#god i forgot i wrote not smut this time and wanted to tag it as such bruh

[milchig-de]

Caught 2

Pairing: Lighter Lorenz x Reader

Summary: You take care of Lighter after your session and he has a nightmare.

Warnings: Allusion to previous sexual activities, nightmares

Notes: Ok this is gonna be bad im writing this at 1 am publishing with no proof reading. I'll look over it tmrw.... have fun!

The next time you wake up, only an hour or so must have passed. Bleary, you open your eyes. You see Lighter's face- his expression still somewhat fucked out- his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He doesn't move when you quietly call out his name.

Your room still has the same shitty curtains that let in sunlight even if they're closed, the same cutesy, fluffy carpet that Lucy insisted you needed to have and the same furniture you took great care to choose and buy from folks who simply needed money. An uncomfortable feeling spreads in you. A mix of your muscles screaming at you, your head pounding because of an insufficient amount of sleep and a healthy dose of half dried stickiness from where you're still covered in cum.... Right. That should probably be cleaned.

Groaning, you get up as gently as you can, to avoid waking Lighter up. Then you make your way to a small bathroom that you managed to shoehorn into the already small room. Wetting a cloth with warm water, you wipe yourself off first. It'd be great if you had your own shower, but the sink and toilet were already trouble enough.

After washing the cloth off, you wet it again. Sitting down at the edge of the bed, you stare at Lighter for a moment. The last beams of sunlight stream into your room, illuminating his face just right. His hair glints with a golden hint, his face more relaxed than you've ever seen it while awake. His lips parted, letting out soft snores every once in a while. The scars covering his body can only make you wonder what kind of life he's lived up until now.

Of course, you managed to roughly piece together bits and pieces to get a full picture but... You sigh. Perhaps you will never understand the full extent of the suffering he had, and likely still has, to endure.

For now though, you focus on wiping him down with the cloth.

Pulling back, you observe him once more. His chest still rises frequently and deeply, so he doesn't seem to have woken up. A bit of cum still remains on his side, right in the corner between his body and the bedsheets. You consider moving him to clean, but he's probably too heavy for you. So you satisfy youself with wiping the corners anyway and pushing down the bedding to get everything. After you're done, you wash the cloth off and hang it up to dry. You can wash it properly with the rest of your laundry.

Strewn about clothes from both you and Lighter cover the room. Picking all of them up, you fold them as neatly as you can and place them on the side. You consider putting on boxers, but since he's not wearing any, it's probably fine not to wear any either.

For the third time, you sit down to observe Lighter. Nothing has changed from his previous state. Perhaps it's your headache or your muscle ache that makes your brain so foggy you have to sit down before you continue your tasks.

But before you can move to lie down again, Lighter's chest starts moving up and down faster, almost erratically. On top of that, his limbs twitch, almost clenching his fists. His face scrunches up, seemingly in pain. It's obvious he's having a nightmare. You freeze; what the hell are you supposed to do in a situation like this?

He doesn't give you any time to think, becuase he lets out an awful sounding moan. You vaguely recall someone else comforting their beloved, so you decide to imitate that. Embracing him, you lie on top of him and wind your arms around him. You pepper his face with kisses, throwing in mumbles of "I love you" and "It's fine, it's okay. No one's hurting you" in.

It seems to work, as his breathing calms down soon after that, his expression and muscles relax. You're surprised, but he continues sleeping like nothing happened.

Your heart clenches at the thought that he had to endure this all by himself. You press another gentle kiss to his face, a tear escaping you. You sniffle a little and try to distract yourself by sorting out the muddled together blanket and covering both of you with it. With the headache you already have, crying would be fatal for you. So you manage to successfully suppress your outburst and lie down next to him, falling into a dreamless slumber.

[buckytakethewheel]

heavy in your arms

Summary: Bucky has big arms. And you've been dreaming about losing yourself in them since you saw him for the first time. Inspo: beefy!bucky wrapping his bicep around your neck to pull you flush to his chest while he pounds into you deliciously Pairing: beefy!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warnings/tags: smut; porn without plot; breath play (kinda); arm kink; chocking kink; silent play; p in v; unprotected sex; praise kink (reader); no use of Y/N Word count: 2.6k Notes: quick drabble i wrote in like two hours because i couldn't stop thinking about this post by @fckmebarnes

You’re not entirely sure how you got to tonight’s events.

You met Bucky Barnes a few months ago in a local market. He seemed lost. Like buying tomatoes and plums from a sweet vendor on the street was the hardest chore someone could do in a lifetime. You approached. He looked uneasy, pulled away. You spoke, soft and tender. He barely answered. American. 

But you saw each other again. And again. And again, on the same market. At some point, you wondered if he would come just to see you. One day, you invited him to your home. You didn’t think he would say yes, but he did.

You know his name. He’s hiding something dark, deep, and he’s got a shiny metal arm instead of a left human arm. All the rest of him is… normal. He’s quiet, quieter than should be comfortable, but you’re okay with it. And his presence in your home comes like a balm. Becomes a routine. He comes over once a week, you make him his favorite soup. He always looks tired.

Then, tonight, something shifted. You made a comment about his arms. His big fucking arms, because, God, he’s muscular and big, so much bigger than you. And you’ve wondered what it would be like to lose yourself in those arms, to have them wrapped around you as he fucked you into oblivion, until you forgot yourself.

You’re both in the living room, and Bucky is the first to reach forward, towards you. He’s careful in his motion, but firm, his body moving with a certain precision. Flesh hand, warm, wraps around your smaller right wrist and tugs you closer, until your bodies are practically touching. Every inch of him on every inch of you - almost.

His icy blue eyes trail over your features like he’s studying you, learning, memorizing. They are directly locked into your own eyes for a moment, holding your gaze, and you think you detect something behind that look, like he’s about to say something, but decides against it. Then his eyes are on your cheeks, taking in the pinkish tone on your skin, and then lower, on your lips. Plump, a little trembling, as if they are begging to be kissed. To be devoured by his own. You don’t need to ask it out loud. Bucky’s memories are scattered across the continents, but the look on your face - the want - that one he recognizes.

His body towers over yours and he starts to lean down, and you still catch the moment he starts to close his eyes. And then, a hairsbreadth later, his lips are pressing to yours. The kiss isn’t tender, isn’t sweet. You didn’t expect sweetness from him, anyway.

Bucky is hungry and he kisses you exactly like a man starving. When was the last time his lips were on someone else’s willingly? When was the last time he felt like his body really was his own? He’s not sure he remembers, but this, right here, your small, fragile body on his - it feels good.

Your lips move together, hard and hungry, and he tastes like alcohol and fruit and the mixture is strange on your tongue but not unpleasant. He licks over your lips, inviting himself into your mouth before his tongue slides past your lips and tastes all of you. His flesh hand is still holding on to your wrist, but when he kisses you like that you moan and instantly, his hand moves to grip your hip tight. Bucky holds you hard against his body, and already you feel the outline of his hard cock through his jeans. Your hips roll forward, teasing, seeking friction, and he makes a noise into your mouth which you swallow like it’s your own.

Bucky breaks the kiss for a moment to search for air, and he takes in the sight of your flustered face. He seems proud of the work he’s done, metal arm reaching up and craddling your cheek as his thumb rubs over the reddened skin.

“You’re beautiful.”, he says, and his voice is rough with desire. You open your mouth to say something, but Bucky catches your lips in another lustful kiss that leaves you breathless before you can get a word out. Then he’s pulling away again. “No, love. No speaking unless I ask you to.” His head lowers and you think he’s about to kiss you again but instead his head dips between your neck and your shoulder and he licks a strip across your neck. Then, his teeth are digging into the skin before he sucks it into his mouth and that elicits another moan from you. His hand on your hip tightens and he groans in disapproval. “No noises either, love. You don’t make a sound. Do you understand?” You’re a quick learner, because his question doesn’t receive a spoken answer. Instead, you simply nod, your body already slightly trembling under his hold. “Good. Such a good girl for me.”

His words bleed into your ears like acid, burning their way through every inch of your skin, crawling, a brand being placed upon you. Such a good girl for me. It echoes inside of you, and you can imagine that, many moons from now, those words will still be glued to you like they are a part of your core.

Bucky is still kissing your neck, and his teeth graze the skin ever so slightly a couple of times. He’s testing you, testing your restraint. And you provide nothing. Not a single sound, only your eyes rolling into the back of your head, back arching slightly into him. He’s hot and warm and built like a wall - firm, big, his muscles so big they completely crowd your every sense. There is so much of him. Standing tall and strong, the red henley strained against his arms as his muscles flex as he grips you tight. And your mind is spiraling, because you had to be blind to not notice how big he was, but now, this close, you feel so small in comparison, so breakable. And you are sure he could break you if he wanted to. You’re not entirely sure he isn’t doing that, right now, just in an entirely different way.

You almost mewl in disappointment when Bucky momentarily pulls away from you, but you don’t, and he takes notice. You’re being such a good girl, and he’s never been quite this turned on, even though you’ve barely done anything at all. Both his hands move to the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. Then he’s walking forward, and you walk backwards, and somehow, you end up with your back against the couch. Bucky is grinning at you. Not a full grin, no, but a delicious half-smile, confident he’s tearing you apart bit by bit. His eyes are skimming over your torso, landing on your black lacy bra and he can’t help but immediately move his flesh hand to massage one of your breasts, grabbing, the size of it perfect in his big palm. His thumb brushes the soft material of the bra to the side, just enough to free your hardened nipple and he plays with it between his fingers. 

You still don’t make a sound. God, it’s the hardest thing you’ve done all your life - not making a sound when he’s teasing you like this. But you’re a good girl. You can be good for him.

“Love-”, Bucky breathes and he kisses over the expanse of your chest. “Tell me how you’re feeling.” His voice isn’t demanding like the rest of his body is right now, but it’s rough enough to make it clear he needs an answer.

“So good.” 

*

A while later, you’re both naked, Bucky stroking your bare back with his fingers as you suck in a breath.

You are slightly bent over your couch, legs spread, and your arousal is slowly dripping down the inside of your thigh. Bucky catches some of it in his fingers and uses it to stroke his cock as he looks at you. 

What a sight to behold. You, spread out for him. Wanting, needing, not making a damn sound, like he asked you to. The imagery makes his cock twitch in his hand and he has to take a deep breath, slow his thoughts, otherwise he’d be gone before this even started. 

Bucky runs his metal hand over your hip, around the base of your back, so close to your ass, and his touch is reverent, like he physically needs to touch every inch of skin to make this perfect. Then, the tip of his cock is pressing against your folds, and the intrusion is most welcomed. Your hips roll back into him, and Bucky rests both hands on your hips to stop your movement.

“Don’t be greedy.”, he breathes, but in the next second he’s slowly sinking himself inside of you. His cock stretches you out and you grip the edges of the couch hard, so hard maybe you’ll leave nail marks afterwards, because it’s the only way you can stop yourself from making a sound. Sweat coats your body, and his, and his metal arm circles your waist, gently pressing against your stomach to keep you pressed tight to him as he sinks deeper, and deeper, until he’s fully seated inside of you.

Bucky groans and it’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard in your life. He doesn’t remember any other feeling quite like the feeling of being buried so deep inside of you. Your pussy feels divine, wet and warm, gripping him like a vice. It feels like it’s singing to him, a goddamn siren song, and he will never be able to leave again. 

“Oh, fuck, love- so tight.”, Bucky says, half a whimper, and he gives one tentative thrust. And you feel it then - his body shaking against yours. “Tell me this feels good. Tell me you want this.” Bucky’s pleading, a small contrast to the way he’s handling you, and you let out a soft gasp you had been holding on.

“Please, Bucky, I want you. I want you so bad.”, you respond, and the arousal in your voice is confirmation enough that you’re not lying. “Please, your cock feels so fucking good-”

And then your sentence is interrupted, because Bucky slides his flesh arm around your neck, hard bicep wrapped around you as he pulls you flush to his chest. He uses his knee to lift one of your legs from behind, resting it against the back of the couch, and then he starts fucking into you, thrusts slow, hard, deep, his bicep pressed so hard around your neck that you feel almost light headed. The grip of his arm is not enough to take your breath away, but it is enough to hold you in place, to stop you from moving, from doing anything at all. Anything but moan for him. You’re not sure he wants you to right now, but you can’t really hold it back when his cock is buried so deep, hitting every sweet spot, his balls slapping against your ass in a slow, sensual rhythm that sends you flying.

“Bad girl.”, he moans into your ear, but he doesn’t make a move to stop, and instead, fucks you through it, a little harder, a little deeper. “Making noise when I told you to be quiet.”, he continues speaking, voice hoarse, but his hips don’t snap out of their rhythm, and so you still moan. One of your hands comes up from the back of the couch and you drag your nails over his large arm, the one wrapped around your neck, and his hips stutter for half a second. “Naughty. And I fucking love it.”

He angles his hips better, lifts your leg a little higher with his knee and then he’s changing the pace, his cock driving in and out of you a little faster. The noises coming out of you are pure filth, obscene, and you’re glad he isn’t asking you to be quiet now, because you don’t think you could. Bucky’s lips drop to your neck, and he kisses the soft skin as his metal fingers slide down your stomach and start rubbing circles around your clit in time with his thrusts. He feels you trembling in his arms and he tightens the arm around your neck, keeping you more in place.

“I’ve got you, love.”, he moans against your neck, and his metal hand doesn’t stop, his hips don’t stop and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with your moans. “You’re so amazing. Could stay inside this tight pussy for hours.” Your body shudders against him, teeth digging into your bottom lip as his filthy praise makes his way into you. God, you want, need, more of this, more of him. 

But he has you pressed flush against his chest, against his body, and you’re his to take. He doesn’t let you move anything other than your arms, everything else in his total control. And you love it, you’d beg for it if he made you.

His metal fingers fasten the movements on your clit, and the cold metal feels perfect against the heat of your folds, so perfect. Your stomach feels tight, muscles coiled with the pressure of the orgasm that is building right in the back of your gut, spreading over your every limb, expanding and threatening to make a mess out of you. Bucky feels it, feels your walls clutching around his cock and it only spurs him on. His hips snap faster, fucking you with renewed vigor and his lips trail from your neck to your ear, whispering all the filthy things you seem to love.

“Gonna cum so hard inside this pretty pussy.”, he says and you whimper. He responds to that by thrusting particularly hard inside of you. “So good for me. My favorite girl. You gonna cum for me, love? Gonna cum all over my cock? Let me feel you.” 

Your arms are clawing at the bicep still tightly wrapped around your neck, not because you want him to move it but because you need to hold on to something as you come apart, in all senses of the word. “Bucky, I’m so close- please don’t stop.”

He wasn’t planning to. 

And shortly after, he tips you over the edge. You see white, your mouth opening to let out a strangled gasp as your orgasm washes over you and your whole body trembles against Bucky. He whispers soft praise into your ear as you cum, hold you through every spasm and moan, flush against his chest, and his hips don’t falter. He fucks you fast and hard and hot until you’re going limp in his body, and then he thrusts a couple more times, his rhythm broken, before he curses your name under his breath and spills himself inside of you, his seed filling your pussy to the brim. 

For another minute he just fucks lazily into you, like he’s just making sure no second of his or your orgasm go to waste. His arm around your neck loosens up and it seems like he’s about to move it completely out of the way, but you hold on to it. You feel his gaze on you, almost confused.

“Don’t move.” You ask, a little pleading. Your eyes are closed as you try to get your breathing back to normal. “Stay. For a while.”

He does.

For a while.

[straylightdream]

I like you, maybe - teaser

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon wonwoo x afb.reader

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: coming May 2025

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): friends to lovers, mutual pining, romance, hurt, comfort, angst, smut, fake dating

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy issues, family issues, fake dating, alcohol consumption, crying, lots of emotions

𝐬𝐦𝐮�� 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: protected p in v, vanilla sweet smut, breast/nipple play, fingering, clit play, hand job

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

𝐚𝐧: if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form. I’m reworking and fully rewriting something I wrote in 2021

-PREVEIW-

You always felt as if you were never good enough for your father. No one saw you truly upset over your relationship with your father other than Mingyu and Wonwoo.

“I don’t think I have a choice, if I don’t go, my grandma, and dad won’t let me live it down.” You sighed. You’ve contemplated going no contact but you knew it would be hard. There is this part of you that thinks if you try hard enough maybe one day your relationship could be fixed. “Oh my god I don’t want to go to this alone.” You knew that this wedding was going to be a lot of people asking you why you’re single, and if you’re going to have kids. All your cousins were married and had kids, and you’re the only single one. Every Christmas one of the few times you would see that side of the family. Everyone would always harp on you and ask a million questions about your life.

“You should have someone go with you,” Mingyu said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you want to go with me?” you asked, praying maybe Mingyu could save you from going to this alone. You knew that Mingyu could play the part as the perfect boyfriend. Your mother already loved him and constantly told you that you should date someone like Mingyu. You knew her father would love him too. He’s a parent’s dream partner for their daughter.

“I can’t because it’s my mom’s birthday that weekend so I’m going to be at a family event out of town,” he said. You can tell he feels bad he can’t help you. You could tell that he didn’t want you going alone, but he wasn’t able to go to help you out.

“Literally everyone is going to be in my business about not having a boyfriend. I need to get a boyfriend within the next two weeks,” you said with a sarcastic laugh knowing damn well that was going to be nearly impossible.

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo asked, walking into the kitchen. He sat down next to Mingyu and looked over at you. He pushes up his glasses. You completely forgot Wonwoo was home. He’s been locked away in his room playing video games.

“My dad is getting married in two weeks and I don’t want to go alone. I’m not looking forward to being asked the same questions about my dating life over and over again.” You can’t help but sigh dramatically. Leaning forward resting your face in your hands.

“So- do you want someone to be your fake date?” Wonwoo asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, she wants a fake date,” Mingyu said before taking another drink of his beer. He gave up on working on his own work project about an hour ago.

Wonwoo shrugged his shoulders and said, “I mean I can go with you if you want. I think I would make a pretty good fake boyfriend.”

You looked up at Wonwoo and knit your eyebrows together and stared at him wondering if he was serious.“Are you being serious about offering to be my fake date?” You don’t think you can actually handle it if he's just messing with you.

He shrugged his shoulders again oh so casually. “Yeah why not? Weddings are great, there is free food, and normally there are free drinks.”

Shutting your laptop, you looked over at Wonwoo who was smiling. “Jeon Wonwoo, you’re a lifesaver.”

[min-imum]

FLUFFY GYU SMUT !!!!

nsfw, mdni

content warnings: gn!reader, this is actually so fluffy because i love domesticity and i’m a sucker for domestic fluff but also mingyu is too hot so i ended up being a smut account but but but TIYA I MEANT AN ASK WITH CONTENT 😞😞😞😞 it’s okay this means i can write WHATEVER I WANT!!!!!!!! DOMESTIC MINGYU!!!!!!!, super soft sex, super sweet mingyu, AUGH its vanilla and it’s cute, also i literally added tags to this in advance because my dumbass completely forgot to add tags in my previous post and i was like hmm it’s a suspiciously low number of notes for the amount of time this has been up OHHHHHHH no tags., second time i’ve had to rewrite a fic because tumblr said nope sorry we cant save this AND THEN IT JUST DIDNT SAVE EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY SAVED THE DRAFT EARLIER AND I WAS JUST ADDING ON :( im being so fr the first draft was SO much better on god and it was longer too but i forgot what i wrote rAAA

mingyu — your sweet, darling boyfriend. you love him with all your heart and you know he loves you too.

he shows you just how much he loves you all the time. you know he loves you when he crawls up at dawn to make you breakfast. you know he loves you when he crouches to tie your shoelaces for you. you know he loves you when he sends you sweet texts throughout the day, and when he purchases souvenirs from all his travels for you, and when he wraps his big arms around you on a bad day to cushion you and comfort you.

you know he loves you when he makes love to you like this, slow and sweet and filled with emotion.

he kisses you slowly, languidly, and you moan into his mouth as his cock presses into you inch by inch. when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are filled with adoration. it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

when you finally take him to the hilt, he pauses, litters kisses over your face and neck, presses his lips to your jaw, bites gently at your earlobe, and waits ever so patiently for you to get used to his size inside you.

“you can move, gyu,” you whisper. he kisses you once more as his hips start to move, grunts falling from his lips with each thrust. he leans his forehead against yours tenderly and bumps your noses together affectionately.

his hands roam your body, squeezing gently and feeling you up. he revels in every moan and whine that escapes from your lips. he nuzzles against your cheek sweetly.

as much as you like the rougher, meaner sex you have with him, this sweet love-making is your favourite. he never fails to remind you how much he loves you and how special you are to him.

he presses his nose into your hair and breathes in your scent.

“did you use my shampoo, baby?”

“mhm,” you smile sheepishly. “sorry.”

“don’t apologise. i like it when you smell like me.” he giggles, expression absolutely lovesick. you blush, shy and contented.

“i like smelling like you too.”

he has the sweetest smile on his face, eyes glittery and lips curled, as he fucks you with all the love in the world. he loves making you feel good, he loves taking care of you. he loves you.

soon, you’re cumming over his cock with a long whine, and he fucks you through it. he always makes sure you cum first. and then he follows quickly, rolling his hips into you one last time and emptying himself into you.

finally, he rolls the two of you over so you’re lying on his chest, his cock still buried inside you.

“hi,” you giggle.

“you’re so cute,” mingyu coos. “my adorable baby. i love you so much.”

you smile, eyes bright with happiness and satisfaction. “i love you too.”

“let’s get up soon, okay? i have to clean you up and change the sheets,” he murmurs.

as always, your sweet boyfriend never fails to take care of you and show you how much he loves you.

“okay,” you hum. “five more minutes?”

he strokes your back affectionately and presses a tender kiss to your head. “five more minutes.”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Hopefully it’s not too much of an ick for you, but if you’re up to it, would you ever write Ford eating Reader out on their period?

not the disaster you think it is

a/n: hey love, no ofc it's not, im absolutely ok with the whole period thing. i meant to post this a few days ago, but it’s like i forgot how to write or more like i hated every sentence i wrote and couldn’t get past it. anyway, hope this mood leaves me soon. but here we are!! back to Ford being a total freak, as usual, who’s absolutely head over heels for his partner <3 enjoy, i guess?? and thank my period for the delay :/

tags: Ford x reader, nsfw, fluff and smut, gentle sex to rough, emotional rollercoaster for reader, vaginal sex, period sex, oral sex (f receiving), i guess blood play, embarrassment, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, overthinking, established relationship

you think you're about to die of embarrassment, but Ford’s just getting started because sometimes, the worst-case scenario ends up being the best one.

finally, finally you and Ford are alone. do you even remember the last time this happened? no Stan grumbling at the tv, no Dipper hovering around with a thousand questions, no Mabel dragging you away to watch Waddles collapse in the dirt, no Soos excitedly telling you about some strange new creak in the shack’s walls that sounds exactly like a “genuine ghost noise, dude.” no distractions.

what did matter was that you and Stanford were alone, and after the morning you had, there was absolutely no way you weren’t going to fuck the life out of your man.

and god, it’s not like you hadn’t been thinking about it since the second he stepped out of your bedroom looking like that. at first, the missed period had you panicking, your mind spiraling into absolute worst scenarios, but then you chalked it up to stress, shrugged it off, and forgot about it until you saw him. jesus, he didn’t even have to try. you’d made him wear that outfit though, because it was criminal to let him sweat through another goddamn trench coat when summer in gravity falls was like hell had opened its gates and breathed directly onto this weird town, and you weren’t about to let him die of heatstroke just because he was too stubborn to dress appropriately. so you gave him something lighter. and fuck, that was a mistake, because the second you saw him in it, sleeves pushed up, collar slightly undone, his forearms out, his hands, you swore you nearly ovulated again.

but the worst part was when he came running into the shack with those big, dirty, calloused hands holding some kind of tiny, wriggling anomaly he and Dipper had just dug up in the woods, showing it off to everyone like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. all sweaty and flushed from the sun, completely unaware of how fucking delicious he looked, rambling excitedly to Stan, Soos, and Mabel while you had to physically restrain yourself. and you did. you were so good all morning, sitting there, waiting, swallowing down every desperate little urge watching your nerdy man gesturing with those dirty hands as he explained something.

and all you could think was, “i want to eat this man alive.” god, it was unfair how much you wanted him today.

thankfully, Stanley eventually had enough of the science talk. he let out a loud, suffering groan and declared, “that’s it, i’m getting out of here before i have to listen to one more goddamn sentence about anomalous worm lizards or whatever, Soos, Mabel, Dipper, we’re going fishing.”

so of course, there was absolutely no way you weren’t going to take advantage of this moment! it was so rare that you got Ford all to yourself like this that the second the door closed behind Stan, you practically pounced on him.

you had Ford laid out beneath you, his wide back against the mattress, your hands braced on his scarred chest as you rode him like your life depended on it.

and god, you were hungry for it, so desperate. the morning had wound you up so tightly that by the time you finally got him beneath you and finally sank down onto his cock, it felt like release, but still nowhere near enough.

you bounced on him, panting and whimpering, rolling your hips, feeling sweat beading on your skin because it was still summer. and there's no fan strong enough to save either of you. it must be at least 90°F, around 32°C, but it feels even worse and hotter when you have sex. besides, you were the one putting in all the work as your Ford, your good boy, was lying there, being so good for you. looking up at you with little hearts in his eyes, huge hands gripping your waist, trying so hard not to buck up into you too soon because he was such a gentleman even during sex. he wasn’t controlling the pace, you were, and god, he was letting you use him like a toy, groaning so beautifully every time your pussy clenched around him.

yeah, you’d definitely need a cold shower after this, but right now you couldn’t care less. little did you know, though, the shower won’t just be for the sweat.

but that’s a problem for future you.

now, however, your legs start to give out first. despite the pleasure that’s still flooding you in blinding waves, your poor thighs are already trembling and the rhythm getting uneven as you desperately try to keep fucking yourself on him. Ford notices it, even flushed, messy, drowning in you, he watches you like you’re the fucking answer to every equation he's ever scribbled in his journals.

“easy, sweetheart,” he says gently, and then his arms are around you, flipping you over with no effort at all, manhandling you so tenderly. you barely get a second to breathe before he pushes in again from behind and your mouth falls open in a cry. that's deeper. so much deeper like this, and your whole body jolts forward with a ragged moan. “let me take care of you now.”

“Ford, fuck, Ford!” his name spills from you in a gasp just as he starts thrusting, making your toes curl, fingers claw at the sheets, and he just leans over you, grinding into you, murmuring against your ear.

“just like that, you’re doing so good for me,” he groans, kissing your shoulder, “so tight, just keep taking it, beautiful, you’re perfect like this.” Ford rolls his hips, filling you to the brim, keeping you pressed flat against the sheets with nothing to do but take it.

every time he thrusts in, you feel yourself get wetter, making it so easy for him to move and keep grinding into that soft, sensitive spot inside you until you’re crying out, clutching at the pillows. and that’s it. your body breaks as you cum again, shuddering under him as your body jerks with each deep thrust. Ford holds your hips in place while the sheets muffle your screams. he knows your body, god, he knows exactly how to hit those aching spots and how to angle just right, how to drag every last sob and tremble from you until you’re nothing but a pathetic overstimulated mess in his arms. and damn it, Ford loves you like that, clutching at the blankets, so fucked out and trembling, all because of him.

and still, it’s not enough for him. hasn’t been enough all week. you feel it in the way he doesn’t even stop to let you breathe, doesn’t even let you sink down into the afterglow. instead, Ford carefully pulls you onto your back, kissing your jaw and neck, and keeps going, pushing deep into your sore, overstimulated pussy like he’s possessed.

“Ford, s-sensitive, oh god—“

“cant stop,” he pants, hunched over you, sweat dripping down his temple, “just one more. i missed you so much, just let me, i missed you, i missed this,“ he’s so deep again, making your soft walls flutter again, stretched wide around him, and his back, oh fuck, your nails drag down his skin and leave bright red scratches over old scars, painting your love right into his skin as you cry out beneath him.

“so beautiful, darling, so good for me. love you so much, l-love you, mhmm.” Ford's words make you ache in a way you can’t describe and your whole body feel like warm honey, melting under his touch. you pull him closer, wrap your arms around his neck, bury your face against his shoulder as he keeps pounding into you, making love to you like he means it, practically crushing you with his weight.

your thighs tighten where they frame his waist and you're literally clinging to him. his cock slides over your sensitive walls and you still feel so tight, despite how well he worked you open with his fingers before this and the slick mess between your legs. you're drenched, and he knows it by the way his cock nudges inside you so smoothly as you gasp each time he presses flush against your cervix.

“mmh, i love you so damn much, you feel so good, holy moses, taking me so well.” Ford's voice is husky as he kisses you between words, pressing his mouth against your temple, your cheek, your lips and sweet heavens, you’re drowning in it, in him, in the way he praises you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him. and you know you are, because nobody’s ever looked at you the way Ford does.

”fuck, baby—“ you sob, clinging to his shoulders once he finally slows down just enough for your mind to stop spinning. “you looked so fucking hot this morning,” you whimper, biting your lip, “i wanted you, wanted you so bad, you looked so fucking good today, i couldn’t stop staring—“

Ford’s smile is all soft, even as his cock still pulses inside you. “you should’ve told me, gorgeous, m-maybe we’d have done something about it sooner.”

“i couldn’t, there were people, you know we can't when everyone's at home.”

Ford kisses you and whispers against your mouth, continuing moving inside you. “now you can, love, now it’s just us, be as loud as you want, please. . . but so?” he asks again, “tell me, was it the shirt? or the forearms?”

“shut up—shut up—”

“no, no, i’m serious,” he chuckles breathlessly, slightly changing the angle, “you’re adorable when you’re flustered. i wanted you too,” Ford says suddenly, a little softer. “it was horrible not being able to touch you all week. i kept thinking about you, sweet—“

you interrupt him by kissing him for that, you just have to because you can never get enough of his lips. you drag him down into a kiss and breathe him in like you’ll die without it. and Ford groans right into your mouth, he’s louder this time, letting out sharp grunts and drawn-out moans, that gorgeous fucking voice of his breaking with each thrust. you love it. god, you love when he’s vocal, when he lets go and stops trying to hold himself back, when you can hear how good you make him feel and how much he's enjoying this too.

then, Ford's rhythm gets rougher as he straightens his back, holding himself up as he growls out, “sweetheart, can i go rougher?”

you gasp, nodding fast. “Ford, we talked about this, y-you don’t have to ask, just take what you need, please”

“thank you, my love, thank you, you don’t know how much i needed that.” his voice breaks on it, so full of need it makes your pussy throb.

he grabs your waist, lifts you off the bed slightly, holding you there suspended in the air as he slams into your soaked fluttering pussy again and again. and your cunt takes it like she was made for him, squelching wet and hot around his cock as he uses you like a fucking fleshlight, fast enough the bed is creaking beneath you, the headboard knocking.

“Ford— oh, god!” your head tilts back, pleasure spiking, spreading through your whole body. you love this. you love him when he’s this desperate and rough, that means he needed you really damn bad. “yes! oh, my god, yes!” you arch your back automatically, body tensing as he buries himself to the hilt, his cock brushing your cervix over and over, making your thighs spasm and your toes curl. tears suddenly stinging your eyes.

but Ford keeps pounding into you, determined to bring you to your third orgasm now, and it’s all too much, making your clit throb. your brows knit together in that desperate needy expression he lives for, pretty lips parted, chin wet from drool, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears.

“mine, you're mine,” you hear Ford through your own screams and just nod eagerly.

you swear, nothing feels better than Ford's thick cock stretching you like that, fucking into you like crazy, building the sweetest pressure in your gut. filthy sounds echoing off the walls of the room and god, you’re such a mess, sobbing, literally sobbing, with tears leaking down your temples. eyes glossy and unfocused, every inch of your body betrays you, twitching and fluttering around him like you were made to be filled like this.

“so wet for me,” he grits out, “god, listen to you, soaking me.”

you can’t even answer because you’re just moaning as he keeps thrusting roughly and deep into you like you’re just a toy in his hands. his toy. your hands scrabble helplessly at the sheets as your body climbs toward another high.

oh, you think, dazed, this is actually filthy.

you’re wet, too wet. not that it’s ever an issue with Ford because he gets you soaked, dripping and ruined just from his voice alone everyday. the sounds in the room are straight-up filthy, like something out of a fucking porn. slick, lewd noises every time he thrusts in, your cunt welcoming him, spreading your arousal everywhere.

the sheets beneath you are absolutely ruined and your thighs feel sticky and messy.

Ford has to feel it too, how effortlessly he slides in and out, how fucking easy your wet pussy swallows him every time. and he doesn’t stop. your head’s a haze of pleasure, but somewhere, deep in the rational part of your mind, a little warning bell rings and you hate it.

okay, let's think then. you’re wet, and that’s good, but something feels weirdly weird. you feel you're leaking like a damn waterfall, it gets too warm down there too. your moans taper off slightly, not enough for Ford to notice yet, but you’re thinking too much now, caught in a spiral of why is it so much and why does it feel different. your period is one week late. couldn’t be, right? right. . .

just in that moment Ford slides out and you almost yelp from the loss, but he presses the thick head of his cock against your aching clit, rubbing slow, teasing you like he knows you love. you barely suppress a whimper, melting in this feeling, but before he can push back in you open your eyes and whisper.

“Ford, stop.” you feel your stomach twist with nausea before you even look down.

but that makes him freeze immediately. “what? what happened? did i hurt you?” his voice sounds hoarse from all the moans and groans, but concerned still. he sits back on his heels, wide-eyed, hands hovering over your hips.

ignoring his questions and gathering your strength, you look down and there it is.

blood. a lot of it. smeared on his cock, slick on your inner thighs, staining the sheets beneath you.

“oh my god,“ you gasp. no. no, no, no, no. you’re about to fucking die.

Ford follows your gaze, sees the red, and panics. “holy multiverse! are you okay?? did i— was i too rough? fuck, sweetheart, i’m so sorry,“ he looks like he’s about to pass out from guilt, already reaching for you, checking you over like you’re injured.

“no, Ford, it’s not that, i—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, heat crawling up your face. embarrassment punches through you like a fucking bullet. your throat tightens and you barely get the next words out of yourself. “it’s, uh, my period.”

yeah, your period that just ambushed you, right in the middle of the most intense sex you've had in a month, and of course, it would happen now. during the one time you feel gorgeous, needed, good, loved and craved by your man.

silence. fucking silence. your worst fear is coming true now. you can’t even look at him. your hands tremble as you try to close your legs to hide yourself from this fucking shame, but Stanford who's still between them, doesn’t budge.

you’re bracing for it. for disgust, for Ford to pull away, wrinkle his nose and be mad or scold you or run to the shower or something—

“oh. well, that makes sense.”

your eyes snap open. “. . .what?”

Ford’s face softens. “considering the amount of blood that comes out during your period, i'd guess your cycle kicked in just as your uterus was having those strong contractions during climax. its. . . fascinating, really. i mean, maybe the orgasm actually triggered the bleeding? what do you think?“

“Ford, let’s NOT.”

he pauses and smiles. “oh. right. sorry, sorry.”

you exhale shakily, rubbing at your face. “god, this is so embarrassing.”

“why?” Ford frowns.

“why?? Ford, i literally just ruined everything. i got you all dirty and the sheets and— fuck, im so sorry! this is disgusting—“

through all your panicked monologue, you dont even notice Ford looking at you like wants to eat you alive.

your body is still sensitive, but the shame sits heavier than the pleasure now. you don’t even want to look at him. god, you were just bouncing on his cock, losing your mind on him, moaning into the mattress like a fucking animal and now you’re bleeding? how humiliating.

“anyways, this is—“

“not a big deal,” Ford finishes for you. “you're overthinking.”

you glare at him. “of course i'm overthinking, Ford. i just ruined—“

”ruined? is that what you think you did?”

“well, yeah, obviously.”

“sweetheart,” he moves closer, “why do you think that?”

“b-because sex is over now?” you flail an arm vaguely at the mess beneath you. ”we can't just—“

“sex is over?” he interrupts again, tilting his head, genuinely perplexed. because truly, he doesn’t understand the concept.

“uh. yeah. i mean, obviously? normal men wouldn’t want to keep going after.“

Ford’s expression tightens. “‘normal men’? darling, if you wanted a normal man, you wouldn’t be with a virgin who hops dimensions and gets annoyed by bad grammar.”

you stare, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from sheer humiliation. “so, you’re not mad you mean? or disgusted?”

“honey, there's nothing in your body that could make me mad or disgusted.” Ford huffs, wiping a smudge of blood off your thigh like it’s nothing but a wine spill.

and you want to believe him, you do, but god, your thoughts are spiraling again. he didn’t even get to finish, because you ruined everything. sheets soaked, mood killed, you were so close and now it’s all gone. and all of that is because of you.

“i still ruined it.” you admit and hate how ashamed you sound. “it was so good and now it’s just—“

“but darling,” Ford cuts in. he leans down, kisses your hipbone, tongue brushing so hot and tender it makes you twitch. “who said anything was ruined?”

“i mean, we can’t exactly keep going.”

“but why? who says i was ever going to stop?”

and it hits you. he hasn’t even finished. not once, he’d been so deep in you, feeling your pussy gripping him like a fucking vice that he didn’t even bother to chase his own orgasm.

you gape. “wait. you’re still—“

“hard?” he chuckles. “yes. painfully.”

“and you’re not mad?” you ask the same thing again, confused.

Ford kisses the inside of your knee. “the only thing i’m mad about is that i didn’t get to make you cum with my mouth first. you think I could be satisfied knowing I haven't tasted you yet?”

“wait, wait, wait, im—“ you start to panic when you realize what Ford is hinting at.

but it's too late because he's already gripping your thighs and spreading you open.

“you know we don't have to—“

”yes, we do,” he murmurs, “yes, we absolutely do.”

honestly, if you think Ford’s gonna let a little blood stop him from eating the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, sweetheart. . .please, you clearly don’t know how fucked in the head this man is for you.

because after a week of not having your body beneath him, this is nothing.

“but—“

“sweetheart, ive been waiting a week. a week. let me take care of you.”

god. this man, fuck. you want to be mad. really, you do. you want to groan, roll your eyes, throw a pillow at him for ruining your chance to bury your shame in silence. but the worst part is that he’s smiling in that awful, devastatingly gentle smile.

and oh fuck, you cry out, trying to twist away because you dont want to make him uncomfortable or anything, but Ford's strong arms are caging you in. “i love this pussy. love how wet you get for me. i don’t care if you’re bleeding, i care that you’re not done yet, sweetheart.”

“you’re insane,” you whisper, biting your lip.

“for you?” Ford grins against your skin, “absolutely.” and then he’s already lowering, teasing at your folds, unbothered by the mess, more turned on by your shuddering and beautiful whimpers. your blood is barely noticeable compared to the way you leak for him, messy and dripping still, your clit so swollen and sensitive, you jerk as soon as he touches it.

Ford's tongue slides against you like velvet, then circles, and flattens.

fuck, he’s good.

he groans when you grind into his mouth, and the sound rumbles right through your gut. your hips buck, and he holds you firm.

shit. you should’ve never taught him. you should’ve kept the knowledge to yourself, never guided his eager mouth and shown him the way your body sang under just the right pressure, never taken his trembling fingers in yours and said “no, baby, slower, feel how sensitive i am here?”

because now, Ford is using it against you.

he starts slow, tracing that familiar path from the crease of your thigh up to your clit, breathing you in like it’s a drug he’s been deprived of.

you want to scream, cry and curl up into nothing and vanish forever, but Ford is licking right over the spot that makes your legs kick, and you swear he smiles when you do. because he knows your body. knows your pulse, rhythm and your shame and he’s pulling it apart with every flick of his fucking tongue.

“so sensitive already,” his breath ghosting over your drenched folds. “you really thought we were done?”

you don’t even know what he’s doing anymore, only that it’s working. it’s so working. too well, in fact, because you’re not even thinking straight, brain full of static and white noise and the obscene sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy like he’s making up for every lost second of the week you went without.

and he has improved. god, he’s weaponized everything you taught him. the way you showed him to suck your clit gently, not too much, just a little pressure like he’s savoring it. . . yeah. he remembers. that damn freak

each groan against your clit is like a vibration in your bones, each sigh filled with hunger and fucking adoration, because you gave this to him. you taught him this. you trusted him to touch you, to taste you, so now you pay for this. your pussy’s so sensitive, sore from earlier, still fluttering and tender, but he doesn’t stop.

“F—Ford, please—“ you don’t even know what you’re begging for. mercy? more? less? it all blends together. hearing your weak voice, Ford smirks against your pussy and then moans as if the taste of your blood and arousal is some forbidden elixir that gets him drunk on you. “s’too good,” you cry out. “how are you this good now? you damn nerd, oh my god—“

you can't finish your sentence because he flattens his tongue and licks again, so slow, making a long drag from your entrance up to your clit that makes your hips jerk and your hands fist the sheets.

and fuck, fuck, he remembers this too, how you explained him how to circle his tongue just beneath the clit too, where your nerves are raw and sensitive, and now he’s there, swirling soft, teasing spirals that make you shudder down to the bone.

and then he sucks your clit deep into his mouth again, groans, sending vibrations through your entire pelvis, making your back arch and your legs twitch around his head.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” Ford's voice all fucked-up and hungry, and god he sounds ruined, “give it to me.”

his thick fingers slide in without resistance, two of them, slow and fucking perfectly angled, crooking just right, the pads of them brushing over your sweetest sensitive spot in lazy pulses. he’s stroking you like he’s trying to coax something out, and you’re so soaked that the sounds are filthy, wet and too obscene.

you whimper, trying to close your legs but his wide shoulders are there, unyielding, pinning you open.

Ford kisses your clit like he’s in love with it, and you feel your orgasm coming like a storm on the horizon, making your thighs shake violently around his head.

but what kills you is knowing that this is your fault because you made him this good. you trained him. shaped him. built him into this monster of a man who eats you out like you’re the center of the universe.

and now he’s fucking feral with it

you cry out, too breathless, feeling your cunt pulsing around his fingers now that he added third one, your clit is so swollen under his mouth. “you’re so perfect,” Ford pants, grinding his mouth into you, his fingers pumping harder now, “god, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? let me have it, sweetheart, give me that pretty orgasm.”

holy shit, you cum so fucking hard your body locks up, hips lifting off the bed, thighs clamping around his head, but that doesn't stop him. not even when you sob and beg, not even when your clit twitches and your hands shake, he’s still licking through it, swallowing you down. your pussy squeezes his fingers and leaks, your whole body folds inward.

but Ford holds you through it, tongue slowing to soft kisses, his fingers gently easing out.

“that’s my girl,” he breathes, smiling silly, chin wet with you.

“never knew you were such a freak, Ford,” you breathe, giggling through your tears, your fingers tightening in his silver hair. “i created a monster.”

Ford looks up, brown eyes glassy. “darling, didn’t you read my journals?”

you laugh breathlessly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but then it falters because your gaze flicks down to the blood. the mess. the ruined sheets and the guilt curling hot and tight in your chest.

“do you still love me?” you ask, unexpectedly even for yourself. “after all this. . . i ruined the bed and—“

Ford's heart breaks at that. he’s kissing your thighs before you can even blink, holding your hips like you’re something fragile. “hey. hey. look at me, sweetheart. you didn’t ruin a thing. you gave me you. and i’ve never wanted anything more. blood, tears, whatever. . . you think any of that changes how much i love you?”

you don't even notice how quickly a smile creeps onto your tear-stained face.

“you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever touched, and i’d ruin a thousand sheets for just one more taste of you.” and that’s what love sounds like in Ford’s voice.

[bindeds]

[ DON’T BE SORRY. ] : 5.1k words. 𖤐 LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM READER. — you’re dating the big boss of hell himself, but it’s a sticky situation when you’re also good friends with a tech-savvy overlord who believes the cause of your boyfriend’s daughter is absolute bullshit.

#tags. slight hurt/comfort, slight jealousy, nsfw (+18), fluff, smut, vox being a hell of a friend, lucifer being vulnerable as hell,

a/n. fuuuuck i forgot to post this under the request but this was the request that i wrote this for <33 didn''t even remember they wanted fluff which is lucky bc i suck at fluff so i don't write it too often but i ended up writing in fluff anyway bc it felt appropriate for the fic SO

masterlist. request something :>

“Sir, someone is here to see you.”

Vox growled. His office would have been pitch black if it weren’t for the multitude of tv screens that stared right back at him, boring holes into his screen. They buzzed and whined with a cyan glare bright enough to light the entire pentagram. Claw marks left the edges of his head unpolished, his bowtie askew as his teeth grinded so hard he wanted to encounter a system error.

“Tell Val I am not in the mood for sorting out whatever’s got his panties in a twist this time—”

“Someone else, sir.”

“Well don’t just stand there you useless fuck! Who the fuck is it?” Static shocks ruptured from the wires on his head as he jumped out of his chair fuming. 

The employee pulled one of the handles of Vox’s grand doors. In pranced a sunlit woman with a grin that stained her cheeks red. On her arms were shopping bags lined all the way down their forearms, marking their weight on her flesh.

You pulled your rose-tinted sunglasses away from your face as you cocked a brow.

“What, are you not happy to see me Vicky?” 

“When are you gonna stop calling me that, you absolute slut!” Vox beamed, and as if a new line of code had entered his program, he shedded his jacket off to peel your shopping bags off you as he set them on his couch.

“What brings you back here after all this time, whore? And whose money are you wearing because I know there’s no goddamn way that’s all yours,” Vox laughed through his clearly lighthearted remarks. 

“Whatever. Whore is right because you’ll never guess who I’m fucking.”

.

On the edge of the pride ring resided halls and halls of vintage red wallpaper and intricate gold decor. Knocking frantically at her father’s door just to ask where his partner had gone was never how Charlie would have imagined her morning to go, ever, but here she was, knees wobbling with her hands clasped together as she waited no longer than a second before she had her fist in the air again to—

“Charlie?” 

“Dad!”

When Charlie had asked of your whereabouts, Lucifer simply frowned, though a hint of terror struck his shrunken pupils.

“Uh—I thought she was with you? Don’t you guys have that trust building exercise thing on today—”

“Yes! Yes that is precisely why I am panicking—she’s not in her room and she never misses our gatherings! Dad, how do you not know where she is?” Charlie screeched anxiously.

“Relax, Charlie I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for—”

“For her not to tell her own boyfriend where she’s going?” Charlie seethed with dirt kicked into her tone. 

“Let me call her, okay?” Lucifer pulled his phone out and speed dialed you. 

Something in his room buzzed intermittently. 

Charlie peered into her father’s room, only to find another phone rattling on the further bedside table.

Lucifer looked over his shoulder to the same view. His shoulders dropped.

“Ohhh no.”

.

“Face it baby, I got bigger bucks than daddy could ever conjure up.”

“Vox!” You punched him in the shoulder, unable to hold back laughs that pulled at the bottom of your stomach.

“What? Oh my god, you actually call him that in bed don’t you, you bitch? Holy shit, you really are a slut!” Vox cracked up after you both had left his building. “Where to?” 

“A few blocks away I got something to show you in the ma …”

Your lips fell numb when your gaze fell on a certain man with a white overcoat tailing in the wind as he approached your direction with a storm in his steps. He had been looking at his sides—your hand moved to shove Vox even before your body could follow.

“Ow, what—”

“Go.”

“Babe, what’s—”

“Vox go GO! Back in now!” You spun him on his heel and elbowed him back into the glass doors of his building lobby.

“Honey?” 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

He called your name, loud and clear as day that even the ruby skies of hell echoed it.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Vox deadpanned.

“Hey!”

Both yours and Vox’s heads turned to the sound, Lucifer just a few strides away from possibly opening a portal down a ring.

“You!” Lucifer barked, gaze locked with Vox’s. “The fuck are you doing calling my girlfriend ‘babe’?” 

“Oh, that’s not—”

“Lie to me and I swear to fucking god I’ll make sure they’ll be prying you for parts.”

“Luci.”

“What?” His head snapped in your direction.

A silent gasp escaped you. 

His shoes hadn’t nearly been dragged through as much gravel as his voice had been. It was something he’d dug up from the depths of his chest like it was nothing—and it brimmed with the filth of his own disdain. 

Lucifer blinked hard as he shook his head. “Honey, I didn’t—”

“We’re just friends.”

“I know that but—”

“It’s an expression.”

Lucifer blinked a few times again, and with each blink he lost more and more tension in his brows, his shoulders—even his lips parted, perhaps to say something, perhaps not.

You and Vox were frozen halfway through the door so Lucifer kicked him in and shut the door quickly to leave you and himself out on the street.

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” Lucifer asked, and it was like he placed a pillow to your head with the way his tone softened. His thumb had somehow ended up stroking soft circles on the back of your palm as he held your hand.

Vox stayed inside but his prying eyes stared through the glass nonetheless. He crossed his arms.

“Don’t look at him, darling,” Lucifer consoled with a lowered voice. He delicately took your chin and pivoted it back to him. “Look at me.”

“Look, can we talk about this back at the hotel?” You asked, but with the tone you used, you were teetering on the edge of pleading. “I’m … I’m sorry.”

“Oh, honey,” Lucifer cooed, tucking away any small pieces of hair that hung over your face. “Of course we can.”

All you could do was give Vox a weary glance before you ducked down into Lucifer’s car and disappeared in the distance.

.

The ride back had not been short of thick silences that hung in the air. Everytime you looked to him for some sort of emotion, there was nothing for you to read; his complexion was a still pond resting under the moon’s grace. Not even anger bubbled up the surface—and this is solely based on your assumption of what he must have been feeling, because he was a blank page. It’s only reasonable. 

Lucifer stopped at the newly built hazbin parking lot but didn’t pull out the key.

He looked at you expectantly, turning even his upper body to face you. 

You bit your lip.

“You don’t wanna go inside first?” A squeak of a voice was all you managed.

“I don’t want Charlie to see us upset,” Lucifer reasoned solemnly as he frowned at the floor before he returned his attentive gaze to you. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out in here.”

“I’m … ashamed, okay,” you exhaled, folding your arms over your chest as you slouched forward. “I’m in hell for a reason. I know it looks bad but I’ve known Vox since he was alive. And I still believe in Charlie’s cause! I’m doing better … you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do, sweetie,” Lucifer blurted immediately, holding your arms like he was the glue to keep you from crumbling apart. “But why did you … did you think I wasn’t going to understand if you had told me?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Even I wouldn’t have understood if I were in your shoes. I mean, I act like a completely different person around him. And I know what Vox has done, trying to send in Sir Pentious as a spy. It’s horrible. But he wasn’t always like that. Or, maybe he was but—never with me.”

“Honey, I trust you more than just about anyone in this hell. And fuck, that’s difficult in this side of the world, right? I mean—I just … you had me thinking the worst. Well, maybe not the worst but—”

“You thought I was cheating on you, didn’t you?”

“No, never,” Lucifer denied immediately as his eyes widened but his brows furrowed. “I knew it was some kind of mistake. I know you’d never do that to me. But you know … catching up with an overlord like it’s a regular tuesday still raises a few questions if—”

“I know that. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’m sorry,” you repeated rigidly, curling into yourself so much that your head landed on his shoulder as he still held your arms. 

Lucifer pulled back to hold your face by the cheeks, and you didn’t struggle against him as he pressed his forehead on yours, his hat tilting up to accomodate you. 

“How about a kiss and we’ll call it even?” He smiled, and you felt his warmth spread to your cheeks.

You grinned back. “Okay.”

You tilted your chin up and gave him a kiss, and both of you had sustained it longer than either of you had expected. Your hand cupped his own over your cheek. 

Your lips finally parted, but not much before you both reconnected again, then again, and the third time your mouth was a little more open—and Lucifer’s tongue slithered inside. 

Your tongue met his, and they rolled over each other every time you kissed him. A few more kisses, and suddenly you were biting his lip lightly. He chuckled.

“I can see you’re eager to make it up to me, princess,” he said in that voice he knew drove you up the wall.

“I am,” you hummed, a little more innocently than you had intended. 

“Well, what are you gonna do?” He asked, genuine curiosity brewing in a higher tone.

You slipped away from his flowerbud grasp and pulled the lever of your seat. The backrest declined all the way backwards, and you laid down comfortably while your thumb slid under your dress and hooked around something that was already mildly damp.

“I’m gonna sit back …”

You chuckled as Lucifer’s eyes followed your every movement like a moth to a lamp; he followed the way your underwear slid down your knees before you folded your legs up to your chest to fully rid yourself from the garment. You tossed your underwear in his face before he could get a good view of what he’s getting himself into. 

He shook his head in a jolt, crumpling your panties and stuffing them into his pocket anxiously. But by then you were modest again, with your dress covering your thighs but still riding up dangerously high. 

“And let you decide the rest,” you finished in a thin breath.

“Goodness, okay, woo! Okay—” Lucifer sputtered and fanned his overcoat as he averted his gaze. It didn’t last long when his gaze gravitated towards your core that had been concealed but outlined your dress.

You bit your lip. “Well?”

Lucifer’s shoulder emerged from his coat as he shrugged one side of it off, and your gaze magnetized to the view as it slipped down him like a snake traversing down a tree. 

He planted his knee on the closer edge of your seat and it didn’t take long for him to shift your legs closer together, allowing space for his knees on either side of your thighs. Though, steadying himself naturally had his chest protruding as he held onto the car ceiling for support. His muscles peeked through the folds of his dress shirt, and the same can be said with his chest under his waistcoat. But that—that was no complaint. 

He finally fell to you with only his forearms to keep him up. His eyelids sank, his gaze indecisive between your eyes and your dry lips.

He settled on neither when he ducked below your jaw and planted kisses along it before he strayed downwards. 

The spaghetti string of your dress slid down your shoulder the more your squirmed at Lucifer’s nibbles. You knew the moment he caught sight of this because he hesitated for a tenth of a second. 

He grinned. He took it between his fingers delicately and slid it down further. 

“Whoops,” he grinned. 

Glossy silicon mocked him as it peeked out from what had been peeled off you. 

“Luci, careful with that, I’ll need to put it back on later—”

Lucifer tore it off you anyway, tossing it to the back with his overcoat. “I’ll give you my coat when we go in, you’ll be fine.”

“Luci!” You laughed as he did the same with the other, your nipples stiffened from the cold air of the car. 

Lucifer sat on your pelvis, his hands traveling under your boobs to cradle them. 

You both have had sex multiple times together, and yet every time he removes undergarments off you, he enters a dazed trance like it was something new. Something to bask in the wonders of. 

He massaged your breasts gently, and it didn’t take long before he ducked down and had his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, one hand twisting and playing with the other.

A noise bubbled in your throat but you held your breath and bit your lip. Watching Lucifer hadn’t been any help; he cocked a brow at you, and a cheeky grin still made its way to the red circles on his cheeks as he quicked his tongue’s flicks against you. You gritted your teeth, a squeak making it past your lips. 

His hand abandoned the other nipple, but before you could whine in protest a new sensation rose in your lower stomach as Lucifer shifted his entire body further down.

His fingers had already been deep beneath your folds, your clit sitting pretty between as he pinched it and rubbed it in his grasp.

“Luci … fuck …”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Hell, you hated just how raspy his voice gets when he’s worked up. That by itself had been a leg-opener all on its own. “That’s it. Let me hear you sing.”

Your legs flinched at the jolt of pleasure his fingers brought, and Lucifer took this opportunity to lift the hem of your dress for easier access—and perhaps, a pretty view.

Every so often, he’d bring the threat of pushing his middle finger past your walls, but through the haze of pleasure, it was impossible to read his intentions when he easily could have been using your juices to lubricate his ministrations on your clit.

It had been like the wave of a wand, the way his free hand undid his tie. It dangled loose below his collar that he used to straighten out so diligently; something once so clean soon turned into a crumpled mess in your name. 

His wrist pivoted down to the buttons on his waistcoat. The faintest flick of his thumb and suddenly his waistcoat hung dead on his torso before he rubbed faster on your clit, making your squeal. 

Cold air brushed past your arousal at the sudden absence of him, and your walls throbbed against each other in response; they bruised and ached and when Lucifer turned down the brightness of the car light, it was all you could feel besides the leather your nails were sinking into.

“Luci, please …”

“Please what, honey?”

“It hurts,” you whined. You didn’t mean to, and in fact a burning sense of shame rose up to your neck and cheeks as sweat tore through the pores on your forehead but all you could do was grab his hand.

“I’m coming, daddy’s coming.”

A slow zipping sound ensued and just as quickly, the head of his erection pressed into your folds and your dripping walls pushed back from the pressure.

You moaned and grabbed Lucifer’s shoulders out of raw instinct, which brought him closer to you. 

“You want it all, princess?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” your mouth sagged numb from having to carry your writhing heart in your throat. The vulnerability of his skin on yours, the way his head was just so warm compared to the cold air earlier—your pussy throbbed once more.

 “Are you sure?”

“Please please please Luci I can’t—oh! Fuck!”

He pushed his length into you, your neck arching back as you grabbed a fistful of his shirt from where your hands hung around his neck.

Your throat clogged with the embarrassing sounds you knew you would have let out if you had no restraint left. You closed your eyes, knowing well that they were halfway to the back of your head. 

Your stomach seemed to make way for his size in you, tossing and spreading the ache to your limbs as your entire body steeled to accommodate him and the space he filled in you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

You nodded, and a hole punctured through your throat as you sighed shakily. “Yes, god—” 

“Don’t say his name,” Lucifer breathed, his hand soft on your neck as he looked at your lips then back up at you. “If you have to say someone’s name, let it be mine.”

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing your brain conjured, and the only thing you could utter when all else in there had been undone. 

Lucifer kissed your jaw. “Don’t be sorry baby.”

He took your lips in his, his forked tongue brushing past your teeth once more. “Don’t be sorry.”

It was barely considered movement when he pulled out less than half his entire length and pushed in gently, as if you were something fragile he couldn’t afford to drop. You bit your lip and hummed at how smooth he slid into you, how your juices coated him beyond what was needed. 

He pulled out quickly but reentered languidly, like a wave finding its way to shore your core clenched at the nerves that tingled in you, the bruises almost sated in what it yearned for as he thrusted again, and your heart spewed.

“Fuck, if you make a sound like that again I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself,” Lucifer panted. “You’re so pretty, it makes me tremble.”

You reached up to give him another kiss, tilting your head along with the circles spinning in it. “Do whatever you want to me. You deserve that much.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to treat you like fucking royalty. Savor every inch if you,” Lucifer hissed through his pleasure. A choked moan left you, causing Lucifer to smile. “Yeah, see? Just like that princess. Fuck, taking me so well …”

With how soft his thrusts were, pressure subsided into more liquid pleasure that sloshed over your nerves. They lit up like christmas lights in your brain as you both moved in tandem to Lucifer’s pace. 

A fire had started at your nape from the body heat that had nowhere to go, sweat dripping from your hairline and paving wavy lines of hair that caused your forehead to glisten. Your collarbones warmed up in a different way, Lucifer’s hot breath filling the space between the both of you. 

His thrusts grew anxious over time, but his hips never once hit your ass which might have scalded your stomach further; the fact that this man possessed an iron grip over his control in his strokes, he had been careful not to taint you—he only took from places he knew both of you would be enraptured in—and absolutely nothing less. 

“Honey, I can’t—” he hissed through gritted teeth as his fingers curled in your hair. His eyes wandered down to how your breasts bobbed to his strokes. He moaned your name, and if the car hadn’t been shaking from Lucifer’s rutting, it shook from the way he proclaimed your name and dropped his head like he was bowing to a god. “Holding me so tight—you worried I’m gonna let go, sweetie?”

“No—ngh! You just feel so good I c-can’t!” You yelped in time with each thrust that followed. “Luci, I—fuck!”

His head perked up, just like the bundle of nerves in that oh-so familiar spot. An old friend. 

Lucifer gave a determined grin, sweat trickling down his cheek as he paused to wipe it away. 

“Well, hello,” he greeted in a low sultry voice.

He resumed fucking you, but this time he had you screaming his name as his length rubbed up against that spot your body purred to. You shivered and your walls clenched, causing Lucifer to falter.

“F-Fuck, that’s it, good girl,” he grunted in between controlled thrusts that had your gut squeezing. He never once missed. 

When your walls fluttered, Lucifer chuffed through his teeth and through the fog of your satisfaction, you indulged in the smell of cotton candy sweat. 

“You’re close, princess, so close, I can feel it.”

You gritted your teeth with whatever strength you had left, even your hands had begun to slip from Lucifer’s shoulders. 

 “You?” Was all you could manage. 

“Me? Baby, seeing you like this has me fucked out,” Lucifer huffed. “Shit!”

You squeezed his shoulders before he could pull out.

“In me, Luci!”

He froze, shaking his head to wave away his own daze to focus on you, the things your … request entailed. 

“Darling, I don’t have a condom on,” he whispered as the inner corners of his brow quivered. 

“You’d make beautiful fucking babies, Luci—I wanna carry them.” Your voice had been obliterated from the sounds Lucifer had fucked out of you. Wispy breaths was what it had become—but the red in your cheeks and your weakened yet felicious state made Lucifer smile.

“You’re not thinking straight,” he said your name and it was nearly enough to get you back down from the clouds. “C’mon, honey …”

“Luci …” you whined. “You’re so goddamn hot when you’re being responsible …”

“Yeah?” He laughed softly, cradling your cheek in his hand. 

“Yeah …”

“Let’s finish you up, okay?” He reached up to kiss your forehead but you squeaked from the fact that his length slid deep into you in the process. “Ah, sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” you quoted him from last time, and his surprise melted into a warm smile instead. “Please fuck me.”

“As you wish.”

You screamed brokenly as he continued his ruthless pace from before, and he remembered the exact angle to hit. Your nerves were about ready to jump out from your body as you skyrocketed back into the clouds, your orgasm coming sooner than you could warn him. 

“Cumming!” He gritted through his teeth as his horns shot up from his head and you both came together with Lucifer’s cum hitting your dress instead.

Your head hung off the car seat’s headrest. Sweat shimmered on the leather you laid on, and your legs trembled from how long they’d been held at the same position. The only thing you two shared now was open-mouth breaths. You thought of moving, but your muscles were well past its limit to even be lifted.

Lucifer twisted around to grab tissues from the passenger seat compartment. In just a few seconds, he wiped out most of the evidence of himself on your dress. By this time, his horns were long gone and his eyes had returned back to its original form.

“Fuck … I didn’t think this through …” Lucifer grumbled to himself as he hit his temple with his palm. He ran his fingers through his hair before he mustered a weak smile for you. “Wait here, I’ll grab your clothes from your room.”

You exhaled audibly as he vanished with a swirl of sparkling red smoke. 

A few breaths of silence by yourself wasn’t ideal, especially when you felt the whine and ache of your limbs in the fact that you were as good as scattered leaves across autumn grass. 

Just then, your phone buzzed from the cupholder.

You winced as you bent to take it.

Brat >:)

you better not be fucking him right now i swear to FUCKING GOD [ 13:06 ]

you disappear for years and suddenly you’re back and you’re telling me YOU’RE DISAPPEARING AGAIN?&2$:$$3;: FUCKING [ 13:05 ]

HELLO? THE FUCK [ 12 :57 ]

i’m not gonna let even the king of hell himself keep you from me [ 12:16 ]

because i am not done with you yet [ 12:15 ]

bitch you better show me whatever the fuck you wanted to show me earlier before daddy decided to whisk you away like some fucking fairy tale prince [ 12:15 ]

You chuckled as you swiped the notification.

You [ 13:06 ] : bitch you know the dick is good cmon now

Vox [ 13:06 ] : i mean this in the most platonic and murderous way possible, i will fuck you myself if that’ll get you to ACTUALLY BE A FRIEND AND VISIT ME INSTEAD OF DISAPPEARING FOR YEARS

Vox [ 13:06 ] : i already have to deal with the heartbreak of al

Vox [ 13:06 ] : ykw doesn’t matter THE POINT IS THAT YOU ARE THE SHITTIEST FUCKING FRIEND AND I MISS YOU IS THAT NOT REASON ENOUGH

You [ 13:07 ] : okay, okay, how about this sunday then lmaoo

Vox [ 13:07 ] : you better fucking believe i’ll be blowing a fucking hole through that radio prick’s hotel just to pick you the fuck up asshole

You [ 13:07 ] : if i didn’t know any better vicky i would have assumed you’re actually coming to pick alastor up HAHAHAHAAHAHAH

Vox : ( typing … )

Your phone levitated out of your hands and when you followed where it zipped off to—

“Luci!” You sprung up from the declined backrest in surprise.

Lucifer squinted at your phone as he swiped his thumb down on your screen.

“First of all, I’m honored that you’re telling people how well I pleasure you. Second of all,” Lucifer paused, leaning into you as he used his free arm to hold himself up to you. “Vox is in a world of hurt if he thinks I’m gonna let him lay a finger on you.”

“Yeah?” You copied the way Lucifer says it and watched as his face reddened.

You noticed your spare clothes on his lap and you lifted the dress over your head and discarded it on the floor of the backseat. 

You held out your hand for Lucifer to hand you your clothes.

He simply looked at your hand, then back at your naked body, then back at your hand as took it in his own.

You laughed. Hard.

“What—what’s happening why’re you—”

“The clothes, baby!” 

“Oh—Oh! Right! Shit!” He finally handed you an oversized shirt, fresh underwear and a pair of shorts you used to at-home wear. “I thought you were asking for another round or something, holy shit—”

“I mean …” you smirked. 

“Honey …” Lucifer warned, as if trying to keep a predator from attacking. 

“Oh? You don’t wanna? My bad,” you replied innocently. “I was just wondering if Vox was free tonight—”

“I know you’re trying to get a rise out of me but honey …” Lucifer trailed off as he flipped your phone and shoved it into his back pocket. 

He crossed over to your seat once more and pinned you back down where you once were, one knee pressed on the side of your seat as his hands ended up on either side of your neck.

“I hate to remind you that I am the fucking devil,” his voice dripped with a poison much worse than what you’ve heard from Alastor’s static. His horns hadn’t sprouted out yet but with his eyes aching red, it wasn’t too far from reappearing. “And if you love me as much as I love you then there is no goddamn way in this realm I am sharing you with anyone else let alone some overlord who thinks Alexander is worth anyone’s fucking time.”

“It’s Alastor and—” you paused, combing through your hair idly. “Luci, Vox is only a friend from the living world—“

“A friend who thinks he can fuck you.”

“He’s in hell for a reason.” You crossed your arms.

Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, the red dissipating from them once they reopened. 

“Listen, honey, I—” Lucifer’s gaze lifted away from you for a moment, almost like he’d been overwhelmed with the words clogged in his throat. “You’re someone I can’t afford to … mess up … again. And I know that means simply letting you be. But also, I’ve just—I’ve lost so much, and I only just got Charlie back so I …”

You lifted your arm as your hand fell on his cheek, your thumb softly stroking him back and forth. 

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he placed his hand on yours. 

“I know Vox is just a friend. And I know it’s insane to think I’ll lose you to him, but … at the end of the day, this is hell. He still mocks the very thing we’re trying to achieve and I get that you’re not like that and that you’re not easily manipulated but I just …”

“Luci …” you muttered. You sat up and kissed him chastely on the cheek. 

“I think about losing you a lot. I think about it to an irrational degree. So it’s not actually something you can fix. It’s something I have to do on my own.”

“Even if that’s true, I can still do my best to be with you and make sure you feel loved everyday. I really was a dick today, I had no idea you were … I’m s—”

“It’s okay. We …” Lucifer chuckled weakly. “We made up, remember?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Luci … you know I love you, right?”

“Like the sun loves the moon,” Lucifer said. 

And you knew where it came from, maybe not its exact whereabouts but just how deep it was embedded to him, that statement; he himself had witnessed the creation of the sun and the moon. He knew the tides the two shared, the way their yearning for each other’s pull had been the natural way of things, the only way the people could ever experience day like they do night.

I know you love me because we love like it’s fate.

.

You and Lucifer walked into the hotel, your back slouched with Lucifer’s overcoat hanging over your shoulders as you folded your arms beneath them. 

“Hey Charlie,” Lucifer greeted, and he told her daughter who was already making her way to you that you weren’t feeling well and that you needed rest. Of course, Charlie nodded and resumed her activities with her other friends. 

You retired to Lucifer’s room, the left side of the bed while he took the right.

“I love you,” your chest exhausted what it had been used to holding for him, until you saw him.

“I love you, too,” Lucifer hummed back, a sigh escaping him like cherry blossoms in the wind. 

“I love you for the soul you are beneath your bones.”

[junkuna]

°❀.ೃ࿔* ink me like one of your french girls - sukuna x reader

chapter 6 : saviour ˎˊ˗

─────────────────────

࿔ pairing - tattooartist!sukuna x tattooartist!fem!reader

I summary - mahito is here and he is a villain we dislike him, he is important ! ! just the usual banter but things start to get a little weirdddd with mahito

࿔ warnings - ok here we go, mahito being an asshole, as in making u uncomfortable while u tattoo him. mild violence, (pushing / shoving)

࿔ fic tags - they're both idiots so 0 communication, DEFO gets frustrating at times / shameless smut, mostly vanilla though for the chapters ive already written / megumi is ur apprentice which is cute / sukuna + yujir BROTHERS / mahito is an asshole, mentions of attempted sexual assault. / enemies (ish?) to lovers / trying 2 go 4 a slow burn but i fear it's not as slow as i wanted it to be. will add more as we progress probably be i suck at describing my work

࿔ wc - 4.5k

a/n - forgot 2 mention i’m making a few tweaks from the original version on ao3 to upload here, i wrote this when i was balls deep in exams and i defo rushed some things, so if u see some differences that’s why !!

— enjoy! reblogs r appreciated ty 4 all the luv <3

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You woke up to the violent pounding of your own heart, your head stuffed full of cotton and regret.

Groaning, you flopped onto your side and squeezed your eyes shut against the cruel brightness leaking through the curtains. Your mouth felt like it had been stuffed with sandpaper. Every muscle in your body ached like you’d been trampled by a herd of elephants in steel-toed boots.

Never again, you thought bitterly, clutching the edge of the blanket like it might anchor you to the earth.

Your phone buzzed weakly on the nightstand. You cracked one eye open, grimacing as you fumbled for it.

No missed calls. No disasters. Just a reminder about your only client today—a small booking at noon. Praise be.

You sighed into your pillow, giving yourself exactly three more minutes of self-pity before you dragged your body upright. Every movement felt like a personal attack.

Shuffling into the kitchen, you went through the sacred hangover ritual: two painkillers, one giant glass of water, and the strongest coffee you could manage without your hands shaking too much.

The bitter taste slapped you awake a little. Just enough to stumble into the shower.

You let the water beat down on your head, trying to wash the nausea away, trying to scrub off the weird haze clinging to your memories of last night.

The bar. The drinks. The stupid giggling.

Yuji trying to say something and Sukuna cutting him off.

And—oh god—stumbling home with Sukuna, hanging off his arm like some drunk bimbo.

You squeezed shampoo into your palm with more force than necessary, scowling at yourself. It’s over. It’s fine. Move on.

By the time you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel, you felt slightly more human. Still gross. Still achy. But upright.

You padded back into your room, grabbing a loose tank top and your old low-rise jeans from the chair by your bed. As you pulled them on, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror.

Your fingers hovered over the hem of your tank top.

Lower back, just above your jeans—there it was.

The stupid serpent Sukuna had inked on you. You stared at it for a long moment, memories flickering.

And then you remembered something else—a flash of his arm under the porch light.

The little flower. Still there.

You dropped onto the edge of your bed, staring at nothing.

Wait… did I actually see it?

Or was I drunk out of my mind and imagining shit?

You tugged your fingers through your damp hair in frustration. Everything about last night was a blur, soaked in alcohol and bad decisions.

Maybe it was real.

Maybe you wanted it to be.

You shook your head violently, standing up so fast your vision swam.

“Whatever,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing your bag off the chair. “I’ll check next time I see him.”

You yanked on your sneakers, ignoring the faint twist in your stomach that had nothing to do with the hangover, and slung your bag over your shoulder.

There were clients to tattoo.

You didn’t have the luxury of a man to pay your bills.

And you certainly didn’t have time to be daydreaming about some stupid little flower on Sukuna’s stupidly muscular arm.

You stumbled downstairs to the shop, every step sending a dull throb through your skull. The familiar scent of disinfectant and ink filled your nose—comforting, grounding. It helped. A little.

You flipped the sign on the door to Open, moving slower than usual as you went about the motions of setting up your station. Wiping surfaces, double-checking your machine, laying out fresh needles even though you already did it yesterday.

Muscle memory carried you through it, your brain still stuck somewhere between your bed and the half-formed memories of last night.

You were bent over the counter, sorting through ink caps, when a sharp knock rattled the door.

You blinked, confused.

You weren’t expecting your client for another half hour.

Straightening, you wiped your hands on your jeans and went to unlock it. The door creaked open, and you found yourself face-to-face with a man standing awkwardly on the threshold.

Tall. Skinny. Maybe mid-twenties. His eyes were a little too wide, his smile a little too eager. He had long, light blue hair. And stitches all over his face that seemed to hold him together.

Ew…Why did he look so weird?

“Uh, hey,” he said, voice jittery. “I’m here for the appointment?”

“Oh. Mahito?”

“That’s me!”

You frowned. “You’re early. Your booking’s at noon.”

He shrugged, stepping inside anyway. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, bouncing as he moved. “Yeah, I figured better early than late, right?”

You bit back a sigh. The logical part of your brain agreed—it was better than a no-show—but your pounding head deeply resented his existence right now.

“Fine,” you muttered, locking the door behind him. “Let’s just get you set up.”

He beamed like you’d handed him a medal.

You led him toward your station, mentally crossing out the ten minutes you were planning to spend mainlining coffee in peace. Whatever. The sooner you started, the sooner you could send him on his merry way.

As he settled into the chair, you stole a glance at the design he’d sent over when he booked.

A snake coiled around a dagger. Classic. Nothing too complicated. Nothing you couldn’t hammer out even half-dead from a hangover. But it wasn’t really your style, made you wonder why he didn’t take this hellish design to the epitome of hell across the street.

Still, there was something about the guy that made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Maybe the way he kept tapping his foot. Maybe the way his eyes darted around the shop, like he was memorizing it. Maybe the weird too-long way he stared at your arms when you rolled up your sleeves.

You kept your head down, pretending not to notice, but the feeling crawled unpleasantly under your skin.

As you switched to a finer needle for the detail work, you broke the silence, letting your voice slice the tension in the room.

“You know,” you said, not looking up, “there’s a shop across the street that specializes in this kind of design. You probably would’ve been more at home there.”

The buzzing of your machine filled the room for a beat before he answered, you sit down at your station and begin sketching the stencil.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, his voice oddly light. “I know.”

You paused for half a second, glancing up at him under your lashes.

He was smiling again. That same stretched, too-wide smile. It was kinda gross, the way his stitches stretched taut over his cheeks.

You imagined what’d happen if they were to unravel, would he unravel?

“Just figured I’d come here,” he added, snapping you out of your thoughts. His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. “More interesting artists over here.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, wiping a line of ink clean with a firm hand.

“Right,” you said dryly. “Because that’s why you booked.”

He chuckled, the sound skittering unpleasantly down your spine.

“Can’t blame a guy for wanting a pretty girl to put her hands on him, right?”

You stiffened instinctively, your hand pausing mid-motion.

Then you forced yourself to keep moving, burying the twitch of discomfort under a layer of professional detachment.

“Yeah, I can,” you muttered, keeping your tone clipped.

You worked in silence for a few more moments, the machine’s hum filling the air. It was almost soothing, if only the client weren’t so… strange.

Finally, you broke the silence, leaning back slightly as you checked the stencil. “Alright, so where do you want it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. You glanced up, expecting him to point to his arm or leg, or maybe even his chest. Instead, his gaze flicked toward his lower back, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“V-line,” he said, his voice low.

Your brow furrowed. Lower back? You could feel your professional instincts kicking in, the slight flare of irritation tightening your jaw. That’s an odd choice, you thought.

You gave him a skeptical glance. “That’s a pretty personal spot, you sure?”

He met your eyes, his expression too calm, too satisfied. “Yeah. I like it there. Thought it’d look good, you know, a bit more private… more intimate.”

A chill skittered up your spine as the weight of his words hit you. You cleared your throat, trying to mask the creeping discomfort crawling up your neck.

“Don’t be weird about it,” you sighed, exhaling slowly as you grabbed a fresh sheet of tracing paper. “Okay then. If you’re sure.”

He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, his lips curling into that too-soft smile again. “I’m sure.”

The next few minutes were awkwardly quiet. You focused on your work, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air. The spot he’d chosen—right at the curve of his V-line—made you feel strangely exposed. Not in a physical way, but in the subtle, unsettling way he watched you. His eyes never quite left you as you worked, the silence hanging heavy between each slow motion of your hand.

When you finally got the stencil placed, you checked it once more. “Alright, all set. You ready?”

He nodded. “Ready.”

You gave the machine a final test run, the needle buzzing sharply. And then, with one last deep breath, you set to work.

The tattooing felt… different. Even though you were in your element, you couldn’t shake the weird, uncomfortable energy surrounding this guy. He shifted every few minutes, tapping his foot again, and occasionally muttering under his breath as if talking to himself. He kept looking down at you while you worked, his beady eyes drilling holes into the top of your head.

You were just about done with the shading when he suddenly spoke.

“You ever think about getting one there?” He gestured vaguely toward the area you were tattooing.

You glanced up at him, your eyes narrowing.

“What?” you asked, not sure you heard him right.

“A tattoo there,” he repeated, his grin widening. “I think it’d look good on you. You’ve got the right body for it.”

Your stomach churned, but you ignored the discomfort, instead focusing on keeping your hands steady.

“I already have a tattoo, i don’t want another,” you said shortly, your voice sharp enough to slice through the uncomfortable haze in the room.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the slight tilt of his head, the way his smile twitched wider.

“Yeah?” he said, voice dripping with false casualness. “Really?”

You didn’t look up. You concentrated harder on the curve of the design, tracing the needle exactly where it needed to go.

“Just shut up,” you muttered.

He laughed—low, almost mocking. “C’mon. Not like it’s a big deal. Show me.”

The needle buzzed harder under your hand as your grip tightened. You forced yourself to finish the last line with precision before you sat back and switched off the machine, your heart thudding with an ugly pulse behind your ribs.

“No,” you said flatly, meeting his eyes for the first time. “I’m here to work, not entertain you.”

He held your gaze for a beat too long, the amusement on his face fading into something harder to read.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t let the discomfort show even though you felt like punching something.

After a second, he clicked his tongue and looked away, stretching leisurely like he hadn’t just made your skin crawl.

“Alright, alright,” he said, too easily. “No need to be so uptight.”

You said nothing. Just grabbed the wrap and the ointment, brisk and efficient, wrapping the fresh ink as fast as you could without being careless.

You peeled off your gloves with a snap and turned toward the counter.

“Aftercare instructions are there,” you said, voice cold. “Follow them. Or don’t. Up to you.”

He gave a low chuckle as he slid off the chair and collected his jacket.

He gave a low chuckle as he slid off the chair and collected his jacket. The tension in your shoulders only slightly eased—until he straightened, turned back to you, and asked, voice smooth as oil:

“Mind if I get your number? So I can follow up on the next one.”

You paused, gloved hands resting on the counter. Without thinking much, you shook your head.

“No,” you said flatly. “Not interested.”

His smile vanished in an instant, replaced by a flash of something dark. He took a step toward you—too close—and his fingers brushed the edge of the counter with enough force that the bottles rattled.

“Come on,” he hissed. “Don’t be like that.”

You recoiled, heart pounding. “I said no,” you repeated, voice cold and steady.

His jaw clenched. His eyes hardened. “Don’t be a bitch, you’re not even that pretty. I’m doing you a fucking favour.”

Before you could react, he lashed out, shoving his hand against your chest with unsettling strength. You stumbled back, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey!” you snapped, winded but furious.

He ignored you and lunged forward, slamming his jacket against the wall and knocking a framed print to the floor. It shattered against the tile in a spray of glass and splintered wood.

“Don’t test me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Anger flared through you, burning away your hangover haze. You grabbed your nearest tool—a small metal tube used for wrapping—and pressed it into his ribs, hard enough to make him grunt. He staggered, blinking, caught off-balance.

“Get the hell out,” you ordered, your tone deadly calm beneath the adrenaline.

He hesitated, chest heaving. The moment stretched before he shoved off the counter, sending a bottle of green soap skittering across the floor, and stormed toward the door. Before he left, he spat over his shoulder: “This isn’t over.” Then he slammed the door so hard the lock shuddered.

You stood frozen for a moment—heart racing, palms slick with ink and a slick sheen of sweat—before reality surged back in. You dumped out the chair and locked the door, the clack of the deadbolt echoing in the suddenly cavernous shop.

Glass crunched under your boots as you walked to the wreckage. You knelt and swept the largest pieces into a dustpan, hands moving methodically even though your blood still roiled. The small metal tube you’d wielded glittered on the floor; you stuffed it into a drawer as evidence—just in case.

The thought barely registered before the world tilted.

Your breath caught, sharp and shallow in your chest.

The edges of the room blurred, the neon colors of ink bottles bleeding together like melting wax.

You gripped the counter. Hard. Fingernails digging into the wood.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale—

No, too fast, too thin, like you couldn’t pull enough air into your lungs no matter how wide you opened your mouth.

Your legs gave out and you sank to the floor, back pressed against the wall beneath the shelves. The coolness of the tiles seeped into your jeans, grounding you just enough to realize you were having a panic attack.

You pressed trembling hands against your thighs, trying to remember what you were supposed to do.

Count things. Focus on one thing. Breathe slow.

But your mind was a jumbled, chaotic mess—flashes of his hand pushing at your chest, the sound of glass breaking, the tone in his voice when he said “this wasnt over”?

What does that mean? Will he come back?

Your body shook, small tremors you couldn’t control, your skin cold and clammy.

You hated it. Hated feeling cornered. Hated feeling small.

You squeezed your eyes shut and dug your nails into your palms.

Five things you could feel: the rough denim of your jeans, the hard floor, the grain of the counter, your sticky skin, the cold air hitting your neck.

Four things you could see: the broken frame, the dustpan, the harsh fluorescent light, the scuff on your sneakers.

Three things you could hear: the hum of the fridge, the distant city traffic, the rush of blood in your ears.

Slow.

Focus.

Breathe.

You sat there for what felt like forever before the panic finally ebbed, leaving you drained and empty, like a sponge wrung out too tight.

You wiped your face with the back of your sleeve and slowly, carefully, pushed yourself up to your feet. Your legs wobbled, but you stayed standing.

The counter clock ticked forward. All this and the day hadn’t even properly started yet.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hold together all the pieces that felt like they might fall apart at any second. You needed to finish cleaning. You needed to make that call. You needed to—

The soft vibration of your phone buzzed against your hip.

You flinched instinctively, heart hammering again, but when you glanced at the screen, it was just a text.

Sukuna [11:56]: Busy?

You stared at it. Blinking once. Twice. And for some reason, the oddest wave of relief washed over you, unwanted but warm.

You didn’t answer right away.

Fuck. I mean, you didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

But the buzzing fear in your chest dulled just a little. Just enough to make you breathe again.

You stared at Sukuna’s message for a moment longer, the words flickering in your mind. It was a small thing, but somehow it felt like a lifeline. You had been holding your breath for so long, trapped in your own thoughts, and the simple fact that he had reached out made you feel just a little less alone in the chaos.

You took a breath, tried to push aside the tight knot in your chest, and typed back:

You [12:00]: Not busy, just cleaning up. What’s up?

The reply was swift, almost immediate.

Sukuna [12:00]: I’m coming over. 😛

Sukuna [12:00]: Shit, wrong emoji.

Sukuna [12:00]: I meant 👍🏽

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, even though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Typical Sukuna, teasing as always, as if he didn’t know just how much you were dreading the silence after everything that had happened. It wasn’t as though you didn’t enjoy his company—it was more the fact that right now, you couldn’t quite trust your own emotions. Everything felt raw, like you were standing on the edge of something, and you didn’t know which way to fall.

But he wasn’t going to let you wallow alone, was he? Much to your disdain.

The sound of the doorbell broke your spiraling thoughts.

You straightened up quickly, straightening your cami top and brushing at the sleeve of your jeans like you could somehow erase the heavy feeling inside you. The door opened with a faint creak, and there he was, leaning against the frame with that smirk you had come to recognize too well. His eyes skimmed over you, studying the way your shoulders were tight and your expression too carefully neutral.

“Don’t tell me you actually tried to clean this place by yourself,” he teased, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he stepped inside.

You rolled your eyes and pushed past him, trying to hide the knot in your throat. “I was doing fine until…” You trailed off, the words suddenly feeling heavy and unspoken.

Sukuna followed you to the back of the shop, raising an eyebrow as he took in the disarray, the subtle signs of chaos you hadn’t even realized were there. His gaze lingered on you, though, too sharp and perceptive for comfort.

“I was cleaning,” you muttered, turning away to grab your gloves. “What’s it to you?”

He clicked his tongue, and you could feel the shift in the air, like he was no longer just here to tease. His voice softened, just slightly, when he spoke next.

“I just came to steal more ink. Had a rough client?”

“Something like that.”

“Let me guess, they didn’t like your shitty minimalist stencils and walked out last minute.”

“Fuck you, asshole. I’m seriously not in the mood with your bullshit today, okay? So, wanna tell me why you’re here?”

He tilted his head at that.

“Something’s off with you. What happened?”

You paused, fingers freezing in midair as you worked the gloves on. It felt like the world was holding its breath, and for a second, you couldn’t find the words to speak. The truth was too heavy, too raw, and part of you still couldn’t shake the unease that crawled beneath your skin. You had already replayed the encounter with the client in your head a dozen times, trying to convince yourself it hadn’t been as bad as it had felt. But you knew it had been.

Taking a deep breath, you finally looked up, meeting his gaze.

“I had a client earlier today…” you began slowly. “He was… weird. Like, really weird.” You hesitated, swallowing. “He… He wasn’t okay with me saying no.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened immediately, his posture shifting as his eyes narrowed in concern. “What do you mean by that?”

You winced at the question, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “He asked for my number, kept pushing me after I said no. And when I wouldn’t give it to him…” You trailed off, biting your lip as the weight of it all hit you again. “It was so stupid, he just got mad and broke the stupid picture I had on the wall”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened even further, his brows furrowing. “Did he hurt you?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut. Your stomach twisted, your heart hammering in your chest. You shook your head quickly, the words escaping before you could stop them.

“…No. What do you care?”

But Sukuna wasn’t convinced. Without warning, he reached forward, his hand closing around your wrist with a gentleness that caught you off guard. His thumb traced the edge of your skin, and before you could pull away, he stopped, his gaze dropping to the first signs of a bruise on your wrist.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. His face softened, and the edge of his anger seemed to melt into something quieter, something more concerned.

His voice was barely a whisper as he asked, “Did he do this to you?”

You couldn’t speak. You just stood there, staring at the mark where his fingers had been, feeling the warmth of his touch against your skin. You had almost forgotten about the bruise in the whirlwind of everything else.

Sukuna’s thumb brushed against it again, and you felt your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the panic attack from earlier. The anger, the protectiveness in his eyes—it made something in you want to crumble. You didn’t want his pity, didn’t want to feel small. But in that moment, you felt something else—something you hadn’t expected.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough, “That shouldn’t have happened.”

”Well, yeah. I know it shouldn’t have. But it did—”

”I should’ve been there.”

You were surprised by the softness in his tone. Surprised by how… genuine it sounded. Everything about him usually screamed confidence, maybe even arrogance. But now, there was something else. Something deeper.

You looked at him, still holding your wrist, and you saw it clearly in his face—an expression of quiet sadness mixed with anger, as if he wished he could’ve been there, could’ve done something to prevent it.

You shook your head, trying to mask the vulnerability that crept in, pushing yourself back into that usual armor of indifference. “It’s fine. It’s over.”

But Sukuna didn’t let go. His fingers were still wrapped gently around your wrist, his thumb tracing circles along your bruise as if it physically pained him to see a mark on your body, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. It was as if the world outside didn’t exist—just the two of you standing there, the weight of everything in the silence between you.

“I’ll be here next time,” he said, his voice low, but firm. “If anything like this happens again, you call me.”

“Uh, sure.”

You swallowed hard, eyes dropping to where his fingers still cradled your wrist. It was almost too much, the way he was looking at you—like you were something fragile, something worth protecting. And maybe it was the adrenaline still crashing through your veins, or maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but the words tumbled out before you could think better of them.

“He said…” You hesitated, hearing the weight of the memory pressing against your ribs. “Before he left, he said… ‘This isn’t over. No idea what that means, I think he was just being angsty and throwing empty threats at me.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking sharply beneath his skin. His whole body went rigid, as if barely holding back some primal instinct. He dropped your wrist carefully, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he took a slow breath, and when he spoke, his voice was low.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, firm, like it was a promise. “I’ve got it covered.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sheer certainty in his voice. Sukuna, with all his rough edges and infuriating arrogance, didn’t make empty promises. You could tell by the way he said it—the way his shoulders straightened, the way his hands curled into loose fists at his sides—that he meant it.

You hated how much that comforted you.

You laughed a little, but it came out shaky, brittle. “What, are you gonna beat him up?”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If I have to.”

You stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say. Sukuna had never been the comforting type. His kindness was rare, almost accidental when it happened. But standing here now, seeing the unspoken promise written in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, you realized he wasn’t joking. If that creep so much as breathed in your direction again, Sukuna would burn the world down without a second thought.

And somehow, that thought was steadier than anything else you’d clung to all day.

You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest as you tried to gather yourself. “Thanks,” you muttered, staring down at the floor, embarrassed by how much you actually meant it.

He didn’t press you, didn’t ask for more. Instead, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s nothing. I’d prefer it if my only competition didn’t die on me, though. You’re the only one that challenges me.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a second, you didn’t know what to say.

You cleared your throat, desperate to lighten the thick, almost suffocating tension hanging between you. “Well. Only because you keep stealing all my blue ink.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’re never gonna let that go, huh?”

“Not a chance.”

He smiled—really smiled—and for a moment, the anger and fear from earlier faded into something quieter, something almost easy. You realized, with a strange twist of your stomach, that this was starting to feel normal. Him barging into your life. You pretending you hated it.

Maybe you weren’t pretending as well as you thought.

Sukuna glanced toward the front door, then back at you. “You should get some rest. You look like shit.”

You flipped him off half-heartedly, but he just laughed, ruffling your hair on his way to the door like you were some grumpy cat he had decided to annoy.

As he disappeared into the night, the bell over the door jingling behind him, you finally allowed yourself to exhale.

The shop was silent again, but it wasn’t the same crushing loneliness from earlier. Somehow, it felt less empty.

And as you locked the door, flipped the CLOSED sign with a heavy sigh, and leaned your forehead against the glass, you noticed something.

You didn’t check if he still had the tattoo you did on him.

Fuck !!

————————

taglist : @beabamboo @snapcracklen

[garagepaperback]

writer interview game ~

ty to @citrusses for the tag. god i love myspace bulletins

how many works do you have on ao3? 11

what's your total ao3 word count? 303k

your top 5 stories by kudos?

ready, able

this heaven of mud

palindrome

objection

a barely lit path

do you respond to comments? yes, late, but hopefully the accusations of better than never are true

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? probably coyote. lousy root to tip.

what's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? u know, delusionally, they are all equally happy to me

do you write crossovers? nah

have you ever received hate on a fic? no! looking forward to crumpling under some one day!

do you write smut? aw. yeah ::)

have you ever had a fic stolen? lmao that would be wild

have you ever had a fic translated? same answer as above

have you ever co-written a fic before? no but honestly this sounds dreamy and nice. i would like to do this.

what's your all-time favorite ship? tried and true h/d

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? oh i wandered through my notes app and forgot i wrote two starts to an mcd? thing? where draco lives in a lil shack on the razed grounds of the manor and has an orchard and different? harry's? keep showing up but then also dying, the former of which somehow happens bc draco's trying to see his parents and buried? a journal? anyway no i will absolutely never write this look how many question marks there are. i just wanted to write about draco with peaches, for sure. i have several ideas that are images and you know not ideas lmao

what are your writing strengths? funhouse mirror metaphors. sensory shit

what are your writing weaknesses? dialogue, not breaking up dialogue to wander off on my lil tangents, when a character has to move, things happening, the things that happen doing plot stuff later, not going off on my lil tangents

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? oh i love it! i'm a true fucking luddite so i'd love to bother a native speaker and beg 'em to read through for me, if i ever work that in

what's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? FLINTWOOD

what's your favorite fic you've ever written? javelin ::) i love ::) divorce

tagging: @eleadore @yiiiiiiiikes25 @kamaela @tackytigerfic @sweet-s0rr0w @dryrsheet @jtimu + anyone else who wants in <3

[formulapookie]

I would love some marc/bez and rosquez fic recs if you have time < 3

YEAHHHHHHHH

I love doing thisss

so

marcmarc: I'd definitely check out

@anitalianfrie (on Ao3) it's a oneshot, straight up smut and it's reaaally good, not long but a really good read @yamahussy wrote a three parts fic that got me first into the ship, I loved it a lot, also more psychological smut? idk how to describe it in these terms, it's Marc messing with Bezz's head in a sexual way @yeastinfectionvale and the domestic marcmarc fics they wrote, really cute if you're feeling less like reading smut and more fluff of those two freaks @hotmessmaxpress wrote a fluffy piece about them and also a REALLY GOOD smut which is a threesome between Vale Marc and Bezz @boxboxluckybird and their amazingly cute crow!Bezz fic where EBzz collects and gifts trinkets to the ones he loves, including Marc and Marc...well read it and find out :) fluffy and reallyyyyyyyy cute, a bit angsy because BEzz doesn't believe in himself/is scared of Vale's opinion @vanillow WHAT CAN I SAY EXCEPT PERFECTION MADE FIC AUTHOR her turbulent -> smut, angst, fluff, it has everything you can possibly need or desire, hints to rosquez too, the scars Vale left on Marc and how Bezz tries to heal them somehow and the devil electric (there's a pt.2 too, this one's smut) they are OHHHH SO GOOD she's my personal favourite :) @montemei and their beautiful fic where the academy boys + Vale and Alex find out about Marcmarc is aaaaaaaa amazing it has both fluff and smut, the ending is OH SO GOOD

I would also say my fic but it's on hold for now so if you'd like to check it out be aware it didn't end it's just I've not been in the right mood to continue it

rosquez: oh god it's going to be long 😭

@vanillow ONCE AGAIN SHE'S AMAZING her reconciliation (for now just angst) and amnesia (ANGST AND FLUFF AND EXTERNAL POVS TOO IS AMAZING) AUs are amazingly written, also the cyborg! and the VR46!Marc AUs (still haven't read the last two but I swear I will) @yeastinfectionvale THE GENDERBENT ONE IS MY FAVVVVVV and also love this one fluff right here :) @anitalianfrie and her reconciliation fic that made me smile like a thousand times, it's rosquez reconciliation seen through tumblr eyes @sammyche oooooo not only her asks are amazing and her answers better, she wrote this smutshot here that I personally read like five times already, plus a really good WAG!Marc (seriously check out the asks and her answers you'll get lost into a ton of possibilities) @thesunthemoonthestarstheearth oh god THEIR TALENTTTTTT personal favourite is forever seeking ; forever binding it's angst, DEEP AND CRUEL ANGST but it's worth every tear (you WILL cry) also the fluffy one shot and the smut one :) they wrote other fics and they're all in their bio (I'd want to out them all but it's currently 1.30 am and I've got work tomorrow, but CHECK THEM OUT) @hotmessmaxpress HORROR AU HORROR AU HORROR AU -> angst and fluff, a beautiful introspection into Marc's mind, all of its parts, amazing showstopping spectacular ANDDDD their OnlyFans! AU smut and fluff, really beautiful and the cameo of my flop babies Bezz and Celin @moonshynecybin is a wonder with words, I love her fics, can't find the tags fo rall of them but go check out her blog!! @ray935sworld wrote a cute academy boys de-ageing fic where Vale and MArc are together and act like parents, beautifulll fluff @october3811 also wrote very intersting fics (Iswear I'd tag all of them but I'm tiredddd) @lastlatebraker and all her ficss

once again I surely forgot someone (sorry) I am just tired will cehck tomorrow moring and add those I forgot <33

as before I'd love for you to check out my rosquez fics too, they're all tagged in my pinned post, but no pressure, enjoy those I spoke about above first <333

[smolvenger]

Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter 22 (Loki x Fem Reader Crossover Series, Court of Thorns and Roses AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury and onwards. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: Being invited to a dinner party, you and your companions seize the chance to get the first trove.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: >4K

Warnings: Some spicy flirting, but no actual smut. Not much, some angst. Greif and mentions of bullying. If I miss anything, let me know! Proceed with caution, but I take full responsibility for how I portray dark subject matter and if it is not done tastefully or well. If I miss anything that could be triggering, it is your responsibility to tell me as soon as possible so I can tag it here. Otherwise, enjoy!

A/N: I have had major writer's block since moving into an apartment and starting grad school, but maybe something will come up and I will be blocked from Character AI bc I waste all of my time there now. Anyways, it is not perfect, but I just wanted it done. Ta da!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract@eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@fandxmslxt69@skittslackoffilter@mischief2sarawr @asgards-princess-of-mischief

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

You, Edith, your husband, Stella, and Sif huddled on a cafe table. The building was painted in pastel greens and pinks, with wide windows filtering in sunlight as guests chatted around all of you. But it was not so noisy that one could not focus on the manuscript. Edith sat at the other end, nervously drinking her coffee, her sandwich untouched. The rest of you huddled together tight to read it together, Sif being the one to turn the pages. 

Loki did raise his eyebrow at a few points, Stella’s bulged out. Sif only had no facial reaction.

Edith’s story was about a ghost who haunted a woman in her home. She added details of the dark house and creaking wood. Of the ghost's skeletal fingers, a skull-like face was blank except for a wide mouth, open with sharp teeth. The characters seemed as real as flesh, with little details that only someone who observed others could make. At one point, the woman was asleep when the ghost screamed. The noise rattled the house and would not stop, waking the woman up in fright. It made you shiver. 

The heroine had a past, as did the house, but it was not revealed. As you got to the end of the snippet, you were eager to know the truth, but Sif set the pages down on the table.

“Miss Cushing, that was incredible!” Stella cried, a hand over her heart. Perhaps it was still racing from the terror of the story.

Edith nodded with a smile, a blush coming up on her.

“Oh, thank you!” she replied. She sat up straighter, and her voice brighter.

“I had chills!” you added on.

“It…wasn’t bad at all,” Loki admitted.

“Well, when I was young. I saw something- and heard noises. I believe I encountered a ghost. I never forgot it,” she admitted. “Father never believed me, only a friend did.”

“A ghost?” Sif asked, she folded her arms.

Edith reached over. She carefully put her papers into the folder and wrapped her arms around it like a baby.

“Yes.” was all she said.

“And has this ghost been to you since, Miss Cushing?” Loki asked.

Edith set down the folder.

“No…. I wrote to explore that. I had an idea and it would never leave me. It was like a fever- I had to write it down. Besides, I always loved stories and books…Mama was the only woman I knew who loved them too and then she…she passed.”

She slumped, her eyes growing vacant. Stella reached out and held her hand.

“She would be proud of you now. Creating something and putting it out there, takes great courage,” you consoled.

A small smile flickered on Edith.

“When did she pass?” asked Stella.

“When I was ten,” answered Edith.

“All this while still a child? You poor thing!” replied Stella.

Edith let out a deep sigh.

“I hope you get published. There are women writers out there- you will be one of them in enough time if you keep at it,” you encouraged her.

“Thank you I…” there were tears in her eyes.

“Oh, is something wrong? We didn’t- offend you?” you asked. Digging into your reticule, you pulled out a handkerchief. Edith gripped onto it, twisting it anxiously.

“It’s only…I…I…” began Edith.

She hesitated. Her lips quivering, then she hung her head low and began her confession.

“No, you didn’t offend me at all, it’s only…I…I hated girls my age. When I was little, I was so obsessed with all those things- ghosts, death, books, novels. I struggled to relate to them when I was little because I just wanted to talk about what I was reading. They didn’t even…try to make room for me. I was excluded. I misunderstood their games and their words. I tried so hard, but it was never good enough. And as a child they-they…”

She paused.

“Mrs. McMichael’s daughter Eunice and her friends always bullied me. They brought me along to be their fool, something to kick at. And I…I just felt so alone…I always did…I didn’t like them. They laughed at me. Teased me. Locked me in rooms. Called me names. And even now that we’re grown…they still keep at it. And I always have to spend time with them. Trying to discuss ribbons at least and dealing with their jabs at most. And Mrs. McMichael…she…I’m always so scared I will say something wrong, something bad…and they’ll laugh at me again. I try so hard to be nice to them. To not strike back because it will only make things worse. But…I could never be myself. But even when I barely said anything,  they would always find a way to insult me. To make me less. I didn’t want to go to balls. Go to anything. I didn’t want to go somewhere where I’d be a figure of scorn…and I was…I was always alone…”

“They’re cowards and fools,” Sif spat.

Edith smiled at that, wiping a few small tears with the handkerchief. 

“Yes, they are. But…not since…since now I…I never could speak to anyone other than Michael, much less another woman, and I…I…” she babbled.

She smiled lightly, her tears still in her small eyes. 

“Not until today. When I met all of you,” she completed.

“I guess we can all consider each other friends. And I’m glad to have you as one, Edith” you replied.

Edith then handed the handkerchief back, her face pink.

“Oh goodness, I just cried in public,” she sighed.

“It’s alright, it was rather small,” Stella assured her with a smile.

There was a small pause. Edith had gathered herself. Her appetite returned and she ate her sandwich. Topics went back and forth as the mood lightened. As the bill was paid, she turned to the rest of you.

“Oh- there is a dinner party later this week at my place. Father and I are hosting. It’s going to be a smaller, intimate affair but he said I could invite anyone I wanted…But…could I invite all of you?” she asked.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“I think that-”

Clutching his hand, you cut in, interrupting him with an enthusiastic smile.

“We would love to be invited! Can my husband’s friends come too? In total- that should make eight of us, if you have the seats!” you replied.

Loki looked at you, but you squeezed his fist, signaling him to not speak. 

“Yes, of course!” Edith promised. “Where are all of you staying.”

This time, you turned to Loki. He replied that his friend Mr. Pine found a hotel for all of them and that the RSVPs could be forwarded to the address and hotel rooms. Edith vowed to do so, scribbling the address on paper and saying the invites would arrive shortly. Saying your goodbyes, she then left the cafe with a bounce in her step.

Once the door closed, Loki flipped his face to all of you. 

“What in the seven hels is going to a Midgard banquet going to accomplish?” he asked.

“That banquet is exactly where we need to be,” Sif replied. She made glares here and there to make sure no mortal was watching. Or a possible spy. 

“What?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“Edith has the ring. YN’s powers sensed it,” Stella explained.

“It’s in her house,” you added. “And unless you know how to break into a house tonight and not raise any suspicions with Edith, go ahead and say so.

Loki let out an exhale. His face relaxed.

“Oh…well then… we got lucky. Too lucky. To think me and the variants did all of that foolish searching when our dear, fair ladies walked right into it!” he commented.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The invitations arrived on notes the color of snow. The days seemed long and slow before the evening of the fateful dinner party arrived. Five of you, it was noted, all had similar faces and voices, the variants all agreed to tell others that they were distant relations in case someone asked questions. The men donned evening tuxedos. You were in a rich, dark green gown, Stella her sky blue, and Sif one of wine red.

“I should go. I want to be in the search. And I don’t want to be stuck where it’s dull,” Sif insisted.

“I’ll go with you, you need my powers to find the ring. And if Grendel were to strike, he wouldn’t do it in the middle of a crowded party,” you nodded.

It was then decided. You and Sif would look, while the rest distracted the hosts and partygoers.

Your cabs pulled up to the house. As servants took your coats and escorted you inside, you noted the light wood, the grandfather clock and mirrors, and the elaborate glass windows. Warm, light, and sweet.

“One would think this is like a fairy house.,” Thomas commented, looking about.

There were footsteps and distant chatter of a few guests. Then in came Edith, dressed in a cream dress with ruffles at the long neck and sleeves.

“Oh! Our party! Hello- welcome!” she greeted.

All of you exchanged greetings and names, ever polite and gracious to the strangers in your party. She smiled at you and the ones she met, and then she shook hands with Hal, Jonathan, Robert…

She paused with Thomas, locking eyes with her. She partially froze. Her smile dropped. Then she found herself again, her eyes flicking down and then back up.

“And you, sir?” she asked.

“Sir Thomas Sharpe, esquire. And Miss Cushing- and I hear you are a talented writer, too, I presume?” he asked. He smiled back. But it was different than the merely happy-to-be-here-please-don’t-suspect-a-thing manners of the others. His eyes shined on her. 

“Yes..yes, I am,” she admitted shyly. Though you could see her cheeks were pink.

“And of ghost stories, I heard?” he added.

“Oh- yes, that is my specialty,” she answered. She beamed at him like there was no one else in the party.

“Well then, I have a particular fondness for them. You must promise to let me read it, and if not- then tell me every last little detail about it,” he said.

She nodded and said she would. Then the door opened with a couple that just came in and she excused herself to greet them, but not before looking at Thomas one last time.

“Ah, the large party,” said a baritone voice.

There entered an older man, tall and broad with an impressive, grey beard. He smiled at each of you. But he turned to you, Sif, and Stella first.

“And you three are the ones who defended my daughter against the notorious Mrs. McMichael, yes?” he asked.

“Yes, we were the ones present,” you answered.

“Well then, I will always offer my warmest gratitude. Mrs. McMichael is fond of kicking the hornet's nest, we shall say,” he replied. 

He reached out his hand and you shook it, his skin calloused. “I am Mr. Cushing.”

Edith led you down the short hall to the dining room. There were lit candles everywhere, making the scene lush and romantic. The table was set with a white cloth and vases of flowers and candelabras. The place was decorated with tall china cabinets, a stone fireplace, and a wall with tall windows. Appetizers were served on porcelain.  Water was served in one glass and wine in another. 

You waited through the courses. Engaging in topics as they came and went. The men seemed to all be doing fine. Though there were a few odd questions about the “business trip” and how they were related, Loki came up with lies on the spot to satisfy them. Sif held her posture uptight and helped herself to the main course, eating heartily and quickly. Stella cut up her chicken into small bits and always smiled.  Edith and Thomas exchanged several glances and smiles, even when others were talking.

“Why, this is such a beautiful place, Miss Cushing! And what an elegant cake!” Stella praised as dessert arrived.

“Oh, thank you. The cook has never failed us once. Wait until you try a bite!” Edith said.

Taking in a deep breath, you calmed yourself. You made your jaw unclench and relaxed your shoulders. Focusing on the blank white of the tablecloth, you reached out your senses.

Ignoring the sounds of eating and sipping, the whispering of servants, you focused on the ring. Something was pulling you above the stairs. Edith’s bedroom was down that hall. It poked at you like an insistent child.

But where exactly was-

“And Mrs Laufeyson, how did you meet your husband?” asked Mr. Cushing.

Snapping back to the present, you looked up and smiled.

“Oh…I was dreadfully ill. And he heard of me and offered his help to make sure I had medical care. He saved my life…”

You turned to Loki.

“And not just my body, far more than that” she replied.

Loki sat up, his jaw a little loose. Then he smiled.

“Oh, how romantic!’ cried one guest.

Taking a bite of cake, you found it was layered, delicate, and sweet. 

Slices were eaten and servants cleared plates. Some ladies went to one parlor and the men were trickling to another, but there were exceptions. Edith and Thomas were by the fire, talking and chatting- you even saw Edith laugh lightly. It was Jonathan who walked up to the host himself, Mr. Cushing, and was asking him about his business. Loki was beside him, in case any gaps needed filling. The rest of the men had the other variants, content to drink brandy and smoke, and seem innocent. Stella was listening intently to old ladies gossip, as they led her to the drawing room.

Loki then went up to you.

“Ah, and is it time?” he asked.

“Yes, it is,” you answered him quietly.

You shared a look at Sif. She nodded her head. 

Both of you walked over to a far corner.

Loki raised his hand and two duplicates of you both appeared. Your husband smirked.

“Ah, now two of my lovely wife? Our nights could become a lot more interesting…” he whispered.

“Oh, stop it!” you teased.

He raised an eyebrow.

“But would you like a duplicate of me? Hm? To have two of your trickster god worshiping you at once? Pleasuring you until you couldn’t remember your name?” he whispered.

Feeling your toes curl in your shoes, you lightly swatted his arm.

“If my husband could control his lust for one hour, we have a ring to find,” you reminded him.

He gave you a wink, and then walked away with the duplicates to join the other men.

Making sure your steps were light, you both picked up your skirts and scurried up the steps. The servants were too busy with the party to take note. But you couldn’t waste time before one of them saw something.

You quickened to Edith’s room at the end of the hall. Reaching out your hand, you made sure it unlocked and got inside.

Turning around, you made sure the door was quietly closed and locked.

It was dark from the night, and full of books and childhood toys. Both of you eyed around.

“Use your gifts, find where it is!” Sif insisted.

Taking in another breath, you readied yourself. Ready to reach out your gifts and-

The door creaked open.

Both of you turned around.

The door opened by itself. The door handle still clicking up and down. It was a warm night and warm from the many people. But the room itself had turned cold. Uncomfortably cold.

“What-what is that?” you asked. Feeling the color drain from your face.

“The windows are closed- there is no wind” observed Sif. 

A figure emerged at the end of the hall, hidden by the shadows.

A servant? No-this wasn’t a servant. It was a tall figure, dressed in black with a long, black veil as if in mourning. But there were no widows in the party guests, much less one dressed like that.

The woman moved over.

No- she didn’t move…

She glided over.

In a heartbeat, there was a gust of cold wind and she flew over. Her veiled face, you realized, was nothing more than a pitch-black skull. Hollow eye sockets. Black pitch dripped over her skeletal features.

She let out a scream before either of you could.

The specter flew over and grabbed you both by each arm. Reaching out, you saw her hands were only bones. Her touch was so cold, it numbed your skin. She shook both of you.

“THIEVES! THEIVES! THEIVES!” she screeched. 

She threw both of you. You and Sif hit a wall and then fell onto the floor. You let out a sound despite yourself, catching yourself onto the rug below.

Sif reached her hand and put it over your mouth. 

“If you scream, the servants and guests will come up,” she argued.

You had to bite your tongue. The lights in the room flickered on and off rapidly. The temperature was freezing in that room, and the specter pointed a bony finger toward you.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? STAY AWAY FROM HER! BURGLARS! THEIVES!” the spectre hissed.

You removed Sif’s hand, though kneeling, you were shaking. Books toppled from a bookshelf and papers on a desk flew about.

“Who are you? Are allied with Grendel?” you asked in a quiet voice.

The Spectre did not react. She only kept screeching.

“DO NOT LAY A HAND ON HER! BURGLAR!”

Sif unsheathed her sword.

“Grendel, no doubt. Something of his,” she muttered.

Sif ran forward, and with a grunt, she stabbed the woman through the stomach.

But there was no blood. And the specter did not budge. She did not seem the least bit hurt in any way.

She let out another scream- an ugly sound, like a broken sob, one that almost tore you.

Sif’s jaw hung open in surprise. The specter grabbed Sif by the throat.

“DO-NOT-TOUCH-HER!” it warned.

Sif struggled and tried to loosen, but the specter held on tight.

The memories of Edith at the cafe went back to you. It made sense- Edith saw a ghost when she was very young…she must have seen it here…it must have been right after…after she lost…

Everything made sense.

With shaky legs, you got back up and stated.

“I know who you are…you’re Mrs. Cushing- you’re Edith’s mother!” you declared.

The ghost paused, turning her skeletal face to you. The wind in the room vanished.

“We are not here to hurt your daughter- and that is my friend. We are here to help her, please let her go,” you asked.

The ghost released her skeletal hand. Sif fell to the floor, coughing and gasping in the air. You rushed forward and helped her.

“There is a ring Edith has…and it’s one of Grendel’s. It looks like this…” you began. From your pocket, you got out the copy.

The ghost looked at it.

“Do you know who Grendel is? His mortality is stuck in a few items. Including a ring like this. If he remains in power…he could hurt Edith. If we find the ring and destroy it, then he’ll be destroyed…Please…you only want to protect her. That’s why you were always watching over her, all that time she thought she was alone…and she was not. Could you help us?”

The ghost looked at you. It exhaled, the shadows around it flittering.

She took her finger and pointed to a chest. A drawer opened. And out floated a locked box. It unlocked and then floated over to your hands.

Looking inside were a few jewelry items…including that very ring.

You looked up at her.

“Thank you,” you said.

Sif plucked out the ring. You replaced it with the duplicate ring, setting in within the few earrings and trinkets.

The small box floated up, locked, and then was put in the drawer, where it shut.

The ghost let out another sound, like an exhale and a moan. The papers shuddered again and the grandfather in the clock rang the hour.

Then the shadows vanished, as did the ghost. Warmth returned to the room again, as did the light.

You cupped your mouth again, catching your breath.

“Oh…oh gods…” you whispered.

Sif pocketed the ring. Without saying a word, she looked at you and grabbed your hand.

“Hurry, princess,” she urged.

Both of you shuffled at once out of the room. Downstairs, the party remained as normal. It was as if no one heard any screams or rattling coming from upstairs.

Steps light, desperate to escape the scene, both you and Sif hurried out of the room. Your feet light. So there wasn’t a rumble as you went across the hall. Down the stairs. Squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate, you signaled Loki.

“We have it! Send the duplicates!”

Sure enough, your duplicates turned a corner of a wall outside of the parlor. You both walked over. They vanished like mist. 

You took their places and walked in. Sipping coffee with the other ladies making idle chatter. Stella glanced at you both. You gave her a smile and a nod and her shoulders relaxed.

Drinking your tepid coffee, you let out an exhale as if to wash away everything that happened.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You both staid for two more days to avoid suspicion.  But on the last day, Edith hurried to your hotel. She embraced you and Stella warmly, (though Sif seemed a little stiff as she did). The other gentlemen nodded.

“May I…may I write, please? I would like to hear from you…all of you,” Edith said,her eyes glancing to Thomas and then back. You felt bad for her, the poor girl would be at the mercy of the McMichaels again. 

“We will. We’ll visit too if we can,” you promised her. 

Thomas then stepped forward, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“May I have the pleasure of writing to you as well, Miss Cushing?” he asked.

She jumped at first. Her jaw lowered briefly, and then she smiled.

“Why- Yes, please,” she answered.

He took her hand and kissed it. You could feel the fluttering from Edith herself. Hal cocked an eyebrow, but Robert rolled his eyes.

Once she left, Jonathan made sure your keys were all returned. Loki took a hand and flicked open a portal.

One down, three more to go you silently counted out. But perhaps more than just ghosts awaited the next one. Things even worse…

[sauron-kraut]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for tagging me, @nihil-ism 🖤

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 15.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

9,329 - you see, my works posted so far are either shorter one shots or ficlets/drabbles.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Silmarillion and adjacent works by Tolkien. :) And within this fandom it's almost exclusively about rather niche ships with Mairon. Let's see when/if I will write for other fandoms; I'd love to at some point.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Of Gods And Monsters

Sacrificial

Plaything

Sugar

Sacred

All of these are Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn. lmao

5. Do you respond to comments?

I will respond to every single (first) comment someone leaves on a fic of mine. I thorougly enjoy these little interactions and I want to show my appreciation to people who show me theirs.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That must be my double drabble Plaything I guess. At least if we talk about the very moment ending the fic. Throwing up from negative emotions and alcohol alike seems pretty... angsty.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That must be Of Being Born and Little Deaths. Everyone (well...) is having a good time and it literally ends with an orgasm.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far I haven't and I'm very grateful for that.

9. Do you write smut?

I love writing smut. And I love weaving character analyses/studies and some poetry into it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I don't, personally not a fan of crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, but sharing headcanons and ideas with others has endlessly inspired many of my fics.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Angbang (Melkor/Mairon). I love them, I will never be over them; they've been with me for ten years now, I could ramble on forever about how important this ship is to me and what it means to me. It's rather popular in fandom though and I feel like there's many great writers out there who have graced us with their brilliant work. That makes me feel like I don't necessarily need to... add to that somehow. I'd love to write (more) Angbang at some point but as far as writing goes my favorite ship is Mairon/Ar-Pharazôn (which many of you might have guessed at this point lol). It's rotten, it's biblical, it's a playground for all things terrible to me. And it's a rarepair (why??) and therefore (in my mind) lies like a bare field before me, ready to sow and play in. 🖤

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

No such thing. My WIP are my children and I will not abandon them. It might take many months but they will see the light of day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Building atmosphere, pretty lines, poetry, in some parts characterization. (Very) short formats are my strength in general.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Not really able to write anything plot-driven, sometimes dialogue (though I might have started to improve a little), prioritizing pretty imagery and rhythm/sound over meaning/sense sometimes, having difficulties writing longer stuff.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Not really my thing; could get awkard quickly imo.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Visual Kei bands (Moi dix Mois) when I was 14.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? 

Easily my little double drabble Reverence. It illustrates nicely what I talked about regarding my writing strengths for question 17 imo.

Tagging @lvsifer, @curufiin, @cilil, @saintstars, @gardensofthemoon, @elevenelvenswords , @crackinthecup , @swanhild , @a-world-of-whimsy-5 and @i-did-not-mean-to (no pressure ofc and sorry if I forgot anyone, in that case: that's just my forgetful brain at work)

[sweetorangepoptart]

Year-End Writer's Roundup: 2024 edition

Thank you @pikapeppa for tagging me!!!

It’s that time of year, writer friends: time to take stock of what we’ve been up to this year! Tagging to literally ANY AND ALL WRITERS who would like to participate — seriously, if you write and you see this, please take this as an invitation to fill it out!

@starshinemaiden @kingbadgermole @deerstalkerdeathfrisbee @creampuffqueen @korrasamibottles @ozais-lobotomist @appalesbian @gaybd1 @kjthenbee @lokfeedsthegays @mellyoraa I know I forgot some of you just do this if you've written anything this year!!!

Words written (published or not, WIPs totally count too!!):

I'm not even going to try to count my WIP so we'll just go by AO3 wordcount which is... 335,514. Not too shabby.

Smut scenes:

Looks like 9! Two pwp oneshots and the rest in my longfics.

New things I tried:

Korrasami in Love, Asami!! I was really nervous about that one. I've been kind of questioning my gender for a while, and writing from the perspective of men felt really good. So shifting back into a woman's voice, especially one as nuanced and complex as Asami, was kind of jarring. But I'm glad I did. She was so interesting to write.

I also tried out a darker AU in You'll Be the Death of Me. I really love this one.

Mystery/political intrigue adjacent stuff in Security, too.

Original characters 😭 I've been so worried about my original characters and how they'll be received. But it's been fun to play with them! And the response has been positive.

Fic I spent the most time on:

Probably Windswept. The word count plus the amount of time I spent rewatching season 3 and researching various topics, it's definitely taken a lot of my time.

Fic I spent the least time on:

Probably my pwp Relax. That one came really easily (no pun intended) and I think it's my second lowest word count

Favorite thing I wrote: 

A Friend of the Avatar! Korra's perspective was fun and all the details I include were so fun to write: Mako telling Korra about Wu's allergy, Korra telling Mako to put Wu's letters on the fridge, Wu very smoothly being like "yes I like girls very much" when he was trying to cover his ass after all the brainwashing business was over and Korra was apologizing to him for leaving without him, Asami dissecting Wu's letter for a threesome proposition... Ahhhh I just had so much fun with that one!!! I even had fun coming up with the title (A friend of the Avatar=a friend of Dorothy. See what I did there???)

Favorite thing I read:

I don't want to play favorites because I read A LOT of good stuff, especially from @starshinemaiden @deerstalkerdeathfrisbee and @korrasamibottles submissions for Wuko week. So instead of playing favorites here, I'm going to go off to a different fandom.

Surface Tension , a Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time fic. Pairing: Princess RutoXSheik/Zelda. OH MY GOD. I replayed OoT this year and I had an EPIPHANY that Ruto was in love with Sheik after he saved her life, and that Sheik returned them considering how he spoke about her to Link. I held my breath and searched for the Ruto/Sheik tag on Ao3... TEN WORKS. 10. ONE-ZERO. I was like about to cry wanting to read a good Ruto/Sheik fic... I scrolled through the 10 works and Surface Tension caught my eye for the 14k word count alone. I was HOOKED from the beginning. I was on the edge of my seat. The author did AMAZING and captured their voices and characterizations perfectly, and it was beautiful and funny and romantic and suspenseful and it had action and it was SOOOO well written. And it was written 14 years ago. Did I leave a comment? You bet I did. it was a loooooong comment too. And the author replied and said it made their week 🧡 the moral of this story is read old fics and comment on them.

Writing goals for next year: 

I need to finish my three in progress long fics. I feel very confident that I'll do it because of how good I felt finishing Secret, but I do admit juggling all 3 of them kinda sucks, just because I want them all to be finished already and I hate that each one goes like 2 months between updates. But I'll do it and if you can all stick with me and keep commenting it will make it way easier!!!

I, unfortunately, also have an idea for another longfic that was inspired by an ask about the fire nation princess... Something something Mako becomes her bodyguard, something something Wu pining as he watches them grow close and presumably fall in love the way Wu wishes it could have happened with him... I think I'll sprinkle in lots of misunderstandings and see what happens lol. I've started outlining it but I'm going to wait until my other three longfics are done before I get started with it so I can focus.

I also really want to write a Wuko fic from Bolin's perspective. I love Bolin and his voice so I really want to get in his head and see what I can do with his reactions and thoughts to his brother dating the Earth King.

And... To those of you who are only acquainted with my Wuko work, this might sound out of pocket, but I reeeeeeally want to write some hardcore BDSM too. I don't know how I'll do that because I'm endlessly obsessed with writing Wuko and in my head, Mako and Wu would never be into it (I can't even picture them doing a little light spanking 🤣). So I'll need to write a completely different pairing possibly a different fandom if I want to do that. But BDSM is probably my favorite flavor of smut to read and I used to have a lot of fun writing it. I've grown a lot as a writer so I'd love to take a crack at it and see what I can come up with.

Also WukoWeek is around the corner and I definitely need to write for that.

[notalotgoingonatthisinstant]

Writing tag game

Back from the dead to find this @silvagrey tag, so let's do it!

How many works do you have on AO3?

54. I do have a few over at ff.net that I never transferred over, though.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

420,495 (what).

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I've got a few Young Royals in progress, and PJO is always in my drafts. I've also got a Dead Boy Detectives one in the drafts as well. There's a JATP one that I need to finish the last chapter of, I'm fully aware. And I've written for Glee, Stranger Things, and HP, but nothing new for many years.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Like a New Yorker (3,737), Bigger 'n Texas (2,583), Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart (2,362), Half a God (1,943), and Less of a Coward (1,258).

Do you respond to comments?

I used to be so good at responding 🥲🥲 Now I'm lacking. I do read all of them, more than once, and cherish them so much.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Of Hearts Breaking and Thunderstorms, because it's a straight-up breakup fic. The other angsty ones have a slightly more hopeful ending.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, I've written getting-togethers, proposals, weddings, births of children... Most of my fics are happy, even if not 100% all the time, but I like me a good time.

Do you get hate on fics?

I remember one time I got a comment along the lines of "this character would absolutely not do this and it wouldn't go like this", and I thought, okay, just don't read it???, and they deleted it shortly after. So.

Do you write smut?

I do. It's something I've developed as a skill. The first time was soooo awkward and tricky, because I kind of didn't want to read the words I'd just written. But, as I got older, read more, and lived, it got more natural. I still vehemently refuse to use overtly crude language, because I honestly can't read much of it when it's like that.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't think I've ever written one. I rarely read them, because it's hard for them to pique my interest, much less to write one. But you never know. The right combination could come along.

(Side note: back at school, we did a video project where we mashed up one episode of Glee and one of Supernatural - Gleenatural, if you will - and it was a true masterpiece. I played a possessed Sunshine Corazon and sang Telephone in a public bathroom.)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Well, my fics were part of the AO3 scraping. I've been off here, but I knew the times it happened.

On the other hand, I have taken inspiration in a fic before and planned to shout out the author in my notes, but I ended up publishing the fic during an online class and completely forgot about the shout-out, so it was pretty devastating for that author to see it. They reached out, we talked it out, I apologised till my next generation, updated the fic, it's all good. But yeah, I don't post fics during online classes anymore.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have translated fics. When I first started writing fics, I didn't have the confidence to write in English at the ripe old age of eleven/twelve, so I would write in Portuguese and then translate it from myself - just double the work, really. And I've also translated a Glee fic for a special project (Season Six Glee Fixmas, maybe? I can't find it now, it wasn't on AO3).

I think I recall someone once asking me if they could translate one of my fics, but I can't remember which one and into what language.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

For the aforementioned Glee project, but I don't work really well with other people when it comes to this. I've also tried to co-write a book with my then friends when I was 12-15. Didn't work out well in the end. I'm too controlling and my brain wants to snap when someone tries to give me advice on my writing, even now as a grown-up, so no betas either.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

See, I feel like if I say it, I'll jinx it. I haven't finished this JATP one from 2021, The Great Hope for a Dynasty, and the infamous Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart sequel.

What are your writing strengths?

My particular brand of autism makes it so that I need things to make logical sense. It drives a lot of ideas forward, with me wanting to fill in the gaps or wonder the what-ifs. It tends to lead to an extremely researched fic that has to be plausible, even if just in-universe, but it has to obey those laws. Pretty much all of my fics nowadays receive that sort of praise, which makes me the happiest!

What are your writing weaknesses?

Stems from the same characteristics, such as a fatal flaw. Since everything needs to make sense, many works get tangled up and unfinished because I'm not satisfied. I'm much harder on my own writing nowadays than I was before.

Also, I can't be much bothered with world-building. That's what attracts me to fanfiction - the world is already there, I just have to play with it. I don't write many AUs that are too far from the source material.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I love it! I personally only speak two languages fluently, but I know bits and pieces from others, enough to find trustworthy translations when needed. I don't think I'll meddle with a language I'm completely unfamiliar with. Also, it has to make sense within the fic, and there either has to be the translation somewhere or the context clues are enough, so nobody has to be bothered with translating it on their own.

First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Percy Jackson, on DeviantArt. I believe my HP work came afterwards.

Favourite fic you’ve written?

Well, I'm proud of all the ones I've posted, otherwise they wouldn't see the light of y'all's screens. If I had to choose, maybe from each fandom:

Bigger 'n Texas, because it turned out exactly the way I had pictured the idea in my head.

Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart, because it was the most medical I ever got to be on a fic, and the slowness of the realism killed me, but it paid off.

Down at the Pier, my JATP masterpiece.

I think it's sweet that my favourites seem to be people's favourites as well. I'm also incredibly fond of the DBD one I've got in my drafts. Hope to finish it and let the world enjoy it as well.

[seigephoenix]

20 Questions for Fanfic Writers

Tagged by the lovely @vorchagirl. Thanks for the tag lovely! This was fun even if that last question got me emotional!! XD

1). How many works do you have on AO3?

From my 2 accounts: SeigePhoenix has: 99 HeroAssociation has: 34

2). What’s your total AO3 word count?

SeigePhoenix is around 750k, so almost a million HeroAssociation is around 415k

Together? Over 1 million words written since 2015.

3). What are your top five fics by kudos?

SeigePhoenix:

The Serpent – 345 (Mass Effect Andromeda retelling of if the Ryder twin wasn’t in a coma but instead a mercenary on Kadara) Every Little Thing - 257 (Inquisitor Cadash x Varric Tethras I wrote for BE) Warm Me Up – 197 kudos (Evfra x Female Ryder that I wrote for a friend as a gift)

HeroAssociation:

Boku no Hero Kinktober – 1704 (from way back in the day when I wrote for MHA) Kinktober 2020 – 1564 kudos (I do believe this is self-explanatory) Color Blind – 1302 kudos (Hawks x Female Reader, soulmate AU)

4). What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for video game fandoms.  I used to write reader fics for anime fandoms but oh my gods the hate and toxicity was unreal.  So I don’t touch those anymore unless it’s privately written for friends.

I write for Dragon Age (Origins, 2, Inquisition, and Veilguard), Mass Effect (the OT and Andromeda), Cyberpunk 2077, Baldur’s Gate 3, Skyrim (though that’s mostly just my Dragonborn and Farkas), Stardew Valley, and Avowed.

If we’re mutuals and you like anime, I can be inclined to write anime as well.  So long as I know enough about it.  I’m definitely not closed off from writing it, but I will be sending it via Google Docs or similar programs instead of publishing it.

5). Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to!  But sometimes my brain likes to switch gears and I totally forget.  Then by the time I remember it’s been a month and I’m dying of mortification that I forgot.  The whole dog meme of “SQUIRREL” that’s me.

6). What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That one is easy.

Fool Me Once.  Absolutely does not have a happy ending.  Ryder and Reyes do not ride off into the sunset together.  Celeste Ryder turns her back on Kadara after being tortured.  I always wanted to write a sequel, but I lost a lot of love of writing around that time due to burn out.  I never got around to writing again until much later. If you check this one out, heed any and all tags associated with the chapters.

Darkside is still up in the air if it will be happy or angsty at the end.  We’ll see where Cara and Illario take me. Heed any tags and warnings about this. Their relationship is definitely not healthy.

7). What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The fics I wrote for others for exchanges.

Every Little Thing – Varric chooses the Inquisitor Cadash Color Blind I suppose the Rent A Dom and Waiting on a Hero fics from my other account are happy endings as well.

8). Do you get hate on fics?

Back when I wrote for anime I did.  And most recently I got comments on The Frog Queen (my female Cousland x Nathaniel Howe long fic).  It was more weird than hate?  Because they devoted the energy to leave a nasty comment rather than doing something productive with their lives.  *shrugs*

If I’m in the mood, I’ll troll haters.  My best work is just linking to a Rick Roll.  Most of my mutuals know to not trust any links I post under “hate” comments because I’m intentionally being cheeky.

The hate used to get to me.  It doesn’t anymore.  Now I’m just like: you have that much extra energy/motivation to leave a hate comment?  Get a hobby.  Leave my old ass alone to molder in peace.

9). Do you write smut?

*waves hand at my entire blog* And the anime one too.  On that one I wrote so much darker smut than here.  All tagged appropriately.  I do write darker stuff and monster fucking too.  I have 0 shame in it.

I write smut for f/m and f/f ships.  I don’t write m/m because I’m still a little leery after being called names back in the day.  As I’m a cisgender woman writing m/m ships, I was called fetishizing and so I tend to take a step back.  If someone requests it I will write it, but that’s about it.  I won’t write it on my own.

10). Do you write crossovers?

Not too many.  I have written AUs before, but not really any crossovers.  The only one I can think of was for a Black Emporium fic years ago.  It was a Skyrim x Dragon Age crossover.

11). Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes.  A 14 year old took my Kinktober pieces from MHA and posted them on Wattpad.  It was a headache and a half getting that taken down.  I went through such a blocking spree on that blog after that.  A lot of my stuff doesn’t get stolen which I’m thankful for.  XD

12). Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.  No one’s ever asked me anyway.

13). Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I have not cowritten a completed fic but I do write back and forth stories featuring my and friend’s OCs.  The only fic I’ve been tagged in as a cowriter is more a collection than anything else.  Letters from the War.

14). What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I don’t pick favorites.  XD That’s rude.  I just have current fixations on ships.  Right now those are: Elfie x Gale from BG3 Ashia x Halsin from BG3 Senna Thorn x Davrin from Veilguard Cara Valisti x Illario Dellamorte from Veilguard Veronique “V” x Jackie from Cyberpunk 2077

15). What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

New to the Neighborhood.  It’s a Shepard x Kaidan modern AU where Kaidan moves into the neighborhood with a kid and Shepard happens to be his neighbor.  Typically romance novel stuff, but I just wrote myself into a corner and can’t figure a way out of it.

16). What are your writing strengths?

Smut.  Just kidding.  I like to think characterization is a strength of mine but not sure.  I do know that I love writing dialogue and banter.

17). What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything.  I have a lot of weaknesses but I do this for funsies, so I’m not looking to really overcome it too much.  I do keep in mind certain things I’m not good at writing.  Show not tell is a big one for me.  XD

18). Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I mean I have.  If I have a mutual or a friend that speaks that language I’ll go and ask them if I’m doing it right.  Otherwise I do research about the language before I use it.

19). First fandom you wrote for?

InuYasha when I was sixteen.  It’s the first one I really remember writing down because most of the time it was acted out when I was a kid.  I didn’t really write as a kid because nothing was sacred in my house.  -.-

20). Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh jeez.  That one’s easy.

The Serpent

It’s by far my favorite and the first long fic I ever wrote.  It took years to finish it.  I still love it and the characters.  Cerise Ryder is my ride or die gal and will remain so.  She got her happy ending in The Bloody Crown.  It wasn’t all roses and sunshine, everything settled happily.  Her ending was more about acceptance and healing than anything else.  I cried when I finished the sequel.  It’s my good-bye to her.  But that fic will always remain my favorite I ever wrote.

[wesslan]

20 questions for writers

thank you @adelfie for the tag<3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

18! (and one hidden). i did not think it was that many??? thought it was 10 tops, lol

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

272,860

3. What fandoms do you write for?

batman, used to write some dsmp, but now im kinda eeh about it. i also (for some godforsaken reason) have a harry potter WIP thats been sitting in my docs for like two years that i kinda wanna finish, kinda not (jk r*wling suck my dick challenge)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

cards on the table

when in gotham: don’t drink the water

robin radio

o bury me not on the lone prairie

and their dreams they dreamed awake

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try!!!! the number overwhelms me sometimes, but i try to answer when i have the energy! :,)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh god, i mean… i pretty much only write happy/hopeful endings🤠 mayyyybe ‘you have (1) new message’? its not all the way angsty but it’s kind of?? angsty??

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

gee whizz buddy see above and take your pick, really

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i have gotten one (1) hate comment and i treasured it dearly until the person that posted it deleted it😭 other than that, nawt really. some people give unsolicited advice/critique, but thats about it

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nope. not really my thing

10. Do you write crossovers?

again, not really my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of! sure hope it stays that way

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yesss!!! so cool! they asked permission, and now my fic exists in a whole other language!!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, and i think i’d be really awful at it. i cant say no to stuff, i cant keep deadlines, and i dont enjoy people being in the kitchen when i cook, so to speak

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

BAYBEY!! you KNOW i was a klance shipper first and a human second when i was like? 14? now tho? i’m shipping myself with sixteen hours of sleep and financial freedom. but also, deep in my heart,,,, charlie and carlisle from twilight. you could have been so beautiful.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

man at this point, who knows what i’ll finish. maybe instant repeater ‘99. i LOVE the concept and the world building. but also i kinda left the fandom,,,

16. What are your writing strengths?

people (including my interactive storytelling teacher) have told me im good at writing distinct characters/realistic dialogue! so i guess that! :,D

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

CONSISTENCY. finishing things. ending up hating what i’ve written like 3 months after it’s done.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

well,,, that’s what i always do. english is another language to me! cop out answer, lmao. but other than that, i guess i could be persuaded to write a few lines in spanish here and there. did study it for 7 years, after all.

overall, i thinks it pretty cool! as long as there is an ez translation somewhere, easy to understand without a translation, or if it’s not done in a way that bi/multilinguals absolutely would not speak B)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

oh god. percy jackson. it’s still out there somewhere. i forgot my username and password so i’ll prolly never find it (thank god) but yeah. it was solangelo bc i was closeted and emo.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

probably ‘mothman is real and he wants to kill me’. i had a lot of fun with it! i also really like ‘*cocks gun* manor’s haunted’ just because i based it off of the haunting of hill house which is like, one of the best books ever.

that was fun!!! thanks again for the tag! <3 i’m tagging whoever wants to do this, and also (no pressure) @quotidian-oblivion

puss å kram, skumbanan!!❤️

[spliqi]

fanfic writer interview!

forgot to do this whoops. thank you for the tag @aurorahrt <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

19! all bsd because i'm ill about this series

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

the cat isn't byakko (and other lies akutagawa can tell himself) - sskk, teen and up, 23.6k words the first fic i ever wrote!!! which took off way more than i expected lol. animal transformation trope crackfic shenanigans. silly and funny and i still like it very much

wishful thinking - sskk, teen and up, 6.7k words love to see this up here i adore soulmate aus. the concept of sharing thoughts with a guy who can't stand you... yeah. also atsushi is delightfully dense here. misunderstandings <3

hidden in plain sight - sskk, teen and up, 4.0k words what if we kissed but we were dumb stupid rivals on an undercover mission. and also we can't dance for shit (aka my patient zero of mission fics. now i can't stop making them)

i hate you in charcoal (but love you in watercolor) - sskk, teen and up, 4.8k words artist akutagawa!!! yeah!!! not really an au? more of a headcanon-centric fic that spiralled. i just think he deserves to make art and be weird about it

reading between the lines - sskk, teen and up, 12.1k words fic embodiment of "put those guys in a situation" hahahaha. poe's ability shenanigans. 80% of this is them bickering but hey that's what i love

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try my best to! i'm very busy and can't always find the time but i read every single one and they mean the world to me!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

gallantry ougfghh. chapter 119 hurt my feelings

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

the vast majority of them are super sappy endings i'm not strong enough for anything else i fear

Do you write crossovers?

i haven't so far! but if the brainrot hits me then who knows

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not really??? let's hope it stays that way

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i haven't. but again, if the brainrot hits me--

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge. maybe ignorance is bliss

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no (<- guy who's scared of everyone)

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

i don't think it's hard to guess LMAOOO. sskk my beloved

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

to be honest if i really want to finish something i always do. but i have ditched a 30k wip before after getting bored of the story 💀

What are your writing strengths?

i've been told i'm good at humor, which is nice to know because i just keep in the final draft whatever makes me laugh while writing 😭 also i believe i have a pretty good grasp of my favs at this point so i don't stress too much about characterization anymore

What are your writing weaknesses?

overediting oh my GOD. free me. i edit like someone will kill me if i make a mistake and it drags my overall productivity down so much

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i think it's hard to pull off well. i wouldn't try it myself unless it's a language i'm fairly confident in

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

not ship per se but there's a lot of gen fics that i really really want to write. atsushi & dazai, atsushi & kyouka, higuchi & aku, there's also a gin & verlaine idea in my head that i've been hung up on for soooo long. hopefully 2025 will be my year

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

this is definitely recency bias talking but i really liked the montcott fic i wrote for rarepair week. it's short but it came to me so easily and i just love them sm

tagging: most of my writer mutuals have done this already but if you haven't consider this a tag from me <3