Slow Burn But It's Written By An Impatient Person

Writing about a child rapist did not make Vladimir Nabokov a child rapist.

Writing about an authoritarian theocracy did not make Margaret Atwood an authoritarian theocrat.

Writing about adultery did not make Leo Tolstoy an adulterer.

Writing about a ghost did not make Toni Morrison a ghost.

Writing about a murderer did not make Fyodor Dostoevsky a murderer.

Writing about a teenage addict did not make Isabel Allende a teenage addict.

Writing about dragons and ice zombies did not make George R.R. Martin either of those things.

Writing about rich heiresses, socially awkward bachelors, and cougar widows did not make Jane Austen any of those things.

Writing about people who can control earthquakes did not make N.K. Jemisin able to control earthquakes.

Writing about your favorite characters and/or ships in situations that you choose does not make you a bad person.

It’s a shame that in this day and age these things need to be said.

This idea isn't mine, I couldn't copy the link. User is anonymous. Keith gaining a weight from all of Hunks cooking and baking. He's really embarrassed at first but Hunk is in love with his bodies changes. To show him he loves his body he buys him new Lingerie, gives him a good fucking, makes his favorite cake, buys him flowers and cuddles him.

I’m finally back at it! For now, anyways. Have some soft heith :) I picked a bit of what I wanted to write from the prompt, I hope you don’t mind.

*

Keith stared into the mirror, his gaze dull as his hands run down his sides. There were new stretch marks around his belly. His shirts had to be continually tugged down to cover the slight pudge that had developed. His leggings rolled down underneath his belly and hardly stayed up due to the extra weight he was carrying in his waist and ass. But now, standing in front of the mirror in his and Hunk’s room, clad only in his boxers, he felt so much worse than he did when he was in his clothes.

He presses his waist in with his hands, stifling a sniff and blinking past the burning sting in his eyes. Wow. What a childish thing to cry over - gaining weight. Keith stares at himself, self hatred rearing its ugly head. Not only at the image in front of him, but the reaction he was giving.

This whole thing was partly his boyfriend’s fault. After coming back from space, they had all been a little malnourished and battle weary. So Hunk had taken it upon himself to feed Keith better than he had been since he was a kid and his dad was still around. This included a lot of baking, traditional American cuisine and also the typical Korean and Hawaiian dishes that the two were natively accustomed to.

It was only supposed to help him fill out a little, but Keith had gotten lazy with training and working out now that it wasn’t exclusively required on a daily basis; thus the weight gain. He’d been ignoring it valiantly. Today, though… He had wanted to put on the lingerie that Hunk had bought him a while ago, surprise his boyfriend when he came home from bringing food to the others.

It hadn’t fit. He’d hardly been able to squeeze into it when the delicate lace had ripped and he was stuck staring down at the ruined outfit. Now he was here.

Keith is crying when Hunk comes home, not at all noticed by the former red paladin. “Hey babe, I’m - Keith? Keith, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Keith shakes his head, scrubbing at his eyes and reaching for his clothes quickly, like a cat spooked back into hiding. “I’m fine. Nothing.”

Hunk’s eyes scan the room, taking in everything. The ripped lingerie, the discarded clothes, the ashamed flush on Keith’s chest and ears. He sighs softly, walking over and tugging Keith away from his clothes. “Hey,” he murmurs. “C’mere.”

Keith doesn’t have time to dispute his boyfriend as he’s pulled into a warm hug. Traitorous tears threaten to spill again, but this time he doesn’t even have energy to push them back down. He sniffs thickly, melting against Hunk when he passes a massive hand over his spine.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Hunk asks, the question rumbling deep in his chest.

“I’m disgusting.” Keith answers after a moment, his voice dull and weepy. “I ripped the lingerie you bought me because I wanted to surprise you but I’m - I’m too fat.” His voice cracks.

The Hawaiian pulls back, frowning and holding his boyfriend at arms length. “That’s okay. We can buy you new lingerie. That set is kind of old, anyways.”

“But that isn’t the point!” Keith cries. “I wanted to feel beautiful, to dress up for you and make you feel good. But now I’ve ruined it.”

“Keith,” Hunk sighs, slightly put out. “It isn’t ruined, baby.”

Keith rakes his hands down his face with a shaky breath. “Yeah, but it was supposed to be about you. Now it’s about me.”

“I think maybe you need it.” Hunk soothes, pulling him back and kissing his forehead. His hands wander down his sides, firm and careful. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Keith says grudgingly. “But I’m making it up to you.”

“Later.” Hunk agrees, reaching down and squeezing at Keith’s ass, earning a soft squeak. He walks them backwards until his boyfriend is sitting on the bed, looking up at him. His gaze softens at the remnants of tears on those pale cheeks, the self doubt and guilt and shame lingering in those amethyst eyes.

“Lay down, baby.” He requests. Keith obliges, settling down on the bed and avoiding his gaze.

Hunk kneels over him, pressing soft kisses over his cheekbones, raining them over his nose, placing them over his lips. The Korean lets out a soft sigh, his eyes flickering shut, a crease between his eyebrows the only indication of being stuck in his head. Hunk planned to change that.

He spends the next few minutes lavishing kisses over as much of Keith as he has the boy writhing underneath him, slowly worked up, before he moves on to making him feel good. Hunk seals his lip over a nipple, flicking his gaze up and sucking slowly. The Korean gasps, tossing his head back, clinging to the sheets.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hunk murmurs, kissing his way to the other one, teasing it to a flushed and tender point with his tongue. Keith mewls his pleasure, quiet and shaking.

The Hawaiian shifts down, pressing his face into his belly for a moment, his hands stroking the insides of Keith’s thighs before tugging his boxers off, leaving Keith bare and open.

“So eager for me.” He coos, pulling away to look down at him.

Keith is a sight to behold. His ebony hair spills over the pale yellow sheets, his amethyst eyes hooded and darkened with arousal. His pale skin is flushed with it, his cock already hard against his belly. Hunk takes a breath, wishing he could do nothing more than devote his life to worshiping the deity spread out underneath him, the best thing he had been blessed with. He sends a silent thank you to the holy Pele, as far from her as he was.

“Hunk,” Keith begs, reaching for him, needy and wanting.

“I’ve got you, koʻu lani.” He settles between his legs, taking Keith into his hand and stroking him. Keith’s mouth falls open in a breathless cry, his head tilting back and his eyes closing underneath the ministrations of his lover. Hunk drinks it all in, filing it away underneath the place he kept when he wanted to remember just how beautiful his boyfriend truly is.

It doesn’t take much to bring the Korean to the brink. Under Hunk’s gentle hands and loving gaze, he doesn’t stand a chance. With the gentle murmuring of come on, sweetheart, that’s it from his boyfriend, Keith comes undone at the seams with a breathless little gasp.

The afterglow is heaven, especially when he’s cleaned up and wrapped in a loving embrace.

“Do you feel better?” Hunk whispers into his hair, his body curled around Keith protectively.

“Yeah,” he answers, his throat thick with emotion. “Yeah. Thank you.”

He can feel the press of Hunk’s smile in his hair. “I love you, Keith Kogane.”

“I love you, too.”

*

Requests are CLOSED for now.

Alright y'all omegaverse won 😂 I see all of you. I'll work on that tonight and have a sneak peek, full will be posted this weekend! ❤️ thank you all for participating!

Ahh thank you!! I love you for reading it ❤️

Drinking Buddies

Hey all! I've re-joined a fandom that is near and dear to my heart and I wanted to write something for all of these lovely people. Welcome to Good Omens!!

I'll be taking a break from Voltron for the time being, I need a change in scenery. Sorry to all those who are here specifically for that!

Without further ado; please join me and some drunk demons.

*

It was the one time a year where Heaven grouped together as a congregation to have their annual Great Plan meeting, where everyone was briefed on the vague idea of what could be happening in the coming year. Nobody was quite sure what to do now that the Apocalypse…. Hadn’t happened. Thus the vague meetings.

It was also the one time a year that Gabriel and Aziraphale dropped their respective demon partners at a bar and left them to their own devices for a few hours.

Despite popular belief, Crowley and Beelzebub got along quite well when there was alcohol involved. On this one day, they were reluctant friends instead of boss and subordinate. It was nice to have a change. Besides, it was also one of the only days that the Prince herself actually banished her flies and ran a comb through her messy hair, all for the sake of a few hours.

“Your Angel left you, too?” Crowley asks after they’d both gotten their drinks and sat in respective awkward silence for a few minutes.

Beelzebub scowls at her drink, a little more intensely than usual. “Yezzz. He’zzz running the damn thing.”

“You should’ve convinced him to cancel.” The snake scoffs, sipping his wine and glancing at the door. Twenty minutes in. This was going to last an eternity.

“I tried! He told me to buzzz off. Bloody angels and their bloody meetings.”

“Amen to that,” Crowley mumbles into his drink, ignoring the dirty look that earned him. Maybe he was picking up a few too many of Aziraphale’s linguistic habits. “So how is Hell doing, after you-know-what?”

“It’s more Hellish than usual, no thanks to you.” She scoffs. “Incredibly hot. Chaotic.”

“You should come and visit Earth more often, you might like it.”

Beelzebub rolls her eyes, knocking back the last of her drink and flagging over the bartender. “You sound like Gabriel.”

He makes a face, shaking his head. “Eugh, I make it a habit not to sound anything like him. Please don’t insult me like that.”

The Prince gives him a smug smile. “You dezzerve to be knocked down a few pegzz.”

Crowley ignores that. “Seriously, Beelzebub, your terrible Highness — coming up here may do you some good. You can… air out, as it were.”

“I quite like my office.” She says dryly, glancing up as the bartender pours her another drink. “It’zz familiar.”

“You’re festering.” He grins.

“I will not hezzitate to throw my drink on you, Crawley.”

“My name is Crowley,” the demon hisses, his yellow eyes flashing.

Beelzebub grins, tilting her head. “That’zz what I said.”

He considers her a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he sighs heavily, shaking his head and turning back to his drink. “You’re still insufferable, I see.”

“The best of us never change.” She waves a hand. “How izz that Angel of yourzz?”

Crowley pauses, a dopey smile spreading over his lips at the thought of his Angel. Ah, Aziraphale… “He’s… He’s wonderful.”

“Dizzgusting.” She says flippantly.

The smile vanishes, replaced with an irritated scowl. That seemed to be a constant when he was in the Lord of the Flies’s presence. “And what about yours?”

“What, are you expecting me to get all mushy?”

“No, of course not.” He scoffs. “The Prince herself showing emotions? Preposterous. You don’t have a mushy bone in your body, Bee.”

“If I even have bones.” She says absently.

“If you even have bones,” he agrees. “But no, really, how is the Archangel Fucking Gabriel?”

The Prince cackles, throwing back her head. “He’s an azzhole! Juzzt like normal.”

“I never expected anything less.” Crowley rolls his eyes. How Aziraphale had put up with him for so long was a mystery to him — and it was an even bigger mystery how Beelzebub didn’t smite Gabriel where he stood every time he opened his mouth. Perhaps she was just attracted to rude dumbasses.

“He’s quite good in the bedroom, too.” She says, eyeing a couple in the corner who were making out like they would die if they didn’t spend their time swapping spit in a bar.

Crowley short circuits, the breath leaving his corporeal form. Then he smacks his hand on the counter with a triumphant, “I knew it!”

She gives him a flat look, but there was a hint of color creeping up on her sallow cheeks. “What? Did you place betzz?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I believe I won. My dear Angel owes me.”

“Azz if you two aren't fucking.” Beelzebub grumbles into her glass, glowering at him.

“In my defence,” Crowley holds up a finger. “It most definitely is not as frequent as you and Gabriel.”

“So that’zz your problem!” She grins, jabbing him with a bony finger. “You need to get laid.”

“He’s quite soft, he doesn’t do well with frequent, er… activity.” He quips, shaking his head.

“Your job is temptation, right?”

“Well, sure.”

“Then tempt him, you idiot!”

“But…” Crowley entertains this thought a moment, then makes a face. “But he’s so soft…”

“A little too zzoft, if you ask me.” Beelzebub rolls her eyes.

“He’s an Angel!” He scowls. “They’re soft by disposition!”

“No, I think yourzz is juzzt a zzpecial case.” She rolls her eyes, her finger tracing over the rim of her glass. “I must’ve mizzed that model.”

“Gabriel was just designed to be an ass.” Crowley huffs.

The Prince’s eyes go a bit hazy, and quite possibly… dreamy? “He does have a nice azz.”

“Oooh… was that an emotion?” The demon gasps in mock surprise. “Does the great Lord Beelzebub have feelings?”

She scowls into her drink. “Zzilence, imbecile.”

“I’m impressed,” he coos, leaning forward and looking over his glasses at her, eyes dancing with mischief. “Are you going soft, Bee?”

“I’ll zzmite you.” She says flatly, eyeing him.

“I’m already damned.” He snorts, leaning back and picking up his drink again.

“You’re a damned fool, that’zz what you are.”

“Perhaps,” he muses, looking up at the TV in the corner, following the sport with hazy eyes.

“I don’t see how Aziraphale puts up with you.”

He glares at her. “He — He loves me, thank you very much. He’s a very good individual.”

“How quaint.” Beelzebub drawls, rolling her eyes.

Crowley eyes her shrewdly, pursing his lips. Then he huffs. “Tell me about your Gabriel.”

The Prince, who had been taking a sip of her drink, chokes and splutters with a fantastic lack of grace. She wipes her mouth on her sleeve, giving him a deer-in-the-headlights look. “What aboutmy — my Gabriel.”

The demon grins lazily, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, anything.”

“Are you asking about my zz— my sex life?” She buzzes, concentrating on her words, metaphorical hackles raised.

“Heavens, no!” Crowley cackles. “I couldn’t care less what you get up to in the bedroom. What I mean is,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Does he make you feel warm and fuzzy, your highness?”

“What?!” She squawks, flushing darkly, her gaze darting around. “No! Of course not!”

“I’m only kidding, relax.” He laughs. There was no need to suffer the wrath of one of Hell’s finest. “But really, what’s it like? Do you get along?”

“We get along well enough.” The Prince offers reluctantly. “He’s quite affectionate.”

“Is he?” That was hard to believe.

“Oh, yezz.” She nods, chewing on her lower lip. “Alwayzz wanting to touch me. He likes teazzing, too. The brat.”

That was shocking. Beelzebub was a prickly little thing. Many a demon had lost fingers for even brushing against her accidentally. “Is that so?” He muses, then gives her a wicked grin. “I’ll bet you love it.”

“You can’t prove that.” She says hotly into her drink.

He snorts. “No, suppose I can’t. Does he come into Hell to see you or do you go Upstairs?”

“What, you think I’d go up to that blasted place?” She scowls. “He comes to me. As he should.”

“How odd,” Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Gabriel doesn’t seem to be the type to come to Hell willingly.”

“He’zz quite willing when I’m through with him.” Beelzebub chuckles. “Angels are rather good bottomzz, aren’t they? Or does your Aziraphale step up?”

“What?” The demon laughs. “No, he doesn’t have an ounce of dominance in him! Although he is quite loud.”

“Yours is loud? Unfair.” She whines.

“It took some coaxing,” Crowley says smugly, unable to help feeling a tad superior. “But it was worth the effort.”

“I’ll take that into conzzideration.” She muses. “Although Gabriel isn’t as zzoft as your Angel.”

“Yes, Aziraphale is quite a soft boy.” He says fondly.

“Gabriel is a little piece of shit boy.” Beelzebub groans. “Speaking of — they should’ve been done by now. What’zz taking zzo long?”

“I don’t know.” He wrinkles his nose. “Maybe they’ll be here soon.”

“They better be.” The Prince mutters, squinting at the clock.

*

Aziraphale and Gabriel walked into the bar they had left their Demons in to find them drunk and getting along… alarmingly well.

“An’ then I said… I said…” Crowley was slurring. He looks up just in time to lose his train of thought and brightens, looking more like an excited puppy than a fearsome demon. “Aziraphale!”

“Heeeeey — it’zz the piece of shit boy!” Beelzebub crows, in a loud and loose fashion that was definitely nothing like her usual disposition.

“Oh, dear,” says Aziraphale, “they’re quite drunk.”

“Wonderful,” Gabriel says, his expression pinched.

“What did you get into, love?” Aziraphale asks fondly, walking over and steadying Crowley when he reaches for his Angel.

“Nothin’.” He gives him a dopey grin, his eyes shining from behind his glasses, which were knocked askew.

“Gabriel!” The Prince snaps. “Get your bitch azz over here!”

“There’s no need to be rude, Beelzebub.” The Archangel sighs, walking over to his own mess of a demon.

Crowley was looking up at Aziraphale like he’d hung the bloody moon, a dopey, drunken smile on his lips. The Angel chuckles softly, cupping his face and brushing his thumbs over his cheeks lovingly. “I think you’re quite drunk, my love.”

“Psshhh,” Crowley wobbles in his seat, waving a hand and accidentally swatting Aziraphale. “Naw… Jus’ a lil — hic — a lil…” He trails off, getting distracted by the smattering of freckles across the Angel’s nose. “Hmm…”

Meanwhile, Gabriel was in a similar position, trying to persuade Beelzebub it was time to go home as well.

“You alwayzzzzz… alwayzzz ruin my fun,” she pouts up at her Angel, her dark eyes bleary and her cheeks flushed from drink.

“I believe you have plenty of fun on your own, Bee.” He sighs, prying her off the barstool and slinging her over his shoulder. “Come on. Bedtime.”

“See you next year, Gabriel,” Aziraphale calls after them. “And, er… Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He sighs over the Prince’s drunken giggling. “You as well.”

The Angel turns his attention back to Crowley, who’s eyelids were slipping shut as he sagged against the counter. Aziraphale pays the tab, adding a hefty tip for the troubles the demons likely caused.

“Come on, my love,” he says as he helps his demon off the barstool. “Until next year.”

“Next year…” Crowley agrees, stumbling along as his Angel takes him home to tuck him into bed and nurse his impending hangover away.

Let me know if my summaries don't catch you and give me tips on what you'd like to see! I'm kind of shit when it comes to introductions (I like the middle parts when stuff is happening) so any help would be appreciated!

@fanfic writers, I am literally begging you please put a summary on your work. It doesn’t even have to be good. It could be an excerpt from the writing itself. But you need that summary. It’s what gets people’s attention. Even if you’re writing a cliche, don’t just write “oh just your average so and so fic, you know the drill.”

And give yourself credit too! Don’t write “oh I suck at summaries,” or “oh, this sucks, it’s my first time writing.”

Readers don’t know that! Let them be the judge of that, because if you advertise your bad writing they’ll take your word for it and scroll past.

You deserve those views fam! Just put a summary, it makes your story look way more appealing.

And, as I mentioned above, if you don’t know how to write a summary, just take a bit of the writing that you already have a put it as the summary. That’s effective too. It can even be more effective, cause sometimes I see that and I go “oh my gosh! That’s funny! I want to see this in context.”

But y'all need summaries. And y'all need to stop selling yourselves short. You can do it! I believe in you.

Ohohoh!!! I love your writing so much I look up to you a lot 💜 can you write some klance?? I'm super into a god/goddess au right now and I'm not even sure if I can do it justice.

I’ve got inspiration but idk what to write aaaaaaaaa hELP

It's me!!

Golden Hour

That's the cutest thing ever??? Thank you???? Oh my God I love that so much-

The ship name for Lance/Romelle is ROMANCE

My day is made. That’s so freaking cute. I can’t. Thank you @cyancascabel

Pssst- I’m not a stalker (Okay I kind of am-) but you commented on my girlfriends post ( @renywrites ) and I just wanted to say thank you for making my day 😂

Guess who’s world-building! I need help from all my readers in regards to my new Refraction au, so ask away! Anything and everything is accepted, no matter how crazy it may be.

You can find the fanfic here.

I look forward to your asks!!

“You good?” Sevika asks, and Vi barks out a laugh.

“Oh yeah. Fucking peachy.” She says through grit teeth, then sucks in smoke harder than was necessary to avoid elaborating.

Sevika leans her shoulder against the wall beside Vi, looking down at her, expression unreadable. There was a bruise forming in the shape of Vi’s knuckles on her jaw. Lucky shot. The only real hit Vi had managed to get in.

“There’s some girls at Babette’s who can’t do penetration either,” Sevika offers, and Vi bristles.

***

Vi has some old wounds that never healed. Sevika likes to pick at them. They find a way to start healing them together.

***

I debated posting this here. Trigger warning for rape, panic attacks, ptsd, and violence.