#working title: i clearly like torturing myself

[yourmidnightlover]

getting it over with - ch 1

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: after relentless teasing and being the butt of too many jokes, you ask bucky to help you become more experienced in… a particular area of your life

warning: precious bucky, virgin shaming?, virgin reader, slight male!oc x reader, sexual harrassment, illuding to sex, talk of sex

w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i am working on part 2 in my other series, timeless. i've been debating two different ways i could take it and it's been an internal battle trying to figure that out. that being said, i can't help myself and started writing this and so here it is! this will likely be a simple mini series with smut in the later parts, probably the next one tbh. anywho... enjoy!

another night with the girls, and yet another night of beng singled out and ridiculed over a miniscule part of your life. 

you were a well accomplished woman and yet all of your hard work has consistently been overlooked in nearly every conversation because of your extracurricular activities. or, well, more like your lack of extracurricular activities. 

you had been working with the avengers for five years now as their pr manager, living there for a little over three after finding it was easier to represent and present the team in a brighter light when you knew more about them. it was after you moved in that you got much closer to james ‘bucky’ barnes, who you’ve coined the nickname of ‘jamie’ for. your friends also began to question why you hadn’t, in their terms, “banged,” one of the avengers you happened to live with.

truth be told, you did enjoy spending time with them, especially bucky. but, that would be crossing a line. you were practically employed by them. well, technically you were employed by tony, but that didn’t change the fact that they were your clients. it was just particularly easy to find the good in the people who constantly saved the world. well, that, and you were supposed to make them look good anyway. 

the most difficult one to paint in the golden light was definitely bucky. you were great at getting the media to lean into his humanity and reminding them of how he had been tortured into what he became. you’ve imagined him to the public as “sargeant bucky barnes,” giving him back the title he earned rather than the name he was branded. he was still wary of venturing into the eye of the public, but everytime he did there were less people yelling at him and more people giving pitying looks and whispers. sure, he would rather not be recognized at all, but whispering was a hell of a long way from harassment. 

bucky was grateful for everything you’d done for him. truth be told, you were grateful for everything they had done for you anyway. hell they had repeatedly saved all of humanity, helping their reputation was the least you could do for them. 

but regardless of how well of a job you’ve done making the avengers’ reputation way lighter, somehow the only thing your old friends could talk about is how you’re somehow still a virgin.

“god, i can’t believe you’re still a virgin sometimes. especially being surrounded by hunks like him,” stephanie spoke up as she flipped her bleached hair behind her shoulder. “i would’ve tried my luck long before i cleared their name, girl. i mean, that sergeant guy has the prettiest blue eyes, and have you never wondered what he could do with that metal hand of his?” 

you rolled your eyes, “he’s more than a pretty face, steph. he’s actually really sweet, too. his humor’s a bit old, kinda like a grandpa.”

“well, if he’s a grandpa then i’d gladly be his sugar baby,” she squeaked as she sipped on her vodka cranberry. 

“can we not talk about him like that?” your face furrowed in embarrassment and you only hoped that she would take your blushing as remnants of the alcohol running through your body.

“why?” she scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “do you want him or something?” she paused, seeingly waiting for your response. clearly, your silence was answer enough. “oh my god you like him, don’t you?” 

“no, no, it’s not like that,” you shook your head as you downed the rest of your drink. “i just spend a lot of time with him because of the job, y’know?” 

“why don’t you just get him to pop your precious cherry?” she ventured as she stood from her stool. 

boy, had you wished for that. mostly in your wildest dreams, but part of you hoped it could maybe happen. but then, you would wake up and were reminded of your place in the world. besides, jamie was over 100 years old. there’s no way he’d want someone who didn’t know what they were doing in the bedroom. 

“or,” steph interrupted your thoughts. “we can get out there and find you a different guy to pop your cherry,” she finished with a wink as she grabbed your hands, pulling you from your seat and to the dance floor. 

you managed to sneak a glance at the clock before the crowd surrounding you made it more difficult, reading the time being 11 pm. you told the guys you’d be back before 1, so that gave you enough time to please stephanie and then politely excuse yourself. 

surprisingly, you had begun to enjoy yourself. the music wasn’t so bad with the surge of confidence the alcohol running through your veins gave you. after a few too many drinks, you were in your own world. finally unbothered by the nagging thoughts of your friends and the weight of your job on your shoulders. 

you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder before turning to see a sweet smile. he had big, brown eyes and shaggy hair, broad shoulders, none that compared to the men you lived with, but they were nice nonetheless. 

“hi,” he said even sweeter than his smile, keeping his hands to himself politely. “i-i’m noah.”

“well, hello, noah,” you smiled as you stepped closer to him, uncharacteristically throwing your arms around his neck as you continued to sway to the music. “y/n.”

“i-uh-you-you’re gorgeous,” he stuttered as his hands modestly found your waist.

“you really think so?” you said teasingly before leaning up to his ear. “i think you are super cute, yourself.” 

at this point, you had nearly forgotten all about stephanie’s presence at all. maybe she had already left with another guy, herself? who knows. right now, all you knew was that you didn’t know brown eyes could be so pretty. mayb you didn’t want to wait anymore. maybe you didn’t want to be the old virgin in your friend group anymore. maybe noah could change that.

“you’re unreal,” he chuckled as he continued to sway with you for the next song until you began to kiss on his neck. 

“you taste so sweet,” you commented in his ear before kissing right below it. he pulled back, giving you a sweet smile before connecting your lips together. 

“you taste sweeter, believe me,” he huffed out a breath as you reconnected your lips with his. 

“i think i want you, noah,” you whispered against his lips so softly he wasn’t sure he even heard you. “pretty please?” 

“ye-yea, sure,” he guided you out of the bar, you needing nearly all of his support to even walk out of the threshold of the door. 

“think ‘m sleepy, noah,” you mumbled against his neck as the cold air hit your face, as if it had began to sober you up.

“you just said you wanted me…?” he perplexed as he pulled you aside into the ally to gather yourself. 

“‘m sorry, noah,” you shrugged as the cold air hit you again. “‘s cold outside, can i go back in?” you turned to walk back inside when he grabbed your arm, probably a bit more harsh than he intended to. 

“what the fuck?” he sounded disappointed. “i complimented you, i let you make the first move, and now you just wanna back out?” he pulled you closer to his body. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“i-i dunno, i just got confused i think?” you stumbled as you tried to back away once more. “it’s too cold out here, noah.” 

“maybe this’ll warm you up,” he grabbed your pliable face and brought you back in for a kiss before you tried to push him away again.

“y/n?” you heard a raspy voice call out. “what the fuck?” you turned to see your jamie confused.

“jamie!” you tred to wiggle out of noah’s grasp once more, a disgruntled look on your face as you did so. “jamie…” you were now limply wrestling out of noah’s grasp as he scoffed at the situation in front of him. 

“what?” he said in disbelief. “you wanna lead me on and leave with this guy?”

“noah-”

“i think you need to back of the lady, alright, man?” bucky spoke up as he stepped closer towards you. “she’s clearly a bit drunk, just let me take her home and we’ll be on our way. no harm, right?” he tried to reason with the douchebag. 

“no harm?” he grasped your arm tighter before he continued, making you wince slightly. “so this bitch is able to fucking lead me on and then leave me high and dry and there’s ‘no harm’?”

“okay, i’ve tried to be nice about this,” without a second of hesitation, he had noah’s arms behind his back, not enough to seriously injure him, but just enough to harm him enough to not tempt him to do any more harm. “you will apologize to miss y/n for talking to her the way you did, you will walk away, and you won’t do anything like that to any woman in the near future, understood?” noah nodded. “am i understood?!” 

“yes, yes!” bucky nudged him further in your direction as you were leaning your back against the brick wall for stability. “i’m sorry, y/n.”

“for…?” bucky taunted.

“i’m sorry for talking to you the way i did.”

“good boy,” bucky teased as he released the man, letting him run away and not sparing him another glance before he made his way closer to you. 

“‘m sorry, jamie,” you stumbled forward and threw your arms around him. you had never been so openly affectionate, especially with bucky since you knew his aversions. since you were so drunk, you simply didn’t register the unspoken boundaries you had unintentionally set in place for yourself. “didn’t wanna make him mad. jus’ changed my mind s’all,” you buried your face in his neck. 

“you have a right to change your mind, doll,” he soothed as he gently rubbed your back, leading you to steve’s car he borrowed. 

“y/n?” you snapped your head to look at bucky as he spoke. “i don’t want you to be so late again, doll. it’s almost 2 am. had me worried sick about ya,” his hand danced on your knee, you assumed to comfort you after the events of the night.

“i didn’t know,” you shook your head. “i swear, i just lost track of time. s’not like me to do this. i just got so mad and wanted to get it over with, y’know?”

“get what over with?”

“you won’t laugh at me?” you grabbed his hand that was resting on your knee and turned in your seat to face your body towards him. “never, doll,” he chuckled at your serious tone.

“i’m tired of bein’ a virgin,” you said with a sense of disappointment. “don’ want people makin’ fun of me anymore.”

“that’s nothing to be embarrassed about, doll,” he shook his head as he put the car in park before running to your side of the car and helping you out. “some people want to save that moment, i get it.”

“no,” you groaned as you leaned into him. “i don’t wanna save it. i was just scared at first, and then i didn’t want to, and now it’s too late because nobody wants to be with a virgin.”

“that’s not true, y/n,” he shook his ehad as he pressed your shared floor on the elevator. 

“would you wanna have sex with me?” you wondered aloud as bucky began coughing loudly. “don’t be mean,” you huffed and crossed your arms, figuring he was trying to hide his laugh. “steph said i should get you to ‘pop my cherry’ but i knew you would’t wan-”

“hey, that’s not what i meant,” he stopped your train of thought. 

“so you do wanna ‘pop my cherry’?” you awed at the man as the elevator doors opened. 

“i wan’ you to stop referencing it as ‘popping your cherry’,” he grimaced as he said it himself. 

“you wanna have sex with me? bang? do the deed? take my virginity? make love?”

“stop it,” he groaned as you giggled, leaning into his chest even more. “i wanna have this conversation when your sober, if you even remember it.”

“i’ll remember, my sweet jamie,” you held onto his arm as he walked you to your room, helping you get into bed before going into your bathroom and returning with your bin of skincare. “this is why you’re my sweet jamie,” if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. 

he began using your makeup wipes to remove the remnants of makeup that had survived the night, followed by micellar water to remove the excess remover from your face. you knew he had seen you do your skincare routine after having so many late movie nights with one another, but it was still flattering that he had remembered it all so well. he finished applying your toners, serums, and finally your moisturizer with gentle hands, his metal one providing a nice cold surface that woke your skin up a bit more. it wasn’t until you reached up to grab his flesh hand that he noticed the bruises lacing your arms. 

“god,” he sighed as he looked down at his lap. “i’m so sorry i was too late, doll.”

“you weren’t too late,” you shook your head at his negativity. “you were perfectly on time. you saved me. i don’t-i don’t know what would’ve happened had you not shown up. i-”

“i don’t wanna think about what could’ve happened, please,” he shook his head as he held onto your bruised wrist softly, tenderly rubbing his cool metal hand over the damaged skin before pressing a kiss to it. 

“will you stay with me tonight?” you asked softly, as if you were scared he would say no. as if he would ever tell you no. 

“only if you’re sure,” you nodded eagerly with a grin before he crawled into bed with you. 

bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist as you laid on his chest, breathing in his scent as his soothing heartbeat calmed you down after the nights antics. 

“i’ll remember tomorrow, jamie.”

CHAPTER 2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #marvel #james bucky barnes #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #sargeant james barnes #james buchanan barnes

[bbygirl-aemond]

alicent comes across like a massive hypocrite in how she handles dyanna. like i do understand she herself has been a victim but that just makes it worse. like the second she's greeted with another victim she just gaslights her and literally does not hold aegon accountable?

sa tw

okay i COMPLETELY understand why you feel this way. as a survivor of sa myself, that scene was really uncomfortable to watch. i'm sure i'm not the only person who noticed the parallels to rich white boys having their parents pay off their victims and continuing about their lives irl. that being said, the more i tried to think about how i wished alicent had handled things, the more i realized i couldn't think of another response that would have been better. i think this is unfortunately one of those cases where there IS no right thing to do, and you simply have to choose the lesser of two evils no matter how sick it makes you feel. there are two hugely important pieces of context to alicent's actions here:

alicent is not the person with the ultimate authority here. as episode 9 makes clear, otto and the council have more power than she does.

at this point in time, alicent thinks that the lives of ALL of her children- not just aegon- rely on her successfully using aegon to usurp rhaenyra. see my meta here for the justification of this.

so with this in mind, let's imagine what would happen if alicent wanted to hold aegon accountable.

let's say she takes dyanna's side publicly, and accuses aegon of forcing himself upon her. what happens?

remember, at this point in time, viserys is on his deathbed and is completely unable to rule. and as mentioned above, alicent isn't the one truly in power in his stead- otto is. he's the one who has the council in his pocket and who works with them behind alicent's back. so now otto's the one handling the investigation and the punishments. and do you know what otto does? he accuses dyanna of lying, possibly of being paid off by rhaenyra to slander aegon's name. here are the possible outcomes otto would demand after that point:

dyanna is executed for crimes against the royal family

dyanna is tortured as part of the investigation to get the "truth" of what happened. she is either deliberately killed or forced into a false confession and then killed

dyanna is threatened and forced to withdraw the accusations, resign, and move far away. otto would either threaten her life or her family to do this.

alicent might TRY to stop this from happening, but as episode 9 makes clear, at the end of the day she is still a woman, and otto will always have more power than her even if by title alone he should not.

but bella, you might say, why doesn't alicent have larys spirit aegon away somewhere or kill him? here's where we get into the second piece of context. aegon is THE only real alternative to rhaenyra that alicent has. she's spent over a decade, in conjunction with otto, laying the foundation for aegon in particular to become king one day, long before there's any canon evidence of him being a rapist. there are resources that have been irrevocably invested in aegon in particular: helaena, the twins, and maelor. aegon is the only one on team green with a targaryen wife and two male heirs.

because of this, aemond or daeron simply cannot hold up to the credibility presented by rhaenyra, who has a targaryen husband and many male heirs. all of team green's eggs are in one basket, aegon's, by necessity since there was only one of helaena. even if alicent remarried aemond to helaena, it would take years for them to produce heirs of their own, and that's time alicent simply does not have because at this point in time, viserys is clearly on his deathbed.

remember, alicent was an end-of-life caretaker for jaehaerys. she knows how to recognize the signs. she knows they're running out of time. if she tries to switch tracks to aemond or daeron right now, right when viserys is about to die and they need their claim to be at its strongest, it will doom team green's attempt to usurp rhaenyra, and therefore (in alicent's mind) sentence all of her children to death.

should a survivor of sexual assault sentence a fellow survivor to inevitable torture, intimidation, and/or execution? no. should a mother sentence her two youngest sons and her grandsons to death for a crime they had no part in? also no.

i don't have a good or satisfying answer here for what alicent should have done. i think that's kind of the point: she didn't either. she did what she could for dyanna, without condemning dyanna or her children to death. alicent is the ONLY explicit sa victim in hotd; and she does for dyanna what no one did for her. she hugs her, she tells her she believes her, she ensures dyanna won't have to carry and birth the rape babies alicent was forced to, she gives her a way to escape her abusive situation the way alicent was never able to. within the power that she does have, she chooses to be kind, and she chooses to spare dyanna the fate she herself suffered.

it's an awful situation, and i think it goes to illustrate just how trapped and desperate alicent is. she doesn't like aegon. she doesn't want him to be king. she can barely stand to look at him, knowing what he's done. and yet she has to push down her morals and put him on the throne anyways because her other children's lives depend on it.

unfortunately, there's a recurring theme in this fandom where people would rather hate a woman for her actions at face value, without comprehending that the real villain here is the system that has created these awful, inescapable situations. the conversation between alicent and rhaenys in episode 9, which i've talked about here, is another example of the point just flying over most people's heads. but i hold for all hotd women (yes, including rhaenyra, for all the people who assume defending alicent means i must hate rhaenyra because clearly you can't like two women at once) that the true villain behind all of their morally grey actions is pretty much always the patriarchy.

#hotd #house of the dragon #meta #hotd meta #alicent hightower #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon #aegon ii #aegon the elder #hotd episode 9

[ahsoka-its-all-of-us]

Anyone up for a little sneak peak from the next part of my Kalluzeb series? :3

Zeb, in his eternal positivity, had taken it upon himself to keep the mood light by firing a relentless onslaught of jokes and witty stories his way. Part of Alexsandr wanted to tell him to stop, that he deserved the constant reminders, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Not when Zeb’s efforts felt like a soothing balm to his tortured soul. Not when Zeb so clearly wanted him to lighten up, the way he beamed whenever he managed to get a chuckle out of the former Imperial tugging on something deep within Alexsandr that for all his eloquence he couldn’t quite articulate. “You know,” Zeb said, in a feigned airy tone that got counteracted by the way the corners of his mouth were twitching, “I accidentally stumbled upon some erotic novel about the Hutt family once.” Alexsandr blinked at him, caught off guard, whilst next to him Rex snickered. “W-what?” “You know how it was titled?” Zeb went on, face an odd mixture between perfect innocence and blatant smugness. But Alexsandr was still processing the first bit of information. “How the hell did you stumble upon that???” “I was, er… gathering intel” Zeb said smoothly. “Not important. You know what the title was.” “I’ve seen a lot of horrifying things when researching, but I can’t recall filing anything like that” Alexsandr said. “No clue.” Zeb’s grin broke through in all its glory. “Jabba the Smut.”

Yes hi I'm still alive! (sort of, considering I've been home with a raging fever for a week) As usual work has me absolutely swamped, considering I now lead a department despite being the youngest person there whoops 😅 The good news is though that my incompetent asshole boss is leaving, so my efforts have not been for nothing! I'm currently looking to partially succeeding him lmao, so don't expect my life to get any less busy in the coming years 😇 And that is even without the awesome things I'm setting up with our local orchestra

But yeah anyway, that's a short life update. I'm still here, I still wanna write, I just by gods don't know when because I have so many incredible things going on in my life that literally the only time I can find to write is when said things get to me and I pretty much drain myself so hard that I just crash for like a week whoops 😬 I do try to read everything people sent me or tag me in or update, and I really do wanna respond, but that's why I haven't always managed yet ;-;

#star wars #jenny's sneaks #kalluzeb #star wars rebels #alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios #captain rex

[aprillikesthings]

OKAY last one tonight

and it's a doozy

s5 ep5 Save the Cat

I always wonder if people get the joke in the episode title? There's a famous book about writing scripts called Save the Cat. I kind of assume at least one person in the writer's room for She-Ra has actually read it.

Also Daci got me Strawberry Oatly (vegan ice cream) hell yes

LET'S DO THIS

eek

she tells them she's alone??? hm

oh the others were clinging to the outside of the ship in space suits lol

roll intro

okay Entrapta and Bow are gonna fuck with the computers and Glimmer is gonna find Catra

god it must be weird for Glimmer to be on the ship again???

WHOOPS

okay so Adora tells Horde Prime: hey you're gonna let me leave with Catra okay?

"The Heart of Etheria. And if you don't do what I say, then I'll use it...and destroy you and your empire for good."

"You would never risk the safety of your Catra."

(Ever noticed he always says this? Your Adora. Your Catra.)

Adora: "You don't know me. And you don't know what I'm capable of." Horde Prime: "Oh...but I do." Horde Prime: "I am old, far older than you can imagine. My brothers lend me their life force, and when one vessel fails me, I simply elect another."

(Like a Time Lord but WAY creepier)

"There is something so...familiar about you, Adora."

"Not since I faced your ancestors, and crushed their once-mighty empire beneath my heel. You call them the First Ones. And you are one of them, are you not, Adora?"

AUGH

Meanwhile Entrapta thinks she's spotted her boyfriend

She's got the little chip she gave him ;_;

(maybe?)

not good!!!

ARROWED

BAHAHAH oh right that's how this guy starts. Anyway this poor clone is panicking because the jolt removed him from the hive mind

he starts SOBBING. "how will Horde Prime see my thoughts?? how will he know I am faithful???"

but then:

Entrapta: "Can you open this door?" He does Entrapta makes a happy little squeaky noise

Entrapta: "But we broke him! We're responsible for him now. Pluuuus, he can open doors!"

He says he'll take them to the server room, and Bow gives him his nickname of "Wrong Hordak" lolol

Glimmer went back to her old cell, and Catra's not there

And that's when Glimmer realizes their little earbud comms aren't working

Horde Prime: "I thought the First Ones were all gone, but clearly...some faction remains. That race of tyrants...abandoned you on a forgotten planet in a shadow dimension. They made you their weapon, their...She-Ra."

I mean, it sounds bad when you say it that way (because it is, actually)

Adora: "I don't fight for the First Ones. I fight for my home, for myself, and for my friends. Now for the last time, where is Catra?"

oh, god

augh

he's not...wrong

Horde Prime: "As she would've said, 'You are so very predictable.'"

eeughghg

AAAAAAAAAUGH

I knew this was coming, I knew it was this episode, and it still makes me want to crawl out of my own skin

SAME ADORA, SAME

NOOOOO

Horde Prime: "I have made her anew. I saw her mind...so ensnared in grief and rage and pain...and I brought her to the light."

(okay but if he saw into her mind did he see all the times Catra thought about kissing and/or having sex lol)

Adora's absolute horror here is so relatable

Adora: "Catra, you have to fight it!" Catra: "My place is with Horde Prime, Adora. I don't want to leave." Horde Prime: "Tell her what I've done for you." Catra: "Prime has given me peace. Something you could never do."

"But he has made it whole again."

"I'm happy here. You could be happy, too."

(It's genuinely hard to rewind this to get decent screenshots because hearing/seeing Catra act all weird with the chip is just SO UNCOMFORTABLE)

And there we see it--the first hint that Catra is actually being actively tortured and forced to say/do this shit like some kind of sentient puppet, having to experience her own body doing/saying these things without her permission. Her eyes even keep twitching.

Horde Prime: "I will give her to you, if...you want her... But first, you must do something for me. You...will give me She-Ra." Adora: "Never." Horde Prime: "Very well."

He snaps his fingers and everyones in-ear comms shriek with static and electricity

(okay I gotta stop just copy/pasting the script)

He squeezes poor Catra's neck and for a second her eyes go back to normal, she looks at Adora, and then they start glowing again. Adora notices!!

aaagh look at poor Catra

but yeah Adora can't bring out She-Ra on command right now (and he knew that)

UGGGH

OH SHIT THAT'S RIGHT oh god oh fuck

okay so Glimmer's in the trophy room thing and she kicks the ass of a couple of clones, that's cool

but also

"I know you're still in there. I'm not leaving without you."

Catra gets a good slice into Adora's leg

Adora: "I don't want to hurt you!"

AND I'VE HIT THE IMAGE LIMIT okay hold on

#april rewatches spop #save the cat

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

There's an art to not being overexposed and Taylor Swift has forgotten it once again. The sensibilities of the public are so fickle but I don't blame them as I myself felt a bone deep exhaustion when I saw the news of her next album on my feed. I'm not even a hater - I do enjoy parts of her music. However in between the concert tour, pap walks, her re-releases, the award campaigns and the very public romance, maybe taking a breather before entering her next era would have helped. She's on top of the world right now and I get the want to keep that going by staying front and center but she keeps forgetting how quickly the public tires of her (and anyone) who's constantly in the news cycle.

Forgotten? Did she ever master that art though? I don't think that's her strategy at all. I can already hear the counter arguments: no one says this about a man in the public eye or it's always her the problem. You know, from folks who went to the TS school of feminism. Took online classes from the one who uses a private plane like some uber. Anyway, I digress. I clearly don't like this person, never have, never will. I have her name muted on twitter and I still can't escape. I genuinely don't care to know about her music or her personal life mostly because she is simply uninteresting as an individual and singer. There is nothing in her work or her personality that would make want to pay attention. And why would I when there's so many cool and fascinating artists out there.

The public might get tired, but her die hard swifties won't and there's enough of them to buy the album and fill up the stadiums. So she rolls another album. I thought that the title was a joke though. I saw tweets covering the Grammys and I thought it was some meme. There was even one that had a photo of the Dead Poets Society. But it's not 🙃 The Tortured Poets Department, lol. Does she think or aspire to be at Joni Mitchell's level or what?

#m thoughts #i'm such a hater #i can't help myself #it is what it is

[meetinginsamarra]

Always, again

for today’s prompt “always” by @notjustamumj

thanks for tagging me @calaisreno and @lisbeth-kk 

tagging @raina-at (maybe you’ll still manage today) @totallysilvergirl  @topsyturvy-turtely

Funny thing is that for yesterday’s prompt “candlelight” I wrote a ficlet titled “Always”. Therefore, it is only fitting to write a companion piece/sequel titled “Always, again”. Part one is here. (You don’t have to read part one to understand part 2.)

-----

Always, again

So, here we are again.

In a plane of all possible locations.

My brother Sherlock and I.

He is high as a kite and looking up at me unfocused and with a moronic half smile on his face. I am calm and detached - at least on the outside – and looking at the current list of narcotics he has taken.

I raise an eye brow.

He has developed quite a tolerance in the meantime. It would be impressive were it not that he is deliberately destroying his body and also maiming his brain in the process as well. I feel like slapping him in the face to force him to realize what he has done this time. The combined drugs on this list would mean certain death via overdose for everybody else.

It is not Sherlock’s first overdose. There have been three in his addicted past but, as far as he himself convincingly claims nowadays, they all have been unintentional and accidental.

This one clearly is not.

This one he has planned a long time before he has even set his foot on the plane.

I am afraid that this is exactly what he had intended to happen to himself, though. Deliberate suicide. Possibly delayed long enough so that the cardiac arrest would have happened when the plane was high in the air. Too far away to reach any sort of emergency personnel. Or breathing arrest. Whatever would have set in first.

Thankfully Moriarty’s scheme intervened just in time to have the plane return to the runway mere minutes after taking off. Miss Me. Well, I would never have thought that I would feel grateful for him to return. Like I do now. I will wonder how he managed this trick later. There are more pressing things to ponder right now.

Such as…

Did Sherlock actually believe I am cold-hearted enough to only grant him a choice between lifelong imprisonment or certain death while working undercover as an agent?

He has always been less smart than me, of course.

But after I have invaded Serbia for him, did actual legwork which I abhor, after all the strings he knows I had to pull to rescue him from being flailed alive to death in this vile torture cell? He still thought I would do this to him? So that he chose death before death could choose him?

Astonishingly, I feel that I am hurt. After all this time, when now was the least appropiate time I would have needed him to believe as much, of all things he now chose to believe that I have never cared about him.

As if I would not have had contingency plans for his mission in Eastern Europe and meanwhile his exonaration in England.

So.

Yes.

It is decided.

Now it is the right time, now it is high time because maybe it is the last time I have the possibility. To finally state what he means to me. Make it absolutely clear that he understands what I say.

I have already tried to do so at Christmas before he has drugged us all and has gone dragon slaying in Appledore. Your loss would break my heart I have said, how could he have misunderstood?

My dear baby brother, I have protected you all my life, if you wanted to or not. If you realized. If you hated me for it. Though that last one is not an “if” actually.

I have been so close to losing you again.

I fold the list and put it away into my notebook.

I will say it now. Look him into the eyes and let him deduce my soul. I suppose he will be surprised what he will find there. Not knowing what to do with them. My feelings. Most likely he will resort to insult or ignore me anyway.

I take a deep breath and brace myself for Sherlock’s inevitable derision, relieved and afraid at the same time to finally say it out loud.

“I was there for you before. I’ll be there for you again. I’ll always be there for you.”

#my Sherlock ficlets #notjustamumj #always

[tarabyte3]

The Devil Makes Us Sin

Fandom: Luther, Luther: The Fallen Sun

Pairing: David Robey/F!Reader

Chapter 1/? (5.2k words)

Chapter 2 ->

AO3 Link

Summary: Your life isn't perfect, and you don't enjoy moonlighting as a camgirl for so many repulsive men, but you need the money and it's yours. You're getting by just fine. You're content.

At least you thought you were. Then you get a strange text message. And you aren't sure if you're horrified or intrigued.

Warnings: Explicit rating, smut, stalking, spying, blackmail, manipulation, dubcon, dubious consent, Dom/sub, sadism, masochism, unprotected sex, oral sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, choking, dirty talk, praise, humiliation, possessive love, yandere, minor description of gore, minor description of violence, murder, discussion of murder, shame involving sex work, light shaming of sex work, emotionally abusive mother, troubled mother/daughter relationship

A/N: Work title is from "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack. Chapter title is from the poem "Saint Joan" by Louise Glück, The Seven Ages

(There's a more indepth note below the cut)

A/N pt 2: I know those warnings seem like a lot! I try to tag everything, no matter how small, because I want to make sure no one is blindsided by anything in my fics.

But remember, David Robey is not a good man. He's a murderous psychopath, he's cruel, and he feels no remorse (though I do REALLY flex the boundaries of all that because this is fantasy and fanfiction after all.) This reader character is also NOT a good person, just to a lesser extent than he is. Therefore this is going to get quite dark on occasion. Though if you're here because you want David Robey smut, I suspect you're well aware of what you're in for. Still! Heed all tags and warnings. I will continue to expand them as they come up in the story and try to point them out as I add them, but always check the end of the list for anything new.

If you're worried, know that I have personal boundaries I will not cross in my fics. No gratuitous descriptions of violence, murder, gore, or torture in my smut fics unless specifically and clearly warned. No noncon or SA. No physical or domestic abuse. And though it is a smut fic about a fictional serial killer, any mental or emotional manipulation will be in line with what exists in canon, so no wild cards there either.

Pregnancy scares, worrying about or fear of getting pregnant, taking steps to avoid pregnancy through the use of contraception or other means, or having my reader character get pregnant—all as the result of unprotected sex between the characters—will also never come up in anything I write. They won't even think about it. I want my fics to be a fun escape for myself and for you all so I say no thank you.

Finally, there is some shame from the main character and problematic language used about sex work in this and I want to be clear: We respect sex workers in this house 👏😤 Sex work is work. Anything that suggests otherwise in this fic is because the characters are assholes.

Chapter 1 - I heard a dark prediction rising in my own body

You're always very careful not to show your face on camera. It's not what's for sale. Certainly not for fifteen pounds per monthly subscription. These men watching aren't paying you enough to risk your career.

Or worse, to risk your mother finding out.

She's always harping on you to settle down, get married, and have children. You don't have the stomach to tell her how absolutely horrible all of that sounds. Most men bore you with their undeserved egos, horrible ties, and inane chatter about sports clubs. Or the way they smother the spark that drew them to you in the first place because afterwards they want a good little wife instead. And you definitely don't want children.

So no, you don't want to marry any of them. Instead you'll gladly take advantage of their desperation to escape their dull lives and their tired, jaded spouses. Likely women who thought marriage would be different, only to find out what you already know: most men can never give you what you truly need.

Now you've been doing this for over a year. For an hour a night, you sit in front of your webcam in low cut blouses and secretary skirts and undress down to your lingerie and panties. You run your fingers between your breasts and whisper lies into your microphone.

At first it was out of desperation.

Your flatmate had moved out with little warning and left you scrambling to make rent. Your job didn't pay enough for you to afford the entire sum by yourself until you found someone else to take her place. Sure, you could have moved or downsized, but you didn't want to. The location was perfect and to get the same rate, you'd have to move further to the edge of the city. Your morning commute would be longer, and you didn't want to spend so much time on the tube with the smell of sweat, crying babies, and creeps brushing up against you.

It was a pop-up ad that gave you the idea. "Live women on camera. Watch now! Get your first month at a reduced rate!" It declared over a scantily clad young woman who was pushing her cleavage together with her arms and fluttering her eyelashes.

If only it were that easy, you had scoffed.

Then you opened your laptop and did some research. Because what if it was? Which is how you ended up making an account on a smaller camgirl website and sitting uncomfortably with your webcam pointed at your torso and nothing but a white wall behind you.

After a few days of no activity, you unbuttoned your blouse a bit, wore a push-up bra, and finally got your first viewer. So you unbuttoned it further and further, and, as your numbers rose, your top came off completely.

You learned to tease them after that.

And degrade them.

"BigDaddy47 wants to know if I'm wearing panties. Mmm, what do you all think? Should I take off my skirt and let you find out? If you were all very good, I could show you what's underneath, but you don't deserve it, do you? I know how filthy you all are, asking me to take my clothes off. You disgust me."

Oh, but then you apologize and beg for forgiveness for being so mean to those poor, overworked men that no one else appreciates while bashfully covering your body with your hands and telling them you're just a little shy. That's what really boosted your numbers. They ate it up. Because more than seeing a pair of tits, they love being told exactly what they want to hear. And they especially love believing it.

That's why they're really there. To forget. To pretend.

You made enough extra money to keep your flat. Barely at first, and it completely wiped your savings, but with each new paycheck there was more leftover. Eventually you also bought better lingerie. More strappy numbers to hide under your office girl persona. More ways to hint at your bare breasts without showing them. Because you will never get naked on camera. Ever. The thought of all those men seeing your full body repulses you. They repulse you. That part, at least, is never a lie.

Then the empty second bedroom became your recording studio. You put a feminine, silky comforter and fancy pillows on the bed so you could pose in different, carefully pre-selected positions. You draped a blanket over the back of the chair so you could cover yourself while you pretended to be shy and repentant, and they all begged you to take it back off.

It was almost too easy. It took less than seven months for your stream to be featured on the front page of the site as a hot new account, and another two for you to make the top fifty. Now you're making as much in seven hours of streaming a week as you do in a week and a half of full-time work at your day job. And you keep nudging your way closer to the top twenty.

So you could say things are going well.

At least, they were.

The first time you got a strange text message from a number you didn't recognize, you shrugged it off. All it said was: How are you doing? Which could be anything. A wrong number, a phishing attempt, or an old friend you deleted the contact information for ages ago. Of course you ignored it.

But a few days later you got another one from the same number.

You don't want to chat?

That one had made you a little uncomfortable, but you could still tell yourself it was a mistake. Maybe even a guy you gave your number to for a hookup during a rare night out that you never followed through on. You set your phone down, went about your day, and managed to forget about it quickly.

Then today it buzzs again.

You're not even this shy on camera.

As you read it—and reread it to be sure you're not seeing things—your heart leaps to your throat with your first rush of fear. How had they gotten your number? You never entered a phone number into the website. You've been so careful. You even set up a separate bank account.

"Who is this?" You finally text back.

A fan.

You quickly fumble with your phone to block them, but a new message appears on the screen before your trembling thumbs can manage to tap the correct buttons.

I wouldn't do that.

And then there's a video.

You hesitate.

You know you should just block them anyway, but something about the blurry still of the preview seems familiar. Naggingly familiar. So you tap play.

There's a figure standing right in front of the camera. They're so close, all you can see at first is a plain black shirt and a bare arm. Then they move away, further into the room. It's your spare room, you quickly realize with horror. You can see the familiar layout and the blush colored comforter on the bed. After a few more seconds, you also realize the person in the video is you. You're folding the blanket you use during your stream and setting it on the chair. Except it wasn't taken from your stream because there's daylight coming through the lacy drapes covering the window. You only stream at night. And your face is visible as you bend over to pick up a pillow from the floor.

It's you in your pajamas, tidying up the room the morning after a stream. When your camera isn't supposed to be on. When you aren't being careful.

You feel sick.

Now would you like to chat?

"What do you want?" You type out with shaking hands.

I want a private show.

"If you don't stop harassing me, I'll call the police."

Now now. No need for that.

Because if you do, I'll have to send a few videos to your mum. This is her contact information, isn't it?

Then you're staring down at your mother's phone number and home address. You let out a sob.

"Why are you doing this?"

I told you. I want a private show.

"I don't have a private stream."

Your phone buzzes with another notification, but this time for a new email. In your personal inbox.

You have fifteen minutes.

You reluctantly open the message. It's an invite with a link to a private chat room.

Wear the black nightie with the same bra and panties you wore two nights ago.

You don't respond. Instead you throw your phone down onto the couch and you pace.

What do you do? Do you block the number and call the police anyway? Do you call your mother and tell her not to check her messages or answer the door? But then she'll ask why. And what do you tell her? That you have a stalker? That they're threatening her, too? God, she's so stubborn and nosey! She'd look at her phone anyway to tell them off and then it'll be over. She'll see. You were raised Catholic! She'll disown you.

You stop pacing.

Would that be such a terrible thing? You're very much an adult. You're not dependent on her for anything. You have every right to do what you want. It's not like you're doing anything that bad! Not really. You're just trying to survive! If she can't handle that, then that's her problem. You're doing just fine. You can live without her nagging and berating you all the time. Making you feel small or as though you're wasting your life by not doing what she expects. Asking you, "What will people think?" after everything you do. Plus, it's her religion, not yours. It stopped being yours when you were very young, even though the guilt still rears its ugly head every once in a while. Usually because of her forcing it on you. No more.

With renewed determination, you pick your phone back up and go to block the number.

The buzzing of a new message startles you.

Did I mention that I also have the contact information for your boss and the passwords to all of your social media accounts?

Fuck.

Ten minutes left.

You start to cry. Because you feel truly helpless now. You think for a brief moment that maybe this person is bluffing. Surely he's just counting on you to obey immediately and doesn't plan on doing anything. But he filmed you without your knowledge and he had your mother's personal information. Finding where you work would be even easier than that. Plus, are you willing to risk your whole life and your career to find out?

No, you realize. You aren't.

With tears streaming down your face, you run to your bedroom. You have to upend your hamper to find the specific bra and panties he requested since you hadn't washed them yet, but you manage to get changed faster than you ever have before.

Are you supposed to put on make-up? He didn't say. You check your phone for the time. Four minutes. And you still have to boot up your laptop. So you grab your eyeliner and a tinted lip gloss off of your vanity and sprint towards the other bedroom.

While your computer is starting, you use your reflection in the screen to hastily put on the eyeliner. It probably looks horrible and uneven thanks to your puffy eyelids and lack of mirror, but if he wanted something better, then he should have been more specific or given you more time. Or not harassed you at all. So fuck him.

You click over to your inbox with one hand and dab the rouge color onto your lips with the other. Then you're staring at the link with a minute left. No use stalling, you think. It won't make this go away.

You take a deep breath and click it.

The chat window pops up and then, after a brief second of loading while your heart pounds in your chest, your own scantily clad breasts and lace covered torso are displayed onto the screen. In the corner, there's a black square icon. Both the video and audio indicators have Xs through them.

He's here, then. Of course he is.

There's a chat window along the side, and, as you're looking at it, a message pops up from the username YourBiggestFan.

Fix your camera. There's no reason to hide your face any longer. Not from me.

You swallow and reach forward to tilt the camera a little higher. The video is shaky for a moment, and then you're staring at your own image on the screen. Your full image. It's unnerving.

There's your lovely face.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Your voice waivers. "There are millions of women on the internet. Thousands that do what I do."

They aren't you.

"I'm not that special."

You don't do nudity on your stream. Why is that?

"Because…" You hesitate. You really don't want to talk to this man, but not doing so feels risky, too. He does have all the power here, after all. "Because I don't need to."

You would make more money if you did. Or if you moved to a better site.

"I'm getting by just fine." You glance up to glare into the camera.

You could quit your job.

"I don't want to quit my job."

You want to be a glorified secretary for the rest of your life?

"Fuck you," you hiss. 

Answer the question.

"Of course I don't! But I don't want hundreds of men seeing my tits every night, either! So if that's the trade off, I'd rather keep being a glorified secretary, as you so kindly put it." You start to roll your eyes, but stop yourself from reacting this time. You may already be pushing your luck as it is and there's no need to piss him off. "I don't do either of them because I enjoy it. I do what I have to so I don't have to worry about money."

You certainly seem like you're enjoying yourself every night.

"It's called pretending," you sigh irritably. "Surely you've heard of it. Do you think all of those men would tune in otherwise? Tell me, would you? You're one of them, after all."

I'm not one of them.

"Aren't you? Mr. Your Biggest Fan," you scoff. "Sure you aren't."

No. Because I see you.

"That is rather the point."

You're very clever. You know exactly how to manipulate all of them into staying without giving them what they want.

"I have to be. All of the women that do this learn how to keep the audience interested."

But yours comes from a place of hatred.

You blink in mild surprise, but quickly school your features. You don't want him to know he's caught you off guard.

Your stream is the only one in the top 50 that doesn't show their face and the top 100 that doesn't include nudity. Did you know that?

You shift in your seat. "I…I didn't, actually. I knew I was the only one with my numbers, but not that many."

You're an anomaly.

"I'm good at my job," you correct him.

Yes, you are. You know how to manipulate all of them because you find them rather predictable, don't you? Predictable. Pathetic. Dull. Beneath you. They make it easy for you.

You aren't able to hide the shock on your face this time as you stare at the chat. He doesn't wait for you to respond.

You don't take your underwear off because you and I both know that's beneath you, too. And you're right, you don't have to. It's quite impressive.

"Is that so?" You don't sound as dismissive as you hoped.

I told you. I see you. And you intrigue me.

"Fine, you can see through my bullshit. And?" You cross your arms. "Am I supposed to be impressed? What's the point of all this?"

I wanted you to show me the real you.

"And me angry at you is the real me, is it?"

Yes. Because you aren't lying to me.

He has a point there. This is arguably the most honest you've ever been sitting in this chair. Sure, you're being guarded considering the circumstances, but otherwise you haven't lied to him.

Tell me, have I gotten anything wrong?

You bite at your lip as you consider whether or not to continue being honest. But if you change tactics now, he'll sense it. You know, instinctively, that he will. Because you would in his place. So you finally look into the camera and say, "No. You haven't."

More honesty. There's a good girl.

Your heart skips a beat while there's a brief flutter of interest in your stomach, and you're disgusted with yourself for your body's reaction to that. He's a creep just like the rest of them, you tell yourself. Worse because at least the rest of them are harmless. To you, anyway.

He doesn't type anything else and his silence feels almost smug. Like he knows exactly the inner turmoil he's caused you and he wants you to stew in it. The flutter spreads lower.

"Now it's your turn to tell me how you guessed at any of that since I don't even show my face," you blurt out, desperate to think of anything else and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of thinking he's won somehow.

It wasn't a guess. I can hear the difference in your voice. The only time you mean what you say is when you berate them.

You think back to all the times you've snarled into the microphone and called them despicable. Disgusting. Useless. The one slip in your act.

You enjoy it. You enjoy getting to tell them exactly what you think of them while you take their money. You enjoy it so much, you have to stop yourself from pushing it one step further. But you want to. I can hear how much you want to. It feels good, doesn't it? To not have to hide, even for a moment. To treat them the way they deserve.

"Yes," you breathe out before you can stop yourself. Because it does. It feels incredible. The fluttering between your legs has grown into a slick heat now from his words alone.

How could he know that, though? How could he know that you've dreamed of telling them their only worth to you was their wallets because there at least they had a use. That having to read every horrible thing they said through the veil of anonymity made your skin crawl. That they're the reason their own lives are so miserable. Sexless bedrooms. Loveless marriages. Endless failed relationships. The inability to find someone to look twice at them. And you're glad they came slithering to you rather than have the self-awareness or brain cells to look in a goddamned mirror. Pathetic.

You've never even admitted that out loud to yourself. Only in your darkest thoughts. Now this man is typing out those inner thoughts as though they were written plainly on your face.

"You enjoy it."

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

Like he understands.

You both sit in silence for a minute that stretches out for far too long while you read his message over and over again, until your sex starts to ache.

You should feel ashamed, you realize. This is the moment you should feel horrible for thinking those things. And for being turned on by the way he told you that you enjoyed it. Only you don't.

"I don't know what you expect me to say," you whisper.

You've said enough. That was all I needed.

He knows, you think. You've given this man too much. "So what now? You still haven't said where all of this goes."

Yes I have.

"Right. A private show. How could I forget?" You mean for it to sound sarcastic, but it comes out confused because you're a little dazed from all of this. "You really still want me to flutter my eyelashes at you, push my cleavage at the camera, and say some insipid bullshit, even though it's all lies?"

No. I want to see ALL of you.

Your face flushes in embarrassment and anger, and you have to squeeze your thighs together to quell the want that is continuing to build in your core. "You're blackmailing me just to see my tits?"

You're going to talk to me as well.

"And say what?"

More of how you really feel. I want to hear more of the truth from your lips. As I said, I want to see all of you.

"Well, right now I'm feeling quite pissed off."

And as you're talking, you're going to touch yourself for me.

There's a swell of panic in your chest and it's as though you've been dunked in ice water because you've gone from hot to bone chilled. "Fuck you. I'm not doing that."

Why not?

"Because it's a violation! I'm not consenting to any of this. You're not giving me a choice."

You have a choice.

"Oh, choosing between masturbating on camera for you or you ruining my life? My mistake! Nothing dubious about that."

You're beautiful when you're angry.

You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to stop yourself from throwing your laptop across the room. You will still need it after this, after all.

When you open your eyes, you look up into the camera with a serious, pleading expression on your face. "I don't want to do that. Please don't make me. I'll get undressed for you. I'll let you see all of me. But don't make me do that."

You shift your attention to watch the text box. There's a pause.

A long pause.

You start to think maybe you've finally angered him by saying no and he's in the process of messaging your mom and your boss. Just when you begin nervously shifting in your seat, a new message pops up.

What if you wanted to touch yourself for me? Then would you?

You stare at the message in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Answer the question.

"If I wanted to, then…" You hesitate as you consider how to tell the truth. "I guess, yes I would. But that's different. I don't want to."

You don't want to yet.

"So you won't make me?"

No. I won't make you.

You exhale in relief. "Thank you," you whimper.

But I will make you want to touch yourself for me, that I promise.

"I highly doubt that. You've given me plenty of reasons to want literally anything else, the most important of which is that I'm still here because you're blackmailing me."

There is that.

I could delete all of it. If you ask nicely.

You furrow your brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

I could delete it. Then there would be nothing forcing you to stay.

"And I'm supposed to just trust you?"

Yes.

You scoff. "Yeah, right. Besides, if you delete it, I'll just leave."

And go back to lying on camera?

"Surprisingly, I do still have to pay my rent after this."

What if you didn't have to?

"Didn't have to pay rent?"

No. Go back on camera or back to that laughable firm you work for. What if you didn't need the money?

"I already said I'm not doing either of those things because I enjoy them. Of course I wouldn't go back if I didn't have to."

Check your bank account.

The OTHER bank account.

You sit there and stare at your screen in horror. Because you've only just now realized that, in your panic, you'd been thinking too small before. You were worried about phone numbers and addresses. Such little things to keep you distracted and focused so you didn't have clarity of mind to stop to wonder at what else he could find and hold hostage.

"Why?" You whisper.

Just look. No reason to be afraid.

You frantically pick up your phone and swipe until you find the banking app. The last time you checked, you had over eight thousand pounds in that account after paying rent. Nothing extravagant. But it's reassuring knowing the savings is there if you need it. That you're relatively safe and comfortable. Because it's yours. You earned it.

The balance reads £308,218.72.

Three hundred thousand pounds more than should be in there. It's more money than you've ever seen in your life. It's more than you could ever hope to have at one time in your life.

"What is this?" Your voice sounds small from the shock.

A gift.

"I can't accept this." You look up into the camera. "I won't accept this."

Why not?

"Because I'm not a whore!" You snap at the lense. "And I refuse to be beholden to you. I won't let you own me."

No strings. You can take the money and run if you like. But we both know you're not going to.

"Won't I?"

No.

"And why not? Are you going to say something ridiculous like, 'There's more where that came from?'"

No.

"Why then?"

Because whatever you run off to do will bore you just as much as what you're doing now since the money doesn't change what's making you miserable. But you're starting to understand that I could offer you so much more. And I don't mean the money.

You clench your jaw in frustration and rage. You want to yell. To protest and deny it. You wish you could. But deep down you know he's right. Your world has been upended and laid bare in the span of, what, half an hour? From the moment he forced his way into your life, it has been many things, but boring is not one of them. Because, you realize, he does see you.

"I still…" you start helplessly. "I don't understand."

I told you. You intrigue me. No one intrigues me.

"For some reason that doesn't feel like a compliment."

I know I intrigue you, now, too.

"What do you really want from me?" You say quietly. "I know this isn't about getting a private show. It never was, was it?"

You.

I want you.

"Then why the money?"

I don't want you distracted.

You know nothing about this man. You don't know what he looks like and you can't hear his voice. But there's something about the way he referred to your entire life as a distraction that sends a shiver of fear up your spine. And something else rekindling inside of you that you now refuse to acknowledge.

"So I'm not giving you a show."

Oh, you'll give me one. Eventually. And I'm going to enjoy myself knowing I'm the only one who's ever seen you like that.

"How do you know I've never stripped on camera for anyone else before?"

It's beneath you. Because there's never been anyone on the other end deserving of it.

"You think you are?"

Am I?

"You seem like the kind of man that thinks he is."

That's not an answer.

You mentally curse because he's so damn perceptive. Your usual tactics don't work on him and that throws you off balance.

Am I?

"I don't know yet," you finally admit.

You really are so beautiful without the mask. Honesty suits you much more than the lie.

"My honesty suits you, you mean."

I'll never deny that I'm enjoying it. But you deserve to know that what's underneath isn't hideous like you fear. You can always take it off in front of me.

"And you'll enjoy it whenever I do," you murmur, almost entranced by the thought.

I will. Immensely.

"How do I know you're not just some creepy slob in a basement somewhere that's really good at hacking?"

You would have seen through me if I were.

He's right. Something about him seems sophisticated, but effortlessly so. Too effortless to be an act. Which leaves, what, bored rich guy? Well, at least you have one thing in common.

"Who are you then? And don't just say a fan. The only way you'll get me to even consider not running the second I close this window is by giving me something that isn't money or text on a screen."

I'm a man that knows what it's like to live with the mask. How do you think I saw through yours? I also know how good it feels to take it off. But even better than that is to be seen and embraced for what's underneath.

Does that satisfy you?

"Not nearly enough."

You'll learn more next time. The link will stay active. When you come back here, I'll know.

"When," you huff in disbelief under your breath.

When.

"We'll see, won't we?"

Before I go, is there something you're forgetting? Something to ask me maybe?

"Something to ask…?" You trail off in thought because you have no idea what he's talking about. But as you replay parts of the conversation in your head, you remember that he said he would delete everything if you asked. Nicely.

You clench your fists and take a deep breath to prepare yourself. Because you know he added the "nicely" specifically to see you squirm and you refuse to give it to him. Then you look up into the webcam, and, with all the sincerity you can muster, you ask. Nicely.

"Please delete it. All of it. I want you to. I won't promise you anything in return because I don't know if I'll come back, and I won't lie to you or myself with a false promise. But it would prove to me that you mean what you say. That you want me. Because if you have all of that to hold over me, if I can't make this choice on my own, you'll never truly have me, will you? There will always be parts of myself that I keep back and I'll never look at you or talk to you as a man. Only as my captor. So please, I am begging you. Delete it."

You look down to the text box and wait.

His video comes to life then, surprising you and splitting the screen in half. But what's there isn't his face. It's a computer screen with a desktop so basic, it almost looks unused. There's also an open folder, and it's full of video, image, and text files—far more of them than you would have guessed. He's been observing you for a while and you had no idea he was there. You can see your own face and your lingerie in a couple of the video and photo thumbnails. Then you watch as he highlights all of it and, without fanfare or hesitation, deletes it. The folder—which you now realize is titled after you—sits empty.

You open your mouth to protest because you aren't an idiot, but as though he anticipated that, he shifts over to the trash can and empties that as well.

It's done.

"How do I know there aren't backups?"

I guess you'll just have to trust me, won't you?

Then he leaves the chat and you're left staring at your own face on the screen.

Before you close the window, you have to wonder if you aren't truly seeing yourself for the very first time.

Chapter 2 ->

A/N: I hope you enjoyed and are now properly buckled in for this trainwreck of a gratuitously smutty and fucked up romance. Please keep your arms inside the vehicle at all times because I have already lost complete control of this. But I promise it's gonna be a lot of fun. 😌😏

#david robey #david robey x reader #david robey x f!reader #the devil makes us sin fic #luther the fallen sun #luther the fallen sun fanfiction #luther #luther fanfiction #fanfiction #andy serkis #x reader

[roomwithanopenfire]

Okay, this is for @sweetronancer who asked me about my Thoughts about the 8th chapter of my ronance fanfic! But like it's actually for me and percy just gave me an excuse to talk about it.

So like spoilers for the 8th chapter of my ronance fic or whatever lolll

Okay so each chapter of my fic is based on a song from the Taylor Swift album Midnights, and the eighth song/chapter is Vigilante Shit and this was one of the songs were I knew it won't fit the fic perfectly (unlike Lavender Haze, Maroon, YOYOK, and Karma do for example) it was going to be one where I pick a couple lines that I like and kind twist them to fit.

My original idea was for the chapter to be a little more heist-esque but that didn't quite work out, and it became what it is now.

So the line I really focused on (which is the title of the chapter) is "sharp enough to kill a man", but again, at this point in the fic, the songs are just inspiration and I don't restrict myself to them in any way lol

So Nancy and Robin go on a little road trip! This part was just fun.

But Nancy at this point knows that Robin likes her. Nancy is smart and she knows that Robin's hinting at, she's knows that she just needs to talk to Robin. But she's scared. She doesn't know what it means to date a girl, she doesn't know what it really means to date someone.

So then we get to the part where Robin sees the Russian security guard and recognizes him as one of the Russians who tortured her and Steve.

Now, while writing this i could see so clearly, the like movie scene of it all.

At first there's like happy background music, bright colors, Nancy is smiling pointing at the art, but turns to see that Robin is frozen.

When Robin asks if she would kill someone like that, the background noise is gone. Camera zoomed in. All that's in focus is Robin and Nancy and the guard. All we can hear is Robin and Nancy words and the heaviness of their breath.

The second Robin shakes her head and says they shouldn't, the bubble breaks, camera cuts to a wide shot and we can hear the background noise and music again.

It's just like a very tense moment.

And then the confession in the elevator!!!!! I literally can't get over that. Nancy Wheeler, who cares for Robin so much that she would literally murder for her (she would do it! she really would), but she's too scared to tell her that she loves her! But she does it anyway! She tells Robin!!

I just— something about the "I would kill for you" meaning "I love you" is just so precious to me. And actually the first time I wrote Nancy's dialogue for that scene in a snapchat to my friend (who knows nothing about Ronance, but knows I write fanfic and at least pretends to be interested) because I told her that they were going to heavily consider murder but that it was going to be romantic and she asked me how.

and she told me it was good so yeah

But yeah that's basically it I think! if you have a question about anything else about this chapter or another one i promise you i probs have something to say

sorry percy this is really long <3

#lily rambles #like this is a RAMBLE #i did not proofread this at all #but like!! #it was fun!! #thanks percy for letting me ramble for you <3 #now i actually have more homework to do #because i decided this was more fun than doing notes :( #ronance #no sweeter drug #percy friend

[reidgraygubler]

forbidden fruit (luke alvez/fem!reader

Title: forbidden fruit Couple: Luke Alvez/Fem!reader Category: smut/angst Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (oral (male/fem), throatfucking penetration, corruption kink, priest kink, choking/breathplay, multiple orgasms), making out in a confessional, churches/catholicism/religious themes, drinking, priest AU, Fleabag AU, Luke’s POV  Word Count: 6007 Summary: Luke becomes a priest to help forgive his past sins and fight his temptations with the devil. A/N: this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins writing challenge: Forbidden love. Loosely based on the show Fleabag! This does contain a heavy amount of religion and stuff pertaining to that! thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

I thought I’d be good and safe. Everything that happened with Spencer, Emily, and Mister Scratch, I needed a change of lifestyle. I needed to get out of working with the FBI and escape my past life with the Army. So that’s what I did. Once the dust had settled with Mister Scratch, I quit. I left everything behind and moved on. I found a new sense of self. 

I moved to Florida and became a teacher for a time. But none of that felt right. After my brief teaching stint, I came across a small parish in need of a new priest. Never, ever, in a million years did I ever think I’d be going back to church. But I could hear my grandmother’s voice in the back of my head, torturing me till I attended a couple of services. After befriending a couple of the attendees, I was surprisingly asked to be their new priest.  The local bishop had insisted that with my upbringing in the church, I would be the perfect fit for the job. And a few weeks later I was moving into their parsonage with Roxy. 

With my new life ahead of me, I tried to forget about my, what seemed like, unforgivable past and tried to keep my new life devoted to the people of my church and to God. I wanted to fix my life and try making it a bit more forgivable. And in doing that, I met her.

Several months after becoming the priest, a woman who appeared to be very distressed started attending the church. The first week she started attending, I knew something was wrong. Her make-up smudged under her eyes, almost as if she’d been crying. The distraught look resting on her face told me something was very wrong. Everything about her was mystifying. The first moment I laid my eyes on her, I knew I wanted to know her more.

I wanted to make it a point to introduce myself to her, but by the time I had stepped away from the pulpit and away from the stage, she was gone. Several members of the congregation did stop me to talk about a point I’d made in my sermon, or about the flower beds by my parsonage, or they had a question about a silly potluck coming up. My shoulders fell slightly when I noticed she had left.

The following weeks, same thing happened. Everytime I went to introduce myself to her, she was gone before I even stepped off the platform.  So I stopped putting in the effort. That was probably a little wrong of me. I just assumed that she didn’t want to be talked to, hence why she left the moment I mumbled the word Amen. 

That’s why I was surprised when she came to the church one random Wednesday afternoon. I was outside, tending to the flowers while Roxy was playing with one of the local kids. The distressed woman came up beside me, looking down at me with a small smile. But I could see it in her eyes that she was still worried about something. 

“Hello,” she whispered, her eyes staying on mine. “You must be Father Luke Alvez?” she asked as she lowered to meet me at my height. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“You would be correct,” I replied and offered her my hand to shake. It took me a brief moment before I realized my hand was covered in dirt. I nervously chuckled before brushing it clean.

“I’m, uh, Y/N Y/L/N. I used to attend here when I was little but, uh… Yeah,” she tried to explain but was clearly having a hard time. I swallowed roughly and nodded. That’s okay. She didn’t need to tell me anything about what happened unless she was ready or wanted to. I get it. People fall out of churches all the time. I mean, I couldn’t tell you the last time I attended any church before this one.

“Here, let’s go inside for a drink. It’s quite warm out here,” I offered as I stood upright. I looked down at the woman, taking in how she belonged on the ground, on her knees, in front of me.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

“Yeah, a drink would be nice,” she said, watching as I offered her my hand again. She stared at it for a moment before resting her hand in mine. Her hesitance was admirable, to be honest. She had nothing to fear, but her need to err on the side of caution was understandable. Maybe I needed that little bit of fear in me too. You’ll never know who can and can’t be trusted.

 Her hand seemed so much smaller compared to mine. I wanted to slip it into my pocket for safekeeping. But I probably shouldn’t be thinking about her like that, or in any way for that fact. 

“My office. Please, feel free and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back with drinks,” I said as I pushed the door to my office open. She looked at me for a moment before stepping into the room. Once she was in, and the door was pulled shut, I slipped away and quickly went to the kitchen. As for drinks, we didn’t have a huge selection. There was water, hot chocolate, coffee, and tea. The energy she gave me was not coffee or hot chocolate energy. She needed something calming and soothing. Tea. I thought as I continued to the kitchen.

Time seemingly hastened, because 3 minutes after I put a kettle on the stove, it was ready and I was standing behind my office door. With one final breath, I pushed the door open and re-entered my office. She was sitting in one of the armchairs by my desk, her head low as she waited for me.

“Sorry about the wait, I was boiling water,” I explained as I walked towards my desk. She stayed silent, watching as I placed a tray on my desktop. She looked at me and nodded.

“That’s okay,” she whispered, watching as I rifled through the boxes of tea. Apparently, I just grabbed whatever. And whatever was plum tea.

“Let’s see… It would appear that we only have plum tea. Is that okay?” I asked as I held up a teabag. She looked at me with a raised brow, confused by the flavor I was offering. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had plum tea,” she said, watching as I tore one bag open and put it into a cup. 

“It’s one of my favorites. After I left the FBI, I gave up caffeine, and while teaching… It was… difficult, to say the least,” I nervously chuckled as I pushed her teacup closer to her. She looked down at the cup, then up at me, and then back at the cup. “One student suggested tea. So I conversed with a former co-worker of mine from the FBI. She was something of a tea connoisseur, so she suggested plum tea,” I laughed again as I sat back. She raised an eyebrow and looked right at me.

“You worked for the FBI?” 

“For a couple of years. It was brief. I was in the army for a time too. But I was getting exhausted from all the violence and wrath. So I stepped away. I was a college professor for 4 years, and… Well, here I am. Trying to repent and gain forgiveness for sins. You know, all that fun stuff. Church stuff,” I chuckled as I waved a hand. She stared at me and nodded.

She sat across from me, her hands in her lap. A rosary, which I’m assuming her grandmother had given her, was in a tight grip in her fingers. I could sense her nerves from my place behind my desk. So, I stood up and walked around my desk, leaning against the front of it.

“Are ya married?” she asked. I stared at her and laughed lightly. I held back a small chuckle. No, I’m not married. Being the priest of the church makes that sort of difficult.

“If you count married to the job and married to God, then yeah, I am. If not… Then no. I’ve had my fair share of partners though,” I explained before lifting my teacup to my lips. She stared at me and nodded. “But, we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you. You are the one who came to me, after all,” I pointed out as I placed my cup back down. Her eyes fell away from my face, going to the rosary she was playing with.

“I just needed to talk to someone… That’s all. I didn’t want to be alone and my apartment is pretty lonely,” she nervously chuckled. She fell quiet again, taking a deep breath before looking at me. “I s’pose I was just here because I didn’t know where else to turn to. We don’t even have to talk or anything. I just needed to be around another person.”

“Home feeling a little too much like Hell?” I asked with a tiny smile. She stayed silent as her eyes fell to the teacup she held.

“Yeah, yeah you could say that,” she nervously chuckled.

“I get it, totally. You are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you need. And you’re welcome here anytime,” I explained as I lifted my cup to my lips.

“Even the middle of the night?” 

“Even in the middle of the night. Chances are I’m up doing something in the building anyway. Usually listening to AC/DC, Guns and Roses, Black Sabbath,” I went on, basically listing the classic rock bands I listen to. When I finally fell silent again, I noticed Plum staring at me with a raised brow and confusion in her eyes.

“Kinda… Wild for a Pastor? What’s your favorite AC/DC song?” 

“Highway to Hell.”

“You’re lying,” she said without a second thought. I stared at her and smirked. 

“I’m the Father of a Catholic church. God’s watching my every move. Why would I lie about Highway to Hell being my favorite song?” I asked as I sat more against my desk. She shrugged.

“Just ironic, I s’pose,” she mumbled. 

“What’s your favorite AC/DC song?” 

“You Shook Me All Night Long,” she said very pointedly. I hummed lightly and nodded. 

“We’ll have to listen to classic rock while cleaning up the church one of these nights,” I explained as I stood up properly.

“Who’s this we you’re talking about?”

“I’m not the only one who has penance, Plum,” I explained as I walked around my desk and took a seat behind it once again. Even though there was just a desk between me and the woman, it simply felt like we were worlds apart

Over the following weeks (which inevitably turned into months), my bond with Plum grew. It seemed like more often than not she came and paid me a visit. Time of day seemingly didn’t matter either. My nights and days felt as if they blurred together. As for Plum, her life was a bit of a mess. I’m not one to judge though. Considering my life and past? It’s a miracle I made it this far. 

Although our bond strengthened, it’s been almost a month since I’d last seen her. I hadn’t seen her face in the congregation on Sunday morning. She hadn’t come to pay me a visit on a random evening during the week either. I worried if something had happened to her.

On a random Wednesday, during confessionals, just as I was about to finish up, a woman stopped me. It felt as if she’d been waiting till the sanctuary was totally empty before she stepped into the booth. It nearly caught me off guard when I heard the door to the other side of the booth open and close after she stepped in. My bottom never hit the bench faster when the lock was latched. 

The silence that filled the booth was mildly eerily. The only sound that could be heard came from the woman beside me. Every so often I could hear her sigh or sniffle,  with the occasional sound of her lips parting. I wondered briefly what it was she was scared of and what I could do to help her out.

“Er, uhm… Forgive me, Father… For I have sinned. It has been… What day is it?” the familiar voice asked. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“May 18th… Wednesday,” I replied softly. She stayed quiet for a moment. Plum’s breathing had a certain breathiness to it, which I took mental note of. 

“It has been one month since my last confession, Father. And I fear I’ve been skipping Sunday morning mass,” she whispered softly. If there was a single person in the sanctuary or if it were daytime, I doubt I would’ve heard her. So, thank God, that it was just us. Of course I was expected to be in the church at this time. I practically reside in the building. 

“And why’s that?” 

“I’ve been having impure thoughts for a man of higher stature, Father,” Plum said. My heart froze, forcing me to catch my breath. “And, I fear, Father, it may ruin me and him if either of us acted on anything.”

Christ, I need a drink. Preferably whiskey.

“But I can’t help it, Father,” Plum paused again. For a moment I let my thoughts run free and I tried to imagine what she would say next. “I-I think I’ve developed feelings for this man, Father, and I don’t know what to do.” Each one of her words got quieter and shakier as she spoke. 

“Have you talked to this man about your problems?” I found myself asking. I knew she was talking about me. She had to be talking about me. I’ve never seen her with another man in my time of knowing her. Shut up, I thought to myself, you only see her here.

“Yes, Father, but… I’m worried he could lose his job or one of us will get hurt. I don’t want to lose this person. He’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” she explained in a hushed tone. I swallowed roughly. “But I love him,” she added in an even quieter tone. My expression grew to be emotionless as my heart slammed against my ribcage. 

Before I knew it, I found myself on my feet and leaving my side of the confession booth. I could hear Plum on the other side still talking, but I was too distracted by standing behind her door. One more brave moment later, I pulled her door open and saw her sitting with her face in her hands. Though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she was crying. Only when I cleared my throat did she look up and see me. The little bit of makeup she wore had run down her face, making her look like an adolescent raccoon.

“Father-” she started but her words failed when she jumped from her seat. Her arms quickly went around my neck and her lips met mine. Any air I held in my lungs was hers now. My arms wrapped around her body and I pulled her even closer to me. After a moment of standing awkwardly in the sanctuary, we stumbled back into the booth, closing the door between us. 

Her lips began trailing down my neck while my hands wildly explored her body, before resting against her chest. We wanted more of each other, and it was more than obvious. But I had to put a stop to it before it got too far. 

She was the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden, and I was Adam tempted to take her. 

It certainly wasn’t the last time we made out in the confessionals.

It was nearing midnight, Saturday turning into Sunday. I’d have to be awake in 5 hours to prepare for Sunday’s mass. Sleep was irrelevant in my life at this point. It was a blessing if I even got an hour of rest. Unfortunately, rest would not be finding its way to me and I’d be up for what would feel like an eternity. 

A random classic rock playlist flooded the sanctuary, taking up any ounce of silence. My voice shouted and bounced off the walls as I sang along with the words. A glass of whiskey sat on the pulpit, the liquid almost half gone to my head. The mixture of my exhaustion, whiskey, and music made it impossible for me to be aware of anything around me. So I was mildly surprised when the music was turned down and a feminine voice took over.

“You’re up late, Father,” she said, forcing me to look up from my papers and right at her. She was standing on the ground in front of the stage. My breathing ceased to exist the moment my eyes met her.

It felt nearly impossible to keep my eyes on her face. But for the moment my eyes trailed down her body, I noted what she wore. A pair of dark grey athletic shorts hung from her hips, matched with a black shirt off her shoulders. She looked comfortable. I briefly wondered if she had even slept.

And then my eyes caught something as I looked back at her face.

Her necklace, the rosary her grandmother gave her, hung around her neck, and the cross sat right over her chest. It was getting increasingly harder to keep my eyes on her face instead of other, unholy, places. Did she even realize that? Was she doing it on purpose? I couldn’t tell at first. But the moment my eyes met hers, I could see her true intentions. How I didn’t see them from the beginning is beyond me. I’ve been so distracted recently that my head hasn’t been in the right space. 

“Plum, what’re you doing here?”

“You’re the one who said middle of the night,” she mumbled as she sauntered over to me. I swallowed roughly, watching as she tugged at the hem of her shirt. I could feel my briefs tighten as she stopped right in front of me.

“That didn’t answer my question,” I stated pointedly. She stared at me, swallowing roughly. I wanted to know what she was thinking, where her mind wandered as the silence settled between us. Her eyes fell to the ground and a slight look of embarrassment grew across her face. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” she whispered before looking back at me. I stared at her and nodded. Her eyes showed me that she was trying to act innocent. But everything else about her was telling me otherwise. She wanted more than what she was leading on. 

“I see,” I hummed as I reached for my glass. Plum stayed silent as she watched me take a long sip. I stared back at her, letting the bitter liquid sit in my mouth for a moment before I swallowed roughly. “So you came to talk to me?” I asked, placing the ledge of my glass on the counter. She smirked and nodded lightly. My eyes fell to the ground as she stepped closer to me, standing right beside me. 

“So I came to talk to you, Father,” she whispered before leaning over the counter. I sucked in a deep breath and glanced at her for a moment, noting that she was giving me a show. 

“Well, neither of us are doing much talking, are we?”

“And I fear neither of us will do much talking, Father,” she whispered as she looked up at me. I licked the corner of my lips before looking back at the notebook in front of me. My sloppy handwriting took up the header, easily saying Temptations From The Devil. The little devil beside me hummed as she went on her toes to try and gain my attention once again. “Father.” “What do you think you’re trying to do, Little Devil,” I asked as I finally looked back at her. She smiled the moment I said her new nickname. I wasn’t surprised when she refused to answer me. However, I was more surprised when she came around the counter and moved so she was standing between me and my work surface. Her arms snaked around my neck as she tried pulling me closer.

“Trying to corrupt you, Father,” she whispered once her lips were as close to my ear as they could get. I choked on my breath and stared at her with wide eyes the moment I could see her face. Her eyes scanned mine, waiting for a reaction. I wasn’t sure how she wanted me to react. Her honesty was something I wasn’t anticipating, and I’ve had people confess murders to me.

“Little Devil,” I said with a tsk as I lifted my hand to pull on her necklace. Her eyes fell to my hand as it rested on the center of her chest. She took a deep breath and looked back up at me as I pulled her closer to me. “You can’t corrupt something that’s been through years of corruption,” I hissed into her ear. She shivered slightly as our eyes locked. “On your knees,” I mumbled. Before I even got the command out of my lips, she was kneeling at my feet. I didn’t even care that the carpet was probably rough on her knees. There was not a care in my bones for her worry. 

My eyes fell back down to her, taking in how doe-y her eyes were as she impatiently waited for my next command. She wobbled on her knees slightly from side to side or back to back. Her lower lip was drawn between her teeth as her eyes met mine. When I took too long to speak, the little devil in front of me sat higher up on her knees and lifted her hands to my belt buckle. I wanted to stop her, really I did. But I think my need for more was stronger than any celibacy vow could be. 

Plum’s eyes shot up to mine the moment she’d finished unbuckling my belt. It felt like she was waiting for permission to do the next step. My head carefully moved up and down as I swallowed roughly. The smile that grew across her lips seemed sweet, but there was an obvious hidden meaning behind it. It seemed like it was her life’s mission to quickly undo my slacks. When they were finally undone, she pushed them off and to the ground. The cool air of the sanctuary hit my backside as I was left in my plain black button-up. Her eyes were glued to my hard cock that was just in front of her.

“Well,” I stated, causing the girl to look right up at me, “What are you waiting for?” My voice was low as I spoke. She stared right at me, it felt like she was looking right into my soul. What if she was sent by God to tempt me? Or worse, what if she was a gift from Satan to win me over? I didn’t want to question it the moment her lips parted and she gently licked the tip of my cock. A groan got caught in my throat as I watched the tip of my length disappear into her mouth. She was, most certainly, a gift from the Devil to win me over.

One of her hands wrapped around my thigh to hold herself up better, whereas her other hand wrapped around the length of my cock that she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her mouth was soft and warm, and her touches were harsh but at the same time gentle. It was merely impossible to let a simple, innocent, Godly thought in my head. Not while she was on her knees in front of me. 

Curses left my lips the longer hers were wrapped around my cock. I don’t think there’d be any way the church would forgive me for this if they ever found out this happened. The realization of potentially losing my job, and this entire life I’ve made for myself, hit me like a ton of bricks. Just when I was about to release into Plum’s mouth, I pushed her away from me and stepped back.

Plum fell to the ground, her eyes meeting mine with absolute shock and terror. I could see it in her eyes that she thought she’d done something wrong. But it wasn’t her. She had entirely nothing faulting her. It was my fault. I grew weak and wanted her. 

“I-uh, Father,” she started, causing me to refocus my eyes on her. Her eyes were the slightest bit watery and her lips the tiniest bit red and swollen. A small string of spit hung from her mouth as she stared back at me with her doe eyes. 

I needed her more than I needed air. Everything else truly didn’t matter. Everything but this little demon ceased to exist in my mind.

“Fuck the church,” I muttered as I helped the girl up onto the communion table. My lips quickly attached back to her neck, leaving small spots and kisses in my wake. Plum fought with her shirt, peeling it off and tossing it to the floor. Once her shirt was gone, I helped her pull her shorts off. Her eyes met mine as her hand went to the necklace around her neck. But then my hand met hers and I pulled it away. I wanted her to wear it. 

I quietly sunk to the floor, my knees resting on the rough carpet. Plum looked down at me when my lips pressed against her thigh. Her breathing was audibly caught in her throat after she sucked in a breath. Slowly but surely, my lips made their ascent up her thigh till I made it to her soaking cunt. I glanced up at her the moment my tongue passed between her folds. 

I’d never tasted anything sweeter than her. Forbidden fruits truly were the sweetest there are. I needed more of her. I needed her more than air and life itself. Fuck the church.

“Please don’t stop, Father,” Plum whined the more I tasted her. Her hands went to the back of my head, pushing me further onto her. Knowing that this was the worst possible thing I could be doing inside of my church, only made me want to keep doing it. The little sounds she made pushed me to keep going. They blocked out the voices I heard in the back of my head telling me how wrong this act was.

I could tell she was getting close to her end when her breathing grew airy. The grip her hand held in my hand tightened, gently pushing my head to ensure I didn’t stop. At this point, I don’t think I could stop even if she wanted me to. But, judging by each sound she made, she didn’t want me to either.  

Soon enough she finished, my ears being filled with the sound of her beautiful whines and moans. I truly didn’t stop till she was screaming with pleasure and pushing me away from her. My body fell back, sitting on the ground in front of her. Her eyes met mine for a moment, watching as I carefully stood back to my feet. 

“What do you want, Little Devil?” I asked, my voice low. Her breath shuddered as I grasped her rosary and pulled it. She gasped lightly as she fell closer to me. Slowly, her rosary wrapped around my hand till my fingers grazed her throat. “Go on… Use your words.”

“I want you, Father,” she whimpered, lifting her hand to my wrist. I scanned her face for a moment before roughly pressing my lips to hers. The rosary around my hand tightened around her throat. The moment I knew her breathing stopped, I lined the head of my cock up with her entrance. She looked up at me, shifting from side to side as she impatiently waited for what she wanted. An evil smirk grew across my lips as I basically slammed into her body. 

“I want you too, Little Devil,” I mumbled before pulling her closer to me. She choked on a whine as her head fell forward to my shoulder. The movements my hips made hastened just as my hand slipped further up her necklace till it was around her neck. My other hand snaked up her side before joining my hand around her throat. The slightest bit of pressure was added and I could see it in her eyes that she was enjoying this. But to be fair, as was I��� Maybe a little too much. It was hard to say how long it’s been since I’ve been in such an intimate position with another person.

Her body clung to mine in every spot. It was like she needed me to survive. She probably felt that way in the moment. How do I know? Because that was how I felt about her. I needed her more than anything else in the world.

Plum lifted her hands up to my wrists and held them tight before tapping the side of my hand. I stared at her as I slipped my hands up her face and held her cheeks instead of her neck. My thumbs moved back and forth as I wiped away the slight dampness on her skin. Her moans sounded like music from Above. I simply couldn’t get enough.

“I’m close,” she whimpered. I smiled and nodded, taking her words to my heart. I wished I had Reid’s eidetic memory so I could file that away forever. 

“Can you hold on for me? Just for a few more seconds?” I asked, practically begging. She nodded lightly as she moved my hand over her lips. She was leaving light kisses on my palm. And a few moments and faulty movements later, we finished together. Her body fell into mine, and with what energy I had left, I kept her upright. Her breathing slowly evened out. And then I realized what we had just done.

I was fucked.

Weeks, if not months, have slipped by and my bond with Plum turned into something I wasn’t expecting. Of course, she was the one who appeared at my parsonage more than I called her up when one of us were in need. I didn’t question it. But the elders and congregation of my church were growing suspicious. Hell, it even felt like every painting of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ were staring at me, like they knew I’d been doing wrong.  

I had to put an end to this whether I wanted to or not. It was going to hurt more than I could imagine. These were things I was trying to get away from. But it felt like they just followed me no matter where I went. I had to tell her. I certainly wasn’t prepared to break her heart, or mine. It was, however, the way things had to be.

I needed to seek guidance on what to do. I didn’t want to shame her or anything like that. And I certainly didn’t want her to leave her home church. So, I set up a meeting with a couple of the elders of the church and explained to them the situation I had put myself into. To say they were shocked was an understatement. Once shock wore off and they were ready to talk, we set up a plan on what to do. I was thankful they didn’t judge me or Plum. They did, however, agree that I needed to end it… And included I should leave.

My office was eerily quiet the morning I called her over to talk. It was like the entire building of my church knew what was happening. Of course the building would know. It knows of our countless escapades and hidden moments. 

When Plum arrived to my office, I quickly straightened out the slight mess on my desk and sat up right. She smiled at me as she walked around the two arm chairs (I was partly expecting her to sit in on) and my desk and sat down right beside me on the smooth surface. Her eyes met mine and I could tell she came here for something I wasn’t going to give her. 

“You wanted to talk, Father?” she asked, leaning closer to me. I stared at her before clearing my throat.

“I-Uh, yes. I did want to talk. No sneaking business,” I pointed out. Her slick smirk disappeared when she realized she wasn’t going to get what she wanted. After a brief awkward moment, she stood up and sat on one of the armchairs. I stared at her, watching as she nervously pulled and played with the hem of her shirt. I’d never seen her this anxious. 

“W-What was it you wanted to talk about?” she quietly asked. Part of me wondered if she knew what I was about to say. Her anxieties truly came out of nowhere. But I was doing this for her. 

“I understand that you’ve been attending this church since you were young… So it wouldn’t be fair for me to ask you to leave the congregation,” I mistakenly started in a terrible spot. I should’ve written out everything I wanted to say to her. But my brain was slush and improv was a safety guard for moments like these. Who am I kidding, I’ve never been in a moment like this. Not in my time in the Army, not in the FBI, or even teaching. This was the worst of the worse.

“Father, I- I don’t understand,” her voice quietly said. I was thankful we were the only ones in the building because she was so quiet. Suddenly she became so small. I was so used to this loud girl entering my office getting one thing, and one thing only. But she wasn’t. She became scared. 

“I am stepping away from the church, here in Florida, and I’m moving back to Virginia to help out a church there,” I calmly explained. I could see in her eyes that she was growing more frantic. Was she going to say she could come with? That leaving is a mistake? That she was going to make my life Hell?

“Father-” She started, but I was quick to cut her off.

“The time I had spending with you, Plum, I will cherish forever. But I cannot see you anymore. We cannot see each other anymore,”  I whispered. The fear of my voice cracking and tears growing in my eyes came true. I almost wasn’t able to get my words out. But then she said the thing that would break me for sure.

“But- I love you.”

“I know. I love you too. But… It’ll pass.” I stopped talking and stared at the woman who sat across from me. Tears were instantly welling in her eyes, waiting a moment before rolling down her cheeks. I swallowed roughly as I stood up. “For the sake of my sanity, and yours… Please don’t contact me again,” I said in a still tone as I looked at her. I hated the way her tears stained her cheeks. This was for the best, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself. There’s no way there’d be a good outcome if we continued sleeping together, let alone see each other. This was for the best.

 I stayed silent as I left my office. Words didn’t have to be exchanged for it to be bittersweet and emotional. My back stayed towards the girl as I walked away, and I could feel her eyes on me the entire way out. This would be the last time I saw my sweet Plum. 

let me know your thoughts and comments on this one shot here!

#shadow posts stuff #shadow writes stuff #masterlist #luke alvez #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x you #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez fan fic #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez fan fiction #criminal minds fanfic

[raving-raven-writing]

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took me a bit to answering. And sorry for the word vomit that follows--I realize I wrote a lot for these answers, but I don't want to shorten them.

✨Out of the comments you've received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites? Well, I just got one yesterday on my Avatar story Path of the Lost Men that went along the lines of "Do you enjoy emotionally torturing us?" and this made me laugh, but it is nice to know that my writing can have that effect on people. There was a comment in regards to my story "Taken" for OHSHC where they said something like "This is cool, but why are you telling it backwards, you already know how everything went down" and when I asked them if they knew what was going to happen in future chapters, they never responded, so I was like "Clearly, it wasn't open shut as you thought." One of the nicest comments I've ever gotten, to date, was back when I posted back on FF.net. This person left a long message saying how they had read all the other comments and there seemed to be this one negative nelly leaving bad reviews, but they thought my story was honestly very good and that I should continue writing and being awesome! That is not verbatim, but as a younger writer at the time, this really warmed my heart and made me feel better about my writing and myself in general. I saved the comment in my screen shots so I can look back on it when I feel down on myself. But in terms of comments, I always like the ones where people tell me how it made them feel, or how certain characters come across, or the accuracy of medical illness and or disabilities. These all tell me that I am doing a good job in my writing. 💕What is your favorite fic that you've written?

I don't know if I have a top favorite. There are several that I would label as a favorite. If I think back to the earliest stuff I wrote on ao3, "There For You" and "No Such Thing As Normal" for The Umbrella Academy fandom are still some of my favorites because I can still re read them and laugh at them. My Snowpiercer story titled "New Home" is my longest one shot to date, but I really enjoyed writing it too. And then I have my story "Taken" for the Ouran Highschool Host Club (OHSHC) fandom, which is still ongoing--this story came from a dream, it is dark but I enjoy it (And I really should update it....hehe....). Most of my Newsies stories I've also enjoyed writing. "A Sleepwalking Spider" for the Avatar fandom was fun to write. And with my current WIPs, I am enjoying "Path of the Lost Men" for the Avatar fandom (although the last chapter is giving me some issues) and some other Avatar related WIPs that have not been posted yet. There are other WIPs for different fandoms (Encanto and Total Drama Island) that I would label as favorites because I love the storyline/story idea) and I really should finish them so I can post them... 🎨If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see? Hmm...well, I would love to see a scene from my story "There For You" for TUA, where Klaus, Diego and Five are sitting outside a diner and Five ends up falling asleep after the adrenaline rush calms down and someone comes along to take their photo and then emails this to them. Or maybe one of the scenes in Path of the Lost Men, where Mansk is sitting with Lortireu, watching Ralu dancing, or the scene of Lyle at the end of the adoption ceremony where he is full on sobbing. Or either one of the scenes where they are visiting the other Recoms with the Tree of Souls--I get a lot of cool visuals with that when I think on it.

#fanfic ask game #thanks for asking #multiple fandoms #fanfiction #fanfic writers #fanfiction community #avatar atwow #the umbrella academy fandom #encanto #snowpiercer fandom #newsies fandom #ao3.org

[icantbraintoday-tryagainlater]

The Bullet that Carved My Name (Chapter Two)

Chapter One

Title: The Bullet that Carved My Name

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Death, gun violance, murder, blood/gore

Fandom: Death and Martha, and Hell's Belles (TikTok's Flickerspark and Sea Ya Out There)

Summery: You die at the hand of your father and learn to love yourself in the afterlife, where Lily, Sharkie, Penny, and the Hellp Desk Gang take you into their adopted family.

Chapter Summery: Bex meets Lily and Penny and learns she doesn't belong in Hell.

Listen - I don't own anything, ok? I don't even own the laptop I'm writing this on or myself (I'm in a lot of dept). But I don't approve of anyone taking this and posting it somewhere else. This is my work and I've worked hard on it. It isn't Beta'd or Proof Read so I guess you could say the onlything I do own are the mistakes in this. I've taken A LOT from my personal life and put it into this story. Please be kind. And if anyone wants to Beta it, I would love that! Just message me and let me know!

I took a glance at the clocks on the wall of the waiting room and hummed, watching the time tick by. For the first time in my life - er… death? I didn’t have anywhere to be, anything to do, or anyone to meet. It was strange. So I didn’t even notice that I had been sitting in the waiting area for 3 whole days. 

Three. Whole. Days.

Oh shit.

Quickly, I stood up and padded my way over to the Hellp Desk where I had noticed several people ushering the worst of humanity through to their levels of Hell for the last three days. It had been quiet for a few hours by this point, so the woman behind the desk, I believe her name was Lily, from what I had gathered from watching, was reading The Hobbit. It was a worn copy, and clearly very loved. I instantly fell in love. Tolkein always had a special place in my heart. Middle Earth was my get-away when life became too much .I often dreamed about being part of that world. Having parents who loved and cared for me more than they loved and cared for money and possessions…

“Um, I'm so sorry to interrupt your reading,” I started as I shuffled on my feet and played with the hem of my shirt.

“If you have a problem that you’re down here, just remember that today is not the day, I am not the one, and the coffee machine is being fixed. So tread carefully.” She said as she turned the page to keep reading before she glanced up at me. “Wait - Who are you? You’re not on my list today.”

“I’m sorry, what’s wrong with your coffee maker? I could take a look? I worked at Starbucks for a while, and I might be able to help?” All thoughts of asking for help for myself immediately slipped out of my head as I heard that someone else was needing help. I could take a look at a coffee machine. I loved coffee. I lived off of coffee. And if I could help the women who clearly had the toughest job in all of creation, I would happily help!

But Lily just stared at me as I babbled until she finally shook her head. “Hon, you’re not supposed to be in Hell. Did you take a wrong turn?”

“Oh no, I definitely belong in Hell.” I immediately started arguing. “Like I told Death, if there’s a Hell, then there’s a Heaven, and my parents were right. I definitely belong in Hell for leaving the church. And being pan… Huh… Guess it was a choice…” I sighed, defeated. “I’ve been sitting over there for a few days and I was just wondering if I needed to go to a different level? I’m honestly not sure if I’m even on a level yet.”

“Oh, honey…” Lily put her book down and shook her head, looking me up and down which made me feel even more uncomfortable. “The Christians weren’t the only ones who were right. Yes, there’s a heaven and a hell because that’s what some people believe in. But I promise you, that’s not the only afterlife. There’s paradises you can only imagine, and tortures even worse than level 9.”

“Don’t tell Greg that!” A voice piped up as Penny came over to sit down next to Lily. “He takes his responsibility very seriously, Who are you? Oh, do we have another trainee!?”

“Trainee?” I asked, frowning, confused.

“Love is never a sin,” Lily says, searching her desk for what I assumed was my paperwork. “And neither is leaving a church that preaches hate. Ah! Here it is!” She held up my file with a triumphant smile. “Now, let’s see where you re– Your father really did that?” She asked softly, looking at me.

I shifted again, uncomfortable for the umteenth time. “I just need to know where I go so I can stop bothering you. I didn’t mean to interrupt the Hobbit for you. And before I go, I can still look at the coffee machine.”

“You can fix coffee machines?” Penny asked with a hopeful look. “Oh, you definitely belong here with us, then!!”

“She belongs in her own paradise. Hon, you were a great person.” Lily looked at me again, tilting her head. 

“What do you mean? I was horrible when I was a kid.”

“No, you were hurt when you were a kid. And you’ve more than made up for it in your adult life before you died. You were supposed to live a lot longer, too…” She shook her head. “Do you know how many of your friends you’ve saved?”

I frowned, shaking my head. “What do you mean?”

“It says here that wherever a friend called you for help, you were there. Regardless of when or where it was. You’ve talked so many of them off a literal cliff. You saved so many lives. And you did everything you could to help others. But no one was there to help you…”

I was getting more and more uncomfortable as Lily continued to read from my chart. “I just did what I would want someone to do for me. It was nothing, really.”

“That’s not nothing.”

I glanced over to Penny and bit my lip. She was looking at me strangely.

“I wish I had someone like you when I was alive… I might not have ended up here so soon.”

“Oh - Oh, Penny, I’m so sorry.” Immediately I felt my heart break for this beautiful woman in front of me.

“It’s alright.” She said, giving me another smile. “I found my happiness. And my place to heal. And now, you do too.” She reached over the desk and took my hand, squeezing it a little. “How would you like a job?  Here at the Hellp Desk? It helped me heal, and I think it will help you, too!”

#fanfiction #hell's bells #tiktok #martha and death #death and martha #death and mortal companion

[highpony-betty]

Para

Title: The Pain Shouldn’t Be Hers

Status: Brief

Who: Barbie & Betty

Mentions: Violet

About: Betty loses her control when she sees her sister being used by several people at once, going to Barbie for aftercare and a chat once Violet is taken care of and resting.

TW: Blood

Betty slammed her door behind her, walking briskly to the bathroom and grabbing a towel, wetting it with cold water and holding it against the palm of hand. She alternated hands until every single inch of it was stained with her own blood. She grabbed another towel and did the same, groaning and growling in anger before just yelling bloody murder at the mirror. She ignored the peeling skin and blood on her knuckles, just letting it spread over her flesh and into the sink. The ribbons of red would have been beautiful under different circumstances. But this wasn’t anyone’s doing but her own. Her nails had dug unbelievably deep into her palms, and she’d done damage to a wall with her fists to avoid punching someone. She was in no mood to take care of herself. Violet was asleep, and she couldn’t just leak blood everywhere, so she grabbed a first aid kit and swallowed some pride, kneeling outside Barbie’s door and waiting for it to open. “It doesn’t hurt that much,” she offered in defense of herself. It was weak though, because her cousin knew about her old anger issues and would probably spot the signs very quickly that no one had done this to her.

Barbie was working on her dissertation and wondering about her next axam when she hard a knocking at her door. She hdn't invited anyone over, but she still put on pink heels that matched her tweed outfit perfectly and opene the door with her red head cassading down her back. She rai8sed an eyebrow before she noticed what was in her cousin's hands and then seeing the redness against her skin. Stepping aside, she pointed for Betty to move inside her resident and then took the kit. "Talk."

Betty slinked in and picked a spot where she wouldn’t risk getting blood anywhere. “People are hurting Violet.” She was a little disappointed in herself, but honestly she’d have done damage to them if they weren’t in school. “They’re lucky I didn’t have my gun.” She wouldn’t have shot them of course, but she felt it made her point clearly.

Barbie opened the kit, always happy to play doctor, because she found all aspects of human bodies interesting. She raised her eyebrow higher at her cousin's words. "And how is you getting punished helping Violet? I know you'll hate hearing this, but tha t is a possiblity for her. She's a slave and you can't hurt them or yourself."

“I didn’t get punished,” she corrected. “Im only bleeding because I did it to myself.” She was pretty detached from the pain she’d inflicted on herself- clearly not caring much that she was bleeding. “Kind of wish I’d have done something to them though. It would at least feel like Im not powerless.” She watched Barbie as she patched her up, always learning from her.

"Yet." Barbie corrected, because she knew that if Betty reacted the wrong way, she would be. Maybe even more. She didn't really want to think about that, cleaning the wound properly as she looked at it before her green eyes shifted to her face. "You really want to make it worse for Violet? Because that is what you're going to do if you do that. I know you might hate this, but in regards to Vi? You are powerless, the best you can do is keep amlevel head and provide aftercare when needed."

“I don’t do well with being powerless against problems,” Betty mumbled a little angry- a little defeated. She tried to stay calm even now that she was in a safe space; watching Barbie’s movements trying to work herself into somewhat of a trance to cool down. “Keep a level head while people torture my sister..sure. Sounds doable. I’ll get right on it.”

"The solution would have been buying her, but it didn't work out that way. So now the solution is to work past it." Barbie said, shaking her head as she looked at her cousin. She knew it hurt her, but she also knew that things were not changing, because Violet was now a slave and slaves got abused. "You don't have a choice. You have to figure out how to suppress your natural feelings."

“Ugh,” Betty groaned, placing her face in her hands because she was too distracted by her feelings to remember that her cousin had been working on bandaging her hands. “I don’t know how to do that. I’ve been doing well, I really have. I haven’t been asking her things like I want to, and I don’t make her come to me all the time. I’ve been not getting involved which..” she trailed off. No one was surprised when she’d ended up in the kind of work she did with the FBI. Ever since high school when she’d come out of her shell, she got involved in everything. “It’s been hard. I’ve gotten in trouble in class twice for not paying attention. But it was only because they were showing guidance videos that had Vi in them. I can’t watch them.”

Barbie took her hand back after she moved them, shaking her head at Betty. "It sounds like you need to be desensitized to it and the best way is to watch her. It's no different than any other slave and their family. You're wallowing in this." Barbie was practical when others wasn't. "You're going to hae to learn how to get over it. You have to learn to watch the videos and not see your sister, but a slave."

“Desensitizing is an option,” Betty had to agree. She was trained in it, but it could be super tricky. “I can’t just obliviate us being sisters, though. I’m not willing to do that. Which means I have to be okay with people hurting my sister.” Not the best option in the world, but if carried out slowly and carefully, it could work. She reached into her pocket to get her phone to start coming up with a plan, but then remembered she was being taken care of- giving her hand back to Barbie. “I wonder if it’s psychologically possible to be okay with someone getting hurt while still thinking of them as a person.”

#paras #para: the pain shouldn’t be hers #para: barbie #violet #family

[silkiemae]

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas

My Rating: 2/5

This book was so very clearly written by a teenager. Before I start this review I want to let everyone know I chose the ‘romantic’ reading order so that I’d have the best emotional impact throughout the story. So I’m choosing to read the prequel after book 3(I think that’s what it said to do).

Anywho! Throne of Glass is centered on Celaena Sardothien, who is the world’s greatest assassin. She was rescued by Arobynn Hamel, King of the Assassins, at age 8 after she tried to kill herself(?) and then he trained her to be an assassin as well. And in nine years, she somehow became the world’s greatest assassin which is impressive for one so young. She’s also managed to become this amazing assassin without anyone ever seeing her face, but her name is basically a feared thing among Adarlan. We meet Celaena after she’s been imprisoned in these salt mines in Endovier for a year, and by this point, she’s been tortured, malnourished, and has seen some serious shit. She, at one point, tried to run away in the hopes that they would kill her, which shows how bleak this place is so you’d kind of expect Celaena to behave super sullen and depressed but she is instead, very bubbly and child-like in her behavior. 

One day the Crown Prince of Adarlan, Dorian Havilliard, shows up, and he’s like, yo, if you come with me and compete in this contest, you can win your freedom after you work for my dad as his bodyguard for like four years and she’s like oh hell yeah, I’m in. And here’s the thing, I was totally expecting Celaena to be super mature for her age and like really composed but Celaena acts like such a petulant little CHILD all the time she drives me nuts. She arrives at the kingdom, capital, castle place or whatever, and she sees all these slaves on the docks and instead of being enraged at the sight of them, she’s like, ‘oh shit, I hope they know that I’m just like them and one time I freed 200 slaves!!!’ Like...girl, sort out your priorities. I found the fact that she spent a majority of her time in the castle playing dress up to be ridiculous. I appreciate the fact that she has these interests, like yes it’s great that she likes fashion and she plays the piano and she likes to read but girl…you are in a competition for your freedom. I don’t think you’re fully grasping the stakes here. Personally, I would not be trying to befriend my competition nor would I be training one of them to help their chances. I would be focused solely on myself so that I can win my damn freedom. There are no women at all in this competition but there’s a random princess in the kingdom who’s visiting as an envoy, though why they would allow her to visit when they’re hosting a competition with a load of violent assassins/criminals I cannot say. Celaena naturally befriends this princess and is the only one who can properly speak her language(she learned it from the Eyllwe slaves in Endovier) but the only other female in the story, Lady Kaltain Rompier(wtf is up with these names) is your typical jealous jerk who hates Celaena for literally no reason other than she assumes she’s dating the prince. I’m so tired of these tropes of women, they’re so unnecessary. Oh, there's also Dorian's mom and Philippa but they show up to rarely. 

So, she’s spent all this time forging the title as world’s greatest assassin for herself, all while keeping her face a secret. So because they want her to participate in this competition, they decide she should use a fake name so as not to give away this secret she’s spent years maintaining. And she’s…mad about it? She’s mad that no one is going to look at her and know her for the deadly assassin she is. She’s mad that Brullo isn’t praising her skill. She’s mad that no one is giving her any recognition for being amazing which is so unlike any assassin I have ever read. Wouldn’t she want to be unassuming and stay off their radar so that, in the final hurdle she can surprise everyone and take them out? They’ve been underestimating her this whole time but no because Celaena is so prideful she has to show off and make it known that she is better than all of them and it really makes me dislike her. She’s the only woman in this competition(which is ridiculous, first of all) and you would think that these men would see her as weak sauce and want to push her out of the running. But no one pays her any mind and just kind of lets her do her own thing. It’s very unrealistic. I don't mind Celaena being confident in her abilities it's just that her ego is so massive that when she finally gets her ass whooped in the final duel I was living for it. 

Now here’s the thing about the competition that makes absolutely no sense to me. So Celaena was enticed into participating with the promise of freedom, right? She’s an assassin, and there are other assassins participating in the contest as well. There are some master thieves and even a soldier in the royal army participating. But not all of these people were imprisoned before being sponsored for the contest, so what were they promised if they won? Celaena ends up getting a hefty salary on top of living in luxury in the palace and after her four yers are up she gets her freedom. So I'm assuming the others were hoping for gold and luxury but sometimes it seemed like they were held hostage and other times not. Sven was murdered for trying to run away but Nox was able to just walk out the door. Nox was told he wouldn’t be made to go to prison if he lost this contest, so clearly, he doesn’t fear the possibility of dying as a result of losing. Cain was already a soldier in the royal army so what's his reasoning for taking this position? Does he just want more fame and glory? It seemed like he had more sinister motives and I'm hoping they come to light in the next books. Maybe Perrington was manipulating him into participating? Also, why would the king want thieves or assassins to be his bodyguard? An assassin is more likely to kill the king than protect them, especially if they were in a position like Celaena's. And a thief would be more likely to rob the king and sneak off in the middle of the night than be a proper bodyguard. Why do the tests consist of climbing tall buildings like that doesn’t show how good they would be at protecting someone? It doesn’t make any sense to me whatsoever, lol. Also, this whole competition was to find a champion for the king, but he’s literally…not even there to watch any of the tests lmao. And the competition doesn't even actually happen in any way that we get to see. It's mostly summarized until the final duel and that was the most exciting part of the entire book. 

Also, if Celaena’s been imprisoned for a year, how can she possibly keep up with all of these men who have not been imprisoned at all? Like some of them are clearly in top shape, and she is somehow able to keep pace with them? Like, yes, she struggles and vomits up her food and whatnot but she is also having no issue staying in the competition or running a super rigorous trail. She has no issue throwing knives or anything like…girl, what? I know she has been trained for years, and I know those skills don’t just vanish with the drop of a hat but that doesn’t change the fact that her body has failed her, and it is not what it once was. Without the proper time to prepare for this competition, there is no possible way she would be able to keep up with someone like Cain, who has not been deprived of basic meals and exercise....and as it's later revealed, has been absorbing the strength of at least ten men.

Also, like her sitting there whining about food also makes no sense for someone who is severely malnourished and has been starving. She complains about how this roast chicken doesn’t taste that great, and it’s like the first real meal she’s had in a year…like, girl what? Then she says she’d rather die than eat fish like…if you had been in slavery for a year, I’m pretty sure you would treat that fish like a fine cuisine rather than turn your nose up at it unless you were deathly allergic. Speaking of food, Celaena is the biggest idiot on the PLANET for eating that mysterious bag of candy she wakes up next to on Yulemas. Is she an assassin or not? Someone could’ve poisoned that and she just..starts shoveling it into her face. I found myself wishing it was poisoned just because I find Celaena’s idiocy so damn insufferable. (When Lady Kaltain later poisons her I was like screaming vindication!!!)

Real talk, both love interests in this story are bland as hell. They could be replaced with cardboard cutouts, and it would change nothing for me. The interactions with Dorian are practically nonexistent throughout the first half of the book. Her chemistry with Chaol which is also as exciting as a watching water boil, is far better than what she has with Dorian. Yet she for some reason Celaena keeps looking at Dorian and wanting to kiss him which is so ridiculous. Like you realize this man is party to keeping you imprisoned dude? Don’t let the lavish house and access to a library fool you. You are still a slave. Celaena is so quick to forget that and so ready to befriend all of these people who are nothing more than her oppressors. 

No one can have a conversation without mentioning how pretty Celaena is or how smart she is, or how talented she is but she still cries constantly because no one recognizes how she’s the BEST. She gets super pissy that they threw a Samhuinn party, but no one invited her…WHY DO YOU CARE?!(But seriously...why did they not invite her? Was it just a convenient excuse for her to snoop? And for her to have her Cinderella masquerade ball entrance?) Like, I genuinely don’t understand why she CARES. She finds a way to escape but talks herself out of it because Princess Nehemia would be alone with morons, and Chaol would lose his job. WHY DO YOU CARE?! Like, these people are not your friends Celaena!! Nehemia, maybe, but she’s not a good enough friend to stay in a castle where you may die and/or be made to go back to prison when you have a legitimate escape route. But she wants to do it honorably. Goodbye. Like, screw honor, you’ve been imprisoned for a year. Escape if you get the chance. Run off into the woods. Who cares about Dorian and Chaol?? They have done nothing for you. 

So, I immediately became team Chaol when I learned that Dorian breeds puppies, was salty they weren't purebred and was going to casually kill one of them because it was antisocial. Like wtf??? And then when Celaena argues against this he's like 'alright fine I'll give it to a family' and like..why not do that in the first place bro? Then he gives Celaena the puppy and she has the most entitled ridiculous response I have ever read in my life. She immediately starts making all these demands about how she wants the dog trained and walked and fed....TRAIN THE DOG YOURSELF CELAENA. 

The final duel was the most entertaining part of this entire book to me. I loved reading about Celaena getting her ass kicked. and I'm so glad she dissed Dorian. I liked the world-building there was in this and I'm gonna read the rest of the series. I've been told they get better so we shall see. 

#Sarah j maas #throne of glass #celaena sardothien #book review #book nerd #book worm

[elvencantation]

A-Ning!

bonus:

#cqledit #cql #wen qing #wen ning #wen qionglin #chen qing ling #mdzsedit #mdzs #the untamed #untamed gifs #my gifs #wens #wen siblings #wen qing edit #wen ning edit #working title: i clearly like torturing myself #mo dao zu shi #cdrama #cdramaedit #in the rain #this was rly weird to color #hope it doesnt look too pink #i said yall werent gonna be ready for this one #i dont often do non main couple angst #but her face!!! #specifically the expression in that very first gif #elvengifs

[undercat-overdog]

I’ve not been working on Shall These Bones Live as I ought, but here’s a little sample from next chapter? In which the hero and the villain have found a geothermically active area and temporarily settled down: 

~

“Hmm. Annatar, what were you called before you were named by my people?”

Annatar flicked his finger against the back of Celebrimbor’s neck, the point where cervical spine met thoracic. “What, are you trying to appeal to what you would deem my better nature?”

“No, I was trying to elicit an answer, the most prototypical use of an interrogative pronoun. You’ve proven you remember me from Eregion; surely you remember how I like knowing things.”

Annatar laughed, and returned to massaging Celebrimbor’s back; Celebrimbor moaned involuntarily, Annatar’s hands and the heat rising from the water pulling all the tension away.

“Well then. The best translation in Quenya would be Mairon, though I was so named before my kind knew what language was, so it’s an approximation, the concept existing before the word and yet the word giving it shape, new meaning which it did not have before.”

“Mairon — whence Ar-Mêrôn, I presume.”

“Oh Tyelpe,” Annatar said, clearly amused, “you were dead when I called myself thus. Did you study all my deeds upon your rebirth?”

Celebrimbor rolled his eyes, but found himself more charmed than annoyed. “Hardly,” he lied. “What I was actually studying were the shifts from late Adûnaic to early Westron, and strangely enough, you did come up in the texts. But afterwards I tried to put you out of my mind, for what was the use of troubling my thoughts so?”

Sauron made a sharp little noise, but his hands were still gentle on Celebrimbor’s back.

“Names are changeable things,” his torturer said after a moment, rubbing his thumbs into the knots at the base of the neck; it hurt, in a pleasurable way. “I remember myself as Sauron, God-king of the earth; that was who I was in the last years, but you address me as Annatar at times. I am pleased to answer to that, if you would call me thus.”

“So I will,” Celebrimbor answered, setting aside as a later question that Annatar had thought of himself by that name and the title he had given himself, “if for no other reason than I find it a name pleasing to the ear, much to my sound-taste, though I can’t say I won’t call you Sauron either. You are abhorrent. You are... much to me, in ways good and ill both, and admirable, precious… I cannot say I never thought of you as such.”

“It was what my old master called me,” said Annatar, letting rest his hands on Celebrimbor’s shoulders, “though he didn’t use the Quenya. Both my old masters, as much as the concept that maira encompasses translates to language; language was not something we had when I was one of the people of Aule and thus that word was not exactly what Aule called me. The concept of it. And what I called myself, though I forsook it at the end. Yet for a while I was Annatar primarily, even in my own heart, for those were the syllables said to me in your voice, the sounds that your tongue made.”

He sighed. “But looking at you here, I am no less saura than maira.”

“Ah. Well. Yes,” said Celebrimbor, feeling light-hearted. He tipped his head back to look at Annatar upside-down, wet hair dripping on Annatar’s thighs. “Perhaps. But I no longer find it in myself to abhor you, for all that I ought.”

#my fic #silvergifting #celebrimbor #sauron #i really love 'lied' as a dialogue tag

[the-chaotic-neutral-pansexual]

Locked Up Sub!Shiro(Voltron)x GN!reader

CW: Smut, Dom/sub dynamics, chastity, praise, degradation, choking, punishment, implied prostate milking, anal sex/pegging mention, hand job, teasing, ownership, master kink, sadism mention, threats of future punishment.

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: This is my first request so it is a bit different from my usual work but I hope you are still able to enjoy it. My regular writing will resume this week.

This was written for a male reader but like most of my writing, there aren't really any gendered terms so it ended up being gender-neutral.

“You know what Shiro I’m at my wit’s end,” you say angrily “I’ve let your behavior slide for far too long without consequence.”

“Listen I’m sorry” he replies desperately. “It’s just with the team I’ve been so stressed and-”

“No” you cut him off calmly “I understand how you feel but that is not an excuse, you broke the rules” you continue. “Now you’re gonna use your words and tell me exactly what you did”

“I touched myself”

“And…”

“And I came without your permission’’

“You’re usually so good for me Shiro,” you say walking past him toward your bedroom “I’m sorry baby, but I have to punish you”

He follows you pleading “No please, I’m sorry I won’t do it again” his begging falls upon deaf ears as you reach into your toybox looking for the proper punishment. “ he continues trying to appeal to your softer nature “ come on master you know that I’m not bad, I just made a mistake. I was so needy and I just couldn’t help myself.”

Just as those words leave his mouth your hand moves from the flogger to the cage. If your good boy couldn’t help himself then it’s your responsibility to do it for him.

However, before you lock him up you decide to play with him a bit. “Aww you were needy for me Shiro?” you ask.

He doesn’t seem to notice your condescending tone as he answers “yes (Y/N), I missed you so much”

“It’s okay baby, I forgive you. Come sit” you sit on the bed, motioning for him to do the same.

He quickly moves to sit, he’s too busy falling into subspace to notice the cage you have sitting on the nightstand a mere few feet away.

As he sits down you begin groping his large, muscular frame, having your way with him as you whisper sweet nothings in his ear. You maneuver to sit behind him using one hand to grab his torso while sliding the other into his sweatpants.

“Strip for me baby,” you say, even though your tone was gentle you both knew that it was not a request but rather an order. Of course, he obliged, quickly getting up to remove his clothes before placing himself back in your embrace.

You take your hand spitting in it before slowly moving down his ripped body to wrap around his cock. He lets out a low groan closing his eyes and letting his head fall back onto your shoulder.

You use your other hand to push your fingers into his mouth, gathering some of his spit before moving to his chest to tease his nipples. Groans continue falling from his lips as you pleasure his body like he had been craving for so long.

“Does that feel good Shiro?” you ask lowly.

“Yes master, please” he whimpers out pathetically

“Please what baby”

“Please hngg- please faster”

Deciding to be nice you oblige speeding up your actions on his dick. He’s so wet by this point leaking precum all over your hand, the arousal sliding down his ass and dirtying the sheets.

With every second that passes he loses himself further until finally the only thought that remained on his mind was cumming. The only thing he desired was his release.

“Cum please master can I cum?” he begs, so blissed out that he could barely get the words out straight.

“Sure baby go ahead,” you say with a borderline sadistic smirk that was hidden from him.

“Hmmph thannnk you massterr” he slurs out the words before his mouth falls open in pleasure. Drool dripping down his chin in his fucked out state.

After a few more strokes of your hand, he releases. Squirting a big, thick, creamy load of opaque cum right in your hand. The volume couldn’t be contained in your palm thus making a mess all over his torso and your bed.

“Thank you” he repeats fully leaning back laying his body weight on you, exhausted from his orgasm.

While he’s still coming down from his high you reach over to your nightstand grabbing some tissues to clean him up.

After you deem him clean enough you reach over to the nightstand once again. Shiro lays on you eyes closed unsuspecting as you grab his soft cock beginning to position the cage.

He’s half asleep as he begins talking to you.

“I really am sorry for breaking your rules sir”

“It’s ok I forgive you,” you say while caressing his chest. You slowly begin to move your hand up.

“But just because I forgive you doesn’t mean you aren’t going to be punished” you whisper in his ear. Your hand wraps around his throat with one hand while the other finishes tightening the cage around him.

Once he fully feels the cold tight metal around his cock his eyes shoot open and he looks down. Sure enough, he was locked in a cage.

“Now let’s see if you can control yourself, Shiro”

Present-day

It’s been 2 months. 2 months of torture according to Shiro. 2 months of deserved punishment according to you.

While some may say this was too cruel you had to make sure that he wouldn’t disobey you again. The punishment was only supposed to last a few weeks but then 1 week in you caught Shiro trying to cum around his cage. Clearly, if you wanted him to behave then you needed to be cruel.

And so it went. He spent every day trying to occupy his mind so that way his neediness wouldn’t lead him to disobey you.

In the mornings he would distract himself by making breakfast and packing lunch

During the afternoon he would absolutely bury himself in work.

His evenings were spent training. Hopefully, if he wore himself out, he would be too tired to be horny he thought.

And at night he would make a nice dinner before going to bed early. At least if he was asleep then he could cum in his dreams.

After the incident at the beginning of his punishment, Shiro started to avoid you. Not necessarily because he wanted to but because you would tease him relentlessly.

You would tease him in the mornings by whispering filthy things in his ear with your raspy morning voice.

You would give him orders while making him use your title in the afternoon.

You would undress him with your eyes while he trained before stripping off your shirt and joining him in the evenings.

You would follow him into the kitchen groping him from behind while he cooked dinner at night.

He may have been able to handle being caged if it wasn’t for you. It was almost as if you were trying to make him disobey you… again.

However, he stayed strong. After his first slip up he was finally able to control himself for the remaining time of the punishment.

And finally, after a grueling 2 months, it was over.

One night while Shiro was getting ready for bed you slowly make your way into the room closing the door behind you which alerts him to your presence.

“Hey Shiro,” you say in a flirty tone that usually occupied your voice when speaking to him.

“Hey” he replies with a heavy sigh mentally preparing himself for more of your teasing.

You make your way behind him and begin teasing all over his body until he stops you abruptly with a somewhat irritated look on his face.

“What’s wrong,” you ask with a teasing smirk adorning your features.

“Listen (Y/N) it’s been a long day can we please do this tomorrow?” he asks sounding genuinely exhausted.

“Aww baby, you had a bad day?” you ask sounding still teasing but a bit more sincere than usual.

“Yes it was hard and long and I would just like to forget about it” he states sounding defeated.

“I may have something that can help you” you resume your testing “but it will also be hard and long,” you say surprisingly able to keep a straight face at your admittedly juvenile joke.

You reach down to grab his caged cock as you grind against his ass.

“Master please don’t tease me right now i-”

“What makes you think I’m gonna tease you?” you ask cutting him off.

“That’s all you’ve done for the past two months” he whines

“Two months has it really been that long,” you ask despite already knowing the answer.

“Yes it’s been so long master” he begins to grind back against you “I don’t know how much more I can take”

“You’re right Shiro Two months is a pretty long time, you must be so pent up” you continue teasing slowly moving to rid him of his shirt.

“Yes master” he lifts his arms “I’m so full”

“Tell me, Shiro, have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes I have learned my lesson master, I will never disobey you again I promise” he all but yells out desperately “please just help me” he begs.

“You better have learned your lesson, if not then next time it will be worse” you threaten “if you disobey my rules again then I’ll have to lock up you’re useless cock indefinitely”

“Yes master I understand please just let me cum, milk me dry” he cries “Haven’t I been so good for you?”

“Yes, baby I suppose you have,” you say before moving from behind him. He whines thinking you left him high and dry again however all of his worries are pacified as he hears the telltale jingle of keys.

“My poor baby, it must hurt to be so full for so long,” you say with false sympathy lacing your tone “don’t worry tonight I’ll give you what you need” you slide his pants down beginning to free his cock from its confines. “I’m gonna milk you dry, abusing your prostate with my cock until you have nothing left to give” you state “unless you’re still too tired?”

“NO, I’M FINE” “not tired at all master I promise”

“Good because we have a long night ahead of us,” you say. Shiro was so caught up in the anticipation of being able to cum that he missed the sadistic undertones in your statement. This was going to be fun.

#voltron #voltron x reader #voltron smut #shiro x reader #dom!reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #shiro voltron #shiro vld #vld shiro