Sometimes...things that are softer...are worse.

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[softboywriting]

Softboywriting Masterlist

Current Pieces of Work Listed: 259

Other Places You Can Find Me: AO3 | Wattpad 

Shawn - Raul - Peter (Mendes) and Non Specific Works

Triple Frontier 

Star Wars 

Ex Machina

The Punisher (Netflix)

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[cannibalchicken]

[cheshire-cat-lenalee2]

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Congrats to you! These prompts are fun:

“a kiss that isn't meant to happen but it does anyway” for Bateman please??

Part of Youvebeenlivingfictional’s 3K Follower Celebration When I tell you that this one got long and explicit Warnings: Cursing, explicit sexual content—kissing, fingering, mentions of oral sex; 18+ readers only

“I need to ask you a favor.” “I’m not giving you the number of my current therapist, Nathan. I like this one and you caused the last one to have a psychotic break.” “That was never proven.” “Alright, what do you want?” “Could I finger you?”

Nathan asks it as casually as he’d ask you to pass a napkin. You freeze, your fork in your hand as you blink owlishly at him. Nathan’s not even looking at you—he’s aggressively peppering his food. “...May I ask your purpose?” You manage, finally. “I need some notes on vaginal contraction during orgasm. Digital simulations only help so much.” “I see.”

“You’d be doing me a favor.” “Oh,” You scoff a laugh, leaning back in your seat, “Is that so?” Nathan glances up at you, brow furrowed a touch. “It is so," He insists. “Right. You can’t just fly to, I don’t know…Any major hub and get on Tinder?” “It’d be all over the internet within an hour and I don’t need that. Besides, I have to be able to take notes. If I open up an excel sheet after going down on someone, they might get offended.” “Mhm...So. Once, twice, what?” “At least twice. I might ask to get my mouth on you, too.” “For what, exactly?” “To catalog different responses to varying stimuli.” “...Right,” You mutter. “Look—” “No,” You raise your hand to stop him, “It’s okay, I know it’s um…I get that it’s work. Just…Can I think it over?” “Of course.” He pauses, then adds, “It’d be mutually beneficial.” You’re an inch from shivering some rice into your mouth when he says so. “What?” You ask. “You’re wound so damn tight, you know. An orgasm or two might help.” “...Well, thank you for that,” You mutter before shoving the rice into your mouth. “Anything to help a friend.” You meet Nathan’s eyes again and shake your head at the devious little smile on his lips. --

“Pull the excel sheet up.” “What?” Nathan asks distractedly, eyes still set on his screen. “I’m horny. Go wash your hands, I don't know where they've been,” You order as you pull off your shirt. Nathan freezes and turns to look at you. You just flop back onto his bed. “Hop to,” You add, lifting your hips and wriggling out of your sweatpants, “Or I’ll get through all the fun before you get back.” You can’t help but laugh as he springs out of his chair and runs out of the room. You’ve never seen Nathan Bateman move that fast in your life. --

Some part of you expects Nathan to muscle up to you with a pen and pad at his elbow. Instead, he kneels between your legs. “Relax,” He urges. “Mhm, because that’s what everyone wants to hear when they’re in bed with someone that they’re not familiar with.” “We’re familiar,” Nathan’s argument is murmured as he runs his hands up the insides of your thighs. Your stomach flips at the ease of the touch, and the curiosity that he watches you with. “Not like this,” You shake your head. He chuckles. “No, not like this.” He looks over your face before he slides up to lay down beside you. “Tell you what,” He says, leaning over to pick up the remote from his bedside table, “Let’s just watch something.” “Are you seriously Netflix-and-chilling me right now?” “No, we’re relaxing. I don’t wanna record the results under stress. Now, just,” He waves the remote at the tv before dropping it between your legs, “Pick something.” --

The two of you get halfway through the movie.

You find yourself talking and bickering the way you always do, and you hate to admit it to Nathan, but it does relax you. You find yourself sinking into the pillows, focused on the movie, the conversation. Now and again, you’ll remember that you’re laying in bed with Nathan, naked save for your bra and underwear. But when you glance at Nathan—when you expect him to make a comment about how hot someone in the movie is, he says nothing. At least, he keeps it to himself. But as a steamy scene starts—one that you didn’t realize was in the movie—you feel Nathan’s breath rush against your shoulder. You pull in a breath as he drops a kiss to your bare shoulder. You keep your eyes fastidiously set on the screen as Nathan inches closer. His hands skims warmly over your breasts, down your torso, gently shushing you as your muscles go a touch tense. Nathan slips his hand under the band of your underwear, and you find yourself biting down on your lip. “Is this alright?” “Mhm,” You nod hurriedly, “And if you tell me to relax again, I swear to god.” Nathan chuckles softly against your shoulder. His fingers smooth gently over your lips, parting them with his fore and ring fingers before circling your clit your clit with the pad of his middle finger. You feel your eyes slipping closed. Your stomach begins to swirl with a heady mix of arousal and anticipation. You swallow thickly as you find yourself chasing the touch. “Your um—” You hear yourself mumble. Nathan hesitates in his ministrations, slowing the pressure, waiting for your notes. But all you manage is, “Your fingers are really—big.” Nathan hums as he continues to tease his finger over your clit before trailing it a little lower. You can feel him smiling against your shoulder. “You’re wet,” He tells you. And you know—you know that you are, but hearing him say so makes your body flood with heat. You nod just a little bit. Nathan goes on, “Was it the movie?” “No.” “Were you thinking about what we were going to do?” “...Yes. And it’s been a while since I’ve—I mean…Since anyone else touched me, you know,” You mumble. You suck in a sharp breath as the pad of his finger teases at your opening. You wriggle down, trying to press into him. “Go on,” He urges. “What?” “Ask.” “For—For what?” “Well, among the search terms you’ve searched on—” “No. No no. If we’re going to do this and you wanna make me cum, you can’t bring up the intimate knowledge that you have of my—” You turn your head. You hesitate as your lips brush Nathan’s. “...Of my search history,” You mumble. Nathan’s eyes search your face, from your eyes to your lips and you want to damn him—you want to damn him for his calculations, but you know that his hand where it is because of his work. “Alright,” He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. Somehow, it makes your stomach surge with more heat than anything else that he’s done thus far. “Good,” You mutter, “So don’t—Don’t make me ask.” “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Nathan reassures, shaking his head a little before licking his lips. He’s close enough that his tongue brushes against your lips, too, and you feel your pussy clench around his fingertip. Nathan makes an interested little hum. “You gonna write that down?” You can’t help but snip, and Nathan laughs a little more openly. “You want me to get up and do that right now?” He asks, palm brushing against your clit. You groan, closing your eyes, unable to stand the way Nathan is looking at you. “Don’t you fucking dare, Bateman.” “You want me to stay here?” You want to mimic back to him—I won’t make you do anything that you don’t want to do—and it’s true, he isn’t. But you find yourself wanting to beg your boss to make you cum. The thought makes your pussy clench around his finger as he eases it the rest of the way in. “Shit,” You breathe as your hips jolt, “Is this the kind of—the kind of evidence that you needed?” “It’s a start,” Nathan murmurs, turning his head and nosing along your cheekbone, “I did say I wanted to do this a couple of times, maybe

get my mouth on you.” You whimper, eyes squeezing closed more tightly. “Please,” You mumble. “Hm?” “I—I want you to eat me out, please.” “I'm afraid I can’t do that right now.” “Why not?” You whine, pressing your hips down against his fingers. “Well, I need to measure your responses to varying stimuli. I’ll need at least one sample of your response while I’m fingering you, a separate one while I’m eating you out—we could combine the stimuli at a later date, of course…” As he’s laid out of his plans, he’s eased another finger into you, palming your clit with more pressure. You roll your hips more sharply into his hand. “Alright, goddamnit—Shut up, stop talking, stop talking,” You whine, bumping your shoulder against Nathan’s. In your effort to jostle him just a touch, your foreheads knock together, your lips skating across one another’s. You hesitate before you lean in just a little more, pressing a gentle kiss to Nathan’s lips. You’re certain that he’ll lean away, tell you to focus, but Nathan presses in, slipping his tongue into your panting mouth. You suck it as Nathan’s hand picks up speed. You can’t help falling apart the way you do, with the tremendous speed you do. You’re tightening up around his fingers and whining against Nathan’s lips before you can warn him. The two of you trade slow, steamy kisses as your body untenses and sinks into the pillows. Nathan gently eases his fingers out of you, resting his hand over your mound. You can feel the slide of his damp fingers smoothing over your lips as you relax, as your heart pounds in your chest, your breath pushing against Nathan’s lips as he draws away. When you finally find it in yourself to open your eyes, you expect Nathan to be watching you in that sharp, careful way. Instead, his eyes are as gentle as they are calculating. “...Good?” He asked gently. “Mhm.” He gives you another moment before he smooths his fingers over your slick lips again. “Shit,” You breathe, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “How soon until you're comfortable enough to?” “I—I don’t know.” “How long’s it usually take you?” “I’ve never timed it.” Nathan glances at the clock on his bedside table as his fingers begin to swirl around your clit again. You watch, stunned, as a grin grows on his lips. “First time for everything,” He murmurs before he dips his head, lips pressing to yours.

[brandyllyn]

Yes Nathan. For science. Obviously.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Nathan has this printed out and stuck to a cork board in his office.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Wired

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only

Notes: Hello and welcome back to the ‘Dany Meant for This to Be Short’ Show! I’ve been watching too much Ink Master and here we are. Not beta-read because it’s not.

Tattoo Artist Nathan Bateman AU

Length: 8.5 K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff, needles (in relation to tattooing), possessiveness, tipsiness, explicit sexual content—body worship; thigh fucking/grinding; hand jobs; unprotected sex.

Summary: Nathan Bateman is the leading tattooist in the biomechanical style. He is unbookable unless you’re referred or manage to get into his good graces—and apparently it’s hard to get into his good graces.

“You’re really set on this?” Jimmy asks. Your brow furrows a touch. Jimmy’s your go-to tattoo artist; he knows that when you decide you want a tattoo, you can’t be budged. You nod, and Jimmy looks down at the list of ideas that you’ve laid out.

“Here’s the thing,” He sighs, “I can do this, but there’s someone who can do it better.”

“Okay?”

“You heard of Nathan Bateman?”

Keep reading

[foxilayde]

Nine [Poe Dameron x fem!Reader]

Warnings: *looks you dead in the eyes* Bitch if you only knew how long this has been in my drafts. Nearly two thousand words of cunnilingus, piv, one tickle fight, alien alcohol consumption, mixed metaphors, and the projection of sexual/emotional desires onto the best pilot in the resistance 18+ ONLY.

Summary: Idiots in love. You’re the idiot, mainly. You happen to hear something quite salacious about your bestie. And oooh boy, are you awful at keeping your shit together.

Word Count: 15.7K 

There are some things you can’t unhear. Tidbits of information that just fuck your whole day up with the implications. Specific ideas or mental images, solicited or not, that take form in your brain and proceed to run through your mind like a fathier on a racetrack. Oh Maker, you wish you could unhear this conversation. Because you know, you know after hearing all that… you’ll never be able to look at Poe Dameron the same way again. At least not for a long, long time. 

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You really didn’t. You were in the stall peeing, minding your own business for Maker’s sake and they just happened to come in and have this conversation. This was on them, not on you. What were you supposed to do? Cover your ears and hum to yourself? Bolt out of the toilet without washing your hands? 

You were just having a normal, routine, piss in the cantina bathroom- spotchka going right through you, as per usual… and that’s when you heard them. Maker, you wish you’d never heard them. 

Voices coming from the sink area.

Keep reading

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Wired

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only

Notes: Hello and welcome back to the ‘Dany Meant for This to Be Short’ Show! I’ve been watching too much Ink Master and here we are. Not beta-read because it’s not.

Tattoo Artist Nathan Bateman AU

Length: 8.5 K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff, needles (in relation to tattooing), possessiveness, tipsiness, explicit sexual content—body worship; thigh fucking/grinding; hand jobs; unprotected sex.

Summary: Nathan Bateman is the leading tattooist in the biomechanical style. He is unbookable unless you’re referred or manage to get into his good graces—and apparently it’s hard to get into his good graces.

“You’re really set on this?” Jimmy asks. Your brow furrows a touch. Jimmy’s your go-to tattoo artist; he knows that when you decide you want a tattoo, you can’t be budged. You nod, and Jimmy looks down at the list of ideas that you’ve laid out.

“Here’s the thing,” He sighs, “I can do this, but there’s someone who can do it better.”

“Okay?”

“You heard of Nathan Bateman?”

Keep reading

[thisishellfire-deactivated20230]

Second Times A Charm | Sugar Daddy!Nathan Bateman x F!Reader (Part Two)

Last Chapter / Series Masterlist

Synopsis: Nathan Bateman came into your life so quickly it felt unreal, over the course of three weeks - things have gotten deeper, you have been craving more. But little did you know, Nathan has been too.

Warning: M/F Sensual Situations, Slow Burn, Language, Pining

Rating: R

Author’s Note: You know an obsession with a character is bad when you full fledge by the ultimate addition of the movie off of Amazon…

Word Count: 7.4K

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

Keep reading

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Rubber Ducky, You're the One

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only

Notes: The fic based on this post. Taking a break from working on my finals to post this 😂 I hope y’all are having a good weekend! Not beta-read

Length: 5.3K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, fluff, explicit sexual content—piv

Summary: The last time he got roped into one of these celebrity auctions, Nathan wound up spending six stupefying hours with a Kardashian, trying to explain why they couldn’t launch their own crypto, ‘K-Coin’, without plans for a public exchange. This? This is way more interesting, but just as mystifying.

His publicist makes him drop in on at least one public charitable event a year. Nathan is taking the fact that he’d been signed up for this celebrity auction again as a signal that he’d taken too long to pay his publicists’ fee (he really had to pass those things over to his accountant). Regardless, Nathan finds himself on the way to California for the auction. He can’t be too mad—not yet, anyway. Not until he knows who he’ll be stuck with for six hours. It’s for a good cause, anyway. Six hours—

“It’s for a good cause,” Nathan mutters to himself as he does up his cuff links (because he cannot, as he asked, just roll up in a pair of khakis and a polo), “It’s for a good fucking cause.”

–

The bidding is a blur—Nathan hardly catches on the number that he goes for, and he doesn’t particularly care. He’s vowed to match the donation, but unless someone’s managed to bid his net worth, he doesn’t think it’ll be an issue. Nathan is directed off of the stage, gives the crowd one more wave, fights the urge to flip the moderator off when he’s praised for, “Being such a good sport.” As he goes backstage, he lets his PR rep direct him toward wherever the bidder is waiting for him. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting a particular type of person: well-dressed, pristine, maybe a little nerdy (but that may be hoping for too much), and obscenely rich, like himself.

But who he meets isn’t who he expects.

–

Keep reading

[moon-kn1ght]

the morning after

pairing: young!duke leto atreides x gn!reader word count: 1k rating: explicit warnings: p in (something) sex; marking kink; one night stand that becomes something else; we love tugging on curls in this house; unbeta’d and written in two hours or so; a/n: i just wanted to write something new for this man. this is pre-Jessica in the dune timeline. check out my masterlist !!

The last thing you expected in the training room this morning was to be confronted by Duke Leto Atreides.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“What?”

“You left last night. You didn’t say anything.”

Oh. There’s no lie there--you did exit unceremoniously from the Duke’s chambers after you two had hooked up.

There was something that felt uncouth about spending the night without prior negotiation. Adept negotiation was what led you to his bed that night (or maybe it was just a few drinks and lost bets, but you felt like quite the winner when he was spilling his load across your stomach).

And he looked so peaceful when he fell asleep, it would have been a crime to wake him to ask if you could stay.

So with limited options, you slipped out his door with no whispered goodbye, no “find me tomorrow” note. Just a hurried jaunt back down the Caladan corridors to your own shower and bed.

But the Duke catches you off guard with his statement. After that Oh escapes your mouth, he raises his eyebrow and you can almost see the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. Just maybe.

“Um, well,” you stutter, “You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Leto stares and nods. His brown eyes catch just the right amount of light to sparkle in the room's atmosphere. There’s something mischievous to their sparkle in this moment though.

“Okay,” he says, nodding once more and turning out of the room.

--

The day passes quickly, and it’s anything but good. The Head of House Atreides’s negotiation skills did not pay off today. In fact, they led to another leader’s trade emissary walking out of the room.

Sometimes you can’t play hard to get, you think to yourself. Rumor has it that the Duke is not in the best mood this evening, apparently he ordered all the servants out of his wing of the palace.

So you are, needless to say, quite surprised when Leto comes back into your training room for the second time today.

“My Duke, what are you doing here?”

“Spar with me.”

He removes his formal coat as you wrap your knuckles. You try not to stare at the shape of his broad shoulders and his arms as he unbuttons his dress shirt to reveal his white under shirt. Even though you watched him remove the same articles of clothing last night (in a much more formally erotic context), there’s something intoxicating about watching him complete this ritual now. It send a spark of

“Is there a bet on the table this evening?” you question, stretching your arm across your body.

Leto’s eyes rake across your body and you let out a slight chuckle, “I hope you won’t be too distracted sir, I am not looking for an easy win.”

A quiet hmph escapes the Duke’s lips, “If I win, you have to do what I tell you; If you win, I’ll do whatever you want. Sounds fair?”

“Usually I like to set terms and conditions on my bets, but I trust you Leto.”

He shines a devious grin before he launches himself at you. Normally it’s a fair fight -- he might have some muscle on you, but you’re skilled. You train more than him, but tonight, that’s a disadvantage. You’re tired from a day of training with other people.

The Duke is fueled with frustration and is channeling that into a desperate fury to trap your body against the mat.

Unfortunately for your competitive attitude, you lose the spar, squarely. You tap out on the mat as his forearm presses against your windpipe.

“Are you sure?”

His breath is heavy and quick, and so close to your face. In the blink of an eye, you think back to the feeling of him inside of you last night, and his broad chest pressing you deep into the mattress. His beard could almost scrape against your face and you just wish it would.

More intentionally than not, you press your lower body against him. You can feel his cock straining against his pants. His body emanates heat and it’s perfect.

“Yes,” you speak plainly, almost against his lips.

He wastes no time in taking his gains. He closes the final distance and presses his lips to yours. His kisses are hungry, like he’s been waiting all day for the relief of your body. Maybe you have been too, you reach up and thread your fingers into his hair, moaning into his mouth.

He moves his mouth, biting at your bottom lip then moving down under your jaw to suck a mark into your pulse point.

You can’t help but whimper a yes into his neck at the sensation of this mark. He kisses over it and then whispers into your ear, “Maybe I should leave so many marks on you that you can’t possibly leave my chambers until they’re all healed?”

Fuck. (That would be nice).

You signal your affection for that idea by tugging on his curls and directing him back to your mouth. You kiss him deeply, opening yourself up for further exploration.

Heat rolls through your bodies like wildfire raging. Even though you’re still on the training mat, you peel off layers of each others’ clothing and allow him to sink his cock into you for the second time in 24 hours.

There’s something so perfect about how he feels inside you -- his warmth fills you in unimaginably perfect ways.

As he works himself and you to climax on the floor, he leans in to whisper once more, “Tonight, will you stay the night?”

You barely register your whimpered yes as you fall over the edge of pleasure.

(It’s not the only climax Leto brings you to that night).

[writefightandflightclub]

Oh my god they were roommates (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN!reader)

Summary: Santi’s a terrible houseguest… until he isn’t.

Warnings: nudity; mentions of eviction (Santi is never in real danger of “eviction” here and he knows it - they are buddies - but warning all the same); steamy making-out (kissing, undressing) and implied oral (fade to black, reader receiving).

Author’s note: POSTING THIS SUPER QUICKLY SO SORRY IF THERE ARE LOTSA TYPOS! a super quick, fairly light-hearted thing! It has some silliness and then some steam 😊 (Yes I’m still ignoring my actual WIPs and spewing out other things. Oops! I have some much more involved Santi works on the go but for now, pls accept this humble offering which has been done hurriedly before I dash off out!).

Rating: MATURE - sexual themes / steam

GIF: @abelslittlebunny 🧡 (yes I know it’s not Santi but hey)

You are not okay.

You throw your face into the couch to muffle a scream.

You are sweating.

You just saw Santi in the nude.

Full frontal.

And full rear-al.

You’d been nagging yourself to fix the bathroom lock before your long-time buddy moved in with you.

Well. Evidently you hadn’t.

You emit another silent, strangled groan as you hear quickened footfalls down the stairs.

“I’m so sorry. Thought it was locked,” Santi gushes, coming hurriedly down the stairs. “Are you okay?”

Are you okay?

Wait - why is he asking that? Is he accustomed to such extreme reactions to his junk?!

“Mm-hmm” you say, your statement somewhat unconvincing since your face is still buried in the couch cushion.

“A little traumatised, huh?”

You hear a fucking belt buckle being fastened.

If he’s still only partially dressed, it’s probably safer not to come out yet, right? In fact, you are seriously contemplating moving out of your own damn place and never coming home.

Santi’s voice is closer now. “I’ll go to the hardware store today and-“

“You have to move out! Santi! You have to go!” you yell, near incomprehensibly as the couch muffles the sound.

Santi sighs - obviously getting frustrated.

“Sweetie?” he prompts, and when that doesn’t coax you out of your ostrich hole, he gently jostles your shoulder. “If you’re evicting me, can we at least have this conversation face-to-face?” Another jostle. “Huh?”

The heat in your cheeks since you caught an eyeful somewhat subsiding, you loosen your iron grip on the cushion. Gently, Santi teases it out from under you and reluctantly you sit up.

Well. This isn’t what he promised - talking face-to-face. Now you’re crotch to face, and you’re decidedly not having a good day.

The fucker put on his pants, yes, but clearly he put them on so fast that they’re loose - low-slung around his hips. And you just know he’s not wearing any underwear.

Desperate not to follow that thought all the way through, your gaze travels up, and you continue to get more than you bargained for.

Santi’s bare chested, still damp from the shower, beads of water still clinging to his skin here and there, and to the tight, dark curls leading down beneath his jeans.

Oh boy. The knowledge that Santi has salt and pepper hair there is something you could have done without, in all honestly.

Still, in search of a safe spot, your eyes travel up his abdomen, over the swell of it, little rolls of soft flesh at his hips and tummy. Your eyes travel up further yet, over his infeasibly smooth, tan chest. The pendant nestled safely in between his pecs and hardened nipples, and chain swinging from his roped neck.

Lastly, his shoulders, rivulets of water snaking over the broadness of him as his dampened, grizzled curls drip, fresh from showering.

Ugh.

You actually whimper.

You cannot do this.

“You have to move out, Santi.”

“Uh. Okay...” He’s nodding, but he looks at you in utter confusion, lifting an arm to scratch the crown of his curls.

He did just get here. Three days ago. You’d said it was okay. You’d been quite emphatic, actually.

You sigh.

You sigh and your gaze naturally resets to eye level, then - fuck, you’re in this hellish crotch to face predicament all over again and you simply cannot.

Can you screw your eyes shut? Would that be weird?

“I don’t know. Can you maybe go and live with Benny or something because you and me… maybe… maybe it’s not gonna work out,” you say a little too fast, your voice tightly strung.

Santi’s shoulders slump dejectedly at that. He rasps a hand over his stubble as he thinks, and shuffles from foot to foot. “Okay…” he says, sombrely, dropping his voice. Using one hand to tug down the crotch of his pants, and looking uncomfortable - he mustn’t have dried off properly there either. You swallow thickly at that thought. “Or, maybe we could talk about what’s really going on here?” Santi offers calmly.

Unfortunately, calm is the opposite of you.

You stand suddenly, and you pace around the room, arms flailing and gesticulating wildly at him, launching into a tirade of complaints. “You put all your dishes in the dishwasher as soon as you’ve used them. You’re ridiculously tidy…”

Santi’s body revolves to face you, as you navigate a semi-circle around the floor, and his eyebrows leap up in ever-increasing confusion. “Hold up. You want me to leave because I’m a good houseguest?”

Okay, that one was reaching.

But you’re digging yourself a hole here and you don’t see any option but to keep going.

You let out a petulant exhale, your arms rising and slapping against your sides with your breath. “No. No. I’m not saying it right,” you whine, folding your arms now in frustration. That’s not quite right - not it at all. “You… You wake up earlier than I do. And… do you have to be so damn thoughtful? Bringing me tea? Setting out my mug and cereal bowl before I come down for breakfast?”

Santi looks more confused by the second, his eyebrows making all kinds of shapes now. Finally, his brows draw down and he shakes his head. “You want me to be more of a dickhead or something? Baby, who the shit hurt you?”

He chuckles in disbelief, but that only seems to wind you up more rather than defuse the situation. Clearly, you are not seeing the funny side.

“And then!” you screech, voice raised another octave, your eyes wide and your hand gesturing wildly up and down his body. “You’re NUDE! In the SHOWER!”

Yeah. Wow. Nude in the shower. The audacity, huh?

Well. Safe to say, Santi is thoroughly bamboozled now.

“Well, sure,” he nods condescendingly. “Kinda easier to wash that way, cariño.”

God. Why is he not listening? You stomp your foot, and Santi waits patiently for you to be done.

Are you done?

There you go.

With nowhere else for your altogether flimsy complaints to go, you bury your face into your palms and emit another, half-silent scream.

“Hey, come on,” Santi soothes, using the opportunity to slip forwards and gently clasp your forearms in his warm hands, encouraging you to lower the barrier of them down from your face.

His voice is soft and his umber eyes trail over you in concern. You look at him apologetically, a watery sheen misting your eyes. “Okay. Wanna tell me what’s really going on? Huh?” he asks, dipping his chin down and looking at you from beneath his lashes, brows lifted and furrowed expectantly.

Fuck.

You wish you could cover your face again as ridiculous tears ball in your eyes, but Santi is still grasping your arms so gently, and speaking with you so gingerly, that it would seem a little rude to tear yourself away from his touch.

You take a long, slow, calming breath, and Santi nods encouragingly.

“It’s stupid,” you insist.

His full lips twitch in subtle amusement. Honestly, how much more bizarre can it get? Whatever it is, Santi is ready for it.

You tug in a deep breath, and Santi begins to smooth the pads of his thumbs up and down your arms.

“You’re… sweet,” you admit, not knowing where the sudden tremble in your voice has come from. “You keep being all considerate and thoughtful and pre-empting my needs. You keep making me laugh. Your thighs are amazing to lay my legs over when we watch TV. You look adorable when you wake up and your curls are all… the way they get. And then…”

Santi is still looking confused as all hell; but he’s listening carefully. Trying to understand you. “And then?”

“And then, you’re all… nude. And, I can’t fucking take it.”

He shakes his head. “You’re losing me, sweetie,” Santi indicates generously. Honestly, did you ever have him? You’re not making a lot of sense, to be fair to the man.

Ugh.

Okay, here goes nothing.

“You’re HOT, Santi,” you admit. “You’re in my house being all hot and sweet and perfect and I can’t.” Santi blinks a few times, looking satisfied at the compliment but still - bless his heart - trying to slot all of the pieces together. “You’re giving me thoughts… and…” -has all the air gone from the room, suddenly?- “And feelings, Santi.

Oh.

Oh.

Well, there it is, all laid out.

Thoughts. Thoughts and feelings.

Santi’s mouth forms a small “o” and yet no sound comes out. He does manage to move, however, all of a sudden dropping your forearms as if they’re a hot potato and taking a discernible step back from you.

“So. Do you see? You have to go. Because I thought I could do this but I was so wrong. I saw your dick. And it was… very nice.” Jesus- when did your voice get so husky? “And… I’m doing my best but how can I be expected go on like this?”

Yes, perhaps you’re being just a tad dramatic.

Santi suppresses a smile, with great effort, as you slap your palms to the side of your face like an Edvard Munch painting with the horror of what you’d just admitted to him.

Santi, for his part, takes it all in his stride (maybe he really is accustomed to these kinda reactions to his junk) and nods slowly as he thinks, scuffing his hand back and forth through his sprouting, grizzled stubble. “You’re right,” he nods, finally.

Wait. You are?

Because it really didn’t feel that way at any point when you were just speaking.

“I’m a terrible houseguest. Respectful. Clean. Entertaining. Endowed.” Santi, chuckles smugly, so help you. “So maybe I should go…”

You furrow your brow. You emit a telltale, dejected whimper.

Oh boy.

You’re the confused one now.

Santi extends his hands forward to cup your elbows, warm against you again. “But… you should remember, sweetie. You’re hardly the perfect landlord here either.”

Hold up.

Aren’t you?

Your jaw drops open and you are about to express indignation, but Santi’s now smoothing his warm, broad hands subtly up and down your arms, gradually inching his shirtless body closer to yours and all thoughts you’ve ever had or might ever have leave your head forever.

“You hog the couch,” he complains, his tone syrupy and thick with warmth despite his words.

Santi slips his arms around your waist, now smoothing up your back, and drawing his bare chest closer to you. He feels warm. He smells good.

You think you might spontaneously combust.

“You leave your clothes everywhere. You cook like a tornado. And you keep me up at night with your late baths and terrible music.”

He’s looking at your lips, even as they form a gentle “hey” in protest.

Santi moves closer again, until the heat of him is pressing up against you, his hips sturdy against yours.

“But do you know the worst thing?” he asks with a lazy flash of teeth.

You shake your head wordlessly, suddenly grateful that his arms are holding on to you, else you think you might be a puddle on the floor as his robust, warm voice filters over you.

Then, his flash of teeth widens, and he dips his head directly towards the shell of your ear, his stubble deliciously grazing your cheek.

You exhale a stuttered breath.

“You wear far too many clothes,” he whispers, and the words shoot straight to your core, a scorching heat galloping across your cheeks and down your neck.

Ever so deliberately, Santi grazes his stubbled jaw along your throat, his lips dipping to ghost along your collarbone, and then, he pulls back, to check-in. To see how you’re doing with the situation.

Well. How are you hanging in there?

You try your best to speak, but you appear to have temporarily lost all of your faculties. Lord knows why.

Nope. No idea.

Then, Santi’s come-to-bed eyes search yours, before his face cracks with an entirely disarming smile. “Need a minute to scream into a pillow again, hermosa? Because, believe me,” Santi purrs as he raises his forefinger, tipping your jaw closer to his inviting lips, “that can be arranged.”

You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as your lips magnetise towards one another, and you open up for Santi’s warm, freshly minted tongue to confidently shove over yours.

Oh, the bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you - and he’s loving it. Especially as he bucks his hips towards you, showing you he’s even more endowed than you had caught a glimpse of earlier.

“Fine,” you concede, giddy and trembling from that kiss. “You can stay, Santiago.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks into your neck, in-between sliding his tongue over the contours of you.

“But you’re gonna have to do something about the clothing situation. The score isn’t close to even.”

And, as Santi begins to unfasten the buttons on your shirt, one-by-one, tracing his conscientious tongue over the ridges and peaks of your flesh, you concede.

He might just be the perfect houseguest.

In fact, as his tongue slips below your waistband -as soon as your affirmative is granted- you have no doubt that he can stay, for as long as he damn well likes.

[braggadoodledo]

Lol drowning in bills and the job search is coming up empty because I've been too sick to work for the last year.

I have about $600 in bills to pay or imma be evicted and I seriously can't be homeless again. Not to mention i need $65 for an eye exam because im literally going blind and I won't be able to even freelance anymore if I don't get glasses soon. And my paypal is negative nearly $30. I have no idea what happened but I keep getting threatening emails from PayPal saying they're gonna send me to collections orz

If you donate and tell me your @, I'll shoot a message and ask what you'd like me to draw for you ♡

Paypal

Venmo

Cashapp

If you can't debate, please consider reblogging.

$0/$665

Rent: ~$300

Thought I should include screenshots since some people find it necessary to come in my ask box and call me a liar.

[anetteaneta-deactivated20220911]

4 with Nathan please!!

Nathan Bateman [Ex Machina] x F!Reader

A/N :  I couldn't sleep because the idea was hovering in my head all night. I hope you will like it! It’s just scribbles. Of course, my inbox is waiting for your suggestions for stories and characters. Thank you for any feedback, comments, reblog and likes. I’m sorry for all the mistakes!

Warnings: swearing; mentioning sex and masturbation; fluff but +18

You put your coffee mug on the desk and turned on your computer. After nearly six weeks of vacation, you felt almost like a novice, but as soon as the screen brightened you immediately noticed a flashing new message icon.

"Fuck." you muttered softly under your breath noting that all these messages were from Nathan.

Your boss has been extremely prolific during your vacation, that's for sure. Maybe you shouldn't really have pointed out to him that calling you while you were trying to rest was a bit out of place.

"It's not even a fucking vacation!" he groaned "You came to do some errands for me, and visit familiar places and family by the way. I don't know why, but..."

"Nathan!" You cut him off sharply, "It's two in the morning! I know you don't give a shit about time zones, but think about me. I have a meeting with your contractors tomorrow. Record yourself or something, but let me sleep."

So Bateman decided to record himself. And he sent you all these videos on e-mail. Usually he did this when he was working at night and wouldn't wake you. Back then in the morning you were going through such tapes and writing a transcript.

So you took a sip of your coffee and went to work. After almost two hours you were not even a quarter of the way when suddenly Nathan's tone of voice changed.

You glanced at the screen and saw a flickering clock in the background. It was well past midnight, and Bateman's eyes shone much more intensely.

Yeah, he was drunk. This wasn’t new to you, but it made it difficult to take notes, as his statements were then becoming extremely elaborate and chaotic.

"You should be here." he said, reaching for a beer bottle, "Talking to the webcam instead of you, it's like... I don't know, masturbation instead of good sex. You know what I mean! It works and it's good too, but it could be better, right?"

You giggled and turned on another record.

Bateman was sitting in the living room now, or rather lying on the couch, and for a moment you thought that he was napping, and the camera went on accidentally.

After a while, however, you heard his voice.

"It's nonsense. Fucking nonsense." he scratched his nose and let out a loud groan, "Martin was just writing to me how delighted they are with you. Ohhh! Such a smart, funny and beautiful woman. How could a woman like that decide to stay with you in this fucking wasteland?" a laugh escaped his lips with a mixture of contempt "I have no idea. No fucking idea."

You started to wonder if you should watch the rest of the videos. It was possible that Nathan didn’t control what he was doing. He was just drunk, he was talking weird stuff and you shouldn't pay attention to it. Right?

The next few recordings were about work. They were professional, as if he was speaking directly to you. You took quick notes by glancing at your watch.

Your stomach was slowly curling up with hunger, and your legs were numb from sitting at your desk. But you did have a couple of recent recordings ahead of you. If Bateman was in good shape, they were quick and concise.

The inside of his lab and Nathan working on some device appeared on the screen. You loved watching him work. His fingers were incredibly agile and precise. Working for him was like foreplay with a lover, he once said. Maybe he was drunk at the time.

"Fuck." he muttered without interrupting his work, "You should be here. You won't get any more days off, forget about it. You can rest here if you have to."

He looked directly into the camera for a moment, and you felt shivers down your spine. Nathan looked at you like that a lot. It was as if he was scanning you with his eyes and seeing not only your body but also your emotions and thoughts.

"I need you, woman. Not only here, but...everywhere. Fuck."

He put the device down and walked around the table where he was working. You saw him reach for the water bottle and take a few sips, wondering about something.

"What if you don't come back, huh?" he said again, "What if what you have here - work, space, nature, peace... What if that isn’t enough? What if I keep you with me for my own selfish reasons?"

Bateman chuckled softly and leaned against the desk.

"As long as you got here, I knew.... I fucking knew it wasn't just a job. We're just human beings after all. But you were so professional, maybe a little embarrassed by all of this, but there was something wonderful about you. I don't want to sound cheesy, but I need you to know how I feel. "

You shifted in your chair and stared at the man on the screen, waiting for his next word. However, no confession was made from his lips, and the movie was over.

There was no other recording. No more messages from Nathan Bateman in your e-mail.

"Fuck!" you cursed under your breath and got up quickly from your computer.

What was he trying to tell you? Is that why he hardly spoke to you since you got home? He hid in his lab, plunging into work, and you were left alone with it all.

Nathan never hurt you. Yes, he was rough and irritating at times, but you handled him very well.

So you couldn't leave it like that now. You made your way through the hallways of his house very quickly and punched in the entry code for his lab's door.

Bateman was sitting at his computer working, but on one of the screens you saw the image from the camera in your room. So he watched you, he knew you saw the tapes.

"Nathan..." you started, but he quickly interrupted you.

"Have you written down everything? I'd like to go over those notes later."

His voice was calm and emotionless.

"Yeah, I did it." you nodded and walked closer, "Nathan, these tapes weren't just about work stuff, though."

"Did I send you some porn?"

"W-What? No!"

"So what's the problem?"

"Did you miss me, Nathan?" you had to put everything on one card.

"Bullshit."

"Oh, okay."

The silence between you was incredibly loud. Bateman didn't even tap keys on the keyboard anymore. Instead, he stared at the screen as if there was something extremely important there.

"I was drunk." he said finally.

"Not always. Besides, you could have deleted the tapes. I don't think that's a problem for you. Nathan... Look at me."

A little reluctant, but nevertheless he turned and focused on you. He looked like he was challenging you.

"You said you missed me, that you wanted me to be here with you, that you had feelings for me..."

"So?"

"Did you really mean it all?"

"What if yes?"

That's what Nathan was like. He explored the terrain before jumping into deep water. You were going to give up, you were going to be the first to say what you felt.

"Do you know why I left?" you asked at last, feeling your stomach tighten with fear "I felt overwhelmed. Because of you. I was afraid that work and what I felt couldn't go hand in hand. You’re an asshole, Nathan, but you never hurt me. I love working for you. and I adore you. Even if you pretend everything you said is worth nothing. "

"Listen..."

"No, you listen. I really missed you and this place. But I don't want to keep pretending that nothing’s happening between us because I... I really feel something." your voice broke, but you didn't give up "But if you said what I heard was bullshit, I don't think I have anything to fight for."

You didn't wait for his answer. You turned and started walking towards the door. Only his hand grabbing your arm made you stop.

In an instant, Nathan turned you over, pushed you against the wall, and pressed his lips against yours. It was like gasping for breath. His hands gripped your face tenderly as a warm tongue slid into your mouth. You groaned softly, feeling his body press against you.

Your head was empty. You could only feel his lips, the warmth of his body, the scent of his perfume. Nathan Bateman consumed you with his whole being.

He puts his forehead to yours and strokes your lips with his thumb.

"I really meant it all. I've missed you... I don't want you to leave me again. I need you."

"Really?" you choked out.

"Yeah. You're the missing piece of it all. And I adore you more than you can imagine."

"It's some kind of madness."

"There can be some sense in madness too."

You giggled lovingly stroking his beard and brushing his lips with yours. This theory made sense.

★   ★   ★    

Love Confessions Prompts

If you have an idea or a request for any character, my inbox is waiting for you.   ➡️ write to me ⬅️

★   ★   ★      

Tagging: @aellynera  @wasicskosgirl @mylifeliterally @multifandomlife22 @lostgirlheather @whovianayesha @phoenixhalliwell @spider-starry  @writefightandflightclub  @imananxiousdriver @veuliee @softly-sad  @geo-winchester @stanningtoomanythings  @theautisticjedi @starryeyedstories @revolution-starter @heythere-mel @cyberdreamlandwriting @autumnleaves1991-blog  @itspdameronthings @damerondjarin @be-the-spark-flyboy @no-droids-on-sunday @woakiees @mssarahpaulsooonn @mariesackler @klaine-92 @takemepedropascal @michaelperry @ntlmundy

[thisishellfire-deactivated20230]

I Dare You | Sugar Daddy!Nathan Bateman x F!Reader (Part One)

Series Masterlist

Synopsis: 15.8M followers, Forbes top 100 richest people under 45. Hey Nathan Bateman, I dare you to buy me this.

Warning: Language, Nathan Bateman, M/F Sensual Situations

Rating: M

Author’s Note: I want to say thank you to the beautiful @youvebeenlivingfictional​ for this post they made! I hope that you don’t mind, I got inspired when I saw this! All credit goes to them for this idea!!

Word Count: 5.3K

Oscar Isaac Character Taglist

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[freelancearsonist]

Completely Yours Tonight

Duke Leto Atreides x fem!Reader

Rated Explicit for explicit sexual content, polygamy, swearing, pregnancy and childbirth, and lots of angst

10,618 words

A/N: this is the longest fic i’ve ever written and… there’s a lot to unpack here. 😂 it’s basically straight angst but it at least has a kinda nice ending??? pls pls pls leave feedback because i’m nervous about this one and i wanna know what y’all think 😂 special thank you to @aellynera​ for beta reading this monster of a fic 💛

Your mother warned you on your wedding day that you shouldn’t get your hopes up.

You wish you had heeded her advice.

Of course, you knew what you were getting into. You knew this marriage was strictly to join alliances with House Atreides. The Duke Leto didn’t love you, and he had no interest in marrying you aside from the political gain that your union brought him.

Still, you hoped. You hoped that he might grow to love you. You hoped that he might want you beyond the political advantage.

Keep reading

[freelancearsonist]

my dumbass forgot to add on the leto part of my oscar tag list so:

@mimisalad @millllenniawrites @darklingveracruz @waatermelon-sugaar @helga1031 @witchyavenger @recklesswit @collectorofexperiences @kat-r-in @marvelousmermaid @twomoonstwosuns @shakespeareanwannabe

pls enjoy 💛

[no-droids]

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here.  This is like.  You remember that one game, Mercy?  The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous.  Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares?  It’s child’s play.  It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

Keep reading

[no-droids]

Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

Part Two of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.5K DONT say shit alright just don’t

Warnings: Okay. There is degradation in this, some name calling and heated interactions. There is a LOT of smut, dirty talk and rough sex. If these things offend you, please do not continue reading.

***

It’s recommended to read part one first.

***

Getting into the x-wings is always fun.

It actually might be your favorite part.  Granted, alarm bells ringing and thousands of jumpsuits scrambling in all directions is never typically a good thing, but there’s also an inherent rush about it, a thrill in launching up the metal paneling as quick as you can and suiting up to provide aid.  It’s a side-effect of camaraderie, of being surrounded by like-minded individuals willing to do everything they can to help.  You never feel like you’re going to your death, even though that’s often the grim reality for at least one of you on a good day.  There’s always a roaring in your ears while you do it, adrenaline sharpening your senses and preparing yourself for conflict, not thinking anything beyond gogogogogo—

But getting out of the x-wing is… not great.  At least for you.  It’s sluggish.  Your body is always completely drained and you never come out of it feeling the same way you went in.  Even in times of victory, there’s a somberness inside you after battle.  As much as you tell yourself you’re fighting for good, for prosperity against an evil machine hellbent on enslaving the galaxy, there’s only so many explosions lighting up in front of your eyes and screams cutting out through your comms you can take before winning just doesn’t really feel like winning anymore.  Most pilots are able to handle it better than you are, but since you joined the Resistance, you’ve never truly felt the desire to celebrate.  Not even when you serve a massive, glaring defeat to the other side.  There’ll always be at least one missing x-wing, one empty seat at the table, one person not here to celebrate with you.

You came back in one piece this time.  Barely.

Keep reading