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guacamoleroll · 3 months

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𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 「𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯」 ೀ⋆｡˚

content. f!reader. discussions of separation/divorce, friends to lovers, (name) is a fallen angel, sexual harassment, insecurities, discussions of mental health, spoilers for hazbin hotel season finale, implied/referenced not-safe for work. not proofread. 3.3k+ words.

author's note. i'm not sure if i'll be making a valentine's day post, but i haven't updated in a while, and i wanted to post something. so here's another hazbin hotel oneshot that's been in my drafts for a while! (sorry to all my bsd readers, i will be posting content soon!) i hope you guys enjoy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

OR someone comes in to try and ruin your relationship with lucifer, and he isn't happy about it.

You remembered the sensation of an eternal inferno, the mark of damnation that scorched your fingertips, submerging your divine being within a cluster of flames. Exiled from the heavens—a fate worse than death to most became an accepted element of your newfound reality. You never belonged perched atop clouds, even with the virtue nestled in the recesses of your heart. A part of you feared the unknown as you descended through novas and clouds, but it felt like a pressure had lifted from your being as those imposing gates shrunk behind you.

As the first of a cluster of falling stars, your impact landed you on the steaming ground of a new, hellish landscape, your mind scattered from the force of the fall, limbs trembling with their aching joints. And that was when you saw him, a brand-new man who held out his hand, smile desperate yet reassuring. The Morning Star himself, brought upon the same fate, still shaken from the tragedy of his descent—it had been much more personal for him.

“It’ll be okay, (Name),” his familiar voice reassured, but it was impossible not to hear the waver in his tone as your hands intertwined. “It’ll all be okay.”

And with a single touch, traversing hand-in-hand through this foreign land, you knew that someday, he would be right.

But that happened many millennia ago, a tale for storybooks rather than a memory that should’ve constantly been on a loop in your mind, held onto during the dead of lonely, bitter nights. Despite your long-standing friendship, the both of you held very separate lives—him with his family, you with your industry. You worked in tandem in relation to the public and aristocratic duties but otherwise barely spoke past the occasional smile and wave. And no, you couldn’t help the desolation that had sprouted inside your heart, the muscle aching as you observed his radiant smile from across ballrooms, the king exchanging affectionate glances at his wife while coddling his sweet daughter. But you were happy for him all the same. He deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, deserved to be happy after years of heartbreak, even if you weren’t in the picture.

But you knew that you could depend on each other, even if you hadn’t spoken in months. It was an unspoken connection between you, a rule unbroken. Which was the reason you knew his midnight call one evening had been serious. His voice was flooded with anguish, sputtering out incomprehensible words as his breath caught with every beat. You dropped everything, the paperwork and meeting planning, flying over with speed so fast that the denizens of Hell whispered for days about the shooting star that had flown across the sky that evening.

In your journey, there was one persistent question that kept bothering you—why wasn’t his wife the one to comfort him? It wasn’t that you minded, not at all, but the entire situation struck you as odd. However, your answer became clear as you cracked open the doors to his bed chambers; the room was frozen and still as if left abandoned. However, the knocked-over furniture and smashed artifacts only made it look like it was robbed, which you highly doubted. And there in the center of the chaos was the Morning Star himself—no, Lucifer. Simply Lucifer. His body crumpled to the ground, painful hiccups leaving his lips. You slipped inside with ease and were about to grab his attention, and then you spotted it, the large lettering of a familiar type of document—a divorce agreement.

You were aware that the relationship between Lucifer and Lilith wasn’t perfect, not by any means. When they had fallen in love, there wasn’t a guideline for navigating relationships and marriage. They had to play it entirely by ear, leading to rushed decisions and a shaky foundation. You had always believed that they were each other’s perfect half, but it was only because their punishment and subsequent banishment had tied them together and forced them to suffer the same fate. At least, that was their belief for a couple of millennia. It didn’t mean that the split that was bound to happen didn’t hurt.

His cries had been hard to hear, throaty and painful, his body trembling as he mourned on the floor. It took a culmination of your mental and physical strength to unravel him, forcing him away from those papers and into an embrace, slowly steadying his breath with yours as he clung to you as if you would leave if he let go. That night set the standard for weeks of a miserable routine, with the former king reduced to sobs and silence. It was unbearable, especially as he pulled away from those who cared for him—his fellow sins, his friends, and especially his daughter. But you continued to hold on, not leaving even with his harsh utterances and occasional outbursts. You wouldn’t let him be alone, couldn’t let him be alone, moving into the broken family’s manor to care for him full-time.

And he would always be thankful for that.

His mental health was climbing uptick for years, fluctuating back and forth until he had stabilized, at least in comparison to his state before. He became fantastic at masking his depression, brushing it underneath the rug as he delved into his own creations, pushing many of his relationships even further away as he stopped leaving home. You were the one to bring him food and clean the estate—his staff had drifted to other careers over the past few years. You were the one assuring that he wasn’t left hunched over a bench in the worst posture possible, toiling away with his latest obsession, no matter the cuteness of the ducks.

In his more conscious moments, you would listen as he ranted about his issues, even though you both were aware they were a product of his self-isolation. But in those instants, whispering quietly as if the heavens still held onto your every word, hiding from its light as if the touch of it would scorch your skin, an intimacy blossomed from the depths of your former friendship. It had remained idle for centuries, underlying the foundation of every interaction and word, leaving fleeting touches and shared laughter in your blissful youths for stern support and brief softness in your demonic adulthoods—neither of you ever noticed that you saw the other through heart-shaped lenses. Two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

But that had been the norm for thousands of years.

And without knowing, you had fallen into a relationship stage humans had archaically dubbed as “courting,” traveling outside the estate for the chance to spend time with one another, exchanging personalized gifts whenever the opportunity arose, swapping words of encouragement and affection. It was only after you had kissed him on the cheek one night that you both realized your feelings, and it only spiraled on from there. There were scars from his past love—undoubtedly, you had nurtured them with care—but even despite those, you worked to establish a healthy, balanced relationship as you navigated this strange stage in your lives.

However, there was someone who had not been quite so fond of this new development. You had attended meetings with the Heaven Embassy for many years as a favor to Lucifer, his absence becoming common after his separation from Lilith, but you could still remember locking eyes with the first man as you entered the room, dropping the chicken drum in his hands as his mouth widen agape.

“Hot damn.”

His flirtatious and oftentimes self-centered advances didn’t fly past your head like you wished they would. It seemed despite having thousands of years under his belt, he was unable to learn any kind of manners, but he had been the original sexist prick. And for his status as a divine man, he fucked around a lot. You didn’t doubt that was due to his own insecurities about both of his wives preferring someone else’s dick over his.

Once you and Lucifer had started dating, you happened to make the mistake of slipping that information to Adam in the hopes that he would back off, but it only seemed to provide him a challenge as his flirtations increased tenfold. From then on, your meetings no longer consisted of the same old information surrounding the exterminations; rather, they were him pointing out the many sexual accolades that he had roped under his belt and the way that apparently made him better than Lucifer—his favorite line was always that “that snake must have a little snake.”

Your disdain was obvious, repeating over and over for him to shut his mouth, but he would only smirk, taking your response as a sign that he had struck a nerve and that it was an opportunity to dig deeper. You decided to take over all the meetings with the embassy, keeping Lucifer away from the lecherous banter of the man, no matter the discomfort that formed in your gut from his unabashed perverseness and the predatory stares at your body.

“Come onnnn, babe,” Adam whined, in the middle of biting the meat off a chicken bone.

You shot him a look. “I’m not your babe, Adam.”

“Babe.” If you were able to reach over and strangle him, you would’ve. That was probably the reason the coward used a hologram instead of coming here himself. “A guy like that couldn’t possibly please you the way I could.”

You massaged your nose bridge, pointedly ignoring the flicker of his eyes from your face to your chest, unable to maintain stable eye contact. “Can we just get on with the meeting?”

“You know I’m right, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

You groaned, slamming your head onto the table.

From years onward, his nerve only increased, but he had never shown his bloodlust to you before until the exorcist army descended from the heavens to wreak chaos and death upon the doorstep of Lucifer’s only child, Charlie. You and the ever-so-optimistic princess of Hell developed quite a soft spot for one another, which wasn’t difficult since you had already been considered family in centuries past. The title of your romantic relationship with her father initially came with questions and a couple of awkward moments, but it wouldn’t stop either of you from growing a deeper friendship and understanding, walking through the process together. And it definitely didn’t stop you from defending the girl you had seen for years as a pseudo-daughter, along with her noble ambitions.

“Charlie!” you yelled, knocking Adam away from her as he attempted to strangle her. Charlie sputtered, holding her throat with a pained cough, and you raised a steady hand to her back, helping her rise to her feet. You gave her a once-over, relieved to find that she had no substantial wounds besides a couple of cuts and bruises.

You sighed, cupping her rosy cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Sorry for being so late. Your father will be here any moment.”

Her formerly desolate expression quickly changed into a beaming smile, eyes glimmering with revitalized determination. “Good! We need all the help we can get.”

However, the moment was cut short by the overexaggerated breaths of a particular man, Adam wobbling to his feet as he cradled his bruised ribs, which you didn’t doubt had been cracked in the impact. It was hard not to smile as he struggled to stand, a wave of retribution twitching through your fingertips.

“You bitch,” he groaned between shallow gasps, though his voice drifted into a humorous lilt. “You know, I’m all for feisty women, but this shit’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think, babe?”

“I am not your babe, Adam.”

You cringed at the moan that left his lips, knowing it was not from the pain of his bruises. “God damn, I love it when you say my name.” He chuckled. “It’d be better if you screamed it.”

“You couldn’t have been that good if both your wives left you for someone else,” you muttered, swallowing your bodily urge to vomit as you rubbed the burgeoning headache coursing through your temples.

His expression drained of any warmth or humor, only leaving behind the rotted, sinful corpse of a man that he pretended not to be. “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know, the only reason that snake keeps your ass around is because he needs a couple of assets,” he barked, curving his hands to gesture toward your curves. “To distract him!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him—”

He cut you off, his imposing figure towering over you. “You’re only a convenience. A pretty face and a hole to fuck.”

You gasped, but he didn’t let you speak, a smirk curling up on his disgusting face. “You don’t mean anything to him, hun,” he sneered, his voice sickeningly sweet as he grabbed your chin, craning your neck at a muscle-aching angle to stare into your eyes. “You had a chance at heaven, slut. A chance to be with me. And you fuckin’ blew it—!”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a bone-crunching punch tunneling into his face, his body cast off the hotel, which rocked under the aftershock, before it started to crumble like a deck of cards. With no time to waste, you and Charlie haphazardly jumped from shrapnel piece to shrapnel piece, able to land on the ground with barely a tumble as it collapsed into your foundation. The moment would’ve been devastating if your focus hadn’t been pinpointed elsewhere, the screams of a dying man drawing everyone to the impact pit.

“You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve,” a low voice scowled, sweltering steam blocking everyone’s vision away from the pair until it evaporated into the air, and that was when you spotted him. His voice was barely recognizable. The duplicated tones and whispers surrounding each word made him unidentifiable. But you knew who it was; those familiar sets of wings and the eyes of his tailcoat were clues enough. You hadn’t seen him take this form in decades, centuries even—he had no use for it, and to go to such an extreme was unlike him. He was shaking more than ever before; his fists balled up Adam’s collar as he pinned him to the ground.

“Intruding on my fuckin’ realm. Hurting my daughter.” And with each offense, another blow was added to the first man’s face, which looked more like roadkill than a former human with each malefaction. “Harassing and insulting my future wife!”

“Don’t you mean your little whore?” Adam managed to utter, that cocky tone still persistent.

But that was a terrible mistake.

Lucifer did not respond to his comment, not at all. Instead, he paused, finding himself unprepared for the sheer audacity of the man underneath him, a man only clinging to life through recesses of holy power and spite. To the unsuspecting bystander, it would seem the king had calmed himself down, but instead, an inferno blazed between his fingertips, his form threatening to tear with the amount of heavenly light that he balanced on his palms. The ire of his many eyes looked upon Adam, and they saw to it that his judgment day had come early.

“Die.”

“Dad!”

Luck seemed to have Adam’s back as Charlie intervened, one of the few people who could ever draw her father out of such an irate warpath. However, it was only after a moment of contemplation from Lucifer, whose eyes stared at Adam, his face unreadable as his fingers twitched before he cracked a wicked smirk.

“How’s mercy feel, bitch?”

The next moments were a blur, though those eyes had turned towards you instead, not with the anger they had towards Adam, but of sheer contemplation—not that you paid attention to them, watching Adam’s death unfold in an ironically anti-climatic sort of way. You would’ve felt bad if your mind didn’t remedy the guilt in your gut with memories of your several encounters, most of which were not PG-13. The rest of the staff and residents gathered their bearings, joining to work on rebuilding the hotel, but you did not have the strength to. Instead, you took a moment for yourself, thoughts toiling through your head as they often did, not understanding the icky, nauseous feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You flinched at the brush of a hand that rested on your shoulder, only to find that it had been Lucifer, his brow furrowed in that same contemplative expression. And much like those times alone in the estate decades prior, a patient silence persisted as he sat next to you, gauging each touch as he pulled you closer, allowing your limp body to lean into his.

“You know none of what that asshole said is true, right?”

Is that what you had been so concerned about? You couldn’t tell. Your thoughts surrounding your relationship, especially in the context of his former love, had always been indecipherable, even to yourself. His question brought a small beam of clarity into the shadowed pits of your darkest thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now, at least.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice was more shaken than you wanted it to come out, but he understood the underlying message. He could tell it wasn’t the truth, not entirely, and that the roots of your insecurities weren’t something to be remedied through a singular conversation. But it was a start. He intertwined your fingers, caressing the bare area of your ring finger.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he spoke, his voice soft. “I would never have let you go to those meetings.”

You stayed staring out into the distance. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

However, he believed differently, tilting your chin as he cupped your face, much more loving compared to the hands that had grabbed you prior. And his eyes, ones that had been filled with hatred, now glinted in sharp concern. “But it is a big deal. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You were going through so much,” you replied. “It was just one additional thing I didn’t want you to deal with. Another burden on your back.”

“(Name),” he said, voice stern.

The gruffness of his uncompromising tone drew your eyes to your hands. “Any insult to you is an insult to me. Always has been, always will be. People don’t get to talk to you like that. It doesn’t matter what shit I’m going through. That doesn’t mean you get to be thrown under the bus.” He cracked a smile. “And anyone who even thinks of treating you less than the perfection you are deserves to be roasted alive. You’re not a burden. You’re priceless.”

“You’re really into those cannibalism metaphors recently,” you quipped, a bit of your reprieve and humor returning back. He laughed, his heart falling into ease, though he recognized the nod towards his disdain for a certain radio demon, his expression contorting in disgust.

“I’m not gonna eat him! Think of how gross that thing would taste. Just awful, bleh—!”

You cut him off with a kiss, making his rosy cheeks redden more. “Thanks, Lu.”

You tried to stand. His arm braced underneath your back, a hand brushing across the sensitive skin of your waist as he hovered above, his lips locked onto yours. You sighed into his mouth as his fingers mapped every beauty mark of your face, only for him to split, panting. His eyes shone with recognizable desperation, but the smirk on his lips told you he was prepped to tease, brushing the stray baby hairs out of your face that had been ruffled in the fray.

“If someone ever bothers you like that again, you tell me. Got it?”

You only sighed. “Lucifer, I can handle my—”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, mouth upturned in a cheeky grin at the way it cut you off. “It’s not smart to fight without your shield, now, is it?’

You relented, unable to withhold your bashful grin. “Of course.”

A silence persisted.

“Your future wife, hm?”

“…shit.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @little-miss-chaoss

#muse's anthology ‧₊˚ ⋅#f!reader #starring: lucifer .ೃ࿐#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #queued ═ ꒱ˎˊ˗

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clubkira · 3 months

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hey vie!! i love ur new pfp and banner!! super super cute sweetie :33

leaaaa thank you dearie!!! stupid tumblr won’t let me edit my pinned to give the credits to the artists n i hope that changes soon</3

#RAHHHH I HATE THIS HELLSITE #˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ signed with love from lea .ᐟ #𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒷 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓁!#queued.

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mayapenelopes · 1 year

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❝ yeah, well, i guess it's a good thing they don't get any say. ❞ she says, clear as day in her statement that she doesn't care what anyone thinks about her or who she loves. she'd only ever been able to hold space for the people she cares about, and meaningless comments would never matter. ❝ if i want to love you, i will, and it's nobody's business but ours. ❞

@heartfe1t

#「 ❀ 」 » answered. ⋮ ━━ ˗ˏˋ from the inbox ˎˊ˗#「 ❀ 」 » contact list. ⋮ ━━ ˗ˏˋ farkle minkus ˎˊ˗#「 ❀ 」 » v1. ⋮ ━━ ˗ˏˋ take on the world ˎˊ˗#「 ❀ 」 » away from the keyboard. ⋮ ━━ ˗ˏˋ queued ˎˊ˗#heartfe1t

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ikeuz · 1 year

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#𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗔 𝗜𝗦 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗘: ·˚🪦˚ˎˊ˗#queued !#Spotify

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wylmn-archive · 2 years

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❝ LOOK, I DIDN'T COME HERE TO BE AN ACTRESS, @shadowbrn. I CAME HERE BECAUSE MY MOM MARRIED MY DAD AND NOW WE CAN AFFORD THINGS LIKE SUMMER CAMP. ❞ maya says, kicking at the dirt outside of her cabin. she didn't care too much about acting camp, but riley had gotten the acting bug, and now maya was following her here. ❝ i just want to take the cast photos... my dad's a photographer. ❞

#✰* — ˗ˏˋ muse: maya hart ˎˊ˗#✰* — ˗ˏˋ contact list — ej caswell ˎˊ˗#✰* — ˗ˏˋ queued ˎˊ˗#shadowbrn

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writelives · 1 year

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gently leaves my meme tag on the dash. send some memes to my muses?

#「 ❀ 」 » | ooc ⋮ ━━ ˗ˏˋ blossom is speaking now. ˎˊ˗#「 ❀ 」 » | queued ⋮ ━━ ˗ˏˋ i'm not here at the moment but have this. ˎˊ˗

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loveharlow · 6 months

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SOMEBODY'S WATCHIN' ME

PAIRING‧₊˚ Ghostface!JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [1.4k] Waiting around for your boyfriend to show up for movie night, you get an unexpected call

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mild violence, betrayal, mild sexual references, i've never written ghostface!jj and im not too well versed in the ghostface franchise myself so let me know what you think

*based on thriller (mj) and somebody's watching me (rockwell)

A/N‧₊˚ part of my angstober event!

˗ˏˋ jj masterlist ˎˊ˗

YOU WERE POURING THE LAST OF THE POPCORN INTO THE BOWL, KERNELS CLANKING AGAINST THE DISH. It was halloween, your favorite time of year, and also the night of your annual movie marathon with your boyfriend, JJ. He was running a little behind, per usual.

You had the first movie all queued up, your halloween themed blanket draped across the sofa while you poured up the drinks and dished the snacks in the kitchen. Your parents were gone for the night and the pogues had opted themselves out, wanting to give you and JJ space as a couple.

You were walking carefully towards the living room, balancing the bowl and cans of soda in your hands when the house phone rang. You rolled your eyes, assuming it was your overbearing parents who wanted to make sure you were alright in the house alone. Carefully placing the items on the coffee table, you made your way over to the half-wall that separated the kitchen and living area, answering the ringing device.

“Hello?”

“Home all alone?” A robotic yet deep voice reverberated on the other end. You rolled your eyes, automatically assuming it was just your goof of a father who loved a cheesy halloween prank.

“Ha ha, dad. I’m not a kid anymore, y'know. You can’t trick me,” You stated nonchalantly, expecting to hear his defeated old-man laughter on the other side. “I will admit, your ghostface voice has gotten better.” You joked, trotting back into the living room, tossing a warm, popcorn kernel into your mouth.

“How’d you know I had a daddy kink?” You paused, face falling from its humorous demeanor in the slightest of motions. With the out-of-character and inappropriate joke, you quickly came to the realization that whoever was on the other end of the phone wasn’t your father.

“Who the hell is this?”

“What? You've never seen a scary movie before?”

“I've seen enough to know that this joke is overplayed. So, whoever you are, go back to jerking off in your mom’s basement-”

“What about your basement?” The unknown individual cut you off. Now your face was pulled tight, an expression of anger as you shifted from holding the phone between your cheek and shoulder to pressing into your ear with your hand, eyes fleeting to the open windows, which were closed but all the blinds were wide open.

The way your eyes scanned the open space made it seem like the room spun around you, eyes squinting as you tried to look through every window at once, only catching glances of children trick or treating.

Just then, you heard something clatter — like a broom hitting the floor. And you could’ve sworn it came from downstairs.

Fight-or-Flight kicking in, you didn’t bother to investigate and instead bolted up the stairs in hopes of reaching your room. When you made it to the top of the staircase, however, you saw a tall shadow pass by, silhouette plastered on the wall as light shone through the windows upstairs, stopping you in your tracks so fast you nearly stumbled backwards.

Your eyes went wide, a deep gasp leaving your lips as you made a sharp turn right back down the stairs, backing yourself into the closest corner.

“Show’s over, if this is Pope or John B, you know JJ's gonna kill you-” You breathed, voice trembling but anger still evident. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not holding this knife to make you laugh, sweetheart.”

You could feel your heartbeat just a little faster at his statement. “I’ll call the cops.”

“You can’t do that without hanging up and trust me, you don’t want to hang up.”

Your eyes were darting all over the first floor of your home, hands subconsciously grasping at the wall you had your back pressed against, undoubtedly leaving marks in your wake. You couldn’t help but wonder where the hell JJ was, praying for him to burst through the door at any moment.

The door. The damn door. You realized you were right next to the front door. So, why the hell were you still in the house?

One last glance at the top of the staircase had you throwing all caution to the wind, hand gripping and twisting the knob only to find that the door wouldn’t budge. You'd unlocked it, the direction the keyhole assuring you of that. You tugged and pulled and yanked, all to no avail. How did you manage to get locked inside of your own house?

“It’s scary being alone with a killer, isn’t it?” A voice whispered right next to your unoccupied ear, your heart practically jumping out of your chest when you realized the voice was clear and less eerie and automated, and also...no longer coming from the phone.

Your head snapped to the side, coming face to face a beat up ghostface mask, the phone in your hand clattering to the floor as you just narrowly dodged his arm when he slung it towards your head, ducking under the attack and nearly tripping over your feet as you made a b-line for your kitchen.

You ruined the house in your trail — throwing chairs, stools, and end tables behind you in desperate attempts to slow him down.

You didn’t even realize you were screaming as you ran.

You yelped as you hit your foot on the leg of a display in the hall, slipping and sliding on the hardwood as you never slowed in your pace.

You spotted your fathers work study door open, feet carrying you faster, ignoring the aching pain in your foot, as you made the room your destination. Making it into the space, you turned around to slam and lock the door, not missing the glance you caught of the man running after you. You felt his body collide with the other side of the wood as soon as you had it shut and latched, presumably throwing himself against it and you held it shut even though it was locked.

Your breaths were shaky and quivering, tears flying down your cheeks. After a few seconds, the thudding on the other side stopped. But you weren’t dumb enough to open the door again. The only thing on your mind was getting out of this god forsaken house.

Spotting the one window in your father’s office, you looked down at the doorknob to ensure it was still locked before bolting over to the opening, prying the glass up and climbing out. Stepping out, one foot at a time, you looked to your left and right once you were completely outside of the window. The night air was humid and chilly, leaving you feeling damp and cold in nothing but a tank-top and pajama pants.

If you could make it to your neighbor’s house, you could call your parents. You just prayed to whatever higher power there was that they were home, better yet awake, considering their old age.

You wasted little time in pondering however, sock-clad feet running through your yard in the direction of your neighbor's house that was a straight-shot across the street. Your feet had just hit the curb when you felt an arm engulf your frame from behind, the person’s other hand covering your mouth, muffling your screams as they dragged you right back behind the house, out of sight of any passersby that may have seen you.

Even with the hand over your mouth, you continued to kick and flail within their grip, managing to headbutt them in the jaw and drop you to the grass. The unexpected drop left you face down on the damp grass, scrambling to stand up and get away only for your ankles to be grabbed as they pulled you back.

When the aggressor managed to flip your relentless figure on your back, you were met with the sight of the mask once again as the man stood over you. You were lying on your back between his legs before he kneeled, practically straddling you.

Only then did you realize your hands were free, eyes fleeting between your hands and the mask before you were reaching up, basically palming the object and tearing it off, revealing a head full of blonde hair and a crooked, sadistic smile.

You weren’t even sure what your expression looked like.

“JJ?” You mumbled, letting the mask fall to the grass beside you. You could feel your entire body shaking. You didn’t know how to feel — Should you be relieved? Was this just a joke he took too far? Should you be terrified?

You normally would never assume JJ would hurt you but considering the fact that he’d just chased you through your entire house burned that argument to ashes. It didn’t help that he had this look in his eyes as he stared down at you — one you could only describe as unhinged.

You barely registered his next movements, as swift as they were — the way he pulled a decent sized knife from his sleeve in the blink of an eye. He twirled the object as the moonlight bounced off of the surface of it, you could see little spots littered across it. Little spots that almost looked like dried blood. He examined it, licking his bottom lip.

“You like it?” He spoke admiringly, watching the weapon glisten as if it were just a sight to see while you were laid petrified underneath him. You felt like you had just met a whole new person.

You still laid frozen still when he brought the object down to press it lightly against your throat, just enough for you to feel the coolness of it and how sharp it was. His dark gaze left the object to meet your wide eyes.

“It’s almost as pretty as you.”

General taglist; @livlaughquinn

JJ Maybank Taglist; @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @maybankslover

Event Taglist; @timmytime17

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

#angstober23'#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #obx jj x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #obx jj #jj mayback imagine

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127luvr · 7 months

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003 Heaven

. ˚ ｡ ° ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⋆˙ ✧ ⋆ ˗ˋˏ ✩ ˎˊ˗ ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ｡ ° ⋆ ࿓ . ˚

it’s a still night. the only source of light in the room coming from the candle that sits on jaemin’s window sill. the flames flicker back and forth—projecting yellow and orange onto the white blinds. it’s never this silent—never this still in a house that is usually occupied by eight people at once. but you welcome it. welcome the white noise of the air conditioner that has become the only source of sound that interrupts the bossa nova jaemin queued through his speaker.

jaemin who sits up with his back to wall next to his bed—face illuminated by his phone screen as he bites his lip. you admire him from where you sit—a bit away in his desk chair. his laid back demeanor causing you to relax your shoulders and sink into the cushioned chair, swaying in it but never spinning the wheels fully.

“you ever think about how people remember things you’ve said even if you don’t? isn’t that weird?” you never expect a response back from jaemin—always speaking at him but never conversing. it was one of your favorite things that came with the friendship. being able to speak your thoughts out loud without worrying about being judged or disagreed with. jaemin always nodded along to what you said at random—this time was no different. he didn’t bother looking up from his phone before offering you a hum of acknowledgment, almost asking you to go on.

you fix your gaze on him again as he sits—still transfixed on his phone—eyes tired as they scan the small words on the screen.

“who’s texting us?” he knows you’re teasing him but he can’t help but go pink—feeling a flush rush through his body. it’s not a serious question—you’re not even sure you want an answer but he gives one anyway.

“do you remember jaehyun? johnny’s old friend?” jung jaehyun was only a few years older than the two of you—always seen hanging out with johnny when you would come over to stay at jaemin’s. you always thought of him as an older brother—someone who accompanied you into a scary movie because you weren’t old enough yet. he was another you—adopted in by the na-suh family at a young age. but hearing his name in this context made your heart still. jaemin sees the recognition in your face, choosing to continue as he finally places his phone face down on his navy blue sheets. “he signed on with taeyong as an indie artist. i led the photo shoot for his debut album. we’ve been texting ever since.”

jaemin is careful with his wording—never outright saying what you think he’s implying. but you know where this is heading. you’ve always been able to read jaemin like a book—his emotions clear on his face.

“i was thinking of bringing him along to the exhibit—and before you say anything i know it’s weeks away but i want to make sure i like him, y/n. and i want everyone to like him.” you’re happy for jaemin—maybe even ecstatic. he’s never had the best luck with relationships since you’ve known him but you can see how important it is to him. to have his friends’ approval—to make sure he’s not jumping into anything too soon.

which is why you’re not sure why your smile feels forced—why you feel as if the friendship dynamic has shifted on its side because of the revelation—why it’s hard to get the words out even as you grin towards jaemin, “i’m so happy for you, really.”

. ˚ ｡ ° ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⋆˙ ✧ ⋆ ˗ˋˏ ✩ ˎˊ˗ ⋆ ˙ ✧ ⋆ ｡ ° ⋆ ࿓ . ˚

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bindeds · 2 months

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° . ˎˊ queued posts, post times, requests — know when i will post and when i will queue reblogs.

ෆ requests schedule. ︲｡･◟ req count : 9 𓂃 ⊹ i’ll only be listing requests here that have a somewhat fixed posting schedule, meaning i am mostly likely still be working on your request even if you do not see it here.

0412 — group sex with multiple lucifers

ෆ wips. these are either requests i want to work on or are already being worked on.

established rs w luci + bsf vox pt. 2.

smut : lucifer duplicates himself.

reader ends their rs w luci upon lilith’s return.

suggestive / smut : you’re luci’s gift.

lucifer w an insecure reader.

vox smut in any way shape or form LMAO I CAN’T

lucifer x overlord reader ft. enemies to lovers vibe

ෆ post times. no matter when i finish writing / drawing i always prefer posting around 23:00-02:00 (gmt+8) as i find there is the most activity around that time. — knowing that, some of my writing will also be queued but won’t be tagged under my queue hashtag as those are only to let you know that i may or may not be away from my blog.

ෆ queued posts. i wanna be able to post even on the days when i’m away so i queue some reblogs to keep active while i’m away. — you can identify queued posts by checking if #꒰ ᝰ bindeds queue. ꒱ is in the hashtags. i’ll be keying in that hashtag first so it’s easier to see.

#.nagivation #created 060324.#.nav

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guacamoleroll · 26 days

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Welcome to 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐏𝐄'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘, a pop-up event that will occur whenever this account hits certain milestones. In celebration of reaching 1k+ followers, this account's inbox will open to receive special, sample requests for a limited amount of time. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖!

— 𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 (𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 + 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎) .ᐟ

These special request are open from April 3rd to April 10th. Requests submitted after April 10th will be deleted.

These requests follow the same basic rules as my blog!

You can only request once, which means requests cannot be anonymous!

Following the previous statement, if you are making a not-safe for work request, you have to be an adult! If you are a minor or ageless blog, I will not make a smut request for you.

A request has to be attached to a prompt, which will be shown in the bottom portion of the post. If it does not have one, it will be deleted.

Requests will be capped if they extended beyond fifty requests. If that happens, the request period of the event will be ended prematurely. Any requests made following the announcement of this cap will be deleted.

These requests will not be completed until after April.

— 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐔 (𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓) .ᐟ

There are five different sample options to choose from, ranging from sweet to bitter. Each has a variety of different flavors and toppings, so feel free to dig in and enjoy!

⚬ 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒 .ᐟ Atsushi Nakajima, Osamu Dazai, Doppo Kunikida, Ranpo Edogawa, Akiko Yosano, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Chuuya Nakahara, Ichiyo Higuchi, Michizo Tachihara, Gin Akutagawa, Koyo Ozaki, Sakunosuke Oda, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Edgar Allan Poe, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Ochi Fukuchi, Nikolai Gogol, Saigiku Jono, Tetcho Suehiro, Sigma, Bram Stoker, Ango Sakaguchi

(This account has temporarily broadened flavors for a limited time! Only one flavor is included in your order, so choose wisely!)

⚬ 𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 .ᐟ You can't leave out the toppings! Find your favorites in the list below, but be selective. There is a maximum of three toppings! Feel free to mix and match with both spicy and sweet prompts. Spicy prompts are in bold.

— 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒:

"i like the way your hand fits in mine."

"i shouldn't be this happy."

"don't look at me like that and then feign innocence."

"will you stay the night?"

"i'm barely holding on."

"i got everything i wanted. my everything was you."

"i don't know what i would do if something happened to you."

"who needs to look at stars when i can look at you?"

"did you eat today?"

"who hurt you?"

"i hate you."

"i've been waiting to kiss you since i first laid eyes on you."

"go to the car. i'll be with you in five minutes."

"shh...stop fighting and sleep."

"don't do this here."

"stay behind me."

"goodnight, love."

"stay away from me."

"are you sugar personified or something?"

"would you mind if i kissed you?"

"you made/did this for me?"

"i'm a monster." "no, you aren't."

"you're beautiful. you know that, right?"

"c'mere you–"

"you can count on me."

"you're hurt."

"stop pretending you're okay."

"don't touch them."

"i love you."

"i think i deserve a kiss."

"can you please come get me?"

"you can trust me."

"not until you beg for it."

"you did so well."

"do you need to use your safeword?"

"spread your legs for me."

"your thighs are shaking."

"quiet. others will here."

"strip."

"open your mouth."

"take it off. slowly."

"you look so pretty there."

"bend over."

"you're mine."

"arch your back for me."

"wrap your legs around my waist."

"i need you."

— 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒:

dancing in the rain

showering/bathing together

feeding each other

baking together

whispering sweet nothings

calling them in the middle of the night

sitting on their lap

breaking down in the middle of an embrace

bumping noses while going in for a kiss

teasing the ends of their clothes

swinging arms while walking hand-in-hand

looking lovingly into their eyes

having a nightmare

stressed out over work

panic attacks

tucking a strand of hair behind the ear

lifting your chin

resting foreheads together

grabbing your waist

hand on the small of your back

forced proximity

nicknames

jealousy

sex toys

breeding kink

first time

mirror sex

aftercare

consummation

car sex

orgasm denial

wet dream

body worship

hickies

thigh fucking

semi-public sex

fingering

wall sex

making out

subspace

shower sex

breath play

lingerie

cunnilingus

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