laurfilijames
Mrs. Will 'Ironhead' Miller
| she/her | 30's | lover of all things Charlie Hunnam | equestrian | trying my best to write something decent | 18+ |👑| requests: CLOSED
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Thank you @itspdameronthings 😘💗
"I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?"- Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Triple Frontier
Good. Thanks Frankie.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.
About fandom in general, interactions or lack thereof, how something you can feel so happy and passionate about can make you sad at the same time.
The idea of no longer sharing my fics has also been something that's crossed my mind on numerous occasions, but at the end of the day I WANT to share them. I am proud of them and I figure if they make me this happy, I hope they can make someone else happy too.
I continue to trek on, trying to compartmentalize my feelings and press on, creating fics I think others will enjoy as well, and praising the gorgeous man who plays gorgeous characters whose stories I love to change or extend.
Recently, I've felt guilt. Guilt that I haven't been creating and posting enough things for you to indulge in. And then I remember that in the last 4 weeks, I wrote and posted 3 fics.
3 fics where a majority of the reblogs are my own, and most of the notes are likes.
I'm feeling this way because of the lack of interaction. I'm not blaming or pointing fingers or trying to extend any guilt to any of you (and thank you endlessly to those who do reblog and comment and send messages and have conversations about them 💗) But I can safely say that this is a widespread issue across all fandoms alike.
It's disheartening. People leave and give up and have their creativity crushed to the point they no longer participate or share their wonderful art.
I came across a post that I reblogged yesterday that added another level onto all of this.
Artists and writers having to "market" and promote their work in hopes it'll help drum up excitement for what they have coming up.
As if taking the time and energy to create that fic of piece of art isn't enough, now we have to work like a full marketing team in hopes we will get a few more reblogs or comments.
I have seldom participated in tag games where you share snippets of WIPs etc because more often than not, the response to them are *crickets*. It's embarrassing and gives off that "no one is interested so why bother sharing it" vibe.
We shouldn't have to work that hard to get feedback on the things we share.
I know, and respect, that some people experience comment anxiety, but I promise you that if you're able to, whether it be a string of emojis or keysmashes or even a gif, you will be making a difference.
This happened to me yesterday.
Right when I felt like it's all fruitless, someone swooped in with a comment that gave me hope and reminded me why I do it. And it was on my least popular (and personal favourite) series to boot.
Because of this simple act of communication, my hope and motivation has been restored.
Now I know I'm going to get people saying "you should write for yourself" (I do) and I shouldn't rely on others to keep me motivated (I don't, I have Charlie Hunnam for that) but it's such a key component to all of this and I think most creators can agree to that.
So please, for the love of fandom and the things you love (the actors, the characters, the shows or films) PLEASE INTERACT WITH THE ARTISTS AND WRITERS WHO CREATE INCREDIBLE ART AND FICS FOR THEM.
You may not realize what an effect you have, but I promise you, you do, and it may even help save your favourite artist from abandoning it all.
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"I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?"- Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Triple Frontier
Good. Thanks Frankie.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.
About fandom in general, interactions or lack thereof, how something you can feel so happy and passionate about can make you sad at the same time.
The idea of no longer sharing my fics has also been something that's crossed my mind on numerous occasions, but at the end of the day I WANT to share them. I am proud of them and I figure if they make me this happy, I hope they can make someone else happy too.
I continue to trek on, trying to compartmentalize my feelings and press on, creating fics I think others will enjoy as well, and praising the gorgeous man who plays gorgeous characters whose stories I love to change or extend.
Recently, I've felt guilt. Guilt that I haven't been creating and posting enough things for you to indulge in. And then I remember that in the last 4 weeks, I wrote and posted 3 fics.
3 fics where a majority of the reblogs are my own, and most of the notes are likes.
I'm feeling this way because of the lack of interaction. I'm not blaming or pointing fingers or trying to extend any guilt to any of you (and thank you endlessly to those who do reblog and comment and send messages and have conversations about them 💗) But I can safely say that this is a widespread issue across all fandoms alike.
It's disheartening. People leave and give up and have their creativity crushed to the point they no longer participate or share their wonderful art.
I came across a post that I reblogged yesterday that added another level onto all of this.
Artists and writers having to "market" and promote their work in hopes it'll help drum up excitement for what they have coming up.
As if taking the time and energy to create that fic of piece of art isn't enough, now we have to work like a full marketing team in hopes we will get a few more reblogs or comments.
I have seldom participated in tag games where you share snippets of WIPs etc because more often than not, the response to them are *crickets*. It's embarrassing and gives off that "no one is interested so why bother sharing it" vibe.
We shouldn't have to work that hard to get feedback on the things we share.
I know, and respect, that some people experience comment anxiety, but I promise you that if you're able to, whether it be a string of emojis or keysmashes or even a gif, you will be making a difference.
This happened to me yesterday.
Right when I felt like it's all fruitless, someone swooped in with a comment that gave me hope and reminded me why I do it. And it was on my least popular (and personal favourite) series to boot.
Because of this simple act of communication, my hope and motivation has been restored.
Now I know I'm going to get people saying "you should write for yourself" (I do) and I shouldn't rely on others to keep me motivated (I don't, I have Charlie Hunnam for that) but it's such a key component to all of this and I think most creators can agree to that.
So please, for the love of fandom and the things you love (the actors, the characters, the shows or films) PLEASE INTERACT WITH THE ARTISTS AND WRITERS WHO CREATE INCREDIBLE ART AND FICS FOR THEM.
You may not realize what an effect you have, but I promise you, you do, and it may even help save your favourite artist from abandoning it all.
#on fandom#commenting#reblogging#interacting#laur is thinking out loud#and effectively embarrassing herself in the process#talking into the void
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Expensive
Pairing: Raymond Smith x female reader
Words: 4.3k
Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol. Fingering and oral sex (F receiving). Light dom/sub dynamics. Unprotected intercourse. Name calling (slut).
Summary: PWP but with feelings. Some saucy fun in lavish lingerie and a romp on the floor in front of the fireplace with our generous gentleman Ray.
A/N: I finally did it. I wrote for Raymondo. I've wanted to ever since I first watched The Gentlemen and finally landed an idea to have fun with. Enjoy!
---
Ray knew you were there before he even stepped foot inside the house.
It wasn’t planned; no discussion was had about you paying him a visit or spending time together tonight, but he had caught on to your devious plan by the tone of your voice when he spoke on the phone with you earlier, your excitement in your scheming not slipping past him.
He didn’t miss much, always attentive and observant to anything going on around him, but when it came to you he didn’t ever miss a thing.
He walked quietly to the porch, the sound of his shoes crunching against the wet grit on the bricks and the softness of the steady rain hitting his jacket the only noises registering in his ears, and unlocked the door just as he did any other night, though knowing you were waiting for him inside made his homecoming after a long day that much more appealing.
The intoxicating scent of your perfume hit him as soon as he stepped through the threshold, the smell of it so familiar and welcoming even with it being faint in the distance between where he assumed you waited for him in the living room and the entryway.
Not wanting to ruin your fun by not playing along with your little game, Ray walked through to the kitchen, acting as if he didn’t notice that your coat was draped over the back of one of the chairs or that you’d already helped yourself to the bottle of wine that he had a glass out of the night before; the level of the crisp red now sitting at the halfway mark rather than just below the neck.
He opened the cupboard that kept his glassware, reaching for one glass, then a second, a smile tugging at his lips when he heard your short, disappointed sigh.
“Spoilsport.”
“You quite like making yourself at home, don't you?” he asked, eyebrows raised as he filled both glasses with water; hydration favoured over the craveable taste of wine or scotch for the games he intended to play next.
“Breaking and entering is a felony…” he purred, removing his jacket while maintaining eye contact with you.
“It isn’t when the homeowner has gifted you the key needed to open the front door whenever you please.”
He sighed, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, “I told you I was busy.”
“I don't like being told no.”
Ray grabbed the water glasses and slowly made his way into the living room, depositing one on the small table beside the chair you were sprawled out in wearing nothing but a stunning set of lingerie.
He blinked quickly, a display of his rising frenzy, turning on his heels and taking a seat on the chair opposite you after looking you up and down.
You smiled, watching him cross his legs and fold his hands in his lap, staring at you intently like he was blatantly ignoring the fact that you were nearly naked and the balcony-style bra barely covered your nipples, the material that did cover them see-through.
“You don’t like being told no,” he spoke slowly, repeating your words to clarify or mock, you weren’t sure.
“No,” you said through a grin, uncrossing and recrossing your own legs to show off your crotchless panties, running your finger teasingly up along your stockings before adjusting the clips that connected them to the garter belt around your waist.
A groan that was hardly audible sounded from him as he sighed, taking a long sip out of his glass while watching you over the rim.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked, rising from his seat where he unbuttoned his cardigan and peeled it off his broad shoulders, revealing another layer of pristine clothing underneath.
“I’m quite certain a smart man such as yourself can think of something.”
“Flattery won’t help you now, darling,” he warned, having stalked over to you where he hovered above you dominantly.
“I appreciate you using a coaster,” he nodded to your wine glass. “At least you listen to some of the things you’re told.”
You sucked in a sharp breath in amusement at his comment, clasping the long-stemmed glass in question where you brought it to your ruby coloured lips.
“I strive to be a good girl.”
“You’re going to need to prove that.”
Ray couldn’t help but smirk, not at all serious about being displeased that you were here, feeling quite the opposite, in fact, even if you weren’t primed and ready to provide him with anything he asked.
He had regretted it immediately when he told you that morning that you wouldn't be seeing each other tonight, the usual comforting warmth of his tea tasting bitter on his tongue after he had said it, knowing all the while that all he really wanted was to relax with you and indulge in every simple pleasure imaginable, his chest tightening with hope that you would be your defiant self when you accepted his denial with a simple and suspiciously bright ‘okay’.
You returned his smile, shifting slightly in your seat on account of how adoringly he was looking at you, your arousal and need for him growing as you watched him unfasten the buttons on each cuff of his shirtsleeves and began rolling them up his toned forearms.
The wearied look in his eyes was highlighted by his glasses, his features appearing more serious than they usually were, making your heart ache in wanting to take away whatever it was that was worrying him.
“You look expensive,” he spoke quietly, almost a whisper, his focus still on his shirt as he rolled the second sleeve neatly to his elbow.
“I am expensive, Ray,” you quipped, your tone light but quiet as well.
One eyebrow rose at your answer, his head tilting slightly as his arms fell back to his side and he straightened himself, looking down at you.
You reached forward, smoothing your hand over his stomach, unfastening the buttons on his waistcoat effortlessly before grabbing onto his tie to pull him closer to you.
The smell of his almost worn off cologne and rich beard oil mixed with a sweeter hint of tobacco and marijuana, awakening more desire in you and making you draw in a deeper breath to try to capture more of it, of him, as you brought your face closer to his body, his warmth radiating off of him and making you moan softly.
Ray followed your silent directions as you continued to tug on his tie, kneeling in front of you, his blue eyes warm and bright compared to how they appeared a short moment ago.
Your body tensed slightly when his hands landed on your knees, his thumbs brushing them gently while you pulled the knot out of his tie and slipped it from his collar, admiring every part of his chest that was revealed to you as you undid each button on his striped shirt that now held wrinkles in it despite having been meticulously ironed that morning.
“What’s the price?” Ray inquired, running his long fingers up your thigh to make it tremble under his soft strokes.
You smiled, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, slipping your hands under his shirt to caress over his strong, smooth muscles.
Watching his eyelids fall shut as he relaxed into your touch, you continued to rub him, moving everywhere you could from his neck down to the flaxen hairs that crept out from the top of his jeans, and back up again where you found his steady heartbeat.
You stilled, your palm resting where his heart began to thump harder against it, his eyes opening in realization as to what your price was.
He smiled, bringing out the creases around his eyes and mouth, a twinkle shining in them that made your own heart leap. His hands came up to hold your cheeks, his eyes traveling down from yours to your lips, his tongue peeking out to lick his own quickly before he leaned forward and kissed you.
It was almost liberating to think that you didn't have a clue that he had settled the cost pretty much the moment he met you, that he would continue to pay with it over and over until you did realize you had captured his solitary heart, but in the meantime he would take every bit of joy out of pretending he owed you a fortune of his love.
You sighed into his kiss, any tension you felt leaving your body as you relished in the feel of his tongue and the softness of his beard on your chin and lips, arching your back in order to get yourself closer to him and deepen it.
Continuing to kiss until many moments were gone unnoticed, you tangled your fingers in his neatly fixed hair, disrupting it enough that your nails ran over his scalp and sent tingles down his spine, rousing him from this alluring inebriation.
A low growl sounded from him as he dug his fingers into the flesh on your thighs, looking at you with a dark hunger that sparked your soul and every other wanton desire waiting to be set free.
“Stand up, turn around, and bend over.”
His demand came out between heaving breaths, his resolve quickly tumbling apart before you, and with a sweet smile and love in your eyes for the man you would obey without hesitation, you slowly stood.
Ray never broke eye contact with you, his dominance clear and resolute despite him being the one on his knees while you stood tall above him, a trusting assurance glowing in his crystal blue eyes that you always saw whenever you were with him.
Feeling reluctant to turn away from him but eager for what was next all at once, you did, biting your lip as you hinged at your hips and gripped the back of the chair you had been sitting in, leaning forward to stick your ass out invitingly.
You gasped, Ray’s lips and silky beard meeting the inside of your right thigh, peppering kisses up along it and back down again slowly, his mouth tracing the edge of your stocking.
The wood frame of the chair creaked under your grasp as Ray continued to tease you, his lips and hands sending you into a frenzy that you had to try to contain, your legs shifting to rub them together and present yourself even more to him.
“Patience,” he chimed, fully aware of what he was doing to you, making your head fall between your arms that braced in front of you.
The gold ring that sat on his pinky caught on your nylons as he ran his hand up the inside of your leg once more, the tip of his thumb grazing your folds with a teasing nudge that made you let out a breathy sigh when he reached the apex of them.
“You’re beautiful,” he praised, his confident and evenly-toned voice softer. “And you’re mine.”
You felt so powerful, knowing he was admiring every bit of you with genuine interest and affection, his attention to detail carried over to the most intimate parts of your body, all while reminding you of his claim on you that made you soar higher than ever.
“Fuck, Ray…” you hissed, your grip hardening on the chair as his nose skimmed beside your aching core, his long, slow inhale echoing loudly in your ears.
He groaned appreciatively when his tongue swiped through your wet, immediately going back for more with a second broad stroke, your legs already shaking from how good it felt.
Your whines grew as his tongue probed inside you, taking turns with angling his chin to reach the front of you and flicking your clit while his nose buried in your soaked cunt, the precision in his pattern and rhythm bringing you dangerously close to your climax.
He wouldn’t let you have it quite that easy though, and halting his feast on you, he gave one last lick around your puckered hole and slapped your cheek as he abandoned you completely, standing with a low groan.
Running a hand over his beard, he stared you down maliciously, amused at the sight of you still bent over and writhing, your core a soppy mess just waiting to be fucked by him.
“Go over there and wait for me,” he spoke steadily, a contrast from how his chest rose and fell sharply and his cheeks were tinged with a rosy blush.
Unsteady legs brought you over to the space in front of the fireplace, and you watched with a restlessness as Ray reached for a remote on the coffee table, pressing a button before placing it back in its spot.
The fireplace ignited with a loud fwoosh, the propane instantly bringing flames up to a roaring burn, the sound startling you and making you jump.
“Nothing to be afraid of…” he cooed, smirking at you, his playful reassurance making your need for him burst just as the fire had.
He stood there watching you for a moment, slowly peeling off his waistcoat that had been left open along with his shirt, leaving you unsure what to do with yourself in the meantime.
You let your hand travel slowly down your chest, grazing between your breasts and lower until you reached your exposed core, only to be stopped.
“Ah, ah,” he tutted, his eyebrows high on his forehead.
Although you let out a huff, you did your best to hide your disappointment, willing patience to grace you as you continued to watch him undress himself layer by layer, and far slower than he needed to.
To make matters worse, Ray proceeded to neatly fold his clothes and place them on the sofa, effectively running up any patience you had mustered, leaving you to take in his perfectly sculpted body and his ivory skin that called for your lips to touch.
“Jesus, Ray…” you muttered, only to quiet yourself with the look he gave you.
He extended his finger, pointing at the floor beside you, unclasping his watch from his wrist with the other hand.
“On the ground.”
His order was calm and collected, as if you expected anything less from him, and you licked your lips as you sank down to the carpet that was already warm from the fire, feeling your arousal drip from you as you moved.
“Now,” he said, taking his glasses off and placing them carefully beside his pile of clothes. “What to do with you…” he pondered out loud, stalking over to you as he grasped his hard cock with his hand and began stroking it.
“Put me out of my fucking misery…” you complained under your breath, squirming on your knees.
He grinned, “Ah, just a naughty girl begging to have her cunt filled in.”
His accusation washed over you like a drug, making your attitude vanish as quickly as his words came off his tongue, unable but also not wanting to deny that what he said was completely true.
Standing tall in front of you now, he glanced down at you, his mouth parted slightly, his hand still pumping his shaft as he brought it close to your face.
“Yes, Ray,” you whispered, ready to beg and worship at his feet if you had to, feeling the most desperate you ever had for that cock and how intensely he always pleasured you.
He tapped his leaking head against your cheek, and you sucked in a deep breath, inhaling his musky scent as you subtly titled your head closer to his groin, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting all of him.
“As you wish.”
Ray stepped behind you, his finger tracing along your jawline softly so that your head tipped back, relishing in such a simple touch that would only be the beginning of so much more.
He joined you on the floor, kneeling directly behind you so his strong quads met the back of your thighs, his cock nudging at your folds to tease you. His hands wrapped around your front, one traveling upward while the other went down, landing on your throat and your hot cunt where he stopped, his mouth beside your ear.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, the depth of his voice making you shiver.
“You.”
His breath fanned out on your searing skin when he chuckled softly, “You have me.”
He kissed your neck, his lips slow to move but powerful in their action; sucking and pressing into your flesh, his teeth gliding along where your pulse hammered furiously.
You moaned, the sensation of his kisses and the way his deft fingers toyed with your nipple already making you insane with lust, and when he slipped his other fingers inside you, you prayed for him to never stop.
He always knew exactly how to build you up quickly, removing his fingers from you where he rubbed your clit with your slick while continuing to pinch your nipple through the thin lace of your bra, his cock sliding back and forth between your legs where it threatened to breach your entrance as he moved his hips.
Hazy from ecstasy, you didn’t notice when Ray had reached for a pillow off the chair beside you and placed it in front of you, the tartan fabric soft to your touch when you leaned forward and grabbed onto it with both hands.
“Fuck…” Ray hissed, admiring the view you provided him with as he stroked you from behind, his fingers easily sliding in and out of you again.
You moved down onto your elbows, thankful for his consideration for having them cushioned by the pillow and not the hardwood floor, but knew you would sacrifice having bruises mark your skin for this without question.
He exchanged his fingers for his cock, pressing his engorged head against your hole, smearing his precum onto you in slow, circular motions until he couldn't wait any longer.
A long moan came from him as he pushed his cock inside you, inch by inch, savouring every moment of it until he filled you completely. Slowly, he dragged back out, his cock coated in your milky wet that made his mouth water and eager for more, slamming back into you where you cried and jolted forward slightly from his force.
Ray didn’t hold back, letting out all of the day’s frustrations on you while also conveying everything you made him feel, thrusting into you harshly until a layer of sweat broke out over his skin.
It was difficult to keep yourself upright on your elbows, his vigorous tempo forcing you onto your chest, feeling his body lower down to cover your back where he kept up his brutal pace.
Gripping under your left leg, Ray guided it up to lay at an angle, his hand slipping under your body to reach around for your clit, massaging it with perfectly rough strokes while his cock pummeled your g-spot with each blow.
Spit smeared over the plaid pattern of the pillow, your mouth unable to control the evidence of your pleasure between that and your cries, the sound of your wet skin meeting with his sending you close to the edge.
“Ray…I’m- fuck! I’m close!” you wailed, the admission of it making your climax barrel forward faster.
You clenched around him, rolling your hips up and back against his in a hurried, desperate pace, the seconds of waiting for him to grant you permission feeling like a cruel eternity.
“Are you?” he asked, a hint of malice laced in his tone.
He stopped rubbing your clit, halting your orgasm in its tracks, your grip on the pillow loosening slightly as you whined in frustration.
“You know you’re to fucking ask,” he reminded you, his voice somehow calm and his expression composed as you glanced over your shoulder at him.
You dared to smile at him, making him tilt his head in warning and resume his barrage on you, fucking you harder than before.
“Fuck, Ray!” you whined, the rate at which he brought you right back to where he left you making you tingle from head to toe, that blissful heat coiling at the base of your spine.
Somehow, you managed to bring yourself back up onto your hands, meeting his thrusts with your hips in a frantic need, his hand returning between your legs to circle your swollen bud while his other tore at your chest, pulling at the lace covering your breasts until they fell out of their covering.
“Fuck!” he roared, pawing at your tits as they shook to his movements, his own climax not far off.
His grunts spurred you on, hearing how good you made him feel taking you to a place of no return, and you rushed to ask for your permission before it was too late.
“Can I come, Ray?” you cried, your words coming out as a weak and trembling mess as you did your best to hold off the inevitable.
“Yes! Fuck…” he breathed. “Come around that cock you fucking slut!” he growled, his pace increasing as he fucked you senseless, throwing you into one of the most intense orgasms he had ever given you.
You shuddered as you choked him with your cunt, grinding on his fingers that remained firm on your clit, feeling your high bring out his own as he pounded you harder and harder until he pulsed inside you, generously dragging out your climax with his.
Ray watched his cock slide in and out of you, creamy cum leaking out with it as he did, slowing his movements gradually as you both came down from your highs, the sound of your ragged breathing the only thing heard over the soft roar of the powered flames coming from the fireplace.
Sweat glistened in the dip of your lower back, and you couldn’t look more heavenly as you glowed from the heat on your skin and the wetness between your legs, your luxurious set of lingerie beautifully disheveled.
Trails of sweat dripped down his own body, and as he remained inside you until he no longer could, he smoothed his hair back with his hands, fixing the stray pieces that had been misplaced during his efforts.
He leaned over and retrieved his glasses from the sofa, replacing them on his face with a few quick blinks, watching out of the corner of his eye as you carefully stood on wobbly legs from your spot, trying not to make a mess on the expensive threads that were soft on your feet.
Ray gracefully laid down on the carpet, his chest rising and falling heavily as he relaxed, his hand splayed across his abdomen comfortably while the other arm rested above his head.
Nothing was said as you grabbed your bag where it sat against the wall between the living room and kitchen, getting your clothes out to get ready to make your exit, not wanting to disrupt Ray’s night more than you already had.
He sighed, his glasses pushing up as he pinched his nose with his fingers, wishing you didn’t feel the need to whisk yourself away like you were nothing more to him than something to wet his cock.
Taking a deep inhale and blowing it slowly out through his mouth, he tipped his head, able to watch you where he knew you had strategically placed yourself between pieces of furniture for him to see.
You were bent over, stepping your feet into your shoes after having slipped your skirt over your waist, your bare pussy that he had just finished ruining on full display in those crotchless panties Ray knew he would be thinking about for days after.
“Come back over here.”
His voice cut through the room with a demand to be heard, making you pause in reaching for your shirt, a smile tugging at your lips.
“I’ll count to three.”
Once again, his warning came out far gentler than it should, his ability to so nonchalantly list off orders in that sultry voice making excitement bloom in your belly.
You turned on your heel to see him staring up at the ceiling, looking as divine as ever in the warm light of the fire that flickered over his features, his naked form a rare sight for anyone but you to see with it so frequently covered in layers of posh garments.
Ray was a bit recluse, and you didn't take his affection toward you for granted even for a second, smiling with a sense of pride and devotion as you kicked off your shoes and slowly made your way back over to the man your heart had begun to miss already.
He welcomed you by opening his arm, giving you space to tuck yourself up beside him, your head finding a spot on his chest where his heart thrummed in your ear.
“I wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place…” you reminded him, feeling slightly guilty over showing up unannounced.
Ray hummed, always carefully assessing whatever thoughts were about to pass through his lips, his thumb rubbing your arm languidly.
“No,” he blinked quickly, his tone lighter. “But I’m glad that you are.”
As much as Ray tried keeping things neat and tidy between you, he couldn’t ignore how tangled you had become in his soul, his thoughts distracted by you more times than he would care to admit or ever want the Boss to know of, something he swore would never happen taking place before his very eyes without any intention of stopping it.
Ray pressed a kiss to your temple, thinking how he had paid the price a long time ago with you, the expense of your love something he would go broke for a million times over, letting you take careful possession of the one thing he would never pay out to anyone else.
---
Please consider reblogging and commenting if you enjoyed reading this story! 💗
Taglist:
@stealfromthedevil @maggiemayhemnj @thedreadandthefugitivemind @rhoorl
#raymond smith#the gentlemen#raymond smith smut#raymond smith x female reader#charlie hunnam#raymond smith x reader#charlie hunnam characters#ray smith
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And isn't writing out those excited comments about everything you enjoyed in the story one of the best feelings? I know it is for me when I read something incredible written by someone so talented. Keysmashes, reaction gifs, quoting your favourite lines back... it's almost as fun as actually reading the story.
I'm so glad that clicked for you and now you're no longer as intimidated to leave some love and feedback for the author 💗💗💗 I'd be confident in saying that every author would be thrilled to receive your comments and would absolutely be responding because I know whenever I get a comment I am BUZZING and need to express my gratitude to them.
Interactions and conversations is what keeps fandoms alive, so thank you for being a reason why it does 💗
"I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?"- Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Triple Frontier
Good. Thanks Frankie.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.
About fandom in general, interactions or lack thereof, how something you can feel so happy and passionate about can make you sad at the same time.
The idea of no longer sharing my fics has also been something that's crossed my mind on numerous occasions, but at the end of the day I WANT to share them. I am proud of them and I figure if they make me this happy, I hope they can make someone else happy too.
I continue to trek on, trying to compartmentalize my feelings and press on, creating fics I think others will enjoy as well, and praising the gorgeous man who plays gorgeous characters whose stories I love to change or extend.
Recently, I've felt guilt. Guilt that I haven't been creating and posting enough things for you to indulge in. And then I remember that in the last 4 weeks, I wrote and posted 3 fics.
3 fics where a majority of the reblogs are my own, and most of the notes are likes.
I'm feeling this way because of the lack of interaction. I'm not blaming or pointing fingers or trying to extend any guilt to any of you (and thank you endlessly to those who do reblog and comment and send messages and have conversations about them 💗) But I can safely say that this is a widespread issue across all fandoms alike.
It's disheartening. People leave and give up and have their creativity crushed to the point they no longer participate or share their wonderful art.
I came across a post that I reblogged yesterday that added another level onto all of this.
Artists and writers having to "market" and promote their work in hopes it'll help drum up excitement for what they have coming up.
As if taking the time and energy to create that fic of piece of art isn't enough, now we have to work like a full marketing team in hopes we will get a few more reblogs or comments.
I have seldom participated in tag games where you share snippets of WIPs etc because more often than not, the response to them are *crickets*. It's embarrassing and gives off that "no one is interested so why bother sharing it" vibe.
We shouldn't have to work that hard to get feedback on the things we share.
I know, and respect, that some people experience comment anxiety, but I promise you that if you're able to, whether it be a string of emojis or keysmashes or even a gif, you will be making a difference.
This happened to me yesterday.
Right when I felt like it's all fruitless, someone swooped in with a comment that gave me hope and reminded me why I do it. And it was on my least popular (and personal favourite) series to boot.
Because of this simple act of communication, my hope and motivation has been restored.
Now I know I'm going to get people saying "you should write for yourself" (I do) and I shouldn't rely on others to keep me motivated (I don't, I have Charlie Hunnam for that) but it's such a key component to all of this and I think most creators can agree to that.
So please, for the love of fandom and the things you love (the actors, the characters, the shows or films) PLEASE INTERACT WITH THE ARTISTS AND WRITERS WHO CREATE INCREDIBLE ART AND FICS FOR THEM.
You may not realize what an effect you have, but I promise you, you do, and it may even help save your favourite artist from abandoning it all.
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You know it!! I've got enough for a small army. Or say 4 Delta Force Warriors... I'm willing to share
tiramisu am i right
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"I'm gonna say something. Are you listening?"- Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Triple Frontier
Good. Thanks Frankie.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately.
About fandom in general, interactions or lack thereof, how something you can feel so happy and passionate about can make you sad at the same time.
The idea of no longer sharing my fics has also been something that's crossed my mind on numerous occasions, but at the end of the day I WANT to share them. I am proud of them and I figure if they make me this happy, I hope they can make someone else happy too.
I continue to trek on, trying to compartmentalize my feelings and press on, creating fics I think others will enjoy as well, and praising the gorgeous man who plays gorgeous characters whose stories I love to change or extend.
Recently, I've felt guilt. Guilt that I haven't been creating and posting enough things for you to indulge in. And then I remember that in the last 4 weeks, I wrote and posted 3 fics.
3 fics where a majority of the reblogs are my own, and most of the notes are likes.
I'm feeling this way because of the lack of interaction. I'm not blaming or pointing fingers or trying to extend any guilt to any of you (and thank you endlessly to those who do reblog and comment and send messages and have conversations about them 💗) But I can safely say that this is a widespread issue across all fandoms alike.
It's disheartening. People leave and give up and have their creativity crushed to the point they no longer participate or share their wonderful art.
I came across a post that I reblogged yesterday that added another level onto all of this.
Artists and writers having to "market" and promote their work in hopes it'll help drum up excitement for what they have coming up.
As if taking the time and energy to create that fic of piece of art isn't enough, now we have to work like a full marketing team in hopes we will get a few more reblogs or comments.
I have seldom participated in tag games where you share snippets of WIPs etc because more often than not, the response to them are *crickets*. It's embarrassing and gives off that "no one is interested so why bother sharing it" vibe.
We shouldn't have to work that hard to get feedback on the things we share.
I know, and respect, that some people experience comment anxiety, but I promise you that if you're able to, whether it be a string of emojis or keysmashes or even a gif, you will be making a difference.
This happened to me yesterday.
Right when I felt like it's all fruitless, someone swooped in with a comment that gave me hope and reminded me why I do it. And it was on my least popular (and personal favourite) series to boot.
Because of this simple act of communication, my hope and motivation has been restored.
Now I know I'm going to get people saying "you should write for yourself" (I do) and I shouldn't rely on others to keep me motivated (I don't, I have Charlie Hunnam for that) but it's such a key component to all of this and I think most creators can agree to that.
So please, for the love of fandom and the things you love (the actors, the characters, the shows or films) PLEASE INTERACT WITH THE ARTISTS AND WRITERS WHO CREATE INCREDIBLE ART AND FICS FOR THEM.
You may not realize what an effect you have, but I promise you, you do, and it may even help save your favourite artist from abandoning it all.
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Rain
Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader
Words: 600+
Warnings: Intense make out session outside The Abbey that is suggestive to leading to public sex.
Summary: Not even the rain can stop you and Pete from keeping your hands to yourselves.
A/N: I have at least four other WIPs I should be working on but this happened and here you go.
---
It smelled like rain.
It was about to downpour, but you didn't care.
The cold wind rushed around you, pushing you closer to Pete and his endless warmth, your hair whipping out and then back against your face again, only to have him card through it with his long fingers in an attempt to keep it out of his way.
He never lacked passion, his barrage starting long before you had even made it through the doors of The Abbey, not paying any mind to who bore witness to the things most people would wait to do in private. His hands had been all over you while inside, lingering and teasing, and stepping out into the freedom of the open air only seemed to encourage him more, the one that had swept your hair away slipping down to land on the column of your neck where he applied enough pressure to make you suck in a deep breath, deepening the reach of his tongue in your mouth as he did. His other hand skirted along your waist, grazing your skin in a playful manner that almost tickled and made you squirm, the difference between his two touches and the varying sensations effectively intoxifying you.
“Pete,” you breathed, his smile looking blurry as you tried to focus when he parted from you, and now you were the one clawing at him to bring him back to you. Gripping at his tan trenchcoat, you crashed against him, exchanging the smell of the oncoming weather with his skin and the last pint he had downed, swallowing his chuckle as you explored his mouth with your tongue eagerly.
Any amusement he found in this was quickly rid of, his moans reverberating through you when you ground your hips against his, not feeling shy in rubbing yourself on his hard bulge as if there were no clothes separating you.
“Fucking hell,” he huffed, pausing as if deciding whether it would be better to stop before going too far or simply abandon any decency he had left, ultimately choosing the latter as he looked down at your kiss-swollen lips and touched them with his thumb, moving his body forward to force yours back against the brick wall behind you when he captured you in another claiming kiss.
His lips needed yours, a desperation transferring from him to you that made it seem like if he didn't kiss you enough, the skies would open up from the power of his fury alone.
Heavy drops of rain pelted off his coat, the sound almost able to overtake that of your wet and frantic kisses, and feeling the rain start to bead down your faces only seemed to add to the frenzy, like Mother Nature was encouraging you to let all inhibitions go.
The wind picked up again, passing through the limited space between your bodies, your nipples pressing against your shirt in a pleasurably painful way as they peaked into hard pebbles, increasing your arousal to a level that had you whining into Pete’s mouth while finding it difficult to continue breathing.
The assault of the biting cold contrasting to Pete’s warmth along with the pummeling of rain on your exposed bits of skin had you dizzy, the excitement and anticipation of how far both of you were willing to go standing outside the pub adding to your overstimulation, and when he dove down to kiss your neck, you knew there was no way of getting out of this now.
You closed your eyes, tearing at his body under his jumper, begging with your hands for him to give you everything right then and there, your fingers acting on their own and instinctively finding the button on his jeans as he continued to nip and suck at your wet skin.
It was raining, but you didn’t care.
---
Comments and reblogs are the lifeline of fanfic, so if you enjoyed reading this story, please consider sharing your thoughts with me and others! 💗
Taglist: @stealfromthedevil @theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13
#pete dunham#green street hooligans#pete dunham x female reader#charlie hunnam#pete dunham x reader#charlie hunnam characters
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🫠 it's perfect. You're doing the lords work over here
I threw the making of Rebel Moon in the background and needed this as a GIF. Searched and found nothing so I did my best. Maybe someone will be inspired to make a better one because this one is rough... 🙃
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I just wanna tell my silly little stories without needing to think about possible marketing techniques, damn it.
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I was tagged by @navybrat817 and @nerdieforpedro to share something from a WIP, and while I tend not to participate in too many WIP-sharing tag games, my rule is if I'm tagged more than once, I'll do it 🤣
Here is a little snippet from an untitled (😑) Will Miller fic that is very light and smutty and playful.
He gave your thigh a squeeze before reaching for your hand, bringing it up to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, letting it linger there so you were able to feel his breath and the soft prickling of his beard.
Pulling up to a stop light, Will glanced over at you, smiling against your hand as he sent you a wink that ignited even more fire through your veins.
“You look good, sweetheart,” he praised, his familiar drawl low and enticing.
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I was tagged by @navybrat817 and @nerdieforpedro to share something from a WIP, and while I tend not to participate in too many WIP-sharing tag games, my rule is if I'm tagged more than once, I'll do it 🤣
Here is a little snippet from an untitled (😑) Will Miller fic that is very light and smutty and playful.
He gave your thigh a squeeze before reaching for your hand, bringing it up to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, letting it linger there so you were able to feel his breath and the soft prickling of his beard.
Pulling up to a stop light, Will glanced over at you, smiling against your hand as he sent you a wink that ignited even more fire through your veins.
“You look good, sweetheart,” he praised, his familiar drawl low and enticing.
20 notes
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Text
Rain
Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader
Words: 600+
Warnings: Intense make out session outside The Abbey that is suggestive to leading to public sex.
Summary: Not even the rain can stop you and Pete from keeping your hands to yourselves.
A/N: I have at least four other WIPs I should be working on but this happened and here you go.
---
It smelled like rain.
It was about to downpour, but you didn't care.
The cold wind rushed around you, pushing you closer to Pete and his endless warmth, your hair whipping out and then back against your face again, only to have him card through it with his long fingers in an attempt to keep it out of his way.
He never lacked passion, his barrage starting long before you had even made it through the doors of The Abbey, not paying any mind to who bore witness to the things most people would wait to do in private. His hands had been all over you while inside, lingering and teasing, and stepping out into the freedom of the open air only seemed to encourage him more, the one that had swept your hair away slipping down to land on the column of your neck where he applied enough pressure to make you suck in a deep breath, deepening the reach of his tongue in your mouth as he did. His other hand skirted along your waist, grazing your skin in a playful manner that almost tickled and made you squirm, the difference between his two touches and the varying sensations effectively intoxifying you.
“Pete,” you breathed, his smile looking blurry as you tried to focus when he parted from you, and now you were the one clawing at him to bring him back to you. Gripping at his tan trenchcoat, you crashed against him, exchanging the smell of the oncoming weather with his skin and the last pint he had downed, swallowing his chuckle as you explored his mouth with your tongue eagerly.
Any amusement he found in this was quickly rid of, his moans reverberating through you when you ground your hips against his, not feeling shy in rubbing yourself on his hard bulge as if there were no clothes separating you.
“Fucking hell,” he huffed, pausing as if deciding whether it would be better to stop before going too far or simply abandon any decency he had left, ultimately choosing the latter as he looked down at your kiss-swollen lips and touched them with his thumb, moving his body forward to force yours back against the brick wall behind you when he captured you in another claiming kiss.
His lips needed yours, a desperation transferring from him to you that made it seem like if he didn't kiss you enough, the skies would open up from the power of his fury alone.
Heavy drops of rain pelted off his coat, the sound almost able to overtake that of your wet and frantic kisses, and feeling the rain start to bead down your faces only seemed to add to the frenzy, like Mother Nature was encouraging you to let all inhibitions go.
The wind picked up again, passing through the limited space between your bodies, your nipples pressing against your shirt in a pleasurably painful way as they peaked into hard pebbles, increasing your arousal to a level that had you whining into Pete’s mouth while finding it difficult to continue breathing.
The assault of the biting cold contrasting to Pete’s warmth along with the pummeling of rain on your exposed bits of skin had you dizzy, the excitement and anticipation of how far both of you were willing to go standing outside the pub adding to your overstimulation, and when he dove down to kiss your neck, you knew there was no way of getting out of this now.
You closed your eyes, tearing at his body under his jumper, begging with your hands for him to give you everything right then and there, your fingers acting on their own and instinctively finding the button on his jeans as he continued to nip and suck at your wet skin.
It was raining, but you didn’t care.
---
Comments and reblogs are the lifeline of fanfic, so if you enjoyed reading this story, please consider sharing your thoughts with me and others! 💗
Taglist: @stealfromthedevil @theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13
#pete dunham#green street hooligans#pete dunham x female reader#charlie hunnam#pete dunham x reader#charlie hunnam characters
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