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#the field fic
ao3-crack · 6 months
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charliemwrites · 2 months
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Fields of Elation
Part 1
Rating: E Warnings: Dubcon if you squint
The garden has become a riot of color in the last week.
Native blooms in every vibrant color you could find, praying for pollinators to watch from the reading nook. The first butterfly fluttered in yesterday morning while you sipped tea. You could have squealed with excitement, aching to tell someone and denying the twinge in your chest when you realized who “someone” was.
You’re not thinking of him now. No. Absolutely not. Gardens are not for blood-soaked, violent men that smell like gunpowder and smoke – and neither are your thoughts. Your thoughts are to be as sun-soaked as the flowers, bleached out by warmth and light. Depthless, shadowless.
There’s soil dusting your fingers. You kneel in the flossy grass to plant wooden dowels, support for drooping stems growing too tall, too fast. You’re endeared by them, that they’re exploding with so much life that they need a helping hand. Perhaps you’re anthropomorphizing them a bit too much. This little recess you’ve carved out of the world is beautiful but lonely.
You hum a soft tune as you bow twine, some happy new pop song about summer. Heard it on the radio in the grocery store and haven’t gotten it out of your head since. The back of your neck prickles.
“Missed your voice, bonnie.”
You yelp as big, rough hands scoop you from the ground. Strong fingers grip your thigh, a wide palm supports your ribs, tugging you close to a thick, muscular body. The rough fabric of tac gear sands against the exposed skin of your stomach. You flail until your arms loop around broad shoulders, a chuckle rumbling into the hollow of your throat.
“Missed that noise specifically.”
You gasp air for another shout, but get jostled up into a fireman’s carry, wind knocked out of you. There will be no screaming for your distant neighbors this time.
“Put me down,” you wheeze instead.
“In a mo’, love.”
You grunt indignantly as the ground blurs beneath you, tools left behind as powerful legs tread the path back to your little house. Spend the disconcertingly short journey thinking of new things to call him, since you’ve been running out.
There’s a heavy wooden thump.
“Don’t kick my door!” you screech.
“I’ll fix the damn door,” he growls back.
Your head spins as you’re dropped to your bare feet on the wood floors, just inside the back door. Steady yourself on corded forearms to catch your bearings, then open your mouth to give him a dressing down he hasn’t had since recruit days.
But a hot, wet tongue slides against yours, curling expertly into your mouth. Dry, warm lips pressing hard. That same arm curls around your chest to gather you close; the breadth of him steals your coherence as much his kiss. Your venomous words are superseded by a soft noise, one that you’ll deny is the admission of pleasure he takes it as.
When he pulls away, you find your fingers curled in the muted green of his shirt, knuckles pressed against his beating heart. Its pace matches yours.
You flutter your eyes open, find summer blue gazing back. Softer than the grass you just knelt in, warmer than the sun in your hair. You swallow back surrender, blink away admissions.
“I was in the middle of something, you bastard,” you snap.
John MacTavish grins back, crooked and arrogant, the scar beneath his eye pulling. “It’ll keep.”
“Then so will dinner.”
His eyes light up. You curse as you realize your mistake.
“You gonnae cook f’me, love?”
“No.” You back away, but it’s like trying to outrun the wind. He manages to make your deliberate retreat feel like a choice he’s making, hedging you deeper into the house. Back, back, unerringly corralling you towards the bedroom. You know it, but you’re helpless to stop it.
“S’alright, you’ve been cookin’ enough, I reckon,” he drawls. “Don’t mind makin’ somethin’ fer you.”
If by “cooking” he means cobbled together snacks that level out to something like nutritional balance, then yeah. You’ve been cooking for yourself.
“Not enough ingredients for two,” you snark, eyes sliding away in a show of dismissal. “You’ll have to starve.”
He smirks, balancing you with hands on your waist when you bump the bedroom door ajar. Your stomach clenches up like you’re on a rollercoaster. Know what’s coming next but dig your heels in anyway.
“Nah, just gonnae eat now.”
Your mouth drops open just as he pounces, squealing as your back hits the mattress. The ceiling is decorated in fairy lights you forgot to turn off this morning. They twinkle brightly as John wrestles your dirty cotton “work” shorts off your thighs, leaves them hanging off one calf.
“Goddamit!” you shout as he tears through yet another pair of underwear. Nothing special, mind, but it’s the principle of the thing. They’re not his to rip.
“Gotcha more ‘fore I came home.”
That doesn’t make it better, you try to tell him. What comes out is a warbling moan as he buries his tongue in your pussy. Licks from your shamefully leaking hole to your already-throbbing clit. He grunts in reply, deep and rough in his wide chest. Drops himself onto the floor for better access, pulling your thighs over his shoulders.
Eats you out like this really is his first and last meal. Sloppy and wet and loud, audible over the sounds you try to stifle behind your forearm because your hands are still dirty. Get away with it for all of a minute (being generous) before he’s pulling back just enough to speak – even if it’s right into your cunt.
“No, no, no, we have a deal,” he growls. You whimper as his hands clamp down on your squirming hips. “I’m home now, you’re mine. This pussy, those noises, they’re all mine again.”
Your hands fly to his hair as he dives in again, tangling in dark, course strands as he laps at you like a dog. If you could rally the brain power to speak more than unintelligible sounds, you’d mock him with that imagery. But knowing him, he’d revel in the comparison. Would bark just to prove a point.
You can’t stand that you know him.
“That’s it,” he rasps. “My goddess.”
You arch as he sucks your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the bundle of the nerves. Thumbs massaging into the plush of you. Stubble prickling a bit; you’ll have to remember to tell him off for that later.
“Missed me too,” he continues, flat of his tongue licking a long stripe up your slit. Strings of your slick web between his mouth and your pussy. “Dripping like you missed me, anyway.”
“D-didn’t,” you whine.
He chuckles, the absolute devil, humming as he curls his tongue inside you. Doesn’t believe you, doesn’t even deign to challenge it. Just keeps fucking you on his mouth, groaning when your twitchy fingers tug at his hair. Doubles his efforts, any semblance of restraint crumbling as the time and distance overwhelm his usually infallible patience. Overwhelm you too.
It’s been so long – since the night before he last left. You’re oversensitive and touch-starved and John is a feast for your body and soul. Lose everything to the tides of lust, the current of ecstasy. Washed out to a sea of bliss, floating on awful need. Tilt your hips into the next swipe of his tongue, back arching, thighs tightening as you shudder.
“John,” you keen, “John, Johnny.”
He makes a gutted noise. One hand jerking from your hip to slide two thick fingers into you. Tears gather and rebel down your cheeks as he zeroes in on that sweet, achy spot inside of you. He is a man for whom mercy is scarce and he has none to spare for you, stroking and tapping relentlessly. Your peak rushes up frighteningly fast, voice lost in the shock of it as you clamp down.
He works you through it, savoring your orgasm like the first inhale of smoke in his lungs. Keeps licking and rubbing until your sobbing with overstimulation, trying to scramble away.
“No, John,” you warble, “t-too much, please!”
The sound when he pulls away is utterly obscene. If you had any room in your empty brain for embarrassment, you’d wish for the mattress to swallow you whole. You flutter your eyes open and stare blankly at the fairy lights as you struggle to breathe.
John’s kissing your trembling thighs like he didn’t just ruin everything all over again, whispering devotion into your beard burn.
When you manage to sit up a bit on shaking arms, you find him kneeling there. A supplicant to the alter of your pleasure. Ruthlessly handsome, war-torn. His chin glistens with your slick. You reach to wipe it away, but he catches your wrist in a deceptively gentle hand. Keeps his blown-out eyes on yours as he presses a slow kiss into the center of your palm.
Words bubble in your chest, too honest, even for you.
“My hands are dirty,” you whisper.
“Never.”
You curl your fingers around his jaw. Tell yourself it’s not a caress, no matter how he leans into it. “When did you get back?”
“Eighteen hours.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. Gather your scattered wits. “You wore your damn boots in the house.”
He huffs with amusement, leans his forehead into your stomach. “I’ll mop.”
“You’ll shower first. You smell like travel.”
“You’re coming with me.”
“I have to finish in the garden.”
He scowls even with his eyes closed. You tap-tap-tap absently at his shoulder, where your hand has naturally come to rest.
“I’ll come out with you,” he grumbles.
“You’ll scare the birds.”
“Fuck the birds.”
You tsk, but there’s no force on earth that will keep him inside. “Mean bastard.”
He grins against your stomach. “Darling wife.”
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ghostyolive · 9 months
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“What happened to Santa after 999?” He is traveling the world with Snake to do this in as many IKEAs as possible.
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snurtle · 3 months
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I've been thinking about the templars lately. they were promised honor, virtue, told that they would be charged with protection of the innocent... And then those same people are systemically exploited and abused, abuse others because they're taught to regard everyone else as either sheep who need to be lead or potential threats. Never equals, except in their brothers/sisters-in-arms. They act as the guard-dogs and military arm of an entirely different organization that they're only a functionary member of but have no governing say in. Even the chantry aren't their equals- they function as the templar order's supervisors! And all this isolation and closing of ranks ends in disability, addiction, death, and abandonment by the system they spent their bodies in service of.
To top that off, retaliations against them just confirm the paranoia they were taught to embrace. It's probably a long hard road to get out of that hole.
Like, listen. the dichotomy of mage vs templars is a satisfying and easy one, but the system is tearing them apart too. have you ever heard of a retired templar?
at the end of it, mages and templars need to unite against the real threat. the chantry.
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saeist · 1 year
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there was one thing ticked off your bucket list this year and that was going out the country with your long time boyfriend, itoshi sae.
sae was able to bring you along to spain for this season's soccer tournament. he even went as far as getting you a schengen tourist visa just so you can stay with him until the tournament finishes
and with that, today was your official first day in spain.
luckily for the both of you, sae had an extra day to spare before training. so being the boyfriend he is, sae took the responsibility of being your tour guide and show you around the city he lives in, madrid.
sae took you to all his favorite spots to spend his leisure time if he had some and even took you out on a lunch date at his favorite 5* michelin restaurant.
after exploring the city, you two find yourselves in the busy streets of puerto del sol. there were so many stores and vendors out and about. there was something so endearing hearing sae talk to the locals as you two do your little touristy things such as getting a romantic portrait drawn by some artist on the street.
on the way to the local park, sae spots a florist and buys a bouquet of flowers for you just because.
"¿cuánto por estos?" (how much for these?) you hear sae ask, while pointing at the selection of premade bouquets up on display. you tug on his arm, protesting about how he already spent so much today. sae simply shushes you and continues to converse with the vendor.
"para tu amante?" (for your lover?)
"sí, tomaré esto para mi amante" (yes, for my lover) sae says, wrapping an arm around you. almost like he was showing you off to the old lady selling flowers. she smiles widely and says something in spanish that you obviously didn’t understand.
"ya que ustedes son tan lindos, ¡les daré esto por la mitad del precio!" (since you guys are so cute, I'll give you this for half the price!)
you look up at sae to see him blush a little.
"¡oh! realmente no tienes que hacerlo..." (oh! you really don't have to...) sae says sheepishly, rubbing the back of neck.
the old lady simply laughs and hands you the bouquet of flowers sae picked.
"you are very lucky" she dotes, giving your hand a squeeze. you look at sae to see him smiling down at you.
"muchas gracias" you chirp, looking between the vendor and sae. the vendor laughs and waves goodbye as you two walk away.
"que el verdadero amor que comparten hoy se fortalezca a medida que envejecen juntos!" (may the true love you share today grow stronger as you grow older together!) you hear the old lady yell out from the distance.
the day finally ends when you and sae walk back to his apartment complex.
"so did you have fun today?" sae asks, giving you glance as you two walk hand in hand in the busy streets of madrid.
"is that really a question?" you raise a brow at him, nudging his shoulders. sae laughs, his insides feeling like mush that he finally has you with him. he was no longer alone in spain. no more long distance. no more late night calls, no more timezones. no more.
sae suddenly crouches down in front of you. you take a look around your surroundings to see some bystanders watching the scene unfold before their eyes.
"what are you doing?"
"just get on"
"is this the sae itoshi being romantic?" you tease, cheekily wrapping your hands around his neck as he hoists your legs up. sae smirks at your reaction.
"only for you, mi amor"
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lexosaurus · 13 days
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13 year old phandom writers 🤝 "NEVER call me DAN"
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wasabi-gumdrop · 5 days
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working on some character designs for neon glory 🤭
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demonicseries · 3 months
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me explaining how they accidentally made lokius canon using mathematical concepts such as chaos theory and dynamical systems
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muchmossymess · 2 months
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Merlin: Off again? Another week in the wilderness? Eating weird animals, being eaten by weird animals. No hot water and no hot baths. This will be the last time either of us get to sleep in a proper bed.
Arthur: Merlin, I'm prepared to face all manners of horrors in this world, but if you think I'm sharing this bed with you-
Merlin, laughing: What? No! That's not what I meant.
Arthur: Right. Good. Comfort to know.
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arcielee · 6 months
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Lazy Sunday
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Summary: Billy enjoys a lazy Sunday with you. Paring: Billy Washington x Female!Reader Word Count: 1655 Warnings: Comfort fic with some smutty smut, oral (f receiving). Author's Note: My first time writing for Billy is dedicated to the wonderful, the talented @helaelaemond. Thank you for answering all my questions ranging from the judicial system to what kind of underwear he would wear. I hope you enjoy this! Beta read by the wonderful @sylasthegrim 💜 Dividers by @saradika 💜
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Billy was already awake, enjoying the gray morning and its muted light spilling through the sunblinds, the soft pitapats of raindrops on the glass window. You were bare and curled against him, your leg thrown over and threaded between his, your arm draped across his abdomen and hand rested against his hip bone. 
He relished in your touch, the comfortable warmth and softness of your skin that melded so perfectly against his lean frame. He would argue that he was too skinny, but you had never minded, your arms wrapping around his slender waist and laying your head on his chest to feel the low thrum of his heartbeat beneath. 
Now in the quiet of the morning, the only movement was his fingers drawing lazy designs along your spine; the unbeknownst prickle of your skin and the wake of goosebumps that followed his gentle touch, your subtle rise and fall with your breathing and the overall simplicity of this moment began to knit its way into his memory, another he would tuck away with the others, with his utmost affection. 
You hummed awake and shifted to press a kiss to his chest before pulling back, bringing your hand to itch your nose from where his chest hair tickled. “Good morning,” you said with the last remnants of sleep dripping from your syllables, “have you been up long?” 
“No,” Billy lied.
And you knew it was a lie. You immediately pulled further back to meet with his eyes; they were usually bright, but seemed solemn with the gray lighting. “Did you have the dream again?” 
It had not been said out loud, but Billy loved you, truly. You were his saving grace personified, coming into his life in the wake of the consecutive wrecked events–his blatant stupidity and arrest, after the threat on Cranstead field, after the magistrate showed mercy out of respect for his sister’s service and he was given a suspended sentence as well as community service to make amends. 
This was how he first met you, by happenstance. Your watch was weary the first time he slinked into the coffeehouse, but you soon learned he was harmless. Billy made it a routine to visit after his hours logged for the day or the mandated therapy sessions he attended; he would ask for a coffee and seven sugars, and eventually you would have it ready, waiting for his arrival. 
He found it easy to talk with you, and you had an ability to see his potential, but without a nagging criticism; you had a sharp wit to bring things to his perspective, but allowed him the breakthrough at his own pace. 
“You need to heal for yourself, Billy,” you would often remind him. 
And he did just that. The mandated therapy was an unknown godsend, allowing him to purge his mind of the poison, the corruption that came from before. He strived to be the good man you swore him to be, until it was no longer your sweet mantra repeated, but an actuality. 
Billy was still far from perfection, something you both were well aware of. Some nights the terrors of what happened hung heavy in the shadows, but he would wake with your gentle touch, your soothing tone that brought him back to reality. You would remind him that healing was a process and you proved to be limitless with your patience with him.
And this was why he loved you.
Billy hummed. “I did not,” and this time you knew he was telling the truth. The murky cobalt of his eyes settled on you, a mischievous glimmer that brightened the blue of them as he shifted his weight to kiss you. “I have only been appreciating,” he spoke with an emphasis, littered between his sloppy kisses, “admiring what is mine.”
You squirmed in his hold, your cheeks flushed from his timbre that tickles your skin. “And what exactly do you think belongs to you?”
He paused for a moment and you saw the furrow set between his brows, the flicker of recognition to the challenge presented with your tone. “Allow me to show you,” he murmured with a warm exhale that made your skin rise in response, shifting to climb on top of you. 
You could not help your smile, your hands quick to cover your face but he pushed off to follow, catching your wrist with his hand wrapping around, his fingers overlapping. Billy was careful to pull it away, leaning closer for a sweet kiss. “Let me show you,” he repeated with a whisper against your lips and the blood coursed to your features as he began to move lower.
His mouth was hot with the trail of kisses towards your core, the occasional pause to suckle and his admiration of the love mark that bloomed behind. Your skin rose with your shudder, your nipples pebbling with the contrast of his soft lips to the scruff that lined his prominent jaw. 
You sighed with your smile, moving your legs, knees bent and legs parted for his broad shoulders; Billy fit between, his large hands following the outside of your thighs and resting on the slope with a hold that dimpled your skin, until his fingertips touched your hip bones. 
His sandy blond hair spilled when he dipped forward to press an intimate kiss and your back arched in response. 
“It tickles,” you gasped.
Billy hummed again and you felt the low vibration against your cunt. “Let me,” he murmured, one hand releasing its hold on your hip and moving between. His long and slender fingers pressed against your folds to allow his tongue to run its velvet length.
You shuddered from it and could feel his satisfied grin, his warm exhale now on the wetness pooling between your thighs. He had always been attentive to your every sound and your visceral reaction seemed to fuel his ministrations, pressing for his tongue to lave the bundle of nerves above; another shuddered breath wretched from you, from the pleasure that fluttered the length of your spine and back. 
Billy mimics the patience you show him outside the bed you shared; he shifted again, his fingers almost fluttering, a gentle prod at your entrance until one curls within and with purpose. His finger fucks your slowly, searching, and his eyes watch you carefully, waiting to see.
In the beginning, you had always shied from him. Billy would bring you close with his repeated plea against your skin, “Let me learn,” and eventually you opened to his touch. 
Now he added a second digit to his purposeful curl within you and you mewled his name. Billy leaned between your thighs, his tongue flitting to tease your clit and meeting with the tandem of his touch, pulling you towards the precipice of your building release. 
Your pleasure was scalding as it poured into your bloodstream, pressing against your seams. “Billy,” you gasped again and his touch is careful and precise, continuing this rhythm, already aware of the fluttering of your velvet walls. 
“Yes, good girl,” a rasped praise before his tongue flattened against your clit to continue to draw your pleasure coursing your veins, rushing back towards your heart fluttering with your release. Colors sparked bright against the grays of the bedroom and after a moment, your breathing began to relax and you, once again, can feel Billy grinning against your cunt, still two knuckles deep in your pulsing heat that synchronized with your heartbeat. 
Your head sinks into the pillows. “Billy,” is all you can manage with another sweet sigh, melting against the mattress, almost drunk from your climax. 
And he moved forward until his swollen lips pressed fully against the bloom above, another intimate kiss that jolted through you. “Billy,” you yelped, your warning paired with a blissful smile, quick to bring your legs together on both sides of his face, “I will crush you.” 
His cheeky grin is smooshed in the vice of your thighs, his long arm coming around to lewdly clean his fingers; you cannot help but bite your bottom lip, blushing at the sight he makes.
“Believe me when I say there are worse ways to go,” is all he offered, breaking through and climbing back on top of you. 
Your fingers combed through the mess of his hair, holding the sharp edges of his face that always seemed to soften with your touch, the flush of rose that spilled onto his cheeks and the glisten of your peak on his lips and chin. There is a new emotion that teeters towards the edge of your tongue, something that you have felt for Billy for some time now, something that was still new for you; you swallowed the emotion and instead kissed him, relishing in the taste of yourself as his clever tongue curled into your mouth. 
You could not help the soft moan that spilled. “Billy, let’s not leave this bed today.”
Already you can feel him, the heady heat straining against the loose boxers that hung on his hips, heavy against the inside of your thigh. His arms are bent and propped on both sides of you, caging you against the mattress, and he watched you for a moment before leaning in for another kiss; it was slower this time, as if he meant to draw the very breath from your lungs. 
“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” his shy admittance fanned your cheeks and you can see the brilliant blue showing bright in his eyes again. 
“Good,” you grinned. “There better not be.”
And Billy paused for a moment. You see his knitted brow, just the flicker of grim that washed over his sharp features. “There isn’t,” he insisted. He pulled back, his large palms moved to stacked beneath the natural slope of your breasts, his chin resting on top to hold your gaze. “I mean that.” 
And you know he does.
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Taglist [Tumblr kindred spirits]: @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @aemondx @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass [YOUR BILLY STARTED THIS 💜] @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @itbmojojoejo @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire
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arcie's masterlist
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astermath · 10 months
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steve harrington, whose girlfriend is a beauty school student.
steve who lets you put rollers in his hair to practice the placements.
steve who lets you make special face masks out of ingredients at home and apply them to his face, no matter how strange the concoctions may sound. his skin has never looked better.
steve who lets you practice makeup application on him, because “he just has the bone structure and lid space for a good smokey eye”. he’s a little hesitant at first, but he has to admit, he does feel pretty beautiful after looking in the mirror.
steve who eventually lets you give him a haircut, possibly tainting his supposed “best feature”. he’s nervous as hell, but he still lets you try. you do a great job, and he only lets you cut his hair from then on.
steve who can’t stop smiling and giggling when you try to put eyeliner on him, making it impossible to get a straight line. you both end up in a laughing fit, and the liner ends up all smudgy and crooked. you end up calling it “editorial”.
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mattastr0phic · 1 month
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Agent Ukulele retrieving Agent Myriad from the car wreckage in my friend Teal's lovely fic Would You Still Love Me If I Was A Horse? PLEASE read it...
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theglamorousferal · 1 month
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you know what trope I miss from the Phandom? Field trip aus. Whether it's to the Ghost Zone and things go wrong or it's a separate trip that goes wrong, I just miss them.
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tragedry · 3 days
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"It was the third time this week where her brother got into a fight, and the more he showed up covered in bruises, the more she could feel him slipping away from her grasp. Taylor doesn’t know what she’d do if he ends up getting even more hurt just because some stupid kid couldn’t keep their mouth closed."
The Moon Half on ao3 // you can also check out version two on my ig!
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danoberry · 1 year
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★ sugar baby (burt fabelman x reader) SMUT 18+
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description: you notice an attractive older man taking a seat close to you on a park bench. you didn’t know he would end up spending so much to make you happy when you finally talked to him.
content: 18+ SMUT!!!, age gap (reader is of age obviously), burt is a sugar daddy, burt is also very much a dad, takes place after the movie “the fabelmans,” lots of use of “bunny” and pet names, cunnilingus, overstim, fingering, cum play if you squint
pronouns: you/yours (female reader)
wc: 3.5k
afab genitalia
A/N :
i wanted to post something on christmas for everyone but sadly i just did not have the motivation. so i present this instead (thank you to everyone in the discord server who encouraged this fic- it’s one of my favs now). happy new year’s eve!
Burt Fabelman takes a seat not a terribly great distance from you. He reads a book- a manual of some sort- while his fingers tip-tap on his thigh. You watch the man with intent. He must be approaching his 40s, you think. The minute stubble growing on his chin and pudginess on his stomach are pure indicators. There’s something about him that’s attracting you. The way he’s carrying himself, the way he’s handling everything he has in his clutch with care. Your cheeks started to heat up just looking at the man. You would’ve never expected him to be a sugar daddy.
I’m probably half his age! Who am I kidding? You think to yourself, taking your eyes off of him and looking down at the concrete. A homewrecker is never something you’d want to be labeled. You drown in thought as your eyes stare a hole into the ground, until a voice startles you, almost out of your seat.
“Hon?” 
You look up, and there he is. The man you were just fixated on, right in front of you. Your face flushes a deep red. You can feel the heat in your neck. 
“Oh- hi!” You say with innocence, like you weren’t just staring at him like he was eye candy.
“I uh… saw you staring a second ago. Are you alright?”
You smile, incredibly nervous. “Yeah! Hah… I’ve always had a staring problem.” You watch him slightly cock his eyebrow. 
“I mean- I didn’t mean to stare so much… I’m sorry.” You blush deeper, heating up.
“Oh honey, it’s alright! I was just making sure you were doing okay! You seemed a bit… disheveled.” He sits down right next to you, as you curse yourself internally. Your legs slowly turn to jello.
“Nope! I’m doing pretty good…” 
“I’m glad to hear that… I have a few kids who I can usually tell when they’re not alright. Of course they’re with their mom for the season… I guess I was trying to find someone to take care of when they’re away!” He laughs. 
You sit there with your legs crossed and your hands in your lap. Not necessarily uncomfortable from the man himself, but from the fact he was making you feel so damn flustered. You giggle at his remark, before he speaks again.
“I’m sure you have children of yourself, what’s a girl like yourself doing at a park with nobody?” 
You actually laugh this time. 
“Kids? Absolutely not, not yet.” 
“Really? I mean- you definitely don’t look old, definitely not as old as me, but you seem mature!” He says with genuine surprise.
“Oh, sir, I don’t even have a boyfriend- let alone a child.”
“Wow!” He breathes out. “It’s Burt, by the way, Burt Fabelman. No need to call me sir, you’d make me feel too old.” 
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant by it all!” You defend, scared that you blew it. But he’s quick to reassure you simply.
“It’s okay hon, I know.” 
You sit there for a moment, twiddling your thumbs, and look back up at him. Burt’s staring down at you. When his eyes meet yours, he smiles. It’s warm, sweet. It gives you a tingly feeling in your core.
“Are you really alright?” He asks again, concerned. “Your face is very red…”
He lays the back of his palm on your forehead and you feel like you’re going to explode. 
“No, I’m fine, really!”
He chuckles at your response and feels your cheek with the back of his hand, still very concerned with your state. 
“I have four kids, I know when they’re lying, too, honey.”
You hesitate. Should I lie? You debate. You revel in the consequences before you finally decide that you would come clean. You have nothing to lose, you don't even know the man, hardly. 
“Do you want the truth?” You ask, fiddling with your dress. 
“If it’s not gonna scare me off,” he says as he laughs.
“Well,” you start, ”this is embarrassing, but I saw you sitting on that bench, and I thought you were attractive and I guess I couldn’t stop staring- and I know that sounds really weird but It wasn’t like I was going to just get up and walk on over to say ‘Hello!’ because God only knows-”
“Woah! Hey!”
You bury your face as deep as they could possibly go into your hands out of embarrassment. God, you think, I sound like a fucking baby!
“I’m not mad at you!” He laughs. Oh. “Quite frankly, I think you’re beautiful... actually, way out of my league! Why would such a young, pretty girl want anything to do with an old man like me?”
Oh…?
“I… you just look like you know how to take care of someone… and I think you’re quite handsome,” You reply shyly, not daring to look up at him. 
“Well aren’t you just so sweet,” Burt replies affectionately, coddling you. “Look up at me, please.”
You look up into his eyes, afraid yet unable to look away. 
“How about this… I can take you back to your car, and I’ll give you my phone number so we can talk about it this evening. Does that sound good to you?”
You nod your head and walk with him to your car. If he were any other older man walking you to your car, you would have been exceedingly uncomfortable, but Burt Fabelman had a comforting presence as he loomed over you.
Approaching your car, your lips curl into a smile when you sit in the front seat. 
“Do you have a napkin?” He asks.
You reply with a simple “mhm” and hand him a napkin after digging through your purse.
He grabs a pen from his coat pocket and clicks it, writing his phone number on the napkin laying against his hand. You watch him finish his writing and hand the napkin back to you, leaning over the car. You stare at the writing, before looking back at him as he stands over you. 
“Promise me you’ll call?” He asks with a smile.
“I’m looking forward to it, Burt.”
Over the next few days you and Burt constantly talk over the phone. You even leave a chair under the phone on the wall for when either of you decide to call. You learn much about him over the days following— and vice versa. 
Those late night phone calls turn into less of casual discussions of the past, and more playful conversations of the present. You slowly realize how much of a flirt Burt can become when he’s comfortable. He proposes the idea of a date while you fiddle with the cord one late night, saying, “I can’t wait to see you again, bunny. Let me take you somewhere— the shops. I’ll get you whatever you want.” 
Burt was more than delighted to hear you’d be willing to go on a date with him. He hadn’t gone on a real date in years, and he was glad he’d be able to go on one with you. It was kind of strange for a first date, you thought, to go to the shops instead of the traditional dinner at a fancy restaurant, but you wouldn’t dare complain about getting spoiled by a charming, handsome older man.
You decide on a pretty dress and flats, adorning yourself with silver jewelry and floral perfume. Lipstick paints your lips and mascara enhances your eyelashes with every flutter. You carry your purse under your arm as you walk to the entrance, looking around for any sign of Burt. Almost immediately, he catches your eye. He stands tall next to the fountain, his glasses seated on his nose quite low, in a turtleneck and a blazer, an outfit that made you heat up admiring him.
Your face flushes as you stare up at him. 
“Hey, sweetheart!” he breathes quietly, pushing your hair behind your ear. 
“Hi- thanks for inviting me here,” you say as you smile at him. 
“Of course. Where did you want to go first?”
“Uhh- well, I have been wanting to hear the new ‘Temptations’ record.“ 
Burt chuckles, “Oh honey, I’d be more than glad to get you a record, but what do you really want?” 
You tap your foot out of nervousness, you didn’t really think he was being serious when he told you he’d buy you whatever you wanted on that phone call a few nights prior. “If I was being honest I’d really appreciate some new earrings, but you don’t-“ 
“Okay, then that’s what we’ll look at! Is that okay? I can get your record, too.” 
You feel slightly aghast by his offer, but you’re quick to comply. “I mean, it sounds good to me!” 
“Great,” He says, holding his hand out for you to grasp.
You take his hand and walk with him down the atrium, to the jewelry store. When you arrive, you both are greeted by a salesperson who helps you pick out a beautiful pair of earrings: pretty diamond studs. Despite your protests to Burt, because of how expensive they turn out to be, he buys them for you. 
“You really don’t have to spend this much money on me- I appreciate it so much, Burt, but really-“ 
“A beautiful lady like you needs a beautiful pair of earrings. Don’t mention it, doll. I insist.” 
He walks with you out of the store, holding the bag for you. 
“You should put your earrings in, I want to see them!” 
“Oh,” you started, “sure, why not!”
He holds the bag up to you to take the earrings out and put them in your ears. After you do this, you place the box back into the bag, thanking him again.
“They’re gorgeous,” Burt says, astonished. 
“Thank you,” you say, grinning wide.
He kisses you on the cheek and looms over you again. 
“Not as gorgeous as you though, for sure.” 
“Thank you,” is all you can dreamily mutter again, blushing at the floor. 
You hold Burt’s hand on the walk to the record store, blushing the way there. You arrive and quickly find what you’re looking for. You head to the register alone, but Burt insists you pick out a few more, and one for him to listen to. You pick up The Beatles, Beach Boys, and a few more with interesting covers. At the checkout, he forks out money from his wallet like it was nothing, rubbing your shoulder with his left hand. 
You two walk out of the store hand in hand, and mutually decide it’s time to go home, though neither of you want to truly leave each other's company. When you both reach the front gate, he asks if you want to sit in his car and talk for a moment. You immediately oblige and walk with him, taking a seat in the front passenger. 
“I don’t want to leave right now- I feel like I could spend hours with you,” you say with ruby-red cheeks, looking down at your feet. 
“I don’t want to leave you either, bunny. Look at me.” 
He gently tilts your head up at him, using the back of his palm against your chin. 
“Do you want to come home with me tonight? I’ll make sure we come back and get your car in the morning.” 
You look in Burt’s eyes for a moment and nod your head. He leans into you and plants a kiss on your lips, letting it linger for a moment, and pulls away.
“Throw the stuff in the back. I’ll take you, baby.” 
Your eyes frost over with tears formed from pure excitement, and a haze prohibits your view while you grin secretly, looking out the window.
You put your bags in the back and he drives off with you almost giggling in the passenger seat. You admire him at stoplights, his stature, mixed with the glow of the red, yellow, green on his face. You couldn’t believe it. He’s taking you back to his house. Who knows what you’re about to do.
He pulls into his dark driveway and turns off the engine, stepping out, as you do the same. He shows  you to the front door, and you both walk into the beautiful living room together, surrounded by windows. He turns on the light behind you and hangs his blazer on the rack.
“Wanna sit?” He asks as you walk in, motioning over to the couch. 
“Oh, yeah sure.” 
“Make yourself comfortable, hon.” 
You watched him grab two glasses of water from the kitchen and walk over to you, sitting them down on the coffee table and sitting down himself. 
“You really are such a beautiful lady, you know?” 
“Thank you, Burt,” you flustered. “You’re very handsome as well.” 
“I didn’t think I’d ever get to meet someone as pretty and sweet as you are, dear. You make me feel wonderful.”  
“I feel wonderful when I’m with you, too.” 
A grin formed on Burt’s face and he leaned to kiss you, to which you completely oblige as you deepen the kiss, humming into his mouth. Burt lays one of his large hands on your thigh, playing with his thumb, rubbing under the hem of your dress. His calloused fingertips toyed with the fabric. 
“Do you like it when I touch you there?” 
You nodded your head. 
“Okay, baby.” 
You feel your pussy slowly start to ache as he rubs  your inner thigh, kissing you hungrily. You feel completely swallowed by your attraction to him, as you spread your thighs apart and invite his hand farther up your dress. 
“Please, Burt,” you whisper. 
“I’ll take care of you, bunny.” 
He picks you up bridal style and kisses you again, walking you back to his room. You're placed on the bed and Burt lifts up the bottom of your dress, exposing your lace panties and the lower half of your stomach. 
“You wear these often?” He asks, gently squeezing the meat of your thigh. 
“Not necessarily…” you shyly remark. 
“They’re cute, sweetheart. Red’s your color.” 
He dips down and kisses you again. “Can I get this dress off of you?
You squeak, absolutely overtaken by affection, “Mhm.”
You sit up and Burt helps you take the dress off above your head. You feel exposed— lying there in your lace, while he hovers over you fully clothed. The feeling doesn’t last long, however, because before you know it, Burt is taking off his turtleneck and you see his pudgy belly sitting at the top of his pants. 
“I’m gonna fuck you so good, bunny. You want me to fuck you, hm?” 
“Yes, daddy,”  you whisper boldly.
“I haven’t heard that one before,” Burt chuckles. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel good, bunny. Come here.” 
You sit up and get closer to him, batting your eyes. He cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing it with his thumb. You kiss and nuzzle into the side of his hand, looking up at Burt with a neediness in your eyes.
“Such a pretty baby,” he says, in awe. “Lay back.” 
You obey his demand and lay on your back, your breasts almost spilling out of your bra. Burt leans over you and puts his hands behind your back, unsnapping your bra and taking it off. He cups one of your tits and pinches your nipple, requiting a squeak out of your mouth. Burt laughs and kisses your forehead, apologizing for shocking you like that, before he trails his fingers down your body, making you shiver in reaction. 
Burt grabs your sides and shifts you forward, beginning to peel off the sides of your lace panties. The slick, already formed on your panties, strung out for a moment while you watch him slowly peel them off, from your thighs to off of your ankles.
“So wet,” you hear him purr. 
He takes his thumb and lays it over your sensitive clit, making you hum a moan. He leans over the bed and brings his face to your heat, pulsing with need. You feel his hot breath against your folds, before he brings his lips to you, collecting your slick with his tongue, lapping up and down as you begin to cry out moans and curses. 
You feel him fuck you with his tongue and suck at your clit, making your back arch away from the matress. You hold his head down with your hand, screaming out against your other one. Your thighs begin to squeeze together as you cry out his name, almost squeezing his head along with them. You feel Burt take his rough hands and use both of them to hold your legs down on each side, squeezing into the plush of your thighs. The resistance turns you on more than you already are.
He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and uses them to spread around your pussy, lathering his fingers with fluid, pushing one into you while he sucks you all that he could. He begins slowly, but gets decently faster as he curls into you perfectly. You feel the knot in your stomach forming as he gets faster with his movements. You moan his name more and more, giving him validation that he’s doing a good job.
Your walls tighten around his fingers, making it harder for Burt to curl in and out of you. You feel your impending orgasm build and build as you try to relax your muscles and prolong your pleasure. 
“C’mon, I know you can do it bunny. Cum all over my fingers,” Burt praises. 
“Burt I- ohh- I- fuck!”
Your orgasm crashes over you in a huge wave, your muscles contract while you pant and repeat his name like a prayer. You notice your orgasm slowly calming, but your arousal sticking, and you realize he never stopped finger-fucking you in the first place. 
“O-Oh, baby! Ah-hnng… Burt!” 
He kisses up your stomach with wet lips. 
“I told you I was gonna fuck you good, bunny.” He raises his eyebrows and pulls his fingers out of you, smearing the cum all over the front of your cunt, all spent and red and wet, and wiping the rest on your tits, hardening your nipples from cold air. 
Burt picks you up by the hips again and adjusts you towards the headboard, shuffling off his pants and underwear. He towers over you, his cock leaking from his bright pink tip, thick enough to stretch you out but not long enough to hurt your cervix. 
“You ready for my cock, hon? Gonna let daddy stretch you out?” 
“Mmm, ‘m so ready, ‘m so ready, daddy,” you say, though absolutely spent. 
Burt spends no time hesitating to lather his cock with your juices, feeling your folds with his thickness and slowly putting himself inside you. You mewl as he leans over your body, his lower half deliciously touching your clit. You feel overstimulated but absolutely desperate for his body to be close to yours.
He fucks into you while wet noises fill the room, combining with your moans of ecstasy and his groans and grunts of pleasure. Your legs wrap around his back and he uses his hands to cup behind your head, bringing your bodies closer together. Your foreheads touch together, and Burt looks into your eyes, overwhelmed by your beauty and how good you make him feel. 
“Mm- Burt, baby, hnng- Daddy… please,” you cry out, salivating, pinching your eyes shut as he rutted into you and tears fell down your face, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of your bodies.
“Take it… all for me… bunny.” 
Burt gives you a kiss, mid moan, and by the time the kiss was over, your second orgasm happened almost immediately, crashing over you harder than your previous one. You let out a scream of pleasure while he fucked into you a few more times, finally cumming as well, painting your walls with warm, thick stripes of cum, that made your cunt clench even harder from the feeling. 
Burt kisses you again, slowly removing his cock from your dripping pussy, spewing it out with a pulse. Cum pools below your thighs, making the sheet sticky from under you. You both know it— it’s gross, but neither of you want to leave each other’s company. He lays down beside you, while your eyes flutter. You look cock-drunk from your drool and tears.
“You’re so good baby,” he kisses you. “You’re so good for me.” 
Burt puts the hair out of your face before you reply. 
“Thank you so much, Burt ,” you say with a yawn and a smile. 
“Of course, my pretty girl.”
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kyouka-supremacy · 9 months
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Can't take off my mind this very specific flavor of sskk dynamics from a timeline that goes like: the doa arc never happened. Skip forward to bunch of years past the canon events, and you have sskk who can't really call each other enemies since it's now evident to everyone they enjoy seeing each other, but aren't friends either since they do very much still work for enemy organizations. And they just keep stumbling across each other on their respective missions from opposite fronts, trying to capture the same target for their own team, and they keep fighting and competing with each other in a way that is almost playful (but never going easy on each other because then where's the fun!), making them both almost look forward to meet and clash with the other on missions and to fight for the same target. And the mission accomplishment rate has now decreased to a 50% for both of them but neither of them can bring themselves to really care because for the first time they're having the carefree, mindless fun they never experienced in their lives and they have a person they enjoy to spend time with to the point they even got past denying it. And Atsushi telling Akutagawa “even if I let you go now, I'll still have to hunt you down” and Akutagwa replying “hunt me then” and theatrically disappearing out of a window or something leaving Atsushi laughing and just. them being together although nobody is going to say it out loud
#atsushi nakajima#ryūnosuke akutagawa#sskk#shin soukoku#bsd#bungou stray dogs#mine#q.#24/10/22#I think it's not even that unlikely to happen either? To name one‚ something of the kind already happened in 55 Minutes#(Akutagawa being assigned to hunt down pm traitors and Atsushi infiltrating in the same group– same target‚ different goals)#I just think fic writers should let go of the trope of them being assigned to the same mission by a collaboration between organizations–#which is‚ let's be honest‚ so unlikely to happen and even in canon was a one-time occurrence#(yet is such a recurring expedient in fanworks!!!) and embrace the potential of Atsushi and Akutagawa being assigned to the same mission–#from their respective organization AS ENEMIES and unexpectedly meeting on the field.#The surprise!!! The romantic tension!!!! C'mon it's so good!!!!!!!#The eventual begrudging come to a temporary accord!! That is something they chose and is not imposed!!#The turning their back to the other last minute to guarantee their own victory!!#The playing everything from the beginning again and again like a loving dance!!! Now THAT'S a good trope.#Sskk typical unconventional mating rituals right here#And since y'all really like matchmaker Dazai you can still have him getting in touch with Chuuya–#and see to which parallel missions Atsushi and Akutagwa can ~accidentally~ be assigned together lmao#Btw this was largely inspired by Sway With Me by atsumara_co on ao3 that fic opened me a world.#The quoted line is partially reprised from that I couldn't help it it's such a great scenario#Usual disclaimer that you should really write whatever you want#this is more of a reflection on my personal tastes based on what I've found to be popular in the fandom#I've already talked about this before like I can't bring myself to hold it against authors because it is an easy way to make them interact.#Still for me it really cheapens their dynamics if you make them repeatedly join forces like it was the norm...#It stripes the value of them being from enemy organizations do you get what I mean?#Kyotag out
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