#i tweaked it just a bit hope you don't mind :)

[obsesssedblerd]

Hello hello thank you for making so many jjk Smau. I love all of your work and I think they are just chef kiss. I hope you are having a great day today.

Here is my request for a jjk smau- asking them for many hickeys 🥹. Do turn this down if it doesn’t feel appropriate. Have a great morning/afternoon/evening ahead and keep slaying ehehehe

Smau: "Leave a few more." ☺️💋🔞

- asking the jjk men to leave more hickeys/ marks on you

(nanami, toji, choso, shiu, sukuna, gojo, and geto)

contains: hella suggestiveness/ smut [MDNI]

a/n: hope you don't mind that i tweaked it a bit, anon 💕

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[radioisntdead]

Good evening folks! I'm dropping this lil headcanon thingy that's been on my brain, that very much leans into the fanon territory!

Trigger warnings just in case!: Mentions of mild cannibalism because it's Alastor, and biting

I'm still figuring out how to properly write Alastor so this may be OOC! This was not proofread so please don't mind any grammar mistakes! Enjoy reading!

Alastor just causally bites, Mainly your arms and shoulders, not in a sexual way he just... Bites

Your shoulder is exposed? How scandalous! Your getting bit, he's holding your wrist for whatever reason? CHOMP, You wear something that exposes your forearms? You guessed it! It's biting time!

Broski's teeth are SHARP, don't be surprised if you end up bleeding a bit and bro just takes that as like juice, a liquid snack,

A sauce if you will,

Of course the biting typically takes place in private or when the others aren't looking, because basic decency, just because you're in eternal damnation doesn't mean you should lack proper manners! Especially if you're romantically involved!

Also his eyes do the tweaking out thing whenever he bites you

Oh you think he's gonna look dapper and handsome when biting? No.

he looks like someone just injected feral juice and some type of drug into him, even if it's for a spilt second

This is what you get when he bites,

Is it his way of showing affection? Is it some type of weird way to gain control over you? Maybe it's to make you flustered or lose your composer for a second perhaps even to cause you a moment of misery because he's a weirdo

Or emergency snack time,

I know he's a cannibal and not a vampire but I feel like you toss some glitter on him and shine a flashlight at him he'll be a decent dupe for that one guy in twilight

I also feel like you would NOT survive doing that to him, do not throw glitter on the Radio demon and then blind him with a flashlight

You two could be having a very nice time, taking a walk, maybe your just sitting side by side somewhere and he'll just gently take your arm and before you can even process it you feel a stinging feeling and you see the oh so feared Radio demon with his teeth mid-way into your arm looking goofy, so silly.

I feel like if you start biting him back he'll either be displeased with it and nip that behavior in the bud or it becomes a game between you two,

Bonding by just chompin' down on your S/O's arm very wholesome

Also I don't know if you can get infections from getting bit in Hell but I feel like you should disinfect the bites, he might have something

Thank you for tuning in and reading folks! I hope you all have a wonderful evening!

[slaybestieslay946]

Oh me gosh can you please do a Luke Castellan x reader fic where he’s just so head over heels for her but she’s so clueless and everyone keeps trying to get her to notice but she won’t and like they’re bests friends🤗🤗

tysm for ur request! if you don't mind I tweaked it a bit so its annabeth and percy trying to set up Luke and reader! hope you enjoy!

KISS THE GIRL

word count: 2000

pairing: Luke Castellan x poseidon!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: Even though this is a daughter of poseidon fic, its not part of my future au! for Luke.

MASTERLIST

Percy and Annabeth were standing at the edge of the amphitheatre, talking about something mindless when they spotted you and Luke walking towards the entrance, seeming deeping engaged in conversation. 

Annabeth watched as you laughed at something Luke said and a light blush tinged his cheeks, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Could he get any more obvious?

“Oi, Perce,” She whispered, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” She asked, nudging him to look in the direction of the pair of you. 

“Yeah, I see my sister with Luke, what about it-” It appeared the realisation finally struck him, “Oh my god, are they-?” 

“I don’t know. He’s definitely into her, I know that.” Annabeth mused, inspecting the pair as they grabbed two wooden swords and began sparring together, laughing as they repeatedly dodged and side-stepped the other. 

“He told you that?” Percy asked, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. 

“Well, no. But it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?” 

Annabeth then gasped in realisation, startling Percy slightly before he realised it was just another one of her epiphanies. 

“We should get them together!” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Isn’t that something you leave up to Aphrodite kids?” Percy asked hesitantly. 

“Battle strategy and romantic strategy aren’t all that different.” She shrugged, before dragging him off to draw up new ‘romantic’ battle plans with her. 

STAGE 1: CONFRONT LUKE

Annabeth’s strategy wasn’t all that complicated, and she was pretty certain the most difficult part would be getting Luke to admit his feelings. But, as it turns out, he cracked pretty quickly. 

“Alright, you got me.” He sighed, holding his hands up in surrender, “I do like her, but can you blame me? I mean, she’s so smart, and beautiful, and kind, and-”

“That’s enough lover boy. Cool it.” Percy said, cutting him off with a groan. As much as he had given Annabeth his blessing to go along with this crazy plan, he still didn’t want to hear Luke gushing about how hot his sister is. 

“Sorry man.” Luke chuckled awkwardly, before the pair of boys turned back to Annabeth to lead the conversation. 

“So, now that you’ve admitted it, we need to start brainstorming how we’re gonna get you guys together.” She said, clapping her hands together and producing a roll of paper, with a long list of ideas that she promptly began to read out. 

The list ranged from pretty normal things like ‘take her out on a picnic’ to insane stuff like ‘bring her a monster's head as a gift’. Luke wasn’t so sure you would be a fan of that one, but he had to admit all the other items were pretty good ideas. 

“So what do you suggest, Annie? Work our way down the list?” Luke asked, and his little sister nodded, before outlining which ones she thought would be best. 

“We should start small, you don’t wanna freak her out,” She consulted the list again, thinking to herself, “Ah, here we go, ‘Give her a compliment’.” 

“Ok, I think I can do that.” Luke grinned, his head immediately flooded with things that he loved about you. 

“Just don’t make it weird, or I’ll revoke my blessing.” Percy grumbled, his arms crossed as Luke laughed sheepishly again. 

“Will do.”

STAGE 2: START SMALL

The next week mostly consisted of Annabeth and Percy spying on you and Luke at any possible moment. 

The first of his tasks, to give you a compliment seemed to go well. The pair of preteens watched on from their spot behind a tree as the pair of you separated to go to dinner, and Luke complimented your hair. You blushed slightly, and smiled widely, before rushing off to your own table in the dining pavilion. 

Luke quickly whipped around to look at Percy and Annabeth who gave him enthusiastic thumbs ups. 

His next task was to give you a small gift, and he decided that it should take the form of the matching charm bracelets he made with the younger kids. Annabeth and Percy sat with him as he deliberated over specific colours and shapes of bead, until they were nearly sick of his equivocation. 

But, as much as watching him make it was downright annoying, Percy had to admit the way you both wore your charm bracelets everyday afterwards was pretty cute. 

The final task of the week was to bring you flowers, and that whole day Luke could be seen wading through fields of wildflowers looking for the perfect ones to add to his bouquet. This was then snuck onto your nightstand later that night by Percy, who over the course of the week had become very invested in your blossoming relationship, a fact he would deny to the ends of the earth. 

STAGE 3: ESCALATE

“Alright Luke, time to bring out the big guns.” Annabeth announced, before clearing her throat and reading the list of tasks for the week. 

‘Sit at her table during dinner’

‘At least one compliment a day’

‘One instance of arm-around-the-waist contact’

This was the point at which the Hermes boy began to get slightly nervous. The other stuff before could be pretty easily written off as friendly, but sitting at someone's table at dinner? Only couples did that. 

“Are you sure that’s not moving too fast, I mean-”

“Luke Castellan, don’t be so damn pathetic! Grow some balls, before someone else steals your girl!” Annabeth exclaimed, whacking him over the head with the list. 

He nodded, “Yes Ma’am.”

From then on, he was pretty much unwavering in his determination. He sat at your table every mealtime, slinging an arm around your shoulder, or your waist. Anytime you came up with a capture the flag strategy, he’d praise you intelligence, anytime he saw you, he greeted you with a ‘Morning beautiful’ or a ‘Hey sweetheart’. 

Annabeth and Percy were shocked with his sudden progress, but pretty impressed with the way it was going. At this point, the pair of you were practically dating. 

The only minor setback came in the form of your complete and utter cluelessness. 

Percy had decided to test the waters with you, and gently float the idea of you getting together with Luke. 

“You’ve been spending loads of time with Luke at the moment.” He remarked casually as you both walked back to cabin 3. 

“You’ve just noticed I spend time with my best friend? Well done kid.” You laughed, ruffling his curly blonde hair. 

“That’s not what I meant.” He rolled his eyes, ducking out of your grasp. 

“Then what did you mean?” You asked, hands on your hips, a confused expression on your face. 

“I meant like, you guys being ‘involved’.” He shrugged, trying to make it sound as nonchalant as possible while looking out for your every reaction. He was unreasonably invested at this point, but oh well. 

“What?!” You exclaimed, your voice suddenly going higher pitched, “Nah, no chance! Luke would never.” 

Percy had to stop his jaw from dropping to the floor. It would’ve made sense if you denied having feelings for him, but to be so oblivious of how whipped that boy was for you? He thought you were smart. 

“Yeah, sure. I guess so.” He shrugged once again, before swiftly changing the subject. 

STAGE 4: KISS THE GIRL!!

“Guys, we have a problem.” Percy said, bursting in on Luke and Annabeth’s conversation the next morning. 

“What?” The pair asked in sync, concerned expressions on their faces. 

“Y/N is an idiot.” 

“Woah, don’t say that about her-” Luke began, desperate to defend your honour, but was cut off by Annabeth’s harsh glare. 

“What do you mean, Perce?” She asked, her tone level. 

“Luke, man, she has no clue you like her. Like she is convinced it’s impossible.” Percy explained, and Annabeth’s expression also grew confused. 

“Gods, she really is dumb.” She sighed, ignoring Luke’s chiding at insulting you, “We’re gonna have to really turn it up a notch. Luke, it’s time to really bring out the big guns.”

For the next few days, Luke, Annabeth and Percy spent most of their time rushing around preparing for Annabeth’s so-called ‘masterstroke’. 

And then, after much hard work from the trio, it was ready, and Luke was whisking you away from the campfire to the surprise he had prepared for you. 

“Luke, where are we going?!” You laughed as he dragged you along by the wrist, a piece of cloth tied around your head to block your vision. 

“You’ll see.” He chuckled, gently directing you around a tree root as he led you deeper into the forest. 

“I swear, if you’re kidnapping me I am not going to be happy.” You teased that infectious smile he loved so much covering your face. 

“No, no kidnapping tonight.”

You continued to joke around together as he led you towards his destination, until eventually you came to a halt, and he was untying the cloth around your face. 

You gasped in delight as you saw you were by the pier, and in front of you was a picnic blanket set up with all of your favourite food and drink. 

Immediately you grabbed him by the arm and led him to the blanket, thanking him all the way and gushing about how sweet and amazing he was. Meanwhile, Luke was trying not to pass out from the barrage of affection you were giving him. 

The pair of you quickly tucked into the meal, laughing and joking. But all the while, Luke was preparing his confession, and trying not to let his palms get too sweaty. 

Eventually, he decided it was time, and he made his move. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yeah?” You looked up at him with shining eyes, and he had to remind himself to breathe. 

“I’m in-” His love confession was cut off by the sudden boom of fireworks above you both, and he silently cursed himself for forgetting to organise a signal with Annabeth to start them. She really did have bad timing sometimes. 

“Oh my gods! Fireworks!” You exclaimed, nudging Luke to take a closer look, pointing out which ones were your favourites, and clearly any speculation about what Luke was going to say had escaped your mind. 

Eventually the display was over, and you turned to him yet again, gushing about how lucky they were that fireworks were out tonight. He couldn’t help but wonder how someone usually so smart could be so clueless?

“I organised the fireworks, Y/N.” He said, softly, placing his calloused hand over yours. 

“What, really?!” You blinked owlishly at him for a moment before furrowing your brows and asking, “Wait, how come?” 

Luke couldn’t contain his chuckle. 

“Isn’t it obvious by now? I’m in love with you. I’ve been trying to hint at it for weeks, but clearly I wasn’t being obvious enough.”

“What? Why?” You stammered, shock coating your face entirely. 

“Why am I in love with you?” He asked as if it was a stupid question, which to him it was, because he could list a million things that he loved about you. 

“Because you’re beautiful, and smart, and kind, and generous, and every time I see you I can’t help but smile because you're my best friend and I love you more than anything.” He rambled, wiping his slightly clammy palms on his cargos. 

“Now I’d really appreciate it if you’d put me out of my misery and reject me.” He said sheepishly, itching the back of his neck. 

But, of course, the rejection never came. Instead you were rushing forwards to hold his face in your hands and kiss him, slowly and deeply. 

And, about ten metres away, Annabeth and Percy could be seen high-fiving behind a tree, before skipping back to the campfire in glee.

[gguksgalaxy]

The Smart Thing | JWW

You come home ready to sleep your stress off in the arms of your boyfriend, he seems to have other plans in mind. Ones that don't quite include rest.

›› Genre: Smut (legit just filth) ›› Rating: 18+ (explicit s-x) ›› Pairing: Wonwoo x f.Reader ›› Wordcount: 2.4k ›› Warnings: Fingering (f.rec), unprotected s-x (in a relationship, be safe) while half asleep, manhandling and holding her in place, Wonwoo's a bit of a tease, bit of crying, one (1) spank, petnames, praise, begging, cr-ampie, probably missed something. Ik it sounds similar to Mingyu's but trust it isn't fjdlsk ›› Mingyu ver. ›› This one was a bit of a struggle but I hope you guys like this as well. If you do, let me know!! <3 And again thanks to the lovely @homerunhansol for proofing this and giving me confidence

No matter how deep his slumber, Wonwoo always wakes at the feeling of your body hitting the bed. His hands cradle you better than the sheets, body providing warmth that soothes the exhaustion in your bones. Perhaps you don’t need sleep, just the feeling of him slotting his body against your back. The rumble in his chest when he hums against your neck, kisses down your shoulder. His presence provides the last thing you need to relax, to become pliant to his touch. Your eyes fall shut, sleep creeping up the edges of your consciousness. The same way his fingers inch under the fabric of your shirt. 

“You’re late,” Wonwoo breathes, voice roughened with sleep.

You let out a breathy chuckle. “T’was busy.” You’re barely audible, halfway to dreamland when you notice where his hands are going. Nimble fingers dancing along the crease of your breast, tongue darting out to taste your skin over your pulsepoint. “Wonwoo,” you warn.

He shushes you, lets his teeth sink into your earlobe. It has you swimming, the warm touch of his palm over your tits, nails teasing along your nipples. Quick sparks of pleasure keep you on the edge of sleep. The sleep that you very much needed and were craving for the past hours. And now that you’re here, comfortable between the sheets and your lover, you’re tempted to stay awake a bit longer. Just to see how far he’s willing to take this to jeopardise his own rest. 

You let out a soft moan when he tweaks your nipple, eyes fluttering shut, head sinking further into the pillow. He’s gentle with it—gentle with you. Any protest to go to sleep dies on your tongue. The way he’s playing you isn’t about him. He’s all over you. Kneads at your chest like he could mould you to his hands. You already are though. 

Moulded to the shape of him that is. The way you crane your head back to give him more space to kiss you. The perfect fit of your tits in his hands. The press of his leg between yours. He takes you apart so easily, wetness gathering against the cotton of your underwear. But none of it is enough to jolt you, barely enough to keep you awake. Awake enough to tell that he’s growing hard behind you, but not awake enough to do much about it. You’re in the most beautifully warm place. Swimming in arousal and cushioned by the precipice of sweet sleep.

“You’re so sexy like this,” he mumbles into your skin, hand sneaking down to feel how wet you are. It has him groaning, hot breath puffing against your skin. “So pliant for me.”

His words have your stomach clenching, a gush of wetness between your thighs. “Wonwoo,” you mumble, reaching a hand behind you to find the short hair at the nape of his neck. He turns into it, running his nose up your arm. “The smart thing to do would be to go to sleep.”

“I believe,” he starts, thumb pressing down over your clit over the fabric of your underwear, “the smart thing to do would be me.”

The words of rebuttal to his awful joke die on the back of your tongue when he grabs you tighter. He slides an arm under your neck, twisting it over your chest to pull you to him. You know this position, twist into him just as he wants with a leg spread over his hips. Give him full access to your body without as much of a word. You know what he wants, and you wouldn’t deny him. Because you’re well aware that it’ll be worth the time and lack of sleep.

Wonwoo wastes no time to slide his hand into your panties, fingers slipping between your wet folds and moaning at the feeling. Your entire body shivers, goosebumps from your neck to your fingers at his sounds. Your stomach clenches when his fingers circle your clit, then dip lower to slide into you. He knows you needed it, knew it better than you did, because you relax so easily at the feeling.  Your eyes once again fall shut, head tilting back over his shoulder. His mouth skims over your jaw, fingers still. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he whispers, breathy, on the cusp between a chuckle and a moan.

You smile. “‘Could.”

He hums, nuzzling into your cheek before pulling his fingers out. Then he slides them back in slowly, makes you feel every single knuckle that enters you. He repeats this over and over and over. Provides no additional stimulation but the achingly slow drag of his fingers inside your cunt and it’s so good it almost does lull you to sleep. Your breathing evening out, chest heavy under his palm, legs lax. Just him around you, warm breaths and gentle fingers. 

A sharp slap to your thigh wakes you up instantly. It stings, blooms warm over your skin when he palms over it. No words follow, but the message is clear. Don’t fall asleep. 

You tilt your hips with a whine, empty, aching. He smiles into your skin, knows that you need him now that he’s given you a taste. Crave him more than the heavy pull of sleep. Soon, he fills you again, fingers more firm in their presses now. Less teasing, more pleasure, sending warmth coiling up your spine. Sweet little moans fall from your lips. He eats it up, lips on the corner of your mouth. All while he strokes your insides just right, palm brushing your clit with every pass. 

Your lover moans when you twist, pressing your ass into his now very hard crotch. “Baby,” you whine, tilting your head towards him even more. He doesn’t respond, merely nudges your head back with his, hand tightening on your tit where he holds it. “Baby, please.” You know Wonwoo won’t give you anything if he doesn’t deem you ready, but perhaps sleep clouds him enough to give in to you. “Need you.” 

His fingers sound slick inside of you, your wetness gushing out when he presses in deep, palm flat to your body. He’s so deep, you swear you can feel him in your stomach and it’s not even his cock inside of you yet. He presses right where you need him, right where he knows you’ll fall apart for him. Rubbing hard, having you moan loud, clenching hard as if to suck his fingers in even deeper. His name falls from your lips, barely audible, barely coherent. Dumb from the battle between pleasure and exhaustion. 

“You want to cum?” Wonwoo asks, whispers it into your ear with a graze of his tongue to your skin. You’re not close yet, but he can have you fall over that edge in a matter of seconds if he so pleases. 

You nod and grab his wrist, pressing your cunt close to him. “Woo.” The words escape you. A hiccup breaking from your throat because you’re too far gone to tell him you need to cum on his cock. He twists his fingers in a way that is just a little mean. Your toes curl when he does it again, and again, “Wonwoo!” you cry out, grabbing his wrist harder yet rutting closer. Your whole body is thrumming. 

“What is it?” He says it so sweetly, follows you as you curl onto your side, spoons you. Your legs close on his hand, trap him in your heat. “You know what,” Wonwoo trails his words off, wrestling his hand out from between your thighs. “I’ll be nice.”

You huff, but comply and wait. He grabs his pillow and rolls you onto it, hips propped up just enough for him to position himself between your legs from behind. There’s a rustle of fabric, the tantalising feeling of his palm smoothing down your back, and then the familiar feeling of him dragging the head of his cock through your soaked folds. 

It has your entire body on edge, trying to lift your hips to his, anything to feel him. He shushes you again, presses your back down to the sheets. Mumbles something about how he’s got you, will take care of you, loves you, as he teases you. 

When he finally presses in, you whine. Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and he blankets his body with yours as he sinks deeper. Bottoms out, hips to your ass, hands beside your head searching for yours. Like he needs you for purchase too, fingers finding a home between yours while you grab at the sheets. Shaking under him. 

He groans your name into your ear when you clench down hard at the first thrust. The press of him inside of you is so delicious, so familiar—but this angle has always been so much more intense. You barely feel conscious at this point, swimming. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be doing any better, a deep curse falling from his lips when he pulls out and pushes back in all the way. Hips pressing so close to you to try and get that last inch in.  To get so deep you’ll feel him for days. Again, like he’s moulding you to the shape of him. 

You’d stay like this forever if you could. Hidden between your lover and the sheets. Slick sounds of your cunt sucking him in, him panting into your shoulder. He holds himself to you, the weight of him on top of you just right. As is everything. As he always is with you. And if he holds himself still for too long you will fall asleep to this. The warm pleasure of him filling you, the feeling of his heart beating against your back. You find yourself drifting, breaths evening out. 

“Stay with me, love.” Wonwoo doesn’t drag himself out of you, too lost in the feeling of being surrounded by your heat. Instead, he ruts himself against your body, providing friction that makes you whine sleepily. “I’m here,” he breathes, voice shaky with it all. Shaky like your body under his trying to process the pleasure coursing through you. 

Trying to find a way to get more—more of him. But he’s got you pinned. Body snug under his, hands intertwined, legs feeling like jello. He controls the pace, the depth, and thus how long this will go on for. How far he’s going to take this spiel, whether he’ll fuck you so slowly you can’t help but fall asleep, or he flips it and fucks you so hard you pass out. Both thoughts have your stomach coiling with arousal. 

One particularly hard thrust has your body jolting up the bed. His cock hitting you just right, just once. One warning until he’s back to slow grinding and heavy breathing. He kisses up and down your neck and shoulder while he enjoys your body laid out for him.

You need more.

“Woo,” you whine, high, high pitched and small. The pleasure bubbles up, his cock dragging along your walls, every inch of him torturously good. You’re dripping onto the pillow below you. But there is no way you’ll cum from just this. It’s divine, toe-curling, perfect, but you need more. Something other than this gentle assault on your senses. 

He hears you, always does. Slides a hand under you to where your body meets the pillow and parts your slick folds. Two fingers find your clit and rest there. Then, he lifts himself just a bit, enough to gain purchase and start really fucking you. Dragging his cock out and pressing back in. One smooth motion, a delicious back and forth that has you purring almost. Enough to push you back and forth over his fingers. Exactly what you’d needed. 

You’re on edge in seconds. The feeling of him inside of you, hitting that one spot he knows so well, and his rough-padded fingers over your clit send you hurtling towards your orgasm faster than you’d expected. Suddenly, you’re wide awake. Eyes pressed shut, hand tightening to his, moaning his name loudly, just once. 

“Almost there, love,” he answers. You have to bite into the pillow to hold back. Knowing the overstimulation would be too much. Knowing he wants to finish together. He’s close too, from the feeling of it. Thrusts a little shaky, breath a little ragged. The sound rumbles in his chest, followed by a whine. A sound you’ve only heard when he’s got it bad—bad for you. When he’s so lost in you that all control flies out the window. 

You want to see him like that. Want to watch his brows furrow, lip pulled between his teeth. Sweat lining his temples, flush on his cheeks. He always looks so heavenly when he’s taking you fully. No bells or whistles, just bare in the sheets in your home. Like right now—spare for your shirts. He groans your name again, and again, and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. His thrusts growing even harder. 

Hard enough to push you up the bed. To have you hiccuping and holding a hand against the headboard to stop yourself from moving too much. But fuck does it feel good. Pleasure courses through you, you hold your breath to not lose it right then and there. He can’t keep asking you to wait. Not when you’re this close. Not when you feel this good. 

Suddenly, his fingers slip—accidentally or on purpose—squeezing your clit between two digits. It sends you hurtling over the edge so hard. Tears well up in your eyes while you shake under him. Run down your cheeks when he slams into you and stills, his own body spasming with his own orgasm. You whine, followed by a sob ripping from your throat. He cums deep inside of you, but with how your ears are ringing and your limbs are shaking, you can barely tell. 

Can’t react when he slips out of you and fusses over your trembling form. Brushes your hair from your face, kisses your cheek where the tears left a trail. Tells you how good you did for him. It’s all a blur. One big fuzzy image of him everywhere and anywhere around you. That was probably one of the best orgasms he’s ever given you. 

He soothes a hand over your back. “Go to sleep, love. I’ll clean you off,” are the last words you hear before sleep pulls you in. 

taggins: @gyuswhore @chansgyu @hyunsunni

Thanks for reading and feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments, tags, or my inbox!! <3

[avocado-writing]

Hii can I request like a poly DP+W x shy!reader (?)

Like the reader is mostly quiet and calm in most cases (which makes the dynamic more interesting) but when Wade and Logan discuss some sort of media the reader likes in a negative light or getting the info wrong and reader being a straight up nerd just blast in their faces

" [ insert media ] is so trash, I don't understand why people like it honestly." Logan says as he sips his beer

"I don't mind I just don't get how [ insert misinfo ]

"YOU IMBECILES ITS NOTHING LIKE THAT YOU INFERIOR SPECIES I HOPE YOU TWO D-" like the reader is absolutely tweaking about there hyperfixation and Wade and Logan didn't expect that, how would they react?

Something like that ? :D

Logan doesn’t really have much context for what they’re gonna tease you about, but Wade just asks him to go along with it

He tells Logan it’s fun to see you get fiery about stuff sometimes. Mostly you’re calm, the peacemaker between them, but he knows you have a feisty side and it’s entertaining to make it come out sometimes.

They’ll feign being in the middle of a conversation when you walk in: “I don’t know, I just think it’s overhyped. It’s for kids after all, not sure why it has some huge adult following” “it’s a cartoon, right?” “Yeah, I mean really, cartoons are for kids…”

You begin to twitch. Open your mouth, close it, try to hold back… but the more they go on…

You snap.

”What do you two know! It’s one of the best shows ever made, even if it was meant for kids! Where do you get character growth like that across just three seasons? An actual redeemed villain? Episodes which make you cry? It’s fucking better than Game of Thrones that’s for sure!”

You go on for a little bit longer and Wade just stands there grinning. When you realise you’ve been duped into an outburst you harrumph and storm off.

They’ll make it up to you that evening (a binge watch if your show and takeout) but before then Wade just turns to Logan like… “see?”

Logan drinks his beer. “It was cute. Kinda mean though.” “Oh, c’mon, as if you two don’t bully me all of the time.” “You like it Wade. You told me it makes you cum.” “Touché…”

[ghoastixx]

what about spn boys with an S/o who pranks them with the ‘monthly shed’ thing? How would they react to that?

SPN boys being pranked with the monthly shed

synopsis above

notes: I hope you know, whoever you are, I love you for this. This.. this is amazing.

Author's notes: Gender Neutral Reader, but AFAB body. Mentions of menstrual cycle.

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

Dean Winchester

Freaks the hell out.

Brother does NOT understand, he hardly understands makeup as a whole so he would never even think of it as an option.

"Is it like your period?? Is it a side affect??" "Baby, what do you mean? It's my monthly shed." "I THOUGHT THAT WAS YOUR PERIOD."

He is stressing.

He would 100% ask if you need anything. Tries to tell you that you look amazing, though he does wonder if you're a monster.

Will ignore you once he finds out you were joking. You scared him, he's petty.

Will ask you how you did it.. he wants to try it on Sam.

Sam Winchester

Now, Sammy is a smart boy. He's lived with a girl before, I feel like he'd know better. He knows how makeup works.

..but you're so persuasive.

He shakes himself out of it, he knows very quickly you're bullshitting.

He's mostly just interested on what exactly you had on to make it look like you could peel your skin off. He wants to know how it works, how you put it on, what it is.

This is what you get for loving a smart boy.

Castiel

He's confused

genuinely so confused.

"Does this have to do with a humans menstrual cycle..I was not aware..the human body could do that.."

Asks if there is a way he can help..what you do with the skin..how to treat this..how long you've been dealing with it.

Genuinely if you were to go further with the joke and use the siren-esc route I've seen on tiktok where they mention that "To keep our beauty we have to drain it from men" he will actually tweak a little bit.

He doesn't remember Eve having to do that?? When was this update??

Please reassure him you're joking, he might have a crisis.

Gabriel

Even if he knew that you were joking, he would soo play into it

"Sugar, what are you doing?" "My monthly shed," "Your monthly shed?" "Yes, why is something wrong?" "I've never seen something like this before, sugar. What is it that you do for this again?" "Ah, I have to drain a man to keep my beauty before I wilt." "OH. SO THAT'S WHY YOU'RE WITH ME."

It literally goes exactly like that. Nothing else.

He does ask you how you do it though, sure he could do the same thing if he wanted, for real, but he wants to see you do it.

Lucifer

He is slightly intrigued.

"My dear, whatever are you doing?" You mention you're peeling your skin off?

"Darling, you're shedding?"

Immediately (Ironically) compares it to a snake in his mind. Wonders if his father punished humanity finally.

"My darling, I was around. I do not remember this being..necessary."

He sniffs it out so fast.

Would act unphased but he sort of does want to know about your odd illusions you can do with the odd..face paint you insist on wearing.

Crowley

Only a tad bit concerned.

Humans don't normally..do that.. do they.

I think he would be confused but would want to act like he knew what was going on.

Like..yes this is totally normal! oh- a joke- psh yeah I knew that, I was only humoring you, angel.

What a charmer.

[confessionbrain-writings]

Loved your Benny Gross story!

Could you maybe write something about him protecting the reader from someone who bothers her. Taking her with him for a ride and ends with fluff/smut? 🤞🏼 (love me a protective man)

Can I first of all say: thank you! I've never had a request before, so I'm humbled. Anyway, before I went to sleep this came to my mind and it was on paper so quick, I surprised myself😂. I tweaked it a bit, so I hope you don't mind. Enjoy!🧡

With clammy hands you grabbed the box of cereal and looked out of the corner of your eye. A silent curse slipped your lips as you saw him standing there, again.

You were just doing some groceries, when you had a sudden feeling of being watched. Quickly you spotted this clean shaven, black haired guy who subtly - but also not so subtly - eyed you down and started to follow every aisle you took. After the third time you knew it was no coincidence and an unpleasant feeling spread throughout your body. A weird and irksome aura radiating from him.

Even though you weren’t finished yet, you wanted to get out. Not wanting to be in this stranger’s unpleasant energy any longer. With just some cereal and donuts, you made your way to the register. Glancing back you loosened a breathe when you didn’t spot the man immediately. Finally, he left you alone.

Quickly you placed the two items onto the belt and reached into your purse for some cash. A loud thud behind you made you jump. Suddenly the stranger was standing right there, dropping a soda on the conveyer belt as he looked you up and down with this weird look in his eyes.

“Hi there, darlin’. How are ya?” Even his voice gave you the creeps, and you couldn’t withhold the shiver from running down your spine.

Though you didn’t want to, you responded to him anyway, just like how your parents had raised their submissive and civilized girl.

“I’m good,” you answered curtly and gave him a quick fake smile, returning your attention to the cashier and handing her some cash.

“Let me take ya out t’night.” It didn’t really sounded like a question, and the implication made your skin crawl. You swallowed thickly. 

Just when you wanted to open your mouth, you were interrupted by a loud roaring engine from outside and watched how a handsome, blond biker stopped in front of the store.

Without giving it any more thought, the words already flew from your mouth. “No, thank you sir, I’m already taken.” As you answered him and nodded to the biker outside, before swiftly grabbing the items and clung them to your chest.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying your lie. But before he could respond, you walked - or more like ran - outside.

Your heart hammered in your throat as you took some shallow breaths. Normally you’d never dared to approach a member of the motorcycle club, but your brain short-circuited before you could think this through.

“Excuse me,” you breathed and the biker just swung his leg over the seat of his bike. “I know this sounds really weird but uh— I— he—“ you quickly glanced over your shoulder and saw how the stranger exited the store. “Could you maybe pretend to be my boyfriend for just a second? T-this guy is following me and giving me the creeps and—“ 

“C’mere.” The biker’s deep voice interrupted as he beckoned you with a wiggle of his ring-adorned fingers. Already putting one and one together, you took a step forward as he casually leaned back against his bike. 

A gasp left you when you felt his hand on your lower arm, pulling you more towards him as he took the donuts you were holding.

“These are jus’ the ones I’ve been talkin’ about. Thank you, baby.” The biker said loud enough for the stranger to hear and casually took a bit from the donut. Your heart was pounding so loud, your ears were buzzing. 

“I know, honey,” you replied and were surprised by how steady your voice was. “These are your favorites!”

The stranger stopped in his tracks and watched the two of you, contemplating what he beheld before him. You needed to be more convincing.

You turned your back to the creep and focused on the biker. Goodness gracious. This man up-close was undeniable gorgeous with his piercing blue eyes and full lips. Lips which were now covered with a bit of glaze from the donut. Before you could comprehend what you were about to do, you reached out.

With your thumb you swiped the sugary substance from his lower-lip and brought it towards your own mouth. But before you could lick it clean, the biker got hold on your wrist. Your eyes widened slightly and asked him a silent question. What are you doing?! 

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, suddenly the atmosphere getting tense, but not unpleasant. No, just the opposite. 

The biker guided your hand back towards his mouth and you couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath when he took your digit in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around to remove the glaze and even sucked at your finger, releasing it with a pop.

A totally different feeling pounced through your veins at the sensation. A blush crept onto your cheeks as butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. Whatever what was going on suddenly felt very intimate and exhilarating at the same time.  

For a split second, a smile tugged at the biker’s lips but was gone with one blink. His gaze and demeanor getting darker as his eyes moved towards the stranger. 

“What y’lookin’ at my girl?” He challenged and the stranger flinched. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.

“No.. no! She— I didn’t know s—she was your g—girl!” He stuttered and quickly made his way to his car before driving off with a panicked glance.

The sight of the stranger leaving, made you relax your tense shoulders and releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You quickly turned back to the biker.

“Thank you! And I’m sorry!” You rambled and let out a huffing laugh. This whole situation was insane.

This time the biker didn’t hide his smile, flashing you his perfect teeth before his eyebrows scrunched. “I’m sorry that happened t’you. Are y’okay?”

You nodded as you stared at your hand which was still evolved is his. The rough skin somehow pleasant against yours.

“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m okay.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

A pause stretched between you. Both of you just taking each other in and reveling in the comfortable silence, before you continued.

“You can keep the donuts, I need more groceries anyway, but didn’t want to spend any second longer with that creeper.”

He pursed his lips and hummed. “Lemme help y’with that”.

You blinked and fluttered your lashes at him. “That’s really kind of you…”

“Benny.”

“Benny,” you parroted. “But I think I can manage. Don’t think there are other creeps inside.”

Benny tilted his head and squeezed your wrist before releasing it. “Please, I insist.” Without waiting for you response, he reached for the cereal and placed it on his bike, offering his arm after.

You bit your lip as you sighed, but looped your arm through his and looked up at him. “Okay.”

He gave you another breath-taking smile and winked at you. “Okay.”

[cinnamonest]

not too sure if you've already put thought into it, but which yanderes would be/wouldn't be willing to break bones? i feel like for most of them it's a hard yes but depending on the circumstances and their mental fragility.

also sadisim. (COUGHCOUGHCHILDECOUGHCOUGH)

ignore this ask if you've already answered/have a question similar to this (or just don't want to answer/! and if your reqs are closed and my tumblrs just tweaking that's okay too!!

I would say Albedo initially, but he's a practical man, if you're not going to be using the limbs anyway might as well just take them off, so… as for some others…

Kazuha does it for practicality, specifically your ankles. It's a useful risk prevention method.

He still feels bad, and he apologizes… but he doesn't hesitate much. After all, he did give you fair warning, but you ran off yet again. This is just to keep you safe, for your own well-being, and for his peace of mind.

He's sweet about it too. He puts your hand against his arm beforehand, and tells you here, you can squeeze down on my arm, okay? After all, it will help with the initial pain.

He's still sweet when you squirm away and whimper, even though the grip with which he pulls you back is harsh.

I know. But I can't let you be a danger to yourself…

He holds you gently for however long it takes you to stop crying. He'll get you water and food and painkillers/alcohol, tends to your every need, waits on you hand and (broken) foot. Notably, once the initial reaction has died down, he stops really acknowledging it in any meaningful way, talks to you as if everything is normal. Even when addressing your leg, he talks about it as if it were some injury you acquired by other means.

You might be spiteful enough to bring it up and remind him that it's his fault, but he's quick to correct you, keeping a soft voice and gentle smile all the while.

You did have every opportunity to choose otherwise, you know. Ah, but I know you're upset… it's okay if you blame me.

He'll be fully patient for you to heal, too. He’s very cheerful once it's fully healed, says he's glad you're better, helps you walk around a bit to get readjusted, keeping his hands firmly supporting you the entire time. Even for a while after it's healed enough to walk, he checks on it from time to time to ensure the final stages of mending are going well.

He tells you you're fully healed, with a soft voice and ever-pleasant smile, not without adding—

Let’s hope it stays that way.

----

Childe has to be in a more angry mood than usual to get to that point. Usually, his form of sadism is the sort that focuses on a sort of pleasure-pain, the sort he can get off to… but this is a bit different.

It's only because you keep being irritating. He's really tolerant, you know? He's been so lenient, he tells you, he's been so nice, he's been so good to you, and what do you do? You keep being mean. It's cute up to a certain point, but you're being like, really really mean.

It's actually kind of nice, on his end, to see your immediate reaction — you can tell just by the strained smile and clenched teeth as he speaks that you've crossed some sort of line. For once, you actually shrink back, clutch your hands up at your chest defensively, start to take some steps back… but you can't get away fast enough before you're drug forward by the hair or neck.

Come on… it's not that hard to be good, is it?

It's a last chance — he's nice enough to give you that, at least, even if you don't deserve it (which you don't, he thinks). Come on. You can be good, you can apologize and submit and he'll forget all the spiteful shit you've done today and then you can have a nice, happy rest of the day. You can do it. It should be easy. He takes one of your hands in his, holding it with a sort of sincere pleading gesture.

But, even though you should know better, you still remain spiteful through your fear, narrow your eyes and tell him no. You try to jerk your hand away, only to find his grip on it is iron-firm.

His smile twitches.

Aw. That's too bad.

And thus, you process the sound and sight before the pain — you see him take your hand and twist it, hear the snap, and only then does the pain shoot up through your wrist, through your arm and to every nerve in your body. It's bad enough that you fall to your knees, squealing, cradling the now-unnaturally-twisted limb.

Yes, he's very very nice, but admittedly, hearing you wail like that is rather pleasing, all things considered. More so when he grabs you by the jaw, jerks your head up to force you to look at him, and sees the tears in your eyes, the way your face contorts with pain.

Maybe you can be good now…?

This time, you squeeze your eyes shut, frantically nodding your head, a pitiful little sound coming out of your throat. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't very satisfying.

---

There's also a notable difference between willing to break bones and likelihood of breaking bones, actively willing or not.

Some non-humans are particularly unaware of their strength — Xiao fits this well. He genuinely doesn't like hurting you, although you would think so, based on how much he does, it's just that he forgets how fragile you are. For someone of his strength, your body might as well be made of glass.

So it just sort of happens… he grabs you by the arm or leg and pulls in the wrong direction a bit too hard, there's a stomach-churning snapping sound and suddenly you're shrieking and crying. It startles him quite a bit — he lets go and shrinks back, all wide-eyed and head darting from side to side as he looks around in confused panic.

But just as with fragility, he's also not very aware of the durability of the human body. He’s not great at gauging severity of injury — normally, he just attacks creatures until they stop moving, because that's his goal when it comes to his responsibilities.

So he has no real reference for how much damage he's done. Bones are all connected, yes? He probably broke something important, or made some internal organ come apart somehow, and it will kill you. The thought sends him into a full-fledged panic, he's bolting off and dragging help back as fast as physically possible, explaining that you have sustained mortal injury and are on the verge of death.

He's at least comforted to learn that that is in fact not the case, and you have merely broken your arm, which, the innkeeper confirms, is in fact not fatal. He's too relieved to notice the blatant frustration in her voice (this marks the fourth time he's insisted you are about to die over something actually far more trivial), and merely nods when she asks to please be more careful.

He doesn't really know how to handle the matter from there. He feels guilty about it. You're obviously in pain, and it's his fault. He'll sit next to you, hunched over and staring with those big yellow eyes as if trying to make you heal faster with sheer willpower. Makes sure you don't get up and move around (despite your insistence that your legs are just fine — still can't take risks, he says), disappears for a while each day and comes back with mountaintop herbs that are supposed to dull pain.

He doesn't outright say sorry, but you can see the remorse on his face and in his actions, and it's actually kind of pitiful… it reminds you of a little kid that broke a vase sheepishly trying to put it back together… all in all, you can't really bring yourself to be harsh about it.

[feyascorner]

suggestion for a funny but fluff fic or miniseries: Modern day Baldurs gate /faerun, were Ascended Astarion and GN Consort reader have lived a couple of centuries together and are still acting like newlyweds / deeply in love and just obsessed with each other. (but also dress gothic/victorian or like they don't belong in the current timeline.)

Would be funny if its written from the perspective of a new servant or a party guest- Maybe they mess up using medieval words when trying to describe modern things and the POV person is not aware they are vampires.

idk Dracula investigator reporter style- Thoughts?

anon you're such a genius for this1!!! THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE UGH I TWEAKED IT A BIT THOUGH W THE PERSPECTIVE PART I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND <33 (also this is not proofread)

A ball in this day and age is uncommon.

At first, Alfira was skeptical. Especially considering the party's hosts were famous for being---a rather eccentric couple. Inviting but strange at times. Dressing in garbs similar to the pictures Alfira has of her great great great grandmother, it was natural that they'd stick out like sore thumbs in high society. But with the pay proposed to her, Alfira could dare not decline playing her instrument at the party. Even more so when she realized how exclusive the party really was.

She'd been invited to stay at their obnoxiously large mansion alongside the other servants for the week preceding the event, and while the sensible decision would be to practice her piece, her naturally curious nature got the better of her. And now, she hides an entire notebook under her pillow regarding all the peculiar things about the couple.

'No. 1: They rarely show their face during the daytime. Perhaps they simply don't want to expose their skin without a concerning amount of sunscreen? Everyone online raves about how bad the sun is for your skin nowadays.

No. 2: The kitchen is completely off-limits to everyone but the head chef. It reeks anytime I go near it, so I don't mind.

No. 3: He calls them their consort. Weird. Is that considered affectionate with rich people?

No. 4: We're not allowed to take our mirrors outside of our rooms. This one I really don't understand.'

The list goes on for ages.

Alfira's observations are ones done from across rows of other recruits or servants, given how rare of an occasion it is to see either of them. Though, she's noted that where one is, the other isn't far away. They're practically attached at the hip, and even if she's a complete outsider, it's easy to tell how smitten they are for one another.

And with how well she was being treated (the food and rooms alike) under their care, Alfira began to feel a sort of guilt for suspecting so much. They surely didn't deserve such obsessive note-taking when all she could see was the way Astarion pecked your forehead before lending you his arm, only gentle laughter ringing in the air.

Perhaps the two of you were truly just a happy couple. A strange one, sure, but happy.

The day of the event comes in no time. Despite the lack of preparation, Alfira manages to play her main musical piece with minimal slip-ups, and continues to leisurely play as she watches all the wealthy guests. The ballroom bustles with people, and because she knows that she isn't acquainted with anyone here, her eyes are naturally drawn to a crowd in the center of the room where you and Astarion are greeting the guests. As usual, your arm is locked tightly with his.

In a room full of dresses and suits, the two of you still somehow manage to stick out. The intricate designs on your attire aren't all to blame, because Alfira swears she sees a sort of aura around the two of you.

It must be a trick of the light, though, surely.

When Alfira and the other musical hires begin to play a slow dance song, you eagerly pull your partner to the dance floor. The dance comes to easily to the two of you, eyes so loving as they're set on one another that Alfira nearly feels jealous. The other single guests seem to feel the same way as Astarion leans into your ear and grins with a whisper.

Alfira squints.

'No. 32,' she notes in her head. 'He has sharp teeth.'

Once the dance is over, she thinks her hand may very nearly fall off. But when she sees you and your partner approaching in her direction, the pain is immediately forgotten as she straightens her back, eyes wide when you offer her a smile.

"Alfira, right?"

"Y-yes! That's me."

"I apologize I couldn't greet you sooner," you place your free hand on Astarion's arm. "We were so swept up in the preparations we didn't get to welcome the truly important guests."

Alfira blinks. A guest? She's not a guest.

You huff. "You really do look just as I remembered you to be! Right, Astarion?"

"I don't particularly remember the bard from then to be frank, my love," he responds, as if Alfira isn't standing right in front of them.

'No. 33,' she notes again. 'He's kind of a jerk to anyone else.'

But more importantly, a bard? She's a musician! Not merely a wandering bar entertainer with a bloody lute and a corset to go along with it. It's even stranger that you seem so familiar with her, even though she's only first talking to you right now. Is she finally losing it?

"Sorry, have we met before?" Alfira blurts.

"Ah," you laugh. "Apologies for my informality. We have, but I doubt you'd remember."

What does that mean?

"Although it pains me to tear you away from such a fascinating conversation, my love, we should greet the others," Astarion chips in, and Alfira inwardly sighs in relief. "Good day, bard."

That damn word again--

As Astarion leads you away back toward the crowd with you pressed close to his side, he smiles down at you while you whisper something he finds humorous up to him. Alfira realizes she's never been that close to either of you, and fears she may have missed her chance---as strange as the encounter was.

However, she does notice one thing about the couple as you walk away.

Both loving sets of eyes are the same piercing shade of bloody red.

[mintsuwu]

please how did you come up with her design I've been trying to make a design for my poppy playtime oc but it always ends up looking like rubbish please give tips😭😭

Hello, thank you for asking! Truth be told is that it took me a bit to figure out how to do LoolaLamb in general, she didn't come out too well on the first try xD I had to tweak a couple of things in her like the hair, colors or snout.

Initially, I wasn't quite sure of what animal picking for her, but then I went with the lamb idea for a few reasons:

- When I was little, I used to have a lamb plush I used to love dearly. Sadly I don't have any pictures to show since I no longer have it with me so I tried to look for one that looked similar on the Internet- But that was the main inspiration for her character. And since the Smiling Critters have their own plushies as well, I thought it would be interesting to make one of them after a real toy. I also took reference from other characters in media that were based on sheeps, like in Pokémon (Flaaffy & Whimsicott).

I would always recommend using references if you ever don't know where to start with a design. And in the case of a Poppy Playtime OC, you can look for references if you desire as well, or even turn a beloved toy of yours into a character, anything works!

In many cultures, the lamb is a revered symbol of innocence, purity, and sacrifice. It is often associated with religious connotations, particularly in Christianity, where it symbolizes the embodiment of Christ's innocence and the sacrificial lamb offering redemption and atonement for humanity's sins. I simply liked the symbology of this because I'm always a sucker for that when it comes to creating characters;;

This was mainly due to lore reasons, her association with Catnap, a follower of an entity, the Prototype, whom he workships and would do anything to get its blessing. LoolaLamb "sacrified" her voice for the Prototype (well, it actually was that Catnap took away her voicebox with that excuse).

Her name "LoolaLamb" is a word play for "lullaby", given the role she was going to have in the Smiling Critters line, a replacement for Catnap who would have a similar role as his, except that instead of using a gas to make people fall asleep, she would use her voice. Sheeps and lambs are also heavily associated with sleep and dreams, given the advice: if you can't get to sleep, just “count sheep” until you drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Sheep are wanderers. It's their nature. Even in the best and safest of places, places that provide protection, water, and food, sheep are known to wander off, get lost, and sometimes eaten by predators.

Her color pick was mainly because even if the smiling critters have more or less the colors of the rainbow and there are already two blue colored critters (Bubba Bubbaphant being more of a neutral blue or azure and Craftycorn cyan or aquamarine), I noticed that there were no dark blue or indigo colored ones. My first idea for LoolaLamb was to give her more violet colors, given her correlation to Catnap, but at the same time I wanted her to stand out amongst the others, being a little more of her own character, so that´s why I ended up picking a different color pallete for her.

And those are pretty much the basic things I had in mind when creating LoolaLamb! Of course it doesn't always have to be so elaborated with all characters, but I'd always recommend to find references, information, symbolism, anything that might help you with the creation of your character in case you don't know where to start or are simply stuck!

I might not be the best when it comes to explaining things but I hope this has helped you and I wish you the best in your creative process, anon! 🙏🏻💖

[heartofjasmina]

Tw: dark content but god knows I love sharing with you

Im on a big bro! Lil sis kick and LORD

Big bro! Bakugo who acts like he just despises you until the two of you are alone together? Then he’s showering you with praise and telling you how good you are. Thanks lol

Hi emi! That is so valid of you lol, and I love this! I'm just a lil baby tho who can't handle anyone being mean to me especially not my big bro so I'm gonna tweak this a tiny bit hope you don't mind!

Your brother watched you flounce around school with a scowl permanently on his lips and a glare darkening his handsome features. You always greeted him with a smile in the hallways of your college and he blatantly ignored you.

When you were talking to the other kids in your group project in the campus square, when you were held back in the same gen ed class for the teacher to praise your hard work, didn't matter the scenario if you were in his sights?? He was giving you a death glare.

It made people think he hated you.

But you didn't mind at all. It didn't matter what he acted like when others were around, you know the real reason he was so grumpy you two went to the same school.

He couldn't claim you publically. No matter how much he fucked you like he owned you in private, you were technically a single young woman in the eyes of everyone at your school.

He hated seeing those losers vying for your attention, he hated how much everyone seemed to be in love with your kind and energetic personality.

You were his damnit.

But when you two were alone together, all you heard from your big brother was praise and encouragement.

"That's it sis, taking me so fucking well, good girl." Your pussy always welcomed him home like it was where he was meant to be, balls deep inside your wet heat.

"Need you brother, please," you whined, impatient as always for him to leave you breathless. You were still only 19, still so focused on feeling good that you hadn't learned the pleasure of taking things slow. But who was Bakugou to deny his little sisters pleas?

"If that's what you want sis, that's what you'll get." His voice was a deep rasp against your ear as he started to fuck you in earnest, bending you over his dorm bed without a moments hesitation (the real reason he requested a single dorm room).

"Cause my baby deserves all the cock she needs. Good girls get rewarded."

[k0yaz]

Can I request Kamisato Ayato with a mute!reader? I'd prefer the reader to be female and for this fic to be a one shot, fluff or smutt. You can do any tweaking and write the plot, I don't mind if you can't tho<3

love you just the same.

Pairings: kamisato ayato x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, mute reader, established marriage, envy mention, fluff, there’s literally nothing here, I like this, I’m gonna eat ur pet fish btw, uhm no way gex oh no, drinks the air cutely, holy shit I have no warnings for this one, I don’t care for ayato but I like writing for him yk, r u really silly ahshdhdb, not proofread.

A/N: welcome to the kamisato slumber party (I’m sorry I had to) 🕯️

The towering trees loomed over your figure, enveloping you in a long cast shadow rocking back and forth from the occasional gusts of gentle wind traversing in the clear sky. Glancing up, you squinted your eyes and shielded a hand atop your forehead, filtering the flooding rays of sunlight as it shone onto the earth. You held the porcelain cup between your fingers a bit tighter as the soft breeze of Inazuma whistled into your ears, making your mind wander blissfully amidst the comfortable silence.

Lacking the ability to speak has always seemed like a curse bestowed upon you by the gods. You had never understood why it was you who was subjected to the suffering of remaining silent while everyone around you chattered endlessly. You’d part your lips to speak, hoping for something—anything to push past your throat. However, that wish of yours was to no avail. With a hand to your chest, you’d frequently push past crowds of people, mind racing with a longing to speak as they did.

You believed you’d always fall short of others. That you would have nothing more than longing for your desire to be like those who surrounded you, while you were devoid of the ability to utter even a small sound. Or that was what you thought.

Until you had met your husband, Ayato.

His soothing voice was something you always yearned to hear, preferably over the voices of others who only struck shameful envy in you. However, Ayato had always been a kindhearted man, frequently understanding you and remaining patient as he took his time to understand your quirks. He had never once attempted to push you, nor had he harbored even the slightest bit of frustration whenever you had trouble communicating with him non-verbally. He would only let out a hum of understanding and nurture your hand between his, placing his palm atop your knuckles as his eyes locked onto yours and awaited for you to regain yourself patiently.

It was quite nice, really. Although you couldn’t say it, you cherished your time with him. Always huddling shoulder to shoulder affectionately in his embrace, as you felt as if you had the life that you’ve always wanted when you were in Ayato’s arms. Just by that, he could tell. He always understood your every signal, every cue, every gesture even.

You only let out a closed-mouth sigh as you reminisced upon every time your dear husband had been there for you through thick and thin. You adored every detail about him. His pale blue hair swaying through the wind, that gentle smile complimenting his pool-like eyes, the small mole briefly dotted below the corner of his lip…

You could go on and on about him honestly.

“Dear, I’ve brought some tea.”

A quiet, yet sharp voice called out to you from a distance, inching closer to you as your back rested against the smooth bark. Ayato made his way over to the spot you were sitting, lowering himself into the shade to cross his legs in seated position beside you. The cool tone of the shadows shrouded his face as he carefully set down the teapot, giving his complexion a sweet touch.

You flashed him a grateful smile, setting the porcelain cup down to wrap your fingers around the handle of the teapot. Ayato’s gaze simply followed your movements, as if he was carefully tracing each gesture like a hawk. The tea filled a little below the rim of the cup, clouds of steam drifting out of the hot beverage and vanishing into the air. You blew on it with a subtle breeze of wind from your lips, cooling down the tea as its steam wafted in the direction of your breath, the floral smell still present.

Ayato suddenly cleared his throat, extending an arm out to fumble through a pocket in his clothing. He seemed intent on finding it, fingers feeling up every portion as if he had hidden it quite well. You could only cock your head to the side slightly in response, feeling a blink of curiosity overtaking you, and thinking solely about what this might be.

“Here. Happy anniversary, darling. It may not be much but…I hope you do cherish it.”

Ayato suddenly cupped your face, palms angled against your cheeks as he positioned your head to come level to his chest. Slowly and carefully, he slid a small hairpin into the side of your hair, tangling the clip into your strands steadily. You leaned up to touch the pin, fingers ridging along the gold accents surrounding the center gem. And it didn’t take long for your heart to nearly burst from the fuzzy feeling you felt inside upon realizing…

It was your favorite precious stone.

Although you deeply yearned to verbally articulate how happy you were in this moment, how joyous he had always made you feel—you felt strangely content with not being able to express it. Ayato had understood and cared for you enough, knowing full well what you meant although you couldn’t say it. That was more than enough for you. He was everything you could ever ask for in this jealousy struck world.

His hands kept firm against your cheeks, continuing to cup them as he nearly squeezed them together. You swore he was resisting the urge to do that. Everything went quiet, and time stopped as he pressed his lips to your forehead, both of your eyelids lowering shut as you felt your heart flutter at your husband’s affectionate actions.

You would be together in every life. You knew that as a fact. And you prayed to the archons that in the life ahead of you, he’d love you just the same.

A/N: HOLY SHIT I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT UPLOAD EARLIER MY DRIVING LESSONS MADE ME MENTALLY SHUT DOWN AWHWHHEND BUT IM HERE NOW EVEN THOUGH IRS LIKW 3 AM ‼️‼️‼️

[asherbakugou]

Your First Kiss

Jiang Kai | Kai Kalama (She/They)

Reader was sat on the floor of her apartment, leaning back against Kai's legs as he flipped through channels on the tv. They had a new sketch due in two days, so they were hoping for inspiration.

The parameters for the project were pretty simple; primary color (red, yellow, blue), one accent color (gold or silver), and female model.

Above her, Kai suddenly leaned over them to look in their eyes, "What if you did something based of Azula? You know, from Avatar. She's got red and gold in her design doesn't she?"

Blinking, Reader turned it over in her mind before nodding. Focusing back on him, she was unsurprised to find his gaze on their lips. Doing their best to not let him know that they saw his gaze, they spoke, "That's good. She does have red, though its more maroon but I can tweak the colors a bit to fit the parameters. Thank you, Kai."

He flushed, leaning back as Reader fought to hide a wider smile. For nearly three months, since they'd begun hanging out, she'd noticed how his eyes constantly strayed to their lips or how focused he'd get whenever they spoke. It was sweet, and was defintely not helping their crush. So today, they decided to do something about it.

Later, after dinner, Kai was at the door preparing to leave. "Well, I guess I should leave a pretty person all alone in their apartment to work on their project." He winked making Reader laugh.

"Kai . . ." Reader trailed off, summoning all of their confidence. "Tell me if you don't want this."

"What–"

Cupping his face, Reader pulled him down a little as they reached up a bit to press a kiss against his lips. Their lips slotted together perfectly, fitting like puzzle pieces. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, as Kai had frozen in shock.

"Sorry. I thought–"

Kai interrupted her this time, slamming their lips back together as he pushed her against the wall beside the door, hands falling to their hips as Reader wrapped their arms around his neck to keep him close.

Reader couldn't help but notice that he tasted like cinnamon, likely from the gum he loved to chew on all the time. Kai noticed how Reader tasted like the fruity wine they'd had with dinner and nearly moaned at the taste.

Pulling away, but not pulling apart completely, he pressed their heads together. "So, can I take you on a date?"

"Time, date, and place?"

"Next Saturaday, 7, and you'll see."

"I'll see you then, Kalama," Reader teased, seperating. Kai obediantly stepped outside, reverantly touching his lips when the doors closed.

Zane Julien (She/Her)

Zane mediatated peacefully to the quiet sounds of Reader painting, her playlist, and the soft humming. He felt at peace in the whirlwind that was her studio, eventually opening his eyes to see what she was painting.

It was the Aurora Borealis, with a wolf pack tilting their heads back to howl in unison. He was amazed by the motion you'd managed to capture in the painting.

"It looks incredible," Zane complimented, startling Reader into nearly dropping her palette.

"Oh shit!" He was quick to catch it, much to her relief. "Oh thank the dragons. Thank you for the compliment, and the catch."

"Do not thank me, it was my fault for startling you."

"You still caught it for me. So I'm going to thank you. Thank you Zane," Reader stated, smiling as she took the palette back.

Zane smiled softly, starstruck as she turned back to the painting. Standing just behind her, he remembered something Nya had said he should do, based on his feelings and how Reader acted around him.

'Ask permission to kiss her, then take her on a date. But don't push her.'

"Reader," Zane said, quickly catching her attention. She turned to him, setting her pallette down to give him her full attention. "I have a question, but I do not wish for you to feel pressured."

"I wouldn't let myself he forced into anything," Reader agreed, tilting her head.

"Of course." Zane hesitated, stepping closer, flustering her. "May I . . . May I kiss you, Reader?"

Reader seemed to freeze, soft lips parting in surprise. After waiting for nearly thirty seconds, Zane was disappointed by the lack of answer but took it in stride. "I apologize, I did not—"

"Was my asking an issue?"

"No, no!" Reader interrupted, waving her hands around. "You don't need to apologize! I was just surprised! Promise! You're not normally so outspoken, so . . ."

"Just a surprise."

"You still have not answered the question," Zane noted, tilting his head slightly. Blushing, Reader ducked her head down in emberresment.

"I-yes. Yes, you can . . . you can kiss me," Reader whispered, standing a little taller as Zane stepped into their space.

Slowly he pressed their lips together, not wanting to rush and accidentally hurt her. The kiss was soft, chaste and made Reader pleasantly cold as Zane felt his core warm in pleasure. Pulling away, he found his own smile widening when he saw Reader looking at him with a wide smile of their own.

"May I take you out? On a date?"

"Y-yes! Yes!"

"Then tomorrow? At 7?"

"Perfect."

"I shall pick you up then," Zane decided, still smiling. Giggling Reader stepped into his space to sink into a hug.

"I can't wait."

Cole Brookstone (They/Them)

The stars were bright as Reader and Cole laid in a grassy meadow Cole had taken them too. Head resting on Cole's stomach, Reader had a surprisingly good view of Cole's reaction every time he spoke lowly, in order to keep the peace of course.

Tonight was Ninjagos Festival of Stars, recently adopted from the Serpentine but neither of them were fans of large crowds and wanted to see the stars and fireworks alone. So Reader had packed a nighttime picnic, with Cole hovering over their shoulder in anticipation.

Mooncakes, Star shaped iced cookies, and multiple blackberry flavored treats. They'd also brought along their starry night themed drink, with blueberries, bananas, and kiwi syrups to make it a stunning array of colors.

Cole had, of course, nearly devoured his portion in a half hour as Reader talked about their day, and some issues they'd noticed recently, eating far slower.

"So, what made you invite me out to watch the stars? Is it just 'cause ya knew I'd bring ya food?" Reader asked, without opening their eyes.

"What, no! All of the others wanted to go to the festival and celebrate, but I wasn't in the mood to celebrate. I'd rather hang out with you," Cole admitted.

"Really? Me? Mr. Ninja wants to hang out with an uninteresting civilian?"

"Your not uninteresting, which I'm not sure is a word by the way. Your just . . . You're normal, and I need that in my life. And you're fun in a different way."

"Well, thank you for the compliment. Any specific reason you don't like festivals? Or is it private?"

Cole knew that all he had to say was that it was private and he would drop it, but he wanted to share. "My mom used to take me out to festivals all the time when I was younger. She had a piggy bank specifically for those days that I could add change too. It was my money to use to do whatever I wanted with during the festival. When she died, I stopped going. It doesn't feel the same anymore."

Reader was silent, thinking. "When I lost my parents, I no longer thought it was worth it. To live. It took me three years to truly start enjoying the world and some days its still hard." Glancing up, they met eyes. "If you ever decided you want to try, I'd be happy to take you. We could make it a date."

"A date?" Cole sat up, worrying Reader who sat up as well.

"It doesn't . . . have to be a date. Not if you don't want it to be."

"Well, what if I want it to be a date?"

Reader smiled, leaning closer as their eyes flicked towards Cole's lips. "I'd like that."

Smiling softly, Cole and Reader leaned closer together until their lips were barely a centimeter apart. "Would you be upset if I kissed you?" Cole asked, trying to hide his nerves.

"Not at all."

Grinning, Cole eagerly pressed their lips together, twisting until he was hovering over Reader. Fingers wove into his black hair, tugging him closer to them as they made out beneath the stars.

Cole eventually forced himself to pull out of their hold, lips glistening and red as he panted. Reader was not much better, shirt having ridden up at some point. "Well . . . that was not what how I thought tonight would turn out," Cole admitted with a goofy grin.

Reader laughed, eyes bright. "So, we still on for that date?"

"Absolutely."

Jay Walker (She/her)

Lightning flashed across the sky, followed closely by the crack of thunder, making Reader groan. She and Jay were both caught in the rain, having been taking a short break from working on one of his older Mechs.

"Well, this sucks," Reader grumbled, huddling beneath the glass cover of a bus station as Jay watched the lightning sparking in the sky with a strange sort of awe and reverance. Nudging him, she broke the spell cast by the bright flashes. "Everything ok, sparky?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just, ehehe, get a little excited during thunderstorms," Jay explained, allowing a spark to flit through his fingers in demonstration.

"That's . . ." Reader trailed off as lightning struck again, highlighting the sharp angular, boyish features Jay had, bringing out his freckles and auburn hair. "That's pretty cool. Don't think I'll ever get used to people fighting with elements though."

"Seriously? You've hung out with Nya for years, how is it still so weird!"

"I don't know! It just is!"

"Maybe you're the weirdo."

"Huh," Reader gasped, as if truly offended. Grabbing their imaginary pearls, she draped herself across the bench. "To slay me with such cruel words, oh how I die. Must this be the way death comes for me."

Jay laughed, plopping down behind her so she could rest her head on his thighs. He smiled down at her, trying hard to keep his blush down, and failing miserably.

"You're turning pink," Reader mused, poking his cheek as her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Is it because you've fallen for my beauty?"

Jay felt his lips twitch downwards when he heard the sarcasm. He was far less oblivious than people thought and he'd realized a while back that Reader did not think themselves pretty. Just . . . Average.

"Would that . . . be bad?"

Readers smile fell as she stared up at him in shock, "Jay . . ."

"I really want to kiss you."

"Then do it."

Leaning down, she reached up, meeting him in the middle. Neither noticed how the lightning seemed to cover the sky, with barely a secons between the flashes. They were too focused on the press of their lips, on memorizing how the others face felt beneath their fingertips.

Pulling away, Reader giggled, quickly joined by Jay. Their was no real reason to laugh but she was happy and so was he.

"So when can I take you on a date, Mr. Blue Ninja?" Reader asked, laughing at the look he gave her.

"Hey! I'm supposed to ask you out!"

"Too late." He tried to sulk but another kiss had him relaxing into a giddy smile. "Fine. I'll go out on a date with you."

"I'll plan a good date, scouts honor."

"You've never been a scout!"

"Oops."

Lloyd Garmadon (She/her)

Reader was happily pressed against Lloyd's side as they walked, liking the comfort of his arm draped over her shoulder. They'd gone windowshopping in the nearby mall for her hour break and were finishing up to walk back, not that Rufus would mind all that much if she was a few minutes late.

"Ooh, look at that," Reader said, pointing to a shoe store. In the display window were Ninja-themed shoes, with Lloyd's being the most prominent.

Lloyd saw what she was looking at and groaned, cheeks flushing, "Please tell me you're not going to buy those. They're like 100$."

Reader pouted, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, "But I thought you liked seeing me in your merch?" She'd noticed it a few weeks ago when she'd worn a green ninja shirt, seen how wide his eyes had gotten and how stuttery and blushy he'd gotten.

Just like right now.

"Wh‐well, of course, but still . . ." Lloyd trailed off, looking away to hide his face.

Giggling, Reader patted his bicep, pleased at the feel of muscle beneath the long sleeved shirt he wore. "I'm kidding, sweets. They're cute, but too expensive for my taste. Besides, I'd look better in one of the Green Ninja sweaters that one store was selling."

Somehow, Lloyd's blush darkened as he whined, "Reader."

"Lloyd," Reader cooed, delighting even further in his blush.

Suddenly, looking past him she spotted Ryker, very obviously looking around for someone. In a heartbeat their eyes met and he started towards her, making her freak out slightly.

"Lloyd."

He immediatley caught the change in her voice and followed her eyes to see where she was looking. Seeing Ryker, he cussed and pulled her towards a hallway between stores to try and hide.

"He already saw me," Reader admitted nervously. Lloyd watched the entrance, tense, as Reader tried to think up a plan.

Grabbing his shirt, she tugged him close until he was pressing her against the wall. Gaping down at her, he seemed frozen in place.

"Trust me?" Reader asked softly, eyes wide. Lloyd nodded, softening marginally.

"Of course."

Leaning up, she pressed their lips together making Lloyd freeze for only a second before he leaned into it. He gently cupped her cheek, keeping the kiss soft and slow as her own hands found their way into soft golden-blond hair.

Neither noticed when Ryker found them, nor when he realized just who was kissing Reader. Furious the man turned away and fled, stomping away as they stayed pressed together.

"So, sweets, when do you plan on taking me out?" Reader asked, breathless. Lloyd stared down at her, emerald eyes alight with awe.

"Friday, at 6. We're going somewhere fancy," Lloyd decided, smiling widely.

Reader giggled, using her grip on his head to tug him back down into a kiss, "Sounds good to me."

Morro (She/Her)

Morro was passed out on Readers couch, sleeping off the inherent exhaustion that came from his longer missions. She was curled against the side pressed against the couch, watching a movie on low so she wouldn't wake him.

Head resting on his shoulder, with his arm loosely wrapped around her side she couldn't help but blush, thinking about what people would say if they saw their position. It was intimate, even for friends. Her face had been warm the entire time they'd been cuddling, though she hoped he hadn't noticed.

Sudden movement from the hand on her hip startled her, making her glance down. Morro was rubbing at the exposed skin of her hip bone with his thumb.

"This alright?" He asked, voice a low rasp from just waking.

"Yeah," Reader mumbled, pressing her face into his chest. "Just fine. Perfect."

He chuckled, embarresing her further. They fell back into silence, though Reader's mind was running a thousand miles an hour.

"Hey, Morro?"

"Hmmm."

"Do you–" She cut herself off to sit up a bit to look him in the face. Morro's eyes were half-lidded but attentive. "Can I take you out? On-on a date?"

Morro's eyes sprang open as he gaped in shock. Fearfully, Reader began stuttering, "B-but not, not if you don't want too! Of course you don't have to agree! Just asking!" She tried to push the tears in her eyes back as Morro sat up, without saying anything.

With a gentleness few thought he was capable of, Morro rested a large hand on her cheek, forcing her to meet his dark grey-green eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

At her shocked expression, he laughed.

"Y-yeah."

Still grinning smugly, he pressed their lips together, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her close. He barely let her come up for air before diving back in, like she was his air.

Finally he let them seperate, panting slightly, "I'm taking you out. Friday night, wear something you can walk in."

"O-okay." Eagerly she leaned back in for another kiss making his grin as he met her in the middle.

[rius-cave]

You've said from your lick.comic that Lucifer becomes attracted to Adam not long after and Adam is basically dealing with gay panic.

How long after that do they sleep together and how does it happen??

Ooohhh nonny

It wouldn't take too long after it. Hmmm, in fact, I have a comic planned down the line that fits very nicely as a continuation, I might tweak the script a bit to fit it better, so we'll see.

However that comic is gonna be kinda dub-cony and with some coercion so I'll propose an alternative if that's not your thing lol

After the events of that comic, Adam is effectively UNEASY around Lucifer. He can't even look him in the eye, he's actively avoiding him. He's apologized (begrudgingly) to Charlie and he's actually behaving well with the hotel gang.... Except when Lucifer is around. He gets pissy, short-fused, snappy, etc.

Lucifer meanwhile has the spark of attraction ignited inside of him, he looks at Adam with... Not uninterested eyes, but he has a much better hold of himself, he doesn't really act differently or is trying to seduce him further, it's just kind of in the back of his mind for now.

However he IS getting pissed off at Adam's attitude and how he's CLEARLY avoiding him. He briefly wonders if it's because he's just being a fucking brat.

This goes on for AT LEAST two weeks until Adam says something stupid and tries to flee from Lucifer's presence again and Lucifer is like "okay that's it".

Lucifer pulls Adam to a room with just the two of them alone and they have this discussion:

"okay, this is getting ridiculous. Fucking spill it."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about! Let me go already!"

"Not until you tell me what's got your panties in a twist. Come on it's been weeks."

"NOTHING! Goddammit-! This is fucking stupid!"

"Adam I'm not an idiot, please just-"

Lucifer tries to grab his arm but Adam flinches away from it.

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! YOU-!" he yells, loudly, and there's a very obvious blush on his face.

Lucifer looks at him, really looks at him, and then it all clicks for him.

"Holy shit, are you telling me-"

"IM NOT SAYING SHIT. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE."

"No fucking way," Lucifer's face starts breaking into a smile. "For real? That little teasing got to you this bad?"

"I DON'T-! NO! SHUT UP!"

"Ohoho, this is so rich! Who would've thought!" Lucifer smirks, getting closer to Adam and adopting a much more flirty demeanor. "That the so called Dickmaster would want a piece of lil ol me?"

"SHUT UP FREAK, OF COURSE I DO NOT!"

"Hey, no judgement here, you should've just told me you needed to get laid that badly instead of piss and moan for days. Really buddy, it would've made things so much easier."

"LIKE HELL IT WOULD! I don't want you near me! Get away from me!"

Lucifer cocks an eyebrow but doesn't flinch, he starts circling Adam, as if he was prey. Adam just follows his shadow, still trying to hold on to his little secret. When Lucifer speaks again, it seems to come from everywhere at once.

"If you insist, I'll leave you alone for now. But really Adam, you just say the word and I'll make you reach Heaven again. I'll make you see more stars than you ever knew existed. See more colors than there are in the rainbow."

Adam gulps, and he panics internally when he realizes that he's starting to get hard. However, Lucifer doesn't seem to notice because then he feels Lucifer squeezing his ass, eliciting a yelp from him, and then next thing he knows Lucifer is back at the door frame, all the tension in the room dissipating.

"My door's always open! Well then, pal! Hope ya get your shit together! Don't make daddy mad~" he adds that last part with a velvety tone, and then disappears.

"Fuck..."

Not a full 24 hrs pass before Adam is knocking quietly in Lucifer's door (his new temporary room in the hotel) and Lucifer greets him with a smirk. They close and lock the door behind them. The end.