#beta reader search

[sneakyxthexclown]

Looking for a Beta Reader?

Hello everyone! As someone who is obsessed with fanfic and writing in general, I wanted to post an official announcement that I am available to beta read fanfiction for others! I can help with the following:

Brainstorming/outlining

Content/plot

Character development

Flow/transitions

Grammar

Word choice

Proofreading

Self-esteem boost

And anything else you request!

I prefer to read for fandoms that I know very well, so I have included some below, but feel free to request me for other fandoms as well. I've also included some ships that I prefer to write for, but I am willing to beta for fics that include other ships as well:

Helluva Boss (Stolas/Blitz)

Hazbin Hotel (Angel/Husk, Charlie/Vaggie)

Doctor Who/Torchwood

Good Omens (Crowley/Aziraphale)

Hannibal (Hannibal/Will)

X-Files (Mulder/Scully)

Supernatural (Dean/Castiel)

Sherlock (Sherlock/John, Moriarty/Sebastian Moran)

Hunter x Hunter (Kurapika/Leorio)

Sailor Moon

Loki (Loki/Mobius)

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Les Misérables (Enjolras/Grantaire)

If you are interested, feel free to message me over Tumblr with the details of the fic!

[phy-be]

BETA READERS SEARCH

Hello everyone! I am looking for beta readers for my historical fantasy novel, A Drink to the Monstrous. 🩸 It's 100k words long, and you would be asked to fill in three feedback forms over the course of your reading. 

Pitch: 

Paris, 1901. Sasha Rousseau knows how unkind the world can be to the monstrous and the queer. That’s why she opened the Alcove, a club where anyone is free to be themselves — except vampires. These are creatures of appetite. Where they lurk, violence follows.  Sasha can cast her share of protective spells, but she’s yet to find one that can pay her rent. When she is offered a ridiculous sum to help solve a murder, she usually wouldn’t hesitate. It’s life-changing money — enough to buy the Alcove. But this offer is coming from Isadora Valori: a whip-smart, ambitious, infuriating wretch. And the one vampire Sasha loathes most of all.  Isadora has no memories left of what happened between them, centuries ago; Sasha intends to keep it that way. If she can keep her secrets and her temper, she can solve this case, get paid, and never see Isadora again.  That is no easy feat with the obsessive loathing beating in her chest. Especially when it seems that though Isadora does not loathe her back, the obsession is very much mutual.  But with woundless corpses piling up and a murderer capable of poisoning memories, solving this case may awaken more dangerous ghosts than old betrayals.

Come for the unhealthy immortal gays, stay for the wholesome found family ✨️

If you’re interested, clink on this link to sign up 🦇 

[lottielovelace]

If anyone would be down for beta-ing some Valeria x fem!Reader smut, please message me

It’s pretty short (about 2.2k words), but I just want another pair of eyes on it because I fucking suck at writing sucking and fucking

MDNI please

[miscreantahead]

Beta Reader Search for Malevolent Oscar/Charlie Dowd (Holy Ghosts) fanfic.

H E Y Malevolent fanfic readers particularly anyone who may have enjoyed Happenstance or The Unyielding in particular, I'm looking for someone who might be willing to beta read a new holy ghosts brainworm that I'm knee deep in after 2 days of living in a stinky hole and type type typing away. I've known since United ended that I didn't actually get Oscar and Charlie out of my system so I'm taking another shot.

Normally I don't use a beta reader, but this premise is very messy, complex, and requires a strong grasp on season 4 lore and events. My own is mid-advanced and I'm strengthening with a relisten as we speak but I'm still in the market for someone who might be able to correct me if I missed or misunderstood something. On top of that, the premise is like Groundhog Day or Happy Death Day, so it's going to be the similar events over and over again on different timelines and it's a lot to keep track of what happened when, and what information is available when, etc. and I could use some help making sure I don't screw that up. I'm also open to opinions/insight/discussion with beta readers, though I may not always yield I think I'm averagely reasonable.

Honestly I also just think it'd be fun to have a beta reader for once in my life. Willing to pay via paypal or venmo and we can discuss rates, but more interested in someone who has a strong recollection of Malevolent lore and events and a deep passion for the characters (and preferably holy ghosts as a ship) than someone who has experience beta reading. Familiarity with the source material is the most important thing to me here is what I'm saying.

The fic is largely going to be a romance/action with a side of comedy and drama but it does have some darker themes and graphic violence, TW's for this fic will include: major character death (non-permanent, but frequent, and not limited to the POV character, which is Oscar), suicide(with no intention to die permanently, but still depicts the act) and homophobia. The main "relationship" focus is Charlie and Oscar but the fic will heavily broach Oscar and Arthur's relationship as well. I'm Patchratt on AO3.

Not even sure if I'll get any bites for this insanity, but if anyone is interested, send me a message here on tumblr please, or to patchicusratticus on discord.

[twinklerei]

Im writing this satosugu star wars au fic so Im really in need of a beta reader that will help me so please if you are interested dm me or comment here

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Hiii! I'm looking for a beta for my fic for The Show Fest.

• Important tropes or tags you want to disclose: Its a Narry fic, friends to lovers, implied underage sex (17/18), does have some angst and miscommunication, eventual happy ending, will have implied sexual content but no actual smut.

• Is it finished? No, but it should be by the afternoon of the 16th soon

�� How long is it (going to be)? max 10k (current 1.5k)

• Does it have a deadline? If yes, when? by 26th November (will be submitted on the 20th but I can edit it when needed 🥰)

• What do you want your beta to go over? Grammar, making sure the story sounds plausible, characterisation of Niall, making sure it flows

Thank you!!!!

@theshowficfest

[iforimaginary]

Mutual Beta Readers Needed !!!

Heya! I am currently in search of a mutual fanfiction beta-reader with the primary focus being the eradication of SPaG errors or typos in some of my works before they’re posted to AO3, however I am definitely not averse to constructive criticism or general feedback.

Looking for fellow experienced writers, preferably with shared interests who are willing to frequently communicate and perhaps even collaborate on some works!

Fandoms I frequently write for* (not limited to):

• The Magnus Archives

• Frankenstein

• Good Omens

• Hannibal NBC

• Falsettos

*(for a comprehensive list of my fandoms check the pinned post on this blog)

Typically, I write in extracts of approximately 1,000 words that eventually amount to 3,000 - 5,000 word long chapters or one-shots. Whether you wish to beta in short freshly written extracts or in fully completed chapters is entirely up to you! Keep in mind that a good portion of my works tend to touch on mature themes and often contain smut, so please be comfortable with reading over such content.

I also have a pretty hefty backlog of original work that I’d love to have beta-read eventually!

When it comes to mutual reading I’m not particularly fussy, I’d love to beta works of any length, genre or maturity. I am capable of doing simple grammar-focused reads as-well as feedback-focused responses.

If you’re interest, PM me here on Tumblr or leave your Discord in the comments of this post!

[twopoppies]

Hi! To your anon about looking for a beta reader. It may be very hard to find someone, I know it from my own experience. I wrote Tumblr and twitters posts, texted many people, I didn't get any feedback. After months what helped me was texting a blog who often talked to readers or beta readers and they straight up hit them up, like "hi, are you interested?". Some said they're not but I got a call back from three of them, saying they are in fact interested. The account unfortunately doesn't exist anymore so I can't recommend it. Currently I stopped writing a while ago and Im not in touch with anyone who would be interested but try hitting up someone who knows readers or writers. Maybe you Gina know someone who would be willing or know someone who would know such people. The direct contact is the only way that'll guarantee you it's gonna work! Good luck!

Hi, sweetheart. Yes, I agree. Reaching out directly is the best way to get a response. Although, even then, I find people can be very squirrely. I did suggest that @strawberryjamlover look through my beta list. Finding a writing group can be helpful and, if you're not in a position to pay someone, offering a beta exchange can be a way to entice someone. Honestly, if it's not fan fiction, I'd suggest doing some Googling. There are many sites for helping authors find beta readers.

[aphrcditesprls]

new fic alert & beta reader search

heya everyone! icymi: i published a dramione au two days ago. it's set in a world where voldemort was successfully defeated on halloween '81 and hermione granger finds out she's a theo's older sister.

i have very little experience with beta readers but I would love go gave someone. if anyone is interested in being a beta for this work, please let me know ❤️

[mothmerchant]

Beta Reader Search!

Looking for a beta reader for my ofmd multimedia reincarnation fic! I rarely get betas for my fics but I'm really feeling like this one needs one. I'm looking for someone to:

- Spot spelling errors! I'm dyslexic and tend to miss these.

- Help with conciseness and clarity.

- Help with anything thay may feel out of character or feel unrealistic.

- Be willing to bounce around ideas and help me brainstorm!

The fic is currently sitting at 6 already posted chapters, which I would greatly appreciate being read before any beta work is done for later chapters! I'll also be chatting through discord for this fic, so you'll need to provide that :]

You can find the fic here:

[ruinix]

Quinn getting a huge baby fever after he saw you hold your little cousin (or whomever baby)

Hello, lovely…baby fever… yes, baby fever. Ummm, I fear I have…gone overboard again, so it took me a bit. I had to bring out the big guns (my AO3 thots with my fictional men). He almost turned…dark 🤨🙂‍↔️

Trouble

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Masturbation, a dash of Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex (use protection, lovelies), Brief Choking, Use of ‘hubby’ (some doesn’t like it so...🙂‍↕️), Quinn being pathetic as he gets hit with an extreme baby fever

Count: 2914 words | Masterlist

You are trouble. So much trouble. Quinn had to lock himself in a bathroom stall as he stares at his phone, his fingers tapping the video over and over and over again. It feels like a loop. A loop of you and that little baby.

Who is that? Who? But the identity of the baby is the second thing in this mind. You’re the first thing.

Quinn can’t stop watching. Can’t stop hearing your little coos for the baby you got in your arms. Can’t stop seeing the way you brush your cheek against the top of the baby’s head. Can’t stop the squeeze in his chest as you smile at the camera, the light shining behind you so perfectly that you appear to have a halo. Can’t stop feeling your happiness in this ten-second-long video. It makes him happy. Too happy that he had to cover up the little one’s face because he’s…his pants tighten up. Fuck.

Before he could type his reply, you send over a text that had him, leaning back against the door which creaked from his weight. His legs and hands shake. His soul shudders. It feels as though he’s not there. This must be a fucking dream.

Your text says, “When we have a baby, will they look as cute as this little duuuuuude?”

‘When. We. Have. A. Baby.’

When. Not if. When. Like you are stating the inevitable future. Like you are looking forward to it. Like you want him to give you children—or child, fuck, he’ll give you any number of children.

It’s just a simple thought, but it feels like a magnitude ten earthquake causing destruction. You destroyed him in the best possible way. Rattled him so much that he can barely function. He got practice for fuck’s sake. He can’t even tease your extended ‘dude’. He can’t. He can’t think straight.

All Quinn’s thoughts are questions.

‘You want a baby with me? When do you want to have a baby? Do you want to start making one now? Next week? Next month? Next season? Next year?’

‘Are you sure you want a baby?’

‘How many babies do you want? One? Five?’

‘Do you want them a year a part? Two? Three?’

Shaking his head to clear it, his tongue feels dry, his heart beating and ramming against his chest. He could barely ask who’s the little dude, barely understand that dude is your friend’s baby, could barely read every paragraph you sent after about little dude. Of course, he still reads it, despite not being able to process them, because he needs to hear you—at least—as he tumbles down the rabbit hole.

More like plummets.

His mind is clogged with images of you. Your tummy barely showing to fully rounded and full of his baby. You eating for two. You being all clingy or irritable with him—he’ll hug or console you either way. You wearing maternity clothes. Most especially, you holding his baby.

Quinn’s done for. He fucking is.

When you send your “I love you”, Quinn’s hand is already wrapped around his cock, your name escaping his lips in a plea, a revelation descending and dawning upon him.

He needs to have a child with you.

That’s why—for weeks, six weeks to be exact—Quinn cannot stop imagining and wishing the babies he sees in the streets, in social media, in the arena during games to be yours and his.

He has…baby fever. He realized that a week in. It’s weird. Quinn doesn’t think about kids or babies. His plan was to be with you. Just you and him without a doubt. Then after some time, he’ll propose. Then you will marry. Then you two will talk about kids, because even if having kids was not yet his focus, he wants a family with you.

You’re his endgame. He’s sure of it, so he’s moving forward with you. Until you sent the video of little dude—Jeremy, if Quinn remembers correctly—with you. Until he literally can’t stop picturing you and babies. Until it’s the only thing in his fucking mind other than hockey and you. Babies. Cute little babies.

He’s so fucked, because it’s not just the wholesome need for little babies. No. It feels primal.

He gets fucking hard, totally bricked up, wanting nothing but to fuck you until you’re bred. So hard that he had to jerk off multiple times during the day. Bathroom stalls. A janitor closet. Even when he’s home, he has to jerk off, given that you’re not there. He tries not to, but his cock would ache as his thoughts worsen, so he fucking fails. Every. Time.

His fogged-up brain will continuously echo: “Kids, now. Kids with you. Now. Now.”

Quinn thinks he’s losing his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, because the thoughts of little ones—with your eyes, your hair, your smile, your sweetness, your quirks, your gentleness, your everything—makes him yearn for it to be true. His heart aches for every day that goes without them. He needs a family with you. He needs little ones to spoil alongside you.

So for weeks, Quinn wants to breech the subject with you. He wishes to present his new foolproof life plan—that will also be your plan, if you accept. His new plan consist of: lots of fucking to make a baby, him providing for you and your children and possibly grandchildren, him being present for every step of the way, him being a good father. But simply, babies. The plan is to have babies, but the words always stop at his throat.

Because…even if he wants babies, that doesn’t equate to what you want right now. Right? He can’t just do what he wants, can he? Like breed you and—

“Little dude,” you say in a singsong voice, “would look so cute with this, right?”

Quinn looks up and sees you hold up a shark onesie. He can only stare, stare, and stare, because this has to be illegal. This, as in you holding up that onesie just a meter away from him. As in you looking proud of every baby clothing you bought. As in you being excited about buying things not for his baby. He hates it. The sudden disdain—to an innocent kid just because he’s not his—is making him all too riled up now. Why are you spoiling someone else’s baby? Fuck.

“Sure,” Quinn chokes out which he tries to mask with a cough.

He nods helplessly when you grin, a sparkle in your eyes, then you dash across the room to get your wrapping papers, tapes, and somehow, more paper bags. Just how many did you buy for that baby? It’s a fucking haul that makes Quinn irritable and also downright pathetic.

He should just say it. He wants a kid with you. He wants to be a father to your children. Easy words to say, but he still can’t say it. He’s such an idiot.

“I want to help,” he offers as you settle on the floor, scooting your legs under the coffee table, looking so cozy.

“Thank you, Quinn, but I got a wrapping system over here,” you giggle. Your arms are comically filled with stuff before you laid them out on the table. “You always crumple the wrapper, silly.”

Quinn does. He can wrap presents, but it’s a battle. Him against the paper. Usually, he wins but the gifts…they’re wrapped so messily. So different with your gift wrapping. While he’s nonchalant about it, you’re particular. He sees your focus for every fold. He has seen you get upset when you fold one piece wrong or if the ribbon is wonky. He loves that about you.

Still, you give him socks and onesies. Still, you let him messily wrap them. You even smile, looking so proud of him like he’s the best, looking utterly kind and patient. You place what he wrapped on your growing pile.

You’ll be a good mother. Quinn knows that. He’ll do his best to be a good father. He can do that. He can—

He jumps when you suddenly hop over his lap.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, pressing a kiss against his jaw. Quinn can only cling to your hips, savor your touch on his nape, the feel of your fingers running through his hair. “Come back, hubby.”

Hubby? Are you insane? Do you know what that does to him? Who is he kidding? You fucking do. You always do. You’ll be the death of him.

“My Love,” he groans, a bit too whiny in his opinion, but he can’t help it. The effect you have on him.

“You like that?” you chuckle, breathing in his sharp exhales. “Hubby.”

Quinn can only growl in response. You’ve short-circuited him and you laugh at him. Cruel. His cruel Love. He hugs you tighter, grounding himself. This is real. You called him Hubby. Not Huggy. Hubby. Your hubby.

He buries his head into your neck, greedily taking in your scent. God. You smell so good, so addicting like a custom-made drug, just for him.

His cock throbs, wishing to be seated in your pussy, wishing to spill his cum in your womb until it takes.

“Do you want a baby?” He forces out, his voice coming out raspy and broken and desperate. He’s probably blushing, because he’s burning up. Even his fucking eyes sting. He’s going to cry and it’s fucking pathetic.

“Hmm,” you hum, hands rubbing over his chest, soothing him.

One hand runs up his jaw, coaxing him to meet your eyes. Your beautiful eyes track every detail on his face, taking everything like it’s your first time when you’ve already done it hundreds of times.

Then you softly kiss his cheeks, the mole on the right, his forehead, the edges of his eyebrows, his eyelids, his lips. A simple soft peck. One by one until he’s just putty underneath you. His heart pounds but not from fear, for his undeniable love for you. Just like that you settle him.

“Been thinking about that, handsome?” you ask.

“Yes,” he nearly stutters.

“Do you want to have a baby?” you ask, pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose.

Quinn shudders, eyebrows meeting, breaths picking up. “Yes,” he confesses like he’s about to confess guilty and be sentenced to death.

A grumbled ‘fuck’ escapes his lips when you scoot closer, sitting your clothed pussy right over his aching cock. You roll your hips once and Quinn almost comes. Shit. What are you doing to him?

You’re saying something, whispering the words on his lips, but Quinn couldn’t focus.

You’re so close. Oh, so close. Your breaths mix together, making him all so dizzy. He wants to kiss you again, but when he tries to close the smallest distance between you two, you move back. Why are you…

Then he realizes what you said.

“I’ve been wanting your baby for so long, Q. So long.”

You want his baby.

It feels like the last tether around his control snaps.

No longer is he chasing your lips and letting you pull away. No longer is he shaking like a goddamned leaf, choking on unsaid words, yearning and begging to the void. No longer because you’ve said it. You want his child.

He captures your lips, hand slipping through hair, firmly tugging. The way you moan against his lips makes his blood rush his cock. Your hands grasping at his shirt. Your hips grinding against his. Your desperation is a distinct reflection of his.

“Quinn,” you gasp, panting for air. Your pupils are blown. Cheeks flushed.

Quinn groans your name, lifting you to rest you on the couch, him still kneeling on the floor, your hips glued together. He grasps your collar, ruthlessly tugging down. Buttons pop out, fabric tearing. It’s his shirt anyway. He can just give you more.

He doesn’t let you complain, easily capturing your lips, as he continues his rush to remove every bit of your clothing. You try to help, but he won’t let it. He can’t or else he’ll lose it.

He needs this. You need this. Those thoughts keep bouncing in his head as he deepens the kiss. His hand finds your pussy, already dripping. Slipping a finger, your pussy sucks it in, quivering, clenching, leaking. God, you’re so wet. He doesn’t even need to prep you, because you’re already so turned on for him. Only for him. He hooks his finger against your special spot, making you scream.

You’re so ready, aren’t you? Ready to be fucked. Ready to be bred.

“It’s such a dangerous day, Quinny,” you whimper, nails digging into his arms.

You’ve already sent him over the edge but hearing you—those new set of words—makes him spiral deeper into his haze.

He somehow gets rid of his shirt but only pushes his pants and boxers down, before he sinks every inch of his hard and leaking cock into your needy pussy. So easily. So smoothly. So eager and greedy.

“Fuck,” he growls, nipping your lips, blunt fingers digging into your thighs to keep them wide open for him. “You feel so good.”

So good. So perfect around his cock. He watches his cock slide out then back in, shivering at the feel of you, shuddering at your exhales, at how pleasure contorts your beautiful face.

“Quinn,” you say his name like it’s a prayer. “Breed me.”

He nearly comes from that. You’re such a minx. He leans back, fucking harder into you, bottoming out and hitting the spot that has you singing your screams, that has your eyes rolling up as your pussy convulses with tiny orgasms. Christ. He might not last long.

He just wants to fill you up, plug you with his cock so nothing spills. He needs to do that. If he doesn’t, you can’t get pregnant. You can’t have the child you want. The child he needs to take care of, to spoil, to love.

He wraps a hand around your neck. Of all the necklaces he bought for you, it’s his favorite and nothing else, but the sight of the little heart pendant resting on your collar bone, just beneath his wrist, has him snapping his hips harder, rolling to heighten his and your pleasure. Fuck, so good.

“Harder, hubby,” you taunt as tears run down your cheeks. “Please, just a bit upward.”

He follows your plea, hitting the spot you wanted him to reach, getting the immediate reward of you arching your back, pussy clamping down around him as you come. Your cum dribble out with your arousal. The squelching noises and skin slapping are so alluring. Quinn needs more.

Quinn rides your orgasm, prolonging it until you are whimpering and gasping, “I’m coming. Quinn.”

He tightens his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse quicken, pussy tightening. You can only hold his arm, hips raising to meet every thrust that makes your tits bounce. Your eyes roll as you come once again as he controls your air. What a sight.

He finally lets go of your neck, running his hand down your chest, teasing your taut nipples, making you whine, your tummy, until he reaches below your navel. He pushes down, then you scream and come around him again.

Look at you surrendering to him.

“That’s three,” he groans out, slowing down his pace. He rises, resting on knee on the edge of the couch, so he can fuck into you deeper. He hooks your quivering leg over his forearm, watching you bite your lips. “Got more for me, my Love?”

“Please,” you breathe. “Fill me with your cum, Q. Please. I need it.”

That’s his fuel. Your words. Your breaths. Your moans, mewls, whimpers, whispers of calling him your hubby. You, whining for more, more, and more, as he ruts and rolls his hips into your sopping wet pussy. The slight drool on the corner of your lips which he couldn’t fight the urge to lick. Your taste, your feel, your touch, all so divine.

He can’t get enough of you.

Soon, he’ll have little you’s whom he’ll love, whom he’ll play his games for, whom he’ll work hard for, whom he’ll be proud of. He’s already doing these things for you, but that promise will ignite—has ignited—another flame in him.

He’ll have pieces of you and him in his arms.

He can’t wait.

He can’t.

He needs to make it happen.

He must.

He captures your lips, your tongue meeting his instantly. Fuck. He can feel your desperation. You need it too.

Quinn slows, drawing every thrust deeper, losing himself in you until he comes so hard that his sight blurs, so hard that he almost crushes you to the couch, so hard that he whimpers your name because you also come. Every spurt of his cum, a silent prayer, a plea for it to take.

But even if it doesn’t, Quinn has the whole day to plug you up with his cock, to fuck you again with your hips raise to lessen the cum that spill which is fucking inevitable. So, he’s there to give you more.

He has to make sure that you’re full of him. Full of his seed on this dangerous day. So dangerous. A perfect time to breed you, isn’t it?

God, he can’t wait until he’s fucking you with your belly is round with his baby.

[gennabi]

lovesick

simeon x gn!reader • 1.6k

romantic; fluff, very (??) suggestive

[ with the power of intoxication and sleep deprivation, you bare your feelings to each other (not quite directly) , ft. lucifer , i dont write this long usually so sorry if its ass (constructive criticism are welcomed!) ] @stanfordpines-kinnie here it is ( ´∀`)/~~

obey me masterlist | main masterlist

Your eyelashes flutter blearily as you drag yourself across the floor. The night is eerily quiet. At this time, you should at most be hearing the random clicks coming from Leviathan's room. Or the sweet humming of Asmodeus's voice when he takes his late night bath. You shut your eyes, a yawn threatening to rise up your throat. To no one's surprise, you let out yet another for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

Maybe drinking milk or reading something from the library would help. It truly is a bother when you cannot sleep no matter how sluggish your body is turning into. You descend the stairs. Faint thumps resounding through the hallway.

Creak.

There's someone else up at this hour? You make your way to the source: The kitchen. Is it Beelzebub? Classic. The lean shadow enters your vision first, whoever is in there not bothering to turn on the the lights, and you could confidently deduce even in this half concious state that it is definitely not the buff Avatar of Gluttony.

A familiar mop of black hair turns to you, red irises giving you a lookover before he closes the cabinet. Your gaze lands to the three bottles in his hand. Alcohol. Right.

"Couldn't sleep?" Lucifer's deep and smooth voice tugs you back to reality, a soft smile playing on his lips. You shake your head. He exhales, the sound amused while his free hand reaches to gently pat your hair down into a slightly neater form. "Care for some company then?"

When Lucifer brought you to his room, you weren't expecting another figure. And certainly not someone from Purgatory Hall. There's a flush to his dark skin, eyes blinking slow and draggy then widening when you emerge from behind the door. His limbs are stretched long above the width of the small deep red chair; His head and arms craned at a weird angle on one armrest with his legs dangled on the other. More liquor sits on the table nearby, empty.

Simeon's mouth forms an 'o' before he hiccups, "My lamb! You're here." He straightens his back, about to stand before Lucifer's fingers gently apply a pressure on his shoulders down, the angel's form easily following the motion and sprawling like lava back to the chair. The demon sets down the Demonus bottles from his hand to the table. Walks past to the record player on the other side of the room. A comfortable silence passes as he slids out more of his vinyl collection, fingers padding and rustling between them.

You crouch down to Simeon, a grin on your face as he mirrors your expression. Reaching out, your hand combs through his hair and he hums a beautiful sound. His eyelids droop time to time from your ministrations before you murmur. "Sorry for bothering you and Lucifer's bonding time. I didn't know you'd be here."

The angel's smile turns softer, almost innocent-like as he lets out another hiccup. He bashfully meets your gaze. "You're not.. a bother.."

Your heart melts. But that's always it when it comes to Simeon. Sweet face and even sweeter words. You think he's not exactly this way with everyone— No, you remember he hasn't always been this open. Hiding behind a set of vague words, saying yet not quite spelling what resides close in his heart.

You hear another small grunt, warm fingers enveloping yours as he drags your palm down across the slope of his cheek. Stopping somewhere around his chin and jaw. Eyes closing with unsurprising ease. Warm lips brush against your fingers. You suck in a breath. Dart out a tongue to wet your lips. His voice comes out low and strained. Like what he's about to tell you is a big secret. Waiting for a second to pass by before he actually says what he wants to. A static runs up your skin when he push his lips further onto the pads of your digits, solid. A concious decision. "You could never bother me."

Simeon's eyelashes flutter open, eyes searching yours. Your chest tightens. It gets hard to look away. You don't want to look away. One beat. Then two. You swipe a thumb across his lips. Languid and trembling, like you're the one who has been drinking and not the one in front of you who only parts his lips at the motion. His teeth grazes your skin then he's looking at you. All unwavering and deadly silent. The sharp canines start to sink down—

"Feel free to stay however long you like."

Lucifer's voice snaps you harshly to the reality, your hand pulled back just as fast before he walks your way. The eldest doesn't question your position in front of his companion, the latter fixing his gaze on the cool demon pouring the alcohol into two glasses. Lucifer offers you one and you receive it, gulping down the liquid in one shot.

The back of your throat burns. And in a pathetic attempt to recompose yourself, you feed the fire in your stomach. Swallow another glass and another. Hour and hour and hour after another. Listening to the same tracks repeating in the background. Until you deem it enough, which comes in the form of Lucifer snatching the bottle from you, his eyebrows pinched together unpleasantly.

You have half a mind to start an argument with him, a finger already pointing to his direction. But he's far too quick, far too inhuman, a hand on your back and guiding you stubbornly through the door. You feel the pressure against his palm grows as it reaches your side and it isn't until he pries you away that you realize you've been clinging to dear life to Simeon. It's futile however when the angel drags you back towards his side, and you would have no qualms about sticking like glue yet again. Lucifer tries and tries again until he eventually gives up, escorting you towards your bedroom.

When you arrive at the door, he shakes his head again, words pouring out of his mouth in an alarmingly extended period of time. You nod blankly. Something about 'drinking moderately' and 'good sleeping habits' you confidently would not recall in the morning after. He finally leaves you when you echo back his good night wish, and you're left watching his back until you feel a squeeze to your middle.

Simeon. Bringing your attention back to him, you send him a lazy smile. This time he doesn't respond. Light blue eyes tracing your face with an intensity too loud for you to ignore. More time pass in thick silence. Your expression drops, face muscles morphing into a look of uncertainty. Of flickering gaze and pursing lips. Of being honest or being too out of your system. Or maybe both.

So when he finally moves first, you don't waste a second. Heaving in relief as you disjointedly push and twist the doorknob. He's closing in on you. Twist. Push. Twist. Twist. Push. How hard can a doorknob even be—? Push. Twist. Push—

The door clicks. Your hands reach forward to tug him crushed onto you. A soft exhale leaves your lips when you connect them with his. You stay within the sensation: Of his warm breaths full of Demonus, of his eyes catching your gaze in equal haze, of the sudden nibble on your lips. The next thing you feel is a hand cupping your jaw and Simeon devours you. Pushing and pushing further as if he could kiss the very soul inside you. Hands helplessly roaming on your hips, up to the underside of your chest, further to your neck, to any where he could place them.

You moan beneath him when you feel your back pressing against the door. Can't help but squirm when you look at him. Blue eyes staring straight at you. Sinking the image of your expressions to the back of his mind. He tilts his head, pressing insistently on your lips. Brazenly, he twists on the hem of your top and slide his hand underneath. His fingers leave a trail of shivers against your warm skin. You gasp. Bunching your fingers on his cloth out of the lack of air.

The angel doesn't seem to take hint, or ignores it entirely. Swoops further into your lips to explore your mouth, teeth clashing and all, his tongue expertly curling against every wet surface. Your cheeks flush. Mind fogging into a white blank. And it's only then that he releases you, pulling a small distance away. He giggles. He's not even guilty about it.

Hot.

Your hands clumsily land to his waist. In nervousness or anticipation, you're not exactly sure. And you don't exactly care. That prickling electric running up your skin, sweat starting to pool beneath your palms. When he pushes back onto you, you push back onto his mouth with equal force. With his hand cupping one side of your face and the other kneading your back, your fingers courageously squeeze his hips. Then to his skin in kind.

His skin is oh so very warm and you realize the opposite is true to him when he pulls back with a scrunched face, a curse whispered under his breath. He listens to you chuckle and then your fingers are tracing the soft lines on his stomach, a certain glimmer to that bewitching eyes of yours. They're hypnotizing at least, commanding at most. The digits slowly, slowly, and slowly, crawl up his chest. Just when he thinks you're about to move further, you slide down your palm instead and remove your touch from his body. Instead, your hand hovers over a button of his pants, thumb picking at the circle shaped item.

And you're staring at him with that damned smirk. You're cruel. You're so very cruel.

You know very well he could never say no to you.

a/n: cockblocked 🫵 kidding. sorry . idk how to write smut. (im a coward ik 🤕)

[blasphemlm]

We Rotten Few chapter 25, Necrosis

There is a saccharine sweet scent in the air, putrid and disgusting. It hangs like mold, suffocating you and dulling your senses. When you open your mouth, you know intrinsically that what you are tasting is rot. You cannot escape this.

[where-is-vivian]

actually, if someone isn't scared of having to correct every verb of a rosekiller fic, I can give you the keys to the attic, there's a word document that's been rotting here for months

[unanswered-stars]

Question

How do you lovely people find a beautiful little beta to read your writing?

I have a oneshot that really needs an extra set of eyeballs because I have read this into oblivion but I fear it still may not make sense.

OC piece and will be less than 1000 words

[twinklerei]

Guys Im searching a beta reader for the stephcass fic Im writing (tim is also an important character you will see it) please Im desesperate dm if you are interested. please