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#ask a literary agent

rozmorris · 9 months

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Your first pages - 4 more book openings critiqued at @Litopia by literary agent @agentpete author @anniesummerlee and me!

I’ve just guested again at Litopia, the online writers’ colony and community. Each week they have a YouTube show, Pop-Up Submissions, where four manuscripts are read and critiqued live on air by literary agent Peter Cox @agentpete and a guest, or sometimes two. This time the other guest was longtime Litopian Annie Summerlee @anniesummerlee , who has published short stories in a range of online…

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novlr · 2 months

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Lots of people have told me I should self publish, but I think I still want to try to go through traditionally publishing my book first. I've got a finished manuscript, so how do I go about querying agents to find the best fit?

Pitching your manuscript to literary agents is a length process that requires lots of dedication, and a great deal of research. To get the most out of your querying, you definitely need to go in prepared.

We've put together this walk through for how to pitch your novel to literary agents, including some helpful do's and don'ts at the link below!

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aritany · 2 months

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hi! i saw your posts about being not being thrilled with your previous agent -- it seems to me like you were saying you didn't feel like they really understood/appreciated queer stories, and also felt like they were relying on the author-as-influencer phenomenon for marketing. these are both hurdles i anticipate with querying/publishing; do you have any advice? red flags to look out for, questions to ask?

yeah! we outgrew each other professionally and creatively since the time i signed with her. i came out publicly and gave myself the freedom to start telling primarily queer stories, and that just wasn't where her passion and expertise lay (and that's fine!), so parting was was less of a dramatic breakup and more of a natural end to this chapter.

i think the author-as-influencer phenomenon is becoming more and more common as publishing accelerates the way it has been the past few years, and since i haven't started querying again yet, i haven't had the opportunity to speak with other agents about it. i just couldn't get behind the almost frantic time to hustle energy - i really don't need more things to panic about.

in terms of advice: see if you can speak to other authors about their experiences with agents. all people change, and all agents will shift perspectives as they gain experience, but writers are usually more than happy to share their stories. i've heard rumour of a blacklist going around, but i haven't seen it myself, so i can't speak to its credibility.

here are a few examples of questions you can ask when you get to the stage of querying where you've got an offer and are having an interview:

why do you think this story is important?

why do you think queer stories are important in general?

do you believe that social media presence is essential in traditional publishing? is the onus for marketing on the author?

would you ever encourage an author to push past their comfort zone for the sake of selling books? if so, why?

further reading that might interest you:

Red Flag Warnings: How to Spot a Shady Literary Agent

r/PubTips: agent vetting

writer beware: literary agents

#asks #literary agents #querying

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abybweisse · 10 months

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What role in the manga is the undertaker meant to be? Is he an anti-hero, is he the end boss, is he the evil villain?

Undertaker's role?

Idk if I'd call him an anti-hero, simply because that's usually the role of a protagonist, like our earl and Sebastian.

I expect the (mostly emotional) end boss to be real Ciel, though he might be accompanied by Undertaker... at least at first. (This is a Mother3 parallel.)

Even Yana-san said at one point that Undertaker isn't a true villain. I expect the "evil" villain to be John Brown, or the queen under the influence/control of John Brown. (Another Mother3 parallel but even stronger as a Mother2 parallel.)

I think of Undertaker as a Severus Snape sort of character. Greatly flawed... but motivated by love to help take down the evil that destroyed the person he loved. Even if it means acting as a double agent... and as an adversary to someone he's sworn to protect. And he's both a foil and antagonist to Sebastian. (Some HP parallel tossed in for good measure.)

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #undertaker #literary roles #literary foil #adversary #double agent #antagonist #character analysis #minnesotamermaid71 #asks #i answer #answered asks #hp #harry potter #mother3 #mother2 #jul 16 2023 #i forgot what day it was

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 1 year

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If anyone following me is a published author please tell me where and how to start looking for a literary agent. Every time I try I just get so fucking overwhelmed and everything is hidden behind walls and obscure sights. Any advice would be appreciated.

Hell, if anyone following me IS literary agent let me know.

#incorrect super smash bros #literary agent #publish #publishing #advice #need advice #asking for advice #help #need help #agent #literature #writing

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ragnarlothcat · 2 months

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8, 12, 23 (any or all) from the writing asks 💕

Hi friend 🥰 and thank you! (for this fic writer ask game)

I've just done 8 here but:

12. a trope you’re really into right now

Unfortunately I think the answer is still undercover missions. That's the premise of my daddy kink fic and I've just realized it's (sort of) the premise of the goofy one-shot I'm working on. I'm a very simple creature and I know what I like!

23. pick three keywords that describe your writing

Hmm I imagine this like I'm a literary agent and am (insanely) trying to sell some publisher on RagnarLothcat's writing style. So I would say:

Casual, funny (at least I think I'm funny!) and unfocused? Unfocused sounds like I'm insulting myself but I mean more it can be very stream-of-consciousness, you know?

#ask game #palfriendpatine66 #i could be totally off the mark with my writing #this is why people have literary agents who aren't themselves i suppose

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saintmachina · 2 years

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hey! I'm sorry to ask this if you've already covered it, but how did you go about finding an agent? I'd like to get involved in ghostwriting or my own supernatural romances, but the whole process is so intimidating!

There's a couple of way you can go about building a list of agents to query, and they go hand in hand! I suggest you:

Check out Manuscript Wishlist and search the site for genres, themes, and tropes that match the book you want to query. Not every agent is listen on MSWL, and it skews towards kidlit and genre fiction, but it's a great tool

Follow some agents on twitter go get a sense of their professional tastes. However, if you're not already on twitter it might not be worth making a whole new account for this UNLESS you're going to use it as an author account once you get signed. Twitter is slowly sinking, but it's still pretty much the place to be for publishing professionals.

Pay $25 bucks a month for a Publisher's Marketplace subscription, where you can look up what books agents are selling in real time and find a good fit for you based on their sales track record. This is also the best way to vet an agent; by looking at what they've sold previously. (This is a pay for play option, but I think it's worth the cost, and you can do most of your research within a month and then cancel the subscription)

Make a Query Tracker account. This is a great place to glean info about agent's reading times and form responses, as well as keep track of your own queries.

You can also find agent listings on Duotrope!

Good luck with querying!

#query letter #amwriting #publishing advice #writing advice #literary agent #answered asks #writeblogging #writeblr

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spaceshipkat · 1 year

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I've heard that if you self publish and your books don't do well, that makes trad publishers less likely to take you on. Is this true? Would this make it more difficult to find an agent, and in turn more difficult for the agent to find a publisher? Thank you for your time : )

so that’s both true and it’s not, and i’ll explain why. if you self publish a book that sells incredibly well, you could easily approach an agent and/or a publisher to get representation/a traditional book deal for that book. if you self publish a book that doesn’t do well (and i asked my agent about this for a friend, and my agent said a good number for this specific scenario is somewhere bw 7000 - 10000 copies sold) but try to query or submit the book, you’re unlikely to get any bites.

however, if you self published a book that didn’t do well, and later decide to query a completely new, unrelated book, your chances for signing with an agent or getting a trad book deal with that second unrelated book won’t be affected. your trad publisher will likely just treat you as a debut author (i know someone this happened to), and if your “debut” does well, they’ll likely hype up your backlist, which could include your self published book.

so no, it wouldn’t affect your chances unless you try to query and traditionally publish your unsuccessful self published book.

i hope this helps! :)

#ask #anonymous #publishing #publishing industry #writeblr #querying #literary agents #query tips

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rozmorris · 1 year

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Your first pages - 5 manuscripts critiqued at @Litopia by literary agent @AgentPete @AJ_Dickenson and me!

I’ve just guested again at Litopia, the online writers’ colony and community. Each week they have a YouTube show, Pop-Up Submissions, where five manuscripts are read and critiqued live on air by literary agent Peter Cox @agentpete and a guest, or sometimes two. This time the other guest was Andy Dickenson @AJ_Dickenson, ITV reporter and YA author. The format is simple. Five manuscripts, each…

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fandomshatepeopleofcolor · 5 months

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Okay, since the Spielberg post blew up, I need to clear up something because I can see in the notes that pple think that Spielberg owns the rights to MLK speeches and I don't want to spread any misinformation. This is what the Vice article says:

In 2009, Steven Spielberg's DreamWorks company paid the estate for film rights to King's words, along with his life rights, which allow a person or company to make content based on an individual's story. DreamWorks has yet to produce or direct Spielberg's planned King biopic, but the rights have caused complications for numerous filmmakers. (Neither Spielberg's literary agent nor King's estate returned Broadly's request for comment.)

This means that while the MLK estate still owns the original copyright for the speeches, Spielberg actually bought and now owns the film rights to MLK's speeches. However, this doesn't erase how problematic it it is since this means that Spielberg is the only filmmaker legally allowed to use MLK's speeches word for word in his films. A White filmmaker is essentially holding onto the film rights, at the expense of Black filmmakers. The article talks about how Ava Duvernay had to write original speeches from scratch for Selma.

King has received only one major biopic, 2014's Selma, directed by Ava DuVernay [...] Instead of using King's speeches, DuVernay wrote original monologues that sounded like soliloquies the civil rights leader could have given. [...] When asked about the changes in 2014, DuVernay told the Washington Post, "We knew those rights are already gone. They're with Spielberg."

The article also mentioned that Spielberg bought life rights and according to this Forbes article, this means that Spielberg also bought the rights to MLK's life.

By paying the Estate for the film rights to Dr. King's speeches along with life rights, Spielberg obtained unprecedented filmmaking access to Dr. King’s life — supported by Dr. King’s extraordinary intellectual property (the right to use Dr. King’s actual words.)

Hope this clarifies everything!

- mod sodapop

#mod sodapop #steven spielberg #martin luther king jr #hollywood

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aritany · 2 months

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this is a little bit of a stupid question maybe, but what do agents... do? do you only need one for tradpub or is there stuff they do for indie/selfpub too?

not a stupid question! literary agents act as the middle man between authors looking to traditionally publish and the publishing houses that would publish them! they function as gatekeepers so that, say, harper collins doesn't receive a thousand unsolicited manuscripts a day.

major publishers only receive manuscripts through agents, who go in representing the authors they sign, and then the agents receive a commission of all sales, usually 15%.

agents aren't required for indie/self publishing, which is for many (myself included) a big draw. querying (the process of pitching your novel to agents) can be gruelling and very time consuming. some authors are in the query trenches for many years.

#asks #publishing #literary agents

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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || william killick x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || your husband sometimes gets carried away with his devotion to you...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || noncon/heavy dubcon smut (18+ only!!! rough sex, breeding kink, marking kink, hair pulling, praise and degradation, dark but the reader is lowkey into it lmaooo), jealousy and possessiveness, yandere vibes?, gaslighting/manipulation, established relationship, alcohol consumption

"Heavens, you look stunning!" Gordon announced when he saw you, opening his arms wide as an invitation for an embrace. You only went in for a quick hug, but he grabbed you tight and kissed the top of your head as you laughed delightfully. "Doesn't she look ravishing? Don't I have excellent taste?"

The other ladies nearby nodded in agreement, hanging off of him like they tended to. That was the way Gordon was: magnetic, for his personality just as much as his looks. Blonde curls with light brown eyes and that megawatt smile… as long as you'd known him, he'd never had trouble with ladies— he just made trouble for them.

"Aren't I the greatest literary agent you ever had?" he asked you, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're the only I've ever had," you reminded him. "You represented me when I was a teenage girl trying to sell my assignments from secondary school!"

"Yes, so I win by default," he decided with a big kiss to your cheek that made you scrunch up your nose.

"But that makes you the worst I ever had, too, doesn't it?" you noticed as Gordon relaxed his embrace to just an arm around your waist.

"See?" he prompted the nearby women, "Didn't I tell you? Can't get anything past this one— sharp as a whip, she is—"

As you shrugged in dismissal of the praise, you looked around the room in awe of all Gordon had done for you now. He had a taste for the extravagant, clearly; truth be told, it was nothing like you'd pictured it, and nothing like what you'd asked him for when he insisted on throwing a party.

"So, please, drink up, be merry, all of that," Gordon instructed his ladies, motioning out towards the crowded room, "get properly sloppy if you must— all in honour of this lovely woman right here… a genius of writing, and one of my longest and dearest friends."

As they departed in search of free drinks, you turned to Gordon with a nervous frown. "I'm not sure this is really all for me, Gordy," you sighed.

"Of course it is," he chuckled heartily, "I told you I'd throw something to celebrate another year of us working together— I wanted to have a gala for your novel's first publishing, but you were too busy on the honeymoon then—"

You smiled just at the mention of your honeymoon.

"All these people, doll, they're here for you," Gordon assured.

"The people, maybe; but the evening wear, the drinks, the music, the glamour? That's for you, isn't it?" you smirked.

But before he could respond to the accusation, his eyes fell somewhere at the other end of the room, and he turned you to look the same way. "Speaking of people here for you…" he trailed off.

You perked up when you saw William, slipping through the crowds of people, already approaching you with his hat tucked under his arm.

"You came!" you squealed with excitement as you jumped towards your husband, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "Oh, dear," you sighed when you saw that you'd printed berry-red lipstick on his cheek, starting to wipe it off with your fingers.

"I couldn't miss it, of course," he smiled at you, his voice so soft you barely heard it over the hustle and bustle of the party.

"They shouldn't have let you in," Gordon said, making you both look back at him. "It's black tie only, you know."

William smiled slightly with his lips pressed together. "He's only joking," you realised with an awkward mumble.

"The uniform seemed to go over alright," William replied, sticking his hand out towards Gordon for a shake.

"Oh, don't be so formal," Gordon laughed as he yanked William into rough side-hug. "We know each other, don't we?"

"Sort of," William answered under his breath as Gordon put a heavy hand— adorned with golden decorative rings— on his shoulder.

"Though I've half a mind to rough you up for convincing my star author to publish her next book under her married name," Gordon continued with a haughty laugh. "She's already so established with the maiden name!"

"I didn't convince her of anything, I only married her," William defended.

"Never thought you'd manage to tie this one down," Gordon smirked, "independent as she is."

"She didn't put up too much of a fight," William winked at you, and you felt a little flushed as you blinked quickly.

Apparently tired with that line of conversation, Gordon stood beside you and flipped it back to the real topic of the evening: your writing.

“She’s quite a prodigy!” Gordon exclaimed with a wide grin, wrapping an arm around you, then. “You’ve read what she writes, haven't you?”

“Some of it,” William admitted with a nervous laugh, looking down for a moment. “The rest is too sad for me, I’m afraid.”

“Her latest is a masterpiece,” Gordon assured. “Forbidden love, secrets, affairs—”

“Sordid stuff,” William frowned, shaking his head.

“Sells, though,” Gordon winked. “Men and women— we’re even selling copies in America!”

William only nodded, not seeming too convinced, and you deflated slightly as you reached out for your husband’s hand. “Aren’t you proud of me?” you asked, sounding much more pathetic than you meant to.

“Of course, darling,” he smiled at you, “always.”

“You don’t mind if I borrow your lovely wife again, do you?” Gordon beamed. “There’s some people over there she should meet— they might just sponsor the tour for her next novel.”

“All these book tours, I feel as if she’s hardly ever home,” William sighed.

“Well, we’ve got to keep her on the tours,” Gordon chuckled, “or that pretty face will go to waste!”

William’s jaw tightened as he nodded curtly in agreement, and you felt nervousness turning in your stomach.

“You should have a drink, soldier,” Gordon offered to lighten the obvious tension, handing William a wide glass of champagne.

He patted your husband a little too roughly on the back as he drank, before dragging you off to talk to some publishers or whatever— you glanced over to try to see your husband at the bar, hoping to catch him smiling at you, but you only caught his icy stare over the edge of his glass.

Enough liquor loosened you both up, and you managed to enjoy the party well into the hours of the night— it was almost one in the morning when you got home, yet you had a shocking amount of energy still coursing through you as you started to undress at the vanity. It must’ve been all the people there, and knowing they were all celebrating you; it was electrifying, even as someone who preferred to be cooped up alone with her typewriter.

William leaned against the bedroom doorway as you shed your heels and stockings, then unpinned your hair. When you saw him skulking on the reflection, you smirked to yourself, taking out one of your earrings.

“What’s the matter, love?” you asked sweetly, but he said nothing. “Love?”

“I guess I’m not much of a partier,” he explained flatly.

You smiled a little, taking out your other earring and then reaching behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. You didn’t even really notice the silence before it was broken.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” William said suddenly, and you scoffed— once you realised what he was talking about.

“He’s just that way,” you assured, “I don’t take it personally.”

“And all the talk of your genius, of your prodigious writing— that’s not personal?”

You shrugged slightly as you turned slightly and looked at him over your shoulder, smiling but knitting your brows together in confusion. “Isn’t that why you married me? I thought you liked the way people fawn over me.”

“But you know him,” William insisted again. “You knew him before you even met me, you work with him— you spend long hours with him, when I’m gone—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you laughed, standing up, but he only glared at you. You tilted your head as you approached him. “William, you couldn’t really think—”

“Don’t patronise me,” he sneered, and when you reached out to touch his face, he snatched you by the wrist and yanked you closer.

“William!” you scolded, whimpering as he moved his face close to yours, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily through them. “William, please—”

“Look at me,” he demanded, grabbing your face with his other hand. “Look at your husband, darling.”

You bit your lip to suppress its shaking, meeting his fiery— yet cold— stare. “You’re hurting me,” you whispered, tightening your hand into a weak fist as he held it painfully tight.

“I can see, you know,” he told you sharply and quietly through his teeth. “I can see the way you laugh at his jokes, and let him pull you closer. His hand on your hip—”

“It’s nothing, William,” you breathed, and his hand moved down from your face to your neck, then your chest, where he brushed his fingers over the neckline of your dress.

“Wearing the dresses he buys for you,” he noticed with a sneer. “God, he’s got you looking like his fucking whore.”

He shoved you back and you tripped to land on the bed, hiding your face in fear and shame as he stalked towards you.

“Now you want to play innocent?” William spat as he towered over you. “I told you to fucking look at me!”

“I can’t!” you sobbed, fighting when he grabbed your arms and tried to pry them apart, attempting to force you to turn onto your back. “I can’t, William, not when you’re like this!”

“You made me like this!” he accused, eventually getting you to turn over so he could pin down your wrists on either side of your head. “You made me like this,” he said again, voice lowered from shouting to a soft growl. “You let him put his filthy fucking hands all over you, didn’t you?”

“No, William,” you denied, crying weakly as you shook your head. “Never. I love you— I love you more than anything.”

“But you won’t tell me the truth,” he snarled. “The truth, darling, not another story— not another one of your goddamn stories!”

“He kissed me!” you admitted suddenly, and before you could explain, William roughly slammed his lips onto yours. You whimpered into it, struggling against his tightening grip, and he pressed you down into the bed with the weight of his body.

“Tell me how it happened,” he demanded, lips still brushing against yours as he spoke, eyes still piercing through you.

“I swear, Will, I told him to stop,” you breathed, “I pushed him away. I told him I love you, William— and I do, don’t you know how much I do?”

“He kissed you,” William repeated, rage tinting his voice.

“That’s all, I swear,” you promised.

“And you didn’t tell me—”

“I thought you’d get angry,” you defended weakly.

“You didn't tell your poor, doting husband,” he groaned, “your heartbroken husband—”

“I’m so sorry, William,” you whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me, hm? Because you love him?”

“No! Fuck, no,” you cried.

“Because you considered it— because you thought about letting him make love to you?”

“No!” you shouted, but he suddenly put a hand over your mouth to muffle it. When you stopped, stilling briefly as he looked down at you, he took his hand away and stroked your cheek with it.

“He must have forgotten,” William whispered under his breath, petting your face and acting oddly sweet. “He must have forgotten that you… belong to me.”

You blinked quickly, shivering as he pressed a slow, short kiss to your lips.

“That these lips belong to me,” he continued with a sigh, “that this neck belongs to me—”

He kissed it, but brushed his teeth teasingly over your pulse.

“That every single, beautiful, perfect part of you,” he went on, hands running down over your chest and settling on your waist tightly, “belongs to me.”

He bit down harder on your neck and you whined.

“Did you forget too, darling?”

“William, you’ll leave marks,” you whimpered, “you’ll bruise me—”

“Good,” he purred, “then you can’t just take your ring off and act single, can you?”

“I never take off your ring, William,” you swore, “not even to bathe…”

“I still want my marks all over you,” he explained darkly, “I still want you bruised tomorrow. I don’t just want them to know you’re married, darling— I want them to know how good I fuck you. I want them to know that your husband fucks you.”

Suddenly his hands were at your dress, tearing it to shreds right down the front.

“And I want them to know,” he continued with a groan, “how much you love it.”

He flipped you over roughly, yanking you up by your hair until you were forced to scramble onto your hands and knees. Your head dropped defeatedly when he let go of your hair, and he held your hips tightly with one hand as he opened his trousers with the other.

“W-wait,” you stammered, but he ignored you, reaching up under the tatters of your dress to yank your girdle and panties down. Before you could beg for some mercy again he slammed into you, making you choke out a wavering cry; instantly he was fucking you hard and fast, making you shake all over and try to reach back to grab his hips so he might slow down. “W-Will, love, please—” you whimpered helplessly.

“Fuck, if that son of a bitch could see you like this,” William sneered. “If he could see you now— he’d know who you belong to, wouldn’t he? If he could see you on your hands and knees, begging for me…”

He fucked you even harder— his hand reached up to hold onto your shoulder so you wouldn’t fall forward from the force of it.

“If he could see what a dirty little wife you are,” he groaned, digging his fingers into your skin— more marks, you were sure. “Fuck, you’re soaking me already, darling.”

A whimper slipped from your mouth as he leaned down, holding you tightly and speaking right by your ear.

“You like it, don’t you? Playing with me,” he hissed. “You like driving your poor husband crazy, thinking you might be stepping out on him?”

You shook your head, choking on a moan as he slowed his movements to make sure every thrust reached as deep into you as possible. “N-no, love, no—”

“You like how I fuck you when I’m angry, don’t you?” he went on anyways, biting the shell of your ear until your channel clenched around him. “Is that what got you so wet, darling?”

Biting your lip to hide your moans, you held tighter onto the sheets beneath you, and one of his hands came down to wrap around yours.

“So sweet,” he cooed, “such a sweet little wife. You look so innocent, darling, they have no idea what a slut you are— none of them do, but fuck… they will.”

He sped up again and you whined loudly; the pain and the pleasure together made your legs shake, hardly able to hold you up on the bed. He snatched one of the nearby pillows and shoved it under your hips— it kept them up when he began to fuck you so hard that you fell forward, and the angle hit just right inside you as a desperate scream was muffled by your face falling into the sheets.

"Yes, there she is," he praised, "my whore wife— how she loves to be fucked, reminded of her place. This is your place, isn't it? In my bed, sweet cunt taking my cock? Not out with that awful man— not on those godforsaken book tours—"

When you tried to reach back to keep him from going too deep again, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them back beside your face as he kept thrusting even faster, making the whole bed bounce and shake.

"You can take it all, darling," he promised with a groan, "you can fit your husband inside, all the way— fuck, you're so beautiful like this. You're so perfect, my angel…"

He buried his face in your neck as he thrusted into you, his own moans rivalling yours while he kissed your neck and ear and shoulder.

No one could accuse your husband of lacking passion, even if they didn’t see him like this— which you really hoped they didn’t. From the very beginning, he’d pursued you fervently: he read one of your short stories, and wrote rather effusive fan mail to the magazine in which it was published. And then when he came to your publisher’s office hoping to meet you, he took one look at you and became properly obsessed. He insisted you were the love of his life… and before you’d even really gotten to know him! You were nearly offended at first; but the longer his seduction went on, the more you couldn’t help but fall for him. Strong yet tender, kind yet stern, intelligent yet sensitive… and creative, much more than you expected. He had quite an imagination.

Unfortunately, that imagination had a dark side, especially with his tendency to be quite jealous. It had never gone this far before, though.

He pulled out of you, only a moment of relief and disappointment, before turning you onto your back and hovering over you. “Look at me,” he demanded again, though his voice was low and gentle now, “look up at me, beautiful.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, admiring the tears in your eyes with a tender sort of expression.

“Oh, my darling,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck as he slowly pushed back inside you. Your back arched and he slipped one arm under it to hold you tightly as he set a more careful pace than before— though still not all that slow. "My beautiful girl— you can't help it, can you? The way men feel about you."

A slightly deeper thrust made you gasp and reach up to hold his shoulders, blinking through the watering in your eyes.

"Of course he kissed you," he breathed, "if you were another man's wife, I'd kiss you too. I'll always have to have you, darling, nothing could stop me."

"I pushed him away, love," you swore again.

"I know, I know," he cooed. "But I still can't stand to think of it… of my darling wife being kissed by someone else. He would've only done that if he thought you'd kiss him back, you know— he thought you would let him fuck you."

He picked up his pace, staring deep into your eyes and gripping you tightly.

“When you’re pregnant, then he’ll know,” William announced proudly as he held your hips. “Then everyone who sees you will know: you fucking belong to me.”

Overwhelmed by it, you felt yourself get even hotter and slicker between the legs at the idea of that. He was wrong about you wanting to make him jealous, but neither of you could deny now that you got some gratification out of it.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I belong to you,” you promised, “I’m yours— you know I’m yours, love, always—”

He hummed in agreement, pumping deeper and faster into you as your head spun. “You’ll be the most beautiful expectant wife there ever was,” he purred, a rough hand tugging your bra out of the way and groping your breasts. “These nice and full— all of you swollen and soft—”

“W-William,” you stammered, hardly able to breathe with his weight on you and the way he filled you.

“Big belly,” he cooed, “and my baby inside— our baby. Fuck, how can I wait to see you like that?”

“F-fuck,” you choked out, “don’t stop, please… please, my love—”

“I’ll fill you, darling,” he promised lowly, baring his teeth as you started to fall into it— your head tilting back into the mattress, pleasure overtaking you, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’ll give you everything I have, every night, until it takes—”

“Please,” you begged, holding him tighter and lifting your face up with what little energy you had to bury it in his shoulder. You cried from the intensity of it all— from everything— as shudders wracked your body. He groaned as he felt you pulsing around him, kissing your face and groaning beside your ear.

“What a good little wife,” he praised as you came, “what a perfect little wife— you want it, don’t you? To be pregnant, have my child?”

You barely managed to nod, you were so overcome by every sensation running through you. But you did, and he growled proudly.

“You will, my angel,” he promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Just say one more time that you love me, darling— that you’ll always be mine—”

“I-I love you so much, William,” you swore, muffled in the jacket that you clutched needily. “I’m yours— I’m always yours— oh!”

You lost track of your words, but it didn’t matter then because you were drowned out by his gasps: heavy, low breaths as he pressed into you one last time and filled you completely.

Instantly, you were flooded with even more emotions: shame, ecstasy, confusion, hurt, love. It was too much to take even if you weren’t still slightly tipsy and entirely sleep-deprived, but altogether it just turned you into a mess.

After coming down from his high— though he was still catching his breath— William seemed to sober up in a second as you cried harder. Cooing gently at you, he wrapped his arms tighter around you and hugged you close.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he breathed as he held you tightly, “I’m so sorry. You know it’s just my love that makes me this way— I just can’t stand to see another man lay his hand on you… I just can’t imagine you with anyone else, it breaks my heart, darling.”

“You break my heart, William,” you whispered back, still hiding in his shoulder, “when you think I could ever hurt you like that. When you accuse me of something like that—”

“I just get scared, darling,” he sighed, petting your back slowly as he rocked you in his arms. “I just get scared that you’re too good to be true. That this beautiful creature can’t be all mine.”

You smiled against his skin, holding onto him tighter. “I love you so much, William… I’d never— you have to believe me, I’d never—”

“Shh,” he soothed softly, as he held your head and kissed the top of it. “I know, darling, I know. Because you belong to me.”

#william killick x reader #william killick smut #william killick dark fic #dark!william killick smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy dark fic

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forbidden-sunlight · 4 months

Text

yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.

There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to the second installment of this scenario, featuring Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 who helped me write this finale.

As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this series will be taken down.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive back into the cutthroat world of publishing.

Part One

The press conference went as expected.

Everyone wanted to know who accused best-selling author Abigail Crowley of plagiarism, where is the evidence to prove that an unidentified individual is the one who really wrote The Darkness and The Nightingale, and why are the representatives of the publishing company are now just finding out about it less than a month before its release date. Yandere!Literary Agent is good at his job, at least when it comes to standing in front of flashing cameras and phones shoved in his face, asking for a statement. He answered the journalists who patiently raised their hands and disregarded the ones who kept interrupting with asinine questions that had nothing to do with the subject of the press conference whatsoever. Yes, he had been contacted by the true writer. No, he will not give out a name to respect their privacy. Yes, there is evidence and it will be presented to a judge, should Abigail Crowley wishes to take Sailboat Publishing House to court and fight back against the claims. No, the printing date will not be changed. He is currently with the writer on revisions and he will not take any more questions at this time. Please speak to the company’s PR representative, Ms. Isley, for a formal interview. That is it for today.

The world now knows the truth. Social media was going to be a proverbial shitstorm; one side will defend Abigail Crowley and say she is the true author as she is still a great writer, and there will be people who speak trash to her out of spite for whatever reason. Some will even try to track you down online and harass you for days on end. Yandere!Literary Agent just hoped that you meant what you said about not being online anymore because of politics.

In any case, the projected million copies to be sold would have to decrease significantly. You told him over the phone that you didn’t mind, commenting that at least 100,000 should be a tidy enough number and he would still get his commission. He didn't have to worry about the fees since Abigail is going to pay for those, or fight back. That was the ultimatum Yandere!Literary Agent and the board members gave it to her almost a week ago.

It was six-thirty in the evening when he told you about what had happened. He was still in the office finishing up a few things, and he had you on speaker mode while he typed away at his desk. You were typing too, working on the revisions and thanking the universe that you had a digital copy of your manuscript on file too, so the task he had given you made things a little easier. So did taking two weeks off of work. But the way you saw it, the PTO either had to be used now, or it wouldn’t be rolled over because you had too much PTO. Yes, that can definitely happen in your career field because you need the hours to pay for bills and essentially being alive. You were making good progress and hoped that you didn’t need to pull another all-nighter just to finish up these edits on page 159.

You were diligent, Yandere!Literary Agent will give you that much. He reminded you of the deadline. You told him to focus on his work, and he’ll have a pristine manuscript in his inbox. Please stop the daily phone calls and text messages, he was putting the pressure on you. This is why you did not want to become an author.

He contacted you on Friday night about the press conference. The following week, an email titled The Darkness and the Nightingale - final edits popped up as soon he opened his computer on Thursday morning.

It’s done. Contact me only if there are edits that must absolutely be changed. Going to sleep. Night.

[First Name]

The manuscript had been sent to him at three o’clock in the morning. You had really cut it close but it was here. The story was finished. He quickly opened up the document. He looked over the edits, compared it to what was written before….and nodded in affirmation. Yes. Yandere!Literary Agent thought as he looked over the words, your words, with a small smile, leaning back against his leather chair. This is a story that will sell.

Yandere!Literary Agent placed the manuscript on a flash drive, arranged a meeting with the printing companies and sent you three options for the cover art and needed a response as soon as you were able to. All in all, everything had turned out. A week before the release date arrived, The Darkness and The Nightingale were loaded into trucks to be sold in bookstores across the country.

One task done. Now to move onto the next project.

He deleted your contact info. He had no reason to keep it, at least on his phone. Email was enough. Sure enough, another client sent him a pitch for a new trilogy that would act as the prequel to the original ones that were already popular with young adults, and Yandere!Literary Agent dove head first into it. He hadn’t realized that a month had passed since The Darkness and The Nightingale had been published. This is what usually happens when he concentrates solely on one client. A bad habit, yes, but as he has mentioned beforehand, he is good at his job.

No news yet in regards to Abigail Crowley, the plagiarism issue was dying down in favor of a startlet’s drug overdose, and there was a meeting on Monday to discuss sales. Another win-win for Yulian Prescott, the man who had single-handedly saved the company from going under. But on Friday afternoon, Yandere!Literary Agent received an email from the printing companies and PR department, concerning the sales of your book. Flummoxed, and a little worried that the number of copies unsold outweighed what was printed, he opened the email.

He blinked. And then blinked again before removing his glasses, giving them a good cleaning and placing them back onto his face. He re-read the email again, his eyes growing wider and wider. This wasn’t about copies that weren’t sold….it was a request from five hundred different printing companies to print your book. The demand wasn’t isolated to the States. There were demands from all over the world!

Unlocking his phone, he swiped over to TikTok, searched for Booktok and looked at the trending topics. There were reels, memes, and reactions about your book. There were people quoting about your book, reenactments of certain scenes, before and after reactions, etc. Of course there were some who didn’t believe that you wrote it, thinking you stole it from Abigail, but that was beside the point.

Your first book had taken the world by storm, and he hadn’t even considered this possibility because it has only happened a few times with Sailboat Publishing. He should have negotiated a higher number of books with you! But that was then, this is now.

He quickly opened a new message on his email, attaching the email he had gotten, inquiring you to see what he has seen and if you would allow more copies to be published. His schedule is open, so please answer when you get a chance. He received an email from you a few hours later, stating the following:

I work twelve hour shifts on weekdays and only have weekends to get my life together. Why do we need to discuss numbers? I already received the advanced copy. Were you trying to send an attachment? It didn’t go through. Wi-Fi was down until now.

[First Name]

Yandere!Literary Agent immediately responded, asking if you would like to meet up later today if that was possible. You said that you were still out running a few errands, but could meet him at Sally’s Diner or a Starbucks. Both places were located halfway between his office and your home, at least the ones you knew about. If he wasn’t at work today, where else did he want to meet? You don’t want to travel too far, and you’d like to take a nap before it gets too late in the day. He had to fight off the smile that was threatening to stretch across his mouth. Cheeky. He thought. He already had a light lunch, but he wasn’t opposed to getting a mid-afternoon pickup. When he offered to pay for your drink and a pastry of your choice, you responded that you would meet him there in an hour.

It gave plenty of time to gather what he needed to speak to you about the current situation.

He met you outside of the building at the allotted time, enjoying a light breeze before following you inside, holding the door open for you and a mother-daughter duo exiting with Strawberry Acai Refreshers in their hands.

Once the orders were placed under his name, Yandere!Literary Agent led you to the back of the cafe and sat down at one of the small tables. You followed suit, hooking the straps of your backpack on the back of your chair. “Did you read the attachment?” He asked.

You nodded. “I did. But….you’re absolutely sure the numbers are right, the ones you’ve shown me? Because if this is your idea of a joke, I swear to God -”

Yulian held up a hand in the air, stopping you from saying anything else.

"Believe me I thought the same thing when I first opened it, but this is no joke, [First Name]. Publishing companies from around the world have reached out, requesting mass publications in at least fifteen different languages, at the moment. And according to the PR team, more keep coming. Your work has gone global, [First Name], and more people are wanting to read it."

You looked at him in utter disbelief, leaning back against the chair with wide [Eye Color] orbs. Before you could ask him any more questions, the barista called out for Yulian.

Yandere!Literary Agent stood up, collecting the drinks and pastry and returning to his seat. Placing them down on the table, he gave yours, and put his black coffee to the side so that he could boot up his laptop. He pulled up the reprint requests so you could see it for yourself. The proof that you are a successful writer. You stared at the screen for a moment until you glanced back up at him.

“Why is it so successful? I thought the reason we agreed on a small number of copies to be printed was because of the plagiarism scandal. There’s been nothing on the news about it lately, or about Abigail.”

Yulian smiled. “Because you are a brilliant writer. While we did agree on a small account of copies to be printed, there’s high praise on social media. Everyone is clamoring to read it, hence why the demand is greater than anyone could have anticipated, myself included.” He folded his hands together, elbows pressing against the table. “Now, regarding the…situation with Ms. Crowley, the legal team still has the materials you had shown to me; the receipts from Etsy, the Google Docs, they all have timestamps. So even if she wishes to take it to court, no one can deny that she did indeed steal your work because you created this masterpiece while she was working on another series. And before you say anything, your personal information has and will not be released.”

You nodded slowly at his words, your shoulders dropping in relief before reaching for your beverage, taking a languid sip from the cup. Then another, obviously relishing the effect of caffeine giving your body that much needed energy boost. Yandere! Literary Agent knew the feeling all too well.

“Now, how many copies will you allow us to reprint?”

“What are the fees that will come with doing this kind of job?” You fired back. “If there is a global demand like you say there is, then someone will need to translate it. Not to mention there are different cover designs, marketing, all of that fun stuff. Will the royalties, if I am to receive any, be deducted to cover the cost? I do not want to get myself into any more debt that I already have.”

Yandere!Literary Agent pulled out his laptop from his messenger bag, pulling up the spreadsheets that the publishing and financing departments had created earlier in the week. The information included fees for translating, reprinting, and international shipping based on demand. On the very bottom of the last spreadsheet would be your net income.

He had no doubt that this amount of money would allow you to be debt-free and live comfortably…at least until you could write another book. Then he saw the confusion, panic, excitement and anxiety swirling in your irises. The mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Yandere!Literary Agent had seen that stupefied look more than once. It was the expression of someone who had not expected to receive such a big paycheck, at least until he had kindly explained that there were some fees which needed to be paid, which would be deducted from the royalties. With you, it seemed like he did not have to hold your hand and explain how the business of publishing went, word for word.

Which is why he was quite surprised to see you suddenly standing up, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “Where are you going?” He asked, watching you push in the chair.

“I’m leaving.”

“But you still haven’t decided on a number of copies for us to reprint!”

“I’m sorry, but I am not liking where this conversation is headed. As I mentioned before, I write for fun. This isn’t about the money, and I have no desire whatsoever to be your next cash cow. Can’t you decide on a number and call it a day?”

“Not without your consent! That would be in direct violation of our contract, and you wouldn’t be paid for the reprinted copies!” He exclaimed. Yes, he knew that he was acting a bit…childish, but this is a serious matter! How could you even think of walking away from a one-in-a-million opportunity like this? Or even believe that he would use your writing to embellish the company’s reputation further by being the sole representative of an extremely popular, best-selling writer?

Because in the darkest corner of his mind, a nasty voice would gleefully agree with your accusations. This was nothing personal, it was a business. And he would go where there was talent, and money. Not to mention elevate his status even further as a high-in-demand literary agent for one of the biggest publishing companies in the States.

You raised an eyebrow at him, then leaned forward, putting your hands on the back of the chair.

“Mister Prescott, for a minute, please pretend I am not a client and explain in layman’s terms, why would I be paid for that? As far as I was concerned, once the book is out of my hands, it is your responsibility and how the printing is handled. Or am I wrong?”

A client. That’s right….you weren’t a client. You were just a hobbyist writer who had your work stolen by one of his clients. But you were still a writer, someone who could create worlds while working godawful shifts back-to-back. So he spoke plainly to you.

While you were not officially his client, your work was still part of Sailboat Publishing, therefore it is his responsibility to ensure that the royalties matched the time and effort you had put in creating The Darkness and The Nightingale. Yes, he had to make sure the quality of the book’s printing were high quality and not a hackneyed rush job just to keep up with the demand.

Then he said he would be delighted if he could be your official representative…in the near future.

You shook your head. “No need for that. You returned my story to me. After we decide on numbers, I’d say your business with me is done.”

“You don’t want to be an author on the New York Times’ Bestseller List.” It was more of a statement than a question. So why did his heart drop into the pit of his stomach at the thought of never seeing you again once you walk out of the door?

“I’m pretty sure you have more than enough clients to keep yourself busy for a long time.” You said dryly. “You’d drive yourself crazy if you worked with me.”

“And how do you know that it won’t work out?” He challenged you with a small smile. You just gave him an ‘are-you-shitting-me’ frown before releasing a low sigh.

“I still have six more months left on my contract with the hospital. I can’t just quit or I risk having to pay back everything as compensation for breaching it before the end of the contract. I wouldn’t be able to do anything related to the book, like tours and interviews until…sometime next year? No, more like the beginning of next year, like around February. I am starting to outline the concept of another idea I have for a book, a standalone, but I only write on my days off or when I’m on my lunch break. Are you fine with waiting until I send you a query letter and the first fifty pages until next February? Is that too long for your liking?”

Yandere! Literary Agent was not bothered by this proposition. If anything, it worked out perfectly with his schedule. And there is the prospect of you becoming his official client. However, he did not want to push your boundaries any more than he already has for today. Instead, he said that it was fine with him.

“If you agree to us printing more copies of The Darkness and The Nightingale, then we’ll be all set until next year. Do you want to use the same cover worldwide, or do you want us to come up with some alternative covers for different countries, and send you the designs you like?”

“...Alternative.” You said, pulling back the chair and sitting back down, backpack plopped into the adjacent seat. “Do you have any artists that you recommend, or have portfolios I could look at?”

Decisions were discussed within the next hour, and Yandere!Literary Agent was satisfied with leaving Starbucks with an idea of what his Monday morning is going to look like. But what satisfied him more was the number of copies that he and you agreed on. Fifty-thousand, in each language.

It was enough to make his heart quicken with excitement.

Or is he anticipating the momentous day when you signed a contract with Sailboat Publishing and he became your literary agent? Six months might seem like a long time….but he prided himself on being a patient man.

Knowing he will be the best damned agent for you, because you deserve nothing less, and much more.

Knowing he will be the only one to read your WIPS, help you become a better writer, protect you from the paparazzi and anyone else who would dare to try to covet you like a trophy.

Knowing that in the end, all you will have is him. And he will have you, whether you like it or not.

If Abigail Crowley keeps trying to contact him, pleading that she wasn’t wrong and that she did have a new idea for a book so please read her emails she’s been sending please give her one more chance don’t ruin her life please…he might have to do something about it.

Noisy dogs need to be fed, right?

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#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere male #yandere #ns.fw #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere! literary agent #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive love #tw manipulation #cw manipulation

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