not just fanfiction

The Dress

Reposting because the original was posted as an ask and I’m thick and can’t work out how to get a hyperlink to it. And for the photo of the dress, provided by @lokisgame - thank you!

And also because the sequel is well underway and I might be able to post it later, provided you all like it a bit rough.

She lingers in front of the window and looks the dress up and down. It is stunning. The sort of dress that would take people’s breath away. Dark red, hinting at danger, confidence, sensuality. It clings where it needs to, it drapes and flows and swirls. It is simple and elegant. It is also two pay packets worth of dress and she lets out a reluctant sigh as she turns away and walks to where Mulder is waiting with their coffees.

          The FBI ball is coming and it has been years since she’s attended. She remembers waltzing around the floor with Jack and getting tipsy on the sparkling white. He’d said something blunt about her behaviour and she’d ended up going home alone. The midnight blue dress she’d worn back then had never seen the light of day since. Maybe she could recycle it, if she decided to go this year.

          “Window shopping, Scully?” Mulder smiles as he gave her the cup.

          “Dreaming, Mulder.” She sips and lets the caffeine do its work.

          “Fantasies can actually be quite helpful to the human psyche, Scully,” he says, opening the door to the car for her. “They let your subconscious work through the difficulties of your day or your life, providing alternative courses of action for problem-solving, or just helping you to relax. It’s okay to dream.”

          She smiles at him. “Oh, believe me, Mulder. I do dream. I dream a lot.”

          His waggling eyebrows is so Mulder. “Tell me, Scully. I’d love to know.”

          “I bet you would, Mulder. But there are some secrets a woman has to keep.”

          He pouts. “I’m your partner. Secrets could endanger me.”

          She drinks her coffee and shakes her head. “Drive, Mulder.”

She hasn’t seen him watching her and it isn’t the first time she’s stopped at that particular window. He’d taken a walk one lunch time to see what it was that had caught her eye. It was stunning. The sort of dress that would take people’s breath away. Dark red, hinting at danger, confidence, sensuality. It clinged where it needed to, it draped and flowed and swirled. It was simple and elegant. It was also two pay packets worth of dress and he let out a low whistle as he imagined it on Scully.

          The FBI ball is coming and it has been years since he’d attended. He remembers waltzing around the floor with Diana and getting tipsy on the flat beer. She’d said something blunt about his behaviour and he’d ended up going home alone. The tuxedo he’d worn back then had been ruined in the fire during that case with Phoebe. It must time for a new one.

He puts the invitation in the envelope and leaves it on her dining table under a long-stemmed rose, its deep yellow petals edged with a red tip, like something was changing inside the flower. He lets himself out and waits for the phone call.

          He doesn’t wait long.

          “Mulder, was that you?”

          “Was that me what, Scully?” He stirs his soup and wonders when he lost the skill of cooking that his mother had spent many hours drilling into him.

          “The invitation. Please tell me it was you. Otherwise, I’ve got a stalker and after Padgett…”

          “It was me,” he says. He hadn’t even thought about Padgett. What a fool. Insensitive and careless. “I’m sorry, Scully. I should have just asked.”

          She laughs. “It’s okay. And thank you. The rose is beautiful.”

          He waits. And waits. She chats about their latest case and then says goodbye.

          “Hang on, Scully. You haven’t given me an answer.”

          “Oh, you’re right! Of course I’ll go to the ball with you, Mulder. It would be my pleasure.”

          Oh no, no, Miss Scully, he thinks, the pleasure is all mine.

The Josh Exley case had been a ride. And he’s feeling mischievous. He leaves the message on her answer phone and heads out. She looks beautiful in the dark, relaxed and open. There’s a side to Scully that he’s discovered how to tap into these days and she’s playful as she asks him what gives.

          “You’ve never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?”

When she’s fitted against him he wiggles and pushes as much as he dares. She’s laughing at his jokes and letting him guide her hands on the bat to strike that ball. She’s a natural. This is natural and he banters on.

          “How you couldn’t afford that new suede coat on a G-Woman’s salary,” and then they’re laughing together and hitting the ball to the skies and he’s lost track of time and he doesn’t care about his triple X bill. All he cares about this moment and he feels something inside changing.

          “Come back to mine for a coffee, Scully?”

          Her smile fades a little and his stomach tingles.

          “It’s late.”

          “I know. But it’s also the weekend and as far as I know you’re not Cinderella.”

          She looks to her feet and shrugs. “No glass slippers.”

He’s always slightly worried when she comes to his. He’s no housekeeper and his apartment is nothing special. But it’s home and he hopes she finds it comfortable. She walks to his fish tank, checking on the mollies. The green light makes her look ethereal and when she turns around and smiles at him his knees tremble. He’s holding the gift bag and she opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

The Josh Exley case had kept Mulder busy and she’d loved hearing about it. And clearly he’s feeling mischievous. His message on her answer phone is playful and cheeky but irresistible. She heads out.

          “You’ve never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?”

          “I guess I’ve found more necessary things to do with my time that slap a piece of horsehide with a stick.”

          It’s just the sort of thing he would say to her about her interests. He’s taught her well.

When she’s fitted against him she wiggles and pushes as much as she dares. She’s laughing at his jokes and she’s listening to his hips before hands flirting. This is natural and she lets him banter on.

          “How you couldn’t afford that new suede coat on a G-Woman’s salary,” and then they’re laughing together and hitting the ball to the skies and he’s lost track of time and he doesn’t care about his triple X bill. All he cares about this moment and he feels something inside changing.

          “Come back to mine for a coffee, Scully?”

          She feels a sudden pang of nerves and his hopeful smile fades.

          “It’s late.”

          “I know. But it’s also the weekend and as far as I know you’re not Cinderella.”

          She looks to her feet and shrugs. “No glass slippers.”

She’s always loved his apartment. He’s no housekeeper and there’s something special his poky quarters that thrills her every time. His prints on the wall, the clutter on his desk that displays the brilliance of his mind, the books he has on the shelf in his bedroom. She walks to his fish tank, checking on the mollies. When she looks round at him, he’s back lit by the soft glow of his wall lamp. He looks so handsome, but vulnerable. He does smile then and her knees tremble. He’s holding the gift bag and she opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

He moves towards her and presses the bag into her hand. She breathes out roughly and opens it. He watches her breasts move with her deeper inhalations and her skin flush from her chest and up neck as she pulls out the dress, wrapped in tissue paper, but obviously the one she had looked at so many times.

          “Mulder,” she says, her voice just a reedy whisper. There are tears in her eyes and her cheeks bloom. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

          He shakes his head. “It’s what you wanted, Scully.” He’s so close to her now, that he can hear the hitch in her breathing. “It’s what you deserve.”

She takes the bag and opens it, her pulse pounding in her ears, blood rushing to every surface so that she’s feverish. She takes the gift out and sees the colour of the fabric and knows instantly what he’s done.

          “Mulder,” she says, her voice just a reedy whisper. She feels hot tears spring and the heat rises in her face. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

          He shakes his head. “It’s what you wanted, Scully.” He’s so close to her now, that she can smell his cologne. “It’s what you deserve.”

And then he bends to kiss her because it’s the only rational response in the situation. The tissue paper rustles between them and he can feel the wedge of the dress against his stomach. He tamps down an image of her wearing it because it would be overstepping the mark for her to feel his desire so quickly after kissing her for the first time. Their lips are touching and he’s testing the waters, waiting for the moment to deepen it. When she shifts slightly closer, he knows it’s time and he opens his mouth, tasting her. She lets out a tiny sigh and he swallows it, loving that he has something of Scully inside him. He doesn’t want the moment to end. He wants her to breathe life into him forever. But she pulls away and drops her head and he sees the tear drop splash against her shoe.

And then he bends to kiss her because it’s the only rational response in the situation. The tissue paper rustles between them and she can feel the wedge of the dress against her chest. She tamps down an image of him waltzing her around this room wearing nothing but the dress and she feels her nipples harden at the thought. She’s glad of the cover of the dress because it would be overstepping the mark for him to feel her desire so quickly after kissing him for the first time. Their lips are touching and she’s testing the waters, waiting for the moment to deepen it. When she shifts slightly closer, he opens his mouth, and she tastes him. She lets out a tiny sigh and he laps at it. She loves that she has given him something of her own, something as precious as a breath. She doesn’t want the moment to end. She wants to breathe life into him forever. But she pulls away and drops her head and a tear betrays her emotions.

His arms are still around her shoulders.


          “I’m fine, Mulder. It’s just all too much.”

          He lifts her chin and smiles. “I’d say it’s not enough.” He kisses her again, chaste but full of promise. “Try it on for me?”

          She lifts it up and twists it back and forth. “It’s beautiful.”

          “You have good taste.”

          Looking up at him, she smiles at his words. “Yes, I do.”

When he asks her to try on the dress she feels a power jolt through her. She realises this isn’t just about her. This is for them. They are partners. They are undoubtedly attracted to each other. There is love so profound between them that it’s too difficult to quantify. But the simple act of him buying her this dress has undone her resolve and she feels the edges ripping away like the tissue paper.

          She does have good taste, she thinks, slipping past him into his bedroom.

When she appears at his doorway a thunderbolt strikes him and he feels like he’s having a heart attack. The way she is wrapped in the crimson fabric, the startling blue of her eyes, the upsweep of her hair that she’s somehow magically pinned on her head, the narrow waist, the swell of her breasts. She’s a vision. And he can’t move.


She’s never seen him pale so quickly, yet sweat beads are forming on his forehead. He sways on his feet. A small cough erupts from his throat and she ducks her head to give him time to compose himself. But when she looks up again, he’s still staring.


          He walks towards her and takes her hand. “You look amazing.”

          “It’s this dress, Mulder. It’s stunning.”

          “No, Scully. It’s you.”

          She reaches up and kisses his cheek and he takes her face and pulls it around, capturing her lips. He clasps her hand between them. A conduit for their beating hearts.

He dances her around in the hallway. Silent music leading them. He’s sure he didn’t deliberately push them back towards his bedroom but she yelps when her legs hit the bed and they stop to laugh.

          “Sorry,” he says, pulling her away.

          “I should take this off, before it gets ruined.”

          He’s feeling bold. “Can I help?”

          “Mulder,” she chuffs. But she doesn’t push him away. She just turns and he unzips it and lets it fall to floor in rivers of crimson. She steps out of it and turns back to him, arms extended and when she kisses him and her breasts push against his chest he wonders, for the first time that night, if this whole thing is real.

Just a game pt 5

When a college reunion takes an unusual turn, the reader finds herself amidst a game of truth or dare not knowing that at the declaration of dare would change her life into a spiral of trouble with the mysterious clown that lives in the sewers. Now her thoughts and dreams are haunted by him and she knows he loves to play…

…After the incident in the library archives, the reader lives in constant fear of the clown returning for another game. However, it’s been a week and there had been no sign of him, only the toll of lost children had risen. For an unknown reason, her friends have been able to persuade her to stay in Derry for a longer period for the summer vacation is in full. At least, she wants to think that’s the reason. There was no way it could be because she secretly wanted him to come back to steal a hot kiss again…

Warning: a little smutty!!

Hey everyone we are here with the fifth instalment of the story and honestly I just wanna say thank again because there are so many people who are enjoying the story and saying nice things. It really warms my heart ya know? So thank you very much! If you want to be tagged in the story then please let me know! (But please note that I’m on mobile only so don’t bother with the ask box cuz I can’t reply haha I accidentally deleted someone’s ask and I felt bad)

If you don’t like this content then please just scroll away because it’s not worth hating (not actually had any hate which is a blessing). I am keeping out of the main It movie tags.

Sitting in a bar sipping on an alcoholic drink wasn’t what you wanted to be doing and yet there you were. Of course, you weren’t alone. Your best friend was sat beside you with her second drink of the night. It was only the two of you but you had no idea why, however, you had a feeling you were about to find out. (Bf/n) gulped down the burning liquid and coughed slightly before she spoke.

“Alright, give it to me straight. What’s been going on with you? You’re…different and not in a good way. You’re jumpy and you avoid being alone as much as possible which is why I’m staying with you in the motel. Why?” She asked softly. You shifted in your seat and avoided her gaze.

“You’d not believe me. You already forgot.”

The woman in front of you sighed and her brow furrowed.

“You’re on about that clown guy again, aren’t you?”

You glared a little.

“I’m not making him up. He is a real creature who is tormenting me. Has been since day one. He’s responsible for the child disappearances and the weird events every twenty-seven years.” You said firmly. She pats your hand a little rougher than comfortingly.

“(Y/n), it’s a legend, nothing more. Maybe you need more sleep, perhaps go see a doctor and get some professional help.” She suggested. Your cheeks feel hot as rage slowly begins to bubble in your belly.

“Are you saying I’m going mad?” You nearly growled and she flinched.

“Come on, (y/n), you know it’s not like that-”

“-Yes it is! You all think I’m going mad but it’s real! Hell, he gave me my phone back, you know that! I didn’t go to the sewers and search for it, he had it!” You cut her off angrily. She held her hands up in defence.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry! So maybe he is real then why can’t any of us remember him?”

The question caught you off guard for a moment. You exhaled and sipped your drink, smacking your lips together as your thought of an answer. But you had nothing.

“I don’t know…maybe he made you all forget, I mean, he can transform into whoever and whatever he wants including the fear of his prey. Surely he could make you all forget. But why though, that’s what I don’t know.”

Secretly, you had an accurate assumption that it had to do with his little game he played to torment you and in order to do so he had made your friends forget so he could keep you all to himself until he decided he was bored with you. The thought made you shudder because it could be any day for all you knew.

“Hey, what does he look like?” Your best friend asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You blink a few times and then your eyes flicker to her face. And then you begin to describe him. You mention everything you’d noticed from his height to his features and clothing. You even mentioned the less human aspects such as unnatural eye colours that would change and his sharp teeth. She listened to your every word, nodding her head but not saying anything.

“And he can appear and disappear whenever he wants.” You finished. You’d finished your first drink by this point and she her second. You waited for a response but there was none, she turned to the barman and asked for two more drinks. She thought you were mad, you thought bitterly. She took a swig of her drink.

“When did you see him last?” She questioned.

“Last Tuesday in the library, why?”

“There’s been a crazy amount of kids missing between after that Tuesday and now.”

Your eyes widened. She was right. You bit your lip gently, a nervous habit of yours. Your eyes darted around the bar. You knew it was all a game. He was doing it for a reason.

“It’s a game, a game in which he taunts me. He’s expecting something…I don’t know what though.”

And then it hit you. A coldness encased you as the thought came to you like a winter breeze. He wanted you to go to him because he knew you wanted him. He knew you craved his touch, even if it was fucked up. (Bf/n) noticed you had tensed all over and goosebumps had prickled all over your skin.


Your eyes met hers.

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

You shook your head and grabbed your drink. As you pressed it to your lips, you spoke.

“I think I’ll leave at the end of the week. Friday at the earliest.”

Your friend made a noise at the back of her throat.

“That was sudden, but if it’ll ease you…”

“I don’t know what it’ll do, all I know is I need to do this. I need to stay away from this town.” You muttered and finished the rest of your drink in one swig, wincing at the violent burn down your throat to your belly. It didn’t help though. You didn’t stay at the bar for much longer, only five minutes after declaring your plan you were leaving the bar and headed back to your motel. You weren’t going to play this game for much longer.


Sleep was difficult to achieve, maybe because of the alcohol or maybe because your mind was racing but when you eventually drifted into the world of dreams you had never felt so at peace ever since you had set foot back in Derry. You were in a field of beautiful wild flowers, each a unique shade and shape. The field stretched out as far as the horizon in every direction except for what you assumed was south. A beautiful wooden house that had smoke slowly drifting out of its chimney contrasted against the sea of flowers. You were drawn to it for some reason, maybe it was because the flowers seemed brighter over there, and so your feet wandered towards it, every step bringing it closer and closer. It was taller than you had first anticipated but it wasn’t intimidating. From inside, a beautiful velvety voice called out to you.

“Come in, I wanna show you something.” It was a man who spoke. You thought nothing of it as you climbed the stairs of the front porch and your hand touched the door handle. It was unlocked, turning easily and opening inwards. Inside were two rooms either side of the entranceway and directly ahead. It was well furnished, even with a gleaming piano. You heard your name being called again, so you followed it until you came to the staircase. Whoever it was, they were on the second floor. Your feet pattered against each step and you came to a long corridor that had a room at one end and another room at the other. One of the doors was open and it appeared to be a bedroom of sorts, it was also the source of the voice. You stumbled blindly to it and entered the room where a tall man stood with his back to you. Your head tilted slightly as you shifted from one foot to another.


Your voice had his attention and he turned to you. You gasped, eyes widening in surprise. You noticed his big eyes first, they were a deep green-hazel and cast in the shadow of his brow. He had a cute button nose and full, pink lips perfectly sculpted for his face. He had a strong set of cheekbones to frame the face and his hair was a messy dark brown. His clothes consisted of a black vest top thag hugged his torso and some dark blue jeans. He smiled.

“There you are, I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” He said softly. You were confused. You had no idea who this handsome stranger was and yet there was something about him that was incredibly familiar. You stepped towards him, and he opened his arms for you. When you were close enough, he pulled you against his body and his lips met yours. They were soft and gentle, but as the two of you continued your affectionate kiss, it deepened and you were parting your lips for him. Before you knew it, he was straddling you on the large bed in the room, his arms framing your head as he held himself up by his elbows. Your arms were wrapped around his strong shoulders and your thighs parted for him to be closer still. Your hands gripped onto his skin as his lips left yours to trail down your jaw and a small whine bubbled in your throat. Your eyes were closed as his nose brushed along your jaw after your lips for he was making his way across your neck. Your hips were grinding against his at this point, a tingle in your groin becoming harder to ignore. However, your body tensed all over and a small cry of pain rasped from you as you felt a sharp set of teeth sink into your neck, right upon your jugular vein. Your eyes flew open so you could grasp the man’s face but oh how you wish you hadn’t. Shorter, dark brown hair had been replaced with blood orange and you cried out as you felt a tear in your neck. A moment later, the head of the one person you didn’t want to see lifted up for you and you choked. Pennywise’s smile was obscured by blood smeared all over his face. Your blood. You could feel it gushing from your neck at the rate of your beating heart and he giggled. You weakly attempted to push him away from you.


“So beautiful covered in red, moan for me.” he growled. His hand, now gloved, slid down to your quivering body to dance along your thighs. In this dreamworld, your thighs were already bare to him and he took advantage, his hand sliding to your panty covered cunt. You stifled a moan as your body jolted slightly.


“Don’t be so silly, you know deep down that you crave nothing more. Stop lying to yourself and take. It.” He whispered into your ear. Your eyelids fluttered shut as his fingers brushed against your sensitive clit, the sensation of the fabric of the glove creating a unique feel. His lips were upon the open wound on your neck and he began to suck gently as his fingers teased you.

Your body was so sensitive, so much so that when you finally moaned, you were awake, the dream a hazy memory in the back of your head. Your hand flew to your neck but there was no wound, only a ghost of a sensation. But your cunt was tingling, begging to be relieved and you couldn’t help yourself from spreading your thighs as wide as possible and using your dominant hand to swirl circles over your engorged clit over and over, your fingers dipping into your hole to gather it’s wetness to smear over the small bud more easily. You almost forgot that your friend was only across the room from you fast asleep, pleasure was the only thing you cared about. It took two minutes for the overwhelming shockwaves of your orgasm to hit you until your back was arching from the bed and your free hand covered your mouth to conceal your cries. The one thing in your head now was a name. Pennywise. There was no shame in your pleasure in that moment; you wanted more.


Allllllright that was shorter than my usual stuff but hey there was a little naughtiness there. Hope you all enjoyed it.

Tagged people:

@kurai-ai @perfect-ginger-maniac @kaylees1414 @cupcakeatl

anonymous asked:

I love how you write Dom!Prom and I was curious about a Dom!Iggy: 163?

Thank you for your kind words love! ^^ Dom!Ignis is not exactly my strong suit, buuut I couldn’t say no… He kicked the bejesus out of me. Took me three days to write this. *facepalm* Hope you enjoy! 

Mr. Scientia (Ignis x Reader) | NSFW

Warnings: SMUT! Dom!Ignis, bondage, oral, jealous Ignis, unprotected sex 

Words: 1682


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Oh, Darling Bride!

Inspired by and my sister who sat on the ‘mayoon’ chair and literally received a proposal in the next few months.

Summary: Liam attends a typical South Asian wedding function with his boyfriend, when suddenly things take a turn for wtf-ville. (Read on AO3)

Also, just want to say a big thank you to all those who read/reblogged my prev fic. The amazing responses spurred me on to write some more :)

“Aaye laariye ni tera sehreya wala wyaanwan ayaa”

Laughter surrounded Liam; rich, hefty belly laughs and delicate, feminine giggles reached his ears as he turned around to face the party that was in full swing at the moment.

A soft drink in his hand and clad in a slightly stiff, but beautifully embroidered sherwani-

(“Thank you, Trisha, I mean I can’t believe you gave me-” “Oh quiet, babe, you’ll look perfect in this anyway and it doesn’t even fit Zayn…”)

-Liam adjusted the vibrant yellow scarf around his neck when he felt warm, supple fingers meet his hand. He stood still, a smile sneaking its way onto his flushed face, as Zayn adjusted his scarf for him, gentle and slow, taking his time to make it lay perfect around him.

“Thanks, babe, I never know how to wear this,” Liam muttered, turning to face his boyfriend. Ah, his boyfriend. The best gift given to him. He had even taken the time to thank Trisha once, fully enjoying her delightful laughter as Zayn stood behind her scowling prettily at him. Right now, he looked divine in a charcoal black kameez, as Zayn had called it, and a yellow scarf matching the one Liam wore. His hair, grown out and curling slightly behind his ears, was swept back carelessly; a fact Liam appreciated terribly as he was blessed with the view of Zayn running his long, delicate fingers through his hair every few minutes to adjust it.

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Originally posted by amons-follower-jasa

AND WE’RE BACK! This week in the longest running audiobook ever: Everybody is doin everybody else a heckin concern, and another human falls into the Underground. I bet they’re going to make a lot of friends and everything will be great.

WELL my regular followers know what’s been going on with me lately so I’ll spare you the excuses, haha. Though I will say I’m sorry if the audio is wonky, this was recorded during the Great Insane Double Move of 2017™ and much of the audio was edited on my laptop during the Motherboard is Motherfucked Up Computer Drought®. So unfortunately the audio didn’t get the proper TLC it deserves.

So now that this monster of a video is done, on to a lovely little story by @randomcat1832! And by lovely I mean horrible and sad. But then I promise a little less angst with another Handplates story! You know, the happy one with the googly-eyed blasters.

why do you all stick around everybody dies and nobody is happy and it’s NOT GETTING BETTER FROM HERE

Hey @seigiva and @talkingsoup DOOR’S OPEN WE’RE BACK IN BUSINESS!

a small corvosider fluff ficlet because I’m having a bad day and want to wallow in their affections

It’s an odd feeling, having his hand held by the Outsider. His thumb traces the place where the mark used to reside, black ink against tan skin. It’s gone now and Corvo feels like the hand is no longer his own, can’t recognize it without the familiar symbol which offers protection and illusion of safety. At the very least he misses the surge of power that runs through his body like a pulse when he clenches his fist. He misses the thrill of chase in the night as he jumps across the roofs.

He wouldn’t ask for it. Wouldn’t come outwardly to the Outsider, begging for the return of his power because if necessary, he can manage without it. And something in his heart, an inkling, tells him he doesn’t have to ask.

“You need to learn to think quieter, my dear Corvo,” the Outsider says, caressing his hand. “But yes, you need not ask. It is agreed, then.”

His palm hovers over Corvo’s skin, blackness of the Void engulfing his fingers for a second when the image of the mark re-inks itself on his flesh, burning bright and golden in the odd blue light of the expanse. The Outsider’s hand moves to slip from his hold but Corvo doesn’t let him go, instead gripping on him gently. Fingers cross and intertwine with the Outsider’s.

“Interesting,” he states curiously, looking down at his pale fingers and Corvo’s thick tan ones. “I admit I have entertained an idea of this, whatever it may be. I did wonder what it feels like, holding your hand, but never have I thought you would indulge my curiosity. And Corvo, I am curious. Where does it take us then?”

Corvo shakes his head a little with a smile. The Outsider is at times incomprehensible beyond imaginable, but Corvo likes it. He would listen to his monologues with as much pleasure as merely holding his hand.

But he wants to try more, dare more.

His arm slides possessively over the Outsider who seems somehow smaller in his hold, narrow shoulders and fragile frame in Corvo’s embrace. The deity presses nose to his chest and he can’t help but smile, protectiveness washing over him.

He kisses his forehead. It’s cool to the touch, bloodless skin so pale and smooth. He kisses him again and his temple and sharp cheekbones and the hollows of his cheeks, the corner of his mouth which moves to talk. Corvo prevents the speech this time, pressing on the Outsider’s lips and smiling stupidly, as if he is sixteen and young again, stealing his first kiss off the gentle lips.

The Outsider is lost against him. At first the deity barely moves, allows his lips to be captured and worries, but then it becomes a game and he responds. Softly and gently, trying the waters until he knows he has a solid footing - and lets go. His hand clenches strong on Corvo’s as he kisses him back. It’s awkward a little and Corvo tries to lead him down a rhythm and tilt of their heads. And when they catch the pace, it’s perfect.

Corvo sways and pulls the Outsider’s body close to him and indulges in a tight desperate embrace as their lips move against each other.

In the years they’ve spent sharing company, the Outsider has opened up secrets and reveals stories to Corvo, be it a tale of the emperors or stories of simple men. All of them held value for the future of the Empire, small things that would one day lead to the Golden Age under Emily the Wise.

Corvo wondered what he could teach the Outsider in return. He had no new stories to tell and was only efficient in the knowledge of the present. But now as he presses the deity to himself in a most possessive manner, it might just be the lesson. He wants to show the way two people can express affection with or without physical involvement. He wants to give the Outsider the life of a human being he has been deprived of. It’s a long way up or down and Corvo wouldn’t mind taking it alongside the black-eyed deity.

“I don’t mind either, Corvo,” the god mutters against his lips, pulling away for a mere moment before sighing into the man’s mouth again, letting his tongue slip through the wet swollen kissed lips.

don’t hesitate to send me prompts :)

Rainy days and starry nights

Written for @katsudeku-week‘s KatsuDeku Week 2017.

Day 6 Prompts: Rain & Stargazing

Summary: Bakugou’s plans are utterly ruined, and nothing short of relinquishing his pride, dignity, and employing his newfound ability to make amends will be able to fix it. Good thing he’s always been stubbornly determined, if nothing else.

Or, the one where Denki is absolutely right, but Katsuki definitely isn’t about to admit it out loud.

Read on AO3

I’m in love with the shape of you

Narry Fanfiction.
Words: 3463
Summary: Niall has been getting off with strangers via webcam for a while now. No one intrigued him like the guy with the pretty tattoos though. SMUT.

Dedicated to @leprechauncupcakes​ and @littlemissmeggie​ because I love their narry stories ✌💛🌞 and @harry-nofookingway-styles because she’s amazing

Niall hits the spacebar again and again, one boring bloke replacing the next one. He’s not sure why he’s so into that webcam thing, why it thrills him to get off with strangers. Maybe it’s because he feels a little less vulnerable, a little more confident about his body than he usually does. When he’s at a bar with his mates and a boy or a girl start to hit on him he turns into a tongue tied idiot, already putting himself down. He points out his flaws to them and himself, making it obvious how scared he is of being close to someone. 

In the end he’s too much trouble, especially when all they’re looking for is a shag. Louis and Liam keep shaking their heads at him but he can’t help it, he can’t get out of his own skin. Only when he’s in front of the webcam his flaws turn into strengths and he never once wastes a thought on what the other person might think about him.

But tonight he feels jittery, restless, and no face or body showing up on the screen interests him for longer than a second. It’s all very shallow of course but that’s what you get yourself into when you’re doing stuff like this. So he keeps skipping to the next connection with his chin resting in his hand and a bored expression on his face. No one can see it anyway because he only ever shows himself from the neck down. He’s too paranoid for more and his face, his crooked teeth, it’s one of the things he feels most self-conscious about.

But suddenly he stops thinking, stops his hands and just hovers over the spacebar with his eyes glued to the screen. The first thing he notices is the ink on the boy’s body. Birds above his chest, a butterfly right underneath and the hint of leaves cut off right above the edge of the desk he’s sitting at. There’s more on his arm, a heart, two hearts, a ship and Niall can’t stop staring. He’s so toned and probably works out on a regular basis.

Stranger: Are you from Ireland?

The message pops up right next to their webcam screens and Niall blinks in confusion for a moment, until he remembers that there’s a huge Irish flag on the front of his low cut tank top. It’s what he feels most comfortable in while still showing some skin.

You: You’re a right Sherlock aren’t you?

It’s ridiculous how focused Niall is on the way the muscles in the stranger’s arms work while he types out his next words.

Stranger: Don’t be mean :( Some people wear shirts with flags just for fun.

You: Sry, just fucking with you.

Stranger: Fucking sounds good :))))

Niall shouldn’t be choking on his own spit because that’s exactly what they’re here for but he does anyway, feeling his cheeks and his throat flare up with heat. He bites at his bottom lip and tries to ignore how nervous he is. He has done this a thousand times before, it’s just getting off with a stranger. Granted, this is the hottest one he’s been with so far and he doesn’t even know what the bloke’s face looks like but it doesn’t matter. Niall is hooked.

Keep reading

Hey guys! Guess what? Steph’s doing things!!

Like writing for a change!! I’m off until Tuesday so the goal tonight is to finish the final chapter for “Knights” (something I am both excited and sad about) and since Episode 14 only has about two parts left, I’m hoping to have that done and posted before the new episode airs on Wednesday. Also, depending on how angsty I feel, I might throw a new entry of “Diary” in there somewhere.

Additionally, I’m only 7 followers away from 1,000 (like….what even???) and I plan to officially post my writing challenge by then!! I’m super excited to get some great new things to read from all of my incredibly talented writer friends!

And finally, I’m planning to make an official post for my Fanfic Commissions sometime in the coming days. Now that I have finished my first one for @dontshootmespence, I can show you guys exactly what you will be getting. I’m super pumped for them and I can’t wait to get started!!

So if you would like to be tagged in either my future writing challenge or for the post about fanfic commissions (or if you have any questions), let me know!! Love you guys :)

Originally posted by sunshinemgg

Here is some MGG laughing and being adorable.

Meet Me on Sunday


Sarek’s first month as science attaché to the Vulcan consulate on Earth is a disaster, causing him to question his future as a diplomat. When he inadvertently offends a young schoolteacher, he sets in motion a chain of events that will shape the rest of his life… and hers.

Rating: Teen and up Audiences
Category: Amanda Grayson/Sarek
Words: 116,907
Status: Complete
No Archive Warnings Apply

Origins | Eventual Romance | Interspecies Awkwardness | Friends to Lovers | Interspecies Relationship(s) | Cultural Differences | Getting to Know Each Other | Canon Het Relationship | Canon Backstory

Honest to god Wade is me

Something that happened in one of my classes
  • Teacher: Raise your hands all those who read at least once every other day.
  • *Several students raise their hand*
  • Student 1, whispering to student two: I don't think fanfiction counts...
  • Student 2: *Lowers their hand in shame*

I love every fanfiction author on earth !!! Thank you so much for using your own time to provide us with a free(!) story to read that is 10x better than every book I have read put in one!

For long fic writers: Your detailed fics are so amazing and you amaze me every single time with the amount of research and time you have put into your beautiful works! Whether I am looking to kill time or just want something to distract me you have provided me with that, and I am so glad we have writers like you!

For short fic writers: Your fluffy/angsty/smutty/all of the above fics are so nice to read after a long day! When I just need something small because I don’t have the energy for something long, you wrote something for yourself and shared it with us, and I am so glad that we have writers like you!

If you write fluff; Thank you so much! I love reading your self-indulgent fics. They are so sweet and adorable and those characters definitely would do that.

If you write angst; Thank you so much! I love reading your painful fics. I’m always excited to see how it will end and if things will ever get better.

If you write smut; Thank you so much! I love reading your own fantasies(or realities, or just what you chose to write). They make me smile and blush.

If you write romance; Thank you so much! I love reading about my otp falling in love over and over. Even if it is cliché, it’s also unique and I’m still  surprised each time.

If you write about platonic relationships; Thank you so much! I love reading about my favorite best friends and siblings. You bring something not often seen and your courage is amazing.

If you write crack; Thank you so much! I love reading your random fics. They make me laugh time and time again and even if they are weird and ooc, they are amazing too.

If you write anything else; THANK YOU SO MUCH! Whatever it is you write, it is amazing and I love it. 

I know my singular opinion doesn’t mean much when there are millions of people on this earth, but I want it to be heard!


Fanfiction authors are people who write as a hobby. They’re not paid, they do it on their own time, and they do it for fun. Some authors use fanfiction as a way to improve their writing, but unless they ask for critiquing comments, don’t be that person - even if you have good intentions. You don’t see the damage that you do, but damage is done.

The best way to encourage fanfiction authors to keep doing what they’re doing is to let them know what you liked about their work. I’ve seen too many fic authors get discouraged in their writing because of people who leave less than favorable comments on their work. Leave the critical comments for people who get paid to write. 

Again, I’m not asking you to lie to spare the authors feelings, I’m asking you to just refrain from leaving a negative comment. 

hey yall. i just realized something.

this is probably gonna be long but whatever. stick with me.

soooo im currently rereading the original pjo series. and i am feeling. so many. things. i realized a lot of things too.

okayyy so in PJO, we view percy as reckless. stupid. always acting on impulse. basically that dumb guy that never thinks befire doing things. BUT in HOO, we start viewing him as mature and smart and strategic and all that. But he didnt grow THAT much. Percy didnt age that much in hoo.

Remember that iconic scene (Mark of Athena, i think?) where they meet some kind of monster/bad ppl (im too lazy to search it up) aboard the argo II and it was percy that thought of saying that Dionysus was with them? Percy knew about their fear of dionysus, and how he turned them inti dolphins. So he got some diet coke as “proof” that he was there and asked frank to turn into a dolphin. Genius, right?

Annabeth called him smart after that.

That was the only time we considered him smart. (Well not ONLY, just one of the few times.) But guess what? He’s been doing smart shit like that for years already.

I cant really mention all of the times he did something smart/wise. If i did it would take me days before i finish typing.

So i realized why we only thought he was smart in hoo but not in pjo.

In PJO, it was in first person, so we saw everything through the eyes of percy. In this series, he only focused about how stupid he was, about how great other people were and how better they are then him. But he doesnt focus about all the good/smart/wise things he’s done. Percy doesnt know that he’s smart. All he knows is that he is stupid, worthless, and all other negative things.

in HOO, however, we were reading from another person’s point of view. We saw percy from another person’s eyes. We noticed things that he doesnt notice himself.

Hazel called him a god, once, because he was just THAT attractive. Everyone else looked up to him, and thinks he’s the most powerful/strongest person to exist.

But Percy doesnt know that. All he knows is that he’s stupid.

SOOOO, long story short, Percy hates himself.

Ok bye sorry if this was long I just love Percy so much and i a m f e e l i n g s o m U C h

 I can’t stop thinking about how if you’ve only seen the Les Mis musical, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between real subplots in the Brick and fanfiction….Because the Brick’s actual real subplots sound exactly like fanfiction

I mean this “fanfiction” is actually a canon book subplot:

Javert and Marius team up buddy-cop style to take down a deadly gang of criminals who are planning to ambush Jean Valjean.

 Marius very predictably screws everything up (because he’s a DORK why did Javert give him a gun?? Why did he give him two guns?????) So Javert has to save the day practically single-handedly. He does this by making snarky comments and saying badass one-liners until this armed and deadly gang is so afraid of him that they just lay down all their weapons without putting up a fight.

 Valjean escapes in the confusion (to Javert’s extreme disappointment) but all of the gang is arrested….with the exception of Montparnasse, because he’d ditched his lookout duties to flirt with Eponine.

The next morning Javert goes to Marius’s house to tell him How Much He Screwed Up. He arrives to find that Marius isn’t there…. because he’s literally packed all his bags and moved houses to avoid talking to Javert again. 

Javert isn’t really surprised. You kinda get the feeling that things like this must happen to Javert a lot

this is all actual canon

Dark’s voice in fanfiction: “His voice deep and gravelly, yet sophisticated and enthralling, luring people in like a deadly siren, etc.”

 Anti’s voice in fanfiction: “w͠h̢at t͘e͜ f҉ook d̶o y̢e ҉wa̵nt t̴h̶is̕ ̛ty͞me ͘ya͢ ̵ars̵e͜ piec̵e͟ of shi̸te̵? foo҉kin͡'͞ ͞c͟irc͞l̡e̢ş ̀i͠ tel̸l ya͞,̷ ̡jeasu͝s͝ ͘chri̢st͏🔪🔪🍀”