#well!!!!!! i can do whatever i want forever

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

���.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[fxstpace]

nice boys don’t kiss like that

summary: when your former rival chances upon your diary and reads all the unpleasant things you’ve written about him, he takes it upon himself to change your mind.

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader genres: fluff, developing relationship!au, rivals to lovers!au, pining, kind of suggestive? idk word count: 3.3k

↳ warnings: profanity, making out ↳ a/n: inspired by this scene from bridget jones’s diary. reposted from my old account.

It is on a twilit Saturday evening, at precisely 7:01 P.M, that Kim Mingyu is accosted by a notebook for the first time in his life.

He lets out a startled grunt and finds himself with an armful of things—a denim jacket, a crumpled grocery shopping list, an empty box of Tic Tacs, a woollen beanie with a questionable brown stain he thinks is ketchup; all presumably from whatever depths of your drawer he can see you hunched over, searching for something that remains stubbornly elusive. The offensive projectile whizzes past his shoulder and lands on the polished wooden floor with a thud.

Mingyu stands at the doorway to your bedroom, having bypassed the living room and hallway that leads to the kitchen in favour of pressing heated kisses to your cheeks and collarbones. He watches you, bemused. A few weeks ago, he might’ve laughed at your frazzled state with derision. Now, he still wants to laugh, but more in an affectionate way.

You turn around swiftly, nearly tripping on a stray stocking on the floor, and he bites back a smile when you mumble a string of curse words under your breath. 

“Hi,” you say, breathing heavily. “I’m really sorry.”

Then you slam the door shut on his face.

Well, Mingyu thinks. This is the first time a girl’s closed the door when I’m in her apartment.

Faced with nothing else to do except wait for your arrival, he drops the Tic Tac box on the floor, hangs your jacket and beanie on the back of the sofa, and almost stubs his toe on the corner of the notebook.

Wincing at the close call, Mingyu glares at the book like it’s the cause of all his troubles. DIARY, it reads, embossed in ornate gold letters. The cover is a rich shade of red, rough and leather-bound. He picks it up; it’s rather heavy, and judging by the frayed corners and the random bits of paper poking out of the sides, it seems to be quite old too. Regardless, it is well-cherished—he knows this because he knows you, and you’re the kind of person who wears your heart on your sleeve.

Which is why he knows opening it is a bad idea. 

Mingyu shrugs and places the book on the coffee table, taking a seat on the plush, olive green sofa opposite it. He leans his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers under his chin. From the inside of your room, he can hear muffled screaming—should he be worried? The screaming stops. Mingyu lets his tense shoulders relax.

His eyes zero in on your diary once more. He shouldn’t open it—he really, really shouldn’t. It would be a horrible breach of your privacy. Your trust in him would be broken forever, and even if he somehow manages to win it back, it will always be a stain in the fabric of your still-developing relationship.

But.

One tiny peek can’t hurt, right? He’s only waiting for you to come out of your room, after all. Just one little look, and then he’ll close the book immediately. It can’t possibly hurt. Curiosity is both a blessing and a vice, he figures, and since he’s already stacked up on vices, there is no harm in adding to his karmic points.

So he picks up your diary and flips to a random page, freezing momentarily when he hears an irritated grunt and the sound of something hitting the floor from inside your room. Your handwriting is a lot messier than it usually is; you probably save your best penmanship for official things, and your personal diary is not one of them. That, or you were just frustrated.

12th June I fucking hate Kim Mingyu. I hope I never have to see him and his stupid handsome obnoxious face EVER AGAIN. I’m so DONE with him.

Mingyu’s cheeks prickle with heat. He’s thoroughly invested now. He turns to another page.

14th June Ran into KMG again today. He spilled coffee all over me what else is new but. he actually apologised!!! Crazy. Maybe he was just in a good mood. Either way, my new blouse is ruined so fuck him.

The strangest thing is that Mingyu actually remembers that day vividly. You were wearing a gorgeous cream-coloured blouse, and he was so caught up in staring at you talking animatedly with your supervisor that he zoned out completely and accidentally spilled his coffee on you because he tripped over his shoelaces. Now, knowing that your blouse was new at the time brings up a slight twinge of guilt. He’ll ask you about it later.

22nd June KMG is actually…… kinda nice? He supported me in the meeting today with the clients when they were being so tiresome. He has a nice smile I guess.

Mingyu smiles widely. 

23rd June Nevermind. I take back everything I said. Kim Mingyu is a prat with zero social skills. I mean, would it kill him to say hello back??? I get that he’s busy but i thought we’d made progress. One thing is for sure. Kim Mingyu is NOT nice. Not even a little bit.

His smile falters.

The next page contains a similar anecdote—something about how he always vehemently disagrees with everything you say, and how despite his good looks he was a complete and utter asshole. Further investigation reveals the same thing: you hate Kim Mingyu with a burning passion.

And… Well, he couldn’t lie and say the feeling wasn’t mutual at one point in time—but it has mellowed down since then, gently and slowly, like a fallen leaf being carried by a soft wind. There came a day where Mingyu found himself glaring at you, not with disdain in his eyes, but with a steady thrum in his chest where his heart lay. Later, he would realise that he didn’t hate you—not even a little bit.

He assumed you felt the same way. Why else would your smirks, so full of malice, melt into grins that could light up a whole town? Why else would you agree to go on a date with him when he asked you out, one day, after work, tripping over his words like an elementary schoolboy? Why else would you invite him home and ask him to spend the night?

Of course, it doesn’t explain why you’ve locked yourself up in your bedroom currently (frankly, he’s a bit befuddled about that). But the sentiment must still be there.

It’s a diary, he reasons. 

It’s your diary, his brain screams back, and that’s the real issue here, isn’t it?

Diaries are full of crap, anyway, he thinks to himself.

Diaries contain the Real Thoughts And Emotions of a human being, his brain hollers back.

Mind swirling, Mingyu closes the book and places it back on the coffee table, barely aware of his movements. Have you been lying to him? No, there’s absolutely no way—he trusts you far more than that, and besides, what would you even lie to him about? There are no benefits to stringing him along, and you’re not the kind of person who would do something like that, anyway.

You must have had a change of heart, then. That’s the only conclusion he can think of. Your diary entries come to a standstill after 27th June, which means you haven’t opened it in a while. It’s also around the same time you stopped picking fights with each other. Something must have changed by then; Mingyu is glad it did.

Satisfied with his deduction, Mingyu stuffs his hands in his pockets and crosses his ankles together. Behind your bedroom door, you remain suspiciously silent. He considers knocking on the door once to make sure you’re okay—or if you need any help, because staying put inside your room for over twenty minutes is certainly not normal when you have a guest and potential boyfriend over. 

Almost as if you’ve heard his thoughts, the door to your room swings open. You stand at the doorway, breathing heavily.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, quickly standing up. “Everything good?”

You beam at him. “Perfect. Sorry to have kept you waiting, I—”

Your gaze drops to the coffee table, landing on your diary. Mingyu keeps his gaze fixed on you. You look back at him, lips parted. 

“Um,” you begin. “It’s— It’s just a diary.”

“Clearly.” Mingyu fights back a smile.

You chew your bottom lip nervously. “Did you read it?”

“I did,” he confirms, nodding. “I’m sorry. I was just curious—”

You groan, lifting your hands and covering your face with your palms. “Fuck.”

Mingyu reaches out and encircles your wrists with his fingers, gently tugging your hands away from your face. He finds it oddly endearing. “It’s only a diary. I’m sorry I read it. I shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t care about that. You… you probably read all the horrible, mean things I wrote about you.”

“Well,” he says, shrugging a little, “some of the entries were definitely… interesting.”

You blink. Unable to help himself, Mingyu drops a light kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” you tell him.

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Mhm.”

“Mingyu.”

“I’ll tell you what I think about your diary later, ‘kay?” he says, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. “Come with me.”

“What? Where?” Confusion paints your features.

Mingyu huffs out a laugh. “Just trust me.”

Mingyu places the brand-new diary he’d bought for you on the dining table with a flourish. “D’you have a pen?”

You eye him suspiciously, gaze darting between him and the new, dark green notebook on the table. He grins, carefree and indulgent. Still wary, you hand him a blue ballpoint pen from the pen stand placed above the drawers to the left. He hums and uncaps it.

Flipping open the book to the first page, he bends down and writes slowly.

This book belongs to Kim Mingyu and

Mingyu stops writing and holds the pen out expectantly to you. “Here. Write your name.”

Confused, but curious, you oblige. Your name, written in your handwriting, next to his own semi-legible scrawl, makes a warm, affectionate feeling bubble up inside his chest. He wonders what it would look like when both your names are signed next to each other on a marriage certificate. Then, he wonders when and where your wedding would take place. A summer wedding sounds nice, but the sweltering heat might be a bit of a problem. Winter weddings are beautiful for sure, but neither of you is a big fan of the cold.

He’s in the process of thinking of names for your children and pet dog when you break him out of his daze. 

“Hey. What’s all this about, hm?” You nudge his shoulder lightly with yours.

Mingyu says, “It’s a diary, but for both of us.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. He swings an arm over your shoulder and draws you closer to him, smiling when flyaway strands of your hair tickle his cheek. 

“In your old diary, it was pretty obvious you, uh, didn’t like me much,” he explains, holding up his free hand when you open your mouth to protest. “I don’t blame you. We were assholes to each other most of the time. But we’ve moved past that. At least, I hope we have.”

Your reply is instantaneous. “Of course. Of course, we have.”

Mingyu trails his fingers absent-mindedly over your arm. “Right. And… It’s kind of silly, I guess—I don’t know—but I thought—if we kept a new diary together, one that we could use to document our journey, with both our perspectives in the same place—I thought it would be nice.”

Your mouth parts and you look at him, an indiscernible expression on your face. He shifts from one foot to the other, feeling suddenly nervous. You don’t betray any hint of emotion on your face, but Mingyu’s heart hammers inside his chest. What if you think he’s being silly and overly sentimental? What if you find the idea ridiculous?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he quickly backtracks. “I know we’ve only just moved past the idea of being more than friends, but—” He stops himself.

“But…?” you gently prompt him, twisting around to see him better.

Mingyu swallows. “But I can’t imagine not being with you.”

He hears your sharp intake of breath, and in the next moment, the breath is knocked out of his lungs when you throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a tight, rib-squeezing hug.  Automatically, his arms circle your waist, and he presses a light, barely-there kiss to the junction of your neck and jaw. 

Eyes shining happily, you pull back slightly with a wide grin on your face. “You’re so hopelessly romantic, it makes my chest hurt.”

“Consider this your trial run. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He sighs, content. “Okay, I won’t.”

“What should our first diary entry be about?” you ask, loosening your hold on him.

“About how you ditched me inside your house for almost half an hour after you invited me over.” He’s only half-joking.

You look away, embarrassed and sheepish. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“I’m being serious, Mingyu.”

“So you’ve said,” he agrees breezily.

“Actually,” you begin, a tad shy, “I was thinking it could be about this—about how you bought us a diary and then kissed me in front of the dining table after we christened the book.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen, but before he can get a word in edgewise, your lips are already centimetres away from his. “May I?” you whisper.

“Yeah. ‘Course,” he murmurs back.

The kiss makes him feel dizzy, like he’s had one too many bottles of soda—fizzy and light-headed. Your lips are soft, mouth warm; you taste like chocolate, and he licks into your mouth desperately. His fingers dig into your waist, bunching up the material of your t-shirt, and you run your hand through his hair, tugging gently. He’s kissed you before, of course, but something about this time feels important, a core memory sort of thing. Later that night, he’ll sit beside you on your bed and watch as you write in your shared diary, and he’ll make fun of the way you chew on your pen cap when you’re thinking of what to write next and you’ll shut him up with a kiss.

But for now, he indulges himself whole-heartedly. You let out little gasps which he swallows with his mouth. He tilts his head and kisses you deeper. Only when his lungs are burning does he pull away, and even then, not without a parting peck to the space in between your eyebrows.

“Mingyu,” you say, breathless. 

“Yeah?” he responds, unable to tear his gaze off of your kiss-bitten lips.

“I really am sorry about what I wrote about you,” you apologise, looking down once and then back at him. “It’s only a diary—everyone knows diaries are full of crap.”

“I know.” Mingyu smiles tenderly. “I’m not mad.”

“You should be. I would be, if I was in your place.”

His eyes dart back to meet yours, and he grimaces. “If you really think about it, I’m the one who should be apologising, not you. I shouldn’t have read your diary, no matter how curious I was.”

“I… don’t really care about that, weirdly enough,” you say thoughtfully. “I was more worried about the fact that you thought I hated you and you were gonna leave me. Not so much about you reading the diary itself.”

“Pfft,” Mingyu says, affectionately condescending. “If I left you, where would I go?”

Your mouth parts as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “Jesus. How do you say things like that unironically?”

“I could compose whole sonnets about you and it wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s ironic, I hope.”

He tilts his head and pulls you close. “Only one way to find out.”

When he captures your lips with his this time, it’s with colliding bodies and biting teeth. He runs his tongue across your bottom lip, and you shudder in his arms, moaning. Somehow, you stumble back into the living room, a mess of tangled limbs.

Briefly pulling away, Mingyu sits down on the same sofa he’d occupied earlier and clumsily pulls you onto his lap. You brace your hands on his shoulders for support, lifting your head up when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you gasp, eyes falling shut.

He hums against your skin. “Tell me what you were doing in your room for so long.”

“I was—ah—it’s embarrassing.”

Mingyu stops his movements. “I won’t judge you.”

“I know,” you say, teeth worrying your lower lip. “I’ll tell you someday.”

When you purse your lips, ready for him to kiss you again, Mingyu lets out a soft laugh. “Sweetheart.”

“What?” 

“I think I need to correct some of your… perceptions of me,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“I’m sorry about your blouse,” he whispers. “You looked really pretty wearing it, you know. Got distracted. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Mingyu, I don’t know what you’re talking—” You gasp when he kisses the column of your throat.

“I’m sorry for being obnoxious,” he continues, lowering his head and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck. “But I’m not sorry you think I’m handsome.”

“Only your face,” you mutter, but you tug on his hair to get him to tilt his head up. When he does, you kiss him again, your hands warm and placed on the junctions where his neck meets his shoulders. 

“I’ll support you in more than just meetings,” he says, pulling back. His breath ghosts over your lips, prompting a shiver to pass through your body. Your eyes widen when you finally, finally realise what he’s talking about. “I’ll tell those stupid clients to shut up and take it.”

You laugh, bright and happy, and Mingyu wants to bottle the sound up greedily. “That sounds kinda wrong,” you say.

He shrugs, his smile turning lopsided. “I’m sorry for ignoring you when you said hi to me. I won’t do it ever again.”

You laugh again, teeth flashing in the warm glow of the living room lights.

There’s an odd feeling in Mingyu’s chest—something warm and golden—something he can only describe as being terribly, hopelessly lovesick for you.

He whispers your name again, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Tell me what you were doing in your room for so long.”

You groan again, your previous amusement turning into embarrassment. Your next words are muffled by his shoulder, your lips warm against his clavicle as you mumble something only you can understand.

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you,” Mingyu says mischievously.

 Another sound of mortification.

“I won’t laugh,” he says. “Promise.”

“Underwear,” you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. “I was searching for a better pair of underwear than the one I had on.”

To his credit, Mingyu really doesn’t laugh. It takes a lot of effort, though, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent his giggles from escaping. 

You lean back and narrow your eyes at him. “Oh, go on. I know you’re dying to laugh.”

He shakes his head, cheeks blown out like a pufferfish. You stare at him quietly.

Minutes later, he exhales shakily. “See? I didn’t laugh. I’m a nice guy.”

His lips find yours again, slower and more languorous this time. After all, he has all the time in the world now—to hold you like this, kiss you gently—and he plans to cherish each second. Your tongue swipes his lower lip, and he parts his mouth willingly. He feels like putty underneath you, as he uses one of his hands to cup your face and deepen the kiss. Your lips move against his, already familiar, but he could never stop craving it.

When you pull back to breathe, your eyes are wide and your lips are swollen—a fact that Mingyu notes with pride.

“Nice boys don’t kiss like that,” you breathe out.

“Oh, yes, they fucking do.”

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part8. a complete silence rule

MINORS DNI!

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you and Vi came to library for studying, but she can`t resist touching you

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 1.9k

✎ warnings: 18+, smut, dom!vi, oral sex, fingering, sex in public place

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

a week after Vi was discharged from the hospital, she returned to college. she wasn’t allowed to play yet, but she didn’t miss a single practice, even if it just meant warming up with the others and then sitting on the bench to watch. she recovered quickly, but if you hadn’t insisted, she would’ve tried to play on the first day back. the doctor had strictly forbidden it, and you made sure to keep an eye on her. though Vi was eager to return to her normal pace, full recovery required time, as the risks were still too high.

another bit of good news - Troy was no longer on the team or even at college. you saw him clearing out his locker as his parents and security escorted him away. when you asked your dad if he knew anything about it, he simply kissed your forehead and told you not to worry. either way, you didn’t mind; whatever your father had done, it had worked. truth be told, it even scared you a little, but Troy got what he deserved. naturally, all accusations were dropped, and your mom mentioned in confidence that your father had threatened Troy’s family, saying you’d press charges for assault and all the vile things their son had done. it was a relief to finally exhale; for a moment, it even felt like the air without your ex was lighter.

without Troy’s bullying, Josh finally left the team, free from the person who’d tormented him for years. he seemed to have started playing guitar in his garage. but the biggest surprise was that he’d found a partner. according to Trish, they met at the last match and hit it off, though homophobic Troy had always intimidated Josh, and for good reason. long story short, many people in his social circle felt better without him, and you were glad it was over.

after classes, you met Vi in the parking lot. she kissed you on the lips and wrapped her arms around your waist, letting her hands slide lower. smiling mid-kiss, she murmured, “maybe I should transfer to another school”

“and why’s that?” you teased, slipping your hands under her shirt, pushing her jacket aside, and pulling her closer, which made Vi bite your lip.

“I can’t focus on school or anything serious when you walk around looking so gorgeous and tempting,” she said, squeezing your hips and leaning you against the hood of her car.

“I can’t stand my loneliness, especially when you two are kissing so sweetly out here for all to see,” interrupted a voice. it was Trish, standing behind you with her arms crossed. “just a reminder, Vi, that I was the one who first told your new girlfriend how beautiful you are, so both of you owe me”

finally, you and Vi let go of each other and laughed. Vi took your hand and said, “and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it”

“ready to go?” you asked Trish, who was still grinning as she watched the two of you.

“I came to say I won’t be able to make it today. mom’s not feeling well, and I want to stay with her. do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” Trish said, looking a little apologetic.

“of course, no problem at all. send her my best and wish her a speedy recovery. if she’d like, I can bring over some of my mom’s special soup; it’s really delicious,” you replied understandingly.

“that would be wonderful. thank you, I’ll text you about tomorrow” Trish gave you a quick hug goodbye before hurrying home.

“where were you two going, and what’s been rescheduled for tomorrow?” Vi asked, curious.

“the library. we have a history test coming up, and Trish and I often go there to focus. there’s a total silence rule, so we can’t gossip or listen to music. it sounds odd, but we get distracted so easily that the library’s our only hope,” you explained.

“want me to go with you?” she looked into your eyes. “unless this is some kind of special friend ritual?”

“no, no, nothing like that, but are you sure you want to sit quietly for an hour with a history book?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“yes, especially since I have the test too. I’m not playing right now, so the coach won’t be able to get me extra credit for athletic involvement,” Vi said a little sadly, clearly missing her usual active lifestyle. but you weren’t giving in - the doctor’s orders were law, especially for Vi, and she deserved the best care.

“alright, then, let’s go,” you decided to steer the topic away from sports to take her mind off it.

“why an hour, though?” Vi asked, referring to what you had mentioned earlier.

“well, it’s not strict or anything, just a rule Trish and I came up with: an hour of uninterrupted studying, then any break or distraction we want. it’s like a little motivation,” you shrugged with a smile.

“if it’s the rule, then let’s follow it,” Vi said as she opened the passenger door for you and got behind the wheel.

ten minutes later, you arrived. there weren’t many people there, so you took your and Trish’s usual seats near the bookshelves. as you’d told Vi, there was complete silence, only occasionally broken by the sound of turning pages. Vi sat next to you, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. when she turned back, she caught you staring at her hands, biting your lip, which made her smile and raise an eyebrow. you felt a bit embarrassed, but it wasn’t surprising - you never focused on Trish this way, yet with Vi nearby, you realized it might be a little harder to concentrate.

you quickly looked away, pulling out a sheet with the test questions. each question had a list of recommended books to review. pointing out a few titles to Vi, you both set off to find them. the history section had plenty of books, so it took a little time to gather what you needed.

Vi leaned over to you and very quietly asked where she should find a particular book, you pointed to the bottom shelf, and she nodded. running your eyes over the stand with books, you saw that a little higher is hidden a book, the author of which is your teacher, usually it is occupied by someone, but today was a good day. when you reached for her, Vi looked up and was very pleased with what she saw. the length of your skirt gave a good view of your underwear, which made Vi feel incredible desire and attraction. she carefully stood up and slowly ran her hand down your leg from your ankle to your thigh until her fingers were under your skirt. you almost didn't let go of the book from your surprise, your eyes became round and goosebumps ran through your body, you wanted to say something, but Vi only put her index finger to her lips. she took the book and placed it on the shelf, leaving her other hand on your butt, glancing over at you, she smiled at you, desire burning in her eyes, you felt incredibly attracted to her, so you moved a little closer. her lips covered yours, you tasted her as her warm tongue slipped between yours, Vi pulled you closer to you, squeezing your butt tighter, her other hand ending up under your shirt, her thumb gently caressing your skin as her lips kissed you.

she pulled away from you and leaned into your ear, saying “the rule of complete silence, remember?”. her fingers ran up the fabric of your panties under your skirt and she ran her hand down touching you. she smirked when she felt how wet you were, running a finger over your clit you rested your head on her shoulder holding back a moan. every movement seems very slow and you wanted more, you could feel the vibrations going through your body when her finger started stimulating your clit more actively, you held on to her with your hands so you wouldn't fall. she covered you with her lips again and you felt her finger enter you, a wave of pleasure covered your body, you immediately started to move on it, kissing her more passionately, your hips moving and your body getting heavier. she wasn't about to stop, her finger digging into you harder and harder as you struggled to hold back a scream. only the rustle of the books reminded you where you were now, you almost didn't care, you could feel your wetness running on her finger, you were so wet and excited that you didn't care if they could hear you now, you wanted her touch, you wanted to cum from her fingers, you wanted to show her what pleasure she brings you. when her second finger was inside you tightened your grip on her, and Vi sped up as much as possible, your legs were just shaking at this point. Vi's other hand pulled your bra down and squeezed your breasts, you threw your head back and surrendered to the feeling, you came so hard it made your head spin. holding you, she pulled her hand out of your panties and pressed you against the bookshelf, kissing you again. her lips moved to your neck and trailed down.

“what are you doing?” you said almost inaudibly in surprise.

Vi just looked up at you and answered “you said we had an hour”

goosebumps ran down your spine and she returned to your neck again, kneeling, Vi placed your leg over her shoulder and lifted your skirt, putting her index finger to her lips again to keep you quiet.

her fingers gently pulled your panties to the side, and she ran her tongue over your pussy, collecting a mess you had done earlier. your body was so heavy that you grabbed the shelf with one hand to keep from falling. her lips pressed against your wetness, she didn't tease like before, her tongue was immediately inside you, you opened your mouth again in a silent moan and ran a hand into her hair. Vi's hands wrapped around your ass, and she ate you out greedily as you held back a moan. she was sucking your clit and running her tongue which was giving you incredible pleasure, you were moving your hips to ride her face as she explored your most intimate place. the second orgasm didn't take long, you came from her tongue even faster than from her fingers. you didn't have any strength left, but how nice it was. she put your panties back in place and climbed on top of you.

“I see you liked it,” she said teasingly. you just bit your lip and nodded, straightening your skirt.

“maybe next time I can sit on your face properly” you winked at Vi and ran your finger over her lips which were still wet from you.

“no reason to wait, you can still stand so…” Vi smiled and took your things and led you by the hand out of the library to the questioning looks of the others.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 30

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,855ish

Summary: You and Logan still struggle with your relationship. The two of you make a decision to help ease the struggles.

Warnings: Emotional, Angst, Injuries

Notes: crossing my fingers that you guys will be okay with this chapter...

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

“So, how are you and Logan doing?” Ororo asked one morning at breakfast.

“Fine,” you responded with a shrug. “We have a lot of work to do, but we’re working through it.”

“He does seem a little more on edge around the kids, as do you.”

You sighed. “I’ve actually been thinking… I think Logan and I should go away for a while.”

“Wait, you two want to leave?”

“I haven’t brought it up to Logan yet, and it wouldn’t be forever… we just need a space where we can focus on just the two of us. We’re constantly thrown every which way with classes, missions, and world-ending scenarios. Logan and I need to simply be us for a while and figure out what that means.”

“I… do whatever you have to do.” Ororo stood up. “I’ve got a class to teach.”

“Ororo, please stay and talk.” 

But she slipped out of the room. You sighed, hiding your head in your hands. That was the position Logan found you in. He quietly came up behind you and rested your hands on your shoulders. He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered against your neck.

You leaned back into him, looking up at him. “I made Ororo upset.”

“What did you do?” You sighed, looking back down. “Hey.” He sat down beside you. “I thought we were doing better with the talking shit.” He hooked a finger under your chin and guided your face to look at him. “Tell me.”

“I told Ororo about something I was going to talk to you about.”

“And that was…?”

“About leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“I was thinking that we need some time to ourselves. To figure things out and just be us.”

“But this is your home. Would you really be okay leaving it?”

“Logan, you’re my home. And you were long before this was.”

Logan studied your gaze and could see that you were telling the truth, but he worried that after a while, he wouldn’t be enough. You at least had people here, other mutants, to lean on when the two of you were struggling. If it’s just you and him? Then you’d have no one. Logan was okay with that for himself but not for you.

“I thought that we’ve been doing well here,” Logan said, trying to see if he could get you to change your mind. 

His words took you back. “You want to stay? You’re constantly trying to run.”

“I just want you to really think about it, sweetheart. I don’t want you to leave and then regret it.”

“You think that I’d regret being with you?”

“That’s not what I said—“

You pulled away, standing up. “But it’s what you meant, right?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” He stood up as well, growing angry. 

“Do you not want this long-term, Logan? Am I just your person until a new, better one comes along?”

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

“Morning! Oh—“ Bobby stopped in the doorway. “I can see that this is not a good time, so I—“

“No, Bobby, we’re done here,” you told him, rushing off.

“Y/N!” Logan yelled after you, hurrying to follow you. He followed you into the gardens. “Now, who’s running?!”

“Oh, please,” you spun around. “You’ve wanted to run since the moment you got here!”

“Yes, but I stayed for you!”

“Oh, I feel so honored.”

“You know what, maybe I should go. Since it’s clear that I’m unable to hit the high expectations you have set for me.”

“You are the reason for those high expectations.”

“Ugh! I’m not that person anymore! And I’m sick and tired of feeling like shit all the time about that!”

Logan’s hand flew out as he was talking, his claws accidentally unsheathing. Before either of you knew it, the claws were cutting against your cheek. You gasped, stumbling back as your hand came up to hold your cheek.

“Oh my God,” he sputtered. He hid his claws before reaching for you. “Sweetheart—“ You stepped back, breaking both of your hearts. Logan’s fingers were tingling. If you didn’t let him try to fix this—if you didn’t let him touch you, Logan would never trust himself to touch someone again. “Please let me—“

“No,” you shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks. “Just… leave me alone.”

You rushed off back into the mansion. You knew that Logan didn’t mean to hurt you, but you needed time and space. 

Logan was frozen in his spot. The high emotions had gotten the best of both of you, but especially his claws. He had hurt you, and he was fully conscious for it. This was different than him having a nightmare. This was much worse.

~~~

You had sat in front of the mirror, watching the three cuts along your cheek heal into scars. Tears streamed down your face the entire time while you thought of Logan. Both of you were in the wrong here, and this was a complete accident. You were thinking about what to say to Logan when you started to hear drawers slamming in Logan’s room. Rushing out of your room, you looked into his room to see him stuffing his clothes into a bag.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

Logan spun to face you. Slowly, his hand reached out to brush against the scars on your cheek, but he didn’t let his hand actually make contact.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” his voice was completely broken, tears lining his eyes. “I never wanted to be the one to hurt you… yet I keep doing it.” He shook his head and got back to packing. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I can’t keep hurting you. I can’t be the person you need… The person I was before…”

“And this will make it better? I’ve messed up in this relationship, too. This is not just on you. I’m sorry for making it seem like I’m forcing you to be that person again. I know that you’ve changed, so I have, and that’s okay. I still love you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Stop that.” You slipped in between him and the dresser. He kept his head down, not willing to make eye contact. “Fine. Tell me you don't love me, and I’ll let you walk away. But you have to look me in the eye and be honest with me.”

You nibbled your bottom lip as you waited for Logan to make the next move. You could tell that there was a war waging in his mind. His eyes suddenly snapped to yours.

“I… I can’t do that,” he murmured. “I love you.”

You quickly pulled him by his shirt to kiss him. He dropped his bag and slid his hands to the small of your back.

“If you really want to leave,” you whispered against his lips, “then you have to take me with you.”

“Okay,” he replied. 

~~~

“It’s not forever,” you said as you hugged Ororo. “We’ll stay in contact and visit. Logan and I just need to figure things out.”

“I’ll miss you,” Ororo responded, pulling back. “I’ll miss the both of you.”

“You ready?” Logan asked, coming up from the truck he had just packed. 

He had already said goodbye to Marie and Bobby before packing the truck, knowing that you would need some time with Ororo.

“I think so,” you responded. “See you later, Ororo.”

“See you,” she replied.

You took Logan’s hand, and he led you to the truck. He opened the door and helped you in before going around to the driver’s seat. You turned back and watched as the mansion grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Logan placed a hand on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Are you okay?” He asked, clearly concerned. “We can turn back around.”

You laced your fingers through his and scooted closer to Logan, very thankful for the bench seat. “I’m okay,” you told him. You kissed his shoulder. “Where are we headed?”

“I have a place in mind.”

“Care to tell?”

“Not yet. Why don’t you get some rest?”

“You sure?”

He leaned over and kissed your head. “I’m sure.”

You hummed in content as you rested your head on his shoulder and let yourself relax. Logan’s lifted up in a barely-there smile as you tried your best to cuddle into him. 

~~~

You didn’t bother to ask Logan where the two of you were headed again. You kept yourself occupied with books and naps when you weren’t talking to Logan. It was already proving to be worth it, as the farther the two of you drove from the mansion, the less tension there was. Logan insisted on driving the whole way, and so far you’ve had to beg him to stop to sleep in motels for the three nights you’ve been on the road so far.

It didn’t shock you when the two of you crossed over into Canada. You figured that Logan would always feel a call back there. The shock factor was later as the two of you drove up an old, familiar road in the Canadian Rockies.

“Logan, where—“

“Just patience, okay?” He cut you off. “I’ll explain soon.”

You simply nodded, focusing on the trees you were passing out the window. Your heart started pounding the closer you got to the top. Before you knew it, the small house appeared and Logan was pulling up to it. It looked just how you remembered it. You were too busy staring that you didn’t realize Logan had gotten out of the truck and walked around to your side. He opened the door and took your hand.

“Come on,” he urged, tugging you out of the truck. “Let’s go inside.”

“Inside?” You repeated. “It’s probably a disaster. We—“ Your eyes widened as Logan pulled you inside. The place was clean, updated, and furnished. “What? How?”

“Charles. We had a conversation about when Jean died, and I got part of my memories back. He knew that we would need a place to start over and found where we used to live. Before I could stop it, he had people here fixing it up.”

You let go of his hand and began slowly walking around the house. Your hands gently trailed against the walls and updated pieces of furniture. 

“You and Charles…” you breathed out. “You did all this?”

“Is it okay?” Logan was clearly nervous. “We can go somewhere else. I just know that this was the—“ You shut him up with a kiss.

“This is perfect. Thank you. But know that I don't expect you to be the same person as before. Time has changed both of us… are you okay with being here?”

“Yes. I even already got a job as a lumberjack.”

“Oh, got the old job back?”

Logan chuckled. “Somethin’ like that. I start in a week.”

“So I have a week of you all to myself?”

“A whole week.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Can we try out the new bed?”

A devious smirk formed over Logan’s lips. “I thought you’d never ask.”

next chapter >

[gelatonic]

Idk if you write for Leo Valdez but if you do!

Him and reader being enemies, like the whole camp has known about it. It’s a whole thing. Kinda annoying atp, like people just want them to get over it.

Chiron wanted the reader to help the Hephaestus cabin with a project and they end up being the last people there. getting stuck in bunker nine because someone forgot about them and locked the door and it was jammed, it was already passed dinner so likely shot was that they’d be found in the morning

One thing led to another, and reader said Leo didn’t know how to fuck. Leo took that as a challenge

(If it’s okay could I be🫀 or🚂 anon? And if you don’t write for Leo, you can switch it up to fit another character!)

leo x f!bratty!reader ꩜ .ᐟ ignore how long this took plz lovie ;3 smut!

it all started when he decided to be a meanie to you

here you were, minding your business and being all cute while you dance at the bonfire for the camp, and Leo Valdez has to go and comment something slanderous towards you!!!!!! yelled something about how he could dance better, and you just couldn't accept that, getting all huffy and puffy with crossed arms as you choose to ignore him forever from then on, except his stupid nagging wouldn't stop! it seems everything you do, he just has to comment on, but you weren't going to take that, no! so you bite back, things escalate, and now here you were with your one and only enemy at camp, Leo Valdez.

everyone else seemed to like you, yeah, so when Chiron asks you to help out with the hephaestus cabin, ofc you say yes!!!! why wouldn't you? all the other kids there besides Leo are such sweeties, you don't mind! but then it turns out its just Leo who needs help, which leads to you being cooped up with him in bunker nine :(

and so inevitably, he just has to say something not very nice to you, so you just have to say something back. but you just look so cute when you argue, when you get up to leave, he almost stops you! but Leo doesn't have to, when it seems you can't yank your way out the door.

you turn back, cheeks all puffed up and tinged pink as you cross your arms at him and stifle back to sitting on the floor, glaring at it. "can't believe I'm stuck with an idiot like you," you grumble, legs criss-cross applesauce on the floor, letting Leo look at the way your already-short skirt rides up your thighs.

"yeah, sweetheart?" he says exasperatedly, setting down his wrench and stopping whatever he's working on so he can get a good look at how upset you were right now, with that stupid smirk on his face! "its not like I want a brat like you here either, y'know."

"brat!?!!?" you yelp back, scrambling to your feet so you can stalk to him, finger pointing sharply at him accusingly, "I'm only a brat to you because you're mean to me!"

"mhm," he hums with an eyeroll, not taking anything you say seriously, "y'know, at least I provide to the camp, make all these things. what do you do, huh?"

"well at least I can fuck!"

ohhhhh no, you shouldn't have said that. now here you are, bent halfway over the cool metal slab of his workspace, getting rutted into from behind. "who can't fuck, huh babygirl?" he's huffing a calloused laugh from behind, pumping you full of his dick. one of his hands goes up to your ass, gripping a handful of flesh and kneading it under his fingers.

"soooo fuckin' bratty, aren't you? what, just need a good fucking from Leo to put you in your place?" all you can do is mewl and whimper in response, legs kicking and hips squirming, making him push on your lower back to keep you still as his hips smack yours.

he's laughing as he watches how your pussy sucks him up whole, balls deep, before he wrenches in and out making you cry. he's leaning his weight down on you, smushing your tits on the table as he thrusts in and out, hand yanking at your hair hard, making your scalp tingle.

"wonder how many times I can make you come before morning. would you like that baby? wanna cum on my dick til you pass out?" he coos, making you babble something unintelligible as your drool puddles on your lips and on the table, glassy eyes half-lidded.

"yeah, you'd like that, huh? all cummed out for me, hm?

he is not stopping anytime soon...!!

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

back at it on r/antiship. for the hell of it, let's go thru why these are strawman arguments at best, stupid at worst, or why what they're saying is objectively true!

TL;DR, half of the things they say are correct, but are framed as being bad things, and the other half is just misinterpreting what proshippers actually say. also they don't know what "normalization" or "romanticization" mean.

hiding under the cut so y'all don't gotta scroll for years

-first pic- that isn't the reason conservatives think lgbt ppl are pedos. they'd think that regardless of what fiction they like, because no matter what, they'd see us as predators/pedos/whatever bad thing. q art will always be inherently problematic to conservatives.

the reason WHY people equate "problematic" fanfic/art to q art is because they both deserve to be protected, they both are often called "degenerate", and that if they censor one, they'll censor both, because to the people that want to censor it, they're both one and the same. it's always "too sexual", or "what if kids see it", or "it promotes the Bad Thing", and just because they're pointing the gun at "problematic" fiction rn, doesn't mean they won't turn the gun on YOU.

-second pic- 1. fiction doesn't affect reality! at least not on a 1:1 basis! correct! 2. that is also correct! i can be interested in violent, gory movies, but i don't like OR condone violence or gore irl! correct! 3. if it walks, talks, and acts like a puritan, it's probably a puritan. stop advocating for censorship and puritanism and we won't call you that. 4. correct again! it isn't mine or anyone else's job to monitor what other people's kids do on the internet. the internet is not for children. 5. hate to say it, because i don't wanna say ANYONE protects predators, but antis do tend to create spaces where preds can sneak around undetected as long as they say The Right Thing™. 6. if you're allowing your 6 yr old to watch videos that say "fluttershy supports MAPs!", then you need to take away the ipad, not start banning shit. 7. gonna keep it real, idk what this means. stop using these words, i guarantee you they don't mean what you think they mean. 8. same as above 9. what 10. okay great, good for you that you only know ONE predator that's an anti. what about the hundreds of others that lurk in the shadows because they say the right thing, and pretend not to like problematic stuff? what about Kyle Carrozza, ya know, the anti that was arrested not too long ago? feel like we're ignoring some stuff here for the sake of pretending your side's good, and ours is bad.

-third pic- 1. well, antis are, aren't they? if you think csem should be criminalized (and it should), and you equate fanart to actual csem, then yes, you ARE trying to criminalize fantasy. 2. two things. for one, it's not always a sexual thing. hell, half the time it isn't. and two, fetishes DON'T hurt anyone (unless the whole point is to hurt someone, but there's always consent!) 3. correct! fictional characters don't have rights. are you advocating for them to? 4. you can't act like porn abolition isn't a cornerstone argument for A LOT of antis. if you agree that fictional smut is bad, chances are you think porn's bad, too. (which also overlaps with radfem beliefs too!) 5. they're not blood related because they're NOT REAL. it doesn't matter if they say they're blood related, because they're fictional. 6. are you insinuating you need to get consent from these fictional characters before you ship them? 7. why should i care? does it hurt anyone? no. does it do any damage? no. is there any downside whatsoever? no? then what does it matter. let people do what they want forever.

[schoenpepper]

Just like the last anon I kinda do think that your writing and story for Ruggie SMAU was the one I liked the most. Do you think you can turn this into a fanfic? Like a continuation of what's happening in Ruggie's life after the death of his lover if you don't mind? 👀

When the Time After You Comes

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, angst, major character death (you)

A/N: PSA I opened up a kofi haha it's on my bio. You don't need to tip, but if you like my work and have a dollar or two to spare, I do need to fix my phone :D Not opening comms tho just req if you want me to write anything kkk

Sunlight peeks through cottony white clouds and bathes Ruggie in all its too-bright glory. It’s nauseating, almost. The birds are chirping too loud and every face he encounters in a crowd looks to be smiling. It could be the truth. It could be his tired brain playing tricks on him—one can’t assume that a sleep deprived hyena hybrid would be very alert or active when the bags under his eyes are almost big enough to carry the takeout in his hands and his steps stagger to the point that the single red rose almost tethers over the plastic holding it in place. He’s not a pretty sight.

Oh, but you always are.

He’d asked his grandmother to take the time out of every Sunday to help clean your resting place, so even now—when it’s the first time he’s visited you in over a month—your headstone shines pristine as the day it was mounted. There are wilting flowers that he has to clear away, likely from your old friends in NRC, but he takes a seat on the grass beside you.

He can still see your smile.

“Sorry, I’ve been away forever, I know,” he places the rose atop the headstone, “I just…”

Ruggie sighs.

He ruffles a hand through his hair, fluffing up the brown and blond mess so that the locks stick up with his twitching ears. His tail taps rhythmically against the engraving of your name, as if the fur was gently caressing each and every letter. “I took up another job,” he moves to open the takeout box, “I need to pay off that loan. I know Leona’s not going to ask me ‘bout it anytime soon, and it’s a damn good deal that he’s not even taking any interest, but I can’t just sit by knowing even at your final moments I was still leeching off someone else.” Maybe it was a sick, twisted sort of possessiveness. He chose your coffin and the plot of land, and the flowers and the people at the funeral. Yet he couldn’t bring out a single dime because you would have despised that.

“I’d be dead and gone, but you would still need to live.”

You understood him. You knew he was just about ready to ignore his own wellbeing for you, and you convinced him his money would be better off feeding his family.

He could never win against you.

Ruggie stabs the flimsy plastic fork through the sauteed beef, almost breaking off the tines. It’s too salty. Not nearly as good as when you used to go to that restaurant with him.

“Maybe they skimped on quality control.”

His words hold no merit when he has to wipe the tears running down his chin.

“It’s soupy…”

After visiting, he needs to get to his part time job. Leona pays well, but Ruggie has so many things stacking against him that the world might as well be atop that list. He needs to pay for the money that the lion beastman had shelved out for your funeral. He needs to pay his own bills. He needs to pay to send the smarter kids to school. He needs to pay to keep his grandma on maintenance. In life and in death, the bills are haunting him.

Even the roses he gives every time he visits are expensive.

Red roses.

Not white lilies or whatever flowers the shops outside the cemetery are selling. He has such a different message to convey; he misses you, but most of all, he wants to express that the love he feels for you has not dimmed since the day you left. It still burns with a raging, passionate fire that allows him to keep going, keep moving, keep living and not just slump down in the back of some alley and wait to join you on the other side.

He cleans up the boxes and plastic cutlery.

He stands up, pats the dust off his pants, and looks at your name again.

It’s already carved into his soul.

“Please don’t be mad if I don’t come for another month,” he sighs, “you know I think about you every day. Just, when the finances get a bit better, alright? I’ll buy you a dozen roses in the fancy bouquets.”

For now, he’ll just have to leave you again.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @fsh1 @lemon-koii

[theoneandonlysourcandy]

HENRY HOTLINE X READER (but. . AT THE BEACH!!)

Aw yeah baby let’s fucking go we’re going to the beach even though it’s November!! I was just thinking hm he would totally love the beach, then I see someone reblog my other post talking about him complimenting us at the beach and knew it was destiny,,anyways enjoy shirtless Henry hotline you freaks

☀️- He takes FOREVER to find a good spot, he needs it to be PERFECT, not to close to the water, where the sand is just right and not burning his feet off, away from other people-you get it. Though, it’s for you as well, he’s *going* to make sure you have an awesome time.

☀️- He wouldnt go in the water much despite how much he loves the beach, he’d usually just be sunbathing the whole time, occasionally stealing stuff from other people.

☀️- Though, you don’t like they. This is the BEACH!! He should be in the water!! Jumping over waves and accidentally getting water in his eyes and it ends up stinging for 5 minutes!! Not just sitting on the sand!!

☀️- Soon enough, he’s dragged by you and thrown into the water before he even knows it. He might as well let you do want you want and play in the water for a bit.

☀️- yeah he throws sand at you

☀️- He’d be hyping himself up for volleyball, saying how he’s super awesome and good at it, but once you actually get him to play, he can’t even hit the ball.

☀️- If he gets bored and your doing whatever, he’ll find some pretty seashells so that he can give them to you once your back. He makes sure to find the perfect ones.

☀️- Kicks down some kids sandcastle when your not looking

☀️- He then proceeds to make you a sandcastle

☀️- true neutral

Ik this wasn’t super romantic but like. . Henry and you at the beach what more could you ask for

[leighsartworks216]

Mutually Assured Destruction

Sylus x gn!Reader

I don't remember anymore how this idea came to me but I needed to write it. Makes references to other stories in the Raven series

Warnings: spicy but no smut, collars, leashes, muzzles, marking, ownership, master/pet, light bondage, halloween, slight swearing, established relationship

Word Count: 2,667

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You glare at the twins with a hardened fury that could scare any client of Sylus’s into pissing their pants and apologizing to you for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, this is Luke and Kieran. They don’t crumble under the stare. They laugh.

It’s stupid, you decide. Before, well, you were open to the idea. Miss Hunter needs “Skye” to make an appearance at a Halloween party thrown by her colleagues and friends, so it’s only natural he’d want to bring his partner along to join in on the fun. She didn’t argue against it, but she did warn about keeping you - hm, how did she put it again? Ah, yes, on a tight leash.

Why’d she have to say it in front of these chuckleheads?

The black collar is lined with spiked studs, connected to a long leather leash. Sure, fine, whatever. You even like the idea of wearing it, so long as the leash is in Sylus’s hand.

But a muzzle?

“Awe, c’mon! We don’t get to go, so you might as well let us have some fun with it!”

“We can run out and grab you a box of milk bones, if you’d like.”

Sylus wraps an arm around your shoulders and steers you away from the twins before you can successfully wrap the leash around their necks. “You’re dismissed,” he orders with a wave of his hand. He takes the muzzle from you, idly studying it.

You glare over your shoulder at Luke and Kieran, who snicker as they finally do as they’re told. The sound grates on your nerves until the door closes and shuts them out.

You shift out of his hold easily. He perches against his nice, expensive desk as he watches you pace back and forth, fiddling with the leather collar and leash in your hands. He sets the muzzle aside and crosses his arms.

“What are you thinking about?”

A lot of things, quite frankly. Your position as the fearsome guard dog of the great Onychinus leader, Miss Hunter and her little friends, the party, your costume, your increasingly complex feelings on being “owned” by someone…

You know Sylus doesn’t own you. You know, if ever you wished it, you could walk right out of here and go on into forever, and he would let you. It would hurt. But he wouldn’t hold you back.

Is it so wrong if you want him to…?

Your body has never been yours. As a kid, it belonged to the streets and the failed help programs of the city. As a teen, it belonged to your damned tormentor, the Devil. Even when you escaped as a young adult, you didn’t know enough about who you were anymore to hold any claim over yourself. You fought, you struggled, you became cleverer, and scarier. You became the Raven. And for the short time you’ve carried that name, you have learned to own yourself again. Even the ring on your pinky, that eternal promise mirrored on Sylus’s own hand, could not steal that from you.

Maybe it’s not quite ownership you want to give up, then.

You want to keep owning yourself, but you want him to, as well. You want to be that hopelessly loyal guard dog to him. You want to be obedient to his commands, and defiant in order to protect him. You want to tear out the throats of everyone who looks at him the wrong way. You want him to watch….

You want to be wanted.

And you are, aren’t you? He has never made it seem like he wants anything else but for you to be by his side. Not only that, how many times has he made it clear that he belongs to you? How many more times must he before it sinks in? Before you can grasp the fact that he wants to be your hopelessly loyal guard dog? That he wants to be obedient to your every command and defiant in order to protect you? He wants to tear out the throats of everyone who looks at you the wrong way, and he wants you to watch him do it.

He impedes your path, stopping you in your tracks and tilting your head up by your chin. He’s frowning. There’s a furrow between his brows. “What’s wrong?” he asks, more insistent than before.

Wrong? Is anything wrong here? The twins’ meddling in messing with you, maybe - but they weren’t exactly wrong. You are his dog on a leash, a dangerous animal that will bite if given the chance.

But… so is he.

You’re two wild, vicious animals. You’ve lashed out to save yourselves. Done horrific things in order to keep the weaker dogs from challenging you, and even worse things to those who dared to try. But you hold his leash, and he holds yours. You could so easily choke him with it. He could choke you with it. And yet, you are at peace - content in your mutually assured destruction.

“Sweetheart?”

You breathe in deeply. You hold the collar out to him, the leash loosely coiled and dangling from your fingers. He glances down at it, but his attention is focused solely on you.

“I want to wear it,” you say quietly. “But only if you’re the one putting it on.”

Something flickers in his eyes. The furrow in his brow is gone, replaced with silent understanding. He releases your chin. Long fingers wrap around the collar and leash, pressed between your palms as he holds your hand. “What about the muzzle?”

You grin slightly, playfully. It’s that same satisfied smirk you had back when he first met you. “I may need it around all those people, don’t you think?”

He chuckles. “If you behave, I’ll give you a treat after. How does that sound?”

He takes the collar. You can’t deny the thrill that runs through you as you watch him deftly undo the silver buckle. You stare up at him as he wraps the leather around your throat. He stares right back with a hungry look in his eyes as he slowly tightens it.

The leather is surprisingly soft. Not for a dog, that’s for sure. You’re almost grateful the twins regard you with enough respect to buy a collar made for humans. Almost. Not enough to let this whole incident slide unpunished. You think a little target practice to try shooting off the rings on their horns is a good warmup.

He tightens it a little more than necessary. You can’t help the way your eyes flutter shut, or the soft sigh that escapes through your nose. You’re rewarded with the familiar press of lips to your own. “Good dog,” he hums teasingly. You hate how much you love it.

He loosens it back up, enough to sit comfortably without rubbing your neck raw. His face is still tauntingly close to yours. Every breath fans over you, daring you to close the gap.

But you don’t.

He draws back once the buckle is secured. The leash hangs down, long enough to reach your mid-calf. “I wonder if you know any tricks,” he muses with a smirk and that cocky head tilt he does. He nods over to his desk. “Sit.”

You narrow your eyes up at him, but you smile. It reminds you of the commands he usually uses to control you during negotiations, and just how you both came to the agreement of using them. And like the good little pet you are, you saunter over to the desk and pull yourself up to sit on it. Back straight, legs crossed at the ankle, hands in your lap. He loves it.

He follows, standing in front of you and picking up the muzzle from his desk. It’s a basket muzzle, shaped to fit a human’s face instead of a dog’s snout. Silver bars weave together in an imprisoning array. Two straps hang in loose circles, held together by silver buckles. Sylus deftly undoes them, while his eyes appreciate the line of the leash that trails down your body and disappears between your thighs.

Holding the basket with one hand, and a strap in the other, he reaches forward to place the muzzle on your face. You turn, dodging the contraption, to catch the meat of his thumb between your teeth. He chuckles. “Behave. Be a good dog, won’t you?”

You bite down slightly harder, enough to leave a mark without breaking skin, but don’t let go. He smirks, leaning down until he’s at eye-level with you. “Here I thought this pup was properly trained. Do I have to tame them myself?”

It’s intoxicating, the playful yet almost threatening lilt in his voice. If you didn’t have a party to go to for Miss Hunter’s sake, you would love to test the limits of your handler even further.

As it is, you do have a party to go to, and time is ticking away.

Your teeth release his flesh. Left behind is a pretty red mark with indents from your canines and incisors. You stare into his eyes as you slowly lick the mark. His eyes follow the swipe of your tongue, darkened with desire.

With no more protests, he affixes the straps around your head - one that goes over your ears and one that goes under. The metal cage over your nose and mouth is cushioned by a strip of soft leather. It’s restrictive, but it’s not uncomfortable. If you wanted to, you could speak… or bark, if you felt like it.

Sylus places a kiss over the metal wires with a devilish grin. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

His hand traces your jaw, fingertips dancing over the straps, to your neck. He idly brushes over the studs along the collar, trailing down the line to reach the D-ring at the front. It’s large enough that he could hook his finger in it, but why do that when there’s a perfectly good leash right there?

The metal clasp of the leash jingles lighty against the ring. You can hear the leather sliding between his fingers as he pulls it from between your thighs. It creaks as he wraps it around his hand. He tugs on it experimentally. You’re jolted forward. The collar is tighter against the back of your neck, straining toward the pull.

“I enjoy it, too,” he hums lowly, for your ears only. He keeps the tension on the line as he leans in to press soft kisses at the edge of the muzzle. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, falsified wariness shining back at him. They flutter shut as he smiles against your skin, trailing his lips lower and lower, over the straps of the muzzle and to the top of the collar.

“I wonder…” His breath is loud in your ears, mixing with your heartbeat, as he leaves an open-mouthed kiss at the line where skin meets leather. “When we get back…” His teeth ghost over your pulse. “How I would look in your place?”

Your eyes snap open and lock onto him. He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze with a wide smile. “Would you like that, my beloved?” He kisses your cheek. “Me, collared and chained, obedient to your every command?”

He hums thoughtfully. “I wonder how obedient you really are. Does this dog bark?”

He pulls tighter on the leash, causing you to strain your neck against it. “Growl?”

He suddenly slackens the lead. You’re unsteady as you press your hands into the desk for support. Before you can growl at him, his fingers are pulling down the collar to get to your sweet spot. His teeth nibble at it, pulling an unexpected sound from your mouth. “Oh? So they can whine. Do you howl, too?”

He kisses your skin more intently, sucking on it and leaving little bites, soothed by his tongue. One right below your jaw makes you whimper. “Good dog,” he whispers. His free hand pets your hair, the one holding the leash coming to rest beside your thigh as he leans over you. “Maybe I should cover your whole neck like this.” He bites harder at the spot. “Make sure everyone knows you’re mine. Would you like that, hm? Being mine?”

You nod. You're on cloud nine, mind fuzzy from elation. He tugs at the leash again, this time pulling it behind you so it presses up against your trachea. You gasp in response, fighting to keep sitting upright even as your head is strained back.

“Speak.”

“Yes.”

He slackens the lead again, breath growing heavy and with a growl at the back his throat as he goes to work devouring you. “Good dog.”

-

Miss Hunter greets you a few paces from the door with wide eyes. She stares at the (very fresh) marks littering your neck, some hidden by the collar and some with oddly suspicious teeth marks. She gives Sylus a dubious look. “Just who needs to be muzzled here?”

He smirks lazily. “The difference is who gets bit, kitten. I would hate to rush your coworkers to the hospital tonight.”

She glares at him, before glancing at your neck one more time. “Somebody’s gonna think this is some weird BDSM thing…” Nonetheless, she moves on. “What are you two supposed to be, exactly?”

“Can’t you tell? After all the effort we went through…” He sighs, feigning disappointment. “I’m a vampire. You seemed so insistent on it, because of my red eyes, remember?”

His costume is very toned down - some custom-fit vampire fangs and some nice clothes. Kieran suggested the fake blood, which runs from his lip down his chin.

“And what are they?”

You think Luke snuck into Linkon City for supplies purely to mess with you further, because while Kieran was handing Sylus a bottle of fake blood, Luke was handing you fuzzy animal ears and a fake tail. If it weren’t for the muzzle, you probably would have bitten him when he pat your head.

“My pet werewolf, of course.” He gestures to the leash. “This is just to ensure they don’t go on any rampages while they’re here.”

She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at him. “Uh huh, is that the only reason?”

He tilts his head back at her. “Sorry, sweetie, I’m afraid our relationship is rather exclusive. We’re not looking for a third member right now.”

Her cheeks heat up as she sputters out, “Th-That’s not what I meant!” She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Anyway, everyone’s inside. Just, don’t scare them off,” she gives you a pointed look, “and keep your fangs to yourself.” She turns it on Sylus.

“Don’t worry, kitten. I’m as docile as they come.”

She shakes her head again and runs off, slipping inside the house where the party is taking place.

A warm hand scratches you playfully behind one of the fake animal ears. “Ready?”

You turn to him and crook a finger to beckon him down to your height. Even without a collar to control him, he does as you ask, until his sharp eyes are level with yours. He shouldn’t have been so caught off guard by the sudden feeling of the leash at the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. He huffs a laugh once he realizes what you’ve done.

From the outside, it looks awkward and uncomfortable. Your leash pulls at your own collar as you hold it around his neck, pinched together at the front with one of your hands so he can’t pull away. From there, it trails down to his own hand, where it’s still wrapped around in his hold.

From the inside, Sylus’s eyes glance down at your mouth, and how he wishes the muzzle weren’t there so he could kiss you. You lean forward until the cold metal wires of the muzzle brush against his ear. “I’m looking forward to my treat.”

He turns his head to meet your eye, a wicked little gleam shining back at you. “So am I.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton

[fandomworld9728]

Radioapple Angst Request! - Part 2:

“Why is it that I always seem to find you on the roof?”

“That’s a secret.” Turning to Alastor with an amused smile, he patted the spot next to him. “Gonna come sit with me this time or call me an idiot and tell me to get to bed again?”

“I suppose I can humor you tonight. But only tonight.”

That one night had turned into many more. They were by far some of the best nights of Alastor’s afterlife.

Evenings after dinner on the roof, sleepless nights spent together in Lucifer’s ridiculously large bed talking about whatever popped into their heads, late nights drinking in Alastor's radio tower…

He was not going to lose those moments just because the little king was being a coward. Now if only Alastor could figure out why. Why did he run away like that?

Perhaps their dear Charlie knows. He’ll have to go and ask her before he goes over to the palace. It was always best to be prepared.

~

“No, no, no. Why is it flaring up now? Roo… why won't you just leave me in peace?” He could feel it creeping up his neck. The darkness. It was wrapping around his throat and covering his eyes-

“Lucifer!”

“Alastor maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Nonsense. Isolation isn’t good for the mind. Especially one that is spiraling. Much like your father’s.”

Charlie? Alastor? What in the unholy hell were they doing here?! It wasn't safe! He had to leave. Had to get away and keep them safe-

"There you are sire!"

Shit! "S-Stay back! Don't come near me, either of you!"

"Dad? What's going on- what is that blood goop?!"

Time was running out. He couldn't stop it from happening this time. "Alastor. I swear I will tell you everything if you get Charlie out of here. It isn't safe."

"...Very well."

"What? No! Let me stay and help!"

This was it. As soon as Charlie was out of those doors Lucifer would tell him everything. After that, he would leave, and this darkness would most likely swallow him whole forever. Lilith wasn't here to use her song to keep it at bay anymore.

"Alright. I was promised an explanation." Taking a look quickly around the room, Alastor only now noticed what a mess it was.

Not just from dust or clutter like he had expected to find. Furniture was upturned and looked like it had been thrown, and some looked to be smashed into pieces. The walls and floors had claw marks across them. Then, there was Lucifer himself.

"First, you can tell me about those shadows that seem to be trying to devour you."

Lucifer was silent for a moment, compilating the request. He didn't have time for this. But what choice did he have? He said he would explain everything. So, with what time he had left, he would hold up his end of the agreement.

"It's... the darkness. It's Roo. After what I did... letting evil into the world, I went and spoke with Roo. She made a deal with me. The very first demonic deal... she wanted to always be with me and in exchange she would keep the balance between the light and dark in the world. In people's hearts and souls."

What? Did Alastor hear that correctly? Lucifer, who has always hated his demonic form and everything that came with it, especially in the very beginning, made the very first demonic deal in creation to once again save humans? To right what he and Heaven deemed a mistake?

"But... fuck! I can't even do that right!" Pushing his hair out of his face, Lucifer let a bitter, self-loathing laugh slip out. Along with the tears he had so desperately been trying to hide.

"What do you mean?"

"When I'm stressed, or my emotions become too much to handle, I slip. My control wavers! She takes over my body and senses! Roo is able to upset the balance! Lilith... her song helped. Her singing can hypnotize people. It only worked on me for a couple of seconds, but that was enough time for me to regain control."

It felt... good... to talk to someone about this. He could feel the darkness recede. Just a little, but that just meant he had more time. More time with Alastor.

"It's one of the reasons I would isolate myself. Especially... Especially after I had hurt Charlie- Oh god! Lilith was right to take her when she left! I almost killed my little girl!"

"Lucifer! You're spiraling again!" Reaching out to try and get him to stop pulling at his hair, Alastor was surprised and a little hurt when he recoiled. He had never rejected his touch before.

"You can't touch me! She'll infect you or I-I'll hurt you! Please..."

Taking a few deep breaths to try and steady himself, Lucifer continued. As much as he was worried that he would hurt him, it helped to have him here.

"I didn't want to reject your confession. I was just- I'm scared. I can't take another heartbreak. I gave up everything for someone who left. Who got tired of all my baggage. Honestly, I can't blame her. I knew it might happen one day. I just hoped that she wouldn't have kept me from my own daughter, who I carried and gave birth to since she couldn't. And to just pretend I don't exist!"

~

"Alastor what is going on?!"

It had all happened so fast. Lucifer had transformed right in front of his eyes into a giant Eldrige being, destroying the palace in the process. It was glorious. However, the circumstances were not. Alastor had to fix this. So, he returned to the hotel quickly with a plan.

"Your father is trapped in Roo's darkness. Do not worry, I know what to do."

"And what would that be?"

"That, my dears, is to reassure that foolish king that I have no intentions of leaving. He is forever stuck with me whether he likes it or not."

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged worried glances before looking back at Alastor. "How can we help?"

~

Lucifer hated this part the most. Floating in a void of darkness. At least he was starting to lose himself enough that the screams of his people were beginning to muffle. If only he had some light...

"Salutations! Dear Sinners, worry no longer. For I am here to tame the beast that is our very own King of Hell."

Huh? Alastor? How could he hear his voice so clearly? Wait. Was that... light? A light was just ahead! If only he could reach it! But... he was tired...

"Once he comes to his senses, Hell can enjoy a royal wedding. Between whom you may ask. Why, dear listeners, Lucifer Morningstar and myself."

A wedding? For him and Alastor? He wanted to... no. He could just be saying that. There was no way. Right?

"Including a soul deal forever binding us together. You will not get rid of me Lucifer. Even if I have to hunt you down and drag you back kicking and screaming."

He couldn't believe it. He had to get free, go to him and apologize. The light was shining brighter as he swam to it. Fighting against the shadows and self-doubt for the first time in a long time that tried to pull him back, Lucifer finally reached it! Reaching out the last little bit of distance to grab it and let it envelop him.

In an instance, the darkness exploded off his body and rushed back inside of him, leaving him to fall from the sky. He was too weak to use his wings to catch himself. He barely registered it, but he could feel warm and sturdy arms catch him. Looking up, Lucifer saw that he was back in the care of Alastor. He was really going to have to make it up to him.

Part 1

[monotone-artist]

idk been doing some concepts for a spiderman oc, aka spider-woman aka bronze spider aka spider-claw aka veronica "nickel" jackson. this is the most effort ive put into designing any oc ever tbh

uhhh additional stuff under the read-more

[id: some images of colorless digital sketches. the first one is a few concepts for her outfit design, based off victorian-era clothing, mainly in the shape of a tunic, baggy trousers, and boots. her eye-lenses are goggles, which can widen and squint spider-verse style. there are also several concepts of her spider symbol, most of which are in a mechanical style. a list of text tucked between the designs reads, "stockings, beanie hat? coats, belts, chains? handkerchief, tophat." there's also "Bronze Spider" written in the corner of the image.

the second image is some earlier concepts. the main one is just a plain fullbody without any detail. there are some shots of just her torso to figure out the spider symbol placement and design. there are also a few spider symbol designs, though they're not mechanical.

the last image is of nickel in one of the victorian-style designs, seeming to be in midair, her legs hooked back and her arms bent outward, as though she's in the middle of a big jump. end id]

she's gonna have two versions, this is the one before The Incident, and she's gonna have one for After.

she lives in this like, modern fantastical steampunk society (there's technology like phones n computers; there's dragons and unicorns n other creatures; and steampunk. her nyc is called the Tiered City because it is. in tiers. for general inspiration, i imagine it as classic steampunk stuff (cause i dont wanna do worldbuilding, except that they have modern technology too, just steampunk-ified) mixed with some arcane with a hint of lady trent's memoirs (in terms of the fantasy wildlife). but im still figuring things out though

nickel's whole thing is that she is actually one of two spiderpeople in her universe. they're known together as the spider-twins, even though the other spidey is actually her cousin (whose name is victoria jackson) but it's not that important. nickel also has a gf, her name is elsa but im still not sure of a surname

anyway The Incident happens and victoria dies and that rlly screws up nickel, and at some point (before, during, or after idk), nickel gets some drake dna and now whenever she's stressed or angry or anything, she turns into a drake. (it's a process that depends on how awful she feels though so she can just have like, dragon horns only for example). and because she's rather self-destructive at this point she starts calling herself spider-claw.

there's a whole metaphor thing going on w her and dragons are awesome so im using that. also this is all subject to change because im still figuring her out x_x but im having fun with it so it's fine

[surreal-duck]

some business to take care of

[the-one-that-weeps]

Every time someone in this godforsaken fandom says "I think we've talked about misogyny enough" I want to hit them with a hammer. No we haven't.

We haven't even talked about the deep "Ruikasa&Akitoya Vs. literally everyone else" imbalance enough but imagine all of the people that get pressured into writing specifically for male/male ships simply because otherwise they won't get any appreciation.

Yes it's a cowardly thing but when you see Ruikasa having over 4000 fics and Ichisaki having like 5 in total obviously you're going to be discouraged. Obviously you'll be biased into creating Ruikasa instead of other ships.

And as someone who depends on appreciation in particular to do any work at all obviously that's going to have a lasting consequence. Some people spend 4 hours crying in front of a screen just for 3 people to like their work and leave, it's understandable if they lose passion for creating at all, you guys killed them.

It's even in how we handle m/m ships. You go into a fic that's tagged Rui&Tsukasa(platonic), someone in the comments always goes "okay but when do they kiss". You go to an action-packed longfic, someone always ends up going "okay but when do they kiss".

Fuck you guys. Actually. This is a silly piano tiles game about Hatsune Miku, we should be one of the MOST CREATIVE fandoms in history and somehow people still get mad over two boys not kissing immediately after getting introduced. It's so fucking difficult being a content creator in this fandom because you always end up having to take the same route. They meet they tease they kiss. End of story. "Oh you're doing something "lame" instead? -1 kudo. Bring me my yaoi next🖕"

[rustedhills]

Disney, releasing Wish: "so it's all about legacy--the new generation surpassing the old, overcoming the evils perpetuated by them, relinquishing singular power... and there's an old man in a tower, uh... animal sidekick, i guess..., ah... magic...?

Miyazaki, just out of frame, sledgehammer raised:

[b-blushes]

seven silly shirts to make me smile every day of the week!!!

[shumistar]

SWAGGON CO. SCAR × CLOWN CAN U HEAR ME CAN U SEE THE VISION????? (now u can cus i drew it duh) their aesthetics literally MATCH!!!!!!

GO VOTE NOW:

Crackship poll

I want them to OBLITERATE this poll.