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laurabwrites · 1 year

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Plotting out loud, because I can. astolat/GoT fanfic edition.

So I’m going to do some plotting here, because if I can’t build a sequel plot to an AO3 fanfic on Tumblr, where else am I going to build it? My head? I’ll never finish it that way!

Right so, Winter’s Crown by Astolat, which is fanfiction of Game of Thrones. This thing consumed me for the 4 or 5 days it was being released. It’s a damn good thing Astolat posted two chapters a day because I was refreshing my email waiting for those chapter notifications two or three times an hour and then injecting several thousand words into my veins the second that notification hit.

Just as a programming note. I’ve read the first third of the first book in Game of Thrones. Most of my knowledge of the series has been absorbed by osmosis from my partner and general pop culture saturation. Moving on.

I loved Winter’s Crown.

I also took one look at the ending and said “well, they’re going to be in a civil war within the year.”

Again, to be clear, the ending was perfect for the story. I’m just also sure that if the story continued we’d be into a war for the Iron Throne, like the main series is actually about.

Here be spoilers for Winter’s Crown.

So, our set-up for the sequel is that Robb is still the King in the North, with all the magical power that crown from the Children of the Forest invested in him. He’s promised/engaged to Shireen, Stannis’s daughter and only heir. You know, the niece of Robert Baratheon, the King of the South/Seven Kingdom (except whoops Robb declared the North independent, so I guess it’s Six Kingdoms now?). Robb is also currently fucking Jamie Lannister. Jamie Lannister who was Robert’s Hand before uh... declaring? taking service? with Robb. (There was magic involved.) Who also probably didn’t actually explicitly break up with Cersei before following Robb out of the throne room on Robb’s orders after the declaration of independence.

ALSO, Stannis has already said to Robb that he intends to declare Robert an oathbreaker as the Protector of the Realm. Which from a strict reading of the situation, Robert WAS. Which Robb has already lain on Robert with the force of magic behind it. Here, I’ll quote: “I name you false kind and false friend, oathbreaker and coward, and may you end your days in the shame and misery your treachery deserves.” Which, as far as I can tell the only witnesses who aren’t Robb’s people are Robert, Cersei, the children, Margaery Tyrell, and a small handful of goldcloaks/Kingsguards. So, I doubt that bit of information is getting publicized by anyone in that room. Which Stannis was not.

Basically, I see war coming from two fronts. One, Stannis declaring Robert an Oathbreaker, which is politically tricky because either Stannis has taken himself out of Robb’s service and is making a play to be the king himself? OR he’s calling Robert an Oathbreaker as one of Robb’s sworn liege lords. Which, yikes. Plays right into the narrative that Cersei has built up for herself: that Robb wants power and will march on the South with the Wildlings and/or Stannis’s men at arms and/or the Lannister men (answering to Jamie).

I think if Cersei left the North alone after the Long Night and Stannis was very clear he was not one of Robb’s lords, Robb and the North would be happy to sit out a war and just work on recovering from the Long Night. Because, again, yikes, about half the population that survived the initial rise of the dead froze to death. The North is not in any shape to be going to war.

But I don’t think Cersei can put herself in someone else’s (Robb’s) shoes and believe they won’t act like a politically duplicitous cunt after power and only power. So she’s going to want to go to war to strike first and protect her own power. And also to pay back the “betrayal” of her brother/lover (Jamie) abandoning her. Also Stannis’s betrayal of swearing to the King in the North. But I think she’ll care about Jamie’s more.

And I think Robert isn’t strong enough, morally, emotionally, etc. to stop her.

So... I tend to think that Stannis at least wouldn’t kick off a war until he could secure his supply lines. Supply lines which after the Long Night freezing a significant portion of the country would be in terrible shape. Especially since the largest supply of excess grain is the Tyrell’s and Cersei has that on her side since Margaery Tyrell is married to Joffrey.

End result is that I think Cersei will kick off the war and Stannis will lay the charge of Oathbreaking as a response. To you know, weaken/divide her forces as much as he can.

What Cersei may not have is a competent General. Robb, Jamie, Stannis, and Tyrion are on the side of the North (whether or not Jamie and Tyrion can stomach fighting their sister and niblings/children, those two at least aren’t on Cersei’s side). Tywin is MIA from Winter’s Crown except as a brief aside in the past tense and may or may not be dead in this iteration of the world. The best General we can reasonably project to be on Cersei’s side is her Uncle Kevan. Who did see the dead with his own eyes, so that might change his thinking on if the charges of Oathbreaking are true and who that means he should fight for.

Meanwhile, Robb/the North has six direwolves, at least 3 giants, Brienne of fucking Tarth, Jon Snow, Jamie Lancaster, Tyrion Lancaster, AND, most importantly, every single hero and every foot soldier of the Long Night who survived who’s willing to be called to arms again (they’d probably all like to just go home and recover, but damn, if their king is calling, these are the people proven to show up when called). A significant portion of that army are Wildlings who are now released from their oaths and will most likely head back home over the Wall. But! There will also likely be a significant number who stay (*cough* Tormaund making eyes at Brienne) and can function well as a scouting force.

So the North has an army that trained and trauma bonded through the Long Night together. Morale/belief in each other and their leaders is going to be high. The Boltons are all dead due to events in Winter’s Crown and the Freys are possibly all to mostly dead, so Robb is not going to be stabbed in the back by traitorous liege lords this go around (no Red Wedding here!). What the North doesn’t have is food.

So, what they need is to get the intelligence of Cersei attacking quickly and to haul ass South where they can pillage food.

As a side note, I am assuming that Danerys does NOT show up with dragons at any point to turn this into a three-way fight. She is not mentioned at all in Winter’s Crown, not even the aside Twyin got, so I’m working off the assumption she’s dead or busy on her side of the sea and will not be appearing in a relevant time frame to this completely hypothetical sequel fanfiction of fanfiction.

So, questions I would need to answer, for myself, before writing: 1) What does Varys choose to do? In GoT, he is canonically more loyal to the realm and thus the people living in it than whoever is on the throne. We know he’s still the Master of Whispers in the Winter’s Crown iteration of the world and was able to slip a number of spies/potential assassins into Robb’s camp. Assassins who were routinely thwarted by Brienne and Tyrion, but all it takes is once. And people might be more willing without the magical terror of the oncoming Long Night/Night’s King. Robb still has the magic invested in crown however, so maybe not. Essentially, I think Varys would be a strong asset for Cersei if she utilizes him (she didn’t earlier because he was telling her information that didn’t fit her world view). And therefore what he choses to do would be important. Tyrion at least knows Varys is the spymaster and to work to counter him.

2) Is Joffrey enough of a cruel bastard to still get offed?

3) Does the accurate parentage of the royal children come out?

Well, this is a lot of thinking about the state of the board at the beginning and not much thinking about ‘plot’ isn’t it? Maybe thinking about a theme would help me out here.

The theme(s) in Winter’s Crown is(are) oaths, the costs of them, being a ‘worthy’ person, and when to adhere to an oath. So I would want this hypothetical sequel’s theme(s) to flow naturally from that. Meaning... the consequences of adhering to your oaths when your opponent doesn’t. Good job brain, the theme is the Prisoner’s Dilemma and what shame and misery is the natural consequence of treachery.

Okay, cool, now I have the overall arc of my plot: a sudden swift victory on Cersei’s side (she seizes the first mover advantage) followed by the slow build to victory of Robb’s side. I picture this slow build to be Robb focusing on the smaller battles and alliances that builds a solid alliance to suddenly at the end sweep Cersei off the board. I’d focus on getting smaller lords on their side and peeling away minor but consequential logistical goods from Cersei’s side (armies march on good boots kind of thing) while Robb keeps his army out of direct confrontation with Cersei’s, nibbling away at their numbers in hit-and-run tactics, or swaying the men to withdraw their oaths to their lords and take up service with Robb, or just picking the terrain a battle happens in very carefully.

Too bad I don’t trust my writing chops to write a drawn out war story complete with military campaigns yet... Ah well, into the ideas pile it goes.

#writing #writeblr #amwriting #plotting #WIP #fantasy #really good fanfiction #plotting out loud #world building #I'll read more or less anything astolat publishes

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melodicwriter · 2 months

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When you read a fic so good that you’re beside yourself and don’t even know how to function

#fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #I actually don’t read fic that often #I spend my time writing it #so when I find something really good I’m like shaken to my core bc I’m alr not used to reading fic #but god… I need to do this more #the fic was so good it legit inspired me

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 6 months

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Halloween prompts year 2 day 27

Danny watched on as Nightwing- his literal soulmate- did an amazing backflip off of a roof, spinning several times in the air before landing gracefully on the top of another building. Nightwing was so graceful and in control of himself and his movements. Danny found himself wondering how Nightwing would move as a ghost.

Heck, how would he look as a ghost? Would he have white hair like Phantom or blue hair like Ember? Maybe green hair like Kitty and Youngblood, but Ghostwriters hair was still black as a ghost so maybe he'd be like that?

Shaking his head he moved to get up from where he had been leaning up against an old chimney, Nightwing having long since left. How should he go about this anyway? He can't just go up to a famous vigilante and be like, "Hi I'm your soulmate. Wanna go out with a complete stranger who has no way of proving anything that they're saying?"

And there was the real issue. If Nightwing asked how he had seen his soulmark Danny could just tell the truth: he had seen it in that nasty fight last week where hoards of ninjas had attacked them and tore up Nightwings suit enough to see it from his vantage point.

But if he asked about Dannys soul mark...well that was harder to explain.

His own soulmark used to be on his torso before he died but after he stepped out of the portal it was gone. As in there wasn't a trace of it anywhere. It was one of the reasons he never went anywhere without a shirt anymore because he knew someone would eventually notice its absence.

He could probably explain it as Phantom to make it more believable but he would have to get Nightwing to know Phantom more for him to trust him.

Which lead back to "how do I introduce myself to him without earning an electrified stick to the face?"

After a phone call with Jazz, where she basically gave him the long winded version of "Just be yourself! You were made for eachother after all." He decided that yeah! He can use his ghostly instincts to guide him! Whats the worst that could happen?

Cue Nightwing and the other bats in the batcave a week later, crowded around a table covered in pictures of captured villians and thugs. All of them were the same. All of them showed a subject laying on thier bellys hog tied, and in a cage with the words "horny jail" etched into it.

The only real connection that all of these lowlifes had was them making crude threats, creepy unsolicited advances, catcalling or otherwise being a creep towards Nightwing.

Conclusion: Nighting either has a fanboy following him around getting in over his head or he has a violent stalker staking a claim

Robin disagreed with his siblings. Clearly whoever is doing this is defending Graysons honor and Damian approves.

Danny thinks he's doing a good job in the "showing soulmate that you are capable of protecting him from weirdos" maybe he should get Nightwing an Anti-Creep Stick of his own...

#halloween prompts #prompts #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #nightwing #death defying #dick grayson #fanfiction prompts #danny: im doing a good job of showing him i can protect him from creeps :D #most of the batfam: Is this a supervillian with a crush???#danny once again labeled as a supervillian #and he keeps making it look worse and worse and only damian can see it for what it really is but no one believes him #dick: *finds anti creep stick that was left for him with a big bow on it“ oh no its progressed to gifts now #danny doesnt care if the relationship is platonic or romantic #he just wants Nightwing to like him and not be afraid of him

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martuzzio · 2 months

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Let's play the "is it Etho or Kakashi" game

#Hermitcraft #my art #ethoslab #Rereading Naruto fanfiction for the seven millionth time really isn't helping my Etho/Kakashi blending problem #Good thing they're both soooo lame <3

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mossy-box · 2 months

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Drew some stuff from @remedyturtles ‘s fic, Firefight.

I definitely recommend giving it a read <3

#IGNORE HOW MY STYLE CHANGES SHHHHSHSHSHSH IT DIDNT!#firefight #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt fanfiction #fanfiction #I forgot if you had a tag so sorry if I missed it #anyways I loved the angst it was really good #I started losing motivation on the comic #I was gonna do two pages but then stopped 🥺🥺#my art #mossy’s art #my stuff #disaster twins #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #I’m gonna read it again and no one will stop me.#firefight au

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lineffability · 9 months

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"Crowley."

Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.

"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."

"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.

"I need your help" Aziraphale said.

"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.

The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.

"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."

"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.

Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.

"Why are you here?"

Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)

"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"

"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."

There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."

"No."

"This is important." (This isn't about us.)

"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)

"You do! You always have."

"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."

"That's not what I meant."

With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)

Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."

The words dropped like a lead balloon.

There was utter silence between them.

Why were they so close?

Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.

But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.

He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.

This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.

This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.

"I'm sorry. I need to go."

"Of course you do."

"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."

And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?

With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.

Crowley was alone.

His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.

And failed considerably.

I love you.

(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)

[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #crowley x aziraphale #in which crowley and aziraphale meet for the first time after the Divorce #oh god ok i really love this???#i wrote it in one go and am posting unedited but #i need this ?!?!?#im also going through the whole 'i wanna know how this continues' vs 'you're the one writing it' idiocy #oh you wanna know how it ends?? then write it??? fool #but i dont know...how it continues....yet.#i do have ideas though...#inefficable #my writing

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dapper-lil-arts · 2 months

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Darlings. is it gay when the phantom you created as a manifestation of your dreadfull loneliness takes the form of one of your closest friends.

Fanart of this pretty good horror rarijack fanfic, "The haunting of carroussel boutique" personaly i am surprised the writer didnt take the chance to point out how fucking funny this is. Me n kim started laughing about it during stream and i just had to draw this

#i REALLY didn't mean to make this look like theyre fucking #it just happened i apologize #either way the fanfic is pretty good!#but i couldn't help but realise the writer stook to the horror genre like glue #and didn't think to point out how objectively funny that like.#Rarity is sleeping with a copy of applejack #incredibly akward #incredibly funny #also shoutout to when ghosts are born from a wish #fuckin LOVE that. much better than “some guy died here”#Rarity haunted herself because of her awfull loneliness #lucky for her the real thing has come to the rescue #applejack #rarity #rarijack #mlp #my little pony #suggestive #I GUESS!!!#fanfiction #pony posting #The Haunting of Carousel Boutique #friendship is magic #personaly i coulda done with more romance and smidge bit more of comedy #but the fic is still very VERY well put together #one genre fics are unrelatable to me but i respect the hell outta it

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raggedy-spaceman · 9 months

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"I don’t know this man!" David Tennant and Michael Sheen on Good Omens 2, jetpacks and Jon Hamm nude

Michael Christopher Sheen you are a menace to society!

#good omens #good omens 2 #michael sheen #david tennant #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ali plumb #good omens season 2 #good omens interview #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale #crowley #MICHAEL OH MY GOD #I HATE YOU #(affectionate)#(adoringly)#I bet he really did write fanfiction #since he read the book the first time #mine

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adelfie · 1 year

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Comic-style art I made inspired by 'A Meditation On Railroading' by @eggmacguffin - from when Jason finds Tim on the train 💖

#my art #red hood #jason todd #robin #tim drake #batfam fic #a really good fic!!! 🥺💖💖💖#the author writes the emotional turmoil so well #and there's a happy ending!#enemy to caretaker #batman fanfiction #batfamily #digital art #practice #dc fanart

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foolishlovers · 5 months

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WIP Wednesday Good Omens Recs

let's spread some love and share some wips this wednesday. writing can be hard and lonely sometimes, so let's hit the kudos button and post a comment or two on some ongoing fics today!

#gonna reblog with some of my recs in a sec #feel free to add yours!!#i know wips aren't everyone's thing and that's okay!! but if u do feel up for reading them in general #then i really wanna encourage u to talk about them!! nothing better than encouragement and love on your own ongoing projects!!#good omens #good omens fic rec #good omens fanfiction #good omens fics #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziracrow #go fanfic #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #foolish recs

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sugar-coat-it · 27 days

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Touch Tank

He’s so pretty when he goes down on me… <3

THE MAKEUP FIC LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND EVERYONE IN BETWEEN

Fluff into smut because I am a sappy bitch. It’s actually quite soft despite being dirty.

Fem! Reader

Contains: Sub! Matty, him being a sweetie pie and guiding her into it, facesitting/riding, makeup ruining, praise kink (good boy, pretty boy, etc.), Matty cumming in his pants, hair pulling, Matty Healy worshiping that cunt idk what else to tell you

WC: ~4,600

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Matty asks you to do his makeup for him… and then ruin it by sitting on his face

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You glance at Matty through the reflection in the mirror, your heart swelling in your chest at the adoring look plastered on his face. He looks so incredibly gentle, his eyes soft and practically sparkling as he watches you apply concealer onto your skin. Only a few minutes ago, he’d plopped himself down on the lidded toilet near you and insisted that you show him how you do your makeup while you get ready for your girl’s night out. His longing gazes have proven to be very distracting as your working hands almost slow to a stop.

“Just pretend I’m not here! What comes next?” he urges, leaning his chin against his hand casually.

“Alright, alright! Next is the powder,” you explain, starting to refocus as you run the brush through the pan of skin-toned pigment.

Matty’s eyes can’t seem to stay focused on one thing, flicking between the product you’re using (taking note of the brand you use), your pretty face, and the way your steady fingers curl around the makeup brush. He murmurs the word “powder” to himself like he’s trying to commit the steps you take in your routine to his memory. Boyfriend training, if you will.

“Right… so, do you really need the primer, the concealer, and the other thing? Why haven’t they just combined them all? It’s an awful lot of work for you makeup users,” he muses, talking as if he knows what any of them are really for.

“I have no clue, babe. You should really get on that,” you chuckle, stealing another glance at him through the mirror.

“Yeah, I should, shouldn’t I? What’s that one for, then?” he asks, reaching out and pointing at the powder in your hands.

“This? It’s to set everything in place that we just put on,” you explain, finding it quite sweet that he’s so curious about this little piece of your life, as mundane as it might be.

Matty hums and nods thoughtfully, seeming satisfied with knowing more about makeup than he did before. Not just any makeup, but his girl’s makeup that she takes so much time to get right. There’s something very domestic about this moment, everything feels a little softer when it’s just you two like this. Even the moonlight seems to seep through the window gentler. Matty’s life is irregular, there’s no denying that. It’s what makes these moments of calm feel so sacred, so untouchable.

You continue carrying out your routine, going a little slower than usual to prolong it all, your brush strokes lingering a little longer than necessary as you brush a tastefully shimmery shade on your eyelids. Your boyfriend is unusually quiet as he admires you with those sleepy eyes. It’s not often that he isn’t either speaking or waiting for someone to finish talking so he can get a word in. The silence feels comfortable for both of you, it settles over the bathroom like a blanket.

“Ah, wait, I know that one,” he interrupts, suddenly sitting up straighter as you take out your next product, snapping his fingers and pointing at it, “that’s mascara.”

Matty looks absolutely triumphant, crossing his arms over his chest with a slyness plastered on his face. You let out a breathy little chuckle, only managing half of an eye roll before a warm smile tugs at your lips.

Once you’ve finished, Matty clears his throat to get your attention, looking as though he’s mulling over asking you something.

“Hey, I know you said you liked those pictures you saw of my stage makeup. I haven’t really done it in a while… y’know, if you wanted to do some on me… before you go to your party,” he offers softly, trailing off as he looks up into your eyes.

“Wait, are you serious!?” you exclaim, your eyes lighting up with a grin on your face that could rival a kid’s smile on Christmas morning.

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs, chuckling as you already scramble to grab all your supplies, sliding them towards the closer end of the counter, “I’m going to trust you here, but you’ve got the perfect chance to fuck me up good, making me look like a proper circus clown.”

“I would never!” you gasp, feigning offense at his comment with a dramatic hand over your heart, “why on earth would I do that when I have the opportunity to make you the prettiest of princesses?”

“The what? Nah, never mind that, you’ve just lost the privilege.”

“No, no, no I’m sorry, I’ll behave!”

Matty eyes you suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at you like he’s assessing whether or not you’ll be calling him “baby girl” or something next. Out of the goodness of his heart (and because he does really does want you to do this), he nods at you, crossing his arms over his chest. You just smile giddily, leaning down to kiss his forehead while he mumbles “Yeah, yeah, c’mon do me up”.

You’ve decided to go easy on him and not do a full face, just his eyes and lips. With that, you crack open your makeup pallet reserved only for fun occasions, it’s filled with shimmery, bright colors that immediately attract Matty’s distractable eyes. You hold it up to him for him to get a better look, his brows furrowing as he no doubt contemplates what he thinks would look the coolest.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, still very excited that he’d not only agreed to let you do this but was the one to suggest it.

“Maybe this blueish one? I dunno, is that what any basic straight guy would pick?”

“You’re overthinking it. I think it would look really nice on you.”

You dip your eyeshadow brush in the pan, instructing him to close his eyes for you and stay still the best he can (not the easiest of feats for one Mr. Healy). He does, his gaze softening before he lets his eyes flutter shut. With your free hand, you reach out and gently tilt his face to be angled properly. You feel a little warmth blossom in your chest as you realize how intimate this feels, especially with how serene he looks as he closes his eyes. Even though it feels silly because it’s just doing his makeup, your heart still thrums a little faster at the little display of trust.

When you touch the brush to his eyelid, he lets out a short, very Matty-sounding giggle as he tells you that it feels “quite nice”. You chuckle along with him, switching to the other eyelid once you’re sure the other one is evenly applied. Your touch is delicate as you hold the side of Matty’s face, your eyes squinting with concentration as you work. He’s warm under your fingertips. You notice how soothed he seems by you handling him like this, almost hypnotized by the brush strokes. He looks so soft. Unjaded. Untouched.

While his eyes are closed, you reach for your eyeliner, warning him before you touch the point of it to his lash line. Still, he flinches slightly when the liner touches his eyelid, his nose scrunching up a bit as you do your best to trace a steady line, despite the way his eyelids flutter.

“You’re moving, Matty.”

“M’not!” he insists (he is).

With a bit of fixing, you’d managed to draw out two almost even wings. At your permission, his eyes blink open again and the sight almost steals your breath away. The blue is bringing out the honey tones of his irises, his sleepy eyes defined by the complimentary liner. He’s beautiful.

“Do I look hot?” he asks, blinking faux seductively.

“Very hot,” you grin, inspecting your work as you keep a tender hold on his chin.

It’s not even a joke, he does look hot. You’ve always not so secretly adored his more feminine side, getting absolutely giddy whenever he wore a skirt around the flat or painted his nails. You rub your thumb over his cheek affectionately before reaching back over to the counter for your mascara wand, holding it up to him before you unscrew the cap. It’s the only one he’d recognized from earlier, so of course you’re going to tease him a little.

“Time for your favorite,” you joke, moving to position yourself in front of him.

Matty glances at the wand for a second before nodding slowly, smiling with his tongue between his teeth boyishly.

“Mascara,” he recalls smugly.

It quickly becomes his least favorite when he painstakingly can only blink when you tell him to, this wand object being far too close to his eyeballs for his liking. He groans dramatically between the blink breaks that you give him, pulling all sorts of odd, exaggerated faces.

“That was god awful, hated that,” he broods, shaking his head at you.

You make up for it with an apologetic kiss to his cheek, then wipe away the pink trace of your lipstick on his skin. You reassure him that you’re almost done, now retrieving the same shade of lipstick that you’d done on yourself. You slowly ease his lips apart with the hand on his jaw, Matty being totally pliant while he gazes at you quietly. You start to apply the color to his lips, swallowing thickly as you try not to get distracted by his mouth. Despite your best efforts, your face feels a little hot as quiet tension blooms. His pupils have practically doubled in size at this point from how enamored he is with you in this moment. The tension only grows stronger when you finish, standing behind him as you lead him to the mirror.

“Oh, shit. I look… I look really good,” Matty gawks, his lips parting as he eyes himself in the mirror.

“You do. I’d go as far as to say that you look fucking stunning,” you whisper near the shell of his ear, feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

The two of you stay like that for a bit longer, both admiring him in the reflection of the mirror, your hands settled on his shoulders and your lips brushing against his ear. With a smile, you place a tender kiss on his neck before leaving him to gaze at himself some more while you finish getting ready in the bedroom.

It’s not long before Matty is trailing after you, finding you slipping your “style over comfort” heels on as he frowns at you from the doorway. The fact that you’re not still fawning over him while he looks this good is pure absurdity in his mind.

“You’re really just gonna leave me here while I’m all dolled up for you? Shame,” he pouts, tilting his head at you as he juts out his bottom lip. Such a drama queen.

Matty comes closer and sinks to his knees in front of you at the foot of the bed, his calloused fingertips running up the expanse of your smooth legs. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as he reaches for the ankle straps of your shoes that you’d just put on, leaning his cheek against your knee as he starts to unclasp one of them with nimble fingers. You don’t stop him. He knows for a fact that he’s putting you in a position where you couldn’t possibly say no to him, not when he’s looking at you like that, his naturally gorgeous features only further accentuated by the makeup you’d done. Maybe being fashionably late isn’t such a big deal… Sarah hosts girl's nights all the time. Besides, Matty seems to have other plans for convincing you that the party is hardly a priority. You swear if you squint, you can see a plan racing to come together in his head as you gaze down at him, drinking him in while he’s on his knees.

“We don’t really have the time…” you murmur, reaching with one hand to card your fingers through his hair, holding it away from his eyes while he undoes your shoes.

Sex with Matty is never a casual affair. He takes his sweet time with you, he takes you apart with his mouth and his fingers before he even thinks of being inside of you. He doesn’t just please, he satisfies. Matty’s devoted appetite cannot be given a time constraint.

Once he’s finished sliding both of your shoes off, carefully setting them to the side, he clambers up onto the bed and lays down behind you. His head is tilted in your direction as he reaches his hands out to you in a grabbing motion, urging you to come closer.

“You could sit on my face,” he suggests, not a trace of hesitation in his blunt tone.

“What?” you gape, your eyebrows knitting together.

“You heard me,” he quips, swallowing thickly before speaking again, “Stay. Use me.”

You shake your head in disbelief, letting out a chuckle at his wanton request. Forcing yourself to swiftly regain your composure, you turn and slink towards him so you’re sitting on your knees at his side. It would probably be faster than sex… right?

“Where is this even coming from? Is that something you think about a lot, babe?” you smile teasingly, reaching over to cup his face, scratching your nails under his jaw.

Matty’s gaze shifts to the side and he shrugs, a coyness playing on his face as his cheeks become rosier. No one gets to see him like this but you, this is your Matty. You sigh, your eyes flickering down to his painted lips that curl up with a mischievous quirk.

“You’d hardly be able to breathe, Matty- no, stop, don’t look at me like that, I’m serious! These things don’t always work out like they do in your pornos,” you laugh, but you are genuinely concerned about hurting him.

“The fuck do I care? If I can breathe, I’m not doin’ it right,” he huffs petulantly, his greedy hands reaching for your hips to guide you into straddling him, “Literally crush me, I can take it, I’m a big boy.”

You shoot him a look and he just offers a wide, toothy grin, reaching behind you to grab handfuls of your ass through your dress that's riding up your thighs higher with every little movement. It suddenly feels a lot shorter when it’s barely covering your panties.

“I dunno about a big one, but you definitely are a boy sometimes, Healy,” you tease, leaning over him with your hands splayed on his chest for support.

“You love it. Are you gonna sit that sexy ass down on me or what?” he smirks, only proving your point further as he waggles his eyebrows at you.

You can tell he’s not going to let this go, not till your thighs are locked around his head. Just as you’re about to open your mouth again, he’s easing the fabric of your dress further up your legs, letting out a satisfied hum as it bunches around your waist. He avidly smooths his hands over the newly exposed skin, need seeping through his touch. Matty’s voice is breathier when he speaks again, his fingertips digging into your hips.

“Please, darlin’, want you to ruin the pretty makeup you did for me so nicely,” he whispers.

Instantly, heat surges under your skin, your breath catching in your throat at the way he spins his sugary words. That’s something you hadn’t considered. The image that flashes through your mind of Matty between your legs with his makeup smudged down his flushed cheeks makes a pang of want rip through you. Suddenly, it looks like your girlfriends will be taking the first round of shots without you.

“...Okay,” you relent, chewing at your bottom lip.

“Yeesss, that’s what I thought,” he celebrates, drumming his fingertips against your hips excitedly, “C’mere.”

The actual process of sitting down on his face seems fairly daunting to you, your limbs feel more awkward than usual, and heat is prickling at your cheeks at the idea of actually straddling his head. It’s an awfully compromising pose to be in. Matty notices how stonewalled you seem, his thumbs rubbing encouraging circles into the bones of your hips.

“It’s okay, I’m serious, I want you to. Here, let me just…” he trails off, urging you to lift your hips by easing them upwards, letting you do most of the movement.

“So gentle,” you tease, noticing how light his touch is, like you’re his most delicate possession.

“I am when I want to be.”

Matty guides you till you’re kneeling above his head, peering down at his warm, sparkly eyes. He looks even prettier from this angle, his sea of dark curls is spread around his head like a halo. The little smile plastered on his face says “See? Not so bad.”. And it’s not, not when he’s holding both of your hands, his thumbs running over your knuckles carefully. He gives one of your hands a squeeze before letting go, placing two tender fingers at the waistband of your panties. He slides them down the front of the lacy fabric till they meet the dampness that’s gathered between your thighs, only setting your skin more ablaze. Matty hums approvingly, the noise rumbling low in his chest as he hooks his fingers under the material, sliding them to the side.

“Oh, fuck me. Perfect fucking cunt,” he groans, spreading your honeyed folds and marveling at the way your arousal gathers on his digits.

You laugh lightly at how he acts as if he’s seeing you like this for the first time and he just smiles, enamored. Matty catches his lower lip between his teeth as he runs his hands over to your thighs, holding them as he nods to signal that he’s ready for you.

“Yeah?” you breathe, feeling your heart hammer against your ribs.

“Yeah.”

Matty blinks up at you eagerly, vying for your complete attention with every flutter of his mascara-coated lashes. His eyes are wide and twinkly, only shining brighter when you start to slowly lower your hips down. His needy gaze is wildly flicking back and forth between your face and your core, slicked and glistening with your arousal. There’s a slight burn simmering in your legs at just how teasingly slowly you’re sinking downward, much to Matty’s vexation. He tugs slightly at the soft skin of your thighs, a little whine escaping the back of his throat as he anticipates the lack of oxygen to come. Matty presses his lips to any skin he can reach on your thighs, hurriedly peppering pink lipstick marks till you’re totally littered with them. He smushes his cheek to your inner thigh, his muss of dark curls tickling at your skin as he pleads with you. He looks so fucked out and you haven’t even started.

“Please, please- please, baby,” he murmurs, his tongue darting out to run over his pink, plush lips between kisses to your skin.

You smile down at him warmly, feeling your heart almost burst at just how badly he’s craving this, how long he’s likely fantasized about you using him for your pleasure this way. He’s behaving oh-so politely for a man so normally fond of brashness.

“I-I need it… please, just fucking use me,” Matty whimpers, his voice breaking slightly, his tone shooting straight to your cunt.

Finally, you indulge him, inching down the rest of the way until you’re perched on his face, your knees on either side of his head. You gasp as he doesn’t waste a single moment before his tongue is working against you with practiced swirls and figures. He’s giving you no time to even think twice about being embarrassed by the lewdness of your positioning. Your hands go flying to support yourself against the headboard, feeling like your breath has been ripped straight from your lungs as Matty laps at your sopping cunt. His shimmery, blue eyelids flutter shut as he groans against you, his hands snaking up the backs of your thighs to your ass, holding you down against his mouth firmly as he devours you. Your whole body shudders as he drags his tongue to your clit, flicking the tip of it against the bud; liquid, carnal need filling you right to your bones.

“Fuck! That’s my fucking boy, so good for me,” you sigh out, tossing your head back as you start to reflexively grind down on his tongue “You enjoying yourself, hun?”

Matty lets out syrupy moans that vibrate against your core, only adding to the dizzying, deep-seated pleasure pulsating and reverberating inside you as he nods his head. His lashes flutter, his eyes rolling back until only the whites are visible as you start to find your rhythm, rocking your hips into his mouth to chase the climax just beyond your fingertips. You let out a shuddering moan as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard to tighten the coiling heat in your belly, he knows all the little tricks to make your head spin. He hasn’t spent all this time learning your body for nothing, sometimes you think he might know it better than you do, effortlessly puppeteering you into the throws of pleasure.

Matty’s cock throbs and twitches in his trousers as the plushness of your thighs start to constrict around his head, smiling into your cunt as he truly does enjoy himself, evident in the way his hips are squirming against the mattress. The blissed-out look on your face only fuels his determination that much more, you’ve lit that familiar, insatiable fire in him. You glance over your shoulder and catch the way his thighs flex as his hips jolt upward into nothing, his dick aching and straining against his pants. You always knew Matty got off on you feeling good, but watching him pathetically hump the air while he eats you out is really getting to your head, you feel a little dizzy with a rush of power. Any sense of worry about putting more of your weight onto him is totally dissolved, overshadowed by the sensations rendering your mind fuzzy. You’re weightless.

“Tastes so sweet, so fucking good,” he rambles, his voice muffled and wavering, barely audible from under you.

The urge to own, to ruin flares up in you like a struck match. One of your hands strays from the headboard, reaching to grasp a handful of his meticulously cared-for curls (he pokes fun at the amount of makeup you have, yet his curl-care product collection is extensive). Matty whines, his eyebrows sloping, eyes squeezing shut as he feels your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling on it firmly at the root just the way he likes it. He pulls your hips down onto his face harder, like he’s trying to drown in between your legs.

“Oh my god… good boy, Matty,” you croon, panting as the tension compounds with every swipe of his tongue.

Matty’s hips buck particularly harshly at your praise. He’s quivering at the slight friction from the tight fabric of his pants, but he won’t allow himself to indulge in more than that, he’s far too preoccupied with satisfying you. You smile hazily at how instantly he reacts to the pet name, curious to know how far you can take this while he’s so pussy drunk.

“So fucking pretty for me like this,” you compliment breathlessly, watching as the half of his face that’s visible to you contorts with neediness.

He looks like he could burst like a horny balloon, poor thing. The bed is creaking from the way his hips writhe, rose tattoo lifting up to meet the air. He’s eating you out urgently, his brows drawn together tightly as his tongue fucks in and out of you deeper than you’ve ever felt, the tip of his nose nudging at your swollen clit. You tug at his dark tresses again as the feeling makes your whole body tense, your back arching as it all builds to a fizzling high. Matty doesn’t seem to mind one bit as you start to grind more frantically, your head lolling back with a wail.

“Close, I’m close,” you pant, your chest heaving with shuddering breaths.

“Please, please, oh, god, cum on my face,” Matty whimpers as he pauses for just a moment, turning his face to breathe before delving back in, fluttering the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit.

His begging is what ultimately makes your orgasm crash over you, the tension snapping as you ride the white-hot waves of your orgasm out on his mouth, euphoria rushing through your veins, throbbing at your core. You can’t fully understand him, but what you can make out are garbled moans of your name and babbles of “I love you” as he watches you arch backward, his tongue unrelenting. You let out a cry as the stimulation gets to be too much, your thighs trembling as the sensations crowd you. You have to physically get up off of his face before he stops, gasping for his breath as you settle back down on his hips.

It’s only now that you get to truly see him and god, he’s a beautiful fucking wreck. Your vision is slightly hazy as you peer down at him, the afterglow pleasantly clouding your head as you simply admire him. His eyeliner and mascara have slightly run down his cheeks from the heat, blue eyeshadow smudged and shimmering under his eyes. What’s left of his lipstick is spread around his grinning mouth, glistening with your arousal. Unruly, stray curls stick to his forehead with sweat that glows in an angelic sheen over him. You’ve ruined him, and he couldn’t be happier.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” you breathe, draping yourself over him to kiss his needy mouth.

Matty lets out a dazed giggle against your lips, humming contently as you taste yourself lingering on him. When you shift forward, you feel a distinct lack of the hard-on that was against his thigh when you started. Curiously, you pull away from the kiss to find that the protrusion in his trousers is missing, and in its absence, a sizeable wet spot soaked into the fabric. Pride simmers deep inside you as it quickly clicks into place.

“Matty… did you cum?” you ask, as if it’s not obvious.

He squirms, biting the inside of his cheek as he glances off to the side like the wall has suddenly become extremely interesting. Your smile is almost wolfish as you lean over him, grasping his jaw with one hand to turn his face towards you. His eyes rimmed with runny makeup get wider.

“I-I…” he stammers, his voice cracking and trailing off into a little gasp.

“Felt so good that you came without me even touching you?”

Matty nods slowly, tilting his chin down to drag his pink-bitten lips against your hand, his breath warm against your skin.

“Say thank you,” you whisper, purposefully pressing your thigh (still covered in his lipstick marks) against his softening cock, just to get another pretty, breathy sound out of him as his eyes roll back.

“F-fuck. Thank you. Thank you, baby,” he mumbles, staring up at you like you’re some kind of deity while he kisses the palm of your hand, “don’t go yet, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet boy.”

You capture his lips again and he smiles into the kiss, his hands tentatively knotting into your hair and ruffling it. He rolls the two of you over to embrace as you exchange murmurs of sweet nothings. You’re frankly disgustingly in love, and neither of you would have it any other way.

————————————————————————

This one has been in the works for a whiiiile

I’m dedicating this to Ace @ughgoaway , the biggest makeup fic supporter and one of my dear friends <3

#matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #I REALLY HOPE THIS WAS GOOD OH GODDD

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