I finally decided to get off my butt and put my writing in a list. I will do my best to keep it updated😛
I do want to say thank you so, so much to everyone who has been reading my stupid stuff! I am overwhelmed with the amount of support I’ve gotten, and will be forever thankful for it🫶 I hope you continue to enjoy my work!
Fic list below!
**Please note, this is not a masterlist! All my writing can be found through the appropriate tags!
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Cw: slight religious symbolism, men, smut, they want that cookie (you) so bad
Tagging @godserene for a little treat when you wake up 🫶
Corbeau sunk his teeth into your neck the same time Grisham pursed his lips and sucked on your clit. You moaned, any thrashing halted by Corbeau’s grip around your front, keeping you perfectly in place in his lap. Your legs were forced open by Grisham, his palms pushing and digging into your thighs.
“Mhm- you make such pretty noises.” Corbeau spoke against the tender bite mark, gentle pain ebbing down your shoulder
In agreement, Grisham hummed into your pussy. He looked up at you, red eyes trained on your own, as he pulled off you to smile. A sticky trail still connected his lips to your wet clit. “Like our own personal choir of angels, welcoming us to heaven.”
Corbeau snickered, “It’s always you and the Catholicism.” He moved slowly from one side of your neck to the other, tip of his nose trailing across the back of your neck. “But I can’t argue with that. Aren’t they heavenly?” Taking the soft flesh of your ear between his teeth, he pulled gently, working another small whimper out of you.
“Yes.” Grisham’s attention bounced between your face and pussy, drooling at the sight. “The sweetest fruit, worth savoring every bite.” He suddenly buried his face between your legs again with a loud, long hum. “Like salvation between their legs.”
“Hey,” Corbeau reached for Grisham, his pale hand tangling into his hair, but otherwise resting there. “Don’t be too greedy. I want a turn after you.”
“You’ll get your turn.” His words vibrated against your core. Grisham eyed you again, and you felt him smirk. “They can take us both. Can’t you, love? Don’t you want us both to touch you? To taste you?”
You nodded, your hips stammering as Grisham licked a slow, long stripe up your pussy. “Y-yes.”
Corbeau’s erection poked at your back as you writhed, a delicious groan coming from him. “That’s right.” He hissed through his teeth, pulling on Grisham’s hair, forcing him deeper against your pussy. “You’re ours. Made just for us.” His lips trailed down the side of your face and across your neck, warm breath making your hairs stand on end.
Grisham lapped at your clit hungrily, and you couldn’t stop from moaning. His fingers dug into your thighs, long nails definitely leaving marks.
“Say it.” Corbeau demanded, teeth grazing an already sensitive mark on your shoulder. “I want to hear you. Tell us who you belong to.”
Your head spun, you couldn’t focus on any one sensation. “Y-yours.” You moaned again as Corbeau’s free hand trailed up your chest. “Gris- Beau-“ Corbeau pinched your nipple between his fingertips, and you arched agasint his chest. You were unbearably close, pleasure pulsing up your spine. “I’m yours.”
Suddenly, Corbeau tore Grisham off you. Both you and him moaned, though for entirely different reasons.
You cried for Corbeau, writhing in his arms. “H-hey-!
“Don’t worry, Angel.” He hummed against your ear. You could feel the cruel smile on his lips. “Your ours, remeber? We have all night to take care of you.”
You looked down at Grisham. His mouth was left wide and he was panting. He tried to fight against Corbeau’s grip, but Corbeau simply pulled harder.
“Hey, Gris, Buddy. I told you; don’t be greedy.” In moments, Grisham was shoved to the side, and you were pushed onto your stomach, the mattress creaking under you. Corbeau guided your hips up as he kneeled behind you, hot breath practically burning against your pussy. “I want my salvation, too.”
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I worked on my pro folio today and sent some mails today and always have this small heart attack when my phone autocorrects « Thanks, Cordially » to « Thanks, Corbeau »
After the birth of your son, Corbeau faces some latent childhood trauma
Cw: children, abandonment, men, Corbeau starts off in a mood, arguments
You woke up alone.
Corbeau was gone from his side of the bed, as was your son from his bassinet. A very mild panic flooded your nerves, but you did your best to calm your hormonal mind.
(Nothing horrible had happened while you were asleep- your son probably began to cry, which woke Corbeau up, and he decided to handle it in another room. Everything was fine.)
Still, despite your best efforts, and overall exhaustion from having a newborn in the house, you couldn’t seem to fall back asleep. You tossed and turned as long as you could handle before conceding to your curiosity and climbing out of bed.
The house was eerily quiet, each of your footsteps creaking against the wooden floorboards. Luckily, you didn’t have to go far, warm light flooding into the hallway from the nursery.
You peeked through the cracked door, lingering around the threshold. Inside, Corbeau was on the rocking chair, your sleeping son cradled against his bare chest. His head hung down to face your son. Between the dark hair curtaining over his face, and the lamp behind Corbeau casting him in shadow, you couldn’t really make out his expression, but you could feel how tense he was. The air felt wrong, uptight and uninviting, his knee bouncing rapidly with energy,
The door creaked as you pushed it open. “Corbeau?”
His head shot up, eyes wide, grip tightening on the baby. He scanned you over, before letting out a low scoff. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You stepped into the nursery, but stopped just inside the room.
“It’s alright.” He hung his head again.
It was silent, save for the creaking of the floorboard as Corbeau bounced his knee. You were on edge, despite your best effort to relax, your stomach churning uncomfortably. When you spoke, your voice was quiet, and you convinced yourself it was because you didn’t want to wake your baby. “Is…is everything okay?”
The answer didn’t come immediately. What felt like minutes was only about 10 seconds.
“Yeah.” Corbeau murmured, lifting his head enough for his eyes to meet yours. “He was fussing, so I took care of it. Didn’t want to wake you.”
“I see.” You shifted on your feet, “thank you.”
“Mhm.” He nodded. “Go back to bed, Sunshine. I know how tired you’ve been. You need the rest.” Corbeau lowered his gaze again, like the conversation was over with that.
Sucking in your cheek, you took another step forward. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” While he kept his head down, you could still make out the tightening of his jaw. “Just…tired.”
“You really don’t seem fine.”
Corbeau scoffed under his breath, “Well, I am. You can go back to bed.”
You scoffed now, anger bubbling up despite your concern. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen Corbeau in a mood, but it didn’t sit well that he was dismissing you so easily. “You’re not acting okay.”
Corbeau suddenly hissed your name and snapped up at you, eyes large and wild. “It’s fine.” He scowled, voice raising through his throat. “Just go back to bed already.”
“Stop telling me to go back to bed!” Your anger surprised both of you, but not enough to stop you from blurting out some more. “Why are you suddenly shutting me out? I thought we were in this together- you’re holding our son! Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong!” Corbeau’s voice ripped through the nursery. “Why don’t you just leave me alone and stop bothering me?”
Silence followed, his words echoing across the walls and then in your head. Your heart twisted painfully, sudden tears pricking at your vision.
How could he just say that?
Soft whines broke through the silence, quickly crescendoing into wails. Your son was crying, clearly having beat you to it.
Corbeau looked down at the baby, back to you, and then back down again. His features shifted from anger, to anguish, and then into panic.
“Oh- oh my Arceus- I-i didn’t mean.” Corbeau stammered. “What the fuck is wrong with me-“ He looked down to his feet, his breathing rapidly becoming unsteady. “Shit. I-I’m a monster-“
A particularly loud wail made Corbeau flinch. He froze entirely, terrified in a way you’d never seen him before. Your heart broke.
Instinctively, you closed the distance, and wrapped him in your arms, despite your own woes. “You’re not a monster.”
“I made you both cry.” He whimpered. His body was tense as he refused to let himself relax into your arms. “I’m the worst fucking father in the world.”
“No.” You pulled away to look at him, but he kept his head hung low. Your son continued to cry, pudgy face contorted uncomfortably. The wails were borderline ear splitting, and you couldn’t think past the noise. “Hey, let’s just- let’s just calm him down, okay?”
Before he could answer, you took your son into your arms. Corbeau buried his face in his shaky hands.
Luckily, It didn’t take long to calm your son back down. Gentle coos as you rocked him did the trick, his sobs wavering as he fell back asleep in your arms, too tired to keep himself awake any longer. Once you were confident enough in your son’s sleepy state, you carefully laid him in his crib.
Then, you turned to Corbeau. He was exactly as you left him, hunched over and shaking. You came up to the chair, stopping in front of him. Corbeau gave you no reaction, so you put a hand on his shoulder. “Beau.”
He didn’t respond. Your patience was thin, but you held out until he finally answered, mumbling low into his palms. “I’m sorry.”
“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Leaning forward, you rested your forehead on his, hoping to ground him, at least slightly. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone in this. Please don’t shut me out.”
Corbeau whined. “I just…” He inhaled, shaky and nervous. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“It’s not stupid.” You mumbled. “It’s okay, just, please, Corbeau, talk to me.”
He swallowed. It took him another long moment for him to find his voice. “It’s just that, I don’t know. Whenever I look at our son, I see this sweet, innocent baby, and I can’t imagine ever leaving him on the streets to fucking starve.”
…oh.
Corbeau continued. “How could anyone, as a parent, leave an innocent life- your own child- on the street, I - I don’t understand. Why would my parents do that to me?”
You pulled away, kneeling down to his level. He wasn’t crying, but he looked as if he could. “Beau.”
“How could they be so heartless?”
You swallowed.
You didn’t know what to say.
There wasn’t much you could say. No one would ever know why his parents did what they did, that was part of the pain that, clearly, had been weighing heavy on Corbeau the past few days.
“I’m sorry, beau.” You pulled him into the crook of your neck. He went, wrapping his arms around you, shaking hands grasping onto the back of your sleep shirt.
“I just want to give him everything, but I’m already making him fucking cry. Maybe I did deserve to be left to die.”
“No, don’t say that. You didn’t mean to, and babies cry all the time, for everything.”
Corbeau shook his head, a tear falling down his cheek, and down your shoulder. “I just want to be a good parent.”
“You are a good parent.” You sighed, kissing his head. “You’re a great dad, you care so much about him.”
He sighed. It was obvious he didn’t believe you, and you weren’t sure you could say anything to convince him, not at this very moment, anyway. You were exhausted yourself, and had the same concerns about your own parenting skills.
You opted instead to pull him closer, to hold him tighter through his pain. “Listen, we’re both tired. We can talk about it more in the morning, okay?” You told him, combing a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t trust your thoughts after two in the morning, anyway.”
Corbeau chuckled weakly, but the lighthearted moment fell flat quickly. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I made you cry too.”
“It’s alright.” You pressed your head further into his. “You can make breakfast in the morning.”
“I’ll make you breakfast forever, whatever you want. Just please don’t give up on me.”
“I’m not going to leave you, Beau.” You sighed. “But you have to let me in, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
His grip tightened, almost painfully so. “I know, I just…I’m sorry. I want to take care of you, both of you, and be the man you need. I shouldn’t be getting upset over this shit.”
“You are enough, Corbeau.” You kissed the side of his face. “Please, believe me when I say that.”
He stammered, but a response never came. Instead, he just held you back, like you were a lifeline he needed to keep going. Maybe you were, at that moment.
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I have this silly headcanon that Corbeau, with his cat slit eyes… they dilate and get big like a cutie cat when he gets really interested! 🤭💕🌸💕🌸💕🌸 maybe that’s why he needs the glasses 👓
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I think if that mans AuDHD ass likes to eat anything, it’s candy. But it HAS to be sour. Sweet and sour is the ultimate flavour combo in his eyes.
———
He’s having the worst day imaginable: clients are annoying, a deal didn’t plan out the way he wanted it to, budget cuts, grunts making mistakes; you name it.
The player (who he not so subtly has a thing for) shows up to his office, listens to him rant, only to slowly place a bag of his favourite sour candy in front of him as he speaks.
He shuts up immediately, which takes a lot for him to do (we know he loves to talk).
This man goes from fucking PISSED to absolutely gagged and in awe. He doesn’t hesitate to rip the bag open, little crystals of sugar all over his desk.
“Oh, this is the good stuff. None of that “sour” shit that isn’t actually sour. This stuff’ll make you squirm.”
The player gets some, Philippe gets some, too.
Corbeau sighs and leans back on his chair, lifting his knees up and getting comfortable, looking up at the ceiling and zoning out.
Everyone quietly enjoys some candy for a few minutes before the player heads off.
Corbeau will play a game of tossing the candy into Philippes mouth between meetings. He’ll send the big guy all the way to the elevator and huck the candy to see how far he can throw it (you bet he’ll throw the candy like he does will his Pokéballs, too).