#or what the fic calls for idk

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[noodles-and-tea]

Your Merthur fanart is amazing! I LOVE the way you capture their expressions!!! If you've got the spoons might I request Arthur seeing Merlin in a wedding dress and being absolutely poleaxed because since when was Merlin hot- (they're idiots in love your honor). You capture their entire like. Fundamental dynamic SO WELL; your art is expressive and beautiful and I love it.

Merlin likes t help where he can

[nariism]

neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.

uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.

you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.

he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.

however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"

neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.

it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.

the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.

“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.

it's far from over.

he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.

neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.

you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.

it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.

he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.

the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.

not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.

"what are you doing? i am going to be late."

"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.

"you have to do my hair."

"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."

your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.

no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.

but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.

you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[deaconusdelirium]

ᰔᩚ Older bf!Simon indulging his kid at heart

-

Simon never really minded the fact that his childhood was stripped from him, it happened, it’s over, what can he do about it? Nothing. Best move on to more important things. He thinks about it, but it no longer effects him. He’s human, so at some point he’s going to watch a kid play to their hearts content like it was a foreign thing to him

Simon who raises a brow at every little thing you do when he finally starts to love you. Watching you stare at the toy section a little too long before picking out a coloring book and even longer at the crayon section. The basket in the crook of his elbow as he crossed his arms.

“What’s the difference, luvie? They all color the same” he huffed quietly, earning a soft glare in return. “Oh hush, they’re not the same. See? These ones are pastels, these ones have glitter, this one has forty colors-” you go on as he rolls his eyes and stares off down the aisle. His attention immediately being brought back as you all of a sudden stop. Then he seen what you were eyeing. The colored pencils. He looked at them and then at you before sighing and walking over. Grabbing them and show them to you. “What’s the deal with this one?” He asks, trying to find the difference yet again between the crayons and then pencils. You step forward and then smile almost sadly. “I’ve never really had colored pencils, always seen them but my parents told me they’d go in the trash one way or another” you replied. He didn’t even think twice before putting them in the basket

Simon who watches you later on that night color in the first page that stands out to you. Seeing you color outside the lines but never really seeming to mind. “Inside the lines, darlin” he mumbled as he laid in bed. One arm propping him up as you laughed softly, “oh hush, leave me alone. I like it” you smiled, “you like it messy?” He asked, “well… when you put it that way it sounds sloppy. But everyone always got mad that I colored outside the lines. Found being too perfect was always boring and never really fun. But I like this” you leaned back, looking at the paper as he nodded. Picking up a pencil and then gave a small scribble to the paper.

Simon who finds comfort in walking beside you down a sidewalk. At first he was confused, one second you both were walking and the next he was yanked back, “what’s wrong?” He looked around for any sign of trouble, then looked down at you, realizing you were counting your steps in the large rectangles in the concrete. “I stepped four steps in the last block, if I take another step, this one will be five” you muttered. Deciding not to question it, he picked you up, setting you in the next block and started walking along side you again. Now every time you walk together, he counts how many steps you take in each one, stopping and waiting for you if you need to jump a little or if you mess up your numbers, “you’re at three, luv”

Simon who pretty much never questions anything you do anymore, you want something? He’ll get it for you. Even if it’s a little bottle of bubbles, he’ll grab an extra bottle just so that if you ever run out, you’ll have another. He won’t admit it, but likes seeing which bubble will last the longest before popping

Simon who goes shopping with you and helps you pick out a stuffed animal, which turns into stuffed animals. “Oh- look at this one Si, this one’s a seal” you picked up a chunky looking stuffed animal. Giving a squish before holding it out to Simon, who gives a squish and then takes it into his large calloused hands. Scrunching it a few times and lays his head on it, then nods. Looking at the others, “look at this one, babe, it’s a shrimp” he chuckles, picking it up and showing you. A smile blossoming on your face as you grab it. You both going home with stuffed animals of your own, who later get turned into cuddle buddies. Sedrick the Shrimp and Samuel the Seal

Simon who will bring you your favorite lunch with a nice drink on the side to your work. Walking in pass the reception desk and into your office, seeing that you’re on a call, he holds your food so he can personally give it to you as he walks around the place. Mindlessly playing with a few little trinkets you got lying around. He puts the bag of food between his chest and arm, the drink in his hand while his other squeezes the chicken stress ball. Giving a small chuckle as its eyes pop out with every squeeze. Then he finds another little toy. A crane of sort that has a string attached to the tip that’s holding a ring at the end. A small hook on the beam as he tries to get the ring onto the hook. Giving a quiet “yes” as he finally gets it. Then hands your food over with a kiss when you’re done

Simon who stays up with you one night, not having to worry about waking up early for work. So he has you get up, telling you he’s hungry and that he wants to get something to eat. Then when you tell him you have to get ready. He protests, pulling your hand and tells you that he’s not going out to impress anyone and that he’d rather you be comfortable than walking around fully dressed with your clothes you wanted to wear tomorrow, just to get fast food. Tells you that he feels better when you feel good. Both of you don’t have to worry about the burdens of adult life that early morning

Simon who goes to the Lego section with you- well, more like he drags you to the Lego aisle. Telling you that he likes this one he seen a few days ago. Pretends to look for it when he made it up as an excuse so you two could actually look for something to build together. “Look at this one love, it’s a picture frame” he holds up a box, showing you. “I like that one, but I also like this camera one” you also hold up the box, he looks between the two. Eyes darting to the side before something catches his eye. “Baby, look. These are bracelets, you put little legos on them”. He immediately grabs the box, dropping them all into the cart, not even minding the price it’ll come out to. “We should look at the friendship bracelets” he buys you the bracelets anyways, going home and building the legos together, putting a Polaroid of you two beneath the camera one. Putting a picture in the picture frame one, and you both wearing the lego bracelets

Simon who picks out baby clothes, not boring bland pink or blue ones. No, those are too cliche, no, he wants something that will make those beautiful eyes he knows your little baby have, pop out. Even if he has to special order a few clothes and blankets, he’ll do it. Little onesies that have pictures of Sedrick and Samuel that were obviously custom made by the best and most liked shop.

Simon who signs your little one up for whatever their heart desires. They want to try soccer? He’s going to buy them a small goal and a ball so they can practice in the backyard of your home. They see an event coming into town and they want to go? He’s more than willing to take them. They want money for a book fair? He knows the teachers are assholes so he waits until they get home so he can go back with them. Helping them pick out whatever their little heart wants. Erasers, book marks, little toys, it’s all theirs. They want extra cuddles for the heck of it? He’s bringing you down with the two of them.

Simon who ends up healing his childhood through you and his kid. Even if he was a little embarrassed about it all in the beginning, he realized that he’d rather make memories than skip them being shy and hurting you and your kids’ feelings.

(He totally has his own stash of toys and his own coloring books he’s accumulated over the years he’s known you. He even has his own blankets with hero’s and stuffed animals of his own) ᰔᩚ

-

not really proof read, but you get the idea. Just had this in my head for a bit

[fumifooms]

Homegrown

Thistle and Delgal - Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

^ Fernando Pessoa / Killing Flies, Michael Dickman / A Brother Named Gethsemane, Natalie Diaz / Antigonick, Anne Carson v Oats We Sow, Gregory and the Hawk

[sgt-tombstone]

I’m so tempted to write a shifter fic where Ghost is a big cat (I’m thinking black panther or something similar) shifter… but he doesn’t know it

He thinks that he’s not a shifter at all because he only shifts in his sleep and even when he’s startled awake, he shifts back in a split second, before his brain can even register not being human

It makes him a fantastic sniper, because he has better vision than a human, even if he doesn’t realize it. It gives him excellent hearing, but he doesn’t know that it’s better than everyone else’s (at least, not to a suspicious degree). His eyes flash in the dark, but he’s never seen it because he avoids mirrors like the plague. He thinks that his fast reflexes are just army trained instead of innate. He has a strong prey drive, but he reasons that it’s just his job as a CT operative; they hunt for a living. He genuinely does not know that he’s a shifter, and the rest of the 141 refuse to tell him (Price because having a big cat prowling around base would be worse than Ghost already is… Soap and Gaz because they have a three-year-long bet to see how long it’ll take him to figure it out)

Soap is some sort of dog shifter (because I’m basic like that) and Ghost makes fun of him all the time, both for being a shifter and for being a stereotype of his animal self. Gaz always dies laughing and Ghost can tell that Soap is holding back laughter too, but he can never figure out why…

[acoraxia]

i’ve been wanting to collect official spideypool comics

[cyancees]

read a fic where they were girls and had to draw cus yuri 🔛🔝

[capricioussun]

2am post jumpscare

[aychama]

I was wondering, does king Narinder have ever had any funny episode with catnip in his life?

-Im getting the warnings of becoming sick so no art but you guys can have a little idea I have!-

"What is going on? Why is everyone running out of the building?" Lambert looks to the panicked palace staff.

"The king has accidentally sniffed catnip!" One maid yells as she rushes out the door.

"Huh? Why is that a problem? Is he alergic or something?" Lambert grabs the arm of a fleeing butler, not understanding the urgency. Their grip is firm on the poor butler.

"The problem is, whoever sees him in that state gets punished the day after!" The butler answers as another maid stops by the two to warn them.

"Years ago one had seen him lick his own hand and the next day the poor butler was forced to clean horse shit with bare hands!" She says it like its the grosest thing in the world.

"And another maid had heard him purr and my god.... she was almost fired!" The butler pries Lambert's grip off of his arm as he speaks.

"That just sounds like he is embarrased of the state he is in?" Lambert understands the situation of everyone fleeing as no one would want to be fired from the palace for such reasons, working at the palace pays well, but the situation was still too ridiculous for everyone to run away.

"Yea it- eeeee!" The butler and the maid hightail it as Narinder approaches them.

He picks Lambert up, they dont even protest (were they really this light for him to easily hoist them up?) as he brings them to the garden. The sun is still up but no one is around, everyone has fleed from the palace.He purrs and wraps his hands around Lambert, who wasnt wearing their armor. He cuddles them, burying his nose into their nape and licks wherever he gets his snuggly face on while lying down as the birds chirp and Lambert looks at the blue sky all stiff, not sure what to do in this unexpected turn of events.

"Oh im so dead tomorrow..." Lambert says outloud to no one, feeling dread in their gut while they are forcefully cuddled in grass. Their heart beats fast in their chest and they think it has to be because of fear.

His nose tickles...

The next day, however, when Narinder and Lambert run into eachother in the corridor, the morning sun hits Narinder's face in just the right angle for his face to be seen behind his veil and he is... blushing? He turns away before Lambert can properly see.

How weird, he would usually give them an order to follow him or something else.

Maybe he forgot. Cute.

[little-pondhead]

The Curse Of Hope

_

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[uhohdad]

I know how specific this might sound so don't please don't hesitate to let this ask brew for a bit!: I'm wondering how loser!König would fair with a southern transmasc reader? Someone who's clearly backwoods country,but also cuntry, ya know? Ain't much to do other than swim in the rivers if your lucky,or check out nature if your not wanting to see the small towns scattered between said nature. Love love love your writings ofc,keep up the amazing work!

This is incredibly specific. I love it. Okay here we go I hope this tickles your fancy. Prob could be enjoyed by everyone.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆ ・・・・

☆ Loser!König was intrigued with you right from the start. He’s never met anyone like you before.

☆ He feels so comfortable with you. It was like he could tell you anything, and you’d just nod along. Not even so much as quirking an eyebrow at the odd things he says as you wade your ankles into the creek, hunting for crawdads to make friends with, just for the fun of it.

☆ He felt like he was swept off his feet, it’s amazing how such a simple lifestyle can feel so… magical, so thrilling. A whirlwind adventure that’s makes him feel alive, but simultaneously gives him a cozy, relaxing warmth foreign to him.

☆ (He’s not really sure if it’s the lifestyle, or if it’s just you.)

☆ You were so down to earth, so genuine, and you’d accepted König for who he was. His infatuation with you started here, and snowballed rapidly, and before he knew it he was in too deep.

☆ Funny, too. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed this hard, this much. It’s always a good time with you.

☆ The stargazing is his favorite part. Konig’s fingers threaded together and resting on his waist. Lying in the bed of your shoddy old pickup truck, the stars clear and beautiful in the middle of no where.

☆ It’s still hard to keep his focus on the stars when you’re right next to him, your arms folded to use your hands as a pillow, shoe absentmindedly swirling as you soak in the night sky. He can’t help the way his eyes are lingering. How his head keeps tilting to admire you, taking you in as you lay.

☆ It’s the beer, he thinks. He’s had too much. Flushing his cheeks and giving him that warm feeling in his chest.

☆ No, maybe it’s the atmosphere. It’s so romantic out here, just you and him and the night sky.

☆ No, it’s definitely you.

☆ He wants to leave his old life behind, he wants to stay out here with you forever. He wants to chase this feeling, he wants to chase you.

☆ The air between you is electric. He can’t stop thinking about how he wants to touch you. How badly he wants to hold your hand, how he has the overwhelming urge to kiss you. As he stares at you, he can’t help but wonder if you feel it too.

☆ He’s thinking about you sliding on top of him, straddling him. Grinding down on him, teasing him, his hands on your hips as you revel in his needy whines and moans. He wants you to take him - right here, right now

☆ The thought alone is enough to bring his cock to attention.

☆ “See something you like, handsome?”

☆ A cheeky grin spreads thick as you side-eye him, watching him snap his head back to the night sky, as if that was going to save him, as if you haven’t been feeling the burn of his stare this entire time.

☆ You got him, successfully flustered him, he’s sure he’s ruined it.

☆ “Well, don’t play shy now.”

☆ He doesn’t even know what to say, tongue-tied and trying to put out the heat just under his skin, but he’s only fanning the flame.

☆ He’ll carefully meet your gaze, his mouth dry and his lips twisted in worry.

☆ “S’okay.”

☆ He gives a shaky nod, hoping it’s dark enough out here that you can’t see the glow on his cheeks.

☆ A hand slips from behind your head, elbow propped up on the ribbed tailbed, wrist limp as you offer your hand.

☆ Konig swallows, eyes wide and flitting between your hand and your eyes, twinkling as they reflect the stars.

☆ “Don’t make it weird, dude. Just hold my stupid hand.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・☆ ・・・・

ੈ✩

[thegnomelord]

POV: Demon Simon Ghost Riley who becomes your 'husband' through some shoddy occult shenanigans.

Simon is a fallen angel turned wrath demon. Once God's exalted blade, he is now one of the fiercest barons in Hell and second to none in the gladiatorial pits. Some ancient tales amongst the angels say his wings and hands had been dyed red with sinner blood long before he fell.

Go on, take the poor sinner's hand (it's not like you have a choice — death will not part you after all~)

No one touches the hunter (You) but Him

[reddamselette]

valgrace except its jason helping leo get ready for bed because leo's severely sleep deprived and has been awake for a couple days straight. and while they're getting ready for bed, leo just says, "you know, i really like you. like actually, really like you."

and jason is blushing, the tips of his ears are red as he tucks in leo, his movements suddenly clumsy from the confession and as he gets up to leave, leo grabs his hand and asks him to stay.

it was the first time they could sleep easily without any nightmares so when leo died, jason developed insomnia. and when jason died, leo's bed has never felt colder.