#it started with big things but sometimes happens in response to small

[im-no-jedi]

In Need of Cuddles

I'm feeling the effects of the monthly blood curse and needed some comfort, so I wrote a little something to deal with that. and because it's Wednesday, I chose the bestest sweet boy Wrecker for that 🥰

this is super short and fluffy, no warnings except for an allusion to suffering from depression 💙 also in case it wasn't obvious, this takes place in the MLWTBBverse✨

___________________________________________________________

"Knock knock!"

Hannah's attention was drawn to her front door. The familiar, boisterous voice from behind it immediately drew a smile to her face.

"Can I come in??"

"Sure," Hannah replied with a giggle.

The front door slid open to reveal the massive visage of Wrecker, who stepped into the room with all the graniose he normally had. A bag was draped over one of his shoulders, and he held a smaller bag in his other hand.

"Clank asked me to bring these up to you!" Wrecker stated as he plopped the bags onto the kitchen counter. A few fruits tumbled out and rolled across the counter, but Wrecker quickly caught them before they went too far. "Hope this is enough groceries for ya!"

Hannah let out another giggle. "I'm sure it's fine. Thanks, Big Guy."

Wrecker grinned at her, then placed the caught fruits back into their respective bags. He was about to start rummaging through one of them to search for a snack he'd brought for himself, but paused just before his hand touched the bag.

Something wasn't right.

He hadn't given much thought to it at first, but Hannah hadn't moved from her spot on the couch since he'd come in. Normally, she would either come over and start unloading groceries right away, or she would give him a little welcome hug. As far as he knew, Hannah wasn't sick or hurt, but maybe he was wrong.

"You doin' ok, Hannah?" Wrecker gently asked.

Hannah gave him a clearly forced smile and replied, "oh, I'm fine. Just... tired today, that's all."

Wrecker's brow turned down. It wasn't unusual for Hannah to hide her true feelings, especially when she wasn't feeling well. And although it was frustrating to deal with, Wrecker knew that was just how she processed certain things. Luckily, he had a knack for picking up on others' emotions, so it wasn't too hard to suss out that she was holding something back.

"Ya sure?" Wrecker began to step closer to the couch. "Cause you're not acting right. To me, anyway."

Hannah let out a small sigh and shook her head. "Sometimes I forget how empathetic you are, Big Guy."

"That's the word that means you can feel other people's feelings, right?"

Hannah nodded with a small chuckle.

"I thought I felt somethin' off about you!" Wrecker came right up to Hannah and bend down closer to her. "You're not sick, are ya?"

Hannah shook her head in response.

"Are ya hurt?"

Hannah shook her head again.

"Did ya get in a fight with Hunter?"

Hannah once again shook her head, this time with a snicker.

"So... what's up then? You can tell me."

A grateful smile spread on Hannah's face, and her eyes began to well with emotion. She let out a shaky sigh before she spoke. "I'm just... do you ever just randomly get sad? Like, for no reason?"

Wrecker thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I only get sad if I see or think about somethin' sad. Like, sometimes when I think about losin' Lula or... ya know, when Kamino went..." He made a noise replicating an explosion and spread his hands out for emphasis.

"Yeah, same. But... sometimes I just... I get sad, and I don't even know why. And it makes my body tired, and I can't make myself do anything. It's kinda like being sick, but not."

"Sick with sadness?"

Hannah managed a laugh. "Kinda, yeah."

Although he didn't understand how such a thing could happen, Wrecker couldn't help but feel complete compassion for his dear friend.

"Aww, Hannah..." Wrecker sat down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry... is there anything I can do for ya?"

Immediately after touching her, Hannah's eyes began to well up more and a sniffle escaped her nose. "I don't know, I just... I'm just..."

As soon as the first cry came out of Hannah, Wrecker threw his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. "Aww, don't cry, Hannah! It's ok!"

Hannah's cries morphed into small sobs as she clung to Wrecker's massive figure. Her face buried into his chest, and her whole body shook as she cried. Wrecker could only hold her, firmly but gently, as he let her get her emotions out.

Eventually, Hannah's cries turned into just small sniffles, and Wrecker used that opportunity to offer her a tissue. He pet her head as she blew her nose, then moved his hand to gently rub her back.

"Ya feel better now?" he asked, still gentle as ever.

"A bit, yeah," Hannah answered with another sniffle. "Guess I just needed a good cry."

"And a good hug!"

Hannah let out one of her signature resounding laugh. "From you? Always."

At that, Wrecker pulled her in again, making more laughs come out of her. "Glad I could help! I hate seein' ya so sad!"

Hannah's arms tightly wrapped around Wrecker's waist, and she nuzzled into his chest once again. "You definitely helped. Thanks, Big Guy."

"Anything for you, Hannah!"

"You're too sweet," Hannah said with a giggle. She sighed and continued, "I think sometimes I just need some good ol' affection like this."

Wrecker let out a chuckle that rumbled through Hannah's whole body. "Well, whenever Hunter's not around to give ya some, I'll gladly give it to ya myself!"

Once again, Hannah let out a boisterous laugh, loud enough that even Wrecker could feel it. "And I'm perfectly fine with that!"

[popcorndispenser]

Hershel is actually the only character I've ever projected my dpdr onto. Idk, it fits him really well imo. Des' PTSD gives him uncontrollable fits of anger, Layton's makes him dissociate.

For those uninitiated:

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

CHAPTER II - Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Previous chapter: [x] Word Count: 3.4k+ words (unedited). Genre/other tags: Angst with some fluff. Jealousy. Fem pronouns used. Warnings: Swearing. Self-deprecation. Manipulation (on Alastor's part).

It had been nearly over a week since you and Lucifer last talked – it had also been a week since Lucifer was last seen around in the hotel. Angel, being the gossiper he was, relayed everything that had transpired between you two to the others the following day. Seeing the sensitive and sad shell of a person you were left in, everyone remained cautious and had started walking on eggshells around you. Of course, you were quick to pick up on that, as embarrassing as it all was (minus Alastor, who continued on with his usual theatrics and mischief). 

Charlie in particular was the most concerned out of them all, since this was her dad we were talking about. She knew with certainty that he was confining himself in the castle to distract himself from what happened – likely something involving his rubber-ducky obsession – instead of facing the problem head on. It was his pride that sometimes got in the way of his better judgement.

Not only that, but Charlie clearly saw the massive toll it took on you. If you weren’t distracting yourself with work or doing something related to the hotel, you would lock yourself away in your room, only coming out to quickly grab a bite to eat from the kitchen. Charlie even made efforts to strike many conversations with you from time to time, but was either excused or was only given one-worded responses. She knew not to take your dismissive behaviour to heart, but she couldn’t help but fret over you.  

So it came as an absolute surprise when out of nowhere, Charlie received a call from her father. She messily scrambled for her phone on her desk, fumbling and nearly dropping it in the process before violently tapping on the small screen. “H-Hello?! Dad, hey!” She answers a bit too enthusiastically while nervously combing her hair with a free hand. “Uh, hey Charlie!” Lucifer stiffly greets from the other line, “I just…um, thought I’d give a call to, uh, see how everyone’s going at the hotel!” The Princess noted how much hoarser his voice was than usual, but decided not to comment on it aloud. 

“Well, y’know how it is! It’s been busy and lively as always–everyone’s been working really hard and all,” she answers vaguely, nervously chuckling. “Err, yeah! Right. That’s a–that’s a relief to hear. Yep,” he hums. There was a brief, awkward pause that ensued soon after, the both of them not knowing what to say next. The whole exchange was becoming increasingly painful that Charlie resisted the urge to pull her hair. She then clears her throat. “H-How about you, dad? What’ve you been up to? You’ve been gone for a couple or so days,” Charlie finally musters, “are…are you doing alright?” 

“Me? Oh yeah, psh! I just got, erm…a lot of things going on at the moment. It’s not so easy being the big boss of hell after all! Got a lot of important things to do! Plus, I’ve got heaps of paperwork to do for the hotel. You should know how tedious that is,” He says, adding an exaggerated groan. 

The princess furrows her brows. “Oh, that’s…strange. ’Cause I could’ve sworn you left all the papers here…y’know, the ones you told me to revise over?” Charlie replies, side-eyeing the said documents stacked neatly on her desk. A startled yelp escapes his throat. “O-Oh...did I?” He stammers.

Charlie couldn’t help but wince at the evident panic that began to set in as she listened to her father make incomprehensible noises from the other line. It was a poor attempt in reasoning, which ultimately became useless in the end. Lucifer let out a long sigh, caught red-handed. “Oh, who the hell am I kidding? You guys probably already know what happened–which by the way, Charlie, you shouldn’t be lying to me about!” He pointedly remarks. 

“I-I’m sorry, dad! It’s just…I’m really worried about you,” she reasons, before shortly adding, “...The both of you.” 

There was a small pause. “...How is she, by the way?” He then asks quietly. Charlie nervously tugs her bottom lip with her fangs. “Well, she’s keeping herself busy. Constantly, as a matter of fact. And I know she’s trying hard to convince us all that she’s holding up okay, but…she doesn’t look too good, dad. She seems really upset.”

A shaky exhale sounded from his end. “I…I really am hopeless, aren’t I?” He mumbles defeatedly. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could picture him burying his face in his hands. The image caused Charlie’s eyes to soften. “Dad, no. It’s not too late. You still have a chance to make things right,” Charlie gently encourages through the speaker, “you just need to talk to each other–”

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, a bright, blazing portal manifests from thin air – from it, emerges Lucifer himself who appeared extremely dishevelled, effectively catching Charlie off guard. 

“But, hun, y-you don’t understand! I messed up big time!” He exclaims, tugging on his unkempt hair as he aimlessly paced around her office. “I-I mean, look at me! I’m a fucking mess and a coward! Why would she ever think to take me back after what I did!?” He chuckles humourlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “I-It’s like no matter how many times I try to redeem and convince myself that everything’s finally going right in my life, I just continue to fuck myself over and over again. And it’s just– ugh! It’s pathetic! I’m fucking pathetic!” 

Charlie’s chest tightened considerably as she watched her father self-destruct before her. Strands of his golden hair were sticking out here and there, his dress-shirt tousled, and his eyes were glossed over and red, from both a lack of sleep and crying. He looked utterly devastated. Chucking her phone away, she immediately sped towards and enveloped Lucifer in her arms, who immediately broke down into heavy sobs. Seeing him like this brought tears to her own eyes, but she firmly told herself to be the stronger person in this situation, for his sake. 

“Hey, hey. Dad, listen to me, okay? Everyone deserves a second chance. You of all people should know–you were the one who taught me that, remember?” Charlie rubbed his back soothingly, trying to ease the jumpiness of his shoulders. “And that also applies to you. I…I know you’ve been through a lot, especially with mum…” She couldn’t help the way her frown deepened as she spoke, “...and I miss her too. I miss her a lot. But…I think it’s finally time for you to move on. It’s been years, dad. You deserve to be happy and you’re allowed to be in love again.” 

“[Name]’s an amazing person, and there’s no doubt about that. She’s proved that more than many times already. I’m certain that once things ease over and you guys finally talk things through, everything will turn out okay; she’s very understanding and kind like that. You’ll both be okay.” Charlie gently pulls Lucifer away and with the sleeve of her blazer, she wipes his damp, reddened cheeks. “I know for a fact that she loves and cares about you deeply – we can all see it as clear as day. You…you love her too, don’t you, dad?” 

For a brief moment’s contemplation, Lucifer suddenly recalled the times you spent together, from your initial meeting to now. He had always thought you were a strong and independent soul, with the way you carried yourself. You just had something about you that naturally drew in those around you, including himself. When Lucifer got to know you in a deeper level, he was enthralled by how kind and understanding you were – you were always there to listen to his many tales and endless nonsense; you would always seem genuinely interested in his rubber-duck-esque inventions, offering some input and critiquing his creations; and you would always be so, so supportive of all his plans and ideas, no matter how extraordinary they all seemed.

If he hadn't known any better, Lucifer would've thought you were an actual angel. You were the saviour that wore off the darkness in troubling times, and the one who pulled him out of the void that Lilith had left him in. That and more, as you continuously gave him a real reason to remain hopeful. You were proof personified, that he was able to open his heart once more, and to love again.

“I-I do, I really do,” Lucifer affirms in a heartbeat. Charlie smiles warmly, relieved by his answer, “then that’s all you need to say.” At that moment, Lucifer's chest swelled in overwhelming pride for his daughter, knowing that despite not being as present in her life until recently, she grew up to be the good and strong-willed person he had hoped for.

“O-Oh, jeez. Since when did you grow up so big? I should be the one comforting you,” He tearfully jokes, sniffling whilst returning her smile, “but thank you, Charlie. Really. I’m…I-I really am grateful to call you my daughter.” The two royalties then shared a heart-felt moment and a bone-crushing hug, with the King's heart being filled with a new-found determination. Because, just as he always says: The show must go on. 

Earlier on:

On the other side of the building, you were drowning yourself in your own self-despair as you overlooked the balcony by the front entrance of the hotel. Your eyes lazily scanned the new hotel patrons below, who were engaging in some trust exercises led by Vaggie, who came in to cover you just moments ago. Every once in a while, you couldn’t help but glance at your phone, silently hoping to receive some sort of notification from Lucifer, or even an inkling of his whereabouts. But you received nothing, which only fuelled your growing anxiety.

You felt awful leaving the way you did that night, especially after dumping so much onto Lucifer. You felt like you were being completely selfish, and had cornered him into making a big decision. And because of that, your relationship was on the line. You let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing angrily at your face.

Little did you know however, that you had some company lurking nearby, watching you in silent amusement. 

“Now, don’t you look as miserable as ever?” Alastor mockingly chimes in, stepping out from the shadows to make his presence known and joins you by the balcony. You roll your eyes at the deer-demon before turning your head the other direction. “Yeah, and what about it?” You scoff, leaning in to rest your arms against the rails, “Can’t you go bother someone else, Alastor? I’m certainly not in the mood right now.”  

“Why, I wouldn’t be a good hotelier if I left a dear co-worker of mine so down in the slumps!” To your dismay, Alastor reappears in front of you, obstructing your field of view, "And might I add, it's not healthy for you to be all cooped up in your room all the time – stay there any longer, and it can do silly, little things to your head!" He emphasises his point as he spins a finger in a circular motion by his temple. You shot him an irritated look, slowly growing fed up by his prodding. 

"Listen, I don't need you telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I’m more than capable of deciding that on my own,” you growl, straightening up to cross your arms firmly against your chest. “Hm...no, I don’t think so!” Alastor hums, shaking his head disapprovingly, “The unfortunate affair that took place in your courtship with the King has left you in such a vulnerable, and problematic state. And I’m sure you’ve taken note of how everyone’s been acting around you – constantly walking on their tiptoes in fear of setting you off on a hissy-fit. You’ve caused them to worry a lot about you, dear. Poor ol’ Charlie, especially.” 

You open your mouth to retort back, but nothing came out. A strong pang of guilt struck you as his words began to sink in. Seeing this, Alastor’s grin widened a faction as he stepped forward and levelled himself with you, now facing you eye-to-eye. “And as the executive producer of this fine establishment, might I critique that your behaviour is affecting our team’s morale and performance…and we mustn’t have that now, should we? Especially not since we’ve all been more preoccupied recently with our guests!” He…had a fair point, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t…know…” Your voice began to trail off, shoulders slumping in realisation of how selfish and contemptuous you’ve been acting this whole week. You recalled the fretful expressions of your friends and your dismissive attitude towards them. “I-I didn’t mean to make everyone worry…” you quietly say. Alastor’s words only made you feel immensely worse about the whole situation, leaving you sniffling on the spot. 

“Now, now. As long as you realise your mistakes, then you shall be forgiven,” he coos, softly patting the tuft of your head. At that, you couldn’t help but send a doubtful glance his way. “W-wait a minute…why do you care all of a sudden? What exactly are you playing at?” You suspiciously question as you rub at your eyes. 

“Oh, how you wound me, dear! Why must you always question any act of kindness I display? Is it really that hard to believe?” He adverts, evidently feigning hurt. You deadpan. “Yes, it is,” you reply almost instantly. Alastor chortles at your bluntness, “Haha! You’re quite a work of art, aren't you, dear? Now, let’s go out for a walk, shall we?” 

Before you could’ve processed what he had said, Alastor had already spun you around, pulling you with him as you both headed down a flight of stairs. “Wha–Alastor, where are we–where the heck are you taking me?” You asked, trying to keep up with his long strides so as to not trip down the stairs. “Hm? Did I not already specify? It looks like your brooding has impacted your hearing, dear. That’s a shame,” he slyly comments, now dragging you towards the entrance, “We’re both going for a walk around town, it’ll help clear that cloudy head of yours!” 

“Hold on-Stop! Just what makes you think I’d agree to go out with you?” You shoot back, retracting your arm from his hold and stopping metres behind him. Alastor sharply turns around and pulls out a wrinkled, yellow piece of paper out of thin air. Your eyes dart towards the sheet, seeing a familiar hand-writing across the page. 

“Why, I just knew you were going to question me – you're so predictable. But might I add, we’re not going out without purpose! No, no! Our lovely Charlie has composed a list and requested we fetch a couple items in town!” Stepping forward, you swiftly snatched the paper from his clawed hand and briefly scanned the list, noting that it largely consisted of decorations and party items. “She wanted to organise a heart-warming celebration for the wayward souls here who have accomplished some milestones on their journey to redemption! An anniversary ceremony of sorts, if you will,” Alastor explains, lightly patting the non-existing dust off of his suit.

“But couldn’t you just…I don’t know, teleport the things here?” You blatantly ask, raising a brow at him. You knew he was more than capable of doing such minuscule tasks within a span of seconds. “And waste such a beautiful day outside? Now, why would I even consider doing that?” Alastor states matter-of-factly, “And like I said, the short trip will help clear your troubled mind! Consider it a gesture of compassion from yours truly.” 

There was clearly something off about all this but you couldn’t see any reason for an ulterior motive. It was just…simply a manager looking out for the well-being of his work-colleagues, as uncharacteristic and off-putting as it sounded out loud. Already exhausted, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to question his actions any further.

“You’re really not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, are you?” You ask. Seeing the way Alastor’s grin widened had you sighing in defeat. “Shall we then?” Alastor questions, offering an arm out to you. Rolling your eyes, you loop one of your arms through and follow him out the hotel. ‘A small walk wouldn’t hurt…’ you think to yourself as the doors shut behind you. 

Currently:

Lucifer tiredly dragged himself to his designated room in the hotel, to rest for a while and take a much needed bath as per Charlie’s advice. He gave himself a lengthy pep-talk in front of the mirror as he brushed his teeth, deciding to approach you tonight to finally talk and clear things out. Yes, he was absolutely terrified about the possibility of things going south during the confrontation, but he didn’t think he could handle another second being without you. And he needed to make that loud and clear. 

After putting on an outfit and neatly slicking his hair back, Lucifer looked at his reflection once more in the bedside mirror, inspecting himself up and down to flatten any remaining creases of his clothing. But it wasn't until his gaze landed on his left hand that he tensed up. Peering down, he brought his hand into view to inspect the very wedding band that caused it all. With a shaky sigh, Lucifer slowly pulled the ring off of his finger. He took a moment to examine it, eyes filled with sentiment before kneeling down to open his bedside drawer, where its designated ring-box sat. The moment he encased the ring in its box and locked it away in his drawer, it felt like a breath of fresh air. To his own surprise, Lucifer found himself tearfully laughing – he felt...genuinely happy. Proud, even. It was at this very moment that he felt like he was finally ready to move forward.

After patting the stray tears away from his face, Lucifer slowly made his way down to the front lobby. There, Charlie and Vaggie were talking amongst themselves by the lounge area, whilst Angel and Cherri chuckled away by the bar, with Husk tending to their beverages. The King didn’t give an inkling of care as to where Alastor had gone, and he was certain that Nifty was hiding somewhere in the small crevices of the hotel, cleaning away. All in all, there was no sight of you whatsoever, visibly disappointing him. 

Seeing his approaching form, Charlie waved his father over towards them. “Hey, dad. Are you feeling a bit better now?” She asks with a comforting smile. “Yeah, totally. Thanks, dear,” he says, patting her shoulder affectionately before turning his attention towards her partner. “Hey! How’s it going, Maggie? I’ve heard you’ve been working real hard lately, huh? Good on yah!” He commends, playfully nudging the said demon. “Oh, um…it’s–it’s Vaggie, sir. And uh, thanks,” she nervously chuckles, rubbing her arm. “Mhm, yeah…that’s–that’s great,” Lucifer distractedly hums, all the while scanning around the room. Noticing this, Vaggie shared a worried look with Charlie. 

“Erm, dad, she’s not here at the moment if that’s what you’re wondering,” Charlie starts, alerting her father. “Oh? Well, is she up in one of the guest rooms?” Lucifer asked, gesturing upstairs with a thumb. To his confusion, Charlie appeared somewhat nervous, her hands fidgeting with her suit. “Uh, no, she’s actually not in the hotel at the moment,” Vaggie steps in, “she’s been out doing a couple of errands for us.” Lucifer raised a brow at the slight edginess in her tone, eyes darting back and forth between the two girls. “...Um, alright. What the heck is going on right now?" He asks, pointing an accusatory finger at them both, "You guys are acting sketchy as fuck. Are you...are you guys hiding something from me?" He narrows his eyes. Charlie sucks in a breath, brows pinching together, “Well...dad, t-the thing is–” 

“She’s out with Smiles right now!” Angel suddenly intervened, calling out from the other side of the room, and causing Charlie to cower and duck behind Vaggie. Lucifer felt his shoulders grow rigid. “She’s…what now?” He dangerously asks, glaring at the arachnid. Before Lucifer trudged towards the direction of the bar, the front doors of the hotel abruptly flew open. He felt the vein in his neck nearly burst at the sound of your laughter interlacing itself with that god-awful, irritating radio feedback. What a wild coincidence.

As Lucifer turned around, his eyes nearly flew out of his head as he saw how close you were with Alastor, arms basically locked together. The radio-demon was quick to meet eyes with the King, and out of spite, Alastor flashed him the biggest shit-eating grin he's ever seen.

“Oh, fuck no!”

Chapter III - Finale [x]

Thank you for reading!

[regal-rosebuds]

ꔫHow to Voluntarily Age Regress

ꔫHi all! I wanted to post this, but I can't call it as much a "guide" as I usually would, since it is purely my anecdotal experience!

ꔫNonetheless, I hope this is helpful to you in your endeavors!

ꔫTypically, when I am trying to regress, I start with age dreaming! This comes with a number of things, maybe it's:

Watching cartoons or another piece of media that I find comforting or that I've found puts me in the space

Coloring a picture or doing worksheets

Babytalking with my cgs, babysitters or other in-community friends

^Asking my cgs/babysitters to care for me as if I am already regressed

^^Generally interacting with other littles or friends I find comforting

Scrolling agere tags on here or ingesting other agere content

Using little gear like pacis, bottles, etc.

Playing with toys or playing video games that I've found put me in the space

Listening to a playlist that one of my cgs made me

Writing agere headcanons or making content of my ocs who regress

Daydreaming about agere outings, playdates, etc.

Going shopping and looking at toys

Cuddling, holding hands, getting my hair pet, etc.

ꔫThis is just a short list of things I've put together, there's a lot more that could be done, especially since it's extremely individual! This is just what works for me!

ꔫFrom there, I try to maintain this comforting and safe space by not taking on any work/responsibilities or really anything else not suitable for my small age.

ꔫAnd, it’s not like it’s a 100% success rate either! Sometimes, I’m just not feeling it; sometimes, I just continue age dreaming for the rest of the night! For me, you can’t really force it — it’s okay if it does happen, it’s okay if it doesn’t!

ꔫSome other helpful things:

I find it much easier to slip when I’m tired.

You might feel kinda silly being big and trying to do your small things, but that’s okay!

It’s not just a switch one can flip, so don’t be frustrated if it doesn’t come easily!

It’s different for everyone — for some people it comes really easily, for some people not so easily. Some people need to do a specific set of things and have a specific set of conditions to regress. Going further:

Not everyone can voluntarily regress, and that’s okay, but there’s no harm in trying it out!

ꔫWhile this isn’t as educational as my other posts, I still hope that you are able to find it helpful!

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

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Masterlist

[crishayle]

Part of Fortune in the houses

Part of Fortune is a point of happiness in your natal chart. It is on it that you can see where and how to look for your luck. For a more accurate interpretation of this placement, please see the sign and aspects of your Fortune.

Part of Fortune in the 1st house:

Your luck lies in your independence. If you need to make a decision, don't listen to anyone. You really attract good luck when you are in full control and accept your life. Luck turns away from you when you start to envy others or compare yourself and your successes with someone else.What is the secret of luck? In independence, focus only on your life and yourself. It is important to learn to appreciate your desires and not put them below others.

Part of Fortune in the 2nd house:

Your luck lies in finding a balance between material and spiritual values. When you focus only on one thing, you may notice how your resources are being cut off in this area.What is the secret of luck? In the ability to be content with the small and enjoy the big. Appreciate every little victory you have. Keep a balance between the material and the spiritual.Think about your career, but don't forget to text to friends and family :)

Part of Fortune in the 3rd house:

Your luck lies in communicating with other people. I don't know if you believe in fate or not, but I do. I have repeatedly met people with Fortune in the 3rd house who said that talking to other people radically changed something in their lives for the better. Simply put, share your thoughts and ideas with your friends. You will definitely find inspiration!What is the secret of luck? In communication with other people. Also, the 3rd house is responsible for thinking, so most often such people can really attract positive/negative into their lives with just the power of thought. Don't be afraid to discuss your ideas and motivate yourself more and then everything will work out :)

Part of Fortune in the 4th house:

Your luck lies in caring and kindness. Here the rule "give and get twice as much" applies. Luck can turn away from you because of greed, avarice and evil. Also a little advice from a man with Fortune in the 4th house:clean the house more often so that more things, food and money come to the house. What is the secret of luck? In generosity, care and kindness. This person always gets his good back because of the boomerang effect.

Part of Fortune in the 5th house:

Your luck lies in creativity. Stop, I know that everywhere the 5th house is associated only with creativity, but please read on. Creativity in the broadest sense of the word is the ability of a person to create something of his own. It may not be related to art. I have friends with Fortune in the 5th house who have opened their own business or those who are engaged in science. In general, these people create something unique of their own. What is the secret of luck? In creating something unique. Such people achieve success when they reveal their abilities and are not afraid to be themselves. Don't be shy, try and experiment.

Part of Fortune in the 6th house:

Your luck lies in your health. One of the coolest placements.Of course, human health needs to be looked at throughout the natal chart, but whatever you get infected with, you will recover. This is one of the indicators of strong immunity, physical endurance, successful operations, and sometimes longevity. What is the secret of luck? In human health and his ability to wait. The 6th house is responsible for discipline and patience. For such a person, success in his career or personal life may come later than he expects, but it will definitely be worth it.By the way, try to create your own ritual or good luck charm.

Part of Fortune in the 7th house:

Your luck lies in other people.No kidding, career successes and other good things start to happen when you work in a team. Some of my friends with Fortune in the 7th house, thanks to friends, found a good house at a bargain price or had an internship at their favorite company. What is the secret of luck? People nowadays are the most important resource. Communicate more and get to know people. The 7th house in astrology also represents the soul mate. If Venus and the Moon are also in good placements in your natal chart, then Part of Fortune in the 7th house can speak of a happy marriage:)

Part of Fortune in the 8th house:

Your luck lies in the risk. You know, the case when a person doesn't need to do anything to find good luck. The catch is that he gets lucky only at the VERY LAST MOMENT. At the same time, people with placements in the 8th house feel their karma very subtly. Do not be arrogant and do not use your luck for selfish purposes.What is the secret of luck? In the ability to appreciate the gifts of fate. For example, I have a friend with Fortune in the 8th house who complained that he could not buy a new iPhone (although his current phone worked fine) and it was stolen the next day. Fortune in the 8th house is really cool (I'm a little jealous even), just always appreciate what you have and then get 2 times more.

Part of Fortune in the 9th house:

Your luck lies in curiosity. The 9th house is the ability to know the world. People with Fortune in the 9th house can successfully change their profession, get a second higher education or fly to another company for an internship. You have endless potential, so being in the comfort zone only moves luck away from you.What is the secret of luck? In change and curiosity. I understand that sometimes it's scary to leave your comfort zone, but Fortune in the 9th house even encourages mistakes. Luck seems to be trying to teach and add more life experience to a person with this placement.

Part of Fortune in the 10th house:

Your luck lies in discipline and patience. I have not yet met a single person with Fortune in the 10th house who would just be so lucky. These people achieve a successful career or a happy relationship as if climbing a mountain.What is the secret of luck? In diligence and patience. Every time the hope leaves you that all your labors are in vain, remember that you have already passed half the way and the rest is quite a bit. The 10th house is a very long time house in astrology. Yes, it takes a lot of time, but after all, luck will be with you for a long time as well. Saturn (the planet of the 10th house) is very fair!

Part of Fortune in the 11th house:

Your luck lies in the development of spiritual skills. It is very important to keep order in your head. I noticed that such people tend to attract events with words and their thoughts. It is important to maintain a balance between heart and mind.What is the secret of luck? In balance. The 11th house is actually not as crazy as many people think. As soon as a person with this placement finds inner peace and realizes what is really important to him in life, luck begins to patronize him. Listen to your heart and be friends with your mind and everything will be fine :)

Part of Fortune in the 12th house:

Your luck lies in the secret. It's like you're lucky while no one is watching. The very case when you don't need to talk about your plans and dreams to people and then everything will come true. A little more advice:listen to the signs of fate. If the other placements of Fortune achieve success through people, time, karma, self-development, then you are lucky alone.What is the secret of luck? Happiness loves silence. Don't brag and don't share your plans.Less words, more action and everything will work out :)

You can write what questions about the Part of Fortune you are concerned about. I plan to write 2 more very interesting articles about it, so wait :)

[writella]

The Confession

Synopsis: Confessions shared with the wrong person gone so sinfully right.

Details: rick grimes x reader, afab!reader, smut—masturbation, unprotected sex, riding, both rick and reader being desperate in the dark. I made the exact reason for the confession and occasion very vague. 18+, wc: 2.6k. Proof read, but there might be some errors.

A/N: Not sure how much I like this one, but I had this idea back in early October and I wanted to finish it and give you guys something after a whole month.

I miss you, I’m sorry. Hope you’re all well!! With love from writella. ♡

Your voice is solemn and heavy as you sigh before starting, “I don’t do this very often,” you say, “I hope this is okay.” Your eyes lowering shamefully as you stop. It’s only the first sentence and you’re finding it hard to continue. It’s almost as if there are needles piercing into your throat. “I just feel so embarrassed,” you admit.

Then you pause.

No response from him comes after.

Only silence fills the dark and hallow space of the wooden confession box. Only your thoughts, every creak you made on the built-in bench, and the light wind that rustled from the cracked door were heard.

You wait a second longer.

Hoping.

But still, nothing.

Part of you was suspecting that Gabriel would have been more inviting, telling you it’s okay; and doing so with his kind and gentle voice, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t doing anything it seemed. You only saw the silhouette of his face when you walked inside— the outline of a nose and mouth, really. He seemed to be sitting as far from the small barred window as he could, but you didn’t dare look again. You didn’t even turn on the light fixture in the corner. Your fear was all too big, and his unwavering quietness made it worse.

Maybe you had come at the wrong time, maybe you interrupted him. You almost wanted to ask. But maybe confessions happened in complete silence… you didn’t know anymore, but at this point, you were hoping so. You had already wasted five minutes and managed only one sentence. Perhaps he heard the fear in your voice and was just trying to be a good listener… yes, maybe, you pretend as you urged yourself to start again:

You breathe in sharply, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The words come out in an uneasy, hushed whisper. “It happens a lot and I know it’s wrong. And you’re probably going to look at me differently after this, but I have to tell someone so I can stop.”

Your eyes screw shut, the next phrase coming out jumbled and continuous as you try to explain yourself quickly: “I’ve journaled about it and told myself it’s wrong but it’s not helping.” You start to weep, almost laughing at yourself, “I feel so stupid.”

You sigh and you almost think you hear him do so too, but you keep going.

“I’ve been thinking about someone,” you finally say. “For a long time. And I know it’s bad, I know it, but I do it anyway. It's all I think about.”

Another pause.

You catch your breath.

You wait.

But nothing.

So, you start again.

“I think I love him sometimes.” And if you couldn’t get any more timid, your cheeks flush, and your voice grows quieter, “I like his hair, and his eyes, those button-downs he always wears…” you smile at yourself, these were silly things, “Even his beard.”

And then you hear him shuffle, and a light sound is emitted.

It startles you, but silence ensues again thereafter. Maybe you imagined it.

“I like his kindness too. People would usually say strong or giving, but that’s what I like to tell him— that he’s kind. I think he’s kinder than other people give him credit for. He’s just protective. Everyone, and especially himself, we put a lot of pressure on him to make the hard decisions, but, really…” and there it is, “that's not the only way I think about him. There are things–” your throat tightens again– “ things that I think about. And things that I do.” Your eyes screw tight as you force yourself to say it, “I touch myself.”

Another bout of silence comes before the question.

One you’d never suspect.

“Can you describe it?” The voice asks, dark and curious.

The cool spring air of the night turns cold, but it adds no relief to the summer heat that burns in your heart as it begins to beat painfully. The texture in his voice, the inflection at the end that lined the sentence as a request, it rings through one ear and out the other and back again in a cycle.

You knew who it was.

“What?” You shriek so lightly as if playing dumb would help you now. He knew who you were talking about, you made it so desperately obvious.

“Can you,” he repeats steadily, “describe it?”

“I… shouldn’t.”

“What other better time could there be?” You can’t tell if he truly means it. His voice remains firm and lets out no hints of his true intentions, but despite doubt, you start anyway. He’s right after all, you’re in here because there hasn’t been a better time.

“I- I start by touching up my thighs, trailing up slowly… I always get so nervous… I never do it fast because I know I shouldn’t do it while thinking about you- about him,” you correct yourself, squeezing your thighs together, your hands gripping the bench tightly.

“But you do it anyway.”

“I do,” you reply meekly.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I can't.”

“What happens when you finally reach all the way up?”

“Gotta touch myself.”

He puts his hands on his knees, making sure his voice stays leveled. “Where do you start?”

“Rubbing my clit.”

“Do it.”

And then you do. You truly can’t help it. Your fingers slide down your hips to the front of your heat, chilly fingers pressing up against your lips over your underwear.

He hears the little sigh as you finally allow your finger to reach your clit in between.

“How does it feel?”

“My fingers are cold right now, so,” a quick breathy laugh leaves you, “ good, really good.” You rub your fingers in slow circles, but your hand and hips jerk, forcing you to speed up, but you try, try to not seem so pathetic to yourself as if there was any attempt at going back now.

His voice’s a slight strain as he asks, “And what do you think about?” He starts to rub his thighs, feeling his cock stir to the side of his jeans, making the material feel tighter than it truly was. His fingers trail closer, knuckles brushing against his erection. He’s pretending like he can stop himself too. “What does he do in your head, sweetheart?”

“He watches,” you say as your movements speed up again. You really can’t help it now, his voice edges you on. Your hand goes under the band of your underwear, fingers collecting wetness below to bring up to your clit, “He’s standing at the edge of the bed,” you tell him, “he’s unbuttoning his shirt, and then he starts taking off his belt… He’s smiling.”

If only you knew that hearing how bad you wanted him was making him do the same thing on the other side.

You’re panting now, one foot comes up to the bench as you slide yourself over to press your back into the corner of the wall, your head tilting back as well, using the assistance to grind into your hand. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“That's cause are.” He’s lowered his pants now and takes his cock out from under his boxers. Your words make his mouth gape and his eyes close as he begins to stroke himself. “You really are.”

His smile fades as he bites down on his lip lightly. You’re so needy for him and so desperate to admit it. It makes him feel powerful. Almost God-like, despite you both starring as the other’s tempter. So sweet and sinful the sounds you’re making are. How could he not give in? How could he not make you wet for him even at church and stroke his cock as it happens? You’re making it so easy with every whine and little moan you try to withhold. He could hear you getting restless, but he wants to make you want it more, “Keep goin’,” he tells you. “What’s happening now?”

“I put two fingers in,” you whine, “not big enough. Never enough.”

You let your two fingers stay inside you as you press your palm down on your pussy, rubbing your clit with the underside of your hand. You stop for a moment to take off your pants and underwear entirely, discarding it on the floor before you return to your spot. You put one leg up on the bench as you continue to finger yourself.

“I want him so bad.”

“How bad, sweetheart? What would you let him do?”

“Anything, Rick.” You say it louder than you intend, you’re losing yourself. “Anything for him.”

“Anything?”

“Everything.”

After that only nonsense comes out, simple sounds of desire and pleads. It was becoming too much to talk.

Rick felt the same. His hand on his shaft made quick and short movements, his lips parted and pink, more red on the bottom than the top from when bit his lip again at the words anything and everything for him. He repeated it in his mind, listening to your sweet little whines in the present. His head tilts so far back that it bangs on the wooden wall and he hisses.

It reminds him to compose himself.

Even after you let out another moan of his name, and he swears he could almost hear just how wet you are now, the squish of your fingers going in and out, louder and louder.

He swallows hard and takes a breath before he says, “What if I say I want you in here right now?”

That’s when your movements completely stop. You can hear the wind swirling again. You were speechless.

He turns to the netted window. You two can’t see each other but you know he’s looking. “C’mere.” He says slowly. “Now.”

And after that, your body takes control. Swift and instantaneous you move from your door to his, shutting it hard. You don’t even take a moment to look at him, it was too dark anyway, and that’s not what mattered. You’ve already dreamed of his curls, and the pierce of his blue eyes. You knew what he looked like. It’s time to know how he felt.

Rick takes off his shoes and fully lowers and discards his pants. Before he could even consider his shirt, you’re on top of him. You’re kissing his face, your lips and tongue missing his lips by just a little, but it doesn’t matter.

You begin to rock, your wet pussy making the length of his cock and thigh slick before it's even inside of you. You couldn’t help yourself and it makes him laugh, all cocky and proud. Something that you’d cross your arms to, even quip back at in any other situation but right now, it’s so fucking hot.

His hands latch onto your hips, his legs slide back to hit the wall. He raises your frame and you grab him. Your sticky fingers lace around his dick and then you both lower yourself down onto him.

You try to bottom out fast, but his nails dig into you, slowing you down. Your face reaches back with a pout and a whine as he says, “Wait,” even after he’s inside of you.

Your pussy quakes around him. You’re both trying to hold it together, but he’s faring much better than you.

His hand holds your jaw, thumbs caressing your cheeks and a tear falls from your eye, all the sensations becoming too much.

His eyes trail the sight as it rolls down and he tells you, “You’re right. I do think you’re beautiful.”

And he kisses you. Tongue slipping past your lips just as quickly as they depart, going to whisper in your ear: “Go on now,” he smiles, “show me everything.”

You begin to rock against him instantly. Initiating the kiss this time, your tongue slips into his mouth but his goes on top of yours. He grabs the back of your neck, deepening it, and you continue to take charge below as you ride him.

You squeeze around his cock tightly with every movement forward and you hear a strangled groan come out of him as his dick twitches at the sensation.

It makes you moan so loudly, you could wake somebody up.

But it doesn't matter.

You could even come right now just from feeling him inside you for the first time.

And it doesn’t matter.

“I've wanted you for so long, Rick!” You tell him.

He’s all that matters.

“You’ve got me.” He tells you breathlessly, kissing down your neck with his hand tugging on your hair. “You always could’ve.”

Now you know you’re all that matters too.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes closed, and mouth open for each pretty sigh and slight hiss that come out as he bites and kisses.

His hands lower to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it off. You start to undo the buttons on his too.

It’s fast and rushed and messy, but now your chests can meet. You press into him. Your hips are rocking hard. Your clit meets his pelvic bone making you whine and moan again. “Really good,” you say.

Rick’s hands slide to grab your ass, helping you go faster until they rise to your hips again. His thumbs press into the crevice of your hips and legs and he starts to bounce you on him.

You grip onto his arms, assisting him in his efforts. Your eyes are still closed, you’re smiling— already in a state of bliss, yet relishing in the fact that he was pushing you further and further into the dream-like feeling that was to come: your orgasm was close, and the string of airy moans made it evident to you both.

The way his hands move to caress your waist, trail up your back, roll over your arms, and back down again feels like gliding on ice. You felt him everywhere.

“Come on,” he tells you.

“I'm trying, I want to.”

“I know,” he affirms. He takes hold of your upper arms, letting his hands slide down to yours that tightly gripped his biceps and placed them on his shoulders.

You bounce yourself down on him harder, switching it up to rock on him and give your clit attention, then repeat it again.

Once you’re back to bouncing Rick takes one hand on your hip, helping you go faster while the other rubs your clit as vigorously as he can.

Your mouth is open wide, pants and squirms, and pleads coming out wildly. You almost feel like you’re making the whole box jump along with you as you bounce, and bounce, and bounce, and then… there it is: you shout his name and he speaks back to you, you both come together and ride out your high.

A glow emits as you smile, your head crashing into his as you catch your breath.

Then a noise erupts.

The church door closes.

Steps become louder and louder until they reach the open confession box door.

Rick puts his finger to your lips, silently quieting you both. Your eyes are owl wide knowing what the person in the next section would find in there. You almost squirm but Rick slots his finger into your mouth to stop it. “Quiet,” he mouths as the person next to you drops the wet garments they just touched, almost running out of the place as fast as they could.

You lower your face to his shoulder. Embarrassed, you sigh, “What are we gonna do now?”

Rick is unfazed: “Well,” he starts, picking you up by the hips, securing your legs as you wrap them around him, “we could do this one more time.”

He locks the church door and then walks you down the aisle and onto the podium, placing you gently on the ground. He’s standing above you. Just like it all your daydreams.

It was his turn now.

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x Seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

You're eating breakfast peaceful (are you?) and Heaven is a big mess

In pieces

Chapter 1 < Chapter 2> Chapter 3

Heaven was a big mess. 

Nothing new. 

Since you’re gone Emily feels all the pressure that was on you. All your responsibility was handed to her like a silver tablet with no refund. 

It was exhausting. And it didn’t help that Sera was also a big mess. 

She never left Emily’s side, almost like a guard dog. 

She lost her daughter because of her dirty little lies. And is scared that Emily would leave her too.

The arch angels aren’t pleased for her doing. She’s not God.

Her Image now like a Hurricanes aftermath.

No one wants to deal with her not even her own daughter Emily. 

Emily was very distant towards Sera. She doesn’t want to be near her, not after what she has done.

Your Mother sent Emily away when you fell. 

She couldn’t be there for you. She wasn’t there when the most painful thing happened to you. 

She felt ashamed, like a failure. 

You always protect her from the vicious laws of heaven. Sometimes even taking her punishments to protect her. 

And when you needed her the most, she wasn’t there. 

She can’t deny that it’s probably her fault that you fell. Taking all her misleads and getting you into trouble after trouble.

So that she can be safe. 

Talking back towards Sera in the court was the final straw. 

Sera could’ve talked to them, but she didn’t. 

She agreed because of her Image. 

To Sera’s surprise, the upper angels weren’t Impressed.

It didn't help at all.

Not even the winners want to talk with her anymore.

…

Lucifer couldn’t believe his eyes. 

You were awake! 

But not in the state he’d hoped. You were covered in your own blood and the floor was all a mess.  Ceramic was soaked in with the golden color of your blood. 

“What happened?” You didn’t answer. 

Somehow, he knew you wouldn’t answer. Falling from heaven can be quite traumatizing. He talks out of experience.

You couldn’t even keep your wings like he did, the pain must be unbearable. You were definitely not used having no wings anymore. 

You were hiding behind a Blanket, Lucifer found it quite cute and adorable how you were hiding from him. 

But it also hurt him.

Ache.

“Are you hurt?” Lucifer asked you, not wanting to scare you away. You slowly peaked above the blanket. You have to say he is quite handsome. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” 

The handsome man looked at you and sighed. “I helped you when you fell out of heaven. You’ve been out for a couple of days. I can help you, please let me help.” 

“Why?” Your mere whispers made his heart squeeze. 

He couldn’t find an answer to your question. 

Was he helping you because he knows how it is? 

To get thrown out of your home, getting ripped apart from the elders. Family not even sparing a glance at you. But there was something else why, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I know how you feel, let me help you.” You nod, you don’t have anything to lose. 

You already fell from heaven and live now in hell. Getting thrown right infront of the bus. 

Letting the Blanket fall from your back showing the man your fresh back wound. 

“Again, the back?” He chuckled, “By the way, the name’s Lucifer.” The name rang in your ear. “The Lucifer?” your voice is kind of soar. 

He snapped his fingers and with a sparkling sound a cup of water formed infront of you. Muttering a small thanks, you grabbed the cup pf water and let it slide down your throat. You hummed in approval. 

“I’m Y/n.” His hands hover over your back and he pulled the ceramic pieces slowly out of your back.

“That’s a beautiful name, Y/n.” Your name out of his mouth felt like sweet caramel. You wanted him to say your name again and again.

You smiled a bit and winced at him removing the splinters. After he pulled the last pieces out, he hovered his hand again over your back.

This time his hands started to glow in gold. His hands radiant heat, it was like a warm summer breeze. 

After a while the feeling stopped, you turned around to take a look at Lucifer. 

“You’re Lucifer?” He nods but didn’t look you in the eyes, he felt ashamed somehow. “Indeed I am.” He finally looks back at you and you beamed a smile at him. 

“You don’t look creepy at all.” That surprised him and he blushed slightly at your sudden forwardness. 

“You should rest. We’re going to talk tomorrow.” He patted your head and walked towards the exit. Giving you a final smile, he went back to his couch. 

You sighed and laid down on the lightly soaked blooded mattress. “I should at least try to sleep.”

…

You didn’t sleep well that night. 

Your back was still hurting even after the treatment Lucifer gave you. 

The blood still sticked on your skin making it quite uncomfortable to stand up. You have to take a shower.

The red Sun lighted the room red. A quick reminder that you indeed are in hell. In comparison to heaven was Hell rather cozy. It was warm and more colorful, even though the colors are very vibrant or dark. 

It was exciting. 

It’s been so long since you felt that kind of Emotions. 

Everything in heaven was the same. You must do the same and be like everyone else. You have to work 24/7, and work 9 to 5 or even worse. Not even a single break, not even for you a Seraphim. 

You worked over night almost every day for your Mother Sera. It pained you when you saw her chilling the while day and Emily flying and playing around heaven. It is your responsibility as the bigger Sister. 

Well, was to be exact.

A knock echoed through the silent chamber making you snap out of your thoughts.

A couple seconds later Lucifer came through the door. Peering inside to see if you’re awake.

“I made you some pancakes.” Lucifer nudges his sharp clawed finger into the direction of the kitchen. 

On a table you see a plate with pancakes, Ice cream and a cup of hot chocolate. He sat down on the mattress. 

His pants started to soak in the semi fresh golden blood. He shrieked and sat up looking at his pants. 

“Are you still bleeding?” He franticly searched for any Injuries on your back. “I’m fine. It’s just the blood that spilled on the bed. Sorry for that.” He let out a sigh of relief, “Let me change the Mattress.” 

He held out a hand for you to take. With hesitation you took his clawed hand. With a pull he pushed you upwards, you gasp at how fast he was moving you. 

Your legs felt like jelly, your head started to spin, and it started to get dizzy. He held you tight before you could fell. “I got you.”

Without any second thought Lucifer carried you towards the kitchen. Your cheeks redden at this behavior. 

His touch was striking you like a lightning bolt. It was a warm comforting feeling. His Arm around your waist left a tingling almost sparkling feeling. The feeling almost made you smile like a fool. 

“Thanks.” It was a mere whisper, but Lucifer heard it very clear. The weird feeling on his arm was distracting him immense, though your voice brought him back out of his thoughts. And he smiled.

Lucifer realized how long he was actually holding your waist. Retrieving his Arm rather quickly he coughed out of distraction.  “Just sit over there.”

“Lucifer?” He hummed and looked at you, the way he chewed the food made you giggle slightly.

You smelled pretty bad. You didn’t want to ask him if you could take a shower, but you have to take a shower. His gentle gaze took your worries away and made her ten times more nervous. 

“Can I take a shower?” Lucifer nods hesitant. “Of course, you can.” He laid down his food and took your hands and walked slowly towards his bathroom. 

… Time skip…

The Shower was very relaxing, even though it was kind of creepy to know that Lucifer was waiting behind the door. 

The food was hellish good, heaven could never. 

In heaven it all tasted the same, very blunt and no emotions in it.  

Lucifer took your plate and cramped his sleeves up to wash your plate. You followed his swift movements and how smooth he washes them. 

It amazed you somehow, washing dishes isn’t something Interesting but how he washes them is just different. 

Then you saw it, his mark. Suspicious Identical like yours. Please no. 

Somewhere in Heaven:

Sera sat Infront of a U-shaped table looking up at none other than the arch Angels themselves. “Sera.” A rather deep voice said making her jolt in her seat.

“Michael.”

A/n: I know this chapter is kind of boring but trust me. It’s going to be good.

[erwinsvow]

𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

summary: you're obedient to rafe, and he's starting to realize how much he likes that.

word count: 1.2k

now spinning: cruel world by lana del rey

author's note/warning: rafe does things to you with his gun. this might be dark!rafe which is just.. rafe <3

Rafe gets a thrill when you’re obedient to him without him having to do or say anything at all.

It starts off small. Holding onto your wrist for a second too long. When he does that, you turn around to look at him. Then it becomes a habit, looking back at him for permission to walk away, to leave. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before he lets you go. It’s been so long, so many months and so many kisses, you worry he’s upset with you if you don’t receive it.

He’s conditioned you, in his own little way. Everyone notices it. His father tells him to treat a nice girl like you better. His friends laugh about it when you’re not there. He used to laugh too, but now he doesn’t, and he gives anyone who still mentions it a glare. 

Because this is his new high, and he doesn’t have to chase it, doesn’t have to pay for it. You’re devoted to him, and it’s getting worse and worse. He begins to wonder how far you’ll go, how much you’ll stretch the boundaries of right and wrong for him. 

He’d promised to leave you out of it, out of everything that’s going on, but his own curiosity got the best of him.

You’re lying in his bed, half-asleep and completely fucked out the first time he asks you. Sometimes he’s a totally different person with you, soft and gentle, and sometimes he’s more like himself. 

“If someone wanted to hurt me,” he starts, chin resting on the top of your head and hand tucked safely with yours, “what would you do?” 

“Hm?” you moan sleepily against his chest. You’re out of it, he knows because he’s the reason why, but he really wants an answer. Rafe gives your cheek a little slap, demeaning, the way he knows you like. Your eyes jump open.

“You heard me, kid. What would you do?”

“I-” you start, and then stop. You’re thinking about what to say. He doesn’t interrupt, because he knows you're using your little brain to figure out what answer he wants to hear. 

“Hm?” he repeats, mocking. You don’t notice.

“I would do whatever it took to make sure you were okay,” you say, pressing your hand flat against his chest, right over his heart. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The next time is a few months later. You’re still clueless, maybe a little less than before, but if you know something, you don’t admit it. He’s been testy with you, he knows, but you’re relentless in your mission to make sure the two of you are okay—that he’s still okay.

He’s pacing in his bedroom, running a hand over his buzzed hair, while you sit on his bed with your legs hanging off, watching silently. If you’re thinking anything, you don’t say it. His gun rests against his back, tucked into the waistband.

For a second his shirt lifts, and you stare at the black metal with big eyes. He catches you looking and you shift your gaze in a second, without him saying a word. So obedient, even when you’re scared.

“Rafey?” you ask quietly. “What’s going on?” He turns in an instant, squatting down before your legs, hands gripping your knees.

“What’s going on? What’s going on is that it’s happening. Remember when I asked you what you’d do if someone tried to hurt me? Remember?” and you nod fervently. “Well it’s happening now, kid.”

“Someone’s trying to hurt you?”

“Everyone’s trying to hurt me.”

“Not me, Rafe, not me,” and you sit up straighter, pressing your hands against his arms and holding on tightly. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know that, baby, I know. But I have to protect you, protect us both.” You know how Rafe gets sometimes. He worries too much, you’ve finally decided upon, that was it. The reason he was like this, he just worried too much, about protecting you and doing right by his family, his father. He had too much going on, too much responsibility for one person. That was your way of justifying everything. Your boyfriend didn’t do anything wrong, he never did.

“You will. I know you will, you always do, you always protect me.” There’s your obedience again, clicking in and telling him everything he wants to hear. The best part is that he knows you mean it. 

“That’s right, kid. I do.” He takes the gun from behind his shirt, brandishing it before you. If you’re scared, you don’t react at all. You look at him with your big, wet eyes and your thudding heart like you’d do anything if he asked. Pick up the gun and shoot someone yourself if he wanted. It makes his dick hard just thinking about it. “I have to use this, sometimes, to do it. To make sure no one can hurt you. That’s just how it is.” 

You move gingerly, clasping your hand around his and the gun, eyes locked on his own the whole time.

“I know. I know you’re doing it for the right reasons.” The two of you stay silent like that for another few moments, before your quiet voice fills the space again. “Rafe, no matter what you did, I would never blame you.” Your head shakes a little like you don’t understand what you’re saying. “I would never leave you. I would never hurt you.”

“I have to use it, baby, I don’t have a choice. Y’know these people, they don’t listen, no one, you have to show them you’re serious, and this, this is how serious I am.”

“I know,” you repeat, eyes fluttering between the gun and Rafe, back and forth. 

You’re looking at him like this because you like how he’s talking. The serious, scary way he means every word he’s saying, that he would kill to protect you, hurt someone else to make sure you’re okay. It doesn’t make you scared, it makes you fall deeper in love. Someone willing to risk everything for you. You want to prove that you would do anything for him too.

“I knew you’d understand,” he says, eyes fixed on the way you’re running your tongue over your lips, biting the button while you stare at his fingers wrapped around the grip. 

He’s a little surprised, but still, not quite fazed, when you end up squirming in his arms not even ten minutes later. Your skirt pulled up and panties kicked aside, your pretty new shirt ripped down the middle to free your tits in the easiest way possible. 

Rafe has one hand squeezing your tits and the other balancing the gun, holding it in place while he fucks it in and out of your cunt. He knew you were obedient, but even this is beyond his imagination. When you finally come, the wetness from your cunt shining on the black of his handpiece, he makes a show of licking it off. 

You’re his now in every way, even if you ever change your mind. You know you won’t.

[channiesgirlie]

Jongseob as your boyfriend! ★꩜

[small scenarios of what i think dating jongseob would be like solely based on my deluluness and the way he acts/his vibes in general]

[only fluff so go ahead everyone!]

whenever you guys go out, either on dates or just small outings, both of you agreed to always have matching outfits or jewellery on. its just small things like wearing the same coloured tops ,the same necklaces or similar sneakers but it brings joy to both of you. bonus points when this happens without you guys checking in with each other, you both just walk out the door in a hurry and notice you have matching hoodies on.

jongseob is the type of boyfriend that is constantly looking to be near you. to satisfy his cute clingy behaviour he always makes sure you guys are holding hands. walking around on the street? holding hands. sitting down taking a break at a p1h photo shoot? hands interlocked. he just can't stay away from you for too long. always fidgeting with your hands in his, almost idly, while having a conversation with his members.

seobie has this thing he started doing ever since your relationship began, whenever you hair is in your face he will take the strands and tuck them behind your ear, its a habit at this point, he does it without thinking sometimes and you just look up at him without resisting cause why would you? he looks so cute doing it with a small smile on his face.

whenever you're on your phone not really paying attention to what he's saying, jongseob will make you look at him by grabbing your chin in a gentle manner, you get all flustered and always make fun of him by comparing him to a kdrama oppa.

ever since you started dating jongseob you haven't lifted a finger, this man is obsessed with carrying things for you. oh you just got a delivery in the mail? he'll carry it up to your apartment. oh your purse is too heavy tonight? he'll carry it on his shoulder, no shame. oh you opted to take your leftovers home? he'll take the bag from you in no time. he's just such a gentleman when it comes to things like these.

one of the main reasons you even started dating him was because you noticed something in jongseob you don't usually see in most people his age. he's just so emotionally mature. setting and respecting boundaries, emotional control in any situation, always so empathetic towards everyone around him, never afraid to embrace his emotions and feelings, he's so responsible and hardworking always striving to be the best version of himself. you still are so grateful and proud of him for all of it.

seobie is just such a sweetheart his favourite thing to do when you don't expect it is to hug you from behind, he leans his head on your shoulder and just stays there, enjoying your warm body against his. you absolutely love when he does this, you can feel his love for you radiating through his chest. its always a small surprise but such a meaningful one.

jongseob might just be your biggest fan. always supporting you in everything you do, always ready to help in any way possible. sometimes it's emotional support you need most and he's the absolute best at it, accidentally pouring his heart out about his feelings and thoughts about you whenever he feels like you need to hear it.

he is so focused on you when you're together, he must make sure you're always comfy. from giving you his hoodie so you're not cold anymore to sharing the last sandwich he brought on set with you just because you mentioned you were a bit hungry. always making sure to take care of you, this is his favourite way of showing affection.

late night walks! his favourite activity to do with you especially when he brings his camera and snaps pictures of you and everything around. you both enjoy the quiet streets, crisp air and dim lighting, makes both of you feel so at peace. its a perfect way to wind down before going to sleep.

talking about rest, seob loves cuddling you before falling asleep, usually he starts off as the big spoon but eventually turns you around, facing you so he can scratch little circles on your back and you can play with his hair (which he loves soo much), he hugs you so tight but as he slowly drifts away and his breathing slows down his grip on you loosens.

usually in more casual situations jongseob will make you sit on his lap. he just loves putting his arms around you and holding onto you. it makes him feel like he is offering you the most comfortable spot to sit, which you really enjoy, it really make you feel secure and you've almost gotten used to just sitting on him whenever you have the chance (and it's appropriate ofc).

whenever you accompany p1h to schedules that consist of a lot of waiting around, you typically find jongseob braiding and playing with your hair. its really entertaining to him and you always appreciate how gentle he is to not pull on it.

[that's it for now! i hope you enjoyed all these delulu scenarios. if you want more, or perhaps this but about another member just let me know!! anyway here's your delulu pills 💊💊💊 byee]

[steddieas-shegoes]

falling is easy, catching is hard

rated m | also on ao3 cw: recreational drug use, implied sexual content tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, shotgunning, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sidekick-hero!!! Sandy, you deserve the world, but this 3000 word thing will have to do for now 💖

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

December 19, 1985

Steve Harrington needed sleep.

Eddie Munson had the only thing that would put him to sleep.

But Eddie Munson also held a grudge, a reasonable one, but an annoying one.

“You want me to sell you the last of my good shit? For half price?” Eddie snorted. “You’re out of your damn mind, Harrington.”

“Munson, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Steve begged.

“Why would I do you any favors? You never did me any.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response from Steve.

Steve didn’t have one.

Eddie was right; He didn’t really deserve a favor from someone who had let his friends make his first senior year absolutely miserable.

But Robin’s voice looped in his head: “Be vulnerable sometimes, Steve. People may surprise you.”

“Listen man, I just really need to sleep, alright? I’ve tried everything else.” Steve sighed. “This is pretty much my last hope.”

Which was a truth and a lie. He’d already tried smoking some weed, knew that it worked.

Eddie’s forehead creased in the middle.

That’s kinda cute, Steve thought to himself before shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by big, brown eyes and shiny lips.

“You been to a doctor?” Eddie asked.

“The sleeping pills make them worse.”

“Make what worse?” Eddie pushed.

“The nightmares.”

Eddie nodded once, understanding flitting across his face as he relaxed his arms by his sides.

“How long you been havin’ them?” Eddie asked as he walked around to the bench at the picnic table, opening his lunchbox.

“I guess…technically years. They’ve been worse since July though.” Steve knew he had to be careful about what he said, couldn’t give away more than what the public knew about what happened at the mall, but Eddie seemed trustworthy enough to handle this part. “Doctors said it’s normal for trauma or whatever.”

Eddie nodded, whispered something under his breath, and shuffled through his box.

“Forgot you worked at the mall over the summer. Kinda crazy what happened,” he said as he pulled a small discolored plastic bag from the box. “I’ll make you a one-time only deal, Stevie.”

Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, kicked at the dirt under his feet, and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“I’m not giving my product away for half price. I’m a businessman and that’s not a smart financial decision for my business.” Eddie held up a hand when Steve looked like he was going to argue. “But! I will share a joint with you right here, right now, for free.”

“Um. What?”

“I was gonna smoke this one tonight as a celebration for passing all my first semester finals by the skin of my teeth. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Eddie’s smirk made the butterflies even worse.

Steve was going to regret this.

God, he was so stupid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Smoking with Eddie the first time was nice, but the second, and third, and fourth times were even better.

— — — — — — —

January 16, 1986

“You’re late, Stevie. I was starting to worry you’d gotten frostbite.” Eddie’s smile warmed Steve from the inside out, the shiver wracking his body more to do with the growing fondness he had for the curly-haired man in front of him.

Eddie was bundled up like they were in Antarctica, and to be fair, it was below freezing outside right now.

Steve offered to meet somewhere else, but Eddie insisted they come to his usual spot.

And then Steve saw it: Eddie had built them a fire. It was small, he probably didn’t want to draw any attention from the road, but it was throwing heat that Steve craved.

“Come warm up before we get into it,” Eddie waved him over, his gloved hands looking out of place.

Steve was used to seeing shiny rings on his fingers, blisters on his fingertips from playing too much guitar.

Steve stood next to him in front of the fire, holding his own gloved hands out to try to warm his body as much as possible.

“Any reason I couldn’t just come to your house or something?” Steve asked, not quite getting rid of the attitude in his tone.

“My Uncle has tonight off. He’s a pretty chill guy, but I think actively watching me sell drugs to someone would maybe cause a heart attack.” Eddie sighed. “I told him I had a date tonight so I couldn’t really have you show up after that.”

“A date?” Steve grinned, nudging Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t even bring flowers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked away to cover a blush. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out until there’s a dozen roses in my hand.”

He meant it as a joke surely, but something in Steve’s chest clenched at the thought of spoiling Eddie like that. Maybe not roses, that didn’t quite seem his style.

“I’ll try to remember them next time,” Steve managed to say, nearly choking on his own words.

What was he even doing? Flirting? Eddie didn’t even consider him a real friend, why would he want him to bring him flowers?

“Got a new strain tonight. It’s supposed to be a little stronger, but fades faster, so you should be good to drive back home in a couple hours.” Eddie pulled the baggie out of his pocket, lunchbox long gone after meeting twice a week for the last month.

Steve wasn’t really a customer anymore, no matter how they tried to keep up appearances that he was.

He still tipped Eddie, or tried to, but usually Eddie ignored it and just said it was a favor to help him sleep.

“How strong?” Steve finally asked as Eddie pulled the lighter from his pocket.

“Might make you a little floatier than usual. Not hallucinogenic, though.” Eddie knew he couldn’t handle that kind of trip. That’s why he stayed away from his other offerings. “I tested it out myself earlier this week.”

Steve wasn’t reading into that.

“Okay.” He fought off a shiver, this time from actually being cold. “Guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll drive you home if it’s too much.” Eddie’s offer was kind, going above and beyond what a dealer would do for a customer, but Steve wasn’t reading into it. “Or you can nap it off in the van for an hour or so before heading home. Whatever.”

Eddie lit the joint, breathing in long and slow, holding the smoke until Steve was sure he would pass out before slowly letting it out.

He handed the roll to Steve, who didn’t think about what Eddie meant by stronger, and took his normal pull, choking halfway through.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he took the joint from him, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s arm as he coughed.

“Jesus Christ, man, you good?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “Sorry. It is a lot stronger.”

Eddie searched his face, relaxing as Steve’s breathing went back to normal. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe take it slower?” Eddie teased. “Or- no never mind.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, already feeling the heaviness that came with smoking.

“Ever shotgunned before?”

Steve’s heart stopped. He’d venture to say he was even stone cold sober again after that question.

“Um. No.” He hadn’t. He’d wanted to with Nancy, figured it would be the only way she would be interested in trying weed, but it never worked out. “Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Usually. We can give it a try if you want.”

Steve nodded before he really processed what he was being offered.

Eddie’s mouth would be very, very close to his. Possibly even on his.

And he’d be sharing breath with him, probably more than one if it worked.

Eddie pulled the picnic table closer to the fire and sat on the bench. He patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well get comfy, then,” Eddie said.

Steve sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his side, close enough to hear Eddie’s hitched breath when they made contact.

Close enough to want to be closer.

“Alright, so I’ll start with a small one, and you just have to breathe in when I breathe out.”

“Is it-” Steve played with a loose thread on his gloves. “Your lips are gonna touch mine?”

Eddie suddenly looked nervous, like he regretted offering this at all, and Steve couldn’t allow that.

“I don’t mind! I mean, I want you to!” Steve panicked. “Like, it’s fine! I know we have to for the whole thing to work.”

“Yeah. Um, it’s not like, weird or anything. It’s just me helping you get high.”

It wasn’t weird, but it definitely was hot.

Eddie took a drag, leaned into Steve’s space, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for easier access.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

But he had to, that was the whole fucking point of doing this.

His lips parted and Eddie’s warmth coated him, covered him better than the fire.

He breathed in as Eddie breathed out, his hand seeking contact with anything solid to keep him on this earth.

He found it in Eddie’s hip, his fingers gripping tight as Eddie lingered beyond the point of the smoke clearing from his mouth to Steve’s.

Their lips brushed lightly, an agonizingly soft touch that Steve tried his best not to chase as it drifted away.

He bit back a whine at the loss, opening his eyes to see Eddie still surprisingly close, pupils huge.

It’s just the weed, Steve thought to himself.

It definitely wasn’t their almost-kiss.

Steve breathed out, swallowing once the smoke was gone from his mouth.

“Good?” Eddie asked.

Steve should answer him, should nod and thank him for doing this, maybe ask him for another hit so he could try to blame his fidgeting on being high.

But Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not shotgun, not barely brush lips, not act like this wasn’t something more than what it started as.

Robin told him he deserved nice things, and he deserved to be happy, and he did.

So Steve let himself try to have a nice thing.

“Again?” Steve asked, leaning in before Eddie had a chance to take a drag.

“Woah, big boy.” Eddie’s hands grabbed his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him back from making contact that he so desperately wanted. “Think that first hit might have gotten to you already. Let’s take a minute.”

“No, I-”

“Steve. You’re high.”

His tone was final, and something about the way his eyes darted away made Steve think that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone tried to make a move on him because he was giving them something.

He didn’t know Steve was into men, either.

Steve could just tell him, though. Let him know it’s not just the drugs, that he’d already had feelings for him before.

But the high was kicking in and Steve’s tongue felt like an iron weight.

“How about I get you some water?” Eddie asked, pulling away and walking swiftly to his van.

Steve didn’t protest. He did need some water.

Eddie sat on the other side of the table when he came back, handed over a bottle of water with a small smile, and watched as Steve gulped most of it down.

“This is good shit,” Steve admitted, slurring his words a little from the effort of moving his mouth. “Better than usual.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice treat once in a while.”

They sat in silence for another 30 minutes or so, though the time didn’t even feel like it was passing to Steve until Eddie stood up and guided him to the passenger seat of his van.

“Wha-?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at home. You got someone who can help you get your car tomorrow?” Eddie buckled his seatbelt, Steve tried not to be too endeared. “Maybe Buckley? Or Wheeler?”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Nancy had barely talked to him in months, not since she gave him one awkward hug after Starcourt. Robin couldn’t drive, or at least said she couldn’t. That’s why he drove her to school and all of her work shifts.

“Maybe you could?” Steve suggested.

Eddie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

— — — — — — —

February 14, 1986

Steve got him flowers.

He hadn’t seen him since the night he drove Steve home.

By the time Steve woke up the next morning, his car was parked in the driveway with a note on his keys that said ‘Promise there’s not a dent on her.’

And then Eddie had ignored his calls. He’d conveniently never been at his spot anytime Steve had ever met up with him before.

He couldn’t even pass a message through Dustin because Dustin was too curious for his own good and would probably figure out that Steve wanted to kiss him.

Which is all Steve thought about for the last month while he figured out what to do next.

Robin was no help at all, said he should just corner him after Hellfire one night and make a move if he wanted him so bad.

As if that could ever be an option.

This was his last chance, though.

He’d confirmed with one of his bandmates – Garrett, maybe? – that he didn’t have plans tonight and refused to sell on Valentine’s Day.

Steve stood in front of Eddie’s trailer, a bouquet of white and pink daisies in his hand, feeling particularly stupid.

The van was here, so Eddie was here, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk up the steps and knock on the door. This was maybe the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and he probably should leave before he was seen by someone.

“Steve?” Eddie opened the front door, confusion clear even from a distance. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d bring you flowers.”

He felt so dumb, standing here holding a bouquet of flowers for a guy who didn’t even want to sell drugs to him anymore. He considered dropping the flowers and making a run for it, but Eddie leaned against the door frame and scrunched his nose up.

Like he was trying not to smile.

Like maybe Steve did something right.

“Better bring them in so they can get water, then,” Eddie said with a hesitant smile.

Steve would take any type of smile, as long as it meant he wasn’t being sent away with his tail between his legs.

He rushed inside, didn’t think about the smell of Irish Spring coming off of Eddie, or the way his arm brushed against his side as he passed him.

Steve stood in Eddie’s trailer, taking in what Eddie called home, holding the flowers in front of him with hope.

Eddie closed the front door and walked over to him, holding his hand out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers just for me to sell you drugs again, ya know.” Eddie smiled sadly. “I would have let you buy if you really needed it.”

“You won’t return my calls so how would you know if I needed it?” Steve countered.

“Ouch.” Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You’re right. I, uh, was giving you some space.”

“What made you think I wanted any?” Steve took the flowers back from Eddie’s hand, setting them on the coffee table behind him. “If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have bothered calling at all.”

“That’s what Wayne said, but-”

“Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Wayne.” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up by wanting to kiss you. I’m sorry if the flowers are too much. I’m sorry if I’m too much.”

Steve couldn’t look at Eddie after his confession, or his attempt at one. It may have been more of an apology, but he figured his intentions were clear enough.

“Steve. Stevie. Look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, that familiar warmth covering Steve in safety. “You’re not too much. Don’t ever, ever let anyone tell you that you’re too much. You were so high, I didn’t wanna take advantage. I thought if I just left you to think about it long enough, you’d realize what happened was just from the weed.”

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands up to circle Eddie’s wrists. “It wasn’t just the weed. You’d know that if you let me talk to you before now.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, eyes dancing across the freckles that covered Steve’s surprisingly sun-kissed skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“You’re forgiven if you listen now,” Steve took a breath, letting his hands run down Eddie’s arms and settle on his hips. “I like you. A lot. Definitely more than a customer should, more than a friend should, maybe more than a regular boyfriend should. It’s okay if that’s too much, but it’s what I have to give.”

“You’re really something, Stevie.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I think I’ll take what you’re giving if that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Steve breathed out as Eddie’s lips crushed against his fully.

Steve always felt so much, always gave so much, hardly ever had anyone who would take what he had to give.

But Eddie was taking it, forcing it from Steve to his own body, his own heart, like it was the only thing he wanted or needed.

“If you wanna buy tonight, you’re gonna be real disappointed,” Eddie gasped out against his lips when they came up for air minutes, maybe hours, later. “I don’t sell on major holidays.”

“Is Valentine’s Day a major holiday?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

“It is when I get to have you in my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“That sound okay to you, big boy?” Eddie was smooth. Who could have possibly guessed?

Steve barely got out a ‘yes’ before Eddie was pulling him down the short hallway to his bedroom and rattling off things he wanted to do to him.

Steve Harrington probably wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

But Eddie Munson would make it worth his while.

[shadesslut]

rough

MINORS DNI

Pairing: (Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Smut, mention of blood)

Summary: After New York, Ethan still hungered to kill, but what happens if he gets caught by Y/N? What happens if she likes it?

(a/n: this is lowkey bad D:)

✮

✮

✮

The sound of flesh splitting open that emitted from Ethan stabbing was one of his favorite noises. Sometimes his chest would tighten from the way it made him feel. The way the blade sliced easily against skin like butter, the way skin would swell at the faintest cut. His favorite part though, was the kill. The way the shine in their eyes disappeared made Ethan giddy; he loved it.

Moving was supposed to be his fresh start with Y/N. After becoming the only member of his family alive, he promised Y/N he’d change after New York. And he did. For three months. Three months of isolation in the tiny apartment the couple shared was hell for Ethan. The day Y/N let him wander into the city he killed. 

It was four-thirty in the morning. The rattles of the windchimes that hung in their small porch combined with the creaky steps Ethan made in their kitchen filled the air. He looked out to their porch, staring at the open slide door. He shook his head as he made his way over to close it; and he wondered why Y/N left it open every night. The bedroom door was cracked open, and Ethan hoped he would be able to sneak washing the blood off his forearms without waking her. He tip-toed to their bathroom, checking over his shoulder ever so often to make sure she was asleep. He turned on the faucet halfway as he washed his arms in the dark.

He told himself he needed to calm down. He needed to be able to lay in bed still, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to do that with all of the tension inside of him from the kill. The cold water spilled off of his hands into the drain, catching the blood with it. Ethan looked dead ahead into the mirror. Only his eyes and highlights of his hair glimmered in the moonlight, and for a split second, his gaze gave himself chills. 

“Shit,” He hissed as the harsh light flipped on. He squinted his eyes at the glare and whipped his head towards the doorway, seeing a very annoyed Y/N. She wore one of Ethan’s shirts, the neckhole too big it hung at her clavicle, and a pair of booty shorts. The sight would usually make Ethan’s dick hard, but right now he felt shriveled up in fear. 

“Where were you?” She asked sternly. 

Ethan blinked repeatedly in a nerve wrecking manner. “What do you mean?” He asked lowly. She rolled her eyes and huffed. 

“You were gone for almost three hours. Where the hell were you?” She asked once more. 

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” Ethan mumbled in response. He knew she wasn’t budging. She squinted her eyes at him suspiciously and walked towards him, stopping once she saw the blood streaks in the sink. Her gaze flicked down to his shoes, coated in spots of blood. Her eyes widened in shock, along with Ethan, and the next thing she did shocked Ethan more. 

She immediately raised her hand to his neck, forcing him to bend over into a heated kiss.  Ethan moaned in surprise, but didn’t protest. Instead, he sighed heavily and snaked his hands to her waist, tightly gripping flesh. Their lips moved sloppily against each other in sync, the noises of their heavy breaths flowing to each others’ ears. He roughly pulled her against his body, and through lidded eyes Ethan saw her immediately look down. Her upper pelvis rubbed against his clothed erection, and Ethan threw his head back in pleasure. 

“This is what you do to me, baby,” He said as he watched her start to quickly undo his jeans. “You fucking ruin me.” 

She let out a dry laugh as she tugged his jeans and boxers down, letting his hard cock spring up. He hissed at the cold air, and his grip on her tightened as he left marks. She started to bend down before Ethan jerked her body up by her underarm. In one swift move, he picked her up by her thighs and set her on the bathroom counter. “As much as I love your lips, I need to be inside of you right now.” He whined, nudging his nose into her neck as he peppered kisses. 

“So needy for me, huh?” She cooed softly, her fingers raking his curls. He whimpered and nodded as he began to thrust into the air. “I missed this version of you. The rough, violent, you.” 

This made his head jerk up, his eyes full of admiration. 

“I’ve been trying to change you,” She whispered. He continued to stare at her, and he started to tug her shorts off . “I just need you to be rough again, please.” She begged. 

Ethan softly kissed her forehead. “You want me to be rough?” He asked, making sure. She nodded her head frantically, begging him. He nodded once. Then he quickly ripped her panties off, making her gasp as she stared at the torn material. He lined himself up to her entrance, and without hesitation, slammed his cock inside of her. 

A deep, guttural yell came out of her at the stretch. It burned and stung, but oh did it fill her up oh so good. Ethan, having the time of his life, continued to ram himself in and out of her. 

“Fuck honey,” he cooed down at her. “So wet for me, all for me.” 

She whimpered at his words, hair bouncing as Ethan jerked both of their bodies against each other. The arch of Ethan’s dick slid beautifully inside of her. She inhaled heavily as she shut her eyes, taking all the pleasure in. She needed this, she needed him. Ethan grunted as his hips slapped against her. He talked her through his climax, and he screwed his eyes shut as he came. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop because he knew she hadn’t finished yet. 

A hiss escaped his lips as he continued to thrust. Y/N looked up at him with big doe eyes, smiling as if she knew she had him wrapped around her pretty little finger. His thumb found her clit, immediately circling the sensitive bead. She gasped his name, and she involuntarily started grinding her hips against him. Ethan chuckled. 

“Always so needy for me, so needy for my cock that you become so limp in my hands.” Ethan teased in her ear. He was still hard even after finishing; Y/N always praised him for his stamina. She felt overstimulated, like her entire body felt goopy at his touch. Her tits bounced at Ethan’s rough movements, and Ethan whined as he watched the fabric of his shirt she wore move. She clenched around him as she approached her climax, and Ethan used his free hand to grip her jaw, forcing her into a heated kiss. 

“Ethan,” she whined. Her core tightened, and her mind went into a daze. 

“I would kill for you.” He said. “I would kill to feel you, I would kill for this pussy. I was made to kill for you.” He peppered kisses against her jaw after each sentence, and he felt the warmth of her cheeks radiate. 

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” She started, sitting up slightly as she grabbed and clawed Ethan’s back. Ethan nodded, shutting her up with another kiss. He quickened his pace with his hips and thumb, smiling into her mouth as he heard her mutter curses. She gasped loudly as she finished, and he slammed into her once more. 

Their breaths were loud and hot against each other’s skin. Beads of sweat slid down Ethan’s back, sending a chill down his spine. He pulled back to look at her state; disheveled and used. She blinked her eyes open, and with the smile Ethan gave her, she knew he would still kill. And he would do it for her.

(a/n: SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IN AWHILE)

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Sex Habits

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: Headcanons (more like a bunch of imagines) about how Az treats his mate in the bedroom and otherwise.

Warnings: smut, smut, smut, smut, smuuuuuuut. Azriel is a switch, so is reader, swearing, lord of bloodshed cameo. This is pretty fucking dirty.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Thank you @cherryjain17 for this amazing, inspiring request. I hope I did it justice.

SJM Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated &lt;3

(pic from pinterest)

Morning

-I am of the opinion that Azriel fucks you differently depending upon the time of day.

-Let's start with morning, shall we?

-Azriel is a scheduled, reliable male. Training in the morning, always, no matter the night he had before. He owed it to his High Lord to always be ready for a fight - physically, and mentally. His constant, consistent training was how he maintained that.

-However, what Rhys didn't know about what he partook in before training wouldn't hurt him.

-When Az would wake in the morning next to your - usually naked - sleeping, curled, warm body, hair sprayed across the pillows, scent unique to you filling his lungs, face painted in pure elation and serenity...

-...yeah, he would get a little hard.

-The best was when you would wake up with him, eyes dull with sleep, but their color still bright. A small, languid smile on your face. He couldn't help but touch you in that moment, his body begging him to satisfy every sense he had with the feeling of you.

-He would begin with your face, dragging the knuckle of his pointer finger across your cheekbone. Opening his palm to feel the entirety of your cheek. Tracing down the column of your throat with his pointer finger. Painting across your collarbone with every digit. Cupping your breasts delicately, fondling them, massaging them. Dragging fingers down the center of your stomach, heating up every inch of it before finally...

-...yeah, I think we get it.

-The interesting thing about sex in the morning with Azriel is that, although it begins slow, he goes fucking fast in the mornings. Pounding his fingers into you over and over again, your cum dripping down his fingers and wrist. When he finally tastes you, it's a feast. Sloppy and wet and messy and you're groaning and he's smiling so fucking big. He gets you right on the edge of euphoria before pulling back and pressing a quick kiss to your lips and turning you around, face pressed against your soft pillow, and plunging himself inside of you without a drop of mercy.

-(All of this happens within minutes because, like I said, he's got a schedule to keep).

-As he ravages you, pumping in and out and in and out faster than your brain can process, he fucking sweats. It drips down his back, down his face, across his lips, down his chest, everywhere. Your still drowsy body loves when you scrape your nails down it, coating your palms with it and fucking up his previously clean, fluffed hair with it.

-The finest, perfect part about his sex in the morning is that, even though it's rough, quick, rabid, he holds you close the entire time. He cradles your head in his forearms, litters your spine in passionate, lingering kisses, holds your hips like a cracking sculpture, caresses your scalp, thighs, and lower back.

-It is a paradox; rough yet gentle, greedy yet giving, horrid yet beautiful, quick yet endless, and hateful, yet some of the most loved you ever feel by him.

-When he finishes, and you finish multiple times, he departs you with only a kiss, and rushes down the stairs to make it in just enough time for Cassian to not suspect anything.

-He gives you smirks and winks all day anyway, much to your chagrin.

Afternoon

-Around mid to late afternoon is when Azriel tends to get an itch.

-An itch to step away from it all: his desk, his tasks, his responsibilities.

-Sometimes this itch can be scratched by something simple: a walk around Velaris, or a flight, a cup of cocoa, or even a quick nap.

-Other times, however, this metaphorical itch can only be scratched by the exclusive, spectacular taste of his mate.

-And luckily for you, Azriel is the fucking king of quickies.

-He finds you within minutes, utilizing the convenient bond cemented in his very bones, and conveys his desires with only a look.

-Some days, you decline. Too busy with work, too tired from a night previous, or just plainly not in the mood.

-On these days, Azriel understands. He leaves you respectfully, always with a short kiss and a silent promise of "later" permeating in the air.

-On the days where you do accept, however, is when Azriel truly lights on fire.

-The caveat to quickies with Azriel, however, is that he cannot risk any...leakage onto his clothing. Whether that be cum, spit, or otherwise.

-Frankly, you couldn't either. The both of you took your jobs and professionalism too seriously.

-Which is what makes these quickies so fucking good.

-He kisses you, hard, and lifts you under your ass against his waist to press you against a nearby wall, covering the both of you in shadow. He kisses you until your head spins before unzipping whatever top you have on, and claiming the shit out of your breasts.

-Gods how he loves your breasts.

-He kisses and licks, nibbles and bites, marks and marks and marks you all over your chest and ribcage, whispering words dripping in honey.

-"All mine, these are all mine, aren't they?"

-"Never going to get enough of these - enough of you."

-"I can hear your heart, baby. Need a break?"

-"Fuck you," you respond, your matching smiles and shining eyes giving away your infectious joy.

-He kisses your tits long enough to make your mouth go dry from hanging open so long, before finally making his way up to your throat, whispering "mine" along the column.

-Never leaving a mark.

-He kisses around your pulse, and sometimes you kiss around his as well, before finally recolliding his mouth with your own, and kissing you like a male starved. Mapping you like a cartographer exploding a new land. Rejoicing in the mix of your skin and your mouth on his tongue like a male on his knees in prayer.

-You would think just kisses from him wouldn't count as a quickie, but with how thoroughly and religiously and hungrily he does, you come close to release every time.

-The both of you counted it.

-On days when his cartography becomes too much to bare, or the ego in your chest roars at the thought of him getting you so close to release by just his kisses, your fingers finagle their way to the tent growing in his pants, and palm him through the leather.

-Azriel felt that, as long as your mouth was not on him, he could control himself. The bar of professionalism would be met, and the risk of leakage would be next to none.

-But you have never been one not to test a theory, especially in the name of science.

-You palm him so wretchedly ferociously and savagely that you can practically sketch the exact curve, vein, and girth of his bulge. That's how hard he gets through his pants. You wonder if there is any blood left for his brain.

-You even push him away from you and lick him through the leather, never enough to stain his pants, but enough for him to feel the heat of your tongue cupping his balls and dragging across his dick.

-Still, he never comes, not once; however, that didn't mean he didn't retaliate.

-On days when you'd suck him off this way, he strikes back like a true Illyrian warrior.

-Unforgiving, and calculated.

-He guides you away from him, and does the exact same thing to you.

-Fingers you through your pants, pressing the fabric so taught against your clit you thought you would explode, before pulling his hand away, and replacing it with his mouth. Licking your folds through the fabric, nudging your clit with his nose, devouring and consuming you through the protection of one tiny piece of fabric.

-The mix of heat and fabric is so delicious that, every time, he leaves you near tears.

-He pulls away from you slowly, makes sure you can stand on two feet, and with one last kiss to your cheek, he backs away from you.

-"Later," he whispers, one of his shadows drying the tears staining your hot cheeks. "I want more of you later. I want more of you always."

-You always somehow return to the task you were attempting to accomplish previously, mind puddy, hands shaking, and breasts deliciously sore.

Night

-So yes, Azriel likes to fuck you fast. Leave you wanting more. Drooling for him. Pooling on the floor. Left on shaking knees. Departing from you with only a few words.

-But his favorite, most beloved way to fuck you is to make love to you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you love.

-And that is how he does it at nighttime.

-But, I am getting ahead of myself.

-After long days of meetings, missions, planning, or even just boring paperwork, there is nothing he adores more than a quiet, serene dinner with you. He enjoys cooking the meal himself, usually making something one of you has mentioned having a recent craving for, and absolutely beaming when you finally walk through the door.

-You join him in the kitchen, and immediately wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He holds you close, breathing in the products in your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

-"How was your day?" you ask him.

-He's honest. Somedays he says "good," somedays he says "okay," and somedays he just sighs.

-You don't usually ask him to elaborate on those days unless you get the feeling that he wants to, but no matter what, he always asks you the question back.

-You are always honest with him too.

-After that, he finishes off dinner, and the two of you eat. Some nights it's full of conversations, sometimes superficial, like how the weather has been, but sometimes they're deep. Deep enough that sometimes he wonders if your words are able to reach inside of his brain and stroke it, hitting it exactly where he needs to be challenged, praised, or questioned.

-It was unreal every time, how well you knew him.

-Other nights, however, were coated in comfortable silence. Maybe you were both too tired to talk, or too content, or couldn't think of much to say. He never minded. If there was anything he could appreciate, it was happy, wonderful, comfortable silence. It was a sign that his day had come to an end, he had kept his Court and his people safe, and he had done at least something right.

-And what better way to bask in the safety of silence than with the person who knows you better than anyone, and the person you have more love for than stars in the sky.

-After the two of you have full stomachs, he always leads you to your shared bedroom by his arm, and pushes your chair in for you.

-Your face heats every time. Without fail.

-So does his.

-He leads you to the bedroom and kisses you once, twice, three times, before departing to take care of the dishes. He pictures how you make the mundane, simple task of getting ready for bed so godsdamn beautiful: your face cleaned, your hair refreshed, your breath newly minted, and your shoulders and jaw relaxed. A timeless beauty. A vulnerable sight, only for him.

-He finishes up and heads back to you, hands clean and soul at ease. He finds you already in bed; maybe reading, maybe writing, maybe already closing your eyes.

-He gets ready for bed himself, making sure his teeth and tongue are brushed thoroughly.

-Some nights, that is it. He joins you in bed and you drift off together, holding each other close at the beginning of the night, and closer in the morning. Smiles on your faces. Soft snores escaping you. Bodies breathing in sync.

-But not most nights.

-Most nights, after him joining you in bed, you pull him in, and kiss him so softly he barely feels it.

-But it's there.

-"Touch me, Azriel," you whisper, "and let me touch you."

-And he lets you.

-The kisses start soft, just lips on lips, before your tongue breaks his lips apart, and your bodies begin to warm up. Either he lays you down on your back or you push him down, either way, one of you gets on top of the other, and the two of you begin to do nothing less than venerate each other.

-So much kissing, so much feeling each other up and down; down each other's backs, across each other's faces, through each other's hair, across each other's stomachs, and so much breathing and groaning against each other's skin.

-This is all before a scrap of clothing comes off.

-When it does, however, Azriel undresses you like a nurse would undress a wound. Almost in slow motion, so he can take a peek at how every inch of your body looks that day. Maybe you gained a bruise, a scratch, a freckle, or a stretch mark. Either way, he wanted to make note of every inch of your body, memorizing every way your skin moved or wrinkled, your muscles flexed. He needs the image of you in his mind constantly updated.

-You do the same to him. Collecting every change in his body and adding them to his mental schema.

-When all of your clothes are finally off, and his mate stands before him completely raw, is when he begins to lose control of his mouth.

-"Gods, have you always looked like this?"

-"So warm, so soft."

-"How come every time I see you, I feel like I've spent my entire life blind?"

-His claim of never needing to resort to poetry holds true, but that doesn't mean he isn't damn good at it.

-After minutes and minutes of leaving hickeys, kisses, and indents on each other, so much so that both of your lower stomachs have begun to boil and your lungs are gasping for air, is when Azriel pulls away.

-"Can I?" he asks as he presses his forehead against yours, his hazel eyes glowing and his bulge pressed against your slick. You nod, smiling, and with one last kiss, he slides home.

-And fuck does he go nauseatingly slow.

-Even if you're on top, he ensures you pierce yourself with him with purpose, sliding his dick all the way in, all the way out, and all the way in, over and over and over.

-It was fucking heaven how well he fit in you, how he got you so wet you didn't even need to try, how deep his dick goes inside of you...

-...and how he has no qualms about never shutting the fuck up.

-Especially when you're on top - the view of you sliding him in and out of you, your body fully open to him to admire, and face at his disposal to kiss and whisper into.

-"My mate, oh my mate."

-"Right there, do you feel that? Fuck you take me so well."

-"My gods look at us, look at me in you."

-"You like that? Right there? I fucking love you. My mate. My love. My soul."

-As I said, poetry.

-One thing he never fails to take advantage of is the full-length mirror leaning against your wall, giving the both of you the perfect menu of angles to view yourselves.

-I think you know where this is going.

-"Look at us, baby. Look at us."

-"You're so fucking beautiful."

-"Look at yourself when you take me inside you."

-He goes on and on, drunk on the feeling of you, diminishing him of any sort of filter.

-I cannot imagine any reason you would want to shut up the most private, silent male in all of Prythian while he's sprouting sweet nothings to you, but if you do, there's one surefire way to do it.

-Reaching out your pointer and middle finger, only two fingers are necessary, and tracing thin lines down the veins in his wings.

-Never will you ever see him go so silent so quickly. His cheeks instantly redden and his voice escapes him. His cock begins to twitch inside you, his grip on either you or the sheets becomes so fierce his scarred knuckles turn a milk white, and his mouth falls open.'

-He becomes immediately and totally helpless.

-The two of you begin to fuck harder then, chasing the high the both of you are so close to, fucking into each other faster and faster and faster until finally you are coming on his cock, and he is spraying across your thighs.

-Finding release with a mate is different than any other - it is blinding, hot, and immeasurably pleasurable. It fills every vein in your body with a molten rapture, forcing you to collapse into his body, and his own to collapse onto yours. The bond within both of your chests throbbing in delight like a second heartbeat.

-After a few moments of you practically regaining consciousness, his warm, sweat covered body begins to move against you, making sure your head is comfortable on a pillow and your body is flat. He then presses kisses all across your face, etching a smile onto your face.

-"I still believe," he whispers against your temple, "that I will never get enough. I love you I love you I love you."

-The smell of sex and sweat vanquishes your nostrils as you stand up and head to the bathroom, Az's eyes burning holes through your skin.

-By the time you return, Azriel's arms are open to you, and you tuck yourself in. He holds you impossibly close, his miniscule chest hair rubbing against your cheek. His wings add a second layer of protection.

-Your body begins to fade, but your mind lingers a little longer to process one final statement whispered into your hair.

-"Gods, never allow me to be parted from her."

Taglist: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy@seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculptorture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz​ @thatonespriteobsessedbitch​ @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @azsazz

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/746553097204203521/the-fandom-hates-women-response-to-lack-of-ff

The "fandom hates women" part of it comes from the fact that fandom as an entity just doesn't watch the kind of media that draws femslash, even if it ticks all of the boxes of things those very same people say they like. There are so many times I've watched a show that I've seen mega-popular Tumblr posts wishing existed, and then the fandom is so, so small comparatively and often in general. There have been superheroes, vampire/supernatural shows, fantasy shows, movies, books, the list goes on, that feel like they were generated out of Tumblr's desires for ideal fandom media, and everyone knows they're never going to attract anywhere near the same attention for fandom and fanworks because the common denominator just tends to be that if there isn't a full ensemble of attractive men to ship either with each other or with the women, fandom's not interested.

So it's not about prioritizing women in that sense, it's about people witnessing hypocrisy over and over again the second a show doesn't have a mostly-male ensemble. The people who are in these fandoms are frustrated that good faith attempts to get people interested are met with every excuse in the book that all eventually boils down to "I don't like watching stuff with women in it as much as I like watching stuff with men in it." And if that's how people feel about it... sometimes the conclusions are going to turn into the more uncharitable take of "fandom hates women."

--

Maybe, but whenever I see a "fandom hates women" reblog of my stuff, one or two reblogs further down the chain I get an overt TERF. I just had to go block several people today, in fact.

The first person to reblog with a comment like that is usually subtle, but their friends and friends of friends are not. The rhetoric that very quickly starts is the fandom equivalent of that "All the butches are becoming trans men! We're losing lesbians!" stuff.

Here's the thing: I've been in ten billion fandoms that were so awesome and fit fandom's supposed tastes to a T and yet no amount of promoting them could get anyone to try the canon. This goes for canons that are all men or all white men or all majority ethnicity men or whatever else.

The default state of media is to not engender a big fic fandom.

I agree that the rare outliers mostly follow certain patterns, but we extrapolate too far when we say that a lack of those patterns is why a fandom is small.

A fandom is small because that's the near-universal default.

--

Yes, a small slice of fandom consists of guilt-ridden queer fujoshi who say they want more f/f but don't make much of a move to make that happen. I tend to run into that a lot because of my own tastes and having friends who share those tastes.

Far more of fandom is people talking generally about how representation matters without saying they would personally join these fandoms if they existed.

Neither group is large enough to be the real reason some woman-heavy canon fails to take off to HP levels.

The real reason is not hypocrisy but the fact that most things don't take off like that. Most things without massive, massive audiences especially don't take off like that. And the very few things that do are flukes and don't actually predict that another similar thing will take off in the future.

--

Go to AO3's tag search. Search for all canonical fandom tags. Sort by uses and descending order.

Right now, I get 64,390 tags.

The first page, 50 tags, goes from HP with 497,845 works to the Thor movies with 59,266 works. By page 6, we're below 10 thousand works.

By the end of page 10, we're down to Labyrinth with 3,906.

Somewhere in the top 500 AO3 fandom tags (many of which are just franchise metatags for each other), we go all the way from megafandoms to medium size and down to relatively modest ones.

That's not a lot of room for a big f/f-heavy fandom given the trends in mainstream media and that mainstream media is where most really big fandoms come from.

--

I also notice that you're conflating a lack of desire to watch something that's primarily about women with a lack of desire to watch something that includes women.

There are tons of fans who want something more like The Mummy with a leading man and leading woman they love.

Granted, that's not me and that's not a lot of my fujoshi/slasher audience, but it's extraordinarily common. I know plenty of people who don't like canons that are only dudes, but since they also don't like canons that are only ladies and they don't ship f/f, this gets spun into "fandom hates women".

--

Let me be clear:

Conflating "lesbians" and "women" is a radfem position.

[saltofmercury]

"Pillow Talk"

Pairing: König x f!reader

A/N: Had to get this out of my drafts

Summary: You and König stay up talking about your lives.

warnings: talks about kids, fluff, bullying, etc.

"Pillow Talk"

It had been 3 hours since you both had gone to bed.

Three hours since you both kissed goodnight, turned away from one another, but somewhere along the line nonstop talking, giggles, and random stories were given to one another.

Both you and König were facing each other in bed, legs wrapped on top of one another, while he had an arm under you and you had your arm on top of him.

“That was why my dad never got us pet fish.” You said. 

It had started with König asking you a simple question, his back turned to you, and then you asking him a question. Both of you now faced each other and had begun telling stories of your childhood, stories of when you were an adolescent, work stories, almost anything you guys could think of. Snowballed the stories off of one another.

You could see small glimpses of him from the moonlight outside, feel his calm breathing, his chest when he snorted, laughing at something you said.

“What about you?” You ask quietly.

“Did you have any pets when you were younger?”

Silence and a small inhale—

“I did have a fish once,” he exhaled, “Forgot to feed him one day and my dad told me I would never be responsible.” He started laughing.

You loved hearing him laugh. It was boyish, carefree, and loud. It was a little sprinkle to your night. The way he would inhale and laugh, rub his eyes or chest, like he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling that bubbled from his stomach.

“Isn’t that humorous? Responsibility based on a fish.” He was rubbing his face now.

You laughed, followed by a question, “How old were you?”

“I was about 8 or 9 years old, it was around the time I had my first crush.”

You adjusted yourself closer to him. “A crush?!” You squealed.

“Yes, at school. Primary crush.” He said nonchalantly.

“Well tell me about your crush.” 

He adjusted himself again in bed and had positioned his other arm on your thigh rubbing up and down.

“Well…” he began, “It was just a first crush, if I was timid now, I was fearful back then.”

You nodded and hummed a little for him to continue.

“I remember that day, I forgot to feed the fish because it was Valentine’s Day, and we had small gifts to give each other.. I was terrified to give anyone anything.”

“Why were you scared?”

“I don’t think I ever told you, but my classmates were very mean to me.”

You tried to picture him as a small child. His blonde/auburn hair falling to his eyebrows, his big blue eyes, he was probably tall and had chubby cheeks. Who could ever be mean to him?

“Why were they mean to you?”

He exhaled and then continued, “I guess I was too tall, I spoke too softly, cried too much in Kindergarten and that never left me.”

You had started to rub his ears now, your hand falling to his collar.

“Kids are so mean sometimes, they used to bully me for turning red whenever I got an answer wrong.”

“You still blush to this day.” He answered with a hint of smile 

“Some things just don’t go away,” you responded softly, “Some things you just learn to carry with you and eventually it goes away.”

He was quiet for a minute, then continued,

“Some things, but I try to remember they were just kids.”

You looked up at him. You can feel his gaze on you. 

You respond gently, “Have you not forgiven those kids?”

He shifts himself, he now knows the spotlight is on him.

“Shatz,” he begins. “Of course I have, they were kids they had no idea.”

He inhales again, “I’m kind of happy it happened to me, it gave me a boost to then join the military and try to face this anxiety.”

You smiled. Of course only he would say something like that. When he gets injured out on the field he always says “it's a good thing it happened to him and not one of his smaller teammates.” König was selfless that way. He could take any pain, any taunt, any malicious threat towards him as long as his company present didn’t.

“How many kids do you want?” You stopped yourself. If the Earth could open up and swallow you whole, it would feel better than what came out of your mouth.

“Kids?” he says it like it’s a question he hadn’t thought about.

“I’m sorry.” you say, “It’s the word vomit again.”

He laughs again. “Such weird phrases you come up with.”

He clears his throat again. “I think I would want 4. They could come in pairs and protect one another.”

Twins? You have to think about it. Pairs. You know he had an older sibling and he was the youngest. Maybe he had wished for two younger siblings to protect. 

“Whatever you want honestly.” He’s running his hands through your hair now, slowly inching his hands down your neck, swiping his thumb across your collarbone.

You melt. There goes König and his selflessness again. He tells you what he wants but puts your needs first.

You laugh again, “When it gets to that part we’ll make that decision together.”

Sleep crawls back in your eyelids, you can feel yourself tuning out, but you want one more story.

“König?” 

“Yes?”

“Tell me about them. The kids.”

You slowly drift off as König tells you about them.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Genshin Cuddles HCs: Part the Second (Kaeya, Dainsleif, Zhongli)

Is it any coincidence that I'm tired again while doing cuddles head canons? Probably not. I imagine I get really clingy and cuddly towards the end of the day.

But apparently not as tired lol

CW: A little angst, fluff

A/N: As per the last one, reader is presumed to be short because this 100% self insert

kaeya x gn!reader, Zhognli x gn!reader, Dainsleif x gn!reader

(PS. If you want tagged for certain kinds of content, hit me up in the asks. I'll be happy to put together some taglists)

Kaeya

To be honest, on first starting to date Kaeya, you'd think that he would be a huge tease (I mean, it is Kaeya)

But when it comes to stuff like cuddling and mid winter snuggling, it's usually quite the opposite.

After all, Kaeya is far more serious and earnest, I think, than he allows himself to let on.

Cuddles with Kaeya come in three forms

The first is him big spooning and you little spooning. He absolutely loves being the big spoon. You're so small in his arms and it feels wonderful to know that you trust him like that.

When big spooning he really loves to bury his face in your hair and trace little gentle shapes over your skin

Other times things are reversed. He really never thought that he'd enjoy being the little spoon, but he trusts you without reservation. These are moments where he has no responsibility, instead just lets you take care of him

He frequently falls asleep like this, which really warms the heart. It's moments like these where he'll let you take off his eyepatch and set it to the side

What he doesn't know is that when you do, you usually press a little kiss to the scar

Then there's the third kind

These are almost exclusively late at night, when even the strongest masks start to lower.

Sometimes he'll reach out for you, pulling you into his embrace. He'll hold you like you're fragile, like he's afraid you'll break. it's in these moments where he'll whisper in your ear the most genuine words of love

They would be the warmest moments, but in those moments you hear a truth he never speaks. He's terrified of losing you, that you--like everyone else in his life--will not find him worthy of keeping

All you can do in lose moments is lay your head on his chest, letting him wrap you in his arms, until he's convinced that not only are you still here, but that you're not going to leave him

Dainsleif

Dainsleif, I think, is surprisingly good at cuddling

I was honestly surprised in 3.5 when we saw a very gentle side of him and I think that would apply to his significant other

Seriously, the man has lost everything. He's gonna treat his s/o right, no matter what

For Dain, and for you as well, cuddling is a way to relieve stress

It really doesn't matter the position either, as long as you're sharing warmth on cold nights

You can't count the number of times you've curled up against a rock--though you find that's not the most comfortable spot for really anything--laying your head on his chest, just listening to his heart beat

It's just as often that you find his head in your lap, blond hair splayed out while you rub circles into his scalp. The touch is soothing, grounding him in the moment

Of course, there are times when you curl up under a blanket, limbs tangled together, pressed so close you can't tell where you end and Dain begins. Those are almost desperate in nature, as if warding on the ever encroaching nature of time. It's in these moments that Dain finds himself scared, and intent on branding these memories in his mind

Zhongli

Compared to Dain and Kaeya, cuddles with Zhongli are the fluffiest things on the planet

They usually happen at two times of day, with some exceptions

It's not uncommon to start the day with cuddles in bed. You'll wake up to find a pair of strong arms holding you close and a pair of molten gold eyes watching you sleep.

It never fails to make you blush, because he looks at you like you're the entire world. Which is really rather flattering given the power and status of the man currently giving you this ridiculously soft smile

The other time you two cuddle is at the end of the day. Sometimes it's inside by the fire. Other times it's outside looking at the stars, but you almost always end up wrapped up in each other

So many nights, you're tucked under is arm, or laying your head on his lap while you listen to the stories from the past or random every day advice

It's really soothing. He's got the beautiful deep voice that is almost magnetic.

The exception to the rule is when you're upset. There are times when something happened during the day, or you wake up after a nightmare and all you want is to be held and reassured. And he's good at that too. Grounding you, centering you.

Of course you do the same for him, though, given his personality it is very rare. But there are times when the past catches up to him, where an event he is incapable of forgetting weighs on his mind. He's found that your touch, your embrace, you holding him the same way he loves to hold you, makes it a little better