#and that's when i realized that he looks so fucking cool when he casts his burst

[rubys-domain]

I'm upset

#⇢₊˚⊹ 🩷∥ruby∥yo，ide yo !! #don't know if it's the period talking or not #but today I'm plagued by an unyielding sense of Not Satisfied #and it's making me wanna do an impulsive thing like throw what little money i have left into some ice cream or smth #I should probably just eat. I've been scrolling for way too long #oh another genshin thing that i forgot to mention #i didn't even use all that much healing food in the shogun fight. i stockpiled 100 pieces of sushi and 60 berry mizu manjuu for it #but ended up only using like idk 5 of each? #i'm getting better at dodging her attacks. and i did have bennett #and another genshin thing #thanks to chong being on rate-up i got to do his test run #royal greatsword does look really good on him ngl #it doesnt feel much like a real weapon tho. like na-ing with it makes me feel like it's gonna shatter into little blue pieces at any moment #i'm a little disappointed that trial chong was c0 tho. like they could at least have him c1 for the slashing ice #but the cool thing about test run domains is burst spamming #and that's when i realized that he looks so fucking cool when he casts his burst #despite using him since i started the game，my attention is always on whatever i'm fighting. not so much on chong #and his back is always to me in fights so i can't really see the poses he makes very well #i already loved chong all the way to the milky way #but this made me love him by a couple dozen more milky ways #gonna go do his test run just to see him ult. then eat food and get the fuck outta bed #one last bout of bitching first tho. last time i lost my 50/50 i got keqing. and i just have to ask. why couldn't it be tighnari instead #idc how strong she is i can't be bothered to build her or use her #meanwhile i will gladly farm nagadus emerald gems all over again for nari #and that's saying a lot because farming them for baizhu took SO much out of me #i now have a surplus of terrorshroom drops that i have no one to use on because i already have way more than enough to max asc collei #maybe i should farm other gems instead from the easiest boss to beat and transfigure them into nagadus emerald #i accidentally bought way too much dust of azoth once anyway #currently i think the easiest boss to beat for me is the pyro regisvine. but ig that also goes for a lot of ppl too

[soapskneebrace]

a wake-up call

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: References to masturbation. References to sexual fantasy. More than likely far too many references to eye contact. Author’s Notes: I'm slowly recovering. This story will continue. Please enjoy. MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

Three knocks on your front door wake you up.

The sound feels at first like the thump of your own throbbing brain against the inside of your skull. Awareness comes back to you slowly, in gradiated shades of stiff joints and greasy skin. You shift, and find you’re still on your couch, still in your clothes from last night. Your eyes are filmy, sticky with dehydration—you blink several times to clear them, to little effect.

The knocking, a three-beat staccato, comes again.

“One second,” you croak irritably, cupping your forehead with your hand. Your skull might come apart, you think, if you move too much.

Your entire body feels like it is suspended from loose, tangled marionette strings as you struggle to sit up on the couch, and you wobble to that effect as you stand. Somehow, your flat has tilted at thirty degree angle, likely sometime in your sleep. You make it to the door at an oblique, having to lean on the jamb as you open it, and to add insult to injury John is standing on your doorstep like a clean, shining beacon of sobriety.

He’s in a dark shirt and jeans. His hair is casually neat, as if he’d styled it with his fingers. He looks fresh-faced, as if he’s been awake for hours already.

“That’s not fair,” you groan. 

His brows draw together over cool blue eyes. “Jesus, love,” he says, looking you up and down.

You think you should say something back. But your head is too full of ache and interrupted sleep—and the bright shock of his presence—to produce anything intelligent.

“John,” is all you say, and you sound absolutely pathetic.

“Was gonna accuse you of standing me up,” he says ruefully, “but I see that’s not the case.”

“No,” you say dumbly. The fact that he’s come to seek you out gets tangled up in the strings. “Um.”

It is so far out of the ordinary as to be dreamlike. John’s knocking belongs on the other side of your wall, not your door. His boots belong on his own doorstep, making room for your house slippers at the time of your choosing, not his.

“Am I still drunk?” you wonder aloud.

John gives that little huff-laugh of his. “I doubt it.”

You rub your face. “Have I overslept?”

“Just a bit,” he replies. “I’ll admit, when I didn’t hear you move around this morning, I got worried.”

“I fell asleep on the couch,” you confess. You put a hand to your forehead as your brain throbs again. “Oh, I shouldn’t have drank that much.”

“Love,” says John, gentle and soft, “why don’t you let me in, and I’ll make you some breakfast?”

You blink, and you’re sure now that you’re still drunk. 

John. In your flat. Cooking?

“I’m not fancy in the kitchen, but I manage alright,” he suggests further. His gaze is warm on yours, brows lifted encouragingly.

“…Sure,” you say, and shuffle to the side to let him in. If this morning is determined to be strange, you might as well not get in its way.

He gives you a small smile and crosses the threshold. 

Your flat shifts again; as he enters your living room, it seems to shrink, or maybe it’s just that John fills your home in a way no one ever has. His body, his presence, casts new light on the interior that throws its existence into unfamiliar repose. Details—the softness of your furniture, the cozy clutter of books and knickknacks spread across every available flat surface—offer unmeasured insight into who you are, more than you might ever have intended to reveal to John.

It’s only when he’s halfway to your kitchen that you realize one detail—the bright fucking pink of your vibrator, still on your coffee table—is glowing like a neon sign.

And your previous night’s activities come flooding back. 

Your body, draped over his. The scrape of his beard on your hand, your face. 

The furious grind of your mons against that toy as you pictured him taking you, drenched in hot shower water and pressed bare to the tile wall.

You are fully, painfully awake now. You stare, frozen in shocked terror, waiting for him to catch sight of it, but his head does not turn in its direction. He passes by it with no indication that he even noticed.

You dart over and snatch it behind his back, shoving it deep into your dress pocket, and grab up the empty water glass for an excuse. Then you have to put a hand to your head as your vision swims from the sudden movement.

“Have eggs?” John asks over his shoulder. He enters your kitchen. “I can make ‘em any way you like. Fried, over easy, sunny side…”

“Um,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut, “scrambled.”

You follow after him, and lean against the wall to watch as he opens your fridge. His hand engulfs more of its handle than yours ever has; the musculature of his powerful body visibly shifts beneath his clothes as he has to bend down to root around the shelves.

He is broad in your kitchen. As broad as he’d been between your legs, in memory and in fantasy.

You don’t realize you’re staring until he straightens and puts the eggs, butter, and milk on the counter. Your breath hangs suspended in the shallows of your lungs when he catches your gaze.

His brows crease again. “You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

“Um,” you say, again, because it’s the only sound your brain will reliably supply.

To your horror, he comes to you, and—oh, god—takes your face in both hands.

“You’re warm,” he says. “Do you feel sick, love?”

Your brain supplies nothing now. It is so unfair, how good he looks the morning after drinking nearly half a bottle of scotch. His features are velvet-soft, so easy and wonderful to look at that you stop feeling your headache entirely.

“I really think I might still be drunk,” you admit, sounding pathetic.

His thumbs rub into your temples as he smiles at you. “Hell of a hangover, then.”

The pressure of his fingers is an incredible relief, and you close your eyes as you give into it. You feel, if your knees suddenly gave out, that he would easily be able to hold you up like this, as if you weighed nothing. His hands are a little cool from rooting around in your fridge, and the rest of him is warm, standing close enough that his body heat reaches out to you with the freshness of a recent shower. You want to fall into that warmth, bury your face in his chest…

Your eyes fly open. You hear your own voice again—I wanted to touch you, and I wanted you to hold me. You feel, again, the echo of his body between your thighs. Your heart starts beating wildly in your chest as embarrassment, hot and acidic, pumps through you.

“I think I need to sit down,” you whisper.

He strokes your temples, and surveys your face with a gentle gaze. “Sure, love. Go ahead.”

And then he releases you, and you try to remember how to walk as you return to your living room. There is no relief to be found as you sit down on your couch, which is indented by the dissatisfied night.

“How’d you sleep?” John asks from the counter. You hear him crack a few eggs into a bowl. This is the first time cooking has happened in your kitchen with you outside of it, and the cognitive dissonance of it does not help to steady you.

“Like the dead,” you say, rubbing your sore neck. Then, you decide to lie to him. “I—I think I passed out before the door even closed last night.”

John looks over his shoulder at you, and he smiles. The vibrator sits cold in your pocket. Are you imagining that glimmer in his eyes? “Wouldn’t be surprised. You were pretty out of it.”

“I didn’t end up drinking the whole bottle, did I?”

A chuckle. “Not quite.”

“Didn’t you drink as much as me?” You try to recall, and think you can remember him matching you glass for glass. “Why aren’t you out of commission?”

“The army never cares if you’re hungover, I’ve found,” says John. “Guess I learned to stop caring too.”

You hear the sizzle of whisked eggs spreading over a hot pan, and for a while there’s only the sound of John moving a spatula around.

You watch him in your kitchen, his back to you as he stands at the stove. His long-sleeved shirt clings to the breadth of his shoulders, planes of shifting muscle underneath casting shadows through the soft cotton. The collar hangs a little low down his neck, leaving enough room for the dark hair at his nape to curl as it dries.

It makes something in your stomach twist, twinning your nervous hunger with unstable desire. It’s something that wants to walk back into the kitchen and wrap your arms around his trim waist, press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Want anything else?” John asks. “Could make some toast.”

“Eggs are fine!” you say too quickly.

The spatula scrapes softly against the pan again. As he turns to open your fridge, you swear you see him grinning. 

Heat blooms across your face. SAS. Of course he could feel you looking at him.

It does not take him very long to finish cooking. Space bends once again as he leaves your kitchen, as he comes to you with a plate balanced on one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. You feel smaller than you ever have as he approaches, and sets the meal in front of you on the coffee table. 

“Hope it tastes alright,” he says, sitting down beside you. He sinks into your couch cushions, far more dense than you are, and looks quite comfortable doing so. “I made ‘em how I like ‘em, but no guarantee you’ll feel the same.”

You look from him to the eggs, which are golden yellow and steaming pleasantly. “You didn’t make yourself anything?”

There is a softness in his eyes when you look back to him. You’ve seen it before—it’s there every time you hand him a new book. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. Just eat.”

You can’t protest when he’s looking at you like that, so you obey, suddenly ravenous once a forkful is between your teeth. The eggs are whipped to a wonderfully soft fluff, salted perfectly, and you think you can taste the barest hint of butter. You can’t help shutting your eyes to savor the taste.

“Good?” John asks. “I’ll admit, I’m not much of a cook, but I think I’m all right at eggs.”

Usually you like to add things when you make the same dish—potato chips, broken up into little crumbs, or a dollop of sour cream and salsa. For once though, right now you’d be disappointed by all that. 

They wouldn’t be the eggs John made for you.

The thought makes your stomach twist again. “Delicious,” you say. “Thank you.”

He watches you eat, and you try not to feel self-conscious. He seems almost—satisfied by this, by feeding you, more than you would expect him to be. But then, this has always been the case with John. You have never understood why the smallest of things you do have such an impact on him, but they do nonetheless.

“John,” you say. “About last night…I wanted to apologize.”

Dark brows crease as you set the empty plate down. “What for?”

“I got so drunk,” you say. You won’t look at him, face heating, strangling your own fingers in your lap. “You—you had to carry me home, and I’m so embarrassed by the things I said, I was so inconsiderate.”

“That’s not—”

“You must have felt so uncomfortable,” you continue, “you were so nice to take me out, and there I was acting like a lush with no self-control—”

“Darling, it’s fine—”

“And then after, the way I—I pawed at you—”

He says your name—fully and clearly, firmly—and it catches you so off guard that your words halt in your throat. You finally meet his gaze.

John’s eyes have always been windows. Portals into the truth of him, freely offered, without hesitance or fear. You think John knows himself in ways few men do—knows every corner, every crack and crevice, and refuses to hide any of it from himself or anyone else. As if he is not afraid of being seen for what and who he is; as if he has seen it all already, and cannot be daunted by it.

What you see now is undisguised. Untempered. John Price wants you. And he has no fear that you can see it.

“Did you mean any of it?” he asks, voice low and deep in his chest.

The question catches you off guard, throwing you with its directness. The only thing keeping you upright is his gaze, the steady certainty of its own intention. Strong even under the weight of suspense. 

You swallow, and take a shaky breath. “John,” you say, “I was so drunk...”

His eyes flash. John moves, leans forward, and you are speared, held in place much the same way you had been at dinner, by his presence alone. “I know. But did you mean it?”

The breath trapped in your lungs calcifies, solidifies into hard, pressing nodules of catalyzed fear and desire that trap the seeds of any response in your chest. You tear your gaze away from him, finally, stare at the empty plate on your table. He does not touch you, but you feel the phantom weight of his hand on your knee. The warmth of his body against yours.

“We hardly know each other,” you whisper shakily. It is a flimsy scrap of an excuse, even to you. “We—we barely know each other at all.”

“Love,” John says, low and soft. You turn to look at him again. His lips part—

Your phone rings.

You exhale hard, strings suddenly cut. John closes his eyes, breathes out, and then leans back again.

You retrieve your phone from where you’d flung your purse last night, off the couch and to the opposite wall where it lays on the floor. When you see the caller ID, you want to throw the phone back across the room, but you take a deep breath and answer anyway.

“Ben,” you sigh, and to your furious embarrassment it comes out as a croak.

“Hey, sweets, Liv is—wait. You sound awful,” comes your coworker—and ex-boyfriend’s—voice through the earpiece.

“Rough night,” you say, closing your eyes against sweets. You then look at John. His gaze is fixed on you.

“Oh, sorry,” Ben says. “Anything I can do?”

He could have not called. “Tell me about Liv,” you prompt him.

“Right! She’s out. Flu.”

“Oh.” You blink, and watch John retrieve your plate and glass. He takes them to the kitchen and runs the faucet low, so the sound won’t interfere with your call. 

You’re not sure how you know that that’s his intention, but you do. 

“That’s awful.”

“And inconvenient. We need another instructor for the trip.”

Can John hear what Ben is saying? He looks up from the sink, lifts one brow when you meet his eyes. There’s humor there, a kind of rueful empathy for dealing with the nonsense of coworkers.

You want to hang up. You want to answer his question right then and there. 

“When?” you ask.

“Two hours. I know! I know it’s short notice,” he says, animatedly contrite. “Sorry. But we’d love to have you, it’ll be fun! I can even pick you up, if you like.”

“No, that’s alright,” you sigh. “But okay, I’ll start packing. Just send me the details, yeah?”

“Sure, sweets,” Ben replies, “can’t wait to see you! I’ve missed hanging out, you know? Even after…everything.”

The gravitational force of John’s presence—the shift and bend of your flat around him—snaps in half. Reality asserts itself like a recurring headache. 

Suddenly you’re in your flat, phone to your ear, unshowered from last night and coated in a layer of grease. The vibrator is a useless weight in your pocket. You are a useless girl hungover in day-old clothes.

“I’ll see you soon,” you say noncommittally, and hang up.

John gazes at you expectantly from over the sink.

“Work trip,” you say, and you wonder if you sound as dazed as you feel. “Last minute, I…I need to get ready.”

John blinks, and then grins, amused. Crow’s feet gather in the corners of his eyes. “You know, I’m usually the one in that situation.”

Suddenly he is too much to look at. You tear your gaze away, look at your phone in your hands. You feel very exposed, ashamed somehow. “I’m sorry,” you say.

You hear the easy drum of John’s boots out of your kitchen, across the room, and then he’s in front of you. His hands are in his pockets, arms slung loose at his sides. “What for?”

“For…”

He steps closer to you. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you have to look up at him, unable to resist the pull he has on you.

The line of his mouth is gentle, and you stare too long at the divot of his Cupid’s bow. Beneath the soft lines of his brows, his gaze is soft, fond. More so than you deserve.

“I don’t really know.”

The long muscle in his neck shifts as he tilts his head. You swallow, unconsciously mirroring the gesture.

“John…I…”

His gaze drops—rests on your lips, and returns to yours.

“Love,” he murmurs, low and humming. “Did you mean it?”

His voice slides across you like physical touch, and every hair feels like it’s standing on end.

Yes. Yes, of course you meant it, every word. It feels so obvious to you, so blatant, and the shame of it holds you by the throat. You are not important enough to inflict upon John Price. You are trembling, meek, afraid of stepping outside your own door sometimes. What is that in comparison to him? Him, who comes home shaking off the dust of places you’ve only ever heard of. Him, who you’ve learned can swear in six different languages. Him, who has stuffed more life than you thought possible into only a handful more years of living than yours.

Of course you want him. Moths are always drawn toward flame. How could you not?

“John,” you say in your smallest voice. You hate the way it sounds—like an admission of guilt. “What if I did?”

He doesn’t move, but you see the shift in him anyway. A coiling, almost,  energy banking as he studies you, searches your face. His hands remain in his pockets. He watches you for a long moment, and you can’t possibly imagine what he might like in what he sees.

“Ball’s in your court, then,” he finally says, soft and low in his chest. “Whatever you want from me, love, you can have.”

You want too much. You can’t give enough back.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” you say on a shallow breath. “Our—us. What we already have.”

He steps closer to you. Close enough that his shirt brushes the front of your dress. Close enough that his clean, soft warmth near-envelops you, the exact same way you’d been wishing for earlier. He does not reach out, like he did when he thought you were sick. You cannot decide if this disappoints you or not. You feel shaky without his hands on you, feverish and embarrassed, and you fear desperately that he can see that as he holds your gaze, that you are completely open to him in a way that leaves no space for the truth to hide. 

“You won’t,” he says, steady and solid.  

You take a trembling breath, swallow to clear your throat. “I…”

He withdraws one hand from his pocket, slowly, and brings it upward. Feather-light, he curls his index finger under your chin, caressing his thumb so terribly gently beneath your bottom lip. You cannot help flinching, anticipatory want recoiling from the very thing it was aching for in surprise, and for a split second you are newly scared that he’ll take his touch away.

But he doesn’t. The windows of John’s eyes stay open, and there is nothing but intent behind them. You realize he knows. He knows that you’re reluctant, that you’re unsure, that you are pulled to him like a falling star to earth and also terrified of burning up in the process. 

He understands.

“I’m a patient man, love,” he purrs, and you realize too that he is excited by this, by you. “I can wait. As long as you need.”

PSA: For my own sanity this will be the last chapter I utilize the taglist. If you would like to know when this story is updated you may follow me, turn on my post notifications, or subscribe to the series on ao3. Thank you.

Taglist: @yeyinde @guyfieriii @aduckinpain @jaimiespn @aconstructofamind @trashy-panda777 @lich1 @smoggyfogbottom @antigonusyuki @bubble-dream-inc @itsthetiredstudent @misshoneypaper @wasteland-babe @jxvipike @deadbranch @yes-music-is-my-religion @hailstrum18 @ramadiiiisme @glassgulls @wiserebelpartypie @stripeycatt @staymetalmacie @capt-soaps-bbg @rdeville @diorstarr

#john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #price x reader #price x you #cod x reader #cod x you #captain john price #cod imagine #cod fanfic #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 smut #mw2 imagine #cod:mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 fanfic #neighbors au #og post

[duke-daemon]

hazbin hotel redesigns wooooooooo

okay so. i'm gonna discuss my thoughts about them n shit, putting under a readmore bc it's gonna get long and rambley. sorry in advance for the shit formatting, i'm on mobile </3

just some general shit about how i would rewrite it. i think the premise of redeeming sinners is entertaining but is executed horribly. i also am a fan of the "heaven isn't great either" idea but again, executed horribly. i'd make the hierarchy of angels more accurate because it's cool as hell and i have autism about it. the characters from hell would swear still (albeit not as much), but the angels would outright refuse to swear or make vulgar jokes ever. this would be partially to further the gap between heaven and hell and make the differences more stark.

hell would also be more like dante's inferno (again because i think its cool). the ars goetia would get a full redesign and would be more prevalent in demonic society.

now for the characters!

---

VAGGIE VALTIEL:

starting off with vaggie, or Valtiel as i've renamed her because let's be honest her original name sucks. Valtiel (Val for short) was an aspiring power angel who wanted to be an exorcist. she looked up to lute and thought the idea of killing demons was really cool and badass. however when she actually was on the field for the first time she discovered how awful this actually was. she tried to help a few demons but lute figured it out and felled her right then and there. the rest of her story is relatively the same. personality wise she's more stoic and less prone to all-out aggression. she still get angry, sure, but it's in a quieter and more menacing way. you DO NOT want to fuck with Valtiel.

CHARLIE:

next up is charlie! i had two ideas for her. the first one (unsettling drawing) has her as a mannequin/doll type demon. lucifer and/or lilith was unable to conceive and as such they built a kid from scratch. she's overall similar to og charlie personality wise, very kind and cheerful despite her unsettling appearance. she struggles with empathy sometimes but really does mean well. her motive for rehabilitating sinners is so they get to see their family again. being able to see heaven from where they are in hell must make them sad, so she wants to help make them happy again!

the second idea for charlie has her as an angel. specifically i casted her as a dominion angel due to their reputation as holy judges. she was once a demon but has been rehabilitated and has risen into angelhood! she now wants to help her former kin do the same and redeem themselves in heaven's gaze. again, similar cheery personality, but a bit more prudish in this rendition

tangent time!

as a side tangent, valtiel and charlie would have a different relationship in this rewrite. their relationship felt shoehorned in in the original show, like it was just there for the hell of it. we didn't see much development between them and it just felt kinda bland. so in my rewrite, charlie and valtiel are amiable exes. they tried dating when valtiel first fell (when charlie was still a demon in the charlie-angel version) but realized their feelings for each other were much more platonic than romantic. they ended things off on good terms, deciding they were much better as friends. they are still besties to this day! later charlie ends up with emily (or 'ellie' as i plan to rename her)

back to the characters

Alastor:

note: i made alastor mixed-race, which could be seen as bad by some due to vivzie saying he's black. however, as many have pointed out, he has no ethnic features whatsoever and i honestly wouldn't be surprised if she said that just to get away with using voodoo symbols (a closed religion) in his imagery/design. like viv, i am incredibly white and have little to no knowledge of voodoo, and even if i did i would not use it for something like this anyways due to the stigma the religion already has and (again) it being a closed practice. as such i removed it from his concept altogether, but made him mixed race (white passing) because.. why not i guess, i forgor my actual reasoning

with that being said...

alastor is by far my favorite of the redesigns and i'm honestly tempted to turn him into a legally distinct oc. i imagine he's somewhat reserved, along the lines of norman bates albeit a bit more extroverted. during his life he was a serial killer with a day job as a radio announcer. he took pleasure in reporting about his own murders on the radio, but that is eventually what got him caught (ie accidentally letting slip info that wasn't released to the public). as a result he was sentenced to death. upon arriving in hell, he quickly rose through the ranks to borderline overlord status and is a feared presence by demons and sinners alike. why is he bothering to assist in the hotel project? who knows... his motives are a mystery, like the rest of what he does

(he isn't actually alastair crowley i just thought the naming convention was ironic. however he may have also dabbled with satanic magic in lifetime..)

Angel Dust:

TW: brief discussion of SA

this is definitely my second favorite redesign. i loooove insect themes and wanted to do more than just Extra Arms, so he now has fucked up legs and a lot of eyes too! story-wise, angel used to be a criminal mastermind, hated by both the mafia and the feds. he was a gentleman thief, arranging massive heists under the cover of night while also partaking in the occasional drag show. he ended up a cocaine addict later in life, which caused his work to become sloppier. eventually he was killed in a heist gone wrong, specifically shot by the police.

i'm not gonna go too in-depth on the SA part of his story, but he is hypersexual due to being assaulted in both his life and afterlife. it would be something he'd be working on in the rewrite. his reason for coming to the hotel in the first place may have even been for help with this trauma. underneath his sultry exterior is a broken guy who really just needs someone to care about him for who he really is and not for what his body can do.

LUTE:

so lute and adam are some of the characters i have the most gripes about. the biggest one being why viv chose adam as the leader of the exorcists in the first place. if she wants a biblical figure tied to demon killing, Archangel Michael is RIGHT THERE, aka the one destined to kill satan during the events of Revelations. if she wants the first human to die, that would be Abel, not Adam. and i kinda doubt abel would want to do the stuff that HH!adam has been doing. if she wants an angel related to torture, Dumah is her guy! an angel that rules over wicked souls and tortures sinners every day except sabbath. so many better options...

with that out of the way, Lute is still the lieutenant of the exorcist, who are a specially chosen group of powers sent to purge hell once a year. think navy seals. she's pretty much the same as in the show, albeit more muscular and visually different from other exorcists (seriously why do they all look exactly the same?????) she's a very repressed lesbian who hasn't had time to work on that due to her duties

i also redesigned the exorcist uniform/armor because those LED purge masks are fugly as hell and their clothes don't even look remotely like armor.

Adam + Final Thoughts

i did start a redesign of adam but got bored of it. regardless, i think he'd be the head of C.H.E.R.U.B. instead of the exorcists. he doesn't want his children to make the same mistakes he and eve did, so together they started C.H.E.R.U.B. to help lost souls stay out of hell

final thoughts uhhhh i'm tired. show sucks, it had so much potential but viv ruined it by being a shitty writer and an even shittier person. the designs are fine i guess but they all look exactly the same and are in desperate need of variety. the humor is dogshit, saying dick and balls and penis over and over and over again doesn't make it any funnier than the first three times you made that joke. anyways that's it, i hope you liked my inane ramblings. gonna go vanish for another forty years or so, adios

#am i gonna do more? idk. we'll see #oh boy sorry about the seventy million tags #i eat bees #artist #oc artist #artists on tumblr #artist on tumblr #hazbin hotel #hazbin critical #hazbin redesign #hazbin rewrite #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #hazbin art #hazbin hotel art

[coconut-dreamz]

gorgeous

"you've ruined my life, by not being mine" || tom blyth x actress! reader

a/n: i'm baaaack, with more ts and love for tom blyth

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk

you were at out at a local bar with some of your cast mates from tbosas. you were sitting with rachel and you were mocking tom's british accent. the two of you were laughing at your terrible impression. "why does he say that! it's so funny!" rachel laughs.

"what are you two laughing about?" tom's walks over from the other side of the table. "nothing" you both mumble out, sharing a look. "sounded like you were having a lot of fun earlier" he adds, you laugh at this. "sounded like you were having a lot of fun earlier." you repeat in a british accent, mimicking tom.

rachel bursts out laughing at this. tom just gives you two a look like you'd both gone insane. "making fun of me now?" he asks, as you lose it. "maybe," you make out between laughs. "that's not very nice." he says in a jokingly stern voice. "sorry, we just think your normal accent is so funny." rachel explains as you continue to laugh.

exasperated, tom leaves, going to find the company of people who won't laugh at him when he speaks. this causes the two of you to laugh even harder.

you should think about the consequence off your magnetic field being a little too strong

somehow, you always found yourself gravitating towards tom. whether you're on the opposite side of the room from him, you always find yourself right by him within a matter of minutes. he had a weird pull on you.

you had been talking with an actor that played one of the background academy students when you heard tom's laugh from across the room. it distracted you from the conversation you were having. she seemed to have noticed your lack of attention and just smirked. "go ahead," was all she said and nodded her head towards tom. you thanked her and left towards him.

he smiled as he saw you approaching the group, opening his arms to you for a hug. you sighed contently as his arms around you. "how are you?" he whispered in your ear. "better now that you're here." you admitted

and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what

your boyfriend had just texted you telling you he was going out with some friends for the night. it was morning for you, being on the opposite side of the planet from him. hearing that from him, you knew you'd probably be seeing some headlines of him in the morning, or night for you.

things were strained lately, with you being busy with back to back projects and him, honestly not doing shit. it made him feel emasculated knowing you were currently the it girl and he was just known as your boyfriend. he was a bit older and no longer in his prime and no longer booking big projects.

you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much whiskey on ice, sunset and vine

you were on a break from filming so you, rachel, tom and josh decided to go to la and soak in some sun. you four were out at dinner. and tom was telling you all about what it was like filming for billy the kid.

he was nursing a whiskey and ice, recounting all the notable parts of filming. it made you so jealous. he was just so damn cool. this was not helping your giant crush on him.

you've ruined my life, by not being mine you're so gorgeous

you and tom were sitting in your trailer, just basking in the peace and quiet. it wasn’t everyday that you got to sit and relax and enjoy some coffee and mediocre croissants.

it killed you knowing that tom wasn't yours. you even broke up with your loser boyfriend. "god, you're so fucking gorgeous." you mutter under your breath while sitting with tom enjoying coffee. "what was that?" he looks up from his book. "huh, oh nothing!" you blurt out, not realizing you said that out loud, taking a sip of your coffee.

i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face

"hunter, why's he so damn gorgeous. i can't handle it!" you shout to hunter. you were all gathered in some local bar. you longingly stared at tom from across the bar. "girl, i don't know. tell him yourself." she answers blandly. "i can't! nothing ever comes out of my mouth when i try to talk to him. he must think i'm some type of weirdo!" you exclaim, annoyed by the beauty of that gorgeous, gorgeous man standing across the crowded room.

and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous

"oh my god! i'm so mad!" you randomly shout as you third wheel rachel and josh in rachel's trailer. "what is it now?" josh asks, tired of your antics. "we all know it's tom. it's always tom." rachel answers for you. "i'm so furious that he makes me feel this way, but he's not mine!" you dramatically flop onto the couch.

josh shakes his head hearing this, "then tell him how you feel!" he advises you. "i can't! he's too gorgeous for me!" you reply, fake crying into the pillow. the two roll their eyes at your dramatics. you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you

it was finally the end of filming, so the director threw a wrap party. you waltzed around the room, talking to nearly every single person. everyone but tom.

"why won't she talk to me? is she mad at me?" tom asks hunter. she gives rachel a knowing grin. "i don't think she's mad at you, but you should ask her yourself." rachel adds, pushing him towards you.

tom decided he had enough of you ignoring him and walked towards you, interrupting your conversation. "hey, can i talk to you?" he asks, you simply nod, too nervous to speak.

and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in the darkened room

he grabs your hand and leads you to a dark corner of the venue the party was being held. "did i do something wrong?" he asks, a concerned look on his face. "no! not at all!" you exclaim, trying to alleviate his thoughts. "i've just been feeling nervous around you lately."

if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her but if you're single that's honestly worse 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

you weren't sure of tom's relationship status, he never mentioned anything about having a girlfriend and you never mentioned anything about being in a relationship either. not that you even were in one anymore.

a part of you wanted him to be single, but a part of you hoped he wasn’t. it was honestly worse if he was single. it probably meant he wasn't interested then.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine i feel like i might sink and drown and die

you stare into his blue eyes. you never realized how blue they were. they were like oceans. all you wanted to do was swim in them, or even drown in them. they were so gorgeous, just like him. "have your eyes always been so blue?" you ask aloud, staring deeply into his eyes.

you make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have

you loved spending time with tom. he made you happy. but there was always a sad feeling that's fill your heart when you thought about how he wasn't yours.

"are you single, tom?" you break the silence after your precious confession. this question shocks tom for a moment. "yeah, why?" he asks a little confused by your conversation now. "can i kiss you?" you whisper out, inching closer to him.

he doesn't answer and instead slams his lips onto your own. after a few moments of passionate kissing, you pull apart. "you don't know how long i've been waiting to do that." tom whispers, his face still only inches from you. "god, you're so gorgeous" you mutter out.

#tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine

[k0juki]

Hiii!!

Could you please do a one-shot with jealous! Kimi? Maybe during an interview, he's already had enough and wants to leave, but after seeing a journalist or somebody else trying to flirt with his gf (they both agreed to keep their relationship private), he loses it and once he goes up to her after telling that guy to get lost, he physically relaxes and basically melts to her touch...forgetting that they were surrounded by cameras that had just recorded every second of the exchange.

I'd like to imagine how the other drivers and the fans in general would react to that :))

Thanxx <3

Yur!!!🧊 Sorry it took me too so long...school is pain.

His girl

Kimi Räikkönen x fem!reader

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!

More stuff here!

Words: 573

---

It wasn't strange to see Kimi annoyed. Most people that worked with him knew how he could get and this was no different. But what annoys him the most are only two things. 

Firstly, not winning the race and media being dick about it and secondly, when anyone flirts with his girl. Of course nobody knows that you are together, but still, it makes his Finnish blood boil.

And let's just say that today wasn't his best day at all. Not only he fucked up the rece, but as the interview progressed, Kimi patience wore thinner with each passing question. He'd had enough of the same inquiries, the same stupid questions and the same attempts to extract emotions from him that he preferred to keep hidden. Yet, he maintained his ice cool demeanor, answering tersely but efficiently. 

However, his face cracked when he caught a glimpse of someone leaning a bit too close to his girlfriend, Y/n, who was standing just a few feet away, watching the interview with a supportive smile that he loves. She is his safe place. When something happens, he knows that he can go to her. To make him feel loved. 

And when he heard the journalist's flirtatious tone and lingering gaze he held on her, made Kimi's blood boil beneath his calm exterior. In a rare moment of unfiltered emotion, Kimi abruptly ended the interview, muttering something about needing a break and with determined strides, he made his way over to Y/n, who looked surprised at his sudden approach. 

"Hey, is everything okay?" she asked, concern evident in her voice, but Kimi ignored her question and pulled her into his arms possessively, caging her in and casting a sharp glare at the journalist who had dared to encroach on his territory. His girl.

"Get lost" he growled, the words were laced with a dangerous edge and it almost sounded like a threat. Once the unwanted intruder had retreated, Kimi felt a wave of relief wash over him. His tense muscles gradually relaxed as he buried his face in Y/n's hair, inhaling her familiar scent that he loves so much. 

The anger started to melt away and was replaced by a sense of calm and contentment that only she could bring him. Unbeknownst to Kimi, their intimate moment had been captured by the surrounding cameras, broadcasting his uncharacteristic display of jealousy to the world. 

Among the other drivers, reactions varied. Some were surprised, having never seen this side of Kimi before, while others like Sebastian just gave a knowing look, he understood the depth of Kimi's feelings for Y/n. As for the fans, social media and everyone else erupted with speculation and commentary. 

"I think everyone knows that we are together now." You murmured against him. His strong arms still wrapped around you.

"Yeah, but at least they won't be flirting with you before my eyes."

---

In the days that followed, Kimi and Y/n found themselves surrounded by an outpouring of support and affection from fans, friends, and fellow drivers. Despite initially feeling exposed by the public display of their relationship, they soon realized that it had only brought them closer together. 

As they retreated to the quiet sanctuary of their home, Kimi and Y/n reveled in the simple joys of each other's company. They shared laughter, tender moments and whispered words of love that were meant for each other's ears alone. 

---

Requests are open!

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

#x reader #k0juki's stuff 🩷 #f1 #f1 x reader #x female!reader #kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi räikkönen x fem!reader #kimi räikkönen x reader #kimi räikkonën #kimi #kr7 #kimi raikkonen x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #formula 1

[gallusrostromegalus]

On God I was working on the AEIWAM Outline today but I also got "The AEIWAM cast, post-fic, go to the Aquarium" brainrot so have this:

It kicks off with Retsu seeing Kenpachi deep in thought for once and asking him what he's mulling over and after a moment he asks: "Are there zoos for fish?" "...Pardon?" "There are lotsa fish," he reasons, "-at least as many as there are land animals, but they're all really hard to see, because they're in the water." Retsu considers him for a moment before gently asking "Do you mean The Aquarium?" "The what?"

Retsu, texting Ichigo in the Gotei-13 Groupchat at 2AM: I need you to acquire tickets and human chaperones for a group field trip to The Aquarium Ichigo, who fears her above everyone else in soul society: Yes, Captain. Retsu: If it was just the SWA I'd only ask for tickets but you know what The Lads are like. Ichigo: Unfortunately, Yes. Ichigo: I'll bring the first aid kit, zip ties, duct tape and candy. Retsu: Good man.

Upon Arrival, Kenpachi has already been lectured about "You ARE NOT ALLOWED to fight and/or eat the fish, no matter how annoying and/or delicious they look

Turns out they were lecturing the wrong guy because it's Byakuya that develops a personal rivalry with a grouper ("It's smug expression disgusts me." "Captain that is a FISH.") and has to be talked out of climbing into the tank to fight it

after that he has to hold hands with Rukia or Renji.

Rukia discovers Sea Bunnies and ends up crying about them.

Yachiru gets to see them feeding the Piranha and it's a Spiritual Experience for her.

Later, she gets to see them feed the sharks and it's an EVEN BETTER spiritual Experience.

Hitsugaya learns Penguins are real and not just 'made up for christmas, like the flying reindeer and the guy with the suspect toy charity'.

Momo lights into him about "Penguins are my favorite animal, they've been my favorite animal for decades YOU THOUGHT THEY WERE FAKE?" Hitsugaya: "YOU ALSO USED TO LIKE UNICORNS!" Momo: "THOSE ARE ALSO REAL!" Orihime: "They are?" Momo: "...I keep forgetting they're extinct in the living world."

Tousen gets to experience the Touch Pool and the docents realize what's up so they start pulling out the cool stuff like sea hares and moray eels because he's an adult that can be trusted to pet things gently.

When the group comes back to collect him the staff is letting him hand feed a Pacific Red Octopus, and Yachiru immediately demands she be allowed to as well.

Retsu quietly releases Minazuki into the stingray touch pool so she can "go play with her cousins :)"

Kenpachi and Yamamoto asking "Can we eat it?" about every. single. animal.

The extremely dedicated docent that is *just* Psychic enough to know something is up with this group of chucklefucks so they're following them through the aquarium, but is also genuinely having fun answering every fucking insane question these guys ask.

Yoruichi was not anticipating there to be Tigers at the aquarium (they ARE semi-aquatic and part of a larger exhibit on Tropical Riparian Ecosystems) and she is SUPER NOT JEALOUS of how much Urahara and Baby Labcat like them.

There is also an exhibit with an Anaconda that the docent finds Rangiku staring at with a forlorn expression. Docent: "It's okay, not everyone is a fan of snakes." Rangiku: "What? Oh, no, I love snakes. They just also remind me of my Ex." Docent: *WomanTryingToDoMath.Meme* Docent: *Considers the size of the Anaconda* Docent: "...Ah. Yeah, I'd miss a man like that too."

Renji, Ichigo and Ikkaku going "Its YOU!" to each other over every single red, orange or round creature.

Kenpachi going "IT ME!!" about the black urchins before anyone can get him though.

Shunsui pointing at the sea otters that are holding hands and declaring, tears in his eyes "Jushiro! It's US!" Ukitake then prompty ruins the moment by telling Shunsui Fun Facts about Sea Otters like how they're basically giant marine weasels that will absolutely drown each other's young and maul anyone dumb enough to touch one.

The Dolphins all love Komamura and he is just a little bit smug about this.

Relatedly, not sure if its funnier for Komamura to show up in a Human Gigai, or as Tousen's "Service Dog"

Human Gigai: -Komamura is weirdly stony-faced and sort of intimidating and everyone thinks he's stressed out but really he's used to making micro-expressions and gesturing with his ears so he sorta just forgot how to move his face. -Still Nine and a Half feet tall and smacking his head on Everything

Service Dog: -"He's uh. A Shepherd. Mix." Ichigo says to the aforementioned Docent about what is very obviously a Bigass Timber Wolf. -Sajin doesn't give a rat's ass about his cover and keeps talking to Tousen while in dog form. If anyone looks at him funny he makes direct eye contact and says "Woof. Bark."

Yamamoto vs. Escalator. Catastrophic Beard Incident. 2 injured, 16 Dead but they were like that already.

Ukitake, Retsu, and Tama all Not Shutting Up With Facts About Every Fish Ever because they all share a Special Interest.

They briefly lose Byakuya in the Jellyfish exhibit because Rukia and Renji both thought the other one was holding Byakuya's hand and he is *enchanted* by the wall-sized tank of Moon Jellies.

Ikkaku attempting to talk Yachiru out of getting the ridiculously oversized Great White Shark plushie only for Zaraki to get it for both of them instead.

Everyone had a great time and is Very Tired and so they don't realize anything is amiss until they get back to Ichigo's place and the nightly news comes on. "Hey ichigo?" Yuzu calls. "Why is Ms. Unohana on TV?" The news has a story with a still image of Retsu on CCTV and "Authorities are looking for this woman who somehow ADDED a fully intact and highly venomous short-tailed stingray to the aquarium's touch pool" "OH MY GOD WE FORGOT MINAZUKI!"

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #retsu unohana #kenpachi zaraki #jushiro ukitake #Genryusai Yamamoto #kaname tousen #sajin komamura #yachiru kusajishi #rukia kuchiki #byakuya kuchiki #renji abarai #ichigo kurosaki

[moonstruckme]

idk if u listen to taylor swift but her song mastermind (which is kinda like maneuvering things around to get together with someone) would be so cool to read with TASM! Peter !! Maybe the reader realizes Peter is Spiderman after recognizing his voice and then tries her hardest to become Peter’s friend in school and kinda puts all the pieces together herself (+ the line ‘to assess the equation of you’ is so peter coded) also I feel like smart reader deserves more rep 😞 like no way she wouldn’t recognize his cocky ass voice

Again this is just like. Me spilling out my random thoughts 🤭 -🍁 (sorry for spam)

Hi lovely! I didn't stick to this very faithfully, but it did inspire an idea that I'd be remiss not to give you credit for! It's established relationship, where reader has figured out Peter is Spiderman (I agree she's not dumb and that needs to be regonized). Thank you <33

cw: a whiff of harassment (more of an attempt really, but if that will upset you please don't read)

tasm!Spiderman x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

It’s hard to feel totally vulnerable walking around the city at night when you know you’re never really by yourself. Peter thinks he’s so stealthy, but he can’t always avoid casting shadows on the street ahead of you; you were bound to catch onto his well-intentioned stalking eventually. You’re not totally sure why he doesn’t just walk you home as himself (you’re coming from his apartment, it’s not like it would have been so difficult to ask), but your boyfriend seems to prefer stepping into his alter-ego when he thinks there’s any possibility for danger. 

It turns out this time, he was right.

It’s not that you don’t see the man walking in the opposite direction of you (you’d have to be blind to miss the slow, performative up-down he gives you) or notice his mouth moving in your periphery, but you’re city-trained; you keep your eyes ahead, hoping he’ll see that you’ve got your earbuds in and leave you alone when he doesn’t get the attention he wants. 

The man passes you, and you’re thinking you’re in the clear when there’s a forceful tug on your elbow. You very nearly pitch forward in your haste to get away from the unwelcome touch, but then the hand is wrenched away, and you turn to find the man stuck to a newspaper dispenser with one wrist covered in a familiar white filmy substance. A second later, and his other hand is webbed to the car behind him. 

You pull out your earbuds just as Spiderman lands in front of you, the tilt of his head indicating that he’s looking you over for damage. 

“Hey, what the fuck!” The man sputters. “I was just trying to pay the bitch a compliment—”

“Alright, thanks for that, pal.” Spiderman webs his mouth shut, and your harasser continues his muffled protests. “Maybe we just have different styles, but most of my compliments don’t start with unsolicited commentary on a stranger’s boobs.” 

You curl your lip, and the man looks like a dog on its leash the way he’s tugging against his restraints. Your rescuer webs his feet in place, stopping their scraping against the sidewalk.

“You know,” he says, turning to you, and he’s not even trying to disguise his voice, “you should really have at least one earbud out if you’re walking by yourself at night. That’s just the first entry in the Pretty Girl Guidebook.” 

You grin at him. “I think the first entry in the Pretty Girl Guidebook would really advocate more for playing damsel in distress to lure charming heroes your way. Walk me home, handsome?” 

You start back on your way, and he follows you like it’s all he knows how to do. He’s quiet, and though you can’t see his expression behind the mask, you wonder if you’ve actually startled Spiderman into silence. If he expects you to be bashful and awestruck, he’s got another thing coming; you’re typically a bit shy around new people, but Peter isn’t new people. 

“Yeah?” he asks after a second, and you wonder if you’d be able to detect the slight pitchiness to his voice if you didn’t know it so well. “So was that the plan all along? Get yourself attacked to get yourself rescued?” 

“No.” You shrug, casting a disdainful glance back toward the man who’d grabbed you. “I don’t go out looking for trouble, but I know that if it finds me,” you say, looking up into the mask with a simpering smile, “I’ve got Brooklyn’s friendly neighborhood hero to protect me.” 

You think he actually gulps. “I’m flattered you think so highly of me, sweetheart, but you really should take some precautionary measures too.” 

“Well, I suppose I could’ve asked my boyfriend to walk home with me,” you muse, “but he seemed like he was eager to have me gone. Better things to do, apparently.”

“What?” It’s a squawk, and then Peter clears his throat from behind the mask. “I’m sure if your boyfriend’s a sensible guy—which, I mean, anyone who managed to snag a girl like you must not be totally airheaded—I’m sure he didn’t mean to rush you off.” 

“I don’t know.” You frown, looking off in front of you contemplatively. “He’s book smart for sure, but he can be kind of dense sometimes.” You can feel your companion’s hesitation like a prickle at your side, his uncertainty of how to go about this conversation with you, and it catches him offguard when you stop to look up at him with coy, wide eyes. “Do you think you’re a sensible guy?”

His voice is strangled. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you hum, slowly moving into his space. 

“I—I like to think so, sure.” 

It’s all you can do not to giggle at how easily his cocky persona has come undone. You’re having too much fun to even feel bad about the torment you’re inflicting upon your boyfriend. “Maybe I should be with you, then,” you say. 

He actually takes a step back. “But—but—uh, listen, you’re really pretty, but didn’t you say you had a boyfriend?” 

“Yeah,” you say softly, batting your eyelashes up at him, “what about him?”

You’ve got your hands on his shoulders, lips so close to his face you can feel the warmth of his breath through the mask, and you actually think he’s going to do it. He’s going to let you kiss him. You shove playfully at his chest, unable to contain your laughter anymore.

“Pete, c’mon,” you say, careful to keep your voice low. “You must think I’m an idiot. You really thought I wouldn’t recognize you?”  

There’s a few moments of wordless sputtering which you can’t really hold against him, and then Peter’s whisking you into an alley, pulling his mask off. 

“Sorry for fucking with you,” you say while he’s still getting his bearings. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wide. “It was just so easy to flirt back. You made it too much fun for me.” 

“Jesus, babe.” Peter fists a hand in his hair, already fluffy from being handled so much. “When did you figure it out?” 

“I mean, before today, but not very long ago,” you admit. “I knew something was up for a lot longer, but I didn’t put it together until you helped me with that mugger a few weeks ago.” You quirk a playful eyebrow. “You should at least try to distort your voice if you’re going to be Spiderman around people who know you in real life, you know.” 

“Never had to with Flash,” he mutters. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

You turn a bit more sheepish, unsure if you should feel guiltier about keeping your realization from him. To be fair, though, he’d kept a whole crime-fighting secret identity from you. “Is there ever a right time?” you ask him with a little shrug. “I guess I eventually wanted you to tell me on your own. I get why you didn’t, but it’s not like you’re exactly choosing to trust me here.” 

“I do,” Peter says immediately. He takes your shoulder in hand, like he needs to keep you steady to make sure you’re hearing him. “I do trust you, honey. It was never about trust.” He passes a hand over his face, shock melding into something more like dread. “It just, it could be dangerous for you, if you’re ever seen with me and it's obvious you know who I am, or something. I didn’t want to drag you into anything. There are…not everyone thinks of me as the friendly neighborhood hero you do.” 

He gives you a little smile, and you return it, stroking his jaw in an attempt at comfort. “I know,” you say softly. 

“We’re going to have to be careful.” 

“I know. Pete?” 

“Yeah?”

“If we’re being careful, you should probably put your mask back on.” 

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!spiderman #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter #tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm!peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker x self insert #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter parker fanfic #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter parker fluff #tasm!peter parker drabble #tasm!peter parker scenario #tasm!peter parker oneshot #the amazing spiderman

[love-toxin]

Ellie i want astarion to fuck my mouth

im SO sorry queen i had to make the meow meow a lil emotionally vulnerable while im at it pls forgive me 🐸

(cws: gn!reader, vampire fuckery, bg3 spoilers, oral (m! receiving), teasing, possibly ooc astarion bc im only starting act 2 LOL, jealousy sex, deepthroating, a touch of feral/rough sex, facefucking, astarion is so in love it makes him look stupid <3)

word count: 3.9k

Once again, an evening spent with your mind somewhere else is interrupted by something you weren't expecting. The fire gleams from the pit and washes warmth across your face, a glow cast over your skin as you sit with your fingers white-knuckling a cold mug. Your companions are off on their own save for Scratch, who despite being a bit furrier than the tavern's normal patrons sleeps quietly at your feet. It barely took any convincing to let him in considering the rather stellar reputation you've earned yourselves–not to mention you're sharing a spot around the hearth with a couple frizzy-haired barbarians and a Tabaxi bard strumming out a tune on her lute. All seems peaceful, the noise just relaxed enough that you can let your mind wander about all manner of things. Ponder all sorts of worries you have yet to deal with on your adventure.

But it seems you're destined for an interruption. The back of your neck prickles from nowhere, a chill slithering coldly down your spine…from the corner of your eye you spot him, his pale hand vanishing behind a door on the second floor of the inn.

He's watching you. That's your cue, his methods of distraction always seeming so trivial and out of the way–he could always just come over and tap you on the shoulder. But Astarion likes the chase and isn't much of a fan of sincerity, so it's only natural for you to pass your half-empty mug off to one of the barbarians, get a bumbled shout of gratitude and a slap on the back, and slip away from the night's bustle of the tavern to thump your way up the winding stairs. All four of the rooms have been rented out by you and your party but one will sit empty tonight–aside from your gear, you're fairly certain your room will be unoccupied as you find other sleeping arrangements.

Tap tap. Just in case there's danger looming too close to comfort, you and your partner have a particular signal. Just as your knuckles come away from the door the tapping echoes back, tap tap, and you smother a grin as your fist closes around the knob for you to step inside.

The oak door thuds behind you at once and clicks softly as the latch falls in place. Nothing but the ire of a god or a drunken ogre could interrupt you now….but there's not much to interrupt if there's only one of you here, and as your eyes sweep the simple room you don't spot hide nor hair of your darling creature of the night. You've got a teasing remark on the tip of your tongue, ready to let loose-

"Don't. Move."

-But before you can even take a breath, there's a blade's edge digging into your throat and a cold, lean body pressed up against your backside. Effectively caught between a rock and a hard place. Prey. Astarion's whispered commands, however deep and punctuated they are, only send shivers of delight through you rather than true fear–and you find yourself struck with a dumb grin, not at all immune to the soft touch of his lips as they graze your tender neck from behind. He's got his arm pulled so snug around your waist it feels more like the grasp of a lover than a robbery, but that's because it is.

"Light on valuables, huh?" You tease over your shoulder, your hands braced against his arm as it holds the knife so dangerously close to your pulse point.

"You aren't. Show me what you've got, or I'll look myself." He murmurs back, breath cool as it puffs shallowly against your skin. It's somehow sweet when he tries to be so hard-to-get with you–maybe, you wonder, he doesn't yet realize how attached you are to him despite all you've been through already. Enough that you don't feel the bite of harsh, real danger in your peripheral, which sooner leads him to loosen his grip and push you forward with a palm on the base of your spine–all while tugging the knife out of the way, of course. If you asked him, he'd say it's because it would be a waste to spill such divine blood all over the ground.

As you turn yourself around to face him, you come eye-to-eye with the glaring tip of the knife yet again. Astarion is half-dressed, a bit disheveled, looking as though he's on the cusp of needing a drink again. Those carmine-coloured eyes echo some deep, violent desperation, one that shakes his voice as he commands you with total sincerity to strip.

"Will you join me?" You ask, your voice tinged with adoring hope. It irritates him, hope. Usually, at least. Usually it doesn't rub him as wrong when you're the one with hope in your heart, but evidently tonight is different if his scoff is anything to go by.

"That depends." His gaze flits away as he worries his lower lip between his teeth, not as careful about nicking it with his fangs as he usually is. Something surely must be wrong if he's acting so strange, especially since nothing has happened lately that's seemed to upset him…at least not that he's told you. It could be something else entirely, or something you don't have any idea about. Once he meets your eyes again, the hand he's gripping the dagger in lowers slowly. It was just a prop, after all–never a real threat. "...So long as you don't forget who you pledged your love to. Me. I won't stand for all this…this nonsense I've seen of late."

You cock your head in reply with a raised brow, questioning and curious of what on earth he could be referring to. Astarion rolls his eyes but it's most assuredly a gesture to mask how weak your sincerity makes him, your honesty painfully boring but, at the same time, endlessly endearing. With a sigh he tosses the knife aside in an arc, the handle flipping over blade for it to fall perfectly on the tip, sunk half an inch into the table by the bed. He's got his attention locked on it for long enough that the shuffling of fabric is what turns his head back towards you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips on instinct as he watches your clothing slip off your positively tantalizing figure.

"We're gonna have to pay for that, you know." Whatever you're saying goes right through both ears, the way your giggles shake your shoulders being all that he can focus on right now. He can barely tear his eyes away once you've wiggled out of your bottoms, and you're swift to remind him of his stare when you cheekily throw the travel-worn trousers in his direction. But all he does is grab a handful of them and press them to his face, not soaking in the scent as much as the undeniable warmth from just coming off your legs. They're only an introduction, however. They're tossed right back at you without pause, and fall to the floor in a heap that Astarion carelessly steps over to get to you. To get closer. He can never really get close enough, ever.

Even an inch away from you, though, your love does nothing to close that last shred of distance between you. Where he was eager to touch you just a few minutes ago, now he keeps his hands down like he's nervous about grazing you with just his fingertips. But despite that you can clearly see how he keeps eyeing your lips, so if he won't meet you the rest of the way, you simply have to do it for him. A quick peck on the chin is too much yet not enough–he endures a noticeable quiver through his body that he tries to stifle, but he can't resist raising a hand to your neck and tilting your head higher, just enough that you won't miss this time when he plants his mouth on yours. Deeper this time, much deeper, with his tongue making an appearance to slither from a cold embrace to your unbearably hot one.

You'd love nothing more than to take it further right here, right now, but there's something stopping Astarion that you'd like to get to the bottom of. Just as he's getting a little lost in your kiss, his eyes shut and fangs scraping at your delicate tongue as it moves with his, you break it off with a warm hand pressed to his chest and bring him back to your unspoken question.

"Azzy, what's wrong?"

"Don't call me that," He snaps back suddenly, brow furrowed in immediate annoyance. He doesn't move away though–clearly you're a bit too enticing for him to rethink the embrace he has you in, nor the fact that you're bare and warm for nobody else but him. "So childish. Or did you simply forget my name already?"

"I could never forget you. Now tell me what's wrong, Az. You're acting weird."

This time, he just shoots you a glare that could kill you on the spot. It's damning, his fury terrifying enough written so plainly on his face….but it also stirs up something within you that won't be sated by words alone.

"Last time, darling. I'm warning you. And it's nothing. Just…" A shake of his head sends his perfect curls flying about, each one falling back into place more perfectly than he's coming across right now. "...I wish you had been around when I was alive. That's all."

"What do you mean?"

"The others are all…alive. Breathing. Warm. Some of them look at you like–like you aren't with me. Like they could sweep you off your feet without even a thought." He says it with so much defeat in his tone, so gently with so soft an edge that you almost can't hear it with the muffled sounds of the tavern under your feet. It's rare to hear him sound so…sad. It's a bit odd to think, but he often comes off younger than he is when he speaks this way. "Maybe, if…if I was with you, then…" He huffs, flinching away from your hand as it grazes his cheek. Yet, within a moment, he's turning back and nuzzling his face into your palm like he can't get enough, his hand coming up to brace your delicate wrist as if he's afraid you really will pull away from him. "...If I was with you, maybe I would never be what I am now."

"But I like who you are now." You insist, the smile slowly returning as it creases the edges of your lips. "I love you, Astarion. I mean it, I always will. Forever."

"Forever is a very long time, my sweet." You shoot him that naive look like you don't really get the gravity of what you're saying. You don't, on second thought–you haven't suffered through two immortal centuries like he has. "...Fine. You love me? Prove it, then."

His tone grows dark, as does the once-vibrant colour in his eyes. Something swirls about behind them like a shadow in the water of a blood-red lake.

"On your knees."

Huh?

"I said," The air grows hot around you despite the chill of his body on yours, a purr rising in the back of his throat as he pushes very gently on your shoulder. "Get on your knees."

And with his command hanging in the air, you follow so obediently you give him a pleasing shiver down the length of his spine and back. You sink down to the floor in one long, fluid motion, barely breaking eye contact as you brace yourself against his pale thighs. They don't even need your touch to come undressed, his pants falling with his thumbs hooked into the waist and tugged down just as easily as you did. He wastes no time in stepping out of them and kicking them away, but he doesn't really have the option to when you're already mesmerized by the image of what lies beneath–once the tip of his flushed, heavy cock sprung free of catching on his belt, you had your gaze glued to it like it's the first time you've ever laid eyes on him.

"I'll never get tired of this view." He smirks, all pompous and smug with no idea of the test of self-control he's about to face. Because although you may be the one beneath him, where you belong in this scenario, the haze over your eyes as you stare openly should be enough of a tell that your mouth is already watering. Astarion's gentle humming hits your ears as he takes himself in hand, tugging out a few slow strokes for your entertainment before he settles on holding it by the base, and guides it down towards your lips. He's so pale everywhere else that the ruddiness of the rubbery head is almost uncanny, but the pale pink blush that spreads throughout gives his flesh such a delicate look that you can't help but dive right in.

One slow, tentative lick up the tip, and Astarion has it written all over his face–he isn't going to be finished until you've got some bruises, that's for sure. You try another and he finally gets a grip on your head, fingers woven through your hair to keep you steady and to calm his trembling hands. Those soft kitten licks are always his weakness, each one a bit braver and deeper but peppered with hot little kisses in between. You press them all down the shaft and back, smearing the stiff flesh with spit and giving him a tongue bath that feels like it never ends–not that he wants it to, though. Those shaky breaths overhead are a telltale sign otherwise.

"More," He purrs, half-needy and half-demanding in the same breath. You kiss over his knuckles that still grip the base of his shaft, and can't help but smile up at him as he quietly taps the head against your lips, tap tap. Twice he knocks and begs silently for entry, and soon he releases a sigh from the depths of his belly as you swallow him down and welcome him in. "Show me what I deserve."

Astarion certainly doesn't need to tell you twice, he barely needs to tell you once. As soon as he's settled snugly where he belongs, he lets go of the grasp he had and watches in awe as you swallow. Every inch he thinks you can't take more of disappears inside your mouth, slid further and further until he starts to curve into the bend of your throat and loses the last vestiges of his willpower. All his strength saps into you like his teeth on your flesh–where he stole your power in your blood, you take it back just as easily with a flick of your tongue and the incessant squeeze of your throat.

"Getting impatient? Already? We've only just begun, love." You can feel the heat of his eyes shift as they turn further downward, no clothing able to serve as a boundary to hide the needy grind of your thighs together as you kneel. The reaction of your body to his rather lewd commentary doesn't help you either, and in one sweep of his gaze over your exposed figure he can see everything you're thinking like it's written across your skin in ink. "Don't stop rubbing those legs together. Show me just how badly you want me, darling."

It might be more embarrassing if you didn't know Astarion had seen it all already, and that he would most definitely be seeing much more of everything below in the future. The fact that you trust him with those fangs around all your sensitive areas is touching…and it also means he trusts you enough to be a little rougher when you're returning the favour. You've degraded yourself to a humiliating extent by being with him, by getting down on your knees for him no less, and with him wrapped so tight and cozy in your throat he's got a look like he's ready to make himself at home.

With a moan slipped in between the pauses, your beloved curls his thumbs down behind the shell of each ear, his palms laid flat against your temples so he won't let go so easily. The drawing back is easy, his cock parting less and less of the space inside until he's barely brought it back to the tip–but just as you're getting in a taste of his salty sweat and bitterly rich arousal as it sits heavy on your tongue, Astarion flashes you a wink and braces your face for impact as he thrusts back in. Your heat coddles every inch of him and shakes loose a string of raspy moans from his chest, while the scrape of your nails against his thighs and your soft, squirming tongue pressed flat against his girth only has him burning hotter. The first time is a tight fit for sure, but as he enters into a steady rhythm of pulling out and gliding past your sweet, stretched lips, each buck of his hips grows smoother and it gets easier with time. Sooner than either of you expected, you barely have to focus at all–you can sit nicely and let your attention wander up to his lusty gaze, idly suckling at whatever he manages to stuff inside for as long as he's able to keep it there.

"I know it's on your mind already, but tell me I'm beautiful, my sweet." Astarion croons like a cat to a mouse, speaking so sweetly like he isn't still ravaging the most tender areas of your throat, and fucking away any possibility of you speaking properly for the next little while. And he shows no signs of stopping, your squeaky, muffled moans as he grinds the heft of his cock against your tongue too delicious for him to think about it. But eventually he does, managing somehow to pry himself off of your beautiful, fucked-out, spit-slicked face to give you a chance. "Go on. Speak."

"Please," You croak, head hazy and your face dark with warmth. "You're so beautiful, Astarion, please. I love you."

"Will you love me forever?" You nod, the answer barely a hair's breadth from your swollen lips.

"For eternity."

Astarion takes a moment, a pause that lasts a lifetime or more, but the genuine joy that starts to spread across his smile could keep you alive for a century of centuries. It's not one you see often or ever see, but that makes it just as precious as any gold or treasure you might come across in your lifetime.

"...Eternity it is then, darling." One of those cold hands moves to stroke your hair, his touch fleeting yet his grip tight with desire as you lean in for a kiss–not on his lips, but rather the tip of his dick, of which is absolutely soaked by your influence…and of his readiness for the end, as you can see by the veins pulsing up the sides and the whole length twitching with anticipation. You can feel those little spasms through your tongue as it meets his slit, Astarion's chest heaving and fangs glinting as he gives in to the urges to nestle himself back inside. As much as he wants a proper kiss, he'll get one as soon as those frantic hips slow completely instead of picking up speed as he meets your delectable heat again. He could be using you for his pleasure alone for another two hundred years, and in your endless desire to please him you're not sure you'd oppose it–you know for a fact that once the centuries had passed, Astarion would be spending twice as long with his head down between your legs.

"One day, I'll tear that wretch of a vampire's heart out through his stomach," Astarion growls out of nowhere, suddenly sounding completely feral in the span of a moment. The ferocity with which he's fighting the tightness of your throat increases too, thought not much more than he already was–if you touched your neck you would feel the bulge of him sunk so deep he can see it, the rise and fall of that soft flesh tightening the knot in the pit of his belly. "-And we won't ever spend a day apart. I swear."

All you can do is ride with the pace he's offering, your throat cinching tight like a coinpurse the more he rams it with the full strength of his hips, nails digging into your scalp as he batters you rabidly without ever losing his grip. Soon, his query of "Ready, darling?" barely meets your ears, your attempt at not choking on each thrust and somehow sucking in a breath here and there too important for your survival.

And in a matter of moments, you're granted reprieve while also left hollow and empty at the same time, Astarion's fist yanking you back by the hair as he sucks in a huge, deep breath into his lungs. The twist of his other hand stroking himself down to the last few beats comes close to your face, your soft gasps for air the perfect background for your name to trickle out of Astarion's mouth–and with such a deep moan it rattles you through your blood down to your bones, you kneel and wait eagerly as your partner lets everything go for you. His balls tighten and squeeze as the pressure of that knot inside him snaps, and he watches with a devoted gleam in his eyes as you wear every rope of pearly cum he milks out for you in that orgasm that shakes him to the core.

"Look at that," He murmurs, voice nearly as wrecked and raspy as yours will be by tomorrow. "Painted like a canvas fit for the gods. Gorgeous."

If he could, he would save this image of you in a frame forever; your sweet, smiling face marred with the essence of him, your hair pulled back by his sweaty fingers but your eyes filled with so much love. Love, genuine and sincere, your giggles loopy and tired as you come down from the high, yet without any post-sex remorse that he fears each and every time you climb into his bed with him. It stays the same when he cleans you off and persists even once you kiss him, knees so wobbly you fall back into the sheets with the slightest push. You won't ever let him free, kiss after kiss pressed to his cold mouth as he climbs over you. Your ankles hook over his waist before he knows it, your smile desperate to be wiped off your face again once he chases that heat for the second, third, fourth, fifth, tenth time, until the sun rises and you're reminded of the downsides of entertaining a lover who never needs rest.

You might tell him you love him again when morning comes, despite the exhaustion tugging down your eyelids and the sweat pouring down your aching back. You probably will, knowing how naive and sincere you tend to be even when you shouldn't. Even so, this time…Astarion might not be able to pretend he doesn't feel exactly the same way.

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #ellie writes #anons #3k

[beatcroc]

a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #the noise #noisette #pizzahead #arting #pizzaposting

[astarion-approves]

astarion reacts to tav being betrayed by a loved one and tav getting injured during the betrayal?

Astarion x Gender Neutral Tav! - Fucking Randy Astarion first person POV - it's alright lol I can't even think of a summary for this...

Tags: More humor than angst, first person pov (Astarion), 500+ words, drabble, poor description of a fight, OOC Astarion

Summary: Honestly, I don't know what Tav saw in that human. A complete jackass, and one that would eventually get them killed.

Read here or on AO3

-------------------

The battle started just as any other. Tav ahead of us, usually sticking their nose where it didn’t belong, insulting strangers without a second thought, or even just punching someone at random for the hell of it. It was one of the things that made me approve of them so quickly. Their… ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude. I admired it. Loved it, really. 

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one. 

His name was Randy. Yes, Randy, if you can believe it. A human male who was tall and lanky, but not in an unattractive way— again, unfortunately for me. Somehow he had managed to woo Tav before we’d even met. The barbarian was a complete savage, encouraging Tav to make admittedly stupid decisions, drinking past his limit, and taking advantage of Tav’s kindness without them even realizing it. 

It came as no surprise when Tav spit straight into the face of someone trying to intimidate our group. Hell, I laughed in response. Watching someone wipe spit from their face in shock is never not funny. Disgusting, obviously, but hilarious nevertheless.

Shadowheart clicked her tongue and readied her weapon, Gale doing much the same but with a heavy sigh, Randy (fucking Randy, really? Seriously? Randy? RANDY?!) revealed his sword and steadied it in his hands, and my lovely self exposed my dangers— each of us ready to destroy those who stood before us. 

Tav grinned at their lover, laughing as Randy lunged forward and buried his sword into the spit covered face of the one that stood before them. A dagger would have been a better choice, but who am I to judge? Right? I was only a fucking magistrate. 

Fucker. 

Soon other’s flooded into the area, the quick murder drawing their attention to our group. Tav and Randy worked their way through the group, the rest of us picking off the rangers that tried to hide. 

A quick fight, as it usually was with our group… 

But then… something happened. 

A shot of fire, heading directly towards Tav and Randy— Shadowheart wasn’t fast enough to shield them and the pair were vulnerable against it. I heard Tav scream as Randy grabbed their shoulders and pushed them in front of himself. I could only watch as the fire flew towards them and exploded against Tav’s chest. They fell to the ground, landing on their side, no longer breathing. 

Gale cast a spell in the direction of the killer, but I wasn’t paying attention, I was running to Tav. 

They laid on the ground, their eyes open and staring into nothing, mouth hanging open as if they were still screaming from the blow. I dropped to my knees beside them, cradling their head in my lap, my hands tapping on their cheeks, words flying from my mouth but I didn’t even know what I was saying. 

“Leave them,” Randy said. “We need to keep moving.” 

I flung my dagger into his skull. 

Shadowheart began casting spells, anything they could do to bring Tav back—

But they still laid there. 

Luckily, all we had to do was carry them back to camp and Withers was able to bring them back from the dead. 

Randy we left behind. Because fuck Randy. 

And now, tonight, I’ll be making my first move on Tav. They’re still a little hurt from the betrayal, weeks later. And… they also tell us stories of their nightmares and the cool chill of death that lingers and haunts them— 

But they blush when they look at me, and that’s good enough for me. 

#x gn!reader #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion x gn! reader #astarion x gn tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion x you #OOC astarion #drabble #velvet writing #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion fan fic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #humor #it's not great lol

[wh0re43van]

Sparks (Evan Peters X Reader)

Summary: You’re a set director on American horror story’s Freakshow. Evan has been trying to convince you to ‘smoke and chill’ for months, but you’ve always rejected him in fear of jeopardizing your job. After a particularly stressful shoot, Evan finally convinces you to spark with him.

Warnings: intense smut, face fucking, choking, drug use.

Word count: 3k

A/n: This is my first time writing in awhile so I’m bit rusty

"Hey y/n I just re-upped,” Evan announces as he walks up behind me.  “He's got the best homegrown around and It's cured perfect every time. Come to my place tonight and I'll let you sample," He offers as he slips an arm around my shoulder. "You don't even have to match, just give me something else in return," he says lowly in my ear. My heart skips a beat and my cheeks blush red. Evans been blatantly flirting with me since we started shooting. It's been my own personal hell having to reject such a perfect man because its 'not professional to have personal relations with the cast'.

"Evan," I sigh as I look up at his dark eyes. "I honestly would love to-" he cuts me off.

"Then consider it y/n," he simply states. I smile at him. I have to admit that he's starting to wear me down

"Evan, I have to finish my walk through before the shooting starts" I turn back to the counter to consult my mockup. He backs up and leans against the wall.

"I’ll just keep you company then," he grins.

•

•

‘Fuck’ I curse internally as I run from a very angry Mr. Murphy. One of my idiot crew members forgot to do their only job and set out the menus for the next scene. We’re an hour behind on filming and we’re only here for three days. The director is pissed to say the least.

I throw open the door to the storage room and start ripping open boxes. I swear I'm going to lose every last ounce of sanity I have left. We started shooting two hours ago and I've rolled my ankle, got broken glass stuck in my hand, and of course, been bitched at constantly.

"Did you find them?" Evan questions as he closes the door behind him.

"What?" I ask, not processing what he's saying as I rip haphazardly through every single cardboard box in this room, brown paper flying everywhere.

"Did you-" He begins to repeat, then pauses. I feel him grab my arm gently, stopping my whirlwind of motion. "Y/N," he says calmy.

"What Evan?" I snap at him. I can feel the stress dripping out of every pore of my body. Turns out stress smells a lot like sweat. Evan jumps a bit at my tone, then simply points his 'lobster claw' to a box of pink menus that I opened without even realizing it. I was so stressed and overwhelmed I didn't even realize I found the goddamn menus four boxes ago.

I groan and lay my head on Evans chest.

"I'm such a fucking stupid idiot." I mumble his white shirt, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Evan chuckles and clumsily lifts my chin up with his makeup bound hands. His smile immediately drops when he sees my face.

"Hey y/n don't cry," he coos, his voice laced with concern.

"Evan I'm losing my mind," I sniffle as he pulls me into a hug.

"You know what you need?" He asks I shake my head 'yes.'

"A blunt." We both say in unison. I feel his cheek stretch into a smile against mine, proud of himself for finally convincing me.

•

•

My hand shakes as I ring the doorbell to Evans hotel room.

“Ma’ Lady,” Evan bows as he opens the door for me. What a dork.

“Thank you good sir,” I attempt a curtsy as I walk in. I guess were both dorks.

We chuckle as he latches the door behind me.

“Right this way,” he ushers me to his balcony looking over the city. I step out onto the cool concrete, hearing Heaven Beside You by Alice in Chains playing. There's two bean bag chairs set up with a bundle of blankets on each one. Purple and white string lights hang all around the ceiling and railing of the small balcony.

“Wow Evan, this is really cool. I’m impressed with how you spend your free time,” I admit, sitting down in one of the chairs, pulling a blanket into my lap.

“Actually,” he sits down in the chair beside me as he picks up the rolling tray. “I’ve never done this before. I set all of this up as soon as I got home,” he chuckles.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I tell him honestly. I’m dumbfounded. This might seem like a small gesture, but this is one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me. He went out of his way just for me.

“Then don’t say anything. Just grab me that bong,” he grins, pointing to the glass sitting on the ground next to the door. I stand up and bend over to pick up the simple clear bong, feeling Evans gaze burn into the back of me. When I hand him the piece, I get close enough to his face to see that his eyes are already glossy.

“Evan Peters,” I tisk. “did you start with out me?” I ask putting my hand to my chest in faux offense.

“I was a little nervous, I’ve been waiting for this for so long… I was scared if I was sober I’d mess it up,” he admits. His pale cheeks tinting pink.

“I’m flattered,” I smile. He opens the metal grinder sitting on his lap and begins to pack the bowl. “but it is rude to start a sesh before your guest arrives.” He hands me the packed bong.

“Well how’s bout you get this all to yourself and we call it even,” he wagers. I take the bong with a smile, accepting his offer. As I put the cool glass to my lips, I reach for the lighter on Evans thigh, but he snatches it, looking me in the eyes as he flicks the zippo, igniting a hot bright flame that he circles around the bowl. He begins to pull the flame away, but I grab his hand to hold the light in place for a couple more seconds. His eyes widen a bit and he smiles.

“Damn I’m glad I didn’t want any,” he chuckles, finally pulling away to spark his own joint. I pull the stem and inhale the milky smoke sharply, holding it in my lungs for bit before exhaling slowly. The smoke clouds around my face before a small gust of wind disperses it.

“Yeah, me to,” I grin softly as Evan takes another hit off his joint. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but with the past few weeks I’ve had, I’m goanna need a lot more than some weed to recover from all this stress,” I take another hit and lay my head back in the soft chair, finally feeling my muscles relax as the golden light flows through every nerve of my body. I turn my head and open my heavy eyes to look up at Evan.

“Wow that is bad,” he says, staring at something in the distance. I take this moment to truly admire the man beside me. The purple lights cascade onto his sharp features, violet pin pricks reflect in his coffee-colored eyes. The wind blows his loose brown curls around on his forehead as a rough hand holds the paper filter up to his pink lips. The end of the cone glows crimson as his chest rises, taking in a hit of hot smoke. Evan looks down at me to finish his thought. Had I been sober, I would have quickly looked away. But right now, nothing could tear my eyes from this perfect image in front of me. Evans’ eyes lock into mine as he releases the smoke slowly out through his mouth and nose. “Y/n, I-“ he begins, but before he can finish, I sit up and pull his face into mine. Gently kissing him, the smell of smoke mixed with his cologne is intoxicating all on its own. He tenses for a moment, processing what had just happened, before putting his hand on my back to bring me closer.

“I’m sorry,” I pull away suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so forward. Evan looks at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks for a second before furrowing his brow,

“Are you kidding me,” ashes fall from his joint onto his pants, reminding him of its presence. He takes small drag before finishing. “That’s all I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you.” I smile at his confession. He holds the joint to my lips offering me a hit. We hold eye contact as I pull the smoke into my mouth, then to my lungs. “You’re beyond beautiful y/n,” he compliments. I lean into kiss him, shot gunning the smoke to him. He kisses hard and inhales the smoke as if it’s his last breath. He sits the joint in the ash tray then puts his hand on the back of my head, gently but firmly, so I don’t pull away this time, Evan exhales the smoke though his nose, so he doesn’t have to break the kiss. I clumsily crawl into his lap to straddle him, and his hands instinctively grab my ass. The heat from his hands warming me through the thin fabric of my leggings. I feel hungry, starving for more and more of him. As my knees sink into the soft chair around him, I begin to grind my hips against his.

“Evan,” I breath out, begging to feel more of his skin on mine. He looks at me with lust filled eyes and kiss bruised lips as I begin to lift his shirt up. He grabs my hand gently.

“Let’s go inside, darling,” he whispers. “You never know if one of those creeps are near by.” He looks around, checking for paparazzi. I was puzzled for a second, before remembering Evans’ status. I nod and climb off him. He stands, his dark jeans tented at the crotch and his white t-shirt rising and falling quickly on his chest. He grabs my hand to guide me inside.

“Can’t forget this,” I grin, stopping to grab a fresh blunt and the zippo. He chuckles as I spark the cone. He pulls me into his lounge, locking the door and closing the blinds. After I had a few hits, I hand the joint to Evan as I sit down on the leather couch.

“We don’t have to do anything more than this if you don’t want y/n,” he almost whispers through the smoke, sitting down next to me. I look into his desperate eyes as he hands me the warm paper.

“Please,” I inhale. “Please Evan I need you,” I beg the stoned man in front of me. With that, in one swift move, he takes the cone from my hand, putting it on the side table ash tray, removes his shirt and smashes his lips to mine, laying me down on the sofa. His kisses trail from my lips to my ear. Grabbing my throat gently he whispers. “You have no idea how desperate I am for you,” all I can do is moan in response my brain too high off THC and lust to form a coherent thought. His kisses continue trailing down my neck as his fingers work with the buttons on my black flannel. He smiles like a child when he sees that I have nothing underneath the warm button up. His mouth quickly drops to one breast swirling his warm tongue around as his hand massages my other breast, sending me into a fit of pleasure. After giving the same treatment to the other side, he rips off my leggings. He grabs the waistband of my thong. “May I?” he asks with heavy bloodshot eyes.

“Please,” I nod. He wastes no time removing the flimsy fabric and spreading my already trembling legs. He dips a long finger into my heat, groaning at how slick I already am.

“All this, just for me?” He licks the fluid off his finger, just to dip it back inside of me and out once more. “Have a taste baby,” he reaches his finger up and I close my mouth around it, licking seductively, making sure to keep eye contact.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. “Good girl,” he praises with a kiss on my nose. He quickly dips his head back down, licking from my entrance up to my clit, sucking and licking with expertise, earning a loud moan and a string of profanities from me. I quickly feel my orgasm building in my stomach, but its not enough.

“Evan, I need you to fuck me, please,” I whimper. He pulls his head up, his mouth and chin shimmering. I definitely didn’t need to ask twice. He jumps up dropping his pants and boxers allowing his perfect cock to spring free, giving himself a few good pumps. I shiver at the sight. Evan dips his head down to my core one last time, giving me a kiss then allowing a trail of warm spit to drip down and trickle to my entrance. The sight is enough to make me melt into this sticky leather couch. Evan lines his length up with me, pulling my hips up and guiding me onto his dick. Slowly filling me, stopping halfway in allowing me to adjust, but I don’t want it. I buck my hips forward, making him bottom out immediately. A string of curses leaves both our lips as he pokes at my stomach from the inside. He begins thrusting quickly, taking the hint that I’m not  wanting to make love tonight. Evans’ toned body begins to shimmer with sweat as he brings a strong hand to my throat squeezing the sides, making me just lightheaded enough to intensify the pleasure. He looks down at me, biting his lip, as he watches my face contort in pleasure from what he’s doing to me. The louder I moan, the harder he pounds into me. My breathing starts to hitch with each thrust as I clench around him.

“Evan I’m going to-” before I can finish my sentence, he pulls out completely, making me groan from the sudden empty feeling. I curse and open my mouth to question him.

“Turn over,” he demands as he stands up. I obey and begin to shift on the couch. “hands and knees.” He specifies, slapping me hard on the ass, I cant help but giggle as the sting lingers on my sweaty skin. I prop myself up on my forearms on the arm of the couch and spread my legs, wiggling my ass a bit as wait for Evan to fill me back up.

“Your body is so perfect,” he says as grabs and kisses my ass before I feel him line himself up again, quickly thrusting in to satisfying the ache in the empty space he left behind in my stomach. Once he finds his rhythm, I feel his hand snake around my throat and the other around my torso as he pulls me flush against him. My shoulders press against his as I arch my back. In this new potion, he hits my g spot perfectly.

“Shit Evan! Yes please,” I pant. “just like this. Please fuck me just like this! Don’t stop,” I plead as I squeeze his strong arms that are wrapped around me. Even groans lowly at the praise.

“I need you to cum y/n,” he whispers in my ear, reaching down to rub circles on my clit. “Can you do that for me, gorgeous?” All I can do is moan and nod my head ‘yes’. His thrust propels me towards my orgasm as I scream out profanities. “That’s it, good girl,” his hot breath moans into my ear laced with the smell of stale smoke. I curl my toes and grip his forearms with all my force, leaving nail marks as my whole body tenses, then releases in pleasure.

“Evan I’m cumming!” My screams and the sound of our skin slapping together fill the room. “Fuck you make me feel so good,” I whimper as he begins to slow down his thrusts, allowing me to ride out my high.

“Good job baby,” he pulls out, pumping himself. “now get on your knees. Open your mouth.” I quickly obliged. I drop down and look up at him. The sight of his heaving, glistening chest and his brown curls sticking to his red sweaty face is enough to make me orgasm all over again. He reaches his veiny arm down and pulls my hair into a ponytail and. I happily open my mouth for him as he gently taps his rock hard tip on my lips, I moan quietly as he begins to slowly thrust in my face. I take it upon myself to press his dick as far as I can down my throat, gagging as my nose touches his abdomen.

“Holy fucking shit baby,” he pants out, now fucking my face. It doesn’t take long before he’s twitching in my deep in my throat and the salty pre cum drips into my mouth. “That’s it baby, fuck,” he swears as he grips my hair so hard I can feel a few strands snapping. It takes all of my strength to pull my head a away.

“Cum on my face, please Evan,” I gasp for breath, looking up at him with tears running from my pink eyes, as thick strands of spit string from my lips to his perfect dick. With a few pumps, and his death grip still on my hair, I open my mouth and hum in satisfaction as he releases his strings of hot liquid all over my face. He groans and curses, finally releasing my hair.

“Fuck y/n,” he sighs, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created on my face. He brings his thumb to my mouth scooping up some of his cum and bring it to my lips. I smile around his thumb, lapping up all the liquid. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he looks at me with such strong admiration in his eyes, I can’t help but blush as I lay my head into the hand he puts on my cheek. “Lets get you into the shower,” he begins guides me to the bathroom but I stop him.

“Don’t you want a cigarette first” I offer, grabbing the menthols from my flannel pocket. He grins. “Well, I’m not going to ever turn down a cigarette after sex that good,” he looks at the state of my face again. “But let me at least wipe off your face first. It’s the least I could do.” I giggle as he walks over to get a wet rag. This is absolutely worth risking my job for.

#evan peters #i hope someone catches the cody and noel reference #ahs fandom #evan peters smut #american horror story #jimmy darling #evan peters x reader #james patrick march #kyle spencer #ahs cult #kit walker #jimmy darling smut #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling imagines #tate langdon #ahs hotel #kit walker x reader #kit walker imagine #kit walker smut #kai anderson #kia Anderson smut #kyle spencer smut

[showtoonzfan]

Also yeah this new Hazbin cast is not it man. I’m sorry. Most of them either sound flat, don’t fit with the character design, or are just not as good as the original. Angel and Alastor I especially don’t like, Alastor sounds so nasally and Amari just can’t top Bosco’s performance, with Bosco not only was he good but when Alastor was threatening, he SOUNDED threatening. I may have made fun of Al’s design, but Bosco’s voice is what made the character interesting and threatening for me. With Amari’s voice he just sounds beyond silly and I can’t take him seriously.

Blake Roman is literally just intimidating Kovach, except this time Angel just sounds forced and awkward. It makes you wonder why Viv just didn’t get Kovach back since it’s obvious she wanted to find someone so similar to him, and then you realize…oh yeah, Kovach wasn’t on Broadway or is a big singer. Micheal was really good at what he did as Angel too as everyone has already said so Viv fumbled the bag SO hard with these two it’s sad. I’m especially pissed about Alastor cause Bosco was the reason he was my favorite character and now he sounds so cringe.

Husk and Vox are played by two very talented actors/singers but their voices just don’t fit with the character design, though I’m not that against Christain Borle as Vox, the voice doesn’t fit the twink design but at the very least they got a man who sounds like a full grown adult playing a full grown adult lmao. Husk is a different story however, because it feels like Keith was picked to play him just because he was famous and nothing else. Back in the pilot, Viv had a specific voice in mind for Husk and she found it, aka Mick. He perfectly came off as an old washed up grumpy alcoholic, and Keith’s voice kinda just…erases all that personality. Sure Keith’s voice sounds cool but that’s it, it’s style over substance.

I wish I could say more about Charlie and Vaggie but I’m not sure what to say other then they kinda sound forced and awkward too, and I hate saying that cause they’re also played by two very talented actresses. Stephanie B played Mirabel from Encanto, she’s had voice acting experience before so I hope she ends up sounding good in the actual show. Erika meanwhile…I hate to say this but other than her singing voice there’s nothing really special about her as Charlie compared to Jill Harris, though even with Jill I never felt any strong feelings towards her performance.

Adam meanwhile, dear GOD I was right about him looking bad in animation form, his design sucks so fucking much. Fans were right, that’s Alex Brightman’s voice, he seems to be using his normal voice but just a tad deeper. He’s the only one who’s a fine choice, though I really wish we got to hear him as Pentious here!

But yeah in terms of the voice cast I’m just disappointed man, really disappointed. It makes you really realize how talented the pilot cast was. They were so good cause they were all chosen for a reason that wasn’t just “they’re famous” and it fucking sucks how bad Viv fumbled everything.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin hotel #hazbin critical #hazbin criticism

[tigertales9]

Trouble When You Walked In

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: Things get a little heated when you get home from the Taylor Swift concert

Time/Place: July 1, 2023 - Cincinnati, Ohio

A/N: Another porny nugget! Hope y'all enjoy!

Title & song lyrics are from "I Knew You Were Trouble" by Taylor Swift

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You step out of your friend's car, singing along with the girls for a second before turning to walk toward your house, blowing kisses and waving as they drive off down the street.

You're halfway up the stairs leading to your front door when the door swings open; you smile as you continue singing … "I knew you were trouble when you walked in, so shame on me n-ow."

You go quiet as you walk through the door, the hair on the back of your neck standing up when you realize it's pitch black in the house.

"J…Joe?" you sputter, creeping far enough into the hallway to flick the light on. The door slams shut behind you and you let out a bloodcurdling scream, spinning around and throwing your purse as hard as you can at the ominous figure lurking in the shadows. Joe easily catches your purse in one big hand as he steps forward, the shit-eating grin on his face making you see red.

"Joseph Lee! You scared the shit out of me!" you holler, swatting his arm as he chuckles at your reaction.

"Payback's a bitch, baby girl," he gloats, setting your purse on the hallway table before pulling you into a hug.

"Payback for what?" you grumble.

"For the scare you gave me last week." He leans down and nips your earlobe before continuing. "Don't dish it out if you can't take it."

You bite your lip and hold your tongue, trying not to giggle as you remember his dramatic reaction to your jump scare; y'all had watched a show about creepy cryptids featuring Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bigfoot, etc. Later that night you hid behind the bedroom door and jumped out at him.

"I did get you good," you smirk, giggling when he narrows his eyes at you.

"I didn't scream nearly as loud as you just did," he counters.

"But you did scream," you chuckle, laughing even harder when he swats your ass. "Okay, let's call a truce," you mutter. "No more jump scares."

"Deal," he agrees, giving you a wink and a smile. You study his face in the soft downlighting, admiring the way his long eyelashes cast frilly shadows on his high cheekbones. "What are you thinking?" he asks.

That I wanna fuck you right here, you muse to yourself, licking your lips before actually responding. "I'm thinking I need a shower. I'm sweaty and gross."

He gently pulls your shirt off and drops it on the floor before leaning down to nip the skin just above your left collarbone, sucking it hard enough to leave a mark before slowly trailing his tongue up your neck. "Sweaty and delicious," he whispers in your ear, smiling as a very obvious shiver runs through you.

"I really need a shower," you protest weakly as he unclasps your bra and slides it off. "Let me get you dirty first," he purrs, stripping your shorts and sandals off before backing you up against the door. All thoughts of protesting disappear when he captures your lips, sucking your full bottom lip before sweeping his tongue inside, his agile fingers teasing your nipples as you moan into his mouth.

He eventually replaces his fingers with his tongue, licking and sucking your hardened peaks for several minutes while you tangle a hand in his messy curls, biting your lip in anticipation when he finally slides your panties off.

He stands up to his full height and gazes down at you, giving you a slow up-and-down look that causes a gush of wetness between your thighs. There's something erotic about being completely naked while he's still fully dressed, the cool door against your back a stark contrast to the heat radiating off of him.

Your pulse jumps as he slides a muscular thigh between your legs. "Are you wet for me?" he asks, hiking the leg of his slinky shorts up before lifting his thigh just enough to graze your core. "Yeah," you whisper, gasping when he nestles his thigh firmly against you. You rise up onto your tiptoes as he lifts his leg higher, grabbing his shoulders when he finally lifts you all the way off the ground, both of you groaning at the feel of your slick heat against his bare skin.

"So hot and wet," he mutters, grabbing your ass to slide you farther up his thigh before bracing himself against the door; he latches his lips onto your neck as you rock against him, riding his thigh as his quad muscles flex with each roll of your hips. "Does it feel good, baby?" he asks, smiling against your neck when you scratch your fingernails up the long length of his back, your soft moans turning into whimpers as he reaches a hand down to tease your clit. "Don't stop," you whisper, gasping when he pinches your clit. "Harder!" you order, grinding down against him as he does your bidding, pinching and rolling the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger with just the right amount of pressure to set you off. You dig your fingers into his back and bite his shoulder as your climax hits, the sound of his dirty praise mingling with your whimpers as you ride out the intense orgasm.

After a couple of minutes of heavy breathing, he lowers you back onto your feet. "Clean up on aisle 9," you pant, swaying against him for a second before leaning back against the door. He runs two fingers through your glistening essence on his thigh before bringing his hand to his mouth, loudly sucking his fingers while giving you a loaded look. "I need to be inside you," he growls. "Right now."

"Yes, sir," you whisper, lightheaded with anticipation as he leads you to the hallway table and bends you over, stepping behind you while shoving his shorts and undies to mid-thigh; you arch your back as he slides the tip of his erection through your drenched folds. "Please," you beg, your breath catching in your throat as he dips the tip just inside, retreating a bit as you grind back against him. "You want it?" he teases, feeding you a couple more inches as you scratch your nails against the marble tabletop. "Please," you repeat, letting out a guttural groan when he gives you what you want, your core clenching hard around him at the sudden intrusion.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust before starting to move; you grab the edge of the table and grind back against him, gasping at the hot, slick friction created by the thrust and drag of his hard length stretching you open.

"Feel so good, baby," he groans, rolling his hips forward in smooth, deep strokes while you whimper against the cool marble, moaning when he reaches a hand down to play with your super-sensitive clit. "Can you cum for me again?" he grits out, his hips stuttering a bit as he continues to ride you hard while teasing your clit. "Yes, sir," you breathe, arching up into his thrusts, fully on your tiptoes as you fuck back against him, both of you gasping as your climax hits; you let out a semi-scream against the table, the resulting echo lingering in the hallway as Joe follows you over the edge, hissing in pleasure as your core milks him dry.

Several minutes later you feel Joe ease out of you; he pulls his shorts and undies up before picking you up bridal style. "Let's go get that shower," he murmurs, dropping a kiss on your forehead as he strides toward the stairs. "Oh yeah, how was the concert?" he asks as he climbs the stairs.

"What concert?" you pant, both of you laughing as he walks toward the master bathroom.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

[morbid-zombii]

↻ ^. "you can be the boss" [j.d/fem!user]

summary:: you meet j.d. at 7/11, and he gives you a cigarette with his number on it.

word count:: 3696

notes::

↻ ^. not spell checked

↻ ^. i think this gets cringe at some points (specially cuz i use y/n once) but HEY. shut up ok idc

After sleepless nights and a strict diet of coffee and other caffinated drinks to help you study for your midterms that seemed to be approaching quicker than you'd expected, you needed a break. A cigarette break, to be more specific.

Now under any normal circumstance, you'd just light a cigarette in your room, cracking open the window and letting the smoke drift out into the air. But, your parents had caught you smoking again. For the third time. They'd tried to lecture you time and time again, but it never worked. You always found a way to get your hands on a pack, one way or another.

If your parents walked into your room and smelled the lingering scent of the smoke in your room, they'd surely kill you this time. So, in order to not get caught for a fourth time, you take the short walk to 7/11 under the guise that you were off to get a slushie. That's how you find yourself standing behind the building where there would be no cameras, against the cool brick wall of the structure, fumbling around in your pockets for the pack you'd stolen from your moms purse.

Sure, she had tried to warn you against smoking like she did, but keeping cigarettes in the house where your kid can easily get to them wasn't too wise of a decision, was it? It's like they say, the apple never falls too far from the tree.

You finally pull them out, and open the pack. Damn, the last one in the pack. Whatever, you take it anyway. You reach back into your pocket and pull out your lighter, using your thumb to drag the metal wheel down, pressing the red ignition button.

With a flick and a spark, the gas inside ignites and allows a small, controlled flame to immerge and dance in the palm of your hand, casting a warm glow on a small portion of your skin.

You tremble slightly as you hold your cigarette in your other hand and bring it to the lighter, eager to taste the nicotine on your lips and the rush you get from inhaling the smoke.

Fuck, this exactly what you need, and—

Shit.

You dropped it.

Normally, you wouldn't care, picking it up and smoking it anyway. But it just so happened to fall in a puddle of murky water on the concrete.

"Fucking idiot," You curse under your breath, scolding yourself for your incompitence.

You huff frustratedly, about to head i side and grab a slushie to make it look like you didn't just go to 7/11 specifically for a smoke, when an unfamiliar voice catches your attention.

"You look like you need a new one, am I wrong?" The voice asks you.

You turn your head, and upon examinatiom, the voice is a 5'9" boy wearing a charismatic grin on his expression. He looks about seventeen-ish, brown hair that looks to be ruffled from the wind, and sharp blue eyes. And in his hand? A new cigarette that he holds out for you to take.

You'd always seen this kid at the 7/11 near your house. Though you'd never spoken to him directly, it seemed that any time you'd gone he never failed to make an appearance. And you couldn't tell if it was your paranoia, or the fact it was always late at night when you'd go, but you always felt his eyes on you. Stealing glances at you whenever he could, but always turning away when you'd look back. It was unnerving, to say the least.

The wind blows against you which causes a you to shiver, only just now realize how cold it is outside. You really should have brought a jacket.

You offer him a smile, taking the cigarette from his hands and into your own. "Not wrong at all." You say. "In fact, you're a lifesaver." You light the new one succsessfully after correcting him.

He does the same, taking another from his pack and lighting it in return, then he brings it to his lips and takes a long drag, letting the smoke pool out from his lips and into the night air after a short moment.

"I always see you around here." You start, sparing him a glance. "Do you come here a lot?"

He nods after a moment. "The slushies here are to die for." He states rather matter of factly.

"Really?" You question, your tone skeptical, obviously you doubt him. "You'd kill yourself for a slushie? We're at a 7/11, they can't be that good."

He raises an eyebrow, pulling out his wallet and waving it at you. "Wanna bet?" He offers, throwing a quick glance behind him, in the general direction of the front of the store.

A free slushie would be nice, but you just met this kid. Officially, at least. You'd feel bad if he spent his money on you.

"I'm alright, I have my own money." You turn down his offer politely, patting your pocket where you have a ten dollar bill crumpled up in.

"Your choice, I guess." He shrugs casually. "I don't know anyone who would turn down a free slushie." He informs you, placing his wallet back inside of his pocket.

"Well, you do now." You point out, tilting your head slightly. "I never did get your name, by the way."

He nods, inhaling another drag from his cigarette and answering after a beat. "My apologies. The name's Jason Dean," He introduces, smoke falling from his lips as he extends his hand.

"Though, I don't doubt you've already heard of that name before." He mentions casually.

"Alright, J.D." You reply, tagging on your own nickname as you take his hand and shake it. His hands are slim and pale, like the rest of his figure, as well as chilled from the cool night. "And no, as a matter of fact, I haven't."

"Son of Bud Dean, the owner of Bud Dean Construction." He explains shortly, seeming to be slightly surprised you don't know.

"Though it's more demolition than construction, seeing as they mostly blow up buildings." He adds jokingly, a small grin on his expression.

You laugh lightly at his joke, crossing your arms over your chest. "Yeah, the name sounds familiar now that you mention it." You say, nodding your head along with his words.

"Hey, I really should get going but, uh– Call me, yeah?" He suggests, wearing a charismatic grin on his expression.

"Will do," You agree, mindlessly nodding your head before you realize that you lack one crucial detail.

You don't have his number.

"Oh, but I don't have your—" You turn your head back to him, but he's already vanished before you can get another sentence in.

Huh. Weird interaction. You look down at your hand which is still holding the cigarette. You realize you had barely smoked it as you spin it around in your finger completely distracted by his interactio— Wait, what's that?

You notice writing on the cigarette, and bring it closer to your face to read. Thanks to the small lightbulb attatched to the wall above the back door of the building, it illuminates the area enough that you can just barely make out the writing.

Or, more like chicken scratch. This kids handwriting sucks. But it's not entirely illegible, you can make out a series of numbers seperated by dashes in between.

You grin. It's his phone number.

---

After you return home, you slip the now empty pack of cigarettes into your moms purse, and as you walk by you take a sip of your slushie.

Your eyebrows quirk up slightly as the taste hits your tongue. You'd planned on throwing it away at first, you don't really eat sugary things afterall. But he's right, the slushies are to die for.

You walk to your room, and it's oddly quiet as you do so. Had your parents gone out? Whatever, works more in your favor anyway, now you can call J.D.

You pick up your red rotary phone that sits on your nightstand, spinning the dial and reading (Though it feels more like you're decoding.) the digits written on the cigarette and inputing them accordingly.

Finally the phone begins to ring, and you count each one impatiently.

Ring.

One.

Ring.

That's two.

Ring.

A third. Is he asleep? You wouldn't blame him if he was, it is late afterall—

"Greetings and salutations," A voice speaks over the phone. His voice.

"Hey J.D., it's me." You pause, before realizing you should probably clarify. "The girl from the 7/11. I don't know if you remember—"

"[Y/N], of course I remember you." He responds, cutting you off before you can get your full sentence out.

You pinch your eyebrows together slightly. Your name. He used your name, how did he know that? You hadn't given it to him, had you?

"Uh, yeah.. How did you know my name?" You question slowly.

"Really? I'm offended." His voice speaks through the phone and you can tell he's being sarcastic. "We go to Westerberg, we're in the same Biology class together."

Oh. A small wave of relief washes over you; part of you believed you had a stalker for a moment. You really need to work on not jumping to the worst circumstances.

"You mean Mrs. Wilmington? How come I never noticed you before? Jeez, I'm sorry, I feel like such an asshole now." You laugh awkwardly.

"Ah, don't be." He dismisses you. "I'm not surprised, honestly. I'm usually sat in the back, I don't have much to offer when it comes to conversation, anyway."

"Nobody does; Wilmington's a—"

"A kook? Yeah, everyone says that about her." He cuts you off. Again. Taking the words from your throat before you can speak them aloud.

Can this guy go one second without interupting? In biology, he does anything but talk. But over the phone? He'll do anything but let you finish a sentence.

"Y'know what I like about you?" You question him.

"Hmm?" He hums in response, waiting for you to continue.

"How you let me finish my sentences." You tell him sarcastically, a smile forming on your face.

You assume he can hear the smile in your voice, because you can hear his as well.

"Well, you're welcome." He responds jokingly.

You bite your lip, finding yourself twirling the phone cord between your fingers. The phone call goes silent, and you speak again after a beat.

"Do you wanna come over? My parents went out." You ask him on a whim.

----

"I see you finished your slushie." J.D points out, looking over to the empty plastic cup that sits on your nightstand beside your bed.

You grin, folding your arms over your chest. "As much as I hate to admit when I'm wrong; those slushies are good." You admit, tilting your head to the left, your eyes following him carefully as he looks around your room.

"Told you so." He starts. "And– Just good?" He raises an eyebrow, judging you. "I, personally believe they're a grace from God." He grins and you take it that he's joking.

You give him a look and he laughs in a dismissive manner. A grace from God, he says. Seriously? Does this guy, like, worship slushies existance? Pray at his altar of slush?

"Been studying for mid-terms?" He questions as he walks over to your desk, obviously referring to the fact that it looks like a tornado passed through the surface area of it. Stray papers with notes rushedly scrawled on and various textbooks lay sprawled in a disorganized fashion on the tabletop, and the trashcan beside the leg of the desk is borderline overflowing with crumpled papers and empty energy drink cans.

"Yeah, been pretty stressed out about it." You exhale a laugh. "What about you? Have you been studying?" You ask him, though if we're being honest it doesn't seem like he's touched a textbook in his entire life.

"I'm not really what you would call the 'study type.'" He mentions, dropping his shoulders in a shrug and sitting down on your desks chair. "I usually take to grabbing a slushie and hoping for the best."

Yeah, you figured. "I thought as much," You mention casually.

He gives you a look. "Well, I might not be the best studier, but I'm a great stress-reliever." His tone grows suggestive and a cocky grin pulls at the corners of his lips.

You let out a sudden laugh, though it comes out sounding like more of a snort. Really? Thats all this kid could come up with? (me callinf myself out here incase you couldnt tell)

Regarding him skeptically, you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly. "That's the corniest thing I've ever heard anyone say." You state with a teasing smirk on your face. Sure, it might be corny, but if you're being honest? It's kind of working on you.

"It's true, I'm basically like a cure for stress."

"Says who?" You ask curiously, quirking an eyebrow up as you wait for him to respond.

You hear the laugh that he's trying to hold back on the edge of his voice. "Says.. all the women I've been with. Obviously." He rolls his eyes with mock-dramaticness and they sparkle in the lighting of your room. His cheeks are tinged with traces of pink.

"I don't believe you." You respond bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest as you speak.

"Want me to prove it?" He questions, never once breaking his eyes away from yours. His tone suddenly loses traces of its previous humor and the room fills with tension.

The room falls under a heated silence as you ponder your next words. You just met this kid, it'd probably be a bad idea to sleep with him so soon.

But, you feel a sly grin creep on your face as you ponder the other option here, and butterflies flutter in your stomach at the thought of him and you hooking up.

Whatever, fuck it.

"Prove it," You answer finally, subconciously biting your lip. The tone of your response almost makes it sound like you're daring him.

He grins lightly, rises from your desk chair which he was previously sitting on and begins to make his way over to you. "Well, I'm not one to turn down a challenge." He says cockily.

After a moment he stands in front of you. But not for long though, because in a second he's on his knees, his gaze is full of admiration as he looks up at you. You begin to feel a heat begin to pool somewhere within you as hs dextertous hands make quick work of your bottoms, and he slowly pulls them down and tosses out of the way.

He places his hands on your thighs, parting your legs before hooking one of them around his shoulder to make from for himself between you. He slowly works his lips on your inner thigh, planting countless kisses along your soft skin and working his way up.

Your breath hitches at the sudden tantalizing contact of his lips kissing and nipping at your skin, and you feel him grin against you as he hears the sound leave your mouth; the heated feeling within only growing more as each slow second ticks by.

Then he looks up at you questioningly, as if waiting for you to stop him. Giving you an opportunity to interject and back out. You don't, instead you nod your head. And when you do, he smiles and pulls the fabric of your panties aside.

And within seconds, he dips his head between your thighs and his tounge is on your skin, running along your folds and eventually meeting your clit. You gasp lightly at the unfamiliar feeling of his tounge making contact with your nerves as he begins to work in slow cirlces on your slick wetness.

"Every part of you tastes amazing, darling." He whispers against your skin and the vibrations from his voice send a wave of shivers down your spine that shoot straight to your already throbbing clit; eliciting a low moan to escape you. You can feel him grin, and you don't need to look at his expression to know that he's thinking"told you so".

He continues to drag his tounge along your skin, and soon you find yourself gently bucking your hips up into him, the slow pace he's currently at isn't enough and you realize you're wanting more. Needing more, actually. But it seems like he's realized this fact before you, because he places his hand firmly on your hips. Not enough to hurt you, but just enough to be able to pin you down enough so that you don't move.

You reach your hand down to fist his surprsingly soft hair, your other gripping the bedsheets tightly as if your entire life depended on it. You feel yourself reaching your climax quicker than expected due to his expert tounge on your clit.

"J.D," You moan his name breathlessly, you're about to tell him that you're going to come, but the sensations that he's causing you to feel are entirely too overwhelming and the words get lost on your tounge before you can get them out. Your vision is foggy and you swear you're seeing stars, while your mind is plagued with thoughts of just him.

And just as you're about to come..

He pulls away.

Fucking tease.

You bite your lip frustratedly. "Getting desperate already, I see?" He patronizes you with his sickeningly sweet voice that only turns you on even more.

You breathe heavily, looking down at him with a quick nod. "Come on," You plead with him, once again dragging your hips up once you realize his grip loosened around you.

He only laughs, an impish grin on his face. He enjoys watching you suffer, apparently. Bringing his face closer to yours he kisses the corner of your mouth. "Hm?" He hums, feigning innocence.

You roll your eyes.

"I fail to understand what you want, exactl–"

Interrupting by pulling away from him, you grab his chin and turn his face to make him look at you. His grin wavers momentarily as you catch him off guard and you then offer him a sharp glare. "You're so arrogant. Just shut up and fuck me already, JD." You order him sternly.

He blinks, processing your words that appear to have the same effect on him as a drug, and once he has, the grin on his face reforms just as quickly as it faded. Now it's his turn to undress himself. He rises from his knees and pops the button to his pants, pulling a condom out from his pocket before sliding the material of his jeans down along with his boxers.

You inhale quietly, watching as he rolls the condom on and taking in the length of his dick. Truth be told, you didn't really expect that much from him. And apparently, he can tell, because he lets out a laugh.

"You should see your face right now." He points out, a smug look on his.

You roll your eyes yet again. "Just get over here." You tell him, and he does just that.

He adjusts himself on top of you, kissing the bridge of your nose as he lines himself up with your enterance and slides his cock into you, letting out a quiet moan of satisfaction when he enters.

Again, you gasp, tilting your head back slightly at the feeling of your inner walls expanding to make room for him, only to clench around his length as he moves slowly in and out of you. The feeling of him inside you only sends shockwaves that make you shiver throughout your entire body.

He lowers his head as you tip yours back, his teeth grazing your skin as he places kisses along your exposed neck, and you can feel him leaving hickeys that will surely be visible for a few days, at the least.

You arch yourself slightly in a desperate attempt to take more of him. To feel more of him inside you. His hands dip down beneath the soft fabric of your shirt. His dextertous fingertips trace the curve of your body, up to your waist and back down again until eventually they find home around your hips.

He grips them firmly, again, not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you in place as his thrusts begin to increase in pace. Your eyes flutter at the feeling of his cock continously rubbing against your inner walls and you wrap your arms around his back, bringing him closer to you.

Once he's close enough, you take his bottom lip in yours, offering a lust-filled kiss which he doesn't turn down. In fact, he doesn't waste time nor hesitate to kiss you back; instead it only seems to get him more worked up over you as his once slow and taunting pace only gets faster, more desperate, which elicits a moan to fall past your lips and into his.

Once again, you begin to feel that same building feeling within you, and you call out his name in the form of a desperate moan once more; though this time it's muffled by the two of your intertwined lips.

Your vision goes hazy and your body begins to shake as you finally reach your long awaited climax. JD's thrusts slowly begin to cease as he coaxes you through your orgasm, and once your convulsions stop and your vision comes to, he turns over and lays by your side in your bed.

The room is silent for the most part, the only thing able to be heard is the sound of your heavy breathing and hearts pounding in your chest. Until finally, JD speaks up.

"Still feeling stressed at all?" He questions playfully, raising an eyebrow.

"No, JD." You admit, rolling your eyes though letting a smile work its way onto your face at his playful tone of voice.

He rolls over to face you, planting a kiss on your cheek. "Told you so. I'm a great stress reliever."

#heathers #heathers 1989 #jason dean #heathers musical #jd heathers #jd x reader #jason dean x reader

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕟𝕠𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕗𝕖

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴏʀᴅᴇʀʟɪɴᴇ ꜰᴜʀʀʏ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ-ɪꜱʜ ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ ꜱᴇx, ɢʀᴏᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜɪ!!!

⋆ ★ ᴛᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴡᴀʏʏʏʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴅ. ɴᴏ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀɴ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴏ 🥵🥵🥵 ɪ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʟɪᴋᴇ 5 ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇꜱ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇʟʏ ᴇᴍʙᴀʀʀᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʏᴘᴏꜱ ʟᴍᴀᴏ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴀᴠᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

He's rocking his hips in tandem with yours at the pace of a fucking rabbit. 

It literally took only about ten minutes when he returned to you from a long deployment to get you back in bed again, his body unable to stop itself from thrusting his tight codpiece into your core, looking composed yet utterly desperate for you. And now he’s had you like this, underneath him with your chest pressed to the mattress, squirming and gasping for almost thirty minutes now. He’s only just finally slipped his cock in.

How he's kept his stamina this high up for so long, getting you to come on his mouth and fingers and not even trying to take some pleasure for himself before finally splitting you open with his cock is difficult to figure out.

There's no space to think about that now, though. Not when a new sound has ruptured out of him.

At first, you don't even notice. You're too busy enraptured in your own release and just how damn good he feels inside of you. But then you feel the aftershocks, the vibrations of his voice as he slows his pace down for just a split second. You lift your chin up, tilting it to the side ever so slightly, with the smallest tinge of confusion on your face.

Did Wolffe just... growl?

Not even a typical kind of noise one might make when wrapped up in mind-numbing pleasure. It’s a type of noise that came from his pure, unadulterated, animal instincts.

Shit. Fuck. Why was that so hot?

“Wolffe?” You call out softly. There’s a large pause in the air, something thick. He lifts his body off of you, letting the cool air flow against your back. You sigh again and rest the side of your head on the mattress. 

“Hey…” You whine.

Wolffe doesn't respond; he graces you only with a dark grunt and pulls his hips back, pushing his body against your ass again with a hard thrust.

You can’t help but mewl in a meek voice, involuntarily clenching around him, but you don’t just forget immediately. He's still not kriffing responding to you. Not even a simple acknowledgment. Just expects to get right back to it as if he hadn’t just let out the most sinful noise fall from his mouth. Even worse is that you’re absolutely deadset on hearing it again. You can’t just continue like it was nothing.

So you decide to pull out the big guns.

“C'mon, I liked it,” You say with a vexatious, teasing tone, ending it with a borderline pornographic moan. To further effect, you pull your hips away, pushing yourself back onto his cock with a soft hum and resting your chin atop your shoulder. His eyes are cast onto yours without any intention of straying away, and his fingers curl rougher into your skin. He raises an eyebrow. You smirk victoriously and tilt your head with sweet, imploring eyes.

“Can you do it again for me?” The ask can’t be that big… can it?

He only grumbles, eyes finally looking away, and he moves to place his body back on top of yours. Like he’d never stopped, he rocks you again; a steady collision of each of your bodies with each other. You moan pleasantly, fingers curling into the mattress, but feel the difference in how he moves. His hands melodically, yet sporadically squeeze your hips, and you don’t even realize that his hand has moved and is slowly rubbing tight circles on your clit until the shiver runs through you.

“What do you want me to do for you?” He then asks, low and husked, against your ear.

The only thing that comes out of you is a whine because Wolffe blatantly decides to press onto your clit and thrust into you harder. There’s a giddy smile on his stupidly handsome face, and you know this without seeing it because of just how pronounced it is against your skin. “Gotta say it clearly, sweet doll.”

You’re just barely able to get your words out through desperate whines and soughs.

“Growl for me.”

A melodic hum is his only response, and he continues thrusting. You clench, once, twice, eyebrows furrowed. You try to sobber out his name, but it comes more jumbled; both of you can feel how absolutely wrecked you are.

Then, Wolffe finally speaks.

“Think you’re forgetting something important at the end there.”

Oh, this asshole.

“Please,” you beg anyway, because this asshole has you whipped. Then, only then, do you get what you want.

He sounds like an animal behind you, the rumble of his voice seeping into your skin like a snake, your entire body being inflicted with waves of absolute filth. Not just growls, even; he’s letting out the most deprived and primal noises leave his throat. How long has this pent up? Because there’s absolutely no way he’s just now susceptible to carnal noises from pleasure.

Either way, he sounds delighted.

You’re feeling just about the same as well.

tags: @dukeoftheblackstar @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius

#nour writes stuff #star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #the clones #wolf pack #104th battalion #commander wolffe #clone troopers #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #tcw wolffe #wolffe #clone trooper wolffe #wolffe x you #wolffe x reader #clone wars wolffe #tcw #sw tcw #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars tcw #tcw fanfiction #tcw fanfic #sw tcw fanfic #star wars clone wars #reader insert

[pinegreenapples]

Radiostatic Fic Recs

Do you like radiostatic? Are you looking for something good to read? Here are some of my personal favorites that I think everyone should read! As a reminder, if you don't like something listed, just don't read it! And don't bother the author or me! Staying in your lane is free! 😊

Finished works

Read 'Em and Weep

Vox and Alastor are on the cusp of a relationship but Alastor worries that he isn't enough for Vox. Val interferes. Now a series!

Get Your Thrill Just to Get At Me

Alastor experiences a rut for the first time and Vox refuses to waste good dick on a panic attack.

Hold Me Like A Grudge

This one's ABO and pretty much just smut. Suppressants fail all over the city! Guess we gotta fuck!

Put Your Fingers Back to the Keys

Alastor gets publicly summoned by Lilith and Vox searches for him.

Escape Was Just a Nod and a Casual Wave

This one's a really cool predator/prey fic where Vox chases Alastor.

Keep You Like an Oath

Alastor sneaks into V Tower and discovers Vox's video logs. It causes a revelation.

Lucidity's Fog

Vox has one final sex dream of him and Alastor together.

How to Commission a Radio Demon Body Pillow (and other assorted things)

This one is based off a tumblr ask thread about Vox having an insane amount of Alastor paraphernalia. It's funny, but it is one-sided.

Would You Download a Demon?

Alastor tells Vox and Rosie that he sold his soul. Vox does something so stupid, it's smart.

Classic and Better

Oooohhhhoooo, this bad boy is what made me start writing again. The characterization of them is so good and I love it so much. Alastor tempts Vox back into his folds and Vox follows blindly.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Alastor lays claim to Vox by biting him. This one is short and sweet. Now a series!

Couple's Therapy

This one was funny and sadly too short. Modern day Alastor and Vox decide to go to therapy as a joke and it actually makes them realize a thing or two.

Bambi

I love this piece. It's cute! Vox and Alastor have two different versions of Bambi-their clashing interpretations lead to an adorable misunderstanding.

Joking Matters

Vox and Alastor got married to consolidate their power and have kept their relationship a secret since.

Obligations

Vox trades for Alastor's soul but it isn't at all like how he wanted. They both cope in their own ways.

Meant to Be Yours

This one's one-sided. Vox gets rejected and takes it really badly. An excellent piece exploring his side.

Bargains

This one is also so so so good. Alastor has a rut cycle and the only person who knows is Vox. However, Alastor hates that he has a rut and takes it out on Vox. Vox just wants to know what Alastor actually wants.

Spite

This one is delicious. It's based off the first episode where Alastor says he pulled a few strings to get the commercial to air. Vox demands that he act in a porno for blackmail.

Just a Slave to Your Instincts

Vox researches deer instincts and uses it very effectively against Alastor.

That One Tuesday

Similar premise to Classic and Better but it involves more of the Hazbin cast and the main plotline of trying to redeem sinners.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Afterlife

This one is light on the relationship but funny. Basically, every rut Alastor goes fucking nuts and takes it out on Vox. However, no one believes him and they think he's going crazy.

666: Live on Air!

An excellent series that does a good job exploring the push and pull between these two and what a relationship between them would look like with all their hang ups and miscommunications.

Seeking Solace

This story plays with Dom/Sub designations and Vox is a sub who hasn't dropped in too long. He calls Alastor to help.

Radio Made the Video Star

An excellent series exploring the arc of Alastor and Vox's first meeting, their subsequent fallout, and their re-connection as they are forced to work on a project together.

Thawing Out

Vox is in an abusive relationship with Valentino. Alastor finds him one night by accident when he's mulling over his relationship. For the first time, Alastor notices that something else might be going on at Vee Tower and he has these awful feelings about it that he can't seem to shake.

The Pitch

Vox swaggers into Alastor's radio tower to find out more about his newest pet project, he ends up limping out. Wink wonk!

Hypnosis, Live in your Bedroom!

This is inspired by the 666 hypnosis fic and it is quite good! It’s another smut piece of Alastor and Vox exploring his hypnosis.

Other Place

This piece is really sentimental. It made me cry and think about death. Basically, Alastor visits Vox on the anniversary of his mother's death and they talk through his many emotions.

This Wasn't on the Agenda

One-sided but funny! Vox and Alastor start a hissy fit in an overlord meeting about their brief sexual history together.

Staticradio Woodland Fun

This one's cutesy! Vox and Alastor are both mythical creatures experiencing rut and so they spend it with each other.

Feeling from Grace

Angel Dust comes to Alastor with some concerns about Vox’s wellbeing. Alastor manages to fuck it up, as he does all things regarding Vox and feelings.

Music on T.V. and Sex on the Radio!?

This one’s funny and sexy. After their little fight on air, Vox tracks Alastor down in his tower to have some good old fashioned fun.

Stay

Alastor can’t seem to let Vox go, even when Vox decides he can’t keep playing this game anymore.

Like Old Times

Alastor pays Vox a visit in his office after their musical spat to say hello.

Deer in the Backlights

This piece is nice in the way that it explores Vox finally getting closure from his obsession with Alastor. Val and Velvette set up a meeting for Vox and Alastor to finally fuck and get rid of their weird psychosexual tension. Vox wonders if this was really what he wanted all along.

198

This one is pure smut and it’s so delightful. Vox manages to mind break Alastor and turn him into his own personal sex toy. I also highly recommend anything by childishsadism, they write very compelling work!

Undisclosed Desires

Alastor and Vox get into another fight and Alastor finds he likes it a lot more than he thought he would.

To Be Yours

This is my own work! Alastor hears Vox open their personal frequency for the first time in years. Curious, he goes to find out why exactly Vox has chosen to break the silence.

Safe with Me

This one's good! It's a modern AU where Vox is a CEO and Alastor is a serial killer and podcaster. After separating as childhood friends, Vox and Alastor meet once again and find love with one another. Now a series!

Bluest Monday

This one is so well written and the romance between them is absolutely heart wrenching. Alastor fears losing Vox to modernity, so he finally accepts Vox’s courting in an attempt to keep the other at his side. This decision has unintended consequences neither could foresee. Now a series!

Addicted

Addicted is really good. Vox finds out he's been drugged by Val for decades and as a result has long term amnesia. He runs away and tries to reckon with a past he can't even remember.

Unfinished works

Hypnotic

This one is a rape fic. Vox hypnotizes Alastor against his will and forces him to recount his first sexual encounter as he has sex with him.

Prey of the Video Star

This one is really really good! After the battle, Vox takes Alastor back to Vee tower, determined to finally make the other his. Alastor, weakened, struggles the best that he can even as the noose tightens around his neck.

Equilibrium

Vox saves Alastor and accidentally creates a soulbond between them. This sets in motion a landslide of unexpected events between them.

The Answer is Yes

Okay, this one is extremely well written. It's a fascinating exploration of Vox and Alastor's relationship through a vignette style. It blends all sorts of memories with modern day and it's really cool. I like it a lot.

Hell’s Televisionary

This one is a really interesting take on Vox and his first few years in Hell. I’m really enjoying it! Vox is new to Hell and looking to make a name for himself. He’s also looking to reconnect with the elusive redhead that helped him when he first fell.

Rival Frequencies

Vox goes after Alastor after the extermination and patches him up. He discovers that maybe his feelings haven’t waned, and he tries to rekindle a friendship with Alastor again.

Tune On In!

This one is based off of an art post where Vox and Alastor got platonically married and details their life together.

Unraveling Emotions

Falling in love makes a sinner’s heart human again and their second death permanent. Vox has never stopped loving Alastor. Alastor makes a mistake and Vox nearly pays the price.

For my friends who liked my post, I hope this finds you!

@rae-does-stuff, @drakepad-luv-2000, @motherarts, @freakshowmemories, @bratpfanne-of-doom, @superpersonpatroleclipse , @nocakesformissedith , @coins-that-never-land , @matrixbearer2024, @dancingafterdark ,@pedi-bug , @starlightthenightwing , @unnecessarilysalty

#radiostatic #staticradio #staticlovetune