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bloodwrittenballad · 2 years

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The King | Pornstar!Steve Harrington x Porn!StarReader

Summary: Steve Harrington was The King

*Kinda Inspired by Stargirl Interlude by The Weeknd*

Warnings: SMUT, oral, crying during sex, afab!reader, both Steve and Reader are bisexual, creampie, spanking, Pornstar!Steve has tattoos, Dom!Steve, Sub!Reader, swearing, praise, dirty talk. DO NOT interact if you are a MINOR. 18+ ONLY.

And here we have it, folks, my most (un)holy creation yet… pornstar!steve. I’ve gotta say, I’m pretty fuckin proud of this fic, I think it’s one of my favorites and I hope it’s one of yours too. Who knows, maybe Pornstar!Steve will become a recurring character?

The heat of the lights were nothing compared to the heat in between your legs, the dripping of your cunt leaking all over the kitchen counter top. Your costar, Steve, one of the industry’s most profound actors, sat between your legs. His tongue reaching and exploring places no one has ever been able to before.

Your nails scratched against the counter, looking for something, anything, to hold you to the earth while he sent you to cloud nine. Back arched like a cat, you moaned and whined passionately, his groans of pure pleasure hitting deep inside of your throbbing core.

“Fuck,” you cried and instinctively squeezed your thighs around his head. He hummed a laugh at how needy you were, the way your already soaking wet cunt was dripping, in a way he has never seen before.

“That feel good, baby?” Steve asked, his golden brown eyes blown away with lust, a cheeky glint held inside them. He fucking knew you felt good, after all, Steve Harrington was The King. Men and women all throughout the industry had nothing but the upmost praise for him, for his glorious and delicious mouth.

“I’m gonna come,” you said in a high pitched whine. Stars danced in your eyes, or maybe that was the studio lighting, either way you were about to burst. Each lick, suck, flick of his hot and rough tongue on your clit brought you closer to your desperate release

Steve’s smile could be felt between your thighs, as he worked you up and beyond that glorious threshold of pleasure. “Then come, baby. Come on my tongue,”

It hit you like a tidal wave, literally. A splash of wet, intoxicating cum sprayed Steve’s face, his tongue still at a relentless pace as he worked you through your world shifting orgasm. “Holy shit,” he swore.

His swollen lips finally pulled away from your aching core, a rush of cold air hitting in between your thighs once he fully stood up and towered over you. His tall, naked glory in front of you, looking like a fucking God

Steve’s toned chest was covered in a layer of dark hair, which was one of his most critically acclaimed physical features. He kept every inch of hair, wether it was from the top of his head or… lower, very neat.

The sight of his v-line, with the happy trail and all, made your mouth water. His hard cock, which was red at the tip and oozing with precum, had you all but writhing upon the cool slab of stone countertop.

Steve watched with heavy eyes, noticing the hungry look you had on your face, mouth open and panting. Your tongue darted out and swiped over your lower lip, the drippy pink smudging your sparkly lipgloss.

He leaned forward in a rush, capturing your mouth on his, his own tongue diving deep inside of you once more. Your eyes widened, you could taste yourself on his lips, tangy but also sweet. That’s not what caught you off guard, however. You’ve tasted yourself before on many other people, but it was mostly because they’d stuff their fingers in your mouth and throat.

You were known to not be much of a kisser, your mouth usually being used for “better” things, but Steve’s bold and rather unscripted kiss had you sweltering in heat. A rush of wet hitting your thighs, this was one of the best you’ve ever had. Or, he was.

The prop countertop became to slippery you almost flew forward, yelping into his mouth, but his big and hard body kept you upright. One hand on your upper back for support, the other was right above your ass.

He squeezed, making you moan, breaking away from the impromptu make out session. Your lips were so puffy, your eyes blown wide as you looked up at him and said, “I need your cock.” Dragged out in a whine.

Steve huffed out his own needy, aching, whine. But he covered it with a laugh, “Yeah?” He says teasingly, “Yeah,” you moan, pretty much breathlessly. “Where do you want it?” He whispered and growled, licking a strip of your ear as he moved his hands up and down.

He explored your body, the tattooed muscle dipping between your curves and everything your beautiful body had to offer him. His gaze caught itself on your chest, taking in the way your breasts sat so prettily.

Steve didn’t waste a moment taking one of your rock hard nipples into his mouth, the sharp gasp you let out, hands gripping onto the countertop for dear life. It felt so good, he felt so good. He hasn’t even used his cock on you yet, and you already felt fucked out.

“Please, please,” you panted and pawed at his shoulders. “Gotta have your cock.” Upon hearing that, Steve’s lips departed from your nipple with a pop. You almost cried when you saw the string of drool connecting his mouth and your breast.

He saw it too, and fuck, did it spur him on. Within seconds, he had his cock aligned with your entrance, he couldn’t wait to feel you. He’s heard all about you, also from both men and women from the industry. Mostly from his good friend, Robin, you and her having worked together multiple times now.

Ever since then it’s been like a fantasy, a dream, to work with you. He had to pinch himself throughout the day to make sure he wasn’t imagine this, that he really truly was getting the million dollar chance to work with you. He felt like the luckiest person alive.

With a look that went deep inside your eyes and into your very soul, Steve wordlessly asked you if you were still okay. You nodded, giving him the green light to go ahead and fuck you. He took, and he did.

His cock entered you with great fervor, both of you letting out loud moans. Your legs wrapped around Steve’s hips, keeping you steady as he fucked into your sopping wet and tight cunt. “Jesus Christ,”

You threw your head back, arching and writhing like a person possessed. “God damn, baby. Knew this cunt would be tight, but I didn’t imagine this. You’ve got me like a fuckin vice, so wet and tight.” Steve greatly praised you, or… maybe he was mocking you. Either way, you felt amazing. He was reaching places inside of you no one else ever has, his cock hitting perfectly.

His speed was relentless, your already sensitive and sore body was on a different astral plane, you even forgot that this was just strictly work and this was not an every day thing. You fucking wish it would be.

“Fuck,” tears began to stream down your hot cheeks, and you couldn’t help but love it. The stars began to cloud your vision again, dancing above the two of you as you worked yourselves closer and closer to release. “You close again?” Steve asked, his voice dipping in a low tease as he said the word “again”

His “King Steve” persona, while at times incredibly hot and somewhat endearing, was also apparently a huge pain in the ass. Him being a household name went to his head at times, it seemed, but hey you had to hand it to him… he did truly live up to the title.

You rolled your eyes at his attitude, but played it off as a look of pleasure. After all, you had to sell it. And fuck, would you. Little did you know, was that after you two uploaded this, all hell would break loose and your audiences wouldn’t be able to get enough of the two of you together. They’d be begging for more…

Much like you were right now, so close to letting go, legs tightening around his hips and forcing him to move closer. If that was possible, he was already so close and deep inside you. His dark pubic hair teased and tickled your skin, but it also burned. The rough and intense rubbing of skin on skin, felt delicious.

Mouth hung open, your hands had switched from their place and the cold counter, to his back. You clung for dear life, nails digging into his tender skin and dragging down until they rested above his ass.

You bit your lip to hold back a smirk when an idea passed through your somewhat foggy mind, and you went with it. Slapping the skin, his ass jiggled slightly and he tensed, and his movement stopped abruptly.

You couldn’t help the needy clench around his cock, so close to letting go. Steve’s tattooed hand reached up to grab your chin and look you straight in your eyes, feeling how desperate you were. You gulped nervously when you saw the dark fire in his eyes.

Then, within a flash, you were off of your sitting position on the counter and instead being bent over it. You gasped, shocked by his actions and by the cold of the stone on your stomach and breasts.

Your knees hit the baseboards of the cabinets, but you didn’t even have time to think about it or care, his cock slamming back inside of you. “Dirty, dirty.” Steve tutted, “I knew you were a little minx, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” He said, your mind hazy.

You loved being talked to like this, it drove you over the edge every time. He could feel your cunt and how it clenched, one of his rough hands landed a harsh slap on your ass, the other in your hair as it tugged. “How does that feel, huh? You like getting slapped?”

Safe to say, yes. Yes, you absolutely fucking did.

“I’m gonna- fuck I’m, ah!” You moaned and held on to the counter, like your life depended on it. Steve’s pace began to get sloppier, you knew he was close too. “Cum with me, baby.” He encouraged, “cum on my cock, while I cum in this pussy.” And you did.

You came hard, earth shattering pleasure raining down of the both of you, as his cum filled you to the brim. He waited for a signal from the director, before he pulled away and twisted you back around. He spread your legs open and stepped to the side, so the camera man could get a close up of your ruined, cum covered cunt. You panted and moaned when you felt Steve’s fingers swirling around your pussy.

He tapped the camera man’s shoulder with his free hand and got him to turn the camera up to your face, before Steve’s cum covered fingers were stuffed in your mouth. You moaned tiredly, heavy eyes stare straight ahead at the camera, licking his fingers clean, until the red light is turned off. “Good work,”

You were both congratulated, and handed robes. Steve all too quickly for your liking put his on, smirking when he saw you looking. “Still can’t get enough, huh?” He teased. “Oh hush,” you said as you slipped the robe over your hot, sweaty body.

“It was really great getting to work with you,” Steve said earnestly, you smiled and felt the heat creep of from your thighs to your neck. “Hopefully we can do it again sometime,” he winked. “Now don’t get too hopeful, Harrington. I’m not so sure you can handle me more than once,” you mocked. Steve let out a chuckle, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that if I were you,”

Steve teased, “you might regret it someday…” He whispered in your ear, before backing away and walking towards his own green room. Leaving you there with shaking legs, a newfound rush of lust, and an extreme hope that there would be a someday.

☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ And Scene ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Tag list:

@yelenas-lova @k-k0129 @kylee-munson-barnes @yourlocalauthor @st-ls @stratospherewalker @gaiamuse @stevieswhore

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #smut fic #pornstar!steve #poetrieshouse #fics by poetrieshouse #into the pornstarverse

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canmom · 3 months

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Wait is ratfic not fiction about rats???

I can talk about fiction about rats too! Let's talk about some British childrens' book series! And one American comic book.

The four relevant works for our discussion would be the Redwall series by Brian Jacques, the Welkin Weasels series by Garry Kilworth, the Deptford Mice series by Robin Jarvis, and the Mouse Guard series by David Petersen. All these works portray a world inhabited by semi-anthropomorphic animals that are at the scale of real world animals. And indeed all of them include rats, albeit mostly as antagonists.

Redwall is perhaps the one that has most penetrated internet pop culture, thanks to articles like this one on SomethingAwful which mocked some of the series's recurring elements while painting Brian Jacques as a bit of a nazi. I ate those books up as a kid, but in retrospect I truthfully can remember only snatches: the shrews' battle cry of 'logalogalogalog!', the pages of elaborate descriptions of feasts.

Redwall is a big sufferer from the 'evil races' problem. A certain arbitrary set of species (e.g. rats, stoats, weasels, ferrets) are ontologically evil, and various other species are standins for various stereotypical British social classes (e.g. iirc moles are always working class). As unfortunately tends to be the case, it even makes the strange decision to double down on this - I believe in one of the books, a member of one of the evil species is raised in the Abbey, but inevitably his evil nature comes out when the good rodents and mustelids are once again threatened by an army of bad rodents and mustelids.

Nevertheless, as repetitive and ethically dubious as these books are, they do conjour a very specific flavour which makes them memorable. The author's enthusiasm for food as child of the Blitz shines through, as does his evident love for the idyllic Redwall Abbey. There's a lot of really charming elements like the 'logalogalog' thing. Having these read out to me as kid was great, it had a bit of a panto feel, where I could join in with the expected beats.

The first Redwall book implies that humans exist in this world, but this is subsequently quietly retconned to an only-animals fantasy world.

The Welkin Weasels series is a lot shorter at six books, and you may well bounce off the author's enthusiasm to insert puns and references all over the place (I recall one book managing to set up "badgers? we don't need no stinkin' badgers"), but from what I remember of them they benefit from having more explicit horror elements which makes the stakes much more engaging. I recall the weasels trying to weasel their way into a crypt full of horrible pitfalls and finding it very tense as a kid.

There is once again a sympathetic-unsympathetic species divide - weasels are our plucky heroes, while stoats tend to be aristocratic and cruel. However, it does play out a little differently: the first three books are in a medieval fantasy setting with explicit magic, but over the course of the novels, the mustelids manage to rediscover humans, leading to a timeskip forward into a more steampunk setting where the animals and humans have built a joint society together.

Honestly, I would quite like to reread these books! They may well not hold up today, but it would be fun to revisit them.

The Deptford Mice series by Robin Jarvis - author of Deathscent, a highly memorable novel in which Elizabethans have been transported by aliens into a space archipelago where all the animals are robots which run on the four humours - is a pretty fun one, although my memory is very foggy. It's set in our world, in London, and as I recall the first book involves an evil cat wizard attempting to resurrect the Bubonic Plague from the plague pits. I recall a scene in which rats dig up the plague pit and have their paws melted by the lime coating it. Beyond that I can recall very little but I definitely think it merits inclusion in this list of rat fic.

Once again we have the good rodent/evil rodent problem. Mice and rats are almost identical creatures, so it's weird that the sympathetic/unsympathetic divide falls so consistently.

Mouse Guard is an American comic series about mice with little cloaks and swords. Making it be a comic is kind of a great idea because you get to see how cute they are at every turn. The mouse guard are responsible for defending the other mice from threats such as snakes. They have a pretty high mortality rate.

I'm... actually not super familiar with the comics, but they inspired a roleplaying game by the creators of Burning Wheel, using similar mechanics - e.g. its beliefs system, the simultaneous-resolution combat system. That got a lot of buzz around the late 2010s. So if you want a game to play as an rat at the tabletop, it's probably a good one to check out!

We might also at this juncture mention the wildly popular novel Watership Down, which imagines an elaborate rabbit society complete with a substantially fleshed out rabbit religion. I wrote about the animated film for Animation Night a couple years back - it's quite a memorable one.

Sadly, this is mostly mousefic (with a bit of weaselfic). I don't know of any true ratfic - centred on rats as protagonists. Perhaps this is an opportunity for someone out there to write ratfic ratfic to correct this imbalance.

edit: omfg i forgot the rats of NIMH. thanks to both the people who reminded me of that one

#fiction #novels

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 3 months

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Predator and Prey: Chapter One

Pairing: Tommy Cahill x Reader

Ongoing Series - Loosely based on ‘Sleeping With the Enemy’

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors do not interact, Slow Burn, War Inaccuracies, Mention of PTSD but barely, Stalking, Abuse, Sexual Themes, Alcohol, I think that’s it?

Summary: You move to a small town following a bad breakup around the time Tommy goes to Prison, 3 years later you meet and build a relationship, but will your jealous, angry ex ever really let you go?

Notes: Hiiii! This is my first fic since I was like, 13? So apologies if I’ve missed anything! I’m also UK based trying to write as an American so writing styles and words may differ, but I do try! I just feel like we need more Jake Gyllenhaal fics, and I love a slow burn and some thrills so enjoy! Reblogs and comments welcome :)

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You groaned as your phones alarm clock chimed on your bedside table, the repetitive high pitched dings already putting you in a bad mood for the day.

You slammed your hand on your phone and blindly prodded the screen in the hopes of turning it off, eventually managing to hit the correct spot.

You lay in your dark room, preparing yourself to get up and out of bed for your day of work. It was only Tuesday but it had already been a long week.

After getting dressed, brushing your teeth and hair, and putting on a little bit of makeup, you set out the door. It was still dark out and the only light illuminating the street ahead was from the old street lights that lined the pavement.

The walk to work was only 10 minutes long, but that morning it felt a lot longer, as you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. You turned around to check if anyone was around several times, finding nothing but the odd cat or trash can lining the street.

You eventually made it to work and had enough time to make yourself a cup of coffee before flipping the ‘Closed’ sign to ‘Open’.

The day was slower than normal with very few customers walking into your little book store, which was something you could understand with the town being as small as it was, but you had a few regular book worms who would frequent your shop due to the lack of a library in the area. You bided your time by straightening the shelves and readjusting the pillows on the couches in each of the cosy corners by the windows, counting down the minutes and hours until you could close up and go home to your dog, just to do it all again the next day.

On Wednesday evenings your store played host to a soup kitchen due to the large prep area in the back, as your store was once a small Chinese Restaurant before you bought it. You’d agreed to it being used when your store was closed but soon found yourself volunteering to help chop up vegetables and serve, and you enjoyed it more than you thought you would, making it a recurring Wednesday tradition, so at least tomorrow you’d have something to keep yourself busy with.

It wasn’t all bad though, the time you had on your hands. Most afternoons once you had closed up shop, you’d take your dog, Jet, down to the local park to play fletch. Or you’d catch up on your own reading, or try a new recipe only for it to cost you more than takeout and taste nothing like what you’d hoped. It did get lonely though, with the only family you had living on opposite ends of the country, at times you’d considered moving closer to them, but you’d come to love the little town you’d stumbled across 3 years ago.

You’d only moved here from New York when your breakup with Jason had reached boiling point, with him knowing all of your friends, rumours about you soon spread and it became unbearable to stay. He had started stalking you and had your friends keep tabs on everywhere you went, eventually you even opted to forego all social interactions. You had welcomed the fresh start, and once you’d blocked Jason’s number you could finally begin to move on.

One time he had written you a letter after having found your new address on a piece of mail with your forwarding address attached, which somehow made its way to your old apartment instead. The letter was full of threats, demeaning words and also promises of a better life if you returned, but you dismissed these as empty threats, threw away the letter and got on with creating your new life.

You were just about to close up shop early, when the ding of the bell above the door sounded. You turned around to see a tall, dark haired man with a buzzcut, white t-shirt and a brown jacket walk in. You noticed a small tattoo on his neck.

“Hi, are you after anything specific?” You asked with a small smile, trying not to seem overbearing.

The man smiled politely, but didn’t maintain eye contact for long, and went back to scanning the low shelves near the front door.

“No I’m fine, thank you though.” He said. His voice was deep and gruff, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“Okay, just let me know if you need anything.” You smiled back, and turned back to the counter where you were organising receipt rolls and pens. You hated it when you went into a store to browse and the staff lingered, so had never done this to your own customers, giving them space.

After a minute or two, the man cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Actually, sorry, yeah. I’m after a book on PTSD, like how to manage it and stuff, do you have anything like that?” He said, rubbing the back of his head as he looked up at you sheepishly.

Oh, perhaps he was one of those army guys, who had seen some horrible things in the war.

“Uhh, yeah we do actually. It’s just overrr…. Here!” You said walking over to a shelf on the left of the store, under the “self help” section.

“We only have the one though, I’m not sure if it will be much help?” You said handing him the book.

“Thanks.” He said, taking the book and scanning over the cover, “It’s not for me.” He added, looking awkward.

“Say no more.” You smiled and laughed a little to ease the tension he may have been feeling.

You walked back to the counter and waited for the man to follow. He took out a twenty dollar bill and waited for you to ring up how much the book would cost. You thought for a moment, and decided to do your one good thing that day.

“Uhh…. It looks like we don’t actually have the book in our system, and no price is showing up, I guess it’s free.” You lied, laughing lightly and pushing his twenty back to him.

The man thought for moment and looked you in the eye. “You really don’t need to do that, I promise the book’s not for me anyway. It’s for my brother.” He shrugged.

“Well then I guess your brother gets a free book.” You smiled, putting the book in a paper bag and handing it to the man.

He smiled, a genuine and slightly crooked smile, and thanked you. He took one last look at you and went to head out the door.

“Wait!” You called suddenly, your bravery getting the best of you. He turned around.

“I haven’t seen you around before, are you local?” You asked.

“Yeah… I’ve been away for a while. My names Tommy.” He smiled.

“Nice to meet you Tommy. I’m (Y/N), hope to see you around.” You smiled back, and turned to go back to your tidying.

Tommy left feeling happier than he had in a while. He hadn’t had a friendly encounter with the towns folk since coming out of prison, or with his family since Sam came back from Afghanistan and the news had come out that he and Grace had kissed.

Tommy didn’t have feelings for Grace, not real feelings anyway, and he realised this once Sam returned. Tommy chalked it up to the grief they both felt having thought he had died, as well as the happiness he felt when he was in a family environment. No, the only feelings Tommy had for Grace now were guilt, and he struggled to be around them.

He had decided to buy a book on how to manage PTSD so he knew how to handle Sam, who was due to come home from his stay at the psychiatric unit. Tommy felt sad that things had become so hard for Sam, and he was determined to not make things any worse.

Your act of kindness towards Tommy had turned a bad day around, and as he drove home that evening, he couldn’t help but think about the warm smile and beautiful eyes that he found at the little bookstore on the corner.

You had just closed up the shop, and began to walk home as the light dipped behind the horizon, casting the sky in a blue haze, the street lights had since flickered on and you watched your shadow grow large and then small as you passed under each one. Jet’s dog walker would have left around 3 hours ago and you bet he’d be itching for another walk, so hurried as fast as you could.

About a block from home you stopped suddenly as your breath caught in your throat and your heart sped up. You could hear footsteps close behind, and the they were closing the gap between you quickly. You spun around prepared to come face to face with an attacker or someone hoping to snatch your measly purse, but were met with an empty sidewalk dimly lit by street lamps and lined with trees.

You strained your eyes for any movement, but eventually convinced yourself you were being paranoid, and speed walked the rest of the way home, only letting your breath go once you were safely inside and you had locked your door.

———————

-Chapter Two Here-

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal gif #quentin beck #character: elwood dalton #david loki #gyllenhaaledit #jake gyllenhaal gifs #jacob gyllenhaal #jacob benjamin gyllenhaal #donnie darko #jack twist #pilot kelson #jake gyllenhaal x reader #Tommy Cahill x reader

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lestappenforever · 6 months

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Overview & introduction

My name is Mona, I'm 29 years old and Norwegian. I've been watching Formula 1 for 20 years and first got into F1 because of the man, the myth, the legend that is Kimi Räikkönen. I've been a Red Bull girl since the team first came into F1 due to my unhealthy love for and obsession with Red Bull the energy drink. I'm also a huge Liverpool FC fan and I love cats.

This blog is, obviously, mostly all about Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc, and the beautiful ship that is Lestappen, whom I sometimes write fanfics about. There will occasionally be other content making an appearance as well, but for the most part this blog is all about Lestappen.

Below you will find a selection of commonly used and popular tags on my blog for your convenience.

Lestappen asks

Lestappen asks <- All asks related to Lestappen

Lestappen dynamics anons <- All asks related to anons talking about Lestappen dynamics

Recurring specific Lestappen anons

Body language anon <- All asks related to my wonderful body language anon

Social-psychological anon <- All asks related to my wonderful social-psychological anon

Monza anons <- All asks related to my wonderful Monza anons, that lead to the existence of this fic

Mexico anons <- All asks related to my wonderful Mexico anons

Lestappen fics

My AO3 account <- Where you can all my fics

Lestappen drabbles <- Drabbles I've written about Lestappen

My writing <- Any and all posts related to fics/drabbles I've written/am writing

About yours truly

Personal <- Any and all posts about myself

Other recurring tags

Lestappen <- Any and all posts about Lestappen

Max Verstappen <- Any and all posts about Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc <- Any and all posts about Charles Leclerc

F1 memes <- Any and all F1 memes

#Personal #Pinned post

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geniuscomediae · 4 months

Text

Hi guys, I wrote a silly tiny self-indulgent gerrymichael fic!

AO3

warnings: internalized transphobia

She is cute and bubbly and shy and lovely, and something feels off about her. Gerry applies all of his knowledge about the supernatural to try and figure out whether something is wrong with her, he tries to warn Gertrude – she brushes his worries off, wich is unusual of her – and even manages to investigate her past and present, but finds nothing. She seems like a normal person, who just so happened to be the youngest and weirdest archival assistant he has ever seen.

Gerry knows she is twenty, – a year and a half older than him – she is both intelligent and academically smart, she likes Shakespeare and ABBA, she likes cats more than dogs and prefers tea over coffee. Digging through everything he can find about her Gerry finds out there were recurring incidents with a strange door in her childhood that almost made her psychiatrist she sees once every three months diagnose her with schizophrenia, but something convinced him otherwise. As far as Gerry is aware, she doesn't know it was the Spiral; she isn't aware of the Dread Powers at all, wich is worrying, because how the fuck didn't Gertrude think about telling her? Girl might be in danger if she's chosen by the Spiral. Gerry feels strange, he wants to protect her, he finds a strange resemblance in her even though they are completely different.

One day he finds her on her break in the library, sitting on the floor with a notebook and doodling. A cup of herbal tea she brings wuth her from home sits beside her, visibly cold and forgotten. He catches a glimpse of a page of her notebook with one name written several times, before she slams it shut and looks up at him, unsuccessfully trying to hide fear and shame.

"Good afternoon, Gerard," – she is, as always, polite and formal, even though they formed some sort of workplace friendship over the year. Gerry wonders if she would be less if he was officially employed, – "did you want something from me? I'm on my break right now, but I will gladly help you."

"No, no, don't worry", he waves his hand dismissively and sits down next to her. She anxiously fixes her sweater and he notices that something is even more off than usually.

"Actually, I'm here to talk. About a serious matter."

"Oh."

She looks almost as if she's in panic. She drags her knees to her chest, and Gerry finally notices what his mind ringed as wrong: it looks... Flatter. Not like she has lost some weight – Gerry doesn't think she should, but she told him once she doesn't feel comfortable in her body – but like something is flattening it.

"I- I didn't-" she stutters and tries to squirm further from him, but he interrupts her.

"It will probably sound invasive, but who is Michael?"

She freezes and he tries to fix whatever damage he has just dealt.

"Look, Curls, I'm an asshole and I work for the paranormal research institute and shit felt wrong about you since the day we met, so I investigated you. I was worried you might be a... a doppelganger, and your remarks about you feeling unwell in your body, and the talk we had about the superpowers and you picking the shapeshifting, and when I was sure you are a normal human being I started worrying you are stalked by something paranormal, and..."

He catches a breath, and she looks at him with wide eyes.

"And if you feel like this Michael, whoever he is, is a danger, you can tell me. Even if he's just a weird guy who makes you uncomfortable. I'm your friend after all, am I not? And... And I like you, and you know I don't give this kind of affection away easily, and I just want you to be safe, okay?"

The silence is almost deafening while she adjusts her glasses.

"Well..." she starts carefully, "You don't have to worry about Michael. And- and about me. I'm just... I don't know."

They sit in sikence again for some time.

"Can I trust you?" she asks suddenly, eyes slightly watery and lips pressed into a thin line.

"Of course. You can trust me with anything, Curls, I'm great at keeping secrets."

"I think I might not be a girl," she mutters, gripping the edge of her sweater. "I always felt good when I was mistaken for a boy. I know I'm soft and I like girly things, and skirts look good on me, and I love my hair long, but I'm just chasing this image of me that strangers will take for a young man and... And I hate my life so much."

He is looking away from Gerry the whole time he is speaking, on the verge of tears and trembling. Gerry reaches out and carefully hugs him, drawing him closer.

"Don't worry, Curls, I know what it feels like."

"Do you... Do you think you should be a girl?" he asks, wiping off tears from his cheeks.

"Holy fuck, no," Gerry laughes, shaking his head. "Been there, done that, not my cup of tea. I'm the same way you are, definitely not a girl."

Gerry feels so easy, almost as if he was drunk. This whole time the strange feeling about his almost-coworker was just a going off trans radar, not a subconscious awareness of paranormal shit or anything like that. He laughes again and pats him on the head.

"So," they say together and both stop, waiting for the other. Gerry gestures, inviting him to continue.

"About you liking me," he mumbles, blushing and looking away again. "Will that change now that you know I'm weird?.."

"Hell no, I like both girls and boys. Actually, I think I only like boys, since I was sure you were a first girl I fell for. Well, silly me. Okay, my turn: I'm not sure if I'm right, but I suppose you'd like me to call you Michael?"

"Yeah," he nods, smiling softly. "I would quite like it."

"So, Michael, are you free tonight?"

#tma #the magnus archives #michael shelley #gerry keay #gerard keay #gerrymichael #trans michael shelley #trans gerry keay #they're t4t.#thats it thsts the fic #tma fanfic

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girlfailure-smut-hour · 8 months

Text

Satan's Favorite Coffee Shop

Nsfw content MDNI

Characters: Satan X GN!Reader, Earth!AU

CW: Nipple play, Oral (Giving and receiving,) Penetration (Receiving.) Very romantic. Like, there's not even so much as a kiss for the first third of the story. Reader's gender is not mentioned, ambiguous gentials.

A/N: This is kind of a recurring fantasy of mine. Just meeting some cute, soft boy at a coffee shop who sweeps me off my feet. We all long for the excitement of new love sometimes. Besides I'm weak for a soft boy who loves books and cats. I wanted to write a sort of burgeoning romance. Sorry it's kind of long! I hope you still enjoy it! MC meets Satan at a coffee shop and they quickly fall in love. ~3600 words.

Please check out my fic masterlist <3

It was your first time at this coffee shop. It was a beautiful day and one of the first cool days of the year. The brightly shining sun filtered through the vibrant trees outside. A great day to settle down with a book and a cup of coffee.

It’s not long after you find your seat and get a drink before the clingling bells of the door draw your attention to the person walking through it. He’s sharply dressed in a sweater vest with a book tucked beneath his arm. His soft blonde hair gets tousled in the change of pressure between the street and indoors. He has a cute face that looks gentle, yet troubled.

“Satan!” One of the workers greets him as he walks up to the counter. Satan? You think. Is that really his name? You watch him place his order and to your surprise sit across from you. Though he doesn’t say anything, he gives you a pleasant smile. Your heart is already fluttering. You can faintly smell his cologne over the coffee; a pleasant, almost floral scent.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he opens his book: Some 19th century romance novel. It only makes you wonder more about him.

You don’t know what to say, but you know you have to say something. You have to talk to this boy. “So do you come here a lot?” You ask. You only realize what you just said after it comes out of your mouth. Like some kind of stereotypical pickup line. You blush and hope he doesn’t think anything of it.

He looks up, meeting your eyes with his gentle gaze. “It’s my favorite place,” He says with a smile. But there’s something else there. Something hidden deep within. It’s impossible to decipher, but this boy is a sea of emotions.

"Do you always read those kinds of books?" You ask.

"Old books or romantic ones?" He asks. "Both. I read lots of other kinds of books as well."

"What other kinds of books do you like, then?"

"All of them," he laughs.

You sit there across from him and just stare into his radiant green eyes. You wonder if he can tell how lovestruck you are. You're aware of the awkward silence, but by the time you've realized, you've already begun to ask, "did… that person call you Satan?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes and your heart sinks a little. It was a stupid question, one he probably gets a lot. You wonder if you may have shot your chances with him altogether. "It's my name," he says.

"I like it!" You reply.

This brightens him a little. "Well thank you," he says, smiling. "People can be weird about it."

The two of you chat for a while. You talk about hobbies, work, cats, everything. He hardly gets a chance to read with how much you're talking. You hope it's a good sign that he doesn't seem upset at all that he's barely been able to do what he came here to do.

Before you even realize it, the sun has begun to set, and a dazzling marigold hue has settled over the coffee shop. Satan looks out through the window and a sudden jolt runs through him.

"Oh my goodness I didn't notice the time," he says. "I really need to get home."

"Oh," you say subconsciously sticking your lip out in a pout.

"Will you be here again?" He asks.

"If you will," you reply.

"It's a date," he says with a smile. You feel a fluttering in your heart at his utterance of the word 'date.' Suddenly acknowledging the connection you made here today puts a rock in your stomach, but also fills it with butterflies. "Same time tomorrow?" He asks.

"Yeah!" You answer. "I'll see you then!"

He throws a scarf around his neck and starts to walk out. He looks back at you and smiles warmly. You wave to him as the door closes behind with a click and tinny jingle.

You sit there, kicking your feet excitedly as you think fondly of the wonderful day you had talking with Satan, accidentally spending most of the waking day together, even though you were strangers just hours ago.

~~~~

You're right back in your spot the next day and you've ordered your coffee as well as Satan's before he even gets there. You're a little early, but the excitement was too much for you. It was impossible to just sit around waiting to see him. Of course there was no guarantee he would even really be there, a thought that put a pit in your stomach. You didn't get his number so if he didn't come you might not ever even see him again.

Obsessively watching the outside, you see him through the windows before you even hear the door. It takes all of your Willpower not to stand and throw your arms around him. You can't help but notice that he hasn't brought a book today.

Of course he's looking as cute or perhaps even more so today. He seems to have taken extra care of his hair and is wearing a very nice sweater vest that compliments his stunning eyes well.

You wave at him and he smiles back at you. He sits down and you push his cup of coffee toward him. "I got you a drink," you say. "It's what you got yesterday."

He smiles as he goes to take the handle and his fingers brush yours as he does. He blushes and so do you, yanking your hand away in surprise and embarrassment. Under the table you shift your legs a little in excitement at his touch.

"Thank you," he says. "For the drink."

"Of course," you say.

There's a lull in the conversation. Suddenly, with stakes to the day, it was much more nerve-wracking than the day before where you were just talking to a (very handsome) stranger. This was a date and that was scarier.

"I brought pictures of my cat," he says, pulling out his phone. You beam as he begins to swipe through his gallery showing you all of the many pictures he'd taken.

With that, the pressure dissipated and suddenly the two of you were talking with ease again. You can hardly shut up around him. Words flow out of you like a faucet. It's so easy talking to him in spite of the fact that he's so eloquent and gorgeous.

He makes sure to cut things before it gets too late this time saying, "I really don't want to leave, but I do need to get home."

"I understand," you reply. "When do you want to meet again?"

"If it's okay with you," he begins, "I'd like to have you over to my house."

Your heart skips a beat. It's kind of serious to be invited over. Is it really okay? In spite of your nerves you blurt out "yes!"

"Okay," he smiles. "Then tomorrow for dinner? Maybe 6:00?"

"It's a date," you say, giggling.

You both stand up from the table and walk out onto the street. There's a sweet smell from the nearby trees and flowers that blends well with Satan's cologne. It's enough to set your heart aflutter, and as you look at him, he's blushing.

"I think I want to kiss you," he says.

You start a bit, crimson blush spreading across your face in an instant. As you regain your composure you look down and kick nervously at the ground, saying, "I'd like that."

He puts a soft finger under your chin and tilts your face up to his. You catch a whiff of old paper from his hands. The wind rushes for a second before falling perfectly still as you lose yourself in those emerald eyes of his. Your heart skips a beat as he leans in and locks his lips to yours. He tastes sweet and a little bitter, like coffee. His lips are surprisingly soft, and they feel amazing against yours. He's passionate, but not too aggressive, acting reserved with his tongue. You melt into him as the world seems to fall away. The sound of wind, people, and vehicles fade to nothing, and all that's left is you and him.

When he pulls away, you're dazed and hardly able to move, let alone think. He smiles, and for the first time you don't see a hint of anything other than happiness in his eyes.

"Tomorrow, right?" He says.

"Y-yeah," you stammer, trying to pull yourself out of the lovestruck daze you're in.

"I'll see you then," He says before placing a quick peck on your cheek and walking away, though the two of you can't help but keep casting gazes back at each other as you walk in opposite directions.

The mere idea of sleep that night is laughable. With memories of that kiss still fluttering about in your head and nervous excitement for the day ahead, all you can do is lay in bed and hope for the best.

~~~~

You can hardly contain your excitement as you knock on his door. From inside you can faintly hear some classical music being played. Something sentimental with long, bowed strings.

As he opens the door, the scents of his house wash over you. Delicious cooking, his cologne, and the smell of old paper, like a used bookstore. “Satan!” You exclaim in excitement as you throw your arms around him.

“I’m glad you made it,” He says, holding you close. You rest your head on his chest, nuzzling slightly into his vest.

He steps aside and the two of you walk into the house. It’s warm and inviting with cat trees and book shelves covering nearly every wall.

He takes the time to introduce you to his cats before returning to the kitchen to cook saying, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

You follow him and watch from the doorway as he puts the finishing touches on a delicious looking stew. He catches you staring at him and giggles, smiling back at you. You blush a bit.

“You can sit down if you’d like,” He says, gesturing to the dining room. “I’ll just be another minute.”

You take a seat at the table and notice that the music has stopped. He appears in the other room, opens the record player, and flips the disc. As the music resumes, he is already walking into the dining room with bowls of stew.

“I hope you like it,” He says.

You take a bite and it’s one of the most delicious things you’ve ever tasted. “Oh my god this is delicious,” You say. “How are you so good at everything?”

He laughs. “I’m glad you like it.”

You don’t talk much over dinner, but you still have a hard time keeping your eyes off of him.

When you finish, he stands and takes the bowls to the kitchen, saying, “Why don’t you sit on the couch?”

You get up and as he walks into the room, he hands you a cup of coffee as if to say We won’t be sleeping much tonight anyway. You blush and shake your head, trying to dissipate those dirty thoughts, but it’s not much use. You squirm a little, rubbing your legs together, and hope he doesn’t notice.

“Thank you,” You say, taking the warm mug. He sets his own cup on the table and quickly changes the record over to another gentle, romantic suite.

As he sits next to you on the couch you can’t stop blushing and the butterflies in your stomach won’t stop fluttering. He’s talking, but you’re having a hard time focusing on anything but his lips.

Suddenly, he leans forward to kiss you, running the back of his hand softly against your cheek. As your lips connect he starts to push you a little, kissing a little harder and more passionately than he has before. He lowers you until your back is flat on the couch. His hands trace a path from your arms to your wrists to your hands, linking fingers with you. He pulls away and caresses your cheek again, pushing a lock of hair out of your face.

“I still haven’t shown you my room,” He softly says.

You swallow in excitement. It’s hard to keep up with him. You’re left panting already from the events of the night as he puts your hands on his arms and lifts you by the elbows. Taking your hand, he guides you to a room in the back of the house.

Your heart is pounding as he opens the door. It’s a nice room, dimly lit by a single lamp with a beautiful, large bed sitting against the back wall. A soft and plush comforter is draped over the bed, pulled tight and folded over at the top, giving it a very put-together look.

You turn to him, and he’s already leaning in to kiss you, clasping your cheeks with both hands. He runs his hands from your face, down your chest and to the hem of your shirt. You feel him grab and start to pull up. As the shirt comes over your head, you blush, catching him looking you up and down with some mixture of raw lust and gentle adoration. You grab his sweater vest and pull it over his head before he brings you back into a kiss. You slowly undo each of his shirt buttons, making your way down to his pants. As the last button pops, you push his shirt over his shoulders and it slides off of his arms, onto the floor. You start on his pants button next, and you can’t help but notice how tight his pants have gotten.

You’re getting frantic now, excitement welling up in you as you fumble his pants button. When it pops open you quickly rip the zipper down before grabbing his pants and boxers and tearing them off in one frenzied movement. You feel tingling excitement between your legs as you grip his hard cock and start to stroke it. He moans into your mouth as he removes your pants.

“Satan, I need you,” You say as you pull away and drop down onto your knees. Now at eye-level with his cock, any reservations you had left have melted away. You lean forward and lick the tip, prompting a bead of precum to leak out. Your lips pull his head into your mouth, and you feel him twitch in excitement.

He moans your name and says, “That feels so good.”

You look up at him with pleading eyes as you press on, feeling his length fill your mouth. You enjoy the warm, full feeling of his cock, but especially enjoy his moans. His voice is soft, and his moans escape his mouth with a sort of whimpering shudder that conveys a desperate need for you and only you.

You run your mouth all over his erection, swirling your tongue around the tip and sticking it out when you suck him down to the base. You rub his legs as you go down on him, feeling the capable muscles twitch with each thrust of your head. Running your hands around the back of his legs, up to his ass, then to his strong back. You pull him into you, feeling his cock press against the back of your throat and he moans out in surprise.

He puts his hands on your arms, signaling you to stand, so you slowly pull off of his cock, your mouth making a popping sound as the suction is broken. He helps you to your feet and guides you to the bed.

You crawl up on the soft bedding and lay on your back with your head on the pillow. He crawls over you, panting in excitement. He looks at you like he wants to eat you. A ferocious, feral kind of desire lingers in his eyes as he leans in to kiss you, running his hands over every inch of your body. His hands seek you out in clingy, desperate motions as your tongue flicks against his.

He moves away from your lips and begins to nibble on your ear. His breath hitches as you reach down and stroke his cock a little. He moans in your ear and says “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you in that coffee shop.”

You giggle and squeeze him gently, “I wanted you more.”

He moans and kisses down your neck, making his way to your chest and gradually to your nipples. He encloses your nipple in his warm mouth and flicks his tongue against it vigorously, pinching the other gently between his finger and thumb. You moan, the tingling in your chest spreading downward to other regions.

He moves down to your tummy, kissing every inch of you. He treats your body as sacred, worshiping you. The way he touches you, looks at you… It’s like you’re the most blindingly radiant thing he’s ever seen. At times he holds you like a priceless, rare book that could fall apart at the slightest touch, and at others he just wants to squeeze and grope you.

It’s not long before he moves down to your legs and you’re already squirming, rubbing your legs together, and arching your back. He kisses up and down your legs. The tops at first, then drifting to the soft and sensitive inner thighs. Each wet, passionate kiss leaves a trail to your most sensitive spot, before stopping and moving to the other side. As he gets closer he bites softly on your fleshy inner thigh causing you to yelp in surprise and excitement. You feel a throbbing in your genitals just in time for him to bury his head between your legs.

Your back arches and you let out one long whiny moan as he finally makes contact with his tongue. He licks up and down, appreciating every part of you while you writhe at each flick of his tongue. He’s as good as he is passionate. You can’t help but reach down and play with his hair. His soft locks feel as soft as air between your fingers. You feel him shudder between your legs as you continue to run your hands through his hair and squeeze his cheeks between your thighs.

You remove one hand from his hair to clutch the sheets. He takes your curled fingers and undoes them to link fingers with you. You can hardly take it anymore, moaning and twitching in rapidly increasing pitch and frequency. He keeps going at the same pace, knowing that you’re close and after a matter of seconds you let out one long, shuddering moan as waves of pleasure wash over you. You tremble underneath him, squeezing his hand and gripping his hair tightly in a clenched fist.

As the orgasm passes over you, you release his hair and before you even realize, he’s already crawled over you, coming face to face. His arms sit on either side of your head as he stares into you with those beautiful, mossy eyes of his. He leans in for a quick kiss. At the same time, he feels down at your entrance and positions his cock there. “Are you ready?” He asks through haggard breath.

You nod and he presses slowly into you. Biting your lip, you hold back an especially loud moan as his cock slides into you. You feel yourself clench around the base of his cock as he presses all the way in. His length fills you completely, pressing against your walls.

When he starts to thrust it’s almost too much. He starts slowly at first, feeling him slide in and out, you can already feel an orgasm building back up. It’s when he starts to thrust harder that you can’t hold it in anymore. Loud moans that could be misinterpreted as screams by an outside observer erupt from your mouth as he rails you.

“Satan,” You moan. “You feel so good.” It comes out in bursts and moans as each thrust sends a vibration through your body.

He smiles as he grunts with each thrust. Beads of sweat are building up on his forehead with how intensely he’s fucking you. You’re getting closer with each thrust and as a bead of sweat falls from his nose, landing on your lips, you know you can’t take much more. The salty, sweet taste of him puts you right up to the edge and you moan “I’m going to cum again.”

“Me too,” He says. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he kisses you, thrusting into you a few more times, hard. You let a squeaky, orgasmic moan out into his mouth as you start to cum. Feeling his cock pulse pushes you over the edge, as a swell of hot cum flows from his throbbing length. The kiss only enhances the orgasm and you ride it for longer than expected as he pushes his load into you.

You hold the kiss for a while, the two of you locked in bliss. You feel his cock start to soften before he even starts to pull out. When he’s out you can feel his cum spill out from your twitching insides. He pushes it back inside with his fingers before laying down next to you on his back.

“Oh my god that was amazing,” You say.

“Yeah,” He pants. He kisses you again before you lay your head on his still sweat-damp chest. You moan softly, simply enjoying the feeling of his skin against yours. You can feel your eyelids getting heavy as you lay there. He runs his fingers through your hair, and before you know it, you’re asleep.

#obey me smut #obey me Satan X Reader #obey me Satan smut #Satan smut #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me x reader #om! Satan #obey me Satan #Satan x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb

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spyglahass · 4 months

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Scosage is so funny to me in how they are have a recurring theme opposites who meet in the middle at points somehow

Empires s1: Red and Blue, Demon's Champion and Good God's Champion, dog behavior and cat behavior, yet both overcompensate for their mistakes, they both show an overconfident face that hides the pain of their traumas

Afterlife (oh my god Afterlife): The whole vampire murders angel then angel comes back a grimreaper was * cheff kiss *, then reaper dies and becomes a superhero (with a blue outfit so hi again red and blue dynamic), then vampire comes back a fucking angel while sausage comes back a god and then scott comes back a merling, someone who needs water while sausage cant touch water without getting damage? the angst fuel (also shameless promotion her cuz my partner actually wrote a fic about that :3c)

Empires s2 i admit didnt have as much going for the opposites theme but theme having the matching tattoos was <3

Pirates smp: Sausage is rich, Scott likes rich men. Sausage hides his trauma, Scott doesnt even realize he has trauma

sorry if this is nonsense. is just this fuckers have been living rent free in my brain for almost 2 years (hell already reached the point where im stealing their s1 characters to make my own ocs... h e l p)

GODS YESSSSSSSSS YOU GET IT

also s1 the whole how both of them are religious but in different ways with Aeor and the blood sheep and all that and how DIFFERENT that alone makes them--

please the afterlife- dude. The whole reason i even began shipping them fr

(and I'm pretty sure I read that fic !!! I'm not sure but either way I will be reading it again for sure)

oh and dont apologize !! that's exactly what I needed to read today- someone that GETS IT (i am not at that point with them but with s1 fwhimmy? god they are gotta be my ocs at this point i swear)

#honestly if you wanna send more nonsence #or talk #dude be my guest #glass answers

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fallenclan · 4 months

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SORRY BACKREADING STILL. DRAGON YOUR MAPLEFIC FUCKS LIKE ALL HELL AND THE CHARACTERIZATION THROUGHOUT IS WHOLLY DELIGHTED IN BUT IF YOU WILL FORGIVE ME A MOMENT OF PURE FAVORITISM I DELIGHT IN THE SUNWISH MOMENTS NEAR THE HEAD... GOD THOUGH. OHHHGH THE GRIEF THE PROCESSION OF IT ALL THE WAY CONNECTIONS STRING THROUGH AND PULL THE CATS OF THE CLAN TOWARDS EACH OTHER LIKE A DELICATE AND UNSHAKEABLE SPIDERS WEB. OFT IN THESE FICS YOU WHO WRITE NAIL THAT DELIGHTFULLY AND KNOW WELL ALL WHO DO THAT IT FUXKS

(- 🐈‍⬛) (SORRY FOR RECURRING ASKS. DIPS MY HEAD TO YOU)

IT DOES ITS SO FUCKING GOOD

#fallenasks #black cat anon

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tavyliasin · 5 months

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I liked it thank you but I’m confused will there always be something like a threesome with Haarlep? As you mentioned him for the Raphael headcons? ❤️ would you rather Raphael or Haarlep? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Oooh well now that's an interesting one. I can't truly separate the two in my mind, their stories are so finely entwined, it's like they have been married for longer than they can remember. Or perhaps something akin to what marriage might be for two such as them~ However, I have written just Raphael and Tav on their own too. As well as the huge Halloween orgy with Haarlep, oh that one was so delicious to work on it practically wrote itself through feverish fingers~ As a summary of my Cambion and Incubus content on my AO3: ATG 4 - Dream? Nightmare Raphael and Tav meet in a "dream", alone. There's no sex, but there's longing and tension, a building of their dynamic. ATG 7 - Love? Lust Raphael and Haarlep, showing their dynamic on their own together, with some hints of how Raphael is feeling about Tav ATG 9 - Mouse? Rat and ATG 10 - Cat? Claw In 9, Tav arrives at the House of Hope desperate to find help for a missing companion, but what she finds instead is an incubus with the same voice as the cambion she was looking for and an interesting offer. 10 is where Raphael comes home to find Tav in his bed with his incubus, and ends up joining in. ATG 11 - Deal? Done and ATG 12 - Friday? Freaky In 11, a bored Haarlep has a devious plot and entices Tav into joining. She's not sure why she agrees at first, but the details of the deal are far enough in her favour to be worthwhile. 12 is the continuation where Haarlep's plan comes to fruition as the pair of them trick Raphael. This one is a personal favourite for the plot and how the little game plays out for all 3.

Tricks and Treats in the House of Hope This is a Halloween special, in which Haarlep invites Halsin, Tav, and Astarion to join their masquerade party. Raphael is there, but not as active a participant as he might want to be... This one is "the orgy special" as we have group sex with the 4 main mentions. The Sleepless Dream This one is a standalone one shot of Haarlep x Reader, where they're appearing as your sleep paralysis demon. Short, only a little spicy, and maybe inspired by a bout of insomnia. The Mouse Trap Pure Dom Raphael with a bratty f!Tav. Just wish fulfilment for those who prefer an entirely Dominant cambion flavour compared to my usual Spicy Switch writing for him. Gala of the Damned A prequel to the game events, this is Raphael and Haarlep in their standard interactions together. The push and pull of Raphael holding the power, until they are back in the bedroom in the House of Hope, the place where Haarlep has all of the control in their claws once more and can take revenge. Tavylia's Short Drabbles Requests and practice shorts that didn't become full length fics, but deserved to be preserved and shared. Our fiends appear in chapters 1, 3, 4, and 6 so far. I even wrote the "canon accurate" of "Raphael is bad in bed" as a request for this and I hated it but wanted it to be fun anyway.

OK that is my entire catalogue (so far) of works featuring Raphael and/or Haarlep - each title is a link to the AO3 page where you can find the whole work. ATG is a larger series with ongoing continuity, which is available as single chapter works collected into a series, or there is one single work with all the chapters put together but I found that one doesn't allow for accurate tagging of each chapter unfortunately. If you, or anyone else reading this, has a request fic for pretty much any main/major/recurring characters (other than Dammon and Minsc, who I will only write SFW for), please do let me know. I have a few on my list to get through, but I find them fun and enjoyable whether they stay as a short drabble or grow to a full size work. Anyway that's more than enough from me on this one darlings I could talk about this all night, I have only been writing smut since late September, and I have 28 unique works which total likely over 100k words by now. My next release will be Abdirak x He Who Was which is still being written and already over 6,000 words. What can I say, loves, I'm enjoying their dynamic...

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #bg3 tav #ao3fic #a tav's guide #bg3 raphael #haarlep #I write so much fic it's ridiculous #this is how I live now #just smut all the way down #go back to early September and tell me I would be here now and I would have laughed so hard #I owe a lot of it to the community particularly discord for some amazing support #honestly couldn't write without the validation of at least a couple of lovely readers #thank you for enabling me #I hope you enjoy the mess I make with words~#a kudos a day keeps the sadness away

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twinkpriest · 1 year

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Omg.... Please share your headcanons about the goth kids

>:3c mwahahaha i hope youre ready anon (cracks knuckles)

also i need share credit bc all of these were jointly created in my bf @lilachawk and i's dms <3

general:

their group chat is called "the cavern of darkness", they named it that in middle school and never changed it. any time they refer to it in verbal speech they just call is "the cavern"

they do secret santa every year. they draw names from michael's plastic viking helmet

they all definitely have their non-goth-music guilty pleasures but the main one they all have in common is lady gaga. her 2009 vma performance won their respect

they're still decent friends with stan and get invited to his birthday party every year. sometimes they go sometimes they don't

michael:

november scorpio

i'm gonna ignore how all of the houses in town are laid out because i firmly believe he has an attic bedroom. every wall/ceiling surface is covered in posters and stuff. full bookshelves, lots of tchotchkes, old concert ticket stubs, that kinda stuff. maximalism baby!!

gay gay homosexual gay

has a long haired black cat named bella (short for belladonna). rescued her from a snowstorm

him saying his parents were separated in raisins was just him being #edgy & his parents shown in gk3 are his actual parents. they never got divorced. he was raised interfaith jewish and buddhist.

he has ehlers-danlos. i always give him ring splints in my drawings. the cane is actually needed sometimes

drives his dad's old camaro. the engine is really loud and it holds up like shit in the wintertime but he’s secretly really fond of the car

got a part time job at the only respectable record store in town junior year

pete:

water sign. pisces or cancer

only child of a single father who does construction work. his dad doesn't quite understand the goth thing but he's supportive

bi king. had a normie girlfriend in highschool. not for long, but it was still a very weird experience for everyone involved

super into comics, esp indie stuff. dream job is definitely to be a comic book artist

if the shirt+bolo tie wasn't a giveaway, he's lowkey into western vibes/influences. he probably has one of those old dramatically fringed suede jackets that he found in a local goodwill

really puts the Y in diy, probably the best & most creative out of the 4 of them when it comes to altering clothes and making accessories and shit

bites his nails/picks his skin

has a pet rat named boris

a little transmasc pilled if u ask me....

henrietta:

probably a virgo

mean lesbian <3

she stays designated driver for most of high school but later on, her and michael kinda divvy up friend group driving responsibilities. she is still the default though, because when michael drives she’s an intense backseat driver

she drives her mom's horrible subaru most of the time but she 100% would be the person to save up and buy a hearse as her daily car

is always the first to hear about local shows. she just knows people

i looooove the recurring thing in fics where she is the one to dye pete's hair. she does the sally’s run & dyes/trims his hair and in exchange he fixes rips in her clothes or superglues the soles back onto her shoes or something like that

loves those new age crystal incense dragon hippie stores you see in malls. secretly likes the cool fairy statues they sell in them

firkle:

april aries

SUPER into vulture culture. has too many bones and not enough space for them

likes harsh noise music. calms him down

sends the strangest, most esoteric memes in the group chat and the rest of them have no idea where he finds them or what they mean

sorry i have like nothing else for firkle he kinda eludes me

#ask #long post #awooga text dump jumpscare #lilachawk #sp goth kids

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glwingey · 5 months

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guys idk if i’ll ever finish/post my fic, but here’s a excerpt of it 🙌🏼

despite his better judgment, he didn’t shave his face for the second time in a row. not that anything impressive was happening, he discovered during his second year of law school no matter how long he’d grow it out, he’d only get a scrappy scruff at most on his face. so he usually didn’t bother, never letting himself get passed a five o’clock shadow.

but outside circumstances mess up his routine, and by the time he realized, it was too late.

because cooper noticed, and was weirdly attached to it. well, not weirdly. maybe. oliver wasn’t sure.

but cooper would touch his face even more often, running his fingers over and through the dark hair, smiling to himself at it’s prickling. after they would kiss hello or goodbye cooper would purposely rub their faces together like he was a cat or something.

so even though the blonde didn’t verbally approve it, oliver could tell cooper liked it.

he was grateful to look the clock and see that it was pass the time for him to leave, he always stayed late and he figured no one would yell at him if he left now.

so he quickly gathered his things, urgent to get home to his boy.

when he came through the door he could instantly tell the mental plans he had made weren’t happening. cooper greeted him at the door like usual, smiling, but not in his happy-to-see-you way. it looked tighter, less genuine. he kissed oliver all the same, pushing his jacket off for him.

“what’s wrong?” oliver asked him.

cooper shook his head, kissed him again, “nothing,” one more kiss, “my mom’s here.” he whispered.

“what?” oliver whispered-shouted. he’d never met the blonde’s mom, and if he thought about cooper’s dad, he didn’t really have the best track record with meeting the parents. “why?”

cooper shook his head, “she just showed up.” he said helplessly, “she’s been here for half an hour and i’m losing it.”

oliver nodded at him, gesturing him to direct. they ended in the kitchen, where a pretty blonde woman who looked just like cooper sat, cup of tea in her hands. the mug was well worn and loved, one of cooper’s favorites, he wondered if the blonde had given it to her on purpose.

and, based on nothing at all, oliver thought maybe mrs. bradford would be the total opposite of her husband. she’d be as warm and inviting as her son, as kind and sweet. she’d be a bright spot in the bradford’s otherwise dark world, but when he introduced himself and offered a hand he could tell she was as bitter as her tea.

she leveled him with a stare that made him feel like he was being scolded by his mom at age eleven.

“you’re the one that got cooper to run off?” she asked, cooper pushed him into the chair opposite, standing behind him.

he sighed, like this was a recurring conversation.

“i didn’t ‘run off’, mom.” he said.

she waved him off.

“cooper told me your a lawyer.” she said instead, voice cold and solid, like ice.

“yes ma’am. for about two years.”

“well, at least one of you has some sense.” she said, and oliver could feel cooper flinch behind him, his mom must’ve saw because she frowned.

“why are you just standing there? sit down.”

cooper sighed again, walking off to their hallway closet, where they kept a few extra folding chairs incase that had people over. even though he was still in his line of sight, oliver couldn’t help feel like he was trapped with his mother alone. he could feel her gaze, like she was sizing him up.

“what do your parents do?” she asked.

“my dad is a history professor and my mom stays home.” it’s hard to say stay-at-home-mom when there aren’t really any kids there.

she nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

cooper came back, chair in hand. “are you staying for dinner?” he asked, and oliver could hear the ‘please don’t’ in his voice.

“what’re you making?” oliver asked.

“spaghetti, probably.”

mrs. bradford raised her eyebrows, looking at her son, “you’re making it?”

the other blonde nodded.

“so you do know how to do something.”

cooper’s knee shook under the table and oliver could see his jaw clench, he started picking at the table, which seem to anger his mother more.

“stop fidgeting.”

cooper stilled, like a switch was flipped. it was weird, oliver never saw him so motionless. the boy was always moving, tapping his fingers, bouncing his leg, like there was a song in his head only he could hear the beats to.

his mother didn’t lift her glare though, not until she took another sip of tea.

“do you have any siblings, oliver?” she sounded like saying his name was something difficult, or foreign. nothing like when cooper said it.

“two, a older sister and a younger sister.”

she nodded, “that makes sense.”

before he could ask what that meant she began again, “you used to work for my husband.”

“yes.”

“and now you don’t, because of him.” she gestured to her son, who hadn’t moved since she told him not to do so.

“it was my decision.” he said.

she just hummed, “he doesn’t have any money, not yet anyway, he only gets what we give him until he gets married or die. it looks like the latter will be coming first.”

“i have my own money.” and, oliver could marry cooper if he wanted too, but something told him they still wouldn’t give cooper his money.

“right, im sure you do, being a lawyer and all.” she smiled, not kindly, before standing. “i should be going.”

cooper followed her up, “i’ll walk you down.”

“i’ll do it, you can get started on dinner.” oliver spoke before his brain could catch up, hand on his boyfriend’s arm. “don’t worry about it.”

cooper looked to his mother, who seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “that’ll be fine.”

he helped her with her coat and ushered her out the door before she could say anything else about anything, cooper gave a halfhearted wave but otherwise said nothing.

it was a quiet trip down, thankfully, and oliver thought maybe he was in the clear.

“you know, you could find someone a lot better for yourself.”

oliver looked at her sharply, they were on the curb, waiting for a black bradford car cooper used to ride in.

“i don’t think so.”

“you seem like a good man.” she said, confused.

“cooper is plenty good for me, too good for me, in fact. he’s your son, you should know that.”

she waved him off, “i haven’t known that boy in a long time.”

oliver opened his mouth to speak, but her car pulled up and swept her away before he could. he turned back to the building, deciding he’d keep this conversation to himself. usually he’d tell cooper everything, but this didn’t seem like one of those times.

this was proven when he entered the apartment again and saw all the lights off, the extra chair still at the table, along with mrs bradford’s half drank tea, and nothing being cooked.

oliver followed the hallway down to the bedroom, quietly knocking on the door.

“cooper?”

the boy was lying in the dark, facing away, but he half turned at oliver’s voice.

“do you want anything?” oliver asked.

the other boy didn’t respond.

#american housewife #oliver otto #cooper bradford

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kazoosandfannypacks · 3 months

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summary: when sworn academic rivals Belle French and August Booth are put in the same group for a presentation, things get out of hand— not in the predictable arguing or usual banter, but instead in Belle and August spitefully asking each other out on a date.

word count: 6K words (five chapters, all uploaded at once)

a/n: i started this one a while back but finally came around, polished it up, and got it finished for you guys! I wanna warn you going into this that it is horribly out of character, especially since most of my beauty and the puppet fics are very soft, and this one is a bit... crunchier? edgier? anyways, it's great and we love it. shoutout to the loyal and spectacular @kanerallels for betaing!

taglist: @kanerallels @accidental-spice @poptart-cat-78 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @silver-the-phoenix {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Beauty and the Puppet taglist, let me know!}

the first chapter is here, but you can read the full story on ao3!

Calling Bluffs- Chapter 1: the group assignment that doesn't go as planned

If you'd asked August who he'd pick as his partners for this group assignment, he wouldn't've picked the class clown and his academic rival.

If you'd asked Belle to pick her partners, she wouldn't've picked Will— she'd made that mistake before— and she certainly wouldn't've picked the only other student in class whose intellect came close to hers— not nearly her equal, if course, but pretentious enough you wouldn't know the difference.

If you'd asked Will who he'd pick as his partners, he'd've been smart enough not to say the two smartest students in class— the only people on campus stubborn enough to push him to do some of the work himself.

And yet, when Professor Heller announced the team assignments in class last Monday, he put August, Belle, and Will in the same group.

And so, Belle found herself in her dorm room with Will and August, sitting around their textbooks and a bag of chips, trying to work on a presentation about classic American Literature.

"So, what were everyone's ideas for this presentation?" Belle asked.

"Oh?" August said, "you're actually going to condescend to such lowly individuals as anyone-who's-not-you and actually listen to our input?"

"I don't know," Belle rolled her eyes, having already failed at starting this project as professionally as possible, "are you going to share intelligent input?"

"More intelligent than some people here," August glared at Will.

"For your information," Will rushed to his own defense, "I actually do have an idea."

Belle knew Will too well than to suspect this would be a good idea.

"Let's hear it," August said.

"Our report's on great American writers, right?"

"Classic American writers," August corrected.

"Exactly!" Will said, "and who's a more classic writer than famous songwriter Rick Astley? I suggest we start our presentation with…"

Belle cut him off before he could finish vocalizing his stupidity. "We're not rickrolling our classmates."

"You didn't even let me finish!" Will said.

"But was she wrong in her assumption?" August asked.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Will asked, "Literature is all about conveying emotion, and it's hard to put to words that emotion you feel when an inconspicuous link leads to Never Gonna Give You Up."

"We're not gonna rickroll the rest of the class," August said.

"Yeah," Belle agreed with August for the first time that semester, "some of us actually care about our grades."

"A little too much," August said.

"For the sake of diplomacy I'll ignore that hypocrisy," Belle said, trying as she may not to get into one of those petty academic feuds they so often partook in, "did you have any ideas that won't fail us immediately, August?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said, "we pick an author, each of us writing a synopsis about a different aspect about them- such as recurring themes, personal lives and how it affected their literature, or effects on their works in the academic community- and then compile our findings, using the same template for the PowerPoint so it looks like we actually worked together on the project."

"An unexpectedly great idea," Belle said.

"I'm down for it," Will said, "how about I create the PowerPoint while you guys work on the boring stuff?"

"I don't think so," August said, "in a group project, everyone brings something to the table- something more than throwing a PowerPoint together. What exactly do you bring to this group?"

"For one thing," Will said, taking a few chips from the bag in front of them, "Doritos."

"You'll have to try harder than that," August said, "we won't do your work for you."

"August," Belle said, leaning closer and motioning for him to do the same, speaking in hushed tones so Will wouldn't be as likely to hear, "do you really want to be graded based on how Mr. Astley's biggest fan over here writes a report?"

They watched Will stack six Doritos on top of each other and shove the whole stack in his mouth at once.

"He's trying to take advantage of my intellect and your stubborn persistence not to appear imperfect," August said.

"Will has a special set of gifts," Belle explained, "and one of them is graphic design. He can make our PowerPoint look so professional that no one will notice how pretentious you sound while you're presenting."

"And to cover up for whatever your intellect may be lacking," August clapped back, then turned to Will, "I think we can make that work- just promise me you won't troll the rest of the class."

"What if I find a way to thematically tie it into our selected author's themes and narratives?" Will asked.

"Deal," Belle rolled her eyes again.

"No deal!" August said, appalled.

"You wanted him to do research," Belle said, "and he'll do best if he's researching something he's passionate about."

"And next he'll be comparing The Gifts of the Magi to tortilla chips."

"I care about more than just tortilla chips," Will scoffed, "there's potato chips too. But believe it or not, I am capable of getting us an A on this assignment."

"You'd better be,' August said.

There was silence for a moment as Belle picked up her textbook.

"Which author would you guys like to write about?" Belle asked, "Hawthorne, Poe, Hemingway…"

"Samuel Clemens?" August suggested.

"Everyone is going to do an assignment on Samuel Clemens," Belle said, "that's the most basic answer you could've chosen."

"You suggested Edgar Alan Poe, and you think Samuel Clemens was a basic suggestion?" August asked, "any self-proclaimed academic would come up with that one."

"O'Henry then?" Belle asked.

"Fine by me," August said, "I'll work on the themes and analysis if you wanna study his personal life."

"So you think the personal life is the easy part, then?" Belle asked.

"Pardon my display of chivalry," August said, "I simply thought you'd enjoy digging into people's history. Which part of the report would you prefer to give?"

"Personal life is fine," Belle said, "I wrote about his themes back in high school and want to give myself a challenge this time."

"And I'll put together the PowerPoint based on what you find," Will said.

"Meet back here next week to compare findings?" Belle asked.

"Fine by me," August said.

"But you guys are bringing chips to the table next week," Will said.

"Gladly," August said.

As they began to pack up their supplies, Belle's roommate, Ruby walked in.

"Hey, Ruby," Belle said.

"Working on your Classic American Literature project?"

"Just finished deliberating about it," Belle said, as Ruby sat down at her desk.

"My group finally settled on an author," Ruby said, "we're gonna present on O'Henry."

The others all sighed.

"I told you that was a basic choice," August snapped at Belle.

"You said Poe was basic," Belle said, curtly, "and that O'Henry would be fine."

"Let's just do Hawthorne instead."

"May as well," Belle said.

"Doesn't matter to me." Will said.

"Oh, hey, Belle," Ruby said, pulling out her phone, "don't forget to take out the trash."

"Take out the trash?" Belle asked. Tired of trying her best to be civil, she turned to August, "fine then, wanna go out sometime?"

It was a cheap shot, but she had to take it.

"I suppose I have to say yes," August stood up, "it's my turn to take out the trash as well. Tomorrow at six?"

"Sounds like a date," Belle crossed her arms.

It wasn't until after the guys left that Belle turned to Ruby and asked, "what just happened?"

"I think you just got yourself a date," Ruby said, not even looking up from her phone.

"We were only arguing with each other," Belle explained, "it's a thing, ya know?"

"Arguing, flirting," Ruby said, "it's all the same thing the way you two do it."

"You don't," Belle laughed, "you don't think there's anything between August and I, do you?"

"You mean besides chemistry, tension, and half the campus shipping you?" Ruby asked, "not at all."

"The rest of our peers think there's something between August and I?" Belle asked.

"Some of the teachers do too."

"The same August who refutes everything I say in every class we have together?"

"He's obsessed with you," Ruby said.

"Obsessed with hating me," Belle said, "I can't stand him."

"Yeah," Ruby smiled, "he 'can't stand' you either. That's why he asked you out."

"We can't carry on a civil conversation," Belle said, "he's a pretentious know-it-all who's always trying to one up me. Why do you think he asked me out as a joke after I asked him? He can't stand being second to me. Knowing him, he'll probably show up at our door with a bouquet of cheap flowers tomorrow night, just to spite me."

"How is that spiteful?" Ruby asked.

"Trying to get me to back down from fake asking him out," Belle said, "I'll just have to be one step ahead."

"How's that?" Ruby asked, "getting all ready for a date, just in case he does show up?"

"Exactly," Belle said.

Ruby sighed and rolled her eyes.

read the full story on ao3!

#once upon a time #ouat #belle french #august booth #beauty and the puppet #will scarlet #two scholars and the fool #ouat college au #killian jones #ruby lucas #archibald hopper #kazzy's ouat college au #kazzy writes #fanfic #ouat fanfic #beautiful liar #ooc #otp: road less traveled

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