#it's not that hard to find it you look for it tho

[inseobts]

Pretty please could I request a scenario/imagine with Ace where the reader is from Drum Island and lost someone or something during Blackbeards raid and the reader swore vengeance vengeance on the guy.

So when she's tracking Blackbeard down, she keeps running into Ace and it grows into a friendly rivalry to see who's gonna get Blackbeard first and they compare notes and information

How this all ends on Banaro id leave up to you, I'm not pressed on a happy or angsty ending and I'd like to see your spin on this! I like your writing a lot.

Chasing Fire and Shadows

portgas d. ace x fem!reader

a/n: the islands I name are random tho lmao loved writing this so much btw

words count: 4.6k

tags: slow burn, enemies to allies, shared revenge, adventure, angst/drama, light humor

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Snow falls hard on Drum Island the night Blackbeard attacks.

You remember the fire, the screams, and the way the cold didn’t matter because rage kept you warm. Blackbeard’s crew swept through the town like wolves through a sheep pen, lighting homes, laughing through gunfire. No mercy. No reason.

Your brother had gone to help put out the flames. He never came back.

All they found was part of his coat. Burnt at the edge. Blood at the seam.

That night, in the silent wreckage of your village, you dug your hands into the snow and swore two things:

You would find Marshall D. Teach.

You would kill him yourself.

After all that.

“Vengeance won’t keep you alive.”

That’s what Dr. Kureha says the morning you tell her your plan.

You stand in the snow, fists clenched, scarf whipping in the wind “Then I’ll make sure strength does.”

Kureha narrows her eyes “Strength without control is just chaos. What are you gonna do? Run around with a kitchen knife screaming his name?”

“No,” you say “I’m going to train.”

And you do train, for months, you fight your own limits. Early mornings. Weighted runs in deep snow. Hand-to-hand combat with heavy gloves. You work under the mountain monks for endurance, under ex-hunters for reflex, and under Wapol’s leftovers for grit.

One of the monks, old and blind, says something you never forget “Pain will make you sharper, girl. But only love will keep you human.”

You don’t know how to feel about that.

Six months into your training, you find something in the wreckage of a smuggler's den near the coast. A Devil Fruit. Rotating, pale silver with jagged navy streaks, looking like a storm frozen mid-sky. You remember your breath catching, your hands shaking.

You don’t know its name. No one does.

But you eat it anyway.

It tastes like battery acid and regret.

Three days later, lightning shoots from your fingertips during a sparring match. You black out. Nearly burn down a hut. But you feel the power, deep and electric, coiled in your blood like a storm waiting for a trigger.

They start calling you the Thunderborn after that.

You learn to control it, piece by piece:

Charging your body to move faster than the eye.

Electrocuting your punches for impact.

Using static fields to sense motion behind you.

Eventually, you learn to “blink” short-range lightning jumps.

Now — Alabasta

You walk into the Nanohana bar in a sand-stained cloak, hair still carrying bits of static.

And there he is again.

Portgas D. Ace.

At the counter. Shirt open, freckles out, drinking like he owns the damn place.

He doesn’t see you at first, but you don’t say anything.

You just sit beside him and order something cheap.

Then he turns “Well, well, if it isn’t Drum Island’s sparkplug.”

You smirk “If you call me that again, I’ll fry your eyebrows off.”

Ace laughs “You’ve gotten funnier. And sparky. Did I hear lightning outside earlier?”

You sip your drink “Might’ve been me.”

“Figured. You light up when you’re mad.”

You glance sideways “Why are you always ahead of me?”

“Because I don’t stop to make dramatic entrances.”

“Jerk.”

“Aw, come on. You missed me.”

You roll your eyes “Only thing I miss is good intel. Got any?”

Ace shrugs “He’s headed west. Some say Jaya. Others say farther.”

You slam your notebook on the counter.

He lifts a brow “Still writing everything down?”

You flip through pages of hand-drawn maps, bounties, and coded rumors “Unlike you, I don’t rely on luck.”

Ace grins “I rely on fire.”

“You rely on being reckless.”

“You rely on overthinking.”

The two of you stare at each other. Then both laugh just a little.

There’s something about him you can’t hate, no matter how frustrating he is.

He taps your notebook “We should compare notes.”

You raise an eyebrow “Are we teaming up now?”

He smirks “Nah. Just wanna beat you to him fair and square.”

You lean in “Then good luck keeping up, Hothead. I’m faster now.”

Ace tilts his head “I like a challenge.”

He finishes his drink, drops some coins, and walks away, but then he pauses at the door.

“I’ll see you at the next dead end, Lightning Bug.”

“Say that again and I’ll roast you.”

He laughs and disappears into the heat.

You stare after him, heart thudding like thunder in your chest.

You're not here to cause trouble. You're just passing through Scorpio Island, a busy port with cheap food and a decent information network.

It’s humid. Loud. Smells like salted fish and sweet rice. You’ve just finished questioning a dockworker who “might’ve seen a man with a weird black beard” which isn’t helpful at all.

Then the air shifts.

You pause mid-step. Hair lifts slightly from your skin. Not from your powers but from instinct.

You’re being watched.

When you look up, Marines start stepping out from the alleys. One, two, six, then ten. Boots clinking. Guns half-drawn.

You blink.

“What…?”

The nearest officer, a man with a square jaw and too many medals, steps forward.

“Y/N, right?” he says like he already knows “You’re coming with us.”

You take a step back, palms up “I don’t want any trouble. I’m not a pirate or anything—”

He tosses something at you.

A bounty poster.

It floats through the air and lands at your feet, face-up.

Your face. Your name. Wanted: 82,000,000 Berries. Alive or dead.

“What the—?” You crouch to pick it up. Your fingers spark from the shock of touching your own damn bounty “This has to be a mistake. I didn’t do anything.”

“You took down the Captain of the Blackjaw Pirates in Loguetown. Witnesses saw lightning. Saw you.”

Your jaw drops “I wasn’t—! That was self-defense! He tried to rob a ship I was on!”

“You blew a hole in the harbor.”

You groan “He exploded first! I exploded back! It wasn’t like I was trying to—!”

“Doesn’t matter. You attacked a pirate with a bounty. You fought on public ground. That makes you a threat.”

You clench your fists. Static dances around your knuckles.

“I don’t want to fight you,” you say again, slower, sharper “I’m not your enemy.”

But they don’t listen.

They raise rifles. They step forward.

And you flinch, not from fear, but from frustration.

“DAMN it,” you mutter “Why is everyone so STUPID—”

Suddenly, there’s a gust of hot wind and a blur of orange and freckles.

“Oi” says a voice you recognize, just before your feet leave the ground.

“What the—!”

You're lifted off the street in a flash of fire, bridal style, and the world tilts.

Portgas D. Ace is grinning, even as flames flicker at his shoulders.

“She said she doesn’t want a fight,” he calls to the stunned Marines, like he’s announcing a party “So back off.”

And then he’s like flying. No, blasting forward in a burst of flame, carrying you over rooftops, streets, and screaming civilians until the port becomes a blur beneath you.

After making sure you got far enough, he sets you down gently. Too gently.

You slap his arm.

“What the hell, Ace?”

“Ow.”

“You could’ve dropped me!”

“Sure, but then I’d have to carry you again. This way saves time.”

You glare. Sparks flicker from your hands “I had that under control!”

“Yeah, I saw,” he says, flopping onto a patch of dry grass like this was a walk in the park “Totally calm. Not shouting at all.”

You kick a rock “They’re saying I’m some kind of threat now. I didn’t even mean to take that guy down! He attacked me!”

Ace lifts a brow “Big guy, metal jaw, kinda ugly?”

“That’s the one.”

“You melted his sword.”

“It was instinct!”

Ace whistles low “That’s why your bounty’s that high. Not many people take down a guy like that without trying.”

You fold your arms, seething “This is so stupid.”

Ace looks at you for a long moment “You okay?”

You sit beside him “No. I’m not. I’m not even close.”

“...You’re not gonna cry, are you?”

You shove his shoulder “I will electrocute you.”

He laughs “There she is.”

You look out toward the ocean, your anger slowly cracking “I didn’t sign up for all this. I just wanted to find Blackbeard.”

Ace’s smile fades “Yeah. Me too.”

You don’t say anything for a while. The wind brushes past, carrying sand and silence.

Finally, you ask, “So. What now?”

Ace stretches his arms behind his head “We keep chasing. And maybe next time, I’ll let you save me for a change.”

You side-eye him “...You just want to get carried.”

“I’m just saying it’s only fair.”

It’s late afternoon on Mira Island, a laid-back little place known for its wind chimes, lazy bars, and fishermen who talk too much.

You’ve been here two hours and already heard five versions of “a pirate with a black beard stole someone’s boat.”

Typical.

You’re sitting outside a bar near the water, boots up on the railing, pretending to enjoy a bland cocktail. The sun hits the sea just right, and for a second, you forget the bounty, the chase, the Marines...

"Nice poster, Sparkplug."

You freeze mid-sip. That voice again.

You lower the glass slowly and turn.

Ace stands there, grinning like always, flipping something between his fingers.

He slaps it down on your table.

Your new bounty poster.

It’s the same damn thing from Scorpio Island… but worse.

Now it says:

WANTED — Y/N Dead or Alive — 142,000,000 Berries

And the picture?

You groan “Where the hell did they even get this photo?”

Ace leans on the table, chin on hand “Looks like a surveillance shot. Pretty high quality for Marines, honestly.”

You glare “I look good in it. That’s suspicious.”

He snorts “Right? I mean, hair’s all dramatic in the wind, eyes glowing. You look like you're about to declare war on God.”

You squint at him “Did you come here to bully me?”

“Nah,” he says “Came here to drink. Saw your face first thing at the port. Figured I’d come ruin your day.”

You grab your glass “Too late, it was already ruined.”

Ace sits across from you and signals the bartender “Then let’s make it worse.”

Two drinks later you're both laughing. You’ve moved on to shots.

It turned into a challenge somewhere between the third insult and the first real smile.

You’re trying not to slur. He’s trying not to fall off his stool.

“This island’s too quiet” you mutter, pouring another.

“You’re just mad it doesn’t have Marines to shock.”

“You’re mad I can outdrink you.”

Ace points at you “That’s not true. You’re just shortcircuiting, so the alcohol hits faster.”

You gasp “Did you just insult me?”

He nods “Twice, actually. You missed the first one.”

You slam your glass down “One more round.”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

You roll your eyes “Fine. One more round… idiot.”

He grins “There it is.”

Later on, you're both quieter. Buzzed, but not spinning.

You stare out at the sea, feeling the calm before the next storm. Because there’s always another storm.

You speak first “You know… maybe we should just make it official.”

Ace lifts a brow “What?”

You look at him, serious now “An alliance. You and me. Find Blackbeard together.”

He pauses.

Then he shakes his head, just once “Can’t.”

You frown “Why not?”

“He’s dangerous.”

You sit up straighter “You think I don’t know that?”

“He killed someone I cared about.”

Your breath catches “...Same.”

Ace doesn’t look at you when he says, “I can’t risk someone else.”

You stare at him, heart suddenly heavier “So what, all this time… you were just playing nice?”

He blinks “No.”

“Then were you feeding me fake info? Sending me in the wrong direction to keep me out of it?”

His expression hardens “I don’t do that.”

You cross your arms “Really? Because it kinda feels like I’m chasing a shadow and you’re chasing the real thing.”

“I gave you everything I had. Every rumor, every tip. That’s my style. I don’t lie to people I respect.”

You scoff “Respect?”

Ace leans in a little, face calm but serious “Yeah. You’re strong. Smart. Brave. You deserve better than chasing a monster into hell.”

You meet his eyes.

“I’m already in hell beacuse of him” you say.

Ace doesn’t respond. Just looks at you for a long time.

The silence between you is sharp. Electric.

And then he says, “...I’ll see you around, Sparkplug.”

He leaves before you can say anything else.

You sit there, staring at the table, fingers twitching.

The poster flutters in the wind, your own face looking back at you.

Wanted. Alone. Again.

It’s too damn hot.

You're holed up in an abandoned fishing shack on Gulliver Island, nursing a half-broken fan and peeling off your jacket like it’s trying to kill you.

Outside, the jungle hums with heat and insects. Inside, it’s just you, a damp rag, and one tall, shirtless idiot leaning against the doorway.

“Thought you’d be gone by now” you mutter.

Ace smirks. He’s barefoot, towel slung over his shoulder, sunburnt collarbone on full display.

“I was,” he says, stepping in like he owns the floor “But then I heard about a lightning girl terrorizing a squad of Marines a few miles up the coast.”

“I didn’t terrorize them,” you snap “They cornered me. Again.”

He raises both hands “Hey, I believe you. I just figured you might need a break.”

You glare “So you brought yourself?”

He grins “Thought you’d enjoy the view.”

Your eyes flick over his bare chest before you can stop yourself “Please.”

“Caught that.”

You toss your rag at his head. He catches it with one hand and chuckles.

Later, you sit across from each other at a short wooden table. There's barely enough space for two people, and your knees touch every time one of you shifts. You blame the heat for the sweat on your neck, not the way Ace’s eyes linger too long when you lean forward.

He slides something across the table.

Your bounty poster. Again.

You groan.

“They upped it,” he says casually “You’re at 170 mil now. Guess the lightning show made an impression.”

You snatch the paper “Why do they keep using this photo?”

“You look too good in it. Makes you more dangerous.”

You shoot him a look “I’m already dangerous.”

“Oh, I know.”

His tone is low. Too low. You feel it in your spine.

You set the poster down.

“So,” he says after a beat “What now?”

You shrug “Still chasing him. Still alone.”

Ace’s fingers tap the table. His knee bumps yours again and doesn’t move.

You meet his gaze. It’s hot in here, and not just because of the island.

“You ever get tired of being on your own?” you ask, voice soft.

He doesn’t answer right away.

“I’ve got reasons” he says eventually.

“I know. You told me.” You lean in a little “Doesn’t mean you have to like it.”

Ace watches you for a long moment. There’s tension now, real and pulsing. It builds between you like a charge in the air, like your own devil fruit is reacting to something deeper.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt” he says, quietly.

You look down, then back up at him “I don’t want to see you die chasing him alone.”

Your foot brushes against his under the table. Neither of you moves this time.

You could lean in. He could close the gap.

But neither of you does.

Instead, he stands, too quickly. His hand runs through his hair, like he’s shaking off whatever just passed between you.

“I’m sleeping on the roof,” he says “Too hot in here.”

You watch him leave, jaw tight, pulse racing.

The door creaks shut behind him.

You're left alone with the heat… and a storm you’re not sure you can keep holding back.

Weeks later.

The storm rolls in fast.

One second you're arguing with a stubborn trader about a Blackbeard sighting, the next you're sprinting through sheets of rain, your jacket clinging to your skin like a second, colder version of yourself.

Lightning flashes above. Loud. Familiar. Yours, or maybe not.

You duck under a hanging sign and shake out your soaked sleeves. Behind you, heavy footsteps squish through the mud.

“I told you to wait” Ace says, breathless.

You turn, rain dripping from your hair “I told you to keep up.”

His freckles are speckled with raindrops. His hair’s a mess. He looks unfairly good for someone drenched head to toe.

“Nice weather” you mutter.

“I swear, you summon this stuff on purpose.”

You smirk “Oh? Fireboy scared of a little water?”

He gives you a look “I’m not scared. I just respect the enemy.”

“What's that even supposed to mean.”

Thunder cracks above. You flinch slightly, but Ace notices. He steps closer, that infuriating grin back on his lips.

“Shouldn’t you be used to this?”

“Not when I’m stuck in it with you.”

He gestures to a shed nearby, half-hidden behind a fruit stand “There. Shelter.”

You glance at it. Small. Barely big enough for one of you.

“Great” you deadpan.

Inside the shelter it’s even worse than expected.

Dark, creaky, barely more than a shack. But it’s dry. Mostly. Except the roof drips in two places.

You stand awkwardly close. Too close. The space smells like rain and sweat and wood. His arm brushes yours when he adjusts his belt. You try not to react, but your skin’s already warm from the charge of the lightning earlier.

“You’re shivering” he says quietly.

“No, I’m not.”

He looks at you. Long. Serious.

“Come here.”

You stare “What?”

“I’m warm,” he says, and yeah, his Devil Fruit does give him an advantage here...

You hesitate. Just a second.

Then you sigh and step closer. He pulls you in gently, an arm around your waist, casual like it means nothing. But it does.

His skin radiates heat. His breath brushes your temple. You stand there, half-mad from how close his mouth is to your ear.

“Better?” he asks.

You nod, voice low “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

You feel his smile before you see it.

Then, softer “You know… I wasn’t trying to push you away. Lat time we met.”

You glance up.

“We’re not allies” you say.

“We’re more than that,” he answers “Aren’t we?”

The silence grows thick. Your heart pounds so loud it nearly drowns out the rain.

You tilt your head “You always this forward when you’re wet?”

He chuckles, low and slow “Only when I like the person I’m stuck with.”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

Your lips are inches apart.

And still… neither of you moves.

Not yet.

But the storm isn’t the only thing building.

The rain pounds the roof, wild and heavy. The wind howls through the cracks in the walls, but inside the shack it’s still.

Your breath hitches.

Ace hasn’t moved and neither have you.

Your fingers curl slightly into his shirt. He’s too warm. Too close. Too good at looking at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Say something” you whisper.

His voice is rough “You want honesty?”

You nod.

“I think about you too much.”

You blink “That wasn’t the kind of honesty I was expecting.”

He grins but it's softer than usual “Then maybe you should stop expecting the worst from me.”

You don’t have a smart reply this time.

You tilt your face up. You’re done pretending the heat between you is just because of your devil fruits, or the jungle, or the shared goal of revenge.

This is different. And it’s real.

You lean in.

So does he.

The kiss is slow at first. Testing. His lips brush yours like a question.

Then it deepens.

Your fingers fist into the front of his shirt. His hand finds the back of your neck, thumb grazing your skin in a way that sends a sharp bolt of need straight through you.

You shift, pressing closer... hips brushing, mouths moving. The shack feels smaller. The air tighter.

You gasp when his teeth graze your lower lip.

He pulls back just enough to speak, voice hoarse.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first island we met at.”

“You’re late” you murmur, tugging him back down.

This time, the kiss is rougher. More desperate. His hands on your waist now, yours sliding up under his shirt, fingers trailing over warm skin. He swears under his breath when you do.

You only break apart when a roll of thunder shakes the shack.

Your foreheads stay pressed together.

You’re both breathing hard.

Still wrapped around each other.

“Storm’s not letting up” he says.

“Guess we’re stuck.”

A small smile “Yeah. Real shame.”

Time pass and you’re curled up beside him, his jacket draped over you both like a blanket.

You trace a small burn scar on his shoulder lazily with one finger.

“You still want to find Blackbeard alone?”

Ace’s jaw tightens for a second.

Then he exhales “I don’t know anymore.”

You nod. You understand.

But for now, in this moment, neither of you are alone.

Weeks pass.

You and Ace keep crossing paths. At first, by accident. Now? You’re not so sure.

You bicker like rivals. Fight like friends. Flirt like something more.

“Lightning for brains” he mutters when you zap open a locked door instead of picking it.

“Matches-for-hands” you snap back, shoving past him.

But you don’t go separate ways this time.

It’s hot again. The island of Kota is all red dust and thick air. You’re sitting outside a half-crumbled tavern, nursing something too bitter to drink, when a kid, skinny, sunburned, eyes too sharp for his age, runs up to your table.

“You’re the lightning girl, right?”

You pause “Who’s asking?”

He glances around, then whispers, “I got news. About the man you’re hunting.”

That gets your full attention.

Ace looks up from his drink across the table. His whole body shifts, not much, but you feel it. Tension behind the ease. He’s worried, and trying to hide it.

“What kind of news?” you ask the boy.

“Blackbeard passed through Southshore two days ago. They say he’s headed to the mountains on Harka Isle. Big crew. Real big.”

The kid slips a folded paper into your hand and bolts before you can ask more.

You stare down at the message. Your pulse picks up. The handwriting is frantic. Names you recognize. Places that weren’t supposed to exist anymore.

“Let me see.” Ace says, reaching for it.

You snatch it away “No.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know if it’s real—”

“I’ll decide that.”

He leans back in his chair, jaw tight “You’re not thinking straight.”

You stand “And you’re not listening.”

The fight doesn't end when the sun sets.

You’re pacing your rented room above the tavern, lightning buzzing faintly under your skin.

Ace leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You’re acting like you’ve already decided to die.”

You spin “And you’re acting like I don’t have a reason!”

He walks toward you “I never said that.”

“But you think it.”

Silence.

His voice drops “I think you’re carrying something too heavy. Alone.”

You look at him.

And something breaks open.

“You want to know exactly why I’m doing all this? Fine.”

You walk to him close, but not touching.

“He killed my brother,” you say “During the raid on Drum Island. Not with his own hands... Blackbeard’s a coward. But it was his chaos. His madness. My brother bled out in the snow, calling for me, and I was too far to reach him.”

Ace’s eyes darken. He doesn’t move.

“I don’t care what it costs,” you whisper “I don’t care if I burn out, or if I die with him. As long as I take that bastard down into hell with me.”

He exhales slowly, like your words hit something deep.

And then he steps forward.

“I hate this,” he says quietly “Because I get it.”

You don't say anything else.

You just reach for him.

Later on, the sheets are twisted. Your skin still hums, but not from lightning. You’re pressed against Ace, legs tangled, his hand stroking slow circles on your spine.

Neither of you says much.

You don't need to.

It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t fast. Not this time.

It was everything unsaid, poured out in touches and breath and the way he looked at you like you were more than vengeance.

You break the silence.

“You really think I can’t do it?”

“I think you can,” he says softly “I just don’t want you to lose yourself doing it.”

You stare at the ceiling.

Too late for that. But you don’t say it.

You just stay there, in the dark, skin on skin.

Storms can wait. But not forever.

The sun is cruel when it wakes you.

You turn over, reaching across the bed.

Cold, empty sheets.

Your stomach drops.

You sit up, frowning “Ace?”

No answer.

You scan the room. His shirt is gone. So are his boots. His dagger. His hat.

You rush downstairs barefoot, wild with sleep and fear “Ace?!”

The barkeep doesn’t even look up “Left before sunrise. Didn’t say much.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears “Left where?”

No answer.

You push out into the sun-drenched street. A headache builds behind your eyes “Damn it. Damn it, Ace—”

“Hey” a voice says. It’s the kid from yesterday, standing near the edge of the alley. Same nervous energy. Same sharp stare “He left you something.”

You rush over “Where is he?!”

The boy just hands you a folded piece of paper.

You open it with shaking hands.

I had to go ahead. I know you’ll try to follow me. I hope you don’t. If I can end this, maybe you won’t have to. Don’t hate me for this. I’m not trying to leave you. I’m trying to save you.

You reread the words five times.

They don't sink in.

You press the page to your chest, breath shaking. But your mind grabs onto one thing.

He didn’t say goodbye.

He didn’t say he wouldn’t come back.

You chase every whisper. Every rumor.

Lightning burns under your skin as you cross sea after sea.

Someone saw smoke on Banaro Island.

Two men, one made of fire, one of darkness.

You go there.

You go to Banaro.

The island is scorched, like lightning and death danced a waltz across its surface.

Ash coats the wind. Trees splintered, rocks cracked down the middle.

Your stomach twists but your hope is louder.

“Ace won,” you whisper to yourself “He had to.”

There’s no body.

No blood.

You search until your knees ache. You find his hat, not burned, just buried under some rubble. You hold it to your chest and close your eyes.

Maybe he left it on purpose.

Maybe he’s coming back for it.

You smile.

You believe that.

You have to.

Three Days Later

You're in a small port town, hair damp from rain, scarf pulled tight as you sit in a dusty inn with a cup of bitter coffee.

There’s a newspaper crumpled on the table beside you. You’re not even looking at it.

Until you see the name.

“Portgas D. Ace: Captured. Now held in Impel Down.”

Your chest goes cold.

The mug slips from your fingers and shatters.

People glance over, but you don’t notice.

You just stare.

Captured.

Alive.

But for how long?

The newspaper says nothing about the fight. Nothing about what’s coming next.

But you know.

The World Government has him.

They’re going to make an example out of him.

You press your palms to your face and sit still for a long time.

Hope is still in your chest... But now it’s shaped more like panic.

You have to get to him.

You have to do something.

You will.

Because you can't be too late this time.

But you might be, if you don’t move... now.

[sunparadiso]

don’t save him he don’t wanna be saved

college student caleb x college slut reader/smut-slight angst?

We’ve all heard the old saying: men love hoes. And Caleb is no exception.

Everyone thinks he’s a sweet boy. He’s super friendly, so thoughtful and generous. He’s the kind of guy parents want their kids to be friends with, such a well-mannered young man with a spotless GPA. He gets along with practically everyone-he’s the best guy to go party with, never got too drunk to be useless and never too sober to be a buzzkill. Girls always gravitate towards him and if they weren’t drunk caleb would spend the night playing wingman.

Thus to everyone, sweet and kind boys like Caleb deserved a good girl, a kind of girl he could take back home to his granny. The kind of girl a guy like caleb could marry. And to everyone, you’re definitely not that girl.

You were a different kind of trouble. Unbelievably attractive, and so incredibly easy.

The guys he hangs out with occasionally are so quick to pull up your track history as if Caleb wasn’t already ignoring the group chat they put him in.

-yk the basketball team ran a train on her in their hotel room right after nationals?

-I think my plug is smashing her too dude i see them riding around and shit

-weed been extra good tho i won’t lie

-lmaoo cal bro u kiss her ur kissing a 1000 dicks

-ong dude hit and quit that immediately

-frr get your piece and let her goooo she’s not the one for u trust me

But caleb doesn’t want to let you go :(

Much to the disappointment of everyone around him, he likes you..a lot, and he feels almost too old to be having a crush, but it sums up what he’s been feeling. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get close to you when he sees you're in the same physics lab. Every Thursday from 5-8pm, he's pushing his chair closer to yours, enough to drown in the sweetness of your perfume. Burning up from your smile when you laugh at his dumb jokes. Trying not to stare too long at your ass when go up and ask the TA a question. Finally locking in and getting the work done when he starts bricking up in his sweats imagining what the lip you bite on tastes like as you crunch numbers on his calculator.

Truth is, he quite enjoys the fact that you're highly experienced. Virgins just don’t do it for him, a self realization he comes to learn when he finally does get a taste of you. Why find somebody so amateur when he has you? A pretty girl with a cute smile that knows exactly what to do with his dick.

How could he let you go when you suck his cock sooo good? You love that it’s fat, love the struggle of getting it down your throat, immediately choking, eyes getting glossy with tears. It really inflates his ego when your throat lets out violent gurgles, filling up his room. "a-ah-damn baby keep goin'” You’re slurping up your drool oozing down his cock all over the short hairs at the base, and caleb loves the sound of it, sopping with your spit and his pre decorating your tongue. Slick pink muscle lapping at his cockhead as you look at him all cute, teasing the blunt end, coaxing for his nut that’s he’s shaking on his elbows. Right when he’s close, you suck his balls fisting him quickly, suckling on them as they tighten up against your lips and ducking your tongue down on the little patch of skin above his ass. “yeahyeah-get me there gorgeous o-oh-fuckk babe ‘m cummin’ -” You’re quick to envelop your mouth around him and he sees white, shooting quick and thick ropes, twitching on your tongue sending load after load and he watches your throat bob, swallowing him. Caleb shamelessly kissing you hard after, nice and sloppy with his tongue tasting the semibitterness of his seed on your lips. Who cares? it’s his dick in your mouth now.

So what if others got a taste before he did? It’s not like your body remembers them anyway. Pretty pussy all warm and tight. Struggling to take him as if you’ve never been fucked before. “fuuckk caleb-‘s too much” you whine on his dick as you bounce on it, the fat ass plastered all over your instagram jiggling on his lap as you come down. He can’t get enough of it, his large hands meeting your skin in slow and loud smacks. So damn soft and supple, he’s grabbing handfuls to spread and watch your stretched out hole devour him. “alll for you baby-‘n you’re takin’ it -nice and-ngh deep h-ah you like that?” Pussy fluttering each time you sink down, gushing cream that forms a wet ring at the base of his cock. You begged to take him raw and that’s why you're the best, so eager to feel him. Letting his bare tip rub the gooey spot deep in your guts. Letting him kiss your cervix and feel your sticky walls spasm. You’re so fucking wet-wetter than your throat and he feels like he’s drowning, losing his cock in your little water park that can’t help the noise.

His name drags out of your mouth like a wail and it only makes him raise his hips up to meet you, “o-oh-fuck me caleb-harder- yesss ‘s so deep-” He gets you louder, let his stupid friends hear that he’s got you now and you're not going anywhere. Those guys were never his friends though, that much is clear.

Whatever. Caleb reckons your previous hook-ups never made you finish. Decides to take you in missionary just so he can see what they haven’t, toying with your clit under his fingers and watching you play with your tits as he drills your hole, “wanna feel you cum beautiful-fuckk yeah baby- cum on your dick- mhmm-‘s yours” It takes everything in him not to bust first, the way you writhe under him , spreading your legs wider to take more drives him crazy. You sound so fucking sexy when your build up peaks that it’ll play in his head for weeks. God your greedy little pussy latches onto him like a vice, like it’s desperate for his load. Your pretty mouth gets to begging for it too, begging for him to make this pussy his. Fuck he wants to-so so bad. He has no choice but to cum deep inside you, letting you feel his cock twitch, his heartbeat rubbing up on your walls as he empties into you. Yeah he’ll gladly make this pussy his, for life, and nobody can change his mind.

The only thing he wish he could change was what happens after you fuck. You let him wipe you down and get you water. You let him spoon you in bed and watch Tiktoks on your phone. But everytime caleb wants to make plans for a date- to take a step towards something permanent with you, you're sliding out of bed putting your clothes on, telling him you have plans with friends or you're going home for the weekend. It’s like you're here with him, but just a touch away and he can’t get close.

It keeps him up late sometimes, staring absentmindedly through his window lost in his thoughts about you and him. But then it clicks one night when he realizes he’s watching you in a tiny jean skirt hop on the back of some guy’s obnoxiously loud motorcycle, zooming out of the parking lot. It makes him blink several times just to make sure he’s not imagining it. Huh? There’s someone else..?

But who?

[browneyebby]

༉‧₊˚. “ greenlight “ by tate mcrae — (fem) prissy!reader x d.w

“ two chains hangin’ off your neck when you kiss me,

so strange, who’d’ve thought we’d get here with our history? “

( cw: kissing/making out, cussing, brief mention of prostitution (joke tho lol))

god, you were such a soc. your room was covered in piles of delicate clothes and lace, the walls were painted a gorgeous light pink, and you had a fresh bouquet of flowers ever time dallas would come visit (which was very often). so dally finds himself wondering every now and then how he even likes you. you were against everything he stood for, you were so prissy compared to a rugged man like him. but our dallas winston did always seem to have a soft spot for pretty soc girls, didn’t he?

he remembers why he likes you in moments like this — when you’re underneath him, and his pink lips are on yours. your freshly-done hair is getting ruined as you lie against the pillow, manicured hands in his greasy hair. he adores having you like this, he adores infiltrating your spoiled and feminine life. he feels like such an outcast in your world, but he likes it that way. he likes being stared at by judgemental kooks and greasers alike, wondering how someone like you ended up with someone like him. he loves the attention, and it’s all worth it when he gets to hear your voice whimper out a “dal,” whenever he bites your lower lip too hard.

his forearms rest on either side of your pretty face, viens buldging in the most sexy way possible as he cages you under him. “god, you’re fuckin’ perfect, aren’t ya?” he drawls quietly as he kisses your cheek.

you giggle, often having reactions like that when he compliments you. “i know,” you say back, going to capture his lips again with a peck.

“yeah, trust me doll, i know you know,” he says after you kiss him, his brown eyes looking down at you, and his perfect mouth shaped into a breathless half-smile. “silly soc,” he mutters, moving to lie beside you. he lifts his arm so you can go under it and rest against his side.

“dirty greaser,” you playfully say back to his quiet dig, not taking offense to his.

he scoffs and lights a cigarette, letting out a breathy chuckle to your comment before taking a hit. he’s quiet for a bit as he does so, and when he’s finished after a few seconds, he speaks again. “you know,” he starts, clearing his throat from the smoke. “we’re not even meant to be dating, a’ight? least y’could do is be nice to be, sweetcheeks,”

you roll your eyes but keep your smile. “oh please, give me a break,” you say. “you’re not nice either. so you could do the same, and put out that cigarette in my room to start the process. told you so many times i don’t want it to smell like smoke in here,”

“fuck nah,” he puts it in between his teeth again. “c’mon doll, if you’re datin’ a greaser then you gotta accept our culture,”

“‘culture’ my ass, it’s an addiction, it’s not good for you,” you poke his chest. “listen to your girlfriend, dal, isn’t that the first thing darry taught you when you dated sylvia?”

“hey, sylvia was a bitch, darrel didn’t give a fuck if i was a bitch back.”

you sigh and rest your head on his chest, giving up the playful argument for now. your lips were swollen and all you wanted to do was either keep kissing him or take a nap. you fiddle with his silver st. christopher aimlessly as you speak again after a couple moments. “don’t you think it’s weird that we’re together?” you ask him.

“yeah,” he mutters, shrugging as if it’s nothing.

you pout, having expected him to say something like ‘no’ or ‘what’s that supposed to mean?’, not an immediate agreement. “what? why?”

“you know why, s’why ya asked,”

“well— i just didn’t think you’d agree so fast.” is your response.

another shrug. “c’mooon,” he drawls. “every fuckin’ idiot here knows it’s weird, so it would be sad if i didn’t. you’re a spoiled soc, and i’m a greaser. one o’the bad ones, too, i’m not tolerated like pony or johnny,”

“…yeah, guess so. but i tolerate you,” you murmur.

“you’re a sweetheart, that’s why,” he explains his point while complimenting you.

“thanks dal,”

he takes a final hit of his cigarette, and then uses your pretty pink ciramic jewlery tray on your bedside as an ashtray as he sets it down. “now c’mere,” he changes the topic and pulls you on top of him. “think we’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we, sweetheart?” he asks, using the earlier nickname on you again.

your smile is back instantly as you nod, painted nails and pristine fingers instantly finding their way in his brown hair and on his chest. “mm, only if you buy me a milkshake after,” you tease, knowing you’ll kiss him regardless.

“god, got a prosititute of a broad, don’t i?” he’s smiling anyway, though trying to feign annoyance. “you think i’ve got the money for that?” he pokes your side playfully. “c’mon, honey, kiss your man,”

so you comply, glossy lips finding his once more. you could go without a milkshake, as long as you were with your dallas.

. ۫ ꣑ৎ taglist (comment here to be added!) : @avroravia @r0seb100d @fawning4leif @dinerlana

[secrelty-z]

NSFW Eren x Spoiled Brat!Reader Headcanons

A/N: Brat tamer Eren? It’s toxic, it’s unholy, and it smells like Dior Sauvage and expensive lingerie. Nothing drives me wilder than the thought of brat tamer Eren. So let's get into it.

1. Brat behaviour turns him on. Every. Single. Time.

You whine. You pout. You roll your eyes.

His dick? Rock hard.

Not only because he finds you look stupidly cute, but because he's just thinking about all the things he can do to you later if you keep this act up, which let's be honest, you will. Just to piss him off more.

He’ll glare at you from across the room like: “You wanna test me today?”

Spoiled girls get disciplined. And by disciplined, I mean face-down, drooling on the pillow, legs shaking.

⸻

2. He’s big. Let’s get that out of the way.

Like, pornstar big. “I need to mentally prepare” big.

And the cocky bastard knows it.

“You wanted to act grown, right? Now take it like a grown woman.”

You always beg... because he wants you to.

“Eren, slow down! Please—fuuuckk—it’s too much!…”

“It wasn’t too much when you were mouthing off ten minutes ago.”

⸻

3. He lives to break your attitude during sex.

You get mouthy? He makes you shut up on his cock.

“Say that shit again with your mouth full, baby. C’mon.”

He'll coo at you with his hand tangled in your hair, as if you're not currently choking on his dick with your eyes tearing up.

Makes you repeat the bratty things you said earlier while he’s fucking you, just so he can ruin you right after.

“What was it you said? I’m annoying and mean? Yeah? Keep that same energy while I’m in your guts.”

⸻

4. He ties your hands when you get too grabby.

You reach back to push him away mid-backshots? Nah. He pins you down like you owe him rent.

“Keep your hands right there, princess. Don’t act up unless you want me to take it further.”

The man is dangerously into control—especially when you’re being difficult.

Spoiled brat? Meet dom Eren with a vengeful sex drive.

⸻

5. He loves using toys on you just to overstimulate you.

Vibrator on your clit while he’s deep in you? That's one of his favourite things.

Feeling you clench around him and squeal his name every time he turns up the vibrator, your hands gripping the sheets, and you're practically seeing stars. All while he's looking down at you with a wicked smirk.

You’re shaking and crying, and he’s whispering filth in your ear:

“Can’t handle it, brat? But you wanted attention. This is what attention looks like.”

⸻

6. Public teasing? His specialty.

You act all sassy in public and he doesn’t forget.

He'll either wait until the both of you are back at home or if he's feeling impatient he'll find some bathroom to fuck you in. Or his car.

He’ll fucking you with your panties shoved in your mouth so nobody else hears his sweet bratty girl screaming his name.

Or if you guys are back home, he'll go feral on you literally

Grabbing you by the throat while he fucks you intro the mattress and edges you for hours.

“You embarrass me in public, I embarrass your soul in private. Fair trade, yeah?”

⸻

7. You love pissing him off just to see what he’ll do to you.

You know EXACTLY what buttons to push.

Wearing nothing under his hoodie while he’s gaming?

Sitting on his lap and grinding just a little while saying “you’re not gonna do anything anyway”?

Next thing you know your face is in the mattress and he’s wrecking you like a man possessed.

“Say I won’t do something again. I fucking dare you.”

⸻

8. He talks so much shit during sex.

“This what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to fuck the brat out of you? You're such a little slut."

“This pussy’s got an attitude problem. Gotta fix it, baby."

He’ll make you beg like it’s a game.

“Nah, you’re not done yet. One more. You got one more, don’t you, spoiled girl?”

⸻

5. Aftercare is elite tho.

He may destroy you, but after? You’re in his lap, wrapped in a hoodie, hair a mess, sipping water from his hand like a princess.

“You okay, baby?” he asks while kissing your temple.

“Mhmm. My legs don’t work, but I’m great...”

He’ll stroke your hair with a shit eating smirk. “Good."

⸻

10. But the man is stupidly in love with you.

Even when you’re a menace, even when you’re screaming his name like you’re being murdered, he's the sweetest to you afterwards.

He calls you a "troublemaker” but won’t let another soul look at you.

You're his after all. Even if you do drive him crazy sometimes.

But even Eren has his moments.

⸻

Part two?

[ssvnriise]

I genuinely start writing these typa fics thinking “just a few hundred words” and end up 4k deep in loserboy brainrot (word count isn’t 4k tho dw, it’s about 1k 🥴)

content warnings — NSFW/mdni, smut, mild degradation, praise kink, pathetic!choso, femdom, begging, established relationships

choso is such a hopeless loser for you that the very first time your lips met, he actually moaned—a soft, needy sound muffled into your mouth like he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. his hands immediately flew to your waist, fingers digging in with surprising urgency as he tugged you closer, like he was afraid you’d pull away before he got to savor it. you could feel how tense he was, how his whole body shivered under the weight of something so simple.

you couldn’t help but giggle, the sound bubbling up between the kiss as you leaned back just enough to look into his eyes. his brows were furrowed slightly, lips parted, eyes wide and blinking like he was trying to piece together what just happened. “cho… did you really just moan? from a kiss?” you tease, your voice light and amused, but laced with affection.

his pale cheeks went crimson almost instantly. he blinked a few more times, then glanced away for a second like he was trying to find an escape route—only to shyly meet your gaze again, lips twitching into the faintest pout. “couldn’t help it… you’re so pretty,” he mumbled, almost inaudible, like the words physically pained him to admit.

but then he was leaning in again, this time hungrier, more desperate—kissing you like he needed it, like he’d been waiting forever for this. his hands slid lower, gripping your thighs as he pulled you into his lap in one swift motion. you gasped against his mouth as you straddled him, feeling the unmistakable press of him already hard beneath you. from a kiss. the thought made you giggle again, breathless against his lips.

“you’re ridiculous,” you murmured against his lips, unable to stop your smile.

you ran your fingers up into his hair, threading through the dark strands with gentle precision. he let out the softest whimper when you tugged lightly, undoing his space buns one at a time until his hair tumbled down around his face. “there,” you murmured, lips brushing his jaw. “you look better like this.”

he didn’t answer—just kissed you again like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

choso’s breath hitched as your fingers threaded through his now-loosened hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers like dark ribbons. his lips were back on yours, more forceful this time, tongue slipping past your parted lips with a need that had your thighs tightening around his hips. His hands roamed now—up your back, over your sides, then back down to your ass, kneading you through your clothes like he was trying to memorize every curve.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me…,” he muttered into your mouth, voice husky and low, barely restrained. his hips bucked upward instinctively, grinding into you, and you felt how hard he was now—thick and straining through the fabric of his pants, pressing perfectly against the heat between your legs.

all that from a kiss.

you smirked into the next one, rolling your hips slowly just to hear the broken little gasp he gave. “you’re so easy, cho,” you teased, nipping at his bottom lip. “didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already like this?”

he whined. whined. the sound went straight to your core. “I—fuck, I can’t help it when you’re on top of me like this,” he breathed, voice shaking. “feels like i’m gonna lose it.”

your hands slid down his chest, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt. you pushed it up and over his head, baring his pale torso, the lean muscles of his abdomen flexing under your touch. you leaned down, trailing your lips down his neck, along his collarbone, and then down his chest—each kiss leaving him twitching, panting softly, desperate for more.

when you finally reached his belt, your eyes flicked up to meet his. he looked dazed, completely fucked-out already, even though you’d barely touched him. “can I?” you asked, your voice lower now, soft but deliberate.

he nodded so fast it was almost pathetic. “please,” he whispered, hands trembling slightly as he rested them on your hips.

you unbuckled his belt slowly, teasing him with the drag of your fingers as you undid the button and zipper. his breath caught in his throat as you slipped your hand inside, finding him hot, thick, and already leaking. you wrapped your fingers around him through his boxers first, just enough pressure to make his hips jerk up into your palm.

“fuck,” he groaned, head falling back against the couch, throat exposed and flushed. “that feels—shit, that feels so good.”

you grinned, leaning in to kiss up his neck again. “you’re so sensitive,” you whispered, stroking him just a little faster now. “makes me wonder how fast I could make you cum if I really tried…”

he looked at you then, eyes half-lidded, needy, and already hazy with lust. “try me,” he dared, voice rough.

your hand worked him slowly, deliberately, fingers gliding along his length with just enough friction to keep him teetering on the edge. choso was falling apart beneath you, hands gripping your hips like they were the only things anchoring him to the moment. his thighs tensed under yours, breath hitching every time your thumb passed over his tip, smearing the slick precum that had already soaked through the front of his boxers.

“f-fuck, don’t stop—please don’t stop,” he panted, voice so raw it made you ache for him.

you leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “you’re this desperate from just a hand?” you teased, tongue flicking out to taste the heat of his skin. “haven’t even touched you properly yet, and you’re already begging.”

his whole body shuddered.

“y-you don’t understand,” he groaned, trying to buck up into your palm but you pressed him down with your weight. “you’re—god, you’re perfect. I can’t—ngh—think straight when you’re on me like this.”

you nipped at his neck, loving the way his voice broke when you sucked a mark just under his jaw. he gasped again, his breath catching in his throat, and his hands moved to cup your ass, squeezing gently, then a little harder, as if grounding himself in the feel of you.

“you’re so worked up,” you murmured, your voice a low purr. “all flushed and twitchy for me. how long have you been thinking about this?”

he didn’t answer right away—just looked at you like he was caught in a trance, pupils blown wide, lips parted. “…since the first time you touched my hair,” he said finally, so quietly it was nearly a confession. “when you said it looked better down. I—fuck, I wanted you so bad I couldn’t even look at you the same after that.”

your heart gave a flutter, warmth blooming in your chest even as you kept your rhythm steady around him. you leaned down again, kissing him softer this time, slower—tongue dragging lazily against his, savoring the taste of him while your hand kept teasing every reaction from his body.

he groaned into your mouth, every sound he made needy and open and real. his hands wandered, moving under your shirt now, spreading warmth along your skin with his palms as they slid up your back. when he found the clasp of your bra, he hesitated—but only for a second.

“can I?” he whispered, his forehead pressed to yours.

you nodded, heart pounding. “yeah. go ahead.”

he unclasped it with shaky fingers, letting the fabric fall loose between your bodies. the moment your chest was bare to him, his eyes went wide with awe, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. he didn’t even go for them right away—just stared, mouth parted, hands resting respectfully at your waist like he didn’t trust himself.

“you’re…” he exhaled sharply. “you’re everything.”

your breath caught—he said it with such sincerity, such reverence, that it stole your teasing right out from under you. you leaned down again, brushing your chest against his just to feel the way he gasped, the way his hands finally moved to cup your breasts with trembling care.

you sighed, letting yourself melt into his touch, kissing him again—longer, deeper, slower now. like you were both soaking in the closeness, letting the hunger burn without rushing to extinguish it.

your hips rocked against his slowly, lazily, just enough friction to keep the tension tight between you both, your slick panties dragging over his cock still trapped beneath his boxers. he whimpered into your mouth.

“if you keep doing that,” he rasped, “i’m gonna cum in my pants.”

you giggled against his lips, eyes glinting. “maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

you kept your rhythm steady, rocking your hips against him in smooth, deliberate rolls. every movement made him whimper, his cock twitching helplessly beneath you, still trapped between the tight heat of your clothed core and the damp fabric of his boxers. his fingers dug into your waist like he was barely holding on, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted as soft, broken sounds spilled out of him with every grind.

“god,” he choked out, forehead pressing to your shoulder now, breath hot against your skin. “i’m—fuck—i’m not gonna last.”

you smiled, slow and wicked, dragging your nails up the back of his neck and into his loose hair. “you really gonna cum just like this?” you whispered, your voice dripping with amusement. “still fully dressed, cock not even out? that desperate for me?”

he moaned—loud, unfiltered, desperate—and you felt his hips jerk up beneath you.

“you are, aren’t you?” you continued, rocking down just a little harder this time, letting the head of his cock catch right where you were wettest. “all that talk, all that brooding, and now look at you. hard and panting under me like a fucking virgin.”

“I—I c-can’t—” he stammered, his voice dissolving into another strangled gasp as you leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“gonna cum in your boxers just from me grinding on you, choso? Is that how fucking pathetic you are?”

his whole body tensed, and he let out the most broken, wrecked sound you’d ever heard—something between a moan and a sob—as his cock pulsed and throbbed against your soaked panties, warmth spilling out in thick, hot spurts into his boxers. his grip on you turned desperate, clutching you to him like he was falling apart. his breath came in short, stuttering gasps, face buried in your neck, his whole body trembling with the intensity of it.

“oh my god,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I—I came. I didn’t mean to, I—fuck, I couldn’t stop—”

you giggled again, not unkindly, just amused and delighted by how absolutely ruined he was. you pulled back slightly to look at him, and the sight made your stomach flip: his flushed cheeks, messy hair sticking to his forehead, eyes wide and glassy with embarrassment and overstimulation. he looked dazed, like he couldn’t believe it had actually happened.

“already made a mess, huh?” you cooed, gently brushing your fingers through his hair. “poor thing. came so fast I didn’t even get to touch you properly.”

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, genuinely flustered, still trying to catch his breath. “I just… I couldn’t take it. you’re too much.”

you kissed his jaw, slow and tender, fingers still tangled in his hair. “aw,” you murmured, grinning, “you made such a mess.”

he groaned—half from embarrassment, half from overstimulation—and let his head fall back against the couch. “I can’t believe I came like that,” he muttered, eyes fluttering shut. “didn’t even get to touch you...”

[theyluvlyss]

𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬...

I saw sinners (twice)...

I don't even know where to start.

I have so many thoughts swirling through my head at such a rapid speed that I can't control.

it's all a jumbled mess of emotions, think pieces, and of course, possible plots/ideas for fics.

I do plan to watch it a third-fourth-fifth-millionth time the moment I get the chance to, and when I do, the plan is to start posting ... STUFF, idk, some of everything (but nothing is set in stone, though, because y'all know me - my upload speed isn't known for being the fastest in the west🥴).

but until then, send some requests in my inbox for me to look at‼️PLEASE‼️, and in due time, they'll get written.

REAL QUICK BEFORE YOU DO THAT, THO, SOME BOUNDARIES, because as much as i'm usually and typically down for writing whatever/taboo themes, i'm already starting to notice some of y'all cuttin' up and acting a fool sumn' REAL FOUL on here about this movie/these characters...

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

- NO, I will not do incest or (specifically in this case/fandom) stepcest (other fandoms I write for are free game - minus actual incest ofc - unless I decide to change my mind and state otherwise idk lol).

- speaking of taboo, though, I will do age gaps (nothing illegal, though, get outta here with that). it's vampire media - if you're coming into it expecting a lack of some questionable gaps, then maybe vampirism isn't for you lmao.

- the reader will be black/black-coded a lot of the time (unless requested/specified otherwise, but also, don't get pissy if I turn down something I don't like) (a.k.a., stay out of my inbox if you can't handle the fact that not everything is about/focused on white ppl).

- I can... try to do modern au's ?? won't be very good at them, fair warning, but it definitely helps if you get creative, and i'm always looking for ways to improve my craft :).

- I will write for...

the twins (obvi) stack (elias) & smoke (elijah) (fair warning, though, i'm picky with plotlines - i've never been an MBJ girly, but i'm IN LOVE with these twins personalities and his portrayal of them, so they might be a little hard for me to write sometimes, might not be other times - my apologies🥲🙏🏽).

bo chow (I could be living in the next town over by train, and i'd STILL find a way to get my ass into this man's shop every single day so I could catch a glimpse of this fine babe😻).

remmick (he's a vampire with a sexy southern-irish accent and a sexy face; need I say more😌?).

maybe sammie (preacher boy)?? (😃✋🏽give me something really good to work with, and i'll see what I can do lol).

and NONE OF THE KLAN MEMBERS,,,

without filter, evil lyssa™ ahead,,, 🥰kys🥰 if you're genuinely out here trying to excuse fucking/writing about fucking a literal kkk member. if all it takes is a deep-voiced southern, "hey, baby" for your morals to escape you, you're a weak minded slut with no backbone, and if you don't like that, get tf up or stay pressed🫶🏽 (notsayingitwasn'tsexyintheheatofthemoment/thewayitwasfilmed, itwas, butagain... STAND UP🗣‼️).

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

anyways🥰, with that being said and evil lyssa™ gone, go ahead and rack my inbox up :D !! i'll maybe probably idk be back with some think pieces regarding the movie and its symbolizms/meanings, and some thirst pieces regarding how fine everybody is♡.

'til then, byeeeee /ᐠ^3^マ/ !!

[pieandflannel]

Hi, your angst hit me hard, not gonna lie, and I was wondering if you are able to write like a part 2 of it where they reunite in heaven, maybe make it a little bit fluffy, idk, what ever your up to, it was so good, I literally had to look in a different direction so I won't cry, thank you 🥰

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ stairway to heaven ☁️

pt.2 to talking to the moon

⟢ ₊⊹ ✧ ₊⊹｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡˚ ₊⊹｡ ʚ ⛥ ɞ ｡⊹₊ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ˚ ⋆ ｡⊹₊ ✧ ⊹₊ ⟢

pairing: dean winchester x gn!reader

summary: due to an unexpected accident you reunite with dean quicker than you expected

cw: angsty fluff, themes of death, cliche idea of heaven, mention of car crash. reference to season 15 (spoiler alert!), special guests (sam, bobby)

word count: 2k

julia yaps: i am so sorry it took me ages to answer your request, my brain refused to work on this sad topic, hope you enjoy this tho! 🥺

────────── ୨ৎ ──────────

you slowly open your eyes only to be greeted by the blinding brightness of nothingness. you squint and rub your eyes in an attempt to get them used to the light that surrounded you.

you managed to get up, wobbling a bit in your tracks before dusting yourself off. where the hell were you? you thought to yourself.

curiosity got the best of you so you started walking ahead of you, trying to explore the place, the bright seemingly empty place with nothing but fluffy cloud-like mist or fog. as you move forward your eye caught a glimpse of something shiny but in order to get to it you had to go up a flight of stairs.

“hello?” you called out, hoping to find someone with some kind of answers, any explanation as to what this place was. there was no response whatsoever, dead silence.

the first step you took onto the stairs felt elevating, and then the rest of them was a piece of cake. as you reached the top, you were welcomed by an enormous golden gate, the excruciatingly gorgeous details carved into every single inch, immediately catching your eye.

you tried to have a closer look at it all, lifting your hand up to gently caressing the gold with your fingertips. at that motion, the pearly gates started opening up with a tiny creaking sound, as if they needed a bit of oil on the hinges.

the sudden movement of the giant gate startling you slightly, but as they open up enough for you to walk through them, you took your chance in trying to explore the place further. as you took a step inside the scenery suddenly flipped.

it’s as if you were teleported to another place. a very beautiful place though, this must be a dream obviously, you thought to yourself. which would explain your chill attitude towards all the exploration without feeling the need to hold a knife or gun in your hand. that feeling of freedom and safety felt so refreshing, considering that most your existence you fought for your life or others lives, as a hunter.

the sound of leaves and twigs crunching under your boots echoed throughout the mountains. birds cooing and crickets chirping, the fresh but warm breeze tickling your face as the golden rays of sunlight shined through the trees. you stopped for a second to enjoy the beautiful landscape in front of you, the different shades of greens and browns all combined into an amazing view that contrasted with the clear blue sky with barely any clouds.

you started hearing a familiar bark in the distance, the sound getting closer and closer until you noticed miracle, dean’s dog that you took care of after his death, running towards you.

“miracle?! come here boy, c’mere!” you called out to him in your high pitched voice that you always used on dogs, patting your thighs encouraging him to run towards you. you knelt down with open arms and before you knew it miracle was all over you, licking your face, jumping up and down with happiness that he’s seeing you. you couldn’t help but giggle, ruffling his hair. “oh what are you doing here all alone boy?” you asked him as if he was going to answer. a big smile on your face, it felt like you haven’t seen him in years. odd.

you were so occupied with petting and playing with miracle that you didn’t even notice someone standing in your line of vision. you wondered who the boots belonged to, maybe this certain someone could help you find out where you were?

your eyes slowly scanned up their body. biker boots, jeans, green jacket, burgundy flannel, black tshirt and then– there it was, the face of a man that owned your heart. none other than dean winchester himself.

dean had a big ol’ smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he was clearly as happy as miracle to see you, if not more.

“dean?” you exclaimed as you got up from your knees and jumped into his arms, nearly tripping him over while at it. he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent. his embrace was tight, you could feel all those years of longing spill into the hug. and of course you returned with the same energy, your grip on his jacket making your knuckles turn white, you didn’t want to let him go, especially if it was a dream that would eventually come to an end, and you’d have to wake up.

“is it really you?” you asked in disbelief, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked up at him. dean nodded with the smile you missed oh so much. you let out a sigh of relief before pulling him in for a soft but passionate kiss, your hands cupping his jaw, all these years of yearning and longing spill into the kiss, from both sides, not just yours. you pull away with a smile “i can’t believe i’m finally having a dream about you”

dean’s smile slowly disappeared at your words, and a worried expression replaced it. you noticed his sudden shift. “what is it?” you asked with a small head tilt. dean looked away for a second before meeting your eyes again.

his expression soft and empathetic, “i don’t know how to tell you this but-“ he started off but before he could finish you cut him off.

“oh my god, sam?!” you squealed running up to him and giving him a big hug, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, “thank god you’re okay, i was starting to get worried that-“ sam started but dean give him a quick hand sign to shut up. you frowned at his words, this dream is getting a little weird, you thought.

you pulled away from the hug, looking at sam confused. “worried that what? guys.. why are you acting so odd?” you began to question. you turned to look at dean who had a mixed expression, he sure as hell was glad to see you but concerned about how you’ll react to what they were about to tell you.

“dean!” you whined softly trying to get him to talk.

dean looked at sam and gave him a nod, “i think it’s best if sam told you..”

you frown in confusion, getting slightly scared. “tell me what?” you gave dean a glance before turning to face sam. now you demanded an answer.

sam shifted slightly on the spot, he took a deep breath, “do you remember what happened?” he looked into your eyes with a deep emotion that you couldn’t quite read. you squinted your eyes a little, “no.. i-“ you tried to go back to what happened before you arrived here. you assumed this was dreamland so you tried to remind yourself where did you fall asleep.

the two men let you figure it out on your own, at it would have been best for you to. your frown turned into a face of panic, not being able to remember the part where you lay down in bed or rest your head on the leather seat of the impala.

“i don’t-“ you started tearing up as the sudden flash of memory came back to you. the memory of two bright headlights of a transportation truck getting closer and closer to the side of the impala. “we were in the car..” you explained what you finally remembered.

“and.. a big truck was heading too quick on a crossroad..” as you say that out loud it all hits you like the truck did. you gasped, looking up into sam’s eyes with devastation in yours. you covered your mouth in pure shock. “we got hit.. on the side, the car tipped” your voice trembling.

sam nodded, “we.. didn’t survive to impact, i’m sorry..” he added with an empathetic tone as if he didn’t die himself, you let out a soft sigh as a stray tear rolled down your cheek. you felt dean’s hand gently rubbing your back in an attempt to sooth you. “we died in a car crash..?” you asked in disbelief, deep down hoping that you misheard or maybe misunderstood, sam gave you a hesitant nod. “..wow” was all you could vocalise as the information sank in.

you cleared your throat, “so this is..” you tried to say it out loud but you couldn’t spit it out, denial creeping up on you.

“you’re in heaven sweetheart” dean stepped in, he knew this was a hard pill to swallow and that you’d need time to accept that you’ve died, along with sam and miracle. you let out a broken chuckle as tears filled your eyes. dean pulled you back into a hug, his hand rubbing your back in a slow, calming motion. his chin resting on the top of your head.

for a long minute, you say nothing. you just let dean hold you.

“honestly didn’t think we’d end up here after all the shit we’ve done” you broke the silence with a joke, trying to distract yourself with lighthearted humour. you heard the two men chuckle softly at your words.

you sniffled and wiped your tears away with your sleeve. “at least we are all together now right?” you tried to see the positive side of it all, even if it was hard.

“yeah, we are” dean mumbled into your hair, a soft smile on his face. once he felt your body gradually relaxing, tension disappearing, he slowly let go of you. and instead he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand.

“now how bout we go say hi to bobby” he suggested as he gently shook your hand in his, a smile curving on his face. he couldn’t take his emerald green eyes off you, his heart thumping in his chest at how happy he was to finally reunite with you, his true love.

you nodded enthusiastically.

dean whistled, “come on boy, let’s go” he called to miracle, and then the four of you walked towards bobby’s cabin.

you had so much questions to ask about this place, but you knew not to throw them all at once at dean. “so.. this is how heaven looks like, huh? so not what i expected”

dean smiled, the corners of his eyes scrunching slightly, looking up at the mountains and trees. “yeah, jack made sure to make this place as peaceful as possible, and where everyone could be together, not just isolated in their own little memory for eternity” dean explained.

“jack did a terrific job with this place” sam added, casually admiring the nature scenery as you walked down the path that lead to bobby’s place.

“he really did” you agreed, you glanced at dean with a smile before looking around, taking in the beauty of this place.

“you three idjits better not walk all over my petunias, or i’ll rock salt you with my shotgun” you heard bobby yell from his porch as he sat in his rocking chair. his threat lacking the hostility, your giggle making bobby smile.

“well i’ll be darned..” bobby stood up from his chair, looking all happy to see you. you strolled quickly towards him to give him a hug. “hey bobby”

“so.. gardening, huh bobby?” sam teased with a cheeky little grin.

“what? it’s calming, clears your head and it lowers your blood pressure” he explained seriously.

“bobby you know you can’t die from high blood pressure in heaven, right?” dean chuckled, joining into teasing the older man.

“shut up” bobby muttered.

the interaction felt like you got taken back in time, back to bobby’s house during the festive season, teasing and bickering like a family at a table full of home cooked food with a football game or shitty hallmark movie playing in the background.

you had a feeling you’ll be okay, and you were. because now you were all together. safe and retired from the dangerous job that brought you guys all together in the first place.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @bruisedfig @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @rositaslabyrinth @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @cupidzbunny @heartrendercastiel @sunnyteume @mrsanakinwinchesterpoldark @krabog @that-stanford-girlie @pwin098 @tendertulip @honeyyxxbee @rerejunebug

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© diver by @cafekitsune <3

[foryoupeko]

perpetually in love with your art style... do you have any tips? your anatomy is amazing!!!

Thank you very much! Uhhh I'll try give some tips.

I have aphantasia (the inability to visualize things in my head), so it's hard for me draw. Most people visualize what they want in their head and put it on paper, meanwhile I can't conceptualize it at all. That's why my art style developed from looking at a lot of references!

Whenever I see a style I like, I freehand trace it (meaning I try recreate the drawing on a blank canvas).

I think my current style is heavily influenced by Hiro Mashima because I tried to copy his art style for four years.

I think the key point to understand tho

Tracing is okay for learning, but either be transparent you're heavily referencing something or make it transformative.

They way to find your art style is realizing you don't have to copy every aspect. Just copy the aspects you like. For example, I don't make my boobs as big as Hiro Mashima. And I like having much more eye shape diversity than him.

I would reference pictures so much, that eventually I wouldn't need a reference and could just draw it from memory. I feel like instead of drawing I mostly use muscle memories \(-_-)/ That's why I can draw so fast.

I would say my current art style is probably: 60% Fairy tail, 20% Pokemon, 5% Nanatsu no Taizai, 4% One Piece, 1% BNHA. It's just a whole love letter to all the medias I loved.

--

If you're referencing something but it's not coming out right, I like to put my drawing over the reference to see what's wrong. That helps me a lot with anatomy. Like - Oh I keep making my eyes too big. Or - I need to remember the stretch the leg out more.

I don't like tracing right over a drawing because I feel like it doesn't teach you the right skills how to recreate that drawing method.

You should also experiment with your art style. This is an example of drawing Peko like someone from Gachiakuta. I don't plan on changing my art style to be exactly like Gachiakuta but I do like the hatching and posing they do. When you experiment you'll realize what aspects of your art you don't want to lose and which one needs to be improved.

Anyways, there are a lot of ways to learn! Youtube, Pinterest, etc. This is just best for me.

Good luck with your art journey!

[smilingcrittersuniversityau]

snow looks awesome! But it's also very gut wrenching seeing him hiding his pain too

It was cool seeing his past self beating the crap out of elias tho

Tho he's mentioned a few times, i already like his design and lore

YIPPEE!!!

I'm glad you like him! I do plan to make him involved in the story as a character rather than just being mentioned by the others

A fun fact about him, he believes heavily in redemption and forgiving people when they hurt him. But after Elias blinded him, he finds it hard to feels guilty for his anger at him mainly because he'd always dreamed of being a professional soccer player and now his dream is nearly impossible

[warriorcatsautistic]

never forgiving Tall Shadow for the “she was just a kittypet” line after clear sky murders bumble, sorry. Same with wind runner, I can adore the girl bosses girlbossing but unfortunately tall shadow still suffers from sexist writing (forfeits leadership to the leading man so she can devote time to care for her family) and while I like the ‘cautious’ characterization of her, it turns into xenophobia towards gorse and wind when the mountain cats are literally settling on their land. If wind is a stronger leader than tall shadow why does it matter that she’s not from the mountains? she knows this place better than you and this is her goshdarn house.

tall shadow is cool tho I just find it hard to appreciate characters who got turned into mouthpieces for how much bumble deserves to get hit.

As far as female character appreciation in DOTC, I’m a huge fan of Fallen Feather and also Sparrow Fur! iirc sparrow fur gets leadership eventually which i am REJOICING over

also, massive Star Flower enjoyer, although this is really out of spite because I witnessed a gross amount of Star Flower hate a couple years ago because of her betrayal, meanwhile I was sitting there like “oh sick they put a femme fatale in here- wait clear sky likes WHAT about her? Clear Sky does WHAT with her? His son’s ex? okay, well I guess she’s an adult- SLASH DOES WHAT TO HER? Star Flower is my cat now actually guys, none of the DOTC cast deserve her I’m taking this fluffy little liar and wrapping her up in a blanket and taking her home with me and she will trick me into feeding her too many times by looking at me really sweetly with her weird little eyes.

Listen i understand all the dotc haters I hear you

I understand the river ripple fans, I see you

I understand the clear sky haters, I feel you

But where are the tall shadow fans??? She’s literally one of the best characters in the whole arc, where is the love???

[sun-turner]

It's those screwballs again

[methoughtsphantom]

Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.

Still, the scene was ridiculous.

On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.

Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.

Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.

Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.

Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.

Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)

And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,

Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:

Danny: Just don’t let them in

Jason: ??

Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.

Jason: …I can?

Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.

Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?

Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.

Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)

Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.

(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)

Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.

Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)

Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.

Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.

It’s literally just Bruce.

Time to call Constantine, i guess.

[geolato]

a year and a bit too late maybe, but here you go, have a nun and a demon boy

please don't repost these anywhere thank youu

Extra!

(edit: idk wtf happened with this gif why is tumblr blurring her!!! let her shine in all her pixelated glory!!! istg)

[sophtzs2]

#07 time travel! I wasn't sure if time travel literally meant them traveling through time or just them in other time periods, but since I love period pieces, I did one of my favorite dynamics...princess and knight! (I got the idea from @/morifinwess on Twitter) :33 (couldn't find the original artist of the ref img :/ if anyone recognizes it, feel free to tell)

[oriixxc]

heatstroke

[ricky-mortis]

Hatchetfield @femslashfortnight Day 2: Retro