#fanfic ask prompts

[echobx]

Barry leaves, asking Rafe to watch his sister, who overhears and objects. Despite her attempts to seduce Rafe, He declines. That night after Barry goes to sleep he confesses his love to her and they have passionate slow sex

Rafe Cameron × Barry's little sister!reader

warnings: p in v (protected), fingering, light oral (fem receiving)

word count: 2.2k

author's note: I hope what I did here is not dissapointing you bestie 💕and if I'ma 100% honest with you, my brain never comes up with anything for Rafe so this is a blessing because I need to write him more (accidentally wanted to write "need to ride him" there lol)

You're standing in the kitchen of your trailer, your big brother and his friend Rafe are sitting on the couch just a few feet away from you. You never intend to eavesdrop on them, especially because you really don't want to know about all the illegal shit your brother gets up to. You've learned to keep out of Barry's business and only ever do something when he specifically asks you to. Like the one time he needed you to smuggle something over the border, so you packed your suitcase, and your innocent best friend, and had a girl's trip. No one would suspect a cute and innocent looking girl like you to be the sister of one of the biggest fish in the OBX. 

“I need you to stay here, make sure no one comes around and tries anything while I go pick up the new shit,” Barry says in a low voice, not wanting you to listen of course.  “Isn't she old enough, though?” Rafe asks and you smile into yourself a little. You like that he trusts you more than your brother does, but then again it's the simple brotherly instinct to want to have you taken care of. And who better to do that then his best friend. Of course.  “Just keep an eye on her,” Barry sighs.  “I don't need a babysitter,” you speak up and turn around to look at them both.  “Who said anything about babysitting?” Rafe cocks his eyebrow up, trying his best to seem innocent.  “Exactly,” Barry hesitates. “Rafe will just wait for me here until I get back. No babysitting. Just waiting and you're here too, sis.”  “Ugh, you guys are the worst,” you groan and walk back into your room. 

You decide to go through your closet, putting on a pair of dungarees over a simple red top first and walking back into the living area. Barry had left already, and you decided to play a little game with Rafe, unbeknownst to him.  “What do you think?” you ask and twirl around, and he lifts his head to look at you.  “Cute,” he notes and dips his head again, looking back to his phone.  You go and try on something else. A mini skirt and loop top, showing off your belly button piercing.  “How about this?” you ask him again and this time his eyes linger for a little longer, but he just shrugs.  “Looks good to me.”  You groan and stomp back into your room. Picking out a shirt that is basically see-through and a pair of hot pants that really should probably not count as pants, but panties.  You step back out and walk straight over to him, placing yourself in front of him and twirling your hair.  Rafe's eyes get stuck on your tits before he looks up at you and gulps. “That's something,” he rasps and lifts his hips in his seat, but he doesn't go further. 

Not only are you frustrated because none of your attempts have shown any real effect, but also because all you want is for him to just fuck you. It's not really that easy to find a guy when you have a brother who threatens anyone you even think about bringing home. But Rafe's at your place basically every single day. Barry finds him trustworthy enough to stay with you while he's out. And on top of that, you know of the rumors. You know of Rafe's reputation. He takes what he wants, and he doesn't leave until he's satisfied. That's what you wanted for yourself. Especially for your first time.  Which is why it also doesn't make sense to you that he hasn't made a move on you yet, especially considering how you always flirt with him as soon as Barry leaves the room. 

You decide to let it go, instead only putting on an oversized shirt, no bra and a pair of shorts. Your usual look, basically.  When you come back out, Rafe's already looking at you, he's smiling.  “I like that one too,” he says, and you roll your eyes.  “Whatever.”  “Since when do you have a piercing?” Rafe asks and watches you sit down on the other end of the couch.  “Few months ago. Thought if I hide it long enough, my brother can't tell me off about it anymore,” you shrug, bored out of your mind really. And you don't realize that Rafe keeps talking to you about you, and not just about random shit like usually. He asks about your favorite things, and he doesn't even make fun of you for how polar opposite it all is to how people perceive you.  No one would expect a trailer park chick to be a math nerd, or like classical music the same amount as rap. But Rafe finds it fascinating. He's practically enamored by you, but you're too stuck in your head to even really notice it. 

“This is prolly the best shit I had in months,” Barry grins while walking in, taking a small bag of shit out of his backpack and throwing it towards Rafe. “Think we can at least triple that,” he says, and goes to stash the rest.  Rafe is dipping his pinky into the powder and rubs it on his gums. “Oh, that's good,” he nods and leans back.  They spend the rest of the night talking about how much they can take for it and the usual split. And you just sit there, watching and listening and zoning out and thinking about more fun things, like, what if Rafe didn't just see Barry's little sister in you.

The night progresses and you go to your room, telling them you're tired, when you really are just not in the mood to listen to them any longer.  That's how you found yourself, two hours later, lying in your bed, body turned away from the door but still wide awake when the door opens and closes with a soft creak.  “Y/n?” Rafe asks and you pretend to be asleep. “Are you awake?”  You keep your eyes closed in case he walks around your bed to check on it, but he doesn't, instead he just sits down next to you and sighs.  “I don't know how to keep doing this, to keep pretending like I don't care,” he whispers, and your heart starts beating a little faster. “But I can't do what I want to either. I'm not supposed to- Fuck, y/n, I wish I could tell you how much I love you,” he sighs, and you rip your eyes open. 

“You what?” You flip around and stare at him.  Rafe looks at you, completely flabbergasted, he really didn't expect you to hear him. But now it's too late, and he can't take it back anymore. “I'm in love with you,” he whispers, and you sit up. “And I don't- I can't keep going like this, not when you do shit like today and all I can think of is bending you over and fucking you until you beg me to stop.”  “Then do it,” you whisper.  “What?”  “Fuck me.” You look at him and he shakes his head.  “Barry would kill me.”  “I don't care about my brother. I don't want my brother. I want you,” you tell him and lean in to kiss him. 

It's a gentle peck that you place on his soft lips. Rafe takes his hands up to hold onto your neck as he reciprocates the kiss, harshly and with a demanding manner that makes you feel like putty in his hands.  You try to stay quiet, but the way his tongue presses against yours makes you want to moan louder than you ever anticipated from a simple kiss. But Rafe knows what he wants, and now that he's had a taste, he's not stopping.  His hands find your waist, running up and taking your shirt off you. Rafe stops kissing you to admire your body, hands groping at the flesh of your tits, and you have to bite your lip to not moan.  “Take off your shirt,” you whisper, and he follows suit, throwing it somewhere on the floor before starting to kiss down your body. Lips trailing down your neck to the valley of your breasts, then farther down, sucking your piercing between his teeth before kissing your clothed clit.  “You smell so good, baby,” he moans against your cunt, before slapping against your thigh, and you instinctively lift your hips and let him take off your slip. 

“If that's not the prettiest pussy I've seen in my life,” Rafe hums before licking a stride up your slick folds and closing his lips around your sensitive bud. Shallow moans and quiet gasps leave you as you grasp into his hair, trying to hold onto anything you can get your hands on while he edges you on.  “More, please, Rafe,” you beg and he looks up with a smirk.  “Want me to fuck you, baby?”  “Yes, please, please.”  Rafe thrusts his fingers into your tight hole and your back arches up. His fingers curl up and prod against your walls, making you squirm under him.  “God, you're tight, it's almost like-” he stops and looks at you. “Have you never had sex?”  You feel ashamed at first, but you can't lie, you know he's gonna find out eventually. So you shake your head and hope he doesn't mind.  “Jesus, baby, you should've said something. I would've come over and fucked you way earlier if that's all you wanted this whole time,” he whispers and kisses you, his hand still working on your pussy until you feel like you're about to explode.  “Cum for me, baby, I know you want to. Soak my fingers,” he growls into your ear, and you let go. Your moans are swallowed by his lips on yours and his fingers fuck you through your high until you lie there, panting and happier than ever. 

“Need more,” you rasp and pull on his shorts, trying to open the button.  “Really needy, aren't you,” Rafe chuckles and gets up to take off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes go wide when you see how big he is. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to pick Rafe of all people for your first time, but there’s no going back now. You watch him pump his dick a few times before rolling on a condom and coming back to kneel between your legs.  “You have to tell me if it hurts. I don't wanna hurt you,” he says, and you nod, biting your lips in anticipation.  His tip nudges your hole, and you take a deep breath as he starts pushing into you. Forgetting that he wanted to go slow, Rafe bottoms out, and you feel like you're being split in two.  “Shit, are you okay?” he asks, and you nod, trying to not cry from the stinging feeling.  “Go slow, please,” you whisper, and he kisses you, distracting you from the pain between your legs.  He pulls out slowly and pushes back into you, groaning quietly against the skin on your neck. Your hands are clasping his shoulders and your legs are wrapped around his middle, letting him hit even deeper inside you with his shallow thrusts. 

“You feel so good, baby. This pussy is made for me,” Rafe muses, kissing your neck and sucking on the soft skin, leaving marks for days. Your mind is dazed. The pain you had felt just minutes before is replaced with pure pleasure and the way he longingly stares into your eyes.  You didn't expect him to be so gentle with you, but now that you have it, you want nothing more than to do it over and over again.  “Fuck, you're so tight,” Rafe grunts, gradually fasting his pace. He pulls out almost completely, leaving you empty and babbling for more until he slams back in, holding onto the headboard of your bed so it doesn't hit against the wall.  “You're mine. My girl,” Rafe grunts and rams into you another time.  “Yours,” you moan softly, still trying to keep quiet and not wake your brother next door. But Rafe seems to have forgotten about it.  His right hand comes down to hold onto your neck, and he starts pounding into you harsher and faster than you thought possible. Maybe he really wants to try to impale you with his cock, and you know you'd let him. It's overwhelming, and you feel the band inside you go tighter with each heavy thrust.  “Let go, baby, I got you,” Rafe looks down at you and smiles, you can feel it inside of you, the warmth, and then you're lost. It feels like you're falling and when he pushes into you deeper and halts, you're caught again. 

Your poor cunt won't stop clenching even after he had pulled out and disposed of the condom. You're hot and cold at the same time, like a storm had just washed over you and left you speechless.  “Next time we do this, you can be as loud as you want to, baby,” Rafe whispers and kisses your neck, holding you tightly in his arms before you both drift into a deep slumber. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

[dxckgrxsonx]

"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader

Words - 900ish

Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing

Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

**

He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.

Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.

He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.

“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”

“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”

“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.

“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”

It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.

You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.

It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.

You needed him and he knew it.

You need him now and he knows it.

There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.

Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.

“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”

He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.

Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.

Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.

“Say it.” Jason demands.

Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.

“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”

Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.

“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.

“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”

“Uh–plea–please.”

“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”

**

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #61 Part 4

Danny woke up to a stream of sunlight on his face. The room was just as rich as he remembered, he stood up and stretched a bit before he heard a knock at the door.

It was Alfred bringing him a change of clothes, “Breakfast is ready, Master Danny. You can find the dining room down the hall to the left.” the old butler smiled at him. 

“You don’t have to call me Master, Alfred, I’m not your Damian.” Danny said, turning around to address him.

“Ah, yes, however you are still Master Bruce’s son, even from another world.” The butler gave him a cheeky smile.

Danny shrugged and headed to the bathroom to get changed. Once he was decent again, he headed down to the dining room. 

The room was just as fancy as the rest of the house with a chandelier and ornate vases. 

Danny noticed Damian and a few others already seated at the table. Damian wore what Danny could only assume was his rich kid school uniform. He sat across from Damian who made a small ‘Tt’ and turned away from him. 

Next to Damian was Tim who put away his laptop once Danny sat down. Tim was wearing a business suit, a dark red colored one. “Ah, you sleep much longer than Damian does, you must have been tired.” Tim smiled at him.

Also seated at the table and wearing a navy blue suit, was Bruce himself. He was drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

“Stop comparing me to him, Drake, I’m nothing like this imposter.” Looks like Damian still thought he was a clone. 

Whatever, he shrugged it off and filled his plate. 

“I don’t really have a lot of free time,” was all Danny said before he started eating.

Tim kind of watched him for a minute, he looked kind of shocked for a second, “You’re eating meat??” 

Ah so that was another difference between them, “again, I’m Danny, I’m not Damian.”

Damian scoffed, “So that’s what you call yourself, imposter.”

Danny gave Damian a tired sigh, looks like the him of this universe was a lot more prideful than he was. Danny went through way too much to carry the same, dying and being crown prince of the infinite realms wasn’t exactly something he was born into. Danny was a bit jealous if he was being honest with himself. 

“Damian, please at least attempt to be friendly. Danny is our guest for the meantime.” Bruce said, putting his newspaper down. He then turned his attention to Danny, “I know it isn’t ideal but I think it’ll be best for you to stay here until we can get you to your own world. I’m planning a trip to the Watchtower tomorrow so I can speak with some of my colleagues about the situation.” 

Danny sighed but nodded his head, “I get it, you can’t have two of us running around.”

“Quite, you’re more than welcome to go around the mansion and the grounds, I’d also like to invite you along to the Watchtower but we’d need to come up with a disguise for you, secret identity and everything.” Bruce continued after taking another sip from his mug, “Alfred will still take you out today to get some basic necessities for you. We’ll get you a proper disguise so you're able to go with him.”

Danny nodded again and continued eating. He thought things over as he ate, he technically had a disguise they could use for the Watchtower but Danny was still on the fence on what exactly he’d tell everyone here.

It wasn’t exactly an easy conversation to have, thankfully some more people arrived for breakfast.

Master Post:

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[ghoulbrain]

mmm can we do: “Open your mouth,” before spitting into it. With ghoul x reader?

18+ ghoul x reader. you have a mighty bounty on your head with an order to be returned alive, but that doesn't mean your captor can't have a little fun with you along the way. kidnapping, deprivation, bribery, folks getting horny over water.

Fucked.

You're so completely fucked.

The worst of it all was that you'd been so close to making it out. You'd gotten far enough that you'd paid your weight in stolen caps to get safe passage away from your dead end life. You didn't have a cent left to your name when he found you.

The Ghoul.

Running didn't get you far. You couldn't bribe him. Begging only made him laugh.

He's got you bound thoroughly in coarse lithe rope. Your hands are clasped over your chest as if in prayer, and your elbows are tucked snugly to your ribs. The rope job makes for an excellent harness, and he hasn't been shy about yanking you by it.

It's been almost two days of this slog back towards the shithole you fled from. You fought hard at first, mouthing off at every opportunity, but the heat has worn you ragged, and this son of a bitch hasn't given you so much as a drop of water.

You collapse to your knees. Your throat is so dry, even breathing hurts.

"Trust me when I say you do not want me t'drag you the rest of the way, darlin'," he tells you, giving the rope a jerk. You barely manage not to fall flat on your face.

"At this rate you'll be dragging a corpse," you hiss, voice hoarse. "I need water."

The earth crunches beneath his boots as he approaches, crouching down near you. Roughly, he grabs hold of your chin, tilting your head up to look you over. He pinches your cheek with a thoughtful hum.

"Yeah, y'might just be right. Awfully dehydrated," he muses. You could swear he's enjoying your slow decline.

"Water," you repeat tersely.

"Y'know, for such a sweet face, you're a real sourpuss," he says, drawing his canteen from his satchel. You swallow dryly, too thirsty to even salivate. "I haven't heard a single 'please' outta that mouth of yours."

"I'm not going to beg for the life you're selling," you spit right back. This is the closest he's been to you since your capture. If you could gather wetness enough on your tongue, you'd be weighing the pros and cons of spitting that in his face instead.

He chuckles, unscrewing the lid. You can already smell the wetness of it. Your jaw aches. "Y'got chutzpah, I'll give y'that."

You lean forward, opening your mouth instinctively when he lifts the canteen. Please, please, please, please...

The Ghoul brings the canteen to his own gnarled lips, holding your gaze as he gulps once, twice, three times before drawing away with a satisfied aahh, humming like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. Your heart falls into your stomach.

"Oh," he says, looking from your dejected expressing to the canteen and back. "I'm sorry, did you want some?"

"You son of a-" you start, but he interrupts you with a sharp yank of the rope.

"Ah, ah. I've had just about enough of hearin' your gutter mouth," he says, but he doesn't sound it. His smile is downright chuffed. "Now, if you want so much as a drop of this, y'gonna say please."

You grit your teeth. Your pride is all you have left in this world, and apparently this motherfucker is determined to take that away, too. Your gaze drops to his mouth, where a rivulet of water rolls out from the corner. You're so desperate you almost lurch forward to lick the drop before it drips from his chin.

Steeling yourself, you drag your eyes back up to his. "Please," you say tightly.

The corner of his smile tics upwards. "Please what?"

You inhale a steadying breath. "Can I please have water?"

"That's much better," he says, lifting the canteen once more. "Open your mouth."

With a flood of tentative relief, still wary of his sincerity, you tip your head back and do as you're told, ignoring the wicked flicker of pleasure you see light in his black eyes.

"Now, if y'want a sip, keep that mouth open," he says, taking a long swig from the canteen. You stare in disbelief, beginning to protest, but he holds up a single gloved finger to silence you, humming sharply.

He swishes the water loudly in his mouth, and understanding dawns on you. Heat that rivals the arid desert sweeps through you in a hot rush of humiliation, but you refuse to let him see it. You refuse to back down.

Steadily, you open your mouth once again, chin jutting out defiantly.

He quirks a hairless brow beneath his hat, rolling the water from one side of his mouth to the other, as if daring you.

You push your tongue out, expression expectant.

He grabs hold of your chin and yanks you forward, fountaining the water into your open mouth, spitting to finish it off. You choke it down, trying not to cough for the amount of it that hit the back of your throat, your head hanging forward.

It feels like bliss on your tongue, soothing the burning dryness, but the relief of it is gone far too soon. You could easily guzzle a full bottle to yourself.

It's not enough.

After a beat, you lift your head, mouth once again open, tongue pushed forward.

The Ghoul laughs. You can feel his breath on what little moisture is left on your lips.

"Well now, don't you paint a pretty picture," he says, catching your chin in his grip again, pulling you forward. Resolutely, you keep your mouth open, waiting. His eyes flicker down to the sight of it, darkening. He licks his own lips as if he's the one deprived.

"Maybe you're worth the caps they're payin' for you after all," he says, drinking from the canteen. He moves even closer this time, tilting your head all the way back. His lips nearly brush yours while the water spills into your mouth.

You swallow it back greedily, little noises leaving your throat unbidden for the sheer relief of it. You swear you can feel the water rushing to your temples, soothing your pounding headache.

His thumb moves up your chin, collecting water you'd dribbled in your haste. He pushes it up over your bottom lip and into your mouth. Without thinking, you close your lips around the intrusion and suck, greedy for every last drop. His hold on you tenses.

You meet his gaze and in it you see dark prowling hunger. How much of his predator nature is he holding back right now? Would he sacrifice the caps if he thought you looked good enough to eat?

"Thanks," you say, voice little more than a rasp.

His jaw shifts like he's biting his tongue, and then he screws the lid back onto his canteen, hauling you up with him as he stands. He's rough with you, but not overly so.

If beggin' and cussin' don't work on the big bad Ghoul, you suppose you've got nothing to lose in trying to use good ol' fashioned manners to wriggle your way out of this.

Ghoul or not, what you just witnessed was a man's hunger, and that's something you can work with.

[sokkas-first-fangirl]

If you’re still taking prompts, how about Eda taking bets with the other Owl House parents on which kids will be proposing first?

"Willow," Darius said, like it should have been obvious. "Of course it'll be Willow."

"You're betting against our son?" Camila demanded, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Darius said.

Alador nodded. "Yeah, my money's on Willow," he said.

Camila threw her hands up. "Am I the only one who has any faith in him!?" Camila vs Hunter's sort-of-dad and sort-of-step-dad; it wasn't a battle of wills that Eda expected, but it was one she enjoyed watching.

"I agree," Perry said. "I'd say Willow."

Raine looked contemplative. They hummed, tapping a rhythm on the table, but didn't offer a side yet.

"Actually, I side with Camila," Lilith said slowly. She looked like she was thinking hard. Weighing the pros and cons would be Eda's bet. "Hunter is shyer than Willow, but he loves her dearly and he's brave. He can be very determined. I can see him proposing."

Darius and Alador exchanged dubious glances. Camila smiled smugly.

"Well, what about Luz and Amity?" Raine asked, tapping their chin.

"Luz," Camila and Eda said.

"Amity," Lilith said.

"Honestly, considering their track record, I expect them both to propose on the same day," Alador said with a shrug. "Or they'll try to anyway. Hopefully without Hooty's involvement this time."

"Is something wrong with Hootsifer?" Lilith demanded.

"You don't want me to answer that."

"Okay," Darius cut in quickly. "What about Gus and Matt?"

Perry snorted. "They'll need to actually date first," he said. "And my hair will be entirely grey by the time those boys sort themselves out. They're both painfully oblivious."

"Are they still calling it a rivalry?" Camila asked sympathetically.

"Unfortunately," Perry sighed.

Alador snorted into his apple blood. Eda gave him and Darius her most shit-eating grin.

"Yeah," Darius sighed. "We'll all be waiting a while on those two."

[scuttlingcrab]

What if Raphael sent Tav an embarrassing gift? Something he'd definitely find pleasure in, but Tav would be mortified to receive? xD

LOL. Thank you for sending me this one. I died writing this, had me grinning from beginning to end. x

Summary: Raphael gives Tav, his very favourite client, a generous gift after she signs his contract.

Notes: Some suggestive imagery from the devil we know and love.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

The Devil's Muse

(Image via keylana-dragon)

“I beg your indulgence. A brief word, before you depart.” 

Raphael spoke in a low rumble, intending his voice for Tav but unperturbed whether or not the other companions overheard him. 

Tav hesitated, her ears perking up as his voice shattered the silence. She hovered near the door of his suite in Sharess’ Caress, halfway through the threshold as she attempted to make her leave. Shadowheart, Astarion, and Karlach waited on the landing outside, the companions lingering like flies on a rotten corpse. 

Raphael casually leaned against the desk, resting his hands on the smooth, rich rosewood. He lightly tapped his fingers on the surface, warming up his digits before the second performance began. 

The little mouse was always the last to leave his company, lagging behind her companions. It was only for a moment, but that was long enough for Raphael to take note, keeping a detailed record after each encounter.

She tried to play coy, never giving Raphael the satisfaction of losing himself in those dark delectable eyes. He could often feel Tav’s gaze on him as soon as he turned his back to her, those eyes burning through his very body and spirit. 

Despite her attempts of acting aloof, with her crossed arms and narrowed lips, she remained at the forefront of their conversations. Raphael would catch her leaning towards him, edging closer as he spoke his rhymes of wisdom and warning. Tav in turn spoke softly when she addressed Raphael, her words blunt yet voice cracking with emotion. 

That confounded mortal fanned the flames of his desires the more detached she presented herself. She was becoming a nuisance; occupying every waking thought and following him freely into every dream. Raphael had an insatiable longing for carnality, his chest overflowing with passion. He had been reduced to his primal instincts, letting his lust for that woman lead his motivations instead of his ambitions for the Crown. He would need to be more cautious. 

“There is one thing I wish to show you… now that the contract has been signed.”

Tav raised an eyebrow, biting her bottom lip as she watched Raphael, waiting for him to continue.

“What in the flaming Hells does he want now?” Karlach shouted, shoving her obnoxious face through the doorway. “C’mon soldier, we need to leave.” 

Karlach placed a hand on Tav’s arm, trying to lure her outside. Tav remained cemented, grabbing Karlach’s hand in return. 

“Hold on a minute.” Tav responded, “let’s hear what he has to say.”

“It would be in your best interest, little mouse, if it was just the two of us.” An edge of warning in Raphael’s tone.

“Oh, go on then, devil.” Karlach sneered.

“Come now, Karlach, no need to be unpleasant. Can we not speak with civility?” 

Tav regarded the situation with curiosity, her intense stare shifting around the room. Raphael could just about hear the rusted cogs turning inside of that tadpoled infested brain of hers.

Tav nodded, walking to the centre of the suite. 

“Alright, Raphael. I’m not interested in any more secrets. Whatever you have to say or show can be done in front of everyone.”

Karlach stomped her way into the room, standing close behind Tav. The Tiefling's infernal engine roared, the flames in her chest growing more chaotic as she shot Raphael a scathing glance. Shadowheart and Astarion shared a few hushed words as they followed Karlach, shuffling reluctantly back inside the Devil’s Den. 

“So be it, if you insist.” 

Raphael snapped his fingers and a large painting sizzled into view, suspended above them. The entire party gasped in unison. 

“A gift for my new treasured client.”

The painting showcased Tav reclining on a leather chaise lounge against a dark grey backdrop, her body bending with pleasure. She was draped in a red robe, the sleeves falling loosely off her slender shoulders, stopping just above the hill of her breasts. Her eyes were closed and her lips wore a savoury smile, as if she was on the cusp of release. Her dark wavy hair poured off the edge of the furniture like a waterfall. 

Raphael beamed, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he respected the painting in the very presence of his muse. He had painted Tav’s likeness from memory, hoping he would be able to do her justice by capturing her unique beauty on the canvas. 

Whether Tav signed Raphael’s contract that afternoon was debatable, he would’ve delivered his gift to the little mouse regardless of the outcome.

He had worked diligently behind the scenes since their last rendezvous in the Shadow-Cursed Lands; sketching mockups, painting, re-painting, one failed canvas after another, until he successfully recreated the image that plagued his mind for what felt like an eternity.

Raphael knew it would never be perfect, he still found flaws as he stared at the painting; minor errors in the brushstrokes, a few shadows that could’ve perhaps been blended better. He only hoped it added to the charm and the little mouse would not notice. 

Raphael returned his attention to his guests, immediately observing Tav. She was frozen in place, her eyes wide and fixed on the painting, as if she was hypnotised by it. There was something different to her face now, something Raphael always yearned to see from the mortal. A faint gleam in those eyes, a playful smile slowly crawling up her delicate lips the more she stared at the artwork. Had he stirred something in the little mouse? At long last? 

“Perhaps, at a later time, we can admire it together, once the Crown is in my possession, yes? Until then, it will remain in my House of Hope. For safekeeping, naturally.”

“This has got to be a fucking joke, right?” Karlach shouted, getting in between Tav and Raphael. “I told you he was a creep!”

“I don’t know, it does capture her essence... in a drab, lifeless kind of way.” Shadowheart murmured, her cheeks blushing as she continued to gape at the painting.  

“And here I was thinking only his poetry was questionable.” Astarion whispered, giggling like an ill-behaved schoolboy. 

“I often forget how ignorant you mortals are. A pity.” 

Raphael straightened his posture and kept his chin held high. He tightly clasped his hands behind his back, imagining what it would feel like to have his fingers around the companions' brittle necks, ridding them of their pitiful lives. Those foolish twits would feel his wrath in due time. Perhaps one, or two, would perish when they fought the Elder Brain. Yes, that would be most preferable.

Raphael instead approached Tav, ignoring the companions and their onslaught of criticisms. He turned to face the painting, standing beside her. Raphael could see Tav out of the corner of his eye, feeling the warmth radiating off her body as she continued to stare at the artwork. 

“I never took you for a painter, Raphael.”  

“I occasionally dabble in mortal amusements from time to time, when I’m feeling inclined.”

“And do you always give your clients such risqué gifts? These types of things are open to suggestions.” 

“It’s an innocent gift, I assure you. But now I am most curious, what does this painting tell you?”

Raphael crossed his arms, his fingers trembling as he raised a hand to his chin, anticipating her answer. 

“A promise of what could be? Maybe what more could be offered?”

“Very astute. I have been known to provide exceptional entertainment when certain deals have been met.”

Raphael tilted his head, taking an opportunity to lean towards Tav. It was a subtle gesture, but their bodies were now touching, linked together. With his arms still crossed, he removed an index finger from his lower extremity, lightly caressing Tav’s exposed forearm. The little mouse did not flinch at his touch but he saw her smile grow. 

“One note though.” Tav whispered. 

“Go on?” 

“I think my jawline is a bit off, don’t you think?”

Raphael bit his tongue, unsure whether he wanted to incinerate the little mouse or take her by the neck and violently kiss her.

Raphael had Tav's signature but he’d only praise the occasion when that little mouse bestowed the Crown to him. Her contract didn’t amount to a hill of beans when compared to his grander schemes. Raphael would not rest until he had succeeded in his plight to unite the Nine Hells, until he faced Mephistopheles, and claimed his birthright. 

Raphael had once made a promise to himself not to allow any distractions. It was too perilous, opening him up to failure and eternal punishment. But that damned little mouse found a way through his defences, crept through the cracks of what he thought was a sturdy foundation. The woman had caught Raphael in her snare. Until he held her in his arms, until she was his, she would continue to plague his dreams. Perhaps along the road to ascension, he would add Tav’s heart to his list of conquests. 

“I will make sure to keep that in mind for my next piece.” Raphael noted, turning to face the rest of the party. 

The silence was heavy, the awkwardness weighing on the companions. Raphael stared at each of them until they looked away, unable to handle the intense heat of his gaze without melting. 

“You may take your leave. The room is getting far too crowded for my tastes.” Raphael waved the party off, walking back to his desk. He left the painting floating above him. 

“Gods, I thought he’d never ask. Fucking prick.” Karlach whispered, practically sprinting out the room. 

“Tav, you owe me a damned drink.” Astarion groaned.

Shadowheart had no words, but she curiously eyed the painting a final time before trailing after Astarion. 

“Don’t disappoint me, little mouse. The fate of the world, our very futures, hang over your shoulders.”

Tav remained in the room, staring amorously into Raphael’s eyes. He held his breath, relishing the seconds he was allowed to devour her magnificence.

“Thank you." Tav mouthed, and quickly made her exit.

Raphael released a sigh, resting a hand on his desk to keep himself from combusting. That damned woman.

The curtain had fallen on this act, but it was not yet the finale. Change was brewing, mists of uncertainty clouding Raphael’s judgement, and for once, he was not fearful of what was to come.

[ohraicodoll]

 Feral Masterlist

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OFC

(You’ve all lovingly named this character Feral Reader, but she’s referenced as Starshine or Red sometimes in the stories.)

Warning: Explicit Content, Graphic Violence, Trauma, PTSD

(Put in order of story timeline)

Monsters Two-Shot | (18+ Minors DNI) | 3rd POV | AO3 Part 1 | Part 2 Honey One-Shot | (18+ Minors DNI) | 3rd POV | AO3 The first time there was an excuse, the second time was just about release after a hard day.

Be Still Drabble | 3rd POV | AO3 It takes her a while to notice. Joel is having a panic attack. Bitter Two-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Joel makes a decision for all of them when they finally find Tommy in Jackson. Part 1 | Part 2 Violent Delights One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 With Joel injured and Ellie captured, she has to make a choice. Violent Ends One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 They find the Fireflies and one by one, the lights go out.  Crossword Snippet | 3rd POV | AO3 It’s the first time their group has been split up and Joel definitely isn’t waiting for you at the gates.

Daisies Drabble | 3rd POV | AO3 The women of Jackson have their eyes set on Joel Miller.

Beast One-Shot | 18+ Minors DNI for Graphic Violence | 3rd POV | AO3 All she can see is that he’s hurt and she would tear them apart. Left Behind One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Settling into life in Jackson wasn't going so easily and Joel is hit with the possibility she may not be welcomed to stay. Territorial One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Dominant One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Jealousy and rationality don’t mix. Hero Worship Drabble | 3rd POV Ellie has a little admirer  Your Bury Me One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 A failed trade, a dress, music, and their own form of confession. Mine Drabble | 3rd POV He doesn’t like other’s attention on her

Drabbles:

Reckless: Ellie gets mad at her for being too careless with herself Red’s Personality ***Red Integrating Into Jackson Headcanons ***Red and Joel Headcanons Does Red ever try singing again? ***Tommy x Red Headcanons Tommy after the punch ***Ellie x Red Headcanons ***Joel falling for Red Headcanons Red is Ellie’s Mom Gifts from the Barn Cat The Morning After Bitter Part 2 Joel’s Nightmares ***Moments in Domesticity Headcanons ***Ellie and Red arguement Headcanons

Asks

Where does Red met them in the timeline? TLOU Part 2 Question Sunshine Bestie Red and cheating scenario Romance and Connections Red and Pregnancies Maria and Red’s relationship Ellie’s Adjustment Maria standing up for Red Reds Triggers Red & the baby (More) When Reds Sick Annie’s Birthday Joel Calming Red Down Red’s Trinkets

________________________________ If you would like to be added to a taglist for this series, please reply to this post! Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111​ @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya  @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic  @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8 @badwolf00593​ @themothersmercy @badwolf00593 @mxtokko @happinessinthebeing​ @taranicristeard  @aroacefanenby @barbellpedro  @maviee​ @sgt-morgan @peppesgirl​ @spideysimpossiblegirl ​ @hreader7​ @jackierose902109

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

[cyanide-latte]

1, 4, 19 (if applicable), 23, and 36 for the writing asks? 😊

Oooh, thank you, Ace! There’s a lot here, so I’ll put it under a cut! I’m also tagging @ajarofpickledtears since I think a lot of these were also in the giant ask you sent me lol

1: Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?

Oh gosh, a lot of the early ones that I started writing back when I first began writing again at age 19. I still love the stories as they are, especially as time capsules that I can use to track my growth as a writer, but if I rewrote them now, they'd be more polished and have better pacing and less unnecessary side characters or plot threads that went nowhere.

4: Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them?

Dozens. Literally dozens (there's one fandom where I have over 50,) and the vast majority have stories or are featured in another's story. Since getting started on writing for various horror properties, I haven't made a ton more, but I do have a fair few, I'm writing stories for some of them (and others are featured in stories I'm writing for canon characters.) The one I have a soft spot for is actually my s/i for horror properties! I've not actually had an s/i oc be the focus character of anything since I was in middle school (I've had s/i ocs before but it was always a case of, just a random background character that if a reader knew me well enough, they'd recognize my cheeky little waving at them,) but I'm very attached to Hardy and I do want to make an extremely self-indulgent Hellraiser fic for them eventually (they'll also be in DBD stuff.)

(Art by my friend @rocky-road-art )

19: Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

   “I’m pleased to tell you both that we can now safely say all of our hard work and effort together has been a success!”

There was something too happy and artificial in the way she spoke, like some of the electronic toys they still had that were for children far younger than them, and it made Gabriel’s stomach churn, even as Emily reached out and squeezed his arm.

“You’ve been excellent as always, Emily.”

Gabriel slid a quick look to his sister. She wasn’t beaming back at the doctor, wasn’t even fully smiling, but there was an excited alertness to her. Something like hope shone in her eyes. He couldn’t bear to stare at it for too long, and turned away. Not sure what else to do, he looked down at his own lap, resting his other hand in it and looking at the band around his wrist.

“And you, Gabriel,” the woman continued, her voice a gentle, loving sort of croon one used for a puppy they might especially be fond of, “you’ve done so very well.”

23: Dialogue or description? Why is the other one so hard?

I mean, I don’t mind either? The challenge with dialogue is just making sure I have enough understanding of the characters and how they would interact in order to really make dialogue flow well, and description is a delight because I think visually; it’s holding back on description that I’ve had to practice on the most over the years, and I’d like to think I’ve gotten fairly good at not overloading on description.

36: How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?

OH THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS, I WAS HOPING I’D GET THIS ASK!! So, ever since I came back to writing at age 19, I’ve always done two-word titles for my long-running multichapter fics. This was due to the fact that at the time, one of the sites I used to upload fics to had a hard character limit on the titles of uploads, and I would need to make sure I tagged for the fandom, the title, and then indicate what chapter number each upload was. It forced me to get creative with naming my fics. I figured two words would easily help with the title character limit, and I wanted the titles of my fics to be symbolic or at least indicative of themes and/or ideas that run through the frame of the story.

Again, it really forced some creativity, and after a while, I was just kind of known for naming my on-going multichapter fics with poignant two-word titles. I used to be a lot more liberal with naming various oneshots and drabbles whatever. But (again) since I started writing for horror properties, I’ve gotten into a habit of now naming most oneshot/mini-fic/drabble pieces with single-word titles. That’s way more of a challenge and really forces me to think about how I want the fic perceived. (Sometimes I still indulge with a longer title here and there on a oneshot; I have a recent one that’s a phrase, and another that’s titled for song lyrics applicable to the ship I was writing for.)

As for which one I’m the most proud of, aaahhh...I’m not actually sure, I’m proud of a great many of them, really. ^^; I really tend to pat myself on the back about figuring out names I like for my fics.

[diazsdimples]

Buddie + "I love you, but I've never been this angry with anyone than I am with you right now" or smth like that

"I love you, but I've never been this angry with anyone like I am with you right now," Eddie fumes as he checks over Buck's injuries.

They're fairly minor - a split lip and a cut above his left eyebrow that slopes into his birthmark, and there's a few scrapes on his forearm, but that doesn't stop the anger, the fear that's bubbling in Eddie's stomach right now.

"C'mon Eds, I'm fine," Buck mumbles as he tries to dodge Eddie's fussing hands. His head throbs at the sharp movement and he winces. " 'S just a scratch."

"It's seven scratches," Eddie counters as he finishes the catalogue of Buck's injuries. "And you've probably got a concussion."

Eddie pinches between his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. It's not like this is a surprise; Buck's never been one to think through his actions to the logical conclusion, being more of the "act first, think later" type, but Eddie wishes that for once, the man would engage his brain before throwing himself headfirst into a burning building, chasing after a drunk driver on a tiny bicycle, or climbing a tree to fish out the frisbee Christopher had lost moments earlier.

Buck pushes himself up onto his elbows, surveying the broken twigs and leaves that litter the ground around him. The branch that had snapped beneath his weight lies about a foot to his left, and Eddie can see the porous insides, the wood rotten and crumbling. It's any wonder Buck tumbled out of the tree like a kitten learning to climb - that branch would have given way the second he put his weight on it.

"Probably should have checked the branches as I was coming down," Buck says with a strained chucked, his attempt at lightening the mood with humour falling flat when Eddie doesn't respond, his jaw ticking cause yeah, Buck really fucking should have been more careful.

Buck's face falls as he sees Eddie's tight expression.

"A-are you really that mad at me?"

Eddie softens. He's not mad, exactly. His fear and panic often manifests itself as anger, and when Buck had come barrelling out of that tree, crashing to the ground with enough force it could have registered on the Richter Scale, his heart had leapt to his throat.

"I'm not mad," he says gently, and the tension in Buck's shoulders disappears. He reaches out to touch Buck's face, thumb stroking over a thankfully unscathed cheekbone. "I just...you scared me, that's all."

Eddie can feel the weight of Buck's stare, can hear his heartbeat loud in his ears, and then Buck is smiling softly, the look on his face so gentle that it takes Eddie's breath away.

"You don't have to worry about me," he reassures Eddie, turning his face into his boyfriend's hand and kissing his palm.

Eddie can't help the disbelieving snort that leaves his mouth.

"Buck, you choked on bread so hard you nearly died, you've been crushed under a ladder truck, you had a pulmonary embolism and then got washed up by a tsunami, and you've been struck by lightening. You get into trouble more often than not."

Buck laughs, the sound warm and sweet, and Eddie wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him better, to seal up his wounds with his lips, to kiss away the pain and promise to always be there with him when he hurts.

"Well, when you put it like that..."

Buck's eyes sparkle and his lips are so soft, and Eddie doesn't have it in him to stop himself anymore.

The kiss is light and barely there, but Buck's lips are so warm and pliant against his own, and his heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest. He can feel the stubble on Buck's chin against his skin, can smell the sharp scent of the lemon bodywash Buck loves to use, and when Buck sighs against him, Eddie feels it down to his toes. There's a slight wince as Eddie presses over the cut on Buck's lip and he pulls away, resting their foreheads together.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again, licking his lips. He tastes the slightest tang of metal - blood, from Buck's lip - and it sets his teeth on edge.

"Baby, I'm fine. Promise."

Buck leans forward and presses another, far gentler kiss to Eddie's lips.

"Now, can you help me up, please? It's cold down here."

Eddie rolls his eyes but complies nonetheless. He takes Buck's wrist and hauls him to his feet, and is about to drag him inside when Buck sways against him, the blood draining from his face so fast Eddie's surprised he doesn't pass out immediately.

"Sweetheart? Are you okay?" he asks, grasping Buck under the arm as he swallows thickly, his knuckles turning white as he clings onto Eddie's forearm.

"You know what?" Buck says as he suppresses a gag, "M-maybe I should go get checked out."

"You think? C'mon, let's get you in the car."

Eddie at least has the common sense to grab an ice cream container before he ushers Buck out the front door, making fast tracks towards the ER.

[ogdoadfates]

Prompt list: Fluff #2

Like always feel free to use these for whatever~

I am also realizing I have a thing for people doing nice/sweet things while in the rain or while it is raining.

“I hope that in every life, you are there with me.”

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?”

Person A going all out for person B’s birthday.

“What are you doing up?” “My personal heater went away.” 

Person A kissing person B in the rain.

Person A buying person B their favorite snack just because they saw it while shopping.

Person A stealing person B’s sweater/clothes.

Having a tender moment in the early morning.

“I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you.”

Person A helping person B patch up their favorite shirt/sweater/jacket.

Person A noticing person B is getting overwhelmed and helping them out.

Person A helping person B have fun at a party.

Person A and person B accidentally giving each other flowers at the same time.

Person A’s brain short circuiting at how good person B looks.

“I wouldn’t trade you for all the stars in the sky.”

“How are you so comfy?”

Person A falling asleep on person B

Person A noticing person B is cold and giving them their coat.

Person A joining person B in the rain.

Person A telling person B a story to help them fall asleep.

Person A singing person B a song.

Doing each others hair.

[forbodium]

watching their partner become a villain (dialogue prompts)

written by me. please enjoy and use for whatever you like. remember to credit me when reposting.

“this isn’t you anymore. you never wanted to hurt people.”

“come back to me. please.”

“i know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“you have to stop this—before it’s too late!”

“turn you in? you know i could never do that.”

“don’t touch me.”

“do i mean anything to you anymore?”

“we can get away from all this; start over. no one has to know what you did.”

“if you love me, you’ll stop.”

“how long have you been planning this? did i ever even know the real you?”

“you can’t keep me here!”

“it’s okay. it’s okay. we can cover this up. where’s the bleach?”

“you promised no one would get hurt.”

“how do you expect me to sleep next to you at night knowing what you did?”

“okay, i’ll help you—but this is the last time.”

“are you going to kill me?”

“i didn’t want to believe you could do something like this.”

“what else have you been hiding?”

“i thought you cared about me.”

“no, i’m staying with you. ‘for better or for worse’, remember?”

“i can’t let this go on any longer.”

“you can do what you want with me—just don’t hurt the kids.”

“you’re not human.”

“could you change out of those bloodied clothes before you sit on my couch?”

feel free to add more prompts, and please reblog with your stories or tag me in them. i’d love to see your ideas!

[hrwinter]

lena is really *really* into the idea of fucking an alien

sometimes when lena is bored at her desk, on a conference call with the board, listening to her mother emasculate yet another yale-bred, early 20s nepotism hire in the hallway, her mind wanders. meanders, really. it's a lesson in imagination. a practice in her academic deductive reasoning. one of those exercises designed to fight dementia, she's inclined to believe. anyways, she wanders about what it would be like to fuck an alien.

don't be like that. it's not crass. it's a scientific pursuit.

for instance, would it be sexual or asexual reproduction? sexual reproduction would make more sense, and surely the universe is sensible. it would promote genetic diversity. and then, what kind? syngamy or conjugation? fertilization was the most common in multicellular sexual populations, lena has often reasoned. (see, this isn't horny. many of these words put you right to sleep, didn't they?) then there's the types of syngamy, of course: isogamy, heterogamy, and oogamy. but she doesn't really need to get into gametes here. size, number, maintenance. the question she's pondering while jess is listing off her jampacked schedule is how different would an alien's physiology end up being, sexually speaking? would they feel pleasure? that wasn't common on earth. how would fertilization work? penetration? on all fours, perhaps?

hm. or would none of that even matter? would it be purely for the experience of interspecies connection? of finding common ground with a creature so distinct from you, it could almost be argued as a matter of say, quantum entanglement. no matter how many stars separated you, here you were. touching. looking. intertwining. two materials from totally different galaxies, the products of millions of years of formation, evolution, coming, coming together as one.

"mrs. luthor?" the tentative voice of her assistant rings out.

lena drops her pen to her desk. she'd been absentmindedly doodling. it's the super crest.

hm.

"kara danvers is here to see you."

"send her up," lena replies, careful in her tone, swiveling her chair towards the blinding windows of her office. up towards the sky, the heavens and far beyond.

if only someone, someone she knew personally, an alien, would be so inclined as to humor her questions. or even a physical demonstration, perhaps? was that really so hard?

[writtenbyevie]

Flower Language Based Prompt List I made instead of writing 💐

I tried to make the prompts relate to each flower’s definition per the Victorian Flower Language without getting too repetitive.

The prompts are all fairly open ended and I figured people could use them for their own inspiration or request games!!

You know the “send me a ship and flower and I’ll write something.”

Anywho, if anyone does end up using this I’d love it if you’d tag me so I can read what you’ve written!! Either way, I hope someone can get use out my procrastinating 💖

Click here to view an unedited version of the document: The List

[saltofmercury]

As someone who has just fallen for König, thank you for the reading material. He's just more adorable now. May I request a 'there was only one bed' trope with König? If you don't feel comfortable with it or need anything else please let me know. <3

First of all, very very special thank you. You are the first to make me think of TWO ideas for this prompt but I will be publishing that one later.

Second, I’m surprised I never thought of this prompt for myself!

Anyway I love u and I hope you like this version and I’ll tag ya in the second one.

“There’s only one.”

At the start of your relationship, König was polite. Too polite. Maybe it was the cultural differences or the military instilled in him but between you two but he always kept his distance from you.

He asked to hold your hand when many other men would just simply grab your hand and intertwine their fingers against yours.

He asked if he could have a kiss, it was cute, almost innocent the way he asked as if he would get in trouble if he stole one.

Further down your relationship when you spent the night at each other’s houses he would leave you in his room while he took the couch. Same thing when he stayed at your house. He took your couch and never gave it a second thought.

You always respected this, even appreciated that he was so gentle with you, he was never one to be so forward with you, but it was just eating you up inside… does he really like me?

*

One afternoon while you two were building a puzzle together he casually brought up a “holiday” for you two.

“It’s not far, it’s technically up north from where we are now.”

You looked up at him from the table still holding a blue piece clearly not finding its spot. Was this extra?

“You want to go up north?” You say, still concentrating if the manufacturer had given you 501 pieces instead.

“I think it would be fun. A change of environment” he had said simply. He looked down now hoping you would say yes. He was fidgeting in the middle of the puzzle. König was so backwards to you. He worked on the middle of the puzzle and then slowly worked out.

You thought it over.

It was harmless, you needed a break from work and you craved a little more interaction, affection from him.

“Okay let’s do it.”

*

The ride up north should have been long, tedious, and never ending. Surprisingly it had become a great window of opportunity for the two of you. He told you about his childhood. A restless, dangerous, and tornado of a child in his backyard.

You loved when he talked to you about his childhood, it helped you piece together the guy that he was today. You laughed and smiled at all his expressions, his concentration to storytelling.

When you had arrived at the hotel, he took the opportunity to unpack for you and carry your luggage as you went to reserve a spot for dinner.

You requested an outside table, the wait would be about 30 minutes, right as the host called out to you, and he appeared in front of you half an hour later.

“Jesus,” you said sarcastically.

“Was pretty sure you abandoned me.”

He smiled at you, “No, just last minute details I needed to fix.”

You wanted to ask what details he was referring to, but the waiter approached your table to discuss specials.

*

It wasn’t until after dinner that you noticed him off. He kept fidgeting and finding an excuse to not go to the hotel.

“Do you want to see the park?” “Maybe there’s a fun event happening tonight.”

It has been a pretty long drive and a long day. What you really wanted to do was unwind for the day, shower, and wear cozy pajamas.

“No, maybe tomorrow, why don’t we go back?”

He looked nervous. Took a deep breath and agreed.

“Okay, let’s go back.”

*

You approached the hotel, rushed upstairs with him. Commenting on their choice of artwork.

Would you look at the rug? Gosh it makes me feel dizzy.

Look at this picture, it’s teal and the carpet is red!

He responded with small hums.

He opened the door for you, you ran inside the bathroom. You needed to wash away the sweat and grime of the day.

Once finished, you stepped outside, looking for your lotion and pj’s. You saw König sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows to his knees, rubbing his hands in circles.

“Are you washing your hands there?” You joked.

He said nothing. You kneeled toward your suitcase, got ready for bed in the bathroom.

“You okay there?” König kept fidgeting with his hands. Why did he seem ..Anxious? You approached him.

“Are you alright?”

He spoke softly, “There’s only one bed.”

“So?” Then it hit you.

Bed. (Singular)

One bed. (Sharing?)

König was sitting at the edge of ONE bed.

Maybe the universe had finally pushed aside the boundaries that König had been so fixated on. You had secretly said a small prayer —thank you so very much.

“Is that a problem?” You asked.

“No.” He was firm, but quickly added “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable. I didn’t plan this.”

You laughed. Only König would think because you shared one bed with one another it was malicious on his part.

“Would you stop it?” You shook your head and pulled him up towards the bed. You pulled back the sheets, nestled the pillows up around you. You pat down the side next to you and wiggled your eyebrows. He settled in. You settled yourself right next to him, a leg over his, an arm over him.

“This is okay. This is more than okay. This is the best..” you yawned

He was stiff. “… dove”

but as he peered down at you, seeing how relaxed you were, you closed your eyes against him, he then got comfortable with you.

“This is okay.” He says back. A confirmation. “The best.”

His heart warmed up with the thought of you being so comfortable, so at peace with him. You didn’t even think twice about sharing a bed with him and he did. Maybe he needed to shut off his brain when it came to you because this felt like home. This felt better than the couch.

He made a mental note of this moment.

It isn’t until weeks later that he confesses to you one night as you snuggle up next to him at his house —

“I don’t know why we didn’t do this sooner…Sleeping next to you is easy.”

[ao3-shenanigans]

I just wanna get back into writing with some fluff one-shots, any idea for interesting couples I could write about?

I dunno what fandoms you enjoy so I’ll give a couple different fluff prompts!

1. Baking together but A and B are both really bad at it

2. A and B signed up to foster cats- shelter called, there’s a litter with no where else to go (kittens and shenanigans ensue)

3. Grown old together- B takes A to get a C-PAP and fondly teases them about it

4. A quiet time spent doing parallel activities/making space for eachother’s needs

5. A and B go to a friends wedding and talk about their own (past or future)

6. 5+1 proposals; bonus points if some of the 5 include ring pops

7. A and B do a Top Golf or Putt Putt Golf date and get too competitive

8. Drunkenly whispering plans for the future together

9. Epic office prank war - coworkers take sides; bonus points if nerf guns are involved

10. Taking a silly class together - how to ballroom dance, make paper, paint, make wine, ect

Extra bonus points if it’s old ladies!