#i've been trying to crank this out for days

[inthemaelstrom]

So we're about six weeks out from another "most important election of my lifetime" and it's predictably making me literally sick to my stomach. When Trumpacabra got elected in 2016, I threw myself into politics in a way I never had in my lifetime and it almost wrecked me. I was one of those people who never voted for religious reasons (long, separate story) and I felt I had to make up for lost time. By the time 2020 rolled around, I was an unhealthy mess. I had stopped reading. Everything. When I wasn't watching MSNBC and political commentators obsessively, I started consuming absolute junk TV: home improvement shows, crack paranormal ghost hunter crap, etc. Things with no plot, no emotional investment, no danger. No fear.

Right before the 2020 election, old fanfic friends from my days in the Master and Apprentice Star Wars listserv found me and saved me.

They dragged me back into fandom, introduced me to Discord, and got me writing again. I updated a story I hadn't touched in 5 years. I made new friends online and in RL. I got some great fiction and fic recs from those friends and discovered a subgenre called Hopepunk—low stakes fiction with very little if any violence and fear and with happy endings. (Becky Chambers writes a lot of what I read, and Amy Crook has also become a favorite.)

One morning, I had one of those really vivid, realistic, linear plot dreams that literally dragged me out of bed to the keyboard. It was a meet-cute modern au of The Phantom Menace's characters, set in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I cranked out about 2000 words the first day. Then another 2000. Then another 2000. Then another 2000. And so on every damn day for the next four years until I had four novels, about 668k words, several timestamps written by three other collaborators who've come on board, some beautiful art I've been allowed to use, and now a fifth book in the works.

This is the Yooperverse.

It's not just The Fic That Saved Me, it's the place where I'm writing a vision of what the world could be like into being. A place where people with fucking obscene amounts of money don't spend it on themselves, or hoard it, or exploit other people to get more, but use it to help other people. It's a place where people who are bigoted dicks either get their comeuppance and crawl back under their rocks, or learn better and do better. It's a place where abused kids get rescued, everybody gets therapy and healthcare and is paid a living wage, people learn to value themselves and each other, and protect each other and defend each other. It's kinky and queer (although I'm neither) and above all, if not entirely safe to be both, I'm trying to write both things as just being another setting on the dryer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's not a utopia, by any means, because there are still assholes and the government is still ... the government, and capitalism is still a thing. There's some danger, especially in the first book, and there are accidents and illnesses and the vagaries of life. In the middle of the series, I had spinal surgery and was out of commission for a few months and that made me start thinking more about my main character dealing with aging and the limitations thereof. There's a LOT of mental health issues and the working through thereof, and a lot of ongoing process. Nobody's perfect. The world outside is still pretty much what it is. But in the little corners where my characters dwell, life is pretty dang good, sometimes great.

It's a vision of a life we all deserve. It's the thing I loved about Star Trek's universe, where people's basic needs are cared for and the obstacles to them developing their best selves removed. It's what I've loved about science fiction in general, especially Ursula LeGuin's: that opportunity to explore possibilities that are better than the present. It's modeled on the MacArthur Genius grants, but you don't have to prove your worthiness first. My main character invests in people's potential, young or old, with scholarships and grants and a steadying hand. His partner builds low or no-cost housing for people in need. There's an informal network of queer and straight kid rescuing going on under the noses of unfriendly governments and failed social service safety nets. The main characters build refuges, literal and emotional. They love each other fiercely and respectfully.

Right now, we're living in a country that is almost the antithesis of these ideas, for far too many of us. People are being manipulated by their fears, which are stoked by unscrupulous, lying shitbag politicians whose all too real evil would never make it past the pitch if you were going to try to sell it as a TV show or movie. They're consciously turning us on each other with lies about our common humanity, about the state of our country, about who and what's responsible for many of its faults, sewing suspicion and hate. And though the Yooperverse started as my personal comfort fic, I'm trying in my very small way to counteract what's happening in the world right now.

I've always believed in the power of story to change people's minds and lives, and I've experienced it myself. When I talk about story, I don't just mean fiction, though. I mean the narratives we tell ourselves and others about our own lives as a whole and day by day or moment by moment. I mean the stories we tell about each other when we're together, at the bar, at wakes, at a party. I mean the stories we invest in as fans in whatever kind of media we consume. I mean the stories we spin for ourselves and others to explain what the everloving fuck is wrong with the world.

Stories aren't separate from the world, they are the world. They tell it into being. They give it shape and purpose and meaning and a sense of possibility. Whatever stories we tell ourselves or each other about how things should be or how we should act as human beings (also called our "beliefs" or "morals" or "ethics"), they shape us, and we shape society. We are society, both together and as individuals. One person with a big voice and a story can tip a mass of people into either violence or solidarity.

I have no illusions that the Yooperverse will ever have that kind of power. It has a tiny audience on AO3 and Discord and it's mostly written for me to explore the things I feel deeply about, and wish I could do, and to teach myself to be a better person and live up to my own ideals. It's a world I'd like to manifest, to call into being, even in a small way. Even if it's just a story.

[scargivr]

arthleis -> SCARGIVR

[nguyenfinity]

Another project, a dozen drawings based on 3 rules you set for yourself!! mine were flower heads, shows the sky somewhere, and they're all different times of day

[ghostoffuturespast]

Being a writer is weird.

[stargazeraldroth]

we aren’t talking enough about how, as a shiba, pj can now do the Shiba Scream (TM)

^^^^^

[frownyalfred]

I am trying very, very hard right now not to write the "Ra's reveals Bruce is a killer to the Batkids" fic because I've already cranked out like 20k this week, but if you're looking for somewhere to start I've added some bullet points of how I think it could go down:

Ra's strolls into the Cave and is promptly tackled by the Batkids and thrown in some kind of restraints

This is fine with Ra's, he wants to talk with Bruce but he's content to wait around with the kiddos until his Detective shows up

Jason, Dick, and Tim are all present (by some small miracle Damian is out with Bruce on patrol)

Ra's decides to spend this time taunting and fucking with them one by one, because he already took Tim's spleen so emotional terrorism is his only option at this point

The Batkids have all been trained by Bruce so they know Ra's is full of shit and don't jump at any of his taunts

Ra's decides to change gears and digs his verbal fingers into Jason's recent blow-up fight with Bruce (how does he know about this? doesn't really matter, he just does)

Jason "no one insults Bruce except me" Todd doesn't bite and tells Ra's to butt the fuck out of his business

Ra's gleefully informs Jason, and the other Batkids, that Bruce is a bit of hypocrite, being so strict with him about killing. Considering he's got hundreds if not thousands of deaths on his conscience, at the end of the day

Jason is stunned into silence. Dick and Tim are shaking their heads. Ra's finally gets a reaction and doubles down

Ra's suggests that maybe that rule was formed out of guilt, and how much more useful and powerful Bruce was under his training with the League, how less burdened with mortality he was

Ra's tells Jason he should be proud, to be unburdened like Bruce once was, and to not fall into the trap of agonizing over rightful killing

....that's about when Bruce shows up, Damian in tow

Instead of interrogating Ra's as to why he's waltzing into the Cave, Bruce has to field three horrified looks from Dick, Tim and Jason

Jason points at Ra's, who's smiling, and asks, in the most simple of terms, if it's true. if what he said was true.

Bruce stares at Ra's for a long moment, not saying anything. His face is blank. His fingers curl and uncurl, the only sign of his distress. After an uncomfortable silence, he admits, yes.

It's not guilt, strangely, but resignation.

Anyway that's as far as I got before my next meeting, feel free to steal ANY of this if you'd like to write it! Because I will not be writing it...god willing...

[ink-n-shadow]

Angel reader and demon Simon first argument.

He storms off and leaves for countless of days, till he comes back with some fruits to ease his way into her forgiving heart..

this might be my favorite thing i've written for demon!ghost yet...

[ TIME APART ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where angel!reader and demon!ghost get into their first argument

𝜗𝜚 pairing: broken angel!reader x demon!ghost, brief incubus!soap x angel!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: mature themes (no smut but minors still DNI), angel!reader being a brat, ghost disappearing 𝜗𝜚 link to all my works in the demon!ghost au can be found here

"y'still fuckin' poutin'?"

the feathers at the base of your wings bristle at the sound of his rumbling voice, but you refuse to turn to face him, instead letting your legs dangle out over the bottom of your new cage once again suspended up above the expansive living room. your arms are locked tightly around the hand-welded bars, cheek smushed against one of them as you let out a rather petulant sigh.

all you had asked of ghost was if he would ever let you out—allowing you to walk the expanse of his palace with little restriction. it wasn’t like you would try to run away!

ghost just scoffs bitterly, muttering something about you being difficult under his breath before disappearing through the monstrous living room doors and slamming them shut behind him. the force is enough to rattle your cage slightly, causing it to sway from side to side and jostling you around a bit.

“don’t do that, ghost!” you scream after him as your fingers curl tightly around the bars, trying to keep yourself upright and stable amongst the tremoring movements. “you…you asshole.”

and that would be the last time you saw ghost for days. he would send one of his buddies (an incubus who you learned was named johnny) to lower your cage and feed you at the same times every day. at least johnny was more chatty and lenient than ghost, letting you roam around to your hearts content under the guise of “promise y’won’t tell ‘em? he’ll have my fuckin’ head on a bloody pike if he knew i let his bird out.”

you got to see places you’d never been able to before, like the large kitchen filled with gourmet meals and ingredients courtesy of Hell’s finest. you also found a smithing shop tucked outside near the labyrinth, stocked with the finest metals and blown glass you ever could’ve imagined. that’s where you see the scraps from when ghost made your new cage, multiple ruined plaques where he’d written things like “GHOST’S SWEET ANGEL” and promptly scratched through them.

but you know ghost is coming back one day when johnny’s delicately placing you back inside of the gold cage, latching the cuff around your ankle as his other hand gropes at the fat of your outer thigh (“so fuckin’ soft. how’s the bastard not takin’ care of ye yet, hen?”).

you can hear the distinct and heavy thumps of ghost’s steps before you see him, ambling into the living room with a large wicker basket full of goodies hidden neatly beneath a white silk cloth. you scramble to the other side of the cage, brows pinched together in reignited anger as you listen to ghost quietly moving to the other wall and beginning to turn the crank to lower you.

it’s silent as the chains suspending you groan with loud creaks, cage slowly descending from the ceiling until you’re once again safely on the living room floor. ghost doesn’t even breathe a word to you until he’s gently pulling you out of the cage’s bares, clawed hand pulling the cuff from your ankle and soothing the slightly raw skin with a gentle massage.

“y’have fun with johnny, i take it?” ghost muttered under his breath as he manhandles you with ease until you’re perched on one of his muscled thighs once more, thick arm looped behind your back to keep you upright and the other moving to card through your hair with an unseen gentleness.

you don't bother responding verbally, offering ghost a halfhearted shrug as you unconsciously sink deeper into the comforting touch of his hot skin against yours. as frustrated and angry as you are with ghost, you know deep down that you had actually missed him while he was gone.

ghost simply hums at your shrug, nodding his head gently as he pulls the wicker basket closer to his other thigh. "brought y'some new snacks to try—dunno if y'like 'em, but they looked good."

the demon doesn't wait for you to respond before he's uncovering the basket and letting your eyes fall upon the right feast he brought for you. it's stocked full of your usual favorites—ripe plums, pomegranates, peaches, wheels of different cheeses, freshly baked loaves of bread, and fresh cuts of meat and jerky. but he's also brought you an assortment of what looks like baked desserts, different cakes and cookies wrapped neatly in red ribbon. there's also different candies, sugared gummies and hard jawbreakers in neat pouches.

"don't be shy, angel. try somethin' f'me," ghost coos softly in your ear as he points to one of the small desserts, pulling your hand over and letting your small fingers rest on the edge of the basket.

another petulant huff leaves your lips before you're complying with his command, reaching out to pluck one of the cakes from the top of the basket and bringing it to your opened mouth. you can barely stop the soft moan of content that follows, eyes fluttering closed and a soft smile flickering onto your lips as the flavors of chocolate and peanut butter bleed out onto your tongue.

and ghost lets you eat in peace (and allows you to feed yourself for once), simply leaning back against the arm of the couch and placing a thick arm behind his head as he simply watches you indulge in the treats he brought. once you're full and satiated, he's pulling you up off his lap, standing up to his full height and taking the still almost full wicker basket up with him.

he's almost to the open kitchen door when he peers at you over his shoulder, noticing you toying with the gold cuff and trying to secure it around your ankle. "the hell 're ya doin', angel?"

"getting back into my cage?" you answer meekly under the heated gaze ghost is casting your way, trembling fingers letting the cuff clatter to the floor as you peer up at him with big eyes. you barely catch the soft shake of ghost's head before he's going into the kitchen, calling after you.

"no more cage, 'lright? why don't you go out to the garden for a bit? or y'can go lay down in my bed."

[gothcsz]

The Boy is Mine | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~7k wc | Part 1 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become obsessed with the new DEA attaché.

Tags: oral (m receiving), stalking, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation (f), we're humping a pillow y'all, light spanking, javi's gun makes an appearance, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, dubcon, no use of Y/N, reader is a photojournalist, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i told myself i was going to take my time with this but i've been hyperfixated on this song and music video since it dropped... imagining my favorite pedro boy and... well i cranked this sucker out so fast. oh to break in to javi's apartment and blow him into oblivion 😫 let me know what you think! i might write a part 2 if there's interest for it xoxo mwah enjoy queridas. 🖤

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

You’ve never seen a man so handsome. So determined. So capable.

So perfect.

You knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that he was the one.

You’d been waiting outside of the embassy in the pouring rain for over an hour trying to catch him while on his break, wanting to get a quote from the new DEA attaché on his plans to tackle the Cali cartel.

That’s why you’re here in Colombia. Fresh out of grad school with a masters in photojournalism. Your advisor had presented to you a great position in South America involving documenting the war on drugs and its subsequent effects. Despite Pablo Escobar’s death, this so called war remained relentless, and with your ability to capture photos that truly are worth a thousand words, your advisor knew you’d be perfect for the job.

So here you are, immersed in a beautiful country, working your dream job. It had its bad days just like anything else; but your passion and prowess made those hard days worth it.

When he finally did emerge from the government building, you shivered and it wasn’t because you were soaking wet from the rain. 

Your handbag did little to nothing to shield you from it as you held it over your head and jogged over to him.

He immediately blew you off, quickly eyeing your appearance before giving you a simple ‘no comment’ which would usually piss you off and have you press further–– however, you were left in a trancelike state by merely being in his presence.

He was more handsome than you could have imagined. You didn’t know what he looked like before arriving, solely going off the description given to you by your boss then what little his secretary had told you when you called to ask for a meeting earlier (which you were denied).

Brows cinched together in a perpetual frown, pouty lips turned downward in a scowl with chocolate brown eyes that make you miss the warmth of your hometown. 

He had taken your breath away entirely, leaving you standing there in a puddle of both rain and arousal as he darted off in the opposite direction.

That was all you needed, really, to be thrown into a pit of absolute delusion and wanton want for Javier Peña.

You watch him relentlessly. At first, it began with scouring through the archives, reading any printings that involved him, seeing his photograph on countless articles and video footage of him giving press conferences.

The more you dived in to the professional life of the agent, the more devoted you became.

Then the following started. To and from work. Late nights at the bar. While tracking down leads. You can’t help yourself, you are obsessed. Everything this man does is fascinating, further deluding you into an infatuated trance.

You don’t know where this side of you came from. You’re usually so unproblematic and independent, your sole focus being your career with little to no time to even fathom romance.

There’s just something about him that flipped this twisted switch within you, rendering you a cock-thirsty, lovestruck mess.

One night, you watched him bring another woman home and that’s when you realized how palpable your obsession had gotten. The jealousy that bubbled in your chest became unbearable. So much, that it led you to get out of your car, climb the fire escape of his luxurious apartment building, and onto his balcony.

You observed from the other side of the glass door, in the shadows, as he took this woman on his couch.

A plethora of toxic emotions swirled within you. Envy and arousal the most intense, your thighs clenching together at the sight of his bare torso against the gentle, warm light of the singular lamp that was on.

A sheen of sweat glistened over his tan skin. He is so chiseled with a softness that makes you want to run your tongue against every dip and ridge, all the way down to the enticing trail of hair that leads right to what you crave the most.

You sighed, fantasizing about being in that lucky bitch’s spot, with his hands running all over you, kneading and squeezing your curves, the scratch of his mustache having your skin curl beneath the coarser touch. You managed to control the whimper that threatened to slip up your throat in the off chance that it got you caught.

It’s not until you felt your pager in your pocket that you returned to reality, the buzz forcefully pulling you from your erotic daydream. With a final glance at their moving bodies, at him, you swiftly descended the fire escape and to the nearest phone booth.

Since that night you’ve been insatiable. You just need one taste, a small, micro dose of him to keep your hunger at bay.

It’s not until a few days later that you return to his apartment. He’s away for work in Cali (you followed him to the airport, watching him board the plane behind your thick sunglasses and a newspaper) leaving his place empty with no surveillance. You ascend the fire escape again, the city lights of the capitol twinkling in the distance. 

Slipping your gloves on, you expertly pick the lock of the balcony door before suavely entering the space. You’ve been practicing on your own at home in preparation.

It’s neat and clean. Not much personality to it which is unsurprising considering how stoic this man is. His hardened demeanor amongst the many things about him that drive you crazy. There’s never a break in his expression, always painted with typical tension and weariness.

You wonder if you could be the one who is able to crack him. To get a reaction out of that handsome face.

After surveying the entirety of the open space, you sneak down the hallway and push open the door of his bedroom.

Immediately, his smell engulfs your senses and your eyes flutter close at the scent. It’s comforting yet enticing; nothing different than what other men smell like, but there’s something about Javier specifically that you just can’t describe.

It’s so satisfying. A fucking aphrodisiac.

Walking deeper into the room, you diligently rummage through his belongings, beginning in his en suite bathroom.

With every little piece you study, you learn more about the agent. What toothpaste he uses, the brand of razors that he buys, the specific shade of blue of his towels.

Little things you wouldn’t be able to catch during your, plainly put, stalking.

Back in the room, you open the drawer that stores his shirts, your fingers running along the front of a brightly colored pink one that’s neatly folded at the top.

You imagine yourself walking around in this and nothing else, the softness of the fabric hanging from your curves, unbuttoned enough to expose the swells of your breasts, and maybe even a nipple slip to tempt him even further.

Would he think you look sexy in his clothes?

You now stand at the foot of his large bed, the window behind it casting the silver of the moonlight against the mattress tantalizingly, as if urging you to go full on goldilocks by climbing in it and pretending it’s a bed you share with him.

You stare and you stare, lower lip pinched between your teeth before you gently crawl onto it, lowering your chest so it brushes against the duvet as your nose trails up up up until it’s at his pillow, inhaling deeply as you get a more potent smell of him. 

A sweet moan pushes through your lips, your clit throbbing in tandem with your heart as you lose yourself entirely, your mind already conjuring an erotic fantasy.

Your lips against his thick neck, licking and biting the salty skin while he fucks you in missionary. The details become so vivid; that familiar furrow of his brows as he concentrates on your soaking cunt swallowing his cock, fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he praises you for taking his dick like the good little slut that you are.

You whimper, grinding your hips against the mattress, the friction delicious against your clit, while your nose remains buried in the pillow.

Deciding that you need more, you lift your head momentarily to grab one of the other cushions and then slip your jeans off; tossing them on the floor and placing the cushion between your thighs.

Positioning yourself at the perfect angle, you bring the pillow he sleeps on up to your face and begin to grind down on the one between your legs.

Drifting back to your lewd thoughts, you picture him beneath you while your hips move at a sensual pace. You know you’d take him bare, needing to feel every vein and divot… how thick he is breaking your pussy open while simultaneously molding it to fit perfectly tight around his cock.

His mouth on your bouncing breasts, nipping and sucking on your nipples while his large hand runs down to land a harsh slap against your ass cheek, groping the skin to soothe it before repeating the action again and again and again.

You move faster against the pillow, your now ruined panties only adding to the overwhelming sensation as the wet fabric rubs against your needy pussy. 

“Javier…” His name falls from your lips in a gasp when your face leaves the pillow, your body needing fresh air but you being selfish and wanting to suffocate in his scent. You know your wetness is smearing all over the pillow but you really don’t give a fuck at the moment, too caught up in your own pleasure and delusions to think of how wrong this is.

But it feels so good.

Your free hand goes under your shirt and bra to massage your sensitive tit, stomach tightening as your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

You think of his devilishly curved nose and how fucking magnificent it’d feel nudging against your clit while you ride his face. That position specifically has always made you a little nervous due to the thickness of your thighs and ass, but you just know that he would be able to handle it like the sex god that he is.

His tongue would lap over your slit hungrily, kissing your folds before wrapping his lips around the flesh of your clit and sucking hard. The phantom sensation of it is enough to get you to hump harder against the pillow and bury your face into the one in your hands once more, your cunt clenching around nothing as euphoria washes over you.

The room is filled with your muffled moans and cries of his name as you come undone, hips wildly thrusting against the cushion and your juices absolutely soak through it.

It’s an out of body experience, really, as you attempt to return back to earth.

You’ve never came that hard, especially not on your own.

Breathing heavily, you take what feels like an eternity to calm your shaking body down. Once your mind is a little clearer, you wobble off the bed and proceed to wash the pillow you just marked like a possessive cat, lounging around his apartment until you’ve made sure everything is as he left it before swiftly making your exit.

His return comes in the form of a news broadcast. You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when you hear the anchorwoman report that one of the Cali godfathers, Gilberto Rodríguez, has been arrested thanks to the joint efforts of the DEA and Search Bloc.

The kitchen knife falls from your hands and onto the cutting board as you scurry over to the boxy television set in your living room, fingers twisting the knob to increase the volume as he appears.

You’re kneeled in front of the screen, face damn near pressed up against it as you intently watch him command the room. He stands behind a podium with microphones pointed at him from every direction, cameras shuttering, an array of men on either side of him and a large crowd gathered at the front.

“I promise you… the other three godfathers will fall.”

You nod your head as if he is speaking only to you, “That’s right baby, you tell them. So hot.” 

You stand, attention still fully on the television as that familiar stir of arousal begins to heat up within you.

He’s home and your resolve is wearing thin. Thin enough that you decide to say fuck it.

You need another taste.

Dinner is long forgotten as you go to your room, pulling open the closet and grabbing a solid black box from the top shelf.

You purchased this little number when your fantasies had begun. Wearing it around your apartment while you teased yourself, roleplaying him coming home after a long work trip and using your pussy to help him forget the horrors of his job.

Using a realistic looking dildo, you imagined it to be the man of your dreams while you fucked yourself with it in a myriad of positions.

The outfit is simple. A short, black leather dress with a corset bust and sheer sleeves that cover your shoulders and arms, doing a great job of making you look sexy. The skirt falls at your upper thigh, exposing your nylon clad legs paired with simple black heels. You slip on your mesh gloves, your red acrylics popping against the black, almost see through material.

The ensemble looks divine against your skin but you feel like something is missing. Taking one, long look at your face you realize that you’re not ready to fully reveal yourself to him, so you turn back to your closet and your eyes light up once you see the cat mask you wore to a costume party not that long ago.

You smirk at the idea.

A sexy little cat burglar. Breaking in to take what she wants.

Putting it on, your reflection stares back at you and you feel like a whole different person. The corset cinches your waist just right, your thighs curvy and inviting beneath the stockings, tits pressed together and almost spilling out the top.

The lacy mask covers half your face, leaving your glossy lips exposed with cute kitten ears at the top. 

You’d fuck yourself, honestly. This new wave of confidence does nothing but fuel your determination.

Walking over to the opposite side of your room, you tilt your head up to take in the shrine of photos you’ve made of him.

Most come from you and your camera, all those days you spent watching him and documenting his every move. Others are from newspapers then there’s some messy sketches you did out of boredom.

Your finger comes up to trace his sharp features on one of the pictures, lingering on his nose and your pussy tingles as you breathe out a wistful sigh.

You can’t wait to try him.

Throwing on a black trench coat, you leave your apartment and take the familiar route to his. It’s raining, but not harsh enough to spoil your plans. Just a light drizzle.

When you arrive, your heart sinks at the fact that he isn’t home yet. Of course. He was just on TV! You hadn’t really thought this plan all the way through, absolutely blinded by your desire.

Whatever, you take the time to touch up on your makeup and fix your hair. The night presses on until finally you see his jeep coming down the road and pulling into the garage of the building.

With a final look over in your rearview mirror, you exit the car and cross the street to make your way up the familiar ladder, careful not to slip against the slick surface with the heels you have on.

Thankfully there’s no one out tonight, and if there was you aren’t sure how the hell you’d explain what you’re doing. You don’t even know how to explain it to yourself.

The butterflies in your stomach wildly flutter once you make it to his balcony, rain droplets adorn the glass door and you crouch to keep yourself hidden.

He walks in not long after, looking exhausted as ever as he pulls his tie loose around his neck and tosses his keys into a small bowl at the entryway table. His expensive dress shoes are kicked off, suit jacket slipping from shoulders revealing how broad he is. You bite your lip.

He stalks across the apartment, not even glancing in your direction, unbuttoning part of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves. His figure is a little blurry due to the condensation on the door but you don’t care, you’re under his spell as you watch him pour himself a glass of whiskey.

Wetting your lips, you can almost taste the spicy liquor as he drinks it in one shot before pouring himself another. Except this time it’s on the rocks.

Would the ice make his lips cool? Surely. A shiver dances down your spine at the thought of them pressed against your heated skin. 

The orange street light casts softly into the space, the shadows sharpening his features and making him look more rugged and masculine and just downright fuckable. You want to so badly break through the glass and take a seat on that chiseled jaw, to have him harshly grip your ass as you fuck yourself on his tongue.

He disappears down the hallway and into his office, giving you the opportunity to sneak in like last time. You give yourself one final pep talk before fully committing, slipping off the trench coat and tossing it aside.

After picking the lock, you very diligently and quietly slide the door open and enter, shutting it behind you.

Just like the cat burglar you pretend to be, you suavely follow his trail down the hallway, leaving a wet trail of your own from the rain, stopping at the cracked door of his office.

You see him hunched over his wooden desk, back facing you, deep in thought at whatever documents lay sprawled against the surface.

His back muscles tense with every subtle move he makes, your dark eyes taking him in entirely from his slutty little waist to the curls at the nape of his neck.

You can tell he’s been frustratingly running his fingers through his hair since it’s sticking up in some places, making it look so sexily tousled.

You want to tug on it, run your fingertips against his scalp while he devours you whole.

So lost in your observance of him, you don’t catch the moan that escapes you and his head snaps up at the sound. 

Your eyes widen and you take a delicate step back, still watching as he reaches for the gun that’s nestled against his lower back.

Trying not to make too much noise, you make your way further down the hall and into his bedroom, heart in your throat as you climb into his bed, laying on your side with your body weight propped up on one hand as you anticipate his presence.

This is it. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you laid eyes on him.

The first thing you see is the silver tip of his pistol as the door opens further, then he comes fully into view with that goddamn scowl on his face that makes your skin tingle.

His breath hitches once he lays eyes on you, large hands squeezing the weapon as you sexily wave at him.

“Hello agent.”

Your sweet voice fills the space, the muted sound of the weather picking up outside serving as the perfect white noise to set the ambiance for this scene.

“Who the fuck are you and how the hell did you get in here?”

Oh, his voice. So smooth yet raspy like the whiskey and cigarettes he can’t live without.

“An admirer that saw you took down one of the godfathers and decided to come thank you in person.”

His gaze narrows, gun lowering slightly as he contemplates whether you’re a threat or not.

You are, but not in the way that he thinks.

“How did you get in?”

“That’s a trick I’m going to have to keep to myself.”

You shift your body, moving to rest on your knees and you watch as his eyes lustfully trace the contours of your figure. You’re absolutely keening beneath the heaviness of his stare, loving the fact that you have his undivided attention.

It doesn’t even worry you that he’s got a fully loaded gun pointed right at your pretty face. If anything, it just turns you on even more.

“What do you want?”

“I already told you. To thank you in person.” Your eyes roll and his jaw tightens.

“Thank me in person?” He echoes your words with a dry chuckle, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Let me show you.” Your tone is hushed and dripping with suggestion, slipping off the bed slowly and sensually.

You watch his adam’s apple bob at your change of position, letting him see you in your full get up, watching intently as his eyes land on a different part of your body with every second that passes.

“Drop the gun, Javier.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I could do right now.”

You cock your head to the side, eyes narrowing behind the mask as you contemplate your next move.

He’s standing on the rug that’s spread out against the wooden floor which gives you an idea.

“Please? I’m not going to hurt you.” You whine with a pout, beginning to lower yourself to the ground as if showing him your unwavering submission.

The seconds that tick by feel like hours as you attentively take each other in. Then you hear it, your ears twitching at the faint sound of the safety switching on and it’s enough to spur you into action.

You don’t know where this newfound strength comes from, probably the adrenaline you feel of simply existing in the same room as him. You yank the rug, causing him to lose his footing as he falls onto his back with a loud thud, the gun slipping from his grasp and sliding across the floor.

He groans out in pain but you don’t care, pulling him closer, then fully on your knees as you begin to crawl over to him.

“I told you to put the gun down.” 

He’s still on his back, making no attempt to move as you draw closer. He does lean up on his forearms, dark eyes fixed on you, watching as you shuffle on your hands and knees until you plant your hands on his shins and work your way up.

You barely graze the hardening bulge in his pants, causing him to shudder, and white heat licks at your core knowing that in this moment; he wants you too.

The two of you don’t break eye contact as you straddle him, gloved hands falling on his pecs.

“I’m not usually like this…” you begin in a gentle murmur, running your open palms anywhere you can, relishing in feeling his taut body beneath yours after fantasizing about it for so long, “Shit, it’s like news to me, but I can’t ignore my heart anymore.”

One of your hands wraps around his tie, tugging on it harshly until you’re nose to nose with the man that’s been living in your head rent free for the past few weeks.

His lust blown, brown eyes search yours, as if trying to discern your identity which you assume he’ll never figure out. You’ve only ever had that one interaction and even then he had barely paid you any attention.

You feel his breath fanning across your mouth, so badly do you want to press your lips against his but you suppress the urge.

You continue to play with him, enjoying this sense of power you have with how compliant he’s being.

You expected for him to be fully dominant, which you know he’s capable of being since you watched him fuck the shit out of that one girl. But it seems like this, your taboo act and the suddenness of it, is affecting him in an entirely different way.

You put pressure against your palms, having him lay flat on his back and you hover over him, taking in all the small details of his charming face.

The frown lines, hairs of his mustache, blemishes and faint scars. Every little detail making you fall harder and harder for him. He has no idea just how much he means to you.

“What game are you playing at here, gatita?” He gives in, entranced by this enigma of a woman that’s perched over him. His calloused hands grip at your outer thighs, blunt fingernails almost ripping the fabric of your stockings.

You hum at his touch, loving the sound of the pet name, gently rocking on his lap and clutching his shirt in your fists.

“One where you’re the prize, handsome.”

You lean forward, sticking your tongue out and slowly licking a broad stripe from his chin all the way to the tip of his nose, curling your tongue when you flick at it.

His chest vibrates with a groan and you smirk at the feeling of his cock twitching underneath his pants.

“You looked so good on the news tonight. I couldn’t help myself.”

You undo his tie, toying with the notion of wrapping it around his wrists to detain him, but with what you have planned on doing to him tonight, you’d rather keep his hands accessible. 

Maybe next time.

You toss the silky fabric aside to focus on unbuttoning his shirt. He does nothing but remain silent, his chest heaving up and down while he suppresses the primal urge to take over and fuck this sweet little thing that’s dropped herself on his lap.

And you know he’s more than capable of switching the roles. He’s strong and skilled, could easily flip you onto your back and proceed to exert his dominance over you.

But you’re the one with the grand plan here, not him, and he’s indulging in your shared fantasy by letting you do whatever it is that you want, lost in a horny daze of his own.

The silence is comfortable and it further builds the sexual tension. You finish getting his shirt undone, opening it wider to get a better look at his toned body.

“So hot. You drive me crazy, agent.” You’re so wet, the slickness of your arousal seeping through the flimsy material of your thong smears against his fancy dress pants.

“Y tú, kitten, look like something out of a wet fucking dream. I have to be dreaming.”

You giggle, blushing at his words as some coyness slips into your facade.

“You’re not dreaming. I promise you.” 

Leaning down once more, you begin to leave wet kisses against the cut of his jaw, suckling on the warm skin then running your nose along the length of his neck.

You take in a deep breath, smelling his cologne atop of his sweat and natural scent and you feel so high. 

No amount of cocaine comes close to how Javier Peña makes you feel.

You suck a love bite against a protruding vein in his neck, a grunt pushing past his lips at the sensation of your teeth grazing the skin. 

Satisfied with your possessive marking, you lick from his jaw all the way up to his ear, biting down on the lobe.

“Now I’m going to taste you.” You purr seductively, leaning back to look down at his absolutely wrecked face.

His puppy eyes stare up at you like you’re the only woman in the world, a goddess that’s decided to bestow such an erotic experience onto him. He knows you’re about to ruin his body for any other woman that comes after you.

You decide to be a little theatrical, slowly pulling off your gloves to reveal your pretty hands and fresh manicure.

He can’t help but bring his large hand up to grasp your wrist, pulling your hand closer to his face as he studies your nails before gently nipping at your fingers, then slipping two digits into his mouth, running his tongue all over them and sucking them softly.

You gasp at the sensation, not breaking eye contact while he smirks at your reaction. Suddenly, lighting strikes and the room is illuminated for a split second in the white light. 

You both look so feral, suspended in this vivacious moment.

Pulling your hand away, you let it drag down his pouty bottom lip, pinching the delicate skin before shuffling back on his lap.

You hover again, this time at eye level with his chest as you place soft kisses against his brown skin, tongue peering out to lick his pecs then down his soft tummy.

His hips buck involuntarily and you pull back, tilting your head to the side as you look down at him.

“Stay still or this little kitten is going to find someone else to play with.”

A litany of curses fall from his lips in both English and Spanish, but you pay it no mind, your attention on his belt as you unbuckle it then pop the button of his dress pants.

Leaning down, you bring your face until it’s right at his crotch and you catch the metallic zipper between your teeth.

Slowly pulling it down, your eyes flit up to him and he’s intently watching you, his own tongue hanging from his mouth like a dog in anticipation of what you’re about to do.

You press your nose into the fabric of his now exposed boxers, nuzzling your face against his erection and his breath catches in his throat.

Your wetness managed to penetrate through his pants and onto his boxers, so you kitten lick your arousal from him and he lets out a guttural moan.

Basking in the sounds of his pleasure, you continue until there’s a giant wet spot on the cotton.

Deciding that it’s time you get what you came here for, your fingers hook at the band of his bottoms, dragging them down to his mid thigh and he assists you by lifting his hips.

His cock is so fucking big. Your eyes widen at the sight as it rests against his left thigh.

It’s thick, like you imagined, with ridges and veins that are begging to be traced by the tip of your tongue.

The color of it is a little darker than the rest of his body, the weeping tip plush and leaking with excessive precum from your foreplay. It’s cut with a subtle curve, long enough to where you know if he angles it just right; he’d bruise the fuck out of your cervix.

“Mmm,” you hum, licking your lips like a woman who has been starved for far too long.

“¿Que pasó, nena? Cat got your tongue?” This asshole, teasing you as if he’s not the one at your mercy.

But is that really the truth? One would observe that you’re the one at his mercy; considering your obsession with the DEA agent.

“It just looks so delicious,” you purr, bringing your hand to hover your face.

Meeting his gaze, you seductively lick your palm, wetting it with your saliva before wrapping it around his throbbing length.

“Mierda,” he hisses, head dropping back against the hardwood floor as you begin to pump him in languid motions, getting a feel for what he likes. Attuned.

His flesh feels warm and smooth beneath your smaller hand, your thumb swipes over his tip as you collect some of his precum.

You bring it up to your lips, sucking it into your mouth and you whimper at the taste. Salty, heady, intoxicating.

You need more.

Your hand leaves his cock as you position yourself in between his strong thighs. His dick stands erect, waiting for you to lavish it in your attention.

Leaning down, you poke your tongue out to run one long, broad stripe from his balls all the way up to his head.

He shudders, fists clenching at his sides while his slit spurts out more precum.

“I got you all wet, baby.” you gloat with a gentle laugh, repeating the motion a few more times.

Each groan of his and twitch of his body influences you to keep going, placing open mouthed kisses all over his base then up and down his cock. Making out with it.

You let a wad of spit fall over his tip and watch as it drips down obscenely over his length, bringing your hand back to pump him a little faster with a tighter grip. Your saliva drips from in between your knuckles. 

“That’s it, gatita, just like that pretty girl.” He’s getting more vocal now and you’re intoxicated, drunk off his praise.

You slap the fat head of his cock against your pursed lips a few times before letting your tongue lap at the slit then sinfully lick around the tip. 

Your tongue continues its assault on his girth, lapping every inch of it like he’s a refreshing mango popsicle on a hot summer day.

The attention is then shifted on his balls as you continue to jerk him, the tip of your muscle outlining the sensitive skin before you suck one into your mouth softly.

“Puta madre, bebita, esa boquita feels like fucking heaven.”

You whimper, nuzzling your nose against his sack and taking in his musky smell. Your mouth waters, drool leaking from the corners as you reposition yourself back over his hard cock.

You part your lips, taking him slowly, inch by inch as you savor the weight of him inside your hot mouth. Your hand remains at his base while you swallow him whole, tongue lapping around the bits that it can reach.

It’s not until you feel him tickle the back of your throat that you pull back slightly, sucking your cheeks in and beginning to set a slow pace.

Up, down, up, down.

He’s so fucking big, you’re not able to take him fully down your throat… yet. You’re gonna need a moment to break open your mouth enough to fit him.

He continues with his praises. The sweet filth that fills your ears urging you to be a good girl and to suck his cock like your life depends on it.

Because it does. All you want to do is lose yourself in him, to become nothing more than just Javier’s plaything.

Tears pool at your tear ducts from the messy head you’re giving but it doesn’t deter you. You just blink them away and take him further down your throat.

You splutter and gag as he presses against your uvula, causing him to inadvertently bring his hand down to the back of your head, fisting your hair.

You wince but the pain feels delicious on your scalp. You pull away and his saliva coated cock falls from your swollen lips with a trail of spit connecting you two.

“I want you to fuck my face, Javier. Can you do that for me?”

You bat your lashes, biting on your lower lip as you look up at him.

Your back is arched sexily, giving him a good view of your ass behind you as you remain on your knees in between his legs.

“Si, gatita, whatever you want.”

He gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding you back to his cock.

He slips back into your mouth easily, his hips bucking upward to fully bury himself down your throat.

You breathe through your nose as he begins to set the pace, much harsher and faster than what you’ve been doing on your own.

The filthy sounds of his groans mixed with your gagging and squelching of your mouth fill the room and it’s like music to your ears.

You fucking love this. Love the way he’s fucking your throat and using it to get himself off.

His other hand falls down to tenderly caress your cheek, cupping your jaw and that sets off an explosion of fireworks against your needy pussy, moving your hips against nothing. The simple act is enough to get you closer to your own orgasm.

Your fingernails dig into his meaty thighs when he manages to fully situate himself into your mouth, the tip of your nose brushing against his coarse pubic hairs.

He keeps you there, depriving you of oxygen and your jaw aches with how it’s been widely unhinged for the past however long.

You don’t care about your pain, you only care about tasting his cum when he finally releases inside of you.

“I’m so close baby, god damn it I could die in this pretty little mouth. Such a filthy whore, breaking into my apartment just so you can suck my cock.”

You whimper, the sound vibrating around his shaft and you bring one of your hands down beneath your skirt and panties, rubbing tight circles against your engorged clit.

He goes back to thrusting in and out of your throat while you pleasure yourself; both of you teetering on the precipice of your respective orgasms.

The hold on the back of your head tightens as his climax begins to peak, and the tension of it is enough to send you over the edge first.

You splutter and groan all over his cock while you cum, your release coating your fingers and dripping down your folds and onto your inner thighs.

“Fuck I’m about to come. You better swallow every fucking drop gatita. Isn’t that what you came here for? Ah-shit, to milk my cock like the perverted bitch that you are?”

If you hadn’t come already, you would be now with his abrasive words and rougher thrusts of his hips.

“I bet, fuuuck, bet that pussy tastes so fucking sweet and feels as heavenly as this mouth. Ay gatita sucia, you gonna let me destroy your tight little cunt or are you going to leave me with just a taste of your boquita?”

You want to respond, to tell him that you want nothing more than to have his cock split you open, to render you a mess that can’t walk for days after getting fucked hard by him.

His thrusts stagger and he comes with a primitive growl, his hot seed spilling into your mouth and down your throat.

You moan at the feeling and he holds you flush against his pelvis while he empties his balls into you.

When he’s finally drained, you tentatively let him fall from your mouth with a lewd pop, some of his spend still resting on your tongue.

You climb up his body again, noticing the bead of sweat dripping from the tip of his brow and down his chiseled cheek. His lips are swollen, much like yours, from chewing on it due to the intensity of your ministrations.

His dark eyes are swimming with lust and adoration, shallow breaths exhaling from his nostrils.

You open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out so he can see his milky cum against the pink muscle before you retract it and swallow exaggeratedly, smirking as you bring the back of your hand up to wipe the saliva and other fluids that coat the bottom half of your face.

“Thank you for keeping us safe from the narcos, agent.” You whisper, reaching for your gloves to slip them back on.

He watches intently before he raises the hand that had just cupped your cheek affectionately to the edge of your mask, beginning to lift it up to expose your identity.

“¿Quien eres, gatita?”

You stop him by grasping his wrist harshly, shaking your head.

“Un secreto,” you whisper back, close enough to where your lips are softly brushing against each other.

Moving his hand away from your face, your eyes gaze into his one final time before you lean in to press a sweet kiss against his lips. 

It’s everything you dreamed of and more, the feeling of his mouth slotting against yours in the most passionate kiss you’ve ever shared with anyone.

You pull back before things get heated again, your mission now complete until the next time.

“I’m going to leave now,” you begin in a hushed tone, “and you’re going to stay right here. You’re not going to follow me out or stop me. Are we clear?”

Another tilt of your head and you can see the resistance in his stare, how badly he wants to keep you here like a pet. His kitten.

But he nods ever so slightly.

“Will I see you again?”

Yes, but you don’t reveal this to him so easily.

“Only if you do something worth warranting a visit.”

With that, you rise from his lap, your long legs on either side of his waist as you look down upon this man you just wrecked without giving him your name or letting him get a good look at your face.

His eyes trail over you, trying to etch the image of you in his mind for the lonely days that are about to come.

He won’t forget you, that’s for sure. You’re about to infiltrate his mind in the same manner in which he infiltrated yours.

The soft click of your heels can be heard as you depart from his bedroom, leaving him with his soft cock out and pants down his legs.

Before closing the bedroom door behind you, you stop and look at him over your shoulder.

“Goodnight agent.”

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow before he scrambles to get up, grunting at the subtle pain in his back as he tucks himself back into his pants and picks his gun up to place on the dresser.

He follows your wet trail down the hallway and to the glass door of his balcony that you purposefully left cracked; an answer to his earlier question.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

He smirks when he sees the heart shape you’ve left against the surface. 

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

#27 with art if you feel so inclined! :) 🖤 please and thank you!

Sure thing!

Prompt: Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

Warnings: Established relationship, divorced Art Donaldson, smooches

"Did you eat already? I'm so fricking hungry," You grumble, leaving your suitcase by the door and striding toward the kitchen.

"Yeah, I ate."

"How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine."

"Are you sure?" You glance back at him from the kitchen. "Ken said you mentioned that it was stiff."

Art doesn't answer for a moment, eyes sweeping across your face. You watch him glance even lower before he shakes his head a little.

"It loosened up."

"If you're sure," You turn back to the sink, cranking on the faucet to wash your hands. "Don't push it if you don't have to."

"I won't."

"How did Lily's uh—Career day go?"

"It went fine. C'mere."

"Her teacher was so excited you could make it, I mean, so happy." You shut the sink off, plucking up the dishtowel to dry your hands before turning to the fridge. "Like, jazzed. I know no one uses that word anymore, but she was jazzed. Did you eat already?"

"I told you I did. C'mere."

"She's always been the coolest kid in the third grade in my opinion, but now it's official. Like—Peer official. Like, blue tick, you know?" You eye the contents of the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

"I just said I ate."

"No, right—Sorry. My mind's like," You shake your head. "I'm trying to slow down and catch up at the same time."

"Baby."

"I'm all jet-lagged and just jacked up. Fucking hate conferences."

"Baby."

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

You turn your head from the fridge, raising your brows at the sight of Art's small, amused smile.

"...What?"

"Come here," He laughs, holding his hand out. You close the fridge, rounding the counter slowly and eyeing Art with suspicion.

"What's that look for?" You ask.

"I'm not giving you any kind of look."

"Yes you are."

"I am not."

"I know that face, mister."

He chuckles, taking hold of your hand once you're close enough, tugging you down. You lower yourself over him, straddling his thighs and settling in as his arms curl around your waist. He leans up, sucking a gentle kiss to your neck. You bite your lip, shifting slightly as his hands curl in the fabric of your shirt.

"...Are we picking Lily up from practice tomorrow?" You ask as your mind races.

"Tashi's got her," Art mumbles, the hum of it vibrating against your skin.

"Okay, good. I mean—Not good like—I've got some errands to run and I have to wash my clothes from the trip. I don't wanna mess up her schedule."

Art groans, tipping his head back and leaning away. You frown, pouting.

"What's wrong?"

Art lets his head loll to look up at you, a pout forming on his lips.

"You've been at a hundred since you walked through the door."

"I've got things on my mind."

"I can tell."

"Alright—" You groan, beginning to lean away, but Art's arms tighten around you, leaning up and pressing his chest against yours.

"I missed you," He murmurs. You wilt a little, raising your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I missed you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Because I'm feeling very neglected."

Art grins as you break into a laugh, leaning up and brushing a kiss along the underside of your jaw.

"You poor thing," You coo, turning your head. He catches your lips with his, sliding a hand up to your nape to guide your kisses as you sink down against him.

"...Art?" You mumble against his lips.

"Mm."

"I...Missed this...And you..."

"Mhm."

"But I am starving."

"Pizza'll be here in ten."

You grin, leaning back to look at him.

"You didn't."

"Course I did." His hand slides around your neck, knuckles brushing against your jaw.

"You're gonna spoil me rotten, Donaldson."

"Or die trying."

[readychilledwine]

Size Kink

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

A Size Kink is a general term for being aroused by being smaller/larger than your partner. It can be height, muscle mass/weight in general, cock size, ect. This is generally a kink we associate with subs having, but in my humble 5'1" experience, I've met more Doms with this kink than subs (hence my 5'11" baby daddy who thought he'd never have someone short enough to enjoy this kink with.) This kink has several subgroups that fall into it and sex acts that fall into it, but my personal favorite to write is height difference and body frame difference. So tall muscular male, short female (curvy or lean.)

What I love about size kinks is that it's so focused on specific aspects, and ANY body type gets to play with it. Little hands? Little legs? Luscious curves? Member of the Itty bitty titty committee? There is someone out there with a size Kink who is into your body and thinks you are a piece of artwork and sexiest thing on the planet. It's so beautiful because it is a body type kink that does not discriminate, and as a sex positive and body image positive person, I think that's super important and comforting for some people.

💕Peep the Valentines Day list here💕

As always NSFW below the cut

Azriel x short!reader

Warnings - reader is VERY petite, smut, p in v, slow stretching

A/N - So, I actually have a request for a size Kink with Cassian sitting in my drafts as well from before I decided to do Valentines Day Bingo. Since I picture Cassian as an absolute unit, I used a more Megan thee Stallion vibe for that reader (tall and thick) so I decided to go very short and thinner built for this one to ensure they'd be different. I apologize if that bothers anyone. I will try to get that Cassian request finished asap to post it and make up for this 💙

Ps- with how quickly I am cranking some of these out, and how.... spicy some of them are getting, I don't have my normal outside editing all of the time. Baby daddy proof read this one. Before staring at me and going, "that wasn't fair." So, I apologize for any errors, as always, I will catch them on my fresh reread after it's posted 🫠

Azriel was slowly losing his mind as he watched you use a chair to be closer to Cassian's height and argue with him face to face.

You were just so… small. So little compared to the two Illyrian males. They towered over you. They dwarfed you. Hell, he and Cass had discussed several times how easy you'd be to manhandle, considering they were both so sure their large hands could almost touch if they were wrapped around your waist.

At 6’8” and 7’ it wasn't hard for him and Cassian to own a room or be the tallest males, but Gods when Azriel stood next to your 5’ frame, when he saw Cassian pick you up like you were no more than a doll. It did something to him. It made him feel like a God, like he was powerful, possibly invincible.

He had been further spurred on by over hearing you and Nesta yesterday. She had asked you about how, if the opportunity presented itself, you would manage to fuck an Illyrian, and you, you with your never back down attitude had told Ness, “Mountains were made to be climbed.” He did not know if you had meant that in regards to him, but his hand found his cock quickly that night.

Azriel walked over to where you and Cassian argued over cereal. The fight wasn't serious, but he just needed to remind you that even with a chair below you, you still fell a few inches short.

“Get down before you fall and hurt yourself, angel.” He put a hand to you, offering to help you down. You glared, but put your hand in his.

Offering to help you was a mistake.

He felt the blood rushing to his cock as your little hand sat in his.

He shared a knowing look with Cassian when you looked away to step down and get back on the floor. The argument resumed instantly, your hand still in his.

It stopped as soon as Nesta walked in. Her mate and you going silent and agreeing to disagree.

Well, at least you thought you had agreed. Until Cassian turned around, Nesta in his arms waiting to fly into Velaris. He looked between you and Azriel before smirking. “You know, y/n, you might have shit taste in cereal, but at least you're the perfect height for some things.”

You didn't get it until you turned to Azriel, plush lips parted to ask what Cassian meant.

The blush that spread your cheeks was sinful.

Another image Azriel would save when he imagined it was your mouth around his cock tonight.

Azriel's room was across the hall from yours, so he knew you were being subjected to the same torture he was.

He was sure all of the Night Court could hear Cassian and Nesta. He rolled over to his back, throwing an arm over his face and sighing.

You were so small, so sneaky, he hadn't noticed you come in and shut the door until you were sitting on his bed.

And fuck being in his custom made oversized bed made you look so little. “Hello angel.”

He made room for you, welcoming you under the blanket you laid facing him, watching him. “Do you all never.. get worn out?” He chuckled. “Because humans do. Males typically finish, then they're like, done, and asleep.”

He looked towards you, laughing and smiling so hard his dimples were showing. “Is that your way of telling me you didn't enjoy rolling in the sheets while you were human?”

That blush spread your face again. “I had plenty of fun before Hybern did this to me. Thank you very much, sir.”

You had done it. Azriel shut his eyes, growling at the nickname as he did. “You cannot call me that when you're laying in my bed, y/n.”

You looked at him, snuggling closer to him. You knew what you were doing to him. You had known for a while. You always tracked his eyes when he'd watch you take your heels off, biting his lip thinking no one was looking. You noticed him hide his arousal behind a mask of indifference when you would climb things around the House of Wind. You had also noticed Azriel and Cassian taking every chance they could to lift you.

You had even know Azriel was so sneakily listening to you and Nesta the other day, and you had meant it. Azriel was a mountain you intended on climbing. “Of course, sir. Wouldn't want you to have to use those big hands to keep me quiet.”

The growl that echoed through the room had your thighs clenching. He was on you in an instant arm between your breasts, so it rested on your neck. The other hand sat on your hip, inching forward. “Do not tease me.” You could feel him pressed against your back, mind immediately lost in how that would fit.

You may have been biting off more than you could chew.

But fuck it.

You had never backed down from a challenge. Why start now?

You wiggled further into him, grazing his cock with each movement. “What if I'm not teasing? What if this is an offer, sir?”

“You're going to regret that, little one,” Azriel's hand immediately was in your shorts, his other hand squeezing your throat. A thick finger ran your soaked core, pulling a moan from you. “Going to have to go slow,” Azriel ground his hips into you, needing that friction on his aching cock. “Don't want to hurt you, angel.”

That one finger entered you without warning. It was already a stretch, but one you welcomed.

You loved how everything about Azriel was so big. His hands, his muscled chest and arms, his wings. Of course he'd be big there too. Anticipation began to replace the fear. You relaxed into him, tilting your head and pulling him into a heated sloppy kiss.

Azriel swallowed your moans and cries as his finger opened you up for him. You were tight, so damn tight. His hand moved from your throat to your breasts, loving how they weren't even a handful for him. You were so petite and slim, he reminded himself. He pulled your tank top off, maneuvering the best he could to get you fully below him. He pushed in a second finger, watching as you squirmed so helplessly below him. “So fucking little,” he moaned. “Mother above you're perfect. Just perfect.”

He leaned back, fingers increasing speed the best they could with your shorts in the way while he toyed with your breasts, pinching your nipples and smacking the tender flesh as he saw fit. “Cum for me so I can sit you on my cock, angel. You can do it, y/n. Show me how tight you'll be squeezing around me.”

You felt like you were floating as you came, whimpering Azriel's name as you watched him rut against the mattress for some friction, hazel eyes damn near lost in lust.

He pulled his fingers out of you, wasting no time ripping his sweatpants off and using those juices to coat himself. Your shorts came next, torn to shreds as he pulled you to the edge of the mattress and rested one leg on both sides of his chest.

He was as perfect as you imagined. His cock was long and thick. He was running it along your folds, soaking up at the slick he could before smacking the head of it against your clit.

Azriel could help but to stand with his hips flush against yours, admiring how it looked like his cock would be damn near in your stomach. “Gonna go slow,” he mumbled as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Can't risk hurting my little angel.”

He pushed the head in, keeping an eye on you as you moaned out a long fuck before relaxing into his bed. He sat there, only a few inches inside of you, feeling as your walls stretched out to accommodate him.

He pulled out and slowly reentered, pushing a little more inside of you. Your back arched off the bed, a whimper of pleasure ripping through your throat. The burn of it felt so good. You felt yourself drooling already, mind numb, and lost to anything that wasn't Azriel.

He continued his motions over and over until he was flush against your hips, and you were screaming for him. You had cum just from him slowly getting inside of you, and now he could see the bulge he had created, the slight swelling inside of you as your body made room for him.

Azriel put a hand on the bulge, feeling himself inside of you as he began thrusting. You were squeezing him so tight, hand struggling to find him to hold on to something.

He felt himself losing control, pace growing faster and faster as he watched you squirming and moaning below him. His arms went behind your hips and back, lifting you off the bed and manhandling you in the air for a little while. He brought you to his chest, moving you to be against the wall that shared his room and Cassian's.

A silent brag, and message, that he could now accurrately inform Cassian how easy you were to toss around like a doll.

Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as you became a babbling mess. Your silky core was twitching and tightening around him all over again, indicating to him how close you were, how ready you were. “Az,” you panted. “So fucking big.”

“Yeah,” he kissed the top of your head. “Bet it feels so good stretching you out, doesn't it, baby?” You couldn't respond as a certain angle had you becoming pliant in his arms. “Fuck I know it does.” He was practically lifting you on and off of him, watching as you stretched around his cock. “You're close, aren't you, angel?”

You nodded, eyes glazed over and jaw fallen open to the perfect o. “Gonna cum.”

“Then cum. Squeeze my cock. You wanted to climb the mountain, right y/n? Fucking climb.”

You hit that peak on his command again, clinging to him tightly as he continued using you and stretching you out.

It took Azriel a few more moments, but he stilled inside of you, head thrown back in a loud growl as he came inside of you. He pressed you back against the wall, panting slightly as he stared into your eyes. He lifted you easily, allowing his cock to fall out of you and you to whine at the sudden emptiness that took place where he had filled you.

“This can't be a one-time thing,” his voice was almost desperate as he moved to set you on the desk, forehead finding yours. “I need more of you. All of you.”

You couldn't help but to bit your lip, nodding so quickly with a growing smile. “I like how little you make me feel. How safe you make me feel.”

Azriel's eyes almost rolled back completely as they shut. “Gods you are perfect.” He leaned in to kiss you, only to be interrupted by his door slamming open and Cassian and Nesta barging in.

A massive wing snapped between you and them, blocking your body from their view.

Cassian cleared his throat before speaking. “We want to know how exactly that worked. Show us. Please.”

“Show you?!” Your voice cracked as you turned to a smirking Azriel.

Azriel kissed your forehead. “Bend over the desk, angel. Gotta give him a show since he asked so nicely.”

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb  

@justasillylittlegoofyguy

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

[seat-safety-switch]

So much of our day is spent on time-wasting activities. You know it, and I know it. If I could have back all the time that I have used up, trying to find the tool that I just had in my hand, I would probably be able to have finished another couple of crappy cars by now. There's a whole cottage industry of variously-good-willed folks trying to tell you how to get this time back, but not a single one of them has a solution for the biggest waste of time of all: sitting in traffic.

That's right, traffic. We all hate it. Even fancy-dan city folks with functioning public transit still have to wait behind some dipshit clogging the escalator, or for the next train. It seems like we're always trying to get somewhere at the same time as everyone else, even if we've opted out of the rat race through a series of elaborate financial scams whose profits are funnelled through a Cayman Islands corporation.

I've tried a lot of solutions. Buying a four-by-four truck and just driving over curbs and through red lights when they oppose me. Buying a used firetruck, and cranking up the siren when I am getting bored of being in gridlock. Buying a little kei truck from Japan and sneaking into the gaps between lanes like Bangkok pizza deliveryfolx. Hell, I've probably even tried other ideas that don't involve a truck at all; that's how desperate things are getting around here.

For now, though, I'm learning to live with it. I realized, when I saw everyone else waiting at the stop light on their smartphones, that I could be using this time more productively. Don't take me for one of those one-eyed-touch-rectangle-fondlers, though. What I do is much simpler. My '79 Monte Carlo has a real big backseat, easily big enough for a baby bathtub or two. I pulled that seat right out, welded in a couple chunks of rebar, and I now have an engine stand ready whenever I want it. Will this light ever turn green? Don't care, because I can simply turn around in my bench seat and spend the time adjusting valves on this super-high-mileage propane Slant Six that I pulled out of the junkyard.

My cars have never been in better shape, and there's a bonus, too. Although it seriously irritates law enforcement to admit it, I am technically still "operating an automobile with my full attention" and cannot be considered to be driving distracted. Now if only I could stop dropping the inch-pound torque wrench when I'm merging onto the highway. This must be why all those fancy Japanese bullet trains have glass in their windows.

[black00olive]

Diavolo, Come Back To Sleep

A/N: How I feel after referencing Hamilton in the title: 🤓 Anyway, I've been cranking out fics like no tomorrow recently what's up with me o.o

Pairing: Diavolo x reader, a sprinkle of everyone else x reader too but it could be read as onesided or just platonic

Wordcount: ~1,200

Summary: Diavolo wakes up early, it’s required of him as future king, but it’s hard to do so when you’re here with him.

Sometimes— no, that’s not right, he shouldn’t try to lie to himself— Often Diavolo finds himself regretting his decision to have you live under the same roof as the brothers. He’s never enjoyed having these thoughts, seeing as his decision is what has led to so much progress towards his goal of bringing harmony between the three realms. The situation he currently finds himself in would never have been possible if it weren’t for you living in the House of Lamentation and subsequently having pacts with the brothers. Yet, despite these facts Diavolo finds himself grown used to the jealousy that had bloomed in his heart long ago.

The brothers probably see this sight very often, he’s heard from Lucifer how often his brothers tend to find their way to your room in the middle of the night (Lucifer is careful about how he phrases it, as if Diavolo’s internal lie detector would go off is he actually claimed he wasn’t like his brothers). How lucky, Diavolo thinks, bitter jealousy coursing his veins as he brushes away a stray strand of hair from your face. The light touch makes your nose scrunch up and your eyebrows furrow as you slowly shake your head as if to try and shake off whatever it was that touched you. His chest rumbles as he lets out a quiet, groggy chuckle and he feels his jealousy wash away as if it had been nothing but a bad dream. Even when not awake your antics seem to always calm him. The brothers might have had you like this before, but this morning you’re his and his alone.

As he stares at your peaceful, sleeping face he finds himself wondering what you're dreaming about— if you’re dreaming about anything at all. In any case, Diavolo can’t help himself from speculating on what it could even be that you would dream about. Maybe you’re dreaming about going on some great adventure in the jungle or desert or sea. Perhaps you’re dreaming of something more fantastical like being a superhero and saving the world— Ah, however, you did once say that your likes tended to lean more towards the villains most of the time, so perhaps you’re dreaming of something more sinister— more demon-like? Diavolo finds himself smiling at the thought, wouldn’t that be something? Either way, he thinks as he feels the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest against his body and your breath fanning ever so gently on his shoulder, whatever it is your dreaming of he wishes to make it come true. There is very little he wouldn’t do to see your beautiful and bright smile grace your face. When he had first realised that he had been a little terrified over the sheer power you held over him, but now he can’t help but feel some pride over it. Of course you— and only you— are the one that holds such power, it makes sense. In his hearts, it seems right.

Barbatos quietly enters his chambers and it forces Diavolo out of his thoughts. How unfortunate, he thinks as Barbatos pulls open the blinds in his room (though it doesn’t have much impact considering the perpetual night the Devildom is stuck in) and reminds him that it is time he starts to prepare himself for the day. He lets out a half-hearted protest but he knows that he truly doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter. This is just one part of his never-ending responsibilities as crown prince and future king. Barbatos gives him a sympathetic smile as his eyes quickly flick to your sleeping form, understanding evident in his eyes. It’s a curse that you are so charming that you have even his butler wrapped around your finger.

Closing the door as he leaves Barbatos is showing that he trusts Diavolo to be able to get up himself even with you in his arms. Usually, if he refused to get up when Barbatos told him to, Barbatos would simply force him up. However, in this case that would rouse you and right now you look so sound, neither of them have the hearts to do that.

Diavolo sighs as he gently lets his hold of you go. He stops all movements when your face scrunches up and you start to mumble something incoherent. Once you stop, Diavolo continues to slowly get out of bed; he really needs to get up now and he really wants you to continue sleeping, and it’s proving quite difficult to achieve both things simultaneously. Eventually Diavolo finally manages to get out of bed (though it had taken about 10 minutes longer than average) and he starts to get ready. He grabs the shirt Barbatos had laid out for him and starts to get dressed. It’s moments like these seeds of resentment start to bury themselves in his heart, right now he’d like nothing more than to lie back down with you until you decide it’s time to get up. However, duty calls and his duties are the most important of all.

“Dia?” You mumble as you rub your eyes and Diavolo instantly turns to you. He feels his hearts melt at the sight that greets him, you clearly still halfway asleep and slowly blinking at him with bleary eyes. “It’s so early, why are you getting up?”

Chuckling he walks back over to the bed and sits on the edge of his bed. “I have to get ready for the day,” he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead, “you should sleep some more.” He had only managed to get halfway dressed before you had woken up, so he stands up and goes to finish getting dressed. Feeling a small tug on the back of his shirt he stops and turns back to you, a mistake he quickly realises as he stares at you. A small frown, bordering on a pout, finds itself on your face and Diavolo doubts if you’re fully conscious currently.

“C’mon, you can stay with me a little longer can’t you?” You ask and Diavolo finds it getting increasingly difficult to deny you. He shakes his head and gently removes your hand from his undershirt before he walks over to where Barbatos had left his clothes. Quiet rustling of duvets and comforters and light steps over his floor is all he hears before you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back. “Diavolo, come back to sleep,” you start and he wonders if you purposefully know what you’re doing, “c'mon,” you plead and he lets go of the clothes he’s holding in his hands. You’re too powerful for your own good, Diavolo thinks as he turns to face you. He sighs before giving you a small smile. “Alright,” he whispers as if Barbatos will hear him if he says it too loudly. He’ll deal with Barbatos’ lectures later.

Right now, he just needs to sleep with you a little longer.

[tossawary]

When writing fanfiction, there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Mobei-Jun that I answer based on what I think is compelling, funny, and/or contrasts well against SQH | Airplane Bro. (Sometimes, based on what contrasts interestingly and/or hilariously against Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu.) The choices I make for MBJ also depend on what suits that particular story.

An interesting question: "What kind of literature does Mobei-Jun like?" He's Airplane Bro's Ideal Man / Dream Guy! It's fun to think about what Mobei-Jun's relationship might be to fiction.

One choice that I've pulled a few times now is having Mobei-Jun be functionally illiterate, mostly because I think that situation is an interesting / amusing contrast to the guy who technically wrote the world into existence. Airplane Bro was cranking out thousands of words per day to eat, selling out his honest passion for literature, and Mobei-Jun can't / doesn't read.

There are lots of different potential reasons for this! Maybe Mobei-Jun is dyslexic. Maybe he desperately needs reading glasses and doesn't realize it. (Yes, maybe half of his glaring is just squinting.) Maybe his education was really bad because his family tried to murder him too many times. Maybe he just doesn't have any interest in fiction or in reading as a hobby in general, because paper / writing is rare in the Demon Realm for a variety of reasons and he's been busy building more relevant skills.

(Airplane Bro is shocked and offended, yes, but mostly because Mobei-Jun somehow successfully hid being unable to read from him for two or more decades. All of those "you read it" and "you write it" orders suddenly make so much sense.)

Another direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" that I've been enjoying lately as a premise is that Mobei-Jun is the sort of person who would have genuinely enjoyed "Proud Immortal Demon Way". But, like, in a weird way. Like, maybe Mobei-Jun isn't there for the women or the power fantasy, but he's fascinated by the cage of dissatisfaction, misery, and cruelty that the protagonist is building around himself using empty pleasures and merciless vengeance. Mobei-Jun is there for the tragedy. Everyone else in the comments section would think that he's a weirdo for different reasons, including Airplane Bro, but Mobei-Jun is (by accident) operating on a level where he sees the vision.

Alternate direction on "Mobei-Jun would like PIDW, actually": maybe he would like it because he actually loves trashy drama and stupid catfights. He's there for the comedy. He grew up in an environment where his father stole his uncle's wife and his own uncle tried to kill him multiple times, after all. In PIDW itself, right-hand man Mobei-Jun somehow successfully suffered years upon years of Luo Binghe's harem nonsense, and maybe Mobei-Jun was having the time of his life watching Sha Hualing start shit in the harem, actually!

Maybe in a Modern AU, Airplane Bro would try to sound intelligent and cultured by talking to his rich boss / boyfriend about classy literature, only to find out that Mobei-Jun basically only watches reality television competitions where people are constantly trying to tear each other's hair out for money. If people aren't screaming in each other's faces over a spilled glass of wine, throwing plates at each other over a stolen boyfriend or a ruined wedding, or backstabbing each other via wardrobe sabotage to get ahead, then Mobei-Jun is bored. Fighting matches or extremely dangerous sports are also fine, though, sure. (Airplane Bro doesn't like any of this stuff. He's a fantasy novel guy. He has no idea how to react to this.)

Another funny direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" is that maybe "Proud Immortal Demon Way" wouldn't actually be weird ENOUGH for Mobei-Jun's tastes. Maybe Mobei-Jun would be like that guy who claims "if I can guess the twist, then it's not suspense - suspense is when I don't know what's going to happen next, period" and reads long-running, amateur, foreign, abstract web-novels that he has to put through an online translator himself. Maybe in a Modern AU with this opinion, Mobei-Jun loyally watches telenovelas and Bollywood soap operas. Airplane Bro comes into the room and says, "Wow, not even any subtitles? You can understand what they're saying?" and Mobei-Jun says sincerely, "No. You have to figure out what's happening without them. This is the intended viewing experience."

[alienoresimagines]

What if John was never shot down ? (John edition)

I've been thinking a lot lately about what would've happened if John hadn't been shot down over Münster so here are some HCs 😊 Warning : Lots of angst lol (Gale HCs here)

Let's imagine for a second that, after meeting with Bucky, clearly grieving, a bit drunk and all in all not fit for being on a mission, Harding decides not to have him on the Münster mission

Instead, he sends him to the flak house which was a decision he'd already thought about after Dye's party but Gale had convinced him to send John on a weekend pass instead

So Bucky is ordered to the flak house despite his best efforts to convince Chick he can be on the mission

He's so angry at everything and everyone : Buck for having left and being shot down, the 100th for acting as if Buck was dead (he's not, Bucky'd know), Chick for sending him to the flak house instead of giving him a chance to let him join Buck, either down below or even higher in the skies, the world for having taken his Gale from him

Most of all he's mad at himself because he left Buck, he wasn't there with him, instead he was spending the night with Paulina and while he was doing that Buck had already been shot down and he didn't know

He's in a strange place of grieving Buck but also convinced he's not dead because if he is, then there is nothing more for Bucky to do in this world

He lashes out at pretty much everyone but is somewhat grateful the doctor doesn't try to make him talk, and lets him be morose and quiet in his corner

He doesn't try to socialise with anyone and tries to drink as much as he can but there's only so much alcohol to be found in the flak house

He barely sleeps because all he can see when he closes his eyes are images of Gale bleeding, Gale unconscious as his plane goes down, Gale exploding with his plane, Gale pierced by flak, Gale terrified and alone

He'd be sitting somewhere and feel a ghost of warmth where Buck would usually be seated, close enough for Bucky to sling an arm around his shoulders except the space is empty

The Münster mission goes as it does in the show : only Rosie's crew make it back and that's the last straw for Bucky

Not only Buck's gone but now almost all the men he flew from the US with, Brady, Murph, Crank, his boys

Chick hasn't put a time limit to his stay at the flak house because even if he needs a Major now more than ever, he knows Bucky can't do that right now

Bucky can't bring himself to talk to Rosie's crew when they arrive at the flak house, too busy with his own grief and anger (a bit like he was at the Stalag except there's no Buck to check on him and pull him out of his own head)

He can't even look at them because why couldn't it be Buck who came back unscathed ? He immediately hates himself even more at the thought because it's unfair to Rosie and his men but also because Buck would never in a million years want that

He'd rather be the only one to go down if it means all his boys make it back rather than the other way around and Bucky knows that

More and more he can hear Buck's voice in his head, which isn't a good sign so he doesn't mention that to anyone, but he clings onto it like a lifeline. He refuses to forget what Buck's voice sounds like, not when he's already starting to forget the exact shade of blue of his eyes no matter how long and hard he stares at the picture he has of him and Buck from flight school or how long he stays awake at night picturing Buck's face not to forget it

Still Buck's features become blurry and John hates himself even more because can he even say he loves Gale if a few days were enough for him not to remember the exact shape of his jaw, the curve of his nose ?

Except that Buck's voice doesn't just sound like his voice, it says things like Buck would say

Encouraging Bucky to drink a bit less, to go to sleep even if he can only close his eyes without falling in Morpheus' arms, to eat more, not to give up on himself and not to give up on Buck

Voice!Buck encourages him to go talk to Rosie and his crew, not even to be Major Egan but just someone who knows what they've been through, someone they can talk to

And Bucky knows that's what Buck would want him to do. Knows that from wherever Buck is, he'd be worrying about his men and about Bucky

So he does the only thing that he can do for Buck at the moment and tries to pull himself in a semblance of a man

How ironic is it that even though he's not there, even though he's been shot down while Bucky was enjoying a woman's touch, Gale's still the one to save him ?

So Bucky starts to pull himself together and is eventually sent back to Thorpe Abbotts

He's not even 75% alright but he can do his job even though he still drinks more than what's healthy

Chick was never scared Bucky would pull a suicide mission because he knows that no matter how deep in gried, Bucky'd never endanger his men like that, but he feels a tad bit more serene when sending him on missions

Bucky is absolutely burning with his want for revenge and justice

In December, he learns that Gale's alive and that changes things

It's like a weight was lifted from his shoulders and he can finally look up from the ground to look at the stars and hope

Which is strange because he's always known Gale was alive, too stubborn to die, but now nobody looks at him with pity anymore

And the thought that Buck is down there in a POW camp makes him even more determined

He sends Buck's letters even though he has no idea if the Germans will let it get to him but he still does (girl worth writing too and all)

In the meantime he kicks up a friendship with Rosie

He flies his 25 missions but he re-enlists because there is no way in hell he'll be going home while Buck is still a POW

No, he'll drop bombs until Germany's unconditional surrender and the liberation of the POWs

He gets a letter back from Buck and he has to go hide himself in the cockpit of B-17 to read it because he knows he'll lose control of his emotions

He absolutely cries in relief and because of course Gale would ask him if he's alright and hope he's holding up okay

Not so gently threaten Buck into taking care of himself and not be the sacrificial idiot John knows him to be in his next letter, even though he has little hope Buck will do it

But if Voice!Buck was enough to pull him out of his hole, maybe knowing Bucky is waiting for him will be enough to give Buck something something to stay alive for

Bucky you idiot Buck was fighting and staying alive for you all along

As D-Day gets nearer he's more determined than ever to really deal a blow and bring Gale closer to home

He doesn't fly as many missions as Rosie but that's okay with him. Even if he'd rather be the one flying with his boys as many times as he can, he knows the work he does is helpful to the cause.

He still doesn't take his lucky deuce back from Buck's footlocker though. The bunk stays empty, no one daring to even sit on it. Bucky dusts Buck's stuff often, makes sure everything's in top condition for when Gale comes back

As the Russians grow nearer to the POW camp, Buck stops answering his letters and while Bucky tries to rationalize, he's still going mad with worry

Especially when he sees how's the winter is treating Germany

The nightmares, which haven't ever fully left, come back in full force as all the different scenarios for POWs haunt him

He absolutely refuses to imagine he could lose Buck so close to the end

And then April 1945 comes around

Bucky was on a mercy mission of his own when he comes back to be greeted with Blakely and Kidd, smiling wider than he's seen them do in years

Immediately, hope swells in his chest, echoes of POW camps being liberated in his ears

He welcomes back Gale like in the show, guiding him to land the plane with tears in his voice then immediately steals Jack's jeep to welcome him on the runway

Absolutely gives him the tightest, fiercest hug ever seen

He doesn't let Gale out of his sight for even one second, devastated to see the effects of being a POW for so long had on his Gale but so damn relieved to finally have him back

Is a bit embarrassed to show Gale how he's been taking care of his footlocker but tries to make light of it

"I knew you'd be back. Told any loony trying to take your bunk that you were just MIA."

And "I've been expecting you back for more than a year, what took you so long ?" though he's choking on his tears by the end of it and Gale's eyes glisten too

They hug for a long time after that

More in the reblogs because I've somehow hit the characters limit lol

[ranhaitanisgf]

Can I please request the love at first sight trope and seven minutes in heaven for Mikey :) (just an idea but maybe he sees her forms a crush and stuff then he invite her to a party hosted by toman) also I absolutely love your writing I've been binge reading!

— manjiro [mikey] sano // love at first sight // seven minutes in heaven

☆ ˎˊ˗ hi anon !! thank you for requesting for my event !! i'm ngl i did nawt kno what i was doin w this ... just kinda cranked this out lawl ... hopefully you all will enjoy anyways !! xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 1.1k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

you are so nervous right now. 

“hey, don’t worry about it! everyone’s going to love you!” 

“right…” you replied, still feeling nervous as you and mikey stood outside the door. 

you had been confused when mikey first talked to you on one of the rare days he came to school, and you were even more confused when he had invited you to hang out after school. you had only ever spoken to him in passing, so when he invited you to go eat out with him, you were sure that he was trying to play you. 

at first, you didn’t fall for his wily tricks, even when he ended up falling asleep on your shoulder when he was taking the train home with you, (yeah, you definitely didn’t think it was cute…nope…). you had been suspicious of him, wondering if perhaps he’d been dared to try and get you to fall for him, (unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time that happened). 

however, when he confessed to you, things changed. 

you hadn’t seen it coming at all, but he casually admitted to having feelings for you while the two of you were walking to get food one day, saying that he immediately had thought you were one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen. 

“i’m flattered mikey, but you can stop it now…”

“huh?” 

“you’re probably doing this on a dare, right?” you sighed, furrowing your brows. “you can stop pretending to like me now.” 

“(y/n)-chan, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen in my life.” mikey responded, his face dead serious. 

“w-what?! stop! how could that even be true?!” 

“it is true. you can choose to not believe me, but i’ll keep telling you until you accept it.”

since that day, you’d been unsure of how to feel about him. you really wanted to believe him and accept that he liked you, but at the same time, you were too scared that he might be trying to prank you. he really did keep his promise of telling you every single day though, which was slowly starting to convince you. 

and so, here you were. 

he had been bugging you to come to a party with all his friends, saying that he wants everyone to meet the girl that stole his heart, (it was a cheesy line, but it made you feel all fuzzy inside). when you finally accepted the invitation, you knew you wouldn’t be able to back out of this when you saw the excited smile on his face. 

“you ready?” mikey asked, bringing you back to the present. he was looking at you with a soft smile, calming your nerves a bit. 

“yeah.” with a nod, mikey opened the door, leading the two of you inside to where everyone was. as soon as everyone caught sight of the two of you, they were immediately staring, making you fidget with a lock of your hair as you stood next to mikey. were you supposed to say something?

also, why were they all sitting in a circle. 

“mikey, good timing! we were gonna play seven minutes in heaven!” a boy with pink hair piped up, (why was he smiling so much?). 

“hah…? everyone here is dudes…” mikey stated, obviously confused. “i thought we were gonna play monopoly!” 

“well, you’re right, so you and your lady friend can go first!!” a boy with long black hair suggested, suddenly standing up and walking towards the two of you. “you don’t mind, right?” he asked you. 

“uh, i suppose not…” you responded, feeling a bit confused as to what was going on. when you looked at mikey, you could tell that he had something he wanted to say to everyone, but didn’t, instead just staring at them with a deadpan face. 

“well, since there’s no complaints, let’s get this started!” someone yelled out, making everyone cheer. without a moment to spare, the boy with black grabbed both of your arms with a gentle yet firm grip, dragging you and mikey towards a nearby closet.  

“oi, just whaddya think you’re-!” 

“shaddup, mikey, you’ll thank us later!”

before you could even think to question what you had just agreed to, the two of you were pushed into the closet, a click! sound coming from the doorknob, leaving you and mikey in darkness. 

“uh…what just happened?” you hesitantly asked. you could hear mikey sighing, beginning to knock on the door. it was to no avail though; they had turned the music back on, blocking out his voice to the outside world. 

“buncha idiots…” he muttered. “it’s okay, they’re just playing a prank, so let’s play along!” he said. through the darkness, you could see him sitting down, gesturing for you to sit down as well.

when you sat down next to him, you weren’t sure what to say. you had been really nervous to come inside and meet everyone, but now you were nervous because you were in this enclosed and dark space, very close to mikey, (you weren’t nervous he was going to do anything, you were just nervous that…actually, you’re going to be too flustered if you think about that). 

“by the way, (y/n)-chan, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

“h-huh? why’re you saying that now?” 

“well, i haven’t said it today, right?” mikey asked, seeming to be thinking for a moment. “i don’t think so…” your heart was starting to beat faster; of course, he’d been saying that to you since he’d confessed, but being in such close proximity to him in this situation was making you feel more and more convinced of his feelings. 

“...mikey, you…” you started, your eyes dropping to stare at your fingers in your lap. “you’re the best person i’ve ever met. i really like you.” you finally let out, shutting your eyes in anticipation. 

maybe i shouldn’t have said that…

“woah, seriously…?” you heard him say. you slowly opened your eyes, glancing over at mikey beside you. 

he was looking at you with the most childish and excited expression; you could almost see the sparkles in his eyes as his lips were curled into the most boyish and cute smile you’ve ever seen. 

“are you serious right now? you’re not joking?!” he asked, his voice shaking with nervousness and excitement. 

“no, i wouldn’t joke about that…” you murmured, smiling shyly at him. 

he suddenly moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your frame tightly as you pulled you close to himself, his face buried in your neck. 

“ahh, i’m so happy right now…” he said, his voice low and soft, (you were trying to not focus on the fact that you could feel his breaths against your skin). 

hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around him as well, relishing in the way that he held you a bit tighter, as if he was never going to let you go. it felt like there was nothing that could affect you while in his arms; all you knew was mikey. 

“thank you for trusting me, (y/n)-chan.”

[brittle-doughie]

OH GOD THERE'S TWO OF THEM

hiiii Brittle, its me, Blue Bird Anon! I come bearing gifts of cookie sprites! Crowned Cupcake Cookie (based on Runebrave's lovely design) and her brother of my own creation, Royal Icing Cookie. I had a lot of fun designing and drawing them so I hope you and everyone enjoy as well! (pssst also my art blog is scarabeeart ;3)

I saw an anon guess that Royal Icing was the pure opposite of his sister, and while that wasn't my original concept for him, I thought the contrast between the two would be a very funny idea hjggffg him being a totally normal, genuinely good guy while his sister is. like that.

But the idea I had for him was a classic prince charming, but with the levels cranked to 11. Brave, chivalrous, humble, generous, rides a white horse, he's got it all! All he wants is to sweep Y/N Cookie off their feet like in a romantic fairy tale and ride into the sunset for their perfect happily ever after together <3 May let the prince charming thing go to his head as he has a secret hero complex and will often put Y/N Cookie into danger purely just so he can heroically swoop in and rescue them. And while his sister is more physical with her use of force to chase away those who get too close to Y/N Cookie, Royal Icing is more manipulative and unhanded. Not above willing to plant fake evidence on other suitors and use it as a way to turn Y/N against them and only trust him. "These Cookies are merely trying to marry you only to claim the throne, they want to usurp you, your adviser is scheming and plotting against you" and all the other fairy tale tropes. Will never fess up to sneaking around because his perfect prince image is incredibly important to him. You trust him, right? He's your fiance! Your prince charming, your knight in shining armor. Of course he wouldn't lie to you <3

(hehe sorry for writing so much! I've been thinking about this for too long hjgfhjgf)

First of all.

That’s some damn incredible work you made here. You are getting a follow from me!

Crowned Cupcake now actually looks like canon compared to my more simple style! She’s even pulling a Cherry Blossom with that triangle mouth there!

Royal Icing too! He looks just as amazing, definitely the charismatic type that no cookie would doubt has a dark side to him! Both of them are just wonderfully done and I really appreciate you taking the time out of your day to do this!

I did think about Icing being exactly like his sister rather than being a kind soul, with him taking the more psychological approach rather then the brute forcing Crowned would do. He’s willing to play any card in his hand to turn it in his favor, even if it meant falsely accusing other cookies if it meant getting them of the picture.

You would trust him more at first. After all, he hadn’t done anything wrong to warrant any kind of suspicion on him! These liars can’t prove anything against your Prince, so you’ll take his side more often then not.

Overall, this is spectacular and I greatly appreciate the work that was done here!