#reblogging the thing and stealing your tag

[redwinterroses]

Okay so lately I've seen two big discussions:

a) How content creators are "invading" fan spaces and interacting with fan content, and how they should know this isn't acceptable. How they certainly shouldn't interact with /neg content, especially in front of an audience, but even with positive things like fanart and memes they should keep it to themselves and either enjoy in silence or just stay away altogether

b) If you love a piece of art or a fic, comment on it! reblog it! Don't hide your appreciation in a private chat where the author never gets to see, here's a story about someone who decided to delete all their fics because they found out that they had a bunch of people enthusiastically chatting about them in a private discord but none of those people understood how much it means to an author or artist to get that kind of feedback directly

...Y'all seeing the problem here? Obviously, there is an extreme on each end of this spectrum. Yeah, I'm not a fan of a content creator taking fan content and using it to mock the fanbase (I'm looking at you, Steven Moffat) and obviously there is some discernment that authors etc need to have because if you read enough fic about your work there's a chance you can get accused of stealing ideas from your fans.

And at the other end, an author who finds out about a thriving discord screaming about their work but never gets any comments or direct feedback has every right to be frustrated and hurt by that. If they choose to stop writing for those "fans" then that is 100% their prerogative.

But you can't hold both extremes. You can't demand that CCs stay out of fandom spaces and never engage with the cringy or critical stuff -- fans put it out there to be seen, and CCs have every right to engage with things that are made about their content. And if you DO want to demand that, then you can't turn around and say "reblog, don't just like!" and "authors need your feedback! comments feed them! they deserve to know that you enjoyed what they put so much work into!"

The right to engage with people who read/view/enjoy your work doesn't go away when your audience reaches a certain perceived size. There is a nuanced conversation to be had about what's good for the mental health of a creator, and where fans can go too far, but generally speaking: if a fan puts it out into the world, there is literally no reason why the person they're a fan of should have to not engage. Creators who respect fandom hashtags and such are commendable, but that is not and should never be the expectation.

If you don't want someone to see it, don't put it on the internet, plain and simple.

Stop trying to gatekeep the people who gave you the storyworlds you're playing in to begin with. Sometimes they're going to be assholes about it, because humans are unfortunately like that. But that's their right, just like it's your right to create cringy memes and, shall we say, "wildly inventive" fic about the stories and characters you're borrowing from them. (And, important side note, it's also your right to stop being a fan of that franchise/person/concept if you don't like how they interact.)

Moral of the story: comment on fic, tag the art, and stop freaking out every time a CC sees your insane tier list that has their name on it.

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 7

Other Chapters:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I

Chapter 6

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen is getting ready to head to Austin for some time with his family, but wants to spend one last evening with Gabby. They settle in at his place, ordering takeout, and cuddling up on the couch. Then he invites Gabby to spend the night, enjoying one last evening together.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mentions of Alcohol, SMUT (Nudity, Missionary Position it's their first time...it may get more kinky later, I don't know yet. But there's nothing wrong with a little vanilla.)

A/N: So after the last chapter I've been writing this one basically non-stop. Normally I hit bumps along the way which is why it's usually 5-7 days between chapters. But I wrote this one in like two and didn't want to wait to post, so I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado

The days following their first breakfast together settled into a comfortable rhythm, as though Glen and Gabby had been a part of each other’s lives for much longer than a few weeks. They fell into an easy balance of spending time together while keeping up with their individual responsibilities. Some nights were spent at Gabby’s cozy apartment, the two of them cooking simple meals side by side, the radio playing softly in the background as they laughed about Glen’s inability to chop onions without tearing up. Other nights were at Glen’s place, where they sprawled on his couch, eating takeout straight from the containers and watching movies they only half-paid attention to, too absorbed in their conversation to care about the plot.

When they weren’t together, they stayed in touch. Gabby found herself smiling at the occasional texts Glen sent throughout the day—sometimes a photo of his dog napping in a patch of sunlight, other times a joke or comment about the podcast recording he’d just finished. In return, she sent him snapshots of her coffee-fueled study sessions, complete with exaggerated captions about the “thrilling life of a student.” It wasn’t overbearing or constant, just enough to remind them both that the other was thinking of them.

Despite the ease of their time together, neither pushed to define what was happening between them. They hadn’t taken things public—Glen’s fame adding a layer of complexity neither of them was eager to rush into—but there was an unspoken understanding that, for now, they were simply enjoying the moments they had. Each interaction felt natural, like the slow unfolding of something neither of them had expected but both were beginning to treasure.

By the end of Glen’s first week off, the lines between his world and Gabby’s had started to blur in small, significant ways. It wasn’t just that his spare toothbrush had found a spot in her bathroom or that his favorite blanket had been claimed as hers during their movie nights. It was the way they talked, the way they moved around each other, the way they found themselves looking forward to the next time without ever having to say it.

The hum of Gabby’s car engine filled the silence as she pulled into her apartment parking lot, her mind still replaying the events of her busy day. She was already planning on collapsing onto the couch with a bowl of cereal when her phone buzzed on the passenger seat. Picking it up, she smiled as Glen’s name lit up the screen.

Glen: Hey, you free tonight?

The message was simple, but she could practically hear his voice in her head, that mix of charm and warmth that made her stomach flip every time. She bit her lip, typing out a quick reply.

Gabby: I think I can squeeze you into my schedule 😉

His response was almost instant.

Glen: Good, because I was hoping to steal you for the evening. Come over?

She laughed softly, the exhaustion from her day momentarily forgotten.

Gabby: What’s the occasion?

A few dots appeared on the screen as he typed.

Glen: You. Me. One last quiet night before I head to Austin. No agenda, just us.

Gabby’s heart fluttered at the sincerity in his words. It was rare for someone to make her feel this... wanted. Not in a grand, sweeping way, but in the quiet, meaningful moments that reminded her how much she liked having him in her life.

Gabby: I’m on my way.

Sliding her phone back into her bag, she took a deep breath and shifted the car back into drive. A quiet night with Glen sounded like exactly what she needed.

Gabby pulled up to Glen’s house, the low glow of the porch light illuminating the familiar front door. Her heart skipped a beat as she grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and made her way up the steps. Before she could even knock, the door swung open, and Brisket came barreling toward her, tail wagging furiously.

“Hey, buddy!” Gabby crouched down, laughing as the dog nudged his head against her hands, soaking up all the attention she was more than happy to give. “Were you waiting for me, huh? Such a good boy!”

Glen leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a teasing smirk on his face. “Nice to see you too, babe,” he drawled, feigning offense.

Gabby glanced up at him, still scratching behind Brisket’s ears, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there.” She stood up, brushing her hands off on her jeans as she stepped closer to him.

Glen chuckled, shaking his head. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Before he could say anything else, Gabby slipped her arms around his waist, tilting her head up to look at him. “Hi.”

His teasing expression softened as he leaned down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “Hi,” he murmured back, his voice warm and low.

He dipped his head, their lips meeting in a slow, unhurried kiss, the kind that made the world outside his front door disappear. Brisket let out a little huff, circling at their feet as if to remind them he was still there. Gabby pulled back slightly, smiling against Glen’s lips.

“Looks like someone’s jealous,” she whispered.

Glen glanced down at the dog, who was now pawing at Gabby’s leg, clearly not done being the center of attention. 

“Can you blame him?” Glen asked, his lips quirking into a grin.

Gabby laughed, giving Brisket one last pat before Glen stepped aside to let her in. 

“Come on,” he said, resting a hand lightly on her back as they walked into the house. “I’ve got wine chilling and takeout on the way. Thought we could keep it low-key tonight.”

“Sounds perfect,” Gabby replied, feeling her shoulders relax as she slipped off her shoes.

The doorbell rang, cutting through their conversation. Brisket barked once, trotting toward the door, his tail wagging.

“That’ll be the food,” Glen said, brushing a hand against Gabby’s arm as he passed her.

He returned a moment later, balancing a stack of takeout containers in one hand while shutting the door with the other. Gabby watched as he brought the bags to the kitchen counter and began unpacking them, the familiar aroma of Thai food filling the room.

“What do I owe you?” she asked, stepping closer to the counter.

Glen glanced at her over his shoulder, his brows furrowing slightly as if the question surprised him. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Glen,” she said, folding her arms. “I mean it. I don’t want you—or me, for that matter—feeling like I’m taking advantage of you.”

He paused, turning to look at her fully. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve paid for everything so far,” she said, motioning to the takeout. “Dinner on our first date, every DoorDash order, everything. I don’t want it to seem like I’m just… letting you take care of everything.”

Glen leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as he considered her words. “You buy groceries when we cook at your place,” he pointed out.

Gabby tilted her head, giving him a skeptical look.

“What?” Glen asked, smirking now.

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”

His expression shifted, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. He stepped toward her, his hands settling lightly on her waist. 

“Gabby,” he said gently, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of her shirt. “I don’t think that at all. I wouldn’t have asked you over if I did.”

She let out a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly, but he wasn’t done. 

“Look,” he continued, “it’s still early, yeah. But these are our dates. I was raised that the guy is supposed to pay on the dates”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she raised a brow. “Supposed to?”

“Yup,” he said confidently, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

“That’s such an old school thing.” She rolled her eyes, earning a low chuckle from him.

“Wait a second,” he said, his tone teasing as he tilted his head at her. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

Gabby met his gaze, challenging. “What if I did?”

His grin widened, and without another word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. She gasped softly as his warm breath ghosted against her skin, his voice low as he murmured, “Then I might have to make you take it back.”

Her laugh turned into a quiet hum as his kisses deepened, his hands sliding to her lower back to pull her closer. She threaded her fingers into his hair, and before she could think, Glen’s hands lifted her onto the counter.

Glen’s lips moved against hers with a growing urgency, his hands steady on her hips as he pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. Gabby’s fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as her breath hitched.

“Glen,” she managed between kisses, her voice soft and a little breathless.

“Hmm?” he hummed against her lips, his hands trailing to her thighs.

“The food,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, though her hands didn’t leave his hair.

“What about it?” he asked, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting against hers as his hands tightened their hold on her.

“It’s going to get cold,” she pointed out, her tone half-hearted, as though she wasn’t entirely convinced it mattered.

Glen grinned, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth as he whispered, “I’m hungry for something else.”

Her laugh was soft and breathy, and she gave him a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated. “Glen,” she said again, her tone firmer this time, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

He groaned dramatically, letting his forehead drop to her shoulder as he sighed. 

“Fine,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to help her slide off the counter. “We can eat.”

Gabby smirked, smoothing her shirt as she stepped back toward the counter, her cheeks still flushed. “Thank you for your sacrifice.”

He shot her a playful glare as he grabbed the takeout containers, setting them on the counter with a bit more flair than necessary. 

“But just so we’re clear,” he said, his tone serious even as his lips quirked into a grin, “I’m coming back for dessert later.”

She didn’t respond, but the warmth in her smile and the quick glance she gave him said enough.

As they settled at the counter with their takeout containers spread out between them, the casual clinking of chopsticks and soft rustle of food filled the air. Glen cracked open the lid of his container and took a sniff. "Okay, this might be the best-smelling food I’ve ever had," he said, grabbing a generous bite.

Gabby raised an eyebrow as she poked at her dumplings. “You said that about the tacos we had last night.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it,” he shot back, his mouth full enough to make her wrinkle her nose.

They ate in comfortable silence for a moment before Glen leaned his chin on his hand, watching her. “So, what’s your guilty pleasure food?”

Gabby paused mid-bite, considering. “Hmm. Probably mac and cheese. But like, the boxed kind. The neon orange powder stuff. None of that fancy baked nonsense.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I knew you were secretly a five-year-old.”

She gave him a mock glare. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve had it Mr. Won’t Eat Cheese. What about you?”

“Easy,” he said, without hesitation. “Pop-Tarts. Strawberry. No frosting.”

“No frosting?” she exclaimed, looking genuinely horrified. “What kind of monster eats Pop-Tarts without frosting?”

“This kind,” he said proudly, tapping his chest. “They’re better that way.”

“You’re objectively wrong,” she declared, shaking her head in mock disbelief.

“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.” He shrugged, reaching for another bite of pad Thai.

“Or,” she countered, narrowing her eyes, “you’ll have to come over for breakfast sometime and let me prove you wrong.”

His brows lifted in interest. “You’re challenging me to a Pop-Tart showdown?”

“Absolutely,” she said with a confident nod. “Frosted strawberry will change your life.”

Glen laughed, the kind of laugh that felt easy and genuine. “Alright, deal. But don’t cry when you realize you’ve been living a lie.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, smirking. “We’ll see about that.”

The conversation drifted as they kept eating, dipping into lighter topics like movies they loved and places they wanted to visit someday. There was a warmth between them, the kind that made the night feel effortless, as though they’d been doing this for years rather than weeks.

When Gabby reached for the last dumpling, Glen swooped in with his chopsticks, snatching it right before she could.

“Hey!” she protested, staring at him in mock betrayal.

He grinned as he popped it into his mouth, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. “You snooze, you lose.”

“You’re the worst,” she said, though her smile betrayed her.

“And yet, here you are,” he replied, leaning back in his seat with a triumphant grin.

After dinner, Gabby stood and started gathering up the empty containers, stacking them neatly as Glen leaned back against the counter, watching her with a satisfied smile.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s no big deal,” she replied, waving him off as she carried the trash over to the bin. “You bought dinner, and wouldn’t let me pay for at least my share. So the least I can do is help clean up.”

She noticed a couple of dishes in the sink—a stray coffee mug and a plate from earlier in the day. Without hesitation, she rolled up her sleeves and started rinsing them off.

“Gabby,” Glen said, his tone warning, as he moved to stand behind her. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” she answered simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“This is my house,” he reminded her, stepping closer. “And my rules clearly state: no guests do chores.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so?”

“It is.” His voice held a playful firmness, but Gabby wasn’t one to back down easily.

“Well,” she said, turning back to the dishes and continuing to rinse, “I’m not a guest, technically. I’m more of a—what’s the term? Frequent flyer? That means the rule doesn’t apply to me.”

“Frequent flyer?” he repeated, amused. “You’re really stretching here, babe.”

“Call it what you want,” she quipped, reaching for the dish soap. “But I’m finishing these.”

Glen moved quickly, stepping close enough that she could feel the warmth of him at her back. She turned, ready to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped her. His brow lifted, silently telling her to drop it.

“Glen—”

Before she could say another word, he cupped her face and kissed her. It wasn’t rushed or heated, but slow and deliberate, his lips brushing hers just enough to make her heart stutter. He pulled back just slightly, their foreheads nearly touching.

“Let me do it,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing.

Gabby blinked up at him, momentarily disarmed. “You’re using kissing to get your way now?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a small smirk. “Is it working?”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved into a reluctant smile. “Fine. But only because you’re stubborn.”

“Stubborn and charming,” he corrected, taking the sponge from her hand and tossing it into the sink. “Now, go relax while I handle this.”

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, stepping aside.

“True,” he called over his shoulder as he began cleaning up the counter. “But you like me anyway.”

Gabby laughed, shaking her head as she leaned against the kitchen island. Watching Glen hum softly while he tidied up, she couldn’t help but think that, yes, she liked him—a little more than she cared to admit.

The evening slowly shifted into that quiet, comfortable lull that comes when two people are perfectly content in each other's company. Gabby was perched on the couch, her legs curled beneath her as she absently scrolled through a playlist on her phone, and Glen was sitting next to her, leaning back against the cushions with his arm draped casually along the backrest.

As the last song of her playlist faded, Glen glanced over at her, his hazel eyes warm but hesitant. “Hey,” he said softly, his tone different now—gentler, more deliberate.

Gabby turned to him, her head tilting slightly. “Yeah?”

His hand reached for hers, threading their fingers together as he gave a small smile. “Do you, uh… want to stay the night?”

Her heart gave a quick, surprised flutter. They’d spent plenty of time together over the last week, but this felt different—more significant, somehow.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Glen gave her hand a soft squeeze and nodded, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual confidence. “Yeah. I want you here, with me.”

Gabby’s lips curved into a small smile as she nodded. “Okay,” she said simply.

He smiled back, relief flickering across his face, and stood, tugging her gently to her feet. 

“Come on,” he said, his voice dipping lower as he led her toward his bedroom.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm, golden light across the room, making it feel cozy and intimate. Glen turned to face her, his hands resting lightly on her hips as she looked up at him, her breath catching.

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering kiss that quickly deepened. Gabby’s hands slid up to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled her closer. The world outside seemed to fade as they got lost in each other, their movements slow and deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world.

Glen’s hands skimmed her sides, his touch firm but careful, and when he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his expression was tender. His lips found hers again, and this time there was no hesitation. The kiss turned hungrier, more urgent, as they backed toward the bed. Glen’s hands moved to the hem of her top, and when she nodded her silent permission, he carefully lifted it over her head and tossed it aside.

She mirrored his movements, her hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt until he pulled it off and let it drop to the floor. For a moment, they paused, their eyes locking as if to silently check in with each other.

“This all okay?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Gabby nodded again, a small, nervous laugh escaping her. Glen reached for her hand again, intertwining their fingers as he guided her gently toward the bed. The quiet confidence in his movements steadied the fluttering nerves that Gabby felt bubbling just beneath the surface. As the backs of her knees brushed the edge of the mattress, Glen paused, looking down at her as if he was committing every detail to memory—the soft curve of her lips, the way her hair framed her face, the trust in her eyes.

Still holding her hand, he leaned down, brushing his lips across hers in a kiss so gentle it sent shivers down her spine. She let out a soft sigh, her free hand moving instinctively to rest against his chest, her fingertips grazing the warmth of his skin.

Glen smiled against her lips, the corners of his mouth curving in that way that always made her heart skip. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice quiet but heavy with sincerity.

Gabby felt her cheeks flush, and she ducked her head slightly, unable to hide the small, bashful smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re just saying that,” she whispered.

He tipped her chin back up with a single finger, his eyes meeting hers. “I’m not,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Before she could reply, his lips captured hers again, this time with more urgency. As the kiss deepened, Glen’s hands found her waist, and he guided her back onto the bed, following her down until they were both lying against the soft comforter.

Gabby’s heart raced as Glen hovered above her, his weight supported by his arms on either side of her. His gaze swept over her, equal parts admiration and restraint, as if he wanted to take his time but was finding it harder with every passing second.

“You sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice low and almost reverent.

Her answer was immediate, her hands sliding up to cradle his face. “I’m sure,” she whispered, pulling him down for another kiss.

Glen’s lips moved from hers, tracing a slow, deliberate path along her jaw and down the curve of her neck. Gabby’s breath hitched as he lingered at the sensitive spot just below her ear, his warm breath sending a wave of goosebumps across her skin.

Her hands roamed over his back, exploring the planes of muscle there as he continued to press soft, heated kisses along her collarbone. When his lips found their way back to hers, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

As the kiss deepened, Glen’s hands began to move with quiet certainty, his fingers brushing over the waistband of her jeans. Gabby’s breath caught in her throat as she felt his gentle tug, pulling the fabric down over her hips. She hesitated for a brief second, her stomach tightening with a sudden, unfamiliar feeling.

The jeans were gone in seconds, but as he moved to remove her shirt, Gabby instinctively covered herself with her hands, suddenly aware of every inch of exposed skin. She felt a flush creep across her chest, her breath shallow as she avoided his gaze for just a moment.

Glen paused, noticing the shift in her energy. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, the tenderness in his gaze giving her an almost overwhelming sense of comfort.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his hands still resting on her waist, the warmth of his touch grounding her.

Gabby shook her head quickly, trying to brush it off. “Nothing,” she said, offering him a half-smile. “Just… I don’t know. I’m fine.”

But Glen didn’t buy it. His brow furrowed in concern as he searched her eyes, sensing the unease she was trying to hide. His fingers gently cupped her face, urging her to meet his gaze.

“Gabs, hey,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. “Talk to me.”

She sighed, her body tensing under the weight of her vulnerability. She was used to being comfortable with Glen, but now–she felt exposed. And it terrified her.

“I just... I don’t know,” she said, her voice trailing off as she gestured at herself. “I’m not exactly—” She cut herself off, the insecurity creeping in again.

Glen’s eyes softened, and his expression changed to one of pure understanding. He moved slowly, deliberately, his hands trailing down her arms, coaxing her to relax. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Gabby opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips.

“No,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “You are. And I’m not just saying that or because I’m your boyfriend or whatever else you were about to say.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his words, but she still felt that twinge of insecurity, the nagging thought that she didn’t look like the women in magazines or the ones she imagined he’d been with before.

But before she could say anything more, Glen lowered himself beside her, his lips finding the sensitive skin just below her ear. His kisses were slow, soft, and deliberate, each one trailing down her neck, over her collarbone, and slowly, carefully, down her chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, his voice thick with admiration. His lips moved lower, brushing across her stomach, and Gabby let out a shaky breath, her body shuddering with each kiss. “Every inch of you is beautiful,” he whispered against her skin.

Gabby closed her eyes, the warmth of his kisses and the sincerity in his words slowly melting away her insecurities. She felt his hands roam along her body, exploring her with such reverence that it felt like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. His lips, soft but insistent, found their way back to hers, kissing her.

Glen pulled away just slightly, his eyes meeting hers again. “You’re perfect, Gabby,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And you don’t need to be anything but yourself for me.”

Gabby’s chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. The vulnerability, the raw honesty between them, made her heart swell in a way she wasn’t prepared for. She reached for him, pulling him back down into a kiss, letting her hands wander over his back, feeling the heat of his skin, grounding herself in the reality of this moment.

It was slow and tender, the kind of kiss that felt like more than just passion—it was a promise. A promise that, despite her insecurities, she was worthy of this, of him.

Glen’s hands were steady as he slowly slid her underwear down her legs, his gaze never leaving hers. She inhaled sharply, the tension between them thickening, her heart beating faster. When she was completely exposed to him, she couldn’t help but glance down, her eyes tracing the line of his body as he undressed. The sight of him—completely bare—made her pulse quicken.

Once he was bare before her, he leaned down, the muscles in his back rippling with the movement. He crawled back onto the bed, his body brushing against hers as he kissed her again, slow and deliberate, his lips trailing over hers in a heated, tender kiss. Gabby’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the weight of him, all of him, pressing closer, and yet there was an undeniable gentleness in the way he kissed her.

He slid his hand up to her face, cupping it softly as their lips moved together. She kissed him back with an intensity of her own, her hands running up and down his back, feeling every inch of the muscles she had admired from a distance. She couldn’t help but smile against his lips, that nagging insecurity from earlier slowly melting away with every kiss, every touch, every second they spent together.

Glen pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against hers. He was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling as he smiled softly at her. “You good?” he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Gabby nodded, her hands sliding down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under her fingertips. “I’m good,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. And for the first time in a while, she truly felt it—good, real, safe.

Glen pulled away just slightly, his hand moving to the nightstand. Gabby watched him curiously, but then understood when she saw the small box in his hand. He looked at her for a moment, his expression soft but serious.

Gabby nodded. Glen carefully opened the box and retrieved a condom, a quiet moment of practicality amidst the heat of the moment. He gave her a reassuring smile as he slid it on.

"Still sure about this?" he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. Gabby nodded, feeling more at ease now that she knew they were both on the same page.

"Yeah," she murmured, smiling up at him, appreciating the care he’d shown. "I’m sure."

As Glen positioned himself above her, he moved slowly, giving her time to adjust. When he finally slid into her, both of them paused.

Gabby’s breath hitched as she felt the initial stretch, a slight discomfort making her eyes flutter shut. She’d imagined this moment, but the reality was different—more intimate, more overwhelming. She could feel herself tense, it having been a while since she’d been with anyone.

But then, Glen’s hands found her face, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he murmured against her ear, “You’re doing great. Just breathe, babe. I’ll go slow.”

His words grounded her, bringing her focus back to him. His presence was calm and steady, and the tenderness in his gaze told her everything she needed to know. Slowly, the discomfort eased, and Gabby let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Glen’s hands moved to her waist, helping her adjust as he began to move, slowly at first, giving her the space she needed. Every inch of him was careful, focused on her, his eyes locked on hers as if he were waiting for any sign that she needed a break. “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

Gabby’s breath was shallow, but with each movement, the discomfort slowly faded, replaced by something deeper, something more intense. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, her hands gripping his back as she began to meet his movements, urging him on.

Glen kissed her forehead, his lips soft against her skin, whispering more reassurances as they moved together. His voice was hoarse with the effort of holding back, his movements becoming more urgent but still patient, still focused on making sure she was okay.

Gabby, feeling the heat building between them, nodded, her body responding to his in a way that made her forget about the earlier discomfort. 

“I’m okay now. You can go faster,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible, but it was enough.

Glen’s pace quickened then, his movements more desperate. As the tension built, Gabby found herself spiraling, lost in the sensation, and with one final whisper of his name, she reached the peak, her body trembling beneath him.

He followed soon after, his name leaving her lips in a breathless moan as they both rode out their highs together.

After Glen collapsed beside her, pulling her close as they both tried to catch their breath, their bodies tangled together beneath the soft covers. Gabby nestled into his chest, her head resting against his shoulder, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

But the silence was comfortable, filled with the soft sounds of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies pressed together.

“You okay?” Glen finally asked his hand tracing patterns along her back.

Gabby smiled, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice full of warmth and trust.

After the shared silence of their embrace, Glen gently pressed a kiss to Gabby’s forehead before slipping out of bed. His movements were slow, and careful, as if not wanting to disturb the peace between them. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, and she nodded, her eyes closing as she listened to the soft sounds of him moving around the room.

When he returned, he held a t-shirt in his hand, the soft fabric looking a little worn, the familiar scent of him still lingering on it. 

“Here,” he said, offering it to her with a warm smile. “Figured you might want something to wear.”

Gabby glanced up at him, still feeling the warmth from their shared moment. She took the shirt from him, fingers brushing against his as she did. “Thanks,” she murmured softly, feeling a little shy now that the raw intensity of the moment had passed.

She slid off the bed and moved toward the bathroom, using the restroom and freshening up before returning to him. When she came back, she saw Glen had pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and was now laying on the bed.

Gabby put on her underwear and then slipped into the oversized shirt Glen had given her, the cotton fabric falling just past her thighs.

She crawled back into bed, settling next to him, feeling the softness of the sheets beneath her. Glen shifted, making space for her, then wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. His touch was light, almost protective as if wanting to ensure she felt safe and cherished.

Gabby snuggled into his chest, the warmth of his body lulling her into a sense of peace. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this comfortable with someone. The vulnerability they’d shared earlier still lingered between them, but now it was wrapped in the softness of intimacy, trust, and care.

“You okay?” Glen asked quietly, his voice soft and steady as his fingers gently traced circles on her back.

Gabby looked up at him, her eyes meeting his with a smile that reached her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, her voice low but filled with contentment. “I’m really good, Glen. Thanks for… everything.”

He smiled down at her, his eyes soft with affection. “Anytime,” he murmured, kissing her forehead gently.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound between them the gentle rhythm of their breathing, the quiet peace that came from being close to someone who truly cared. Gabby closed her eyes, letting the weight of the moment wash over her, feeling safe, seen, and, for the first time in a long time, completely at ease.

Glen didn’t say anything more, but his hand gently stroked her hair, a tender gesture that spoke louder than any words could. And as she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she couldn’t help but think that this—this was exactly what she needed, what she had been longing for without even knowing it.

[ashfae]

Raise your hand if you're going to go write Blitzfic now.

You know what it’s like when you don’t know anything at all, and yet you’re totally certain that everything would be better if you were near one particular person.

GOOD OMENS (2019-)

[wind-becomes-lightning]

Can I just tell you that everytime I see a picture of Konohamaru, I think "sarutobi your face sir"

sdfaksdfjadsf IM SO GLAD YOU DO ahahahah At first it was just an expression of my frustration over how pretty he looks now (god damn it!) but now it has become his tag :D No other character has a tag really, just he does so I can keep it all together

[seth-whumps]

I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course. follow @whumperless-whump-event for more information and details!

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed (GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.)

No AI generated content allowed

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tags required, even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting still needs the emetophobia tag)

NSFT and NSFW are allowed, if tagged appropriately. This blog will not reblog them, as minors do follow it. However, you're still free to write as you please :)

If enough interest is shown, I will make an Ao3 collection (edit: ao3 collection is made and can be found here)

Side note: please let me know if there's anything I can do to make this post or event more accessible. Should I put the image transcripts on the ID too? Is the formatting causing issues? What can I do?

This is not a contest, just an event. The only awards will be announcements for people who completed the whole darn thing. My entries will not receive any announcements or awards, because I'm hosting

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1; #whumperless whump event; and (optional) #whumperless whump event day 1: alcohol as a sanitizer

Tag @whumperless-whump-event please! If not, I may not see it or be able to reblog it!

If desired, tag the medium you used

Trigger tag and content warn (including nsfw/nsft)

If posting early, tag with #wwe early entry. If posting late, tag with #wwe late entry. If posting just for fun, no need to tag these!

IMPORTANT:

There are NO OTHER RULES. Do one prompt! Do seven! Do 'em all! Repeat the same prompt six days in a row! Switch them around and do them all out of order! Post them eight months after the event is over! Finish the prompt list early! Write one long-ass story that deals with every prompt or do a one-sentence drabble for each one! Recommend your favorite scenes regarding the prompt! Write, draw, sing, play music, make playlists, do fic recs or show recs or episode recs or book recs, fucking crochet or something! FOLLOW THE VIBE. DO WHAT'S FUN.

Prompts (text):

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Mugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[hoshigray]

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 [𝐍𝐎𝐓]!! | a JJK series

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!” “BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU!” It’s no secret to anyone on this Earth that you and Gojo cannot stand each other. Despite that, the world seems amused to put these two star-crossed lovers haters in the same space. Or worse, have them dwell deeper into their feelings for one another…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - fluff + angst + misunderstandings - first kiss - virginity loss - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - secret relationships; implied friends-with-benefits - sex in shared rooms; college dorms + hotel suite - college parties - use of party games (seven minutes in heaven) - confessions - mention of drug/alcohol abuse - humor bc Gojo and college, lol - Gojo is a cocky, tactless sweetheart, nothing new - cameos of other characters + explicit content will be listed in their respective fics (within the contents).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: when I say that I had this series planned out, I mean like mid-October last year planned out, lmaoo!! I'm honestly so psyched to do this series, as it's one of my favorite tropes + relatively short as I'll be busy irl, but we'll do what we can!! i was lowkey feeling this concept when i was re-watching Ranma 1/2 and figured it would work great with Gojo. So, here's to hoping i can properly execute my thoughts with this series, hehehe~

reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ❤︎ gif header made by me + fic dividers used are provided by the wonderful @cafekitsune and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!!

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑰𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒊𝒓...

All the material below contains explicit 18+ content, so minors do not interact.

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (Feb 1st)

The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 (Feb 7th)

Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

₊˚⊹♡ 𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 (Feb 14th)

Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖!

Would you like to be tagged when these pieces get released? Lmk in the replies, please, and thank you!

𝑻𝑨𝑮 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑫!!! Have made a list of the first 50 ppl who asked, but don't worry!! Check back for the stories when they're posted on their respective dates!!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ These stories have been written by the original poster (me). Do not steal, edit, copy/plagiarize, or post any of my works on your own accounts, in or out of this app. Please and thank you.

[mufos-photo-album]

A lil' PSA (and call to action?)

Hey all! From now on, I will be blocking anyone who follows me/interacts with my posts if I suspect they're a bot. If you've been on Tumblr for a while you're probably no stranger to bots, but the reason why I'm making a full-on post is because this situation also involves AI image generation.

This post contains more in-depth information (as well as a juicy block list), but if you'd like to hear it from me: Basically, there's a strand of bot accounts going around, stealing from artists/photographers and slapping an AI filter onto their works to make it seem like the AI generated it.

Don't believe me? I did my own look-around of these accounts and noticed that they sometimes include really specific tags on their AI posts, like the kind of tags an artist would leave behind has a comment on their work. I decided to search the tags of 2 posts and found multiple bots stealing from one artist. In both images below, the original artist is the one on the left

If you still don't believe me or want to see more examples, the account @ai-art-thieves has been doing a lot of callouts lately of these kinds of accounts.

As for what you can do, I advise you to be a bit weary about the accounts that follow you or reblog your posts. So far, all of the bots have a predictable naming scheme + look to them that's seen in both the post I linked as well as my screenshots. If you see these things in the wild, please report and block them!

[starlostseungmin]

husband!seungmin

✰ notes: my brain is not working properly and idk if i could write any lengthy fics as of the moment but here’s husband seungmin because i’m bored and i love our puppy so much. not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

（ seungmin ）chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix , hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Seungmin who cried when he saw you walking down the aisle with a big smile on his face thinking that he’s the luckiest man on earth to marry you. He couldn’t wait for the priest to finally announce you as husband and wife then kisses you in front of your friends and family. 

Husband Seungmin whose love language is act of service and words of affirmation with a little bit of gift-giving. 

Husband Seungmin who is still shy about engaging in physical touch. But when he does, he gets really clingy and refuses to let you go. You never complain. He also loves looking at you dreamingly while you sleepーwhispering how much he loves you and kisses your forehead before going to sleep, hugging you tightly. 

Husband Seungmin who cooks every morning before going to workーsometimes at nightーand holds your hand while brewing coffee as he steals kisses whenever you aren’t looking. 

Husband Seungmin who would take the day off from work just to stay home and take care of you when you’re sick. He won’t allow you to move and insist that he’ll do everything you ask for. 

Husband Seungmin who gets a bit possessive when someone who seems interested in you makes a conversation so he’d kiss your lips out of the blue and say, “We’re married.” then show off your wedding rings. 

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t pressure you to have kids with him since he respects whatever decision you make. It doesn’t matter anyway, as long as the two of you are together, that’s enough for him. 

Husband Seungmin who is still feeling nervous when he asks you out on a date. It would always feel like the first timeーhis heart racing, cheeks red as a tomato, the giddiness and sparks, everything goes in slow-motion. He would take you to your favorite places and have the best time. 

Husband Seungmin who loves tea time and is literally serving you hot gossip from workーlaughing at how everyone was so dumb and problematic in the industry. 

Husband Seungmin who used to prefer texts over calls but now he tends to call you often because he misses you. He would also wait for you to hang up first.

Husband Seungmin who would hug you tightly while kissing the crown of your head and whisper words that might comfort you when you��re breaking down and vulnerable in front of him. He would refuse to leave until you feel better. 

Husband Seungmin who makes weird noises and funny faces just to make you laugh. 

Husband Seungmin who acts like a puppy when he wants to be babied and asks for a kiss. 

Husband Seungmin who treats you like royalty. 

Husband Seungmin who gets over the moon when you surprise him with lots of (useful) Sanrio-related gifts. Mostly Pochacco and Pompompurin with a little bit of Cinnamon Roll. 

Husband Seungmin who loves to take A LOT of pictures of you with his phone or camera. You’d complain (playfully) about his storage getting full but he doesn’t mind because you are his muse. 

Husband Seungmin who brings you flowers on random days because they remind him of you. 

Husband Seungmin who kisses your lips intimately because he wants to. It could happen multiple times a day which could lead to something moreーmost of the time. 

Husband Seungmin who would walk away after an argument and come back hours later to apologize. 

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t want you to see him cry but gives in when you hug him. 

Husband Seungmin who gets brutally honest, cries over silly things, and does his little twerk when drunk but still cute as hell. 

Husband Seungmin who always scores 98-100 on coin karaoke and gets cocky. He knows you love listening to him when he sings and gladly does the favor when you ask him to—wherever, whenever. 

Husband Seungmin who is always good at everything. 

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t say “I love you,” most of the time but expresses it in different ways or says it with the things he feels about you. 

Husband Seungmin whose smile is the most precious in the world. You promised not to take it away and never make him cry. 

Husband Seungmin who loves you so much, makes you happy, never fails to make your heart beat, makes you feel loved and accepts you no matter what your flaws are. 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[alastorthirsty]

Hooray For Makeup Sex! - Alastor x f! fallen angel!reader

Request: Hi! I recently read one of your alastor pieces & ohhhh my god! It was amazing. I was wondering if you would do something alastor x f!reader where they have an argument, add some angst, some fluff, some heavy heavy smut? Almost like alastor begging for reader & wanting to do anything for her to forgive him ?? Just a little idea. :) thank you so much for your wonderful work!’

Hey nonnie! I’m absolutely thrilled to fulfill your request. I hope this hits the mark! Let me know if it does! 😘

Word count: 6678

Warnings: established relationship, breakup, angst, fluff, Alastor is a very jealous and possessive but also in love man, thigh riding, (angelic) bloodplay, vaginal intercourse. Listen, we all know Alastor is a Bad Man(tm). In this story and many, many others, Fucked Up Alastor is going to say Fucked Up Things. Alastor is a sentient red flag. I would like to kindly remind you that you need to carefully decide whether or not that's too much for you before you begin to read. I'd hate it if you read and got triggered by some possessive or otherwise red flag dialogue/prose! If it’s not for you, you can simply block me and avoid my other fanfiction. You're responsible for your own reading experience!! 💖💋

Please like, comment, and reblog to sustain me! Let me know if you'd like to be on my tag list and remember that requests are open!

‘Sorry’ is not a word in Alastor’s lexicon. He stares at the heatless green fire in front of him, whiskey in one hand, the other tapping against the arm of his chair.

That was Charlie’s unsolicited advice, a rehash of old material. It starts with sorry, Al.

Well, he stubbornly doesn’t believe he’s in the wrong to begin with, so why should he go and grovel at your fucking feet?

‘Sorry’ is not a word in Alastor’s lexicon, and that’s that.

He throws the whiskey across the room suddenly, with such force that the crystal crashes into the opposite wall, forcing him to look at it.

Oh, it’s luxurious. A four poster bed with a white linen canopy. A mattress that adjusts itself to your whims, night by night. Silken sheets in the exact shade of your favourite colour. All of it for your benefit and yours alone—for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even sleep! He doesn’t need to sleep, he just needs…

Alastor stares at the bed, imagines how he’d sit next to you as you slumbered, glancing over at you occasionally for the sake of your comfort and security. He remembers how you’d snore lightly and how he would push hair out of your face as you snoozed. He remembers smiling…

He remembers smiling.

He also recalls other little activities the two of you got up to in this bed, satisfying a hunger he’d never known before you, but that isn’t something he craves anymore. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

‘Sorry’ isn’t a word in Alastor’s lexicon, even though… even though…

It needs to be.

He sits there thinking of everything from the beginning. The day you first met, all those mysterious luminous creatures floating along, moving your furniture past the lobby. Your soft and kind smile, the one that sickened him at first. That damnable dress you wore the first time the two of you hit the sheets, and how fun it was to rip it off your body. The way his shadow always tried to steal feathers from the wings of your shadow. The first time you yelled at him for that.

He thinks of where things went wrong, the man that caused that incredible din, but the only thing he can think of, if he is finally honest with himself, is himself. His own jealousy, his controlling nature, thinking he knew what was best for you. That was what sparked the argument, wasn’t it?

It his fault, certainly, but ‘sorry’ is not in Alastor’s lexicon, period.

The lilies are still on the bedside table. They are dried, desiccating, the little leaves and petals falling onto the surface. He had gotten the lilies to say ‘sorry’, in his own way, but you never did come back to his room.

He lays back on the bed and plucks a dying lily from the bouquet, keeping it in his hand. It's not difficult to imagine you there beside him, your arms wrapped around him as he presses his face against your shoulder, and oh, that’s when it really hits him.

Your scent. He remembers it so well that he smells it now, a phantom chased by nothing. His eyes close and he rolls until his head meets your pillow, breathing in your scent deeply.

‘Sorry’ is not in his lexicon, but goddamn it, there are lilies.

What would it take, what flowers would fix things, if lilies were not enough? Pink roses? White orchids? Tulips? A hundred dozen daffodils, flooding the entire hotel?

Alastor notices now how his hands are shaking at his sides. He clenches his claws into fists and closes his eyes, breathing in your scent again. The best thing to do is to incinerate the pillow, the bed, the lilies…

No, no. His jaw tightens. No, that would be the easy thing to do. Not the best, or even the smartest. It was the cowardly thing to do.

‘Sorry’ is not in Alastor’s lexicon, but he’s no fucking coward.

He can almost hear your voice in his ears, whispering his name with such sweet affection. He remembers your laugh, a sound like music to him. A laugh reserved for him and him alone. Something special.

He's never needed anyone else's company before. He never bothered with the emotional needs of other people. You’re the only person he's ever cared for, the only person who has ever truly meant anything to him. He feels weak and vulnerable over your absence. He doesn't like feeling like this, but you’re the one woman that can break down his walls.

Alastor doesn't like needing you, he doesn't like letting you have this power over him. But at this moment, he doesn't care. He'd give anything to just hear your voice again, even if it’s just to yell at him and tell him to fuck off.

Again.

The sound of your voice, the way you looked into his eyes, your little imperfections that only served to make you all the more perfect in his eyes. He remembers how your lips felt against his skin, the soft warmth of your touch.

He doesn’t like to need you, but he does love it.

He opens his eyes, clutching the now withered flower so tightly that all but a few brown petals fall from the stem. He stares at it for a long moment, trying not to let the memories overwhelm him. A green fire erupts from his palm, scorching it first, then turning it to ash. He stares at it, the lightness of it in his palm.

He's always had such strict control over himself, even under stress or grief, but not anymore. Not when it comes to you. You’ve always been able to cause feelings of weakness and helplessness within him. He hates himself for feeling this way, but at the same time, he can't bring himself to hate you. No, never you.

He closes his eyes again, imagining you lying beside him. You would have wrapped your arms around him and pressed your lips to the side of his neck. Sometimes, you’d start leaving the tiniest of kisses down his neck. It would make him shiver, it would make him…

Just like that first night when things turned physical. Your hands would always find a way under his shirt, running your fingers over the muscles of his chest and stomach, your fingers tracing reverently over his scars.

He can almost feel the softness of your skin, the warmth of your body.

Alastor sighs in consideration of his current position. One of, if not the most powerful Overlord of hell, lying in a bed he does not need, pining after a fallen angel who once (admittedly, accidentally) broke a horn off his shadow. He breathes in your scent again. A fallen angel who made his mama’s jambalaya for him. A fallen angel who was never once intimidated by him. A fallen angel who created life, “along a certain slant of light”, as you put it, most of them visible only to you, except for shimmers of light, like oil on water.

A fallen angel who wouldn’t speak to him even if he said sorry.

Alastor sighs, sits up, holding her pillow like a child holding a fucking teddy bear.

“Fuck.”

He smacks himself on the forehead and drags his hand down his face.

“Fuck.”

He says it again, getting a taste of the word, the pride of it in its coarse formation and meaning.

Alastor sighs, holding the pillow, looking at the bouquet of dead lilies. “Fuck.”

He wants to feel the softness of your lips again. To feel the warmth of your skin, the press of your body against his. But more than anything, he wants to hear you laugh again. He wants that beautiful smile back, the smile you give to him and only him.

But he doubts that will happen. You’ve probably already moved on from him, and honestly, he wouldn't blame you for doing so. Well, that’s a lie.

He knows he's difficult, and demanding—sometimes too demanding. You’ve always been far more patient with him than anyone else, but even that has its limits. And he's certainly pushed those limits.

You’re probably in the arms of some other man right now, maybe even him, laughing as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You probably don’t even think about Alastor anymore.

‘Sorry’ may not be in his fucking lexicon, but like hell he’d ever allow another man into your bed, and certainly not…him.

Alastor makes sure he’s impeccable before riding the dark to your room. He decides it would be a rather stupid idea to appear inside your room without permission, so he settles on the hallway and knocks on your door.

“Come in!”

The sound is muffled, and he feels the sharp need to lecture you on not checking who is at the door before letting them in, but he refrains. He turns the doorknob and walks into your room for the first time in a while and finds you—

Down on the floor, halfway underneath the bed.

“This seems like a cliche pornographic film,” he comments as he shuts the door.

Herbert, the only one of the little light creatures that he can see, floats towards him.

You try to sit up right when you hear Alastor’s voice, banging your head. You get out from under the bed and stand up.

“Herbert, leave him alone,” you say.

“Nonsense! Hello little creature,” Alastor says to the glowing bastard he had tolerated at best before the breakup. He summons up an apple for the mischievous little son of a bitch to snack on and Herbert quickly zips away with it, disappearing under the bed.

“How did you know that being stuck is a porn cliche?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms crossed. “Been watching a lot of it lately?”

“I think you know that I have not,” Alastor says, leaning forward on his staff. “We just so happen to live with an adult film star who tries to pull the ‘help me I’m stuck’ routine on Husker at least twice per week. What were you doing under the bed, darling?”

“Herbert! He’s been stealing from me,” you say. “I knew I didn’t lose those emerald earrings you gave me. I found those and then some in his little nest under the bed.”

He can’t help but swell with pride. One of his favourite things to do was present you with gifts and he loved seeing them on you every time.

“What do you want?” you ask, and that deflates him a bit.

Alastor takes a breath, his chest rising. “I need you to instruct me in something.”

“Go ask literally anyone else.” You open up the door, gesturing for him to leave, but with a bit of boldness Alastor flicks the door closed again.

“I’m afraid there’s no one better to ask than you, my dear.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alastor, I broke up with you so I wouldn’t have to deal with things like this anymore.”

Alastor pauses for a time. Honesty tumbles its way past his lips. “You are all that I love.”

The room goes silent, save for the sound of Herbert cronching his apple.

You give a sigh, a pained expression on your face, one that he hates to see. All of him wants to go to you, but you wouldn’t want that—not yet.

“Goddamn it,” you whisper. “Is that what you needed instruction for?”

“No,” he says immediately. “No, loving you needs no instruction.”

You let out a breath. That’s all you can do before your head is in your hands.

“My dear, may I sit beside you?” Alastor asks after a moment’s silence.

“Oh, fuck you!” You stand up and circle around him once. “Fuck you, Alastor!”

His eyebrows rise. “That is not the response that I anticipated or desired.”

“Oh it’s not?” you ask mockingly.

He’s never seen you act like this before, and it is surprising him. An unseen variable, one that choked him. His grip on his staff increases.

“My dear, I sense that you still harbour quite a lot of animus—“

“Shut up! Shut up!” You pace back and forth the length of the rug, also a gift from him. “Fuck you! Fuck you for saying the right things the wrong time!”

Alastor takes a chance and sits down on your bed, watching you closely. “Do you want more earrings?”

You immediately go to your armoire and start throwing jewellery at him. He’s quite literally stunned by this behaviour. Herbert comes out from underneath the bed and snipes a few rings.

“Darling.”

You say nothing, you just keep throwing things at him.

“Darling.”

“Just take it. Take it all back. Give it to someone else.”

Now he looks offended and straightens his posture. You run out of jewellery to throw at him.

“You know there can be no other,” he says, somewhat angry. “You know I’m not capable of having any such enjoyment with anyone else. You are all I love and all that I desire to love. All I can love. There’s none but you and nothing will ever compare, never come close. Do you understand?”

“Then keep them for yourself. Or let Herbert have it all, enable his fucking kleptomania.”

“They belong to you and you will have them. Every last jewel.”

“Alastor, you shouldn’t be here,” you say.

“That is a consideration I undertook before coming.” He leaves his staff on the bed and goes to you. “I need your instruction.”

“On what?” you snap.

He lets out a deep breath. “How many lilies will it take to be forgiven?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Forget the lilies then,” he says quickly. “Just disregard the matter of florals altogether. What token is needed?”

“Token?”

“It doesn’t need to be a physical object, not a coin one inserts into a slot in exchange for heroin or soda,” he says quickly. “I am explaining myself poorly. I’ll be truthful and direct, if you will allow me.”

Your arms cross again, a defensive posture. “Okay.”

“I need you. I don’t know how to be without you anymore. It’s maddening. I find myself missing you in all these vacant spaces that were not vacant before you. You created space in me that only you can fill, and now it is…empty. You made me this way, and it is your fault,” he says quickly. “And what am I to do, now? Accept that I am now empty? Accept that I will walk through eternity alone, with all this space within me, space that you and you alone can occupy?”

“And you hate it, don’t you Alastor? And you hate me for it.”

“I considered that,” he admits. “I tried to insist it to myself, that I did not need such adulations and that I didn’t need you, specifically. I tried not to need you, but your absence insisted upon you. I do not hate you. Nothing could force me to feel that way, not myself, not you, not Herbert.”

“Herbert?”

“Correct. Herbert.”

You sit down beside his staff, touch the microphone knowing you were the only person ever allowed to do so. You sigh. “I love you, too. And just like you, I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I know exactly what to do with it,” he responds.

“Yeah?”

Alastor nods. “We just…go back to before. Move forward. But together. I would sooner die than see you with another man.”

You lift a warning finger to him. “You’re not helping yourself.”

Alastor huffs. “It is the truth. You value honesty as well as I do.”

Now you scoff. “You deal in subterfuge, not honesty.”

“Not with you, and you know that,” he says, pointing at you. “I am a flawed man, but I’ve given you my very best. Better than I thought I had capacity for. Can you truly say that it was never enough?”

“Of course it was,” you say softly.

Alastor sighs and sits beside you. He thinks to put an arm around you, but manages not to.

“You are so used to getting everything you want,” you say. “You have the power to get whatever you want except me.”

He winces. “Please do not put it that way, darling. Please don’t say…we’ll never find a way. Please.”

Slowly, you reach over and touch his hand. When it curls together with his fingers, he places his other hand firmly on top, squeezing.

“Four hundred.”

He waits for you to explain, but you don’t.

“Four hundred what, dearest?” he asks.

You look at him and smile. “Four hundred lilies.”

Alastor snaps his fingers and four hundred lilies arrange themselves in vases on top of every surface in the room. Smelling them, Herbert whooshed out from underneath the bed and floated all along the flowers, playing with the tiny white bells in a way that Alastor could admit might be considered ‘cute’ by others. He looks back to you.

“Do you want to count them all, darling?” he asks.

“I don’t need to,” you say softly. “I feel like I should tell you something.”

“I do not like that,” Alastor says immediately. “I do not like the sound of that. Is it him?”

“Don’t bring this full circle to the last argument,” you warn. “There is no other man. I just thought…you really came in here and said things that I didn’t think you could. You really laid it all on the line and I feel like you deserve the same from me.”

Alastor nods along slowly. “No other man?”

You shake your head. “No other men. Will you stop? Will you please stop? Will you let me talk now?”

“I suppose,” he says, pulling you closer. He settles so that his head rests against your chest. “I am listening.”

“It’s not exactly easy for me to open up either,” you say before clearing your throat. “There’s a wealth of differences between us but similarities that are significant. We both struggle with making space for other people in our lives and typically won’t.”

“That is true,” he says, fingers running along your shoulder.

You start to play with his hair, the fuck-ass bob you only came to love because it was his preference. You’re tempted to touch one of his ears, but now’s not the time for that.

“Sometimes it’s simply hard to believe that there’s this perfect person that really…loves me,” you say softly, quietly, almost wishing that you hadn’t.

Alastor tightens his hold on you. Neither of you could handle personal vulnerability quite so easily, but yours makes his heart clench. “Do I make you feel…less loved when we argue over other men?”

You sigh. “Alastor, it’s not just an argument about men, it’s you basically calling me a whore—“

“No, I didn’t,” he interjects quickly. “No. I have never called you that or thought it of you. You are my favourite, my treasure, my prize, and I would never think so lowly of you. Never, not in all of eternity until what you call ‘the inevitable heat-death of the universe’. I would argue that heaven and hell are a different universe but that is yet another argument we should never cross again.”

“Agreed,” you say, nodding your head. “Just like the argument about—“

“Horses running on their fingers, I know.” Alastor can’t help the fondness in his smile. No matter how heated the arguments, the passion between the two of you manifests itself in all ways possible.

You smile back at him and decide to take the chance to kiss him again. Just once. Just to show him he was still loved, cherished, longed for. It was only right.

Alastor cups the back of your head to keep you there. Fuck once, now that he’s gotten to kiss you he chooses to interpret it as carte blanche to take as many as he wants. Damn, how he had missed this…

You gently remove his hand and pull away. “I’m not done speaking.”

“Apologies,” he mutters.

You nod and continue. “I want to be the one you love. I want to be the only one you love, just as much as you want to be the only one that I love. You just can’t treat me like a soul that you own.”

Alastor’s eyes widen at that. Had he really…?

He looks you dead in the eye. “If I ever do that again, correct me with a good slap.”

You shake your head. “No. I won’t lay my hands on you with anything but affection and…shall we say, intimacy.”

“Intimacy,” he repeats, and almost moans then and there. It has been…too long.

“I know,” you say. “I know.”

“Will you ever be…comfortable with the idea of it again?” Alastor asks.

“I’ve practically undressed you with my eyes since you came in here.”

He goes to make a move but you rebuff him once more, sitting up in the bed. “The fact remains that I am hurt by you when you start questioning me about the attentions of other men, attentions that I do not notice more often than not, if they exist at all. Especially not from him. I keep telling you, he does not look at me that way, he doesn’t think of me that way.”

He nods several times in thought before sitting up beside you, turning to face you. “I am afraid.”

Your eyes widen. You’ve seen him express all sorts of emotions in front of you before but never, not once, had even alluded to fear.

“W-why?” you ask with a bare whisper.

“I’m not a good man, and you know that. You know what I do almost better than anyone else. You are too good for me, therefore I fear another man will come along, catch your fancy, and leave me with the choice of either killing him and devastating you or simply languishing in my own self-pity. Why are you so far?”

(Obviously he would kill the other man.)

Alastor drags you into his lap and you give no resistance. He holds you tight, intending to never let go, not now when there was a chance.

You lay your head on his shoulder and breathe him in. You’ve missed his scent, too.

“I’m not too good for you,” you mutter against his neck. “And I won’t hear of it. Understood?”

He smiles begrudgingly. “Fine. You will have it as you wish, my dear.”

“So,” you say. “What now?”

“Move forward,” he says again. “Be with me again. Allow me to present you with jewels. I will…continue to put up with that little abomination eating the lilies.”

You gasp and look towards Herbert. You clap your hands together loudly. “Herbert! No! They might be poisonous to you, and besides, they’re mommy’s!”

Alastor can’t help himself but laugh. “Mommy’s, you say?”

“I made him, I’m mommy!”

Maybe…maybe it was possible. You’re not a sinner, after all, and Charlie does exist…

Maybe he can give you fawns, bond you to him for all eternity, heat-death of the universe be damned.

Alastor chuckles, lets that thought slide by (for now). He whisks the lilies away before the little bastard can make himself sick and throws another apple at him. Herbert gasps softly, takes it, and back under the bed he goes.

“See?” Alastor says. “I am suitable.”

You smile at him softly. “Promise?”

“Yes, dear. I do promise. There are many things I can’t. We will continue to argue over pointless things, that’s already in the cards. We will bump heads and piss each other off. I will be jealous, I will certainly be possessive, but I will never express it to you in a way that makes you feel like a harlot. And I will try not to over-analyse every interaction with him. Perhaps I will never express it at all, that would be best, I know…

“And I will fail. And you will, too. We will have our… fuck-ups, as you often call them. However, for all the fuck-ups we ever had before, not a moment passed when I did not know that I loved you. You created space in me, made my lungs full. I cannot be without you now, and I think you…I think that you are the same. I hope you are the same.” He pauses. “Please, darling.”

You kiss him, and in that he understands your acceptance of this. Of him, his words, the explicit and implicit promises. Words were difficult sometimes.

He grabs you tightly and rides the dark to his bedroom, to the bed he made for you.

You break the kiss with an air of incredulity. “You know I hate when you shadow whoosh me!”

“And you know I have exactly one rule about where we are intimate.”

You sigh. “Not above Herbert’s nest.”

“Indeed. Not above Herbert’s nest.”

“And who said anything about being intimate?” you ask, a hint of mischief in your eyes.

He smirks. “There she is.”

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” you say.

He grins, his eyes burning with a dark, sinful desire as he responds huskily, his lips against your ear. “Ah, my love, I want to do everything to you. I want to touch you, taste you, explore every inch of you until nothing exists to either of us except each other. I want to hear you moan and gasp my name, to make you feel things you've never felt before.”

You give him a wicked smile. “We should do that.”

He grows in agreement, his eyes burning with need and desire as he responds in a low, guttural voice. “We absolutely should. We will. I’m going to explore every inch of you, to make you feel things you've only dreamed of. Are you ready for that, my love?

He pulls you so that your back is snug against his chest, not a bit of space between your bodies. His clawed fingertips run from your knee all the way to your hip. He can hear that little gasp you try to hide, can feel that little shiver. The hem of your dress hiked up, his hand moves to cup your mound. He smirks to himself when he feels you rub against it.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing against the shell of it. He rubs against your underwear for a few moments, allowing you to rock your hips against his hand, and oh, there it was again. Control. Control over you, the greatest prize of all, and you gave it to him so willingly.

His hand slides his hand inside your silken undergarments easily—ones that he bought for you. It’s gratifying as hell, almost as good as feeling your slick folds against his fingers. He blunts his fingertips and rubs against you.

Alastor’s teeth catch on your neck and he’s more than tempted to bite down, but not just yet. You moan and he relishes it.

“You like that?” he murmurs against your ear. “You love it, don’t you? Being a good girl for me.” Alastor uses his free arm to wrap around your hips to stop you from moving. “Now, be very good.”

You give a soft little whimper when he won’t let you move anymore, knowing you’re at his mercy when he’s in a mood like this. Fingers slide inside of you, his thumb rubbing over your clit.

“Be still, and be quiet,” he instructs, smiling against your ear.

He can sense the struggle almost as soon as he says it. That little tremble in your thighs. The hand that shoots up to cover your mouth.

“Oh, no dear,” Alastor says, pushing it away with his free hand. ”Don’t test me again. No cheating, no tricks. No magic, no power. Only me.”

Listening to you trying to contain all your little sounds is priceless. Alastor knows how to play your body like a Stradivarius. His fingers move lower, deeper.

“Who makes you feel like this?” he asks, sucking a dark mark against your neck.

You’re not sure if it’s a trick or not until his little ministrations pause, causing you to whimper again. “You!”

“Atta girl,” he says affectionately. “You’re so wet for me.”

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin, his chin rubbing against your neck as he kisses and teases you. "My love, I can feel. You like it, don't you? You like how I can make you fall apart in my hands, helpless to my touch."

He bites your neck softly, his teeth scraping against your skin.

You take a few shaky breaths. “Am I allowed to speak now?”

Alastor pauses, as if deliberating, and the lack of movement in his fingers is excruciating. Your pussy throbs at the loss, clenching around them, and you’re near the point of begging.

“No,” he says momentarily. “No, you are not allowed to speak yet. Good of you to ask, darling, but now is the time for you to listen, not to speak. Now, stand up.”

Confused, you manage to get up from his lap and stand one rubbery legs before him. Your eyes give the inquiry your lips cannot.

Alastor parts his knees wide and pulls you to straddle one of his thighs.

Oh!

Your cheeks warm and your jaw opens slightly. You almost shake your head, but Alastor reaches for your chin and holds it between his fingers. With his other hand, he grabs one of your hips and forces you to start moving, the grind against your wet, clothed pussy causing you to gasp.

“I’ve missed you in more ways than one,” he says, slapping you on the ass to encourage to ride his thigh on your own.

“It was my own fault, I know that,” he continues, and places both hands on your hips to support you as you move. “I was insane with jealousy, yes, and that is also my own fault. I cannot tolerate the mere notion that someone else would get to see you…like this. You are so very beautiful, darling. You are so very, very much mine.”

He could never let anyone else have you. He knew that he never would. Surprisingly, his possessive words seem to make you grind harder against him, your hips working more quickly. Alastor welcomes this with a grin.

“Ah, my dear.” His hands move from your waist to your ass, squeezing, making you moan for him again. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let you fall. Come for me.”

Still unsure if you’re allowed to make any sound, you bite down on your lip hard, your eyes on his when a little golden rivulet drips from your poor, abused lip.

With a growl, Alastor lunges at you, though you are still in his lap. You fall down to the rug and he’s on top of you, licking up every trace of golden blood. Nothing could ever compare to it, he’d once said, and it turns him feral every single time he sees it or smells it. He kisses you, gently sucking at that tiny wound until it closes way too soon and his fist pounds the floor in anger. He raises his head, looks at you, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, okay, but in bed,” you say.

Alastor picks you up quickly and tosses you onto it. He takes off his coat and throws it across the room. His bow tie is next, but you hold your hands out.

“Wait!” You say, reaching for him. “The shirt is my job.”

He grunts in his feral state, but he allows it, and soon his shirt is off and on the floor, forgotten.

“Where?” he asks raggedly.

“Where do you want?” you ask with a shrug. “This is your thing, but I’m happy to oblige. A bit. Not enough to make me dizzy.”

Permission granted, Alastor falls on top of you and goes straight for the jugular, literally. Just some sharp teeth and bam. He was drinking golden blood straight out of your neck, and you gave him the extra sensory delight of playing with his ears while he did so. He’s moaning, again and again, and you can feel how hard he is, pressed up against your body.

Eventually you decide he’s had enough and push his head away gently. Alastor kisses you instead, still giving animalistic energy, and rips away every article of clothing that separates you.

You can taste your own blood on his lips.

Somehow in this state Alastor remembers that he told you to come but didn’t let you and he quickly works to remedy that. His fingers enter you again. He knows your body well, he knows how to make you come in moments and you do, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Alastor finally leans back to look at the wreck he’s made of you and he smirks.

He holds one of your thighs against his waist and enters you fast, all at once, and the pace he sets is equally feral. Any time your blood came into the mix he truly could not help himself. His strokes are hard, deep, enough to make your knees wobble.

You hear him take a deep inhale and look up at him.

“My darling, the way you react to me, the way you react…Fit so perfectly, like your cunt was made just for my use.” Alastor bites at your neck again, but he won’t try to draw blood.

You grab one of the pillows and put it underneath your hips. This was an especially careful operation, considering how he was pounding you, but it tilted your hips and allowed for a more delicious angle.

Alastor’s clawed hand grabs your other thigh and squeezes hard. “What do you think, darling? Do you think this pretty little pussy was made for me?”

You nod several times, finding it harder and harder to catch your breath, but he’s without mercy this time. “Jesus…”

“Not an acceptable response, dearest,” he says with a little groan of exertion. He squeezes your thigh again. “Now, I believe I asked you a question. There’s only one correct answer, so give it to me.”

The sheets twist beneath your hands. There’s a decision to be made. Be forthwith and tell him yes or tease him until he’s out of his right mind.

“Damn it, darling,” he says impatiently.

You smirk. Let the teasing begin. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Alastor’s claws on your thigh almost drew more golden blood.

“You asked if my pussy was made just for you,” you say, your words coming out through pants because of his force.

His antlers grew larger, longer. His glare was menacing. His voice was dark.

“Then I suppose I must show you.”

The bed began to shake, and his tone shifted.

“Ah, my sweet darling, what I want to do to you right now is beyond description. I want to feel your softness, your warmth, your very essence against me, writhing under my touch. I want to take you, claim you, make you mine completely, with no doubting.”

“And how will you do that?” you ask playfully.

His hands grip you tighter, pulling you completely against him. He leans in, his lips trailing along your neck, his voice a low, dark growl in your ear.

“How will I do that, my sweet darling? I'm going to make you feel so good, make you scream from the pleasure of it. I'm going to kiss you, and touch you, and taste you, until you're so lost in pleasure you don't remember your own name or where you are.”

Your breath comes more and more harshly. “Did you soundproof the room?”

He gives you a look of pure incredulity. “Of course the room is soundproof! These precious little moans and gasps, they’re all mine, understand? Only I get to hear them, they belong to me!”

“Yes, yes!” You gulp for air.

“You do things to me, darling,” he says, “things that drive me absolutely wild. Your touch, your scent, your responsiveness, it all makes me ache and desperate for you. And you know it, don’t you?”

“I do my best.” You wink up at him. “Out of curiosity…what do I smell like?”

Alastor growls. “Ah, darling, you smell simply divine. I can't get enough of your soft, sweet scent. You smell like honey, like flowers, like the fresh air of a sunny day. It's intoxicating and completely addictive. I can't get enough of it, and I can't get enough of you. There will never be enough.”

“Keep me,” you whisper.

“Oh, darling,” he says. “Let there be no doubt in that. Yes, you're all mine. Mine to touch, mine to kiss, mine to have. I'm going to make sure you never forget that, darling. You're mine. Do you understand that?”

His hand comes up to gently squeeze at your throat, a warning.

You swallow, knowing he could feel every movement, and nod. “Yes, Alastor! Yes!”

His grip on your throat softens somewhat. “You just love to be under my control, don’t you?”

“I love being at your mercy,” you say with a moan.

“Is that so?” There’s a grin on his face that presses against his voice, dark and velvet. “And why is that? Tell me.”

Your eyes flutter closed. “Because I’m the only one safe at your mercy.”

“You’re right about that,” he says, pushing your thigh higher against your chest. “Look at you. Hair all mussed, lip swollen, bruises on your throat. And I did all of it. Tell me, darling. Tell me.”

“You did it. You did all of this to me, you’re the only one I want…”

That was what he truly wanted to hear, you knew. His jealousy is a problem and in all likelihood will continue to manifest itself, but at the root of it he just wanted to be the only one you had an appetite for. He fucks you harder and harder until you start screaming for him.

“Yes, yes,” he says, rubbing at your clit now. “Go on, make all of those beautiful, lascivious noises for me…”

You huff and gasp for breath. “Alastor, please, please let me come!”

He chuckles. “Yes, darling. That is the goal.”

When it hits you, you gasp first. Your hips grind against his, moving through it, along it, until it’s just too much—

But Alastor doesn’t stop. He holds you down, fucks you harder, draws it out for as long as he can. He smirks down at you as you shake for what he is doing to you—for you. His thumb circles your clit one last time before he’s finally merciful.

“So tight for me, darling,” he says, sucking the words between his teeth. It’s almost more than he can take, and he knows that it’s coming fast. He just…he needs something first.

He speaks in a gentler tone now, watching the bulge in your stomach move as he fucks you. “Darling…"

You’re still gasping for breath. “Yeah, honey? What is it?”

“Promise me that I’m…enough.”

“Enough?” You laugh, a raspy sound. “You’re too fucking much.”

Alastor lets out a gravelly moan, its intensity changing the pitch. You could almost swear that you can feel his cum inside you, all white and hot. When he finally stops moving, he leans against your thigh, chasing his breath.

“Bravo,” you say, putting your arms around him when he lays down beside you.

"I thought perhaps I had pleased you," he says, shuddering when you rub the base of his ears.

You laugh softly, breath finally caught. "Reconciled?"

Alastor nods. "Indeed. We are reconciled. If...you'll have me, anyway."

"I think that I will," you say, and from the corner of your eye, you see something on the wall and sit straight up, pointing. "That son of a bitch shadow of yours is stealing my feathers again!"

The smiling spectre flaunts his new feather and cuddles closer to your shadow. Maybe they were reconciled, as well.

[all444miles]

— JERSEY LUV PT.2

— pairing: e42!miles x blackcoded!fem!reader — genre: suggestive but fluff — summary: attractive things Miles does that makes you fold. — a/n: TY YALL FOR 500 OMG N HAPPY LATE BDAY TO MY MAN + WE BACK W A PT TWOOOO, i folded js as hard w this one so i hope yall do too!! i do have those two fics comin in, im js posting this to keep yall entertained! mwah, enjoy !!

part 1 part 3 !

MILES MORALES that's gets mad jealous, like, maddd jealous. When he's with others, he'll always call you "my girl" so that they know you're his girlfriend. He wont hesitate to kiss you in front of smb that thinks they have a chance. p.s, they don't.

MILES MORALES that cuddles for hours and won't let you leave unless your practically dying to go to the bathroom. If you try, he'll just hold you tighter.

"Nah amor, you gon stay right here." "Miles, I-" Nuh uh."

MILES MORALES who always has you sat on his lap. he's playing games? you on his lap. y'all talking? you on his lap. y'all making out? oh, you are most definitely on his lap.

speaking of making out..

MILES MORALES who has his hands all over you when you make out. there's no place it stays, your face, your neck, your hips, waist, thighs, its always there.

MILES MORALES who likes (and you do too) to have music play while yall kiss. summer walker, kehlani, he does not care. as long as its in your playlist and its slow, he's playing it.

MILES MORALES who invites you to go the gym with him. it dont matter if you actually work out or not, he just asks so he can have you there and watch him work out. he aint gon admit it though.

"ma! im bouta go to the gym, come wit me." "baby, you know ion work out." "ian ask if you wanted to. i just want you to be with me, so come onn." "you just want me to watch you, huh?" "..mami, im not bouta ask you twice, come with me."

MILES MORALES that will happily let you borrow his clothes, there's not even much of a point of trying to steal them because he's already handed them to you.

MILES MORALES who dances bachata with you in private. he's not too much of a public dancer, but when you to are in private, it's a whole different story.

MILES MORALES who will listen to you talk about anything becuase he adores your voice with all his heart. If it's something you like, he'll buy it for you, just as a reminder than he listens.

"Go on ma, keep talking to me, I'm all ears."

MILES MORALES who grabs your waist instead of saying excuse me because he knows you like it.

MILES MORALES who has most definitely graffitied a place with both y'alls initials on it.

"awwee, my man breaking the law for me." "you like it?" "love it."

tags: @seraaphicss @laaailuh @mayeluvsu @iwannagohomesaystamaki @onginlove @sheluvv-jen @laylasbunbunny @missusmorales @thatgirlmiah @paraccosm @tinkerbelle05 @fictarian @zalayni @m4rihrts @whitejxsmine @444morales @writings-ofthe-heart

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

that's it i'm officially DEAD and in tears omg zu.. oh my GOD zu omg i'm i can't even TYPE i'm shaking so hard it's so!!!! i'm so!!! ahjgzdyhagahgfd ZUUUUUU<33333

Happy birthday @yuriyuruandyuraart! ◟(๑•͈ᴗ•͈)◞

Ribbon (pink!Cross) & Buns (pink!Killer) by yuriyuruandyuraart respectively ;3

Cross from xtaleunderverse by jakei95

Killer by rahafwabas / rahaf-wabas / rahofy-sketch

+ the transparent one ehehe <3

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

hoodie season || Chan x Reader

Summary: You're not stealing Chan's hoodies. He's not happy about it.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings & Tags: Tooth-rutting fluff, established relationship, that should be it.

A/N: Wrote a silly lil one-shot for an idea I got tonight! This was literally written in under two hours, so, uh, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did lol and I apologize for any typos.

Reblogs, feedback and comments are welcome and encouraged!

It starts, without you being aware of it, on a July evening. You and Chan have only been dating for a couple weeks then, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. For the better half of the night, which you’re spending with his friend group, you’re in his arms, your back against his chest, his chin comfortably resting on your shoulder. Changbin and Jisung tease him about it, but he shrugs it off like it means nothing. He’s got you now, and he likes showing you off, so why wouldn’t he?

It does take you aback when he lets go of you and the cold hits you. It was hot outside all day, and you hadn’t realized that the temperature had dropped by this much. A shiver shakes you to your core, which Chan doesn’t miss, even if he’s being called away to play the guitar.

“You want my hoodie?” he asks, eyes filled with concern.

“No, I’m okay, babe,” you say with a smile. “I’ve brought a jacket.”

He nods, and that’s all there is to it.

It comes back on a night the two of you are spending out. Chan takes you out to this fancy restaurant, and you dress accordingly, always pleased when you get a chance to impress him — and impress him you do. He does that thing that you think is adorable, where he keeps giggling throughout the meal. Under the table, your knees keep touching, and every time, without fail, his ears turn bright red. You love that you still have that effect on your boyfriend of three months.

After that, because you’re near a park, you decide to go for a walk in the night air. It doesn’t take long before you’re shivering in your small, tight dress.

“I’ve got a hoodie in my car,” Chan says, ever the gentleman. “Want me to go get it for you?”

You’re not keen on being left alone in the dark, and your high heels mean that if you go with him, it’ll take much longer than it should. Plus, it would ruin your outfit.

“It’s fine,” you say, arranging your scarf so it wraps around your shoulders. “We’ll be heading home soon anyway, right?”

“Sure,” he nods quickly, and it’s your turn to giggle, because it’s so cute, how Chan always indulges you.

He ends up picking you up when you’re walking back too slowly for his taste, and you protest, but you’re no longer cold when you get to his car.

 The subject — which, by the way, you still haven’t realized is a subject — comes back yet again on a night you’re spending in his apartment. You’re coming out of the shower, a towel wrapped around you, and you’re going through your bag to find the clothes you’d planned on wearing for the night when something lands on the bed in front of you. You glance up to find Chan looking at you, leaning against the door frame.

“Just in case you get cold.”

You have, slowly but surely, made your way into November, but Chan’s place is warm, and you know you’ll have a human radiator, so you grin at him.

“I have a feeling I won’t be needing it tonight.”

Chan grins — but his ears turn red, even now.

 You do a Secret Santa, a few days before Christmas, with Chan and his friend group, at Changbin’s place. It’s an incredibly nice house, but it’s big and it’s old, and you soon find yourself huddling against Chan for warm. It makes him laugh at first, and he presses a kiss into your hair, arm solidly wrapped around you as he rubs your arm. When you don’t appear to warm up as the night keeps going, he disappears for a few minutes, ignoring your protests.

He comes back from his car and hands you one of his signature black hoodies.

“You’re my savior, babe,” you sigh as you pull it over your head.

Chan beams.

His victory is short-lived, though, because you pull away from him after that — with the hoodie, cuddling makes you too hot.

You leave the hoodie neatly folded in his car when you both go back to your place for the night.

It’s just a few days later that you meet Chan’s family for the first time. You’re all dressed-up, determined to do your best so that they’ll like you, even if Chan’s promised you that they would, no matter what, because he loves you, and that’s all they care about.

He dropped the word so easily, and you were left speechless. You haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Even now, when you’re sitting next to him, making small talk with his mom and listening to his sister tease him playfully, you have butterflies in your stomach. The hand he’s placed over yours on the table, again making it look so natural, so easy for him, isn’t helping.

“Wanna go for a midnight walk?” he offers, later that night. “It’s kind of a family tradition.”

“Sure,” you say, voice squeakier than usual, and he tilts his head as he studies you, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“You’re not dressed warm enough,” he warns you, and before you can say that you’ve brought appropriate clothing, he’s taking off his hoodie and pulling it down over your head. “There. All good.”

It’s late when you come back, so you both wish his parents a goodnight before Chan drives you back to your apartment. You wait until you’ve made it up the stairs and you’ve opened the door to put your arms around him and pull him down for a kiss. It’s soft, slow, and filled with all of your emotions.

“What’s that for?” Chan whispers against your lips. He’s warm against you, his hands on your hips, and you feel so grounded by him. You always do.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

The hoodie ends up forgotten on the floor.

You celebrate New Year’s Day with Chan’s friends, again, but really, they’re your friends by now. You get at Changbin’s house early so you can help with the cooking and decorating the place, and end up teaming up with Felix and Minho in the cooking department, while Hyunjin takes over the decorations and forbids everyone from approaching him while he works.

It’s not because he’s shy. It’s because he thinks you’re all terrible.

Chan arrives kind of late minute, busy working on songs, as always, while you’re putting out the drinks you’d brought with you. You greet him with a quick kiss. You still have a million things to do.

“I’ve got your hoodie in my bag, you should put it back in your car,” you just tell him as you rush back into the kitchen.

You miss the way he pouts at you.

It’s later that night, but still with a couple hours to go until midnight, that he approaches you while you’re outside, staring up at the night sky and enjoying the fresh air after hours cooped up inside. He wraps his arms around your waist, buries his head in your neck. You lean back into the familiar touch with a satisfied sigh — until he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What was that?” you ask with a frown.

Even with the only light coming through the windows of Changbin’s house, you can tell he’s blushing when he pulls away from you.

“Why aren’t you keeping my hoodies?”

You blink at him.

“…because they’re your hoodies?”

He opens his mouth, closes it.

“Yeah, but they’re kinda… your hoodies too, y’know?”

You tilt your head slowly, and soon, you’re unable to fight the grin that’s spreading on your lips as you watch him get increasingly pouty.

“Do you want me to steal your hoodies?”

The blush spreads.

“Do you like it when I wear them?”

You’re just having fun now.

“Yeah,” he answers, before cocking an eyebrow at you. “Think it’s hot, by the way.”

You burst out laughing, and he tightens his hold around you when that takes you away from him. God, do you love that man. Once you’ve collected yourself, you reach a hand up to gently cup his cheek.

“Okay, I’ll steal your hoodies. Anything for you, love.”

He smiles, satisfied, and kisses you softly. He brings a hand to cover yours, entangles his fingers with yours.

You don’t tell him, but the truth is, you feel warm and fuzzy all over inside whenever he’s around.

So you don’t see the point in having a hoodie when you can have him instead.

taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

Masterlist

[jaysswlvrr]

Never Have I Ever | Jake Sim

౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪"you sure you a virgin, baby?"

synopsis: You play a game called 'Never Have I Ever' a popular TV show with a cute boy named Jake in hopes of finding your true love. During the game, he figures out some cute things about you.

Your a... virgin?

warnings: protected sex,(FINALLY, I MADE IT HAPPEN), kissing, biting, make-outs, jake and y/n are famous but not k-pop way (like tiktokers or smth), you really trust each other, pet names ?, little degrading, and size kink scattered everywhere if u squint <3, mature topic and jokes, y/n is a virgin but she like INexperienced, you get me?

{☆} I don't like this so i might delete it if you guys don't like it.🤷🏽‍♀️

As you impatiently settled into your seat, the camera set pulled a thumbs-up. Your heart was racing with anticipation, and you couldn't wait for the show to begin. You felt the cameras flash and suddenly, your attention was diverted as a tall, handsome boy entered the room. His smile was infectious, and you feel drawn to him. As he walked over to his seat, you found yourself stealing glances in his direction.

"Hey, I'm Jake", he says and sticks out his veiny hands for a handshake. You smile and extend your hand, introducing yourself as "y/n". His hands are big and pretty compared to yours, which are small and neatly painted. His hands feel warm and soft as you shake them.

You were each given cards with questions to ask each other. If a question was too personal, the person would take a shot of a strong drink instead. The hope was that these shots would lead to revealing secrets unintentionally.

Which wasn't needed for you two.

#take 1

It has been about 20 minutes into the game, and you and Jake are really getting along[!]

It seems like you two connected straight away and wouldn't stop trying to make the other one blush. You even managed to sneak a hand under his thigh and caught him looking a bit too long, down your chest.

#take 2

"Never have I ever had a wet dream about someone I liked" he puts his hand on his chin, pretending to think. He writes on his board 'Not yet' and you question him.

"I'm probably going to have some about you tonight", he bites his lip, surprising you with his words. You cover your face, which is turning bright red, with your hands. Now it's his turn to laugh at you.

'ok last question !'

You squeal silently in your seat, kicking your feet as you start speaking again. "Never have I ever had proper sex" you laugh as if you don't know the answer.

"Well, I have" he sits up from his seat, cocking a brow as if he was asking you something "have you?".

Your face slightly burns up as you look down "No.."

Oh, he found you so cute, almost popped a boner. You were just so perfect, short, tiny, pretty, adorable, and most importantly, a virgin.

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watched you have a moment of shock.

The room lit up with bright lights as 'victory' music played. You guys had won the game, and you were awarded the title of the cutest couple on the show.

You were both stood up, and you looked at him as he intertwined ur fingers slowly walking off the set.

౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Oh, flip. You are having your first date with Jake, and you're trembling, not confident like you always are. You have gotten your nails done with French tips, and it's making it worse, as you can't get a stand of hair pulled back.

You curse to yourself, about to throw a tantrum while rushing to find a hairbrush, but it's okay; y/n always wins in the end.

You let out a loud huff as you looked at yourself again, practising different smiles for when you see him. Finally, you leave your house, enter your Uber, and reach the café in under 10 minutes.

I couldn't finish it right now, but obviously..

part 2?

(ill tag you if you reblog and comment!)

[maryland-no-rabies]

Tumblr (for newbies):

Reblogging ≠ reposting. You aren't stealing content by reblogging it, it's basically a 'group share' button. It also helps give artists/posts attention and you can reblog to interact with people. Reblog things you like.

Reblog bait. You can reblog it, but if a mutual hates reblog bait, you may tag it with 'reblog bait'. Or, find a tag with your mutual to put on posts they don't like, and block the tag under the 'content you see' tab in settings.

If someone reblogs your post, and you like their reblog, you just liked your own post.

(Sideblog section)

See my name? This is a gimmick. If a Tumblr says 'officially-(company/country/state)' then it's probably a gimmick! Check their content first because there are a few actual brand blogs, like Grammarly!

You can only make 250 posts (per email) on an account per day. This is called 'post limit' or 'PL'. I am currently on account 2, because I post too much. You may or may not hit post limit in your lifetime.

You can create as many sideblogs as you want, but you cannot like, follow, or send asks as a sideblog, and if you do so, it'll show up as from your main.

(Gimmicks)

Nobody can see your main from your sideblog, so you can have as many followers on your gimmick and none of them on your main

You will see gimmicks. A lot. It's fun.

You can interact with a gimmick as a non-gimmick

As a tumblr user, you have anon powers. You can turn any/most gimmicks into a pretty princess by typing something like '*turns you into a pretty princess*' into their ask box.

Nobody will be mad at you for making a gimmick. At all. There are like, 4 Jesus gimmicks. And it's great.

(General)

Tag a mutuals post with '10k to me', 'future 10k', '10k', or 'this will have 10k' for some fun chaos :3

Submit posts to PM Seymour's discord for MORE fun chaos

(General controls and understanding of Tumblr)

If you are in a youtube video online, you have broken containment

If you are getting a bunch of notifications from a post, you can hold down a notification from it or click the three dots on the post and click 'mute' to stop getting notifications (other than mentions)

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The 'following' tab is blogs and tags you follow

On Tumblr, you can add not only extra notes in the tags but also regular tags. Spaces are allowed

If you get an ask from a Palestinian blogger, check yourself (you may find places where it's vetted/verified in their reblogs. You can also tell by them having no photos/story at all [no name, no information, just a donate link], and scams commonly use photos from Google images. Be suspicious if there's anything other than GoFundMe or something similar. PayPal is banned there.) or send a screenshot to me/somebody who offered to help. Then, you can answer the ask so people who can donate can see it, or donate yourself. DO. NOT. PRESSURE. YOURSELF.

Tumblr has a unique punctuation, in a way. which you will figure out on your own. An example is. periods to show a slight. pause

It reminds me of poetry

You can post whatever you want and you will find your people

Block people who make you uncomfortable and report bots for spam.

Welcome to Tumblr

Do what you want forever

[braisedhoney]

SERIOUSLY IT FEELS LIKE THIS SOMETIMES WHAT THE—

(screaming relegated for tags, as always ;; omg)

🐝New hive art!🐝

@braisedhoney

Non canon as you like it❤️

Those are just some fun concepts/head-canons I drew bc Hive obsession never lets me go

🐝 Ship location drawing

I headcanon the idea that the whole ship runs on honey

(Honey is gathered and goes to producing food + producing honey fuel)

(Also wanted to draw 2 locations, but energy left me 😔 so 🫵maybe some day🫵)

🐝Pollinator’s backpack

(Basically took the idea of irl pollination)

Crewmate sticks the sucking tube in the flower, and it sucks up all of the nectar. Nectar is stored in “pollen baskets”

🐝Bee mecha

Bonus

Thanks to @demonicrhythms for showing me silly bear earrings💞🐻‍❄️