What's Your Current Draft List If You Don't Mind The Question?

With so many people suddenly turning on this guy I am giving an award to the real ones who had to fight in trenches back in 2021

would u ever write Reagan x reader??

YES I WOULD

some bill/billford sketches from when i was on the plane yesterday (including my human!bill design :)

tumblr butchered the quality :/

is it bad that i actually find bill attractive in his triangle form. like let me take loving geometry to the next level guys 🙏🙏🙏

NO YOUR REAL YOUR SO REALLL 😭😭 I’d ever do smut in his human form bc.. i don’t know how it would work while he’s a triangle.. but I do have a fluffy fic coming in his little triangle bod 😁 I’m actually really looking forward to writing it, it’s so cute.

HATE SEX RIVAL LUTE idc dom reader dom lute my switch ass would be happy either way i just need need need this 🙏

Lie still, close your eyes girl, so lovely it feels so right —

Lute x reader,, 2.5 words

a/n — I literally did not mean to make this so long, I literally blacked out or something. Anyways, more Rival!Lute shit here, here, here and here. You don’t actually need to read any of those to understand what’s happening, though.

warning — heavy smut, afab but gn reader, VERY SWITCHY ROLES, dom reader but also dom Lute, scissoring, fingering, weird angsty sex, also it takes like 800 words for the sex to actually happen, honestly probably kinda cheesy

summary — After years of fighting with a sinner who’s well gifted in combat, Lute finally looses control and… well… they fuck.

The fight was close, just like always. Every move Lute made to strike was blocked gracefully by you.  Her swift moves were countered by your calculated blocks, followed by your precise jabs in her direction.

Each extermination day, the dance was set in stone. You, a fowl sinner from the trenches of this mortal plane, would be in the very same place each year. Always to fight Lute, a skilled angel soldier with immense training and knowledge on the battlefield. 

The odds should have been in Lutes favor, but just like last year and the year before that, they never were. It wasn’t that she lost the fights, because she would never let that happen. But it was the fact you kept up with her so well that infuriated her. 

Her strikes became tougher, the growl in her voice unmatched. 

“Someone’s angry this time, huh, Lute? You afraid of a good time?” You drew back with a smile, playfulness in your voice contrasted the blow you just laid to her stomach, “Or are you just tired of losing to a sinner?” 

Lute hisses in response, falling behind you and grabbing the back of your shirt, spinning you around to get a better angle, “Don’t kid yourself, I don’t lose. You know that, demon.”

There was not only a venom in her voice, but an anger that could only be explained by the emotion of mild exasperation. She wasn’t tired of fighting or ‘losing’, she was sick of not winning. Her grasp on your shirt loosened when you took a millisecond to examine her position, which conveniently left her stomach exposed, before kicking her hard right where she was open. 

Falling back, she yelped, not expecting the sudden pain. That was another thing that filled her with a bitter rage each year, angels shouldn’t be able to get hurt. And yet, you always managed to make her feel the slightest bit, if not a decent amount, of pain after a fight. 

What she would give to make you feel the same thing, what she would give to make you feel that pain. She wasn’t obsessed, however, no matter the countless nights she’s spent thinking about it. And disregarding what she did to cope on those nights. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to kick you that hard,” You drew in closer with your weapon, bracing yourself to lay a blow in. This year, it wouldn’t be a draw. This year, in your eyes, would be the year you finally win.

Your hands rise above your head, ready to strike, when you falter. Lute was looking at you with her usual glare of hatred, clutching her stomach, and calculating her next move. But it was your weak moments that certain thoughts overtook you. How could it be helped? She looked so pretty. 

“Too slow, now you’re done for,” Lute sneered, smile growing as she lunged at you, spear clashing with yours as you barely block it. Your body’s were nearly pressed together, as she pushed the wood of her spear harder against yours, trying to break it.

Then her sneer flickers down, “What are you looking at?” She pants, catching her breath after the stimulating action. 

“Your have—“ you breath, “—very pretty eyes.” Your eyes don’t falter with contact, until she looks down. Your superficial attempt to distract her, unlike usual, failed to work.

As if snapping out of a trance, she finally analyses the situation. This is it. All it took was that one moment, and your fucking finished.

“Well i’m glad you think so,” she starts quietly, “Because they’re going to be the last thing you see before you fucking die.” 

She forcefully pushes back with the base of her spear, acting too quick for you to strike back, and swiping your feet. 

“Finally,” she almost laughs, “Finally, I win, you vile demon. I win—“

You slide your foot behind her calf and tug her forward, making her fall into the space next to you, leaving you time to roll on top of her. 

The wit in your voice was gone and replaced with bare survival instinct. Her hands go to grab her weapon but instinctively you pin them down. 

With nothing left to do, you simply stare at eachother, catching your breath and panting heavily.

Lute glared up at you with confusion, anger, and then something else. The light fell on the top of your head, illuminating a vague sketch of a halo around it. But you were no angel, Lute knew that. And yet something about the way you were looking her made Lute think, if you told her you were sent from heaven she would not only believe you, but curse god himself for not sending you sooner.

Angels don’t make mistakes, they’re perfectly sculpted to be flawless, and this is something Lute has always believed. Which is specifically why the following events confused her. Your grip on her wrists weakened, given her an opening to break free. And still, that’s not what she did with her new freedom. 

Strangely enough, when the constraints your hands acted as broke, she didn’t run away, or even fight back. Instead, she grabbed your collar, pulling you impossibly close, and doing something no one with the title ‘perfect’ would ever do.

You’ve always tested the limits of what she considered ‘possible’ as an angel. You condemned her with scars, when angels were incapable of getting hurt. You plagued her thoughts with lust, despite the ideas you filled her head with being overtly sinful for heavens standards. And now, you’ve provoked the, arguably, best exterminator soldier into making an irreversible mistake. 

But the extermination wasn’t on her mind as her lips slammed against yours, nor was heavens consequences. The only coherent thought in her head was a simple idea; despite your hatred for her, you kissed her back. Not just eagerly, but with twice as much force. 

And then, for whatever reason, reality came back to her. Brutal rage, no, violence filled her as she felt your lips on hers. To call it rage would be wrong. Yes, she did feel the necessity to cause harm to your well being, but something foreign dawned on Lute at that moment. An animalistic need for you, one that, despite being tainted by her hatred for you, was truly only fueled by it.

In one motion, she rolled you over, pining you to the ground by your shoulders and going back in for another kiss. Your lips were poison, that was undeniable, but the taste was sweet enough to distract from the deadly venom filling Lutes stomach. 

“Look what you’re doing, sinner,” She hissed into your mouth, “Your turning the blessed into the damned, you slut. Haven’t you been cruel enough?”

Her words were spoke with such a blaze of passionate disdain, you almost were at a loss for words. Almost. 

“Your seriously trying to blame this one me? I think it’s pretty obvious, Lute,” You speak inbetween mildly unpleasant, aggressive kisses, arms falling on either side of her hips as she pulls you into her by your shirt collar.

“You’re just dying to fuck me.” 

Your words made Lute temporarily stop, shoving you down and removing her hands from your shirt, and shifting away. 

You smirk at the annoyance on her face as she moves down your body, “Aw, sweetheart, don’t tell me I scared you away. I’d hate to loose the pleasure of your company—“

Her teeth launch into your neck as she struggles to pull your pants down, making you yelp in temporary pain. You feel her smile into the bite mark. 

Lute breathes in anticipation, savoring every moment of her fingers dancing down to your belt, and slipping into your bottoms. How many nights had she spent thinking of this moment in utter, crushing shame? And how many hours afterwards had she berated herself for thinking such vile things?

She didn’t have to think anymore, and soon, you wouldn’t be able to. She relishes in the gasp you let out when she teases her finger to the opening of your pussy.

“Fuck!” You hiss as she slips her finger into your already dripping cunt, “Eager there, are we, Lute?”

Your confidence had already begun to falter. In this fight, it was true, Lute was winning. God, did she devour every shaky breath you took as she began to move her finger inside of you.

“You know demon, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so wet so soon,” Her other finger teased your entrance, as her first one worked itself more aggressively as the seconds passed, “I just thought you’d have more self control. I guess there are just some fights you can’t keep up with.”

You let out a hiss of disapproval, “Fuck— uh, consider it a compliment Lute. That’s just how much I wanted your crazy ass.”

Lute snickered, your comment lacked your usual wit. You were responding for the sake of responding, not because you had anything clever to say. Pathetic, just as she suspected. Just as she always fucking knew you would be. 

“And I doubt you’re doing much better over there, asshole,” You sneer, drabbling on for more than necessary, “Fuck, ah—”

During your fights, one of the things that infuriated Lute the most was your seemingly perfect composure, never once breaking your playful facade no matter how many blows you took. Now, your fragile character was finally breaking.

All the more reason, the next finger she added, she practically shoved inside you. “Aw, look at that. Prideful sinner,” She tutted smugly, “Looks like someone’s a sore loser.” 

Her fingers worked themselves inside you relentlessly. Every single move implied pure, unrequited hatred. It was a sick kind of attention, but you’d kill to have it more. Despite the flirtatious demeanor of yours finally being compromised, you wouldn’t say it was in vain.

No, certainly not when she was finger fucking you so good. The anger was present and unbreaking with every thrust inside of you, only fueling what was the long burning fire of arousal within you. She would ruin you, just as you would do to her, and god, it was welcomed.

Every motion inside your right cunt led to an embarrassingly priceless moan from you, just as your witty comments turned into mumbles of hatred and fowl wishes upon Lute and her kind. 

But just as your climax drew close, Lute pulled her fingers out. She glanced at them proudly, as if standing over a field of conquered enemies. She basked the moment in, before licking her fingers boastfully. 

“You know, I really thought you’d last longer, demon,” She grinned, “But you really are pathetic, you know that?”

However, by then the neediness in your empty cunt had been replaced by a dull irritation at Lutes demeanor. You were enemies for a reason, and it seemed she forgot how equal the two of you were. 

Too cocky, you think, and far too slow. In one swift movement, you flip her over, pining her to ground just as she had you just moments ago. 

“Is that so, Lute? That’s big talk for someone who lost to a demon for years and years.” Your hands go to stop her wrists from shooting up, “I’m really not the pathetic one here.” 

“I didn’t lose!” Lute struggled against your grip, but strength aside, your position prohibited her from shooting up to regain her control. 

“And what to you call this, then?” Your grin had formed again, but it didn’t distract from the aching from your pussy, “Typical angel fashion. You never leave yourself open like that, Lute. You should know that.”

You scorn her as you free a hand to trail under her skirt and tug her panties down. You’re lucky you get them half way off before she jumps up again. Your hands are quick to catch hers, however. 

“Hm, who’s the sore loser now?” You taunt, shifting the position drastically so that you have both wrists pinned down with one hand above her head.

While Lute struggles against your grip, you use your other arm to host her leg over yours, drawing both of your open cunts daringly close to each other.

“Don’t be stupid, Lute. Do you want me to deal with that mess or not?” The mess in question being her, as suspected before, soaking pussy. 

She grimaced up at you. Before she had the chance to bite you back with a useless reply, you started sloppily grinding your pussies together, earning a moan of pleasure from Lute, and a groan of relief from you.

“Oh fuck—“ She curses breathily, leaning her head back and pushing her legs further into yours, chancing the friction between the two of your aching cunts, “This doesn’t— this doesn’t mean I like you, demon.”

“You know Lute, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the past session,” You speak through gritted teeth and furrowed brows as you start to move faster. 

The slick, filthy, slapping noises that filled the area with around you, filled Lute with an all too familiar feeling of anger at her losing battle. 

“Your fucking perverted sinner filth,” Lute spat out, cutting her sentence off with a terrible hoarse moan, “You were the dirt of the earth when you were alive and now your— ah— even worse in hell.”

“Uh-huh,” you remark, focused on the grinding of your parts against hers, having to take a moment to gather a reply. “I get that you hate me, dumbass. You don’t have to waste your breath—“ you groan with pleasure, “—I’d like to not hear your terrible voice right now, thanks.”

“Fuck you,” she growls, but the threat of her bite is nearly completely gone when her sentence is punctuated with the arch of her back. 

Your speed only increased as you felt the building of your climax, and from the way Lute looked right now, you guessed hers followed soon. In all truth, you didn’t really hate the sound of her voice. In fact, the desperation in it  made you swell with incredible pride. But then again, you guessed she felt the same way about you right now. 

“Fuck, Lute, ‘m close,” You moan, mostly to yourself. You thought about throwing in an insult at the end, after all, it seemed like the only way you were able to hear each other, but you decided against it.

She didn’t need to hear you, but you did bask, like her in your desperation, in her cries below you. Despite the immense, and probably foreign pleasure she felt, the jeers never stopped. 

Even in an intamiate moment like this, she was still the “mediocre angel” and you were the “vile demon.” And even closest to both of your climaxes, you were sure to remind each other. 

But it was then that both of you realized, between the switching of positions and roles, the year long build-up to the final ‘winner’ was worthless. 

The fight, just as usual, was a draw.

a/n — THE SONG TITLE WAS ‘Tear You Apart’ BY SHE WANTS REVENGE BY THE WAY. Boy, this one’s been in drafts for a long time.

I forgot how much fun it was to ruthlessly project onto characters! I have no one to thank but my life for being so terrible and confusing and awful and terrible and

We don't know a lot about how Bill's species reproduces so breeding kink could be really confusing for all parties involves. Exhibit A: Bill w/ partner that ids as female and has a uterus. He attempts dirty talk along the lines of "If we keep this up I'm gonna make you a daddy!" and they're like wait what

HAHAHAHA NO STOP, THATS SO FUNNY. Bill drops that line and the reader just stops what they’re doing for a second and is like, “..what?” In all seriousness though, you’re so right, it would be so confusing.

Honestly, I don’t imagine Bill’s geometrical species reproduce even CLOSE to how humans do. That’s one of the reasons I don’t think a breeding kink would be very probable, but I guess if we’re just having fun, maybe that’s what makes him interested in the whole process of like “human procreation.” Which might lead him to get a few facts wrong!

Fiddleford always being hard and having at times pre-cum dripping, almost always in public and trying to hide it so bad. He wants to make it stop, but it doesn't work and he didn't want you to notice and think he's a pervert.

He was thinking about what his ma would think if she saw his bodily reactions and didn't want to disappoint her.

-🌌

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Awwwwww the way this would humiliate him completely. This happening in his college days, he already feels ostracized for being some out of place little farm boy, and now he can’t control his body in public? All just because of you?

He should be ashamed of himself. First Mcgucket to go college and he’s making a fool of himself in public because of a stupid little crush. I’d imagine he’d be hesitant to even ‘take care’ of it in the bathroom because, let’s be honest, he probably doesn’t even have that much experience with jerking off. He’d physically recoil if his little problem starts leaving damp spots on the outside of his jeans.

Imagine finally confronting him about it, pulling off to the side, (a dorm room, bathroom, closet, etc), and teasing him for thinking you hadn’t notice. But don’t poke too much fun or he’ll think you want nothing to do with him. He’s not used to that kind of foreplay, and would be hurt. So simply ask if he wants any help. Of course, you could leave him with his pants on, a new pair, you think. Still, all up in his business as he can’t hold back and he cums, ruining his nice jeans. But he whines, and you’re nice.

Make sure to remark about how wet he is for you. God, this little cowboy would have such a good time.

My theory about you is that you prefer hot drinks over cold drinks

your correct!!!!! I don’t like a lot of cold drinks their kinda just ehh to me. Hot chocolate tho.. 🤤

rereading american pyscho, oh how i would love to dom patrick bateman.

@hazbinhotelmollykisser here!

YOUVE DONE IT AGAIN

Do i know who brett hand is? Absolutely not. Have i read all of your fics on him? Yes.

I honestly wanna read more but im a little scared about all the other ones being less good than yours 😭

This is the third time ive been reading fanfiction for characters idk, amd the second time it was your fault (mr. Puzzles, Brett Hand)

AWWW??? Oh my gosh literally getting people hooked on characters from media they haven’t even seen is my favorite thing to do, I love you pooks.

I also have recommendations !

[NONE OF THESE ARE MINE BTW]

dating brett headcanons

subby brett smut drabble

cuddling w/ brett

sick!brett x reader