#bugs. end of statement.

[heartbeetz]

Wait. I made Amy interested in bugs bc 1) it fits the personality I want her to have and 2) it was directly inspired by my own interests at that age. But I just realized something. Anton's in demolition in the new game, but he was in pest extermination in the first one (several years prior in-universe). She absolutely would've gotten into bugs just from hearing about her dad's work.

[redo-rewind-if]

Sorry for the lack of snippets lately, I figured since it's so close to release that I wouldn't do anymore atm but... I couldn't resist sharing some of this scene lol.

[solemntitty]

I can't take it anymore. I'm sick of Blade. I try to play Yanqing. My Blade deals more damage. I try to play Dan Heng IL. My Blade deals more damage. I try to play Seele. My Blade deals more damage. I want to play Jingliu. Her best team has Blade. I want to play Sampo, Himeko- they both want Blade. He grabs me by the throat. I grind relics for him. I do the simulated universe daily for SSS. I give him the Moles LC at R5. He isn't satisfied. I pull Clara's LC. "I don't need this much healing" he tells me. "Give me more crit dmg." He grabs Fu Xuan and forces her to reduce his dmg. "You just need to give me more crit. I can deal more damage with my signature LC." I can't pull for that, I don't have enough stellar jade. He grabs my credit card. It declines. "Guess this is the end." He grabs his sword. He says "Savor it for me." There is no hint of sadness in his eyes. Nothing but pure follow up attack dmg and sustainability. What a cruel world.

[an-incoherent-mess]

So I'm really into genealogy and have been for a few years now and I'm blessed with being really good with names and dates etc. So in conversation I can remember like a ridiculous amount of:

Jane Doe Smith Johnson

b. 1805 Tennessee d. 1879 Missouri

Married 1828 to John Patrick Johnson. Had five children. Died of TB

Etc etc

And that's cool enough apparently but I've mostly been using it for

A. Making up bullshit but real sounding names for stuff (i.e my name is Emily Stewart, Grace Kolár, etc). The point is that they're normal sounding and varied.

B. Having a bizarre frame of reference for historical events. Like "oh [small town],[state] 1942 had [random] event happen? My 1st cousin 4x removed got married there that year, small world!"

It's so dumb, like I'll read about some historical event from my area (where I've had family in the vicinity of since the 1840s) and I'll link up the time frame in my head and be like hmm... I wonder what 3rd great aunt Helen thought about that happening next door to her church.

[kitasuno]

to be loved is to be known | suna rintarou x reader

you're in love with suna. you think suna's in love with someone else. he's not.

slight angst, happy endings, and miscommunications atsumu is sexy reader is gn wc: 1481

It is dusk and warm and just barely humid when you realize you don’t know Suna Rintarou at all. 

You know that Suna likes chuupets and volleyball and his dingy digital camera with the cracked screen. His left eye twitches slightly when he lies, he always ties his right shoe before his left, and he keeps forgetting to buy pencil lead despite preferring mechanical pencils over traditional. He likes the rain. Can’t bite into ice cream. Wool scarves over fleece, seven followers on his private Twitter, and is always late because he likes feeding the stray cats in the alley next to the Family Mart with the good sausages. 

What you didn’t know is that Suna Rintarou is in love. You find out from Kita Shinsuke, who tells Aran after practice, a conversation not meant for your ears but gracing them nonetheless as you stand before the entrance to the gymnasium. You feel a dryness in your throat and a sting in your eyes as Kita shares that Suna is not only in love but had confessed to someone. Maybe it’s your divine punishment for eavesdropping. Maybe it’s rotten luck. Because, coincidentally, and horribly so, you’ve been in love with Suna Rintarou ever since you met him. 

So when Suna walks up from behind you, back from the vending machine, and asks you why you’re lingering outside and staring at Kita with that look on your face, you lie. 

“I have a crush on Shinsuke.” You blurt out. 

He blinks. Once. Twice. And stares. 

The longer Suna stares at you under the grey, purplish-pinkish sky with his hands shoved into his pockets and his left eye twitching, you realize you don’t know him at all. Because Suna, in all his indifference and nonchalance, looks hurt. You see something flit beneath his eyes, but you’ve never been good at reading people. So you settle on the idea that it’s something less than betrayal but more than indifference, and you don’t know why your heart’s beating so fast and sinking, pitter pattering and twisting in your stomach. 

You feel sick. 

“You like Kita-san,” He says, and it comes out as a statement, not a question. He blinks a third time, and as the look in his eyes disappears as quickly as it came, you decide you much prefer the hurt or the discomfort or the something over the blank apathy that he’s looking you over with now. “You have a crush on Kita… Shinsuke.” He finishes, and you can’t hear the bitterness in his voice over the shrill of your heart. 

You’ve always liked Suna’s eyes but tonight you like the pavement more, and as you stare a hole into the concrete beneath you, you ignore how your feet are fidgeting and your palms are sweaty and how Rintarou is hovering over you. 

“Mhm,” You squeak, tearing your eyes from the asphalt with the cracks and an ugly pill-bug on the ground. As you look up to grey eyes and dark hair, you wish that loving Suna Rintarou was harder. 

“I’m, uh, I’m going to tell Shinsuke tomorrow.” You say, Shinsuke’s name foreign on your tongue compared to the warmth and honey that Rintarou’s tastes like. I’m in love with you and this is a bad idea, you think. I like you, not Kita, is what you don’t say. Instead, and arguably worse, is the mention of Miya Atsumu’s name. “Atsumu gave me the confidence to confess!” 

Suna pauses. 

“Atsumu told you to?” He asks, and it’s the most bewildered you’ve heard him in a while.

A glance at his phone. Hands that emerge from his pockets. If you weren’t so preoccupied with the concrete you would have seen the twitch of his fingers and the tightening of his jaw as he opens Line. You nod dimly. 

“Okay,” is what he says, and you feel your heart in your stomach again. You look up. “Okay.” He repeats again. 

And maybe it’s the hurt that stings in your chest from Rintarou being so okay with you (hypothetically) being in love with Kita Shinsuke that pushes your eyes to water and your mouth to open. 

“Is that it?” You ask. 

A beat of silence. And then, a scoff. 

“Yeah. Congratulations,” Suna says. “Good luck.” 

As dusk turns to nightfall and what was a barely-humid night in July is now overwhelmingly warm and sickly and hot, Rintarou’s gaze is overbearing. And when your eyes start to swim and Suna’s gaze turns to confusion and then realization, you do the only thing you know how to do. You bolt. 

An incessant string of dings. Your lip wobbles under your teeth as you pull out your phone from under your covers. 

from: miya osamu (21:03)  where the fuck did ya go  and whys suna blwoin up my phone

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:03)  WHYYSS SUNARIN BLOWING UOA PP MY PHONE ??!?@@>>!?>??!??! WHYS HE SAYIN U LIKE KITA-SAN

from: you (21:05) its so over i ran home

from: you (21:05)  i told him i like shinsuke and that i am confessing to kita  tomorrow

amazing perfect miya atsexy and miya osamu are typing…

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:06)  WHAT

from: miya osamu (21:06) r u fuckin stupid why would ya do that

from: you (21:07) i heard shinsuke tell aran that suna confessed to someone today and then rin came back so i told him i like kita bcuz i panicked and also he cant know i like him right as he’s ginna get BAGGED wait but idk if he got rejected or not WHO AM I KIDDING suna would NOT get rejected LOLOL but anyways i think he knows i like him bcuz i started cryig and then he had this look on his face like he knew i was bullshittin him now venmo me money before i kil msyelf 

from: miya osamu (21:12) yeah he was gonna confess to YOU today

from: you (21:12) ?

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:12) HOLY MISCOMMUNICATION

from: you (21:18) Wht??

from: miya osamu (21:19) suna was supposed to confess to u today 

from: you (21:21) but shinsuke said rin already confessed

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:22) why wiud u ever think about takin gossip from KITA SHINSUKE AN WHYD YA BRING ME UP IM GNNA BE STONED AT DAWN

from: miya osamu (21:22) HOORAY !

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (21:22) SHUDDUP  

You bolt, again, but this time it’s out of your bed, down a flight of stairs, and through your front door. You’re halfway down the street near the Family Mart with the Good Sausages™ when you barrell into someone who smells faintly of blackberries and Suna’s laundry detergent. 

“Excuse me,” You blurt, scrambling away, until you feel a grip on your waist and a familiar shape behind you with a familiar smell and a familiar voice, and Ohmygod, you’re out of breath and close to frantic but Suna Rintarou is holding you steady by your waist, warm and tall and here. 

“Rintar-”

“I like you.”

You feel it more than you hear it- Suna is muffled and quiet as he mumbles into the back of your shoulder, tall frame folded into you. 

“Idiot.” He adds, and you don’t have to turn to know the tips of his ears are pink and his eyebrows are furrowed. “You’re an idiot.” 

It’s twilight, and just-barely humid when you realize that Suna Rintarou knows you. 

Suna knows that you ramble when you’re nervous. He knows that you like the rain and you don’t like humidity. You carry extra lead in your pencil pouch and you like volleyball and stray cats. You can bite into your ice cream. You color coordinate your bookshelves. You don’t have a crush on Kita Shinsuke. 

You don’t know that Suna keeps his digital camera with the shitty cracks because you bought it for him from a shop in Akihabara. You don’t know that Suna leaves his packs of pencil lead at home because leaning over your desk in class and seeing that smile on your face is far more fun. You don’t know that he writes with extra pressure on his worksheets to crack his lead and ask for more. 

You didn’t know that Suna Rintarou is in love with you. 

So he grins into your shoulder and tells you.  

amazing perfect miya atsexy (22:14) 1 Attachment GROSS!!!!!! do NOT start making out at practice or i will RESIGN !!!

sunarin (22:14) @ y/n lets start making out at practice

y/n, miya osamu, and 2 others reacted with Thumbs Up! ojiro aran, amazing perfect miya atsexy reacted with Thumbs Down!

from: amazing perfect miya atsexy (22:15)  @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE @ KITA SHINSUKE 

sunarin has removed amazing perfect miya atsexy from the Inarizaki Volleyball Team Chat. 

[bazelgeuce]

Is it just me or have boomer christians lost their minds

[starsandwriting]

Me listening to magp 8: What a fascinating spin on a Lonely statement that asks what if it was the Place that was lonely, so hungry that it desires to quite literally ea- WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK WHAT WHAT WHAT THE FUCKKK WHATTTTTT FUCKING WHAT WHAT COME AGAIN HUH WHAT FUCKING WH

[ID: Cartoony art of people who look comically shocked, terrified, and overwhelmed, with their eyes bugging out and their mouth open, sweating in shock and trembling. End ID]

[Plain text: Multiple variations of "What the fuck" and "come again" written in caps lock. End PT]

[Thank you to @princess-of-purple-prose and @ryutarotakedown for the id's :] I hope it's ok to merge the two!]

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

kisses over handshakes | s.r. x fem!reader

“who’s the new guy?”

jj turned to you before looking in the direction your eyes were focused on. standing outside hotch’s office was derek accompanied by a mystery guy, well he looked more like a boy. tall and lanky with a short haircut that was starting to grow past his ears and curl to his skin. he was wearing a short sleeved button up that looked a size or two bigger on him, practically swallowing him in the fabric, and he paired dark brown stacks for his office attire.

“that’s spencer reid. gideon helped bring him into the unit when he brought him in as an apprentice, also he’s a genius. graduated high school at twelve, has three phds, a 187 iq and can read fast and remember well. own our human internet.” jj listed off his qualifications for the job at- “how old is he?” “only twenty three.” boy genius indeed.

you followed behind jj as she walked towards the two, “hello boys. spencer i wanted to introduce you to y/n, she’s my assistant.” skirting you closer into his directions, teeth biting into your bottom lip from slight nerves.

“hi it’s a pleasure to meet you,” sticking out a waiting hand. spencer looked to your hand then directly into your eyes as he said, “the number of pathogens passed between a handshake is staggering it’s actually safer to kiss.” and you could tell he was completely serious.

so you shrugged, “okay,” and leaned in to peck his cheek. you saw how derek smiled widely as he shook his head, “told you someone would be bold enough to do it.” reaching out to flick at your shoulder, you swatted his hand away with a frown.

eyes back to spencer, his cheeks turned flushed and his mouth was opening and closing, eyes slightly bugged. “sorry, that was unprofessional of me.” apologizing for overstepping, not wanting him to hate you already.

“no- no it’s alright. just the first to do so, caught off guard.” he smiled nervously, lips quirked. “i- i wouldn’t mind if you- if you kept doing so.” rolling his lips once the sentence settled over the four of you, you smiled back at him.

“looks like you got an admirer, pretty girl.” derek pipped in snapping you from your staring contest with spencer’s profile. you just rolled your eyes to the older man, “guess i know how you feel now, playboy.”

jj pulled you along, “alright, well we have some cases to look over and i’m sure you two have paperwork to fill out, so we’ll see you later.”

“bye pretty ladies,” derek bid you goodbye. you waved at spencer over your shoulder and he held his hand up in reply. you chuckled quietly at his awkward nature.

“by the end of the year, i’m gonna date him.” sounding confident in your statement. you turned to jj and she furrowed her clean brows, “why not sooner?”

“cause i want him to ask me and i know it’s gonna be awhile, but im in it for the long game with boy genius. he’s a special one.”

[illubean]

Could I get headcanons for Feitan, Illumi, Leorio, and Chrollo falling for gn!reader who by all means seems like a strong, nuturing, emotionally stable individual but every once in awhile casually says or does smthin that makes people go "Oh you're a little fuckin nuts, actually"

(e.x.: Most of their D.I.Y. furniture is made of different kinds of bone, morbidly interested in the more gorey parts of their jobs, probably works in a field that allows them to be around the dead often like a taxidermist or a mortitian, highkey just unabashashedly a morbid little freak™️ whenever it comes up naturally in conversation but otherwise comes across as just an attentive lil guy you could bring home the average parents would love.)

HXH Men with a Morbid!S/o

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

this is so me

Warnings: dead things and body parts and stuff

Leorio Paladaknight

being an aspiring doctor, Leorio thought that your knowledge on both human and animal anatomy was pretty useful

at first he didn't think much about your job and just assumed you were some type of doctor or biologist or something

he often asks you questions as he studies and you're a pretty good tutor

the first time Leorio realized you were kinda weird is when one day you were walking down the street and saw some roadkill

and you were like "aww too bad, the skin and bones are too damaged to harvest"

and you kept walking like it was normal while he was like ?!!??!?

or you guys were having a normal conversation and you say something like

"if you died i'd taxidermy you and re-articulate your skeleton so you'd be with me forever <3"

1 taxidermizing humans is illegal and 2 WHAT

he is cold sweating wtf did he get himself into

when he comes to your house for the first time and sees a bunch of bones, animal skins and wet specimens he damn near passes the fuck out

how do you just casually have dead things and remains around your house!?

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE YOUR COFFEE TABLE OUT OF CAMEL BONES?

he is freaking the fuck out and you're just like "dw everything is ethically sourced :D"

yeah he thinks you're a freak and he is too fearful to break up with you ever (not like he was planning to anyways)

Illumi Zoldyck

whatever drew Illumi to you had to have been some type of power

aside from that power, to Illumi you were relatively normal and had a good grip on your emotions which made you a perfect candidate

that being said he could care less what your job was, you'd just end up working for or with him eventually

when he started bringing you around the estate, you often sought out their guard dog Mike and Illumi couldn't think of why

that is until you came back one day with a human femur and bright smile on your face

"... where did you even get that?" "From one of Mike's victims. If I collect enough I could make a whole set of bar stools!"

he blinked at you and chose to ignore your statement

i mean, to each their own am i right?

so you have ah hobby, big deal

Illumi just thinks you're pretty normal personality wise until you randomly but casually drop information about what you do in your free time or have in your home

so now whenever he has a job Illumi calls you in for cleanup

you get to do.... whatever it is you do and there's no evidence of a dead body left behind, it's a win win

Chrollo Lucilfer

he couldn't care less what your job is because it's probably not worse than his 😭

he didn't really notice anything "morbid" about you until he asked about your jewlery

you wore things like resin caster bug pendants or bird skull earrings and stuff

he just assumed they were fake and you bought them because they looked badass

but then you told him you make it all YOURSELF

he is intrigued

he doesn't really question you past that because you were probably buying the bones and stuff somewhere (spoiler alert you're not)

what really caused him to think was when you casually just picked up a dead rat off the floor in some abandoned building you were exploring and suck it in your pocket

bro was so confused

"What do you need that for?" "To make a new necklace :3"

yeah now he knows that your odd taste in jewelry goes deeper than just that

he won't judge you though, if anything you're a better person than he is considering you don't kill things yourself

he is literally a murderer and a thief and has committed like 3467633788 crimes so he couldn't judge even if he wanted to

so now when he sees dead animals and what not he bags them up and brings them to you

he likes to sit in on your cleaning and making process

you seem like a perfectly normal and sweet person to everyone else but Chrollo knows about your freaky little hobby and it just makes him like you even more

Feitan Portor

I feel like for you and Feitan to even be acquainted you have to be part of the troupe

whatever you do outside of it is your business

buttttttt since you are his s/o and Feitan is probably homeless he crashes wherever you are

thus him finding out about your hobby and other job

out of everyone on this list he is the most interested

he too is a morbid little freak

he goes with you to find things and will help you with the cleaning/taxidermy or whatever process if you let him

what he doesn't understand though is why you don't just kill the things you want instead of hunting for already dead things

sometimes he will go catch like a squirrel or something and bring it back to you like a cat and tell you he found it like that

Fei baby. No the fuck you didn't

after doing what you're doing for so long you can tell what caused an animal to die but you wouldn't tell him that

he's just so cute and wants to be supportive of your hobby <3

[seraphicsentences]

hii mamas, probably stupid since youve been writing less, but js incase can i req ellie swiping through an album of videos and photos of reader, but then her mood is instantly changed when she swipes to a sx recording thta she completely forgot about? miss youu 😔😔

i’m sorry baby ik i suck ive been reaaall busy lately so i haven’t had much time for writing but! here’s a short one. working through requests slowly but surely. enjoy!

thinking about loser!ellie turning pussy drunk for you, or rather, the thought of you, in seconds. bc when am i not thinking about loser!ellie?

loser!ellie, naturally, never leaves the house. why would she— when she has her savage starlight comics stacked up on her shelf, her xbox hooked up, locked and loaded with a never ending amount of games, and most importantly, you, to come over whenever she pleases.

except for now, unfortunately. you had gone out to see an old friend who was visiting in town, and ellie, trying her very best to be a respectful girlfriend, decided to stay in (against her wishes).

as the pathetic, attached, and adorable loser she was, she had resorted to scrolling through her compiled camera album of you, which you self- titled “the prettiest, coolest, smartest, awesomest girl ever. aka your wife.”

she laughed under her breath, shaking her head fondly at the statement as she continued to swipe through countless candids, selfies, and clips of you. her girl.

she couldn’t help but smile sweetly into the crook of her elbow, head falling sideways into her mussed bed as she relived her favorite moments with you, which was really actually every moment she spent with you.

after skimming through an 8 minute long video of the two of you trying, and failing, to kill a small bug on her bedroom wall, it’s safe to say ellie’s heart was warm, and filled to the brim.

the next video’s thumbnail doesn’t immediately draw up any memories of hers, a blurry view of what seems to be her wall of space posters, so she assumes it to be an accidental recording.

but it’s— 18 minutes long??

curiosity winning her over, ellie clicks on the video, a loading symbol popping up on the screen briefly before sounds of heavy breathing overtake the room.

bedsheets rustle in the background, as ellie watches what appears to be her own hand scrambling at the phone’s lens, propping it up on her bedside table.

the view is what can only be described as filthy. your back arching off the mattress, legs tied to opposite posts on the bed as you writhe, gasping for air as ellie holds a vibrator lush against your clit.

“ah! ellie!” you’re crying out, ankles twisting and pulling at the grasps their in.

present-day ellie’s face glows a deep red, her breathing already picking up as she watches the screen, entranced. her legs come together, squeezing, as she begins to rock her hips down into the bed ever-so-subtly, clit grazing the seam of her pants in reach for the smallest sparks of stimulation.

she had completely forgotten about this video, the post-sex exhaustion wiping it from her memory, but it served as quite the pleasant surprise for her pathetic loser!self now. she flips over onto her back.

heart pumping, she roams her fingers across her navel, dipping under her boxers as she stares at her past self humping greedily on one of your thighs, head thrown back. your hands were gripped on the meat of her hips, pushing her down harder against yourself as she continued to shakily rub the toy over you.

her soft whimpers intermingled with your pleading moans to form an addicting symphony— ellie biting down on her lip as the tip her finger brushes over her pulsing clit.

“ellie, please, need your fingers,” you whine in the current scene.

“you got ‘em,” she hears herself husk out.

ellie groans, her finger twitching down involuntarily to press harder into her needy, puffy clit.

“fuck,” she swears under her breath, head falling back into a pillow as she fucks her hips up harder against her hand. her jaw drops open, head spinning as she pleads for your touch. simply yearning like the fucking loser she is, whimpering your name over and over again as she pants out heavily.

video-ellie has now ditched the vibrator, fucking her fingers messily into your weeping pussy as you raise a hand up to cup her heat.

“gonna let me stuff you up, els?” you ask, half-lidded with a surprisingly cocky smirk for the amount you’re dripping down your thighs.

“please,” ellie cries now, in sync with her recorded whines as she replicates your motions, a halfhearted attempt to relive the eye-rolling experience.

you, or she finally slides two fingers in, curling them impatiently to rub over that one spot that has her whispering, “please mommy.”

the phone falls onto the mattress, filthy sounds still playing in the background as ellie clutches the bedsheets instead, twisting them for dear life. her fingers thrust more rapidly now, sounds of her slick filling the air as she spreads her legs eagle-wide to reach even deeper.

how pathetic she is. this wet from just a video recording? this desperate for your touch? she’s nearing her finish already, beating past-her, which from the sound of it, seems to be getting edged.

her fingers jam harder into her g-spot, little uh-uh-uh’s slipping out from between her lips with the movement. ellie’s other hand scrambles for her thrown phone, dazedly clicking your contact and thumb searching for the audio recording option.

she can’t hold it anymore, legs kicking and squirming as she tries to get her words out.

“m-iss y-you real, real- fuck- bad. mmph please- need you ho-home n-ow, babe, g-gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum,” she rambles, her voice getting higher as she gets more lost in the sensations.

her back flies off the bed, hips bucking animalistically as she chants your name loudly, fingers still moving at lightning speed.

“miss you,” she whines quietly now, catching her breath and pouting as she slides her fingers out of her raw pussy, before hitting send with her not cum-coated hand.

yes this was short asf. n what about it? i banged it out in a zoooooom. ;)

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141 sweet moment (or sexy or both!)

First I Love You

Honey bug, if you give me the option to be sweet, sexy, or both...you know I'm choosing both. When given the option, I will always write smut. ALWAYS! It's mostly because I'm constantly horny and thinking about these men but, ya know. I did my best to give a little variety in the level of sweetness and sexiness. Some of it is really soft and some of it is straight up feral. So. Do with that what you will, friend.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, mentions of parenthood, breeding, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, rough sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, possessiveness, admission of feelings, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You laugh, a bit startled.

Kyle freezes, his lips slightly parted as his brain catches up with the words that have just fallen from his mouth. “Did I?” he asks slowly.

“You did,” you affirm, your stomach now in knots.

There is no sickness festering in your tummy, and there is no fear there either. You are floating. Cloud-like. But all twisted up without an end to the tangle. For months now, you’ve been waiting to hear those three little words from Kyle.

This thing between the two of you started easy. Late night fucks to overnight stays to grabbing breakfast the morning after. From there came Sunday afternoon naps and small dates to a café or coffeeshop.

Small, but evolving. Morphing. Transforming from caterpillar to fluttering butterfly.

All this time, you believed you would be the one to say those three little words first. That they might accidentally slip from your lips unexpectedly and chase Kyle away. You have held the desire between your heart and ribcage as if the feeling were a physical organ.

But the words have been said. By Kyle.

Which means you can say them, too.

“I did,” he says, agreeing with the statement. Kyle’s shoulders relax as if all the tension has gone out of them.

A risk of an idea blooms in your mind. It’s a chance, and maybe asking might sabotage everything, but you want to push the boundary a bit—figure out where the two of you will go from here.

“Could you say it again?” you ask, clasping your hands in front of you demurely.

“Yeah,” chuckles Kyle. “I can do that.”

Guiding his arm to your back, Kyle pulls you close, hand resting against your hip. His brow softens, and his head tilts forward, the tip of his nose lightly brushing along your own. Lingering, Kyle’s lips part, and his tongue teases the underside of his top lip as if he’s thinking about your mouth.

He leans closer.

“I love you.”

It is a whisper. Wispy like thin paper. A few seconds of air that feel like an infinite expanse of stars.

You inhale from the repeated words. Kyle takes that inhalation to closes the distance. It is utterly sweet—like a cherry sucker that stains your teeth and tongue.

You meet him with equal need, only seeking closeness, to feel his warmth everywhere. These kisses are slow and languid and effortless. They come easy, as if the two of you have always done this. As if your lips were made for each other’s.

You reach up to cradle the side of his face. The moment your skin makes contact with Kyle’s, he lets out a little groan of sweetness. There is only heat under your palm. It flows outward and into you until you’re burning like him.

This small sound spurs you to further again. Your hand slides to the back of his neck for a better grip. With fingers digging into his nape, you urge the kisses to deepen, switching from a languid caress to a desperate need that has Kyle’s hand tightening against your hip.

All the kisses that come next are passion-laced. Kyle’s lips part and you tentatively tease him with the tip of your tongue. A low groan comes from somewhere deep in his throat, and then Kyle is forcing your head back, consuming you completely until the two of you finally break apart to breathe.

It is momentary. A brief pause.

Because Kyle’s lips return to your skin with lips, teeth, and tongue. It is not just your mouth that is worshipped but the edge of your jaw and the curve of your ear. His hands roam everywhere, squeezing and grasping until they’re full of you.

“Love you so much,” he breathes where your neck meets your shoulder.

He nips there, and then he is pulling back your top to lick at the top of your breast.

“Kyle,” you groan.

“I want to hear you say it back,” he growls, tugging more of your shirt down. “Say it back, love.”

Kyle gives your shirt a final tug, revealing a nipple. He teases it. Brings it into his mouth. Your back arches, pressing your hips against his. Head falling back, you run your fingers up his neck to grasp the back of his head.

The only response you receive is a quick shift of Kyle’s body. Taking you with him, Kyle draws you to the bed, guiding you to your back.

With the tips of his fingers grazing over your inner thigh, Kyle drapes himself over your body, his other hand pressing into the bed next to your head.

“Say it back.”

There is desperation in his tone, and you indulge him completely.

“I love you too, Kyle.”

He is pleased. Electric. There is nothing that will separate him from you. Every article of clothing is removed and tossed aside. Legs spreading wide to accommodate him, Kyle slides home, sinking into your warmth, moaning loudly when he’s fully inside.

John Price

“I know what I want.”

“Do you, John?”

John steps out from around the kitchen island, striding toward you with purpose in every step. “I know you doubt sometimes,” he begins, and you scoff, glancing away.

John grasps the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. The touch is dominating but it isn’t painful. There just isn’t anywhere to go but to move into his embrace.

“I’m not that young recruit anymore that enjoyed fucking you at my convenience.” John’s hold on your neck tightens a bit, drawing you even closer against his chest. “I’m older now. I want to settle down. I know what I want.”

“And what is it that you want?” you ask.

The two of you have been together forever, but you’ve never heard Price utter the words “I love you.” You don’t know why but you have your suspicions. There were times when you thought there might be someone else, but now that John’s moved up in the ranks, you believe it might come from a place of uncertainty.

You never know when he’s going to come home. But oftentimes John doesn’t know either.

“I want you. No one else.”

“John,” you breathe, attempting to shake out of his grasp.

“No,” he growls. “Listen to me.”

“I am,” you snap, slightly irritated.

You’ve heard this all before. And maybe you should go. Pack yourself up along with your daughter you share with him. It would hurt—especially her, but you need something concrete. Solid.

“I love you.”

It’s almost a growl at it comes out of him. He sounds more animal than human, as if the words need to be said before he transforms into anything other than himself. Then, John’s grip on your neck softens, becoming a caress. You lean into it, eyelids closing slightly as his thumb runs over the front of your throat.

“I love you,” he repeats, this time much softer. A sweet song—or wine that goes down easy.

“I love you,” he says again, lips brushing against yours.

You’re melting like butter spread across warm bread. His voice is husky now. Needy. Heat pools in your core and your pussy slickens in anticipation.

“I don’t say it enough.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it,” you reply immediately.

You expect hurt in his gaze, but there is none.

“Then I need to remedy that,” he murmurs.

John’s hand drops away from your throat and then he’s placing you on the kitchen island. Forcing up your shirt and removing your shorts, John makes quick work of removing your underwear, giving him full access to your body.

“How much time do we have?” he rasps, dragging you to the edge, his fingers sliding over your pussy to part you wider.

You fall back onto your elbows and glance at the clock. “She’ll be home from school in fifteen.”

“Good,” growls John just as he sinks a finger inside.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, head tipping back as his thumb brushes soft circles around your clit. He’s not touching it directly, but the tease of the indirect contact causes your walls to clench around him.

“I love you,” says John, pumping steadily, inserting a second finger as his thumb drags over your clit.

“I love you,” he repeats as the first orgasm crests.

It’s all he says, repeating the words until his voice is a mantra in your mind, and his fingers are gone, replaced by his cock that has your back arching. You’re thankful for the marble beneath you, and its strength as you grip the edge.

John grunts over you, his “I love you” becoming slurred and wispy.

At some point you repeat it back, clinging onto those three little words as much as John does. Even after he’s come inside you, John has you back on your feet, dragging you into the bedroom for another round before both of you have to fall into parental duty.

But even that is a distant thought in your head.

You’re only thinking of John, and the worship of his love as he devours the altar that is your body.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You’re taking my cock like this or not at all.”

You whimper, popping your hips, presenting your pussy to Simon. You’re reward with a quick, light slap. Skin meets skin, your wetness apparent and loud in the room when Simon makes contact. You jerk slightly from shock, and then the bed is sinking beneath you as Simon settles between your legs.

With arms crossed, you rest your head on your forearms, awaiting Simon’s claiming. His hands roam everywhere. Touching everything until your skin is alight with need and your pussy is so fucking slick you know he’s going to slide right in.

“Please,” you whimper.

“So needy. I love you like this.”

Simon’s hands run up the backs of your thighs and settle on your ass. His hands are full of you, and then he’s squeezing. Striking. Slapping. The skin smarting under each blow.

“Your body is fucking mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to pleasure.”

One hand roams upward, curling around the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, fingers digging into bone. The head of Simon’s cock rubs back and forth through your slickness and then he’s notching himself at your entrance, plunging inside without pretense.

There is nothing sweet about this. Simon is all roughness, fucking you into the bed until you feel an ache in your bones.

You cling to the bedding, hands fisting the sheet as Simon uses you for himself. It’s not like you don’t like this. You enjoy it. You enjoy his need for ownership and possession.

You are lost to it, but then Simon yanks your right out.

He drapes himself over your back, one hand planted just above your head for support while the other wraps around your throat. Simon pauses in his thrusts for only a moment before he’s at it again. This angle is deeper, and it rips strained moan after strained moan from you.

“All mine,” he growls. “This pussy is all mine. Gonna fucking breed you, yeah? Fill you with my cum.”

Simon whispers these words into your ear like his relentless thrusting doesn’t faze him at all.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like this. My good slut. My perfect girl.”

Simon presses his face to the side of your head. Your brain is lifting. Floating away.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Love you so much.”

That last part—that last little bit—reshapes you. The orgasm grows hot and fast and then you’re squeezing hard around Simon’s cock.

His groan is chocked, hips stuttering, and then you feel the warmth of his cum flooding your pussy.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Every muscle is languid and loose.

Your pussy aches—but not from pain. Johnny is needy, and he’s been ravenous, fucking you all over his flat. You’ve lost count of the orgasms. Each one moving into the other until it feels like a continuous waterfall of pleasure.

Every touch of Johnny’s is overly sensitive. Your body twitches underneath him, crackling with an electric energy that brings tears to yours. Sweat clings to your skin and his. Each thrust and slap of skin is slick.

“Fuck, Johnny. I—I can’t. No more. Please.”

Johnny’s chest heaves a bit. He’s clearly inching toward exhaustion. But when has that ever stopped him.

“One more, love. Come here.”

Johnny’s arms go around you, pulling you into his lap.

Even though every limb is screaming in protest, your senses spark again when his hard cock rubs against your pussy, the head brushing along the edge of your clit. You clench around nothing, and a little shiver travels up your spine.

Johnny’s mouth trails over the skin of your throat, his tongue taking up a bit of the moisture.

“Wrap your legs around me. Best you can.”

You do as Johnny instructs, and then his hands slide under your ass, lifting enough that the head of his cock finds your pussy. Slowly, Johnny brings you down on him inch by inch until you’re perfectly stretched again.

Once you’re completely seated on his cock, Johnny adjusts his grip, grasping your hips. With gentle guidance, Johnny urges your hips to rock slightly. His own imitate the same motion. The two of you meet repeatedly.

Each rock of your hips forces Johnny deeper. You moan, head tilting back, but Johnny grasps the nape of your neck.

“Look at me,” he croons, fingers digging into your skin, the small hairs there catching under his touch.

Your eyelids are heavy with lust but you manage, seeking that gorgeous gaze you know so well. Johnny’s arms adjust, supporting more of your back as the two of you rock. It’s languid, but nice. Different from the earlier rounds when Johnny just needed to be inside you in whatever way you’d allow it.

Johnny’s arm tightens as you drape yours around his neck.

It’s easier to lean forward, resting your forehead against his. Breaths are exchanged. Lips brushing but not really kissing.

With the next set of thrusts, Johnny shivers. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Fucking love you.”

At first, you don’t hear him clearly, the haze of pleasure sitting heavy. But your mind begins to clear as it processes what he just said.

“Johnny—”

“Love you so much,” he groans softly, stealing your lips before you can protest.

It’s the first time. The very first, and yet you don’t completely believe it.

“Oh, fuck. Hell,” gasps Johnny, giving in to whatever he’s after by tipping you toward the bed, putting you on your back.

Your legs automatically spread wider and then Johnny is fucking you completely, draped over you like a protective cocoon.

Love you,” he murmurs into your ear.

It repeats with each thrust.

And then you’re saying it, too.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @no-oneelsebutnsu @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction

@weasleytwins-41 @nommingonfood @saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67

@sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81

@azkza @nishim @voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @haven-1307 @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @cod-z

@keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter

@dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld @umno-yeah @daemondoll

@jackrabbitem @lxblm @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @ash-tarte

[scififettuccine]

maybe a frenchie x supe!reader? there’s not enough frenchie fics out there! like maybe they don’t get along but they’re forced to work together?

A Wild Fix: Part 1

Pairing: Frenchie x Reader

Summary: You, Wild Card, a 27 year old Supe newly signed by Vought, are recruited by Billy Butcher following an incident in Vought Tower. With the help of The Boys, you vow to destroy the corrupt system that wronged so many. But will your mission be tainted by your constant bickering with one of your new team members?

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Violence, drug use, Homelander (Obviously), mentions of drug use, questionable French

Notes: I absolutely LOVED this request. I slept on it once I saw it because I had so many ideas and I didn't know where to start...but my goal is going to be a 3-5 part series! I'm going to try my best to keep each part under 2k, maybe 1.5k each? No gender was specified in the request so I'm gonna keep it as a GN reader!

From the outside...Vought as a whole seemed like the shiny pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that every Supe had striven for since the company's creation. But you? You knew the truth. Only 24 hours into your career as a member of The Seven, you had been subjected to more violence than you expected from a group that was supposedly supposed to save people. Your first meeting with the rest of the group had gone south quickly once you questioned one of Homelanders statements, and stood your ground when he told you to back down. Before you could even blink, you were pinned against the wall, with a firm hand pressed against your neck, constricting your breathing. In that moment, you understood that being compliant was the only thing that would secure your status as living. So that's what you did, you nodded your head and said “yes sir.” Needless to say, you left that room with the fear of god, no, the fear of The Homelander, choked into you…But you knew you couldn’t sleep here. So you booked a hotel room for the night, hoping maybe the receptionist wouldn't notice the bruises on your neck.But while you walked there, tears streaming down your cheeks as you hugged yourself to keep the cool night air out of your jacket, you were approached by a man named Billy Butcher. The two of you had a lengthy conversation outside of the hotel regarding the truth behind Homelander, The Seven, and Vought as a whole. Then he made you an offer you couldn’t refuse: a chance to get back at Homelander. A chance to bring yourself justice, as well as bring justice to the others he had hurt in his desperate pursuit of ultimate power. Of course…you agreed. 

You had kept in touch with Butcher the following week on a burner phone he had given you, knowing that Vought had most likely bugged all of your personal technology…and on your next day off? You met him at a location that was unknown to you, one you would soon come to be familiar with. As he ushered you down the wooden stairs of the unknown building, you weren't met with the most reassuring of environments. Drug paraphernalia, along with various illegal weapons, and full ammo boxes littered the expanse of the rather unwelcoming looking hideout. You stopped at the bottom step and pointed to a literal stack of plastic bags containing what you could only assume was coke.

“That’s…” you swallowed, “That’s coke.” Butcher, who had been guiding you down the stairs with his hand on your lower back, laughed and shook his head.

“That’s right, love. Bags of coke.” Billy said with a small chuckle as he patted your back and stepped onto the broken concrete floor of the basement, greeting the others that inhabited the space. The first person you noticed was a rather lengthy looking young man who looked to be around the same age as you with slightly curly brown hair. Admittedly, you thought he dressed like a twelve year old. He was seated on a questionable looking couch, next to an older man with a bigger build and a darker complexion…who looked like he could snap you in half with little to no effort. Your gaze then flickered further into the room, and your gaze landed on a man who was around the same height as you. Not exactly tall…but not short either. The man in question had a buzz cut, a piercing on his left ear, and was wearing an orange and black tie-dyed shirt, along with cargo pants. He was seated on one of the tables that housed various pieces of drug paraphernalia, and was seemingly using a business card to arrange lines of coke on the back of an old phone book that sat on his lap.

“Well boys…here they are. This is Y/N L/N.” Butcher interrupted your silent evaluation as he addressed the room. He walked back to your side and put a hand on your shoulder, moving to point to the younger man on the couch. “That poor bastard there is Hughie,” he moved to the man next to him, “that's MM,” and finally…he pointed to the man sitting on the table. “That’s Frenchie.” Frenchie pulled his head away from the phonebook, white power dusted on his nose.

“Bonjour-” He said, cutting himself off with a sniffle as he wiped the coke from his nose. Oh, that's why they called him Frenchie. You narrowed your eyes, the greetings of the two other men falling on deaf ears as you looked Frenchie over. Clearly something important had been said during the duration of your staring, because you were knocked out of your thoughts by a firm nudge to the shoulder by Butcher.

“Oi, Hellen Keller! Are you up for it or not?” Butcher asked. He realized you hadn’t heard him and narrowed his eyes with a sigh. “We’re going to meet up with an info plug…You can either come or stay here with Frenchie.” You sort of just panicked and blurted out an answer, not wanting to ask any dumb questions about the info plug.

“I’ll stay…with uh, Frenchie.” You said. As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You weren’t an overly judgy person, you really weren't…but you couldn’t help but feel a bit of trepidation regarding staying alone with a man who had done coke off the back of a dirty phone book within the first minute of you meeting him. Butcher smirked when he saw the look of regret on your face.

“Right then. We’ll be back, love.” He said, gesturing for Hughie and MM to follow him out. “Make yourself at home.” With that, the three made their way up the stairs, leaving you alone with Frenchie. You took the moment of awkward silence that followed them leaving to look around the basement, your feet glued to the floor of course. The walls of the space were composed of a skeleton made of wooden posts, which were filled in with a mixture of red brick, and the same color of concrete that the floor was made of. The walls in question were littered with spray painted tags of many different colors, most of which you couldn’t read, due to the fact that they were in a different language, but they were oddly beautiful nonetheless. The lighting in the room, just a few hanging light bulbs, added to the strange ambiance of the room.

“You are Wild Card…Yes?” The silence was broken by Frenchie, who was still sitting on the table, but now facing your direction. You turned to him and nodded, albeit awkwardly.

“Yeah…Yeah. That's me. Just call me Y/N, though.” You said, trying your best to give a convincing smile.

“Y/N…” He nodded as he repeated your name, “Oui. A good name.” He looked at you for a moment, almost waiting for you to respond. When you didn't, he pursed his lips and blinked. “Remind me, Y/N…What are your powers exactly?” You sighed when he asked that. It was always strange explaining what exactly your powers were.

You were called Wild Card for a reason. While you were powerful…using your powers was sort of like playing a game of russian roulette, only with the gun pointed towards the other person. You could do a multitude of different things, along with the constant of your strength, speed, and agility. You could create different balls of explosive matter, you could manipulate and use the moisture present in the air for multiple different attacks, along with a few other niche things. The problem was…you never knew which would happen beforehand. All you could go off was the feeling you felt in your palms. You weren’t exactly the most reliable Supe abilities wise…but every one of your random attacks was extremely powerful, making you a good person to throw into the mix if things aren't going well for the rest of your team, which is why you were a valuable member to add to The Seven.

“Uhm…Have you ever played Uno before? Like the card game?” You asked. Frenchie nodded. “Well it’s kinda like when you put a wild card down in Uno, and you get to pick a color…Except you pick the color blindly.” Frenchie sort of stared at you for a moment, before he started laughing. You tensed up when you heard him laugh, but you tried to laugh along, due to the fact that you couldn’t tell if he was laughing with you or at you. “Forgive me, mon cher-” He stifled a laugh before continuing, “that is the silliest thing I've ever heard.” At that comment, you frowned, taking a step back even though you were across the room from each other.

“Silly? It’s not silly at all…I’m pretty powerful, all things considered-”

“But you just use it blindly?” He asked with a chuckle. “What happens when you want to shoot a fireball or something, but you summon a child’s teddy to your hand instead?” That ticked you off. Who the hell was he to insult your powers? He was a druggie, and didn't even have any.

“How can you sit there and insult me when you were doing lines off the back of a 30 year old phonebook when I walked in?” You asked, your words coming out a bit more spiteful than you had intended. Frenchie narrowed his eyes, but tried to shake off his anger. He wasn’t fond of fighting with people over small things, especially not when intoxicated. 

“Ah…I see…” He said with a chuckle that you could only describe as pathetic, “All Supes really do have an ego, don't they?” He asked, hopping off the table he was sitting on.

“Hey! You've known me for five minutes and you're already making assumptions about me?” You balled your fists and took an accusatory step forward. Frenchie raised a brow.

“And I’m safe to assume that you’ve already painted this image of me in your head like some sort of druggie asshole?” Damn. He got you with that one. But alas…You were too prideful to let him have the last word. You scoffed.

“Maybe I’ll change my opinions when you’ve done something other than do drugs and laugh at me.” You said with a roll of your eyes. You weren't a conflictive person…But the last few days had been long and hard, so you couldn't exactly help it.

“Ditto, mon amour.” He said, his face painted with an absolutely infuriating smirk.

“Fuck you.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know nothing about me.”

“Eh bien, va te faire foutre toi aussi.” He said, almost matter-of-factly, mocking your current stance. You didn’t speak French, but you could only assume he had said something insulting back. Well, fuck you too. You were about to spit something back, but thankfully, Butcher came walking back down the wooden stairs, an eyebrow raised.

“Everything's alright down here, love?” He asks, the look on his face a mix between suspicion and curiosity. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine.” You said, your tone strained. Butcher then looked over to Frenchie, who simply gave a thumbs up before leaning down to do another line off the phonebook. You huffed and rolled your eyes. You were too exhausted to say anything else.

The nerve of this man.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think it's safe to say this mini series is going to be lots of fun! I love Frenchie as a character, and it was really fun to come up with a fun Supe persona for the reader! I hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for part 2! I'm also working on a taglist form so keep an eye out for that! Adieu!

Masterlist

[cassandraclare]

q&a

Alexa: Will we ever get to hear about Tessa's time in the Spiral Labyrinth? I think that would be so cool. 2) Why does Jem always say that the Carstairs owe the Herondales? I know that Jem feels that Will saved him when he was a child, but Jem saved will just as much as Will saved Jem. I'm curious if you have any more thoughts on that, like if it is just part of Jem's personality that he feels so keenly that he owes Will.

Sure, Jem saved Will just like Will saved Jem, but that isn't going to make Jem feel like he owes Will less, because indeed, that's not his personality (or Will's — Will would say the Herondales owe the Carstairs.) For Jem, this is a very pure feeling, that he will always owe this debt to Will and to the Herondales, and even though he wouldn't deny he also saved Will, he wouldn't qualify the statement — "The Carstairs owe the Herondales, though, you know, the Herondales also owe the Carstairs and so it's basically even but I'd still like to help out" because it would undercut the strength of his conviction. None of that means he doesn't know he did a lot for Will and Will's family too! As to whether there's more to Jem's belief that the Carstairs owe the Herondales than the obvious, we will have to see.

Anonymous:  THE SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES. I SEE YOU HAVE WICKED POWERS IN THE WORKS (NOT SOON ENOUGH).... FOLLOWING KIT HERONDALE AFTER 2012 ERA BUT HERES MY QUESTION.... YOU HAVE ALL THIS GAP BETWEEN THE LAST HOURS SET IN 1900S UNTIL THE 2000S WITH THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS. WE, AS FANS DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE CARSTAIRS ETC, SUCH AS AFTER CHAIN OF THORNS.... ...... YOU HAVE MANY MANY MANY GAPS HERE TO BE TRYING TO END THE SERIES..... SOOOO MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS WITH THE CHARACTERS. (AND YES IVE READ EVERY SINGLE BOOK).

Ack, the caps! Hello, friend. It is true that not every moment of every day of every decade has been described in a series, but that is fairly normal! We don't know exactly what transpires between Last Hours and Mortal Instruments (though we have many hints in the various short story collections, especially where it comes to the time of the Circle) — nor do we know what, for instance, was happening in the New York Institute during The Infernal Devices. With a big universe, you're never going to know what's happening in every place at every time. There will always be gaps; it's neither a bug nor a feature, more a natural consequence of the format.

I totally understand being like, "The Shadowhunter world cannot end with Wicked Powers, there are more stories to tell" but — whenever it all ended — there would always be more stories to tell.

princeash asked:

Hi Cassie!! So excited by the announcement! My question is, are we getting a Ash pov in tlkof?and could we maybe get a snippet of him 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 (also, I'm very happy about finally getting a release date and i dont mind waiting because i know you'll make it worth the wait!! 🤎)

Hello! We are not getting Ash's POV in TLKOF, unless something major changes. Ash is a bit of a mysterious figure for quite a while. Figuring out what makes him tick and what he's really up to is part of the fun. Also I'm working on not overwhelming people with so many POVs. :)

[luxtrys]

ride cowgirl

you take control in bed and anakin can't handle himself (18+, smut)

"you want to what?" anakin asked, not really paying attention to your words, his eyes still glued to his book. "i-i want to take control in bed ani" you said, raising your voice from a barely audible whisper to a slightly louder tone.

he doesn't even turn to you at your claim, chuckling softly "that's real funny bug" you huffed, he wasn't taking you seriously at all. you moved quickly so that you were sitting between his legs that were spread out on the bed, staring at him as he didn't even move to look at you.

you wrapped your fingers around the top of his book, pulling it back softly so he had to look up at you. anakin seems to pay attention to you now, watching you with a bored expression. "im being serious ani, i think id be good at it" you stated as he brought his hand up to your head and tuck a piece of loose hair behind your ear. "good at what baby?"

you rolled your eyes at his question, does he ever listen?

"good at being in charge, you know, all bossy and controlling." you pouted as he raised his eyebrows suggestively "i am not bossy and controlling" anakin answered, clearly not believing the words coming out of his own mouth as he played with the hem of your sundress.

you narrowed your eyes at his claim, causing him to sigh. "please ani, please, please, please. I promise ill do good!" once you see him roll his eyes and sigh, you know you've cracked him.

and that's how you ended up straddling his toned shirtless waist, only clad in your panties as you peppered kisses softly down his chest. he stared at you as you got to his v line, his cock standing tall and oozing with pre-cum.

"you ready ani? remember your safe word alright?" he tried to mask his chuckle at your statement, ticking his jaw to the side. "yes baby, i remember the safe word, think i'm gonna have to use it?"

you shrugged at him, extremely distracted by his massive cock merely inches from your face. you placed a small kiss to the base, leaning your head on his inner thigh as you pumped him up and down slowly.

you heard him inhale sharply, restraining himself from grabbing your head and shoving your throat all the way down his cock until you gag. he watched the thoughts spin in your head as you left one last kiss on the tip of his dick, shifting around so your entrance was now in line with his cock.

he groaned as he entered you, your walls so impossibly tight around him. you lowered down slowly on him, squeezing your eyes shut at how fucking massive he is. you had to brace yourself with your hands on his chest as he bottomed out inside of you, hitting places that made you whine. you lifted your hips up slightly, you knew that neither of you could handle him that deep inside without cumming in two seconds, though he would never admit it.

you looked at anakin with impatience, waiting for the feeling of his death grip on your sides as he helped you ride him, but it never came "ani, what're doing?" you asked, feeling impossibly full and needing to move. "what do you mean princess? you're moving us. you're in charge."

"o-oh, right." you squeaked, taking a second to breathe and ground yourself before slightly lifting your hips up and slamming back down. you never thought it would be so hard to ride ani without his hands guiding your body and lifting more than half of your weight above him, but then again, you had never thought you were ever going to be in control.

your thighs burned as you lifted yourself up for the third time, refusing to look at anakin's smirking face at your restlessness. you nearly felt bad for anakin in the moment, you didn't even realize how much hard work went into being in charge.

you don't have nearly as much stamina as anakin does, and it showed through your now shaky thighs and unstable strokes of your hips. "goin' a bit slow baby, are we getting tired already?" you didn't even have to look at him to see the cocky smile on his face. not ready to admit to him that you were wrong, an idea popped in your head.

you felt him twitch inside of you as you sat balls deep on his cock, rocking forward so there was no part of his dick that wasn't buried in you. he snapped his head your way, parting his lips softly and taking a deep breath. you didn't move for what felt like hours, which in reality was only a few seconds, your walls squeezing him nearly out of you.

"oh so you want to play dirty bunny?" he asked, moving his hands quickly to your ass and landing a sharp smack to your skin before kneading the area. "i don't know what your talking about ani." you stated, trying not to show how close you were to moving so you didn't explode from pleasure.

"god, you're such a fucking brat" he spat, taking your wrist in his hand and twisting your arm so it was behind your back, pushing your body so you were now laying on his chest. you let out a moan as he started slamming into you at a ruthless pace, his strokes deep and uncontrolled.

"is this what you wanted angel? for me to lose my fucking mind?" he asked, knowing in your mushy state that you couldn't give him an answer that wasn't unintelligible babbles or moans. he took his free hand and grabbed your chin, lifting your head up so you had to look at his face as he fucks you.

he watched you flutter your eyes shut, biting your lip and going limp in his arms. he knew that face. you were about to cum, and hard. "come on baby, give it to me. you got it, i got you" he chanted, his strokes turning sloppy as he was nearly at his breaking point.

"atta girl, that's my pretty girl" he sighed as you came around him, falling into his body as you felt his load empty out into you. "a-ani" you whimpered, coming down from your immense high as you both made no move to let his dick slip out of you. "yeah baby?" he answered, wiping your hair away from your face softly.

"i love you" you spoke. he smiled down at you, god you were just so sweet, especially after he just destroyed you on his cock. "I love you too princess. did so good for me, always do" letting out a content sight as he kissed the crown of your head, you heard his voice again.

"hey baby?" he asked, running his hands up and down your back with a soft touch. you hummed at his question, inviting him to speak.

"never ask to be in fucking charge again, or you won't like what will happen next."

[weepingtalecowboy]

Fanfiction prompt: considering that wind can see ghosts but instead of hiding it he thinks that everyone can see them because everyone has dealt with supernatural forces

Main while the chain is freaking out because wind keeps talking to nobody and telling them that their his friends or the most unhinged statement he is enemies with the stripes guy who always stands menacingly in a corner trying to be cool (fierce deity)

And the chain starts to worry about wind badly because that is not sane behavior

While another part of the chain (particularly twilight) doesn’t take it THIS seriously because he remembers how Colin spent weeks complaining about his imaginary friend not playing with him and that children can be imaginative especially when bored and that only making him a new toy got him to play with his friend again

And that ends up in the chain thinking that wind must be incredibly bored because they walk all day and not letting him explore and play with bugs and they decided to fix it (but quickly realized that they are in the middle of a forest with nothing particularly interesting)

Wind main while has absolutely no idea what to do with the hand made toy lobster (legend definitely can sew like have you seen him and the ton of outfits he has) or the Fact that Wolfie seems particularly persistent to play fetch ..!.,?! What is going on!? (Twilight quickly realized that he is dog shaped and he also feels extremely guilty that wind is only walking with them)

But also he definitely can’t throw it away because the legend clearly put effort into the thing and he does love lobsters

And he would rather die than let the chance pass to play with Wolfie (that guy never has fun and nobody can make him play anything and the look of pure envy from Wild was totally worth it he is Wolfie's new favorite now , screw you wild)

But unfortunately that one extra toy seems to do nothing about Wind's insistence to talk with walls

And Wolfie tries really really hard to be more interesting than the walls ( he is failing because ghosts will always be more interesting )

The second they enter a town every single link with money goes to ransack the entire town for toys

And wind catches on about their concerns with his mental state and realizes that explaining them how he can see ghosts would probably confirm to them he is crazy

He awkwardly takes the toys and rearranges them in a way that every ghost is next to a toy so that the chain can stop complaining about him because now he has the excuse that he is totally talking to his toys and not any other beings or voices or walls

The chain is happy because they can almost always see him talk to the toys and play with them (the dread they feel when he keeps naming them after dead loved ones of them is something but maybe it is just a coincidence)

Then they catch him playing a game and it’s just the lobster who apparently is named after legend and the bird who he named Marin (Wind was totally only re-enacting Marin's story because he is definitely an adult and only doing the logical thing)

Time later sees him with Wild's majora’s mask (that sits with its face turned like it’s trying not to look at someone) while Wind keeps talking about a big guy with stripes on his face and how he tried to be cool when defeating the demon (war flashbacks activated because that stripes guy seems very familiar)

And legend gets an aneurysm because that lobster story strikes way to close to home for him

They take way to long to figure out in this one (they are the heroes of courage not wisdom afterall)

[cryptidghostgirl]

Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Wife!Reader

Description: Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

Warnings: Cannon typical violence and angst. Also uh,, not healthy. (The end is kinda fucked up)

Word Count: 2,411

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n slid the dark mask over her face, jiggling it slightly to make sure it had clicked properly into place. She had never wanted to be an exorcist, hated the very thought. When she had been alive, she was the type of human who felt bad about accidentally stepping on bugs. If she had had any other choice, she would’ve taken it but she didn’t and so Y/n tried her best to detach herself from the experience.

Exorcists were a handpicked group by Adam. If you weren’t one, you didn’t know about them and if you knew about them, you were fucked. Y/n’s entire existence in the peaceful afterlife had been turned on its head when she’d been chosen. Pulled out of normal day to day and pushed into harsh, year round training. There was nothing nice about it and nothing she could do. No one listened to a thing she said, not even Sera. Sometimes, Y/n caught herself wishing she’d just been sent to Hell instead.

There was, however, one small benefit to these yearly trips. While it was a pain to act like she was being more violent than she was on the field, a constant terror in her life that Adam and Lute would find out she’d been letting demons go, it also gave her the opportunity to search.

Y/n had been married in life. Her husband had been a criminal, one of the worst, something she hadn’t learned until after his death. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from loving him. Every day on earth she’d lived without him by her side had been abysmal. No other love was quite like his love.

When she had first arrived in Heaven, Y/n had searched everywhere for him. There had been no luck. It had been a foolish hope, she knew: looking for a serial killer among the blessed but, she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to hear him explain, wanted to understand. Most of all, though she tried not to think about this part, she wanted to give him a kiss. To throw her arms around his neck with abandon the way she did when they were young. She wanted to hear his voice, have him tell her he still loved her too and mean it. She wanted to know she hadn’t wasted her life, her one chance at a living love.

The gates opened and Y/n dove through with the hundreds of other exorcists. Their game was underfoot, their cat and mouse sadistic chase. For Y/n? The search was on.

----

Alastor watched as the exorcist descended upon him. He was feeling brave and stupid, empowered after his near win against Vox just a few weeks before. Cracking his knuckles, he wondered what the exorcist’s voice would sound like if added to his broadcast.

A wicked grin on his face, she hovered before him. Her wings flapped with great strength, sending gusts of wind Alastor’s way as she kept herself vertically in the air. Alastor simply looked down, pointedly away from the exorcist, and straightened his lapel with his hand that wasn’t holding his microphone. He was trying to make her angry. As she inched closer to him, Alastor assumed it had worked.

“Don’t see many of your lot around these parts this time of year.” he mused, checking his nail beds, “What can I help you with?”

There was a silence. Alastor looked up towards the angel, confused. Normally a blasé statement like that would have gotten a rise out of anyone intent on killing him. Instead, the lights of her eyes on the mask just stared at him. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground.

“Say that again.”

Her voice came out muffled and harsh through the mask, clearly altered by some equipment within. He laughed, taking a menacing step forward. Leaning down condescendingly, he conceded to her demand.

“How may I be of use?”

The exorcist was silent again. After a moment, Alastor shrugged. He straightened himself up again, his hands on top of his microphone as if it were a cane. He summoned his shadows.

“Well you’re certainly making this easy.”

His horns began to grow, throwing strange and menacing shadows across the walls of the ally way. Still, the angel stood there.

“It… it can’t be.” she mumbled under her breath.

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

“Can’t be who, darling?” he asked, feigning innocence, “The Radio Demon can’t be such a big name you folks up in Heaven hear my shows, can it?”

Alastor let out a laugh, taking a step forward as the exorcist tentatively took a step back.

“Oh who am I kidding, of course it is!” he exclaimed.

The exorcist took another step back as Alastor threw his microphone into the air, catching the center of its stand neatly in his outstretched hand. Her back hit the shadows he had put up to block the ally way and she frantically turned her head to the side, checking what it was she’d run into.

Alastor tsked her, walking up so they were just a few feet apart. Harshly, he used his microphone to turn his face to hers again.

“Don’t look away from me, dear. I might get jealous.”

“Were you married?” the exorcist asked suddenly.

Alastor froze in his tracks, his brow furrowed the slightest bit.

“Sorry if that’s weird.” she stuttered out, rubbing her arm holding the spear uncomfortably, “I just, well, I’ve been looking for my husband? He died in the early 1930s and well, he sounded a lot like you.”

Alastor’s heart dropped, crashing into his diaphragm. The angel watched him nervously as he removed his microphone from the side of her head. She let out a breath she’d been holding, something that was quickly taken in again as he used the end of his microphone to life her mask from her face.

It clattered harshly against the concrete as it fell from her face. Alastor’s eyes went wide. There was no doubt about it. Sure, she had a soft ethereal glow about her now, but hadn’t she always in a way? Sure, her hair was cropped around her ears and she was in armor. It didn’t matter, in an instant he knew. The shadows fell from around them, his horns shrunk back to their normal size.

“Y/n?”

“Alastor?” she asked back, just as breathless.

Slowly, she reached a hand out to his face and cupped his cheek. He leaned into it on instinct. Y/n’s spear clattered to the floor, her other hand finding his other cheek as she looked up at him in simple amazement.

“You…” gingerly, Alastor reached his free hand up, laying it on top of one of Y/n’s, “Of course you’ve been in Heaven this whole time. You were always so good, much too good for me.”

“Oh hush, Alastor.” Y/n scolded lightly, her eyes filling with tears, “You know I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that.”

“No, Y/n.” he let his microphone disappear, taking both her hands off his face and holding them intently in his own, “You don’t understand. I did terrible things when I was alive, I still do them now. There is a reason I am down here.”

“I know.” she responded almost immediately.

“No, y-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt but Al, I do know.” Y/n cut him off, “You were killed hurrying a body hun, hard not to. Plus, when the police searched the house they told me what they’d, um, found in the basement freezer.”

Y/n chose her words carefully, her eyes averted. When she looked back at Alastor, he was still smiling yes but, there was something confused about him too. They had grown up together. She had always known exactly what was going on in that head of his. Well, most of the time anyways.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?” Alastor asked, “After everything, after… God, how long did I leave you up there alone?”

“About thirty years.” Y/n shrugged.

There was a moment of silence. A question tugged at Alastor’s tongue, one he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to. Still, time was running out. The screams of demons being attacked were becoming more and more infrequent. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance.

“Did your new husband make it up to heaven with you?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide.

“New husba- Alastor, I never remarried.”

“Why not? You deserved to be treated well, Y/n. To have had a good life. Why waste it all on me?”

“I loved you. I still do.”

Y/n knew it was a bad idea, knew the risks if any other exorcist in the area heard her. Still, she couldn’t help but feel it would be worth it to die, knowing she’d found Alastor and that he knew she still loved him.

“You find anyone down here yourself?” Y/n asked awkwardly after a moment, looking around the ally.

Alastor took a step forward, closing what little space had been left between them. Like he had done it a thousand times before, because he had done it a thousand times before, he raised a hand to Y/n’s cheek and turned her face to his. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she stared up at him.

“No one.” Alastor shook his head, “There’s no one but you.”

A horn sounded from a ways away and Y/n turned up to the sky. Waves of exorcists were flying over head, going back to the portal, back to heaven. Y/n took a step back, Alastor’s hand falling from her cheek.

“Al, I have to go.”

“Please, Y/n. Stay with me here. I can’t get to you up there, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I have to go, Al. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you and everyone else down here.” she insisted, turning to where her mask lay on the ground, “I’ll be back in twelve months, I promise.”

As Y/n leaned over to grab her called disguise, her wings splayed out behind her. Light hit the tip of her spear just right in that moment, catching Alastor’s eye. A wicked idea filtered into his mind. Something he never could have done, would have ever even imagined when he’d been alive. But now? Hell had hardened him, taught Alastor sometimes you had to be cruel to get what you want and not just when it came to killing creeps. He had tried life without Y/n before, tried nearly sixty years of it. Alastor didn’t like it one bit.

“We will get to see one another then,” Y/n was saying as her trembling fingers fumbled for the edge of her mask in the dim light, “and I promise I’ll find a way we can end up together for good, I really d-”

A searing pain shot through her, causing her words to catch in her throat. It was worse than anything Y/n had ever felt before, emanating from the center of her back. Panting in pain, she reached a hand behind her back. It came away wet with sticky, golden blood. Her vision blurring, Y/n looked up at Alastor. Clutched in his right fist was the head of her spear. From the other hand, he dropped her left wing to the floor.

“Alastor…” she panted, her breath weak, “what…”

He took a step forward and an arrow of fright shot through Y/n. She tried to take one back but the pain was starting to really get to her now and she stumbled, falling to the ground. Alastor stood over her, smiling menacingly down as she scooted back from him. Y/n was full on hyperventilating now.”

“Al, what are you doing? What… how… I don’t understand.”

Alastor hushed her gently, the way he used to when they were little kids and he found her crying. Tears began to drip from Y/n’s eyes and she jolted violently with fear as his clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to twist around and giving him access to her other wing. He grabbed it, pulling it out to its fullest extent.

“Alastor please.” Y/n begged, tears rolling hotly down her face, “Please don’t. Please.”

“My, these sure are pretty.” Alastor hummed, admiring the weft of the feathers as he held Y/n’s remaining wing.

“Why would you do this!?” Y/n screamed, her voice echoing in the empty ally.

Alastor fell to his knees behind her, still holding her wing out, still immobilizing her in pain.

“I’ve already lost you once.” he said softly, leaning into Y/n’s ear. She whimpered, trying to scoot away from him but unable to due to the hold he had on her appendage, “I won’t do it again. If Satan, or God, or the fucking universe think they can keep us apart, then not a single goddamn one of them has been paying attention because you are mine. You are mine and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep things that way.”

As the final words left Alastor’s lips, he cut through Y/n’s remaining wing in a single motion. She let out an earsplitting scream before passing out in a steadily growing puddle of her own golden blood.

“There, there my love.” Alastor hummed gently, dropping the spear to the ground and smoothing her her wild hair down around her face as he pulled himself to his feet.

Straightening his jacket, Alastor leaned down and picked her limp body up off the sidewalk. The injuries were bad, but nothing he couldn’t help her handle.

“I just can’t explain to you how happy I am to have you back in my arms.” he said to Y/n’s sleeping form, looking down at her tired and tearstained face with nothing short of adoration, “You might be mad for a while, but I can handle that. At the end of the day, we will both know that you’re not going anywhere.”

Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on Y/n’s forehead. For a moment, his smile went hollow. He hadn’t meant to go this far, to hurt her this bad. Alastor had just been so scared, so utterly terrified at the prospect of losing her again.

“She will understand.” he reassured himself, “She has to understand.”

——

Part Two → Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)