#I have no sweet clue how the game works all I know is Art Pretty and my girlfriend's concepts are exceedingly awesome and I wanna play doll | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lady-ashfade · 8 months

Text

The Sketch Of Sin.

Astarion Ancunín x Artist!Reader Drabble

I have not played the game yet so forgive if I get anything wrong, this is just based off of the things I have seen.

Warnings; Suggestive, Teasing, me just being a simp, s*xual themes, just him being him.

Astarion has always allured people in on his looks, his past making it known he was attractive. The cocky man says so many times just how hot he is and how he could have anyone on their knees. But...He often wonders what he actually looks like. It's been forever since he’s actually saw himself in the reflection that he forgot what he truly looked like.

Days after fighting and traveling through the world, wounds and brushes covered your body as you ache from exhaustion. The arts are what you relax with in your tent to take the worlds weight off your shoulders. Many sketches, of the many views you have encountered over the months or people you surround yourself with filled the thick pages. You tried to keep it hidden from others of the talent you possessed, so you hid the book underneath your pillow.

Of course, it didn't stay hidden with astarion visiting your tent. He had a urge to visit you and he did just that, needing to see his pet that made him very happy. Much to his disappointment you were no where in sight. A sigh left his lips and walks towards your bed to await for your arrival. He threw himself of the bed and crossed his feet, smirking as he thought of your sweet face being surprised.

His hand reached underneath the pillow to give him some support but something hard hit his skin. Frowning his brows in confusion he took ahold of the object and pulled it out, a book now resting in his hands. "What is this?" He asked with a amused tone, hoping it was a diary of some sort. Astarion was impatient as he yanks the book open waiting to see the words written but non met his eyes, only scratches.

Beautiful artwork.

His amusement turned to awe at the thought of you being this talented. He looked through the pages and remembered each place you had drawn, but your eyes saw them in a much brighter light. Then he saw the companions he worked with, all of them smiling and in heavy details. He was sucked in and couldn't take his eyes away from the book, you were magnificent.

His fingers turned the page and he was met with someone so familiar yet unknowing. With each detail he took in he began to realize it was him he was looking at, more pretty then he remembered. Was this what he looked like? Or, was this how you saw him? His chest filled with confidence and pride.

He heard the flapping sound of the tent opening and he looked up to see you, his pretty little pet. Your face widen in surprise for a moment and then to the book in his hands, him loving every second. You had not a clue of what to do. "Darling, come and sit." He leaned up to pat the place next to him.

"What do you have?" You asked taking a few steps forward and he could tell they were slowed and hesitated. He chuckled, taking his eyes away from you and back to the book. "Clearly something you don't want me to have." His smirk only grew as you huffed and crossed your arms, glaring at him.

“Don't be that way, you left it all alone- Not even a good hiding spot. Tsk tsk, thought you'd know better.” You flushed and hopped onto the bed to take it from him, but failed miserably. His arm pushed you back and his other holding the book away from you. His laugh filled the tent and warmed your ears, but not taking you away from the embarrassing moment.

"Give it back.” You demanded. A thin line on your lips as your eyes dimmed down, along with the brows above meeting them halfway. “And way would I do that?" He was having too much fun messing with you by the sound in his voice. He was teasing you.

"Come on, it's private and I want it-" stopping your sentence he pressed his lips to yours and grabbed ahold on your chin with two fingers. As mad as you were at him... His affection was never worth giving up. He pulled away only a inch from your lips and breaths against them, "You captured me quite well, my darling pet."

The compliment made your cheeks feel warm and body tempered rise up at the praise. He was aware of the effects he had on you, even the slightest of ways. His hands meet your chest and push you back onto the bed, his body moving away from you and off the bed. You mumbled in confusion but he shh'd you.

"I want to pose for the next one." You watch him undo the shirt he had on ever so slowly then push it above his head. No matter how many times you see his body it always leaves you wanting more, to worship the ground he walks on. He eyes found yours as he reached just below the top of his pants, a glint of mischief shining in his pupils.

"Think you can handle that, little pet?"

#Astarion Ancunín #astarion ancunin #Astarion Ancunín x reader #Astarion Ancunin x reader #astarion x reader #astarion drabble #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate x reader #astarion #baldur's gate astarion

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atinylittlepain · 3 months

Text

Warm

college!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

Steve gets flustered in an art museum. She kind of likes it.

18+ smut, normal hairy female bodies, steve is kind of a perv in the best way, smut duh, and verrryyyyyy sweet, also robin and eddie being good roommates

note: the painting that Andy and Steve look at is called l'origine du monde by Gustave Corbet and you can check it out here. This fic is for bush (not the president) and bush only, thanks.

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

Steve is a good guy, right? Right. Respectful, respectable, two percent in his cheerios in the morning, light wash denim and clean sneakers, and he flosses two times a day, clean bill at every dentist appointment and he shows it, curls half a smile when he holds the door open for girls on campus, all ease, all-American and alright. Studying business, and of course he is, though his parents don’t know about the women’s studies minor he picked up all because of a flushed little crush on a professor that never amounted to anything, coupled with Robin strong-arming him into taking a few more classes with her. But that’s okay, he likes the classes, and he likes the classmates.

“Do you need a partner?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was just going to work alone actually.” Big scarf tucked up around her neck and a big coat wrapped up around her and she barely even glances at him down the slope of her nose, already refocusing on the painting in front of her. But he’s a good guy, right? Right. A real team player, tilting his head, and letting his hair fall into his face, a little shy, a little smile. She glances at him, unimpressed hook of her brow and her eyelashes lifting up over the rims of her glasses. Her name is Andy, he knows, though they haven’t spoken, at least not directly. She’s been known to correct him in class however, her hand raising after his, quick and cutting. He maybe, kinda, sorta likes that.

“I think we’re supposed to, you know, discuss what we’re looking at with each other for the VHS thing.”

“VTS.”

“What?”

“It’s called VTS. Visual thinking strategies. Are you sure you want to discuss this painting with me?”

“I’m game if you are.” She smiles, and he’s already thinking about which of her palms he’d like to write his number on. But when he finally looks at the painting, he finds himself to be a lot less concerned with his phone number.

“So, Steve, what’s the first thing you notice about this painting?”

“Um, well, I–”

“Is it too much for you?” Heat is prickling in a bloom up his neck, her smile sharp as her eyes flit between him and the painting, the painting that he really should have looked at before approaching her.

“No, no, it’s not too much. It’s– appreciation of the female form, right?” He’s not sure where to look any more, a strange kaleidoscope with how quickly his eyes are darting between scraps of the painting and her face. A freckle under her eye, and then swaths of cream and pink brush strokes and then the hitch in her cheek where her smile curves and then, and then.

“Hair.” His voice pitches and cracks somewhere in the word, turning one syllable into two like a hiccup. She laughs a clipped sound.

“Hair?”

“Around her– around her–”

“Around her cunt?” Something hot tightens in his chest, maybe shame, though shame doesn’t feel good like this does. He feels foolish, the quick whip of his head around like he’s worried they’re going to get caught, though for what he isn’t sure. Likewise, he has no clue what’s causing this devastating fluster, this feathering of heat. Whatever it is, it’s making it very hard to look at her, though the way his gaze has fixed on the painting doesn’t feel much better either. He’s never heard a woman use that word before. Actually, scratch that, he’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone use that word before, not in Hawkins, at least, not corn fed and halfway bible bred, at least. It sets something slick shimmering inside of him, something warm that’s making it hard to think.

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not, I’m just appreciating the work.”

“L’origine du monde.”

“What was that?”

“That’s the name of the painting. Origin of the world.”

“Well, that, uh, I guess that tracks.”

“It’s a shame, don’t you think?” When he does finally look at her again, she’s smiling, all ease, all cool, and him anything but, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm into his hip.

“What’s a shame?” She sighs, a long sound, letting her neck roll to the side so her cheek scrunches into the plush of her scarf, a wistful look.

“The current trends. Looking like prepubescent girls. No hips, bald vaginas, everything so… sterile.” She speaks with a bluntness that winds him, if he’s being honest, her expression schooled, and maybe a little disillusioned, brow pinched and mouth pulling down in a grimace.

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Yeah, well, you have a cock. Makes things a little simpler, doesn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ, do you always talk like this?” He says it just a little too loud, a little too breathless, heads turning in the gallery around them, and he thinks he might regret even trying with this girl. Should’ve stuck with the tried and true, that blonde girl that wears sticky sweet lip gloss and smiles at him from across the room during lectures. But this girl, with her arched brow and her twitching smile and the dark flicker of nail polish when she smooths the throat of her scarf. This girl has his number, and not in the way he’d like her to.

“What do you prefer, Steve? Do you like a girl with a smooth shave?”

“Well I think that, um, a woman’s body is her own choice.” And it has to be the dumbest string of words he’s ever said, breathed out on two static exhales, a garbled parroting of what he’s learned in these classes, right? Well, sort of.

“How progressive of you.”

“But the painting is really, you know, it’s, um, it feels warm?” Not sure where that came from, another fresh flood of heat rising and buoying up into his cheeks. Though her expression seems to soften, her smirk falling into something lighter. Maybe, maybe, he got one right.

“Yeah, I think I get what you mean. There’s a softness to it that’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Mmhmm.”

“But also a strength, a frankness to it.”

“Yes, yeah.” That sick swirl of shame but not shame is receding, and only leaving a nice sort of haze in its place, his head lolling a little, eyes raking over the painting, the catch of light, the soft rounding of a body at rest, slumped and plush and kind of perfect, he thinks. Although he’s pretty sure Andy would correct him for perfect, perfect not being the point, because perfect is oppressive, right? Right. Fuck perfect, he thinks, this is something better than perfect. And maybe she is too.

“Steve?” Her hand on his arm, purple nail polish and a close-lipped smile snapping him back into his body, hmm? And her smile spreads, and the warmth does too, and she’s saying something about the prof calling them back together and he’s mmhmm-ing on the heels of her brown leather boots. And she sits next to him when they get back on the bus, Robin giving him a stink eye that breezes right over the top of his head as she passes down the aisle because he’s a little busy trying to take discreet inhales through his nose of whatever perfume Andy wears, spice and strong and warm, that same warm.

And it isn’t his number that gets jotted onto her palm, but her address that she scrawls onto the soft inside of his wrist, right over the catch and jump of his pulse, because she has invited him over for a drink tonight to continue our conversation from earlier.

Robin doesn’t even have a chance to snit at him for leaving her stranded to the back of the bus because he’s already shuffling her along by the crooked wing of his elbow, hands tucked down deep in his jacket pockets, snow starting to flit and fall from the gray hang of sky.

“I need your help.”

“You have a date.”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s a date. She was like, rubbing your wrist. That’s a date.”

“I need your help.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Because Andy is not light washed denim and polo shirts and two percent milk. He’s seen her in the campus coffee shop, she takes soy, sometimes almond, for the record. So when they get back to their apartment, the smell of electric heat washing over them and curling in their lungs, they don’t go to Steve’s closet, they go to Robin’s.

Robin’s first pull is a turtleneck. He scoffs.

“What? Turtleneck dudes are definitely that chick’s type. Are you kidding me right now?” And when he assures her that he is, in fact, not kidding her right now, Robin starts to rummage again, eventually coming back out with a t-shirt for a band that Steve only knows because he has asked Robin to turn their music down on several occasions. And before he can say anything Robin is please hold-ing him and shouting down the hall for Eddie.

“What?”

“Steve has a date with a cool girl.”

“Cool girl, what cool girl?”

“Soc major, with the boots.”A little flurry of activity, socked feet slipping down the hall and Eddie hanging off the doorframe of his room, Steve not able to get a word in edgewise between their rapid fire volley.

“No, really? Little different for you, man, isn’t it?”

“I–”

“We need your closet, excuse us.” Robin on the warpath and Eddie grinning big, and Steve somewhere in the middle.

“How’d this happen?”

“She–”

“They were talking about art.” Robin reappearing with a long-sleeved thermal gripped in her other hand, eyebrows waggling.

“Steven? Our Steven? Talking about art? Well, well, well.” If he just had time he’d say something back to Eddie about how he got kicked out of the art museum last weekend for making quacking noises every time the security guard took a step, but Robin is already ushering him back down the hall, into his room this time, shoving the bundle of clothes into his chest and slamming the door shut on her way out.

Eddie is anemic and tends to eat breakfast when the sun is going down, and Robin is Robin, so it’s a tight fit getting the thermal on, followed by the t-shirt. But looking in the mirror, he thinks he likes it, gives an experimental and not at all vain flex of his arms that makes the sleeves of the tshirt roll back up toward the round of his shoulders and yeah, he likes that. And when he steps out of his room, Robin and Eddie already hovering and humming their approval, that warmth starts to build and bloom all over again.

And the rest is a little hazy from there. Robin offers him two refrigerator-chilled potstickers from last night’s dinner, something about fuel for your evening, Stevening, while Eddie pours himself a bowl of corn pops and prattles about something he learned in his music theory class, dissonance and skipped beats, and Steve can understand the feeling. And then they’re both kicking him out with an all too solemn godspeed, soldier. Eddie even salutes him.

Andy lives on the opposite side of campus in a cropping of apartments in a building that looks kind of like a castle, old brownstone and wrought iron. She buzzes him up, opens the door in a thin turtleneck and jeans, her head tilting and her lip pouting, just a little.

“Where’d the polo shirt go?”

“I changed.” Excellent, he thinks, how astute of him. She smiles.

“I can see. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Bikini Kill fan though.” He’s trying to focus on her as she leads him deeper into her apartment, though his eyes still wander. Old wood flooring that’s barely visible underneath the thick swaths of patterned rugs. A crushed velvet, lime green sofa sitting in front of a fireplace that’s packed full with books. The kitchen is tucked into a corner, a little patch of black and white linoleum, old appliances. She’s pouring wine at the counter with her foot pressed into her other calf in a sort of shortened tree pose, and she’s asking him if he likes red, and he nods, all the while thinking to himself that he hasn’t consumed enough wine that doesn’t come in boxes to really care what color it is.

They sit down on the lime green sofa, her arm draped over the back of it, fingers tipped toward him. And he’s trying not to be such a dweeb about it, really, he’s not, but it only takes a few bashful glances to know that she very much is not wearing a bra. And he likes that, likes that a lot. Likes the soft curve and fold of her stomach with the way she’s turned toward him, the stretch of her jeans at her hips, her thighs, and his mouth goes dry around a gulp of wine when he starts to think about that painting again, and he starts to think about her, and he starts to think about her and the painting together. He starts to wonder, to wonder, to wonder what similarities he might find between the two.

There’s conversation, quiet and meandering and murmuring, their mouths staining dark and rosy from the wine, bodies turning warm and pliant and inching closer, closer, closer. And it all starts to melt, empty glasses set aside and her hand slipping into the back of his hair and she’s going to be the one in control, isn’t she? Fine by him, lax and languid in her hands, letting her tilt his face toward her. The first kiss is surprisingly sweet, just a peck to the corner of his mouth that makes him breathe hard through his nose in a petty huff of anticipation. She grins, lets the next one take its time, a little deeper, a little more heat, open mouth against open mouth, and he groans when her tongue slips behind his teeth.

This would be enough, he thinks. This time, at least. Her settling into his lap, little pants of breath between the wet snap of lips and spit and tongues. His hands squeeze at her thighs, coaxing a skittering sound from her throat when he reaches back and cups her ass, fingers splayed and pressing petulant. He’s going to feel her fingers in his scalp for a few days, the little hurts, little pulls. The next time she pulls away she presses her hand into his chest to keep him at bay, even as he tilts his chin up, feeling young in his eagerness as she smiles wide-eyed at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Both of them whispering, and when they both realize they don’t know why they’re whispering, both of them giggling, getting away with something when she pulls him up off the couch and into her bedroom.

“Why is this shirt so tight?” She huffs it out with the tshirt halfway rucked up his torso, his hair falling in his face as he curls over trying to help her get it off, both of them breathing out a laugh when the fabric finally is up and over and off of him.

“Oh baby, your hair.” He likes baby, baby feels good, feels like another warm bloom in his chest, his smile turning sheepish when she reaches both hands into his hair, shaking it out at the roots before smoothing it back for him. He chases after her hand, manages to press a kiss to her palm before she’s reaching for the hem of his, Eddie’s, thermal. It comes off easier, quieter, her eyes softening as she takes in his bare chest, catching him off guard when she ducks her head down to press a kiss to the dip that connects the lines of his collar bone, there and gone, little sweetness, little warmth as she steps back and grins.

“Do you wanna lay down for me?” Not even a thought, just ligament and muscle moving, some sort of game dancing between their eyes as he settles back on his elbows against the dark fabric of her duvet. He watches the fine flicker of her fingers make deft work of the buttons of her jeans. An absent-minded thing, the heel of his palm pressed to the ache, to the heat. He’s already hard, already smearing warm against the front of his boxers watching her step out of her jeans.

“Oh fuck, honey.” A little pained, the sweet prickle of agony, of being right. A vision somewhere between obscenity and divinity, he thinks, though that would be playing into the madonna-whore complex their professor was lecturing about last week. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care about much of anything except continuing to look at Andy, the soft divot at her waist where her white cotton thong settles against the soft curve of skin, and the dark bloom of curls along the sides of the material where her thighs touch. He was right, and now he’s doomed.

She smiles, finger hooking in the hem of her shirt and pulling it up just a little, exposing the sweet dip and swell of her stomach, and suddenly he’s not so interested in just laying back any more. Greedy, he feels the slick, desperate curl of it in his gut. Greedy when he shuffles up onto his knees and crawls to the end of the bed. Greedy when his hands curl at the fat of her hips and he pulls her in closer so he can press the open heat of his mouth just above her navel, soft and warm and he wants more of it, of her. She sighs, a long, languid sound that he wants to hear more of, dipping his head down to mouth at the jut of her hip, dampening the fabric slung taut there.

Limbs tangled with limbs, some of it graceless, awkward, some of it perfect motion. She lays out like a painting, like the painting, for him, her turtleneck curled up around her sternum so he can palm a handful of her breast, settling down between her thighs and wasting no time in dragging his tongue through her cunt.

She wasn’t wrong about the trends. Hairless bodies, smooth bodies, flinchingly pristine bodies. And that’s fine, he thinks, been with plenty of bodies like that, made his body like that for a while too. But he likes this, likes her, the sense and sate of it, the scent of it, even if it makes him a pervert, lapping at her while he curls two fingers inside her. And somewhere in the simpering sear of it, his hips have started to jerk and stutter into the mattress beneath him, picking up a stilted speed when she starts to moan, clipped sounds and his name and he wants it and he wants it and he wants it so bad. She comes with a long sigh that cracks high into a whine, her thighs tensing and slackening around his face. And he feels a warmth of his own, relief of his own, though the reality of what he did turns him sheepish, pressing a bashful smile into the swell of her inner thigh.

“Did you?” Her words crackle breathless with her grin, peering down at him from behind her forearm and he can barely look at her, turning his face back into her skin, letting his teeth graze there a little mean.

“Maybe, shut up.” Her laugh bursts and bubbles up, her head tossed back, eyes crinkled shut as he crawls up and up and up, not evening minding the uncomfortable cooling in his jeans when he presses a sloppy kiss to her mouth, turning her laugh into a satisfied hum.

“Hmm, kinda feminist of you coming in your jeans just from eating me out.” Speechless, and he kind of likes it, huffing out a breathless laugh as he watches the cartoonish jump of her eyebrows. He presses a kiss between them, sweet and simple, warm all over when he pulls back to find her smiling at him.

“I like you, a lot.” That whispering thing again, a little shy, a little young, and a little uncertain. But there’s no need for it, not when she tilts her chin up and presses a kiss to his cheek, the round of it, the warmth of it.

“I like you too, Steve.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington ficlet #steve harrington au

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just-some-guy-joust · 1 year

Note

Tell us about Eden *holds up microphone to you*

Thank you all for indulging me I am going to yell about her so fucking hard <3 Same as my Amedeo rant, this one's LONG babey YIPPEE! This ended up being 34 fucking paragraphs!!!!

All art is by me, all links on character names lead to their toyhouse profiles

Content warnings: Unreality, toxic relationships, bad mental health

This is Eden! She/her, 20-22 years old (22 at time of Doomed By The Narrative), 5'1, a college student who's also in the college's gaming club! She's the best friend/sister of Aiden, another member of the club who's like super rich and inherited a fuckoff big manor from their parents (which I am mentioning exclusively for the context to explain the fact that the story is called In A Manor Of Speaking)

Eden is very very sweet and kind and energetic and fun. She's good vibes all around and she's friends with Everyone so hard. If you're familiar with my other OC I've shoved into one of my tournaments though, Amedeo, you... might know where this is going a little bit.

For a basic plot summary up until Eden has anything to do with anything, Aiden comes home one day with a demon, Viorel, who is VERY lost and confused and has no memory of how he got to the human world. They all pretty quickly discover Viorel is not the only demon coming through to the human world though. Vivian and Engel are hunting him down and don't believe him when he says he has no clue who they are. They send another demon after him to kill him, though it doesn't work well since he just befriends it and now it is also living in the manor having a good time. Afterwards, Amedeo, a member of the gamer club, starts acting... odd. He invites Aiden to hang out, and then they get kidnapped, Viorel having to go save them. It was only the first incident of many with Amedeo, and he slowly got worse, making everyone really uncomfortable and staying away from him.

Eden didn't want to sit by and watch this happen to her friend, so she tried asking it what was going on. It responded by attacking her, sending her on a trip to the hospital.

It was fine. It was ok. That was her fault, really. She should've known.

Amedeo was kicked out of the gamer club (she hadn't wanted that but she wasn't there to vote on it). Apparently he never went back to his apartment. Some time after his disappearance, Aiden died. She wasn't there when it happened. Viorel said it was Amedeo.

It was... it was fine. It was ok. It was awful. It hurt so much. Awful things kept happening to the people around her and she couldn't do anything about it. Her sibling was dead, it was getting so hard to breathe anymore.

It was fine. It was ok. Aiden... "survived" in a way. They came back as a ghost days later. Stuck in a computer, yeah, but they could still talk. They were still here. It wasn't fair of Eden to stay upset for long, not when Aiden was having the WORST time coping with their new form. So she puts on a smile and acts just like she did before. Everything's going to be alright. Even if she has to be the only one acting like it is.

More time passes. One day, she stares at the back window and finds... Amedeo. He's a mess. He looks like he's been hit with a truck, or like he's been sleeping under a bush the last several days. Frantically, Eden runs outside, chasing him down when he tries to run from her, and pulling him in for a hug. It was alright. It was going to be ok, she promised. How long has it been since you've eaten, do you need water, you can take a nap in one of the fancy beds, I promise I won't let Viorel hurt you I know you're worried, I missed you, I was worried about you, please come inside.

As time passed, things became comfortable again. Amedeo had really changed for the better and was trying so hard to make things right. Viorel built Aiden a new robotic body for them to haunt, and they were getting used to it well. The gamer club was getting back together. Eden, Viorel, and Aiden took a trip to the monster realm to learn more about Viorel's past after his sister showed up looking for him. Eden didn't... really understand what happened. Viorel was pretty upset, but she didn't know why. Just as always, she felt like she was missing something everyone else understood. This wasn't her story, after all. She was just there to smile and remind everyone it was going to be ok. She was a bright spot for them. She knew that. They returned to the human world, some new friends in tow, and things were back on track for a while.

It was fine. It was ok.

In the almost 2 years since all of this began, Reverie was the first person to ever ask her that.

Eden and Reverie begin hanging out a lot after that. Not just for the shoulder to cry on, they really do enjoy each others company. They got close, closer than Eden had ever felt with anyone. It felt... odd. She was having a really hard time naming her feelings for them. She cared about them but something was off. It was really hard to know what was nagging the back of her head. They kept bringing up weird existential ideas, never enough for a full conversation, but they really did have strange ideas about how the world functioned. She kind of liked it though. It was fun to consider the possibility. That maybe none of it was real. What a relief that could be...

"Hey. I want to show you something" Reverie told her one day. They guided her to a private room, making doubly sure no one was around. Confidently, they held out their hand. Above it, floating and glowing softly, was... a menu.

Save, load, quit, settings. A video game menu. Above their head, "player 2".

None of it was real.

Reverie is player 2 of the video game known as "In A Manor Of Speaking". They've played this game hundreds of times. Player 1... Viorel, had left them a long time ago, and has no memory of the nature of the world. So Reverie alone had been restarting the game over and over, trying to find a path that would let them finally beat the final boss and escape the game. If they could just win, they'd finally be able to leave and reenter the real world. 100% maxing out Eden's friendship level was one thing they still hadn't done, until now. They had a good feeling about this one. They were sure of it.

An NPC. That's all she was.

It made sense. She'd always felt that way. She wasn't even important to the plot. She knew it. Of course it'd take them this long to try maxing out her friendship, she was always just a background character. None of it was real. None of it mattered. She was doing such a good job of playing her role, wasn't she? A perfect side piece in a story that isn't hers.

She went along with it. Her odd feelings about Reverie made sense now, that wasn't fully her... she was programmed to feel that way. But she still cared about them. She still wanted to help. Shoving down all the thoughts, it felt so. Easy. To dedicate herself to their goal. She loved them, she cared about them, she hated them, she looked up to them. Something about them was magnetizing and she didn't want to leave. Of course. Of course she'd help. She knew now, that's what she was supposed to do. What a relief. None of it had ever mattered. It was a kind thought to her.

Now she was able to see the save points, the HP bars above peoples heads, sometimes she caught glimpses of dialogue boxes as Reverie spoke to people. They introduced her to someone very special that only the two of them could seem to see. Elysium. She was an AI made for the game to keep it running properly, and to rewrite bits of code, to expand the world they lived in. The game was always evolving because of her. Elysium acted rather cold and grumpy a lot of the time, but there was an undeniable warmth to her that Eden admired.

Knowing about the game was terrifying, but the time she spent with Elysium and Reverie... It was wonderful. She finally felt like she was somewhere she belonged. She never felt so special than when she was with them. It was fun, to be part of the game. It was the happiest she felt in a long time.

...Right?

She still didn't smile much anymore. Reverie dismissed her various concerns often, saying it was fine, she was an NPC, she wouldn't get it. There was always this look in their eye that gave her chills. Reverie would tell her to fight that monster, it's for the EXP. When she protested, they'd tell her, what's the problem? None of this is real. I'll probably have to reload anyways, so none of this will matter in the end. Reverie would get themself in dangerous situations over and over. When Eden was worried about them, Reverie never understood. If they died, they just come back, it wasn't a big deal.

They never really did look at her, or Elysium. Every movement they made felt scripted. Every word, carefully planned. None of it mattered, to them. If Eden was uncomfortable, what did it matter? She wasn't real. She wasn't real. She knew she wasn't real.

But it was fine. It was ok.

Months passed in a blur. Eden hadn't spent much time with her other friends the entire time. She wasn't even sure what they were up to. It didn't matter. They wouldn't have changed their actions if she tried. That was never her choice. But it didn't matter. It was time. Just her and Reverie, and the final boss.

As Reverie rambled about the plan, Eden silently stared down at her palms, as always. She was so... afraid. Worried. She wished she could just give herself some reassurance. ...And the game's menu silently popped up in her hands. It held Reverie's save. ...It wouldn't hurt, she thought. She pressed the save button. It gave her a little comfort.

It was so hard to focus she hardly noticed they were in the battle with Engel now. When had they...? It didn't matter. Reverie was shouting at her, and she snapped back into reality and joined the battle, sword in hand. Engel's blank eyes stared right past her, entirely focused on Reverie. Eden, took a step, and found herself behind them. Time seemed to slow. She didn't remember getting this close to them so quickly. But it was her chance. It was her time. She raised the sword, and brought it down.

Engel's head rolled to the floor, their body collapsing next to it. Reverie and Eden froze. Neither of them dared to breathe. Eden couldn't see anything but the blood on her sword. She nearly dropped it with how heavy it suddenly felt. But quickly Reverie's arms were around her. They picked her up, yelling in excitement, looking more happy than she had ever seen them. They smiled at her so genuinely, and everything melted away. That was all she wanted. She laughed too, the image of Engel's headless corpse disappearing from her mind, losing herself in the relief. It was all over.

The area around them faded to black and white, "THE END" appearing a few feet in front of Reverie. They dropped Eden, and ran towards it, reaching for the "quit" button. And then it was gone. The quit button disappeared right before they could hit it. Leaving only "Restart" and "Reload" beside where it had been.

Eden couldn't see Reverie's face from where she was, but she could feel the chill radiating from them. They were frozen place, the room silent. Then they laughed, something hollow and empty. Then louder, crazed and desperate. They collapsed to the floor, their laughs and sobs intermingling so well Eden couldn't tell the difference between them. She tried to reach out to them, but before she could reach them, she heard them speak.

"If I can't leave, then this world might as well rot."

A folder icon flashed above their now outstretched palm and they reached into it, crushing the code within. Eden immediately felt dizzy. The world began to crumble around them, glitching out in bright colors, awful noises emanating from the edges where nothing but void lay beyond. Eden could see flashes of other places, other people. The world was collapsing in on itself as Reverie laughed. It was so hard to think. It was so hard to be. Eden reached for her sword. It didn't want to stay in her grasp, but her resolve solidifying, she forced it in her hand.

Reverie turned toward her just in time for the blade to pierce their chest. They stopped, in shock, for a struggling heartbeat.

They laughed. They grabbed Eden's hands and pulled, plunging the sword farther through their back, and putting Eden's face closer to theirs. "Do you think this matters?" they taunted through wheezing breaths. "I'll just come back! I always have. I always will! This means NOTHING Eden!"

They stood there for what felt like eternity. Eden didn't know what to say and could barely even see them through the tears in her eyes. But slowly, slowly, Reverie's laugh trailed off. And their face betrayed a sudden hint of fear.

Nothing happened.

Nothing happened as their breath hitched again and their legs gave out, dropping them to the floor. Nothing happened as they coughed up blood weakly. Nothing happened. Their HP had already dropped to 0. It never took this long. Nothing happened. Frantically they opened the menu.

It was Eden's save. No, it was Reverie's. No... the names switched back and forth, never settling in place for long. "WHat did yoU DO?" they tried their best to shift their position despite the unbearable pain, looking for Eden. They spotted her in front of the "THE END" screen, processing what she was doing moments too late. She reloaded, and everything went black.

Through a painful haze of noise and color, Eden could hear Elysium's voice. "Do you see what you've done, Reverie?" "pl...ease..." "How the hell am I supposed to fix this?! Look around you Reverie! Look what you've DONE!" "ple.....please...pl... please" "I can only think of one way to fix this. I'm going to delete you. I hope you had fun in the time you were here."

"NO!" Eden screamed out. She didn't want this. But it was all she could do as she finally slipped into what could only be compared to unconsciousness.

She awoke who knows when on a couch in Elysium's room. After making sure she was ok, Elysium explained. She explained everything. Eden trying to reload a save she made when she wasn't even a player freaked out the game so bad, on top of the code Reverie had destroyed... it was a mess. Elysium had stabilized it. Reverie was... well, not really alive, but not really dead either. They were stuck somewhere in between, in the moment they would have died if they hadn't been a player who's supposed to reload if their save wasn't corrupted. But Elysium could fix it, she was sure she could.

Eden asked if this was how this was supposed to go. Elysium sighed, and said yes.

Eden's route in the game wasn't always like this. But Reverie had become so fixated on finding their exit and treating the world around them like nothing but a toy. Elysium hadn't known what else to do. So she rewrote the code, the story, she rearranged the narrative, so Eden would be learn about the game. So she would start to glitch out the system. So she could be invisible to Engel's eyes because she was glitching out so badly, so she could finally be the one to end the game. So Reverie would finally see there was nothing else. This world was all their was.

It was never about Eden.

None of it had ever had anything to do with her.

The narrative had been rewritten just for her. The months of pain. The horrible state Eden had found herself in, agreeing to Reverie's views of the world. That she was worthless. That she was nothing. That this world was a prison. All the sweet moments, all the comfort Eden had felt in those fleeting scenes. It was all for her. None of it was for her. It was always about Reverie. She was one more piece in this awful play.

Eden bid Elysium farewell, and went home.

#asks #doomed by the narrative showdown

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thebumblecee · 11 months

Text

Ten Line Game

rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. then tag ten people.

I was tagged by the lovely @detective-giggles

When I’m like this you’re the one I want (TK/Carlos) -

It’s most likely for the best. Carlos nods. He looks down at the mug between his hands, there’s a few stray tea leaves floating on the top because TK never double strains. He’s always been too impatient. They make Carlos’ chest feel hollow.

Something so wholesome (TK/Carlos) -

TK is definitely smirking as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it looks obscene. “Good?” He asks, there’s something underneath the cockiness that’s not as sure as the rest of him. Like he’s trying to figure out if Carlos wants to stop for a breather or for good.

“Very good.” Carlos pants. “So good, if you keep it up I’m going to finish too quickly.” TK doesn’t look concerned about that at all, in fact he’s beaming.

Wishing to be the friction in your jeans (TK/Carlos/Billy) -

They might be about to fuck for his husband’s pleasure but TK is not a complete slut and he won’t let a man fuck him without a little intimacy first. “Kiss me.” He demands, he can almost picture Carlos waiting to hear them on the radio eagerly. “I want to taste you.”

Didn’t know I was starving till I tasted you (TK/Carlos + a little bit of everyone) -

Carlos can see the second he pieces together the way he looks under his terrible disguise. “What the fuck happened to you? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

“A truck actually.”

Gonna please you every way I can (TK/Carlos) -

He’s taking his time putting it on just to watch Carlos squirm. “Under your uniform at work you can have your pretty little cock caged away in a chastity belt. Just for me.”

“Always for you.” Carlos pants. They’ve never taken this kind of play outside the house before but TK knows the thought of subbing in his patrol uniform drives his husband wild. To be in a position of power on the outside while being wholly at TK’s mercy under his clothes.

Pace yourself for me (TK/Carlos) -

They’re at Carlos’ sleek townhouse before TK knows it. He sends a screenshot of his coordinates on google maps to Nancy.

“Just in case you’re a murderer.” He quips at Carlos who doesn’t look offended.

“Smart.” He says, he smiles at TK with a hint of wickedness. “Smarter than following a strange man home to play with his knives.”

Educating Mateo ♥️ (Carlos/TK/Mateo) -

“Are you guys getting a dog?” he asks, head tilted to the side. He holds up a black dog bowl that was stashed at the back of the cupboard. If the bedazzled BITCH wasn’t a clue then TK’s blush should be.

A laugh escapes TK. Mateo is looking at him with a sweet naivety. They really should put that in a better hiding place. “No, um, that’s not for an actual dog.” He feels shy all of a sudden as if he wasn’t a part of the reason Mateo was coming all over himself multiple times 12 hours ago.

Mateo looks at it and frowns, “Then what…” his eyes widen and TK chuckles. “Oh.”

What hurts the most (TK/Carlos) -

“Do you know he went to art college before becoming a cop?” This was a piece of information that TK only just learned himself the other week, and only because Andrea told him. “His mother told me that, not even him.“

“Art college? Wow. He really does contain multitudes.” Even through the quip TK can see Nancy was shocked. She should be shocked, she just found out something about her friend that she should know by now. TK was closed off about his life in New York at first but after he got comfortable with them, he told them everything. Addiction. Exes. College. He wanted them to go into being his friend with their eyes wide open.

How Do You Love (TK/Carlos) -

“Carlos look at me.” His eyes snap to TK’s, he didn’t even realise he was looking at the floor. TK doesn’t look angry, he looks concerned. “Before we go further, I need verbal confirmation, okay? I need to know you’re not too far gone. Can you answer me baby?”

“Yes, sir.”

A heart that beats in time with yours (TK/Carlos) -

“Sex is romantic.” TK argues, if his captain knew this was the plan they probably wouldn’t have let TK sneak off. “You’re the one that brought me to a hotel in the middle of a shift.” It’s not his fault he took the hint and ran with it.

“Yeah, for lunch.” Carlos reminds him. He pushes the door open and TK gasps.

—

I tried to keep it to just Tarlos but you know me, I’m not great at that.

No pressure tags: @mooshkat @cowlos-reyes @chaotictarlos @heartstringsduet @wandering-night19 @paperstorm that’s all the people I know that won’t mind me tagging them, if you want to play though tag me so I can see ♥️ I love seeing people play these games.

#cee speaks #writing #911 lonestar #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lonestar fic #911 ls #911 ls fic #fanfic

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thedeafprophet · 2 years

Text

Prophet's Opinion On F.F. Gebrandt's Prelapsarian Exhibition

Prefacing this of course that this is all ~just my opnion~, some may hate what i liked and loved what i didnt. But i thought it’d be fun to type up a review.

What I liked

As always I love the world quality events, there’s always something so fun about every body working together towards one goal! This shown strongly in the clues section, seeing everyone work together to solve them all in the first 4 hours and having a doc put together for people who arent keen on puzzles was fantastic :]

I really like the items from the event, i think the affiliations are great especially for my midgame characters. Always good to have more endgame stat items. And im super curious about the neathbow option hehe gotta get my boxes together.

I also loved the art for the event. The overall promotional art was so well done and I loved the area art of the museum so much. And i was so very very happy to see the full art of the neathbow. Illegal pride flag my beloved.

It was cool to see F F Gerdbrandt featre more heavily in a story. I always really thought she was a neat character so its really cool to see her feature more.

I also loved the.. i think it was 4th?... stage where we were getting the items to solve the problem, i liked how it was split between big endgame things, but also still provided an oppurtunity for newer players to contribute.

Mechanics wise in general I thought it was pretty good. Pacing is always hard with these kinda of things, but it worked out pretty well to me.

(also the 1:1 pennys reward was pretty sweet ngl. love that sweet sweet cash money)

What I didn't like

I'll be honest, I found the overall plot lackluster. I get more annoyed when I think a plot had potential and blew it, and that was the case here. The build up with the museum and the machine and time was interesting - and then meh

(this got long, putting the rest under a cut)

I didnt feel the stakes at all. I get not every event should be city ending based, but you’re going to break a law as big as time and just. That. idk. I didnt really feel like the statues were a threat. I’m also just not that big on second city lore which probably doesnt help matters.

Character choices were not present or just weak in general. There was pretty much no callback to player choice beyond maybe BaL for a couple clues, and one specific ending of one specific ES, which is rated overaull as a not highly ranked one so its weird it keeps being featured. And i wont lie, I was pretty annoyed that doing the second city war could only get a clue if you did that specific ES. like come, seriously? If that war was supposed to be foreshadowing then this just kinda feels almost rude.

There was just... no further wrap up on the plot with time either. Like didnt more stuff happen then just the statues? Maybe more will happen later idk. Its just after the disapointment that was new years I wanted more.

All of this put together made me care very little about the plot. If this Event was an ES i’d put it on a lower ranking, as ES are often a mixed bag, but idk i kinda expected more from the new big event. I know it was always supposed to be smaller the GCO, but eh. I think a better story could have been worked out.

I think the Empress' part was weak at best. I don't care at all about her unless it's bringing her to justice for the terrible and selfish things she's done. I dont care about Victoria and Albert at, like sorry your cousin died or whatever,

And also like,,,, okay I have no qualms with historical fiction lmao but the RPF of such a prominent real person is always weird to me so I'm always put off when text heavily features of the Empress. That was a real person, who did real, horrible things. Makes it less fun when she does more bad stuff in game, compared to other villains in the game who are purley fictional.

And the whole thing gets kinda weird all together when you think of the long history from the victorian era to now of british museums and the items they take and...yea. oof. leaves a weird feeling with me I wont lie.

Anyway this is long enough already lol, ill stop here.

As far as Im aware the past two events have been experiments so I hope this one ran sucessfully for collecting data on stuff for the game. Excited to see what comes in the future, and despite my qualms I am still beyond thrilled over the new content we got.

#tldr: 'that happened I guess'#sorry for rambling so much guys I just have a lot of opinions #fallen london #fl event #fl spoilers #sorry if there's typos im not proof reading this lmaooo #long post #fl crit

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grelitia-fam · 2 years

Text

How the Wayne’s reacted to meeting Cassandra’s girlfriend (Me) and also the gifts I brought them-

Bruce Wayne-

He was pretty nice. He told me that as long as I treated Cassandra right and made her happy, we would have no problems. He even asked Cass my allergies so he could plan the meals accordingly. It was hard to get a gift for a BILLIONAIRE, but he seemed to like the fruit basket-

Dick Grayson-

He was very excited. Apparently, I’ve been the first person to ever beat him at Star Wars trivia. He said he wanted to meet me in a week for a rematch. He really like the playing cards and chess set I got him.

Jason Todd-

Pretty chill. Asked we what I read and if I wrote. We had a long discussion about grammar and the best writing tactics. He offered to teach me Spanish. He appreciated the pack of rare novels I got him, and even offered to pay me for them. I said no but I still found 300$ in my Paypall.

Tim Drake-

He shared his coffee maker with me, so that’s a win. He asked me the stereotypical questions, how we met, how long we’ve been together, etc. He also said he’d been willing to help me if I’m struggling in anything. He said he’d out the coffee mixtures I got him to use, as well as the new laptop.

Stephanie Brown-

She gave me a semi-tour of the mansion, told me if I ever wanted to move in there was always room. She also admitted that she was the one who ordered that giant load from my shop just so I could have extra spending money, which made me glad I choose to see her some purple dresses.

Damian Wayne-

I knew he would be tough to please, so I brought a basket with all the kittens in it to hopefully a good impression. He didn’t say much to my face, just leaning down to pet them, but Cass told me I had his approval. I decided to take the risk and get him a peacock… I almost thought I saw a smile.

Duke Thomas-

Listen, this dude is a sweetheart. He ate the majority of the baked goods I gave him, and quietly asked if he could have more the next time I visited. He’s about Christie’s age I think, so I offered to tutor him in literature.

Harper and Cullen row-

I put these two together because they never left each other’s side. Harper was pretty open about it, while Cullen took a little convincing. They both liked the art supplies I gave them, and Harper asked if I wanted to meet again to draw with them.

Helena Wayne/Bertinellie-

Are they twins or something? No clue. I got them both gift cards because of last minute shopping- they still seem to like and respect me.

Luke Fox-

Also a sweetheart. Challenged me to a few rounds of basketball while asking me questions. I lost most of them, but it was good game. When I gave him a ball pump, he pat me in the back and thanked me.

Barbara Gordon-

Lovely woman. Said she’s ‘grateful that Cass is dating an empath’. How did that woman know?! Anyways, she loved the headphones and wheelchair bag, so that’s great.

Carrie Kelly-

Really energetic kid. Cass told me she wanted to get into sewing, so I bought her a beginners kit and taught her the basics. Safe to say, I might be her favorite non-sibling.

And of course..

Alfred Pennyworth-

Sweet old man. If anyones hurts him I will personally kill them. No one deserves him. I brought him some herbs I grew and he seemed to appreciate them. He called me “Young Master” as first. When I told him I wasn’t comfortable with that, he didn’t even blink before calling me “Young Lass” instead. Sweet old man.

Safe to say, I’m pretty much welcome back anytime. Apparently, there’s still some family I haven’t met that just couldn’t make it, but I’ll see them at what Mr. Wayne called “Introduction part 2”. I’m glad it all worked out fine.

#only in gotham #onlyingotham #dc roleplay #dc rp #dc rp open #only in gotham rp #gothamite #gotham city #gotham

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dreamerinsilico · 1 year

Note

for the end of year writing asks: F P O

What stories are you planning for the future?

*vibrates excitedly*

I've got two Sandman fics that are almost done, both Dream/Hob - a slightly silly, very nerdy, very porny kinkmeme fill and a self-indulgent hurt/comfort thing.

I signed up as a prospective author for a Hannibal 'zine recently, and if accepted, I've got a couple of ideas for that. The one that has the most traction, currently, is about Hannibal trying to exorcise his attachment to Will by more creative means than eating him. (spoiler: it doesn’t work)

Other than that in Hannibal-land, I've got a post-canon longfic that's been sitting for two years that I direly want to get back to and finish, and if and only if I manage that, I've got a Hannibal-Wayward Children series crossover idea I've been percolating for over a year.

(Honestly... I probably ought to just go ahead and publish the little vignette I wrote as kind of a companion piece to the bigger idea. :P It's short, sweet, finished, and actually good. In case anyone following my tumblr actually knows both canons and cares, it's Hannibal's first therapy session with Jack Wolcott.)

What are your pet peeves in other people’s work?

I have several grammatical error pet peeves (lie/lay errors being the foremost, and unfortunately by-far most common, of those), but those just kind of make me sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, at most. English isn't everyone's first language, and even if it is, the current state of public education in at least my anglophone country leaves much to be desired. Certainly won't ruin a fic for me.

I think the biggest pet peeve otherwise, aside from various "I vehemently disagree with this characterization" sort of things (which I think we all run into at some point), is when a story goes into a lot of depth... or "depth".... about a subject that the author clearly has no clue about, either from practical experience or research. Fics that go into detail about cooking when it's clear the entirety of the author's knowledge of the subject comes from having watched one or two Gordon Ramsay shows. Fics prominently involving characters being college professors where the author knows absolutely nothing about academia from any perspective other than maybe having been a university student at some point. That kind of thing. I'm never going to tell anyone to only write what they know, but like. Either do the research, or handwave it. Don't go into detail and then get every single detail wrong.

Do you believe in outlines? Show us one!

I do believe in outlines, for anything more complex than one or two scenes! First relatively concise one I found that isn't for something I haven't finished yet below the cut (because it's still kinda long) -

This is pretty condensed, because I wrote it both for myself and to share with @stylishanachronism because we were doing a collaboration for a Pillars of Eternity minibang event. It's for I Recall (stylishanachronism's art embedded <3).

The nutshell version of what this fic is exploring is: In the present-day, in terms of the game's timeline, the protagonist is face-to-face with the trapped soul of her lover from a previous life thousands of years ago. 99% of the fic is about that past life, and how the protagonist unwittingly betrayed the love of her life.

Events timeline

Iovara leaves the missionaries; Nephele is torn, but declines to go with her

Nephele thinks on Iovara often, sometimes struggles with the desire to leave and join

Thaos sends Nephele off to infiltrate, which she is simultaneously sick and overjoyed over. General intent to fade into the heretics and go dark with Thaos.

Reunited! Yay!

...and then Thaos personally tracks Nephele down. Whoops.

Shit starts hitting the fan, and Nephele ends up suggesting going to Ossionus due to trusting That Asshole way too much

Iovara is captured by the Inquisition and events play out as we see in the game

Actual scene outline

Establish both directly and indirectly an existing relationship between Iovara and Nephele, and a bit about what that relationship is like. Iovara tells Nephele what she has discovered, and that she intends to leave. They part with mutual regret.

Flashbacks to earlier time with Iovara

Flashbacks to background with Thaos

Nephele is sent to infiltrate the heretics. Flashbacks to angst and indecision in the time since Iovara left. Emphasis on mixed but mostly-optimistic feelings Nephele has about this situation.

Nephele is brought to Iovara and baldly confesses she was sent as a spy/infiltrator. Iovara is surprisingly (to everyone except Nephele) okay with this. They get to be happy for a bit. Nephele’s still not completely sure about this whole atheism thing, but it makes a scary amount of sense and she’s glad to be where she is.

Thaos pops up personally and makes a go at convincing her that the movement is Le Fucked, but he still cares about dear Iovara, and the only way to really salvage things is going to be getting Iovara’s people to go to Ossionus.

The trap is sprung, and they realize it too late. Nephele starts going into “holy fuck this is my fault” mode; Iovara verbally slaps her out of it and tells her to live, and to remember.

Epilogue: modern-day Acantha in Sun-In-Shadow, face to face with Iovara’s spirit. “I remember.”

#my fic #on fanfiction #thanks for memeing me!#mass-convergence #... damn i'm all up in my feelings about iovara again

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inbctweens · 2 years

Text

.ೃ࿐ ( jonathan daviss , cismale , he/him ) a little birdy told me victor ‘sosa’ sosa just moved to sunset hills . have you met them yet ? they look somewhere around twenty-four , if i had to guess ! pretty sure i heard them driving down the street playing i can hardly speak by bombay bicycle club , they sounded a little pitchy but they had the spirit ! must be their favorite or something . hey … it looks like they just moved into sunset village . have you heard about what they do for a living ? someone told me they’re a culinary arts major , but who knows if that’s even true . guess we’re just gonna have to wait and see . nervous ? maybe you should be . sunset speaks just posted about them … apparently they're resident id 14 ? between you and me , i think that might spark some things in the community … but what do i know ! you guys might get along just fine .

ayo !! it’s ryan (they/them) once again with my second chara bc i don’t have any impulse control. this is sosa and he’s my soft boi. as per usual, you are welcome to plot with me here or on discord !!

s t a t i s t i c s

full name , nicknames : victor thomas sosa , sosa

age , dob , zodiac : twenty-four , january 2 , capricorn

hometown : toronto, canada

gender , pronouns : cismale , he / him

orientation : bisexual , biromantic

height : 6′0″

relationship status : single

occupation : culinary arts major

positive traits : laid-back , gentle , soft , kind-hearted , careful .

negative traits : pushover , worried , paranoid , emotional , naive .

language(s) spoken : english - fluent

similar characters : peeta mellark ( hunger games ) , winston bishop ( new girl ) , harvey kinkle ( chilling adventures of sabrina ) , pam beesly ( the office ) , terry jaffords ( brooklyn nine-nine ) , horatio ( hamlet ) , will turner ( pirates of the carribean )

aesthetics : carrying on despite everything, crisp white button ups, pushing glasses up the bridge of your nose, the sound of wind brushing against trees, how croissants smell fresh out of the oven, trying desperately to not be your father’s son, freshly shaved undercuts, nervous laughter, being the odd one out.

TLDR: victor sosa, the product of an affair he knows little to nothing about has remained sweet despite it all. not good about talking about his feelings, he prefers baking instead. works at a bakery part-time to help pay his way through college. just.. the sweetest boy you’ll ever meet.

a b o u t (tw: affair, daddy issues i Guess)

victor sosa senior is a callous and dishonest man who regularly treated his wife poorly and ignores his three kids whenever he can. a big fish in the small pond that is norbury. on one of his important business trips to california, it was supposed to be another night of infidelity when he’d first met ophelia brigham. she was a canadian woman hailing from toronto, traveling solo across the usa. after one romantic rendezvous, days later her oceanic blue eyes were the only thing he could think about. she was entrancing, but he only had her name. online, it was as if ophelia never existed.

victor sosa jr. arrived on his doorstep a year later, bundled up with familiar blue hues peering up at the man. victor sr. had no way of getting in contact with ophelia, nor did he have a clue of how ophelia found him in the first place. victor tried explaining this all away to his wife, bianca, who, despite being tired of being treated as nothing but a second thought to her husband, enjoyed the finer things in life that he provided. but really, the family dynamic was never the same since victor jr.’s arrival, the youngest child standing out both aesthetically and personality wise. ( four carbon copies of bianca while victor jr. was the spitting image of his father and someone else )

being raised by a loveless marriage and alongside kids who think that it’s all your fault can be so harmful to a person’s mental health. genuinely, not a day would go by that his older siblings would berate him for being a bastard son, the reason why dad didn’t love mom anymore. sosa, ( he stubbornly began responding only to his last name at the age of thirteen, desperate to slip from his father’s expectations and overbearing shadow. no one calls him victor except for his father and step-mother, causing many arguments to this day ), was on the outskirts of the household from day one.

the only thing he found solace in was baking. creating his own recipes & being able to actually control something in his life gave him the slightest bit of hope. hell, sometimes he’d even cook with bianca as a way to bond with her. bonding is a loose term— she still ignored him most days, but when she’d find him in the kitchen the cold silence would be more comforting. needless to say, the moment sosa could leave the house, he did.

sosa moved to the states at the age of eighteen alongside some of his close friends. and while it’s not nearly as nice as the large mansion he grew up in, he actually feels like he can be his own person, and is therefore happier than before. currently, he’s a student at sunset hills university, and works part-time at the local bakery, the bread basket.

#BACKYARD BOY. musings #sunsetintro

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jumpinginmuddypuddles · 5 months

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heyyyyy sunny what is upppppp

SO! for the artist wrapped art game i would like the following: 3, 17 and 28/29

ps: i literally love your writing, idk how to describe it but you’re REALLY good at immediately setting the tone and getting me invested in a story, which is just SO COOL

also i couldnt find an artist variant of this but ima fill out a template i found soooooo i might tag you in that :)

✨

i am exhausted and i cannot wait for the weekend, so i am feeling pretty normal rn, how r u

3. what work are you the most proud of?

this one is super hard, because i wouldn't consider myself 'proud' of a lot of my work. im not happy with my writing a lot of the time, so i hardly ever go back and reread my own works and such, sometimes i don't even like looking at comments when they come through lmao, it's definitely something i need to work on. idk if we're only doing 2023 for this question, but if not, an all time pride of mine is brother in the river. something about it makes me really happy, i'm so proud of the interactions and raph's internal monologue. as for 2023, i love deaf words on unwilling ears, it's such a niche book and a tiny fandom but the emotion in that fic is so OUGH

17. your favourite character to write this year?

this is also super tricky as i've written soo many characters lol. i really enjoy characters with lots of depth - i like writing them from outsider perspectives to try and clue in what makes their brain tick. hobie from atsv is like this, as well as yelena from black widow, link, and jason todd!

28. favourite work i wrote this year?

its definitely not one i'd consider myself the most PROUD of, but it's very self indulgent and as a result one i really like double cross, which is the most funny/traumatic thing you'll ever read, depending if you know the beefleaf spoiler. i also really enjoyed writing kindergarten crush, even if i wouldn't consider it particularly good writing, it was sweet and happy and tbh i think the trigun fandom needed that

29. favourite passage i wrote this year?

i've written SO MANY words this year so trying to pick my favourite is so hard. i'm looking at my more recent stuff... from what i've sorted through it might have to be from the memory hurts (but does me no harm):

The fawn rises from himself on unsteady legs, as unsure as a newborn, and blinks at his surroundings. His glistening little nose twitches, but he does not need to breathe anymore. He stares at Qingxuan for a moment, black eyes incomprehensible. He Xuan moves a little towards him, where the animal can see the calamity, and his neck snaps forward at the motion. Most animals are wary of the calamities on an instinctual, base level. The unconscious knowledge that they are wrong to exist the way they do. The fawn doesn’t shrink back or run, though. He just stares. He recognises his kin, in the cold and the unbreathing and the painless.

idk something about it is so ahhh and i think i matched the visuals to the vibes that this fic is loosely based off, which is abstract (psychopomp) by hozier. i think it just captures the overall tone of the fic very well, in a way that i'm super happy with!

thank you so much for your questions, and if you read my responses thank you even more! do let me know if there is an artist wrapped floating about, as i will ask you every single question known to man as i want your art permanently burned into my retinas x

#ao3 author #ao3 stuff #ao3 #answers #ask response #fanfiction #fanfiction author

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maximoff-pan · 3 years

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l’amore de ma vie | fred weasley

Summary: When Fred invites you to Bill and Fleur’s wedding, your feelings for your best friend are stronger than ever before. What happens when you realize just how much you love him?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Fluff...i-is that a warning?? Anyway buckle up for some sickly sweet goodness....

A/n: I know, I’m terrible. It’s been a little while longer than I’d intended but I hope this makes up for it! Feedback is very very much appreciated! I love seeing what all of you think of my writing! Without further rambling from me....enjoy!

Sidenote: This is a total AU. It completely deviates from canon, as Bill and Fleur’s wedding goes smoothly in this version. No violence here haha...only happiness! (I guess what I’m trying to say is, in no way shape or form is this an accurate recollection of the books, this is purely from my imagination...)

• • • • •

“Fucking weddings...” you mutter as you walk through the massive white tent that adorns the front lawn of the Weasley residence. Everything is perfectly displayed, tables meticulously set, with delicate flowers littering the venue.

The romance of it all makes you want to throw yourself into Bill and Fleur’s masterfully crafted, six-tier cake. And watching as Molly rushes in and out swiftly with the brightest smile on her face, it all reminds you of how you should be getting ready right now. But you just can’t stomach that.

It’s not that you’re not happy for Bill....you’re ecstatic and you absolutely adore him. He’s been a role model for you almost your entire life. And it’s not like you’re not an absolute romantic, because you are...but weddings always make things complicated. They manage to dig up feelings that you’d rather not confront.

Feelings for a certain Weasley twin...

That’s why when he (said twin) and George invited you to the wedding, you were reluctant to say yes. It’s hard to pin point exactly when you felt your friendship with Fred (at least on your end), morph into something more, but you’ve managed to keep your feelings for him locked away for the better part of four years. And as far as you’re aware, the only person that’s truly caught on is Hermione...because you’re convinced at this point that she just knows damn well everything.

“Something on your mind?” A voice startles you, bringing your attention back to the bustling world surrounding you.

Turning around slowly, you’re greeted with Bill’s towering figure. You huff out a quick, teasing laugh. “You know, it’s not nice to interrupt a lady’s thoughts.”

“Forgive me,” he chimes with a chuckle of his own.

Bill knows your humour, and he knows you well enough to recognize when you’re using it as a defence mechanism.

“It just looks like you’re about ready to make a run for it,” he continues, “and I wanted to make sure my favourite guest doesn’t ditch me on my wedding day.”

“You know I would never ditch you.”

Bill sends you a look, clearly not impressed by your jokes. You can tell he knows something’s wrong, but you don’t want to be the first one to bring it up.

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a soft smile. “I promise.”

He only nods at you, and he’s not quite sure if he’s convinced, but he’s confident things will work out in the end. “You know, I best be getting ready.” He grins wide. You reciprocate his grin with an additional giggle.

“You best be. Or else Fleur might divorce you on the spot.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame.” Bill shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I’d have the record for the shortest marriage in wizarding history! Mum would have an absolute shit fit.”

You both burst into a fit of laughter, before you’re nudging him out of the tent and towards his home.

There’s a comfortable pause of silence as Bill thinks to himself. He can see it in your eyes exactly what you’re thinking about. Having been around you for years and Fred even longer, and watching the two of you grow up together, he knows what’s troubling you. Bill Weasley is not a stupid man, and he knows love when he sees it. Better yet, he knows the fear of losing that love that runs rampant in your mind. If Bill has learned anything in his years on this earth, it’s that love allows for the greatest of happiness but it also allows for the greatest manifestation of fear. Unrequited love can be more painful than the relief of returned feelings, but Bill Weasley knows you both well enough to know that these feelings you and his brother share, they’re anything but unrequited.

“I should probably be getting ready too.” You break the silence and remind yourself of the upcoming event as you step through the front door of the Burrow.

You both turn to each other, acknowledging your parting of ways. You hear Arthur shouting for his oldest son from above. “I guess that’s my cue.” Bill simply nods in the direction of the staircase, taking a step towards it. You stand still, just watching him for a moment.

He leans his head over his shoulder for a brief second, already a few steps up the winding stairs. “Oh and (Y/n),” he breathes, “my brother may be an oblivious twat, but to give him some credit, I see the way he looks at you, and I’d be blind to say he isn’t in love with you too.”

In love with you too....

And as soon he’s said it, the cheeky bastard’s disappeared up the stairs, leaving you dumbfounded and completely still.

Fucking hell. Your mind wanders, his words at the forefront....so apparently Bill knows and surely if Bill knows, George must too. Are your feelings for Fred that obvious?

• • • • •

You step through the doorway to Fred and George’s room hoping to find a certain twin. You spot him sitting cross legged on his bed, fiddling with a prototype for the shop that you’re sure you’ve seen him working on before. His ginger hair is messily in his face, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He’s the picture of a working artist....pranking materials being his art. You heave a sigh. Like you, he’s nowhere near ready for the wedding that is going to take place in a few hours.

“Do you know?” His head whips up at the sound of your voice. It’s such a vague question, one in which a normal person would question what it itself is in relation to, but George knows exactly what you’re getting at. But maybe he’ll screw with you a little first....

“I know lots of things love. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

A groan passes your lips. Maybe he doesn’t know....but the way his lips are turned upward, the smirk that seems to be growing on his face tells you otherwise. You’re not blind; you know the games George Weasley likes to play.

“Don’t be coy asshole.” You send him a look that says ‘try me.’ “I know you know. My question is, why haven’t you told me that you know?”

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.” He continues testing the waters of your frustration, seeing just how far he can go before you snap.

“Oh fuck me!” You exclaim, hands thrown up in the air. You point at him, eyes narrowing in his direction. “You’re a prick George.”

His grin only widens. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong twin (Y/n). Last time I checked, Freddie’s the one you want to fuck.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And....Bingo. There it is. The exact confirmation you wanted and feared.

You recoil, eyes widening at him. Your voice goes soft, serious. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew?”

His warm eyes meet yours, a calmness to them that is surprisingly reassuring. “I’ve made a living out of not taking things seriously and meddling in other people’s lives (Y/n), but what you and Fred have, I won’t meddle in that.” He pauses for a moment, his voice softening. “It’s not my business to push you two together. You’ll realize it at your own pace.”

“Realize what at your own pace?” Fred leans his body against the doorframe. He’s dressed in a suit, his hair done up nicely, and unlike his twin, he looks entirely put together. The irony almost makes you laugh. You’ve always known George to be the prepared one, ready hours before he needed to be. And Fred a scambler, leaving everything to the last second, to be fashionably late was his life motto.

“Just how stupid the two of you are going to look all dressed up with no dates.” George answers for you, keeping the true nature of your conversation a secret. “Even Ginny’s managed to catch the chosen one.”

You huff out a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

“Ah,” George muses. “But I am an idiot with a date.”

Fred grins at the two of you and your banter. “Angelina’s better off without you as her date.” He jokes.

A laugh passes your throat, Fred joining in with you. “Oh, sod off!” George pipes before shoving the two of you out to get ready.

• • • • •

Hours later you find yourself ready on time, a shocking revelation to you and each of the Weasley’s. And George is too. He sits beside you grinning like a mad man. Fred is on your other side, smiling all the same.

The ceremony is wonderful and quaint. You knew the moment you saw Fleur all those years ago, just how beautiful she was, but you never could have imagined just how much you’d grow to think of her like a sister. And it’s funny because you’re neither a Delacour nor a Weasley, and yet you feel like you belong. It’s different from the love you know Harry and Hermione feel for the Weasley’s, because ultimately, they’ll both marry in and it will be official, and as much as you love Fred, you know that will likely never be the case for you. But that’s the thing you love most about Molly and Arthur and their children: you don’t have to be related by marriage or blood to be a Weasley.

And seeing Fleur and Bill smile, seeing the pure happiness that they exude in this moment, it makes you forget why you ever questioned coming. It makes you hope that one day you can find what they have. You’d spent the last few minutes mesmerized by their first dance as a married couple. You’re so caught in a trance that you don’t hear the clapping when they’ve finished and stepped off the dance floor.

Your eyes snap up at the clearing of a throat beside you. George nudges you and you turn to look at him. He points at Fred who’s gazing at you curiously. You must have looked like a daft idiot, an utter love struck expression on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You laugh. “Did you say something Freddie?”

“Dance with me?” He asks.

Fred’s question lingers as you contemplate whether or not to accept his outstretched arm. But then your eyes drift up to his, and you catch the mischievous glint that rests in them. It’s in that moment that you know there is no turning back.

Groaning, you relent into his touch. “One dance.” You say, but you know that if he asked, you’d dance the night away.

The grin that spreads onto his face is nothing short of beautiful. It’s unmistakably perfect the way the light catches his features, his ginger hair glowing in the overcast moonlight, and an ethereal aura glistens from his skin. Fred looks youthful...and he looks undeniably happy.

Gripping your hand, he leads you to the dance floor. You catch a brief glimpse of Bill whose lips are tugged into an encouraging smile. Fred snaps your attention back to him as he pulls you into his body, bringing your arms to rest around his shoulders. You can hear the faint thrumming of the slow and melodic music drifting towards you, but all you register is the sound of Fred’s heart beating against yours. Wrapping yourself in his embrace, you allow yourself one second to believe that he might feel the same.

Your feet move in sync almost flawlessly, and it’s as if you’re reading each other’s movements without any effort. (Despite being known for your clumsy nature). But if you’re being honest, it’s always been like that with Fred....easy that is. Easy to read each other, easy to be with each other. It’s just natural.

“You’re quite graceful Freddie.” You nudge him playfully, breaking the silence between you.

“And you’re quite...” his voice drifts softly, “something.”

The half scoff, half laugh you let out rings in his ears. “Are you implying that I’m not a good dancing partner?”

“You’re a formidable partner love, just a shit dancer.”

Your eyes light up in amusement. “Well we can’t all be as graceful and beautiful as you Fred Weasley.”

He plays along happily. “No.” He agrees. “I guess we can’t. But I reckon everything else about you, your beauty, your wit, your affinity for kindness, makes up for your lack of dancing skills.”

It’s that self assured attitude that draws you to him. Yet he’s not the slightest bit arrogant. He simply believes in himself, knows his strengths and his weaknesses, is completely aware of his self worth, and he won’t let anyone tell him otherwise. It’s addicting to be around, and a quality so desperately you wish you could find in yourself.

And when Fred compliments you, you can believe that he’s telling you the truth. He makes you believe things about yourself that you would never dream to think about on your own. As cheesy as it sounds, he makes you feel seen. He makes you feel special. And it’s so strange because for as long as you can remember, everyone has always thought of you as merely the best friend of the infamous Weasley twins. Hardly to anyone had you been your own person with your own identity. But Fred never made you feel like that. You’ve always been someone to him, not just a product of who you chose to be friends with.

“You shouldn’t say things like that you know.” Your voice goes quiet.

Fred notices the change in your body language as you begin to close yourself off from him. “Why not?” He asks. “It’s the truth isn’t it?”

Your eyes catch his and your breath hitches. This feels like something. It feels like a moment, the moment that you’ve been waiting for. You never believed Fred could ever feel the same for you, but the look he’s giving you feels so so real.

“Fred, do you-“ You start, but he cuts in for you.

“Feel it too?” He finishes.

“Yeah.”

“I do.” He replies.

Your heart races in your chest as he pulls you closer into his embrace. This confession of feelings is nearly wordless, and yet it feels perfect. You’ve never needed to say a lot to Fred for him to understand you.

You’ve always just had that kind of connection.

You barely notice that you’re still dancing, your bodies moving on autopilot. And the people around you fade to nothing. Your focus is solely on the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your movements slow as Fred tilts your chin towards his face. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 11 years old.” He says. It’s nearly impossible for your mind to process it. “I’ve known for so long, I just didn’t want to ruin what we have. But I reckon if there’s ever a time to do it, now seems pretty good.”

A gentle smile rests on your face, your heart warm at his words. “Now is perfect.”

Fred hums softly, his warm brown eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. He sees nothing but adoration staring right back at him.

“Can I kiss you?” This is the first time you’ve seen Fred so timid.

You smile coyly, nodding your head. “Such a gentleman.” You tease, pulling him gently towards you. Your lips meet so softly and briefly that you almost miss it.

But no matter how brief, it’s a feeling you’ll never forget. You both want more of each other, but you also know that standing in front of Fred’s immediate and extended family and friends, you can’t simply put on a show for the world to see, as much as he wants to.

You pull back for a moment only to find yourself wrapped in each other’s arms, swaying to the music. Most people in your situation would say something. Maybe they’d profess their love, or whisper sweet nothings into their lover’s ear, but right here, right now, words don’t need to be used.

You don’t need to say I love you to feel that you are loved. And you know Fred feels the same.

• • • • •

Off to the side, Bill takes a moment to part from his wife, approaching his younger brother with a shit eating grin.

“Bloody hell.” George runs a hand through his hair, spotting Bill striding towards him.

Their eyes lock for a moment and George notices his oldest brother’s lip quirk upward. “You owe me 20 galleons.” Bill states matter-of-factly.

George grumbles, reaching into his pocket to pull out the payment. Handing it to Bill, he smiles. “Get back to your wife you tosser.”

Bill nods, taking a step towards Fleur. He turns to face his brother, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just know, when they get married, I’m telling everyone I won.”

///////////////////

Taglist:

@amourtentiaa

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x y/n

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

He Calls Me Honey Tits

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: Here’s the third and last part of you and Arthur being lovers during his time in the whorehouse! In which this cheeky bastard slathers honey on your tits and teases you and pleases you until you’ve never been so damn aroused 🙃🍯💦

Pairing: King Arthur x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, Brothel Boy Arthur being a cheeky little shit (licking honey off your tits, eating you out and denying you his dick until you beg for it)

Word Count: ~2.2k

… Continued from Part 2 [Read Here]

“How may I be of service, honeybee?”

The beaming blue-eyed bastard leads you to his bedchamber and softly shuts the door. Though he’s the brothel boy it feels like you’re the whore. You’re far more smitten in his presence than you want to be.

Sensing the indignation fuming off your body, Arthur smirks as if it’s funny. “Anybody ever told you that you’re lovely when you’re huffy?”

Suddenly, your cunt lips feel swollen and puffy. Slick as if this cheeky thief had dipped his finger in your honey. Try to stay composed and classy. “You can’t work your charms to get your petty crime past me. This is about the money.”

“But of course it is. Just business.” Arthur winks and it’s without a doubt the wickedest shit you have ever witnessed.

Keep your wits before he sucks you deeper into this—whatever this shit is. “You said that we could meet at your place to sort out the fucking payment. Here I am to fucking claim it.”

“Ohh, she bites,” he taunts like he has any right. “Such nasty language from a mouth so nice. Love, what’s your price? Just name it.”

“I am not your love!” you furiously huff.

“Not yet. But I’d bet just the thought has got your honeypot all wet.”

Did he just—he just—sweet mother of Jesus—

“Mmm, I’d love a taste,” he teases. Sea-blue gaze mirrors the lust that’s written all across your face. “Can’t let such honey go to waste.”

“You’ve stolen quite enough already, I daresay.”

His voice is steady, yet his cock is raging madly as he steps so close that you can almost feel it. “Didn’t steal it. You just let it slip away.”

All your dignity and self-restraint, that is. Such is the picture that his passionate words paint; he’s driving you to fucking madness. Sheer destruction through seduction is this little bastard’s favorite game to play. And he won’t stop until he’s buried in your honeypot today.

***************

Just how this sweet sticky mess ended up spread all across your tits, you can’t quite say.

Fuck it. You’re naked on the boy-whore’s bed with honey slathered on your bare breasts and your cunt is dripping buckets. Blue eyes own you where you lay. Somehow the bastard has convinced you that for what he stole from you today at market, shameless pleasure is the best way to repay.

The session started with a fight over the jar that he had thieved. He taunted you until he wanted you more than he could believe. More than his station in this house even allows. Voices raised, daggers from your gaze. Aroused. Amazed.

Saw how his thirst aligned with yours, as shouts and hisses flung between you turned to roars, and pinned you down onto the bed with feral force. Paused to make certain you were both on the same page. A man of care and caution though the beast in him may rage.

And here and now with words unspoken that blue gaze of his explores. Impales you to the core, seeks out your secret inner whore. All set to free her from your inhibitions’ cage. The truth of you that any other man including your own lawfully wedded pig always ignores.

Do you want to fucking engage?

Of fucking course.

And so you do. Fire and water all at once, this man’s effect upon your cunt, flaming and fluid. This is what true pleasure is, you think as he attacks heavy and hot. Slut for the once and future king of fucking Camelot. Already his, as he claims your lips in a cataclysmic kiss, crashing together in a spell of breathless bliss.

He tastes of courage. Hunger, unfed all the stronger. Poor boy forced to live on stolen scraps and half-full bowls of porridge. Forced to fight and fuck and forage. Forge his way through filth without the faintest clue his royal blood doesn’t belong here. Here with you he’s poor no longer.

First few minutes of your time spent in his bed the boy-whore shatters you to bits.

And now you’re here with stolen honey smeared across your naked tits.

You gasp a giddy laugh at how ridiculous this funny business is. “You cheeky little shit!”

He smirks and lets the now half-empty jar of honey clatter to the floor. Hovering over you all set to make damn sure... that you will always and forever be his filthy little whore. “You know you fucking love it, honey tits.”

No fucking use denying it.

Arthur as well had stripped his shirt off earlier, in those first few seconds of this passionate blur, so you can see and feel the sculpted muscles of his abdomen and chest. He is a god and nothing less. Those chiseled ridges rub against your honey-covered skin and make a fucking mess. His mouth descends deliciously on yours again as skillful hands knead at the soft flesh of your breasts.

“Sweet little goddess,” he breathes out amidst the kisses and it’s too much to be honest. King among men making you feel like his queen. “Swear you’re the loveliest damn thing I’ve ever seen. The loveliest.”

The purity—he’s doing you so dirty, loving you so clean. Feel you belong here with him surely, more than anywhere on earth you’ve ever been.

Your fingers fist twined in his glorious gold locks. Hips bucking frantic to seek friction up against the fucking hard bulge of his cock. Still sheathed in cloth as he’s not yet disrobed his lower half, to free his raging shaft—likely to burst right through the fabric since he’s so massive and solid as a rock.

With every second that huge cock of his grows harder, taking your desire farther. Inner slut escapes the cage that he’s unlocked.

“Ughh—fuck me, Arthur...” you cry out, needy and loud, all honey-smothered, hot and bothered. “Fuck...”

His focus shifts off of your lips down to your neck and then your chest and suddenly he starts to suck.

Your mouth gapes wide to make a sound but has no luck.

Choking on air as you surrender to his touch. He’s just too much. Soft lips squeeze tight around your nipple, slurping honey as it dribbles. Grinds the stiffness of his meat against the wet heat of your crotch. Glittering blue eyes glance at you beneath the gold fringe of his lashes, as your body throbs and thrashes. Getting off on the effect he has because he loves to watch.

You moan and whimper, one breast lavished in attention from his slick tongue while he works the other with his skillful fingers. Swipes his thumb across your stiff peak as he teases at the other with the pearl ridge of his teeth until your senses fall apart. “Please, Art...”

The bastard chuckles in a breathy little huff. “Don’t worry, love. Promise I’ll fuck you good and hard,” he reassures you meaning it with all his heart. “Just thought I’d better whet my appetite to start.”

Of course he’d crack a stupid fucking pun, while you’re coming undone. Scrapes his enormous bulge against your aching cunt, with a deep grunt, reminding you what you both want. How hard he’s gotten and how wet you are. You’re seeing fucking stars.

Flattens his tongue against the valley of your cleavage now to slobber up the sugary gold mess that’s gathered there. Licks slowly upward as he owns you with the bright blue of his stare. Honey spreads all across his trimmed blonde beard and sweetens every hair.

Of all the men upon this earth no one has ever been so fair.

Dips in the hollow of your throat, and you damn well nearly explode.

And then those luscious lips are back on yours again. Lose track of where your breathing ends and his begins.

The taste of honey should be overwhelming sweet, but something sweeter yet sparks into being where your soul and his so intimately meet. The hunger only this can feed. Each on the road to being everything the other ever needs. Perhaps not so just yet, but in the moment you first met, he’d planted that passionate seed.

Already want him now to plant another seed deep in your hole. Already know that someday he will fill that role.

But not today—today is all about pure pleasure and the game he came to play.

To claim you as his whore in every goddamned way.

Between kisses you plead with him although it’s such a struggle now to talk. “Please, Arthur—fuck...”

He snickers. That majestic bulge of his harder, and bigger. “Mmm, so pretty when you’re begging for my cock.”

Those words—the sheer filth has you so aroused it hurts—you shut your eyes for fear they’ll pop out of your sockets.

He reminds you now of how you had denied him when he’d asked you for a sample of your product. Shut that door and tried to lock it. On his own terms he had gotten his hands on it, taking what he wanted. Dirty and dishonest. “Wouldn’t let me taste your sweet honey at market. Seems I’ll have to steal that pleasure from your honeypot myself before I fuck it.”

Oh, that’s obscene—wait, does he mean—what—shit...

Upon the bed he shifts, sudden and swift, a blaze of sex, until his lust-crazed gaze is level with the slick between your legs. And that’s when the truth of it hits.

Young Arthur’s hunger for your cunt is even stronger than his hunger for your tits.

The two of you have kissed and licked most of the honey from each other’s mouths by now so that his tongue is mostly clean. And that’s exactly as he wants it so that he can taste the flavor of his lovely future queen.

He’s a complete whore for your flavor. Buries his beautiful face deep in your folds like every precious drop was made for him to savor. All at once delicate yet dominant, as he feasts on your cunt. Art makes an art of it, worshipping every part of it.

Your wetness glistens as it gushes out across his gorgeous features from the second he descends; and yet with him the peak of pleasure’s not the end. Rather the very fucking start of it.

You shout his name, loud without shame, your inner slut unleashed with only him to blame. Your body and soul absolutely his to claim. The stolen honey and the money were just all part of the game; he knows that this is why you came.

Needless to say you need his cock inside you now but he intends to make you beg. He could spend days continuing to feed facedown between your legs.

One of his hands has wandered down to his own crotch to give himself the stimulation he deserves, now as two fingers of his other hand are pumping in your hole, while he devours your cunt whole, lips latching tight around your tender bud of nerves.

Your thousandth wave of pleasure rolls. Scream for his cock until he’s finally stripped himself naked and mounts you with his rippled muscles pressed against your curves.

And now at last uses your body for the purpose it was put on earth to serve.

Your tight hot cunt is so completely fucking soaked, he nearly chokes and almost spills his load inside of you at his first fucking stroke.

Catches his breath and bites his tongue, knowing he can’t hold off for long. Till now he’s never known true home. The women of this brothel housed him and raised him since he was young, yet though he’s grateful for their love he never quite seemed to belong. With you he does as though he’s been here all along. Feels like the whole world is his kingdom. Kingdom finally fucking come.

You’re feeling everything the same. Someday his queen for now his filthy little slut. The flood. The flame. The fluid heat as you’re split open on this man’s majestic meat until you feel his power beating in your blood. The beast in each of you untamed. Such fucking force. His power is all fucking yours. Of fucking course.

Kisses you long and deep and hard, until the white hot bliss that’s burning through him shatters into shards.

Pulls out in time to take his meat in his own fist and spray his seed across your stomach and your chest. Painting you like a work of art. Pearly white gleams against the honey gold that still clings to the soft skin of your breasts. Just from the feel of being coated in his load your throbbing cunt pulses until it falls apart, convulses in a rush of pleasure rooted somewhere in your slutty little heart. You’ve never felt so fucking blessed. Of all the moments of your life to date this is without a doubt the fucking best.

Yet this is all just how it starts. Your days here in the boy-whore’s bed have just begun and you don’t doubt he’ll take you to new heights of ecstasy for all the fucking rest.

He’s feeling everything the same. Smiles and calls you by your name—honey tits.

Knows you fucking love it. Though at first you’d claimed the reason for this visit was just business... clearly that’s not what this is. Business has turned to pleasure just as you both wanted it.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did! 🤗💗

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#charlie hunnam #king arthur #king arthur legend of the sword #arthur pendragon #king arthur smut #king arthur imagine #king arthur fanfiction #charlie hunnam smut #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #king arthur x reader #king arthur x you #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon x you #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #brothel boy arthur

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pars-ley · 3 years

Note

hi! i just came across your page the other day and i’ve read all of your drabbles and stories multiple times lol! so for my ask, i would love it if you did a college AU with popularjock!jk and have it be similar to the movie ‘A Cinderella Story’. some angst with smut and a happy ending if possible! oh and bestfriendjimin! as well :) hope this is not too much to request! ily

At the stroke of Midnight

Pairing: Jungkook x f reader

Summary: One popular boy + One 'uncool' girl + One school dance + One necklace left behind = A cinderella story.

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Smut / Cinderella au / A Cinderella story au / comedy / popular jock jungkook / best friend Jimin

Warnings: Suggestive language / sex

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Word Count: 4k

Beta reader: @casuallyimagining

A/N: I am so sorry this has taken me so long! I had no clue about this film, so writing this entailed some research and me watching the movie...twice haha. I really hope I did it justice for you and you enjoy it. Thank you for the request!

"So, what's prince charming saying now that's so much more important than your best friend?" Jimin pouts, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

You flush slightly. "He wants to meet." Grimacing at the words.

"And that's a problem, why?"

You bury your head in your hands. "Because I'm me and I'm certainly no one special, what if he's disappointed?" You groan, the dilemma churning your gut and making you feel like your breakfast could make a second appearance.

"Hey," Jimin scoots closer to you along the bench and throws an arm around your shoulder. "No best friend of mine gets away with speaking about herself like that. You are lovely, and if he thinks you're anything other than amazing, there's something wrong with him and he needs to be studied in a lab."

You laugh in spite of yourself, hearing Jimin’s words rattle around in your brain, knowing that you should not be this hard on yourself. You lean into his snug embrace.

You open up Tumblr and stare at the conversation between you and @gameoverguk. Your favourite gaming blog you’ve followed for ages, by chance seeing your gaming fan art and following you back was one thing, but conversing with him and finding out that he also attended your school was a completely different matter. Trying to solve the equation of who this mysterious creator might be is harder than you thought. And the way he converses with you, so open and honest and sweet, that had to narrow it down surely?

Something slams into your back, pain immediately in its wake. You and Jimin turn to see the popular boy of your university, Jungkook, gawking at you and his best friend Taehyung in hysterics.

Jimin looks down in the grass behind you at the offending apple and calls, “Hey, watch it guys.”

“Really sorry!” Jungkook calls over, a slight dusting of scarlet across his cheeks but looks like he’s also fighting a laugh. It burns you how someone so smug can still be so handsome, and you hate yourself for even thinking about him in any way other than the airhead jock that he is.

Taehyung jogs over and picks it up, still somewhat amused. “What, didn’t your crystal ball tell you that was gonna happen?” He says to you, loud enough for everyone in a mile radius to hear.

You cringe inwardly, attempting to fight your embarrassment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the top athletes in this university? And you can’t even catch an apple.” Jimin snarks in your defense.

His face drops as he looks like he’s about to take a step towards you both.

“Tae!” Jungkook calls, an air of command in his voice, breaking the tense air as he looks away from you ruefully. Walking off with Taehyung following, eating his apple and laughing between bites.

“Ignore them.” Jimin says sternly. “Speaking of, are you working tonight?”

Your face falls into an unamused expression, as if he even had to ask.

You were working so much you were almost taking residence at your step-mums 'magic shop', as everyone called it.

He smiles at you, his nose wrinkling, and you can’t help your face softening.

“Ok, ok, my bad. Can I swing by later? I need some more incense.”

You shrug, grabbing your bag and chucking it over your shoulder. “Sure. I’d be glad of the company to be honest.”

“Ooooh, maybe we could do a seance?”

You glare at him and head off to class causing his melodious laugh to ring out around you.

Sitting in the bleachers after class, with your sketchpad and pencil, the perfect view of the city line and the departing sun staring back at you, you sketch away. The pencil etching fast across your paper as you manage to block out the sounds of the team practicing and their bodies crashing against each other.

Long after you've lost yourself in your landscape, fingers grey and shiny from shading, you neglect to hear some of the team members leaving, climbing over the seats and headed in your direction. That is until your pad is snatched from underneath you as you frantically grapple for it, without success.

"You know, this isn't where the nerds hang out." Taehyung smirks at his two other buddies, clearly impressed with himself.

You let out a bored sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you owned the bleachers." Your words drip with sarcasm.

His face drops and a mean glare spreads across his features as he throws your drawing pad in the air. You watch helplessly as the pages flutter in the wind as it flies away and disappears under the stands.

"Have a nice night." He says quietly, an attempt to be intimidating, as him and his friends leave.

Your veins alight with fury, hands balled into fists at your sides. You wanted to stamp your feet like a petulant child. This isn't fair. Why you?

It's only then you notice Jeon Jungkook standing on the field watching. Embarrassment suddenly extinguishes your angry flames as he breaks your gaze first, walking off under the bleachers. You grab your bag to leave for work before you suffer any more humiliation.

As you reach the last step you yelp with surprise as Jungkook appears suddenly in your view, you manage to steel yourself before tumbling into him.

You stare at him, wishing he'd get on with it and tease you so you can go...but it doesn't come. Instead he hands you your sketchpad, gently dusting off the pages.

You take it, a hesitant, "thanks," ghosts from your lips.

"I'm sorry about him." He says quietly.

You shrug. "Not your fault, I guess."

Seconds tick by as you both stare awkwardly at each other, unsure what else could be said.

"You're pretty. I-I mean, it-it's pretty." He stammers, tapping the unfinished sketch in your book. "You're very talented."

Your cheeks flush an undignified fuchsia as you duck your head slightly, letting your hair hide you. "Thank you."

He offers you a weak smile before giving you a halfhearted wave and jogging off across the field, leaving you watching his back, perplexed at the exchange you've had.

You stare at your messages, every moment he can see you're online and not replying makes your cheeks flush crimson and makes your mind run frantic.

Meet me at the Happy Holidays dance.

Could you?

It’s the first holiday dance your university has put on--one you had no intention of going to, because you frankly didn't need the added teasing from the popular kids. It is a masquerade ball however, so no one had to know it was you, you could fall pleasantly under the radar.

Were you really considering this?

What did you have to lose? You can hide behind the comfort of your mask. If he discovers it's you, it's his problem if he doesn't like that, Jimin is absolutely right.

Ok. Where will I find you?

You press send and chuck your phone down, throwing your head in your pillow to scream. Did you actually just do that!? No taking it back now, it's out there.

When you hear your text tone sound you scramble quickly back to it.

By the old sundial outside. At 10.00?

You grin dorkishly at your phone, typing a quick reply.

Sure. See you then.

You call your number one speed dial, two rings in and Jimin's voice sounds.

"I was just going to call you, how strange. Listen, do you remember that time I-?"

"I'm in need of some urgent assistance. I just agreed to go to the holiday dance!"

He cackles excitedly on the other end. "I'll be right over!"

As you step out of Jimin's car you have to lift your ice blue dress up to avoid the floor...and tripping. How Jimin pulled this costume together in time, you'll never know, he's taking that secret to the grave.

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and adjust your matching lace mask, making sure it's comfortable.

"Ok, go get him tiger." He roars, as he swipes a clawed hand in front of you.

You giggle at his silly antics and take a deep breath before giving him a final nod and heading into the dance.

From the moment you walk in, you want to go home. This is a bad idea. He won't be interested when he finds out it's really you.

You have no time to continue your anguished thoughts as you get swept up in the crowd, fighting your way through to grab a drink. Standing to the side and surveying everyone's costumes, noticing a lot of dark or bright colour choices, you being one of the only people in a pale colour, making you stand out more. Something you were definitely hoping to avoid.

A few songs later and the clock in the hall catches your eye, noticing you had fifteen minutes until you meet your mystery man.

You head outside, footsteps echoing along the cobbled floor, and see that the outside is empty save for a few smoking and talking.

You get to the large, metal sundial and wait. Stomach churning from the butterflies that swarm wildly inside.

"Blue hour artist?" You hear your Tumblr tag spoken behind you and freeze.

You're about to meet him, come face to face with the person who understands you more than anyone, who opens up to you in ways most people wouldn't and who's creativity knows no bounds.

You turn slowly, not knowing who to expect but definitely not who you're faced with.

"Jeon Jungkook!? You're 'game over guk'?" You ask, your mouth popped open in shock.

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "that's not fair, you're wearing a mask. How will I know who you are?"

You stare at him, trying to find words to answer his question, but the fact that it's him stood before you blows you away.

How could this be? The person you've been talking to online is the complete opposite to Jungkook and yet, here he is, one and the same.

"You'll h-have to guess." You try to get yourself together.

His mouth stretches into a toothy smile. "Ok, how about we play '21 questions' to help me guess?"

You nod, playing with your fingernails out of nerves.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks, looking over at one of the benches.

"Um, no, I'd rather walk, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, sure." He agrees eagerly and you head off down the pathway around the building.

A few awkward side glances between the two of you and he finally asks, "Do we have any classes together?"

"No."

"Ok, narrows it down slightly."

You take this opportunity to look at what he's wearing and he's every part the Prince charming. In a white satin shirt, with light blue trousers and a one shoulder half capelet to match, complete with silver, trim detail. Surprisingly similar to your choice of dress, what a strange coincidence.

"You take art I assume?" He asks, into the comfortable silence.

You nod. "That's an obvious one." You refer to your Tumblr page full of your fan art and projects.

He smiles bashfully and your stomach flips at the sight, feeling like a true-life Disney princess with heart eyes and birds singing above your head.

"I don't know many girls in art." He admits,

"Ok, what about outside uni, do you go to any popular hangouts?"

Your cheeks flush, knowing you're admitting how dorky and uncool you are. "Nope."

"Ok, harder than I thought." He laughs, revealing his perfect teeth again. "Do you have a job?"

Nodding again, you play with the hem of your lace sleeve, channeling your nerves into the action.

As you're about to answer, your heel gets stuck in between the paving stone, causing you to buckle. Panic strikes you. You cannot fall over and embarrass yourself! Not when finding out who you are will be embarrassing enough. Luckily, you steady yourself against a nearby lamppost before falling on your face but at the cost of leaving your shoe stuck in the ground.

You tuck your leg up under your dress, steadying yourself against the street light, directly underneath the assaulting brightness, illuminating you like a spotlight.

Jungkook rushes over to your lonesome blue stiletto and retrieves it before crouching on one knee in front of you.

You stare at him, eyes wide and alarmed by his sudden closeness as he holds out your shoe in the most sincere way.

You bring your foot down and arch it back into its rightful holster. As you do, his fingertips graze your ankle, sending a flush of heat cascading up your body and neck, stopping only at your hairline.

He lingers there, looking up at you with huge doe eyes, but with a severe intensity you've never noticed from him before.

His fingers skate up your leg slightly as he rises, sending a delicious shiver through you. His fingers tips hint at your hand, you yearn to reach out and hold it, as he stands mere centimeters away from you. His intoxicating scent swirling around you like your own personal hurricane, taking your composed state and tearing through it, leaving it whimpering weakly on the ground. His face is too close to yours and yet not close enough. You feel feverish from his proximity and yet you need him closer to sate your heat.

Your breast vibrates from the aggressive pounding of your heart. Having him here on his knees in front of you, something not even acceptable in your wildest dreams and yet, here he is.

The person you've gotten to know so well, such a contrast to the person you've seen around campus. But then again, he seems to like the person he's gotten to know too, maybe he won't be as disappointed when he realises who you are? Maybe you can kid yourself into thinking that.

A chiming sounds in the distance, barely there and yet it creeps further into your subconscious.

"Your phone is ringing." He whispers, his breath tickling your face, as his eyes still blaze into yours.

'My phone. My phone? Oh, my phone!' Your muddled thoughts clear themselves enough for you to understand his words. You pull it out of your little silver handbag and see Jimin's number on screen.

"Hello?" You ask, staring dreamily at Jungkook who is rooted firmly in his spot.

"Ok, I apologise if you're throat-deep around prince charming’s dick but I really need to make it home before midnight so my dad doesn't turn me into a pumpkin...and by that I mean, pounded, pulped and pressed into pumpkin pie."

You snap out of it suddenly, realising Jimin's words and not wanting him to get in trouble because of you. "Of course. I'm coming, right now."

Jungkook's eyes flit back to reality with a deep frown. His hand clasps yours as you hang up and tuck your phone back into your bag. Your legs, already moving towards the front entrance where he would be waiting.

"Wait," Jungkook's pleading pierces right into your chest, feeling your resolve bubble up to the surface, enticing you to stay and see where the night takes you. But you don't.

"I can't, I have to go." You say, gently slipping your hand from his and jogging elegantly to the front parking lot.

When you see Jimin's dads silver Rolls Royce, you're suddenly eager to get in and share your news.

"So...did you meet him!?" An excited Jimin shakes your arm as you close the door behind you.

"Yes. You will never guess who he is." You fasten your belt and Jimin pulls off quickly, both of you wincing as he narrowly misses a barrier post on the way out of the campus.

"Who?"

You smile to yourself, heart fit to burst. "Jeon Jungkook."

Jimin's foot taps on the brakes, lurching you forward.

"I'm sorry. What?" He turns to you, eyes wider than you've ever seen them. "As in, popular boy, sex god Jungkook?"

You scoff. "Who told you he was a sex god?"

"I'm making assumptions. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." He grins as he elbows you in the ribs and sets off driving you home, while excitement rapidly blooms inside you.

You dropped your necklace.

You read the words over and over, unsure what your response should be. You needed that necklace. The simple silver chain holding the tiny teardrop pearl. It was all you had left of your dad. When he died, your step-mother sold most of his things, including gifts he bought for you. This was your last, most cherished item. The only reason you were allowed to keep it is that you were wearing it at the time and you haven't taken it off since. Losing it had your chest aching. You stared at Jungkook's last message until sleep over took you.

Monday morning. Eyes gritty and burning, you wake to the sea of sleep trying to entice you back to its darkening depths but you fight your fluttering eyelids and get ready for a new day.

How are you going to look at Jungkook now? You should tell him who you are. Yes, you'll do that and get your necklace back and it'll be happily ever after.

Only it won't.

From your experience happily ever after doesn't happen for most people, even accomplished, brilliant, beautiful people. You're entirely average and ordinary, why would it happen for you?

By the time you get to campus, your manic mind has been changed numerous times. You decide to wait until you see him, which you spend every moment of your arrival scanning the faces that pass you.

"Hey, hey, Jelly Bean. Looking for me?" Jimin's cheerful face comes into full view, distracting you.

He's clearly unimpressed with whatever expression you're portraying currently, as he pouts and turns to the sea of faces. "Clearly, I no longer matter, now you've got big dick Jungkook."

You hush him loudly, looking around to ensure there were no listening ears. "Firstly, I'm begging you, stop talking about his dick and secondly, stop being stupid."

He laughs at your stressed rant. "Ok, ok, jeez. Is he meeting you this morning?"

Your body tenses, knowing, already hearing the lecture he's about to scold you with.

"You didn't tell him, did you? He still has no idea it's you!?" He sighs, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, typical Jimin fashion. "I swear to god...If you don't tell him, I will."

Your head snaps over to him as you walk side by side into the building, glaring menacingly in his direction. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugs. "Try me, scaredy cat."

You huff and scrub at your tired eyes. "Let me just get through my classes then we shall discuss this."

He laughs as he tussles your hair and heads off in the opposite direction.

Your day passes fairly quickly, even though your struggle to stay awake during lectures only grows.

You do not see Jungkook, which is not unusual as you're not even in the same wings of the building most of the time.

Jimin's frantic waving has you puzzled as a deep frown creases your brow as you walk towards him, his jumping and pointing most unusual. It's only when you see a set of hands directly in front of you and feel your necklace land on your chest as it's draped across your collar bones, that you stop in your tracks.

Those hands, warm at the back of your neck and a mouth next to your ear saying, "I told you I'd look after it and return it." Unmistakably Jungkook's voice whispers in your ear making you quiver.

When his hands are gone you look down and find relief washing over you with the familiar feel of your necklace, having felt bare and empty without it.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?" He asks, stepping in front of you with a big bunny smile.

Wide eyed with shock, your mouth gapes open with the slow realization that he is, in fact, talking to you. "How-how did you…" Words fail you as you frantically think of any way you might have let slip your identity but coming up empty.

"How did I know it was you?" He asks, mouth pulled on one side in a smile. "When you dropped your necklace as you left the dance, I recognized it instantly. "

"Wh-what?" You squeak out. You attempt to swallow your confusion enough to form a coherent sentence. "On what planet would someone like you notice anything about someone like me."

A look of hurt flashes across his face, almost as if you'd slapped him as he takes a step towards you, a hair's width away now. "How could I not notice you? You're beautiful and smart, you don't follow the crowd and you're kind to everyone, I've noticed everything the last two years. I've just never spoken to you properly because….well...what do I have to offer someone like you, with endless talents and interests, a charming personality to boot and just when I think that's all there is, I discover something else about you. I'm just the school jock, popularity gets me opportunities, I don't have to work hard for anything...I feel...inferior to you. Worthless."

Your heart aches, hearing the words you feel escaping his mouth. How could that be possible? How on earth could he be so utterly mistaken, so completely wrong about himself?

"But gameoverguk is nothing like that person you're describing. If that's truly who you are?" You question quietly.

He nods, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook, I'm a gamer geek, I'm good at sports, I enjoy bike rides on the weekend and finding new food spots and I'd really like to take you out sometime...if you'll let me."

You feel your lips stretch into an undeniable grin. "Nice to finally meet you Jungkook. I'd love to."

As you aim the plastic machine gun, keeping it steady in your armpit and pointed towards the screen, you and Jungkook race through the game, taking down your enemies at every chance. When your team name, "Blue Hour Gamer" flashes in neon letters on screen as the winners, your hollering and hooting fill the arcade.

You don't even care that people are watching, not when you jump up and high five each other or when that high five turns into a hug, or when that hug very quickly turns into a kiss. You don't care.

You pull away quickly, embarrassment finding its way to dust your cheeks scarlet. Until you feel his hand press your lower back to him, your bodies crushing together and moving in perfect sync, making their own rhythm and inviting you to sing with it.

Heat blazes inside you like a wildfire, capturing everything else in its path and turning into thoughtless ash in the wind. Nothing else mattered, just him, his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, caressing so gently and yet setting your skin aflame.

Before you knew it, you were at his small, studio apartment, realising you had no clue he lived alone but thankful for that just the same.

When your back finds the bed, you sink into it, disappearing into a cloud of euphoria as he roams your body, slow and meaningful. Every touch makes you feel things you never have before, and every movement brings you closer to the edge of the precipice.

The way his mouth feels on you as he explores your body sends sparks of electricity racing through you. The way he feels inside you with each perfect, controlled movement lights you up like the sunrise after dark, warming you with its rays as you stare off the cliff edge and brace yourself for the impact. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks deeply into your eyes, something so sweet and pure in the action that your chest swells with emotion. His forehead touches yours as he moves in perfect time with your pounding heart. Suddenly you're falling, everything going past in a rush before crashing onto a sea of ecstasy, writhing and moaning until your climax subsides and his has joined in unison.

A tender kiss on your head, his arm winding around you, pulling you to him and encasing you in the perfect safety net is enough. Maybe he'll be your happily ever after, after all.

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goggles-mcgee · 3 years

Text

Too Late: Alya & Nino (commission for miner249er)

Fourth chapter of @miner249er ‘s commission

Chapter Summary: The truth is harsh. Teens are harsher.

Previous Work

Last Chapter Next Chapter

Truth.

As an aspiring journalist it was something Alya strived for. It was the most important thing she could give the people who followed her so diligently. She thought she had been giving them that. She had been so good about giving them the truth, her truth, and Ladybug’s truth in the past, she foolheartedly believed she was continuing to do so despite taking shortcuts later on in the road. Why didn’t she fact check herself? Why did she throw that very thing in Marinette’s face? What kind of reporter was she? What kind of friend was she? The answers were all around her and yet she still wasn’t ready to face them head on. There was still that voice in her head that was telling her that this was all Lila Rossi’s fault.

But is it? Alya thought as her and Nino ate together at her house, the TV on in the background. At first it had been on the news but Alya was done with the news for a long while, all it had been was coverage of The Protector and Nino had immediately taken the remote and changed it to cartoons. This was hitting him hard, harder than Alya had expected if she was being honest. When they found out Ladybug and Chat Noir had, in fact, not defeated The Protector and instead the akuma, that Marinette had gone missing, it hit the class hard. Hard because they learned the truth about Lila in that time and that had been rough to work through. Then they had to come to the realization that they believed Lila over Marinette, the sweet, kind, selfless girl that had all at one point been friends with.

Then the lies got to them. It poisoned them. That’s what Alya had written on her blog anyways. They were victims of a silver-tongue and they had paid the price, one they had not been prepared to pay for. Their friend was missing, had been missing and they couldn’t do anything. Alya had been searching through as many local papers and news around the world for any clues if Marinette had possibly gone to those places. Everything was coming up empty. She had even made a separate website along with Max all about Marinette and what had happened, she left ways to reach her and her classmates in case anyone had any info. Nino said they should have added Tom and Sabine’s information as well but Alya was too scared to ask them if they would be okay with it, last time they had all been at the bakery the tension had been palpable.

They weren’t banned like Nathaniel had worried they would be but every time they went in with their families, because that was the only time they went in there, it was always awkward. Tom and Sabine were much too nice to ban them even if they felt like they deserved it. How did everything go so wrong? Even school wasn’t as fun as it had been. Walking into their classroom was like taking a walk of shame, people from other classes, even teachers just stared at them. Some even glared. Then there were the whispers, Dieu the whispers, they followed them everywhere not just school, but they were the most prominent there. Her, Nino, and their classmates would find notes in their lockers, none were really threatening but they tore at her heart all the same. Things like, ‘You’re the reason she’s gone,’ or, ‘Are you guys proud of yourselves now?’ ‘Were the lies worth it?’ ‘You traded in a gem for fool’s gold.’ ‘What a reporter you turned out to be.’

All the notes hurt. That was the truth. That last one? She had found it in her locker this morning and it burned. Alya had been bullied before, she never liked to think about it, who would? But she was and she had to acknowledge it because she had told herself she would never allow herself to be bullied again, and most importantly, she would never turn into a bully. Wrong. She was wrong, and it wasn’t the first time she had been made aware of this since everything happened. Since everything changed. It was a blessing that Nino and her were still together, he never partook in the “tough love” the class had been giving Marinette before she...before she had been akumatized. Sure he didn’t stop them, and that was bad, but he didn’t go out of his way to not invite her to things until she stopped being “jealous” and started acting like the bigger person. Nino wasn’t the one who ignored her text messages, which now that Alya read them, were pretty telling that her friend had been hurting and she had only made that worse.

“What are you thinking about babe?”

Alya looked up from her half eaten bowl of soup to see Nino gazing at her in concern. “Marinette.”

“Oh…” He breathed out as he put his spoon down and looked down at the table before placing one of his hands on hers and giving her a small smile. “Everything will be okay Alya. Someone will find her and then she’ll be back home.”

Empty words. Empty words fed to him too much from adults who didn’t have any updates on anything. “You don’t believe that. And even if she did...who's to say she would even want to talk to us!? What’s to say that anything would be better? We would still be seen as the bad guys! We will still all have to eat lunch at our houses or the park just to avoid the stares and the whispers and the tossed trash our way and the “accidentally” spilled drinks!”

Alya had never understood just how much their class had been living in its own little world. Not to say they were completely unattached to the rest of the school, Alix, Nathaniel, Rose, Chloe, and Sabrina were in the art club (the art teacher and the rest of the club had made a mural of Marinette without notifying them or asking for their help. Everyone is encouraged to leave notes about Marinette on the mural. The art room even has a chair decorated in honor of Marinette that no one else can use. That was announced very pointedly Alix later shared.), Rose was in the scrapbooking club (no one asked to use her materials anymore like they used to), and Max was in the gaming club which Marinette had helped him set up (people weren’t showing up lately.) They weren’t kicked out, but they were reminded of Marinette all the time,it was like everyone’s way of punishing them. It had never occurred to any of them how popular Marinette was.

So popular that the whole school seemed to hate them. Even Mlle Mendeleiev seemed to be harsher than normal and that was really saying something, it would seem like she had a soft spot for Marinette. In their class everyone avoided Marinette’s seats in class, Alya had to step up as class representative but the silver lining was that Nino had stepped up to be her deputy. Though another negative was the fact Nino had stopped making his music and taking DJ gigs. At first he hadn’t said anything to her or their friends, Alya found out because of Chris actually, but then her and Adrien confronted him and he broke down. He cried and he didn’t stop for a long time, but when he had calmed enough to talk he pulled out old pictures of him and Marinette, told them stories about how they had grown up together. It had made the pit in Alya’s stomach grow, she had just been thinking about her and how much she blamed herself and how much she missed her best friend, she hadn’t even thought how this was affecting Nino.

“I...I need to believe it Alya. I need to. Because if I don’t I will break apart. Mari...Marinette and I were best friends in l'école primaire. I never thought she would ever not be a part of my life. Then the whole Lila thing happened and I turned into a coward again, like I had with Chloe! No, worse than a coward! I don’t even know what I would call myself but I know I can’t call myself her friend.” His voice rose the more he spoke and near the end it cracked.

“Nino…”

“No. I know that’s the truth! And I know, I know that things at school have been rough. Hell, they’ve been awful, everyone sees us as these villains in some trashy young teen novel when all we’ve done is make a mistake! Yes. It was a big mistake but it was a mistake nonetheless but we’re...we’re kids dammit. We’re just kids.” Alya felt tears race down her cheeks as she saw her boyfriend break yet again, his cheeks wet with his tears, his voice choked with his guilt.

“I know. I just...I just want her back. I want everything back. I don’t know how many times we have to apologize to the school, but they’re not even the ones that need to hear the apologies! The one we need to have hear us isn’t here and…” Alya could feel herself breaking but she tried to hold on. Nino needed her to be strong. Her class needed her to be strong. Her family needed her to be strong.

“I can’t take the stares! Or, or hear Rose’s cries that she tries to hide from us. Mylene hasn’t been eating and I know she thinks we don’t notice and Adrien, god Adrien. I’m trying to hold it together because my bro is falling apart at the seams! First Marinette gets...gets fucking akumatized, then his dad and Nathalie get taken to the hospital from some supposedly random attack but it’s pretty obvious it was Mar-the akuma’s doing, his mom freaking pops out of nowhere but of course that can’t just be a good thing because everyone has to talk about how his dad and Nathalie were probably Hawkmoth and Mayura! And I’m over here trying not to think too much about all that because it makes actually too much sense, but then we find out that Marinette was most likely Ladybug! LADYBUG!” He lamented, not bothering to hide the fact he was crying, more like sobbing. It just made Alya cry more.

“I...I wanted the truth for so long, but not like this. Not like this. I...I know this makes me sound like the worst person on the planet but I kind of wish stupid Gabriel Agreste wasn’t Hawkmoth because then I could be akumatized and maybe I could be some kind of time-travelling akuma and we could go back and fix everything and school wouldn’t be hell and the twins wouldn’t act like they had to walk on eggshells around me all the time and my dad wouldn’t look like he’s always so disappointed in me and my mom wouldn’t look at my with only pity in her eyes and Nora would talk to me and Marinette would be back!” Alya sobbed out. At this point her and Nino had moved from their seats to the kitchen floor and were huddled together hugging each other for comfort.

The two just sat there soaking up whatever comfort they could and dreaded the time that passed. For each minute that passed, was a minute that brought them closer to having to go back to school. Alya didn’t know if she had the strength to go back and deal with everything, she didn’t know if Nino could handle it either, but she knew her mother would be by any minute to give them a lift back to school. If there was a way she could just finish school online, Alya was willing to do it, but her father wouldn’t ever allow it. He had put his foot down, Otis Césaire was mad, then he was disappointed and he thought it only fair that Alya face her peers and continue on at Françoise Dupont. It didn’t feel fair, it didn’t feel fair at all, it felt like punishment. Hadn’t she been punished enough? Even in sleep she wasn’t safe, all she dreamed of was Lila and her making her act like a puppet. She would see puppet her do all these things to Marinette and she would wake up in sweat and tears.

“Okay I’m here, I hope you two are ready to head ba-” Alya looked up to see her mom standing there staring at her and Nino, her mouth agape. “Oh Alya...Nino...How about I call the school and tell them you’re not feeling good? And I’ll call your parents Nino.”

Alya was going to respond, she really was, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out but a choked off cry and nod. Nino nodded as well as he took in a shaky breath. “Th-Thanks, Mme C.”

“Nino, you know I told you to call me Marlena. Now you two go rest in Alya’s room while I make those calls. Then maybe I can get the rest of the day off and-”

“No manman. Things...things are already bad enough, don’t make it worse by not going back to work. I don’t...I don’t want to be the reason why you get fired.” Alya mumbled as she and Nino got up off the floor.

“Oh...Oh my little one, that won’t happen. And if it did, not because of you. Never. Don’t you think that.” Alya’s mother breathed out as she pulled her daughter into a hug before taking her daughter’s face in her hands and doing her best to wipe her tears.

“Papa and Nora would! Nora still won’t talk to me and Papa only looks at me like he’s disappointed he ever had me!” Alya cried out before she could stop the words from coming out. Her mind completely forgot that Nino was standing right beside her until she felt him hold her hand and give it a squeeze.

“Your Papa is just being stubborn, but you listen to me, he could never ever be disappointed in having you. You are our daughter. You made a mistake yes, but I know you know you made a mistake and that you are sorry. Your Papa will realize that. He just needs time. And Nora...she just needs time too. I just think she doesn’t know how to handle everything and that she’s mad that she couldn’t protect you sweetie. She’s always been the protective older sister, and this was something she couldn’t protect you from herself. They’ll come around. I’m sure.”

“If you’re sure manman…”

“I am. Now you kids go relax. I’m going to take the rest of the day off and go to the store for dinner ingredients, I’ll be back soon. I know things are hard my little Melusine but they won’t always be like this.” With a kiss to her forehead and a swift hug to Nino, Alya’s mom left the two teens in the family apartment.

At first they just stood there in silence and sniffles, but Nino made the move to put their plates in the sink and rinse them out while Alya gathered their schoolwork back into their bookbags. Then they made their way to Alya’s room and kicked off their shoes before sitting on the bed. Nino nudged Alya who looked at him in confusion until she saw him give her a crooked smile and open his arms which she fell easily into. She took off her glasses and placed them on her bedside table while she felt more than saw Nino take off his cap. For a while they just sat there in the quiet of the moment and Alya was content to do just that, to just have a moment of peace, but she slowly pushed away and reached for her remote to turn on the TV and quickly pulled up Netflix. Her mom wanted them to relax so why not fry their brains with some television.

“Anything in particular you want to watch?” She asked as she settled back against Nino.

“As long as it has nothing to do with school or superheroes...I’m good.” Nino responded with a hollow chuckle.

“I’m glad we don’t have to go back too…” She murmured, “Should we...tell the others?”

“Probably. But if I’m being honest I don’t really feel like talking to them and them asking how we are and if we’re okay when they know we’re not. I just. I don’t think I could handle that. Not today.”

“I get it. Sometimes I feel like everyone else even blames me for what happened. Like... Like it was my responsibility to not fall for the lies and to warn them. Like my word would have made a difference! Mari...Marinette’s didn’t so why would mine?” Alya huffed as she scrolled through all the movie and show choices and tried her best not to cry again.

“If they blame you then they need to blame me too and blame the people in the mirror. We all fell for the lies. Sure you’re the budding reporter, but the blame could just as easily be pushed onto Max who is so smart he created a living AI. But we have no one to be mad at but ourselves and we can only do that for so long.” Nino sighed as he held her closer and kissed her temple. Alya relished in the warmth of it all.

“When did you get so wise?” Alya teased softly.

“When I decided to rewatch Star Wars. But no seriously. If anyone in class bothers you please tell me because we should be sticking together not at each other’s throats.” Nino stuck out one hand and Alya slid her hand into his.

“Cross my heart and hope to die. I will. And you’re right, we do need each other, especially now, especially at that school.”

“Especially at that school, yeah.” He laughed out. “We’re going to get through this. I don’t know how, but, we are and we’re going to do it together.”

Alya smiled wryly before she looked up at Nino and it slipped into a real small smile. “Together.” She agreed softly.

Last Chapter Next Chapter

l'école primaire - elementaryschool

manman - Haitian Creole for Mother

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml salt #ml salt fic #alya cesaire #marlena cesaire #etta and ella cesaire #nora cesaire #otis cesaire #nino lahiffe #djwifi #ml class salt #lila rossi salt #akuma class #revolt of the akuma #they are kids and they made a mistake #others need to recognize that as well #goggles commission

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 3 years

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1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for August 2021! Below you’ll find 23 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.

Happy reading!

He Carries The Key by @lululawrence

[Niall/Louis, OT5, 8k, Not Rated, tumblr post]

Niall was mostly home, ready for a shower and a chat with Louis, when suddenly Niall was flooded with emotions from the pack bond.Shock. Surprise. Confusion.But mostly fear.Something was wrong with Louis.

Plus One by mynameispiaivy / @missrefridgefreetorator

[Louis/Luke Malak, 3k, Mature, tumblr post]

Louis is invited to an event and he has to bring a "plus one".

Better Mistakes by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

[Harry/Louis, 117k, Explicit, tumblr post]

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world-”

“Oh but it fucking is,” Louis said, shaking his head. “How the fuck am I going to tell Matt I’m pregnant with a baby when we’ve not had sex in months? He might be a bit thick sometimes, but he is gonna know there’s no chance this baby is his.”

“You don’t have to, uh, tell him it’s mine, right?”

Louis scoffed. “Why, are you scared he’s gonna come and kick the shit out of you?”

“He wishes,” Harry laughed, looking back down at the test. “Shit, I … I can’t believe this. Louis, I didn’t mean for this. Honestly. It was just sex for me. We have great sex, and I didn’t see why I should have to turn that down, not when you clearly wanted it as much as I did. I didn’t want this to end in a baby.”

Louis knows he shouldn’t be sleeping with his boyfriend’s enemy. He knows that. But there’s something that draws him back to Harry over and over again. Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan...

Thou, Sun, Art Half As Happy by @lululawrence

[Louis/Harry/Nick Grimshaw, 7k, Not Rated, tumblr post]

Hello, I’m sorry if this isn’t a post that is allowed on this channel, but I was hoping for the best since it is regarding a photography project I’m working on at the moment. I’m working on a set of sunrise kiss photos and therefore am needing a willing kissing partner. I’d hoped to be able to provide one for myself, but it hasn’t panned out, so here I am! I was hoping to find someone here, since I know most of you (at least peripherally) and can generally vouch for you not being creeps. Plus this way I know you will understand needing to continue to tweak the camera settings and reshoots etc that others might not.

Anyway, I’m looking for someone who identifies as male or male-ish (sorry, ladies) who is between the ages of 18 and 40. I’m a 29 year old male-ish myself, for those who would like to know before replying.

If you’re interested and are free the early morning of August 7th and would like to kiss in the sunrise with me for the sake of some (hopefully) interesting and fun photos, let me know via DM and I’ll give you the location.

OR the one where Louis needs a kissing partner, two show up, and it all might turn out for the best that way.

call my name and save me from the dark by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed / we_are_the_same

[Louis/Harry, 4k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

“I don’t know if it was a nightmare,” he confesses to the ceiling, the darkness making it easier to speak up even when he still has to close his eyes to stop himself from tearing up. “It feels more like a memory. But it can’t be.”

Harry shifts, and Louis can feel his chin perched on his chest, doesn’t need to look at him to know that Harry’s studying him. “Why?” He prompts, when Louis doesn’t immediately continue, and Louis swallows, tries to shrug off the apprehension, the fear that Harry will think that he’s gone mad.

“Because I heard them pronounce me dead.”

Feels like home by @neondiamond

[Louis/Harry, 2k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Louis comes home from work with an exciting surprise. Daydreaming and celebrations ensue.

this is my jam by @disgruntledkittenface

[Harry/Louis, 4k, Mature, tumblr post]

The guy’s eyes are so blue that Harry can’t tear his gaze away, even as he moves to the beat. The searing light shade is magnetic; he finds himself leaning in and yelling, “This is my jam!” only to earn a laugh from thin pink lips that Harry’s definitely going to be dreaming about tonight.

“Your jam?”

When the guy yells back over the music, his blue eyes sparkling and his lips twisted in a smirk, Harry’s chest literally puffs out with pride at earning his attention. His obvious approval. Tongue-tied, Harry nods and closes his eyes as he lets go, the music reverberating around them. All of the usual inhibitions that keep him in the corner at parties fall away and he bounces around the center of the dance floor, waving his arms above his head. Somehow his towel stays on, even as he starts to think he wouldn’t mind if it fell off. Fuck it. He finally made it here, he’s damn well going to enjoy it.

Harry goes to a gay bathhouse for the first time. 90s AU.

I Know My Arithmedick (2 + 2 = 4sum) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

[Harry/Louis + Louis/multiple partners, 3k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Harry wants to watch Louis fuck someone else. Louis loves giving Harry what he wants. It’s simple math, really.

doG…and his friend by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright / yeah_alright

[Louis/Harry, 3k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

When Joan has to move out of her small, nice home and in with a random roommate, she obviously brings her dog/boyfriend, Doug, with her.

Doug makes a friend. And maybe more.

I Heard You Talking by @lululawrence

[Louis/Harry, 10k, Not Rated, tumblr post]

It had been an hour of their noise that Louis had been dealing with, and for some reason the fact that these grown men were being this rowdy in the quiet carriage over a game of Uno was the breaking point for him. He stood up and turned around, making his way down to where the group of five were somehow gathered around a table.

Louis stopped at the table and cleared his throat, mouth open and ready to politely request they keep it down when the man who was sitting with his back to Louis turned.

He was stunningly gorgeous.

Blinking a ridiculous number of times in an attempt to pull himself together, Louis coughed and spit out, “This is the quiet carriage.”

God, he was nearly forty and that was the best he could do in front of a set of pretty, green eyes?

Or the one where Harry is famous and Louis doesn't have a clue. Good thing his son is able to help him out.

All That You Need by @haztobegood

[Louis/Harry, 2k, Explicit, tumblr post]

Pre-heat was always one of Harry’s favorite times to spend with Louis. It was a time to rest up and indulge in extra cuddles, like basking in a ray of sunshine before having to dive off the deep end. Louis lavishes him with tender touches and soft kisses. Harry wants to savor this time as long as possible. The unquenchable need will come later, but for now, his desires are simple. He just needed to be closer to his alpha. As close as possible.

sickly sweet fonding by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[Louis/Harry, 1k, General, tumblr post]

A few members of their crew start piling up the dirty dishes and taking them over to the sink. Harry walks around the cameras, and smiles brightly at Louis.

“What do you think, Lou? Do I have it in the bag?”

Louis eyes a bowl of bright pink lumpy batter being cleaned from Harry’s side. “Of course you do.” He wraps an arm around Harry’s waist and steers him away, all while ignoring the dramatic gagging Niall is doing. He doesn’t think it’s just the batter making Niall gag.

or the one where Louis fonds over Harry's horrible baking skills

Fractured Moonlight by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[Louis/Harry, 1k, Mature, tumblr post]

Louis huffs because he doesn’t want to deal with this. “Listen, I appreciate your concern.” He doesn’t. “But it’s not your duty to look after the sad man at the bar. Okay?”

'Ere comes the milk by stretchmybones / @onlyfor-thegays

[Harry/Louis, 1k, Explicit]

Louis is obsessed with Harry's mommy milkers.

everything comes back to you by stretchmybones / @onlyfor-thegays

[Louis/Harry, 8k, Explicit]

Harry and Louis are childhood best friends. What happens when Harry has to move towns just as they are starting their secondary gender presentations? What happens when fate brings them back together years later in the most unexpected of ways?

He Still Takes My Breath Away by @parmahamlarrie

[Harry/Louis, 32k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Camp Infinity is the perfect place for a lot of things; hiking, swimming, sports, eating, and falling in love. Harry Styles is a bit too familiar with the last one from his years of being a camper. This year things will be different. He’s 21, a grown man now, and ready to see Camp Infinity from a different point of view; working as a lifeguard. However, his whole summer turns upside down when a familiar British lad makes his return into Harry's life.Or the one where Harry is a lifeguard and Louis is the head of recreation. And, sometimes, you just need a little push to realize what was right in front of you the whole time.

Also known as – The Summer Camp Fic

tread lightly on my ground by fairytalelights / @lookslikefairytale

[Louis/Harry, 20k, Explicit, tumblr post]

No, that's the tragic part of this, the part that makes Harry feel like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him. The father of his baby is exactly right, exactly who he always imagined himself having kids with. He just imagined them married, bonded. Happy. He didn't imagine them barely talking, tip-toeing around each other because neither of them is brave enough to talk about what happened between them. He didn't imagine the father of his child not loving him back.

or, the one where Harry is having Louis' baby, but Louis doesn't know it's his.

Getting a Head for Heights by @ladyaj-13 / LadyAJ_13

[Louis/Greg James, 3k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

The problem is, Louis thinks Greg would be quite good to date, so it would really help if everyone would stop reminding him of that fact so he could unthink it. He’d be a gentleman, at least until Louis talked him out of it, and he’s funny and nice and hot and they’re both into music and football and drama. He’s also a freakish giant of a human, and the problem with dating is that sooner or later you have to stand next to each other.

We Go Together (series) by @beelou / cherrylarry

[Louis/Harry, 3k, General, tumblr post]

A grease au

Hot Boy Summer (series) by @louisandtheaquarian / zita17

[Harry/Louis, 35k, Teen & Up, tumblr post]

Louis is an overworked bartender hoping to save up enough extra tips to buy a new air conditioner before he literally melts during a scorching NYC heat wave. Harry is the new neighbor that wakes him up by moving in his sole day off at 6am. An NYC enemies to neighbors to lovers AU featuring a rickety fire escape, the 2021 Euros, Lirry bickering like a divorced couple, and enough OT5 clichés to rot your teeth. (If Harry's pastries don't get them first.)

across the river is where my heart is by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 8k, General, tumblr post]

The first time they see each other is when they are toddlers, playing out in the yard. Louis remembers sitting on the perfectly trimmed lawn and getting yelled at for picking at the soft blades of grass; she remembers looking over, across the narrow but deep and wild river, and watching another little girl, out in a different garden, picking flowers for her mother.

She remembers carefully raising her hand and waving—her little heart beating hard in her chest, as if she had done something dangerous, something forbidden, even though back then she could not understand the true divide the River made amongst them.

bright eyes, blue denim by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Louis/Harry, 2k, General, tumblr post]

Louis' favourite jeans have suddenly disappeared from where he always got them. Harry is a store manager with an affinity for customer care, particularly when the customer has bright blue eyes and happens to be very flirty.

whatever you feel like doing in this moment by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

[Harry/Louis, 2k, General, tumblr post]

Louis gets all that he's ever wanted during his favourite game at their group's weekly improv show.

#28th appreciation #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #1dsource #one direction fan fic

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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

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The one where it turns sweeter (part2)

TW: smut

So... this is my first time writing smut. I just hope that I did the piece justice and that you’ll like it. Tell me if that’s something you’d want more or also if you have any feedback/criticism/idea/request, I would love to hear your lovely thoughts. Please don’t be shy xx

Part 1

"Just shut up and come kiss your dork."

Y/n certainly doesn’t need more incentive to comply; the sweet taste of his lips seeping through hers is plenty enough as it is. Her mind is a nerve-ending away from losing any semblance of a grasp on reality. This feels too much like a dream: fuzzy mind, sensitive skin and a desperate plea not to be awakened yet.

Except, all her senses are on overdrive, buzzing with more fervency with every new inch of her that Harry explores. And no matter how dreamlike it all seem, the thrills are much too intense to be sleep-induced and the details much too accurate to be conjured up by a deceiving mind. The way chills spiral up her spine as they follow the roaming of his hands underneath her shirt; the way her skin erupts in tiny goose bumps where his lips leave wet spots after careful ministrations. Starting at the corner of her month, as if reluctant to retire from their twin set, all across her left cheek to finally tease the area right below her ear and mischievously graze his teeth around the earlobe.

Definitely real.

"Fuck. I’ve been wai’in." He almost whimpers the extent of his relief, the rasp of his voice triggering a new wave of shivers across y/n’s straddling body. "Been waiting so long, love."

"No more waiting now." She quickly answers with a pointed shake of her head.

Her hands also have a mind of their own, not wasting a second more to finally tread the land that had been forbidden to her until tonight. Now his neck was hers to scratch and his wondrous locks hers to grasp and to pull in taunting fashion. Now the grunts coming out of his mouth still tending to her ear, were hers to revel in and to swallow in a searing kiss. Now she was his to hold, to touch and to undo like the final tug to a bow on a wrapped present. Now the pleasure was theirs to share.

"Off, take it off" Y/n breathlessly inquires after pausing their kiss long enough to voice her request. Her fingers have already made their way to the bottom of Harry’s jumper, slipping underneath the heavy material only to be met by more fabric. She pouts as she realizes there was more work than expected, but as soon as the first layer has been discarded and she takes in his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, the disappointment melts right off her lips. Her hands cups at his face as she bits a growing smile and her eyes dive into the green gems already focused on her. "Flustered, are we?" She teases before rearranging his hair back in one brushing gesture and sealing their lips back together.

"Mhm, got me all hot an’ bothered, darlin’" he quips back as he rids her of her top, successfully leaving her in a simple black laced bra. Damn, she didn’t have the same multi-layer luxury he had apparently. The special endearment is also not lost on her, its appearance quite new between them, but in retrospect it can just be added to the list of ‘new’ things their relationship now entails.

Harry takes in the sight of her exposed cleavage, one hand swiping the strings of hair still resting upon her right collarbone, before finally dropping kisses down her neck and across the top of her breasts. One soft grip at her waist, his other hand crawls back to press against the area between her shoulder blades in a desperate attempt to get her that bit closer than she ever was.

"You’ve got one more." Y/n reminds him, her head slightly tilted upward as to avoid a mouthful of Harry’s mane. At her words, he slowly leans back to take in her own flustered state.

"This not enough fo’ you?" He asks knowing full well she was just as antsy for skin-to-skin contact as he was.

"Not even close" she proudly responds while taking the matter into her own hands. In a swift and not too clumsy motion, she’s got his undershirt in a bowl that she hastily throws behind them.

"Better?" He smirks at her.

"Halfway there" is all she retorts and goes back for a much needed kiss, hands finally embracing the smooth expanse of his bare back. She can feel his own smile spreading so wide he can barely follow the kiss’ dynamic. "What?" She finally asks him in suspicious banter, keeping her face an inch away from him, a finger swiping across the corner of his bottom lip.

"Nothin’" He murmurs along her jaw, before elaborating. "Just…livin’ on a prayer."

Y/n can’t help but laugh at the Bon Jovi reference, the moment is so Harry-like. A few words were always enough to make random songs pop into his head, and then the temptation is too hard for him to pass up the opportunity to make a pun about it. That’s just how he’s brain works and y/n has always loved this quirk of his. He is a music enthusiast after all, and the passion he’s derived from is what made him such a force to be reckoned with, so really, y/n doesn’t mind.

"Care to clue me in on that prayer of yours?" She says instead, before she suggestively takes a bite of his lip. The statement earns her a chuckle as Harry goes back to flowering her neck his tender pecks.

"Don’t worry darlin’, you’ll be singing them in no time." He chirps back seductively, bringing his hands to grasp at y/n thighs still straddling his lap. Then in one swoop, he lifts her and lowers her back until she’s laying on the ground. Quickly his tattooed torso follows suit as he comes resting above her figure and reunites their lips in an unprecedentedly passionate kiss.

This time around, y/n’s hand concentrate on the inked work adorning his front, fingers tracing each of the artist’s lines. It mesmerizes her how the art seems to be such an intrinsic element of his skin now. Like all the graphics and doodles had been embedding the tissue since birth. Swallows flying across is chest as he learnt how to walk; laurels flourishing along his pelvis as he became less boy and more man; butterfly metamorphosing some every day he grew closer into the amazing being he is now.

So y/n may have lost it a little, but in her defense, Harry has always been her weakness and now he’s kissing his way down her chest and playfully nipping at her belly button…so she’s officially relinquished any sovereignty she may have once possessed over her body. Harry softly pecks the palm of her hand when she brings it to his cheek, her gaze already clouded in euphoria. After sharing a knowing look like two accomplices on the brink of mischief, he mutters a soft "can I?" as his fingers tease at the waistband of her jeans.

A hazy ‘please’ is all he needs to work her zipper down and button off, all the whilst sporting a smug corner smile. The task gets a bit more tedious when it comes to peeling the fabric from her legs but it’s not Harry’s first skintight jeans’ rodeo. Plus, the sight he is privy to once they’ve joined his long forgotten undershirt and jumper somewhere behind the couch, is quite unparalleled in comparison. Smooth legs that take his head for a spin with how elegant yet how strong they look; cotton panties, still matching in color, covering wonders he has yet to experienced; so much flesh and skin ready for the taking and calling out for his touch.

A soft groan escapes him as he lowers himself back to place a wantsome kiss on her timid smile. "Fuck, look a’ you, love." More kisses. "So pretty…so delicious." He utters against her throat, nose tenderly rubbing against the skin.

His lips retell the same stories as they travel down y/n’s body once again, this time making a longer halt as they gloss over her breast, blindingly enclosing themselves around y/n’s nipple though the garment’s lace. She swears she can feel him smiling against her boob as the small bud hardens from pleasure, and when he adds in a quick graze of his teeth once he’s satisfied with his work, y/n’s hand flies out to the one making its way up to her other nipple.

The gesture isn’t meant as a restraint so much as an encouragement which Harry happily embraces. His thumb starts circling the areola in a slow and teasing manner, every now and then applying increasing pressure in its center. Y/n’s hand is still wrapped around his wrist, as if afraid he would suddenly stop, while the other slides down his back to squeeze at his bum.

"Touch me" she breathes out.

"I am."

"Touch me more." Her insisting words have him lift his head from her skin to process her demand: at this point, his mind might be fuzzier than hers.

"My girl wants somethin’ more? Just have to ask, darlin, I’ll give it straight t’you."

His hand starts moving underneath hers, and once she’s pleased with the path it’s taking, she lets go of it. Just as her hand settles back on his shoulder, her fingers dig in the flesh in retaliation to the dragging caress Harry is delivering underneath her panties. He is being awfully slow at it, collecting wetness all around and bringing it back to slick up her neglected clit. He has readjusted his body back to her level, not wanting to miss the slightest manifestation of her pleasure on her face.

As his movements around the bud speed up, her legs fidget more and more in between his, until the pressure starts building strong in her lower belly and her mind is once again pleading to get him closer to her. Untangling their lower limbs to wrap hers around his waist, his response comes in a feverish kiss and his ministrations moving from her tingly clit to her wet opening. They resume their circling motion, index teasing its way in but never quite making an entrance; the patience game he seems to be playing not to y/n’s liking as she groans against his lips.

"Flustered, are we?" He has the audacity to use her own words against her but somehow it turns her on even more. Makes her all the more curious to discover just how sassy he can be when he’s got her in a puddle at his fingers. Quite literally.

"Don’t be mean." Y/n pouts before laying open mouth kisses along his neck. Maybe that’ll motivate him.

"Sorry, love. You’re just so drippy down there, it’s driving me crazy. Is it all fo’ me?" He kisses her forehead in a vain attempt to make up for all the riling up he’s doing.

He forgets he can be as easily riled up though, when y/n susurrate at his ear "You know it is."

The admittance has him pushing his hips against her, effectively pressing his fingers harder on her pussy. They both moan in unison at the friction, heightened pleasure coursing through their bloodstream, saturating their veins. It’s then they realize there’s so much more to come, like the moment ticked something off in their brains, and now they can’t get naked fast enough. Frantic hands pulling at the remaining clothing articles left of their bodies while their lips are caught in an equally raging war. A war they’re battling on the same side as they fight for the same thing: intimacy, passion, closeness.

Once they’re both left bare to the other’s eyes, they take a second to revel in the moment. It took all the patience and abnegation in the world to get them to this point. Days of yearning stifled in silent admonition and nights of supposedly wishful thinking that left them wanting more at every new sunrise. So much anguish turned into so much elation as the truth prevailed though. That’s a lot pleasure warranted to make up for lost time.

"Been dyin’ to taste you, darlin’. What d’ya say?" He asks in between kisses. Their naked bodies are so untangled they can’t tell beginning from end, but Harry is all too willing to unweave himself form y/n’s loving limbs if it means he gets to have her on his tastebuds. And apparently so is she, if the high-pitched ‘please’ breathing past her lips is any indication.

The smugness returns on his face as he once again undertakes the delightful descent to her sensitivity. There is no material stopping him this time though, just more skin begging to be brought to life. And when his lips finally surf across her mound, the goose pumps blooming in their wake just prove him right. Her breathy noises only spur him on, tongue finally taking a long swipe across her lips, like a secret weapon kept under wrap for the most opportune time.

Y/n’s hands are quick to grab onto something, and the absence of linens underneath her only hastens her reach for him: one hand buried deep in his headful of curls, the other resting on his own hand at her hip. She feels his thumb rubbing soothingly at her skin there and she loves how tender he can be, even while simultaneously devouring her in greedy licks. The contrast as her vision blurring and no matter how much she wants to watch him have the meal of his life, her body is too riddled by pleasure to keep herself focused enough.

The feeling only keeps intensifying as Harry properly delves into her, tongue first, his other hand eventually coming to hold her thigh down as it keeps clamping back shut at every new wave of ecstasy rushing over her. "So good, Harry. Feels so good." She keeps chanting in delirium, and Harry’s own excitement is starting to grow unbearable. There’s no way he can’t let go of her to relieve himself for a second though, he’ll just have to wait for her unravelling.

"Taste so sweet, love. Come on, please cum fo’ me. Need it real bad." He pleads for her undoing as though Time was about to rip her away from him before he got to properly have her.

Deciding the moment calls for a change in tactic, he brings two fingers to her wet hole and swiftly slides them inside of her. Rejoicing when he is met with no resistance, he quickly brings his lips back to her sensitive bud, alternating between hard sucks and pacifying licks.

It doesn’t take much longer for the knot inside of her to come undone and her orgasm to take over every parcel and every atom of her. And Harry can’t get enough. She’s everywhere: all around his tongue as he keeps fucking into her in earnest strokes; up to his nose while the angle has him brushing against her clit; down his ears with songs of uncontrollable bliss; underneath his hands as he can feel every spasms seizing her body.

He tends to her sensitivity until she’s too overwhelmed to bear it, and complies when she gives a small tug at his hair. Their lips immediately find each other even though they were both rendered breathless by y/n’s climax. She can taste it on his lips so vividly, it makes her moan at how utterly crazy he’d gone at it. She tenderly swipes away the wetness on his chin while their tongues waltz together, and brings him closer to her with a koala move. Soon they are both made acutely aware of Harry’s excitement as his hard member is trapped between their heated bodies.

"You’re incredible." Y/n finally voices with a look of unadulterated love and pure wonder. Her smile only emphasizes her confession and Harry’s heart swells so hard, he wonders if the butterfly on his stomach feels it too. He mirrors her beam with one of his own before lowering his forehead against hers. His muscles are starting to feel sore from the tension that has yet to be liberating from his body, and it takes all he’s got, not to drop the support his arms provide as they lay on each side of y/n’s face.

"Got me so hard, love. Feels like imma bout to explode." He admits while sliding his cock back and forth along her sweetness. He feels like a ticking bomb, winded so tight from years of nerve-wracking suspense, that have never felt more like foreplay than right at this moment, as y/n reaches out to him. Her hand confidently wraps around his shaft to deliver long strokes that have him shudder in pleasure.

"Gonna do something about it?" She murmurs tauntingly at him.

"Mhm" is all he can respond before taking her hand from his cock and holding it down above her head in an interlocking grip. Taking a hold of his hard member, he then proceeds to gently tap her clit with his sensitive tip, in retribution for a teasing behavior. "Do we need a rubber?" He remembers to ask in between her moans.

"Not on my account." She answers truthfully, and Harry exults in knowing there will be nothing but warm smooth walls enveloping his dick once he finally has her.

"Yeah? Gonna let me just slide in? Take me all the way an’ keep me there forever?" The words have a clear purpose to wind her up further, but Harry thinks he might have screwed himself over with that one, as he finds himself equally aroused at the idea. Precome is already leaking from his reddened and swollen tip, only adding to the mess they’ve made together.

She answers him with a gentle kiss and her free hand comes to hold his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek in light motion. Their lips part for a shaky breath as Harry slowly pushes himself inside of her. They both sigh when his hips meet hers, every tensed molecule in their body uncoiling at the delicious friction.

As he starts rocking into her, Harry’s hand grabs at y/n’s thigh to keep it close around hip. His other hand is still interweaved with hers by her head and he doesn’t think he’ll ever let got of it.

He’s movement starts to speed up, as the pleasure becomes stronger and the change in pace has y/n arching into him. He takes the opportunity to slide his hand up her back, when his fingers come in contact with a tiny item on the floor. In confusion, he takes it out from under her, and brings it up between them. Puzzled faces relax in recognition as they take in a square shape piece of their long forgotten game, the letter G carefully painted on its surface.

"Guess I found it, huh." He jokes before tossing the piece away, and they both burst in laughter at the silly pun, Harry’s face buried in her chest. How can one have still so much wit even when balls deep in their secret-not-so-secret-anymore crush for the first time? Y/n loves it, though. It makes all the rapture even more delectable to know the one giving it to her is the same old Harry who almost gave her a heart attack once from how hard she was laughing.

Laughters quickly merge into gasps of pleasure at the pressure of y/n’s walls tightening around Harry’s cock. Just like that, the playful interlude is over, letting lust conquer all. Powerful thrusts resume their pounding motion as y/n once again dissolves into colorful moans, and Harry takes his hand back up her spine until he’s holding onto the back of her neck. Kisses are trailed down her throat as he tilts her head slightly to the side. "Squeezin’ me so hard, love. Must be doin’ somethin’ right," He says against her skin, as he pounds into her. He can feel her walls clenching again, body twitching around him and he knows she’s close to her peak.

Removing his hand from underneath her, all the whilst not relenting from his earnest fucking, he brings two fingers to her lips, caressing the soft flesh before dipping past them. "Come on darlin’, make ‘em wet for me." He commands and the mere word have her throbbing from anticipation. Obediently, she accepts the digits in her month and starts wrapping her tongue around them like she would his cock. As she indulges in a soft suction, Harry’s hips snap even harder, making her wheeze in response.

Fingers free from the confine of her warm mouth, he fits them down where their body meet and starts rubbing at her clit. "About to cum, aren’t you? Can feel it too, you know," he starts rambling to distract him from his own impending climax, "Gonna give it to me good, yeah? Wanna feel it all around, makin’ a mess o’ me, alright?"

"Yes, Harry. ‘M so close," y/n answers before giving a sharp tug at his hair, "fuck me harder, please." It takes all his might not to nut right then and there, but the prospect of sharing the sweetest high of all with her, gives him enough resolve to hold back. Instead, he endeavors to make good on her request by delivering hard and vigorous thrusts that has her bucking against him. Wet noises start feeling the space around them, arousal coating their joined bits as well as Harry’s busy fingers. "That’s it, that’s it, almost there" he keeps muttering like prayers whispered to the Almighty. And it seems like the heavens are responsive tonight as a couple of hard calculated shoves is all it takes for y/n’s orgasm to rupture and send her spiraling.

"Harry," his name on her lips at this very moment might just be the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. "Feels so good." Bliss and ecstasy are written all over her face, and the visual coupled with the sensation of her pussy still hugging tight onto his shaft, send him to a euphoric release of his own. Goose pumps pave their way across his skin as he gives a few more rolls of his hips to accompany the ribbons of cum spurting out of his cock. Y/n’s name is the only thought consuming his hazy mind, the only sound leaving his mouth against the tender skin of her throat where he’s buried his face. Slowly he then removes himself from her - not without a whine at the newfound emptiness greeting them both - and plops down by her side.

The living room is filled with an eery silence for a minute, as both y/n and Harry process everything that just transpired and give their body and chance to recuperate. Their sides are still touching, sticky from sweat, their breathing slowly regulating back to an even level. Harry carefully slides his hand into hers and they both share a look of affection.

"That was amazing." Y/n breaks the silence first in a hushed voice, and her confession makes Harry smile in pride.

"Fuck, com ’ere." He says although he’s the one lifting himself up on one elbow to give her a languid kiss. As he settles next to her, yet another Scrabble piece makes an appearance, this time stuck to the skin on the side of his shoulder before it falls off in a soft thud on the floor. He must have laid down on it in post-orgasmic bliss and the sweat made it stick there for a second.

Y/n picks it back up with a beaming smile as she inspect the little token. "Damn, for once I was actually kicking your ass at Scrabble. Kinda screwed myself over, didn’t I." She laughs at how she’d been so intent on winning the game, yet had been the one to throw the game board along with caution to the wind.

"Actually love, I believe I was the one you screwed." Harry playfully retort, earning him a small slap to the stomach. The gesture only makes him laugh some more as he engulfs her in a crushing embrace.

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #fluff #harry fluff #reader insert #harry styles fic #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfic #creative writing

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