#raw unedited fic

[heartstringsduet]

thanks for tagging me @goodways and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut ✨ She's reaching for the First Aid kit again ;) TW: Mention of drugs

“What’s gotten into you?” Carlos asks sharply, pulling TK away from his looping thoughts. “Are you drunk already?” It’s the tone Carlos uses when they’re arguing about something. Something serious like class privileges. Or something silly like Pizza Hawaii that surprisingly got heated, too. TK remembers bringing Carlos a slice of pineapple filled pizza to tease him the next time they met. A way to say ‘just like you, I can be casual about anything and what will you do about it?’ TK remembers the flicker between quiet confusion and annoyance on Carlos’ face as he accepted the slice. It’s the same expression he wears now.  “Kennedy?” Oh? Oh. “Yes, Car-los?” His name feels so good on his tongue TK repeats it quietly. “Carlos.” Now Carlos frowns. That’s no good. That’s worse in fact. TK draws closer, so close the worry seems to leap at TK, too. He made a mistake. Before Carlos can ask the right question, read the answer in his blown pupils, TK slips away again.  “Gotta go say hi to…to Tom or something. You know him. Tom something something gap between his teeth. Anyway, see you around,” TK yells before he pushes through the small crowd. He doesn’t get far. How? Why? Hadn’t he moved super fast? He looks back to see what stopped him. Just like he had before, Carlos has him by one arm. “Wait,” Carlos orders and TK only knows how to follow when his voice gets like this. Cool fingers lift TK’s chin. Quickly, TK looks down and goes cross eyed to avoid Carlos seeing his eyes. “Hey, are you okay?” Carlos pauses and that drags as much as anything else right now. Carlos' voice and face are so intense TK has to bite back a laugh. He forgets to avoid his eyes for it. Carlos' are are dark, so dark. The light breaks in them, looks like stars, not that TK has seen many in New York. TK feels starlit, star-seen, looking at Carlos. “Yeah I’m super fine. Never been better, actually,” TK says, grinning. “Okay that one time, in grade school, my mom took me to dim sum. On Spring Street. You know it? We have to go one day. Their Xiao—, xiao— Xialin—, ugh their soup dumplings are to die for. They’re super hot though. You got to blow on them before you eat them—” “Kennedy—” “If you don’t like dumplings they have—” “Ke—" "But the dumplings are seriously the best so don't actually skip—" "TK!" Carlos forces TK's mouth shut with the hand still on his chin. "TK? I think someone might have mixed something into your drink.”

I tag: @welcometololaland , @rmd-writes , @wandering-night19 ; @noxsoulmate ; @strandnreyes ; @paperstorm ; @lightningboltreader , @liminalmemories21 ; @alrightbuckaroo @chaotictarlos @thebumblecee ; @wtfuckevenknow @lemonlyman-dotcom

and youuuu who I didn't tag, please share something <33

#tarlos #tarlos fic #first aid #michelle writes #wip wednesday #tw: mention of drugs #this is still unedited and raw #also pls don't feel obligated to share/like if this isn't for you #regarding the tw but also in general #this fic kind of might not be for everyone?

[madredhattie]

I really should be asleep but instead I’m picking at various fic WIPs I’ve started up in the last month or so. Dropping a snippet down here because while I’m fond of what it’s about, it doesn’t fit the flow. Be free, little snippet!

-------------------------------------

Such as his duties as a Subway Boss.

Just a few weeks ago, he’d officially rejoined the Battle Subway - as a Depot Agent, wearing the olive green uniform. Though Nimbasa City had celebrated the return of its lost Subway Boss with great fanfare (and what a feeling that was, to know that he had been missed by so many!) his ongoing patchwork memory prevented him from returning to his old station immediately. 

It was for the best, really - though setting foot inside Gear Station had felt like sliding into a much loved and worn coat, the sheer volume of everything had proven overwhelming. On top of that readjustment, there were certifications to undergo, hands-on training to fill in the gaps that remained in his mind, and all manner of other safety checks before Ingo could truly resume conducting battles with skilled trainers.

He wore the black conductor’s cap still. It was the one thing Emmet had pulled rank on, a visual reminder to everyone who saw Ingo that one day, the twin brothers would once again conduct the battle lines side by side. It would just take time.

#this is raw and unedited word spew from my notes app #no context at all it's cute but it does NOT fit the flow of the fic it spun out of alas #hello. it's me. mads. i'm writing fanfic for the train twins. #pokemon #submas #i've got about... two one shots well on their way to being written #a third nebulously outlined which may or may not continue #and a fourth idea that. actually is sad but i would spin it to happy in the end #i just heard my roommate shriek laugh from upstairs right before i posted this i guess ofmd s2 is going well

[valen-dreth]

okkkkkkkk

#VERY special chapter i hope u all like it. #this is completely raw and unedited i might do a complete edit before the next one #next is where the magic happens 🤫 #fawkes fics #season's end #oc: calian #arvel the swift

[ladytauria]

ughhh need to stop browsing tumblr & start editing

but i don’t wanna

#oh to be 13 again #just throwing up fics unedited & raw #my posts

[xob1tchs]

(i completely understand if you don’t wanna do this, no pressure babe) but can i have a fic where readers on her period n mentions that apparently orgasms help w cramps (kinda as a joke) but ethan’s more than willing to they fuck??

THANK YOU THANK YOU 🙏🙏

we’ll be so good

fem!reader x ethan landry

warnings; fingering, mentions of blood, period sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight dumbification, pet names (babe, baby, angel) unedited so spelling & grammar errors.

a/n; this is the title inspo, bc ethan is lowk the weeknd coded 🫣 and babe…i can write u anything u want xx

You’re curled up in Ethan’s dorm, face buried in his blanket, body drowning in his hoodie paired with a pair of boy short panties, eyes screwed shut as another wave of cramps washes over you. You groan out in pain, flinching when the door opens, rolling over to see a sweaty Ethan slip inside. He’d left for the gym after his last class, texting you to let you know his dorm room was unlocked, and you’d taken the unspoken offer graciously. Periods are always more manageable when you can cry and whine in Ethan’s bed, earning soft coos and praises in return.

He tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the overflowing laundry basket m, before he tugs the door to their wardrobe open “cramps bad again baby?” he questions, riffling through the heaps of close in search of a towel, you hum and he clicks his toungue, sighing “i wish i could help babe” he mumbles.

You hum again, shifting to sit up on your calves, hand between your legs to keep you stable. You let your eyes wander, gaze darkening as you watch the taut muscles in his back flex as he continues looking, and you feel a familiar feeling stir in your tummy “well actually maybe you can” you mutter, head tilting as you recall an article you’d read among your search for more effective methods than pamprin and warm compresses.

He turns to look at you, brows raising in curiosity, tossing a towel over his shoulder. Your fingers anxiously toy with the fabric of sheets, but the ache in your abdomen is over ruling any embarrassment.

“orgasms can help with cramps”

Ethans eyes fall hooded, and he tilts his head at you, lips parting as if he’s about to respond – but only silence fills the air in the room.

Now nerves are setting in, and you feel heat rising up your neck, ready to let the ground swallow you whole “but that’s silly- and kind of gross right? i don’t actu-“

“since you’re on your period does that mean we get to do it raw?”

Your words are cut short, mouth falling open, eyes widening as you watch Ethan toss the towel to the ground; already padding across the room to stand infront of you.

His fingers trail across where your breasts poke through the fabric of his hoodie, to the hem against your thighs, before he’s tugging at it gently — your arms instinctively raising, letting him drop the fabric to the floor “let me help you” he says softly, hand’s cupping your hips, smoothing up your sides, gently skimming over your breasts until the reach your shoulders, squeezing in reassurance

“o-okay” you stutter in a breath, back hitting his mattress with a thump, stomach falling flat against your rib cage as his fingers wonder down your bare skin the the hem of your panties “but- i can take these off” you grip his wrist, eyes widening at the thought of your boyfriend taking your period diaper off.

He chuckles, to strong for you to to keep in place, fingers hooking in the elastic of both your panties and the dark material of your so called period panties, tugging them both down with a shake of his head, letting them fall to the floor by his feet “you act like i don’t change the trash when you’re on your period – stop over thinking” he mumbles, fingers trailing down your pelvis, reaching the best between your legs, pulling your lips apart revealing your pussy to his view.

he sucks in a breath, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit, cooing when you squirm under the pressure “should I prep you? stretch this little pussy out with my fingers? hmm?” he mumbles, fingers already trailing down your folds, teasing your core.

You feel heat spread across your face, face turning to look away from him, hips twitching when he slips it in to the first knuckle, curling as he toys with your aching walls “tell me you want it baby” he tsks, chuckling at your poor attempt to slink down, hoping for his fingers to plunge inside of you.

“I-i want it e” you whine, blinking away any self doubt, lips parting in a frown.

“that’s good baby” he hums, stuffing three fingers in at once prompting you to whine out, jaw falling open at the sudden stretch, pussy walls contracting around him. Crooning out a praise “so tight, always” you gasp at his words, hips jerking when he spreads his fingers, stretching you open.

Your back arched off the bed when his thumb presses to your clit, rubbing in harsh circular motions, your thighs clamping around his wrist “feels good” you cry, thighs resisting as he pushes at the, burning from his strength as he forces them wide open.

“you’re so sensitive, so cute” he smiles down at you sweetly, eyes shining with adoration as he watches you writhe below him,. His smile on widens when he slips his fingers out and you cry his name, pleading for him to keep going, he ignored you, fingers gripping the waist band of his sweats, staining them with the maroon liquid coating his fingers. They fall to his ankles, underwear not found – that makes you clench around nothing, eyes round and amazed when his cock stands straight up against his pelvis, tip below his belly button.

He grips his cock around the base, hips rolling forward to tease his tip against your cunt, ghosting over your clit; gathering a mix of wetness and blood “ready for me baby?” he mumbles in a gentle tone, cock slipping past your lips, protruding at your whole softly.

You whine, skull digging into the mattress, legs spreading impossibly wider “yes yes, please I’m ready” your answer is punctuated with a swift thrust, cock plunging into you in one motion, pussy stretching around him with a delicious burn.

You grips the meat of your thighs, tugging ass a little over the edge of his bed, before he pulls almost completely out save for the tip, and thrusts back in, quickly setting a fast and deep pace.

He fucks into you, balls slapping against your ass loudly, your arousal and blood creaming out around the base of his cock, dripping to stain the carpet. Your hands grip his comforter and sheets harshly, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth hanging open as a never ending string of moans and whines flee free. He’s completely sheathed on your cock, gummy and swollen walls clenching around him with a death grip, swallowing his cock back up with every thrust.

You always enjoy sex with Ethan, but the period hormones have gone straight to your pussy, creating an immense pleasure, mind muddled with the thought of Ethan and his cock, fucking you until you can barely breath. You croon, eye lids fluttering as you struggle to keep your eyes open, palm reaching to press against his abdomen “it’s too much, it’s-it’s! I’m gonna cum babe, e please” your words slip out a jumbled mess, eyebrows frowning as Ethan fucks into you even harsher, dark eyes focused on the way drool has begun to slip past the corners of your mouth.

His hand trails flatly down your thigh, until his fingers reach your pussy, and his fingers begin to toy with your clit, making you cry out in shock “that’s right baby, cum for me, want you screaming on the cock angel” he practically growls, a chuckle following when you gasp out, breath falling silent as your real ease washes over you, your hips twitch and jerk, pussy gushing mixed wetness around him, making an absolute mess as he makes shallow and gentle thrusts, fucking you through your high.

When you come down, you swear you’re seeing stars, mind a mess as Ethan pulls out, man handling you into a straddling position sitting; sitting you back down on his cock, causing your over stimulated pussy to clench and spasm “threes the charm yeah? know you can give me more than that” he kisses your temple, and you can only slump forward into his chest, humming in a mindless agreement.

#scream iv #scream 6 #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #scream smut #🖤 ; lex talks 2 anons! #my inbox 🫧

[i-luvsang]

just because — jung wooyoung

1.2K MILESTONE EVENT ☆ CLOSED gn!reader , fluff , cw : none but i think i’m crying a little , unedited , wc : 0.6K , nadia !! tysm for sending in two requests and feeding my event hehe. i hope you enjoy this even though it’s not quite the traditional fic format/style ! @justhere4kpop

when wooyoung loves, he loves hard. he loves like your laugh is his favorite precious gem, like he wants it raw and natural, or set in metal to hang around his neck and hold close to his heart until the day he dies. he loves like your face, your body are his home, like the sight of you alone brings him a comfort so true he doubts he could explain it out loud. wooyoung loves like your voice is a song made just to put his heart at ease, made just to make him fall in love over and over and over again.

so when wooyoung misses you, he misses you hard. he misses like he’d do anything to see you right now, he misses like everything reminds him of you, then you again. wooyoung misses as if he’s homesick, so homesick that sometimes he cries. 

and he misses everything. he misses you, of course; your laugh, your face, your voice, the silly little things you whisper into his ear. he especially misses making you laugh, kissing your face, his voice mixing with yours. he wants to do the silly little things that make you just a little bit annoyed, to hold your hand when it’s cold, to feel your lips on his, just to be with you.

but when he’s away, there’s nothing he can do. he hates he’s not with you, but he loves this new habit. the one where he face-times you any moment he can, and you pick up any moment you can. though he can’t be with you, he can hear your laugh, see your face, and adore your voice.

so he learns for that to be enough, for that to be a new kind of joy, an excitement at random points in the day. it’s always so lovely, no matter how short, what words are exchanged, and now it happens when he’s ten minutes from your place, his connection lagging in the back of a taxi. everywhere, and anywhere, he’s calling you. he’s showering and neither of you can hear each other, but it doesn’t matter to you. because you’re at work, with only one earbud connected to filter the sound of running water into your ear, and the image of your computer screen more in your focus than his bathroom ceiling. but either way, he’s there, and so are you.

many days he’s in the practice room, calling you just to see your face for a few minutes at a time. whoever’s sitting next to him always says hi, and you wave back, just grateful to be a part of his life everywhere he goes.

you love to see him backstage, the seconds after a performance that he has to spare, because he knows how much you want to see his smile, the one that’s just a bit brighter from the joy of his passion. he loves to catch a glimpse of the restaurant your at during another company dinner before he has to go.

and countless times, he’s fallen asleep to the sound of your voice. he likes to complain about how many screenshots of him like that you have saved in your phone. 

you are his everywhere, his everything, and he is yours. you are the bus you take to work, he is the van he rides around in. you are the coziness of the room and the art print that he sees beside your head when you’re calling him from the comfort of your bed. he’s the clean mirrors of the dance room that you’ve never visited personally, but know so well. you’re orange-tinted street lamps on the way home, internet lagging when he wishes he could kiss you.

by now you know he’s not face-timing just to see your face, or just to hear your voice, your laugh, but rather because those things about you mean everything to him, in so many ways. because he loves so hard, and so deep, and misses you just as much.

#cromernet #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung drabble #wooyoung scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez wooyoung scenarios #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fluff #jung wooyoung #ateez jung wooyoung #ateez reactions #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #ateez x gender neutral reader #wooyoung x gn reader #wooyoung imagines

[romanianseba]

Just A Walk

What happens when you wake up on your dad's best friend's bed come morning? Is he as unyielding as he constantly seems to be?

Pairing: dad’s best friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: age gap, reader is twenty (bucky is thirty-nine), sexual tension, mentions of sex, explicit content, smutty smut, dirty talk, adult talk, fluff ?? 18+ only

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: pov: after reading all those countless dbf!bucky fics, now you're wondering what would actually happen the morning after you let the spark start the fire with your dad's best friend.

—

hello! a pretty chill, hot, fluffy lil fic that I hope you enjoy very much!!!!!, makes you smile, inspires you, whatever. love you guys thanks for staying around and always being so kind to me<3 let me know what you think ????!!!! (this has been on my drafts for months cause i had plans to continue but.... hehe)

"What are you doing?" Your voice comes out groggy, thick with sleep as you pat hair out of your face and rub your eyes.

He stands at the other side of the room. Giving you only a side glance that last a second when you speak. Right before diving back into his task at hand; looking for whatever he wants to take from his dresser.

And if you were a bit more awake and on your senses you wouldn't have missed the way he literally froze when he realized he had woken you up.

"I'm going for a walk," He replies, sounding distant and avoiding eye contact with you as he goes to sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on.

A harsh contrast to the intense eye contact he had going on a few hours ago as he railed you on his mattress. Two rough fingers inside your mouth while he hold your face in place, forcing you to keep your eyes on his with each hard trust of his hips.

"Right now? Today?" You push on your elbows to take a look at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand, confirming your suspicion that it is, in fact, before sunrise.

"Yes."

You frown, your student brain unable to understand why.

"Why?" Why?

Why this early?

Why at 5:30 AM on bloody Sunday?

He chuckles under his breath, tying his sneakers fast, "I have a routine, baby."

"I see that," You mutter absently, your mind already taking a moment to just take the man in.

He's glorious. It's difficult for you to think of a more beautiful man. Even when your imagination is so vivid and can get so creative, you couldn't possibly create a person in your head that rivals his beauty.

It doesn't come close to a magazine male model, it's far better.

Bucky's though and raw, with imperfect hot features, unedited; he's real.

Right in front of you; you are in his bed; and you can't wrap your head around it.

His long bed hair tangling in every direction, some rebel strands falling over his face. The comfy thick sweatpants he's now wearing; very innocent, except they're hanging dangerously low on his hips. So low, your thighs squeeze together as you briefly take sight of his happy trail while he slips on a sweater and his white t-shirt riddles up for a second.

And he notices. Of course he notices.

And he gives in. Finally looking you down, laying on his bed, taking in your naked form under his sheets.

Your attention perks up and you feel vaguely more awake when you catch his eyes on you, finally. Your heart skips a beat when he takes you in.

Just like yesterday night.

And you can almost see the flashbacks swimming in his head. Your small body squirming under his. Flashbacks that you both share now. His big thick fingers buried deep inside your warm and tight center, working you wonderfully. Flashbacks from the night you two finally ignored all the logical reasons both your heads had on why you shouldn't fuck each other and gave in to each other's fantasies. His experienced tongue and fingers making you come undone beneath him once or twice before finally taking you.

All the scenes running quickly through his mind —allowing you to fall sleep over his chest afterwards, and not getting that much sleep at all himself— taking him to the present moment.

Your body blinding all his common sense again. After finally knowing how good it feels in his hands, how soft, he was all the more eager to touch you again. Your legs tightly shut and a hint of a smile tugs at his mouth seeing the effect he has on you; a little, sweet, innocent–looking, beautiful girl.

Half his age... and his best friend's daughter.

Suddenly his eyes rip from you, like a coming out of a fantasy, like a bubble has been popped. And he's back to staring at the floor and avoiding your existence in his room. In his bed.

Your heart drops.

But your lips keep the little, youthful, stupid smile that has been there since yesterday night when you sneaked into his house at midnight. With high hopes and an aching cunt, and he didn't kick you out.

What confused you the most was not his distant attitude, but his very active demeanor so early in the morning, he looked fresh and fully awake. Something you were still trying to cope with, your eyes begging you to close them again.

And how does he do it when you, unbeknownst to anyone, clearly see his lights going off well past midnight each day? Staying up till late watching YouTube videos from your bed while keeping an eye on Bucky's bedroom, who's window was conveniently aligned with yours from the house next door.

"How come you wake up so early when you go to sleep so late most days?"

"Like I said, I have a routine," He states firmly as he goes to grab one last piece of clothing to keep warm outside in the already freezing autumn weather. "You better go back home before your parents find out you're not in bed." His voice is firm and authoritarian.

And your insides tighten because that's just how he sounded yesterday when he asserted his dominance over you.

"Don't fucking move."

"Bucky," You whimpered, pussy already sensitive and abused, stubble burning your thighs deliciously as he licked his way through your second orgasm. "Please... please, just– just take me already."

He growled, hands strongly pinning down your hips, "I'm gonna fucking take you whenever I feel like it."

You'll be lying if you said that alone didn't make you so damn wet again.

"I wanna go on a walk with you." Throwing the soft white sheets off your body, you stand up hastily.

"What?" Is his immediate response. Eyes snapping back to your side of the room. "No."

That word alone like a warning.

"Yes, I want to." You persist, enthusiastically.

"You have to get to your house."

His tone of voice is dead serious, but his brain is losing it every passing second as he watches you stand there naked. Eyes burning holes all over your body.

"I love walks."

Trying your best to ignore the intensity of his gaze on your skin, you reach to pick up your abandoned underwear thrown by his desperate hands onto the floor hours ago. Panties going quickly up your legs and clasping your bra before he speaks again.

It takes all the will power he's ever mustered to tear his eyes from you and pace around the room, gathering his stuff to leave as soon as possible. "You can't come with me. Save a moment to go by yourself later– after you've had breakfast, I don't know."

His voice still assertive, but now there's a desperate edge to his tone; his logic trying to convince himself this is a bad idea, trying come up with stuff to stop him from spending more time with you.

"Please," You beg lightheartedly, Unbothered about his seriousness, slipping the pair of sweatpants and old shirt you wore to sneak out of your house back on and being thankful for your outfit choice. Which will not serve as excuse to not go on a walk, you'll be covered enough against the early morning cold.

Knowing it wouldn't be a matter of seeing you wearing revealing clothes for Bucky anymore you had chosen to go with comfiness over looking appealing. Truth be told, he would've taken you even if you were wearing a potato bag with how long you both had dragged the teasing and tension between each other.

Fully dressed, you continue your persuasion. "It should be fun. Besides it's Sunday, they won't be up till later."

He stops abruptly when reaching to unplug his charging phone, deciding he's had enough. Turning back to face you, this time he makes sure to look into your eyes.

"Listen, doll, we're not–" He cuts himself short, deciding he doesn't want to just be a jerk and possibly hurt your feelings.

Slowly scanning your soft, young face and wide eyed expectant expression, he takes a few short calming breaths. Decisive but softer this time, he continues. "We should've talked about this earlier. You shouldn't have even stayed the night over. We're not a couple, alright? We..."

"I know about casual sex, Bucky." You cut him off in a know-it-all tone of voice, close to rolling your eyes at him.

He strides closer, stopping right in front of you. Fresh mint breath fanning on your face with how close his frame looms over yours, big and tall.

The exasperate fire picking up in his voice and expression again.

"Then you understand that you going on a walk with me, suddenly being part of my routine, after casual sex, would imply more than that."

You know how he feels. And, deep down, of course you feel stupid, too. But you're not ready to leave him alone in his misery. You're not ready to be alone in yours.

And you definitely want more of him. Having experienced last night you know sex will never be the same for you, not if it's not with Bucky. And you won't risk having him push you away so soon.

Thankfully for both of you, he was one of the very few people you trusted with your life and his rage didn't make you feel unsafe. Maybe flinch a bit, maybe if you were completely honest it turned you on a bit; but it certainly didn't make you feel at risk at all.

So even when you're not usually argumentative, or the most confident person, and would have already given up with basically everyone else; meekly giving them the reason, you refuse to right now. And it's possibly the most stubborn moment of your life.

"C'mon, everyone can go on a walk. You think it's a Bucky Barnes thing?" You scoff and tease him playfully. "We just happen to be two people that know each other and decided to go and have a walk together for not having anything else to do this bloody early in the morning. I can't go back to sleep and I'm going on a walk, too." Your gaze is challenging now.

Bucky Barnes was convinced that your stubborn and sometimes confident personality was going to add five years to his life and suck five from him at the same time.

Jaw tightly clenched and a very faint spark of amusement in his eye, he growls lowly.

"You don't fucking give up, do you?"

The eye contact you had manage to keep falters and you swallow, suddenly becoming nervous. Your naturally nonconfrontational and calm state of existing unable to maintain the confident facade for longer.

"I— uhm, I promise I won't talk much, won't bother you." You mumble.

His hard features soften immediately, voice a gentle whisper as he shakes his head.

"You don't fucking bother me when you speak, doll," His eyes searching for yours to insist on it; "Get that out of your pretty head."

He lets out a long and tired sigh, stepping away briefly to reach into his reach-in closet and a drawer before approaching you again.

"Here," He hands you a coat and goes to roll a beanie down your head. "Don't want you to catch a cold.

You can't hide your gleeful smile when you realize he's allowed you to join him.

"Thanks."

"This won't happen again." He announced, his hands arranging the warm blue beanie over your head.

Your smile falters a bit, looking up to him, a knot going up your throat causing you to stammer.

"What? This..."

"What? Are you worrying I won't fuck you again, dirty little thing?" His smirk is smug and self-satisfied.

A calloused palm goes up to the side of your neck as he, very slowly, leans down to gravelly whisper in your ear. "You felt too good to give that up so soon, sweet cheeks."

His intention clear to torture you. The innocent, feather-like lick and tug of his teeth at your earlobe confirm it to you.

Facing you again, he stares for a while; blue eyes locked on yours, his nose an inch from yours. Small baby face against his older, mature one. Your mouth goes dry.

"It's the last time you beg to do anything else with me that is not screw around. And as soon as we come back you're slipping your ass back to bed." A pause, "Your own."

You can't argue back on that.

"Fine."

–

"Where are we going on your bike? The park's two blocks from here."

Trailing behind him into the garage, you frown when you see him taking his big, stunning, motorcycle ready.

"Not going there today. I see Mr. Wilson and a few others walking there every day. I don't want any nosy neighbors running their mouths to your dad about it." His answer is fast, like it's a thought that's been going around his head all this time.

Holding a bike helmet in each hand, he approaches you again.

"This shouldn't be weird. I mean, you're always at my house. People know you're basically an uncle to me." You express mindlessly, finding it funny that he wants to avoid you in public all of a sudden.

"Stop," He hisses through gritted teeth and closes his eyes, focusing on breathing calmly through his nose after the guilt-ridden mental slap he just experienced with what you said. "Just– do not say that again."

"Okay," You say just above a whisper, biting your tongue before he regrets letting you go with him.

Sighing he places one helmet on top of the almost sparkling seat of his bike and lifts his hands to help you into the other one. Carefully covering your head with the heavy black material and doing all the safety checks himself; making sure it's comfortable and placed correctly.

His eyes fall on yours after he's pleased with it, hands resting on each side of your head; over the helmet. You stare back, like suddenly being trapped under a spell. His eyes are gentle this time, and the moment feels so intimate, so warm and lovely, you feel heat warming your cheeks.

Just two people who are madly attracted to each other, staring into each other's soul... at least that's how it feels to you. Lasting both an eternity and simply not enough.

Breaking the spell, popping the bubble, slapping you out of a daze; you jump a little, getting startled when he slides the helmet faceshield down.

Ending the intimate eye contact and the spell you were both in.

"Is it comfortable?" He ask, and you're glad to realize he too sounds slightly out of breath.

"Yeah, just a little heavy." You breathe out. "But it's okay."

He nods, his thumb wiping away a dusty spot on the black tinted faceshield. A light frown, caused probably by intense overthinking, permanent on his handsome face.

"Good."

#dad's best friend!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #older!bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky barnes x reader #dad's best friend!bucky barnes #dbf!bucky barnes #neighbor!bucky barnes x reader #dbf #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #dad's best friend!bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader oneshot #older!bucky barnes #dad's friend!bucky barnes #dad's best friend #dad's best friend trope #dbf!bucky x reader #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky barnes one shot #bucky imagine #bucky x reader

[justagalwhowrites]

i’m interested to see how joel would react to doc getting killed!! or bitten…. i love the angst tbh! 😅 maybe during that awkward time period where they weren’t really talking but still hooking up.. they still loved eachother so much couldn’t say it because they “hated” eachother 😮

OMG Hi Bestie! 

OK so because I'm a masochist (who shares in this fun hobby of tormenting myself with images of pain with someone who shall remain nameless) I've thought about this a lot. Shared below, with permission, is some of the noodling I've done on this topic with the aforementioned anonymous person who likes to give me INCREDIBLY ANGSTY AND DEPRESSING THOUGHT EXERCISES I SWEAR THIS IS A TWO WAY STREET Y'ALL. Please note that none of this is in story format and Doc is she instead of you because that's how I think about the fic in abstract terms? I guess? I don't know lol it's a mess in my head.

ANYWAY 

Putting this below the cut because it's probably a step beyond angst. I cannot stress enough that this is like... super depressing and also COMPLETELY RAW AND UNEDITED, all I did was pull out comments/prompts from the other person out of respect for them. So please limit your judgement as much as possible this stuff is real bad lol 

Below is Joel if she got bit on the Harvard run.

how terrified he was when he thought she might be bitten, how the first place his mind went was "I can kill her and I'll only need to be around for a few seconds after she's gone"If she got bit and he needed to kill her, he'd try so hard to keep it together for her. She'd be low key panicking and be like "Please don't let me turn into one of those things, please just kill me, please" and he'd just brush her hair back and hold her face in his hand all gentle and be like "I won't baby, not gonna let you go through that, OK? I've got you, it's OK. It'll be real quick, won't feel a thing and I'll be right behind you, OK? I'm right behind you, it's OK" and he'd hold her when he did it so she didn't feel alone and he'd keep holding her when he did it to himself, too

If Doc died in the tub the night that Joel left her in the QZ 

Joel is trying to avoid herTommy goes to the clinic that day and she's not there, which he expects because she's not supposed to be there on Sundays, but hears someone say her name and how they aren't sure how they're going to cover everything without her and there's a "...I still really miss her" at the end and he's like "wtf' and so he asks until he finds someone who will actually talk to him and he's like "no, we're old friends, I just haven't seen her in a few weeks, what happened?" and Marta just kinda looks at him like "how can you not know this" and says "She died. They weren't really sure how, if she did it on purpose or if she passed out but she drowned in her bathtub" and Tommy is, of course, reeling because he loved her, too. But he's also like "Oh fuck I have to tell Joel" and he's kind of in a daze and just walks around the QZ for a few hours and he gets home and Joel is just like "the fuck is your problem" and he's like "Joel... brother, you... I need you to sit down, OK? Need you to just... stay calm for me, OK?" and he says her name and then kinda stops and Joel gets this bad feeling and is like "what" and Tommy is quiet and he's like "what, Tommy. What is it. She fuck up something else, what'd she do, what's going on" and he's just like "She's dead, Joel." and Joel is silent for a minute and then asks what happened and how and Tommy really doesn't want to tell Joel what they told him and so Joel just gets up and Tommy tries to stop him and he's like "Don't fucking touch me" and he goes to Andrew's and he pounds on the door until Andrew answers and Andrew looks like hell, he's lost weight and he looks like he's hardly slept and he looks kind of dead in the eyes until he sees Joel and then he just looks like he wants to just set him on fire and he's like "The fuck are you doing here"

and Joel is like "what happened, you have to know what happened, please, fuck, please tell me what happened to her" and Andrew shoves him and just yells "You! You happened, you fucking happened! She died that night you fucking asshole, she lived for you and she fucking died for you, too. I hope you're fucking happy" and Joel is just practically frozen there and just lets Andrew wail on him for a minute before he looks at him and goes "you must fuckin hate me, right?" "Oh I more than hate you you fucking..." "Good. Kill me. Don't... don't care how just... please, fuck just..." and Andrew just kind of laughs at him darkly and says "No, no I'm not doing you any fucking favors, Miller. I have to live with the fact that I left her alone that night. You get to live with the fact that her blood's on your hands." Jess pulls Andrew back inside and Joel just trudges home but Tommy is kind of waiting for him, he's already stashed all the guns and the knives and he got Tess because he knows what Joel is like when he loses someone like thatand Joel only asked Andrew to do it because he couldn't risk flinching again, he had to do it right this time and he goes for where he keeps his gun as soon as he's in the door and it's gone and Tommy is just crying and he's like "Joel, you can't, I'm sorry..." and he's like "Just give me the fuckin' gun, Tommy! I can't do this, not again, I can't, I can't" and he just drops to his knees and Tommy holds onto him Tommy and Tess take turns, he's literally never alone for months. Eventually they think he can be trusted on his own and he's OK for a while but I think it wouldn't take all that long before he's gone, too it wouldn't be as obvious as a gun, it'd be him making a stupid mistake and getting bit or shot or an accident on a job in the qzand all the time in between he'd be such a shell of himself, Tess and Tommy always sharing a look when it's especially bad like "this has to get better at some point, right?"and when it eventually happens, neither Tess or Tommy are ever sure if it's really an accident or not. Joel wasn't really sure either, he just knew that the last thing he thought of was that last morning before Doc flew back to New York where he got her pregnant in the water and her and Sarah made French toast

SO YEAH that's just the most depressing shit in the world lol 

LOVE YOU!!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #send asks #kit answers #lavender

[obxone]

Rafe's Actions (Part 1)

Unedited-- ~2.6k words

I wasn't sure I would post this. It feeds off another longer fic that I have been working out and starting to write. It'll be longer (like 20 or so parts), but this one is only two. It's dark and it's vulnerable.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, non-con attempt, dark elements.

You couldn’t believe it had happened as it had. It had started out as a magical night and so promising. Never did you dream that you would see that side of him directed at you. You had seen it before, plenty of times, but it had just never been directed at you. Others had warned you, told you to be careful, and you hadn’t listened. You thought you could be the one to soften him. 

You stared at the blacktop, the cold numb coating you like a blanket of ice, while you walked down the empty road. It was nearing midnight and the rain storm had cleared out. You were soaked to the bone, cold and muddy. Your feet ached and were raw from walking several miles barefoot through Kildare. You knew you couldn’t go home, not like this. You didn’t feel safe there anyways. He knew how to get to you anywhere you could go, but one place. The Chateau. 

You moved off the road when you got to the driveway leading to your refuge. You hadn’t even worked through what you would say or do about what happened. There was no lie you could tell that would excuse your appearance or even your mental state right now. How you could explain what happened to you without them flipping out? 

It was only getting colder as the wind seemed to pick up now that you were getting closer to the marsh. You wrapped my arms around your waist, hugging yourself for warmth, relieved to see the Chateau come into view. 

Pope’s voice called out your name once you rounded the corner of the house and stepped into the backyard. You looked up from the muddy drive to see him and the other pogues rising from their places around a small fire. Relief washed through you and a fresh set of tears sprung up now that you were finally safe. You had made it before he had a chance to find you. 

“Oh my god,” Sarah rose from John B’s lap. Her eyes were wide. 

You looked nothing like you had earlier tonight. The beautiful summer dress that Sarah had helped you pick out was ruined. Mud caked on the hem, blood staining near the rips of the fabric where he had dug into your skin trying to hold you down. The skirt was hanging half off torn near your hip and the top half was slightly torn displaying the white lace bra you had on that was now also stained with mud and blood. You had fallen in your attempts to get away from him. The sod of the golf course was unforgiving in a rainstorm.

It happened in a blur, hands touching you. A warm palm cradled the side of your ace as brown eyes stared back at you. 

“What happened?” Sarah asks. Her tone full of worry. “What did he do?” She pleaded as you stared at the fire in the distance. Warmth. 

You press past her nearing the fire. You hiss from the harsh burn of the fire's warmth seeping into your cold and raw skin. 

“Hey, hey,” JJ comes closer as the others all stared wide-eyed. His touch is gentle as he guides your chin to look at him. “What happened?”

“We got in an argument,” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. Your voice cracked as you tried to explain. “He.. h-he… Ummm.” You shift, wrapping your arms tighter. Pope comes closer, but you shake your head pulling away from him. “I just need a minute,” you be, stepping too close to the fire oblivious to how easily your skirt could catch. Your focus instead was on not being touched too much. 

“Okay,” he reassures you taking a step back, his hands lifted. JJ removes his hand from your face and takes a small step back. 

“What do you need Baby?” JJ asks, his voice gentle, full of caution.

“We need to get you checked out,” Kiara speaks up. You don't look at her and she says your name, her voice shaking. “Can we call someone? An ambulance? The police?”

“No police,” You hear yourself respond, a sharp edge to your voice, while clinching your hands into fists so hard your nails pierce the skin of your palms. “No police.”

“Okay, no police,” JJ says. He reaches for you again, but you turn your face away.

John B shifts in your peripheral vision. His hands lifted in caution as well. “Did Rafe do this?”

You could hear the venom in his voice and see JJ’s jaw tick as he grows angry at the realization. Your heart clenches at the mention of his name. You sob harder as your legs weaken and you collapse into the dirt.

“Okay, that’s enough for now,” Pope comments moving closer but you flinch away. Your fingers dig into the dirt at your knees as you try to focus on breathing and not having another panic attack.  

“She needs an ambulance!” Kie cries. 

“No!” You shake your head. “He’s a kook, no consequences.”

“She’s right,” JJ spoke, his voice laced with so much anger. 

Pope cleared his throat, lowering his hands. “Can we carry you inside? We need to see your injuries if we can’t call an ambulance.”

“I’m okay,” you respond, your body sagging with exhaustion. “I’ll be fine right here.”

“No, you won’t,” Kie says, her voice broken as she cries behind you. “Please let us call someone or get you inside.” She gets closer, her hands on your back. You shake your head, but don’t push her touch away and she takes it as a cue. “Sarah, help me!”

Sarah moves quickly to wrap her arm across your back and they lift you to your feet. 

“Someone get the door,” Sarah says as she stares at you, gauging if you are being pushed too far. Pope races ahead of you all. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him!” JJ seethes behind you, but you don’t hear anything else as the door closes behind you and they usher you to the bathroom. You are lowered onto the toilet lid while Kiara digs in John B’s medicine cabinet and sink storage for a first aid kit. 

“How does a shower sound?” Sarah asks crouching at your feet. “It’ll help get you warm and cleaned up a little.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your hand grasping hers tightly. “Okay.”

She nods and straightens up and turns the shower on blast, the water set to hot. In moments it’s steaming as she turns to grab a towel from the linen closet. She glances at the open bathroom door to see Pope pacing in the hall. “Pope, can you give us some privacy?”

“Sure thing,” he says, scrubbing his hand through his hair with one last look at you and you see the panic and worry clashing inside of him. You knew Pope and you knew he wanted to do the correct thing and call 911, but he wouldn’t, not with you telling him no. 

“She’ll need a change of clothes,” Kie says rising with the kit in hand along with rubbing alcohol and a stack of cotton pads. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

“I’ve got some,” JJ replies, he hesitates at the bathroom door. His blue eyes are glued to you and you can see the war in him raging. He wanted to break Rafe’s face, but just like Pope he wouldn’t because you didn’t want him to. You give him a reassuring nod and he goes quickly into his room you hear drawers opening and closing.

“Okay, come on,” Sarah’s voice is careful and it makes your heart ache more with her being so gentle as she helps you stand and unzips the dress. It falls to the floor and she looks away, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“Dammit,” JJ’s heartbreaking voice says from the door and you look at him as your chin trembles and tears flood your vision. He winces taking it all in before looking away. 

“It’s okay, go,” you hear yourself say and he nods, hanging his head before going to the living room. “I can do the rest,” you say to Sarah, your voice shaking, but your determination to keep some shred of dignity surfacing. She nods and goes with her hand pressed to her mouth to muffle any sounds. 

She shuts the door and you take a look in the mirror and grip the counter to steady yourself at the sight before you. Mud and blood were caked in your hair, your makeup smudged all over your face, and bright red scratches down your throat and chest and on your thighs. Your underwear barely hanging on and an open wound on your ribs. Your lip was busted, a black eye was already showing, a blood trail down from your temple dried to your skin, and a bruising handprint around your neck and collarbone. Your wrists and forearms also bruising with handprints. You look down at your legs cataloging bruises and scratches in various places. Both hips were already bruising from him forcing and holding onto the hard ground and a round dark bruise on your stomach had already formed where he had punched and kicked you.

You turn away and unbuckle your bra before stepping into the shower. You let the hot water sear your skin as the water turns brown at your feet. You use JJ’s body wash and shampoo to get cleaned, hissing when your wounds sting from the suds and the water. The familiar smell bringing you some comfort. 

After the shower, you step out of the bathroom clutching the towel. JJ lifts his head. He had been crying. He sits with his elbows braced on his knees, his hands folded under his chin. Sarah and Kie both come out of the kitchen with John B and Pope hot on their heels. 

“Clothes?” You ask, clutching the towel tighter. 

“On my bed,” JJ gets to his feet and starts to come closer, but you take a step back and see a neatly folded pile on his bed. You go in and shut the door before pulling on the clothes. The gym shorts and the sweatshirt belonged to JJ, but the sports bra you were sure belonged to Kie. You keep the sweatshirt off knowing someone will need to patch up the open wounds. Everyone stares at you when you emerge from JJ’s room. 

“Can I help you?” Sarah asks, the first aid kit in her hand. You nod once, sinking into the empty sofa. JJ clenches his hands into fists as he takes stock of every mark or bruise now that the mud and blood were washed off. She moves closer kneeling on the floor before working on you. You try to muffle any sounds of pain with the deeper wounds as she cleans them with rubbing alcohol. After she finishes patching you she touches the bruises checking for severe damage that would need medical attention. You flinch and dig your nails into the sofa as she presses against the bruise on your stomach. 

“Should we call the cops?” Pope asks.

You shake your hand, hands gripping Sarah’s wrists. “No!”

“Okay, it’s okay,” she whispers. “No cops.”

“Rafe needs to be in jail!” Kiara responds, but you shake your head. You knew how this worked.

“No,” you repeat, your tone final. 

“He won’t. He’s a kook.” JJ gets up and starts to pace after agreeing with you. You let go of Sarah and she resumes her work. Once she’s finished you wince as you pull the sweatshirt on before pulling your messy wet hair out from the collar. 

“Do you have a brush?” You ask looking at John B. He nods going and grabbing it from his room. He returns, but Kie takes it and moves closer. She sits on the back of the couch behind you and slowly beings to brush out your hair. Kiara finishes brushing your hair. Her arms fold around you as she cries squeezing you back into her. You pat her hand and nod, tears gathering in your own eyes again. She lets go and gets up to give the brush back to John B before sitting on the counter near the others. Her brown eyes watching you as she tries to get her emotions under control. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself as you settle into a quiet moment.

“I got you,” JJ says before going into his room. He comes back with a blanket and places it around you to cocoon you in warmth. He starts to move away, but you grasp his hand. He tips his head in question, but another tug lets him know. “Okay,” he whispers before sinking into the sofa next to you, pulling you into his side. His arm wraps over you as you rest curled up into his side. Your legs pulled under the blanket as well with only your head visible.

“Here.” Pope approaches carefully with a water bottle. “You need to drink water.” JJ takes it before removing the cap and handing it to you once you stick your hand out. You take it and sip, appreciating the hydration.

“Thank you, Pope,” you murmur handing the bottle back to JJ. He takes it and screws the lid on before looping his arm back around you. 

“John B,” you say and his head snaps to you. Sarah sat on his lap and they were in their own bubble. You could tell Rafe’s actions had taken a toll on Sarah too. He was her big brother after all. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight? My family is in NYC for a few days.”

“Stay as long as you like Cupcake.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, an attempt of a smile at your favored nickname, and you snuggle back into JJ’s side. You peek up at him and he is watching you. Worry creased his forehead. “Are you staying?”

He nods once before leaning down. His lips pressed to your forehead. “I go anywhere you go right now.”

“Thank you.”

“We are all staying,” Kie says, adjusting her spot on the counter. “We are stronger in numbers and if Rafe comes looking for you I would rather us all be here.”

Everyone verbally agrees with her. 

“Thanks, guys,” you smile weakly. “I’m sorry-”

“Nope,” JJ cuts you off. His head shaking. “Don’t you dare apologize for that asshole!”

— — — —

The next day you wake up to see JJ awake, but still lying next to you. You had fallen asleep on his chest, but he didn’t seem to mind. His arms wrapped around you as you both shared the blanket. His fingers are gentle as they skim across your back eliciting goosebumps. 

“Sleep okay?” He asks. 

You bob your head yes, before putting your head back down and listening to his heartbeat. He sighs, pressing his lips to the crown of your head before looking at the others as everyone seems to stir at once.

“Did you?” You finally ask. 

“I did,” he confirms tightening his arms around you. His fingers now playing with your semi-curly hair after it dried in your sleep.

“Can you take me home?”

He pauses all movements and you lift my head to look at him. “You aren’t going home alone Baby.”

You frown. “I need clothes JJ. And I need a moment to grasp the situation without five pairs of eyes on me.”

He frowns staring at you. You could see the argument rolling through his mind. He didn’t want you out of his sight and if the roles had been reversed you would do the same. 

“Please,” you beg. “Just a few hours and then I come back here. I don’t have my phone, my wallet, or even my house keys on me. You know my mom's one rule.”

“I do,” he huffs before squeezing you tighter again. “I just want you safe.”

“I am. I’m the safest I could be right now.”

He smiles, blushing a little. “Fine. I have to help JB anyways. So four hours, that’s all you get.”

“Deal.”

(Part 2)

#outer banks #obx #outer banks jj #outer banks jj x reader #outer banks fic #obx jj #obx jj x reader #obx fic #obx jj maybank #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader

[stereopticons]

wip wednesday

Thanks for the tags, @kiwiana-writes @hippolotamus @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @apothecarose! I definitely thought I was not going to have anything to post because I hadn’t written anything in a few days but I finally made myself open a few documents to see if I could at least make one sentence and I did a little more than that. So, with 12 minutes left of Wednesday in my part of the world, here is a (completely unedited) snippet from the Manhattan exes to lovers fic:

The problem is that Ray really likes to chat. And worse, he really likes to ask probing questions, the kind that prick and poke at Patrick’s heart until he feels so raw, he could scream. Ray even penciled him in to his podcast schedule for the spring, though Patrick’s not sure he’ll be here that long.

It isn’t much of a surprise, then, when Ray pops his head into Patrick’s room (without knocking) to ask if he’s planning on going to Twyla’s New Year’s Eve party at the cafe. Patrick hadn’t actually been planning to attend—the memories of this time last year are resting heavy on his chest and he thinks he’d much rather be alone with them than in a crowd of people he can barely even call acquaintances. But when he tells this to Ray, he lists all the invitations that Patrick has turned down in the last few weeks. It goes on long enough that the guilt pushes Patrick to give in.

Which is how he finds himself in the cafe at ten minutes to midnight with the strap from a paper party hat cutting into his chin and a glass of zhampagne (and a raisin) in one hand, even though his thoughts are six hundred miles away.

Tags under the cut

@ramonaflow @l56895 @mostlyinthemorning @beaiola @jamilas-pen @rmd-writes @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3 @myheartalivewrites @indestructibleheart @alienajackson @jettestar

#wip wednesday #schitt's creek

[fallenneziah]

"Good Boy."

Ratchet x Optimus ficlet.

Cw: NSFW, Dom/Sub, begging, teasing, heat/rut. Ratchet being a tease.

Notes: Small oneshot, incomplete and just decided to post it anyway. Always open to fic ideas and if this should be a whole thing, let me know. Just an unedited raw draft of some robomen fuckin.

Words: 1.2k roughly.

Optimus breathed in the smell of the clean medbay. His frame quivered against the cool air, though it did nothing to aid the heat that boiled his insides. Cogs churned and cranked angrily the longer they sat there.

Optimus looked up, his optics trained on his mate who wandered the grounds of the medbay nonchalantly. He whined softly to grab his attention, but Ratchet continued on his way. He didn't respond to the first whine, followed by a second he poked his head up.

"Feeling antsy?"

"Ratchet- please…"

"Hmm?" Ratchet turned and leaned back against the counter. He smirked at the way Optimus was powering through every protocol in his system to keep from breaking from the restraints on his pedes. Kneeled on the floor beside the operating table felt silly and degrading. His insides coiled and fuel lines tightened when he saw the look Ratchet gave him.

"Are you being a good boy?"

"Ratchet…" Optimus bit his lip and whined sadly. His fins twitched and his servos tightened. His knees shook and coolant dripped from his frame.

"You're doing so well." Ratchet leaned off the table slowly and walked up to Optimus. Optimus breathed out heavily when Ratchet's cool touch blessed his chin and turned his gaze up with one of his digits.

His helm was centre to Ratchet's crotch plating, the heat of his own anticipation stinging Optimus' enstrils. He could already smell the slick that coated Ratchet's valve lining in. He shuddered and restrained himself from reaching out.

Ratchet hummed happily and nodded. "You are such a good boy. Yes Optimus, you are being so obedient."

Optimus shifted on his knees and whined loudly. "Oh?" Ratchet smirked and cupped Optimus' jaw. "I suppose you want a treat for such well tamed behavior?"

Optimus nodded, panting as the heat swelling in his mesh lining became unbearable.

Ratchet nodded and ran his hand down to his decency plating, pleased as Optimus' optics watched his movements like a hawk.

Ratchet removed the plating and his spike popped out from its port. Pre-overload dribbled down the tip and over the long grooves. The head twitched against Optimus' heavy breaths.

Optimus' mouth was watering at this point. He whimpered as Ratchet stroked his helm to reassure him. Guiding his spike to his lips, Ratchet coaxed Optimus over his spike until half the length disappeared down the Prime's throat.

Ratchet bit his lip and groaned. "Good boy." Optimus whimpered and pressed his glossa along the grooves of Ratchet's spike as it was guided through his mouth. His throat tube relaxed and expanded to easily take the spike down to near the base. Ratchet rocked his hips slowly as Optimus' head came down. A soft groan followed a whimper of happiness from Optimus as he sucked along Ratchet's spike. His tongue swirled and sucked. His lights tightened and his heat coiled angrily.

The overwhelming sensation to throw Ratchet into the wall and pound the valve not two feet from him was immense.

His digits clawed violently into his palms to gain control. His lips tightened against Ratchet's spike until he felt like he would lose it. Optimus pressed down against the base and stroked the underbelly of his spike with his tongue. Ratchet growled happily and pulled Optimus off his spike.

It twitched and ached for more but Ratchet remained apart. Optimus looked up at his medic feverishly and awaited any kind of command. His spike ached and his palms were drenched in coolant.

Ratchet sighed dramatically and walked to the medical berth to Optimus right. He sat down on the edge of the bed and split his legs. Optimus whimpered as Ratchet stroked his mesh lining and pulled back his valve covering.

Optimus' noises grew louder and less controlled as Ratchet slipped a finger into his valve and pulled it out covered in slick lubricants.

"You want this?" Ratchet asked and flashed Optimus a grin.

Optimus nodded furiously as rushed to stand.

"Sit!" Ratchet snarled.

Optimus stilled. His spike twitched wildly as Ratchet rubbed his valve edges and explored the folds with his slickened fingers. Ratchet moaned softly at his own movements and rested his head back gently.

Ratchet pulled his fingers from his valve and looked over Optimus' shaking frame, barely holding onto any Primely decency. His heat made Optimus' a wreck. Even the sight of Ratchet's aft had his wiring so jacked up he couldn't think straight.

But he remained still, optics uncomfortably flicking between Ratchet's gaze and his warm, gasping hole. His engines rumbled with anticipation at the sight and his emotions roared around in his EM field. But he remained ever still.

Ratchet smirked and flicked his fingers in an upward motion. "Alright big boy."

Optimus whimpered happily and stood to his feet. His armor dug into the medical restraints on his legs and snapped the leather. In two seconds flat he pushed Ratchet back onto the berth and hunched over him, keeping him pinned him down on either side with both hands. His spike had been exposed at some point and was greedily moving between Ratchet's folds.

Optimus breathed against the crook of Ratchet's neck and enveloped his scent. The smell of clean armor and cleaner. The ever present scent of Cybertronian primer.

"Ratchet~"

Ratchet hugged Optimus' neck and whispered sweet nothings in his audial. Praising and encouraging him. The heat in the room increased as Optimus opened armor plates to release steam in an attempt to cool his core. His fans roared in the background.

Optimus hunched forward and pressed his spike head against Ratchet's entrance. Ratchet gasped and whined. "Oh Primus- good boy~ so good Optimus."

Optimus shoved his spike inside Ratchet's valve and crumbled under the sweet, wet warmth that greeted him. Calipers brushed his grooves and walls tightened against him. Ratchet's insides writhed in pleasure for the Prime. "Ratchet~ feel so good…" He groaned in Ratchet's audial. Ratchet idly stroked his lover's helm fin until Optimus went from mid-length to base and pressed his hips against Ratchet's.

They groaned in unison and Optimus couldn't stop. He pulled back and snapped his hips until he was going at a good pace. Which quickly sped up until the loud sound of metal against metal filled the empty base.

Ratchet cried out happily as he was pounded into the berth. Optimus had lost it. Kissing and nipping Ratchet's neck as he milked him of stimulation.

Ratchet's helm hit the berth as Optimus pressed his hips into the metal until it bent.

"atta boy- nng!" Ratchet growled between forced breaths. Optimus pulled Ratchet close and drove his spike into him to the point less than three centimeters pulled out before pushing in.

The next week of Optimus' heat was a good one...

#transformers #writing #optimus x ratchet #optiratch #ratchet #tfp ratchet #optimus prime #transformers smut #ficlet #fic writing #heat sex

[mitziholder]

do you feel as negatively about lesbians writing F/F fanfic as you do about the state of fanfic / how women engage with fanfic overall?

that is a fair question. fujos and (het) self-inserters are an easy target because they’re the majority of fic writers, and since most of everything is bad, there is naturally going to be a lot of really really bad man-centric fic. it’s easy to complain about them because of that. I’m sure there is also a lot of really terribly written f/f content too, very little of which touches on anything I’m actually interested in reading about. do I believe it’s literally impossible to write anything of value if you’re using other people’s characters? no, that would be absurd. but I’ll quote myself from an older, deleted blog:

“I just find it weird how fanfic, generally speaking, has homogenized to the point that in nearly every single fandom for every single book, movie, show, every genre and every medium, all have basically the same stories with the same plots and tropes no matter where you look. if you check every fandom it will be heavily weighted toward m/m, slash, yaoi, whatever the term is nowadays… and for the most part, even if explicit fic is a minority within the fandom itself, the most popular fic will always be porn or long fic that includes porn.”

“…it seems to always, in my experience, utilize a terribly pedestrian narrative style. combine that with shared tropes and source materials and the majority of fanfic has you reading the same things over and over with little variation other than maybe a different perspective. I can count on one hand the number of fics that have impressed me with experimentation! the vast majority are just… blah. blah blah. these two characters have sex. these two characters pine for each other for a really long time and then have sex.”

those posts were written a few years ago, but they’re still true. and the reasons for that are fairly simple: fanfic is, by its very nature, derivative, and the barrier to entry (publishing) is extremely low, making it easy for children + less skilled writers to throw their hats in. in addition, there is a strong, decades-old taboo against “unsolicited concrit” which is expressed as “don’t like, don’t read.”

when you put all of these things together, what you get is a community that is A) very repetitive and B) very averse to challenging itself. that is not the recipe for genuine and raw artistic expression. it’s mass-produced unedited shit from people chasing the high of their favorite tropes. they are not interested in improving.

you have people who will admit to reading nothing but fanfic! and the people who read nothing but fanfic will go on to write more fanfic, at which point the cycle of degradation is unavoidable, because all they want is more of what fanfic offers: predictable, clearly labeled content made according to a formula that has been perfected for the broadest appeal + max kudos.

fanfic readers love tropes. they live for tropes. their “plotting” (lol), their dialogue, their characters and character dynamics are saturated with tropes. that’s why YA literature is starting to market itself on the basis of tropes - they sell! little soundbites. easy money. because fanfic readers are generally not interested in anything that might surprise them. they don’t like risk. that’s why they’re reading the same shit about the same characters over and over and over again. and these tropes, which are picked from and regurgitated into fic after fic after fic, become further and further removed from any genuine expression of human emotion. they become abstract. nonsensical. for the most part, fetish fodder. and if that is the only thing you’re reading……. It’s literally over🙁

because most fanfic is about sex or romance, and because most fanfic is written by women, and because most women are heterosexual, f/f content is considerably rarer than the alternatives. writing about women does marginally broaden the scope of what fanfic is interested in/capable of exploring, but it doesn’t solve the main, underlying problem of what fanfic is and how people (mostly women) engage with it.

are there some good lesbian fanfics out there? probably! but that isn’t the norm. is it the end of the world if you read fanfic? no! but also read real books and write something original please.

#ask

[call-sign-shark]

I’m listening to Ultraviolence by Lana Del Ray and I can’t shake the feeling of a fic with Arthur based off this song. I feel like it fits him so well! I can just imagine a toxic relationship between him and the reader where he hits her or harms her in some way (intentional or not) but she keeps going back to him

“He hit me and it felt like a kiss..”

Plssss lmao the way this works so well

No need to do anything with it, just wanted to share because I know you’re a slut for Arthur like I am

“Because I know you’re a slut for Arthur” SIS YOU’RE SO RIIIIIGHT. HE’S MY SOFT KITTEN. 😩

Ultraviolence || Dark!Arthur Shelby x Reader

TW: angst ++, abusive husband, toxic relationship, depiction of domestic violence, alcoholism, if you think this trope have a good ending you should not read it, no proof reading: this is raw, unedited and prolly super badly written??

Words: 1k

Each inch gained by the clock’s needle, your heart raced more as if it feared to be pierced by its the sharp steel. Nibbling on your fingers’ skin compulsively, you sat on the large luggage you prepared one hour ago because you knew that when Arthur came home after midnight, he was not the man you fell in love with anymore. His gruff voice, usually lavishing you with the sweetest pet names he could find, would call you deadly nightshade — because when you looked at him with fear and fury in your oh-so- beautiful but teary eyes, it felt like a caustic poison was running through his veins, burning him from within and dissolving his sanity.

The door opened, your soul wept.

“Oi Y/N, where the fook are ye?” The gravel in his tone, who used to make you shiver with desire, sent shivers of fright down your spine. You took a deep breath, struggling to keep composure: this night would be the last you suffered from his violent love. After months of hesitating, coming back to him almost crawling, you decided that this nightmare had to stop. Somehow, you knew you had to flee from his claws before you ended up dead and cold — either by suicide or by his hands.

He stumbled in the living room, an empty bottom of whisky hanging from his hand. His steel blue eyes, half closed due to the amount of alcool he drank and cocaine he snorted, were looking for you, “Bloody hell Y/N, a good wife always welcome her husband when he comes back home. So be a good fookin’ woman and come greet your ol’ Arthur with the warmth he fucking deserve.” He grunted, before his frightening gaze fell on you.

He looked at you, and you could hear the sirens howling in the back of your head.

“What the hell?” He whispered at the sight of your packed stuff, slowly understanding your intentions, “Are you fucking serious?”

“I can’t do this anymore Arthur,” words left your mouth, falling from your quivering lips, “This is going to kill me… I’m sorry.”

“You wanna leave me?” He asked, bewildered. The sound of the bottle shattering on the wooden floor echoed in the living room, answering to the screams of his own heart breaking. You hated yourself at the idea of hurting him but you could not do it anymore, loving him was really hard. At first your thought it would be enough to save him, to heal his soul and mind, but love was not enough— your love was never enough.

“I’m sorry.” You got up and grabbed your luggage, before making your way to the door. Yet, Arthur firmly grabbed your wrist as you passed by, his grip so sharp it bruised your skin almost instantly.

“You’re not going anywhere, love.”

“Let me go. Please Arthur, if you love me you have to let me go.”

“I said you’re not. Going. Any-fookin-where.” He retorted, his hoarse voice growling with more hatred as anger boiled within him.

“Let me go you fucking bastard!” You bursted out, panic overwhelming your aching soul as you felt his nails digging into your skin.

The horrific sound of the blow that followed made the skies shook with sorrow. Pain stung your cheek, its burning sensation spreading on all the left side of your face. You let out a woeful whimper, tears flowing from your eyes almost instantly. He hit you, and it felt like a kiss, because it was his way of loving you when he was drunk.

“YOU AIN’T LEAVING ME, YOU POISON. I’M ARTHUR FUCKING SHELBY RIGHT?” He barked.

His hand grabbed you a second time — but it was not to make you dance anymore, like he used to do when you were kids.

Pain rain down on you,

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence.

“I’m … Im so sorry…” Arthur kept saying over and over again, his hands on both side of his head as he pulled his own hair, devastated with the view of crimson stains on your face.

Panicking, he then grabbed your chin and almost suffocated you with his lips, assaulting your bleeding mouth with desperate kisses, “I’m so sorry Y/N, it won’t happen again. I just don’t know what crossed my mind, it wasn’t me… it was the fucking whisky! The bloody snow! I won’t do it again, I swear doll I will never hurt you anymore… I— I love you… God I love you so much I’ll die without you.”

His blue eyes overflowed with tears of gold, like lemonade.

“Arthur… I —“ Words choked in your throat as you saw him cry. The monster had left, leaving him sobbing like a beaten child. He raised your gaze toward yours when you called him, and you knew he was your gentle Arthur again.

But you could not forgive him again and again.

Could you?

He would be the death of you.

“Please, I’ll do anything for you. Please, Y/N.”

The cacophony of your mind almost made you wince, for your thoughts crashed against your skull in a messy bacchanalia. Run away, you had to run away… so why did your body remained petrified? Why did you gently stroke his hair, looking at him, desperately in love?

It was stronger than you, stronger than reason, you hated to see him cry. You despised the way he was hating himself, genuinely guilty.

But you had to go.

To go.

But you stayed.

Don’t beg, stop telling me you love me. Please.

Please I can’t. It’s never enough.

Give me all of that ultraviolence.

“I love you too, Arthur. I love you forever.” Your voice was merely a whisper as warm blood ran from your nostrils, tainting your lips and dying on your chin. Your fingers gently grazed his neck as you knew he loved — all you wanted was to stop his pain. To see him smile with that stupid, irresistible grin that made you fall for him.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” His lips laid a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, the tip of his tongue tasting the blood. His voice was filled with sincere love, “I’ll change. I swear to God I’ll change for you,” Somehow he really believed in what he said, but the truth was he would never change… And you knew it.

“You won’t lose me — maybe you could — help me putting my stuff back where they belong?” You stuttered, your whole body about to collapse in his arms for it just wanted to feel his touch.

“Of course I’ll do.”

Arthur smiled.

You did too.

But Angels cried,

for they knew that he hurt you and it felt like true love.

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me honey, know that you can make yourself at home in my ask box, especially when it’s about babyboy Arthur.

I love this Lana’s song so much, and I completely understand the vibes you felt. It would suit so well in a Dark!Arthur fic — in fact I loved it so much I could not help but write a little something for ya! Even though I do feel in-character Arthur would be far too terrified to hurt Reader and would not physically harm . Maybe being rougher, bruising her with his grip without doing it on purpose. But he would not hit her (cf: office scene with Linda in S5). Yet — I decided to go dark with this one because, as you said, “he hit me and it felt like a kiss” is just perfect for this sad trope.

#arthur shelby #arthur Shelby x reader #Peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinder x reader #Tommy Shelby #John Shelby #Michael gray #Alfie Solomon’s #Arthur Shelby angst #peaky blinder imagine #Peaky blinder angst #request