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puppyspiral · 10 months

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recoil

carmen berzatto x f!reader smut

summary: he pushes you too hard. you push back

etc: nsfw, fingering, piv sex, carmy kind of being a dick sorry.... but then hes nice

a/n: haii this is an excerpt from a long fic i'm writing i just really wanted to write smut abt carmen first LMFAO it's like the reader is his roommate due to situations umm

word count: 1677

“Again, Chef,” Carmen was right behind you, watching you chop carrots on the cutting board in your apartment. You were now finding it redundant that you had asked him to call you “Chef” when he was teaching you how to cook.

“Jesus, Carmy,” You sighed exasperatedly, pushing your already sliced coins away and readying a new vegetable.

He hummed a little, “I said ‘again.’” His voice was low in your ear and your knife almost slipped in your palm. You continued to steadily slice at the vegetable until his voice was sharp in your ear again. “It’s still not good enough. You have to go faster.”

You groaned, loudly, tired of him. “Carmy! It’s, like, twelve-thirty! I want to go to fucking bed!”

He took the knife from you, giving you what could only be categorized as a glare. He took a place next to you, rather than behind you, and quickly chopped the carrot into thin coins, faster than you could ever imagine to do. “Yeah? There. Go to sleep, try again in the morning.” There was a bite to his words.

“Carmen,” You replied, grabbing his wrist.

“What?” He snapped and you pulled him into a kiss.

He was surprised, obviously, but he dropped the knife onto the counter and pressed the brunt of his body weight into you. “Fuck,” You groaned against his lips and he growled against yours.

“Shut up,” He replied, picking you up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist and he could walk into his bedroom.

You didn’t venture into Carmen’s room. Ever. It smelled overwhelmingly like him, like earth and his method soap. His room was neat and messy at the same time, with clothes strewn across a chair he had, but his bed was made neatly, sheets tucked under the mattress.

He dropped you onto the mattress, ensuring you were fully settled into the middle of his bed. He crawled over you, kissing you again, his lips playing sloppily on yours.

“Carmy,” You managed to moan out between kisses.

He also moaned your name and it sounded sweet, like he had been waiting for this. He pulled off his shirt, and you would’ve thought it was a shame because of how the shirt hugged his biceps, but seeing the muscles underneath the shirt was way better.

“Shit, Carm, didn’t know you were fuckin’ ripped,” You said, pressing your hands into his shoulders and then letting them travel down his torso.

He laughed a little, “I like to keep it tight.”

You joined him in a small chuckle, “Don’t ever say that again.”

“My bad,” He replied, leaning down and kissing your neck. You groaned a little as his kisses turned into soft bites, leaving marks on your neck. Yep, definitely wearing a turtleneck into work tomorrow.

He helped you pull your shirt off, molding his hands to your breasts and massaging them. He dipped down, kissing your collarbone and then scraping his teeth over it. He brought his hand down, rubbing you through your shorts. If he were to be feeling you over your underwear, you were sure he would feel the fact that you were soaked through, all because of a little kissing.

You locked your fingers together on the back of his neck, bringing him down to kiss you some more because you had barely begun to kiss him and you were already missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Is this okay? I can do this, right?” He murmured into your ear, hand still rubbing small circles over your clothed heat.

“Yes,” You breathed out, squirming against his hand.

He swallowed as if regaining self-control. “Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, “Really?”

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to,” He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“Fine. I want you to hurry up and put your dick in me. I’ve waited long enough.”

His eyes widened in surprise and he blinked momentarily. “Condom,” He said quickly, as if realizing the gravity of the situation.

“Carmen, no. I’ve wanted this for god knows how long, and I’m on birth control. Fuck me raw.” He dropped his head, groaning.

“Okay, fuck, okay. Raw.” He said the word as if it were something new to him.

He wasted little time taking his pants off and you saw the thick outline of his cock through his boxers. Carmen curled his fingers into your shorts and underwear, pulling them down. He wet his lips at the sight of your dripping pussy and pushed his hand through his hair. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“Shut up,” You replied, face flushing.

“No, no, it’s good. It’s cute,” He said, curving the shape of his hand to fit your cunt. You throbbed against his palm and he chuckled a little. “You’re eager for this, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, digging fingernails into his shoulders. “Shut the hell up.”

“Mm-mm,” He replied, one of his fingers pushing carefully into you. You let out a soft noise as just that one finger stretched you out. He had thick fingers, you realized. You had always been semi-aware of it, but this really went to show it.

“Carmy,” You groaned, digging your nails into him a little harder.

He sunk another finger into you and you let a wanton moan escape you, hands making fists in the sheets.

His fingers spread apart inside of you and you could’ve sworn you were seeing stars. “Carmy,” You moaned, again, his name was the only word your mind could come up with.

“Shh, you’re taking it so well,” He murmured and you nodded.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at almost an agonizing pace, each movement somehow finding some different spot inside of you and drawing out noises you didn’t even know you could make.

He pulled his fingers out of you when he seemed to be satisfied with how undone he had made you.

He wrapped his hands around your waist as best as he could, lifting your hips up ever so slightly. You kept your position, trembling, as he pulled his boxers down. “Shit,” You sighed softly, realizing that this was, in fact, happening.

“You okay?” He asked, dragging his thumb over your cheek.

You nodded and then swallowed. “It’s not every day someone gets a chance to fuck their childhood crush.”

“It could be,” He said with a small smirk that brought a flush to your already heated cheeks.

“Oh, shut up,” You huffed out, spreading your legs as if inviting him in.

He chuckled, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He positioned the head of his cock with your entrance and you let out a large and shuddering gasp as he pushed inside of you. A groan escaped him as his cock was swallowed by the warmth of your cunt.

There was the smallest hint of pain as his cock stretched you out and he intertwined his fingers with yours, kissing every small inch of skin he could to comfort you.

He began to pull out and you already missed the way he filled you. He rolled his hips back into you, slowly and carefully. You leaned your head back into the pillow, biting on your lip as a pleased whine bubbled over your lips.

“Is that okay?” He asked gently, continuing the soft push and pull of his hips.

“Yes,” You gasped, finally getting used to the feeling of him inside of you.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” He whispered, leaning down and kissing your neck softly.

You nodded in agreeance and this time he kissed your lips as he moved his hips. His hips sped up their pace and he set a fast rhythm, snapping his hips in and out of you.

You let loud moans leave your lips, your nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders and back. “Carmen,” You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his torso. No way in hell were you letting him go.

“No, you’re taking me so well, good girl,” He murmured into your ear, nipping at the slope of your neck.

The praise made you gasp and you pulled him down for another kiss and it was heated and messy. He groaned into your mouth as you tightened around him and you bit down on his lip as his hand traveled down to play with your clit. “Stop,” You breathed out, even if you didn’t want him to.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” He asked with a chuckle.

You pouted. “Obviously not.”

His movements had momentarily stilled and he suddenly snapped his hips into you. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth to stop the loud yelp that came from you from being too loud.

He smiled, obviously pleased at your reaction. His pace became a little erratic as you tightened around him again. “Jesus, Carmy, I’m so close,” You breathed out.

“Mhm, me too, baby, me too,” He said softly, carding fingers through your hair and murmuring other sweet nothings into your ears.

Heat spread under your skin as you realized how close you were to your climax. “Gonna cum, ah, ‘m so close,” You groaned, hands going up and pushing into his hair. You tugged at the ringlets as soft, pleased noises left your lips.

“That’s right, baby, go ahead and cum on my cock,” He said, nipping at your neck.

With one more thrust of his cock, you came undone. You threw your head back in pleasure and moaned, your walls fluttering around his length as you rode out your orgasm.

Carmen gasped a little, pulling out of you quickly, his come spilling out onto your stomach.

“You’re good, you’re so fucking good,” He whispered, capturing your lips in a kiss, his hands cupping the sides of your face.

You laughed a little as he kissed you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

A little more kissing, a little more touching, and you were falling asleep in his arms.

#my writing #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader smut #the bear #the bear x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x sydney #smut #x reader #carmen berzatto smut

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bythepen98 · 1 year

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N/ purely self-indulgent hhh, plus I always wanted to do something like this when I read a good fic. First attempt at making a webcomic.

Based on @rayshippouuchiha's ShikaNaru fic "The Brightest Flame (The Darkest Shadow)" :D

Rated: M

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Genderfluid Character, Yandere Shikamaru Nara, Smitten Shikamaru Nara, Naruto with Tsunade's Strength, Love At first Chakra Enhanced Strike,.... etc.

Chapters (so far): 2/?

Summary:

Shikamaru’s never felt chakra so vibrant and warm before.

The log that Naruto’s been punching shatters clean apart, reduced to little more than splinters under the devastating force of his chakra enhanced blow.

Shocked and more than a bit startled, Shikamaru wheezes loudly, the sound carrying across the clearing and causing Naruto to abruptly turn and look in his direction.

And in that single moment Shikamaru is lost.

[excerpt]

...because Shikamaru is a Nara to the core, is the strongest they've seen in generations, and the Nara have always been a clan of Shadows after all.

and what does the shadow crave more than the light?

Naruto, with his ocean blue eyes and his golden hair swaying in the breeze his attack had created, shines as bright as the sun itself.

And Shikamaru intends to have him.

(edit: forgot to add this)

..."so much for that quiet wife and two ordinary kids idea."

"Time for a new plan." Because, really, there's no way life with Naruto is going to be any form of quiet or normal.

....Shikamaru's entire life plan has to be thrown out the window and then redrawn from scratch.

Either way Shikamaru's not actually all that upset about his entire life being thrown into an abrupt upheaval.

After all, convincing Naruto to marry him as soon as possible will be well worth the effort.

Naruto's pretty sure this is the closest they've ever actually been to one another outside of the few times they've been paired up to spar in class.

"What're you doing after this?" Shikamaru asks, one hand coming out of his pocket to reach out and play idly with the dangling sleeve of Naruto's kimono.

"After training?" Naruto keeps one eye on Shikamaru's hand...

"More like for the rest of your life," Shikamaru says. "But sure, we can start with training."

Naruto blinks.

.....[Naruto's] not really sure what, exactly, is happening here but he thinks this might mean Shikamaru wants to be his friend now.

Ah my sweet summer child.

Not an exact play by play of what was written in the fic, only the gist I guess and the moment that rly stuck in my head and got me giggling in my pillow.

My love for the "oblivious pure(?) mc and their darker, possessive s/o" trope has struck again. Couldn't've stopped myself from finishing this even when sleep-deprived, which I currently am right now. Had fun challenging myself with this too and might attempt it again with a future chapter or other works depending on my schedule. I'm occupied with studying this month so making something time extensive like this won't happen for awhile yet.

Excitedly waiting for updates :D

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furst1ded · 1 month

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Thoughts on Shipping Alastor from an AroAce person

(this entire thing is copy and pasted excerpts from a Discord rant so if the grammar is funky, that's why, I just felt like giving my 2 cents on the topic)

Aroace people can still participate in romantic and sexual interactions. All being aro/ace/aroace means is you don't feel romantic/sexual attraction upon seeing other people. You can feel it later on or in waves or could never feel that attraction but still can participate and love others in a fulfilling way. Some aroace people are fine performing intimacy onto others but dislike reciprocation, others are the opposite where they're fine receiving but not giving. It's a spectrum.

The nuances of asexuality and aromanticism aside, you can be in a relationship without being in a relationship. Platonic relationships beyond friendship are a thing (QPRs for example). But like, I get it. Not everyone who ships Alastor keeps it confined to a QPR. And his character seems pretty sex-repulsed and romance-averse. But here's the other thing. He's fictional. As long as his character remains aroace in canon, fans taking the silly radio man and making him kiss the devil isn't taking away from aroace representation.

This next bit is coming from me as an AroAce person myself. I ship Alastor. I write/read him kissing people and fucking and acting romantic. And guess what? It's related to expressing my sexuality. Alastor is one of my favorite characters in anything ever and I love that there's a character that represents a facet of myself in a popular media. I relate to him so goddamn much and that's why I ship him. He's a fictional character I like that I project onto, so I use him as a way to navigate and explore romantic/sexual relationships that I'm never going to participate in myself. He's not real so I just puppet him around to live through vicariously in the scenarios I don't want to be a part of myself but find super interesting. It's not anything new, I do the same with my own characters in the stories I write them in, it's part of storytelling, I just use him for a specific type of story for a specfic part of myself.

It's not like we're hurting anybody by shipping him. We're not drastically effecting canon and making him an alloromantic. I've seen plenty of fics that ship him that either make it a QPR or they thoroughly explore the nuances of his asexuality and what subtype of sexuality he is and how he navigates it and I love those fics because they speak to me on a spiritual level. Grayromantic Alastor, demisexual alastor, sex-repulsed but romance-favorable Alastor, sex-repulsed and romance-averse Alastor in a one-sided ship fic, etc they're all so important to me because it helps me live out my own sexuality and romantic orientation and explore myself.

I get it. Not everyone is respectful. Not everyone feels the way I do and use characters in this way. It can suck seeing people just ignore his sexuality when asexuals and aromantics don't get much in terms of screen-time. But you can't control everybody and what work they put out. And trying to censor stuff like that does more harm than good. I just explained why fics involving Alastor are so important to me. They normalize QPRs and aroaces being in relationships. That's probably what pisses me off the fucking most. If we're not allowed to write about aroaces being in relationships or romantic/sexual situations, you put aroaces into a box. A box where every aroace is perceived as sexless and loveless, which just isn't true. A box where aroaces are prudes or infants who can't handle hearing the word "sex". It's just so frustrating. You can be mad at fics that expressly rewrite or stomp on his sexuality, sure. You can't stop them, but you can disapprove of them. But let the rest of us have our fun making the literal devil and TV head man have the hots for a man whose teeth are yellower than the sun, Jesus Christ.

TL;DR: asexuality is a spectrum, I'm aroace and use shipping as a way to explore and express myself and I know I'm not the only one, trying to suppress works where an Aroace character is seen participating in romance or sex can actually be harmful in that it promotes only one idea of what being aroace is, and at the end of the day the character I'm talking about doesn't even exist.

#sorry to flood the aro and ace tags with more hazbin stuff but I feel like what I said can be important to the community outside of hazbin #asexual representation #asexual #aromantic #aromantic asexual #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #radioapple #radiosilence #radiostatic #one sided radiostatic

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sjweminem · 3 months

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Baby Academy Hoffman & Professor Strahm (ft. FTM hoffman ❤️) fic FINISHED

18+!!!! 🔞🔞🔞

short excerpt to (hopefully..) pique some interest:

original inspo: this ask

(DISCLAIMER: i am skilled mainly in technical/academic/speech writing and haven't written a fic in like 14 years so please be gentle 😭)

admittedly he was distracted. as usual. mark tolerated most classes in the academy as obligatory lessons to endure in order to, some day, achieve his dream of working in homicide, but for now he was stuck with all the other twenty-somethings learning the basics of police work, seemingly over and over again. well. at least he had something to keep his mind occupied during this lesson in particular. however repetitive the coursework may be, mark couldn't deny the eager anticipation he felt upon entering professor strahm's lecture.

mark could watch those hands for hours, even at the expense of learning whatever new information might unexpectedly, miraculously, be introduced in yet another of his many repetitive classes. he followed those hands- his instructor was one for dramatic gesticulations- and willed himself not to imagine how they might feel on his body. willing, however, not necessarily implying success. no, mark still, despite his best efforts, frequently stared until his imagination led to thoughts of those strong-looking palms at his throat, gripping his thighs, perhaps tracing his lips with a rough finger before shoving the others into his mouth.

suddenly the bell rang, indicating the lecture's end, and, once again, mark realized his complete failure to pay attention or take any notes whatsoever. maybe this little crush was getting out of hand. but how was he supposed to pay attention when strahm seemed to regularly, coyly, meet his eyes mid-lesson, in a stare that felt so unmistakably provocative- appealingly domineering, even- and surely was not wholly imagined, not a product of wishful thinking. no, he was certain that if only they could get each other alone...

"hoffman," an unmistakeable voice cut through the silence of the now-empty classroom, just as mark was headed for the door. there was always something about strahm calling him by his last name that tickled him, although he couldn't fully place why. perhaps it was the possessiveness in his voice. "stay back for a minute or two, yeah?" the request sent a small wave of panic through his body. he swallowed hard; surely he was facing a chewing-out for his increasingly noticeable disinterest in, and distraction from, the course subject matter. his nerves only intensified as he observed his professor rise back up from behind the desk and walk towards the door, at which mark was frozen in place.

his nerves fell away momentarily when strahm closed the door in front of them, replaced suddenly by an onslaught of confusion. however these waves of emotion were superseded by something unidentifiable when he heard the distinct sound of the door being locked. his heart raced. strahm was mere inches away from mark now, standing several inches above him, looking slightly downwards with a smile. "lunch hour," he said in a low, near-whisper. "no one's coming to look for me. or you, i'm assuming." mark shook his head, nervously, in affirmation. strahm looked him up and down, conspicuously, before breaking the tiny distance between them in order to walk back behind his desk. he made a casual "come here" motion with his hand as he did so.

"i'm not stupid," strahm declared, now seated relaxedly in his chair. "and i don't think you are either." mark felt heat rising in his face and prayed he wasn't becoming visibly flushed, but the cheeky smile which spread across his teacher's face suggested otherwise. "but," strahm continued, "you're not exactly subtle, you know that?" mark stood firmly in place. "i don't know what you mean," he replied with all the courage he could muster, trying to maintain eye contact. strahm briefly tilted his head back and laughed before looking mark back in the eye with increased intensity. mark could have sworn there was suggestiveness in that stare. sworn it wasn't his own wishful thinking.

"sure," strahm retorted, dismissively, before making a "come over" motion with his hand, beckoning his student to his side of the desk. mark swallowed hard again, making his way behind his professor's workstation. that flush he had prayed earlier hadn't made its way to his cheeks now felt unmistakably present. that heat in his face only deepened when he felt strahm grip his shirt collar, pulling him closer. with their faces now mere centimeters apart, mark felt a hand on his chin- one of the very hands about which he had spent so many classes fantasizing. strahm held him by the jaw to turn his face to the side. he proceeded to lean in close, lips brushing his student's ear. "don't play dumb," he whispered. "you're not good at it."

mark's lips parted as his breath hitched, a visible shudder running down his spine. strahm took the opportunity, this momentary weakness, to grab him by the sides and pull him into his lap. mark sat, straddling him, legs on either side of his professor's. immediately strahm took the opportunity to run a finger over is needy little pupil's full lips, then pulled mark in even closer to move in for a kiss, but not before biting his lower lip, eliciting from him a half gasp-half moan. mark opened his mouth eagerly, allowing strahm to take full control of the kiss. several times he had to wonder if he was dreaming, however his teacher's hands on his hips and thighs felt all too real.

strahm thumbed at the waistband of mark's pants, brazen enough to undo his belt buckle with one hand. mark shivered despite himself and unconsciously spread his legs further to the sides. his eyes were now closed, but at the sound of a zipper they shot back open. oh shit. shit. he forgot to tell- should he have told? how was he supposed to remember under these circumstances? he shifted nervously but made no attempt to remove himself. he was in it now, for better or worse. a hand- that large, strong hand, god help him- made its way under his now open fly and below the waist of his boxer-briefs. he shuddered, despite himself. a look of confusion painted strahm's face as he reached lower but, to mark's relief, his confounded expression fell away, replaced by that coy smile.

"well isn't this interesting," strahm spoke in a low, half-whisper. he ran his fingers through the wetness that had by now undoubtedly soaked through the fabric of mark's underwear. his student barely had time to process the sensation before he felt two long fingers push roughly inside him, followed soon after by a third. "never really took you for a whore," strahm teased, "but, shit. this wet already, i don't know what else to call you." he was smiling and looking up into mark's eyes as he slid his fingers in and out. mark's eyes fluttered shut, breathing labored, sounds he desperately tried to suppress now escaping his parted lips. it was already too much, the precision finger-fucking, but when strahm began to thumb at his clit during his efforts mark felt the little control he had left fall to pieces. he gripped the chair's armrests and buried his face in the crook of the other man's neck, more whining than moaning.

"i should report you for this, you know," the young cadet breathed out with all the strength he could muster. strahm laughed, increasing the intensity of his ministrations. "and will that be before or after you come, hm? before or after i fuck you like you need?" there was a brief silence. "i- i guess," mark replied with an audible shudder, "i can... i can wait 'till after." "good boy," strahm praised. "tight little thing, too." mark lost himself; control and self-respect flying out the window all thanks to the skilled hand of his teacher. "i can take it," he insisted. "take you. anything." he couldn't even care that he sounded desperate by this point.

"anything," strahm repeated suggestively. without warning he removed his fingers and inserted them roughly into mark's mouth, nearly gagging him. "clean up this mess you made," he continued, "and maybe i'll think about fucking you." mark didn't need to be told twice. he sucked each finger clean, tasting himself on each one, maintaining eye contact the whole time. once strahm evidently deemed his ministrations satisfactory he abruptly pulled his hand away from mark's mouth, earning a choked gasp from the young man, and grabbed him by the hips. he eased him off of his lap in order to stand up and once again face his desk, which he cleared of papers and supplies with two swipes of his arm, files and teaching tools rattling to the floor. just as abruptly he grabbed mark's waist- much more firmly than necessary- until he had brought him into a sitting position atop his work surface. now the height difference wasn't so glaring, and as strahm once again gripped mark's jaw to bring the eager student into a kiss, it was as though their lips fit much more nicely together. this kiss, compared to the last, was far more desperate, hungrier. overflowing with need from both parties.

strahm deepened the kiss to forcefully push mark back until he was lying flush atop the desk, his teacher's arms braced domineeringly by each side of his head. strahm moved lower to kiss his jawline, his neck, before pulling back to crouch between mark's legs. impatiently he pulled both shoes off in order to yank his pants the rest of the way down, and ultimately off. mark's heart raced from a mixture of anticipation and exposure. his thundering pulse only spiked further when he felt strahm's tongue on his cunt, dragging its way up to tease his clit. mark swallowed the moan rising up in his throat. "i wish we were somewhere more private," his professor spoke quietly between licks. "want to hear you." he buried his face back between mark's legs before the young cadet could reply. truthfully it was becoming harder and harder not to be heard.

despite strahm's admission there was something about the semi-public aspect of their affair that both parties rather enjoyed. yes, the locked door freed them from worry over any intrusion, but it wasn't as though no one could be right outside. at the thought mark became acutely aware of his labored breathing, as well as the moans which insisted on escaping his throat despite his best efforts. his thoughts were cut short by strahm's low voice. "i'm a man of my word, he said. "i thought about fucking you... seems doable." mark gasped briefly. "please" was all he could say.

strahm stood up to hover over his supine student and reached for his belt buckle. mark thought he was going to pass out, but perked back up, hearing the zipper. he felt a sudden heat blossom low inside him as strahm took his cock out, moaning softly at the sight- god help him he was big. mark was already lost in thought over how good he must feel when he felt strahm slide the tip of his cock slowly up and down his slick cunt. mark shivered and arched his back, further spreading his legs invitingly, parting his full lips in an enticing manner. soon enough he felt strahm push in.

mark inhaled deeply at the sensation and strahm wasted no time pushing all the way in. mark buried his face in the crook of his neck, hands reaching up and around to claw at his professor's shirt, fingernails digging into his muscular back. he threw his head back as strahm leaned down to kiss and bite his throat, stopping to put a hand around it, keeping him in place. his other hand gripped mark's upper thigh. mark groaned, barely believing that what he had fantasized about nearly every day had become a reality. he couldn't control the sharp moans escaping his lips as strahm's thick cock hit and dragged against his G-spot with every thrust. truthfully he felt a bit embarrassed- there was no way he could last. not for any respectable amount of time, anyways. fortunately for his ego, judging by his labored breathing his teacher wasn't far behind.

"son of a bitch. i've been missing out on your pussy all this time, huh?" strahm exhaled. "it's only fair," mark retorted breathlessly. "been missing out on your dick, after all." he noticed himself tightening around the cock inside him, desperate to feel anything and everything. strahm groaned at the sensation, lowering his head to plant another desperate kiss on his student's perfect mouth. mark could taste himself again on his tongue and his breath hitched, tears stinging his eyes. he could feel himself getting closer, that unmistakeable, throbbing heat between his legs. "professor... mr. strahm," mark breathed out as seductively as he could, "i'm- i can't," he continued in a whimper. strahm looked him in the eye. "go on, baby," he half-whispered, "hard as you can. let me feel you."

the pet name sent mark over the edge, clawing at strahm's back and burying his face in his neck in an attempt to muffle the noises he was now helpless to control. "that's it," strahm whispered, "that's it. good boy." mark nearly sobbed as he felt the shudder run through the older man's body before he came shortly after. mark swore he could feel the heat of it fill him up and moaned at the sensation. "you like that, sweetheart?" strahm panted into his ear. mark nodded eagerly, unable to even make a coherent sound at this point. he whined again as his teacher pulled out, bracing himself atop his student once more to place kisses on his neck and lower stomach. they both rode out their high as they steadied their breathing together, taking their time. mark couldn't help but smile, placing his hands on strahm's face to pull him in for one last tender kiss before they both redressed. mark would never admit it but he was looking forward to feeling his teacher's cum inside him for the rest of the day.

the tone changed suddenly; strahm backed up with a look of concern on his face. "wait," he began. "you... you can't get pregnant, can you?"

mark laughed at his nervousness and shook his head with a smile.

#mark hoffman #peter strahm #hoffstrahm #coffinshipping #saw #I DON'T KNOW HOW NOT TO WRITE AUTISTICALLY

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kellycataclysm · 13 days

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Be My Once in a Lifetime

It was New Year’s Eve, our first together. We were at an event in the city, tickets gifted to us by my family. My face was flushed, my cheeks warm, but all I could do was smile. I couldn’t stop if I tried. I took another sip of champagne, the bubbles bursting on my tongue as the cool liquid refreshed me before adding to the hazy, dreamlike sensations I felt, tingling through my body all the way to my fingertips. I returned my glass to the table, giggling as my eyes met his.

‘You’re drunk.’ He smiled, pulling me close, hands moving over my hips.

I snorted. ‘Sir, I am not. How dare you!’ Mocking, not even remotely upset at the accusation. I beamed up at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. We were standing by our table, close to the edge of the dancefloor, swaying, not dancing, just holding each other close, his fingertips slowly tracing up and down my spine, the low back of my dress giving him access, my skin tingling. I slipped my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling him shudder slightly. I couldn’t believe he was mine.

‘You’re beautiful.’ He looked so deeply into my eyes, I felt like he could see what I was thinking. ‘Marry me.’ He asked, his voice soft and low. My heart pounded in my chest. I exhaled softly, gazing up at him, my lips curling to a smile, blushing at his words.

‘You already asked me. I already said yes.’ I giggled.

‘I can’t help it. I had to ask you again… especially when you look like this and you’re here with me.’ He held me tight before spinning me around gently, the soft green fabric of my long dress swirling around my legs. I came back to his chest with a slight bump and another giggle as his hands circled my waist. ‘You are so beautiful.’ He brought his lips close to mine. ‘Marry me.’ He asked again, genuine and tender.

‘Harvey…’ My breath caught in my throat before another quiet sigh escaped me. ‘I can’t wait to marry you.’ Our lips met. I was lost to him, wanting to feel his arms around me for as long as I could.

The above is an excerpt from my long fic, The Words We Never Say, New Year's Eve for Lyra and her Harvey, and I can't stop thinking about it, so much so that I'm thinking it may be the basis for my April one-shot. In the meantime, I asked the super lovely, sweet and incredibly talented @sunshinecovey to bring Lyra and her Harvey to life. I think they look stunning. Once again, Sunny was able to capture everything perfectly. Thank you so much for working with me again!

#sdv harvey #stardew valley #stardew harvey #stardew valley harvey #sdv #harvey sdv #sdv farmer #stardew stardust #stardew farmer #sdv fanart

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wondernus · 7 months

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˗ˋˏ Briefly Orange ˎˊ˗ | PREVIEW

SUMMARY: Fragmentary source of healing and like an oasis away from the city, for his group of friends, Boo Seungkwan’s family farm is a regular vacation destination away from the city. Yet Seungkwan wishes for anything but a future filled with mountains of oranges, his dream of living in the city still ineffaceable in his head. When he receives a request from a friend he fell out of touch with asking if they could stay on his farm for the Summer, Seungkwan finally finds himself in an opportunistic place in which his dream can finally become a reality. Why? Because you’re cursed to have everything you love disappear.

Sweltering heat and an eventful Summer, magic touches lives in ways that we can never imagine. But in this transition between seasons, we find ourselves asking: When loss is as transient as the lives we live, what does it mean to love with every fiber of our being?

PAIRING: bsk x reader

FIC GENRE: angst, romance, slice of life, magical realism

FIC TAGS: food/drinks, time jump, summer fic, exes to lovers, friends to lovers, slow burn, cooking processes (including mentions of knives), character gets physically hurt

PREVIEW WC: 3.1k

FIC WC: 30k

MESSAGE FROM NU: this is merely a preview for the longest fic i've written so far. i've been working on this for months now so i'm so incredibly excited to share the preview with you all this product of so much love and care for seungkwan <3 there are 23 chapters in total, and here are some excerpts from the first few chapters. if you would like to be tagged in the final fic a few days from now, please let me know! - nu ♡

wondernus's masterlist

It starts with the peel. Hold the orange in both hands and press your thumbs against the hollow bottom where there’s an open dip between the peel and the fleshy meat of the orange. Press into the peel with the tips of your fingernails, hard, penetrating the peel and creating a perfect opening to peel the fruit. Then, start peeling the bright and smooth outer shell away until you’re left with that orange and fleshy ball of juice. When you halve the fruit between your fingers, it sizzles and cracks crisply as you rip it apart — sometimes the juice escapes the membrane in a transparent drop of liquid, collecting on your finger, and rolling down your hand toward your arm. Sweet or sour, the rest comes after.

The large rolling suitcase leaves behind two long indents in the dry dirt path as it drags along the road. Each pull and tug towards a new temporary familiar coats the once black and glossy wheels in a matte tan color disrupted by speckled imprints of tiny gravel in every new layer of dirt rolled onto the wheels. Once in a while, the wheels break through a pair of footprints that belong to the person pulling the suitcase like the long lines used to omit phrases from a written sentence. Still, the traces along the dirt path are never straight, nor are they as continuous as one would like them to be. As an arborist would study the rings of a tree to determine periods of sickness and health, anybody could see how the lines left by the suitcase indicate periods of pause in transit, a person struggling along the road, and moments of pure and undisrupted conversation.

Under the warm morning sunlight, Boo Seungkwan has a new kind of warmth lingering by his side — someone so familiar yet so new, neither déjà vu nor jamais vu but nostalgia in person. He hasn’t seen you in years, yet he can’t find himself to say he expected the person to step out of the taxi to be someone drastically different. But you’ve changed since he last saw you, albeit it’s a more mature version of you who walks alongside him toward his family farm.

Seungkwan knows everything about you, for instance, as long as he asked you about family, close friends, past relationships, the summary of the last chapter you read: you would always answer, bluntly of course. In the past, he would often find himself wondering about whether or not you never made the effort to ask him any questions about himself because you were simply not interested or if you were afraid of your inevitable. He knows the amount of hair that collects on your drain every time you shampoo your hair. He knows you never order the same drink from a coffee shop twice. He knows the answer to every single question he has ever asked you to the point where he’s afraid that one day he would run out of questions to ask you. So when he received a message from you asking if you could work at his farm for the Summer in exchange for room and board, he knew both your lives are about to undergo a new form of change and momentum. Change or no change, he agreed to your request if and only if you would be willing to fulfill his additional term: you must help him get rid of his oranges.

What presents itself as the Summer getaway is a 3-acre piece of land that hosts a small orange grove behind the cream-colored family farmhouse and guest house-turned-seasonal café that Seungkwan is left in charge of for the Summer while his family vacations in the Maldives. Even sitting in the car with the windows down and turning onto the street in which the property sits wafts of honeyed and tangy citrus can energize those on a long journey away from the city. Beside the dirt road that leads towards the farmhouse are large patches of clover in place of grass and the beautiful array of flowers and bushes that are planted between dirt and clover. What is most magnificent, Seungkwan points out while walking up to the farmhouse where you would be staying for the rest of the Summer, is not the fact that his grandparents built this place from the ground up or the thousands of oranges they produce each year, but the fact that he drew the long end of the stick for you so you have the first floor study to yourself instead of having to share a room with the rest of his friends.

When his introductory gist is returned with silence, Seungkwan finds himself too embarrassed to see whether or not you’ve reacted in response. But if he took the time to look, he would’ve seen you looking around your surroundings in awe, wondering about how much of the landscape could change just by being thirty minutes away from the city.

“Let’s see,” Seungkwan mumbles while opens the front door and leads you to the interior of the house in an attempt to free himself from his embarrassment. “The study is the first door on the left down the left hallway. It’s a sofa bed, and I already set it up for you. Laundry room is one door down. I’m in my grandparents’ bedroom down the right hallway. There’s also a bathroom and a guest room on our side. Everybody else should be upstairs…if you think it’s awkward to have pictures of my family stare at you while you sleep, I won’t be offended if you turn them around.” He scratches his hair, still trying to figure out whether or not he conjured an air of awkwardness between the two of you.

He hovers behind you as you quietly make your way to your room, looking at you crane your head to look around the foreign farmhouse interior from the living room to the wooden beams that support the ceiling. It’s quiet between the two of you, as if you’ve both run out of topics to discuss after the brief moment the two of you trekked from taxi to house. He doesn’t know why he hesitates when you reach for the doorknob as if he were imagining you to be some interior design critic for a magazine. But his breath hitches for a second when you open the door and step into the modest office. Distracting himself from nothing, he looks at anything but you and settles for the tiny streaks of dirt your suitcase wheels brought indoors. And he wipes away the dirt with his foot, making a mental note to mop when he has time.

“Seungkwan?” Your voice calls for his attention not too long after you entered the office.

Seungkwan steps into the open doorframe, careful to not cross the threshold of the room in order to give you some privacy. He notices you’re sitting on the edge of the sofa bed, your suitcase temporarily tucked against the wall and underneath the light switch. There are pictures of his family on the shelves, most of them with him in large puffer jackets holding large oranges in his tiny hands. What is more is that he notices your hand which clutched the blanket in which you are sitting on loosen with his presence and leave a mountainous crease in its absence.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

The response sounds like a squeak which Seungkwan finds both amusing and reassuring. The fact is there is an air of awkwardness present, not from his creation but from the years the two of you spent apart, that causes you to squeak. Gratitude phrased simply, yet your simplicity is more than enough to let him know you’re feeling the same way he feels.

Truthfully, Seungkwan is still trying to fathom and process the fact that you are here with him. It hits him in this moment that maybe the you who sits in comfortable silence while staring out the window isn’t exactly the same you he once knew like the back of his hand. Finally taking time to look at his friend closely, Seungkwan still recognizes you in the same way that we recognize ourselves as ourselves even when all of our cells have exchanged themselves for new cells. He recognizes the way your hands clutch into balls with your thumbs placed between your pointer and middle finger when you fidget. He recognizes the backpack you brought as the same one you used in college. But he fails to recognize and understand why or how you have become the person to reach out to him for any reason. Why is it that he was chosen to be one of your protagonists in your journey in finding the meaning to your life? How is it that a nobody who dreams of a life unattached to the farm could possibly offer something of such value to someone who constantly lives life in fear of loss?

Truth is, there is always something about being next to you that always makes Boo Seungkwan want to cry. Pity doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that wells and burns in his chest. Is it rage? Sadness? Regret? Empathetic and sympathetic as he is, he is prone to wearing his emotions before he can even realize what he is feeling. Being next to you causes his chest to concave and collapse in on itself, but he knows better than to feel bad for you. Or maybe he thinks it’s so fucked that you’re in a position in which you’re so desensitized to loss that you can’t even recognize in any moment that you lost what you loved. Always by your side, or at least until a few years ago, Seungkwan was there to reintroduce you to the things and concepts you’ve once loved because he cared and notices. Now, a savior isn’t who he’s trying to be nor was that role ever his intention. Maybe a constant without caution is what he strives to be in your life even if his own selfishness causes him to believe that in case you ever allow yourself to fall in love with him he would be able to disappear and thus never take on the responsibilities of a third-generation farm owner.

Yet a curse regarding loss upon a regular human being in love shouldn’t be the wake-up call that shows the world that loss is a daily occurrence. Loss is as banal and unremarkable as its spelling. And Seungkwan knows this. He’s lost torn snack foil wrapper corners from his pockets. He’s lost time during transit. He’s lost those who he once loved dearly. So why is someone else’s loss so much more important to him when he knows that love is involved?

And why is it that he chooses to show everybody unconditional love and care even when he knows transactional relationships would statistically yield more return?

Seungkwan isn’t a bad person. There isn’t a single bad bone in his body. He’s known you long enough to not tiptoe around you because, despite your curse, you’re just a regular person. And you would prefer it if other people treated you as a regular person. But why is it that he feels the way he feels whenever he’s alone with you?

Orange peel sliced away to form a hexagonal-shaped fruit, lean the fruit on its long side against the cutting board to slice thin hexagons. If what you hold in your hand is too dull, then you risk losing more than what there is to the recipe. Dullness slices the fruit just as sharpness does, but you risk bruising the delicate meat and creating soft pockets of mush while the juice escapes and drips onto the cutting board. There are times when it’s better to do things quickly and all at once or you will risk losing the beauty in your creation. Simple orange slices in a refreshing salad, sometimes it’s better to not try too hard. You did your best. And that’s enough for me.

Dropping the ATV off near the entrance to the orchard, Seungkwan jingles and twirls the keys in his left hand while directing to his seasonal workers where the crates should be stored for the night shipment to local grocers. Without noticing how hard he twirls the keys around his pointer finger, the small chain of keys flies off his finger and onto the ground a few feet ahead of him. It lands on a soft patch of dirt, light colored dust covering surfaces that gleamed with a metallic sheen just a few seconds ago. Someone picks up the pair of keys before Seungkwan has the change to chance to react and lightly tosses the keys back to its owner.

Yoon Jeonghan, with his jet-black hair he spent months growing out that finally touches his shoulders, takes long strides towards his friend while reaching into his pant pocket for his phone, a long stream of complaints already trailing out of his mouth.

“I looked everywhere for you,” Jeonghan complains to Seungkwan while Seungkwan finds himself rolling his eyes. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone? We’ve been calling and texting you, but you wouldn’t reply.”

“I left it somewhere. Can’t remember where I put it,” Seungkwan sighs while wiping the dust off his keys with the hem of his shirt. “When did you arrive?”

“Like half an hour ago.” Jeonghan adjusts his light blue baseball cap to better shield his eyes from the Sun. He clicks open his lock-screen to double-check the text he received from his driver. “Seokmin’s napping in our room. He’ll come out later.”

“Oh no, was the drive bad? When did you guys leave?”

“Nah, the drive wasn’t bad. He’s just hungover,” he replies nonchalantly while shoving his phone back into his pocket. The dark-haired man quickly looks around the familiar farm and rocks on the heels of his feet. “Busy, huh?” He observes.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees. There is a glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes when he cocks his head toward the ATV he parked not so long ago. “But the new investments help.”

“Bro I can’t imagine how cool your grandparents must look while riding the ATVs.”

“5 miles an hour.” Seungkwan gestures the number five with his hand and drops it after. “Speed demons.”

It’s clear to Seungkwan that Jeonghan, who had spent a remarkable amount of time on this farm over the past few years, isn’t looking around to people-watch or check out the new additions to the farm. He’s been around long enough that Seungkwan’s grandparents consider him as one of their grandsons. No, Seungkwan knows that while Jeonghan is trying to play it off as if he’s simply checking out and reminisce in his surroundings, what he is looking for is not an it, rather, a who.

When Yoon Jeonghan, who is usually not the type of person to be silent or stay still for long periods of time, freezes in his spot like a deer in the headlights, Seungkwan knows better than to follow his friend’s line of vision to see who exactly it was who caught his eye. Instead, Seungkwan looks toward the blue canopy near the entrance and notices that two people are missing from their posts.

Out of nowhere, Seungkwan feels someone from behind him throw their entire weight onto his shoulders. The force of the sudden weight on top of Seungkwan knocks Seungkwan’s sunhat from his head forward and onto the ground and causes him to lose his balance, but he grabs onto the unwavering Jeonghan’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Seungkwan,” Yunling sings in a sing-song voice. Her bleached blonde hair falls and covers half of Seungkwan’s face as she reaches her arm over his shoulder to wave a familiar object in front of him. “You forgot your phone.”

“Get off me. It’s hot,” Seungkwan groans while bending his knees so she can safely hop off his back. She hands him his phone to which he thanks her for. In the meantime, another person picks the sunhat from the floor and tucks a thick booklet underneath their aim pit to brush the dust off the hat before handing it back to its owner. And Seungkwan finds himself, yet again, thanking another person for handing him an item he dropped.

Seungkwan sees you bring the accounting booklet to the front of your chest while Yunling leans her elbow on your shoulder. It looks like you’re about to say something to him, but someone interrupts your question.

“Yn.” Jeonghan manages to push through his state of shock, yet your name rolls off the tip of his tongue as if he spent his entire life dedicated to saying the name.

It feels familiar because it was.

Gladly handing his daughter over to his friend, Choi Seungcheol mumbles a quiet note of gratitude before he sits up straight and rolls his shoulder backwards to stretch his back. He leans forward in his seat and comfortably rests his elbows on his knees before grabbing the untouched fork next to his salmon salad. And Seungkwan watches him dig his fork into the roasted salmon and take a hearty bite to enjoy the marinated citrus flavor of the salmon by itself before raking the metal prongs through the meat to shred it to pieces just as Seungkwan’s grandparents had taught Seungcheol to do so before they went on vacation.

June is when Seungkwan’s friends all arrived at the farm for a Summer away from the city; January is when Seungcheol arrived at the farm, two people’s lives packed up in a couple of suitcases and cardboard boxes for time away from the city to heal and escape. The café, originally a guesthouse, returned to serve its original purpose by housing Seungcheol and his daughter for a little over half a year, and Seungkwan knows very well that he doesn’t have the heart to tell his friend that he should’ve moved out months ago. So he sits in the once sought-after spot in the café with a sleeping baby in his arms, watching the newly single father scarf down his salad like it’s his last meal. Looking at the infant, her dark-colored eyebrows and the pout that resembles her father’s all too well, stress stores itself in the pit of his stomach, finding company with the sympathetic grief he shared with the heartbroken Seungcheol who once couldn’t so much bring himself to pick up the pen to sign his divorce papers.

Falling in love is easy, but falling out of love and learning how to become whole again is a process that can shatter one’s soul and make one doubt whether or not love in any shape and form is an achievable future feat. A lifetime is not long enough to contain and overcome love’s defeat for some. And for those devastated by love, the process of falling in love would never be the same as it once was.

#svthub #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seungkwan imagines #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x yn #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan angst #seventeen angst

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gaiaseyes451 · 4 months

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Choice - A New Good Omens Fic

You may be aware we're having a smut war over at @goodomensafterdark. I'm pleased to be firing my first volley of the war with Choice! Note: Rated Explicit on AO3.

An Excerpt:

At first I wanted you because you were beautiful.

Oh Lord, but you were beautiful.

The first time I caught sight of you in the darkness of the budding universe, starlight tangled in your hair, the brightness of creation shining in your eyes. How I had wanted you, there and then. The yearning possessed me, ached in my core, intruded on my thoughts. I passed the nights in my quarters, feeling every needling second as I waited for the appointed time to return to the stars beside you.

I could not say when the furtive glances and carefully incidental grazes began. I tried to deny the feeling, dampen the hope that there was a pattern behind the brief encounters. A side-effect of working in close proximity, I told myself, encounters that were unavoidable and meaningless. Nothing more than happenstance, and surely not borne from your desire. A friction, exciting atoms to emit heat, pleasant in the moment—how I burned for you—but chafing in the aftermath when you pulled away. And so I attempted to deceive myself.

***

Six days I waited for your approach, listened for your voice, felt the phantoms of your touch. You were pulled away, conversing in hushed whispers and strident tones. Angels I had never seen demanded your attention… I sat on the precipice, waiting for any breeze to tip me over the edge.

On the seventh day, you approached me for the third time. Before I heard you, I sensed you—a star binding a body in its orbit, I was drawn to you, encompassed now by a force I could not resist. Even if I could have broken the tether, I did not desire escape. I stilled as you neared, holding my breath, thrumming with anticipation. Your hand hovered between my wings, a touch so light my back prickled as you leaned over my shoulder, breath hot on my ear.

“Plans are progressing.” Your fingers slipped over the primary feathers to the soft coverts and I shuddered in pleasure.

“The observatory tonight after evening prayer. Let me show you what could be.” You spoke the words with your nose tucked beneath my jaw and I knew you could feel my pulse racing beneath the thin skin.

Your fingertips dug into my back and I arched into the sharpness. “I will not ask again.”

You withdrew, leaving me churning in your wake.

*~*~*

A special thanks to @sohoscribblers and my wonderful beta readers: @hakunahistata, @ineffable-obsession, @the-literal-kj, @adverbian, @depraved_dame, @adeptdragonfruit54, @azeutreciathewicked, @uz-6,

#good omens #crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #good omens 2 #my fic #my fanfiction #good omens smut #good omens heaven #good omens fandom #ineffable smut war

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foreverjustaplace · 3 months

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The Bear in the Room

AHHHHHHH!! I'm not at all normal about Syd and Carmy. Like not at all. I have been reading and writing fanfiction since elementary LOL, but it's been years and years since I wrote anything. I've devoured just about every single fanfic with the Syd/Carmy tag I could find and then some. I've had this tumblr for over a decade and posted ZERO things. Now I've retweeted every other sydcarmy post and debated sharing my own theories and fics. But it's time. Feedback is welcomed! But be gentle, my darlings, I'm not exaggerating when I say I haven’t written fanfiction in over a decade. I'm nervous. Here's an excerpt from the first chapter, which will hopefully be up soon on AO3. It's called The Bear in The Room and will be a 5+1 Time fic.

5 Times Syd called Carmy "Bear" and 1 Times he calls her "Bear"

Syd is irritated. “Look, Carm. Effective teamwork begins and ends with communication.” She doesn’t tell him she stole that line from Coach K. “How can we build this up to be as successful as we want it to be if you’re not even telling me you’re going to be late? Or, I don’t know, text me if you’re not going to come in at all during our scheduled time.”

“Syd, that was one time. And I didn’t realize my phone wasn’t plugged in properly which is why it died and I couldn’t text you until much later. That’s my fault. I was tired–”

Sydney cuts him off. “Carmy, dude, I’ve literally gotten less than five hours of sleep each night for the last couple of weeks. We’re all tired. We’ve been tired. This shit isn’t new for us. We need you on your A-game. I need you at your best!”

Carmy runs both of his hands through his hair, and his voice is strained but louder than it’s been all morning. “Syd, you are the one person who gets me at my best. If I’m fucking up out there,” he gestures to the windows behind them as he continues, “I’m doing everything in my power to not bring that shit near you. I give you whatever my best is, okay? You have to know that I want this restaurant to succeed, and I want to get you those fucking stars.” His face redding as his electric blue eyes look into her expansive brown ones.

Syd’s annoyance is fizzling out. She knows she shouldn’t let it. She wants to keep it at the forefront of her mind. She tries to force herself to keep thinking about how he’s been absent, hanging out with his girlfriend–a friend who’s a girl–Claire–whoever she is to him–but he’s still Carm and she’s still Syd. And though she hasn’t worked on the menu with him in his apartment in weeks, and though the moments of them talking about nothing and everything outside during a smoke break, where he somehow is always just finishing the cigarette he came outside to smoke as she opens the back door and comes to sit right next to him, haven’t been as frequent, she still feels deeply connected to him.

So all she can do at that moment is bite her bottom lip and swipe her tongue on that same spot so quickly, you’d miss it if you blinked, before hesitantly responding. “You have my best, too, and I—” But she doesn’t get to finish because Fak chooses that moment to push the restaurant’s new door open and boisterously yell out to no one in particular, “Look who I found! It’s Claire Bear and she is going to help us with our GET-THE-BEAR-FUCKING-READY-FOR-OPENING-DAY day!” Syd can’t help but stare at Claire, a beat too long, with her full face of makeup and fancy-looking shirt. At least she put on some closed-toed shoes for today. Before Claire can get out of Fak’s embrace, Syd turns back to Carmen and says, “I need your best to be better,” as she walks off to find Nat.

Soo what do you think? Is it worth posting?

#sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #the bear fanfiction #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #the bear

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aziraphales-library · 5 months

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love this blog sm, thank you for your work :)

Got any reunion fics, of them being reunited after being worried about each other. Everything under reunion tags seem to be break-up related and I'm looking for more of a hurt/comfort thing

You might be interested in our #kidnapping tag, as those fics often include separation, worry, and hurt/comfort. Here are some non-break up reunion fics...

Quietude by actualchangeling (G)

When the weight of the world had become too much to bear, Crowley had reached out for the comforts of sleep. Now, a year later, coming home to the one being he has ever considered family, he discovers it is easier to share it than to escape it.

Someday I'm Gonna Be Free, Lord by MnemonicMadness (T)

“How have you… whiled away the last two years?” He supposes it is a better conversational starter than Still a demon, then?, if only slightly. The silence shaped to fit where the words my dear might ordinarily go somehow feels even quieter. “Oh, uh, uhm… Yeah, whiling, it’s been a while, lots of… you know. Wiles. A very wily while. You know how it is.” “Yes, quite.” He hesitates, rethinking his answer. “Well, no, wiles aren’t really my department. Blessings, though, and a miracle here and there. It’s been rather peaceful.” Lonely, he doesn’t say. - A tale of love, Love, ineffability, and loopholes.

Lost and Found by Nadare (T)

When Aziraphale is late for a date, Crowley instantly knows he's in trouble. His journey to find Aziraphale will take him to old and new places, as well as reveal what's truly important in the end.

I Jump Off And Into Your Arms But I Can't Trust The Fall by adashofblue (T)

Excerpt from fic: "Akin to a snap of one’s fingers, the world the angel had come to know; his tidy little bookshop and home - was gone, and replaced by a blinding light." Or, Aziraphale falls. Will he be able to escape Hell and return to his husband?

Be My Light by fractalgeometry (T)

Aziraphale has a headache. Heaven has a vendetta. Crowley is very not okay with his angel disappearing without warning. Neither he nor Aziraphale like the dark, or the idea of spending unknown amounts of time away from Earth against their will. Clearly, they have to get back to normal. The problem is, how?

My Favorite Ghost by DiminishingReturns (T)

Decades after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell got their war — and nearly destroyed everything in the process. When Aziraphale finally manages to reacquire a corporation and return to Earth, he discovers he was gone longer than he thought and the planet has become unrecognizable. As he searches for Crowley and tries to figure out how he fits in a world that Heaven, Hell, and God have all wiped their hands of, nature works around him to reclaim the bones of an old civilization as the scraps of humanity build a new one. A lush and optimistic post-apocalypse story, told from the POV of an immortal who can't let go of the past.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #reunion #separation #hurt/comfort #mod d

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bbcphile · 10 days

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WIP Wednesday (MLC Mind Control Bug Fic Edition)

Happy Wednesday! Have some of a new MLC fic I just started working on!

I realized I had very strong feelings about amnesia in fics (as someone who has experienced it before), and so a new MLC one-shot fic was born, in which amnesiac a-Fei discovers the mind control bug in his neck his first night in Lotus Tower. (This part takes place after his failed attempts to get it out.)

To anyone who is missing my MLC longfic excerpts, the plan is to continue with them next week! (I'm hoping to get this one up on AO3 by the end of the weekend!)

A-Fei’s head swam a little with each step, but the pain had mostly subsided to a dull, manageable thud in time with his pulse. He was distantly tempted to pull himself free from Li Lianhua’s hands and walk unaided back to Lotus Tower, gathering enough energy to collapse only once he had reached his bed upstairs. But Li Lianhua gripped his arm more tightly the first time he even felt like he might be about to wobble, and yanked it over his shoulder until he was using Li Lianhua like half a crutch. And suddenly, not touching Li Lianhua seemed unacceptable.

“What were you thinking?” Li Lianhua muttered again, wrapping his other arm around a-Fei’s back and resting his hand on his waist. “You probably reopened your stab wound, collapsing like that. I really should be charging you for this, you know. You’re getting my professional expertise for free.” His grip tightened on a-Fei’s waist too close to the stab wound, sending ripples of angry fire coursing up his torso.

A-Fei hissed out a pained breath. “It’s worth exactly what I’m paying for it.”

Li Lianhua pulled his hand away from the injured waist like he’d been burned. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, putting his hand much higher up this time, closer to a-Fei’s ribcage. “I was just checking to see if you’re bleeding through the bandages. It’s a necessary part of the process.”

“Hmm,” a-Fei hummed, taking several more steps and relishing the sensation of the man’s hand against his side. His fingers were cold but the touch warmed him nonetheless. “And am I?”

“Are you what?”

“Bleeding through the bandages?”

“I didn’t finish checking. You’re too terrible a patient,” Li Lianhua said, squeezing a-Fei’s forearm in what seemed like an apology. “I’ll have to examine it more inside.”

“I see,” a-Fei said, taking another step, his mind still turning over the grip on his arm. Had they touched often? The idea of anyone else touching him made him want to unsheathe his dao, but with Li Lianhua, he would almost rather chance one of his bai hui’s acupoint’s lightening bolts of pain than step away. And as much as he disliked the idea of needing his wound examined, it would give him the opportunity to examine Li Lianhua. And to continue observing his own reactions to the man’s hands. “And what exactly does this examination entail?” he teased. “Based on your earlier example, I assume pinching or punching the wound? Or stabbing it again to check the durability of the healing skin?”

Li Lianhua snorted. “Only if you keep insulting my competence.” Then he paused, mid-step, his grip on a-Fei loosening. “Ah. I’m just going to look at the plaster. If blood has soaked through it, I’ll pour hemostatic powder on the wound first and then put a new plaster on. You’ll just need to untie your robes, but they can stay on. I’ll be quick.”

Huh. Unexpected. He had been joking, but actual information about what to expect didn’t hurt. Although something about the way he mentioned robes was strange. Almost as though Li Lianhua was uncomfortable about it. There was no reason for that to be an awkward request from someone providing medical treatment–

Unless they had been in a relationship, or at least had prior sexual history together.

It would certainly explain his response to Li Lianhua’s hands touching him.

He’d have to investigate more to be sure, since asking would be sure to prompt more lies.

#mysterious lotus casebook #WIP Wednesday #lhl #lianhualou #my fic #mind control bug fic #Di Feisheng #Li Lianhua #Dihua #feihua #The opening better shows my thoughts on amnesia and what the tropes don't capture #but this was cuter and therefore made for a better excerpt #so here you go!

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 1 month

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There will not be a new fic posted today. Sorry, babes, but I was really busy this week and couldn't finish the request I was working on in time to post 😔

The next part of Where's Mommy? is still on schedule to be posted next Friday, 3/22, so be on the lookout for that!

But... While I'm here. I also have something exciting I would like to share with everyone. A small tidbit from a chapter that I'm working on in the background. One from a series that a lot of my readers have been waiting for me to update. Can you guess which one it is?

A sneak peek is below:

Kix has done everything he can to keep Tup from becoming scrap parts. He's shuffled more flimsi-work, used more aliases, and even deleted clinical items from the record to make sure Tup stays off the radar. Kix doesn't enjoy the secrecy, but the GAR doesn't have any use for a broken clone. He would've dunked Tup in a bacta tank a long time ago, but with his broken jaw, there was no way to do it safely. Now, since so much time has passed, the prognosis isn't good. "What are our options?" you ask. "Limited," Kix answers. He scrolls through his data-pad and sighs. "At this point, the neuropathy is severe." "Meaning?" you ask. Even with all the time you've spent in the med-center, the medical jargon doesn't get any easier to interpret. "It's irreparable," Kix says. "The damage is done." "No," you gasp. That was the last thing you wanted to hear. "He'll… He'll be devastated." Kix puts his data-pad down and rubs his face. "I know." "There has to be something you can do about it," you quickly add. "Right?" "Cybernetics is his only option," Kix says. "It's not uncommon and it's better than nothing." You fidget with the hem of your shirt, trying desperately to hold in your emotions and stay strong. "How much would you have to amputate?" Kix picks his data-pad up and taps a few times until he pulls up a picture of a nerve map. He leans over so you can look at the image. "See this line here?" You nod. "This is the saphenous nerve. It runs from the upper thigh, here, all the way down the leg. It's a sensory nerve, which means it carries information like touch, pain, temperature, and leg position back to the brain. That nerve was damaged here, so we could probably get away with just below the knee." You let out a shaky breath. It was less than you expected, but it's still hard to imagine. And what's worse, you still have to tell Tup.

That's right, you guessed it. This excerpt is from Chapter 4 of A Man's Worth!!!

Tag List: @nahoney22 @commander-sunshine @sunshinesdaydream @padawancat97 @verndusk @sun-roach @coraex @lickylickylicky @homemade-clones @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @starrylothcat @moonwrecked @ladyzirkonia @stunkbiggu @cdblake1565 @ladytano420 @moonlightwarriorqueen @anxiouspineapple99 @clonethirstingisreal @dreamie411 @trixie2023 @cw80831 @ca77m3anna @reader6898 @kimiheartblade @dukeoftheblackstar @arc-trooper-8008 @knightprincess @kell-of-storms @msmeredithrose @skellymom @grindeeloo @totallyunidentified @ladylucksrogue @roboticsuccubus83 @totally-not-your-babe @rinwritesfics @t3mpest98 @asyas-daydreaming @sarcastic-nebula @arcsimper5 @spacemythic @1vlouds

I haven't forgotten about this series, and it still lives rent-free in my brain. As I mentioned in the New Year, I will be updating and finishing many of my series this year, and A Man's Worth is on that list! Thank you to everyone who is patiently waiting 💚💚💚

#tbbb writes

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ronearoundblindly · 18 days

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Zones and Photography for Fools Rush In! Steve. Preferably pre-nomad 😆

I read every update of yours as soon as I get the notification. Keep up the good work. You are amazing <333333

From this dirty ask game but okay, wait, I hope I'm understanding this correctly.

Fools Rush In!Steve is post-canon--he's a version of Steve that came back after replacing the Stones from Endgame,--so technically, he already went through his actual Nomad years. I'm gonna have to assume you me pre-Dignity of His Choice (since that's when he kinda looks like Nomad or Ari Levinson whoops again) which is fine because after all of Dignity's angst, I'm sure people are afraid of where that leaves us--terrible of me to leave y'all hanging so long, sorry. OH CRAP! Welp. This is gonna have some spoilers sorta kinda for the honeymoon fic in the works...Yes, Ro, but when will we ever get that f***ing thing???

So. Right. Here we go! Sorry, but MINORS DNI for these still.

woahhhhh omg he glows so pretty 🫠🤤

Z - Zones

Oh boy, oh boy!

Is it hot in here??? Just me? Sure. That checks out.

Steve has diminished sensitivity after the serum. It makes him stronger to feel less pain, but it's slightly more difficult in nearly ever other aspect of life. He feeds his tactile experience with the acuity of his enhanced senses. Ever heard the expression 'eating with your eyes?' Like that.

The sight of you, the smell of you, what you sound like, how you taste, these are all things he can absorb to fill in the gaps of his touch.

Now, the caveat? He's not a fucking idiot. He can tell if you are kissing, biting, scratching, or gripping him. He knows these are things you do for your enjoyment as well, so that fuels his entertainment during sex. After a whole lot of wallowing over how disconnected he felt without sensitivity, he understands this actually brings you two closer together because pleasure and intimacy is truly a shared experience.

Uh. Also. His neck. No judgment but he can hear and smell you very well if you pay attention to his neck. That's pretty great. He likes that.

P - Photography

Honestly, I just want to burst out laughing even imagining Steve taking a dick pic much less sending it 🤣 If he did do something like that, it would be an accident, and that boi would rush into some lab and insist there was a super secret mission to completely delete the contents of your phone before you opened it. I feel like he'd be lucky if he didn't just smash the phone itself out of panic. Seriously, I'M IN TEARS. Just no, hard no on the sending nudes.

I also think he'd be super worried about privacy if you sent them. The idea is sound, and it's not like he wouldn't enjoy them. Steve doesn't trust technology that much though, so not digital. Analog. Old school is the way to go. Which bring us to this cheeky bastard on his honeymoon with Keeps.

Enjoy this excerpt I've sat on for a year!

“What’s that?” “Your wedding present,” Steve beams. He fakes a frown at your following ‘we weren’t doing presents’ look. “Not big ones. They’re just for fun.” He picks up another Canon film camera, a hefty black and silver thing from his hard-sided suitcase, and hands it to you. “Thought they’d be nice for the trip.” You weigh it in your hands and eye the Polaroid then switch with Steve. “That’s more of an artsy-fartsy Sketch thing,” you say, stepping around him with your new toy, rushing to grab toasty sweatpants from your own bag. As you bend over to pull out the garment though, you hear a mechanical click and whip around. Steve still faces away from you, but his head is slightly turned and he softly whistles, so of course, you lift your camera and snap a picture of his ass, too. He wrinkles his nose, looking over his shoulder with an unhidden smile. You shake out the photo card provocatively while he suits up for the fireside in a sweater and jeans. He glances at the developed shot and, seeming satisfied, plants one more kiss on your forehead. He hums as he holds up his picture of you entering the tent, thumb tracing the line of your hip exposed like it was on the glossy magazine pages after your bear debacle. “Yes, out there distracting all the wild animals,” you joke. “It’s working,” he mutters. “Hungry, Misses Rogers?”

Also, lest we forget, Steve has an incredible memory. He does not need footage to remember exactly what it looks like when his cock is slowly dragging in and out of you, or how your ass jiggles as he ::cough:: enthusiastically fucks makes love to you ::cough::

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

SKETCH, MY BELOVED...

#ro answers #dirty asks #ask game #fools rush in series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine

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cocopop-04 · 1 month

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Tim stumbled to a stop as he spied a mound on the floor at the end of the hallway. He reached out for the light, one hand clasped around his bo staff, ready for a possible attack.

As the lights switched on, Tim blinked his eyes, adjusting to the new brightness.

He crept closer, stopping short when he realised what the mound was – Kon.

Tim swore under his breath, rushing up to the unconscious super and shaking his arm.

“Kon,” Tim hissed. “Kon, wake up.” Nothing.

Tim chewed his lip, assessing the situation with a finger on Kon’s pulse, which beat reassuringly while he thought. He started to heave Kon over his shoulder. He wasn’t in a serious state, Tim took comfort in knowing, but the lack of sunlight must have been having a worse effect on Kon than he had let on.

Tim grunted as he lifted Kon up, and slowly made his way towards the bunk room.

The door slid open automatically and Tim entered.

Tim walked over to the bunks on the left, hauling Kon onto his bottom bunk – Tim didn’t even want to try to get him up to the top one. As Kon fell onto the bed, Cassie stirred in the bunk opposite them.

“Tim?” she asked, groggily blinking her eyes. “Wh’ts goi’ on?”

Tim turned towards her. “Nothing, Cassie.” He smiled reassuringly, though he wasn’t sure she noticed. “Go back to sleep.”

“’kay.” Cassie turned over, eyes closed. Tim breathed a sigh of relief and turned back around, working on moving Kon’s limbs into a more comfortable position. He didn’t want to worry Cassie, especially not so late at night when she was finally getting some rest. He could tell her what happened in the morning.

Once Tim had spread the blankets over Kon’s sleeping form, he sighed wearily and climbed onto the bed, settling himself in at the bottom of the bed. He’d have to watch Kon for a bit, to make sure he was fine.

As Tim stared into the darkness of the room, he thought of Gotham. What would the other bats be doing at this point? It was nighttime there, the early hours of the morning where the city was quiet. The Bats would be home from patrol by now, probably asleep in their beds. He missed it.

Tim drifted off into sleep.

Excerpt from the fic I'm writing - 'In Darkest Void'.

#tim drake #dc #fanfic #dc comics #dcu #young justice #core four #young just us #kon el superboy #conner kent #ao3 fanfic #cocopop's fics #cocopop's posts

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composeregg · 1 year

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disclaimer: I am a volunteer for the OTW. I am speaking for myself, not on behalf of the organization, anything expressed here is my own. I may be wrong about some things, I'm very much not involved in any of this as part of my work. Additionally, I haven't run this by anyone else in the org, so take that as you will. I'm just a person, hoping to reassure other people, fans like myself.

A few people have come to me asking questions about this, and asking clarification already, so I just.... Want to reassure everyone. A lot of people follow me and know I volunteer, even if I don't talk about it much.

No, Ao3/OTW is not endorsing AI. Scraping is not being allowed or encouraged (you can, in fact, see here in this link, the code of Ao3 disallowing scraping). There is only so much the organization can do to prevent this. If you set your works to logged-in users only, it does somewhat give more protections. Data miners are very proactive, and prevention measures can only do so much. After the data is harvested, with or without consent, it is that much harder to pry back and out of those hands.

Many, MANY people are panicking. They saw an excerpt of an interview in this week's OTW Signal news roundup. This interview was from someone on the legal team of the OTW. She was speaking not for the organization, but as someone with credentials in the fields being discussed. Much of this has been misinterpreted and relayed second-hand. It was a conversation primarily about trademarks and AI.

I don't know the course the OTW is going to take regarding AI with the law, myself. That's not my field whatsoever. I can say, how would we even have the TIME or ABILITY to "develop an AI to be integrated with AO3" as some people speculate? It took our volunteer coders years to work out a block/mute function and get it from idea through testing to implementation.

The OTW does not want to just feed everyone's fanfic into AI. The organization may end up taking a middle-ground stance on the legality of AI and AI-generated creations. I don't think that Disney would care much for the distinction between "This is an AI generated item infringing on our trademark, remove it" versus "This is a fan-made item infringing on our trademark, remove it." The legality of AI versus fan creations is a very tricky topic, and from my understanding, that was the focus of the interview and what was being discussed (along with some other ideas).

Protecting the right to fanfiction and fan creations existing is the primary goal, and navigating new, emerging technologies that could find similar arguments, whether or not people at the org agree with them, means they may end up protecting them somewhat. This is not a betrayal of fandom. Every volunteer is an individual, and opinions within the org are all over the place, but we are all fans as well, and we don't want random bots just lifting all our fics and creations without any say-so either.

The topic of AI is a landmine right now, and I do think it was insensitive and ignorant of the current fandom/political sphere to highlight something like that interview, especially in the way it was done. It immediately led to panic, distrust in the org, and people spinning off numerous infeasible ideas because they simply do not have information, and hear rumors or don't parse a conversation about legalese well (I know I had trouble with it! A lot of my understanding comes from reading discussion about it myself). Nuance is important, as is the fact that nothing is ever published or discussed in a vacuum.

I don't blame anyone for having misinformation, I get it. It can be hard to find correct info. Transparency is something the org is not always great at (it's being worked on! Everyone is aware it's an issue! We are just very,,,,, very slow at implementing changes, as a volunteer-run organization). Time is the OTW's most valuable resource, and we are constantly, constantly in demand and in need of more time and manpower. It can make communications difficult, and very stressing.

The OTW is a non-profit, it is not selling any data. It does not want to sell your data. The money it makes is solely from donations. There is not going to be any selling to AI, there is not going to be any attempt to implement AI for the OTW itself.

Honestly, beyond that, I'm super not qualified to talk about the legal aspects of everything in the article/interview. I don't know all the inner workings of the org, I don't know all the thoughts and opinions and legal stances. I don't even know all the nuances of AI legal issues myself. I just know that I don't think it can replace creativity, and that it could be a fascinating tool in a better world (but I do not trust how it could be used here and now).

I hope this helps anyone who sees it. I hope that this is a reassurance, and that maybe it will help people feel better. I know panic is a powerful force, and I know there is a great distrust in any organization even mentioning AI (usually for valid reasons!). I know information can be hard to find, and legal discussions hard to read, I've been there with the org myself.

But the OTW is a group of people trying their best to make sure that fandom has protections. There are like, a thousand of us or something. Not all of us are going to agree on everything, but we all agree fans deserve a space to create and have those creations protected. One of the inciting incidents of its founding was a hatred of the idea of some company trying to profit off of fanworks with complete disregard for the fans themselves.

The OTW was founded to prevent fans from being taken advantage of, and to protect fandom's right to exist. It is never going to betray that core tenet. Partially because we're all fans ourselves and have a vested interest in keeping it that way, but additionally: This organization is nothing without its volunteers, and if someone high up on the board or something genuinely tried, we would know and we would make ourselves known.

(Just look into the Board Election of 2015!)

#otw #organization for transformative works #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 discourse #egg speaks #ao3 blogging #otw blogging #I will turn off reblogs if people try to start shit #also if staff tells me I fucked up then like. I will delete this tbc #I just. want to say something. I'm just some person #but I don't want other people to feel like they need to panic #or be afraid #or take down their works #also this feels repetitive but yolo

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