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arminsumi · 9 months

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can i get an eager, inexperienced gojo? he is probably so silly and loving during sexy time but he still acts like a horndog, not sure where to touch, kinda nerv but tryna cover it up bc he’s the strongest sorcerer, ofc he’s been with so many ladies before!!!! (he hasn’t but he doesn’t want YOU to know that)

love your works as always stay safe💗💗💗

AIN'T NEVER DID THIS BEFORE, NO.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟

NOTE: this made me think of that j. cole song so i looped it while writing all 2.3k of this fic 🥴 i hope u like what i did!! mwaaa smooches!! hope ur well <3

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — Gojo's saved up his virginity ever since he met you, savoring every wet dream through the years until he finally got the real thing in a hotel room in Okinawa.

WARNINGS — fem reader, n.sfw content, profanity, pre-established relationship

SMUT WARNINGS — virginity loss, light dirty talk, nicknames (good girl, sweet girl, daddy), Gojo's so nervous and inexperienced wheee😩💗, protected sex/condoms used, multiple rounds (2), kitty eating, giving him head, fluffy ending scene, lmk if i have missed smth and pls overlook errors i'm slepy asf it's 2am

Wordcount ≈ 2.3k

Playme ♪ wet dreamz

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

You can’t miss the way his Addam’s apple shifts up and down when he swallows, or the way he gawks when you wiggle out of your clothes and toss them off the side of the hotel bed.

Where are my hands supposed to go?

He’s thinking that while haphazardly squeezing a large handful of your hips and hotly kissing your neck.

This has been his long-anticipated dream come true… see, Gojo Satoru met you in high school. And the first thing he thought to himself was I want her to take my virginity. So, he had promised himself that one day, when he was older, he was gonna give it to you.

All his cheeky flirting and dirty jokes got him here, in this room of some dreadfully expensive hotel in Okinawa. Yes, he’s cheesy, as cheesy as he was when he used to lean over his desk during high school to whisper dumb pickup lines into your ear; he requested rose petals and wine. He had the lights dimmed. He laid you down with kisses right on top of those strewn petals.

Crazed, feverish, eager, overwhelmed; he was bursting with a bunch of feelings – predominantly horniness. He’s always had that horny twang about him, he was unashamed about it around you – it’s what got you hot for him in the first place, the fact that he was so bold with his dirty jokes and naughty hints.

But now he’s struggling to find his words. Now that smart mouth is sparsely throwing out witty remarks. Now he was heavily relying on comedy to ease his nervousness and mask his inexperienced movements.

He let you roll on top and savored each kiss that you pressed down his chest – heaving, he was heaving and hot already and all the two of you had done so far was romantic French kissing and tentative touches across each other’s bare skin.

The heat of your flushed cheeks seared his lower abdomen.

How low is she gonna go – oh my god what do I do – play it cool – oh my god is she actually – wow this is really happening.

Such a mess of goofy thoughts passed through his mind when you pressed a testing kiss to his glistening cockhead. Giving the slit a lick made his shoulders scrunch up, and his voice shook a bit, “Shit, baby, you don’t have to do that if you don’t w – want to… oh fuck…”

“But I’ve wanted to suck it so bad, I’ve thought about it so much.” You batted your eyes at him.

His stomach flipped.

“O-okay… ” he breathed. In the back of his mind, he was self-conscious about sounding like a virgin… because he totally was. And he wasn’t masking it very well when you started kissing and licking on his cock.

Feling your tongue swirl circles around his bulbous head, then swiping the underside, nearly made him bust right there. It took every bit of this strong boy’s strength to hold it in. And there was a lot to hold in.

“Oh that’s so fucking good.” He moaned.

You lowered your lips down his slickened cock, the warmth and texture of it delighting your tongue. Taking in his scent, his taste, his sounds – when you hollowed out your cheeks and suctioned your lips around him, he let out an uneasy moan. He was really gonna bust right there in your mouth if he didn’t tell you to ease up.

“B-baby, you’re so good at that – but – but fuckkk – slow down f’me…” he pleaded, big hand coming to the back of your head as you slid off his cock – that also almost made him bust. Oh god, you unknowingly edged him. Maybe you knew that, because you giggled at the way his cock jumped and visibly twitched after popping your lips off of it.

“Sorry, you good?” you asked him sweetly. He looked at you through lust-glazed eyes, his lower lip glistening with a bit of drool.

“ ‘m okay – fuck come here and get on your back. ‘Wanna do that to you too.” He commanded you, eagerly shuffling positions.

He lowered his face between your legs, marvelling at the shiny wet sheen smeared across your inner thigh. A thin web of juice connected from your hole.

“Sorry, I know it’s rude to stare.” He chuckled, joking to lighten his nerves. But earning a laugh from you made his heart flutter before he dove right into it – now here’s where you realized something.

He was inexperienced. Totally. Sweetly so. His tongue flicked and darted around, swiping along your slit, gathering your juices like he was thirsty. The way he licked you up felt like he was some college boy giving his crush head in a lucid dream.

But if there’s one thing you know about Gojo Satoru, it’s that he can do anything he tries. You started out giggling and squirming on his face, and ended up squealing his name and arching your back. Switching between suckling at your clit and lapping at your folds and slipping his buttery tongue into your hole – he was having fun figuring it out.

And my god, he had the biggest, smuggest, most smackable grin on his face when he made you cum.

“W-wipe that grin off your face.” You panted, half-dazed from your orgasm.

His grin only grew wider. Now he was feeling a bit cocky, a little high on a sugar rush of confidence because he just made the girl of his dreams cum from a little amateur tongue-fucking.

“You musta really wanted it bad, huh?” he teased, crawling up to meet your face and pressing a few wet, sloppy kisses to your awaiting lips. You could taste yourself, and he was conscious of that – and it made him almost bust on your tummy. You felt his cock jumping and twitching and throbbing against your skin.

“Don’t get all smug now…” you muttered.

His plumped, flushed lips hovered over your face. “Thanks for the meal.” He whispered jokingly, wiping your juice off his cheek with his thumb and suckling it off.

“Hahaha what!” you broke out laughing. “You’re ridiculous!”

He ran his tongue over his lips to tease you, “Tasted better than in my dreams.”

Now that made you flush hotter underneath him. Because for some reason, it hadn’t occurred to you that he had wet dreams of you. But he did. And he was too embarrassed to admit the number – it was big. He dreamed of you a lot. Especially taking you from the back… so naturally

“Turn around f’me, please?” he asked, “I wanna see you from the back.”

Your lack of hesitation to switch positions for him made his heart thump.

“Good girl…” he muttered under his breath, unsure of how you’d take the nickname. But hearing your giggly hum and seeing your hips wiggle up to his pelvis reassured him that you liked it.

So he engulfed you from behind, “You like that?” he whispered into your ear, big hand smoothing over the curves of your body to get a good feel of it. “Want me to call you a good girl?”

You nodded into the plush pillow, “Yes please. I like it.” You mumbled into the fabric.

“Can’t hear you, speak up.” He smiled against the shell of your ear teasingly. “Daddy’s hard of hearing.” He joked.

You rolled your eyes at his dumb goofiness. For some reason you thought it would switch off in the bedroom, but no – he was just as much as a dumb good in and out of bed.

“ ‘call me your good girl, please. I like it.”

His cock twitched. He’d started rubbing and pressing his cock into you from the back. The way your thighs and plush little pussy hugged him was better than any dream – lucid or not. And he’s had a lot of lucid wet dreams of you. Of this, specifically; taking you from behind. In his dreams, he’s pounding into you so good that you cream and cream and cream all over him. He just hopes he can actually achieve that in reality.

When he lowers his hands and fists his cock a bit before running the head between your folds, a pang of nervousness strikes his chest. That feeling came over him – that realization that oh, I’m gonna have my first time.

“So pretty…” he compliments, one hand soothingly caressing around your pussy.

To you, it almost feels like he might have done this before – you’re not sure – with the way he lightly smacks his cock on your hole, and the way he tests your smallness by slipping his tip in and out, you think he’s probably got at least a bit of experience under his belt.

But no. No, not at all. Not even a little bit. In fact, before you, he only kissed two people – and the first didn’t count to him because he hated it, and the second also didn’t count apparently because he was just practicing with Suguru in anticipation of kissing you one day.

“Fuck me…” he hissed through his gritted teeth when he finally sunk more than his tip through your hole.

“Fucking didn’t expect it to feel this good…” he thought out loud. “Might bust right here… fuck.” He blurted, then proceeded to boyishly blush.

Little hole squeezing on his virgin cock, hips wiggling back to meet his pelvis and take him deeper, you pawed behind you to feel him. “Baby, I-I gotta tell you something.” He begins embarrassedly, the nervous twang in his voice is so unfamiliar that you look back at him. “I’ve never done this before…” after he said that he sucked in a breath through his teeth at the feeling of your hole tightening and untightening.

You blink at him, and he’s worried for a split second before you smile sheepishly and tell him that he’s your first, too. Well, that little fun fact is what made him snap his hips against your ass and start fucking into you like he was some sort of crazed animal. He felt dizzied with the rush of pleasure, so stirred by the feeling of your pussy sucking his cock – there was no comparable thing in the world to him right then. He was definitely gonna become a sex-crazed fiend after this night, he thought. Absolutely. How could he not?

“S’toruuu – right there right there!” you cried out his name with such a pretty, strained voice that it made him want to tell you he loves you.

“Here? You like it here?” he hit that spot harder and harder, the squelching sound so dirty that you almost felt ashamed for a second. “My good girl gonna cum like this? Yeah? F-fuck t-t-tell me when you’re close ‘cause I’m close – really fucking close – fuck fuck fuck ahhh ‘gonna cum!”

He’s driving into that sweet spot while he cums, spilling a warm creamy mess into the condom – completely falling to pieces. Gojo’s always been inclined to obsessing over things, and he knows right then – when he cums with your quivering pussy sucking him in – that he’s gonna be obsessing over sex with you after this.

“Keep goinggg ‘m gonna cum too, please!” you whimpered from underneath him. He heard you, he was attentive even though he was panting and dazed. His thrusts got sloppy and he weighted on your body more heavily, you could feel his heartbeat.

“Good girl – g-good girl, rub your pretty clit. Want me to do it for you? M’kay sweet thing, lemme get you there – ah yeah? That feel good? You like daddy’s fingers toying with this pretty pussy? Oh fuck you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” he breathed all that into your ear and it absolutely destroyed you, especially with how those intense blue eyes piercingly stared down at you from behind.

“Get that relief, pretty girl – cum all over me. Fuck, there we go – oh wow…” he hit another sweet spot, feeling you gush and writhe under his imposing frame got him close again. “Fuck, baby – just a second, j-just a second ‘m gonna get ‘nother condom, n-need to fucking cum in that pussy again.” He pulled out quick, fingers struggling to free his cock of his already filled lil’ rubber. Squeezing into another one was one of the fastest yet most frustrating things he’s done in a while – oh, you just know that he’s gonna ditch the condoms as soon as you give him the green light to do so. Patience, he thought. He’s gonna need patience and a lot of rubbers.

“Ah fuck me! Satoru!” you arched your back when he re-entered.

“ ‘m gonna cum again, baby – fuck – s-sorry is it too much?” he breathed into your neck. Sweat beaded down his torso, down his thighs – both your bodies pricked with just enough sweat to make it erotically uncomfortable.

You barely managed to tell him that it wasn’t too much because of the way he was sloppily hitting his cockhead into your pussy. Feverish, dazed, pussy-drunk and love-drunk, you felt his hot lips nibbling at your shoulder, then he unexpectedly sank his teeth into your skin. It wasn’t sore, but those canines were a bit sharp.

Muffled moans on your skin sent a shiver down your back, one that travelled to your ass and thighs.

Rolling off to the side, panting and laying exhausted and unmoving.

“Fuck.” He muttered as if to say that was mind-blowing.

“Fuck.” You agreed.

“And ya didn’t even tell me you were a virgin!”

“You didn’t tell me, either!” you giggled, rolling into his embrace.

“But it’s hot if the girl is a virgin!”

You laughed with him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

He stayed silent for a little while, pulling you closer and caressing your shoulder. The two of you stared up at the ceiling.

“It’s embarrassing.” He admitted. “There was a time I wanted to lose my virginity just so that when I finally got to you, I’d be able to please you better. But I’m glad I waited…”

“Mmm really?” you hummed, he felt your smile print on his chest.

“…yeah.” You could hear his little smile in his voice. “I’m glad I gave it to you.”

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fatuismooches · 8 months

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SMOOCHES!! Hii sweetheart, I hope you’ve been doing well! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit inactive with brainrots, school has been stressful and on top of it I’ve been struggling with my condition. Everything’s just been really heavy on me with how frequent I go to see doctors. And I may have a rare syndrome that may have affected why I grew so short (4’10). So yeah I’ve been re-reading a lot of your lovely fragile!reader works throughout the weeks.

But I keep thinking on just Zandik holding fragile!raeder while they ramble about their problems. It’s like their own safe haven, wheee you feel heard and protected by the only person who’s stuck by your side since childhood. :( I just wanna snuggle against his strong arms and fall asleep to the sound of his heart beat. Or just being comforted through examinations while Zandik checks to make sure your vitals aren’t deteriorating. But a little angsty thought: on one occurrence where Zandik is checking your vitals and he sees they haven’t improved but slowly decreased. Seeing that the medication you take is useless and he’ll need to batch something up quickly before you take notice or grow concerned. Also, fragile!reader going to Zandy for cuddles or inviting him into their room so they can cuddle. You put on a fake smile and brush it off as “wanting to be with your favorite boy”. But in reality you just really need comfort but don’t want to nag Zandik so frequently that you’ll just be a nuisance. Yeah just fragile!reader always feeling guilt </3 it’s how I’ve been for the past few days.

But I hope you have a much better week than I have had!! And I hope it’s okay to ask, but I remember you writing something about the Harbingers having a “meeting” to figure out who’s the mysterious veiled figure who is at times seen outside the lab with Dottore. I’m not sure if you ever finished it or forgot about it you don’t have to answer this I’m so sorry.

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon ୨୧

HI 🎐 ANON MY LOVE!!! <333 Please don't worry about me or brainrots! I just want you to take care of yourself. That sounds so so stressful I couldn't even begin to imagine. I hope you're managing to get rest between all of that :( I wish i could provide you with more than my words and virtual hugs, but I sincerely hope things get better for you. *hugs* And to answer your question, I'm still working on that fic, slowly but surely! It's probably going to take a while due to school and whatnot but it'll be finished eventually. I also ended up changing the title to Latin since all my Dottore fics have that theme but I also realized how bad online translators are for Latin so right now the tentative title is "Medicus potest amare? (responsum est quod sic)" That's probably way too long so it'll might get shortened. But yeah!! I hope you enjoy it when it comes out 🎐 anon ❤️

But yes! Many of the times Dottore can't really help with your problems, since they're probably related to your illness and whatnot, but what matters to you is how he listens without interrupting or nitpicking. Whether you're on his lap or cuddling together he holds you very tightly, he unconsciously holds you like that as if you would leave him. But you don't complain since you like the security of his arms. Though if it's something within his ability to do, whether it's simple or not, his clones will get it done for you. Just to make your life even the tiniest bit easier. Examinations are never fun but Zandik being the one who does them makes them a bit more comforting :( You probably dread them a lil bit since they're just a constant reminder of your sickness but Zandik and his clones do try their best to make it as stress-free as possible for you :) which is honestly a challenge for them at first considering what they usually do but dneuwidfd they'll do anything for you, yk?

Wahh the angsty thought is unfortunately a frequent reality for Dottore... </3 No matter how much he sees it, he can never truly get used to it, there's always a sharp twinge in his chest. Though he never tells you what he sees... he doesn't want you to take on extra burdens. And ughh,,, cuddles with baby Zandy ;(( honestly his childlike innocence and smile make you feel a bit better but tbh he's still a smart boy so he can probably tell when you're lying and genuinely feeling down! Zandy will still cuddle with you of course but he will probably tell Dottore that he noticed how sad you are, and soon enough the Harbinger will be in your room again. Reminding you that you are not a nuisance. That although his methods aren't conventional, he's your husband, and he's here to help and comfort you. That you two will be together until the very end of the world.

#smooches talks #🎐 anon #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #zandy bb <3 #ahhh im giving you all of my love 🎐 anon :( <333

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toonqueen · 7 months

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Duckvember Day 6: Sleeping Duck

Wheee finally something for 2017 Ducktales lulz. Genieship with Gene and Djinn. Yay.

—-------------

Gene woke up with a sudden start. There was that split second of not remembering where he was right before he went to sleep. He knew he wasn’t /meant/ to fall asleep.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Djinn replied back softly. Gene’s head had been resting on his shoulder before he woke up. The half awake duck gave a glance around where he was at to gain his bearings.

They were sitting on a couch with T.V. paused in front of them. Gene then remembered what exactly had been going on before he dozed off. .

“Oh! You were showing me one of your fav movies and I fell asleep during it! I’m so so sorry!” Gene replied truly apologetic. Djinn just let out a soft chuckle.

“It is alright my dear. We both had a long day. Perhaps it is time for both of us to turn in,” Djinn replied, then giving the duck a kiss on the forehead.

“I’m still sorry. I don’t want you to think me falling asleep meant I was bored! The movie was so good so far. That second sword fight was so good!” Gene pouted as his spoke. He still felt bad that he had fallen asleep during something Djinn liked, “Sleep is so weird. Even though it's been years I’m still not used to it.”

“You didn’t sleep as a genie?” Djinn asked with curiosity. It was a topic that never came up in conversation before.

“I could sleep, but I didn’t HAVE to sleep,” Gene muttered in an annoyed tone, “And falling asleep when I didn’t want wasn’t a thing. And the whole feeling sleepy all day when you don’t get enough sleep. Ugh.”

“You can sleep in. You don’t need to get up in the morning when I do,” Djinn offered as he put a hand under Gene’s beak chin.

“Nooooo, I like getting up in the morning with you. That’s not the problem!” Gene gave another whine in reply. Djinn tried not to chuckle at his boyfriend’s mood but could not help it.

“I’m sorry my love. Perhaps we should try to get to bed earlier,” the canine said before he gave Gene a light kiss on the side of the bill, “Let's get to bed now and we can talk more in the morning.”

Gene let out a defeated sigh, “Okay. But only if you carry me there.”

The former genie’s statement had been mostly joking. However, Djinn was quick to scoop up the duck at the request. Gene chuckled at being held bridal style. He gave Djinn a short kiss on the cheek, “alright show off, lets go to sleep before I start complaining more. Like feeling cold! What’s that all about!”

“I’ve done a good job of keeping you warm,” Djinn tried to say with his normal even tone and straight face. Gene did notice the bit of a smile on the canine’s muzzle.

“Oh you!” Gene giggled, giving him another peck on the cheek.

The former genie had a long restful sleep that night.

#duckvember #duckvember 2023 #gene the genie #faris djinn #genieship #fargene #ducktales 2017

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steadfastmockingbird · 11 months

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15 Questions, but I'm not sure I even have 15 mutuals

Never done one of these before

Tagged by: @quinnharperwrites

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nope! I know that because I named myself.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Last night - nightmares, wheee. Only problem with having to sleep away from my partner is that my brain hates me.

3. Do you have kids?

Not yet

5. What sports do you play/have played?

I have never willingly played a sport. I probably wouldn't mind rugby, for... uh... reasons.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Build. Paranoid brain does the 'could I physically defend against this person if they attacked me' bit and I hate that even after so many years it's still the first thing in my head.

7. What's your eye color?

Greyish blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary, but it depends a lot on the type of scare. Gore? Meh. Jump scares and 'tense' music? Yawn. Someone else can have that stuff. Scary because it could actually happen if we're not careful or does already happen and forces you to think? I'm in.

9. Any special talents?

Not really. I mean, if you need someone to write a 500 word essay to persuade the reader of something they previously didn't feel strongly about I can probably manage that but 'good at propaganda' doesn't feel all that special.

10. Where were you born?

An industrial town in Wiltshire, England that died when the railways went out of fashion and has spent 50 years since bitching about it.

11. What are your hobbies?

I read, I play way too many old school PC games, and I knit almost compulsively. I'm not very good at knitting, but it brings me joy.

12. Do you have pets?

One cranky black cat called Sooty

13. How tall are you?

My mother insists I have 5'4, because she's 5'1 and I'm a bit taller than her. I maintain that I am 5'2 and she has shrunk since hitting menopause.

14. Favorite subject in school?

I didn't have one. Skipping school was my favorite.

15. Dream job?

My dream job is having no job. I hate that working is a necessity. Do you know how much I could get done if I wasn't constantly exhausted?

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lullabyes22-blog · 11 months

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I have a songrec!!!! I've never done this before lol. Idk if it fits the playlist vibes even a little bit, but The Horror and The Wild by The Amazing Devil is so jinx and silco that the chorus is literally

"Think of all the horrors that I promised you I'd bring

I promise you, they'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me, old man, I am the wild"

And the first line is you were raised by wolves and voices

The lyrics are so abstract and dreamlike and sort of esoteric that it's like it was just made for their whole convoluted, enmeshed thing . I'm pretty sure the premise of the song is that a couple is pouring their hearts out to one another about their messy childhoods and parental exceptions etc but it fits equally well for a dialogue between a parent and child too I think. I could go on and on because I have brain rot about this song + them but yk

In that vein, another song from that album, 'The rockrose and the thistle' feels specifically like early FnF jinx and silco, as the narrator of the song is trying to reach out to someone who is deeply mentally unwell, and the nuances of that song just have me in a chokehold. The music itself is so desperate and unsettling, and so unlike the almost triumphant tone of the other one and yeah yep that's the song rec,,,, wheee

These are all such beautiful songrecs, and truly fit this awful duo so well<3

you were raised by wolves and voices is such a perfect summation of Jinx - especially her persona post-timeskip.

Thank you so much for sharing! Instant adds to the playlist<3

#arcane silco #silco #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane jinx #jinx #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo

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galactic-pirates · 2 years

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10, 24 and or 25?

Wheee thank you for the ask! :)

10) Do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time? Well in an ideal world I just work on one. I find that works better for me as I feel like I'm making more progress as I get more done in a shorter space of time. Buuuuut in reality I have a LOT of things going on. Sometimes I don't know whether I should call them WIPs or not as how much work does one need to do on them before they qualify? or how frequently does one need to work on them? But yeah tons of projects in varying states of development /sigh.

24) How do you choose whose POV to write in? Instinct. I don't actively think about it very often it is just natural. I have developed this a little over time. I used to headhop and an editor I hired told me that wasn't good practice. Now it doesn't bother me when I read (apart from the fact that I notice due to the aforementioned comment). But as I hope to publish one day I trained myself out of it. So occasionally I will come to a point and be like "ok I'm in X's head, but I really want to be in Y" and then I have to decide whether to do a scene break, or just have Y reflect on what happened later etc.

25) What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)? Being done? Haha. Seriously I joke sometimes that I "don't want to do, I want to be done" but I think that's due to the length of my list. I want those stories to exist but /sigh that means I actually have to write them. Don't get me wrong I do enjoy writing or I wouldn't do it but it can be a slog sometimes. Anyway I guess the real answer would probably be the ideas process so outlining etc. as that's when it is all tantalising potential. It's when I try and make it a real thing that exists and I come back to the ground with a bump that I get frustrated or upset about my writing ability. I have this thing about "never being good enough" and it's a battle I have to fight everytime I want to create something. Which is probably another reason why I want to be done rather than do haha.

#ussjellyfish #I answer things #sam talks writing

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subway-tolkien · 1 year

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For the fanfiction writing asks: 14, 15, 24, 42, & 51. Thank.

WHEEE long-overdue asks from this post! Thank you, @northwestern-airfield!

14. What is your favorite location and position to write in?

I’m usually in my own bed, propped up on pillows, with one or two cats nearby. I also tend to curl up like a potato bug, lol. Sitting up at a desk is somehow too distracting? I’m not sure why. I can and have written at desks but I prefer being on my side in bed with a blanket over my legs.

15. What’s your favorite time to write?

I’m a night owl so I’m usually up writing after midnight, unless the ol’ ADHD kicks in and I end up writing from dawn to dusk, which has happened before!

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

It depends on whatever plot idea I come up with. Most of the time, and this sounds bonkers, I know, but the character will tell me if I’m telling their story. When I can’t decide, I do alternating POVs. There’s one Check Please! fic of mine that was actually supposed to be a Yuri On Ice fic, but I couldn’t make it work until I switched fandoms and found the right character whose personality better fit the plot. So like I said, the character knows before I do, lol.

And I never write in first person. Nails on a chalkboard unless it's done right.

42. What’s your favorite title that you’ve come up with?

I love and hate coming up with titles and I have a rule: it always has to make its way into the fic or directly reference the plot. I think my favorite title has to be my Yuri On Ice fic, The Blessing Repaid, which I think is an original phrase rather than a song lyric I nicked from elsewhere. It does appear in the story. (PS: I love that little fic, I wish it’d gotten better traction.)

51. Does what you like to write differ from what you like to read?

Not usually. I write what I like to read, so character-driven stories with happy endings. I’m not big on angst-for-angst’s-sake, or anything that requires AO3 archive warnings. I do like reading spicy scenes sometimes but I skim them often enough that I don’t really feature them in my works. So basically, I write fic I like (and I do go back and read my own stuff when AO3 fails me).

#fanfiction asks #northwestern-airfield

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monstermaster13 · 1 year

Text

Corey and Oats in…It’s Okay To Be Afraid.

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

I think even the bravest of humans, animals or even microbes can attest to how horrifying it can be to be in dark spaces especially if you have a fear of the dark. Corey and Oats were having a nice peaceful sleep with their companion Mel one night and listening to the classical music station, drifting off and having a nice rest and having sweet dreams, of course their bedroom in the Nile Road house was very warm and soft and pink, and now adorned with a fabulous pegasus blanket. The duo slept soundly with a few guests, mainly a secondary microbe that had joined them such as Eggna or Barry Booger and Trump Cat. Trump Cat was becoming quite popular at the house.

But the bed was more than just beautiful, when night came around and when they drifted off to sleep the bed would fly and take them on fantastic adventures during the night. Right now, the duo and Trump-cat were in the bed and the bed was in the form of a rollercoaster ride and they were all at a theme park. Corey held on as the bed went through several loops and tunnels, the group cheered as it took off. ‘Wheee! This is fun.’ ‘Yeah, night-time adventures are the best’ ‘I agree.’

Trump Cat carefully listened to the safety instructions as the group had fun in the rollercoaster their bed had morphed into, Oats whinnied happily as he had never had such fun. But just as the ride was about to end, the group was interrupted and taken out of the dream world…’What’s going on, mommy?’ Oats whimpered, looking over at Mel. The radio the group had listened to suddenly turned itself off along with the nightlight and the microbes all panicked.

“The power has gone out…”

“What do we do?”

“Nobody panic, we can do this.”

Oats felt really afraid as he looked around, he panicked as he felt something emerging from underneath the bed as the bed suddenly turned into a twisted monster bed. ‘Somebody call Ysa or Andrea.’ ‘I don’t know if we can, they’re asleep.’ ‘Oh shoot.’ Corey murmured to himself, the duo struggled to try and get back to sleep but they couldn’t because of all the shadowy dancers and ghostly beings haunting them.

Corey tried to go and find a torch but there wasn’t one, luckily though he found one in the magic bedbox and used it to navigate around, he left the bedroom and headed down the hallway to the bathroom to investigate further, Corey felt a chill done his spine as he sensed the presence of a horrifying monster, although it was worse than a monster it was his evil cousin Omi the omnicron microbe. ‘You have failed as a virus, Corey…you went soft. And now I shall succeed where you have failed.’ ‘You don’t scare me Omi.’

Omi laughed evilly as he unleashed an army of possessed blood cell minions after his cousin, but Corey was able to fight them off easily. Meanwhile Oatsie was shaking and shivering in his room as he was having nightmarish visions of demon ponies that floated around him, one nightmarish vision seemed to be coming true right before his eyes.

He examined his night-dress and looked at it, just in time to see it change into a red dress with a white shawl..he recognized this type of dress, this was the same dress that the title character wore in Rosemary’s Baby and he found himself in a reenactment of the movie, acting out the character’s situation and even dancing with an anthro demon horse. He saw a pram with an anthro foal inside and he cooed in a sweet manner at the foal before picking him up, he whinnied in horror when he saw what the foal had…the foal possessed black eyes with deep red irises. ‘What have you done to his eyes? What have you done to his eyes?’

“Mommy…mommy!’ ‘I’m not your mommy!’ Oats backed away, whinnying and wanting it all to go away, feeling afraid, then he awoke from that vision and sighed. ‘Phew, what a nightmare that was.’ He then saw the demon foal staring at him next to him on the bed…’Noo, this is no dream, this is really happening!’ Luckily Corey heard this and he came to Oats’s rescue and comforted him as did Mel, Mel hugged him.

Oats didn’t feel so scared after that and used his special magical abilities to create a shining light as they met in the bathroom to work out a plan, Oats found a magical torch which he gave to Corey as they made their way through the bathroom and down the hallway back into the bedroom, Trump Cat was also fitting off shadow monsters and monster versions of himself that he saw through the reflection in the mirror. Upon reaching the bedroom the duo tossed Mel a spare torch and they waited, they didn’t have to wait long for the power to come back and once the power came back on, they hopped in the bed and snuggled up as the classic musical station turned on.

“Yaaaaay, our favorite music is back.”

“Yes, look how it soothes our monsterfied bed.”

The bed that had turned into a monster bed settled down as it turned back into in his normal form before turning into a lovely boat as the two drifted off to sleep along with Mel, and for the rest of the night they had a good night’s sleep and happy pink dreams, as the magical bed took the duo on a lovely boat ride that took them all the way to Oats’s dream palace. Oats smiled as he showed Corey his dream palace that had a pink theme to it. ‘There we go. All better.’

“Good night Corey.”

“Good night Oats.”

‘Good night Mel..’ the duo said in unison as they slept and had lovely dreams of their pink palace adventure and Trump-Cat rested peacefully that night too, and they all slept well and were all well rested,the terrors of the night faded away and the duo slept rather well, the next morning the duo got up and were all smiley and happy as they got out of the magical bed and Mel turned on her computer.

“Good morning Mel.”

“Good morning Corey, good morning Oats.”

‘Did you sleep well, mommy?’ Oats asked. ‘Yes, I did…how about you?’ Corey winked as he replied…’Yes, thanks to working together as a team.’ And thus with that the group all hugged eachother and got ready for the day.

“I gotta admit it was a little scary last night.”

“Yeah but luckily we made it through the night together.”

“That’s alright, it’s alright to be scared.”

Remember, it’s alright to be afraid, not everyone is brave in the face of fear, remember whenever there is darkness there is a guiding light to help you see it through, if you work together there is nothing you can’t accomplish.

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arminsumi · 9 months

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hey if ur up for it could u write promt 8 of friends to lovers for armin.. but like the reader teaches him how to kiss bc she really wants an excuse to finally kiss him? hehe

KISSING ON THE COUCH.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン ⋅ fem reader

8 — "I'll teach you to kiss."

NOTE: wheee!! i'm ngl this prompt was made with armin in mind hehe 💗

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.7k

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

"Ah, yeah, I mean, kissing is a core part of romance for most people, right? But there's no way I can do that."

Armin's chatting with you in the living room of your parent's house, just like you've always done since you were kids.

"Why? Kissing is pretty fun." you look over at him, drifting from the interleading kitchen over to where he sits slacked on the couch.

He mutters a quick and sweetly Armin-esque thank you under his breath when you hand him a soda. Vanilla Cola, his all-time favorite; he's drank it since he was twelve and didn't intend to stop drinking it.

"But kissing is awkward... you know how my first kiss went." he grimaces at the memory. You let out a breathy laugh, he looks so cute, almost like a drawing of a cute boy rather than a real one.

"Personally, I wouldn't count that as a first kiss. You were, like, what? Thirteen?" you open your own soda with a pop. It fizzes loudly, the bubbles audibly popping.

He opens his own soda, but of course — he does it in such an Armin kind of way. Very delicately pulling the tab back with his very delicate fingertips, as if the metal hurt his sensitive skin. You know he had the worst acne phase out of all your friends, there are faded scars on his cheeks. Rather than mar his beauty, you think they add to it; of course he never believed you when you said that.

"I think I was fourteen. Didn't you have yours when you were — eighteen? Right?" he looks over at you, fingertip circling the soda can lid.

His eyes always get you. They're entrancing. Hypnotizing. Spellbinding. Armin's unaware of the effect he has on girls, but that just makes him even more attractive.

"I did, yes. No need to remind me." you grumble, taking another sip of your soda and coming to a kneel at the coffee table.

You two always sat like that; him lazily on the couch, you on the plush carpet by the coffee table. Always propping your elbow on it, squishing your cheek on one palm. In the middle of a conversation, Armin would mimic your pose just to get a laugh out of you.

"Eighteen isn't too old to have your first kiss. I've told you that before." he reassures.

"Yes it is! Some people have their first kiss when they're little kids."

"But those kisses don't mean anything. They're childish kisses." Armin says.

"What age d'you think people start having adult kisses?" you ask him curiously, setting your soda down on the table.

You watch as Armin looks up in thought for a moment, his hand swiftly wiping some residual soda liquid off his upper lip. How does he make everything so attractive? In fleeting moments like these, you felt a strong urge to kiss him.

I could kiss him. I just need a plan. We're on the subject of kissing already.

You plot your moves like you're playing chess. It really isn't that difficult, but to you it feels like an impossible match.

"I think, adult kisses — eh that's a weird way of saying it — good kisses are after you're eighteen. Or maybe when you've had enough practice? But never mind, I think all the kisses I'll ever have will always be slightly awkward because I don't know what to do." he says.

He glances at you. His heart pangs when you and him make electric eye contact and he looks away. "You know..." he begins, but you cut him off.

"Why don't I teach you to kiss a girl?" you blurt out. "I mean, we're friends. Why not. I mean if you want to. Just a thought..."

He cracks a shy smile, "Just a thought?" he chuckles, then sits up and sets his soda down after a brief moment of thought.

"Alright, teach me." he asks and pats the seat next to him.

You climb up on the couch and settle down into a comfy position next to him — oh, you're very close, he thinks. The proximity makes his heart pang again, he can feel it sharp in his chest. But why? I mean, like you said, you're friends.

Do friends sit on the couch practicing kissing?

"Don't look at me like that." you tease lightly.

He blinks at you, "Like what? Oh, sorry." he giggle and widens his eyes a little. You've scolded him for having bedroom eyes many times, and he's defended that it's not bedroom eyes but rather he just has naturally lidded, sultry eyes.

"So... question." he asks as you lean in. His breath fans your face, it makes your lips tingle. You can smell the Vanilla Cola.

"Hm?"

"Where do I put my hands? Because that's something I've never really understood..."

"Oh... well you can put them anywhere you like."

"Can you guide me?" he asks.

You look at him for a moment. His heart goes wild when you take his hands in yours. Yes you and him have held hands, plenty of times in fact, when you walk around town or when you run down the school corridors or while you explore abandoned buildings.

"Personally... I would want your hands here." you tell him, placing them on your neck, "And if you'd cup the back of my neck like — yeah, like that..."

Was it getting stuffy in here? But there's a good breeze coming in through the open window. Yet you feel like you're choking up. It seems like he is, too.

Warm hands cupping the back of your neck, gentle fingers holding you like a trophy, two big blue eyes staring into your soul.

He pulls you in for a peck. A sweetly awkward one. Your noses bump. Well, now both of you can't stop smiling which makes it hard to do anything.

You lean in for a peck, but it lasts longer than his and — oh my god, he melts. It's history from there. Feeling his best friend's lips sent him to another dimension, as dramatic as that sounds.

He's levitating when you keep pressing teaching kisses to his lips. He loves that you take your time, like you're savoring the taste just like when you sip on your soda.

"Y-you can tilt your head, too, it makes it feel better..." you tell him, a little short of breath.

His head spins a bit at the sensation. His lips are tingly.

"Okay..."

So he tilts his head into the kiss, and holds the back of your neck and slides one hand down and finds your hand. He holds it.

He breaks from the kiss, lips hovering hot over yours, and looks at you through his lashes. "Is this good?"

"Mhm. Really good. You're doing g-good." you assure him.

"Can I keep going?" he asks.

"Yeah..."

So he keeps kissing you, gliding his lips over yours slowly. If anything, he only gets slower. He's really trying to savor it. Like he savors the taste of Vanilla Cola.

Minutes go by, though time dissolved in your minds by now. It was just another meaningless concept. Did past and future exist? Well, did it matter while kissing? No. No it didn't.

You pull away. He blinks and sucks in a breath, bangs lightly ruffled from pressing so close to your forehead. He can taste you on his lips, on his tongue, you're pervading his whole system and he loves it.

"S-so... that's... yeah... any questions?" you laugh, regaining composure quicker than him.

"Huh? What — questions? Yeah... can we do that again?" he asks eagerly.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"I just meant... like... keep teaching me. I think I can learn a lot from those lips." he backtracks nervously, Addam's apple shifting a little when he swallows sharply.

"Oh, right... well... y-yeah. Let's keep going then. Why don't you try kissing me now — mmf."

He goes in for it without hesitation. He kisses with his whole body, you can feel a surge of his passion wash over you, and he can feel a surge of tingles across his brain.

There's a lot of serotonin to be farmed from your kisses.

Light smacking sounds, subtle saliva sounds, lips on lips. He's never enjoyed kissing like this. But it's just practice. You're just teaching him so he can kiss... who? Who does he want to kiss? He doesn't have anyone in mind other than you.

He gets lost in it, and without thinking much he nibbles your bottom lip and swipes his tongue across it. You let him poke his tongue in and — well both of you melt harder than before. It's so impossibly soft. No wonder people praised French kissing. But did they ever get French kissed by such a gentle sweetheart like Armin? You were the only one to have that honor.

"Hah... sorry." he pulls away, breathless.

You pant very lightly, " 's okay..." you smile, "I don't mind if you... use tongue. I like it a lot..."

"Okay..." he gulps and then goes right back in to continue.

Weren't you supposed to be teaching him? It feels like that's not necessary, since both of your lips mold together perfectly. You and him are two matching puzzles pieces.

"Y/n?" he breaks from the kiss and looks down at you, hands gently squeezing both your hands now.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

He slightly smirks, lips glistening with your saliva, "Did you really wanna educate me on kissing, or did you just wanna kiss me?" he asks. Damn that sharp intuition.

"If the latter, how would you feel about that...?" you ask tentatively.

His heart thumps. Throbs. Palpitates. Malfunctions. You look so sweet, he wants to kiss you again and again.

He doesn't answer with words, he just dives back in for a feathery kiss, tangling his body with yours. Hands cupping your cheeks, in a very indescribably Armin kind of way.

He speaks in between each smooch.

" 'shoulda — kissed me — sooner." he mutters, taking a deep inhale as he kisses you harder than before, leaning into your body, cupping your cheeks so comfortably.

#♥️ 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン #fluff #armin #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin fluff #prompts #armin aot #shingeki no kyojin #fic #fanfic #aot fanfic #aot x reader #armin x fem reader

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anythingwriter · 3 years

Text

Best friend Series (1/?)

Fucking Gypsies

Alfie Soloms x Bestfriend!Reader

Warnings: Language, it’s Alfie guys, what do you expect

Word Count: 905

Requested: No but dedicated to @itsumainnit

Summary: Your best friend Alfie is talking shit about the Gold Gypsies, but little does he know, his best friend is one herself.

a/n: a series about mini one-shots with best friend Alfie Solomons?! I think so!!

***************************************

You were sitting in Alfies obnoxiously large chair behind his obnoxiously large desk, waiting for him to come and rant about Thomas Shelby. He had taken a trip to Small Heath to meet the one and only Bonnie Gold and you just knew he was going to be in a pissy mood.

You could hear his loud arse all the way down the hall, yelling at his poor workers for no reason. You could already see Ollie pissing himself at Alfies outbursts.

Leaning forward in the chair you counted down until the door would burst open, “Three, two, one..” The door to his office flung against the wall, and there stood a seething Alfie. He didn’t even acknowledge you, he walked around his desk and grabbed the back of his your chair and titled it forward, you letting out a gasp as you face planted on the floor. A shooting pain erupted in your nose and you whined, rolling over to sit up.

You glared at Alfie while all he did was chug his drink, “What the fuck Alfie?! That shit hurt!”

He looked down at you and just giggled like a child, “Dumbass”

You gasped, and over exaggerated putting your hand against your heart, “Ouch, that one hurt.” Ollie just rolled his eyes, being used to y’all’s child like antics. Alfie sighed and grumpily got up from his chair and grabbed you under your armpits and picked you up, you letting out a “wheee” in the process which made Alfie roll his eyes. He sat down on his chair and seated you in his lap. You smiled triumphantly.

Leaning back you flicked him in his head,“What’s going on in that big head of yours Alf?” He just grumbled in response. You leaned your head back even farther and as loud as possible, “I DIDN’T HEAR YOUUUU.” In the corner Ollie winced, surely all of London hear you.

Alfie, again, threw you off and onto the floor, you just sat there at this point. He shouted right back at you, “THE FUCKING GOLDS!”

You sat there with your legs crossed and just stared at Alf, waiting for a better explanation. He didn’t give you one. The Golds though? You expected his lover boy Tommy would have done something.

You waved your hands in front of your face, trying to prove a point, “Okay... the Golds. What about them?”

He got up from his chair and sat across from you on the floor, pouting like a child, “H-he didn’t know who I was.” You looked at him in disbelief before letting out a loud roar of laughter. Alfies mouth was agape, whatever he was expecting you to do, it was not laughing at him. Ollie was still in the corner and now he was trying to muffle his own laughter.

You fell to your side clutching your stomach from laughing so hard and Alfie had enough, “I’m serious pet! Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck is he?! Fuck Gypsies and their stupid ass culture and heathen ways!”

Heathens. You hated that word. Growing up as a gypsy yourself you dealt with the hate other people had for you on a daily basis. But then you met Alfie, who knew nothing of your past life and you decided to stay. Never had you made a friendship so quick and amazing like this. You were not about to lose it, and Alfies hatred for the gypsies was clear, so you just never told him.

Alfie had stopped his rant and furrowed his brows at your sudden quietness. You looked lost. But where had you gone? He slowly reached for you, not knowing what you would do. When he touched your shoulder he pulled his hand back when you flinched, what had he done?

“Pet...?”

You weren’t even thinking straight, the word heathen floating through your head like a mantra, without hesitating you blurted out, “I’m a gypsy.”

For Alfie the world stopped turning, you, his lovable nitwit of a best friend, was a gypsy. There was no way. Now it was Alfies turn to laugh.

Your eyes cut over to him, did you make a mistake? Oh no, what did you do?!

Wiping away a tear from his cheek, Alfie had finally caught his breath. “Nice one pet, truly a comedian.” He gave you a round of applause.

His hands came to a slow stop when he looked at you and saw tears welling up in your eyes, were you serious?

“Oh, oh your serious? Pet? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He... he didn’t seem mad?

You wiped your eyes and sniffled, “You’re.. you’re not mad?”

He looked at you like you were crazy, “Mad? Why would I be mad? I love you, you’re my best friend love.”

“But.. but I’m a gypsy. You hate Gypsies.”

Alfie pulled you in his chest, you both still sitting on the floor, and stroked your hair while tears soaked his shirt.

“Oh honey, I don’t like Gypsies that cause me trouble. I will always love you pet.”

****************************************

Okay so Ik this sucked but I’m still excited for my series!!!! It’s not going to be regular updates, it’s more of something for in between stories and stuff.

Have a great day sugars!

@shadowfoxey @nothingleftthaticando @elenavampire21

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders x y/n

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

Title: Besyd the scarcety of bread amowngst us

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Crowley/Dean Winchester

Summary: In which Dean asks a question.

Warnings: Crowley being Extremely traumatized and kind of oblivious to that fact + SPN demons being SPN demons (i.e. remorseless bodysnatchers) + Dean being his casually misogynistic self + graphic descriptions of starvation + exhibitionism (sorta?) + sexually explicit content because this was MEANT to be straightforward smut and then Crowley happened, the prick.

Also on AO3!

“So how come you aren’t a hot chick?”

The glass stills an inch from Crowley’s pale lips. “I humbly beg your pardon?”

It’s late. The bar’s quiet. He doesn’t need Dean to repeat himself. Just a moment to decide on a response.

Well on the way to utterly shit-faced, Dean gestures vaguely, meaninglessly. “You offer people stuff. Then, ten years later, you drag ‘em to Hell. And – and they know that’s what’s gonna happen if they make a deal with you. Which means that you gotta be real fuckin’ persuasive. Which you are. Grade A Bullshit Artist and don’t I know it. But... uh, what was I gonna… yeah, wouldn’t it be easier, right, just way easier if you were a hot chick?”

Crowley can tell he’s not done, so he keeps his silver tongue behind his faintly yellowed teeth for the moment.

While Dean is usually delightful company, in his surly, macho way, this evening there’s an uncommonly obnoxious edge to everything he says. That almost certainly means his insecurities over what he’s been letting Crowley do to his arse lately are acting up.

Understandable. Still annoying.

So Crowley’s more than willing to let his favourite human dig himself a wee bit deeper before pouring boiling tar into the pit.

After quickly throwing back the last of his drink, Dean goes on: “Now, I didn’t go to some dickslurp business school. I ain’t that brand of asshole. But I’ve seen enough beer ads in my time to have an idea of how marketing works. You got something you want people to buy? Fastest way is to get a hot chick in a bikini to hold it up. Because guys have most of the money in this shitty world of ours and guys think with their dicks. I know I do. So why did you decide to possess someone who looks like a balding, middle-aged banker going through a stressful divorce? That ain’t enticing. That ain’t capturing anyone’s interest. Y’know?”

“Mm,” says Crowley, and stands up.

“Fuck’re you doing?” Dean slurs, watching him take off his tie.

“Ever heard of the Seven Ill Years, Squirrel?”

“Nope. Seriously, what’re you doing?”

Draping his overcoat over the back of his chair along with his tie, Crowley sets about taking off his jacket. “‘The Seven Ill Years’ refers to a particularly shitty time in early modern Scotland; the 1690s.”

He tugs off his costly leather shoes and places them side-by-side under his chair. “I was in my… early thirties at the time, I think. Thirty-two? Maybe thirty-one. Whatever.”

Dean is gaping now. He’s never seen Crowley without his outer layers, much less the growing slice of exposed chest as Crowley unbuttons his shirt.

“For a lot of complicated reasons relating to oceanic thermohaline circulation, solar activity, and a few ill-timed volcanos, the weather turned rotten. These days, it’s called the Little Ice Age. Us pigshit stupid peasants who lived through it didn’t know anything about all that. All we knew was that it was freezing bloody cold and the crops kept dying.”

“Dude,” Dean hisses, red-faced as Crowley sets his shirt alongside his jacket and overcoat. “Stop it! We’re going to be thrown out!”

“No. Look around. Is anyone paying attention to us? Precisely. We’re invisible to them at the moment, Squirrel. One of my little tricks.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good. But that’s still not an excuse to take your fucking pants off in public oh my God oh my God!”

They’re expensive pants and Crowley takes care to fold them before putting them down. “To cut a long story short; famine struck. And famine, it’s…”

Crowley pauses, thinking, ignoring Dean’s pathetic attempts not to gawk at his dick.

“It’s hard to describe famine to someone who hasn’t lived through one,” he says eventually. “Language – English, at least – isn’t equipped to convey what it feels like to be so hungry you’ll try to boil and eat someone else’s shoes. Then someone else’s children. Then your own children. There are no words for it. Or, if in some distant corner of our monstrous universe there are, then they’re words that would drive a human raving mad to speak them.”

Naked now but for his black socks, Crowley scratches his stubble. “Sometimes I think that’s why I got on so well in Hell.”

He sits back in his chair. Folds his legs. Taps his fingers on the side of his empty glass. “Don’t get me wrong; having someone cut open your lungs, fill them with scorpions, and sew them up again isn’t fun. But – how can I put this? – you can process it. You can grapple with it. You know why you’re suffering; because you’re in Hell, and that’s what Hell is for. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is going about your everyday life and watching all the people around you – the baker, the priest, the prettiest girl in the village – go about theirs while they turn into walking skeletons. And knowing they didn’t do anything to deserve it. Couldn’t have done anything to deserve it, because no crime, no matter how vile, warrants that kind of punishment.”

Dean says nothing.

After a moment, Crowley pulls himself from the dark, sucking well of memory to add, “Anyway, to answer your question; I don’t want to be a hot chick because a. I’m a man and b. hot chicks are skinny, and I will cheerfully burn this world to the ground before I endure living in a hungry body ever again.”

He glances down at his unclothed meat suit and smiles proudly, running a hand up one of its thick thighs. “Also – y’know – I personally think this long-deceased lad of mine is sexy as Hell.”

Gazing at his shoulder, Dean says roughly, “Didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Oh. Those. Yeah. Can’t stand them. Worst decision the stupid bastard ever made.”

“I think they’re kinda cool.”

“Do you? Well, you do have incredibly bad taste so perhaps that’s not surprising. Now, are you going to get over here and put that erection to good use?”

Oh, bless him; he’s adorable when he squirms.

“Here?” Dean asks, eyes wide.

“Here.”

He says it like a challenge, for Dean can never resist one of those. Immediately, those wide eyes become narrow and determined.

The boy stands. Looms over Crowley, who casually flicks both their glasses to the floor and moves to sit on the cool wooden table. It’s clean, more or less, thanks to Dean (for once) agreeing to follow Crowley to a semi-respectable establishment.

“These hands,” Crowley murmurs, running them across Dean’s broad chest, “don’t have a single callous or scar. See? Soft as butter. Not a single day’s honest work, either of them.”

Dean swallows. Leans in to kiss him, hesitant and gentle.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley likes gentle. Or, more accurately, Crowley likes being pampered.

He goes on: “And these legs…”

A groan escapes Dean’s lips as one presses up against his crotch.

“…these legs haven’t walked more than ten miles, collectively, since I moved in. No muscles. No blisters on the undersides of their feet. Not so much as a splinter.”

“Jesus,” Dean mumbles, drawing him in and latching onto his neck.

“And this stomach is never empty. Never even close. Never once forced to digest anything that isn’t purely, perfectly delicious. I treat my meat suits better than most people treat their family heirlooms.”

“Crowley. Fuck.”

He squeezes Dean’s arse and growls, “Because this is my reward, Dean. I won this. This softness, this safety. This nurtured, nourished flesh. I endured the seventeenth century and all humanity’s horrors. Endured my mother. Endured Hell. Built myself a reputation and a kingdom. All for this. And isn’t it wonderful? Say that it is, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean moans, even though he can’t understand a word; Crowley slipped into Gaelic a while ago.

(The things Crowley wants to tell Dean and the things Crowley wants Dean to know are categories that rarely overlap.)

Crowley takes Dean’s leaking cock in hand.

“Say I’m beautiful.”

Dean’s knees buckle as he whimpers, so Crowley wraps an arm around his narrow, underfed waist.

“Say you love me.”

Dean comes in his palm, gasping and cursing.

“Say you love me more than anyone else.”

“I’m guessing that was all Scottish dirty talk?” says Dean when he has his breath back. “You were – what? Calling me your bitch?”

Crowley smirks, licks the sweat off Dean’s jaw, and gives his backside a pat before reaching for his clothes. “None of your business. Go get me another drink, would you? Ta.”

the end

NOTES: The title is taken from a quote found in Karen Cullen’s ‘Famine in Scotland: the ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s’ (you can find extracts via googlebooks). Yes, canonically Crowley WOULD have been about thirty when this happened. Just in case his origin story wasn’t horrific enough wheee :D

#drowley #dean winchester #crowley #supernatural #spn crowley #my fic

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steadfastmockingbird · 6 months

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Quality over quantity.

I have a head full of thoughts, most of them angry in a pathetic, I-am-currently-anemic kind of way. Rambling suicide prevention talk below, about someone else's future actions, not mine.

My thoughts are angry because I will almost definitely lose a person close to me to suicide eventually. I've promised I won't try to stop him when the time comes - he has multiple agonizing and life limiting conditions, and getting decent care won't happen any time soon. You can blue sky all you want about fixing the system in the future and how one day it'll all be perfect, but that doesn't change the reality for people suffering right fucking now. They have breaking points. Anyway. When he chooses to go I won't be calling the cops to re-break his spine on the way to psych incarceration or crying down the phone that this is soooo unfair to me and how dare he make me suffer.

I'm angry because so many attempts at suicide prevention look like that. So much of it is a phone call to have the inconvenience dragged away or 'don't be so SELFISH and hurt the other people in your life by dying' when actually, if I forced him to stick around, I'd be the selfish one forcing him to endure that level of pain and what doctors often euphemistically call 'SLS' - 'shit life syndrome'. I refuse to make him suffer for something I'll get over. I'll survive the grief; in a few months 95% of the agony will be gone and the 30 or so years I have before lithium shreds my kidneys for good will be more or less okay. The gradual fuckening of his body has been happening for decades already. He's tired and done, and if he's forced to live another decade against his will it will be in constant fucking agony.

I'm angry because as someone who has made sincere attempts to kill myself, what stopped me was not the police at my door or well meaning empty gestures like 'talk to me any time!' from people who called the authorities when I went to them for help.

What stopped me was a package in the mail containing a band shirt, a book and some yarn. I had to finish the book, you see, and find a use for the yarn. What stopped me was getting care for a condition (dysphoria, wheee) I didn't even have the words to describe at the time. The most someone has ever, ever done was telling me the name of the demon at my heels. What stopped me was community; a dear friend saying to me what I say now to the person I'm likely to lose. What that friend said was 'I don't care how long you live. I want you to live well while you're here. Quality over quantity.' He gave me the cash to buy my first binder as he said that. It fell to rags a decade or so ago but I've never forgotten.

That's in my head every time I talk to the loved one I'll eventually lose. Focusing on the quality of his life has done more to prevent his death than a thousand lectures about selfishness or taking the coward's way out or how much other people will be hurt. Definitely more than any psych ward stays. When people have little comforts and things that bring them joy and can take care of themselves and feel valued and supported by those around them they're far less likely to end themselves than the person who hears an empty 'my door is always open' knowing that the door will be slammed shut, locked, and alarmed when they actually ask for help.

I sent him a mug with two handles a month or so back. Trawled Etsy for one that looked like an actual mug for grown ups, instead of a bigger version of a plastic toddler sippy cup. One of his conditions limits the strength and use in his arms and shoulders, but a cup of good coffee is one of his big joys in life. I want him to have that joy for as long as possible. In the past I've sent him a space heater, so that he can have more comfortable showers. Thick socks, so that the Massachusetts winter doesn't cause him as much pain. Gluten-free Jaffa cakes and English chocolate, because Hersheys is a crime even when you're not already suffering and gluten is his arch nemesis.

And I'm angry because it's not enough. I can't fix him. I feel powerless and frustrated because I will lose him eventually. It sounds cynical to say I've bought myself an extra few years with him by refusing to give up and trying to make sure he's at least comfortable, but that's how it feels. I spend time trawling the internet for two handled mugs because I am selfish, and I'm not willing to give up on him yet, but if I'm asking him to stay I should at least be minimizing his suffering.

If I fly out for his funeral, and there are people all around lamenting that they should have done more, but they didn't even take the time to make sure they had food he could safely eat when he visited... it won't be the fucking dead I'll be speaking ill of.

#cw sui mention #angry thoughts #suicide prevention #rant rant rant

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bearseokie · 4 years

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got7 as ghost hunters

got7 m.list | navi.

Mark:

doesn’t know what’s happening most of the time

still questions everything

“I heard a noise over there, let’s go check it out”

holds the camera

fixes broken equipment

“I’m not scared of you” “you will be” “I just said I’m not scared”

walks away from the group, gets found on the other side of the location with a bunch of evidence and a funny story to tell

gets tapped on the shoulder, bolts

tells ghosts he’ll come back, he never does

“that’s a wrap” “you rap?”

Jaebum:

stands idle in one area the entire time, has to be pulled around

intimidates the ghost until he hears a noise, then he shuts up

refuses to go somewhere alone, but will walk into the scariest place first to make the others feel safer

“there’s a cold spot right here” immediately puts his hand in it

asks to leave the second they arrive

“I died” “okay but what kind of music do you like?”

gets hit on by almost every spirit

devices drain in battery just so the spirits can try to touch him

runs during solos, then fixes himself up before he meets back up with the group so they don’t think he was scared

“stop messing with me” “don’t leave" leaves instantly

Jinyoung:

highkey scares the ghosts themselves

got possessed once, the demon regretted it immediately

gets the most interactions with kid spirits

had a female ghost flirt with him, he rejected her

"stop following me” “sorry”

leaves the group to get food because he’s bored

every device spikes when he holds it

“bye” “I’m not done talking to you yet, come back” “okay”

will stomp around to anger the spirits

can do an entire solo without showing emotion

“please help” “hell do you want me to do?”

threatens to banish anything that tries to attach to him, so nothing ever does

Jackson:

runs screaming at least once at every location

laughs when the spirit box doesn’t make sense

“can you see me?” “yes” “do I look handsome today?”

heard a ghost cough, asked if it wanted a warm cough drop. it said no

beatboxes when nervous during solos

skips through empty areas

“give me a break!” “no” “yyaHHhh”

always has to sleep at the location in a secluded area where he just sits up all night and looks around as if he has night-vision

“I’m a friendly guy”

pretends to not be excited when leaving because he knows the spirits are stuck there

Youngjae:

cries all the time

jumps ten feet in the air when startled

can get down multiple flights of steps in seconds if scared enough

vibrates in fear when they do spirit box sessions

“hold my hand”

when asked to do a solo, he will aggressively play a game of rock, paper, scissors to get out of it

“aaahhhHHHHHH”

screams back when a scream comes from the spirit box

salt circle salt circle and one more salt circle

“I’m leaving now” “stay with us” is already running out the door

BamBam:

taunts the ghosts and demons

sees the most apparitions, gets chased by them every time

got an attachment, annoyed it so much it literally asked for him to take it back to where it came from

gets forced into a solo every time, talks to the air until he gets to go back to the group

hears noises coming from the spirit box, “this beat is sick”

wears a bunch of crystals for protection and for outfit purposes

flirts with the spirits

furniture shakes under him all the time, says “wheee” until it stops

“I’m going into the next room, I hope nothing follows me” “we aren’t”

“aight time to head out” screams until he gets miles away

Yugyeom:

gets scared all the time, doesn’t show it

“anyone there?” “hello” “do you want to talk about your day?”

made a demon feel guilty once

gets pinched a lot, thinks it’s hot

runs around high-fiving the top of the doorframes, almost takes down old buildings doing this

howls for no reason when they’re at outdoor locations

lead a spirit back to its grave once, it thanked him by showing up on a thermal device and waved at him

befriends spirits

a demon asked him to be his boyfriend, he kindly declined and got possessed. this was the demon that he made feel guilty

“are you leaving?” “I guess I could chill for another hour”

#got7 #got7 au #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #mark tuan #jaebeom #jaebum #jinyoung #jackson wang #youngjae #bambam #yugyeom #got7 fic #got7.headcanon

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