#so like. either way you turn it. even in the most self insert reading you'd STILL logically use they/them so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ git gud | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shinakazami1 · 9 months

Text

Nobody is gonna read this prob but I today wrote some The Beginner's Guide snippets to kinda try to see if I like this style for a fanfic I plan

Short one here, more under the cut:

In a way, he knew what he was doing. Deep down, not even he could hide that his intentions were not just a pure concern and worry. But, just like the Coda he made in his mind, he himself had nobody to look for help for.

Maybe that's why, in the room full of people he knew and kept saying he loved and cared for, he couldn't bring himself to say a single word. Because the moment the eyes looked at him again, he knew he had to keep the act going.

'But there is no act. It's just me.'

It's just me and my depressed friend's games.

And I'll get him out.

Because nobody else will do that for him.

---

Davey stared at the wall and listened to the clock ticking. It seemed the mechanism was not a typical one - there seemed to be a small delay, making the rhytm uneven. Pam, pampam, pam... it did match his breathing pattern. In, hold for a second, out and quickly in again. Or maybe, he matched the mechanism.

It was hard to tell what inspired what at this point. Everything blended into one shape, no matter what creator of either intended.

Everything had a purpose in a way that maybe nobody even desired.

But that would be sad, wouldn't it be? For your work to grow up from the idea into a grotesque fleshened out monster of what it was supposed to be?

Was it what it was to be a creator? A loving embrace of a child you'd never be able to look at, that will never grow up to an image of itself that it was never supposed to really reach.

He didn't notice that he stopped breathing until he coughed out.

It was four pm. He still had three hours left.

And it felt like waiting for the guillotine to fall. For the choir to stop singing, for the last scene, when the director would say, cut.

Was he cut out for all this? He didn't know and he didn't dare to question it. He knew that from some spirals, he couldn't get out.

So how did Coda do it? How did he just, leave his creations, to die, to never be appreciated and seen? To be able to tell others of what it was supposed to be?

Why couldn't he consider the feelings of his creation?

Why couldn't he appreciate the code?

And why did he invite Davey over, for the first time?

---

20092311_230320.mp4

"I still don't get it. It's supposed to be a self expression but why would you self insert in a way that's supposed to be accessible, supposed to be PLAYED if you don't give it to others? Video games show a story in many ways. Sound, sight and most importantly - interactibility. So what's the point of a language when you keep it to yourself? We would not go far enough if-"

Hearing some knocking on the door make him pause the recording. He hated that - he typically picked an hour when others were away just so he could have a moment of peace to write everything down with his voice.

Davey sighed and turned around, asking his brother to come on in.

Whatever was the topic of the conversation was probably not important, as Davey didn't mention it in the recording at all.

The last time he mentioned anything beside game making was around a year before.

The game jam wasn't a start - it was only an aftereffect.

Just as what was going to come next.

---

"(...) It's Friday already. And I still have 23 more games to check. He had to hide an easter egg somewhere, right? It's not just a hundred of copies of the same room. He always shows some nuiance in routine, in the whole madness.

It's... 2:33 now. I have to wake up in 4 hours.

But I won't be able to fall asleep until I find the key.

The puzzle IS here. It's in here, somewhere, and I am probably not seeing it correctly.

Ok. Just, maybe five more games. And I'll try to look through the code.

Davey, out."

20091301_052330.mp4

"It's me again. I don't know what I am missing. Probably some coffee. Just two games left, it's probably in there.

I'll take my laptop with me to work. They shouldn't mind, I did stuff like this before, I'll just pretend it's work related.

I'll crack the code until midnight. And I'll show him I've done my job correctly.

Now, I have to pack and hope the vending machine works.

Davey, out."

---

"Consumption is for consumers, not for the actual food enjoyers. But the enjoyers only are up their own theories of what the flavours really represent."

"But we're talking about game develo-"

"Which one are you? Do you enjoy food?"

Davey was not prepared to be put on a spot. Coda rarely asked him anything, or even said hi back - so, such forward question was not typical.

He wasn't dumb - he knew it was all a metaphor. And he wanted to just start his point showing that it isn't a perfect one. Now, he only had one true option to choose from because there would be no resets.

Or so he thought.

He heard a sigh and looked up at Coda as the man already turned his back.

"It was an illusions of a choice."

One that Davey once again couldn't make.

---

#The beginners guide #The Beginner's Guide #Coda #Davey #Davey Wreden #Writing #Fanfiction #My writing #Tbg #Ngl I feel way happier when someone comments on my writing than on my drawings ajshsh #Cus i feel it needs more brain power but alas #If this gets read by one person #I'm lucky #Skhshs

39 notes · View notes

writingformyblorbos · 2 years

Text

It's cloudy above (Part 1) [next chapter >]

Steven Grant × gn!Reader (possible Marc × Reader and Jake × Reader in the future) Summary: You spot the cute man from the bus while buying groceries and try talking to him. A strange encounters takes place later on. Word count: 2.2k Warnings: Mugging, canon-typical violence (death, guns, you know the drill), swearing in Spanish, not proof read (taking risks is my speciality not really). a/n: This is my first fic in a loong while, but I wanted desperately to write something for Steven and make a shameless self-insert. I just love him so much. Also, I don't think I'll want to see the word mushroom in a long while. Lastly, I want to apologize in advance if i got the intricacies of London's public transport wrong, I tried to do my best as a foreigner with the most research I could. I hope you enjoy:)!!

It was late in the afternoon on Sunday, and you had gone to your nearest Tesco to stock up on groceries. You were on the vegetable isle, looking for some items from the shopping list on your phone. As you were reading what the next item on your list was, you couldn’t help but notice a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. When you looked up, you saw the back of a man with curly hair you swore you could almost recognize. When he turned around, you couldn’t believe your eyes. ‘Could it be? There’s no way,’ you told yourself. But it was. It was him; the cute guy from the bus you had a crush on.

You would see him often on your way to work, always having dark bags under his eyes, adorned by the messy curls in his head. He seemed like the shy type, and the poor man always looked totaled, like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in a long while, often falling asleep on the bus; there was even one time he screamed and looked frightened, which was weird, but you figured was because he'd had a nightmare. Who doesn't dream a clown is chasing them every now and again? You didn’t know that much about him, only that he would get off on Trafalgar Square and that he was a person keen on history and other intellectual stuff, judging by the hieroglyphs on his phone case and the kinds of books he would occasionally read on the bus to keep himself awake, poetry and history books of the sort —always wearing his reading glasses, of course— yet your little knowledge of him and his generally disheveled appearance didn't stop his sharp jaw, his curly hair, his beautiful brown eyes, and his intriguing interests from drawing your attention, leading you to develop a crush on him. He was the whole package, after all (smart and handsome).

But one day, he stopped boarding the bus. You figured he'd gotten a day off or he was sick, but days turned into weeks, and eventually, it had been a while since you'd last seen him. Maybe he'd switched jobs or had moved. Either way, he wasn't a part of your life anymore.

Or so you thought, up until today, seeing him going about his errands. You stared at him in disbelief. He still looked as tired as ever, you could even say he looked more tired, like he'd been working out an entire week non-stop. You wanted to ask him so many things, but there was no way you could ask him why he no longer took Bus 24 without sounding like an absolute creep. You contemplated on whether it was better to leave him alone or if you should try talking to him, but this feeling in your gut told you this might be your chance: what if you never saw him again and just lost the opportunity of a lifetime? So, you started brainstorming any kind of small talk you could spark up in the supermarket without it being awkward. Then bingo! He was holding two packets of mushrooms: one was a packet of normal mushrooms, and the other was a packet of sliced mushrooms, and he was looking at them indecisively. You could help him and go from there?

You felt absolutely ridiculous, but you had to. Your conscience would never leave you alone if you didn't. So, you mustered up all the courage you could and made you way towards him. You took a deep breath, trying to stop your hands and legs from shaking, and said:

"If I were you, I'd get the sliced ones."

"Sorry?" he asked, a bit startled by the sudden comment.

"Oh! I just, I would get the sliced mushrooms. They really help you save up time. Unless you have skewers, then you can just..." —you gestured your hands as if you were pricking an imaginary mushroom with your imaginary skewer— "stick it in the mushes and slice them".

He looked at you a bit confused, but you could also see a glimpse of surprise in his eyes.

"That's quite impressive, seems like you know your mushrooms," He chuckled, leaving the normal mushrooms in the bin they were. "I don’t happen to have skewers back at home, so I guess I'll just take the sliced ones, more practical. Thank you"

"No problem," you smiled.

Great, what now? That wasn't the most captivating conversation starter you could bring up. Perhaps it was a stupid idea to try talking to him, 'he probably thinks I'm a weirdo for talking about mushrooms' you told yourself, so you decided to turn around and get back to your business.

"Wait!" You heard from the dark-haired man, "do you happen to take Bus 24 in the mornings?"

No way. There's no way he actually recognized you. Now that you thought about it, what if he thought you were stalking him? I mean, you weren't, but anxiety often leads you to the most extreme trains of thought.

"Uhh, yeah! Yeah, I do," you answered, nervously waiting for him to get angry.

"That's mental! I remember you. You watch videos of cute animals, yeah?" He immediately looked flustered, like he regretted what he'd said, "I mean, not that I eavesdropped on what you were doing on your phone. I only saw it once."

You were relieved he wasn't angry, but also a bit amazed he'd remembered that small detail. He said he didn’t eavesdrop, but that was clearly a lie. Watching cute animals was a must in your daily commute to work though. You could see he was a bit embarrassed by his comment, so you tried to reassure him.

"Oh no, no worries. I once saw you reading a book on Ancient Egypt, right?" he affirmed with his head and seemed to be a little less afflicted, so you tried breaking the ice a bit more. "My name is (y/n). (y/n) (l/n)" you said as you offered your hand for a handshake.

He shook your hand back, with his big, calloused hands, "Steven Grant. The Steven is with a 'v'"

Steven. ‘A pretty name and very fitting,’ you thought. He indeed looked like a Steven.

"It's nice to finally know your name, Steven with a 'v'".

“Likewise, (y/n),” he nodded back, and you both stayed silent for a while, smiling and blushing.

"Well, I'll see you around then. Cheers!" he waved off. There he was, again, slipping through your fingers, like sand on the desert. Come on, had you really gone through embarrassing yourself by talking about mushrooms to just see him walk off? Steven was such a mystery, but one you wanted to know oh so desperately. It was now or never, you had to try to ask him out, or at the very least get his phone number.

"Hey! Uhm..." You called out. Steven turned his head and looked at you with those gorgeous eyes of his that made you feel all jittery inside.

"I was wondering if, I know we just formally met, but..." you started fidgeting with the keys in your pocket, trying to get the words to come out of your mouth, "Could we exchange numbers? I would really like to see you again, and I know this place that makes amazing pastries, so maybe... we could go out?"

That was it. You shot your shot. The ball was in his court now. There's nothing else you could've possibly done. It was only up to fate if—

"Yes, I'd love too."

Your eyes probably shot out of your face, similar to a cartoon, because of the way he looked at you, with a tiny bit sweet grin on his face. You were absolutely over the moon. He said yes! You swore you would’ve danced in the middle of the veggie aisle if it wasn’t considered something weird to do.

Still, you managed to stay calm on the outside and exchanged numbers with Steven. Finally, each one went on about their shopping. But on your way home, you couldn't help but feel butterflies in your stomach thinking about the next time you would see handsome Steven Grant again. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long.

By the time you’d finished placing the groceries in their place, the sun had gone down, adorning your windows with London’s city lights.

You were sitting on your couch, scrolling through your social media. One of the hottest topics of the moment was the latest hero-related incident: some people started dropping dead for no reason in Cairo, which would be shocking news if the world didn’t seem like it was on the verge of ending every couple months. Apparently, a cult had been behind the attack, and there were two heroes involved. One was a woman with curly hair and her suit had golden wings, people started calling her the Scarlet Scarab, and there was this other man with moon motifs who seemed to be able to go from a full-on costume with cape to a fancy suit; people hadn’t come up for a name for him, yet. If it was up to you though, you’d call him the Moon Shifter, or something along those lines. You were glad you weren’t in charge of naming superheroes.

Tired of reading about this latest tragedy, you stood up and opened the nearest window to admire the nocturnal landscape, a cold breeze hitting your face; it felt oddly comforting. You glanced around the street. Nothing was out of the ordinary, just the usual noise of cars passing by. You felt as though the city was luring you out of your flat to go on some moonlit adventure around its streets.

You figured you wouldn’t be going on an adventure, but you sure as hell were starving and didn’t feel in the mood to cook, but there was a Chinese restaurant not far from your place you could get some takeout from. Determined to get your dinner, you grabbed your coat, a pair of shoes, your tote bag, and headed out into the windy streets.

As you were walking to the Chinese restaurant, you felt someone was staring at you from a distance. When you were about to turn around, someone on a moped snatched your tote bag from your shoulder and drove off.

“Hey!” You tried chasing the person with your belongings to no avail, they were long gone. Your first thought was to call the police, but your phone was inside your tote, along with your wallet. You scooped your faced and whined in desperation, feeling this empty hole in your chest. You figured your best course of action was continuing your trip to the restaurant and ask if you could borrow the phone to call the police, so you continued making your way to the restaurant in resignation.

CRASH!

There was a loud noise not so far from where you were. Weary of your surroundings due to what had just happened, you cautiously made your way to the noise. You poked your head towards the alley where it came from and, to your surprise, saw the same moped that had just mugged you crashed into a garbage container. The guy was in the floor, pleading for his life, and in front of him was a figure with a white cape who remained silent.

The caped person only took a step forward, retrieved a gun from his waist, directed it to the man, and said in a raspy voice:

“Mejor ruégale al diablo, pedazo de mierda”.

You covered your mouth to stifle the tiny yelp that escaped your mouth when the shot was fired. You felt the urge to throw up as you saw the man lay lifeless on the pavement.

“Ahí está, Jonsu. ¿Necesitas que me ocupe de alguien más hoy?” The man said nonchalantly to the air, as if he hadn’t just killed a man. Silence followed. Was he expecting someone to talk back to him? Then, he growled in desperation, “¿Qué? ¡Pero Harrow está muerto, tú mismo viste que lo maté!”

It seemed he’d gotten a response, but he wasn’t too happy about it. After a few moments of the wind talking to him, he turned around, looking directly at you.

Shit! You hid from him on the outer corner of the alley. You could hear his steps drawing nearer, but you stayed frozen in fear. He was probably going to kill you for what you’d just seen. Then, the footsteps stopped. You slowly opened your eyes and got a full view of the man. It was the superhero from Cairo, only his costume looked slicker, less mummy-like.

“This yours?” he asked with his thick accent, reaching your tote bag towards you. You nodded.

“Be more careful,” he warned as you grabbed your tote bag from his hands.

As soon as you had a hold of your bag, you made a run for it. After all, you’d just gotten mugged and had seen a man get shot, so you definitely weren’t going to stick around to chit-chat with the superhero in front of you. After running for a bit, you made it to the Chinese restaurant. You opened the door and slammed it shut, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?” the person at the register asked. You made your way towards them and slumped down in the counter, head burried in your arms.

“Can I get the large combo?”

Another a/n: Tysm for reading! I am going to be working on a follow up to this fic, so look foward to that. I am planning on making this a Marc × Reader and Jake × Reader series , and maybe even add Layla into the mix because, lke I said at the beggining, I live vicariously through the fanfics I write and I am a bisexual disaster who would really like to be in a poly relationship with all of them.

#moon knight #moon knight series #moon knight disney+#moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fic #moon knight x reader #moon knight x y/n #moon knight x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x gender neutral reader #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n

384 notes · View notes

stellevatum · 18 days

Text

Please at least give it a read! Liking this post also means it’s more likely I will follow back, as I know you have RAU’d.

Updated 04/24/2024

ABOUT:

Kar/Karmun/Karthonic either-or. If you'd rather separate mun/muse you can use my middle name, Asher to refer to me.

They/Them is cool.

From New York, so the timezone is EST.

Birthday’s January 1990, so 30+

Spoonie with AuDHD

Artist, and educator, so I can get busy. I commute, so I'm on the train for a few hours a day,

You can reach me on here or on discord. Just ask.

Personal blog @karthonic.

On mobile most of the time.

I left the Tumblr RPC 4 years ago so forgive me as I catch up with the new etiquette, etc.

GENERAL:

Above all else: Be Excellent to each other and party on, dudes!

This sounds redundant to post this but: If you have no intention of RPing with me don’t follow. Lurking for a bit before reaching out is fine, but I would like genuinely interested folks. Optional, but I've made an interest checker to help organize things.

This incarnation Kar is for SCIENCE FICTION/SPACE OPERA like verse. Her Contemporary/Urban Fantasy/Paranorma;/Supernatural self can be found at @obscurushydrae

While she's Star Wars Based, don’t sweat it if you don’t know the other stuff. If your fandom/verse has a way in, I can finagle her into all sorts of place (she's literally an cosmic horror at heart).

That ‘selective’ part comes into play. I have every right to not follow someone, decline a roleplay, just as you do. Just be polite and respectful.

Crossover/AU/Multiverse/Self Insert friendly. Not your thing, then feel free to not follow.

There will be casual mentions of recreational drug use, more often than not mentions of alcohol than drugs, but will be tagged upon request. Other possible triggers are her fatalistic humor.

This is not a content resource blog. If you’re here for the pretty pictures, aesthetics, or memes, this is not the blog for you.

Communication is key. My muse might be intimidating, but I'm not-- just very busy and on mobile more often than not. Don’t know something, or want me to elaborate: ask! I forgot a reply or not feeling a thing anymore, lemme know. I'm good.

Godmoding is discouraged but I’m not going to stop it. I will likely try to out ridiculous you Bugs Bunny style. Even though she can’t die, you’re free to try and kill her, but let me know first (either way she’s gonna be pissed FYI).

Most art is mine but will be credited. If I reblog any art reposted without the original creator’s permission, let me know. I’ll remove it.

IN CHARACTER:

Compatible Fandoms (ie I am Familiar with): Star Wars, Mass Effect, Borderlands, Alien/Predator, Dune, The Outer Worlds, Subnautica, No Man's Sky, Galaktikon, RaM, H2G2, and more!

Kar for the most part, is literally the Force. In a body. Raised by mortals, so she thought she was. And spent most of her life just vaguely gesturing and just going with "humanoid." Force sensitive characters might be able to sense her, but she can mask it.

As for appearance, unless you’re really looking you might notice the fangs. And for the most part, assume she’s wearing her signature sunglasses covering her eyes since those rarely are taken off in public.

While not usually brought up, but Kar has attempted to end her life and self-harmed. Nowadays it’s usually just masked with fatalistic humor, recreational drug use, and lots of drinking.

SHIPPING:

Shipping is welcomed and willing to discuss the possibility, but I leave the rest to chemistry and just how we as writers write. Kar is into male muses, and will be polite about turning other people down, unless one doesn’t take the hint.

That being said, don’t ask to ship with me and just…drop off. I believe in mutual enthusiasm. If you're no longer interested, just communicate.

This blog is multiship, meaning each relationship is treated as its own separate place in the multiverse unless discussed and agreed upon.

Kar can be polifidelitous. She’s okay with having multiple partners and those partners having partners if your character is cool with it. But she can be selectively monogamous in your little bubble.

NSFW may be on here, or I might do it over discord. I'm playing it by vibes. As I don't really have any established romantic stuff since rebooting, I can't say with any certainty.

FOLLOWING/UNFOLLOWING:

Please don’t follow/interact if you’re under 21. If I follow anyone underage, it’s because I wasn’t able to access any about/ooc information, please don’t take it personally if I unfollow!

If I don’t follow you and you follow me, please just hit me up before doing something. Just because I don’t follow means I’m not interested, I just don’t think our characters mesh with the information given. If we chat about it, who knows!

If I follow you or like a post but not follow, it's likely because I want to check out your rules but can't find a mobile friendly/need time to look through things. If you follow back, I'll message as I don't want to overstep.

I don’t usually greet/interact with personal blogs, so side blogs off personals give me a heads up. Otherwise, I might miss you.

ASKS:

Askbox will only be open for IC interactions, save for when the meme specifies Mun. IMs are for OOC communication. Anon feature is for sideblogs, multimuses to interact ICly with me. Any Anon messages good or bad directed to the Mun (outside of memes) will be ignored.

No Magic Anons, please!

There’s no need to wait to send me a meme if you’ve followed me for 5 minutes or 5 months, send the thing.

Reblog Karma is going to be enforced on this blog. That is, if you reblog an ask meme off me, please send me one. Otherwise, reblog the meme from @karref

THREADS:

Jump on any open post, there’s no need to ask permission, they’re there for that reason!

I will be keeping my posts simple! I don't have the time/energy to make formatted posts, and I like to keep things as accessible as possible. I do try to keep track of the heavily plotted stuff, but the casual things might drop off. Feel free to remind me if it's been a bit!

Communicate! If you’re having trouble writing a reply, talk to me! If you don’t like or not feeling a thread, say so and drop the thread. That also doesn’t mean things are done for good. Come to me if you want to skip/do something else.

If you’d rather we move things to discord, just ask! I’ll set up a server just for us!

TAGGING/ HARD LIMITS:

Blood, Gore, Body Horror, Drugs, etc, will be tagged with (name); for instance drugs; . Special Tags on request.

Posts will be tagged upon request, just let me know!

If you read and understand this, I would appreciate if you'd leave a like the post, that way I know you have without forcing a password.

But if you'd like to message me, here's a DM icebreaker: What's your favorite extinct animal? (If you're lucky I may have cool fact about it.)

HOPE TO WRITE WITH YOU SOON! :D

#nav;

8 notes · View notes

after-witch · 3 months

Note

Oddly enough Pearl played by Mia Goth reminds me a whole lot of the Smiling Man. The similarities aren't all there, but being quick to anger is the big one. Pearl being insane, impulsive, and violent creates a more 'mentally disturbed' image compared to The Smiling Man. He's tricky, manipulative, and seemingly 'nonchalant'. That's until a literal tween outsmarts him, not once, not twice, but thrice (excluding Dark Waters). It's then we can start to see him losing his cool, I can imagine him tightening his grip ever-so-slightly every time Ollie would shut him down in Empty Smiles. However, it's clear as day Pearl is a psychopath, but I guess that's all a part of being human. The Smiling Man, on the other hand is not. Something about him, an otherworldly being that takes the form of a young, notably human, man, showing normal human emotion is so attractive. Imagine him raising his voice at something slightly bothering him, something you'd think no one, let alone the Smiling Man, would get upset over. Getting emotional. And then, bam, the next second he's fine. Perhaps giving you a certain look, making you feel like you're the one in the wrong, a faraway look in his eyes. God knows what he could be thinking, if anything at all. That's just how the Smiling Man is. Sighhh, life isn't fair. Is asking for the Smiling Man to fool me (and all his devoted fans) over and over again, and trap me in the mist so he'll be the only thing I see for the rest of time too much to ask for? Either way, it's been far too long since my last ask and I NEED to have your take on this. Also good luck with job interviews <33

Oh, what a wonderful message to wake up to!

Imagine him raising his voice at something slightly bothering him, something you'd think no one, let alone the Smiling Man, would get upset over. Getting emotional. And then, bam, the next second he's fine.

I think it would take him a lot to raise his voice! He does so like to appear calm and collected. But then yes! Any seemingly stronger emotion is immediately smoothed over.

Spoilers for the book series behind the read-more!

In some of my vague-daydreams-to-turn-into-fics where the self-insert character ends up being his servant, and they have this longstanding relationship where he finds that he'd like to keep this servant around for reasons he doesn't really understand, there's usually a moment where he does wind up raising his voice a bit--but just once, and it's so uncharacteristic for his normal demeanor that it's truly shocking.

For me, I wouldn't view him as yelling or shouting or screaming in any sort of wildly uncontrolled manner. But even him raising his voice a little when he's gotten all heated--like "You dare to..." or "You really think you could..."--is a rather horrifying prospect. Because when that gentlemanly facade he puts on cracks even a little? You know you've fucked up. Majorly.

And sure, he'll smooth it over quick, and you'll wonder if you ever heard him raise his voice at all. But it doesn't change the goosebumps that ran up your arm, or the shiver that went through your body. He is older than you, and stronger than you, and has seen things your human mind couldn't fathom--and do you really think you could best him in any way?

I think the most we see him losing control in canon is in the first book, when Ollie not only rejects his offer, but reveals how she's gotten the info she needs to escape and starts releasing the scarecrows' souls with water. And he's standing there with his mouth all big and creepy, looming over her, threatening her, looking afraid, but he can't do anything to stop her. Because he's desperate, he's lost, this is unexpected and a dire situation.

"Seth looked less human now. His grin still took up half his face, but the eyes above were malevolent. “Little fool,” he said. “I am older than you. I am stronger than you . . .”

But then he snaps back once she says she'd bet her life on being right on how to escape, and his eyes had "almost a look of wonder," and he bows and is all 'courtly' again.

But in Empty Smiles, we also see him getting so frustrated with the repeated denials, to the point that he's irritated ("Save me from stubborn girls") and gives up a chess game without a word, and actually frowns when Ollie goes into the funhouse. (But! We know the frown is perhaps because he doesn't want her to go in for reasons that aren't just preventing her from getting the key…)

In terms of his stronger emotions, I think it's a bit scarier for him to remain calm and collected but for a little tell, like how Ollie started to feel like she could tell when his smiles were happy or not, when he was pleased or displeased, etc. His little sighs, or irritated expressions.

In a human, these expressions, little things, mean nothing at all. But in him? Who is normally so unnervingly polite, so relaxed, in control... it's unnerving.

(On a not-really-related note, sometimes I think about the imagery towards the end of Empty Smiles, of Coco and Brian getting to the carnival and seeing him, but not really seeing him properly at first, because his face is all hidden by shadows and there's nothing but the wild carnival lights behind him. Siiigh.)

Is asking for the Smiling Man to fool me (and all his devoted fans) over and over again, and trap me in the mist so he'll be the only thing I see for the rest of time too much to ask for

It is NOT. Although I often debate on whether I'd rather be trapped in the mist so he's the only thing I can ever interact with forever, or whether I'd rather he use up my soul until it's dry and crunchy and feed it to his dog Hound. Both sound appealing...

Thank you for sending in a smiling man ask, 'non!! They make me happy. And thank you for the well wishes re: job search!

#small spaces #smiling man

7 notes · View notes

kiri-ah · 3 years

Text

With A Bow Tie s.jn

(click header for high quality)

I am so sorry about this but this is a female/non-binary reader insert, I can't think of a way to make this work for a male reader, it's too self indulgent. I'm so sorry, really. You can still read it of course, but there are some details that might be a wee bit off.

taglist because i think my friends will like this: @danishmiilk @lebrookestore @leejunini @allegxdly @hannie-dul-set @alicanta77 @multifandomcoffeebean @batshitcrazyauthor @bluejaem @mingiswow and if I forgot you please send me an angry message lol

You've never understood how a bow tie works. Any male figures in your life used full-on ties or the little clip-on bow ties that you don't actually have to, well, tie. Then you started dating Johnny Suh and discovered that bow ties were relatively common, most of his (humongous) friend group used them more often than a long tie.

The morning of his friend Taeyong's wedding, the two of you are getting ready in your shared hotel room, him in his suit and you in your best clothes. Johnny looks absolutely stunning and you find yourself wondering how he would look if you were to walk down the aisle towards him. You nearly melt from the image; even in your head, he has the prettiest smile. You snap out of your thoughts when he asks you to help decide which of the two ties he brought looks best. You raise your eyebrow in amusement.

"You brought two ties to the hotel?"

He goes to run a hand through his hair before remembering the gel in it and freezing his hand mid-air. "I couldn't decide yesterday, I thought maybe I'd be more sure today," he tells you, and you can see he's just as exasperated with himself as you are.

"Okay," you say with a laugh. "I'll help, but you have to teach me how to tie a bow tie, and not laugh at me."

He doesn't hesitate even a moment before saying, "deal."

You tell him that you think the red tie goes better with the occasion and he nods, ready to take your word for it. In exchange, Johnny shows you exactly how the oddly shaped fabric turns into a bow.

"Okay so you start a little bit like tying shoes," he says, showing you. "Then this bottom piece gets folded in half, making one half of the bow. Then you wrap this other side up and around, securing it." You watch with something akin to awe as he twists the fabric with nimble fingers and makes half a bow. "Now this other side gets folded in half as well and you tuck it through the back to make the other half of the bow. Then if we just tug a little it straightens out into a nice bow!"

"You make it look so easy," you breathe out. "Can I try on your other one?" He looks down at his watch, smiling at your enthusiasm.

"When we get home, I'll let you practice until you can make a million perfect bows," he tells you, "but we're going to be late for the wedding if we take much longer, and I'm a Best Man. I can't be late."

You huff out a breath but follow him out the door after grabbing your things. You're more eager than you'd like to admit to see the mystery fiancee of Taeyong's. He's kept her to himself for too long.

When you arrive at the wedding there are people streaming into the church, Johnny's whole enormous group of friends is here, some with their significant others, and so are older adults and- is that Xing-Yi?!

You gasp, looking at Johnny. "I think I know those girls! I'm gonna go see if they know who the bride is." You kiss him on the cheek and before he's even answered you're speeding off towards the group of surprisingly familiar faces.

"XING-YI!" you call. She turns all the way around and it is her, and around her are Krystal, Nini, Storm, Felix, Allex, Bruna, Bean, Taytem, Aditi and other friends from your high school years.

"Y/N!" she exclaims delightedly, and opens her arms for a tight hug of welcome. "I didn't know Brooke invited you!"

"Brooke?" you echo, confused. "I'm here for Taeyong, I'm dating his friend Johnny." You barely have a moment to consider the fact that Brooke forgot to invite you. Then again, Taeyong did, and they couldn't invite you twice. Brooke is the bride?

"Taeyong?" says Allex. "Skinny kid, always dancing, all the girls and the gays wanted to have sex with him?"

"Yeah, he got more attractive, and he's also the groom," you tell the group.

"And Brooke is the bride?" Nini is all out squealing. You wince at the shrillness. "Dude, I can't believe they kept this a secret for so long!"

"I can't either," remarks Sicheng, coming up and putting his arms around Xing-Yi's waist. You roll your eyes. They're ones to talk. It took ages to get Xing-Yi's name out of Sicheng's mouth and even longer for you to meet her and realize that it was your Xing-Yi. Allex seems to have the same thought and her mouth is halfway open before she appears to think better of it and closes it again. She's been dating Jaemin for years, a fact you were very jealous of until you met Johnny. They're rather… flamboyant about their love for each other.

Then finally everyone is sitting down and of course you sit with the girls because Johnny is up with Taeyong, who looks gorgeous as ever in his suit and (actual) tie. Allex wasn't kidding; all the girls and a surprising amount of guys wanted him back then, and probably still do. Now he'll be Brooke's to hold and to cherish forever. You desperately hope that she's not the jealous type.

All of a sudden music starts playing and Brooke walks through the doors to the chapel in all her glory; her dress swishes around her legs as she walks, train falling gracefully to the floor, thin veil over her face and she looks amazing, and you find yourself beating back jealousy. You will not ruin this beautiful occasion with envy. Her smile is visible even though the veil and she just looks so happy.

After the service everyone is socializing and most of the chatter, from what you can tell, is about how ‘it was Brooke all along’ or ‘can you believe she's married to Taeyong?!’ Apparently they kept it a secret from everyone except their parents. Eventually the bride and groom come in themselves and people are swarming them; your group stays back. You have all the time in the world. Johnny comes to find you in the crowd and then finally it's your turn to go congratulate the couple and tell them how fantastic they looked. They're a great match.

When you get home the next morning after sleeping in and driving from the hotel, Johnny lets you practice how to tie a bow tie on him, patiently instructing you.

Life is good.

56 notes · View notes

monsterlovinghours · 4 years

Note

So... I found an interesting tweet and was wondering if you'd write something sexy for it.... "In Vietnam it's a popular belief that if you are single in your 20s there is a ghost following you and hindering your romantic life because it wants to be with you and I just want to tell my personal ghost to quit being a coward and fuck me already." Also I claim the ✨ Emoji, if that's okay?

That’s fine with me, Starburst! holy fucking moly this took me forever to finish and this turned out way longer than i had originally planned but fuck this is such a neat idea and it just kinda snowballed but it’s finally done hurrah!!!!

fem!reader, just bear with me i am soft and full of feelings and i need to self insert

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she unlocked the front door to her empty apartment. Her empty, cold, lonely apartment. Another unsuccessful first date, ruined before any real potential could be reached. Everything seemed to go wrong; first her car wouldn't start, then her Uber was late, the table next to theirs at the restaurant was noisy and obnoxious, and the movie they had wanted to see had been sold out. Her date hadn't offered any suggestions to further the date, just sighed and took her home. He didn't even try to touch her, barely looked at her, and that stung more than she cared to admit, to feel invisible and undesirable. If he was the first, second, or even the fifth, it might not have hurt quite so badly. But the numerous dates she had gone on since entering her twenties had all gone the same way, ending too soon without a single spark of chemistry. Was there something wrong with her? Was she that repulsive?

Sighing, she swallowed her tears for the moment and walked dejectedly to her bedroom, dropping her purse and keys as she went. Down came her hair from the careful twist she had pinned it into, Mediterranean blue waves spilling down her back, her dress shed and her shoes kicked off. Makeup removed and dressed in panties and an oversized shirt, she slipped into bed, curling up with a pillow hugged to her chest. Finally, she let the tears come, sobbing out her hurt, her frustration, her loneliness. She had thought that perhaps this would be the one that went somewhere, that she'd finally break the cycle and maybe, just once, she'd have the chance to feel wanted, to feel seen. To love and be loved, like everyone else. But no; either she was entirely unloveable, or some force out there was deliberately fucking things up for her. In desperation, she angrily muttered through her tears, "Whatever cosmic entity has decided that I'm going to be lonely and hurting forever, could you either fuck off or come fuck me yourself?"

Thud

Something fell from her desk, something relatively heavy, and she sat up with a start and a gasp, her heart hammering. Her journal had fallen to the floor, lying open on a date that was still several months in the future, and the pen that she kept tucked in the pages…was standing upright on the page, scribbling something onto the paper. Her heart rose up into her mouth, fluttering sickeningly. That...was...not normal. Slowly, she slid out of bed, approaching the journal as if it were a live thing, dangerous and fanged and unpredictable. The pen finished whatever it was writing and fell over, and she knelt to read the message it left behind.

i thought you'd never ask babe

She sat back, her eyes darting around the space as if she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious specter that seemed to be listening, watching. Her voice soft, hesitant and tremulous, she asked, "Is someone there?"

Instantly, the pen flew upright again, scratching something out just below its previous message.

been here the whole time sorry about your date.

"Oh my fucking god," she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Who...who are you? How long have you been here? Are you the one fucking with my love life?"

whoa one question at a time babes

To calm herself, she took a deep breath. "How long have you been following me?"

5 years

"Jesus." She let out a breath, unsurprised to feel her hands shake as she ran them back through her hair. "Why?"

its complicated id rather tell you face 2 face

Her brow furrowed, getting to her feet to switch on her light. "Okay. So come out and talk to me. Why are you hiding?” The pen scratched across the paper insistently.

invisible not hiding

“So...make yourself visible?” She crouched by the journal, noticing that the pen was digging into the paper so hard it was nearly tearing it.

Can’t until you say my name

“So what’s your name?”

Can’t tell you

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. The pen suddenly flew across the room, where a poster that had been hanging on her wall swung loose, then fluttered to the ground. Her poster of the constellations. The pen was circling something, a name...the name of a star.

“Betelgeuse?”

Almost excitedly, the pen wrote next to the star, the words jagged and sloppy.

Two more times!!!

She paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. “Beetlejuice.”

One more one more one more please baby gimme one more

One beat, then two, then she threw caution to the wind and spoke the word one final time. “Beetlejuice.”

Her light flickered, as if to announce the sudden appearance of a very real, very solid looking figure standing with their feet planted on her poster, wearing a suit of dirty black and white stripes and a grin that could light up a small town. “You said it! You finally said it! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for five fucking years and you finally said my name!” Before she could speak or even breathe, he had all but lunged for her, wrapping her up in his arms, the smell of damp earth filling her lungs even as he tried to squeeze the breath out of them. Ineffectually, she squirmed in his over-enthusiastic embrace, trying to wriggle away, to take a minute to process what the fuck was happening and who the fuck was standing in her bedroom right now.

“Wait wait, hold on, so...your name is Beetlej-”

“Shhhhh!” He clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t say it. I’m sorry babes, but I’ve waited too long for this to go tits-up now.” He lowered his hand slowly, that grin resurfacing. “Okay, so I know you’ve got a lot of questions and you must be pretty excited to meet your own personal ghost but before we get to the boring stuff I gotta do one thing first.” Without giving her a chance to ask, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her to him even as he dipped her back and kissed her, his lips like ice, though surprisingly soft. What surprised her most was not the kiss itself, but rather her lack of aversion to it; she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long that she was desperate for any kind of affection, even the strange, otherworldly, and rather abrupt kind. Oddly enough, she even found herself kissing him back, her fists gripping the lapels of his coat as he set her upright again. That Cheshire grin still hitched the corners of his mouth high, and his gaze raked over her like a physical caress, cool, white hands still curved in her waist.

"Alright. Fire away, babes, ask me anything."

"Um…" Her head spun, thoughts racing, heart still pounding a chaotic timpani in her ears. "Did...did you say 'my own personal ghost'?"

"I sure did. You're one of the lucky gals that gets a ghost attached to ya when you reach adulthood. And you've got the luck of the draw, sweet stuff, because you managed to snag the Ghost with the Most!" His thumbs hooked into his suspenders, though oddly enough, two hands still stayed clasping her waist.

"And you...you've been fucking with my dates...screwing around with my love life for five years?"

Her voice raised a bit in pitch, and he had the presence of mind to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, but none of those schmucks were good enough for you. I had to scare 'em off, you're mine."

"Excuse me??" She broke his grasp, stepping away from him as her brows knitted together in hurt and anger. "I've spent five years convinced there was something wrong with me, that I was repulsive or unattractive or unlovable, because no one ever made it past the first date, and you waited this long to tell me that it was you the whole time? Do you have any idea how worthless I felt after each failed date? How broken a-and defective I felt? How-”

“Hey hey, take it easy for a second, dollface!” He grasped at her wrists; until he grabbed them, she hadn’t realized how wildly she was gesturing. “Look, I tried. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw you to get you to talk to me. It ain’t exactly easy for the dead to communicate with the living. But you knew I was there, didn’t you? Hasn’t every house you’ve lived in felt just a little bit haunted?” She paused, thinking back to all the doors she had closed but hadn’t opened, the objects on the floor that had been sitting secure on a shelf when she’d left, the quiet moments when she couldn’t sleep when she swore she could feel eyes on her. Encouraged by her pause, he continued. “You breathers are stubborn, you just don’t wanna see what’s right under your noses. Until tonight, I barely had enough influence on the living world to push a piece of paper off the desk. But you...you called for me. You finally gave in and called for me.” He grinned again, and though the fangs should have made him seem frightening and demonic, he just seemed...relieved. “I was finally able to tell you my name, and let me tell ya, there hasn’t been a single sound in my very, very long existence sweeter than you calling my name.”

She took a deep breath in, processing everything he had told her, everything that had happened in...god, had it only been three minutes? “What did you mean when you said that...I was yours? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Means you’re mine, babe. It means that you’re my girl.” Something dulled the gleam in his eyes, and to her surprise, the green in his hair began to fade to a deep, shamed violet. “I was there for every night you fell asleep cryin’ over some guy who would have only hurt you in the end. It gutted me that I couldn’t do anything to help. You’re my baby, and I don’t like to see you hurt, and I really don’t like being the one to hurt you. But it had to be done. You didn't belong with any of them." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as his hair faded back to green, as if he were forcing the color to appear. "We're wasting too much time talking when I should be kissing you."

"W-We just met!" The outrage on her voice felt like a show, a dutiful proper response to finding a green-haired, handsy ghost in her bedroom. But she hadn't once tried to wriggle out of his arms, unconsciously leaning closer when his hand slid up her spine.

Beetlejuice shook his head, stepping into her, strands of pink peeking through the green of his hair as he felt her body against his, solid and oh, so warm. "We've known each other for years, honey. You may not have had a face or a name, but deep down you've always known I was there. If I was just some stranger, you'd have run for the hills by now." She wanted to argue, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. His presence felt familiar, like a memory from her past she had all but forgotten about, but the emotions attached still lingered. It was why she hadn’t struggled when he reached for her, hadn’t tried to shake off his grasp, had kissed him back. His grin widened when she didn’t argue or protest, and he pulled her close, her body flush to his; he all but purred at the way her lashes fluttered, her hands naturally settling on his shoulders, as if they had done this a hundred times.

“Let me kiss you,” he rasped, holding her chin in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, babe, please...let me give you a real kiss.” There wasn’t much more than a fraction of a second of hesitation before she nodded, gaze flicking to his mouth just before the distance closed and her brought her lips to his. With that first urgent kiss out of the way, this one was softer, more patient, sweet, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she parted them without question. Oh, it was wonderful, more so than she had ever dreamed, to be kissed like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, to have hands pressed so close to her skin, as if she would slip from his fingers and shatter if he let go. She wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up on her bed, but the softness of the duvet embraced her as he laid her back, kneeling over her. She moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against hers, the sound echoed as he tasted the first flickers of her pleasure, soft and tremulous, like the first stretch of the wings of a newly emerged butterfly.

“I wanna touch you,” he growled, his kisses trailing down her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good already, baby.” One of his hands rested at her collarbone, waiting for the invitation to slip lower. “Please, honey, let me pull your shirt up? Wanna feel just how warm you are under there…”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, leaning up on one elbow. He seemed confused, perhaps just a touch annoyed, but he stopped. “All those years you spent following me around...did you ever…” She gestured to herself. He smirked.

“Of course not. Not that I didn’t want to, sweetness, but when I saw you for the first time, I wanted you to be able to see me back, y’know?”

“And when I...had...alone time?” She arched a brow, and his grin widened.

“Didn’t see a thing. Scout’s honor. Though, I definitely heard quite a lot. You know, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned her head to the side in an attempt to mute the color rising in her cheeks. “Nope, huh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, babe.” His fingers gripped her chin again, bringing her gaze back to his. “I want you to keep looking at me, no matter what.” She nodded, and he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good girl. Now, lemme get a look at you.” Perhaps not quite as slowly as he should have, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, groaning as her breasts came into view, soft and tipped with dusky pink. “Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered, and she moaned as his hips pressed into hers, seeking warmth and friction. “Such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen you come in from the cold, saw these little beauties all stiff and hard through your shirt, and wanted to tease them with my tongue until I had you moaning and squirming.”

She shivered, letting loose a soft sound of want as he settled his weight more firmly over her, purring like a cat as he leaned down to kiss her nipples, first one, then the other. A moan left her as she felt his tongue softly lick at one stiff peak, her hand tangling in his hair, which to her surprise pulled an answering moan from him. Seems she had found a weak spot.

Oh, she had never dreamed that this would feel so nice, his mouth at her breasts, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing. His hands, still cool but warmer than before, squeezed the full flesh, kneading restlessly, and she arched her back, pulling her shirt off all the way and moaning. His scruff tickled her skin, made her shiver and break out in goosebumps, and she let her fingers drift through his hair, causing him to spill little growls and purrs against her skin.

"Ohhhh, baby," he groaned, lifting his head, his hair a deep rose pink, his pupils wide, drinking in the sight of her. "Baby girl, I've dreamt of this moment for five years, I wanted to make it so good for you. But I don't think I can wait." His hand slipped down her body, palm flat to her skin to touch as much of her as he could at once, then slid between her legs, inside her panties to cup her sex, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit. She keened, her toes curling, and he groaned in response. "Please, babe," he murmured, pushing the tip of his middle finger into her. "Please?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, god, please."

There it was again, that mega-watt grin, his mouth split wide with joy. "Thank you, doll, fuck...oh, I've been wanting this for far too long." He sat up, and in the time it took for him to be upright again, his clothing-suit, tie, and all-had vanished, leaving him naked and visibly throbbing. His hands shook as he pulled down her panties, his cock twitching as he saw her bare for the first time. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my god…” Nearly the same temperature as her now, he touched her, thumb rubbing her clit as he pressed two fingers inside. “Has any guy ever done this to you before," he asked lowly, his free hand sliding up her thigh as he watched his fingers slide in and out of her.

"No." Her answer came immediately with a shake of her head, hips rolling against his hand. "No one."

"I knew it." He grinned, withdrawing his fingers and popping them in his mouth with a deep groan. "Knew you'd wanna save this for me." Licking his lips to savor her, he crawled over her, grasping himself to guide his cock to her entrance. The tip pressed inside, and he groaned, shivering as he saw her teeth come down on her lower lip. "Feel okay?"

"Feels great," she murmured, reaching up to hesitantly cup his cheek in her hand. "You can move, honey, you won't hurt me." Her heart gave a funny little stutter as he nuzzled into her palm, as if craving her touch. He began to rock his hips, so shallow and gentle, widening her for him, though she could see the strain it put on him to go slow, the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Any last doubts she had about him melted away as she fully understood the care he was treating her with. To wait so long for somebody, to be with them every second and watch them laugh and cry and hurt without you, to ache with the need to touch them and be near them, and for the object of your affections to not be able to see you, let alone touch you...she could only imagine how frantic for her he must feel, but he was taking the time to consider her comfort, setting a slow pace despite the fact that it must be torture for him. “Beej?” She spoke the nickname softly, and his gaze focused on her with laser intensity, teeth exposed in a grin. “You don’t have to take it so slow, I won’t break.” Her thumbs stroked over his cheeks, slipping down to cup the sides of his neck and trace his jaw. “I want you to...to feel me. I made you wait so long, honey, but you can make up for lost time now. Don’t hold back.”

A thousand expressions crossed his face at once, his hand sliding around the back of her neck to lift her head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Baby,” he rasped, sounding on the brink of some tremulous emotion, “are you sure? I want this to be good for you-”

“This is as much for you as it is for me. If...if we’re really meant for each other, then isn’t it my job to take care of you, too?”

Beetlejuice let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his lips pressing desperately to hers. “How did I get so fucking lucky to land a babe like you?” And with a snap of his hips, he was fully hilted, his eyes rolling back to the whites as she jolted in his arms, her wet warmth squeezing him, gripping him so tight. A string of curses left his lips, some in a strange language she suspected wasn’t from anywhere aboveground, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, that’s it, babycakes,” he crooned, his hips rolling, groaning with each delicious slide within her velvet. “Ohhh shit, you take me so well...yeah, fuck, you feel so damn good, sweet stuff. You doin’ okay?”

Oh God, was she ever. It was a little uncomfortable at first; while he was average in length, he more than made up for it in width, and there had been a strange burning as she stretched to accommodate him. But that sensation of fullness, of movement, of joining...was indescribable. It felt like breathing for the first time. Like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Like the ceasing of a lifelong pain she had grown too used to to notice until it was no longer there. “Yeah,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m great. P-Please, you can go faster.”

He looked stricken at the glisten of her eyes and the tremble in her voice. “You sure? We can stop if it hurts, babes, I don’t-”

“No.” Her hands shot up to thread through his hair, yanking on it to pull him down into a kiss, the first time she had kissed him. “God, no. It doesn’t hurt, honey, it feels...oh, you feel so fucking good…” To emphasize her point, she squeezed her walls around him, bucking her hips up, and he groaned, shuddering against her. “More, please, I need more of you.”

His mouth left hers, but his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to leave her skin, kissing across her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear, down her throat. “Fuck, say it again,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat as his pace increased, pushing harder, faster, the sense of something on the verge of collapse filling the room around them.

She knew what he meant, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair, neck arching as her hair spread across the pillow. “I need you,” she repeated, her body meeting his, rising up as he pushed down, rolling and cresting and crashing like waves against the shores of her bedsheets. “I need you, please.”

Whatever splintering dam had been holding him back finally broke, and he latched his teeth into her throat with a cry, slamming into her with unrestrained passion, marking her at her pulse, her collarbones, even just under her jaw. She was his, his, and no one else could ever have her now. She had called him, accepted him, opened herself to him in so many ways, in ways he never dreamed a beauty like her ever would. Praise dripped from his lips like rain, showering her in attention and bite marks. Her back curved, her body alight with sensation, each nerve electrified as she held him tighter and tighter, curling herself around him and letting herself get lost in him. This was everything she had wanted, everything she had been missing, in the world’s most unconventional lover. Affection, pleasure, desire, playfulness, care and attention. Her heart melted, her entire self surrendering to him; she felt it now, felt the rightness of his claim. She was his, body and soul. She always had been.

His moans changed in pitch, his thrusts frantic, mindlessly chasing his pleasure as he took her hand, pressing it into the bed beside her head as his fingers wove between hers. “Babe, fuck, I’m gonna come...can I come inside you, baby? Huh? Can I fill you up, sweetness, fill you up and make you come with me? Please, baby girl, I’m so close…” He growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded, almost too breathless to reply. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I’m already yours.”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before releasing it. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m y-oohh fuck!” She cried out, cursing as his free hand began rubbing her clit, hard and fast, tripling her pleasure all at once. “I’m yours!”

“Again, babes…”

“Yours, Beej, I’m yours!”

“Louder, baby, scream for me!”

“Yours!”

With a shout, he broke, his entire body shivering as he came, cool and so deep within her she could practically taste it. The fingers at her clit didn’t let up, and moments later she was following him, her pleasure crackling through her, spreading like lightning across a stormy sky through her body. Her vision faded, dimmed, but the light of his smile and the sound of his voice remained clear as day, grounding her as the muscles in her body unfurled one by one, her body collapsing against the bed as the pleasure faded slowly. There was the sensation of something dripping down her thighs, something wet and just slightly cooler than her own skin, and a delicious little shiver went through her at the sensation, heightening the little aftershock tremors.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow of her breasts, “that was worth the wait.” His hands cupped them, pressed them together as he buried his face between them. For a few moments, everything was silent and still, his lips skimming her skin in little butterfly kisses as she stroked her fingers through his hair, catching her breath. Then, she heard something, heard his voice, heard a muffled voice murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his face ever so slightly, but not looking up at her, he said loudly, “I said you have nice tits!” The words tumbled out of him a little too quickly, and the sudden flush of pink in his hair was a sign that he hadn’t meant for her to hear him, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Either way, she didn’t press the matter, smiling secretly to herself. His kisses, however, became firmer, his tongue even darting out to flick against her skin, and she moaned, wriggling against him as his lips began to migrate south.

“Where’re you headed, honey?”

“God, I like hearing you call me that.” He grinned up at her, licking over her navel. “What, you didn’t think I was done with you, didja? No way, dollface, I’ve got five years of lovin’ to make up for.”

She could have made the argument that they had tons of time to make up for those five years, but as his fingers spread her open to allow his tongue to lap at her clit, the sentence was erased from her mind, her hips jolting up into his mouth. It had been worth it, she decided as his clever, hungry mouth sent her spiraling into one frenzied orgasm after another. All the heartache and tears and lonely nights had been worth it, since it had all lead up to him. For the first time, she felt wanted. Felt loved. Felt truly, finally seen.

206 notes · View notes