#It's my first fanfic

[queer-brainrot]

i just had a small idea for a short jercy fic and it's turned into a word monster

[iwantteaandsleep2403]

I'm currently trying to write a sickfic for Tang Yun and Hall

But idk if I'll ever finish it because I'm also sick and writing it purely for self-indulgence

[evadingreallife]

(By trope-specific i mean for example all the slash fics hosting websites, or the nsfw-only ones, etc)

[thatskindarough]

“‘I just…I thought you might like to come back, one day,’ Crowley said very quietly. Aziraphale’s foot pressed against his again, and Crowley drew in a sudden breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing properly since Aziraphale had stopped touching him.”

This piece was a commission from the lovely @fellshish for their lovely friend, @alphacentaurinebula ‘s fic What Are You Doing Here? This fic is cute, funny, heartwarming, and incredibly spicy, and I’m very much looking forward to finishing it! Thank you Fells for being wonderful to work with, and happy (belated) birthday to you Alphacentauri, I’m very happy I could do this for you!

[sativateez]

☆ texting bf!ateez while they’re on tour

- i saw ateez last weekend and miss them so bad so this is how I cope 😇

warnings: kys joke, swearing, reader is a freak tbh, some nsfw?

- requests are open for multiple groups pssttt !!

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

I'm so!!!!!!!! Fucking!!!!!!!!!!!!! Excited!!!!!!!!!!!! Because!!!!!!!!! My fanfic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Has like 200 hits!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And 20 kudos!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PEOPLE LIKE MY WRITING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[catgrandpa]

Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.

Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.

Plot Removed.

Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!

Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.

Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.

Just a phone call.

In 5 hours.

…

Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.

Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.

Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.

Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.

It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.

This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-

Assess the situation.

A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.

Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.

Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.

No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.

Dragging claw marks.

Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.

A trail of dirt.

Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.

Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.

He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.

As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.

In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-

No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.

Hope only brings heartbreak.

What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.

Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.

Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.

Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.

“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.

Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.

“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.

“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”

Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-

“Robin!”

Robin jerks to a stop.

Tim reached out his hand.

“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”

Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?

Hope only brings heartbreak.

His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.

His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.

“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”

A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.

“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”

Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Is That A Promise? (Venom One-Shot)

Eddie Brock x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Telling you about Venom does not go entirely how Eddie planned.

CW: mentions of monster fucking, Eddie is oblivious and a dumbass (I think I have a type)

Venom Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You’d known Eddie Brock a good while by this point. You’d started dating him a while back, and while he put others on edge, you’d found the way he talked to himself out loud rather charming, actually. 

At first, you weren’t sure if he was just unmedicated, or undiagnosed. But then the news broke about the symbiote, and then there was the footage. And when Eddie started coming home right after news broke of some other attack or taking out of a bad guy or criminal or whoever, you’d put two and two together. 

It was kind of hard not to. Particularly as his conversations with himself could vary from topic to topic in the span of six words or less.

 

Eddie had asked to meet up for lunch today at your favourite restaurant. He’d seemed a bit off on the phone, and given how prone you were to anxiety, your immediate thought had been that he was breaking up with you and that you’d done something to upset him or his bodily guest- who you did not officially know about, of course. 

You’d gotten there early to prepare yourself for whatever shitshow was about to follow and to your immense surprise, Eddie had shown up pretty much right after you. Eddie was always running late, so this change in pace was also mildly concerning. You were not sure how this was going to go and you did not like that one bit. 

“You’re here early, too,” Eddie had said, swallowing thickly and avoiding eye contact. You nodded, and cleared your throat, gesturing for him to sit down at the table opposite you. 

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure we had a spot,” you replied, smoothing down your shirt. Bit of a nervous habit. That and ripping at your nails, but that was beside the point. 

“Right,” Eddie replied. 

And then the two of you lapsed into silence. You spent a good five to ten minutes appearing to read over the menu as if this wasn’t a regular spot for you and you didn’t know exactly what you were going to order. In fact, you’d be surprised if the cooks weren’t already making it up for you even though a waiter hadn’t come over yet. 

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed quietly. You peered over the menu to eye him curiously, one brow arced in question. 

“I didn’t say anything, Eddie.” 

“Yeah, I know. I- uh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You hummed, and put the menu down to give him your attention. 

“About me shutting up?” 

“No- God, this is not going at all like I planned.” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. 

You said nothing, waiting patiently for him to work out his wording.

 

“I really like you,” he started, and you nodded, replying with the same sentiment. “And, well, there’s something I’ve been hiding from you.”

 

“Right…” This is where you expected him to tell you he was married (doubtful but not impossible) or had cancer or something terrible. Dear God, please no. 

“Look- you’ve seen on the news, yes, the, uh- the attacks. Yeah?” 

You nod. Ah, so he was finally telling you about his friend living literally rent-free in his body. Okay, you could relax a little. 

“He’s me. Venom, he lives in my body. He’s in my head. Like, all the time. Right now.” 

Eddie looked at the table where he was picking at the tablecloth. You were silent for a second, and Eddie clearly took that to mean you were horrified or disgusted or something. You were a little nervous about it, sure, but you’d also been living with him for the last few months. If Venom was planning to take you out, he would have done so by now, surely. You figured this to mean you were safe enough. You’d also seen your fair share of monster porn, so you weren’t exactly unkeen on the idea of dating someone who sometimes had a monster body. It was kind of hot, actually. You shook the thought out of your head and tried to focus.

“Oh, yeah- I knew about that,” you replied, and the way Eddie’s head snapped towards you was almost comical. 

“You what?”

 

“Yeah, I figured that out a while ago. I was just waiting for you to tell me in your own time.”

 

Eddie blinked, and a black residue appeared on the back of his hand. It swirled and gathered on his hand before reaching for you delicately. You met it, brushing your finger over it softly. The goop (for lack of a better word) seemed to shiver pleasurably and you smiled.

 

“Can I meet him later?” 

Eddie nodded, watching the interaction with disbelief. He’d thought that you’d go running and screaming through the doors or something, not be rubbing your fingers over Venom like you were fingering some Play-Doh. 

“Y-yeah, later,” he agreed. “Not here. When we get home.”

 

You grinned and the black substance retreated back into Eddie’s skin as a waiter appeared by your table. 

“What can I get for you? The regular?” 

You looked at Eddie and clicked your tongue thoughtfully. 

“The usual with a serving of chicken nuggets on the side, please.”

 

The waiter nodded, scribbled it own on his pad and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. Eddie looked at you in question. He knew you weren’t big on nuggets. 

“They’re for Venom,” you explained, propping your head up on your palm. Eddie looked to the side as if listening to something carefully. 

“Venom says thank you-” Eddie said before cutting himself as Venom said something else in his head. “No, I’m not saying that. No. No.” 

“Say what?”

Eddie sighed defeatedly- something you think he did a lot when it came to Venom. 

“Venom said he could kiss you right now.” Eddie looked mortified as the words left his mouth. You burst into laughter. 

“Is that a threat or a promise? I hope it’s a promise,” you replied, wiggling your eyebrows at the two of them. 

Eddie swallowed thickly and blushed as Venom said something else. You’d have to see if Venom could swap hosts sometime. It would be nice to have a conversation while out and about like that. 

“Promise,” Eddie replied. 

Good.

[writeouswriter]

My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

[needypisces]

there's only so much a body can work out, a body can do

Art Donaldson was exhausted.

He was playing tennis for hours a day, exams were coming up, and with Patrick calling from a new time zone every week, he was barely getting any sleep. Even sliding facedown onto the bed next to you offered little relief for his aching muscles.

You let out a sympathetic cluck at his frustrated sigh, dropping your book and winding a hand into his shaggy hair to scratch reassuringly at his scalp. “Poor baby,” you said. “You’re wound up way too tight.”

He didn’t reply, but you could hear his exhale into the mattress. “You need to relax.” You continued, twisting a loose curl around your finger.

“I’m not so good at that.” He admitted in a muffled voice.

“You just need some help.” You paused for a moment, eyeing the tension in his shoulders, the slight arch of his back. “Why don’t you lie down?”

Art tilted his chin up to look at you. “I am lying down.”

“On your back.”

He scanned your eyes briefly before obeying, shirt riding up his toned stomach in the process. “Like this?”

“Yeah, just like that.” You agreed. You sat beside him and he shifted slightly to maintain better eye contact, bringing up an arm to rest behind his head. The movement drew your gaze to his taut bicep, and you couldn’t resist bending down to bite it, just barely hard enough to sting.

You smiled into Art’s skin at his surprised inhale, but you were the one caught off guard when his other arm swept you seamlessly into his lap.

“Hey!” You said, sitting up straight. “Hands to yourself.” He pouted, hand still gripping your hip, but you weren’t joking. When you started to lift yourself off, he caved.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He said, propping himself up with both arms now. “You’re in charge.”

“Don’t forget it.” You warned. He watched, chastised, as you dropped your own hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up until it bunched at his collarbone. Then, finally, you leaned down to kiss him.

Art was a needy kisser, always waiting for you to guide him, chasing your mouth with his own any time you tried to pull back, whimpering when you licked at the inside of his mouth. You loved kissing him, loved how much it worked him up. He was still a teenage boy, after all.

Once you could feel him properly hard beneath you, you began to descend, teeth scraping his jawbone, his collarbone, his nipple, followed soothingly by your tongue each time. Art’s abdomen was tense beneath your mouth as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his ribs, his navel, his hips.

The tip of his cock was already sticky when you pulled down his boxers and grasped him in your fist, and you wasted no time in leaning down to tongue his slit. Normally you’d tease him much longer, make him beg, but right now, you just wanted to make him feel better. Art could hardly believe his luck.

You pumped the base of him with one hand and cupped his balls with the other as you suckled at his head. A whine escaped from high in the back of Art’s throat, and it only encouraged you to swallow more of him down.

“Oh,” he gasped, hips bucking into your mouth. “Fuck, please, please.” You moved a hand to rub his thigh reassuringly, a wordless promise, and lowered yourself further until your nose nestled against his pelvis. Art was panting desperately above you, the noises so sweet you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding down against his leg. He moaned at the feeling of your wetness, which only spurred you on more. For a while, the only sounds in the room were your slurps and gags against Art's cries.

Before long, you could feel the familiar signs of his impending orgasm, and you popped off. It took Art a moment too long to comprehend that you were speaking, too mesmerized by the string of drool connecting you to his dick.

“Where do you want to come, baby?” You asked again, hand continuing your work. “Hmm?”

“Is this a trick question?” He asked between shallow breaths.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Art’s chest flushed pink. “No.” You promised, ducking to mouth at his balls. “Anywhere you want. Do you want to come in my mouth? On my face, or on my tits?” His face was beautifully unforgettable when you glanced up, eyes dazed and cheeks glowing as he tried to form a thought. “Come on, princess, use your words.”

At that, Art’s cock twitched in your grasp and you took him back into your mouth, tongue working at the underside. “On your face,” he finally said above you, and your stomach swelled. “Wanna come on your face.”

“Okay, baby,” you murmured. “Anything for you.” You pulled off long enough to soak two fingers in your spit, simultaneously gulping him back down and pressing the pads of your fingers behind his balls. Art clenched down and let out a strangled moan as you rubbed over his hole. You teased him with the tip of a finger, nudging at the muscle but not quite penetrating him, soaking up the mewls that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna- you’re gonna make me come,” he panted. His thighs were quivering; he was so close, the tension ready to drain from his body. You gave an encouraging hum, swallowing around his cock, and Art’s gasp broke into a sob as he came. You kept him in your mouth for a moment, letting yourself swallow just a little before pulling off to let him splatter onto your face. Art’s whimpers were delicious as he watched himself coat your swollen lips, your long lashes.

“Good boy,” you cooed, fist still working his cock even as he began to flinch from the overstimulation. “That’s it, does that feel better?”

Art’s head was tipped back as he struggled to catch his breath, but even still, his eyes refused to move from the mess on your face. You kept your eyes on his as you lowered your mouth once more, lapping at the dribble of cum down his cock. He started to whine in protest, it was too much, but you took pity and let him go, rocking back on your heels.

“So much better,” he whispered. “That felt so good, I needed it, thank you."

“Good.” You said, licking your lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

[cryptid-cave]

Currently thinking about a reader who, while having a full-time job and playing the part of a “real adult” pretty well for the most part, is still kind of lost and pathetic. It feels less like they’re living and more like they’re surviving, getting by on their own with just a cat for company.

Enter John Price, who’s currently on medical leave and just itching for a project. Maybe reader works at a store near his home that he shops at almost every other day, or works at the library where he goes when he needs to get out of the house. Either way, he spots this pretty little thing who clearly needs some love and guidance, preferably from a strong, gentle hand - and who better to do that than him?

Anyways, save me bossy and demanding Price with a savior complex, save me

[silkhy-john]

“You already left kudos here” and the passive agressive “ :) ” like okay??? Yeah and so what about it? What if I want to leave 2 more? Or 5???

[moonyflesh]

🐾 Cat Scratches - [James “Logan” Howlett x Reader]

WARNINGS: lots of fluff, brief mention of neck kisses, some suggestive comments but nothing past PG

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (Wolverine, MARVEL/X-MEN)

🐾 .*.. 🕯️

Logan laid comfortably on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your lower back and hips as he buried his face into your abdomen, the bare skin of your tummy visible just slightly underneath your sweater.

Lazily scrolling through your phone, splayed out across his bed with him on top of you, your fingers trailed over his upper shoulders, scratching the fabric of his white compression shirt, rubbing his sore muscles from a long day of training and battle practice.

As your fingers trailed upwards mindlessly on his back, your manicured nails finally reached the nape of his neck, teasing the edge of his hairline.

Scrolling down further through your instagram, you let out a soft sigh of content as your fingers finally buried into the hair on the back of his head, eliciting a low rumble from the back of his throat.

You perked up at this, glancing past the dimmed screen of your device, an eyebrow quirked upwards at his reaction.

“You alright, Lo?”

You muttered out, a small, curious smile tugging at your glossy lips, damp from your teeth gently biting at them out of unconscious habit.

“Mmmh,”

He responded in a low hum, leaning into your fingers as you smiled, a small, amused chuckle leaving your lips at his fingers that slid lower on your back, cupping the backs of your thighs with a slightly possessive grip.

You felt a soft, warm press of his chapped lips against your stomach, just above your panty line, and a small laugh left your lips as he buried his nose further into you, inhaling without hesitation. In response, your legs opened slightly underneath him, wrapping them around his broad midsection with a light squeeze.

Preferring the man in front of you opposed to the celebrities on your phone, you dropped it at your side, letting it become lost in the fluffy, unkept sheets next to your form as both your hands wrapped around his head, burying your fingers into his scalp.

A low, animalistic-like growl left his lips as you scratched through his hair, meeting the place behind his ears, where you knew he was most sensitive.

Tracing over the area where his jaw connected to his ear and neck, you let out a low hum in response, tilting your head propped up on one of his pillows to the side, your eyebrows knitting together lightly in curiosity at his pleasant reactions.

“Feels good, bub. Right- mmh. There.”

Your eyes narrowed at his borderline inappropriate hum, and you nodded, wordlessly continuing to scrape through his fluffy, unkept hair.

“I didn’t take you for a cat, Logan,” You teased quietly, a small vibration leaving your own form, similar to that of the buzz of an old stereo.

“Don’t mock me, sweetheart. Can’t help it,”

He shot back, his furry eyebrows knitting together as he finally shifted, pulling himself up further, allowing his face to move from your stomach to your collarbone, trying desperately not to go full deadweight on you, knowing he’d crush your frail form.

“Plus, ever since you got yer nails done-”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you raked through his head of hair once more, pushing his face into the warm skin of your exposed neck, muffling any protest from him.

“Stop talking, James. Sleep.”

You effectively hushed him, a small smile pulling at your face as he grumbled out something along the lines of ‘mm. Whatever,’ and ‘fine.’

You felt him pepper a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth teasingly biting down on your exposed shoulder, before lapping at the new mark with his tongue, admiring his work with your taste.

“G’night, bub.”

You smiled at his subtle acceptance to your demand, your fingers frozen in his fluffy hair and partially in his long side shaves, nodding.

“Goodnight, kitty.”

[ejsuperstar]

Imagine you live in pelican town. The new farmer has been here a couple weeks now and seems to be settling in, except... He's picking the weirdest friend choices. Like sure it's not weird to befriend the local fisherman, especially when he has an interest in fishing himself, but you're pretty sure you've seen him rooting through the Saloon's garbage with the local homeless man. As well, he keeps harassing the poor guy who works at Joja even though you KNOW he doesn't want to be friends with him.

And since you're on the topic of weirdness, isn't it odd he seemingly runs everywhere at a full sprint? Or just... Eats entire raw fish while fishing for "energy reasons"...

...

Despite all that, it's too early to call him off putting or anything... He has been engaging in town traditions, and he's started helping out with the old community centre. He's probably like the rest of you. Someone with a few quirks, that will fit in with the valley great!

Surely he can't get any weirder... Right?

[fluffyartbl0g]

Holy crap this is like world record breaking pace guys

Speedrun/Time Travel AU masterlist