented his cheekbones perfectly and the speckles of grey throughout it helped bring out the brightness of his piercing blue eyes. His lips were full, and you couldn't help but notice how soft they looked.

“Vodka and coke” You smiled, trying your best to be confidant, but they way he was looking at you was giving you butterfly's you couldn’t swat away.

“I.D?” The bartender asked. You grabbed it out of your purse, proving your age to the bartender before watching him walk away to make your drink.

There was a brief silence before the man spoke again. “I hope my staring didn’t bother you, I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.” His flattery almost made you blush, but he wasn’t going to get you with a line that bad.

“Didn’t bother me at all, though i’m sure your friends there must have been envious” You chose to ignore his cheesy line, knowing that as much as you wanted him to take you there and then, you would much prefer making him work for it.

He chuckled slightly, knowing the game you had chosen to play. he looked away from you and down into his glass before taking a swig of the golden-brown liquor that occupied it. “Well I’m known to be quite a busy man, so I’m sure they understood.” He turned to face you slightly, waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

“Busy enough of a man to be drinking on a Tuesday night?” You questioned him teasingly, Ignoring that you yourself had the most important meeting of your young career in just over twelve hours.

“Is that really such a surprise? Most times being so busy is the main reason for drinking” He joked with you as he flirted, making it hard for you to keep eye contact without going red at the thought of such a beautiful man seeking your attention.

Duncan could see how nervous you were under the confident demeanour you had put on, I mean you were practically screaming it out to him at this point. The way you were fidgeting with the chain of your silver earring as you leaned against the bar and the fact you couldn’t even look at him for longer than 3 seconds without blushing was evidence enough for him.

“Well, that’s true.” You giggled a little as you spoke in your anxious state.

Taking a hold of your drink, you wrapped your lips around the paper straw and moved your gaze over to the bartender who was now serving someone a few seats down, attempting to distract and ground yourself from the situation at hand.

You were gripped back into reality quickly when you heard him speak again.

“There’s no need to be so nervous, I’m not going to eat you.” You found his use of the phrase quite ironic, being that’s exactly how it seemed. His eyes were piercing into you in an almost questioning manner, but when he gazed over your body, taking in your satin, black slip dress covered curves, the swipe of his tongue against his plump bottom lip gave you a very different impression; an impression he wanted to devour you. It was as if he thought you were that sweet snack he had been craving all week.

“No? That's a shame” You faked a frown, pouting as you moved to rest your chin on your hand.

“Well I think we should at least be aware of each others names before making such wild propositions, don’t you…?” His smirk never seemed to leave his face as he spoke.

He was good at this game, better than you at least. Of course It was obvious he was going to have had more experience with his age and all, but the way he was charming you so easily with just plain old conversation and confidence was getting harder and harder to match.

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You batted your eyelashes at him a little, for some reason feeling smaller upon revealing your name to him. You felt as if you had lost the upper hand in the conversation suddenly.

“Hm, Y/N. That’s beautiful.” You rolled your eyes. Of course it is. Thats what they all say. You thought.

“Aren't you going to ask mine?” His ego now showing, you decided to make a bolder move.

“You rather fancy yourself, don’t you, Duncan?”

He finished his drink and moved closer to you. “Oh, so you already know my name?”

He was close enough to you now that you could make out the many beauty marks which decorated his cheekbones and hear the rasp of his voice even better than before. It was thick as honey and just as sweet too.

“I heard your friend call you it.” You quickly replied.

He scoffed a little, finding amusement in what he was about to say. He brought his face down closer to yours and began to run his fingers through your hair. “Hm, well he’s an old friend sweetheart. Most people would call me Mr Shepherd.”

You felt yourself grow hot, Duncans words casting a haze of complete lust over your mind.

You did your best to stay confidant, doing everything you could to ensure you didn't loose this game the two of you were playing. “Really? Is that what you like? Mr Shepherd.”

Your faces were so close to each others now that you could smell the bourbon on his breath when he let out a loud chuckle. His pearly whites showing as he did so. You even felt him graze his stubble against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” He ran his finger over your lips as he spoke slowly. "So tell me, what is it that does it for you Y/N? Hm? I mean a girl your age doesn’t decide to stare at a man like me all night just for the hell of it. So what is it? The power? The money? Or is it the age gap so big I could be your father?”

You squeeze your legs together as his sentence finishes, letting out a hushed whimper. Of course you were attracted to older men, that was obvious, but hearing him say it out loud in public whilst being so close to you turned you on even more than you thought previously possible.

He chuckled a little, “So it’s the age then, is it sweetheart? The idea of having a man more.. experienced pleasure you, instead of a man who would leave you to fend for yourself after finishing in less than five minutes. You want someone who can make you cum so hard you’d be begging him to make it stop, don’t you?” Every move Duncan made, every word he spoke was calculated, and it was all in pursuit of teasing you just because he knew he could.

You made a mental note of his nickname for you as you looked up at him. You felt his fingers run across your cheek and then push some stray hairs back behind your ear as you desperately tried to think of something smart to say, anything to say; but he had won. He knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. You didn’t even care anymore. You were more than ready to give what little of a resolve you still had up to him.

He whispered to you as he moved his spare hand up the small of your back. “Now little one, I have the presidential suite of this hotel under my name tonight. So what do you say we go on up? Since now we're just so well aquatinted."

●●●●●●●●

Having to take part in a meeting with your father and the man double your age that you had fucked for hours the night before was NOT what you had planned for today.

“Mr Shepherd, I apologise that I didn’t make it here on time. I had a pretty hectic morning.” You did your best to keep your chill in your now shocked state, but with everyone watching the two of you it wasn’t easy.

“No don’t worry, I know how DC traffic can be, especially in this weather. As long as you're here now.” A wide smile was planted on his face as he spoke. The same as last night. He never broke eye contact with you, and you found yourself wondering how he could do it so easily.

“Please, sit.” He gestured you over to take a seat as he pulled out the chair next to his own. You thanked him politely and sat down, your mind racing and spiralling out of control at the thought of your father discovering the sinful deeds you and his new boss had taken part in just hours prior.

You felt him tuck you into the table before sitting down next to you. You could hear the voices of the restaurant that surrounded you and the others at the table coming at you. Every noise was muffled, as if your head was suddenly underwater.

“Y/N?” You were quickly brought back to reality when you heard Seth question you.

“From my understating you have the merger documents in your belonging, yes?” He looked at your father for reassurance this was definitely case as he spoke. So with everyone at the table’s eyes on you, you slid the documents over to him.

“Yes! And uhm the specifications for the more politically based content changes are detailed on page 25. I was told that was of high interest today?” You got yourself back on track, trying to stay as professional as possible whilst ignoring Duncan and the predicament you had found yourself in.

“We were briefly discussing the more major changes before you arrived Mr Y/L/N, but I believe you’ve already been made aware of most them?” Duncan addressed your father, kicking the meeting off. But you couldn’t concentrate. You were listening to the conversation, you really were! It was just that you were so wrapped up in Duncan’s voice you couldn’t actually understand what the fuck they were all talking about.

Seeing him so invested in the crucial conversation he was having with your father and the many other associates at the table was just doing something to you.

Observing the way his hands were moving when he spoke, you noticed how he would often clasp them together when he was explaining things, and how he would tilt his head slightly as he listened. His bronzed curls were combed to perfection, resting delicately on the right side of his face and when he licked his bottom lip, it sent a shiver down through your spine all the way to your cunt. You were entirely captivated by him.

Hearing your Father ask for your opinion on the subject being discussed, you shook off the spell Duncan’s attractiveness had casted onto you and responded, giving your perspective on the subject.

Duncan relaxed into his seat a little more as he watched you talking. He knew you had been staring at him, but it was cute, he thought. Almost endearing seeing you get so flustered at just the sight of him. He had seen you squirming around in your seat whilst you watched him and decided the accidental teasing wasn’t enough; he wanted to toy with you more. As much as he possibly could.

“You know, if you’re trying hide what’s happened between us then you might consider making your staring a little less obvious, sweetheart.” He was speaking quietly enough for nobody else to hear and not looking in your direction, pretending to still partake in the tables back-and-forth. Still the fear of your father, who was sat just across the table, overhearing Duncans remarks was petrifying.

You knew you couldn’t let your craving for him and the confusion from not knowing who he was last night effect the meeting, but there he was with that nickname again, stirring your desire even further.

“How are you even here?” You let your frustrations out onto him as you talked back, his cocky attitude getting to you too easily with the stress you were under. “I’m trying so hard not to ruin today and this situation isn’t helping! They’ll fire me if I mess this up and I’ll be fucked! Which surprisingly, I’d prefer not to be!” Your whispering was pretty aggressive, but could you really blame yourself?! This kind of coincidence was rare, so you had every right to be mad at the universe for letting it occur on today of all days.

His ego not faltering for even a second, he chuckled. “Oh you don’t wanna get fucked? Funny, because I remember you saying the exact opposite last night.”

He grazed his hand across your inner thigh, massaging it gently before diving underneath the little black pencil skirt you were wearing to grip onto your flushed skin.

You scoffed at his words and looked up at him, shocked at how bold he was being and expecting some kind of response from him, but he didn’t even look your way. You assumed this was so no attention was brought to the two of you and so you followed his lead, turning away from him just as fast as you had looked.

With the heat of your cunt having grown far too intense to bear, any friction that wasn’t your own thighs pressing up against each other was to be welcomed. So you decided not to stop him. In fact you did the exact opposite, spreading your thighs wider for him, not having the self control or restraint to keep yourself from him any longer.

His hand moved closer to where you needed him most, diving under the crotch of your underwear to swipe his fingers over your slick folds and immediately begin rubbing circles onto your neglected clit.

You stifled a moan, leaning onto the table on front of you to keep yourself steady as he touched you. Finally, he moved his gaze to rest on you, watching you as you struggled to stay silent. He whispered once more, “Always so wet for me, aren't you princess?”

●●●●●●●●

As soon as you entered the suite, Duncan gripped onto your waist, pushing you up against the door and cradling your cheek with his spare hand before smashing his lips into yours.

His tongue slipped past your lips, dancing with yours whilst he moved his hands all over your body, clutching onto your breasts and then moving them down to explore the rest of you.

He lifted your dress up just enough so he could grip your ass. Pulling you closer to him and making you feel his bulge against your hips, you were too short in comparison to him to feel him where you wanted to most.

He spoke to you in kisses, telling you of how ravenous he was for you and that he was going to savour every moment. He moved his lips down, trailing open mouthed kisses from your neck to your collarbones and to the top of your breasts.

“This fucking dress” He took ahold of the bottom of your dress, pulling it up above your head with urgency as you lifted your arms to better help him strip you. Throwing the dress down onto the floor and hearing it land somewhere behind him, he admired your body and it’s curves.

“The perfect wrapping for such an enticing present.” He finished his sentence. Immediately grabbing at your breasts, sucking and kissing them.

You couldn’t speak, too enthralled with the technique of his tongue swirling around your nipple to do anything but moan in response to him.

You threw your head back against the door, staring up that the beautifully patterned ceiling in pure ecstasy. You felt him drag a callused hand down to the waistband of your Lacy white panties, tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach as he traced his fingers over it. His finger tips running across the little white bow that centred the waistband.

He collapsed down to his knees, yanking the delicate lingerie as he fell, leaving it to puddle around your ankles.

He teased your heat, moving from kissing the skin of your thighs to your folds, but not yet reaching the lengths you wanted him to, only adding fuel to the fire in between your legs.

“Please Duncan-” you begged him, desperately needing some kind of release from the binds of lust he had managed to wrap you in over the past 45 minutes.

“Ah ah, don't you remember? You don’t get to call me that.” He spoke.

“I’m sorry, Mr Shepherd.” You corrected yourself, recalling the conversation you had with him prior to coming upstairs.

“Mhmm, now as magnificent as that name sounds coming from you, I know that there’s something else you’d rather call me.” He hummed in disapproval, calmly redirecting your choice of name for him and reassuringly pressing his lips onto your clit.

You let out a stuttered gasp, you did want to call him that, but now you felt nervous due to the build up he had created.

“Com’n, sweetheart. Do you think I don't know why you’re here in the first place? Why else would you be sat all alone in the bar of a hotel you weren’t even staying at? You’re just another slut with daddy issues, sneaking down to an expensive hotel to scavenge for any man good enough to fuck you into submission. Isn’t that right?”

Mildly insulted at his all too accurate observation of you, but enjoying the effect his degrading words have on you none the less, you gave him what he wanted. “Mm yes daddy!” You whimpered out, admitting your ploy to him.

A low rumble emitted from his chest, your words setting off some kind of animal inside him. He dove his face down into your pussy, starting by sucking on your clit gently, flicking his tongue over it and applying more and more pressure as you writhed above him.

His mouth was closed around you now, his grey, speckled stubble scratching your already inflamed skin. You were taken aback by his skills, intwining your fingers through the curls in his hair and tugging on them with every wave of pleasure that hit you.

He snaked his large hand around your thigh, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder while he ate you out. Enjoying the new angle he was utilising, he hummed, sending vibrations through your nerves up to the pit of your stomach, bringing you closer to your climax.

“Mmh.. fuck daddy, i’m gonna cum!” He didn’t let off, his tongue perhaps fucking into you even faster since you told him how close you were. You locked stares as your orgasm took over your body, your lips forming an o as you screwed your eyebrows together in rapture.

He came back up, letting you taste yourself and he placed his lips on yours again. You eased into the kiss, a relaxed haze having taken over your body in your post-orgasm state. Feeling a slight breeze flow up the side of your form, you realised that Duncan still had all his clothes on whilst you had none. Deciding you needed to change this as soon as possible, you began unbuttoning his suit’s matching black blazer and shirt, rushing to feel his skin on yours.

He helped you, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as you began to unthread his leather belt from the loops of his trousers. “You’re so impatient, little one.” He spoke.

“I think I’ve waited long enough, daddy.” You smirked, dropping the belt at his feet.

As soon as his shirt hit the floor you reached up, gliding your hands across the expanse of his bear chest, taking notice of how small your hands appeared in comparison to him. He watched you, relishing in the glimmer of entrancement that shone through your eyes as you ingested him.

He lifted you, his strong arms carrying you bridal style towards the king sized bed and throwing you down onto its crisp, satin sheets. Grabbing your ankles, he dragged you down the bed towards him and finished taking his pants off. His cock sprung free from the confines of his boxers, smacking against his stomach.

He clambered onto the bed, resting on his knees as he jerked himself in his hand, reluctantly groaning out at the first contact his neglected cock had received all night. His pressing cock had made it unfathomably hard not to just fuck you up against the door when he saw that sweet little way in which your face scrunched up as you came.

You were practically drooling, watching him fuck himself into his fist as his eyes scanned across your naked body. Not being able to wait any longer and wanting to finally feel his cock on your skin, you sat up slightly and reached out to touch him. But before you got the chance, he shoved you back down. leaning over you, he held your wrists down against the pillows with one hand and wrapped his other around your delicate throat.

“So greedy, baby” he stoked his thumb over the skin of your neck as he made his observation, watching you struggle underneath him.

“I just know what I want.” You toyed, your voiced coming out slightly muffled with the pressure of his large hand covering your voice box.

“Such an attitude, too.” His cock brushes over your cunt as he sways his head from side to side in disappointment and disproval. “Now sweetheart, you’re gonna stay exactly where you are and daddy’s gonna fuck you just like this, okay? So he can see that pretty little face of yours.”

You gulp at his words, anticipating the feeling of having him inside you. “Please just fuck me. Please.” You knew you sounded absolutely pathetic, but you didn’t care. Just needing him plummeting in and out of you as soon as possible.

He chuckled at your neediness. Taking his hands back from your wrists and grasping his cock, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing in, he let you adjust to his size.

Moaning out, you dug your nails into the bed sheets, watching his head drop down to yours as he closed his eyes in pleasure.

“Fuck, you take me so well.”

●●●●●●●●

He slipped his ringed finger into you, pushing against your spongy walls whilst you made a desperate attempt to suppress your moans. You bite down onto your nails, your elbow resting on the table as you put all your weight onto it for some kind of crutch.

He began with a slow pace, making sure you would feel every little movement he made. You heard him join into the conversation once again, mentioning something about an article he had seen from the Herald last month which had impressed him. You weren't even sure. You couldn't think for the pulsing beat of your own heart that filled your ears.

“You all right there, Y/N?” Your heavy breathing must have been a dead give away for something being up, being your father was now questioning you.

You felt Duncan stop his movements momentarily, joining the rest of the table in their standstill, staring at you as they awaited a reply, but his little act of sincerity didn't last too long.

“Yeah, uhm-“ you felt him slide a 2nd figure in, making you fake a cough as to stop the cry desperately trying to escape your throat from doing so.

“Yeah, I’m uh, just thirsty.” Hoping this would ward off the worried looks you were receiving, you were shocked when you heard Duncan chime in. “Oh don’t worry, we can get you something.”

He called the waiter over, asking him for a pitcher of lemonade and thanking him as he walked away, back towards the kitchen. You would have preferred some water, you thought, but you were far too focused on what was going on underneath the table to say anything.

“Now, where were we?” Seth began talking once more, bringing the attention back to where it should be. But Duncan? No. His attention stayed on you. Even more focused on fucking his fingers into than before, he sped up and began going even deeper now, curling them upwards until you were twitching.

You looked up at him pleadingly. You were getting too close to cumming for your own liking, so you grabbed onto his thigh and dug your nails into his expensive black dress pants, warning him. He shot you a devious grin, scissoring his fingers inside you and pressing his thumb down to rub sweet circles on your hooded clit, letting you know he didn’t intend on stopping.

He looked behind you suddenly. Following his gaze, you snapped your head to the side, trying to get a good look at what had grabbed his attention so abruptly.

It was the waiter. He had arrived with the pitcher of lemonade in hand and yet Duncan was still plummeting his hand into your pussy with such a speed you began to wonder if someone had actually noticed what was truly going on. I mean the waiter must know.

At this point you had let far too many questionable gasps leave your mouth, your breathing had become even more erratic as you grew closer to your orgasm. He knew you were about to break before he swiftly pulled his fingers out of you, wiping the juices that coated them back and front onto your skirt so he could pick up the glass on front of you, leaving you unsatisfied.

You scrambled to collect your thoughts and breath as he picked up the pitcher, pouring the ice cooled lemonade into your glass.

“Here.” He spoke. You lifted a shaky hand up to take the glass from him when the grasp he had on it ‘slipped’, spilling the contents of it the onto your lap.

“Oh!’ You jumped up, making the sweet, sticky liquid run off your skirt to your thighs, dripping down your legs and eventually onto the floor. The now empty glass falling with it.

“I am so sorry, Miss Y/L/N.” He picked up the glass, sitting it on the table before joining you in standing. Now he was stood, you could clearly see the dark tint of his cock straining against the constrictive fabric that was his dress pants. It sent a pulse of lust through your cunt.

“Duncan!” Hearing Annette voice her annoyance at her son for being so clumsy almost made you laugh. It was quite amusing seeing his mother reprimand him, being he was a grown man in his 40s.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I-I’ll just go clean myself up in the bathroom. I don’t want to distract the meeting anymore than I already have.” You made eye contact with your father as he rubbed his temples.

He was annoyed at the scene you and Duncan had caused. You gave him an apologetic look, feeling bad for stressing him out even more than you already had with being late, but knowing it was technically Duncan’s fault and not yours.

“Please, let me help you clean up.” Duncan pushed his chair in, quickly grabbing some napkins off the table and resting his hand on your back to guide you towards the nearest bathroom, walking as fast as your weak legs would let him.

His hand stayed delicately placed on the small of your back, until you were out of the tables sight, at which point he took hold of your arm, clutching it like a vice as he dragged you through the bathroom door.

He locked the door behind him in preparation for what was to come. He needed to make sure nobody would be walking in on what he was about to do to you.

Looking back towards you, satisfied as ever now he had you alone, he waltzed on over, pinning you up against the counter with force. You could smell him on you again, same cologne from the night before. Dior, you guessed.

“You’re not very good at staying quiet, are you, Sweetheart?” He mused, hoisting you up onto the counter and forcefully cradling your face with both hands as he moved to kiss you deeply. His tongue ravenously re-familiarising itself with your mouth.

“You almost got us caught back there.” He spoke in between kisses. “Your poor, naive father, watching you. He was probably wondering why you kept squirming.” He voiced a dark giggle, moving down to suckle on your neck and push your skirt up your thighs.

“I almost got us caught? No. Y-you almost got us caught when you decided putting a second f-FUCK, finger into me whilst I was talking to him was a good idea!” You choked out, doing your best to fight through the pleasure of his lips finally grazing your skin as you watched him pull your panties down and slot them into his pants pocket.

“Awh poor baby. Did you not want your daddy knowing that you’re a greedy little slut for his new boss? Hm?” He admired the blossoming lavender and cherry bruises now forming on your neck as he teased, marvelling at the idea they could be noticed by your father once you finished.

He quickly opened his fly, pulling his dress pants and boxers down just enough that he could pump his cock in his hand. Gripping onto your hips for purchase, his fingers dug into you so viciously you could feel the marks he had left the night before. You knew after this, there would surely be more.

He thrust himself into you, earning a loud wail to fall from your lips. You arched your spine at the feeling of him pounding into you, making your head fall back against the mirror behind you. His hand shot up to the it as he gathered more speed, his pace growing far faster than you had anticipated.

“Was it too much for you? Taking my fingers in your cunt whilst you were trying oh so hard to concentrate? I almost made you cum on front of everyone.” You moaned out at his grotesque words, pulling your head up to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“Answer me.” He pulled your chin up back to look at him, still pounding into you. The sound of your skin slapping against one another’s felt even louder in the small, tiled bathroom.

“Yes daddy! It was too much for me - AHH!!” You let yourself go limp against the mirror, giving yourself up to him entirely and wanting nothing more than for him to use you like his personal rag doll.

●●●●●●●●

Your throat was growing hoarser with every squeal you made. Duncan had been fucking you ruthlessly for what felt like hours now, constantly changing his pace from calm to aggressive and back again. His lips were mouthing over your peaked nipples, tongue slathering trails of saliva across your skin and teeth scrapping over dozens of tiny goosebumps.

“Such a filthy, fucking whore for me.” Squeezing down on your neck with one hand he uses his other to slap you. His ringed hand coming down across your fleshy cheek with a loud crack.

You gasped out, shocked at this move and feeling reinvigorated by the suddenness of it. His abuse only made you more attracted to him, causing your cunt to puddle its juices around his cock.

Slowing his thrusts down to an almost complete halt, he grabbed your jaw, yanking your mouth open just enough that when he dripped his spit down you could catch it. You moaned at the filth of his actions, tasting the bourbon he had drank earlier at the bar.

Following the thick thread of salvia that connected the two of you to each other, he brought his face back down to yours, bringing your sloppy lips together. Never giving you the chance to close your mouth before he slid his tongue into it.

Your lips part, foreheads leaning on each other with eyes locked as you scream and moan at his brutal fucking. “Such a good girl.” He praised you.

“Thank you daddy!!” You cry out, feeling tears brimming in your eyes at the deepness of his cock. You knew he was going to be good when he first pushed you up again that door, but this was insane. You had never felt his turned on before. Loving being completely at his mercy, but receiving none.

He pulled out suddenly, wrapping his hands around your stomach and flipping you over to your front. You got the just of what he wanted and clambered onto your hands and knees for him. He pushed his cock back into your folds, hips ricocheting off your ass immediately.

He pulled at your hair, lifting you up to his chest as he gruffed and groaned. He was much larger than you, making it easy for him to pull your head back enough that he could see the expression on your lust enthralled face.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He demands, spanking your ass cheek and twisting your hair around in his hand. His other hand moved to your gaping mouth, pushing two fingers inside so you taste the metallic bite of his silver band.

You gag as he fucks your mouth, mumbling around his fingers in a desperate attempt at begging him to allow you to cum. You were getting so close now. You guys had been going for so long and your impending release wasn’t going to wait much longer.

“Fuckk, don’t worry sweetheart. Daddy’s close too.” He took his fingers out of your mouth, bringing them down to your clit and swiping at it furiously. You could feel your own spit on his fingers as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“Ohh Daddy’s gonna come so deep inside you, little one.. would you like that?” His breathes were uneven. Thrusts uncontrolled and sloppy.

“Yes!! Fuck, fuck, FUCK Daddy I’m cumming!!” Your cunt pulsated around his shaft, squeezing his own orgasm out of him even sooner than he expected as you screamed. You could taste the saltiness of your own tears, them having run down your cheekbones and into your agape mouth.

His cum flooded your walls, filling you up with his hips pressed against yours as he enveloped you in an embrace from behind. He uttered out a shudder against your temple, his breathe feeling hot and damp on your skin.

He set you back down on the bed and pulled his softening shaft out of you, moving his large hands back to your hips as your own gave out and fell underneath you, pressing your face into the sheets. You eventually rolled over to lay on your back, wanting to let your aftershocks roll through your quivering limbs more comfortably.

He fell down onto the duvet next to you, propping himself up on his side slightly and pulling you closer to him so he could plant a kiss on your swollen lips. “You alright? I didn't hurt too bad now, did I?” He stroked your face, words alluring as ever now your resting bare bodies were tangled up together in a complete stand still.

“Nothing that I didn't enjoy, no.” You joked, lightly drawing intricate shapes on his arm with your fingertips, still harnessing the blemishing sting his ring had left under your cheekbone. “I’d say we're pretty well aquatinted now; wouldn’t you, Daddy?”

●●●●●●●

You could feel cool drips of perspiration slipping down your heated skin from your forehead to your collar bones and all you could do was hope they hadn't taken any of the concealer you had applied earlier this morning with them. You had needed to cover the bruise Duncan’s ring had so easily left on your cheek the night before, since you really didn't want your father or anyone else from work seeing it.

Duncan’s cock was curving in all the right places as he hammered into you. His pace and brutality showing you stars. He seemed even more confident than he did yesterday. Having had experience with you, he knew that you could take his most heinous savagery with delight and didn’t hold off one bit.

His huffs and groans were tantalising, growing louder and more uncontrolled as he fucked you into oblivion. His hand squeaked as it fell down the steamed mirror he leant on, leaving the glass behind you and finding its way to your jaw. He brought your face to his own and kissed you, loudly moaning into your open mouth.

You giggled through your mewls. “Mmm.. I thought I was the loud one, daddy.” You were amused that he had been teasing you so adamantly about the volume of your pleasure, when he was now the one making all the noise.

He paused, quirking an eyebrow at you before slamming his hips into you with a thrust so strong it made you practically scream out. “Oh, my apologises, sweetheart.” He smirked as he picked up his pace once more.

You wrapped your hands in his perfectly styled hair. You no longer cared who knew what was really happening in here, the thought didn’t even cross your mind. All you cared for was chasing your high. You rutted your hips on his and took his length entirely, feeling dangerously close to cumming.

“Fuckkk baby, daddy’s gonna cum okay?. Cum with me princess. Fall apart on my cock.” His unfocused thrusts had you coming undone in seconds. You held onto him tight, digging your nails into his shoulders and pulling at his curls as you cried out in ecstasy.

He shot his seed into you, feeling all his pent up frustrations from earlier at the table leave him as he pushed himself deep into your abused cunt. He didn’t even attempt to stifle his moans, too invested in finally receiving his release to realise just how loud he was being.

He rested his forehead on yours, your sweaty skin pressed against each other as you both attempted to catch your breathes after such a quick, ruthless fuck. You started laughing, finding it utterly ridiculous that you had spent the majority of a meeting you had been terrified for, getting fucked by your new boss (and the man you had fucked the night before) in a restaurant bathroom.

He joined in laughing, clearly finding humour within this strange situation too. Interrupting your laugh, he pushed his lips into yours, kissing you as if your lips were some kind of prize. You felt his cock slip from your cunt, his seed immediately spilling from it as you were left with a sudden, empty sensation.

He made quick work of zipping his pants back up and fastening his belt. You tugged your skirt back down to your thighs, being reminded of how Duncan had snatched your panties and stashed them in his pants pocket. You guessed you wouldn’t be getting them back anytime soon, which you were okay with, you just hoped nobody saw his remnants leaving you left the bathroom.

You flattened out your skirt and felt the wet sticky lemonade that still coated it. You had completely forgotten to clean it. “Fuck, my skirt's still sticky! Why would you order lemonade?” You whined; still mad he hadn’t just ordered some water.

Awaiting a reply, you turned to check your make up in the mirror. Luckily it was pretty light today, so it still looked good other than the bruise on your cheek now being slightly more obvious than before. What really concerned you was your neck. It was covered in every shade of purple and red you were aware existed. If your father and coworkers didn’t know what was going on from how weird you were being at the table before, or how long it had taken the two of you to finish in the bathroom, or the noises that were emitting from it, they would definitely know after seeing all the claims he had left on your skin.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think that spilt water would have been a good enough excuse to get you all alone in here.” He chuckled to himself, leaning over to rest his chin on your head and wrapping his arms around your waist as he joked over his mischievousness.

“But we should probably head back out there. I’m sure your father’s going to apprentice the beautiful mosaic I’ve painted across your neck” he kissed the bruises he spoke of as he watched you through the mirror.

You scoffed at him, gifting yourself one last look before completely giving up on finding a way you could make your face and neck appear more presentable for heading back to the table.

Duncan opened the bathroom door, nodding his head towards the hallway and waiting for you to hurry up and join him.

The two of you started walking back, your legs struggling to take your weight with how weak they had become. Your heels clicked along the floor, making you far more aware of how soon you would be sitting back down with everyone from work. Like a clock counting down to all the judgmental stares you would surly be receiving.

You kept your eyes trained on the floor as you took your seat at the table. Seths voice trailed off upon seeing the two of you sit down, leaving you both in the middle of an uncomfortable silence that felt near suffocating.

“What took so long!” You could hear the anger and perhaps embarrassment in Annettes voice as she whispered to Duncan. She looked towards you, glaring and scowling before retiring her vision back to him. She was probably hoping that what she assumed to have occurred hadn’t, but from the marks clearly decorating your neck, she would have known it to be true.

“Oh, we just couldn’t get the lemonade out of her skirt.” He tut as he spoke to his mother, smiling and playing off any obvious suspicions. “I’m sorry, really.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, dripping with a sincerity you knew to be false.

“So what was it we were discussing?” he speaks louder now, addressing the rest of the table.

“Uhh actually, I think we have a deal.” Seth replied, looking over at him and then the rest of the table. You heard your father mutter something in agreement, but it was meek. Quiet. He must have felt the awkward tension too. It was ripe in the air, like a shiver you couldn’t shake off. You didn't even want to look at him, knowing If anyone there felt most uncomfortable, it was him.

Saying their goodbyes and finishing up with any last details, everyone stood to shake hands and bid their farewells. You felt your fathers scowl as he came and stood beside you, but you didn't dare look at him. You were too ashamed to face him whilst still with your coworkers.

Duncan walked over to your father, looking more satisfied than ever with his eyes still focused on you as he thanked him for meeting and shook his hand firmly.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Y/L/N.” He let go of your fathers hand only to take a hold of yours. He grasped it delicately, a touch more gentle than he had ever shown you previously. Assuming he was trying you shake it, you were more than surprised when he raised it to his lips, kissing your rosey knuckles; still red from the tight grip you had, had on his hair earlier.

“I look forward to working with you in the future, Y/N.” He graced you with once last signature smirk as he walked away, leaving you with your father who was waiting for an explanation and apology for your disgusting and foolish behaviour.

Maybe it hadn’t been the worst way to spend lunch.

Tags: @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @ntxoza @angelicmichael @jimmason @michaellangdonstanaccount @blakescoven @7-wonders @ghostangels @fernfiction @brattylovee @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @instincts-baby

[asirensrage]

⛸️ 🌲 ☕️ 🔥

Hey! Thanks for asking!

⛸️ Ice Skating: tell us about a skill your OC has. Is it unusual? Something they worked hard on? Does it ever come in handy?

Hmm... Michelle can bake (which she uses to relieve stress). Kelly can skate (it's not really useful but she enjoys it). Amelia has epic research skills which she uses to excel. Darcy knows how to hotwire a car (which does come in handy but she won't admit she can do it if anyone asks).

🌲Pine Tree: share a snippet that shows a character being strong (whether that’s physically, mentally, emotionally, etc.)

Here's a scene from "Season 2" of Crossfire ;)

“I…” I turned slightly so that I could face him. “I need help.” I felt odd about asking him as soon as I said it.  He frowned slightly. “With what?” I took a deep breath. “You know I’m not okay. Everyone knows,” I said quickly. He went to interrupt and I held up a hand. “Wait, I need to say it before I convince myself not to. I can’t go home. I’ve been avoiding accepting that, accepting that this is my home now. I’m here for good. I just...it’s been hard and all I’ve done since I’ve been dropped in here is train and work. That’s it, Sam. There is literally nothing else in my life because I’ve been so afraid of being hurt again. I don’t...I don’t deal well with being hurt. I shut down and apparently throw myself into ways to protect myself. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until everyone kept pointing it out to me. I mean, I had Spike tell me that I wasn’t even living just...going through the motions.”  I looked at him. “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t…” I clenched my jaw for a second. Part of me was screaming at myself that this was a weakness. That even telling him this much was just going to cause me problems in the future. I tried to ignore it. Sam had never meant to hurt me. I knew that.

☕️ Hot Cocoa: what do your OCs do if they need reassurance or comfort? Do they talk to someone/fall back on a certain activity?

Hmm. A lot of my ocs are terrible at reaching out for comfort now that I think about it…

Amelia reads. Kate curls up on a couch with coffee and 90s sci-fi shows. Michelle does not reach out to anyone and retreats, usually maybe sleeps (Sam ends up tracking her down and offering comfort which she eventually accepts lol). Kelly curls up on a couch and reaches out to the people she cares about. It’s usually Dean or Michelle. Darcy generally goes and causes chaos to make herself feel better. Toni reaches out to her family and bakes.

🔥 Fireplace: what type of scene are you most comfortable writing? Emotional, action, dialogue-heavy?

Dialogue. I tend to get into a groove with dialogue heavy scenes. Action scenes are always hard because you have to think about the logistics of the movements. Same with sex scenes. Otherwise I’m also really comfortable with ANGST lol.

[savageandwise]



ooh if you're still up for the writing ask game - 8, 19, 22 :)

Hey! Thank you!!

8. Is what I write what I like to read?

Not necessarily. There are things I won't write that I'll read if they're well done. A really good AU, some forms of fluff.

19. This there something I always find myself repeating in my writing?

I like to have repetition to emphasise a moment: "over and over", "again and again"

I often have a scene in a bathtub

Floor sex

A description of books stacked like a tower.

I write about affairs a lot. I like the logistics of them and the way people justify them in their heads. Also how people use them to different ends depending.

I repeat a lot. You'd have to ask @twinka for more examples she's good at catching them.

22. Do I reread my old works, how do I feel about them?

I do reread. I usually think they sound better than I remember. I'm very hard on myself but after a while the hate wears off a bit. Sometimes I can't remember writing certain sentences and I don't know how they even came into my brain.