#asf writes

[another-shameless-fangirl]

Demon

“They aren’t really ghosts, you know.”

“What?” Danny blinked out of his bliss staring out at the lights that floated across the park and turned his attention to the voice on his right. Each of the soft lights dotting the distance he had figured was a spirit, moving aimless and slow or following a habitual path they had carved out for themselves in life and found comfort in after death.

An old man sat on the bench near where Danny stood on the concrete path under an ancient willow. His grey hair thinned at the top and was combed over a pale bald head. His wire glasses were rectangular and too large for his thin face. Danny couldn’t tell the man’s age but spots and lines of concern felt long ago made him pretty sure the man was at least 70. Danny turned his body toward the man stiffly.

He wasn’t used to people actively talking to him. Since the accident happened and he started high school, he cut off all communication with Sam and Tucker barely acknowledging them in the hallway and letting them draw their own conclusions as to why he was avoiding everyone now. It was safer for them to think he was just a jerk instead of… whatever he was now. Half human, half ghost, it was all so confusing. Until he figured out exactly what he was, whether he really was a hybrid or not, then they would be better off without him.

The past few months had been lonely but he wasn’t sure this was the kind of company he wanted in their absence.

“They look like people but they aren’t.” The man told him certainly and Danny felt a chill go up his spine. He did not see the man there when he walked up to stand under the willow tree to observe the peaceful scene. He wasn’t sure why but he felt like an intruder. He looked out at the peaceful lights flying and walking in the distance then back to the seated man. Danny smiled politely.

“They’re not people. They’re ghosts.” He said lightly but where his conversation went, he really wasn’t sure. There was no way the man had lived in Amity Park without knowing about the ghosts that lived here too. The man shook his head, tutted, and crossed his wrinkled arms to his chest. His weathered wood cane shifted against the bench but did not fall.

“They look like that to trick people.” He said with a malice that made Danny recoil.

“That… They’re not tricking anyone. They’re just existing.” He said and the man scoffed at him.

“They look like that to make themselves more palatable for people. These things are evil.”

Danny stared at the man who glared across the scene before them. The ghosts who could only come out at night were harmless. Most of them were Echoes, ghosts that couldn’t do much more than relive a moment in their lives that proved they had existed at all. Danny had tried once to speak to one of these souls and they either didn’t see him or had ignored him completely. He wondered which it was sometimes and what the difference was between him and them. Were they ever at the same power level he was? Able to move freely and follow his own thoughts? Were they evil like the man said?

Was there enough difference between them that he could be sure he wasn’t evil too?

“How do you know they’re really evil? They’re not hurting anyone.”

“They’re biding their time. They’ll behave for now but the other ones,” The man waved a hand at the boy. “Big nasty things, bombing the streets and frightening people.”

Danny frowned and the man kept going.

“Ghosts didn’t used to be a common thing. They were special, peeks at what used to be and now you see them all the time in town. They’re so strong you can see them clearly and they’ll look right at you and cause you pain.” Danny looked at the man who just stared straight ahead. “It’s only a matter of time before these ones start lobbing bombs at people killing us all.”

A hard lump formed in Danny’s throat. “They just-“

“They’re vile.” The man scowled at Danny. “They’re evil creatures- not human anymore and pulling their power from somewhere evil to stay where they don’t belong.”

Danny frowns at the man and it’s tempting to leave. Did other people believe this?

“You don’t think they belong in the human world?”

“Not anymore.” The man uncrossed his arms. “Ghosts can’t be here on the living plane with that much power. Ghosts are what’s leftover from human souls. What these are, they’re not leftover so much as they are repurposed.”

Danny turned toward the bench completely turning his back on the park and the spirits alike. The old man looked at him for the first time and brown eyes were clouded and practically looked through the boy. It was unsettling but the man seemed earnest.

He didn’t even want to ask but he had to know.

“Repurposed into what?”

“Into demons.”

Another chill struck through Danny and something in his core swirled at the word.

Demon…

The vitriol hatred was still there but it simmered under the calm words. “They’re so far from God that their souls turn into something unholy, untouched by light.” The man said solemnly. “They cause pain and suffering to the living and lie about everything. Agents of the devil come to bring hell on earth. All while wearing the face of the dead to make us drop our guard.”

Danny stepped back but didn’t run away. “You think the ghosts in town are all… demons?”

“I know they are.” The man rasped almost sadly. “The way they look, sound, they’re trying to mask what they really are. They’ll trick you into thinking they’re just kids and then drag you into hell themselves.” The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and coughed into it. Danny watched but the man didn’t continue without prompting which he couldn’t help but do.

“How do you know?” The thoughts began to swirl in his head. “How are you sure that they’re not just ghosts with powers?”

“What do they need powers for exactly? They’re too sturdy. Too strong.” The man tucked the cloth away. Danny peeked at it and half expected to see speckles of blood like a movie but it was clean. The man straightened his posture. “Why would you make a creature strong if you didn’t plan on using it for what power is used for? The strong ones are going fight for dominance to claim this land their own for the devil. The ones that look like us are here to convince us all it’s okay.”

Danny looked out over the ghosts scattered around the park. He wanted to tell the man no and that he was wrong, but what if there was a truth in what he said?

“I- Phantom won’t let that happen.”

The man scoffed.

“Phantom is the worst of them all.”

A pit formed in his stomach so quickly he felt sick.

“He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s very existence is wrong.” The man scoffed and he began to stand up. Danny stepped backwards quickly but the man barely looked at him as he continued.

“Phantom… Ghost… It’s still an unholy creature. Damned to earth unable to pass into heaven and apparently kicked out of hell.”

Tears formed in Danny’s eyes. “That’s not true. He’s just a kid-“

“Even if it was a child once, it isn’t anymore. An undead creature of bizarre power fighting for dominance in a damned town while wearing the face of a child,” the man picked up his cane and shook his head. “If that isn’t a demon then Lord help us when it reveals its true face.”

Danny stepped back again onto the grass and further under the weeping willow. He stayed there firmly off the path as the man walked slowly toward the street.

A gloved hand rubbed at green eyes. He grit his teeth and called after the man’s retreating form. “You’re wrong. I’m gonna prove it!”

“Don’t be naïve, child.” The man waved a dismissive hand back at him. “Save your soul while you still can.” He turned around a corner and was out of sight.

Danny felt a rage in him that felt so cold and kicked off the ground launching himself into the air. He saw the man from above but what was there to say? What if the man talked more and that rage solidified and proved him right? What if Phantom was the worst of the ghosts, no, the demons that now inhabited the town.

It made sense. He wasn’t a ghost, he wasn’t human. Both species had told him he didn’t belong in their worlds. If he didn’t belong to either side, maybe the old man was right.

If he wanted answers, maybe he needed to look down.

#ASF Writes #ASF Wrote a Thing #Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #dp event #angstfest2023 #no one knows au #judgemental citizen of Amity Park

[adeadgirlspoetry]

We’re only what we pretend we aren’t.

#poetry #beautiful quote #female poets #literature #poetsandwriters #writing #quotes #spilled words #spilled ink #sad poem #thoughts #mental health #me asf

[lotus-pear]

have u ever drawn kunichuu before,,,,they would be so elegant in ur style

you are SO lucky i had this lying around...............anyway i think they should makeout forreal god bless i love it when my two favs are in love

#ONE FOOT HIGHT DIFFERENCE IS CRAZYYYY BRO HAS TO CROUCH JUST TO TALK TO CHUUYA 😭😭 #i drew this for my friend bc she is writing a fic w both of them in it actually #kunichuu underrated asf ik everyone would jump at the idea of having dazai's partners bond over their mutual hatred for him #bungou stray dogs #bsd #kunichuu

[stsgsk]

"You've saved me as what?" Satoru repeats for what must have been the fifth time.

You sigh, speaking again, slowly. "Cotton Swab. I saved you as Cotton Swab"

Satoru gapes at you, mouth opening and closing without a single word coming out. In the end, he pouts and look away.

You frown. "Hey, come on. Don't be like that," You walk around him so you're directly in his line of view, his pink lips sticking out as he crosses his arms. You show him your phone, where his contact really is saved as 'Cotton Swab'. "It's a term of endearment. An affectionate nickname. I mean, would you rather just be saved as Satoru? How boring is that?"

Satoru glances at your screen once, then looks away, clearly unimpressed. "You didn't even give me an emoji."

"Alright, alright" you say, going ahead to edit his contact name. "I'll add some emojis. Which ones do you want?"

Before you could blink, satoru had taken your phone. He gives it back to you a few seconds later, leaving you chuckling at the long list of emojis he had put after his name. His name, you just realised, he changed to 'bf'.

You look up at him with a grin. "You gonna explain that?"

"Nope" he says back with a matching grin.

He didn't explain that you two were now matching, because he had long since had you saved as 'gf' with a whole bunch of emojis after too.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #fem reader #first post <3 #forgive my rusty writing its been months/a year even? I'm washed asf #i imagine it set in his high school days #but i guess adult him works too #he's so smitten #you both aint in a relationship #yet #thanks for reading <3

[caitlinbueckers]

baby daddy.

paige bueckers x reader

3.2k

like guys . I don’t even know what to say rn . this is PURE fucking filth like yas there is some exposition in the beginning and its dialogue heavy but like ✋✋ just know this is fucking porn . So sorry for anon if this isn’t up to par but the wormz took over my brain and this is all i have to show for it . Love u so much for the idea tho <3

ANYWAYZZZ !!!! you and paige buy a strap. filth ensues.

MAJOR 18+ WARNING!!!!

“babe.”

it’s deadpan, borderline exasperated as you turn your head, meeting a wildly unimpressed expression from paige that makes you snort out loud, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

in your girlfriends hand, dangling from her fingers, is a dildo of some sorts, shaped horrifically in the form of an anatomically incorrect fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your surprised laughter from bubbling out, taking a step closer with a look of awe.

“dude, you’re kidding,”

“babe, why are we even here? like, deadass i have two hands and ten fingers, this is so extra.”

to be fair, she had a point— those two hands and ten fingers had never done you wrong in the slightest, but this was simply an act of impulse, deciding just that morning after you guys had spent the time with each others hands down each others pants, you’d declared in a sudden rush of post-nut clarity, that you simply had to see paige in a strap.

which, was met with a bit of intrigue and then, obviously, because paige bueckers is competitive in anything she can consider herself good at, couldn’t help but interrogate you in outright disbelief.

‘so, what i’m hearing is that i’m not enough?” it was said in the tone she uses when her sarcasm is over the top, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, slapping her arm.

‘baby, stop being so dramatic, oh my god.”

you’d kissed her to silence her delusions as to why you’d even brought it up in the first place, before explaining ever so gently that it was never a matter of what paige couldn’t do, and more so about the capabilities of what she could do, and that you promised it would be fun.

truly, she was on board after you’d told her that for some girls it was hard to use, so that, ‘if she couldn’t handle it, she could give up’ — of course paige would never back down from a challenge.

“you do have two hands, and i love them just the same. i just wanna try it, okay? is that okay?” you say it in your quiet, softest voice, and maybe you’re kinda being a brat because you know paige could never say no to you when you talk like that, or when you walk up to her, tracing a thumb against her cheek before pulling her down to peck her nose.

it’s immediate the way she chases your lips, presses a quick one to your mouth before she’s rolling her eyes, “anything for my baby, i guess.” but, she’s smiling, and that feels like more progress than before.

in the end, you guys end up picking something pretty beginner level— it’s only six inches, has a dual ended pleasure vibrator nestled in the crotch for the one wearing it and due to paige’s prompt request, it is in fact purple, which only makes you laugh at the excited shimmy she does as you both walk out, hand in hand, black, privacy sack swinging between her fingers.

“thought you were so against the idea?” you couldn’t help but tease her once you guys are in the car, music already blasting— you know all her music without really knowing it, but it’s definitely something by brent faiyaz.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “until i thought about getting to fuck you with it.” she says coyly, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow before she’s pulling out of the lot, hand secured on your thigh.

you guys don’t really get to it that night, or the next day— instead settling for the slow, tired morning sex that you guys indulge in before her practice and then after, the languid, loving type of sex you both revel in for the evening when she’s back at the dorms.

no, for some reason, it isn’t until a week or so later that it suddenly comes up— and even then, you weren’t necessarily thinking about it too hard, not until the teams all at dinner. you, paige, KK, and aubrey all sit together, and it’s really in moments like these that you love to actually participate in conversations with the team— KK and aubrey had been one of the first to welcome you in with open arms after you and paige had begun dating, so you really felt most at ease with them, even if they could be complete idiots.

not like paige was any better.

it had started with someone making a tiktok, going around asking who they’d never let their son or daughter date— resoundingly, enough people said paige, which was both parts hilarious for you, and astounding for paige.

“bro! literally i’m like, the best girlfriend, that’s some bull.” she couldn’t help but scoff, even if she’s smiling just a little, “baby, i’m a good girlfriend, right?”

you purposely take a minute to answer, pretending to think about it until she grasps your thigh beneath the table, making you snicker as she squeezes, and suddenly, you know exactly the angle she’s playing.

“girl, i don’t trust you,“ KK snorts, making a face, “you’d probably get my kid pregnant or somethin’, like—“

KK’s words make paige snort, shrugging a bit, “shoot, i mean, no wonder they call me baby daddy.” she sticks her tongue out, entirely too immature for the setting of the restaurant, but it makes you warm all over anyway— you love her, even when she’s being childish, which is pretty much most of the time.

the conversation continues after that, and though you pay attention, laugh when it’s funny and answer when you need to, you can’t quite get that out of your head— baby daddy.

it makes you think.

it’s late by the time you guys get home, and true to paige’s fashion, the door is only shut and locked for a second before she’s behind you, pressing kisses to your neck and sliding hands up your shirt, humming quietly— “i’m a good girlfriend, yeah?”

it’s not often that paige asks for reassurance, mostly because she usually already knows, but it’s why it makes it extra special when she does.

“duh.” you whisper out, tilting your head back to grant her more access while she sneaks a hand into your jeans, forgoing the button entirely. her fingers are prodding against your clit when you let out a soft moan, your fluttering eyes only opening for half a second before they spot the black sack from across the room, your own hand gently grasping her wrist to still its movements.

“baby, why don’t we…?” your tilt your head in the direction, leaning your head sideways to try and capture her reaction.

surprisingly, she looks just as interested.

it’s comes out quietly, pressed to your temple, “get on the bed then.”

you don’t waste much time, stepping out of your jeans and your top until there’s nothing left but the black, simple thong that rests against your hips, crawling back against her purple sheets with an inquisitive look on your face while she pulled the thing from its plastic package.

“remember what you said earlier?” you say offhandedly as you watch paige’s muscles flex and tighten, looping the belt around her before she glances up at you, “which part?”

“baby daddy,” you can’t help but grin, tossing your head back against the bed, “just wanted to see how true that is.”

paige scoffs, and it’s obvious she likes that, plays into it even as she crawls onto the bed, looking down at you with a narrowed glance, “how true what is? that i could get you pregnant?”

it’s almost immediate the way your body flushes at that, the subconscious squeeze of your thighs together as you look up at her through lidded eyes, “mhm. is that bad?”

“i mean,” she’s smirking though, and her hand wraps around the strap on slowly, as if simulating it to be an extension of herself— it’s really fucking hot, “it’s sexy that you even thought about it like that,” she whispers, and you can practically see the confidence rising within her at the prospect, before her eyes flicker up at you. “wanna suck me off, ma?”

it makes something within you go haywire, and your mouth practically fills with saliva as if to prepare for it before you nod slowly, propping yourself up on your elbows before you stick your tongue out, paige’s blue orbs never leaving you for one second, before she’s sighing, hard under her breath, “fuuuck.”

she gets up on her knees, running her hands through your hair to gently guide your mouth down to the tip, her teeth teasing the bottom of her lip as you slowly slid the length into your mouth. it felt foreign, heavy on the tongue, but the texture was so lifelike, it almost felt like it was attached to paige.

“shit, baby,” she sounds out of breath as she thumbs your hair from your eyes, wanting to catch every dirty look you send up to her, mouth full and eyes watering, “god, you’re such… a slut.”

it must’ve been the strap or something, that had the endless string of dirty talk spilling from paige’s mouth, not entirely too uncommon and yet it had shifted the atmosphere completely. it felt lavacious, provocative, tantalizing even.

still, it makes the arousal pool between your legs, making you practically squeeze your thighs together again and again, chasing the feeling of some type of friction as paige pushed her hips up slightly, the tip only then touching the back of your throat and eliciting the first drop of a tear from your eye.

she notices, because she doesn’t miss a thing, and is slow as she pulls it from your mouth, eyes lingering on the string of saliva that connected your bottom lip from the tip of the strap.

she’s breathing heavy, blonde strands falling into her face, loose from the usual braid she kept her front pieces in as she grasps your jaw, “does that hurt?”

it doesn’t, but it makes you smirk that she even asks, shaking your head before you lean back now, head hitting the mattress as you open your thighs, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“you can make it hurt,” you suggest, and paige lets out a slow exhale, a teasing grin on her smile as she grasps it by the hilt, “you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know that?” the words are hissed down at you, spoken between her lips, chapped from how hard she’d been breathing as she rubs the tip of the now warmed, messily lubricated length against your cunt, eyes narrowed and focused as she drags it up, then down.

“you’re so wet,” it sighs out of paige as if she doesn’t even realize that she’d said it, a whine puffing past your lips involuntarily, ready to spit some type of urgency towards her, until she pushes in, finally, and you fucking gasp.

it was unlike what you’d really ever felt before— especially having never been with men or experimenting with penetration on this degree. it’s thicker than you expect, thicker than paige’s fingers combined, and your back arches upwards off the bed, right as paige grasps your hip to keep you right in place. “shh, shh— fuck, you’re so good, baby.”

“ohhh- oh fuck, paige—“ the words come out in a mess of noises, as you fling an arm over your face to try and focus on the comforting rub of paige’s thumb, the smell of her cologne, instead of the stretching, hot pressure that’s collected between your legs.

it only takes a couple moments before it doesn’t completely hurt, but the second that it does, you can finally blink your watery eyes open, letting out a soft moan at the furrowed eyebrows on paige’s face, her own lips parted as she carefully gives a shallow thrust into you, the subsequent friction of the dull, now audible buzzing of the vibrator on the other end of the dildo against her clit and it’s obvious.

it’s in the way she grunts, tongue darting out to seek attention to her bottom lip. “s’that feel good?” she’s panting already, and it makes your stomach swirl in arousal, nodding quickly as she gives another slow, but shallow thrust that sends immediate shivers up your spine, a rush of rampant pleasure up your stomach as you let out a groan, “more?”

it doesn’t take long for paige to find a rhythm— surprising considering her dancing abilities— and once she does, you can practically sense the confidence that radiates off of her. it’s in the way she wraps an arm around your thigh to hoist your leg up, higher, higher, until your cunt is on full display, and she’s leaning atop you, pressing wet kisses to your breasts as she drags her hips into you, each push making you both shudder out a moan.

“shit, baby— so fucking— so fucking wet. wan’me to fuck a baby into you, huh?” paige always has a habit of going on these fuck-drunk tangents, ones that usually send you careening over the edge in due time, but this— it makes you mewl into her ear, the thick, heavy weight of the strap punching into you, deeper than you or paige could ever reach, and it makes your hips jerk upwards, wanting more of it, all of it.

for half a second, you hoped, by some weird anatomical technique, she could get you pregnant.

“ohhh— fuck! paige, paige— pleasepleaseplease—“ what you’re begging for, even you can’t decipher, but it’s really just to make sure that she rocks into you like that again.

and she does— again and again, drool collecting in the corner of your mouth from how long your lips have been parted, and paige looks at you, delirious and flushed as she drags her thumb over your mouth, wipes away the spit and reaches between you two.

before you can figure it out, you feel her finger tracing the outside of your stretched cunt, the wetness that’s collected there as she lets out a wanton sigh, something more high pitched than what paige usually grunts out, “stretching you s’good, baby— fucking- take it, jus’ like that— fuck, wanna fuck you stupid, baby.”

it’s almost too much. your head presses hard against the comforter as paige’s hips push flush against your own, the final stab of the length being inside of you makes your head swim, your body acting upon it’s own accord as your thighs, shaking, squeeze around paige’s hips, your stomach flexing and jumping as paige gives up whatever bit of composure or control she has left, before she’s quick to fuck into you without a single strand of resistance.

it’s hot, heady, and the sweat that collects on the surface of your skin is almost like a sense of accomplishment as her face falls into your neck, your thighs pushed impossibly high to give her the best angle, as she ruts into you. the slight curve of the dildo somehow gives a direct angle to your g-spot, and it punches a shout out of you, one that’s followed with a crying whine that even you knew was bound to get you both caught.

“fffuck— shhh- shut the fuck up—“ her mouth is on your neck in an instant, other hand quick to clamp over your mouth, but the friction against paige’s clit has her bottom lip quivering, struggling to close as each of her gravelly, breathy moans launch right into your ear, and it’s clear that she’s being greedy, grinding the strap into your cunt for the effort of chasing her own high, and it’s fucking sexy.

this deep, you can almost feel the fucking vibrator, and it reduces you into nothing— fingers twine into paige’s hair, sweaty and sticky, as she fucks into you with reckless abandon, the bed frame squeaking in protest, your cunt wet enough that you can fucking hear it, can feel it drip onto the bed below, feel it coating the sheets and paige’s thighs and you think she’s about to orgasm with how quick her breath has gotten, how shaky her hips are with each incessant thrust, like an earthquake pulsing through your body and it makes you sob, because it feels so fucking good, and paige is so deep, you can feel her everywhere.

“wanna cum inside of’you— ohmyfuck- please, wanna fuck my babies into you— iloveyou, so, fucking- so fu-ucking sexy, baby, fuck.”

it’s all gibberish really, a promise that makes you turn into a pile of mush, because you can feel your cunt tighten around it— delusionally, you imagine paige can feel it too— because even her declaration of love is enough to send you flying over the edge as your legs tighten around her hips, the vibrator nestled deep against paige’s clit until she’s coming too, and it’s a glorious thing to hear— ripping from her throat in a cacophony of throaty groans and whines that mimic yours, only deeper, grittier.

she thrusts into you, sloppy and out of control until you can feel her release on your cunt, spread against your thighs, the dull vibration now pressing hot and wet against you, so much so that it makes your body flood in aftershock, pleasure wracking through you in earnest as your body twitches and jumps, every embarrassingly high pitched noise ripping from your throat, as paige’s go muddled and unintelligible against your neck.

it’s like a cathartic release of sorts, leaving you feeling boneless and jellied in the wake as you slowly return to your senses, fucked out and exhausted as you try to experimentally move your hips, but the soreness between your legs is almost unfathomable.

“shit—“ you hiss as paige finally lifts her head, her own hand slow to guide the strap from your abused cunt, and it’s clear by, not only the tired, almost loopy smirk on her face, but the redness in her eyes, the wetness coating her lashes, that she’d enjoyed herself as much as you had— and while sex between you had always been mutual, it wasn’t often you got to see her fully release like that.

“was that good, hm? did i do okay?” she’s always quick to look for approval, her hand coming up to brush the tears from your face, to pepper a light array of kisses against your lips, chapped and puffy, as you let out a tired laugh, “fucking duh, that shit was… so hot,” you trace her blonde strands, plastered to her forehead, away from her face, “don’t think i’ve ever heard you sound like that.”

it makes her cheeks red, eyes rolling with a scoff, as she lets out a quiet laugh, already trying to play it off as cocky instead of flushed, “well- yeah, ‘cause, i was watching you take my dick.” you slap her arm weakly with a snort, wincing at her usage of words, “ew, you’re so gross.”

“and you’re so pretty,” she counters, before pressing a quick kiss to your mouth.

you both don’t really try to address the fact that there was probably no way you’d both been quiet enough to not at least alert one of the girls, but you ignore it anyway.

besides, it’s only KK that ends up putting you both in a group message the next morning, sending a string of angry emojis and a text that says, ‘bye im moving rooms’.

you both laugh, because you know she’s not, and more so, you all three know it wasn’t the first time and definitely not the last.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #writing asf #paige bueckers #smut #wlw #still feel like i could get even worse

[poppyswriting]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.

One shot: Blitzø x hell born! Reader.

Summary: A stand up night, that was all it was meant to be. Or maybe it wasn’t..

Word count: 1,0k

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut suggestions but nothing too crazy, friends with benefits, slight angst but fluff.

Notes: This is a one shot ! ! A short story that just came into my mind out of nowhere, and because let’s be honest lil’ Blitzø needs love for fucks sake. If there’s any grammar mistake please let me know ! !

It was no secret that you wanted Blitzø. Well, at least not for Loona.

It all started when you submitted your application to work for I.M.P, you got a call back and had to meet your boss.

And oh boy, was it just you or was he really hot? Couldn’t get through the whole meeting without looking at him not giving a fuck about what he had to say. The last words that actually passed your dumb founded skull was a “You’re hired!” That snapped you out of your trance.

You nodded thanking him like one thousand times, it was easy to do that because you actually needed the fucking money. when you went out of the office you saw a hell hound that was the receptionist. Before entering the meeting you actually got a chance to talk to her, bonding a little rather quickly because of Verosika and her hot Body guard.

After you went out, she glanced at you over her phone “So? How was it?” She asked, going back to her phone but still hearing you. When you told her you would be working here she just smirked still looking at her phone.

It wasn’t a long time till you got used to the Job, I mean it was pretty much just sit there with Loona and usually anytime costumers arrived you would take them. And when Loona did take them and she loose her temper you would do it for her meanwhile she draws daggers with her eyes to the client. You thought that at this steps she would eventually get fired, it didn’t take you long enough to find out that she was your bosses daughter.

Now, with that in mind it didn’t mind you being in this position.

You were in the backseat of I.M.P’s van because Loona called Blitzø to come and pick her up. When you parked and Loona was convincing Blitz to actually hop on the party you weren’t much sure about this idea. You weren’t a party pooper really, but something was telling you inside that you shouldn’t be here. You were on the van because you just so happened to be on the road when Blitz told you to hop on, you didn’t have actual important things to do so you just went with the flow.

Just like now. Looking in between the yelling crowd how your boss was finishing the beer supply without any care and actually beating Beel, making Loona proud. You eventually lost yourself in the crowd, trying not to bump with anyone because you didn’t want to talk to nobody. This type of environment made you uncomfortable, so you stepped into the van and waited for Blitz and Loona to come.

Fuck you fell asleep..

You cleaned the drool from your mouth, looking around where Loona parked in. It was your bosses apartment, “Hey Loona, care to crash at my place for a while and bring me some of the groceries I left? I’m gonna take care of him don’t worry.” She doubted for a second, but eventually let go.

You placed Blitzø in the couch, as you went in the kitchen and grabbed some water for him. Putting the water down, you turned on the tv. After a while of changing through programs you felt a little tug on your things, your head snapping to the sheets as you saw the imp trying to get through your pants. You couldn’t deny it was so fucking hot, still, you pushed him down a little.

“Hey, HEY boss hold on are you all right?” You asked, as he gave you a smirk and relied his head slightly on your inner thigh “I am.. Fiinee” you didn’t believe that because of the tone on his voice. You were about to protest when you felt a sharp but so, so euphoric pain on your inner thigh making a laud moan like whine slip out of your lips.

You felt how the tips of his fingers played through the hem of your underwear, now this was a whole new level. Of course you weren’t a virgin but this, this was different. His fingers slipping in so secure under your underwear touching your aching core, taking high pitched whimpers out of you..

. . .

The next morning, Blitzø woke up in his bed naked. The morning light hurting his eyes as he hugged his own figure, he repositioned himself rubbing his eyes and letting a deep sigh off. He didn’t remember much of last nigh, he could’ve sworn that Loony was the one who brought him back to his place—..

Then, he saw it. Some of your clothes on the floor, he remembered. The long lasting night, the moans, the sounds, how his room was filled with filthy sounds and laughter. The way he grabbed the bare flesh of your thigh as he thrusted deep and rough inside of you. The way you scratched his back so deliciously because of his thrusts, but it was strange. Why were your clothes here if he woke up alone?

It was just a one night thing, this is how it always went for him. You guys fuck and then leave, it was a routine for more that he hated it. That was just how things go, his thoughts stopped when he heard the door opening. You with one of his shirts on and your underwear, “Already up?” You said, you could’ve sworn that he was going to sleep till more later.

Blitz then traced his eyes through your shoulders, how it was laced with Bites and hickeys. You noticed this and chuckled slightly “don’t worry, I’ll get rid of them eventually. Come on, breakfast is ready.” You said walking off to the kitchen leaving a confused Blitzø behind.

This was supposed to be a one night stand thing, but why did you stayed? Weren’t you going to leave? He wasn’t complaining, I mean free breakfast is a win. But it still made him crack a smile.

So it’s safe to say that it wasn’t weird when that “one night stand” turned into three, and three into seven and slowly they didn’t seem like just “meet up to fuck” anymore.

#blitzo #helluva boss x reader #helluva blitzo #helluva boss #i should use some sleep now I’m tired asf #Random writing energy boost at eleven pm #hazbin hotel #helluva loona #helluva x reader #helluva beelzebub #helluva boss verosika #helluva boss blitzo #helluva blitzø #blitzo x reader

[snety]

devastating! guy has yet to write and illustrate their (his) (her) comic sees no fan content for it created (because it does not exist for public consumption yet)

#🐟 #NOT ACTUALLY DEVASTATING #its just crazy bc my guys occupy so much of my brain space i cannot fathom them not being in other peoples brains as well #like a cup spilling over etc etc #i just need to write everything. and draw everything. and then figure out where i wanna post it #3 simple easy steps! > lying #the act of creation is crazy asf

[ackee]

fullmetal alchemist fans ready to repeat the same joke about dogs theyve used the last almost 15 yrs

#a testament to arakawa's writing tho is that even 15 yrs of those jokes dont make that scene hit any less hard #its still sad asf!! i think what got me too when i rewatched it last year is that its ONE OF THE FIRST EPS LIKE? #I WASNT EXPECTING IT TO BE THERE SO FAST MY LORD.. #heavy hitter after heavy hitter.. #txt

[galaxysgal]

just started s10 when tami is pregnant asf so now i’m thinking about lip with a lovey needy pregnant gf 🧸🩷 ((not edited + been awake 24hrs+))

“good morning baby,” you croon, watching lip come sleepily down the stairs. he runs a hand through soft, messy curls and waves to franny, who had started giggling the moment she saw him. you sat at the table with her while debbie was in the shower, filing out your crossword and letting franny ask you questions she had about her new baby cousin in your tummy.

“what uh-, fuck, what time is it? how long’ve you been up?” lip asks, rifling through the cabinet for a half-eaten, half-stale box of cereal. he’s tired, you can see the dark circles from across the room. you’d made the decision to let him sleep in, leaving him in the morning with a sweet kiss on his cheek before drawing the curtains and shutting the door.

you shrug, “about noon… been down here since seven. this baby sure is a gallagher, ‘cause he’s real hard headed and stubborn,” you say, playfully pointed at your baby bump.

“baby gallagher,” he mumbles, almost in awe as he pours two bowls of cereal.

you stand, one hand on your back to ease the constant weight of your pregnancy belly, and make your way over to lip. he smiles knowingly as you hold out the fruit basket to him, and takes a banana to cut up in your cheerios. just the way you like it.

he’s thoughtful in that way, knowing what you wanted, what you needed, understanding you in a way no one has before. while lost in thought you feel his arms wrap around your middle, hands resting gently on your baby bump. then, you feel your son kick right under lip’s hand. sure, there’s discomfort attached, but it’s all worth it when you look back at the sweet smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“hey buddy, how ya doin’ in there? hm?” he murmurs down toward your tummy.

“he’s been rowdy this morning,” you confess. you’d barely slept because of your son’s constant kicking. “i think he’s ready to be outta there, aren’t you little man?”

lip laughs softly at that, moving to finish slicing up the banana for your cereal. “you should’ve woke me up. i could’a helped try and get ya comfortable or somethin’,” he tells you, turning his head towards you with concerned eyes.

you just shake your head with a dismissive smile. “you needed the rest, lip. i let you sleep in.”

“hey, look at me will ya?” he says, reaching a hand out to guide your cheek. you meet his eyes, seeing him softly search your face. “you gotta rest too, mama.”

you shrug him off, but fall in at his side as grabs the milk from the fridge. “baby keeps me up, then i think about all the shit i gotta do and-“

“nuh uh, none of that, we’re in this together yeah?” he says bluntly, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“of course,” you respond with a kiss to his cheek. his skin is still warm from sleep, and you breathe in the scent of tobacco and cologne.

lip nods, satisfied. “there we go, end of discussion. you wake me up next time, you hear me?” he says playfully. he turns around to grab the shaker of cinnamon but you reach out and catch his sleeve, pulling him in so your faces are nearly touching.

“thank you,” you murmur to him, hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “and i love you. so, so much.”

you can feel lip heat up at your words, but he kisses you softly instead. the two of you are so close together, the world falling silent as you lived in this brief, shared moment.

“yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, laughing softly, but after a moment his shifts into a genuine expression as he adds, “i love you too. so much.”

end.

#i’m high asf and sleep deprived but i needed to say thjs #tbh this could be nonsense k didn’t rlly proofread #and also i’m so fucked up rn !! #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x y/n #mags writes #🍃 posting #shameless fanfiction

[mediocrtea]

Ion even blame Leyley😮‍💨😮‍💨

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #andrew graves x reader #I made this for a bot photo actually lol #x reader #hes so fine idek like wtfff #my artwork #digital art #idk how to do gifs #might do ashley but idk… she fine asf too #the gif rlly took all the quality out💀 #i kinda wanna right an andrew x reader but im not sure.. #feel free to send me writing requests :)

[another-shameless-fangirl]

Skin Hunger

In which Danny learns about another kind of hunger from Jazz.

Words- 3,151

----

Danny felt a hollowness inside of him.

His stomach never ached as Phantom. As a ghost he never had to eat or sleep so he never felt tired or hungry but something was off. He couldn’t describe it. Something bad was happening and it was not anything he could put meaningful words to. There was a weight inside of his skin dragging the flesh down thick and heavy and nameless. He could move through it. The weight did not make him sluggish but it made him ache in a way that was not quite pain.

He fought hard as always but there was less pride in his victories and less joy in the peace he found after. There was a stress and tension in his body when he fought and a vicious edge to his strikes. He did not talk as often to the combatants and there was an emptiness in his head, in his chest when he let the ghosts back into the zone when he was left in silence. 

It all felt like too much and not enough at the same time but why?

He felt like he could cry but for what reason?

When he transformed back to his human self it got better but not in a way that mattered. Human him felt warm and solid but that heaviness persisted like a dull weight in his body, like it pulled down through his skin and the tissue underneath in either form like his body was not sure if he was in the space he occupied or elsewhere. Why was this happening? Was it stress? 

He watched a stray spirit meander by him, more memory than substance and he wondered if there was a chance that would happen to him? What if he was losing himself? His humanity was a tricky thing on the best of days. What if Phantom was starting to separate from reality? What if this was the first evidence of him losing his mind? 

His mind swung with an anxious fragility and the ideas flooded his mind and would not stop coming. 

He was going crazy.

The ghost below walked through a wall and disappeared. Danny was too tired to follow. That type of ghost never caused any harm anyway, There was so little left of their minds they may as well not exist. 

What if that was going to be him soon?

Tears formed in his eyes and he scrubbed at them furiously because Danny Fenton didn’t cry and neither would his ghost.

“Danny?”

His head snapped up toward the voice baring his fangs at the voice before he could register his name. That meant the voice was friendly. He blinked tears from his green eyes. He was on the roof, the OPs center. The voice was Jazz. He snapped his mouth shut, mortified but the girl did not comment on the revoked threat . 

“Long night?” She asked and he scoffed. He was irritated in an instant. How could he go from having an existential crisis to annoyed at stupid questions at the drop of a hat?

“I’m fine.” He muttered, his voice echoed even more than usual with the sheets of steel lining the roof. Danny drew his legs against his chest pulling them tightly with both arms. He felt better somehow with that pressure around his legs but his skin still buzzed with something... 

Jazz closed the hatch behind her and took careful steps toward him across the metal. “I turned off the alarm when I saw it was you,” she started and she looked over the rooftops below them. “I texted mom and dad that it was a false alarm. Rogue frankenfurter.” She told him with a smile and a pleased note to her voice. 

It was an inside joke they shared about why hotdogs came in packs of 10 and buns in packs of 8. The two remaining sausages were doomed to haunt the Fenton house after being contaminated by ectoplasm in the fridge. 

He didn’t smile back, didn’t thank her for covering his careless mistake of coming to his house, his own home and triggering an alarm he helped his dad install years ago. He was so stupid and here she was having to make up for that. 

He was a stupid, hollow shell of a person and Jazz could be doing so many great things if she didn’t have to look out for her dumb little brother. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have to for much longer.

Tears leaked again and Danny hid his face in his arms instead. By design, the hazmat suit did not absorb any of the liquid. Were they even tears? Did ghosts cry or was that too human? He sniffled for air he did not need but it still came back out in a sob.

Something warm touched him and his entire body jolted. Arms wrapped around him and he was being hugged- Jazz was hugging him and the world stopped spinning out of control and all he could think about was how warm she was. 

Was he really that cold?

“You don’t have to do that.” He croaked. Even his voice failed him as if it was just another broken part of a janky machine. The arms just crushed him further.

“It looks like you need it,” concern laced her tone and he tensed but it was so hard to stay coiled like this. Now he was making her worry. Idiot. “What’s going on, little brother?” Jazz asked and something about the way she addressed him made him crumble but to crumble was to be weak and how could she ask him to be weak when he was already so fragile?

“I’m fine. Let go, I have school in the morning.” He snipped and squirmed in her grip but she only loosened her grip enough to look at him instead of releasing him. She looked at him so softly and held on like she would never let go in a way that left him truly alone. 

“You’re okay. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” 

Of course he could. She was one of the only people he could talk to freely. Lately Sam and Tucker were listening to him more and more until he shut them out too. When was that? Did he imagine shutting the door in their face last week? How could he be so tired and on edge at the same time?

“I think I’m going crazy.” He whispered at last. Danny half hoped she didn’t hear but of course she did. 

She didn’t deny it or tell him he wasn't, which was agonizing and comforting at the same time. “Why do you think you’re going crazy?” 

He turned his head into her shoulder and thought about it. All the sad and dreadful things he had been thinking about himself were coming back jumbled and twisted and he could hardly recognize the ones he had been thinking all day versus the ones he was coming up with on the spot. 

Freak. Loser. Dead.

“I feel like shit,” he admitted at last. “Or at least this body does. I feel okay enough during the day but as Phantom I feel…” He frowned unable to put the words out in the air. Whatever Phantom was, that manifestation of his suffering consciousness, it hurt more clearly. 

Jazz didn’t say anything but she did nuzzle her cheek against the top of his head and held him and he thought he could cry again as he made himself speak. 

“I’m angry at nothing. I’m so sad and I keep forgetting why until I try to think about it then there are so many reasons and it sucks.” He sniffled again and she just stroked her thumb over his arm. She was so warm. 

“You’ve been under a lot of stress.” She said and he groaned, shaking his head but not pulling away. 

“I’m always under stress. This is different from the regular superhero stuff. I feel like something’s wrong with me. I’m so tired,” he sniffled. “I'm getting mood swings. I yelled at Skulker today and I think I actually hurt his feelings.” He told her and while that was a hilarious thing to think about it just made him more mad because it was mean, not quippy or even original. He let out a wet laugh anyway. Like he owed the hunter artistic integrity. 

Jazz just stroked his arm and shoulder and she was so good at it. 

“It feels different from being a teenager?” She tried but the levity and jokes were fading. She was considering his feelings and Danny didn’t realize that was what he had been really needing. 

“Yeah. Like it feels like something new. And it’s worse in ghost form. I’m starting to get worried that I’m… That something’s wrong with me,” Danny blinked but tears started to pool and threatened to run down his cheeks as some dam inside him flooded over and he babbled. 

“I feel fine sometimes and other times I just don’t and I can’t explain it but I really wonder if something’s wrong with me like-” His voice started to waver and Jazz tightened her grip around his back and gave him a long moment to finish.

“It feels like I’m actually dying.”

Jazz did not tense around him, her heart did not skip a beat or hammer and thankfully she didn’t say anything to tell him he was wrong. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She said and it was a complete statement. It was pity and sympathy but it did not make Danny’s skin crawl. He sniffled and turned his face into her shoulder.

“Why do I feel this way?” He asked as if she could give him a diagnosis on the spot- like Jazz could find a ghost bug on his back and yank it out of his spine and he could feel better in an instant but whatever this was he felt in his core. As such, she did not have an easy answer.

“There are plenty of things that could be manifesting,” she said sounding thoughtful as if remembering exactly what one of those psychology textbooks said and she going to recite it verbatim.

"Could you paraphrase it for me?" Danny sighed but listened for Jazz to continue which she did with an even, terrible patient tone.

“The brain is a dumb, beautful, electric jelly lump and anything you’re feeling is real. We just have to figure out how to fix it. Or at least make you feel a little better.” She said and it sounded honest enough. “Is it possible this is how your stress is manifesting in your body? Tense and mad at ghosts?”

He didn’t know.

“I was stressed before and I never had a temper like that. And I was never exhausted all the time, even in the beginning when I only fought ghosts once a week or so.” Because I was so weak stayed hidden on his tongue, bitter and disgusting. He turned his cheek against her sweater and he felt her shrug. 

“The human body isn’t meant to be stressed out for long periods of time. We’re meant to relax and hang out most of the time and be in run from the tiger mode just sometimes. This could be something biological. Your body might be overwhelmed.”

And that would be comforting except for that keyword--biological.

“That’s a human thing,” He snapped and pulled away. The grip broke and she looked at him with concerned eyes. Her hands still lingering on his waist and shoulder and he swatted them away. 

“I’m not a person, Jazz. I’m a ghost. A monster.” He said and his lips formed a tight line and he willed them not to tremble as he scrubbed tears from his face. She blinked at him. 

“Why don’t you feel like a person? Did something happen to your human half?” 

He shook his head frantically straightening because to be small was to be weak and he couldn’t handle that right now. He stood and walked away a few steps forcing himself not to pace.

“No! Yes… I mean I’m fine but I just feel like shit. It’s ridiculous- I need to be stronger.”

“Making yourself stronger won’t necessarily fix whatever is going on. You can get help-”

“You can’t help.” Danny snapped at her but the heat was lessened. 

“Then I can get you what you need to help yourself.” Jazz narrowed her eyes stubbornly pushing herself off the cold metal. She stood tall and crossed her arms. “You’re a human, Danny. You need all the basic things a human needs.”

“I get everything I need as a human and it’s not enough because something is wrong with me.” 

“Did you eat dinner?”

“It was glowing so no. I ate lunch at school.” Danny crossed his arms back at his sister. He was in ghost form but he fought the urge to fly off. If they didn’t finish this conversation she would just follow him downstairs to his room and text him all night when he didn’t answer the door.

“Slept?” Jazz asked, apparently just going through a check list and Danny bristled. 

“I dunno. I got home at 2 last night then went to bed.” There he stayed up scratching at his arms for hours then went to school. The answer did not impress her as if she knew that.

“Have you played Gloom recently?” 

“I played Doom on Saturday for like two hours.” He rage quit after being killed again and again and making no progress. The memory made him tense and he glowered at her. “Are you just listing stuff from that pyramid thing?” He was pretty sure safety and self esteem were somewhere on that list but he really might just jump off the roof if she asked a stupid question like Do you feel safe. 

“Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, Danny. It’s a real thing. In order to get to the top of the pyramid, you need to have the base which is physiological needs. Food and water, rest, relaxation, touch, and exercise.” Jazz listed like the walking encyclopedia she was. 

This was all so stupid. He had all of those things in spades- except touch. He paused, freezing a snide remark on his lips and frowned. He wasn’t clingy and he didn’t exactly have time for a dating life. Even those fleeting hand touches with Sam had long faded. His fingers twitched and he turned to look at his gloved hands. 

“Danny?” His head jerked up and Jazz was always too smart for her own good. She tilted her head and studied him as if she could read his thoughts and maybe she could. She could always read him so well. 

“When was the last time you experienced a human touch?” She asked concisely taking any ghost punching off the table as technically contact. 

He fidgeted under her gaze and shrugged but did not answer. What counted as human touch? He blushed and sputtered. 

“I passed a note in class today? Got handed change by the lunch lady…” He realized as he spoke that he was reaching. Those couldn’t possibly count but she just nodded slowly. 

“How about last time you had a handshake? Pet a dog? When was the last time you had a hug?” She asked giving him a second to process and Danny took a long moment to think and he really thought about it. He hadn’t hugged his friends in a long time, teenagerdom taking that casual action unless something really emotional was happening and one of them needed comfort. His parents had been wearing Specter Deflectors in the house for months as part of their uniform and hadn’t questioned, hadn’t insisted anyway when Danny stopped accepting offers for a morning hug. They chalked it up to teenage moodiness.

“The last hug I had was from you.” 

Jazz’s face fell and Danny wondered if he should have lied. The event in question was a quick, genuine thing. He remembered the fleeting touch as she left for school one morning and he had shrugged her off.

“Danny…”

“Forget it. It’s not a big deal, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“These are human needs, not just for kids,” she sounded distraught. “We’re pack animals and we need to be embraced and touched. It lets your body know you’re safe and you’re a loved part of your community.” Did she forget how he was often enemy number one, let alone the school loser? Whatever community he was a part of he wasn’t exactly loved. He smiled tightly at her.

“I think we’re pretty well past that.” 

She frowned and stalked towards him and the look on her face took him by surprise. He tensed getting ready to step back but she just grabbed him tight. 

Standing under the pale moon light, high enough where those below could not see them, Jazz held Danny Phantom and tucked his head under her chin all but enveloping him.

But then she didn’t let go.

“Uh-"

“30 seconds of contact, minimum.” She said with a voice full of authority. “That’s the bare minimum your body needs to release oxytocin- happy brain chemical. Come on, hug me.” 

He raised his numb arms immediately and obeyed squeezing gingerly around her back. 

“Are you seriously counting to 30 before you let me go?” He tried to be glib but even now that weight was starting to dissipate. It couldn’t be that simple could it?

“I’m very serious,” Jazz said using that glib tone he had tried. “But instead of counting, I figured I’d just hold on until it feels right.”

How long would that be? Danny had started to think that he would never feel better, never feel whole again but here she was draining that horrible feeling from his body like she pulled a plug.

They held on to each other tight and maybe it was all fake and Jazz was making it up to give him a problem to focus on. Either way he felt soothed. 

Jazz let him pull away after what must have been a full minute, maybe longer and he blinked at her feeling tired but not in a way that made him exhausted. 

“Any better?” She asked as if she didn’t know. He smiled at her tightly but it wasn’t pained.

“Yeah. Thanks, Jazz.”

“Now I’m gonna want you for that every day,” she warned but smiled back. “We can do this every day before school and after if there’s time but you gotta see me before any ghost fighting nights.” Danny smiled a toothy, teasing grin.

“Are you giving me prescription hugs?” 

“Yep.”

The two of them looked at each other for a long moment but even as the smiles faded to something more comfortable, whatever happened here worked at least a little. Even if it was all made up or exaggerated, at least Jazz cared enough to try. 

In any case he wouldn’t fight the treatment. 

----

Ectober 22- Staff

#ASF Writes #ASF Wrote a Thing #Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #ectoberhaunt22 #eh chaos #Doing these nice and sweet fills this year huh #Day 10 #Hunger #But like #Touch deprivation #Touch starvation

[adeadgirlspoetry]

#adeadgirlspoetry #poetry #beautiful quote #female poets #poetsandwriters #quotes #writing #funny #me asf #dead poets society #the secret history

[caitlinbueckers]

fuck it.

caitlin clark x reader type beat

deadass this is just a mindless blurb but i CANNOT get shy yet cocky caitlin clark meeting a rivaling fan in an elevator outttt of my mind soooo enjoy (thanks @sellawrites for being my beta fr)

SLIGHT NSFW , DIALOGUE HEAVY , BULLSHIT RAMBLINGS

18+ regardless

it would come to you as a surprise. a shock, really.

it would feel almost too crazy to be true.

you don’t think you’re losing your mind or anything, which could be a super viable option if it wasn’t for the fact that you had just left the court, game fresh in mind, still wearing an oversized UCONN t-shirt, typing quickly at your phone to express your distaste with the win that IOWA just pulled over your favorite team.

the elevator doors open and close standardly— you hadn’t realized until you’d booked the hotel just how fucking busy it is, not taking into account that it was one of the nicer hotels in the city, elite only in the sense that it took a lot of fucking flight points to even book here, exclusivity aside.

it doesn’t register to you until you’re finished with an almost exaggeratedly dramatic description of the game to your friend, corner of your lips raising slightly only in jest of your words, that you manage to glance upwards, eyes flickering quickly from the back of the hooded figure, back down to your phone. well, that is, until your eyes flicker upwards again, remaining there with a studying gaze as you try to place just where the fuck you’ve seen that hoodie before, embarrassingly candid in your incessant stare—

until the figure turns, and your suspicion is confirmed, and it kinda fucking feels like karma, or maybe some sick joke from the universe that of course the hooded figure just somehow happens to be the very player that disrespected your team the most— caitlin clark.

you’re sort of gobsmacked, so it’s silent for a beat before caitlin, almost apologetically, rushes to speak.

“sorry, i just— i saw you looking, so—“

“no, no— that’s my bad, like- i just didn’t, um, realize that i like, recognize your hoodie…?” it sounds as painful as it is to say, and somehow caitlin, despite the looks of aggression, fierceness and fervor that she displays on the court, somehow melts into this weird, sort of embarrassed looking smile that makes something foreign tingle within you. it’s endearment, surely, but interest nonetheless.

“no, that’s okay— i wasn’t, like, complaining, or anything.” it’s only then that caitlin’s eyes flicker down to your tee, and suddenly, it feels a little fucking ironic. “did you make it to the game tonight?”

self consciously, your arms cross over your chest, attempting to cover the logo, but you find an awkward, sort of quiet chuckle bubble out of you, “i did,” and, because despite the fact her team sort of fucked over your favorite team, it doesn’t take away the respect you have for her because she is tough, so you even go on to say, “you played really fucking well, by the way.”

then, it’s your turn to be surprised again, because america’s hardest basketball player is fucking blushing in front of you, ducking her head like she isn’t six feet, practically demanding to be seen, and it makes you grin despite it, admiring that even now, in her claim to fame, she’s humble.

“dude, that’s- that means a lot to me, really. it was… super fucking close, but—“ she stops herself, right as the elevator dings for your floor, right as she remembers she’s talking to a person, not a conference room, and clears her throat a little. “it was… hard.” she says, and it feels so achingly honest that it makes you pause for a second, biting the inside of your cheek. “looked hard.” you remark, watching as the smile on her face returns, timid, but there nonetheless.

then, the elevator gives another warning ding, and you feel like a fucking idiot because the doors are open and you won’t just go, and leave it at that. because, when else do people just get chances to meet people like this?

the time on your phone reads 1:24 AM.

not like you had anything else to do, anyway.

“sorry, am i like— in the way…?” caitlin is almost overly apologetic as she stands aside, and you’re quick to shake your head, mostly because yeah, she sort of was in the way, but also, because you didn’t really wanna get off yet.

“no! you’re fine, um, i was just gonna suggest maybe we could, like, i dunno— grab a drink or something, y’know?”

jesus, you felt like an idiot as soon as the words are out, and you wince, eliciting a chuckle from both you and her.

you rush to explain, “sorry, that’s like— super fucking weird, i just like, fly out tomorrow morning so i just— wanted to offer, i guess?”

but for some reason, it’s mingled with the sound of caitlin’s quick reassurance, eyes wide almost as if to make sure she’s being understood, as she says, “no, no— that’s not weird, i don’t… have anything else to do, anyway.”

the answer, though only slightly backhanded, makes your lips twitch into a real smile, and you snort, shrugging a bit. “is it gonna ruin your reputation to drink at a hotel bar?”

she’s ruthless. a fighter. a winner.

she smiles again, and it’s soft, before she shakes her head, “what reputation?”

-

you both end up too fucking drunk— the bartender only a little starstruck as you both pretend under some unspoken agreement that caitlin’s name was totally debbie and she’d never heard of women’s basketball in her life. it’s stupid, and ridiculous, and somehow you want to think it’s too good to be true that one person can be so insanely talented, and somehow not be a piece of shit— caitlin seems to prove you wrong at every point.

“dude, fuckin’— god, kate’s gonna be pissed.” the words leave caitlin’s lips in a breath of laughter, the elevator shutting behind you as your hand presses to the wall for register, shoulder bumping against her arm due to the height discrepancy that isn’t totally still making something within you stir in awe.

kate martin. you’re aware of her team enough to identify who that must be, and for only half a second do you remember that this isn’t some chick you’d met at a hotel, this was caitlin fucking clark, and it fills you with a sense of astonishment, and then, weirdly, a surge of pride.

not for any posterity reasons, but because this absolute beast was fucking giggling and smiling and feverbright from the alcohol and you’re staring for way longer than you need to because, holy shit, why didn’t you realize how fucking pretty she was earlier?

“fuck it—“ you proclaimed, loopy and still a little too unsteady on your feet as you stumble, before her hand, long and firm, calloused and warm, flies out to grasp your shoulder, “my rooms like, fuckin’ empty, dude,”

she seems surprised, almost as much as you are that you’d even offered. “is that like—? are you like, sure?” and as if to make sure she has your attention, she pulls you to her, and your eyes flutter upwards, lips parted without a sound escaping because she’s looking down at you, her hair falling from its weakly tied ponytail, and she doesn’t realize that she’s holding you tight, but you can’t pull away because you don’t want to.

your response is immediate. “duh.”

she grins. your stomach flips, for the second time that night.

and really, truly, after that it should’ve been a lot more innocent. caitlin stumbles in and collapses on your bed, looking not even the slightest tired, but with a look on her face that makes you snicker out, “what?”

it escapes her in a breath of laughter, eyes lolling from the ceiling to you, standing almost idly beside the bed as your fingers caress the bedsheets, warm only from the presence of her body a few inches away.

“wish i could do this all the time.”

it makes you frown, but your lips are still upturned, giving her a look of amusement. “get drunk?”

her own hands are twiddling with each other, before she reaches up, caresses your arm with the subtlety of an elephant, tracing over the red lines she’d left on your bicep from the elevator. it makes you fucking shiver. “no, like— meet new people and stuff. just, talking to you is like— awesome, y’know…”

you don’t know, because you’re not a college athlete, but you nod anyway, leaning over her only slightly because the last vodka cranberry is settling nicely within you, and caitlin’s starting to grin, eyes hazy and cheeks pink, as you respond, soft and just for her, “consider this a prize then? winners trophy?”

she doesn’t answer, she just laughs and then she kisses you, uncoordinated and sloppy, nothing like how she is on the court, calculated and unwavering. like this, she’s loose, strong, but wobbly as she pulls you down over her, and it’s like a fucking sixth sense that you scramble atop of her, swinging a leg over her hips like you’ve done it a million times.

though, it’s more recognizable that she’s quick, her hands racing up your oversized shirt, thumbs hard as they press against your stomach, your ribcage, the lining of your bra.

she scoffs, soft and husky against your mouth, “take this shit off.” and it’s only then, that you remember cognizantly the UCONN shirt you’re wearing, and for some fucking reason, this sudden show of confidence, the liquor somehow fueling her, makes you blush.

“fuck off— “ you’re panting, but the shirt is tugged over your head regardless, a smirk on your face, “two point wonder.”

caitlin all but fucking growls, but she’s grinning, wolfish and proud, as she thumbs over your nipples, hard and pert through the lace as she presses her hips up against you, “two fuckin’— i’ll show you two fucking points.”

and she does.

maybe her post victory adrenaline had been surging, or maybe it was just all the beers she’d housed, but you’re surprised at her energy— which was stupid considering you were looking at a girl known for her endurance, her unlimited stamina.

but holy hell, she’d just rocked the fieldhouse for all it was worth— seemed like you were next on her agenda.

it’d be hard to recount all the details. you guys were drunk, and she was like a driving, pushing force— hands snuck down the front of your shorts, fingers impossibly dexterous as they curled into you, inducing every embarrassing and pitiful sound to rip from your throat, to breathe it into hers.

you probably wouldn’t remember her voice either, husky and low, gravelly with overuse, as she asks you, “hm? how’d i do tonight? tell me.” and in a sense, it’s fucking filthy. in another, it’s almost sort of sweet. the way she says it in your neck, the way she kisses you when you trip up to say, “good— so fucking good.” because neither of you are really talking about the game, and you both know it.

you pretend like you won’t remember the way she’s gone in the morning before you wake up, nothing but a warm reminder of her body on the haphazardly arranged bed, fixtures of the night surrounding you, like your littered clothes trailing off the bed, or your body under the sheets, like the pillow she’d used as leverage when she pressed open mouth kisses against the inside of your thigh, the way she’d taken you apart with her tongue and that’s all.

you do, however, remember the number she scrawls on a napkin, with an almost laughable signature that looks worlds away from her usual, coveted autograph.

instead of her looping cursive, a simple ‘cait’ sits scratched beside it, like she isn’t the award winning, competitively, aggressively ambitious beast that you used to know her as.

for now, it’s just caitlin.

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut #writing asf

[fuckingwhateverdude]

@nosebleedclub / sept. #23

#devastating september is almost over #dog fight sounds r haunting asf tho it's an unreality #my writing #my writing tag #poetry #original poem #spilled ink #nosebleedclub #nosebleed club #guilt #on guilt #dog motif #mental illness #vent writing

[scribble-bunnie]

Let You Go | Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Reader (Gender Neutral, I think, I didn't specify anything)

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending that's also kinda Open?

Summary: Fragments of the process of falling in love with you; and the moment it all built up to.

A/n: This is my first time writing for this fandom and I'm only watched till the 2nd episode of S4 so please forgive any mistakes! Also, the Doctor might be ooc (my biggest nightmare, writing ooc characters) but I was possessed last night to write this instead of studying so ofc I will share it. The pacing is all over the place and I'm not the proudest but it's something. I hope you enjoy it regardless <3

also available on ao3!

The Doctor doesn't remember how it happened. It had been too quick, or maybe too slow– or maybe it was both at once, leaving him unable to pinpoint when or how he fell in love with you. All he knew was that it had been easy.

There were moments though– moments when he could remember distinctly the unusual rhythm of his hearts that played only around you. Moments when, in the back of his mind, he had no choice but to admit that he was in love.

The one that hurt him the most to this day was the moment born out of his own anger. It had been at the end of a particularly harsh adventure, one that had left his feelings in a jumble, anger hot and quick to lash out the moment you had pushed a little too far, too close to his heart and to his hurt– he had shouted at you, "Don't you dare! You are not special!"

There was silence for a few seconds, enough to get the Doctor to realise what he had said but it was your response that still haunted him to this day.

"I know," you had said gently. He could see the hurt in your eyes, masked with an understanding and soft smile that was reassured. "I know I'm not special. I'm perfectly ordinary. And isn't that wonderful? Someone special like you needs someone ordinary like me by his side– to remind you that it's okay to be ordinary sometimes. It's not a bad thing, Doctor."

You had inched closer and opened your arms to offer him a hug, a way out of the conversation – a silent way to make an apology. He had taken it, not knowing what else he could have done instead to make you realise that you were wrong. Being ordinary was wonderful, but you were special. Special to him in ways he was too terrified to admit even to himself, so much so that he had said the opposite in a fit of anger because he was scared.

He didn't know how you did it, but you somehow knew that his anger was just him being hurt and scared. And you were always generous with your hugs when anyone was afraid– didn't he know that after seeing you hold so many strangers close while on your dangerous adventures? Those same strangers that he had been jealous of had been replaced by him in that situation and suddenly, the moment was not all that he had hoped it would be. It wasn't a delicate and vulnerable moment like he had thought; he had ruined it by hurting you.

Yet you were never one to hold a grudge. You never really mentioned it, except in passing sometimes when you joked about being ordinary and common whenever an alien or person would think you extraordinary. Every single time, the Doctor regretted not letting you know the truth– but that moment had been one where he couldn't have denied the truth even if he was scared.

There were other times, other memories of you that were a lot more warmer to remember. Like the time when you had asked him, a few days after joining him, whether the TARDIS was alive. He had answered you with a simple yes, and you had just nodded then but he could see you take the time to pet the TARDIS and speak to her sometimes when you thought he wasn't around. It was sweet, the way you were connecting to his only constant through all of time and space.

There was a moment on another planet, one in the far past where an alien species had been under attack from another. The Doctor still remembered the sight of you holding the alien child in your arms while you all tried to escape– had heard the comfort you had whispered into the child's ears despite being scared underneath the surface yourself.

When he asked you about it later, you had just given him a radiant smile and said, "The fear is just my natural instinct, Doctor. But the conscious part of me knows that you are there– and it's never scared because it believes in you."

You believed in him.

Sometimes, he wondered why. On the days when all the two of you encountered was death and destruction, the whispers of the danger that follows the Doctor clanging in the back of his head as hollow reminders, he wondered why you would choose to put all your faith in him. Why would you think that he was special, but you were ordinary? How were you able to still offer him comfort after seeing him destroy planets, species, entire civilizations? What did you see in him, an empty shell of a man he once used to be?

"Doctor?"

Your voice was like a steady anchor whenever he felt like he was drowning in his own thoughts. The loud volume of it was always offset with the gentleness in your tone whenever you spoke to him, and somehow, it always managed to make him feel warm. It sounded a lot like ho–

"Doctor, are you okay?" Your voice was concerned now. The Doctor blinked, snapping out of his own thoughts to look at you. You were holding something in your left hand and reaching out to touch him with your right one. "Is there something I can do?"

"No, no!" He cleared his throat, giving you a bright grin that faded a little at the edges when he realised that you were still staring at him impassively. "Sorry, just got a bit lost in my thoughts there."

You hummed, wrapping your arms around the box in your hands now. The Doctor looked at it curiously; wasn't it one of those cookie tins that you said were always full of sewing materials?

"Was it… about her?" You asked quietly, a little unsure and hesitant. It was the only topic you never really brought up– and whenever you did, you always sounded a little scared. Like anything you said would hurt him too much. Or maybe you were scared to pry too far into his feelings. "The planet we went to today… Did you go there with her?"

He had done that before. You had been there with Martha, when he had taken you two to places he had been with Rose. Never again after that, though.

"No, not this one," he shook his head, trying to look you in the eyes. It was usually so easy, you were always looking at him with wide eyes that seemed to admire him. Now though, you were looking away. He tried again. "I wasn't thinking about her."

"Home, then?" You finally looked him in the eyes, a little tension sucked out but not all. Gallifrey was the second topic you were careful to speak around. You had had your fair share of answers demanded out of him like Martha had, but after that, you had let the choice lie with him whether he wanted to talk about it. And, weirdly enough, sometimes he wanted to tell you everything. Wanted to tell you about the place that once used to be his home. Now…

"This is my home now," he replied quietly, hand slipping to cover yours over the cookie tin. You and the TARDIS. Home. "Anyway, what's this?"

If you realised his terrible attempt at switching topics (which you did, as always), you didn't comment on it. Instead, you held up the box and opened it to reveal not the notorious sewing materials but actual cookies.

"I," you blushed, embarrassed for once. It was surprising, considering you had held steadfast through far more humiliating scenes in all your adventures. Why were you blushing over cookies? "I tried baking some cookies. It's not, it's not much, and they're not all that goo– hey! I'm still speaking!"

The Doctor didn't wait after hearing that you made them. He immediately picked one up to try it. He could tell that the baking powder was just a little bit too much and the mix wasn't done properly in some bits but you were looking at him with a shy smile.

"I thought you deserved a little nice something after the mess our last adventure was," you mumbled, picking up one of the cookies yourself to eat.

"It's good," the Doctor felt a little choked– not on the cookie, but there was a lump in his throat. You rolled your eyes, waving your half eaten cookie at him.

"Liar," you called out, smiling through the action. "I promise the next ones will be better. Or maybe I should try a cake next time. Would you like that?"

The Doctor stiffly nodded, trying to blink away the sting in his eyes. As always, you knew something was off.

"Hey," your voice was soft, concerned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"No," the word came out before he could stop it. Somehow, neither his brain nor his mouth had a filter when it came to you. "I just… wonder."

You waited for him to speak when he paused, trying hard to put the words together. Speaking his emotions was always so difficult.

"I just wonder," he tried again, "what I did to deserve you."

"It's just cookies, silly," you shook your head, inching closer. The Doctor hoped you would step even closer. A hug would be really, really nice right now. "It's nothing compared to all that you've given me. I have seen so much, gone all across time and space because of you– I could ask you right back what I did to deserve you."

"It's not," he was struggling but he had to let you know. You looked a bit confused, pausing in your actions to look up at him. "It's not nothing. All of time and space is nothing compared to all that you have given me. That understanding, that comfort, that warmth– I can't find it anywhere else in that time and space you speak of."

"Doctor…"

"Do you remember that time I said you were not special?" He asked quietly, taking a step closer. It was the first time he had done it; usually, you were the one who had to cross the space between the two of you. You opened your mouth, probably to say that it was all bygones, but he rushed ahead with, "I lied. I have wanted to tell you ever since then, that I am just a coward, and a liar. Saying that you're not special… that was just me trying to tell myself that I can't let you be special to me. Because the moment I let that happen, that's the moment I–"

He broke off, frustrated at how the words just weren't coming out the way they were supposed to. What was he supposed to say anyway? It's not like he could tell you his feelings. There was no way you would take it kindly. Not after knowing about Rose, not when you had only ever looked at him with respect and admiration.

"Doctor," your voice was quiet but you were so close and the hum of the TARDIS had quietened so much that he could hear you clearly. "Don't."

Was it possible for both his hearts to sink? He stared at you, tears welling up in your eyes as you gave him a painful smile.

"Don't do this," you added shakily, your arms coming up to hold yourself. Beside you, the cookie tin lay forgotten on the console. "Don't… give me hope, only to take it away. I have been strong, but I'm not strong enough for this."

"What–?" He didn't understand. You closed your eyes and took a step back, a step away from him. Something inside him fractured.

"I have loved you in silence, Doctor," you said quietly, "and I thought I did it well enough for you not to realise. But I must not have done a good enough job hiding it– you know how it is. I'm not, I'm not asking you to return my feelings. I don't expect or even hope you to. All I ask is that you forget it. Forget you know it and let me go on one more adventure with you. One last, if you can no longer bear to see my face after this. Just one–"

"Why one?" He stepped closer, covering the distance you had backed up. "Why not all of them?"

You seemed to have lost your breath as you stared at him. "Y- You mean it? I can stay? You will forget this happened?"

"No," he shook his head, hands reaching out to touch your elbows. With his eyes, he asked you for permission. You would be mad to deny it, when that's all you've wanted for so long now. "I can't forget it even if I tried to. I told you, you are something that I can't find anywhere else in all of time and space. And if you choose me, then I'm selfish enough to not let you go."

°•❀•°

all likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated ♡

#doctor who #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor x you #ten x reader #doctor who reader insert #this is scary asf #please don't judge me based on this >< #i swear im usually better #writing for a new fandom is so so scary aaaa

[doukeshi-kun]

i wish we could learn more of nikolai's backstory. i mean, out of DOA, we know about so little about him. we know sigma joined to get a home, why fukuchi created DOA, why bram is stuck in the whole scheme, why fyodor's using the fukuchi's agenda for his own benefit, etc. matter of fact, as of now, we are currently looking into glimpses of fyodor's past that somehow has bram involved.

but nikolai?

why did he join DOA? for the 'pure evil' of the plan? for trying to free himself in some way? but the whole sunday tragedy is already being determined by the page/fukuchi/fyodor, isn't that the same by being under subordination? but we can argue that there has to be some kind of sacrifice needed in order to reach his goal.

did he think for himself at that moment? was there any genuinity behind his scream of not wanting to die?

as i'm rereading bsd, i have a strong feeling somehow that the DOA arc isn't supposed to end like that—fukuchi's dying and we had an old man yaoi moment. i also feel that... maybe, nikolai is intended to still be alive so we can get the whole 'im gonna kill dos-kun and you're gonna find out what's his ability'. but the whole gogol's game isn't really... making sense.

i hope just like sigma, nikolai would get another important role other than a conductor for mind battles.

anyway, ik fyodor's not dead at all, so if he really wants to "You tried to kill me, I would like to return the favour" to nikolai, i'm interested to see that.

#im yapping honestly #and im biased asf lmao #im about to steal nikolai and make his own backstory AUGHAGHAGH😭 #fanfiction wise: i prefer to write nikolai in an after-bsd event setting #so i can talk about his consequences of his own actions #道化師-fool❃ུ۪