#write with glee and abandon!

[marlynnofmany]

Write like you're pitching the story to a group of grinning friends, all of whom are You from various ages in your past. Have fun with it. Other people will probably like it too, as long as you do.

If you're ever worried about whether your writing is too self indulgent, I just want you to remember that Sharknado had 5 sequels. I'm only partway through watching Sharknado 6: It's About Time, but already they've traveled through time and ridden a pteronadon into a Sharknado so they could use the magic teleportation portal inside of it to travel forward in time to King Arthur's time, where they are currently battling a Sharknado full of fire-breathing dragon sharks with Excalibur, which is a chainsaw sword that calls lightning. You're fine. In fact, be a little more self indulgent if anything.

[katyobsesses]

I think my glee obsession is returning in full force

[exploresmallworlds]

Writing Prompt Abandoned Warehouse

Writing Prompt – Warehouse Looking at herself in the screen of her phone, her photo application open and taking stock of how she looked. She’d gone to a lot of effort to look like an adventurer, she’d popped into a couple of shops and picked out what she saw on the crazy aesthetic abandoned buildings chic. To be honest she’d watched quite a few of these videos and she walked around quite a few…

[zyafics]

hihihi i love ur fic ‘wildflower by five seconds of summer’ which was a best friends to lovers, I was wondering if you could do a fox where he’s reassuring her that he’s attracted to her and idk. But she basically feels that they were best friends for so long that maybe he’s just dating her for her personality and doesn’t actually want to see her idkkkk but I think you’d be super good at writing this one

omg thank you!! something about bsf!reader gives me so much energy to come up with them so let’s get to it ���🏼

REAL OR NOT REAL | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing — BSF!Rafe x Wildflower!Female Reader

Word Count — 1.7K.

Content — fluff, Rafe comforting Reader about her insecurities, happy endings.

You always been aware of Rafe’s type.

There’s a certain degree that sparks Rafe’s interest, and how you slot into his future, but it hadn’t matter to you. Especially since you’re together now, it’s a constant reinforcement that he chose you out of all the girls on his roster. And he’ll keep choosing you because you’re his best friend.

At least, that’s what you like to think.

Your first cloud of doubt came in the form of an engagement.

When Kelce sank to the floor on one knee, holding up a sparkling diamond ring, he didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence before his girlfriend, Aria, leaped into his arms, squealing out a yes!

From there on, the entire restaurant cheers at the vow, and you alongside it, clapping your hands together with the utmost glee. You’re happy for your friend, and his embarkment on this new stage in his relationship. And you rejoiced in that feeling, floating in its bubble, until Topper came over to clap a hand on Rafe’s shoulder.

“How do you feel, man?” Topper asks, looking directly at your boyfriend.

“What do you mean? I didn’t get engaged,” Rafe huffs with a roll of his eyes, and you laugh, wrapping your arms around his bicep. He glances down at you with a soft smile.

“Not that,” Topper scolds, “In general. We always thought it would be you first.”

Your shoulders slouch. “What?” You question, but your voice is soft in the loud atmosphere. They didn’t hear you. Somehow, Kelce manages to enter at the tail-end of the conversation.

“Yeah, Rafe, never thought I’d beat you out,” Kelce laughs.

“You didn’t beat me,” Rafe declares calmly, holding up a glass of whiskey.

“I’m one step ahead of you,” Kelce refutes. “Didn’t you have a whole future planned? The house, the wife, the kids? The whole nine?”

“He’s been saying it since we were teens,” Topper adds. “Changed your mind?”

Rafe shrugs, appearing indifferent, but something cold runs through your veins. He lifts the glass to his lips. “When it happens, it happens.”

“Make it happen soon, alright?” Kelce adds with a grin, just as Aria slides beside him and he wraps a protective arm around her waist. “Because we’re planning a family, and my kids are gonna need your kids to keep them in check.”

“Or the other way around,” Aria comments with a chuckle, and the entire night went on as such. You celebrate among your friends at the restaurant of their engagement, the waitstaff brings out a glorious dessert for the couple, and everyone is in high spirits.

By the time you come home, all that energy disperses, and everything comes flooding back.

You almost forgot. Before Rafe and you got together, he had envisioned a future that didn’t match yours. He wanted a wife and kids, all before the age of thirty. He didn’t want to wait, as he always said before, he wanted it to be young, to start early, just as his father did.

You don’t feel the same. You grew up in a household that abandoned you to your own devices, hollowed out in creaky hallways and subdued by a rotation of maids and servants in and out of your estate. You always knew you wanted kids later, or not at all because you wanted to take time and travel the world.

This doesn’t match Rafe’s.

Yet, it was never brought up. You were so consumed by the bliss of finally having each other, that you neglected the very foundation of what it means to be in a relationship in the first place—to address the conversation of a different yet nearing future you each carved out for yourself.

Doubt begins to lament every inch of your skin as to why Rafe is with you in the first place. He had known this–he’s your best friend—he knows you’re different from what he wants and he still pursues it? Was it for fun? Was it to pass the time until he found someone more compatible to match his needs? Perhaps, even a chance, Rafe was so used to having you at his side that it was easier to seduce you into the most natural next-step role. He didn’t actually like you, your brain argued, he got with you out of pure convenience.

So, you start distancing yourself. Every invitation to spend with the newlyweds was declined, and every inquiry to come over to your house was subsequently ignored. It got to the point where, a week in, Rafe finally had enough and came into your house unannounced.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Rafe demands upon entering your room, his eyes sliding across the place to find the messiness of your sanction, pillows, and blankets thrown to different corners. Almost ditch-like, as if you hadn’t had the chance to leave—in fear of encountering him.

“What?” You ask meekly, shoulders slouching inwards, making yourself small.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he declares accusingly.

“Not true,” you argue.

He glares. “Don’t lie to me.”

You hesitate, digging your nails into the sheets and playing with the covers of your bed. “I just need some time for myself; to think,” “About what?”

You inhale sharply, trying to fizzle out your nerves. All your thoughts and rumbustious questions lead to this final end. This is it.

“I think we could break up.”

For the first time since Rafe’s entry, he’s taken aback by your statement. He unconsciously takes a step backward, brows drawn together, throat tightening. “What?” He replies, his voice low.

Now or never.

“I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days, and I think it’s the best option,” you reason, trying to appear as if this comes from a place of logic rather than insecurities. “For our future.”

“Our future?” He repeats, testing the words on his tongue.

“We’re not compatible,” you continue, the confession slicing at your chest. Tightening your skin. “I want certain things, and you want different things. Honestly, I don’t even know why you liked me in the first place. We were better off as—”

“Slow down,” Rafe cuts you off. You’re going so frantic, trying to streamline a sense of continual thought, that he thought you were going into a panic attack. Rafe lowers himself to your level, taking a precarious step forward and encroaching on your bed. “What do you mean?”

“We should break up.”

“No,”

“Rafe,” you pout, eyes softening, trying to let him go the gentlest way possible. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“You’re being unreasonable,”

“I’m being logical,” you argue.

He scoffs. “Logical? You’re breaking up over a problem that doesn’t exist. Incompatible? Really? You had a whole week to come up with an excuse and that’s what you settle on?”

Your shoulders sink. You play with the frayed threads of your comforter, and the mattress dips to accommodate his weight. His hand hovers over yours, halting your nervous antics and forcing your gaze back onto his.

“What happened?” Rafe asks gently.

“I can’t give you what you want,” you murmur with a cry, pathetically feeling like you’re close to tears.

“Okay,” he cautions slowly. “What do I want?”

“Not me,” you insist weepingly, “I don’t want kids, or to be a housewife. Being in your life, I ruin your plans.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, cradling your face. “I don’t care about that.”

Your heart beams with hope, before being smothered by the reminder that this is a trick to ease your thoughts. “You don’t want kids?”

“Of course, I want them,” your chest tightens. “But I want them with you when you’re ready.”

He adds. “I was serious that night,” he reminds you of that first night when you two became an item. “It’s you or nothing.”

You remain quiet.

“What else? Hit me.”

“I’m afraid,” you confess quietly.

“Of what?”

“That you don’t really like me. I think you’re with me because it’s the easiest thing, or perhaps you don’t want to let me down or—”

“Calm down, wildflower,” he breaths out, dropping his hand to your chest, forcing your intake to steady. They do, calming under his palm. “How about I tell you what I feel instead of you making assumptions?”

He’s right. That’s logical. As you nod, composing your words, you slowly draw a steady breath. “Do you want a housewife?”

“I do,” he answers honestly. “But I only want you.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask. “I don’t want to be one?”

“Then you won’t, simple as that.”

Your eyes pan across his handsome face, trying to uncover any mistruths, but you find none. It settles something in you, and you reveal your next step of doubts.

“You said you wanted to settle down before your 30s,” you remind him.

“That was before I knew this,” he gestures between you, “had a chance.”

“So you change your plans for me?”

“You’re my future,”

You swallow hard. “And if I don’t want to? Not just settling down—but I want to travel the world, and experience adventure, what do you say?”

He comes forward, cupping your chin and forcing your gaze on his. “I say do whatever the hell you want, as long as it’s with me.”

You brush your hands against his jaw, stopping your questions, before having one more on the tip of your tongue. Rafe nods encouragingly, “Anything else?”

You hesitate, and Rafe’s hand slides up your neck, finding that sensitive spot, and cradles it under his palm. “Ask the last one.”

Exhaling, you ask, “Do you like me?”

“Baby, you’re the love of my fucking life. I don’t think there’s anyone I like more than you.”

A blanket of comfort wraps around you, your heart softens, expression relaxes. Your brows pinch together, and they look up at him with utmost guilt. “I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“Don’t be,” he leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead. “You needed that. But I’m here to remind you—I want you. I chose you. The only way someone’s leaving this relationship is through death.”

You laugh softly, tears crowding your vision. “Is that a threat?”

“I think it’s a vow,” he murmurs, closer between you and pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “In sickness and in health, or whatever.”

Your hands run through his hair, pulling him closer, “How about let’s stay in bed and figure out the rest later?”

His hand catches the mattress, and his body presses against yours, forcing you onto your back as he covers you. And he kisses you again. And again. Until you’re out of breath. “I like the sound of that.”

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[finniestoncrane]

HELLO I'm in love with the way you write for Cooper 😩👏💝fix idea: I was thinking he's DEFINITELY somebody who doesn't care who he looks anymore, but is still aware that he's got that CHARM yano, but maybe the reader is just "wow your eyes are so pretty" and he fuckin BLUSHES (Mr cooper Howard aka Mr ghoul cowpoke absolutely keels over cus somebody said he was puuuurrtty) 💥💥💥🔫 just all "shut your pie hole girlie" and shes 😏😏😏 ok handsome

Can Ghouls Blush?

Cooper Howard x GN!Reader, word count: 1k aaaaah thank you ;-; also i love this, i love the idea of flustering that horrible boy omg 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some threats (imean it's cooper), guns, mostly fluff though!

“I know time means very little to someone who has been around for two hundred years, but how much longer are you gonna be?”

Cooper’s voice echoed out from the main room of the abandoned building you had slept in. From the bathroom, you could hear the frustration, despite his attempts to soften it up. He had no time for fun, no time for relaxing. It was survival and sweating, or nothing at all. But you could tell he had tried to soften it up a little, just for you. His irritation was still so obvious however, even as he offered you a playful roll as he approached the door, catching your eye in the reflection of the cracked mirror.

“Just a sec, then we can head out.”

The old hairbrush you had found by the sink was a well-received miracle. A little bit of normality, a chance to tidy yourself up somewhat.

“I just think it’s a waste of time is all. Preening for the Wasteland. I mean, who are you trying to impress out there? You already got the best catch.”

He flicked the brim of his hat with his gloved fingers, grinning wide, yellowed teeth bared at you as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“That’s exactly the problem. I have to make sure I look good to keep up with you, handsome.”

Your hand stroked along his cheek, a brief moment of eye contact as you walked past him towards the door of the bathroom and back out to the front of your temporary shelter.

“Handsome, huh?”

His voice seemed so much lighter now, more so than you had ever really heard before. And as you turned, you noticed the slight smile on his weathered lips, cheeks pulling up at the corners, eyes glinting as he stared straight back at you.

“Uh… yeah. You’re a very handsome guy, Coop.”

You almost had your fingers on the door knob, ready to leave for the start of your day, when you realised that you couldn’t feel Cooper’s presence behind you. Turning to see what was holding him up, you caught something in his eyes. A look of confusion, almost. Surprise. Disbelief. And a little bit of what you could swear was embarrassment. All this time together. Sleeping in each other’s arms, protecting each other from danger. Had you really never expressed to him your attraction? You had just assumed he knew. You spent long enough staring lustfully at him, it was surely a given. So you worried there was something else to it.

“What’s wrong, Cooper?”

“Nothing, I just… I was used to being called handsome, long time ago… not so much these days.”

As you stepped back towards him, closing the short distance, you could make out his expression much better, realising how astute your previous observation had been.

“Oh my god… Coop, are you blushing?”

He raised one finger, narrowing his brows as he tried to hide the endearing glee, offering you a forced stern look as he spoke.

“Don’t start playin’ stupid with me, you know I am not.”

Biting your lip, a mischievous smile forming, you gripped the lapels of his duster, teasing him as you stroked your thumb along one of his ridged, warm cheeks.

“Why, I didn’t even know big tough cowboys could blush, especially not the more ghoulish ones.” Can they blush? I'll need a closer look."

His fingers were tight around your wrist, gripping you fast and firm. He was trying so hard to maintain his tough exterior, but you could tell there was something softer in there that longed to come out, or at the very least, was desperate for someone to notice it. It was so obvious, even as he lowered his voice and growled at you.

“You turn around right now and start walkin’ out that door.”

Cooper took a step forwards, an attempt to regain his control of the situation, to push you towards doing his will, but you brought your hand up and laid your palm against his chest.

“Wait, just a second…”

It was nice to see him in this light. His confidence was always the dominant feature in his peronality, and it rarely wavered, if at all. But to know there were aspects of himself that he wasn't as sure of, and to know you could render him a little flustered just by complimenting them, made you smile. A grin that was returned by Cooper as you gazed into his warm, brown eyes.

"What is it you're lookin' for now, huh? You find it?"

"Yeah... turns out they can blush."

You turned quickly from him, practically skipping back towards the door of your temporary shelter, ready for another day of survival, this time tinted with a little more joy than usual. Your smile only grew wider as you heard Cooper, catching up with you, still trying to cover his embarrassment with the strained, empty aggressive threat that he chased you with.

"Now I will shoot you, you know that? You're pushing your luck today and we ain't even done anythin' yet."

But when he was certain you weren’t going to turn back around, he let himself smile a little. A soft glow in his eyes as he allowed himself to remember who he was, really. The kind of man that resided deep down inside, buried by years of solitude in the deep, dark ground, of struggling to adjust to the world. And struggling to adjust to himself. Even just a tiny reminder that, despite his charms and the charisma that tended to pull people in, that there was a bit of his old self left. That despite everything, despite who he had become, both physically and emotionally, someone might look at him with something other than fear first. With kindess, or lust. Or even love. That was enough to help him cling to the memories and look to the future with just the tiniest bit of hope, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“You comin’, handsome?”

He smiled, biting his lip to curtail the spread of the easy grin.

“You bet.”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙊𝙐𝙍: 69 w/ Dean Winchester

a/n: i'm actually so proud of myself because i'm exploring all different kinds of dynamics, and i can already tell that it's going to help further my writing abilities. like opening up new doors and what not. anywho, this is nasty and dirty and happy reading!!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

“I’m going to crush you.” 

Was your response to Dean bringing up the fact that he had wanted to try out 69ing.

“Baby, you’ve sat on my face before, I think I’ll be okay.”

You blink at him, slow and assessing before shrugging, because he did have a point there.

“Fine.” You say, beginning to shred yourself of your clothes. He balks, wide eyed, but nevertheless scrambles excitedly off of the bed to get naked too, a large smile on his face.

“You wanna do it now? Like… right now?” Unable to keep the utter glee out of his voice. “No time like the present. Plus, it’s an intriguing idea.” There’s a quick second of silence before you playfully add, “Also, I kinda want to get eaten out right now.”

“That’s my girl.” He praises, his voice fond. Always, always fond.

Once you’re both as naked as the day you were born, he coaxes you over with a cheeky pat to his chest. “Come to papa.”

You snort. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you love it.” 

“I guess so.” You sigh in false exasperation, but there’s a small smile on your face as you turn your back towards him, settling your ass on his lower thighs. You throw a seductive look over your shoulder.

He doesn’t meet your gaze though, because his eyes are too busy taking in the sight of your naked ass, large, calloused hands dragging themselves over the fatty flesh. His tongue peeks out, swiping at his bottom lip.

“Like what you see?” You can’t help but ask. “You know I do.” His words are choked and he retracts a hand just to place a stinging slap against your skin. You flinch and yelp before shimmying higher.

“Naughty.” You chide, but nonetheless don’t stop moving until your pussy is over his mouth and you’re face-to-face with his half hard cock. 

“Always so big, Deany baby.” You coo, hand gripping his base and running a teasing tongue right up the side, trailing along the pulsing vein. 

Dean sucks in a breath from below you before attaching his lips right onto your clit, sucking on it with a vigor that sends you forward. You tighten your grip on him as you moan, stroking him up and down.

You don’t hesitate to take him into your mouth as you gather your bearings, swirling your tongue around the head to collect his precum, his semen a bit salty and bitter on your tastebuds, but nonetheless, you sink lower and lower, swallowing around him as you go.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Dean groans, the vibrations of the low timber of his voice shoots a shiver up your spine. You just hum, stroking what you can’t swallow. 

The pleasure that you’re giving him seems to give him a new kind of energy, because his own tongue plunges into your entrance, scooping out your wetness selfishly. You tremble from above him, eyes squeezing shut but you don’t stop.

Both of his hands spread your ass apart, his thumb teasing your asshole slightly just to send you jolting. You detach yourself from him, throwing a look over your shoulder to find that he looks all but pleased with himself.

“Dickhead.” You murmur, but reattach your lips to him, taking him down your throat again, going deeper and deeper until your eyes are watering and spits foams at the corner of your mouth.

Dean eats you out with abandon, eyes closed and stubble slightly burning the skin of your inner thighs. He’s dragging you down over his mouth, forcing you to ride his face as he alternates between suckling on your clit and actually eating you out.

His legs are shaking and you’re pretty sure you aren’t fairing much better, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head at the feeling of your orgasm nearing. 

You swallow around him repeatedly before pulling off gasping, stroking him faster, gripping him harder, determined to drag him over the edge with you.

A particular graze of his teeth gently catching on the hood of your clit nearly barrels you straight into nirvana.

“Cumming! Fuck, Dean – cum with – please…” You beg suckling at the head of his tip, coaxing out more precum – you’re all but sucking the soul out him, bless his heart.

His thumb drags over and over your over sensitive nub, and your hips thrash wildly over his face before stilling, your orgasm overtaking you. You take to suckling harshly at the vein running up his cock once more, and he finally cums with a shout. You hurry to cover him with your mouth, swallowing his load.

You rest your head on his thigh as you attempt to come down from your orgasm, chest heaving up and down.

“You okay?” You can’t help but rasp, your throat raw and spent.

“I think… you just took years from my life. From my dick.”

The way he says it so blankly causes you to laugh, shoulders rising and falling with the sound.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

[vamplvs]

the thought of john walker getting beaten into submission (willingly), being disciplined, and then being tenderly taken care of afterwards is what keeps me going tbh

ATTITUDE CHECK

INCLUDES -> john walker x fem!reader WARNINGS -> smut 18+, kinda brat!john, choking, 'ma'am' but only for like 1 second, praise kink, light begging, some denial/edging WORD COUNT -> 2.4k

NOTES -> and yeah! you get it! also i love writing mildly questionable and emotionally stunted john so here you go <3

imagine getting into a petty argument with john and all of a sudden you're backing him up into a corner, and something just switches in his brain. his back is against a wall and you're just so close to him—close enough to kiss him, close enough that one of your thighs is nearly pressed between his, close enough that you could wrap a hand around his neck and he'd collapse to his knees.

imagine him spending the next two weeks having a major internal crisis about it. he thinks about the way your hand pushed against his chest, knocking him back just enough that he's off balance. he thinks about the smug grin on your face when he finally shuts up. and god, he thinks about how much he wants you to do all that again.

only issue? he can't bring it up, not to you.

being the poor communicator he is, he does everything in his power to rile you up again. he makes snide remarks, pins you mercilessly during training, takes risks he knows will piss you off.

it isn't until nearly a month has gone by that he finally gets what he wants.

the two of you end up sparring after a mission—at bucky's request because, in his words, "walker needs to be taken down a peg, and you need to work your shit out."

john's fighting style is painfully military—precise, clean, and predictable. but yours? you have no problem fighting dirty, slinging insults at him, and taking cheap shots. and he lets you have it.

despite it all, he manages to get you pinned beneath him like it's nothing, and man, does that set you off in some type of way. you're practically buzzing beneath him, rage trapped like lightning in a bottle—dangerous and volatile and exactly the thing that has him grinning.

you growl for him to get off of you, flexing and bucking beneath him.

"you got it, come on," he mutters back, loosening his hold just enough for you to get out. you take the opportunity to reel back, slamming the back of your head into his. "what the fuck!"

he's off you in an instant, cradling his nose and stumbling away. pain blooms from his nose, so much so that he doesn't realize you're already up and behind him. while he's disoriented, you take a swing at him, and another. and so on until he finally starts blocking your blows in earnest. you've pushed him to the defensive, and he's buzzing from the adrenaline.

in one swift movement, you have him knocked onto the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. your legs are locked around his hips, with one of his hands trapped beneath him and the other twisted uncomfortably at his side by one of your hands. but it's your other hand on his neck that's causing him the most trouble, really. it presses in at the sides, cutting off his air flow just enough that it sends any logical thinking so far out the window he's not sure it'll ever come back.

it's not a hold he's trapped in, far from it. he's stronger than you are by leagues and getting out from under you should be no problem at all. yet he stays on the ground, staring up at you with wide eyes and parted lips.

there's a tension in the air, electric with some unspoken thing you've just realized about him. the way your eyes light up with a cruel kind of glee gives you away—and him, by extension.

"you like this, don't you?" and it's a damn good thing you're sitting still on top of him, otherwise you'd realize just how right you are. he pants below you, torn between denial and confirmation. you just watch as thoughts half form in his head only to be abandoned seconds later. "c'mon, walker, you like this. be honest, baby."

"sh-shit."

"is that why you've been such a bitch lately? want me to fix your attitude?"

john really can't be blamed for the low sound that rumbles from his throat when your hand tightens minutely around his neck. and you certainly don't hear him hurling accusations when your face moves inches from his own.

your thumb moves up from his neck, pressing against his jaw to turn his head. and he does so without any resistance. his eyes are locked on your face, taking everything in—the way your gaze wanders from his lips to his neck, the curl of your lip when you catch him staring, all of it.

he surges forward, kissing you, all teeth and bite. and you reciprocate readily. his hands are out of your hold with little effort—an abrupt reminder of just how strong he really is—and they wrap around your hips, just shy of too tight. his hips move against your ass slowly, tentatively, like he's trying to keep you from noticing. not that it works.

"walker," you mutter against his lips, but he only responds by pulling you in for another kiss, messy and desperate. "john," and this time your voice is more forceful, enough to make him pull back. his lips are spit-slick and parted, breath coming fast in little puffs. he looks at you like you've hung the sun in the sky. "we can't do this here."

he groans, head thudding back against the floor. "fine."

"what, you want me to fuck you stupid in the shared training space?"

john's silence speaks volumes—even more than the flush that's spread down to his neck. it makes you laugh, and that only makes him go redder.

"c'mon," you stand, putting a hand out to pull him up. john misses the contact of your body over his immediately, but he takes your hand anyways.

it takes everything in him to keep his hands off you as you drag him down the halls of the tower. he follows after you like a dog, still breathing hard and trying desperately to ignore the ache between his legs. but he thinks about pinning you to a wall, if only to get you pissed off at him again. he thinks about how you'd call him on it immediately, how you'd tell him to stop showing off, how it wouldn't phase you in the slightest. it's criminal how well you can read him, really.

before he can let that train of thought go any farther, you're shoving him into your room and back onto the bed. he lands with a grunt when the back of his knees hit the bed, and you find yourself between his legs.

"you sure know how to treat a guy," he says with a snarky smile, one that screams of self-satisfaction. you return his smile with a far more gentle one, fingers running through his hair. every touch is tender, and it leaves walker shaken, unsteady. "what, you pussy out or-?"

at that, you tug hard on his hair, forcing his head back to look up at you. it sends a sting through his scalp and heat through the rest of him. he shivers as you lean down, eyes wide with that same unspoken electricity.

"watch your mouth, john," you hiss, face mere inches from his own.

"yes, ma'am," he replies, trying to maintain that same egotism and sardonic tone, but it falls flat, even to his own ears. his voice is uneven, heady, already wrecked and you haven't even touched him.

"you look good like this," you mutter, more to yourself than john, but he reacts all the same. it's the quiet huff of breath, the way his hands drift from the sheets to your hips, the pink of his ears spreading to his cheeks. "you like that too, huh? like being told you're pretty, baby?"

that's how john finds himself laying back on your bed with you straddling his hips. he's still in his briefs, and fuck, he's never been harder in his life. you press open mouthed kisses to his neck, biting and sucking every time he dares even twitch. when he wakes up tomorrow, he's sure that there will be a myriad of purple-red marks decorating his skin. the thought alone has his hips bucking into you with a groan.

you lift yourself off him before he can get even an ounce of friction. "nuh-uh, not until i say so."

"f-fuck, c'mon," he growls, hands hovering just over your hips. he could flip you so easily, take you right now. it'd be so good, getting you to beg for him.

with a saccharine smile, you pull his hands away and pin them to the pillows by his head. "keep your hands here," your voice is too sweet, a thinly veiled threat. a command disguising itself as a request.

the arch of your brow breaks his resolve, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

"good," you mutter against his neck, nosing against his jaw once again.

by the time you're satisfied with the bruises littering his skin, john is shaky and oversensitive. every bite you leave has him arching into you, like there's a trail of fire you leave behind. he burns where you touch him—whether that's because of the flush that's spread down to his chest or the heat of your hands, he isn't sure.

maybe it's the way your ass is pressed against his cock, and the growing wet spot on the front of his briefs.

"let me fuck you already," he manages past another low groan.

"is that any way to ask for what you want?" you reply, grinding back onto him.

"o-oh, shit." his hands fly back to your hips, holding them still as his hips stutter against you almost mindlessly.

"john," your tone is a warning. in the back of his mind, he knows that. but he doesn't focus on your words until your fingers are wrapped around his neck, pressing just hard enough. "ask nicely."

you punctuate each word with a squeeze, leaving him feeling almost high from how bad he wants it.

"i'm not gonna beg," he huffs, voice strained by your hand.

"yes, you are." you say it with a smug smile, like you know something he doesn't. and then you lean in to whisper in his ear. "you like being told what to do. i know you get off on it. so come on, ask nicely."

and if you hear the way his breath hitches when you say it, you don't show any indication.

"you want to be good, don't you?"

the teasing tone of your voice is gone now, replaced instead with something lower, sharper. something that has his head going fuzzy.

"please," he says through gritted teeth.

"please, what?"

the room is suddenly too hot, or maybe he is. he can't tell anymore, not with your hand on his throat and the puffs of your breath on the shell of his ear. 

"please let me fuck you." he says it quietly, but it seems good enough for you.

"that wasn't so hard, was it?" your teasing tone is back, and it only makes him hotter.

before he can get another word in, you're reaching below the waistband of his briefs to wrap your hand around his cock.

john can't be blamed for the near-whine he lets out when you stroke him, or the way his back arches into the touch.

"yeah? that feel good?"

he just groans your name in response.

when you finally sink down on him, he swears his vision almost goes out. you're slow, steady, and he just shakes beneath you, hands still tight on your hips.

"shit, you're tight," he groans, eyes unfocused as he looks at you.

there's something about the part of your lips, the way your nails dig in just a little where you've used your hand to balance yourself against his stomach, and the twitch of your hand against his neck. whatever it is, it makes his hips jerk.

"go on, baby, fuck me," you say, moving your hand from his neck to his hair and pulling.

his hips snap up into yours again and again, until his mind is hazy with pleasure. he's unbelievably sensitive to everything you do. your nails raking down his chest leave him gasping and shuddering, and your hand tugging at his hair has him whining, hardly even able to focus his eyes on you at all.

"so good, feels so good." even your praise leaves him hot and tightly wound, a growing heat in his lower belly.

"y-yeah, fuck, please-" his voice breaks around a high moan of your name.

"gonna come, baby?"

he nods frantically, blond hair falling into his face and sticking to his forehead.

"not until i do," you say in that same heavy tone, and he nearly screams.

he shakes beneath you, holding off as best he can while you ride him. his entire body shudders every time you gasp and tighten around him, and fuck, he's close. he's so close he can practically taste it. but you keep going in a maddening rhythm without a care.

"doing so good for me." your eyes are locked on his when you near moan it, heavy with want. "'m close."

and that sends something through him, a wave of heat like lightning up his spine.

"f-fuck, want it-" he gasps, "g'nna make you feel good."

his voice cracks when you tighten around him, and this time he's sure his vision goes white. there's a small, frenzied moment where his entire body goes taut, on an edge he can't seem to get off of.

and then pleasure floods his body in a rush as his cock pulses inside you, a litany of praise falling from his lips.

"yes, yeah, 's so good, thank you-"

he barely feels you collapse on top of him, too focused on the oversensitivity of having to pull out of you.

it takes him a few moments to land back in his body, head practically spinning.

but when he does, your fingers are carding through his hair again. the touch is almost reverent.

"doing okay?" you ask, voice hardly above a whisper.

"yeah." christ, his voice is fucked. and maybe it's just the afterglow, but john's mouth is moving faster than his mind is. "needed that."

you laugh lightly next to him, but there isn't any heat behind it. not like there was before. "yeah, i figured." he wraps a careful arm around you—still shaking slightly. "you can just ask next time, y'know."

"huh?" next time? you want to do this again?

"you don't have to be a dick to get me to do all this." you pull up from where you're laying on his chest to look him in the eye. "i care about you. if this is what you need, then i'll do it."

then your hand his tightening in his hair all over again, and he hisses. "plus, it's hot."

he snorts, and you let go of his hair. "yeah, whatever." his face is far too red for the feigned indifference he tries to pull off.

[alexa-yukiyu]

Would you be up for writing an oneshot with abandoned baby Dokucha being found by the Cross Guild? Croco and Buggy would probably not care too much at the beginning but quickly warm up to them. Mihawk is the doting and responsible daddy. Croco would love to have the little one on his lap when “disciplining” people, especially Buggy, like “how should daddy Buggy be punished today for screwing up again?” before releasing the Bananawanis. Would totally give them a baby Bananawani, who greatly dislikes Buggy. Dokucha would copy Mihawks behaviour and way of being, Mihawk is sitting on the table having breakfast and reading the newspaper, so will they. Buggy is the one funny daddy and who gets them in trouble and doesn’t think much if it’s safe for Dokucha, like taking them to a heist or so. Imagine how darn cute this would be and the three taking care of them!! 😭🥰

Baby’s Judgement ( Crocodile x gn!child!reader! X Mihawk)

A/N Here we go!!! I always day that :/ always be saying im back but then I disappear for two weeks only to repeat🫣 Listen! Time just escaped me din’t even noticed it had been that long, plan was to do in the plane but I just kind a spent the hours staring into nothingness instead. Anyhow, not sure how to feel about this one so let me know what you think. But also do note that this Dokucha got raised by these mean since they were a baby so as such they share the same morally questionable morals the men have.

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stands for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics and @/drinkthesky

“Croki, where we goin’?” The small toddler wondered as they tried to keep up with the man’s long strides.

“I have something to show you,” he huffed out, pausing slightly so the child could catch up to him. 

“in the arium?”

“Aquarium,” he scoffed out.

“Arium?”

He let out a sigh, picking them up a 

“K,” he sounded, looking at the child.

“K!” 

“Kwe” 

“Kwe,” they parroted

“Aquarium” he finished.

“Arium!” They stated, seemingly proud of their ‘accomplishment.’ 

“You’re hopeless.”

“‘M’ not!”

“Perhaps I should just feed you to the bananawani,” Crocodile mused, a smirk growing on his face as he did

“No!” They cried, hugging his neck tight

“Yes, I’m sure they would enjoy eating a brat for dinner.” 

“Wah!! You’re mean!”

“Kuahaha! That’s how the world works, kid,” he laughed, making his way into the underground layer he had built to keep the giant beasts and any unfortunate soul that he and his associate decided to ‘spare’ from a swift death.

“Relax, those bastards wouldn’t do anything to you even if I told them to; they like you,” he called out once his chuckles had died down as he made his way into the shallow area of the aquarium, eventually giving rise to a section littered with sand and illuminated by a skylight place above the area.

The place allowed the huge reptiles to laze around on dry land if they so wanted to, the sand warmed by the sun above a welcome feeling to the crocodiles.

For the following months, however, this place was far from just a place for them to have their daily dose of vitamin D. Instead, it became a highly coveted place, one that the workers were not able to bypass for their usual duties as the bananawani became incredibly devoted to the care of their very own treasure that they were zealous to, thus the small layer although normally occupied by a few of Crocodile’s most trusted subordinates now lay close to empty.

However, the beasts were willing to make a few exceptions to their no-trespassing rule. The first one was the man himself, not only because Crocodile was the one who offered the crocs all the care they needed but also because the man had a new addition to himself as of late.

“Babies!” Dokucha exclaimed happily, running towards said hatchlings with glee.

It turns out that due to Crocodile establishing his dominance over the reptiles from the beginning, they had not only considered the man an extension of themselves but a superior of sorts. As such, the bananawani never reacted aggressively to his presence, this and the fact that Dokucha now lingered next to him, after all, he was in the same position as them: taking care of a young one.

“Croki, look! They have babies!”

“I know, it’s their mating season,” he mumbled as he placed one of his usual cigars in his mouth, looking as the child prattled on to one of the hatchling’s parents about the babies that littered the area.

“Croki” they called, gaining the attention of the man from the lighter on his hand back to the child as they let out a grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the task of igniting the cigar. 

“Look!”

Satisfied with the spark leaving the cigar and it’s signature cloud of smoke following, he moved his full attention to the toddler, watching as they hauled up a hatchling.

“They didn’t have a mommy or daddy.”

Crocodile let out a hum at their words.

“That one’s parents died a while ago, a sea beast if I remember right”

“Died?”

“Yes.”

“Who will take care of it?” they frowned, hugging them close, letting out tiny giggles as the Crocodile began giving them small nips.

“Just take it with you; I don’t really care,” he dismissed as he turned around, heading to the large table that decorated the center of the room.

Dokucha grinned looking down at the reptile in his hands with a grin.

“I take care of Baby!” they yelled, spinning the wani around with joy, skidding to a stop at the sound of muffled cries.

“Oi, Brat, come here” he called.

“I’m comin!” they cheered, running towards him with the Bananawani held snuggly in their arms as they climbed into the ex-warlords lap.

“You see that man?” he questioned as he gestured to one of the nearby cells.

“Man?” they mimicked, looking up towards the cell, spotting the source of the cries they had heard coming from a man in one of the otherwise empty cells, his cries muffled by a cloth tied around his head.

“Yes, see, the guy thought it would be a good idea to try and sell us out to the Marines,” he mumbled, a dark smirk growing on his face as he whispered the words to the child, ensuring that his voice remained loud enough for the terrified man to hear.

“What should I do with him?”

“Do with him?”

“Yes, should I feed him to the bananaWanis?” he suggested, his smirk widening at the rise in cries coming from the cells at the suggestion.

“No!” they protested with a pout looking up at Crocodile, much to the relief of the defected pirate.

“That would give the Wani’s a tummy ache!”

“Is that so? What should I do then?”

Dokucha shrugged, playing with the baby bananawani on their lap with a smile.

“Sand?”

The man’s relief previous relief at the thought of being spared dissipated into terror at the pirate’s following words

“Ah, that’s right. You said you wanted more sand for your sandbox, right?’”

“Mmhm”

“Well then, looks like your fates decided,” Crocodile cackled as he activated his devil-fruit

“Kai!”

“There you are; I was looking for you, “Mihawk called, watching them run into the room he sat on, gingerly placing the wine on a nearby table to accept the child jumping towards him.

“What were you doing?” he questioned, positioning them in this lap so he could balance both them and his glass of wine.

“Croki was turning a mean man into sand!” they piped up, raising what looked to be a small sippy cup in excitement.

“Ah. so he finally got rid of that pest,” he stated

“Yeah, and look!” they yelled, pulling out a small satchel from their side and grinning as the bananwani promptly jumped out as soon as they opened the satchel, letting out small chirps as they climbed into their lap.

“I have a baby!”

“Please do tell me why that is a good idea,” Mihawk called, looking over the child’s shoulders.

“I see no harm in them taking care of it; he can watch out for the brat, they can be nasty things even as hatchlings” Crocodile’s voice rings out as he enters the room, taking his place next to MIhawk.

“Besides, they seem to hate the clown as well, and he has been getting too comfortable around the brat lately,” he grunted.

The swordsman lets out a thoughtful hum at the word, seemingly mulling over the idea the devil user had given.

“I doubt a hatchling will be enough to stop that fool from trying to take them away; some lessons just need to be taught personally,” he called, taking a sip from his drink. He raised an eyebrow as the child next to them seemed to imitate his hand’s placement with their own cup.

He gave a small roll of his eyes as he put the wine down as he stood up, picking up the child who was quick to drop his cup in favor of grabbing the bananawani as they were lifted.

“Regardless, it is time for the child to go to bed, so I bid you farewell, for now; I trust I can leave the clown to you?” Mihawk called, looking at Crocodile

“I will,” he easily answered as he let a wisp of smoke escape him.

“If you want to join, you should hurry; I’m not sure he will be conscious if you take too long.”

“Very well,” he called as he walked away.

“But Kai! I’m not tired!” They whined, trying to get out of the man’s grasp

“Enough,” He sternly admonished

I don’t even know how to label the fic as cause it can’t be cross guild cause buggy is only mentioned but im not sure it really is equally crocodile and Mihawk, I think it’s more Crocodile centered 🤷🏽‍♀️ Also in case theres any confusion the Kai nickname comes from hawkeye, a two year old would hardly pronounce that so its the last vowels that sound the HawKEYE = Kai :D aint that cute?

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@77v77

[kabr0ztrousers]

Can you do a story with Oreg and the reader :>

You're skipping the line, because I'm behind schedule today and the ones ahead of you need setup.

You're welcome

Kabr0z Writes Episode 47: One year later

This episode picks up from Episode 42!

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Not many today! Creampie; size difference; interspecies relations; fucking on a table; squirting;

A/N: I got into BattleTech today, which is absolutely one of those "Dear God, is that daylight?" Games, so it's 23:30 now.

Hopefully this doesn't keep me up all night again 🤣

Also, send in your requests already, you know you want to

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A year ago, you were sold to an orc warrior. It just so happened, that orc warrior was a duke who also runs a soup kitchen. You'd probably have wound up with him anyway if your adoptive father had let you get to know each other first. Things didn't really end up that way, and you were sold for thirty gold pieces and railed in childhood living room to seal the deal.

You weren't sure he really understood the idea behind an anniversary, he woke up at the crack of dawn as usual, trained until breakfast with you and your son together, then left to do whatever good works he took it upon himself to do. You like it, sure, he's certainly well-loved in the city but it is a little unbecoming for a marcher lord to be seen rethatching a roof.

You spent the day making preparations, arranging flowers you picked from the garden, setting up your child at a playdate so he wouldn't disturb you, you'd even bought him a gift, though he was a bit of an ascetic so it was only a new tunic and some hobnailed boots. Something he'd actually use.

He came home in the early evening, clomping into the house. You could hear him going towards the chapel where he'd normally stay for a while in quiet reflection before dinner.

Oreg had been a paladin since he was very young, abandoned by his warband and adopted by an elven conclave. He was younger than you when he ventured into the Shadowlands to kill the lich, and always carried his faith with him. You sat with your husband, gazing silently at the icons on the small altar, dedicated to the god of fertility and rebirth. Your hand brushed his, grasping a couple of his huge fingers in your own hand. He looked away from the altar, smiling at you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Dinner time?" He put an arm around you, placing his hand on your waist as he held you to him

"I was thinking of something else first, it's been a year since we met, you know?"

His greenish-grey skin went even greyer "Oh, I haven't got you anything!"

You laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek "I noticed, you'll make it up to me later, for now, let's go to the dining room"

You led him by the hand, a five-foot-nothing woman leading an eight-foot orc through your house to the grand dining room that only ever seemed to get use when you had company, or your child wanted to play there. On the table were the presents you'd bought, and the bouquet you'd made.

Your husband's eyes lit up. "For me?"

"Yes, dear, for you. Go ahead and open them"

You'd never seen such childlike glee from this man, normally lodged somewhere between practical and stoic, now filled with anticipation as he turned the first gift over in his hands before tearing off the paper and holding his new clothes to his chest. He was even more impressed with the boots, remarking on the sturdy soles as he tried them on. You couldn't help but beam at him as he stomped up and down the length of the room, clearly loving the clack-clack-clack of the nails on the smooth granite floor

You finally managed to convince to stop stomping, holding this giant man who suddenly has the boundless energy of a teen half his age. You pushed him onto one of the chairs arrayed on either side of the great table, climbing on top of him

You whispered in his ear "Now, you get to give me my gift" before hiking up your skirt, revealing your pussy to him.

He got the idea. Bundling you up, he lay you on the table, kicking the chair away and kneeling to dive face-first into you.

His hands gently gripped your thighs, squeezing the plump flesh as his tongue gently explored you. He started slow, barely touching as he licked the outer lips up and down. Speeding up, he started to tease the inner lips and your hole, running his tongue vertically, slightly catching your clit every now and then to send electric tingles through you. You could feel how wet this was making you. Hell, you could hear how wet it was making you! He still wasn't stopping, rubbing your hole with a thumb as he moved his attention upward, his tongue rolling around your clit as you whimpered and whined on the table.

When his finger started pushing into you, it was too much. You cried out as the tip slid in, feeling yourself clenching as your hands gripped the back of his head through your skirts. Oreg wasn't done yet, though, that finger pressed on, getting deeper inside before he curled it upwards, pushing hard against your g-spot, making you gasp as your knuckles whitened on your clothes. He moved with a practiced purpose, listening to the crechendo of gasping cries you made as you approached your next peak. At last, you came again, squirting straight into his mouth as waves of pleasure flowed over you. Ever since he figured out how to do it, it's been his favourite thing to do with you, you weren't sure if he enjoyed getting off as much as making you squirt for him.

He definitely enjoyed getting off though, and as he stood up, you felt the imposing thickness of his cock against you. You'd gotten more used to it over the months, but it was still challenging at first. He held the absurdly sized cock against you, rubbing it up and down your slit, slathering it with your juices before angling it into you. A moment passed, you could feel it pushing into you. Your body relented, and the tip stretched its way inside. Your breathing once again turned to gasping and your toes curled as he slid in, being careful not to go too quickly even as you could see he desperately needed your body.

"Do it, give it to me like you want" you breathed your enthusiasm to him. He looked at you a moment. You met his gaze.

He thrusted. You screamed. Wide-eyed, he looked down at you, even as you held him in "Deeper, Oreg, please, deeper"

He pulled out an inch or two, then forced himself deeper into you, letting his bodyweight force his cock inside. You bucked and rolled your hips, fucking him back as he pressed in. He picked up speed, your moans emboldening him

"Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me" you repeated your mantra over and over again as the orc took you. The table rocked and creaked with the force of his thrusts, again and again until at last, he did as you asked.

His hips hit yours and he let out a groaning sigh, cock twitching, filling you up as he dropped his load into you. You stroked his face and pulled him to you. You kissed. Your tongue was in his mouth now, he gently caressed it with his own as his balls pumped more and more of his essence into you, already leaking out and pooling below you.

You held him to you, closing your eyes, not letting him go. This is the only present you wanted from him.

Though a sword would be awesome.

########################################

Hope you enjoyed that, it's super duper late now so I'm just going to remind you all that requests are open and you're welcome to leave one!

[sugoi-writes]

Can I get some fluff of Alastor finding reader listening to old jazz songs from when he was alive and he makes us dance with him? :)

It's Been a While... (Alastor x GN! Reader)

Ahaha, I need more work on fluff, I hope you like it! There is SOME mentions of risque activites, but it's super brief, and nothing insanely explicit! Promise! I was honestly just writing to write, and figured this little blurb that fell out of me would be fitting enough. UNO REVERSE... We get ALASTOR to dance! Fuck yes!!!

Songs mentioned: In The Mood - Glenn Miller / Sing, Sing, Sing - Benny Goodman (both are bops I used to play when I was in jazz band houhosjknskhdj-- SURPRISE, you also get Danny Lore as a treato!)

Alastor's tense, heavy sigh sounds in the air, prompting you to crane your head up. You took in his disheveled state and instantly knew: he was exhausted. You stood from your plush armchair, abandoning it to walk toward his desk. 

"Alastor?" was all that was needed for his flattened ears to perk up. Your sweet voice was a much needed comfort during a particularly grueling evening. 

"Yes, dearest?" he replied, his smile hardly an upturned slit. You come up behind him slowly, waiting for his permission to touch. Alastor looks back to your hovering hands, and nods gingerly. He returns to facing his desk, allowing his eyes to lose focus as he zones out. When your arms wrap around his neck, his shoulders slump heavily, a pleased hum vibrating his chest. You smiled sweetly at the sound, a welcome pleasantry as you kissed his cheek. 

"You're getting frustrated again, my love..." you pipe up, continuing to pepper his cheek with chaste, innocent kisses. Your lover laughs bitterly, but leans into your musings all the same. 

"Well, I suppose you're right... leave it to my sweet, observant partner to know what's wrong... and when," he adds, a tired hand reaching up to rub slow circles into one of your arms. You grin against his cheek, your kisses slowing," I may also have a solution to your problem, if you'll hear me out~" 

Alastor hums in approval, grasping both of your hands when you continue to pamper him with sweet, physical adoration. 

"Dear, you are nothing if not full of brilliant ideas... I would love to hear them out," he muses, turning his head to plant a singular, sincere kiss to your lips. You were giddy at the affection, but capped your glee.  You tugged on his hands, eager to make your little plan work.

"Come on, come on... you'll have to get up for this one," you quip, forcing a dramatic sigh from your partner. Alastor throws his head back, laying it on your shoulder like an ill peasant woman. He would fan his face weakly, had your hands not been so warm.  

"My love, I have been stricken, and cannot get up~ Won't you let an old man rest?" he fired back. But truly, had you asked: he would happily jump into acid rain with nothing more than his dignity.

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, smirking," You? Old? I wouldn't figure... No, you old geezer, I need you to stand so we can use your legs. They're very important for what I want to do." Alastor blinked, gears turning in his mind. Only with you would his mind wander to dirtier, carnal ideas. 

"Dear, if I had wanted to do that tonight, I'm afraid your back would've already been bent out of shape--" 

"Oh for Fucks Sake, Alastor--" you cackled, tugging on him with more insistence. 

" Come oooonnnnn, please~? It's one of your favorites, I promise! Nothing dirty, no tricks!" Alastor's interest is instantly piqued, resulting in an immediate hop up. Even with his motion, his hands were still in yours. You huff, exacerbated but grateful you didn’t have to lift him yourself. 

"Ahh, if you would have led with that, I may've been more urgent to attend to you, dear," Alastor chuckles, not missing the flush that flashed across your cheeks. You pull away from Alastor long enough to turn on the radio, flicking through several frequencies and stations to find just the right channel. Alastor watches you in amusement, arms crossing in front of his chest. He was more than content to watch you struggle, shifting his weight onto one foot.

"Well, I have to keep some of the suspense, don't I?" you replied, grinning at him in a way that made Alastor's black heart beat wildly. He did quite enjoy your mischievous nature... But your attempts to work his radio almost had him pitying you... Almost. 

He scooted in behind you, resting his crossed arms over the top of your head," You could request a song, you know... I don't mind putting on something you enjoy--" 

"I'd rather it be something we’d both enjoy," you interject, huffing as you became an armrest for your demonic partner. Once you found the right channel, you swiveled under Alastor's arms to face him. Then, you reach up to hold his elbows, shaking them around playfully. 

"Alright, sir... It's been a long, long time since we've done this... I want to do this properly." 

Alastor relents, allowing you to push his arms off of your head. He tilts his own toward you, expressing confusion. In that moment, he finally hones in on the song itself. In The Mood, popularized and recorded by Glenn Miller. It was one of the few songs that came to mind when you thought of "Alastor's Time" in the 30s. Said demon blinks in surprise, grinning. He had listened to this recording a bit after coming to hell, and was particularly fond of it. Ahh, you had picked the perfect station! 

"Glenn Miller? Oh, you spoil me, love," Alastor coos, caressing your face as he kisses your forehead," Whatever did I do to deserve this?" 

You sway your hips, bouncing in place to the tempo with the old tune," I know the recording's after your time... but-- He's just-- GOOD, y'know?" You bite your lip as you pull Alastor's hands off of your face," Now come on, Al... let's dance!" What a perfect distraction to break his tension and troubled mind! Alastor just knew he would enjoy your little idea... 

His hands settle on you, both lightly caging your hips as yours held onto his wide shoulders. As the main motif began, the both of you started bopping along to the music. You watched Alastor's face morph fully into a relaxed state; smile still present, but much softer than his manic glee. You had to use every fiber in your being not to kiss him in that instant, instead squeezing his shoulders. Alastor's ears twitch as you draw soothing circles into his tense muscles, a shudder being torn from his entire frame. 

"Relax, Alastor... I want you to forget about everything, except for this...," you coo, making him sigh with acceptance. He came close to you, flushing your bodies together in a tight, intimate sway. You could only sigh as he settled his chin onto the top of your head. 

"Oh darling, if I relaxed anymore, I would be putty in your hands...," Alastor chimes, the tail end of his sentence wandering off as you press harder. Alastor huffs pleasantly, his hands holding your hips more firmly," Sweetheart, you really will be my undoing..." 

You chuckle as you settle your hands, allowing Alastor a moment of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders, one hand seeking to grasp your opposite hand. Once he drew your arm out with his, his other hand shifted to the small of your back. You saw him grinning, playful and energetic," If it's a dance you want, then it had better be a good one, hmm? So let's jive~" 

You squealed as Alastor practically whisked you off of your feet, spinning the both of you elegantly around his bedroom. The sounds of cicadas and frogs croaking in the distant, swampy marsh of his extended bedroom accompanied the sweet jazz that filled the air. Truly, it was tying everything together seamlessly. You had it all: a nice scene, nice music, and a relaxed, precious beau to spend all night with. You would have patted yourself on the back, were it not for Alastor's telltale sign of a 'big dip' move. You looped both arms around his neck, hanging on as Alastor swung you down, his monocle threatening to slip off his face. You laughed as you casually adjusted it. You stared, enthralled as you lay your hand over his racing pulse. However, the moment didn’t last long before you were brought back to your feet. But you thought now would be the best time to be a bit closer…

Getting bolder now, you pulled Alastor in for a kiss via his bowtie, eager to finish the dance off strong. Alastor, of course, had no protests, as he looped his arms around your waist. The two of you embraced like this for what felt like an hour, unable to pull apart your mingling, eager lips. But, with the song ended, leaving you both in silence, you managed to pull away. You looked up to Alastor with knowing eyes, your smile reflected in his deep, red irises.

"I loved that, Alastor, thank you... And I hope you don't mind me whisking you away from work..." 

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes, an imitation of your look from earlier. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, his lips still puffy from your kiss," My love, you must whisk me away more often... In fact, I think I'd like another dance, if you'll join me?" Of course, you agreed silently, stepping on to the very tips of your toes to seal it with a kiss. 

"I'd love nothing more." 

Alastor grins with a deep chuckle, the radio pumping out a new song. Sing, Sing, Sing, popularized by Benny Goodman. You blink in surprise as this number moves... MUCH faster. And, from the sound of it, it will get you to sweat. You laughed nervously as Alastor brought you in again, his hand directing your hips to sway with his. You couldn’t help but become a little flustered as he closed the gap between your bodies, a playful, coy smile sent your way. 

"Hold on tight, love. Some recordings of this song could last up to ten minutes~" 

"WHAT--" 

Alastor practically cackled as you trapped yourself within a saucy dance, one of many that would fill your evening with sweat, laughter, and best of all: an Alastor whose smile finally reached his eyes. 

[sungiescheotluv]

am i the asshole? ⭑.ᐟ lee jeno

pairing: lee jeno x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, meet not-so-cute turned cute, (excessive) swearing, crack (if you squint - or read any of my fics really 😭)

summary: things are looking up for you - a promotion at work propels you into a new, more extravagant apartment that has all you need and more. too bad you forget to look down.

notes: hi hi, i'm back with a new fic! it's been really fun to crank out all these fics in such a short amount of time :) i usually spend a stupid amount of hours mulling over word choice and reading too much into things, which i've tried to abandon with this blog and just write whatever inspires me and makes me laugh honestly. i'm not sure if this is funny for you guys, but i enjoyed the care-free time i had writing this and hope you enjoy it the same reading it! wishing you all the best and thank you, THANK YOU for all the love on my fics! it means so so much to me 🥹💗

also, this fic wouldn't exist this prompt list from @corvase so big big thank you to them! much love! <3

If there is one word to describe Jeno, it’s doting. 

Ever since the moment you two met, you’ve been living a life of luxury. Not necessarily in terms of monetary means (except for the very pretty promise ring Jeno got you a few months back), but in more valuable, sentimental places. Someone by your side that treasures the ground you walk on, someone that makes the effort whoever big or small, someone who’s totally and utterly obsessed with you. For so long, you thought you had your head in the clouds, imagining such a love as an abstract, fictional thing. Like it could never materialise beyond the limits of your mind and yet, there it is. Three years ago, the love you’d wished for on many stars, many birthday candles - right in front of you. 

You meet in a rather…unconventional way. Nothing shady or anything, but it’s a bit of a blunder in comparison with the wholesomeness of your relationship. You’d just moved into your new apartment building, your new promotion uplifting you as the future brims bright. You’d seen it in person before getting the keys and your jaw dropped every time. Admittedly, the office assisted with most of the expenses to keep you in close vicinity of the main building, explaining the lavish skyscraper of a building. Marble floors, polished elevators, key-pad locks. To you, someone who didn’t come from much, this was the high life. A merit your family let you know you deserved for all your efforts over the years, whether it was in academic ventures or familial affairs. Either way, as you are driving through the front gate, the security guard tipping his hat at you, you’re beaming with glee - nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, could ruin your day. 

Except this.

For someone so accommodating, you lacked understanding (and patience) for what you, in a flare of anger, called ‘stupidity.’ Unfortunately for you, this is one of those moments. Pulling up to your assigned parking space (underground, might you add), your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you. There’s a car in front of you making an awkward turn, almost as if they don’t know where they’re going. Maybe they’re new like you, you reason. Your understanding drains from there, as the car goes back and forth, turning its wheels and frankly, looking like a hot mess. You try not to be an asshole, because drivers deserve some grace, especially Learners judging by the large ‘L’ on the back of their car, but just as you’re about to offer some help, you squeal.

The learner attempts to manoeuvre out the tight space it’s wedged itself into, having to reverse generously due to the sheer size of the car and in doing so, it nearly rear-ends you. If you hadn’t had the sense to put more distance between the two of you, the front of your car would’ve been mangled. This time, you honk, a slam of the hand on the steering wheel as you yell, “The fuck are you doing!”

The driver offers an apologetic hand out their window, somehow managing to squeeze into the parking spot they’d been trying very hard to get into. As grateful as you are for the stupid ordeal to be over, a pout forms on your lips as you squint at the parking spot the driver’s parked into. 

Your parking spot.

You’re out of your car before your brain registers, the slam of the car door accompanying the echo of your loud voice as you say, “That’s my parking space.” 

The driver hoops out of their car, a large grey hoodie shrouding their face as they step into view. Under the fluorescent lights of the barren car park, the stranger reveals their face, shadows enveloping the sharp edges of his high cheekbones and jawline. You nearly lurch back, because what the hell? Why is the driver you’d nearly had an aneurysm over unbelievably hot? Handsome? Cute?

At this point, you’d throw a whole dictionary full of words to describe how attractive he is, his pink lips folding into an apologetic grin, bowing to you deeply. “Is your car ok? I’m so sorry. It’s my first time driving this big ole thing - it’s the only car I could fit all my belongings in.”

Then, you see it. Items, belongings cluttering the pick-up truck, and if you really look, you’re pretty sure a pillow’s obstructing his sight from his rearview mirror. 

You exhale, a wave of sympathy drowning the fires of your annoyance. “It's fine, thanks. Just a word of advice, you shouldn’t be driving with something blocking your rearview mirror.”

Why did you have to tell him this? If he's a learner, surely he 1) knew this and 2) had someone in the car with him.

Just then, the passenger front seat opens, another figure in an oversized black hoodie coming round the vehicle. Were they-?

“Jeno, you forgot your dog treats in the-” the passenger cuts themselves off at your presence, lowering their hood to reveal another handsome face. What is this? A traveling circus of hotties? How many more were hidden in there? “Oh, hottie alert.”

Instantly no. 

In the face of a man also sculpted by the Gods, with his big brown eyes and irresistible smile, you scowl. Maybe even vomit a little in your mouth because did he just say ‘hottie alert’ about you…in front of you? 

Nevermind you calling him that first.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” the stranger - Jeno, you’re assuming - looks even more embarrassed, shuffling to shield the glaring ogling his friend does. “He’s got no filter. No sense either, now that I think about it.”

���Since when did the samoyed become the owner?” you make out his friend say, in a headlock that he forces himself out of with a bite through Jeno’s sleeve. 

Samoyed? Owner?

The longer you watch their bickering, the more confused and honestly, more annoyed you grow. A promotion and new apartment, what is meant to be an upgrade from your previously cramped but friendly neighbourhood, only to find yourself caught in the middle of a quarrel. With some themes of petplay, too, you weren’t sure.

All you know is that you’ve got a long day ahead of you, and they’re prolonging it by snatching your parking space. 

“Sorry to interrupt but,” their heads turn at the sound of your voice, having the decency to look embarrassed as you continue. “You’re parked in my space. I’m D7. So, in case there’s been a mix-up-”

“Thing is, sweetie,” Jeno’s friend addresses you, the latter hanging his head in shame. “Unfortunately, someone’s parked in our sweet Jeno’s place. We’re on a bit of a tight schedule, and your space was the only one avail-”

A car honk makes you jump, your head on a swivel, mortified to find a car behind yours, luckily trying to exit the underground space.

Now you look like the asshole.

You huff, exhausted already. “I’m gonna let this car through, and we’re going to solve this, alright?” 

They both nod, the enthusiasm that Jeno nods with earning a fond smile from his friend, Jeno’s sleazy partner ruffling his head of long black hair.

In the end, when you’ve circled back, the person parked in Jeno’s space comes out and profusely apologizes for the inconvenience, citing an emergency they had to take care of and since Jeno’s space was free and close to the building, they snagged it. So, you get your parking space back, a small victory. Jeno’s friend, who notices you’re moving in too - Jaemin is his name - offers his help, to which you politely deny, catching the pure apologetic nature in Jeno’s shiny eyes. 

Minor blunder. A small thing in the grand scheme of things, nothing worth losing your mind over.

Except when you’ve managed to heave your first few belongings to your apartment, the door next to yours opens, Jaemin’s bright smile greeting you as he says, “Oh, I’m definitely coming over to yours more often.”

So, yeah. Not that romantic - your first meeting.

Heck, even your second and third meeting isn’t too great because on one exceptional morning where you’re running late, you collide into Jeno on your way out, your possessions and fingernail flying in the air. You’re lucky your nail-bed remains unscathed, but not so lucky the days following that when you’re walking in the open courtyard of your apartment building, out for some fresh air, time to decompress for the mounting work you’re quickly submerging in.

You’ve got your headphones on, noise-cancelling ones you got for Christmas - how nice. What isn’t nice is that you miss the yell behind you, and the strange texture you step onto. Your body freezes, nose twitching from a foul smell that wafts upwards and when you gaze down to your shoe, you find the worst. The absolute worst.

Shit. Huge, putrid clumps of shit.

It’s so shocking that you slip your headphone off down to your neck, deciding between screaming or crying. Your decision is cut off by a familiar voice, yet again so apologetic.

“I forgot her bags upstairs. I didn’t think anyone would…” Jeno cuts himself off, eyebrows pinched together like he may cry. “Can I-can I do anything for you? Wash your shoe? Scream? Disappear into oblivion?”

“All of the above.”

He chuckles, the furry friend he’s accompanied by nudging their wet snout against your hand, smiling at you like there are no thoughts behind their eyes. Your eyes flicker between the dog and Jeno, the white samoyed eerily similar to his owner.

Was this what Jaemin was referring to when you first met?

“Don’t worry about her, she’s harmless,” he comments, the ghost of a grin appearing against his face. “Except when she takes a dump.”

You have to laugh. Otherwise you’ll cry. “Too soon?”

“No, no - I needed that actually,” you sigh after your fit of chuckles. “Today’s been…well, shit.”

“You don’t say,” Jeno muses, handing over the leash his dog is on. “Do you mind?”

You take it without a word, securing his furry friend as he slips off one of his shoes, bending down near the scene of the crime. Without a peep, he cleans around as best as he can, undoing your shoe and casting it aside, slipping his one on your foot.

“Well, I can’t scream because it’s non social hours,” he leads, wrapping your shoe in one of the bags. “And as much as I’d love to disappear into oblivion, I’ve got a shoe to wash.”

He then hesitates, parts his lips like he wants to say something. There’s something adorable about his loss for words, how his gaze is downturned, flicking side to side in indecision. God, all these awful run-ins robbed you of remembering how cute he is. 

“Did you want to come back to mine?” he finally asks, meeting your eyes. “So, we don’t have to drop each other’s shoes off like some fairytale.” 

“It is almost midnight,” your quick wit earns a chuckle from him, eyes moon crescent and you can’t believe your own. How tragically pitiful and handsome he is. “Why not? I’ve got no ball to be at.”

So, instead of spending your night wallowing in the darkness of your apartment, you’re next door, laughing at the failed attempts of Jaemin’s ‘flirting’ Jeno tells you with his samoyed, Ari, cuddled into your side. Once your shoe dries, that’s when you say you’ll leave - what you infamously tell yourself, picking up the bone-dry shoe hours later, belly full of Jeno’s special bowl of noodles and heart full of infatuation for your neighbour. 

Again, not so romantic. But your following run-ins prove to be a turning point, the close relationship you develop unveiling a world of romance you thought were reserved only for movies and books. Somewhere along the line, your elevator talks stretch into rambling dinner dates, rotating between your place and his depending on the meal since Ari once stole a whole steak off your plate once. You take Ari on your nightly walks Jeno accompanies you for, you meet his friends and he meets yours. You make space for each other, carving out time to spend binging the latest season of your favourite dating show or over a bowl of kimchi stew you reward him with for getting the spider out your apartment. 

It’s like your puzzle pieces come together, initially ill-matched but now, the perfect fit for one another. And even if Jaemin jokes you were a bit ‘rough around the edges’ (code for an asshole) when you’d first met, Jeno kisses the denial out of you, making sure you know how much better his (and Ari’s) life is with you in it. 

[rsventhesecondd]

midnight rant,

╰ • → Featuring . Hayato Suo as your boyfriend ! ╯

sypnosis . whereas— you're an overthinker, desperately trying to save your friend group that is falling apart. You find no way to cope, but luckily your boyfriend, Suo is here for you. :3 , Hayato Suo x f!reader 

warnings . light cursing, mentions of mental health issues, abandonment issues, angst, self-vent, skin picking , fluff

note ⧽some parts may seem rushed or ooc in other peoples opinion. english isn't my first language, so please bare with oncoming vocabulary or grammatic mistakes. Based off real life experiences

authors note . hi! this is for all those people that overthink a lot specially when it comes to relationships. I didn't really explain more, it has so much lore potential too.. It's not really more of a you getting comforted once you read it, but rather it's a you being in the same situation again, but not being alone. I really wanted to write Suo, but I didn't know how. Anyways, this might be a subtle vent, foreshadow :3

—

You sat down the bench just a few steps far from Furin Highschool, your eyes welling up– unable to hold tears. You should've been home, if not for that argument you had with your  bestfriend. 

It was your mistake, it was your issue, you're the problem. Was what kept on replying all over your head like Broken record. What was is the cause of this scenario? let us go back. 

You lashed out, unable to control your feelings any longer. What was once joyful and full of glee, was now full of trepidation and gloom. Your two  close friends, somehow, two of your only close friends that you consider as close ones are starting to drift apart. You couldn't really blame them. You rarely meet, nor called. Rarely chatted, hell– whens the last time you guys ever talked about your own lives? They were all too busy with their places to be, and you were too. Not that you  didn't have any other people to interact with. But somehow, some part of you is missing the times where you three were happy, talking about this– your new crushes, how your lives has been going, laughing over stupid things, ranting about this and that about how annoying they were knowing damn well you were annoying too. But you couldn't care less, because at that time, you felt safe. It was as if a safe zone, your safe zone. But then things started to fall apart, barely chatting, updating, and the other more— you tried. You tried to replicate the same energy you've had before, you tried to bring back the joyous and gleefulness of memories that you've remember. Now realizing that it has only turned into a mysterious enigma written in the ink of stardust on the back of your brain. You were hysterical. How could such strong bond just fade away ever so quickly? The promises and plans made, are now starting to fade. 

Those tears welling up in your eyes not holding up any longer, flowing as they stream down your cheeks. You wipe them away with your sleeves, hoping the flow water from your eyes stop as you let out a sniffle. 

"[name]?" a familiar voice questions, causing you to instinctively turn your head away from where the noise came from. You begged to the gods that this was just a dream, hoping you were hallucinating. You were in such  disgraceful state, you don't need another problem to participate.  There you were on the bench, closing your eyes shut as you continuously picked on your skin, hoping that the man of that voice disappears into thin air. 

"[name], dear.. what happened?" the same voice from before said, inching closer. You open your eyes to see Suo with a worried expression. You quickly wipe your tears once more, using your tear stained sleeve, trying to utter out words, but it seems as if you couldn't speak. "Shh.. It's okay, my love." Suo says, sitting down beside you, resting your head on his shoulder. "You know, your skin will be irritated if you wipe your tears like that" he says in a gentle, but slight tease of a tone. He faces you, cupping your chin as he wipes your tears away with a handkerchief. As much as you wanted to push, maybe– shove him away even, you found yourself calming down from his actions. You wanted to go away as far as you could, you wanted to bury yourself deep underground. You've never shown him this side of you, and it terrified you. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?" he says with a smile, it's as if it wasn't even a question, rather a clarification. You take a deep breath and sighed, "It's just, my friend has been seeing this person lately, well, used to. And they've been ranting about how this person they're seeing is 'cheating' , only going to them when they need something, and other more stuff. It just pissed me off. My friend deserves more than that, and it got to me. I attacked their ex in spite, saying shit I didn't even know I would. And.. I know it's my fault, I wasn't in the right place to do that. And I apologized, I felt bad, I swear, I really did." you say, unbeknownst to you that tears are flowing down your eyes, fingers picking on your skin. Suo, nodding silently, his hand creeping up to yours, holding them– as a way to prevent you from picking on your skin. "But, I'm.. scared. I know we all make mistakes, and I know my friend is a good person and that they do forgive me. But I'm scared. I'm scared that it'll fall apart, I'm scared that they'll leave me– I'm scared that I caused a problem, that I break something again" you say, breath hitching as you tighten your grip on his hand.  "I contacted my other friend Kotoha, who I was closer with. We three were really close, and I know them a lot. Even though they don't realize it, I always observe how they react to different stuff. And, Kotoha was friends with the person I fought.  I reached out to them, after the argument, and apologizing to my other friend because of the situation I've created, and after awhile Kotoha never replied even though they were online. And, I can't judge them, they might've not seen it, and they've been there for me a lot too. But I just can't help but overthink at the most little things, and I hate it. I hate it so much, I–"  you stammer, cut off by a light kiss on the lips. "I understand." Suo says, wrapping his arm around your back, his hand pushed you ever so slightly to his chest– pulling you into a hug. "You can't really force someone into a relationship, [name]. Platonic or not, if the relationship is not working and there is no solution, best leave things be" , he says, patting your head. "If the friendship wasn't it, then it's all part of the plan of fate. Mistakes are normal, [name]. And if they truly are friends, people you consider you can trust the most then.. , they will accept you for who you are. Your flaws, mistakes, but that doesn't mean they'll tolerate it. If the gods have decided that friendship truly is not meant for you three, then let it be and accept things for what they already are. Yes, it'll be hard, but I'll be here with you. I'll accept you for who you are, flaws, and secrets kept. I'll be with you when you need me, and when you're alone. I'll accept you with my all of my heart. Just like you did with me" he added, moving his hand to pat your back soothingly. This time, you weren't crying from sadness, or terror. You were crying tears of glee. 

"Let's buy ice cream? My treat of course." Suo says, standing up– reaching his hand out to you, the other behind his back as usual. "Really?" you exclaim, eyes brightening up as you let out a sniffle, him nodding in response.  "And let's put some cream on your hands after wards, get you fixed up" he added.

"Okay! I love you!" You said in your same bubbly mood, almost forgetting the events of today. 

"I love you too, my dove" he says in a soft tone, giving you a look of love. 

note . this had so much lore potential. I'm gonna rewrite this whole, trust.

[t0rturedangel]

╭ . . . 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 ੭

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ; ♰ ৎ﹕𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴

Okay, before I start- i know that hazbin hotel has a lot of good ass songs, and I want to make own little custom songs but I cant write songs for shit however I can write poetry (not well but I'm trying) so instead of writing songs for you, I'll write shitty poetry that does not rhyme. Also sorry if my depictions of love aren't good- i have literally never been in love before, and if the ending is rushed, I'm not used to writing so much in one setting

➷ ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ＳＣＥＮＥ | ＮＥＸＴ ＳＣＥＮＥ

There once was an Cherubim angel,

so gentle and kind,

perched upon a cloud

You sat on a cloud, smiling to yourself as you watched over all the different angels talk to each other about their duties- heaven was perfect, no- no not just perfect, heaven was a utopia. No angel can do any wrong, it is only virtue that existed upon these clouds and you were among these creatures of purity, you were one of god's creations just as all the other's were.

The clouds around you were soft, almost as if they were made of the soft silk your robes were made of, they were formed to bring comfort to any angel that came in contact with them and while all angels were already joyful, the clouds merely helped them stary from sinful thoughts.

She waited for another angel,

a Seraphim named Lucifer,

a friend, so close to her

You wondered though, were was lucifer? He was always about yet you didn't have any idea on where or how to find him. In all honesty, you found Lucifer to be amazing- his ideas, imagination, creativity bought stars to your eyes (figuratively, you had no iris or pupil- your eyes, more specifically your sclera, were a soft yellow colour with white swirls decorating them), to you his words were so brilliant, other angels couldn't even begin to speak or think the way he does.

He always came up with new ideas, new creations him, you and the other angels can create- can look after and love. You couldn't help but indulge in his chats with you- adding onto his ideas in anyway you can and while you personally thought your ideas weren't as amazing as his, to Lucifer your ideas were flawless- he always said that.

Lucifer was brilliant, he truly was- you could never understand why the other angels despised his thoughts so much.

Perhaps, the cherubim was in love,

perhaps she enjoyed Lucifer's company

much more beyond just meer friendship.

Okay, you needed to slow down- you were always thinking how great he was, maybe you didn't just like him as a friend... just maybe you liked him a bit more. Though, that way of thinking should stop soon- after all you have angelic duties to do! there is no way you can just abandon them just because you adored Lucifer....'s ideas.

You took a breath and got on your feet, spreading your wings (you had four wings, two on each side) so you could take off and start your work, however when you were jus about to begin to fly a figure rushed to you- wrapping their arms around your torso.

The seraphim appeared,

all smiles and glee

he held his friend closely

with tender, with care

Lucifer came out of no where, though his presence was welcomed warmly by you : who held him back just as tight. " Luci! " you grinned letting go of him, he had gotten there just in time- it was almost like he knew you were about to fly off, " [name]! Ha ha! how are you? " he asked holding both of your hands- a dorky smile engraved onto his face " Where have you been? I was worried " that was half-true, there was no evil (what even was evil? you didn't know, it doesn't exist not yet ) but there was a high chance that Sera was telling him off again.

" How sweet, but don't worry I'm alright cherub " he brought your hands closer to him- something that grin he held could only grow as the seconds passed by, seeming like he wanted to say something " Luci- I know that look in your eye, you've being creating again! Tell me everything ", your own smile began to grow as you squeezed his hand.

" You know me too well! Okay, so i was thinking of trying to make [ creature ], sounds cool right? well guess what else! " and with that he began to ramble about his ideas once more, with you chirping in some of your own ideas which made Lucifer sound even happier.

The two angels were at peace,

within the company of each other-

did they love each other?

would they dare say it?

You flew around with Lucifer, laughing together while yelling out some nonsense that seemed to only make sense to you and him- just you and him. Though your fun was quick to end when the two of you reached the tallest cloud in all of heaven and the two of you- both out of breath- fell onto it. " That was fun! " you chuckled, still trying to catch your breath " yeah! I loved that " was the reply, then silence fell upon the two of you. Though it wasnt awkward silence, it never was when it came to [name] and Lucifer- it was comforting and peaceful.

Though this silence was broken quickly by you. Over the last few weeks, months you were coming to understand your feelings towards the seraphim, and while you could easily deny them- to avoid them and focus of everything but that but you just couldn't, you sucked with feelings especially hiding them! and plus, how could you live if you didn't tell Luci how you felt " Luci... I " love you, those words were suddenly lodged in your throat and you couldn't let them be said- be heard why did that happen, you were sure you could say them- hell you said them before to people who you see as family!, "sorry what i meant was I- " loved you for so long now, I love you and I don't think I can ever stop loving you " loved that too- it was so fun! "

She couldn't say it,

she was too scared to tell her dear Lucifer

of her true feelings... though did he feel the same?

What was wrong with you? You couldnt say it, why? You loved Lucifer- there you admitted it in your mind but you just cant say it to him. You sighed and stared at your mirror- looking over your face, your long hair (angels all had long hair, it was one of the things that they always cared for and almost showed off)

Of course he did,

how could he not?

he loved her more than anything

she listen to his ideas, she added onto them

she never hated them, never judged.

but then, the high order formed the earth-

Adam and Lilith.

" [name? " Lucifer walked over to you, a smile on his face- though he always smiled, this smile seemed different in a way but you couldn't place your finger on it however that did not stop you from returning his smile " Luci! hey! " you grinned as he stopped just in front of you " [name]? do you know the two humans? " " Adam and Lilith? " " yes! Me and Lilith... are in love!"

...

he.. he loved the human Lilith? The one who ran from Adam (you heard of this from Sera, and while you acted disappointed you agreed with Lilith's decision of leaving Adam, you would have too), he found her and fell for her? .. how? she hasn't even existed for that long! How could you possibly fall that quick? it was impossible right?

It took you a few seconds to compose yourself so you can smile for Lucifer, though it didnt feel right " That's... brilliant Luci! I'm so happy you found love- how does it feel like? " and with that question you bared the suffering of listening to Lucifer, the one you loved, gush about Lilith, and you were almost envious of Lilith- almost hated her, you never met her and now dear god you probably don't ever want to. You had lost your Lucifer to her, though... you suppose he was never yours.

and with that,

those confessions of requited love

would forever be sealed away,

locked behind their grinning lips

though the perish of love was not their only problem.

Lucifer went too far,

he created evil through the second bride,

she bit the apple, she took the fall

and Lucifer and his love was to blame

though you would not let him be punished alone.

You too were part of this.

" No! " You screamed as you ran to the shaking Lucifer's side, almost trying to shield him from the anger of the higher order of angels. " Leave him be! He has done nothing wrong! " you defended him, still caring over your friend. Nevertheless, the angels did not listen to your words in the way you intended- they saw this as a further act of aggression from you as you also had a part to play in coursing dear Eve into biting the apple from the tree of knowledge of good or evil, you lead her to the tree, plucked the apple with Lucifer in tow and let her bite it. Now you and Lucifer were being punished, Lucifer getting the harsher side of it.

The angel was thrown to the depths,

to a world name named Hell,

where the only side of humans Lucifer was granted to see,

was the side he created.

You were also punished to fall,

tho to hell was too much they said

so you fell the half way

now for ever trapped in a dead land-

forever banished to be alone.

𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 ⠆ ⸺ @reverse-soe @jellibean2018 @aliazy @sugarrush-blush @littledolly2345 @immahuman @marsilis

[g00seg1rl]

Made To

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra

Summary: A fluffy Drabble of Azriel and Eris appreciating each other smiling, just 450 words 🤭😘

They’d been laying together for countless minutes, sprawled contentedly in the afterglow of another memorable evening of fucking each other stupid on Azriel’s large bed in the House of Wind.

Eris’s hands were lazily rubbing Azriel’s lower back, trailing up as high as they could without nearing the base of Azriel’s wings; He might have been fucked stupid, but Eris knew he didn’t want to repay his serene dumbification with any unpleasant overuse of his milked-dry dick.

Azriel slowly trailed kisses down the edge of Eris’s sharp jaw, his luscious lips dragging Eris deeper into mindless bliss. He smooched his way into the crook of Eris’s neck, and one particularly light peck tickled madly. Eris tittered.

The Shadowsinger smirked, abandoning his efforts of soft-loving and progressing his delve into evil as he nosedived into the delicate crease of Eris’s neck, causing a shivering, silent wave of laughter at his antics Eris couldn’t have stopped if he had tried.

Shadows travelled like jestering smoke up his ribs to join in on the fun, and Eris– still too lost of his bearings– giggled openly. Tomato-red, Eris’s face broke into a smile, even as he sluggishly tried to stop Azriel’s torment, which only fueling Azriel’s glee.

Azriel excavated his head from nuzzling to peer down at Eris with an equally bright smile. “I didn’t think you’d be so ticklish,” he teased, his tone light and loving.

“I didn’t think you’d be spending your time tickling me when I’d come over,” Eris snarked with a tenth of his typical venom, warmed even further by the invariable expression of joy he still felt gracing his face. Azriel chuckled.It became a full laugh when Eris’s hands travelled down to squeeze the fat of his ass in retribution.

”So pretty when you smile, Azriel,” Eris remarked aloud, though he didn’t intend to. Azriel’s golden-brown skin blushed rosier and his dimples deepened, proving Eris’s point.

“You’re so pretty always,” Azriel, a bit breathlessly, simpered.

“Okay yeah, you’re so pretty always too, but I mean especially when you smile,” Eris explained as if it was to someone far more Neanderthalic than Azriel.

He brought a hand from Azriel’s lower left cheek to rest on his upper left cheek, brushing his thumb towards the joyful concave of Azriel’s sculpted bronze face. “These adorable cheeks of yours make me think you were made for it, smiling and laughing gorgeously,” Eris offered his evidence.

Azriel meeped and hid his redding face in Eris’s welcoming crook, robbing Eris of the lovely sight. For once, Eris chose not to complain, comforted by the reminding ache in his ass and the mental image of Azriel’s bashful, smiling face admiring Eris’s own tickle-induced laugh.

Beta read and author spanked by @the-darkestminds, I thank and love you dearly mami 💗

Azris babes and boo thangs: @astro-h0e-4azris @nus4y @jules-writes-stories @pippsmcgee @mistandmemories @fourteentrout @iftheshoef1tz @missblackstar @irithiadourden @sunstar-drabbles @icey--stars @molcat07 @3xolara @mudandmire @makinglongwordsslutty @wovendreamscapes @neciebee @talibunny30 @chunkypossum @fingerpoppingood @brunetterebel010 lmk if you’d like to be on/off my lil list, two fics for these two coming Very soon 🫡😘

[noblecorgi]

2024: A Re-Entry to Fandom

I guess this is a thing? (Oh shit this brackets bit was written at the end and I appear to have emotionally vomited an essay. Sorry ‘bout that.)

In late 2023 I experienced a personal tragedy and retreated to where I had always found comfort: books.

I read a series that had been recommended to me before, but I hadn’t had time to read it - The Simon Snow Trilogy by @rainbowrowell and it awoke a dormant-but-never-forgotten love of fanfiction in me.

In my teens and early 20s I wrote a lot of fan fiction on the ol’ FF net, all of it of atrocious quality I’m certain, which is why I haven’t tried to rediscover that account.

Instead I found AO3, and restarted regularly writing for fun instead of for work or study/research.

I didn’t do any summation for 2023 because I think my first fic was posted on like 10 December 2023, but AO3 tells me I wrote 4 works, all SnowBaz, at a total of 55,154 words.

In 2024, I’ve published 5 works, at a total of 94,323 words.

What truly blows me away (and honestly makes me a bit teary) is the 1013 kudos, 100 subscribers (inc 15 subscribers to just me rather than a fic!), and 222 comment threads on my works. 🥹

So: my 2024 works.

Use your words, SnowBaz, Rated: E, 3,930 words

A smutty lil gift fic wherein Baz teaches Simon how to sext.

Splendid Morons, SnowBaz, Rated: E, 12,886 words

Published for Erotic Grope Fest, aka Baz’s birthday. A collaboration with @alexalexinii and a story written to enable their amazing art of Baz in lingerie.

Precious to me for not only getting to work with Alex, but also for being the beginning of my relationship with Becky @rbkzz, my incomparable beta who has become one of the dearest people in my life.

On The Rocks, SnowBaz, Rated: E, 74,592 words (WIP)

My opus, as it were. It originated from a fluffy cute prompt of “what if Baz and Lady Ruth were work besties?!” And I came along like “YEAH! But with trauma, exploration of love in mental illness, and alcoholism!”

I began posting it in March and it’s about 2/3 done now. But for Becky it would be both an absolute pile of horse poop, and an abandoned WIP. Instead it has a clear direction and she found motifs that I’d repeatedly used by accident in my drafts and built imagery, greater meaning, and also debated me ad nauseam on my preference for spelt over spelled.

Immune Response, @lumosinlove’s Cubs, Rated: G, 1,421 words

I was a big consumer of WolfStar in my teens and was recommended Lumosinlove’s Sweater Weather and, like many before me, fell in love with the story, the original characters, and ice hockey itself (much to the surprised glee of my Canadian spouse, who for a decade has tried in vain to get me on board. Little did he know the key was obviously gays.)

This is a lil’ slice of life sick fic examining how each of the Cubs responds to getting sick.

I have a lot more unpublished drabbles about these characters and some fics that are being cocreated so stay tuned for 2025?

Preliminary, my dear Basil, SnowBaz, Rated: T, 1,494 words

A gift fic for @martsonmars as part of the Carry On Discord’s Secret Snowflake Exchange.

Among their suggestions was “Sherlock AU, but not BBC Sherlock, 19th century Sherlock” and it hooked me with the idea that Baz would absolutely fancy himself as Sherlock. I actually sketched out a plot to SnowBazify 4 of the Holmes stories, so maybe 2025 will see them unearthed.

There is one other published fic I worked on this year, but as a beta rather than a writer for @swoopswrites @rsbigbang piece Class A which was super fun to do (and got me to watch a great series - The Gentlemen on Netflix) and Swoops has a fantastic mind so I’d encourage you to to check it out.

Finally, I have always been a writer rather than an artist, but I do enjoy drawing, and the need to upgrade my iPad for work arose and so I also tried my hand at drawing again for the first time since I was 17 or so.

In order from the first one to the most recent one, the lil scribbles I did this year:

Penelope Bunce, Wolfstar on a train, Baz with coffee, cuddly Cubs, FinnLo being adorable, iconic Moony with a cane, emo Sirius Black.

And THAT was 2024 (and 2023).

@artsyunderstudy @asocialpessimist @angelsfalling16 @whatevertheweather @edenalix @emjaydellyone @erzbethluna @emeryhall @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @roomwithanopenfire @thehoneyedhufflepuff @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @lonleyhumanbeing @letraspal @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @ichooseyousnowbaz @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @onepintobean @palimpsessed @prettygoododds @philaet0s @pacey-bunce-loves-joey @sorenphelps @skee3000 @stitchy-queerista @fiend-for-culture @facewithoutheart @fruitcoops @girlwithcurls96 @hushed-chorus @hihimissamericanbi @cutestkilla @cosmicalart @confused-bi-queer @noopienoopiernoopiest @messofthejess @monbons

[eeriepromis]

ANOMALY DETECTED: MEET YOURSELF, COLONEL

Caleb had thought he'd seen it all. Years of missions in the Farspace Fleet, brushes with death, being experimented on and battles with forces beyond human comprehension had numbed him to surprises. Yet nothing in his meticulously disciplined life could've prepared him for the walking disaster smirking at him from across the dimly lit hangar.

She stood casually, like chaos wrapped in human skin, her tousled hair a defiant mess, eyes glinting with a reckless humor that instantly irritated him. Her patched-up colonel combat suit bore the scars of countless battles - strips of mismatched fabric and improvised repairs speaking loudly of desperation and resourcefulness. Caleb immediately disliked her relaxed stance, hands on hips, utterly unconcerned about the gun pointed straight at her head - she must be even more twisted than him.

She gave a low whistle, unimpressed. "Seriously? You always greet yourself at gunpoint?"

He narrowed his eyes, finger tightening on the trigger. "Who are you? Clone? Shapeshifter? Another twisted Ever experiment?"

The woman - so frustratingly familiar yet utterly alien - chuckled, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence. "Relax, Colonel. I'm you - but better. From the future, though admittedly one that’s slightly on fire and falling apart."

Caleb scoffed, suspicion curling in his gut. "Convenient story. Why should I believe you're anything but another one of Ever's twisted experiments?"

She raised an eyebrow, stepping forward casually until the cold muzzle pressed firmly against her forehead. Her eyes, fierce yet playful, locked with his in silent challenge.

"Because I know things no clone could fake," she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. Caleb could practically feel the smirk on her lips growing sharper. "For example, Colonel, remember that One Direction phase you buried deep, deep down?"

Caleb froze, pulse pounding uncomfortably loud in his ears. He desperately wanted to deny it, but the look on her face left no room for lies.

She grinned, voice dripping with glee. "Oh yeah, I know all about your Tumblr blog too. About you writing Imagines while listening to their songs - picturing her in every one of them."

He fired a shot instinctively, embarrassment overcoming his judgment. She dodged effortlessly, laughing like she’d expected it.

"Ohhh, big boy brought out the gun already? We didn’t even have dinner first. Still a touchy subject, huh?" she taunted, sidestepping smoothly. "Guess some things never change."

Chaos erupted the instant the trigger clicked beneath Colonel Caleb’s finger, the air around him crackling with raw energy. Bullets sliced through the abandoned hangar, each round warping space as Caleb commanded gravity itself. Fragments of metal and concrete floated eerily around him, spinning like satellites as his violet eyes blazed with focus.

His impossible, gender-flipped counterpart merely laughed, eyes sparkling with wild delight. She moved like liquid, weaving between gravity wells and bullets alike. Her boots barely touched the ground as if physics held no power over her, a twisted ballet performed with reckless abandon.

“You’ve gone soft, Colonel!” she taunted, springing off a rusted cargo crate, soaring into the air as she returned fire mid-spin. Her shots ricocheted with pinpoint accuracy, forcing Caleb back a step. He snarled, raising a wall of distorted gravity just in time. Bullets flattened against the invisible barrier, falling harmlessly to the floor.

“How?” Caleb snapped, frustration and awe warring in his voice. Each strike, each bullet fired, perfectly countered and dodged, as if fighting a twisted reflection. Her style was reckless yet effective. It infuriated him how she anticipated every move, as though she'd studied him for a lifetime.

“Future perks, sweetheart,” she mocked, launching herself at him once more. This time, she flicked a wrist and a pulse of blue energy exploded outward, shattering his gravity field instantly. Caleb staggered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Before he could recover, she was on him, close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. Her fist connected with his jaw, and he reeled back, tasting blood. His vision blurred briefly as he wiped the trickle from his lip.

She smirked. “C’mon, Colonel, you fight like it’s your first apocalypse.”

Caleb growled, rage sharpening his focus. He slammed his palm to the ground, unleashing a devastating pulse of gravitational force. The concrete shattered, cracking open the floor as the shockwave hurled her backward.

But instead of crashing, she twisted gracefully in midair, landing softly on her feet as if gravity had personally favored her.

“Cute,” she taunted, brushing dust off her shoulder. Then, with a wicked grin, she flicked her free hand again, revealing a glowing band of light around her wrist. “But let me show you something really fun.”

She did something, and instantly multiple holographic duplicates burst from her position, each indistinguishable from the original. They surrounded Caleb in an instant, weapons raised, eyes glinting with identical amusement.

Caleb stood frozen, heart pounding with adrenaline as he spun around, his instincts overwhelmed.

“Cheating,” he accused coldly.

She and her clones all laughed in unison. “Survival of the fittest. Also a handy little gift from a close ally.”

Caleb clenched his fist tightly, focusing the full strength of his gravity Evol inward. A shockwave exploded outward, knocking the holograms back. Most dissipated instantly - but one remained, materializing solidly, stumbling to one knee.

Caleb seized the opening, sprinting forward to pin her down. His hand closed around her wrist, pressing her firmly against the floor, face inches from hers.

Breathing raggedly, Caleb glared down at her. "If you're really me," he demanded between strained breaths, "then explain yourself."

Her smirk didn’t falter, despite the blood now trailing down her temple. She merely tilted her head slightly, eyes defiant yet oddly resigned. “Nice move. You almost had me worried.”

“Why are you here?” Caleb hissed through clenched teeth, his grip tightening painfully. “Why now? And why the hell are you-”

“-Female?” She finished for him, laughter returning to her voice despite her vulnerable position. “Aw, Colonel, I thought you’d never ask.”

He scowled, irritation flaring again. “Answer me.”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “You ever try punching through a collapsing chronorift? It’s like diving headfirst through a cosmic blender. Sometimes you lose more than your sanity. One little slip-up, and boom-” She gestured to herself with mock flair. “Hello, Callie.”

Caleb stared at her in incredulous silence, words momentarily lost. He finally released her, stepping back with a heavy sigh. “You’re a walking catastrophe.”

She rose gracefully, brushing dust from her suit and grinning wide. “Aw, you flatter me.”

He scowled deeper, rubbing his temples. “So why come back?”

Her playful mask slipped for the first time, something haunted flickering behind her cocky demeanor. She put away her guns, gaze distant. Modified guns with crow emblems, Caleb noticed, 

"Because in my timeline," she began softly, voice rough with suppressed emotion, "she’s already dead. Everyone's dead. Her, Zayne, Gideon, every ally - gone. Linkon's in Ashes. There's nothing left. Just ruins and memories, Caleb. And me."

A cold chill crawled down Caleb's spine. The weight of her words pressed heavily, resonating deeply within him. It felt real - painfully real. Her eyes were tired, burdened by tragedies he couldn't yet fathom. “What exactly went wrong in your timeline?”

She turned serious, the mischievous glint dimming in her eyes. “Everything. And unless we fix this mess together, yours is next.”

He hesitated, tension loosening from his shoulders as he put away his guns too. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

She huffed, annoyance resurfacing. "If I were a fake, Ever would’ve made me a hell of a lot more compliant - and definitely hotter."

Caleb’s mouth twitched. Despite everything, her sharp tongue and irritating smirk were strangely comforting. The unsettling familiarity made him uneasy but, oddly enough, less alone.

She crossed her arms, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Look, you're stubborn, paranoid, and emotionally traumatised - I get it. I’m you, remember? But we're running out of time, literally. If we don’t sort this out, neither of us will exist."

Caleb’s eyes darkened, irritation warring with reluctant trust. "Fine. Temporary alliance. And if you’re lying-"

She waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah. You'll shoot me. Been there, done that. Now- can we get on with saving our tragically messed-up timelines or what?"

He sighed, resisting the sudden urge to smile at her irreverent confidence. "I’m already regretting this." Callie smirked, her chaotic energy practically radiating. "Oh, buddy, you haven't even seen how bad this can get yet. You’re not gonna like what I have to say.”