#all fics will be updated in due course

[evansbby]

started writing more of my full length sugar daddy Ari fic and I’m so in love with it 🥹💞💓 but omfg it’s gonna be loooong bc I’ve planned multiple smut scenes and there’s a lot of dialogue heavy scenes and of course, plot and drama!!! I’m really just trying to cram everything into this to make it the most self-indulgent, sexiest, smuttiest, daddiest fic everrrr 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[orcelito]

Tonight's the last night in the cabin, which means tomorrow I'm gonna be in the car for 6 hours 😑

But then on Sunday I'll be back home to my kitties 🥺🥺🥺 so I just gotta stay strong... gonna be home before too long...

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | dbf!Joel Miller x reader

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | you're stranded, you need help—of course, Joel Miller is your savior.

content warning | listen. i wrote this in 3 hours, idk what to say. i had a thot and it went from there. its completely p w/o p, dbf!joel, age gap, moodboard is for aesthetic and reader is mostly not described aside from hair long enough to be put up, unhinged popsicle eating, eye-fucking, public-ish unprotected p in v car sex. listen i'm on my period rn don't look at me and thank you for my love, my twin, @chaotic-mystery for constantly supporting my gremlin behavior

word count — 3.2k

Out of all the people you had the chance of running into—of course it was Joel.

The chances were slim, but not impossible. You knew his work schedule well enough, similar to that of your fathers. He worked early mornings into the late evening, taking his commute home just as the sun was starting to set.

You gripped the gas can in one hand as you made your way down the side road, the other hand placed over your eyes like a visor to block the sun away. You didn’t even have a cell signal out here, so the walk seemed fruitless.

But, you had to find a gas station. 

You thought you could make it home, which was clearly poor judgment, and the hair falling from the haphazardly tied knot on top of your head was sticking to your neck, eyes squinting as the truck pulled up next to you.

“Now, darlin’—the hell are you doin’ out here in the middle of nowhere?” Joel asks, the blast of AC hitting you in the face as he rolls down the window, arm leaned over the console as he looked you over. 

It was clear you’ve been out here longer than you should and Joel doesn’t even take a second to hesitate before he’s popping the handle on the passenger door and inviting you inside the cooler cabin of his truck.

“Where are you comin’ from?” He asks, shifting the truck into drive before he rests his palm over the gear shift.

“A friend, I thought I had enough gas to make it home but,” You shrug, waving vaguely at your car parked on the side of the road as he drives by.

What took a fifteen minute walk to where Joel had picked you up was only a minute or so drive back. Joel looks at you wearily and turns up the AC, blasting the stray hairs away from your face but the immediate burst of cold feels like absolute heaven.

“Grab a water out of my cooler, sweetheart,” He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder and you scramble, leaning over the center console with your ass popped up in the air.

Joel assumed it had to have been a pool party, the skirt covering your bottom half doing nothing to hide the thin, strappy bikini bottoms you wore underneath. 

Joel doesn’t mean to stare, but he’s worried that you might hurt yourself, his hand reaching out to wrap around your calf in an effort to keep you steady.

A subtle smirk plays at the corner of your mouth as you reach for the water inside the cooler and pop your head back up, your ass grazing his hand on the way down as you twist back into your seat.

Little touches were never a big thing with you two, normal and constant and nothing unusual.

A hand on your shoulder at family cookouts, his hands engulfing yours as he popped open the cap on your beer, a squeeze of his hand at the back of your neck when he hugged you after a month or two of not seeing you around your father’s house due to college or work, whatever was keeping you so busy. He didn’t try to pry, but you’ve been around less and less with each passing summer—so this unsuspecting time with you, he didn’t mind. It was nice.

Really nice.

You twist at the cap and take a drink of the water, so thirsty that it starts to drip out of your mouth, a small droplet down your chin, reaching your chest and down the center of your breasts.

“It ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Joel jokes, squinting his eyes as he hides the growing grin on his face with his usual frown.

“Sorry, being out in that heat like that…” You take a breath, recalling the bottle and putting it in the drink holder, “I just feel so stupid for thinking I could make it.“

When the street lights come into view, you know you're closer to actual civilization. And, just as Joel takes a right on the next intersection you stop at, there it was.

“It happens,” Joel comforts, “but you were lucky I was drivin’ home—can’t even think about what could have happened if I didn’t pass by.”

Joel pulls into the gas station and turns off the ignition.

“Well,” You flash a bright smile, squeezing at his shoulder—he’s got on a dark shirt plastered with the logo of the construction company he worked for, faded and slightly damp from his own sweat, “you did and I’m thankful for it, Joel.”

“Hand it over,” Joel motions toward the gas can, “I’ll fill ‘er up for you.”

“Joel, you don’t have to—“

Joel tilts his head toward the gas can at your feet, eyebrows raised and hand held out expectantly.

“Just hand it over.”

You sigh softly and relent, reaching between your legs to grab the plastic jug, knowing of the eyes that drag down your spine from the open back of your top, tied just as your neck and the side of your breasts spilling out of your swim top.

Joel knows a snag, just a simple hook of his fingers would send them spilling out into the cool air, nipples perked up under the mesh fabric of your top and—

“Joel.”

Joel’s eyes pull up suddenly, his face flushed but he’s lucked out by the redness of hot, summer heat on his face.. He clears his throat and grabs the gas can.

“Be right back,” He tells you, “stay put, alright?”

“And where would I go?” You retort playful, “I’m sure you’d find me again anyways.”

Joel chuckles to himself with a shake of his head as he departs into the store, handing a ten to the clerk before he takes a quick glance back at you, fanning yourself with your hand and chugging down another swig of water.

“Actually,” Joel pauses for a moment, holding a finger up as he lingers down the aisle toward the freezer and grabs out two popsicles, hoping that would quell some of the heat, even if for a moment—plus, he knew you had quite the sweet tooth, “there, just put whatever’s left on the pump and I’ll use that to fill it up.”

The clerk nods and scans the items, handing Joel off the receipt and he’s half jogging back toward his truck—quick to toss you the keys and the two popsicle’s he’d bought.

“What is this?” You ask cheerfully, eyes lighting up as they plopped into your lap.

Joel kept the driver's side open as he filled up the gas can, watching as you peeled eagerly at the popsicle, the red dye immediately dripping down your fingers as you pulled away the plastic.

“Just throw it on the floorboard—I’ll clean it up later,” Joel notes as you look around, placing the lid back on the gas can before climbing back into the truck, “you mind openin’ mine?”

You place the cherry flavored popsicle between your lips with an eagerness that forces Joel to look away, the sound of you peeling away plastic in his ear as he pulls out of the gas station and makes his way back toward your car.

“Thank you, baby,” He says casually—not all that odd either, he’s got a million nicknames for you, some trickier to let slip around others but there was an unspoken agreement. You never minded, never cared.

He was only ever Joel to you and he didn’t mind that either. 

“Of course,” You smile, before dragging your tongue along the bottom of the popsicle and back up, sinking it back between your lips.

Joel just bites at it, not one to savor things very often.

You giggle and roll your eyes, the popsicle tip just as the edge of your lips before Joel is looking over at you curiously, ignoring the red stain of popsicle on your tongue as it peeks out.

“What?”

“Just—you’re not even trying to enjoy it, Joel.”

“It’s meant to be eaten, right?”

“It’s hot—it’s a cold treat, you’re supposed to make it last a little. Come on,” You hold the popsicle out for demonstration before licking up the side, sinking your lips back down in a show that was more for yourself, knowing how he constantly looked at you—if Joel chokes on the bite of flavored ice in his mouth you don’t see it.

It wasn’t a secret, how he looked at you. It’s been a few years since you left for college and teetering that line, nearing your mid-twenties now it seemed like it had only gotten more and more obvious. Joel’s never made his own advances aside from the one time your drunken state made you a little too confident, sliding between his legs at one of your family parties late at night, pressing a kiss right against his lips that ended far too quickly. 

He did kiss you back though, you do remember that.

“Alright, alright,” Joel waves his hand at you nonchalantly, “you can cut that out.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling the sticky sweet juice slip down your fingers as the popsicle starts to melt, nearly finished as Joel had already downed his own.

“I’m just eating the popsicle,” You brush him off, “that you bought me—“

“You know what I’m talkin’ about, sweetheart.”

You do, but that half second of lingering pause makes Joel worry he has read the situation completely wrong.

“What? Do you not like it?” You tease him, “Doesn’t it turn you on, Joel?”

You finish up the last bit before tucking the stick into the plastic and back on the ground, suddenly realizing the red dye had stained the front of your top, causing a frown to form on your face as you rubbed at the material.

“Shit,” You curse, ignoring the heated look on Joel’s face at your words, practically oblivious with the sudden distraction. You pull at the tie on the back of your top and bunch up the fabric as you stuff it between your lap, meeting Joel’s half-dumbstruck look as he tries to keep his eyes on the road but also can’t draw his eyes away from you, “what—I got it all over my shirt?”

Joel pulls to the side of the road in an instant, forcing the truck into park, “What are you playin’ at?”

You look at him with confusion, narrowing your eyes.

“What? Why did you pull over?”

“What are the chances of me findin’ you out here? On this road?” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, “Hm?”

You feign innocence for a few seconds before you cave, smiling with a devilish glint, resting your chin in your hand as you lean against the center console, your bikini top doing nothing to cover the plump of your breasts as the press against the fabric.

“Well, I mean—I figured they were pretty likely but—“

“Is your car even out of gas?”

You chew at your bottom lip thoughtfully, eyes tilting upwards in thought—truth…lie. 

Joel seemed set on getting the truth. So, you give it to him.

“No, but I had you going, didn’t I?”

Joel is silent for too long and you raise your eyebrows in question before Joel reaches forward, tugging at the lever under his seat to send him scooting back.

“Come here,” It’s simple. An instruction. 

But the look on his face—the intimidation shakes you to your core.

“Now, don’t back off,” Joel challenges, “it’s what you wanted, right?”

“As if you don’t want it either,” You counter, “you’ve been eye-fucking me since I got in your truck.”

Joel doesn’t even deny it, only waits. A simple nod of his head in a gesture for you to climb over and into his lap.

So, you do.

His hands immediately find your thighs and push up the denim skirt, your own hands resting at your sides as you scoot until your cunt is pressed up against the hard line of his zipper, the denim of his jeans so sensitive against your bare skin, feeling like all your senses were dialed up.

“We do this,” Joel starts, “there’s no going back. So, I need you to think if you really want this or—“

You surge forward, forcing the back of his head into the headrest as you swallow his words in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, tongues clashing with the taste of sugary sweetness.

“Gotta be quick,” Joel tells you, his words lost on deaf ears as your hands drag down his front, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne, the ironic freshness despite having worked in the heat all day, “can I fuck you, baby? S’that too much to ask?”

You shake your head, peppering soft kisses against his lips, along his jaw, feeling his fingers reach for each tie at your hips and pull, his hand immediately sliding over your cunt, cupping you with the warmth of his palm.

“Get it out, baby—got my hands a little busy right now.”

The heat in his words makes your pussy clench, but your hands move even faster, dragging over the front of his jeans and pulling at the zipper swiftly and Joel lifts his hips enough to get them down his thighs but that was it, hissing at the instant your hand closes around his cock.

“You got a problem with me fuckin’ you like this?” Joel asks, a true gentleman, but you roll your eyes. “Don’t even know why I asked—you’ve been beggin’ for it.”

You tilt your head, smiling at him playfully before you lick at your fingers and taste the remaining sticky sugar before pressing them along the center of your cunt, mixed with the already growing slick—Joel nudges at your entrance as you watch, the tip of his cock notched against your hole and your pussy quivers with the anticipation as he drags his cock up, down, up, before sliding in all at once.

It’s slow, but intense. Your eyes close, brow drawing together as he pulls you further and further down his cock.

“Open,” He breathes out, “open your eyes and look at how you’re takin’ me, baby.”

You blink quickly, grabbing onto his bicep for purchase as you look down, his hands squeezing at the tops of your thighs as he admired, watching the way his cock has you on the edge of near tears—a mix of overwhelming emotion and intense sensation.

Joel pulls at your top gently and it falls without much struggle, he bunches the material up and tosses it aside with your bottoms, massaging the swell of your tits under his palms as you rock your hips slowly, hearing the soft grunt behind his closed lips as you lean into his touch.

Flicking his thumb over your nipples, he admires the way the nubs hardered, like he’d imagine earlier—he tries not to dwell on how you both got here, like it wasn’t years of built up tension finally crumbling underneath you both.

“Don’t be shy,” He tells you, “take whatever you need, baby.”

As does he, leaning forward to press his lips against your breast, tongue lapping over the pert nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, drawing a soft sigh out of you.

You lift your hips, in time with the hand of his own that drops to your side to quicken your pace, “Wanna take my time with you but we can’t,” Joel admits, “gotta get home.”

You nod, knowing he had his own responsibilities as a father—you don’t argue, placing your hands against the headrest and raising your hips nearly off of his cock before sinking back down quickly, keeping that pace for as long as your body will allow, shared breaths into each others mouth as he hands travel from your tits to your face, the largeness of his palms engulfing your face as he brings his lips to your mouth again, again, soft whispers of words you know he doesn’t mean. Promises you know are fleeting and easy to break. 

You couldn’t be with him, but you would take whatever this is.

“Just like that, baby,” He murmurs, grunting harshly into your ear as you tuck your head into his neck, his hand buried into the hair at the back of your head as you sink down onto his cock desperately, crying out into the side of his throat as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting so deep inside of you it makes you clench, biting down gently on his skin, “I feel it, I felt it.”

You snake your hand between your legs, finding your clit quickly and rubbing over the swollen nub, and Joel can tell by the neediness in your tone, moans broken into his skin as he fucks into you, haphazardly scanning the road for any passing cars—but he knew this place was always deserted, a shitty road that no one ever took.

Not even you, but today—it wasn’t a coincidence. 

“That’s right, baby,” Joel sighs, head thrown back as he groaned out, “gon’ let me use this pussy, yeah?”

You nod instinctively, willing to agree with whatever Joel asked.

“Wanna fill her up,” Joel admits, forcing you to lift your head and look at him, head tilted down slightly to meet your eyes, “that alright, darlin’?”

You nod again, but coherent this time. 

He loosens the reins completely by then, practically hauling you over his shoulder as he pounds into you, encourage the hand on your clit as he squeezes a handful of your ass under his palm, marking the skin with a few firm slaps that has you moaning out loudly into the sacred space of the truck.

“Joel, please—“ You gasp, “I’m gonna—right there,”

“I know, baby. I know.” He says softly, but the strain in his voice is obvious, groaning through clenched teeth as your orgasm crests, warmth spreading as you gush over his cock, the momentary bliss of sensation making your forget where you were, suddenly wishing that this had been a little less impulsive, wondering how Joel would treat you within the walls of his bedroom, buried in the sheets of his bed.

When Joel comes, it’s intense. His hands squeezing at your waist hard, his hips jerking out of rhythm as he stills you, coming inside of you with a deep groan, pulling you in for a frenzied kiss, laughing at how your faces uncoordinatedly press together, your nose smushed against his own and he kisses at the tip of your own as you pull away, his hair messier than when you started from your insistent grabbing and pulling during the heat of your orgasm.

He looked a complete mess, actually.

“You okay?” He asks after a long pause, his hand rubbing at your back, cock still buried inside you on the side of an empty road. 

“Mhm,” You nod drearily.

“Baby, you gotta drive home now.” He tells you and you know—it doesn’t make it any easier, though. “Don’t pull this shit again, alright?”

If he’d see it any other way you would have flinched, but it was soft and comforting—not a warning.

“You need somethin’, you come knockin’ on my door.”

And you know he means it.

“Okay, I will.”

“Swear,” That was an order, “I need to hear it.”

“I swear.” You reply quietly.

Joel doesn’t push you away, though.

If anything, he savors the few moments he has in this dreamy afterglow, a taste of what could be—but you both know never will. 

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warning: postpartum depression requested by multiple: mama's family

"Where's my baby?!"

You can practically hear your teeth grinding together as you give your aunt a tight lipped smile. "He's due to get up any minute." She sighs, like it's an inconvenience, your mom hot on her heels.

"Hi honey," she says, glancing around your now pristine flat, "how are things?"

"Oh, fine." It's the same thing you've been saying this whole time. I'm fine. I'm good. Everything is great. "Went to the pediatrician the other day, Ry is perfect and healthy." You omit the rest of your news, the sudden reappearance of Simon, the stable, consistent presence in your life, the man who was supporting you in anyway he could.

Even though you absolutely do not want your mom or your aunt to meet him, let alone know about him-

you still kind of wish he was here.

He told you yesterday, regretfully, that he had meetings on base all day today, and you told him your mom and aunt were coming by, but probably wouldn't stay long. It was good, that he wouldn't be around.

Before he left for the night, he made you promise to call if you needed him. Text him to check in. You did as he asked, but didn't hear much. Not a surprise, since he said he wouldn't have a lot of time to respond, but still wanted updates.

"That's great honey." Her smile is genuine, and you know she means it. She does mean well, mostly. It's not her fault you're bad at asking for help, or that since you left home, you've become stubbornly independent. You even spent a few years "gallivanting across the globe" as your sister liked to say, shirking responsibility after uni.

Your family was used to you being a bit of a ghost.

"- don't you think?" Your aunt's voice brings you back to earth, and you nod robotically, unsure of what you're agreeing to. You're about to apologize for missing the conversation when the baby monitor on the kitchen counter lights up, Orion's fussy 'I just woke up mom, come get me' cry crackling from the speaker.

"That's for me." You joke half heartedly with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. You know the battle with ensue as soon as you come back into the living room with the baby, and you dread it.

"Hi baby." You bend at the waist, scooping him out of his crib. "You're gettin' too heavy for mama, big boy. Don't know what I'm gonna do when you're older." The thought stops you in your tracks, the acknowledgement that he'll get older, that soon he'll be six months, and then a year, two. He'll learn to crawl, to walk, to speak. It's exciting, and anxiety inducing. What if you mess him up? What if you don't give him a good life? What if you're not a good mom, or he gets sick, or there's an accident, or an attack or-

No. You're not going to do this. You're not going to fall into these obsessive what ifs. It will only make you sick to your stomach.

You get him into a new nappy and clothes before slinking back into the living room, cowed with your head down. His head turns against your chest, seeking, and you know he's starting to realize he's hungry.

But the vultures don't care.

"Bring that boy over here, let me hold him." Your aunt croons, syrupy sick voice conjuring a roar of nausea.

"He's probably hungry." You start to warn them that this won't last long as you lower him into her arms, but you know it will fall on deaf ears. "So-"

"Just get a bottle from the fridge dear, I can feed him no problem." You fight the urge to to snap at her, unreasonable rage swelling inside your heart. No one feeds him except you, and Simon. Bottles are fine when you're asleep and can't nurse, or between feedings, but he doesn't eat as much from them. Of course, you've tried to tell them that, multiple times, but it never seems to stick. Your mom knows, but she never stands up to her older sister.

Like mother like daughter, you guess. You've never been a doormat per se, but you don't have a strongest backbone, and becoming a mom has changed you, a lot. You've become even more soft, more sensitive. It's... a problem.

"How are you feeling, honey?" You know she's asking mostly about your body, your stitches, your physical aches and pains, which were plenty considering what you went through when Ry was born, but your mom's voice is gentle, like she senses you frustration, and you give her a weak smile. It's nice she's expressing interest, but that's usually as far as it goes, unless you count the meals she's brought over that you barely picked it, not having enough energy to even feed yourself, or shower, or the suggestion that you give her the baby all the time so you could 'take a break' even though he screamed the moment he was separated from you. Not helpful. Nobody cared that you had scary thoughts, scary moments, scary days. Nobody offered to be here at night with you, when you were all alone with the baby after dark, terrified, crying in the bathroom with your face buried in a towel so you wouldn't wake him. No one was here when you were afraid you might hurt him, or yourself, and no one seemed to hear you when you shrugged over and over again, your lack of interest in everything explicitly clear.

You sucked at asking for help, so you didn't. And when you did, you never got it right, or got the right answers, so you stopped asking. Everything became fine. Good.

"Fine, good." She opens her mouth to say something, ask some question, probably about Ry, when your blood goes cold.

The sound of your front door opening rings out like a bang, your eyes widening in panic, and you nearly run to the kitchen.

Oh fuck. Oh no, no no no-

You turn in slow motion to see your baby's daddy, the man who has a key now, stepping through the doorway. As soon as you lay eyes on him, you split down the middle. You're horrified, because of what's about to happen with the two hens on the couch and-

your libido roars to life. Simon's not wearing his usual jeans or joggers and black hoodie, but a camouflage military uniform. One that he fills out, broad shoulders and broad chest fitted snug inside the material. You think you're staring. Or drooling. Or both.

His lips quirk up on one side with a secretive, almost seductive smile, and he peeks over your shoulder before turning his attention back to you. "Hey mama."

"H-hey. Uh. Hi." Your hands uselessly flit around, like you're trying to swat some invisible bugs away or something. "My mom is still here. And my aunt," you can't help yourself, you take him in from head to toe one more time, "you look... nice."

"Price makes me wear my BDU for on base meetings." He grunts, slightly exasperated. Who?

"BDU?"

"Battle dress uniform. It's... the approved, standard uniform. I don't wear it... in the field." His lips press together, and your mind wanders, curious questions about 'the field' popping up like fireworks, but you push them away. Now is definitely not the right time. His thumb brushes your cheek, under your eye, and he frowns. "Everything alright?"

You step to the side, motioning to the living room, where your aunt and mother are whispering fiercely. You roll your shoulders, and take a deep breath. "Do you... want to, say hi?" The question is weak, your voice small. His brow furrows. He looks hesitant, and you don't blame him. They're a lot. It's a lot. He glances down at you again, head tilted in consideration. "Or you could just go. If you ran out that door... well I'd only wish I could come with you." You whisper, and he cracks a smile.

"No. 'm not runnin' from any part of you, sweetheart. C'mon. They can't be worse than..." he trails off, odd look in his eyes before it clears, "they can't be worse than a lot of things."

He follows you around the corner of the kitchen, crossing the threshold of the living room with two large strides.

Your mother gasps. Your aunt makes a sound that you can only describe as a goose being strangled, and Orion starts to cry. Perfect.

"Oh, oh shhh, shhhh." Your aunt tries to soothe him, but you know it won't work.

"Mom," you call over the noise, gesturing to the giant man standing next to your coffee table, and you, "Mom! This is Simon." She stares at you, confused, shocked even. You never told her your one night stand's name, just that you couldn't track him down, so she doesn't make the connection.

Still, she gapes at him. Clears her throat with a question.

"Is this... your boyfriend honey?" Your aunt's expression is not much different, and you freeze. Is he? Is that what this is? You half expect Simon to reject the term boyfriend flat out, but instead-

"Something like that." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you lean into it, relishing the comfort. Just the presence of him in the flat is enough to soothe you, lessen the tension you feel building in your chest. "Sounds like he's hungry, mama."

"Yeah, I think he's more than ready." You reach for Ry, eager to pick him up, but your aunt shifts her body, shying away, turning her shoulder to you. You're used to this, the keep away, the way they always try to convince you he'll calm down, to let them hold him for too long, to get him a bottle... but Simon is not.

He goes rigid at your side. You can feel the muscle in his arm turn to stone, and his eyes narrow, upper lip curling. Your mother's eyes go wide, but your aunt remains oblivious. "I can feed him, dear. Go get a bottle warmed up and-"

"No." Simon snaps, rough pitch of his voice dipping deeper into the manc accent, and she bristles. This bitch wouldn't be scared of the devil himself.

"Excuse me?" You watch the muscle in his jaw flex with fascination, wondering what he'll do next. You're brought back to when you met, when he stared down the guy who pushed you out of the way at the bar like he was going to murder him, before calling you over to settle next to his thigh. He put his hand on your waist, shielded you from everyone else for the rest of the night.

You were a goner before you ever had a chance to begin.

"Orion wants his mother. You can hand him over without a fuss, or I can throw you out of this flat. Your choice." His words are hard, cold steel, a sharp knife slicing away, exposing vulnerable parts and smashing them to pieces.

Your aunt has the gall to look scandalized, but when you glance at your mother, she has a different expression. It's warm. Approving. She mets your eyes with a small smile as you scoop Orion up, and then she stands.

"We'll get out of your hair, honey." She tugs you into a half hug before looking over. "Nice to meet you Simon." Your aunt is ranting and raving all the way to your front door, but once it's shut...

"Bloody hell." He mutters, and shakes his head. "I won't let anyone push you 'round like that, sweetheart. Family or not. Especially not in your own home, I-"

"Thank you." It's all you can say. "I um, kind of suck at sticking up for myself, sometimes. It means a lot, that you would do that. For me." He steps close, hand covering Orion's belly and chest, even though he's still crying.

"Kitten doesn't have any claws," he murmurs against your ear, and your eyebrows knit together. Uh... what? "Don't worry, you won't need 'em. Not now that you have me." There's something dangerous in his tone, something lethal and profound. It’s as fervid as his proclamation about his commitment to you, to Orion. Like dark water, bottomless and black, it draws you out deeper, sends shivers up your spine, but doesn't turn you away. It makes you curious, intrigued, desperate to peel back his layers, to dig into him until you know it all, inside and out.

Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say?

You weren't afraid of him that night, and you're not afraid now. You know Simon is not an ordinary man. You know you've bitten off a lot, by having his baby, rekindling this connection, giving him a key-

but you plan to chew.

[nightsmarish]

Summary: James has always woken up early, but you and regulus always sleep late

Poly!starchaser x reader (James potter x reader x regulus black) | 674 words

Tw: a cat, James is shirtless, regulus and reader have a little anxiety maybe???, almost a full all-nighter

an: so sorry for no updates! I'm working on a few longer multichapter dc/mcu fics for my other account @nightinthemarsh. Also not a huge fan of this fic tbh

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ

James' alarm is nearly silent due to his fear of waking the other two sleepers in the room. Or at least the other two people that should be asleep. 

James went to bed close to eight the night before, the earliest sleeper in the relationship, due to both being a professional quidditch player and waking up at five in the morning. Sitting up and putting on his glasses, it's painfully clear he's alone in the room, bed cold and plushies abandoned on the bed next to him. 

The skin between James’ brows crease in concern, slipping pajama pants and his pair of slippers by the left nightstand. Walking out of the bedroom, he notes that most of the lights are off, save for the light that emanates from the living room. 

James is nearly quiet as he enters the living room, standing at the bottom of the staircase, but the sight he sees warms his heart. While also causing some worry. 

Both you and Regulus are in nearly the exact same spots you were in when James went up to bed, save for the cat that now sits in your lap. A warm glow from two of the lamps allows the two of you to view the puzzle you started the day prior. 

The worry in James’ brows never leaves as he walks closer, putting effort into not startling the two of you. 

“I thought you guys said you’d be in bed by midnight?” Despite his efforts, both you and Regulus still startle just a bit as you both quickly turn to look at him. 

“We were hoping to finish the puzzle.” Regulus tells your shared boyfriend, as if that's the only logical thing to do. 

“And we almost have!” James takes his first good look at the puzzle (apart from when he saw it eight hours ago). It was a rather ambitious one, a little over three thousand pieces, but by now it looks close to completion. 

“But you really should have headed to bed hours ago.” he crouches down next to the coffee table you both are sitting at to be on your level. 

“After we finish the puzzle, right, amour?” 

“Of course.” 

James looks between the two of you as you return to the puzzle. Part of James feels rather greedy at the moment. Most times when he wakes up, both of you are dead to the world in your shared bed, so he doesn’t see his partners until mid-afternoon or whenever his practice ends.

But, he also knows that the two of you likely don’t get enough sleep as it is, and sometimes that truly concerns him. 

“What if we all head back to bed, I can wake back up in an hour or two, and later we can all work on it together.” James’ smile is undeniably warm and his hair is so bloody beautiful all tousled and frizzy, and he's shirtless, and it's so hot and both you and Regulus are extremely weak for this man. 

The look you and him share also shows that you both know James could never sit through this puzzle. But the idea of sleeping does sound rather nice. 

“Are you sure you are okay with waking up later?” you ask the question both you and Regulus are undoubtedly worried about. Not wanting to impose on James due to your own reckless sleeping habits. 

James is slightly distracted as he pets the cat on your lap, the tortoiseshell you lot had decided to get a few weeks ago. “Yeah, it’s fine; it's not a super busy day anyway.” 

Sometimes, when he looks up at you, it starts to make sense that his animagus is a stage, because he has the most stunning brown eyes. 

Half an hour later the puzzle lay abandoned on the coffee table, cat now laying at the end of the bed, with James two lovers passed out in bed. Even if this isn’t the way his usual mornings go, James couldn’t be happier this morning. 

[saltymarshmall0w]

So, Pre-robin Tim definitely wrote self-insert fanfiction about being Robin.

Like, a full story 400k plot starting with Jason graduating from being Robin and onto something bigger and better to the next Robin's journey, which ends up being modeled after Tim's life.

At first, some of Tim's most compelling plots are ripped straight from real missions, mostly using info the public doesn't know about.

Then, after YEARS of constantly updating this fic and being known as THE Batman Fanfic due to it's length and constant uploads, Tim is in the middle of writing a new chapter and just. stops.

"What am I even doing?"

Because at this point he's been Robin for almost a year and he's still fantasizing about being a part of a family he is already a part of.

(is he though? It's been a year and they barely acknowledge each other out of the suit, and at the end of the day he still goes home to an empty mansion)

EVEN BETTER

Five years later, one of the bats dredges the fic up from the deep dark corners of the web.

The others endlessly tease Tim for his writing as a 9-13 year-old

(they keep reading and discover between the analytical jargon and awkward dialogue a lot of worrying details that give a better peak into the traumas of his childhood. The littlest of scenes explains why Tim treats himself the way he does.)

Jason, despite initially being one of the biggest teasers, unironically loves it because little Tim's portrayal of the second Robin grew up to be eerily similar to how Jason is now. He would never say it to Tim's face, but despite (or maybe because of) being a literary nerd, he reads every chapter up until it was abandoned.

The B plot of this all is, of course, Bruce finds the fic and thinks TIM is the one with a stalker and gets really concerned about the data released in the fic.

[indecisive-capricorn]

Small Headcanons to Miguel O'Hara After Pregnant Wife Reader Gives Birth:

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I miss reading and writing Miguel O'Hara fics so muchhhhh!! But yeah, my schedule lately has been so hectic and busy, I wasn't even sure if I would be able to finish this in time for the 2nd of June. I will probably just post shorter contents instead of my usual ones.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Have some wine before you leave, or suggest a good brand to me. any form of messages are a delight.

First and foremost, Miguel is in absolute awe when baby Benjamin entered the world. He feels a sense of pride and protectiveness bloom in his chest over the little infant. And when Miguel held him for the first time- oh, he was so close to crying right then and there. Miguel could never understand how people could love within a few seconds of meeting them, but he was immediately proven wrong by his tiny son who was quick to steal a spot in his heart.

Miguel is constantly raining you with love and affection after you had given birth. He couldn't think of how he could ever repay you, the love of his life, from bringing your baby into this world, and he is forever grateful for the second chance you had given him, especially since the journey before is a hard one too.

However, if you think for a second that Miguel will leave your side for missions, then you're sorely mistaken. Miguel has a duty being the head of Spider Society, but he also has a duty as a husband and father. Also, there is in no hells way Miguel is letting you or Benjamin out of his sight while you're both at your most vulnerable states. He specifically restricted Lyla to not give him any assignments throughout the next month after your birth, only telling her to give him occasional updates and to assign his missions to either Jessica or Peter.

You know those husbands who does all the work after their wife has given birth? Like, literally everything and anything their heart wishes? Yeah, that's literally Miguel. He's the one constantly taking care of you and Benjamin all the time, from changing his diapers to making sure to order your favourite food, especially the ones you weren't allowed to eat during your pregnancy. Miguel is very active, always using every one of his minutes doing something, and he enjoys it.

MIguel sometimes fear that he might have neglected you during your pregnancy, which wasn't the case, but he felt as if he could have spent more time taking care of you. That's probably why he enjoys spending each moment with you and Benjamin after taking the two of you home. Time was very precious to him and Miguel had learnt to cherish it after years of experience. It could be an ordinary day with a slightly fussy Benjamin and a moody you, but he would still embrace it with open arms and love the time spent together.

Miguel has always been protective of you and Benjamin, there's no doubt on that, but there is this deep fear in his heart that something might happen to Benjamin the same way something had happened to Gabriella. Due to it, he has a very hard time falling asleep most nights, often choosing to not sleep at all and would use the excuse that he was merely tending to Benjamin. You knew the truth, of course, and you had a long talk with your husband about it, assuring him that nothing will happen to Benjamin and managed to get him to sleep for a few hours.

That is until Benjamin woke the two of you up with his cries of hunger.

[mysaintkitten]

more free use/dumbification for tommy and robert please i beg!! ur so talented!

thank you so much !! and although this request asked for free use or dumbification, it’s mostly the latter. will definitely be writing more free use fics though !!

Nocturnal | Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

prompt: a late night run in with Tommy (lol)

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), sort of mean tommy, unprotected sex, dumbification

Ada Shelby had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember. Everything you’d been through, good and bad, was made manageable with her by your side. The only thing you couldn’t stand was her brother, Tommy. Just the thought of him alone made you want to roll your eyes.

He was arrogant, stubborn, dominant, and worst of all: devilishly attractive. It drove you mad. How could such a gorgeous face be attached to such a vile man?

You’d even bicker occasionally over the smallest things before Ada would come between you and act as a mediator, because of course neither of you could push your pride down long enough to just end the conversation.

But, due to life simply being unpredictable, you had to distance yourself from Ada for about a year. You still stayed in touch, weekly letters updating each other about your lives and new experiences, but life had just become too hectic to make genuine plans.

Luckily though, things began to mellow out and eventually you and Ada were able to make plans to have a sleepover- just like old times.

The two of you spent the late night and early a.m’s chatting and giggling like school girls, until you noticed Ada’s faint snoring as you told a long elaborate story about a horrific professor you had to deal with. With that, you realized the night had come to a close.

Before you followed her in drifting to sleep, you decided to get a drink of water before bed. Tiredly, you left her bedroom and trudged towards the dimly lit room. As you stepped into the kitchen and reached for a glass from the cupboard, you quickly realized you weren’t alone.

“(Y/N)?” You hear a familiar male voice mutter from behind you, causing you to jump and nearly drop the glass out of your hand from being startled. You swiftly turn around on your feet, only to see Tommy sitting there. Of course he’s around the moment Ada’s asleep.

As he sees your face he chuckles and brings a cigarette up to his lips, “didn’t mean to scare you, love.”

“A bit late for that …” you mumble back while trying to relax your racing heart, “why are you up so late?”

Tommy raises his eyebrows and smirks before answering, “I could ask you the same question.”

“Me and Ada were talking, I wanted some water before bed,” you answer as you fill your glass up, “and you?”

“What were you two girls gabbing about? Makeup? Boys?” Tommy replies while ignoring the question you’d asked him, you shake your head and sigh. Tommy knows where your aspirations lie, he’s just trying to push your buttons.

“I don’t exactly have time for a boys right now, my focus is on university,” you clarify before taking a sip of water.

Tommy chuckles condescendingly as he hears you mention ‘university’, earning a confused glare from you as you take a step closer towards Tommy’s seat at the kitchen table.

“What’s funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” Tommy assured unconvincingly between inhales, “I just don’t think university is the best way for a young woman to spend her time.”

Your face contorts into visual disdain, it’s times like this where you wonder if he’s being obnoxious just to piss you off or if he’s truly just this annoying, “and where exactly do you think a young woman should be spending her time?”

“Women are happiest when they’re kept in their place,” Tommy explained flatly as he takes a drag of his cigarette, “doing housework in the day, and in bed taking her husband’s cock at night.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at his ignorant and blatantly misogynistic remarks, what kind of women has Tommy been around for him to genuinely believe this?

“I’m not sure what kind of ladies you’ve been seeing, Tommy, but most women I know have dreams, ambitions, goals,” you retort as you take another step closer towards Tommy with a foreign sense of confidence, “and they desire much more in life than being just some man’s personal come dump.”

He chuckles while putting out his cigarette, proceeding to stand to his feet and slowly make his way over to you,

“Thats what you all think,” Tommy states lowly as he walks closer and closer, “that you’re special and different, but really, you’re all the same. Once you get fucked so good you’re seeing stars, all those little dreams go out the window.”

You step backwards ploddingly as your cheeks burn, not knowing how to respond to Tommy’s crude comment. Suddenly, his face is mere inches away from yours.

“And judging by your little proclamation,” Tommy’s gaze drifts to your soft lips before locking eyes with you again, “you haven’t experienced that, love.”

You couldn’t define what you were feeling, frustration? Exhaustion? Arousal? Your body buzzed with inscrutable energy, and the rational part of your brain attempted to take over and de escalate the situation.

“I-I should just go to bed, Tommy …” you whine weakly as your eyes nervously dart around, suddenly finding Tommy’s stare and demeanour incredibly overwhelming. His dominance mixed with the masculine scent of whisky and tobacco made your heart flutter.

“Why don’t you just see what it’s like, hm?” Tommy purrs as he places his hands on your hips, you suck in a quick surprised breath- but you don’t push him away, “to get fucked so good you forget your own name …”

You didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the fact that it had been so long since you’d been properly touched, or because part of you had some sort of attraction toward Tommy, but you found yourself wanting more.

Tommy notices your hesitance and tries to warm you up the best way he knows how by placing gentle kisses on your neck, causing your mouth to drop open with a small gasp. He smirks when you react exactly how he was expecting you to. As he continues to kiss, his left hand snakes down your back and grips your ass.

“What if Ada hears …” you whine back, feeling pitiful at how easily you gave into his advances. Tommy hums against your neck before pulling his head out and easing his hand up to the small of your back.

“She’s a heavy sleeper, we’ll be fine,” Tommy breathed as he feels his straining cock twitch in his pants. With his hands on your hips, he turns you around so your back is flush against the front of his body.

“Hold on to the counter,” Tommy coos into your ear as he grabs your wrist with his strong hands and placed them onto the counter in front of you, “and keep your mouth shut.”

You anxiously grip the counter, involuntarily noticing your equally high levels of lust and consternation. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth when you feel Tommy’s hands begin to bunch up the back of your dress, appreciating the view of your ass with a low grunt. With his free hand, he hooks his finger into your panties and tugs them to the side, uncovering your holes for him.

Using the same hand, he runs his middle and ring finger between your folds while you already start to struggle staying quiet, he chuckles breathily as he feels your arousal spill onto his fingers.

“Do you always get this wet when men force themselves onto you?” Tommy groans as his fingers slide up towards your clit, rubbing small circles onto the sensitive nub from behind. Instead of answering, you can only moan for him while your core burns hotter with desire.

“Poor girl, so eager for cock she can’t even talk,”

With his hips pressed against your ass, he hastily yanks his pants down to free his member, it’s heat laying tantalizingly against your cheek. He grasps the base of his length and aligns it with your opening, forcing himself inside with one abrupt thrust.

You yelp unexpectedly at the fullness before biting your lip again, mumbling a few apologies as Tommy keeps his cock deep inside you before pulling out and slamming back into you.

With each thrust, the ability to stay quiet is growing more difficult. You continue to bite your lip so hard it may draw blood, but breathy whimpers still get punched out despite your best efforts.

“O-oh, fuck-“ you moan as you feel Tommy’s balls brush against your clit with every pump, taunting you with potential friction against your most intimate area.

Tommy changes his angle and slams into your spot head on with seasoned accuracy- clearly his various encounters with women have paid off.

“A-ah!” You sob loudly while your legs shake beneath you, nearly giving out if you weren’t currently white knuckling the countertop. Tommy groans against your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your spine.

“Quiet down, love,” Tommy growls into your ear as he clasps his hand over your mouth, his thrusts becoming deeper and more precise, “we wouldn’t want Ada hearing you.”

With a heavy hand silencing you, Tommy makes his thrusts harsher, almost painfully smashing into your cervix. He mumbles a few praises about how wet you are and how good you feel, your body buzzing from the approbation.

In the midst of ruining you, his hand slips away from your mouth and your needy whimpers can be heard along with Tommy’s heavy breaths. Not loud enough to disrupt Ada, but loud enough to be heard by anyone who could pass by the kitchen. The adrenaline and eroticism causes that intoxicating pressure to begin to build up inside you.

“What would she think, huh?” Tommy teases with a low groan, “seeing her astute friend become a filthy little dumb whore all for her big brother …”

“F-fuck-“ you cry out breathlessly as your sopping cunt flutters around his length, “‘s huge-“

Tommy laughs thinly while slamming into you, “too big for you, sweetheart? Can you feel it stretching out your cunt?”

“Y-yes, fuck-k!”

“(Y/N)?” Ada calls out tiredly from her room, “are you okay?”

Tommy halts his movements inside you, his tip pressing firmly against your spot. You let out a shaky pant before turning around slightly to peak at Tommy. He stares back at you with a cocked brow, silently commanding you to respond to her.

“I’m f-fine, sorry, just bumped my h-hip …” you stammer weakly, barely being able to think of an explanation let alone form a proper sentence while Tommy’s cock is still splitting you open.

Ada’s too tired to pry further, so she just takes you word for it. Once he knows the coast is clear, he slowly builds his thrusts up to that same deep, harsh pace.

“Only thing I told you to do was stay quiet, and you couldn’t even fuckin’ do that, have I fucked you stupid already?” Tommy scolds angrily as he locks a hand into your hair and yanks your head back towards him, the sting of the pull only pushing you closer to your orgasm.

“Uh-huh,” you mewl, the humiliation makes your cunt clench and weep around him greedily, your toes curling as your back arches against him.

“Maybe we should spend more time together, hm?” Tommy decides as he nips your earlobe from behind, licking the shell of your ear soon after, “you get to bitch and moan about how ambitious women are, and then I get to watch you go brainless on my cock. How’s that sound?”

You nod and whimper even though you’re ironically barely processing what he’s saying. Tommy can tell how wrecked you’ve become, and he doesn’t hesitate to relish in it.

“You were much too pretty for a career, anyway,” Tommy insisted as he felt his own orgasm begin to coil up inside him while his grasp on your scalp tightens, “the way your cunts gripping me right now … I think you were crafted for this, love …”

Your senses are overloaded with pleasure and you’re convinced you’ve never been fucked this good before. Sadly, just as Tommy expected.

“C-close,” you stutter as you feel yourself begin to tip over the edge while squeezing your eyes shut tightly. Tommy chuckles and continues the same pace, sneaking one of his hands to the front of your body and placing the pads of his fingers directly onto your clit. Not rubbing, just leaving his digits there with firm warm pressure.

“That’s it, don’t think. Just drench my cock, baby,” Tommy growls as he feels your channel flutter around him. And with a few more pumps, you’re coming around his length. You nearly shout out before Tommy covered your mouth again, not wanting to give Ada a reason to get up and check what was going on herself.

After seeing and feeling your orgasm take over you, Tommy feels the pressure within him begin to burst. And just at the last second, Tommy slides his length out and shoots ropes onto you ass, making sure to not get any on your dress. He can be a gentleman, sometimes.

Once you’ve both ridden out your highs, only then does Tommy release his grip on your hair, both of your bodies achy and sweaty with exertion. He backs himself up and tucks his softening cock back into his pants.

Shakily, you turn around to face him, earning a genuine smile from him as he sees your post-orgasm fucked out expression. Cheeks flushed and eyes still glossy, he could get used to seeing this.

“How about we have another talk in the morning?” Tommy asks in a tone that you can’t exactly read, but judging by his expression and body language- you believe he’s being authentic. And you couldn’t lie, the thought of another ‘talk’ with Tommy is dangerously tempting.

—

I hope I did this justice <\3 as much as I love dumbification I feel like I can’t write it properly :( I’m going to keep trying !! because if I’m anything it’s persistent lmao

[lqveharrington]

Behind the Scenes | V.

summary: Being Vox’s girlfriend requires some patience after twelve hour work days.

pairing: Vox x fem!reader

includes: Vox and Velvette bullying one another, VALENTINO BEING A MENACE, mentions of Angel’s job, drinking, fluff, yelling, Vox being a baby, cursing, implications of being a prostitute, suggestiveness, both of them being teases (that’s it, let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i think writing hazbin fics is my stress outlet 😭

You were Vox’s. And Vox was yours. Every demon and sinner in Pride Ring knew due to Vox taking time out of his busy work day to shower you with compliments in every press interview or host show when you were brought up. Especially when Vox would be the first one to find you after you finished modeling for Velvette’s show, making sure the paparazzi had photos of him praising you with kisses and soft touches.

Of course, you reciprocated every moment… In the public eye. Behind the cameras and screens, Vox was very much loving. But he did work for almost twelve hours each day, which required patience from you whenever he came home to you in a sour mood.

“Do you need me for anything else, Vel?” You glance back at your phone as you pour red wine into your glass.

“No,” She scribbled down measurement adjustments for another model’s design, looking back up at her screen after hearing an electrical shock from your side of the phone. “But do tell your boy toy that you have a dress rehearsal early tomorrow morning, and that you have to be there on time.”

Vox wrapped his arm around your waist, glaring at the young overlord through your phone. “Fuck off, Velvette.”

You feel him resting his head against your shoulder as he presses soft kisses on your neck, your dead heart fluttering. “I’ll be there on time.”

“Good.” She rolled her eyes at your boyfriend’s actions before ending the call.

“What’s your damage today, handsome?” You ask before sipping on your drink, red lipstick staining the clear glass. You watch as he mutters something incoherent, static emitting from his hat. “Vox, talk to me.”

“That bitch Carmilla won’t meet up, and it’s been several days since our last update on Vox technology.” He sighs as he moves around you, his voice crackling with electricity. “Shareholders have been up my fucking ass all morning about it— Valentino keeps trying to get me to watch his stupid porn feels featuring Angel.”

He removes his suit jacket as he complains, walking toward the large living space including a minibar. Vox pulls at his tie and reaches for the whiskey underneath, “Now Velvette wants to be an ass and complain about me wanting to spend time with you—“

“My love,” You hand him a glass from the cabinets, letting your hand linger on his for a bit. “Vel’s my boss, and I’m her best model. She needs me for these rehearsals.”

“You’re really taking her side?” He tilts back his head and downs the drink in one go, pouring another.

You roll your eyes at his childish behavior, “I’m not taking sides, I’m pointing out a fact.” You sit on the stool by the bar, letting him slot himself between your legs. “If anything, I’m listening to you describing your day.”

“Mm.” He let one hand come down and rest on your hip, rubbing soft circles. “Tell me about your day.”

“Boring, tiring. Pretty much the same every day.” You grab his wrist to ensure he doesn’t go any lower or any higher. “According to your assistant, I do have a lot of things planned tomorrow. So that should be exhausting.”

Vox linked your hands together, “Sounds stressful.”

“Not as bad as yours every day.” You press a kiss on his palm. “I was gonna watch a movie while waiting for you, but now that you’re here—“ You shift your wine glass in your hand as he puts his own glass down, letting him trail his hands to your waist. “Want to join me?”

“Of course.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before trailing after you. “What movie are we watching?”

“Whatever the first thing I find.” You let Vox sit on the couch before doing the same, swinging your legs over his lap. “You need a new rotation on Voxflix, I’ve watched almost everything.”

“I’ll get on that.” He mumbled as he ran his hand up and down your leg, occasionally squeezing.

You hum and shift your gaze to the television, scrolling through the different movies. “How do we feel about—“

A ringtone filled the air, both of you freezing at the noise.

“Vox—“

“Give me a second.” He let you pull your legs away and pulled the ringing from his screen to his phone, camera-ready voice leaving his mouth.

You sigh but find a movie worth watching, pulling your knees up. Around halfway through, you decided that the movie was meretricious, heavily judging the poorly made movie more than the other ones you’ve watched. You typed your review on your phone, giving the movie two stars before—

“—THEN GET SOME LOW LIFE SINNER TO DO YOUR FUCKING JOB FOR YOU!” You heard Vox scream from the kitchen, making you wince for the poor soul on the other end. “AND IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE SHIT I GIVE YOU, JUST KNOW I HAVE YOUR FUCKING SOUL IN CONTRACT!”

You pause the movie and get up, taking slow steps to your hotheaded boyfriend. He shuffled across the kitchen, walking back and forth as his fans kicked on. His white shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves were rolled up like he was going to commit a crime.

“YOU LITTLE PIECE OF—“

“Vox,” You come up from behind and wrap your arms around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s outside of your work hours.”

“Fucking—“ He rubbed his temple as he heard the sinner go silent on the other line. Vox took one hand and laced it with yours, “You’re lucky my wife is generous you ungrateful fuck.” He ended the call before muttering more curses, turning you in his arms so you were facing his front.

You let your hands move up to his shoulders, massaging the heavy tension in them. “Am I your wife now? Is that what you’ve been telling those sinners?”

“Maybe.” He let out a loud groan from the sensation, fans still running. “The fucking bitch in accounting is—“

“You’re not working right now, stop.” You give him a pointed look. “I need you to relax.”

Vox wrapped his arms around your waist, walking you backward toward the living area once more. “God, I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too.” You chuckle as he peppers kisses on your face. You let out a noise of surprise when he pulls you into his lap, hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Vox!”

“Yes?” He pressed kisses to your exposed collarbone.

You sigh in content but grab the corners of his screen, giving him a cheeky grin. “Tomorrow, my love. Velvette will murder the both of us if I show up late with bruises.”

“I’ll pay her to let you have a day off tomorrow.” He slipped his hand up your shirt, sharp claws bringing chills to your skin.

“So now you’re paying to be with me?” You raise a brow, stifling a laugh when he stops all movements. “Am I some kind of—“

“Of course not! Do not finish that sentence.” He pushed you down on the couch, covering your mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You laugh at how protective he is over you from himself. “I know you didn’t mean it like that, I was kidding.”

Vox dropped his head down to your shoulder, “You’re such a tease.”

“I’m the best.” You squeeze his bicep. “But seriously, Vel will have our heads strung outside the tower.”

“Whatever.” He flipped you both over, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I’ll have you all to myself this weekend.”

You hum, pressing a kiss on the corner of his screen. “I’m sure you do, handsome.”

“My love, I will cancel all your plans this weekend if you tell me I can’t have you.” Vox traces his finger down your spine. “Don’t tell me you have any.”

“I don’t…” You turn your head as he runs his claws through your hair. You feel yourself warm as he wraps a blanket over the both of you, flicking the television to play with a snap of his fingers.

“What do we rate the movie today?” He played with the ends of your hair, face pulling a grimace at the movie’s corny script.

“Two stars.” You mumble as your gaze shifts to the television. As the television fades to black in an awkward transition, you see Vox staring at you rather than the screen. “What are you looking at, weirdo?”

“My beautiful girlfriend.” He squeezed your hip. “Who I love very much.”

You let a small laugh slip through your lips, grinning brightly at his words. “I love you very much too, weirdo.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[thewinchestah]

"Good things come for those who wait" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, spanking,degradation kink, praise kink, Angst with a happy ending, fluff, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: there's no point guys. I can't stop talking.

A/N: WOAH!! Hello everyone!! What the fuck?? I wasn't expecting my "debut fic" to blow up like that! Thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to read it and leave a comment! I'm truly flattered by your praise. So, I hope this sequel to "PREY" does it justice! (but it can also be read as a standalone). Let me know if you guys like it, and if you have anymore ideas/suggestions! I'm tagging everyone who asked me to, so if you want to be tagged on my next fics let me know! Without further due, here comes that mostrosity of a fic! Hope you like it &lt;3! (UPDATE: PART 3 IS NOW UP!!)

Part I  | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist: @smallershorteranduncut @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir  @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby 

It all started, as many things do, with a joke and a simple misunderstanding. Dying and instantly going to hell is not easy. Being in hell and not understanding why the FUCK you are in hell is confusing, frustrating and sometimes drawright ridiculous. There’s no guidebook for the hellish afterlife, and more often than not you felt lost at sea, drowning. Until you found your questionable lifeline, the Radio Demon. 

Somehow said demon clocked really early on that you were completely infatuated with him, but too scared to act on it. And oh, how he gave you enough reason to be infatuated, enough reason to be scared. Luring you into the most delicious trap, Alastor had claimed you as his. His to breed during the height of his heat, his to care for, his to inflict the most heavenly torture. 

Being caught up in the middle of the living myth that was the Radio Demon was a dangerous thing, you had been warned over and over again. So of course that you had to almost fuck everything up in the silliest way possible.

The obnoxious TV set, also known as Vox, had just started another round of his futile attempts to win Alastor’s attention by airing the most absurd reality tv character assassination ever. You would put money on the fact that the obsessive flat screen was a deceased TLC producer. Usually, any of his pompous i-hate-alastor-so-so-much!!! fits would be met with enthusiasm around the Hotel. Everyone would cramp in front of the TV and make fun of the entire ordeal. Even Alastor would tag along and make a private edition of his radio show while he counter-narrated that nonsense. It became a fun bonding activity for everyone involved, it was a nice thing. But there’s a reason why you can’t have nice things.

Today the Hotel was mostly empty:, only you, Angel and a very on edge, sexually frustrated, irritated Alastor haunted its posh walls. Still, you and Angel carried on with the little tradition sitting side by side in front of the tv not knowing what to expect from today’s “My Strange Addiction - Alastor’s Version” episode. It was truly a laughable attempt of a character assassination, actors who could not act saying things like “Alastor isn’t even as bad as everyone says, his torture tactics are not that special either. My mom’s aunt was tortured by him and was going to work 10 hours later”, “i walked down the street today and alastor didn’t even try to kill me when he saw me crossing the street, he’s all talk” “i have video footage of the self-proclaimed cannibal eating a chocolate covered strawberry. He’s cannibalbaiting.”

“no self-respecting overlord would go out wearing those ridiculous out-of fashion clothes”. 

Angel was having the time of his life leading the daily Vox roast session, the spider was funny and you couldn’t hold the laughs. The camera cut to a close-up of Vox, babbling on about technology and the anti-Radio Demon speech you knew by heart at this point. As if on cue, Alastor entered the room. But the pair of you remained oblivious to his presence. 

“Toots, you totally should apply for this show! I mean it!. I’m sure Vox will buy literally anything you say. Anything! If you say Alastor likes to eat red nail polish cause it looks like blood he would believe it! You laughed at his words, what a ridiculous thing to say. You loved red nail polish, alastor drinking it because it looks like blood is absurd. “I mean, look at you!! Look at this face, these eyes!! This body!!!” Angel gave your thighs a playful slap. “If you say hell is actually cold using all that i would eat it right up. Vox will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice you dropping that even the oldest radio looks better than that fucking flat face”. The thought that you were the mind-numbing type of beautiful made you laugh. Sometimes you felt like your friends were being way too kind with the flattery about you. You were nothing special at all. It was nice of them to be kind to you, adapting to your new lifestyle was taking a visible tool, anyone could tell. Their efforts were honorable and sweet, but you just couldn’t let yourself believe what in your heart, you knew was a lie. A beautiful, comfortable lie, but still a lie. You weren’t much, you were just lucky. You started to laugh even harder, out of pure nervousness as your brain started to snowball into all the things you weren’t. 

“ Seriously Angel, you have the strangest ideas ever!” you tried to sound normal, putting up a confident facade. That helped, a lot. You had picked that up during your days with Alastor. 

Speaking of the devil, Alastor wasn’t amused by your little display. Standing on the corner of the room as you laughed, he made himself known by walking out of the room, in hurried steps. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t think much of it. But you weren’t anyone else. You were Alastor’s. 

And that’s why he was seething with rage. His rut always drove him, an already unpredictable man, to the brink of true, pure instinctual insanity. He had to grip his marvelous constructed self control painfully hard. Since your paths crossed, the most chaotic part of his existence seemed in control, your pretty little body always ready to take him, your eyes always holding his gaze in a maddening  comfortable way, the way you would push your limits just for him. 

Only for him.

And the worst part was your softness when it was all done. Alastor would fuck you rentless, for hours, making you take all the mess of his most animalistic desires without a second thought. Both of you would be spent, bathing in the afterglow, room smelling like sex, and you would ask him if he needed anything. Him, that just fucked you so hard so won’t walk straight for a week, that feasted on the blood of the love bites he inflicted, him that covered you in a painting of bruises. 

How could he not want to just lock you inside his lavish room and give you all the rings of hell? to carve his name deep into your soul? to dote on you? to make him the only thing on your mind as he makes you his time and time again in the most sinful ways?

It was simple really, why he was shaking with anger: how you, who was his, was even thinking of being in the same vicinity of that scum of creation?  LAUGHING AT THIS ABSURD CONCEPT. Vox thinking of you was already a crime punishable by painful death, but Vox looking at you was heresy, and the entirety of hell would pay for his transgressions. 

As Alastor stormed off towards the Hotel’s large room corridors, he took several calming breaths. Losing control like this wouldn’t do anyone any favors. In the troubled waters of his mind, Alastor could only think of 3 things: you, fucking you and murdering someone.

 So he didn’t even realize your hurried steps trying to catch up with his long strides.

“Hey sugartits! Don’t take too long doing whatever you need to do! there’s a woman going live after the break saying she saw Alastor eating an entire packet of PAPER TOWELS!!! HAHA! This shit is too good to be true!” you heard angel scream.

Adding insult to injury, nice.

Trying desperately to reach your demon lover gait, you could only think about how bad you had messed up. Alastor was your only true respite in hell. He was a blessing in a mist of the worst humankind could offer. He made you feel hope, more than making you feel alive, he made you feel glad you’re dead. The Radio Demon felt like coming home. You just wanted to make it up to him. You could not lose this, lose him. You were not sure you would survive it. And who knew where you went after dying in hell? 

It doesn’t matter where you go after hell, it doesn’t matter at all if Alastor is not there. Your brain added to your inner monologue. True.

“Alastor! Wait” you shouted. He stops dead on his feet.

Finally, those long long legs of his do not make chasing after your love any easier.

“Alastor, I'm so so sorry. Angel gets way out of line sometimes and I was nervous” he is perfectly still, ears pinned back, listening. But doesn’t say anything back.

“Al I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, at all. Look, let’s try to do something to make your day better. I know how hard this season is on you, I know you feel like you are losing contr-

Uh oh.

oh shit.

You used the two forbidden words together. The temperature in the room drops, Alastor snaps towards you. You feel something gripping your throat mercilessly, as you fall to the ground. Looking at the other end of the corridor Alastor has you on a leash of his magic. Eyes burning red, forehead marked “x” he grips your chains hard, pushing you towards him.

“That was a brilliant speech, little doe. Truly marvelous! I’m sure your television debut will be quite the show you were planning!”

His antlers were growing, his demon form showing itself as he becomes taller and taller over you. All bared teeth and flashing red eyes. This is what everyone warned you about. Don’t get in the Radio Demon’s way, he is dangerous and insane. You will regret it.

Hot. your brain thinks. He pulls your leash even tighter, and you feel wetness pooling on your core.

“Do you have any idea what I was about to do before I heard you so selflessly offer your services to that pathetic excuse of a demon?” Dragging you by the magic chains, his towering frame comes down to meet you at eye level. You can’t say anything back, your brain short circuits and goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“You know better than leaving me waiting for an answer at this point, pet” He grips your face using his sharp claws,the pressure threatening to break skin. “But you seem so hellbent on being a bad girl today, I shouldn’t expect your usually good girl’s behavior, should I?”

You are, once again nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes

“One should always know better than expecting their fantasies to be true”

His sclera goes black, only the tiny blazing red radio dials devouring you as he stares so deep into you, you feel feverish. 

“But since we are already here. I. Will. Tell. You.” static picks up around the room and surrounds you both, the corridor is illuminated by an eerie green light. You start to kinda fear for your life, but Alastor has you completely hypnotized by the radio dials on his eyes. You shiver in anticipation. 

 “I was coming to ask you, to please, spare me a part of your day, away from you friends. Because the only thing on my mind has been you. Fucking you. Sinking my cock so deep into your tight, wet cunt it would mark your soul. Because you are the only one who can take me like this, who deserves being bred by me, who deserves every drop of my seed”

You feel the wetness on your panties grow until it runs down your thighs. There’s nothing right about this, but your dear Alastor showed you long ago how the concepts of right and wrong are meant to be skewed.

“But oh well, you seem to have your affections directed elsewhere…” he tsks at you using that delicious mocking tone. “But, you can’t blame a desperate man for trying” he goes from 100 to 0 really fast, his voice softens so much in a way that’s almost too heavy to hear after all that. Even with his demon form still very much present  “Do you still want to make my day better, pet?”

you are at a loss of words, but you manage to nod desperately. The anticipation of what he is going to do to you makes you giddy. 

He manhandles your leash until you are on your knees in front of him, tugging on the chains so you look up towards his crotch. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out. Hard, angry hot red coloured. Angry because of you, angry for you. 

“Open wide, little one” and without much more warning, Alastor is fucking your face, hard and fast. 

You position your arms behind your back as quickly as you can.  You know how hard it is for him to be touched when his rut is peaking. The overwhelming need for relief mixing with his ever present desire for control. This is about him asserting his dominance over you, making sure you don’t ever forget where you belong: In the warmth of his burning gaze, under him, on your knees, while he merciless fucks your throat into compliance. He’s taking it out on you, and you fucking love it.

He’s not saying anything, only growling like he’s about to murder someone. He grabs fistfuls of your velvety hair, but never leaves the white knuckle grip on your chains. You can only resist the urge of playing with your pussy while he thrusts so deep you feel his monster cock. hitting the back of your throat. This is about him, and you want to give him this so badly your cunt is throbbing with desire

Tears wet your cheeks, your lips around his cock are the definition of renaissance art to Alastor. He’s almost over the edge now, the head of his cock twitches on top of your tongue as a warning of his approaching orgasm. It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s fast and it’s angry.

Alastor cums, you swallow as much as you can, but he takes his cock out and spills everywhere, coating your hair,  your face. It’s so deliciously erotic Alastor can’t resist catching some of his cum and running his hands throughout your velvet locks, bathing you in his essence, marking you once more. There’s still a bit of cum on the tip of his claw, he feeds it to you, and your lips wrap around his fingers as you take as much of him you can take, gladly. 

“Oh how beautiful you are when you ruin yourself like this for me, my little doe” You look up at him with adoration and a lustful gaze, his eyes hold an equally lustful gaze and… something more. Something that you are sure will drive you insane. 

Alastor notices the pooling mess underneath your tights, he knows how desperate you are for relief, but he still wants to self indulge on you. He’s certain you still don’t understand the reality of what he is feeling. Swiftly he topples you down the corridor’s carpet and places himself between your legs, his crawled finger tearing your lacy panties away. 

Then, he feasts on you like a starving man, and he might be, because you taste like the ambrosia of the gods and he can’t get enough of it. Of how you make a mess of yourself for him and there’s still something for him to take. You just taste so sweet, what a perfect meal your nectar makes. His wicked silver tongue polishes you, aided by your whispered sighs, his name moaned like a prayer on your lips. You are so so close, alastor sucks on your throbbing clit you are already seeing stars, all you need is a gentle push.

 Grinning like a devil, Alastor looks up, tilts his head, gives you the most wicked-and-douchey look in existence. He gets up, your leash dissipating into the air and walks away in perfect composure, like nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Well, I think that’s my cue!!” he says in his usually chirpy tone. You just stay there, flabbergasted. “I just remembered I still have a lot to do today! Work never stops when you maintain a facility like this in tip-top condition!” Already halfway across the corridor, Alastor’s head turns towards you “Still want to make my day good my dear? Be a doll and clean this mess up, will you?” you just stare at him, too fucking stunned to speak. You can’t believe it. That fucking devil. He’s about to make the turn towards the elevator and disappear when his eyes flash red as he warns you “Oh! and don’t you dare make yourself cum without my permission. If you cum before I say so, you won’t be cumming for a week. Choose wisely!Let’s see who loses control first Ha Ha! This will be fun!”

 Alastor can be a psychopathic demon in heat, but before all that he still is a psychopathic demon who loves torture. 

And he just left you all hot and bothered. 

–

Alastor knew better than believing in such things as heaven or holiness. In fact, Alastor was positively sure nothing was sacred. The concept of sacredness was non-existent in his book.

But his skeptic mind danced on the edge of belief when he touched you. To be inside you felt heavenly, heavenly in a type of way that should not even be allowed in this place. The way your lush body burned underneath his wicked gaze was sacred.The way you always presented yourself to him, with selfless abandon was sacred. Somehow, someone allowed him, of all people, access to a soul he frankly didn’t understand what was doing in hell in the first place. He never was the better man. He was never giving that up.

In all of his nature, Alastor felt the most sinful pleasure in defiling your sacredness. He wanted nothing but to take the heavenly thing you were and taint it with his darkness. 

He was well acquainted to torture and had no shame in inflicting the most delicious and depraved type of it on you ,until all of your holiness was irrevocably marked by him, down to the core of your soul.  Of course Alastor didn’t buy your soul. He didn’t need to use those means to completely own you. He did it effortlessly, because you craved it. Because he craved it.

That’s why the thought of Vox even looking in your way was heretic, and not in a good way. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to Vox. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Period. You were his.

 But adding that man into the equation just made everything more intolerable. The things he would do if he found out about you… Found out that not only you were his but how you could make someone feel. How precious and undeserving of anything less than good you were… 

You were made to be cherished and protected. Protected by him.

 In fact, it took all of the Radio Demon’s willpower to restrain from walking to the Vees building, and kill Vox for something he didn’t do. Because Alastor wouldn’t allow the thought to even cross his mind. All that, a messy display of his desperation and loss of control. Giving that prick the smug satisfaction of knowing somehow he got to him, in his last moments. 

Damn, his rut truly did make him on edge.

Suppressing his murderous thoughts, Alastor focused his mind into something he as actually good at: torture. Yours specifically. He still wanted to punish you for making him feel like this. He still wanted to make you understand.

And he just thought of the sweetest way to do it.

-

After cleaning up the mess on the corridor, and yourself (you did it all on autopilot, still trying to understand what the FUCK happened) you still had to give Angel a satisfaction about why you didn’t come back. You must’ve looked really miserable cause Angel just hugged you really tight and ordered you to bed. When in reality all of your efforts were now focused on masking your humiliating arousal. So you find yourself lying in your bed, trying not to think anything Radio Demon related. You’re totally not thinking about the way he looked at you while he fucked you. The way his eyes would search yours in a crowded room, winking playfully at you. An inside joke. A promise.The way you both playfully banter at the dinner table over silly things. You are also totally not thinking about how he takes you, how you love to hear him saying “good girl” to you after you push your limits again, only for him. Not thinking at all about how his cock fills you so perfectly, you truly feel empty without it. Who’s thinking about what hides behind his eyes when he his voice goes all soft in the middle of a rough fucking? Ha ha!! Definitely not you. 

You punch yourself with your pillow. 

C’mon don’t think thoughts of Alastor now…

You are so fucked, and not in a sexy way. The worst part is that you want to endure it, you want to be good for him. Your pussy is aching to be touched, your mind begging you to have thoughts of Alastor while your pussy is being touched. But right now you would give everything in this world to hear him praise you again. You know how hard his rut is on him… He already carries a lot alone, the Hotel, the doomsday clock of extermination ticking closer and closer everyday. Plus the other things… You know there’s something more, something that haunts his nights, but it’s not your place to ask. Hell, you are too scared to ask. You just hope, you just pray that when it happens you are beside him. You don’t ever expect the Radio Demon to ever ask for help, or open up. Or seek comfort. Oh, he’s anything but comfortable. But you like to think that in time, he would feel comfortable enough around you he could let something slip, a tiny detail to add to your “The Mystery of the Radio Demon” clue board. Something that would let you show him he doesn’t need to pick himself apart, carry all these burdens alone.

Great, you are doing amazing at the “not thinking any Alastor thoughts” game. 

You hug your pillow closer and look across you window as you start saying out loud a list of things you need to do around the Hotel. Maybe this will take your mind off the devil.

Tend to the Venus Fly traps of the gardens. (You could ask Nifty for the bugs)

Write the thank you letters to the new guests that agreed to help with hotel chores.

Tell charlie about your book club idea using cool flashcards 

It’s your turn to organize “Theme nights”, maybe Alastor would enjoy a “great gatsby” theme, right?

Great, Alastor again. You sighed. 

Suddenly a red note written with perfect penmanship flies next to your spot on the bed.

“My darling doe, I’m waiting for you in my chambers.

Don’t take your time, we have much to discuss.-

Yours, Alastor.

You take your time, though, to thank anyone who’s listening as you sprint towards Alastor’s lavish room. You feel dizzy, anticipation like butterflies in your stomach. You don’t have to knock more than once for him to let you in. 

He’s on the edge of the bed, looking like his normal self (as normal as it gets for Alastor)

The taps the spot next to him on the the bed

“Come here, you darling thing!”

you don’t waste a second, and as quickly as you are sitting on his bed, you are sitting on lap. Holding you close, in a vice like grip with one of his arms, Alastor starts talking 

“How was the rest of your day, my dear?” you open your mouth to start talking, you have so much to say to him. That you were a good girl, that you were ready to do anything to make up for laughing at Angel’s stupid idea of seducing Vox. You are ready to beg for your release. to ask how his day was. But you don’t get to utter a word. 

Alastor quickly and swiftly maneuvers you: now your feet are dangling from the bed, your ass and  legs sprawled out across his lap. A powerful arm locking you to him by the small of your back.

Holy fuck.

“Well my day was downright awful! You see I overheard my pretty pet laughing at the prospect of seducing one of my most infuriating enemies. I’m in the peak of my unforgiving rut ,and all I wanted was the shared pleasure of our bodies as I fuck the darling thing senseless!” he pinches the back of your thigh, hard. You blur out a soft, desperate sigh. 

“Of course, the good girl she is, she went begging for my forgiveness. I didn’t fully give it, of course. That was a harsh offense, what my little doe did. But I did have my fill with her” You try to spea-

Alastor audibly shushes you.

“I did leave her all hot and bothered after spilling my cum all over her maddening little body, of course. I contenplated murdering the bastard demon so he wouldn’t get a chance of even knowing about her existence and what she does to me. But I still suffered with the hellish need of fucking her into oblivion, and pondered a lot about divine justice. So, if I had to suffer this entire day because of her offenses I think it’s only right for that darling doe to get her fill of suffering and punishment hmmmm?

 You try to look back to his face, but you feel the familiar sensation of magic wrapping around your throat. The leash, you are so so fucked. You couldn’t be happier about it.

He tugs at the chain, so your skirt rides up and your ass is totally bare for him and your head is buried in one of his fluffy pillows. With a snap of his fingers your panties disintegrate.

You shiver at the thought of what’s happening next, a delicious sensation that flows across your back and ends up inside your cunt, beginning to turn into a wet mess. He’s gonna spank you like the bad girl you were. He’s not going to be gentle about it either. You can’t wait. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, it will leave you bruised. It will be deliciously wicked, like all of Alastor’s punishments. 

You feel another surge of magic, behind the powerful green glow something materializes.

Your horsegirl days back on earth don’t let you down. You recognise it instantly. On his previous free hand he’s holding a riding crop. A big, leather pointed riding crop. 

He’s going to literally whip you into submission. You squirm inside his arm. You can’t fucking wait. You’ve made yourself come a few times after the thought of being literally tamed, broke by alastor. 

You whimper. Alastor’s laugh fills the room.

“So this is how this is going to go, pet. I’m going to whip you lovely ass like the ungrateful slut you are and you are going to thank me for it after every crack of the whip. I’m gonna do this as many times as I see fit. Until your ass is as red as my hair. Until you understand what you did. By the time I’m done you will be begging to be punished more. Are we clear?

You can’t look back at him, but you can feel how his red irises make your skin burn. You like to imagine that his eyes did the thing where they soften for a heartbeat, if you blink you miss it. Waiting for your permission, even now. You are able to muffle a “yes, oh please Alastor, yes”. 

“Lovely.” 

crack.

He didn’t even gave you time to process. The whip lands hard on the back of your left thigh. You let out a scream.

“Well?” he asks impatiently as he waits for your “thank you”. Seeing the way the spot where the whip landed turn a lovely shade of scarlet isn’t helping him hold his resolve either.

You wanna do this right, you need this as much as he needs it.

“thank-”

crack. the whip lands on your right thigh, a little lower.

“tha-” 

crack.crack.

 He whips you even harder, cutting the wind as it lands twice on your left buttcheek. Only four cracks down and you are a whimpering mess. You wiggle instinctively on his lap, seeking some friction, some relief. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. You don’t know if you can take more. You want it anyway. “thank you, thank you” you whimper. Tears wet your face, arousal wets your core adding to the mess from before he even started.

crack. crack.

 He mirrors his movements to your right buttcheek. “thank yo- Holy fuck Alastor”

one more hit, now hitting both of your buttcheks. 

“I’ve told you many times before pet, there’s nothing holy about what I do to you. I’m gonna break you and then breed you. I won’t give you a moment of respite. And maybe by the end, when your legs are shaking from holding that orgasm you have been desperately chasing since this afternoon, I will be merciful and let you find your release. And we will know who’s really losing control here”

How can he do this to you with only his voice? You are not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You’re so wet, you’re staining Alastor’s pants. As close as you will get to marking him.

There’s a draft coming from the forest of his room, it softly kisses your abused skin, making it sting. You want to see the state of your lower body so badly. The way you’re submitting to him right now, the most sweet form degradation possible. Your eyes are clouded with tears, that line between pain and pleasure being blurred in ways only someone like the Radio Demon could cross. He tugs on your leash, to attract your attention from the sinful, unholy sensations you are feeling so openly, back to him.

Alastor drags the leather point of the whip across your throbbing cunt, collecting the obscene amount of wetness there. “By the 7 rings of hell, what do you have here? Are you such a slut that you are creaming at being whipped into compliance? I could do this all night long. Your ass is already red with regret for your actions but I’m not sure you learned your lesson yet.”

crack. The whip this time lands on your juicy cunt. Your hips trash with the sensation, your demon lover’s name escaping your lips like a prayer.You forget to thank him this time, despite your best efforts. 

“Are you so big of an ungrateful brat that you want this sinful punishment to continue? Not even bothering to thank me, in hopes it will end sooner. You know what you are. Nothing but a hungry greedy whore for the Radio Demon” 

crack, crack. One hit on each cheek. “But I already knew that” and with that mocking tone Alastor lands a  masterful final hit on both of your cheeks. He does have a way of proving his point.

You are fucking sobbing now. Tears coat your cheeks, now a colour so vibrant as the rich scarlet the covers your ass. Alastor knows everything that makes you tick. He knows how close you are to cumming. Cumming for only his masterfully inflicted punishment and his voice. Incoherent whimpers leave your lips “please please please” and soft “ohh and aaah, alastor”

He tugs on your leash again, he knows your body like the palm of his hand, and that you are probably entering the mind numbing phase of the pain and the pleasure. But he still wants your undivided attention. He has whipped you into submission, he still needs to fuck you into submission. 

“And you even made the mess of yourself stain my pants! My god, you are pathetic. Delightfully pathetic” 

Alastor gently runs his clawed hands across your ass, the sharp edges making you hiss. He looks in adoration at the masterpiece he inflicted on you. Your ass and thighs a shade of scarlet to rival his hair, the wetness between your thighs a heavenly invitation. Beautiful. Sinful.  Sacred. He will never forget this, and he will make sure that you never forget it too.

“Now, now, we are done with this my little doe” his voice goes extra soft because you can’t see him with your face buried in a soft pillow. “you were so good for me, you always are” 

The softness and sweetness of his praise makes you sob even harder. It’s maddening. 

He gently maneuvers you further into the bed, making space for himself. 

“But now I’m painfully hard, and I still need to bury myself inside that tight throbbing cunt of yours, so deep it will mark. your. soul.” static picks up around you, a delicious omen of what is about to happen. 

Alastor positions himself behind you, immediately entering you and bottoming out. 

His first thrusts are sharp and deep, as to make his promise of marking yourself from the inside real. He pulls your chains so your scarlet ass is presenting itself to him like the most sinful gift. 

Alastor picks up that breakneck pace of fucking, common to him, specially during his rut. He fucks you like he hates you. As hard as he possibly can, to make you know that you are his and his only. That even thinking of someone else, even as a joke, will not be tolerated. You wanted all of him didn’t you? You’ve made that clear, with words, with actions, with the things your body endures for him. So he makes sure to give you that. 

Moans drip from your lips in a crescendo, you are screaming now, you don’t know how long you will last. It feels so good. That delayed gratification drowning you in maddening pleasure. 

“Who do you think is losing control here?” he asks after a painfully sharp thrust. “Me, or the mess of a slut underneath me? That is screaming my name loud enough for the entire pride ring to know how she loves being fucked like a common whore for the Radio Demon,hmm?” 

One hand pulls your leash upwards, the other your hips. He’s even deeper now, you can feel him in your core.

You don’t reply to the question even though you want to, even though you know the answer. 

“Again, since you like being bred like that so much you are not hearing me” he takes all of his cock out and enters you at once. “Who’s losing control here? Me, or my little plaything with the scarlet ass from being whipped into compliance like the pretty little brat she is?” 

You don’t forget to answer him now, you need to cum, desperately. You withheld your building orgasm  for an entire day, you wanted to be good for Alastor. You wanted to be able to take everything he gives you. The pleasure, the pain, the sinful, delicious depraved torture. “Me, I am!” you scream out. 

Alastor’s pace is becoming erratic, you feel the shadows of his growing antlers cover you.

“Again” he tugs at your collars. Another sharp, deep thrust. 

“Me, i’m losing control” 

“And what are you?” his voice is filled with static now, he’s close too.

“Yours! I’m yours Alastor, yours to fuck, to break, to punish” you cry out in sweet pain and pleasure. 

Another tug, Another painfully sharp thrust 

“I’m only yours Alastor” you finish. 

“Good. girl.” he spaces the words out between thrusts, knowing how you relish in them. 

“You can come now” 

Your orgasm comes crashing down. You grip the sheets like a maniac, your legs shaking so hard Alastor needs to hold them in place. You scream so loud you are sure they can hear you in heaven. You hope they can, so they know. So they know this man owns you. So they know you love him. 

Alastor is not far behind, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you specially hard and deep know, delayed gratification hitting all at once. He cums so hard inside you, he’s sure he finally marked your soul. The feeling of his cock twitching and spilling inside you, adding to the indescriptible sensation. You are completely over the edge now, you feel weightless, free falling. 

You know Alastor will catch you.

“Ah! There she is” you open your eyes and feel a soft kiss on your cheek. You are lying on top of Alastor’s chest, he cuddles you gently, making lazy circles on your hipbone but still buried to the hilt inside you. He still plans to give you all of his cum, all he has during his rut,after all. 

“woah, that was… amazing” you say after a while.

“Well, I did whip and fuck you to the brink of insanity my dear. And you came so beautifully for me, you passed out. You’re such a sight pet. I will never forget it.” you blush at his words. You feel so happy. 

Alastor kisses your cheek again, and with a final thrust he leaves you with a obscenely wet noise. You are dripping with his cum, it’s running down your thighs, staining the sheets. 

You whimper in complaint. 

“Ah ,don’t be like that” he laughs, is a genuinely happy laugh. “There’s still plenty of where that came from, but I need my darling doe to rest first” he says. He’s lying you gently on the bed as he gets up. “Don’t leave” you whisper. 

He’s out of the bed anyways, and seems to be on his way to do something. You don’t care, you want him back here, holding you. You don't want him to ever let you go.

“Al, i’m truly sorry about today. You know that, right?” You know that I love you, right?  You want to say, but you are scared that confession is a little much for today. You see where he’s headed now. He opens the bathroom door.

“Don’t even think about it, my dear. It’s all water under the bridge” he says in his usual chirpy tone, louder than the noise of the bath running. “Now you just need to promise me that you will never even let the thought of that pathetic demon cross your mind, my love”

my love.

“And if he ever does, you will let me know. So I can fuck those wretched ideas out of your mind” Alastor is walking back to the bed now. He picks you up bridal style and carries you across the room. You can’t help the hiss that escape your lips as your irritated skin touches him. “I know, I know my dear. We will fix that right up. I can’t have my favourite doe hurting. We still have a long way to go until the end of my rut, dearest” you don’t reply, you are just happy. perfectly happy. You could hear Alastor’s voice for days without complaining. “But you did look so perfect with that scarlet ass on my lap. Crying from how much you love what I do to you. I hope you never forget that” 

You both reach the bathtub, he drops you with all the care in the world inside the water.

“I’m so proud of you. I truly am” the water is warm. The soap smells so nice. He lit candles too. You give in to the soothing sensations. You might have tuned out for a bit, cause you hear alastor calling your name so softly… He says it again, slow, soft, gentle, pleading. As to catch your attention, he has something important to say. “You know how precious you are to me, don’t you my little doe?” “yes” you respond, trying to fight the tears that begin to spill down your face ‘

“Oh my darling girl, why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about. You are here, safe with me. As you will always be, as is your place.”

“Alastor I-I-” your heart swells, you want to say something. You want to say everything you are feeling. How consuming, in the best way possible, your feelings are for him.

But Alastor is always 10 steps ahead. 

“I know, I know darling” he kisses your hand “I feel it too.” he says. It feels like a confession, it sounds like a confession. The look on his eyes is the one of that mystery that hides there every time his voice in the midst of your passion. 

When you,know you know. your mind reiterates. 

“Let me help you dry those tears. Save them for another day” He holds your face and kiss your lips. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is resting and recovering that luscious body of yours, as well as your brilliant, witty mind”

He hands you a sparkly fancy pink soap, and gets up to find the softest sponge he has stored. 

“Now, I hope you like the smell of these candles, cause I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least the next four days!” 

Alastor continues to chat away sweet nothings as he helps you bathe. Maybe it will take a while for the Radio Demon to say those 4 words out loud. He has enough reason for that, inside that beautiful, complicated mind of his. His actions always speak louder than words, your relationship was proof of that. 

Until then, you will always have sacred moments in crowded rooms, you will always have jokes that only the both of you understand. He will always keep sweeping you off your feet in the most deliciously wicked ways possible. 

Right now, you have him by your side after everything that happened, you have his heart too. You are sure of that. So you don’t mind waiting for him.

Good things come for those who wait.

[lemonlover1110]

Double Trouble

Dad Series

Toji Fushiguro

Warnings: Pure Fluff

*I promise next update will be a fic update but it'll take a while!! Meanwhile enjoy this little holiday drabble🥹

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Ko-Fi

The twins are both extremely curious about the man who leaves Christmas gifts under the tree. More so because this person gets cookies and milks without having to beg for them. They aren’t interested in the man himself, but they wonder if he really does eat all those cookies that they leave out.

“At what time does Santa come?” Kisho asks, and Toji already senses they’re up to something. The twins are never up to something good, and he already feels the headache forming.

“We’re sleeping, honey. We don’t know.” You answer, and their tiny eyes go to Megumi. Their older brother has told them about Santa and how he’s caught the man in the act of giving gifts. He gave them a vague description of their dad, but the twins obviously didn’t catch on. Megumi shrugs, obviously not giving them any answer that could help them.

“Santa doesn’t give gifts to naughty babies so you two better not be planning anything.” Toji warns them, and they nod. They’re angels, of course they wouldn’t try to do anything! 

Not until they’re sure their parents are in bed. Then Kisho wakes up a sleeping Koemi, reminding her of their plan: Eat some of the cookies that were left out for Santa– They made sure to leave out a lot, he surely wouldn’t miss one or two cookies, right?

“Shush! Don’t wake mommy and daddy up!” Kisho makes sure that their footsteps are barely audible and they don’t make any noise so they don’t get caught in the act. They manage to make it to the living room without getting caught. Their eyes see glory as they land on the cookies. Their mouths water and their arms stretch out as they walk towards it– Until they’re lifted off the floor.

They’re about to scream but they look up to find their older brother, one that uses every bounce of his strength to carry them and hide them behind their Christmas tree. When Megumi puts them down, he puts his index finger on his lips, telling them to be quiet.

Then the twins look at their parents. Toji takes a seat on the couch, licking his lips as he looks at the cookies. Then you come along, and take a look at the storage closet that’s downstairs. You make a comment, “I think we went a little overboard with gifts this year, Toji.”

“They deserve it, baby. They might give me a headache but they’re good kids.” Toji answers. Toji tries to act all tough but he’s a softie on the inside, especially for his kids. 

“Did you make sure they were sleeping?” You ask, and Toji hums in response. The twins have never been this quiet in their life. They don’t want to get in trouble. Not until Toji reaches for the cookies, grabbing one and eating it. It’s just one cookie though, it should be fine. But then Toji eats one after the other, and Koemi can’t watch it anymore. Not when there’s only one cookie left.

“That’s for Santa, daddy!” She yells out, leaving her hiding spot. Both you and Toji are stunned to find your daughter there, and Toji furrows his brows. He walks over to his daughter, crouching down and tilting his head to the side. “What are you doing, honey? You should be sleeping.”

“I’m…” She begins, as you walk to the place she came out of and find your other two kids hiding, crossing your arms. Megumi covers his face with his palms due to the embarrassment of being caught, and Kisho mimics him. 

“Looks like you didn’t check if they were sleeping, Toji.” You look back at your husband with a frown on your face. You then look at your sons, “And it seems like Santa might not come tonight.”

“Because daddy ate all the cookies?” Kisho asks, and you shake your head. Your husband answers for you though,

“Because Santa doesn’t give gifts to naughty babies– And teenagers, isn’t that right, Megumi?”

(Spoiler alert: Santa still came and gave all the gifts to the kids.)

[liliewrites]

Wouldn't mind requests she says.. hm then how about a soft smut for arlecchino ? I do love the way you wrote her and I'm a sucker for her being so in love with her s/o lol. Perhaps she saw you play with the children or help them with something and was overcome with the affection

Other than that I did mean to ask, are you excited for Wuthering Waves ? Some of these characters are kinda... 😳😳😳 Yinlin especially frfr

Oh and do you accept emoji anons ? Might be a bit easier lol, if you do could I have 🔥 ?

Have a lovely day :)

OMGGG HIII MY FIRST EMOJI ANON? HIIII 🔥 ANONN!!!:OO anyway, regarding WuWa, i have seen stuff about it but not really much updated about it since i've been busy but i do know that it's coming out tomorrow? iirc. but yea fear not for i WILL be playing it, BUT YEAAA yinlin omg and baizhi?? ughajshd who knows i might write about them too.. anyw enjoy anon!!!

-warning/s : NSFW, cunnilingus (r! receiving), tooth rotting fluff, super soft arlecchino, not proofread.

(men and minor dni utc!)

imo.. arlecchino is a person who genuinely loves and cares but prefers not to show emotion especially due to her profession and background (childhood too). she does not like being vulnerable at all and has trust issues with everyone, even the kids as they r still capable of betrayal, but she trusts you 100% with her vulnerability and what she sees as her "weaknesses" which is why she is more showy of her love and care towards you, hence why she is a lovesick fool for her s/o in my eyes hwjasdh sorry for yapping anyw here's ur fic that was supposed to be just a thirst.. haha.. this was also rushed and not proof-read so sorry for d mistakes.. HAHAHA (will elaborate about this behavior of hers in future fics..)

"f-father, may i have a moment?"

small hands tug on the harbinger's coat, and her deadpan eyes meet with those that belonged to a nervous toddler-- one of her children, to be specific. "what is it, my child?" she asked, tone devoid of any feeling, making it hard to guess what she was thinking, much to the child's anxiety of getting scolded by her.

"a-a.. a bouquet for you, father!"

frail little hands open up in front of her, a messy bundle of assorted wild flowers tied together with a sloppy ribbon had been presented to the knave. with a hum, the harbinger accepts the bouquet from the toddler's hands, gives her a pat on the head and the little darling scurries off.

her eyes follow the direction of where the child was headed to, the harbinger's curiosity was piqued and she wanted to know what had motivated the child to bring her flowers out of nowhere without any special occasion.

-- but as soon as she sees as to who the child runs to, she immediately has a clear answer to her question. of course, it was you, it was you who encouraged the child to give her flowers. with silent steps, she approached the slightly ajar of the bedroom's door, leaning on the wall next to it to hear your conversations with the child.

"ah, little love, have you given your father the bouquet you made?"

"y-yes mother! she even gave me a headpat.."

"hmm, now you see, my love? father is not scary at all, father can be strict with you, but it is only out of concern.. sharing is caring, little love, i am sure she'll appreciate a few flowers from time to time. now settle down, it is time for bed."

arlecchino stared at the "bouquet" in her hands, suddenly, it had more meaning to her than just a bunch of wild flowers. it was evidence of the child learning to give, and of course you were the one who taught them that. it was evidence of the child learning that they could be safe around her despite her outward appearance, and of course you were the one who assured them that. she was scary to most children, yes, for she had nurtured and raised them under the guise of a strict and unfeeling father just so she could raise them with proper discipline. although recently, even the younger kids, they have started to treat her more.. genuinely. ah, it must have been your doing. you must have been convincing them behind the scenes. she should hate you, for coaxing the kids in indulging with personal emotions that could cause them to have flaws as they grow up, but she doesn't. instead, she is thankful, because you've treated the kids with such gentleness and unconditional love-- she is thankful that you've treated her the same.

"oh! my beloved, have.. you been standing there all this time?"

a surprised gasp brings her back to her senses, the sound of the door closing behind her lover's back echoed through the hallway of the orphanage. "no, darling. i was simply checking up on you and the children, are they asleep?" arlecchino asks, choosing not to reveal to her wife that she had found out about your recent teachings. "yes, all tucked and away to dreamland." you smiled at her, walking up to her and pulling her in for a hug. the knave was not one for affection, that was made clear, but after a busy day- she cannot help but miss you too. "let's go to bed, my love. i wish to cradle you by my side tonight." you whisper to her ear, and arlecchino silently nods, her hand on your lower back.

as soon as you return to your bedroom with arlecchino, dressed in bed time clothes, the harbiner seemed to have other plans however as she immediately starts to pepper you with slow, soft and sensual kisses.

"my love, ah- you're.. strangely affectionate today, not that i don't like it, is there something on your mind?" you ask with that same gentle tone of yours, the same tone that reduces her to a lovesick fool whenever it's just you two, that lets her put down the wall she's built to let you in and show you what's inside her mind.

"nothing, my beloved.." she whispers, looking at you with adoration. it makes your heart skip a beat to see her like this. she leans in to kiss your forehead, a silent thank you for taking care of the kids.

".. i just simply wish to express my feelings. isn't that what you teach within this household?"

she adds, which confuses you a little. you were unsure about what she exactly meant, but you let her regardless. "okay, my beloved. express your feelings then." you mumbled with a silly smile, finding arlecchino's actions a bit adorable- quite similar to the children, even. arlecchino nods, a look of determination paints her face for a moment, then she leans in to kiss your cheek.

a silent thank you for loving her and seeing through her harsh demeanor. you can't help but feel flustered, feeling like a teenage girl and her first love.

she then moves on to kiss your neck in a ticklish manner, making you giggle, and it was music to her ears.

a silent thank you for introducing genuine warmth to the house of hearth. thanks to you, the orphanage burned with compassion and not with competitiveness. "beloved, aha- s-stop it!" you squirm with a chuckle, and arlecchino's face may not show it, but her heart is leaping at the sight of your gorgeous smile.

a kiss to your chest, making you gasp as her lips landed on your nipples. her tongue swirling gently around it, making you feel a subtle warmth from the intimacy of the moment.

a silent thank you for being a source of healing to her. before you, the word "mother" had brought chills up her spine, and she resented the word fiercely but after you? you had shown her what a real mother was like, and it's one of the many qualities you hold that she absolutely adores about you.

"mhm.. my beloved, is it gratitude that you wish to express?"

you asked, followed by a quiet moan as she releases your chest from her mouth with a pop. she was in awe of you, that you were able to read her mind without having to tell you. ".. yes, my beloved. how did you know?" she curiously asked, and you couldn't help but let out another chuckle. oh, this side of arlecchino was endearing, to see her openly express her thoughts. "you like to show your gratitude towards me in the form of kisses, arlecchino." you answered, bringing your hand to her head to pull her closer, then leaning in to kiss her forehead as well. "- but this is certainly the most intimate way you've shown it." you added, and she definitely felt a bit flustered. either way, arlecchino does not say a word, and chooses to continue expressing her emotions through actions.

her kisses go lower, and lower, and the sensitivity that you feel from increases.

silence rings throughout the room, except for your moans off the walls. her gratitude and devotion to you was as clear as day. her hands gently held you down by the hips as she pulled down your panties with her teeth. it was fucking hot, to see her hold you completely still with her strength alone-- and the eye contact that she kept as she stripped your pussy bare.

"my beloved, do i have permission?"

"of course, my love."

arlecchino knows that asking consent, despite it being already established beforehand, was a major turn on for you. she started by light kitten licks to your clit, making you gasp with each time her tongue made contact with the sensitive bud. the quick and light flicks were a tease, and made you tremble in anticipation.

"the mother of my children, what a pretty pussy you have.."

she mumbles in pure adoration, her breath lightly grazing against your exposed slit. you couldn't help but let out a shaky gasp of her name, "a-arlecchino.. please, do something.." you begged. "patience, my beloved." she answers, but dives right in between your legs to give your slit one, long, lick. it drove you crazy, but it felt so good. she slid her hands under your knees, bringing you closer to her, before holding onto your thighs to keep you spread apart.

"mm, you taste so splendid on my tongue, beloved.."

she moans, before finally indulging both you and her with the pleasure of her tongue roaming, exploring and pleasing your pussy. you started to squirm with the increasing intensity of her licks, and soon she was eating you out like a starved madman. thank god for strong hands, as you could barely keep yourself still, if it weren't for her holding you down you would have kept lifting yourself off the bed.

"a-arlecchino- arle-!"

you cried out her name, as her tounge darted inside you. you were close. so close. arlecchino however, was currently drunk on your moans and the taste of your slick, too busy savoring the raw taste of you, her lover. she hadn't noticed the way your cries were getting louder, or how tighter your grip on her head was becoming-- so she was surprised when you suddenly closed your thighs around her head, a bit of your fluids landing on her lips and tongue, accompanied with a loud cry of her name. she spread your legs apart once more and kept it open through the whole duration of your orgasm, wanting to see how your pussy throbbed and dripped, wanting to admire how pretty you were when you came undone because of her actions.

after you've settled down, she immediately joins you for a cuddle, she was not finished for the night- no, but she'd grant you a short moment of respite. she lays her head on your chest, closing her eyes as she listens to your heartbeat. "my love, i am still surprised how you've managed to notice my way of showing gratitude when i haven't realized it myself.", she mentions. you smiled at that, and looked at her. "to be known is to be loved. i love you, peruere."

she opens her mouth to speak, wanting to further inquire what you meant by that, but closes her mouth as she realizes what you meant once you call her peruere, the name that she hid away as it represents her past, her most fragile self, that only you've come to know instead of arlecchino, the name that spreads far and wide, which strikes fear and conquers respect from the hearts of many.

she nods in agreement, wrapping her arm around you tighter. her heart swelling from the feeling of loving and being loved, of knowing and being known. to be recognized. to be appreciated.

"i agree, my beloved. i am thankful that you've come to know me as who i really am, and stayed to love me despite what i've come to be. i love you too."

[starscelly]

it's that time of year again... new fans! old fans! general inquiring minds!!! i present to you this year's dallas stars primer!! as always, based more on Vibes and Personality than the cold hard facts (but there are cold hard facts). slides last updated as of April 3rd, 2024 (:

huge huge huge thank you to @oetter @saltandpepperbox and @stickypucky for constantly reading over my work and helping add to this <3 <3

as always if there's any further questions do not hesitate to send me an ask or message!! enjoy!!!! slides below + small blurb about starsblr community for those curious/interested

(click to make the images larger/easier to read)

AS OF APRIL 5th 2024: MAVRIK BOURQUE HAS BEEN CALLED UP FROM THE AHL, LIKELY DUE TO AN ON-AND-OFF INJURY SUSTAINED BY TYLER SEGUIN. CURRENT AHL LEADING SCORER (SINCE STANK HAS BEEN CALLED UP) AND VERY FUN AND FRENCH CANADIAN (:

If after reading all of this, you're interested in becoming more involved with the stars and stars community, please know on starsblr we are sooo insanely welcoming!!!! the lb tag is extremely active and has some of the funniest, nicest people you'll ever meet. we also have such a blessedly large gifmaking community, some great artists, and of course phenomenal fic writers, so there's no shortage of silliness and vibes. I really encourage you to scroll the tags and consume all of this work because it is truly SUCH a fun, lively place here!!

and again, as always, my dms and inbox are always open <3

[biconickyoshi]

Been wanting to do some updated character model sheet thingies for my ongoing longfic The Avatar and the Fire Prince, so here they are! :) Up until now I'd only drawn Zuko and Aang, but I thought it was about time I added Iroh and the Water Tribe siblings to the lineup as well. Right now all I've done this for is Books 1 & 2, but I really want to get started on the Books 3 & 4 versions so I can add Toph and Suki (and possibly Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee) to the lineup!

As usual, for anyone who has not read my fic but is curious about the premise: this is an AU in which Zuko and Iroh discover Aang in the iceberg just 3 months after Zuko is burned and banished at age 13 in 96 AG, 4 years prior to the return of Sozin's Comet. It is also an enemies to best friends to lovers slowburn in which Zukaang is endgame (since Aang was released from the iceberg 3 years early in this AU, he is only one year younger than Zuko). This fic is heavily based in canon, so I try my hardest to ensure that everything is canon-compliant at least when it comes to lore and character behavior despite the different circumstances.

Book 1: Air's premise: after finding and capturing Aang, Zuko and Iroh are forced to escape with him on Appa when Zhao interferes with their plans to return to the Fire Nation. This Book focuses on Aang desperately searching the Air Temples for any remnants of his people he can find, dragging Zuko and Iroh along in the process. Eventually, Zuko starts to question everything he was raised to believe, while Iroh is forced to face the mistakes of his past.

Book 2: Water begins with Aang, Zuko, and Iroh traveling to the South Pole after Aang starts to have recurring nightmares about an impending attack on Wolf Cove (Sokka and Katara's village), and eventually follows my adaptations of several storylines from canon Book 1 before ending with the Siege of the North in Agna Qel'a. During this Book, Zuko begins to realize his feelings for Aang are more than friendship, while Aang remains oblivious (lol).

Book 3: Earth is the Book I am currently working on (the most recent chapter was my adaptation of "Avatar Day") and so far follows Aang, Zuko, Iroh, Katara, and Sokka as they search for an earthbending teacher for Aang - so far, it has followed the general canon plot of Book 2, though of course, as always, there are differences due to this being an AU. No spoilers, but I have some really interesting things planned for this Book, particularly as we get closer to the Ba Sing Se arc. I also have a lot of fun stuff planned for the Zukaang romance in this Book.

Book 4: Fire will be the last Book of the fic, and will of course revolve around the Gaang in the Fire Nation. This is all I will say for now since I don't want to spoil the plans I have for the previous Book (which will heavily influence what happens in Book 4, obv).

When I finally finish this fic (I'm about halfway through at 33/65 chapters), I plan to start writing a direct sequel that adapts the events of the comics, as well as a Korrasami-focused Legend of Korra rewrite fic that is set in the same AU as TAatFP.

[vizslasaber]

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── i.

summary: after landing on the umbaran surface, you butt heads with your fellow general—but get along swimmingly with your temporary clone captain.

pairing: captain rex x female jedi!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: combat/action, mentions of injury + death, krell being a bitch, reader with a name instead of y/n because i hate it

a/n: it’s back!!! previously i posted this series on my main, @brrmian, but i changed that blog’s username and have mostly shifted over to fanart and general SW content. i’ve decided to dedicate this new side blog’s content entirely to fic writing under my old username, posting reader insert on here and everything else on ao3! this fic will be updated sparsely but definitely more often than it was on my main. i’ve changed a few things regarding the plot of this series specifically, and i like it a lot more now!!

series masterlist | click here to add or remove yourself from the taglist!

You hadn’t wanted to leave the Temple behind—you still don’t, even lightyears away from the Core.

When the Jedi Council had first made you aware of the plan to have you and a Master you’d never met capture an Umbaran airbase with troops that were not your own, you had put up something of a fight. What right, you demanded, did the Chancellor have the right to simply pull a Jedi from their sacred duty for a trivial air-to-ground assault?

The Council had either not wanted to answer this question or had not known how to, so now you stand on a transport gunship with two clone troopers and an intimidatingly tall Besalisk Jedi Master by the name of Pong Krell. Both of you are holding onto the grab handles hanging from the ceiling; you’re gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles are slightly pale, but Krell looks perfectly steady.

Of course he is, you think bitterly. He has four arms.

The atmosphere of Umbara is breathable but strangely thick—fog seeps through the blast door openings, and the lights inside the gunship’s passenger bay seem to have dimmed. Your lightsabers bump against your hips and you wince slightly as sounds of frantic gunfire reach your ears.

This will be your first campaign.

You have seen death before, on missions as a Padawan before the war—but never on this scale, if the reports of your already-knighted friends from the Temple are anything to go by. You only hope that you will be assigned your own battalion soon, so you don’t have to go running around replacing wayward Generals.

It’s hard, standing at the side of an imposing Master, not to feel like a Padawan. The skin behind your right ear burns with the memory of the braid that had been there just last week, waiting to be sheared off as you prepared for your ascension to Knighthood.

While your battalion assignment is pending, Master Windu told you as you stood in the center of the Council Chamber, the Senate has requested that we send two Jedi Knights to replace Skywalker on Umbara.

Master Krell is already on-world, assisting Master Kenobi, but he will need another Jedi’s help if he and the 501st are to take the capital in Skywalker’s stead, Master Plo explained, his hologram flickering as he called in from some faraway world.

All due respect, Masters, you remember asking as you willed yourself not to tremble, but why me? I’ve never been anywhere near the front. I wouldn’t be much help.

Believe in your potential, we do, Master Yoda said. An opportunity for you to do good, the Force has given you.

And that, it was decided, was that.

Even now, after meditating on your anxiety for practically the entire journey through hyperspace, your nerves feel impossibly frayed. The transport jostles, but you only sway slightly, arm already holding onto an overhead handle for balance. There’s a shiny new military-issue commlink attached to your right vambrace. A morbid thought, of calling in a medevac for injured soldiers with this very communicator, crosses your mind—but you let it dissipate.

The gunship suddenly makes a sharp dive, and your stomach swoops—you must be about to land. You spare a glance at General Krell, who has now let go of the grab handles and has crossed all four of his arms over his chest. For a moment, you’re almost tempted to ask how he manages to stay so balanced while the ship is moving, but then the blast doors slide open and the gunship lands in shadowy darkness.

The first person you see is Anakin Skywalker. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger—despite having been knighted several years earlier, as one of the first Padawan victims of the Jedi Military Integration Act. Your Master, ever traditional even when the Order began to stray from its centuries-old teachings, did her best to keep you apprenticed for as long as possible, but even that eventually proved futile.

In the end, you and Anakin are practically of the same age, and yet he has infinite more experience than you. Uncertainty wheedles its way into your chest and slips a pin into your lungs; you’re holding your breath as you follow Krell off the gunship.

Being far shorter than the Besalisk, you have to jump down. When you hit the ground, you shiver at the misty atmosphere, watching as bioluminescent specks of dust fly up underneath your boots.

As the two of you approach, you hear the troopers of the 501st legion mutter amongst themselves, but you push it aside and focus on the pleasantries.

“General Krell. General Neridian,” Anakin says, smiling graciously. “My thanks for the air support.”

“Indeed, General Skywalker,” Krell replies, bowing politely. “The locals have proven to be more resourceful than we anticipated.”

“We managed to get here in one piece, though,” you add jokingly, and Anakin smirks, his eyes twinkling. You gesture to the troopers unloading the gunship behind you. “And we brought ration resupplies.”

Anakin nods appreciatively, then raises one eyebrow after a moment, looking slightly confused. “But—that’s not the reason for your visit.”

“No,” Krell admits. “The Council has ordered you back to Coruscant, effective immediately.”

“What?” Skywalker demands. “Wh-why?”

“The Chancellor...” you pause, searching for a word, before you settle on, “insisted that you return. The Council had no say on the matter.”

“That is all they would tell us,” Krell adds, though he doesn’t sound displeased.

“Well, I—I can’t just leave my men!” Anakin protests, and for the first time you notice the trooper standing at attention beside him.

He’s identical to all the clones you’ve met, of course, except for one detail—his hair is blond. You wonder vaguely if it would be polite to ask him whether or not it’s natural as you survey his armor. The pauldron on his left shoulder indicates a position of command, but he carries a sense of individuality in the Force that, despite your inexperience with working with them, you’ve come to realize every clone has. His helmet is painted with a distinctly Mandalorian sigil, but it’s not one you recognize.

His gaze is pointed directly ahead; he makes no eye contact with you. Probably just as annoyed at the change of plans as Anakin is, you realize.

Krell moves to speak, jolting you from your thoughts. You recognize Anakin’s agitation, however, so you calmly move to intercept.

“The Council would not just leave your troopers to fend for themselves—not that they aren’t perfectly capable of doing so, of course,” you add, which merits the barest hint of a smile from the trooper standing beside Anakin. “It’s just… well, the Senate needs a Jedi to be at the head of every campaign, and I guess they figured subtracting one of you would mean—”

“—adding two other Jedi,” Anakin says with a snort of derision. “Yeah… sounds like the Senate. But you guys’ll probably get it done faster anyway.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, sir,” interjects the trooper, and Anakin looks to him. “We’ll have this city under control by the time you’re back.”

“Generals, this is Captain Rex, my first in command,” Anakin says fondly, and you see something like pride show itself in Rex’s eyes. “You won’t find a finer or more loyal trooper anywhere.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you affirm earnestly.

“Yes, that is good to hear,” Krell agrees, then places a large hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I wish you well, Skywalker.”

Anakin simply nods at him, then stops beside you and says, “I hear you passed the Trials.”

You gesture to your hair, now void of a Padawan braid. “Apparently so,” you reply. “Funny, I didn’t think you were one to get swept into the rumour mill.”

A grin, boyish and bright, springs to Anakin’s face. “Nah, I’m always one for good gossip.” His expression turns softer, then, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, though… congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you say, but he’s already approaching the gunship and taking hold of one of the grab handles. The ship is off within seconds, and you can’t help but feel apprehensive as it flies away, up into the fog.

Taking a moment to gather yourself, you turn to Rex and offer a polite nod. He returns it, then says, “It is an honour to be serving with you, Generals.”

“The honour is all mine,” you return graciously, and Rex looks like he’s about to say something else, but stops when Krell begins to speak.

“I find it very interesting, Captain, that you are able to recognize the value of honour,” he begins, then—almost as an afterthought—adds, “for a clone.”

Silence.

Your eyebrows shoot up, and as Rex stares at Krell in shock, you feel your armored chest tighten—with frustration or shock, you don’t yet know.

“Stand at attention when I address you,” Krell snaps, turning to face the other troopers, and as Rex obliges, you narrow your eyes and step forward.

“Master Krell,” you start, your jaw tightening, “I do believe it would be far more... prudent to show respect to the soldiers who have so graciously agreed to undertake this mission with us.” You tilt your head questioningly, sending your ponytail swaying. “After all—we are the ones who just arrived.”

A ripple of white-hot anger moves through the Force with lightning speed, but it’s gone before you can take time to process it. Now, all you can feel is something akin to gratitude, trickling like a cool waterfall from where Rex stands, back straight and eyes ahead.

“They agreed to nothing,” Krell counters, and you blink as his wide upper lip curls back to reveal a row of dangerously sharp teeth. “Do not forget, young one, that we are the Generals they serve under at present.”

“I...” you pause, momentarily at a loss for words, then clasp your hands behind your back and force your jaw to unclench. “I haven’t forgotten that. But I also haven’t forgotten that the only way to succeed in this endeavour is to work together.”

“And with what experience do you so kindly bestow this advice upon us, Knight Neridian?” Krell asks, and the question is like a bucket of ice water down the back of your robes.

You swallow, and search for the words to say, but none come. Cheeks burning with shame, you stare determinedly at the ground.

The tension in Krell’s Force signature disappears, as sudden as the crack of a whip, and he draws in a deep breath. You look up as the pouch-like piece of flesh under Krell’s chin grows in size and he begins to pace.

“Nevertheless,” Krell brushes off, acting as though none of your words register with him, “there’s a reason my command is so effective, and it’s because I do things by the book.” He walks past a soldier in an ARC Trooper uniform who has the number five tattooed on his right temple. The trooper doesn’t move as Krell passes him, but you can see a vein on his forehead bulge.

“And that includes protocol,” Krell puts in. He turns to you. “Have all platoons ready to move out immediately.”

You bristle. “I—I thought we were to make decisions together,” you protest, raising your chin defiantly.

Technically, there’s nothing to defy, seeing as you hold equal rank with Krell—but the Council specified in their briefing that this was supposed to be a learning experience, an introduction to combat before receiving your own battalion. And something about Master Krell demands respect, or at the very least obedience, despite the fact that you’re starting to want to do everything you can not to give it to him.

Krell simply huffs and turns around, his yellow eyes flashing, and walks away, leaving you surrounded by a platoon troopers.

You frown after him. “Well, now I know why Master Venn wished me good luck,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Some of the troopers snicker, but you hardly notice.

Your former master, Esya Venn, had pulled you aside just before leaving. The look on her face had been nothing short of concerned, but you’d shrugged it off in the moment, even when she’d told you to be careful, Padawan. She never told anyone to be careful—it was simply a reflex to think twice about your actions around Esya.

But now you understand.

Scrubbing a hand over your tired face, you take a deep breath and turn to Captain Rex. “Shall we set off?” you ask, and he nods, promptly putting on his helmet.

“Move out, soldiers!” he shouts, starting down the path after Krell. “Come on, let’s go!”

You give Rex a grateful smile, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s returning it. With one last glance at the battalion, you hurry to the front and fall into step next to General Krell.

It’s silent for some time. Krell doesn’t deter, no matter how dark it gets, and after a while you begin to grow uncomfortable next to him. The anger you’d felt in the Force earlier is dormant, but certainly there, and it makes chills erupt down your spine.

"I’m going to check on the Captain,” you say, and Krell only nods when you turn around and quickly find Rex, who’s walking about two meters behind where you previously were.

The Captain salutes briefly. “General.”

“Captain,” you reply politely, before glancing back at Krell. “I can’t help but notice that there’s—” you pause for a moment. Do these troopers know enough about the Force to have conversations with you about it?

Knowing Anakin, you realize, they probably do, so you clear your throat and continue. “I get a strange feeling from Master Krell,” you say quietly.

Rex’s shoulders relax just slightly. “How so, sir?”

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I don’t know, exactly,” you reply, then gesture vaguely in front of you, where Krell is half-visible in the murky fog. “The Force around him is unclear. It’s... hard to explain.”

“Hard to explain, as in it’s a Jedi thing?” Rex guesses, and you grin widely.

“Yes,” you say. “It’s a Jedi thing.” Reaching up, you curl a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I may not be a Jedi, sir,” Rex says after a moment, “but I think I know what you mean by strange feeling.”

“Quicken that pace, battalion!” Krell suddenly shouts over his shoulder, and you jump. “This isn’t some training course on Kamino.”

You sigh and raise your voice, turning to the troopers. “What General Krell means,” you call, pointedly shooting a glare at the Besalik’s back, “is that we must continue to make good time. Keep up the good work.”

Krell gives no answer, but you feel a ripple of frustration coming from his direction. There’s another thread in the Force, one of gratitude, but you can’t tell where exactly it’s coming from. You latch onto it nonetheless and file the feeling away for later, letting yourself make an easy pace just ahead of Rex.

“He certainly has a way with words,” you hear one of the clones say, and when you glance behind you out of the corner of your eye, you can see that the source is someone with similar armor to Rex’s. Another ARC, or someone of similar rank.

There’s a sigh. You think it’s from Rex. The troopers obviously don’t know you’re listening, so you direct your gaze ahead, keeping your pace steady.

“He’s just trying to keep us on schedule,” Rex explains, voice hushed and sounding a bit sheepish.

"By raising everyone’s ire?” the other trooper grumbles.

“Either way, he’s in charge,” Rex protests. “And we’ve got a job to do.”

“She’s in charge, too,” hisses the trooper, and you purse your lips, knowing he’s pointing to you.

Another sigh, again from Rex. “Just—treat them both with respect, and we’ll all get along fine.”

You’re about to turn around when your neck stiffens. It’s an instinctual reaction, like the Force tapping you on the shoulder—one that you’ve learned to interpret as a warning. Less than a second later, a loud screech echoes above your head.

“Ready your weapons!” Rex shouts, at the same moment you draw one lightsaber.

Faster than your eyes can process, a winged creature swoops down and grabs a trooper—but you don’t need your eyes. The cyan beam of your lightsaber casts a glow on the shadowy ground, and you jump upwards, landing on a large plant that allows you to swing from a vine and graze the blade across the wing of one of the creatures. It falls to the ground with another screech before flying away, relatively unharmed.

One to go.

You’re about to grab hold of a second vine and swing towards the other creature, but a flash of blurred blue and green makes you pull back—Krell beats you to it, landing on top of the creature and wrestling it to the ground.

“Wait—stop!” you shout as he draws his lightsabers, but it’s too late. He’s already skewered the creature mercilessly, and it lies dead on the ground, life blinking out of the Force in an instant.

You jump off of the large plant, landing on both feet, and hook your now deactivated lightsaber onto your belt. “Why did you kill it?” you demand, pushing past several onlooking clones.

“It is nothing more than a violent inhabitant of this area,” Krell dismisses, and you feel your jaw drop.

“But…” you start, at a loss for words. “The Code decrees—”

“The Code,” Krell says coldly as he turns to stare at you, “allows for self defense.”

You draw yourself up to your full height, switching off your lightsaber with a snap-hiss before hooking it back onto your belt. “That’s not what—”

Krell’s lightsabers deactivate loudly, cutting you off, and he returns them to either side of his belt before turning away and continuing on the path. “Anyone else want to stop and play with the animals?”

No one answers, but you feel your fists clench as if of their own accord.

This is going to be a long night.

Umbara’s plant life is fascinating. Observing the bioluminescent life forms is the only thing that serves a proper distraction from both the grumbling clone troopers and the pit of apprehension in your stomach. You’d been walking for twelve hours, give or take, and every time you’d tried to suggest a break to Krell, he’d snapped at you.

This can’t be allowed, you think bitterly, skipping over a glowing pink tree root, boots skidding on the dark purple ground.

You chew on your bottom lip and glance at the clones behind you. They are understandably worn out, and even with the extensive survival training Master Esya drilled into you as a Padawan, you were starting to get tired, too.

“Sir,” says a voice from behind you, and you jump, expecting in your exhaustion to see Krell—but it’s just Rex.

“We’ve been keeping this pace for almost half a rotation,” Rex points out, sounding vaguely nervous. “The men are... starting to tire. General Krell is...” he tilts his head, expressionless visor unreadable. “You know.”

You muster a smile, hoping you look at least a little like Master Enya, and nod.

“I know, Captain,” you say, and he shifts slightly, as though his blue-painted pauldron is uncomfortable. You can’t blame him. Running a hand over your ponytail, you blow out a breath and frown at the puff of air that appears in front of you. “Let me talk to him. Tell the men to start searching for a good spot to camp for a few hours.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Rex giving an affirmative thumbs up to the troopers behind him, but by then you’re already approaching Krell, clasping your hands tightly behind your back.

“Master Krell,” you start, and Krell turns his head just a bit. “I’ve told the men to scout for a place to rest. I reviewed the mission plan on the way here, and we can spare three hours without being delayed, possibly more—”

“The men don’t need rest,” Krell interrupts, and you feel your cheeks flush with anger. “They need resolve to complete the task at hand.”

“Apologies, Master,” you say, squaring your shoulders as frustration heats your neck and face. You breathe deeply. There is no emotion, only peace. “But I don’t think the men will be on their best game when we reach the capital if they don’t take some time to gather themselves.”

“That they need to ‘gather themselves’ is a sign of weakness,” Krell cuts in, stopping and turning to face you with a sneer. “That is not what these clones were bred for.”

Not far away, many of the soldiers bristle at Krell’s choice of words, but you keep your focus on the yellow eyes staring you down for the second time that night.

“They weren’t bred to be mindless droids, either,” you argue, crossing your arms over your chest and making sure to keep your voice even. “And in case you’ve forgotten, even battle droids need to recharge. If we march on the Capital without any sort of break first, I promise you, this mission will not go as planned. Exhausted and underfed soldiers are a guaranteed disadvantage.”

Krell studies you, a sneer forming on his lips. “I see you take after your Master’s incessant need to get the last word on anyone she disagrees with.”

You scowl. “I beg your pardon, but Master Venn is—”

He ignores you, cutting past where you stand and walking away. “Do what you wish, Neridian,” he dismisses, then walks away to stand by a glowing tree.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you close your eyes. It’s becoming harder and harder not to snap at him—but you know what the Order’s teachings require of you. Emotion, yet peace.

You grimace as Krell retreats to the back of the line, then turn back to the troopers nearby and give Rex a nod. The captain returns it in what you hope is a grateful manner, then calls for the men to make camp at the top of the ridge your group has been climbing.

By the time you gather all the troopers together, the battalion has put together a hasty campsite, with half the troopers having fallen into a fitful sleep and the other half keeping watch while eating as many rations as the limit allows. You frown and approach the trooper you heard Rex talking to earlier, his Force signature familiar from when you were eavesdropping. His helmet is now sitting in his lap, being meticulously cleaned with what little supplies the battalion has on hand.

You study the soldier. He has a tattoo on his right temple, and upon studying it, you realize it’s the same ARC trooper who’d been glaring at Krell when you stepped off the gunship. You wonder what significance the number five has to him.

Taking another step forward, you clear your throat. “Trooper,” you begin, and the soldier looks up curiously before abruptly shooting to his feet and snapping off a salute. You wave a nonchalant hand. “No need for that. I only wanted to ask a favor—can you gather troopers to stand watch? Six at a time, tops, and make sure they take turns so everyone can rest. That includes you.”

“You got it, sir,” says the trooper, and you smile.

“Sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name...” you say, then, and the trooper blinks.

“Oh, uh—it’s Fives, sir.”

“I see,” you reply, gaze flickering to his tattoo and back again. “Thank you, Fives.”

You retreat to your own tent soon after, shrugging off your vambraces and arranging them neatly next to your bedroll. This wouldn’t be the shortest sleep cycle you’d had, what with the nature of your apprenticeship at the temple—but not the longest, either.

From what you can hear inside your tent, the camp is silent. Slowly, you poke your head through the canvas flaps to find exactly six men—as you’d requested—sitting in the center of camp. Farther away, at the outskirts of the circle of tents, sits Master Krell’s hulking form. In spite of yourself, you frown.

“General?” asks a sudden voice above you; letting out an involuntary yelp, you scramble backwards before stopping at the sight of Rex standing near the entrance to your tent.

Embarrassed, you stand up, brushing off your cream-coloured robes. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I could swear I’m not usually so jumpy, I don’t know what—” you look up and stop short.

Rex has removed his helmet.

His blond hair isn’t a surprise this time around, but close up, you’re struck by how tired he looks. There are smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but his face is cast in exhausted shadows.

You wonder if a full night’s sleep is something he’s ever had, or if the training regiments on Kamino prepared him and his brothers for this kind of halfhearted sleep cycle. Curiously, you study him.

Rex’s eyes are golden-brown in the dying light of this shadowy planet. They’re the same shade as all the troopers in the immediate vicinity. And yet, as you stare into them, something in you stirs as your Force signature brushes against his—something you know you’re not supposed to feel.

“Er, General,” Rex repeats, jolting you from your faraway thoughts. “I just wanted to let you know—the scouts are detecting a clear journey from here on out. We have approximately four hours to kick back, as predicted.”

Hurriedly, you turn away and clear your throat awkwardly. “Very good, Captain,” you mumble. “Thank you. You’re—erm, free to go and rest.”

For a moment, Rex looks surprised, but he composes himself seconds later. “Thank you, General,” he says. “But I—”

“Not up for debate,” you interrupt, holding your hand up. Bemused, Rex blinks, so you shoot him a reassuring smile. “You said it yourself: the soldiers need rest. You’re a soldier, yes?”

Rex opens his mouth, probably to say something about him being a Captain, but you lower your hand to rest it on his shoulder. The kind gesture seems to quell him, so you continue. “Don’t exclude yourself in that. Rest well, Captain.”

When you turn and reenter your tent, you don’t catch the way Rex’s eyes linger on the closed flap for far longer than they should, heat prickling up his neck as the remnant of your touch burns itself through his pauldron.

“You too… General.”

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[olderthannetfic]

I thought it would be interesting to see if I could easily determine which ships had the most works updated in 2023.

It turned out to be fairly easy, though a little time consuming. I think these results should be reasonably accurate.

Some points to note:

I did this on my own account, and I have like 2 people muted. So I am capturing the effects of archive-locked works, but my numbers might be off by one or two works due to muting.

Works updated in 2023 is a number that constantly changes as works are deleted or updated again in 2024.

I didn't scrape the entire archive or anything like that, so it's possible I missed a ship that would bump one of these down below 100. I'd take the last few at the bottom there with a grain of salt. But I think we can be reasonably sure the top ones are accurate and that the kinds of numbers that we see at the bottom there (eighteen hundred plus works updated in 2023) are about where the cutoff will be even if we find a ship I missed.

--

As for how I did this, I went to the category tags and the rating tags, filtered for updating in 2023, then excluded ships in the sidebar till I got to 130-150 ships excluded. I also grabbed ships that are big in general from tag search, which you can use to find all relationship canonicals, ordered by frequency.

I combined those lists of ships, cleaned off the works numbers, and generated a list without duplicates. That got me three hundred and something (yes, they were mostly duplicates). I generated the relevant AO3 URLs, opened them in batches with Open Multiple URLs, and copied the works totals into a spreadsheet. Not as tidy as using a script but honestly pretty easy if you know a few spreadsheet formulas to clean up data.

The key here is that if you're only going for pretty good and not accurate beyond a shadow of a doubt, all you need to do is generate a list of likely ships, then check them.

It's possible that there's some much-updated ship that is so evenly spread across these various other tags that it just missed showing up in the sidebar. Hopefully, grabbing more than just the top 100 avoided this problem.

This method also doesn't take into account backdated works. If a whole archive was imported in 2023 but all backdated, there could be some ship that didn't have new works but where AO3 users experience in 2023 was of an influx of content.

I also did this just now, in late March/early April, so some 2023 works have inevitably been deleted or updated again. So the exact work counts don't represent the experience of using AO3 throughout 2023. A fandom active in early 2023 might not have much updating in early 2024, while a fandom active in late 2023 would. This could demote the latter a few places in the rankings since I didn't grab numbers on January 1st.

Even if a person scraped AO3 every day or was monkeying around in the databases, you also have to ask what conceptual answer you're after. Is it works a user could have read at some point during 2023, whether they were deleted by the year's end or not? Is it new-to-AO3 works or only newly-created ones, not including imported archives? Does it matter if the works are fic? If they're in English? What about accidental double-uploads or translations of a single work?

I hope this makes it clear why a definitive ranking is not actually possible.

However, despite these drawbacks, I am confident that the rankings above accurately represent the broad trends on AO3 in 2023. Just don't get too fixated on whether a ship should be at number 73 or number 74.

And, of course, I excluded these from the top 100:

Original Character(s)/Original Character(s) - 20,026

Minor or Background Relationship(s) - 16,187

No Romantic Relationship(s) - 8,052

Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s) - 7,195

Original Male Character/Original Male Character - 6,283

Other Relationship Tags to Be Added - 5,618

Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s) - 3,990

Original Character(s) & Original Character(s) - 3,210

Here's a spreadsheet if you want to see the actual numbers not as a shitty screencap. I left the next few below 100 for context.